you only think i'm posting. i'm really asleep in bed like a sane person.

"And then a whole lot of them got at me one day after one of the games was over, and told me I was *no good*. And the Games Mistress seemed quite worried and asked me if I really didn't *care* about lacrosse (that was the name of the game), and I said no, I was afraid I didn't, really; and she said it was a pity, because my father was so 'keen,' and what *did* I care about?

"So I said, well, I was not quite sure, but on the whole I thought I liked having everything very tidy and calm all round me, and not being bothered to do things, and laughing at the kind of joke other people didn't think at all funny, and going for country walks, and not being asked to express *opinions* about things (like love, and isn't so-and-so *peculiar?*). So then she said, oh, well, didn't I think I could try to be a little less slack, because of Father, and I said no, I was afraid I couldn't; and after that she left me alone."

*****

"Mary, you know I hate parties. My idea of hell is a very large party in a cold room, where everybody has to play hockey properly."

Man, I had forgotten how much I loved even just the first chapter of Cold Comfort Farm. HEART.

*wrinkles nose*

pearl_o: http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,1977,FOOD_9936_27413,00.html
pearl_o: this scares me a little.

fox1013: ...Huh.

pearl_o: And you know, okay, kind of gross but going with it, I guess
pearl_o: until you get to the sauce
pearl_o: which is a stick of butter and a pound of powdered sugar.

fox1013: heeeee

pearl_o: And booze.
pearl_o: That is not a sauce.
pearl_o: That is not food.

fox1013: *dies giggling*

...I'm still not sure exactly what that is. But when I say this entire thing scares me a little, well. By "a little" I mean "what the hell?" Just to be clear.