I had a look at my blog and realised that in order to find shallower posts, you'd have to bang up Paris Hilton's webpage, but in all honesty, sometimes that sort of nonsense is required for me to make it through very cold days.
Maybe long, warm boots and Hugh Jackman's chest are the only things that evoke that sort of very deep, emotional response in me.
Well, not really. I like puppies, whole bunches. And new pictures of Drake make me go to complete mush. I'm surprised every time I realise he has Betsy's doofy grin, or that their eyes are the same shape, and he has Julia's ears, or that the kid is two fucking years old, and I'm missing him being a toddler.
It's cool...I'll just have to make it up to him when he's old enough to remember, and I'm not skint as a Weasley.
Guh.
I am knackered, and properly, too.
Oh. Wayne Barlowe really, honest-to-god scares me.
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