I made sugar cookies tonight and I tried to use them in conjunction with my angel-shaped cookie cutter; and in fact did manage to do so; but the angels got really puffy in the oven and now look more like weird bears.

in other news, I realize that only a small handful, if that, of Persons With Fandom (pwf) ever see this journal--

although, quick tangent. alice at work referred to this journal as my website once, and I was confused because I really don't think of this as a part of the Internet. I think I make these entries and they are delivered to you by owl while you're having tea in front of the fire or else leaned against the brick wall outside your office or school building, smoking a cigarette. that's the only way I ever really picture anyone recieving anything.

tea. cigarette. tea. cigarette. journal.

what was I talking about? I've had about sixteen of those puffy angels.

ah, yes! a resurrection of the Holiday Fanfic Challenge, which I have endeavored like others to pimp out, as that is so often my only contribution to writing challenges.

1) but, you say, I don't write fanfic. posh! I say. no, wait, posh means fashionable, doesn't it. I say pish! or. I don't know what I say. but that's no reason for you not to write a little holiday story. Christmas cheer! Devon, your fancy writers circle should be about fucking done, it's time to have a little fun. and all the rest of you! if there are any.

2) or, maybe you say, I am Lise and I already knew about all this. well, I'm sorry. I'm not currently very interesting. did you see my jk picture? did you see my pimping? sugar-rush, fatique, love, and isolation?