Okay, who do I go to to complain about it being cold (COLD, not cool) in Florida in October. That's supposed to wait until November, so I can clutch my Carmel Apple Cider (oh please, let someone make them!) to warm up my chilly fingers as I type my NaNo. I shouldn't even see the pink jacket until after near Thanksgiving. *crosses arms* This shit ain't kosher.
...I apologise for that last sentence. I'm not sure where it come from, but I blame certain parts in Dean Winchester, Mark Cohen, and Mal Reynolds. Yeah.
But only happy things, right, lieblings? Things are good here. I've got the read-through of Best Little Whorehouse in Texas tonight at 6 p.m. (which means I'll miss part of Gilmore Girls, but since I don't have class til 12:30 p.m. tomorrow, I'll be able to catch the repeat), so that'll be tons o' fun, I hope. Everyone seemed really nice and hey, last time I did a community theatre show, I met Kris and Jamie and Jorge and Justin. So batting a hundred as of right now. Maybe I'll even make a friend who can drive me home (as it will be dark...and probably still cold).