...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

Happy birthday to me! I demand gifts of porn and chocolate, and possibly porn featuring chocolate.

Parentals once again indulged in vastly annoying display of buying me things they feel I ought to want, rather than things I actually want. Managed to avoid over-sized designer makeup kit of DOOM (and really, who needs seventeen shades of eyeshadow? Knock that shit off) and point-blank refused to buy anything in Harvey Nichols, home of the Obscene Markup on Tacky Crap. Unfortunatly, while I was pointing out to Dad that £200 fountain pens are a spectacularly bad idea for one's left-handed daughter (not to mention, paying £200 for a pen is a good sign that you shouldn't be allowed money in the first place), Mother escaped my watchful eye and returned with truly awful necklace thing with Index-esque star charm, which I had to wear for the rest of the day to avoid hurt feelings and showing disrespect to "classy" Hallmark thing.

Watch scenario went much, much better than I thought it would, despite extreme meenity of not buying me a cool Ye Olde Style pocket watch - Angsty goth poetry on that subject coming soon - I ended up with a cute silver Le Chat watch and discovery of ubercool jewellery shop that demands I part with precious monies in the near future. Watch is named Sasuke, since it's small and cute. Sasuke also has a new friend called Yukimura, my cute, gay CD player. I like to put them together and make technology porn.

Didn't get any new DVDs, anime or otherwise, since Maternal Unit thinks I should be thinking along more "womanly" lines. Grr. Fortunatly, Lush goodness is considered appropriatly womanish, so was consoled by delicious hobbit soap, and lovely Paul McGann audio CD courtesy, which Dad, owner of the Biggest Crush on Sharpe That Ever Existed, Ever, could not in deceny deny me. Amused myself by thinking about putting Sean Bean inside Yukimura while Maternal Unit experimented with overpriced perfume that smelled like catpiss.

Came home, and parentals spent three hours in the bathroom. Three. Goddamn. Hours. Since they took so insanely long over preparations, did not get to see Exorcist 4 or have a bath before going out. Dinner at Ma Potters was lovely, as it always is, although the conversation sometimes made me want to bang my head against the table: apparently, it isn't becoming to order steak in front of yore MAYUN ("I'm just telling you this so you'll be happy, Catherine"); one should stick to more ladylike salads instead. Of course, this just annoyed me into ordering a chocolate milkshake. Conversation then moved on to Creepy Rich Boy (Aka Mr I Have A Coots Bank Account and the fact that I'm telling you this probably means I have a small penis and certainly means I have no charm, wit or good looks to recommend me) and his general annoyingness, as Mother extolled the virtues of having a Rich Mayun and on putting aside feelings of, say, reluctance, irritation and outright revulsion in order to obtain said Rich Mayun. I got annoyed and said it was more important for me to look at my reflection and not feel disgusted with myself than it was to be seen on the arm of Creepy Rich Boy. Obviously I shouldn't have mentioned mirrors since that sparked another soliloquy on makeup, diets, the "right" clothes, etc, etc, until I stabbed myself in the eye with a fork to escape her. Well, that last bit didn't happen, but eventually the bill came and we left.

I think I'll go take a bath with my hobbit soap now.