Hi, I'm back. The village idiot (aka my typist) decided that harp playing and spending time with her aunt was more important than me. Me! I am Curufin, fifth son of Feanor, a bloody prince of the Noldor! *growls* I feel so unappreciated. Current Mood: angry
Note to Typist Girl: I need new icons. I'm about to take over your computer and go icon hunting on the internet.
Luthien's here. Hehee.Edit:
Why are there no pictures of me?! WHY? *sulk* Current Mood: happy
She's listening to that
song again. Now it's stuck in my head. *pounds head on desk*
To make matters worse, she poked and prodded until I would "dress up."
apparently she thinks I look cute with a stupid grin on my face. Grr.
In other news: I've taken up baking. Current Mood: bitchy
I've been looking for a replacement for Angrist (*sniffle*). I've been to every cutlery shop in the world it seems and my typist is getting annoyed. She says that Angrist was just
a knife. Just a knife?! That's like saying a Silmaril is just another jewel. Poor poor Angrist. We had such good times together.
Ode to Angrist
Your edge so keen,
Your hilt so perfect,
Your ability to cut through iron,
Like a ship through the waves,
Make my heart sing.
But you're gone now,
and I am bereft.
All because of Beren,
So I'm not as good as Macalaurë. So what. Current Mood: depressed