Knocked watching Gremlins off the ol' bucket list.

I get up in the evening…
     and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
     I go to bed…feeling…the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
    yeah, I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby…
    I could use just a little help
 
You can't start a fire
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire…
     even if we're just dancing in the dark

Messages keeps getting clearer
     radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place
I check myself out in the mirror;
     wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!
Man, I ain't getting nowhere
     I'm just sitting in a dump like this
There's something happening somewhere…
     baby, I just know that there is

You can't start a fire
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire…
     even if we're just dancing in the dark

You sit around getting older!
     (there's a joke here, somewhere, and it's on me)
I'll take this world off my shoulders
     (come, baby, the laugh's on me)

Stay on the streets of this town –
     and they'll be carving you up alright
They say you got to stay hungry
     hey, baby, I'm just about starving tonight!
I'm dying for some action…
     I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book
I need a love reaction
     …baby, give me just one look

You can't start a fire
Sitting 'round, crying over a broken heart
This gun's for hire…
     even if we're just dancing in the dark

You can't start a fire
Worrying about your little world falling apart
This gun's for hire…
     even if we're just dancing in the dark…

dancing in the dark…

even if we're just dancing in the dark…

Why is this night different than all other nights?

Why is it that, on all other nights during the year, we eat either bread or matzoh but, on this night, we eat only matzoh?

Why is it that, on all other nights, we eat all kinds of herbs but, on this night, we eat only bitter herbs?

Why is it that, on all other nights, we do not dip our herbs even once but, on this night, we dip them twice?

Why is it that, on all other nights, we eat either sitting or reclining but, on this night, we eat in a reclining position?

I and the sibling made hard-boiled scrambled eggs today.

In light of my last post being Harry Potter related…

A repost. I feel like it's not strong enough to stand on its own, still, but Kaz gave me his seal of approval on it so that has to count for something, right?

Below that is my favorite piece of fanfiction (though that may just be because I don't read fanfiction all that often). Maybe it's also because I just didn't expect it to surprise me. Oh well, I think it's good writing. As noted last time, that piece contains mild, graphic sexual content. My piece of writing does not, just the usual profanity (it's actually rather light on that, for one of my writings). Original source for the fanfiction: http://port70.net/?htext/fanfiction/hp_girlslash/174600.html

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    She cried, when Dumbledore died.
     The entire damn theatre was empty, too; the movie had been playing for weeks now, and she was the only one who kept showing up, the sound of her sobbing filling the room.
     If I could go back a year and attend high school again, I might've tried to actually talk to her. Not to say I didn't know her; well, as much as everyone knew her. She was always the one to pull out notebooks that had pages falling out by the end of the first week of school. She didn't seem to use them for school, anyway. God only knows what she wrote, but there was plenty scribbled all over the front of each one. From what papers fell out, we could see doodles and other trailing paragraphs of what we figured probably weren't notes from class; we hadn't been taught the amount of writing that was on all those pages by the end of the first week.
     Some of the lifeguards said they'd seen her on the weekends driving her siblings for swimming lessons in the family van. She always wore the same getup: hair back in a ponytail with some My Chemical Romance or other band t-shirt and the usual jeans. She didn't take lessons, herself. She just watched them from the side until it was time to take them home again.
     Another friend of mine had said he spotted her at Jewel one time. She had been alone, pushing a cart filled with groceries.
     Her dad didn't live with them anymore. Leastwise, not for the past 10 years, as the rumor flies. He just got tired of the extra weight and skipped town when he got the chance. Perhaps she missed him. A question I might've asked had I talked to her.
     But she had the dishes to do when she got home, as well as the yardwork, and usually the youngest had to have her diaper changed if her mom didn't get home quick enough, and then there was always the homework so that she could get to sleep, as well as the clubs she was involved with after school, since her mom said they'd help with colleges eventually
     And that damn Harry Potter movie, before they decided to take it out of theatres; two times a week, or so she hoped usually. Like a fucking duty, she took the time out to cry for Dumbledore.

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     Moaning Myrtle can be very quiet for a good enough reason.
     Having Pansy fuck herself, skirt up, panties hanging from one foot, shirt unbuttoned and a nipple peeking through the lacy bra is definitely one among them. Fuck, yes.
     Pansy’s eyes are hidden behind her school tie, the green and silver going beautifully with her pale face.
     ”Blind yourself with the tie.”
     “Didn’t know you were so perverted, Myrt.”
     “I’m not the one enjoying masturbating in front of a ghost.”
     It’s an agreement that leaves both satisfied. Well, as satisfied as a ghost can get.
     Myrtle still remembers certain tastes and smells. Ironically enough she can remember exactly how Olive smelled; lavender and slightly dusty, like an old house.
     And she can remember the taste of cunt. All the butter beer, the food, the hideous amount of chocolate gobbled throughout years and still -- the thing she can hint on the tip of her tongue is the slightly salty - almost how you’d imagine an ocean tasting - flavour of cunt.
     Pansy buries her fingers inside after she has come, a usual procedure. They’re glistening from her juices when she pulls them out. She uses her middle finger to teasingly trace Myrtle’s transparent mouth. Sometimes she sticks them inside Myrtle’s, down her throat and with a grin asks Myrtle to ‘choke on them’.
     But not tonight. Pansy starts to lick them clean, lapping slowly like a kitty; looking more graceful than her usual self.
     “Like an ocean right?”
     “Yes Myrt, like an ocean.”

Anyone else being told they must enable footprints yet their privacy page says that footprints are enabled?

I'm just gonna leave all this here. Not saying anything, just leaving this here.

Seamus and Dean’s biggest fight was when Dean started dating Ginny.

“Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him.”
—Order of the Phoenix, pg. 195

“It was Dean. Seamus gave a great roar of delight and ran to hug his best friend”
—Deathly Hallows, pg. 258

“Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.”
—Order of the Phoenix, pg. 195

“Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed”
—Goblet of Fire, pg. 191