Does This Make Me Wicked?

Aaaaaand, back to no sleep and way behind.

I'm happy, though; just bleary-eyed and susceptible. I've had time to read very little, I'm too sleepy to write anything but crack which will never get posted, but my house is no longer so scary and the workload is blessedly up to date. I think the cat has remembered that I am sometimes ambulatory when at home, too.

I did get to watch The Devil Wears Prada, which, wow. I love Meryl Streep, but I am so not a fashion person. It all seemed so funny to me, even the parts where I was supposed to cringe. Like, poor fat A. Hathaway! In her uber-frumpy... prep outfit! If those people came to California, they would all spontaneously combust (and not even make much ash) when they saw the glorified pajamas some of us Leftians wear as business attire. I mean, Andy had on lipstick! And clothes over every part of her body! Clearly haute couture.

I'm also suddenly femmeslash-obsessed. The golden glorious realization struck me suddenly last night at 3AM; nobody writes my pairings AND my favorite tropes. At least THAT I KNOW OF. So since I couldn't sleep anyway I googled, and lo! 

Now I have Andy/Miranda and Faith/Kate and Kaylee/River to read, and am clammishly happy. But, yeah, also a zombie.

Braaaaaains.