It's almost 11pm and my mood has plummeted

[threadwalker]

cuz I still at work. (my marginal spelling skills have also tanked)

Scowling wilfully towards Autobot City, you're Megatron!

Look in a mirror and feel the evil. Then eat the mirror. You eat mirrors for breakfast. You are a badass death robot. You busted on Optimus Prime. You. Are. Megatron. Go outside and burn some animals, because you're worth it.

Declare your pre-Galvatron-ness with the following non-heat-sensitive emblem:


Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

Comments

[hrj.livejournal.com]

Still at work? At work work? Ack. Poor baby!

[thread-walker.livejournal.com]

It occurs to me (belatedly) as I sit here at 1:45 am, that I'm developing a first name relationship with the janitors and the security folks. And that I need a crash pad nearby on nights like this. Or a magic carpet.

1:45 am and ticking...

Re: crash pad

[hrj.livejournal.com]

OMG absolutely! We must talk about arrangements for this. (Although if it involves 1:45 am those arrangements will include you having your own key to my place.)