Come along, Ponds

Oh, the postman brought me a computer game and instead of uni and work I played played and played and played for about six hours. Hating self just a teeny wee bit for that. But have made it to the library and at least I had the intention of working - up until I realised how bloody cold it is in here and I'd be much better off at home. Ahem.

I still haven't managed to watch a single episode of the ice skating programme, since I never get home till its over and am not that fussed apparently. But Mr Barrowman was on This Morning, er, this morning and I was greatly amused at him switching between his Scottish accent when speaking to Lorraine and his American one otherwise, heh. Also Bonnie Langford there. Is it wrong to want to write fic about ice-skating just cause it's rather pretty? And on the telly? And have Jack/Mel in it?

Also he seemed slightly, um, ungood about the whole Being Voted Out thing. Possibly taking the competition a wee bit too seriously? It is just telly, even if everyone's wearing lethal weapons on their feet, yes.

So it was fanfic during January, a fanvid over the weekend, and now Photoshop is supplying me with procrastination-y activities. Clearly I want myself to panic and fail, yes. Just...if I put half the effort into actually doing this bloody dissertation as I did finding ways to avoid it, it might actually get done. And I know that perfectly well. Yet still can't stop the Not Working-ness. Yarg.

...

Okay, now I'm going to scream. Word doesn't recognise .wps files. I bloody hate Works, I do.