Colour me red, colour me gold

I don't know why you lot are so terrified of the bloody bees. I'd think you'd never been outside in your lives, the way you're carrying on. I got stung four times this morning, and I'm just fine. Besides, it's like they say. They're more afeard of you than you are of them. Whoever heard of anyone dying from bees?

Whoever got me for secret santa, I don't care what you get me. If I had my way, you wouldn't have to get me anything. But whatever it is, make sure it's not a pain in the arse to store it. No live animals - no dead animals either, for that matter, unless they're fit for consumption. Just a good rule of thumb, really.

Food is good. Could use some canvas, maybe linseed oil for waterproofing. And you can never have enough twine.

Suck it up and quit whining. If you were on the quidditch team, you'd get hit in the face with a bludger at least once a week.

Colour me red, colour me gold. Blood is my wine, and fear is my friend. But please do not say that I am not hard. Don't say I can yield. Don't say I can bend. Bind me with love, tie me with wire. Gag me with lead, and tear out all my nails. Razor my tongue, sew up my mouth, and feed me disease so my functioning fails. I will not change. I will not alter, for I am a man, and I am strong. I cannot sway, I cannot falter. I must be a man. I cannot be wrong. ( Read more... )