South Park Self

and the skull of Cecil John Rhodes

I am still astonishingly tired, but thank heavens, that should be the worst of the year officially over. Student body count high, but not quite as high as it could have been. I'd like to thank Red Bull and Smallville for their contributions to my sanity over the last month. All I have to get through now is the inevitable sinus/glandular fever two-punch which follows these little challenges, and which I can feel building up in my skull and under my chin even as I type.

The start of term being what it is, it's only appropriate that we playtested jo&stv's zombie apocalypse Fiasco! playset yesterday. I felt very much equipped to embody both the hysterical over-reaction portion of the scenario and the shambling undead "braiiiiiins" aspect, and I'm right at home with the chaotic breakdown of social systems. In addition, the setting was contemporary Bloemfontein. On an ostrich farm. You haven't lived - or, in fact, inevitably died - until you've watched the Afrikaaner vet run his Isuzu four wheel drive over the zombie ostrich to rescue the screaming girls from the infected Labrador. I'm just sorry he never used the chainsaw. The whole subplot with the Boer sacrificial cult, the sinister doctor with the ostrich serum, and the elderly zombie mother kept locked in the attic, was also colourful. Also, jo made zombie cake. Everybody died. It was great.

My fiendish plan to spend most of Sunday horizontal on the sofa has so far been foiled by the dastardly Hobbit, who has just killed a large pigeon messily all over the living room floor, but once I've vaccummed up both the feathers and the Hobbit, who has it coming, I propose to gently flatline again in the interests of recuperation. Have a nice Sunday.
  • Current Mood: exhausted still ded, but dreaming
Re: Seee?
Good grief, you simply don't give up, do you? You are incorrect in your assumption. I could still spend all day on the couch if I kept Hobbit, he has taken to reclining gently on my stomach while I'm watching TV, purring like a diesel engine and occasionally nibbling random portions of my anatomy in a loving and only slightly homicidal fashion. He gets a bit narked when I have to shout at the screen during particularly egregious Smallville imbecilities, but we seem to have reached an accommodation - he doesn't bite me too hard as long as I shout but don't wriggle.