Wednesday, June 1, 2011

and that burnt-orange sky

     Dear Harriet Walter,

    Hrrrrrrg. Have you ever been in a situation where you're suffocating and you desperately need to breathe but you're being held back by your sister who is like "no, I don't want to breathe, I'm bored of breathing, I want to go off and do this other thing instead" and you're like "WOMAN I MUST BREEEEEATHE OR ELSE I MUST DIIIIIIIIIIIEE"?

    And then she's like "pff whatevs" and then you only get to breathe for, like, 40 or (if you're lucky) 80 minutes every day.

    Of course, in this case I could go off and breathe on my own but it would be so much lonelier and less fun.

    (I'm metaphoring about watching Doctor Who. Can you guest-star on it? Please? In fact, you should just be the next companion. For a few seasons. That would be paradise to a brain-'sploding degree.)

This would be my face when I woke up every morning.

No comments:

Post a Comment