Last night I was surfing through various PoT links and I run into this:
Now... after I had my healthy laugh at Tezuka' expenses, coupled with a healthy dose of <i>very</i> naughty thoughts and scenarios, I thought that was the end of it.
And yet today, while looking for a book to bring to my cousin in the hospital, what do I find in my parent's bookcase?
"The Big Bad City" by Ed McBain. O_O
Actually, I found a whole bunch of books by him....
Fate? Cruel, twisted destiny? The spirits od Tenipuri haunting me down and trying to corrupt me?
Firmly pushing the image of my mother reading that book far away from my mind, I'm fighting ... My fingers are hitching toward that book.
Can't read it.
WON'T read it!
I'm a good girl! I am no perv! My mind never EVER stray in the gutter!
Oh hell, who am I kidding?
If you don't see me on much in the next few days, fear not! I'm just busy perving away, corrupting my own mind with images of underage boys , pornish books, stern faces and bedroom role-games.