| Day Three Million Twenty-Four: No word back from Bob. Suspect he is moping. Never could sort out his love life. Always whining and writing in his journal. Bloody sensitive demon types, no use at all. Day Three Million Twenty-Five: Pointy hatted ex fell into shadow. Down with the competition! Ringbearer moping. Suspect Aragorn son of Arathorn might like to have a go at cheering him up. Apparently something of a pervy hobbit-fancier. So that�s why the blood of Numenor died out. Day Three Million Twenty-Six: Fellowship in Lothlorien. Oh god, Galadriel Galadriel Galadriel. It's always about HER. Paint my toenails, Sauron. Don't touch my hair, Sauron. I want a pretty ring, Sauron. Then she goes off with slabbish oaf Celeborn. Bet HE cannot forge twenty rings of Power. Suspect bitch-slap fight brewing between Galadriel and Legolas as to which of them can nance around better while holding water pitcher. Cannot help but roll my eye over this. Time to toss some Jiffy Pop into Mount Doom and watch the fireworks. later Well, would you look at that dwarf getting it on with Celeborn. I tell you, three Million years on Middle-Earth and some things still surprise me. Day Three Million Twenty-Nine: Finally some decent fighting. Orcs killed : four hundred, v. bad. Humans killed : one. Go Uruk-Hai! Is it just me, or is Aragorn son of Arathorn kinda gay? Maybe is just me |
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