beckycochrane [userpic]


December 19th, 2008 (11:36 pm)

current mood: spacey

How are we supposed to know it's Christmas? One week it snows, the next week it's warm, then it gets really cold, and now it's sweltering. Nobody wants to see Santa in biker shorts and a tank top, unless Santa used Prancer's gift of a gym membership this past year.

However, there's ONE sure way to know it's Christmas. Even though after the time he's had with them, I'm surprised Tom didn't just hurl this entire set-up out the door, his holiday garland is up. The ornaments can't be plugged into the current string of lights because they don't fit. So there are no flashing lights, no noises, no voices telling us....

We are the Borg. Lower your shields.

Bad news, gentlemen. Shore leave's been canceled.

Resistance is futile.

When I was seventeen
Lock phasers on target.

He's dead, Jim.

Fate protects fools, little children, and ships named Enterprise.

Make it so.

I kid, I kid. Actually, I very much like this Deep Space Nine space station that miniatures of the ships can hang from.

Have a merry Christmas and don't forget to:

Live long and prosper.

Rest in peace, Majel B. Roddenberry.


If you own any of the books in the opposite side bar and would like them signed, mail them to:
P.O. Box 924104
Houston, TX 77292
Please include three dollars for return postage. Thank you.

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