I have fallen madly in love with a human coffee maker.

And discovered my HALO panic mode -- turn rapidly in many circles and shoot whatever's in the way while desperately throwing grenades, without really looking to aim either.  This is typically only employed when a certain someone decides to stalk me.

"Sniping rifles are not good short-range weapons!"  "I don't know how to switch to a pistol!"  "Use the black button!"  "Which black button?!  There are four!!"

"Ooh, I found a toy!"  "That means she either has a sniping rifle or a rocket launcher...."

"I discovered that I'm better at HALO when I'm drunk."  "Dude, that's just sad."

So the perils of washing hot pink shorts with anything other than hot pink shorts have been duly revealed to me.  I used to have a blue-and-white gingham shirt.  Now I have a pink-and-lavendar shirt.  Undaunted, I am taking the opportunity to maim, maul, and completely reconstruct this vestment.  My weapon of choice?  Bleach.  I'm going for the artsy-deconstructed vibe.  Don't judge me.  And maybe writing various profanities in foreign languages with fabric paint.  "What does that mean?"  "Yield to pedestrians."  "Really?"  "No."  The possibilities are quite literally endless, because the poor shirt is already a shadow of its former self, and not so averse to ruin.  Mwahahahaaaaa!