Oh god. Don’t mind me, just sitting here dying at all the pancake quotes on twitter.
I had to put in one of my own:
“Mrs. Hudson took my pancake.”
“So I’m basically filling in for the pancake?”
“Relax, you’re doing fine.”
#ReplaceSherlockQuotesWithPancake
5/16: McArthur High School HazMat Situation
Students, Teachers Decontaminated After Breaking Out In Rash
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/16/mcarthur-high-school-contamination_n_1521764.html
5/19: No confirmation on chemical at Fort Lauderdale International…
There we go then. The world is ending. Not with a bang, but with a bitten-off whimper.
I’m stuck at Heathrow, George Clooney is nowhere in sight. I’m watching Mommies with babies trying to quiet them and find a fifth hour of amusement on the linoleum floor. I’m watching sweet little old ladies snarkily say, “Oh hush it!” to people they don’t know. I’m watching…
*sobbing*
In which C stands for Cockblocker.
“Tell Barton the next time he decides to sleep off-base, he needs to call in.”
“Um…what?”
“We know he’s with you, and no one cares, but he needs to remember protocol.”
Bruce waves a hand to get Clint’s attention. Clint’s nearly dressed, jeans hanging low on his hips as he tries to find his shoes. “I’ll tell him,” Bruce says and hangs up the phone.
Clint pauses, both shoes in his hand, jeans an inch lower than they were. “I should—”
“He says next time, you have to remember to call in. Protocols or something.”
Clint freezes. “What?”
Bruce raises his eyebrows. “Is there something…should we not have done this?”
“No, no.” Clint drops his shoes and knee-walks on the bed until he’s curled up against Bruce. “No, it’s fine. There’s nothing against it. I just thought…”
“I was going to make you breakfast,” Bruce says. “I wasn’t intending this to be a one night stand.” Clint’s silence tells Bruce that Clint thought it was going to be one. Bruce shifts where he’s sitting. “Did you—”
“No! Breakfast!” Clint says a little too loudly. He gives Bruce an embarrassed smile, and then ducks his head against Bruce’s shoulder. “Breakfast is good,” he murmurs.
Bruce smiles and loops an arm around Clint’s back, pulling him even closer. “Good,” he says. “Good.”
So, in the wake of reading this terrifying shit, Postcard and I started chatting, as you do, about the zombie apocalypse. Here are some things Postcard and I enjoy: zombie media, common sense, and YELLING ABOUT STUFF. Thus, for your reading pleasure, please enjoy our simple…
I am ALWAYS buying clothes from the men’s section, because I think girl clothes are stupid. I wish they would make a NEUTRAL section that isn’t implicitly men or woman’s that way we don’t feel so judged. Obviously, your situation is different than mine, but I can certainly empathize.
(Source: genderqueerconfessions)
It was absolutely necessary for me to post these.
The Angel has the phone box
