(no subject)

SPAM ME.

i am going to work, and it is half seven on a saturday morning, people. SPAM FOR YOUR LIVES.

in other news, i just iced some delicious cupcakes. how do i know they are delicious? well. i may have tasted them. chef's perogative.

okay STOP OMG

The current entries at Go Fug Yourself are PRICELESS, as always, but I
NEED to bring your attention right now to these two:

I'm
developing a new theory: that Dolly Parton is an enterprise run almost
identically to that of the Dread Pirate Roberts. So when the Dolly
Parton we know grows weary and decides to retire, she identifies a
replacement who will seamlessly merge into the life of Dolly Parton
and carry on the Dolly Parton name and brand, as if nothing had ever
happened.

and Oh,
or how about LASSOS? Should we all start carrying LASSOS? I'd like to
state right now, and for the record, that LASSOS ARE ONLY OKAY IF YOUR
NAME IS DIANA PRINCE AND YOU'RE SECRETLY WONDER WOMAN.

I apologise in advance if I've messed up any of the coding on these
posts, but I am at WORK at STUPID O'CLOCK on a SATURDAY MORNING, and
therefore cannot edit them until I get home. Hokay? Hokay.

Dear koalathebear: I work in a gym. This is a job I sort
of accidentally stumbled upon in my need to exercise lots and not work
a nine to five office job. And it's cool, except for the REALLY EARLY
STARTS and WEEKENDS OMG. I'm fit, hokay? I'm young and healthy and fit
and I'm totally ready for a nine to five.

[ficlet] untitled chloe

i wrote this on the spot when sloane said she was sad and needed proning stat:

Chloe blows air across the surface of her latte. The steam rises and she glares: wishes it weren't so cold out; wishes her stupid drink wasn't so hot.

She blows again, and takes the final steps to her apartment building.

"Miz Sullivan," greets Max, the doorman. "Lovely evening out."

"Bit chilly," she agrees with a smile, and he closes the door behind her. The foyer is blessedly warm: this middle-upper class lifestyle agrees with her, occasionally.

The ride up in the elevator is brief. It stops on the third floor, and Lex steps in. "Lex," she says. "This is unlike you." She puts her coffee down on the floor.

"Well," he says. "Today I'm visiting old friends."

He reaches out a hand and presses the emergency stop button.

By the time she gets back to her coffee, it's cold.

That's not a surprise.