In which I talk about Top Gear. TGSers, your thoughts, please.
I just discovered a pack of stamps in my wallet that I have no recollection buying. And they must be fairly old because they are 50c ones, and standard mail within Australia is 55c now. So I thought I'd move them to my little address book thingie (because I never think to look for stamps in my wallet) and what should I find in my address book thingie? A little sachet of wasabi! LOL.
We had an ancient episode of Top Gear on the tellybox last night. It was from 2003. All the clothes were extra dorky, James' hair was strange and kinda short, and Black Stig was still there. A caravan was destroyed - some things never change.
The Stig's choice of music for a lap was "Dusty Stigfield" (as Clarkson put it). So today at work (which was boring boring boring, though we did have a rather tall - and cute - woman do a trial!), I was thinking about a fic idea which has not progressed very far from the vague stage. But whoa! A TG fic idea - haven't had one of them in ages! Bet you thought I no longer cared. Lies, I say, lies. TG fandom, I do still love you and in a dirty way too. Please never doubt that.
So the vague fic idea is that Dusty Springfield is The Stig. Or was. Or there was some alien pod landing on earth and various Stigs unfolded from their eggs(/crash helmets): Dusty being one, Black Stig another, White Stig (a late but brilliant developer) yet another, (Purple Stig, who lives in my basement, was never seen or heard of again), etc. Perhaps there is something about singing in there - that's how they communicate? IDK. Basically I want to write Dusty as having not died. Also, bisexuality! Stig-sexors?! Brain!sexing Dusty?! Stig!Dusty/James sexing?! Y/N. Plot, anyone? Did I say it was vague?
I'm sure I was going to tell you about something else. But then I was distracted by this truly amazing sexy sexy SEXY sex scene. "don't give me a Unicorn yet, babe". I may yet turn my back on all other fandoms and be converted to TWILOL. My body feels as if consumed by desire and arousal and want and need and butterflies and lolcats.
We had an ancient episode of Top Gear on the tellybox last night. It was from 2003. All the clothes were extra dorky, James' hair was strange and kinda short, and Black Stig was still there. A caravan was destroyed - some things never change.
The Stig's choice of music for a lap was "Dusty Stigfield" (as Clarkson put it). So today at work (which was boring boring boring, though we did have a rather tall - and cute - woman do a trial!), I was thinking about a fic idea which has not progressed very far from the vague stage. But whoa! A TG fic idea - haven't had one of them in ages! Bet you thought I no longer cared. Lies, I say, lies. TG fandom, I do still love you and in a dirty way too. Please never doubt that.
So the vague fic idea is that Dusty Springfield is The Stig. Or was. Or there was some alien pod landing on earth and various Stigs unfolded from their eggs(/crash helmets): Dusty being one, Black Stig another, White Stig (a late but brilliant developer) yet another, (Purple Stig, who lives in my basement, was never seen or heard of again), etc. Perhaps there is something about singing in there - that's how they communicate? IDK. Basically I want to write Dusty as having not died. Also, bisexuality! Stig-sexors?! Brain!sexing Dusty?! Stig!Dusty/James sexing?! Y/N. Plot, anyone? Did I say it was vague?
I'm sure I was going to tell you about something else. But then I was distracted by this truly amazing sexy sexy SEXY sex scene. "don't give me a Unicorn yet, babe". I may yet turn my back on all other fandoms and be converted to TWILOL. My body feels as if consumed by desire and arousal and want and need and butterflies and lolcats.