like a bowl of jelly!
The weekend! Among other things, I saw New Moon. Kisses to Taylor Lautner's veneers! Or, um, I guess Taylor Swift would cut me. Kisses to Taylor Lautner's delts then, oh sweet heaven let's have more contrived shirtlessness please please please.
Additionally, lollerskates at the beach walk of hilarity: werewolves are born this way and so on. If there is not werewolf group sex fic, RIGHT NOW, I will be so disappointed in the Internet! I already had to cry a single tear because oh temperate rainforest. (My girlfriend Liz is from Oregon, and on the walk home from the movie, we both got really homesick on realizing that the other one missed the Northwest too.)
Finally, who wants to make a whole Livejournal theme, or vid, or something to immortalize the most wonderful moment of emopants ever, Edward and Jacob's phone conversation. Or well, Jacob's phone statement "He's arranging a funeral!" Crowing Moment of Douche? I THINK SO! My girlfriend Michelle and I talked about how epic that was, all through lunch today, about twelve hours after seeing it. Team Jacob (is an awesome douche) t-shirts will surely be upcoming. Right along with my other obsessive Livejournal theme-idea, and the associated t-shirt: Mrs Lindros.
In other news, we finally beat someone! SUCK IT MIKE SMITH. Or, I mean. That was a lame thing to say. I just. AT LEAST MIKE SMITH IS PLAYING! Hooray for the end of his post-concussion syndrome? HOORAY. Also Pits was back and recorded six (hundred) shots on goal, so that was pretty cool.
I have been working on my somewhat-epic Canadiens story again, and you know, because I do not so much like one of the books I have to read, was watching clips, and. OH HO HO HO NO.
HO HO HO NO. AHHAHAH "Get to know your Canadiens!!!" indeed. Or, if you prefer, "Faites connnaissance avec vos Canadiens!!!" BRB CRYING TEARS OF JOY. Okay, I am for sure ready to know them in bed. What kind of broke-ass joke organization asks its employees, "who's the most submissive?" Les Habitants, apps!
VERY BEST MOMENTS:
-The title! Let's talk about sex, baby, let's talk about you and your teammates and me. (sadly, when you save it, the actual file title is "wipped" not like "pornwemadethatonetime."
-The near-universal conviction that Latendresse is totally hopeless. Starting with Brisebois's fabulous hair that calls everyone out, and then whoever speaks second and then third, not knowing anything never stands in *my* way when making judgments, then Bouillon comes out with, like, actual evidence which tragically, has nothing to do with anything, but it's sweet that he's working in a scientific paradigm, and better than Lapierre's rapetastic douchetastic headnod. So much so that Latendresse's actual appearance is a total let-down, both for us and for him.
-Bullet points! Kostopoulos somehow sounding like he's gonna go out and hotbox someone's Corolla!
-Carey Price's totally horrified expression of horror/nausea/confusion. Caaaarey Priceeee your faaaaceeeee.
-Komisarek, oh man. Way to get to the heart of the exercise, yet sound like such a jerk.
-How about the whole concept? WHY WHY WHY. It's Valentine's Day (I think?) there must be literally hundreds of other questions, some of which are even appropriate for a family place such as an arena.
-Some of those alternatives probably didn't feature everyone's strange domination fantasies about Latendresse. And, hey, speaking of, wasn't there a whole flap about how he posed in some magazine without his shirt? Boy doesn't need any more problems.
(Although later I found a clip of Higginsface, tragically sans Higginshair, talking about how Komisarek wishes he were smoother. So, like, there's that.)
ps my story has no more new words. Mostly because I just spent half an hour identifying who was in that video. Not that it needs them; eight-thousand in and they *still* won't fuck. I should just write about Lapierre, right, homeboy could probably get to the ~good parts~ in under fifty. In under a Tweet, I bet. "Max liked fucking bitches. Bitches liked fucking Max." Or, in the spirt of cleaner things, "Lapierre said yes, and so they did it, and it was really good." See, that wasn't hard! Well, no duh, my problem is that no one else is, either, zing.
Uh. Okay, time for an important question! I have 10035 bookmarks on delicious. Only 7807 of them are public though, and I am wondering if it would be enormously stupid to unlock stuff? Yes I mostly wanted to brag about that number. (no, faded-lilac I will probably not retag all of the sports rpf and send it to you. probably not.)
In conclusion: seventh week!11!!11!!
Additionally, lollerskates at the beach walk of hilarity: werewolves are born this way and so on. If there is not werewolf group sex fic, RIGHT NOW, I will be so disappointed in the Internet! I already had to cry a single tear because oh temperate rainforest. (My girlfriend Liz is from Oregon, and on the walk home from the movie, we both got really homesick on realizing that the other one missed the Northwest too.)
Finally, who wants to make a whole Livejournal theme, or vid, or something to immortalize the most wonderful moment of emopants ever, Edward and Jacob's phone conversation. Or well, Jacob's phone statement "He's arranging a funeral!" Crowing Moment of Douche? I THINK SO! My girlfriend Michelle and I talked about how epic that was, all through lunch today, about twelve hours after seeing it. Team Jacob (is an awesome douche) t-shirts will surely be upcoming. Right along with my other obsessive Livejournal theme-idea, and the associated t-shirt: Mrs Lindros.
In other news, we finally beat someone! SUCK IT MIKE SMITH. Or, I mean. That was a lame thing to say. I just. AT LEAST MIKE SMITH IS PLAYING! Hooray for the end of his post-concussion syndrome? HOORAY. Also Pits was back and recorded six (hundred) shots on goal, so that was pretty cool.
I have been working on my somewhat-epic Canadiens story again, and you know, because I do not so much like one of the books I have to read, was watching clips, and. OH HO HO HO NO.
HO HO HO NO. AHHAHAH "Get to know your Canadiens!!!" indeed. Or, if you prefer, "Faites connnaissance avec vos Canadiens!!!" BRB CRYING TEARS OF JOY. Okay, I am for sure ready to know them in bed. What kind of broke-ass joke organization asks its employees, "who's the most submissive?" Les Habitants, apps!
VERY BEST MOMENTS:
-The title! Let's talk about sex, baby, let's talk about you and your teammates and me. (sadly, when you save it, the actual file title is "wipped" not like "pornwemadethatonetime."
-The near-universal conviction that Latendresse is totally hopeless. Starting with Brisebois's fabulous hair that calls everyone out, and then whoever speaks second and then third, not knowing anything never stands in *my* way when making judgments, then Bouillon comes out with, like, actual evidence which tragically, has nothing to do with anything, but it's sweet that he's working in a scientific paradigm, and better than Lapierre's rapetastic douchetastic headnod. So much so that Latendresse's actual appearance is a total let-down, both for us and for him.
-Bullet points! Kostopoulos somehow sounding like he's gonna go out and hotbox someone's Corolla!
-Carey Price's totally horrified expression of horror/nausea/confusion. Caaaarey Priceeee your faaaaceeeee.
-Komisarek, oh man. Way to get to the heart of the exercise, yet sound like such a jerk.
-How about the whole concept? WHY WHY WHY. It's Valentine's Day (I think?) there must be literally hundreds of other questions, some of which are even appropriate for a family place such as an arena.
-Some of those alternatives probably didn't feature everyone's strange domination fantasies about Latendresse. And, hey, speaking of, wasn't there a whole flap about how he posed in some magazine without his shirt? Boy doesn't need any more problems.
(Although later I found a clip of Higginsface, tragically sans Higginshair, talking about how Komisarek wishes he were smoother. So, like, there's that.)
ps my story has no more new words. Mostly because I just spent half an hour identifying who was in that video. Not that it needs them; eight-thousand in and they *still* won't fuck. I should just write about Lapierre, right, homeboy could probably get to the ~good parts~ in under fifty. In under a Tweet, I bet. "Max liked fucking bitches. Bitches liked fucking Max." Or, in the spirt of cleaner things, "Lapierre said yes, and so they did it, and it was really good." See, that wasn't hard! Well, no duh, my problem is that no one else is, either, zing.
Uh. Okay, time for an important question! I have 10035 bookmarks on delicious. Only 7807 of them are public though, and I am wondering if it would be enormously stupid to unlock stuff? Yes I mostly wanted to brag about that number. (no, faded-lilac I will probably not retag all of the sports rpf and send it to you. probably not.)
In conclusion: seventh week!11!!11!!