Catsbycat Is An Oldy McOldPants.
Oh man, I hope it's still the 26th of May in Johannesburg...because I am crawling out from under my picspam shame rock in honor of the very lovely catsbycat .
I missed a bunch of fangirl birthdays while I was galavanting around North America. If it makes you guys feel any better, I also forgot my nephew J's birthday yesterday, which means my descent into Hell has officially reached terminal velocity. I'd rent the clothes from my body and tear out my hair if I wasn't so busy flogging myself with this cat o' nine tails.
Through the constant turdfest wonder that is Recovery, I have learned that dwelling on my mistakes leads to alcoholism and a lot of other fab stuff I'm not supposed to mainline/smoke/lick/swallow/snort anymore. Curses and bullfuckery. *shakes fist at sky* So, rather than continue down this road of flagellation and self-abuse, without further ado...
For catsbycat , who is always handy with a hug, just when you need one. But fangirl, you deserve to go down for this sort of relentless asshattery. Seriously. That shit is Unhelpful for Deadlines.
In Which the Dragons Is Not Bearing Frankincense, Myrrh, or Sniper!Hockey!Fic. More The Shame.
Dean: Ooooookay. Cosy hideout commandeered…
Dean: …target acquired…
Dean: …scope adjusted…trajectory calculated, factoring for wind-shift and mark travel…
Dean: …aaaaaaaaand now Sam is blocking my shot with his ridiculous mop-top. *whistles through teeth* Hey! Bigfoot! Take the Norville Rogers act two feet to the left.
Sam: What the...? Dean? What are you doing out here? We’re supposed to be having dinner with catsbycat for her birthday.
Dean: *rustles leaves* Yeah, I know, I’m just killin’ time till Dragons gets here.
Sam: Killing time doing what exactly?
Dean: Dude. I got a perfect line into catsbycat ’s living room. She just went to the bathroom, but when she gets back? I’m gonna cap her in the ass.
Sam: *blinkity* Okay, please tell me you're not hiding in a fangirl's bushes with your high-powered, long-range rifle.
Dean: *supplementary rustling* I'm not hiding. I'm just...conveniently obscured by foliage. Besides, they’re potato pellets, Captain Killjoy. And catsbycat loves this sniper shit. Manipped the crap outta those pics for Dragons when she was stayin’ in Indy, remember?
Sam: Yeah, I remember. Will you come out from behind that tree, please? I'm not conversing with a wildeperske. And don't they attract lightning?
Dean: Pussy. There's not even any thunder.
Sam: Dragons catches you waving that gun around she’s liable to-
Dean: - redefine foreplay in ways that make me forget my own name. Yeah, I know.
Sam: Ew. I meant if you shoot catsbycat in the butt, she'll be mad.
Dean: Fine, fine. I'm puttin' it in the trunk.
Andy: *breathless* Guys! Thank God I caught you. I have a message from Dragons.
Dean & Sam: Andy!
Sam: Good to see you, man. What’s up?
Andy: She doesn’t have any sniper!hockey!fic. She’s been caught up with this multichap, and the tornado thing and she just… she doesn’t have it. You’re gonna have to stall.
Sam: Stall? For how long?
Andy: A couple of months, maybe?
Dean: See? I totally had time to shoot her in the ass with a potato pellet.
Andy: Dragons did say she might have found a way to have the sniper!fic and the tornado!fic bookend each other. Although now I’m repeating it out loud, I can’t really remember if she said “bookend” or “rear-end”. I was kinda stoned.
Dean: “Bookend” definitely sounds like there’s skill involved. My guess would be “rear-end”.
Sam: Well, what are we gonna give catsbycat then? *thinks* She likes hockey, right?
Dean: You wanna suit up and smack a puck around? Like, for real? Because I will bleed you and leave you facedown on the ice. They’ll be pickin' your teeth out of the Perspex barriers into 2010. But I mean, sure, we can do that. If you're tired of your teeth.
Sam: *rolls eyes* Get in the car. We better go pick something up.
Andy: Calvin and Hobbes comic book?
Sam: Christ, that idea's almost as painful as Dean's empty threats.
Dean: But not nearly as bad as your hockey game.
Dean: Speaking of clumsy, uncoordinated ball-busting bitches... where is Dragons, anyway?
Andy: Reading about tornadoes.
Dean: *chk-chk* Regular thrill-a-minute, my girl.
Happy Birthday, catsbycat . Thank you for being your wonderful, hilarious, creative, generous self. Sorry I has no hockey!fic for you. It's in the stable, I swear! But I hope you have an awesome day anyway.
I missed a bunch of fangirl birthdays while I was galavanting around North America. If it makes you guys feel any better, I also forgot my nephew J's birthday yesterday, which means my descent into Hell has officially reached terminal velocity. I'd rent the clothes from my body and tear out my hair if I wasn't so busy flogging myself with this cat o' nine tails.
Through the constant turdfest wonder that is Recovery, I have learned that dwelling on my mistakes leads to alcoholism and a lot of other fab stuff I'm not supposed to mainline/smoke/lick/swallow/snort anymore. Curses and bullfuckery. *shakes fist at sky* So, rather than continue down this road of flagellation and self-abuse, without further ado...
For catsbycat , who is always handy with a hug, just when you need one. But fangirl, you deserve to go down for this sort of relentless asshattery. Seriously. That shit is Unhelpful for Deadlines.
In Which the Dragons Is Not Bearing Frankincense, Myrrh, or Sniper!Hockey!Fic. More The Shame.
Dean: Ooooookay. Cosy hideout commandeered…
Dean: …target acquired…
Dean: …scope adjusted…trajectory calculated, factoring for wind-shift and mark travel…
Dean: …aaaaaaaaand now Sam is blocking my shot with his ridiculous mop-top. *whistles through teeth* Hey! Bigfoot! Take the Norville Rogers act two feet to the left.
Sam: What the...? Dean? What are you doing out here? We’re supposed to be having dinner with catsbycat for her birthday.
Dean: *rustles leaves* Yeah, I know, I’m just killin’ time till Dragons gets here.
Sam: Killing time doing what exactly?
Dean: Dude. I got a perfect line into catsbycat ’s living room. She just went to the bathroom, but when she gets back? I’m gonna cap her in the ass.
Sam: *blinkity* Okay, please tell me you're not hiding in a fangirl's bushes with your high-powered, long-range rifle.
Dean: *supplementary rustling* I'm not hiding. I'm just...conveniently obscured by foliage. Besides, they’re potato pellets, Captain Killjoy. And catsbycat loves this sniper shit. Manipped the crap outta those pics for Dragons when she was stayin’ in Indy, remember?
Sam: Yeah, I remember. Will you come out from behind that tree, please? I'm not conversing with a wildeperske. And don't they attract lightning?
Dean: Pussy. There's not even any thunder.
Sam: Dragons catches you waving that gun around she’s liable to-
Dean: - redefine foreplay in ways that make me forget my own name. Yeah, I know.
Sam: Ew. I meant if you shoot catsbycat in the butt, she'll be mad.
Dean: Fine, fine. I'm puttin' it in the trunk.
Andy: *breathless* Guys! Thank God I caught you. I have a message from Dragons.
Dean & Sam: Andy!
Sam: Good to see you, man. What’s up?
Andy: She doesn’t have any sniper!hockey!fic. She’s been caught up with this multichap, and the tornado thing and she just… she doesn’t have it. You’re gonna have to stall.
Sam: Stall? For how long?
Andy: A couple of months, maybe?
Dean: See? I totally had time to shoot her in the ass with a potato pellet.
Andy: Dragons did say she might have found a way to have the sniper!fic and the tornado!fic bookend each other. Although now I’m repeating it out loud, I can’t really remember if she said “bookend” or “rear-end”. I was kinda stoned.
Dean: “Bookend” definitely sounds like there’s skill involved. My guess would be “rear-end”.
Sam: Well, what are we gonna give catsbycat then? *thinks* She likes hockey, right?
Dean: You wanna suit up and smack a puck around? Like, for real? Because I will bleed you and leave you facedown on the ice. They’ll be pickin' your teeth out of the Perspex barriers into 2010. But I mean, sure, we can do that. If you're tired of your teeth.
Sam: *rolls eyes* Get in the car. We better go pick something up.
Andy: Calvin and Hobbes comic book?
Sam: Christ, that idea's almost as painful as Dean's empty threats.
Dean: But not nearly as bad as your hockey game.
Dean: Speaking of clumsy, uncoordinated ball-busting bitches... where is Dragons, anyway?
Andy: Reading about tornadoes.
Dean: *chk-chk* Regular thrill-a-minute, my girl.
Happy Birthday, catsbycat . Thank you for being your wonderful, hilarious, creative, generous self. Sorry I has no hockey!fic for you. It's in the stable, I swear! But I hope you have an awesome day anyway.