Pic!Spam, captions and pleas for forgiveness, yes?
Do you have any idea how much I HEART you all? I couldn't even believe it (actually, I could) when I saw how long it's been since I posted--deplorable. I went to go check my flist and stuff and expected to see half of you defriending me. NO! None of you did. *hugs you all* Bless your hearts and you should all go shower in chocolate. I don't know how you put up with me, but I can't thank you enough for doing it, 'cause I SUCK.
So I've been telling tales of the next installment of Cool Money, MY way, and I think I'm satisfied with Part Eight. God. Why have I let this madness continue? Anyway, I thought I'd offer it up to you as penance for being gone so long and you can tell me if it's insufficient and you'll be requiring my firstborn instead. It's your call :) I even made a slight adjustment on the last one, because I didn't think it was as entertaining as it could have been, so check out the OnStar bit again--I think it's more appropriate. You'll see what I mean.
A'ight. Let's rock this... website.
Cool Money, MY way: It Starts!
Cool Money, MY way: Part Deux
Cool Money, MY way: Enter Fangirl!Wifebot OMG
Cool Money, MY way: K-Fed Wannabe Wigga!James Wears HAZMAT PJs
Cool Money, MY way: True confessions of Prison Bitch!James
Cool Money, MY way: Let the Spames Begin
Cool Money, MY way: Boob Cramps and the Seduction of OnStar
Consider yourselves duly warned. Massive retardism to follow. No, seriously.
JAMES: Peek-a-boo-you’ll never guess whooooooooo!!!
WIFEBOT: EEEEEEEE!!!!! JAMES MARSTERS!!! JAMES MARSTERS!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ZOMG!!! ZOMG!!!
JAMES: Okaaaaaay, maybe you're not QUITE as dumb as I thought you were.
WIFEBOT: *fangirlz* Hee! I'm not dumb!
JAMES: *sing-song* I didn't say THAT, punkin!
WIFEBOT: Deeheeheehee!!!! Wow, I totally can't see anything!!
JAMES: There’s my good girl! And why can’t you see anything?
WIFEBOT: Because it’s all dark in here!
JAMES: You like it all dark in there, don’t ya?
WIFEBOT: *gigglesqueakspazz* Yay!
JAMES: You like it when I cover your eyes and make you wonder where I am, don’t ya?
WIFEBOT: *bounces* Where are you, where are you?? Eeee!!!
JAMES: *having insanely dirty thoughts but we forgive him because damn those hands are so beautiful despite what a naughty boy he is*
WIFEBOT: OMG!!! MWHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! OMGOMGOMG!!!! JAMES MARSTERS is, liek, covering my eyes, AAAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
JAMES: *knows we’ll continue to forgive him because GAWD isn’t he just the cutest thing on the face of this planet*
WIFEBOT: *would stand there all night if James would let her*
JAMES: *was ready to have at it, like, five hours ago, already* Now, what did I do with that master bedroom...??
WIFEBOT: *luckiest damn bitch in the whole fucking universe* Honey? Are you still there?
JAMES: Bwuuuhhh....!!
WIFEBOT: Sweetie love? What was that?
JAMES: Gnnynnyehhhuahh.... you squeezed my penis finger, you stupid twit.
WIFEBOT: Oooh, stairs, wheee!!
JAMES: I didn’t say you had to STOP squeezing it.
WIFEBOT: I can SEE again!!! And it’s better than I remember! Everything’s so bright and shiny!
JAMES: So... you’re through with my hands, then? ‘Cause it sounded like you were having fun with that.
WIFEBOT: *still on her acid trip from going down those stairs*
JAMES: Sweetie-*sigh* No... squeeze the special finger, not the sweater.
WIFEBOT: Look, there are the stairs again, yay!!
JAMES: Yay! Why don’t we have sex on them?
WIFEBOT: *fangirly tackle-glomp of James-induced frisky*
JAMES: *is clearly very used to this*
Again, Nibblet wants to mock the pic, but finds herself doing the “awww...” thing and admiring it just a bit too much to adequately make with the funny. Isn’t he sweet? *ruffles his buzzcut*
WIFEBOT: Hee! We’re gonna have sex!
JAMES: *seductive mouth-thing* Baby, you have NO idea just how sexed up you’re gonna be.
NIBBLET: Of course she doesn’t. I mean, look at what she’s WEARING, for God’s sake. I bet the Bubble Yum people are lamenting their missing spokesperson.
WIFEBOT: I’m gonna getcha! ‘Cause I’m a vampire! RRRRAAAWWR….
JAMES: You’re lucky you’re hot ‘cause I would so be outta here otherwise.
WIFEBOT: Are you gonna tongue kiss me, or what?
JAMES: Well, you could go back to groping my finger again. That was pretty decent.
WIFEBOT: *smoooooooochies*
JAMES: *thinks about his previous encounter with Spike*
WIFEBOT: *drowning, melting, succumbing to the deliciousness that is James Marsters’ kissing*
JAMES: *really intently thinking about his previous encounter with Spike*
NIBBLET: Don’t mind me, but are you guys cool with your kid watching you make out?
JAMES: Awww, shit.
WIFEBOT: We have a kid?
NIBBLET: Right there, diptard. Off to the left. Way to go with the traumatizing, there, Dr. Phil.
WIFEBOT: Who?
JAMES: Down, Nibblet. She’s not our real kid, so don’t be so-you don’t know who DR. PHIL is?!
JAMES: Look, it’s just something that happens sometimes. I can’t help it.
WIFEBOT: It’s wrong. It’s weird and it’s wrong.
JAMES: Yeah, well, some people find it extremely arousing.
WIFEBOT: Your FANS don’t count. You could freaknasty a La-Z-Boy and they’d cheer you on.
JAMES: Hey--what’s going on here? You’re supposed to be dumb, not philosophical and morally pretentious.
WIFEBOT: Don’t make this about me-you’re the one who fantasizes about himself while he’s canoodling his wife.
JAMES: Not ME. Spike.
WIFEBOT: Sure. The other you. Only I bet he doesn’t fantasize about YOU when he’s floompfing Buffy.
JAMES: *wibble* You-you take that back.
WIFEBOT: Just making an educated guess.
JAMES: You don’t know him. You don’t know anything ABOUT HIM!!!
NIBBLET: And since when did you start making educated anythings, princess?
JAMES: She’s wrong. She’s way wrong. Totally wrong, dude. She’s hot, but she’s dumb, stupid and SO wrong. Yes, wrong.
NIBBLET: She IS hot, though.
JAMES: She’s nothing compared to Spike.
NIBBLET: Now THAT’S hot.
JAMES: Of course, if I want anymore kids, I need to keep her around. Damn. *grumblepouty*
NIBBLET: Um. Dearest? First off-The Wifebot? Not really your wife. Second off-I’m not exactly one of the menfolk, if you catch my drift.
JAMES: Are you flirting with me?
NIBBLET: Honey, you’ve single-handedly redefined the female orgasm. Of course I’m flirting with you.
WIFEBOT: Does she have to follow us everywhere?
JAMES: *smirks* She-who?
WIFEBOT: That chick you’re always talking to.
JAMES: Yes.
NIBBLET: *razzes* Suck it, ho.
WIFEBOT: *scoffs* Jimmy! Make her stop.
JAMES: *smirks harder* You heard her. Hop to it, toots.
NIBBLET: *giggles* I meant it in general terms, honey.
JAMES: I meant it literally.
NIBBLET: I think she’s a bit pissed at you right now.
JAMES: Is she pissed at YOU? ‘Cause I could subscribe to some of that if you’re both game.
NIBBLET: In your dreams, babe. And only if you’re involved.
JAMES: Already done. Wouldn’t mind seeing the dream realized.
WIFEBOT: I can’t believe I tongue kissed you.
NIBBLET: Seriously-who hired the Pop Tart Queen here? The Christian Drama Guild?
JAMES: THIS shirt? Really? C’mon. I color-coordinated better when I was undead, paler than chalk, a social outcast, and crazybeans in the noggin!
NIBBLET: It IS very reminiscent of a subway toilet.
JAMES: Didn’t ask for a commentary from YOU, Nibblet.
NIBBLET: I’m over here, silly.
JAMES: I told you to stop doing that!
NIBBLET: I’d call you my big, nummy Hershey Bar, but I kinda sorta already ruined the visual.
JAMES: You’re gonna stop right there.
NIBBLET: Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, ya cute little fudgesicle!
JAMES: You done?
NIBBLET: Maybe. Where are you going?
JAMES: Wifebot’s making a nice dinner for everyone. I’m supposed to bring home canned peas.
NIBBLET: Thank you for not inviting me.
JAMES: Hey, now. I wanted you to come, but she has this weird problem with you.
NIBBLET: I’m always mocking her?
JAMES: I’M always mocking her.
NIBBLET: I was actually being serious about the non-invite, btw. See, *I* have this weird problem with peas. Especially when they’re canned.
JAMES: Wimp.
NIBBLET: Wigga.
JAMES: Pussy.
NIBBLET: Fuzzy-Wuzzy.
JAMES: That was lame.
NIBBLET: Especially ‘cause it’s true, ma petit brownie!
JAMES: I thought you said my hair was great, missy.
NIBBLET: Are you saying Fuzzy-Wuzzy WASN’T great, mister?
JAMES: So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight, then?
NIBBLET: You know it. Now, scoot-you’re starting to blend into those walls and they’re just not worthy.
JAMES: Where are we and how did we end up here, anyway?
NIBBLET: Because it was a cheap location shoot? I dunno. It’s YOUR stupid movie, Marsters.
JAMES: Hey! I needed the money-you know that.
NIBBLET: Ever heard of porn?
Mmm. Pretteh, pretteh profile shot!! Delish. Take a moment to absorb. . . okay, back to the “important matters.” LMAO.
JAMES: One can of peas, please.
NIBBLET: Why don’t you say that ten times fast?
JAMES: I’m Juilliard-trained. I could say it 28 times fast.
NIBBLET: You should probably get more than just one can.
JAMES: Why? The only person who really likes peas is Wifebot.
NIBBLET: Just trust me on this. And get some wine, too.
JAMES: *sigh*
NIBBLET: You’ll thank me later.
JAMES: That’s right, dude. Just focus on the task at hand. Focus. Maybe she won’t even notice Nibblet’s here. Just act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Focus.
NIBBLET: Um, why are you cutting your kid’s mashed potatoes, hon?
CASSINI: *gobble, snort, slurp, smack* Man, this is so much better than Taco Bell.
WIFEBOT: Um, Mr. Mafia-person, sir? We don’t usually eat the bones. . .
JAMES: Dude, I never really thought about this before, but how’d my smokin’ hot fake wife and the prettiness that is me end up with such a funky-looking kid?
NIBBLET: I’ve been wondering the same thing for over a hundred pictures. And use your inner voice, babe. She's been traumatized enough for one day.
JAMES: No way. No way would she have done the horizontal bop with that gangster-bitch twerp. Idiot doesn’t have even a THIRD of my skillz.
WIFEBOT: That child is SO not mine. And is he talking to that chick again?
JAMES: More wine, dear?
NIBBLET: And props to wardrobe for the exceptionally good choice of shirts for Mr. Marsters this evening! *seductive growl*
NIBBLET: See, I told you the wine would come in handy. And does that look like just one can of peas in that bowl?
JAMES: Thank you and I owe you one, baby.
NIBBLET: Do I know how to fend off an awkward situation, or what?
JAMES: Have some happy juice, Nibblet. And then have some more with that.
JAMES: So why are you here?
CASSINI: You invited me to dinner.
NIBBLET: Ooooh!! Liking the ensemble, Mr. Sex-ay! RAAAWAR.
JAMES: You and I both know there’s more to the story than that.
CASSINI: Really. . . not.
WIFEBOT: Did everyone like my pot roast?
JAMES: It was turkey, retard.
JAMES: So the deal didn’t go down as planned. This is bad. Really bad.
CASSINI: Dude. There was no deal. We never even planned a deal. You invited me to dinner. That’s it.
NIBBLET: Marsters. . . you are one smokin’ hot, gorgeous example of Man, Perfected. *gawks at t3h exposed flesh*
Such a pretteh, pretteh boy!!!!!!
JAMES: What’s this, assface?
CASSINI: It’s our anniversary. I got you tickets to “Wicked.”
JAMES: Get out! You did NOT!
CASSINI: First balcony, second row.
JAMES: *giggles*
JAMES: This totally rocks!
CASSINI: Yeah. . . well. . . you deserve it.
JAMES: How’d you know I wanted to see this?
NIBBLET: Aren’t you more worried about the “anniversary” schtick?
JAMES: I don’t know what to say, bro.
CASSINI: Well, sometimes you don’t have to SAY anything.
NIBBLET: Uh-oh.
JAMES: Thank you. Thanks a lot. Really.
JAMES: And you don’t have to come with me. The tix are enough.
CASSINI: Well, I really don’t mind tagging along. . .
JAMES: I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you’re not a theatre guy.
CASSINI: But I really wouldn’t mind. . .
JAMES: *beams so pretty* You’re a real pal.
NIBBLET: I think he wants to kiss you.
CASSINI: Kiss me.
NIBBLET: Oh, dear.
JAMES: *puffs on his man-stick*
NIBBLET: God, that is so hot.
JAMES: Nibblet.
NIBBLET: Just calling ‘em as I see ‘em, you big hunk.
JAMES: So how long has this little obsession been going on?
NIBBLET: 4 years.
JAMES: Not YOU.
CASSINI: It’s not an obsession. Feelings aren’t an obsession.
JAMES: But some feelings are wrong, John.
CASSINI: Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.
NIBBLET: You have the cutest ears, you know that?
JAMES: *enters discerning!Spike mode* I wasn’t saying you’re wrong to have feelings-I was saying that maybe you’re not feeling what you think you’re feeling. That’s all.
CASSINI: I love you and I want you to be my love monkey. That’s what I’m feeling.
JAMES: Okay, then. I guess you ARE feeling what you think you’re feeling.
NIBBLET: Well, duh-look at you. It’s all *I* can do to keep from nose-diving onto your face.
JAMES: So what are we gonna do about this, John? You haven’t left me with a lot of options here.
CASSINI: So you DON’T wanna be my love monkey?
JAMES: Not particularly. I already have a love monkey, plus change.
SPIKE: Oh, don’t even think about bringing ME into this, Peach Fuzz. That was just one time-ONE TIME!
JAMES: We never agreed that anything was just a one-time deal. That was the whole point, Blondie.
SPIKE: Don’t try any of your mind game manipulation tactics on me. I invented that game.
JAMES: I know. And you liked it.
SPIKE: . . .
JAMES: *triumphant*
SPIKE: I did. I did like it. . .
JAMES: Shit! Don’t look at him. . . don’t look at him. . . gah!!
JAMES: *world’s greatest poker face*
SPIKE: Looks like you’re REALLY enjoying that cigar, mate.
JAMES: Don’t make me come over there.
SPIKE: I never make you do anything you haven’t already been aching to do in the first place.
JAMES: *exhales*
SPIKE: *inhales*
Oh, damn, I do love me some Spames... nummy. And, yes, sadly--there's more to come, and the next installmentishness is almost finished, actually. But I'll make sure to POST more beforehand. October was a frightfully busy month, but really... it's not hard to peep in and say hey. Because I love you :) *smooch*
So I've been telling tales of the next installment of Cool Money, MY way, and I think I'm satisfied with Part Eight. God. Why have I let this madness continue? Anyway, I thought I'd offer it up to you as penance for being gone so long and you can tell me if it's insufficient and you'll be requiring my firstborn instead. It's your call :) I even made a slight adjustment on the last one, because I didn't think it was as entertaining as it could have been, so check out the OnStar bit again--I think it's more appropriate. You'll see what I mean.
A'ight. Let's rock this... website.
Cool Money, MY way: It Starts!
Cool Money, MY way: Part Deux
Cool Money, MY way: Enter Fangirl!Wifebot OMG
Cool Money, MY way: K-Fed Wannabe Wigga!James Wears HAZMAT PJs
Cool Money, MY way: True confessions of Prison Bitch!James
Cool Money, MY way: Let the Spames Begin
Cool Money, MY way: Boob Cramps and the Seduction of OnStar
Consider yourselves duly warned. Massive retardism to follow. No, seriously.
JAMES: Peek-a-boo-you’ll never guess whooooooooo!!!
WIFEBOT: EEEEEEEE!!!!! JAMES MARSTERS!!! JAMES MARSTERS!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ZOMG!!! ZOMG!!!
JAMES: Okaaaaaay, maybe you're not QUITE as dumb as I thought you were.
WIFEBOT: *fangirlz* Hee! I'm not dumb!
JAMES: *sing-song* I didn't say THAT, punkin!
WIFEBOT: Deeheeheehee!!!! Wow, I totally can't see anything!!
JAMES: There’s my good girl! And why can’t you see anything?
WIFEBOT: Because it’s all dark in here!
JAMES: You like it all dark in there, don’t ya?
WIFEBOT: *gigglesqueakspazz* Yay!
JAMES: You like it when I cover your eyes and make you wonder where I am, don’t ya?
WIFEBOT: *bounces* Where are you, where are you?? Eeee!!!
JAMES: *having insanely dirty thoughts but we forgive him because damn those hands are so beautiful despite what a naughty boy he is*
WIFEBOT: OMG!!! MWHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! OMGOMGOMG!!!! JAMES MARSTERS is, liek, covering my eyes, AAAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
JAMES: *knows we’ll continue to forgive him because GAWD isn’t he just the cutest thing on the face of this planet*
WIFEBOT: *would stand there all night if James would let her*
JAMES: *was ready to have at it, like, five hours ago, already* Now, what did I do with that master bedroom...??
WIFEBOT: *luckiest damn bitch in the whole fucking universe* Honey? Are you still there?
JAMES: Bwuuuhhh....!!
WIFEBOT: Sweetie love? What was that?
JAMES: Gnnynnyehhhuahh.... you squeezed my penis finger, you stupid twit.
WIFEBOT: Oooh, stairs, wheee!!
JAMES: I didn’t say you had to STOP squeezing it.
WIFEBOT: I can SEE again!!! And it’s better than I remember! Everything’s so bright and shiny!
JAMES: So... you’re through with my hands, then? ‘Cause it sounded like you were having fun with that.
WIFEBOT: *still on her acid trip from going down those stairs*
JAMES: Sweetie-*sigh* No... squeeze the special finger, not the sweater.
WIFEBOT: Look, there are the stairs again, yay!!
JAMES: Yay! Why don’t we have sex on them?
WIFEBOT: *fangirly tackle-glomp of James-induced frisky*
JAMES: *is clearly very used to this*
Again, Nibblet wants to mock the pic, but finds herself doing the “awww...” thing and admiring it just a bit too much to adequately make with the funny. Isn’t he sweet? *ruffles his buzzcut*
WIFEBOT: Hee! We’re gonna have sex!
JAMES: *seductive mouth-thing* Baby, you have NO idea just how sexed up you’re gonna be.
NIBBLET: Of course she doesn’t. I mean, look at what she’s WEARING, for God’s sake. I bet the Bubble Yum people are lamenting their missing spokesperson.
WIFEBOT: I’m gonna getcha! ‘Cause I’m a vampire! RRRRAAAWWR….
JAMES: You’re lucky you’re hot ‘cause I would so be outta here otherwise.
WIFEBOT: Are you gonna tongue kiss me, or what?
JAMES: Well, you could go back to groping my finger again. That was pretty decent.
WIFEBOT: *smoooooooochies*
JAMES: *thinks about his previous encounter with Spike*
WIFEBOT: *drowning, melting, succumbing to the deliciousness that is James Marsters’ kissing*
JAMES: *really intently thinking about his previous encounter with Spike*
NIBBLET: Don’t mind me, but are you guys cool with your kid watching you make out?
JAMES: Awww, shit.
WIFEBOT: We have a kid?
NIBBLET: Right there, diptard. Off to the left. Way to go with the traumatizing, there, Dr. Phil.
WIFEBOT: Who?
JAMES: Down, Nibblet. She’s not our real kid, so don’t be so-you don’t know who DR. PHIL is?!
JAMES: Look, it’s just something that happens sometimes. I can’t help it.
WIFEBOT: It’s wrong. It’s weird and it’s wrong.
JAMES: Yeah, well, some people find it extremely arousing.
WIFEBOT: Your FANS don’t count. You could freaknasty a La-Z-Boy and they’d cheer you on.
JAMES: Hey--what’s going on here? You’re supposed to be dumb, not philosophical and morally pretentious.
WIFEBOT: Don’t make this about me-you’re the one who fantasizes about himself while he’s canoodling his wife.
JAMES: Not ME. Spike.
WIFEBOT: Sure. The other you. Only I bet he doesn’t fantasize about YOU when he’s floompfing Buffy.
JAMES: *wibble* You-you take that back.
WIFEBOT: Just making an educated guess.
JAMES: You don’t know him. You don’t know anything ABOUT HIM!!!
NIBBLET: And since when did you start making educated anythings, princess?
JAMES: She’s wrong. She’s way wrong. Totally wrong, dude. She’s hot, but she’s dumb, stupid and SO wrong. Yes, wrong.
NIBBLET: She IS hot, though.
JAMES: She’s nothing compared to Spike.
NIBBLET: Now THAT’S hot.
JAMES: Of course, if I want anymore kids, I need to keep her around. Damn. *grumblepouty*
NIBBLET: Um. Dearest? First off-The Wifebot? Not really your wife. Second off-I’m not exactly one of the menfolk, if you catch my drift.
JAMES: Are you flirting with me?
NIBBLET: Honey, you’ve single-handedly redefined the female orgasm. Of course I’m flirting with you.
WIFEBOT: Does she have to follow us everywhere?
JAMES: *smirks* She-who?
WIFEBOT: That chick you’re always talking to.
JAMES: Yes.
NIBBLET: *razzes* Suck it, ho.
WIFEBOT: *scoffs* Jimmy! Make her stop.
JAMES: *smirks harder* You heard her. Hop to it, toots.
NIBBLET: *giggles* I meant it in general terms, honey.
JAMES: I meant it literally.
NIBBLET: I think she’s a bit pissed at you right now.
JAMES: Is she pissed at YOU? ‘Cause I could subscribe to some of that if you’re both game.
NIBBLET: In your dreams, babe. And only if you’re involved.
JAMES: Already done. Wouldn’t mind seeing the dream realized.
WIFEBOT: I can’t believe I tongue kissed you.
NIBBLET: Seriously-who hired the Pop Tart Queen here? The Christian Drama Guild?
JAMES: THIS shirt? Really? C’mon. I color-coordinated better when I was undead, paler than chalk, a social outcast, and crazybeans in the noggin!
NIBBLET: It IS very reminiscent of a subway toilet.
JAMES: Didn’t ask for a commentary from YOU, Nibblet.
NIBBLET: I’m over here, silly.
JAMES: I told you to stop doing that!
NIBBLET: I’d call you my big, nummy Hershey Bar, but I kinda sorta already ruined the visual.
JAMES: You’re gonna stop right there.
NIBBLET: Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, ya cute little fudgesicle!
JAMES: You done?
NIBBLET: Maybe. Where are you going?
JAMES: Wifebot’s making a nice dinner for everyone. I’m supposed to bring home canned peas.
NIBBLET: Thank you for not inviting me.
JAMES: Hey, now. I wanted you to come, but she has this weird problem with you.
NIBBLET: I’m always mocking her?
JAMES: I’M always mocking her.
NIBBLET: I was actually being serious about the non-invite, btw. See, *I* have this weird problem with peas. Especially when they’re canned.
JAMES: Wimp.
NIBBLET: Wigga.
JAMES: Pussy.
NIBBLET: Fuzzy-Wuzzy.
JAMES: That was lame.
NIBBLET: Especially ‘cause it’s true, ma petit brownie!
JAMES: I thought you said my hair was great, missy.
NIBBLET: Are you saying Fuzzy-Wuzzy WASN’T great, mister?
JAMES: So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight, then?
NIBBLET: You know it. Now, scoot-you’re starting to blend into those walls and they’re just not worthy.
JAMES: Where are we and how did we end up here, anyway?
NIBBLET: Because it was a cheap location shoot? I dunno. It’s YOUR stupid movie, Marsters.
JAMES: Hey! I needed the money-you know that.
NIBBLET: Ever heard of porn?
Mmm. Pretteh, pretteh profile shot!! Delish. Take a moment to absorb. . . okay, back to the “important matters.” LMAO.
JAMES: One can of peas, please.
NIBBLET: Why don’t you say that ten times fast?
JAMES: I’m Juilliard-trained. I could say it 28 times fast.
NIBBLET: You should probably get more than just one can.
JAMES: Why? The only person who really likes peas is Wifebot.
NIBBLET: Just trust me on this. And get some wine, too.
JAMES: *sigh*
NIBBLET: You’ll thank me later.
JAMES: That’s right, dude. Just focus on the task at hand. Focus. Maybe she won’t even notice Nibblet’s here. Just act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Focus.
NIBBLET: Um, why are you cutting your kid’s mashed potatoes, hon?
CASSINI: *gobble, snort, slurp, smack* Man, this is so much better than Taco Bell.
WIFEBOT: Um, Mr. Mafia-person, sir? We don’t usually eat the bones. . .
JAMES: Dude, I never really thought about this before, but how’d my smokin’ hot fake wife and the prettiness that is me end up with such a funky-looking kid?
NIBBLET: I’ve been wondering the same thing for over a hundred pictures. And use your inner voice, babe. She's been traumatized enough for one day.
JAMES: No way. No way would she have done the horizontal bop with that gangster-bitch twerp. Idiot doesn’t have even a THIRD of my skillz.
WIFEBOT: That child is SO not mine. And is he talking to that chick again?
JAMES: More wine, dear?
NIBBLET: And props to wardrobe for the exceptionally good choice of shirts for Mr. Marsters this evening! *seductive growl*
NIBBLET: See, I told you the wine would come in handy. And does that look like just one can of peas in that bowl?
JAMES: Thank you and I owe you one, baby.
NIBBLET: Do I know how to fend off an awkward situation, or what?
JAMES: Have some happy juice, Nibblet. And then have some more with that.
JAMES: So why are you here?
CASSINI: You invited me to dinner.
NIBBLET: Ooooh!! Liking the ensemble, Mr. Sex-ay! RAAAWAR.
JAMES: You and I both know there’s more to the story than that.
CASSINI: Really. . . not.
WIFEBOT: Did everyone like my pot roast?
JAMES: It was turkey, retard.
JAMES: So the deal didn’t go down as planned. This is bad. Really bad.
CASSINI: Dude. There was no deal. We never even planned a deal. You invited me to dinner. That’s it.
NIBBLET: Marsters. . . you are one smokin’ hot, gorgeous example of Man, Perfected. *gawks at t3h exposed flesh*
Such a pretteh, pretteh boy!!!!!!
JAMES: What’s this, assface?
CASSINI: It’s our anniversary. I got you tickets to “Wicked.”
JAMES: Get out! You did NOT!
CASSINI: First balcony, second row.
JAMES: *giggles*
JAMES: This totally rocks!
CASSINI: Yeah. . . well. . . you deserve it.
JAMES: How’d you know I wanted to see this?
NIBBLET: Aren’t you more worried about the “anniversary” schtick?
JAMES: I don’t know what to say, bro.
CASSINI: Well, sometimes you don’t have to SAY anything.
NIBBLET: Uh-oh.
JAMES: Thank you. Thanks a lot. Really.
JAMES: And you don’t have to come with me. The tix are enough.
CASSINI: Well, I really don’t mind tagging along. . .
JAMES: I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you’re not a theatre guy.
CASSINI: But I really wouldn’t mind. . .
JAMES: *beams so pretty* You’re a real pal.
NIBBLET: I think he wants to kiss you.
CASSINI: Kiss me.
NIBBLET: Oh, dear.
JAMES: *puffs on his man-stick*
NIBBLET: God, that is so hot.
JAMES: Nibblet.
NIBBLET: Just calling ‘em as I see ‘em, you big hunk.
JAMES: So how long has this little obsession been going on?
NIBBLET: 4 years.
JAMES: Not YOU.
CASSINI: It’s not an obsession. Feelings aren’t an obsession.
JAMES: But some feelings are wrong, John.
CASSINI: Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.
NIBBLET: You have the cutest ears, you know that?
JAMES: *enters discerning!Spike mode* I wasn’t saying you’re wrong to have feelings-I was saying that maybe you’re not feeling what you think you’re feeling. That’s all.
CASSINI: I love you and I want you to be my love monkey. That’s what I’m feeling.
JAMES: Okay, then. I guess you ARE feeling what you think you’re feeling.
NIBBLET: Well, duh-look at you. It’s all *I* can do to keep from nose-diving onto your face.
JAMES: So what are we gonna do about this, John? You haven’t left me with a lot of options here.
CASSINI: So you DON’T wanna be my love monkey?
JAMES: Not particularly. I already have a love monkey, plus change.
SPIKE: Oh, don’t even think about bringing ME into this, Peach Fuzz. That was just one time-ONE TIME!
JAMES: We never agreed that anything was just a one-time deal. That was the whole point, Blondie.
SPIKE: Don’t try any of your mind game manipulation tactics on me. I invented that game.
JAMES: I know. And you liked it.
SPIKE: . . .
JAMES: *triumphant*
SPIKE: I did. I did like it. . .
JAMES: Shit! Don’t look at him. . . don’t look at him. . . gah!!
JAMES: *world’s greatest poker face*
SPIKE: Looks like you’re REALLY enjoying that cigar, mate.
JAMES: Don’t make me come over there.
SPIKE: I never make you do anything you haven’t already been aching to do in the first place.
JAMES: *exhales*
SPIKE: *inhales*
Oh, damn, I do love me some Spames... nummy. And, yes, sadly--there's more to come, and the next installmentishness is almost finished, actually. But I'll make sure to POST more beforehand. October was a frightfully busy month, but really... it's not hard to peep in and say hey. Because I love you :) *smooch*