Back when I was still hauling ass to Walter Reed at unspeakable times in the morning, I had the idea that one April Fools Day, I would announce that the recruiting literature had worked on me, and I had decided to enlist in order to serve my country and further my career (and also to get a better parking space there, goddamn), and that I was
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In the meantime... Eau du Cloud?
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I remember that! My fanon Cloud smells different. *g*
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Now for the obvious question: What does your Cloud smell like?
Edit: Because I keep forgetting things today... the colognes are getting out of hand, though. There was that Resident Evil perfume Twig dug up (I think?), and one of my fandoms has recently produced character perfume, too. Of a character who... happens to be a bloodthirsty sociopath.
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Cloud's always struck me as a clean guy. (Hey, he got in the bath tub at the inn with all the horny dudes! Unless he has complexes I will not speculate about, maybe he just really wanted a bath.) So, I think of Cloud, I think of green and blue-- very fresh, despite all his travels. He's still young. I associate him with things like cut grass, the air after it's just rained, the forests in the early morning before the dew has disappeared, etc. Dandelions actually make sense!
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Not that you don't have my sympathies, but I'm kind of jealous of anyone who's had an illness that involved "vile effluvia," if for no other reason than it's a great phrase.
twigcollins: Hypothesis subject to change the next time he appears in a fountain claiming to be the Lizard King.
I'm pretty sure he's top on my list of people I'm glad haven't been found dead, naked in a ditch, and reeking of Iron Man cologne and hookers.
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I'm kind of jealous of anyone who's had an illness that involved "vile effluvia," if for no other reason than it's a great phrase.
How's this-- I'll save it all in a jar, and mail it to you.
I love RDJ. Even if he did go out reeking of Iron Man cologne and hookers, I am sure it would be pretty spectacular. God help us if he and Keith Richards figure out how to impregnate each other. Their spawn would never die.
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I shall love it and pet it and call it George.
God help us if he and Keith Richards figure out how to impregnate each other. Their spawn would never die.
Stop giving the RPS fangirls ideas! Then again, we could introduce their offspring to Sting and they could spend the rest of eternity having tantric sex.
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I think someone else's quote sums it up best-- "Man, Keith Richards looks like a hundred miles of bad road, but Iggy Pop looks like we need to find the egg he hid his death in."
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*HUG* I hope that the ear infection gets better soon, that the antibiotics don't give you any nasty side effects (especially that kind of side effect), and that the project progresses quickly but not too quickly and certainly not too insanely.
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*hug* Thank you. With luck, the yogurt will help me out. The cherry blossoms are just gorgeous; the last two days have really made them pop.
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(Cali just jumped onto my lap and made a very demanding trill. I assume she demands I let you know that she said hello. Either that or she wants tummeh rubs.)
Get better! Want you to feel well. And I hope the cherry blossoms will still be looking so lovely when we head down next weekend.
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Eee! Inspector Cali! Give her a tummy rub for me. I should send you a picture of Dean's cat, Blue. (He is not actually blue.)
I hope I shall! The antibiotics are working away. With luck, there'll still be a fair amount of blossoms left.
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But do post pics if you acquire a Victorian ear trumpet.
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The more I think about it, the more an ear trumpet seems like a very useful item to have. Why haven't I been carrying one around?
I really need to make a Johnny icon.
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Oh geez, the last time I had an ear infection there was difficulty standing upright, but I never experienced vile effluvia. My sympathies. …I was considering making a joke here about using the humourous Victorian ear trumpet as a channel for said vile effluvia, but I won't because ew.
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The last time this happened, I actually thought my brain had exploded for a few seconds, and figured it was some kind of divine punishment for being-- well, me. It was totally gross.
I do wonder how many pranks you could play with an ear trumpet and vile effluvia.
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