"I just want to be a trained killer!"

Katie and I spag-bolled last night – very nice, as usual. Didn’t lose any bay leaves – result! Watched random Skins bits which were highly entertaining, so may well watch properly. Also watched the first part of Sense & Sensibility off that iPlayer thing. Willoughby, you blackguard! Hung some laundry out (yay me for remembering - wouldn’t be the first time I had stuff mouldering in the washing machine). Also have remembered my father’s present to post (yes, I suck, I know). Think bad complexion may also be due to drinking gallons of coffee since the advent of the coffee machine (albeit in mochaccino form) as well as total lack of fruit and veg in diet currently.

On a sadder and more personal note, I am aghast. Deeply disappointed, and I don’t know where to turn. I think I need some kind of high-necked flannel nightdress and a cat. Midnight assignations. Anonymous hotels. Ripped fishnet stockings (well, in my imagination, not necessarily actually). Oh, quick, my smelling salts…

New Year SDC!!

A New Year, a new SDC!

For this one, I'm thinking outsider POV, because they're always fun. Give me a fandom character and an outsider role (teacher, binman, whatever)...

SDC #27

Bones, security officers
::as requested by pim2005::

Jim’n me’ve got a bet on. Twenty bucks. Agent Booth and Doc Brennan. Cuz, man, it’s gonna happen, sooner or later. The Doc’s pretty clueless, but that’s not gonna last forever. Though how she manages to not get it, I just don’t know. Booth’s all over her, ‘specially when some nutjob has threatened her. Or the Jeffersonian. Or, like, someone with a name that begins with B. Jim says it’s not gonna happen, that they just work together. But then Jim thought Ms Montenegro and Doc Hodgins just worked together. Uh-huh. I know. Jim should just go, like, register himself blind. That’s gonna be a sweet twenty bucks. Plus, once they’re, y’know, doing it, maybe Booth’ll have a better idea of what she’s up to, and not keep calling us every damn day wanting to ‘just check in’ and making sure she’s not been kidnapped or anything crazy.

Don’t think he doesn’t do that. Every day. Clockwork. I tell ya, it’s a relief when he’s working a case with them over here and can check for himself. Now that we’ve got that Golga-whatsit thing in the building, he’s been even worse. Geez, I hope Jim doesn’t let it slip to the Doc. She’d be pretty pissed. Still, Booth’d talk her round. He always can. That kind of a guy. I wonder why her? I mean, she’s pretty hot and all, but, if you ask me, kinda crazy. Though I guess she was nice when she signed her book for me. Ah, whatever. As long as I get my twenty bucks, I’m happy. Hey, gotta go. Phone. Yeah, three guesses who that is.

SDC #28

St Trinian's, audience member
::as requested by katie__pillar::

Oh. My. God. You so will totally not guess what happened! What? A painting? Oh god, who cares about some stupid old painting? Annabel the Cannibal took out Verity Thwaites. Uh-huh. Completely. I mean, I don’t even know how she did it, but Verity took off – no, I don’t know why, and she’s got amnesia now – and Annabel followed her, and knocked her out. Yep, stone cold. Like, unconscious. Miss Bagstock had to drag her to the coach. Annabel had used her phone. Bagface was on to their headmistress – yeah, the crazy one – so fast, I, like, totally got whiplash. She looked completely pissed off, though, so I don’t think she got anywhere.

The quiz? Who cares about the stupid quiz? We lost, anyway. That girl, Chelsea – yep. I know. Totally gorgeous – was answering loads of questions. What? Oh, god, shut up about the painting. So what if there were burglars going across suspended wires and stuff – oh, just something I saw – the main thing is Annabel knocking out Verity.

I know. How. Cool. I totally want to go to St Trinian’s.

SDC #29

Supernatural, amulet
::as requested by helenmia::

Watch out! Be careful! Oh, sweet deity, I hope you’re planning to polish that mark! Ugh, small boys. Sold as a trinket to a small boy. That is so undignified. I am Powerful. I am Glorious. I am… A paper bag! I can never, ever tell anyone about this. I would never hear the end of it. Stuck in a paper bag for a tiny curly child. And he’s not going to polish me, I can just tell. Oh, the anguish of my life! That an amulet of my greatness should be reduced to such circumstances! It’s all that stupid demon’s fault. Oh, la, let me smite all these people! Oh, la, let me leap about in a terrifying fashion! Oh, la, let me lose my precious, precious amulet, and then be completely incapable of finding it, even with a super-high-powered torch and three minions to help me look! Stupid demon. Stupid minions.

Oh. OK. He’s polishing me. That’s better. That’s… Hmm. Heh. Ooh, that’s nice. Yes, yes, just to the left a bit, just to… Oh. Oh, yes, baby.

Huh? What? Tiny curly child? Don’t be harsh, he’s cute. Wait, what? Newspaper? This is filthy. I’m going to be filthy. I can never show my face again. My beautiful amulet sheen will be forever… Oh, hello. Hellllooooo. Oh, I like you. You’re going to be pretty. Don’t we look good? Huh? Don’t we? Yeah, that’s right, a bit of a polish. We’re beautiful, darling. Beautiful.

SDC #30

The West Wing, Toby's bouncy ball
::as requested by bookwormsarah::

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

State secrets? Really? Thank fuck.

"Somebody get on the phone to CNN and find out if we hit anything."

In honour of the primaries, I give you a cartoon my grandmother send me ages ago: