hello! you rock! well, not you. but the rest of you!

[schmerica]

Gah, time for shower and nap. Or nap and shower.

In the mean time: I am having a weird week, people. Comment and give me diversions and I will love you.

I have made up a list, even! Um, because I am the sort of person who makes up lists. Yes.

good topics:

mounties. slash. porn. recipes. books. mp3s. russia. russian. things that sound dirty but aren't. my hair. mocking of people. nice things about me. puffin face! the hotness of: a) ckr; b) season 1 fraser; c) alan cumming; d) the three main stars of king arthur. the obvious lesbian subtext of disney movies. wind-up sushi. non-american candy. canada. things that are sparkly. the land before time. jane austen. movies that i suck for never having seen. office supplies. sekrits. samuel vimes. kittens. which bus stop i switch from the 48 to the 41 at on the way home from safeway. things that smell like coconut. crazy space incest. stories people should write for you. linguistic dorkiness.

...But, you know. Those are just suggestions. You could always write me comment fic. Or ignore me completely!

I'm not sure what's up with me being completely insane this week. I am tempted to blame it on various suspects, but I haven't figured out yet how it can be all their faults at once.

Comments

[axiom_of_stripe]

From his guard post in front of the Consulate, Fraser could dimly hear Turnbull's voice cheering thunderously. He hadn't known that there was a game on tonight; it must be a local team that Turnbull followed even from abroad. Still, it was torment to stand out here while there was curling on -- in fact, a certain devilish temptation was seizing him. If he stepped sideways, opened the front window a crack, and stepped back into place immediately, he would be able to hear the game. There was no one on the street to see him. Before he could think too much about it, he whipped sideways, hit the frame of the window with the heel of his hand, and snapped back into place. Eyes left and right: no one had seen him.

"Yes!" a voice yelled, and was that Inspector Thatcher? It was! He hadn't even known she was a fan of the roaring game. "Yes, deeper!" she cried.

Fraser tensed. They must be placing an important rock: he squinted slightly to picture the cool white ice, the sweepers bent over and frantically sweeping to move the rock closer to the house.

"Oh! Is biting all right?" Turnbull sounded worried.

"Of course it is," Thatcher said, or rather snapped. Fraser sighed. A rock merely biting the outer ring wasn't as exciting as one in the center, even if it was strategically important.

There was a pause, and he heard a little moan from Thatcher. The next shot must have been poor. He concentrated, trying to hear the commentary from the television itself. He wasn't sure -- but then there was a solid thump, as if two people had jumped in excitement, and then they were both yelling:

"Harder!" Thatcher cried.

"Harder! Harder!" Turnbull echoed.

Thatcher sounded ecstatic. "All the way in! Yes, oh yes!"

"It's as deep as -- oh! Yes! Inspector, Inspector, the button--!" Turnbull's voice broke with emotion.

Fraser ground his teeth in frustration. What an exciting game! And Thatcher had put him on guard duty today for spilling his coffee, of all the ridiculous indignities. It was almost as if she hadn't wanted him at his desk while this game was on -- but no. That was the height of paranoia.

Was the game over? All he could here now was a vague shuffling around. Didn't Thatcher want to listen to the after-game commentary? A replay of that last exciting shot?

"All right, Constable. I think you're needed at the front desk now."

Apparently not.

"Of course, Inspector. And may I say thank you--"

Thatcher interrupted him. "You may not." She didn't sound very put out, though. "This is not something to which you should become...accustomed." Certainly not! Fraser thought. Allowing on-duty personnel to watch a sporting event was surprising enough once. "Although it was enjoyable. However, duty calls. I am going around the corner to get a latte, and I expect you at your post when I return."

"Sir!" Turnbull said.

"Very good," Thatcher said, and Fraser held himself stiff with resentment as she opened the door and walked past him without a glance.

He glared at her retreating back, and then began to worry. Thatcher was walking very oddly, as if she had perhaps pulled a muscle in her thigh. He would have to remember to offer her some liniment -- not as a bribe to be allowed to watch the next game, of course, but merely as a kind gesture....

[spainja.livejournal.com]

**chokes on milk and oreos**

**dies**

[akite.livejournal.com]

:snort: I'm glad I refrained from taking a drink while I was reading that. Too fucking funny.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Bwahahahaha! Dude, you totally rock so very very much.

[lynnmonster.livejournal.com]

*snickers uncontrollably*