I'm rewatching the season 4 premiere of Alias right now, and this screencap struck me:

THAT IS AN A+++ WAY IMPERSONATION THERE, SYD. I APPROVE.
I need an icon of Gabe looking all "wtf" sitting in the office in the new Guilty Pleasure video. If someone can provide this for me, I will give you a cookie! It will be delicious and chocolatey.
In other news, Brian Schechter continues to be the hottest dude in bandom.

THAT IS AN A+++ WAY IMPERSONATION THERE, SYD. I APPROVE.
I need an icon of Gabe looking all "wtf" sitting in the office in the new Guilty Pleasure video. If someone can provide this for me, I will give you a cookie! It will be delicious and chocolatey.
In other news, Brian Schechter continues to be the hottest dude in bandom.
(no subject)
7/5/08 01:08 (UTC)*beams* Why yes. Yes he does.
(no subject)
7/5/08 06:10 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 06:13 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 01:26 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 06:10 (UTC)lurker~!
7/5/08 01:30 (UTC)and
Re: lurker~!
7/5/08 06:10 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 02:07 (UTC)Indeed.
(no subject)
7/5/08 06:11 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 04:41 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 06:11 (UTC)(no subject)
7/5/08 05:21 (UTC)And also, yes to Brian. Yes, a lot. Through extensive mental testing I have discovered that Brian/anyone else you can think of makes for pleasing imaginings.
Brian/MCR, Brian/Cobra Starship (they'd steal him and MCR would have to steal him back), Brian/Joe, Brian/Ian... it even works with crossovers. Brian the motherfucking Immortal!
(no subject)
7/5/08 06:12 (UTC)I may have to test this theory of yours myself. Much, much testing.
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7/5/08 16:07 (UTC)Gambling for money doesn't work, so they have to gamble for things that matter. Exclusives, special features, permissions. Gerard throws in right-to-wear-a-feather-boa-for-the-next-three-shows, loses it (bitterly) to Vicky-T, someone decides to call with a "groping your bassist on stage". the stakes get higher, they're waging lunches, dance moves, exclusive use of Queen for the length of the tour. Gerard wins back the rights to pink-feather-boas-on-stage, Nate gets T-shirts-with-bandmates-names-on "What the fuck!" Frank says, throwing down his cards in disgust. "No-one can even fucking see you behind your fucking kit, motherfucker! Fuck!" Nate doesn't blink, just makes a mental note to gamble use-of-the-word-fuck next round.)
And then it's the final round, and the only ones left in are Nate and Bob. Gerard's rubbing Bob's shoulders like he's a prize-fighter, everyone gathered around their drummer. There's a pile of paper in the middle of the table, promises and permissions, Bob looks at his cards, looks at what's on the table. "Brian," he says. No emotion, cool as a cucumber. "Bob, are you sure--" Frank starts to say, but Bob just stares across the table at Nate.
Nate doesn't say a word. He just pushes his pile of winnings across the table (the no-dirty-dancing-with-my-brother signed by Gabe right at the top) and calls.
(no subject)
7/5/08 17:48 (UTC)(no subject)
9/5/08 00:34 (UTC)(no subject)
9/5/08 06:13 (UTC)