#bonus banana colored tee

[silkchifffon]

Welcome to New York, Kitty Committee

#my merch #fan made merch #taylor swift #bonus banana colored tee

[apricotfox-blog]

Alllrighty I was tagged by @firrelord so here we go!

1. Name:

 Logan

2. Nickname:

No-one is safe when a nickname is used around me, so I'm going to twist the question into other names I'd like to have:

- Jasper

- I could maybe see myself as a Noah but it's too biblical for me

- Peregrine (Perry for short obviously)

3. Height: 

6'1/2"

4. Orientation: 

Bisexual, fire up that Bi-Fi my dudes

5. Nationality:

 Australian/Polish (2nd generation to be born in Australia)

6. Favorite Fruit:

Can we just not talk about fruit... Umm, Bananas I guess, typical ghei boi fruit I know

7. Favorite season:

It would be autumn if we still had it in this country but unfortunately hoodie weather is now a fable handed down in the many H&Ms, Targets & KMarts of the world, so Winter.

8. Favorite Scent: 

VANILLA. Also cinnamon is neat too I guess. Anything that smells like pastry is good for me.

9. Favorite color:

Pink in terms of just colour, but from the standpoint of my aesthetic Gold is probably my favourite.

10. Favorite animal: 

Foxes, Wolves, Deer, Owls are pretty dank too I guess. Typical woodland selection.

11. Coffee, tea, or Hot chocolate: 

Mocha or a Matcha Latte. BAM two birds with one stone.

12. Average sleep hours:

I stay up until anywhere from 12-3AM each night on my phone watching Twitch streams and lurking Tumblr/Insta. So yeah about 7-4hrs a night depends.

13. Dog or Cat Person:

Cats are smarter and independent but they're manipulative assholes. Dogs are fluffier and actually enjoy hugs but they need to be walked and have a CRAZY fixation around you. So honestly Cats are the lesser of two evils for an introvert.

14. Favorite fictional character (s): 

Hooohoohoooooooooooooooboy.

- Literally the entire cast of Fire Emblem Fates

× Especially Kaden, Keaton, Ryoma, Kana & Forrest

× Also Fae and Ninian from their respective games (I think they're both from FE7?)

- Numerous Pokemon, too many to count, also Lillie & Hau from Sun/Moon

- Most of the characters from Animal Crossing, life sims make me grow unnatural bonds to the most basic of characters lol

- Marie from Splatoon

- Every hero from the MCU is done perfectly

- Trucy from Phoenix Wright

- Literally everyone from NGNL

- Yoshi, Rosalina & Dry Bones

- Imma stop now...

15. Number of Blankets you sleep with: 

It is currently dead cold so the setup is Sheet, Blanket, Quilt, Knitted Blanket, Faux Fur. It's warm as heck though and it's great

16. Dream trip: 

Japan, maybe SKorea too but I've never gotten too deep into their culture

17. Blog created: 

Last year I think??? I forget, may have been year before.

18. Number of followers: 

I CAN'T CHECK IT WHILE I'M WRITING A POST WHY DO YOU PUT THIS SHIT AT THE END it's definitely sub 100 though

19. Random Fact: 

There's a rare genetic condition that can give you purple eyes AND shuts off the genes responsible for body hair. CRISPR is a thing. I want it.

20. Throwing in a bonus question: describe your aesthetic in 3 words:

Shiny Vaporwave Glitch

tagging: @sillydaisies @mahisha1702 @audrey-tee @kungfubot1308 @serrphic @daphnaea @lilttlebird @stark @aredhels @queeenpersephone @i-needafuckingname @forever-and-almost-always @je-suis-desole @bluestaratsunrise @maplequeen612 @lvnnsi @celebrlan @cerulean-shark @faramir-in-space

Just gonna tag the same people you did and throw in @fancyolive cause I don't know any of my friends tumblrs except for @kungfubot1308 & @fancyolive lol.

#Holy shit it made some original content instead of violently reblogging

[wordcharming]

Thursday In September

There are those who watch Jeopardy and those who watch Wheel of Fortune. (I know, some people watch both…just humor me for a second.) It could be said that one group of spectators is high-brow, educated, intellectual—the folks who peruse The New Yorker and The Economist whilst sipping on their Counter Culture pour-over. While the other tends to be made of up yokels who might not have much to offer in the brains department—those who thumb through People while gulping down Dunkin’s finest. 

Regardless of the target demographic, both shows seem to welcome jolly contestants who proudly exclaim that they’re married and, without fail, mention how wonderful, beautiful and lovely their spouses and children are. But what if they spoke the truth?

“I’m Ted. A yokel from a small town in Alabama who’s married to a whiny woman named Sarah who’s only with me for my money. We have two spoiled, bratty kids, Tessa and Jimmy. I’m currently having a mid-life crisis and I hate my job. Can’t wait to spin the wheel, Pat.” 

These are the things that went through Emily’s head while munching on pretzels with onion hummus, which tasted a lot like heart attack in a can, aka Lay’s French Onion dip, that she once couldn’t get enough of in the ’90s. She was a game show fanatic.

She wasn’t one of those ladies who had dreamt of the perfect wedding day, her Prince Charming, wealth, a career. Despite her old age, she was a lifelong spinster and she’d always preferred career hopping rather than being chained to the same desk for years and years. Since first seeing Supermarket Sweep during its original 1965 airing, all she’d ever really wanted was to be a contestant. She had been an audience member for one episode in 1997, but she never got chosen to compete. 

Each time she was at the ShopRite checkout and she heard the beep, she thought of the fun she could have on the game show. Running down the aisles of the empty grocery store, hurling turkeys and hams into her cart, tearing a clue off a giant inflatable banana, getting into a tug-of-war over with fellow contestants over the diapers, grinding coffee for bonus points! Oh, the joy! Who would accompany her on the show? Would it be her brother, a fellow longtime fan of the game show, or her best friend, Phyllis? She hadn’t thought that far into it. All she knew was that she wanted it. And she wanted it badly.  

Unfortunately for Emily that ship had sailed, for the show had gone off the air entirely in 2003. But all these years later still it was fun to fantasize about sharing the stage with David Ruprecht, his colorful sweaters and his treasure trove of corny jokes. She could only hope that if somehow in some other lifetime she got on the show, she wouldn’t get swept up in the excitement or ever have the chance to ram into David with a cart, which had happened on at least one occasion that she recalled.

These days Emily was a part-time hermit crab peddler at a mall kiosk, working the night shift three days a week and mostly living off her hefty retirement savings. Certainly not the most glamorous job, but she did like it. There was something about her crustacean companions that thoroughly amused her. They each had their own little personalities—Dragon the jerk, lovable Fiona, curious Ian—and their unofficial names, by which she called them. Even though she didn’t really support pet stores and the kiosk owner had a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it came to replenishing the stock, she had fallen in love with these little creatures one morning while mall walking with her frenemies, Gertrude and Penelope, two sisters she’d known since childhood.

The trio had trekked the mall every morning just as the gates cranked open one by one at the storefronts, soft rock music throbbed through what seemed to be invisible speakers, and the smell of hot pretzels began to permeate the stuffy air. They wore matching white t-shirts with My Three Mall Walkers embroidered over the left breast—a Penelope creation. She was never shy to brag about how she’d named the girl gang after her favorite childhood TV show, My Three Sons, how long it had taken her to weave the thick pink thread through the cotton tee, and how fabulous they had turned out. “Right, my lovelies? I did such a beautiful job.” 

Each morning was the same, meet at the double doors of the southwest entrance, the first to be unlocked, adjacent to JCPenney. Almost every time she approached, Emily’s frenemies snickered and then made a quip about her hairpiece, messy turquoise eyeshadow, or “old lady sneakers” followed by a, “Hun, we love you. You know we’re kidding, right?” Some days, when Samuel was working security, the Bobbsey Twins would flash him little coy, yet devilish, grins in synch whilst batting their mascara-slathered eyelashes and he would unlock the door a few minutes early. Though they were octogenarians, they never underestimated the power of flirtation.

This particular Thursday in September had started off just like any other and Samuel had in fact unlocked the doors two minutes before official opening time. The women passed the food court and movie theatre, Kay Jewelers, then H & M, made a right towards Victoria’s Secret, and turned to walk the perimeter of Macy’s. Penelope and Gertrude dominated the conversation as usual while Emily chimed in every now and then. Time flew by and even though it had been nearly an hour, it sure didn’t feel that way. Instead of continuing to the JCPenney finish line, Gertrude and Penelope suddenly bee-lined for the ice skating rink. 

“Emily! C’mon, darling. There’s no one on the ice right now and we feel like causing a wee bit of trouble,” Gertrude exclaimed, her veneers sparkling under the bright fluorescent light almost as if they were winking at Emily. 

Not one to bend the rules, Emily stayed behind and as her two friends giggled like schoolgirls and danced on the ice. Their fun was cut short when seemingly from out of a nowhere a Zamboni shaped like a shopping cart came barreling through.

“Gertrude! Penelope! Watch out for that Zamboni ,” Emily screamed while pointing her finger. “Please get out of the way!”

Before she could warn them any further and before they could take action, the Zamboni took them out like bowling pins. First Gertrude went down, and Penelope immediately followed. 

“…it’s a…but…I thought those things could only go 9 miles per hour…” Emily muttered to herself while sobbing and attempting to run towards the scene. She was of course halted once she crossed the threshold from the polka dot carpet onto the ice, and though it was an interesting struggle, she eventually made her way to the scene.

Her two friends lay there like ragdolls. At some point in the time it took her to get to the middle of the rink the Zamboni had stopped and the driver had gotten out to check on the women. 

“Are you with them? I-I-I-I am just so incredibly sorry. It appears they have no pulse, ma’am. Let me call 9-1-1.” 

Emily stood in the middle of the ice rink shaking uncontrollably and sobbing until the paramedics came and confirmed the passing of her friends. The Zamboni driver tried to console her by softly apologizing and placing a hand on her upper back but, shocked, Emily sat in silence.

Samuel soon arrived with two policewomen in tow, both of whom stood side by side looking down at Emily. 

“This is a crime scene. Everyone off the ice,” barked the brunette on the left. The blonde glanced angrily at the brunette, then smiled as she turned to face Emily, adding, “Sorry for your loss, ma’am. Would you please come with me to tell me what happened?” while extending her hand to help Emily up. “If Samuel would be so kind to escort you to the carpeted area, you can just wait for me at the picnic table,” she added with a smile.

The sly Zamboni driver pivoted toward the exit and the brunette immediately shook her head and exclaimed, “Not you, Mr. Zamboni. Samuel here tells us you were the driver. So stay put because I have a few questions for you.”

Arm in arm with Samuel, Emily slowly made her way off the ice as she heard the conversation fading, “It all started because I needed extra money to feed my ninth child. So I created my Tricked Out Zamboni channel on YouTube—which, by the way already has 2 million fans—” 

“Get to the point already!” the brunette interjected.

“…so after months of dedication I had finally gotten this fine specimen up to 65 mph! Unfortunately these two little old ladies decided to trespass just as I was taking it for a spin. I had no idea they were here. In fact, we don’t even open for another thirty-four minutes. Cheryl must’ve just lifted the gate moments prior so she could go get her morning coffee…”

While listening to Mr. Zamboni’s explanation, Emily was jolted by the thought of what Gertrude and Penelope’s passing really meant: no more having to wake up early and listen to them bicker, brag or complain—they’d seemed to be doing more of all three lately and she was just about at the end of her rope. Not to mention, they had never really been kind to her and they did spend a lot of time making her the butt of their jokes. Between her sniffles and cutting through two salty streams of tears, a smile formed on her face. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight in the distance of the policewomen cuffing Mr. Zamboni and the three of them approaching. Two male backup officers had now gotten to the scene and were promptly instructed to take Mr. Zamboni to the station. The female officers jotted down a witness statement from Emily and said they’d call her if they needed any follow-up information. 

Still shaken, though admittedly not exactly sad anymore, Emily was free to go. She stepped back out into the mall corridor, passing Aldo, Boscov’s, Express, Game Stop and making her way to the exit near JCPenney. She took a few moments to relax and collect her thoughts once she reached Beryl, her blue BMW convertible. She put the top down, cranked up the radio and headed home.

The next morning, to her relief, Emily puttered around the house in her pajamas and rainbow slippers, read The New York Times while sipping her coffee and munching on a toasted English muffin with butter, relishing the unforeseen me time her friends’ deaths had gifted her. Once she was finished, she got up from the table and plopped down in front of the TV. Commercials, commercials, commercials, on every channel. She got so sick of channel surfing that she stopped on a random one on ABC, catching the tail end of another ad for a new incontinence drug. What came next took her by surprise—three people in bright colored t-shirts racing down an aisle with shopping carts. 

“Could this be what I think it is?” she quietly asked herself. 

“Sunday, October 18, it’s a rrrrace against time, to grab the priciest items you can find…the return of the classic game show…” a voiceover purposefully shouted as if directly at Emily. 

She was instantly flooded with jumbled thoughts, images of her two friends’ scowling faces, the odd shopping cart-shaped Zamboni, the sisters’ limp bodies on the ice, and all those times she’d told her friends and relatives about her game show dream.

#supermarketsweep #gameshow #writing #fiction #humor