#your local baby lesbian telling you what she needs to hear just in case you need it too

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 1 "Pilot" & Ep 2 "Hell Week"(Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Something really bad happened.

Did you just get your period all over yourself?

This isn't my blood.

Who told you you could have a baby here tonight?

I'm sure I can walk if I can just get some Gatorade.

I don't care if you can walk.

How are we supposed to get you to the front door without everyone seeing you all gross and postpartum?

No one wants to see that at a party.

This is super embarrassing.

I didn't even know I was pregnant.

You guys, they're playing "Waterfalls."

Is that a baby? Amazing.

I am not missing "Waterfalls" for this. "Waterfalls" is my jam.

Give the baby some mojito to quiet it down.

How do you know she's dead?

These are my minions. I don't know their names. I don't want to know their names.

I have a colonic at 10

Life is a class system.

Oh, still a lot of puke to scrub.

Yeah, you have an amazing skill at telling people what they need to hear.

I'm sorry. Did I ask you to pull down my panties and blow a compliment up my butt?

I hate sororities, and I hate you.

First of all, I'm not a lesbian.

You see, out in the real world, people just don't talk that way to other people. It's not normal.

Well, that sure sounds suspicious.

No one forced that goat to get as drunk as it got.

Historically, short people are sneaky backstabbers, like Napoleon or Paul Shaffer.

I could actually handle that you're built like a Thai ladyboy, but what I can't stand is that you think you're my heir apparent.

Don't you want me to spray-tan you?

I would honestly rather not have you around.

The police still can't figure out who filled that tank with hydrochloric acid.

It's good enough for me, and the D.A., who, last I heard, considers the case closed.

What is that skirt?

Your organization might want to find a lawyer.

I'm a pretty smart cookie.

I would not get personal with me, sweetheart.

I don't fight fair.

I am sentimental.

Look, girls are vicious, okay?

I don't have any of my own memories.

Just like we planned. Three-second silent hug, and then you leave.

Ooh, somebody call CSI, because there was a murder scene in that bathroom.

Someone puked in the sink and I'm pretty sure I saw an actual ringworm climbing up the wall. I'm not afraid of anything, but that bathroom scared the crap out of me.

This is gonna be a year of infinite possibilities.

Hold this. It's too heavy.

You didn't knock!

Look at them. They're the dregs of society.

Each one of these gashes is worse than the next.

She smells like hot dog water, and probably sprained her neck giving blumpkins down at the local bowling alley.

Look, I'm not saying that all heterosexual sex is rape. I'm saying all heterosexual sex is gross, and that deep down, every woman knows this.

All that girl's after is a whole lot of bikini burger.

Hey, girl, can I just ask you, what's up with your outfit?

God knows what they're talking about, basic bitches.

What fresh hell is this?

I need you to stay popular, 'cause if you want to stay at the top of the list of the pieces of ass I'm getting, there's criteria. And the criteria is you got to be popular.

Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, because I'm getting really pissed off.

Stop fake crying.

Anyone you dated would be popular. I mean, they would be popular because they're dating you.

My ego, it's super strong, ok, but it's not strong enough that I can just go around dating garbage people.

Like, yes, I could find a random girl who wasn't popular, and, yes, if I started dating her she would then become popular.

But you said you loved me.

I do sort of love you.

I would love you a lot more if other people loved you, too.

Okay, I need you to leave because you're bumming me out

We're just trying to have a nice day hitting golf balls at hippies.

Pretty girls, like you and me.

That's why I'm gonna burn your face off.

Ugh! You burned the milk!

Next time, I get you fired, or worse.

Actually, I just want a regular coffee. Those white girl pumpkin spice lattes annoy me.

I like to think of myself, uh, as an investigative reporter.

I had to get a restraining order.

I tend to get a bit passionate about things.

Look, you intentionally led me on.

You kept acting like you liked me just so you could humiliate me.

Enter, ye who dare.

I love a creepy collage.

It's about kicking the living crap out of someone when they disrespect you.

I was just in your room, where I noticed you have a sizeable shrine with evil burning candles, photos of me with my face scratched out and pairs of my stolen panties.

How about I just drown you in it?

Well, of course she's dead! You just burned her face off!

You don't die from getting your face burned off.

There's a dead woman in your kitchen.

I'm going to the authorities.

That's not how I saw it. And my witnesses agree.

You're an awful person.

Who wants cocktails?

How did my life turn into this?

Have you seen the way girls dress on this campus?

I'm sitting in the same office I used to throw bricks into.

You're awful in bed. Are you aware?

I'm gonna take a pair of your panties.

I'm gonna barf on your face unless you get out of here.

Try to figure out who gave you such disgusting mommy issues.

You loaded a dead body into a freezer.

What are you proposing?

I want to help you with your exposé, secretly feed you info.

You need eyes on the inside.

I don't know what to do with the body.

Are you saying dead bodies don't turn you on?

You are so lame, you know that?

God, I love all that death stuff.

Show me the body.

Show me the dead body.

This blood oath will ensure solidarity among us. We are all related now.

I just Googled "blood oath" and this is what came up.

What does this oath even mean?

I just need you all to not say anything about what happened, and I figured a blood oath was cheaper than buying you all presents.

Wait, what about STDs?

Idiot, you don't get STDs from blood oaths.

You get STDs from dirty toilet seats and drinking the water in Mexico.

Um, "STD" stands for "sexually transmitted disease," which means that it's transmitted sexually.

When were you in Mexico?

You know what, forget the blood oath.

I can't stay silent!

I'm calling my mom, and I'm going home.

Okay, Pissy Spacek, you and I have a few differences we need to iron out.

I want you to be one of my minions.

It's the gateway to the top of the heap.

You put on a good front, but you're miserable.

Don't you think any of that has anything to do with the fact that you've created an atmosphere based solely on negativity and raw ambition?

Can we talk for real for a second, please?

I mean, you're so confident without being mean. What antidepressants are you on?

Don't you see that all that's happened isn't a crisis? It's an opportunity.

Yeah, no, I tried. See, I really tried. But all of this flowery, peace-on-Earth crap, it makes me want to puke.

You haven't even seen half of what I'm capable of!

Totally spit in your coffee, bitch.

I don't mean to be a contrarian, but I'm enjoying this.

Is that killer noises or am I hallucinating?

I'm gonna ask one more time, will you speak up?

What can you tell us about the murder?

There's an exodus right now.

The risks are real, but we need to close ranks.

I don't feel comfortable with a man protecting me. It's representative of the patriarchal, post-colonial culture that encourages violence against women.

We buy a pig and feed it the body. Pigs will eat anything.

Don't go skating on those poop lagoons, because if you fall in, you'll drown in the poop and come springtime, there'll be nothing left of your body.

Here's what you should do. Pulverize her teeth, burn off her fingerprints, and disfigure her face. Once her body is unrecognizable, we can create an incision on her inner thigh and drain out all of her bodily fluids. That'll give us more time to deconstruct the body.

Truly grinding down a body takes a lot of work. You need a really good food processor, and you run the risk of fouling the plumbing, which is why you should only do it if you know how to clear out meat and bones from a drain pipe.

I'm willing to help in any way possible.

You're obviously a psychopath and those ideas are insane!

Why are you trying to terrify us?

Can I call you Mom?

I feel so loved and protected by all of you.

Actually, it's a new pop culture trend where young women desperately in need of role models call other girls they look up to Mom.

I thought you'd be cool with it.

I mean, I did just give you several ways to dispose of a body.

Okay, fine. Just stop talking.

You are so friggin' creepy!

Someone just mowed off a deaf girl's head in our backyard.

I mean, as you can see, I'm not licensed to carry a sidearm.

Wait, so you don't have a gun?

I have pepper spray. And I have a walkie talkie that I can use to call the police, who do have guns.

What good are you?

Get the hell out of there. Run away, real fast.

Now, I would give you my number, but my cell phone is off right now.

If you want the place clean, maybe you shouldn't have burned the maid's face off.

Don't you wonder what's in there?

People have been whispering about that house for years, that it's haunted, that something really bad happened. I mean, there's no way there isn't some real-life story behind it, right?

I'm gonna have to break in.

I mean, I don't think anyone's gonna get killed in the 30 minutes we make out, right?

Can you stop talking?

You're kind of ruining whatever was good about it.

Please try to understand the situation I'm in.

I don't give a rat's ass about your job.

You know, I find good parenting incredibly attractive.

You're a snoopy little bugger.

Whose bloody clothes are those?

Supposedly, it was a super fun party.

We're all gonna pay for this.

I think it's all crap. Just a myth.

What happened to the baby?

Sometimes I picture myself like Derek Jeter, you know?

I'm gonna choke you out.

There's a serial killer on the loose.

Please don't say you want to choke me.

I'd love having sex with your corpse.

I'm sorry. This isn't working for me.

Well, I sort of am your boyfriend, and I'm protecting you by having sex with you.

No! I don't need a man to protect me.

How could I have wasted this much time?

Is my self-esteem really that low?

I'm sorry. I think we need to take a break.

I need you to leave right now!

You know, it would really help me feel better if I could just crawl into bed with you for a few minutes.

Are you gonna touch my wiener, or you gonna leave my wiener alone?

I'll leave your wiener alone.

Where are your hands?

He has a huge boner!

Why don't you go in there and ogle his big old boner?

Okay, uh, first of all, I'm not gonna go ogle his big old boner, because I'm not gay.

Look, I'm sorry everybody wants to have sex with me. Okay? I can't help that.

I'm hot. Everybody wants to get with this. Women, men, animals in the zoo, plants, probably.

You're gonna have to go right now, 'cause I am breaking up with you.

Excuse me, I broke up with you!

I regretted what I said, and I just wanted to come here and tell you that I am so sorry.

Well, I accept your apology. And now I'm breaking up with you.

Do you know why I'm breaking up with you?

You can't deal with how hot I am.

Sorry, I just broke up with you.

Can you please put some clothes on?

Um, they said, uh, I shouldn't be alone, you know, in case I fall asleep and die.

Can I just get you a robe or something though?

So you're saying I'm the killer?

Okay, this isn't about me thinking you're boyfriend material.

God, I was so gonna go to third base with you tonight, too.

What if we stapled their earlobes?

Private like the parts on a man you like putting in your mouth?

I want to publicly come out as gay on my own.

I mean, you guys have to accept everybody, right?

I actually think that's illegal.

I will come after you, do you understand that? I will destroy you.

I trust you'll consider my offer.

Name one bad thing that ever happened at a Best Buy parking lot.

You're just, like, super attractive.

Um, well, I was trying to be inconspicuous.

It's better than losing your life.

I have a thing for playlists.

Someone's got a poo belly.

Sweet Yeezus, I don't even know where to begin with you.

Bitch, I'm about to smack you so hard, your tampon's gonna pop out.

I heard screaming.

So you think the serial killer is still up there?

Upstairs to get the killer before he gets away!

You just said that you think the killer is up there, and that's where you want to go?

This is freakin' terrifying!

The killer is in the house! You hear me?

I need my damn inhaler.

What, am I supposed to be scared?

Don't even come out. We plan on getting drunk, and I don't want your bad attitude ruining it.

We're headed down to White Stallion to pick up some sluts, baby!

Yes, okay, I burned her slightly, but stop saying that I killed her.

That was a tragic accident.

I am a kind and devoted and loving friend to all.

I'm not some crazed psychopath.

Maybe you're the killer.

I will not be put on trial.

The truth is we don't know who the killer is, and, yes, I suppose it could be someone in this room.

You want to go first?

I banged, like, 50 chicks.

What took you so long?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #scream queens

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – VIRAL (S01E16)

                                            [keys clinking]

Matt Casey: Thanks, mom.

Nancy Casey: Matt…

Matt Casey: I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We can… talk then.

Nancy Casey: Oh, oh, oh, jeez.

Matt Casey: Mom, why are you hiding from your parole officer?

Nancy Casey: [sighs] I went out last night. If she tests me, I won’t

                        pass. Just please get rid of her

Matt Casey: [stammers]

                                    [sharp knocks at door]

Matt Casey: Ms. Kendrick.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): Hi, Matt. I’m here to check in on Nancy.

Matt Casey: Yeah, you just missed her. She’s out for a walk.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): I can wait.

Matt Casey: Um, my shift is about to start.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): Fine. Try later.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

                                            cutscene

Clarice: Leslie.

Leslie Shay: Ms. Larocque, so sorry. This is just how it is when I’m

                      on shift. My apologies.

Clarice: Um, look…

                                      [kissing sound]

Clarice: Daniel’s rejected her offer. He wants full custody.

Leslie Shay: I thought you said he’d take the deal.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): It was a good deal, but the father has a

                                        strong case.

Leslie Shay: Does he?

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): Let’s look at it from his lawyer’s

                                        perspective. We’ve got a switch-hitter

                                        who married a man, conceived a child

                                        with him, then left him, and took the

                                        child to go live with her former lesbian

                                        lover, a woman with a time-

                                        consuming and very hazardous

                                        occupation.

Leslie Shay: Oh, come on.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): I’m just looking for ways to normalise this

                                        scenario as much as possible.

Leslie Shay: Normalise?

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): For instance, you two shacking up with a

                                        skirt-chasing firefighter is not helping our

                                        cause.

Clarice: I-I was just trying to tell her how Kelly has been so helpful.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): Ladies, you want me to convince a judge

                                        that you’re serious about being a family?

                                        Then you need to get Clarice and this

                                        baby into a warm, loving, nurturing, and

                                        yes, normal home.

Clarice: [sighs]

Leslie Shay: Okay. We’ll get our own place.

                                 [station alert buzzes & blares]

                                  [siren wails and horn honks]

Chief Boden: (over radio) All companies be aware, we have a

                        lightweight truss construction heavy structure fire

Victim 1: I can’t get down the stairs. It’s too hot.

Chief Boden: All companies, third-floor rescue. Casey, get me two

                       ladders.

Matt Casey: Got it.

                                         [indistinct chatter]

Matt Casey: Keep it flowing. Herrmann, Mills, Cruz, up the second 

                      ladder

                      [grunts]

                      Gotcha.

Peter Mills: Come on, I got you, man. All right?

                    You’re doing good, man.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): [coughs]

Leslie Shay: That’s it sweetheart.

Peter Mills: Good job, man.

Victim 1 (Dad): [coughing]

Peter Mills: Okay?

Victim 1 (Dad): Yeah.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): What about Hudson? You have to get him.

Victim 1 (Man): The dog.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): Hudson! Hudson!

Matt Casey: Cruz!

Mouch: Stay put, Cruz.

Joe Cruz: Wait a minute! I can hear him.

                 Come here, boy!

Chief Boden: Cruz, get out of there!

Matt Casey: Cruz! Cruz!

Joe Cruz: [grunts]

                  Hudson!

                  Hudson!

                  Where are you, boy?

                                            [dog barking]

                                               [creaking]

                                            [dog barking]

Christopher Herrmann: Come here, come on.

Joe Cruz: Aah!

Matt Casey: (into radio) Man down! (over radio) Man down!

Mouch: I’m going.

                                    [Pass alarm beeping]                                                - title -

                                    [pass alarm beeping]

Matt Casey: Cruz, call out!

                     Cruz!

                                     [beeping continues]

Matt Casey: Hey, Cruz.

                     Cruz!

Mouch: You okay, buddy?

Joe Cruz: Uh, yeah, yeah, I think so.

Matt Casey: All right. We got to move.

Joe Cruz: [groans]

                                            [creaking]

                                   [indistinct shouting]

Matt Casey: Mouch!

Joe Cruz: Mouch! Mouch! Mouch!

Mouch: I’m okay.

Joe Cruz: Mouch!

Matt Casey: This way! Watch your feet!

Joe Cruz: Watch your feet! Gotcha!

                 Let’s go!

Mouch: [panting]

                                [indistinct background chatter]

Gabby Dawson: Mouch, you okay?

Mouch: Yeah.

Joe Cruz: Are you sure, man? Let ‘em check you out.

Mouch: I’m fine.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Casey, how about you? You all right?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: You got a second-degree burn here.

Chief Boden: Take him to the hospital.

Joe Cruz: It’s nothing, Chief.

Chief Boden: Take him to the hospital.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): You okay? Good boy.

Christopher Herrmann: Cruz is out of control.

                                                cutscene

                                           [dog growling]

                                        [back up beeping]

Kelly Severide: Hey, Whaley, any new updates on Renee?

Eric Whaley: She’s okay physically. They’re going to keep her on a

                       72-hour hold.

                       Psychiatric observation.

Kelly Severide: Did you talk to her?

Eric Whaley: She wouldn’t see me.

                      I, uh, I don’t know what to do.

                                              cutscene

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: How long are you going to freeze me out?

Matt Casey: I’m not freezing you out.

                     I gotta talk to Boden.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, sure.

Matt Casey: Cruz is still in the ER. He’s telling doctors he wants to

                      come back and finish his shift.

Chief Boden: Did you happen to notice if Cruz’s bunker gear had a

                       cape sewn into it?

Matt Casey: No, Chief. It definitely does not.

Chief Boden: Then please dissuade your man of the notion that he

                        is invincible.

Matt Casey: Sure.

Otis Zvonecek: (recording) And that’s how our fellow firefighter was

                           saved today.

                           56 hits in less than an hour. Just tell me this thing’s

                           not going to go viral.

Gabby Dawson: Glad to see Mouch’s near-death experience can

                            help drive traffic to your podcast.

Otis Zvonecek: The whole point of the podcast is to show people

                           what we really do.

Christopher Herrmann: You’re supposed to be looking up how-to

                                         videos on taping drywall.

Otis Zvonecek: All right.

Christopher Herrmann: We got to get back to fixing up the

                                         Bombadier, all right. We’re behind

                                         schedule.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, stop calling it the Bombadier. That name has

                            poisoned the well with the locals. We gotta…

                            re-christen it something else.

Otis Zvonecek: May I propose… Moustache Pete’s?

Gabby Dawson: No, you may not. We need something simple. 

                            A single,  evocative word like, uh, Solstice or

                            Perception or uh…

Otis Zvonecek: Pretentious? Or we could call it something fun like

                           Moustache Pete’s.

Christopher Herrmann: You can name it ‘out of business’ if we

                                         don’t get back on schedule.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay, okay, here we go. How to tape drywall, part 1

                           of… 15.

                           Gee, you know who I bet’s really good at drywall?

                           Casey. Too bad somebody got on his bad side by

                           fraternising with one Detective Voight.

Leslie Shay: Hey, uh, listen, I need…

Kelly Severide: Hey, have I thanked you lately for opening your trap

                           about Renee? Because she’s currently in a psych

                           ward.

Leslie Shay: Kelly, she needs help. How fun do you think this is for

                      her?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. What did you want to talk about?

                                 [station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61…

Leslie Shay: Tell you later.

(Over PA): Person down, Michigan and Upper Wacker.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

                                                   cutscene

Matt Casey: Hey, Christie.

                                               [door closes]

Matt Casey: I have a new proposal regarding mom. Give me a call

                     when you can. Bye.

                     Hey, Mouch. You okay?

Mouch: I came to you a while back, about Cruz… how there’s

              something off about him, and you told me to shut up.

Matt Casey: In so many words, I guess.

Mouch: So are you still in charge of our truck, or do I have to go

              around you and talk to Boden?

                                                cutscene

                                       [ambo door closes]

Gabby Dawson: Watching you and Kelly move back in and out of

                            that place is like watching a ping-pong match.

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] I know, I get it. I just hope he understands.

Lady 3 (Good Samaritan): I tried to get him to come inside a store,

                                            but he won’t move.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, it’s too cold for you to be out here, hun.

                            What’s your name?

Man 1: Mick.

Gabby Dawson: Mick, can you stand up?

                            You think you can walk over to that ambulance?

Leslie Shay: Come on, Mick.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, yeah. We got you.

                            Whoa, 70 over 50. What are you on?

Man 1 (Mick): [grunts]

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Okay, fine. It looks like you might be

                            suffering from exposure, so we’re going to get

                            you to the hospital, all right?

Man 1 (Mick): No.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: It’s nice and warm at the hospital, Mick. You’ll like it.

                      Lots of pretty nurses.

Man 1 (Mick): Prettier than you two?

Leslie Shay: Come on, be realistic.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Don’t worry about Severide. He’ll totally

                            understand why you need to move out.

Leslie Shay: I know, it’s just… after all the drama, it just sucks

                      having a lawyer make decisions about your living

                      situation.

                      Okay, Mick, just a little pinch.

Man 1 (Mick): [grunts]

Leslie Shay: Ahh! [pants]

                                          [curtains drawing]

ER Doctor: We’ll keep trying to convince him to consent to a blood

                    draw, but we can’t force him to. And unless he does,

                    we can only guess at what transmittable diseases he’s

                    carrying.

Gabby Dawson: And judging from this cocktail of antivirals, you

                            must think this guy’s a walking petri dish.

ER Doctor: Hep-B’s always a big risk. Also Hep-C. The interferon

                    therapy should protect you against those, but given the

                    tracks on his arms and symptoms, I think we need to 

                    treat you as though you’ve been exposed to HIV.

Leslie Shay: How soon can we test for HIV?

ER Doctor: Not for three months after exposure.

                    Here’s the first one.

Leslie Shay: [exhales]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you’re going to be fine. The statistics are way

                            in your favour.

Leslie Shay: I mean, it’s like Russian roulette. Large bore needle

                     filled with this guy’s blood. If he has the hiccups, I’m

                     going to catch ‘em.

                                                  cutscene

                                           [tv in background]

Peter Mills: Hey, uh, Lieutenant, I was hoping to ask you a question.

                    Um, I was looking at the list of up and coming classes

                    at the academy, and I’m… I’m trying to figure out which

                    ones to take to, if possible, make a move to Squad?

Kelly Severide: Let me eat my cornflakes first.

Peter Mills: Yeah. Yeah, sure.

Chief Boden: We can finish the exposure paperwork later.

                        Don’t worry, Shay, you’re getting the best care

                        available.

Leslie Shay: Thanks, Chief.

Kelly Severide: What’s wrong with her?

Gabby Dawson: Needle stick.

Mouch: Ugh. Was he sick?

Gabby Dawson: Yellow, track marks, and he didn’t agree to a blood

                            panel.

Peter Mills: You okay?

Gabby Dawson: I just want this shift to end. Casey hates me, now

                            my partner gets stuck.

Peter Mills: Casey?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, forget it. It’s fine.

Peter Mills: Screw him. He doesn’t understand you, it’s his problem.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Mills.

                                           cutscene

Leslie Shay: Even if it’s just Hep-C, it’s, you know, 80% of infections

                      are chronic, and um, I’d be on disability for months,

                      and if Daniel’s lawyer finds out… [lightly sobs]

Kelly Severide: You’re getting ahead of yourself.

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Kelly Severide: Wait for the test to come back.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

                      [sighs] Um… the lawyer said that living with you isn’t

                      normal  enough [voice breaking] So I have to move

                      out. I’m sorry.

Kelly Severide: You do whatever it takes to keep you, Clarice and

                           that baby together.

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Thanks.

                                              cutscene

                                      [tv in background]

Joe Cruz: Hey, Mouch.

Mouch: How’s the arm?

Joe Cruz: Burned but fine.

                 Hey, man, I wanted to thank you again.

Mouch: It’s in the job description, right?

Joe Cruz: Yeah.

                  Hey, also, I think I owe you an apology.

                  [sighs]

                                             cutscene

                                       [knocks on door]

                                           [door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I realise you may not understand why I went

                            to Voight. 

                            I didn’t have another choice, and it made all the

                            difference in Antonio’s case.

Matt Casey: He threatened me and my fiancé.

Gabby Dawson: He saved my brother, Casey.

                                           [knock on door]

Mouch: Cruz is back, in case you’re interested.

                                              [door closes]

Joe Cruz: I screwed up, Lieutenant. It won’t happen again, believe

                 me.

Matt Casey: I tried that once already. When you told me you could

                      live with your sins, that turned out to be a lie.

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant, you got to believe…

Matt Casey: This is not a conversation! If you’ve come to hate

                      yourself, if you’ve decided that you don’t deserve to

                      live, well, that’s your problem. Do you wanna stand

                      at the ceremony where we pin Mouch’s badge next

                      to Darden’s because he burned to death trying to

                      save someone who’s already dead inside? If your

                      badge isn’t on Boden’s desk by next shift, I’ll go to

                      the police about Flaco. It’ll mean the end of my

                      career too. But hey, I’ll pound nails for a living.

                      What I can’t do is stand by and watch you

                      endanger one more of my men.

                                               [somber music]

                                                   cutscene

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): The kitchen’s just being redone. New

                                               cabinets, new appliances, laundry 

                                               hook-ups are right over there.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

                      Um… school wise, uh, I know Wesley’s young, but…

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Oh, it’s never too early to think about

                                               that. We’re in the very desirable Bell

                                                elementary school district. But I

                                                have to be honest with you. I’ve

                                                got a lot of people interested in

                                                this unit.

Leslie Shay: Okay, can you just give us, like, a second?

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Sure.

Leslie Shay: Thank you.

Clarice: Uh, okay. Thank you.

              So the uh, the lawyer says that Daniel’s attorneys could find

              out about the needle stick during discovery.

Leslie Shay: Look, Daniel’s lawyer can say whatever he wants.

                      What that judge is going to see is a family ready to

                      provide Wesley with a warm and loving home… in

                      a very desirable school district.

Clarice: You’re right [chuckles lightly]

               I’m sorry.

               We’ll take it.

                                             cutscene

                                             [buzzer]

Kelly Severide: [sniffs]

Renee Whaley: [clears throat]

                          [scoffs]

                                         [door closes]

Renee Whaley: What, you expected a straitjacket?

                          Why are you here exactly?

Kelly Severide: Because your brother asked me to come.

Renee Whaley: Poor Eric. He thinks he’s finally cracked the puzzle 

                           that is Renee.

                           All this nonsense about me sleeping with Dean.

Kelly Severide: I’m not here to argue about that.

Renee Whaley: Oh, right, because as my life turned to ashes, you

                          just coasted on and forgot all about me.

Kelly Severide: You don’t know anything about my life.

Renee Whaley: [scoffs] I know that Kelly Severide is doing just fine.

                          We’re done. Take me back.

                          Open the door.

Kelly Severide: Renee.

                                         [keypad beeping]

                                               [buzzer]

                                            [door closes]

                                               cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: Dawson, you have absolutely no idea what you’re

                           doing, huh?

Gabby Dawson: What are you talking about?

Otis Zvonecek: Call Casey.

                           [sighs]

                                         [metal clanging]

                                    [wall plaster dropping]

Christopher Herrmann: What the hell?

                       [metal clangs & wall plaster dropping]

Otis Zvonecek: Whoa.

Christopher Herrmann: Stephanidies didn’t say anything about a

                                         safe.

Gabby Dawson: What do you think’s inside?

Christopher Herrmann: Nothing good. My luck don’t run that way.

                                              [metal clangs]

Otis Zvonecek: Well, let’s open it and find out. Worst-case scenario,

                           it’s empty.

Christopher Herrmann: What if it contains a decomposed head of

                                         some gangster that went missing in the

                                         ‘20s? Next thing you know, this bar gets

                                         wrapped in crime scene tape, and we

                                         can’t get back in here.

Otis Zvonecek: If there’s a mobster’s head in there, Moustache

                           Pete’s gonna be famous.

Gabby Dawson: We’re not calling it Moustache Pete’s.

Otis Zvonecek: Yes we are.

Christopher Herrmann: Forget it. That safe is bad news.

                                         Look out.

Gabby Dawson: Hey Herrmann!

                                                   cutscene

Matt Casey: Each week my shift moves up a day. Tuesday and

                      Friday this week, Monday and Thursday next

                      week. I’ve drawn up a list of house rules that

                      mom would have to agree to. Uh, curfews, when

                      she can have visitors. You can add whatever you

                      want to the list.

Christie: Matt, no.

Matt Casey: Christie, I need you. Please, at least on the days I’m on

                      shift.

Christie: Will I have to learn how to lie to her parole officer too?

                                         [chair slides back]

Christie: Mom.

Nancy Casey: Christie.

                        You look wonderful.

                        Wow, you realise this is the first time we’ve all been

                        together as a family in, like, 15 years?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: I guess the real purpose of this meeting is to [sniffs]

                        discuss the mom problem.

Christie: Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Jim.

Matt Casey: Okay. Now let’s eat.

                      The chicken sandwich is great, by the way.

Christie: I’m a vegan [clears throat]

Matt Casey: Since when?

Christie: [scoffs] Going on ten years, Matt.

Matt Casey: I did not know that. I… wow.

                     Is that like a vegetarian, or is it the eggs thing? You

                     can’t eat anything?

Christie: Oh my gosh.

Matt Casey: What?

Christie: Do I seriously have to explain this to you?

Matt Casey: What? No, that’s fine.

                                          cutscene

                                     [knock on door]

Kelly Severide: Hey, did you get my message?

Eric Whaley: Yeah. What did she say?

Kelly Severide: Nothing that matters. She’s angry.

Eric Whaley: At me?

Kelly Severide: At me. At… at… at everything.

                          Look, I-I’m sorry, but all this was against my better

                          judgement, and now she’s spinning out, so…

Eric Whaley: No, I get it. I get it. Thanks, Kelly.

                      This is, uh, it’s my last shift at 51. I’m glad we got the

                       chance to work together.

                                          [door shuts]

                                            cutscene

Mouch: Is Cruz gonna grace us with his presence today?

Matt Casey: I don’t know.

Mouch: You talk to him?

Matt Casey: I did.

Mouch: How’d that talk go?

Matt Casey: Don’t worry about it, Mouch. I talked to him. That’s all

                      you need to know.

                                      [locker door shuts]

                                              cutscene

Priest: “You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the

              coming wrath? Produce good fruit as evidence of your

              repentance. Even now, the axe lies at the root of the

              trees. Therefore, every tree, which does not bear good

              fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. I am

              baptising you with water for repentance, but the one

              who is coming after me is mightier than I. I am not

              worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptise you with

              the Holy Spirit and fire. And do not presume to say

              to yourselves, ‘we have Abraham as our father.’”

Child 1: Look, mom, a fireman.

Priest: “And raise up children to Abraham with these stones. Then

             Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be

             baptised by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, ‘I need

             to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me?’ Jesus

             said to him… [continues speaking in background]

                                            cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: I read the whole thing, front to back. There’s no

                           codicil in this deed about any safe.

Gabby Dawson: We bought the bar, lockstock, and barrel. That

                            means the safe rightly belongs to you, me and

                            Otis.

Otis Zvonecek: Along with whatever’s inside. Whether it’s an old

                          stamp  collection or bearer bonds or, gold

                          doubloons.

Gabby Dawson: You’re outvoted Herrmann, two to one.

Christopher Herrmann: We didn’t buy that bar hoping to find

                                        buried treasure. We bought it as an

                                        honest investment. And for the first

                                        time in my life, I feel like I’m onto

                                        something good and real. Now

                                        whatever is in that safe, somebody

                                        put it in there and locked it away for

                                        a reason. Why don’t we leave it alone

                                        and get on with our plan?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, we’re gonna open the safe.

Otis Zvonecek: Seconded.

                                   [station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25. Bomb squad

                  assist, Wrightwood and Jesse.

Dispatcher: (over radio) CPD be advised, divert all traffic. Bomb

                     disposal unit on site in Lincoln Square.

Peter Mills: So what exactly is our role in a bomb squad assist?

Christopher Herrmann: Nothing. Not unless the bomb tech snips

                                         the wrong wire.

Matt Casey: What’s the story, Chief?

Chief Boden: A tenant committed suicide in his car around back,

                       shot himself in the head. But the police are suspect

                       because the deceased was turned down four times

                       by the CPD, and there is a gasoline smell coming

                       from the inside.

Man 2 (Bomb Tech Squad Lt): Zoom in.

                                                   Our mast camera confirmed the

                                                   place is wired.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): We should cut our way in.

Kelly Severide: We have access to the apartment above?

                                         [whirring]

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): That’ll do it.

Kelly Severide: Great, we’ll get out of your way.

                             [indistinct radio chatter]

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Whoa. There’s a woman down there.

                                [suspenseful music]

Leslie Shay: The neighbour say it’s his ex-wife.

Man 2 (Bomb Tech Squad Lt): My guy will go in and see if it’s

                                                   secure and your guys can bring

                                                   her out.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Severide, you sure you want (over radio) to

                        do this?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) We’re here, right? (over radio) Gonna

                           need a jump bag, though.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Copy that.

Kelly Severide: All right. Okay.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Carpet’s wet. Gasoline.

                                   She’s been stabbed. Come on down.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Dawson, Shay, she’s got a steak knife

                          stuck in her abdomen.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) Pulse?

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Weak.

                          Hey, can you get us out that door?

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): There’s quick, and there’s safe. Which do you

                                   want?

Kelly Severide: I wanna save this woman’s life.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Huh.

Kelly Severide: Huh?”W-What huh?

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): A small incendiary device set to spark the

                                   gasoline. This’ll take a few minutes to

                                   disarm.

Kelly Severide: She doesn’t have a few minutes.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): I got two more wires splitting here. It’s wired

                                   here too. Headed… Here we go.

                                   I got at least 5 pounds of mixed ammonium

                                   nitrate. Well that plus the gasoline is a

                                   fertiliser bomb.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Hey, Chief, (over radio) is everyone

                           back?

Chief Boden: (into radio) You just get yourself down here, Kelly.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) How’s she doing, Severide?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Weaker.

Gabby Dawson: (over radio) How much blood’s on the floor?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Uh, it’s not that much.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) Then she’s bleeding internally. You

                            gotta move.

                            (over radio) Pack that knife, so it doesn’t shift when

                            you move her.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Where the hell’s that jump bag?

                           (into radio) Whaley’s here.

Gabby Dawson: (over radio) Use all the gauze and tape he’s got to 

                            keep it secure.

Eric Whaley: Someone’s always got it worse.

Kelly Severide: Ain’t that right.

                          (over radio) Packing around the knife. Hey, we need

                          that door open now.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): (over radio) Attempting to disarm the door.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Kelly. Kelly.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): (over radio) We’re good. Door’s open.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Woman’s coming out.

Eric Whaley: Who says engine only knows how to put out a fire?

                                                 cutscene

Matt Casey: Okay. I’ll talk to Boden.

                                                [door shuts]

Mouch: [sighs] What happened, Joe?

                                             [knocks on door]

Joe Cruz: I kicked in that door, convinced Leon was in there.

                 I even knew I was too late.

                 But it wasn’t Leon, it was Flaco.

Mouch: Dead. It was Flaco, and you were too late.

Joe Cruz: All I could think was, if I pulled him out of those flames, I

                  might as well throw Leon back in.

Mouch: Ah, you don’t know that.

Joe Cruz: I thought that God was just handing me the answer to my

                 problems.

                 But now I know it was the devil. I thought I could run from

                 him, non-stop. First one in, last one out [shaky breath]

                 And then I almost killed you. I could have killed Otis or

                 Herrmann or Casey, all because I’m weak [sobs]

                 But now I know… I’m the one that has to suffer, not you.

Mouch: Joe, I forgive you.

Joe Cruz: [sobbing] It’s not right for me to bring my sins into this

                 house and have my brothers sacrifice for what I did.

Mouch: Joe, listen to me. I forgive you.

Joe Cruz: [sobs]

                                      cutscene

Chief Boden: What can I do for you, Casey?

Mouch: Lieutenant! Can I have a minute?

Matt Casey: Now’s not a good time, Mouch.

Mouch: Yes, it is.

                                   [door closes]

Mouch: You don’t have to do this to him.

Matt Casey: There’s more to it that you know, Mouch.

Mouch: He told me everything. Now I don’t know if he was waiting

              for God or Flaco’s ghost or just somebody to say it, but

              he needed to know what he did was okay. He screwed

              up. He knows it. But he was taking care of his family.

              How far would you go for the ones you love? How far

              have you gone?

                                          [door closes]

                                             cutscene

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

                                         [phone rings]

Leslie Shay: Hello?

                      Yes, this is Leslie Shay.

                       He consented to a blood draw.

Gabby Dawson: That’s good isn’t it?

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm, mmhmm.

                      Okay, thank you.

                      He’s clean, he tested negative for everything [sigh of

                      relief]

                      Oh…

                                          [giggling]

                                          cutscene

                                           [buzzer]

                                        [door shuts]

Man 4 (Orderly): Good luck, Renee.

Renee Whaley: Yeah, thanks.

                           For real?

Kelly Severide: Come get in the car. There’s something we need to

                           see.

Renee Whaley: Go to hell.

Kelly Severide: You’ll full of it, you know that?

Renee Whaley: Oh I am, huh? Is that gonna get me into your car?

Kelly Severide: Ignore everything that’s real, go ahead.

Renee Whaley: Whatever.

Kelly Severide: Your brother was a hero today.

Renee Whaley: That is so low.

Kelly Severide: You stopped, didn’t you?

                           30 minutes. Then I take you anywhere you want to

                           go.

                                               cutscene

                                          [saw whirring]

                                        [metal clanging]

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] It’s just a box.

                            We never should have opened this.

                                        cutscene

                                   [car door shuts]

Matt Casey: Mom’s just getting her things.

Christie: Okay.

Matt Casey: Thanks for agreeing to this, Christie. I really think it’ll

                      work.

Christie: Yeah, well, tomorrow morning at 8:01, she’s all yours

                again.

Matt Casey: Understood.

Christie: Friend of yours?

Matt Casey: Nope

Nancy Casey: That’s Cheyenne.

Matt Casey: Your old cellmate?

Nancy Casey: Yeah.

                         You two gave me back my freedom, but I don’t want

                          to be your problem anymore. So I’m gonna go stay

                          with Cheyenne until I figure out what’s next.

Matt Casey: Mom, I don’t think your PO is going…

Nancy Casey: Aww, don’t worry I’ll sort things out with Kendrick.

                        But I’m not gonna be the wedge that drives you two

                        apart anymore.

                        Oh, be a brother and sister again, okay? You know,

                        be there for each other.

                        Hey, how’s it going?

Lady 5 (Cheyenne): Hi.

                                        [car door shuts]

                                            cutscene

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Are we gonna sign the lease or not?

Leslie Shay: Yes, we are. We definitely are, I’m sorry. I can’t get a

                       hold of her. Um…

                       Oh, hey.

Clarice: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Did you get my message?

Clarice: Yeah, that’s, uh… great news.

Leslie Shay: We should sign the lease.

Clarice: Uh, actually, would you mind giving us a second?

              So, um… Daniel offered to settle. You know, split custody, I

              mean, if I move to New York with the baby.

Leslie Shay: Good, that’s great. He blinked.

Clarice: I took the deal

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: I just, I can’t keep fighting him anymore, Les. So I’m gonna

              go to, uh, I’m gonna go to New York.

Leslie Shay: No, Clarice. Just stand up to him. We can win this.

Clarice: I’m leaving tonight.

              Shay…

                                           cutscene

                                    [engine rumbling]

Renee Whaley: Okay, I get it.

Kelly Severide: Come on.

                                  [car door shuts]

Renee Whaley: [scoffs]

                          [huffs]

Kelly Severide: It’s quieter than I remember.

Renee Whaley: Please don’t.

Kelly Severide: You’re the one who said life never looked simpler

                           than it did from right here.

Renee Whaley: Well, that was crap. Sometimes a view is just a

                           view. [exhales]

Kelly Severide: You know, I never had anything close to a real

                           relationship since you.

Renee Whaley: Really?

Kelly Severide: One girl I liked… really liked… but she left. Or I let

                          her leave. I should have made it work, but

                          sometimes, it’s easier just to let things fall apart.

Renee Whaley: I slept with Dean.

                          And now I see you, and I see my family. And all I can

                          see is what I lost.

Kelly Severide: Sometimes a view is just a view.

Renee Whaley: [chuckles]

                          [sniffles]

Kelly Severide: I’ve missed you.

Renee Whaley: I figured you hated me.

Kelly Severide: Oh I did.

                          But not anymore.

                                        [engine revving]

                                          [door closes]

                                        [car door closes]

                                          [engine starts]

                                                - end -

Definitions:

Skirt-chasing = A man with amorous intentions who habitually seeks our female companionship

Lightweight truss construction = Consists of top and bottom members that run parallel. These are referred to as chords and are made of wood. These chords are cross – connected for support by wood that forms a web like pattern. The wood members are connected together with a fastener made of stamped sheet metal containing spikes

Hep-B = Hepatitis B is an infection of the liver caused by a virus that’s spread through blood and body fluids. It often does not cause any obvious symptoms in adults, and typically passes in a few months without treatment. But in children, it often persists for years and may eventually cause serious liver damage

Hep-C = Hepatitis C is an infectious disease caused by the hepatitis C virus (HCV) that primarily affects the liver; it is a type of viral hepatitis. During the initial infection, people often have mild or no symptoms. Occasionally, a fever, dark urine, abdominal pain and yellow tinged skin occurs. Hepatitis C can usually be treated with antiviral medicines. These need to be taken for several weeks. You can catch Hepatitis C from contact with blood of an infected person, such as sharing needles. It’s very rare to catch it from having sex.

Interferon therapy = It is a possible treatment for a number of different types of cancer. It is also used to treat conditions other than cancer including Hepatitis B and Hepatitis C

HIV = Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) is a virus that damages the cells in your immune system and weakens your ability to fight everyday infections and disease. HIV can be transmitted from 1 person to another. There’s currently no cure for HIV, but there are very effective drug treatments that enable most people with the virus to live a long and healthy life.

Codicil = An addition or supplement that explains, modifies, or revokes a will or part of one.

Ammonium nitrate = Is a chemical compound with the chemical formula NH4NO3. It is a white crystalline solid consisting of ammonium and nitrate. It is highly soluble in water and hygroscopic as a solid, although it does not form hydrates. It is predominantly used in agriculture as a high-nitrogen fertiliser. Ammonium nitrate, which is used in fertilisers and bomb making, is a salt made from ammonium and nitric acid, and is highly explosive. The more ammonium nitrate, the bigger its explosive capacity. Once a reaction is sparked, ammonium nitrate explodes violently.

PO = Probation officer

#Chicago Fire #Chicago fire department #One Chicago #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire script #chihard #chihards #matt casey #jesse spencer #Leslie Shay #Lauren German #chief boden #wallace boden #eamonn walker #peter mills #Charlie Barnett #mouch #christian stolte #joe cruz #joe minoso #Christopher Herrmann #david eigenberg #gabby dawson #Gabriela Dawson #Monica Raymund #Kelly Severide #taylor kinney #otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek #Yuri Sardarov

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

#30 days of avengers one shots #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #reader #reader insert #portland #portland oregon #hipster #bar #karaoke #taylor swift #language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

[iamnotadamnedmonkey]

Duckmans Guide on how not to pick up women.

Hello there friends! Your friendly neighborhood Duckman here, with some advice on how NOT to approach women on the internet. I’m going to go through some common tactics I’ve seen in use, and talk about where we’re going wrong with this, mmmkay? Fair warning, I’m looking at this from a fairly heterosexual world view, because that’s what I mostly know.

REMINDER: There are ALWAYS exceptions to everything. This is just how not to offend the VAST MAJORITY of women. This list is not all inclusive, it only calls out behavior I’ve seen a bunch.

Penis Pictures- Oh my god, guys, men, friends, please for the love of god stop doing this. Unless somewhere on her profile it states ‘Please send me pictures of your penis as a way of introduction,’ she is NOT interested in opening up a new message to see your schlong. While opening up with the cock shot does reveal to her your intentions, it does not engage her interest. To be perfectly honest, most man pole looks the same as the others, and rarely is interesting enough to be the star of the show. Trust me friends, when you’ve flirted with a girl for a while, there may come a time when she asks to see the might of your manhood. Then, and only then, when she has verbally acknowledged a desire to see your meatstick, that’s when you whip it out.

Random Friend Request From Nowhere: All right guys, I know what it’s like. You’re on a cool site like Facebook, or fetlife, and you see a pretty face. You admire her pictures, you think you two could click, so you send her a friend request, right? WRONG. Let’s look at this from two aspects here-

Facebook-The majority of women on Facebook are not there looking for dates, or hook ups. The ones who are, are likely in groups that advocate that… and it’s still not okay to send them that random friend request. Facebook, as a platform, is generally best used to talk to people you already know, be it from real life interactions, or some other way online. People on facebook are looking to interact with friends and family, not Joe Schmoe who wants to tell them how pretty they are, or wonder if they’re interested in a quickie behind the local bus stop.

Fetlife: Here is where it gets hard (heh heh) for many men. After all, these women are not just posting cute selfies, but naked pictures of their bodies! They MUST be seeking friend with a virile, manly stud such as yourself! Sadly, that’s often a no. See, the wonderful thing about Fetlife is that, in addition to friending people, you can also read their profiles, where they put all sorts of wonderful things about themselves… including, quite often, whether or not they accept friend requests from strangers! So read those profiles, and, if it says they don’t, then don’t try!

Thinking something doesn’t apply to you: So, on a lot of dating sites, they give people space to write a profile. Many people put a lot of effort into these profiles. They will put in said profiles what they are looking for, and who should contact them. It may say things like “I’m a lesbian,” “Not looking for anyone over 50,” or “I’m asexual.” It is your responsibility, as the one reaching out, to read these profiles, and LISTEN to them. If you message a woman who has on her profile “I’m only here to tease people, don’t expect me to put out,” you can not then complain that she doesn’t put out.  It’s also SUPER bad manners to think you can change someones desires, just like that. Some of these distinctions and requests may seem weird to you, or may upset you because they exclude you:

Suck it up buttercup. No one is required to interact with you.

The state of their genitalia: This covers everything from “Are you wet right now?” To “Are you pre op or post op?” Until you are in a relationship with this person, it’s none of your business. Even then, it’s only your business if they make it so. Hey, Hello, hey there, yo, what’s up, how ya doing: All of these greetings are fine, if sometimes exasperating, for people you already know and are good friends with. For people you are trying to flirt with, or otherwise engage with…. It’s not going to get you anywhere. Even in those cases when someone replies, it goes like-

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Not much, You?”

“Not a lot.”

“Okay.”

And as we can plainly see, that gets you nowhere. Engage with these women you’re attempting to woo! Tell them WHY you’re messaging them. (We’ll get into some of the problematic whys further down.) Ask questions. If there is a profile? USE it. Maybe she mentions liking smooth jazz, and so you can ask her fi she’s ever been to a Kenny G concert, or if she talks about being a juggalette, maybe send her a picture of you with a bottle of faygo. (Do not include your naked junk in said picture. See first point.) Talk to her like a real person, ask about her interests, talk about your own, and what you’re seeking.

Hey Beautiful, Gorgeous, Baby, Darling, etc: Now this is one of those variable ones. For the most part, women are not okay with men they do not know appending labels to them. Once you get to know them, this can be a different story… But including it in a first message implies a familiarity that may not be welcome. Not just that, but, well, it’ so played out. Every guy thinks he can be special by telling a girl she’s pretty… So, as a result, a whole lot of girls have heard it all before and it just comes off as one more douchebag.

For the love of god, don’t lead with your fetishes: So, you’re looking for a girl to do naughty things to you. Or one you can do naughty things to. Good for you! You know who doesn’t want to hear it? The MAJORITY of women online. When you send a message that starts off with “You’d look so much better on your knees,” or “I have a 15 gallon drum of industrial strength lube, and a horse farm,” you’re going to scare most people off. Hell, even on fetish sites, you have to remember that not everyone shares your fetishes. Let’s use Fetlife again… The women there have profiles, and nice long lists of what kinks they have interest in. Many of them also have roles set up “Domme,” “Submissive,” “Babygirl,” which indicate what they are looking for. If you go to a lass who is labeled as dominant, and instruct her to get on your knees before you, you’re going to have a bad time.

So, 1) make sure your fetishes click. 2) Make sure she’s LOOKING for that. Generally, if someone is seeking, or romantically/sexually available on any such site, they will make it known. 3) Even if your fetishes do click, and she is looking, don’t assume she’s looking for you.  Sometimes, you’re just not what she wants.

Begging for pics: If she doesn’t know you, and has no reason to care about you, she’s not going to send you naked pictures of herself. Make a relationship/friendship first, and then see what she’s up for. Even then, don’t beg. Ask. If she says no, move on.

I’m a nice guy!:  If you have to tell people you are a nice guy, you sadly aren’t Sorry, yes it’s unfair, but it’s just the way it is. This also applies to ‘feminist,’ ‘not a racist,’ etc… the more you try to claim you are, the more clearly people think you aren’t.

Any references to age: Whether it’s “Oh, you don’t look that old!” or “You look like a minor, so I had to check,” there is no good (easy) way to reference age. While there are some good hard ways, it’s one of these advanced lessons in flirting that we aren’t covering here. Just leave age off the table.

Any references to weight: Okay, SERIOUSLY this is a huge minefield. You have no way to know ahead of time how someone feels about their weight. Especially don’t say things like “I really like bbw,” or “You’re very pretty for a big girl,’ or ‘I usually don’t like big girls, but you’re really pretty.” No, just, no.

Negging: Fuck this shit. Do not tear down women in the hopes of getting somewhere. This is a dick move, and do not do it. Period.

DON’T BE A DOUCHEBAG WHEN YOU ARE TURNED DOWN OR IGNORED!: I see this all the time.

“Hey, you’re beautiful, wanna hang out?”

“No, I have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck you you ugly whore, no one wants you anyways!”

Or

“Hey.

What’s up.

You there?

Wanna fuck?

Listen you bitch, the least you could do is tell me no. Yer a stupid etc etc etc.”

And that last one usually occurs in the span of 15 minutes! Guys, just because it says a girl is online, doesn’t mean she actually is paying attention! And if she doesn’t respond to you, there’s a reason! Elsa that shit, and let it go! For the love of god, there is no reason to insult a girl just because she’s not interested. There are billions of people on this planet. The vast majority of them are not interested in you… and that’s okay! Be the bigger man, tip your hat to her, and walk away. It’s ok, you won’t hurt yourself doing it, it doesn’t make you less of a man, just let it be.

Pushing: I mentioned it above, but I feel it needs its own. For the love of god, don’t keep pushing. If someone says “I have no interest in making you my toilet,” then, what they mean is “I have no interest in making you my toilet.” You can not turn a no into a yes by being annoying about it. In fact, all you do is make that no more intense.

Thinking you know better than her: We get told a lot in society that no means yes. That women don’t know their own mind. And, we see this reflected in mens approached to women. You get guys telling a girl they know her real place is underneath him, or being his baby girl, or that she’ll actually like sex with him, as opposed to all the other times she tried. A woman knows her own mind. Take what she says at face value. If she means something different, she’ll tell you.

Wrap up: So, in the end, how do you approach women on line?

Carefully.

Remember, you’re not the only one approaching them. There’s lots of guys out there seeking the same thing. You need to prove that you’re interesting, not a creep, and worth talking to. You need to show them you are personable, friendly, funny, charming, witty, clever... You know, all the things they are looking for.

You also need to go into any attempted encounter with the understanding that friendship is not taking second place. If you cultivate a friendship, you have someone you can talk to about stuff, hang out with, and you know, be friends. Men and women can be friends without sex in the way. And, here’s a tip, straight from the Ducks Bill: If you have female friends, real friends, people who know who you are, and know you’re not just friends with them in hopes of trying to get some from them, THEY WILL HELP YOU GET A GIRL. No, seriously, if they know you’re a real good guy, and not a Good Guy™ who is just pretending, they will introduce you to their single friends. Seriously, it works!

So, be a good person, get laid. End of Guide.

[anythingspossible-foraposs-blog1]

For any or all of them: Are you proud of where your child currently is?

Ahem, wow, now I gotta write all of them. 

Disclaimer: Some were taking this question more literally than others. I wrote it as sort of an interview question. If the parents are still together then they’re kind of in dialogue with one another.

*** marks deceased if ya’ll didn’t know the backstory

Kim (Dr. James Possible & Dr. Anne Possible)

James: Well of course we’re proud of our Kimmy Cub.

Anne: Why wouldn’t we be? She’s matured into a lovely young woman. Even though her need to help people worried us at first with all that jet setting off on school nights, Kimmy’s just always had such a large heart. Makes me think she’d join the family practice as a heart surgeon along with my brain surgeon expertise, a neurosurgeon can dream.

James: We’re proud of all of our children, even when they make mistakes. 

Anne: Like blowing up the oven right before Christmas dinner because--

Jim/Tim (from outside the frame): We said we were sorry!

Anne: And Kimmy doesn’t have to save the world to have us be proud of her

James: We’re just proud she’s following that path she really wants. I mean, would it be nice to have another Dr. Possible in the family? Yes. But titles don’t matter. Our Kimmy cub is enough to make any parent proud just being herself 

Amelia (Admiral James Smollet & Evelyn Smollet)

James: Captain’s always been her harshest critic, despite excelling in just about everything she’s put her mind to. I’ll always be proud of her, even when she thinks she’s embarassed me. No one could’ve predicted the tragedy that happened that day. It wasn’t her fault and it’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. Perhaps I’m even more proud of her for pulling herself away from her work here and working on healing elsewhere--

Evelyn: Well, it wouldn’t kill her to give us a ring now and again would it? How long can she hide out at Margaret’s, I mean, if she’s not working--

James: She started that coaching job with the University, Evie. 

Evelyn: Well, yes, but still, everyone’s always asking about her and I tire of constantly having to explain when she should be here herself. It’s just not right for her to lock herself away.

James: Well, the question was are we proud of her, Evie. Are you proud of her?

Evelyn: Well of course I am, she’s my daughter. Who else can tell everyone that you have a Naval Captain who fought pirates and lived? I mean, at first I was disappointed that she went into such a masculine field of work, felt I was losing a daughter and gaining a son.... but everyone else seemed to think it was noble and well, I turned around.

Stan (Charlie “Crush” Schell & Stephanie “Shred” Schell***)

Crush: Squirt? Little dude? He’s the craziest little thing, you know? Like one day you’re pickin’ this kid up off the sand and telling him not to eat it and the next day he’s off out in thee great big blue like following his dreams and exploring the world. Man, I’m just glad I didn’t screw him up, ya know? There were rough times after Steph passed. Late nights. More homework for me when he’d surpassed all the smarts I thought I had in my brain. He was teaching me stuff ya know? He’s the smartest kid. He’d run home from school, throw his little backpack across the room and pull out a book he got from the library on turtles just so he could show me what kind of turtle he saw that day on a trip to the aquarium. Little dude’s got it. He just does. He just keeps riding that current and shooting all the curls life’s been givin’ him and sometimes he wipes out. But yanno, he just accepts it, learns the move not to do and goes right back charging out into the waves. Kid’s got his mom’s passion and fearlessness. I see a lot of her in the little guy, shows me steered him right but she was the current all along. Crazy. He’s living his life and he knows it, ya know? And when he knows, I know that he knows and I know that him knowing is just, ya know? He’s Stan the man. Stanley, my real family. He’s everything I could’ve ever hoped to get. 

~~~

Steph: You know, the name Stanley was my choice. It was my father’s name before he passed. It’s why Charlie doesn’t use it too often, I think it hurts him more to say it than to say Squirt. My father didn’t exactly like Charlie for me, he wanted me to go out beyond Australia. See the world. Charlie was Australia. It was in his blood. We were two locals who fell in love with the ocean at the right time together. And thank whatever ocean god we did, because it gave us Stanley Rufus Schell. But I named him Stanley because like my father, I hoped he’d grow to see more for people. See more for himself. I saw just enough. Charlie was enough. My life on earth was enough to get them going, but my life could have been more than enough. So I’m proud that Stanley’s gone where he’s going, though I think he’s settled into an ‘enough’ spot in Swynlake for now. But he’s going to do great things, see great things, learn so much and follow his passion. And that’s all I can ever ask. I can’t take all the credit for him. Charlie did an amazing job despite everything. I’m proud of the both of them and I know that the three years I got with that now very tall baby of mine, was just enough

Tito (Julio de Tito & Gloria de Tito)

Julio: Man, I bet Ignacio’s the shit now, he ain’t messin’ up like I did. You know, I always wanted to own my own car business or whatever. Go straight, get outta here one day. But there ain’t that type of capital out there, not by legal means for somebody like me. My record ain’t gonna get me shit out there after this. But that kid knew how to do just about anything. Proud of him the day he was born, minute he zapped my finger and I just thought it was static. Learned fast, drove fast for an eleven year old. Sure, Rico was smart as hell, he’s gonna be a fuckin’ doctor or somethin’, but Ignacio? That kid’s gonna get himself some place, wherever he is.

~~~~~

Gloria: My son? You mean Rico?--Oh Ignacio. Well, I haven’t seen Ignacio in a long time. Looking back at things though, I do regret what I said that day. I regret a lot of things, but he made it clear he didn’t want to be found after the first year. He talks to his sisters once or twice a year, updates them. I hear he’s doing well, it’s all I can really take without bustin’ out into tears, ya know? But I’m proud he’s stuck it out on his own for this long. Whatever he’s doing for himself.

Hermes (Henry Petros Sr. & Gia Rossi)

Gia: Proud? Proud my son, after how hard I worked to put him through the best education California could offer, turned into a postal worker/drag queen entertainer who hasn’t picked up a phone to call his poor mother who’s bored herself to death rotting in a correctional facility for the last decade? No can’t say I am. I can only say I’m glad his good for nothing manwhore of a father that I divorced hasn’t been a prevailing influence on his life

~~~~~~

Henry: Well, I always knew my son was a little different and what I saw in him, I saw in myself. Our little Henry inspired me to not be so afraid of what people thought and still does. He hasn’t talked to me since I moved to San Fransisco with Joseph after the fall out with his mother being sent to prison. Which if you ask me, isn’t actually a prison with her Martha Steward knock-off cell. In any case, I am proud of him for who he is. No matter what he’s done in life or what name he takes on, I just couldn’t take care of a kid while I was still finding myself.

Megara (Lukas Creon & Maria Creon)

Maria: Well, you know she was engaged to that nice professor fellow and then one day that’s over and she’s leaving town. We haven’t heard from her in well, how long was it--?

Lukas: 3 years, give or take

Maria: --Right three long years at the least, we don’t know where she is right now, haven’t a damn clue. So we couldn’t tell you anything about pride ‘cause she won’t pick up the phone and call us. 

Arista (Ya’ll knoow JEFF and Athena and pft they’re probs proud despite her dropping out to follow her passion more w/e)

Bobby (Robert “Bert” Zimmeruski Sr. & Roberta “Bobbi” Zimmeruski)

Bert: Which kid are we talking about? Robby or Bobby? I get them mixed up all the time

Bobbi: Yeah, hard to tell. Maybe we shouldn’t have named them the same name...

Bert: Nah, it’s still funny

Bobbi: Yeah, yeah it is. Haha, anyways uh Robby is the one in... Spain? Lesbian? 

Bert: Whoa, wait, he lives in Lesbian, Spain?

Bobbi: No wait, is that Bobby? 

Bert (still laughing at Lesbian because they’re totally stoned)

Bobbi: One second, I have it on my phone notes.... Lisbon, Portugal. Eh, same difference...

Bert: Yeah but is that the right kid?

Bobbi: Who knows, who cares. At least they both send money. We’re proud of them both with whatever they’re doing. Two mellow fellows we raised, earning money and helping out their parents

Bert: You right, you right. You gonna light that or should I?

Rosie (N/A my dudes, orphaned in Bulgaria)

#fuck me up #Anonymous

[hannahswanviscom]

A facebook account of infertility

https://www.herfamily.ie/pregnancy/couples-heartbreaking-infertility-story-made-us-cry-243738

“Do you have a minute? I’ve got kind of a long story.

Leah and I have been trying to get pregnant for over 3 years. I’m not sure when, exactly, we stopped the birth control. Like all our plans, we didn’t start with a plan, but instead decided that if we got pregnant, that would be great.

And then we didn’t get pregnant.

I mean, look, when you’re in your twenties, it feels like you can’t look at someone else without getting pregnant. We’ve all heard about someone who got pregnant through 2 condoms, spermicidal lubricant, and an IUD. Right? But we didn’t get pregnant. No big deal.

We’re in our 30s. Things are probably a little bit dusty, and a little bit rusty. So, three years ago, we started using apps and calendars to track this and that. Ovulation test sticks. Old wives’ tales of positions and timing. We got some late periods. And some periods that never came!

But we didn’t get pregnant.”

So, off to the doctor we went. His and hers appointments for collections of blood and semen and measuring parts and such. Medical science being what it is, we got the answer to all our problems: ‘You’re fine, and there shouldn’t be a problem.’

Do doctors ever tell anybody, ‘This is what is wrong, and this is how to fix it,’ and then give them pills, and they’re fine? This is not my experience.

We didn’t get pregnant.

So then came the hormones for Leah. Along with those hormones came the realization that little-to-none of this would be covered by insurance, and that the coverage rate would go down as we went deeper into the process. See, insurance companies look at getting pregnant a lot like getting sick. Why, they can’t imagine, would you try to get sick? Well, f**k you, insurance companies. That’s why.

But we didn’t get pregnant.

So maybe we’re bad at timing, or something, or god knows. Usually that’s fine, but we are in our late 30s, and clocks are ticking. The doctor told us that certain hormone levels were low, lower than they should have been, and that meant our egg supply was dwindling.”

Let me tell you something. There is nothing you can tell a woman that will make her feel more young, beautiful and vibrant than, ‘You have a dwindling egg supply, and it is time to pick up the pace.’  You should try it. Maybe at a bar.

And that was when we began IUI, intrauterine insemination. IUI is – colloquially – the turkey baster method. When they told us about it, I tried to really hear what the doctor was saying, but all I could hear echoing around the room, off of the oyster-y pearlescent floors and the alien-vagina wallpaper, was ‘dwindling.’

For Leah, we eventually figured out, this meant a regimen of hormone boosters to facilitate egg production. Are you aware of what happens to people when their hormones go out of the norm? They are not happy. Unless they are happy, in which case, they are very happy. There is no mild. There is no average day. Her job was to feel like her brain and soul were on fire.

My job was to try and not say anything dumb, because she also needed to be calm. I tried to avoid triggering phrases like ‘Hey,’ or ‘Good morning,’ or ‘I love you,’ but I kept f**king up, and opening my mouth, or allowing Leah to see TV programs, or commercials, to read books, and interact with the world in any way.”

“The best was when someone would ask her when we were going to have kids. That was just the best.

Then, after one or two ultrasounds to make sure eggs were there, and in their right places on their little follicles, I would give my needle-phobic wife a shot in her thigh to set ovulation in process. She says she’s not so much afraid of needles as she is afraid of being stuck by me with a needle, but same difference, right?

Over time, I developed a method where she would look away, close her eyes and cry, while crushing all the bones in my left hand, and I would count to three, and inject her with my right. I wouldn’t inject her on three. I tried to pick a random time. She usually didn’t even feel it.

After all that romance, you would think that abstaining from sex for a few days would be hard, but you would be wrong. You might also think we should be having massive amounts of sex, but it turns out that you have to let your seminal stash build up for a few days before collection.”

“Over the last couple years, I became pretty professional about my sperm deposits. My first one was a few paragraphs up, for testing. Man, is it ever weird. You can do it at home if you want, but then you are under a clock to get your sample to the lab on time. I don’t need that kind of stress.

I don’t talk about it much, but I like to think I’m pretty good at taking care of business in the art of sperm production, but I had never entered a room designed specifically for masturbation, while people waited outside, hoping my masturbation went okay. Perhaps that is what Eddie Murphy’s life was like in Coming to America, but I was less familiar with it.

The room was like a combination of a hotel room and an office. It had a big picture of The Ohio State University football stadium, filled with fans, on the wall over a small vinyl sofa. There was a neatly folded sheet, fresh and crisp, hanging on the far armrest. A clock radio on the side table, tuned to local political talk radio, sputtering away beneath a low-lit lamp, was paired with a little wooden cube that had one tiny drawer, specifically made for storing your collection cup.

Under the table were four or five magazines that I didn’t really want to touch. Usually two Playboys, a Penthouse, and a Swimsuit Issue. Across from the couch was a TV/DVD combo with a DVD preloaded. I didn’t want to touch the remote either, really. It sat on a wicker chest.

Wicker struck me as the worst possible material for a room designed for male masturbation. Everybody’s aiming for the cup, I know, but I also know there have been enough accidents in that office that it required a laminated sign about what to do in case of an accident.”

“The first step, in case of an accident, is to not try to hide it by scraping your mess into the cup. Big no-no. This makes your sample corrupt, which may mean that your partner could end up being impregnated by carpet fibers if I understand correctly, but it is also unsanitary.

The second step is to tell the front desk staff that you had an accident, which seems horrific. The people who work at the lab are people who, by my calculations, deal with upwards of 80 men per day who have just masturbated, or are about to, and their sperm. Sure. They are professional.

But, still, everyone is a little bit tittery, a little bit anxious. We all know that this is all very silly, and that I just touched my penis, and you are someone’s grandmother, and that even though you have a pin in the shape of a little sperm fella to help break the tension, we all – if we really had the choice – would probably prefer to burst into flames than discuss any part of this, let alone the fact that someone missed. Whoops!

The DVD would change over time, but still be of the same variety. Usually some kind of early 90s Eurotrash boat fantasies, or oily faux-lesbian scissorhands scenes, starring fingernails that made me very nervous. I would check every time I went in, and it was always awful. Everybody’s got their thing, I guess. My thing is that I am thankful for the Internet.

Oh. And you are supposed to go in dry if you can help it. Lubrication, as it turns out, can mess with the quality of the semen, which seems like a pretty big jerk move on the part of lubrication.

But, yeah, I’ve got my routine down.

When your sample has been washed and spun, or whatever it is they do with it, they put it in a paper bag that you carry over to the doctor’s office for the procedure. We long-timers can always tell the new couples. Their discomfort and optimism is cute. They smile and look around on their walk, hoping no one notices the bag they have pinched in their fingertips.

Me, I carry my paper bag like a sack lunch. The same turkey sandwich I’ve had every day for years. With hope, yes, but the skepticism of routine. The IUI itself is pretty quick, and from what I understand, painless, if not the normal amount of demeaning of going to an OB/GYN. You get one more ultrasound to make sure everything is in place, and then they pour the gravy all over the giblets.

Sorry. I know. I’m hung up on turkey metaphors.

And then we wait.”

“You’re warned against taking pregnancy tests because they measure hormone levels, and after taking all sorts of weird shit all month, you can trigger a false positive. So you wait. And there will be spotting. Is it spotting, or is her period starting? You don’t know. So you wait. And you wait. And you wait.

And sometimes her period comes, and you start over. Step one. And sometimes it doesn’t come. But the second line doesn’t appear, or the plus, or the whatever these tests do. So you wait. And it’s negative, but you hope, and you see your friends getting pregnant, and you get a little sad. But you get mad at yourself because you want to feel happy for other people, and that’s not fair to them. And then the 17-year-old across the street gets pregnant, and you get a little sadder. And your cousins get pregnant, and you get a little sadder.

And you see people scream at their kids, and beat them in Kroger, and you just want to die because you would give anything to have a child throwing a tantrum in the cereal aisle.

You don’t want to hate people. You don’t. I think babies are beautiful. I think kids are awesome, but you can’t help the jealousy. The envy. The resentment. It really creeps up on you. And you search for positive things. And you talk on end about your capital-O Options.”

“And then you see people on the internet post screeds about how dare anyone assume that they would want to have kids because not having kids is the best – which is fine, have at it or don’t have at it, I really don’t care – but we want to be procreating, and we want what you could have, but are choosing not to use.

And we want to tell you, but people don’t talk about it. Because you don’t want to talk about it.

Because you spend all day thinking about it, managing it. Trying not to cry. Trying to not turn into HI and Ed from Raising Arizona, stealing babies in the night.

And the doctors start talking about Next Steps, and the Next Steps are very expensive, so you try it one more time. And then, while you’re in Kansas on a road trip with a friend, your wife does the IUI with a frozen deposit you left behind.

And you get pregnant.”

“You go in for a blood test, two weeks later, and they tell you that you’re pregnant. And you cry. Big fat tears of relief. And then you freak out because, to be honest, you talked yourself out of real hope months and months ago, but now you have to get ready for a baby.

Some weeks later, you go in for an ultrasound, and there it is. I mean, yeah, it’s a tadpole with a giant head. There’s its brain, and there’s its heart fluttering away, and it’s so real.

And you relax.”

“We’re in our late thirties, which means that the chances are higher than average that a pregnancy won’t be viable, or there will be a chromosomal abnormality, or something along those lines. We spent a lot of time tiptoeing around that idea, but we talked about it. And about not getting too excited. You know, the higher you let your hopes up, the further they have to fall. But they told us to relax. Everything looked great and we were on track, so when we went in for one final scan before being released to our obstetrician a couple weeks later, we were all smiles and jokes.

‘I’m so sorry. I can’t find the heartbeat.’ …

And then you’re not pregnant.”

“I’ve felt time stop before. Car accidents, falling off a fence, a mountain bike jump gone wrong. I have not felt the vertigo of infinity like when we were told our baby was dead. I’m logical. I understand science and biology. I know it was a fetus, not a baby. But it was my baby. In my head, in my heart, I could already imagine being old as it grew into an adult and had its own children, and – woosh – it was all gone.

As I write this, the due date is a little over a week away, like a car accident on the road ahead that you’re trying not to look at, that you have to drive by. The world isn’t going to stop. We all get up and go to work. Because it happens. People lose babies all the time.

Miscarriage.

But no one talks about it. No one gets on Facebook and tells their friends. It’s specifically why you wait to tell anyone.

But then you have no one to tell. When a family member dies, you can share your grief. With a miscarriage, you would have to tell people that someone who will never be born, who they had never heard of and will never meet, but who meant the world to you, is gone. And you don’t have the strength to get into it. You tell your parents, maybe a close friend, maybe your boss. I was so stunned when it happened that I texted my boss that I wouldn’t be back that day, but that I’d be back the next, which really cracks me up now. I didn’t even get how I was about to be affected.

Leah was scheduled for a D&C, dilation and curettage, under general anesthesia at Christ Hospital right away, so she wouldn’t have to go through the trauma of slowly passing the fetal tissue over the course of a week. It wasn’t until they took her back that I let myself break down. Alone with my worst thoughts and the sour coffee of the waiting room for several hours. God, I have no idea how long. One more forever.

The people at the hospital were excellent. We got a lot of information about support groups that we never went to, but we should have. We just wanted to hide. I’m thankful for our families and our friends, who came to sit with us. Who brought Lea the things she needed, and let me get out of the house to walk around the neighborhood. I must have looked like a zombie.”

“It’s very difficult to think about, even now. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of describing it. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t think it was until around the New Year that I went a day without crying about it.

But, you know, you pass the car accident and it’s in the rear view, getting further away, and sometimes you don’t even see it anymore. Maybe you’ve told yourself enough times that “at least we know we can get pregnant” and “this just means that something was wrong and it’s a good thing.” Maybe you even believe it.

Just to let you know how strong Leah is, she still made the Dean’s List that semester, and she was carrying 18 credit hours. I dropped out of college for the dumbest reasons in my time – once because I got mugged – but she persevered. Like Britney, bitch.

We started back at the fertility process too soon, in a dumb burst of optimism and courage, and the desire to move forward. The hormone treatments were too much for Leah. And the lack of success was too much for the both of us. So we stopped. Our doctor told me, privately, that we need to take care of ourselves, but that, if we want to have a baby, we either need to move forward now, or start discussing Next Steps.

Remember: Dwindling.”

“We tried a couple more times, one of which felt good – we thought we had it – and were told that if this one doesn’t take, that we would need to increase hormone treatments substantially and begin planning for options outside of IUI. In Vitro, surrogacy, or something else.

The doctor also told us, during one IUI, that while Donald Trump scares him, his wife loves Trump because of the Mexican wall thing. They are both immigrants. His problem with the wall was that it would be impossible to pay for it. I don’t know. Doctors tell you some crazy shit while they’re inseminating your wife.

Through this process, and through both of our lives, neither of us have ever had a home pregnancy test come out positive. Even when we were pregnant before, it was the doctor who did a test. This last one, Leah couldn’t bear to look at it herself, so I looked at it while she was in the shower, and told her no, that it was negative.

While she stood there, crying, I googled ‘pregnancy test faint line.’ As it turns out, even the faintest f**king line in the whole f**king world means you’re pregnant. So we’re pregnant.

We’re pregnant.”

“Not that we believed it at first, but we are. Three scans later, I’ve even heard the heartbeat, like a hummingbird, and it’s beautiful.

As I write this, tomorrow is our first obstetrician appointment, and we’re so nervous. So, so nervous. I wouldn’t dare to post this until we’re in the clear enough, and ready to tell people. Almost no one knows right now. We’re worried to jinx it, us, we, who don’t believe in jinxes. Mostly, we’re afraid of going back through the pain. To have to retract it, publicly, is too much to think about.

I know plenty of people have gone through more than us. We are comparatively very lucky. Some people have never gotten pregnant. Some people could not go as far as us. Some people have taken many Next Steps beyond where we were. Some have been successful, but many haven’t. I hesitate to share this because I don’t want anyone to read this and feel what we felt, watching others’ dreams come true. Some people have found out, or have guessed, and have been very kind to share their own stories with us, and it has helped tremendously to not feel alone. Many thanks to all of them. I hope that maybe this helps someone else feel less alone.

And I hope that everything goes well, and I can inundate you with pictures, starting in November. …

Everything went well. Arms and legs and moving around. We’re very excited, but I’ll be holding my breath for 26ish weeks. And it’s a girl. Not that gender matters! But we’re going to have a little girl! And I am stoked. We are stoked.

We are pregnant.”

[shootingsharp]

It's eight o'clock in the evening and you're sitting on the floor with a writing journal in front of your crossed legs and the couch your father is sitting on at your back. A half-written essay decorates the page you're open on. The Catcher in the Rye wasn't even a boring book, but this is your third attempt at writing an essay on it, and you're beginning to lose focus. On your knee is a scabbed-over war-wound from your fight with Tommy Young on the bank of Morrison Creek and you start to idly pick at it as you stare blankly at the page in front of you. Your father thumps your thigh with his foot to get you to stop and makes a point frowning at the lack of progress you've made in the essay, so you scowl right back at him.

He shakes his head and turns back to his newspaper with the kind of resignation you've come to recognise as him subtly washing his hands of you. If only he'd just do it for good, and you might not have had to sit here four days before Christmas, writing an essay instead of paying Tommy back for the bruise on your left arm. He turns the page in his paper, and your attention is pulled to the headline on the front. EVERY HOUR HELPS AIDS VICTIM COPE STATE WORKERS GIVE UP VACATIONS TO KEEP STRICKEN COLLEAGUE ON PAYROLL it shouts, and your stomach flips. Seems like the last few years there hasn't been a headline on the Sacbee that doesn't talk about AIDS. It makes you nervous.

"I like seeing good news."

You don’t realise how long you'd been staring at the front page till mom almost makes you jump out of your skin. Your eyes snap to her, and she's smiling. She told you about a man at her work who passed away from AIDS last year, and you'll never forget how her eyes had glistened with tears then. Jonathon hadn't been a close friend of hers, but it made the whole thing so much closer than a headline in a local newspaper. She had been reading a book before looking at you, and you spot it lying closed on the arm of her chair, bookmark on top. You frown at it. A few hours ago, she was only halfway through that one. If only you could devour novels as quickly. You swallow, and her smile falls away into a frown.

"Jill? Are you alright?"

You nod furiously, but your lips are pressed tightly shut. You were seven when you first heard the term 'gay plague', but you didn't really understand it then, nor think about it twice. Back then it was just a game. In the school playground, a boy would lick his finger and touch your arm and start the resounding chant of the words until you managed to chase him down and touch his arm with your own licked finger. Then he was it, and had to chase you back or find someone else to chase. You were fast, so they never came back to you. You still don't understand it much beyond knowing it's much more serious than a childhood game. You can feel your throat start to convulse and your upper lip start to sweat, and somewhere behind you you can hear a crinkle of paper. Your father is looking at you, and you can feel his frown burning into the back of your head.

You retch.

"Guillaume--"

Before you can think you're being hauled off the floor. You feel as light as the air you suck into your lungs. Sweat clings to your back and is smeared against your skin as you're pushed up against the kitchen sink. Your father holds you there, one arm across your chest and the other holding your hair back. You retch again, but this time it isn't dry. Damp fingers you aren't sure are your own cling limply to the edge of the cold sink, and you hear him curse in French as vomit tips his favourite mug. It feels like ten minutes before the retching stops, but you can't really see anymore. There's sweat and tears in your eyes and blinking just makes everything go black.

When you wake it's to vague memories of having your face washed and being carried over to the couch. Your body feels weak but your eyes have never seen clearer, like a paralytic with their face pressed to a window on a bright summer's day. Your mother is standing a few feet in front of you. There's a heap of laundry to her right, and ironing board in front of her, and a neatly folded pile to her left. That's your fault, you note. She always cleans when she's worried. You can hear the sound of piano keys somewhere in the background, but your hearing hasn't caught up with your sight quite yet.

"Mama," you croak. Your throat feels raw and burns with the single word, and your hand fumbles on the floor for the glass of water you're sure will be there. Warm fingers clasp around yours and help you lift the glass to your mouth. It feels good, and when you're done blinking as you gulp the liquid back, you see your mother kneeling in front of the couch with a gentle smile on her face. She swipes your fringe from your forehead, and you smile weakly back at her as you move to sit up. Your writing journal isn't on the floor by the couch anymore, you note. Looks like you got out of writing the essay after all.

"You feeling better baby?" She murmurs, hushed. Your father effortlessly transitions from Clemente to Beethoven, your favourite. You nod softly, and your fingers fidget with the glass in your hand. It grows warm under your touch, and you start to wonder if you could break it between your thumbs and index fingers if you hadn't just woken up from sickness-induced unconsciousness.

"Mama, I have something to tell you."

Enough, you think. You've been sitting on this long enough. You don't have to look at her face to sense the immediate worry. It's there in the way her hand clenches on the couch, the way her shoulders tense up and her lips thin. She's still smiling, though. You hope one day you'll be half as strong as her.

You hesitate, and she taps your knee.

"What's wrong, Jill? Stop chewing your lip."

Her hand lifts to your chin and her thumb pulls your lip from between your teeth. You hadn't noticed the tang of blood. It makes your throat want to retch again, but you fill it with another kind of sickness instead.

"I'm gay, mama."

The piano stops.

Your mother blinks at you, and her hand releases the couch. For a moment you think she's going to pull away from you in disgust like you've seen people do on the street to the man who works in the local store and wears a loud rainbow-coloured shirt. She pauses, and blinks again.

"What, baby?"

You swallow. Your throat is burning again.

"I'm a lesbian."

Her lips part in an 'o' shape, and you hear the swipe of your father's corduroy against the leather piano stool. You don't look in his direction, you can't, just in case you see that frown of subtle resignation again. This time it would mean so much more than losing the dream of having a straight A student for an only child. You stare at your mother's eyes instead. You can see them glossing over, and tears welling in the corners like they did when she told you about Jonathon. You can read her like the book that's still sitting on the arm of her beat up old armchair. You can see the words that dance in her mind, chanted by seven year olds in a school playground.

Gay plague. Gay plague. Gay plague.

"Mama?"

You need her to say something. Your hands would be trembling were they not white-knuckled with the force you grip the glass in, and you can feel that nausea welling up in the pit of your stomach again. The piano stool creaks, and you watch your mother's eyes follow your father's movement across the room. You see half a conversation in her eyes, but it's impossible to interpret without daring to turn around and see his face. Your mother still hasn't moved. And she doesn't, not until a heavy hand rests on your shoulder. You're so surprised by the unexpected touch that your head whips around, and you finally see your father's face. It's too silent, and you kind of wish he hadn't heard and had just kept playing number eight.

He's not smiling, but he squeezes your shoulder.

"Oh, Jill..." Mama whips her arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You feel like crying, but she's doing enough of that for you, sobbing into your free shoulder like you're the handkerchief she's planning to take to your funeral. It's like you've been diagnosed already and given a week to live, and that your mother feels so little hope for you feels worse than the prospect of having stones thrown at you by your classmates, like Keith gets for having a lisp and wearing tank tops for physical ed. It's terrifying enough, and you need her to believe in you more than you need her fretting.

"Julia."

The depth of of his voice and the twinge of his accent is grounding, and you can tell your mother feels it too. You both look up, and this time he is frowning. His hand is still on your shoulder though, and it's starting to feel warm more than it felt heavy.

"She's gay, not dead. She was sick because she was nervous. Right, Jill?"

Your mother looks at you, and you nod furiously. It's an ill-fitting gesture, because your eyes are wide like a fish out of water. She stares at you, searching for a hint that you're lying just to please her, but her relief breaks through after a few moments in a wide smile and a choked laugh. Your heart seizes, and you watch her eyes flicker between you and your father.

"Really? You're really okay?"

"Really, mama."

This time her hug strangles you and she's laughing into your ear. You feel another squeeze on your shoulder, then the floorboard creaks.

The piano starts.

#ARCHIVE/DRABBLE. #unsanitary cw #aids cw #homphobia cw #i would like it noted that this is set on dec 21st 1988 #and that was in fact the headline of the sacbee on that particular date #3 hrs of research #for that to be the only mention #fuk me #ANYWAY YEAH this is how jill came out #HAVE I EVER MENTIONED HOW MUCH I LOVE SECOND PERSON

[byron1]

Microwave door bouncer to keep you from eating garbage. "Where do we Go now" guns & roses/ picking a restaurant Fallout joke: I was at work while you cheating all day. Punchline: I never even got to cheat AND she would tell me about her bounty EVRyday SKIT: Danielle cooking pie (or anything really) and you have headphones on improve rapping to her and it sounds good to me but cut to her with no music and she looks at me very annoyedly Opener: Walks on stage, grabs mic and lays down. "Instead of stand up up I'm gonna try "lay down", it's way more comfortable.. That joke needs a Mitch headberg voice" repeat joke in Mitch headberg voice "com-fort-able" Hotel TV remotes have never been cleaner. Everybody on the phone watching porn and Netflix. The last person to use a hotel remote for porn died years ago Terminator cop in San Diego -what it felt like on mushrooms (terminator slo mo walk by) -what really happened (cop just walks by and shrugs) "Whenever I start dating a girl I buy her a really nice, big purse as a gift. ...Cuz she's gonna be carrying a bunch of my shit around for the next 4 1/2 months" - jack bliss Old west - duel going on in the middle of town. Mayor stops everything -"what are you guys arguing about" "is it worth dying over? I mean I can look this up on my phone" Mayor looks it up on the phone and who ever was wrong gets shot with no countdown ..Watch a little porn. Once you get too familiar with a site you drift to the lesser known porn sites ...This particular website has a top 50 viewed videos.. And you can sort em by 1 day, 7 days, 30 days, and my favorite, "all-time". ..That's just a buncha like minded individuals helpin' each other out.. But you can always tell when a bunch of likeminded weirdos find the site cuz for the 1 Day Most Viewed, it's just a ton of videos of people peein' on each other. And now it's like "maaaan, now I'm not even in the mood. AND I'm disappointed in you PornoTime, I didn't even now that was so prevalent on your site!" And it's usually on a Sunday... All you pee heathens jerkin off on the toilet with your computers on your laps should be at church! But then I'm like ".....let's see what all this hype is about" If I eat Asian food and drink a glass of milk, will I explode? Asians they don't drink milk! I think it's cuz they know. It's like when you have Indian or real African neighbors and that food smell just permeates ev-er-y thing. Unpleasant for the most part. Asians think white people smell like rotten cheese or like the cow aushwitz off the 5. <----Cowlinga. Nasty place. I was on a road trip with my wife and "she's tired" (bitchy voice) so she wants to stop for the night. At night she couldn't tell but in the morning when that sun came up?.. And that stink starts stinkin?.. She's like "oh those poor Asians. We should stop eating cheese for them" And then she puked. Friendricks Smitreaux - hands too small, not allowed in Burger King. Has quarrels. (Jack) Calling GameStop, having a nerdy conversation, with a funny voice. Rb movie voice could be a thing. Do you have x y z Round table pizza local interview podcast Wife's mom with gigantic fat pet and gets scolded by vet. Mom is pissed new underwear lint gets stuck to your dick. About to get a blowjob and she freaks out cuz there's fuzzy berries all over your jimmy wang dong. (Explain in between these sentences how fuzz sticks to your dick when you have new unwashed out of the box underwear) I've done this to my wife since we started dating "Chivalry Gone Wild" - pushing girls out of the way to open the doors for them. Later girl has chivalry ptsd (now she shivers when a guy reaches for the check at a restaurant) "Once I got roofied..." Story ensues "Once I had a crazy dream..." Story ensues Either way you're bored Went into the bank, for the candy of course, why else would you go inside these days. As I reach for the candy, the lady behind the counter says "DON'T TAKE THAT CANDY!...... It's super old.. Here take this, I have a 'secret stash' back here" I was like "You Smoke Weed, huh?" No I didn't say that, I just did the stoner laugh, which basically communicates the same message I have road rage. Like.. bad. But they're really cracking down on that now. I mean you can't even throw the bird these days. So I'm trying to advocate this, in place of the bird, you hit the rear window spray 2 times. (doesn't work if your window is dirty) I'm trying to spread this so people know I'm insulting them..... Also the "up hand", thumbs up is for assholes...... I just don't want road rage to go away, you know?! Went to the grocery store at night and someone was sleeping in the car I parked in front of. I see a middle finger come over the dash. I quickly kill my headlights and the middle finger turns into a thumbs up and recedes below the dash. I like that person.. Soccer needs timeouts like catholic priests need to be able to fuck. Flopping soccer players = selabate priests Lost lake truck sinks into water. Guy goes back for cigarettes brings one pack instead of the ENTIRE CARTON White people now can only do other ethnicities voices while reading a name. (List 3 different "ethnic" names) Buttercup story: weed in New York Trying to get a random buddy to be the third player in the game of RISK is like trying to get a random girl to come back to your house and suck you AND your buddies dicks. "Wanna play a game of risk?" Shit no Instead of people saying "Grizzly Adams DID have a beard" I think we should change it to "Kurt Cobain DID have a gun" "no I swear I don't have a gun" ...too soon?! Liqueur Control Board. Two young kids walk into a bar. They order jäger. Liquor Control comes in and says to the bartender: "do you those kids you served are underaged?" Bartender says "you're out of your Jurisdiction!!! Call the Liqueur Control Board!!" Liqueur Control Board shows up lookin like French cops "(( assholeish French accent thing here))" I work construction..... (Frown face) You THINK you want to shit in a freshly clean porta-potty. But that's not the case. You drop any size turd in that blue water and it's coming back up to splash your asshole. You need a big pile of turd to cushion the blow. I frequent a sports bar, and they allow kids in a certain section and sometimes you don't see these children behind you. So you day-drunkenly yell out "well I can't exactly tit fuck 'er, but they're perfectly shaped!" ((Rule of thirds here, needs 2 more examples)) History Lesson: •Good at art cuz no porn - there was much better art, and I mean paintings, back in the days of yore. Do you know why so many iconic paintings come from this era?! Because there was no porn. You think these guys (Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Monet) weren't drawing weird sex stuff in their spare time?! Of course they were. People think porn took over in vhs days but it's gone back much further than you think Way back in the day, I don't think they had the ADA (American Dental Association), but if they did it would be The Association of Guys that Own Pliers. If you had a tooth ache in the 18th century, your barber would pull your tooth!.. Guess the barber had a set of pliers.. therefore making him.. also a dentist. Hatred for people with red hair bleed over from hatred for the Irish? I just found out I'm Irish.. My dad was adopted and he just did the genealogy thing. Piss on a stick, or something.... I may be thinking of something else.. Anyway, it makes a ton of sense cuz my mom was Swiss. And if you know anything about the Swiss, they don't tend to takes sides, (hmhrph wwii). So when I get high, I'm Swiss: "hey whatever your views man, let's just have a dialogue.. Orrr not, I really have no stance on the issue." But when I drink whiskey: ..I wanna fight people. And I'm not a big guy soooo, I try not to drink whiskey.. I try to test myself against my friends, but they are all bigger than me so it never ends well. There is one guy who's bigger than me, but I can just psychologically break him down, and it's all true so I always win. And those other big guys are around and laughing so I have some protection. Things like "good thing those chicks can't see how many times you swipe right, otherwise they would call you a "Desperate Bitch!" Or: "you're so pathetic, how do you not have a crescent wrench?!" Things like that. One Friday night, He was a coward and attacked me while I was fall over baby deer legs drunk. We shut the bar down and as we're walking out he shoves me and I go flying into the ashtray. Butts are flyin.. I was not happy with him and I think I had some whiskey that night because I plotted revenge for the next day, I say "I'm gonna fuck this guy up". Saturday morning we always go back to the bar for breakfast. He says "you gonna be at the bar for breakfast?" I say "yeah buddy, 20 minutes". That's when I start loading the quarters into the sock. But yeah, whiskey makes me angry, I guess. Did anyone notice how the hitler youth haircut came back right around the time most of the wwii vets were pretty much all dead? The hipsters were scared of some old vet having a flashback to the war. "YOU.. NAZI.. BASTARD!!!" So my wife says to me while we're in the kitchen, out of nowhere, and I quote, "yeah I drop craisins" I'm thinking this is some new thing the kids are doing. Then she points to the floor and..there is a craisin. She says "watch this" and shoves a gigantic handful in her mouth and a few fall on the floor. She then walks away Slava drug store story. "What kind of a name is that?!" Shia vs. Tink The wiener dog comes in the house, if it smells the cat, he goes crazy. (Killed the neighbor tea cup something or another) the cat hears his collar and jumps up out of range and watches us shower the dog with love. ((Cats reaction is the punchline)) "What the fuck, that dude is trying to kill me!! Benedict friggin Arnolds" Danielle: "Willy Wonka" is like "Saw" for kids Never touch a mans belt buckle. Cuz they drape their balls over them while taking a piss "Hey lesbians, do you have your gloves in the car? They said yes. Well let's get a pickup game going! Hunters heroin people story - "she's sucking his DICK!" MMA fighter goes back in time to 1907. Breaks 1907's guys wrist because of his dumb boxing stance Lady at rite aid going through gender reassignment. I use my chip and she tells me to slide. I say "yeah we're going through a transitional phase right now" instantly realize what I just said Back to the bar. Being a smoker you know everybody's car.. you've seen them come and go enough because you're that much of an alcoholic and smoke on the half hour for the six hours you're there. (Well not you, me) So you'll walk up to the bar and be like "oh hello, jacks car, let's just lift up your windshield wipers there buddy" or "oh yup, Old Man Roy parked like a dick again.." Or "Hey look! there's Kevin's truck, let's draw a dick on it". <---Another thing about being a smoker that brings me joy, is watching the horror on people's faces when they scape the plastic underneath their bumper when pulling to close to the curb. I always give a look implying "you just fucked up your bumper!" Bar, Interior: If I'm on my phone and you come sit next to me at the rail, do not get on your phone, cuz then I feel like we look like assholes and I put my phone away.. But I still have shit to do so you're really being a real monkey wrench in my operation People who do bird calls: trying to trick birds? Stock internet passwords make you seem like an insane person. Jolly ocean 3, rapid pineapple 0. An insane person looks at it and goes "....that works. No need to even change it.." Bevmo event planner needs an option for your alcoholic friends. 3 pictures. What do your friends look like at the end of the night; 1. Someone smiling 2. Hot mess 3. Just a toilet Sleeping in the wrong car overnight My wife put my jerk off blanket out for people to use. "You sicko!! You were gonna let my friends use that blanket" I'm thinking of the scenario where somebody goes to grab and I say "oh that's my baby blanket, I don't know how that got out here, let me get you another one.." And..((eyebrow)) I wouldn't be lying about the baby blanket thing. Old men's memory's are bad because their spank banks are 70 years full. Head Bobbers of Noddingham My wife said "you know how I know you're an alcoholic? Because your handwriting is shit but your numbers are beautiful. Signing tabs everyday for the last 10 years will do that" You know what really freaks out the ladies? When you immediately realize what you did wrong. You start apologizing too soon and it somehow makes things much worse. So if you one day have an immediate realization about something you did wrong... Play the dumb card for a day or 3 to make it seem like you've put deep thought into your mistake. Skinny guys dating fat chicks: what if she gets cold, how can you share your jacket?! My dad was adopted and finally did that genetics test •"spit"• hey, we're Irish. That makes a ton of sense. Too much whiskey and all of the sudden I get ridiculous agry Power went out in target. Here's how weird I am: I stole a snoop dogg cd and a Björk cd. To all women: if one is partaking upon a banana in public, use a knife. This will discourage onlookers. #yesallwomen Anyone old enough to send away "proof of purchases" for a prize from the back of a cereal box? Had to ask your mom for $2.50 to cover shipping and handling.. Waiting for it made you realize there is no true instant gratification. The waiting! Everyday: did it arrive, mother?!... No? (sulk away) then FINALLY when your 6 piece Lego set shows up you think: "I'm 27 I don't care about Legos anymore!" (Needs a tag) ((maybe:)) but I forgot to pull out when I was 21 so my 6 yr old will enjoy it) Old phone when unlocked will have a random screen of something from earlier. Sometimes it's porn. Gotta be careful Nowadays you see an old lady walking around and you think "that lady looks as old as my grandma when I was 9. She's got the old lady hair, the old lady sweater, old lady shoes, old lady jewelry" but then she has some rockin' tits! They do a "facelift" for those titties Gotta be careful watching porn with headphones. The getting caught factor isn't even what I mean, I leave one ear off for that. I only do les porn with headphones. cuz you don't need some dude "ugh ugh ugh! Oh Ya baby suck that cock" RIGHT IN YOUR ear. Not what I'm goin for there. White people always put housin sauce in the pho. Next to the bar I go to is a pho place. Smoking with Paul Teaching us how after we go in drunk.. (Housen sauces for dippin the meat)((white people put it in the broth)) "oh really?? Cut to me at home- it's delicious!!" Free bottle of siracha Pouring the old pho in the toilet ("how else do you get rid of old pho?!") How pissed off are you when someone in a Tesla SUV doesn't open their back doors? "Lemme see that back to the future sheeeit!" Old guy coughing sounds like someone taking crap to you. "What the hell did you say to me, old man?