cumberpheasant replied to your link: Ok one more time, pleaseoh god DON’T MAKE ME DO THISSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I’M SO UNCOMFORTABLE RIGHT NOW.
PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE. IT IS INTERESTING. CHRISTINE AND I ARE TALKING ABOUT IT ON SKYPE.
THE NICE THING IS WE ALL HAVE REALLY SIMILAR FLAWS
MEANT 2 B
BECAUSE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW THAT THIS IS ACTUALLY WHAT CHRISTINE AND I SPEND OUR EVENINGS DOING.
EXCELLENT. STILL ASHAMED OF ‘WENDING MACHINES’. I WAS HOPING YOU WOULDN’T NOTICE. MY PROBLEM WITH SPEAKING ENGLISH IS THAT I’M USED TO SUCH A FAST PACE THAT MY BRAIN STILL TRIES TO CONTINUE IT IN ENGLISH, EVEN THOUGH MY MOUTH CAN’T FORM THE WORDS CORRECTLY FAST ENOUGH. OH WELL.
BE NOT ASHAMED OF ‘WENDING MACHINES.’ IT WAS //ADORABLE//. AND ALSO, YES, OF COURSE WE ARE ABSURDLY NICE ABOUT YOU - IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME.
A maid there was in Finland fair
with pale white skin and scarlet hair
and lacy turquoise underwear
and sorrow in her heart.
Her land was under winter’s cloud;
her spirits they were sunken down,
her jaeger bottles emptied out
and lost amid the dark.
“Oh woe is me!” the maiden cried,
“My friends are on the other side
of distant waters deep and wide
and I have got no booze!”
She wept and wept from dusk till dawn,
then pulled her five-inch blue heels on
and, like a fearless mastodon,
she went and booked a cruise.
“I’ll sail away,” quoth she, “and then
I’ll find some sexy single men
and woo them to my heart’s content
and then I’ll have some pie.”
She swore this vow unto the night,
th’unsmiling, ancient Finnish night,
which broods upon the towering heights
of spectral Finnish pines.
The wind came shivering down the slopes
of mountainsides that swarmed with ghosts
and bound the heartsick maiden’s oath
as wind is wont to do.
She heard its cry, it pierced her soul,
and with the rush of sudden cold
she felt a strength from days of old
that filled her heart anew.
So off she went upon her way
through stormy storms and wavy waves
to lands and stuff, and things with caves,
and rocks and crap like that.
Eventually she ended up
in Michigan, where things were tough,
and there, she thought, was far enough,
so she hung up her hat.
Our tale comes, sadly, to a close,
for rhymes are hard when caffeine flows,
and you know how the story goes,
just finish it yourself.
But ne’er forget the wise man’s words
once spoken or written down or heard
that had to do with, like, a magic bird
or something about an elf.
So Jessie already did one that I think is brilliant- otp: dance goatastasia dance - but here, have MOAR:
otp: nutella is a replacement for human interaction
otp: who needs significant others when we know we’re awesome already
otp: AN ORGY OF FEELS
otp: what are these ‘boundaries’ that you speak of
I think ‘butt-themed haikus and tweets about vibrator wigs’is going to be the title of my tell-all book about my life on the internet.
This is AMAZING oh my god I am actually crying with laughter right now and I sound like a small asthmatic dog on helium because this is THE BEST THING.
Especially since that is exactly the way I would hit on Ester, you know it to be true, and the giant watermelon chair, and you’re an architect, and Ester PEED on the FLOOR, and you’re crying over science, and the Purple Room of Laundry is killing me for some reason.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my pirate ship bed and dream about public policy and this face: