angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2005-12-16 01:21 am
angelgazing) wrote2005-12-16 01:21 am
there should be topic jumping olympics
(1) Hellooo, Rob Merciano, how have I never noticed you around before?
(2) And what's it gonna take for me to get you and Anderson both standing in the wet, wet rain next hurricane season?
(3) Yes, that was a serious question.
(4) I am still shocked, shocked, I tell you, that I finished all the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashfest fics.
(5) Now I just have to do my shacking up secret santa thingy, and I will be done for like the whole year.
(6) And I'm really not signing up for another ficathon until remix.
(7) And only remix because I cannot resist the temptation of it.
(8) I have a splinter in my thumb that will not come out.
(9) I just felt the need to whine about that. And to, like, remind people that I cannot have just a fic journal. That's craziness.
(10)
"Five minutes."
House, feet propped up, watching a commercial for laundry detergent that focuses on grass a lot, whines. "But, Mom, I don't want to go to school today! I don't feel good."
"I've got half my doctors out sick, House, you're not getting out of clinic duty today." Cuddy uses her stern voice, and holds a chart in front of her so that House isn't even treated to a cleavage-glimpse. Her dress is covered in pink flowers, and really, it's only the low-cut that makes it bearable for passerbys.
"I'm sick too," House says, lifting up his bad leg just slightly for emphasis, his hand under his knee. "Got a note and everything."
Cuddy hmms; unimpressed. And makes a note on what he'd be willing to bed wasn't even a real chart. It was probably just a tally sheet, to try and keep score of her wins and losses. "You've got five minutes, House, and then I expect to see you in the clinic." She pauses, looks up and smiles, the way she does when she knows she's got him. "For every five minutes you're late, your parking spot gets moved back five feet. Stick person sticker or no."
(2) And what's it gonna take for me to get you and Anderson both standing in the wet, wet rain next hurricane season?
(3) Yes, that was a serious question.
(4) I am still shocked, shocked, I tell you, that I finished all the
slashfest fics.(5) Now I just have to do my shacking up secret santa thingy, and I will be done for like the whole year.
(6) And I'm really not signing up for another ficathon until remix.
(7) And only remix because I cannot resist the temptation of it.
(8) I have a splinter in my thumb that will not come out.
(9) I just felt the need to whine about that. And to, like, remind people that I cannot have just a fic journal. That's craziness.
(10)
"Five minutes."
House, feet propped up, watching a commercial for laundry detergent that focuses on grass a lot, whines. "But, Mom, I don't want to go to school today! I don't feel good."
"I've got half my doctors out sick, House, you're not getting out of clinic duty today." Cuddy uses her stern voice, and holds a chart in front of her so that House isn't even treated to a cleavage-glimpse. Her dress is covered in pink flowers, and really, it's only the low-cut that makes it bearable for passerbys.
"I'm sick too," House says, lifting up his bad leg just slightly for emphasis, his hand under his knee. "Got a note and everything."
Cuddy hmms; unimpressed. And makes a note on what he'd be willing to bed wasn't even a real chart. It was probably just a tally sheet, to try and keep score of her wins and losses. "You've got five minutes, House, and then I expect to see you in the clinic." She pauses, looks up and smiles, the way she does when she knows she's got him. "For every five minutes you're late, your parking spot gets moved back five feet. Stick person sticker or no."
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Told you!
Now you have to listen to ME whine about the last two sesas I have to write. *g*
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