All I can remember about last night’s dream is that the Daleks had declared the Joker their new emperor, and when Earth found out they considered it for a moment, shrugged, said, “Well, we’re doomed,” and went back to their routine. Because when the Daleks put that crazy bastard in charge, you’re so dead it doesn’t even matter what you do, so you might as well just go about your business.
Until I drop the squeeze cheez. And it punctures. And it starts shooting cheez food product. All over me, of course, because the initial jet pushed against the ground and spun the can so it was shooting upwards. All over my shoes and my pants and my jacket and oh yes, also my hair.Context needs to get spray-cheez off the car (flocked; quoted with permission.)
Of course even after I get out of the way of the cheez geyser, wacky fun ensues as I try to ease my cheezy self into the car without smearing cheez food product all over the inside of the car. For a second I even considered driving home without my seatbelt (it was about half a mile), but I decided it would JUST FIGURE that I'd get in an accident and have to explain to first the cops and then the nice emergency room people exactly why I was covered in garlic flavored cheez spray.
Oh yes, it was garlic flavored. Mmm! It's like the finest Dijon cheez spray!
"I'm still not convinced as to the positive qualities of a glass vibrator, despite the saleswoman's enthusiastic pitch."
Context is still scatching her head.
mswyrr: I love your brain. ((knits it a cozy hat))
rashaka: ((is this a hat made out of paper printed from fanfic?))
mswyrr: ((Nay. 'Tis knit together of the vain imaginings of fangirls and boys the world over. The bright blue thread is composed entirely of light saber fight fantasies, the mauve is slash fiction, green is for good plotting and theme, yellow is the squee they never expected, and red is simple, glorious lust.))