Breakfast
T'h (unprompted): Lobelia, if you could choose to go on a hot date with one of these two, which one would you choose? Zidane or Ronaldo?
Me: What do you mean, hot date?
T'h: Go to a restaurant, and afterwards...
Me: (*interrupts*) Which restaurant?
T'h: (*exasperated*) A really nice kind! You could choose!
Me: I'm not sure I want to go to a restaurant. These are footballers!! I would be worried about the standard of conversation.
T'h: Okay, okay, not a restaurant! Just straight to bed. Zidane or Ronaldo?
Me: Which Ronaldo? *is pedant*
T'h: (*shouts*) Cristiano Ronaldo! The wonderful old French guy or the beautiful young Ronaldo?
Me: I'll have Ronaldo, please. Yup.
T'h: You can, too. There is a new initiative: Footballers share their sex with middle-aged women in England.
Me: *cackles but is instantly convinced that such an initiative must surely, indeed, exist, and pulse quickens absurdly*
T'8-yr old: (*indignant*) Mama's not middle-aged!
(Are we corrupting the youth of tomorrow?)
T'h: I am looking forward to when the World Cup is over. And I can have my wife back.
Me: Yeah. And I can have my life back!
T'h: To me a wife, to you a life.
Dr Rodney McKay/Cristiano Ronaldo
Yes. This is what I am writing now. (Taking a break from angsty Roonaldo anger!fic.) This fic also features Viggo Mortensen, Dominic Monaghan, Miss Moneypenny and Colin Creevey. Geek meets ephebe. What's not to love? I may possibly also insert an incisively penned critique of globalised marketing and sponsoring corruption and the exploitation of the third world.
Possibly.
Pictures of the pack
And in keeping with my patriarchy analogy:
( Pretty pics of wolves and cubs )
T'h (unprompted): Lobelia, if you could choose to go on a hot date with one of these two, which one would you choose? Zidane or Ronaldo?
Me: What do you mean, hot date?
T'h: Go to a restaurant, and afterwards...
Me: (*interrupts*) Which restaurant?
T'h: (*exasperated*) A really nice kind! You could choose!
Me: I'm not sure I want to go to a restaurant. These are footballers!! I would be worried about the standard of conversation.
T'h: Okay, okay, not a restaurant! Just straight to bed. Zidane or Ronaldo?
Me: Which Ronaldo? *is pedant*
T'h: (*shouts*) Cristiano Ronaldo! The wonderful old French guy or the beautiful young Ronaldo?
Me: I'll have Ronaldo, please. Yup.
T'h: You can, too. There is a new initiative: Footballers share their sex with middle-aged women in England.
Me: *cackles but is instantly convinced that such an initiative must surely, indeed, exist, and pulse quickens absurdly*
T'8-yr old: (*indignant*) Mama's not middle-aged!
(Are we corrupting the youth of tomorrow?)
T'h: I am looking forward to when the World Cup is over. And I can have my wife back.
Me: Yeah. And I can have my life back!
T'h: To me a wife, to you a life.
Dr Rodney McKay/Cristiano Ronaldo
Yes. This is what I am writing now. (Taking a break from angsty Roonaldo anger!fic.) This fic also features Viggo Mortensen, Dominic Monaghan, Miss Moneypenny and Colin Creevey. Geek meets ephebe. What's not to love? I may possibly also insert an incisively penned critique of globalised marketing and sponsoring corruption and the exploitation of the third world.
Possibly.
Pictures of the pack
And in keeping with my patriarchy analogy:
( Pretty pics of wolves and cubs )