"Jesus, Munch, this isn't Sex Talk and I don't want to see your credt car-oh, shit. Something just licked my left heel."

Bwah. I'm gonna keep my brother out of public office one day, aren't I?Or at least be his Roger Clinton.

Much guilt and shame resulted, though as what came up? A study about orphans in Romania. Sigh. People suck. And I'm a bad, shallow person.

Oh dear. You know what's sad? Some sixth grader is googling for information on orphans in Romania, and being introduced to the mechanics of dumpster sex.

OMG, won't somebody think of the children?(The ones who aren't gonna grow up to write about intoxicated detectives in trash bins, that is.)

I have finished crossover spy porn! Whoo!

I need a Brit-check. Specifically on the issue of whether the word "tab", as in a bar tab, is something that Brits would use, but I wouldn't mind a read-through for any other glaring errors. Pluses would include knowledge of Alias/MI-5 and a tolerance for pretty men having sex.

"I always did like a small room," Munch says.
"I'll believe that when I see it.Ew, just stuck my hand in something soft and squishy."

"That is emphatically not mine," Munch says. "I swear."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Dick of steel. Could you lighten up or something...you're taking all the fun out of this!"

"At least there's some to ruin, right?"

"Whatever. Could you just be kissing me now?" About half an hour passes."What the hell was that?"

"Wow, I guess that was just a rumor about you and Felton. But I had no idea you forgot what they felt like."

"No, not that. Something creepy with feet. The "Eyes Wide Shut" part of this day is so over. We have to do it inside, like people."

"Or in the park, like Californians."

"Yeah, but...yikes! John, don't let go...there's a hole!"

"Yeah, but it's more than that."

"Oh, for the love of...in the Dumpster, Gonad Man!"

"Do I get a cape? And a...what-do-you-call it?"

"Codpiece? I guess,"

"That was fast."

"Ed's sister's in Renfaire. And I know how you think!"

"You really are the only woman who gets me."

"I wouldn't go that far!"

I'm totally dead laughing.

Jeeeez, erika. Including the "kissing me now" shoutout.

Aw, thanks. Yeah, I'm proud of that. I wondered if it might be over the top, but once you've had two best friends in the grip of second childhood climb in a Dumpster together, it's kind of too late to worry about it.

[link]

Another tidbit inspired by the History Channel, apropos of nothing much but memories.

Wow,Connie...I commented at greater length in lj. OK, this is what I wrote last night. No sex, but Xander gets to be heroic.
Al Giardello often wishes for Just Five Minutes. Five minutes without the constant ringing of the phone. Five minutes without shepherding Bayliss through Existential Crisis 417, being a peer to Stanley, listening to Munch's Bitch of The Week. And Pembleton, by himself, is a whole other crop of agita There's no other way to say it. The man takes up a lot of space. And there is his other job: professional role model.Every other week, he gets asked to speak, serve on commissions, et fucking cetera. Being a "credit to his heritage" is exhausting. So, when he finds an empty squadroom, other than to tsk at the lack of paperwork, he is mostly relieved to not find Munch narrating the newspaper, or Tim clicking his handcuffs cause he's restless(He really hates it when Bayliss does that...the repetitive clicking rubs him the wrong way, even if, as father figure in this crazy famiglia he would feel petty bringing it up) Gee, for that's even how he thinks of himself, now, takes a deep breath.

But, as the hours pass, the quiet unnerves him. Who would know better the ugly things that quiet can contain? I'll give it another hour, he thinks, then I'll...what? Call the brass? They'd love the chance to brand me incompetent. I'd rather die. And that's how Al Giardello, seasoned department veteran, was rescued by Xander Harris, high school senior. Harris taps politely on the door, looking rather more serious than previously.

"Lieutenant Giardello? I'm Xander Harris, the guy with the candy? You didn't eat any, did you?"

"No, young man, my digestive system forbids chocolate. And if you are looking to restock squadroom supplies, I'm afraid my detectives are...on assignment right now.

Sure,Xander thinks, and my dad trips cause he's clumsy. They're at Chocopalooza with everybody else of voting age.

"Forbids chocolate...that would be a no, huh? At least, it sounds like the stuff Giles says when he means no. "Xander looking thoughtful was oddly familiar, Gee thought, even if he couldn't figure out why. Giardello, he thought, you look at everyone as a suspect...you've been in this job too long.
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