The very best thing about neuropathic pain - the absolute tip topper of the entire shining experience of having one’s entire right leg right back up to the spine decide that it hates itself - is the fact that there is no comfortable way to sleep.
None. I’ve tried them all. Zero gee might work but I don’t rule out the possibility that my leg would simply, given no other options, spontaneously combust.
“Got the morbs” should be a thing.
Victorian slang is AMAZING, and select phrases really need to make a comeback.
“Bitch the pot” - Pour the tea (HOW RELEVANT IS THIS!?)
“Bang up the elephant” - Absolutely perfect; super stylish
“Well, that’s shot the bale” - Something that has missed the mark entirely
“Church-bell” - A woman prone to gossip
“Chuckaboo” - A dear friend, a bosom chum
“Beer and skittles” - A great time (see also: Irish Gaelic “craic”)
“Butter on bacon” - Something overdone or too extravagant
“Cupid’s kettle drums” - Breasts, particularly large ones
“Gigglemug” - A cheerful smiling face
All of these??? Make me smile??? They’re so weird and wonderful I love them??? Especially bitch the pot because that’s something I could totally hear myself saying…that and chuckaboo
I worked in a Victorian tea house in my youth and I’m telling you, you haven’t lived till you hear a the 98 year old lady (this was some 15 years ago) utter the words “bitch the pot” because it was what they used to say when the tea house first opened and it just sort of stuck through all the generations.
i can hear these in both British accents and southern accents.
Do you ever think about Aziraphale going out of his way to learn internet lingo just to make Crowley cringe in his own skin? Cause I do. (I’m still not entirely unconvinced that wasn’t why he learned to do sleight of hand magic. “You’r an angel, Angel! You can just summon the right card!” “But wouldn’t that rather be like cheating!” “IT’S HUMAN MAGIC, IT’S ALL CHEATING”)
Like the first time he says “LOL” out loud. “Ell-oh-ell, as the kids say” he says cheerfully
and Crowley nearly slams the Bentley into a duck pond cause his brain just tried to escape what his ears just heard and subsequently goes off on a ten minute rant about how no one says it out loud, you’re not supposed to say it out loud, Angel. All the while
Aziraphale
is feigning politely confused ignorance, and thoroughly enjoying the tangent Crowley has now sneeringly diverted onto, snipping and snarling his way through his syllables, eventually admitting that while he claimed responsibility for the addition of YouTube comments on videos, that was just another thing humans came up with all on their own.
“Fascinating,” is all the angel has to say for himself, and the incident is quite forgotten until he does it again, this time responding to something Crowley says simply with “meirl” and for a split second Crowley thinks it’s some sort of German word he’s actually forgot exists until he realizes
Aziraphale
just said “me in real life” and whatever last few dregs of his soul that exist shrivel and die.
And it just keeps happening until one day Crowley catches the flutter of amusement behind Aziraphale’s benign and guileless expression and realizes the smug git has been trolling him this whole time, and he’s simultaneously torn between being hopping mad about it (because that’s his job dammit) but also weirdly proud.
“You bastard,” he says, unable to keep the serpentine smile from spreading over his face, “how long were you going to keep that up?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my dear,” the angel replies placidly, taking a sip from his teacup and pulling a face, “this tea however is absolutely scorching. I do hope I don’t spill any. That would be quite the mood.”
SCREAMING
South African women’s soccer team walking into the World Cup like🇿🇦🇿🇦
That’’s how yo make an entrance.
This reminds me of The Click Song performance. My heart soars.
arcticflakes
