[ the wrong kind of wrong ]

[winterlive]

this one friend of mine likes almost no kind of music but country - new country/pop, not the old stuff. sometimes, when we would drive around and i just couldn't take it anymore, i would demand that we listen to ANYTHING ELSE, so she would pop in one of the two other CDs she owned: Big Shiny Tunes #, or the coyote ugly soundtrack. i was astonished to discover, on first listening, that some of the tracks belonging to leanne rimes didn't actually suck as hard as i thought they would. they were gay and dancey, you know the kind, just a dumb song you kind of like.

today, i watched the movie.

the pivotal moment, i felt, was when our heroine's gorgeous turkish boyfriend (who, earlier in the movie, did an entire stripper routine for a huge pile of women jockeying to BUY him) told her that because she danced on a bar in sexy clothes, she was a whore.

yes, her father telling her that her working at that bar made him ASHAMED of her was also high on the list. but see, daddy apologized for being such an obnoxious, self-serving prick. he might not have totally reformed, but he at least acknowledged he was in the wrong.

not like gorgeous turkish boyfriend, whose big extending of the hand of reconciliation was - i am not even kidding - that if our heroine wanted to, she could come HELP HIM UNLOAD FISH.

oh, no, no, dear. let me explain something to you. i want you to pay very close attention, gorgeous turkish boyfriend, okay? ready? this is important, so listen: go fuck yourself. fuck your mother. fuck everything about you, you horrific, arrogant, sanctimonious hypocrite.

i always liked christina aguilera. she wore tight, leather clothes with peekaboo cutouts and sang songs with too many Rs in them about how much she looooooved sex. and let me tell you, people did not like that. people called her a big whore. xtina, the bad one, the one that'd burn out, classless trailer trash.

not like that sweet britney spears. she was saving herself for MARRIAGE. she was so pretty.

ps fuck you.



FRAIGH, SO ANGRY.

anyway, god. cee did this meme (and came up with MORE KONO, people; run, don't walk) and i like it, so i'm stealing it.

Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future, unless it's that one single story i wrote that's all porn all the time, b/c there's there's that exactly one of you that always asks for that one but it's just more porn, so nothing doing, pick something else.

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[winterlive.livejournal.com]

"What're you doing?"

Jared looks up from the counter in Jensen's trailer, krazy glue in his hand and wide eyes. "Nothing."

Jensen snorts, not even bothering to look up from where Mario's leaping into a mushroom, turning into a real boy. Beep, beep. "Whatever you're doing, stop it. Do whatever you want to your own trailer, but keep your kinder toys and whatever-the-fuck off my counter."

"You wound me," Jared says, feeding the little needle on the cap into the tube, closing it off.

"I know you."

"I was fixing it, asshole. Your formica was coming loose." Jared hits the couch like an avalanche; Jensen's almost sure he can feel the trailer bounce on its tires from the pure force of it. If Jared were rain, he'd be a torrential downpour - nothing halfway. His pearly whites flash with wickedness. "You really oughta be nicer to it."

"Maybe you oughta not hold onto it so tight next time," Jensen says, and only barely blushes. He's getting used to Jared's bluntness, but it's a process.

Jared leans in, bumps his shoulder. "Never gonna get tired of that," he says, his voice dropping an octave or four as he whispers. "You fuck me just right."

Jensen feels the tips of his ears ignite and shoves Jared hard. "Dude, Christ's sake. We're on set." His cheeks are burning, the back of his neck, he stares at his hands and feels his shoulders tense up, pull together.

Jared's already laughing. "Never gonna get tired of that, either," he chortles, poking at Jensen's arm. "Ain't he cuuuute!"

"Shut up," Jensen says, but he's smiling. The PSP in his hand beeps at him, and he brandishes at his giggling costar. "You bought this piece of shit; the least you could do is let me and Mario kill mushrooms in peace."

"Screw Mario," Jared says, and he grabs the PSP out of Jensen's hand. "My turn."

"On set," Jensen feebly objects, but Jared's already sliding over on the couch, laying the PSP aside, and it's just too late.

[setissma.livejournal.com]

*CLUTCH*