[ the wrong kind of wrong ]
Dec. 19th, 2007 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winterlivethis 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.
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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no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 05:23 am (UTC)The day after that is a Friday. Jared's going to stay here for the weekend, he's got his new house to unpack, his new yard to litter with dog toys. Jensen is going. Jensen has his ticket ready.
He meets up with Mike while they're getting shuffled through VIP customs at seven in the morning. "Hey," he says, and buries his nose in his coffee cup.
"Fuck you," Mike grunts, and shoves his jacket in the plastic bin to get x-rayed. The customs guy doesn't bat an eye, looking half asleep.
Jensen smiles. There's only one person who gets bitchier in the mornings than he does, and it's Rosey. "You're a ball of sunshine," he murmurs.
Mike grunts again, this time just a noise. He shuffles through the metal detector, barefoot and squinting against the sunrise, and spreads his hands so they can wand him. Things squeal all over him and he has to practically get naked for the woman before she'll let him past. He doesn't even have the common courtesy to flirt with her, and Jensen winces.
Nothing squeals when he goes through. He has duplicates of all his toiletries in Los Angeles, so he doesn't carry anything with him. His lighter and smokes are in a sealed, clear plastic bag, per ordinance.
Mike's bag is half full when he comes away from the table, fighting a shoe onto one foot. Jensen waits by the doors. "I hate this fucking place," Mike growls, dark lines under his eyes. "When do we board?"
"An hour," Jensen says, enjoying the instant flare of rage in Mike's eyes. "We got delayed."
"Fuck!"
"Oh, calm down."
Mike grabs Jensen's sleeve by the shoulder and starts hauling him toward the bathroom. "It wasn't just color commentary, you fucking idiot."
Jensen blinks. "Oh."
It's not nice. Mike chases some poor Canadian commuter out of the bathroom, and the guy can't stop apologizing. Mike just bolts the door in his face. It's a shove up against the hard counter, a biting kiss and a fast fumble of zippers. Long-fingered hands find their way into Jensen's pants, gripping hard, demanding, and before Jensen can get out a Jesus, Michael, he's being pulled and tugged just so.
Who does that kind of thing? In an airport bathroom? Jensen is forced to answer himself: Me.
Mike sleeps through the flight, but Jensen can't nod off. He knows something has to change. He wants it to.
He just has to make it happen.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-20 05:59 am (UTC)This is wonderful :) Boyscout-prepared!Jensen and grumbly!Michael and bathroom!sex :D And this line, which is awesome:
Who does that kind of thing? In an airport bathroom? Jensen is forced to answer himself: Me.
*loves much*
Thank you!
And a hopeful little ending.