Heisted from marvelgirl ...

[apocalypsos]

... who heisted it from someone else . Seven famous people I would sleep with -- one night, no strings attached, no questions asked. (The "If I were a lesbian ..." list is in parentheses.)

1. James Marsters (Halle Berry, but only if she didn't speak.)
2. Hugh Jackman (Reese Witherspoon.)
3. Orlando Bloom (Jennifer Lopez, who is also not allowed to speak.)
4. Johnny Depp (Eliza Dushku.)
5. Viggo Mortensen (Cameron Diaz. Her, either.)
6. Peter Wingfield (Jennifer Garner.)
7. Denzel Washington (Jennifer Aniston. And not because I'm trying to fill a Jennifer Quota, either. She can talk, but only about Brad.)

*sigh* Maybe that's what I'll buy if I win the Powerball tomorrow night -- this list. And I'll hug them and squeeze them and screw them and name them all George. Except for Orlando, who gets to keep his name because I find it oddly appropriate that a guy who looks like he'd be that much fun to play with has the same name as a city with a giant amusement park.

Anyway, wandered home from the crappy night job early last night because I felt extraordinarily wasted. (And speaking of wasted, how fair is it that I got to be the smart one and my little brother got to be the one with all of the tolerance for alcohol? That little bastard drank an entire bottle of Southern Comfort last night. Just in case you were wondering, his liver is desperately looking to time share with three other livers. Just email it at bryans_future_case_of_cirrhosis@yahoo.com.)

Several wonderful hours of sleep later, I woke up refreshed, feeling much better ... and possessed of a great big honking bruise on the Sprained Ankle of Doom. WTF?! It looks like someone came into my room last night, saw me sleeping there all cute and sweet and peaceful, and then beat me about the ankle with a field hockey stick!

If so, I worry about the culprit. Any normal person would have brought a priest and all of the fixings for an exorcism. Sheesh.

Comments

[dustbunnygirl.livejournal.com]

I feel your pain...well, not the ankle-beaten-with-field-hockey-stick pain, but the born-with-no-alcohol-tolerance pain. I wonder if your brother and my sister were somehow separated at birth? She's been known to do straight vodka shots all evening...just for lack of anything better to do. And me, with my "two drinks and I'm ready to hop on a table and do the wiggly dance"...not fair, i tell ya...

Re:

[apocalypsos.livejournal.com]

Yes, exactly! It's some weird thing where you and me are two-drink maximums and they've got hollow legs with the same spacial whozits as the TARDIS. It's unfair, is what it is.

[dustbunnygirl.livejournal.com]

Highly, horribly, horrendously unfair. It's like we're little sober Cinderella's, and their the drunken stepsisters that get to go to the drunken ball. Only your brother's not a sister. Why do I have this awful image of both our siblings in ball gowns tripping their way across the dance floor with matching brown-paper bagged bottles?

[wenchamok.livejournal.com]

*spew* Love that mental image....and would that be Goth!Deb or Britney!Deb?

And who says it's a bad thing to be a cheap drunk? It just means you have more money left at the end of the night! ;) Especially if you have a hat that says cheap drunk on it and people buy you drinks all night....

[dustbunnygirl.livejournal.com]

Ya know, it's the Britney!Deb. In ballerina pink and corkscrew curls. And...oh god, no...body glitter!