LJ can bite me.

[apocalypsos]

Thanks, you spastic bastard, for eating my last post. I appreciate that.

So anyway, Chris needs to keeps his hair that length and wear that color blue all the damn time. Rowr. (You know what I need to make? Another Chris icon that says, "Still the prettiest -- ask me how!" You know, just 'cause watching several fandoms collide in a spectacular crash on one icon is funny.)

Okay, as for the thing that's a bit spoilerish, watching Chris be snarky with Leo becomes twice as amusing now that the whole second son thing is canon and not just speculation. Back then, it was just Chris being pissy for some reason I didn't know -- and looking at the TWoP summary for the episode, that was still back in "Chris is Wyatt all grown up" theory territory -- but now the spoilers make it pretty plain that from Chris's perspective, Leo was a crappy dad, so I guess he was kinda asking for all of the snark. (The polite part of me didn't want to use the term "crappy dad," but if one son goes all Anakin Skywalker on the planet and your fallback son basically thinks you're an Olympic-caliber schmuck, the title "Crappiest Dad of the Decade" might be offered as long as you appear in a public service announcement and cut the ribbon at the Big Supernatural Brothers and Sisters your poor, traumatized children will be frequenting.)

Ahem.

Today, I cleaned my bedroom. I mean, hell, my mother's DNA has to kick in occasionally, right? What worries me is in the ensuing ten hours or so, I've been keeping it clean. Sweet Jesus covered in sugar and dipped in chocolate, I'm turning into my mother!

Well, that's okay. It wasn't like I really needed my common sense.

Eh. At least I'll be able to play golf now.

Comments

[laughingrat.livejournal.com]

LJ has been particularly horrible tonight.

Turning into my mother is what I dread and fear the most. You have my sympathies.

At least your mother can play golf, or least so I infer from your post.

[apocalypsos.livejournal.com]

My mother can play golf very well. My dad's passable, and my little brother pretty good. I, meanwhile, manage to both suck and blow.

I maintain that my mother hogged most of the good DNA with the exception of smarts and sense of humor when I was in the womb, then realized she should probably share the wealth a little more with the next kid. Which is why Bryan can play golf, hold his liquor, and get on amusement park rides without arguments over his height.

[laughingrat.livejournal.com]

*snerk*

Whereas my parents seem to have figured I was the first of many, and therefore a practice child, so I got all the weird DNA blended together, just so they could see how it turned out.

And then, of course, the result was so terrifying that they did not make any more of me. Alas.