#and footy pants do have soles

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh: Ep4 S1 - Fyre Festival’s shaping up pretty good

We've landed on the Duelist Kingdom island, population: 1.  It's covered in trees and mountains like the high sierras, and a...well...a structure.

I'm pretty sure this is the exact design of every sand castle I've ever constructed. It's...man. Yugioh pulls so many stops and then is like "please accept this generic castle, we are so tired." and youknow there's a lot of episodes this season so I'm going to let it go. You must be tired. You drew a lot of crazy eyes on Yugi and that must take a lot out of you.

(more under the cut)

In this Tardis-style island that seems a lot bigger on the inside than the outside, we march up about 5 million stairs, which must be convenient for Pegasus’s daily commute, and run into a familiar face. Complete with a sharp opera sting jump scare, it’s a guy in a completely average v-neck sweater, that’s right, it’s Bakura.

Then, just as quickly as Bakura appeared, he disappeared, complete with spooky music and pop-scare transitions although he just kinda seems like he’s lost on the way to a picnic in the woods. Like the music is telling me that he’s threatening, it’s zooming in on his face like it’s threatening, but the character design just feels like the worst he’s going to do is borrow my lawnmower and then maybe forget to ever bring it back.

I really do want to know if any kids out there were frightened of Bakura. So far I think I’d be more frightened by like...I dunno, any of the oversized, menacing monsters that come out of these card holograms because Bakura just seems like your very boring classmate who signs your yearbook with maybe an unhappy face and you can never recall why.

PS I have never seen all of Yugioh before so I’m assuming that Bakura is freakin nuts but don’t spoil.

After the 2 mile march up the stone steps, our villain shows up, still clad head to toe in Salmon (and fun fact, do you know who else was known for salmon pants? That’s right, Billy McFarland. Yugioh predicted it here first, folks.)

Instead of, I dunno, letting anyone inside after that exhausting hike up the wall of China, he decides to force them walk all the way back down the stairs and run through the woods and just fend for themselves--no food, no snacks, not even some soggy Fyre Festival tents. Just go for it, small children, if you die, who cares?

The only way out of this actual Hell and the only way to eat a real meal in a real building, is to attack the other people on the island with card duels but I’m gonna go on a limb and assume that very few people are going to do this legit.

Resolutely, our hero decides that ten star chips is the only way to save his Grandpa. I guess. I mean...sure.

And something I forgot to mention last time because it seemed like such a small thing, is that Yugi split his ticket with Joey--so each have one star chip instead of two. And Joey realizes that this is going to be a problem later so he immediately is like “I’m dumb but I’m not that dumb” but luckily, Yugi is just slightly dumber than he is.

The logic here is kind of strained--if they need the 3 million, just have Yugi win it and give it to you for your sister’s surgery. He would probably do that anyway. But sure, both are now competing in this tournament, and I dunno it’s a lot of Joey screen time and I don’t know how I feel about that.

Also this guy popped up for like a second and it spooked me more than Bakura.

He brought that harpoon with him. He boarded the boat with this 10 foot harpoon. He probably took the taxi to the boat with a 10 foot harpoon sticking out the window. What’s the open carry law on harpoons in Japan?

Anyway, Yugi seems overjoyed at the prospect of dueling on this wild island under horrifying conditions and under the complete law of whatever Pegasus decides.

Seeming shorter and more menacing by the moment, Yugi’s first target is Weevil, the guy who threw his cards off the boat and nearly drowned Joey. Now honestly, was that Weevils fault that Joey jumped off a boat? He didn’t push Joey off the boat. That was alllll Joey. I’m not saying Weevil’s a good guy, he did throw out Yugi’s good cards but I think Yugi is as much to blame for just giving his most precious grandpa’s cards to a clearly evil person in the first place.

But anyway he’s super excited to obliterate him in a card duel and is like gunning it across these Swiss Alps in between the castle and where Weevil is hiding.

(I have no commentary for this random bug swarm. I have no idea why this is there. Is this Pegasus? Bakura? Maybe even Weevil? Why would Moths be...whatever)

The duel begins, and there’s some new rules but I dunno if I’ll bother going over it in any great detail, since I just really want to talk about Pharaoh’s pantshoes for a second. Like if you saw someone wearing these pantshoes but for real--not as a cosplay, but like in tight formal pantshoes, what would you call them?

I mean cover up the belt part and they’re just long hooker boots. Cover up the shoes and they’re just very tight shiny pants. These are two sort of maybe-too-sensual-for-Yugioh garments but when you meld them together is it still? Like he’s in Japan so when you go inside the house you take your shoes off, but Pharoah would never be able to, he’d be in his...I don’t know what he wears under there, probably just another set of boots. Underwearboots.

Anyway, when I watched this I also had a theory. Here’s my theory: I’m assuming that Yugi transforming isn’t actually happening--that this is a symbolism of something going on deeper down. He’s not actually getting taller. His voice isn’t actually dropping. Instead this is a very unique take on the Sailor Moon trope. Yes, he has guidance of an ancient spirit living within him but maybe this isn’t ACTUALLY occuring like it is in other anime. It’s just him trying to make up for all his insecurities by letting a “different person” take the wheel so he deosn’t need to feel afraid.

But then his friends acknowledge sometimes that there is a change occuring, dashing my theory to pieces. They shrug it off saying “he’s like another person” but like...did they hear him scream “YUGIOH” on the top of his lungs just now? Or were they mind-wiped the moment that happened? I should stop analyzing this.

And don’t forget this is an actual Pharoah, and given an opportunity he will start preaching condescendingly to his opponents, with gusto, and with maybe too much pride. It’s kind of a lot, but I guess he was on par with Horus or however it worked in Ancient Egypt (like if memory serves, now that he’s dead he switches over to the god Osiris but I don’t remember so don’t quote me. Also it’s Youknow...Yugioh religion. They did not research this.)

Now again, Yugi relies maybe a little too much on that magician card, and so unfortunately, this particular duel is going to go into the next episode. I know he’s going to win but I think the real question is--will Weevil be turned into a human vegetable? We’ll find out soon

Please reply with “Boots” or “pants” I really want to know if you feel he’s wearing more long boots or more footy pants because I’m very much on team boots here.

[floralguccistyles]

wildflower ::  prologue

here’s the thing...

My sister Lily and I had a weird relationship.

From the moment I was born, Lily had been my person. When I had cried, it was her that I wanted and not my mother. She must have spent countless hours curled up on the couch, holding me in her arms. She had only been three at the time, but I was her baby. My mother couldn’t even remember us fighting. Every time there was a toy we both wanted, or I thought Lily’s food looked more appetizing than mine, she always shared. 

In fact, the only time I think we ever argued was when we moved to Ireland and she had met Niall Horan.

My father had gotten a good job in Mullingar, one that he had applied to at the request of one of his friends from college, Bobby Horan. We had moved from Michigan to Ireland when I was only four, Lily seven, and my mother pregnant with our younger sister Violet. Since we didn’t know anyone, Bobby had invited us over for dinner our first night there to introduce us to his family, since he had two sons. Greg was fourteen at the time, and therefore too cool to hang out with us little kids. His brother, the only sole reason Lily and I had ever fought, was seven.

This meant he and Lily were instant friends.

I wasn’t jealous of Lily for making a new friend so soon after the move. I wouldn’t be going to school for another year, and therefore I probably wouldn’t have any friends until I did. Besides, I would have baby Violet to look after soon. More so, I was jealous of Niall. Lily had never had anyone else to take her attention away from me. Now there was suddenly another person in our little duo, something I didn’t like too much.

So I had screamed and told Niall I hated him. Which, in turn, made Lily call me spoiled. Lily had never dared to call me spoiled. I’m pretty sure my mother’s jaw dropped when the words left Lily’s mouth. They were entirely true and looking back, I was rather a spoiled brat, but hearing Lily say something negative against me had made me burst into tears.

I had apologized to Niall almost immediately. Anything to get that look of disappointment out of Lily’s eyes.

And thus concluded my argument with Lily and started my respect and hesitant friendship with Niall Horan.

We were never as close as he and Lily. As we grew and went through school, the two of them were glued at the hip. He helped her with homework and she encouraged him to try out for the soccer team (I could hear Niall correcting me, “footie, Rose, you aren’t in America anymore!”). They stayed up for hours talking on the phone and texting about people from school. I had never seen two people click more than they did. One would never see Lily Fairbrough without Niall Horan and vice versa.

Which was why I wasn’t surprised when I woke up, hungover and bleary eyed in Lily’s apartment, to a grinning Niall Horan standing over me.

“Morning, Rosebud!” His voice was entirely too cheery for the morning. I blinked against the sun shining behind him, groaned, and proceeded to throw my body back against Lily’s couch, tossing a pillow over my face. His laugh, one of the most familiar sounds in the world to me, filtered through my ears. “Rough night, huh?”

“Can you...lower your volume?” I whispered, pleading.

“I’m whispering, Rosebud.”

“No you aren’t. You’re, like… incapable of whispering,” I countered.

He gave me approximately five seconds to wallow in my self-pity before he gently moved the pillow from my face. I was pouting at him, lower lip jutted out in a way I knew he couldn’t resist. If there was one thing Niall Horan was incredibly terrible at, it was resisting the Fairbrough puppy dog eyes. He was a sucker for it every time. 

��Don’t give me those big brown eyes, Rosebud. I got you coffee,” he said, and it was only then that I noticed the cup he had in his hands. His finger was hiding the writing on the cup, but I knew once he moved it, I would find his scribbled handwriting. It was something he did when I was still in college and crying at two in the morning because I had to study for finals. He would drop by with a coffee and a sweet little message on the cup, like you can do this, Rosebud! or you’ll kick the arses of these finals! Even though I was two years out of college, he still liked writing those little notes on the cups.

“Brought you coffee and not me,” the sweet voice of my sister said from the kitchen. I blearily pulled the upper half of my body into a sitting position and saw her, standing at her breakfast bar and preparing an egg sandwich. She was ready for work, hair in perfect ringlets and makeup done to perfection. For the moment, she worked as an assistant in a Dublin attorney firm, but the second she finished up law school, I knew she would get her own practice. There wasn’t much that could stop Lily when she set her mind to it.

“That’s because I’m getting you lunch,” Niall commented. He worked across the street from her firm at the college there as the athletics director. Not a day went by that Niall didn’t buy or bring Lily lunch, because that’s just the kind of guy that he was. 

Also, he was madly in love with Lily Fairbrough.

This was common knowledge among the Fairbrough-Horan clan. Ever since their first meeting, my mother and Niall’s had basically been planning their wedding. I think Maura had a heart attack every time Niall kissed Lily’s cheek, and my father cried whenever Lily looped her arm through Niall’s. It was such a sure thing that we had all made bets on when the two of them would stop ignoring their feelings and end up together. 

As I had bet on Christmas 2021, I was hoping it would be soon.

“True,” she said, coming around from the breakfast bar and giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll never starve with you around.” She thrust the breakfast sandwich in my direction. I would like to say that I did not devour it like a hungry bear coming out of hibernation, but that would have been a lie.

Niall handed me my coffee obediently when I made grabby hands in its direction. Now that I could see his little note, I eagerly read it. Even with horrific drunk morning breath, you look beautiful, Rosebud! I narrowed my eyes at him and he let out a true belly-laugh, holding his stomach while I took a sip. He magically knew my coffee order, like he had for the past fifteen years of my life. If Lily didn’t exist, Niall Horan was definitely the person who knew me better than I knew myself.

“You ready, Lil?” Niall asked, standing from the couch and wiping his trousers for any crumbs that might have stuck there. Unlike Lily, Niall didn’t have to get too dressed up for his job, but he was still clad in a sky blue button down and dress pants. I thought it was hilarious that the two of them had accidentally coordinated outfits, since Lily was wearing a blazer that was about the same color as his button down, but that’s what soulmates did. They bought each other lunch, wore matching outfits, and took their sweet time getting together even though their younger siblings bet money on their relationship.

“Yep.” With her briefcase in hand, Lily leaned down to flick me in the forehead. It was gentle enough to not hurt, but I was hungover and therefore groaned. “You can stay on the couch as long as you’d like, but you’ve got to get up eventually. If you make a mess in the kitchen, clean it up. Ni and I will be home around ten to six for dinner.”

“Is Niall cooking?” I asked, mouth full of egg sandwich. 

“I can if you want, Rosebud,” he answered, reaching his finger out. He quickly swiped his thumb across my chin, where I was sure bits of English muffin were sticking. “You want steak and potatoes?”

“You know me so well,” I replied, giving him a bright smile. “Have fun at work. I make no promises that I won’t spend your money and rent ten movies.”

“I figured,” Lily replied, “We’ll be home later then since we’ll stop by the grocery store later to get dinner stuff.”

I held my hands out and Lily grabbed them to lift me off the couch. It was silly and childish, but I couldn’t let Lily go to work without giving her a hug. It had been that way since she had been sixteen with her first job, and it was that way now. She smiled and pulled me into her embrace, squeezing me close in the way only she could. There were few things that meant more to me than hugging Lily. 

“Where’s my hug, Rosebud? I’m hurt and offended,” Niall pouted, jutting his lower lip out much like I had moments ago. Rolling my eyes, I moved away from Lily and threw my arms around his neck.

Few things meant more to me than hugging Lily, but hugging Niall was up there.

Niall Horan was an amazing hugger. The first time he had hugged me, I think I had nearly fainted. Not because I had feelings for him or anything, but because his hugs were like puppies and unicorns wrapped into the embrace of a single person. The second my arms came around his neck, his came around my waist and he was pulling me closer to him, squeezing me tightly but not tight enough to be painful. Since I was significantly shorter than him, he lifted me up slightly so my feet left the ground. I was pretty sure I was getting egg on his shirt, but he never cared. 

In reality, Lily and Niall were both too good for me.

“There, whiner. You happy now?” I asked, my face squished in his shoulder. I was glad I wasn’t wearing makeup so I wouldn’t smudge it on the pretty blue material. I felt him laugh, his shoulders shaking and I pulled away so his muscles wouldn’t bump my nose at an awkward angle. It was then that I noticed his eyes, bright and shining and so incredibly blue that it could have taken someone’s breath away.

Lily sure was a lucky girl.

“That color looks good on you, Ni,” I mentioned offhandedly and I pulled away from him even more. “Brings out your eyes.”

“A compliment of the highest order from the Rosebud.” His cheeks went pink, despite his joke, like they always did. Niall always went pink when I complimented him, like he wasn’t used to it. “See you later,” he promised, giving my shoulder one more squeeze before he and Lily linked hands. It sent my heart aflutter with the butterflies of someone who had six hundred dollars riding on simple gestures like this one. 

The two of them left Lily’s apartment while I took a long and deep gulp of the coffee Niall had brought me. And then I promptly flung myself back onto Lily’s couch.

Once upon a time, I hadn’t lived with Lily in her apartment. I had graduated college, gotten a posh job as a sales representative at a jewelry store, and had a small studio of my own. That was before my boss decided he wanted to offer a raise in exchange for sex, and I had kneed him in the groin so hard I was pretty sure he’d never have kids again. The funny thing about kneeing your boss, though, was that he would inevitably fire you. I had a sexual harassment claim that had been processed and sent to human resources that provided me with enough money to keep myself afloat for approximately six months. 

It had been a year.

Now, I worked as the front desk receptionist at a hotel. It wasn’t my dream job by any means, since I was genuinely great at selling things, but it was enough for now. But I was still childishly afraid to sleep on my own, in a studio apartment quite close to the jewelry store. Though I had gotten compensation pay, my boss hadn’t gotten fired. Just a slap on the wrist. And for some reason, when I was alone in my studio at night, I imagined him getting drunk and paying me a visit. 

When I had told Lily of these fears, she had demanded I move in with her until I found a place of my own. Lily was just good in that way. No one was perfect, of that I knew. But if anyone came close, it was my sister. 

Knowing that my sister was generous beyond belief, I did try to keep my presence in her apartment not well known. Which meant that because I had spilled copious amounts of crumbs on her couch while eating my breakfast, I would get out the vacuum and clean them all up. I also saw that she hadn’t had time to clean the pan she had fried the egg in, so I vowed to do that as well.

As soon as I moved from the couch.

Just as I was mustering the will to move, I heard my phone buzz. It was still on the coffee table, where I had tossed it last night before flopping onto Lily’s couch. I had my own room, but apparently drunk and stumbling Rose couldn’t make it through the small hallway Lily had in her apartment. Lifting it gingerly (and hoping there were no cracks in it), I opened up the text message from my younger sister, Violet.

I want in on the Niall and Lily bet.

I eyed the text message for a moment, completely flummoxed. Violet was no stranger to the inner workings of Lily and Niall’s friendship, but she had never really taken an interest like the rest of our family had. To her, it wouldn’t matter if Lily and Niall stayed friends forever or if they got married tomorrow. As long as Lily was happy, Violet would be happy. 

Do you even have a hundred bucks? I texted back, still a little hungover and confused.

Unlike you, I can properly save. 

My nose crinkled. While Lily and I had never fought, Violet and I were more stereotypical sisters. Meaning I’d die for her in a heartbeat, but if she stole my lipstick I’d kick the shit out of her. 

Fine twerp. What’s your bet?

It took her less than a second to text back.

They’re not going to end up together. It’s obvious they don’t fancy each other.

I snorted. Violet, while twenty years old and a very smart college student, was making a huge mistake. Quite a way to waste a hundred bucks, Vi. You’re on.

Lily and Niall were endgame. That’s all there was to it.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Footie 4

Previously on Footie

The apartment down on Saint James Place was a modern dream. Much too large for the single inhabitant, it was tucked on the top floor and full of windows that caught the sun as it came up over the river and city. It was a perfect hideaway in an old part of town, and solely because of its proximity to the stadium, did someone buy it, sight unseen.

But the big windows, the space, the kitchen-- it all felt like home the moment she stepped inside. It was the perfect place to spend a day, and it’d been freshly cleaned for the off chance that a visitor wanted to come over.

The thing about mornings was, that no matter how late she got to sleep in her giant, perfect, pillow-smothered bed, Lexa couldn’t stay in much past the sun. It was exceptionally annoying for someone who frequently suffered jet lag. It was even more annoying for someone who bought expensive black out curtains and who did her best to sleep in late.

Even with the girl in her bed, Lexa found herself unable to sleep. She fell asleep of course, naked and sore and with a smile plastered on her lips with her arms around Clarke. She fell asleep with her lips on a bare shoulder and the feeling of warmth and a breathing, beautiful human keeping her company and lulling her toward dreams.

But it didn’t matter.

Lexa woke up without an alarm around seven, and spent a good chunk of time realizing she had a girl in her bed. And she didn’t want to wake her. But there was a girl in her bed and Lexa couldn’t stop smiling, and she couldn’t stop fidgeting, so she slipped out of the sheets and gently shut the door behind her. Because there was a girl. Sleeping. In her bed. And she wanted that the be a true sentence for as long as possible.

Normally, Lexa ran. She ran a lot. She ran all over the place. She ran so much she got lost and had to ask strangers for directions because it was suddenly an unfamiliar part of town. But she couldn’t very well leave a stranger in her place, and she couldn’t make a noise, and so she was stuck with an alarming amount of energy and no way to burn it off while she thought about Clarke.

Lexa brewed the coffee and had a piece of fruit as she mulled over her night. The memories made her too jittery though with remembering the noises Clarke made. And the way she cursed and clung and clutched and came. She was perfect and she was wonderful, and Lexa was pumping the brakes in her own head because she was caught up in the feeling of it all, and that scared her.

To distract herself from that, Lexa made herself workout. It didn’t stop the thoughts though. But still, she pushed aside the coffee table and went about stretching and going over it a million times in her head.

There was a pretty girl asleep in her bed, and Lexa wasn’t sure what came next except that she would be okay with it happening more often, which was not a thought she thought she’d have again.

Somewhere between her fifth or sixth circuit, Lexa gave up to the fate of it all and kept doing crunches with a smile. She didn’t notice the girl with the long legs poking out from her old practice shirt for a few moments. So lost in thought about how perfect her life was slowly and finally becoming, was Lexa, that she had to do a double take and flopped to the ground.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Lexa grunted, pushing herself up. “Did I wake you?”

“Unfortunately not,” Clarke yawned. “It’s a Saturday. Why are you awake and sweaty already without me?”

“Did you want to join me? We could go for a run.”

She earned a smirk and a shake of a head, messy blonde hair pushed back into a mess on top of her head. Clarke was the girl of her dreams.

“You give a girl a complex sneaking out of bed.”

From her spot on the ground, Lexa frowned and watched as this girl-- the girl from her bed-- how she walked around the living room. Hips swayed so naturally it was hypnotizing.

“Did you sleep okay? I made coffee.”

“I’ll have some,” she promised. “How long have you been up?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“About two hours then,” Lexa figured, squinting slightly.

Thighs glided around the room and stood in front of the girl working out on the floor. They spread and straddled her until there was a beautiful girl, right on Lexa’s lap, and she still didn’t really know what to do with that.

“I would have trained you myself had you stayed in bed.”

Lexa moved her hands to Clarke’s hips. She liked her hips. She liked the warm little fuzzy feeling she got in her chest that crept up her neck when she saw Clarke.

“You are going to kill me.”

“Good morning,” she smiled.

“You look cute in the morning.”

“Only in the morning?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Lexa chuckled, earning a scowl until she kissed Clarke. “But also when you wear my jersey,” she kissed her again. “And when you smile. And when you laugh. And when you explain things to me. And when you steal food off my plate.”

“I’m too sneaky for you to notice.”

“That’s true.”

“You’re all sweaty,” Clarke complained as lips moved to her neck.

“You’re going to have to get used to that. I’m pretty much always sweaty.”

“That’s not true. I always see you when you’re freshly showered after the games.”

All Lexa could do was smile and shrug. She knew Clarke wasn’t complaining because there were hands skating along her abs and up her shoulders and against her neck as hips settled harder onto her own.

“Thanks for spending the night.”

“Thanks for having me over,” Clarke hummed, pulling back finally.

Tangled on the floor of Lexa’s big, old apartment, tucked at the top corner of her building that overlooked the stadium and the river and the city, the two smiled and blushed despite the position and the activities of the night before.

“Do you have any plans today?”

“Lunch at my parents. You?”

“Drinks with some of the team.”

“Would you want to spend the morning with me?”

“So much,” Lexa nodded.

“Good date?”

“Great date.”

“You’re agreeable in the mornings,” Clarke grinned, adjusting herself. “Last night you asked me to meet your family.”

“I did.”

“Did you mean it?”

With a deep breath, she finally nodded. It was no small thing, but they’d made it a few months, and they were doing something that felt so good and right, that Lexa did believe in it. She saw the signs that her mother always warned her about, she opened herself up to the world, completely on accident, and it paid dividends.

“Honestly, Anya probably won’t leave until she meets you. Might as well as do it on my terms.”

“So you’ve talked to her about me?”

“All of the time. She’s incredibly annoyed by it, I’m positive,” Lexa shrugged again. “But yeah. I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I’d like to introduce you.”

“So you can get her opinion before it gets too serious?” Clarke teased.

From the way she looked at Lexa’s lips and back to her eyes, from the way she smiled just slightly enough, but didn’t hide the little bit of truth to it. Lexa was too afraid to think such things, but she fell in love right there, with the teacher with the messy hair who was not that quiet when she came who baked great muffins and terrible cookies, who was abashed enough to be nervous about the state of their relationship despite straddling someone half naked.

“I don’t need her approval. If anything, it’s all up to Mia anyway.”

“I’m pretty good with kids.”

Before Lexa could say anything else, her phone began to vibrate. Lexa groaned because all she wanted to do was finish her work out with Clarke.

“Who calls you this early?” Clarke wondered, stretching to reach for it, earning hands squeezing her ass.

“I don’t care who. I have a half-naked girl on top of me.”

“Could be a billion dollar endorsement deal.”

“They can keep it,” she grumbled, laying back on the ground and slipping her hands up Clarke’s ribs as she stretched.

“Well, look at that. It’s your sister.”

“Definitely ignore it. She’ll understand.”

“She’ll understand you didn’t want to talk to her because of being naked with me? No way am I starting out on that foot,” Clarke decided, settling back down on Lexa. “I’m going to pick it up and you’ll talk to her. I’ll work on breakfast.”

“No-- no no no--” Lexa groaned and closed her eyes.

“Hi, Lexa’s phone. She’s a bit tied down at the moment, so I picked up for her,” Clarke greeted whoever was on the other line. “Anya? Her sister? Hi. Yes, Clarke.”

“Just hang up. You’ll meet her soon enough.”

“She is complaining right now,” she chuckled into the phone, covering Lexa’s mouth with a free hand. “No no, it’s late where you are. You chat with her. I’m going to go make breakfast.”

“Wmmophmmphmmph.”

“Same to you. Have a good night.”

In a second, the phone was handed over and her mouth freed. Two seconds later, the weight left her lap and Lexa was left in the same position she’d been when Clarke woke up -- sweaty and aching and alone.

“Hey, Anya. We were just talking about you,” Lexa muttered.

Lexa pushed herself up slightly onto an elbow to watch legs walk around the couch and head toward the coffee.

“I am so happy that a beautiful, leggy blonde answered your phone. Finally,” her sister all but cheered and celebrated. She might have been happier than Lexa, though that seemed impossible.

“Me too.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am.”

“I have to meet her, you know that, right?”

In the kitchen, Clarke didn’t pay attention at all. She poured a cup of coffee and filled up Lexa’s once again before digging into the fridge for some kind of sustenance. Lexa just watched and smiled to herself.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I just called to check up on you, but you’re clearly busy. Call me this week sometime, when you’re alone, okay?”

“Alright.”

“I love you, kid.”

“Love you too.”

Clarke hummed a tune as Lexa tossed her phone onto the couch. It was morning and she was on pace to break a single season scoring record and there was a pretty girl cooking breakfast without pants on. For a moment, she forgot even how to be sad.

The house on the end of the lane across town sat happily in the drizzle toward the end of winter. The Christmas lights were still blinking in the fog and the rain with the chill in the air that remained and refused to leave quite yet. It sat, just as it always had, full of warm lights and people.

“Pretty good turnout,” Octavia nudged her friend as they crowded around the television in the ancestral home.

“I know. I didn’t expect everyone to actually come. Must be the weather.”

The banner that hung in the dining room reminded everyone that it was a birthday, if the hats and the balloons and the cake weren’t enough. Clarke smiled as she surveyed the living room that was stacked with their friends, all celebrating her father. It even surprised him to have so many people who wanted to spend time wishing him well.

It didn’t hurt that there was a game on that he wanted to watch, nor did it bother him that he had  captive audience to couch coach.

“How’s he been?”

“Better. Treatments are working they think.”

“That’s good, right?” Octavia asked as she sipped her drink.

Both stood there and gazed at the coach as he explained something that was happening. He waved his hands around and debated with an old colleague over something that happened forever ago, and was clearly better than whatever was happening now.

“I think days like this help.”

“Have you told him you’re dating his new favorite player?”

“Not yet,” Clarke furrowed and sipped her drink. “I promised him I’d never date another footballer.”

“That’s crazy. Doesn’t he know you’re destined to marry someone just like your father?”

“Please don’t ever say that again.”

“Clarke! Honey, did you see that?” Jake interrupted the impending joke Octavia was ready to crack at her friend’s expense. “That Woods. She’s a genius. The physics of that shot!”

“Looks like someone is crushing on your girl,” Octavia whispered.

“What is that, her first assist after already having two goals?” he beamed. “You know she wanted the hat trick. Still might get it. You don’t see players mad at not having a shot like her. Just look. That’s the part you have to see to determine the players skill.”

Clarke took the chance to look at the screen and watch a blue jersey that was identical to the one she was wearing, jog across the pitch. Even with the stellar game, Clarke spent enough time with the soccer player to see the frustration from her bad shot. It would probably weigh on her more than the goals she scored for some reason.

“I guess she’s pretty good,” Clarke agreed, hiding her blush in her drink.

“In bed,” Octavia whispered, earning an elbow.

“If I had a player like that when I coached, I’d have won every game.”

Someone raised their voice to argue with him and Clarke stared back at the screen. She took a second to send off a text to the player on the field, telling her how impressive she was.

For the past two months, it’d been a nice give and take. Clarke spent the night a few times, Lexa stayed at her’s a few more, and they got acquainted. Lexa liked to help Clarke grade assignments and enter them into her book. She liked to cook and complain about cleaning up. She liked to stretch out across Clarke’s smaller bed and rest with her head in the teacher’s lap while she read her book. The little parts of it all was perfect, and Clarke found herself getting used to it, even with the prolonged absences and Lexa’s travel schedule.

Watching her run around on the field, Clarke smiled to herself and ached slightly. She missed the soccer player. With another thought about it, she sent a final text that told her she was impressed, that her father was impressed, and that her bed was getting cold because it was empty.

“I thought it’d be closer,” Jake chuckled. “This team always surprises me.”

“Are you going to let her meet the parents?” Octavia asked, surveying the blush on her friend’s face.

“That’s a big step.”

“You met a superstar soccer player on accident and you frequently spend the night at her penthouse. It’s been like four months.”

“We’re comfortable. I don’t want anything to change.”

“I haven’t seen you happy in a while. I like it.”

“You like tickets to the game,” Clarke corrected with a wry grin as she finished her drink and earned a chuckle. “I’m going to get a refill. Keep an eye on him.”

“He’s in his glory. Let him have it.”

With a final look at Lexa sprinting down the field, Clarke moved toward the back of the house and wondered if they weren’t moving too fast as well.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Lexa hummed. “Let me smell your neck.”

“Stop!” Clark giggled as a nose rooted around beneath her ear and lips followed, tickling her earnestly.

“I can’t. You smell so good. You are all warm and cozy. I like you in the bath.”

“If you weren’t so sweaty all of the time, we could spend time out of the bathtub.”

“That’s not an incentive,” Lexa growled.

She let her hands slip around the soapy skin of Clarke’s stomach. She kissed her neck again and rested her chin on her shoulder, the sticky wet wisps of hair tickling her cheek.

“How’s your knee? I saw all of the tape. Is it still sore?”

“It is a little. It’ll be fine.”

“Your legs are so long,” Clarke observed, settling back deeper against Lexa’s chest and chasing water droplets up and down the leg that poked above the bubbles.

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, letting her head lean back against the tub, suddenly very happy with the penthouse’s much too big bathroom that she didn’t usually use.

“This scar is so pretty.”

Fingers moved along Lexa’s knee to the familiar cuts and raised pink skin of the scars on her body. She shook her head and chuckled slightly.

“No one ever says that about scars.”

“I do. I like them.”

Fingers rubbed at the soreness that was almost ever-present. Lexa didn’t want to, but she knew she could grow used to the feeling of it. There was a certain weight to Clarke’s hand. A warmth that existed beneath the water.

“You’re a peculiar one, Griffin.”

Lexa earned a hum of agreement as Clarke shifted lower in the water. She held Lexa’s knee and adjusted her legs to be more comfortable, but she didn’t ever move her hand. It felt too good and she was so tired from the past few weeks of traveling. She missed the feeling of Clarke.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

“Yeah, a few weeks,” Lexa grumbled, her arms wrapping tighter. “International rotation before playoffs. Are you going to root for me?”

“Of course I am.”

“Are you going to miss me?”

“I always miss you.”

“Getting attached?”

“Quite.”

Clarke smiled and kissed Lexa’s arm.

Candles hummed to themselves on the counters and in the bedroom, and not a light could be seen other than the golden glow of them. The rest of the penthouse was dark, with the faint lights of the city outside burning and shimmering against the river in the distance.

“So I have an event I have to go to in a few weeks, and I could use a date,” Lexa remembered. “I was hoping you’d know someone.”

“You want me to meet your family and go out with you?”

“I know. I’m being too needy, aren’t I?” Lexa sighed, smiling against Clarke’s hair. “I can tone it back, if you’d like.”

“Well, it’s all a bit of fate, isn’t it?”

“I’m impatient. You know this.”

“Lexa, I like you.”

“Thank goodness. I’d hate to think that you’d use me, just for my tub.”

“If anything, I’m using you just for sex. It’s a hike up here from my place. Very inconvenient.”

“But the tub though,” Lexa chuckled, kissing neck again.

“I’d love to go with you. But don’t you take a vacation?”

“Things will quiet down in… um…” Lexa remembered all of her responsibilities and endorsements and other duties as captain and someone who trained twenty-four seven. “Well, they never really quiet down, but I hope it’s worth it.”

“We should get out. The water is going to get cold.”

“We can get out, but I’m not going to put clothes on,” she stated, petulant and stubborn.

“Good.”

Lexa watched Clarke stand up. She watched the suds and the water drip off of her as she leaned over the edge and grabbed her towel. Lexa lingered in the water for a moment as the towel hid many wonderful things she enjoyed looking at.

“You’ll be my date then?”

“Oh, Lexa,” Clarke sighed. “I’ll be your date whenever you want. Have your people call my people to set it up.”

“It took a lot of courage to ask you, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because I like you a lot.”

“Good. I make an excellent date.”

“This means we’d be out in public, together.”

“No more blind dates for you.” Clarke leaned over the tub and kissed Lexa’s forehead. “Get out or you’ll turn into a prune.”

“You took my towel.”

“Guess  you’ll have to come and get it,” she shrugged, backing out of the bathroom.

In a splash and a mess of water, Lexa hopped out and chased her girlfriend.

Next

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

i’ve talked on several posts about how PE lessons impacted me in school, especially since i have a developmental coordination condition (hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder). this condition gave me bad fine and gross motor skills. obviously sport focused more on the gross motor than the fine motor skills.but anyway. let’s proceed.

my condition made me clumsy and practically awful at all sports, including but obviously not limited to the following high school PE class sports: basketball, netball, cricket, baseball/tee ball, volley ball, dodge ball/poison ball/bin ball- you name it. i was fucking terrible at it. mainly because i struggled with catching balls and other factors that would control a ball.

when it came to a basketball game, for example, i would frequently “double dribble” the ball bc i was too clumsy to “dribble” the ball with one hand. but you know what that got me from teachers? team point penalties. one particular male teacher literally SCREAMING at me every time that i was “JUST TOO LAZY” to do it properly and that “YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR TEAM??? HOW DARE YOU!!!!”.... and then that same teacher would tell people when picking teams to “pick her last because she’ll make the team lose! do you really want that???” this was the same teacher that told me that “if you can’t catch a ball, then you can’t get a job!” in year 7, when i failed “catching a ball” part of the stupid fucking “coordination skills test” assessment we had that year. like why the FUCK would you fucking tell that to a goddamned 12/13 year old kid????? that the only route in life to success is sport??? like what the fuck.

when it came to contact ball sports like dodgeball/poison ball/bin ball, I’d cheer as I walked off the field/court when I was marked “out” of the game bc i was hit by a ball. like that should be seen as a positive thing, bc im no longer being fucking pummelled by balls that sometimes leave bruises even though they’re soft, if some people throw them hard enough. but I was fucking screamed at unanimously by every teacher not to do that bc of the stupid “care about your team only” sentiment. the only fun contact ball sport was oztag which was is an aussie form of touch football (footy) where you wear velcro belts with velcroed tags on them, that you then have to take off somehow from someone’s belt to get the ball or whatever it was. I found this funny bc at least one dude would get his pants pulled down for shits & giggles. but then again it was anothe forcefully competitive game, so I didn’t like it that much.

other sports i struggled with were strength sports like shot-put and discus, due to another factor of my condition (surprise, surprise!), which is low muscle tone. with these two sports, the items themselves were too heavy for me to hold and throw at the same time. did the teachers care? no. every time we did these two activities i was forced to do them with my class, despite my pleas to let me sit out bc i couldn’t do discus and shot put bc they were heavy sports for me and I HAD MEDICAL EVIDENCE IN THE OFFICE FOR IT etc. but again, no. I got told “everyone must learn this sport.” uh, no. it’s not a fucking essential life skill mr. kilderson. it’s not like i’ll go to a job interview at any point in my life, and they’ll just suddenly ask me to throw a fucking discus disc or a weighted shot put ball thing. just. fuck off. let me sit out bc it could injure me, for fucks sake.

for track. don’t even fucking start me on fucking track sports like relays and cross country running. this was where my teachers would push me the most to be a possible/hopeful student athlete.... based solely on the fact that im the right build for a track runner. being small and slender and all. but again, i fucking hated track sports too. i didn’t have the fuckin stamina to run for 200m in relays, let alone fucking k’s and k’s and k’s of cross country running.

but again, my teachers didnt fucking care about that. instead, they got angry at me for “NOT PUSHING YOURSELF HARD ENOUGH!!!!! WHY THE HELL DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HOUSE TEAM’S POINTS???? YOU SELFISH GIRL!!!! CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING TEAM!!!!’ no. no i fucking won’t care about my stupid so-called house team if they’re going to treat me like you do, mr cadwaller. (ok obvs the teacher didn’t say “fucking” at all. that’s just there for emphasis lmao.)

the only thing that some track sports gave me was some bullshit 2nd/3rd ribbons....and, oh, the fucking irony here- the “well done” participation ribbons- that every baby boomer says make the millennial or gen z (idek im a 95 baby lmao) kids “weak cry babies who beg for validation and participation trophies.” you can shove those fucking condescending and useless white ribbons up your goddamned saggy ass, gertrude. well and fucking truly. because the mixed look of distaste and disappointment that i always got from my teachers when they saw that i’d gotten a “well done” ribbon instead of a fucking 1st-3rd place ribbon, was fucking hurtful to a 5-12 year old kid in primary etc school. they scolded me each time, telling me, as usual that “YOU DIDN’T TRY HARD ENOUGH!!!!!” when i showed them those stupid fucking well done ribbons.

when it came to cross country runs, i basically made myself come last in them during primary/elementary/grade school because i was close friends with a girl in my year that couldn’t run properly; because she was born without kneecaps. but that also made my teachers angry because of the whole bs “PUSHING YOURSELF TO YOUR PHYSICAL LIMITS!!!!” and other forced competitiveness rhetoric that sports teachers/coordinators spat at me. the same happened in high school when I bothered to attend cross country carnivals.

the forced competitiveness rhetoric is what made me FUCKING TERRIFIED of sports and especially team sports both in school..... and right now, well into my 20s. it’s made me scared of going to fitness gyms and classes/groups, bc i find personal trainers to be reminders of the bullying and harassing PE teachers that I had throughout school. literally the only two sports that I enjoyed in school were gymnastics and yoga, both because I could show everyone how flexible I was, and because they were the ONLY TWO FUCKING SPORTS that weren’t forced to be competitive.

yoga was taught calmly by a whacked out yoga instructor called wolfgang- who always complimented my “lotus pose” (the legs crossed one for meditating lol) bc i could do the feet over leg thing juuust right..... and then he constantly made me the centre of attention bc i was as flexible as he was, and I could hold the poses better than anyone in my friday sport group. even after class people would ask me how i couldnbend so effortlessly (thanks double jointed-ness/slight hyper-mobility) to touch my toes in idek the warrior pose (???) or whatever, for an example.

gymnastics also wasn’t competitive bc no one did gymnastics, bar my one friend who was a cheerleader and a gymnastics coach at her aunt’s gymnastics gym (that the catholic school I was at actually used for friday sport). again, I was complimented by some of the instructors- and sometimes envied by people in my sports group- because I was flexible enough to do some of the stuff in the gym... and also bc i had a short stint in actual competitive gymnastics/gymnastics training when o was in primary etc school.

there was also self defence (i forgot lmao).... which was a great class and another fave, bc I could actually see the real practicality of learning self-defence moves. unfortunately, the main setback of this class was that our instructor guy was godawfully sexist and ableist etc. but my friend who was a red or black belt instructor at her karate school by that time (year 9 or year 10/2010-2011). so, she soon set him right- by chopping through a whole pile of wooden boards one day (with a sprained wrist from grading two weeks earlier to boot) to prove his sexist remark that “girls/women can never succeed in karate/other self defence sports bc they’re purely made for men”- proving him to be completely and utterly wrong. she hit him with so much force that he literally fell straight to the floor. it was so fucking gratifying that the whole class stared in awe for a few seconds and then clapped (actual true story!!!).

so after the above happened, she then taught the class properly along with him. but again this class wasn’t competitive (and I also got to punch out some stress lmao). my only setback here was that I consistently punched wrong (thumb in and not thumb out). but overall, I fucking loved self-defence classes bc i didn’t have to compete and again- i was learning practical skills I could use in a dangerous situation- if I ever got into one.

but yeah. my number one gripe with school sports was that they were so heavily forced to be competitive and the toxic fucking competitiveness rhetoric- that turns some kids angry and violent in sports lessons or makes some kids think that it’s the olympics/NBA etc and not a fucking PE class- made me fucking loathe & despise sport so fucking deeply- that i still loathe and despise and fear it to this very fucking day in my mid 20s.

like I still have the image of the time two kids in my half of the year in 2008 or 2010, throwing up outside of the gym at catholic school..... bc they’d pushed themselves to the fucking highest level in the beep/pacer test level 15/15.... kinda partly on their will- but mostly on the will of the teachers who kept screaming at them to “GO FURTHER AND PUSH YOURSELF!!!!” and then would pointedly sneer at me bc I’d dropped out super early in the pacer/beep test, on purpose mostly, and also bc i didn’t want to go further than the lowest 1:1 level (walking lol) of this bs “test”.

like how the FUCK is that not abuse on some level??? pushing kids till they fucking throw up???? I don’t care if those kids were used to it; bc they were junior surf life savers and/or on the school’s dioscean (or however the fuck they spelt it lmao) cross country team winning medals on all levels from regional to national comps. expecting (and congratulating) kids to go to the point of fucking T H R O W I N G U P in a pacer test is fucking stupid as fuck. I don’t give a fuck about “endurance” and all the bullshit that they talked about with that so-called test. just fuck off. bc to me that’s bullying at its finest and highest example.

so yeah. I fucking hate sport. it’s what really heavily contributed to my low self-esteem through nearly the entirety (i didn’t have to do sport in years 11/12 thank FUCK) of my school years. the only solace I had in sport/PE classes was refusing to take my uniform on PE class days from years 7-10 at catholic school (long dumb story about uniform rules that needs it’s own post for explanation tbh).... and some of the nicer semi-competitive kids who would at least give me one try with making a shot into the hoop or something in basket/net ball or even a goal shot in soccer... or maybe wouldn’t pick me last- despite those bitter PE teachers advice.

be fucking N I C E to kids with motor problems or any other learning disabilities/problems etc in sport 2020, kids.

the older i get the weirder it is that not a single p.e. teacher in my entire school career was able to recognize the difference between “a child who doesn’t get enough exercise” and “a child with serious health problems impeding their ability to exercise in this particular way”

[topfygad]

Say What?! British Slang and Phrases

We’re in all probability all aware of one thing being smashing at this level. (As in, this weblog is smashing.)

The utilization of slang phrases all over the world will be very amusing to these not within the know. There’s one thing uncanny about listening to a phrase, career, or object you’re aware of being referred to in a brand new manner.

In England, there’s an notorious Cockney Rhyming Slang that was invented by market merchants and avenue retailers and was in all probability first used to disguise what was being mentioned from passers-by. Cockney Slang makes use of language in one of the vital fascinating methods, by rhyming with what you imply however substituting completely different (and dissimilar) phrases. For instance, “I’m Hank Marvin!” interprets to “I’m ravenous” and apples and pears to stairs.

Nevertheless, relying on the place you might be in England, colloquialisms or slang might differ, or be a utterly completely different kettle of fish.  In the event you go as far north as Newcastle, you would possibly hear somebody name themselves clamming, for ravenous or confer with a set of stairs as dancers. 

Learn on to learn how to make use of phrases like “This climate is pants” or what your British aunt means by telling you “It’s parky on the market!” when she visits on her subsequent vacation.

Don’t be such a wind-up service provider

Interpretation: I is perhaps foolish and a bit gullible, however please cease teasing me!

Don’t get shirty with me

Interpretation: The individual you’re speaking to is getting aggravated and also you’re in all probability not completely happy about it. Consider sassy, bad-tempered, and a bit aggravated.

Play some footie

Interpretation: Once you’re going to go play some soccer, as in soccer, as in soccer.

Having outdated chinwag

Interpretation: Once you’re having an excellent chat with buddies, greater than probably with some gossip concerned.

To be an anorak

Interpretation: You’re such a geek or nerd. Breaking this one down a bit, it means an individual who has a really sturdy curiosity, maybe a bit obsessive, in area of interest topics.

Gobsmacked

Interpretation: Once you’re completely surprised or stunned and end up at a whole loss for phrases. This makes a bit extra sense when you already know that the phrase gob is slang for mouth.  Then, take this as a reference to being shocked by a blow to the mouth, or to clapping your hand to your mouth in astonishment.

All the things has gone all pear-shaped!

Interpretation: All of these well-laid plans have gone terribly, terribly awry. Principally, this implies every little thing has gone unsuitable. Perhaps the plans began as apple formed?

I’m knackered

Interpretation: You’re so exhausted you can’t do the rest. Really, this one has a little bit of a darkish previous because it derives from the slang phrase knacker which implies to kill. So, while you’ve utterly drained out or simply can’t go on, you’re knackered!

Newtons

Interpretation: Cockney Slang referring to Newton Heath, an space of Manchester, England. This phrase is a kind of enjoyable rhyming ones…are you able to guess? Okay, right here’s a touch: What if we instructed our kiddos to, “Stand up these apples and pears & brush your Newtons since you have to be simply knackered by now!”

I’m quids in

Interpretation: Discovering your self in a really favorable or advantageous place or while you stand to make some huge cash from a guess or enterprise enterprise. In the event you gained the lotto, you’d most undoubtedly be quids in.

Skint

Interpretation: Opposite to being quids in you can too be skint which implies to be broke or out of luck. It’s also possible to ask somebody for some money, let’s say when you overlook your pockets, by asking them in the event that they’ve bought any dosh? (Quids in = flush with it, skint = broke, dosh = so broke you’re borrowing from your folks. )

It’s parky out

Interpretation: It’s very chilly out, placed on a sweater.

A Bobby or Dibble 

Interpretation: Corresponding to American slang phrases corresponding to warmth, fuzz, or gumshoe, these phrases refer an individual on the police pressure. Bobby is used as a nickname for Sir Robert Peel, the founding father of the London police. Dibble can additionally refer to the police and comes from the cartoon Prime Cat and Prime Cat’s primary foe Officer Dibble.

Nineteen to the dozen

Interpretation: To talk quickly and energetically. Consider it this fashion, there are 12 in a dozen, 13 in a baker’s dozen, and 19 in somebody’s dozen who’s attempting to get all of them to suit as quick as potential with out realizing there are literally solely 12 spots.

Give your ‘ead a wobble

Interpretation: To rethink one thing, or suppose it over. Perhaps you would give your ‘ead a wobble over being shirty.

That’s Pants! 

Interpretation: Principally that is used to explain one thing that isn’t superb, or possibly didn’t prove the way you thought it will. “That’s pants! I simply washed my automobile and now it’s raining!” or “Maya’s PowerPoint celebration was pants”.

To throw (or put) a spanner into the works

Interpretation: A drawback that prevents one thing from occurring the manner that it was deliberate, much like the phrase throw a wrench within the plans. It might be an individual that foils the plans or the misplaced pockets proper earlier than a street journey, regardless, it’s finest to maintain spanners out of the works. 

(10-1, guess you learn these in a British accent.)

All, language

British slang, Cockney Rhyming Slang, colloquialisms, Europe, featured, gobsmacked, guided trip, knackered, London, say what?, skint, slang, Slang in numerous nations, journey, Journey Ideas

Arianna Ambrutis

Having spent a lot of her life as nomadically as potential, Ari discovered a house with GET. So far as her travels have taken her, she’s labored on an archaeological dig in Israel, sailed round Greek isles, skilled a loopy sunburn in Turkey, adores tomatoes in Italy, and thinks Paris and New York are simply the bee’s knees. Along with her diploma in Cultural Anthropology, Ari loves exploring a tradition’s traditions, colloquialisms, and (most significantly) cuisines.

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source http://cheaprtravels.com/say-what-british-slang-and-phrases/

[starlabidwell0-blog]

Fantastic Pajamas Because of Toddlers When Buying Baby Clothes

The very first man who did that was Neil Armstrong. onesies about grandpa; instapaper.com, Jessica Clarke, 20, who created the designs with Annie Brown, 18, said: ‘We started off making hoods and rugs for my grandfather’s horses and from there we constructed up a enterprise. Don’t try to over-lengthen your home business. You’ll be ready to do that devoid of having any inventory or the overhead of a standard enterprise enterprise. You’ll be pleased to know the colorful wildlife designs are nonetheless going strong — and now you may put on them head to toe. Now this man made simple fabric fiber may be in comparison with the flannel and cotton. Luckily, both cotton and flannel have their benefits in these areas. When wearing these footie pajamas you just do not need to put on shirt and socks individually as they cover you from head till foot. Not only men, with the appearance of the most recent men’s kurta designs even many younger men and boys prefer to wear kurta pajama for various ethical and auspicious occasions. The Pajama Recreation - John Raitt Remembers.

They're okay realizing what's occurring. The shoes must even be comfy and easy to wear, because the footwear should be the last thing in your thoughts if you are strolling in the recent street. To aid your youngsters in sensing cozy whereas traveling and make sure that all individuals your celebration get a better night’s sleeping, make sure to see based sleeping rituals. And pillows make the home appears extra warm and cozy. For sizing info on these, ensure you seek the advice of the sizing chart within the bar below. I was stunned. I checked out the whole lot over and over to verify, but sure sufficient, they were complete snakes. You may promote these clothes and make a very good revenue. Moreover, good silk shirts should have an enough thread depend, however poor high quality shirts don’t have. For males, add some stubble with an eyeliner or eyebrow pencil, should you would not have your particular person stubble. You can at all times discover a reason to costume up - or not even have one at all! The place dan i find cow footie pajamas for a grownup girl? With so many nice designers, everyone is sure to search out the right choice. Online auctions are an excellent technique to get an excellent deal on a car.

We are sleepwear fanatics. Stella McCartney never fails to equip the modern woman with comfy and tremendous fashionable seems to be, even in sleepwear department. Splitting up the tasks will keep each parents from changing into exhausted, and provides every parent slightly alone time as soon as in awhile. In case you're not involved in the traditional stereotyping of pink for child girls and likewise powder blue for baby boys, try exploring something a bit on the goth part to give your child current a brand new twist. The merchandise that are utilized in these eco-pleasant child merchandise are safe and do not expose the child to any chemicals. Writer: Jenny Gregorich Dogs are always your favorable companions for taking part in and walking outdoors. Writer: Dave Lashier There must be an simple answer to this query as most people all search for our third cup of coffee to style as contemporary as the 1st cup of espresso early within the morning. Publisher: Lynn Porter Once you lie right down to sleep at night, we all need a snug mattress.

The top is printed with the humorous caption "Sleep All Day". Gerber has pants, socks, and hats to get your baby outfitted for no matter is in retailer that day. This isn’t some industry where you may waft in and out from in the future to the next. That manner, the heating is managed and so simply lowered in order that it can save you in your bills by around two p.c too. You possibly can snatch your very personal sign up right here! In historic ages it was an emblem of status and it can be utilized for royal households and different rich peoples. You possibly can guarantee product security by choosing from certified suppliers, including 52 with Different, 39 with ISO9001, and 30 with BSCI certification. Do you know what the supply of this cost is? The monkey costume is a well-liked thought for teenagers. These fleece pajamas are available in blue with a white snowflake print. The truth that girl's pajamas must be comfortable does not imply that they cannot be fashionable as well.

Darla the Surprise Canine in prissy pink pajamas impatiently pouts for pleasing pet pancakes. Some of your friends have their very own options on not to get her back, however to get over her. If you haven't yet tried it on your children, you most certainly must as a consequence of the fact that they are impressive. Sadly a number of of his custom onesies are already pretty much too small. Consider them and making use of for an auto loan online will be simple for you! Your shoes, once eradicated, will possibly be scanned by way of an x-ray gear, right and the remainder of your respective carryon suitcases. If you must play a game, this one is fine. Look for non-skid soles, ribbing across the neck and cuffs and for a coated snap at the highest to protect the neck and chin from zipper mishaps. Sadly, for a lot of couples it isn’t that straightforward. Maintain an expert demeanor, and apply your self and your time to your endeavors. Not solely did they still match yr, after year, however they held up too. Is there such factor as bow legs in infants? That’s right, flip off the heat and put away the flannel sheets. Fill the package with child clothes, an ultrasound, a baby e book, or something that screams "Baby!

[topfygad]

Say What?! British Slang and Phrases

We’re in all probability all aware of one thing being smashing at this level. (As in, this weblog is smashing.)

The utilization of slang phrases all over the world will be very amusing to these not within the know. There’s one thing uncanny about listening to a phrase, career, or object you’re aware of being referred to in a brand new manner.

In England, there’s an notorious Cockney Rhyming Slang that was invented by market merchants and avenue retailers and was in all probability first used to disguise what was being mentioned from passers-by. Cockney Slang makes use of language in one of the vital fascinating methods, by rhyming with what you imply however substituting completely different (and dissimilar) phrases. For instance, “I’m Hank Marvin!” interprets to “I’m ravenous” and apples and pears to stairs.

Nevertheless, relying on the place you might be in England, colloquialisms or slang might differ, or be a utterly completely different kettle of fish.  In the event you go as far north as Newcastle, you would possibly hear somebody name themselves clamming, for ravenous or confer with a set of stairs as dancers. 

Learn on to learn how to make use of phrases like “This climate is pants” or what your British aunt means by telling you “It’s parky on the market!” when she visits on her subsequent vacation.

Don’t be such a wind-up service provider

Interpretation: I is perhaps foolish and a bit gullible, however please cease teasing me!

Don’t get shirty with me

Interpretation: The individual you’re speaking to is getting aggravated and also you’re in all probability not completely happy about it. Consider sassy, bad-tempered, and a bit aggravated.

Play some footie

Interpretation: Once you’re going to go play some soccer, as in soccer, as in soccer.

Having outdated chinwag

Interpretation: Once you’re having an excellent chat with buddies, greater than probably with some gossip concerned.

To be an anorak

Interpretation: You’re such a geek or nerd. Breaking this one down a bit, it means an individual who has a really sturdy curiosity, maybe a bit obsessive, in area of interest topics.

Gobsmacked

Interpretation: Once you’re completely surprised or stunned and end up at a whole loss for phrases. This makes a bit extra sense when you already know that the phrase gob is slang for mouth.  Then, take this as a reference to being shocked by a blow to the mouth, or to clapping your hand to your mouth in astonishment.

All the things has gone all pear-shaped!

Interpretation: All of these well-laid plans have gone terribly, terribly awry. Principally, this implies every little thing has gone unsuitable. Perhaps the plans began as apple formed?

I’m knackered

Interpretation: You’re so exhausted you can’t do the rest. Really, this one has a little bit of a darkish previous because it derives from the slang phrase knacker which implies to kill. So, while you’ve utterly drained out or simply can’t go on, you’re knackered!

Newtons

Interpretation: Cockney Slang referring to Newton Heath, an space of Manchester, England. This phrase is a kind of enjoyable rhyming ones…are you able to guess? Okay, right here’s a touch: What if we instructed our kiddos to, “Stand up these apples and pears & brush your Newtons since you have to be simply knackered by now!”

I’m quids in

Interpretation: Discovering your self in a really favorable or advantageous place or while you stand to make some huge cash from a guess or enterprise enterprise. In the event you gained the lotto, you’d most undoubtedly be quids in.

Skint

Interpretation: Opposite to being quids in you can too be skint which implies to be broke or out of luck. It’s also possible to ask somebody for some money, let’s say when you overlook your pockets, by asking them in the event that they’ve bought any dosh? (Quids in = flush with it, skint = broke, dosh = so broke you’re borrowing from your folks. )

It’s parky out

Interpretation: It’s very chilly out, placed on a sweater.

A Bobby or Dibble 

Interpretation: Corresponding to American slang phrases corresponding to warmth, fuzz, or gumshoe, these phrases refer an individual on the police pressure. Bobby is used as a nickname for Sir Robert Peel, the founding father of the London police. Dibble can additionally refer to the police and comes from the cartoon Prime Cat and Prime Cat’s primary foe Officer Dibble.

Nineteen to the dozen

Interpretation: To talk quickly and energetically. Consider it this fashion, there are 12 in a dozen, 13 in a baker’s dozen, and 19 in somebody’s dozen who’s attempting to get all of them to suit as quick as potential with out realizing there are literally solely 12 spots.

Give your ‘ead a wobble

Interpretation: To rethink one thing, or suppose it over. Perhaps you would give your ‘ead a wobble over being shirty.

That’s Pants! 

Interpretation: Principally that is used to explain one thing that isn’t superb, or possibly didn’t prove the way you thought it will. “That’s pants! I simply washed my automobile and now it’s raining!” or “Maya’s PowerPoint celebration was pants”.

To throw (or put) a spanner into the works

Interpretation: A drawback that prevents one thing from occurring the manner that it was deliberate, much like the phrase throw a wrench within the plans. It might be an individual that foils the plans or the misplaced pockets proper earlier than a street journey, regardless, it’s finest to maintain spanners out of the works. 

(10-1, guess you learn these in a British accent.)

All, language

British slang, Cockney Rhyming Slang, colloquialisms, Europe, featured, gobsmacked, guided trip, knackered, London, say what?, skint, slang, Slang in numerous nations, journey, Journey Ideas

Arianna Ambrutis

Having spent a lot of her life as nomadically as potential, Ari discovered a house with GET. So far as her travels have taken her, she’s labored on an archaeological dig in Israel, sailed round Greek isles, skilled a loopy sunburn in Turkey, adores tomatoes in Italy, and thinks Paris and New York are simply the bee’s knees. Along with her diploma in Cultural Anthropology, Ari loves exploring a tradition’s traditions, colloquialisms, and (most significantly) cuisines.

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Say What?! British Slang and Phrases

We’re in all probability all aware of one thing being smashing at this level. (As in, this weblog is smashing.)

The utilization of slang phrases all over the world will be very amusing to these not within the know. There’s one thing uncanny about listening to a phrase, career, or object you’re aware of being referred to in a brand new manner.

In England, there’s an notorious Cockney Rhyming Slang that was invented by market merchants and avenue retailers and was in all probability first used to disguise what was being mentioned from passers-by. Cockney Slang makes use of language in one of the vital fascinating methods, by rhyming with what you imply however substituting completely different (and dissimilar) phrases. For instance, “I’m Hank Marvin!” interprets to “I’m ravenous” and apples and pears to stairs.

Nevertheless, relying on the place you might be in England, colloquialisms or slang might differ, or be a utterly completely different kettle of fish.  In the event you go as far north as Newcastle, you would possibly hear somebody name themselves clamming, for ravenous or confer with a set of stairs as dancers. 

Learn on to learn how to make use of phrases like “This climate is pants” or what your British aunt means by telling you “It’s parky on the market!” when she visits on her subsequent vacation.

Don’t be such a wind-up service provider

Interpretation: I is perhaps foolish and a bit gullible, however please cease teasing me!

Don’t get shirty with me

Interpretation: The individual you’re speaking to is getting aggravated and also you’re in all probability not completely happy about it. Consider sassy, bad-tempered, and a bit aggravated.

Play some footie

Interpretation: Once you’re going to go play some soccer, as in soccer, as in soccer.

Having outdated chinwag

Interpretation: Once you’re having an excellent chat with buddies, greater than probably with some gossip concerned.

To be an anorak

Interpretation: You’re such a geek or nerd. Breaking this one down a bit, it means an individual who has a really sturdy curiosity, maybe a bit obsessive, in area of interest topics.

Gobsmacked

Interpretation: Once you’re completely surprised or stunned and end up at a whole loss for phrases. This makes a bit extra sense when you already know that the phrase gob is slang for mouth.  Then, take this as a reference to being shocked by a blow to the mouth, or to clapping your hand to your mouth in astonishment.

All the things has gone all pear-shaped!

Interpretation: All of these well-laid plans have gone terribly, terribly awry. Principally, this implies every little thing has gone unsuitable. Perhaps the plans began as apple formed?

I’m knackered

Interpretation: You’re so exhausted you can’t do the rest. Really, this one has a little bit of a darkish previous because it derives from the slang phrase knacker which implies to kill. So, while you’ve utterly drained out or simply can’t go on, you’re knackered!

Newtons

Interpretation: Cockney Slang referring to Newton Heath, an space of Manchester, England. This phrase is a kind of enjoyable rhyming ones…are you able to guess? Okay, right here’s a touch: What if we instructed our kiddos to, “Stand up these apples and pears & brush your Newtons since you have to be simply knackered by now!”

I’m quids in

Interpretation: Discovering your self in a really favorable or advantageous place or while you stand to make some huge cash from a guess or enterprise enterprise. In the event you gained the lotto, you’d most undoubtedly be quids in.

Skint

Interpretation: Opposite to being quids in you can too be skint which implies to be broke or out of luck. It’s also possible to ask somebody for some money, let’s say when you overlook your pockets, by asking them in the event that they’ve bought any dosh? (Quids in = flush with it, skint = broke, dosh = so broke you’re borrowing from your folks. )

It’s parky out

Interpretation: It’s very chilly out, placed on a sweater.

A Bobby or Dibble 

Interpretation: Corresponding to American slang phrases corresponding to warmth, fuzz, or gumshoe, these phrases refer an individual on the police pressure. Bobby is used as a nickname for Sir Robert Peel, the founding father of the London police. Dibble can additionally refer to the police and comes from the cartoon Prime Cat and Prime Cat’s primary foe Officer Dibble.

Nineteen to the dozen

Interpretation: To talk quickly and energetically. Consider it this fashion, there are 12 in a dozen, 13 in a baker’s dozen, and 19 in somebody’s dozen who’s attempting to get all of them to suit as quick as potential with out realizing there are literally solely 12 spots.

Give your ‘ead a wobble

Interpretation: To rethink one thing, or suppose it over. Perhaps you would give your ‘ead a wobble over being shirty.

That’s Pants! 

Interpretation: Principally that is used to explain one thing that isn’t superb, or possibly didn’t prove the way you thought it will. “That’s pants! I simply washed my automobile and now it’s raining!” or “Maya’s PowerPoint celebration was pants”.

To throw (or put) a spanner into the works

Interpretation: A drawback that prevents one thing from occurring the manner that it was deliberate, much like the phrase throw a wrench within the plans. It might be an individual that foils the plans or the misplaced pockets proper earlier than a street journey, regardless, it’s finest to maintain spanners out of the works. 

(10-1, guess you learn these in a British accent.)

All, language

British slang, Cockney Rhyming Slang, colloquialisms, Europe, featured, gobsmacked, guided trip, knackered, London, say what?, skint, slang, Slang in numerous nations, journey, Journey Ideas

Arianna Ambrutis

Having spent a lot of her life as nomadically as potential, Ari discovered a house with GET. So far as her travels have taken her, she’s labored on an archaeological dig in Israel, sailed round Greek isles, skilled a loopy sunburn in Turkey, adores tomatoes in Italy, and thinks Paris and New York are simply the bee’s knees. Along with her diploma in Cultural Anthropology, Ari loves exploring a tradition’s traditions, colloquialisms, and (most significantly) cuisines.

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