#you ever seen two people more AND IF A DOUBLE DECKER BUS CRASHES INTO US TO DIE BY YOUR SIDE IS SUCH A HEAVENLY WAY TO DIE

[jonathanbyersphd]

I am once again thinking about

Jonathan: We can't call Hawkins without alerting the military, putting El in danger. Fine, then we'll just go to them.

AND

Nancy: Whatever's happening in Lenora is connected to all of this I'm sure of it. But Vecna can't hurt them. Not if he's dead.

[redrosesartcabin]

So yeah, I wrote the thing based on an anon message for @itsme-star

I made it a Barley x (female) reader (based on my self insert character) fanfic ‘cause I had to be a little self indulgent lmao

I hope you enjoy it! It turned out longer than I had planned xD

——————————————————

The double-decker couch

Barley x (female) reader fanfiction

———

Around three months ago:

Y/n’s boyfriend, Barley Lightfoot, had knocked on her window… with small stones… in the middle of the night:

At first her ear just twitched and the noise had mashed with the dream she was having, but the more the noise repeated, the more her consciousness felt pulled into the physical realm again, and with a groan, she had to face the reality that the noise would not stop until she got up (she already had a suspicion as to who was causing the noise).

With a heavy sigh, y/n forced herself from under her comfortable blanket, before ripping the window open.

‘Of course it’s him’, she thought, looking down at Barley as he waved his hands up at her, somehow wide awake.

‘How much energy can a person have?’, she asked herself, before she motioned with her hands, that she’d come outside.

“What in the world are you doing here?”, she asked as she arrived, whisper-yelling at him.

“Well you know how it is my lady: sometimes one just drives around at night after finishing a campaign of quests of yore and sees the poster of a double-decker bus and then one might think: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if one could have a couch after that structure?’ After having had thought about a new couch for a while and ‘wouldn’t it be cool, if one might be able to build that with their girlfriend?’”

“I can’t say I relate, though I am impressed by one having the idea”, she said, deliberately accentuating the word ‘one’, as she couldn’t now but smile at her beautiful dork, “And I have to say I love the idea, though I still have to decide whether it was worth waking me up at three a.m… but for now I’ll just say yes, because I love you too much to be mad at you for this”

“I know: I’m irresistible”, he winked, pulling her closer to him and engaging her in a sickeningly romantic kiss.

“As nice as this is, I would still like to catch up on some sleep. We’ll write later and you tell when we should start building”

“I actually thought… you know… that maybe now-”

“Don’t push it”

“Right”

Now:

It hadn’t been easy. First they had to scavenge several junkyards for old couches (because let’s be real: They were both poor college students and buying material or new couches just was too expensive), who weren’t completely busted. Then they had to figure out how to build the thing.

After studying art for a while, where y/n had to do a bunch of installation projects, she had gotten significantly better at building things with woods and such, though she still wasn’t an expert. And whilst Barley also got crafty from time to time, he also wasn’t a master.

But somehow, after sweat, and even a couple of tears after y/n once got her hand stuck under one of the couches, they had finished it: The double decker couch.

“This-”, Barley said, pointing his finger at it, “This is beautiful”.

It was a yellow and a green couch, connected through metal poles and stabilized with old wood planks with two ladders placed on top of it and just enough space between the couches, so that one could sit up straight. It sort of looked like a bunk bed, but with couches.

“It is. It really is”, y/n agreed, looking at her bandaged hand, “totally worth busting my hand”

“Totally worth going through every junkyard in the city”, Barley added.

“Totally worth being awake once for 48 hours”, she added as well.

“This should be awarded some kind of price… maybe I’d also just be happy for some money for a wellness weekend ‘cause my back could really need a nice massage”, Barley groaned, touching the small of his back.

“Hard agree”

They stayed standing there for a while, looking at it, before y/n occurred a question that should’ve occurred to her much sooner.

“So-uhm-”, she started, “what do we actually do with it now?”, she asked

“Sit on it of course. You sit below and I above so I can feed you grapes like you’re a roman emperor”, Barley explained matter of factly.

“That sounds lovely darling but that’s not what I mean”

“What seems to be the issue then?”he asked, a little frustrated. What could she possibly have to say now? After so much hard work?

“I mean… where do we put it?”, she asked with a sincere expression which immediately washed away his annoyance, “because it certainly won’t stay in my parents basement”, she stated.

“It’s certainly more worthy than this old, dusty room with your family's junk. And also because this place is crawling with bugs that I will have to remove every time because you’ll just screech and run away until it magically disappears”

“Hey!”, y/n interjected

“It's true!”

“Ok yeah fair enough, though seriously- where? I also can bet’ya we can’t put it anywhere in our homes either. It probably barely fit under the ceiling”

“Yeah no”

A moment of contemplative silence spread across them.

After a while, Barleys thoughts wandered to the night where he had gotten the idea. He thought about his beloved car-

‘OH. MY. GOD. That’s it!’, he thought to himself.

“I got it!”, he then yelled excitedly, his face contorted into one of the most adorable expressions y/n had ever seen anyone wear. No matter what it would be: She couldn’t but say yes to that smile.

Still she asked, “What’ya got?”

“You know how I got my idea from a poster with a double-decker bus?”, he asked her, still smiling like he had won the lottery

“Yes?”

“And you know how I have a van, right?”

“No”, she answered sarcastically, “I know absolutely nothing about your most prized possession of a van that you called Guenivere the second after you sacrificed your first Guenivere when on a quest-”

“Ok I got the gist”, he chuckled, “but ok hear this: Since I have this wonderful van, this wonderful BIG van-”

“Wait a minute: You really want to put the couch in-”, she interrupted as she realized what he was saying, but got immediately interrupted back as he realized she had caught on

“Yes! I absolutely am”

“Dear lord… but ok I have no better idea, let’s do it”

“YES”

“Barley I am telling you, this is NOT working”, y/n huffed as she let her side of the construction gently land on the ground once again.

“Come on, just one more time!”, Barley pleaded.

“You’ve been saying ‘just one more time’ for an hour!”, she argued, “there is no way around: this just doesn’t fit inside the van. You underestimated Guenivere”

“Hey! There is no underestimating Guenivere! It’s not her fault”, he pouted.

“Ok ok ok... Sorry Gueni”, y/n said, giving the car a sincere pat on one of the back doors. She has gotten used to treating the car similar to a pet, “but seriously: We’ve been trying this at every angle, and as cool as Guenivere is, she can’t magically shapeshift”

“Magically shapeshift”, Barely repeated her last words, suddenly deep in thought, before an “ohhhh”, sound escaped him, “wait here my lady, I’ll be back in a sec”

“O...k”, she said, a little confused.

Five minutes later, she saw Ian storm out of his house, his hands clenched around his magic staff, with Barley closely behind him. “WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY?”Ian yelled as he came to a hold, which caused his brother to almost crash into him.

“I need you to make Guenivere big enough so that our self made double-decker couch fits into her”, Barely explained, breathing as though he had just run from death.

For a moment nobody said anything to that before Ian and y/n both shouted

“WHAT?”,at the same time.

“So much for an emergency”, Ian also mumbled, a little annoyed at his brother's antics.

“I mean: If she’s too small, then we can just make her bigger, right?”

“Technically yes but I think you didn’t consider a very small, tiny detail”, Ian commented.

“And what would that be?”, Barley asked irritated, not understanding what the issue was.

“You are aware as a supposed magic expert, that I can’t only enlarge the trunk, right? I would have to make the entire car big, and that would lead-”

“-to the entire street being filled with the car”, y/n finished the thought, apologetically laying her hand on Barleys shoulder, “I’m sorry my love. It was a nice thought”

“Dang it”, Barley breathed out, “I was looking forward to make my own uber-van-couch-double-decker-business”

“Hm”, y/n simply hummed. She had known from the beginning it would probably go south, but his enthusiasm had given her hope.

“Sorry Barley”, Ian said quietly, now feeling bad for having been so harsh beforehand , before slowly heading inside again.

Y/n and Barely sat down on the edge of Guenivere’s trunk, tired and disappointed that it all hadn’t turned out like they wanted as they looked at their creation.

Y/n leaned against Barley’s shoulder, lovingly rubbing her cheek against him like a cat (she loved doing that).

After a while Barley decided he had enough of sulking, standing up to go to the front to put on some good old metal (which luckily she enjoyed too).

As he however returned to the trunk, he noticed some ropes laying around.

He had used ropes last time to tie up some of the material he had bought for their project, so they wouldn’t move around- what if though…

“Ok I’ve had enough”, Barley decided, “I WILL have my double-decker-couch-van for more people to ride with me and my buddies and if its the last thing I’m gonna do!”

“Barley, what are you-”, y/n wanted to ask, but as she saw him pick up the ropes from the trunk floor, she understood, “- Are you sure this will work out?”

“Nope”, he answered truthfully, “but I will surely try!”

She was still skeptical, but at the same time she would try anything with him, and if it meant helping him tie a double-decker-couch to the roof of his van.

“If you believe it can be done, I will too”, she smiled, giving him a quick peck on his cheek, “let’s do this!”

It was eight p.m. The sun was almost behind the horizon and the streetlamps threw dodgy looking lights in the middle of the street and kept the corners dark.

But the elven couple, who stood in front of a yellow van with a double-decker couch tied to its roof, couldn't help but see what they had accomplished: Which was accomplishing what, at least the female elf, had thought was impossible… yet again.

“I can’t believe that worked”, Y/n mumbled.

“Told ya”, Barley hushed back.

“Should we drive around? See if anyone is crazy enough to go on a drive?”, she asked.

“You bet we are. And tomorrow… and whenever we can. I’ll be the driver and you the tourist guide.. or maybe some kinda sturdess, after all you’re good lookin’”

“Oh hush”, she giggled, visibly blushing

“And-”, he continued, though not without giving her a good wink after his compliment, “then we’re gonna show the dear people of this town another perspective to life”

“That we can promise”, she laughed, “that we sure can”

[droppingplanets]

An Unconventional Double-Decker Bus

AO3 FanFiction.Net

“Bugger it all.”

For what seemed like the millionth time in a period of half an hour, James Potter’s laptop had crashed again. He stared at the black screen, trying his hardest to prevent himself from assaulting the aggravating hunk of metal positioned on his lap. Becoming acutely aware of how pathetic he looked, he shoved the laptop aside with an almost commendable amount of self-control.

Need some air. James made up his mind. To hell with his homework, he’d find some bullshit excuse for McGonagall the next day. Of course, there was very little chance that she’d actually believe him; the one month he’d spent at King’s College London had given him and his strict Comparative Literature professor plenty of opportunity to get to know one another. James had come to the conclusion that it would take slightly more time than usual to win her over.

As he headed to the door of his small but oddly comforting dorm room, a thought struck him. Should I call Sirius?

Sirius Black was young and attractive, and not much else. Or at least so he’d immediately assumed. Until the night Sirius stumbled piss drunk into the room shared by James and Remus Lupin – a quiet, yet oddly commanding design student in his first year. It was when Sirius embarked on a rant about the finer points of classical Greek philosophy that James knew there was something extremely odd about this bloke. One thing led to another, and in a matter of ten minutes, James was almost at the same levels of intoxication as his new best friend, while Remus tried to engage Sirius in a political debate. After that night, James believed he had found a soulmate in Sirius – er, well, a soulmate of sorts. He was still the most annoying person in the entirety of London, as far as James was concerned, yet somehow, his cat had immediately taken to him. Remus wasn’t too bad either.

Despite his newfound camaraderie, he decided against inviting Sirius. He wanted to be alone right now (read: he wanted to go off and sulk under a tree). And if nothing came of that, he’d go crash Remus’s date, which led him to wonder. Who in their right mind would go on a date on a bloody Wednesday afternoon?

James locked the door behind him and set off for his adventure. Some adventure, he reflected. Taking long strides, he was out the door of Moonraker Point – which apparently the name of the building that served as accommodation for KCL students – before he knew it. Oh, this felt so much better. Countless hours spent in front of a laptop hammering away essays was no way to spend the day.

Spotting a nice-looking tree in the distance, he grinned. Beautiful. What a majestic sight it was. Knowing that he and the tree were destined to meet, he broke into a slight jog and started heading towards it. That’s when he saw a flash of red – the brightest red he had ever seen–

CRASH.

As James lay on the ground, he wondered about the nature of this mighty red beast that had come in his path. No doubt, it was a ferocious monster of some sort, and now there would be a battle.

Wait.

Not a monster.

A rather angry-looking girl with red hair was dusting herself off, two inches across from him. James perked up, despite the throbbing he felt in his arse. He knew exactly who this was.

“Rhododendron!” he exclaimed with pleasure.

The girl looked angrier now. “It’s Lily, thank you very much,” she said, focusing her glare on him.

“Oh, of course. Lily. Yes. Lily. How could I forget?” He pushed himself off the ground. He’d encountered Lily Evans once before, when he’d nearly set her backpack on fire. Holding out a hand to her, he smiled at her vaguely apologetically – at least, he hoped it was apologetic. It seemed to work, however, as her eyes softened and she used the support to help herself off the ground.

“You’re very destructive, you know that, Potter?” she sighed.

He had to admit that he was, as he thought back to the several fires he had inadvertently started over the course of his seventeen years. Of course, he did have an ego to protect.

“You should meet my cat,” he said. He missed Juniper. He only saw her on the weekends when he went home, although he was secretly plotting to kidnap her and bring her into his dorm room.

“I don’t like cats,” said Evans. James gasped. Who didn’t like cats?

“That’s outrageous. Everyone likes cats,” he said confidently.

“Yes, well, not me.”

“You’re a bit mad, then, aren’t you, Evans?”

“Says the bloke who started a fire in McGonagall’s class,” she shot back. He grimaced. That hadn’t been one of his finer moments.

“I’ll have you know that the ancient Persians worshipped fire!”

“Sorry to break it to you, but this isn’t ancient Persia.”

“I ruddy well wish it was,” he grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re so odd, Potter, do you know that?” James said nothing.

“Do us all a favour and keep your destructive tendencies to yourself, yeah?” she said, her eyebrow raised. Eliciting no response from him, she started walking away. “See around, Potter.”

“Bye, Evans,” he said, running a hand through his hair. So much for that.

But as for now, he had a tree to attend to, and a cat to kidnap.

Remus wasn’t sure what to expect when Mary Macdonald asked him if he wanted to go to Tate Modern with her. He was a sucker for pretentious art, and she knew that. The three weeks they’d spent as partners in Flitwick’s Modern Art class had been hugely entertaining and had resulted in a discovery of the fact that the two shared a mutual love for hot chocolate, Terry Pratchett novels, and the Welsh band Catfish And The Bottlemen. Hell with it, why shouldn’t he say yes? It wasn’t like it would be a date.

“It’s totally a date,” said James, when asked. Remus groaned.

“There’s no way it’s a date. She would have told me if it was a date,” he insisted.

James shrugged. “Whatever you say, mate.”

Thus, Remus spent a good half an hour prior to his so-called date in a state of insecurity. Upon receiving a text from Mary requesting him to meet her at the Southbank Centre, he made a calculated and mature decision to shove his thoughts aside and go take the mickey out of some modern art.

One Tube journey later, he exited Embankment Tube Station. Despite having spent an entire month in London, the city continued to amaze him – especially the riverside. Having spent his childhood in a small town in Wales called Hay-on-Wye, being thrust into a life in central London had proved to be a bit of a contrast. He reflected upon this as he made his way across the Golden Jubilee bridge. Of course, having James Potter for a roommate made things a lot more interesting than they would have been otherwise.

The October air was chilly. Remus wrapped his coat around himself a little tighter and continued on his way, smiling at a busker who was belting out a version of Norwegian Wood with an acoustic guitar strapped to his chest. He vaguely wondered as to how the man’s fingers hadn’t gone numb, especially considering how long he’d been playing for.

Finally, having made it to the other side, he spotted Mary on a red bench shaped like a slide, the wind giving the impression that her dark hair looked like it was making an attempt to escape her face. She noticed Remus approaching and jogged towards him. The two hugged briefly.

“It’s fucking cold, Lupin,” said, oddly cheerfully.

“Wait till December,” he said, grinning back at her. Mary shuddered. “Come on, then, let’s go make fun of modern art.”

“Oh, wow, that’s what I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

“Stop mocking me.”

“Stop being mockable.”

“Mockable isn’t a real word.”

“You’re not a real word–” Remus suddenly broke off and whipped around. That voice. He knew that voice. But where was it coming from?

“Dancing queeeeen, young and sweet, only seventeeeeen…”

Of course it had to be him. Remus broke into laughter. This was too good to be true. Mary noticed what he was looking at and soon was in fits of laughter as well, at the sight of Sirius Black some ten feet away from them, a mic grasped tightly in his hands and a speaker blaring out his version of the ABBA hit Dancing Queen.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I’m here all week!” he announced as Remus and Mary headed towards him.

“Lupin, Macdonald, what a pleasant surprise!” he cried.

“Never knew you were so talented, Black,” laughed Mary.

“Very convincing falsetto,” agreed Remus. Sirius curtseyed.  

“It’s an art, you see,” he said happily. Remus was inclined to agree.

“YOU SOUND LIKE MY CAT!” came a voice from the distance. Sirius waved it off. “Pish-posh, they’re just jealous.”

“Of course,” said Mary, still laughing. “I should recruit you for my band. We’d be fantastic!”

“Sorry, Macdonald, I’m a solo act,” he said, turning back to the speaker positioned behind him. “And I’m afraid I have to get back to work now. Southbank Centre is about to hear my fantastic rendition of Staying Alive.”

“Fair enough. See you around, Black.” She gestured at Remus that they should be on their way. About thirty seconds later, a voice rang out in the distance.

“WELL, YOU CAN TELL BY THE WAY I USE MY WALK–”

Peter Pettigrew was exceptionally bored. The only reason he’d agreed to visit the Tate with his sister was because she’d agreed to buy him lunch afterwards at Founder’s Arms, and that wasn’t an opportunity he was going to pass up. But now, he was starting to wonder if it was worth it. The two hours he’d spent at the museum had resulted in a fairly intense game of Clash Of Clans on his phone – until, of course, the phone battery died and he was left with no choice but to wander the museum akin to a Viking warrior charting unknown territories.

Modern art was so weird. He was convinced he could pose as a flamingo in the museum and people would consider him to be an exhibit. Art students were also very weird, he reflected. Economics students were so much simpler. His class at KCL was full of fairly normal people – which, admittedly, made it that much more boring.

Chancing upon a bench, he took the opportunity to regain some lost energy. A full minute later, he felt like screaming. This was immensely boring.

Peter made up with his mind. Hell with it, it was time to enjoy himself a little bit. Spotting an empty corner in the room he was, he made a snap decision. Quickly removing his left shoe, he jogged over to the corner and placed it there. Brilliant. Modern art. Time to see how many people would fall for this.

He wasn’t disappointed. In a matter of minutes, a large crowd had gathered around his shoe, each person staring at it as if in deep contemplation. A tourist even pulled out a DSLR camera bigger than Peter’s hopes and took a photo of the new addition to the exhibit.

Peter was delighted. He couldn’t believe so many people had fallen for this. It was then that he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“Oi, give the poor lad his shoe back.”

Oh hell.

“And that’s how we met Peter,” finished Mary, laughing, as Peter smiled embarrassedly.

“So you made an arse out of a bunch of tourists, good on you,” said Lily, breaking into a laugh as well. Two days after her encounter with James Potter – not that she was thinking about the encounter at all – her roommate Mary Macdonald had offered to introduce her to the new friends she’d made. The three were seated in a local pub that evening, awaiting the presence of self-proclaimed ABBA-phile Sirius Black.

"Listen, I’ll be right back, I need to take a leak,” explained Peter and disappeared before Lily could blink. What an odd bloke.

Mary disappeared within the next minute as well, leaving to take a phone call (“Sirius, how the hell did you get lost?”), leaving Lily seated by herself, idly stirring a glass of lemonade. The music playing in the pub seemed oddly familiar – was it a Eurovision winner? She spent a couple of minutes racking her brain to figure it out when she heard a voice.

“Lemonade in October, Evans, are you bleeding mad?”

Of course it had to be James Potter. What were the odds?

“I’ll have you know I have a fantastic immune system,” she replied, watching Potter take a seat opposite her at the booth.

“Go on, sit down then,” she said sarcastically. He smiled pleasantly.

“Lovely attitude, there. Bet it really pays off, looking at all the friends you’ve got,” he gestured around the empty table.

“Clearly pays off for you as well, seeing as you’re spending your evenings stalking me.”

“Oh, this was purely a happy coincidence, Evans,” said Potter. Lily snorted.

“Your version of a happy coincidence is crashing into me like a double decker bus.”

“Oh, get over it, Evans, it’s been two days!”

“What if I had lasting injuries?”

“Well, do you?”

“Er, no, but that’s not the point!”

“Your face is the point!”

Lily was suddenly aware of the fact that the two were being watched by Mary, Peter, and a new appearance whom she assumed to be Sirius Black.

“Maybe if we get them some alcohol, they’ll start snogging!” Sirius stage-whispered.

“Maybe if we get you some alcohol, you’ll piss off,” shot back Lily, too riled up to give a toss about the fact that she was insulting a complete stranger, albeit a very handsome one.

“Better yet, he’ll start talking about Plato,” Potter added on. This statement attracted a few questioning looks. “It’s a long story,” he said by way of an explanation.

“So this is Evans?” Sirius sidled into the seat next to James. “I like her. She’s cooler than you, Mary.”

“You’ve known her all of two minutes!” she cried indignantly. All she got was a wink. “You’re a git.”

“I know.”

As the night went on, Sirius decided to put his fake ID to good use. Peter and Mary were a little hesitant with their alcohol, but they took to it with enthusiasm after a certain point. Potter and Sirius seemed to be veterans, and by around 11 PM, they took it upon themselves to provide the pub with a rousing duet of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.

In hindsight, it was probably the duet that got all of them forcibly removed from the pub. Or maybe it was Lily’s goat impressions.

“Never again,” moaned James. “I’m never drinking with Sirius fucking Black ever again.”

This statement elicited a pillow being chucked at him by Sirius fucking Black himself. “Shut up, you prat,” moaned Sirius in a similar tone. “Ow. No more alcohol for me. Ever again.”

Peter Pettigrew nodded in agreement from his corner of the room. Remus wasn’t sure exactly when he’d agreed to become a caretaker to his friends with alcoholic tendencies, but he’d taken on the duty with a commendable amount of enthusiasm. He’d also decided that this would be the only time that’d be fulfilling this role, and to ensure this, he’d taken the liberty of stealing Sirius’s fake ID.

What a way to end a month.

“Remus?” James called out. “It was totally a date.” His face seemed to have the vague semblance of a smirk.

Remus’s ears went red. “Shut up, you prig. Go fantasise about Lily.”

“Evans is an odd bird,” mumbled James. “But she’s cool.”

So much for maintaining his dignity.

[radioleary-blog]

When Chuck Norris Got Bullied, He Called Evel Knievel

I simply can’t keep up with all the crazy things the Trump administration has been up to this past week. He’s only been President for two weeks and he has caused more protests than we have seen in this country since the ending of the last episode of ‘The Sopranos.’ Seriously, after eight seasons, how dare they just cut to black as the Sopranos are sitting there in a pizza joint? If I wanted to decide for myself what happens to Tony and Carmella, I wouldn’t have paid for eight years of HBO. I’m certainly not paying for HBO because of the incredible selection of the same dozen movies they run over and over again until you know every line of dialogue between John McClane and Hans Gruber. You know what? Rather than invent examples, I’ll just grab the remote and check what’s on HBO right now. I have the whole package (if you know what I mean), so I’m sure there are some real cinematic masterpieces. Let’s see...okay, here we go. ‘The Princess Diaries’, from 2001. ‘The Bonfire of the Vanities,’1990, followed by ‘Problem Child 2’, 1991. Then ‘King Ralph,’ ‘Sixteen Candles,’ ‘Wall Street,’ ‘Blues Brothers 2000,’ ‘Demolition Man,’ ‘Point Break,’ and ‘Panic Room.’ Wow, cancel all my appointments! I know what I’m doing for the next 18 hours! Screw the Superbowl, I’ll be watching Charlie Sheen before Aids, Wesley Snipes before prison, and Jodie Foster before she came out of the panic room closet. And luckily, I have HBO West, so I get to watch them all over again three hours later in case I missed something the first ten times. Are you kidding me? These are all movies I would gladly pay fifty bucks a month to avoid.

This week Trump pulled more crazy stunts than anyone since Evel Knievel built a rocketship to jump over the Snake River Canyon. And we all know how great that turned out. There are parallels between Evel Knievel and Donald Trump, I guess. Trump wants to build an enormous wall in the desert, Evel Knievel built an enormous ramp in the desert. Of course, the ramp was built to get you across a river, and the wall will be built to stop you from getting across a river, but, whatever. When Evel Knievel appeared somewhere, the crowds would all shout “Evel!”, and whenever Trump appears somewhere, the crowds all shout “Evil!” Kind of similar, but again, whatever. People watched in horror as Evel Knievel’s motorcycle crashed during a jump, on a bus, and people listened in horror as Trump was recorded talking about grabbing pussy, on a bus. Both were consummate showmen, both were thin-skinned, angry, and hated critics. Both were constantly feuding with the media even as they fed off it. But Trump’s approval rating is falling faster than Evel’s rocket-motorcycle fell into that canyon. And that’s as close as Evel Knievel ever came to jumping a shark, yet Donald Trump may have already jumped the shark. Evel Knievel survived that crash on September 8, 1974, simply because he was as badass as they get. It takes a lot more than jumping a mile-wide chasm in a homemade steam-powered rocket-motorcycle and plummeting a thousand feet into a river canyon to kill Evel Knievel. He was old school tough. I watched this guy crash, hitting his landing ramp too fast after jumping 13 double-decker busses in Wembley Stadium,  and he hit the ground at 70mph, so hard it would make crash-test dummies weep, tumbling on the tarmac like a sweater in the dryer. He broke his pelvis, collarbone, some ribs and vertebrae. And you know what he did? No, of course you don’t, you’re less than a hundred years old. Well, I’ll tell ya what he did. He got up. He got to his feet, broken pelvis and all, and walked over to the microphone and told the crowd he was retiring. He was in shock, and ABC broadcaster Frank Gifford was begging him on-air to let the paramedics put him on a stretcher and in an ambulance, but Evel Knievel just turned and walked off the Wembley field, saying, “I came in walking, I went out walking!” It does not get more badass than that. Evel Knievel makes Clint Eastwood look like Jay Baruchel. He makes Vin Diesel look like Shia LaBeouf. Over his entire career, he spent more than 3 years in a hospital due to traumatic injuries from his jumps! And although Evel Knievel didn’t actually break "every bone in his body," as legend had it, the truth is he suffered 433 broken bones during his career. He is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the survivor of the most bones broken in a lifetime.

He was so tough, when Chuck Norris got bullied, he called Evel Knievel.

But as I say, I’m having trouble just keeping up with all the blunders of the Trump administration this past week, far more than any other President screwed up in their entire first term. I think in the four years Jimmy Carter was President, the worst thing he ever did was one time he went fishing, and he whacked a rabbit that was trying to climb into his canoe. With a paddle, I mean, he didn’t have it whacked like a mob hit. Ah, simpler times, when presidential scandals were as wholesome as fishin’ and whackin’ rabbits with a paddle. Now it’s all about pussy grabbin’, golden showers, and whackin’ something else entirely.

I just can’t write fast enough to keep up. To write down all of Trump’s bullshit this week, I would have to type faster than a court stenographer taking down the testimony of Busta Rhymes being sued by an auctioneer. (For you old people: Busta Rhymes talks really fast. For you young people: auctioneers talk really fast.) I would  have to type faster than Stephen King cranking out schlocky horror novels, although I think Trump is a hell of a lot scarier. Like a Stephen King novel, Trump was elected by states populated by the ‘Children of the Corn,’ and now we’re all in ‘Misery.’ In Ronald Reagan's farewell address from the Oval Office, he called America “the shining city on hill”, but after only two weeks of Trump, it’s starting to look more like just ‘The Shining.’ And President Obama’s term in office is over, so just like in ‘The Shining,’ things get really crazy after the black guy retires.

Speaking of horror movies brought to life, his cabinet picks are all being confirmed, and it looks less like the cabinet of a President, and more like ‘The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.’ Rex Tillerson, former CEO of Exxon/Mobil is now the Secretary of State. The State Department is busy preparing for his arrival by making sure all the bathrooms are just as disgustingly filthy as the bathrooms at every Exxon/Mobil gas station. Diplomats received an inter-office memo instructing them not to flush until further notice, and to no longer worry about their aim. To add authenticity, all of the bathrooms will also be kept locked with only one key for the entire building, and the key will be attached to a hubcap from a late-model Buick LeSabre to make sure no one walks off with it.

So what did Trump do this week? Well, at a Black History Month prayer breakfast, Trump seemed to think the famous orator and abolitionist Frederick Douglass was alive and well. Which may come as a shock to his family, seeing as he died in 1895. Well, not his family, so much, but his descendants might be pretty freaked out to know he walks among the living. Frederick Douglass would probably be a very eloquent zombie. He could probably convince you to agree to let him eat your brains as reparations for slavery. I remember his famous quote, “Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, so how’s about you let me eat your brains?” Or this insightful quote they taught us in school, “No man can put a chain about the ankle of his fellow man without at last finding the other end fastened about his own neck. Now let me eat your brains, seriously.”

When asked about Douglass, Trump said, “Frederick Douglass is an example of somebody who’s done an amazing job and is getting recognized more and more, I notice.” Yeah, he’s getting recognized more and more, Mr. President, and you noticed. Nothing gets by you, does it? I think he might just win this season of Celebrity Apprentice, if that scheming Harriet Tubman doesn’t call him out in the boardroom for being a lousy project manager. Harriet Tubman was like the Omarosa of the underground railroad, and putting her face on the twenty-dollar bill will only feed her ego and make her even more insufferable to be around. “Let me get the tip, but all I have are twenties...Anybody got change for a ‘me’?” I wondered how any U.S. President could be quite this stupid, then I realized he must have learned everything he knows about black history from his Education Secretary pick, Betsy DeVos. Now, I’m not saying Betsy DeVos is an idiot and far too unqualified to run our nation’s public schools. I’m not saying it, I’m typing it. She knows nothing about our education system.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks a ‘scholarship’ is a boat full of smart people.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks ‘trigonometry’ is the study of firing guns.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks that ‘tuition’ is when a woman gets a hunch about something.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks ‘Tufts University’ is where you learn to cut hair.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks ‘Tulane University’ is on a highway.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks ‘Loyola’ is where they make all those crayons.

Betsy DeVos is so stupid, she thinks a ‘Bachelor of Arts’ is a gay male dancer.

Apart from Trump providing a perfect example of why we actually need Black History Month, he upped the crazy ante at this prayer breakfast when he started ranting about the ratings on his old TV show, from which he was fired for being a racist. "They hired a big, big movie star, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to take my place...The ratings went down the tubes. It's been a total disaster...And I want to just pray for Arnold, if we can, for those ratings." WTF? Somebody tell this guy he’s supposed to be worrying about the really big things now, like war, and comets, and aliens, and climate change, and everything else that can possibly go wrong. But instead he is worrying about his old TV show? Snap out of it, man, you’re on a new reality show now, it’s called ‘Celebrity President.’ And this first season sucks. And your ratings are awful. How the hell did we end up with a President who is in bed with Russia but at war with NBC? Franklin Roosevelt will always be remembered for winning the war against the Nazis and the Japanese, and Donald Trump will always be remembered for losing the war against Saturday Night Live. I think it was a racist thing to do, actually, to pray for Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ratings at a Black History prayer breakfast instead of any number of African-Americans who lost their lives in the past year. Frankly, I think he brought up Schwarzenegger because he knew the only way he could use the n-word was by putting “Schwarzen” in front of it.

And another scary development, two weeks into Trump's presidency and Republicans have given the mentally ill easier access to guns, as they voted to overturn an Obama administration law that blocked people with mental disorders from buying guns. Wow. Talk about playing to your base.

What else. Oh yeah, he threatened to invade Mexico, probably worth mentioning that. Nothing like a military invasion to teach people to respect borders. I guess his next move will be to annex the Sudetenland.

Strangest of all, Trump somehow managed to get into a fight with one of our staunchest allies, Australia. Australia! How do you manage to piss off Australia? For God’s sake, their national motto is “No Worries.” Trump was upset that President Obama had agreed to take 1,200 refugees that Australia had been detaining. Trump called it the “worst deal ever!” The worst deal ever? I don’t think it really approaches the level of worst deal ever, not even on a personal level. I once paid 60 bucks for an eighth of mediocre weed, and that was in the 1990s! I couldn’t even enjoy it because I paid so much. And because it was shitty weed. The Brown Frown.

Worst deal ever? How about when we bought Manhattan from the Indians for 24 bucks? That’s a pretty bad deal. Is it still okay to say Indians? Probably not, unless you’re talking about motorcycles or Cleveland’s baseball team, so, Native Americans it is. Although, for my own education I looked into this, and some people prefer to be called American Indian over Native American. One Lakota man from the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation said recently, "If some Indians want to be called Native Americans or Natives, let them be called that, but I was born an Indian and I shall die an Indian.” That sounds so cool the way he says it. I bet it sounds less impressive when you describe comics that way. “If some Comics want to be called Stand-up Comics or Comedians, let them be called that, but I was born a Hack, and I shall die a Hack.” No, I was wrong, it still sounds pretty cool.

Trump should consider himself very lucky that bad deal went down. Just imagine, if they hadn’t made that bad deal, the Native Americans would have been the real estate developers in Manhattan instead of Donald Trump’s dad. And he never would have gotten rich, and never would have become President. Whoa. It’s a revenge curse! President Trump is our payback for ripping off those Indians! I haven’t seen a revenge curse this bad since Craig T. Nelson built his house on a sacred burial ground in ‘Poltergeist’! Of course, the real difference between Native American real estate developers and Donald Trump is that the Native American casinos don’t go bankrupt.

Hey, here’s a really bad deal, how about all the people who paid to enroll in Trump University? Now that might be the “worst deal ever.” So bad that Trump agreed to pay a 25 million dollar settlement to avoid a trial and charges of fraud. Although, in all fairness to Trump, by paying out that 25 million, he actually did make those students wealthy like he promised, all it took was a class action lawsuit against him. Clever move, Mr. Trump. Bravo.

And that is the week that was.

[xdoublev]

Adventures in Ireland! Part Three

Part One can be found here:

http://xdoublev.tumblr.com/post/166020676405/adventures-in-ireland-part-one

Part Two can be found here:

http://xdoublev.tumblr.com/post/166055989300/adventures-in-ireland-part-two

Friday, 9/29

Well the plan had been initially to sleep in, for once, but since we had decided to leave our rental car sitting in the alley until our trip back to Dublin the next day we had another early wake up call. No sleep in Ireland, indeed. I want to say I got up at some horrendous hour, 6am or something, to shower. I had mapped out how far the bus station was that would be taking us on our tour and it was just over a mile, about a half hour walk away. Our bus was to depart at 9:30, and it was suggested we arrive 10 minutes early. So we had plans to leave our hotel no later than 8:40. I went out on a quest for coffee and walked in to the first shop I saw, a Nordic coffee place? They had iced coffee on the menu so I ordered two of those. What I got.. was not what I expected. They gave me two 8 or so oz cups only slightly full with something that resembled a smoothie. It tasted coffee-ish? But definitely not my thing. But hey, new experiences amirite? I ran those back to our hotel room where mom was finishing up getting ready.

We left our hotel room on schedule and made the trek down the main road. It was simple getting there: Go quite a ways down the main road, turn left, and continue to go straight. I had somewhat mastered roads at this point, or at least I knew where to look for the road signs. And it was immensely easier to spot road signs when walking. However, we walked a good bit longer down that first road than I thought we would have to. As 9:20 crept over so closer I first started to get nervous we were going to miss our tour. I don’t think I’ve ever power walked so fast, and my poor mom was hustling behind me trying to keep up. We eventually found our turn and I’m anxiously watching the numbers on the buildings go down as we slowly get closer. About 9:20, we are about a block away when a major intersection comes up and it’s unclear which way to continue walking. Just as I was about to panic, I saw the LED “ALLEN’S TOURS” on the front of a bus in the distance. I sigh out of relief, and we are the last to check in and we get on the bus safely. Crisis averted!

Our first stop was at Carrickfergus Castle, a 12th century castle off the ocean dedicated to King William III. It was a quick stop so we didn’t have time to explore inside the castle, but we got some great shots of the outside. And there was a café nearby where we able to fill up on more sufficient caffeine! Next our bus made its way up a gorgeous coastal highway, with farms to the left of the bus and the beautiful Irish sea to the right. We had another great driver and tour guide who told us all about the towns and some history that we passed along the way. We stopped at the site of the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, but first it was a 20 minute walk up and down some gorgeous cliffs with an amazing view of the Irish Sea. I absolutely fell in love with Northern Ireland. From what I had seen of Belfast I was not super impressed with the city (Especially after such an amazing few days in Galway) but I would 100% go back just to make my way back up north where everything looks like a scene straight out of Broadchurch. The rope bridge had a pretty amazing history dating back centuries to fishers bringing in their catch. The bridge was now reinforced and maintained by their historical society. My Mom and I, both terribly afraid of heights, actually crossed the bridge, not once, BUT TWICE! And it was so worth the views.

Next stop was lunch, a cute café very close to our last stop. Everything on their menu looked excellent. Mom had an Irish stew and I had the absolute best smoked salmon I’ve ever had in my life. The salmon had been caught locally just a few towns over, and I imagine that had a lot to do with it. Next we headed up to Giant’s Causeway, which was really just another amazing view of the Irish Sea from cliffs, but you will never hear me complain about such things! We walked down to the bottom of cliffs where the waves were crashing down on rocks that you could walk out on. After about a hundred more photos (I took more photos on this excursion than I did our whole trip in Ireland) we had a little time left to kill so we killed time in a nearby pub where our driver would be back to get us soon.

Our last stop of the tour was at a spot called the Dark Hedges, which was apparently used in Game of Thrones. I wasn’t particularly interested and it was a very short stop, so we stayed on the bus and appreciated it from afar. Sadly, the way back to Belfast was not along the gorgeous coastal route, but on the normal motorway. But we headed back and got back in to Belfast with just a bit of daylight left. We started to walk back to our hotel and we got rained on. Although I suppose we can’t complain since the rain had waited until after our amazing excursion up north had ended. We were still full from our lunch from before and decided to drink at hotel pub again this evening. I got the idea that we should do post cards while we had our pints, and we had a lot of fun coming up with short stories to tell people on the backs of the post cards. I had my last two Hop House 13’s night. I’ve since checked a couple grocery stores back here in the US and they don’t appear to sell it here. So I’m happy I had as many as I did in Belfast!

Saturday, 9/30

Last full day in Ireland! We woke up early and packed up the room. I made my usual trek to go get coffee, going to a spot further up the road this time and sticking to americanos and even got a tasty blueberry muffin. We checked out of our hotel and the receptionist gave us some tips to easily make our way to the motorway and get to Dublin. We put our suitcases in the trunk of the car and went to kill what few hours we had left in Belfast. First, we located the post office and mailed off our post cards from the evening before. Then we wandered around a park and walked back to the bridge we had crossed several times at this point, but finally had time to appreciate and snap some photos of the water. The rowing team from Queens University was passing under the bridge and it really was a sight to see. We decided before we got on the road to Dublin we needed more fish and chips! So we stopped at one of the many little shops and had lunch. It was a little too greasy for me so early in the day, but delicious nonetheless and had some of the best chips I had our whole time in Ireland. As the afternoon slowly crept by, we needed to make the trek back to Dublin to return our rental car by 5pm.

Rather than saying we got lost, I prefer to say we “unintentionally saw a lot more of the Irish countryside than initially planned on.” What should have been a 2 hour trip turned in to a lot more than that and while it was still a bit stressful, we made it to Dublin to return our car just after 5pm. This all after turning down multiple wrong exits and going on a mad dash for a petrol station when we almost ran out. I blame their signs for not being very clear, hah. We got checked in to our last stay of the trip, the Maldrin, just after 6pm. This was not like our other two hotels and was more like a traditional hotel than a pub, although it was among the nicer hotels I’ve ever stayed in. We were there specifically because it was so close to the airport and we had an early flight the next day. We briefly considered staying in and resting up for our flight. But fuck that! One night in Dublin. Sleep be damned, we were gonna go have a good time.

We took our courtesy airport shuttle bus over to a bus that would take us to the oldest pub in Ireland – The Brazen Head. I figured if we were just gonna go to a pub, might as well go to a landmark pub, right? It took about a thirty minute ride on the top of the double decker bus, the same route we had ridden a few days before, before we got dropped off and found our way to the very packed and decked out pub. We enjoyed a few more pints sitting outside on a lovely last evening. We got to chat with someone visiting from San Francisco on business.

After an hour or so we headed back to our bus stop.. where we learned the hard way that you have to hail the bus if you actually want them to stop (Thanks to our random friend we made from Spain for teaching us how to hail the buses). We got back to our hotel tired but happy.

Sunday, 10/1

The alarm went off.. I don’t know. 4am? I didn’t sleep at all. Was so nervous about oversleeping. Anyways, we shuttled over to the airport. Where we had to go through security twice and then customs. A little jarring so early and with no sleep, but bearable. Upon getting through security I realized that the entire week got away from me and I didn’t buy any souvenirs. So I did some last minute shopping at the airport. And, yeah. That’s it.

This was such an incredible trip. I can’t wait to go on the next adventure <3