So, I have drunk a lot of beer, because it is Grand Final day here in my hometown, which is only the greatest sporting event ever, and drinking a lot of beer and having a BBQ is part of the ritual. And St Kilda got beaten, which makes me sad, because even though they aren't my team I was barracking for them because my football boyfriend (to differentiate him from my TV boyfriend, literature boyfriend and my friend-who-you-would-date-if-you-had-the-choice boyfriend), ahem, my football boyfriend is Nick Riewoldt. He's blonde, which isn't usually my gig, but there's just something about him that I love, which may or may not be his very awesome pecs and his very fine ass. And when they lost my sister called, and she's all like, "Did you see your football boyfriend crying?" and I was all, "Yes, and I would have comforted him if I was his girlfriend." My sister is awesome.
But I got home an hour ago, and was hungry enough to eat something, but not hungry enough for an actual meal, so now I am drinking more beer (why not?), watching S3 NCIS, and eating Shapes Chicken Crimpy biscuits that my grandma gave my sister when we went to dinner during the week.
These biscuits bother me on two fronts:
1. Chicken flavour as it applies to foodstuffs that are not chicken is weird, and is a sure-fire advertisement for FAKE CHEMICAL CRAP THAT I SHOULD NOT BE EATING.
2. Crimpy? Seriously, CRIMPY? What even is that? Is it referring to the shape of the biscuit? Or is a reference to somebody who had an accident with a crimping iron?
I still have our old crimping iron around here somewhere, I'm sure.
In other news, this morning, before I started drinking beer and eating meat and yelling, "Ball!" at the TV, I wrote like, THIRTEEN pages of a fic about Michael Weatherly and Cote de Pablo. I am somewhat alarmed by my own brain, and terrified of where it is taking me. But, have you seen their interviews? I mean, really. What the hell else is my brain supposed to think?
I really shouldn't post when I've drunk this much beer.