- (sonrisa) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-02-07 00:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | *journal, daniel webster, evangeline sablier, lin alesi, plot: valentine's, regina mills, sam alexander |
public, Daniel W
[Fuzzy timelines.]
So, I've been hella patient, but we're halfway through this thing. Where the fuck is my wish? I cooked an entire turkey and made a nurse split the wishbone with me (and won!), I like, blew out hella candles over a (six+ mo. belated/half-birthday barely belated) birthday cake, I tossed only about 1000 pennies into every fountain I could find in this shitty Vegas, and I watched so many dated gifs of shooting stars and/or breakdancing rats (also cool Spider-Man), bc it was the closest I could get. What more do I have to do here? Do I need to be made of wood? (Pinocchio reference.) I mean, I'm ready to Charles Perault up out of this joint, Jupiter. Give me a nose and I'll wish it into a sausage and/or black pudding. Just like, let's go. I'm feeling left out as balls.
ETA: [Locked to Daniel W]
[We'll say it's while he's waiting for Louis.]
I'm officially checking-in to make sure you didn't wish for something fucking stupid.