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fandomtownies2011-05-02 08:00 am
shagthis.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomtownies2011-05-02 08:00 am
Entry tags:
Caritas, Monday
Jake wasn't the kind of guy who usually bothered with politics, but today? Today he had his laptop out on the bar and was refreshing the CBC's website at random intervals, hoping to get updates on election numbers. And there were no sports to be found on the TV in the lounge: just Peter Mansbridge's election night coverage.
"Stupid west coast," he muttered to himself. Why'd they have to be so far behind everyone else, anyway?
[ooc: up early because I have to work. and yes, it's another election reference. SHUT UP, it's not like this sort of thing happens all that oft- er. nevermind.]
"Stupid west coast," he muttered to himself. Why'd they have to be so far behind everyone else, anyway?
[ooc: up early because I have to work. and yes, it's another election reference. SHUT UP, it's not like this sort of thing happens all that oft- er. nevermind.]
Stage!
Who won at Waterloo,
But there's a good old Irishman
I'll mention unto you.
He comes from dear old Dublin,
He's a man we all applaud,
For he always finds a corkscrew
Far more handy than a sword.
He's good old General Guinness,
He's a soldier strong and stout.
He's found on every bottlefront,
And he can't be done without!
His noble name has world-wide fame,
Deserves three hearty cheers,
Hurrah for General Guinness of the Dublin Booziliers!
Bar!
Is worshipped in the ranks,
For he does his task inside the cask,
As well as in the tanks.
And he bears the brunt on every front,
North, south, east, and west,
And he wears about ten million
Canteen medals on his chest.
Lounge!
He has won the world's applause.
'Twas him who kept our spirits up
In the midst of all our wars.
Who was the first to flirt
With Mademoiselle from Armentieres?
Why good old General Guinness
Of the Dublin Booziliers.
Back Room!
The General is seen.
They've given him the freedom
Of the "toon" of Aberdeen.
From Inverness to Galashiels,
He keeps them warm and bright,
And they love to gather 'round him,
Och, on every moonlit night.
He's good old General Guiness,
He's as good as Scottish broth,
'Twas him who turned the Firth of Forth
Into the Firth of Froth.
All Scotsman yell and dance
The Highland Fling when he appears,
Hurrah for General Guinness of the Dublin Booziliers.
OOC!
Re: Bar!
Bo: had finally decided to make the trek back to her car this morning to get at least some of her stuff.
Bo: had been greeted outside her newly-repaired door by a 30 degree drop in temperature and at the end of the causeway by guys in fur hats babbling at her in Swedish or something. Not that their meaning wasn't perfectly clear, and in another couple days she might have to consider taking one of them up on it, because wherever the hell that was at the end of the road, it was not Maryland.
Bo: would like a double, please. "Could I have a shot of something strong enough to convince me I'm not hallucinating Finland out there?"
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
[Agh sorry! Headache meant craaaashyface.]
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
That really wasn't a cheerful thought, so Bo went with, "Just coincidence, I guess? But if you tell me your name and pour me that drink, I'd be happy to be a different woman of your acquaintance."
The flirting was genetic. Sorry.
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
"So, Jake Doyle. This island." She wasn't sure what to ask after that, and solved the problem with a gulp of rum instead. Which was brilliant, of course. Thus the cough, though at least she had the dignity not to choke on it. Her final, carefully considered query was, "What the hell?"
Re: Bar!
Re: Bar!
Strange things happened, yes, but Bo was only used to strange things happening because of her.