When will you make my phone ring?

pale blue eyes

same old house no ties

a little bit older but not so worldly wise

that I can’t see your light’s on me

making me regretfully say:

the wonder of it all bores you

and underneath it all

it wasn’t true

I want you in everything

in everything

in anything I do

when will you make my phone ring

and tell me I can

give you anything

anything at all now

tiny steps

from ruthless legs

but you’ve been walking so long

don’t you rest

from disharmony

from disunity

from anything that isn’t you and me

the wonder of it all bores you

and underneath it all

it wasn’t true

I want you in everything

in everything

in anything I do

when will you make my phone ring

and tell me I can

give you anything

anything at all now

tired of chasing old dreams

tired of wasting days

tired of waking mornings

just to wait for you till late

tired of searching high

tired of getting low

tired of listening hard

just to wait for you to know that

I want you in everything

in everything

in anything I do

when will you make my phone ring

and tell me I can

give you anything

anything at all now

Adventures in Quizville

You go to the pub quiz, quite comfortable in the knowledge that you will probably know less than 50% of the answers, and in fact, you’re half right - your team knows 50% of the answers. Seeing as our team came to a grand total of 2, I think you’ll agree.

Now, when we do a music round, it goes summat like this:
If you don’t know a male singer, write down ‘Kenny Loggins’.
If you don’t know a female singer, write down ‘Linda Ronstadt’.

Don’t ask; it’s a long story. Anyway, there we are, at the quiz, and there’s a question that goes ‘Who was the first European navigator to make it round South America and reach the Pacific?’ Not knowing our history as far as navigators go (Chewie doesn’t count), we left it blank. Until the other half of my team, on a whim, went ‘Lynch!’.

And thus, an A-Team meme was born.

For the rest of the evening, every time a question is asked to which we don’t know the answer, we have to write down a variation on the name ‘Lynch’.

‘Name the two stars of ‘Disclosure’.’ Lynch. And Lynch (no relation).

‘Who was the spy in ‘Colonel Sun’?’ Agent Lynch.

‘What is a hockey puck made of?’ Ground Lynch.

‘Name the (1) most populous and (2) second most populous cities/urban areas of Senegal.’ Lynch City. Isle of Lynch.

‘Where do Grampus 8 play home games?’ Greater Lynchester.

And so it goes. Came second from bottom, but it were bloody good fun! And, perhaps, that’s all that matters. Especially when your team name is ‘I’m Lynch and So’s My Wife’.

Soopytwist.

That which we call 'writing', by any other name would read as awesomesauce

You know when you’re in the middle of writing a book and it’s not writing itself? Ideas dry up and you think: ‘ah bugger, guess I’ll have to leave it a week?’ Well it’s happened to me about three weeks in a row.

Never one to give up writing for longer than a shift at work, I went to something else I’d started but put down in favour of said book. And, ineluctably, here we are: another Supernatural fanfic.


“None Of Your Beeswax”
Rating: Rated T (for Dean).
Summary:
Sam and Dean get mixed up in something rather old and waxy that doesn’t concern them. Don’t you hate it when that happens?
Set during happier times. No spoilers for s4, 5, 6 or 7. Enjoy.
Also up at SupernaturalVille, the home of SPN fan fiction. Now at Fanfic.net, too.
Disclaimer:
I do not own Supernatural or in fact owt but the MacBook Air I typed this on. All I hope to gain from this is reviews. Which, obviously, you can’t bank.

Linky-link-link:






And there you have it. Chapters will be up mid-week and Sunday, just like the good old days!


Peach and lube, people. Peach and lube.