it's always sunny in stars hollow
Jan. 28th, 2008 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wizened_cynic15 second interview clip of SM and her man face:
I love her, masculine jawline and all.
Cutest. Newborn. Ever.
Look Ma, I wrote fic! Yeah, I don't know. I scribbled this last night and as usual it has no point and is really schmoopy. Claire, in the early stages of their relationship.
One of Alex's co-worker has a baby, and brings it around to the office three weeks after the fact, effective reducing workplace productivity down to zero. The infant's name is Isabella, a name which everyone proclaims to be beautiful.
"She even looks like an Isabella," croons the One Who Knits At Her Desk When She Thinks Alex Isn't Looking. She waggles a finger in front of the infant's frightened eyes.
If anything, she looks like a pink slug, Alex thinks. She keeps it to herself, of course, quietly retreating to her room. She's never understood how anyone can physically resemble a name; to her knowledge, no one has ever said she looked like an Alexandra. She simply was (is, she reminds herself) Alexandra.
She doesn't look like a Claire, does she?
Alex observes herself in the mirror later, when she goes to rinse out of coffee mug. She looks like herself, except the Brooks Brothers suits have been replaced with one of Lorelai's hooded sweaters, and her hair's tied back into a loose ponytail, so really, she doesn't look much like herself, doesn't look much like an Alex.
When she gets home, she tells Lorelai over Chinese takeout about baby Isabella, and how she looks like a pink slug, and Lorelai tells her that they usually do look like pink slugs, and they're about as useful as pink slugs until they're around, say, twelve.
"Or whenever they're tall enough to mow the lawn," Lorelai says.
Alex snorts, because she is fairly certain Rory has never mowed a lawn in her entire life. Nor has Lorelai. Alex has, in fact, seen Lorelai flirting with the guy at the gardening store for the sole purpose of acquiring free lawn-mowing services.
"Did Isabella look like an Isabella?" Lorelai asks, breaking the fortune cookie in half.
"What does an Isabella look like?" Alex asks. "If an Isabella looks like a pink slug, then she definitely looks like an Isabella."
"Come on, you just know if an Isabella looks like an Isabella," Lorelai says. "Rory, for instance, looked exactly like a Lorelai. Even when she was three hours old. I always know a Lorelai when I see one."
"How many Lorelai's do you know?"
"Um. Me, Rory, and Gran. Three?" Lorelai scowls through a mouthful of cookie. "Oh, come on. I look like a Lorelai. Rory looks like me, so she looks like a Lorelai. It's logic! It's not like trying to explain what happens in Donnie Darko."
Alex takes the remaining half of the fortune cookie and takes a small, careful bite. It's stale, as usual, sticks to the roof of her mouth like communion wafers, which she's had maybe twice in her previous life as a undutiful Episcopalian.
"You do look like a Lorelai," Alex says, unable to imagine Lorelai with any other name. A rose is a rose for a reason, and Lorelai is Lorelai.
"And you look like a Claire," Lorelai says.
"Yeah? What does a Claire look like?"
"Like she wants to go get ice cream, watch Mary Poppins, and then have sex?"
"In that order?"
"We could skip the Mary Poppins."
Alex smiles reflexively, turning her gaze down to the little strip of paper between her fingers, so that Lorelai can't bask in it. The fortune gives her the usual pretentious advice, in this case, that persistence can grind an iron beam into a needle.
"Who'd want to do that?" Lorelai asks on their way to Taylor's ice cream parlor.
Taylor's frown grow deeper and deeper as Lorelai takes her time choosing through the flavors, and by the time she's finally settled on mint chocolate chip and peanut butter fudge ripple, he physically resembles the tragedy half of one of those comedy-tragedy masks.
"You're holding up the line," he accuses.
"There is no line," Alex says.
"There could very well be a line," Taylor says. "You'd be slowing down my business. Efficacy is the most important thing when it comes to running a business."
"And soup," says Lorelai.
Taylor's frown turns into an expression of bewilderment. "What?"
"Soup's important," Lorelai says.
Alex nods. "Soup's very important."
"It'll be $3.95, please," Taylor says impatiently, and Alex nudges Lorelai out of the store before Lorelai could continue her ode to soup.
Outside, the light from the OLDE FASHION SODA SHOPPE above bounces off the window, and Lorelai stops, pointing at their reflection.
"There," she says, "that is what Claire looks like."
Alex looks, and all she sees is herself.
TEN DAYS UNTIL CHINESE NEW YEAR! YAYS!!!!!
I love her, masculine jawline and all.
Cutest. Newborn. Ever.
Look Ma, I wrote fic! Yeah, I don't know. I scribbled this last night and as usual it has no point and is really schmoopy. Claire, in the early stages of their relationship.
One of Alex's co-worker has a baby, and brings it around to the office three weeks after the fact, effective reducing workplace productivity down to zero. The infant's name is Isabella, a name which everyone proclaims to be beautiful.
"She even looks like an Isabella," croons the One Who Knits At Her Desk When She Thinks Alex Isn't Looking. She waggles a finger in front of the infant's frightened eyes.
If anything, she looks like a pink slug, Alex thinks. She keeps it to herself, of course, quietly retreating to her room. She's never understood how anyone can physically resemble a name; to her knowledge, no one has ever said she looked like an Alexandra. She simply was (is, she reminds herself) Alexandra.
She doesn't look like a Claire, does she?
Alex observes herself in the mirror later, when she goes to rinse out of coffee mug. She looks like herself, except the Brooks Brothers suits have been replaced with one of Lorelai's hooded sweaters, and her hair's tied back into a loose ponytail, so really, she doesn't look much like herself, doesn't look much like an Alex.
When she gets home, she tells Lorelai over Chinese takeout about baby Isabella, and how she looks like a pink slug, and Lorelai tells her that they usually do look like pink slugs, and they're about as useful as pink slugs until they're around, say, twelve.
"Or whenever they're tall enough to mow the lawn," Lorelai says.
Alex snorts, because she is fairly certain Rory has never mowed a lawn in her entire life. Nor has Lorelai. Alex has, in fact, seen Lorelai flirting with the guy at the gardening store for the sole purpose of acquiring free lawn-mowing services.
"Did Isabella look like an Isabella?" Lorelai asks, breaking the fortune cookie in half.
"What does an Isabella look like?" Alex asks. "If an Isabella looks like a pink slug, then she definitely looks like an Isabella."
"Come on, you just know if an Isabella looks like an Isabella," Lorelai says. "Rory, for instance, looked exactly like a Lorelai. Even when she was three hours old. I always know a Lorelai when I see one."
"How many Lorelai's do you know?"
"Um. Me, Rory, and Gran. Three?" Lorelai scowls through a mouthful of cookie. "Oh, come on. I look like a Lorelai. Rory looks like me, so she looks like a Lorelai. It's logic! It's not like trying to explain what happens in Donnie Darko."
Alex takes the remaining half of the fortune cookie and takes a small, careful bite. It's stale, as usual, sticks to the roof of her mouth like communion wafers, which she's had maybe twice in her previous life as a undutiful Episcopalian.
"You do look like a Lorelai," Alex says, unable to imagine Lorelai with any other name. A rose is a rose for a reason, and Lorelai is Lorelai.
"And you look like a Claire," Lorelai says.
"Yeah? What does a Claire look like?"
"Like she wants to go get ice cream, watch Mary Poppins, and then have sex?"
"In that order?"
"We could skip the Mary Poppins."
Alex smiles reflexively, turning her gaze down to the little strip of paper between her fingers, so that Lorelai can't bask in it. The fortune gives her the usual pretentious advice, in this case, that persistence can grind an iron beam into a needle.
"Who'd want to do that?" Lorelai asks on their way to Taylor's ice cream parlor.
Taylor's frown grow deeper and deeper as Lorelai takes her time choosing through the flavors, and by the time she's finally settled on mint chocolate chip and peanut butter fudge ripple, he physically resembles the tragedy half of one of those comedy-tragedy masks.
"You're holding up the line," he accuses.
"There is no line," Alex says.
"There could very well be a line," Taylor says. "You'd be slowing down my business. Efficacy is the most important thing when it comes to running a business."
"And soup," says Lorelai.
Taylor's frown turns into an expression of bewilderment. "What?"
"Soup's important," Lorelai says.
Alex nods. "Soup's very important."
"It'll be $3.95, please," Taylor says impatiently, and Alex nudges Lorelai out of the store before Lorelai could continue her ode to soup.
Outside, the light from the OLDE FASHION SODA SHOPPE above bounces off the window, and Lorelai stops, pointing at their reflection.
"There," she says, "that is what Claire looks like."
Alex looks, and all she sees is herself.
TEN DAYS UNTIL CHINESE NEW YEAR! YAYS!!!!!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: read them all...
Date: 2008-01-29 05:31 pm (UTC)Anyone else? Bring it on!
I have a Chinese zodiac book around here somewhere... maybe I can find it.
(yeah, right... I have been here more than a year and still cannot find some shit I KNOW I packed...)
Oh- BTW... SVU is a rerun tonight. The one with Elizabeth McGovern playing the government torture doctor.
~yawn~
Re: read them all...
Date: 2008-01-30 01:57 am (UTC)Yawning is about right.
Re: read them all...
Date: 2008-01-30 09:53 pm (UTC)And yet, we keep watching...
I think it may be time for SM to come back to NY for some ridiculous reason.
Although she may be a bit put off by Olivia and her wardrobe of Frills & Fug.