I freaking love face day because I get to see everyone’s beautiful faces and I’m a creeper like that. Kinda stealing this idea from kadfight but y’all should reblog this with your instagram names so we can stalk each other more? (But let’s keep the neo talk to a minimum my RL friends can NOT know about that jazz)
EDIT: mine is chlschmbrs btw!
So my brother caught me reading an article about Benedict Cumberbatch:
- Brother: Is that..?
- Me: BENEDICT
- Brother: Sherlock?
- Me: CUMBERBATCH
- Brother: .....
- Me: .....
- Brother: ....
- Me: .....
- Brother: So are you stalking him or something?
- Me: No.
- Brother: .....
- Me: .....
- Brother: ....
- Me: .....
- Me: .....
- Brother: ....
- Me: ....He was at Hooters in California a couple of days ago.
You guys!
You don’t even understand. Patrick Cassels, official unofficial love of my life, tweeted me today. Replying to me. Acknowledging my existence. It’s pathetic and sad but true - I can’t help it. I freaked out. Flipped the eff out. Fetal position, face in hands, crying, laughing, smiling… It happened. I’m happy. I’m ecstatic. I’m fangirling.
Smerchettes and Smerchadores, welcome to my blog! :D
So, this blog is sort of an outlet for my Smerchette self, because it’s been taking up alot of space on my personal blog, so I figured it deserves its own blog. This is where I become the creepy dedicated Smerch fan; everything from Stephen Merchant to Wheatley to animated Ricky Gervais shows to fanart goes here.
IRL I’m happily in a relationship, but…a girl can dream, no? Of course, LGBT friendly, everything friendly….heck, if you’re attracted to inanimate objects you’re welcome here. (We’ve got Wheatley :D ) So, ummm…yeah. Bring on the questions, bring on the love, bring on the sexual frustration that we all have here. All Smerchettes/Smerchadores are welcome.
Oh, and if you’re reading this, Stephen Merchant, then, erm…
get in bed with me It’s a pleasure to meet you, you’re always welcome to come back again. c:
"I follow you."
Waiting for the train in Brooklyn Friday morning, I fiddled with my headphones on the platform. I was heading into the city to interview a hair stylist for an upcoming Style Girlfriend article, and I absentmindedly smoothed my own ‘do while craning my neck towards the dark tunnel, looking for a glimmer of headlights.
The train came, and I planted myself in the middle of the aisle, hanging onto the bar strung above the seated commuters. With one earbud in my ear, I pressed play on a country song I’d been humming all morning and looked around the car. I’ve been trying to engage more with my surroundings (hence only the one earbud), I saw a few disinterested riders, a couple getting awfully snuggly for 10:30 in the morning on a weekday…and Jacob from Tumblr standing right next to me.
Should I say hi? I wondered. Would that be weird? Maybe. Or maybe he’d be flattered? The one time I was recognized from my internet musings made my week (month? life?), but I wasn’t sure he’d welcome a stranger’s attention while trapped in a metal vessel underneath the East River.
If he doesn’t get off at First Avenue, I’ll say something, I told myself, making one of countless insignificant bets that I wager in a day (“If the next song on shuffle is a fast one, I’ll meet my soulmate today..If it’s an even number when I look at my watch, I’m going to have a great day…”).
As the train pulled away from First with both of us still aboard, I caught his eye and smiled.
“Are you…Jacob?” I asked tentatively, hoping I didn’t sound like a complete weirdo.
Funny, then, that my next line after he responded in the bemused affirmative was, “I follow you.”
Are there any three words in the English language that sound creepier when strung together? Only when continued with “home at night” or maybe “around everywhere.”
But he was very sweet and asked me what my blog was called, prompting me to jump on the opportunity to tell him that it was 24isthenew25, which doesn’t really make sense now that I’m about to turn 28, but someone is squatting on my name, but wouldn’t it be great if you could do something about it and here’s my card and thanks so much… I felt like an aspiring actor-waiter dropping his head shot at Jack Nicholson’s table with the dinner bill.
He promised to see what he could do and disembarked at Union Square, leaving me feeling very pleased with myself for being brave enough to say hello. Thankfully, I was headed to Sixth Avenue so I stayed on the train when he got off. I mean, it would have been really creepy if I’d followed him.
