anyone else planning on going to coachella this year? I know it’s not for a few months but it’d be nice to see a few familiar faces. gotta start preparing ahead of time otherwise you’ll probably end up getting lost.
Interesting that both Kirsten and Paff both hide their cunning and evil behind traditionally ‘feminine’ *cough* characteristics. Kirsten presents herself as beautiful, meek, and love-struck. Paff plays herself as nervous, mousy, and clumsy
But everyone pays the price for underestimating them. Just because a girl had her heart broken or likes wearing ribbons and pink nightdresses does not mean she is weak and silly
wheres the fic where Clark Kent gets caught kissing Batman, and then gets hounded by the media every waking moment because “average civilian is dating Batman!!” and Clarks mourning the loss of his anonymity, meanwhile Bruce thinks its fucking hilarious, enjoy dealing w the press in both of your alter egos now, pretty boy, so Clark waits several months for the whole thing to die down before showing up as Superman to some party Bruce is attending and flying up to Bruce and going “paybacks a bitch” and just full on makes out with him in front of like a million reporters
The [2009 Copenhagen climate change] summit had developed into another grudge match between the developed and developing worlds. China, India, and Brazil were refusing to sign an agreement that would commit them to even incremental steps to curb emissions. Diplomats from 193 countries wandered the bright hallways of the Bella Center in a state of fretful energy.
With failure looming, [Secretary of State Hillary] Clinton telephoned [President] Obama and urged him to fly to Copenhagen to try to break the deadlock. His political advisers were opposed, not wanting to pull the boss away from a crowded domestic agenda for a diplomatic caper that looked as if it was going to end badly. Obama, though, had promised, like Clinton, to get serious about climate change. He trusted her diagnosis: that only the American President could broker a compromise. So on the evening of December 3, 2009, he ordered Air Force One fueled up for a flight to Denmark.
Twenty-four hours later, he was being briefed by an exasperated Clinton inside a small coffee bar in a shopping mall adjacent to the conference center that had been closed for the meeting. When it became clear that the Chinese delegation was trying to water down any agreement, holing up in a conference room with windows taped over to conceal their dealings from the Americans, Obama and Clinton decided to take matters into their own hands. They set off to confront the Chinese in person, fast-walking down a hallway and up a flight of stairs, panicked aides in chase, before they ran into a Chinese official in the doorway, waving his arms and shouting, “Not ready yet.”
Confusion swirled as Clinton and Obama tried to find out who was in the room with the Chinese. An advance person told them it was the Indians, the Brazilians, and the South Africans. Now Clinton was mad: The Indians had told American officials they had already left for the airport. A major developing country was lying to avoid dealing with the United States on climate change? She and Obama looked at each other in disbelief. “C’mon, let’s just do this,” he said to Clinton. She moved first, ducking under the outstretched arm of a Chinese security guard and barging into the room, which drew a collective gasp from the leaders huddled around a conference table. Obama was right behind her. “Hi, everybody!” he bellowed, like a dad coming home early to find his teenage kids throwing a keg party in the backyard. “Mr. Prime Minister, are you ready to see me now?” he said, turning to face the nonplussed Chinese premier, Wen Jiabao, who was anything but.
This story about President Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton teaming up like they were in a buddy-cop movie and crashing a meeting at the Copenhagen climate change summit is one of my favorite anecdotes from the Obama Administration.
Can you trust him?” She asks, the cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Can tell him anything without feeling judged? Can you call him and know he’ll answer, or call back as soon as he can? If you’re hurt, and I mean really hurt, will he drop everything and get to you as soon as he can? Will he be there for you when someone you love dies? Will he look after you if you’re sick? Will he hold your hair back after too many tequilas? Will he be there? Does he try to see you, even if he has work early or a busy week?” She holds my gaze as she brings the cigarette to her berry lips. “If the answer is no to any of those things, maybe he’s not the one?
Excerpt from the book I’ll never write// alter ego advice