booze tips

It’s at a comedy level of complete farce now and I’m pretty sure B/n will fail to sell Boe as badly as D sells M/arren  (if Zoe’s recent party video is anything to measure their chemistry against), but I’m sure PR will force a double date pic on us within the month.  

You know a simple low key explanation by D of why B/n lives in the pr house would have been more effective than what’s happening with B/n now, but then you have to factor in the unpredictable M/a.  As it seems when D ignores M/a she pulls some stunt, like the recent valentine Snap-chat pics and D then goes thru silly staged photo ops to rectify her mess and now B/ns roped in too and we get this fiasco where no seems to have any self respect anymore. 

Last night is another example of red carpet pictures where D looks miserable, whilst M Tries to sell her sinking ship desperately by smiling.  Note the moment the photographers ask them to get closer.  D doesn’t move - she does. Then look at the backstage pics with other people where D is laughing and joking.  It’s obvious to those who look there is no chemistry and D shows this blatantly and consistently whenever he does these events with her.  

I actually cringe for all parties involved in this, just stop!!

I don’t know what stops D running from this mess, but I wish he would.

That’s My Girl -- Bughead Au

Word Count: 1,828

Rated: PG-13

A/N: Because Protective!Juggie is something we could all use a little more of in our lives. (Also on AO3)

Jughead Jones found his fortune at the bottom of whiskey bottle. The new bartender at his usual spot already knew his order, double shot of Jameson and Coke. All he had to do was sit down at the far end of the bar and the blonde haired bartender was already pouring his drink. Tonight was different.

“You drank us out of Jameson last night, Mr. Jones.” The young woman behind the bar rested on her elbows on her side of the bar. There was only one other person sitting halfway down from Jughead in the small, desolate bar. “You want me to get you something else?”

“Just get me some of your cheapest whiskey. And I told you, call me Jughead. Mr. Jones is my father’s name; I’m far too young for that.”

“Coming right up, Mr. Jones.” She teased.

The girl, Betty, took her time. She didn’t have to reach for the cheap bottle of whiskey on the bottom shelf. Jughead watched as she mixed the two brown liquids and placed a yellow straw in the drink. She returned with the drink, but instead of going back to work, she hopped up to sit on the bar in front of Jughead.

“Is there something you want from me?” Jughead asked, taking a swig of his drink.

“Not a thing.” Betty responded. “As you can see, there’s not much going on in this shit hole.”

“So what are you doing working in this dive then?”

“What are you doing drinking in a dive like this?” She threw back.

Jughead grinned, this girl was sharp. “I asked first.”

Betty paused before answering and took a drink from a glass of water from under the bar. “The last place I worked shut down. This job is just a filler until my next opportunity comes around.”

“And what would that be?”

“I could show you sometime.” She teased. Hopping off the bar, she pulled a pen from behind her ear and started scribbling on a napkin. “Stick around until close and I’ll give you a private show.” Jughead raised an eyebrow as Betty slid the napkin to him, revealing ten digits of a phone number. “I’m a dancer, you could say.”

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anonymous asked:

Quick tip for booze rackin for all ur followers! Safew@ys and Tr@der Jo*s are GOLD MINES. What I do is pick up however many bottles I want lay them in the bottom of my basket n then cover them w bags of chips other misc groceries. Go into a bathroom w ur basket load the booze into ur purse or backpack and either walk out and put other groceries back or purchase! Super easy, super slick, works every time! And u can make bank of bottles so u can actually buy groceries for yourself! Love ur blog 💕

thanks for the advice but walking into the bathroom with your groceries seems super sus! wouldn’t recommend this plan to other lifters tbh

Harry makes it 5 weeks before he has his first paperwork related breakdown.

Ron flicks him between the eyes when he shows up at Weasley’s Wizard Weezes. It’s dark inside, has been since the Battle of Hogwarts, but Harry knows where the side door is. “Merlin’s Shorts, Harry, you couldn’t have kept it together another week? I had 5 galleons riding on you making it 6!”

“What.” Harry says flatly, still caught in the doorway between the smokey warmth of the store and the frigid wind of the outside.

Ron sighs, and pulls Harry inside. Harry’s skin goosepimples at the sudden change and he has to take off his glasses to rub the fog off them. He can’t see anything for a few moments, everything bright colors and strange shapes as Ron talks. 

“You’ve been running yourself ragged mate, plus the Ministry always makes you go a bit off your rocker if you take yourself too seriously. Which you do,” Ron says, poking Harry in the stomach. Harry has to consciously relax his grip on his wand at the sudden touch and swallow down the curse on his tongue. He doesn’t remember going for it.

“Seriously, Harry – take a breather. Go take a walk. Have a butterbeer or two, or three! Hell, have a firewhiskey. Go take Ginny to the movies, and then write me 10 inches on it because I want to make sure you’re actually watching the movie.” Harry finally manages to put his glasses on. When he does, Ron’s face is painfully open. “The war’s over Harry. You don’t have to save us all anymore.”

Harry decides not to tell him that his breakdown had mostly been him throwing the never ever ending stack of papers out the window as he screamed that he didn’t save the world so he could spend his life on paperwork. That he was supposed to be dead, and not have to deal with this shit anymore.

Harry thinks he might have made his secretary cry. He hopes not, she was always so nice – she even brought him cookies that she made from scratch, no wand work necessary. He thinks her name is Amanda Cartwright – her son had been a Ravenclaw two years below him. It’s so weird being the boss of people so much older than him. Maybe he should be used to it, but he never felt like the boss of anything while he was fighting Voldemort. That was mostly Hermione.

(Ben Cartwright’d died – not at the Battle of Hogwarts, but from his wounds a few days later. Amanda kept his hair in a locket. She’d showed him the first day, after she’d thanked him for what he did. Perfunctorily not tearfully thank god. It’s also weird being surrounded by the memories of the dead, but he’s used to that at least)

“I need a drink,” Harry sighs, and makes a mental note to apologize to Amanda tomorrow. He already knows he’s going back. He thinks wistfully of getting on Buckbeak and flying somewhere hot and sandy, and then just never coming back. It shouldn’t be harder to live after the war than during it.

“Damn straight.” Ron says, and hustles him into the backroom, where he seems to have built a magical still. It looks like something out of a horror movie, but Ron seems affronted when Harry laughs so he makes an extra effort to compliment the booze.

He has no idea why Ron is making his alcohol when all either of them would have to do is step outside to be offered a free drink. Or a free dinner. Or a free broom. Or a free night, with anyone they so much as glance at.

Then again, maybe he does.

“Ya see,” Ron slurs at him after his sixth goblet of whatever it is the still is burping up. It’s orange as a sunset and burns like molten gold going down though, so Harry’s not complaining. Better than their last goblet, which had been white and stung their eyes until they started crying. Every goblet is different (magic, he still finds himself thinking exasperatedly, even after all these years) but Harry makes this one last. He doesn’t think he can bear the idea of another white one. Ron’s eyes are still red and puffy as he says again, “Ya see.”

Harry waits. Ron mumbles something into his booze, then tips over and falls asleep.

Harry kicks him. It takes a few times for him to hit the right Ron – he’s managed to duplicate himself somehow. Magic, Harry thinks disgustedly. “Ya see what Ron?” He asks the one that’s moving the least. 

“Everything,” Ron breathes. “Ev’ry time I close my eyes I see it.” He opens one bleary eye at Harry. There are still tears in it, and Harry wishes they had stopped before the white booze. “Why though?” He asks. “We won, didn’t we?” It’s an honest question, and Harry tries to tell him yeah, mate, we won. It’s harder than it used to be.

Harry throws up on him instead. Luckily it seems like he hit one of the magic Rons, because Ron just rolls away and emerges unscathed. The last thing he thinks before he passes out is that he misses Quidditch. At least there, you can see the score and know who’s really won.

(written and submitted by the marvelous rainbowrites. ♥)

Surviving A Singles Valentine's Day

Tip 1: Commiserate with your fellow single, hate-this-holiday friends/co-workers/hermits:

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Tip 2: Make plans with said friends, put on comfy clothes, get some ice cream, order some Chinese take-out, and remember the booze:

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Tip 3: Remind yourself some relationships are worth no longer being in:

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And Tip 4: Avoid getting a cat. If you have a cat(s), avoid getting more:

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Best of luck, singletons! Have a chocolate bar on me :)