That wasn’t the only painful experience to come out of that night. Apparently, after I passed out, Tommy and Nikki made me the subject of a photo shoot: they took a picture of my face, with Tommy’s balls dangling above it, and the next morning made copies of it, had them laminated, and passed them out to everyone on the tour. I think the photo even became the official image for their All Access pass. I’d been tea-bagged for all the world to see.
the part of Slash’s book that made me die laughing
best cal parts of the book, u can’t tell me different ok.
Gasping from exertion and heat, I smack him in the ribs until he rolls away. He does so slowly, lazily, almost drifting off to sleep. Instead, he goes too far and falls right off the narrow bed onto the hard, laminated floor. That wakes him up. He vaults forward, black hair sticking up at angles, naked as a newborn.
The driver behind the wheel pushes down his sunglasses, eyeing me over the brim.
He cocks his head to side, a picture of innocence. He even claps his hand to his chest, forcing a false gasp as if to say Who, me?
Sherlock has like 14 different hair gels and they all have very specific purposes based on the day’s temperature, humidity levels, what sort of plans he has made for the day, etc. Each bottle is labeled and its uses are catalogued in a little notebook he keeps under the sink. The pages are laminated so it doesn’t get all wet and ruined when it’s in the splash-zone (that’s what John calls the rest of the loo when his posh boyfriend is doing his hair). John thinks that this system and all of the time Sherlock has put into organizing it is absolutely adorable. He especially loves the fact that there is one bottle on the shelf labeled only with a heart, which - according to the catalogue - is reserved for “dates with John.” He loves the smell of it. It smells like home.