the deb of night

  • someone: are you excited for this night out??
  • me: more nervous than excited
  • someone: are you excited for college??
  • me: more nervous than excited
  • someone: are you excited for anything??
  • me: more nervous than exci

It wasn’t until we were driving home from dinner that my wife Diane told me that the chips and guacamole I had been eating hadn’t been meant for the entire table.

“Deb and Gary ordered it for themselves when you were in the restroom.”

“What!?  But I thought that everybody was…”

“Nope, just you.”

“Oh no!”

Diane slouched casually down in the passenger seat and kicked her feet up on the glove box.

“It was strange,” she said.  "Your face was so red and contorted.  It was like you were eating just to see if you could eat everything.“

In a cold sweat I thought back to the dinner and realized that my wife’s description was spot on.  Not only had I partaken in the chips and guacamole, I had been attacking them like a starved animal.  At one point I was even rhythmically alternating between hands the way a boxer might attack a heavy bag.  Left chip, Right chip. Dip, dip.  Eat, eat.

"You couldn’t have told me?” I asked weakly.

“We were trying to tell you without making a big deal out of it,” said Diane.  "I called your phone a couple times and I know Greg was trying to kick you.“

"That was Greg?  Christ, I thought that was you!”

And in fact, I HAD noticed the kicking.  Thinking it had been a rare moment of erotic spontaneity from my wife, I had returned the ‘kick’ by removing a dress shoe and pinning my opponent’s leg with a single stocking foot before sliding my toes inquiringly up and along the length of the accompanying inner-thigh.

“How did Greg seem when we left?” I asked.

After Diane went to bed that evening, I sat awake sipping whiskey sours and replaying the evening’s events in my head.  It wasn’t until after my third or so drink that I decided it was best to simply call up Deb and Gary to apologize and explain the miscommunication.  But I was unprepared!

“Hello?” answered a groggy voice.

“Avocados,” I slurred.

“Who is this?”

I hung up.  

The next morning it dawned on me that probably every single phone had Caller ID.  I wanted to ask Diane if Deb and Gary had Caller ID, but in a way that seemed casual so as not to reveal my actions from the night before.

Over coffee I said, “So last night Barb was telling me that Deb and Gary don’t have Caller ID.  Haha!  Man!  Is that even true?”

“Why would Barb say that?”

“She just did, goddammit!”

Jo-Ann Fabrics
Cecil Baldwin, Meg Byashwiner, Joseph Fink(?)

Find out where your kids can get byack to school things, such as byags, fyalconry gear, and more!

I’ve listened to this bit five times now, and laughed out loud every time. 

ASOIAF AUS: Sansa & Margaery, D.E.B.S. AU.

International diamond thief Margaery Tyrell, a.k.a “Blood Rose,” is one of the world’s most notorious criminal masterminds. Sansa Stark is the crown jewel of the D.E.B.S. elite task force, known as the “North Star” for her unflinching morals and honor in the face of duty. When their paths cross on a chance stakeout encounter, things take an unexpected turn. Is this what it feels like to fall for the enemy?

  Sansa sprinted through the rows of shipping crates with her pistol steady at her hip, rounding the corner only to run headfirst into the infamous mastermind her squad had been chasing down for hours: Margaery Tyrell.
  Sansa ducked swiftly and backed away, adrenaline buzzing in her veins. For a moment they stared at each other, chests heaving – then Sansa grabbed her gun, swinging it out as the other woman did the same.
  “You’re Margaery Tyrell,” she said, heart racing, taking a few sideways steps to gain her balance. Her voice echoed against the concrete walls of the warehouse.
  “And you’re a D.E.B.,” the diamond thief countered, making it sound like an accusation. She didn’t even flinch at the barrel of Sansa’s pistol in her face – although that might have been because her own gun was pointed squarely at Sansa. It was a standoff.
  Sansa licked her lips, casing the situation. Up close, Margaery Tyrell wasn’t half as scary as she’d expected. Strands of long wavy brown hair clung to the thief’s sweaty forehead, the same way her tight black top clung to her body. The face that Sansa had only seen scowling and half-obscured in grainy security camera footage was drawn in concentration, and she was giving Sansa a bold, fierce look like she wasn’t scared at all.
  Sansa, on the other hand, wasn’t alarmed, just – okay, so she was a little shocked to see Margaery Tyrell in the flesh. After all, no one had ever met this woman and lived to tell the tale. Logically Sansa should be scared, but all she could feel was surprise that the most famous diamond thief in the world was so… hot.
  The criminal moved her gun up and down slightly as if sighting along the barrel, but her brown eyes over the black casing raked Sansa’s body with what looked like real interest. Sansa suddenly felt lightheaded, and not with fear. “You should put down your gun,” she said coolly.
  “Only if you do,” the diamond thief retorted, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.
  Sansa blinked. “Well, seeing as I’m the cop and you’re the criminal, I think you should put down your gun first.”
  “Riiight.” Margaery started to shift her weight onto her right hip, and Sansa flicked off her gun’s safety with a sharp crack. “Don’t even try it. I know that’s your signature move.”
  Margaery went still, the muscles in her abdomen pulsing in and out as she controlled her breathing. Then the corner of her mouth twitched up with wry amusement. “You studied me.”
  “No.” Sansa paused, then sighed. “Yes. I’m writing my thesis on you for my class, Gender Construction and the Criminal Mastermind.”
  The criminal mastermind in question tilted her head quizzically. “That’s a class?”
  “Yes. They teach us a lot at D.E.B.S. Academy, you know.”
  “Oh, more than just how to handle classified firearms and look great in tiny skirts?” Margaery quipped, glancing down at the plaid uniform skirt that barely brushed Sansa’s mid-thigh. Sansa’s mouth fell open slightly. When she looked up at the other woman Margaery’s expression was more suited for a blind date than a stakeout impasse.
  Sansa’s brain was shorting out. “Uh. Um. But it’s difficult to write this paper because there’s only anecdotal evidence. And I’m kind of freaking out because I never expected to see you in person, and because no one has ever actually… seen you.”
  Margaery was smiling wider now. “Except you.”
  “Except me, I guess,” Sansa echoed, something stirring in her chest.
  Margaery cleared her throat, voice rich with something new. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
  Sansa stashed her gun under her arm, embarrassed that she hadn’t introduced herself sooner. “Oh! I’m Sansa Stark, D.E.B.S. Sector One.”
  “It’s… really nice to meet you,” Margaery said slowly, switching her pistol to her left hand to accept Sansa’s handshake. Her skin’s really soft, Sansa thought, momentarily forgetting everything else.
  Suddenly the sounds of loud footsteps and voices echoed through the warehouse. “Sansa!” came Daenerys’ voice. Sansa cocked her gun again. “You should really put down your gun,” she advised the woman in front of her, “if you want to get out of here alive.”
  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Margaery said lightly.
  “Sansa!” Dany yelled again. “I’m right here!” Sansa turned to shout, not taking her eyes off the diamond thief—but then she blinked, and Margaery was gone. Damn it, how did she do that? A few seconds later, Sansa’s squad appeared at a full sprint. "Sansa, what happened out there?” Missandei demanded, striding up to her.
  Sansa’s arms shook as she lowered her gun. “I… just saw Margaery Tyrell.”
  Dany’s eyes went wide. “Sansa, do you know what this means? You’re the only person to ever see Margaery Tyrell… and live.”
  “I guess so,” Sansa said, feeling dizzy. As her squad bundled her off to record exit patterns and call into HQ, Sansa couldn’t stop thinking about it. So she didn’t kill me… Does that mean that she likes me? Or did I just get very, very lucky?

Cocksure Entertainment has released the teaser poster and trailer for Night of the Living Deb. Directed by Kyle Rankin (Infestation), this looks like a fun indie horror comedy.

Maria Thayer (Forgetting Sarah Marshall), Michael Cassidy (The O.C.), Ray Wise (Twin Peaks) and Chris Marquette (Freddy vs. Jason) star.

After a girls’ night out, endearingly awkward Deb wakes up in the apartment of the most attractive guy in Portland, Maine. She’s thrilled, but she can’t remember much of what got her there. Pretty boy Ryan only knows it was a mistake and ushers her out the door… into a full-scale zombie apocalypse. Now, a walk of shame becomes a fight for survival as the mismatched pair discovers that the only thing scarier than trusting someone with your life… is trusting them with your heart.

anonymous asked:

PTA AU Prom night?

(Isn’t that like your Debs Night in America? I think?)

  • Jeff and LJ are hanging around the back and watching everyone. They don’t dance.
  • One of the PTA Moms™ came up to Clocky and Jane said they had to dance. Jane immediately pulls Clockwork into a slow dance. They started dating afterwards. The Mom left.
  • Liu is there with Lost, who’s animatedly talking to Glitchy about how everyone is having fun. They’re all happy.
  • Ben managed to set up all the tech, and has disappeared along with Toby and Kate. If the three of them ever go missing together, shit’s about to go down.
  • Tim and Brian are sitting by the wall and talking. They’re not sure why they went, but they’re enjoying themselves nonetheless. Whether they danced by the end of the night is up to you.
  • EJ and his friends stayed home. They’re marathoning every horror movie they have, which is a lot.
  • Reed and Noah agreed to supervise. They’re managing everything pretty well, and get to dance eventually.

anonymous asked:

a 13 going on 30 au where 13 yr old annabeth who has a crush on percy wakes up next day as a 30 yr old (with the 13yr old annabeths brain) next to a NAKED OLDER PERCY o_O

a/n: i bet no one thought i was going to finish this. well, in that case, you were right, and you’ll see why if you read.

hello (is that you in there?)

There’s probably no better way to wake up than with a headache harboring enough force to render your eyes temporarily useless. Her dad would say something like, “Pain builds character” or “It’s better than being dead.” She likes to think so, at least.

Annabeth feels only the throbbing inside her skull and nothing else; she can’t force her eyelids to peel open and let in the light of dawn, no matter how insistent her internal clock is about urging her awake. (Early riser. She’s never been able to sleep later than the time it takes for morning sunlight to swallow the sky.)

With a ragged sigh, she throws both of her arms over her head and groans, tucking into a ball to delay the inevitability of getting up and stretching her curiously sore limbs. She wonders for a moment why her body feels so heavy, why her joints ache like lego bricks slammed into place.

Her sheets. She pauses, stuffing her nose into the cotton material. They smell… different.

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