Philip J. Fry is the Sweetest and Purest creature. He’s so Pure you have to pair him up with the biggest robot jerk on the planet and the angriest, scariest badass cyclops to ever exist to even it down! He’s the Walking On Sunshine
During Passover, many Jews avoid leavened baked goods to commemorate the hasty exodus from Egypt – which means farewell to pancakes, waffles and biscuits.
So what’s for breakfast during those eight long days? Matzo brei.
For the uninitiated, here’s what passes for a recipe: Take some matzo (aka Passover flatbread) and crumble it into chunks. (If you’ve just had a Seder, encountering leftover matzo should not be a problem.) Soak it in water until just moistened – or fairly soggy, depending on how much crispness you’d like in the finished product – then drain and beat with an egg or two. Fry it up, either scrambled or omelet-style, and serve with a sprinkling of salt – or try sugar or syrup. (The savory and sweet camps each have their devotees.)
ramen regret rater called the limited edition samyang 2x spicy haek buldak bokkeummyeon a testament to the arrogance of man and i have to agree. wow…just wow.
also two fry has developed a little bit of a drinking problem meaning anytime that we go close to a bathroom in the house she wants us to turn on the tap for her to give us a drink which is cute but after a certain point it borders on harassment especially at three o clock in the morning because she gets to sleep in shopping bags all day and i have to go to work
Summary: Dean wakes up with a killer hangover and very little memory of the night before. The reader fills him in.
Word Count: 1,500ish
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: crack, fluff, mentions of drunkenness and bad hangovers
Author’s Note: This was written for @death2thevirgin Cassie’s Classics Challenge. Congratulations on your followers! If you’re not following her, I definitely recommend it. My prompt was “Say "hello” to my little friend,“ and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy!
Dean knows as soon as he wakes up that he is in trouble. His
mouth tastes like something crawled in and died sometime in the last ten hours
and there is a pounding in his head that makes him want to die. The room is
pitch-black; lights off and the door closed. He fumbles for the bedside lamp
and nearly dies when he successfully turns it on. Thank Chuck that whoever put
him in bed had left a puke bucket by the bed. He hasn’t
used it yet, but it is looking like a strong possibility before he notices the
bottle of water and two painkillers beside the lamp.
He groans and makes his way into the kitchen. Sam is
blenderizing something green that was clearly never meant to be eaten for
breakfast. The noise echoes insides Dean’s head, ricochets against the inside
of his skull, and settles as a throbbing between his eyes.
“Dude, what happened last night?” Dean asks.
“You mean you don’t remember?” Sam eyes him, eyebrows
raised. He’s clearly not surprised.
Dean groans in response, letting his head fall to the table
in defeat. “No. Did I get cursed again?”
Sam grimaces as he pulls the eggs and jam from the
refrigerator. “No, just the usual hangover. But when Y/n wakes up, you might
wish you had been cursed.”