![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My brain, she is broken. Why? Because last night, I dreamed that I was married to Mac Taylor and gave up having a two-night stand with Flack because I loved Mac too much to hurt him.
What the hell, brain? And the really weird part was that Mac was so totally Mac--workaholic, head-in-a-casefile, sex-can-wait--but he was also the best husband ever. At some point, I got into trouble on a scaffolding that was threatening to collapse(Damn if I know how I got a wheechair on a catwalk thirty feet off the concrete floor; maybe it was a futuristic hoverchair), and Mac, who was cuffing a perp, became Action!Mac, dropped the perp on her face, and saved me. Afterwards, I apologized for boffing Flack, and then I woke up.
As the OMC tune goes, "How bizarre."
I caved and watched the Eddie Cahill SVU ep. Of course I did. Eddie. In boxers.
Once again, I got my rage on. Everyone involved in the sting was a moron. Dowd had admitted to the cops earlier that DeSantis used him as a fucktoy in addition to a man ho. Did it never occur to any of these erstwhile braintrusts that it might, therefore, be a bad idea to send him to her place wearing a bulky wire? After all, the odds were good that she was going to saddle up and take him for a ride. Why not use a more discreet recording device, like an earwig? And why in the hell did they wait so long to move after DeSantis had sufficiently implicated herself? Were they hoping to get some free boom chika wow wow out of the deal?
Ah, "Folly". I find a new nugget of rage every time I watch. Actually, ever since they introduced Benson's half-brother into the mix, I can say that about every episode.
The only writing I managed last night was the first line of the Dowdfic I've blathered on about now and then. It was one of those rare lines I didn't want to forget, so I scribbled it into a Word document. I could post it here for posterity, but it seems silly since very few folks will have much interest in the resultant fic, either in my LJ or in the SVU fandom.
I'll think on it a bit, I suppose. What is LJ but a mental scrapbook for all the bits and bobs that have nowhere else to go, most of which would keep me out of the really good schools and prompt a psychiatrist to pop every seam in the crotch of his Dockers at the prospect of luring me to his couch?
What the hell, brain? And the really weird part was that Mac was so totally Mac--workaholic, head-in-a-casefile, sex-can-wait--but he was also the best husband ever. At some point, I got into trouble on a scaffolding that was threatening to collapse(Damn if I know how I got a wheechair on a catwalk thirty feet off the concrete floor; maybe it was a futuristic hoverchair), and Mac, who was cuffing a perp, became Action!Mac, dropped the perp on her face, and saved me. Afterwards, I apologized for boffing Flack, and then I woke up.
As the OMC tune goes, "How bizarre."
I caved and watched the Eddie Cahill SVU ep. Of course I did. Eddie. In boxers.
Once again, I got my rage on. Everyone involved in the sting was a moron. Dowd had admitted to the cops earlier that DeSantis used him as a fucktoy in addition to a man ho. Did it never occur to any of these erstwhile braintrusts that it might, therefore, be a bad idea to send him to her place wearing a bulky wire? After all, the odds were good that she was going to saddle up and take him for a ride. Why not use a more discreet recording device, like an earwig? And why in the hell did they wait so long to move after DeSantis had sufficiently implicated herself? Were they hoping to get some free boom chika wow wow out of the deal?
Ah, "Folly". I find a new nugget of rage every time I watch. Actually, ever since they introduced Benson's half-brother into the mix, I can say that about every episode.
The only writing I managed last night was the first line of the Dowdfic I've blathered on about now and then. It was one of those rare lines I didn't want to forget, so I scribbled it into a Word document. I could post it here for posterity, but it seems silly since very few folks will have much interest in the resultant fic, either in my LJ or in the SVU fandom.
I'll think on it a bit, I suppose. What is LJ but a mental scrapbook for all the bits and bobs that have nowhere else to go, most of which would keep me out of the really good schools and prompt a psychiatrist to pop every seam in the crotch of his Dockers at the prospect of luring me to his couch?
Tags: