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bronze_ribbons...from quoting this line from USA Today when it's time to wrassle with my next tennis plotbunny:
(I'll at least refrain from working in dubious and/or vicious jokes about Juliette the cow. Maybe. The problem is that now that the idea's occurred to me, the anti-guardian angel is already cooing potential punchlines into my ear. Have I mentioned lately that I hate my brain?)
ETA: Cows lick home, owner calls police. Ribbons contemplates writing a scene in which a herd of house-munching cows interrupt hot top-and-cream action between two prominent tennis players. ...Ribbons suspects recipient of fic would justifiably come after her with an electric prod for answering a perfectly serious prompt with udderly mooronic comedy. *dodges boots and soggy mittens, gets back to work*
Rarely has the men's game had such thick cream at the top.
(I'll at least refrain from working in dubious and/or vicious jokes about Juliette the cow. Maybe. The problem is that now that the idea's occurred to me, the anti-guardian angel is already cooing potential punchlines into my ear. Have I mentioned lately that I hate my brain?)
ETA: Cows lick home, owner calls police. Ribbons contemplates writing a scene in which a herd of house-munching cows interrupt hot top-and-cream action between two prominent tennis players. ...Ribbons suspects recipient of fic would justifiably come after her with an electric prod for answering a perfectly serious prompt with udderly mooronic comedy. *dodges boots and soggy mittens, gets back to work*
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