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Five Things - Set 61
Jan. 5th, 2009 09:27 pmFive New Year’s Resolutions made on Atlantis - INTERACTIVE!
Five things that happened when the cameras suddenly stopped working at the SGC
I'll post this last one right here, because I'm so gosh-darn pleased with it. :-)
Five emails General O'Neill sends to Colonel Carter in the earth-to-Atlantis databurst
How’s it going? You’re missed here. Vala apparently sends her love (which would kinda scare me if I were you. Which I am not.) I’m sure you’re doing a great job. When in doubt, just ask yourself: What would General O’Neill do? And then, toot sweet, do the opposite. You’ll be fine. I have faith. Also? Chewing gum stuck to the sole of my shiny shoe. Am circulating memo throughout the Pentagon regarding proper disposal of any and all gum and gum-like items.
Springtime in Washington. Cherry blossoms, etc., and so forth. With a dandy cold wind off the Potomac which will freeze your tushie. My tushie, that is. Not yours. Don’t think the breeze will carry that far, for science-y reasons which I can just hear you explaining to me. I kinda miss that.
Mitchell’s fine, don’t worry. That boy is a heckuva punching bag, though. I think he’s taken over Daniel’s role on SG-1 when it comes to the bad luck/trouble magnet/damsel-in-distress bit. P.S. Clearly I know that you know that my life depends on your never repeating any of the previous to a certain anthro/archaeo/pissy Doctor who shall remain nameless. P.P.S. and don’t go telling Mitchell I said that, either. They’re entirely capable of ganging up on me. And Teal’c would just laugh. Well, not ‘laugh’ per se, obviously. You catch the gist of my drift.
Thank you profusely and profoundly for the memento of my being born, lo these many, many, many years ago. You’re obviously being paid too much. What are the shipping costs from Amazon.peg? Seriously, though, it’s lovely and thoughtful, and I almost have it trained to fetch my post-prandial snifter. Goals are important. Sanity, and sensibility, overrated. As Jane Austen might have said. Or not.
Yuletide-type greetings and pine-scented wishes! Will be hanging my stocking at the cabin, alongside those of Dr. Jackson and Ms. Mal Doran. Mr. Col. Mitchell is waffling, but we will break him down. Snowshoes and hot toddies… not at the same time, to be sure. Your charming self and the contents of your charming wallet will be sorely missed at any poker games that spring up by mere happenchance. (Oh, yes, Teal’c still resists the pull of the cabin. Even with the December dearth of mosquitoes. I suppose there is some attraction in the proposition of bouncing his granddaughter on his knee, so I will overlook the slight to my hospitality. You’re excused, as well. Maybe next Yule?)
Five things that happened when the cameras suddenly stopped working at the SGC
I'll post this last one right here, because I'm so gosh-darn pleased with it. :-)
Five emails General O'Neill sends to Colonel Carter in the earth-to-Atlantis databurst
How’s it going? You’re missed here. Vala apparently sends her love (which would kinda scare me if I were you. Which I am not.) I’m sure you’re doing a great job. When in doubt, just ask yourself: What would General O’Neill do? And then, toot sweet, do the opposite. You’ll be fine. I have faith. Also? Chewing gum stuck to the sole of my shiny shoe. Am circulating memo throughout the Pentagon regarding proper disposal of any and all gum and gum-like items.
Springtime in Washington. Cherry blossoms, etc., and so forth. With a dandy cold wind off the Potomac which will freeze your tushie. My tushie, that is. Not yours. Don’t think the breeze will carry that far, for science-y reasons which I can just hear you explaining to me. I kinda miss that.
Mitchell’s fine, don’t worry. That boy is a heckuva punching bag, though. I think he’s taken over Daniel’s role on SG-1 when it comes to the bad luck/trouble magnet/damsel-in-distress bit. P.S. Clearly I know that you know that my life depends on your never repeating any of the previous to a certain anthro/archaeo/pissy Doctor who shall remain nameless. P.P.S. and don’t go telling Mitchell I said that, either. They’re entirely capable of ganging up on me. And Teal’c would just laugh. Well, not ‘laugh’ per se, obviously. You catch the gist of my drift.
Thank you profusely and profoundly for the memento of my being born, lo these many, many, many years ago. You’re obviously being paid too much. What are the shipping costs from Amazon.peg? Seriously, though, it’s lovely and thoughtful, and I almost have it trained to fetch my post-prandial snifter. Goals are important. Sanity, and sensibility, overrated. As Jane Austen might have said. Or not.
Yuletide-type greetings and pine-scented wishes! Will be hanging my stocking at the cabin, alongside those of Dr. Jackson and Ms. Mal Doran. Mr. Col. Mitchell is waffling, but we will break him down. Snowshoes and hot toddies… not at the same time, to be sure. Your charming self and the contents of your charming wallet will be sorely missed at any poker games that spring up by mere happenchance. (Oh, yes, Teal’c still resists the pull of the cabin. Even with the December dearth of mosquitoes. I suppose there is some attraction in the proposition of bouncing his granddaughter on his knee, so I will overlook the slight to my hospitality. You’re excused, as well. Maybe next Yule?)
