Giving fucking thanks

[sharpestscalpel]

Yesterday was goddamn Thanksgiving. I always fucking forget about it with the whole fucking stardate thing instead of regular calendars. Goddamn fucking 'Fleet messing up a perfectly adequate method of keeping shitting track of the time of year.

Any goddamn way.

Fucking Thanksgiving.

Replicated turkey is bullshit so I don't fucking eat it. But I had a little something left over from the last away mission that I cooked up over a flame in the lab. BBQ. Nothing fucking like it even if it ain't goddamn fucking traditional.

Mama always did make us count our fucking blessings. So I guess this year I'm goddamn thankful for the following shit-sucking items:

Fucking space, man
The parathyroid glands
These shit-kicking boots what got me out of fucking trouble at that one base
The old family place back in Georgia
The amygdala
Pointy ears
The fucking ship learning a new goddamn song because the other one was getting fucking old
Lube
Hot sauce and scrambled eggs
Romulan porn
The fucking surrealists
Post-goddamn-modernism
Edith Quimby, PhD
Franz Stangl
Crepes
Maker's Mark
Jazz from the old-Earth 1920s

I could fucking go on but this kind of sappy bullshit is making me want to puke.

Comments

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

Oh, and where'd that haircut come from, Mr. Macho? A real man can sparkle without it being a slight on his manhood. I suppose you think cocksucking is gay.

I'm not Golden Boy. Believe me.

And yeah, I've been known to listen to a few.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

You picking on my goddamn hair? Weaksauce, man. You are definitely not fucking Golden Boy because he's actually got the balls for a decent insult.

Cocksucking is a hella good time on a Friday night, asshole. Your gender binary is too fucking oppressive for me, thanks but no motherfucking thanks.

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

You're disgusting. Your entire universe and worldview make me want to puke. I can't believe these people can stand you.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Fuck you too, in your goddamn face, then.

[original-fine.livejournal.com]

Have you even heard of protesting too much? I'm ashamed that you're me. I mean, even more than before.

Damn it, I told Chapel I'd be nice to you. I'm sorry I mistrust you from the bottom of my gut, all right?

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He appears to be running circles around you with Babylights, I'll give him that much. This rate, you'll never find out about her fucking underpants.

[original-fine.livejournal.com]

I have no unprofessional interest in Nurse Chapel, nor she in me. The point is, therefore, moot.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Spoken like a man who has her firmly in his spank-bank and is more interested in his fucking imagination than the goddamn reality.

[original-fine.livejournal.com]

You're not a stupid man. But you've got no idea what you're talking about, here.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Why don't you tell me? Give me some education, Golden Boy.

[headnursechapel.livejournal.com]

Oh...Jim. I should have warned you.

Please, don't pay attention to anything he says. He only acts this way to provoke people.

If he upsets you too much, promise me you'll just walk away, won't you? He's not worth it.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Aw, Babylights, you're a mighty harsh woman.

I do like that.

[headnursechapel.livejournal.com]

I notice you didn't deny that it's true.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Why, I'd never lie to you, Babylights.

That softlighting is mighty appealing, after all.

[headnursechapel.livejournal.com]

I still don't understand what this softlighting is supposed to be, but...thank you. I suppose.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Makes you look all lovely and glowy. Like you just need a good fucking spanking.

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

I can take care of myself, Christine. But I appreciate your concern.

I hope he's not bothering you.

[headnursechapel.livejournal.com]

Just be aware of what you're getting into, Jim.

And...well. Nothing I can't handle, I hope.

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

We'll look out for each other, then. Thank you. I feel better, knowing you're looking out for me.

Private to Dr. McCoy

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

Look, I'm undercover. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot, here, but I don't want to let on I'm not from the land of fucking unicorns and rainbows. That said...

I'm definitely not fucking him, that's for sure. You call that an insult? When I insult you, you'll know.

Why are you making my point for me? I just figured someone so uptight about some classy gold sparkles has other hangups including where he puts his sweet little mouth. Sorry about the miscommunication.

Private to Sparkly-britches

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Under-fucking-cover? Why you hiding your shit-eating identity?

Big talk, Sparkly-britches.

Classy? You better be fucking spelling that with a goddamn K. Klassy like a fucking trailer park at Christmas right before a freak tornado.

You'd fucking beg for my sweet little mouth - and you'd not be the goddamn first. But, yeah, fucking miscommunication, what the shit ever.

Who the fuck are you and I won't be goddamn asking again.

Re: Private to Sparkly-britches

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

Because I'm actually on this fucking Broadway musical of a ship and the last time I met up with Captain Compassion's crew they threw me in the brig for breathing. Not doing that again.

I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the ISS Enterprise. Who the fuck are you?

Re: Private to Sparkly-britches

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Well, now, that's fucking interesting.

Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy, chief medical officer of the fucking ISS Enterprise. And you ain't my goddamn captain, that's for fucking sure.

Re: Private to Sparkly-britches

[gold-ambition.livejournal.com]

No. You're the one that goes with that other Pike, the leather daddy. And you sure don't look like my CMO. Bet you fuck like him, thought.

Re: Private to Sparkly-britches

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

You fuck your CMO? I hope he's up to date on his shots because you look plum infected.

Sounds like my idea of a good time, I gotta say.

Leather, Sparkly-britches, will turn a casual blade and provides at least a little fucking protection for the soft underbelly bits. That sparkly shit'll just shred.