Get Your Freak On Friday!

It's Friday again already? I'm surprised we're all still alive after an epic week of RobPr0n--again. Dude, this is ridiculous. This is panty terrorism at its worst. Are you trying to kill people? Srsly. Let's take a peek at some of the Vanity Fair loveliness, shall we?

"Hi, um...I'm ABG and I'm VF's official flosser. I see you're eating
corn. Let me help you get cleaned up. What's that? Yes, I realize
I'm not actually using floss but I've found that my tongue is much
more effective..."

Ahem. Moving on...

"Can I get under that blanket with you? I'm freezing.

Yes, I know being nude doesn't help. Don't question 

me, young man."

And lastly...

"Look at you in pajamas, all adorable and...
English-y! Makes me wanna knit you a 'jumper'
and make you tea for 'elevensies.' Did I mention
my fondness for parka peen? TMI? Sorry, my
good chap. Pip, pip and cheerio!"*

Alrighty, don't know about you, but I'm ready to get my freak on! So here's my GYFOF rec of the week...

Work in Progress

by araeo

Work in Progress is an hilarious fic with lemons that make you forget your first name. Bella is delightfully snarky, lively and lovable. Edward has a few demons from his past but Bella coaxes out the best in him. The supporting characters, however, really steal the show. Emmett is a professional wrestler who eats his body weight in Brazilian barbecue (Bella calls him 'Meat Sweats,' come on, how can you not laugh at that?) Jacob is a pothead who hides his giant bong in Bella's apartment. And last but not least are the two sidekicks who we never actually see: Bella's talking ovaries. I simply adore this story, especially the lemons that make me break into a sweat myself.

The summary:

Bella, Edward and the usual suspects are adults living in Seattle. They hit it off after a klutzy accident and E awakens B's ovaries, who never hesitate to voice their pervy opinion in B's head. Rated M for language and lemons. AU/AH. Bella and Edward.

So there you have it...more Robaliciousness, lemons and sweating. Sounds like my typical Saturday night, at home alone with only some Two Buck Chuck to keep me company.

*Before all my English friends decide they now hate me, they should know that I'm being an idiot. I realize Brits don't actually talk like characters from Mary Poppins. (Only Rob does when I fantasize about him.) I was however, married to an Englishman briefly. Longest five minutes of my life. I kid! So yeah, I dig you people for real. And your parka peens.