beau–brummell:

beau–brummell:

Me saying “Can I stay in the car” to get out of being seen and viewed and talked to at a social function, except I’m a courtesan and mistress to the great and good and my Lord takes me to a soiree and I ask him if I can remain in the carriage for the evening

He says “Damn and blast you, woman! I’ll not let you sit out here in the cold, with brigands and kidnappers about”

I say “Give me five shillings for a sedan chair and I’ll go back homewards”

He says “If you don’t get your little powdered legs out of this carriage and into that parlour by the time I count to 10, I shall give you such a talking to, the likes of which to rival any parliamentary spar AND I will confiscate your dogs”

I am forcibly placed into the soiree.

lochnessmonsterofficial:

Trying to communicate with my future morning self is like setting an elaborate trap for an unsuspecting zombie like

if I put my phone alarm on full volume and vibrate and move the charger so I can put it on this out-of-reach metal surface, I can startle her awake. Probably. Then if I securely duct tape this caffeinated chocolate bar to it, it will provide a challenging situation and make her mushy little brain work extra hard to figure out how to turn the alarm off. Then she might go for the chocolate while she’s turning off the loud noises. With luck, she’ll consume the whole thing. 20 minutes of bliss then boom, physiology kicks in and the caffeine reaches her brain. Gentlemen, this just might work.