i need a spa day, man

I've gotten a smattering of holiday cards already, and let me just say, there is nothing quite as awesome as trudging downstairs to get the mail, half-awake, and seeing an envelope addressed to Mel Sparklepants. I mean, that's just fun. So, huge thank you to sorachsilver, gaffsie (that is kind of the cutest John and Rodney drawing ever), sky_flakes, fawkesielady_ed, and pennyplainknits (Hogswatch FTW). As a bonus, my father is ragingly jealous. "Why don't I get mail from Germany?" he whines every time he passes them. \o/

In other news, I have a few fictional bones to pick.

• Writing het sex does not automatically grant you the right to use terrifying metaphors like 'scramble her eggs'. If a man ever even mentioned scrambling my eggs in a joking manner, I would knee him in the groin.
  
  
• If, metaphorically, RayK and Fraser are having gay sex and Fraser decides to suck on Ray's nipples, it is not acceptable to describe anything on Ray's body as a tit. Ray Kowalski is so skinny he's freaking concave. There are no tits. Do not do this. I will cry.
  
  
• Rodney McKay does not speak like Bill S. Preston Esquire. Sputtering? A-ok. Post-coital blithering? That's pretty much a given. "Totally radical, dude, can I bum a ride?" No. Please acquire an episode or a brain. Either will do.

Ahhh. I feel much better now. *places cucumber slices over eyes*