'Ello! I'm Lindsey; also sometimes referred to as Balthazar :)
I'm sort of desperately in love with The Beatles, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, The Monkees, Supernatural, and The Smiths.
My interests also include Paul McCartney's sweatervest (and frankly, the rest of him), George Harrison's cheekbones, Ringo's thighs of steel, John Lennon's ingenious wit, Roger Waters' long glorious locks, Peter Tork's golden bowlcut, Davy Jones' british wit, Jensen Ackles' texan accent, Misha Collins' tweets, Pete Townshend in flannel, Keith Moon's drumming faces, Roger Daltrey's angel-voice, John Entwistle's lightning fingers, Jimmy Page's glorious unicorn mane of white hair and the fact that vinyl still exists in this world.
My ships include: Destiel (OTP), Falthazar, Deathstiel, and Mclennon, for funzies.
My idols/icons include: Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Pete Townshend, Peter Tork, Suze Rotolo, and Mia Sara.

britishentertainmentobsession:
LOOK AT WHAT JUST HAPPENED.
I was going home form school and needed gas. So I stop at a Shell at the corner of Pico and Lincoln. This girl in a shiny BMW steals the spot I was going to use, so I pull into another one.
And who strolls right past my bumper?
Benedict.
Mother fucking.
CUMBERBATCH.
I immediately started shaking. I’m really surprised I remembered to put the car in park…
But I went inside the gas station, tapped him on the arm and said “Excuse me, but you look a lot like Benedict Cumberbatch.”
And he said “I am Benedict Cumberbatch.”
That’s where my heart stopped functioning and my legs turned to jello. Because I didn’t believe that it could actually be him, because the universe doesn’t like me enough.
I asked if I could get a photo with him, and he said he would, but he was really late (I expect for Star Trek filming!) and asked if he could deal with getting his gas first (apparently the pump was being weird, while he was sorting it out this old lady was babbling at me about how the pump wouldn’t stop and got gas on her…).
When he finished he asked if I just wanted it of him or if I wanted it with both of us, and I said both OBVIOUSLY, took the picture, thanked him and went outside to pump my gas.
I didn’ want to be really fangirly and obnoxious, because that’s what I hate in fangirls, but I spent the rest of my drive home BLASTING metal and just screaming. I admit that I ran a red light and had to snap myself back into focus a couple times.
Oh! He was driving a silver jag-yoo-ar convertible with an out of state plate, and had the top down!!! He was so adorable, he couldn’t figure out how to work the pump, I almost offered to help him out AND I BLOODY SHOULD HAVE. I’m like thinking back on it and I wish I had tried to interact more with him, but I was afraid that if I tried my legs would just collapse…
But he was lovely and adorable and wearing sweatpants and I think his hair dye is washing out cuz it looked a little gingery!!!
I honestly think I’m in shock. I need a blanket.
YOU LUCKY BASTARD. LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY BASTARD.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT IS SO AWESOME.
OH SHIT YOU LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY BASTARD. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT. YOU JUST LIKE LIVED MY DREAM. OH MY GOSH, LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG
Am I a terrible person? Because this story made me nauseous with envy. Honestly I think you’re terribly lucky and I’m happy for you, that’s brilliant, but I’m kind of crying. (BRB, shaking, seriously fucking depressed, etc. Yeah, OK, I’m a bad person. Kill me. GDI.)
I DON’T EVEN WATCH SHERLOCK AND I’M FANGIRLING LIKE A TWELVE YEAR OLD
(Source: consulting-meerkat)
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