Facepalm

[Cue: William Tell Overture] [sound of Frank Zappa's “San Ber'dino” being played on Japanese instruments] [Kevin (the Muse): “Wargh! It SAID _William Tell!”] [Cantata11 (walking up with a koto): “Oof. Sorry. It's just that the girls had gotten warmed up to the other thingy...”] [Kevin: “William _Tell_, 11.” (facepalm)]

“Do you think Carl Sagan might be available?” There was a mass-facepalm. “No.” they chorused.

A look of realization crossed her face; she looked like she may have given herself a face palm if her hands weren't full.

According to a study by me, this generates a multibillion facepalm for the UK economy, making everyone who considers it at least eleventy hundred pounds unhappier.

Christie blinked, then *looked* at Steven. “Do you have any idea what might be different?” “Um... No? Christie facepalmed. “Well, her hair was red this morning, right? It's blonde now. You figure it out.”

“Yay! I know you! You're Nicholas Lee, the detective who got fired 'cos of us!” Nina exclaimed happily. Lee facepalmed. “Arrgh...” “Nina...” Tris muttered. “Let's quit while we're ahead, okay?”