Mal ,'Trash'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Aimee, I figure we're just one generation away from breeding the most beautiful person in the world. Your baby + my baby = INSANELY BEAUTIFUL BABY. We just have to introduce them and wait for 25-30 years, give or take.
And then we take over the world!!!
MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Deleted. Sorry.
Taking over the world with pretty pretty babies.
Jilli.... I've googled old friends before, but the one that knocked me over with a feather was seing and old friend's name in the writing/producing credits of Lost.
I still don't have the courage to try and find a way to email him. I fear he'd think I was looking for an in to the TV writing biz.
I probably would be.
{{{{{Nora}}}}}
A potential/lost love of my life may or may not be living in Kansas with a wife and active in the Friends (Quakers). I don't Google might-have-beens anymore.
What are you planning to do--throw him to the werewolf, so that you can escape."
Heh. My friend Carlos from the Yukon (really) had a similar strategy in regard to bears.
I just googled another old friend and found an article about WotC during the Good Ol' Days:
Most wall and work spaces are crowded with sight gags and toys, Lego sets, troll dolls, gargoyles, toy wizards, puzzles, or jars of candy. Young retro-punks with dyed black hair and pierced faces walk through the aisles, talking excitedly to one another other while the chains on their belt hooks jingle. A white-faced young woman in a cow-punk costume--complete with petticoats and horizontally striped black-and-white stockings--teeters around on high, pointy shoes carrying a stuffed teddy bear and wailing, "I need a Happy Meal. Won't someone go get me a Happy Meal?"
carrying a stuffed teddy bear
Pssst.... Mr. Writer-person, sir? Clovis is a devilbunny. You can tell by the floppy ears and the fangs. Be very careful about using the B-E-A-R word around him. It just gets his dander up.
My high school crush is now the head of my home county's Republican party. I thank heaven for my escape.
Jilli was Cowpunk?
Jilli was Cowpunk?
No, but I think the writer had no concept of what else to call someone dressed in knee-length petticoats, stripey tights, and pointy boots. Pointy boots with 12 buckles each, I might add.