So lately I've discovered that I pretty much get a daylong earworm from whatever I last heard on the radio. Today's is "Tired of Being Sorry" which is set to the flamenco-techno music. For some reason I've finding this very amusing.

bon bon, some Angus goodness:

Ah, gaydar. Well, I seem to have the ability to pick out the one straight guy in a room (so that I may fall madly in love with him), so I suppose by extension that means I have gaydar.

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A biscotti maker? Isn't that called an oven?

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That counting your blessings crap is for losers!

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Unamerican here who embraces the serial comma.
Correction: drunk Unermciarna who ermbraees the serioal com mma.

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This board fails to correct or delete posts that are just plain stupid. I can't help feeling that's a flaw.

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Angus G: How lovely to be drunk and to be able to simply declare things without fear of being misunderstood!
Fiona: Good party then, Angus...?!
Angus G: Yes thanks Fiona. Come over to Natter where there's more free-associationy goodness from the ever entertaining ME!!!

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Everything you are all saying about Smallville is absolutely true. Yet I love it. It's so refreshing to watch a show and not have to worry about whether it can maintain its current astonishingly high quality.

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Has the décor of your amorous liaisons been suffering the dolorous lack of that which, were it to spring unbidden to life, as of old, would furnish it with the stiff rod of durance?

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Yeah, as far as I'm concerned it's not a historical reality show until people start exhibiting symptoms of diseases common to the period in question.

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I was in a CD shop today and I saw this young lad, in full white-boy gangsta getup, listening to Eminem on the listening post and really getting into it, doing all those pointy-hand hip-hop moves. It was adorable! I wanted to take him home and put him in a boy band.

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Remember the ads where someone would take one bite of a Crunchie and suddenly a film of them doing something fun like rollerskating or disco dancing or windsurfing would be superimposed over the space where their t-shirt was? (The implication being that eating a Crunchie transports you mentally to your early 80s leisure activity of choice.)

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I miss Ellen [Edit: on top of the people y'all have mentioned, of course].

Thanks, bon bon. I could pretend that it's because I don't remember seeing him with it, which, actually, I don't, but the truth is that I didn't know that a soul patch was an actual thing. Lame.

Has the décor of your amorous liaisons been suffering the dolorous lack of that which, were it to spring unbidden to life, as of old, would furnish it with the stiff rod of durance?

OMG, this was "What would porny spam written by Henry James look like?"

Good times, good times.

Well leg warmers are, like, totally coming back into style.

It's horrifying, really.

Thanks Nilly!

This board fails to correct or delete posts that are just plain stupid. I can't help feeling that's a flaw.

Love it!

bon bon -- 24 - I'm sure that both of them have lovely singing voices.

kat - I think, that both Sloan and Jack are looking for the 3rd Direvko sister. Is this evil? I don't know.

in this life, you're on your own.

random lyric day. y'all drove me to launch.

y'all drove me to launch.

Me too! It's funny.

So, because I miss Ellen, as I've already mentioned:

I like church, and would go if it weren't in the morning.

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Ellen:I keep imagining Betsy in that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the penitents chant "Deus etc. etc." and then thwap themselves on the forehead with their boards, except the board is a Thinkpad with google news up on it.
Betsy HP: My God! She's got a Webcam!
Ellen: Nope. Only audio.

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Spreading the Yay, One Ho at a Time.

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I walk outside now, and I'm all "Oh brave new world, that has such not-falling-on-my-ass in it."

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The "-ma" thing has gotten to the point that when I was reading something with 'enigma' in it, my first thought was "What's an enig?"

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It wasn't until I went to the Redneck Riviera that I realized that the ocean was something people went into willing for enjoyment instead of for purposes of Presbyterian self-mortification.

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I wonder how long blood fueds would last in societies with a good cable package.

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For some reason, I find this disturbing. I think I'd want marshmellows to retain their air of mystery. I prefer to think of them created through parthenogenesis or found under a cabbage leaf by the StayPuft Man.

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Furthermore, I now have two shiny new lip balms marked "Virgin" and "Slut". My favorite part is the small print which says "Laboratory Test on Sluts/Virgins". I feel like I should get a table next to the PETA woman to protest Testing on Sluts.

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Also, 'Rock, paper, scissors'? Why does paper beat rock? I could beat the shit out of a piece of paper with a rock. Unless it was a very very small rock.

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Weekly Wine and Cheese Party tonight at work. Maybe cute co-worker will cut me off a slab of brie again. sigh If only I remember the Secret Language of Cheese. I remember Gouda = Fidelity. And Smoked Gouda = Smoked Fidelity.

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You know, feed a woman lentil soup, and she'll eat for a day. Teach her to make lentil soup, and she'll have soup forever (as long as you give her a weekly supply of lentils, carrots, etc. and send her a copy of the recipe and then resend it because she's lost it and lend her a pot - probably easier to just give her the soup).

And, of course:

My boss had to call me to get my computer password to retrieve something from my hard drive, which would be fine except my password is 'spikelust'. Had to spell it out, then panicked and explained it was my German grandmother's maiden name (pronounced 'Spickle-oost').