Natter 43: I Love My Dead Gay Whale Crosspost.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Ah, the bastard! He ought to know better. If I hadn't finished my last beer a few hours ago, I'd raise one to your next crush being far more pointy.
On that note, though, I gotta go. The laundry, she is finished, and now that I have a shirt to wear tomorrow, it's time to sleep so I can convincingly stuff it. I hope your night turns less mopey and more snoozey soon.
That was an xpost, natch, but Plei, you funny. Hey, did I tell you that I'm coming out to a conference in Seattle in June?
Cthulhulaboo
I just spent five minutes trying to say that. And laughing halfway through.
Kajathulhu is even more genius. And I'm mad because I'll want to make that joke to people who won't get it. I'd like to believe that most people around here would get Marion, but then I live near DC, so. (...I'm assuming I remember correctly and that you're on the west coast. And I'm assuming that I get the joke, come to think of it. And now I've invested this post with an awful lot of social significance. Yikes.)
Sympathies on the illness. My generic recommendation is getting hot & sour soup from your local Chinese food purveyor. Because it's made of magic & fairy dust and ground-up elves and stuff. Or so I hear.
My generic recommendation is getting hot & sour soup from your local Chinese food purveyor. Because it's made of magic & fairy dust and ground-up elves and stuff. Or so I hear.
Not Keebler elves, I hope. Because they taste like ass.
Hey, did I tell you that I'm coming out to a conference in Seattle in June?
No, but keen! Keep me posted.
I'm assuming I remember correctly and that you're on the west coast. And I'm assuming that I get the joke, come to think of it.
Oh, yeah. You get the joke. His full name is, in fact, Marion Beary.
My generic recommendation is getting hot & sour soup from your local Chinese food purveyor. Because it's made of magic & fairy dust and ground-up elves and stuff. Or so I hear.
This is my usual way of dealing with colds, because the ground-up elves really do the trick, but this one came with a side order of unable to deal with anything more tasty than Cream of Wheat for the first couple of days.
No, real elves taste more ephemeral.
this one came with a side order of unable to deal with anything more tasty than Cream of Wheat
This makes me think of the Bill Cosby routine about a lump cream of wheat. Which leads me to the Cosby routine about the chicken heart that ate New York City. Which leads me to thinking that his mention of Jell-O in that bit was remarkably prescient given his later endorsement. Which, while interesting, is irrelevant to... well, everything.
God almighty, I'd better go to bed. Tomorrow I'll be properly depressed, because I'll be running on 6 hours of sleep. Oh well.
"Scripture also says 'Render unto Caesar what Caesar demands.' And right now, Caesar demands a building permit," County Commission Chairman Mike Whitehead said.
That is beautiful.
Timelies. Why do I have to work for a living? Just doesn't seem fair.
Looking at this list of 'weird' mental disorders, I'm struck by how weird some of them are, and how weird some of them are not.
Why do I have to work for a living? Just doesn't seem fair.
I patently agree. Is this nature or nurture? I mean, did we evolve into shiftless human beings (okay, talking for me), or did my parents do me wrong?
Of course, it couldn't just be my fault. How unlikely is that?
I've been watching Hustle for 2 or 3 months, I'm assuming that it was already run in England.
S1/2 aired on the BBC back in 04/05, and S3 is airing now.
(Utterly random and petty aside, it irks me when networks call a bought-in program "A [network] original series." AMC did not produce Hustle, and SciFi did not produce Doctor Who, damnit.)
Okay, I have a fear of that website reading my IP address, and telling me which passion.com members are near my town, and showing me lots of cleavage pictures.