Shrift:
I'm happily stuck in the glam rock era of glitter, when glam was glam and men were space aliens and going down on your guitarist on stage really meant something!
Xander ,'Lessons'
This thread is for Buffista quotage. Posts that are profound, witty, or otherwise deserving of immortality go here. This is also Shrift's source for the BRQG, so be aware that if your words end up here, they'll also end up there. Finally, please note which thread spawned the quotage and please white-out anything that might be spoilery to Un-Americans.
Shrift:
I'm happily stuck in the glam rock era of glitter, when glam was glam and men were space aliens and going down on your guitarist on stage really meant something!
erikaj:
Phoenix is relatively easy to get out of (if you are not me, that is). Maybe that is some reflection of how much people want to leave a one- Buffista town.
[very slightly edited for typo]
Shrift, skilfully context-pruned to avoid libel:
thus there was no lizardy fun of the cherry-popping kind, and if anyone tells me there was, I shall run away from you shrieking only to return momentarily with my eardrums pierced and prepared to kill you with a very large gun.
BHP, in Literary:
Nabokov is as precious as a thing that is twee. Nabokov is as manly as a Fabergé dildo encrusted with moonstones.
So much funnier out of context...
Scrappy in Natter:
In that case I choose Ashcroft and do my best to fuck him to death...for the good of my country.
M. Costello:
I think I'm going to screw the dress code this year and finally wear the purple velvet pants. I mean, yeah, they'll consider it an abomination, but this year I'm still the one who doesn't have any arrests nor has been named in any restraining orders.
Steph L. in Bitches:
I will never be out of debt, and it is all because I am a cheap up-against-the-shelves textwhore.
Betsy Hanes Perry in Natter:
It is not that I object to other people's having babies at 47. It is that, having had babies at 30 and 33, and being 43 myself, the thought of another pregnancy in four years fills me with a horror I can extinguish only by contemplating the greater horrors of sex with superannuated right-wing Republicans.
It's sort of the diamond-cuts-diamond theory of nightmares.
Emily:
Holy shit, my brain just went out in a shower of sparks. I'm fumbling around in the dark trying to find the fuse box. Shit! I just tripped over a basal ganglion.