Nutty, in Buffy (but non-spoilery): I wouldn't be sorry for having saved the world, even if I had to mow down a conga line of grandmas.

Daniel in Buffy1 (having nothing to do with the premiere):

Some people call him a Space Pirate
Some call him the vampire of love
Some people call him William (wolf whistle)
Cause he speaks of the effulgence of love...

Noumenon, in reaction to our possibly exceeding our bandwidth:

We're going to have to start a promotional drive for skipping and skimming. Miracleman and billytea will be encouraged to post directly to COMM so people won't look through Natter for their posts. I can give up reading The Quotable Buffy for Lent.

In Buffy, but not spoilery:

Madrigal: It's very hard to claim a gas leak when twenty students are calling 911 to report flaming trolls.

Miracleman: Okay, I just imagined a horde of trolls dressed in bright colors snapping their fingers and goingn "Fffaaaaaaabbbulous!"

Theodosia: Olaf was in fact one of the very few butch trolls.

All my dresses are things like black lycra with speedracer stripes, animal print miniskirts, brown suede... well, it would suffice to say that I own no dresses that are appropriate for running along the beach with my mother in a feminine hygiene product commercial.

Shrift in Natter.

And again, Shrift:

My coworker just said, "Oh, fudge."

I really want to ask him if he realizes we're not on network TV.

Weird dream. It was proclaimed that couches were weapons of mass destruction, and that we would go after them with special "couchkiller" helicopter. (Apparently they dangled really long sticks from the copters to smash the couches to bits.)

I asked if we were going after the sofa in Hell, but was told it was against strategic doctrine for the U.S. to attack anyone who could fight back.

-- Typo Boy

Miss Goth, Jilli Herself, has the kind of dream I only wish I were cool enough to have:

My recurring stress dream involves critters from the Aliens movies attacking the office (at WotC) that I used to work in. My former boss opens up a storage closet, hands me a pulse rifle, and tells me to escort people to the basement.

Me. With a pulse rifle. While dressed in my usual manner - hoop skirt, frock coat, top hat. And Clovis sitting on the pulse rifle, saying "short controlled bursts!"

Lots of flickery lights, lots of running through mazes of cubicles, lots of snarly things jumping at me and me getting to shoot them.

As stress dreams go, it isn't that bad.

And Hec's response:

Pretty fucking cool, actually. See if you can get your talented husband to draw a picture of this with top hat and pulse rifle and Clovis. Clovis is in your dreams? God, but I worship your Jilliness.

As do we all.

And one more cool dream, from Typo Boy:

My dreams are kinda demented, but not nearly that cool:

I'm in a movie theater with Albert Einstein in the seat next to me. He suddenly collapses and begins labored breathing. I have to rush him to the nearest dentist where they give him emergency treatments for his tuberculosis.

That taken care of , I end up taking part in a reality show; I am competing against Miss America, a Nascar Champion, Dr. Dre, and Ann Coulter to design a new constitution for Puerto Rico - which has just won independence, and has sold all legislative rights to Fox TV.

There was a middle part that I don't remember the details of. It involved Woody Allen.

I liked the saving Mr. Einstein, and PR selling rights to Fox. Very cool, Typo Boy!!

Madrigal in Fic:

So far I've only got two other pseuds, and I'm thinking of more, because I've just gotten this delightful email suggesting that instead of my normal crappy style, I imitate this other writer, who just also happens to be me. I could start the most pointless flame war ever, even scarier than the fight about Xena's methods of sanitation.

Michele T.:

I love the idea of scolding someone for being French. "You have a language that I get very self-conscious when I try to pronounce!" (And thank you for that, amych.) "You eat snails! You have silly politics!"