billytea in Natter:

Matt, you know those new IKEA ads? Yeah. He’s talking to you. That’s right, just you. Even Swedes think you're crazy. People who ferment herring doubt your sanity.

Shawn, that first part was me(I?)

Me - in the sense of not me at all, but rather you. But not I. Oh no. Not I.

Ellen S., in Natter (and Consuela's tagline):

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

Kirsten, in Firefly (I don't think this is spoilery; admin with yr crazy admin power edit if you disagree)

So I keep hearing talk of a great episode. Sadly, I can't confirm this since there's a baseball game on.

Which, you know, should make this week's column very interesting...

Mal appears to have abandoned the tight-fitting camel-colored pants and brown coat in favor of white pinstripes with an odd matching navy blue cap. The entire cast is no longer carrying guns but, rather, sturdy wooden bats.

The episode's theme seems to be...genitalia manipulation. Which is clearly a metaphor for sexual politics and...oh I give up.

Go Yankees!

Hi. I'm Rebecca Lizard. I read too much Winterson when I was eleven, and now it is burned into my brain. On the up side, that's when I realized I was a lesbian.

The inimitable Ms. Lizard, in The Quotable Firefly

Connie Neil on the wonders of Wesley, alcohol, and fanfiction (SB):

Scotch--the drink of angst. No getting around it. It's hard to be angsty over a bloody Mary--unless it's really blood and her name was Mary.

If it's a noir Western you could probably get away with tequila, but even then your tortured hero is likely to be hunched over a bottle of whiskey. Vodka and schnapps would work well in some old, grey city filled with existential woe. Boilermakers involve whiskey, don't they? If he was lurking around the office, a boilermaker might work.

But when you're dealing out the real, low-down, end-of-your-rope angst, the poetic drink is whiskey.

The only ones who do angst well with wine is some smelly, grey-haired guy in a tattered coat, huddled in some boxes in an alley, and it turns out he used to be a succesful surgeon or brilliant musician, until That Day. And then he's most likely swilling down Thunderbird or Mad Dog 20/20.

(Clearing stuff off old floppies - most of these are from early 2001)

Shrift - "We are Porn. Resistance is a turn-on."

AllysonGrrl - Oh, and I finally ordered cable. I will be unable to communicate with you for awhile, because I will be busy undulating to the rhythm of my own brain oozing out of my left ear.

Elena B - My first few posts are me taunting everyone because I get to see Buffy on Mondays. And then, by my sixth or seventh post I'm waxing pornosophical.

Erin G. - (on writing) I returneth to the writing as a dog to its vomit...and it just doesn't get easier! But it's like crack! Frustrating crack! With a lot of exclamation points!

Betsy Hanes Perry - Oh, I think I can trust Angel to save the world. Just not maintain it.

Matt the Bruins fan - There's good taste in clothing, and then there's knowing what good taste looks like so you can snap it in the face with your salmon-colored feather boa..

BHP - A mighty fortress is our Google.

Amok - Preoccupation, brooding, mild depression followed by wild rage, running about madly, attacking people or animals. After the attack the person feels exhausted, has no memory of the attack and often commits suicide.

This one sounds like my kitten. Except instead of committting suicide, she naps.

Sue, in Natter, reacting to one item on ita's buffet of international craziness.

I think I'll stick with smokes, Scrappy. Last night I did this thing called, "being on book" in which I people would yell, "LINE!" and I would yell the line they forgot.

The play is about Charlotte Bronte.

"May I read a book, father?"

Everything is tragic, and people die of consumption, and no ninjas explode from dark corners to do battle with naked teenage girls.

I'd rather be dead, than go back, tomorrow. But i made a promise, and so I'll go.

I think I'm supposed to continue cutting through books with an exacto knife so that they can be fitted with little lights so the actors can look creepy with reciting some boring Howard's End type shit.

Did i mention that i REALLY love this friend?

Allyson in Natter, on discovering the magic of theatre.