'Shindig'
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.
I'm catching up on the discussions we had at WX. and this is Nutty talking about small versus large communities:
you can live a really long life in a smallish, isolated part of the world, and die by degrees as your organs fail one by one, or you can live in a busy city, meeting lots of new people, and catching all of their germs, and you die young and possibly with blood coming out of every orifice
scrappy, in Bitches:
I am woman, hear me roar-- "Ow. where's the damn Ibuprofen?"
Natter:
John:
Do we know much about Lori's thing that's going to Mars?
Aimee:
Only that she *refuses* to write "FOAMY" on it.
t pouty
(I'm not trying to COMM myself; I'm just the setup here...)
In Natter:
Steph L.: We also get random holidays that nobody else does, like -- I swear to you this is true -- the National Day of Prayer.
meara: National Day of Prayer??? Dude. I think on the one hand, I'd be kinda irritated to get that off, but...free day off! Heck, I dont' get MLK, I want day of prayer!!
bitterchick: I don't get President's Day, man. I want a day of prayer. I can pray for more vacation time.
Steph, the logical followup to that would have to be something like "Yeah, and then we could pray for a real live president..."
::snerkity::
Calli:
I like dogs. I like movies with dogs. I've just got training issues that interfere with my enjoyment of some of those movies. It's a squick. Meanwhile I'm watching things like Evil Dead without ever saying, "Damn, they ought to have better regulation of their post-mortem facilities." So I should probably just get over the dog issue.
Noumenon (not, please note, Nou-demon) when asked what to do about a broken tooth:
First step: Give "tooth paste" a chance to earn its name.
Second step: Duct tape!
Third step: Panic.
Wait, that was actually my strategy for eight minute dating. I don't know what to do about the tooth.
billytea: Now, I'm planning to be buried with a cell phone. Granted, yours is another way, perfectly valid I'm sure, of beating those 'buried alive' phobias.
Steph: My coverage area is so bad that I'd dial out, and everyone I dialed would be like "What? Get what? Sorry, you're breaking up -- call me back when you're out of the tunnel!"
John H., in Natter:
This all came up as part of my re-reading a thousand posts of Bureacracy and the WX stuff that led into it.
I haven't exactly come to any dramatic conclusions, but on the other hand I'm all ready to write a literary analysis called something like:
Head-Explodeyness: Images of cranial trauma in posts 5011 to 6918 of the Bureacracy thread
In which I would contrast the posts that merely said "this is making me dizzy" with the posts which said "this is giving me a headache", up to and including the posts that said "I want to claw my own eyes out now". With footnotes.