Fayjay on published porn:

The stuff that gets published... Good grief. I mean, I realise (logically) that people with poor vocabularies and poorer powers of discrimination deserve books that can be read one-handedly just as much as the more pretentious & literary readers, but there's just no need for porn to suck so badly. To feature sucking, by all means, but not to suck.

Sigh.

Well written porn for the people, damn it all!

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Where was that?

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Literary. There'sa bit of talk about porn about librarians, and Fay made the mistake (as did I) of reading some of this porn.

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Nutty, in Buffy:

For the record, I'm just frighteningly clairvoyant and would never sully my pristine brain cells by reading spoilers.

I'm looking at your bank statement right now. And it's fucking great !

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The magnificent Betsy, in Firefly:

We were having Indian out once with our infant son, and the proprietor told us that our son was so beautiful we should put an earring in his ear, or at least tie a red thread round his wrist, to distract the envious spirits. Maybe Firefly needs a red thread?

[It turned out the son *was* the evil spirit, so no big.]

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Also from Firefly, upon the appearance of Unca Tim:

Kristen: Did I just see a Minear shaped person?

ita: Hmm. "going Minear-shaped". It's a concept.

Kristen: Sounds porny. And possibly dangerous.

Nutty: ...so that would be about yea tall, hunched over a computer screen, with a gigantic death-scythe propped in the corner? Yeah, probably him. Unless that guy from Billa nd Ted's Bogus Journey has found his way onto the internet again.

amych:

"possibly dangerous."

Mostly for other people.

Kristen:

"Mostly for other people."

I felt that was implied.

Dani:

"going Minear-shaped"

I like it. Just like when things go pear-shaped, only involving blood and decapitations.

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Nutty, in Natter: The earth needn't move to signify sexual pleasure.I'm happy with some fireworks and crowds cheering outside my window.

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Nattering about the vernacular in Firefly (meaning & etymology of 'horking', 'hork', 'hawk' etc. Don't ask why.):

amych: I agree that you can hack up a lung -- but you'd never hawk or hork one, at least that I've heard. So it sounds to me like a different thing altogether -- it's a cough and not a throat-clearing.

Nutty: You can hack up a grandma, if you're a serial killer.

• If you're a taxi driver or a sucky writer (or both), you ARE a hack.
  
• If you're a snotty naturalist and/or survivalist and/or Wanna Blessed Be, you've got the word Hawk in your name.
  
• If you're selling something by yellling at passersby about it, you're hawking.
  

Aint English grand?

billytea: If you're selling something by yellling at passersby about it, you're hawking.
Whereas if you do so by typing copy into a voice simulator, you're Stephen Hawking

Nutty: If you ride a crappy horse in England, it's called hacking, right? Anyway, there's such a thing as a hacking jacket, so maybe it means just riding around for riding around's sake, and doesn't include judgement on the quality of horseflesh.

victor infante: "Whereas if you do so by typing copy into a voice simulator, you're Stephen Hawking."

• Or if you're a singing bank robber, you're Hudson Hawk.
  
• Or if you're Xander using a superhero codename to fight vampires, you're Nighthawk.

Nutty:

• When you sell something to a pawn shop, you have put it in hock.
  
• When you are eating a pig's legs, you are eating ham hock

Steph L: So when you have a meal of pig leg bought at a pawn shop, you're eating hocked hock? And the pawnshop owner who sells it is hawking hocked hock?

Betsy Hanes Perry: When you say "I am a licensed companion, and I'll be on your planet soon", you hawk your wares.

Dani: Isn't hock also a kind of fortified wine or sherry? t /vague memories from reading 18th-century historical fiction

Steph L: Like hawking hocked hock.

Sophia Brooks: And when you regurgitate, have you horked hocked hock?

Nutty: Now is the perfect time to go all Latin on you: hic, haec, hoc. Also, with the timely post about wine, hence the detour into hic. Speaking of, where's Hec?

DavidS: "Speaking of, where's Hec?" I knew that was going to happen. Hec horked Hawking's hocked hock. Heck, Hawking hawked Hec's horking.

(edited for sense)

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(hysterical laughter.)

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Matt in Natter:

Buying a drink for the cute Swedish guy you mistakenly assume to be out clubbing with his wife: $5.

Comfy room with faux fireplace at the Newbury Street Guest House: $125.

Having the best sex of your life and then realizing that everyone in several row houses across the street can see through the bay window into aforementioned room: priceless.

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