Victor in NAFDA Buffy:

I had a theory...his name's Angelus...Angelus O'Riley...no something isn't right there...

brenda m

I've got a theory...it must be L*am...and now we're stuck with all those wacky hairpiece nightmares.

He should just post in here, the inimitable billytea in Natter:

My school did have some odd teachers.

There was another science teacher who had trained as a racing car driver. HS owned some property on the coast that it used for retreats, campouts, excursions and such like. Anyway, to get there you traversed a winding mountain road. So this teacher used to drive a bus-full of students down there on occasion. If he was feeling bored, halfway down he'd start stamping on the clutch and screaming "No brakes! No brakes!!!"

This is the same guy that demonstrated the difference between potential and kinetic energy by smashing test tubes on the floor. He once relief taught my science class (I never had him as a regular). We spent the entire class just reading the coursework set by the regular teacher, while he amused himself by setting fire to the desk.

Of course, there was a class in Religious Studies, where another teacher gave this impassioned little speech which ended with the rousing plea, "Just say no to peer pressure!" So it started with one or two people up the back, then gradually spread through the entire class, until everyone was thumping their desktops in unison and chanting "No! No! No!"

Heh. You'd think I'd have more highlights to show for six years of my life, wouldn't you?

Elena in Bitches:

You know the old saying, crash my computer once, shame on you. Crash my computer twice and that's just like fucking AOL.

Not for comedy value, really, but just 'cause La Lizard - ya gotta love her.

School desks. I'm very good at sleeping at my desk-- you fold your arms and put your head down, and feel the condensation of your breath against the plastic surface of the desk, and your cheek shifts against the scratchy fabric of your school uniform sweater, and suddenly you are the only person in the world.

It's usually a calm, warm, contemplative space. But it's also good for crying and not letting anybody know about it.

PMM's German title for "Ted":

I think Ted should have been Mörderrobotermannjacktripper

Cindy:

(Still - I think some guy named Bill has a picture of Joss and 3 goats in a compromising position and makes them shout out to him, every so often.)

Pinwiz, in Natter:

I went to being called Matthew because I found a lot of conversations/filrting over thumpa*thumpa music went like this:

"What's your name?"

"Matt."

"Pat?"

"Matthew!"

"Oh. Let us kiss with tongue!"

Angus in Natter

"How do I find out if my friend is a gay porn star?"...It's a very 21st century quandary, isn't it.

Fayjay over in Clex:

Now I'm pining like a pining thing made out of pine and covered in pineapples.

Burrell: I still sing the Mna Mna song.

DavidS: Which, I'm sure you know, was written originally for a Swedish porn movie.

Burrell: I didn't know, but I approve. Although I do not approve of humming that song during sex. Wrong rhythm.

billytea: Damn. Apparently I've been doing it wrong.