Xander ,'End of Days'
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.
DavidS, in Natter:
You don't know the joy of burning the village of your neighbors, putting them to the sword and wading through the blood of their small pet animals!!! I laugh at your hippielove ways, unless of course you were to offer me tea with home-made scones and devon cream and lemon curd. At which point I will put aside my gorey blade and have a cuppa.
Never mind the context, here comes Erin in Bitches:
I can't believe I just admitted to trying to scent-mark my couch.
ita, in Angel or Previously or whereeva, on that lady that used to play Kate:
Her role is pretty bland, but her acting takes wooden and ossifies it.
In Natter, who needs context:
Madrigal: There's no, "Your spirals look like you've got a flaming tampon up your yoni" unless you know a definite way to improve it.
billytea: I'm going to go with, "Take the tampon out".
shrift in Natter, context free:
Pop culture war in my head! "SPOOOOON!" "There is no spoon." "Spoon?" "A spoon's dull, you idiot, it'll hurt more."
Tom Scola:
Huh.
Interesting conversation you're having.
It's like I'm in a hospital room covered with third-degree burns, and you all are having a "fire: good or bad?" argument.
I have to leave for therapy now.
In Natter:
ita: As far as I can tell, high school made kids feel bad.
joe boucher: I think that's why we're all here. Not necessarily that every one of us feels that way, but because Joss Whedon did.
In Natter:
Betsy: Brains were stigmatized in my hometown.
Phill: I just pictured the chess club running around with bleeding palms.
Thessaly and Phill, being unintelligibly Bostonian:
Thessaly: Of course, if the Yankees win, it will wicked suck, and we'll have to make a packy run to console ourselves
Phill: It would, I imagine, even be wicked retahhded. Oh the packy. Sometimes I miss my New England college days. There was a conglomerate: Pequod Pizza/Pequod Packy that delivered food and booze. And to round it out, the delivery guy, Pequod Pat, sold Pequod Pot. It was an entire weekend in one phone call.
"Yeah, let me get two large pepperoni pies, a case of Narragansett, a bottle of Jaegermeister, three packs of camel lights. Oh, is Pat delivering tonight? He is? You better throw in an Italian sub too. Thanks."
Actually, Phill is doing New London, but it's all the pretty close.