Erin, in Natter:

The SCLU: Fighting for the Freedom of Scotch whisky everywhere.

Their motto? "If you don't drrrink whisky, then SCLU you!"

ita: My mother warned me not to date West Indians.

I've been good.

Perkins: My mother warned me not to date Caltech students.

I wasn't so good.

Erin: My mom never warned me off anyone.

I've been bad.

Anne W in Biches:

That should tell you something about W. family dynamics. That, and the fact that my great-great grandmother once wrote in her diary "All of my best children are dead."

Shrift, in FF: RW+E, extends a cake=fic metaphor:

I just want to make it clear that, since there are Buffistas here whom I know and respect writing RPF, I sometimes lament that they're writing stuff That Is Not My Beautiful Cake, I would never want to come off as an abusive psycho to any of them.

Your Cake Is Not My Cake. You Are Welcome to Think My Cake Has Crack in It.

Our Cakes May Coexist Peacefully, Provided That Neither of Us Forces the Other to Eat It, Too.

Anne W. in Bitches:

That should tell you something about W. family dynamics. That, and the fact that my great-great grandmother once wrote in her diary "All of my best children are dead."

Some non-spoilery speculation from Angel:

ita: Where is Groo?

deborah grabien: He's probably a waiter at Spago, or Schatzi on Main, or Mezza Luna.

"Hi! I'm the Groozelack (sp?), and I'll be your server tonight. Our special is Chilean sea bass in lime and cilantro butter!"

Jess PMoon: "A green salad is not the proper appetizer for a Champion. May I suggest the tomato-basil soup?"

Nilly: I've just seen "Files and Records" (it's my job) for the very first time! And my eyes definitely do not do that thing with the sound when I manage to find the things I'm looking for! Also, whenever I try to do those wheeling-on-the-chair movements, my skirt gets caught up in it.

msbelle, in Natter

Just as well that I will not be at said party as it would be my inclination to walk up to Mr. Norton and lick his face. Which as a fundraising technique is questionable at best, but may have surprising results.

Nicole in Natter:

Ewwwwwww!

Some guy that I've never seen before just walked into the cubicle next to mine, bent over, sniffed the seat of the chair, apparently approved of the smell, and then took the chair with him.

WTF??

Thank you, kind sir. I am now scarred for life.

Allyson: I like my skin to feel like I slathered it in butter and sugar and vanilla and orange.

Like creamsicle cookie dough butter.

Emily: I like my skin to feel like a marmot hiding inside a '62 Mustang.