In Natter...
Jesse: SO, in other news...I can't believe next week is Thanksgiving already!
Aimée: No kidding - the time went where, exactly??
Miracleman: Jim Croce's place. He bottles it.
DAMN YOU JIM CROCE!!
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.
In Natter...
Jesse: SO, in other news...I can't believe next week is Thanksgiving already!
Aimée: No kidding - the time went where, exactly??
Miracleman: Jim Croce's place. He bottles it.
DAMN YOU JIM CROCE!!
Nutty: At work. Composing talking points to boss about why he is a turd. Sadly, this isn't as much fun as you might think, because I have to compose it in a way that won't get me fired when I recite it to him later today. I don't even get to use the word "turd".
Ti Couz
I'm sorry, but I don't think I could ever eat there, because the name sounds too dirty. Because I don't speak French.
-- Jesse
Ti Couz
Whoa. Synchronicity. I didn't see this in wherever it was originally posted but just this afternoon I was struggling mightily to remember this name to tell my friend who is visiting SF in a couple of weeks. She asked for my favorite restaurant there. Ti Couz opened while i was living in the Mission. I spent my 25th (? maybe 26th) birthday there the year it opened. And it is someplace I go at least once when I come into town. I can taste the mushroom, almond, tomato savory crepe in my head but same stupid old, holey brain couldn't remember the name of the restaurant today. Thank god for Buffistas.
In Bitches:
Deb:Try imagining what it's like running around with the Grateful Dead and the Rolling Stones, and being allergic to recreational pharmaceuticals.
Phill:"Boy, this music is pretty boring."
smonster, in Angel:
Ahem. My name is smonster, and I'll be serving you this evening. Our specials are wrod with a special wrod sauce. It's served with a side of wrod, and I highly recommend the Chateau Mot to go along. For dessert there's baked wrod floating in a mot coulis.
Can I interest you in an appetizer? The wrod rolls are truly a delight.
Daniel C. Jensen in Angel - very spoilery:
Scene:
A small stage highlights a room at Caritas III, opened in the old ballroom at the Hyperion.
Lorne sighs, and relaxes, finally. There are two empty Sea Breeze glasses on the table. He raises a third to his lips and slowly sips. He sets it down.
Turning to his right, across the table, he Speaks to Angel. "Thanks sugarcakes, this is perfect. Just the place i needed to relax after a day at Wolfram and Hart."
"No problem, Lorne," replies Angel. "I can't believe we didn't think of this earlier. But I have to go. If you have any problems, let me know. I need to go corall Spike. He took the Viper again." Angel gets up to leave, and Lorne waves goodbye with his Sea Breeze and waits for the first performer onstage.
As Angel makes his way to the door, a short muscular man in plain blue jeans, white tshirt and cowboy boots takes the stage behind him. The man carries a guitar, and his bare arms are covered with strange markings and runes.
He adjusts the microphone and begins playing the guitar. Just as Angel reaches the door, he hears the song.
"If I had a hammer..."
Context?
Betsy: There poor Foo is, stumbling around a quasi-Serbian Ruritania, wondering why everybody giggles when he introduces himself.
In Previously, on A/C, edited highlights:
P.M.Marcontell:
And Cordelia boinking Bon Bon remains less nausea inducing than Cordelia yammering at Angel about love and seeing what he'd done, and feeling his pleasure, and CHRIST, A/C makes me want to poke my eyes out. With forks. And then rub salt in them.
Matt the Bruins Fan:
You're far more charitable than I. It made me want to poke Greenwalt's eyes out. With forks. And then rub salt in them.
P.M.Marcontell:
Eh, he gave me naked Wes in 3x22.
So, y'know, I kinda owe him a fruitbasket, Crapture notwithstanding.
Madrigial Costello:
in "Waiting in the Wings" I almost got the impression that Angel was seeing Cordy as more of a mother for Connor than a lover for himself. He'd rejected Fred as too crazy, Lorne as too feminine, Kate as too anti-vampire, Anne as not on the show enough, and Joyce as too dead.
Matt the Bruins Fan:
the only way it possibly could have worked would have been to keep their siblingesque friendship and snarky exasperation with each other's BS and just add a sexual component to it. Instead, we got Wuthering Depths.
Betsy HP, in Literary, on properly learning the steps of a thing:
If I walk into Krav class and the instructor says "Redirect the weapon", and I say "But what if there's a boatload of nuns behind me?", the instructor is going to say "REDIRECT THE WEAPON."
First you learn to redirect the weapon. Then you learn what to do when there's a boatload of nuns present.