In Bitches:

beth: with cats you don't want burlap on your walls. In the first house we lived in in CA - there was burlap on the walls in one room. one of our cats would climb the wall, bump his head on the ceiling and cry , because he couldn't get any higher.

Matt's no-good, very bad night:

I did my level best Lucy impression last night as I attempted to find the proper amount of bleach to turn the bright green socks I bought into something resembling the shirt they're going to be paired with. I learned:

(1) There is no amount of exposure to bleach brief enough to avoid stripping out too much of the blue dye.

(2) Vinegar is almost as effective as bleach at stripping out said dye. Again, no amount of exposure sufficiently brief for the desired effect.

(3) Despite several minutes of rinsing and wringing, cotton fabric remains saturated once it's been dipped in bleach and vinegar.

(4) Cotton fabric so saturated should never be dried in a microwave.

(5) After bleach/vinegar saturated fabric has burst into flame within the microwave, it gives off a choke-inducing yellow smoke.

(6) Said choke-inducing yellow smoke, while thick enough to cause wooziness and teary eyes within three breaths of exposure, somehow avoids setting off a smoke alarm that won't let me cook bacon in peace.

(7) When shouldering open a stuck kitchen door to the deck for fresh air while clad solely in boxers, it would be wise to make sure it's not 35° outside said door.

(8) Likewise, during same activity, it would be best to avoid performing it with such force that one ends up spread eagled before the now-open door as one's neighbors are returning from the night shift.

(9) When picking oneself up off the floor after such a pratfall, one should be grateful for the aforementioned 35° temperature, which... minimizes... any breaches of decorum that might result from the sudden realization that one has chosen the pair of boxers with no fly button for the night's endeavor.

My worries about the neighbor's and landlord's negative reaction when I announce my departure for an apartment in Memphis have suddenly been allayed.

context-free cathy in Natter:

the flying monkeys of bad luck can bite me

Steph L. in Angel:

As long as the series doesn't end with Angel and Wes turned into a pile of Nerds (the candy), I'm good.

amyparker: Trudy, Kenny can't have beer. kitten can't have it, either. DH had beer and drove hohme. who should share beer? waiat, evmily wanateed beer?

Vonnie K joins in on the discussion of Stargate plots, characterizations, and SFnal elements, then pauses to say:

Hey, when you guys put it like that, the show sounds really cracked! OK, it can be, from time to time. But when we mock, we mock with love, I say.

In the Minearverse thread:

Tim Minear: Thanks, Allyson. But I have very little rage, actually.

Allyson: Because you have fictional characters to murder, Tim. If we all had wee pretend people to slaughter in heart-stomping glory, I suppose the world would be a less angry place.

Gleebo in Firefly:

Im not at liberty to discuss cyborg penis.

In the Music thread:

Lyra Jane:

It's kind of like one of those puzzles where Jim, Joe and John are a baker, a butcher, and a candlestick maker and have red, blond and brown hair, and the butcher is not a redhead and Jim has brown hair, and you have to figure out who's who.

tina:

Those are puzzles? That people do for fun? I'm actually surprised because those are a type of question I've ever only run into on the analytical portion of the GREs (that's pretty much ALL the analytical section is). And I have nightmares about them.

In the nightmare my mom wants me to paint her house. But no green wall can be next to a red wall and no blue walls can be next to yellow walls but the hallway has to be orange and the living room has to be purple. And then she asks why I'm not married yet.

I have to preserve this volley in the Minearverse:

Tim Minear:

give me a few million and I'll give you Angel movie that'll roll your eyes back. In a good way.

Cass:

There is a *bad* way?

P.M. Marcontell:

I'm not entirely sure why I had a huge and blinding Clockwork Orange flash there...

Allyson:

Just a few million? Will I be playing Angel?

P.M. Marcontell:

Your hair's too nice.

We'd have to glue a porcupine on top of your head.

Allyson:

Hey, for a few hundred grand, I'll shove my head up a porcupine's ass and wear it as a hat. I dunno how I'd work out the whole forehead issue, though.

Tim Minear:

Allyson, they really don't make you shove your head up anything's ass until they make an overall deal with you. Was that clear? Can you hear me? Was that muffled?