Deena in Bitches, on the joys of parenting a girl-tot:

In the time I was iconizing Colin, Kara gave our super-duper-gas-and-poopies machine her milk. And then after I took it away and as I was getting him some lactose free milk, she took hers, got the cap off, and dumped it down the heater vent, and then sat in the puddle on top of the vent and played with the electrical outlet.

I'm so ready to give her away to the first old lady who offers me some fresh rampion, I swear.

Catching up in Firefly, and Wolfram caused me to snort ...

Wearenotacult. Wearenotacult. Wearenotacult.

All this talk of conversion was making me a little nervous. I feel better now.

Now I'm off to the airport with some DVDs and apples.

-Brother Wolfram

Hec, context be darned (see what I did there?...anyhow)

Hec: frankly as a parent you don't want to talk to your kid as much as they want to talk to you

In Natter, Heather Alayne sums up the futlessness of the late shift beautifully by making an impromptu poem out of the posts (it's the last line that got me):

The late shift's ode to insomnia and laziness

I have to go to a lecture in around half an hour.

I do see that happening, though.

I need to be folding laundry, making the bed and getting in it so that I can maybe actually leave for home tomorrow.

Don't see it happening.

All I really need to do is got to sleep.

Don't see that happening either though.

I'll probably make a quick attempt at folding clothes.

Maybe after this cigarette.

Nilly, on the magic of subtraction:

Our supervisor at where I lived for the first year of my national service used to never show up for the weekly meetings. His name was Shinkolevski, and each time he didn't show up, we took a letter from his name when talking about him. So he went to shorter and shorter names, and right before his name disappeared entirely, when we were at "Sh", he was replaced by somebody else (who did show up, so no un-naming for her).

I'm just the setup.

Sean K:

All of us naming our kids ita? That would suck.

tommyrot:

I think the best solution is to have a bunch of ita potentials. Then when they reach puberty, one ita will be activated. If that ita were to die or otherwise be unable to fulfil her ita duties, another would be called, and so on....

On Garth Ancier heading the WB and naming a new president of entertainment, in the Angel thread:

Kristen: No, I think that, these days, it translates to Garth's Lackey.

Frankenbuddha: So basically, the position would be toady for the frog?

Erikaj really is the quintessential Homicide fangirl. From Bitches:

Cool Braugher story. I still think that if I met him it might be like Fay and the Americanisms "Wow, could you just say that for me?" Which is still less embarrassing than the things that could happen if it was Secor. "My God, I love to watch you suffer. You're so good at it."(pause) You didn't get to keep the jacket, did you?"

My God...blushing now.

In Natter, I hurt myself laughing at the Buffista brainstorming session for Lilty Cash, who is experiencing the weirdness of being asked to hide the fact her boss has a color copier:

Ginger:

Having to lie about the existence of a color copier is both demeaning and bizarre, an unfortunate combination. Perhaps you should just tell people, "My boss just wiggled her nose and color copies appeared."

tommyrot:

Don't lie. Just do what the US Navy does when people inquire whether a specific ship carries nuclear weapons:

"I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a color copier in our office."

ita:

Why don't you suggest a little tip cup next to it? Or maybe when people say "But I saw the colour copy!" insist that it's not colour.

Lilty Cash:

Or I could go Fat Tony style: "What's an office?"

Fred Pete:

"These are not the color copies you seek."

Lilty Cash:

Or when people ask, I can look sad, say "I does it meself, sir", and pull a box of colored pencils our of my back pocket.