I'm not sure who the first person is ...

askye, it was Heather Alayne.

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Benno: [eyeroll] Babies.

May I just say, on behalf of my two-and-a-half-year-old, definitely-no-longer-a-baby, non-stop-talking-bilingual son: Hah!

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I'm stunned.

I'm so stunned that I save my COMM reading up for the weekend, certain that I will never appear here and, therefore, be in the position of making a quick thank you. But, hey, turns out I was wrong.

Thanks Theodosia for selecting my garbage (topic not content) story to be COMM'ed.

My verra first time.

::small curtsey::

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Murder investigation via Google:

Am Chau in Buffy:

ita, to the best of my knowledge wallabies have never drowned anybody. On the other hand, a Google for "UK wild wallabies drown actor" gets 10 hits, so who am I to say?

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Thanks for the COMM, ita. I feel I should point out for the record that those Google results deal with the movies of Roger Daltrey, the War on Terror, English history 1903-1955, stranglings, and a newsletter called Rampant Scotland, which is almost funnier than the kangaroo trying to drown Aragorn.

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As per usual, Spike's Bitches talk food and love

Polter-Cow: My meals rotate through the following list:

• Turkey hot dogs
  
• Frozen pizza
  
• Actual pizza
  
• Lunchmeat sandwiches
  
• Tyson chicken patty burgers
  
• Pasta-Roni
  
• Macaroni and cheese
  
• Spaghetti (recently, with garlic cheese Texas toast, mmm)
  
• Indian-food-in-a-box
  
• Something cheap and microwaveable

amych: Kids! Stop the cycle of bad food now while you're still young -- otherwise a terrifying future of bachelor chow in a tube awaits you.

Emily: Polter-Cow, I laugh at your feeble efforts to claim boringness of menu. In my pre-vw days, I was down to alternating pizza with frozen burritos.

Polter-Cow: See, every time I go to the supermarket, I say, "Okay, this time I'll try something different." I've had the same menu for pretty much a year now. But then I just stick with what I know, cause I'm cheap and lazy. I can also make a quesadilla or a grilled burrito, and if I try really hard I can make enchiladas, but I keep forgetting I have those materials. Oh, this one time I made a peanut butter sandwich.

Nora: Another food note: Tom cooked chicken mole and coffee flan and we watched Once Upon a Time in Mexico last night. I love theme nights!

Polter-Cow: You. People. Are. Killing. Me.

Nora: P-C, you should take a cooking class of some sort (or several, or get a friend who knows how to cook to tutor you) for 2 reasons:

1) you would be able to feed yourself in the style to which you wish to become accustomed;

2) Chicks love a man who can cook.

Teppy: I love a guy who can cook, pretty much because (1) I can't, and (2) I love to eat.

I don't get much out of watching a guy cook for me, though. It's too stressful. I feel like I should be helping instead of sitting there like an ingrate.

Though, don't get me wrong, competence is sexy. WAY sexy.

Polter-Cow: But incompetence is endearing and charming, right? Right? Please?

Teppy: Why do you think women find fumbling, bumbling Hugh Grant so sexy?

later...

Polter-Cow: I checked inside the refrigerator, and, as I suspected, my Mission flour tortillas were as pristine as they were nearly a year ago. Those things keep for fucking forever.

I tossed them on the counter, along with the shredded cheese from the freezer. I nimbly retrieved a can of Taco Bell refried beans from the upper shelf and then grabbed the stash of Taco Bell hot sauce packets out of the fridge. Finally, I procured the small tub of margarine and large container of Pace picante sauce. I put a frying pan on the range in Quadrant III and a small pot (freshly cleaned) on Quadrant I and turned the appropriate dials on the stove.

My imaginary date watched in awe, but not shock.

I poured some oil in the pot, opened the can of beans, and spooned the beans into the pot. After several moments, it became clear that I had turned on the wrong range, front instead of rear. I rectified my mistake and poured some picante sauce into the beans.

My imaginary date laughed softly, thinking of the hot, wild sex that a man so inept could provide her.

Meanwhile, in Quadrant III, a dollop of margarine melted as I employed rotational wrist action to the frying pan. I placed a tortilla on the pan and quickly took a handful of cheese from the bag. I sprinkled a good amount onto the right half and spooned several dollops of beans (now mixed with picante goodness) onto the line of cheese. I applied the Taco Bell hot sauce. Finally, I added some more cheese atop the beans.

The smell informed me that as usual, I had burned the first one. Lifting the other half up with a spatula confirmed this, and the fact that I had left the dial halfway between med and hi explained it.

Behind me, I heard her say, "Oh! It burns so gooood."

I folded the failed quesadilla and flipped it for completion's sake. Then I transferred it to a styrofoam plate and prepared to try again, with the dial between lo and med.

The second one went far better, with few hitches, despite the inevitable stray material hitting the bare pan, no longer protected by the soft carbohydratacular goodness of the tortilla.

"Oh yes!" she said. "Sizzle! I can feel it sizzle! Oh God yes!"

With the third one, I finished off my penultimate bag of cheese. I dumped it all on the tortilla and spread it onto the right half with my hands, evening out the distribution.

"You touch that cheese!" she said. "Touch it, baby! Yeah!"

With the bean-and-cheese quesadillas more or less competently made, we settled down to watch a classic episode of Gilmore Girls, followed by appropriate behavior for the Couch of Sin.

Beans and cheese and tortillas. God bless Mexican ingenuity.

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Polter-Cow, in Movies:

I though Dark City would be great, but it turned out to be merely good. It's definitely Matrix-y before The Matrix (and there's a bit of The Thirteenth Floor in there too), but it doesn't turn into a rock-'em-sock-'em action flick. Instead, it chooses to be so drenched in noir I could actually see some noir seeping out of the TV and falling onto the floor.

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In Minearverse:

Nilly

Signed, still haven't watched "Objects in Space" and therefore doesn't read the "Firefly" thread.

Polter-Cow

Hey, remember that time in "Objects in Space" when Mal dies three times?

I mean...

tommyrot

Yeah! It was so sad when he only came back to life twice. But also funny.

And who woulda' thunk that Inera would quit being a companion to become an accountant?

Polter-Cow

I was surprised to discover that Book's Big Secret was that he had been a clown. I guess clowns are more respected in the future. And use more guns.

tommyrot

Yeah, he was kicked out of the Clown Guild for exposing the fact that Blue Sun Corp. Clown Facepaint is what causes folks to turn Reaver.

Robin

I was also quite moved when Jayne revealed his choreography background and did his interpretive dance entitled "Searching for Happiness."

Lee

I loved the fact that Kaylee turned out to be a Fed. Never saw that one coming.

...

libkitty

Oh, and don't worry about the part where the creepy aliens attack the ship. I know that they said the show had no aliens, but it is all explained later.

Daniel C. Jensen

And Kaylee in the corset and long red fishnets, with the bullwhip? Priceless.

Wolfram

And Kaylee in the corset and long red fishnets, with the bullwhip? Priceless.

That was Book.

libkitty

You're both right DCJ and Wolfram. Remember? It was Kaylee in the Sound of Music singalong, and Book in the gay bar.

Narrator

I thought Simon was in the gay bar. Darn. Now I have to rewatch the episode and see.

...

and the piece de resistance

Matt the Bruins Fan

I thought Simon was in the gay bar. Darn. Now I have to rewatch the episode and see.

Narrator, they're listing funny events that are out of character.

Edited because the box is way too small for me to try and post this long of a message without messing up at least three or four times.

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Kat:

one thing that strikes me in reading this convo is how the word LIBERAL has been demonized through connotation.

Did anyone hear the NPR piece on just this? They talked about how in the 60s, Nixon talked about being a liberal himself.

Liberal is a great word. Shares a root with liberty and freedom. If we're afraid to say, "I'm for freedom" then we're fucked as a country.

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JZ: My TiVo is sneering at me. After spending TWO HOURS after work trying to make the TiVo, VCR, TV and cable box speak to one another, I give up. We're gonna end up drowning in episodes of Teen Titans, and I'm never gonna be able to save one damn minute of Jon Stewart.

throws well-groomed little first world body to the floor, drumming beautifully pedicured feet and waving adequately manicured fists in bourgeois despair

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