shrift in Natter:
Every time a fan goes off her rails, a kerfuffle gets its wings.
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shrift in Natter:
Every time a fan goes off her rails, a kerfuffle gets its wings.
In Natter, a nice little convergence:
Betsy:
A Reuters headline that is a warning to us all:
Day from Hell May Have Killed Off Dinosaurs
I've had days like that.
Sean
We're getting HAILED on down here in Hollywood.
Lovely juxtaposition of posts.
The erikaj & SeanK show, Natter
Secret Service: Yes, I want to speak to God, AKA The Creator, AKA The Supreme Being, AKA...well, there are a lot of aliases.
"So, Jehovah, huh? What kind of name is that? You Arabic?
This is like the fourteenth time I've COMMed ita.
In Natter, on Ashlee Simpson's acid reflux:
She should become the acid reflux spokesperson, like Halle is for diabetes and T-Boz for sickle cell anæmia.
Wait, maybe you have to be black to be a diseased spokesmodel.
deborah grabian in Bitches:
Mono is about as much fun as having sex in an Iron Maiden.
Juliana in F2F (context be damned):
I'm going as Desire, which should help cut down the packing.
Dweebs on Parade
Rick V.: One year in graduate school I bought balloons in the standard colors used to illustrate carbon, hydrogen, etc. and attached them to my body in a particular pattern, going to the party as a serotonin molecule. At one point a group of neuroscientists posing as enzymes came over and popped particular balloons with pins, metabolizing me into 5-hydroxy-indoleacetic acid. For the rest of the night when people asked what I was supposed to be, I had to say "Uh, I came as an obscure metabolite of serotonin."
The next year I got an empty bicycle box, painted it, cut a hole at one end for my head, and went as Rorschach Card # III. I got less trouble from the neuroscientists that year, but I had to put up with behaviorists ridiculing my validity all night.
Polter-Cow: Oh my God. That is the best story ever.
Damnit, Trudy!
t stomps away in a huff
t jumps into the back of Dana's Huff-mo-bile and goes for a ride