MFNlaw on what to give the wedding guests:
I'd love to do sparklers, because it looks wonderful in photos, but I'd be afaid to hand even faux-fire to some of my family members. I could end up looking like an extra from a Marilyn Manson video.
Dawn: Any luck? Willow: If you define luck as the absence of success--plenty.
'Touched'
Coffee On My Monitor
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.
Theodosia - Nov 19, 2004 3:40:25 am PST #6962 of 10000
'we all walk this earth feeling we are frauds. The trick is to be grateful and hope the caper doesn't end any time soon"
erinaceous - Nov 19, 2004 5:50:16 am PST #6963 of 10000
A fellow makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled eggs at the electric fan.
from Music:
Hec, and context be damned! We should totally all give Jon a blowjob.
joe boucher Like he's not already getting enough from the MIT groupies, actuary fetishists, and theremin whores!
tommyrot The cool thing about the theremin whores is that they dress like characters in '50s scifi movies.
The actuary fetishists, OTOH, wear business suits. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
Jon B. There's plenty of room for everyone!
(if you know what I mean)
(and I think you do)
Kathy A - Nov 19, 2004 7:43:47 am PST #6964 of 10000
We're very stretchy. - Connie Neil
TomW deciphers the hidden clues in the Frenchwoman episode of "Lost":
A gang of international polar bear smugglers ran their nuclear submarine into a reef... blah blah blah... illegal genetic research... mumble mumble mumble... polar bears on a treadmill... handwave handwave handwave... Hurley is Satan.
It all makes sense.
Aims - Nov 19, 2004 7:44:36 am PST #6965 of 10000
Shit's all sorts of different now.
Ginger in Bitches on the history of animal stuffing:
In the middle ages, they were big on the truffle inside a lark inside a pigeon inside a duck inside a chicken inside a swan with gilded skin dishes. It's another example of the lengths to which boredom can drive one in the absense of moveable type and television.
Dana - Nov 19, 2004 10:33:20 am PST #6966 of 10000
I'm terrifically busy with my ennui.
Jars, in Movies, about the Greeks' persistent denial that Alexander was gay:
I've always looked fondly upon the Put Your Hands on Your Ears and Sing La-La-La school of historical thought.
DXMachina - Nov 19, 2004 11:45:30 am PST #6967 of 10000
You always do this. We get tipsy, and you take advantage of my love of the scientific method.
shrift, in Natter: If anybody in the midwest hears an earth-shattering kaboom sometime in the next few hours, don't worry; it'll just be my head exploding from pent-up rage.
billytea - Nov 19, 2004 1:48:10 pm PST #6968 of 10000
You were a wrong baby who grew up wrong. The wrong kind of wrong. It's better you hear it from a friend.
Polter-Cow, in Bitches:
Also, I like the word "baby." Baby baby baby. Aw, baby. Cute little babie. Babie? The fuck?
Theodosia - Nov 19, 2004 2:58:39 pm PST #6969 of 10000
'we all walk this earth feeling we are frauds. The trick is to be grateful and hope the caper doesn't end any time soon"
Mr. Broom reaches his boggle limit:
At some point the cerebellum hardens into a callus and will not admit further input.
Deena - Nov 19, 2004 6:25:28 pm PST #6970 of 10000
How are you me? You need to stop that. Only I can be me. ~Kara
Polter-Cow in Bitches: You haven't eaten anything all day?
Who do you think you are, me?
Theodosia - Nov 19, 2004 6:42:53 pm PST #6971 of 10000
'we all walk this earth feeling we are frauds. The trick is to be grateful and hope the caper doesn't end any time soon"
amych writes in response to an 'identity protected for her own good' fanfic writer:
"Albus runs away from his heart to Paris but his heart follows him."
In my stubbornly literal mental picture, it's kind of shuffle-hopping along behind him, making moist little squishy-squelchy noises at every hop, and picking up bits of road grime and dropped pigeon feathers as it goes along. Every once in a while it has to stop to catch its breath, because it's hard going, trying to catch up when you're shuffle-hopping and squelching along without legs.