'Safe'
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Polter-Cow, in Bitches:
Also, I like the word "baby." Baby baby baby. Aw, baby. Cute little babie. Babie? The fuck?
Mr. Broom reaches his boggle limit:
At some point the cerebellum hardens into a callus and will not admit further input.
Polter-Cow in Bitches: You haven't eaten anything all day?
Who do you think you are, me?
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.
billytea in Natter, context be damned.
I believe the roachbots are our future
Teach them well, and let them lead the way...
Sparky1 in Bitches: (best off-the-cuff definition, evah)
Turducken is dead bird concentrate.