Cindy sets us all straight in Natter:

Topic!Cindy: You know, I would love to blame Jesse for all this snow. After all, she not only taunted happy fun Nor'easter, she's a New Englander turned New Yorker, which is just about as unnatural as green catsup. I can't even entertain the idea of blaming Nilly for this snow. As brilliant and amazing as she is, there are just some things you can't blame on a teeny tiny Israeli woman who has never seen snow, and a classic Nor'easter is one of them.

This is clearly the work of Canadians, folks. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner we can invade and confiscate their weather machine.

Tom Scola: I had to walk a whole two blocks to the subway station this morning. Sure, all the sidewalks were shoveled, but still.

And then, when I got to work, the passageway that goes directly from the subway station up into my building was wet. I could have slipped or something!

BHP in Natter:

I loved the name Piggly-Wiggly. Hearing genteel elderly ladies say "Oh, I must stop off at the Piggly-Wiggly for butter." It could only have been better if it had been "The Eight-Ball".

in Bitches:

ita: You know, I sleep with one Australian, and I'm all pretending I know anything.

billytea: 'Sok, that's all I've racked up too.

Probably not the same one, admittedly.

Anne W., in Lost:

Every now and then, I think about what things would be like if a cadre of Buffistas had wound up on the island. Either we'd have built a four star resort with all the amenties or we'd still be arguing over what to name the island.

In the "It could only happen to Gus" category:

Gus in Natter:

I suppose that if I came in here with some story about a homeless guy living in my house while I was away in Switzerland, it would get eye-rolls.

All the weird stuff happens to Gus, people would think. Monkey bites, etc..

Stories about grappling with your lefty-conscience about getting this dude out of your house, without disrespecting his situation, would draw comparisons.

There is guy who tried to go live in his old High School. He got the upgrade to Jail, where he gets to look 16 in a cage full of child-molesters.

My homesteader was less photogenic, perhaps a little lighter on the hygiene, and a lot older. I called The Man, and filled out forms. Lots and lots of forms.

...and the follow-up after being asked if the aforementioned guy bit him:

Actually, he offered me a drink.

I passed. Recorded here: Gus passed on a free drink.

Special circumstances.

Erin: I just fall down. Sober. Over my own feet. I'm like a cleavagey puppy with lipstick.

NoiseDesign: This is the best description ever! Also, is it wrong that it kinda turns me on?

Cass: A little, but it's not surprising or anything...

Erin: If it's the puppy part, yeah.

NoiseDesign: I think it's more the cleavage and the lipstick, with the cute idea of the puppy.

Or maybe I just pictured you in a collar.

juliana in Natter discusses the opening of Target's "Global Bazaar":

I was shopping all unawares when a horde of Marketing Managers from HQ descended on the section next to me, and I heard exclamations of "It's so cuuuuuuuute!" and "Everything's so unique!" I turned the corner to see what was causing such a commotion, and was confronted with stacks of chairs that are directly copied from chairs Pier 1 has carried for decades, piles of cheaply-embroidered pillows, and the sight of overly-tanned, Midwestern-fashionable managers cooing over plaster Buddhas.

I had to flee.

Gudanov, in Bitches, confusing the badger-song people and immortalizing thedays of the great potato herds.

Peelin', Peelin', Peelin'
Peelin', Peelin', Peelin'
Peelin', Peelin', Peelin'
Peelin', Peelin', Peelin'
French Fry!

Peelin', Peelin', Peelin'
Though the fryers are steaming
Keep them taters Peelin'
French Fry!
Rain and wind and weather
Hell-bent for leather
Wishin' my gal was by my side.
All the things I'm missin',
Good vittles, love, and kissin',
Are waiting at the end of my ride

Move 'em on, head 'em up
Head 'em up, move 'em on
Move 'em on, head 'em up
French Fry
Count 'em out, ride 'em in,
Ride 'em in, count 'em out,
Count 'em out, ride 'em in
French Fry!

Allyson: The thing that makes me most want to bust Heinlen in the teeth is the smarmy way he covers up the fact that all he wants to do is fuck and not pay taxes by pretending to be a great philosopher.

WhatEV, Bob. If you want to hump your in-laws, that's cool. Just don't try to tell me it's an important part of a great libertarian utopia that is of course the right way to go. But no, you're not serious, you just want me to think, but I can't really think Bob, when of course all I want to do is marry into your family and carry your seed, as is my role.

Silly me. *gigglelolomigod*

Allyson (upon reflecting): Wow. I wonder if I've transferred a portion of my Dubya hate to Heinlen, because I found it so impossible to hate someone so much that I had to wring out the excess onto Heinlen.