Natter:

Betsy HP:

As far as I can tell, there's no place online you can buy a hair shirt.

This seems like an obvious gap. Where do holy hermits get their supplies?

DavidS:

I thought they made it with their own hair, ala the Manson Wives.

amych:

meamaximaculpa.com is for sale, if anyone's looking to fill an obvious niche....

Cass: Owen,

Look deeply into momma's very pretty eyes. They look lots like yours, right?

Well Sleep makes them much more sparkley.

And also useful to draw minions under your thrall. Try it.

Sleep and see how powerful you can become.

Also? The books? Gawd the cute. Reading is good.

Love, Auntie Cass

Cashmere: Dear Auntie Cass,

It's so funny to see Mommy get up early. Her hair is sticking up and her eyes are all sleepy.

Plus, she gives me a bottle and turns on the tv.

Besides, I'll catch up with two naps today.

Love, Owen

P.S. BWHAHAHAHAHA

Cass: Dear Owen,

No laughing at the mommy. Even for sticky up hair. (Okay, but try to control it into a grin that might mean teeth, might mean funny)

The bottle contains the Sleepy Nectar of Milk (or milk replacement). It will lull you back to the land of twitchy baby dreams.

Watch the tv. The soothing colors and editing make Baby Owen very sleepy cause he is up early. Very sleepy. Slumping against the mommy and happy to be put down to dream for a couple more hours...

Love, Auntie Cass

(When you sleep, mommy can sleep too... Hee hee.... )

Topic!Cindy: Dear Owen,

You're already too beautiful. You don't need to be evil, too.

Love, Auntie Cindy

Going back a long ways in the Firefly thread:

Kathy Astrom:

How much smarm could a marmot snark if a marmot could snark smarm?

Beej, in Bitches, on the perils of addictive faux-feline arranging:

In other news. You know you've stacked too many cats when your dog does an intervention.

Seriously, I've developed a bit of of a problem with the carefully placing feline facsimilies and Bartleby has become concerned. Last night, it all came to a head after he'd been staring at me...he uses the strategic stare of death to communicate. (Barking would be to common for him.)

I determined that the stare was not an outside? or supper? or play ball? stare...but since I'd never seen the "Dear Dog, my person has become a pathetic, powerless cat stacker and I must save her" stare before, I misunderstood. So. I kept stacking. What else was I supposed to do?

It got pretty uncomfortable as he kept creeping closer and closer to me, staring all the while.

I should point out that he's no lap dog. Like now, for instance. He's obviously watching me closely...periodically checking that he sees no cats stacking on the screen. But he's lying beside me, relatively calm. Every now and then, he lolls his head around to give me the "It's okay, you can do it" stare, but mostly he's calm.

Last night...after increasingly forceful staring, he leapt up onto my lap, with all 43 of his lbs. and literally slapped the keyboard out of my hands and on to the floor. He stretched himself across me, so it was impossible to move and began fervently licking my hands with what was obviously a 'reject the evil cat stacking', admit you are powerless over the stacking, I'll be right here with you, there is life after stacking," intensity.

I'm pretty sure he's having "one day at a time" inscribed on a Milk Bone for me.

Damn you, Kathy! I was just about to do that!

t clears the clipboard, muttering

Sigh.

Maybe I'll take up smoking.

(Beej, don't bother. You'll just learn to get out the smokes when a matched pair of cats is falling, or when the dog (not your dog, the cat stacking dog) comes to clear them out. If you can wrangle a lighter with your non-mouse hand, you're just going to end up doing both at the same time. *cough*)

Nora Deirdre on Massachusetts: We may have crappy insurance laws, but we have gay marriage! (I don't think there is a connection though)

In Natter.

Jesse: I just need to point out that in the northern US, winter is NEVER OVER IN EARLY FEBRUARY.

Amych: Are you a groundhog? I don't think you have the authority to tell us that unless you're an oversized rodent. Also, if you are in fact an oversized rodent, let me congratulate you on your language skills.

David: David's Lunch: Grilled skirt steak sandwich, juicy and tender. Served on a ciabatta roll with sauteed mushrooms and onions, and a touch of horseradish sauce. For dessert: the banana cream tartlette I like from Miette, that has a Scharffenberger chocolate bottom.

erika: Hec, shut up. I had a peanut butter sandwich. Kind of depressing.

David: I'm not responsible for your mediocre sandwich choices!

erika: No, but you're a taunter, and a face-rubber-in-. I'd be very annoyed if you didn't get around me by having the Perfect Word so often, Hecubus.

David: ::sniff:: There's hardly any point in living in San Francisco if you can't taunt people about it on a regular basis.

JZ: You know, erika, if you lived in Berkeley you'd be at any given moment just a block or so from your choice of twenty restaurants offering chichi gourmet sandwiches that would make Hec weep with envy, all fully wheelchair-accessible.

(The restaurants, I mean, not the sandwiches.)

(Not that the sandwiches aren't accessible, too. They are.)

(But you probably already guessed that.)

</tempting>

</bogarting all the parentheses>

erika: Dude, I think I just got Bad Cop-Good Copped by the Zmayhem.