Cindy gets in touch with her inner ita, in Natter.
I'm the cast-iron skillet's bitch. It's a pan. And a weapon. You really can't ask more from a kitchen utensil.
In Bitches, Lilty Cash mourns the (possible) falling of a great survivor:
Well, he's looking DAMN dead. I haven't flushed him yet, though. I noticed this morning his color was not good, but I thought it was just his usual bi-weekly death throes.
Kristen, in Tech, on mysterious ability to read articles:
See this is the source of my puzzlement. In the two weeks since I got the new powerbook, I can guarantee to you that I had yet to visit the Chicago Tribune's website. Until last night.
DXMachina:
Huh. I wonder if it works on other sites requiring a password? Maybe Apple is now shipping Powerbooks with some sort of double secret password avoidance algorithms installed.
Ita:
Aha! That totally explains Independence Day.
Susan:
There's a product I usually refer to as a "candle pistol" because you pull a trigger and it produces a flame. But it's much bigger than a cigarette lighter. What's its real name?
juliana:
Bic calls it a utility lighter
Jilli:
In our house, it's called the clicky fire thing, and is usually taken away from me.