Lilty Cash, in Bitches:

Speaking of drinking and European sex (and who cares if it's exactly what we were talking about, let's indulge!), I am both packing and drinking a Seabreeze. (This liquor ain't just going to evaporate out of the apartment. Is it? Because if it is, I'd better drink faster.)

This packing for a backpack stuff? Hard. I keep being tempted to bring things that are cute rather than serviceable. Shoes, I can deal with. I think I'm going to bring my Tevas for just about everything, then a pair of regular old flip-flops. I figure, they can be used for showers or to look sassy if nessecary (Because I'm skanky like that.)

But, must I really say no to one satin cami? If it gets wrinkled enough, it looks like it's supposed to be that way! What if I go to a pub and there is a pretty Irish/Italian/Swiss/French boy? And I can roll up my little khaki skirt until it takes up just about no room at all!

Of course, once there, the real problem with the Irish/Italian/Swiss/French boy is not turning into that girl who flips over the accents. I don't want to be that girl. (I so am.)

Me: Be cool be cool be cool.

Dude: 'Allo.

Me: Let's make out.

From Movies:

Jesse: So, Fantastic Four? Really not so good...

DavidS: Did you go see this with your ex?

::suspicious look::

Jesse: I did. We're friends now! And he got the tickets for free.

ita: Friends don't take friends to see F4.

In Bitches, Fay responds on Erin's behalf to a vitriolic, ignorant and poorly spelled email:

Fay:

Wow, Erin. Wow. Sorry, I can't resist.

Dear [stupid cow],

You say "I am intitled to my opinion as much as the next person." You certainly are entitled (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) to your own opinion about what constitutes a good teacher. However, you are being remarkably disingenuous to pretend surprise at having inspired a negative response with your offensive, ill-informed and appallingly spelled email. You and I are strangers. You know nothing about my skills base, nothing about my professional conduct, nothing about my moral code, nothing about my philosophy of education, nothing about my competence in the classroom, nothing about my intellect, nothing, in short, about who I am. What you have right now, lady are your assumptions and prejudices, and nothing else.

You say: “I think teacehers should be PROUD of what they do and are ROLE MODELS for youth.”

I quite agree that teachers (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) should be proud of what they do. I am tremendously proud of how hard I work, and how passionately I care about my job. I am proud that, given my intelligence and broad skills base, I have chosen to follow my heart and devote myself to helping young people to develop their skills and understanding, rather than working in a better paid but less worthwhile career. I am proud to be a role model for my students; I believe passionately in helping them to fulfil their potential and I actively model not only intellectual curiosity, self reliance, independent thinking and academic integrity, but also compassion and open mindedness. I do not teach my students to be bigots. I do not teach my students to make assumptions on the basis of little or no evidence. I do not teach my students to look down on other people.

You say: “…you do not have to be so angry about it. But I am not supriised that a person like you are who have would write such an angry letter back at me.”

You certainly should not be surprised (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) that your offensive, presumptuous and threatening email to a total stranger provoked an indignant response. In education, we call this “cause and effect.” It is, in my opinion, more than a little disingenuous (this is a long word we educated people sometimes use to mean "pretending to be stupider than you really are") of you to try to present the appearance of the wounded party at this point. You started this.

You say: “I should write your school adn tell them what a bitch yuo are but since you are not teaching my children I can tell you would just like that as a way to feel ike you are somebody important.”

By all means, dear lady, do write to my school and (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) tell them what a bitch you consider me to be. Surprisingly, my employers actually do know me quite well. It is even conceivable that, having actually MET me in person, and having witnessed my teaching style, observed my work clothes, monitored my professionalism and conduct towards my students and to my colleagues, that they may have a slightly better understanding of my character than you (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) possess at this juncture. As to whether a complaint from a total stranger would make me feel like (that’s how it’s spelled, by the way) I was somebody important – dear lady, my self-esteem is based upon a thorough knowledge of my own strengths and weaknesses, not upon complaints or plaudits I might receive from someone such as you. I am an intelligent, witty, sexy, capable professional, and I certainly do not need affirmation or condemnation from total strangers who don’t have the wit to cover up their pitiful grammar and spelling with something as simple as spell check.

Your pithy little letter ended thus: “So I think you can just FUCK OFF and one day you will probably be fired for being a FUCKING WHORE as I am sur eyou are from how you talked to people you don't know. Don't worry I won't (continued...)

( continues...)

writ eyou again, because I am a better person and have better things to do with my day than waste on somene LIKE YOU!"”

How eloquent. Are you genuinely under the impression that I, not you, have been the offensive party in this little conversation? I don’t recall using expletives in my response to your unsolicited attack, so your deduction that this exchange of emails shows you as “a better person” demonstrates crazy troll logic, in my book. Lady, you have had the effrontery to set yourself up as an arbiter of my fitness for my chosen profession, and you know absolutely nothing about me. By this point, however, you may have gathered that I’m quite a lot smarter than you, and that I am at home to Mr Punctuation and Mr Grammar. This might possibly indicate to you that I do have at least some qualifications for my position.

(Speaking of positions - if I should ever take up prostitution and become, in your charming vernacular, a “FUCKING WHORE”, then I dare say I should earn considerably more money for considerably less work than I receive at present, so being fired from my teaching position would be the last thing I’d be worried about.)

Sorry, perhaps that sentence was too long; I get the impression that you’re not exactly comfortable with the conditional tense.

Let me explain. No, it’s too complicated. Let me sum up. As a teacher I strive to help my students overcome their difficulties, and I try hard to model courtesy as well as kindness; when dealing with adults who purport to be my equals, however, I see no reason to use kid gloves.

Your extraordinarily ill-informed, ill-spelled and ill-mannered epistles have made you a laughing stock already. You embarrass yourself with every word you attempt to type.

You may rest assured, however, that I shall not humiliate you by letting the other people at the wedding know how painfully ignorant and small-minded you are. It can be our little secret.

DX, in Natter:

Sheep, or Lemmings?

Sam Sheepdog and Ralph Wolf have a brew after a hard day's work in the fields.

Sam (blows the head off the beer, and the hair out of his eyes): Well, that was the damnedest thing I ever saw.

Ralph: No kidding. I never, ever, thought that would happen.

Sam: How'd ya do it?

Ralph: I just put on that old sheep suit. You know the one. I've worn it before.

Sam: I remember.

Ralph: Anyway, I was gonna try to sneak in and grab a sheep. Nothing fancy.

Sam: You know that never works. I always see ya.

Ralph: I know that, but I figured maybe you wouldn't expect it again. Besides, Acme was back ordered on my original idea.

Sam: Which was?

Ralph: Nice try. You'll just have to wait. Anyway, I decided to try a new angle. The cliff's right there, so I figured I'd climb up rather than try to sneak in from one of the usual ways.

Sam: Good thought. I'll have to keep that in mind.

Ralph: Nah. Turns out it's a huge pain in the haunch. By the time I got to the top, I was panting like a St. Bernard in the tropics. I wasn't watching where I was going, and stepped on a sheep patty.

Sam: Damn, I hate it when I do that.

Ralph: No kidding. Anyway, I slipped, and next thing I know I'm falling back over the edge. Fortunately, there was a branch there that I was able to grab.

Sam: I thought I cut that off the last time you were hanging over there.

Ralph: It grew back. So, I'm hanging there, thanking my lucky stars, when a sheep goes flying by me. And then another, and another. They just kept coming. Soon, there was the biggest pile of dead sheep I'd ever seen below me, so I just let go, and aimed for all the wool. Softest landing I ever had.

Sam: It was bound to happen. Sheep follow. One of them sees another sheep going over the cliff, and decides that looks like a good idea, and does the exact same thing. Next thing ya know, they're all doing it. They're like TV networks that way.

Ralph: Ain't it the truth. (glances at watch) Well, I've gotta go. Me and a bunch of friends are gonna have a barbeque down by the beach. Hey, why don't you drop on by. We're doing zouvlaki.

Sam: Nah, I can't, Besides, it wouldn't be right.

Ralph: Okay then. Night, Sam.

Sam: Night, Ralph.

-t in Bitches:

I reallized why the "Be good" sign off bugs me. It's what I say to my dog when I leave the house, meaning "don't crap on the carpet or eat the furniture". So I probably don't hear it in the spirit the sayer intends it.

From Bitches. Context? Way funnier without!

Fay: ...and thus am I punished for squicking people with accounts of my father's self-administered genital surgery.

sighs

msbelle, in Natter:

I was getting ready for be-ed and I decided to check in on the bo-oard and so I went to the bo-oard and starting reading in Natter. Oh Robin was in there posting about that lame ass R. Kelly song/video and I had to laugh because I was talking about it the other day and then saw part of it on MTV2 this afternoon. Oh yeah, I sure did. Then I typed up this post and almost couldn't finish it because I was crackin myself up so hard, damn I am funny, I said, damn I am funny. I'm funny. Oh hell yeah I am so funny. Fu fu fu funny. <melisma> fuh uuh uh uh uhhuhuh nnnnnnn nnnn nnn yyyyyyyyyyyyy! </melisma> .

from Natter

Matt the Bruins fan:

I went out and ate at a new Irish pub that opened near me. That's ate, not drank. Clearly my ancestors fled from Ireland back in the 19th century in search of the much tastier English cuisine.

I now know in my heart that Guinness was perfected in a desperate attempt to do away with the need for solid food altogether.

Natter:

NoiseDesign: I remember having some pretty good food with relatives in Northern Ireland years ago when I visited. I also remember potatoes served at least three different ways at every meal.
billytea: Was one of them with a tennis racquet? Because it really should have been.