Hec: Emmett's team lost a heartbreaker.

They were winning going into the bottom of the last inning. The other team had a runner at second with two outs.

The pitcher got a comebacker, but instead of throwing to first to get the easy force, win the game and go to the finals, instead threw to third where they didn't get the out, and the other team went on to win.

Translated into Fannish: Pippin manages to get the One Ring away from Gollum at the very crack of Mount Doom, breathes a sigh of relief and absent-mindedly hands it to a nearby Orc.

Emmett, however, went 3-3 with a walk.

billytea on gender roles:

The roles of men and women are different! The role of women is to sleep with me! The role of men is to not sleep with me!

Men! Keep up the good work! Women! ...Some room for improvement!

snerking at billytea

From GWW, a Spinal Tap moment, after Jilli confesses to some feelings of insecurity about getting her sample chapters off to her agent on time:

Typo Boy: A sustainability expert contracted to a publishing house is checking my book for validity RIGHT NOW. And I sent this out confident that I got every detail right. Guess how much of that confidence is left right now while I'm waiting for the verdict.

Topic!Cindy: This little freak out goes to negative 11?

In Bitches: (bedamned to context, much better without it)

Fay: In conclusion: let's make out.

erikaj: That's what people do with family. Or the Democratic party

Leif, via Gudanov: This weekend we went to Iowa for a wedding. Mid-wedding Leif pointed to the front and said in a loud whisper, "I think they are getting married!"

Yesterday in the grocery store he started yelling "100 pennies!" to everybody. Apparently he decided that this was how much he would cost to buy and was letting everyone know.

It's even funnier out of context:

ita: The armadillo has escaped! It's on the loose!

Alright, listen up, people. Our armadillo has been on the run for at least four hours. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is... nil. That gives us a radius of a few feet. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every crib, cradle, bed, pediatric unit, and changing table in that area. Checkpoints go up at every door. Your fugitive's name is not Edward Copernicus. Go get him.

ita, in Natter, in regards to the flea-let...

Alright, listen up, people. Our armadillo has been on the run for at least four hours. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is... nil. That gives us a radius of a few feet. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every crib, cradle, bed, pediatric unit, and changing table in that area. Checkpoints go up at every door. Your fugitive's name is not Edward Copernicus. Go get him.

inevitable x-post!

ChiKat in Natter:

Hmm....my office firewall blocks God. Figures.

Another typical day at work (in Bitches):

Polter-Cow: I want to cry and/or kill someone.

Jilli VoiceOfReason: Hey, I feel the same way! Quick, let's go get croquet mallets and play live-action Whack-a-Mole with our cow-orkers.

Jars: I'm fairly sure you can do both at the same time. Unless the tears are all clouding up your eyes, in which case I'd recommending getting your priorities in order and making with the murder.

Aimée: "Why do you need a vacation day?" "My foot fell off."

Jars: I usually just say I'm too hungover. God I love working in archaeology.

Fay: is, briefly, rendered speechless with envy. reminds self that she LIKES her job. continues to be speechless with envy.

Jars: Well, in fairness, your job doesn't result in sore necks, dodgy knees and wrists and chapped lips on a daily basis. Nope, it's just the archaeologists and the whores for that... we should so start a union