DJ in Boxed Set:

It's kind of a corallary of the rubber glove! AIFG! phenomenon (mah-nah-mah-nah sorry ).

Buffista A: You know one might surmise that it's just us northern buffistas who like to wear rubber gloves and pretend we're chickens.

Buffista B: No! I grew up in West Bumfuck Alabama and me and my cousins would do that all the time!

De-lurker: Delurking to say, I'm from Azerbijan and we have a cult of rubber glove wearers.

Buffista A: Huh.

In Bitches, Miracleman and Aimee, on protecting the home against intruders --

Miracleman: My shinai should be somewhere about, or my kali sticks, should you decide you need to whomp intruders. My sword is also under the bed, if you need that.

Aimee: rolls eyes

If I need to whomp an intruder, I damn well don't want to have to roll my agility for it.

We need a gun.

Teppy In Lit'ry

Harry and Voldemort are appearing in a musical, and the curtains are just theatre curtains.

I mean, look at them. Those are CLEARLY musical theatre poses. (Voldemort is more or less doing the Stop! In The Name of Love pose, and Harry kind of has an Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin' thing going on there. What? Look at the cover again -- there's CLEARLY a bright golden haze on the hallows.)

sarameg in Natter:

I hate FedEx. They keep insisting a postal code in India doesn't exist. Despite the fact that it's listed on the city's municipal site. And they won't even consider they might be wrong.

They did this to me over a medium sized city in the Ukraine once.

In Bitches:

Juliana:

Good morning, Bitches. I would like to announce that not only am I wear the cranky pants, I am also wearing the bitchy shirt and the "fuck all y'all" jacket. Please refer to me for all your misanthropic needs today - I am not up to Empress-levels of smiting, but I can sure as hell turn a good glower and sneer upon many people today.

Miracleman:

Seems to be going around. I myself have the full complement of Cranky Pants, Bite Me t-shirt and I think I may have inadvertently put on the underwear of You Suck, the socks of Seriously, How Has Someone Not Killed You? and the boots of JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WILL YOU SIMPLY CEASE TO EXIST ALREADY AND DO THE UNIVERSE A FUCKING FAVOR?

Steph L:

How about the shoes of "I am going to fuck you UP, motherfucker"?

Juliana:

It's the Boots of "Do NOT Fucking Talk To Me, Lest Your Head Be Permanently Lodged Up Your Ass", actually.

Topic!Cindy:

I can't get anything in the suburbs.

Erin writes an eloquent occupational manifesto in Bitches:

I'm tired of being looked down on by students and American society in general for being a teacher. The educational system may fail some students, by and large, most teachers don't. I chose this job; I didn't "fall back" on it, and I'm fucking smart; I could indeed being making more money as a lawyer or a doctor but I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT. I spend more time with more kids than most parents.

I impart morals; I teach ethics; I encourage free thinking and reading and tolerance and joy and creativity, and I hold students to high standards. Kids have my phone number, I make sure they have food; I celebrate their lives with them, and and am like a big sister and an aunt and a strong female role model for boys and girls alike.

I do not deserve ANYONE'S scorn.

I love Erin. That made me go back and search out her teacher-as-high-roller drabble that I love so much. I've been meaning to print it out and hang it, and I just did so.

Shrift in Natter: I woke up psychotic this morning. I hate it when that happens.

In Bitches, where the weekend's accomplishments have been enumerated, and Polter-Cow is in training for a marathon, so has been running quite a bit.

MiracleMan:

What'd you do to make someone chase you twelve miles?

Polter-Cow:

My mom caught me with a white Caucasian she-devil.

Aimee, in Bitches: This should not, in the future, translate into SEX DREAMS about PRINCE EFFING CHARLES.

Vortex: Was he your tampon?