In Bitches, discussing the escalating absurdity of shiny ring exchanges, especially the idiotic (but profitable for the DeBeers family) promise ring (edited to remove the actual thoughtful discussion, leaving only the snark):
tommyrot:
Hmm... Now I wanna buy a "Promise to Give You a Promise Ring Ring."
WindSparrow:
How about a "Promise Promise Promise Aw Heck The Word Has Lost All Meaning Ring"?
tommyrot:
Yeah. How about an "I Like You. Plus the Boinking is Nice" ring? Or maybe a "I think I love you so what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for" ring?
omnis_audis:
"I Like You. Plus the Boinking is Nice" ring?
aren't those called "cockrings" ?
in Natter.
the set-up:
Dana - In case anyone is worried, Michael Vick has found Jesus.
Tom Scola - You're supposed to go into rehab first, then find Jesus. He skipped a step.
the knock outta the park:
Vortex - he said "no, no, no"
Natter, wherein the Buffistas are ever-so-helpful:
Cashmere:
*sigh* Owen's wearing a pair of Olivia's swimsuit bottoms around on his head. The question is whether I should take a picture for teenage blackmail later.
sarameg:
There's a question?
amych:
No, I think the real question is "is the camera charged and within reach"?
Vortex:
sits next to sarameg, offers to set up tripod
Toddson:
Holds lights to make sure it comes out clearly
shrift:
Or perhaps, "Why haven't you taken the picture and posted it on the internet for our collective amusement yet?"
Ginger, on preparing to travel:
When I start worrying whether if I have everything, I use the mantra, "You're not going to darkest Africa. You can buy underwear where you're going."
Matt, finding a single word to describe the ouvre of Tim Minear in Minearverse:
Traumedy.
Trying to consense a thread title in Bureau:
Robin:
Procedural 1: You Have the Right To Remain Silent
JenP:
Ha! As if.
Aimee, in Bitches, on living with the princess:
While priming the dining room last night, Joe accidentally stepped on Em's dinosaur and smashed it to bits. He valiantly tried to get it into the garbage before she noticed.
Not so much.
For the next half hour, we were treated to a barrage of, "You broke my dinosaur! HEY! You broke my dinosaur! You broke my dinosaur!"
Finally I snapped and said, "Em. Daddy said he was sorry. We will get you a new dinosaur. That dinosaur is dead. Everything dies. Get over it." (I was verry tired and cranky.)
Joe says, "You're using a broken dinosaur to teach her about death? I thought we'd wait for a hamster or a goldfish."
"You want to listen to a half-hour of 'You broke my goldfish'?" I ask him.
He's about to respond when Em bursts back into the room.
"YOU BROKE MY GOLDFISH!! HEY! YOU BROKE MY GOLDFISH!!"
Zenkitty's social commentary on the above incident:
Poor Em's dinosaur. Such an ignoble demise. Crushed under the heel of the patriarchy.
