Burrell's take on the Groping at Con fiasco:

I don't need to go to a con to get my boobs groped in a purely platonic, yet annoyingly needy, way. I have kids.

Cass was killin' before killin' was cool

SuziQ: Now my brain has a whole bunch of "You might be a cougar if....." type lines bouncing around.

You might be a cougar if you are old enough to have once babysat your date.

You might be a cougar if your date is younger than your child.

You might be a cougar if your car is older than your date.

Cass: Hey, when it comes to cars? I have standards.

****

shrift: Kids these days. Why can't I kill them, again?

Cass: It's mostly semantic, really...

Quantum dairy, from Natter:

Hil R.: OK, wikipedia suggests that what I know as farmer's cheese might be the same thing as quark (I've tried quark, and it is pretty similar), which is sold in Canada as baker's cheese.

Frankenbuddha: I prefer strangeness and charm cheese to quark, personally.

Steph L.: The problem is, the grocer SAYS it's in the dairy case, but you can never find it.... t

Jessica: I believe the solution is to throw a pint of heavy cream really hard into the rest of the items in the case...

Jessica in Bitches:

Given the name, I feel I should be using my Bush Stimulus Package to buy a vibrator.

lisah in Natter:

I want someone to put me in a carseat and drive somewhere so I could take a nap.

Too bad my ass is too big.

JZ crushes out on Flannery O'Connor, in Literary:

She managed to write some memorably, spectacularly miserable characters, but Flannery herself wasn't miserable. I read all 700-some odd pages of her collected letters, and she really does come across as a Buffista before Buffistas were: snarky, sly, occasionally outright goofy, and equally capable of being mockingly delighted by the awfulness of kitsch and moved by the emotion behind it; full of geeky passions and delights; interested in the world outside her town and the universe inside her own mind. Sometimes a little terse when the lupus was excruciating, but often darkly witty even then.

Eloquent as Nutty and ita combined in her cold dissection of lousy writing and lazy logic; as simultaneously passionate and wry as Cindy writing about her faith; as irritated by, occasionally resentful of her dependency on, and kindred-spirit snarkily proud and loving of her mother as erika; tender in her notation of the green and growing and fruiting products of her land as Betsy; fiendish as MM in her elaborate scorn of hypocrites and monstrous fools; loyal to her friends as any Buffista, willing to sprint around the world for them when she couldn't walk to her own front door. And able to deliver a biting, delicious quip while she was at it.

For someone with one fuck of a lot to be miserable about, O'Connor was somehow really not so miserable at all.

Strega: My sloth interferes with my drunkenness. It's sad.

from Gaming (edited for comedy effect... is that OK?)

Pete, Husband of Jilli:

The fact they fit all this on a standard DVD is a masterpiece of coding.

Frankenbuddha:

They probably used black magic.

OMG when you die in the game you die for REALS!!!!!

Jilli VoiceOfReason:

Y'know, I hadn't planned on having to bring my husband back as a zombie for a long time. I don't have any of the supplies on hand.

Frankenbuddha:

Who knows - the game might take care of that for you.

Jessica:

"Continue?"

Jilli VoiceOfReason:

Pffft. I don't believe in trusting the reanimation of the dead to game developers I don't know.

Strega: My sloth interferes with my drunkenness. It's sad.

Her sloth? She's full of slith.

in natter:

bon bon: My mom just forwarded me Lolcats. Time it everyone! That's one year for a trend to start on the internets, and get to moms!

Jesse: bon bon, was the email amusing enough for Postcards From Your Momma? Then the internet would swallow itself.