I like beer. And mojitos.
I like pina coladas.
But I hate getting caught in the rain.
Wash: I'm not leaving her side, Mal. Don't ask me again. Mal: I wasn't asking. I was telling.
'Out Of Gas'
Spike's Bitches 34: They're All Slime and Antlers
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Steph L. - Feb 06, 2007 7:26:01 am PST #4278 of 10001
this mess was yours / now your mess is mine
Daisy Jane - Feb 06, 2007 7:27:11 am PST #4279 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
I really dislike the taste of anise. So much so that I have wiped my tounge with my t-shirt after a shot of Sambuca or drinking absinthe. Jager tastes like NyQuil, not anise.
P.M. Marc - Feb 06, 2007 7:28:45 am PST #4280 of 10001
So come, my friends, be not afraid/We are so lightly here/It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear
I hate Jager. Unless it is frozen. It tastes like artificial cherries to me.
And, really, I only did the frozen Jager once. Which was enough.
Frankenbuddha - Feb 06, 2007 7:42:15 am PST #4281 of 10001
"We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town...Beep! Beep!" - David Bowie, "Fashion"
I like both Jager and Chartreuse. Both of which, in my head, I know taste like ass.
Which, of course, begs the question: a lot like ass, or a little like ass?
Which of course begs a followup question...
Scrappy - Feb 06, 2007 7:42:20 am PST #4282 of 10001
Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
Hey, where's Betsy lately?
§ ita § - Feb 06, 2007 7:44:34 am PST #4283 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
Work thing, I think, Robin.
SuziQ - Feb 06, 2007 7:45:15 am PST #4284 of 10001
Back tattoos of the mother is that you are absolutely right - Ame
And Tony the bartender.
Ooooh, he is quite yummy.
Daisy Jane - Feb 06, 2007 7:56:53 am PST #4285 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
Well, I'm aware that NyQuil is not yummy yummy, and while I have never tasted grass clippings gone bad, I don't imagine it would be good. You may rate cough medicine and rancid grass wherever you wish on the ass scale, units of measure are assigned by how many days old that particular ass is.
Beverly - Feb 06, 2007 7:59:45 am PST #4286 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Mom got me up before 6 tapping on the wall (there's a buzzer. She forgets to use it). When I got downstairs, she was sitting in the bathroom. She looked at me like she had no idea who I was. "Are there beds here?" What? "Do they have beds here? Bedrooms." Mom, you're at home. I could see the click as she reconnected with reality. "Well, I was someplace else before I was here." She was either dreaming or hallucinating. Usually her hallucinations are auditory. She's deaf, but she swears the radio is on and she can't turn it off or change the station. She still hears it even when we show her the plug out of the socket. But she doesn't usually dislocate from her surroundings.
I got her back to bed and tucked in. DH left this morning. You all have NO idea how much I wanted to just fling myself into the van and go with him.
My relatives all have instructions, should I ever reach her state, to lovingly, kindly, with all gentle regard, push me down the stairs. Repeatedly, if necessary.
Oddly, I seem to have stopped drinking almost completely.
Nora Deirdre - Feb 06, 2007 8:02:35 am PST #4287 of 10001
I’m responsible for my own happiness? I can’t even be responsible for my own breakfast! (Bojack Horseman)
oh, Bev. I'm sorry.