Sometimes I sing the duck song when I can't sleep. You know, "Five little ducks went out one day. Over the hills and far away. Mother duck said 'Quack quack quak quack' but only four little ducks came back." Except I start at 100 ducks, like Ezra intended. On my worst nights I don't remember getting past 60 something.
Sometimes I miss having powers... Oh. Oh! I know what this is! This is peer pressure! Any second now you're gonna make me smoke tobacco and--and have drugs!
Anya ,'Showtime'
Natter Five-O: Book 'Em, Danno.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Daisy Jane - Mar 28, 2007 3:54:42 pm PDT #9390 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
brenda m - Mar 28, 2007 3:55:44 pm PDT #9391 of 10001
If you're going through hell/keep on going/don't slow down/keep your fear from showing/you might be gone/'fore the devil even knows you're there
You know, "Five little ducks went out one day. Over the hills and far away. Mother duck said 'Quack quack quak quack' but only four little ducks came back."
And then you start crying and fall asleep from emotional exhaustion over the poor lost little ducklings?
Zenkitty - Mar 28, 2007 3:57:53 pm PDT #9392 of 10001
Every now and then, I think I might actually be a little odd.
Damn, Nutty, you too? That does verily suck.
Daisy Jane, just reading the duck song is putting me to sleep. You were good in your movie, and also pretty.
- yawn*
Would you learned folks happen to know any Shakespearean (or earlier) slang terms for a gay or effeminate man?
tommyrot - Mar 28, 2007 3:58:20 pm PDT #9393 of 10001
Sir, it's not an offence to let your cat eat your bacon. Okay? And we don't arrest cats, I'm very sorry.
Or maybe you think, "Gee, I wonder if hunters got the ducks? Mmmmm.... duck...."
Daisy Jane - Mar 28, 2007 3:58:50 pm PDT #9394 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
Well, in the end you quack really loudly and all the little ducks come back. Clearly you have never seen the wonder that is Trout Fishing in America.
tommyrot - Mar 28, 2007 3:59:38 pm PDT #9395 of 10001
Sir, it's not an offence to let your cat eat your bacon. Okay? And we don't arrest cats, I'm very sorry.
Would you learned folks happen to know any Shakespearean (or earlier) slang terms for a gay or effeminate man?
Yorick?
(sorry)
brenda m - Mar 28, 2007 4:00:24 pm PDT #9396 of 10001
If you're going through hell/keep on going/don't slow down/keep your fear from showing/you might be gone/'fore the devil even knows you're there
Well, in the end you quack really loudly and all the little ducks come back.
Sure they do, if you stay awake.
Cashmere - Mar 28, 2007 4:01:14 pm PDT #9397 of 10001
Now tagless for your comfort.
Zenkitty, from Wikipedia:
In Elizabethan slang, a Fantastic was a rake; an "effeminate fool" or "improvident young gallant".[citation needed] The character Lucio in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure is described in the Dramatis Personae as a Fantastic.
sarameg - Mar 28, 2007 4:01:19 pm PDT #9398 of 10001
I just make up stories. Elaborate, sometimes faux-autobiographical ones.
I usually crash before I get any satisfying conclusion. Either that, or, in my insomnia days, working myself into a hysterical why is this not my life?!!! state.
Which wasn't so useful.
I've been tetchy all evening. Well, all day. I know why, but it's really inconsequential in the large scheme of things. Basically, I've called everyone I can call...wait...I haven't! (gonna get offline!) checked the internets incessantly, dusted, mopped, smoked too much, drank more than is reasonable, rearranged shit....
Funny, how I can torture myself not opening gifts for weeks, but reality? Is basically pins and needles and fear.
Cashmere - Mar 28, 2007 4:02:49 pm PDT #9399 of 10001
Now tagless for your comfort.