Both. Either way, it's hours of enjoyment for us.
And Kristin, you misspelled "trading stories of Pete Pete-ing while playing Burnout."
Jenny ,'Bring On The Night'
[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.
Both. Either way, it's hours of enjoyment for us.
And Kristin, you misspelled "trading stories of Pete Pete-ing while playing Burnout."
Huh. I thought you were trading stories of Pete-ing while playing Burnout.
Well, there's only a handful of those. The last one ends with "...and then Jilli totally womped the crap out of him at Burnout and we laughed until we puked."
For those who have never played Burnout, it's this utterly sadistic game in which you try to cause as much damage as possible by causing spectacular traffic accidents. (Since there are no people and no blood--you only see cars flipping through the air and such--it reminds me a bit of gleefully knocking your sibling's blocks over as a kid.)
Anyway, Jilli hates video games, but she had great gothy glee with this one. Explosions fun! She may have been cackling as she rammed into the semi trucks.
...and Pete kept managing to miss everything and not cause any damage at all. Which, after the sixth or seventh time, we dubbed "a Pete." It's been over a year, and we're still using it as both noun ("That was a total Pete!") and verb ("You Peted!") much to Pete's chagrin.
Luckily, he gets it out of his system by fragging the heck out of everyone in Halo 2.
Humph on Burnout. I am clearly too good a driver for it.
You all still need to be fragged. Now more than ever you bunch of impudent urchins.
ION, 300! This weekend!
I am clearly too good a driver for it.
So you intentionally failed to hit anything, then?
So you intentionally failed to hit anything, then?
Intentionally? No. But my mad driving skillz kicked in at a subconscious level ensuring no vehicular damage.
But my mad driving skillz kicked in at a subconscious level
So you drive on autopilot?
So I'm home and want to take a nap, but I can't because I'm waiting for the results of my sleep study. Now that, Alanis, is ironic.
So you drive on autopilot?
Diagnosis: Smartassery
Prescription: Major Fraggitude.
Oh dear. The next door neighbor is apparently rediscovering his love of the guitar via random riffs of bad 80's metal bands. Help me.