Ooh, I have to add a Thing I Want, because I just stubbed my toe on the big plastic storage box under the bed. Again.
- I want to -- finally -- organize the twenty years' worth of pictures I've taken into albums.
Spike ,'Get It Done'
[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.
Ooh, I have to add a Thing I Want, because I just stubbed my toe on the big plastic storage box under the bed. Again.
I want:
I want:
Another example of my Big Dorkiness: I have that iGoogle theme with the little fox who lives in the gazebo. Right now, he's doing laundry. I'm doing laundry. I'm all pleased to be in sync with the fox made of pixels, because he seems to have a pretty good life.
I want
Hey Hec and JZ - Jennifer T is in Games mag this month about women-only game competitions. Apparently her win in 2005 dramatically raised the number of female competitors.
I want (like libkitty and others, I couldn't pare it down to three):
Concerning fleeing children, I never really did that, but my youngest brother sure did. If my mother was lucky she'd just find him out front of the house, dancing naked on the hood of their car. Otherwise she would likely have a trail of clothes to follow to the local shopping centre, where she'd find him (naked) sitting on one of those coin-operated kiddie rides. It was about 50/50 that someone would've started it for him.
Of course, just to inject a little variety, there was the time when he decided to play postman, with our mother's purse. He wandered down our street, taking everyone's mail and leaving one of M's cards (credit, bank, driver's licence, whatever) in its place. Which of course led to M having to retrace his steps to change everything back, hoping desperately that no one was going to see her rifling through their mail.
The most hair-raising occasion was when he disappeared with the lawnmower. He was gone a couple of hours, they'd called the police, and he shows up at the front door (naked and grinning) riding a haggard-looking bus driver who had abandoned his entire bus of passengers to go door-knocking and return him to his rightful owners.
We never did see the lawnmower again.
Is this a riding mower or push?
I don't want to know what it says about me that that is the question I have after that story.
champagne, a cupcake and a pony. I'd happily settle for just the cupcake, though
See, now this is doable.
::rolls up sleeves to start baking::
I think I also want to look like Diane Lane. That's not a problem, is it?
::goes back to envying, and lusting after, her legs during the windswept beginning of Unfaithful::