Stink-war:
Opening my front door for "fresh" Southern California air. Couldn't help but notice my neighbor must be cleaning as the scent of Lysol is POURING out his door.
it's now 30 minutes or so later... and the scent has clearly shifted. for the worse. How to say... it now smells shitty. Debating if it's worth the "fresh" air.
:: sigh ::
VW, mi español no es bien. Can't help with that one. And preachy papers, I think you wouldn't want my paper with your name on it. What's the math? I could do the transcribe. Ooo a paper on SSA! Only 1 page? Not enough to grind my axe with, but a start.
Good luck! Hope it's not all due tomorrow.
Hope it's not all due tomorrow.
Nope. Some tomorrow. Some Tuesday. I like to get things done early!
I just had somebody point out a mistake on my blog...I'm sure he doesn't have to take his viagra now. But I posted a correction and all that.
Sleeping black kittens are painfully cute. Especially when they're purring.
Aww. Take a picture! Then we can all see the cuteness, plus it's one of the photo scavenger hunt items this week!
Oh, kitty!
Hey, I'll do your Spanish homework if you'll grade about 30 tests! C'mon -- some of it's matching and multiple choice.
I just got back from a quick run to the drugstore, and it started POURING. LIghtning, thunder, the works. I'm pretty drenched.
Ah! IS that how the thread got its name?
Oh no. It came from a Spike quote:
Spike:
What do you know? It's your fault, the both of you! She belongs with me. I'm nothing without her.
Buffy:
That I'll have to agree with. You're pathetic, you know that? You're not even a loser anymore, you're a shell of a loser.
Spike:
Yeah. You're one to talk.
Buffy:
Meaning?
Spike:
The last time I looked in on you two, you were fighting to the death. Now you're back making googly-eyes at each other like nothing happened. Makes me want to heave.
Buffy:
I don't know what you're talking about.
Spike:
Oh, yeah. You're just friends.
Angel:
That's right.
Spike:
You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood...blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it.
excellent research Trudy. But the envious muttering when someone gets laid is funnier ;)
Anne, much peace to you and your mother.