Mal ,'The Train Job'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Ruse or not it is still a bone chilling sixty degrees here.
Okay, the list of People Who Need To Have Their Fucking Teeth Knocked Down Their Throat is, to date:
SeanK
ND
Now, this is just in relation to temperature and people I know. I have a whole other giant list for people I don't personally know and other reasons for teeth-down-throat-knockage.
Now, I just need a couple thousand dollars to pack up my family and move them to California.
Well here in NonCrazyLand, it is a balmy 45. And raining.
That funding can be arranged MM.
PS. Brrrrrrrrrrr
Dude, if that was all it would take, we'd start a Bring the Miracleborns Home pot and you'd be here in a matter of months. IJS.
That funding can be arranged MM.
Plus an extra couple of bucks for a crowbar with which I will knock your teeth down your fucking throat.
I can maybe start the pot with some seed money by selling my winter clothing...
Oh no. I'm frighted by the scary idle threats from the mostly frozen man.
Oh no. I frighted by the scrary idle threats from the mostly frozen man.
I will thaw, sir. Someday...I will thaw.
That funding can be arranged MM.
I'm in for at least $50 if it means MM can deliver a beating on my behalf.
It's like a telethon!
It's like a telethon!
Call the toll-free number on the bottom of the screen to reserve YOUR exclusive smackdown! Joe's arm is getting tired, so call now!
In other news...
Phone: Happy Monday. *ring*
Me: You know what would be great? If you were a toaster oven.
Phone: Man, don't I wish. Quiet life, nice and warm, the constant smell of cinammon buns or whatever...mmm...*ring*
Me: Man. Now I'm hungry.
Phone: Lunch is over. Didn't you eat enough? *ring*
Me: I thought I did...
Phone: Interesting. Look, you gonna answer me or what? *ring*
Me: I was hoping somebody else would get it.
Phone: Well, they're not. *ring*
Me: Fuckin' Monday...
FuckCake O' the Day: Hi, I'm FCO'tD from Blah Blah Company. Your fax machine is broken.
Me: It is? But we've been getting faxes all day.
FCO'tD: I don't think you have. I've been trying to fax you something for two days and all I get when I call is a recording and hold music.
Me: Huh. Let me check...no, we're getting a fax right now. (AIFG!)
FCO'tD: No, you're not. I get a recording. And muzac.
Me: No, seriously, we're getting a fax right this second.
FCO'tD: Whatever. I can't get through.
Me: Are you dialing (area code)-(number)?
FCO'tD: Yes! Duh! Here, I'll fax right now. Hang on.
Me: ...okay...
FCO'tD: (dialing of fax machine sound effects) (hum of paper feeding through fax machine) Nope. I'm getting the same recording.
Me: I don't know what to tell you. I've got a stack of faxes from other people that came in just a few minutes ago right here...
FCO'tD: Whatever! I just called to let you know. Maybe if somebody else calls, you'll believe them! *click*
Me: And happy fucking Monday to you, too.
Phone: God, she was a bitch. *dial tone*