Happy 1st Birthday to wee Dylan Zaphod!
wait, that Dylan is a year old? But I remember when he was born! I can't possibly have been posting on b.org for a year already. Whoa how time flies.
[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.
Happy 1st Birthday to wee Dylan Zaphod!
wait, that Dylan is a year old? But I remember when he was born! I can't possibly have been posting on b.org for a year already. Whoa how time flies.
Nicole, do you have a minute to jump on AIM?
you know how the crusty ends of the brownies are the best? check this out
Sure, vw. I'm graphic jayde on AIM. I think. It's been a while...
happy birthday Dylan
and happy birthday to Javachick
Zoo Director Johnny Martinez says workers had figured the monkeys would remain inside their enclosure during the cleaning despite the lack of water in the moat to act as a barricade.
It strikes me that "figuring they'll remain inside" is probably not considered best practice when it comes to zoo keeping.
Now I'm remembering that peacock that escaped the Moscow zoo after getting in a dispute with the other birds when I was over there a few years back. I wonder if I can still find the story.
I like how the monkey was on a speed boat when they captured him. I'm getting a very Curious George vibe.
Okay, the icky gastrointestinal stuff from the other night (because I know you all live for updates on the workings of my intestines) is no longer frequent trips to the WC; it's just crippling horrible abdominal pain.
I think it's your basic gastroenteritis, which -- for fuck's sake, man! I don't have TIME for this! So I'm just drinking fizzy water alternated with Gatorade, and eating whatever sounds appealing to my churning insides (which, so far, is Velveeta Shells & Cheese and also scrambled eggs).
I'm annoyed at my guts, because The Boy is up at the Pride festival, which is at the park in our neighborhood, because our neighborhood FUCKING ROCKS like that, but there's no way I could trail around behind him what with the doubling over, grabbing my stomach, and howling in pain. Although it's possible that such behavior on my part could be interpreted as sheer appreciation for his ability to walk in heels (he left the house in a long-sleeved knit shirt, boobs, leather pants, and high-heeled boots, all black; so, subtle, but CD).
And I'm on the couch in a bathrobe wondering if I can eat a bagel without barfing. My life rocks, I tell you what.
Poor Teppy. I hope this clears up soon.