The firecracker, I flushed down the toilet. Unlit.no fun.
Riley ,'Lessons'
[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.
The firecracker, I flushed down the toilet. Unlit.no fun.
I get that a lot. Only from teenagers!
I wouldn't have survived high school without advil in my purse, and at least one of my teachers who also got headaches a lot knew who also had headache meds if she was out of them. Freshman year a couple of idiot alumi decided to burn down our school we lost one building and the chem lab had some chemicals burn. Even after a thorough clean up, many of us got headaches all the time until graduation.
Having a rescue inhaler not on your person makes no sense to me .
Edited to make my words make more sense.
The idea of a kid having to get the teacher's attention, the teacher has to write a note, then the kid has to go to the nurse in order to use an inhaler is patently ridiculous!
Bug-free~ma, Erin! Lice were one of the biggest problems they had when I was in boot camp. It seemed like every couple weeks 3 or 4 girls would get them. It was a nasty cycle, 80 girls to a unit, so it didn't take much to get rid of them and get them right back. Fortunately, I was never so afflicted.
I am so happy I graduated in '75. There were practically no rules, we had an open campus policy, and the drinking age was 18. It was the best of times.
I need to flail a little. I joined match.com a week ago. I e-mailed somebody. He replied! He's articulate, literate, and got my Doctor Who reference in the last line of my profile. Eep! Now I'm all nervous about keeping the ball going! ::flail::
I need to flail a little. I joined match.com a week ago. I e-mailed somebody. He replied! He's articulate, literate, and got my Doctor Who reference in the last line of my profile. Eep! Now I'm all nervous about keeping the ball going! ::flail::
Sail is made of WIN and Mr. Man realized it! A gentleman of good and discerning taste, says I.
Yay, Sail!! Roll that ball back!
Yay, Sail!
Roll that ball back!
I hope this is a metaphor.
(I'm editing an article right now -- with COLOR PICTURES -- that is titled "Cocaine-Related Vasculitis Causing SCROTUM GANGRENE." [The capital letters are mine.] Dude, forget the whole "This is your brain; this is your brain on drugs," crack the egg PSA. I tell you what, I think saying, "Guys: do you like your balls? Do you want them to ROT AND FALL OFF? Then don't smoke crack!!!" is a way way WAY more effective PSA.)
(I am SO not kidding. The pictures -- did I mention, COLOR??? -- are nasty.)
Crack is wack, kiddies.
I'm overcaffinated today, so I don't dare try to write back tonight. It will have to wait for tomorrow. When I can spell two words in a row without a typo. You don't want to know how many backspaces I've been through just to type this.