OMG, that last post made me almost nose water. Guess the thread is well named indeed, beverage choices aside.
ETA seriously - I'm still laughing at this (having missed it in thread) 5 minutes later. I fear I will scare my cow-orkers when I come across it in thread tomorrow.
In Natter 63, following mention of kosher salt and Christian salt.
I want FSM salt. Blessed by a pirate.
Steph and the Boy deal with her severe toothache:
Me: "Oh god, I can't eat anything because it hurts!"
The Boy: "Not even peanut butter from the jar?"
Me: [running to kitchen] "I love you more than Batman right now!"
(As I was rummaging in the pantry to find the peanut butter, I heard from the dining room, "Right NOW?!?" Heh.)
a ref four-fecta, from Bitches--
connie neil: This Means Something! Especially since I found it while doing research on an X-Files/Supernatural crossover fic.
Cue the Twilight Zone theme.
WRT the Wii Fit:
yeah, I also got the "too busy to work out yesterday, eh?" I shot back, "No, YOU were, fighting nazis and killing zombies with D."
My dog apparently ate a couple of ounces of weeds and then threw them up this afternoon.
...I read this as ate WEED. And I was like "well, someone's open about her pot habit...and surprisingly not so upset about the amount the dog went through, that's expensive, isn't it?"
Me too, meara. Me too.
It's nice that people think my life is more exciting than it is. I guess it would really be alarming if he ate pot-laced brownies with chocolate chips in them.
When I was growing up, the neighbor across the back way was, um...unsubtle about his weed habit. And by that I mean he had a four or five foot plant growing next to his back stoop.
One day the family got a black lab mix puppy. Cute widdle guy, just tiny when they got him.
And that tiny widdle guy ate the whole weed plant.
Owner guy was very upset about the loss of his plant. Owner lady was very upset that her widdle puppy might die.
Widdle puppy was one very happy puppy. For three whole days. He just lay there and, like, wagged his tail, and probably thought: Dude. What if "Dog" was spelled G-O-D. You know, man?
"Look at the size of my PAWS!"
"What's that thing waving around at the base of my spine? Wait, it's ATTACHED?"
"Man, I've got to get me some Snausages, like, now!"
Yeah, but that differs from a dog's normal day how?
In Bitches, on the topic of small children's bad dreams, Trudy Booth sets it up:
I guess that's how the sleeping brain expresses anxiety before you've gone to High School.
Miracleman knocks it down:
...and after you've gone, the anxiety is expressed as...bad poetry and poor fashion decisions.
Cass, discovering that the cilantro hate starts early:
Was grabbing a quick dinner tonight with P and the no-longer-baby-because-she's-nearly-three and she was happily nom nom nomming guacamole until her face just had a look of betrayal and she stuck out her tongue. With a piece of cilantro on it. It was like 1 out of ten Buffista arguments, right there. She, it seems, is nay on cilantro. I did not ask if it tasted like soap because ... well, because not laughing was the most I could really manage apart from taking the icky cilantro away.