Am I overreacting?
Honey, I am clutching my pearls right with you.
And I even have pearls today to clutch.
Give me a moment...and they're clutched.
Most people is pretty quiet right about now. Me, I see a stiff -- one I didn't have to kill myself -- I just get, the urge to, you know, do stuff. Like work out, run around, maybe get some trim if there's a willin' woman about... not that I get flush from corpses or anything. I ain't crazy.
Jayne ,'The Message'
Natter 65: Speed Limit Enforced by Aircraft
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, pandas, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
§ ita § - Apr 27, 2010 11:18:46 am PDT #25529 of 30001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
Amy - Apr 27, 2010 11:20:02 am PDT #25530 of 30001
Because books.
I missed the whole Boobquake thing somehow. What were you supposed to do for it?
Sophia Brooks - Apr 27, 2010 11:20:23 am PDT #25531 of 30001
Cats to become a rabbit should gather immediately now here
Atropa - Apr 27, 2010 11:20:50 am PDT #25532 of 30001
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.
Honey, I am clutching my pearls right with you.
Would that I wore my pearls today. Instead I clutched my watch pendant necklace and said, "Oh, I worked at home with a migraine yesterday".
Strix - Apr 27, 2010 11:21:34 am PDT #25533 of 30001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Reasons why I am not a teacher-- I feel that most people who think critically will end up agreeing with me.
Secretly? I do, too. It's my critical thinking shame. Woe!
DUDE. RANDOM MALE CO-WORKERS I DON'T REALLY KNOW SHOULD NOT ASK ME IF I PARTICIPATED IN BOOBQUAKE. I feel vaguely oogie now. Am I overreacting?
Er, no. Unless you have an very friendly and open relationship with the male co-worker in question.
Go, checklist ita! I have washed dishes, made the bed, and researched ING Direct accounts, as D's workplace retirement account does not match.
Does anyone have advice on that front? I don't have a retirement account (medical bills cleaned mine out -- I know, I know, but I had to eat and have a place to live, yo) and neither does D. I'm thinking the ING account to start an ER fund, but I dunno if there are better options for a retirement fund, and if we should create separate ones.
My practical/feminist heart says yes, but OTOH, if we both track our contributions, if we did a joint account, we would have more cash in there to collect interest.
Thoughts, O my wise ones?
Daisy Jane - Apr 27, 2010 11:21:56 am PDT #25534 of 30001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."
DUDE. RANDOM MALE CO-WORKERS I DON'T REALLY KNOW SHOULD NOT ASK ME IF I PARTICIPATED IN BOOBQUAKE. I feel vaguely oogie now. Am I overreacting?
No. No, you are not. I liked it as an exercise in "Look, let me show you how it does. not. work. like. that." But then boys started paying attention and it got all icky.
§ ita § - Apr 27, 2010 11:23:41 am PDT #25535 of 30001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
I missed the whole Boobquake thing somehow. What were you supposed to do for it?
You were supposed to show cleavage in order to provoke an earthquake as that Iranian cleric had suggested female licentiousness was contributing to instability of the earth's crust.
I forgot. Also? Hello. Workplace.
Burrell - Apr 27, 2010 11:24:29 am PDT #25536 of 30001
Why did Darth Vader cross the road? To get to the Dark Side!
Ugh, Jilli. I do not understand people.
I am done with the huge project o'doom I was working on. Now... to TJs!
Atropa - Apr 27, 2010 11:24:37 am PDT #25537 of 30001
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.
No. No, you are not. I liked it as an exercise in "Look, let me show you how it does. not. work. like. that." But then boys started paying attention and it got all icky.
Yes, yes exactly!
Amy, Boobquake.
(I'm sure this will be an x-post.)
Amy - Apr 27, 2010 11:25:59 am PDT #25538 of 30001
Because books.
I hate it when boys are icky like that.
I showed my cleavage. To my husband, and all accidentally, but still. Go me?