Hec, you note that page says:

We don't know when or if this item will be back in stock.

I've had an ebay alert on her forever. Hasn't pinged. I hate to think of how much she'd cost when she does. Hell, I'm stunned I have three of the five (Daniel and Morpheus are a twofer) bought at retail prices. They cuddle with Hello Kitty, who's wearing pink bunny ears.

Really, my NSYNC puppet isn't going to be scaring anyone off. They're not going to get that far.

We don't know when or if this item will be back in stock.

I said it was out there. I didn't say you could have it.

Hell, I'm stunned I have three of the five (Daniel and Morpheus are a twofer) bought at retail prices.

Go to the San Diego Comic Con seller's room. I bet it's there for a reasonable price.

I'm going to be alone FOREVER.

We could clone Pete for you? Because hell, in addition to the assorted Nightmare Before Christmas, Sandman, and Disney stuff we've got around the house, we've got a life-size bust of a Predator in the living room.

I have a VERTEBRA in a shadow box hanging on the wall. I guess that's less geeky, more creepy. But still.

I have a sternum next to my Justice League cars at the base of my TV. Doesn't even have a shadow box. It's just lying there.

Connie, my sword is in the bedroom on the other side of the bed from the Legolas knives.

Ooh, I wonder where Dread Pirate Roberts' sword will go. It comes with wall mounting.

ANYONE can.

I dunno, Steph. You're a miracle.

How about the wall clock?

It's hard to play house with a wall clock, though.

Well, of course, it's elf made.

It doesn't glow, though. Which could just mean that, despite the membership of my meatspace friend list, no orcs have been in my living room.

ANYONE can.

I dunno, Steph. You're a miracle.

I *really* am.

(Sorry, this is a likes-carrots moment, but it's salient to this conversation.)

The other night The Boy said to me, "Thank you for loving me despite all my issues." Which I thought was totally sweet and I responded in kind and then zonked.

The next day, I told him that his issues aren't as bad as he fears, blah blah ADD-cakes. (I assumed he meant his issues with his ADD.)

He said, "Oh, no -- I meant the kinky stuff!"

Me: "What? Why would you think I'd EVER have a problem with that? You DO remember where I met you, right?"

Him: "Well, sometimes people get tired of it and then just think it's weird."

Me: "Oh no, there is NO WAY you can even THINK you're weirder than me! Just stop right now!"

Which could just mean that, despite the membership of my meatspace friend list, no orcs have been in my living room.

See? But that could ease your mind on a Friday night.

Me: "Oh no, there is NO WAY you can even THINK you're weirder than me! Just stop right now!"

Ahhh, L'amour Fou!

despite the membership of my meatspace friend list, no orcs have been in my living room.

A local environmental organization wants people to write letters to stop a landfill's expansion; one of the problems with the landfill as it currently exists is that it has a 10-ACRE underground fire that's been burning for 9 months.

The Boy: "What do you think is going on down there?"

Me: "Birthing orcs."