Buffybot ,'Dirty Girls'
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.
Yikes, ita. I'm so glad he's okay.
My father used to do the same thing when it came to my mom's health until my brother and I put our collective foot down. No more calling when she'd already been in the hospital for three days, and it wasn't looking good. Argh.
Go, sara! What fantastic work. I'm really really sure I wouldn't have the patience or persistence to tackle that project.
How old is your dad going to be?
::does furious math:: 73. Whoa. Time is flying.
My sister and I might have covered every topic under the sun and gay sex twice, including the tropical storm that cut off power and water to their homes and the family death, but the thing with the GUNS didn't come up. Then I called home and yelled at my mother ("Fucking armed robbery, seriously?" was my opener), who told me to call my father's cell. He said he would have told me when I came home at Christmas.
PEOPLE!
Well, once I was living with this: [link] , it was all or nothing. And nothing annoyed the everlovingFUCK out of me, so. Keep in mind, that was July 10 or so. I bought stripper with my birthday dinner money. I've since spent $100+ on it. And probably spend that much more. And possibly another 3 months.
Holy shitballs, ita.
Yes. Shitballs indeed.
Apparently it's my place to assure people threatened with guns that they did the right thing. Because I'm the threatened with guns expert in the family. I'm not sure that's what they bargained on when they sent me off to school. But Daddy did just what he was supposed to do. Even if he wondered if I'd have done the same thing.
Which I would have. Just as well, because there was a second gunman in the back.
Damn, ita. Just, damn.
Jeebus. That's fucking scary.
Dang. Better to ask theoretically than after the fact, but, uh....not sure my point. I'd hope his career training gave him some pointers too.
Ah, old man has descended from his upstairs lair, may be incapacitated shortly if he wants to lie on my arm. I kinda let him cuddle whenever he damned well pleases (which leads me to drying my hair with a cat on my lap, pausing to run the dryer over him cause he likes it) cause he's definitely running down these days. Still game, but his legs are getting wobblier. Pretty damned good for a 17 year old cat with 7 years of diabetes. Or is is 18 and 8 now? Anyway, he still wrestles with Loki in short bursts. And can do stairs.
Gah, ita. Too scary.
I took a nap after I came back from my errand and lunch with G&J (who say hi, ita, and agree that you need to come up here.), and now I am wondering why I bothered waking up.