That's HIlarious erin.
'Hell Bound'
Spike's Bitches 46: Don't I get a cookie?
[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.
Ha, erin, you should send that to Not Always Right.
yeah, i think what he really wanted was some1 to clean it up, Sorry! I'd get disciplined if i set up a call for an officer to go clean up insensitive decorations.
Windsparrow and I got up early and voted. Then we napped. Now she's at work and I am sad.
Why even post a three-star review? If I post about a thing it's "OMG, I heart my new thing." or one star "Have you no decency, madam?"(more likely to happen now as KO has taught me so many prep-school ways of saying "Your mama!") People don't stand up in the public square to say "meh...it's a'ight." Congratulations, sj!
Plus...if there's crime scene tape around it, the police ALREADY KNOW.
That's where I was going with it, until the knife and fake blood thing.
Why even post a three-star review? If I post about a thing it's "OMG, I heart my new thing." or one star "Have you no decency, madam?"(more likely to happen now as KO has taught me so many prep-school ways of saying "Your mama!") People don't stand up in the public square to say "meh...it's a'ight." Congratulations, sj!
Hah! It's the "40-degree day" [TM Stringer Bell] of book reviews. (Yes, I spent a good deal of last week rewatching The Wire. What of it?)
ETA for people who didn't:
Stringer Bell: That's good. That's like a 40-degree day. Ain't nobody got nothing to say about a 40-degree day. Fifty. Bring a smile to your face. Sixty, shit, niggas is damn near barbecuing on that motherfucker. Go down to 20, niggas get their bitch on. Get their blood complaining. But forty? Nobody give a fuck about 40. Nobody remember 40, and y'all niggas is giving me way too many 40-degree days! What the fuck?
Hah! It's the "40-degree day" [TM Stringer Bell] of book reviews.
BWAH!!!
I just had to rewrite an essay revisiting my fifteen-year-old self. I was such a dork-- no wonder I didn't date until college.
The things I do in the name of promotion.
I had forgotten that quote, Brenda, but Stringer is too right about that. Of course, around here, forty is much closer to "get your bitch on," but his overall theory is sound.