Sending much ~ma to you Ma, Jen.
Stop means no. And no means no. So . . . stop.
Xander ,'Conversations with Dead People'
Spike's Bitches 47: Someone Dangerous Could Get In
[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.
Burrell - Apr 07, 2012 5:48:37 pm PDT #11007 of 30001
Why did Darth Vader cross the road? To get to the Dark Side!
JenP - Apr 07, 2012 5:49:18 pm PDT #11008 of 30001
Thanks, all. Bubble. Wrap. Am going to try to sleep now to be functional in the a.m. when I head up.
(Bizarrely, it's Easter, and the last two times she was in the hospital were Christmas and New Year's. What the hell?)
smonster - Apr 07, 2012 5:57:04 pm PDT #11009 of 30001
We won’t stop until everyone is gay.
Easter pastel bubble wrap~ma to your mom, Jen.
Kate P. - Apr 07, 2012 5:57:52 pm PDT #11010 of 30001
That's the pain / That cuts a straight line down through the heart / We call it love
Oh Jen, much ~ma for your mom! I'm glad you got to talk to her and can see her tomorrow.
hippocampus - Apr 07, 2012 6:03:09 pm PDT #11011 of 30001
not your mom's socks.
Much ~ma to your mom, Jen.
DavidS - Apr 07, 2012 6:08:43 pm PDT #11012 of 30001
"Look, son, if it's good enough for Shirley Bassey, it's good enough for you."
What the hell?
Fuck Arbor Day! Fuck it!
Zenkitty - Apr 07, 2012 6:20:44 pm PDT #11013 of 30001
Every now and then, I think I might actually be a little odd.
~ma for your ma, Jen! No more falling down, on holidays or otherwise.
Sunburn, ouch, Connie. Do not like. Beaded things, however, I like (but never wear).
Fuck Arbor Day! Fuck it!
Darn trees and their... pollen.
Steph L. - Apr 07, 2012 6:46:05 pm PDT #11014 of 30001
this mess was yours / now your mess is mine
Jen, noggin-ma for your mom!
I have a plot, and it's going to involve me getting this dress:
I love that! I have a wedding to go to in May, and I think I might just need a new dress. Hmmm.
I set the oven ON FIRE this week. I am not even joking. Not the stovetop; the oven. It was like something out of I Love Lucy. (Also, I am deeply suspicious that our smoke detector only works when it wants to.)
Yikes!
It was this whole deal where I made a cake last Saturday, in a lamb-shaped mold that fits together like a clamshell, but the top half has a lip all the way around it so it almost sits down over the bottom half. Anyway, the excess cooking spray from the top half dripped down on the floor of the oven while it was baking.
And yet -- it did not burst into flame then. Oh, no. On Sunday or Monday we were going to have pizza, and when we preheated the oven, smoke started billowing out. We quickly figured out it was the oil that dripped onto the floor of the oven, and ran around opening windows and grabbing fans to ventilate.
Tim finally kicked me out of the kitchen (wisely so), and when I checked on him a little later, he told me that the oil on the floor of the oven did actually catch fire. But -- according to him -- they were small flames. So he grabbed a sheet of aluminum foil that was there and set it over the inferno and it went out.
Through all of this, the smoke alarm in the dining room never went off. (Keep in mind this house is just under 900 sq. feet, and the dining room is right next to the kitchen.) I am dubious about the smoke alarm's ability to sufficiently warn us in time of an impending baking-related flamey disaster.
Dana - Apr 07, 2012 6:49:18 pm PDT #11015 of 30001
I haven't trusted science since I saw the film "Flubber."
I love that! I have a wedding to go to in May, and I think I might just need a new dress. Hmmm.
Ooh, I bet it would look lovely on you, with your blonde hair.
Scrappy - Apr 07, 2012 7:16:35 pm PDT #11016 of 30001
Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
I was going to lord it over J when he gets home tomorrow that Chet, our four-month-old puppy, had no housebreaking accidents the entire week he was gone--Because I am clearly the Chet Whisperer. Sadly, Chet peed in the house not once, not twice, but THREE times today. Way to regress, dude!