(And then we had to sing all the ones we could remember, at the table. And mention that episode of the West Wing where CJ doesn't know the Thanksgiving song)
'Beneath You'
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[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.
Sorry about your crappy morning, askye.
Girls weren't allowed to take shop, and I refused to take home ec as a point of honor. Also, my mother was sick, and I was already doing quite enough cooking and cleaning. At my small high school, the alternatives were Latin, typing and study hall. I viewed study hall as a complete waste of time, so I took two years of Latin and one year of typing, which together did me more good than the entire rest of the curriculum.
I had a meltdown at the oncologist. Kaiser is closing the oncology office I've been going to for more than a decade, so I was going to a new office. I was running late because of pouring rain and traffic, then I missed the turn and when I got to the office I didn't know where anything was. Then the whole idea that someone would have to do for me what the blessed LAistas are doing for ita crashed down on me. Bad, bad day.
Then the whole idea that someone would have to do for me what the blessed LAistas are doing for ita crashed down on me. Bad, bad day.
Great big hugs to you!
Oh, Ginger. That is a truly awful day. Saying I'm sorry seems inadequate.
Oh, Ginger. What a brutal gut-punch. I'm so sorry. Also, mad at the closed-up oncology office on your behalf. Also wishing we lived closer, or close at all.
Ginger, that is a day deserving of a meltdown. Can I send you some virtual bourbon?
Oh Ginger. (((hugs))) Why don't I pour you a nice virtual shot of that Eagle Ridge you liked?
Ugh, Ginger, I'm sorry. I'm so looking forward to seeing you in person soon.
May the terror be behind you soon, Ginger.
Ginger. Sending virtual hate bombs to fate.