New rule for the next hour until H gets back: if G wants to continue to watch TV he has to do so laying down because he is an overtired, cranky mess at the moment.
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.
Insent, Tep.
Steph, much job~ma for you, however things turn out.
G just told me that dinosaurs lived in the 1950s.
According to xkcd, dinosaurs live RIGHT NOW! In fact, I got a backyard full of them and they are chatting up a storm.
Meetup has suggested I join a group called Creative Soapmaking and Cocktails. Honestly. The soap would totally ruin the cocktail. And vice versa, I'm sure.
Duh. That's what makes it creative.
I was thinking that it's probably better to finish the cooking-with-lye part of the soapmaking before you start swilling the cocktails, but other than that it sounds fun.
Cook-lye and cock-tail sound too much alike when I'm drunk.
So I locked my office and headed downstairs to walk home. Then I see a large number of police cars blocking all the streets. I walk 4 blocks to my route and ask the officer if I can walk home. No m'am, there is a man with an assault rifle in the area. Seek shelter. So since I can't get back in my office now I am hanging out in the bank lobby.
And Bobby at home with my office key and car can't leave of course.
Also, yikes!
And apparently they got him because only one block now closed. And I'm walkin'.
Wow Laura! Scary! That and Burrell's explosives thing...
Made it home without incident, but omg warm! It is only in the mid 80s, but I am a sweaty mess. Now for the pool quickly.