nanouk on plot bunnies:
"Actually, several of these biting and raving beasties (yeah, I imagine my plot bunnies with myxomatosis, so what? every bunny can't be fluffy and cuddly!) are running around like mad in my maze-like mind. I usually get a lot of fanfiction bunnies and I've learned to deal with them but now I'm getting Original bunnies. They're bigger and scarier, and they're trying to eat or jump the fanfiction ones...I swear it's turning into a very messy cannibal plot bunny orgy!"
See, back in the olden days, we used to have to use tin cans and string to post online and would have to push the electrons uphill both ways--manually!--and you just linked to stuff and if people didn't like it, you told them to bite you because it's YOUR page and you'll link to anything you damn well please, and maybe you'd insult their parentage and use some four letter words while you were at it. ;) Okay, sometimes if you felt benevolent, you'd decide you didn't want to link to their stinky page anyway because they're obviously poopyheads, but only if you were really, really nice. ;) In fact, a personal webpage just wasn't a personal webpage without the obligatory links page. And generally, when you linked to someone, people were flattered that you thought their page was cool enough to link. So when I see a page with some really aggressive, "You may not link to this page unless you grovel at my feet and give me cash, and if I catch you I will hunt you down and demand you remove your link and all civilized net.society will scorn you forever, heathen!!!" I wonder what the fuck is up with that and who whizzed in that newbie's cornflakes this morning. ;)
1994-1995--Ghoul, Our Mother of Eternal Frustration Cemetery, 6000 Prickly Street, Cuckolder, NY 12354. Frightened old ladies visiting graves to cardiac arrest, thereby increasing sales by 14% in first 3 months. Supped on flesh of unwary drunkards, instilled shock of mortality upon youth, gouged out eyes of lovers, answered phone.
You want to read the whole post.
MAYA: I like aristocratic British boys. I think I shall marry a graduate from Eton and Cambridge.
DAD: But gay affairs are compulsory at Eton.
MAYA: I am sure it is not in the rules.
DAD: It's like the Navy, it's understood. Three days out of port and after the tuck box runs empty...
MAYA: You are to give me lots of money for lunch now.
DAD: Is this lots of money actually because you want to buy piles of sweets, or because you're fining me for traumatising you?
DAD: Good, 'cause I wouldn't want to think we'd like, given you an eating disorder.
MAYA: More money. So much trauma. Cannot cope.
Most of the time that's actually my response to many social issues. Yup that's me, the advocate of the random face-slapping street-yelling approach to dealing with social issues. And it hasn't gotten me locked up yet.
Many years ago, my brother came up with the "Slap Down Day" concept. It was that there was one day, somewhat completely unlike Mother's Day or Rememberance Day, when you can walk up to anyone and just slap'em. No reason. Just do what you've been wanting to do. Aside from the fact that I would get slapped a lot ("") I think it would be lovely. The opportunity to slap certain people.... Mmmm.
kitiara: You do know that being a house husband means you have to do dishes, fold laundry, dust, and stuff like that every day, right?
abz6598: I'm going to be a very *bad* house husband. I'll be the Peg Bundy of house husbands.
..........snagged from kitiara's journal, here
--weredonut, on being asked to confirm her sexual orientation, here
God damn, yo. You say you want a revolution, and then people start whining that people are trading political donations for some fanfic porn. Revolutions tend to be a lot less polite than *that*, you know.
--sageofgodalming, in reply to my entry about the end of WW2, here.
Part of Webshots' gemini horoscope today: "Your dreams offer clues to the future."
::is horrified:: I bloody well hope not!!!
The classicist, willow-eyed, teller of stories, said
"You're not going to like this, ototoi. The long-
haired Akhaians are all hetero, my dear."
...But there were pretty boys in plenty, and Brad Pitt --
How could it be that poor Patroklos was not shagged?
Bored Akhilles, sulking before the well-benched ships,
spent his days screwing Patroklos through the mattress --
I'd swear on my gleaming pelt, it's in the text.
See the rest of the brilliance here.
How you know this has worked:
You will feel like God's own sphincter had opened up in the middle of your chest and disgorged all your organs - heart, lungs, liver, intestines, whatever. When you think that you've learned what hollowness is, he places that black hole that is your own self-loathing, self-deprecating judgmental fallacies inside your thoraxic cavity and then you implode upon the epiphany that you are so revolting that even the avatar of your mind and spirit reviles you.