March 27th, 2006

calico jack

You? You're a 10

lpsmith rates people with a kind heart and an open mind:
So yes, older lady with bad hair, you are a 10. Young woman with a 1-year-old, has the father gone missing? What a jerk. You are a 10, and deserve better. Fabulously gorgeous woman wearing not much, everyone knows you are a 10, but I, too, will tell you that you are a 10. Perhaps you know this already, and perhaps you do not believe it yet, but I will say it once more. Pierced-eyebrow lady, that probably hurt. You seek to be unique. You are a 10. Teen-aged girl whose only picture of yourself you could find was of you with your more-attractive friend, you too are a 10. Creative woman with a nice collage of you in different poses, you are a 10.

You too can bring a bit of happiness to random strangers on Spread the love. Quoted with permission.
Red Sag


arifirh is not having a good morning:

I don't get along with mornings particularly well at the best of times (especially pre-tea). I can usually cope with the cars, sunlight, lorries, occasional aeroplanes, but not the loudest, chirpiest, most obnoxiously bloody happy bird in the entire world singing its heart out outside my window at just before six in the morning.

Birdsong's lovely most of the time, and nice to wake up to. This, however, was not a bird. This was a four inch tall demented Luciano Pavarotti on helium with with short term memory difficulties, repeating two lines from Refrains In C# Too Irritating To Be Used As Ringtones by the lesser known Dutch composer Hans Twit.

It knew what it was doing, too. Oh yes. After ten minutes waiting to see if it'd give up, I went up to the window - and it stopped, for about thirty seconds. Back to bed - it started again. I opened the window, and it flew away. Peace... I went back to bed.

Parrottini had flown all of five metres away and continued singing with redoubled chirrupiness, this time with full dawn chorus backing. He went away just after I decided to admit I was awake and get up.

(no subject)

In reply to my entry where I said:

Sometimes I wonder if it's already too late to realize any of my dreams.

l_neeko_l writes:

It's never too late. It's only late when your dead. Cause, you know, it's hard to skydive when your in a coffin. Something about aerophysics.


from poor_skills

In a public post about people deleting posts and show dogs when you are poor..

herooftenfailed said

I will rehash drama for you.

riverheart posts useful information about co-owning show dogs, which affords people who are interested in having/showing show dogs but can't the high costs themselves the luxury of doing so.

Bitchfest commences. SHOW DOGS? OMGZ OH NOES! We's po' folks, we's barely got roofs over our heads, people who want dogs SHOULD go to the pound blah blah. SHOW DOGS? OMGZ OH NOES! Exploitation! Blah Blah blah! Think of the childruns puppaaaaaaahs, the poor puppaaaaaahs! And breeders are evil! And selling puppaaaahs! Exploiting puppaaaahs!

And then I stopped to put on a puppet show. So I probably missed stuff. But for the sake of good drama, I will say that Pamela Anderson showed up, doused in chicken guts and there was a mini-PETA protest, complete with a sing along about how show dogs are evil, and how breeders should be slaughtered. And there were pirates. And a fire-eating midget. And free smoothies for all. Until a fight broke out and women were wrestling in mud with the aforementioned pirates. And then the post disappeared.

The end.
Rebellious Oak

(no subject)

caprine's brain is having some "issues" with itself and its fashion choices. Fortunately, despite their different perspectives, the two sides agree on corsets:
The femme brain is all, hourglass figure and mondo cleavage! And the butch brain is all, black leather body armor!

The whole post is here and well worth a read. (QWP, natch!)
  • Current Mood
    scared Hiding from the fashion police
  • zenala

(no subject)

Sometimes, reading what passes for discussion in here is like watching elementary school children vigorously debate the principles of quantum mechanics.
--from this post on libertarianism...

(I have no opinion on the actual meat of the post, but this tidbit amused me)
smackdown, come closer so i can slap you, idiots

(no subject)

bishsticks in customers_suck creates some commandments for the religious nuts that send in church news briefs to her newspaper:

1. Thou shalt write no more than 250 words.
2. Thou shalt obey all deadlines.
3. Thou shalt not Bible-bash, gay-bash, religion-bash or people-bash.
4. Thou shalt write in correct sentence and paragraph form.
5. Thou shalt include verbs in all sentences.
6. Thou shalt use spell check.
7. Thou shalt spell Satan, your deity's and pastor's name correctly (because we don't need to fear Satin and worshiping Chris the Lord just sounds silly).
8. Thou shalt write legibly.
9. Thou shalt not write your church news as stream of consciousness.
10. Thou shalt be nice to those who handle church news.
11. Thou shalt buy and read the paper before calling to complain.
12. Thou shalt not wage church wars in the paper unless holy robots are involved.
14. Thou shalt not abb. books of the Bible (esp. Mk. and Ats.).
15. Thou shalt not use Internet slang, lol.
16. Thou shalt submit only one church news (not including special events) per week.
17. Thou shalt not write poetry in your church news.
18. Thou shalt not discuss politics in the church news.
19. Thou shalt not discuss sex or bodily urges in the church news.
20. Thou shalt include the church and author's name on your church news.
21. Thou shalt not spell savior with a "u."
22. Thou shalt not write in dialog form.
23. Thou shalt refer to them as angels, not angles. (And lo, the angle of the Lord came down and said, "Thou art obtuse.")
24. Thou shalt remember that God and the Holy Spirit are not in your mist.

QWP. The whole post is rather funny, but it is friends-locked.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
Save myself
  • neaira

Money for nothing!

witty_banter relays a conversation with a friend about the best moneymaking scheme. Ever.

Me: "We have totally mastered slothenliness."
Mike: "We have, we should teach a course."
Me: "Totally."
Mike: "We could charge $100 per person, and then never show up. And when they complain, we'd be like 'I TAUGHT YOU!!!'
Me: "We could call it 'How to make money doing nothing.'"

QWP, here.
  • Current Music
    Aqua Teen Hunger Force
illiad spoiler // kateshort

(no subject)

theferrett has found out what is wrong with Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, and more specifically videogames that are a wee too realistic in art, but not so much in execution.

So you follow him to the bar where he goes after work... And he sits down for two hours, during which you have to wait and watch him do nothing. You talk to him, but he has three things to say and he's said them all. The bartender also has three things to say, none of which change, so you get bored. You start dancing around the room, doing ballet jumps off the staircase to try to crank Athletics score up a few notches while you're waiting. Nobody notices anything unusual about the fruit boinging about the room like a hyperactive pogo stick, so you jump up on the bar between your target and the bartender and start kicking bottles off the table, stomping on the tray of ham, doing a merry Riverdance and scattering mugs and glassware all over the floor. Not a man notices nor cares. In fact, the NPCs carry on conversations about local gossip while you're Keith Mooning the room to flinders, which is somehow insulting; the people here are talking about the spate of local burglaries as if it's of high importance, but your gorilla-style poo-flinging antics aren't worthy of comment.

I strongly recommend the entire post, which possibly broke my body. Here, QWP.
  • Current Mood
    giggly giggly