July 20th, 2006

Eventually, the cat will catch those mice. Really.


Because, you know, nothing demonstrates one's moral and intellectual superiority than typing in the same fashion a cat on methamphetamines does while skidding across one's keyboard in pursuit of imaginary mice.

ginmar on netspeak, trolls, and other goodness.


Context at the above link, well, some. But do we really need context for brilliance like that?
agent may is unimpressed

Scenes from a Comic Con

This is the week the comics industry closes its doors, goes to San Diego and has inappropriate sex with the film/television industry.

--rantcomics sums up the reason why many comics pros go to the San Diego Comic Con.

There was also this guy digging through a box of comics with one hand, and gripping a child's hand with the other. The kid kept twisting and writhing, as if to say, "No, I don't want to be with all these geeks, I want to grow up to be normal!"

--lampbane reports from Preview Night.

Death of a Furby

ladydyani brings on teh funny again.

When my daughter was three, we somehow managed to beat the other people away and get her a Furby for Christmas. (Remember how popular those were? And how hard they were to find?)

She opens it Christmas morning, and is absolutely delighted. After presents are finished, I'm in the kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She's taking Furby around and showing him the house. I hear "This is the living room." Step, step, step. "This is the kitchen." Step, step, step. "This is the bathroom." Pause. "Go potty." SPLASH!

She dropped poor Furby in the toilet. I suppose dropped is the wrong word. Shoved would be more appropriate.

After a painstaking drying, he did manage to work again, but for the rest of his life, he would randomly blurt out odd sounds every once in a while.

Poor Furby.

The context has been savaged by a small child
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drunk dumbo

(no subject)

dramacomic is thinking about the children. Really.

On a completely unrelated note, Bush, way to make great use of your veto there, so that all those stem cells will be safe and medical researchers can go back to developing more drugs to treat serious diseases like erectile dysfunction. After all, trying to cure Parkinson's is hardly worthwhile, and it's important that those embryos survive so that they can eventually be shot in the face by Dick Cheney.

Q Dubya P, F-locked, blah, blah, blah..
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    Goo Goo Dolls

God = Alligator

excusemesenator: Well, that does it. I don't think I can be an atheist anymore. For years I've scoffed at feeble attempts to prove some sort of god exists, but how in the hell can I ignore this?

puf_almighty: See they didn't read the REST of the alligators in that clutch of eggs, which said "ISN'T REAL"

makkotah: I would have thought "Finger Lickin'"


Also, I just saw this quote, and had to include it:

styletax: Speaking of rap, the best rap I have ever EVER heard was when my boss, who is in his mid 50s and the assistant dean of university, walked into the office in the morning, stopped in front of my desk, and with the most deadpan and scholarly-thoughtful voice in the world, "To the extreme, I rock a mic like a vandal, light up the stage, and wax a chump like a candle," and then proceeded straight into his office. 

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Squee Kitty

Yo homey!

comeonandvogue7 wants a "brief rundown on how to start a gang."

aunticrist has some good advice:
1- Come up with some really convoluted hand signs so you can properly communicate with others. make sure that its unique so you don't accidently talk to someone from another crew. Being double jointed helps.

2- You need some colors. A lot of the basic combinations are already taken so you might have to go a bit wild: maybe hot pink and amber.

3- You might want to make sure that your gang name has easy initials that can be easily tagged someplace so you can quickly mark your territory. Don't go for the obvious NWO type stuff or the other thugs will laugh at you.

4- Practice posing in the mirror. make sure you master the art of leaning back without falling over and with your arms crossed. The further you lean the more bad-ass you will be.
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    amused amused

(no subject)

maverickjason83 is *slightly* frustrated with the people who make up myspace chain bulletins...

Hopefully, you’ll all repost this, and it will eventually reach the people who originally wrote those stupid chain stories, with this message:

You have no talent. You can’t write for ****, and your feeble attempts at storytelling have become a burden to anyone with more than four functioning brain cells. You and others like you are largely responsible for the decay of virtue, dignity and intellect that is slowly but surely turning the human race into a massive mob with the intelligence of a brook trout and the common sense of a rodeo clown, and unlike the characters in your pathetic stories, no one will mourn your death.

people who have a myspace will completely agree.
rest of rant here.

Sucky customers with lots of body hair

wendellg is having trouble with some sucky customers in this post in customers_suck:

So this is how my morning went today:

C1: Charlie, the one with really thick hair all over his body
C2: Chloe, shy, with pretty eyes but also a vicious streak
Me: handsome, brilliant, well-educated and (attention ladies!) heart-meltingly humble

Me: Guuuuuuuuh. Early-AM face.
C1: "We want to order."
Me: "Hell no, it's 8:15 in the morning. You know breakfast isn't until 9:30. You do this every day."

Me: Streeeeeeeeeetch.
C2: "Can we order now?"
Me: "NO. I told you: NINE-THIRTY. Is it NINE-thirty? No, it is EIGHT-thirty. Go drink some water or something to hold you over for an hour."

Me: Wonder if anything good is on TV now, or if Spin City reruns are still the best thing on at 9 AM on a weekday.
C1: *whiny voice* "We're hungry."
Me: "I don't know how many times I've said this. Every day you want to be served early. Every day I tell you we start serving food at 9:30, and you get served at 9:30. Even if you can't read a clock, you should have picked up on some of the many other ways to tell when we serve breakfast by now. In half an hour, you will be served."

Me: Better start the breakfast routine.
C2: *whiny voice* "I want food right now."

Me: "Food's on!"
C1 & C2: *crunching, chewing sounds as they hoover up everything I served them*

Afterward, as they usually do, they rubbed up against me and then went off to sink into happy food comas.

I love cats, but geez they're sucky customers when they're hungry.

QWP and all that.

Darren Hayes is a big shiny queer - and nerdanel is not very surprised.

But seriously, people. If you know who Darren Hayes is, and you didn't realize he was gay, here's what you're gonna want to do. Call the store where you purchased your gaydar, and ask them if they accept returns without receipts. If they say no, call the manufacturer and inquire whether it is still under warranty (tell them they are violating the implied warranty of merchantability. That sounds cool.) If they won't repair it, go on eBay and get yourself new gaydar.

~ nerdanel, here.

Flocked | QWP

In other breaking news, water is wet.
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    Dirty - Darren Hayes