August 15th, 2006

submissive (mostly)

mark13 has just returned from a festival with a rental car.

But at least cleaning it before I took it back was relatively easy (I was expecting something akin to the Somme lurking in the boot, but it had all dried out), although in the process I did find the following:

Standard mud
Mud, types f, h, p and tpe t7+
Chef's special mud
The ark of the covenant
The rest of Covenant
A bottle of vodka, which promptly claimed asylum from [info]purplestuart
Osama Bin Laden
Magic beans
Magic Broccoli
Magic Johnson
Bristol Temple Meads station
A piece of paper containing the words to make all the Little Chefs in Britain transform into Mecha-Destructo-Chef
That Thing 'They' Did Not Want You To See
A small homunculus of Andy Knifton
The Domesday Book (pop-up edition)
Clive
Another small piece of mud, pretending to be dirt

Anyone owns any of it, please let me know, and I'll cancel the Ebay auction.
[Context left the cake out in the rain]
  • Current Mood
    giggly giggly
outside

goodkingrory summarizes Huck Finn

"In order to be more sensitive to the needs of some readers, who may be offended by such language, despite the fact that it's being used in a similar context as the work which this is all in reference to ( being used more as a comment on its usage), the [n-word] will be replaced with the word dolphin

Well. It goes a little something like this


Huck: Oh man, I is a rich boy now and I is gonna be cultured. fuck that shit.
Tom: Adventure time! Let's rape and pillage.
Huck: Ok that was fun.
Huck's Father: Durrrrrrrrr. iwanyermoneyboy.
Huck: Oh fuck. I'm outta here.
OH MAN! EVERYONE THINKS I'M DEAD NOW
OH GOD, A DOLPHIN
Jim: Howdy there youngin', I'sa completeleh one dimenesnal charuktur.
Huck: You so crazy.
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-goodkingrory on his summer reading, qwp.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused

Quoted with permission

uncut_diamond writes,


"Coworker - Donna - was talking about her son - Adam - and gushing about the wonderful gift he gave his girlfriend - Amanda - for her birthday.

T'was a "skinny pig" - aka: a hairless guinea pig.

Her: It's so cute and they can play with it and she calls it her baby.
Me: I doubt the wisdom of ever saying to a girl that I love her and cherish her and to celebrate a milestone in your life, here's a pig. In short: hairless mobile bacon = doom. Slightly worse than a toaster or a scrapbook entitled "All the ways you remind me of your mother.""



Post Here.
Cassie-relax-lift

(no subject)

From major_thom4321 here:

Going through the fast, friendly and speedy checkout line at a Super Wal-Mart is like getting gang raped by 500 rabid weasels on Viagra. It takes forever, you leave hot, sticky, unsatisfied and carrying something that costs you entirely too much.


QWP
Vincent

Cuz ya had a bad day...

mom_almighty waxes rhapsodic about the joys of having an infant in the house: There is a hickey on my chin. The culprit shall remain nameless, but Gabe knows who he is. While it heals, I'm left to obsess about the fact that my child evidently believes my chin looks just like a nipple. Or my nipple looks just like a chin. Either way, not exactly desirable physical attributes. Context is not here right now. Leave a message after the *beeeeep!*
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
  • ems

Sneaky bastards.

davenotdave is having trouble with moths.

An open letter to all MOTHS.

Dear moths,

My breasts do not emit or reflect a particularly large amount of light, they do not resemble the moon in many ways, nor are they noticably similar to any night blooming flowers that I know of. Why, then, do you insist on following your bizarre spiral flight paths right into my cleavage?

Are you all perverts? Do you get some sort of pleasure from beating your ragged papery wings against my skin or nuzzling me with your horrendously fuzzy faces? Are you like those creepy little frotteurs on London Underground services ("Sorry love, bit crowded isn't it... ungh?") and crawling about to enjoy a teeny frisson of sexual pleasure as I bat you away?

I expect you've read up on Tort Law and know that any attempt to prosecute the lot of you will result in me being laughed out of a solicitor's office (possibly not The National Accident Helpline though). I would plead Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress or just general Crimes Against The Person and you would flutter about the courtroom, bumping into things ("sorry, I'm not very good in the daytime, where's the moon? By the way I'm a moth") and they would let you go. I know my rights and yet no-one will help me!

But you know what the kicker is you immoral sneaky little bastards? That I know right from wrong. I can't kill you without days and days of GUILT.

However, if this implies that I am governed by natural moral law (thank you Thomas Aquinas) and you find yourself exempt then it's pretty conclusive which one of us was created by a higher being, eh? NOT YOU.

All this is beside the point though. GET OUT AND STAY OUT!

Sincerely, Pip.

Ranting on the Right to Roam

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Access or no, the only resolution to such a situation is summoning the police, brandishing a boutique shotgun accessorised by Tom Ford, or in Kate's case shouting "Release the Hounds of Love!". Is it that those anoraks clash with a distant arboretum or rather a new iteration of the Great Confinement as the Great Exclusion. You're not on the list, you're definitely not coming on my land. Mad people, unknown people, get away from me! Within the fortress, every sound may be an attack. Expel contaminants, wrinkly skin, death. Control contingencies, anus, the press. Above Madonna's mansion, a giant Aleph floats charged and ready to deal with invaders. Or Quakers.

Sneak past sarmoung's searchlights for context

Calcifer

(no subject)

agentmaly talks about the indie scene.

The indie scene is a little weird - as I understand it, it is all about becoming a huge fan of bands nobody else has ever heard of, and then ideally keeping that information dead secret, because the minute word gets out about the bands, people have heard of them, and you're no longer the kid who's glamourously enamoured with music no one knows about. Though often I think it becomes a thing where you brag about knowing about all these bands no one's ever heard of, and so of course once you've spread the word about them, you've un-indiefied yourself. :P

Public post, context apologises to anyone 'indie'.