January 2nd, 2007

agent may is unimpressed

The best things happen when you're dancing

Looking at the floor, I found I could really start to tell who was who. There were people dancing, nonchalantly going about the floor with their moves and their stylings, and then there were the dancers (some of them not very good, mind) throwing themselves into the fire with abandon and joy. Screwing up and loving it. Back on beat, back on phrase, back with your partner. Clashing energies and thundering feet and people who don't touch the ground. Blues dancers who melt across it, flowing like honey. Tap dancers pounding out rhythms with their feet, goading one another on to better, faster, more beats and riffs. Let those feet free and let those arms go. Go wild and embrace it, because seriously - who's watching?

--daroos certainly doesn't mind if you watch her.
  • kali921

Zombies, the cyber-velociraptor agenda, and you!

The profligately witty derigueur elucidates how he'll spend that SuperLotto fortune:

"Now, the common joke with wealth is that it turns madmen into eccentrics. I disagree. I am quite sane, if a little quirky. But wealth allows you to indulge any flight of fancy, and once your first whim is realised the brain starts churning wildly; if *that* can be made possible, then what about *this*?

First, of course, is the preparations for the zombiepocalypse. A safe haven, preferably underground and with its own power supply. Supplies for every conceivable scenario; famine, plague, breakdown of society, giant rocks from space and the return of the cyber-velociraptor armada. But if you're going to build a bunker, why not turn it into a full-blown Secret Base? There'd need to be a master control room with a silver highback chair from which I could view my domain.

Henchmen. Hmmm. Hiring goons would be simple, but picking out the ones who would be loyal, even in the face of death, is the challenge. So, leadership and inspiration training at the worlds finest institutions is in order. And while we're there, why not a bit of ninja training? No point being an eccentric if you can't defend your secret base! It worked for Batman, after all...

So in the course of the first week of my elevation to millionaire status, I've bought off all my friends, become wracked with paranoia, turned feral and buried myself. Howard Hughes would be proud of me (if anyone could get close enough to tell him without being pelted with feces)."

Context is chronicling the inevitable slide towards megalomania right here, AIM bucket helmets optional. Flocked, QWP.
  • keladry

(no subject)

jennjenn724 writes:

A note to authors of all fandoms:

Stop telling me how wonderful you think your story is in summaries and author's notes.  It is annoying whether it reads "tHis IS teh BEsT stOrY EVAAA!1!" or "This is a brilliant epic.  Original, finely crafted, blessed by Jesus, it ascends to new levels of fanfic greatness."

My friend says this is the bestest context EVAAA!!!!111!!
tasty brainmeats

(no subject)

In which reallybadpoetry finds some, um, really bad poetry:

"You were one of the best people ever" -- ONE of the best people ever. Well, you can't expect Erin to choose just one definite hero, can you? Of course not. A sample from Erin's list of best people ever: Elijah Wood, the bald guy from American Idol, Tom Welling from "Smallville," Lindsay Lohan, her best friend Stephanie, and Søren Aabye Kierkegaard.
  • Current Music
    Junior Senior - Move Your Feet
Hurley oh shit

garrity's kids are WW and MM, her husband is SM.

So I took the WW to the kid yoga class tonight, which she adores. One of the teachers usually comes equipped with a bagful of dollar-store goodies for the attendees, and this was one of those nights. The WW scored a "STICKY CREATURE CRAB," a specimen of that genre of neon-colored toys that look like a giant gummi candy, are very stretchy, smell like a DuPont factory, and have the surface texture of a gummi candy that has been in a toddler's mouth for seven to ten minutes. The "fun" part of these toys is that you can throw them at windows, shower walls, siblings, and other vertical surfaces and they will stick, then loosen, and "walk" (ie, roll slowly and stickily) down the surface. They make versions of the same toy in the shape of a hand with a long skinny arm attached; one may wield these like a whip, so that the hand will pick up pieces of paper or other light objects at which you flick it. Eventually these heinous objects gather enough fuzz and lint and filth that they are no longer functional, but even so your child will be vehemently opposed to throwing the damned things away. Collapse )

Context is f-locked and QWP.
stock; they all want to be us

It all started with a Turko...

wyldhorsestx on our inevitable descent into White Trash-dom:

Hot damn! I love being neighbors!

On the weekends, when we're not helping the property's owner brew up meth, we're using the primer and Bondo-ed Mazda for target practice. During "outdoor time" I send the little ones out to pick up the shell casings while the other ones run to the liquor store to pick up smokes and whatever hooch is on special for the week, preferably Boone's or MD 20/20, they make "naptime" a breeze.

That's okay about the cats. I won't hold it against you. Just like you don't get mad when I after we fight about the crock pot (which is mine, damnit!) I take shots at your dogs with my BB gun. Of course, because I'm bombed out of my mind I usually miss the dogs and hit the flower pots that everyone in the trailer park uses to grown their weed in.

Context has been on COPS. Twice.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused