August 9th, 2007

Team Bandana!

Nature wants to lay eggs in your brain....

stoney321 has something wanting to move in with the family:

For all of you who tried to REASSURE ME that the Spider Of Doomitude™ was just as scared of me as, blah blah blah, they are beautiful, magnificent creatures that I should make out with, that it didn't want to eat my face and make its egg sac in my brain meat, that it really just wanted to sing romantic R&B hits while strolling barefoot on the beach while we planned our new web together...

YOU ARE FILTHY LIARS. You kiss your mothers with those mouths?!

I kissed my husband goodbye this morning, he opens the front door, steps out, SCREAMS LIKE A LITTLE GIRL and LIMBOS, spilling his coffee all over his dress shirt. Because the EVIL SPIDER MOVED FROM THE GARDEN TO BUILDING HER WEB ACROSS THE FRONT DOOR.

AT FACE LEVEL. I have tripled checked that all of my pets and children are accounted for. (Mr. S took a rake, gently scooped the She0Beast onto it and headed back to the garden with it. It PROMPTLY SCUTTLED UP THE HANDLE, ready to eat his face and lay her eggs in his brain meat. I heard a second little girl squeal and saw him fling the rake towards the neighbor's house.)

The neighbors are on their own. WE ARE IN A MARTIAL STATE, PEOPLE. (I have broken out in hives for the SECOND time. I itch everywhere. *whimpers*) But I would like to make some positive statements so I don't sit in my closet with my arms wrapped around my children and a loaded shotgun propped against the door:

Context has me curled up into a fetal position, even with the macro.
Bear Nuts

"I want to lick your underarm."

silvormoon finds chai latte deodorant:

I have a veritable passion for chai lattes. I'm just not sure I want one in my underarms. Armpits should not smell like something edible. It could lead to all kinds of awkward situations. I'll leave that to your imagination, because I'm not sure either of us want to think about what could happen if your boyfriend happened to get hungry in the middle of the night. Makes me wonder what they'll think up next. How about chocolate deodorant? Or doughnut? Maybe we could get adventurous and go for pepperoni pizza scent, or cheeseburger and fries. That could lead to some awesome conversations: "Hm. Does anyone else smell pizza?" "Oh, that's just my armpits." I'll bet you could meet some interesting people that way.
Bike, Faster

Lone Wolf and the Cretins of the Northern Line

The further adventures of mark13:

Sometimes my journey to work feels like one of those old text-based adventure games.

You are standing on the platform at Moorgate Station, trains lead to the North and the South.

Go North

You can't go in that direction.

Go South

You can't go in that direction. Gimli sits down and sings about gold.

Kill Gimli.

You can't do that.

Find functional public transport system.

I'm sorry, I don't understand that command. Please only use realistic phrases.

QWP. Context is glad she cycles to work...
cosmic about it

Metaquotes: Periodic reminder.

Hi, and welcome to metaquotes. It's essential that you read the comm info before posting. Since this community has over ten thousand members at last count, we do not make exceptions, or really want to debate the rules in the comm info. Achieving permission to MQ a friends-locked post is essential.

We also operate on a "three strikes, you're out" system, except in cases where you're really a dick, and then you get one strike. "Baiting the mods" is likely to get you summarily punted in the ass.

Thank you, and carry on.

On the French, opera, and Harry Potter?

black_castle rants in fanficrants

"oink oink" =/= "wink wink" ( well...maybe in France.)

Also, dear HP author-

When did Harry Potter learn to sing opera? In French? Why would he even want to learn? (And you claimed the fic wasn't AU. WTF?)

Then lipsofpoison replies with:

He learned it when Fleur learned to "oink."

black_castle : Oh no, save me from the dreaded veela pigs!

Context is spoiler free

(no subject)

copperbadge discovers 1980 people have friended him:

Ten more friends and we'll leave Modernism behind us, so enjoy pegged jeans and the 1200 baud modem while you can; thirty more and I will officially be posting from THE FUTURE.

I hope there are super-intelligent robots.

[insert clever context line here]