September 16th, 2007

feather

(no subject)

lukadia teaches fat paduans how to really shake people up at stupid_free (QWP):

MUAHAHA! I AM FAT MAN!

I TALK IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE CAPS TO INDICATE MY ENORMOUS GIRTH. I EAT YOUR SOFA. I FLOAT IN THE SKY ABSORBING THE OZONE SO KANGAROOS IN AUSTRALIA WILL OVERHEAT AND DIE.

I AM WHY THE FISHING INDUSTRY IS GOING UNDER. I ATE THE POLAR ICE CAPS WITH FLAVORED SYRUP. I MAKE YOUR HEALTH CARE EXPENSIVE. I MAKE YOU HATE ME SO MUCH YOU ABUSE YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS AND MAKE THEM FEEL LIKE SHIT, MUAHAHAHA! MY LAUGH IS THE LAUGH OF A VILLAINOUS CREATURE!

THUS SPEAKS FAT MAN!

Now that's how you fucking demonize an entire group of people, bitches. Quit being lazy!
  • Current Mood
    predatory
laugh

archdiva and His Biochemical Romance

What am I doing with my Saturday night? More fucking homework. Biology in fact. You know you've been staring at this shit for too long when the term Major Histocompatibility Complex makes you burst out in a fit of uncontrolled giggles. I mean come on...I get weird visuals of a cytotoxic lymphocyte sitting in a corner and crying hysterically while surrounded by a little crowd of immunoglobulins who are staring on helplessly and providing what little emotional support they can in this time of crisis.


Flocked, QWP.
New DD Av
  • dduane

(no subject)

caragana_leaves visits customers_suck to sing in deathless verse of clueless attempted guests:

Out you're sold?
You're sold out?
...But I can stay, I have no doubt!

...Can I stay here on the floor?
Can I curl up by the door?

Not on the floor.
Not by the door.
Not if you're nice.
Not even twice!
You cannot if you stare and glare.
You cannot stay here anywhere!
You cannot stay when we're sold out!
You cannot stay here! Please get out! ...


(Context is a green hotel with ham.)

The Creative Process, or: How to write a novel.

matociquala explains:

Find something you would like to create with. This can be with plasticine, papier mache, words, pipe cleaners and sequins, colored pencils, construction paper, popsicle sticks, or other media.

Sit down and fidget with your materials. Build a little hut out of words and popsicle sticks. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Log Cabin, No Trademark Infringement Intended."

Put it on your desk and be proud. Feel refreshed. Show it to your friends.

Six months later, notice it collecting dust. Think, huh, that could be better.

Take it apart. Put it together. Fix the roofline. Use some plasticine for stickum this time. Give it a styrofoam chimney.

Put it back on your desk.

Six months later, add some pipe clearer smoke to the chimney, with the cool wooly pipe cleaners. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Log Cabin V. 2.0, No Trademark Infringement Intended."

Take the pipe cleaner smoke off again. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Boyfriend's Log Cabin, No Trademark Infringement Intended."
Collapse )
[info]open_the_blinds)

(no subject)

starwild on gardening and goth:

A couple years ago, there was this ridiculous flap on one LJ community or another--maybe metaquotes?--that involved a Harry Potter fan/fanwriter and his Dark Gawthness Of Scary. There wasn't much to it, except that a really funny (psuedo?)quote came out of it...something along the lines of, "I'm so goth, I bartend. In the dark." There were icons, but it was before the days of the macrosplosion. I don't even know if anyone else remembers it.

But.

I've been too lazy to get around to doing that gardening I needed to do today, so I'm working on it now. It's getting dark and I have the patio light on so I can see, and I keep cracking up laughing because I cannot stop thinking, "I'm so goth, I garden. In the dark."



Context is f/o

QWP
HOLD ON

Wet

fred_god_of reports:

It's raining The good news is that I can now use windshield wipers
The Bad news is that my hair has taken on roughly the volume of Finland. This is entirely my fault, I was the one who decided to repeatedly dye it orange and kill it only to have it rise from the dead like a zombie corpse and like a zombie corpse my hair seems to have the ability to eat people. When I get to England (roughly the humidity rating of the Mariana Trench) you will be able to follow my every move by disappearances of dogs, small children and shrubbery.
In non wet news, absolutely loving college, especially politics class which can be easily conquered by reading a chapter a head and looking out for fresh fruit. Never ever say that you want the people to rule directly, because then the teacher releases the tiger.

(no subject)

beloved_tree on her inner-childauthor and NaNoWriMo:

I swear to Byron, it's like having a kid who wants to go to Disneyland or something. If Disneyland were reached on foot after days of sleep deprivation, starvation, and fighting off badgers with flint knives.

(Context is QWP and doesn’t want badgers of any sort attacking her.)