March 16th, 2008

HP Fleur

thedilettante Combines Consumerism, Customization, and Climaxes:


"We decided to open a sex shop (Supriya: a storegasm!) and, realising that many words rhymed with "or" and could be used for bad punnage, went slightly wild. Once again I remind you that we were in an rickshaw in traffic and faced certain death and so may have been slightly hysterical. So we spoke of science geeks and their Bohrgasms, Jim Morrison fans' Doorgasms (I suspect the man was terrible in bed though) Winnie the Pooh and his Eeyoregasms, historians (yoregasms), time travellers (foregasms), celibate priests (neither sex norgasms), Elrond (loregasms), Tarantino/Seneca (goregasms) and finally resolved to call said shop Loins Roargasms.

In Soviet Russia, yourgasms have you."

I QWP (and would enjoy yoregasms).

trollprincess goes to very different fast food outlets to me.

What I find really amusing ...
... about SUP's censoring of LJ interests is that it doesn't actually eliminate discussion of any of the topics or fanfiction or talk about boys making out, it just hides it from public consumption.

Which is great, because when advertisers and new customers sign up, it'll be a lot like showing up at a family-friendly chain restaurant -- you know, the kind with old board games and metal lunch boxes with old TV show pictures on the front -- ordering your fancy cheeseburger, and getting comfortable. And then when Mom gets up to run to the bathroom, she takes a wrong turn in the back and stumbled onto a big gay orgy with ten naked college boys, two teenage girls in Japanese school uniforms, a monkey, a guy in a furry costume, something with tentacles, a pregnant Captain Jack Harkness, three gimps in full leather attire, a rack, seven pink dildos, a barrel full of lube, and the Scissors Sisters playing on the stereo.

Which means that either Mom goes back to the management and demands their money back, or she takes one look at the scene in question and says, "Hey, is that cherry-flavored lube? I love cherry-flavored lube! Hold on, I'll go get my husband! And maybe Grandma!"
That's the entire post.
amused, spike and giles, generic humor

you've been eliminated...

hardvice comments on America's #1 show:

Oh god, American Idol.

Lots of people question why I watch such a ridiculous show, given how generally snobbish and picky I am about television to begin with. Tonight answered all such questions. It was a lolgasm from start to finish. Listening to a bunch of primped-up karaoke champs butcher Beatles songs while drunken and/or insane music has-beens try to find something nice to say= A++++, would def. watch again.

Seriously, all but about two performances were actually painfully awful, and the remaining two were merely dull. The dreadlocked kid who looks like a Whitley Streiber alien sounded like he was picking octaves at random out of a bag. KKKristy sounded, appropriately, like a hoe-down number at a Nazi jamboree. Who knew there could be a worse idea for a cover song than Dolly Parton's "Stairway to Heaven"? Monchhichi the Golden Child sounded lost, confused, and scared, and Gay Stripper was far too busy trying to pass for butch to, y'know, actually bother paying attention to what he was singing. All he needed was a clapping sealion and he could be doing performances at 3:00, 3:30, 4:00, and 5:00, with a break at 4:30 to feed the dolphins. The Bride of Frankenstein a) looked like Rachael Ray on acid this week and b) decided to play the Cyndi Lauper "When U Were Mine" pronoun game … can't wait to see how that goes over. Simon Cowell and Ryan Theacretht continued their "you're a fag", "no, you're a fag" banter, which is like watching a flame war where everyone loses but the casual bystander.

In short: we, as a society, may not get to watch Christians being fed to lions, but we get American Idol, which is a fair substitute in my book.

QWP, Context is a bit pitchy, dawg!
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