Plastic Lincoln Log roofs? We had wooden roof slats! Long green ones and short yellow ones, I think… this is going back almost 40 years. They were actually my brother’s - he got all the neat building toys and I got dolls and crap like that. 
But now I have my own power tools, so that’s good.
And I don’t fry chicken, in case you were gonna ask. 
Exgineer, darlin’, I was just funning with welby–why would I want someone with hairy palms and sunburnt nipples when I could have you? I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.
Guess what? Yep. I can make fried chicken. Good fried chicken. So don’t go selling that soul of yours, it’s mine, I say. Mine.
Ah, but you forget–you could also make zig-zag fences. How exciting is that?
I was going to go through and snip, but there’s just too much to say:
Kallesa: You cna have Exgineer.
Tanookie and Wintermute, I think it’s time we all got together for a little discussion and some mineral oil wrestling so this can be settled once and for all. Winner plays top, losers have to. . . well, doesn’t really matter does it?
And FCM, I’m easy, but it would take more than cake to keep me around. After all, you couldn’t possibly bake enough cakes to take the place of a good Lego set. Not that your cake doesn’t kick ass, it’s just that your cake ain’t a big box of Lego blocks.
And last, but not least, Ellen baby you had you chance. I spent weeks . . . well days. . . .well, a couple of posts anyway trying to pick you up and you just ignored me and sniffed around after that lowlife Exgineer fella. Sorry toots, but you aren’t in the running any more.
Believe what you will - I know better.
Fine, fine: Cat Update- sniffing the couch, and scared of everything. Perfectly normal.
Wow, this has really turned into a flirt thread. And, I notice I haven’t been mentioned by any of the men- not in a flirting context, at least. Hmmph.
There weren’t any monsters under my bed. They hung out in the closet, or waited outside the door to slink in and strangle me. I slept with a protective wall of stuffed animals.
I’ve gone cross-eyed and blind doing 4mm chainmail. Can’t read computer any more. Not that it in any way detracts from my dazzlig beauty and the cinnamon buns that I baked last night. With extra caramel syrup.
Lissla I know what you’re going through, darlin. 4mm is enough to blind most people before they ever get more than a couple of square feet done.
Hmm, sexy chainmail chicks. . .
Ha! I am the ultimate consumer–I didn’t knit my own chain mail, I had it specially made for me. Why go through the fuss and bother of doing it yourself (and I have worked with chain mail, coifs and such) when you’ve got an old friend who owes you money?
I suppose that sleeping in chain mail would keep you safe from monsters, that and a zig-zag Lincoln Log fence around the bed.
And welby, just for the record, Wintermute threatened to break out the kiddie pool and mineral oil to wrestle with me. yeah, like she could take me down. Ha.
Dang! This has turned into some kinda knock down free for all fight over welby? I’d be impressed cept for the fact that I am one of those boys who likes boys, so I’m not impressed. 
BTW, I can fry some damn fine fried chicken. No brag, just fact.
The pool is done! The sod is laid (layed? lain?), heck, the sod is down on the dirt and now I am constantly watering it. Anywho…the pool is done! The bar is in place. The swing is put together. The table and umbrellas are up. The pool chairs are in place. The privacy fence is done. It’s pool time!
Woo hoo! Party at Swampbear’s! Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!
I call dibs on a floating lounge chair with built-in beverage holder!!
Yeah but you’re still professing your lust for Exgineer, so I figured it was best to invite someone along who had better taste.
Even so, kind of nice to know that the welby lust-fest is going on.
And swampy, don’t let that sod get laid in your yard. Make 'em use the bedroom.
See, you say you’re not interested, but you keep waving promises of chocolate cake like Mephistopheles tempting Faust. It’s not right, I tell you.
Down, boy!
I just know I misheard you. I think what you meant to say involved the words “sir” and “please.”
Ha, yourself. I have four, count 'em, four sisters. I think I know a thing or two about girl fighting.
And if they didn’t? :dubious:
Could you bring them along?
And a whole big bunch of Jello?
Actually, I could bring the Jello, I have a pickup truck.
I’ve got three sisters myself, so barely an advantage there. But I don’t fight like a girl–no scratching, no slapping, no biting, no hair pulling, no whining. In wrestling, it’s all about speed and body mass. And one of those, I’ve got in spades.
Pool Party!!! Anybody want to play Marco Polo?
Marco!
Well, three of them live in Calif., but yeah, I could bring them. Hope you like tall girls.
You bring the Jello, I’ll bring the whipped cream. Wait, you were talking about eating the Jello, right?