Like you didn’t know that.
Watching the cars come down the lane from the ferry and KNOWING that it means I missed the latest trip.
Oh, what else bugs me. Milkweed bugs are aka Box Elder Beetles, and since someone told me that they’re called milkweed bugs first, that has stuck. And around here, they use the other name, and it BUGS ME.
Standard Electrode Potentials.
I’m still irked about Jethro Tull winning a grammy for best heavy metal act.
Well, they ARE bugs, after all.
Stick with the people’s nomenclature! It’s where it’s at!
Plus, has anyone who calls them ‘BEB’ ever given you beer?
And silicon (at least the casing is, still, I think) boobs.
Fake. It’s what’s for dinner.
I get furious whenever I think of Frank Lloyd Wright. That arogant little midget fucker ruined American architecture. I would love to personally demolish one of the buildings he designed just for catharasis.
How much money you got?
When people reverse silicon and silicone. Remember, no matter how big Wendi Whoppers cranks her bra size, you will NOT get a single megahertz out of them.
It is? Can I get a pair?
Back to the OP –
I am bothered by the lack of punctuation and capitalization. In a format where what you read is what you get, I prefer to see some indication of intelligence through punctuation and capitalization. Call me stodgy.
Tripler
But I’d still like some boobs.
But what I want to know is, is there a difference between capitalist running dog boobs and proletariat boobs?
My roof leaks and I have already spent $800 to have it repaired.
[Homer]
Mmmmmm. Bourgeoisie boobs. Mmmmmmmm. . .
[/Homer]
Tripler
I’ll take one Russian mail-order bride, please. . .
Pie.
My once-a-year-Grandma’s-Thanksgiving-pie, and I was eating the last piece while reading the dope, and I dropped half of it on my lap, dammit.
“Screw it”, thought I, and ate it anyway.
My first Thanksgiving away from family.
I was with friends, but still. It’s just not the same.
They’re already playing Xmas music incessantly on the radio. It’s November.
November.
I’m at my aunt, uncle, and grandparent’s house at the moment. Houses, technically, although they’re connected; when G&G had to move in they converted the barn. Their armchairs are where the cattle pen used to be. G&G are slow moving people, both pushing 80 and with various handicaps. So the big event of the day was going to the gift shop of a local syrup bottler, where we picked out gift baskets for distant relatives and I bought syrup and a few other odds and ends. Grandma doesn’t get out much, and I am both happy and horrified to see how pleased she is to
spend less than an hour in a shop looking at things as I push her in her wheelchair.
The other highlights this vacation have been me messing
with Chiburashka (my new used laptop) and reading the Hobbit in a day. As opposed to, say, writing my paper on why Noam Chomsky’s theory of passives is bullshit and that he is a wanker.
Bah.
things that annoy me-
Fire–it might hurt my house or friends or family…
Underpants–who needs 'em?
Boobs–need I get into how sex sells? I might not have purchased 3/4 of the things I have except for BOOBS
Having an idiot along when you move someone can be hazardous.
My son-in-law refers to my beloved bottle of Frangelico as “Mrs. Butterworth.”