You, the People of The Straight Dope, have really made my week. I’ve particularly enjoyed this dark alley of the SDMB, where your rants have given me hope and courage through what would otherwise be a monotonous eight-days-going-on-twenty of hurry-up-and-wait hell. You are some frustrated people out there, and I find solace in your company.
Whatever the circumstances were that shook you gems out onto the black velvet Elvis painting of my life, I thank you for joining me here, for I have had little of life outside of this recently. You have my eternal gratitude. Keep on felchin’, my friends; I love you all.
Here’s a broken link, to symbolize my appreciation: Survey says?
Ah, hell, pal, I haven’t even started. Literally. I’ve long ago decided to keep the bulk of my aggravations off the board. Except for fatherjohn, but he’s not MY aggravation… he’s EVERYONE’s.
And I think you want this for your link: Survey says?
Oh, fuck all, why did you have to mention that now, when I still have four left in the twelve and an eight a.m. meeting? Fuckin’ eau d’ High Life ain’t my best scent.
I will not do a search for FoG. I won’t. But I will throw the chips in and take my licks at another, more tomorrowish time.
Sofa king, for the happy smile you just managed to slap on my whimpery mug, I think I owe you some big smooch. You have a good day buddy. I’m off to bed with your lovely imagery.
Of the rest, 45% are sleepy, bored and crankier than hell anyway. Unfortunately the remaining 5% are nauseating alert androids everyone else wants to shove facedown in the supermarket donuts. (“You’d look good wearing some WD40 icing and sprinkles!”)
If somebody’s foolish enough to wake you up just burble, “We need to prioritize and maximize potential.” It doesn’t mean anything but nobody’s listening anyway. Besides, it’s better than stuffing cheap pastries up the noses of people who may almost look human come noon or so.
Veb
P.S. In vino veritas. You may hurt tomorrow but you spoke TRUTH the night before.
I’m not quite sure how this applies…but Mr. Jarbaby was reading the SDMB over my shoulder and said, “Sofa King! Sofa KING! WHAT A GREAT NAME! Sofa King. I love it!” and now has taken to calling himself Sofa King at all times of the day or night.
So possibly, one day in the near future, when I, the original Jarbaby am drunk, I could be calling out your name in the midst of some late night passion with the ol’ man.
Er, just so I’m sure what it is I’m laughing about, is it “Anus tear” as in “Anus Torn Between Two Lovers” or “Anus tear” as in “The Anus Teardrop Explodes”?
