Bumba your TMI makes no sense. Did she have abnormally stubby fingers or sumpin’? I may not actually want an explanation, but there you go. Also, if I lost a string I would do anything before asking for help. I may revel in the TMI experience here on the boards, but in real life I am completely TMI free. Scrupulously, okay, neurotically TMI free.
Hi taters! Didja save any tequila for me? What! That is the most important part!
MBB&B AKA Boris, I have no idea what you mean officer! Why those are hair clips and tobacco papers for traditionlists, and that’s, that’s… uuummmm, a personal humidifier that runs on a lighter’s flame for when you’re camping or the lights go out. Very good for bronchitis, yep. Here’s a free sample of the sandalwood ‘n’ sage incense, for the little woman.
Lissla, you gotta: 1) somehow get pics of Dancing Boy and 2) gimmee potato pie. If the pie is not found in my refrigerator by 8pm I may have to resort to cooking up that chicken with the pepita simmer sauce I bought at TJ’s. Or eat a handful of chewy sweetarts for dinner, like I did for lunch.
And you plastic people are nuts. If cardboard is slippery (which is why og made tp by the way) plastic is a dolphin swimming in astroglide. Sans applicators have their advantages at times, but are not my go-to guys.
Taxi, I still want to hope Teddy is just a little low on protein, but yeah, it hurts to think about, doesn’t it? My silly betta Indy is over six years old and I can’t stand the thought of the day he’ll be too tired to go on, and he’s just a silly old fish. Give Teddy lots of hugs, I’ll keep good thoughts for you both. And I almost forgot! I checked that airport dress you mentioned. Dearie, don’t you think it might be a little chilly? You might want a sweater whenever you wear it. And pants. Maybe a fleece jacket and uggs too.
Sean, I think maybe you’re right, I bet MBB&B rides a Vespa (which would be my scooter of choice, if I were to scoot). I’ll bet his is periwinkle blue, with a little flowered straw basket on the front. Don’t forget the mittens he wears. His mommy made them to match the scooter. He’s good to his momma that way. Just in case though, don’t tell him we were castin’ aspersions upon his possibly not imaginary ruffian-ness. I hear everybody who rides a motorcycle is a white slaver and I don’t have time in my schedule to be smuggled to China’s seemy underworld and made into the star attraction at a freak show where I will be noticed by a friend on vacation. And from the sounds of all that paperwork, neither do you.
Donkey, I always thought it stood for A Certain Unique Guy. Try the capris, but get them very slim fit up top or they might make you look hippy. How about gauchos, for some international flair? Also, I thought german men wore shorts that are a bit too short for most americans’ viewing comfort, not capris. Maybe the shorts are for when they’re backpacking in other countries and it’s capris at home?
Winnie, for a second I was very confused. I thought the coffin you referred to was a urinal and I was thinking there was something you hadn’t told us. Then I remembered about stalls and all was revealed. Small stalls are silly, they don’t stop anybody from fooling around, they just slow you down which makes the line longer. Erm, I meant for tinkling and such, though I suppose it would slow everything down, true.
Bumba, I didn’t even know Eddie Albert sang, so I thought maybe he’d started in stand-up or sumpin,’ and I was going to say I collected all the Smothers Brothers records ever made which were hard to track down, some of 'em. But then it turns out the guy sang so all my sources (2) are irrelevant. So close yet so far. If it’ll help I also still own records by Blondie, and Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, plus the Chipmunk’s Punk Tribute album (we will not dicuss the Duran Duran album which you know was a gift from my goofy little sister). Though my sources were the record shop back when I was twelve and being without a time machine that jumps musical genres, I don’t think that’d help either. So instead I’ll just waste your time and get your hopes up, only to dash them. Sorry. I’ll sing a song from one of my records to make up for it: 'Gonna gitchya, one way ooor another…" Wait! I also own a bazilion records of famous speeches my dad used in his history classes, what about those?
The oddest thing happened yesterday. Or rather this morning around three. I was going to bed when I remembered my laundry! I’d forgotten the last load in the machine on monday and I hadn’t set it to dry after washing, either. Man, were my clothes going to be smelly. Only they weren’t! Instead they were a bit wrinkly but almost completely dry. I checked the machine, nope, not set to dry. It had just been that hot!
Draelin, I think your xanax was of the slightly wimpy variety, like I had. Two of them do make you a good bit sleepy, so watch out! And I know why you’re jumpy, it’s the ciggies! Get rid of those things, the Draelin in my head doesn’t smoke, and we can’t have the fantasy life I’ve made up be contradicted by silly old facts. Plus, I hear cigarrettes aren’t good for you. But don’t tell that to anyone, it may be a secret still.
Bookeeper, it is possible to get rid of books. Learning how is a very painful process and not recommended for any except the most strong willed or truly depraved. The strong willed may wish to start small, by throwing out Jack Chick tracts and progress to selling trashy romance novels at the used book store. After many years you may get to where I am now, passing along books that revealed themselves to be horribly written junk, to people you don’t like. Throwing away actual good literature will cause instant death to all people posessing a soul and/or ounce of sense and is not recommended under any circumstances. Not to brag, but rumor has it I once had a dining area over there under the book depository.
Uh oh, sweetarts for lunch has just made my bood sugar dive to the bottom of the Mariannas trench. But just this once. At 7:30. Hopefully for no more than 20 minutes.
