Tube sock and pasties, huh? :eek: Thanks so much for that. My attorney will be in touch and we’ll just settle for you paying all my impending therapy bills once the night terrors subside. I know we’ll settle because there’s no way a jury can NOT convict you based on that statement alone. So just write a check, and we’ll never speak of this again.
<pause for uncontrollable shuddering>
Truth be told, I gots boobs too. Big, floppy man-boobs.
I just didn’t want to say anything, because it’s impolite to contradict Ellen in a Rue thread.
Yeah, that’s it.
Good luck with The Place, you fatso. Work hard on it, you can use the exercise. I could too, frankly, but I ain’t moving around because I’m lazy.
If you guys expect me to make anything out of giant concrete Elvis heads, gargoyles, 7 year old gas dryers, an emu farm, thongs, and dancing, you have to give me advance notice.
Lots 'o commas there for you, Rue. And for dwyr too.
I’m just grumpy because Lissla’s thousandth post was way better than mine.
Poo.
Oh yeah, I forgot to ask.
Hey, FairyChatMom. Who is older, again? Is it you or Angel Pants? I forget.
Maybe I shouldn’t ask this question, because Angel Pants and Homebrew might give me a hardcore beat-down. Seriously, those guys are big. They probably wouldn’t hesitate to hit me in the head with a full trash can either. My first rule of survival is, “don’t screw with the tough guys.”
You, on the other hand, I think I could take. Maybe six rounds. Heck, you might go the distance. Old ladies. Yep, that’s just about my acceptable threat level.
I’m scared of what your husband might do, though. He could probably kill me just by flicking his wrist. And then there’s your daughter. The last thing I want is some fiesty kid getting me from behind and clawing my eyes out.
Note to the oblivious: This entire post was a joke, and you should lighten up a little bit. Except for any implication that I might be small and weak. That part’s all true.
Well, shucks. I’m jealous.
I mean I’ve got three indoor gargoyles (well… catgoyles really) but no outdoor ones. Pooh.
But not Winnie.
What is a gar anyway?. Or a goyle for that matter?.
Oh, wait. I’m a goyle. 
… [sub]I’m doing periods today.[/sub] …
U iz da kewliest goyle, 2.
'Kay, I’m sorry. I’m so lame, I can’t even fake up some weak teenager flirting. That “leet” garbage just isn’t even on my radar, as you can tell. I’ll have to use regular American English.
dwyr is a hottie, and everybody should worship at her feet.
How was that?
And you need some exclamation points, if you know what I mean.
!!!
Just for you.
Geez, Ex, all this good material and you can’t come up with anything? I expected better of you, Grasshoppah. Try to take the jelly bean from my belly button.
After all, right now you have an Emu Farm, the gates of which are decorated with giant concrete Elvis heads and gargoyles. Everyone knows Elvis loved Emus. And gargoyles. It’s a natural thing for a rock star. The tables in the diner are made from 7 year old gas dryers, and the waiters serve you in thongs while flopping thier man boobs at you.* A visit ends with the waiters and waitresses dancing The Dance of the Teenaged Emus.
Advance notice indeed!
!!!
Now I’m embarassed…
but in a good way.
!
I believe he has informed me on numerous occasions that I’m six months and 6 days older than he is. The big baby. Not that it matters. Age is a state of mind. OK, so it’s also a state of body - hence supposedly mature men acting like idiot teenagers, but I digress.
Six rounds? Of what - beer? Shotgun shells? Mortars? Row, row, row your boat? I could sing you under the table, boy!
As for my spouse, he’s not a wrist flicker, but he has facial expressions that make grown men quiver, and not in a good way. Well, it’s not exactly an expression - he’s got a permanent crease between his eyebrows so he looks like he’s always scowling. Some people think he’s a grouch. He’s not bad - he’s just drawn that way.
And my Perfect Child[sup]TM[/sup] doesn’t need to resort to clawing eyes out, unless she wants to. She’s had self-defense. And she gets really crabby when the PMS hits - that’s when you want to avoid her.
Incidentally, I refuse to use the nick Angel Pants at dinner tomorrow. I may, however, call him Henry. That’s not his name, but I might call him that anyway, just to see how far I can take it. I’ll report back after dessert. Or not. Depends on how I’m feeling.
You get little fishy s’mores for dessert at a fish camp, right Snickers?
Other than that, I have nothing else to add. Wait! Yes I do…
Dwyr really is way hot. You should worship at her feet. I said you should. I don’t think I will.
First, you get a better view of her loveliness if your not right there at her feet. And it’s not safe for her, she could trip over you and that really blows the whole “worship” angle, knocking her down. And thirdly I have on good pants, so I don’t want to grovel and get them all dirty.
(And did you notice I didn’t mention how her announcement should have had a TMI warning? It’s because I care.)
When we have the Miss (or Mrs. or even Ms as the case may be) Dope Pageant there’ll be, of course, the swimsuit competition, the eveningwear round and “tallent”. When we do the Mr. Dope, I pray we skip the “man-boob” competition. (Although I’m no slouch in that ring…)
-Rue. (Mr. Dope contestant from Ohio)
You two get up way too early every morning. I know because your racket wakes me up.
Racket?!? I’ll have you know I’m very quiet. I even keep my radio down low. And I agree it’s too doggone early, but I have to be in the office at 6, so I don’t have a lot of choice here…
Not to blame it all on Rue - but he is geographically a lot closer to you than I am. He might be right outside your window, Shibb! I think you should go out into the yard and check. Just don’t forget to tie your bathrobe. Gotta be considerate of the neighbors.
Terrific. The entire FairyChat family is dangerous. I should stick to picking on three year olds, except some of them are pretty tough too. And no singing. Singing scares me.
Beauty pageants and emus also scare me. And heights. And airplanes, but you already knew that.
What in heck is a fish camp?
Well, this is the fish camp where I will be letting swampy buy me dinner…
As to the rest of your issues, I think I’ll leave them to the professionals.
There was a mallard in our driveway last week or so, that looked an awful lot like Rue. And you know what they say, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… Anyway, I don’t wear a bathrobe. But I keep my pyjamas on most times now, so they won’t see too much. Besides, I don’t really have man-breasts, so as long as I’m not hanging out like that guy in Coldfire’s WTF Department thread, I think the world is safe.
Holy poo.
Now, there’s an image I could have lived without!
LOL! Bravo, bravissimo!!
(Sorry, Ex, but if I makes you feel any better, I didn’t have anything in my mouth, so no dribblage occurred! )
Hey, I just notice, I have over 100 posts! When did that happen? Still, cool! 
You forgot to mention that if I fall on top of anyone they’ll most likely be mashed flatter than a haddock. Nothing ruins a worshiper faster than being squished.
Wait 'til I do colons.
Now that, right there, is the kind of funny I’ve come to expect from the Rue threads.
I’m dissapointed with myself, though.
This is the second straight MMP thread in which I’ve failed to make Wintermute dribble. Plus, I was kinda’ unpleasant to FairyChatMom, which is a felony in six states.
I am a worm.