Oh, yeah, Lindt White Chocolate truffles! I hadn’t thought about those! Those things are better than sex!! ::moans orgasmically::
I think there’s a Lindt kiosk in the mall across the street, but I have an errand to run during lunch. I don’t think I have enough time to do both, darn it! Now I’m torn; pick up my paycheck or go get some truffles? Dither, dither, dither…
I am, of course, ignoring you per the S.O.P., and not actually responding to this post. Just so you know.
Forget the G.I. Joes and candy spears (you’re such a boy!), if I’m celebrating Easter as a pagan, I’d rather dance naked around the fire and sneak off into the woods to, you know, fertilize.
Of course, the problem with all of that is, no new shoes. Or hats (I love hats!). Or clothes. Nope, that won’t work at all. I don’t even go to church, but if I can’t splurge on new spring shoes, what’s the point? Christ’s resurrection? Pfft! It’s all about the shoes, baby!
We know. Why do you think we ignore you? 
Hey, slortar, my compadre in white chocolate, I think we should grab some Lindt white chocolate truffles and dance around in viking hats together.
Could be fun.
[sub]Damn you all! I’ve never had one of them truffles, and now I need to make sure that I do![/sub]
Substitute Wintermute for Slortar there (sorry, Slort) and beyond the paganish Easter bonnets dance in the all-together and I’ll subsidize the event and do the videography myself. And not just because it might lead to an, erm, “fertilisation” ritual. That’s just bonus material.
Flight leaves in 8 hours… must maintain control and not let my Viking lust overwhelm me… I suddenly feel like Spock in that episode where he went into heat and had to kill Kirk
I want to see video of this - pics at the very least! 
True, but I did get the mother of all Lego sets for Christmas. So stick that in your Cylon helmet and, uh, Cylon it.
Ooh, I’ll have to try those. White chocolate varies in quality I’ve noticed. There’s the nasty white glonk kind, the grainy horror, and then there’s the rare pretty decent creamy goodness that discerning folk like scout, slortar and FCMom enjoy, I’m sure. That said, I still like darkest dark, bitter as sin chocolate. I blame my father, he’s the one got me started on licorice and horehound candy.
Slortar, I don’t think the Vikings had jellybeans either. It would be difficult to eat jellybeans in a Vikingish manner if Vikings never had jellybeans to eat. What kind of candy treats would a Viking eat, if a Viking did eat treats? I’m thinking some sort of sweetened, dried herring. On the other hand, you could just have fun with the idea and toss jellybeans around like Cookie Monster did when he went into a frenzy. Bless Cookie Monster, I learned all of my best table manners from him.
Wintermute, buy some new Easter clothes anyway! Ya have to look good on your way to the naked dancing about and --ahem-- in the woods. Shoes especially are very important, those forest floors aren’t carpeted you know, rabbit M&Ms everywhere.
Oh Taters, how I wish I were a gazillionaire! Naw, I’m just an apartment dweller (without the newest release from the Dwarf Apartment Chickens, even) and the ‘groundskeeper’ is just a guy in a baggy pair of overalls named Phil. Or Bill. It’s hard to tell because he mumbles. I would adopt you anyway, but that path leads to ruin and bad haircuts.
Speaking of which, boy do I need one. A good haircut, not a bad one. But that’s probably what I’m going to get because I’m trimming my bangs myself. My regular hair cutter type person had an emergency and you would not believe the epic game of phone tag we’re playing on the re-schedule. It’s now just two weeks till my next appointment and I’m just going to tough it out. In the meantime I look as though a curly blonde sheepdog is trying to sit on my head.
Looking back at this post, I think I need to study the definition of brevity a little more. It’s all y’all’s fault. Just too interesting a bunch by far.
Having a Cylon Helmet with the eye that lights up and scoots back and forth across the face would be cool, but I, personally, wouldn’t want one any more than I’d want a sombrero with Viking horns on it even though that sounds like a pretty cool hat, since I already have a pretty cool hat that, in my opinion, is even cooler than a horned sombrero which is an honest to goodness pith helmet which I got from the Army Surplus Store last week when I was out looking for a big pot to make stone soup in which I did find and bought along with my pith helmet, but not at the same place, which I won’t be wearing for any Easter Parade (neither the stone soup pot nor the pith helmet) not that I have anything against Easter Parades, it’s just i don’t know where any will be this year, which is the year that both Susan and I won’t be eating a Cadbury egg even though I like them just fine but I just don’t have a taste for them this year which is unusual in itself but is even more mysterious when you consider I only ate two packages of Peeps so far plus one rather small bag of jelly beans not counting the white ones and the black ones which I just don’t like even on a normal year so I just threw those ones away which seemed like a waste and you’re not supposed to waste food, but no one wanted them so I just threw them out.
-Rue. (choppy, huh?)
Jeez, Rue, take a breath my man!
Fantastic.
Now I won’t have to hear any more nonsense about you selling my soul for a date with one.
Rue, sweetie, try the decaf…
The scariest thing about all this?
We all understood him. :eek: 
In keeping with past tradition, it is now time for me to pop in here and seize on some trivial thing that someone else has posted and wander vaguely off in directions heretofore unknown.
So here goes:
Slortar, Vikings don’t say Yarrr, they say “Hnorf”. Pirates say “Yarrrr”. [sub] (That’s the seizing part)[/sub]
Speaking of pirates, did I ever tell you about when my cousin Barbara and some of her friends decided to be pirates?[sub](Here comes the wandering part)[/sub]
Well, my cousin Barbara, micknamed ‘Bar’, often hung around with four other girls named Barbara. All of whom were nicknamed ‘Bar’ also, except one, who only wanted to be addressed as Barbara. There’s always gotta be one, ya’ know?
Now, she, (my cousin, and the other Barbaras too, presumedly), knew people with other names too, you understand, but the idea of a whole gaggle(?), pod(?) whatever, of girls, all named Barbara, was just too much to resist I guess, so they hung around together a lot.
Anyway, as Mardi Gras was coming around, these five Barbaras decided to dress up as pirates and be a ‘crewe’. If it were Halloween, they’d just be a bunch of pirates, but seeing as how it was Mardi Gras time, they were a ‘crewe’.
Now, since they were all named Barbara, (nicknamed ‘Bar’), they coulda called themselves ‘The Dread Pirates Barbara’, (The Dread Pirates Bar doesn’t sound as good), except that The Princess Bride hadn’t been invented yet.
And except for Ann.
Ann was Annette, one of the Barbara’s sisters, the third Barbara I think, and Ann wanted to be a pirate too. She whined and wheedled and cajoled until the five Barbaras decided to let her in, thinking “We can’t call ourselves ‘The Dread Pirates Barbara’ anyway, cause The Princess Bride hasn’t been invented yet, so why not?” or something like that, I’m just guessing here. But, since they we’re only mostly named Barbara anyway, they decided they could be called ‘The Barbara-y Pirates,’ which worked out just fine. They even had a theme song, which went along with their names, and they would sing and do a little dance routine when they come into a room. They’d come in, and each girl would point to herself, and all the other girls would point to her too, (the one whose turn it was), as they sang, in order,
**
Bar, Bar, Bar, Bar, Barbara, Ann
Bar, Bar, Bar, Bar, Barbara, Ann**
It wasn’t very piratey, but it went over pretty well anyway.
It helped that they all wore low cut dresses, and bowed when it was their turn. No chocolate bras though.
Oh, And “Yarrr” means “All you wimmins line up over here.”
Except when it’s Viking wimmin (or Swampy) sayin’ it. Then it means * “all you hunky guys line up over here.”*
Bumb, that merits a flogging and a keel-hauling and a walk on the plank…
Pardon while I groan in agony…
Sorry, Shibb, I’m taken interface2x proposed a couple weeks ago, on account of my taste in music. So as soon as he moves to Canada (I think he’s from New Zealand) I’ll add him into my husbands.
I have four. Mr. Lissar, to whom I’m more or less really married in spite of the minister writing the wrong name on our wedding certificate, is husband Number One.
My friend Rowan, who has a car and comes over and eats our food all the time, he’s Husband Number Two Who Has A Car.
The second-best man at my wedding (he came up with the title) who kept hugging me and Mr. Lissar and saying things like, “Wow, I’m so glad the three of us will be together forever” is Husband Number Three Who Unfortunately Lives In Texas, Which Is Far Away.
Finally, I proposed to one of our other friends, Eric, when Eric cleaned my kitchen and did the dishes for me without me asking him to, and so he’s Number Four, Useful Husband.
I guess interface will be Number Five. I’ve got to think up a title for him.
Should this thread come back from the dead 3 days later?
[QUOTE=ShibbOleth]
Substitute Wintermute for Slortar there (sorry, Slort) and beyond the paganish Easter bonnets dance in the all-together and I’ll subsidize the event and do the videography myself. And not just because it might lead to an, erm, “fertilisation” ritual. That’s just bonus material.
[QUOTE]
Hm. Substitute, shmubstitute. Make it an addition. I’ll happily ritualize with anyone with bresticular protuberi.
“New Jersey”.
You can keep the shoes on, of course. leer
quickly grabs pencil and appointment book
Vikings were explorers. They were masters of handling new situations. I assume however they ate jellybeans, it would involve much broadsword waving. Maybe playing Yngwie Malmsteen loudly. Or Abba.
How about “Narf”? “Sven, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” “Uh, I think so, Olaf. Bearskin breechclouts chafe me so.”
For, for that one anyway, but I’ll probably sell your soul for the AT-AT or the Rebel Blockade Runner.
In fact, don’t take this the wrong way Ex old buddy, but there isnt’ a whole helluva lot that I wouldn’t sell your soul for. Twinkies, an Astro Pop, a chocolate viking hat with horns, a little box of peeps. Infact, just about any candy. Except for anything with malt in it. I’d have to have something to spice up the deal if all they were offering was a box of Whoppers or something. See? I’m always looking out for you, and all you can do is criticize me. Sniff. Sniff.
It’s nice to know you have my best interests at heart there, pal.
If I can’t trust some raging nutbar who is willing to condemn me to eternal damnation just to satisfy his perverse plastic building block fetish, then who can I trust?
Fercryinoutloud!!! welby, Exgineer, get a room!
Hey, Rue, I just found out that my daughter is on a soccer team with Chris Sabo’s daughter. I figure only somebody from Cincinnati could be even mildly interested in that. I don’t know too many Cinci-Celebs anyway, have no idea who the people are on local TV for instance or what the mayor looks like (it’s still Luken, right?)