taxi, is anyone in your family going to ask you about the rings? Will they notice if you don’t wear them? If not, I say sell 'em and buy something you like. If the person you inherited them from loved you (or even liked you), they’d rather you be happy.
At least, that’s what I plan to tell myself in (hopefully) several more years–Grandma has informed me that she’s leaving me her mink stole. Like I need that. Grandma would rather know that someone who wanted the stole had it, and I had a new dvd player.
Of course, this is the same woman who promised me her wedding china several years ago when she died or I got married, whichever came first. Last year, I heard her promise it to my cousin Melissa, too. My grandma’s an Indian-giver. (Or is that Native-American-giver? Or shouldn’t it be white-man-giver, 'cause we’re the ones who broke our promises? Where did that phrase come from, anyway?)
Yes, but wouldn’t it be good to know those phrases in more than one language? That way, you can go to France or Italy, and you’ll fit right in!
picunurse, sorry about the gas. I hope they can figure out who did it.
taxi, I think you should take your rings to Antiques Roadshow! That would be tons of fun. You could keep your favorite one and sell the rest. Post pictures, and we’ll vote on which ones you should keep. I’d rather have a Kitchenaid mixer than a ring, so I’d probably sell them, unless there was one I really, really liked.
swampy, you have crossed, in my mind from Really Really Gay to normal. Because gay people are insane.
So I’m going to bed last night, when someone AIM’s me. It went something like “Hi, I saw your Yahoo profile.” I wanted to know how I knew them, and after a few minutes of effort, I find out that he goes to my school. Google yields nothing on his screenname. Won’t tell me his name. After more effort, “You can call me Marcus.” Well, I can call you a lot of things. Is your name Marcus? “Yes.”
So I’ve got a random guy whose name is Marcus, maybe, who goes to my school. I can’t mine any more information out of him. I then declare that I’m going to bed, and he can tell me who he is later. “How big’s your cock?” Here’s the rest of the AIM conversation:
guy: Ok I was teasing you, there’s no need to be mad.
Chaotic Donkey: the only way we’re discussing my penis is if you’ve already had intimate experience with it.
Chaotic Donkey: and if that’s true, there’s no need to discuss my penis.
guy: Well we can have one now if you want?
Chaotic Donkey: No. I don’t have sex with random people.
Chaotic Donkey: especially if I don’t even know who it is.
guy: I’m not as random as you think.
guy: However, I guess I will leave you alone.
Chaotic Donkey: Well, if your name is indeed Marcus, and I’ve met you, then you must indeed be Marcus Harvey.
Chaotic Donkey: However, I’ll never know for sure, so I’ll let you come to terms at your own pace with telling me who you are.
guy: Have it your way.
Chaotic Donkey: It isn’t exactly my fault that I don’t care to have sex with random people.
Chaotic Donkey: I’m not exactly a prude or anything.
Chaotic Donkey: I just requre more than a veiled AIM conversation.
bigsonicboom23: I am fine with your decision.
Chaotic Donkey: ok.
guy: I’ll just jack-off anyway.
Chaotic Donkey: ok. Try messaging me when you want to have a real conversation.
Chaotic Donkey: And you have fun with that.
guy: Will do.
Chaotic Donkey: good to see that we’ve reached an ac
Chaotic Donkey: cord.
Chaotic Donkey: Next time you see me, just introduce yourself or something
guy: Goodnight, well you have had your chance to meet me. Some opportunities only come once in a lifetime.
So I now have my 2nd gay stalker. (and you only have to deal with me, swampy!) I don’t know whether to be scared or excited. This is also the 5th (that’s a five) closeted gay person to email/message/call me in the last week. I have become the closeted mecca.
Well, it’s Tuesday and I just am now arriving in the MMP thread. I’ve only got two sets of sheets, but then, I just got the king size bed this year, and haven’t had time to Really Stock Up. I do, I am proud and snooty enough to note, own one set of 600 thread count sheets, and lemmee tell you they are* like satin!!* Mmmm creamy soft and delicious. But just months after purchasing these delights, I notice that there are available, in this country for a not-exorbitant price, 1,000 thread count sheets. 1,000! I can barely speak the words, it is so audacious. But I lust for them. Lust! for 1,000 thread count sheets!
Here is some fun. I’ve been enjoying it for two days now: National Geographic Wild Cam. This is a LIVE camera set up at a watering hole in Botswana. Mostly it is zebras and antelopes coming to drink. But yesterday I saw a crocodile leap up and EAT something. It was Nature Red in Tooth and Claw, baby. But mostly it’s peaceful bird and animal noises, cheeping and chirping in the background whilst I do my work. Watch now; it’ll soon be night in Botswana and very little action at the ole watering hole.
That’s exactly my thought - cool kitchen stuff is a lot more useful than a ring. I mean I like shiny, sparkly things, but shiny kitchen appliances do a heck of a lot more for you. Maybe this weekend I’ll take pix and post them for everyone to vote on.
Draelin, these aren’t even exactly entirely from my family. (It’s complicated.) So no, no one will notice if I don’t have/wear them.
Someone brought cider donuts in to work today! Oh boy, I’m going to have a sugar high! And now it feels like fall.
Purple would be good, but we still have some burgundy paint from painting the bedroom. We’ll probably use that if it hasn’t hardened up. We’ll paint them either today or tomorrow. We haven’t negotiated about who is painting them yet, because Mr. Lissar got home really late last night. So he doesn’t know that he’s going to.
I want 1000 thread count sheets.
I was once in Reisterstown, MD, and stopped at a 7-11 right next to the National Guard Mustering Ground, or whatever it’s called. It was like somebody had declared martial law at the convenience store.
I’m not usually one for a man in uniform, but for some reason, men in camo calling me “ma’am” made me very reluctant to get back in the car and drive away …
Just for the record, when I get called Ma’am my instinct is to throttle. I make an exception for military, simply because it’s not the Ma’am that means “Old Lady”.
I was called ma’am more times than I can count on Saturday. Way to go, ma’am! Why thank you.
I was about 22 at the time–it may have been the first time in my life I didn’t react badly to “ma’am.” In any other circumstance, “ma’am” seems to be code for “listen, bitch.”
But handsome members of the Armed Forces can call me “ma’am” all they want …
It’s a southern thang, ma’am. Don’t take it personally. I was physically threatend when we moved from DC to Atlanta (I was in fourth grade) and I didn’t call my teacher “ma’am”. Ever since then every woman over the age of 16 is “ma’am” in my book. I did get swatted by my mother (a California girl) for this a few times, but she’s not as mean as that teacher was, and she got used to it.
donkey, grasshopper, bear in training, I think you need to delete this perv’s screen name. Tell AIM, Yahoo, whatever you don’t want to here from this perv again. Heh. I probably have deleted 10 times as many names as I have actual friends on AIM and Yahoo. Some folks just ain’t worth your time.
I just ate some Maryland Fried Chicken. Perhaps I have discussed said fried chicken before but I can’t remember. It’s good. I just had me a hankerin’ for some today. The only other commercial fried chicken I ever get a hankerin’ for is KFC Original Recipe. When I jones that stuff nuttin’ else will do. Usually though, when I want fried chicken, I want my fried chicken. That’s the best.
s_f go buy more toilet paper. You can never have enough. I would think you would have learned this already young lady. :dubious:
I say Ma’am a lot. It really is a southern thang. I say it to wimmens of all ages. Store clerks and sales people seem to like it a lot. A “Thank You Ma’am” always gets a smile. Course scout would beat me up then disembowel me, so I need to remember that.
Taxi78cab i think you should sell them unless you really like them. The rings are a gift to you to do with as you wish. I’m guessing that it is because of their intrinsic value that you got them. After all, if they were worthless junk then they wouldn’t have been left to you would they?
MagicEyes that’s a really good point. Although i’m not sure the Italian tutor would be up for teaching me those new words. And as it was my kindly ‘friends’ who taught me my French vocabulary I think i’d be pretty much stuck for anything else to say in French. Which is soooooo important when you go to the Ambassador’s party yaknows
As of last night, Casa DeDay is in… a state of flux.
The good news is everyone is healthy and we’re not getting thrown out into the streets. So there’s that.
The bad news is I’m not sure when I’ll be able to pop in and post to the MMP, let alone start new ones. So, for the most part, you kids might be having to play nicely by yourselves.
Or not. Things could resolve themselves in a couple weeks. Or in a couple weeks after that. It’s up in the air right now.
And that’s all I got right now.
Love and mushy stuff,
Yer pal,
-Rue.
