I was never quite good at telling long, confusing stories, but once I start, I don’t think I can end.
The Electric Company, eh? I never watched that, seeing as I was in a cryogenic freezing chamber for a majority of the 1970s. First thing I knew when I woke up, my chamber was covered in Wacky Package stickers and a Pac-Man machine was built over it. How they did that, I’ll never know. But the people who built it over me were nice to me- they let me keep all the money. I was able to finally escape a couple years later when they took out the Pac-Man and replaced it with a Sinistar.
But anyway, I never watched The Electric Company. I think I was one of the stars of the short-lived spinoff, The Water Works, but it’s been so long, I’ve forgotten. I made most of my money pre- and post-freezing as a TV star. I’m very modest, though- I never use my real name, I go by Ponsonby Britt, O.B.E. Whenever someone asks to interview me, I send them a false biography of Ponsonby. Now that I think of it, that may have been someone else, since I don’t remember creating Cap’n Crunch.
I was actually a very big star in my day. I recently became famous again. I recently wrote a book about my career in television, but it ended up plagarizing an earlier book I wrote before I was frozen. Have you ever been sued by yourself? It’s an interesting experience. The case is still going on, I think.
I’d tell you some more about my career, but I’ll have to save that for later. I’m late for court.
Oddly enough, I do have clean socks. Two drawers full of 'em, in fact - one for pairs and one for unmatched ones. Now there’s something that will win a prize in the “Things You Didn’t Want to Know about Other Dopers but They Told You Anyway” contest. (Coming soon to a thread near you!)
And since you went to the trouble of thinking me up a motto, here’s my suggestion for a new user name for you: Sergeant Pepper. Make of that what you will.
This is for Ikujinashi. This is his motto, so keep your filthy paws off it you damned, dirty apes… er… sorry, I watched the Making of the Planet of the Apes last night on FOX. Anyway, just for Ikujinashi… “All I need is love. As long as the love comes from an International Underwear Model named Gretchen who has a real nice car.”
It has that certain Beatlesesque quality, ne c’est-pas? Loops back to deepbluesea, who I love more than Froot Loops™. That could mean I love her more than I love Froot Loops™, or it could mean that I love her more than Froot Loops™ loves her. “Make of that what you will.” The important thing is that there is deep, love and me, and Froot Loops™ all in the equation.
Which could be a nice motto with a little fixin’ up. Or a t-shirt. (See what I did there? I warped it back to FairyChatMom’s post. Clever huh?)
I feel I must mention mobo85. It would be rude to leave my good friend mobo85 out. Don’t want hurt feelings. And if you left him out he might spoil. “Refridgerate after opening” that’s what it says on his forehead. Hmmmm… didn’t ask for a motto, so can’t go that cheesey route. Not a hot Doper chick, so empty flirting wouldn’t really be my bag. Ah! Empty compliment! Yeah! mobo85 you have the nicest screen name using two O’s and a couple digits I’ve seen since Hector was a pup.
I really envy… no, not “envy”… “pity”?.. no… “respect”?.. yeah I’ll go with “respect”…
I really respect people who can think linearly. Not all in loops and bumps and backtracking and stuff. People who can see a problem. Make a plan. Carry out said plan. Go on with their lives. They have my respect.
Me? I see a problem. Make a plan. Think about how tastey a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup™ would be right now. I get them from Sam’s Club. In the BIG bag. The bag so big you go “H’grupff!” when you pick it up. That is one big-assed bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups™. The real ones are generally much better than the off-brands. Not counting the ones someone’s Mom makes. Those are good too. Mostly because someone’s Mom made them. The regular off-brand ones you get in the store just aren’t as good.
Speaking of off-brands… Are ther any off-brands of waxed paper. Not cooking parchment, or other “Martha Stewart™” crap. Waxed paper. Cut-Rite waxed paper. That’s all I ever see. Even at Thriftway. They have their own brand of aluminum foil (don’t start Francesca), but only Cut-Rite waxed paper. Not that I’m complaining. Cut-Rite is one darned good waxed paper.
And artificial hearts. You don’t have a plethora of artificial hearts to choose from. Not that this comes up often. But really, are we in Russia? “You need artificial heart? Must take this one. Is all we got.” Really.
Something else I thought they only made one of is those cute little alcohol stoves I got for camping. Then I found out there’s like two companies that make 'em. You just can’t get the other company’s product here in the States.
You have a choice of Swiss Army Knives. The “Official” and the “Original”. They both have the Swiss contract to produce knives for the Army, so they are both “real”. But you have a choice. That’s my point. (The “Original” is better, by the way.)
Speaking of camping esoterica… I want to know what this one thingy is called. If I knew what it’s called, I could find one. It’s this little wheely dealy attached to a handle. You run it over your maps and it tells you how far things are. Not like magically. You have to trace the trail, or road, or river and this thingy will tell you how many inches it is, then you check the scale and figure how far things are. It’s like the big wheel-on-a-stick that surveyors or construction guys use. (I don’t know what that’s called either.) Only it’s little. Hand-held size. What’s that called?
Oh, and jr8, my Sugar-Doodle Francesca is not a bee shaver. She’s a bunny rumbler. You can use the bee tranquilizer however you see fit.
-Rue.
No, no, no, jr8 is my personal bee shaver. He lives in my cupboard and I take him out when i require his bee-shaving services. But i’ve never sicced him on Bumbazine because he is clearly a bee who runs a fanzine for other bees and I’ve been hoping that that fanzine is all about the glories of shaving and runs ads of teeny tiny electric razors.
I’ve never had a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup™. The mixture of chocolate and peanut butter scares me. It seems so wrong - chocolate and peanut butter. Chocolate and peanut butter? Chococlate and… peanut butter.
Rue - I am, as ever, your humble noodly-wimple. May I be rewarded with a shiny new motto? I like shiny things. I think you should do mottos even when people don’t ask for them. Everyone secretly wants one. They told me. All of them. And I told them to go home and play with their children.
Wow. A wheel dealy that you use to mearsure maps is… a… map measure wheel.
Frannie I metaphorically bow down and grovel at your feet. If you were metaphorically wearing a loose, flowing, not-too-long skirt. If you were metaphorically not wearing underwear, that would be better. If I was metaphorically not married and happened to be, metaphorically, in England, specifically, metaphorically, wherever you happened to be, and you were not, metaphorically, wearing any underwear, and you found me, metaphorically, comely…THAT would be better. Metaphorically.
I call you “Frannie” because I just feel we are close. I’d call you “Puddin’ Pie” if you wanted. And I respect you as a person.
Your shiney new motto: “If it hurts, you ain’t doin’ it right. If it still hurts the second time, try more lubrication. Like WD-40. Or bacon grease.”
It’s a long motto. We might be able to take it back in the shop and shorten it some. No charge.
If you need a loaner motto: “More wonton here, garçon.”
-Rue. (like you couldn’t tell.)
Are you sure all those socks are still clean? I’m not trying to start trouble. Or cause anyone grief. Are you sure your sock drawer (A or B) is still, how shall I say this, undefiled. Not naming any names, but looking around, I think I might be seeing someone who has an unhealthy interest in socks. Especially unmatched women’s socks. It called “The Lambchop Syndrome.”
I think I’ve said enough here.
-Rue.
P.S. I like it when people put their names at the bottom of their posts. Like I do. I stole this from other people on the Board. It let’s you know who posted the post you just read. I know you could look over at see who posts each post before you start reading each post. But I don’t remember to do that. So the name at the end of the post is nice.
Using a sig is nice too. But it takes up some of the server’s resources. And if you keep changing your sig to keep it fresh and exciting, it doesn’t identify you very well.
Having other Doper’s names emboldened is nice too. I sure would like to see my name emboldened in a “Fave Doper” thread sometime. But the shock would probably kill me. Maybe we shouldn’t take too many chances. (New motto alert) Better to be safe than popular. (Really only a good motto for unpopular freaks.)
(A better motto for unpopular freaks) Better to be an unpopular freak than Ulysses S. Grant. 'Cause he’s dead.
(still)-Rue.
Rue, ol’ buddy ol’ pal, if you’re too lazy to scan your eyes up a bit when you’re finished reading my posts, they will simply have to be anonymous, y’know? I will not enable - or ennoble - sloth, my friend.
(Suggested motto: Rue DeDay - Napping on the edge of the Laziness Event Horizon.)
And, yes, all my socks in those drawers are clean. I have other socks, the ones in the hamper, that are dirty. (And what is this Lambchop Syndrome of which you speak?) As for the aspersions you’ve cast about people who are a little too fond of unmatched women’s socks, weeeeeeelll, you know what they say about people who protest too much? That’d be you. And I can just imagine what you do with singular socks, you sicko.
(Suggested motto: Rue DeDay - At this point, even socks are lookin’ mighty fine.)
Moving on to other topics: Rue, you are welcome to use my name, your name, and love in a sentence. (For example, “deepbluesea, I, Rue DeDay, just love your socks” would be a good use.) But link me to Froot Loops at your peril.
(Suggested motto: Rue DeDay - Mockery and Froot Loops! My favorite!)
**
And just to keep you on your toes, and to continue the fine tradition, let me point out that there should be a question mark after the fourth sentence up there, and an apostrophe-ess after the It in the last one. We won’t even speak of fragments.
(Suggested motto: Rue DeDay - Of kourse I know how to spel and stuff. I’m only makin this errors as a blatant ploy to git yer attenshun.)
I always put my sig in Tupperware to keep it fresh and exciting. And if burping Tupperware keeps the contents fresh for longer, does burping [yourself] keep the contents of your stomach fresh for longer? And would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
Also, my sig doesn’t identify me very well anyway – it just sits them on the screen, looking at me with its beady little i’s. That’s gratitude for you.
Sorry, Franbo, but I had to move out of the cupboard to make room for those Laura Ashley dresses you were hiding. (Suggested motto: “Francesca the Iron Twinkie: soft and sweet on the inside, hard as nails on the outside, and likely to break your teeth.” Okay, maybe that’s not a very good motto.)
Speaking of otters, I always thought otters were a type of Pokemon. They just swim around, eat shellfish, and say “Otter otter, otter otter otter. Otter!” Or did I?
Today is just a Red Letter Day. Or it would be if the Board came in colors. Technically, that makes it a Regular Old Black Letter Day, but a good one none-the-less.
Not only do I get a mention in a “Flirt Thread”, but I get not one, not two, but four potential mottos flung my way (Also jr8 is mottoing on his own). Life is so good. It could be as many as five mottos for me if Frannie-pants Puddin’ Pie wants to share.
I was all wet with “The Lambchop Syndrome”. It is properly known as “Lamb Chop Dysfunction Disorder”. It got re-named about three months ago. Just goes to show, you miss one issue of the New England Journal of Mental Health, you miss a whole bucket load.
Speaking of missing a whole bucket load… jr8… is that “Junior 8”, “J Rate”, “J R 8” or “Barn Swallows Are Your Friends, But Don’t Expect Them To Carpool Because They Are Self-centered Bastards, One And All”? I’m not too hip to all this too-cool-for-school computer-ese jive. I’m just an old L7 from Squaresville.
Surfin’ the “edge of the Laziness Event Horizon.”
Yer pal.
-Rue. (and dig that crazy post count. I know it’s not a competition, but By Cracky, I’m looking at a nice, round 500. Coming soon to a Message Board near you.)
Well, Rue, my dear (and you are a dear) - I decided that you would be the target of my 1600th post, because you are the first to ever offer me a motto of my very own. If I was not old and grouchy and set in my ways and settled into my comfortable life, well, I’d be someone else entirely. But I’d still think you were a dear.
Warmest personal regards,
FairyChatMom
Signing this post just for you [sub]but it’s not likely to become a trend with me
Well, Rue, I’ve seen the girl in the gift shop. That’s why I’ve been in the gift shop all this time instead of out here schmoozing with you guys. Have you ever thought of putting a French maid’s outfit on her? We could use FairyChatMom’s. I think she’s heartily sick of it. Speaking of which, of course you can have more than one friend FCM, that was merely what is called a ‘set-up’, being a line to add context to the supposedly funny line to follow. You probably wouldn’t have been confused if the line to follow had actually been funny.
BTW, I am not a bee, nor have I ever sold drugs to bees. That whole idea is just silly. Bees don’t have money. Where would they carry it? Besides, I’d look ridiculous standing on a street corner whispering to passing bees, *“Bzzzzt, wanna buy some primo uncut pollen? Just in from Kona.” * Anyway, I think I’ve droned on long enough. Not that this isn’t a honey of a thread, but I feel that I’ve bumbled about enough for one day.
Oh and ** Ikujinashi,** yes it is wrong to walk into a hospital and pretend to be a doctor, but the physical exams are a lot of fun. Welcome to the boards.
[sub]Everybody ought to have a maid, everybody ought to have a working girl….[/sub]
jr8 can be pronounced “jay arr eight”, “junior eight”, “gyrate”, or “Throat-Warbler-Mangrove”. Any other pronunciations may result in substantial fines, prison sentence, or confusion by me trying to figure out who you’re talking about.
It’s funny you should mention maids. No reason: it’s just that maids make me laugh. It must be the feather dusters. I was talking to Neil Young the other day, and he said, “I was thinkin’ that maybe I’d get a maid, find a place nearby for her to stay. Just someone to keep my house clean, fix my meals and go away. A man needs a maid.” And then I kicked him in the teeth. Sexist jerk. A Southern man don’t need him 'round anyhow.
FairyChatMom, you? Old and grouchy? No, no, no. The bloom of youth is still glowing upon your dewy cheeks. You are the very epitome of feminine beauty. The angels themselves weep to be compared to you. Your voice is more fulfilling than bread, meat and wine. The simple thought of you makes my heart swell, and then I have to sit down to avoid public embarrassment. Unless I’m wearing a kilt, or have an armload of books to hold in front of me.
(Jeeves, Carina, deepbluesea, and Puddin’ Pie, the same thing to all of you, too.)
I’m assuming Jeeves is a girl. She talks about her boyfriend. Run that through the Rue DeDay Make-An-Assumption-About-People Filter™ and I just figure she’s a “she”. If not, forget it. I don’t compliment boys like this. Unless they have a hot ass.
So, back to “the same thing to all of you, too.”
(Add on for Jeeves: and you look really hot in your bowler. The way you know just what to do in any circumstance makes me all steamy.
Add on for Carina: we won’t get too specific, but it have to do with caramel sauce and thigh nibbling.
Add on for deepbluesea: the way you correct me so pedagogicly, I find that sexy.
Add on for Francesca: you may be my Puddin’ Pie, but you’ve still got a right cross the could break a longshoreman’s jaw as you stomp his heart into mush. In the good way.)
I hate flirt threads, don’t you? They lack all traces of decorum and good taste. Good thing this is more of a “Cocktail Party Thread.” You can drop any bon mot you want. Says it’s the booze talking. Just don’t stain the carpet. OK?
Bumbazine, I tried the French Maid route on her. Debbie in the Gift Shop didn’t go for it. She’d smack people with her feather duster if there got on her nerves. Not in the good way either.
Making a mental note on the proper pronunciation of jr8 right now. Don’t want any trouble here, buddy.
This weekend, while you are all out at your local house of worship lighting a candle for Tech God Jerry you might want to stop at a restaurant for dinner. As long as it’s not a restaurant where you can “Super Size” your meal, and you have to talk to the Girl Behind The Podium, tell her your name is “Donner”. “Chris Donner” works for both boys and girls, but you can be creative on the first name. Anyway, you tell her your name is “Donner”, and you tell her you have more people in your group than there really are. If it’s just you and your SO, tell her you need seating for 3. If it’s a double date before you go bowling, for example, tell her there are 5 or 6 of you. You get the picture.
When your name gets called- “Donner, party of 6.”- you get to tell her “There’s only 4 of us now, we won’t need appitizers.” Oh, man! Restaurant Humor! It never gets old.
-Rue. (So you know who I am without backing this thread up. It could jackknife on you, so watch it, buddy.)
My new motto apparently is: Do not disappoint the pedagogically - not to mention typographically and compositionally - challenged. But frankly, Rue, I no longer appreciate the many opportunities you give me for correction. I’m starting to get this unfortunate mental image of myself.
In said image, I’m a spinisterish woman who wears twinsets and glasses attached to a chain. I keep my hair up in a firmly restrained (but not with hairspray or anything - with discipline and will power) bun, I eschew makeup and nylons and open-toed shoes, and I have both a pencil (freshly sharpened) and a pen (capped, to avoid marks) on my person at all times. (In fact, probably at least one of said writing utensils is stored in the bun.) And, of course, my Sole Mission in Life is to correct others - quietly, but firmly and devastatingly. My conversation consists of three key sentences: “I think, if you refer to [reference book], you’ll find that the proper [spelling/meaning/grammar/usage/etc.] is [as appropriate].” “That is wholly incorrect, I’m sorry to say.” And, of course, “There will be absolutely none of that!”
I am not like this.
I hope.
So it is resolved: the board will reopen to a new, improved deepbluesea - one who does not correct. Perhaps I will nod supportively. Perhaps I will mock cruelly. Perhaps I will engage in bitter, incoherent diatribes against Injustice, Infidels, and Incorrect Change. But I will no longer point out errors in the spelling and grammar of others.
[sub]Well, except when I simply can’t help myself.[/sub]
(New suggested motto: Rue DeDay - Twisting and distorting the self-images of women everywhere. Apply now and get a stereotypical costume thrown in! No catch! Absolutely free!)
deep baby, snooky, sweet-ums, bunnikins, honey butt, don’t change. Please, don’t ever change. I love you just the way you are. The whole “…bloom of youth… dewy cheeks… epitome of feminine beauty… angels weeping… bread, meat and wine… heart swelling… public embarrassment…” thingy, that was for you too. Really. You are the pinacle of perfection, and one hot tomato to boot. I see you as Bettie Page with a red pen. When you fix up my posts, why, I just see that as proof you care. Proof that you love me in just a tiniest of ways. Proof that you return even the merest fraction of my unbridled, burning, all-consuming love for you.
If you want to go the twin set and open-toed shoe route, fine by me. No bun though. I see you in a tumbling cascade of sensuous locks. A smoldering look in your intelligent eyes. Librarian Porn if you will. Not the cheap, tawdry, common porn either. High class, artistic porn with good lighting and flattering camera angles.
(Suggested motto for deepbluesea: Nothin’ says lovin’ like me correcting your horrid usage and pathetic grammar.)
I see you not as an overbearing harridan, but as the sweet soul you are, trying despiratedy, vainly, to lift me out of the muck of my existance, and place me nearer to the lofty plane of your exalted realm.
-Rue. (humbly, with feeling)
Okay, Rue, I wasn’t going to point this out before, because of my Newfound Goodness, but you’ve convinced me to discard that (although I have to say that nearly two hours of goodness is my all-time personal best). Hence, I’m going to go ahead with the previously scheduled comments - although I’ll be gentle, because I’ve realized you simply can’t help yourself.
Rue honey, I can see there’s quite a number of things you were never told. You display a consistent pattern of ignorance, if you will, that bespeaks a woeful gap in your education. I want you to know that you aren’t to blame. You probably never even knew that your father was supposed to take you aside, on the night before your wedding if not sooner, and have a little talk with you, so it certainly isn’t your fault that he didn’t. But you definitely need to know these things. So I’m just going to fill you in - non-judgementally, of course - as the need arises. (After a few lessons, you’ll realize there’s the potential for a humorous pun in that last sentence. For now, though, just take it at face value.)
Today’s lesson: I don’t know where you took biology, sweetie, but that thing you refer to in the above paragraph is definitely not your heart. Your heart is located a foot or two higher. Forum rules prevent me from telling you what the supposed ‘heart’ actually is, so let me just suggest that in the future you refer to it as Mr. Beau Dangles. Everyone will know what you mean.
(Next time, I’m going to explain to you why you don’t call a woman, especially one you don’t know, ‘honey butt.’ In the meantime, though, I’ll take it in the spirit in which I suspect it was meant.)
The simple thought of you makes my heart swell, along with other things, and then I have to sit down to avoid public embarrassment, for reasons we won’t go into here because they are forbidden by good taste and proper social ettiquette.
If this thread got turned into a Hollywood feature film, who would play you? I figure they’d get John Goodman for me. Harry Anderson hasn’t been working too much lately, so he’d probably work cheap. Collin Mochrie in a bad wig is as low as I’d allow.
New motto hot outta the Motto-O-Matic (mark IV): Always go before you go. You never know when you’ll find a clean toilet next.
jr8… Rue DeDoe! Ha! You must be channeling George Bernard Shaw. Capital just my good fellow, capital. (I didn’t spit on the monitor or anything, but I did snort really loudly. The laugh kind of snort, not the snort of derision.)
-Rue.