This is why I love my friends so much...the ability to run with the craziest idea and make it funny and sick :)
LadySlinky> are you a vegetable terrian Violenta?
Violenta> I just partake of the green, man
Christoff> I hope it is from free range veggies
Violenta> dude, don't make me sad for the veggies
LadySlinky> I like mine bbq'd
Christoff> I like glazed baby carrots that are raised in cages.
Violenta> If I start feeling sad for the veggies, I shall have but one option left
LadySlinky> there really is veggie haggis!
Violenta> I hate people :)
LadySlinky> I had a reverend once that had that dilemma V
Irony> ally says he would be happy to eat people meat because people can give consent
Violenta> I like ally :)
LadySlinky> it only lasted about a week till she went back to being vegan.
Violenta> from being a cannibal?
LadySlinky> no she quit eating
Irony> thats silly, all fruits at least are tasty because the plants want animals to eat them
Violenta> yes, true, Irony! Well Said!
Irony> "Eat me! Shit out my seed somewhere nice kthx!"
Violenta> We are actually being manipulated by the plant when we eat its fruit
Violenta> the plants are using me!!!
LadySlinky> oh the wily plant
Irony> perhaps she didn’t want to think of herself as part of the sex cycle of a plant
Violenta admires Irony's sepals and gets a strap on stamen for later *eyebrow wriggle*
sarasvati> I'll foil those wily plants! I am potty trained!
Irony purrs and winks suggestively at Violenta
Violenta> oooh, if I don't shave my legs, I can luxuriate in your sticky pollen!
LadySlinky> you know that’s why mowers are so loud. to muffle the thousands of tiny little screams.
Christoff> omg plant porn
Violenta 's anther twitches
Irony> yes, the sounds of thousands of tiny grass voices screaming at the bad haircut they just recieved
sarasvati> boom chick-pea waa-wah
Christoff> I have an electric mower I have to wear ear plugs to keep from hearing the screaming
Irony> "Noooo I was trying to grow that outtttt!"
Christoff> long haired hippie grass
Irony> grass has a right to have an emo haircut dammit!
Violenta> I cut myself just to know that I groooowwwww *grass emo*
Irony> I dont cut grass because I simply can't be arsed
LadySlinky> I wish my grass was emo so it would cut itself
Violenta buzzes around Irony, eyeballing her nectar
Irony shivers her stem for Violenta
Violenta> okok...I'm done now
On 09:11:37 Nov 22 2007 Joli wrote:
Thank you for your breath. I shall treasure it always.
On 09:09:51 Nov 22 2007 Darkness79 wrote:
Very beautiful profile my lady, breath taking. I enjoyed my stay.
OK, at first I laughed at him. But dammit, he's right. It SHOULD be "humile." When I pointed out that the root of "humility" was "humble" and not the non-word, "humile" that he was attempting to play, he said, "That's crazy. If that's the case, the noun should be 'humbility.' "
But, hey, dude...your people started this crazy language!
He's so full of it! As soon as one game ends, he opens the next one! I think it's that he likes a a good beating!
Come back for more! I'll even give you all the "zeds." :)
I found this in his journal:
Being a total novice at this game and starting from a position of never having played before, to go up against an English major with years of experience was a mighty challenge.
Not that I don't like a woman of experience, but perhaps next time I'm asked to play, I may respond with...
"I'd love to, but I just can't be arsed."
Check the stars for horsemen!
Stabb beat me at Scrabble
(Literati on Yahoo)
His score: 258
I am still in shock that this actually took place.
We need better expletives and sayings in America. My new favorite comes from England via Stabb.
"can't be arsed"
I know it's probably impossible to imagine, but he has just the slightest of an attitude. He most often uses the phrase in a way like:
"Well, I'd like to help you, but I can't be arsed."
And you should hear the things he says when I beat him at Scrabble...and I do!!! (And boy is he going to love that I shared that.)
I broke out the sandwich grill for the first time last night and "white trashed" myself a grilled cheese.
I want to yell, "Well, what did you think would happen?!" But I don't. You don't stop telling...you tell and you tell and again I want to yell.
I want to yell that I need to get behind your story to the need, the real need. I can't help the story. I have to have that part you don't want to tell me, the dirty bits called "truth." Your whole life is about the missing piece and you don't even realize it.
Do you skirt the mirror over the sink and stand sideways as you brush your teeth in the morning, spitting with your eyes closed, all so you don't see? Or is this a show for me? "Look here! lots to see here...just don't look over there!"
And when you have taken my help...when you have taken my help and gone into your day, I notice that you don't look back. Do you even remember that you were here, drinking from my well? Did you think to look into the well before you made your wish?
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