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Dear customers:
I couldn't help but notice that you were lined up in front of the store at seven thirty this morning.
We do not not open until eight o'clock.
You just wasted a half hour that could have been spent having mind-blowing, nerve-sizzling, every-page-of-the-Kama-Sutra-three-times-before-breakfast sex because you thought you needed a pound of shaved turkey.
You go home and you think about that.
Cranky as always,
Me
P.S.: You could also have been watching Powerpuff Girls reruns. Which is still pretty good.
I bought Fight Club today.
The blurb on the back says:
A ticking-time-bomb insomniac and a slippery soap salesman channel primal male aggression into a shocking new form of therapy. Their concept catches on, with underground "fight clubs" forming in every town- until a sensuous and mysterious woman comes between the two men and ignites an out-of-control spiral toward oblivion.
That is a phenomenally shitty blurb, I think. Who writes the things? Is there someone specifically employed to write blurbs, or do they just let the janitor watch the first five minutes and scribble a synopsis onto a used paper towel?
If it's a specific job I definitely think that's what I should do for a living. Let's see how good I am at it:
So there's this guy (Edward Norton, who really reminds me of what would've happened if Jonathan and Andrew had a baby) and he can't sleep. He meets another guy (Brad Pitt, who is not nearly as good-looking as you think he is) and they kick the shit out of each other. This proves to be fun, and they teach other people to kick the shit out of each other. And Helena Bonham Carter shows her boobs. Plus SEKRIT PLOT TWIST!!1!!
I like mine better.
The government on Friday put off its long-awaited final decision on whether to sell emergency contraception without a prescription, saying the pill was safe to sell over-the-counter to adults but grappling with how to keep it out of the hands of young teenagers.
Because God knows teenagers never need emergency contraception, ever. *fond memories of friends' pregnancy scares*
A girl I work with (this one) has renamed me Oliver and decided that we should become terrorists.
No, I don't know why either.
The other night I discovered what it's like to feel adolescent. I've been an adolescent for three years (by my reckoning) so you'd think I'd've made this discovery before. But no.
It feels prickly and unpleasant, mostly. In case you'd forgotten, or haven't gotten there yet.
Also: wanty wanty wanty.
ETA: LABYRINTH MANGA. *bigflail!*
I couldn't help but notice that you were lined up in front of the store at seven thirty this morning.
We do not not open until eight o'clock.
You just wasted a half hour that could have been spent having mind-blowing, nerve-sizzling, every-page-of-the-Kama-Sutra-three-times-before-breakfast sex because you thought you needed a pound of shaved turkey.
You go home and you think about that.
Cranky as always,
Me
P.S.: You could also have been watching Powerpuff Girls reruns. Which is still pretty good.
I bought Fight Club today.
The blurb on the back says:
A ticking-time-bomb insomniac and a slippery soap salesman channel primal male aggression into a shocking new form of therapy. Their concept catches on, with underground "fight clubs" forming in every town- until a sensuous and mysterious woman comes between the two men and ignites an out-of-control spiral toward oblivion.
That is a phenomenally shitty blurb, I think. Who writes the things? Is there someone specifically employed to write blurbs, or do they just let the janitor watch the first five minutes and scribble a synopsis onto a used paper towel?
If it's a specific job I definitely think that's what I should do for a living. Let's see how good I am at it:
So there's this guy (Edward Norton, who really reminds me of what would've happened if Jonathan and Andrew had a baby) and he can't sleep. He meets another guy (Brad Pitt, who is not nearly as good-looking as you think he is) and they kick the shit out of each other. This proves to be fun, and they teach other people to kick the shit out of each other. And Helena Bonham Carter shows her boobs. Plus SEKRIT PLOT TWIST!!1!!
I like mine better.
The government on Friday put off its long-awaited final decision on whether to sell emergency contraception without a prescription, saying the pill was safe to sell over-the-counter to adults but grappling with how to keep it out of the hands of young teenagers.
Because God knows teenagers never need emergency contraception, ever. *fond memories of friends' pregnancy scares*
A girl I work with (this one) has renamed me Oliver and decided that we should become terrorists.
No, I don't know why either.
The other night I discovered what it's like to feel adolescent. I've been an adolescent for three years (by my reckoning) so you'd think I'd've made this discovery before. But no.
It feels prickly and unpleasant, mostly. In case you'd forgotten, or haven't gotten there yet.
Also: wanty wanty wanty.
ETA: LABYRINTH MANGA. *bigflail!*
no subject
on 2005-08-28 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2005-08-28 01:27 am (UTC)DO IT DO ITDO NOT DO THAT RAE. THAT WOULD BE A BAD BAD THING TO DO. SO DON'T DO IT.
no subject
on 2005-08-28 04:30 am (UTC)You now have me planning out the fic you wicked, wicked person. You've excited my plotbunnies, and I am helpless at their evil paws!Of COURSE I would never do such a thing. Mpreg is wrong, and gross. It goes against everything I stand for as a conservative Christian, and my hubby would not approve. Only I shall be barefoot and pregnant, for I am woman and that is all I am good for. Never, never shall we insinuate making the menfolk carry the all important baybeez!!
no subject
on 2005-08-28 04:33 am (UTC)MWAHAHAHA.I am glad you have learned your place, you sinful woman. NOW FETCH ME A SANDWICH. MY MAN-STOMACH IS A-RUMBLIN'.
no subject
on 2005-08-28 05:26 am (UTC)Ima poison your sammitch. Oppressor.Yes, master. *bows* If it would please your, sir, I could also felliate you after dinner.