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Dec. 6th, 2003
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2003 07:59 amSo, yeah. Deleted that first phone post, which was apparently me on mute. Blech. But at least the second one worked. Yay! Now I can stop bugging my friend at work who has the only internet connection. (I'll just pretend there's no such thing as email.)
Basically, it was me ranting. Between Captain Asshat and the people at the other end of the phone, I was surrounded by idjuts. Not even idiots, idjuts. Yesterday's pearl of wisdom from Captain Asshat:
CA: *singing "Oklahoma!"* Oklahoma, where the waving wheat smells sweet ...
Me: Uh, actually, it's "Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain".
CA: Oh, what, are you into show tunes?
Me: No, I was in chorus in high school and we had to sing that one year. *pause* You know, Hugh Jackman was in "Oklahoma".
CA: Wolverine? *in that aren't-only-gay-guys-in-musicals tone of voice*
Me: Yeah, it's called acting.
CA: *ignores me, goes back to humming the song* Ah, Sondheim.
Me: *resists the urge to mention "Oklahoma" is Rodgers and Hammerstein, and not Sondheim*
CA: You know, I met Sondheim once.
Me: And?
CA: *shocked that gets no reaction* You know, Stephen Sondheim.
Me: *wtf?!* Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you meant Joe Sondheim. *fakesquees*
I'd try to beat some sense into him, but why should I have to work to make him smarter?
But the people on the phone ... look, all I'm doing is asking them to verify their address. Just tell me where you live. Is that so hard? I keep expecting to ask someone where they are only for them to answer, "I don't know. I'm standing at a pay phone in the middle of nowhere and I can't remember who I am anymore! Help m--" Followed by a click and an ominous buzzing.
Oh, and yesterday I was listening to the radio and heard "Tom Cruise is in the Last Samurai this weekend", and suddenly there were porn and tabloids in my head and every single one of you has warped my fragile little mind. :)
Basically, it was me ranting. Between Captain Asshat and the people at the other end of the phone, I was surrounded by idjuts. Not even idiots, idjuts. Yesterday's pearl of wisdom from Captain Asshat:
CA: *singing "Oklahoma!"* Oklahoma, where the waving wheat smells sweet ...
Me: Uh, actually, it's "Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain".
CA: Oh, what, are you into show tunes?
Me: No, I was in chorus in high school and we had to sing that one year. *pause* You know, Hugh Jackman was in "Oklahoma".
CA: Wolverine? *in that aren't-only-gay-guys-in-musicals tone of voice*
Me: Yeah, it's called acting.
CA: *ignores me, goes back to humming the song* Ah, Sondheim.
Me: *resists the urge to mention "Oklahoma" is Rodgers and Hammerstein, and not Sondheim*
CA: You know, I met Sondheim once.
Me: And?
CA: *shocked that gets no reaction* You know, Stephen Sondheim.
Me: *wtf?!* Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you meant Joe Sondheim. *fakesquees*
I'd try to beat some sense into him, but why should I have to work to make him smarter?
But the people on the phone ... look, all I'm doing is asking them to verify their address. Just tell me where you live. Is that so hard? I keep expecting to ask someone where they are only for them to answer, "I don't know. I'm standing at a pay phone in the middle of nowhere and I can't remember who I am anymore! Help m--" Followed by a click and an ominous buzzing.
Oh, and yesterday I was listening to the radio and heard "Tom Cruise is in the Last Samurai this weekend", and suddenly there were porn and tabloids in my head and every single one of you has warped my fragile little mind. :)
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2003 01:17 pmToday in the car, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
qnotku was telling me about a slash writer we know who wrote a story with a character who had a four-foot erection.
My response? "But ... but then he could only date sword swallowers! Gay sword swallowers!"
Boy, his love life must suck. (And nothing else, without internal damage that requires an emergency room visit.)
qnotku was telling me about a slash writer we know who wrote a story with a character who had a four-foot erection.My response? "But ... but then he could only date sword swallowers! Gay sword swallowers!"
Boy, his love life must suck. (And nothing else, without internal damage that requires an emergency room visit.)
So while I'm spamming LJ anyway ...
Dec. 6th, 2003 01:38 pmLet's play "My Friends List: The Movie". Three questions ...
1. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on physical resemblance?
2. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on the similarity of their personality to yours?
3. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on having portrayed someone exactly like you in another movie, and which role was it?
EDIT: Just to answer my own meme, I'd go with Keira Knightley for #2, the guy who plays Tim on "The Office" for #3 (aside from being a guy, that's me every damn day), and Keegan Connor Tracy for #1. ( Especially in this picture ... )
1. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on physical resemblance?
2. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on the similarity of their personality to yours?
3. Which actor/actress plays you based entirely on having portrayed someone exactly like you in another movie, and which role was it?
EDIT: Just to answer my own meme, I'd go with Keira Knightley for #2, the guy who plays Tim on "The Office" for #3 (aside from being a guy, that's me every damn day), and Keegan Connor Tracy for #1. ( Especially in this picture ... )
Oh, good holy Jesus in bikini briefs and fishnet stockings, Hildi's actually going to put fucking feathers on the wall. I was living on the delusion that maybe she was just trying to spook more people into watching, but alas.
I can't watch. This is like The Exorcist of home improvement shows. First hay, then fake flowers, now feathers?! If I tune in next time only to find she's stapling dismembered kittens to the wall, I'm calling the proper authorities to have her locked up in a mental institution.
Or at least to have her goddamn weekend furlough privileges revoked so she can't do this show anymore.
*cowers under the couch*
*trembles*
I can't watch. This is like The Exorcist of home improvement shows. First hay, then fake flowers, now feathers?! If I tune in next time only to find she's stapling dismembered kittens to the wall, I'm calling the proper authorities to have her locked up in a mental institution.
Or at least to have her goddamn weekend furlough privileges revoked so she can't do this show anymore.
*cowers under the couch*
*trembles*
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2003 11:30 pmRegarding Hildi's feather-covered atrocity from tonight's episode of Trading Spaces, I apologize for borrowing a bit from both Dorothy Parker and L. Frank Baum when I say ...
This was not a decorating assignment to be tossed aside lightly. It should be dropped upon Hildi's thick skull from a considerable height by a rogue tornado so that she is squished by the weight of it and her scrawny chicken legs shrivel up from her incredibly non-sensible designer shoes.
Okay, I'm done.
This was not a decorating assignment to be tossed aside lightly. It should be dropped upon Hildi's thick skull from a considerable height by a rogue tornado so that she is squished by the weight of it and her scrawny chicken legs shrivel up from her incredibly non-sensible designer shoes.
Okay, I'm done.
