Today: the origin of the kinkydink.
Thanks to everyone who told me to post my anon porn yesterday! I feel so liberated! I threw off the shackles of anonynuyu….of anonynomiti-fuck it. I threw off the yoke of anon-fuck. What does one do in moments like this? Rely on spell check? Throw in the towel? Help me out here, Prodigy!
The Prodigy: I got da poison, I got the remedy!
Good! Lay it on me!
The Prodigy: I got the pulsating rhythmical remedy.
And?
The Prodigy: I got da poison! I got da poison!
…
1. emquilxy is in big shit because she got a kitten and didn’t tell me. DID NOT TELL ME. See that shit at your feet? It's fucking huge.
2. THE POLL: Apparently, only 6/38 of us say L-O-L CAT. ALL OF YOU CAN BITE ME. THIS POLL WAS SKEWED. THE DATUM ARE…EXTRAPOLATED TO THE SLIDING SCALE OF THE BELL CURVE OF THE BELL JAR AND….WHATEVER--EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
3. My first kink_bingo (Tales from the TARDIS stripper pole!) is three pages long. Jesus. AND IT'S NOT IN THE LINE THAT I HAVE TO USE. DAMN YOU, reddwarfer! ::shakes fist:: Also? I wrote the watersports. And it is AWESOME.
4. Also, I have decided that any story 500 words or less that centers on a kink is called a 'kinkydink.' You know you love it.
5. I HAD THE PEAR DREAM AGAIN.
6. I ate lunch yesterday at the Cheesecake Factory (snippy, there IS such a thing as a free lunch! I didn't pay!), and let me tell you. Fifteen bucks to too much to pay for a plate of penne. I'm just saying. I'm sure this is an important tell about me, because all you people in the big cities are rolling your eyes and saying, "Amand-r, in Soviet Russia where I live, that's how much it costs to get a slurpee." WELL, LET ME TELL YOU. IT'S TOO MUCH, I SAY.
It is, however, not too much to pay for a really good cup of coffee. Alas, a good cup of coffee is too much to ASK for at the factory in which they make cake of cheese. And NO, I ordered no cheesecake. When the waitress came at the end of the meal and offered us the cheesecake menu, we sort of shook our heads and said, 'no thank you,' and I think our waitress froze. I had to open her up in the back, CTRL+ALT+DEL, and shut down cheesecakepushing.exe, because it was operating at like, 900,008K. But that seemed like an essential part of her OS, because then she shut down, and I had to reboot her in Safe Mode. After that she was okay, but her face was REALLY BIG.
I'll tell you what, when you manage to put Sriracha in cheesecake, THEN I'll order it at 67 dollars a slice. GOLD COVERED Sriracha cheesecake served to me by taint-licking virgins or something.
I am so very cheap. And apparently, incredibly offensive.
7. YOUR FULL METAL JACKET MOMENT OF THE DAY:
Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Private Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Private Joker: "Born to Kill", sir.
Pogue Colonel: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?
Private Joker: No, sir.
Pogue Colonel: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you.
::NODS:: Sound advice, sir.
8. THE FOLLOWING CONVERSATION TOOK PLACE LAST NIGHT, TRUFAX. NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT.
Amand-r: Richard is very tightly wound. I bet he and Kate do it in the dark, missionary.
Lola: I have no idea what goes on with them. They've done more than they let on. But Rich is fiercely private about that. Unlike Bob.
Amand-r: I imagine Katie in a corset, all gussied up with velvet ribbons. I bet she makes Richard lick between her toes while all that hair of hers is piled up in her head. And she has a riding crop. Did you know that's called a quirt?
Lola: Actually I think I did. I have no idea what toys or costumes they have. Like I said, they're not very open about it.
Amand-r: We should send them something.
Lola: Bob manages to weasel info outta him though. Let's send them Bob. :-) Actually, I have no idea what we should send them.
Amand-r: WE SHOULD SEND THEM BOB. WITH A BALL GAG AND CARE AND FEEDING INSTRUCTIONS.
I can see Rich using him as a living footstool.
I have to stop this.
My friends are not sexual furniture.
Lesson of the day: YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT SEXUAL FURNITURE. UNTIL THEY SHOW UP IN BODY LATEX AND SAY, "OH HAI, CAN I BE YOUR CHAIR TONITE?"
SHOULD THIS OCCUR: you have a few things to think about, such as, 'Does this weird me out?' or 'Well, s/he looks sturdy, but can s/he recline my feet?' and 'Why does latex always have that new car smell?' Also good to think about are 'Has s/he peed lately?' and 'Will s/he want a snack later? I have some of those frozen teriyaki wings from Schwan's….'
9. I now suspect that I am out of things to say.
The Prodigy: I got da poison, I got the remedy!
Good! Lay it on me!
The Prodigy: I got the pulsating rhythmical remedy.
And?
The Prodigy: I got da poison! I got da poison!
…
1. emquilxy is in big shit because she got a kitten and didn’t tell me. DID NOT TELL ME. See that shit at your feet? It's fucking huge.
2. THE POLL: Apparently, only 6/38 of us say L-O-L CAT. ALL OF YOU CAN BITE ME. THIS POLL WAS SKEWED. THE DATUM ARE…EXTRAPOLATED TO THE SLIDING SCALE OF THE BELL CURVE OF THE BELL JAR AND….WHATEVER--EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
3. My first kink_bingo (Tales from the TARDIS stripper pole!) is three pages long. Jesus. AND IT'S NOT IN THE LINE THAT I HAVE TO USE. DAMN YOU, reddwarfer! ::shakes fist:: Also? I wrote the watersports. And it is AWESOME.
4. Also, I have decided that any story 500 words or less that centers on a kink is called a 'kinkydink.' You know you love it.
5. I HAD THE PEAR DREAM AGAIN.
6. I ate lunch yesterday at the Cheesecake Factory (snippy, there IS such a thing as a free lunch! I didn't pay!), and let me tell you. Fifteen bucks to too much to pay for a plate of penne. I'm just saying. I'm sure this is an important tell about me, because all you people in the big cities are rolling your eyes and saying, "Amand-r, in Soviet Russia where I live, that's how much it costs to get a slurpee." WELL, LET ME TELL YOU. IT'S TOO MUCH, I SAY.
It is, however, not too much to pay for a really good cup of coffee. Alas, a good cup of coffee is too much to ASK for at the factory in which they make cake of cheese. And NO, I ordered no cheesecake. When the waitress came at the end of the meal and offered us the cheesecake menu, we sort of shook our heads and said, 'no thank you,' and I think our waitress froze. I had to open her up in the back, CTRL+ALT+DEL, and shut down cheesecakepushing.exe, because it was operating at like, 900,008K. But that seemed like an essential part of her OS, because then she shut down, and I had to reboot her in Safe Mode. After that she was okay, but her face was REALLY BIG.
I'll tell you what, when you manage to put Sriracha in cheesecake, THEN I'll order it at 67 dollars a slice. GOLD COVERED Sriracha cheesecake served to me by taint-licking virgins or something.
I am so very cheap. And apparently, incredibly offensive.
7. YOUR FULL METAL JACKET MOMENT OF THE DAY:
Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Private Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Private Joker: "Born to Kill", sir.
Pogue Colonel: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?
Private Joker: No, sir.
Pogue Colonel: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you.
::NODS:: Sound advice, sir.
8. THE FOLLOWING CONVERSATION TOOK PLACE LAST NIGHT, TRUFAX. NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT.
Amand-r: Richard is very tightly wound. I bet he and Kate do it in the dark, missionary.
Lola: I have no idea what goes on with them. They've done more than they let on. But Rich is fiercely private about that. Unlike Bob.
Amand-r: I imagine Katie in a corset, all gussied up with velvet ribbons. I bet she makes Richard lick between her toes while all that hair of hers is piled up in her head. And she has a riding crop. Did you know that's called a quirt?
Lola: Actually I think I did. I have no idea what toys or costumes they have. Like I said, they're not very open about it.
Amand-r: We should send them something.
Lola: Bob manages to weasel info outta him though. Let's send them Bob. :-) Actually, I have no idea what we should send them.
Amand-r: WE SHOULD SEND THEM BOB. WITH A BALL GAG AND CARE AND FEEDING INSTRUCTIONS.
I can see Rich using him as a living footstool.
I have to stop this.
My friends are not sexual furniture.
Lesson of the day: YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT SEXUAL FURNITURE. UNTIL THEY SHOW UP IN BODY LATEX AND SAY, "OH HAI, CAN I BE YOUR CHAIR TONITE?"
SHOULD THIS OCCUR: you have a few things to think about, such as, 'Does this weird me out?' or 'Well, s/he looks sturdy, but can s/he recline my feet?' and 'Why does latex always have that new car smell?' Also good to think about are 'Has s/he peed lately?' and 'Will s/he want a snack later? I have some of those frozen teriyaki wings from Schwan's….'
9. I now suspect that I am out of things to say.