I'm out of good subject lines. Forgive me, its late...
The camera's from Law hardly do him justice.
I've gone back and edited about FOUR THOUSAND AND TWO typos out of that post and frankly, I don't feel like doing it again. Please disregard that apostrophe. I swear I know english grammatical rules...I promise when I embark upon my novel writing journey I will do my best to abide by them...
I've been slacking on the quotes, so here you go:
"I love my perky breasts!" ~Rebecca "the Skank"
"George Clooney had a HOTT Robin!" ~ Becky, once again (does that sound unbelievably dirty to anyone else? Maybe I'm just a perv...)
"NO, because drinking a frap in July doesn't make me want to put on a hat and gloves and shovel the front walk." ~Liz
An address to you by Miss Maureen (YES, YOU!):
This is a little memo to everyone who is constantly reading Da Kimmaz' live journal and yet doesn't post responseberries because they're too lazy. She won't update until people start posting! And if you're reading it then really how long does it take to show her that you appreciate her. Just a few clicks and a little typing. I'm sure you're all capable of that...I would think.
~This memo has been brought to you by the Pro-Da Kimmaz Club and viewers like you~
Thank you, Momo. At least SOMEONE acknowledges my love of the responseberries. If you note the two quotes that have been my journal's subtitle, you will understand: "The responseberries taste like responseberries!" and "The responseberries have never tasted sweeter...". As should be obvious, the responseberries can't taste like anything if there are no responseberries. And to all the dipshits out there, a responseberri is a comment. Clicky clicky. From this point on, none of you are allowed to talk to me about my updates (episodes) unless you've left me a responseberri. That is final (and I'm a hardass, you know...I really am...I swear...)
I no longer need a new canvas...now I need six. I did some conceptual pondering and have made an executive decision regarding my brain child. I'm not expanding to another canvas, I'm making panels...four of them. You can contact me by some other means and I'll tell you all about it. Perhaps I'll post later when I'm not pressed for time with the detalles. One more thing before I go, the name of the painting is no longer "The History of Philosophy"; my metaphor died. It is now called "Sexual Corruption". 'Nuff said.
I've gone back and edited about FOUR THOUSAND AND TWO typos out of that post and frankly, I don't feel like doing it again. Please disregard that apostrophe. I swear I know english grammatical rules...I promise when I embark upon my novel writing journey I will do my best to abide by them...
I've been slacking on the quotes, so here you go:
"I love my perky breasts!" ~Rebecca "the Skank"
"George Clooney had a HOTT Robin!" ~ Becky, once again (does that sound unbelievably dirty to anyone else? Maybe I'm just a perv...)
"NO, because drinking a frap in July doesn't make me want to put on a hat and gloves and shovel the front walk." ~Liz
An address to you by Miss Maureen (YES, YOU!):
This is a little memo to everyone who is constantly reading Da Kimmaz' live journal and yet doesn't post responseberries because they're too lazy. She won't update until people start posting! And if you're reading it then really how long does it take to show her that you appreciate her. Just a few clicks and a little typing. I'm sure you're all capable of that...I would think.
~This memo has been brought to you by the Pro-Da Kimmaz Club and viewers like you~
Thank you, Momo. At least SOMEONE acknowledges my love of the responseberries. If you note the two quotes that have been my journal's subtitle, you will understand: "The responseberries taste like responseberries!" and "The responseberries have never tasted sweeter...". As should be obvious, the responseberries can't taste like anything if there are no responseberries. And to all the dipshits out there, a responseberri is a comment. Clicky clicky. From this point on, none of you are allowed to talk to me about my updates (episodes) unless you've left me a responseberri. That is final (and I'm a hardass, you know...I really am...I swear...)
I no longer need a new canvas...now I need six. I did some conceptual pondering and have made an executive decision regarding my brain child. I'm not expanding to another canvas, I'm making panels...four of them. You can contact me by some other means and I'll tell you all about it. Perhaps I'll post later when I'm not pressed for time with the detalles. One more thing before I go, the name of the painting is no longer "The History of Philosophy"; my metaphor died. It is now called "Sexual Corruption". 'Nuff said.