poeticdream: "you know, I'm grossly undercaffinated so grossly in fact that it took may hits to find the g and then, while I was finding the g I found the s and thought "oh, I should save that, I'll need it soon" zzzzz
poeticdream sidles up behind me, kisses me on the neck and in a sultry manner declares: "you are my chef du jour..." me, confused: "uh, I'm your chef of the day??" robin: "ohhhh, that's what that means?"
poeticdream: "okay, you've got dinner under control. now i'm gonna go in the living room, get naked, drink beer, scratch my cunt and write my essay about what it means to be a woman."
abigail_m: "boob! boob! booby booby boob! momma, boob!..." me: "you know, we can never tell abby she's a broken record because she's never seen a record" poeticdream: 'we can say "you're like a skipping cd!' no, wait, we don't listen to cds... i know: 'you're like a poorly-encoded mp3!'"
poeticdream: "and if [the tomato soup] isn't good, we should make a migramage . . . [trails off]" me: "migramage? *laughs*" robin: it's like a pilgrimage and a migration all at once!"