the danish outpost
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silly bits


feeling kinda how a girl feels

ambience courtesy of Monty Python...

and then there are just some random quotes that made me laugh when i was rereading the whole damn year of entries. okay, okay... you've all been very patient and i *promise* this is the last of the retrospective.

i couldn't resist, tho. sometimes things just sound better out of context - like when you walk into the middle of a conversation and hear someone say, oh, 'he's got a really big one' - perfectly innocent if you heard the rest of the convo about, say, retirement fund holdings. with that in mind, here you go. links *are* provided to the original entry, if you want to know what i was really talking about. :)

it was great fun decorating the cake, as earl discovered that standing on the other side of the kitchen and pitching the bears at the cake was just as effective as strategically placing them on the cake. my apologies to the lemon bear who ended up doing a face plant.


this gentleman was so sweet, that when we got off the train, he went to shake my hand, and it just felt like the right thing to do to press my cheek against his. he has skin the color of burnished copper, and it's powder soft, and he wears a light sandalwood cologne. and that little moment of connecting, that small second of shared kindness, stayed with me for the rest of the day.


if you've never had a migraine, count your blessings. death is a preferable alternative. which means, in case you didn't guess, that someone is driving an ice pick thru my left eye while Gregory Hines tap dances on what's left of my scalp.


must... wrap... presents... can't... find... tape... too... much... eggnog... hang... one... last... ornament... drowning... in... wrapping... paper... send... elves... for... backup...


band slut moment with greg boyer: and just when i thought it couldn't get better... it did. now, let me just say i rarely have high-pitched, squeaky girlie moments. just not my style. but this... ohmigawd. the trombone player, whom i had had my eye on all night, came off stage, up on the stairs, and said "i need a dance partner."

to me.


i had to stop dating someone once because he looked confused when i mentioned Ivy League, and when i asked him if he knew what it meant, he said (and i quote) 'well, it has something to do with you being vegetarian, right?' that was pretty much the end of him.


'duct tape my fat ass, baby.'

now there's a request you never want to hear, especially from your boyfriend.


imagine that - two guys bumping ass playing choke the chicken. 8) just doesn't sound right, does it?


and my honey. grunted. at . me. like the hedgehog.

i could not have been more horrified. lemme tell you, there's nothing *less* romantic than your honey grunting like a small mammal.


lesson #1: while your cleavage might be ample, it doesn't make a good launching pad for a shot. ... lesson #2: never do this when anyone is present with a camera. there will be blackmail later.


there are few sadder sounds than the *thwump* *squash* of your chips hitting the bottom of the machine after reaching terminal velocity.


i was starting to wonder why my knees were bothering me so much. now i don't wonder. you spend two hours on your knees, and see how you feel.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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*tap tap* hellooo?
i think i've been tricked
steely grey days
warm food for cold weather
the appeal of the broken boy

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