Yeah, I've seen two or three of these. Sometimes the wedding party is in on the joke. I blame feminism.
Man, I am not looking forward to all these obligatory awkward moments.
those are kind of hilariously, dorkily charming.
i would never do it! i would just enjoy being at a wedding where it was done. maybe. especially if it was the robot.
Did I mention this? My sister and her husband, after they were married, recessed to the strains of "Why Don't We Just Do It in The Road?".
Other real-life examples from married types round here? Or did you all consider that sort of thing passé?
I was going to make some snarky comment about you longing after a wedding or something, Ogged, but those videos have just wiped all snark from my mind.
"Why Don't We Just Do It in The Road?"
They walked in to "Lucy In The Sky With Her Big Ass Diamonds", too.
how cheerful, enjoyable, enviable,
youthfully playful
etc.
That's not funny, Knecht
The funny part came when we did a farewell dance to the "So Long, Farewell" song from The Sound of Music
Truth be told, I also sang this song to Knech in lieu of a speech. Can you all feel my psychic vibe?
Sometimes its hard to be a woman Giving all your love to just one man You'll have bad times And he'll have good times Doing things that you don't understand But if you love him you'll forgive him Even though he's hard to understand And if you love him Oh be proud of him 'Cause after all he's just a man
Uh, yeah, she's not joking about 16.
All marriage should be outlawed, along with academic tenure, and both should be replaced by renewable three-year contracts.
So Fleur, ahem, there was a little matter I was wondering about...can you give us her initials?
All women should have abortions too. Perhaps once every three years.
Gee AWB, and we are so happy for you in your new job.
Where's the love?
My lord, Your Lordship's Most humble, most obedient servant,
Fleur
18 sounds like a good plan. Of course, I say this knowing my wife doesn't read this site.
All women should have abortions too. Perhaps once every three years.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, how are you going to make sure they're all pregnant ? I don't want the nanny state creating some Great Society program and recruiting men from halfway houses for that job, it would probably lead to a lot of STI transmission.
16: Sexist.
Processional: Coltrane, A Love Supreme, with our 35 year old male flower girl doing an interpretive dance and flinging petals everywhere.
Reading: Mathematical love poem from Stanislaw Lem's Cyberiad ("Come, let us hasten to a higher plane/Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn/Their indices bedecked from one to n/Commingled in an endless Markov chain!")
Recessional: Tom Lehrer, The Elements
First Dance: Caterwaul, What I Hear, You Can't, How Come? ("Out there I hear sounds/I know/don't exist for you/how come? ... Out there/I hear/sounds like/I love you/how come?")
21: Eh, I'm just cynical about the whole program, but Lord love you, my dear Fleur, and bless you and keep you.
Good point. Perhaps we could use SAT scores to differentiate the men.
whoa, how are you going to make sure they're all pregnant ?
Man up Ned, our country needs us.
20: All women should have abortions too. Perhaps once every three years.
Yes!
Whether they're pregnant or not.
Ned is all wet.
16: sorry, but I'm no presidential runnin Hillary
19: It is a vowel followed by a consonant. The story is true, but I would not have posted it.
All marriage should be outlawed, along with academic tenure, and both should be replaced by renewable three-year contracts.
Let's turn the whole of life into the English department!
Fleur is no fun. Unless she's teasing.
Anne Bancroft?
Let's turn the whole of life into the English department!
...and then I woke to the sound of my own screams. Luckily, it was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.
Or...was it?
All marriage should be outlawed...and replaced by renewable three-year contracts.
Very close to an actual policy proposal.
Not to fan the fire or anything, but here's the followup song to the one in #16.
Hmmm, I now realize that I don't know how long ago Knecht was in high school, let alone Fleur. Ah well, thanks.
Their indices bedecked from one to n/Commingled in an endless Markov chain!
Oh. My god.
32, 36: Let's say she has played opposite John Travolta. And it's not Olivia Newton John.
Lemmy says it all for me, pretty much.
32, 36: Let's say she has played opposite John Travolta. And it's not Olivia Newton John.
Let's say she has played opposite John Travolta. And it's not Olivia Newton John.
U. T. ? That would be awesome.
Speaking of commenters and songs, whenever I see KR comment, I think of:
Ruprecht's all about
hugs and valentines
Milkshake enemas
Fun and play.
Ruprecht's all about
Burmese belly-rubs,
Fresh-shaved testicles
On Christmas day.
Ruprecht's crazy 'bout taxidermy
And KY Jelly on a rubber glove!
So give him a chance or three,
Let him get to know you
And you'll agree
That Ruprecht's...
All about love.
- Who's the happy chappy with the ulcerated ear?
- Ruprecht?
- Who stays awake all night hollering out with fear?
- Ruprecht?
Who likes to spend every Saturday at the abattoir?
Who gets the cattle-prod if he tries to hump the samovar?
Who likes to save up all his farts in a Mason jar?'
You guessed it---It's Ruprecht!
Well, from what I've surmised about Knecht's age from his attitudes about things, it's probably Agnes Moorehead.
Or Ethel Barrymore. When was the hackysack invented again?
37, It appeared in comments just last weekish, but here's the whole thing.
I just have to share, awesome entry in the referral logs just now:
automatic knife sharpener for fighting cock
I wonder how much of that was made up by the translator and bears little or no relation to anything Lem came up with. I get real suspicious of poetry written to rhyme in Polish which then ends up rhyming in English.
Whoa, when you're in that kind of a fight, the duller the knife the better.
I'll back AWB on the marriage thing, but no dice on abandoning tenure.
48: I direct you to Hofstaders Le Ton Beau de Marot for a stupendous discussion of exactly that sort of issue.
24 - My college roommate made use of that magnificent Lem-ism the year before we got married, so we made do with a passage from If on a winter's night a traveller and an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem. Has rfts showed off the spectacularly, painfully nerdy wedding program she put together?
We got married at the Andy Warhol museum, and so were not allowed to dance. Instead, we got liquored up and invaded a terrible dance club down the block, where eventually we were kicked out when one of our drunken guests took off her shoes.
I gotta get the Hofstadter Marot book. Marot was an amazing guy.
Actually, it was when I took off my drunken bridal shoes.
53 - The problem is that his translations are all kind of crap.
Even your shoes were drunk, RFTS?
Has rfts showed off the spectacularly, painfully nerdy wedding program she put together?
She has not.
From the program:
7. Vodka
So excellent.
50: You'd abolish marriage but maintain academic tenure? You're a radical feminist, and a company man.
That really is fabulous. I've never seen a wedding program with a bibliography before.
63: I just imagine that what would happen with 3-year renewable contracts is that no one would ever get a raise. Plus that whole academic freedom thing.
I'd do that if I expected there to not be any relatives at the wedding.
I even stapled them in the annoying wrong corner, as so often happens with handouts.
My dad read that selfsame Millay poem at my sister's wedding. How odd.
Basically, the common thread is that no one should ever have to move if they don't want to. Non-permament marriages + permanent employment = permanent residency. Hurrah!
My dad read that selfsame Millay poem at my sister's wedding. How odd.
Well, it's a winner.
How odd.
Not odd at all.
Nice program.
Love is patient, love is kind. Love is not boastful, or selfish, or quick to take offense. There is nothing on the wedding program love cannot face.
I don't know when I got bitter
But love is surely better when it's gone
'Cause you wanted more
More than I could give
More than I could handle
In a life that I can't live
Well, that was gratifying. Thank you!
Did your mother choose to have been issued by Gormless Press, rfts, or was that inflicted on her?
"I Believe In A Thing Called Love" would make good processional music. No need to dawdle, get a move on!
34 -- Is that what Mitt Romney was talking about when he said [i]n France, for instance, I'm told that marriage is now frequently contracted in seven-year terms where either party may move on when their term is up. How shallow and how different from the Europe of the past?
It's certainly a forgiveable mistake. Why would we expect a President of the United States to be able to tell the difference between a whimsical proposal made by the administrator of a small Bavarian county from policy in place of a large European country?
Actually, looking at the dates, it seems that Mitt was first.
79 - Especially the famous Armsmasher/Wreck karaoke version.
I just imagine that what would happen with 3-year renewable contracts is that no one would ever get a raise.
Twenty four and three quarters years into a 'til death' contract, and I'm not sure I've ever gotten a raise. Oh, I guess I haven't given one either. Never mind.
a fleeting moonlit
wedding night...
frogs singing
Issa
I can just see B. negotiating three-year renewable contracts with her succession of poolboys koi-pond technicians.
Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride.
Twenty four and three quarters years into a 'til death' contract, and I'm not sure I've ever gotten a raise. Oh, I guess I haven't given one either. Never mind.
I think this means it was never consummated.
Twenty four and three quarters years into a 'til death' contract, and I'm not sure I've ever gotten a raise. Oh, I guess I haven't given one either. Never mind.
I think this means it was never consummated.
I think you're turning Japanese.
85: The landlady takes care of all that.
ben w-lfs-n: consummate commenter...laydeez.
I'd link to my wedding night story, but it's under the old name, so I'll just quote:
We were living about 30 miles from town, on the Madison River, south of Three Forks. (That's a town at the three forks of the Missouri, of which the Madison is the middle, and Jefferson the largest). We lived in a log cabin, with a wooden porch that sounded great when you walked on it, and 10 acres of flat unused ground. We had our three legged dog, a goat (a birthday present I'd gotten my wife the month before), three chickens, and a duck who seemed to think she was a chicken. My not-yet-wife was wrapping up her thesis (Staatsexamenarbeit), and was going to need a green card, and so the time had come around. But neither of our families -- especially not the Germans -- could make it. So, we told everyone to stay home, except two old friends from out of town (one Berkeley, the other Berlin) and three from nearby. We loaded up in a couple of cars, drove the hour or so to Virginia City, a ghost town that is the seat of Madison County, and got dressed. The bride wore a very traditional looking dress from the Salvation Army. I had a suit jacket and jeans. No tie. I'm not even going to say what I wore on my feet. We popped into the courtroom, and the Justice of the Peace ran quickly through the ceremony. Kissed, and out the door. We all went to the outdoor museum part of town to take pictures -- it was pretty warm for February, but we all wore winter gear -- then back to the cabin for carrot cake and other treats.
Our wedding night story requires a little digression. Near our cabin was a smaller cabin owned by a Swiss machinist -- he made spare parts for jet fighters to very demanding specifications -- who had three horses. The youngest was an uncut stud, a bit of a trouble maker. I'd gotten several bales of hay to make a little house, on the porch, for our goat Nancy. Shelter from the wind. The stud kept climbing on the deck to eat the hay, destroying the goathouse, so I'd put a thin rail around, leaving a space in front of the door, but a ways from the hay. So, OK, we're married, everyone's eaten, had plenty to drink and such, we've sung all the old cowboy songs our machinist knows, and it's time for bed. The out-of-town guests have gotten interested in each other, but the close-in couple have already claimed our guest room. It was a nice night, so they decided to sleep in what had become a big pile of hay on the porch. This ends up being the night that the stud horse figures out that he can walk up onto the porch in front of the door, and then clomp around to where the hay is. The noise wakes up our dog, and she runs to the window to bark at the horse. This (a) wakes up the goat, which starts bleating and bleating and (b) scares the horse who forgets how to get off the porch and starts neighing frantically. Wedding guests awake: "Hey!" Horse rears directly above them: "Neigh!" Goat says "Myaah, Myaah!" Dog goes "Woof! Woof! Woof!" The horse was completely panicked, and jumped right through the rail. Crack! The wedding guests were pretty alarmed, but, after a suitable interval, were able to console each other. Once it was clear that no one was hurt, the happy couple collapsed in fits of laughter. The dog was most satisfied, having successfully defended house, occupants, and territory.Night all.
Doesn't really address ben's conclusion, though.
We didn't have a lot, but we did have this song play.
I wonder how much of that was made up by the translator and bears little or no relation to anything Lem came up with.
Let us just accept the judgment of Matt Weiner.
Kandel is a God among translators. I love the bit of the Cyberiad where they turn the armed forces to philosophy, and it is announced that the Second Royal Fleet switched from naval maneuvers to navel contemplation and sank without a trace.
At the wedding I most recently attended, the DJ had been asked not to play "The Chicken Dance" but played it anyway. What a dick.
Threadjack: I just surivived an unpleasant and borderline-farcical breakup. Who's around for moral support and venting?
"[F]arcical" sounds promising. Do tell!
All the requisite sympathies, of course.
John Adams was not a handsome man, anyway, Abigail.
And to him, you were only ever the second: sure, the first second lady, but only the second first lady.
Meeee, though my bourbon is going to my head and I may fall unconscious before I've met my full support quota.
Long story short: Six months of seeing each other, which took a while to get serious because I'm a slow and cautious person. Come tonight, we're in bed and there is a knock at his apartment door. Three seconds later the front door OPENS and he leaps out of bed and slams the bedroom door behind him.
I'm sitting there gaping when he comes back in, announces that this is a "major problem" and I'm to stay in the room. He grabs a pair of shorts and leaves again.
I get up and get dressed. This takes all of 90 seconds because I'm still in shock over how fast the gears switched.
That's the story? More details are required. What happened? Who was it?
Oh, sorry, I got impatient. Do go on.
The apartment walls are thick and I can't hear anything. He comes back in and says choppily, awkwardly: "Unfinished business -- I -- privacy."
I head for the front door. She's nowhere in site. Shoes on, coat out of the closet, I say one word: "Goodbye."
I thought that among the American founders the Adams had one of the more affectionate marriages.
Sheer astonishment carries me 20 blocks through some pretty crappy neighborhoods.
Naturally there are no taxis.
I have my "staircase wit" moment and realize I should have said "Unfinished business? I'm FINISHED business." Whatever. What pops to mind? I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair. Way better than Mitzi Gaynor ever did.
How bizarre. Do you think you'll get an explanation at some point?
(I picked Abigail because I think she's a terrific first lady and role model, not because this stupid relationship was a AA/JA model. Although he WAS shorter than me.)
eb: yes. But the first/second, second/first thing is so rich.
I don't want an explanation, frankly -- I don't care. He's history, and I feel confident in saying that because the primary emotion behind all the anger is RELIEF.
All I want to know is whether he lied about my disease risk from him.
(Apparently I'm angry enough that I'm typing "site" for "sight".)
AA, that's awful.
And if I saw this scene on a sitcom, I would think, "Stuff like that never happens."
It could be an ex-girlfriend, of course, but I have to wonder if he's married?
I wish I could convey how like a stupid French farce the whole thing was. Doors slamming, opening, slamming again. People vanishing and entering different exits. Quick costume changes. Really, it was like being in Noises Off or something. Thank God I hadn't taken my contacts out.
I am, of course, sorry for your anxiety and anger, Abigail, but "unfinished business" takes its place in the pantheon of hilariously lame euphemisms. "Oh, this, my secret girlfriend? Just some unfinished business; sit tight for a moment."
It could be an ex-girlfriend, of course, but I have to wonder if he's married?
Well, yeah. The thing is, I'm a weirdly careful person. I mean, I"m in my early 30s and I can count the number of people I've kissed, let alone been intimate with, on less than the fingers of one hand. It takes me quite a while to get to know and trust someone.
I'd stake a lot on the fact that he didn't have a woman living there. But why she still had a KEY is beyond me.
It's interesting that there was a knock and a pause before whoever it was opened the door. Presumably they have or had some kind of arrangement.
I am guessing this is not the last you hear of this, even if you don't want to.
"unfinished business" takes its place in the pantheon of hilariously lame euphemisms
Oh, no kidding. This is literally the only dramatic relationship moment I've ever had -- I am a quiet person and I really dislike drama. When my previous ex and I broke up, it was with lots of mutual respect and grief and some crying together and then time apart to heal.
This, on the other hand, is like four layers of farce. I mean, it's too ludicrous to believe.
(And I didn't mean to pick on your choice of pseudonym. Just a tangential comment on the historical couple.)
I'd stake a lot on the fact that he didn't have a woman living there. But why she still had a KEY is beyond me.
Because she lives in their house in Westchester (or its equivalent) and he spends some nights (working late and etc) in their Manhattan (or its equivalent) apartment?
It's interesting that there was a knock and a pause before whoever it was opened the door. Presumably they have or had some kind of arrangement.
It's bizarre, is what it is. I mean, this is not NY. Housing here is cheap (especially where he lives). People don't have to keep apartments together after they broke up.
And it for darn sure wasn't MUCH of a pause. I mean, I wasn't listening closely but I figured it was for the other apartment. Who the hell knocks on someone's door at 10:30 p.m. on a Tuesday?
Unfinished business
Nice. My guess: last intimate contact with the ex-girlfriend was an unreciprocated blowjob, and she's come to collect on the debt.
Wow, that's, um, wow. My sympathies, AA.
So now I'm e-mailing my doctor. Of course I haven't had any symptoms, but who knows what else he lied about.
Bleargh.
That sucks, but in any given instance, the odds of catching something are pretty low, so spare yourself the anxiety.
I'm curious whether you had any misgivings about him, if not along these lines, at least moments of wondering about his sincerity.
The knock seems weird Clearly not a wife. Ex gf? But why come in so quick?
in any given instance, the odds of catching something are pretty low, so spare yourself the anxiety.
Did I mention "slow and cautious" Need I add that I'm a worrywort? I mean, yes, condom, but still...I've never dealt with this magnitude of broken trust before. Not in friendship, not in business, and certainly not in an intimate relationship.
I'm curious whether you had any misgivings about him, if not along these lines, at least moments of wondering about his sincerity.
Yes, but they weren't misgivings about his faithfulness. I thought he might be deluding himself that he was emotionally ready for a serious relationship, I was put off by some of his offhand sexism, I thought his Catholicism was influencing his life outlook more than he admitted. But we TALKED about a lot of these things, clearly and calmly and without personal spite or defensiveness. I mean, it's not like I was harboring all this stuff and never brought it up.
Plus, I called him on his landline at home and his landline at work. I visited him at work many times. I visited him at home -- and honestly, if there was a woman living there she was not only pristine but hairless.
God only knows what was going on. I'm grateful to be out of it and delighted it wasn't worse. And it could have been.
Yeah, seems you got off pretty easy, and with a funny story to boot. It could have been an ex from whom he hadn't completely disentangled, which makes "unfinished business" make more sense.
It could be something involve high international intrigue.
It could be something involve high international intrigue.
Ben, are you feeling all right? A typo is so unlike you.
Chances are l'il ben's not involved at all. So rest easy.
Ben just showin' off his street cred. He down with the gente 'n' shit.
Yes, well, this member of the gente remember a few choice cuss words on the way home tonight.
gah, I can't type. RememberED.
A guess (though what the hell do I know?): relationship that became long distance and then fizzled, but never officially ended? She's back in town for Thanksgiving, and hoped/had reason to think she'd catch him in flagrante, or maybe just wanted a surprise talk (hence the knock followed by sudden entry)?
In any case, sympathies.
It's more of a thinko than a typo. Unless of course to type something (and hence to mistype something) already involves thinking, the realization of a practical concept or something, whatever the fuck that might be, McDowell.
Well, on the upside, now I'm thinking I will come to UnfoggeDCon.
149: Yeah, who knows? That's as plausible as anything.
151: If only we knew whom to expect!
Yeah, I don't want to dampen your vent; by all means, vent away. But while the uncharitable explanation is the most likely, there's enough oddness there that I'd say there's a non-zero chance of a less unsavory explanation.
Naturally, I'll be the only person in eighteenth-century garb.
155 - The only woman. Ben will be there.
there's a non-zero chance of a less unsavory explanation
It was his mom, escaped from the old folks' home.
153: You'll know her by the fancy hat.
155: You can't be too sure with this group.
there's a non-zero chance of a less unsavory explanation.
Absolutely. But the thing that made me quite sure that I was well out of this relationship isn't what happened. It's how he handled it.
There is no set of circumstances under which I would behave like that to an acquaintance, much less a lover. And he wasn't THAT frazzled -- I mean, she didn't come in armed or anything.
It was his mom, escaped from the old folks' home.
It was Rasputin, still not dead.
You'll know me by my "Remember the Ladies!" placard.
(You guys are making me laugh. Thanks.)
It was his mom, escaped from the old folks' home.
She never saw anybody. Could be ghosts.
160 - Yeah, it read weird and I'm sure it was even weirder in person. There may be an unsavory explanation but, if that were the case, he likely would have been "OMG my sister!" or "My crazy ex!" from the start.
It was his co-worker, and they had some urgent unfinished business and he realized that you'd never signed a non-disclosure agreement.
Maybe it was literally unfinished business which came to life in the office and hunted him down.
She never saw anybody. Could be ghosts.
I did hear a voice -- a word or two that I couldn't make out, after he leapt out of bed and before he closed the door. So I know it was a woman. Or a guy with a really feminine voice.
His mother is dead; his stepmom is thousands of miles away. He has a sister, about whose travails he has told me in detail. If it had been she, he wouldn't have thrown me out without an explanation.
"I'm sorry about that, Abby. But Mr. Salinger insists that nobody else be here when he comes to visit."
I'm with 154: while the unsavory explanation is the more likely, I don't see an ironclad case against the gentleman in question. It could be a stalker ex-girlfriend. It could be a master thief. You're probably right, and I trust your instincts more than I do my speculation, but if it were me I'd have more anxiety than sturn-und-drang.
His mother is dead
GHOSTS, I TELL YOU!
It could be a master thief.
Master thieves knock twice.
OMG! I just realized it! You're living out the TV show Damages! It's actually the woman that a private investigator/hitman hired to pretend to be a crazy stalker who made a copy of your keys when you went over to her house to help price her not really dead grandfather's EKG machine and she was sneaking in to rifle through your things to find the videotape of the deposition where All Is Revealed! You're going to be framed for his murder!
GHOSTS, I TELL YOU!
Yeah. It was his boo, yo.
We Yankees don't believe in ghosts, Apostropher.
172: Right, again, I'm not ruling it out. But how hard is it to say "I'm so sorry, this is awful, this is my ex who I know from experience is going to be crazy. It's much better if you just leave. Here, do you have enough cash for a cab? I'll call you as soon as I get her settled down. It might be pretty late."
Obviously you're well rid of him. But this isn't about you anymore. It's about paranormal phenomena.
Sounds like she's mostly pissed off at how he reacted, so the exact nature of the disturbance is moot. It's still fun to speculate, though.
Well, I'm glad to be of service. But wasn't it Dolley Madison who was supposed to haunt the White House, not Abigail?
178: Yeah, I know I'm grasping at straws. But the man was freaked out, yes? People behave poorly when freaked out. Just so you know, if it was his mom, ghosts can't operate doors and zombies lack the dexterity to pick locks, so it must have been a vampire.
Vampires have to be invited in. (Maybe there was a standing invitation.)
Coulda been a werewolf. The moon's more than half full tonight—you lucked out.
Vampires have to be invited in. (Maybe there was a standing invitation.)
I think giving a vampire a key to your place counts as a standing invitation.
Plus, I called him on his landline at home and his landline at work. I visited him at work many times. I visited him at home -- and honestly, if there was a woman living there she was not only pristine but hairless.
Ex-girlfriend, not current secret girlfriend; he didn't have the sack to tell you about her (or what the current status with her was), just like he didn't have the sack to ask her for the key back. (Actually, was the door locked? I've got several friends who have knock-and-enter privileges.) He handled it lamely in every respect, sure, but it's entirely possible that he hasn't had sexual contact with her since getting involved with you. That said, yeah, get tested just for the peace of mind.
"Unfinished business" sounds like ex-girlfriend, not secret girlfriend.
I can't believe that man-whore was fucking a vampire. Well-rid, indeed.
HL's scenario is plenty plausible. Too bad we just deduced the vampire.
(I am 99% sure the door locks automatically, but I think he also locked it. The building, as mentioned, is not in a terrifically safe neighborhood.)
Vampire. Sure. I didn't even think of that. *smacks forehead*
"Unfinished business -- I -- privacy."
Ah, I didn't catch that this was communicating, "You need to leave." That's pretty fucked up.
These speculations - and more! - will be appearing in book form as The Deducer's Diary.
I don't know, 'unfinished business' sounds to me more like 'practically-but-not-officially-ex girlfriend' than 'ex-girlfriend' (149 was me, sorry, new to this de-lurking thing). Which is the sort of thing that ought to be wrapped up and/or disclosed. But yeah, it doesn't sound like 'secret girlfriend'.
Maybe he's operating an al Qaeda safehouse?
197. Could be. Abby, is he one of them swarthy middle eastern types?
Vampiric Suckfest would be a good name for a crappy metal showcase. So there's that.
Furriner, yes. Middle Eastern, no.
Vampires have been known to shift shape.
(Welcome, potchkeh. I'd offer a fruit basket, but I'm a little verdoodled at the moment.)
European? I hear in France all the men have both a wife (in seven-year contract form) and a mistress.
Furriner, yes.
Well, there's your first mistake. Always look for the Made in America tag.
Always look for the Made in America tag.
Appropos of nothing, I was annoyed recently to notice that the bookbag I bought, which proudly advertises its maker's name and "Brooklyn NY" on the outer label, has an inner label that says "Made in Malaysia" or some such. False advertising!
205: Also, there's a place where the naked ladies dance. Or so I hear.
The caves, the robes...it totally makes sense that there are vampires in al qaeda.
I assume Abigail is aware of her older contemporary Franklin's remarks on swarthy foreigners.
208: Hamas, on the other hand, recruits mostly Swamp Things. Which is tough in the middle of a desert.
210. An army of Swamp Things would be totally awesome.
Appropos of nothing, I was annoyed recently to notice that the bookbag I bought, which proudly advertises its maker's name and "Brooklyn NY" on the outer label, has an inner label that says "Made in Malaysia" or some such. False advertising!
Not only that, but you can't compile gtk on Manhattan Portage bags.
213: Any platform on which you can't compile gtk is awesome in my book.
OK, time for bed. Thank you all. I hope to never bring this much drama to a thread again. Although y'all have provided me with a few good screening questions for future paramours.
Nighty night. Don't let the vampires...
This blog thrives on drama. The second best unfogged thread ever was drama-centric (the amateur porn episode). Your boyfriend brought interest to what had been a rather tame day of unfogged.
I just imagine that what would happen with 3-year renewable contracts is that no one would ever get a raise
holy moly, you people don't know you're born. Overlapping short term contracts is the best way to get raises. All you have to do is shop yourself around a bit to introduce some price tension at contract renewal time. Would footballers be richer or poorer if they had "tenure"?
Perhaps we could use SAT scores to differentiate the men.
Racist.
41: I am not at liberty to confirm or deny...
KR, if it's any consolation, you've done me a good service. My state of discussion about Unfogged (etc) wasn't materially different from yours, an untenable situation. My 'you'll never believe what happened to this guy' story was very humanizing, though, and Fleur's reaction inspiring (in a positive way). It helped too that the wife got a chance to recall and recount how her oppressively pedantic older brother used to hide under the table every year on Nikolaus, for fear of the "real" KR.
So where are we now? She realized yesterday that the laws of symetry required an additional guest for TG. Maybe there's someone from your internet group you'd like to invite.
Napi, that's so cool. It consoles me that my example has helped others avoid making the same mistakes I did.
I'll add that it's not just symetry, but I think she's hoping that an additional male guest will interfere with my ability to flirt with the hot single friend she's already invited.
flirt with the hot single friend she's already invited
Well, that should make it easier to recruit someone from the Commentariat. Teofilo, you got any Thanksgiving plans?
Always look for the Made in America tag.
Amen.
Abigail Adams, very sorry to hear about the break-up. But god, what a story.
Seconding Cala, Abigail -- (a) nasty shock, (b) surely better off without him, and (c) once you're stuck with (a) and (b), you may as well get a good story out of it.
Abigail, two words: Modern Love.
two words: Modern Love
"He slammed the apartment door shut on me, but ironically, it was I who slammed the emotional door shut on him."
All marriage should be outlawed, along with academic tenure, and both should be replaced by renewable three-year contracts.
First, I am in favor of this idea. But, I would suggest 6 or 7 year contracts.
Second, how can we find out what happened with Abigail? Can we send him an Unfogged evite so he can tell a tall tale about why he was so rude to our imaginary friend?
U.T.'s Dalai Lama trumps Winona Ryder's Timothy Leary. That's massive cultural capital.
