Friday Ephemera (795)
It did not go entirely to plan. || Totally normal. || Itsy-bitsy. || Mrs Critchfield has a backyard business, 1953. || On the Batman effect. || Today’s words are body language. || Boasting of overcharging people based on their race. || Boob correction and other minor fixes. || Or maybe you could use a good moisturiser. || The more, the merrier. || The woman who moved her house 100 miles, 1975. || If size impresses you. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || Chunky snow. || Incoming. || She has a racist chair. || On stealing $20, at knifepoint. || On deportations and legal creep. || A lively discussion regarding pizza – and $1. || The unspanked at large. || Puzzled look. || Coping. || Safety first. || Four Guineas a week and free hot water. || And finally, it’s waterproof, super-handy, and the edges are adhesive.
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Hmmm, maybe we could sell enough tickets to pay for the fuel.
Faces That Match The Opinion
One, two, many, lots.
‘Mexia’ and ‘Montague’ should be good starters for Texas’ entries.
No, too-WOOM-ba.
The Clash’s first draft of “Lost in a Supermarket.”
And in context of thing stolen from Ace, and previously mentioned personality tests, if I were a villainous dictator type I would be Herman Goering. Hey, you can do worse. Gotta love the quote.
Added: In fact after some further research, going forward I would like to be addressed as Der Dicke.
[ Finishes tomorrow’s post, scheduled for midnight, weighs merits of a large gin and tonic. ]
I’m getting some incoming traffic from Facebook, but as I don’t have a Facebook account, I can’t see what it is.
See, this is why I should be given godlike powers.
It might be from here, based on a hasty google search. Just a collection of links without any commentary at all.
Does your trackback info give URL’s of the originators?
Yes, usually, but not for Facebook.
[ Waits for freakish lab mishap, exposure to cosmic rays, etc. ]
Thanks, by the way.
There are many reasons why Facebook is called Fecesbook.
Police officer: You have drugs in your pants.
Drug dealer: These aren’t even my pants.
Beware the black face of white supremacy.
The one I most vividly recall, from an episode of Cops, “This isn’t my bra.”
She was, I seem to recall, a big lass.
I did that dictator personality test and came out as Mao Tse-Tung. Apparently this means I’m barbed and acerbic in addressing people. Well, I did once have a girlfriend named Barbie, and I once visited Serbia, so it’s pretty close.