YSaC, Vol. 854: Get your doxin a row.
You know, as long as we’re doing perennial favorites here at YSaC, I’ll trot out another one:
2 DATSUNS’ FREE TO GOOD HOME – MOVING TOMORROW!
I am moving tomorrow morning and can’t bring my Datsuns’ with me! I have a (male) brown with white and a (female) brown w/black, they are both about a year old, all shots, both are not fixed, I work for Banfield and they were well cared for. If interested, please contact me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx. Thank you!!!
Huh. I thought Nissan phased out that brand name in the 80s. Then again, I also thought that someone who worked for a veterinary office would (a) fix their animals, (b) think about finding their pets somewhere to live before the night before they moved, and (c) know how to spell dachshund. I mean, it’s not that hard, right?
mini doxin puppy
need to find him a home..rehoming fee 75 dollars. just trying to recoup vet fees…if you are someone who texted earlier to ask and my boyfriend told you 140-or 100 im sorry he is an idiot…xxxxxxxxxx thanks.
Oh, HE’S the idiot? I was wondering who the idiot was. Thanks for clearing that up for me. I’m sorry your boyfriend is an idiot too. That must be a challenge.
Didn’t Dow Chemical just spend $11 million cleaning up a Doxin puppy spill in Michigan? From what I understand, it’s a very toxic substance. The effects cause your torso to elongate while simultaneously causing your legs to shorten.
Thanks, liliya and jayluvsbecca! (Awwww, how cute!)
I don’t know why those people in the first ad are so worried. When I was growing up, we just kept our brown Datsun in the garage and it was just fine.
Many adores to the Llama-Nun (bees be upon her) if I could for “Doxin puppy spill in Michigan.” The mental images from this – a quickly expanding lake of yapping puppies flooding out of an industrial plant – are providing much-needed giggles this morning.
If I had a Datsun I’d keep it in the yard.
If I had a Hummer I’d hummer in the morning. I’d hummer in the evening. All over this land.
*perhaps Hummer wasn’t the best vehicle choice*
😉
Nope, it was just fine…
If I had a Ram I’d…
What?
But I just met ‘er!
BWAHAHA
*hands Typo a tissue*
I believe you were thinking of this however, I’ve never met a man who would turn down a Humm…
I don’t know that tune, perhaps if you Humm…a few more bars?
I don’t know if I have all the words correct:
I’d Hummer out Datsun
I’d Hummer out Winnebagel
I’d Hummer out the Love Truck between my Broncos and my Saabs
All over this land
Oh? You said Humm…
Mumbling would be fine too…
What?
Mumbling would be fine?
I thought I pretty much was….
It’s been a long, YSaC-less day, and this is a great first thread to come in to.
I’ve always wondered what the right song to hum would be in that situation
The battle hymen of the repubic?
You just had to the be the first to break that here, didn’t you?
*Looks around*
I see nothing virginal here.
Mine would be on ceement blocks in the front yard. Of course I’d plant some flowers around it in honor of our HOA.
My son would probably have it torn apart by now trying to figure out why it didn’t run.
And the next thing you know, they’ll be running down the fairway in Indianapolis, chasing the pack of wild chawas, yapping in Teutonic tones, “Go back where you came from and take your Chalupas with you!”
You know, this brings up a concern of mine. There is a pond behind our house that was recently fenced off because (I thought) it had high levels of dioxin. But now I’m thinking I misread the sign, and there are high levels of doxins down there. That would explain the yapping noises, the moving vegetation with no discernible wind, the mysterious wiener shaped shadows in the water…
Tankerbell, don’t ask me why, exactly, but your sentence “That would explain the yapping noises, the moving vegetation with no discernible wind, the mysterious wiener shaped shadows in the water…” made me picture a scenario drawn by Gary Larson.
Me too.
Toxic Nissans, where can you go wrong?
Pass me a slice of coffee Lola luv?
The slices on the left of the tray are mocha; the ones on the right are cinnamon-nutmeg. Mmmm, fresh toasted coffee slices … just like granny never used to make.
Because Granny couldn’t knead the dough with her hooks.
Rosie the Riveter, my ass.
Toxic Doxins is IF’s Rammstein tribute band.
Missing: One Robot Moose in a Lousy Poncho. Last seen in Michigan cleaning up toxic puppy spills. If found, please send her home to the Snark Lounge.
I’ll fire up the bleach bath, so it ready.
I know, right? I’ve been missing our LRC, too. Bring back the poncho moose!
PONCHO PONCHO MOOSE! I WANT TO BE YOUR PONCHO MOOSE!
Hey snarkers! I have been summoned via the almighty face of book, and I am here.
LRC! LRC!! LRC!!!
Speak, and it shall be granted. (I need to try this more often.)
LRC!!!!!!! How wonderful to see you, girlfriend!!!! Where you been? I have been missing you.
Between the crazy that is work and the annoying that is the errors I get when posting, I was on hiatus.
Seriously? When everyone else was all complaining about the posting errors, I had no problem. As soon as drmk (bees be upon her) tried to fix them, I started having issues.
Well, it’s lovely to see you, in all your poncho-ey goodness. I guess I am going to have to stalk you on Facebook.
Can I be in that one? I already have my own gas mask.
*Reads the first ad*
Oh! I can make a car joke!
*Scrolls down*
Damn
*Reads second ad*
Okay, I got an obsolete car joke.
*Scrolls down*
Sigh.
I’ll be back after coffee.
Ugh. The second ad was supposed to inspire a toxin joke. Proof that I can’t function without at least 12 ounces of blackened brew in my system.
We’re passing out the java loaf. Help yourself to a few slices. I’ve already got my buzz goin’ on, so I’m good to– SQUIRREL.
Gratzi, smiley dog. Why is there a bushy tail in my slice?
Because you’re supposed to stroke the tail with the fur, not against it.
Because you’re supposed to stroke the tail with the fur, not against it.
EB, that just sounds SO wrong, and Sooooooo right. Hammy, care to comment – what does the puppy think?
So who else thought of 10th Kingdom?
Thank you Moira, I was hoping someone would get that :-p
Thanks, didn’t get custody of that either.
A Weiner by any other name is still a pecil…
Feeling better, I see.
My pecil has a first name
It’s O-S-C-A-R.
My pecil has a first name
Because I name all my body parts….
And they will always be your friend!
Cumpets for everyone!
I wonder if you have to go to Petco to buy supplies for your cumpets? Or are they more like nano pets?
I think you can only get them in adult stores. Certain adult stores. Places where Richard Gere shops, I think.
Wait, what? I thought “cumpets” was an obedience training command!
I thought “cumpets” were musical instruments. While else would that guy in the dark alleyway over there offer to trade one for a rusty trombone?
LINE CROSSED!!!!
*but it was adorable the way you said it*
😉
My wiener is a pen. My pen is mighty.
These are not the hammer.
This is not the
Hummerhammer you are looking for.Wiener = pen
Pen = mightier than the sword
I take it your “pen” is not named Excalibur. Bic, perhaps?
I get it – retractable …… groan……..
Hopefully it’s not a sty…
Did you suddenly go comatose before finishing the word stylus? Or were you making a pig pen reference and meant to finish at sty? I need to know!
My mind is all over the page today and refuses to focus. Perhaps a slice of bocha-mocha coffee would help.
Yes
Thanks for clearing that up.
*giving Hammy the stink eye*
Not ballpoint – roller-ball….
MindField would have us believe his wiener is mightier than a sword. I’m dubious.
Depending on which Bic it could also be small, brightly colored, and highly flammable.
My pecils are cream-filled cumpets.
What line?
Stephanae, the grand Pooh-Bah of perven lodge number elebenty brazillion!
*bangs gavel*
I hereby call the center of the room to order. We’re trying to talk over here in the corner.
Yes, before you ask, “talk” is what they call it these days.
And talk IS a four-letter word for intercourse that ends in k.
Just for that, Windy, I’m
kidnappingrecruiting you to the perven.Do I get to wear a hat? With feathers? 8)
Yes, but that’s all you get to wear.
*blink* Gonna need a lot of feathers.
My pecils are cream-filled cumpets.
Stephanae – you have more than one? I do hope they are housebroken, or at least paper-trained, otherwise your floors are going to be a mess!
It must be nice to come home to all those wagging tails, though.
I was wondering whether anyone would mention the plural.
I don’t keep all my pecils at home. I like to farm them out to my lieutenants for training, care, and feeding. Then I get to enjoy them at my convenience, and I don’t have to worry so much about the floors.
I was going to say it was a little like having grandchildren, but well, no, it’s really not!
That all depends on where you’re from.
Gee, thanks for the advanced notice Sparky. Nothing like waiting until the last minute to try to dump your “well cared for” highly fertile wiener dogs.
Edit: since this was so well stated once, I thought I would re-iterate. *sorry*
It deserves mentioning again.
Nice save Christina. Thanks!
I actually thought I had read all the commentary before I posted that but apparently I was blinded by the hideousness of the second ad.
Selective blindness is a symptom of Doxin poisoning.
Thank goodness my computer monitor is in braille.
Mudsy, I thought you had sprinkled your monitor yesterday?
That doesn’t remove the braille?
No. It just gets stuck in all the bumps.
idiot couple
________________________________________
need to find them a home..rehoming fee 75 dollars. just trying to recoup the last year of my life…i suggest you invest in getting them both fixed at your earliest convenience …xoxoxoxoxo thanks. just ask for “schnitzel”.
How much extra to ship them to a different country?
Depends on which country. I think the country of Alaska would be perfect!
While that might be so, I am afraid that doing that too often would create a critical mass and subsequent idiot explosion. Best, I think, to try to keep them separated in an attempt to slow down the reaction and poisoning of the atmosphere.
Oh, I don’t know, Moira. I think I agree with Mudsy. And Queen Sarah is already matron of the idiot home up there.
Think we can get a grant for this experiment, as well?
Moira, I will take out a loan and personally fund this experiment.
Smurt set the stool on the asphalt and sat down. He had been dreading this moment; Smurt spent the last few days trying to formulate a way to break the news as gently as possible, but it seemed like no matter how he couched it, there was no getting around the fact that those few brief words he would eventually get to would drop like Tsar Bomba over Mityushikha Bay, only Mityushikha Bay was Portland, he was the Tu-95V that dropped it, and the fallout would claim two victims, even if it was non-fatal. And for some reason it was making him prone to war analogies.
But at least they were well cared-for and had a good life with him, right? They were well-fed, had a roof over their head, and were given love, so much love. They would understand, wouldn’t they? They had to understand. He had no other choice in this matter. He and his family had to leave, and they couldn’t come with him. They just couldn’t. They simply didn’t have any room in their new, far away home.
Smurt looked at them, his eyes welling up with regret. They knew something was wrong; they could sense things like that, and although they didn’t register emotions visibly the same way humans did, he could tell the look they returned was one of worry. He couldn’t put it off any longer; they were leaving tomorrow and this was his last chance to spend what little quality time he had left with them. Smurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before addressing them.
“I have some bad news,” he began, staring at the worn, tar-covered pebbles of his driveway, idly lacing his fingers back and forth, his elbows resting on his knees. “I got a promotion — well, that’s good I guess — but it means that they have to transfer me to a new office. In Michigan. That means that Gerfondel and the kids and I, we all have to move. And it’s a great place, really, it’s nice. But it’s small. I mean, really small. It’s … too small.”
Smurt dipped his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He was over the bay. He had to release the clamps. One last deep breath.
“Too small … for all of us. I mean, Gerfondel and the kids and I, we’re okay, there’s enough room for us, but … there isn’t … I mean, we can’t …”
Bombs away.
“We can’t take you with us.”
Still they appeared outwardly to be emotionless, but that was the way of Datsuns. He knew them well enough to tell they were broken inside. Their headlights seemed to dim imperceptibly — even though they were off to begin with. He didn’t start them up because he knew then that their reactions would be all the more evident, and he just couldn’t bear that, so he had decided to tell them without putting the key in the ignition. Maybe that made him a coward, who knows? It was easier this way. But that still didn’t make it easy.
“I’m sorry,” he resumed quickly. “There’s no garage in our house in Michigan and the driveway is only wide enough for one car, and it just wouldn’t be right to split you two up, I just know it would tear you both apart. You both need to go to a good home, a loving home, together, and we found a wonderful family that will take you both in. That’s best for all concerned. Besides, after the Doxin spill in Detroit they don’t allow Datsuns there anyway, so we couldn’t take you even if we wanted to.”
Smurt was crying now. He embraced each car in turn, making both a bodily imprint in the dust on the hood and twin runnels of tears that carved a path down to the headlights. If they couldn’t cry on their own, they were at least crying by proxy.
“I’m so, so sorry. I will miss you both so much.” Though it could have been his imagination, he could almost swear he felt the tires deflate a little as he hugged them.
“Smurt!” his wife called from the front door. “Smurt, we need to finish packing! Hurry up and say goodbye to those junkers!”
Smurt was startled and tried to smooth over the slight. “She didn’t mean that, you’re not junkers. You’re not. You’re my faithful cars, you always will be, remember that.”
Smurt stood and lovingly regarded his beautiful Datsuns one last time, and then finally turned to go inside.
“They’re not junkers, Gerfondel!” he called to his wife as he approached the door.
“They’re cars, Smurt! Old cars! They don’t have feelings, they’re just damned cars.”
“You take that back!” Smurt snapped as he closed the door behind him.
Smurt heard a pair of car horns bleat briefly beyond the door. Through the tears, he allowed himself the slightest of bittersweet smiles before going to finish packing, knowing now that they did, indeed, understand.
True story: Banfield, which I presume is the animal hospital according to Google (hence his claim that they were taken good care of because he worked there) has offices in both Portland and Michigan, where the Doxin spill occurred, so there’s kind of a neat correlation here.
*Hands MindField an Imodium*
Hope this helps with your verbal diarrhea.
🙂
Oh, thanks! Say, does that mean you’ll come back to the hot tub now?
Ewww…
Two words: Bubble bath.
Today’s sinus-enema brought to you by….Smurt, Gerfondel…and the kids.
*holy shit*
Doors, doors, and more doors, you freaky puppy.
Aw, thanks. Here’s a tissue. 😀
Not a very funny one today I suppose but I thought I’d go for an anthropomorphised tear jerker, inspired by that old Ikea commercial about the sad, discarded lamp left out for trash in the rain.
“Many of you feel sorry for these cars. That is because you are crazy. They have no feelings!”
That’s not what Christine was saying to me the other day.
-S. King
This line has me sitting in my desk chair quivering with almost-suppressed laughter while I wipe away tears. Mindfield, I adore you.
I a door him too!
Next kids’ name is Gerfondel or Smurt. I can just see it now……..
Beautiful.
That was a very sad story. But they are selfish people. I have five Datsuns and I would never ever leave them behind. If they don’t allow doxins I simply don’t go there and if I had no choice, well then I’d disguise them as Oscar Mayer Wieners, or aardvarks, or something and sneak them in anyway. Perhaps I should just look for a job in Wisconsin. I understand they have lots of badgers there and Datsuns (and doxins also) are very fond of badgers. (I think responding to old posts is the equivalent of talking to yourself and then admiring how clever you are.)
I am going to pretend the second one is asking for a rehoming fee for her idiot boyfriend and is going to keep the puppy.
I wouldn’t pay that for an idiot boyfriend. From what I’ve seen you can pick one up anywhere for a couple of obos. They may even have a special on them at Wallmert.
Artsy, some of them can be gotten for free … but the emotional toll is something else.
Amen, sista’!!!!
IDIOT BOYFRIEND FOR SALE. TAKE HIM FOR FREE.
Naw…..
Still too expensive.
To support your theory, Silva, I’d like to suggest the idea that the word doxin is the masculine form of the word doxy. The doxin in question was merely trying to get a little more cash for his services. But his girlfriend thought he was an idiot for thinking his services were worth all that.
Correction: “But his girlfriend thought he was an idiot for thinking his services were worth
shitanything at all.” There, fixed it!Good point, Lola. Thank you. After all, she is only trying to break even on the cost of taking her
cumpet doxinboyfriend to the vet.Sounds like a German child’s game.
Doxin, doxin, doxin, doxin, doxin…… goosin’.
Olly olly doxin free, or $75.
Pin the tail on the doxin.
Akio Toyoda with the doxin in the wine cellar.
Ja, das ist ein kindergamer von der vorld var zwei titlen, “Doxin doxin goosesteppen.” Ich haben sie lotten entertainen playen mit mein frunds, und ve vould runen rounder der circlen fur die commenten “doxin” vile ve tappen sie on die kopf, und zen ve vould picken der mensch und smacken sie upsiden der kopf mit der baseball batten und sprach “GOOSESTEPPEN!” und zen ze mench vould chasen ich rounded der circle until he tacklen mein feeten und kicken mich in der balles.
Ist vas fun!
I think I just peed my pants in German.
🙂
It’s always good to learn something new.
Mudslicker is my official girl crush of the day.
Yay!!!
Wanna buy a German wiener dog for cheap, christina?
I’m trying to imagine what sounds like to pee in German. Piddlen? Wisser? ICH BEIN ELIMINATEN IN MEIN LEIDERHOSEN!
EDIT: Google Translate says I just said, “I ELIMINATE LEG IN MY PANTS SORRY!”
If I change the “BEIN” to “BIN” like it should be it’s the much more sensible “I AM SORRY MY PANTS TO ELIMINATE!”
Glad we cleared that up.
Hmm… didn’t realize the German version was so…vigorous.
I was picturing it as a drinking game.
SmileyDog, you don’t just get a spleen for that, you get a whole set of internal organs!
If I was that Mich guy, I think I would find someplace else to play.
German to English translation:
You’re welcome.
Wow. For a narrative that used half real German words (the very few I know) and half made-up German-sounding words created by adding “e” or “en” on the end of an English word (that actually translated properly much of the time) that was a pretty good Engrishy translation. I never even thought to run my own text through Google Translate ‘cos I figured it would explode with all the made-up stier scheiße. 🙂
Baseball debates and goose quilts notwithstanding, of course…
Addendum: “Kick me in the ball.” I must have been channelling Hitler when I wrote that.
Also, I think I invented a new breed of avian: The Steppes Goose.
MindField you’re killin’ me!
**Flinging truckloads of doors at the Smiley Puppy**
I had a bad case of Datsun Toxins a long time ago, but the mechanic fixed it right up. That, and the penicillin. Nowadays they use pecilillin. My roommate’s idiot boyfriend tried to blow it up, but he burned his lips on the exhaust pipe. Okay, I’ll stop.
Oh no, no, no, no Windy….do go on…..
🙂
Penisillin? Pfizer make a pill for that.
Candy-coated?
It comes in a pump, too.
What?
I think my uncle drove a Datsun when I was a kid. But his was blue. That light powder blue that looks terrible on everything. Basically a bad prom suit with wheels.
Hey, at least the car didn’t have a frilly-fronted tux shirt, too.
Hey, my prom date wore a powder blue tux with the frilly shirt and it got him some. So mock if you must, but that look is a babe catcher. (if it’s 1983.)
Tanker, might I suggest that he got some in spite of the frilly shirtfront? Just wondering. 8)
Lola —
no way — that look was HOT.i>nevermind, I was a geek then too.</No way, Lola. I made him keep it on. LOL
You know the really funny part? One of the couples we went with, the guy had the EXACT SAME TUX.
Did it work for him, too? If so, your assertion about that tux being a babe magnet is starting to gain some statistical significance.
That I couldn’t tell you. But I like to think so.
Or, you may all have simply been hormonally hopped-up adolescents.
I didn’t mean to imply that it was an unbiased sample, simply that a sample size of 2 is better than a sample size of 1. Although, since Tank has no data on her second subject, the sample size of 1 is probably better for making the statistics support Tank’s theory.
This science is at least as good as the statistics on secondhand smoke, which we base laws on. I think we should outlaw the wearing of powder blue tuxedos by minors, since they cause immoral behavior. And that’s the Truth.
Yep!
When I heard the actual numbers from the main study everyone loves to cite, the immediate thought that went through my brain was, “and you’d see exactly the same statistics from a rounding error.”
I wasn’t actually refuting your attempt to get a larger sample size but, rather, pointing out that in addition to the test sample, we should really add a control group, as well.
Well in the interest of providing specific data points:
In 1979 at no time did I wear a tux of any color
Wearing of a tux had no effect on “getting some.”
Did not attend my Prom, either.
Now, as to 1983, I’d worn a tux a time or two, but black. But, by measure of “success” in attire, Cadet Mess Dress seemed to be a better choice (despite having sharp, shiney objects pinned to my person, which would have seemed to have discouraged close dancing).
However, none of those liasons had any real duration, so that might muddy their utility as “success” points for statistical purposes.
Despite owning a brace of tux, and significant improvments to Mess Dress since 1998, no wearing has generated any dis-inhibitation in the distaff, sad to say.
Cappy, I’m afraid I’m having trouble with your data. You’re saying that in 1979, you didn’t wear a powder-blue tux and you didn’t get any, right?
If you’re saying that you didn’t wear a powder-blue tux, and you got some, anyway, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disqualify you from my survey results. After all, the Truth is more important than the truth.
I’d like to volunteer for the Control group. 8)
Wait – is the control group the one that has sex with my high school boyfriend in the powder blue tux, or that does not have sex with Cappy? Or that has sex with Cappy in a powder blue tux? Or that does not have sex with my high school boyfriend while wearing Cappy’s dress blues?
I’m soooooooo confused….
To clarify, in the interest of statistical science,
I’ve never worn a blue tux in any shade.
I do own both a black and a white tux. Have worn both with a range of accessories (gold, cranberry, black and silver)–but never with a ruffled shirt, only with the flat-ribbed shirt with French (Franch c.f yesterday?) cuffs.
I own and have worn both White and Navy Blue mess dress, too.
No correleation to attire and success in ‘relations’ that i can determine, though. Other than in my cadet days, and my level of discrimnation might have been different, then, too.
@Tankerbell: The control group is made up of people who don’t wear blue tuxes and never have sex, thereby proving our hypothesis. I’m not sure why Windy wants to volunteer, but as long as she promises not to have sex for the remainder of the study, she’s welcome. I think I’m going to have trouble filling that group, as it is, so I’m not about to be picky. Although I wouldn’t wish it on a friend.
@CapnMac: Love, the more you clarify, the more confused I become. You’re not being nearly specific enough about how often you’ve had sex at various times in your life while wearing which outfits. However, since I think you’re implying that you have had sex at least once or twice, but have never worn a blue tux, I’m just going to exclude your data, anyway. So you don’t have to share . . . unless you’d like to.
I’ve always noticed that I’ve had the most sex while naked…
Well, since you chose to deliberately misunderstand me (and doors to you for it), Hammy, I will reiterate that although I’ve possibly had the most frequent opportunities for sex while baring my resemblance in public, it usually resulted in my getting arrested before fruition.
Oh, I thought the Control Group got to Control everything. Never mind. Chthulhu would not take kindly to me being in that group.
I had a light blue DATsun when I was in college. It was hell-on-wheels going down hill. Going up, ……….
Woah, woah woah
Calling a Banfield a vet’s office is like calling a TI-83 a supercomputer.
While they bare a passing resemblance to one other if you’re blind, deaf, and have no sense of touch, it’s really an insult to an actual vet.
So, yeah, that’s about what I’d expect out of someone who works at a Banfield.
Excellent point. I should have said “purported” vet’s office.
… or said “purpoodled” …
Whoa, this is like the Anti-Corey, where the poster was right in their righteous indignation!
I bare my resemblance whenever I can. For some reason, I keep getting arrested, though.
I keep asking, but all I hear is rumors!!!
All right, Bombdude, you want to hear me naked?
This site is G-rated (according to Gravatar), so I’m only going to do this once.
. . .
Did you hear that?
WOW!
Nice …’s
Maybe back in 83, but these days powder blue tuxedos with frilly shirts scream “hispter”.
*Drops the comment, letting it fall where it may*
I’ve also seen them sported by earnest HS boys who aren’t even trying to be ironic … they weren’t kidding; they (for whatever reason) actually thought they were cool. What do you mean, you’re surprised? Hasn’t YSaC taught us that some people simply have no taste?
… At least their tuxes were black.
For the non-ironic frilly pastel tux, I blame Dwayne Wade. I love me some basketball and I generally love the dress up rule that the NBA has, but the athletic nerd look has got to go.
I don’t understand the draw of owning a dog whose breed you have no idea how to spell.
My neighbor has 3 “Chiwahwahs” for sale. I would correct him only he has a penchant for running his extremely loud racecar engine at all hours of the night.
My neighbor has guns and “pitballs”…
Do your neighbor’s guns actually fire pitballs?
BLAM! Arf-Arf-Arf-Arf! THUD! Whine-whine-whine
With bees in their mouths!
Hey, would PitBall Kanon be an ideal name for a christian Punk band?
Yes, if it were not already the name of IF’s Dead Milkmen cover band.
LRC! LRC LRC LRC!
BVN! BVN! BVN! BVN!
Me and my Shit Sue agree whole-heartedly, Bavec.
Try owning a Catahoula sometime.
That’s cattle hula. How do you plan to re-home on Craigslist if you can’t speel the breed write.
My misteak.
I’m concerned about the implications of the fact pattern here:
1. Sparkette is moving tomorrow morning
2. The Datsuns had their shots
3. The Datsuns are not spayed or neutered.
4. Sparkette works at a Banfield.
5. The Datsuns are “about” a year old.
6. Sparkette has just now begun advertising her Datsuns
Fact 1 tells us that Sparkette is almost done packing, suggesting that most of her stuff has been gone through. Facts 2 through 4 suggest that she lost track of the Datsuns at some point. Because they got their shots, suggesting that either she got them from someone who was responsible enough to have gotten their shots before adopting them out, or she knew where they were at shot time. But since she works at a Banfield, one would assume that she knows about fixing pets and has access to that service, and one must assume that she knows the importance of doing so. But she couldn’t. She could no longer find the Datsuns. Since they are still in her house, that means they hadn’t run away, ergo they were in the house the whole time. Facts 5 and 6 tell us that, although she has had them for some time, Sparkette has not thought about the placement of her Datsuns until way late in the game. This suggests that either she forgot about them or was unsure whether she still had them. Neither scenario makes sense unless they were lost in clutter.
QED. Sparkette is a hoarder and the Datsuns were lost in the clutter for almost a year.
Feral Datsuns, living on discarded pizza crusts and hiding among the bales of old newspaper…
Feral Datsuns for band name of the day!!!
And the female is probably pregnant. Mini-Datsuns for everyone!
I think datsun is another word for soner.
Banfield = not a real vet clinic. It’s part of PetsMart. They give vaccinations the same way Walgreens gives flu shots. So yeah, not surprised that this genius worked at one.
[Video game corey] There is a game on the old Dreamcast system called “Blue Stinger”, and in one of the side quests, you go fetch a can of Doxin out of a vending machine for a guy to get his Managers Keycard. [/video game corey]
Smedley, my love, you are as much a part of the Snark Lounge as the lovely cave art on the walls and that odd stain Hammy refuses to explain. When are you gonna get yourself a cool avatar and quit bein’ a quilt square?
I would have to change my name, as some other jackwagon is currently using it.
Would I be as snarktastic as Smedlee? Methinks there would again be gender confusion.
Oh, I guess I will try. Tomorrow, I will attempt to change, after payroll is done, and I have some free time.
I don’t think Gravatar cares what your name is, Smedley. Theoretically, you only have to use the same email address. I have not tested this, but I think the llamanun said so, so it must be true.
Tried it when I initially de-lurked, and was told to pick another name. I’ll see again tomorrow. Maybe something delightful involving pitbulls and bees happened to the usurper, and I can use the name.
Names in the fora have to be unique (see: Not.A.Moira) but they don’t have to be here in the comments. You can fill in whatever you like for the name field. The avatar image is linked to the email address.
It’s possible you tried to use a username at Gravatar that was already taken, but that name doesn’t show up here, if I remember correctly, so it doesn’t matter what you use.
You can use any name you want on gravatar as long as your email is the one you use here. Your name here can be what ever you want, as you can see from mine.
And mine.
But not mine, because I used a different email address.
It’s a pecil mark.
This we knew. But… on the ceiling?
*Cough*
Yeah, I’m rather proud of that.
There once was a Ham from Nantucket…
It *has* been awhile…
Ugh, been a long tough Thursday.
Was out quite late for the Memorial, which is always frought with emotion. being solo added another dimension which was neither welcome nor unwelcome.
Spending the day suffering was not good–but that was a result of the free tacos from Jack the day before.
Which was actually good, as Verizon had another uh-oh where aDSL was out most of the day. So, one reset on the modem, and I was returned to the intertubes. If after five CST, and well after most of my ‘imaginary friends’ had gone home. oh well, one presses Onward, ever Onward!
I’m not always sure what’s wrong, but I hope everything improves for you soon, Cap’n!
Don’t forget about your imaginary friends on the west coast, or those of us with no concept of a reasonable bedtime.
Ah, point quite well-taken.
If with a grain of salt considering the the wall-of-posts that can swirl around HHNF and Beau et al.
Yeah, Cap’n. I’m imaginary and I’m on the West Coast. And I have no concept of a reasonable bedtime.
So, guess you figured out why Jack was giving those tacos away, eh?
I’m imaginary, on the East Coast, have no concept of a reasonable bedtime, and am wearing a poncho. So there.
Sadly, yes–or that the help was more than tired of making them to give away.
had not thought to wear a poncho–might try that . . . <G>
Mindfield Smiley Dog, Punchity Punchity Punchity Punchity Punch Punch! Gotta start giving out punches that match the winning comment more closely.
G’Night, Michugganas!