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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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it's really just something you don't expect to hear
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
My dad is very blue collar conservative, which is something that has bewildered me since I realized what platform Reagan ran under, yet he voted for Clinton the first time around, yet he listens to Rush Limbaugh like a religious figure. My dad, he is legion.

He's also hysterical.

Today, he eagerly awaited TMZ so as to catch up on news of the Jamie Lynn Spears pregnancy while debating with my two sisters whether or not Britney, too, was knocked up again.

There's a second of surreality that comes with this, since it also came up at work. My boss, staring mournfully into the distance of the cubicle farm (cubicle nation, even), murmurs, "Who would have thought anything could make Kevin Federline look like a responsbile, sober individual?"

....who are these people and what have they done with my father and my boss????

Suffice to say, tomorrow, we're going pod-hunting. I saw on TV they usually are piled in easily accessed storage rooms or beneath desks, and I filed away that useful bit of sci-fi trivia just for a day like this. Does anyone remember how to take out the pods, or will a letter opener, a staple gun, and a grim expression do the trick?

I need to lie down now.


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I think the letter opener and staple gun should be enough, but imo, a grim expression when hunting aliens is always appropriate.


*looks into the distance* If I don't come back, remember me. And have an online vigil. With porn.

What other kind of online vigil is there?

A very, very bad one. My spirit will prefer the dirtier the better.

It's been a long since I saw Invasion of the Body-Snatchers, but I wanna say that you need fire.

Good luck hunting!

Ooh. And this means I can also say "Kill it! KILL IT WITH FIRE." And be totally in context and on topic.

My life? Officially complete.

...and love is fire too.




There are no words...really...

I've been trying to repress.

(Deleted comment)
And I thought it was weird when I had the following conversation with my dad, who, you should understand, is a high-minded intellectual type always trying to get me to read the classics.

DAD: Have you read this vampire book?
ME: No, I'm in the middle of the Pallisers--
DAD: Oh, you've got to. It's the bomb.
ME: I... okay, but after Trollope I'm going on to Dumas, and... (trails off)
DAD: (stares blankly)
DAD: The. Bomb.

(For the record, it was The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova.)

You're doing it again, zelempa, talking Trollope!

Okay, I'm taking this as a sign from God that my next serious project should be to choose a novel by Trollope (of which I have several at hand, and organized, too!) and start reading!

As for Seperis' original post about her dad - wow! I thought I'd heard everything when my dad, many years ago, let me and my husband know that he watched pro wrestling! If you knew my dad (he's gone now), you'd know how incredibly unbelievable this was to me!

Love, max

P.S. - My dad believed it was REAL! Love, max

A spray bottle with something ordinary like salt water should do the trick. If that doesn't work, try something citrusy like lemonade.

*makes note* I will need this, I think.

Road flares, dude. You totally need road flares.

*enchanted* Now that is guaranteed to be *fun*.


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