(no subject)

[bubosquared]

Fleur: Two of my fish are playing dead and the third is playing invisible. Wow. Um. I need help.

Melle: I want Terence to come be my domestic bitch.
Fleur: Wearing a maid's outfit.
Melle: ...
Fleur: broken?
Melle: Aand there goes my last braincell. I am now offically Oliver Wood.
Fleur: Keeper, captain and adjective!
Melle: I want that on a mug.
Fleur: So do I.

Fleur: Aw, dude, it's Oliver. Show him something shiny and he'll trust you.

Melle: ... okay, when Disney songs remind you of resistance!HP M/O, it's tme to lay off the crack, self.

Fleur: Dude, I was just saying to Mireille, worse than Oliver and Marcus? Oliver and Terence raising a child. It'd be JC. JC is Terence and Oliver's lovechild!

I am not in denial! Why should I be tarred with the epithet "in denial" merely because I do not harass people? I've heard tell that Sir Gerald Nabarro did not bother people - you wouldn't call him in denial! Furthermore Dawn Pathorpe, the lady showjumper, did not hassle people, out of respect of the late chancellor. Alan Bullock neither annoys nor pesters, and Marcel Proust didn't ask! So if you're calling the author of A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu in denial, I shall have to ask you to step outside!
And if you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquialism to imply that my sanity is not up to scratch, or that I deny the semi-existence of reality, I shall have to ask you to listen to this. Take it away, Eric the orchestra-leader.
Reality, philosophically,
Must, in denial, not quite be.
But reality has got to be
Vis a vis, its entity. D'you see?
(In which I am on crack; LJ comment)

Melle: You know, one day, I'm coming over to visit you.
Fleur: Brilliant. Room 211. Knock before entering.
Melle: And when you come pick me up from the airport, I'm going to yell "WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" in greeting.
Fleur: And fully across the airport I'll yell "BOLE'S YOUR DADDY, BABY!"
Melle: And then we'll end up sharing a room in a mental institution.

V: <-- has apparently been taking Marcus' coke.
V: Thus the incoherency.
Melle: SEE? You're just PROJECTING your own problems on poor Marcus, you COKEHEAD!
V: Shhh!
V: You can't let that get out, bitch!
V: It's MARCUS with the problem, man.
Melle: COKEHEAD!
V: <-- inwitting pawn.
V: Er. UNwitting pawn.
Melle: INWITTING? WTF?
Melle: WOKEHEAD!
Melle: Er.

Fleur: Question.
Melle: AHAHAHA!
Fleur: Which I just typo'd as Quidditch.

Silvia: House with new coat of paint: 100 Galleons
Dress robes from the last decade: 8 Galleons
A wand that functions: 7 Galleons
There are some things money can buy.
For everything else, there's Ron.
V: What are you trying to say? That Ron's --?
Melle: That's right. Ron is a credit card.
(In which I feel the need to be a smartass; LJ entry and comments)

Melle: *bullies people, getting in touch with her inner Bole*
Fleur: YEAH!
Fleur: Touch your inner Bole, dude!
Melle: ... ew?
Fleur: Yeah.
Fleur: I wish I hadn't said that.

Fleur: Whoa whoa whoa. Writing incestfic = you're a child molester? I think I've missed a few steps there. Or else it's a theory by Oliver.

Melle: I love Johnny Cash.
Fleur: I love cheese.
Melle: I want to smack Draco around.
Fleur: I want to snark at Oliver.
(Random much?)

Melle: See, this is why I need a life. My big fantasy involves smacking a fictional character around a bit.

Melle: Is there any reason Terence and Oliver are dancing around to The Cure in my head; or are they just randomly being annoying?

Melle: ... V is kicking her own RP char in my LJ. Um.
Fleur: What's funny is that she replied to her own comment to do that.

Mireille: This is why no one should ever touch Marcus. Ever. It makes you STUPID.

Fleur: Dammit! Where's Snitch-for-Brains when you need him? (Answer: in Canada)

Melle: Bwahahaha! My football boys and I will TAKE OVER THE WORLD, one lick at a time! >:)

Melle: I AM NOT A FISH!
Fleur: YOU ARE A FISH!
Fleur: YOU ARE!
Melle: AM NOT!
Fleur: ARE TOO!
Fleur: FISH!
Melle: NOT!

Jeanne: I probably should not be enjoying hanging Christmas ornaments on a crucified Jesus.

Sam: Also, as stated in my newest IM away message, I just managed to finish a two-hour, 95-question COBOL final in forty minutes ... if there were a way to make computer science sexy, I just did it.

In other news, Fleur and I are RPing the most disturbing random RP ever. Just sayin'.

Comments

[stoptocheer.livejournal.com]

Melle: I want to smack Draco around.
Fleur: I want to snark at Oliver.

THAT WAS NOT AT ALL RANDOM WHEN YOU REMEMBER WHAT IT'S ABOUT.

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

It wsa, however, completely randomly injected into the conversation. And also, THAT IS THE GAYEST ICON EVER! Thank you.

[deepsix.livejournal.com]

Someone in my politics class did a seminar on crack/cocaine this afternoon, and I really wanted to know when the Marcus/Lee was going to enter the picture. Because god, you can't have coke without Marcus and you can't have crack without Lee.

[kaitoujeanne.livejournal.com]

And also the computer that caught on fire. And the CD player. That became a tape player. That became a table. And was then left outside in the rain.

One woman wrecking crew, woo!

Re:

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

Woooo! :D

Re:

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

WOKEHEAD!

Re:

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

(I'm one to talk, really, considering what's going on in my IM window right now ...)

[larean.livejournal.com]

:D

[deepsix.livejournal.com]

*wipes nose*

Re:

[bubosquared.livejournal.com]

You = amusing!