Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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Shpringtime for MEEEEEEE! Ha, ha, Lynne!

Yes, Lynne, you were officially the first to mention Hitler in the Post That Wont Die. Although you were being FUNNY, ergo, it doesn't count. I've created a mathematical equation representing the effect of mocking as done by Nazis (is there anyone else who mocks, though? I mean really.), Snuff Films and Cancer when raised to the degree of half-wit:

MNfo(s - i) = S/C

M = Mocking
N = Nazism
f,o = fallacy multiplied by obfuscation
s, i = halfwit minus intellect
S = snuff film (in ratio with)
C = cancer

Now. you can solve for cancer types, or the quantitative sum of Nazis in a given thread by- No. No you can't. But I am STILL laughing over mocking causes cancer. And is equal to snuff films. And I made icons!!

1.Image hosting by Photobucket 2. Image hosting by Photobucket 3. Image hosting by Photobucket

Different version...
4. Image hosting by Photobucket 5. Image hosting by Photobucket 6. Image hosting by Photobucket

I overheard stultiloquentia say #6. #5 reads: "Und the verd ist shpelled: T- H- E." I have a 300 x 300 image of this on my desktop.

And seriously. There is no way in hell my ass can endure this chair long enough to reply to everyone that is STILL replying to that post. I'm a big believer in replying to every comment left in my LJ, but sometimes... Oh gimmie a break. So if you have posted and not heard from me, that's because I'm doing something ELSE. Away from there. Hats off to swmbo for keeping on with the robust debate, even though she was beating her head against a wall. Cheers, and again with the beaming at your skilz of a debator!

For the three who are still interested, I'll sum up my fantastic weekend with my best friend, who I don't get to see often enough. She's beautiful, funny, silly, and we laughed a lot. We mocked a lot. I immediately checked her into MD Anderson as a tumor grew on her face from the mocking. I kid! It was on her back. I am INCREDIBLY sore, as she is the Most Fit Human on Earth and pushes me to be in constant motion. TO HER CREDIT: she rubbed my knees and calves and I feel a thousand times better.

Until Saturday. I mean, she runs 8-10 miles every day for MAINTENANCE. In addition to working on a horse farm. And riding her bike every where. FIT. But she drinks Diet Coke, so I mocked her for that. And she punched me. I don't know why I'm still friends with her...

We met in college, both of us incredibly lonely and out of place in Utard. I mean Utah. She was born there, loves the desert, hates makeup and the race to "get a man," is quiet and thoughtful and funny and doesn't spend hours on her hair, and so she stuck out. I was mouthy, curvaceous (seriously, Mormon girls come in two sizes: stick thin or lumberjack), silly, boy crazy, and hated girls who's whole existence was to "get married." The locals didn't know what to do with me. A professor who was also a friend, told me he had someone for me to meet, and he'd take me to a restaurant to meet this mystery person that he knew I would "absolutely fall in love with." Chicky bow. It was Chrissy. Well, he was right.

Friday night we watched The Aristocrats together, with all of the deleted scenes from Bob Saget (He is honestly one of my most favorite stand ups. Soooooo wrong. Dana Gould is a close second.) Nothing is sacred, there are no boundaries. We can talk candidly about anything and everything. We have never argued in all the years we've known each other. We also made my husband sleep on the sofa. I forgot how fun it is to be tucked into a nice, warm bed and giggle on the pillow, struggling to stay awake and keep talking. We cried a little when I dropped her off. The kids moped all yesterday. She brings happiness and energy, and if I could murder her, grind her into a liquid and put her in a spray bottle to spritz her about the house, I wouldn't, because I think she would stain the walls. Not that murder is bad, mind you, and trust me when I say that she appreciates it wouldn't be to KILL her, but...

I just think she'd stain. Definitely clog up the sprayer nozzle.

In other news, my boy's birthday was Sunday. It was 75 degrees, blue skies, and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. Unless it started raining 100 dollar bills. Okay, I could have asked for a better day but I DIDN'T. So what does that say about me? I am AWESOME, that's what. Or really, really dumb. Can you ask for better days? Does that work?
Poll #663719 Better Days - Myth? Or Mreal?

If I had asked for a better day, would I have gotten it?

Yes! Man, are YOU stupid.
No, what are you, stupid?
I like mayonaise.
If I ground YOU up, I'd put you in a sprayer bottle.

I think I need to channel this energy into a run, so Chrissy doesn't watch me from On High and point because I am LAZY. And so? I exercise. *wanders off whistling*

(The icon for this post was made by yin_again for my son's b-day last year. Siiiigh. He's so teeny and perfect. Thanks again, Yin.)

[ETA]: I have changed my LJ name. Ahem.
Tags: icon post!
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