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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 21:51:52 GMT -5
From the latest bit of my current WIP: "A few errant brains fell over her eyes."
That is much more disgusting that what I was trying to type.
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Post by Becca Mills on May 3, 2014 22:29:35 GMT -5
That's excellent.  |
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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 22:45:29 GMT -5
What I intended to write is much less likely to result in an eye infection, I'll tell you that.
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Post by Becca Mills on May 3, 2014 22:49:56 GMT -5
What I intended to write is much less likely to result in an eye infection, I'll tell you that. I'd guess you meant "a few errant berets," but berets get pretty gross pretty fast. |
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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 22:53:21 GMT -5
What I intended to write is much less likely to result in an eye infection, I'll tell you that. I'd guess you meant "a few errant berets," but berets get pretty gross pretty fast. Braids, dammit! I meant "braids," okay?  |
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Post by Becca Mills on May 3, 2014 22:54:33 GMT -5
I'd guess you meant "a few errant berets," but berets get pretty gross pretty fast. Braids, dammit! I meant "braids," okay? OH! Well, braids are okay. Unless you're four and put them in your oatmeal three days back. |
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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 22:56:40 GMT -5
Braids, dammit! I meant "braids," okay? OH! Well, braids are okay. Unless you're four and put them in your oatmeal three days back. If that's the only braid option, I'll take the errant brains falling over my eyes. |
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Post by Becca Mills on May 3, 2014 22:57:47 GMT -5
OH! Well, braids are okay. Unless you're four and put them in your oatmeal three days back. If that's the only braid option, I'll take the errant brains falling over my eyes. You could go for erotic braids, instead. Those would be French. |
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Post by Suzy on May 4, 2014 2:48:56 GMT -5
Don't say braids! I have braid trauma. I was braided until I was five. My hair was braided and then stuck on top of my head every day. Then my sister cut one of them off with the kitchen scissors.  |
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2014 7:47:36 GMT -5
"A few errant brains fell over her eyes." Holy crap I want to work that phrase in to a story! I'm thinking.... zombies and explosives.... hehehehehehe |
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Post by Becca Mills on May 4, 2014 13:26:46 GMT -5
Don't say braids! I have braid trauma. I was braided until I was five. My hair was braided and then stuck on top of my head every day. Then my sister cut one of them off with the kitchen scissors. View Attachment OMG, so cute!!! (Not the scissors part. Bad sister!) |
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Post by Suzy on May 4, 2014 13:34:43 GMT -5
Don't say braids! I have braid trauma. I was braided until I was five. My hair was braided and then stuck on top of my head every day. Then my sister cut one of them off with the kitchen scissors. View Attachment OMG, so cute!!! (Not the scissors part. Bad sister!) Oh, yes, BAD sister! But I have this memory of thinking: "boy, is she going to get into trouble".  And she did. But I was sad about my hair that then had to be cut...  |
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2014 13:52:46 GMT -5
I thought you meant trains.
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2014 14:07:56 GMT -5
I thought you meant trains. Perfectly understandable. We've all had the annoyance of errant trains getting into our eyes. |
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Post by lindymoone on May 5, 2014 0:34:13 GMT -5
Don't say braids! I have braid trauma. I was braided until I was five. My hair was braided and then stuck on top of my head every day. Then my sister cut one of them off with the kitchen scissors. Am I the only one who wants to know what happened to your braid? Perhaps it went on an adventure... or three. I, too, was traumatized by braids -- or rather, the sudden lack of them. My little sister cut the braids off my doll. Her name was Joanne. That was the doll's name, that is. My sister's name shall never be spoken... She also chewed the knee out of my poseable Barbie doll, just to see why it posed, and blamed the mouse that lived under the piano. |
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Post by Deleted on May 5, 2014 0:42:38 GMT -5
Don't say braids! I have braid trauma. I was braided until I was five. My hair was braided and then stuck on top of my head every day. Then my sister cut one of them off with the kitchen scissors. Am I the only one who wants to know what happened to your braid? Perhaps it went on an adventure... or three. I, too, was traumatized by braids -- or rather, the sudden lack of them. My little sister cut the braids off my doll. Her name was Joanne. That was the doll's name, that is. My sister's name shall never be spoken... She also chewed the knee out of my poseable Barbie doll, just to see why it posed, and blamed the mouse that lived under the piano. Am I the only one that wants some of whatever lindymoone is having right now? |
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Post by Becca Mills on May 5, 2014 0:56:57 GMT -5
Am I the only one that wants some of whatever lindymoone is having right now? I thought that was a rose, but maybe it's a poppy! |
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Post by lindymoone on May 5, 2014 8:10:45 GMT -5
I do live in Turkey -- and my mother-in-law's family business (legal, back then!) was growing opium poppies!
But you were right; that is a Joseph's Coat rose.
You are not the first to suggest that my bullshit is chemically enhanced, but sadly I can claim no such excuse...
If I ever get plastered I'll head over to the drunk thread, though.
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Post by vrabinec on May 5, 2014 11:22:20 GMT -5
I thought you meant trains. Perfectly understandable. We've all had the annoyance of errant trains getting into our eyes. I was in one of those trains once. You definitely don't wanna end up at the bottom of one of those. No telling what'll get in your eye. |
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And she did. But I was sad about my hair that then had to be cut... 
