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Company Christmas party yesterday, complete with open bar. Wee bit hung over this morning, so I'm not moving very quickly. Also, if you try sarcasm on me, there's a good chance I won't get it at the moment. (Fun part of the party - spent a couple of hours playing blackjack. Started with 500 in chips and wound up with 200. So not a total bust. And I was playing 200 a hand. No, not *real* money.)
Random thought of the day which came about through my flist - in sci-fi, why *aren't* there more sentient penis stories?
Heh heh. Scrubs:
Mr. Peeps: If you don't do it, I will.
J.D.: Mr. Peeps? Why are you British?
Mr. Peeps: I'll explain later.
Random thought of the day which came about through my flist - in sci-fi, why *aren't* there more sentient penis stories?
Heh heh. Scrubs:
Mr. Peeps: If you don't do it, I will.
J.D.: Mr. Peeps? Why are you British?
Mr. Peeps: I'll explain later.

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*iz ded jealous*
Someone went into my pantry and drank all the bourbon. When I find out who did it, that person will be in trouble.
*wonders if M will spotthe sarcasm* ;)
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OMG!
*wonders if M will spotthe sarcasm* ;)
Hrm...
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Because sentient penises are bad beyond camp, and the male sci-fi writers are afraid that if they write about them, they'll never get laid again. The female sci-fi writers just can't stop laughing long enough to finish any sentient penis stories.
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