Posts Tagged ‘qotd’

QotD: Unexpected Dinner Guests

You have four unexpected guests showing up for dinner in less than an hour, you haven't been to the store in days, and you want to impress them with a delicious meal. What do you serve them?

This is just what they invented take out to deal with.
I would impress them with my mad phone it in skills.

Hey, maybe they can stop by and get it on their way in?

(If I haven't been out in days, I probably don't feel like going out now either: Hermits R Us)

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QotD: Hello, My Name is…

If you were born the opposite sex, what would your name be?

This one is soooo easy.

I have four older sisters.

They had the boy's name all picked out and ready for any of us, if any of us had ended up being a boy.

So I was the fifth in a row not to be named James Kindred (a family name, it seems).

I've always been glad I wasn't.

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QotD: Vox’s Presidential Approval Poll

Polling groups like to track the approval rating of politicians.  What's your approval rating for President George W. Bush?  

I can't put "approval" and "George W. Bush" in a sentence together.
Just think negative numbers.

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QotD: Never Going Back Again – oh wait, it’s gone now anyway

What's been your worst experience at a restaurant?

A friend was always trying to take us to his favorite Mexican place, but somehow we had avoided it for a long time.
(Okay, I'm picky, and there are a lot of good ones around here.)
Anyway, we end up there one day with a big group of people, and I've got my plate and it's alright.
Not as good as my local favorite, but okay.
Everyone is busy telling said friend how nice the place is, because he has to be right.
So okay, he can be right.
Fine, fine, that's alright with me.

It wasn't supposed to be a huge bunch of people anyway.
Friend is one of those guys who turn up with ten extra people anytime you do something.
Because who doesn't like just ending up in a mob?
So I'm just lying sort-of low until I can escape.
Minding my business and eating.
Then I find a hunk of tortilla in my refried beans.
With teethmarks in it.

Actually, I didn't say anything at the time.
Stopped eating, and just pushed stuff around on the plate.
I think if I hadn't been stuck at a loud crowded (obnoxious) table full of people, I'd have pointed it out to the waitress.
But as it was, she was already having a hard time.
So I just left it, and finally made my escape.
(Because the movie plans had changed anyway, because what we'd set-up to do wasn't what the group decided to do, so the time frame changed and I could escape.)
I'm not anti-social, no.
Not me.

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QotD: Indecision 2008 — and every year!

What do you think of Stephen Colbert's satirical bid for the U.S. Presidency?  

All for it, the more the merrier.

But you gotta love the classics.
(From Nobody's Campaign Manager, at

On December 8, 1975, at the United
State Cafe
, on Haight
, in San Francisco, I spoke with Wavy
about voter

I pointed to some statistics that
showed people were not registering
to vote
and aproximately 50% or less of the registered voters made
it to the polls.

Wavy responded, "You mean Nobody is
winning the Presidential elections?"

That question became the
spark that ignited the Birthday
"Nobody for President Campaign".

Wavy became "Nobody's
", I became "Nobody's Campaign
", and the rest is history.


For those of you who missed the campaign, the platform contained such undeniable gems as:

Because Nobody really cares about the voters.
Because Nobody deserves this much power.

And, hey, the percentage of people voting for Nobody just keeps going up.

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QotD: It’s A Small World

This all happened back when Sair, now 17, was a toddler, and we lived in LA.

Sair had only just discovered that other children are fun! Which meant we went out parks a lot, to find other children, because everyone we knew in LA either had no children, or their kids were in high school. After a bit of investigation, I found a park not too far from us, not built next to the freeway (which seems to be a common option), not filled with scary dudes doing business, and sufficiently equipped with kids' stuff to be interesting and to attract possible playmates.

And, sure enough,there are crowds of kids, and Sair meets up with a sweet kid her age named something like Naomi. The two of them have a lovely day playing, and her mom and I talk briefly. When we go back later that week, Naomi is there again, and this time I make a point hanging out with her mother.

The woman was pretty cool. I basically heard her life story — this happens a lot when you have two adults sitting at the sandbox for a couple of hours. She was a little younger that I was (well, pretty much all the moms were, since I had Sair when I was 37), but she wasn't just a kid: she'd finished college, and had an interesting job for years. Then she'd met a guy, gotten married, and had a kid. She was staying home with Naomi, because she and her husband both liked the idea, and he could support them all, though things were, of course, tight. We got rushed leaving, and made noises about maybe getting each other's phone numbers next time, because they always came to this park, and maybe meeting there regularly.

Fine and good.

So the next time we go to the park, sure enough Naomi is there. But her mom is nowhere to be seen. Sair runs off to play with Naomi, and I let them hang out in the sandbox while I sit on a bench. (I don't mind sitting on the ground for an hour or two, but benches are easier.) I'm keeping an eye on the kids and leafing through a magazine, generally rather bored. I can't help but overhear the two men on the next bench.

At first they are talking about business. Apparently they both do some kind of dealing in expensive collectible things, jewelry and such. They are discussing finding them cheap, and pricing them. It's actually kind of interesting, so after a while I am just holding my magazine and listening to them.

Then the younger of the two starts riffing on how he is hiding assets, and asking the oldre one for advice.  The method he described involved accumulating cash and then investing it in things like gold coins. You then stash these someplace secret where that bitch you married will never find them. And then there was lots more discussion of how to protect any more visible assets from said bitch in a divorce.

At which point Naomi comes over to show her daddy something.


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QotD: I was what? Pardon me, what is this question again?

How often are you wrong?  Do you find it difficult to admit it when you are? 
Submitted by emily ann.

How often am I what?
I can't quite make sense of this question.
Obviously it just doesn't apply.

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