Darkwing Duck?

If you start on a hangover with a hangover, is what you have the next day a hang-hangover or a hangover-over?

Then it becomes an overhangover.

Of course.

I would have called it a night after the cosmopolitans, but Manitoba was celebrating his eponymous bar's 6th birthday with 1999 prices. After a while I realised that the price of beer has hardly changed since 1999.

I guess you partied like it was 1999.

Please, Ivan, my ribs are aching, spare me.

Charles Perry is my favorite living writer.

CHARLES PERRY LOVEFEST!!!

Please refrain, Ivan.

I'm staying on topic by being annoying.

Ivan: Watch it, or Pricilla is going to call badge numbers on you.

Well, dunno what badge numbers refers to, but please, as the Knight of Columbus bumperstickers say, "Keep the S in PriScilla."

All the best cooks are saints.

Unfunny jokes

Growing pains

Great show! Very annoying!

My two year old currently eats everything in the manner of Cookie Monster. Very annoying.

I do it, too.

My downstairs neighbors come home from wherever they have been partying at 4 AM on a weekday and turn on Bon Jovi and have "Living on a Prayer" singalong at the top of their lungs with all their friends. Then they switch to Green Day "Time of Your Life" and run up and down their hallway, stomping their feet like gigantic pseudo-hippie trolls, singing and singing and singing. Then they slam their doors, jump up and down (from the sounds of it) and run all throughout the common hallways of the building in an absolute 19-year-old drunken frenzy.

Then they lock their door on whichever ass-wasted boy wants to come in and sleep with one of them, so we can all hear him at 5 AM pounding their door down, screaming: "Ally! Pleeeease let me in! Ally! I promise! I promise! I don't know what happened! I was in there, now I am out heeeere! I am so drunk! I promise! I promise!"

Yet they still wake up promptly at 9 AM and begin a singalong, perhaps Janis Joplin, or Eric Clapton, or even Bob Marley! They have a pot plant growing right in their front window which they claim is OK because "dude, it's the wrong sex to make buds out of! Hee hee!"

They also take our wet laundry out of the washer and throw it on the floor so they can put theirs in. They don't even think to put it in the dryer.

And their fat fucking dog shits all over the lawn.

To combat them when they have been especially horrid, I wake up before them, at 8 AM, and take my stereo speakers and place them facedown on the floor right above their bedrooms. Then I commence to blast Wu-Tang Clan "Up From the 36 Chambers" or Slayer "Reign in Blood" or the Toasters "Hard Band for Dead" or, God forgive me, George Michael's greatest hits. Whatever I think will curdle their fake-hippie blood.

When they pound on the ceiling, I simply switch to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. They particularly like "Southern Cross." I think it soothes them.

Also, I turn their power off quite often. And whenever I see that door-pounding dude, I yell at him out of the window: "I don't know what happened! I was in there, now I am out heeeere!" He jumps every time, just as if I had poked him with a pin!

And the next time they have a party, I'm going in there and stealing their fucking pot plant.

There is good material there, but should you consider moving to a more conventional environment?

The fat fucking dog gave me my first laugh of the day. Thank you. I've used the face-down speaker ploy before. Preferred artistes: early Public Image, Throbbing Gristle.

Dear NeroW,

Your neighbors sound so like new exponents of Apartment Neighbors I Have Known.

Only mine were more like, what Cathy said about hers elsewhere -- fake bikers? Yes. Had no bikes. One of 'em inevitably a guy with a full leg cast hobbling around on crutches who never wore a shirt nor changed his greasy jeans. The WORST music imaginable, like Lynyrd Skynyrd.

NeroW, re-Welcome, just for that post.

Fucking black tie bar/bat mitzvahs

Yech

Even worse would be if you have to travel to get there. Maybe you'll be snow-prevented?

See now I would look at it as a good opportunity to get dressed up. And wear a hat.

The question 'how do you like to be addressed' from some pretentious cow. Wish I had the nerve to respond 'Princess Vanessa'. Similarly those who ask: are you Mrs or Miss. My one word response 'neither' always puts their noses out of joint.

v

Oddly, I only refer to myself as Miss online. Offline I've been Ms for years. Weird, no?