It's pretty simple, really. When that bus of schoolkids went off the cliff, it happened to jump over a shark as it hit the water.
I think the only thing in that show that frustrated me more than the second season was... well... the third season. I actually bought the second season DVDs, for reasons I have yet to understand. I won't be buying season 3.
I picked it up in much the same way I picked up most of the British words, phrases, and spellings in my vocabulary. That is, through watching British TV and reading things (books, blogs, forum postings, etc.) written by Brits. Every now and then I'll make an effort to stop using it for fear that it sounds too affected, but I invariably give up.
Like Jennifer @64, many British spellings are so firmly entrenched that I have to consciously Americanize my spelling at times. I'm not sure I've ever spelled 'grey' with an 'a'. I used to make the 'theatre'/'theater' distinction, too, but the -re ending seems to have taken over completely now.
Serge @ 503: Oh god, how I wish. Catapults I could do. Gasoline... not so much. There was an interesting dismemberment and defenestration incident that makes my mother cringe to this very day, though.
That's what they get for making a Ken doll with a screw-off head.
When my younger brother was a toddler, my mother scoured the earth to find an anatomically correct boy doll for him. She found one. Its name was Billy, I think, but it's been a long time and I may be mistaken. That's the name it came with. He did play with it, I think, which is more than I can say about my own doll habits. Mostly my dolls tended to die horrible deaths. Not that he came out of it with any sort of nurturing tendencies. The desire to continue our species seems to have skipped over all the kids in my family.
At any rate, born between two brothers as I was, I preferred playing with Legos and miniature catapults and water pistols. My mother often despaired of turning me into a proper girl, whatever that is. She never did really manage it, I don't think, though I've mostly stopped wearing men's clothing and do now love makeup. I spent much of my childhood lamenting that I wasn't born a boy and railing against the injustices of being forced to put on fashion shows and learn to apply makeup (at age 9!) in Girl Scouts when my brother's Boy Scout troop got to spend a night on a submarine. (Sixteenish years later and I'm still bitter!)
Kit @ 114: Presumably when bone fragments or marrow gets caught up in the bloodstream and causes a blockage. But I'm no doctor.
My neighbor's daughter was in a very nasty accident just last week or so and is now the only person I've ever met who was lucky not to be wearing her seatbelt. She was in the back, riding with three friends. A young woman smashed into their car, which smashed into some sort of rock formation and rolled several times. My neighbor's daughter was thrown out the back window at some point and wound up with a nasty concussion and some lacerations, but the seat where she'd been sitting was crushed entirely.
On the other hand, the people who used to live next door to me once had a son. His own family was unable to recognize his body.
On a cheerier note, my older brother was once rear ended by a school bus that failed to stop at a red light. He was belted and came away with only a mild concussion and some neck pain.
I am invariably male in internet tests of any kind, be it prose style or the brain test on the BBC site.
Sometimes I wonder if these "religious left" people are actually sent from the religious right to undermine the Democratic Party.
I know it's been a while since anyone mentioned FBoFW, but since several people asked about Michael Patterson's novel, I thought I'd chip in with a link.
On the strip's official site, you can read monthly letters from the characters. Michael's past few letters will give you a good idea of the drivel he's just gotten published.
And the one little boy who chased them the whole way didn't even get the water in the end. Fucking cruel sons of bitches.
This is a hell of a birthday present for me.
Thank you, Mr. Lamont, for insisting your voice be heard.
Thanks for this post, Patrick. I usually do what you do, voting the Democrats on their line (except that there seems to be usually one guy on my ballot endorsed by Working Families who's also endorsed by the Right to Life party and... ugh, no), but not this year.
My true love, he is handsome and comely for to see,
and by a sad misfortune a soldier now is he.
I wish the man that listed him might prosper night nor day
and I wish that, and I wish that the Hollanders
might sink him in the sea.
Oh, may he never prosper and may he never thrive,
nor anything he turns his hand as long as he's alive.
May the very ground he treads upon the grass refuse to grow,
for he's been the, for he's been the only cause of
my sorrow, grief and woe.
As the girlfriend of a soldier who will find out in a week whether his stop-loss orders have come through (which will keep him in the army for approximately 15 extra months, 12 of them in Afghanistan), that one seemed appropriate. I am sick with fury.
Oh god. I knew him only from reading what he contributed here, and some of the links above, but... god. This is a tragedy. I'm so sorry.
I was in high school in the late '90s, when a dreadful movie called Urban Legend came out. In the very beginning, a young woman is decapitated with an axe while singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart". Now, I associate that song with decapitations.
...I think I like pirouetting ninjas better.
I've decided to blame the weather on George Bush, too, instead of just blaming him for potential power outages. It makes me feel better.
Not cooler, just better.
Oh, hell.
I'm mostly a lurker, but I'm very sorry to hear about this trouble. I hope things start improving soon.
As always, if there's anything we nearly-anonymous blog readers can do to help, aside from keeping you in our thoughts and prayers, you need only ask.
Teresa, you make my geeky little brain happy. I was just thinking a couple of days ago that I should find my old notes from Intro to Old English and brush up again, because I missed that language so.
Though, this post does confirm that I've forgotten almost as much as I feared I had. Oh well.
Owlmirror, I don't know if I can read your comment so easily because it really is easy, or because I've gotten so accustomed to reading horribly spelled modern English on the internet.
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