golden years...go-old. wopwopwop.

[christina_ricci]

Converted Pastafarian: Hail, all ye Xenu subscribers, Jesus bashing is officially passe. Cast away your Christ Was A Pedophile t-shirt's and burn them like the suffragette shackles of yesterday! The poor, defenseless Christians have done SO LITTLE to deserve your persecution. No, no. Cease your mocking laughter! I have embraced the awesome Power of

Comments

[murphycill]

The flying spaghetti monster sees all, beware.

[christina_ricci]

Cillian Murphy, I fear the wrath of Spaghetti. I feel the spirit of meatballs. But do you?

[murphycill]

Christinna Ricci, I'd fear the wrath of indigestion where meatballs are involved. We shall prevail.

[christina_ricci]

Worry not! For The Flying Monster provides Its own brand of Pious Mylanta.

[mcgregor_ewan]

Ramen, Christina. Ramen.

[christina_ricci]

Oh Ewan. Why do you look so glum? Surely, Tinkerbell doesn't weigh so much.

[mcgregor_ewan]

Oh poh tink, she has not embraced the meatball, man.

And of the Elvii. Adventure first. Death later.

[christina_ricci]

She lacks a soul. She has no need of meatball embracing.

Adventure? Please, speak more of this.

[misswainwright]

The best thing by far is the slogan, "It's Sacrilicious!" although I find myself really wanting this shirt. Or possibly this one, just because pirates are fun.

[christina_ricci]

Martha, darling Martha. The latter has sent me into a most unfortunate whirlwind of hysterics. I will fish out my tambourine and we, Two Ladies of Pastafarious Virtue, preach the gospel on riotous street corners.

[misswainwright]

Hallelujah.

[christina_ricci]

Ramen.

[jason_kay]

Denial Ms. Ricci, is a terrible thing. My toe did no such thing but if you insist on being defeated by an injured man, then I'll just have to comply. Boxster holds absolutely nothing against the Enzo, I'm tempted to refuse to keep myself away from unnecessary tantrums, but the apology is just too tempting for me to let slip. Frankfurt.

[christina_ricci]

Denial is naught but a river in Egypt, Dearest Mr. Kay. I fear nothing and least of all your Enzo. I shall be forced to have my compadres at West Coast Customs lifted over here immediately to provide me with a New and Improved engine. You Go Down Now. Until then, please be amused. "But I am Le Tired"

[jason_kay]

Foot stomping suits you well, but your voice is a little annoying when raised to that disgruntled cry for recognition. Self-assurance will only get you so far and as fond as I am of that smug grin of yours, I'm going to have to prove you wrong. A consolation basket will be waiting for you on the bus, along with blobs on ink reminding you of previous warnings. wtf mate.

[christina_ricci]

My voice is music when raised to a cry of any kind at all. You've never before complained. Bwaha. Prove what you will, Jason Kay. I shant give up so easily, I shant cower to your inferiority. I will toss the consolation basket at your injured hand and chortle imperiously as you writhe with obvious pain. fucking kangaroos.

[skeeterulrich]

I converted when I heard about the Pastafarian's heaven. And I am counting down the days until Prego is born. I BEG YOU, WASH AWAY MY SINS WITH YOUR TOMATO BLOOD, OH SON OF THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER.

[christina_ricci]

Sigh Skeet Ulrich. I will certainly see you at service. Will you be dressing in the ceremonial Pirate garb?

[skeeterulrich]

Most Fridays, yes. However, sometimes the dry cleaners lose things and I find myself having to settle for an eye patch and a WWFSMD? shirt. Have you been touched by his noodly appendage yet, Christina Ricci?

[christina_ricci]

At this time, I'd like to refer you to my personal Dry Cleaner Gupta Amir. Send all pirate garb to my New York apartment and she will certainly care for it appropriately. If the negligent dry cleaners have displeased you, say the word and I will have them executed with extreme prejudice.

Oh, Skeet. I have been impaled. I am filled with Pasta Love.