The scene, a peaceful Italian country side. A family has taken a vacation with their young children and, sprawling a tarp over the grassy hills, take in the fresh air. Their son strafes back and forth, a toy airplane "Just like father's!" in his hand, mimicking the sites and sounds of the airfield they just visited. His father laughs and ruffles ( Read more... )

I saw the coffin.  After the service I nailed down the lid.

Take no prisoners, take no chances.

They thought they'd be rid of me, burying me under the sand near a train station off Luxor ( Read more... )

...Pesci has fallen in love

I am not totally sure what to make of this development.

He could at least have better taste in women.

Melone, if you whistle Thomas the Tank Engine again, I swear to God I will kill you with my bare hands.  And when did I say you could keep your blood samples in my top drawer?  This one doesn't even look like blood.  It's all clear and-

...

Oh God...

(In OOC news, I hate throat colds accompanied by morning headaches.  Especially when they last the ( Read more... )

Risotto, listen to these people.  They've written songs just for you.

(And AIM: Hotel Threepwood.  As in "I'm Guybrush Threepwood, a mighty pirate.")

Not as easy as it looks on television.

So, I appear to have found LiveJournal.  LiveJournal.  The inherent irony is not lost on me.

All the rest of us here?