You bought TWO kites. Only one was good for flying. I told my parents about that Charlie Brown diamond kite. I figured these people were old enough to have flown kites like this one, before the triangular, "gull-wing" style kites were popularized. They just gave an exasperated sigh and said, commiseratorily and matter-of-factly, "Yeah, those things are impossible."
Next time you visit we're going to the IKEA, and then to Toys backwards-'R' Us. That will use up the whole visit and I won't need to plan anything else.
i <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/halnewcome/14433.html">reposted</a> this responsehalnewcomeMarch 8 2005, 21:53:25 UTC
This happens all the time when I am reading livejournals, but let me try to explain this phenomenon, which is really just a feeling, so to speak:
You post something that you are worried other people will find out about. I then imagine us sitting face-to-face, hunched over conspiratorily. The "secret" is whispered, loudly, to me. Slowly, I turn; first my eyes, then pivot my head. You notice my glance, and mirror my slow turn. I eventually stand up. Slackjawed, you just turn the rest of the way around in your chair to face the same direction I am, and suddenly we become aware of a stark-white spotlight that has us pinned to a stage in an incomprehensibly huge auditorium that seats hundreds of millions of shadowy figures. They are the entire population of the world with internet access.
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You bought TWO kites. Only one was good for flying. I told my parents about that Charlie Brown diamond kite. I figured these people were old enough to have flown kites like this one, before the triangular, "gull-wing" style kites were popularized. They just gave an exasperated sigh and said, commiseratorily and matter-of-factly, "Yeah, those things are impossible."
Next time you visit we're going to the IKEA, and then to Toys backwards-'R' Us. That will use up the whole visit and I won't need to plan anything else.
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hmmm or maybe you just know what i like ;-)
furniture and toys rooool
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You post something that you are worried other people will find out about. I then imagine us sitting face-to-face, hunched over conspiratorily. The "secret" is whispered, loudly, to me. Slowly, I turn; first my eyes, then pivot my head. You notice my glance, and mirror my slow turn. I eventually stand up. Slackjawed, you just turn the rest of the way around in your chair to face the same direction I am, and suddenly we become aware of a stark-white spotlight that has us pinned to a stage in an incomprehensibly huge auditorium that seats hundreds of millions of shadowy figures. They are the entire population of the world with internet access.
Reply
oh and i really liked the subject to this post... very creative haha
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