Ok, you, out with it.

Out with what? Unless someone slipped me the chocolate chunk cookies, then I guess I know the answer to that.

If incensed/angry with someone, I'll just bake some cookies (which is normal for me to bake all the time anyway), but I'll bake in secret, so no one happens to see what's going into the cookies. Then when seeing the evil-doer, I slap on a smile, and say "Here, have a batch of 'let's make-up' cookies," *winkwink.*

However, if I like you and want to make you a happy person, I'll bake you love cookies. Love cookies are laced with the secret ingredient of heroin to put that 'I've just had fifty orgasms' look of contentness on your face.

Now the question is, after all this sweet talk, who's in the mood for some homemade doughnuts? :rolleyes: ..........

:ph34r:

Are you real? You're like a combination of Rachel and my girlfriend. I didn't think that was possible.

Hopefully more like the girlfriend and less like Rachel; Rachel has huge shoes.

I'm probably less like the girlfriend really; because judging on how you act and also how people pick mates who are similar to them, I would assume she has the same cunningness to make sure the same thing doesn't happen twice, as you yourself have shown to do on the forums. My problem is that after the first batch of cookies, I only think of a different recipe of cookie I could use. Really, I should be thinking of how I can get their G-string and my bottle of itching powder in the same proximity.

I like getting people to the point where they're afraid to see me looking in their direction and being happy. :D

I don't have big shoes, you just have small feet.

And for once, I've got bigger boobs, too. :lol:

But I am taller.

Which is, what, supposed to make your boobs freakishly short? :huh:

See? I get the best of both worlds: multiple murder attempts, big boobs, normal-sized feet, cackling...

And if you let me talk to her alone for a while, you'll also have a very talented cook with plenty of secret ingredients. :ph34r:

I don't think Ex-Lax counts....

Coming from someone who I've watched tongue-bathe her cat, I think you're not allowed to count :lol:

The elderly only deserve treats in puree form as they wait in line at the nursing home.

Then you obviously have not seen the cake they serve. That isn't milk they sog the cake with.

I can only imagine....

Rahul said:
cackling...

You consider cackling a good quality in a woman?


Thats kind of creepy.

The more insane, the more I approve. Viajera and Rachel are most certainly insane. Therefore, I approve.

Rahul said:
The more insane, the more I approve. Viajera and Rachel are most certainly insane. Therefore, I approve.

*gasp* Your so smooth.

About as smooth as sandpaper....

Considering that sand is basically erosion of rock, which is by definition the natural process of smoothing due to wear over time, I guess you just defined me as the penultimate of smooth. :wub:

ZING! That was a zinger.

Erosion due to wear over time. Hmmm... can we apply that to my sanity?

As a warning Rahul... with those compliments on my loss of sanity (which makes me a happy social reprobate), you're well on your way to a love cookie.

Not erosion. You're the sediment of a great river of thought, whose remains are mere sludge and superfluousness. A puddle in the lake of comprehension. The occasional downpour of rain, and snow that melts before it hits the ground -- a soft analogy of your blurred mind and limp spirit.

However, I'll take the cookie. Just make sure it's made of artificial ingredients, like rock and aluminium.

Did I say love cookie? I meant acid.

I don't do drugs. But your offering them explains the insanity.

That's okay, because I was talking about toxic waste :)

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, beautiful day in the neighborhood...

It's a shame the trolley plowed into that minivan on the way to The Land of Make-Believe...those poor children will never play another game of soccer again.

:o

:unsure: *sniff* I guess we'll never get to know what they did when they were home alone...

Probably cry, because their Soccer Mom of a mother beat them into submssion for having free time.

I think they have to live through their kids because of such an innate dissatisfaction with their life. I think it would be more effective to go bungey-jumping (sp?) and a lot less time consuming. This way the women could get the wind-blown hair effect ;)