First off, I'm worried on that 'waffle' thing. The day this place gets above the childish and nasty, the day this place no longer has room for a little retarded meanspiritedness in its retarded little heart... well, cancel my subscription, sir.

Second, the update on that page puts the lie to the post. Retard.

Shit... that picture it not as deceiving as the update makes it out to be... looks at those boats!!!... I'd hate to see the size of his her .......

Need to tie a cross-tie over your ass so you don't fall in!

Careful...

If she's 5'2", big feets is a problem. I need my size 12 shoes to hold up all 5'10" of my long legged curvy body, lest I tip over.

Just sucks when you have to shop for shoes where the other "women" have suspicious looking adam's apples peaking up above their collars. Brrrr.

MoDown does nothing for me. Nothing.
The only people sporting the "1952 starlet" look are middle-aged cross dressers and Maureen Dowd.

YIKES .

Me scared now .

Superficial like a fox.

You knew all along that today is RuPaul's birthday didn't you?

Or perhaps it's just the pre-Holiday spirit.

Jeez! Maureen could be Lipstick, the resident Sasquatch of AOSHQ.

Hmm. And I've pissed off Lipstick a few times.

*Michael thinks it over*

Lipstick, honey, it was all just in fun, right?

Monica! Yes--welcome to my club. Michael will soon be roasting you as well.

And yes, we tall chicks have legs that go on forever (..er..okay..kinda like our feet)

Okay. So she's a Yeti. A man-hating red-headed urban Bigfoot with a predictable and somewhat tedious prose line. It'd be sad if it weren't so boring.

At least I never feel ripped off paying 55 bucks American on a pedicure.

Michael, you bastard, I knew you couldn't resist this!

Yes, sweetheart, it's all in fun. Just like my new european pointy-toed pumps. Now just turn around a bit...yes, that's right, oops, you dropped something...

A man-hating red-headed urban Bigfoot with a predictable and somewhat tedious prose line.

Monty:

Are you talking about Lipstick, Maureen, or Monica?

Michael:

I speak of course of the loathsome creature Maureenus Dowdus. Lipstick and Monica are luminous daughters of the silver moon. They are like unto the she-beast as orchids are to a bramble.

But for the truth of the beauty of Lipstick and Monica, let us go to The Song of Songs:

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks. Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

Is it just me or does that sound like one hell of a lot of hickies?

Just like my new european pointy-toed pumps.

Here's a fashion tip: shave the hair off those floppers and the European pumps will look better.

This will help redirect attention upwards to the calves, which is not a bad thing for you. You don't want your date to be dwelling on the man-stomping potential of the massive appendages that you have tried to encase in Italian leather.

What we are witnessing here, folks, is the playful banter between men pretending to be women and men pretending to be heterosexual.

Do y'all hate your daddys that much?

Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.

A surefire way to spot a perv is that the Song of Solomon is the only book of the Bible they can quote from memory.

Just an observation. It's not that I'm bitter because a pretentious little faggot like Monty won the poetry contest or anything like that.

Michael, how about this little nugget from Ecclesiastes:

Be not r*a*s*h with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty to utter any thing before God: for God is in heaven, and thou upon earth: therefore let thy words be few.

Take heed or burn in hell, heretic.

Monty:

You are the one in trouble:

(Eph 5:6 NIV) Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient.

What Bible search engine are you using? I've got QuickVerse Deluxe.

Good Lord Monty, that's got to be the best biblical anti-compliment ever!

And: ...thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead

You are surely a huge hit with the ladies!

Michael:

The U. of Mich. has a pretty good online KJV version. I've always preferred the KJV to the NIV, even though most protestants consider the NIV to be a better translation. Still, the NIV lacks a lot of the rhythm and poetry of the KJV. (I must say that I prefer the NIV's version of some New Testament books, though. Paul's letters are correspondence, not poetry; the verse translation always seemed to be rather labored.)

Uh, Bart, I AM female. Even if I CAN wear my boyfriend's shoes (damn you Michael!).

Lipstick:

Good Lord Monty, that's got to be the best biblical anti-compliment ever!

There's a better one, albeit non-biblical, from Willy the Shake himself:

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.

Lipstick:

Monty's reference to Gilead was appropriate.

Gilead is a rugged country; the Hebrew name Gil'ad may be translated “rugged”, much like your feet. Gilead was famous especially for its flocks and herds, animals that were cultivated for their fur (again like your feet), and also for the balm of Gilead, an aromatic and medicinal preparation, probably derived from the resin of a small balsam tree.

Sure you are, dear.

The U. of Mich. has a pretty good online KJV version.

Hey! I'm a Michigan grad. What are the odds that we'll beat Ohio State on Saturday? I'm not making any bets.

Totally agree with you about the poetry of the KJV as opposed to the more accessible, accurate and readable NIV.

And, if you're a KJV fan, your proficiency at Victorian flames makes a lot of sense.

I speak of course of the loathsome creature Maureenus Dowdus. Lipstick and Monica are luminous daughters of the silver moon. They are like unto the she-beast as orchids are to a bramble.

Man, do you need laid or what?... :)

Michael, a man of your advanced years will surely remember all sorts of biblical references, since you were alive when they were written.

cheshirecat:

Man, do you need laid or what?... :)

You know, in spite of my suave, anything-goes, man-about-town mein, I'm actually quite the prude. The remnants of my Calvinist upbringing prohibit me from indulging my more prurient instincts. I'll just have to go about it the old-fashioned way: meet a lady, court the lady, propose to the lady, marry the lady.

And if quoting poetry at the ladies is the path to the Holy of Holies, I oughta be fending off horny femmes with a barge-pole. I need hardly add: such is not the case. I blame the educational system for not cultivating a love of literature among the young ladies. Cyrano de Bergerac would get nowhere with this generation of women.

Monty, Just don't tell a lady you're interested in that her hair reminds you of goats. Or sheep or whatever.

Then you'll be fine.

Monty, Monty, Monty:

If you're going to be a man-about-town, as you suggest you are, who uses erudite words -- then do it right. "Mein" refers to a type of Chinese noodle. "Mien" means "bearing or manner, especially as it reveals an inner state of mind." (It's actually a French word, favored by American poofters.)

I just can't believe you beat me in the poetry contest. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

http://www.blueletterbible.org/

Pretty good, has several versions plus Greek/Hebrew, plus concordance.

Bart,

I can vouch for Monica. She's actually sleeping in the next room right now. Hold on a sec.

Yup, all girl.

I don't know, Mark. We still have to eliminate Monica as a suspect.

The only way you are going to get peace is to tear apart the military industrial complex. Capitalism has to go! All social services must be paid for and provided by the government, free for everyone. That includes schools, health care, food, clothing, housing and ALL liesure. We need to stop building and start eliminating suburbs, recliam the once pristine land, and start building free apartment complexes in the cities. We demand the end of private restaurants, and demand public cafeterias NOT run by corporations. We need to stop the spread of shopping malls, and start giving out standard and uniform clothing for free for everyone. Corporations and private industry are evil! They corrupt everything. SOCIALISM RULES!

Put away the nasal spray, Bart.

Well said, Che! Round up the whole lot of 'em and throw 'em in camps! !Viva la revolucion!!!

Capitalists are so stupid. They don't realize that we all have the vote, so if only we cooperated, we could all vote for a law which says that the government has to give all of us $100000 a year, so none of us will have to work! Yeah, and we'd do it, too, if it weren't for that fascist Halliburton controlling the media and making everyone hate arabs and stuff.

"do you need laid or what?... "

Are you from Pittsburgh, or did you just leave out the "to get"?

Michael:

"Mein" refers to a type of Chinese noodle. "Mien" means "bearing or manner, especially as it reveals an inner state of mind.

It means what I say it means, pal. I never make mistakes. I carefully craft a narrative to express my existential angst. I refuse to be bounded by your petty "spelling rules" or "style guides". I shout my barbaric YAWP over the rooftops of the world!

Now leave me alone so I can watch Hee Haw in peace.

It means what I say it means . . .

I love the way you 'surround' your vocabulary.

I shout my barbaric YAWP . . .

. . . or thermobaric YAWP, in the modern lexicon.

She walks in beauty, like the night,
'oer cloudless climes and starry skies,
propped up on 12" boats that might
kick your ass and leave a dent, know what
I'm sayin?
You gonna look mighty funny going
to the emergency room with Lipstick
hopping behind you on one foot.

MoDo must have a hell of a time finding just the right shoe. I imagine some Manahattan shoe emporium; a quiet, tasteful place called "Fulgencio's Footwear".

Clerk: "Welcome, Ms. Dowd! Welcome! It's been too long!"
MoDo: "Get me some size 12 EEE slingbacks with four-inch heel! Immedately!"
Clerk: "Yes, of course! Would madam like the shoe in black or red?"
MoDo: "Red, you stupid ape! Red! How many times do I have to remind you? I pray for the day when you stupid men are all extinct! By the way, would you like to go on a date?"
Clerk: "Alas, Madam, I am involved with a relationship with a muy macho performance-artist named Arturo. But were I straight, and blind, and enamored of Yeti-women with bad attitudes, I would take you up on your offer!"
MoDo: "Just fetch my shoes and be quick about it. Peasant."
Clerk: "Ah! Here they are. I'll have Osvaldo help Chad and Brett carry the box to your taxi."

(And yes, I stole this bit from a King of the Hill episode where Peggy goes to buy new shoes.)