I’m not sure we are off probation. I still think we are in the grace period. However this may mean we are off “super secret probation”. Or we are in it. I’m not sure.
Okay, Tracy, let’s get cooking on some glittering (but not blinding) repartee about La Jetée. A nod and a wink to those in the know, but friendly and inclusive. A Twelve Monkeys reference, you think? And then throw in just a little self-deprecating (but not self-denigrating) twist? You know, some down-home/uptown high-brow/low-brow thing.
There, there, Michael. Nobody said we were fucking loud. Nobody’s out to get us. We’re not that loud. Yet.
The pressure is all in your head. People like us Just the Way We Are. Think of it this way: It’s the tension between our whip-smart personas and our vulnerable inner selves that creates that very special clusterflock magic.
And could well lead to our slipping off The Deck like a feller with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.
Oh, let’s face it, the Deck is stacked against us. It’s all been a sham and a mockery. Damn you, hope. Damn you, promise. We’ll just sit here in our hole and self-deprecate until the cows come home.
There, there, Cindy — and don’t forget to breathe, punkin. You’re thinking of the Deck — the one that is stacked against us. We’re talking about The Deck. It’s different. It’s okay. So don’t you go deprecating on yourself. You’re a big girl — and we like you Just the Way You Are.
good golly y’all got a fucking running cocktail party in a self deprecating past… am i missing out or what? think i’ll stage a revolution with them squirrels
I’m not sure we are off probation. I still think we are in the grace period. However this may mean we are off “super secret probation”. Or we are in it. I’m not sure.
Crap. We’re supposed to be witty? I knew there was a catch.
Not only witty but loud. And whip-smart.
Okay, Tracy, let’s get cooking on some glittering (but not blinding) repartee about La Jetée. A nod and a wink to those in the know, but friendly and inclusive. A Twelve Monkeys reference, you think? And then throw in just a little self-deprecating (but not self-denigrating) twist? You know, some down-home/uptown high-brow/low-brow thing.
And say it loud. Without slurring our words.
I wouldn’t know anything about twists.
Twists as in skirts (or dames), Cindy? Or the hair kind? Or some other thing . . . ?
It was my (obviously failed) attempt at a self-deprecating twist. Get it? Huh? Huh?
Oh, Cindy. Oh, girl. You are whip-smart. And witty.
I am merely loud.
(Say, was that self-deprecating? No, I think that qualifies as self-denigrating.)
Let’s ask Renner. He’ll know.
Hmmm. Yeah. Let’s ask Renner.
We’re not that fucking loud.
Witty is as witty does.
If our whip-smartness slips, we become vulnerable. We’ll be off The Deck faster than you can say “off the deck”.
There, there, Michael. Nobody said we were fucking loud. Nobody’s out to get us. We’re not that loud. Yet.
The pressure is all in your head. People like us Just the Way We Are. Think of it this way: It’s the tension between our whip-smart personas and our vulnerable inner selves that creates that very special clusterflock magic.
And could well lead to our slipping off The Deck like a feller with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.
Oh, let’s face it, the Deck is stacked against us. It’s all been a sham and a mockery. Damn you, hope. Damn you, promise. We’ll just sit here in our hole and self-deprecate until the cows come home.
Okay, yes, I’m drunk. Again.
There, there, Cindy — and don’t forget to breathe, punkin. You’re thinking of the Deck — the one that is stacked against us. We’re talking about The Deck. It’s different. It’s okay. So don’t you go deprecating on yourself. You’re a big girl — and we like you Just the Way You Are.
Aw, shucks. I guess I didn’t need to get drunk after all.
I wish I could quit you, clusterflock!
And don’t you worry about the cows. They’re already home. Sometimes the farmer just lets them stay out a little late.
Oh I read that last comment as, “So don’t you go defecating on yourself…”
I figured it was in reference to another Cindy story I missed.
Amy, I once made a poop in the shape of the Loch Ness Monster.
That was a really good day.
Oh, yes, Amy. It was. I was just trying to be discreet and all and use ‘deprecate’ as a kind of code for, well, you know . . . what you said.
Hey, is this how whip-smart people act at witty cocktail parties? Fuck me running! This is fucking all right!
We so whip-smart we got whip-lash!
Oh yeah, I already heard about your Nessie Monster Poop, Cindy.
Sheila, I’ve never heard anyone else use “Fuck me running” but me. I somehow feel closer to you now.
Well, fuck me running, Amy!
Once again some more. Do all y’all have any idea how much I love y’all?
good golly y’all got a fucking running cocktail party in a self deprecating past… am i missing out or what? think i’ll stage a revolution with them squirrels