tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23031833.post115223261192487280..comments2023-03-26T03:02:24.988-05:00Comments on Colicky Baby Records and Tapes: Chicks Dig Scars, Don't They?: GBV-in-Minneapolis-Gate: ConclusionStronger Than Dirt Pete Mosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032568997365156537noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23031833.post-1152246825270626652006-07-06T23:33:00.000-05:002006-07-06T23:33:00.000-05:00Well, gee, thanks FM. And thanks very much for add...Well, gee, thanks FM. And thanks very much for adding those details -- there were too few FM lines in the story. I kind of had you cast in my mind as the "reasonable unreasonable" character, but I didn't really come up with any ways to flesh that out. Of course, I was the "reasonable-in-thought, but unreliable-in-action unreasonable" character -- I mean well, but you should probably pinch hit for me in a clutch situation with the game on the line.<BR/><BR/>Des was the drunken puppet, KG was slandered unforgiveably as the dour shrew. Adam was kind of a prop (and really only in there at all because his getting thrown out too demanded it), and Kev was ... I dunno what. Something something. It's all no fair.<BR/><BR/>Yeah, I had fun writing it, although hit haint been good for my bad habits. Anyway, shit, I have too many stories. They'll have to rattle out at some point.Stronger Than Dirt Pete Mosshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02032568997365156537noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23031833.post-1152244198081677222006-07-06T22:49:00.000-05:002006-07-06T22:49:00.000-05:00"Tastes" I meant. Tastes! Goddamnit."Tastes" I meant. Tastes! Goddamnit.Feral Momhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08456760046606299779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23031833.post-1152244109356024992006-07-06T22:48:00.000-05:002006-07-06T22:48:00.000-05:00And you end with Elling. Perfeck! I would only, of...And you end with Elling. Perfeck! I would only, of course, add the parts starring me...my best line of the evening, in fact. As Kev's head gushed blood and Kev's GF started crying, I turned to comfort her with "Don't worry. It's worse than it looks." I'd meant, of course, to say something quite the opposite, about head wounds bleeding a lot, etc., but I only made her cry harder. So perhaps this is an asshole issue after all, and not a gender one. <BR/><BR/>Except that, while you were tossing and turning next to Des, I was out scouring the Twin Cities with Kev's GF for some Neosporin. And the hangover? Was killer. But no worse than I deserved.<BR/><BR/>Brilliant stuff, STDPM. What other dumb drunk stuff have we done? Could you write more posts about that? <BR/><BR/>Seriously, even if I'm not in them this time, I'd love more stories. You are the tale teller. I'm REALLY glad I didn't attempt this one, because it truly was yours to tell. Though other versions would be interesting. I, for one, would like to hear the other five versions. Does Des remember ANYTHING? What about Local Guy Adam--what's HIS take on the evening? How much dark fate can Kev inject into his own scarring? And what about me? Didn't I do something else stupid at some point? <BR/><BR/>Ahem. I think what I'm really trying to say, is, bravo, and, "this fucking shit takes great!"Feral Momhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08456760046606299779noreply@blogger.com