I Am Completely Serious

"- play Risk, and he was all like, "Ohhh, I have to give a talk to Mensa," and it was like, "You suck, now we don't have enough people.""

-

I am going to fall over and die and I will fall very, very hard. On a walrus.

"Oh, he might not be a thief. He might just have stolen something."

"You know, once or twice, on the side. That doesn't make him a thief."

"It's like how I'm not a congressman, I just sometimes make laws, and molest -"

"You just sometimes sexually explicit text messages to minors?"

"Sure, sometimes! Doesn't mean I'm a congressman..."

Oh, honey, we've got corn! You didn't tell me! We've got corn...

-Dad, intensely tragically

"...Meanwhile, Yuki goes to the ASB council room only to find it trashed again! But as the secrets of who trashed the room come out of the closet, Yuki accidentally gets locked in one."

-ill-advised ad copy

On a library chalkboard:

"Senior research is DONE, bitches!"

My (imaginary, because I'm very professional) contribution:

"No, wait! It was all a dream! You still have seven more pages to write, and you completely forgot about that source that your advisor was "really looking forward to seeing your reaction to!" A bug just flew into your last Red Bull! ALL THE PRINTERS IN THIS BUILDING ARE OUT OF INK OR BLINKING MYSTERIOUSLY"

They're apparently all off getting drunk to celebrate turning everything in. Which might explain why I'm hearing sirens tonight, for the first time in a while.

Today's (yesterday's) methods by which I have amused/discomfited the masses while sleep-deprived and panicking for various good reasons:

Prof. Portentous: The question is, do I have the tests graded. The answer is, yes.

Me, "These-aren't-the-droids-you're-looking-for" voice: I don't think you *really* have the tests graded.

Prof. Portentous: Oh, you don't, do you. Do you think I should wait to give them out?

Me, continuing: In fact, I think the tests were lost in a... freak anteater accident...

Prof. Portentous: Yeah, pass those around, please.

-

Me, checking out a book with scary red eyes on the cover to Real-Tall-san: I'm laughing at your book... there's too many books with scary eyes on the cover sitting back there, especially glowy red eyes...

Real-Tall-san, nervously: Heh heh...

Me: It's what you put on books about terrorists or cryptography, there's like laws about it -

Real-Tall-san, faintly offended: Okay, so next time I'll -

Me: You should be more careful!

-

Me, answering the phone: Library Circulation, may I help you?

Person on line: [stuff my co-worker couldn't hear]

Me: ...Jesus?

Co-worker: *looks up at me very slowly*

The girl on the line had been asking about a video titled "Jesus," of which we had three. Since she'd called on the phone rather than checking the online catalog, naturally she could not identify which of them she wanted, and naturally each was in a slightly different state of availability.

"WOOSTER. THIS IS *VERY IMPORTANT*. DO YOU *FEAR* ME?"

"Sir?"

"NO, *REALLY*. BE HONEST."

"Ah - a *little*, I suppose."

"...OKAY, I CAN WORK WITH THAT."

(So much.)

Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Comm Presentation! Here, can I help you with your coat - *my god* she's got a gun -

-

To be hallowed - accordingly -

- *bitch.*

"I love the coloration, I think it embodies a lot of the themes of the series. It has a lot of connotations."

- another bad presentation

"Is it possible? No, it is not possible. But is it possible? Yes, it is possible... if you are the living dead."

- Mr. Smuckles. For internet purposes I think I'm going to call him Mr. Smuckles just for no reason. Thank you for the helpful Mr-Smuckles-quotes email, um, your name is Dr. Andretti now.

(I don't even remember what the subject at hand was when he started on the zombies like that.)

"I cannot draw fabric. Therefore I will disembowel myself with this BiC mechanical pencil."

- me, apparently - it's my handwriting, and it looks like my bad art. I probably didn't go through with it.

"No one knows for sure how the unicorn was born, but some say the k'i-lin sprang from the center of the earth. It always reaches its destination and, unlike ourselves, never falls into a pit."

- a book about unicorns that lives on the fifth floor of the library right near the chair I like to sit in. I, myself, fall into a pit just *all the time*. I wish I was a unicorn; then it wouldn't be such a problem.

Her boyfriend had schizophrenia and had some sort of evil, twisted personality that would come out often -- she could tell when this happened because he changed his font color.

-someone on GAFF

-

"And so," said the Magician, "Begins the requiem for Prime Minister Haz. Such an *inspiring* sound."

She paused, and added gently, "You're supposed to say, "I don't hear nothin'.""

The Goon said, "Don't start with me today." She looked carefully in both mirrors and over her shoulder as she switched lanes - hoping to provide a salutary example for her colleague, maybe, Jessica thought. The cars moving past seemed unusually loud and fast, and Jessica's head hurt.

The Magician, stretching out in the back seat, looked smug and comfortable - she had probably had a bad day once or twice in her life, but preferred not to let it get around. "Oh, come now, humor me. Do you not know what a requiem is, is that it? Do you think it has to do with goths?"

"I said don't."