Did she do well? Do I have multiple certificates of education from the best of universitas? Do I not call her on mommatus day and birthitus day and christimus? How well did she do, to where I mulitiplied her DNA by 3 giving her the grandest of kids? Shall we ask her?
Shall we? Can you call her and ask? Will you report back and let us know what your mom says?
Have you invited her to the BBS, like @japhroaig did?
Or have you learned from his object-lesson?
Wouldn’t that be nice? I wonder how would you feel being the tech expert in the family where your grandpa types his message in the subject line?
Like I had fallen in with a band of experimenters who turn technology to their own needs?
How on earth did I wind up here?
Where art thou?
Isn’t there something truly, existentially terrifying about the way the performer of the jingle sings the line “land of living hats,” like he’s experiencing some visceral, bottomless nightmare of a flashback that he knows will haunt him until his dying breath?
Wasn’t I just trying to follow up in the “Associate” thread? What rabbit hole did I fall down?
Dance?
Why not?
Will you, won’t you, Will you, won’t you, Will you, won’t you, join the dance?
Are you asking?
May we join in the chant instead?
Is available?
Are you married?
Why are mid-century modern houses so expensive?
Why don’t we have piles of money lying around in our bank account to buy one?
Is it the house or the location that makes it so expensive?
Don’t I wish I could go back to 1979 and convince my mom to buy the Eichler home she’d looked at, instead of the boring-ass cookie-cutter tract home she ended up purchasing back then?