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unavoidedcrisis
Ftw is adoration? Root word, adore... But still. There's gotta be more.
This had better be about chickens.
Curtis is a pretty funny [and creepy] guy. We had an interesting 'computer' chat last night before late rehearsal started.
Small Piece of Conversation
Curtis: [typing] Oh god, I think he's onto us!
Colleen: [typing] Oh noes, act casual.
Colleen + Curtis: *look overtly nonchalant, whistles, brush off shoulders, look pointedly away*
Curtis: [typing] That was close. He's totally clueless.
Colleen: [typing] Lolz, obviously.
Curtis: [typing] Uh oh, he's looking at us again. Quick, a distraction.
Colleen: [typing] Umm... umm... umm.... Ah!
Colleen: [typing, shows Craig] Woo, lesbians!
Curtis: [typing] OMFG, LOLZ!
Craig: [out loud] Bwa-what?!
Please note that when I say 'typing', I do not mean on AIM or MSN. I mean typing in Microsoft Word, changing the font size to forty and turning the screen so the other can read it. And because we kept giggling and typing like mad hatters, Craig kept shooting us little 'ftw?' glances. We tried to throw him off, but it made him more curious. I don't blame him. We're fucked up. GO NORTH BAY CHICKENS.
This had better be about chickens.
Curtis is a pretty funny [and creepy] guy. We had an interesting 'computer' chat last night before late rehearsal started.
Small Piece of Conversation
Curtis: [typing] Oh god, I think he's onto us!
Colleen: [typing] Oh noes, act casual.
Colleen + Curtis: *look overtly nonchalant, whistles, brush off shoulders, look pointedly away*
Curtis: [typing] That was close. He's totally clueless.
Colleen: [typing] Lolz, obviously.
Curtis: [typing] Uh oh, he's looking at us again. Quick, a distraction.
Colleen: [typing] Umm... umm... umm.... Ah!
Colleen: [typing, shows Craig] Woo, lesbians!
Curtis: [typing] OMFG, LOLZ!
Craig: [out loud] Bwa-what?!
Please note that when I say 'typing', I do not mean on AIM or MSN. I mean typing in Microsoft Word, changing the font size to forty and turning the screen so the other can read it. And because we kept giggling and typing like mad hatters, Craig kept shooting us little 'ftw?' glances. We tried to throw him off, but it made him more curious. I don't blame him. We're fucked up. GO NORTH BAY CHICKENS.