Well, it had to be done, didn't it? And since this is both the first and last post, I have won. Thank you all.
I dun see nuttin'.
@1993 Ah! I understand now. You mean that swallowing the soup resulted in a temporary sinistral visual impairment. Perfectly understandable in the circumstances.I hope you're fully recovered now.
Dummies? Naturally he's talking about you lot. I am the winner, high in intelligence, and loaded with culinary skills. I think it's the look on his face - right?
@1995 I have permanent sinistral impairment in both eyes for over ten years. Damage to the optic nerve during brain surgery.
Madam, he may be mistakenly talking about the avatars, but make no mistake about culinary skills needed to make less than potable soup.
thank you micromouth; I've made a full recovery
@xymonau/Dez: tasting your soup was an unforgettable experience {**}
That's strange. The normal side effect from tasting her soup is amnesia. Her victims haven't been able to identify her for years!
oh I'm used to that confusion
you see I almost always react the opposite of others :D
just out of curiosity: if the victims of Dez' soup suffer from amnesia the wouldn't have been able to find their way back to rgbstock.com now would they?
so how did you found out??
She brags about her soup escapades if she is unable to assist them finding their way back. She's known to have threatened them with a sharp pointy wooden stick.
Lies, all wicked lies. Don't believe everything you read in this forum. And I'm so glad you enjoyed the soup. Not many survive the sheer bliss.
I am currently sitting at the computer eating crackers and hommus & caramelised onion dip (no dairy products in it). Not my first choice, but it's nice enough, so all this talk of soup isn't making me hungry.
Gron - I like a person who challenges untruths. They are thin on the ground around here.
A few years ago I read a sci-fi story in which a cargo of 25th century products accidentally time-jumped back into the 20th century. A recovery team was sent back in time to retrieve it before its contents got into 20th century hands not equipped to deal with them. The item that was worrying them most was argo-juice, a noxious acid substance that would slowly burn its way through anything, including the ground. For some wholly unaccountable reason, this memory rose unbidden to my mind today.
Well, they may not have made it in time as the argo-juice must have landed in the antipodes. At first they thought the Gods Must be Crazy but then realized it could be made into soup.
Perfectly reasonable explanation.
I agree, and interestingly it also explains the development of pointy sticks. One quick dip...
I love soup
just this very day I've made myself a big big pan full of delicious dutch pea soup
no meat, no dairy products
perhaps I can persuade xymonau/Dez to taste my broth?
No problem, she's easy. But do expect some constructive criticism.
Her main goal is the prize so don't let her catch wind of it or she'll bring out the pointy stick.
Gron, I would be delighted. You have exemplary manners, and although you, too, are a loser, I might allow you to watch me spend the prize money.
Cris, on the other hand, is casting aspersions (or was that nasturtiums?) about my character. The last resort of a loser.
So glad macromouth now understands I'm years ahead of my time.
Not a last resort. I've got more tricks up my sleeves.
*sigh* Those are called "arms", Cris. "Arms".
Abra-Cadaver
Presto! I've got the prize again!!
Nope, that's Groningen. We was having a lovely chat and a bowl of soup, when you launched through that window. Take good care of Gron. He/she (well, I can't tell, can I?) is delicate and needs round the clock attention.
Meanwhile, whilst all these Dutch treats are going on, I've bagged the prize. Again. He yelled excitedly and practically wagged his tail (if he had a tail) to see me. He's so relieved at not being force-fed noxious substances, pseudo-matriarchal phraseology and prestidigitation any more. We're going on a spending spree to celebrate!
Ah, well, that won't be possible, I'm afraid. Ahem. See, I have this here big stick, and I am in the doorway. Cris is stuck in the only window, because, like the monkey with his hand stuck in the jar, he won't let go of the peanut (Gron, I'm sorry, but I had nothing to work with). Now, I am a patient woman, sometimes, but I am not feeling all that patient today. Go figure. If I were you, little man, I'd put that prize down carefully - no sudden movements to aggravate my reflexes, like - and I would take a seat, because your dinner IS SERVED!
I'm afraid your feelings of souperiority mislead you. And there's really no need to refer to Gron as a peanut. The prize and I have already exited through the cellar and the tunnel down past the shrubbery and the jecuzzi (it was so nice of the prize to buy that for me) and are safely away in my new Aston Martin (thanks prize!). You may wave your pointy stick as you wish! :-)
I did. At the tyres. You won't go far on those rims.
*woof*