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Archive for the ‘We’s ravin’!’ Category

50 Shades of Grey: The Internet is Hard, like Your Dad

In Back Door Book Club B!tches 4: Back in the Saddle, Because fuck you exploiters. Fuck you., Docta K, I Chat Therefore I Am, Katie, We's ravin'!, Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. on February 6, 2013 at 6:33 pm

Previously on BDBCB4:BS, we almost ate pancakes.  So, I got sick for awhile and forgot that I’d never posted this, what is probably the last of the Fifty Shades posts.  (This is to say nothing of RIEtc.’s long, long absence.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I suck.)  I say the last because it’s months later and we really don’t care anymore, and besides, we of BDBCB4:BS would like to spend our limited interaction time – now more limited than ever – on something that will not make us quite so, in a word, stabby.  So Book Club is not dead, honest!, but I think Fifty Shades is dead to us, thankfully.  So enjoy this blast from our collective literary past – which totally collapses into a ball of flaming 50 Shade post inside jokes – and take a sec to vote on the future.  No seriously, like, right now (don’t worry, you can pick more than one thing):

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50 Shades of Grey: I Am Noticing Your Pancakes with Irony

In Back Door Book Club B!tches 4: Back in the Saddle, Docta K, Food - it's what's for dinner, I Chat Therefore I Am, Katie, Polls Hypos and Other Imaginings, Rooks, We's ravin'!, Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. on July 26, 2012 at 3:20 pm

Previously in BDBCB4:BS, we got over-enthused about sharks, if such a thing is possible.  This week in Fifty Shades of Grey, we tackle the morning after, dick cozies, and text speak; discuss the relative value of homemade v. storebought; contemplate the myriad places soap should, in all likelihood, never go; and learn new things about French folklore and gentleman explorers.  Also, we solicit YOU, dear readers!  Keep an eye out for the poll!

Katie: OH HI!

Docta K: OH HAI! Look at how I am home SO FAST?!

Katie: YOU ARE EARLY.  I AM IMPRESSED.

Docta K: I busted ass out of work. I was like, BOOK CLUB BITCHEZ. I GOTS TO GO.

Rooks:  [heart].  Also, I love you both, but I swear I will only leave these first few lines like this to demonstrate to our readers precisely how much CAPSLOCK I generally have to deal with. Read the rest of this entry »

50 Shades of Grey: We Have to Stop Meeting Like This

In Back Door Book Club B!tches 4: Back in the Saddle, Because fuck you exploiters. Fuck you., I read this entire post and all I got was this lousy T-shirt, Katie, Ridiculously Long Pocket Guides, Rooks, This verges on the ridiculous, We's ravin'! on June 6, 2012 at 4:26 pm

Previously on Res Ipsa Etc., we started a terrible book.  This week, we continue to blaze an intrepid path through the literary desert, a wilderness of suck, if you will, on everyone’s behalf.  Suffering:  All the Cool Kids Are Doing It.  (No really, they are!  Docta K has acquired a copy of 50 Shades of Grey and may be joining us in some future posts!  Woot!)  Anyway, BDBCB4:BS continues on with chapters 2-4 of what is arguably the worst book either of us have ever read.  We snark because we care.

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You don’t know this yet, but GOBBLE GOBBLE owns you, and you LIKE it!

In Bezuidenthustra, Didn't you know this is a music blog?, GOBBLE GOBBLE, So . . . about this blog . . ., We's ravin'! on November 29, 2010 at 6:51 pm

Cecil Frena directs traffic. (Photo credits unclear)

God forbid this place should ever turn into a music blog.

Not to say we don’t all love music. We do. Some of us even make wicked awesome mixtapes. USB-styles. But if there’s one thing I think the intersphere has enough of (other than porn sites, of course, although I’m not so sure we can ever have enough of those), it’s music blogs. Nobody likes to prattle on about obscure shit quite like indie music nerds, and there are few places more ideally suited to prattle than blogs. Ahem.

So I’m kind of breaking my own rule by gushing about a band on Res Ipsa, but this is an emergency. You, my dear readers, need to hear about this now. NOW.

Now, before it’s too late, before one of their tunes accompanies an Apple commercial to which an annoying, mange-bearded local hipster, sallow hands shoved disdainfully in the back-pockets of ill-fitting skinny jeans,  sneers, “Oh yeah, I remember those guys, I bought their first seven inch after reading about them on iknowmoreaboutobscuremusicthanyoudo.com — they were better before they got signed.” Read the rest of this entry »