Maybe it’s sleep-deprivation, but things seem especially bizarre today. And my responses to them are right out of “I should probably just shut up” land.
- Beth asked me for my three favorite herbs/spices, and my head nearly exploded from the difficulty. “Wow, that’s a great question. Tough one, though. I mean, what does one gauge his response on: physical prowess, keen detection skills? The ability to banter well with super villains?” Seriously, I agonized for half an hour about passing over dill and smoked paprika.
- We’re getting a gift for a young gentleman who’s into tae kwon do. Just for fun, I searched Amazon, and the third result was the category NINJA WEAPONS. “I know he’s into tae kwon do, but can I get him the Cold Steel Spike Scimitar? Or Ninja Extinction Arm Knives?” Ninja Extinction, y’all.
- For dessert today, the chefs made us Cherry Nut Crisp. I got all excited (for I dearly love fruit crisps), dished myself up a heaping bowl, and discovered the cherries they’d used … were Maraschinos. This one, in fact, rendered me speechless.
I await the next weird thing with great eagerness.
An Etsy shop has been set up here, with all proceeds to the Australian Red Cross.
Plus, free international shipping! Go buy stuff & help people.
So I’m following Pintsize on Twitter, and three times this morning I clicked on a link he posted.
Yeah, don’t need to do that ever again.
(I’m also following Marten, Faye, Dora, Hanners, Sven & Penelope. Heh.)
Thing the first : Which of you guys recently said that Lamb was your favorite Christopher Moore book?
Thing the second : Is anyone aside from KT, Josh, Jared & Jill coming for Thanksgiving? The actual meal, I mean. Turning up after for pie and grazing doesn’t count.
Thing the third : There is no thing the third.
Thing the fourth : KT, txt me. I don’t have your number in the new phone, for some strange reason. Also, I’ve emailed you about 94 squijillion times. I’m guessing your email has a hate for me.
Him: Hi, this is Nicodemus Something* from Yes on 102, in support of marriage, the language on the proposition is very simple, it just defines marriage as the union between one man and one woman. Can we count on your support of marriage?
Me: NO. You people are evil.
Him: OK! Well, this call was paid for by the Yes on…
Me: *click*fume*growl*
* Can’t remember what his last name was, but I’m totally not making up the Nicodemus bit.
From yesterday’s Alt Text (emphasis mine):
I’m jazzed to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, but my anticipation is dimmed somewhat by the inevitable ensuing upturn in fedora sales. When I go to San Diego Comic-Con this July, I fully expect to see fedoras popping up like mushrooms on the damp lawn of fandom.
To my coworkers: If your feet are grey with filth because you’re allergic to soap or whatever, I respectfully request that you DO NOT WEAR FLIP-FLOPS TO WORK.
Love,
Suriel
I am powerless in the face of battered* onion rings. And two other things I mentioned to Loki recently but have since forgotten. Possibly puppies. But really? Onion rings.
And if there’s tartar sauce in which to dip them? OM NOM NOM.
(That tartar sauce thing? Fred‘s idea. A tip of the hat to our late, beloved, tartar-sauce-thinking-up friend.)
Anyway. There were onion rings on today’s lunch menu at work, and I think I deserve some sort of medal for managing to restrict myself to six of the crispy, yummy rings. A medal, I tell you. And possibly a puppy.
*”Battered” being the key word here. I can’t be having with the breaded kind.
They’ve just posted the schedules for this year’s Wave-Gotik-Treffen.
We’re not going, of course, but if we were, I can only see one conflict: Friday night, Das Ich & Solar Fake are playing at the same time. Really glad I don’t have to decide between them!
