Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s acquired during the week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as actually sitting down and creating real content.
Especially when the blasted videos won’t embed and I’m running about six hours low on sleep after a virus. But y’all ought to be used to that by now . . .
________________________________
Bring it
Someday in the far future, when my children tell their therapists that I was the Worst Mother Ever, I will speak only four words (and be thinking four more) in my defense:
“Animal Pancakes for Dinner.”
With chocolate chips, baby.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Better Late than Ø
My SIL has wanted to establish a new Sorority/Fraternity/Egality ever since she realized that fifty-one percent of Miami University (of Ohio, thank you) was Greek.
She had the name all picked out.
Σ = Sigma
Φ = Phi
Ø = Empty Set, or Nothing
Sigma Phi Nothing.
Say it quicker.
See?
We’re gonna do it—better late than never. Want to join?
There will be shirts. And I was promised a ball cap.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
The Right to Bare Arms . . .
Twelve people have landed here in the past three days by googling “Jeremy Renner’s arms.”
Which, I inadvertently discovered yesterday, have their own Facebook and Tumblr accounts.
Seriously? I mean, I know I mentioned them myself, but . . . seriously?
The man works hard for twenty years, building a career of solid performances, finally gets an Oscar nod for carrying The Hurt Locker—an amazing flick with no overt sex appeal whatsoever*—takes on more roles that showcase him as far more than a run-of-the-mill thug or a cardboard action hero in spandex, and all we can do is wolf whistle?
C’mon people, we can do better than that.
Besides, if we’re going to fall into shallow love with the man, let it be over his voice:
The one I really wanted to share was Mr. Renner singing ‘New York State of Mind‘ on the Jimmy Fallon Show, but it wouldn’t embed form Tumblr and YouTube blocked it, so click the link and thank me later.
But this next one is his own composition—we’ll forgive him for the oops near the beginning:
Because any man who can sing like this? I don’t care what he looks like, ’cause I’ve got my eyes closed anyway.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Aliases are Stranger than Fiction
I figured my SIL has been mentioned enough around here to get her own blog alias.
She suggested Lisa, but we’ve got at least three here already and calling her Bruce (with or without thick, fake Australian accent) to avoid confusion wouldn’t work for reasons metaphorical and literal.**
So I asked her what her middle name was.*** She told me, and I fell off my chair.
It’s Watson.
Forget for a second that I’m the writer around here and she’s the brains—I’ve got my own Watson, y’all!
_________________________
*If your mileage varies that much, this blog is going to bore you to death.
**A brownie point to the first person who gets this reference.
***I refuse to believe this is odd, neglectful, or anti-social. Outside of my immediate family, I don’t bother memorizing middle names—I’m not sure it’s possible. It’s all I can do to remember spouses and married names . . . Yeah, okay, it’s all I can do to remember to ask my parents about them. My memory is stuffed full of other things—none of which are Jeremy Renner’s arms or Benedict Cumberbatch’s cheekbones thank you so very much.^ Though I’ll cop to recognizing them when I see ’em. ^
^Note from Watson: Methinks she doth protest too much.^^
^^Note from Sarah: Hey—you were supposed to be proofreading.
Earful of Cider 
The Watson connection is crazy weird.
Oh, and chocolate chip animal pancakes? Yeah, you rock big time.
it is!! Coincidence is stranger than fiction, too. Or we’d probably call it something else . . .
Those cakes are my triumph. I will never be able to make that cat again—pointy ears are tough! 🙂
I’ll join your sorority, as long as there are not humiliating hazing rituals. (I really want the t-shirt!). Big thumbs up on Jeremy Renner. Who knew? And my bonus points answer is: Pirates of Penzance. (Which may or may not be correct, but I love that song!)
No hazing—except the cost of the shirt. I’ll let you know when we’ve set up the shirts!
Someone just told me Mr. Renner was a musician before he was an actor—must be tough, having all that talent . . . Maybe he’ll do some recordings—I’d buy his album.
It wasn’t Pirates, but I love it, too! 🙂
Those pancakes! I bow down to your culinary superiority.
I consider it a personal victory that my children prefer Canadian pancakes (with real Canadian maple syrup that I lug back with me after each visit) to the English ones (more like a French crepe really)
Good for your kids! It ain’t a Real Pancake unless it breaks when you try to fold it in half.
Genuine Canadian maple syrup . . . sigh . . .
I am a firm believer in rewriting my children’s memories with the reminder of baked goods…giant cupcakes, chocolate chip pancakes, pumpkin muffins. It’s us against them. Do whatever is necessary, that’s my motto.
And, AND we had to pause Sherlock this weekend when he stated your quote (your quote!) so I could explain to my husband your new tattoo. Very cool hearing the quote through our dear Benedict’s mouth, the lovely man.
And of course your SIL’s middle name is Watson. Brilliant.