Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.
Sunny and my husband were both sick yesterday with a nasty gastrobug, and Sunny apparently adopted a giant, barking phlemfrog while I wasn’t looking and hid it in her esophagus.
So I stayed home, too, and got pages done between laundry, rubbing backs, forcing liquids on a disinterested
barking frog kid, and inadvertently marathoning kids’ morning television.
I also managed to throw together some random last night, while ignoring the warning rumbles of my own digestive system.
Here ’tis—the random, not the rumbles. I’m planning on keeping those to myself as long as possible.
Rocket Raccoon. August First. That is All.
What more do you really need?
Not that Chris Pratt’s abs aren’t a very nice touch. Thank you, Movie Trailer!
Cthtomer Service Win
The commute would be totally worth it.
(Thanks, Watson! And Mr. Lovecraft!)
(A Small) Bear With Us
My husband told me that there was a trailer I had to see right away.
As in, “please stop what you’re doing and look at this” right away.
He was right.
Paddington Bear is a Very Big Deal in my husband’s family.
They have all the stories, which they’ve read with varied success to the next generation, and a loved-into-scruffiness family heirloom bear that the next generation denuded and disappeared within two minutes of its bequeathment unto them.
My family’s Very Big Deals have a slightly different focus, so my foremost memory of the Paddington Bear is the bullseye candy he’s always eating, or the marmelade he goes to great trouble—not always his own—to eat.
But I still wouldn’t miss seeing this movie with the bio-Wessons.
Think I’ll sneak in some bullseyes and marmelade.
It’s what Paddington would do.
He’s Been Hurt Before
But he’s not bitter about it or anything.
(This is actually supposed to move, but I don’t gif a darn . . . Click it if you care.)
When I first saw this trailer, I thought—I know that guy. I love that guy—who is that guy?
It’s Jon Favreau.
The director of Iron Man? Plays Happy?
Happy. Tony Stark’s bodyguard/chauffeu—you know what?
But I know how I’m spending my next afternoon off,
gastrobugs and barking phlemfrogs willing.