Random Thursday: Geek Alphabets, Brazilian Brilliance, and Tasty Eyeballs

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.

I’ve been seeing pre-migraine sparklies since last night.

They’re very pretty . . .


O is for Otis Frampton is Outstanding

Artist Otis Frampton is doing a series he calls ABCDEFGeek.


It’s awesome.

And occasionally heartbreaking.


The Letter T moved me to tears.

It isn’t finished, yet, but Mr. Frampton has a lot of other great stuff in his gallery to look at while you’re waiting.


Rugby Burns, Brazilian Style

If American soccer tried this kind of campaign,
we might remember that David Beckham is an athlete
and not just Mr. Posh Spice.

Okay, probably not . . . but it would be worth a try.

(thanks, Watson!)


The Eye Has It

Four people sent me the video of Benedict Cumberbatch on Sesame Street,
and thank you, because I hadn’t seen it and I love Murray Monster and the Count and it’s fun

But since then, it’s been posted everywhere from Facebook to CNN,
so I figure the reason the rest of you haven’t sent it to me was because you assumed I’d seen it, too,
which I had,
Or because you don’t know how much I love Sherlock Holmes in any format
which means you’re new around here,
Or you haven’t bothered to see the BBC’s version of Sherlock,
which you absolutely should.*

So here’s something my good friend and fellow Sherlock fan firstmausi sent me:


If you don’t know why this image is one of my favorite things,
the third season of Sherlock is supposed to be out on DVD on February 11th.

Watch the second episode and get back to me.


Dumb Housework

I didn’t—I don’t, usually, to be honest—but now I’ve been given the perfect excuse not to.


(thanks, Vicki!)


Reality Never Bothered Me, Anyway

Poetic license strikes again!


*Or you have a life.  Then again, you’re reading the footnotes on a blog, so . . .

Random Thursday: twerking stormtroopers, Fowl Language, and 1:42 minutes of inexplicable

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.

Watson sent me the first one, Kev sent me the Stormtroopers.  

I’ve no idea where the last one came from . . . afraid to ask, really.


Two Stages of Winter

Brian Gordon, creator of the Fowl Language webcomic, is brilliant.

His Archives are a Time Suck of Pure Win.

Go Read them.


Just Go With It

And then listen again with your eyes closed, ’cause the music is that good.

Both song and video are from the brain of the insanely talented ScottDW and many of his equally insane friends.

The behind the scenes video is excellent.


“Want to see some more?”

Oh, God, yes.

Sherlock Yum

The boys have finally reached the U.S. and I’m very, very happy about it.

Love the cameos, love the characterizations, love the nods to fanfic, love the headbutt, love the goldfish jab.

Hate Molly’s new boyfriend, but that’s just a Lestrade-admiration byproduct.

Love, love, love.



Whose Who’s Whos’ Catchphrases?

Is there a wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey grammarian in the blogosphere?

Who's Catchphrases

(Hey, Lyra—this one’s for you)


This . . . It’s . . . I Can’t Even . . . Um



Random Thursday: Anything You Can Randomize . . .

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s acquired here and there 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.


First, Some Fanvid Love:

I love BBC Sherlock*  and I love Dr. Who** and I like fanvid mashups.  And I’m not apologizing for any of it.

The song is one of my kids’ favorites, too.

There’s another version between Doctors Ten*** and Eleven—the last three seconds are priceless.


epic win photos - Library's Cover Art WIN
This is the parking garage of—or possibly just near—the downtown library in Kansas City.

I’ve never been there, but if this is where patrons park, can’t you imagine the possibilities for the actual library?


I Hate Flying

I sent a friend of mine a rant about how much I didn’t want to fly to Bouchercon this October.^  I said I’d rather bike.

Five minutes later, he sent me a link to this, with a note: Why not do both?


Rough Translation:  Bless You and Lay off the Broccoli

My SIL suggested that I write up this truly bizarre  conversation we had with, I think, Sunny, but right now I can’t remember a word of it, or even the subject.

I blame Janie, who, when someone^^ passed audible gas last night, grinned and said, “Gesund-toot.”

I love that kid.


Anything you can do—Wait, Gift Bags?

I knew one of these men could sing.  I knew one of these men could dance.   But both?   I am replete.


*Really, Sarah?  Never noticed.

**Still haven’t noticed.

***I’m sure than not really a crown in Ten’s mouth.  It’s probably alien technology that allows him to . . . sing really long notes?

^And it looks like I’m going to have to, unless I can get two days off on either side for travel and recovery.  Or talk someone into driving up with  me.

^^Let’s just say it was Sunny, as she’s young enough to get away with it and can’t read the blog, yet.

The last official (if belated) post of 2011

I spent the day with Sunny, as we both had today off. I rarely get to do this—it was fun.

She woke up well after I dropped Jane off at school* and we watched a little Nick Jr. and had dry Cheerios and pretended to be turtles with the laundry hampers I was supposed to use for the three loads I had to finish or risk several of us going to work or school naked tomorrow.**

After lunch at Sunny’s favorite restaurant—they have dinosaur chicken nuggets, waffle fries, and a decent adult menu, too—we watched Disney’s Princess and the Frog, by which I mean she watched it while I watched something completely different on my laptop with headphones.***

We spent the rest of the afternoon “flopping on the bed,” which is a game—half aerobics, half pro-wrestling—that she invented back when she was younger and it didn’t hurt so much for her to bounce on the mattress and land an elbow drop to Mommy’s spleen, but she’s far more susceptible to psychological tickle-fingers , so it all evens out.  We also gave the cat a brushing and zapped pinkies with the static.

Not a bad way to spend our last hours of holiday freedom.

And then her Daddy came home and I was immediately abandoned.  I  dragged my squashed spleen over to my laptop, breathed for a bit and thought about 2011 for a while—you know, for the sake of Auld Lang Syne, and also because I remembered I needed a blog post.^

This was one hell of a year, y’all, for all kinds of reasons.

I started to list ’em out, but I already have a blog archive, off to the left there, and a decent search engine.  It’s pretty much all there, and I’ve left bits and pieces of the rest on most of your blogs as well.

So I’m going to spare you all that and skip to the end (you’re welcome).

There have been moments of upset and one patch of depression, sure, but the lows weren’t as low as they might have been—and the highs?  They soared.

And the main reason for this?  You all.

Those of you who comment, those who just land and like, those of you who send me e-mails and poems and bracelets and oh, mercy, the videos.

Those of you who have taken the time over the past twelve months to tell me (or show me) that I’m not wasting mine.

Thank you so much.  And thanks in advance for 2012—it’s going to be a blast.

epic win photos - Superhero Cookies WIN

Have a virtual hero cookie—you deserve it!  And don’t forget to tell me which one you chose!

*It started snowing halfway there and she suddenly realized she didn’t have mittens or a hat. So I handed over the gloves she gave me for Christmas (the cirrrrcle of liiiiife) and my second favorite red felted cloche hat. All came back, although the jet pin on the hat had mysteriously transferred itself to Jane’s jacket during the course of the day.

**And baby, it’s suddenly waaaay too cold outside for that.  I have no idea what’s going on with the weather (as if I ever have a clue)  It was 50F on Sunday—my husband took the kids out the hit baseballs at the park—and here it is 22 out, with a thin coating of indifferent snowflakes.  No wonder my sinuses are vibrating like tympani.

*** Yes.  This different, second season division.  And all I have to say about this at the moment is SQUEE.  I repeat, with all due dignity, SQUEE.  And to the person who made it possible, thank you again for saving everyone from the terror of my Brando impression.

^I swear I’m going to think it’s Monday all week.  Heaven help me if I have to date something without the magic of autofill . . .