I hope it’s not wrong to look at the calendar and say, It’s Thursday! I don’t have to come up with a cohesive blog post! I can just throw bits and pieces at it! No one can make me make sense! Whee!
Not that I can claim to make much sense anyway, but I feel better about it on Thursdays.
oooOOOooo
It was a record 92F yesterday, with about 89% humidity. I don’t care if some of you in less temperate areas are snickering, we had a flippin’ freeze three days ago, and my personal temp-tolerance is taking a beating.
The library was supposed to have the AC working, but there was a bit of trouble that wasn’t solved until after everyone went home, which meant I spent the day carrying around my desk fan, unplugging it without turning it off and hoping the blades wouldn’t stop before I reached the outlet at my next destination.
I entered the oven that was my car, cranked the AC, picked up a limp Janie, who had stripped down—or perhaps up?—to her pinafore, and went home to find that the cat had melted all over the living room floor like a furry flounder.
Apparently, Captain Thermostat, aka, That Man I Married, decided that fresh air was more important than protecting his family from stewing in their own juices and preventing his wife from becoming a sweaty, cranky, exhausted Goddess of Doom. I abused him disabused him of this notion, he turned on the central air, and things are now quite pleasant in the Wesson household.
Technology—it exists for a reason, people.
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But he made it up later by sending me the link to these:
Yes, that’s right! IKEA SciFi manuals! Click the link, share the love!
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Have I ever mentioned Genevieve Valentine’s blog? Because her movie reviews and her analysis of red carpet fashions are snarktastic crack—or maybe cracktastic snark. Whichever.
Her pre-review of the move Priest, based on the lobby cards and trailers, had my husband and I laughing out loud and reading lines to each other from our respective laptops.
And I quote:
“However, in this film [Karl Urban] is the chosen representative of the Ham-Off Delegation, and so he has Scenery-Chewing Immunity and must not yet be discussed as per the Curry-Walken Bylaws, which require the film to be viewed before the comparative cinematic value of the Ham-Off can be determined.”
I am in drop-jawed awe of the woman’s wordskills—even if I occasionally disagree with her, I always enjoy how she states her opinions.
Ms. Valentine also just released a book, Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, which appears from the description to be a dystopi -Cirque du Soleil-steampunk fantasy. I’m in!
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My reward for finishing the first Pigeon draft by my birthday—which I’m going to accomplish come hell, highwater, locusts, frogs, hallucinogenic-levels of sleep deprivation, caffeine poisoning, and Captain Thermostat—is going to be a Doctor Who Eleven marathon (and thanks to Lyra for the inspiration).
Hey. Grim determination and borderline obsession is cool.
I currently have 37 days left.
Bring it.
Earful of Cider 