“Also, a general question: Does anyone actually like that “12 Days of Christmas”” song? I mean, aside from the drunkenly bellowing “Five GOLDEN RINGS!!!” part. Every time it comes on, I cringe knowing it’s going to be on for six or seven minutes of enforced jollity. It’s like the “Stairway to Heaven” of Christmas carols, the one whose original charm has entirely rubbed off and has managed stick in the canon simply by sheer barnacle-like tenacity. Dump it, I say!”
–John Scalzi
yahtzee63 ponders what would happen if the Fab Five visited various SF characters. Hilarity ensues.
Thanks to rmjwell for the link!
Yesterday afternoon I got home from work feeling utterly exhausted — to the point where I fell asleep in front of the TV within 15 minutes of turning it on. So I thought I’d go lie down for a nap until kitanzi got home. about 20 minutes later, she called me, asking if I’d be willing to come pick her up from work because she wasn’t feeling well either.
Neither of us seems to be outright sick, but both feeling a bit under the weather, so we’ve taken it easy today. We did go to the library booksale, and picked up a small handful of books, including a half dozen Keith Laumer Retief books, which I’ve never actually read, and an AD&D Fiend Folio, a lovely book that usually sells for quite a bit, and they only wanted $1 for. Then we swung down to Roswell to check the Gafilk mailbox, and back home for relaxation.
We waited until six to officially decide not to attend the Atlanta housefilk tonight. Disappointing, as this marks the fourth in a row we’ve missed for one reason or another, but Gafilk is in one month, and we’ll get to see everyone there. I hope everyone has a good time.
So, in leui of anything actually interesting to say, I’ll succumb to the last resort of the helpless blogger
mishalak did this up for me back in October, and I was so bummed about the Yankees/ Red Sox series that I forgot to post it. But I suppose Deification has no expiration date, so better late than never. Thanks mishalak
Rob the Wayfinder
God (or Patron Saint when he’s avoiding torches among hot blooded Evangelicals) of Black Cats, Sneaky Fans, Clever Commuters, and Back Roads. In his own words (sort of):
Powers: I’m the god to go to when you need help finding your way around traffic jams, construction, and those difficult to navigate side streets. Also I’m terribly helpful in being able to get in and out of places silently, almost like a cat one would say.
Weakness(es): It’s not that I’m especially vulnerable to fire, I just I guess I am for a god. So no waving torches at me! On the other hand if you’re serving Iced Tea I’ll sit down for a while and if it’s made with Darjeeling tea, well that’s just decadent.
Sacred Animal: Cats of course, as if you had to ask. Black ones. Though they also count as people you know.
Feast Day: The 4th Friday of June
Weapon: Glock Nine Millimeter with Silencer, natch. Though these things only get used when something gone terribly wrong.
“Actually, an old, fat Elvis porn flick could be amusing. They could play bad jazzy instrumental versions of his songs during the sex scenes, and after the money shot, he could pat the girl on the ass and say ‘uh, thank yew. thank yew verra much.'”
First of all, happy birthday to the sublime catsittingstill on her natal anniversary. I’m still entirely convinced that Cat is not strictly human, but somehow a Tolkien elf who never passed into the West, but at any rate, we’re damn glad to have her around.
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I adore Mark Morford. Sometimes he goes a bit over the top, but i love the sensibility that anchors his work. I especially liked column today. I could have written the following about myself:
“I don’t watch NASCAR or “WWE Raw” or “The Man Show.” I don’t read a lot of Maxim or ESPN Magazine or Sporting News nor frequent Gold’s Gym with a cadre of thick muscled dudes named Rick or Tony who stand over me and spot my bench presses with a lot of c’mon dude you can do it pump one more rep yeah yeah yeah, just before we all high five and go out for pizza and beer and talk about SportsCenter and the crazy shopping habits/frustrating fellatio inhibitions of our wives.
I do not spend endless hours of every weekend out in the garage rebuilding my rusty old ’67 ‘Stang. I do not grill giant slabs of beef ribs on the Weber every night. I do not reshingle the house or wear khaki Dockers or pound pitchers of Bud Light at O’Shaunessey’s during the Final Four. Maybe I should. But I don’t.
In fact, I engage in few stereotypical manly guy things largely because I live in the City and enjoy a wickedly urban and decidedly lubricious lifestyle, and tend to find many traditionally “guy” activities to be sort of unfulfilling and uninteresting and occasionally sort of dorky and faux macho and sadly devoid of divine sensuality and intellectual mystery and really good booze. But whatever. That’s just me.”
The truth is, I’ve never been entirely comfortable with “guy things”. Most of my close personal friends are female. I enjoy “chick flicks”. I cry over sentimental things. I find most of the concerns of the “average male” to be banal. I often wonder if there wasn’t some sort of mixup in the Souls Routing department, and somewhere out there is a very tomboyish girl who enjoys auto repair and football who was supposed to end up in this body. Something to think over.
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Dayna is definitely feeling much better this morning, and back to her old friendly self. And I got a voice mail from the vet on her blood work from last week, confirming that she’s negative for FIV and feline leukemia. This doesn’t remotely surprise me, since she’s never been outside a day in her life, but it’s still reassuring to know her health is in top shape.
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Rejoined the Columbia House DVD club for another set of nearly free DVDs (seven for the price of two, essentially). Picked up Willy Wonka And the Chocolate Factory, Harold and Maude, Sense and Sensibility, The Englisman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down a Mountain, Schoolhouse Rock, Forrest Gump, and the amusing Mel Gibson/Helen Hunt film What Women Want. Also picked up the Matthew Broderick remake of The Music Man, because, let’s face it, I’m curious. It takes a lot of guts to step into a part that is so firmly and universally associated with one actor, in this case the late, great Robert Preston. I admit that Harold Hill is a part I’ve always wanted to do on stage myself. And of course, I got Pirates of the Caribbean because it rocks and stuff.
We didn’t actually watch any of these last night, opting for The Daily Show and the last part of the sex in the 20th century documentary that was stacked up on the TiVo. TiVo good. I like the TiVo.
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Almost no one wants to ask me questions? The poll is still open!