Hartnell vs Hartnell.

Damn you, hockey play-by-play. Stop confusing me.
(The mental image of the first Doctor playing hockey is profoundly disconcerting. Try to envision it and I think you'd agree.)

• 01:47 Fundamentally Interconnected: I will now read Dirk Gently in a place that is not my bed in an attempt to not have dreams about slimy things. #

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• 00:31 Craaazy: I swear, everytime the Jägermonsters are given dialogue, I can hear the voice of my grandfather speaking it. twurl.nl/bk6wob #

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Congratulations on Your Escape from an Edith Wharton Novel.

You’ll find the 21st century much less confining.
You can be seen on the street in the company of Mr. Julius Beaufort now without raising eyebrows. You can arrive late (well, a bit late) for dinner at the van der Luydens. You can leave one prominent gentleman and cross the parlor to converse with another, less-prominent gentleman.
A word of advice, though: keep the clothes.
(They’re even more fabulous today than they were back then.)

[. . .]

I know I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, but whoever writes the copy for the J. Peterman Company's catalogue needs to have flowers laid at their feet at the very least and, if it can be arranged, a tickertape parade in their honor.

• 19:08 Mmm, Lambic: And now to see if I can manage complicated knitting mathematics while intoxicated. Or indeed, typing. #
• 22:30 @BZedan Yeah, funny thing but I don't actually enjoy the sensation of being intoxicated. Perhaps it's because knitting math is harder to do. #
• 00:46 Promethean: Before the bottle of lambic was opened, I was handed a box of matches and told to go play with fire. An all around good day. #

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b_zedan is inducing me to buy things from Sock Dreams (hey, it's her job) in honor of Lost Sock Memorial Day. 20% off is a rather shiny offer, and I've had my eye on a few things for a while. But! Oh.

WHAT COLOR.

That's where I get stuck and close the ordering browser tab.
Harrumph.

• 01:14 Schadenfreude: Nothing restores my faith in life quite like reading a Dirk Gently book, and knowing that he has it so much worse than me. #
• 02:05 Lime Curdless: The egg yolks have been commandeered to make pumpkin bread. This is what happens when I am unconscious for an hour and half. #

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I know that face that Hercule Poirot is making. It is the face that one wears when one is woken up too early on a morning that is too bright, surrounded by people too cheerful, and forced to do something that one emphatically does not wish to do.

Oh, indeed. I know it well. It is called the Miss/Mister Crankypants face.
Or so my mother tells me.

• 17:09 Discovery: Like their postal counterparts, the meter maids have pith helmets! However, they do not appear to be carrying elephant guns. #
• 22:39 Exempted from all ladylike behaviour: "Savage. She was found floating down the Amazon. In a hatbox." This is my excuse too. #
• 00:48 Irritating: The Fifth Knitting Needle Pixie apparently has wandered through my needle cache and absconded with . . . all the fifth needles. #

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From b_zedan's post:

There's been chatter amongst the wonderfully ridiculous people I know about how Tony Stark drinks from a Stark Industries logo mug and how we should have logos of our names and put them on mugs and then drink from them and give them as presents and be total jerks.

The key question to a venture like this is "What kind of company would your name be?"

Here at Von Strangehours Industries, we embrace all things pseudonymical. I don't know what we'd specialize in, except perhaps timetravel? Or mad scientist overlording? Or both (hey, there are multiple divisions, why not)?
(Also, logoizing my real last name would be a bad move, fraught with unpleasant associations.)

It's an odd thing. Logos are a pain in the ass for me to come up with, yet I can apply brand identity so well it's frightening. I don't understand.

Elemental - Cup Of Brown Joy from Moog on Vimeo.

When I say "Oo," you say "Long!"

Oo!

I went to post some things and a rain cloud followed me down the hill and back up. Everywhere else was, as you'd expect in this sort of a situation, bright, cheerful and sunlit.

#$@!&%*?!

SERIOUSLY, UNIVERSE. YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT.

Well, meringues are made into tiny little cakes and the whisk is all properly gooey.

Now tell me. Please. What am I supposed to do with six egg yolks?
(The first person to suggest meatloaf will be beaten severely with a spoon.)

• 13:19 NEIN: I don't know what the Germans add to their glass to make the jar extra slippy, but there'll be no pickles today due to unopenableness. #
• 22:29 Post zesting: "You have naked limes!!" Yes. They have no shame. Citrus fruits rarely do. #
• 22:57 Nyet: The world does not appear to share my enthusiasm for small handcarved stampers of Tetris blocks. What could be more awesome I ask you. #
• 01:36 @FortEllsworth Yes, but was it ALL AT ONCE? Because that would be more impressive. (And oppressively crowded.) Perhaps you fib. #
• 01:38 Mimi speaks truth: SGR reminds me of the true value of any potential boyfriend: he must own his own helicopter. twurl.nl/0fplfq #

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Oh man, oh man, oh man.

It's the little things in life, you know? Or more accurately, as the infamous Mister G- has observed, "The best things in life aren't things; they're toys."

After I add this to my to-do list, I'll have try to remember what colors the blocks were on my DOS version, and find appropriate ink.

Edit: This is helpful (with emphasis on the EGA screencaps), as is this.

• 17:11 Aw, Hell: This means we have to play Philly now godammit. That takes all the fun out of winning against New York. Where's the point in that? #
• 19:02 Blogue: I am in love with nearly every single post over at A Practical Compendium of Random Things. twurl.nl/o03hos #

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There are those days where - I'm sure you've experienced this - you cannot even make a grilled cheese sandwich without endagering life as we know it, shattering a stack of plates, stepping on the cat, slicing off a finger, and singeing your lunch simultaneously. The days that make you whimper and want to crawl back into bed because surely you'll be less dangerous when unconscious.

We call these days, ". . . The Destroyer" days. Wherein you tack on "The Destroyer" to your name and revel in saying things like, "CHRONOGRAPHIA THE DESTROYER. CHRONOGRAPHIA SMASH. RAAARRR, BATTLECRY, &C."

It's the only way to cope.

Unfortunately, there are names that do not take to this appendixing method (such as, say, Jennifer), much in the same way that those same names are not suited to having "The Great" after them. My advice to those people? Um. Get yourself a soubriquet that works and insist that people refer to you by it, on pain of you making a grilled cheese sandwich for them.

• 19:38 The Useless & Girly Dept: Progress at making (& documenting) violet water going less than well. Rose water is easier - gotta wait for June? #
• 21:14 Emphasis on Useless: That was more of an example of how to distill failure, rather than violet water. Why does failure come with big messes? #
• 22:01 @BZedan Failure smells like violets, overlaid heavily with boiled cabbage, strangely enough. I am surprised Calvin Klein has not tried this. #

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Thespians, Shakespeare fans, and parties interested in unorthodox gender casting may be interested to know that b_zedan is making her minicomic of Richard III available in her Etsy shop.

Get 'em while they're hot.

Today was filled with plans for making violet water. Plans so clever and complete that they even included writing a tutorial, and taking rather a lot of explanitory pictures. I was excited. The implements were laid out, the flowers picked, the camera batteries fresh.

There was one flaw. Fatal, as they might say.

IT IS NECESSARY TO REMOVE THE GREEN HEEL OF THE FLOWER BEFORE DISTILLATION FULL STOP



The result smells strongly of violets. And boiled greens. Cabbage, more like. Not useful, especially for a scent as delicate as violets.

(The principle is sound, but I just don't have six more cups of violets to check and make sure.)
I just might wait until June rolls around and do this over with rose water instead, what do you think?