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.) | | |
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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. | | |
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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. | | |
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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. | | |
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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. | | |
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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. | | |
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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.) | | |
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Edit: This is helpful (with emphasis on the EGA screencaps), as is this. | | |
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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. | | |
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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. A HELPFUL PUBLIC SERVICE (This is not a paid advertisment.) | | |
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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? | | |
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