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freckles_and_doubtI had to drop the Evil Landlord off in the bowels of Landsdowne this morning, to collect his car (and, praise the cosmic wossnames, Ray The Amazing Mechanic may actually have fixed the frazzled exhaust manifold, thus persuading the wretched thing to stop gassing its occupants by leaking carbon monoxide into the cab). Stuck at a traffic light in the rush hour traffic, I was slightly weirded to note the interesting abstract composition comprising one of those metre-high round blue direction arrow signs, with a lone coffee mug sitting solemnly on top of it, steaming gently. I assume it belonged to the paper-selling gent, but it looked very odd. I would have photographed it but the traffic, fulfilling its nature of Infinite Evil, chose to actually move before I could.
I've just taken the Hobbit to the vet, where it transpires that he is actually chipped: I'm waiting with some dread for the phone call from his (possible) owner, although the identity-chip people sounded more than somewhat vague about the whole thing and it's entirely probable that the info is way out of date. It is a remarkable tribute to his charm and sweetness of character that I still want to keep him despite the fact that he woke me up four times over the course of the night by savagely killing the mat beside my bed. Lots of sliding on the wooden floor, and muffled thumping. I was a bit fragile this morning.
Last night's Middleman was particularly good on the Goofy Middlemism front: "Sweet mother of Nolan Bushnell!", "Story of O!" (that made me snerkle evilly), "Fragments of moonrock!", "Fire and brimstone!", "Ripley's Believe It Or Not!", "Halls of Montezuma!" and "Shores of Tripoli". I was utterly charmed by the opening sequence in the Batter of the Bulge Pancake House (Luftwaffles and Panzer cakes ft slightly politically incorrect w), mostly because I was immediately able to enter the joyous Wendy/Tyler game of Gutwrencher I into my personal, growing collection of Activities Coded As Sex Even Though Technically They Aren't, along with vampire biting and Willow's spell-casting with Tara. It's all so beautifully geeky. Added points for all the spy thriller references and the game of Shibumi, which is possibly the most irresistibly silly thing I've seen in ages. I do, indeed, love this show.
I've just taken the Hobbit to the vet, where it transpires that he is actually chipped: I'm waiting with some dread for the phone call from his (possible) owner, although the identity-chip people sounded more than somewhat vague about the whole thing and it's entirely probable that the info is way out of date. It is a remarkable tribute to his charm and sweetness of character that I still want to keep him despite the fact that he woke me up four times over the course of the night by savagely killing the mat beside my bed. Lots of sliding on the wooden floor, and muffled thumping. I was a bit fragile this morning.
Last night's Middleman was particularly good on the Goofy Middlemism front: "Sweet mother of Nolan Bushnell!", "Story of O!" (that made me snerkle evilly), "Fragments of moonrock!", "Fire and brimstone!", "Ripley's Believe It Or Not!", "Halls of Montezuma!" and "Shores of Tripoli". I was utterly charmed by the opening sequence in the Batter of the Bulge Pancake House (Luftwaffles and Panzer cakes ft slightly politically incorrect w), mostly because I was immediately able to enter the joyous Wendy/Tyler game of Gutwrencher I into my personal, growing collection of Activities Coded As Sex Even Though Technically They Aren't, along with vampire biting and Willow's spell-casting with Tara. It's all so beautifully geeky. Added points for all the spy thriller references and the game of Shibumi, which is possibly the most irresistibly silly thing I've seen in ages. I do, indeed, love this show.
