she had a scrippe of faint distresse/ that was full of elengenesse
1. I used to get really mad at the administration when I taught, and I used to tell myself that when I was out of teaching I'd write a bald-faced book about what's really going on, and people would read it and say, "Yeah, that’s fucked up." I never did that (though I should. It'd be like the professional career version of blowing up the Bridge Over the River Kwai), but the other day I just realised that I feel the same way about society in general, and I SHOULD WRITE AN ANGRY TELL-ALL BOOK ABOUT IT, and then I realised that since I'd be writing about all of us on the planet, there'd be no one to read it. Like, Maybe an alien or something. LAWL. THAT'LL SHOW YOU ALL. THE SLITHEEN ARE ON TO YOUR JACKASSERY.
2. OMG I MUST SEE THIS FILM.
3.
She mad cute:
Veterinarian Viv:
What's wrong with Mister Potatohead?
I found her like this:
What's in her head?
Fear the pillowpet:
I don't have any control over her clothing choices.
So we finally managed to take a halfway decent pic!
I painted her toes. The colour scheme was her idea:
THEY RETURN:
4. I made pickled red onions. Woah mama.
EDIT: I want to add that my kid just ate three small bowlfuls of these with her lunch. W. T. F. :D
RECIPE: Slice RED ONIONS. I used like one large one. Place in bowl. In a small saucepan bring to boil:
1 c. white wine vinegar
1.c. sugar
3 tsp. Kosher salt
3 tsp black peppercorns
1 cinnamon stick
Stir until well dissolved and then pour over onions. Refridgerate. Chill overnight. THEN CONSUME.
If you are like me, then you have no white wine vinegar and no black peppercorns because you threw them away like a moron. This is okay. Go Asian and use rice vinegar and szechuan peppercorns.
WHO WAS IT THAT WE TALKED ABOUT "I LOVE CORM"? PERSON-IN THE ABOVE THING, I MISTYPED IT AS "CORM" EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I LOVE CORM.
Why was there no corm in this?
I made a corm puree for under my chicken livers with bacon and red onions in a basalmic-wine reduction. NOM NOM NOM.
PHILISTINES.
OMG SO MANY BIBLE JOKES, SO LITTLE TIME.
5. A little excerpt from the latest body swap.
Jack shrugged noncommittally. It was true. This would probably be all over tomorrow Well, except for him and Gwen, but after tomorrow, they'd be distracted cleaning up after "yesterday" and before they knew it, it would be Monday night and he could pee standing up again (he'd tried this morning in the shower. No go on that front.).
Gwen pushed off from the wall and walked towards him to inspect the dressing on his/her arm. "In the meantime it can't hurt to poke around, right? See if those mysterious cuts are something to fret over?" She raised her eyebrows; wow, he had a lot of facial expressions.
"You can do that extremely boring thing. I'm about to make a trip over to the safehouse, to ease the boring tedium of my life," Owen said as brightly as he ever got, which was rather like a half-lit fluorescent shooting sparks from the socket. "Care to join me?"
Jack tapped the bandage gingerly. "Nope. Work." He stabbed a finger at Gwen. "Call Storr at UNIT and sweet talk him into letting us have a submarine." He tilted his head and stared at the swirls on Owen's screensaver down here in the autopsy bay. Was that...was that a vagina? Did Ianto know about this one? Did he even care enough to tell him?
"This is busywork," Gwen murmured, and then looked at him. "I think it'd be cracker to have a submarine, though."
Jack grinned. "Go forth and succeed where I have failed, my grasshopper."
God help him, Jack observed in horror, Gwen skipped back to the stairs and up to his office. Mental note: never, ever skip when you are back in your own body. Sweet god. Unmanning.
"Real reason's that you wanna see the dogs, right?" he said over his shoulder, eyes still glued to Gwen's certainly deliberate sashay into his office.
Owen blinked. "Duh."
***
FUCK YEAH, TORCHWOOD!
2. OMG I MUST SEE THIS FILM.
3.
She mad cute:
Veterinarian Viv:
What's wrong with Mister Potatohead?
I found her like this:
What's in her head?
Fear the pillowpet:
I don't have any control over her clothing choices.
So we finally managed to take a halfway decent pic!
I painted her toes. The colour scheme was her idea:
THEY RETURN:
4. I made pickled red onions. Woah mama.
EDIT: I want to add that my kid just ate three small bowlfuls of these with her lunch. W. T. F. :D
RECIPE: Slice RED ONIONS. I used like one large one. Place in bowl. In a small saucepan bring to boil:
1 c. white wine vinegar
1.c. sugar
3 tsp. Kosher salt
3 tsp black peppercorns
1 cinnamon stick
Stir until well dissolved and then pour over onions. Refridgerate. Chill overnight. THEN CONSUME.
If you are like me, then you have no white wine vinegar and no black peppercorns because you threw them away like a moron. This is okay. Go Asian and use rice vinegar and szechuan peppercorns.
WHO WAS IT THAT WE TALKED ABOUT "I LOVE CORM"? PERSON-IN THE ABOVE THING, I MISTYPED IT AS "CORM" EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I LOVE CORM.
Why was there no corm in this?
I made a corm puree for under my chicken livers with bacon and red onions in a basalmic-wine reduction. NOM NOM NOM.
PHILISTINES.
OMG SO MANY BIBLE JOKES, SO LITTLE TIME.
5. A little excerpt from the latest body swap.
Jack shrugged noncommittally. It was true. This would probably be all over tomorrow Well, except for him and Gwen, but after tomorrow, they'd be distracted cleaning up after "yesterday" and before they knew it, it would be Monday night and he could pee standing up again (he'd tried this morning in the shower. No go on that front.).
Gwen pushed off from the wall and walked towards him to inspect the dressing on his/her arm. "In the meantime it can't hurt to poke around, right? See if those mysterious cuts are something to fret over?" She raised her eyebrows; wow, he had a lot of facial expressions.
"You can do that extremely boring thing. I'm about to make a trip over to the safehouse, to ease the boring tedium of my life," Owen said as brightly as he ever got, which was rather like a half-lit fluorescent shooting sparks from the socket. "Care to join me?"
Jack tapped the bandage gingerly. "Nope. Work." He stabbed a finger at Gwen. "Call Storr at UNIT and sweet talk him into letting us have a submarine." He tilted his head and stared at the swirls on Owen's screensaver down here in the autopsy bay. Was that...was that a vagina? Did Ianto know about this one? Did he even care enough to tell him?
"This is busywork," Gwen murmured, and then looked at him. "I think it'd be cracker to have a submarine, though."
Jack grinned. "Go forth and succeed where I have failed, my grasshopper."
God help him, Jack observed in horror, Gwen skipped back to the stairs and up to his office. Mental note: never, ever skip when you are back in your own body. Sweet god. Unmanning.
"Real reason's that you wanna see the dogs, right?" he said over his shoulder, eyes still glued to Gwen's certainly deliberate sashay into his office.
Owen blinked. "Duh."
***
FUCK YEAH, TORCHWOOD!