CLAM CHOWDER FOR LUNCH!!
Things about my egg salad that grossed the mister out, last time I made it:
-hard boiled eggs
-miracle whip
-mustard
-dill relish
2. If I were a Didion fan I'd say I were slouching towards Bethlehem, but since I apparently got my English degree out of a box of cracker jack (evidence: 1. didn't recognize Whitman quote in SGA fanfic; 2. don't care for Didion; 3. hate beats with unholy passion; 4. couldn't pick your famous poet of choice out of a lineup (parentheses number two, if I didn't recognize Whitman, what are the odds that John Sheppard would really recognize Churchill, really?)), I'm just going to say that I am semi-triumphantly limping to a finish!
2a. Since my printer chose the second-to-last week of the semester to croak, I just sent an email full of papers to print to myself at work called, "dead in the face." I think that's a pretty good descriptor.
3. I gave a powerpoint presentation today about a dragon and Zoolander.
4.
"You know what I'd really like," says Rodney, stepping through the gate, "is about a month in a beach house on the east coast."
"Hello?" says John. Five steps ago Rodney was talking about power thingums and space modules and dynamics and ratios.
"East coast of what?" asks Ronon.
"America, obviously," says Rodney, snappily getting out some tablet or other.
"Obviously," says Ronon, who's maybe been around them all too much.
"Obviously," echoes John. "Have fun with that thing picking out the ugliest life to ever live." He gestures first at Rodney's tablet, then at the world around them. It's true. MX5-787 is one of the ugliest worlds they've visited in a long, long time. Everything is varying shades and hues of Yuck, Uggo, Yerch, and Nast.
"Maybe everyone here is blind," Rodney posits. "You know, like in A Wrinkle in Time? They couldn't see, so it didn't matter that everything was bland and the food looked awful because they were kind and understanding and the food was delicious?"
"I would like to read this book," Teyla puts in. "It sounds like a wise allegory of man's preconceptions about man."
"Meg's dad calls her Megatron," Rodney adds, helpfully, without blinking, as they crest a hill and look down to see a delegation of tall, wrinkley people with long walking sticks moving towards them. "Oh my god! Aunt Beast! Seriously, Colonel, look!"
John has to admit the walking sticks look a lot like canes.
"What's the east coast like?" Ronon asks, while they wait politely for the delegation to meet them.
"Full of douchebags," says John, and gets an elbow in the sternum for it.
"The beaches are great, up north. Cape Cod? Seriously, Sheppard, wouldn't that be nice? A beach house, you know, and oh, clam chowder, and everything would be painted that nice light blue color and the whitewash would be coming off but not because it was run-down, but because it looked better that way--" Rodney falters. "Okay, maybe kinda douchey," he concedes.
"Maine," says John.
"I read one of your books called One Morning in Maine," says Teyla, Atlantis's new literary queen.
"Yeah," says John. "Blueberries, and beaches, and clam chowder, still" --he elbows Rodney right back-- "but no hipsters or douchefaces and no Kennedys and a population density of, like, seven--"
"Bears," adds Teyla.
"Well, yes, bears, but also, beaches and sweatshirts at the same time--oh man--can we go to a Maine-planet next, please?" Rodney turns his giant blue eyes onto John.
"You know what I miss?" John addresses the planet at large. "I miss the days when we didn't have any friends or allies and no one knew who the fuck we were and we never had time to talk about the oeuvre of Robert McCloskey because we might get shot at."
"No, you don't," say Rodney and Teyla together.
"You really don't," says Ronon, like he knows something, and lowering his voice, leans in close. "Look, they really are blind. Maybe we should read that book when we get back."
"What, One Morning in Maine, or A Wrinkle in Time?" John gives up.
"Which one has the allegory?"
"A Wrinkle in Time. One Morning in Maine has --no wait, and I'm as surprised as you are to hear myself saying this--that's Blueberries for Sal. One Morning in Maine is the one where they take the boat to the mainland and get a sparkplug, or whatever. Oh my god, maybe these nice blind people will shoot me."
"Hello, friends!" calls out the leader. "We see with our fingers, not our eyes; we would see your faces with our hands!" and Rodney barely has enough time to stop smirking before the youngest-looking one covers his face with his hands.
By which I mean, of course, oh my god, I am putting the laundry in the dryer and taking a shower and going the fuck to BED.
Back to the Sea - The Futureheads
-hard boiled eggs
-miracle whip
-mustard
-dill relish
2. If I were a Didion fan I'd say I were slouching towards Bethlehem, but since I apparently got my English degree out of a box of cracker jack (evidence: 1. didn't recognize Whitman quote in SGA fanfic; 2. don't care for Didion; 3. hate beats with unholy passion; 4. couldn't pick your famous poet of choice out of a lineup (parentheses number two, if I didn't recognize Whitman, what are the odds that John Sheppard would really recognize Churchill, really?)), I'm just going to say that I am semi-triumphantly limping to a finish!
2a. Since my printer chose the second-to-last week of the semester to croak, I just sent an email full of papers to print to myself at work called, "dead in the face." I think that's a pretty good descriptor.
3. I gave a powerpoint presentation today about a dragon and Zoolander.
4.
"You know what I'd really like," says Rodney, stepping through the gate, "is about a month in a beach house on the east coast."
"Hello?" says John. Five steps ago Rodney was talking about power thingums and space modules and dynamics and ratios.
"East coast of what?" asks Ronon.
"America, obviously," says Rodney, snappily getting out some tablet or other.
"Obviously," says Ronon, who's maybe been around them all too much.
"Obviously," echoes John. "Have fun with that thing picking out the ugliest life to ever live." He gestures first at Rodney's tablet, then at the world around them. It's true. MX5-787 is one of the ugliest worlds they've visited in a long, long time. Everything is varying shades and hues of Yuck, Uggo, Yerch, and Nast.
"Maybe everyone here is blind," Rodney posits. "You know, like in A Wrinkle in Time? They couldn't see, so it didn't matter that everything was bland and the food looked awful because they were kind and understanding and the food was delicious?"
"I would like to read this book," Teyla puts in. "It sounds like a wise allegory of man's preconceptions about man."
"Meg's dad calls her Megatron," Rodney adds, helpfully, without blinking, as they crest a hill and look down to see a delegation of tall, wrinkley people with long walking sticks moving towards them. "Oh my god! Aunt Beast! Seriously, Colonel, look!"
John has to admit the walking sticks look a lot like canes.
"What's the east coast like?" Ronon asks, while they wait politely for the delegation to meet them.
"Full of douchebags," says John, and gets an elbow in the sternum for it.
"The beaches are great, up north. Cape Cod? Seriously, Sheppard, wouldn't that be nice? A beach house, you know, and oh, clam chowder, and everything would be painted that nice light blue color and the whitewash would be coming off but not because it was run-down, but because it looked better that way--" Rodney falters. "Okay, maybe kinda douchey," he concedes.
"Maine," says John.
"I read one of your books called One Morning in Maine," says Teyla, Atlantis's new literary queen.
"Yeah," says John. "Blueberries, and beaches, and clam chowder, still" --he elbows Rodney right back-- "but no hipsters or douchefaces and no Kennedys and a population density of, like, seven--"
"Bears," adds Teyla.
"Well, yes, bears, but also, beaches and sweatshirts at the same time--oh man--can we go to a Maine-planet next, please?" Rodney turns his giant blue eyes onto John.
"You know what I miss?" John addresses the planet at large. "I miss the days when we didn't have any friends or allies and no one knew who the fuck we were and we never had time to talk about the oeuvre of Robert McCloskey because we might get shot at."
"No, you don't," say Rodney and Teyla together.
"You really don't," says Ronon, like he knows something, and lowering his voice, leans in close. "Look, they really are blind. Maybe we should read that book when we get back."
"What, One Morning in Maine, or A Wrinkle in Time?" John gives up.
"Which one has the allegory?"
"A Wrinkle in Time. One Morning in Maine has --no wait, and I'm as surprised as you are to hear myself saying this--that's Blueberries for Sal. One Morning in Maine is the one where they take the boat to the mainland and get a sparkplug, or whatever. Oh my god, maybe these nice blind people will shoot me."
"Hello, friends!" calls out the leader. "We see with our fingers, not our eyes; we would see your faces with our hands!" and Rodney barely has enough time to stop smirking before the youngest-looking one covers his face with his hands.
By which I mean, of course, oh my god, I am putting the laundry in the dryer and taking a shower and going the fuck to BED.
Back to the Sea - The Futureheads