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A household conversation from a few minutes ago:
Thorne: *yelling down to the kitchen* Hey, did the mayor get arrested?
Louise: *yelling back* Which mayor? The DC mayor?
Thorne: Yeah, DC mayor. Him.
Louise: …Maybe?
*roughly thirty seconds, or the amount of time it takes to walk back to a laptop and google "dc mayor arrested"*
Thorne: *yelling back downstairs again* Yeah, the mayor got arrested.
Louise: Well, business as usual then.
Then she came upstairs and cheerfully told me she had eaten my dinner. And we discussed the fact that somehow we've gotten to the point where when we hear the DC mayor has been arrested, the reaction is less "Seriously?" and more "Was it crack or meth?" (For the record, neither. Gray apparently got arrested for protesting at a rally. But oh, Marion Barry, what legacy you have left us.)
I am at the crazy insane part of my work schedule where I will probably not be seen again until roughly mid-May, when I will emerge from the depths wild-eyed and pantsless and possibly claiming to be the Lizard King. I preemptively apologize to the degree that will be necessary in advance. Many things going on besides work, including but not limited to Stanley Cup playoffs, a visit from the incomparable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flidgetjerome, taxes, late-ass Easter, and all the other crap that goes into trying to sustain some kind of passable adult life. (Man, roughly a year or so ago, I bought a house. How time flies. And a year or so later, I'm still living in it and it hasn't burned down yet.)
So, yeah. I'm deeply looking forward to Flidget's visit, not the least of which is because she's been educating me about football/soccer, and I've been educating her on hockey, and depending on what time she gets here, we may end up drunk and watching a playoff game together. I have so many gchat logs I keep saving bits from, since she is a hilarious teacher. Andhorizon_greene has been slipping the odd baseball tidbit my way, and I keep meaning to make some kind of primer in return for her, so we can exchange filthy sports pornography in our respective areas. But I fear jinxing things by talking about them. So, there is only one silly gchat conversation below this cut for now, and also a poem that semi-ties in with its theme and title, since April is poetry month.
( Poetry and hockey and Putin. One of these things is not like the other things. )
Oh, and in regards to my car and the upturn of spring weather, there is indeed now a distinct whiff of fermentation that gives the olfactory impression I am brewing prison hooch in the wheel-wells. Good times for all.
Thorne: *yelling down to the kitchen* Hey, did the mayor get arrested?
Louise: *yelling back* Which mayor? The DC mayor?
Thorne: Yeah, DC mayor. Him.
Louise: …Maybe?
*roughly thirty seconds, or the amount of time it takes to walk back to a laptop and google "dc mayor arrested"*
Thorne: *yelling back downstairs again* Yeah, the mayor got arrested.
Louise: Well, business as usual then.
Then she came upstairs and cheerfully told me she had eaten my dinner. And we discussed the fact that somehow we've gotten to the point where when we hear the DC mayor has been arrested, the reaction is less "Seriously?" and more "Was it crack or meth?" (For the record, neither. Gray apparently got arrested for protesting at a rally. But oh, Marion Barry, what legacy you have left us.)
I am at the crazy insane part of my work schedule where I will probably not be seen again until roughly mid-May, when I will emerge from the depths wild-eyed and pantsless and possibly claiming to be the Lizard King. I preemptively apologize to the degree that will be necessary in advance. Many things going on besides work, including but not limited to Stanley Cup playoffs, a visit from the incomparable
flidgetjerome, taxes, late-ass Easter, and all the other crap that goes into trying to sustain some kind of passable adult life. (Man, roughly a year or so ago, I bought a house. How time flies. And a year or so later, I'm still living in it and it hasn't burned down yet.)So, yeah. I'm deeply looking forward to Flidget's visit, not the least of which is because she's been educating me about football/soccer, and I've been educating her on hockey, and depending on what time she gets here, we may end up drunk and watching a playoff game together. I have so many gchat logs I keep saving bits from, since she is a hilarious teacher. And
horizon_greene has been slipping the odd baseball tidbit my way, and I keep meaning to make some kind of primer in return for her, so we can exchange filthy sports pornography in our respective areas. But I fear jinxing things by talking about them. So, there is only one silly gchat conversation below this cut for now, and also a poem that semi-ties in with its theme and title, since April is poetry month.( Poetry and hockey and Putin. One of these things is not like the other things. )
Oh, and in regards to my car and the upturn of spring weather, there is indeed now a distinct whiff of fermentation that gives the olfactory impression I am brewing prison hooch in the wheel-wells. Good times for all.
