Oh, thigh holsters! Whoo, that was a lot of hot there.
Hee. I like your weird dreams, Typo. I also like that your dream spirit guides snark at you.
I have very little in the way of rational conversation to contribute because I am all ! over my beloved Mark being back on my screen over at SYTYCD. This show is nuts, y'all.
Aargh. Insomnia attack. Stabbity stabbity. Switch off, brain, switch off.
For everybody who enjoyed the Guardian's live blog of the recordbreaking tennis match yesterday - it's the same spirit behind the captions to this picture gallery (the writer isn't credited but it could be Mr. Brooks):
[link]
Jack Abramoff now working at a pizzeria in Baltimore. [link]
Fivethirtyeight addresses Australia's change of leadership: [link]
The sky is this freaky bright yellow to the East now.
It was so bizarre last night. Clear and sunny now though.
The Queen is visiting Wimbledon today. The liveblogger may be no Xan Brooks, but he's trying:
If she sticks to the schedule, Her Majesty will be arriving right this second, taking lunch at Midday in the club house, head to the Royal box at 1pm and watch an hour and a half of Andy Murray's match against Jarkko Nieminen before leaving "at an appropriate time". Presumably she means to be away before the zombies return - can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if she got bitten and we wound up with an undead monarch?
It doesn't have quite the same tone of exhausted delirium.
I've been puzzling on how one pronounces Xan. Are we doing the X for christ thing? Christan?
I've been thinking Zan, like Xander/Alexander.
I've been pronouncing it Adorable. Things always sound different in my head.
So last night, we had a bit of a rough patch. After mac fell asleep I went searching for Where the Wild Things are clips. I had never heard of Vore and learning about stuff late at night, just probably not what I need right now. My vanilla little life.