![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whitereflectionBecause I do the straightforward thing of walking sideways backwards: http://www.livejournal.com/users/crisper/26562.html Mark your calendars: January 27th is Rabbit Hole Day
And so:
So I heard that today was Lewis Carroll's birthday, and as is unfortunately the case for anyone I do or don't know, I'd forgotten and hadn't gotten a card. So I figured I'd send a gift, but I didn't have any idea what to get--and I wondered if things going through customs to be sent to the dead would take any less time than things do when sent to England. So I figured I'd avoid that whole mess and just send flowers, but then Morgan Fairchild reminded me that he's allergic. How unfortunate--must suck to be under all that grass and such then.
Had to get home, but I never did, because the penguins were picketing Warren Buffett's house again, and I think they're demanding Bill Gate's head this time. Last time they'd only wanted his soul, but I guess they were too late--it'd been chopped off in an unfortunate lawn gnome and sprinkler incident anyway. I should've taken the interstate, but I heard from the traffic report playing on my tinfoil hat that it was closed due to a giant mellon baller having taken a massive chunk out of the I-80/I-680 junction. Friend of mine said that was okay, though--made it look a lot more spacious.
I was about to ask her what she meant by that, but then the guy next to me noted that we'd finally gotten that hole to China we'd always wanted (but it wasn't what I'd wanted--I'd wanted a hole to Belgium). I tried to tell him that it wasn't possible because the magma had put up barbed wire to keep us out, but by then a young Asian man was climbing out of the hole, and demanded I return my iPod to the waters from whence it came. Couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about, when he told me it'd been made in Taiwan, but it was lonely for its homeland, and wanted to go back to spawn. Though frankly, I think my iPod out of anyone's is well, well past spawning age--and how fecund could it be, anyway, with only 5 gig of reproductive capacity?
That didn't go over to well, and he smacked me in the knee with a hubcap, but it felt kind of good because of the ice cream. About that time, this other gal I know finally got there on her camel, and asked if I wanted to hitch a ride with, and I did, but somewhere about that time someone hit the flushing mechanism, and everything ended up down the mellon-baller-to-China-but-more-like-Taiwan hole. Except I didn't, which proves I need to lose weight. But at least I kept the doorman's spleen from getting away from him.
This young girl started tugging on my shirtsleeve, and asked me if I'd be able to help bring her mother back, and at first I thought she meant out of the hole, but it had wandered off and so the street was smooth again--strange, because in Omaha our streets are actually paved with swiss cheese, so I'm not sure when they ended up cheddar. I guess she caught me in one of my 'nice' moments, since I agreed and asked her where I needed to look--she said I didn't have to do anything, just stand in a circle with she and her most important people. I guess her mother had died a long time ago from some illness, but she knew the power of wish could bring her back. Kind of strange, but I guess it's worth a shot. Why she needed me I wasn't sure, except she said she had everyone who believed with her, but she needed someone who *wanted* to believe to help spark her magic and make it real.
Kinda cool, I guess. I took off not long after, because the whole group of them were really happy-teary, and there was just something about seeing the woman and her husband--damned nicest guy I ever met, except for his son's boyfriend--run to hug each other like that. Couldn't let any of 'em see me get choked up. And anyway, the pink sparkles were kinda making me sneeze, and some of the more alive ones were getting in my hair--still am trying to brush them out. I wonder where the woman will buy shirts now, though, because even with the wishing and everything she still had her wings.
Anyway, just got back to the house, and was told by the cats that the packing was just about done, but we wouldn't be able to get to Portugal on time--so I guess we're moving to Seattle, or at least the more Canadian side of Seattle--where things aren't quite so orange. Was afraid I was going to be late like usual, except Bebop found the Bermuda Triangle under the rug. Except I don't know about your triangles, but this one more had a parallelogram thing going on, but without the tire tracks down one side. And I would have fixed it all by cutting the peaches off the ceiling, but by then the damned cat had chewed it into a moebius strip, at which point he explained to me that it was all really simple: fix the core of the hydrogen, and suddenly you can win popularity contests. He would have told me more, but the air molecules in his brain repolarized, and he felt the sudden need to race down the stairs and tackle Tink-cat until they rolled into the wall with a thud. They still haven't come out of the wall, but I think we no longer have mice.
I still don't know what to do about the king and queen of cheese at work, but from what I understand, they're suing the president until they are instead called "dairy-Americans" (whereas their antithesis are "dairy-American-rares" otherwise known as "dairyArs"). But I'm more worried about what my supervisor's going to insist I do with the chopsticks, except by the time she actually spoke a whole sentence, time had ended and the universe shrivelled up into a black-raisiney thing, which I suppose is good, because otherwise I would have stomped her foot and shoved her into the den of rabid rug bears--you know, the little small ones that hide in shag carpet?
So, not much else went on other than that, except I still don't have that card. Finally took a chance to lie down, but the butter that had been spread on the couch smelled like coconuts, and because of that, by the time I woke up it was three days from now. And if I'm not finished with my project to spin Weird Al Yankovic songs into threads of pure energy by yesterday two years ago, I'm going to end up with a overstuffed chair with no ducks to hide underneath it.
By the way, does anyone have the key for that quasar? I think I've locked myself in.
And so:
So I heard that today was Lewis Carroll's birthday, and as is unfortunately the case for anyone I do or don't know, I'd forgotten and hadn't gotten a card. So I figured I'd send a gift, but I didn't have any idea what to get--and I wondered if things going through customs to be sent to the dead would take any less time than things do when sent to England. So I figured I'd avoid that whole mess and just send flowers, but then Morgan Fairchild reminded me that he's allergic. How unfortunate--must suck to be under all that grass and such then.
Had to get home, but I never did, because the penguins were picketing Warren Buffett's house again, and I think they're demanding Bill Gate's head this time. Last time they'd only wanted his soul, but I guess they were too late--it'd been chopped off in an unfortunate lawn gnome and sprinkler incident anyway. I should've taken the interstate, but I heard from the traffic report playing on my tinfoil hat that it was closed due to a giant mellon baller having taken a massive chunk out of the I-80/I-680 junction. Friend of mine said that was okay, though--made it look a lot more spacious.
I was about to ask her what she meant by that, but then the guy next to me noted that we'd finally gotten that hole to China we'd always wanted (but it wasn't what I'd wanted--I'd wanted a hole to Belgium). I tried to tell him that it wasn't possible because the magma had put up barbed wire to keep us out, but by then a young Asian man was climbing out of the hole, and demanded I return my iPod to the waters from whence it came. Couldn't figure out what the hell he was talking about, when he told me it'd been made in Taiwan, but it was lonely for its homeland, and wanted to go back to spawn. Though frankly, I think my iPod out of anyone's is well, well past spawning age--and how fecund could it be, anyway, with only 5 gig of reproductive capacity?
That didn't go over to well, and he smacked me in the knee with a hubcap, but it felt kind of good because of the ice cream. About that time, this other gal I know finally got there on her camel, and asked if I wanted to hitch a ride with, and I did, but somewhere about that time someone hit the flushing mechanism, and everything ended up down the mellon-baller-to-China-but-more-like-Taiwan hole. Except I didn't, which proves I need to lose weight. But at least I kept the doorman's spleen from getting away from him.
This young girl started tugging on my shirtsleeve, and asked me if I'd be able to help bring her mother back, and at first I thought she meant out of the hole, but it had wandered off and so the street was smooth again--strange, because in Omaha our streets are actually paved with swiss cheese, so I'm not sure when they ended up cheddar. I guess she caught me in one of my 'nice' moments, since I agreed and asked her where I needed to look--she said I didn't have to do anything, just stand in a circle with she and her most important people. I guess her mother had died a long time ago from some illness, but she knew the power of wish could bring her back. Kind of strange, but I guess it's worth a shot. Why she needed me I wasn't sure, except she said she had everyone who believed with her, but she needed someone who *wanted* to believe to help spark her magic and make it real.
Kinda cool, I guess. I took off not long after, because the whole group of them were really happy-teary, and there was just something about seeing the woman and her husband--damned nicest guy I ever met, except for his son's boyfriend--run to hug each other like that. Couldn't let any of 'em see me get choked up. And anyway, the pink sparkles were kinda making me sneeze, and some of the more alive ones were getting in my hair--still am trying to brush them out. I wonder where the woman will buy shirts now, though, because even with the wishing and everything she still had her wings.
Anyway, just got back to the house, and was told by the cats that the packing was just about done, but we wouldn't be able to get to Portugal on time--so I guess we're moving to Seattle, or at least the more Canadian side of Seattle--where things aren't quite so orange. Was afraid I was going to be late like usual, except Bebop found the Bermuda Triangle under the rug. Except I don't know about your triangles, but this one more had a parallelogram thing going on, but without the tire tracks down one side. And I would have fixed it all by cutting the peaches off the ceiling, but by then the damned cat had chewed it into a moebius strip, at which point he explained to me that it was all really simple: fix the core of the hydrogen, and suddenly you can win popularity contests. He would have told me more, but the air molecules in his brain repolarized, and he felt the sudden need to race down the stairs and tackle Tink-cat until they rolled into the wall with a thud. They still haven't come out of the wall, but I think we no longer have mice.
I still don't know what to do about the king and queen of cheese at work, but from what I understand, they're suing the president until they are instead called "dairy-Americans" (whereas their antithesis are "dairy-American-rares" otherwise known as "dairyArs"). But I'm more worried about what my supervisor's going to insist I do with the chopsticks, except by the time she actually spoke a whole sentence, time had ended and the universe shrivelled up into a black-raisiney thing, which I suppose is good, because otherwise I would have stomped her foot and shoved her into the den of rabid rug bears--you know, the little small ones that hide in shag carpet?
So, not much else went on other than that, except I still don't have that card. Finally took a chance to lie down, but the butter that had been spread on the couch smelled like coconuts, and because of that, by the time I woke up it was three days from now. And if I'm not finished with my project to spin Weird Al Yankovic songs into threads of pure energy by yesterday two years ago, I'm going to end up with a overstuffed chair with no ducks to hide underneath it.
By the way, does anyone have the key for that quasar? I think I've locked myself in.