FIRST, a response to a comment on last week’s blog entry. Let me say, Cakeburnett, I appreciate your deep desire to NOT end a sentence in a preposition, especially one about my tiny dog. That is something up with which she will not put.
Ansley is a grammar Nazi, and if you muck about with THE QUEEN’S ENGLISH she gets upset and nibbles holes in my sheets. (True fact.) Just last week, someone split an infinitive in her presence, and she pooped in the guest room. SO, for you! The proper way to write the sentence would be:
“I myself do verily owneth a rug formed exactingly thussish, as thine rug upon which yonder Ansley is be-sitting.”
You are welcome.
With my eyes I want to see the books in this picture. I want to see these books preferably word by word, beginning with the top, leftmost word on page one, moving down line by line left to right, flipping the pages until I have seen ALL the words, ending with the far right word on the last page.
These look like books that, between them, will hit all the weird nooks and deepest crannies in my brain’s pleasure center. One book may lack taxidermied mice, for example, but it will make it up to me by paying out a failed utopia in spades. I suspect both books will feature dirty hippies at some point. SO! I will look at these books with my eyes, one after another, or perhaps concurrently. Then I will be happy.
I also want to put this movie in my eyes and also ears:
I also want disc 4 in this TV series, MAIL IT NETFLIX, MAIL LIKE THE WIND, because I love Peter Dinklage a wrongful amount, and also Borimir, and also, okay look, this series is what Scott and I call pRon because I think pRon is ANYTHING gratuitous and oooooh but there is some SUPER gratuitous throat slitting and head lopping and gouty splashing of unbridled bloods, and also gratuitous decorative naked ladies sprouncing about tra la tra la whoops my boobages seemed to have escaped me bodice TEE HEE, these ladies say, for no reason other than to titillate BUT
THANK YOU Game of Thrones for letting them all be real actual human boobies instead of fake ones. THANK YOU. Please keep this NO FAKE HOOTERS stance in your fantasy medieval landscape where there are NO plastic surgeons. I do not want my suspension of disbelief to be SO violated that I have to say to myself, SELF, I have to say, I am SURE that brothel inmate has SORCELLED herself up those bolt-ons by visiting the great booby-dragon-shrine. Anyway, I want to see the next eps, blood and boobs and all, with my eyes. NOW:
HI! I AM WRITING A BOOK. IT IS MAKING ME INSANE. Can you tell?
FAIRIES should send me the Jenny Lawson book IMMEDIATELY, because the dern thing is refusing to be released for, like, 2 more weeks or something stupid. Stupid TIME. STUPID fairies.
Pls remit sedatives.