April 4th, 2008

ever after: danielle

Some Seriously Lacking Feng Sui

dustthouart post pictures of the inside of their church, and has a few words to say about it (click for explanatory picture):

That? That my friends, is the tabernacle. Yes, the resting place of Our Lord in the Most Blessed Sacrament.


Maybe this is purgatory for Sauron? Still doesn't explain why the tabernacle seems to depict an abstract tribute to the first lunar landing.

Improvise, adapt, and overcome

lupagreenwolf, on ubiquity's...inspired choice of implements:

People have this idea that a divination tool absolutely must be an uber-special, symbol-ridden, hyper-charged, crystals-in-every-orifice majikal objekt to work. You must wrap it in silk from virgin Bombyx mori pupae that has been dyed in the berries of Tibetan blackberries and blessed by Tibetan monks. And you must never, ever, ever let anyone ever even breathe on it lest it be contaminated by the nasty cooties of cowans, muggles, and other inferior sorts. And when you go to use it, you must utter the sacred words "Gort! Klaatu barada nikto! Goo goo g'joob!" while standing upon a massive pillar of--

Dammit. Hand me the Soap Onna Rope, would you?

Context played poker with a tarot deck once....

Felisdemens marks the beginning of "Ghastly Carcass" season......

For indoor cats, the patio offers a surprising array of godawful varmints to be savaged and left in improvident places about the house. Many is the half-eaten lizard and regurgitated garter snake that I happen across, and that's just the stuff I can identify. Also we have received several wee rodents that J insists on referring to as "GIANT RATS", as though we were shoveling frothing, Food Of the Gods-sized ROUS into the paper basket.

(He has this issue with the palmetto bugs, too. Many's the time I've heard falsetto shrieks of "EEEEYARAUGHHH! GIANT ROACH!" and leapt to his rescue only to find some inch-long waterbug spasming feebly in the sink.)

The Dingo, who has access to the outdoors, has resumed his depredations of the bird population, depositing various maladaptive specimens on the doorstep in exciting tableaux.

Although... His hunting, while servicable, isn't a wart on the fuzznuts of Spotty in his prime. The range and breadth of Spot's trophies was nothing short of awe-inspiring when he was a strapping, vital youth. I once saw him leap six feet or so into the air from a full couchant position to nail some hapless grackle on the wing. That shit was just amazing.

He's earned his right to be a malevolent old villain sleeping in the sun. Sort of like Cohen the Barbarian.

Context is QWP and lying in wait for its next unwary snack.
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Mistful contemplates editorial suicide by teapot......

Of course, when the editorial letter first arrives - oh God, it's a great big huge pile of work and she obviously hated your book after all and you are off to the garden. To eat worms.

Then, as your coping mechanism kicks in and you're sulkily munching on your worms, it occurs to you that she may have had a point about that one thing. And maybe you have an idea to fix it.

At this point the floodgates open and you realise how stupid you've been about so many things, oh so many things, and you rush back into the house and try to assassinate yourself with a teapot for the honour of your family.

Lying on your floor a little concussed, sanity returns. This isn't helping you edit your book. And you kind of need that teapot.

Context is QWP and knows action vampire rabbits are very hot right now.......
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