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I've been having a bit of a hard time emotionally over the past ~week -- it's not that there's any one thing that's been stressing me out other than the obvious big introvert hell party, which was hard but I did it -- it's just that I've been in need of downtime with someone where we're mutually allowed to just lean on each other and read our separate books or whatever. This is one of the problems with having a lot of your close connections via internet, because while you have a good many people who would fit that description if they were local, a lot of them are not local.
The Renaissance Man, Keeper of the One True Shade of Purple, who shall be called Purple for short for at least a while, has started in on FEED. He has had a few entertaining questions.
It turns out that when you do your job to the anticipatory extent that you're capable of (if you're me), people may think you're sort of a wizard or something. The novelty of the doorbell has worn off a little for Madam Standards.
It also turns out that apparently ( disturbing, genital-involved mental image ) is a disturbing mental image. Welcome to #adventuresofstnono, pull up a beanbag. I really don't like the guy who inspired me to this mental image, which is why I'm having nothing to do with him; one semi-public failure to contain the green rage-monster was enough. (Poison. Ivy.)
I ordered a finger-slicer. It came today. I sliced potatoes, and only a bit of my thumb. Benriner has my brand loyalty. The secret is in the sharpness, I think. Mmm, potatoes.
Since my schedule is so out of sync with so many other people's, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts again. Yay podcastery.
The Renaissance Man, Keeper of the One True Shade of Purple, who shall be called Purple for short for at least a while, has started in on FEED. He has had a few entertaining questions.
It turns out that when you do your job to the anticipatory extent that you're capable of (if you're me), people may think you're sort of a wizard or something. The novelty of the doorbell has worn off a little for Madam Standards.
It also turns out that apparently ( disturbing, genital-involved mental image ) is a disturbing mental image. Welcome to #adventuresofstnono, pull up a beanbag. I really don't like the guy who inspired me to this mental image, which is why I'm having nothing to do with him; one semi-public failure to contain the green rage-monster was enough. (Poison. Ivy.)
I ordered a finger-slicer. It came today. I sliced potatoes, and only a bit of my thumb. Benriner has my brand loyalty. The secret is in the sharpness, I think. Mmm, potatoes.
Since my schedule is so out of sync with so many other people's, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts again. Yay podcastery.
