In the closet. With a flute.

Today I learned that you can only fit about 4 relatively large latex helium balloons in one of those zip-up blue tarp duffel bags from IKEA. The cluster of balloons associated with a certain glad-you're-back cheerful bunch of flowers destined for the desk of a certain Overlady contained 5 balloons.

Now picture the Reverend Lunatic, wearing black from top to toe with the exception of a blue-tipped braid and a navy-blue cane, a classic sufferer of Bitchy Resting Face, carrying a very large blue IKEA zipper bag as if it weighed approximately nothing, with a single cheerful balloon rising from a ribbon coming out the middle where the two ends of the zipper meet.

I'd like you to picture that very hard, because it's likely that no such thing will ever happen again.

(Well, until the next time I need to transport balloons and the trunk is full.)



[00:48] azurelunatic: Today Outlook began giving me shitfits
[00:49] azurelunatic: it decided that email from my junior researcher and manager was spam, and that I didn't need to view headers
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: yow
[00:49] [unnamed work friend]: I thought our spam filter was separate from [the previous thing]/exchange
[00:49] azurelunatic: it is!
[00:50] azurelunatic: But that didn't stop plucky little outlook from deciding to apply its own
[00:50] azurelunatic: which was set on default of "no, really, this shouldn't catch any actual mail"
[00:50] azurelunatic: WELP
[00:51] azurelunatic: I complained to poor [Purple] about this.
[00:51] azurelunatic: His commentary was along the lines of "You missed a 'fucking' there, before 'default'."
[00:52] azurelunatic: (the paragraph already contained "fucking" about six times, so I could be forgiven for not typing it again)


Later, Purple made a cognitive leap [editor's note: apparently the concept of "cognitive leap" tied to Jack-in-the-Crack ranch sauce is a deja-vu anchor point for me] from the mention of a fairly arbitrary number in the 70s to trombones. "But there were 76 trombones," I said. "Where did the [difference] end up?"

"In the closet?" he guessed. "With a flute?"

I began facepalming steadily. Scotty, late of Much Ado About Star Trek, plays the trombone. If he were to be caught in the closet with anybody...

I indicated that it was possible that more than one character from my 1994 novel, the one that started when my friend "Bugs" (the one who had drummed on my head) tried to set up the cute little nerd girl with the cute little nerd boy because they both liked Star Trek, might be invading my ~2004 novel, and that in the original, Scotty had had a certain problem with gayness, particularly the idea that his BFF Jeff might be gay for him. His BFF Jeff who might well have played the flute. "HOW MANY CHARACTERS FROM THIS THING ARE GOING TO START INVADING?!?!" I asked.

"So you'd say they're getting the band back together?" Purple said. "Just think of the repercussions," he threw in as an afterthought.

My mouth opened. My mouth closed. My mouth went sideways. No words came out.

Apparently that was the most bizarre expression he'd seen on me to date. "What did I say? 'Getting the band back together'? What? You've poked me so many times that if this were on Facebook I'd have been hit with a sheep by now."

"Repercussions," I finally managed.

He hadn't even realized it.

Honorable sentients: my friend Purple.

Tumblr post (this is likely a reblog, and may have more pictures over there)

Posted in full at: http://ift.tt/1nWPZlM at March 25, 2014 at 04:30AM
copperbadge: Oh man Bobby you better hope Johnny Storm doesn’t...
copperbadge:

Oh man Bobby you better hope Johnny Storm doesn’t find out about this.

The other night I put a question to a group of nerds, asking who would win in a fight over Peter Parker, Bobby Drake or Johnny Storm.

We determined that in order to properly answer the question you’d need to know if Bobby’s ice powers involve the manipulation of temperature (meaning he could freeze other liquids and gases) or the manipulation of water to be cold, plus how cold Bobby could get and how hot Johnny’s flame could burn (as at a certain temperature water breaks down to hydrogen and oxygen which can actually fuel a flame instead of dousing it). There is also of course the question of endurance and strength outside of powers, because Johnny probably works out less but Bobby is kind of tiny.

There was some speculation that Bobby could produce some sort of super compressed solid oxygen which would flame Johnny out really fast (ala the infamous Barbecue Experiment) and cause him to pass out, but that the effort would cause Bobby to pass out as well, leaving Peter as the only remaining conscious superhero to draw pictures on their face in sharpie and take photos to share on instagram.

So in a fight between Iceman and Human Torch for the affections of Peter Parker, Peter Parker would be the winner.

[From Superior Spider-man Team Up Special #1, 2014.]

My tweets

• Tue, 00:01: My fitbit #Fitstats for 3/24/2014: 9,163 steps and 3.9 miles traveled. http://t.co/gFMrr7qBz6
• Tue, 00:41: Characters from my 1994!novel are invading 2004!novel. First the trombonist. Now apparently the flute-guy. Purple: "...the repercussions..."
• Tue, 00:43: I stared at Purple, unable to speak. Purple: "That's the most bizarre expression I've seen on your face to date." HE DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE.
• Tue, 00:45: If I were a seahorse, I would ask this man if he wanted to bear my children. THE REPERCUSSIONS. (The drummer may be next, just watch.)
• Tue, 11:37: #InconvenientSuperpower: dressing for tomorrow's weather.