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My parents have returned from Spain, which means that all domestic emergencies are no longer solely my responsibility! They bought me some lovely painted porcelain earrings and a tiny bottle of Baileys (my family is VERY MUCH IN FAVOUR of duty free booze) which means that I am sitting here drinking hot chocolate with Baileys in it. It is so good. It is obscenely good. It is like a happy little orgasm in my mouth.
Upon reflection this does not seem like enough to hold up an entire LJ entry on its own, but if I think of anything else equally thrilling and innuendo-ridden I will edit the damn post.
ETA: Aha! Extra post-fodder has presented itself as if by Fate. Or by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_grynne.
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 4-7 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest (unless it's too troublesome to reach and is really heavy. Then go back to step 1).
6. Tag five people.
The nearest book is Graham Greene's The End of the Affair, which is a terrifying and brilliant and horrible and very clever book.
His articles were bound in papers, but my books were bound in cloth. She knew she could learn more from me. And yet, poor devil, he had the nerve to snub her when she occasionally made a simple human unintellectual comment. I wanted to warn him of the empty future, but instead I took another glass and said, "I can't stay very long. I have to go to a funeral in Golders Green."
"A funeral in Golders Green," Waterbury exclaimed. "How like one of your own characters. It would have to be Golders Green, wouldn't it?"
Tagging:schiarire, copinggoggles, nextian, _leareth and liminalliz.
Upon reflection this does not seem like enough to hold up an entire LJ entry on its own, but if I think of anything else equally thrilling and innuendo-ridden I will edit the damn post.
ETA: Aha! Extra post-fodder has presented itself as if by Fate. Or by
the_grynne.1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 4-7 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest (unless it's too troublesome to reach and is really heavy. Then go back to step 1).
6. Tag five people.
The nearest book is Graham Greene's The End of the Affair, which is a terrifying and brilliant and horrible and very clever book.
His articles were bound in papers, but my books were bound in cloth. She knew she could learn more from me. And yet, poor devil, he had the nerve to snub her when she occasionally made a simple human unintellectual comment. I wanted to warn him of the empty future, but instead I took another glass and said, "I can't stay very long. I have to go to a funeral in Golders Green."
"A funeral in Golders Green," Waterbury exclaimed. "How like one of your own characters. It would have to be Golders Green, wouldn't it?"
Tagging:
schiarire, copinggoggles, nextian, _leareth and liminalliz.
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When we arrived, we climbed up a little bridge, and then I pulled the sodium out of its oil with tongs and flung it into the water beneath. It took fire instantly and sped around and around on the surface like a demented meteor, with a huge sheet of yellow flame above it. We all exulted -- this was chemistry with a vengeance!
There were other other members of the alkali metal family even more reactive than sodium and potassium, metals like rubidium and cesium (there was also the lightest and least reactive, lithium). It was fascinating to compare the reactions of all five by putting small lumps of each into water.
-- Oliver Sacks, Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood
*does not want to put in own LJ especially.*
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Uncle Tungsten is weird, because I like chemistry -500, but I like Oliver Sacks + UNIMAGINABLE AMOUNTS, so it comes out surprisingly positive.
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Which means that when I say goodbye to Julie in the morning, I get one of two responses. Either
a)A Saturday Night Fever hand twirl and accompanying arm thurst
Or
b)A Fonzie-like "aaaaayyyyyy."
The John Travolta reference I understand, but the Fonzie one stumped me.
"In the first season Fonzie wore white because black leather was considered too menacing," Julie explained. (This is a woman who still has her childhood collection of TV Guides).
Personally, I prefer to think of myself in a more highbrow mold -- a Biblical version of Tom Wolfe. Or perhaps a modern Emily Dickinson, who became a recluse in the 1860s and refused to wear anything but white.
--The Year of Living Biblically, by A.J. Jacobs
One of our finds at ALA, it comes out this fall
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