Things

1. My dohickey was clogged and some filter had to be replaced. Ugh.

2. People/not-people. Turns out the Catholic Church is flexible.

3. I wrote this thing.

4. I have some thoughts on Roy Herron, but I got up before the crack of dawn, so I am incoherent. But I wish I had $900,000 from the state.

5. Look, I have a search thing now! Down there.

Scandenavia, Why Must You Delight Me So?

Shall we count the ways? Excluding my favorite gods, we have

1. Trollhunter.

2. Jagannath.

3. First-aid Kit, especially their song about a werewolf.

and now 4. The Great Norway Goat Cheese Fire of ’13.

Let us count the ways this is fucking wonderful!

1. Who knew cheese could catch on fire?
2. It burned hot enough to destroy a tunnel.
3. 2/3 of the men in that story are named Viggo.
4. “Kjell Bjoern Vinje, of the Norwegian Public Roads Administration, said it was the first time he could remember cheese catching fire on Norwegian roads.”

So, yes, I’m a little bummed that none of the Skaarsgards showed up to glower at me in a sexy manner, but Norway, your goat cheese fire just about makes up for it. In your honor, I have just now added a Scandenavia category to the blog, in case the awesomeness continues.

It’s a Little Weird Around Here in the Morning

My mechanic doesn’t take appointments, so, if you want them to look at your car, you best be in there before seven in the morning. The only thing nice about driving into Nashville at 6:45 is just how beautiful it looks in the early dawn light. Blah. So, they then dropped me off here at work at 7:20.

The kids who go to school in the suite next to us (long story short, they’re high schoolers with developmental issues who go to school and work in the area) were standing in the hallway, and one of the kids was over in the corner, his back turned to me.

“I… have…. a… secret….” he mumbled. I pressed the button for the elevator, because, if I have learned on thing in my life, it’s that people who are doing creepy voices to themselves in a corner are never about to say something you want to hear.

“I… killed…” And now I am freaking right the fuck out. Should I get on the elevator? Should I wait and see who he killed so that I can tell the police? Am I standing next to a murderer or what?

“Mufasa.”

Mufasa?

“[mumble mumble] Simba!”

Oh, okay, The Lion King. Carry on.