Great, Now I Need a TARDIS

 

I know you want updates after last week’s cliffhanger, and I want to give them to you!  Things on the legal front are progressing in what I assume is the usual fashion for such matters: slowly.  (Legal professionals, back me up here)

 

Devil Wears Prada "By all means, move at a glacial pace"

Trying so hard not to get sharp with him over it.  Sharp probably costs more.

 

Things on the financial front are… have you ever seen a mammal that is not biologically designed to swim try to do so?  They don’t drown – at least, not right away – but there’s a lot of scrabbling around and desperate gasping and wide eyes looking for a magical escape route.  That’s me, but on the inside.  On the outside, things are fine, thankyouforasking.

 

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On Human Trapping (My Skyrim Valentine)

 

The fine art of entrapment may be verboten in the world of law enforcement, but I’m here to tell you that it’s a vital component if you expect your marriage to be at all humorous.  Sure, some people strive for peaceful, happy, harmonious, mutually beneficial marriages… but I think they must not understand what they’re missing.

 

boring family sits on couch, bored

 

If you’re sensing one of those posts where I ramble a bit, and have to jump back and forth to properly tell the story, congratulations on the paying attention thing!  But no, this time I’ve actually got my shit together, and there’s a point easily made.  Come along, readers – trust me.

 

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Not Pony Tails or Cotton Tails

 

Well, dear devoted followers, it is done.

 

Not Dishonored 2, I spent twenty goddamned hours trying to ghost my way through one mission (you’ll know it if you’ve been there) and then tried to peel my own face off when I saw my Final Stats screen reporting that two bodies had been found.  I am still debating whether to lodge a formal complaint about that, because it’s bullshit.  There’s no way any of those bodies were found.  No.  Fucking.  Way.  Someone would have had to have been moving furniture, and that’s just not a thing that underpaid guards who have muttered arguments with themselves over whether they know the whole alphabet do on their nightly rounds of a creepy-ass mansion.   Basically, if any of you happen to know someone at Bethesda, let them know that I’m looking for them, that I want answers, and that I know a good hiding spot with room for another twenty or thirty bodies, easy.

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The Third Pedal

 

Sometimes this thing happens where we spend waaay too much time on a topic, and have meandered around into a very weird place with it.  On these occasions, I have a decision to make: do I share the conversation with you, the people whom I want very much to like me more than you like anyone else, so that you will tell your friends about me (so that they can also love me, and share me… I’m basically going for a pyramid scheme of validation, here) and risk you discovering that we’re long-winded and bumbling conversationalists after all; or do I hold it inside and risk not having enough material to post anything at all, because I raised the bar so high I’d have to get one of those grabby things from the infomercial just to reach it?

 

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The Morning After

 

Happy Boxing day, one and all!

 

Some cursory bit of research has taught me that the traditions of this day include excellent tipping and more gifts, mostly of a charitable nature.  We, I’m sure, will get around to all of that just as soon as we wade through all of these empty boxes and stray bits of ribbon I keep finding.  Why is it no one around here can be arsed to clear their presents out from under the tree for days after Christmas?  We unwrap, then carefully stack them right back under the tree as if we’re not going to have to put them away at some point.

 

lazy

Yeah, that’s probably why.

 

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