Holiday Cthulhu Post
We're headed into a season of Holiday Parties the likes of which we have never seen -- I blame the house, actually. Bear's Retreat is a bossy place, let me tell you -- it drags in the owners it wants; it demands respect in the form of picking up after oneself (who knew! was this in the contract?); and it LOVES visitors and likes not to be alone -- and so now we have guests, and parties, and who knows what all, and then we have to go places, too. Oh, there's no end to this. Apparently it requires a bunch of cookies, too. Luckily, we have the Excellent Kitchen.
To my surprise, I'm not feeling stressed or rushed about the upcoming weeks -- though we can see how long this lasts. No, I'm cheerful and happy, and looking forward to the hoopla.
It's a good thing, by the way, that, since the house is so bossy, it's not one of those Lovecraftian Hellholes with nasty things from beyond time hiding out in the attic. Nope, just squirrels. Though, for those of you who are interested in such things, there's a lovely and meaningful Cthulhu wristband for sale, which you may acquire and wear daily, in order to raise awareness about the Return of The Old Ones. Graduate students, I expect to see some of these around the office next semester (You know who you are. Yeah. You, the one with the fluffy bunny stuffed Cthulhu on your desk. Also. You! The one doing a dissertation on Lovecraft! Surely you need to advertise your allegiance!).
Of course, for those of you who are drawn not to the Return of the Old Ones, but to the Return of the Slightly Younger One, there's an excellent piece of art out there which you can buy someplace -- I don't know where and I'm not going to go look, but I bet if you Google you can get one -- which depicts Jesus being astonished and dismayed to find that he has, in a moment of inattention, run over Thomas Kinkade.
Or, if you're not interested, this morning, in any sort of theological/artistic debate, but simply want to read An Hilarious Story, then you can go here. You may then debate, in the comments section, as to whether the couple in Scott's office actually have any basis for a sexual harassment case against him. I think not. But just in case, I'm going to keep my office door locked, when I'm out.
I'm home for the weekend, though, so it anybody has broken into my office in order to have sex, I don't know about it (and hope I never do). It's baking day. All baking, all the time. Cause you have to feed all those visitors something, and you have to give all your hosts something, and you have to stick the Beloved Traditional Goodies of Your People in the mail pretty soon, and Lord knows, if the Old Ones show up, you want to be ready.
I hear Cthulhu's partial to fruitcake.
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Why, by the way, did the spellcheck function think I should replace "fruitcake" with "britches"? Why? Why? Why?
To my surprise, I'm not feeling stressed or rushed about the upcoming weeks -- though we can see how long this lasts. No, I'm cheerful and happy, and looking forward to the hoopla.
It's a good thing, by the way, that, since the house is so bossy, it's not one of those Lovecraftian Hellholes with nasty things from beyond time hiding out in the attic. Nope, just squirrels. Though, for those of you who are interested in such things, there's a lovely and meaningful Cthulhu wristband for sale, which you may acquire and wear daily, in order to raise awareness about the Return of The Old Ones. Graduate students, I expect to see some of these around the office next semester (You know who you are. Yeah. You, the one with the fluffy bunny stuffed Cthulhu on your desk. Also. You! The one doing a dissertation on Lovecraft! Surely you need to advertise your allegiance!).
Of course, for those of you who are drawn not to the Return of the Old Ones, but to the Return of the Slightly Younger One, there's an excellent piece of art out there which you can buy someplace -- I don't know where and I'm not going to go look, but I bet if you Google you can get one -- which depicts Jesus being astonished and dismayed to find that he has, in a moment of inattention, run over Thomas Kinkade.
Or, if you're not interested, this morning, in any sort of theological/artistic debate, but simply want to read An Hilarious Story, then you can go here. You may then debate, in the comments section, as to whether the couple in Scott's office actually have any basis for a sexual harassment case against him. I think not. But just in case, I'm going to keep my office door locked, when I'm out.
I'm home for the weekend, though, so it anybody has broken into my office in order to have sex, I don't know about it (and hope I never do). It's baking day. All baking, all the time. Cause you have to feed all those visitors something, and you have to give all your hosts something, and you have to stick the Beloved Traditional Goodies of Your People in the mail pretty soon, and Lord knows, if the Old Ones show up, you want to be ready.
I hear Cthulhu's partial to fruitcake.
**************************
Why, by the way, did the spellcheck function think I should replace "fruitcake" with "britches"? Why? Why? Why?
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