Hobsonphile

This morning, I woke up and threw up for no reason. Now I feel better. Weird.

I have a tiny crush on James Lileks. He's a sci fi geek too! *g* Which is not to say that I will ever in a million years intrude upon scenes of domestic bliss like this:

But the foggy weather is hell on cheroots – leave them outside and they droop in your hands like Play-Doh. But they don’t taste like Play-Doh. I know this from recent experience; Gnat made a Play-Doh cookie for me, and I thanked her, examined it, bit off a chunk and pretended to swallow. Her expression was priceless, and rivaled her slack-jawed amazement that followed when the dog-food bag popped open on the conveyor at Target and I popped a nugget in my mouth. DADDEE! THAT’S FOR DOGS!

Tastes gooood, I said. Maybe we’ll have it for dinner.

Noooo!

With monkey brains!

NOOOOO!

And snake butt for dessert!

NOOOOOOOOO!

All a plot to make her cheer with relief when I served salmon, but it didn’t work.

So. Much. Love.

I do worry, though, that his daughter, when she reaches That Certain Age, will hate him for preserving all the embarassing little details of her early childhood on the internet. *g* I enjoy it, though, as do, I'm sure, many of his readers.

ETA a disclaimer: Lileks swings right in his politics, but I think even the left wing side of my f-list might find his commentary on movies, television, architecture and other matters of aesthetics of interest.