Little Green Men.

Frantically trying to finish a second mitten in a pair (the main body, anyway) tonight. I had to rebuild part of the pattern myself to customise it and they have to be finished, blocked, and dry before Sunday’s staff Christmas party. It’s pretty typical to overextend myself on these things – I make things because it is cheaper financially, but they ended up taking twice as long as I think they will to finish, so the value of DIY ends up in the shitter. Merry Christmas!

In preparation for going to a (free) screening of The Force Awakens on Friday morning, we watched the Despecialised edition of A New Hope on Friday night and mentioned to R. that one of my favourite things about the whole original trilogy is Yoda’s butt. It’s just adorable. And Yoda is such a brat that that scene makes me very happy.

R’s watching Empire Strikes Back tonight and I am wicked jealous.

Tiny green butts.

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Cliffs.

Why hello! You may have noticed that I fell off the blogging map for four days, turning Holidailies into Holimaybes! HA HA HA.

Ugh.

Truth is, I was working like mad last week, including Saturday, sat in front of a computer for 9 or 10 hours a day, trying my damnedest to get a grip on picas and points and my boss’s idiosyncratic guidelines, and when I got home, my brain would just shut down. I spent nearly all of Sunday doing the dance of knitting/staring into space/despairing about not-done Christmas prep/worrying myself into a migraine/knitting more because it counts as Christmas prep and is more fun that vacuuming.

I’ve also largely been off social media because almost everyone is getting on my nerves. I shut off ‘Shut up‘ on a few sites and regretted it almost instantly. Whatever those poor bastards who moderate comments on news websites get paid, it is not enough. It’s probably about 3% of enough.

In my eventual, mostly benevolent dictatorship, people should have to buy a fucking stamp to express their opinion on a newspaper or other media outlet’s website.

Should I crowbar in a fact? Sure.

The oldest, still-published newspaper in the world is Post- och Inrikes Tidningar, originally printed as Ordinari Post Tijdender, which dates back to 1645 when it was an official mouthpiece of Queen Christina. It isn’t where you find out about Kardashians or recipes for trifle; it seems to be a bit Hansard-y, but with public and corporate and legal announcements too.

Since 2007, only one copy of each issue is actually printed; the rest is online only.

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Anachronisms.

Welp, I have a handful of minutes to get a fact-filled post up. While standing by my bike, outside, on my phone.

Fargo is a good show, with bits that are less cool because I am jerk? Caught up on the last two episodes tonight and was most disturbed by the presence of a coffeemaker like this in a hotel room in 1979. Nyuh uh, no way.

Automatic drip coffeemakers in 1979 looked like this dammit and weren’t found in every motel room in South Dakota, dammit. DON’T LIE TO ME ABOUT COFFEE, HAWLEY.

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Sugar rushes.

Part of my #glamorousshowbizlife managing an independent cinema involves spending the company’s money on mountains of chocolate and other sundries.

Because my car is not working all that well, lately, and as I’ve been wavering on the fixing vs. buying vs. not having a car thing for, like, two months (the new roof took priority) I’ve been doing this by bike. This isn’t ideal, because it limits how much I can buy at a time because my shopping panniers are a) not great and b) not really actually that big. One of those black Green bags from Loblaws can hold about 50% more than one of them. Last go around, I had to dump two boxes of 24 packs of Twizzlers and fit them around the other stuff in my backpack because the cardboard was taking up too much space.

So today I opted to go by bus, three giant Loblaws bags in tow. I missed the two helpful-to-get-to-the-cash-&-carry place ones at the same time (both were minutes early, my transit app didn’t warn me, and I was on the other side of the (very busy) road), so I took the next bus, which doesn’t actually go THAT near, and walked about twelve blocks.

And fucked things up there too. Thought I bought peanut Glosettes, no, I didn’t, just endless boxes of raisins. I didn’t realise we were perilously low on peanut butter cups (fun fact: these come in threes by default in Canada, SUCK IT). And I should have bought some more damned Twizzlers (I had space for those if I dumped them out of their boxes and into my shoulder bag).

At least it all fit in my bags. And I managed to lug them to the bus stop in time to catch a direct-to-work vehicle AND got a seat. And I’ve heard that carrying heavy things is one of the fastest ways to get in shape. But man, I have to do this again ASAP and I don’t wanna.

Maybe I’ll try by bike tomorrow.

Today’s kinda facts: Glosettes, for those not in the know, are an EXCLUSIVE TO CANADA thing (and the first autofill Google offers is ‘Glosettes gluten-free’, smh). To the furriners, they are a beloved, especially by old people, aka the bulk of our clientele, chocolate covered snack (raisins or peanuts). In my experience here, French-Canadians are especially fond, but I’m not sure if that’s a universal truth, and if someone asks for ‘Des Glos’, they almost definitely mean the raisins.

This got me wondering about other exclusive-to-Canada deliciousness, but beyond Vachon cakes (they are, like, the Hostess/Little Debbie’s/Tasty Kake of Canada, sorta, but, traditionally, with more lard), and Laura Secord candy (which is like the Canadian version of Fannie May, but older/better), Coffee Crisp bars, commercial, in-Canada-only sweet treats are not that common.

And yet Iceland has a ton of local candy? (Kropps are great, BTW). Maybe I’ll fire up Google translate and try to make sense of whether they are exclusives to the island.

Also, I remember this commercial, there again proving that I absorbed a lot of shit at age 4 that will never be forgotten. I wish it had left room for Physics and the ability to remember to return library books.

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