Which actor on Buffy/Angel would make the best Doctor?
I’m going with Amber Benson as the Doctor and Alyson Hannigan as the Master. Benson has such a complex—vulnerable but clever—demeanor, and we know from Vampire Willow that Hannigan is delightful when evil.
I added the words “Chapter 8” to the bottom of my manuscript.
Surely, deciding it’s time for a chapter break counts as writing. I will reward myself with a peanut M&M.
Me: *complains about how popularity breeds more popularity*
Spouse: “It’s just like the scene you like from Sneakers.”
Me: “It’s such a good scene!”
Spouse: …
Me: …
Spouse: “Do you want to tell me what a good scene it is again? You look like you do.”
Me: “IT’S SO GOOD.”
“Intellectual property” is a terrible synonym for “idea” that would be laughable if it weren’t so damaging.
My cat, Hazel, knows she’s not supposed to attack people’s hands.
Attacking hands is her FAVORITE game. But she’s a good cat. She doesn’t do it.
HOWEVER, she’s quite sure the hands tucking in corners of the sheets on the bed don’t count.
Those are free range hands & fair game.
I really like the movie Cube 2: Hypercube, but I have trouble telling how much of that is because the movie has any merit itself and how much is just because I love hypercubes.
This movie review tweet brought to you by my brain which promised to chant it over and over again instead of letting me sleep if I didn’t post it.
I tried telling my brain, “You’re very clever, now go to sleep,” but it insisted the world needed to know my thoughts on Cube 2.
The line between too hot and too cold has been getting thinner and thinner as I’ve aged, to the point where the width of that line has finally achieved negative dimensions.
I can now be both too hot and too cold at the same time.
Things that can’t move until you stop looking:
—Buzz Lightyear
—Weeping angels
Buzz Lightyear is a weeping angel. QED.
My stomach is a confused bunny. My brain is an angry cat. My skin and muscles are a desperate octopus. My lungs are an incompetent spider. My bones are a tired giraffe. My teeth are a nervous crab.
I’m a whole zoo, seemingly undergoing some sort of indescribable catastrophe.
When I was a teen, I kept a white board by my bed where I could scrawl thoughts that struck me as I tried to fall asleep.
Now I keep a phone under my pillow where I can scrawl such thoughts… and share them with the whole world at the same time.
Teen me would’ve been delighted by the fact that I can essentially self-publish any clever thoughts I have immediately. No delay. No gatekeepers.
It’s easy to forget how much progress we’re making when we look at all the bad stuff still in the world.
But there is progress.