Things I did today: use the official @NPRBooks Twitter account to tell Neil Gaiman about the original Black Orchids I borrowed (either from A. or artnouveauho) in high school and never returned.

NEIL GAIMAN THINKS I AM COOL, YO.

Also, whoever I borrowed those from is NEVER getting them back.

Tonight I inveigled my friends M. and R. into turning our scheduled Game of Thrones catchup session into an impromptu Monkees marathon, having finally caved and bought both seasons on DVD in memory of Davy. Who wasn't even my favorite Monkee.

M. had never seen a full episodes, and like many people I've inflicted this band on in the past, she got sucked in despite a cultural predisposition to dismiss the Prefab Four. And even I, after all these years, was surprised to see that the show really does hold up, especially now that I'm in a position to pick out all the cultural influences-- obviously, Hard Day's Night but also the anarchic visual humor of the Marx Brothers, and a country-rock sound half a decade ahead of popular tastes.

Personally, I wish Jann Wenner would pull his head out of his ass and let 'em into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (it's not like he's such a brilliant arbiter of taste... I mean, I subscribe to Rolling Stone for the journalism, and not for their amazing ability to find new reasons every month to feature the crustiest of aging classic rock acts. And occasionally Bruce Springsteen). Yes, they were put together by a studio, teenage rebellion packaged, processed and marketed back to teenagers, rock and roll neutered and declawed for John Q. Public's Monday night living room. Get THE FUCK over it. How many major acts of the era didn't play or write their own songs? Motown, I'm looking at you. Brill Building, I'm looking at you.

They'd be worth paying attention to even if they hadn't eventually rebelled and become a real band, just for the craftsmanship that went into the original product.

Also, phwoooaaarrrr:



But Mike's still a prick.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I furthermore present my dad, in his Brigadier outfit. The awesomeness, it is barely contained!

Not content with last year's Dalek cake decorations, this year my mom has decreed that we shall have a Who-themed COSTUME PARTY for my cousin's 30th. She originally interpreted this as "dress like anyone the Doctor could conceivably have met during his travels" and was very annoyed at me for pointing out that as far as I know, he's never been to Turkey,* so the hours she spent at the garden store picking out just the right gold flowerpot to wear on her head were probably in vain. Despite fezzes being cool. But hey, when you ask a nitpicking nerd for costume advice, YOU'RE GONNA GET SOME GODDAMN COSTUME ADVICE.

Ultimately, I convinced her to stick some feathers on it and turn it into an Aztec-goddess style headdress, a la Barbara in "The Aztecs." And my dad, OF COURSE, will be the Brig. He already has the sweater and the faintly bemused military bearing; I've got him a UNIT patch and taught him to say "five rounds rapid," and it's gonna be PERFECT.

As for me, I'm going to bust out the awesome black and silver outfit that artnouveauho made and pretend I'm lurking around the corners of Louis XIV's court trying to avoid clockwork men.

* At least, he's never been to Turkey on the show. I'm sure that somewhere in the vast Whoniverse of books and audio plays, there's something that'll prove me wrong. tubewhore, over to you!

I've been killing myself for THREE WEEKS on this piece, but it finally came together. Whee! Have a listen, if it is your will: The Snowy Day: Breaking Color Barriers, Quietly.

It's snowing! Well, wintry mix anyhow, a DC area specialty which sounds like it ought to be in a candy dish and include peppermints, rather than slush and spun-out taxis.

I think I've talked before here about stupid pop songs and mental movies-- driving home tonight, I had a sudden intense desire to hear "What Am I Gonna Do With You, Baby," an obscure Lesley Gore single. There's just something about the shimmery, sleigh-belled production that screams "SNOW" to me, or at least fake snow around the trunks of white birch trees adorned with silver paper stars. Weirdly specific, I know.

So, guess what popped up on the iPod?



Bonus trivia: Lesley Gore grew up a few blocks from my dad in Teaneck, New Jersey, and used to sing at neighborhood parties.

Guess who scored DVDs of Blackpool and Takin' Over the Asylum (plus Season 2 of the UK Shameless!) in the Leicester Square HMV, and is also getting a region-free DVD player for Chrismukkah?

Oohhhh yeaaaahhhh-- fangirlin' ahoy!

In other news, thanks as always to the singular, the amazing artnouveauho for a brilliant two weeks in my future home city... and the less said about the Fat Slags DVD I also have around here somewhere, probably the better.

Ohgodohgodohgod, two more hours and I'm officially ON VACATION!! This time tomorrow I'll be on a plane heading for London and the annual Thanksgiving Blowout, Birthday Pilgrimage, and David Tennant Stalking Safari. Cannot wait to cook Thanksgiving dinner in artnouveauho's brand new kitchen!

But for now, I'm sitting at work, using Google Docs to write up my packing list. Which in a weird way is one of the most fun parts of the trip. Everything is still just potential, and I'm tweaking and fiddling and organizing that potential for MAXIMUM AWESOMENESS.

If anyone wants to reach me in the next two weeks, I'll be around online and I'll also have my British sim card: +44 7538 097 014. Pip pip, cheerio!

*Edited for correct phone number. Durrr!*

Got this email a few days ago:

Hey Petra,

I'm writing to let you know that I just sold Speedy yesterday. After 6 years, it was time to let go. She was a wonderful car, but over the past two years, she has cost more than her value, each year, in repairs and the lack of air conditioning these past two summers was REALLY bumming me out... so, I decided sell her. I think she will live on with her new owner, however -as she still runs well: she just needs new tires, a new exhaust and a number of other little things... and it actually turned out to be cheaper for me to sell her and buy a used Honda accord in good condition, than it would have been to repair her. I hope things are going well with you. Take care.

-Patrick

Wow. I had no idea the old girl was even still on the road; I hadn't seen her in her usual haunts for a few years. But apparently our beloved Lime is still speeding with a THIRD owner in only seventeen years. Damn I miss that car.

...so, who thinks I should track down the current owner, buy her back, and turn her into an art car?

This mysterious vintage phone booth has been sitting, mummified in plastic, in the P2 parking lobby at work for months now. I am increasingly convinced it's a TARDIS.



...so, if, you know, I mysteriously disappear some day, and a few months later someone notices that old phone booth isn't there anymore, y'all know what to think.

Tangentially, I know that "vworp" is the canonical TARDIS noise, but I've always thought that wasn't quite it. I think it's more like a "kkksssshhhrrreeeeooowwwww."

Damn. Now I want to see the Doctor and the TARDIS rendered in German Disney comic book style, with all the awesome sound effects like "SCHNIPS-S-S-S-S" and "SCHNORCH! SCHNURCH!" and holy shit, the exact German Disney comic book I had as a kid is online now on some skeezy free download site! I love the Internets. Also, Scrooge McDuck in German is Onkel Dagobert, which is just ALL KINDS OF AWESOME.