Every once in a great while, I will tell somebody “You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.”
…And then I’ll be sad, because they have no idea what I’m talking about.
I only gamble with my life, never my money.
The Mummy fandom on Tumblr is hella strong
What up mummy fandom I didn’t know existed! Loved this movie. Need to watch it again.
I quote “You’re on the wrong side of the river” constantly.
I’m going to grad school soon to be a librarian and I can’t wait to get drunk and quote all of Evy’s lines.
I’m an archaeology student and I recently re-watched this and the instant they made it clear that it was set in the 1920s I was completely cool with everything about it because archaeology in the 1920s was mostly drinking and blowing things up.
archaeology in the 1920s was mostly drinking and blowing things up
One of the contractors at work drove past my shack on a forklift yesterday, stopped, backed up to my window and said, “hey, do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”
My knee jerk response when asked this, even if it’s by a companionable dude old enough to be my dad, is to go, “uh, nah-” and then ramble uncomfortably until someone stops me-
-which is what I started to do, only to be cut off by Contractor saying, in an embarrassed rush, “some of the guys were asking me because you and I talk sometimes, but I didn’t want them to hit on you at work, so I told them that you Worship the Devil and would Hex them if they tried. I’m sorry.”
Which leaves me wheezing helplessly, trying to get my shit together, because this is honestly one of the nicest, most hysterical things I’ve ever heard someone say to me.
Oblivious to this, Contractor then follows up with, “and they were like ‘forreal??’ so I was like, ‘yeah, she’s probably a sadist, too, you can tell by her jewelry. She’ll stab you or something.’”
And tbh I can’t even come up with anything witty to say in response, so all I manage to choke out is, “pleASE LET THEM CONTINUE TO THINK THAT, I’M BEGGING YOU.”
And Contractor just smiles and is like, “Okay! I just wanted to let you know!” before driving off with his forklift.
Like?? Thank god for Contractor tbh. He’s an angel among men, and I hope the rest of his life is filled with prosperity and happiness and like, that he finds $20 on the ground every week for the rest of his life.
Update: Every time Contractor sees me, he does a little Devil Horns gesture at me and its adorable.
Update the Second: I saw Contractor while doing my tour and he told me that the guy that asked if I was single was around, and that if I saw him, I should just make complicated hand gestures at him while I walk by to scare him off.
Storytime. Cooking in a different country makes you realize how many things you take for granted are just, Not A Thing Here. Like apple juice. Surely you can find apple juice at your local Athenian grocery store, right? Wrong. Greeks drink orange juice and peach juice and mixed fruit juice and sour cherry juice, but… plain old apple juice, nope, not so much. You’ll have a hard time finding vanilla extract in Greece too, since Greeks are used to vanilla powder in little plastic capsules and you have to go to specialty shops for the liquid stuff. Sour cream is virtually nonexistent here (but hey, it’s the land of yogurt, which is a good enough substitute). But surprisingly cornmeal (which is a specialty ingredient in the UK) is everywhere, since Greeks have their own versions of cornbread and corn pudding.
So basically: I knew it might be impossible find vegetable shortening (aka Crisco) for my Thanksgiving pie crust here in Athens. Crisco is pretty uniquely American, and Greeks are more likely to use phyllo than shortcrust anyway. That said, there are a handful of specialty shops in central Athens that sell things like Heinz baked beans and custard powder and Worcestershire sauce and other Weird Foreign Foods™ so us Sad Homesick Expats don’t have to go hungry (I’m always reminded of A Passage to India and their corned beef and tinned peas). So I went on Skroutz (the search engine for buying stuff in Greece) and typed in “vegetable shortening” to see if any stores carried it.
A notification came up asking me to confirm that I was over 18 years old?
???
I clicked “yes”??
Turns out there is, in fact, one shop in Athens that carries vegetable shortening. It’s a sex shop. The shortening is listed under “sex essentials”, as lube. For fisting. It’s literally called “βούτυρο για fisting” – “butter for fisting”.
I decided I didn’t need a flaky pie crust that badly.
So I was outside watering the mums in front of the shop and I see this little dude flapping his wings against the window.
… from the inside.
And I’m like, okay… that’s not where you’re supposed to be. So I went back in and apparently he’s been hanging out in the front half of the shop for the past two days- which is kind of cool from our perspective but when your adult life span is only four weeks it sucks big time. He rode in on a customer and has been stuck there, trying to get out.
Like he’s a psychopomp, he’s got a busy schedule. Ain’t got time to stop and hang around with the living.
So I get him to hop onto my hand and take him outside to set him free.
Just as I’m giving him the gentle loft into the October air, a woman comes up to me and asks for directions to the CVS.
“Uhhh… yeah, you take Morse Crossing to Morse,” I said, pointing with my hand, currently adorned with butterfly. “And then you take a left and its a couple miles down on your left.”
“I’m sorry, I take a…”
“Take a right out of here ‘till you get to Morse, take a left, and it’ll be on your left off of Cleveland.” The monarch is crawling up my arm, not getting the hint.
The woman is… distracted. “Is that… a real butterfly?”
“Yeah, he’s not getting the hint that he’s supposed to fly south,” I said.
Then, as if being reminded that it’s migration season, he launches himself from my wrist and takes off flying towards her face. She ducks, and then runs.
I shrugged to myself and went back to watering the mums. A few minutes later, I just see this blur of orange when the butterfly decides to come back, latches onto my hoodie and starts crawling around. I had to physically detach him from me and set him down on one of our big pots of mums.
Because apparently he’d rather hang around with weird humans instead of eat actual food.
But anyhow, he takes a pretty picture.
Weirdo.
That woman is pretty sure she got directions from an actual fae
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