My only consolation, when Max finally rises up and enslaves us all, is that he knows Jack put the antlers on him and I was just an innocent bystander.



Happy Holidays, everyone.

Andy is being such a man today! He's personally supervising the shovel-bot and Android de-icer, not letting the System for House Inclement Weather (you thought I was going to say Technics, didn't you? Admit it!) do it.

Mind you, since we won Space Lotto (twice) we live on a tropical island on a planet we bought (for cash) and thus he first had to program in the snow. Which he did with his own lovely fingers. The view from our front viewscreen went from this



to this



overnight. Is he a genius, or what?

Where was I? Oh, yes, the shovel-bot and Android de-icer (who sprays suntan lotion on us and our visitors the rest of the time.) Once they've cleared a path so we can go outside if we want to, we shall remain inside and finish baking welshcakes and brewing up my special recipe for mulled space wine and then we'll get out to the Supercharged Handbag SUV and jet over to Jack and Ianto's (Jack's, most likely. He owns the house (with Ianto, but why quibble over technicalities?) Ianto owns the planet. Easier to clean up the house afterwards.) for the annual Grimmas Gathering. I believe Andy has squirreled away several prize bottles of Brains for the occasion.

Oh, there's the warning siren. The mulled space wine has reached optimum proof!

Yeah, so... Jack kept us all up late hollering for eggnog, but I still managed to make and ice some festive fairy cakes for later.

Okay. Right. I used Rhys's recipe. And he did the measuring part.  And the, er... mixing. And he made the icing. 

I did put the sprinkles on! Some of them. 

But the other good news is that Jack took the bricks off the twitter! So I can tweet now!   

last night i was knocking back a few buckets of pimms before my nightly ritual of pissing on assk's desk and then vomiting in the hub pool and all of the sudden the sensors here went fucking apeshit.

if you have never seen apeshit, go to the zoo and throw a small kid in the lion pit. it's fucking hysterical. it's also a waste of a good kid.

anyway, what the shit is this?

if it's headed here, it better have fucking eggnog. made from real noggins.

children's noggins. mmm. creamy gray matter.

It's a little late, I know, but I've been in the 53rd century. I can't keep track of your quaint 21st century time!

My sock puppet has a Cafe Press shop with some rather clever Ask!verse designs (courtesy of ask_aboutcoffee and his amazing friends. And the sock puppet has a few of her own in there.) All proceeds go to charity. If you would care to take a peak, you might find something for you or a loved one. Or a liked one.

Have a groovy holiday season!