Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

Well, we call it the ‘senior association’ these days, not the retiree club, otherwise people start feeling slighted.

I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be supposed mad, and this in itself would forever have chained my tongue.

"For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his wickedness."

... myself, in a nutshell. 🤔

... me experimenting with my book reviews. 😅

The truth about YA fiction. 🐺

... an ode to my continuously growing "current reads" pile🫣

Relieved, I set the cup aside. Outside, yes. The forest. I don't know why, but I feel like no room of flat surfaces and corners and angles fits what I want to know. Instead, trees and roots and that wind that catches you in the back if you turn just right and, without you having to do anything, nudges you forward a little with every gust.

"[It won't be] like way back when, sure, but a bit closer to what I'm used to. That would be really good. Because I like habits. Habits are like Maths. And both would always work the same way."

Harris had hockey cards shoved in the frame of his mirror. Even the bedside lamp had a Centaurs branded shade.
"I was a bit of a fan."
"I'm a little concerned. This feels like you might have lured me up here to add to your collection."

"You made me a latte?"
"I hope so. I've never used [the coffee maker] before."



Me, a tea-drinker, whenever I make coffee for someone. 😅

It certainly didn't change [Kai's] opinion on Blessed devices and how they seemed designed to wring the maximum discomfort out of anyone who used them. It explained why so many of the Immortal Blessed were so cranky.

"If you're pretending to be an Arike, remember you're an Arike woman."
"Oh right, I forgot." Dahin jammed his sun hat further down on his head as the wind tugged at it. "I'll pretend to be your wife, then."
Kai gave up on being angry. He put his arm around Dahin's shoulders and squeezed. "I would rather throw you into the sea than marry you."
"That's probably wise of you," Dahin admitted readily.

"Are you alright?"
She glanced down at him and admitted, "I am torn between the overwhelming desire for a hot bath and an anger so intense I could bite through my sword blade."
That was better. "If you bite any councillors, be sure to make it count."

The Last Present - ****
When The Deliveryman Twice Rings - **
To Hell With Santa Claus - *
The Great Present Giving - ****1/2
Heartwarming - ****
A Call to Aunt Hedwig - ***1/2
The Coat Of Silence - ***1/2
Brussel Sprouts - ***

A Whiff of Christmas - **
A Place For Everything And Everything In Its Place - **
Adele - ***
Have a Happy Advent - **
A Banger of a Weekend - ****
Star - ***1/2
Magical Green - ***1/2
Roller Death - **1/2
Spring Violet - **

... that was part of the genius of Babel. By keeping [the students] isolated, by distracting them with coursework so that they never had a chance to form bonds outside their cohort, it had cut off all avenues towards meaningful solidarity, had made them believe for so long that they were the only ones caught in their particular web.

They had assumed that Oxford might not betray them. Their dependence on Babel was ingrained, unconscious. On some level, they had still believed that the university, and their status as its scholars might protect them. They had assumed, in spite of every indication otherwise, that those with the most to gain from the Empire's continued expansion might find it within themselves to do the right thing.

"I don't understand," said Robin. "Why don't you just have them cook Cantonese dishes?"
"Because English cuisine reminds one of home," said Reverend Gützlaff. "One appreciates such creature comforts on faraway journeys."
"But it tastes like rubbish," said Ramy.
"And nothing could be more English," said Reverend Gützlaff, cutting vigorously into his grey meat.

Her distress belied a deeper terror, a terror which Robin felt as well, that Anthony had been expendable. That they were all expendable. That this tower - this place where they had for the first time found belonging - treasured and loved them when they were alive and useful but didn't, in fact, care about them at all. That they were, in the end, only vessels for the languages they spoke.

Why had they not paused to interrogate their differences in birth, in raising, that meant they were not and could never be on the same side?
But the answer was obvious -- that they were all four of them drowning in the unfamiliar, and they saw in each other a raft, and clinging to one another was the only way to stay afloat.

Svetlana covered her mouth with one hand, eyes still wide. He could tell she was smiling, though.
"Ilya," she finally said. "Holy shit."
"Yes."
She grinned wickedly at him. "Did you fuck every woman in Canada and had to move on to men?"

"How many dogs exactly?"
"Some. Maybe one, to start. And then he needs a friend, so two. Maybe they don't like each other we get number three to be, um..."
"A mediator?"
"Okay. Maybe, yes."
"And if they don't like that one?"
"The fourth dog will--"

"Is this the dock that you do yoga on?" he asked.
"No, I don't do yoga on here. This was just where the camera asked me to... wait. Did you watch that thing?"
"Yes. Was great. I needed help sleeping."

"You kids know who that guy is?" Ilya asked.
"Shane Hollander!" most of them said at once.
"Really?" Ilya said, feigning shock. "You've heard of that guy?"
They laughed. One of the braver ones said, "He's the best player in the league."
"Okay, you're out of the race. Out of the pool. Out of Florida. Goodbye. Where's your dad?"

Ilya took [the phone] and entered his number into Hollander's contacts, under the name Lily. Hollander snorted when he saw it.
"Who should I be?" he asked as he picked up Ilya's phone from the dresser. "Shannon?"
"Jane," Ilya said.
"Jesus Christ," Hollander muttered as he typed.
"No. Just Jane."

"Renate, you can't drink as long as [the minister] here is".
I was outraged. "What does that mean?!"
"You keep telling dirty jokes."
Ilse grinned.
"Let's go back in, I don't want to leave the minister and Kurt alone for so long. They started debating earlier wether Jesus was crucified or if the russians shot him."