*blear*

[slipjig3]

Late night last night, what with the regular SCA Wednesday night hoop-di-doo, this time at Asgar and Frigga's place. Homemade pizzas, one after the other, copious beverage-y stuff (nice to remind myself that I don't like beer), and good companionship. There's a three-year-old boy in that household who wields a dowel rod as long as he is like a pole-arm, and has better fighting form than I shall ever have. Wicked-scary, that kid.

So, yeah, late night last night, made all the later by my determination to get at least some of what I'd written at work on Ordinary Talismans typed up. And then an early morning for more of the same. Since when do I have a flippin' work ethic? What the hell is up with that, Morty? I demand a recount, to be undertaken while I'm sleeping.

On an unrelated note, I'm tickled to death to discover that the scientific term for the fear of long words is "sesquipedalophobia." Isn't that a little like checking to see if a leg is broken by whacking it with a Louisville slugger?

Patient: I'm a nervous wreck, Doc. What's wrong with me?
Therapist: Well, it seems you have sesquipedalophob—
Patient: AIEE! *throws self out of window*

Comments

[odheirre.livejournal.com]

On an unrelated note, I'm tickled to death to discover that the scientific term for the fear of long words is "sesquipedalophobia." Isn't that a little like checking to see if a leg is broken by whacking it with a Louisville slugger?

It's the same logic of "lisp" have an s in it. Cruel lexicon, English is. :-)

[slipjig.livejournal.com]

*snerk* Don't forget "st-t-tut-t-ter."