Excuses VIII

I cannot write a blog post today because:

#1 – I qualified for the Women’s 4×100 relay team. I mean, just as the alternate, but I’m pretty sure this is going to be the best seat in the house for the training montage, fist fight, trust building exercises, and eventual dramatic, fantastic win that I see coming… I would write something, but I have to pop some popcorn.

#2 – The X-Men called. They’ve time traveled to the 1970s. Or they think they have. Considering some of the technology they’ve described – the robots with the ability to read the genetic make up of a human being from fifty feet away – I think they might have just taken some drugs from the 1970s. Either way, they need my help.

#3 – My favorite character on my favorite television show died. Again. I could go into detail.  I’m not going to.

#4 – Some guy pulled up in a black Chevy Camaro and a sleek pair of Aviators. One of those guys, with the leather jacket, and the sunglasses that are only there to hide their gorgeous baby blues. I’m still trying to figure out what he’s here for. He’s deliberately dropping mysterious single sentences like I’m supposed to read his mind. I’m trying, but so far, all I’ve got is: he’s a werewolf. There are werewolf hunters trying to kill him. Some kid named  Stiles is weird. Some kid named Scott is some olden-days knight in werewolf armor. Some kid named Lydia is… something. And this guy would really like me to ask him about his dark and mysterious past.

#5 – I heard someone say, “Hail Hydra.” Seriously. I’ve been freaking out for about a week now, hiding in my kitchen with the pointy things and frying pans, and STILL none of the Avengers have shown up in the front yard. I’m building a secret bunker and hoping this all blows over. But you know… without actually blowing. We don’t need any explosions on top of this mess.

#6 – This guy keeps coming to my office. Oliver. He keeps showing up with weapons. Drugs. Napkins from random restaurants and butterflies. He keeps asking me to research them, figure out where they come from. I know I do that kind of thing, but these are weird requests. And his excuses are getting weirder and weirder. Last week it was a scavenger hunt with his best friend. This week he’s going bear hunting in his back yard. Next week he might claim he’s buying a birthday present for his mother and wants to make sure no one is getting her the same thing, even though, I’m pretty sure she didn’t ask anyone else for military grenades that have been modified to spew acid.

#7 – I’ve been riding North, and it’s proving a greater hassle than I thought. I knew that keeping oaths was not an easy business, but I had heard that squires were supposed to make things easier… not ignorantly leave the skin on the rabbit he’s cooking for dinner, catch the fur on fire and turn the rest of the camp into a smoldering disaster trying to put it out.

#8 – Someone is trying to assassinate Senator Palmer. Which is kind of rude. We have less than twenty-four hours to stop it. I don’t have time to blog. But I do have time for seven thousand phone calls, two or three angsty back stories, and twelve bad decisions.

#9 – I’m still trying to figure out why the Hippo helped the Meerkat. I’m thinking some kind of mutualism, but it might also be a metaphor, in which case it could be anything.

#10 – Star Fleet is having another melt down. Apparently they woke something up. I was called in to give a crash course in why you don’t want to wake up dangerous things. I’m not the professor. I’m the subject.

 photo Houseknowsthateverbodylies_zpsfb97c17f.gif


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