Thomas Edison's historical reenactor is kinda hot

Skypeing and with my bro at 4am:
Me: Look at this book I bought, Vin. *holds up to webcam* Look how big this thing is.
Vin: That's what she said.

Me: These headphones make my ears hurt.
Vin: That's what she said.
Me: ...What?
Vin: Be quiet, I'm tired.


(I was registering a patient for her surgery but she had some knitting with her so naturally we talked about that for 20 minutes)
Me: (trying to wind down the conversation) Do you remember the stuff I told you about your procedure?
Patient: No, I only remember the stuff we were talking about with knitting. We have our priorities straight.

Sarah walks in with a coffee.
Me: That smells good. What is it?
Sarah: Regular coffee with some chocolate powder. It's a fake mocha. Faux-cha.

My scarf of hate is finally finished and blocked. And screw you, stockinette stitch, you're dead to me. You may be easy to knit, but you are an ugly person inside.

It still curls even after shaping and blocking.

Blocked on my grandma's guest bed.

********

So, I have a Kindle right. I haven't bought an actual book since 2008's In the Courts of the Sun. I still refer to that as the-book-I-will-someday-finish.
After work on Friday I went to Barnes & Noble (I don't own BN's Nook and I keep my Kindle with me at all times, and I feel like the B&N employees can smell it and then ban me for life.) I haven't wanted to read a book this much since that book about a serial-killing Ouiji board (don't laugh it was AWESOME), and of course the Pendergast novels but those don't count.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke.

"It’s 1808, and that upstart Napoleon is battering the English. Enter Mr. Norrell, a stuffy but ambitious scholar from the Yorkshire countryside and the first practicing magician in hundreds of years. What better way to demonstrate his revival of magic than to change the course of the Napoleonic wars? Mr. Norrell travels to London to establish his influence in government circles, devising such powerful illusions as an 11-day blockade of French ports by English ships fabricated from rainwater. But however skillful his magic, his vanity provides an Achilles heel, and the differing ambitions of his more glamorous apprentice, Jonathan Strange, threaten to topple all that Mr. Norrell has achieved. It is an enthralling, moving story of a rivalry between the only two practicing sorcerers in England."

For some reason, that summary sold me on it. That, and the glowing review from Neil Gaiman and the fact that it was TIME's Book of the Year.

So I bought it.

This behemoth is 846 pages.

I am on page 35. At risk of making my own Carpetbook, the text is blurred out.
The book is written in an old-timey fashion and it's semi-difficult to follow. Definitely can't read this in a few hours or days like I can with other books.


******


I was informed this morning by my good friend James that someone I used to play Final Fantasy XI with (who I knew only as her character named "Bob") has recently passed away. I didn't know Bob too well but I will forever remember the conversation we had years ago about curling hair with a flat-iron. "It doesn't work even if you spiral your hair," she advised me. I remember cracking up at that because that was JUST what I had been about to try. I also remember her story about how she named her character "Bob": she asked her dad what she should name her character and he jokingly said "Bob". Unfortunately it's been probably four or five years since I last spoke to her, so long that I don't remember much about except that she was a Hume Paladin.

I had to search my harddrive to find a screenshot of her:

Transformed into a baby chocobo while waiting for Limbus.

Getting ready for Kirin.

Here's to you, Bob.