Orlestone runs away with me.

You know I don't usually do memes where they figure out which redshirt death on the first season of ST:NG you are, that sort of thing. But this is different: What Kentish Village Are You? It transpires that I am Orlestone. Gosh! I have a forest associated with me, and also this pleasant old church. Now that's a meme worth having!

(Although if you do happen to know which redshirt death on the first season of NextGen I might be, please do tell me. I'm unlikely to be familiar with it, but I'm sure to be fascinated. See also: which major US airport I am, which small ceramic Red Rose tea figurine, which type of party hat, etc. I don't want to have to go through the trouble of taking quizzes, so if you are harboring this sort of information, it would really save me a lot of time.)

It's amazing what associates with people. redbird, for example, associates with Lemon Zinger tea in my head, and I have seen papersky wear a shirt that is almost the color blue rysmiel associates with. But papersky, who properly ought to have a color blue in my head, has not; instead she has a fabric texture, a particular kind of woven linen-cotton blend. (I hasten to add that whatever other folks may think of Lemon Zinger, that blue, or that linen-cotton blend, I like them.)

Brains. A lot of trouble, but really quite entertaining when you get down to it.

(no subject)

Also, it is extremely unfair of spammers to use ex-boyfriends' names. I'm just saying.

(If I hadn't had that summer fling with Aloysius Q. Stereophonic when I was 15, this would be less of a problem.)

Wrong again!

My dad wanted to get on the phone last night after Mom and I had talked, because I made him some mix CDs for his commute, and he wanted to tell me he was greatly amused by mishearing Dar Williams singing, "our parents do more drugs than we do," as, "Paris has more trucks than we do." Which was a perspective he had not expected.

Just now I misheard Liz Phair as singing, "one-eyed ingenue," when in fact she was singing, "wide-eyed ingenue." Oops.

I keep telling people that my main talent is getting the wrong end of the stick in an interesting way. Some of them even listen. Others probably think I said it was an interstellar way. Anybody who wants to write me and my dad a story about an interstellar one-eyed ingenue in Paris should feel perfectly welcome.

Have you had entertaining mistakes lately?