Saw King’s Speech, the natural progression from My Fair Lady’s satirization of linguistic distinction in social strata: can a speech therapist make royalty sound like royalty? But I can’t help myself from considering outrageous unintended parallels: George son of George, unexpectedly ascending to highest power ahead of his elder brother, thrust into a geopolitical war against a charismatic madman, and crippled by an inability in language usage.

I wasn't sure whether to refer to as a friend or a friend's roommate. It's in between, like, half-a-friend. Like, J[], before we had our bad poetry bonding moment.

The right and wrong way to communicate.

Already pillaged her recycling bin: it’s what she would have wanted.

You got to be careful about falling in love with trash cans.

“I once forgot my bookbag at Olive Garden, but that doesn’t make me the mayor of Italy.”

The many flavors of theta.

“Long time no see / Long time no say…”

Being nice is the gateway to being sneaky.

“…And your capital letters keep me asking for more…”

Every website is at most 6 links from Kevin Bacon’s wiki page.

“The Huey Lewis Show” isn’t just funny, but also therapeutic, when the audience prompt, for a newspaper headline they will never read, is “Chicago Beats Green Bay”.

DC is so not the city to move to if you need a winning football team to stick around.

The Iceberg.

If this makes no sense it’s because I really am running out to buy lettuce.

Submitting a recursive metaentry feels like phoning in a guilty pleasure, but a SI single is a SI single.

DreamMe writes DreamRecLetters for DreamJobs.

Do we blame the chili, or do we blame the bowl? Let’s blame the bowl.

Wait, no, stop. You insist that you can’t reveal who the last 2 were, right after you mention that he visited you and she visited you, and you know I’m clever enough to figure this out, and you think this counts as not telling anyone.
“I’m not saying anything.”
I don’t know anyone who can lie to themself better than you.

Happy birthday, I got you a hint.

It’s almost as good as how instead of directly inviting me to visit, you call me up and complain for an hour about how all your college friends who visit you wind up having sex with your boat or high school friends. Fine, I’ll see when I can come by.
“Wait, no, stop. I have to go build an attic.”

Plan B: I crash asleep early and hopefully stave off whatever I’m coming down with.

Back from escortry, with a SI single.

"I'd like to write a crossword with you.
Oh, wow. I don't know what to say. I mean, yes, of course, but shouldn't we discuss marriage first?

Packing, in the non-firearms sense of the word.

In the words of Genesis 1, calling it a day.

“There goes another night…”

Multiplication is hard.

“…Through these hard times…”

The closest thing to cat food is scones.

Dogs are funny. Neither you nor I would willingly, let alone enthusiastically, eat salmon, garlic, and bananas together.

“You know I’ve got to be more than this…”

Reason is in twilight: advantage and interest have reached their paradoxical limits. There is no incentive for optimality. Society cannot self-sustain, not constructed within a a set of negative loopholes. And so rationality goes the way of faith; statistics and economics and psychology become alchemy and astrology and parapsychology.

“…The more you think, the less you act this way…”

Fake it till you make it.

“…The fake sound of progress…”

Another SI single, which will hopefully allow a replacement hat delivered for my delivered Inker trophy! I do regret how in the interest of readability, I did forgo AABCC phrasing: “Obama pledges in the State of the Union that there will be a State of the Union pledge that we will put an American on Mars by the end of the decade by the end of the decade”.

<horrified> You just cut the cat!

Objectwork.

“There’s a 50% chance I’m getting a kitty. What should I name it?”
I have to suggest Schrodinger.

One part ancient grammar lesson, one part backhand, one part validation of paranoia.

I’m wingmanning her.
“Aren’t you wingmanning him?”
She’s in the accusative, he’s in the dative, and the girl he’s talking is in the genitive.

Looks like this year I’m resolving to have more interesting gchat away messages.

If there were a random guy (I'm envisioning Cash Cab style, only without the staging) who'd ask random folk who their rep was, for a $X prize- people would remember, just in case, wouldn't they?
“To create public awareness. We should ask some questions about breast cancer.”
That's why more Americans don't know their government representatives. It's not a practical trivia question. There's no incentive to know it.

Probably would be more upset at the lack of free trivia if I weren’t just bankrolled for the rest of the month.

It seems like purple will be the in color this year, per the Pearson Publishing & Modeling Agency.

“CCSS K.L.1
Lavender is evil”

This year I resolve to have more interesting solutions to the New York Times crossword.

Is it okay if I get a New Yorker Cartoon calendar?
Sure. They make great notepads in coming years.

“What’s a groupon?”

Too Much? Not enough.

“Are you J[]?”
“Yes?”
”You were great in Pillowman.”

“Embrace the past and you can live for now…”

A kiss.
A party.
A touch of fun.
A SI double (including a win!)
A brunch.
A nap.
A performance of Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind.

And all with friends old and new, here and far, good and amazing.
2011 and I are going to get along just fine, I think.

“…We are the voices / This is a New Year…”