October 18th, 2007

Kero asleep


"Greeeeeg..." came a weak rattle. "Breaaakfassst..."

Greg looked out over the bar of the pass-through, to see Brigid in sweats, dragging herself painfully across the floor towards the kitchen.

"What ho, a zombie!" he said.

"Please," Brigid croaked, almost desperately, as she gripped at a stool leg to pull herself up. Her eyes were crunched in agony, but the rest of her face was completely slack as if it just took too much energy to have an expression. "I've got to get out of here by 7:30. Some moron set up an 8:00 proposal meeting ... I set four different alarms to get myself up ... I just had the fight of my life to roll out of bed onto the floor to get myself moving. God as my witness, I'll never say a bad thing about you again, if you'll just make something, anything, for breakfast. If I make it myself, it'll take forever! I've got to go by 7:30!"

Greg raised his eyebrows in apology. "I hate to tell you this," he said, as she succumbed to gravity again, "but it's 8:15."

There was a long moment of silence. "Fuck," Brigid said finally, and fell asleep on the rug.

-The Gneech

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Party Guy

Happy Birthday, kesh!

For your present, here's today's Forgotten English (© Jeffrey Kacirk):

perfect crisis
Among physicians, that which frees the patient perfectly and entirely from the distemper, and is either salutary or deadly.
--Nathaniel Bailey's Etymological Dictionary, 1749

Some have used the word [crisis] to signify only the favorable changes which supervene in disease; others, for the change going on in the acme or violence of the disease. From Greek diacrisis, judgement.
--Robley Dunglison's Dictionary of Medical Science, 1844

Feast Day of St. Luke,
a patron of physicians. In the mid-nineteenth century, medical doctors enjoyed neither the prestige nor the financial independence that their modern counterparts have today. The following excerpt of a curious help-wanted ad was found in a London newspaper from that era: "Wanted, for a family who have bad health: a sober, steady person, in the capacity of doctor, surgeon, apothecary, and man-midwife. He must occasionally act as butler, and dress hair and wigs. He will be required sometimes to read prayers, and to preach a sermon every Sunday."

And he must look good in spats.

-The Gneech
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Boromir battle


Wow, tearjerker over in OOTS.

Just for background -- Roy is temporarily (we presume) in Heaven, having been slain in an epic battle last chapter, and awaiting resurrection. The gal in the comic is his mother, whose idealized self apparently is when she was 17.

Nice one, Rich. :)

-The Gneech
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