Tales from the Brain Pan

The Scattered Thoughts of an Infected Survivor

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I’m sure Irene Adler either had one, or hacked one!

Vatican Cameos, 18th Century Edition!

visit the online exhibition at The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Oh yes indeed, I could completely see Irene having this — whichever canon you follow!

I want one. Desperately.
Doesn’t even need to be this ornate, plain would be fine.
It’s a fucking puzzle desk for Christ’s sake, I could hide puzzle BOXES inside the compartments If I never get another gift for the rest of my life I will be happy if this is the last one.

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They’ve been running this commercial near me lately. But they really need to start airing the whole thing. They usually cut the scenario off at the 17 second mark, which turns the reason for delayed Snickers bites from “People in the 70s were lazy,” to “The white guys in the office came up with a bad excuse to shoot down the black guy’s idea.”

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Happy Easter

Easter isn’t a huge deal in my family anymore. We’re all adults now and there’s no kids to give baskets to, so it’s pretty much just a big meal and then whatever. On top of that, while we were raised Catholic, I wouldn’t say we’re practicing. My sister says she’s not Catholic, and I kind of like some of the structure by vastly disagree with a lot of the hateful messages. So I guess I’m just religious or something, I don’t really have a label for it? I’m not one for worship, but I like having vague images in my mind to talk to, not pray to, just talk to.

It reminds me of that old George Carlin bit where he talks about how he prays to Joe Pesci, because Joe listens about as much as god does, and will occasionally do some of the things George asks.

I talk to Benedict Cumberbatch. Ben and I will most likely never meet and I don’t actually know him, but I have that vague creation of what he might be that all people piece together about celebrities from interviews and photos and the characters they play. And Ben never replies to my musings, and I don’t ask him to do anything for me so it’s a pretty nice arrangement.

I guess it’s really just, I want to talk to someone, but I don’t want any answers or hear canned advice. I just need to be put at ease. And it’s not always Ben. Sometimes it’s my long unheard from friend Jason, and sometimes it’s my deceased brother. But mostly it’s Ben because we’ll never know each other so there’s nothing to judge.

This is getting pretty heavy. I hope you guys have a nice long day of meals and coloured eggs!

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100 followers! Yay!

To thank you guys for being good sports and lovely in general, I’m going to do a mug giveaway.

You, yes, YOU could be the lucky recipient of this terrific tall black mountain mug!

The Rules:
You must be following me and reblog this post at least once (don’t delete the comments!) I will announce the winner on April 20, 2014.

Love and good luck to all!

<3 <3 <3


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That moment when your childhood best friend posts about how gender neutral bathrooms are gross and it's just a bunch of entitled brats not getting their way and all the comments on said post basically agree and then you feel all the rage in your chest and all the anxiety in your soul of being a trans person that has to use a public bathroom and wonders what will happen when they do and some asshole inevitably thinks they know your gender better than you and tries to tell you you're in the wrong place. the constant wondering and fear if you will be verbally harassed or physically assaulted, the agonizing hours of not using the bathroom because their are no single stall options and you're too anxious to just pick the one that you know in your soul you belong in, or what if you're not binary identified at all, then where do you go?


And then you feel all the anxiety after posting a well crafted response in defense of gender neutral bathrooms and trans people’s lives, the blood pulsing through your veins but you feel cold, the heat in your chest burning with all the rage, and the shaking in your fists as you struggle to keep…

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Solid Bowie cover from Janelle Monáe. For me, nothing can beat the live version Bowie did on the Reality tour, but this is pretty good.