VelociraptorTeaHostess

Hello abyss, I have some freshly baked cookies for you <3

[velociraptorteahostess]

I spent all morning researching post-mortem lividity and not a SINGLE PERSON at the Super Bowl party asked me about it.

[velociraptorteahostess]

2 yr old: I want my roora.

Me: What?

2 yr old: Roora.

Me: The tire pressure gauge?

2 yr old: That's what I said.

My two year old doesn't stutter.

[velociraptorteahostess]

Hallmark but make it Tumblr 

The three hour drive back to her hometown had been exhausting. She had decided to stop at the local coffee shop before she drove the final two miles to her childhood home. She knew her parents would stage a good natured interrogation about her new, high paying office position and her still-ringless finger, and she wanted to put it off as long as possible. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the wooden menu board before her, boasting the ‘spirit lifting’ qualities of their new holiday drinks, but the squeal and hiss of the espresso machine and the murmur of voices around her enveloped her like a fog. Then, to her left, she heard something that made her stomach jump with excitement. “…call me Nanni cause I’m about to whip out a clay tablet and send you a complaint!” 

She spun around to see a tall, dark haired man in a flannel shirt, talking on his phone. “Excuse me” she blurted out, surprised at her own courage. The man turned around and her heart leapt. “Matthew?” She said, incredulous. Her high school sweetheart, who had never left town. Who had begged her to stay when her application had been accepted at the publishing firm, who had warned her that the city life would chew her up and spit her out, leave her lonely and cold. He hadn’t been wrong. 

Matthew’s eyes lit up instantly. “Bethy?” He rasped. “I… I didn’t know you were in town.” “No one calls me that but you.” She said, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you were interested in the ancient Babylonian copper trade.” He looked down at her face, and got lost in her blue eyes, as easily as he had when they had first met. “Did you know,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to brush a tendril of golden hair from her face. “That the building they found that tablet in is believed to be Ea Nasir’s house?” She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck and said breathlessly “And that they found several more clay tablets there?” He bent down to whisper in her ear “each of them from other customers with similar complaints.” They kissed. 

[velociraptorteahostess]

Me before reading the Silmarillion: Oh the sad and mysterious elves! So melancholy! So ethereal! Alas that middle earth should lose such wise and beautiful beings...

Me after reading the Silmarillion: Ew.

[velociraptorteahostess]

A quick recap and then blankets.

That wasn't too bad, was it? That four year wait while I crammed knowledge into my brain? I did many strange and wonderful things since last I tumblred. (tumbled?) I went for a walk, I did some laundry, I hand stitched a corset, I learned to play cello, I earned my B.A. A productive four years and no mistake.  Anyhow, I survived the tempest of higher education for one reason and one reason only: to bring you, dear reader, this exhaustive list of what blankets are good for. 

1. Warming. The most obvious and important task of the blanket is to provide you with that wholesome, snuggly heat that warms you to the core. The magic works faster if you have a cat/hot water bottle/friend/freshly baked pie under there with you. 

2. Hiding. I have done this several times, it works like a charm. As long as your head is covered, no one will know you're in there. Also good for hiding friends, pets, pie, or dirty laundry. 

3. Carrying. Yes indeed, this amazing contraption can be used to carry books, pies, pets, friends or dirty laundry to a fro with the added bonus that you will look like a hobo. 

4. Blanket forts. This amazing feature combines items 1 and 2, as you will be filled with that wholesome feeling of warmth and joy, and you will also be hidden. More points if you have freshly baked pie and a flashlight. 

5. Clothing. When you are naked and the bathroom is far away, the blanket is your best friend. Also good when the morning comes too early and the clothings have too many complicated holes. The blanket will not judge you for not getting dressed until you have had your third pot of coffee, the blanket will embrace you as if to say "I love it when it's just you and me". 

6. Padding. Blanket does not mind if you sleep on top if it, blanket will do it's best to protect you from the cold, hard ground.

7. Decoration. If, for some strange reason, you do not want to snuggle with your new-found blanket friend, blanket will wait for you on your bed, futon, couch or chair, just looking pretty and waiting to embrace you again. Blanket really just wants to please you and be a part of your life, blanket doesn't mind waiting. Blanket is patient. You can even tack blanket to the wall if you like, blanket will wait there and make sure the wall doesn't hurt you or make you cold. (Although blanket would like to point out that the wall does get rather lonely and blanket would really rather keep your shoulders warm.) 

I'm sure that you are as astonished as I at how many useful uses there are for blankets. And the list goes on! (Especially if you realize that rugs, curtains, and tablecloths are all types of blankets) Take some time to get to know your blankets today, it could be the start of a wonderful relationship. 

-Your Tea Hostess

[velociraptorteahostess]

Do you consider yourself a pirate adventurer?

I do sometimes, yes. (That is if by pirate you mean a less-than-regularly-washed traveler who skimps on vegetables and enjoys dressing up from time to time. Although I am scared of the water.)

[velociraptorteahostess]

Give it a try...

Wherever you are, wherever you are going to go, I encourage you to look today.

Not for something specific, not for something lost, just look,

and I guarantee you that you will see something before the end of the day.

Something funny chalked on the sidewalk, a dog running back inside, a lost button.

Some things are for all to see like graffiti or cookies for sale.

Some things are private like a couple chancing a kiss or a glimpse of someone's livingroom.

The most wonderful things are the ones only you can see, like the way

the wind ruffles the head of a flower or the way a person stuffs their change back into their pocket.

You might find things while your looking, a piece of broken glass, a bracelet or a photograph.

You can keep these things as memories of the day you spent looking, prizes you received from the universe for paying attention.

Wasn't it lovely?

[velociraptorteahostess]

...and if all else fails I will move to Indiana and live with the skunks.

[velociraptorteahostess]

Academia rhymes with Macademia.

I'm not sure if you agree with me, dear reader, but I think its time for another story. (Well, why wouldn't you agree with me? You are, after all, MY dear reader and are therefor partial to anything I might have to say.)

In the land of academia one has to dispense with those smaller comforts like sleep, bathing (and laundry) and interacting with real humans. (Professors and dining services don't count.) Us students are a breed living on extremes. We survive on a carefully balanced diet of animal fat and simple carbohydrates. (Largely ice cream and the cone it comes in. Ramen and easymac are considered cornucopias of nutrition.)

Sleep comes as a side effect of dangerously low caffeine levels. Hair loss, scabies, amenorrhea, nervosa totalia (I made that one up) amnesia, parasites and bulemia are all symptoms of a productive lifestyle. Most of our exercise comes in quick bursts, either heaving large books across the room or sprinting towards the bus.

Laundry, when done, is done in such large loads that the orbit of the earth shifts slightly. Couches are for sleeping, beds are for studying. Squirrels can be consumed if necessary. Without facebook we might forget that an outside world exists, but if we were to encounter it we would be surprised when we can't 'like' things we see.

We learn about the inner workings of systems we will never see, touch, smell, taste, hear, dance with, talk to, date, we master the theories of people our professor's professor had lost interest in. We don't know how to microwave popcorn. Sports are a hobby in which people are killed and made into bed spreads. Rugby was a term invented to protect the perpetrator of terrible unthinkable war crimes in ancient times.

But thats enough about me. I wish to talk about the deeply inspiring nature of our mission.

Here at The Prestigious Women's College, we have been studying. We have been pondering words, theories and social structures with the critical prowess of finely tuned thinking machines.

“I love my flamingo silly band!!!” “Use the word obtuse, it's totally sexy...” “I'm glad you guys are here your really warm...”

We have been challenging the rules laid down by those who came before us with the passionate zeal of a thousand lemurs in mating season.

“Parmenides is a obviously a senile old git who has no truck with reality...” “I don't have a hammer so I used this high heel...” “Why is there no sugar free yoghurt!??!”

We lay aside our differences and forge forward for the betterment of our nation.

“gender studies majors are all so sexist...” “this article is so pretentious...” “I've had it with you and your pretentiousny pretentiousness...”

But most of all we share a bond of struggle,

“sooo... quick before the professor comes in... what was the reading about?”

A bond of passion,

“I can't read any more... I mean what is it all about? I have lost my faith in academia, its all such a social construct...” “I feel like every statement is ultimately reductionist...”

A bond of sisterhood.

“I NEED A TAMPON!!!!”

And that concludes my broadcast day, except to say goodnight Prestigious Women's College, study hard, sleep well, and for the love of GOD please flush the toilet after you use it.

-Your Tea Hostess

[velociraptorteahostess]

[velociraptorteahostess]

Observations of a Traveler and her Octopus

The streets of Boston and Cambridge were planned ingeniously to confuse any possible invading forces (especially the British but also any giraffes or welshmen) and keep them from finding the T stations. The T stations themselves are an enigma, making it so that any foreigners that do find their way on to the transportation line quickly become confused and go the wrong way. Due to a small oversight by the Massachusetts Department of Getting the Fuck Around and Sign Placement (MA.D.G.F.A.S.P.) , everyone else is confused too. If one were to look at the street layout from above, one would see how the streets imitate, arrest and generally interrupt each other with the ease and frequency of so many errant schoolchildren running amok. All is not lost though, if a traveler finds themselves lost, they need only ask the nearest local which direction to head. The locals (easily recognized by their confused, angry expression) speak an archaic and hard to understand form of English, but will understand shouting, hand waiving and mime. I myself had to ask directions from no less than seven humans, two squirrels and one very helpful map kiosk. (Just a note: map kiosks do not respond to English or pantomime.) The natives here drive with the heartwarming vivacity of a herd of wildebeests on crack. They surge in, never retreating, unconcerned by the hordes of oncoming pedestrians blocking their path. They appear to have frequent turf wars with other cars and the odd pedestrian, but these confrontations are usually limited to shouting and gesturing. Do not challenge a car unless your car is bigger and more intimidating. If anyone waves their middle finger at you, do not despair; this gesture has a different meaning than in other regions. Here it is equivalent to a jovial “Hi, hello there, have a good time in my village!”

-Your Tea Hostess

[velociraptorteahostess]

"That one can love another of the same gender, that is what the homophobe really cannot stand."

Stephen Fry

[velociraptorteahostess]

"Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society."

Mark Twain

[velociraptorteahostess]

Just saying....

I have had some very deep thoughts over the last few days. Deep thoughts which, to some of you, may be disturbing. None the less, I have to share them, I have to get them off of my chest. Some came to me as little nuggets of wisdom on a breeze of consciousness, others as great supernovas of satori during quiet meditation.

I shouldn't have to chew my food. We have developed myriads of ways to process our food into a warm comforting mush, why settle for anything less? Everyone knows the best foods require little to no chewing, i.e. mashed potatoes, pudding, custard, polenta, soup, pumpkin, jam and couscous. It is true, of course, that sometimes one does crave a bit of crisp crunch every once in a while, but this can be found in a bag in the junk food section. I see no reason to spend a WHOLE MEAL working my poor jaw muscles to ruin trying to masticate what is obviously under processed meat. (Yes, that was a call out for steak smoothies.) Our kitchen has two, count them, TWO cheese graters, (an obvious sign of opulence) so why do I still have chunks on my plate? The only utensil I should need is a spoon.

Secondly, Cats should be machine washable. Well, all pets really. I am getting sick and tired of their fluff getting everywhere, and frankly one dog I could mention stinks to high heaven. So really, am I the first person to think this? Write to congress, make your voice heard. Vote for machine washable, people. Do yourselves a favor.

And lastly, That cake last night was a bad idea. I'm all bloated and icky now. While one could blame it on the quantity (one metric shitload) rather than the timing or the quality (both poor), I think we know who the REAL culprit is here, and I’m looking at you, intestines. 

Thank you for your time dear reader. I know that now you, like me, will be enlightened.

Be well

-Your Tea Hostess

[velociraptorteahostess]

Like a fox.

[velociraptorteahostess]

Instant inspiration. (Dehydrated inspiration, Silicon dioxide to prevent caking)

For those times when one is down, for those moments when our best is not enough, just remember; these fox's ears are really, really big. The fennec fox, native to the Sahara in Africa, has grown these ears especially for keeping itself cool and hearing every little thing you say. (Please also note extravagant whiskers and intent 'I know exactly what your thinking' gaze.) So live your life fully, cast aside hatred and doubt, do not let yourself become entangled in malice or jealousy. Cultivate compassion, forgiveness and mindfulness. Live as one untouched by desire or fear and say to yourself, "I can do this. Like a fox."

-Your Tea Hostess

[velociraptorteahostess]

A quick word on potatoes.

If you have ever taken a bite of that amazing substance we mortals call 'potato' you will know exactly what I am talking about when I describe them as moist, lovely, smooth, creamy, fluffy, warm, cuddly, orgasmic goodness. I myself prefer them mashed with lots of garlic, butter, cream, salt, pepper and basil, swimming in warm turkey gravy. But I also enjoy them in their many other forms, including but not limited to the baked, the french fried, the oven baked fry, the pancake, the sliced, stacked and baked in butter a la Child....But really and truly I love the mashed. I love to smell them as I'm mashing them... I love to sprinkle salt and herbs on all of their creamy curves... I love to dribble melty garlic butter in all of their nooks and crannys... I love to roll around in their steamy embrace, overwhelmed by their creamy buttery fluffy moist goodness.... potatoes!!!! Potatoes!!!!!! Ehem. Yes. Anyways.

But there is one thing that I cannot abide by, and that is the atrocity know as the instant flake potato. Humans have an amazing way of taking the good things in life and stripping the good out of them, leaving them cold and diseased, uncomfortable and hungry. When I see a box of instant 'potatoes' I shudder, I can practically see the blood dripping from the box, almost hear the wails of innocent root vegetables as they are divorced of their nature-given nutrients. It is enough that we have to buy the poor little dears in a plastic bag at the grocer, like orphans. (I buy all of my orphans in plastic.)  Are you telling me that you have no time to be compassionate? No time to wash them, scrubbing their little jackets one by one, slice them neatly, watch them boil in a pot... are you saying you would rather not spend a little bit of time getting to know this amazing little tuber that is about to feed you? Shame. Shame. Shame on you for succumbing to the commercial world of Betty Cracker where potatoes come in powder form, where housewives whip up a meal from a box, free of lumps and emotion, where acrylic nails tap on the vermiculite counters waiting for the fully cooked carcass in the oven to warm up so it can be torn apart......

Anyway. I really do like potatoes.

P.S. In the years since writing this post I have discovered Sour Cream and Chive Instant Mashed potatoes which combines two things that I love: potatoes and not chewing. So consider me partially converted.