what’s the nothing loki gets?

A Bit of the Booty (In Which Sigyn Misbehaves Just a Little Bit)

Sigyn was so cute in her swashbuckling outfit that she made out like a bandit true pirate.  There was the usual haul of wrapped candy sweets but, down at the bottom of the bag, there was also…this.


Dearest, what in Midgard IS this?  It is sparkly enough to be a Yule ornament, but it doesn’t have a hanger.  Is it food?  A decoration?  I’m not sure I trust it.

Open it up and see…


Ah.  It is, according to Sigyn, a very highly decorated sugar cookie in the shape of a pumpkin.  Really?  No pumpkin I ever saw was those colors—and none of them sparkled.

But how does it taste?  Quite often, fancy cookies are all about the decorations and, underneath all the frosting and furbelows, taste like glorified cardboard.

Great Frigga’s corset!  It must have been delicious because there is not a crumb left.  Tasted of vanilla and lemon, you say?  Good to know, though you couldn’t prove it by me.

Thank you, Sigyn.  Thank you for sharing.

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Serves You Right

So you humans are gearing up for the annual July Gaming Weekend.  That means that you, human female, are doing some baking, so that there will be goodies for guests.  Over the weekend it was a double batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a batch-and-a-half of gingerbread.  You wondered whose rotten idea it was that a bottle of molasses is just shy of what’s needed to make a batch-and-a-half.

I think we all know the answer to that one.

Today it is BACON ROLLS, those delectable spirals of bacon, cheddar, and thymey goodness.  They look scrumptious and smell divine.


BUT!  if you are just going to shove them in the freezer and not let ME have any while they are warm and fragrant, you can bet your miserable life that that super-hot bacon pan is going to find your stingy little hand.


Poke, poke, poke.  Does that hurt?   Yes?  GOOD!

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Yule is A-coming, Part III: Great Fenrir’s Fleacollar, MAKE IT STOP!

So the Yule shopping is going on…and on… and on.  The human female is looking for brocade ribbon.   And books for small people.   And a certain “yummy bergamot and cedar” hand soap recommended by a friend of her mother’s.  But can she look at just ribbon and books and hand soap?  NO, SHE CANNOT.

She is looking at everything, and by Odin’s monocular vision there is so. much. CRAP to look at that we will probably still be wandering aimlessly come the spring equinox.

And the crap is starting to take on a very disturbing slant.  Look at these!


As much as I adore the thought of blowing my nose on my brother’s oafish face, and as much as Steve’s goody-goody-ness still gives me a rash and kidney failure so I don’t mind if he is snotted on as well, I fail to see the pressing need to make a product like this at all.  What’s that?  The actual tissues aren’t printed with their stupid faces?  That takes away all the fun and makes them an even more ridiculous idea.

Sweet glittering Bifrost! There is more:


NO!  The godson does not not need any stickers this year!  Keep moving!

Augh!  There is my stupid brother not brother again!


The shelf may say “Charlie Brown,” but the hammer and the dorky helmet are a dead giveaway.

The thorribleness is everywhere.


There are thornaments…


Vintage thor…  (Yep, 12 cents is about what he’s worth)


Grumpy thor…


Ugly 3-D thor…


Constipated thor…


This thor has bits you can swap out with Frost Giant parts.  That…  That is a good idea, actually.  Let’s see how he likes being ostracized and ridiculed for a little chilly DNA.

All in all, far too much blonde Asgardian beef on sale today.  I think the needle on my thor-o-meter is ticking into the red zone.

Please, can we go HOME now?

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