Now that I've gotten my month's bout of ego-onanism out of the way, time to give peeps to my props. Pops to my perps. Preps to the poops. Wossname. You know.
Firstest, anyone who hasn't been calling Alex "Master" these past few years no longer has any excuse. She gets a big round of applause, and many hugs; she worked damn hard for this. "Clearly, we can expect great things from you... Terrible things. But great."
Second, Matt just learned that he gets to eat a little while longer yet. (I had little doubt, myself.) Congrats to him for that, and fingers crossed that the next one's going to be even better. Though I have to admit, from a purely practical standpoint, I'm almost as impressed that he came up to Edgewood over the Walpurgisnacht/Beltane weekend and fixed the plumbing in our downstairs bathroom, which I know he hates doing, and which he did anyway with grace and good cheer. Thanks, big guy.
Tertiarilously, Andy's now doing his part to dig culture out of L.A., which I imagine to be a difficult and painful extraction. The opportunity to work in one's field is no small matter, which makes me rather more understanding of the less-than-entirely-accomodating arrangements he's putting up with. Well done on the job, my friend, and I hope to gods you're not sleeping under newspapers, or forced to blow some down-on-his-luck talent agent for lodging.
And Spyder has just completed a year of higher education. Her starre is ascendant; look on her works, ye mighty, and despair.
Finally, as the Links box at hand would indicate, Thing in a Jar now has some actual (and interactive!) content, thanks to the web-wizardry of the Gypsygeek: the forums on In Formaldehyde. I charge you to contribute to the general slack, and come post; let's fill the aether with cultural rantings and general clove-smoking philosophical pretentiery.
Gold stars, exes and ohs to all. It's good to be sharing the world with you lot.