Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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Like my brownhouse:
   twice in the hailstorm
Sunday, September 30 2012
I was out in the 9W area this afternoon, dodging aggressive guys trying to gather money for homeless veterans at Shop Rite, buying sheet plastic and spray foam at Home Depot, and then nutritional yeast at Mother Earth's Storehouse. While I was in that last place, a powerful hailstorm passed through, causing an intense rumbling sound from the ceiling overhead. When I went out to the car, there was still a layer of icy slush on the car. Eleanor must have been terrified, and she was happy to see me.
A passing freight train blocked me from driving homeward through Tech City (the mostly-abandoned remains of the old IBM plant), so I had to catch US 209 southbound from 9W itself, and for a couple miles of my drive down 209, I was back in that hailstorm. It ended near the 209's intersection with Route 28. It was sunny and there hadn't even been rain south of there. Back at the house, I asked Gretchen if there had been a hailstorm there, and she said there hadn't.

One of the main reasons I'd driven to town today was to get that nutritional yeast, the one thing Gretchen needed in order to make a noodle bake. The idea of noodle bake had somehow bubbled into my mind this morning while drinking coffee and trying to come up with an example of a surpassingly-delicious food. Gretchen hadn't made a noodlebake in months, and it was a delight to feast on it while watching a pre-recorded episode of Jeopardy from the DVR.

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