boogie in your butt

And so it begins. The first two books of the 52 nonfiction challenge have arrived from the library. They are, though I can't say for sure what order I will read them in, The Pluto Files by Neil deGrasse Tyson–or as I prefer to call him, King Awesome–and God is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens. Both books I've been meaning to read, and this is as good an excuse as any.

I also got the 10^th anniversary hardcover version of Marvel's Marvels, which I have also been meaning to read. It's rough being me. Pity, please?

In "I want my baby back" news, I've sold a handful of books & DVDs, and advertised everywhere I can think to (feel free to spread the link person who is not actually reading this). I've only gotten a grand total of like $150 bucks for the stuff, but it makes me feel pretty good that they're going to places where they will be appreciated.

I'm kinda just killing time doing this. Type type type, is it bedtime yet? I spend the last few hours sitting the neph, watched about half of Yellow Submarine before it suddenly became bedtime. He was alternately enraptured and confused by it, and with his 4-year-old attention span kept wanting to do other things during (I actually have this problem, I can't just do one thing most of the time) like play weird Dinosaur-Bingo-with-Dice game. Fun times.

Aaaaaaand Colbert time. That's the end of that chapter.