That's a simple question with a funky answer. I'm reading a bunch of book chapters and articles, many of which are either historicist pieces on Early Modern England or Medieval manuscripts or media studies; I'm reading the Norton edition of Chaucer's dream/vision poetry (again); I'm reading Pride and Prejudice for funsies (again); I'm listening to an audiobook of Game of Thrones: Song of Ice and Fire as I fall asleep at night; I'm picking through Montaigne's essays and will shortly pick up some Aristotle (again); I'm reading an account of a Morris dance together with the Book of Sports; I'm ever and always reading a great deal of the Shakespearean corpus.

Busy.

Oh dear! Happy belated birthday. I hope it was a good one.

Raspberry, often. Fresh raspberry sauce and vanilla ice cream served over a molten-center chocolate cake? That's the ticket.

Frequently, because I'm mean.

Butter, olive oil, grape seed oil, vegetable oil.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vSY_rB928c

Play

Lasagna! Or maybe chili, especially if you have a slow-cooker. See, for example, http://thefishieskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/06/slowcooker-honey-hoisin-chicken.html

Goodnight Moon.

1) Anywhere.
2) The first thing on opening the door that looked like it should be done.
3) Tennant. Obviously.

Killer legs. Also eyebrows that are very good at communicating just how stupid I think someone is being.

I go for a run, or tell a friend I'm in a funk and ask for some social silliness that forces me to step outside myself.

I don't really give much of a fig about frozen waffles or pop-tarts, but I am very pro-bagel and -English muffin. I think that if you can safely put something toastable in a toaster, you should do it. The result can only be delicious.

My brain is hurtling along too quickly for me to keep up with the potential puns of a bar mitzvah ska cover band.

If it seems worth bothering (i.e., there is obvious reciprocated interest), usually I get exasperated and initiate kissing. Or I would if I ever did anything like that, which I obviously don't. Ever.

Get hopped up on caffeine and be placed in a room paneled with one-way glass and full of random crap, including at least two trampolines.

50m3wh47

Could I be the Toastinator? I'd crisp the outsides of my enemies to a degree of doneness determined by a knob on my badass chrome armor. My secret identity would be a mild-mannered and bookish baker who runs a small cafe/bakery/book store.

No man makes my toast for me. I make my own frakking toast.

Real, grown-up push-ups? Maybe one. As for doing knee-to-opposite-elbow-while-in-plank, I dunno, eighty? One hundred?

Four hours of "feeling fragile," I think.

Nope.