Here's something totally cool that I've not seen mentioned anywhere else before. In 1x09 What he Beheld, Cameron's got 3 buttons on her jacket, each with two letters on them: no, FA, te (major props to cisaac for catching it while browsing the galleries at summer-glau.net).

The sad thing is you never get a clear view of all three buttons in the actual episode. The photo at Summer-Glau.net is a production still, not a screen cap. I went through the whole episode looking for a good shot, but all you can ever really see are the "no" and "FA". But the "te" is there even if we can't quite read it in any scenes. How fun is that?

Click the photo to see the original pic (and then click the original pic for the OMG MASSIVE size where you can actually read the buttons).


I need these buttons! And since I am a huge dork, I actually have a button maker, so I can haz them :D

ETA: My button maker only makes 2 1/4" buttons, not little ones. So there will be no cool no, FA, te buttons for me (unless I don't stop tempting myself to buy a 1 1/4" button maker just to make these).

ETA2: Because I can't say no to myself when I'm this excited about something, I ordered a new button maker. And I've already got the fonts on these buttons all figured out. I'll bring some sets of buttons to Comic Con for my fellow TSCC fans :)

About 5:45pm this evening, Barack Obama passed through our sleepy little town outside of Baltimore on his way to Washington DC. The man and I stood out in the below-freezing cold with pockets of other onlookers to await his train. I'm not sure the half hour or so we were out there was worth it for the 10 second glimpse of a moving train, but, you know, historic occasion and it was only a few blocks from our house.

( Here's the video I took of it going by. )

Earlier in the day, we drove around to see how much the cops had blanketed the neighborhood. It's probably the most police we've ever seen around here. We did find a couple unguarded spots with vehicle access to the tracks, though. Maybe some cops called in "sick" today since it was so cold out there ;)

I turned on WWE Raw for a bit tonight and not much has changed in the years since I last tuned in. But I'd forgotten just what a soap opera it really is.

I'm referring to professional wrestling, by the way (I'm guessing few if any of you watch or have ever watched it). I did, though — used to. Back when I ran the action figure business, wrestlers were quite popular. So one night, many years ago, the man and I turned on WWF (now WWE) to see what it was all about. I am probably the least likely person ever to watch pro wrestling, but I'll admit I got sucked into it. We both did.

We were regular viewers for a couple years from the late 90s into early this century. It was right about when The Rock was at the height of popularity, Mankind had re-emerged on the scene, Triple H was about to abandon the powerful DX and transform from villain to good guy, Edge and Christian had the coolest entrance and theme song, and The Hardy Boyz mesmerized with their high-flying performances. We even went to a WWF Smackdown show once. That was quite an experience and I can honestly say I had a lot of fun.

Former big names of pro wrestling often retire to local and regional circuits, so the man and I also went to a couple of those. We got to meet King Kong Bundy and The Iron Sheik at such events. We got a photo taken with King Kong Bundy that is absolutely hilarious. He has his hand around my neck and the size of his hand in comparison to my neck is quite a sight.

Professional wrestling is basically a soap opera of muscled and oiled characters in theatrical costumes who settle everything with violence in the squared circle. There's a lot of backstabbing and double-crossing in the quest for the title belt. Alliances are formed and broken as friends become enemies and vice-versa. There are mysteries that play out and even romance sometimes gets woven into the stories. The commentators act as dramatic narrators to it all. It's totally ludicrous, of course, but also as addictive as any other soap.

Anyway, I watched about half of Raw tonight and in addition to wrestlers I didn't know, there were some of my old favorites (I'm talking about you, Triple H) playing out some backstage drama, much to my delight. Don't worry, I have no plans to start watching wrestling again, but it was fun to catch a glimpse again.

Upon visiting a clock shop yesterday, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a grandfather clock. I don't even like grandfather clocks, but something about this one speaks to me. And I'm pretty sure it's saying "you need me in that corner in your dining room — the corner where those ugly shelves are that you want to get rid of." Yeah, that's what it's saying all right. Now I just have to figure out how to justify spending a big wad of cash on something I absolutely don't need.

I saw a guy with a comb in his back pocket and a mullet.

I don't just mean a regular comb. Remember those combs with the long handles that people used to carry in their pocket as a fashion accessory? When was that, like 1980 or there about? Well he had one of those and it was sticking a good 4" out of the back pocket of his jean shorts, complimented by long socks and a muscle shirt (sans muscles).

And when I say he had a mullet, I don't mean an ordinary mullet. I'm talking full-on Billy Ray Cyrus Achy Breaky Heart mullet, the length of which was pulled neatly back in a ponytail that hung to the middle of his yellow muscle shirt (which matched his yellow muscle car, by the way). Here's the odd thing: he was using a girl's scrunchie to hold his ponytail.

How does a guy end up like that? I think there's a story there.