Katiesnickers

Yes She Does
Quite frequently, too, especially in the company of Conrad, which might be laughing with him or at him, the critics are undecided.
     Oh!  Do excuse me, please, as I seem to have missed out a spacing there.  Some passing folk might be thinking that this was about Katie's underwear.
    Hardly!  This is BOOJUM! and we pride ourselves on being SFW, so no nonsense about lacy lingerie-clad ladies here, thank you - and take that dirty gleam out of your eye while about it, matey.
     I should add here that Katie did actually harp on about underwear today, which Conrad only half-caught - there is a touch of the wretch and the letch about your humble scribe, dear audience - but it was of the "tummy-tucking" variety that shape and flatter the female figure.  More granny than glamour, and mention was made of "Bridget Jones" but since I've neither read the book nor seen the film, that particular image died as a whisper in a hurricane.
     Because Conrad is polite, and works only just across the aisle from Katie, I did ask if I could use the picture below, and she agreed.  The decapitation is deliberate, as you can see I have carefully avoided giving her surname also, so whilst she might be the butt of a little gentle humour here, you the reader - oi! I warned you about that gleam in your eye! - will never see her butt.

Katiesnickers

Carrots
NO!  Not a reference to Katie's hair.  The orange-coloured root vegetable.  
     I believe it is de rigeur for and incumbent upon bloggers to blab on about the food they eat, with a gallery of photos to bore their audience rigid.

A delicious nuclear fuel rod.
Conrad needs a glass of Gaviscon after a couple of these

     Well, Conrad also hates wasting food, and always wears a pained and mournful expression after being told that a festering pile of grey glob, threatening to escape the fridge and take over the world, has been consigned to the bin.
     Thus we come to carrots.  These carrots in particular:

Carrots.  Well, plenty of rot, anyway.

     Conrad is going to see how many he can eat before they mutate into sentient lifeforms and ask to be taken to our leader.

Z Nation
After confronting "aliens" at Roswell last week, this time the team tangle with Native Americans.  Yet another insular, isolated community - will they never learn? - partly set in a casino.

Snake eyes!
I don't know what it means, it's just something gamblers say

     Where the electricity comes from to power all those gaming machines is never mentioned, but they must have scads of it if they can afford to allow slot machines to run.
     Now, please don't look shocked, but it has been hinted at in previous episodes that Doc is no stranger to drugs, and he appears to know quite as much about taking them as he does about legal pharmaceuticals.  In this episode he tries peyote, a novel experience for him, and which transforms him from mellow old hippy to deadly assassin -

"Bring me more Zees!"

     The real news is the return of Citizen Z, which makes Conrad happy, as he is proof that you can be a wonderful person on the inside, rather than the outside, and still make it big in Hollywood.
     I do wonder where he gets the dog food from.  Also, taking out a zombie with an anti-tank rocket - frankly it smells of grandstanding and overkill.

Call me sick but this made me laugh out loud*.

"The Clicking Of Cuthbert" By - Yes You Guessed It - P G Wodehouse
This book is a bit of an experiment on my part, as it is 93 years since it was published and it's about golf.  You may breath a sigh of relief in knowing it's the last of the 10 book set of Plum's works that I got last Christmas, and also a touch of bewilderment at Conrad reading about sport.

Close enough

     Don't worry, the golf is laid on lightly, and the main concern is, as ever, the human condition.  The first story is the one that gives the title, and actually offers a view into the Russian Civil War, which was raging at the time Plum was writing.  Cuthbert, having joined a literary society to impress the woman he loves, is suffering under a surfeit of desperately gloomy Russian authors.  Still - "Cuthbert was an optimist at heart, and it seemed to him that, at the rate at which the inhabitants of that interesting country were murdering one another, the supply of Russian novelists must inevitably give out."
     I know this involves Politics, and perhaps Current Affairs, which skates close to breaching BOOJUM!'s rules, except this was 93 years ago, so I think we are allowed a bye.

     
NANOWRIMO
Ironically the progress I've made with "The Annals of Urquelomplangia" means I can boast about it, and then have to go off and do it - we are now past the Prologue, 1400 words in, about to detail the sudden elevation of Markus van Ogleheim -

 - but that would be telling, and we are already at our 60 minute limit.

I couldn't find any Mutant Weasel Bananas, so here's some meerkats instead.

* Yes I do spell it all out.  Conscientious, that's me.