Mystery of missing garden gnomes puzzling
By The Associated Press | July 19, 2005
GREELEY, Colo. --The mystery of the missing garden gnomes may prove harder to solve after all.
Police found about 80 of the pint-sized figurines stashed in black plastic bags and surrounded by youngsters on Saturday, but investigators don't think the children stole them.
In fact, Sgt. Dave Adams said the children most likely found them, so it's back to square one.
Adams said police will call people who reported their gnomes stolen to come identify the decorative yard items.
Elsie Schnorr, who had 30 gnomes stolen from her front lawn more than a month ago, will be among the first to retrieve her property.
"I could identify every one of them. My name isn't on them, but I know which ones are mine. Most of mine are one-of-kind," she said.
First of all, may I just say ....
30 GNOMES IN ONE YARD!!??!!
okay, that being said---
This little episode proves my friends and I were TREND SETTERS, I tell ya...TREND SETTERS!!!
As children, we, too, experimented with Gnomes.
(okay, we weren't exactly CHILDREN, but that's beside the point...in fact, well...nevermind about that.)
So anyway, we had a habit of visiting a certain house, in the dead of night, and rearranging their multiple gnomes.
Generally, we would arrange them on the doorstep...staring alarmingly into the house...we liked to think it looked as if the gnomes were stopped just short of a major insurrection by the breaking of the dawn, but it probably just looked kind of silly.
We returned to the same house several times, and did more subvertive rearranging, but stopped eventually, as it was no fun not being able to see the inhabitants faces as they rose in the morning to see a horde of gnomes threatening their homestead.
Well, I guess they weren't that threatening...with their cute little hoes and buckets, but imagine if they were 30 feet tall!?
30 feet tall, grinning their weird maniac grins.
Now that would be scary.
Oh yes.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
This just in! EXTREME ACCOUNTING!
Extreme accounting is the latest - and unlikeliest - adrenaline sport.
Accountants visit challenging locations like mountain tops, seabeds, caves and rollercoasters.
Inspired by the "extreme ironing craze", (this really DOES exist) they take their paperwork with them, reports the Sun.
South African Keet Van Zyl is the sport's reigning champion.
(I'd like to know what he did to deserve the title...did he set himself on fire while adding up two tax returns at the same time?)
A spokesman for the Chartered Institute of Management Accounting said: "It's a phenomenon that pushes accountants to their limits - and beyond."
Oh and what, helping people evade their taxes isn't thrilling enough, it has to be done hanging naked over a croc pit?
Don't accountants get enough excitement tieing their own shoes?
Jeffye? Any thoughts?
Accountants visit challenging locations like mountain tops, seabeds, caves and rollercoasters.
Inspired by the "extreme ironing craze", (this really DOES exist) they take their paperwork with them, reports the Sun.
South African Keet Van Zyl is the sport's reigning champion.
(I'd like to know what he did to deserve the title...did he set himself on fire while adding up two tax returns at the same time?)
A spokesman for the Chartered Institute of Management Accounting said: "It's a phenomenon that pushes accountants to their limits - and beyond."
Oh and what, helping people evade their taxes isn't thrilling enough, it has to be done hanging naked over a croc pit?
Don't accountants get enough excitement tieing their own shoes?
Jeffye? Any thoughts?
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
A nice restaurant = disappointment
I took myself out for lunch the other day, to a restaurant I’d been wanting to try for some time.
“Provence”, it was called.
I waltzed in and was taken to a very nice seat by the window and waited to order a drink.
And waited.
And waited.
(still waiting…)
FINALLY, the waiter came by and took my drink and lunch order.
“I’ll have a cold beer and the cannelloni, please.”
“Yes ma’am.” He took off towards the back.
What? Did I say cannelloni?? Why did I do that!?
I actually wanted the ravioli.
Drat.
The restaurant was very nice.
Small and elegant…taupe walls, accented by long, heavy and elegant drapery in a darker chocolate brown held back from the wood encased floor to ceiling french windows with gold ties.
While the view was only of a street, the restaurant had put in a raised outside patio and sumptuous amounts of flowers and trailing greens to detract from the less than ideal view.
They were playing a slightly overdone version of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, which I love, but it has been pla...
“YEAH, so like, I said to the guy, give him a head butt, man! That’ll take care of him!”
A man’s voice rang out over the carefully selected background music with an apparent word to the wise.
What the HELL was that?
Looking around surprised, I could see a young waiter titillating his feminine co-worker with tales of virility.
Which, you know, obviously went very well with the calm décor and carefully chosen wall hangings.
“’Cus you know, if there’s going to blood spilt, you don’t want it to be yours.”
Uh huh.
Thanks for that.
That little old woman sipping tea in the corner will be sure to know exactly what to do the next time she's in the ring with the 'Undertaker' (which may come in handy for her sooner than later, judging by her frail appearance.)
Another waiter circled the empty dining room with a great, gawping open mouthed yawn, giving me pause to reflect on how proud I am of the excellent dental service afforded to all Canadian citizens.
Oh look, here comes my tomato based cannelloni and a side salad.
I had to wonder what the side salad did to deserve its’ sad fate, however.
Poor, poor salad.
What did those innocuous little greens do to deserve death by drowning in a balsamic dressing?
It wouldn’t be fair to judge the cannelloni, as I’ve never been a big fan, but I guess it was okay.
The pasta was al dente, the tomato sauce fresh and the melted cheese good.
Despite the palatability of the cannelloni, a head butt may have been a better overall experience.
And here's why.
I’m a customer that enjoys service at my finger tips.
I like it when my waiter comes to me and asks how I am, if I need anything, if I’m done with my cannelloni and would like to get it wrapped.
I enjoy being doted on.
There was no fear of that, however, in this empty little restaurant.
I was put in a corner and pretty much left to fend for myself against gaping jaws, bad manners, and a violent sounding waiter.
And it looked as if I would have to wrap my own lunch, too.
And no…I didn’t take the salad…it was WAY past resuscitation, thank you very much.
But oh my, weren’t they quick as bunnies with the bill!
I was left to question if I did offend somehow, the poor service, the average food slapped down in front of me, a bill brought to quickly...and then I reconsidered...they'd all been exposed to one to many headbutts.
“Provence”, it was called.
I waltzed in and was taken to a very nice seat by the window and waited to order a drink.
And waited.
And waited.
(still waiting…)
FINALLY, the waiter came by and took my drink and lunch order.
“I’ll have a cold beer and the cannelloni, please.”
“Yes ma’am.” He took off towards the back.
What? Did I say cannelloni?? Why did I do that!?
I actually wanted the ravioli.
Drat.
The restaurant was very nice.
Small and elegant…taupe walls, accented by long, heavy and elegant drapery in a darker chocolate brown held back from the wood encased floor to ceiling french windows with gold ties.
While the view was only of a street, the restaurant had put in a raised outside patio and sumptuous amounts of flowers and trailing greens to detract from the less than ideal view.
They were playing a slightly overdone version of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, which I love, but it has been pla...
“YEAH, so like, I said to the guy, give him a head butt, man! That’ll take care of him!”
A man’s voice rang out over the carefully selected background music with an apparent word to the wise.
What the HELL was that?
Looking around surprised, I could see a young waiter titillating his feminine co-worker with tales of virility.
Which, you know, obviously went very well with the calm décor and carefully chosen wall hangings.
“’Cus you know, if there’s going to blood spilt, you don’t want it to be yours.”
Uh huh.
Thanks for that.
That little old woman sipping tea in the corner will be sure to know exactly what to do the next time she's in the ring with the 'Undertaker' (which may come in handy for her sooner than later, judging by her frail appearance.)
Another waiter circled the empty dining room with a great, gawping open mouthed yawn, giving me pause to reflect on how proud I am of the excellent dental service afforded to all Canadian citizens.
Oh look, here comes my tomato based cannelloni and a side salad.
I had to wonder what the side salad did to deserve its’ sad fate, however.
Poor, poor salad.
What did those innocuous little greens do to deserve death by drowning in a balsamic dressing?
It wouldn’t be fair to judge the cannelloni, as I’ve never been a big fan, but I guess it was okay.
The pasta was al dente, the tomato sauce fresh and the melted cheese good.
Despite the palatability of the cannelloni, a head butt may have been a better overall experience.
And here's why.
I’m a customer that enjoys service at my finger tips.
I like it when my waiter comes to me and asks how I am, if I need anything, if I’m done with my cannelloni and would like to get it wrapped.
I enjoy being doted on.
There was no fear of that, however, in this empty little restaurant.
I was put in a corner and pretty much left to fend for myself against gaping jaws, bad manners, and a violent sounding waiter.
And it looked as if I would have to wrap my own lunch, too.
And no…I didn’t take the salad…it was WAY past resuscitation, thank you very much.
But oh my, weren’t they quick as bunnies with the bill!
I was left to question if I did offend somehow, the poor service, the average food slapped down in front of me, a bill brought to quickly...and then I reconsidered...they'd all been exposed to one to many headbutts.
Friday, July 22, 2005
This work thing is interrupting PRIME blogging time.
I knew that was going to happen!
Ah well, I promise to blog as often as I can, and as well as I can.
Luckily, nothing of interest has occurred this week, so I don't feel as if I'm leaving you, gentle reader, out in the dark on my (at the moment) less than fascinating life!
Oh, I just forgot!
I did go to the Vancouver Art Gallery last night, to see the Rodin exhibit.
I saw some of his works at the Musee Rodin in Paris a few years ago, but unfortunately, the employees were on strike while I was there, and the museum was closed.
I got to see very little besides the gardens and some of the statues on permanent display there.
The gardens were beautiful, as was the exterior of the Hotel Biron, but I could little more than press my nose up against the glass in a vain attempt to see the wonders inside.
I was very glad that the Gallery had a presentation of his works, as Rodin is a wonder.
His sculptures stand effortlessly in space, the delicate ones looking so airy and light that any moment they may be whisked away by the slightest breeze.
His more forceful statues takes up room in a fierce, concentrated energy...there is no mistaking the intent.
Here's a good, accurate quote...
"His great individual figures and best monuments reveal a depth of feeling for humanity and a nobility of thought that place them among the finest works of European sculpture."
Michelangelo had marble, but Rodin has bronze.
And it's wonderful.
Ah well, I promise to blog as often as I can, and as well as I can.
Luckily, nothing of interest has occurred this week, so I don't feel as if I'm leaving you, gentle reader, out in the dark on my (at the moment) less than fascinating life!
Oh, I just forgot!
I did go to the Vancouver Art Gallery last night, to see the Rodin exhibit.
I saw some of his works at the Musee Rodin in Paris a few years ago, but unfortunately, the employees were on strike while I was there, and the museum was closed.
I got to see very little besides the gardens and some of the statues on permanent display there.
The gardens were beautiful, as was the exterior of the Hotel Biron, but I could little more than press my nose up against the glass in a vain attempt to see the wonders inside.
I was very glad that the Gallery had a presentation of his works, as Rodin is a wonder.
His sculptures stand effortlessly in space, the delicate ones looking so airy and light that any moment they may be whisked away by the slightest breeze.
His more forceful statues takes up room in a fierce, concentrated energy...there is no mistaking the intent.
Here's a good, accurate quote...
"His great individual figures and best monuments reveal a depth of feeling for humanity and a nobility of thought that place them among the finest works of European sculpture."
Michelangelo had marble, but Rodin has bronze.
And it's wonderful.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
And with a single 'crack' of the whip...
....work is back to full GO!
So, if you wonder what's happened to me, that would be it.
Unfortunately.
Oh, remember I mentioned stupid idiot boy crashed his Ferrari a while back?
Well, he's done it again, but this time he's managed to write off his BMW Z8.
Maybe some one should take all his toys away until he learns how to play nice.
So, if you wonder what's happened to me, that would be it.
Unfortunately.
Oh, remember I mentioned stupid idiot boy crashed his Ferrari a while back?
Well, he's done it again, but this time he's managed to write off his BMW Z8.
Maybe some one should take all his toys away until he learns how to play nice.
Monday, July 18, 2005
P.S. (an addendum to the weekend.)
I narrowly managed to avoid purchasing my very own copy of :
"Hamlet, the Revised Klingon Editon"
So if you want a copy, it's out there folks, for the low low price of $39.95.
Also available:
For five monthly installments of $49 each, you can get "The Official Klingon d’k tahg Crystal Edition," which is "the awesome weapon of the Klingon warrior" from "Star Trek."
This would be used, presumably, to stab people who call you a hopeless geek.
(It would also come in handy to defend your Klingon copy of Hamlet from bullies who want to mindlessly shred it into very tiny, tiny pieces.)
You'd better hurry, I'm seriously reconsidering my intial reaction of pure horror to it, and may going running back to buy all of them.
Please. Hurry.
"Hamlet, the Revised Klingon Editon"
So if you want a copy, it's out there folks, for the low low price of $39.95.
Also available:
For five monthly installments of $49 each, you can get "The Official Klingon d’k tahg Crystal Edition," which is "the awesome weapon of the Klingon warrior" from "Star Trek."
This would be used, presumably, to stab people who call you a hopeless geek.
(It would also come in handy to defend your Klingon copy of Hamlet from bullies who want to mindlessly shred it into very tiny, tiny pieces.)
You'd better hurry, I'm seriously reconsidering my intial reaction of pure horror to it, and may going running back to buy all of them.
Please. Hurry.
Busy busy busy weekend!
Ah, what better way to spend a sunny weekend (the first in a long while, here in Vancouver!) than with dear friends, good food, Shakespeare on a beach and sangria at a Flamenco show?
I'll tell you...
NOTHING could be better!
All of my girlfriends get together once a year to celebrate our collective 'UN' Birthday...we don't buy each other presents, instead we meet at one destination once a year to celebrate our friendship with our 'presence'.
So, the first trip to the ferry Friday evening, and then off to coffee. Unfortunately, that little trip saw us wading through hordes of little wizard wannabees as they waited in cranky, over tired, hyperactive lines for the newest Harry Potter book.
Saturday, a delicious breakfast at a wee English pub ("please, no black and white pudding!)
(I've never had black pudding before, but according to 'Vanne, (who is capable of painting evocative paintings with just a few words), it's rather like eating a scab.)
Another quick trip to the ferry, and another dear friend is added to the mix Saturday afternoon.
A bus trip to the beach to see 'Rozencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' was hot and sweaty, but soooo worth it.
(http://www.bardonthebeach.org/2005.html)
What a GREAT play...the quality of dialog left not a minute that was not entertaining...thanks Tom Stoppard...I love that play!
A quick bus trip home, to make ready for a night on the town!
Dinner at a fabulous restaurant, replete with fine wine, and a courtesy visit by the chef...then a jaunt across the street to watch some fiery and splendid Flamenco dancers moving across the small stage with authority and passion.
And then Sunday, a fine breakfast with more friends, then a cab ride BACK to the beach to take in a fine day under the main tent to see 'As You Like It'.
And thanks to you, William, for such delightful, thought provoking plays.
"All the world's a stage..."
I can't think of a more splendid weekend!
Thanks to my dear friends, for making it so sweet!
(with an extra nod of thanks to Nish', for soldiering through it all as well as she did...don't worry, you'll be fine by the time the UN-Christmas rolls around!)
I'll tell you...
NOTHING could be better!
All of my girlfriends get together once a year to celebrate our collective 'UN' Birthday...we don't buy each other presents, instead we meet at one destination once a year to celebrate our friendship with our 'presence'.
So, the first trip to the ferry Friday evening, and then off to coffee. Unfortunately, that little trip saw us wading through hordes of little wizard wannabees as they waited in cranky, over tired, hyperactive lines for the newest Harry Potter book.
Saturday, a delicious breakfast at a wee English pub ("please, no black and white pudding!)
(I've never had black pudding before, but according to 'Vanne, (who is capable of painting evocative paintings with just a few words), it's rather like eating a scab.)
Another quick trip to the ferry, and another dear friend is added to the mix Saturday afternoon.
A bus trip to the beach to see 'Rozencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' was hot and sweaty, but soooo worth it.
(http://www.bardonthebeach.org/2005.html)
What a GREAT play...the quality of dialog left not a minute that was not entertaining...thanks Tom Stoppard...I love that play!
A quick bus trip home, to make ready for a night on the town!
Dinner at a fabulous restaurant, replete with fine wine, and a courtesy visit by the chef...then a jaunt across the street to watch some fiery and splendid Flamenco dancers moving across the small stage with authority and passion.
And then Sunday, a fine breakfast with more friends, then a cab ride BACK to the beach to take in a fine day under the main tent to see 'As You Like It'.
And thanks to you, William, for such delightful, thought provoking plays.
"All the world's a stage..."
I can't think of a more splendid weekend!
Thanks to my dear friends, for making it so sweet!
(with an extra nod of thanks to Nish', for soldiering through it all as well as she did...don't worry, you'll be fine by the time the UN-Christmas rolls around!)
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Thank the Gods! Praise be!
FINALLY!
They've gotten around to inventing an 82" t.v.
The people who've been forced to try to get by with 62" and 72" inch TVs will see some relief.
I just can't imagine how, as a race, we've survived so long.
Thank you Samsung.
We can all rest easier at night knowing that you are there...striving to make this world a better place.
HAHAHAHAHAHOOHAHAHA!!!
*sniff* **SNORT**
AHaAHAHAHAHA!!!
Ooooh,
Mr. T.
THE A-TEAM!!
I wasn't allowed to watch it as a youth...to much violence.
Interestingly, despite the multitude of car crashes, explosions and gratuitious acts of random destruction, no one ever died.
Come to think of it, the bad guys could roll their car up and down several hills, fly upside down over a bridge, have it burst in to flames for no apparent reason, get hit by a well timed train, and then fall off a cliff, and they would still manage to escape their now crushed, smoldering, demolished vehicle without even a limp to show for all their efforts.
Truly inspiring!
So anyway, I wasn't allowed to watch it due to the amount of violence, but beyond that, I'm not entirely sure what my dad thought...I really wasn't foolish enough to think I could do those things.
Oh, don't get me wrong.
I tried and tried to emulate my heros antics (not to mention their shenanigans), but I just never got the flame thing quite right.
I could spin out and burn rubber, do three sixties down dark winding roads with deep water-filled ditches on either side, and my smoke shows were the stuff of legend, but alas, no flames. *
Though in retrospect, I suppose that was a good thing.
*but maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough...maybe now that I'm older and more experienced with cars and fire, and with a little more practice...
...hey 'Vanne, wanna go for a car ride?
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
I didn't know that 'glass-gazing' was a bad thing...
I’m such a lucky girl!
First Danny gives me a fine Italian phrase book from the Lonely Planet.
(Yes, 'Vanne, it includes ALL the ‘indelicate’ terms.
*nudge nudge* *wink wink*
I'll be cursing up an Italian storm, believe you me!)
Oh, I do love my phrase book…it’s so VERY informative…molto grazie Danny!
Mi sento fortunatissima!
And then…
Another great bequeathing!
Another book!!
And not just ANY book, but a timely and perfectly given book.
“Shakespeares’s Insults: Educating Your Wit”
Oh, many, many thanks Chris…and the inscription…so eloquent!
May I quote you?
Yes, I believe I will.
“Knowledge is idle when trapped on a bookshelf.”
Oh, yes, you’re are ever so correct, and your gift ever so appreciated!
And here’s a fine insult from “As You Like It”:
“I do frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.”
Ah, I love insults that have real bite to them.
None of this, "You suck" here, oh no, this has depth and sting...
"You are a knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rouge; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good sevice, and are nothing but the compostion of a knave, beggar, coward, pander and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deni'st the least syllable of thy addition!"
Ouch.
First Danny gives me a fine Italian phrase book from the Lonely Planet.
(Yes, 'Vanne, it includes ALL the ‘indelicate’ terms.
*nudge nudge* *wink wink*
I'll be cursing up an Italian storm, believe you me!)
Oh, I do love my phrase book…it’s so VERY informative…molto grazie Danny!
Mi sento fortunatissima!
And then…
Another great bequeathing!
Another book!!
And not just ANY book, but a timely and perfectly given book.
“Shakespeares’s Insults: Educating Your Wit”
Oh, many, many thanks Chris…and the inscription…so eloquent!
May I quote you?
Yes, I believe I will.
“Knowledge is idle when trapped on a bookshelf.”
Oh, yes, you’re are ever so correct, and your gift ever so appreciated!
And here’s a fine insult from “As You Like It”:
“I do frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.”
Ah, I love insults that have real bite to them.
None of this, "You suck" here, oh no, this has depth and sting...
"You are a knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rouge; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good sevice, and are nothing but the compostion of a knave, beggar, coward, pander and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deni'st the least syllable of thy addition!"
Ouch.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Glad I was wrong about that!
I went for Thai food the other day.
LOVE Thai food.
The hotter the better.
They got one of the orders wrong, not a big deal really, but they felt that they should offer us a free dessert to make up for their outrageous error.
It came out...a small dish of easily recognizable ice cream and...what IS that??
A small brown lump of something deep fried.
A FISH STICK!?!
I'd never had ice cream with a fish stick before.
With great trepidation, I took a nibble and ascertained quickly that it WASN'T fish (though they might want to change their frying oil soon), but I still couldn't figure it out.
Another small bite...BANANA!
Weird.
Deep fried banana.
It wasn't great, but I'm REALLY glad it wasn't a fish stick.
LOVE Thai food.
The hotter the better.
They got one of the orders wrong, not a big deal really, but they felt that they should offer us a free dessert to make up for their outrageous error.
It came out...a small dish of easily recognizable ice cream and...what IS that??
A small brown lump of something deep fried.
A FISH STICK!?!
I'd never had ice cream with a fish stick before.
With great trepidation, I took a nibble and ascertained quickly that it WASN'T fish (though they might want to change their frying oil soon), but I still couldn't figure it out.
Another small bite...BANANA!
Weird.
Deep fried banana.
It wasn't great, but I'm REALLY glad it wasn't a fish stick.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Once I settle in, I'll invite everyone over. Should be any day now.
A nice little to place to call home in Tuscany is SUCH a necessity, don't you agree?
Oh, to travel again.
My travel bug is starving and complaining bitterly.
It's partially my fault, I've been reading travel memoirs about France and Italy, feeding the bug even more, but not enough to satisfy it.
I really can not WAIT to go back to Europe.
My first few trips were so fabulous and exciting...I want to go back with more understanding and more language and more specific quests.
In France I want to spend more time in the small, small towns, investigating every nook and cranny.
In Italy I want to spend more time eating, and enjoying the foods each area has to offer...you know, Parmesan from Parma, roma tomatoes from Rome...you get the drift, right?
Oh, to go again and be able to speak a little more of the languages...to know more about the wines...
The first time I went, it was with Vanne to the British Isles.
She had everything very nicley organized.
I didn't have to worry 'bout anything except for sleeping, and believe me, I worried about that A LOT!
The second time I went, it was on a whim...on a lark and all by myself!
I knew general things about France and Italy, and muddled through happily, but I know now that I missed a lot of things due to sheer ignorance (you realize, of course, I'm using that word in it's grammatically correct form, and not calling my self a stupid head, right?)
With luck (and some of Vannes' planning), I will be returning to my beloved Italia in a few years with my best friends, and what a joy that will be!
Traveling alone was great, and I'd do it again in a heart beat, but I'm really looking forward to being with my best friends to enjoy it.
As I've been to Rome before, it'll be a delight to watch 'Pol and Nisha's faces experiencing all those things for the first time.
And whatever Italian I fail to learn, I trust 'Vanne to pick up the slack!
You will, right?
uh...per favore?
Si?
I mean, lets consider for a moment shall we?
The only thing I can be trusted to say reliably in Italian is,"Vorrei dieci commemorativi francobolli, per favore."
And frankly, the thought of me running around Italy shouting at the natives, "I would like 10 commemortive stamps, please!" is distrubing.
First of all, it's a flat out lie, and secondly, it just doesn't get me any delicious food and wine, now does it?
Sono pazza, non?
It's partially my fault, I've been reading travel memoirs about France and Italy, feeding the bug even more, but not enough to satisfy it.
I really can not WAIT to go back to Europe.
My first few trips were so fabulous and exciting...I want to go back with more understanding and more language and more specific quests.
In France I want to spend more time in the small, small towns, investigating every nook and cranny.
In Italy I want to spend more time eating, and enjoying the foods each area has to offer...you know, Parmesan from Parma, roma tomatoes from Rome...you get the drift, right?
Oh, to go again and be able to speak a little more of the languages...to know more about the wines...
The first time I went, it was with Vanne to the British Isles.
She had everything very nicley organized.
I didn't have to worry 'bout anything except for sleeping, and believe me, I worried about that A LOT!
The second time I went, it was on a whim...on a lark and all by myself!
I knew general things about France and Italy, and muddled through happily, but I know now that I missed a lot of things due to sheer ignorance (you realize, of course, I'm using that word in it's grammatically correct form, and not calling my self a stupid head, right?)
With luck (and some of Vannes' planning), I will be returning to my beloved Italia in a few years with my best friends, and what a joy that will be!
Traveling alone was great, and I'd do it again in a heart beat, but I'm really looking forward to being with my best friends to enjoy it.
As I've been to Rome before, it'll be a delight to watch 'Pol and Nisha's faces experiencing all those things for the first time.
And whatever Italian I fail to learn, I trust 'Vanne to pick up the slack!
You will, right?
uh...per favore?
Si?
I mean, lets consider for a moment shall we?
The only thing I can be trusted to say reliably in Italian is,"Vorrei dieci commemorativi francobolli, per favore."
And frankly, the thought of me running around Italy shouting at the natives, "I would like 10 commemortive stamps, please!" is distrubing.
First of all, it's a flat out lie, and secondly, it just doesn't get me any delicious food and wine, now does it?
Sono pazza, non?
Friday, July 08, 2005
Right back at ya, boys!
Ever hear the old saying, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"
Well, here's your comeuppance guys, and about time, too...
Shout it LOUD AND PROUD LADIES!
"You don't buy the whole pig just to get a little sausage!"
Yowza!
Well, here's your comeuppance guys, and about time, too...
Shout it LOUD AND PROUD LADIES!
"You don't buy the whole pig just to get a little sausage!"
Yowza!
Mos*qui*to = A dark minion fresh from the dankest levels of hell.
MOSQUITO
Main Entry: mos•qui•to
Pronunciation: m&-'skE-(")tO
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -toes also -tos
Etymology: Spanish, diminutive of mosca fly, from Latin musca -- more at MIDGE
: any of a family (Culicidae) of dipteran flies with females that have a set of slender organs in the proboscis adapted to puncture the skin of animals and to suck their blood and that are in some cases vectors of serious diseases
TORTURE
Main Entry: 1tor•ture
Pronunciation: 'tor-ch&r
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Late Latin tortura, from Latin tortus, past participle of torquEre to twist; probably akin to Old High German drAhsil turner, Greek atraktos spindle
1 a : anguish of body or mind : AGONY b : something that causes agony or pain
2 : the infliction of intense pain (as from burning, crushing, or wounding) to punish, coerce, or afford sadistic pleasure
HELL
Main Entry: hell
Pronunciation: 'hel
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English; akin to Old English helan to conceal, Old High German helan, Latin celare, Greek kalyptein
1 a (1) : a nether world in which the dead continue to exist : HADES (2) : the nether realm of the devil and the demons in which the damned suffer everlasting punishment -- often used in curses or as a generalized term of abuse b Christian Science : ERROR 2b, SIN
2 a : a place or state of misery, torment, or wickedness b : a place or state of turmoil or destruction
MOSQUITO TORTURE HELL
So, anyone gleaming what the general topic of today’s blog is going to be from the above entries?
If you guessed unmitigated mental (and physical) anguish in the deep dark corners of the night, you’d be correct!
Lucifer himself decreed that I should lie awake in endless torment, awaiting the whining, soul destroying 'zzzzzzzzttttt' that announces a host of mosquitoes set to converge on my poor, prone sleepy body and bleed me dry.
I was sound asleep last night, when I awoke with a start; something hurt!
Something on my body was burning and insanely itchy.
OH, it’s my entire right arm and left kneecap.
DRAT! There’s a horde of mosquitoes in my room!
“OH PLEASE PLEASE,” I begged out loud to the enveloping dark, tears streaming down my face in fervent supplication...my hands clasped at my chest in an age old gesture of humble and earnest entreaty *, “Please leave me be...look yonder,” I pointed at the prostrate body of my sleeping cat, “Take him. I have to work tomorrow!”
(At this point, I have to admit to a certain amount of guilt about that whole 'offering up of the cat' part.
But before you judge me too harshly, consider the considerable misery and torment that must have induced me to offer, as sacrifice, my cat to the demanding and vicious mosquito god...but he’s a right bastard! I had no choice! And I was tired and oh so itchy.)
That incident takes me back to the time I was riding a beautiful white horse across the plains of the Camargue in Provence.
I think it was lovely. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was.
The wild black bulls, the amazing and startlingly pink flamingos and vast green wetlands, all would have been a wonderful thing to see as I rode along that memorable day.
Unfortunately, the many flocks of MOSQUITOES that also grace the rough and rugged beauty of the Camargue got in my way.
All I could see was a great, black swarm of the blood thirsty agents of Beelzebub coming to carry me away to their pestilent leader.
The travel agents certainly didn’t mention THEM in their pamphlets, now did they!!
In short, I wage a daily battle against that wee terror.
I fight valiantly though, killing as many as I can with wild abandon.
I do, despite the knowledge that it's a war I'm destined to lose.
*oh, I do go on so, don't I!
Main Entry: mos•qui•to
Pronunciation: m&-'skE-(")tO
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -toes also -tos
Etymology: Spanish, diminutive of mosca fly, from Latin musca -- more at MIDGE
: any of a family (Culicidae) of dipteran flies with females that have a set of slender organs in the proboscis adapted to puncture the skin of animals and to suck their blood and that are in some cases vectors of serious diseases
TORTURE
Main Entry: 1tor•ture
Pronunciation: 'tor-ch&r
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from Late Latin tortura, from Latin tortus, past participle of torquEre to twist; probably akin to Old High German drAhsil turner, Greek atraktos spindle
1 a : anguish of body or mind : AGONY b : something that causes agony or pain
2 : the infliction of intense pain (as from burning, crushing, or wounding) to punish, coerce, or afford sadistic pleasure
HELL
Main Entry: hell
Pronunciation: 'hel
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English; akin to Old English helan to conceal, Old High German helan, Latin celare, Greek kalyptein
1 a (1) : a nether world in which the dead continue to exist : HADES (2) : the nether realm of the devil and the demons in which the damned suffer everlasting punishment -- often used in curses
2 a : a place or state of misery, torment, or wickedness
MOSQUITO TORTURE HELL
So, anyone gleaming what the general topic of today’s blog is going to be from the above entries?
If you guessed unmitigated mental (and physical) anguish in the deep dark corners of the night, you’d be correct!
Lucifer himself decreed that I should lie awake in endless torment, awaiting the whining, soul destroying 'zzzzzzzzttttt' that announces a host of mosquitoes set to converge on my poor, prone sleepy body and bleed me dry.
I was sound asleep last night, when I awoke with a start; something hurt!
Something on my body was burning and insanely itchy.
OH, it’s my entire right arm and left kneecap.
DRAT! There’s a horde of mosquitoes in my room!
“OH PLEASE PLEASE,” I begged out loud to the enveloping dark, tears streaming down my face in fervent supplication...my hands clasped at my chest in an age old gesture of humble and earnest entreaty *, “Please leave me be...look yonder,” I pointed at the prostrate body of my sleeping cat, “Take him. I have to work tomorrow!”
(At this point, I have to admit to a certain amount of guilt about that whole 'offering up of the cat' part.
But before you judge me too harshly, consider the considerable misery and torment that must have induced me to offer, as sacrifice, my cat to the demanding and vicious mosquito god...but he’s a right bastard! I had no choice! And I was tired and oh so itchy.)
That incident takes me back to the time I was riding a beautiful white horse across the plains of the Camargue in Provence.
I think it was lovely. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was.
The wild black bulls, the amazing and startlingly pink flamingos and vast green wetlands, all would have been a wonderful thing to see as I rode along that memorable day.
Unfortunately, the many flocks of MOSQUITOES that also grace the rough and rugged beauty of the Camargue got in my way.
All I could see was a great, black swarm of the blood thirsty agents of Beelzebub coming to carry me away to their pestilent leader.
The travel agents certainly didn’t mention THEM in their pamphlets, now did they!!
In short, I wage a daily battle against that wee terror.
I fight valiantly though, killing as many as I can with wild abandon.
I do, despite the knowledge that it's a war I'm destined to lose.
*oh, I do go on so, don't I!
Thursday, July 07, 2005
We're thinking of you London...
Know that you've got a place in all of our hearts now and in the future...
May your wounds heal quickly, though the scars remain.
May your wounds heal quickly, though the scars remain.
A small portion from "The Cloud"
I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die,
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
--Percy Bysshe Shelley
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die,
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
--Percy Bysshe Shelley
Speaking of sucking chest wounds...* (and more blathering)
...I was driving to work this morning, in the slower lane of the double lane highway, when a dark flash ran out across the path of the 5 ton UPS truck in front of me.
"Oh no..." I gasped as my stomach raced to my throat.
I slowed my car and waited to hear the screech of tires and to see the UPS truck twisting in effort to avoid hitting the crazed man who ran out in front of him.
I scanned the space ahead to look for a place to pull over to offer what ever aid I might, but realized suddenly that there would be very little I good do against a sucking chest wound.
Then I realized...there was no wail of brakes, or slow motion crushing of soft flesh against unforgiving metal...
Ah, it was merely a person on a moped cutting in front of the truck to take the turn off.
My eyes deceived me.
I was sure it was a person, dodging traffic to get across the road, I was sure that I was going to be witness to a death this morning.
And then I remembered the feeling of zero at the bone...Ms Emily Dickinson wrote that in reference to seeing a snake slid out from the underbrush, but that feeling of all the blood in your veins turning to ice was never better described.
-----------------------------------------------------
I had a dream last night that Dana Scully (X-Files) and I, were investigating a small town where many of the people had developed a zombie-like presence which ended in a complete disintegration of flesh and, as one would expect after that, death.
We had ascertained that it was an airborne viral problem that was extremely infectious.
The initial symptoms began with general moodiness and unfocused rage, and then progressed as described above.
As we had identified the problem, the next thing to be done was to get the hell out before we, too, were infected.
BUT, of course, Ms Scully started getting grumpy so I had to leave her behind.
I know, not much of a climax.
-----------------------------------------------------
My favorite ‘bumper sticker’
“Witches parking only.
All others will be toad”
-----------------------------------------------------
My little cat Attessa is doing well with her wee purple cast.
She thumps around authoritatively, smacking Bentley as she goes.
Actually, she’s very good with it, leaving it alone, no licking or biting at it, she’s been very calm through the whole process.
The cast is coming off on the 18th of this month. It will be interesting to see her adjustment to a leg without a cast on.
But, she’s been taking it all in stride (…) so I doubt it’ll be more than a day or so before she’s perfectly re-adjusted to her old self!
Look out Bentley!
And blah blah blah…
(it’s getting worse, isn’t it?)
Signing off and begging your patience,
Tai the Absurd.
* thanks Spider Girl (http://www.bathtubspider.blogspot.com/)...the image has burned itself into my brain, and I just can't shake it!
"Oh no..." I gasped as my stomach raced to my throat.
I slowed my car and waited to hear the screech of tires and to see the UPS truck twisting in effort to avoid hitting the crazed man who ran out in front of him.
I scanned the space ahead to look for a place to pull over to offer what ever aid I might, but realized suddenly that there would be very little I good do against a sucking chest wound.
Then I realized...there was no wail of brakes, or slow motion crushing of soft flesh against unforgiving metal...
Ah, it was merely a person on a moped cutting in front of the truck to take the turn off.
My eyes deceived me.
I was sure it was a person, dodging traffic to get across the road, I was sure that I was going to be witness to a death this morning.
And then I remembered the feeling of zero at the bone...Ms Emily Dickinson wrote that in reference to seeing a snake slid out from the underbrush, but that feeling of all the blood in your veins turning to ice was never better described.
-----------------------------------------------------
I had a dream last night that Dana Scully (X-Files) and I, were investigating a small town where many of the people had developed a zombie-like presence which ended in a complete disintegration of flesh and, as one would expect after that, death.
We had ascertained that it was an airborne viral problem that was extremely infectious.
The initial symptoms began with general moodiness and unfocused rage, and then progressed as described above.
As we had identified the problem, the next thing to be done was to get the hell out before we, too, were infected.
BUT, of course, Ms Scully started getting grumpy so I had to leave her behind.
I know, not much of a climax.
-----------------------------------------------------
My favorite ‘bumper sticker’
“Witches parking only.
All others will be toad”
-----------------------------------------------------
My little cat Attessa is doing well with her wee purple cast.
She thumps around authoritatively, smacking Bentley as she goes.
Actually, she’s very good with it, leaving it alone, no licking or biting at it, she’s been very calm through the whole process.
The cast is coming off on the 18th of this month. It will be interesting to see her adjustment to a leg without a cast on.
But, she’s been taking it all in stride (…) so I doubt it’ll be more than a day or so before she’s perfectly re-adjusted to her old self!
Look out Bentley!
And blah blah blah…
(it’s getting worse, isn’t it?)
Signing off and begging your patience,
Tai the Absurd.
* thanks Spider Girl (http://www.bathtubspider.blogspot.com/)...the image has burned itself into my brain, and I just can't shake it!
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Ubiquitous.
This post will contain certain amounts of randomness and some sheer pointlessness as well.
And just so you know, so there's no mistake, there will be absolutely no rhyme or reason to it, no structure, and no obvious time line to follow.
----------------------------------------
I saw a man the other day, possessed of the most astounding collection of ear hair I have ever seen, or ever hope to (never) see again.
The exterior of his ear, (the round part just above the ear lobe) was thick with a cactus-like growth of black prickles sprouting densely outward, seeking the sun.
Then, there were the long, curly tendrils of inner-ear hair, bushy and circling around the dark hole leading to his brain.
It was a veritable pelt! His ear (I only saw the one) was truly hirsute!
I paused in my reflection of this astounding collection of furze, to wonder if some of those hairs could grow long enough to spiral in around his brain stem and do some serious damage.
He didn’t seen to notice my astonishment and revulsion, but then, the jazz music we were listening was very good.
----------------------------------------
I’ve become very talented at paper shuffling since Vancouver is currently experiencing a trucking strike.
My job is dependent on container shipping, as no containers are being moved due to no trucks driving them to our facility, I have very little to do.
Well, you might say, you could clean and file and update records.
Uh…no.
You see, when I actually do have something to do, I’m very efficient at it, so I’m not behind.
Ah, but your co-workers, you press on.
They’re in the same boat, so to speak.
Thus, I blog and blog with relative impunity.
And I am happy.
I can’t actually LEAVE for the day, anyway.
But that isn’t so bad, the weather here in Vancouver has been dodgy at best (it’s only July, after all), so I'm better off at my desk, warm and dry and happily blogging.
----------------------------------------
I cleaned my apartment yesterday, not quite from top to bottom, but as close as I ever get to it.
I cranked up some old school Arrowsmith (I know, I know, even their modern stuff is already ‘old school’) and rocked out to “Dude Looks Like a Lady” while scrubbing my toilet.
I wonder what the neighbours think when I do that?
Normally I’m an extremely quiet person, listening sedately to chamber music whilst making a healthy dinner for myself to enjoy while watching documentaries I’ve rented from the library.
(OMG. It’s true! I really DO do that. Oh, what you must think of me!
Oh well, at least I don’t also have several cats that curl around my legs while I eat my dinner at the coffee ta... NEVERMIND!)
----------------------------------------
UBIQUITOUS.
It’s a word that just doesn’t get used enough in everyday conversation.
Really.
It ought to be used till it, too, is ubiquitous.
----------------------------------------
AND...I have nothing else to say at this time.
Stay tuned!
If this strike doesn’t end soon, you may see more of this random gibberish by yours truly.
Signing off now before it gets really bad,
Tai the Inane
And just so you know, so there's no mistake, there will be absolutely no rhyme or reason to it, no structure, and no obvious time line to follow.
----------------------------------------
I saw a man the other day, possessed of the most astounding collection of ear hair I have ever seen, or ever hope to (never) see again.
The exterior of his ear, (the round part just above the ear lobe) was thick with a cactus-like growth of black prickles sprouting densely outward, seeking the sun.
Then, there were the long, curly tendrils of inner-ear hair, bushy and circling around the dark hole leading to his brain.
It was a veritable pelt! His ear (I only saw the one) was truly hirsute!
I paused in my reflection of this astounding collection of furze, to wonder if some of those hairs could grow long enough to spiral in around his brain stem and do some serious damage.
He didn’t seen to notice my astonishment and revulsion, but then, the jazz music we were listening was very good.
----------------------------------------
I’ve become very talented at paper shuffling since Vancouver is currently experiencing a trucking strike.
My job is dependent on container shipping, as no containers are being moved due to no trucks driving them to our facility, I have very little to do.
Well, you might say, you could clean and file and update records.
Uh…no.
You see, when I actually do have something to do, I’m very efficient at it, so I’m not behind.
Ah, but your co-workers, you press on.
They’re in the same boat, so to speak.
Thus, I blog and blog with relative impunity.
And I am happy.
I can’t actually LEAVE for the day, anyway.
But that isn’t so bad, the weather here in Vancouver has been dodgy at best (it’s only July, after all), so I'm better off at my desk, warm and dry and happily blogging.
----------------------------------------
I cleaned my apartment yesterday, not quite from top to bottom, but as close as I ever get to it.
I cranked up some old school Arrowsmith (I know, I know, even their modern stuff is already ‘old school’) and rocked out to “Dude Looks Like a Lady” while scrubbing my toilet.
I wonder what the neighbours think when I do that?
Normally I’m an extremely quiet person, listening sedately to chamber music whilst making a healthy dinner for myself to enjoy while watching documentaries I’ve rented from the library.
(OMG. It’s true! I really DO do that. Oh, what you must think of me!
Oh well, at least I don’t also have several cats that curl around my legs while I eat my dinner at the coffee ta... NEVERMIND!)
----------------------------------------
UBIQUITOUS.
It’s a word that just doesn’t get used enough in everyday conversation.
Really.
It ought to be used till it, too, is ubiquitous.
----------------------------------------
AND...I have nothing else to say at this time.
Stay tuned!
If this strike doesn’t end soon, you may see more of this random gibberish by yours truly.
Signing off now before it gets really bad,
Tai the Inane
Monday, July 04, 2005
Loooong weekend.
It seems that this was a very looong weekend indeed.
Friday was our 'Canada Day' holiday, which of course means a glorious day off from work!
I did so much this weekend, but it's all kind of melting itself into a big pool of stuff in my head...
Hmmm, let me ponder for a moment.
My weekend involved (to varying degrees) sushi, jazz, Samuel L. Jackson, oysters (raw AND cooked), a pregnancy (not mine...Congrats again, Nish'!), Chinese fusion food, police, Italian lessons, car towing, the 'Mermaid Room', a missed lunch with a friend, (sorry Deb!), and the Vancouver Public Library.
whew...no wonder I'm so tired today!
This work thing is getting in the way of my social life!
Hope all you good blog readers had a lovely Canada Day, and to those American neighbors of ours, have a nice 'Independence Day' celebration...watch out for those pesky space ships.
Friday was our 'Canada Day' holiday, which of course means a glorious day off from work!
I did so much this weekend, but it's all kind of melting itself into a big pool of stuff in my head...
Hmmm, let me ponder for a moment.
My weekend involved (to varying degrees) sushi, jazz, Samuel L. Jackson, oysters (raw AND cooked), a pregnancy (not mine...Congrats again, Nish'!), Chinese fusion food, police, Italian lessons, car towing, the 'Mermaid Room', a missed lunch with a friend, (sorry Deb!), and the Vancouver Public Library.
whew...no wonder I'm so tired today!
This work thing is getting in the way of my social life!
Hope all you good blog readers had a lovely Canada Day, and to those American neighbors of ours, have a nice 'Independence Day' celebration...watch out for those pesky space ships.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Holiday! HUZZAH!
Well, I'm off for a few days...I've got somethings to celebrate, so I thought I'd do it by going home to lovely Vancouver Island, BC.
Things to celebrate include:
My BIRTHDAY (just passed) 33 years on this planet...not bad considering I thought I'd be expired by 26.
BUT BEST OF ALL...
It's been officially 1 YEAR TODAY that I QUIT SMOKING!!!
And believe me, that's something to CELEBRATE!
It was a bit of a struggle at first (as one would expect), but now, it's smoooth sailing!
YAY ME!
So, if work isn't to chaotic when I return on Wednesday, I'll blog away, but don't get your hopes up...my desk reverts to a natural state of disorganization the minute I leave it alone for more than 3 hours.
Ugh.
Things to celebrate include:
My BIRTHDAY (just passed) 33 years on this planet...not bad considering I thought I'd be expired by 26.
BUT BEST OF ALL...
It's been officially 1 YEAR TODAY that I QUIT SMOKING!!!
And believe me, that's something to CELEBRATE!
It was a bit of a struggle at first (as one would expect), but now, it's smoooth sailing!
YAY ME!
So, if work isn't to chaotic when I return on Wednesday, I'll blog away, but don't get your hopes up...my desk reverts to a natural state of disorganization the minute I leave it alone for more than 3 hours.
Ugh.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Now HERE'S a thought...
"The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek."
~ Joseph Campbell
I love Joseph Campbell. He was, indeed, a truly wise man.
Now, let's consider closely that idea.
Interestingly, the treasure that he's speaking about may be, simply, the overcoming of your fear in the first place!
How lovely!
Now, while my fears aren't many, the ones I have are big deep black caves, designed to swallow little girls like me up, never to be seen again!
What do I fear?
I fear to say!
Amongst friends, I'm generally considered fearless...
Well, I guess that, in and of itself is a fear, isn't it?
I fear people seeing me as less than in control and in charge.
You know, the vulnerable, wimpy side of me.
Admitting it is half the battle right?
I guess now I just have to cry in front of someone to get 'the treasure I seek.' Or tissue, as the case may be!
Okay, that's one down.
NEXT!
Uh, on second thought, that's enough for today.
Anything more is too scary.
~ Joseph Campbell
I love Joseph Campbell. He was, indeed, a truly wise man.
Now, let's consider closely that idea.
Interestingly, the treasure that he's speaking about may be, simply, the overcoming of your fear in the first place!
How lovely!
Now, while my fears aren't many, the ones I have are big deep black caves, designed to swallow little girls like me up, never to be seen again!
What do I fear?
I fear to say!
Amongst friends, I'm generally considered fearless...
Well, I guess that, in and of itself is a fear, isn't it?
I fear people seeing me as less than in control and in charge.
You know, the vulnerable, wimpy side of me.
Admitting it is half the battle right?
I guess now I just have to cry in front of someone to get 'the treasure I seek.' Or tissue, as the case may be!
Okay, that's one down.
NEXT!
Uh, on second thought, that's enough for today.
Anything more is too scary.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Honest! I haven't fallen off the face of the earth!
But you want to know what I HAVE been doing?
I've been reading so many other peoples blogs it's starting to make my head swim a bit, and that's the LAST thing I really need!
There are SO many good blogs out there, so many interesting people with interesting lives and thoughtful things to say about the world.
BUT I found a site that's a little creepy...I read some of it, and boy, did I ever feel like I needed to take a shower afterwards.
Here, I'll share:
http://notproud.com/
Go.
Read.
Feel dark and confused and muzzy from what goes on in peoples heads out in this big old world.
I've been reading so many other peoples blogs it's starting to make my head swim a bit, and that's the LAST thing I really need!
There are SO many good blogs out there, so many interesting people with interesting lives and thoughtful things to say about the world.
BUT I found a site that's a little creepy...I read some of it, and boy, did I ever feel like I needed to take a shower afterwards.
Here, I'll share:
http://notproud.com/
Go.
Read.
Feel dark and confused and muzzy from what goes on in peoples heads out in this big old world.
Monday, June 20, 2005
It's already weird enough as it is!
I was going to retell the tale of Lot here.
You know, the one about the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and bad, bad Lots' wife who turned into a pillar of salt 'cus she wouldn't listen to her husband, but the story is awful enough on it's own with out requiring much adjustment.
Let's look at it for a moment, shall we?
God doesn't care much for homosexuality, which apparently the lovely cities S&G are replete with.
So he sends some angels down to check it out, and hang with Lot while they suss the place out.
While the angels are there, some of the village men want to rape them.
Well! Lot won't have anything to do with that, no sir!
Instead, like a good host, he offers up his virginal daughters to the mob of men for use and abuse.
Oh, but wait, it just gets better from here!
So anyway, the angels prevent the rape of Lot's daughters from happening, but they tell Lot to scram out of the city, 'cus god is going to do what he does best...smote smote smote and smote some more!!
No one believes Lot except for his two daughters and his wife, so they high tail it for the hills...everything is going well except Lots' wife turns back (of course), and is immediately turned into a pillar of salt.
(Why a pillar of salt? I don't know. What could the reasoning possibly be?)
So anyway, she's suddenly (and conveniently, I might add) out of the picture.
Eventually Lot and kids make it to a cave and hide out there.
With lots of wine.
Lots and lots of wine.
Note to self:
When fleeing from god's smoting, don't forget to take the wine!
The girls get bored, so they come up with a cunning plan.
As they are the only females left on the face of the planet, they really need to get started repopulating the world, right?
Yeah, that's what they thought.
So.
This is what they do.
The first night, they get dad REALLY drunk. Then one of them has sex with him.
Lots' a lush, so he doesn't remember being a victim of incestuous rape the night before.
Day two.
Get dad drunk again, so second daughter gets a go! Wheee!
And then they both have sons who go on to become famous and influential leaders, (presumably they were able to hide the webbed feet and extra teeth.)
Moral of the story:
Wine will help you save the world as long as your not gay.
Anything is better than gay, even incest.
And rape is fine, as long as the parties are different sexes.
And moral decrepitude is generally permissible (without the gayness, of course.)
You know, the one about the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and bad, bad Lots' wife who turned into a pillar of salt 'cus she wouldn't listen to her husband, but the story is awful enough on it's own with out requiring much adjustment.
Let's look at it for a moment, shall we?
God doesn't care much for homosexuality, which apparently the lovely cities S&G are replete with.
So he sends some angels down to check it out, and hang with Lot while they suss the place out.
While the angels are there, some of the village men want to rape them.
Well! Lot won't have anything to do with that, no sir!
Instead, like a good host, he offers up his virginal daughters to the mob of men for use and abuse.
Oh, but wait, it just gets better from here!
So anyway, the angels prevent the rape of Lot's daughters from happening, but they tell Lot to scram out of the city, 'cus god is going to do what he does best...smote smote smote and smote some more!!
No one believes Lot except for his two daughters and his wife, so they high tail it for the hills...everything is going well except Lots' wife turns back (of course), and is immediately turned into a pillar of salt.
(Why a pillar of salt? I don't know. What could the reasoning possibly be?)
So anyway, she's suddenly (and conveniently, I might add) out of the picture.
Eventually Lot and kids make it to a cave and hide out there.
With lots of wine.
Lots and lots of wine.
Note to self:
When fleeing from god's smoting, don't forget to take the wine!
The girls get bored, so they come up with a cunning plan.
As they are the only females left on the face of the planet, they really need to get started repopulating the world, right?
Yeah, that's what they thought.
So.
This is what they do.
The first night, they get dad REALLY drunk. Then one of them has sex with him.
Lots' a lush, so he doesn't remember being a victim of incestuous rape the night before.
Day two.
Get dad drunk again, so second daughter gets a go! Wheee!
And then they both have sons who go on to become famous and influential leaders, (presumably they were able to hide the webbed feet and extra teeth.)
Moral of the story:
Wine will help you save the world as long as your not gay.
Anything is better than gay, even incest.
And rape is fine, as long as the parties are different sexes.
And moral decrepitude is generally permissible (without the gayness, of course.)
Buon compleanno a me!
And many happy returns to me, too!
Apologies to those of you who wait in eager anticipation of my blog being updated regularly, I've been laid low by lethargy and anemia.
(And for the rest of you, I apologize for my suddenly enlarged ego!)
I think age will do that to you though (enlarge the ego that is)...after a certain point in time, you give up on false modesty and insecurities and just BE.
Really though, I haven't done any deep reflecting on my birthday or aging at all.
I LIKE birthdays, and enjoy the well wishes that come my way, but I pay no nevermind to the bit about getting older.
And anyway...I'm not getting OLDER, I'm getting BETTER!!! And I firmly believe that.
Speaking of birthdays...a hardy welcome to:
http://www.bathtubspider.blogspot.com/
Many congratulations on a brand new baby blog!
OH!
I cut my hair SHORT (and upon doing so my hair suddenly, and with great gusto, went VERY curly.)
I colored it as well, and now (according to a friend) I resemble Goldilocks' evil sister.
Black ringlets instead of blond.
Somehow it seems appropriate.
Apologies to those of you who wait in eager anticipation of my blog being updated regularly, I've been laid low by lethargy and anemia.
(And for the rest of you, I apologize for my suddenly enlarged ego!)
I think age will do that to you though (enlarge the ego that is)...after a certain point in time, you give up on false modesty and insecurities and just BE.
Really though, I haven't done any deep reflecting on my birthday or aging at all.
I LIKE birthdays, and enjoy the well wishes that come my way, but I pay no nevermind to the bit about getting older.
And anyway...I'm not getting OLDER, I'm getting BETTER!!! And I firmly believe that.
Speaking of birthdays...a hardy welcome to:
http://www.bathtubspider.blogspot.com/
Many congratulations on a brand new baby blog!
OH!
I cut my hair SHORT (and upon doing so my hair suddenly, and with great gusto, went VERY curly.)
I colored it as well, and now (according to a friend) I resemble Goldilocks' evil sister.
Black ringlets instead of blond.
Somehow it seems appropriate.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Oh BOY! Infinitive verbs!
I’ve decided to take up learning Italian as a hobby.
I need a good hobby besides reading, because while reading is fabulous, it’s a passive type of self education.
Instead, I’ll be actively learning something, which will prevent my brain from atrophying and oozing out my ears in a disagreeable manner.
I am amazed that at one point, I actually got REALLY excited about verb usage. (I’m not kidding…honestly, I leapt up and grabbed my workbook to make notes. Yes. I have a workbook.)
Generally, I'm really rather hostile to that kind of thing.
Through school I was the kid that was staring off into space imaging what my pirate ship would look like, and how many long haired cabin boys I would have.
(Hey, it WAS the eighties. Jon Bon Jovi ROCKED! I would have had him on my ship. Not now though, his hair is to short and he's cleaned up his act. Won't do at all. I've heard that Tommy Lee is free though, and as I too, hail from the Comox Valley as does Ms. Anderson, do you think...ew. Never mind.)
The teacher struggled (in vain of course) to get some French past participles lodged in my skull…but I resisted, and in the end, I won the battle.
"Vive le resistance!!"
(ooops, okay, you got one past me Mr. Philips...but rest assured...it will not happen again.)
Uh, rest in peace Mr. Philps, you really did do your best.
It's definately not a reflection of your teaching abilities, merely a statement to my willful ignorance and determined non-bilingulism.
I've changed my ways, really I have!
So, very soon, I expect (through my own expert tutelage) that I shall be completly fluent, and will be blogging away in Italian for all of those in bella Roma who eagerly await the day.
Desidero!!
I need a good hobby besides reading, because while reading is fabulous, it’s a passive type of self education.
Instead, I’ll be actively learning something, which will prevent my brain from atrophying and oozing out my ears in a disagreeable manner.
I am amazed that at one point, I actually got REALLY excited about verb usage. (I’m not kidding…honestly, I leapt up and grabbed my workbook to make notes. Yes. I have a workbook.)
Generally, I'm really rather hostile to that kind of thing.
Through school I was the kid that was staring off into space imaging what my pirate ship would look like, and how many long haired cabin boys I would have.
(Hey, it WAS the eighties. Jon Bon Jovi ROCKED! I would have had him on my ship. Not now though, his hair is to short and he's cleaned up his act. Won't do at all. I've heard that Tommy Lee is free though, and as I too, hail from the Comox Valley as does Ms. Anderson, do you think...ew. Never mind.)
The teacher struggled (in vain of course) to get some French past participles lodged in my skull…but I resisted, and in the end, I won the battle.
"Vive le resistance!!"
(ooops, okay, you got one past me Mr. Philips...but rest assured...it will not happen again.)
Uh, rest in peace Mr. Philps, you really did do your best.
It's definately not a reflection of your teaching abilities, merely a statement to my willful ignorance and determined non-bilingulism.
I've changed my ways, really I have!
So, very soon, I expect (through my own expert tutelage) that I shall be completly fluent, and will be blogging away in Italian for all of those in bella Roma who eagerly await the day.
Desidero!!
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Exciting weekend, but not in a good way.
There's an old curse that seems applicable at this time...
"May you live in interesting times."
Well, this weekend certainly has been interesting...it started with my dear friend being laid low by an unruly appendix and large intestine, and ended with my dear little cat (the one that aforementioned "stupid idiot boy" 'lent' to me) breaking her wee leg.
Well, Jennye's on the road to recovery, though off work time will be 2 weeks or more, and Attessa is currently at the vet being repaired.
I really could live WITHOUT those kind of interesting times!
(Cheers Jen, you'll be belly dancing in no time, with a great scar to add mystery and intrigue to your dance!)
"May you live in interesting times."
Well, this weekend certainly has been interesting...it started with my dear friend being laid low by an unruly appendix and large intestine, and ended with my dear little cat (the one that aforementioned "stupid idiot boy" 'lent' to me) breaking her wee leg.
Well, Jennye's on the road to recovery, though off work time will be 2 weeks or more, and Attessa is currently at the vet being repaired.
I really could live WITHOUT those kind of interesting times!
(Cheers Jen, you'll be belly dancing in no time, with a great scar to add mystery and intrigue to your dance!)
Friday, June 10, 2005
I really don't like cilantro!
My girlfriend and I were discussing men and relationships the other night, and more specifically our general taste in men.
She was wondering how come she could really like a mans' ability to make her laugh, and think and feel generally special, but still have no interest in him.
Well, of course, there’s lots of reasons that could happen, but then the real point of the matter came out.
“He’s not very attractive…am I THAT shallow that I can’t appreciate a man’s other qualities without that getting in the way!?!” She was very disappointed in herself.
The only analogy I could come up with was, “Well, not everyone likes cilantro! Taste is taste is taste, and I really don’t think that it’s anyone’s fault if you’re not physically attracted to someone!”
More specifically, am I a shallow person if a handsome man hits on me but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is “Duuh, you’re purdy.”
I require intelligence, that’s paramount. I refuse to believe that my requirement for brains would make me a shallow person.
So, in the same breath, I must refuse to believe that not liking someone’s physical appearance isn't also perfectly acceptable.
On the OTHER hand...men often get chastised severely for expressing their requirements in a woman, particularly if they are physical requirements.
I wonder why the double standard?
Huh.
Oh well, I don’t like cilantro and I refuse to feel bad about it.
And I don’t like Brad Pitts’ looks either. pffft.
What a horrid beast I am.
She was wondering how come she could really like a mans' ability to make her laugh, and think and feel generally special, but still have no interest in him.
Well, of course, there’s lots of reasons that could happen, but then the real point of the matter came out.
“He’s not very attractive…am I THAT shallow that I can’t appreciate a man’s other qualities without that getting in the way!?!” She was very disappointed in herself.
The only analogy I could come up with was, “Well, not everyone likes cilantro! Taste is taste is taste, and I really don’t think that it’s anyone’s fault if you’re not physically attracted to someone!”
More specifically, am I a shallow person if a handsome man hits on me but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is “Duuh, you’re purdy.”
I require intelligence, that’s paramount. I refuse to believe that my requirement for brains would make me a shallow person.
So, in the same breath, I must refuse to believe that not liking someone’s physical appearance isn't also perfectly acceptable.
On the OTHER hand...men often get chastised severely for expressing their requirements in a woman, particularly if they are physical requirements.
I wonder why the double standard?
Huh.
Oh well, I don’t like cilantro and I refuse to feel bad about it.
And I don’t like Brad Pitts’ looks either. pffft.
What a horrid beast I am.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Now, I'm not saying I'm a prude...
…but I was flicking through channels the other day and happened to notice what looked like a live sex show, right there on the old tv...Je suis choqué!!
I mean, there were men touching themselves through their boxer shorts, and women in next to nothing lingerie rolling around on top of other women in less than next to nothing lingerie and OH!
Over there on the other bed was a women on her knees in front of a man (hmmm, I wonder what they were 'pretending' to do!)
Hmmm. I didn’t think they were allowed to show this stuff on the telly, really…
HEY!
I know that brunette up there singing away and masturbating...
It’s…Brittany Spears!
Really, I’m NOT a prude, but…uh…people are taking their 10 year old daughters to that!
I know…I know…I managed to live through Cher and her thong, Madonna with her pointy-breasted self-touching show, not to mention Tiffany(!), without turning into a mindless slut, but Ms. Spears Miami show struck even me as way over the top.
I know what’s going on here!
I’m getting old and crotchety.
Damn.
I mean, there were men touching themselves through their boxer shorts, and women in next to nothing lingerie rolling around on top of other women in less than next to nothing lingerie and OH!
Over there on the other bed was a women on her knees in front of a man (hmmm, I wonder what they were 'pretending' to do!)
Hmmm. I didn’t think they were allowed to show this stuff on the telly, really…
HEY!
I know that brunette up there singing away and masturbating...
It’s…Brittany Spears!
Really, I’m NOT a prude, but…uh…people are taking their 10 year old daughters to that!
I know…I know…I managed to live through Cher and her thong, Madonna with her pointy-breasted self-touching show, not to mention Tiffany(!), without turning into a mindless slut, but Ms. Spears Miami show struck even me as way over the top.
I know what’s going on here!
I’m getting old and crotchety.
Damn.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
The Dodo Club
(Because I’m fairly new, I have to point this out ‘cus I find it VERY exciting…if you click on the title of this blog, it’ll TAKE YOU THERE!! So cool.)
So. Anyway. On with the show here.
As a child, I was hooked up with this particular club…”The DODO CLUB”. Man, it was great.
We (Jennye and I, of course) would pile our pennies together, and rush down to the post office to have the lady (it was always a ‘lady’ back then. Not a woman or man. “The Postal Lady.” It was a title. You could apply…) but I digress...you asked the Postal Lady to please make a money order out to the tune of 7 pounds, because it was going to England, and they use pounds there, not ‘dollars’ isn’t that weird? I wonder if their money is heavier and that’s why they call them pounds?? Yeah, right.
And then we would have to (get this) MAIL IT(!) to England.
No e-mail credit card stuff then, no sir.
These were the old days, waaaay before this 'internet' thingy-ma-jiggy…and credit cards! HA! I don’t think my parents even had a checking account!
Which might go a long way to explain my current aversion to credit cards, I mean, some anonymous company doling out credit to complete strangers. Hello!?!
And checks!? What good are they, they’re not even real money! Well in MY day…
Anyway. “The Dodo Club” is devoted to the conservation of rare and endangered animals via a ‘zoo’ (though I do hate to call them that, but I can't think of a better word at the moment) on Jersey in the Channel Islands created by Mr. Durrell.
Great club.
They would mail out a monthly newsletter (monthly or was it quarterly?) with all sorts of information and tidbits about the daily destruction of the planet and how the human race was responsible for the demise of thousands of species of animals (well, okay, they didn’t actually say any of that.
But I was 9, I could read between the lines!)
AND they had a ‘pen pal’ section.
So I had a PEN PAL.
She was from Hungary (Debrecen) which I thought was fabulous because I’m half Hungarian on my fathers’ side, although he was born in Canada…and so was I.
BUT I always thought it was so exotic and mysterious…in my mind, I was half a gypsy princess, whisked out of Hungary due to the turmoil of the country, and that when I was old enough I would be returned to my rightful throne to rebuild the country to it’s former glory and power!!!
Well, you never know!
Maybe one day soon the next newspaper headline you see will read, “QUEEN TAI RETURNED TO THRONE!!! THE COUNTRY REJOICES!”
I’m have a hard time keeping on track here…okay, my pen pal’s name was Agota Vinczeffy (it was close to that…c’mon, I was 9).
I wonder what ever happened to her. I was very diligent in writing to her. She wasn’t diligent in responding.
Since then, I’ve gone to Hungary, but I never went to Debrecen. I discovered cheap beer and that the country wasn’t in that much turmoil. How could they be, with beer that cheap!!
I still think I would have made a rockin’ Queen though.
I would have sent lots of money to “The Dodo Club” if I WAS queen, believe me!
So. Anyway. On with the show here.
As a child, I was hooked up with this particular club…”The DODO CLUB”. Man, it was great.
We (Jennye and I, of course) would pile our pennies together, and rush down to the post office to have the lady (it was always a ‘lady’ back then. Not a woman or man. “The Postal Lady.” It was a title. You could apply…) but I digress...you asked the Postal Lady to please make a money order out to the tune of 7 pounds, because it was going to England, and they use pounds there, not ‘dollars’ isn’t that weird? I wonder if their money is heavier and that’s why they call them pounds?? Yeah, right.
And then we would have to (get this) MAIL IT(!) to England.
No e-mail credit card stuff then, no sir.
These were the old days, waaaay before this 'internet' thingy-ma-jiggy…and credit cards! HA! I don’t think my parents even had a checking account!
Which might go a long way to explain my current aversion to credit cards, I mean, some anonymous company doling out credit to complete strangers. Hello!?!
And checks!? What good are they, they’re not even real money! Well in MY day…
Anyway. “The Dodo Club” is devoted to the conservation of rare and endangered animals via a ‘zoo’ (though I do hate to call them that, but I can't think of a better word at the moment) on Jersey in the Channel Islands created by Mr. Durrell.
Great club.
They would mail out a monthly newsletter (monthly or was it quarterly?) with all sorts of information and tidbits about the daily destruction of the planet and how the human race was responsible for the demise of thousands of species of animals (well, okay, they didn’t actually say any of that.
But I was 9, I could read between the lines!)
AND they had a ‘pen pal’ section.
So I had a PEN PAL.
She was from Hungary (Debrecen) which I thought was fabulous because I’m half Hungarian on my fathers’ side, although he was born in Canada…and so was I.
BUT I always thought it was so exotic and mysterious…in my mind, I was half a gypsy princess, whisked out of Hungary due to the turmoil of the country, and that when I was old enough I would be returned to my rightful throne to rebuild the country to it’s former glory and power!!!
Well, you never know!
Maybe one day soon the next newspaper headline you see will read, “QUEEN TAI RETURNED TO THRONE!!! THE COUNTRY REJOICES!”
I’m have a hard time keeping on track here…okay, my pen pal’s name was Agota Vinczeffy (it was close to that…c’mon, I was 9).
I wonder what ever happened to her. I was very diligent in writing to her. She wasn’t diligent in responding.
Since then, I’ve gone to Hungary, but I never went to Debrecen. I discovered cheap beer and that the country wasn’t in that much turmoil. How could they be, with beer that cheap!!
I still think I would have made a rockin’ Queen though.
I would have sent lots of money to “The Dodo Club” if I WAS queen, believe me!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
The Story of Job, as retold by Tai. With NO apologies. *
"1 There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was blameless and upright, one who feared God, and turned away from evil. 2 There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. 3 He had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she-asses, and very many servants; so that this man was the greatest of all the people of the east."
And that’s were it all began to go seriously wrong.
So, God and Lucifer were chilling out at God’s crib when Lucifer pulled God aside and suggested a bet.
“Hey, big ‘G’,” Lucifer grinned a pointy grin, “What say you and I have a wager, a little joke on Job, say.”
“Oh, I don’t know…I like Job. He does exactly what he’s supposed to and he’s really quite obsequious. I like that.”
“That’s only because you give him everything he wants,” Lucifer pointed out, “You let me have a little fun with him, and I swear, ‘he will curse thee to thy face’."
“You really think so? Well, okay. Off you go. But I just don’t believe it!” So God sent Lucifer off to turn some nasty tricks on poor unsuspecting Job.
The next thing Job knows, ALL of his she-asses, camels, oxen, sheep AND servants were all slain.
Gone.
'Smote' even.
And that's not to mention every single one of his kids annihilated.
But Job didn’t get mad, oh no, he didn’t even flinch!
He just prayed to God and said, “Thanks God…I didn’t need all that stuff anyway.”
God laughed and laughed at Lucifer…”I told you! I told you! Job totally rocks. There’s no WAY he’d ever be pissed off with me.”
“Humph. Well obviously I went easy on him. Let’s have another go, shall we? I know, I’ll scourge his flesh or something. That’ll annoy him.
“Oh, fine. Just don’t kill him. I like Job.” God sighed and waved Lucifer away.
So Lucifer went back down to Job’s place and inflicted some loathsome little sores on him from head to toe.
Not to mention the running scabs.
Even Job’s wife was like, “Wow, God must really be choked with you. You should totally renounce him.”
Job just wept a little, cursed his wife and sat on some ashes.
His friends eventually showed up, and even they didn't know what to say.
They didn’t offer any help or anything, but there was a lot of rending of garments and weeping.
Well, then Job SNAPPED!
That was it. He was finally totally pissed off.
“God, you SUCK! What did I ever do to you? C’mon, look at me. My whole family is dead. I’m like, totally unattractive to my wife and friends. Geez! I’ve had it. I hereby renounce you.” He yelled, shaking his scabby fist in the air.
Actually, he went on and on and on about his ‘groanings pouring out like water’, and ‘longing for death that doesn’t come’. Really quite pitiful, but you could hardly blame the guy, really.
I mean, look at what happened!
And, to quote Job a little further, “My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt; my skin hardens, then breaks out afresh.”
Eew.
So after a while of this, God finally tunes in to what’s going on, (thanks to Lucifer’s strutting around saying, “Who’s your DADDY!?! WHO’S yo’ DADDY!!” **), and WOW, was God ever choked.
Meanwhile, Job was still complaining when God showed up, full fury.
“HEY! YOU!” He yelled at Job, “Who do you think you ARE!?!”
Job looked up and freaked out, “Oh, uh...God, it’s you! Uh…uh...”
“Yeah, I heard you whining away down here, and I’m not very happy about it. I mean, seriously Job. I AM God. And you’re not. What do you think you're doing, talkin' smack about me?!”
“Well, I hate to be pedantic, but look what happened to me!!” Job rolled around in the ashes a bit to re affirm his current and unpleasant lot in life.
“I loathe my life; I will give free utterance to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.” He continued, just in case God missed the point.
God proceeded to yell at Job for a while, about Ostriches, "The wings of the ostrich wave proudly; but are they the pinions and plumage of love? For she leaves her eggs to the earth, and lets them be warmed on the ground, forgetting that a foot may crush them, and that the wild beast may trample them. She deals cruelly with her young, as if they were not hers; though her labor be in vain, yet she has no fear; because God has made her forget wisdom, and given her no share in understanding. When she rouses herself to flee, she laughs at the horse and his rider.”
Job didn’t really get the point of that, but he didn’t fail to get it that God was royally annoyed with him, and he’d better make peace, ‘cus when God starts talking about opening a can of whoop ass on you, you’d better make your apologies, and right quick.
"I know that thou canst do all things, and that no purpose of thine can be thwarted. Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge? Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”
Basically, Job just completely did a full recant on the “I hate my life,” and was being his old obsequious self.
Which pleased God a lot, because he gave Job more oxen and camels and servants than he ever had before.
Not to mention a new and improved family!
Oh, and then Job got to live to the ripe old age of one hundred and forty years old.
The moral of the story?
Fawning sycophant...it's the only way to go!
*In fact, I even RESEARCHED this stuff! All italicized quotes are taken directly from 'The Source'. (just in case you were curious!)
You should look up the story of Job yourself, you'll that see my version is much more entertaining!
Here, go have some fun finding my quotes!
http://eawc.evansville.edu/anthology/job.htm
** okay, that's not a legit quote, but it's damn funny (see first asterix)
And that’s were it all began to go seriously wrong.
So, God and Lucifer were chilling out at God’s crib when Lucifer pulled God aside and suggested a bet.
“Hey, big ‘G’,” Lucifer grinned a pointy grin, “What say you and I have a wager, a little joke on Job, say.”
“Oh, I don’t know…I like Job. He does exactly what he’s supposed to and he’s really quite obsequious. I like that.”
“That’s only because you give him everything he wants,” Lucifer pointed out, “You let me have a little fun with him, and I swear, ‘he will curse thee to thy face’."
“You really think so? Well, okay. Off you go. But I just don’t believe it!” So God sent Lucifer off to turn some nasty tricks on poor unsuspecting Job.
The next thing Job knows, ALL of his she-asses, camels, oxen, sheep AND servants were all slain.
Gone.
'Smote' even.
And that's not to mention every single one of his kids annihilated.
But Job didn’t get mad, oh no, he didn’t even flinch!
He just prayed to God and said, “Thanks God…I didn’t need all that stuff anyway.”
God laughed and laughed at Lucifer…”I told you! I told you! Job totally rocks. There’s no WAY he’d ever be pissed off with me.”
“Humph. Well obviously I went easy on him. Let’s have another go, shall we? I know, I’ll scourge his flesh or something. That’ll annoy him.
“Oh, fine. Just don’t kill him. I like Job.” God sighed and waved Lucifer away.
So Lucifer went back down to Job’s place and inflicted some loathsome little sores on him from head to toe.
Not to mention the running scabs.
Even Job’s wife was like, “Wow, God must really be choked with you. You should totally renounce him.”
Job just wept a little, cursed his wife and sat on some ashes.
His friends eventually showed up, and even they didn't know what to say.
They didn’t offer any help or anything, but there was a lot of rending of garments and weeping.
Well, then Job SNAPPED!
That was it. He was finally totally pissed off.
“God, you SUCK! What did I ever do to you? C’mon, look at me. My whole family is dead. I’m like, totally unattractive to my wife and friends. Geez! I’ve had it. I hereby renounce you.” He yelled, shaking his scabby fist in the air.
Actually, he went on and on and on about his ‘groanings pouring out like water’, and ‘longing for death that doesn’t come’. Really quite pitiful, but you could hardly blame the guy, really.
I mean, look at what happened!
And, to quote Job a little further, “My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt; my skin hardens, then breaks out afresh.”
Eew.
So after a while of this, God finally tunes in to what’s going on, (thanks to Lucifer’s strutting around saying, “Who’s your DADDY!?! WHO’S yo’ DADDY!!” **), and WOW, was God ever choked.
Meanwhile, Job was still complaining when God showed up, full fury.
“HEY! YOU!” He yelled at Job, “Who do you think you ARE!?!”
Job looked up and freaked out, “Oh, uh...God, it’s you! Uh…uh...”
“Yeah, I heard you whining away down here, and I’m not very happy about it. I mean, seriously Job. I AM God. And you’re not. What do you think you're doing, talkin' smack about me?!”
“Well, I hate to be pedantic, but look what happened to me!!” Job rolled around in the ashes a bit to re affirm his current and unpleasant lot in life.
“I loathe my life; I will give free utterance to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.” He continued, just in case God missed the point.
God proceeded to yell at Job for a while, about Ostriches, "The wings of the ostrich wave proudly; but are they the pinions and plumage of love? For she leaves her eggs to the earth, and lets them be warmed on the ground, forgetting that a foot may crush them, and that the wild beast may trample them. She deals cruelly with her young, as if they were not hers; though her labor be in vain, yet she has no fear; because God has made her forget wisdom, and given her no share in understanding. When she rouses herself to flee, she laughs at the horse and his rider.”
Job didn’t really get the point of that, but he didn’t fail to get it that God was royally annoyed with him, and he’d better make peace, ‘cus when God starts talking about opening a can of whoop ass on you, you’d better make your apologies, and right quick.
"I know that thou canst do all things, and that no purpose of thine can be thwarted. Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge? Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”
Basically, Job just completely did a full recant on the “I hate my life,” and was being his old obsequious self.
Which pleased God a lot, because he gave Job more oxen and camels and servants than he ever had before.
Not to mention a new and improved family!
Oh, and then Job got to live to the ripe old age of one hundred and forty years old.
The moral of the story?
Fawning sycophant...it's the only way to go!
*In fact, I even RESEARCHED this stuff! All italicized quotes are taken directly from 'The Source'. (just in case you were curious!)
You should look up the story of Job yourself, you'll that see my version is much more entertaining!
Here, go have some fun finding my quotes!
http://eawc.evansville.edu/anthology/job.htm
** okay, that's not a legit quote, but it's damn funny (see first asterix)
Monday, June 06, 2005
I guess no one warned them about me.
They (meaning my unsuspecting company) just trained ME in the handling of dangerous goods and hazardous materials!
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
"Excuse me young lady, just where are you going with that semi-trailer of hazardous materials?" Says the unsuspecting officer.
"Oh, it's okay sir, I'm CERTIFIED!" I say, dazzling him with my big brown eyes.
"Ah, well, carry on. Drive safe!"
"Oh, yes sir. That's just about the only thing on my mind...driving safe."
Mwahahahahahaha!!!!
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
"Excuse me young lady, just where are you going with that semi-trailer of hazardous materials?" Says the unsuspecting officer.
"Oh, it's okay sir, I'm CERTIFIED!" I say, dazzling him with my big brown eyes.
"Ah, well, carry on. Drive safe!"
"Oh, yes sir. That's just about the only thing on my mind...driving safe."
Mwahahahahahaha!!!!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Oh, that's so sad...
Yes, I joke about being a 'crazy cat lady', but truly, this is a grievious state of affairs, and I will never EVER end up like this.
And if I ever DO start to show true 'crazy cat lady' tendencies, I would hope that my dear friends would intervene at cat number 20 or 30, and present me with this article to knock some sense into me.
But, oh, it really does make me feel sad.
And if I ever DO start to show true 'crazy cat lady' tendencies, I would hope that my dear friends would intervene at cat number 20 or 30, and present me with this article to knock some sense into me.
But, oh, it really does make me feel sad.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
The New Zealand Wine Festival.
And a good time was had by all!
http://www.stoneleigh.co.nz/
http://www.oysterbaywines.com/flash/flash_content/index.html
http://www.new-zealand-wines.com/
http://www.kimcrawfordwines.co.nz/
There were some lovely sauvignon blancs, not the least of which Gravitas represented...but for a relatively inexpensive sav blanc though, the Stoneleigh makes a very nice, very drinkable summer white (their Chardonnay is very good too!)
Each of the 45 or so agents only had 3 different wines on display, the sauvignon blanc, chardonnay and a pinot noir, so the selections were limited, but it's a really good way to sample a really specific type of wine from a very specific part of the world.
My favorite? The roasted New Zealand lamb with mint jelly, of course!
But seriously...I really enjoyed all the Oyster Bay offerings. The seem to have made the most impact.
(Mmmm, but the 10 year old Cockburn's Tawny Port I had afterwards, in the lounge of the Four Seasons Hotel really topped the evening.)
Ah, bliss!
Oh, and I wore my new hat, and my, didn't I feel just like Audrey Hepburn!
http://www.stoneleigh.co.nz/
http://www.oysterbaywines.com/flash/flash_content/index.html
http://www.new-zealand-wines.com/
http://www.kimcrawfordwines.co.nz/
There were some lovely sauvignon blancs, not the least of which Gravitas represented...but for a relatively inexpensive sav blanc though, the Stoneleigh makes a very nice, very drinkable summer white (their Chardonnay is very good too!)
Each of the 45 or so agents only had 3 different wines on display, the sauvignon blanc, chardonnay and a pinot noir, so the selections were limited, but it's a really good way to sample a really specific type of wine from a very specific part of the world.
My favorite? The roasted New Zealand lamb with mint jelly, of course!
But seriously...I really enjoyed all the Oyster Bay offerings. The seem to have made the most impact.
(Mmmm, but the 10 year old Cockburn's Tawny Port I had afterwards, in the lounge of the Four Seasons Hotel really topped the evening.)
Ah, bliss!
Oh, and I wore my new hat, and my, didn't I feel just like Audrey Hepburn!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Clean keyboard leads to inspiration.
Okay, I'm not THAT inspired at this very moment, but I can tell that good things, NAY! ... GREAT things will transpire now that I've cleaned the black gunk and weirdness off of my keyboard!
It's like I've got a new lease on life or something!
Alright, at the very least, I don't feel nauseated when I look at the filthy thing. Honestly, it really was disgusting.
I would like to point out, however, that it's not my fault it got like that. The place where I work is incredibly dusty and dirty, and short of sandblasting the joint clean, there is very little I can do about the amount of dust that collects everywhere.
It seems to be magnetically attracted to my keyboard.
Anyway.
Everyone NEEDS to get one of these little jobbies, they really ARE magic.
And considering how much I dislike domestic tasks, this actually makes the whole cleaning thing kind of fun!
They're at a store near you.
In the cleaning aisle.
So run out and buy one, what are you waiting for!?!
Really. You'll thank me for it!
(I hate sounding like an ad...but I can't help it, it's really great!)
It's like I've got a new lease on life or something!
Alright, at the very least, I don't feel nauseated when I look at the filthy thing. Honestly, it really was disgusting.
I would like to point out, however, that it's not my fault it got like that. The place where I work is incredibly dusty and dirty, and short of sandblasting the joint clean, there is very little I can do about the amount of dust that collects everywhere.
It seems to be magnetically attracted to my keyboard.
Anyway.
Everyone NEEDS to get one of these little jobbies, they really ARE magic.
And considering how much I dislike domestic tasks, this actually makes the whole cleaning thing kind of fun!
They're at a store near you.
In the cleaning aisle.
So run out and buy one, what are you waiting for!?!
Really. You'll thank me for it!
(I hate sounding like an ad...but I can't help it, it's really great!)
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Work.
I never post much about work.
I have a job that I putter away at, it's sometimes aggravating, sometimes okay.
Not being a very ambitious person (and what I mean by that is I have no desire to make it to the 'top' only to be stressed out and anxiety ridden while standing there) so I do what I need to do, and go home at the same time everyday.
I know that it doesn't sound glamorous, and it's not.
But, I'll never fool myself into believing that I'm only as important as my job title.
It's a pity that that belief is so rampant.
What I DO like about my job is that I know it so well I can do it with my eyes closed, and have plenty of time to entertain myself during the rest of the day.
I love to read, so http://www.gutenberg.org/ is a wonderful site.
I read "Alice in Wonderland" one afternoon, and "Vanity Fair" over a few days...not to mention, "Far From the Madding Crowd."
All the classics, right there at my finger tips for my reading pleasure.
And obviously I like to write, so I have lots of time to sit and contemplate posts and stories and anything worthy of being transcribed into reading material.
Yeah, I know.
Maybe it's a bit dodgy to not actually WORK at work.
But on the other hand, I am improving my mind while I'm here...I'm not surfing porn or checking out the latest gossip that surrounds Ms. Hilton like so much airy pink cotton candy around a (very thin) stick.
I'm actively engaged in making myself a better, more interesting person.
Ain't that great?
Now, just how am I going to explain that to my employer when they finally catch on?
I really doubt my intellectual advancements would interest them one little bit.
Pity.
I have a job that I putter away at, it's sometimes aggravating, sometimes okay.
Not being a very ambitious person (and what I mean by that is I have no desire to make it to the 'top' only to be stressed out and anxiety ridden while standing there) so I do what I need to do, and go home at the same time everyday.
I know that it doesn't sound glamorous, and it's not.
But, I'll never fool myself into believing that I'm only as important as my job title.
It's a pity that that belief is so rampant.
What I DO like about my job is that I know it so well I can do it with my eyes closed, and have plenty of time to entertain myself during the rest of the day.
I love to read, so http://www.gutenberg.org/ is a wonderful site.
I read "Alice in Wonderland" one afternoon, and "Vanity Fair" over a few days...not to mention, "Far From the Madding Crowd."
All the classics, right there at my finger tips for my reading pleasure.
And obviously I like to write, so I have lots of time to sit and contemplate posts and stories and anything worthy of being transcribed into reading material.
Yeah, I know.
Maybe it's a bit dodgy to not actually WORK at work.
But on the other hand, I am improving my mind while I'm here...I'm not surfing porn or checking out the latest gossip that surrounds Ms. Hilton like so much airy pink cotton candy around a (very thin) stick.
I'm actively engaged in making myself a better, more interesting person.
Ain't that great?
Now, just how am I going to explain that to my employer when they finally catch on?
I really doubt my intellectual advancements would interest them one little bit.
Pity.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Best intentions.
I really want to have a 'links' thingy and a stat counter and be able to post pictures too.
But I don't know how.
So, please believe that I have the best of intentions.
Because we all know what the road to hell is paved with, and that suits me just fine!
Some one I used to know thought that the saying was 'the road to hell is paved with bad intentions'.
That DOES make sense, but the irony is darker when it's expressed the other way.
So anyway.
I would if I could, but I can't.
So I won't.
But I don't know how.
So, please believe that I have the best of intentions.
Because we all know what the road to hell is paved with, and that suits me just fine!
Some one I used to know thought that the saying was 'the road to hell is paved with bad intentions'.
That DOES make sense, but the irony is darker when it's expressed the other way.
So anyway.
I would if I could, but I can't.
So I won't.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Ah, Vancouver drivers.
| Late the other night, my friends and I were sitting outside enjoying some gelato. I happened to glance up and I noticed someone trying to parallel park in front of my car. I could just TELL he had no idea what he was doing. I pointed this out to our little group, "Hey, that guy is going to hit my car...watch." And sure enough, as everyone turned to look, he backed into to my car. Then, he finished parking, got out of his vehicle glanced minorly at my bumper and really didn't appear to be about to do the right thing by leaving a note for me. Jennye and I strode over, I whipped out my handy dandy mini note book and said, "You just hit my car, weren't you going to leave a note?" "Uh...there's not THAT much damage" He replied. "That's not really the point, is it?" I snapped back, jotting down his license number, make and model of vehicle. "Your drivers license please." I required. "But it's not that bad." He repeated. "You hit my car. You may not care, but I do. I assume you have insurance?" "Yes, I have insurance. Hey what are you doing?" He was looking suspiciously at Jennye. This is the best part! While I was grilling him, Jennye was taking pictures of the damage! Love friends with digital cameras! He was not at all please about my friend with the digital camera. Oh well, you don't mess with 30+ year old women who have notepads and cameras! You know, he's right, there wasn't much damage at all. And I would have just walked away from it without a second thought...if only he had said "I'm sorry." |
Friday, May 27, 2005
Ugh.
My apartment is clean(ish). I mean, I don't have food lying around rotting. There's a few dishes that need washing up, and maybe somethings ARE in need of a little dusting, but a pigsty it's decidely NOT. So WHAT'S with all the flies? They're circling...CIRCLING...CIRCLING............ it's driving me NUTS!!!!! And why do they need to do crazy-ass figure eights in my living room!?! It's not like I have food in my living room that they are potentially stalking. And trying to confuse by flying in tight little circles 1/2 foot above it. 'Cus that's really effective. Maybe I've been promoted to Beezelbub and someone neglected to send me the memo? Hope it comes with a raise, 'cus it's going to take a lot to get used to those crazy little bastards. They make me ill just watching them. uh oh...feeling disoriented. getting dizz.... |
All hell broke loose this morning.
As I was going about my morning ablutions, I heard a terrible commotion outside in the alley.
I peered outside into the beautiful bright morning only to see a cluster of Starlings making a loud fuss about SOMETHING behind a fence.
If you've never heard Starlings, you'd be surprised at the amount of sounds they can make, not to mention the ear shattering volume they can achieve.
From a 'CHCHCHCHCH' sound of angry squirrels, to the harsh 'SKREE SKREE' of fierce blue jays, they have plethora of loud noises they can choose from.
It really is amazing.
BUT that amazment can quickly turn to sheer blinding rage when you're trying to sleep and a contingency of them are screaming away outside your window at 5:30 am.
Fortunately, this was not one of those occasions, so I was more puzzled than pissed.
I thought that perhaps a cat had caught one and was the focus of the collective rage, but upon going outside, all it turned out to be was a crow standing around minding his own business.
He didn't appear to be doing anything but be standing about, but the Starlings had worked themselves into a right tizzy.
They were yelling and hollering and dive bombing him and generally waging all out war.
And he just continued to stand there, ignoring the whole brouhaha he was causing.
I wonder about birds sometimes.
So.
That's it then.
Have a great weekend, and I hope that no masses of wailing birds wake you early in the morning.
I peered outside into the beautiful bright morning only to see a cluster of Starlings making a loud fuss about SOMETHING behind a fence.
If you've never heard Starlings, you'd be surprised at the amount of sounds they can make, not to mention the ear shattering volume they can achieve.
From a 'CHCHCHCHCH' sound of angry squirrels, to the harsh 'SKREE SKREE' of fierce blue jays, they have plethora of loud noises they can choose from.
It really is amazing.
BUT that amazment can quickly turn to sheer blinding rage when you're trying to sleep and a contingency of them are screaming away outside your window at 5:30 am.
Fortunately, this was not one of those occasions, so I was more puzzled than pissed.
I thought that perhaps a cat had caught one and was the focus of the collective rage, but upon going outside, all it turned out to be was a crow standing around minding his own business.
He didn't appear to be doing anything but be standing about, but the Starlings had worked themselves into a right tizzy.
They were yelling and hollering and dive bombing him and generally waging all out war.
And he just continued to stand there, ignoring the whole brouhaha he was causing.
I wonder about birds sometimes.
So.
That's it then.
Have a great weekend, and I hope that no masses of wailing birds wake you early in the morning.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Whee!
Thanks to :
http://stilettoes.blogspot.com/ for a great site AND
for a posting this other great site!
http://www.howtobeahero.com/guild/welcome/
'Cus everyone LOVES a hero!!
(gee, you'll never guess what I am! oh, what's that?....did you say 'Tai just HAS to be a WARRIOR??!!!"
Wow. You really DO know me!)
http://stilettoes.blogspot.com/ for a great site AND
for a posting this other great site!
http://www.howtobeahero.com/guild/welcome/
'Cus everyone LOVES a hero!!
(gee, you'll never guess what I am! oh, what's that?....did you say 'Tai just HAS to be a WARRIOR??!!!"
Wow. You really DO know me!)
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Nose odor update...
...it's gone down.
Vanished into 'thin air' (now WHY do I find that so funny?)
Anyway, just so you know.
Just in case you were following this little bit of strangeness in my life.
I mean, you know. If you cared.
(I know you do.)
Vanished into 'thin air' (now WHY do I find that so funny?)
Anyway, just so you know.
Just in case you were following this little bit of strangeness in my life.
I mean, you know. If you cared.
(I know you do.)
Unusual word.
Kim asked me about a word she couldn't track down.
She said she had done several searches, but to no avail.
And I was horrified to have to acknowledge that I didn't actually know it!
So I went to the Dictionary of Difficult Words and plugged it in...
Teratism
n. monstrosity; love of monsters or marvels. teratical, a. teratogen, n. substance that can cause fetal deformities if absorbed during pregnancy. teratogenesis, teratogeny, n. production of malformations in a fetus or of biological monstrosities. teratoid, a. abnormal. teratology, n. composition of fantastic stories; study or description of, or doctrine about, miracles; study of freaks, monsters, and physical abnormalities. teratosis, n.
"A love of monsters or marvels. "
Well now.
That really does explain a lot of things, doesn't it?
She said she had done several searches, but to no avail.
And I was horrified to have to acknowledge that I didn't actually know it!
So I went to the Dictionary of Difficult Words and plugged it in...
Teratism
n. monstrosity; love of monsters or marvels. teratical, a. teratogen, n. substance that can cause fetal deformities if absorbed during pregnancy. teratogenesis, teratogeny, n. production of malformations in a fetus or of biological monstrosities. teratoid, a. abnormal. teratology, n. composition of fantastic stories; study or description of, or doctrine about, miracles; study of freaks, monsters, and physical abnormalities. teratosis, n.
"A love of monsters or marvels. "
Well now.
That really does explain a lot of things, doesn't it?
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Oh, the smallest of all pleasures.
Like, I got a paper cut, on my finger!?
And now, I have a SPIDERMAN band-aid on it!
I'm so excited...I never had cool band-aids when I was a kid.
"Spider man SPIDER man, does what ever a SPIDER can,
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look OVER head...LOOK OUT!
Here comes the SPIDER MAN!"
c'mon everyone, sing along!
And now, I have a SPIDERMAN band-aid on it!
I'm so excited...I never had cool band-aids when I was a kid.
"Spider man SPIDER man, does what ever a SPIDER can,
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look OVER head...LOOK OUT!
Here comes the SPIDER MAN!"
c'mon everyone, sing along!
Friday, May 20, 2005
There's an aroma I can't quite figure out...
How to describe this…it’s very odd so bear (bare?) with me.
I have a scent…an odour, um…a smell that is lodged in my nose, and has been lodged there for almost 2 weeks now.
It’s a mix between coffee and smoke, I think.
It’s a very musty thick smell and I just can’t shake it.
I’m not saying it’s horribly unpleasant, but it’s just so weird that I’m stuck with an…oh I don’t know…a olfactory malfunction?
I’ve had it before, it’s not new to me, and it WILL go away eventually, but until then...
First time I’ve ever tried to describe it though, and in doing so, I realize now just how truly bizarre it is.
“A smell stuck in your nose, eh, Tai?”
Yeah, that’s cool.
I have a scent…an odour, um…a smell that is lodged in my nose, and has been lodged there for almost 2 weeks now.
It’s a mix between coffee and smoke, I think.
It’s a very musty thick smell and I just can’t shake it.
I’m not saying it’s horribly unpleasant, but it’s just so weird that I’m stuck with an…oh I don’t know…a olfactory malfunction?
I’ve had it before, it’s not new to me, and it WILL go away eventually, but until then...
First time I’ve ever tried to describe it though, and in doing so, I realize now just how truly bizarre it is.
“A smell stuck in your nose, eh, Tai?”
Yeah, that’s cool.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Note to self.
Here is a typical message I leave for myself at work.
9
LIONS
BATHG
(mt)
It's strange to look at your own short hand from an outsiders perspective.
It looks so exotic...like I'm reminding myself to try bathing 9 lions on a mountain or something.
No such luck.
It refers merely to door # 9, a company called 'Lionsgate', and a building complex called Bathgate.
The (mt) is easy, it's short for empty!
(get it? get it? mt=empty HAHAHAHAHA!!) *
*one HAS to find SOMETHING to entertain oneself with at work...am I right!?! C'mon, AM I RIGHT!?!?
(you know I am. Just admit it.)
9
LIONS
BATHG
(mt)
It's strange to look at your own short hand from an outsiders perspective.
It looks so exotic...like I'm reminding myself to try bathing 9 lions on a mountain or something.
No such luck.
It refers merely to door # 9, a company called 'Lionsgate', and a building complex called Bathgate.
The (mt) is easy, it's short for empty!
(get it? get it? mt=empty HAHAHAHAHA!!) *
*one HAS to find SOMETHING to entertain oneself with at work...am I right!?! C'mon, AM I RIGHT!?!?
(you know I am. Just admit it.)
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Bad hair. BAD BAD HAIR!!!
I have had it with my hair!
It's being perverse.
And really, I'm not far away from hacking it all off and letting it grow in half gray and weird and curly(ish).
That would teach it, wouldn't it?
It IS partially my own fault, between the coloring, blow drying and straightening it was bound to happened.
I'm willing to accept that.
BUT, what is NOT my fault is the unruly gray mess that it's becoming naturally.
That, I blame solely and completely on my dear mama.
So now it's a multi-colored dry, straw like mess that, despite my best efforts to tame and turn into something smooth and silk like, continues to rebel.
Ick.
Please someone, suggest something less drastic than chopping it all off.
'Cus otherwise I'm going to colour it again, I swear I will!!!!
It's being perverse.
And really, I'm not far away from hacking it all off and letting it grow in half gray and weird and curly(ish).
That would teach it, wouldn't it?
It IS partially my own fault, between the coloring, blow drying and straightening it was bound to happened.
I'm willing to accept that.
BUT, what is NOT my fault is the unruly gray mess that it's becoming naturally.
That, I blame solely and completely on my dear mama.
So now it's a multi-colored dry, straw like mess that, despite my best efforts to tame and turn into something smooth and silk like, continues to rebel.
Ick.
Please someone, suggest something less drastic than chopping it all off.
'Cus otherwise I'm going to colour it again, I swear I will!!!!
Thursday, May 12, 2005
New word for your vocabulary.
I think this may be old and well used, but nonetheless...
Word of the day: Sarchasm
Definition: : The unassailable gulf between the owner of fine edged sarcastic wit, and the person who just. doesn't. get it.
Word of the day: Sarchasm
Definition: : The unassailable gulf between the owner of fine edged sarcastic wit, and the person who just. doesn't. get it.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Who's bright idea was THAT!?!
You're a car designer in the early eighties for Pontiac.
You want to design a cool car that people will want to drive, 'cus it's got such a cool name.
After thinking and thinking and THINKING about what the most awesome name would be for your super car, you come up with 'SUNBURST'!
Now who WOULDN'T want to drive a car that was reminiscent of summer days, and fun in the sun?
So. What do you do next?
You paint it 'dried-blood red' of course...'cus that REALLY shows just how gosh darn fun it would be to drive. *
And that colour suits the name 'Sunburst' so very well.
All your friends would be jealous when you told them.
"I have a NEW CAR!" you shouted it proudly back in '84.
"What is it what IS it!!??" everyone would shout excitedly back.
"It's a 'dried-blood red' PONTIAC SUNBURST!" you'd reply...waiting for the cheers.
But there was no cheer, was there?
Your friends just looked uncomfortable and shuffled away. No one wanted to ride in your 'ride'.
So why on earth DO car companies paint cars in bad colors anyway?
I'm certainly not exempt from owning a car with a dodgy color...yes pun intended.
It was an old muscle car... a 1970 Dodge Charger.
And it was BROWN.
Yup, plain old BROWN!
In fact, it was brown like DIRT!
Why paint a fast and powerful car, meant to impress friends and enemies, BROWN!!??!!!
Why???
And the iridescent, glow in the dark STICKER that ran the length of the car didn't do it any favours, either.
(Yeah, I know. It really was a sticker. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that. I'm sorry.)
I mean, you can't evade the law when your bloody car lights up like fireworks when the cops headlights catch you turning a corner in an effort to make a high speed, sneaky get away.
Believe me. I tried.
It didn't work.
Geeeeezzzzzz.......
*now, 'freshly-spilt blood red' is a color of a different...uh...color, I guess
You want to design a cool car that people will want to drive, 'cus it's got such a cool name.
After thinking and thinking and THINKING about what the most awesome name would be for your super car, you come up with 'SUNBURST'!
Now who WOULDN'T want to drive a car that was reminiscent of summer days, and fun in the sun?
So. What do you do next?
You paint it 'dried-blood red' of course...'cus that REALLY shows just how gosh darn fun it would be to drive. *
And that colour suits the name 'Sunburst' so very well.
All your friends would be jealous when you told them.
"I have a NEW CAR!" you shouted it proudly back in '84.
"What is it what IS it!!??" everyone would shout excitedly back.
"It's a 'dried-blood red' PONTIAC SUNBURST!" you'd reply...waiting for the cheers.
But there was no cheer, was there?
Your friends just looked uncomfortable and shuffled away. No one wanted to ride in your 'ride'.
So why on earth DO car companies paint cars in bad colors anyway?
I'm certainly not exempt from owning a car with a dodgy color...yes pun intended.
It was an old muscle car... a 1970 Dodge Charger.
And it was BROWN.
Yup, plain old BROWN!
In fact, it was brown like DIRT!
Why paint a fast and powerful car, meant to impress friends and enemies, BROWN!!??!!!
Why???
And the iridescent, glow in the dark STICKER that ran the length of the car didn't do it any favours, either.
(Yeah, I know. It really was a sticker. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that. I'm sorry.)
I mean, you can't evade the law when your bloody car lights up like fireworks when the cops headlights catch you turning a corner in an effort to make a high speed, sneaky get away.
Believe me. I tried.
It didn't work.
Geeeeezzzzzz.......
*now, 'freshly-spilt blood red' is a color of a different...uh...color, I guess
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
uuuhhhhh.....
Hmmm...
witty comments: 0
intelligent observations about life: 0
moments of elucidation: 0
oooh, I 'm on a roll today!
But seriously. I'm suffering from a total lack of anything clever to write about.
I mean...I've got a really gross transit system story I could regal you with, but I don't think I will.
This blog is supposed to be quasi-intelligent and semi-amusing.
But gross? Nope.
It. just. doesn't. cut it.
So, nothing for today I guess, as I'm going to refrain from making you feel ill to your stomach. (like I just about was on the bus that day!)
Wow.
That guy was really vile.
I can't believe he was doing that in broad daylight on a very hot, crowded bus.
ugh, just thinking about it makes my stomach queasy.
Aren't you glad I'm not sharing?
witty comments: 0
intelligent observations about life: 0
moments of elucidation: 0
oooh, I 'm on a roll today!
But seriously. I'm suffering from a total lack of anything clever to write about.
I mean...I've got a really gross transit system story I could regal you with, but I don't think I will.
This blog is supposed to be quasi-intelligent and semi-amusing.
But gross? Nope.
It. just. doesn't. cut it.
So, nothing for today I guess, as I'm going to refrain from making you feel ill to your stomach. (like I just about was on the bus that day!)
Wow.
That guy was really vile.
I can't believe he was doing that in broad daylight on a very hot, crowded bus.
ugh, just thinking about it makes my stomach queasy.
Aren't you glad I'm not sharing?
Monday, May 09, 2005
Love them crazy cat ladies! (and yes, I do mean me too!)
"Because nothing is sexier than a divorced woman with 4 cats."
http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/
http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Regarding my new (temporary) cat.
She's just lovely.
A bit quirky, but sweet.
Nervous to the point of hiding for 3 hours straight around strangers, but affectionate and happy when she trusts you.
She chirps instead of 'meows', which is entirely appropriate to her little 5lbs of fluff.
Now, here's what I just don't understand.
How could stupid idiot boy not bother calling me (or bringing over all that food for her he keeps promising) for over a week and a half to find out how she is?
Perhaps he feels she's in such safe hands, that he can continue on his merry way, completely assured of the safety and happiness of his wee cat?
Of course, that IS true.
But you know, I just think that it's because he's to lazy and self absorbed to bother.
He better be careful, I might forget that she hasn't been my cat for years and years and decline to give her back! *
*Whenever he gets around to asking for her back, I mean.
At the rate he's going, he might just never bother!
A bit quirky, but sweet.
Nervous to the point of hiding for 3 hours straight around strangers, but affectionate and happy when she trusts you.
She chirps instead of 'meows', which is entirely appropriate to her little 5lbs of fluff.
Now, here's what I just don't understand.
How could stupid idiot boy not bother calling me (or bringing over all that food for her he keeps promising) for over a week and a half to find out how she is?
Perhaps he feels she's in such safe hands, that he can continue on his merry way, completely assured of the safety and happiness of his wee cat?
Of course, that IS true.
But you know, I just think that it's because he's to lazy and self absorbed to bother.
He better be careful, I might forget that she hasn't been my cat for years and years and decline to give her back! *
*Whenever he gets around to asking for her back, I mean.
At the rate he's going, he might just never bother!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
A dearth of intellectual stimuli here at work.
I went and saw the "Hitchhikers Guide" last night.
Very enjoyable, but I concur with most reviews that if you haven't read the book(s), you'd probably be confused and not very amused.
However, being a fan of the books, I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Thought they did a bang up job, in fact, so cheers to them!
However, I sooo wanted to chat with my co workers about it today, until I realized (sadly) that NO ONE I work with would have the faintest idea what I was talking about.
If I was to discuss the "O.C." or something, I'd have people to talk with, but not on this topic.
That makes me sad.
On a good note though, I went to the "Teen Angst Poetry" reading at the Media Club on Sunday here in Vancouver...just brilliant, of course!
Check it out, and pay special attention to the fine angsty poems by our own dear friend, Ms. K. Bannerman!
It's not quite Vogon class, but then, I think we can be thankful for that.
http://www.teenangstpoetry.com/
Very enjoyable, but I concur with most reviews that if you haven't read the book(s), you'd probably be confused and not very amused.
However, being a fan of the books, I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Thought they did a bang up job, in fact, so cheers to them!
However, I sooo wanted to chat with my co workers about it today, until I realized (sadly) that NO ONE I work with would have the faintest idea what I was talking about.
If I was to discuss the "O.C." or something, I'd have people to talk with, but not on this topic.
That makes me sad.
On a good note though, I went to the "Teen Angst Poetry" reading at the Media Club on Sunday here in Vancouver...just brilliant, of course!
Check it out, and pay special attention to the fine angsty poems by our own dear friend, Ms. K. Bannerman!
It's not quite Vogon class, but then, I think we can be thankful for that.
http://www.teenangstpoetry.com/
Friday, April 29, 2005
Proceed with caution, Vogon poetry ahead.
In honor of the forthcoming (opening today, in fact) "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" movie, I have composed a little poetry for your reading (dis)pleasure.
As I have already issued a warning, you may proceed as you choose.
Flatulence and Death
See, see the cratch sky
Marvel at its big aubergine depths.
Tell me, you smag, do you
Wonder
why the vulture ignores you?
Why its foobly stare makes you feel snerly.
I can tell you,
It is worried by your filkot facial growth
That looks like
A rotting parsnip.
What's more, it knows
Your rutch potting shed
Smells of peas.
Everything under the big cratch sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm dilges.
As I have already issued a warning, you may proceed as you choose.
Flatulence and Death
See, see the cratch sky
Marvel at its big aubergine depths.
Tell me, you smag, do you
Wonder
why the vulture ignores you?
Why its foobly stare makes you feel snerly.
I can tell you,
It is worried by your filkot facial growth
That looks like
A rotting parsnip.
What's more, it knows
Your rutch potting shed
Smells of peas.
Everything under the big cratch sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm dilges.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
I'll have some revulsion with my martini.
Saturday afternoon, after hours of walking around and being productive, I decided to sit and have a beer and relax with a friend of mine at the local watering hole.
We had a clear view of the bar and looked on with interest as the following took place (we could also very hear very clearly, as well.)
You see, a waitress came to pick up two martinis for some customers and noticed something in one of them.
"Hold on." The bartender looked closer.
He then picked up a straw and performed a minor surgery on the drink by suctioning up whatever 'it' was using the straw and his forefinger and depositing it on the counter.
"Ew. What is that!?" The waitress peered down closely.
"Is it still alive?" Bartender queried after the health of what I believe must have been a fly.
"Oh, well" he decided quickly, "It won't kill 'em."
And with that, the waitress whisked the drinks off to the unsuspecting patrons. *
The bartender looked up and saw us staring at him in disbelief.
"You didn't see anything."
Uh...
*I always suspected things like that happened, but I really didn't expect it to be so BLATANT!
I mean, shouldn't the removing of flies from a customers drink be masked by a sleight of hand trick or a little subterfuge or something?
At least go into the kitchen to remove the body, geez!!!
We had a clear view of the bar and looked on with interest as the following took place (we could also very hear very clearly, as well.)
You see, a waitress came to pick up two martinis for some customers and noticed something in one of them.
"Hold on." The bartender looked closer.
He then picked up a straw and performed a minor surgery on the drink by suctioning up whatever 'it' was using the straw and his forefinger and depositing it on the counter.
"Ew. What is that!?" The waitress peered down closely.
"Is it still alive?" Bartender queried after the health of what I believe must have been a fly.
"Oh, well" he decided quickly, "It won't kill 'em."
And with that, the waitress whisked the drinks off to the unsuspecting patrons. *
The bartender looked up and saw us staring at him in disbelief.
"You didn't see anything."
Uh...
*I always suspected things like that happened, but I really didn't expect it to be so BLATANT!
I mean, shouldn't the removing of flies from a customers drink be masked by a sleight of hand trick or a little subterfuge or something?
At least go into the kitchen to remove the body, geez!!!
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Last night, I died.
Yes, it's true.
I was engaged on a mission to take over a ship from the enemy, and in my state of high stress, I shot and killed a compatriot.
As I looked on in horror, he fell to the ground, and I saw one of my other team members turn and shot at me.
I realized it was the proper punishment for taking another's life, so I stood, one hand in the air, the other clutching my machine gun, and waited for the bullet.
It entered my eye and ended my life.
I was a ghost over the sea for a few moments before I awoke in a cold sweat.
I've heard that dreams about your own death are actually signs of imminent renewal in your waking life, so I guess I'll just keep my fingers crossed.
I don't think any of my team members here at work actually know how to shoot a gun anyway.
Besides, they're more prone to stab me in the back.
I was engaged on a mission to take over a ship from the enemy, and in my state of high stress, I shot and killed a compatriot.
As I looked on in horror, he fell to the ground, and I saw one of my other team members turn and shot at me.
I realized it was the proper punishment for taking another's life, so I stood, one hand in the air, the other clutching my machine gun, and waited for the bullet.
It entered my eye and ended my life.
I was a ghost over the sea for a few moments before I awoke in a cold sweat.
I've heard that dreams about your own death are actually signs of imminent renewal in your waking life, so I guess I'll just keep my fingers crossed.
I don't think any of my team members here at work actually know how to shoot a gun anyway.
Besides, they're more prone to stab me in the back.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Jazz in a small cozy room.
I went and saw some sublime jazz Saturday night.
http://www.redholloway.com/
Sheer brilliance.
And while 'Red' Halloway is a saxophonist who's abilities are honed from years and years of playing, I have to admit that it was the stand up bass that really had me swooning.
Love that low, sultry sound.
http://www.redholloway.com/
Sheer brilliance.
And while 'Red' Halloway is a saxophonist who's abilities are honed from years and years of playing, I have to admit that it was the stand up bass that really had me swooning.
Love that low, sultry sound.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Stain...Saint...it's all the same to me!
I guess when someone said there's a big salt STAIN on a concrete wall under the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago, everyone thought they said SAINT.
It's an easy mistake to make.
Thus, there are hundreds of devote and faithful flocking down there to leave flowers and light candles, and to pray at the foot of this enormous salt stain which dripped down from the highway above.
They seem to think it looks like Mary.
So, when's the next bus to Chicago?
It's an easy mistake to make.
Thus, there are hundreds of devote and faithful flocking down there to leave flowers and light candles, and to pray at the foot of this enormous salt stain which dripped down from the highway above.
They seem to think it looks like Mary.
So, when's the next bus to Chicago?
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Um...what just happened there?
She looked like a sweet little old lady.
But I’m very concerned that I’ve done something terribly wrong.
You see, yesterday as I walked back to my car after paying for my gas, a darling old woman approached me and we began a very strange conversation.
“Hello dearie, did you pay first?” She asked, looking up at me. (And yes, she really DID say 'dearie'.)
I looked down, an unusual occurrence for my 5’3” height, and saw her.
“Um, pay first?” I asked, not sure what she was referring to.
“Yes, do you have to pay for the gas first?” She repeated, her voice sweet, kind, and a little shaky from long years of use.
“Oh, no. You can go ahead and start putting gas in your car and then pay when you’re done.”
“Ah, but I did have to pay here first, once.” She smelled gently of Crabtree and Evelyn talcum powder, her hair carefully coiffed and a pale shade of pink lipstick on her lips.
“That’s possible. But usually that’s after dark.” I was walking back to my car as we spoke, and she tagged along.
Her car was parked behind mine, and I began to get the feeling that she might need some help pumping her gas, so I went to her car to assist.
“Oh, thank you. Just $10 please.” She was staring carefully as the numbers whizzed by.
At ten dollars, I stopped and replaced the nozzle and re-capped her tank, and said, “There you go. Now you can pay.”
“I hope I don’t get caught.” She grabbed at my arm conspiratorially and lowered her voice.
“Caught?” Pardon me?
“I’m not supposed to have…I shouldn’t be driving.” She started and stopped, looking around suspiciously.
“Well,” I laughed, “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Those people at ICBC, three times I went in there…” She trailed off, pulling her cardigan close over her rounded shoulders.
“But, the last time was in March,” she continued, “I had to, I didn’t have food in the house for months!”
“uh…” How did this conversation spin so oddly?
“Oh, yes, but now I know that Safeway will deliver.” She nodded wisely to herself.
“Okay, well, don’t go speeding around now. Be safe.” I said, sounding like a fool.
“That’s okay, they won’t catch me.” I pretty sure I didn’t want to hear that from her.
As she made her way to the store to pay for her gas, she turned, waved and coyly pressed a single finger to her lips.
At least, I think she was going in to pay.
Who knows...perhaps the minute my back was turned she held up the store, jumped into her stolen(?) car and raced away on ten dollars worth of gas to the nearest Safeway to stock up for her great escape.
Maybe I should have taken down her license plate number.
But I’m very concerned that I’ve done something terribly wrong.
You see, yesterday as I walked back to my car after paying for my gas, a darling old woman approached me and we began a very strange conversation.
“Hello dearie, did you pay first?” She asked, looking up at me. (And yes, she really DID say 'dearie'.)
I looked down, an unusual occurrence for my 5’3” height, and saw her.
“Um, pay first?” I asked, not sure what she was referring to.
“Yes, do you have to pay for the gas first?” She repeated, her voice sweet, kind, and a little shaky from long years of use.
“Oh, no. You can go ahead and start putting gas in your car and then pay when you’re done.”
“Ah, but I did have to pay here first, once.” She smelled gently of Crabtree and Evelyn talcum powder, her hair carefully coiffed and a pale shade of pink lipstick on her lips.
“That’s possible. But usually that’s after dark.” I was walking back to my car as we spoke, and she tagged along.
Her car was parked behind mine, and I began to get the feeling that she might need some help pumping her gas, so I went to her car to assist.
“Oh, thank you. Just $10 please.” She was staring carefully as the numbers whizzed by.
At ten dollars, I stopped and replaced the nozzle and re-capped her tank, and said, “There you go. Now you can pay.”
“I hope I don’t get caught.” She grabbed at my arm conspiratorially and lowered her voice.
“Caught?” Pardon me?
“I’m not supposed to have…I shouldn’t be driving.” She started and stopped, looking around suspiciously.
“Well,” I laughed, “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Those people at ICBC, three times I went in there…” She trailed off, pulling her cardigan close over her rounded shoulders.
“But, the last time was in March,” she continued, “I had to, I didn’t have food in the house for months!”
“uh…” How did this conversation spin so oddly?
“Oh, yes, but now I know that Safeway will deliver.” She nodded wisely to herself.
“Okay, well, don’t go speeding around now. Be safe.” I said, sounding like a fool.
“That’s okay, they won’t catch me.” I pretty sure I didn’t want to hear that from her.
As she made her way to the store to pay for her gas, she turned, waved and coyly pressed a single finger to her lips.
At least, I think she was going in to pay.
Who knows...perhaps the minute my back was turned she held up the store, jumped into her stolen(?) car and raced away on ten dollars worth of gas to the nearest Safeway to stock up for her great escape.
Maybe I should have taken down her license plate number.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Not much to report...
...oh, except 'stupid idiot boy' ran his Ferrari into the back end of some ladies car so hard the other day that her tail pipe came off and stuck in his hood like some deranged unicorn caricature.
And "The Lesson" for today?
Sometimes bad things happen to nice cars.
(There's a lesson in there about Karma too, somewhere. See if you can find it.)
And "The Lesson" for today?
Sometimes bad things happen to nice cars.
(There's a lesson in there about Karma too, somewhere. See if you can find it.)
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Benedict the 16th, eh?
Quite the big kurfuffle over the new pope.
"OOOH, the smoke is BLACK!"
"No no, that's definitely white!!"
"uh..I think it's kinda gray, don't you?
I realize that it's a tradition, but it just doesn't seem to work that well.
Mind you, it's my understanding that the Catholic Church is run on archaic, out dated 'traditions'.. like putting the kibosh on condoms. *
I wonder what Benedict is going to be like.
Wonder if he'll be a hard-liner and really start enforcing the religious policies, or if he'll take a more modern approach.
The modern approach has MY vote.
*There is no way that could be a good idea.
"OOOH, the smoke is BLACK!"
"No no, that's definitely white!!"
"uh..I think it's kinda gray, don't you?
I realize that it's a tradition, but it just doesn't seem to work that well.
Mind you, it's my understanding that the Catholic Church is run on archaic, out dated 'traditions'.. like putting the kibosh on condoms. *
I wonder what Benedict is going to be like.
Wonder if he'll be a hard-liner and really start enforcing the religious policies, or if he'll take a more modern approach.
The modern approach has MY vote.
*There is no way that could be a good idea.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Po' Girl
I've never seen anyone play a washtub before, but WOW!
What an great band!
A little Ani DeFranco-ish and whole lot of their very own original sound.
http://www.pogirl.net/bio.html
Check 'em out, they sound great!
What an great band!
A little Ani DeFranco-ish and whole lot of their very own original sound.
http://www.pogirl.net/bio.html
Check 'em out, they sound great!
Thursday, April 14, 2005
The apology to Mr. Satriani still stands.
Those tickets I was mentioning...turned out I judged stupid idiot boy to harshly.
He DID send them, yeah, he really did...at 6:30 at night to my work e-mail.
So I did get them.
Yup, at 7:45...THE NEXT MORNING!!!
Way to go, dude.
He DID send them, yeah, he really did...at 6:30 at night to my work e-mail.
So I did get them.
Yup, at 7:45...THE NEXT MORNING!!!
Way to go, dude.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Please forgive me, Mr. Satriani.
Dear Mr. Satriani,
I'm really sorry I missed your show on Wednesday night, Joe. (Can I call you Joe?)
I was waiting for my EX, also known as "stupid idiot boy", to send tickets to me over my e-mail as a thank you for looking after his cat. (see my last e-mail regarding my "recently-returned-to-me-on-a-temporary-cat-sitting-basis-cat").
But he never did.
So, Joe...I guess we won't meet this time around.
I DID see your wicked guitar talented self a few years back, but I was sitting with a different boyfriend at the time, so any chance of our meeting was null then, too.
Anyhoo...please accept my apologies for having ever dated such an inconsiderate lout.
And please, don't hold it against me next time you're in town and we finally meet and fall madly in love and you are crushed to learn that another man kept me from your arms all those years ago.
Yours in sorrow and rage,
Tai
p.s. I doubt we'll ever fall in love Joe, that hat just looks goofy!
http://www.satriani.com/2004/
p.p.s. The hat in no way affects my respect my awe at your talent however. Just so you know.
p.p.p.s That shade of skin blue is a little dodgy, too.
I'm really sorry I missed your show on Wednesday night, Joe. (Can I call you Joe?)
I was waiting for my EX, also known as "stupid idiot boy", to send tickets to me over my e-mail as a thank you for looking after his cat. (see my last e-mail regarding my "recently-returned-to-me-on-a-temporary-cat-sitting-basis-cat").
But he never did.
So, Joe...I guess we won't meet this time around.
I DID see your wicked guitar talented self a few years back, but I was sitting with a different boyfriend at the time, so any chance of our meeting was null then, too.
Anyhoo...please accept my apologies for having ever dated such an inconsiderate lout.
And please, don't hold it against me next time you're in town and we finally meet and fall madly in love and you are crushed to learn that another man kept me from your arms all those years ago.
Yours in sorrow and rage,
Tai
p.s. I doubt we'll ever fall in love Joe, that hat just looks goofy!
http://www.satriani.com/2004/
p.p.s. The hat in no way affects my respect my awe at your talent however. Just so you know.
p.p.p.s That shade of skin blue is a little dodgy, too.
Friday, April 08, 2005
What ever happened to natural instincts?
I recently got my cat back after 7 years (that all by itself is a long story).
However, this is not about the events leading up to the return of my little cat, but about what is currently going on in my apartment.
You see...
I already HAVE a cat.
Bentley is a large 20 pound 14 year old male (hey! he is NOT fat!)
Attessa (the recent re-acquisition) is a teeny 5 pound 8 year old female.
They knew each other many years ago when she was but a wee kitten.
Now, she's back and she is behaving very...like a cat I guess.
She alternates between hiding underneath the bed in the deepest darkest recesses as if I was going to flay her and eat her alive, to parading around my apartment hissing and growling (quite meanly, I might add) at Bentley.
Rather ungrateful I think.
But what I find really strange is Bentley's reaction to the whole thing.
Which would be no reaction.
None.
Zip.
She hisses and growls and acts all aggressive at him and he sits there calmly and looks at her as if she were mad.
He doesn't mind sharing his food, the bed OR his litter box.
Sometimes, while she's cowering behind the couch, he'll go looking for her. Once he's ascertained where she is though, he goes back to whatever he was doing (lounging or eating usually), and pretends she doesn't actually exist.
I thought that natural instinct dictated that he freak out and get territorial and spit and hiss and generally act pissed off about the little bitchy cat that has invaded his space.
Instead, he takes everything in with great calmness and resides regally over his space.
He's confident, I suppose, with the fact that if he WANTED, he could kick her ass and chuck her off the balcony.
The fact remains however, that he's not behaving like a normal cat.
Which, really, is why I love him so very much.
However, this is not about the events leading up to the return of my little cat, but about what is currently going on in my apartment.
You see...
I already HAVE a cat.
Bentley is a large 20 pound 14 year old male (hey! he is NOT fat!)
Attessa (the recent re-acquisition) is a teeny 5 pound 8 year old female.
They knew each other many years ago when she was but a wee kitten.
Now, she's back and she is behaving very...like a cat I guess.
She alternates between hiding underneath the bed in the deepest darkest recesses as if I was going to flay her and eat her alive, to parading around my apartment hissing and growling (quite meanly, I might add) at Bentley.
Rather ungrateful I think.
But what I find really strange is Bentley's reaction to the whole thing.
Which would be no reaction.
None.
Zip.
She hisses and growls and acts all aggressive at him and he sits there calmly and looks at her as if she were mad.
He doesn't mind sharing his food, the bed OR his litter box.
Sometimes, while she's cowering behind the couch, he'll go looking for her. Once he's ascertained where she is though, he goes back to whatever he was doing (lounging or eating usually), and pretends she doesn't actually exist.
I thought that natural instinct dictated that he freak out and get territorial and spit and hiss and generally act pissed off about the little bitchy cat that has invaded his space.
Instead, he takes everything in with great calmness and resides regally over his space.
He's confident, I suppose, with the fact that if he WANTED, he could kick her ass and chuck her off the balcony.
The fact remains however, that he's not behaving like a normal cat.
Which, really, is why I love him so very much.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Drinky Mc Drink-Drink and the story of Jesus.
I LOVE this post, it reminds me of conversations I had with my friends in our youth about the 'Red Sea' and the 'Reed Sea' and Jesus's loincloth flapping in the breeze....
http://newyorkintern.blogspot.com/
This is a REALLY funny blog site.
Cheers to you Andy, keep it coming!
http://newyorkintern.blogspot.com/
This is a REALLY funny blog site.
Cheers to you Andy, keep it coming!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Change is good.
| Well, the pink was fun while it lasted (and yes, I DID like it, albeit in an obstrusive, ice cream headached sort of way.) But, the time has come for seriousness and I like this style. Thank you for your patience and understanding, while I explored my inner-barbie. ~shudder~ |
Beware the 'south-paw'.
A recent study by two French academics tracked the prevalence of left-handedness across a variety of traditional societies, and found that the more violent ones tended to have a high percentage of lefties. And the important lesson learned by that little dollop of information? Always keep your left handed friends close by the next time you end up in a bar brawl (or on a school bus with a behemoth named Pam trying to push you through a metal wall), they'll knock the crap out of your enemies, who won't even see it coming (right out of 'left field' as it were!). |
Friday, March 18, 2005
I didn't write this, but...
Being happily childless, going to a baby shower is like having a piranha give you oral sex, i.e. it's painful.
Guaranteed things will occur:
1. Several annoying hags will ask you, "So when are YOOOOOOOOOOU going to have a baby? Hmmm?", as they look disapprovingly over the tops of their glasses.
These same hags will shake their heads sadly when you inform them, "I would rather dip my face in acid then have my crotch ripped open by a head the size of a pumpkin, thank you."
2. You will be forced to play insipid games such as "Decorate Someone with Toilet Paper", or "The Clothespin Game". If you're a woman, you know what I'm talking about. If you're a man, get on your knees and thank jeebus you have a penis.
3. You will have to eat finger sandwiches. Okay, this shower is at lunch time, therefore I want food. I don't want watercress and air sandwiches with a side of jordan almonds, mmmkay?
4. You will have to sit through the opening of 5000 presents, each one of which will be held up for the requisite "oooh" or "aaah".
Word to the wise, don't drunkenly yell out, "That headband is going to make your daughter look like she has a garter on her head and is heading out to a baby prom." This is frowned upon.
5. You will have to sit through hours of what I like to call "Delivery Horror Story Porn". This is where every mother at the shower will give you the story of all their deliveries in 3D Technicolor. "I tore from front to back! 35 stitches!" "I delivered a placenta the size of a Labrador Retriever!" "My kid was stuck in the birth canal for 72 hours, she had a conehead!" "My boobs deflated after I stopped nursing and now they look like windsocks!"
When they see the look of complete repugnance on your face, they will try to convince you that - "It's a beautiful experience!"
"You forget the pain!"
"You'll never understand anything in this world or be a complete person unless you experience it!"
Alcohol should be served mandatorily at baby showers. Since it's not, be sure to bring your flask. Personally, I would rather watch the 49'ers lose for the millionth time than go to another shower, but since I have a vagina, I'm sure I'll be forced to attend many more.
Guaranteed things will occur:
1. Several annoying hags will ask you, "So when are YOOOOOOOOOOU going to have a baby? Hmmm?", as they look disapprovingly over the tops of their glasses.
These same hags will shake their heads sadly when you inform them, "I would rather dip my face in acid then have my crotch ripped open by a head the size of a pumpkin, thank you."
2. You will be forced to play insipid games such as "Decorate Someone with Toilet Paper", or "The Clothespin Game". If you're a woman, you know what I'm talking about. If you're a man, get on your knees and thank jeebus you have a penis.
3. You will have to eat finger sandwiches. Okay, this shower is at lunch time, therefore I want food. I don't want watercress and air sandwiches with a side of jordan almonds, mmmkay?
4. You will have to sit through the opening of 5000 presents, each one of which will be held up for the requisite "oooh" or "aaah".
Word to the wise, don't drunkenly yell out, "That headband is going to make your daughter look like she has a garter on her head and is heading out to a baby prom." This is frowned upon.
5. You will have to sit through hours of what I like to call "Delivery Horror Story Porn". This is where every mother at the shower will give you the story of all their deliveries in 3D Technicolor. "I tore from front to back! 35 stitches!" "I delivered a placenta the size of a Labrador Retriever!" "My kid was stuck in the birth canal for 72 hours, she had a conehead!" "My boobs deflated after I stopped nursing and now they look like windsocks!"
When they see the look of complete repugnance on your face, they will try to convince you that - "It's a beautiful experience!"
"You forget the pain!"
"You'll never understand anything in this world or be a complete person unless you experience it!"
Alcohol should be served mandatorily at baby showers. Since it's not, be sure to bring your flask. Personally, I would rather watch the 49'ers lose for the millionth time than go to another shower, but since I have a vagina, I'm sure I'll be forced to attend many more.
The Vancouver International Wine Festival
Oooh, that's tonight!
I'm so looking forward to it!
The host country is South Africa and as I don't know a whole lot about South African wines I'm looking forward to finding a few new favorites!
I'll take notes and impart my (self decreed) wisdom here on Monday or Tuesday.
I'm so looking forward to it!
The host country is South Africa and as I don't know a whole lot about South African wines I'm looking forward to finding a few new favorites!
I'll take notes and impart my (self decreed) wisdom here on Monday or Tuesday.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Yes, it's REALLY pink.
I'm making a statement. Don't harass me about it. What's the statement I'm making? Oh, something about werewolves and color stereotyping, nothing to work yourself up about. Anyway, the point of THIS post is to tell you to ignore the 'Links' section to the right. Because I don't actually know what I'm doing here (and my cat is getting in my way) I don't have the faintest ability or knowledge of how to change it from useless news to something I would ACTUALLY enjoy posting, like www.kbannerman.com or something. Heck, even the site of Merriam-Websters dictionary http://www.m-w.com/ would be an improvement. However. I'm am blog deficient in many ways and I am conceding that point by posting this. Kevin, if you're reading this, you have to promise to help me! |
Baby Showers and revulsion.
I hope to offend no one with this particular blog, but it just needs to be said. |
It is NOT necessary to completely gross out guests that don't have children and aren't EVER going to have children (especially after this!) by playing vile games focusing on 'pretend used' diapers at baby showers.
Example:
The girl who arranged aforementioned party took 6 diapers.
She filled them with examples of different types of baby food (pureed peas, yams etc...) numbered them, than passed them around.
Object of the game?
To have each participant inspect the contents of aforementioned diaper, either visually or by smell (or both), and correctly identify each of the 6 samples of the food it was 'originally'.
I mean....C'mon!!!
Friday, March 11, 2005
Priorities a little awry?
I've figured out something about myself. And I may have mentioned this before, but just bear with me for another few moments...
I figured out that while I have a hard time purchasing clothing that costs over $30, I will happily, and with out reservation, spend $60 dollars per meal on myself.
Now.
Not only is that a fleeting moment in time, with nothing but a full belly to show later, but it's an exorbitant amount to spend on a single meal.
At least if I was to spend $60 bucks on an article of clothing, I'd definitely have it longer than say...2 or 3 hours (or about 8 hours if you include the digestive process.)
I'm going to have to take this into serious consideration.
Later.
At the moment, I'm trying to figure out if I should make reservations for myself at the Café de Paris tonight, or if I should drop in and hope for the best.
I figured out that while I have a hard time purchasing clothing that costs over $30, I will happily, and with out reservation, spend $60 dollars per meal on myself.
Now.
Not only is that a fleeting moment in time, with nothing but a full belly to show later, but it's an exorbitant amount to spend on a single meal.
At least if I was to spend $60 bucks on an article of clothing, I'd definitely have it longer than say...2 or 3 hours (or about 8 hours if you include the digestive process.)
I'm going to have to take this into serious consideration.
Later.
At the moment, I'm trying to figure out if I should make reservations for myself at the Café de Paris tonight, or if I should drop in and hope for the best.
They've returned!
Along the side of the road that I drive to work is an deep and long drainage ditch. It runs beside a farm and the sides if the ditch are laden with shrubs and brambles and small trees.
In amongst the brush are Red Winged Blackbirds and I'm so happy to see them.
It seems spring has finally come.
They dart and flit, the bright red and yellow marks flashing on their wings.
Their beautiful two toned trill was the first birdsong I really recognized in my childhood, maybe that's the real reason I enjoy them so much.
The stately herons don't pay them any attention as they hunt along the sides of the ditches.
Actually, the herons look quite shrouded and cloaked when their long necks are tucked in, standing forlornly staring into the dark waters.
The hawks that patrol the fields don't pay them any attention either. They're to busy trying to avoid the crows that are diving at them like miniature kamikaze pilots.
(oh, and some Canadian geese are flocked in the field...a conference of noisy stuffed shirts ignoring everything else going on.)
And now that I've filled this blog up with mindless cliches, I'll be off!
In amongst the brush are Red Winged Blackbirds and I'm so happy to see them.
It seems spring has finally come.
They dart and flit, the bright red and yellow marks flashing on their wings.
Their beautiful two toned trill was the first birdsong I really recognized in my childhood, maybe that's the real reason I enjoy them so much.
The stately herons don't pay them any attention as they hunt along the sides of the ditches.
Actually, the herons look quite shrouded and cloaked when their long necks are tucked in, standing forlornly staring into the dark waters.
The hawks that patrol the fields don't pay them any attention either. They're to busy trying to avoid the crows that are diving at them like miniature kamikaze pilots.
(oh, and some Canadian geese are flocked in the field...a conference of noisy stuffed shirts ignoring everything else going on.)
And now that I've filled this blog up with mindless cliches, I'll be off!
Monday, March 07, 2005
Politics
I've noticed that there are a lot of blog sites dedicated to politics kicking around here.
I was going to write about that, but frankly, I know so little about politics (particularly American politics), that anything I could say about it would be shot down and burnt up in to little bitty pieces instantly.
Besides, I don't enjoy demonstrating my ignorance, and that's all that my blog about politics would very clearly show.
What I CAN do is complain about billionaire romance novelists who win the title "Officer of the Order of Arts and Letters" from France.
And mercy me, I do believe I will!
To steal a phrase that my well spoken friend Kim coined, I believe that the folks who selected a certain ROMANCE NOVELIST (read: Danielle Steele) to earn that honorable title, were "Blind, illiterate monkeys."
It certainly takes the shine of that medal, now doesn't it!
I suppose my own whining is for not, really.
I mean, it's not like I've done any better.
But I'm DAMN sure I could!
Then, when France offered ME the "Order of Arts and Letters" I would at least deserve it!
(I wouldn't accept it of course. But still...)
I was going to write about that, but frankly, I know so little about politics (particularly American politics), that anything I could say about it would be shot down and burnt up in to little bitty pieces instantly.
Besides, I don't enjoy demonstrating my ignorance, and that's all that my blog about politics would very clearly show.
What I CAN do is complain about billionaire romance novelists who win the title "Officer of the Order of Arts and Letters" from France.
And mercy me, I do believe I will!
To steal a phrase that my well spoken friend Kim coined, I believe that the folks who selected a certain ROMANCE NOVELIST (read: Danielle Steele) to earn that honorable title, were "Blind, illiterate monkeys."
It certainly takes the shine of that medal, now doesn't it!
I suppose my own whining is for not, really.
I mean, it's not like I've done any better.
But I'm DAMN sure I could!
Then, when France offered ME the "Order of Arts and Letters" I would at least deserve it!
(I wouldn't accept it of course. But still...)
Friday, March 04, 2005
Cloud Farms
Driving to work yesterday in the early morning, the fields and pastures glowed under the rising sun.
The flat farm fields run across with fencing, seemed to hold the great white low-lying banks of clouds in place.
In a few spots along the road, the mist wisped out across the road in trailing tufts and looked like a slow motion flight from the farm. Cars drove through it creating a swirl of white turbulence behind...
With the sun glowing pink and the tall, still leafless trees standing black against the pearly grey sky, it was a pleasant way to start a Thursday morning drive to work.
And then I arrived at the doorstep of hell.
No no no! Only happy rainbow and bunny thoughts allowed!!!
Anyway. It was a lovely bucolic scene as I made my way to my place of employment.
So I guess what I'm really trying to say is that no matter how pleasant my drive to work, it still ends poorly.
The flat farm fields run across with fencing, seemed to hold the great white low-lying banks of clouds in place.
In a few spots along the road, the mist wisped out across the road in trailing tufts and looked like a slow motion flight from the farm. Cars drove through it creating a swirl of white turbulence behind...
With the sun glowing pink and the tall, still leafless trees standing black against the pearly grey sky, it was a pleasant way to start a Thursday morning drive to work.
And then I arrived at the doorstep of hell.
No no no! Only happy rainbow and bunny thoughts allowed!!!
Anyway. It was a lovely bucolic scene as I made my way to my place of employment.
So I guess what I'm really trying to say is that no matter how pleasant my drive to work, it still ends poorly.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Ew.
I guess I'll count myself lucky with getting away with only a common head cold.
One of my co-workers came down with an interesting ailment over the weekend...he had a facial infection. (!)
He claims his face was SO infected that his eye was even swollen shut.
His nose is at least twice normal size and he's already been getting anti-biotic drips for the last three days trying to combat it.
How does one get an infected face?
Nevermind...I don't really want to know.
One of my co-workers came down with an interesting ailment over the weekend...he had a facial infection. (!)
He claims his face was SO infected that his eye was even swollen shut.
His nose is at least twice normal size and he's already been getting anti-biotic drips for the last three days trying to combat it.
How does one get an infected face?
Nevermind...I don't really want to know.
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