I needed that!

Josie, you just made my day. Thanks so much!

"Tai's blog really raises the values as far as good writing and subject matter. She raises the bar, and when I started reading her blog, I wanted to emulate her standards. I don't think I have ever seen Tai post a "tacky" blog post, even when her car was hit by a tree (yes...) she kept her cool."

If you haven't already rushed over to visit Josie, I think you should. There's just something about her misnamed 'boring little blog' that shines out with a splendid humour. That, and a very astute view of the world makes her blog one of the ones I read every day (and if I'm lucky, sometimes she posts twice!)
And boy, can she paint!

I've just had it up to here.

I was sitting in my living room last night when I heard a tremendous BANG.
I looked out my living room window and there was the neighbour, firmly backed into the front of my car.
My car alarm blared and sounded...my car had been hit. Again.

So can anyone tell me which god I might need to make a sacrifice too? And what, exactly, would suffice? A new tire, burnt over a sacred flame? Perhaps a fresh can of oil, tipped gently into the gutter whilst murmuring fevered words of prayer? Would sacrificing a perfectly good air filter release me from this wretched curse?

The universe hates my car.

My car and other people: A rant.

Every time I go out to my car, I see another dent or another scrape.

It's true that it's an older car, but it's a cute little sports car. It's not invisible. And it's not okay to hit my car and then drive away.
But nonetheless, time after time, my car gets hit.

What's wrong with people!?!

Example one:
All of my friends were sitting out one hot night having a gelato when I saw a man pull in front of my car to (attempt) to parallel park.

"Watch this." I said, pointing down the street.
"What?" Jeff asked.

"That guy's going to hit my car."
Sure enough, he backed right into it. Hard. Spider jumped up to run down there, but I stopped her, "Let's see if he leaves a note."

Of course he didn't. He didn't even pretend too. He inspected HIS rear bumper for damage and then turned to walk away. At that point, both Spider and I jumped up.

"Hey!" I yelled at him.

"What?" He replied.

"You just hit my car."

"No."

"Don't lie about it! My friends and I all just watched you nail it." I indicated my table of irritated looking friends who were staring at him fiercely.

"It's not that bad." He said.

"That's not really the point, is it. You hit my car, looked at your own damned bumper and you weren't even going to have the decency to leave a note, were you?" It wasn't really a question.
He looked nervously at Spider, who had whipped out her camera and was taking pictures of the incident.

"I'd like your insurance information and your licence." I said.

He looked cross and rummaged around in his glove compartment.
"You'll be hearing from ICBC. And next time you hit someone's car, do the right thing and leave a note."

Of course, there was very little damage, but the nonchalance he displayed just sent me through the roof. I never did call ICBC. But I liked to think he worried about it for a long time afterwards. (Yeah. Right.)

Example two:
I was actually sitting in my car when the person next to me opened their car door so hard it actually rocked my car when it hit. I honked my horn only to be rewarded with blank and glazed-over expressions by the lot of them.

I got out of my car, walked around to the front passenger side door to have a look at the inch and a half long gouge in the side of my car from the impact. "You just put this gash in my car." I pointed at the obvious damage.

"Oh."
"Sorry."

They were elderly and enfeebled. So I took pity on them and didn't persue the matter. But it astounded me that they couldn't be bothered to even look at the damage. Nope, they all just stared at me from inside their car.

Might have been the froth forming at the corners of my mouth that concerned them.

Another example?
No problem.

I was walking back towards my car one fine spring day and there, again, the person parked in front of me backed right up into my car. Watched him do it.
I ran up to the car and banged on the passenger side window. The girl passenger rolled down her window and looked fearful.

"Hey!" I yelled at the driver, "You just banged into my car!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's it?" I fumed. "Sorry? You weren't even going to leave a note, were you. F*uck. Just get the f*ck out of here." I don't generally curse at strangers. But when they are so obviously disinterested in their effect on me and my property, I tend to get upset.

Where am I going with this?

Well, again, today. I go back to my car and notice a fresh streak of blue paint gracing my left front bumper.

No note.
Of course.

And while I can't say I'm surprised, I sure am pissed off.

Do you think we're supposed to be up here?

When we were about 20, Kimber and I ventured to Vancouver on the B.C. Ferries.

Making our way around to the front of the ferry along the outside deck, we noted a metal girder running 'round the bow just above our heads.

(I suspect it was for the window washers to stand on and not nosy twenty year old women to clamber on).
Of course, it needed to be inspected. Always interested in climbing on things, I managed to hoist myself up and turned to aid Kimber.
Standing like odd mast heads at the front of the ferry, we turned around and discovered we could also peer in the large dark windows behind us. Imagine how surprised we were when we peeked through and saw a tall, slim man in a tidy blue jacket and hat standing there looking back at us.

His beard trimmed to an inch of it's life and his bearing was royal.
He had Captain written all over him.

We cringed down, but too late. He had seen us. And then he beckoned to us.
Oh no! Images of short planks and bloody thirsty sharks swimming in wait rushed through my head.
I'm not sure what Kimber was thinking, but I suspect it may have sounded something like, "My Dad's going to KILL me!"
We slithered off the metal girder and slunk around the side and looked up the long stairs to what we now realized was the ferry 'command centre'. The captain stood at the top of the stairs looking down on us. Waiting for us. A cat'o'nine tails at the ready.

Up the long stairs we climbed, whispering to each other if it wasn't too late to run away.

"Hi! I'm Captain Rush. So you want to see what the captain's station looks like? Come on in!" He grinned, ushering in the dark room.
"Here's the radar, and at night all of these lights get turned off. And over here is my chair. What do you think?"

"Uh. It's. Really. Interesting." I stammered.
Kimber nodded and looked bewildered as I felt.
Truth?

I hardly remember anything about the inside of the captain's room...I was so surprised not to get into trouble that all I recall is the darkness of the room, the glow of the radar and the Captain beaming at us.
We scurried out of there right quick, shouting 'Thank you's!" over our shoulders, than fell into a fit of giggles as soon as we rounded the corner.

Honestly, if I got into trouble more often, I wouldn't do those kinds of things!

Who needs enemies?

I awoke this morning feeling ill used and terribly sad.
When I reflected back on the night, I realized that every single dream I had had involved someone criticizing me, or making fun of me and generally questioning my right to be on the planet.
I was reduced to running to my room and sobbing wildly.
One of the dream people even made fun of me for not having any clothes from Costco. (!)

How bloody depressing.

I much prefer the dreams I have that see me eating people after wrecking unbelievable amounts of gory carnage in Safeway.

*sigh* Think I'll go out back and eat worms.

Shame.

I've been reading a report put out by the Vancouver Police department about homelessness, mental health issues and addictions.
It's a vicious triumvirate that, when allowed to flourish, is almost impossible to escape from.

Back in the late 80's and through the 90's, the BC government decided to deinstitutionalize a few thousand people and shut down Riverview, an institution built in 1915 to house and care for the mentally ill and developmentally disabled.

The plan was to create several smaller facilities.
Of course, that never happened.

The government quite literally released these troubled people out onto the street without first creating safety nets (or even shoring up the ones that existed) for those who would find themselves out in the wide world, some for the first time in their lives.

Having mental health issues, many of these people were unable to find or keep employment, leading them to dependence on that same government to aid them financially.

The welfare system allows people a monthly starvation payment of just over $800 a month these days; it's barely enough to secure a decent roof over ones head let alone pay for food and (often expensive) medications that so many of them need to remain stable.

Next stop on the way down the pit? Cheap housing. Where do you find that? Vancouver's Eastside, a notoriously evil neighbourhood that's more destitute and drug ridden than anywhere in North America.

It's where Willy Pickton hand-picked his multiple victims.

Next? Well, many people who are mentally ill often lack skills to make and maintain safe friendships, and often have strained relationships with their families due to the difficulty of caring for someone who may not be able to care back. It's a tremendous support system that most people take for granted and when it's not in place or available, has real ramifications on those that lack it.
So who comes to their 'aid' when these people end up in the wasteland of poverty and inadequate housing?

The predators. Drug dealers and pimps are very eager to make a quick buck off of people in such a vulnerable state. Many people who are seriously mentally ill find they are not able to afford their prescribed medications (or are simply not capable of continuing their treatment on their own) and turn to 'self-medicating' with (initially) cheaper street drugs and take comfort in the company of their new 'best friend'.

It's estimated that 50% of homeless people suffer from both mental health issues and drug addictions. Many facilities designed to assist those most in need refuse to aid them unless they are drug free.

Vicious, no?


I read somewhere that a society can be judged by how it treats it's weakest members.
If that is true, then it can be said that Canada is a deplorable country, allowing it's most vulnerable to perish in the streets, either by drugs, suicide or at the hands of predators.

It's all about MEME!

Two names you go by ~ Tai and Laurie. Tai (pronounced 'TAY') has been my name since I was about 12. It's really lucky when you get to pick your own name and it sticks.
Laurie is my other name.
Tai might be considered my alter ego. It's always Tai who gets the speeding tickets and in trouble with 'the man'.
Laurie's the one who goes to work everyday and brings home the bacon. Looking closely at this arrangement, one would suspect Laurie would get tired of having to pay for all those speeding tickets. But there ARE benefits. Tai gets free trips, new cars and adventures that could never happen to anyone else, and naturally, Laurie gets to go along for the ride.

Two things you are wearing right now ~ Two pairs of socks. One pair black, the other, white. It is VERY cold in my house.

Two things you would want (or have) in a relationship ~ Free trips. New cars. I'm kidding. Mischief and laughter.

Two of your favorite things to do ~ Reading and dining out. They go remarkably well together.

Two things you want very badly at the moment ~ An open ended plane ticket and enough money to travel in style. It's not too much to ask!

Two pets you had/have ~ Bentley. My gorgeous old gentleman cat. I still miss him. And Wen. Pol and I decided to have pet mice, so we each got one. Wen, and Doubt. But Doubt was a bit vicious and liked to bite, so we traded her in for Mousameeque (my own spelling...I wonder if Pol spelled her name the same way!).

Two people you think will fill this out ~ Who ever would like too! Mostly everyone already has done this...I'm so behind.

Two things that you did last night ~ Went for dinner with a friend of mine and ate oysters, both raw AND cooked and read a travel book.

Two things you ate today ~ Bacon. (The bacon Laurie brings home!) And a fruit muffin for breakfast.

Two things you’re doing tomorrow ~ ooooh, I'm going to WORK! And then I'm going to do my volunteer shift at the local crisis centre.

Two longest car rides ~ From Courtenay to Lake Tahoe in a truck. I would climb through tiny window to get to the back of the truck at 80 mph just to feel the Nevada sunshine on my face. Now THAT was fun. And from Banff, Alberta back to Courtenay.

Two favorite holidays ~ Halloween and...and...I guess I don't really get a kick out of holidays, but I sure do like the time off!

Two favorite beverages ~ Wine. Red AND white.

Two people no longer alive who you’d like to talk to ~ Well, I'd like to talk to my Grandmother again. We got along very well, but we never really 'talked'. She was very 'old school' and I don't think she thought an 18 year old kid was really set for conversation. I'd also like to talk with Richard Feynman. He was a quantum physicist and Noble prize winner. His books are so filled with life and laughter it seems to me that he would be a truly amazing person to sit and speak too.

In a strip club.

Drinking pop.

'Cus that's what he liked to do.

*The pictures are from Spider, Pol, Jeff (our personal photographer and Spider's dear husband) and my trip to Italy last year. The first and last picture are from the Cinque Terre and the mask in the centre I found in Venice.

In the first picture, I ordered to much food. The last picture is the 3 of us hiking the Cinque Terre trail between villages.

Wash your own cups.

"I'm going to ask you a question." She wandered over to my desk. "Just out of morbid curiousity, do you have to wash the doctors' and executives' cups?"

"No, not here." I replied, "But I've had to do things like that other places."

"Well, I think I came up with a good plan. I washed the floor with an old rag and then used that to clean out her cup. Guess that'll be the end of that!"

She did WHAT?!? Was she serious? I couldn't quite tell, but she seemed a little too pleased with herself.

She didn't say she was thinking about doing that, or thought it might be funy, oh no.

That sentence definately spoken in a past tense sort of way.

Several thoughts popped into my head after that bizarre converstion.

Like, why would she tell me that?

And why not just tell the woman, who's cup she soiled, that it wasn't her job to clean cups? Or perhaps put a sign up at the sink for people to wash their own used mugs?

And how would the woman whose cup was treated so poorly KNOW that had occured unless the dirty swill was left in the cup?

That kind of thing could go on for years, if left unchecked. What next? A quick rinse in the toilet?

Talk about passive aggressive.

Handmade.

There's something really lovely about a friend who is coming to visit you for a weekend. There's even something better when she says, "And I'm bringing a little present for you, too."

Let me give you some history. Spidergirl (and Kimber and Pol, of course!) and I have been friends since we were 11.

When I was about 12 I discovered, sadly, that my profession of choice was no longer a viable option in this day and age.
Instead, I would have to get a regular kind of job. A kind of job that didn't highlight cutlass and pistol proficiencies in it's requirements. And pillaging was certainly no longer a sought after 'skill set' on the modern 9-5 market.

Yeah, I wanted to be a pirate.
Never mind that I couldn't abide 'roughing' it. Never mind I didn't know how to operate a flintlock or batten a hatch. Ignore the fact I couldn't swim.
I was willing to learn. And I never get sea sick.

So fast forward 24 years to this weekend, when Spider came to visit with a present.

You know, this present was spectacular. It was a handmade representation (complete with gold glitter and button Kraken eyes) of me and my age old dream.

But it wasn't just the present, you know, that made me cry when I received it. There was this whole other feeling that struck me. It was the idea that my dear friend truly knows me. Knows me that well (and still loves me!).
That my friend remembered and wanted to celebrate that 12 year old kid who never got to be a pirate.
And she's not the only one!
Last year Pol surprised me, too.

She said she saw this and HAD to buy it, 'cus it reminded her of me.

How'd I get so lucky?

Whew!

Well, I barely made it through this Christmas in one piece. I've had better ones, and I've had worse ones, but this one was a real mixed bag.
But I shan't waste valuable time complaining.

Let it be said, however, that I may take a wee break from blogging for now, just to settle my head and soul.
I'll always read all your wonderful blogs, and leave pithy (I hope) little comments to let you know I'm hanging about.

All the best to everyone over the remainder of the holidays! And the very best to all in the New Year.

Whimsical Wednesday.

Okay. I just made up 'Whimsical Wednesday'. And there's no guarantee that it'll happen every Wednesday.

In fact, it won't happen next Wednesday at all, what with it being Christmas and all.

But that's the whimsy part. It's when the whimsy strikes. And it may not be on Wednesday's either.

Just so we're all clear on this from the get go.

I'm reading one of my favorite authors at the moment, Robertson Davies. He was Canadian. But now he is dead. Which makes me sad because that means there will be no more of his wonderful books to read.

What I'm currently reading was written in the late forties and early fifties under the nom de plume, Samuel Marchbanks, who is a decided curmudgeon.

I wanted to share.

*Of Lumpism*

"I became involved in an argument about modern painting, a subject upon which I am spectacularly ill-informed; however, many of my friends can become heated, and even violent on the subject and I enjoy their wrangles. In a modest way, I am an artist myself, and I have some sympathy with Abstractionists, although I have gone beyond them in my own approach to art.

I am a Lumpist.

Two or three decades ago, is was quite fashionable to be a Cubist, and to draw everything in cubes; then there was a revolt by the Vorticists who drew everything in whirls; we now have the Abstractionists who paint everything in a very abstracted manner. But my own small works (done on my telephone pad) are composed of carefully shaded, strangely shaped lumps, with traces of Cubism, Vorticism and Abstraction in them for those who possess the seeing eye.

As a Lumpist, I stand alone."

From:

The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks

1947

The Three Musicians

Picasso

1921

Something for nothing.

The other day I went for dinner with a friend of mine.

She had gone to the washroom when the waitress walked by with a tray of fresh oysters to give to the man sitting behind me.

Leaning back in my chair, I asked him if he knew if they were still serving them. I had thought service had ended at 6:00 and it was just after that.

"They were serving them an hour ago when I ordered them." He replied, sourly.

I laughed, "You would have had a feast faster if you had run down to the beach and picked them yourself!"

"I'll try that next time." He chuckled.

My friend returned to the table and we began discussing dinner options. I mentioned to her that I would have liked some oysters, but they had stopped serving them.

Just as we concluded making our selections, the man behind me walked over with his plate of oysters, 4 left, and presented them to me. He said, "You might as well have these ones, they've brought my entree now and there's no room on my table."

Those oysters were delicious!

My friend laughed at me the rest of the evening. "This kind of thing happens to you all the time, doesn't it."

She's right. It does.

But I figure something has to make up for the tree on the car last month.

Nothin' new.

Nothing of interest to expound upon here, my friends!
Just a note to say, "Hello!"

Strange memories.

Many years ago, I worked as a florist.
I designed many arrangements and as a bonus, I got to deliver them as well.

On one occasion, I was to deliver a 'Get Well' bouquet.
The house I pulled up in front of was old and odd and ramshackle. The yard had grown wild and was swallowing the house.

I climbed the rickety stairs, not sure what I was going to find, but the golden eyed cats that followed felt reassuring to me.

The door opened to an equally untamed looking old man. He had the look more of absent-minded untidy bachelor than anything else.
Looking surprised to see me, he graciously took the bouquet, explaining sotto voce that the flowers must be for his wife, Jenny, who was lying in the other room.

I commented on the beautiful cats that had gathered around his feet. By this time 4 of the sleek black beasts had emerged from the shadows and were lolling about.

"Ah!" He sounded excited. "Do you know what kind of cats they are?"
I shook my head.
"These are the beautiful Bombay cats, breed for their golden eyes. My wife loves them, and they're very gentle. Do you like cats? Do you have a minute?"

I said yes to both questions.

He vanished back into the dark house and re-emerged a moment later with a beautiful book about cats, to which he had already turned to the pages on the Bombays.

I don't remember much about the actual words he spoke, or the information he imparted. But I remember clearly the excitement and enjoyment he obviously was experiencing at sharing his love and knowledge with someone.

Eventually I had to leave. Work has a way of interfering in real life.

A month later the flower shop received an order for an 'In Sympathy' bouquet. I piled it into the van, checked the address and off I went.

It wasn't till I was almost in front of that same house that I realized what had happened.

Jenny must have died from her illness.
I felt so sad and sick.

The cats didn't come out from their shadows and no one answered the door.

I had to leave the bouquet on the front step.

I'll always wonder about that man.
How he coped.
If he coped.

I'll never forget how happy he was to share something of himself that day, though his wife must have surely been very ill at that point.

I wished that he had been home so I could have expressed my sorrow, patted the cats, said something. Thanked him.

And he's stayed in my memory all these years. Him, his 'beautiful Bombay cats' and his wife Jenny, to whom I delivered flowers to twice, but who I never, ever saw.





A Vase of Flowers
Paul Gaugin
1896

On announcing what's better left unsaid.

This morning I saw a parked 1996 black Pontiac Sunfire with an air-freshener that read as follows:

"I ♥ my penis".

For once, I'm at a loss to describe accurately my series of thoughts on that statement. But I do have a series of questions regarding this bold announcement.

First. Why!?! WHY did this person find it necessary to relay this information to the world?

Second. Is penis some new 'werd' for something else? Am I so non courant that there's some other meaning for this word that I'm not aware of? Is this person (and honestly, it's uncertain if they be male or female) making a reference to some new thing?

and

Third. Does displaying this...this...this reference of self-adoration expected to bring in exclamations of congratulations? Because I'm telling ya, my response is to steer clear and shoot disgusted looks at the owner. Among other things.

That's all.

I remain perplexed and more than a little grossed out.

All's quiet over here.

After the drama of last weekend, I'm pleased to say that this week and end has been quiet. No trees falling, no crushed cars and no interviews.
Peace has returned.

Due to last weeks incident, I have been reflecting on my car luck ("carma"?). Out of 5 cars I've owned, all but one has suffered the slings and arrows.
One of my vehicles (an older Honda Prelude) was stolen 2 twice and broken into more times than I can count.
Some desperate person even peeled the passenger door away from the frame of the poor car to get in late one night.
All that effort for an ashtray. It was never recovered.

My current car also suffered. It, too, was stolen twice. The second time I actually heard it being stolen as I lay in my bed.
I had arrived home around 11:00pm and snuggled into my bed 20 minutes later preparing to sleep. I was surprised when I heard a car start up...sounded just like mine with that give-away fan belt screech.
"That's my car!" I thought. "No. That's silly. Must be another car with that same ailment."
"No. That really IS my car!"

I jumped out of bed, pulled on some shoes and went racing downstairs prepared to do battle. In retrospect, that was a bad idea but I didn't stop to think about it at the time. Someone was stealing MY car!

And...my car was gone.
The next day, I saw my upstairs neighbour and told him what had happened.
"Oh no." He said. "I saw your car peel out of the parking lot and thought it was you. I actually had to step out of the way so the car could get by. I couldn't see in!"

The same car also suffered from being rear-ended by a police officer. As it was pouring rain at the time (it was truly torrential) he opted not to get out of his vehicle, and instead I was forced to stand shivering in the rain in order to get his insurance/license information. And then he tried to blame me for stopping too short.
I mentioned that the large van pulling out in front of me rather forced my hand, but he remained unamused and appeared rather annoyed during the whole exchange.

So there you have it.

This may explain why I was able to take the car crushing tree of last week so calmly.
It's not like it's the first time something like that has happened!

Perhaps the Universe, in an effort to make up for it's past indiscretions and to balance things out a little, may consider presenting me with a new car? Preferably in silver? With the initials BMW emblazoned on the grill?
You know, the pendulum has to swing the other way too, sometimes!

It started out to be such a nice weekend.

My long weekend started out like any other. I traveled to the lovely town of Courtenay, BC where my friends and family reside. I had a great time with my Mom and Dad and Kimber and Spider Girl.

Then we went for a trip through an unusual art display born from George Sawchuck's imagination and created entirely by him, a few wooded acres and his chainsaw. It stood complete with 'shrunken heads' hanging from trees and wooden salmon floating in ponds.

And then?

And then a tree fell on my car.

And then the television crews showed up. (Two of them, as a matter of fact! Not to mention the newspaper reporter.)

The first windstorm of 2007 downed a huge tree that just happened to fall directly on to my car. (Well, truth be told, it's Whatshisface's car, but nonetheless.)

I had awoken to a cacophonous crash, then SpiderGirl shouting "TAI! TAI!! TAI!!!!!!!!!" I thought a tree had fallen through her house where I was a guest. But no.

It was a great huge tree falling across my car, instead.

I have to say, it's not the most pleasant way to wake up!

After much fussing and calls to the police, Hydro came and cut the offending tree away, leaving my car dented, damaged and ill equipped for travel.

The train seemed like a good idea, so I popped in to the train station to see if I could book a ticket for Tuesday afternoon. What providence! There was Ian from 'Or so I thought' and his lovely wife Wendy. Wendy, too, had to get back to Victoria and was catching the train.

After some discussion, my Mom and Dad decided to drive me the 300km (200+miles) from Courtenay to Victoria to ensure I got to work bright and early Tuesday morning. (Gee, thanks Mom and Dad.)

Once I returned home, my neighbour rushed over, "Was that YOU on t.v.? I just saw! Are you okay?"

I logged in to check my blog, and I saw that dear Josie from 'C'est La Vie' had sent a comment, "Were you just on tv??"

It seems I've had my 15 minutes of fame, and I didn't even get to see it! We have no cable, you see.

I hope my hair looked ok, I mean, it was pretty windy out. (Heh!)

GMO's.

I had a huge long post about genetically modified organisms, 'pharming', and 'frankenfood' that I wanted to put up...but it's vanished most unexpectedly. (Lucky for you!)

Besides, my ignorance about biotechnology is vast and far reaching, and I would hate to demonstrate it in front of all of you fine people (I say that like I've never let it happen before!).

But hear me out here...there's one thing about GMO's that makes me nervous.

It makes me nervous that there isn't any labelling to tell me what I'm putting in my mouth. Shouldn't there at least be a label which would allow me to make an 'informed' purchase?

It's argued that even before Gregor Mendel we've been dabbling in genetics; we've always adjusted our food to better suit us so what's the problem with it now?

Well, I supposed that's true. To a degree.

But somehow I don't believe that Mendel foresaw us splicing fish gene's into soybeans. Or being able to create a 'suicide seed' that allows only one harvest with no viable seed for next year. (Which is certainly an effective way of cornering the market! Patent your hi-tech seed. Buy all other non-engineered competing seed companies. Make your seed 'terminate' after a single harvest. Et voila! A monopoly.)

And it's not to say that I would instantly argue that biotech is going to destroy our planet and gobble itself into nothing due to sheer greed.

I won't instantly argue that, but truth be told, I'm baffled as to how to truly educated myself on this subject.

Everyone involved in this has diametrically opposed views, and most of what's written about it scans more like propaganda than intelligent argument.

So I don't know.

What do you think?

Meme!

1. Name one person who made you laugh last night? Whathisface! He always makes me laugh.

2. What were you doing at 0800? Work! Work! Work!

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Work! Work! Work! (Okay, I lie. I was blogging.)

4. What happened to you in 2006? I quit my job and moved to a new city. How's that?

5. What was the last thing you said out loud? "Rhonda? Heloise? Miranda? Patricia?"

6. How many beverages did you have today? One cup of tea and one cup of apple juice and one cup of water.

7. What color is your hairbrush? Black and hairy.

8. What was the last thing you paid for? I was supposed to pay for that?

9.Where were you last night? Completely secured behind double locked doors. At home. Honest!

10. What color is your front door? White. And brown. I have two front doors. (see how nicely that ties into question # 9?)

11. Where do you keep your change? My change exists in my mind, waiting for the right moment to emerge, a butterfly from a shriveled cocoon. Did I misunderstand the question?

12. What’s the weather like today? Not raining. When you live in a 'rain-forest' there are only two types of weather. Raining and Not Raining. So it's fabulous today!

13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor? I once had Gorgonzola and pear flavored ice-cream. That rocked. Otherwise? Meh.

14. What excites you? Buckling into my seat on the plane, hearing the engines roar, and knowing that I'm about to embark on a grand adventure. This was Kimber's answer, but it was so good that I just had to use it. Thanks Kimber!

15. Do you want to cut your hair? Why, does it look that bad?

16. Are you over the age of 25? Yes, by a whole crazy decade!

17. Do you talk a lot? Me? Talk a lot? Like go on and on to anyone about anything? Or does this refer to blathering at strangers in line ups, or chatting with employees over the phone? Nah. Can hardly get a word out of me.

18. Do you watch the O.C.? The what? The Ocean Cartographer? The Other Chowder? The Ornery Child? These questions are tough.

19. Do you know anyone named Steven? Yes! And...what? That's it? Checking up on me, eh?

20. Do you make up your own words? Are you referring to portmanteaus? Well, why didn't you just say so? I don't make up words, but I spell real ones wrong often enough to have them become words in their own right. 'Stuipd' comes to mind.

21. Are you a jealous person? No way!

22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’. No. I won't do it.

23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’. Sure is a lot of concern around the letters my friends names begin with. Must be some kind of psychosis.

24. Who’s the first person on your received call list? Eh?

25. What does the last text message you received say? What's that? Text message you say?

26. Do you chew on your straw? Nope. Hay, but never straw.

27. Do you have curly hair? Nope.

28. Where’s the next place you’re going to? I think I'm going to hop on a plane and head to Phoenix one of these days! I'd like to see a desert.

29. Who’s the rudest person in your life? There once was an evil bosslady name Agnes. She had bloody claws and flaming nostrils and could swallow a person's self esteem whole. And she was also very rude.

30. What was the last thing you ate? A Quaker Honey and Oats bar. Mmmmm.

31. Will you get married in the future? Yup.

32. What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past 2 weeks? I just watched "Shallow Grave" last night, it was so sinister. Just great!

33. Is there anyone you like right now? What a weird question! There are so many people that I like right now. Is this question supposed to be directed to a person who normally hates the world or something?

34. When was the last time you did the dishes? Sunday? Monday? Hard to say, I try to block those incidences from my mind!

35. Are you currently depressed? Ha!

36. Did you cry today? No, why? Going to prescribe something?

37. Why did you answer and post this? 'Cus Kimber told me too! And besides, it's kinda fun!

Happy Hallowe'en my ghoulish friends. Don't worry 'bout the things that go 'bump' in the night...it's probably just me running into the furniture!

(Now there's a scary thought!)