minute wonders...

... how did i wind up with yeast-free bread? of all things.

crap.

ernesto gets hoe-slapped down to tropical storm

hurricane ernesto (one of the gayest of the gay hurricanes on this year's list of homosexual hurricanes) has proven to be little more than the flaming friend who: "swirls into town" (globe & mail); crashes your party like it's still spring break; sloshes crantinis & sex on the beach all over the room; messes up a few people's hair; dances like ABBA is on the stereo (when it isn't); and winds up passed out, half-naked, in the middle of the floor sometime around 4am.

ernesto is too drunk & slovenly to be considered as much of a whore as hurricane alberto was.

a little dash of a story for entry #101

watching that camp episode of home movies (on the box set i immediately ran out and bought afte rleaving chris and his ragingly complete collection) i get camp-pains. you know, the pains you get from old football injuries long after they've left. only with camp instead of football games. and feelings instead of kneecaps.

i went to camp once & only once. girlscout camp. alison had bragged and raved about how great it was. that you got to ride burros and hunt for boxed cereal (the little travel boxes you cut autopsy style and pour milk into) and songs that your parents would never teach you...bugspray...watching meatballs and the parent trap when it rains... that kind of crap.

so i caved. i went. and frankly, their idea of fun was not my idea of fun. getting up at 4am to polar bear swim. you know me and sleeping. and you know me when i am cold. oh boy, was i crabby. my idea of fun was sneaking out and catching daddy-longlegs spiders. of course i would name them. you know me and naming things. only i wasn't so hot at it back then and the last one i remember catching was dubbed "star" and i had the brilliant idea i'd hide her safe under my pillow at night and play with her in the morning.

i think we all know how that turned out.

well. anyhow, i was bummed about that. and then my parents came to get me at the end, and told my my guinea pig had given birth to squirmy little furry guinea pig babies. a week ago. i was obviously never going back to camp again. and i never did.

-the end.

alex found this delightful bit of wikipedia.

the garden bumblebee

and all i can say is: the only way this could be any cuter is if it were written in first person.

hey. lord of the rings. you know how i know you're gay?

birds nestin' in the hazelthicket

let us, you & i, talk about this pluto business

pluto makes a lovely planet & that is that. i am not saying, oh boy, let's just make every lame-o ball of space-dirt & asteroid a planet. that is just a bit too much for me. who wants to memorize the anagrams that would come of that mess? not me.

what would the planets be without pluto? they just get bloated & generally gigantic the further from the sun they get. pluto may not be the prettiest thing to look at but it makes a lovely end-planet. like a period at the end of a sentence. like a final tinkle of piano at the end of a song.

pluto is just great, but apparently that isn't obvious to everyone. so, i present to you a llist of

things we can do to make pluto a better candidate for a planet:

1) give it some rings or spooky-coloured space gas, so it's not such a stark contrast.

2) paint it to resemble something everyone loves:

- piccachu
- anthony hopkins
- sean connery (not my first choice, but you gotta give the people what they want)
- coca-cola
- santa
- soccer ball (maybe it won't do much for canada & united states, but they'll hopefully catch on to how awesome soccer is)

3) improve its content by way of something cool like poisonous dinosaurs. cheaper than establishing modern lifeforms. let's be practical: dinosaurs are old technology. they are the Sega to the X-box which is ourselves. sure, it's cold & the dinosaurs probably won't live very long, but a poisonous dinosaur graveyard still = awesome!

4) transform pluto into a giant Magic 8 Ball.

5) ask the other planets what they want. i bet they love having pluto as a fellow planet. pluto is, in essence, non-threatening, little (like a kitten or fish!) & makes planets like saturn look really glitzy.

6) just love it for what it is. as a planet, i mean.

i don't know what your favourite illustration for Dante's Inferno is

but this one
yes, THIS one

just hits the spot for me. delightful illustrations, characters & block letters (which, i admit, are a bit sloppy, but that is character for you). the sorceror looks particularly troubled about his choices.

what could be sexier than appearing to be potentially asthmatic?

answer = nothing!

i went on a delightful (trepidatious) trip to the doctor/walk-in today. i dragged my heels on getting this bronchitis crap checked out for a good month and man. i am tired of coughing, let me tell you.

a tip to all you ladies... one thing i have learned from the last couple years is, if i say i am still on depo they:
1) do not check to verify.
2) do not ask about periods and therefore do not lecture me about my reluctance to note/record menstruation crap.

if you are not already aware of this, let me inform you how lame obsessive feminine hygiene is. totally for squares. you give your uterus that much attention you're just encouraging it. and mine is three dashes short of being ripped out by the tentacles. or whatever those bits are. so, if you're asking yourself,"how much is too much?" i go by the general rule of anything that requires a calendar, is too much.

all in all, the visit was okay. they were all quite amused/disturbed at my competitive spirit when it came to the breath speed tester bit. (if you are not familiar, it is a little white instrument with a mouth piece. you breathe in, breathe out as hard as you can into it, and it records the mph or something). anyhow. when i say 'competitive spirit' i mean i didn't just frown and try again many more times than necessary (which i did, yes), i tried to make an actual competition of it.

doctor: okay you got...370. better!
me: your turn!
doctor:...hm?
me: see if you can beat 370!
doctor: well i don't have bronchitis.
me: prove it. (i hold out tester)
doctor: um....that's not really sanitary...
me: jesus likes us to share. oh, and get that nurse in here. i bet my lungs are twice as speedy as hers.

my competition, such as it was, was shut down immediately. oh well. i am such a sexy geek now.. oh boy! i didn't even want to sign that waiver at the pharmacists. you know, that thing that ensures my information is kept secret. i told the woman i want everyone to know what i've got.

an inhaler.


i will wheeze myself a boyfriend yet.

a little something to tizzizle y'all over until i get back

words to my new hip hop song:bitch! who drank my lemonade? i was savin' that for my homies & me.

main:
biiitch!
who drank my lemonade?
i was savin' that
for my homies & me.

i got the recipe
from foodTV
there was tons've lemon slices floatin' around
but when i opened up the fridge
it was not to be found!
biiitch!
(loop)

bridge:
male: where muh lemonade BE where muh lemonade BE (on loop in background)

female:
i watched the weather report
they say it's nice outside
so i made lemonade
oh i made lemonade

we was gonna sit on the porch
and drink lemonade
that's why i made lemonade
but where's my lemonade?

crescendo of male loop leading back into another round or five thousand of "biiitch, etc"

an open letter from me on the east coast to you, wherever you may be

dear people. and things. robots too.

i miss you & hope that things are nice. i also wish i could quit coughing, but i think all the not sleeping and cruddy buses (black people!) have re-awaked my bronchial demons. i will be with you again, shortly. in the meantime do enjoy some august-ripe tomatoes! i know i am.

sincerely,
myself