my new hobby

jdate.com - the jewish singles network.

i think i saw it on family guy, and just went there out of boredom. i didn't expect to find it was a real place- lo and behold, it was and now i am listed as "willing to convert". little do they know i really mean

willing to convert:
fractions into decimals
oxygen into carbon dioxide
wine into sex
water into urine
gay into bi
money into goods and services
fahrenheit to celsius (with the help of the internet)
jews into atheists

also, after finding out i am probably some high-functioning girl with aperger's syndrome, i was contemplating a singles' network for people with the same syndrome- covering the whole spectrum.

profile questions include
what are you here for: 'someone to take care of me long-term', 'one-night organization party', 'just talking- don't touch me!', 'i want to put things up your nose'.

what kind of music do you listen to: 'classical', 'none'

what is your favorite color?
what colors should your date avoid wearing?

and all the questions explain exactly what to do. ex- "if it is orange, hover your mouse and click over the box in front of 'orange' to the left of the screen right beside this question before moving on to the next one. if your colour to avoid is 'red'...."

blog death

roots in the term "bed death". something that happens to the hottest of homos, in droves. in a relationship that doesn't have any end-point, or obvious expiration date, it's difficult to keep laying out the track week after week in the same direction. sure, moods change. whims change. and some weeks, fuckall happens. sometimes too many interesting things happen, and the things are so busy happening i don't wind up writing anything until all i've got is: "so...i woke up bored and wondered why my roommate always sets his stuff on the right sideof the sink and moves mine to the left...why the left? maybe i would like the right for a change."

that is something temporary. everyone who has a blog has brief-to-month-long bursts of blog-ennui, blog-related guilt, or cyclic "i am writing crap out of guilt, and it's horrible, and my hate/shame drives me even further from wanting to write-so i put it off until i write another guilt-piece" moods. i am in the latter, right now.

in a forum/relationship (if blogs are actually relationships...) that just has no forseeable end, how do you keep doing it? and...should you? should specialty blogs roll with the punches, go through name changes, get reassignment surgery, or should they be ended, closed, and left in some archived form for posterity?

in the instance of 'girl with a one-track mind', whose mind has been anything but one-track since she was outed: should she keep on adding posts that conflict with her blog title/established identity? or should she end the blog, and start writing elsewhere? (please not the newyorker). how long can people stay interested in her charity efforts? people came there for sex, stayed for sex, and either have found something else to enjoy, or they're just running on the fumes...or they've left. because it's not like they suddenly stop wanting what they came for originally.

i find it refreshing to carry on several blogs- i get tired of one, i can write about something different in another forum...but then i could easily wind up with ten blogs and that's spreading yourself a bit thin...

if i had the energy for it lately, i'd probably open an ad blog (and get eaten alive), a music blog, and a fake 'girls don't like sex' blog.

question & answer

Q:"hey, you're in the know. is zach condon the new jeff mangum with less crazy?"

A: i'm glad you asked that. glad to stop that crazy train of thought before it reaches any large cities. no, i do not think zach condon is the new jeff mangum, but i can see how a person would off-handedly think so. sure, they both are acquired tastes and appeal only to a limited fan-base. however, that's about as far as it goes. zach condon is not only "less crazy", he is younger (suppler) and deeply sonorous on levels that rely on stylistic preference more than stylistic tolerance (and/or an appreciation of disharmony) to enjoy. besides being a one-man band, playing every instrument under than sun (as opposed to jeff and his acoustic-y guitar), zach could not express more apathy to his lyrics if he tried. we all know jeff & his lyrics. moving on. if you were looking for a new jeff mangum in the crowd, i can't think of anyone more blisteringly reliant on odd-music taste than swan lake & sunset rubdown vocalist spencer krug (also of wolf parade.... but who am i kidding, y'all know this.)

Q: "why are all the bees dying?"

A: you're refering to the "colony collapse disorder", no doubt. for those of you who don't know...folks, expect to pull out some extra cash for honey, because this year all the bees are deciding to meet their maker. dropping dead all over the country. i am guessing this means american and canadians bees both. you'd think we'd beat you by a couple months at least...but my guess is, it is the second coming. you know how pigeons react fractions of seconds earlier to loud noises etc, than people? it's like that only with bees and maybe a year before the magical heaven-monster descends to claim us. hug us to his man-bosom. yeah, you heard it here first. other less spiritual scientists have come to the conclusion that it is, in fact.....your mother.

oh snap, i went there.


ps:

curse of craigslist

it's not like i am a lady of many wants, but one peek through the craigslist FREE board and i am pumped full of glut. what for? mostly bunnies and fish.

. lop earned bunny with all the bunny-business.
. deep freezer (to keep delicious bacon, bagels and popsicles in)
. fish tank with tropical fishes
. weird goldfishes that need a 20gallon tank
. 20gallon tank that's actually to be used for reptiles


and then there are things that perk my curiosity to the point i'd call just to releive it. like "FREE METAL (call me and i will describe it to you)". i would love to call shaun and have him describe his metal to me. i truly would.

sunshine

things that lead me to believe this movie will be one quick-burning ball of gas:
"'it’s about how the crew react under the enormous pressure of their endeavor to save mankind.'"

yeah, that's an original premise.

"'Traveling to the Sun is great visually, but also very interesting psychologically,' he explains. 'We wanted to make the film as psychological a journey as possible.'"

oh a psychological journey on top of that... dude, it's like old mayonnaise on old ham. an old condiment just doesn't improve an old slice of meat. add them together, they just become more unappetizing.

being honest here: psychological journies only maintain interest so long. we have to care about the cast in order to care about their 'psychological journey' and even then, they've got to be balanced by very tangible things. are pretty space footage and explosions enough? i'm hoping so, because otherwise i'm guessing it's a nap-o-rama. we all thought taking psychology our freshmen year was cool. well, it wasn't.

so the cast:
actors? too pretty. too serious. their grave personnas just make me want to stick things up their noses. it's like the back-up cast for Grey's Anatomy or some gap commercial... despite the fact they were plucked from different cultures, they form one monotonous, pretty blob.



a movie that did manage to balance psychological journey with visual interest? science of sleep. good movie. texture-y and layered and full of the luscious male lead. who is allowed to be pretty because a) he sticks out like a sore thumb in the pointedly less-pretty cast. b) each character has very vivid points of character development. two seconds of a person from the office, and we have a rounded, extensive history in our little heads. c) we are not supposed to take him seriously. he is neurotic and silly and scattered.

keeping in mind, his psychological journey is one that isn't pointed out from the beginning, and it's a specific, rare condition. it's not "here's a cast! now see what happens when we apply pressure."

the filmmakers:
in their history? 28 Days Later. yikes.


i watched maybe five seconds of the trailor. went back and watched the rest just a couple minutes ago. sigh. i was ready to turn away right from the moment when the one shapelessly-pretty girl faces a mirror and her voice draws heavily, "are you scared?–...i am."

i hope the mission fails, honestly. that's not an original concept, but at least it's not so rank with former space-mission movie stink.

ps: suns are gay.

the hideous world of banjos online:

ezbanjo.com
says i could be like this:

oh boy.

some available songs:

Ah Spring
Alice's Waltz
Big Sandy River
Bean Blossom
Boogie Du Jour
Doug's Tune
Skippy the Bush Kangaroo (kangaroo? traditional bluegrass, my hiney.)
Plastic Banana

UPDATE:

looking for music online, here was a little synopsis of a banjo book...

"it includes everything you need to know to start playing banjo, including: a history of the 5-string banjo, getting acquainted with the banjo, Scruggs tuners, how to read music, chords, how to read tablature, right-hand rolls and left-hand techniques, banjo tunings, exercises in picking, over 40 songs, how to build a banjo, autobiographical notes, and much more!"

how to build a banjo? seriously?

movie title that sucks.

reign over me
what a gay 9/11 movie. it's like they sat around picking mood-board words and plugged in characters. "something heartwarming, sad, but with men...ethnic men! and...and 9/11." or maybe their words were just "gay with adam sandler crying". seriously. reign over me? why don't they just call it "black man pees on white man in a sexual way"...

it was bound to happen...

i have reached the end of my 'banjo primer' dvd.

still, i know maybe two things that could pass for songs. why does rhianna get all the fun tabs? maybe because she pays more. but either way, i would like to learn something less 'plink-a-plink-a-plink-a-chord!'

so searching for bluegrass banjo tabs online, here are some of my options. who the hell writes songs like this?

. big bug
. big sandy (yeek!)
. big ball in boston

O, Vacancy...

so after an early banjo jam and coffee, rhianna and i packed into her car, plugged in a cd by the format and plunged into the south/southwest neighbourhoods to look for apartments. for some reason, the only real way to find listings these days, is just to do it on foot/drive. since it was nice out, we parked the car and set off on foot.

but what started out as an enthusiastic venture, soon took a nasty dive into exhausted, borderline depression and crankiness. i can't help but feel like the whole business of looking for apartments in this city has been jiggered to let us down and leave us crabby and embittered.

of course, there's the fact rent has skyrocketed. that's okay. we expect that. but it is also difficult looking through the mixed messages employed by apartment managers. .. example?

"FOR RENT / 1 & 2 bedroom apartments! - no vacancy"
"RENT NOW - spacious apartments and suits! no vacancy"
and the delightful, "O VACANCY" (obviously the "n" had worn off, but we continued to be amused by the phrase...)

also, we had to lie about our employment statuses and make painful/hilarious jokes about being jobless to one another. wince. and tried to focus on what big lies we would tell apartment managers in place of the pathetic truths or realistic-ish-truths. my favourite was a scenario where rhianna and i were in business together making cakes. i made the cake and she decorated them. precious, huh? you bet.

sigh. but by the end of the day we were just tired and more judgmental than usual. cranky. and it didn't help that rhianna had a veggie burger from the ship & anchor that worked the magic digestive equivalent of old sea-meat left out in the sun for a couple weeks. "in calcutta. in a bucket of tapeworms and tetse flies" (rhianna).

conclusion? looking for apartments is only uplifting in situations where you're not intentionally set up for disappointment.

the only silver lining is a thin trail leading to a rental inquiries number (maybe?) for a gigantic building we would describe as an old hermit crab shell and some cute little college-studenty building caled "the harvard" which struck a cute little chord in both our hearts.

otherwise instead of her moving out of her parents' house... i will be moving in too. we can live in the pool house. that her parents should build.

dear those of you who drive or know better...

maybe you can help me. i never really had to deal with this kind of protocol in the south, so i honestly don't know: when you get a ride with someone and the car is covered in snow, do you dust it off with the brush/scraper, or do they? i always waited- if they handed over the brush i was prepared to dust away (assuming it's as easy as it looks). but always, people have just taken the snow brusher/scraper in hand and gone about doing it themselves. meanwhile, i sat and worried about it, but wondered if it was something so embedded in the canadian behaviour they didn't even notice the process of wiping snow off things. but it did come up recently and now i'm really baffled/paranoid about it.

is it just as awkward to sit in the car while the person you're driving wipes the snow off? do you trust other people to? what is fair, exactly? maybe take turns? if there were two brushes, i'd gladly split it half and half, but that seems extravagent... or is it just fair that a ride deserves not having to brush snow/chip ice away?

like i said, i just wait and see what's expected. but i wonder if i'm committing some 'bad passenger' faux pax by not doing it automatically. if my car door is unlocked, i generally unlock the driver's side before they get around to it. that much i know. but anything with cold business, i am in the dark...

for future reference: if you are driving me and want me to, i certainly don't mind. again, assuming there's no trick to it.

sincerely,
me

when i am rich...

i will swaddle you in many of these. (note: check price tag. check image. back to price tag. check bible.)

...gross.

love and goodwill drive your mother's revolution

the practice of blogging, of course, naturally brings up the question: "why blog?" and, "ps- can i make a living in my pyjamas?".

maybe it's because i'm a bad blogger, but i sure as ponies don't do it for "the need to connect. The need to love." no, i will certainly be leaving that to the gay bloggers. the gay hippies who need to connect to things. people. rocks. trees. paperclips. coatracks. marla...

sure, we could pretend. i could pretend to do all this because i need you. but who is that good for, really? if we have learned anything from jr. high, it is that people who need people are creepy and should eat lunch alone. until they learn to be independent, or a "cool outcast". then they'd have half a shot at going to the prom, sometime in highschool.

this seems to be the message perpetuated by the entire interweb as it stands. people who are too cool to need us, are the ones we flock to. people who hold out their arms for a hug? dear needy stranger: no thank you.

besides, people who say 'connect' usually don't even have a notion of what they mean by 'connecting', but they do usually have some experience with mandatory therapy/counseling.

why am i here? i am a woman of mystery. you will just have to suss it out for yourself. look inside your heart, people, and ask yourselves.

ps- you know i love you, right? i do. well. i love the neat stuff you guys have.

favourite pictures of biscuits

silly canadians. don't know what biscuits are. i've had to describe southern biscuits more than i've had to define/explain grits. god, i love grits. for those of you still lost to confusion...

these are the real biscuits:



this image notes my favourite real biscuit (it has a face! also it points out some gay ones):



this image is of cookies. not biscuits (but it makes me happy):



super gay biscuits:


dogs don't go to school...

300- the movie that totally blew me...

...away.

people. sigh. hi. i am cranky. cranky and really bored. do you have anything to share? pictures, songs? i would even accept youtube links, though even when i know i'll enjoy the link, i tend to resist. watching movies online hurts my eyeballs. what's that about? not the youtube thing. i mean the fact that my nose is leaking something that isn't even snot. it's like nose-water. like my nose is crying nose tears.

that's your attractive mental image of me, for today. tomorrow, i'll be back to hamstrings or something...

i feel sorry about how much time slipped through my hands this weekend, especially since i wasted a night or so out with the fellas... charles was nice enough to randomly snatch me up for a concert and movie. which movie? 300.

i thought peter was kidding, but no: i am a girl with the bloodlust. also a girl with raging appreciation of men in leather battle-panties. besides that and the flaming xerxes (want some jasmine flavoured butter to go with that ancient grain bread? yeah you know what i mean...), it was a bit gay how much they relied on their shields. but they had the war-assets (hee...assets) to back it up. also infanticide. seriously, 9 months is a small window to debate keeping a baby. try it on for a few weeks. months. whatever.

anyhow. 90% eye candy, some questionable narration* and nipple shots aplenty. lots of eye candy. my advice would be to take your kid to see this movie, and if they cry, whimper, or show any form of not enjoying sexy battle...? leave them on a hill. or send them to the death trap that is my apartment, to amuse and/or make food/drink decisions for me. you know how much i hate tea, but lordy have i been drinkin' it... also, i can't figure out what to eat. i consumed three bagels earlier, just so i'd not have to think about this kind of stuff for longer. it didn't really work so well as just making me feel uncomfortable.

the back of my hair dye box advised i go to garnier.com for consultation. i thought that might be interesting, but before i could get there i was sidetracked by a link to 'animated zen'- zen? bubbles. really, they are bubbles, which they call "animated virtual companions"... i am bored, but i am not so pathetic as to download friends. bubble friends.... actually i am, but it's only for PC.

i watched an old interview with woody allen where he mentioned having for breakfast: "english muffin ladled with honey and myrrh." yeah, i love him...

sigh.

i am totally angry with my head. my head is a big jerk. big, leaky, jerk head.



*note: if your voice is made to boom across a theatre in surround sound, you better have some tight editing and make sure you don't refer to a group of men as being 'hard' unless you mean they actually do have erections...

tips on how to get involved in your community (the compiled list)

#1- call more people ho's.

#2- if you are a young, stapping lad: do some volunteer landscaping. even if it is in your own yard!
as long as you are shirtless.

#3- encourage your young, strapping, twin brother to do likewise.

#4- protect local, domestic animals & wildlife from transhumanists.
squinty the bee says: only you can prevent whale cyborgs!

#5 - as much as i love people (people = hot, young, strapping lads with no shirt on) doing landscaping... community gardens are so lame that they really defeat the purpose. so, my advice to you is first of all, do not participate in community gardening. second, steal all the tomatoes. they are delicious and you will enjoy them, i just know.

#6 - if there is a person in your neighbourhood with a tail, encourage them to get an operation and become "normal". first of all, it is quite gross. and chances are, they are not nearly as helpful as you'd think. how many of them bark when there is a fire? or when a beloved falls in a well/mine/community garden hole someone forgot to fill? a tail does not a lassie make!

#7 - bark when there is a fire. or throw tomatoes that you stole from a community garden.

#8 - accuse people of being "chicken". maybe it hurts because it's true. (note: the more you get into the role of a grammar-school bully, the better.)

#9 - i'm not saying you have to go to any of these; but do keep up with when your local ballets, plays & theatrical productions are going on. you can let people know that you pay attention, in the following way:

other: hello
you: hello
other: you should come over friday night because i am having a party
you: oh no! friday is the night of the ballet!
other: oh, that's too bad.
you: (lowering your head) i don't have tickets to that.

you see, by admitting that you don't have tickets you have still accomplished your goal (letting people know you are 'with it' and have a buttload of culture) and yet, to the party you may go! rhianna and i think this process is hilarious. some people, however, don't get it...

#10 - tell people they are judged by how ugly they are.
if they do not know this already, they are probably pretty ugly and should get on top of that. sooner than later.

#11- remind old people, we could care less

#12- remind homeless people they can't afford cookies.

because we are not above complaining

things i can't taste:
. orange juice
. cinnamon raisin bagel with butter*
. the ice cream i got yesterday
. the sticky underside of the envelope flap**
. my lip gloss
. morning glory muffin (carrot cake with raisins and other stuff)
. leftover risotto
. coffee

things i taste, but only slightly:
. spicy sate soup (god bless ye, potent vietnamese soups)

what i need:
. a helper monkey
. to marry this guy


* i am pretty peeved. i got up super early to get those bagels fresh, before the swarming massess carried off my delightful breakfast loops and left me with chocolate chip bagels (oh jesus no) and the hideous few that seem to have been rolled around in bird feeders...

** not really a disappointment.

and the walls came crumbling down...

to add to my recent headcold-induced misery, the girl with a one-track mind in the new yorker.

many of you remember my rants regarding her blog: her raging virginity, her hilarious obsession with something she calls "man-cleavage", and a post that was like bad blow jobs 101 (only she didn't know they were bad). british sexperts (other than being a total oxymoron) are mines of entertainment for the sassy american lass.

no, we get it. a british woman has a sex drive. amazing, right? maybe that's a big deal over in the UK, but here? seriously. so what, we american broads have them too (if you are ignoring the wave of 'i'd rather eat chocolate' bullshit). we are far less lousy in bed, much more elegant in heels, and our voices do not grate against the ear like rusty ...well, graters.we also lack that weird jaw tension they seem to have in common with martial arts experts...

the truth of the matter is: she is a tromping clydesdale of a lady who doesn't even get laid that often. she may have a one-track mind, but her blog has drawn out topics of charities, 'newfound fame', giving bad blowjob advice to a girl in public, some lame "i heart newyork" poetry, and obnoxious "i am a british feminist" chatter, for months and months.

the only tail she's had in awhile is this exceptionally sad guy she touts as being an intellectual lover. basically, he reads philosophy in bed and meditates after sex. ha ha. is anyone's first-year-poli-sci senses tingling?

oh, and then there are the topics that barely even relate to the category of 'sex' but still, somehow, are supposed to intrigue us. for example, a massage she found arousing (given by a lady). seriously, rhianna and i were waiting for her to post something like "so today i went horseback riding..." or "i sat down on a stool in a pub with very loud bass..."

maybe if she were less mouthy about herself, a little better educated, and honestly a bit more atractive...well she'd have more to write about than talking dirty with her grandmother or something. she needs to be married already, and i think she knows it.

the new yorker. good grief. i loved that magazine. i loved that magazine and she has tainted it with her, "i'm a progressive, liberal woman who wants to speak openly" business. she is not progressive, nor liberal. and because of her level of conservativism and shoddy sexpert advice... i just hadn't dreamed that her novel (with hideous underpants/hideous type cover) would crawl overseas, let alone nudge its way into a magazine i actually happen(ed?) to enjoy.

i am a girl who holds her grudges and this may seriously give me pause at the magazine rack.

kaylen, beware the ides of march

in light of the ides of march, i woke up to a head that'd been stabbed by the vicious, mutinous blades of a headcold. a really gross model of the headcold variety, that has left me in an incapacitated state beyond the most groggy of morning hazes... i honestly could not move until well after 10. but i am a busy girl and i attempted to go and get work done at the local coffee shop.

oh, it was not meant to be.

besides not being able to taste my carrot cake & raisin muffin (very sad), i was tired of finding discreet ways to blow my nose. everyone around me was perking up at my sniffles and sneezes. so, when my laptop battery died, i trudged home. walking hurt more than i expected.

i am now a downed lady, left to watch cnn chatter and sniffle over a mint-leaf-laden bowl of spicy sate soup and making pained 'mrrrrrr' sounds. besides the 'mrrrrrr' sounds, it's not a bad set up.

long live caesar.

bridal gowns for kathleen from somethingspecialbridal.com

and my personal favourite:

faux letters

today i was asked to record myself reading off a 'letter'. any letter? well, of course the asker of this favour had written out a couple letters, but claimed that his hours of sweating only produced something like: "so... things are okay here...how are you? i hope you're okay. okay?", whereas he had intended something more quirky. so i opened my big, beautiful mouth and poured out letters for him. i knew my habit of talking in open letter form would some day come in handy. oh, and it has.

for your enjoyment, here are some of the open letters i improv'd:

dear santa,
as part of my twelve step program, i am writing all those i feel i have wronged. we have a rocky past, you and i. a past that ended in a plate full of cookies, laced with pesticides. i apologize for those cookies. still, i think you could have stepped up to the plate and told me that along with the new scrapbooking scissors (which were great) you gave me chlamydia ...(which wasn't great at all). anyhow. i have forgiven you in my heart.

sincerely,
melissa
ps- also i am writing to tell you, you should get tested for HPV.



dear alice,

so... i am writing you a letter. this letter. this letter i am writing to you with a pen. as you have probably already come to realize. this is awkward. can we just get married already? i will personally apologize to the other jane austen fan club members.

x
bill

the only punctuation in taiwan, apparently...

i mix with australians about as well as angry cats mix with other angry cats. my level of sarcasm/offensive humour directly triggers their australian-grade touchiness. the only benefit, is that special 'hey, someone who is stupid sent me hatemail" glow... anyhow, it's not news to anyone. but on top of the aussies, i find it impossible to enjoy most asian cultures. maybe the heightened deliciosity of their cuisine is to compensate for how much 'horrible' their mouths produce when not occupied.

the japanese enthusiasm, in particular, is a baffling brand of energy that is so intense, it breaches all code of 'niceness' that i associate with the demure, western enthusiasm... it really is energetic to the point of being abrasive (to delicate, little, western souls such as mine).

i am wondering if this is just an isolated case, or if i should knock taiwan off my list of nice-enthusiasm countries . here is only a fraction of an email specifying our business card print hoo-ha...

--------------------
Corner edge - is that 4 rounded corners, like a credit card?

YES, the corner edge is 4 rounded corners just like a credit card, but
more rounded!!
which means have bigger radius, it's about 25 pix!!
Just check the box in the info chart. You don't really need to make a
card with corners!!
When i send the file to print, i will tell them to cut the corners!!

- Varnish, does that cost more?

The varnish does cost more than normal paper!!
But doesn't need to cost extra !!
The price is on the list for NO.5 and NO.10 papers!!
The difference between these 2 cards is NO.5 only has one side varnish,
but the NO.10 card has 2 sides with Varnish! and NO.10 is more thicker!
The varnish part can do anything they want to be!!

- Do you need a file for the embossing - similar to the varnish?

YES!!

--------
seriously? every sentence ending in two exclamation points.
that is some hideous business, right there.

spiral patterns are the new boring

i think what miss manners says about children applies to nature. if children are so creative, how come they all draw the same? if nature is so freaking beautiful and creative, why is it just the same old spiral pattern and business over and over? everything is a cycle with nature. repetitions? boring. sure there's the occasional disaster, but it's the same disaster–just dropped unexpectedly. is a moon turning black really more interesting than an episode of, say, 'everybody loves raymond'? not by much, if it is at all...

i can't remember the last time the moon made me giggle. even raymond accomplishes that.

it's illogical to think people who are bored with nature are sad. you people who feel guilty for 'forgetting' the eclipse or not being interested enough to bother? quit it. it's frankly weird to be impressed by nature beyond the age of, say, 4. it'd be like being perpetually held captive by the four episodes of Bromwell High that they keep cycling on teletoon around midnight. dudes, nature is not an artist. no, nature is just some xerox machine that doesn't quit.

thank your boring stars for radioactive waste shaking it up a bit by the riverfront. i can't imagine how dull this world would be without our meddlesome chemicals causing amusing, pathetic, or just downright silly variations to the tiresome genetic loop. or ear mouse!



oh, earmouse. i love you.

people + nature = fun.

why, just today claire surprised me with:
a) the most unusual sentence i've heard all day. ("i didn't tell you what i saw yesterday that astounded and amazed me...speaking of animal poop" )

and

b) another delightful way we alter our buh-buh-boring animal friends. ("i saw a woman walking a dog whom she had trained to carry its own poopoo bag".)

seriously nature: start surprising me and i'll re-consider my dark desire to get a hummer with a sticker on the back similar to non-smoking stickers, only with a dinosaur.

the 22's

in light of having my birthday overshadowed by the impending wedded bliss of kathleen & peter (on my birthday, guys....my birthday) i decided to go to the handy link in rhianna's blog, listing every holiday and find out where mine fell on the established "lumpy rug" through "sea monkies" scale.

22 Business Women's Day

22 Elephant Appreciation Day

22 International Rabbit Day - Fourth Saturday in September

22 Oktoberfest

i dig elephants. boy, you know i love bunnies. a good oktoberfest? you betcha. business women would only be fun if they let me stand there squishing their shoulder pads. i used to do that to my mother. she stopped taking me to work, because i'd shamelessly reach over, squeeze her shoulder pad and say "SQUISH!", regardless of company... also, i tended to talk very loudly while drawing out stories on that fun printer paper that was connected all together... i miss that paper.

PS, kathleen & peter regarding future use of september 22nd: that day is mine and i'm just lending it to you the once. because i love you. but only once. anniversaries? you will have to scram. i hear the 21st is nice. some people prefer the 23rd. one or the other will have to do you, though.

on toothbrushes:

glory of glories! people i tell you that today i replaced my toothbrush.

i could suffer through this intolerable brusher-of-teeth (so it calls itself) not a day more. okay... i can't be too hard on the poor, old thing, for no other reason than... i sort of stole it. but let me advise you all: if you're going to steal a toothbrush from your parents' house, make sure your parents do not have sissy gums.

seriously. i called them up and demanded to know what sort of angelic, chiffon-delicate tissue their gums were made out of. and bless them for sparing me this trait in their genetic comingling.

oh, sigh. what have i been doing the last month with a toothbrush sporting such soft bristles? i dunno about you dudes, but i need at least a medium-weight bristle to rock out and/or destroy plaque bugs. i like brushing my teeth more than most things in the galaxy (few things top a sensational ear cleaning) but nothing kills the mood like soft, soft bristles. piff. like all things (including yoga*) i need to feel the burn of their respective influence, or i am left with the sensation of being ripped off.

the ideal brush is something that would shred my delicate, mouthy bits, if not used wisely. kinda like what toast does anyway, to the roof of my mouth, only with gums**. firm bristles are mandatory and, sure, those little waggles of rubber that i resisted so long–they actually feel nice against my gums!–are welcome on any tooth brusher of mine. you won't, however, see me backing any brushes that subscribe to special, added, tongue-brush business.

toothbrush conclusions:
a) you are one big raging lady if you need soft bristles. you are also no friend of mine.

b) if you can't flip over the brush to scrub your tongue, you are gay. it's not like you can brush both at once anyhow.



* i went back to yoga this week. it feels like someone replaced my hamstrings with barbed wire and muy pequeno , ferocious squirrels.

** i got a hotdog at the school's cafeteria the other day, and i was asked, "do you want the bun toasted?"... dear lord, no, i do not want the bun toasted. who would?

unpleasant truth campaign

if you haven't seen it yet-- melting ladies who are sick with baby

if i have learned anything, it is that sun kills expecting snowman-mommys.

shush... don't say a word (you delicious mangos)

Sounds like maybe they were talking back to you.

well, anonymous person;

i don't know why you said that, but i'm glad you did.

you see, my friends, i spent a night thinking how awesome that would be: to have little interludes with my dinner ingredients as i'm preparing dinner. i could go through the grocery store, talking to my ingredients, making them prove their prowess by answering random trivia or freestylin', before i pick them.

but today, the clouds of doubt and suspicion have descended across my brow... and i'm pretty sure that's not a good idea at all. the delicately wonderful relationship i share with food would be put to the test- i'm sure there are certain foods i would gladly shove in my mouth but i'm sure they'd never hold up in a real conversation. like mangos. sigh. i could see myself hating a talkative mango and that is something i don't want to dwell on... having a better relationship with, say, flax seeds... just isn't worth the cost of a good mango.

no talking foods for me, now or ever.

in fact, i wish i could talk to more people like they were inanimate.

oh no you di-in't

when it comes to 'yo mama' jokes, everyone has a different palette. like snowflakes, we are each unique in our 'yo mama' preferences. so of course i cannot speak for everyone, but here is a list of my old favourites.


nasty:
. yo mama so nasty she made speed stick slow down.
. yo mama so nasty she has to creep up on bath water.

stupid:
. yo mama so stupid she got stabbed in a shoot out.

there's the double-hitters which cover poor & stupid:
. yo mama so stupid she put out the cigarette butt that heats your house.
. yo mama so stupid when your daddy said it was chilly outside, she ran out with a spoon.
. yo mama so stupid she makes you eat cereal with a fork to save milk.

particularly sad:
. yo mama so fat she fell in love and broke it.

ugly:
. yo mama so ugly they filmed gorillas in the mist, in her shower.
. yo mama so ugly, if ugly were bricks she'd have her own projects.
. yo mama so ugly your daddy takes her to work with him just so he doesn't have to kiss her goodbye.
. yo mama's so ugly, they push her face into dough to make gorilla cookies.

something so fun to say, it's a shame you can only say it while insulting someone's mama:
yo mama so poor she drives a peanut.


...mm gorilla cookies.

good banana bread, but still...

okay. i tend to talk to things in the grocery store.

"where do peppers live..oh there you are, peppers. who's lookin' to party? hey pretty baby-in my sack you go. any other takers? oh i don't want you, you're too spicy for me...whew!"

today, i get home and laid out before me, they are strangers to me, all. the only thing i can say to them is a squinting, "wait a minute... who are you guys?". what on earth possessed me to get: gigantic asian noodles; a sack of dark baking chocolate (i do not even like dark chocolate!); a can of corn; pinto beans; yams; and a loaf of banana bread?

it's good banana bread, but still...

potent and delicious

i love these little nature clips + narrator they show on TCM between movies. especially ones with big words and baby foxes. if there is anything cuter than a tumbly, tiny, baby fox, i don't know what it is. it may be in black & white only but what a delight... they just don't narrate them like they used to.

"...and all things were imbued with a subtle and delicious vitality."

"alas, the valiant mother would never return. who was to tell them? raindrops fell like tears upon the leaves. land and sky merged in sympathetic mourning. poor little mother. poor little orphan."

"the forest no longer enchanted him. now it was potent–and threatening."

i know foxes don't go to school. but i think i know how he feels. graduation is potent–and threatening."