12 October, 2006

out, damn spot!

1. as i walked across the high level bridge yesterday, i frightened a spastic looking pigeon which flew madly off, bounced off a wire, landed lopsidedly on the road, and was promptly evicerated by a taxi. i felt rather terrible. what with the quebecois skunk, it makes for two deaths at my hands this year alone...that i know of (she adds portentously). what am i to do?

2. our goodest friend, who hosts our annual turkey weekend gorge-and-drunk-fest, knows i religiously read his blog. poor guy. we descended upon his home on friday night and did not leave until monday afternoon, and he can't even vent his true feelings about this event. he wrote some very nice stuff, when what he really wanted to write, i'm certain, was how his property value drops as yet another layer of garlic infuses his walls after our visit, how the smell of ass permeates his very own bedroom, not to mention his very own mattress, and how his children's vocabulary is once again enriched with ever intriguing variations of bilingual copulatory terms. but we left him two jars of cabbage, so we're square. sort of.

3. moving guys still have not arrived. i am assuming that somewhere on the trans-canada, you'll find a very heavily laden mule, slowly making his way west. if you happen to see him, feed him a handful of oats and a kind word. i want my down duvet soon.

4. i made soy pasta today, and damn, it was good. it was also high fibre, low carb, high protein, and very very yummy. yes, i know. i am a total food nerd. i always read the labels. always. and i cook from scratch. you can take your twinkies, your cheezies, your sody-pop, and shove'em. i will be busy chopping fresh basil.

5. honesty sucks donkey butt - i have a secret that i will share with you, but only if you promise not to tell my mom. i love diet black cherry vanilla coke. i can't finish a whole bottle at one sitting, on account of me being all dainty and shit, but it is deeeeeeelightfully refreshing.

6. speaking of numerical freakishness, being a belly-button gazer of the highest order, i went back to my early entries, and found therein the famed list of 100 things about moi. except, being a total ijit (or drunk) i counted in typical five-year-old fashion (you know, 1, 2, 6, 3, many, lots) and went from 23 to 11 and thereby my list of 100 things was actually 109 or somefink, which makes me think that even then, in those early years of careless abandon and daisy chains, i knew better than to plonk down a round number. i am sooo cool. even when i have no idea. of course being a total dork and anal queen, i had to renumber the aforementioned snafu, because if i hadn't, i would not be able to sleep at night. sad? yes, i concur.

7. yaaay. i love the number seven. which sort of pisses me off too because it tends to be Favourite Number of the Masses, what with its many religious connotations and sleek silhouette and all. and if there's one thing i hate (aside, of course, from all the other things i hate) it's to be One with the Masses. they're so dirty and smelly and ignorant, and if you happen to opine that i, too, am indeed all of those things, i will say, mayhap you are correct, good sir, but my filth, my odour, my obliviousness are special. they are of a higher class. they are of a better quality. my dirt is real dirt, not the plastic variety anyone can pick up at wal-mart. my smell is 100% non-synthetic. and my ignorance is maintained studiously.

8. well then, might as well move on to number 8, where i will tell you that i am now sitting at my table, listening to world music, drinking an australian shiraz, inhaling the garlicky aroma of the pasta sauce that graced the aforementioned pasta, and figuring that mister monkey is either dead or asleep in the bedroom. and it's not even 9pm. aah what a sexy sexy life we lead. today we looked at a condo that was very nice, proper, clean and all, and the price was decent. but mommy said no. why, mommy, why, you ask? because i did not find it sexy enough. i figure that if we are to live the quiet prim existence of an edwardian spinster, then we might as well have a sexy pad, to mitigate things a bit.

9. oh, what the hell. let the wine talk, eh? which makes me wonder - if "eh" is canadian, and "n'est-ce pas" is french, what do americans say when they want to express that sentiment? anyone? i know i have at least a sporadic american audience (if i haven't frightened them off with my rants - although the rants are usually leftist-political in nature and should not frighten off the thinking segment of the population seeing as anyone with half a brain HAS to be on my, i.e. the logical, side of the bush v. the sane universe conflict, but, as is perfectly expected of me by now, i digress). so - what do you say when what you want is a quick way to punctuate your sentence with something whose meaning can be roughly summed up as "ain't that so?" isn't "eh?" quicker and neater? (you might have noticed how i'm really into economy of expression.)
i never considered myself to be a big time eh'er, but having spent a great chunk of last year south of the border, i became very self conscious about it. i felt like i was wearing a beaver hat and guzzling maple syrup. it was bad enough that my vowels were short and my political leanings pinkish in hue, i had to end my sentences with "eh" too. i felt like such a hoser. but, damnit, i got over it.

10. rock stars be damned, i will have my crushes on chefs. i want to get a slow sexy pedicure from jamie oliver. i want nigella lawson to massage sweet almond oil into my various roly-poly bits. i want someone to make me creme brulee and spoon feed it to me in bed naked. i think this is why i married mister monkey - i subconsciously sensed his culinary potential. let me tell you, his remoulade made me moan. (but don't pass this on. it's kind of private. especially to my mom.)

11. obligatory unround number which today happens to also be a prime number. hurray for those numerical rebels! go, prime numbers, go! if i were a number, i would be a prime number and nothing else. good night.

1 comment:

Anthony said...

The smell of garlic has all but disappeared, my property values could only slide in this town if we started selling crack to babies, and I was nothing but honest with my gushing. My casa is your duplex too, ya know.

And I would totally have Nigella smear something all over me, doesn't really matter what it is. If she cooks half as good as she looks, I will HAVE to become her newest stalker.