31 October, 2007

Don't get upset with your small penis anymore

from my spam folder:

Do you feel discontent whenever you recollect the dimensions of your phallus?
Forget about your problems!
Now you are obtaining a great occasion to improve your phallus, so that no girl in the world could resist you.
Your dreams of long hard Dik will come true with MegaDick!

good god. why do i even bother blogging when i can just copy and paste these linguistic and thematic gems? but yes, i do feel discontent whenever i realise i actually have no phallus and cannot pee standing up. damn.

also:
as far as everyone can see, your dick needs some serious improvement
which makes me ask: who's looking at my dick, yo?

and then:
never have bad sex again when your cock is enlarged by 3 inches
because as evey woman knows, it's ALL about size. am i right ladies? now come on down and i can obtain for you a great occasion for some seriously improved megadick sex.

teehee.

25 October, 2007

terror in the kitchen, terror in the bath, terror all over the damn house

the moon is full tonight, or relatively close to it, and my reaction is to get depressed, antsy and picky...er, pickiER than usual. i seem to be seeing more hummer-driving dicks, i seem to be feeling more than typically overwhelmed by the thoughtlessness of the human race, and i see mister monkey a million miles away.

yeah. boo freakin' hoo. it is the super shiny privilege of a middle class DINK in the first world to suffer existential angst. most of the rest of the world is too busy scrounging for food. perspective? i gots it. i just forgets sometimes.

i think tonight will be a night that i curl up in my ultra-fabulously comfortable bed and think warm and mellow thoughts about my favourite spacewhip captain.* good night and don't let the werewolves bite.


* if you have to ask who i mean, you are sooo out of my club

24 October, 2007

so ferocious

i was reading the sun this morning (only because i had a cancellation and it was the only newspaper available - normally i like papers that feature complete sentences and slightly fewer car ads and nekkid chicks) and lo and behold i read this. so because i am a basically decent human being i experienced concern and worry and all that crap, because hey, these are people i worked with for 4 years. and then i thought, why doesn't the interesting stuff happen at an office while i am actually working there? why does it happen after i leave? nobody ever tried to bite me...wait, that is a blatant lie, but nobody ever tried to bite me on the arm while i was not actively working on their mouth, and i want to know why. i demand to know why.

seriously though, i hope everyone gets well and the perp gets caught and fed some dried frog pills, so we can all go to work in relative safety.

i was also going to make a comment about alberta's oil company oil revenue debate but i am way too tired to save the world this year. in fact, in an attempt to relieve my palpitating little heart, i am declaring a moratorium on books about deforestation, water-wastage, any and all environmental disasters* etc; cbc programs about the above; NPR programs on ditto; and generally anything that will make me feel more anxious and depressed than i am in my natural state. i am diverting lots of cardboard and plastic from the landfill by recycling at my office. that's all i have the energy for right about now.

and speaking of environmental disasters, i have to say i hated driving the company truck to edmonton these last couple of times - i am actively embarassed to be seen getting into a ford truck, worse yet a dodge sheep. and the thing that really pisses me off is that i lose my moral high-ground: how can i flip off hummer drivers with any degree of sang-froid and superiority when i am riding exactly on their level?

but i understand now why so many truck drivers are assholes - i was an asshole too! driving a truck made me into a total asshole. ok, so i still signalled and all, but i think that was residual toyota thinking there. i was rude, cocky, fast and generally a classic lobotomized asshole truck driver. it made me giggle a little. but then i got back into our toyota and had the decency to feel embarassed. so if i passed you these last couple of weekends and you thought to yourself, what a frickin' asshole, i'm sorry. it was the truck's fault.


*i'm looking at you, tony

23 October, 2007

do bald eagles sport comb-overs?

i've been listening to the news lately and there seems to be some sort of a conflict between the turks and the kurds. my response to this is dangerously homeric, and let me emphasize that i mean homer simpson here. every time the announcer mentions kurds, my mind automatically goes: "mmm...curd...lemon curd." on occasion it also goes: "mmmm...cheese curds." i kid you not. i mean we are talking about a serious political situation which is probably going to turn violent, and all i can think of is lemon curd.

but hey, have you ever had really good homemade lemon curd? it is a little piece of mouth heaven, s'all i'm saying.

20 October, 2007

dendrites! let's talk about dendrites!

the other day i walk into my boss's office, and he's sitting there softly singing the big mac song to himself. he looks up when i walk in and tells me in a somewhat concerned voice that more north american children* know the words to that song than the words to the lord's prayer**. he then says he bets i don't know all the words to the lord's prayer either***. you bet right, i tell him, i'm an atheist. he takes this as some kind of seriously shocking news which i find funny because i would never in a million years have pegged this muscle-bound potty-mouthed ex-party boy as a church-goer, but then again, there's a tonne of sunday christians out there, a fact that bothered me as much during my full-week-christian phase as it does now, what with the hypocrisy of it all. i mean, if you're gonna have a really really big imaginary friend, might as well make it a full time occupation, no? show a little respect to the big kahuna, to the creator of the universe. or, like me, be honest about it.



*well, can we assume then that the population of north america is perhaps changing? that the new immigrants aren't all neat white people with a recognizable respectable religion, but instead more and more of them are oddly hued weirdos with bizarre foods and strange non-jesus based beliefs? shudder. can you imagine? poor beleaguered christians, poor white christian men, finally having to come to terms with the ethnic stats of the planet...

**well, a musical ingredient list of a big mac is admittedly a little shorter. plus it has rhythm.

***as a matter of fact, i do know all the words.

17 October, 2007

decaf blab

you know what? you're cute. you, yes you. you're cute when you march into my office and pretend you know what you're talking about, like when you inform me that you have "an exposed nerve." hmmmm, an exposed nerve? sounds serious! what do you figger we should do, doc? sew it back up or what? should i break out the defibrilator? CLEAR!!! we have an exposed nerve! damnit, jim! i'm a doctor not a nervician! sweet lord! an exposed nerve!

it's called recession. and your nerves are inside your tooth. ok? ok.

you're also cute when you quote previous clinicians and the retarded stuff they allegedly told you to do: "my last hygienist told me not to brush by the gums." aha. was she shooting heroin at the time? or giving you a lap dance?

and you're at your absolute most adorable when you lie to my face in spite of obvious evidence: "but i DO brush there. i spend extra time brushing there." hmmmm. i guess someone, presumably the KGB or the CIA, planted the decomposing ex-food in between those molars in order to incriminate you. i buy that. really, i do.

but hey, i am learning! next time i go to the doctor i will walk in and in my most authoritative voice tell her that i am suffering from a lateral cordionisis of the left ventricular scapula, a condition exacerbated by the chronic inflammation of my pancreatic uvula. do i drink? never! unless some bastard spikes my daily morning milk, which is the only logical explanation for the questionable state of my liver. oh, and by the way? my last doctor told me not to exercise - apparently it only makes you cranky and does nothing for the flab.

10 October, 2007

ways in which highschool failed me

i spent grade 9 in a cliquey junior high, riddled with cute boys with attitudes, rich girls with daddy's cash, and serious hierarchy issues. then, lucky for my self esteem, not so lucky for my grasp of reality, i went on to highschool.

highschool made me think that most people were intelligent, or if not intelligent, at least interesting.

it made me think that most people think. that most people have ideas of their own and, even if these ideas aren't particularly interesting or revolutionary, at least they are off the beaten path, different drummer etc.

then the real world happened. now you might say it is uncharitable to say that the majority of the human race is stupid, but it happens to be true.

i once worked with a lovely woman who, having (presumably) finished highschool in this country, had no idea who darwin was. she said she might have heard of evolution but wouldn't bet her life savings on it.

i worked with some lovely people who sneered at the mozart being played on ckua and asked, i kid you not, what is this shit? not wagner, mind you. not avro part. mozart. you know, the melodic white zinfandel of wine. the musical mozzarella of italian cheeses. mozart.

i am routinely confronted with (allegedly) english speaking people who say things like "it do" and "i has" and for all intents and purposes are not idiots.

i surround myself with my friends, my family, i attempt to live in denial, to maintain the fiction that highchool implanted in my cerebellum - that i am a thinking person who makes her own way in the universe, who chooses how her money is spent, who decides to buy the more expensive enviromentally friendly lightbulb, who decides to drive a little car, a person whose friends and family for the most part second her choices. and then i make a grave strategic error and enter the workforce, the mall, the frightening world of the media.

highschool made a fool out of me.

pucker up and say "meep!"

looking at vancouver condos today, including this unassuming little unit sent to us by our vancouver pal. the unit apparently comes complete with an attractive woman. i'm okay with that - i assume she'll be the one to polish the quartz floors and the oiled copper toilet seats. she'll also be the one to vacuum the virgin alpaca fur rug under the marble tub, cause i sure as hell won't do that. i'll be too busy trying to find my keys. or, to be more realistic, mister monkey's keys. i kinda always know where my keys are.

anyhoo, back to the original concept of this instrumental album i call my blog: van. condos. etc.
i had a sudden and original and strangely frightening thought: hey! we already have a free place to live, i.e. fort mac, we have places to stay in edmonton (hello, family! are y'all reading this?), and we have really only one or two little loose ends to tie up (ahem...kitchen, bathroom, windows, you know, small stuff) before we could, purely theoretically speaking*, sell the house and move our shit to an actual world class city with an ocean and everything. and then we could alternate our weekends between my beloved but admittedly non-world-class** hometown, and a sexy yogational vegematastic recyclicious heaven called vancouver.

meep.

*ever noticed that the (possible and/or upcoming) realisation of a dream is frightening? i mean what if we hate it? what if living in van sucks? what if we despise the healthy lifestyle? what if we miss the trucks? what if the rain is really as annoying as vancouver ex-pats all say? what if we say screw the kayaks, bring on the motorized modes of transportation? what if we suddenly crave a hummer? or a piece of cow? what then? what will keep our hope alive once our dream has come true and turned out to be a less-than-average wankfest? what if prince charming is wearing a toupee and a polyester non-iron shirt? what if?

**'cause, like, that's sooo important to me. it's gotta be world class, baby, or i ain't showing up. which is why i have so far spent roughly 2.5 years in fort mac: because it is a world class environmental fuck up. because it boasts a population of world class retards. nothing else would do for yours truly.

08 October, 2007

tender is the knight

just arrived back in oil town after a weekend in the city. the weekend was slow except for sunday when i raked and bagged sixteen bags of leaves. this is a spectacular number for someone whose yard is roughly the size of a smallish area rug and has no trees. my back hurts, my ass hurts, my thighs hurt. i keep telling myself they hurt in a good way, but i don't think i'm buying it.

as soon as i got in, i started to clean up after the monkey man, whose idea of emptying the dishwasher is to transfer its entire contents into the dish rack in the sink. also, for an engimeneer, it is disconcerting how few dishes he can actually fit into the dishwasher. as soon as i opened it up and saw it was filled to the brim with roughly two cups, a plate and three spoons, my natural packer instinct kicked in, i swiftly rearranged the contents and now we're good for another week or so. want your dishwasher rearranged more ergonomically? i'm your girl.

i think i deserve a glass of wine. what do you think?

04 October, 2007

squid pro quo

as much as i love my brain sometimes (especially after a particularly wonky dream*) it also annoys the crap out of me. like now. i am planning to go to edmonton for the weekend but tonight the thought of driving all that way for what will most certainly end up being an expenditure driven three days, makes me exhausted. i am sure i will not undertake any of the projects i should undertake, and i am just as certain that i will spend money to drink european chocolat and gnaw brioche at the pomegranate, to drink wine and eat spectacular pizza at cafe leva, and to buy any number of unnecessary items at the farmers' market and/or the shops of whyte avenue. instead, i could stay here, watch movies, read books, watch the couch become permanently fused to my ass, and cook sweet meals for the monkey man.

so what's the problem, you say? i can't make up my damn mind. yes, i'll go. it'll be fun. no, i won't. it'll be exhausting. yes, i'll go. it's cousin's birthday dinner. no, i won't. i'll buy him dinner the following weekend. yes, i'll go. i'll do some unpacking. no, i won't. i don't want to sleep in creepy old house alone. and on and on and on it goes, the fabulous merry-go-round of indicisiveness.

i think i'll have to pull my usual stunt and simply sleep on it and see what brain says tomorrow.

*ok, so i'm in this hilly birch forest, canoeing. it's a slim wooden snow canoe** and it takes every ounce of my concentration to maintain my balance - sort of a lumberjack meets trapese artist. and i know that somewhere else in this forest is nathan fillion, paddling his own skinny wooden canoe and i must find him. except that, oops! look! i left the car in the parking lot, doors wide open, key on the front seat! and the park authorities have left me a ticket! a huge ticket handwritten on posterboard that fills the entire back seat. and this ticket says, in ungainly block letters, that i must promise not to park here again with my doors open, on account of it taking up extra parking spaces and all. and this is just a warning. and then i wake up.

**oh hell, i don't know what a "snow canoe" is either. my brain made it up. apparently it is a long narrow wooden vessel that you paddle while standing upright (not easy!), as it glides through narrow paths between the trees. and nathan fillion has one too. that's all i can say. also: just say no to drugs! say yes to crazy brain instead.

i suppose that drunk on jesus still sorta beats stone cold sober...

how do i love thee?

let me count the ways:

1. on a feather bed protected by a rubber sheet cause there's nothing worse than crusty feathers

2. in a kiddie pool filled with tepid lime jello

3. cautiously, on a giant crystal chandelier suspended above the stage at carnegie hall (how'd we get there? practise, practise, practise! snort.)

4. in a dumpster behind a chocolate factory

5. very awkwardly, in an airplane washroom on a discount airline flight to novosibirsk

6. surreptitiously, at a nymphomaniacs anonymous convention in reno, nevada

7. on a raft in the middle of the indian ocean, sunburned and salty

8. on the moon, in a specially designed space suit

9. in the kitchen, while the soup boils over and forms that annoying crusty ring around the burner

10. in a leaky tent in a rainstorm

11. in front of the television, watching special niche lumberjack porn

03 October, 2007

desperate housewives call for desperate measures

i had a teenage patient today that caused my ovaries to attempt to hang themselves on my fallopian tubes. he was a big fat ugly stupid fuck that sauntered into the room with all the apparent self-assurance of donald trump, his jeans halfway down his ass, his gangsta cap at a jaunty angle on his large, empty and seriously unattractive head. at one point he actually spit out the plaque that i had scraped off his teeth (he doesn't brush all that much - "that's what gum is for"), and despite my shock at having someone spit in my general direction, i have to say i got a big kick out of watching a big wad of tooth gunk land in the vicinity of his eye which i think embarassed him somewhat and took away that tough guy edge that he was aiming for. he also proclaimed that he would not come in any more once he reached the age of...ahem...maturity. to which i reply, "sayonara, sweetheart! don't let the door hit your lumpen ass on the way out!"

the sad thing is i know exactly what kind of man this guy will grow into - misogynistic, stupid, mcdonald's-eating, bad beer-drinking, tossing his bottles out the truck window, marrying the one drunk insecure girl he manages to impregnate in highschool, bringing forth more lumps of antipathetic evolutionary slag, until he keels over from a heart attack at the age of fifty, thereby making the world a marginally better place. in the interim he will insult women, ethnic minorities, people who eat vegetables and drivers of small japanese vehicles, and spew bad breath in the general direction of the world at large. god, how depressing.

semi segue:

the older i get the less interested in kids i get. even if they are not a walking lump of fermented sperm, like this gem, even if they are cute and funny and all that kid-related stuff women go all "AAAAWWWWW" over. and yes, i realise i was gushing over a little girl a few posts back but she was so rare an exception that i should have gone out and bought a lottery ticket right then and there. overall, i am coming to the conclusion that i want neither children nor pets, both being noisy, messy, smelly, high maintenance, and ultimately undependable.

ain't i a cheerful gal? don't you just wanna hang out with moi? oy.

02 October, 2007

who wants ignominy when you can get antimony for THE SAME PRICE?!?!

do you have any idea how difficult it is to come up with titles that have absolutely nothing to do with what i am about to write? well, ok, that aspect of it is easy, what with my absolute and total ignorance of the forthcoming topic and all, but it is still difficult to come up with fun creative titles that will ensure that people who are looking up important stuff on google will find my blog instead!

in other news: stuff! now available in green! yummeh!

it saddens me to report that i have absolutely nothing to report. nothing. zilch. nada. nic. bubkes. zero.

god, dumbass brain!

7 exclamation points: a new low has been reached.