25 August, 2008

down with home appliances!

i just took a post-work blood-removal shower during which i made faces at the showerhead, like the dude was giving me attitude. i snarled. i shook my head. i even suddenly turned around to catch it making faces at me. imagine, a shower head giving me lip like that!

in the end i gave up in disgust at the sheer bloodymindedness of inanimate objects.

i wanted to end this post with the announcement that i am not insane, but then again, how the hell would i know?

narcoleptic octogenarian aunts? sign me up!

i will be old one day. i will be withered. my breasts will sweep the floor ahead of me as i shamble down the street. my hair will be gone. my knees will have been replaced by titanium springs. my eyes will require the aid of quadrifocals just so i can maintain my dignity by not tripping over the aforementioned breasts.

but babies, i will be one colourful old broad.

and not just in the linguistic department.

when i am an old woman, i shall not only wear purple: i shall swathe myself in magenta; i shall don puce; i shall sheathe my aged carcass in aquamarine and chartreuse. you will see me coming, tangerine silk billowing in my wake. my hat will have cherries on it and my underwear will proclaim the day of the week in sequins and embroidery. i will continue to wear my candy apple red new orleans boots. i will have a lemon coloured purse to match.

watch out. my black days are over.

22 August, 2008

garden gnomes are people too

strange existing olympic event:

i must admit to being baffled when i found out that BMX is now an olympic event. long the sport favoured by petty hoodlums and unsocialized teens with bad acne, i suppose i should cheer for their recognition by society. what i suggest is that we take it further.

proposed olympic event:

olympic purse snatching and get away, solo or gang style.

strange existing olympic event:

ok, volleyball i get, but why should there also be beach volleyball? isn't it essentially the same sport played on a different surface?

proposed olympic event:

jello volleyball. possibly mud volleyball. both would play up the sexiness of the sport. both would have to be played in g-strings. extra points given for the thoroughness of the brazilian wax jobs of the competitors.

strange existing olympic event:

trampoline jumping. sure, i realize this takes a great degree of athleticism, but so does negotiating the playground in a speedy and efficient manner.

proposed olympic event:

playground obstacle course, with a possible option of synchronized swinging.

strange existing olympic event:

synchronized diving. i suppose two of anything is twice as nice, as evidenced by the ubiquitous twins fantasy, but by extension we could synchronize any number of sports, including beach volleyball: double teams would be forced to not only win the game but do so by mirroring their co-team. it would be beautiful to behold.

proposed olympic event:

ok, that was a bit of silliness with the synchronized volleyball, but seriously now, how about synchronized golf? i'd say that would add interest and a balletic beauty to the otherwise mind-numbingly dull competition. extra points for double hole-in-ones.

side note:

this is the last year that women's softball will grace the olympic stage. a sport owned by the americans since its inclusion in the olympics, it warmed the cockles of my heart to see the japanese beat the crap out of them in the last olympic softball game ever. sort of like the automotive industry...

21 August, 2008

that tickles!

i must admit that despite all my protestations to the contrary, i have been sucked into the vortex of international playground bullying that is the olympics. aaahh....the sweet sweet smell of testosterone...

i admit i shed a tear when the terribly cute but terribly short eric lamaze stood on the whatchamacallit to receive his medal. the hard work, the glory, the gold...such stuff are tv movies made of. generally i pretend to throw up a little in my mouth when it comes to emotional twinkies of that variety, but really, that is simply the cynical veneer i re-apply meticulously upon my wafer-thin skin, because the truth is? i used to cry at those goddamn phone commercials in the 90's. you know the ones where the gruff-but-loving father gives his free-spirited-but-still-needing-the-reassurance-of-fatherly-love daughter a phone but doesn't tell her and then the phone rings and she searches through her luggage and there is daddy-o on the line, telling her to always use a condom or whatnot, except i really don't know what the hell he says because by now i am bawling like a five year old.

i hate that about myself. that annoying propensity to be moved to tears by the most obvious emotional twiddling by international telecommunications companies. bastards.

and don't even get me started on the bombardier "everyone loves 'o canada' " spot because i fucking hate slurping back my own snot as i scrape crap off someone's teeth, because i love this country, i truly do, but could we please not pretend that our national anthem is anything other than the musical equivalent of a visit to an octogenarian narcoleptic aunt? and still i cry.

oh yes, the olympics. cool stuff. especially the 4'2" 20lb chinese diving girls. how is it that those wee things do not float? surely there is lead stuffed into the waistbands of their ridiculously diminutive swimming suits.

still...eric lamaze...so short and yet so very cute. i won't even mention the swimmers, what with their perfectly sculpted abs of kryptonite, their perfectly hemispherical buttocks, their wide perfectly muscled shoulders, their...oh hell, it's all about the sportsmanship, no?

19 August, 2008

take that

i am terribly annoyed by sneezing. i wish people generally wouldn't, and if they must, that they limit it to one or two events. i am personally insulted by multiple sneezers and whenever mister monkey begins a volley i archly ask him to please stop that. right now.

he doesn't.

instead, he often instinctively turns to me whenever he feels the sudden need to projectile-eject nasal fluids. as sweet as that is, i really wish he didn't.

my life is difficult and painful. i think i might need help.

18 August, 2008

geography for dummies

mr. monkey (telling friends about the loveliness of the quebec countryside): it's a lot like austria.

moi: dude! you've never been to austria! i lived there for over a year. it looks nothing like austria!

mr. m: it is, however, what i'd imagine austria looks like if i had to imagine what austria looked like.

moi: and dude? you'd be so wrong!!!

mr.m: i don't care.

apparently there is one man on the face of this planet who has never watched "the sound of music." i married that man.

13 August, 2008

the many adventures of brain

last night i had a baffling dream: i was sleeping over at a house owned by ashlee simpson and whatever-her-husband's-name-is. why would brain do this to me? why sleep on the couch of people who mean so very little to me? if i had my druthers (what exactly ARE druthers? why would i want them? what effect do they have on my life's choices?) i would certainly not waste them (the druthers, see?) on spending time at ashlee simpson's house.

i might go hang out with michael jackson, for the sheer unadulterated weirdness of it all.

or at alan rickman's, for the yumminess.

or even celine dion's, just to see the many disturbing ways in which she, a french canadian chanteuse, is managing to channel liberace, a polish-italian gay pianist.

there are so many options for hanging out with the stars. but no. brain, in its infinite ability to baffle me completely, has chosen to give me a night on ashlee simpson's couch. thanks a lot, brain.

things managed to improve, however, when it turned out that it was halloween and i had no costume so i drew tattoos all over my arms, put on false eyelashes and went as a tough drag queen. good brain, nice brain.

political interlude

can i be serious for a moment?

the harper government has just cut two arts-funding programs.

any homicidal maniacs out there looking for heads of state to assassinate? may i make a suggestion?

his name is stephen harper. he has the small cold hard heart of a tyrannical despot. he believes in democracy only in so far as it can place him in a position of power. his hair reveals his soul: plastic, immobile, unnervingly impossibly perfect, just plain wrong.

he has taken canada, a country of gorgeous liberal values, and is slowly remaking it in his image. behind-the-scenes shenanigans, backroom deals, silent shifts: slowly we are having all that is precious taken away from us and, being children of democracy and freedom, we simply do not believe that anything truly bad could ever happen in this, the best of all possible systems, and so we sit silently by, perhaps cursing a little under our collective breath, when we should be out in the streets, burning effigies, screaming our heads off, demanding that the opposition stop taking it silently up the ass and stand up for us, that the minority government stop acting like an african dictatorship and listen to the people, that we get our country back.

so say we all.