What the Hell?

 Wait…June 15, 2009? That date was the last time I daggerfished this blog. Like, 16 years has passed. How?!? How did this happen? Have I really spent the last decade and a half being tooooo busyyyy to blog?? It’s not like I’m a rich, daring adventurer with money to spend physically sailing ships into Bombay or taking helicopters up mountains to ski avalanches. I’m not stranded on a deserted island, though there are days I wouldn’t mind. Just some days, hours even. Mostly I just lounge around the house trying to avoid socializing in person. The Internet is a Godsend (Dogsend) for people like me because we never need to brush our hair or put on pants in order to make a nuisance of ourselves online. Which makes it even more puzzling. I literally have the Internet at my fingertips but couldn’t daggerfish blog. Wth.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s my ADHD, but honestly, hell if I know. I see the link to this blog every day on my FB page, but it clearly hasn’t entered my mind to post on it. To be fair, I do have the one track mind of a working sight hound in that everything else blurs around me except for my prey…err, I mean my daily goals. As the years have passed, those goals have become much simpler and easier to manage. Until bam, I wake up one beautiful spring day and What The Hell have I been doing for 16 years that I can’t even wedge an occasional word into an Internet blog? 

It’s not quite as bad as waking up from a coma, but still mind boggling. Sixteen years. My body has become all soggy and plouffy, and my brain is wilting and tilted slightly to the left, my nose can’t smell anything and my eyes are no longer the beautiful, glowing, deep green orbs of a top tier carnivore racing across fields of gold beneath a promising sky. Nay. I stubbed my toe getting up this morning and can barely digest meat without guzzling Pepto Bismol. Ugh. 

Obviously a lot of time has passed and a fucktillion things have happened since 2009. But instead of cramming 16 years into a paragraph or two, I’ll just mention any relevant points as I continue onwards. But this beautiful midmorning it’s just going to be all about getting a snack and then taking a nap 🤣 Perhaps my newly found brain will allow some deep, critical thinking and planification. Or muffins. 

Either, or.

Workin It, III

Been two months, (longer?) and I must say, it's been interesting. I'm beginning to understand why buff people seem so dumb...I think the body automatically shuts down sections of the brain in order for the muscles to get enough oxygen. I feel great and I look hot, but damn am I brain-dead. Seriously, all the calories must be going to my body, cuz I don't know dick. Ask me anything, ask me who Dick is, I cannot think up even a halfway intelligent answer, mostly I just kinda nod and try to look knowing. Fail. On the bright side, I'm getting back into shape, hell, I can crack walnuts with my bare thighs. Too bad I don't know what walnuts are. Maybe next month my brain will start up again. All this dumb-blondeness fun is wearing a tad thin.g. Speeling skills will prolly be the next thing to go. Sense of humor has departed. It's not funny!! >:-/

PS my boobs constantly hurt from being crushed and mangled and forced into tight sports bras. No wonder our female gym teachers were always so damn cranky. They had to wear the damn things 40 hours a week.

Workin It, II

still on second dvd. barely...enough...enrgy totype this plz send in teh Army i cant feel my arms anymore. bring gatorade.

fire bad, tree pretty.

my entire body hurts.

PS I look HOT :)

Workin It.

Ya know, there really is no way to impart the marvelousness of the humble endorphin. Endorphins are endogenous opioid polypeptide compounds. That's right. I wiki'd it. The key word here being opioid. As in "opiate", as in narcotic. As in heroin and morphine. I now realize that when my body was telling me it felt bad, it was actually telling me that it was going through withdrawals, that it is addicted to opiates and craves larger and larger doses. I shudder to think about how I will tell my family and friends that I'm a junkie. That I crave the feeling, the power, the lure of the drug. I will gladly sell my grandmother for an hour on the treadmill. That's right. You heard me. GLADLY. And her little dog, too. Fugly yapping thing is useless anyways. The dog, that is.

Anyways, I've totally revamped my entire workout strategy, and have reverted to the 80's aerobics workouts, complete with headband and spandex. The guy that invented Spandex should be knighted. Anyways, how this bit of unbelievableness occurred is this: I was thinking about how to upgrade my sweating, grunting, boringass workouts and improve them, when lo and behold, I saw a bunch of aerobic tapes whilst perusing Amazon.ca for something to read. While sitting on my procrastinating ass, yes. I was intrigued enough to read the reviews, and decided that really, who doesn't want to look like an aerobics instructor?? So I ordered the 4 DVD set, little understanding what I was getting into. Dear God.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I can run forever. I can lift weights for an hour and a half. I do yoga regularly, and have great flexibility. But to do them all at the same time? What kind of sadist thinks this stuff up? This (witch) instructor just about killed me. I sailed (ok, maybe sailed is a bit optimistic) through the first DVD, but only made it halfway through the second, where, panting and trembling, I had to stop or explode. And so I sat there, shaking and drooling, numbly questioning the meaning of Life. Is it to die, panting and wheezing, like a dehydrated dog on the side of a Death Valley road? Or is the meaning of Life to persist, to scrabble hand over scraped, raw hand, ever higher up the sheer cliff of insanity, just to risk plummeting to one's CO2 saturated death at the foot of a pile of inanimate rubble? WELL?

Well. I persisted. I am still only on the second DVD, but I can do the entire thing now, albeit with a few breaks along the way. Easy. Sure. The third DVD leers at me from the shelf, taunting me. Grinning malevolently. Holy Great Mother Of All That Is Good, please let me live another day.

PS I look HOT.

:)

Wow.

Just...wow. I can't believe I've let 4 monthes get past without blogging something. Granted, TV takes up a great deal of my winter time. Obviously, wayy too much of it. I'm sitting here trying to list my reasons for not posting on my blog, (mostly by way of being too busy doing other things), when I chanced to ponder...what things? Like, seriously. What takes up so much of my valuable time??

Sure, I've been spending more time at the gym. Okay. And it takes longer to drive to and from work in winter. Fine. And of course, my hobbies. I've been paying more attention to them lately. I created a Facebook page a few weeks ago and it has taken some time to become accustomed to. Okay. But what else?? And it hit me like a freight train...holy boobtube, Batman. The evil television set has literally sucked half a winter out of me!! Wow. Like, wow.

The scary part is that since I've missed a couple of episodes of my favorite shows, I was sitting here online just about to watch one. I was actually about to spend even more time watching TV...on my computer. Oh, the immense sadness this brings me. I think I've reached rock bottom of the addiction pit.

My sister facebooked me a message asking what about my blog, and I felt guilty enough to log on and sit here looking at the last intallment in shock. Wow. Sure, I've thought about blogging, pretty frequently, in fact. But I keep having other things to do, and I just put it off and put it off and now...wow.

Television has really taken over my life. I need to do something. I need my life back!! What do I do? whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdo...hmm. I know! Turn the damn thing off!! How simple is that?

American Idol. House. Gossip Girl. Lie To Me. CSI. Two Men. Friends. Dexter. etc etc etc...JUST SAY NO!!!

NO NO NO NO NO!! I want my life back, damn you all!

Okay, let's not get all bunched up in my own knotty panties. Let's go about this the proper way, with self control and organization. Obviously, I cannot just go all cold turkey. This is a serious addiction and needs to be dealt with thusly. Baby steps, one day at a time.

Firstly, choose 3 (THREE ONLY!!) favorite TV shows. Just three, do not cheat, you evil conniving witch. Write them down...write them down now, fool. Okay, so, American Idol. House. Dexter.

Now comes the simple part...you can download Dexter and House, or buy the season on DVD. That just leaves American Idol, and it's only on once a week. Piece of cake. The rest of the time, the TV will be OFF.

There will be serious consequences if you fail in your mission. I mean it!

Fear Cripples.

Well. During my ever relentless search for Good Health and Longevity (which supposedly go hand in hand) I have come to the conclusion that I might need to crack the whip a bit. I admit, I've been a bit lax in the goodnhealthy nutrition and exercise department. Been overindulging in the chocobrowniecakecookiereesespieces and mcdonaldstimhortonswendysbacondoublecheeseburgers a tad and, let's face it, I've seriously plateau'd in the exercise department. I feel it. My body, if I listen closely, is getting a bit perturbed. It's saying "hey, fool, I'm cranky, feel this?!?" Yes, yes I do. I feel icky. I feel I need more challenging training routine, and less self-gratification in the kitchen. More in the bedroom, but that's really another post for another day :P

Hence, my new inspirational mantra: Just Do It, Dumbass. Yoga, swimming, weight training. Less junk food, more chewy goodness. More carroty, lettucy, fruity goodness. More ginger tea. Less salty, sugary, empty carby badness. Less coffee. Ouch. Nevermind, keep the coffee. Just workout more, upgrade the work. Make it hard again. No reference to bedrooms, really.


I should prolly draw up a chart or something. Or maybe not...this is gonna hurt, and I prolly don't want to keep track of my downward spiral into Hell and paination.


Stay tuned for updates on my agonizing return to peak physical condition.

I suck.

Thanks for not Giving me a headache Day.

I've never really understood the history of the Canadian Thanksgiving. It's actually pretty complicated compared to the American deal. But the polite Canadian in me has always deemed it a good idea to be thankful in general, so, what the hell. I can be thankful. Especially since it involves eating really good food, and plentiful amounts of it. So, once a year, I am thankful that I get to stuff my face with really good crap, clog my arteries, bind up my heart valves, and add a good solid ten pounds to my pink-cheeked chilly autumn ass.

For most of my adult life I have been really into the whole theme of it all. I've decorated the table with the pretty squash and dried leaves and shafts of wheat, made a Cornucopia, cooked all the food, baked everything from scratch, cleaned, decorated, cooked, baked, cleaned...after a few days of preparation I was always so exhausted I was just thankful for the energy to to crawl to the table and shovel it all in. Usually took me weeks to recuperate.

I've decided it's time to become wiser, since older is inevitable. Wiser means realizing that the way I've always done things might not have been the most efficient way to go about it all. Wiser means learning from past foolishness, and improving upon my methods. Wiser means delegating responsibility.

So. This year I intend to significantly lighten my work load. Con someone else (my hubby, the Beast) into cooking the turkey. Con yet another (my brother-in-law) into baking all the pies, and con a few others (my children) into tidying the house.

For my part, I will to my very best to show up looking rested, content, and very, very thankful.

Go team... >:]

Weekend Update.

Yay, our new heating system was installed on Monday. I like it. I like it a LOT. I especially like the ability to crank the temp to hellish heights in the bathroom when it's showertime. Toast-ay! And with the new-and-improved plumbing, now there will be no more shivering naked in the too-big bathtub under the 9 foot ceiling in the cold, cold bathroom while the dripdripdrip of water from the prehistoric plumbing system dampens your left foot..nay. No more!!
Now there is water pressure, and heat, and toastiness! No more waiting til spring for a bath while you slowly but surely turn into CroMagnon man (woman) huddled in an icy cave with the skins of dead animals bundled around you and the stink and stench of your own armpits making you want to crawl outside and commit harikiri (ok, seppuku, for you purists) with a three foot icicle.
Finally! We are civilized! It feels so good :P AND I can use my LUSH products right through the winter!

Now to painting. I've begun the front bedroom window. Took one day to scrape, sand and prepare it, and another to paint it. Just fancy enough to keep the wood safe for the winter. Next summer I plan to completely strip, refinish and restore the original wood. That's gonna be some fun, huh Bambi. I hope the weather holds, because I hope to get the livingroom window done next week, same thing, but it might take a bit longer, it has suffered much more weather damage due to its northern exposure. More scraping, sanding, and swearing to come.

*rubbing hands together gleefully* Things are proceeding exactly as planned. Muhaha.

Well. Except for the annoying early morning Heebies I get at three frikkin am, when I wake up in the pitch darkness filled with anxiety, wondering what Incredibly Important Thing I'm forgetting that's gonna show up and bite me on the ass with its dirty yellow fangs. This happens, apparently, as people get older...I can only imagine the Heebies I'm gonna suffer by the time I'm 60, geez. I am sure the upgrade kit for Heebies comes complete with only the best and most advanced, mind-alteringly fearsome Heebie characters ever created in this dimension.

For some reason, the Giant Purple Snorklewacker just popped into my mind. So I went and did a quick Google to find a pic to stash here, but lo and behold...none (okay, one really bad copy, barely legible and not even worth a rightclick). No snorklewackers exist on the Net, unless you are willing to pay for the book, that is. Which, by the way, I already own. In fact, I am the proud possessor of just about every Bloom County comic book compendium ever published. Not that they're doing me any good downstairs in a dusty box. Aren't exactly helping me out online, are they.

Now, I'm down with the whole protected copyright thing, but really. Has the Snorklewacker been dragged out of Binkley's anxiety closet and forced to work as a thug for the Opus and Co. mob? Seriously. I think it's a mighty big bit of suspicious that no illicit websites exist with the Snorklewacker in his full, copyright infringe-ed glory. What is the Internet world coming to when writers and artists can protect their work and keep the likes of me from thievery? Is it not my Dog given right as a First World citizen to break Internet laws? I feel so affronted! Why I might just have to sit myself down in the nearest dandelion patch and have myself a good, old brokenhearted cry.

I miss Bloom County. I might as well haul my collection out of cobwebs and go read 'em in the dandelion patch. The rest of you are just gonna have to imaginate the Snorklewacker lurking behind me with a club and a big shit-eating grin.

Blah blah blah.

Seriously. Nothing has changed. Well. Maybe a few lil things. Got more work done in yonder basement, new windows were installed yesterday. Nice! Got some wicked storage racks in place (heavy duty Gorilla racks, fresh outta Costco) and my prized possessions are now nicely stacked, racked, and organized. Beauty. T'is a sight to behold.

Also, more housework dang went and got all accomplished, windows washed, draperies cleaned for winter. Haven't conquered any closets yet, though. Geeze, people, gimme a break here. New heating system to be installed next week. Thankfully it's still warm outside.

Another car show next week, and an art show I'm gonna miss this weekend cuz I gotta work *grumble* and...AND...a Botheration that I cannot even rant about cuz this is relatively public place and really, people, some things simply must remain private. So just back off, back off I say, stop harassin' me already. Stop that! Iz mah bidness! Leemeealoooooan. Grr. Grrr!

Anyways. I bought a new reef tank, so I can upgrade my current reef tank and have fun setting it up. It's double the size, which will give me more flexibility. Next week, hopefully. Funfun! Well, if you can call wet, slippery floors, dripping t-shirt, salty palms...throw in some sand, a margarita and a cabana boy and I'm all set :P

Speaking of wet, I did my usual gazillion laps in the pool this morning. I love swimming. Problem is I tend to hit the zone and forget to breathe above the surface...maybe the chlorine in my lungs will wipe out any festering viral germs incubating in my lung tissue so I don't suffer a recurrence of last springs nastyass, sinus-rupturing cold..ack. *shudder*

Speaking of hitting the zone, last Saurday night I went to my high school reunion. Had an absolute blast, of course, because the people I went to school with are a bunch of crazy wicked wingnuts. Pics will most likely follow, as soon as someone sends me some :P I promise to only show the pics where folks still got their clothes on and were doing mostly legal stuff.. Plus, I scored a birthday cake! It was way totally cool. Thanks, guys! :)

Speaking of my birthday, I also scored a new screen for my computer, a new sound system, a wailin' new hands-free headset for my cell phone, a really lovely bracelet, some unmentionables, some edibles, more things unmentionable, and some stuff you really don't want to be bored hearing about.

Til we meet again.

Time Flies. Better Than Horse Flies.

Wow, it's been weeks since I last scribbled, err, typed something inane in this little post-it box, eh? My last post was about Lush, and I just got home from yet another visit there. Well, at least I'm predictable :P

I went to the annual tattoo convention last weekend. Always a trip, the artists seem to get better every year. And I am always looking for artistic inspiration. For some reason, inspiration is hard to come by for me these days. *head scritch* Perhaps because I have so many things going on at once which I can barely concentrate on. Which proves to me yet again how our lives are far too, TOO frikkin complicated.

October 4th is the Classic Car Show. Nirvana. One can always find artistic inspiration in the clean, crisp lines of a classic, collectible thoroughbred automobile. Which, by the way, I haven't even posted pics of from the last car show I went to see in St. Catherine's at the end of August. I have been so remiss. Here. A pic or two. Three :P







If you want to see more, you can whine at me by leaving me a message at the bottom of this post. Or I can just add a few more. Just circumvent the whole whinyass message when it's late and I'm irritated and don't feel like reducing, thing :P





Sayonara.

Cleansed Of All My Sins.

Well, maybe not quite :) But my body is cleaner than ever, and boy, do I stink pretty...

A month ago I won a contest being given by a store in one of the hundreds of shopping centers orbiting my house. Great store, actually, called Lush. The first time I walked in, the onslaught of scentsation just about knocked me over. And the colors...riotous, bright, retina-scalding color that makes your head swivel and bounce like a bobblehead doll. Color everywhere. I was immediately in love with the store, and am now completely addicted to their products. Just the thought of going on a Lush shopping spree makes me vibrate like a lead guitarist on speed.

And it's practically criminal the way they market their wares. Color, scent, pushing the all-organic, natural, green, hand-made beauty products in a myriad of colors and shapes and viscosities...plus everything you could want or need under one roof.

Anyways, the contest consisted of a model city built entirely out of soap, and the person who could guess the weight of the entire thing would win it all. Having already spent a goodly portion of my disposable income in this store, I accurately gauged how much it weighed just by multiplying the weight of the smaller bars and doing the math. I also managed to figure out the value of that much soap, and was pretty damn happy when I won it all :) :) :)






One of the buildings in the city was made of a large piece of black soap. I think it's called Coalface, but I'm not sure. Anyways, when lathered, it becomes a nice seaweed green. I handed a stick of it to my hubby in the shower and laughed my ass off when he turned green and starting calling himself the Incredible Hulk :P

Anyone interested in natural soaps with smelly-fresh sniffyness, click on this logo and find a store near you. Or order online.




Just my way to say Thank You, Lush, for making me stink pretty. :)

Fine, Thanks, And You?

I don't really relish another month or two passing before I make another Dear Diary entry, so here goes. On my mind at the moment:


Summer is coming to an end. I feel a tad cheated this year, no shimmering, sweltering, blast-oven style heat to make us suffer and dehydrate in mind-altering misery. What's the point of having air conditioning? But the trade off was this: storms. Lightning, thunder, ground shaking powerstorms. Great tunderin Jaysus. Lovely, fierce, guttercleansing storms. The smell, the electric air, the shiny streets, abundant greenery... easy on the humidity, enough wind to keep the smog at bay. Well. Anyways, been a wonderful summer. Which makes heading into winter just that much tougher. Oh, well. I'm Canadian. I can handle it. "Winter" just means it takes a little longer to get to my car in the morning :)


My basement floor is finished. All the cementing and sealing. The new windows will be installed in September. The new furnace also. A few more electrical and plumbing details to be touched up. All that remains is to buy some serious storage units, and start decorating my new art room. And my new laundry room. This, of course, will trigger and entire house re-vamp, including closets, kitchen cupboards, and upstairs storage space, leading to serious fall cleaning, painting, woodwork, and furniture refinishing. I don't do half measures. Of course not.



My birthday is coming up in a few weeks. This is not so much a celebration of my birth, as a celebration of my continued existance despite the odds. :)
I have spent previous years expecting my loved ones to be able to read my mind, carefully ask seemingly innocuous questions, and gauge my wishes accordingly, in order to buy me the perfect gift each year. This tactic has failed me 100%, to the point where it would be sheer stupidity for me to continue thusly. This year, I plan to demand a surprise party. And it better be good!



more animals

Happy Birthday to me. I guess I better haul ass to the store and buy myself a gift, so I can surprise myself :)

August 9, 2008

Please forgive me, it has been two monthes since my last confes..I mean, my last posting.

Summer is a busy, fun time, and since life is short, I've decided to spend my summertime doing stuff what needs doing instead of potatoing away in front of a computer screen. Fun things, but unfortunately, work things, too. Yin, yang... :/

A work update on my doings and goings and hitherings and yonnings: mostly consisting of me slaving like a dog trying to organize all the crazy crap I've collected over the years. Because we've finally gotten around to getting the foundation fixed on our old citadel of a house. Meaning the entire basement needed to be emptied of its contents. Just the sheer volume of crap we've collected over the years would have been enough to incur fear and doubt in even the most serious DoGooder from any of those televised home cleanup crews and freeze him in his tracks. Or her. Fear knows no sexism :)

The basement of this fortress was built to be virtually indestructible. That is, to everything the builders could think of: war, locusts, plague, insanity, famine, earthquake, giant sand worms from Dune, bloodrayne, zombies, and termites. What the builders didn't bank on was that most deceptive of destroyers....groundwater. It has infiltrated its evil way into the cracks and crevices and over time has frozen, thawed, negotiated and insinuated its liquified self into the very soul of our home, melting its way placidly through solid cement. It took years, this patient, pervasive invasion of our space. This stealthy pillagement, this wily violation of our dear home. Maybe not so stealthy, we figured it out years ago. But the time has come to reclaim our castle, take back our territory, and tame the trespassing torrents.

What all that means, is that I've spent the last couple of monthes sorting and packing boxes of crap and moving it all into storage. Years of stuff, some good, some not so much, some useful, some not so much...and either tossing it or hauling it all away and paying upwards of 200 bucks a month to keep it under lock and key and camera surveillance (prolly under the watchful eye of some wanker with a porn addiction and too much free time at work). What remained was a large, empty, slightly damp, sorrowful-looking basement with a badly cracked floor and an aspiration to greater things. And a month without my washer and dryer, a month!! The sheer torment of having to wear the same clothes for days at a time. And they say the pioneers had it bad. Try giving a woman a thousand dollar machine to clean things with and then taking it away from her...folly, says I. Sheer folly. Lucky for them I didn't climb a bell tower with a sniper rifle.

Then the men came with big strong tools (hehe) and jackhammered their way (heee) through our poor, violated floor and removed all the old cement, right down to solid Canadian Shield bedrock. Then they dumped in a gabillion pounds of gravel, re-laid new plumbing and drains, some plastic sheeting, some metal grids, and finally a nice smooth four inch topcoat of lovely grey cement. Spankin!!

Now, we await the resurfacing of the basement walls, the installation of new windows, a new heating system, and then on to my favorite part: redecorating our new space. The washer and dryer have been re-installed in the soon-to-be new laundry room, and the rest of it is blessedly empty. We will probably start hauling stuff back in early September, depending on how fast the rest of the work progresses.

Fun update: In between stuffing boxes and housework, I spent my time wisely. Roller coasters, water slides, shopping, car shows, and movies.

Busy busy busy, a girls gotta bee :)

Yes, I Am A Sick Individual. Snotty to boot.

Who gets sick in the spring? Seriously. A full strength, force ten gale head cold, fully equipped with excruciating sinus headache, swollen glands, bucketloads of phlegm, drippy, red, irritated nose. Put me flat on my back, heavily medicated and wishing for sweet release. No sex involved there, either, more's the pity. Hard to feel sexy with a double lungful of virulent germs and a fifty gallon drum beside my bed for all the snotty, soggy Kleenexs. Ewww. Not to mention the accompanying attitude of "touch me and you die" that seems to come free of charge with all of my head colds/flu's.

Lovely.

And what kind of messed up God is up there, anyways.. Religion is all well and good, but one has to wonder at the cruelty of a celestial being that allows such painful thing. Just downright uncaring. And I've completely missed out on spring. One minute it's cold and windy and I'm hauling myself around all wrapped up in polar fleece, and the next thing I know, three weeks have slipped by and it's 95F and I don't have a thing to wear. Not. A. THING. Except for this raggedy-ass tee shirt that I dug out of the back of my closet, full of holes and practically see-through, that no self-respecting hooker would even wear on a slow night with no prospects in sight.

This is the crux of my problem, really. I've completely missed out on the spring shopping season. On the wonder and enchantment of seeing all the new spiffy spring shades, the fads, the fashions, the flowing, flowery, summery fabrics. And the joy of that first pair of sandals spotted in my fav shoe store...the wonder of it all! All gone. I missed it. Now the stores are full of autumn colors. Autumn shoes. Autumn sweaters...is that...polar fleece I see??? And even if I could find spring clothing, I have nothing to wear to go shopping. Do you see the sick irony here? Dear God, how can you do this to me? What have I ever done?

And what moronic retard fashion expert decided that spring clothing should be sold in mid-winter, and autumn crap sold in spring? Why must women be forced to buy seasonal clothing an entire season and a half beforehand?? What kind of sick, twisted society thinks this is acceptable??? Really.

The horror. The HORROR.

My head is spinning. Spinning, I tell you, from the sheer horror of it all. Or maybe that's just the cold meds wearing off. Hard to tell, really. All I know is, it's hot, muggy, and I'm sitting here typing in the buff because I have Nothing To Wear.

Maybe things will improve and it will rain soon, and I can throw on last years raincoat and go shopping. Obviously, the umbrella ain't gonna cut it. Just hope the cold meds don't cause me to run around flashing all the old men hanging around the mall. Haha. Ha!


*sigh*

More horsepower. One Can Never Have Enough, Really.

Whilst perusing the dailies this lovely morning, I happened across this enthralling article in CAA magazine. Being me, I simply had to add it to my blog, since it directly relates to the things I love and cherish...speed, pretty colors, and leather :P

Article:

Too Fast, Too Luxurious.

The fastest street-legal cars in the world.

By Steve English

Humans have been feeling the need for speed pretty much since we first started walking up-right. From the first domesticated horses 6,000 years ago to the latest precision-tuned super-cars, our civilization’s progress has been measured in horsepower and kilometres-per-hour. The 10 cars listed here represent the pinnacle of personal mobility currently allowed by law and physics. Buckle up, hold on and brace yourself for the g-forces!

All cars are ranked based on posted quarter-mile (0.4km) acceleration times, and only street-legal, full-production models were considered (no customs, no concept cars, no racers).

10. 2002 Lamborghini Murciélago, 11.72 seconds
Named after a legendary fighting bull so renowned for its fighting spirit that it was spared its life, the Murciélago is a powerful beast with slick, movie-star-worthy lines. It really lives up to its namesake, too; incredibly fast, powerful and difficult to tame, the car’s disagreeable handling makes it a tough drive for all but the most experienced super-car enthusiasts. Given its wild styling and (ahem) modest $300,000 US price tag, taming it almost seems worth it.

9. 2005 Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, 11.6 seconds
Boasting both a powerful supercharged V8 (top speed approaching 333 km/h) and lav-ishly appointed leather-covered cockpit, the Mercedes SLR McLaren is a muscle car with a country-club pedigree. Hand-built at the McLaren plant in Woking, England, the SLR’s lightweight construction—a carbon-fibre body bolted to a largely aluminum chas-sis—complements its robust 617-horsepower pulling capacity. But make no mistake, this car isn’t for the common rabble: the SLR’s $441,000 US sticker price and two-month waiting period keep it almost exclusively in the preserve of high-rollers.

8. 2007 Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano, 11.3 seconds
Introduced as a replacement for the 575M Maranello, the 599 GTB Fiorano seamlessly com-bines the elegance of a luxury car with the heart-pounding speed and performance of a super-car. All that torque can be tough to handle, but the Fiorano’s semi-active, aluminum double-wishbone suspension gives it pretty decent handling and a surprisingly smooth ride. But off-the-mark acceleration is where its true colours come out. Hitting 100 km/h in a breathtakingly Ferrariesque 3.7 seconds, you don’t just pull out in this baby, you take off.

7. 2005 Ford GT, 11.2 seconds
Inspired by the classic Ford GT40 that dusted everyone in the 1966 Le Mans 24-hour race, the Ford GT is the rarest of rare breeds: an American-made super-car with an almost reasonable price tag ($150,000 US). A handpicked team of Ford engineers designed the new-look GT to directly rival the Ferrari 360 Modena, a feat they accomplished in style. Made of lightweight aluminum—including frame, suspension and body panels—and sporting a set of fat, road-grabbing Goodyear F1 Eagles tires, this sleek 550 hp behemoth is surprisingly easy to drive. Its slick profile practically begs for a pair of racing stripes.

6. 2004 Porsche Carrera GT, 11.1 seconds
The most powerful production-model car Porsche has ever made, the Carrera GT puts even the awesome 911 GT2 to shame. The ultra-light and ultra-rigid carbon fibre body keeps the Carerra GT’s weight down and its acceleration up, but you really have to be out on the open highway to feel the full force of its 5.7L V10 engine. Once it gets going, the car flat-out flies, capable of hitting a top speed in the neighbourhood of 320 km/h and can come to an impossibly quick stop courtesy of its massive 15-inch ceramic composite brakes.

5. 2002 Mosler MT900 Photon, 11.02 seconds
Produced by the little-known Mosler Automotive company in Riviera Beach, Fla., the MT900 Photon takes Mosler’s already deliriously fast MT900S and somehow makes it even faster. Ba-sically a race car with a few street-legal tweaks, the Photon sacrifices creature comforts for awe-inspiring performance and more speed than most mere mortals can handle. The engine roar drowns out the radio and the seats are hard and uncomfortable, but judging by how it eats up the road, you probably won’t be sitting in them long enough to notice.

4. 2003 Ferrari Enzo, 11 seconds
An automaker with Ferrari’s lineage isn’t going to put its founder’s name on just any old street rocket. Produced in a limited edition of only 399 and designed with input from legendary F1 champion Michael Schumacher, the Enzo is, by all accounts, the company’s zenith. Fingertip steering, responsive suspension and precision engineering throughout make it an absolute breeze to drive. But once you let its 6.0L V12 loose, it turns into a snarling beast. One draw-back: the Enzo requires a special (read: expensive) type of motor oil. Average oil change cost: $732 US. Ouch!

3. 2006 Chevrolet Corvette Z06, 10.85 seconds
The Z06 is the super-car equivalent of a welterweight boxer. Generating an impressive 505 horses from its 427ci engine, it packs the mighty wallop of good, old-fashioned Detroit muscle onto a small, light and blindingly fast sporty frame. Lightweight components, including a magnesium engine cradle and an all-aluminum chassis keep the Z06’s curb weight under 1430 kg and help make it the fastest production Corvette ever assembled. All this and a fully appointed interior, too!

2. 2007 Saleen S7 Twin Turbo, 10.6 seconds
It looks European, but the Saleen S7 is 1,247 kg of all-American muscle. Considered the first U,S.-made super-car, the S7 sports a relatively small power plant that packs a mighty big punch, churning out a claimed 750 horsepower and capable of reaching speeds as high as 354 km/h. All that power does come at a price, though. The engine is quite noisy when running in low gear, the shifting is rough and choppy, and the cockpit is a tight squeeze for tall drivers. On the plus side, a one-night stay at the Ritz-Carlton at Dana Point—near the manufacturing plant—is built into the sticker price so engineers can custom-fit the pedals and seat to your exact specifications.

1. 2007 Bugatti Veyron 16.4, 10.2 seconds
With its ultra-limited production run—Bugatti plans to build only 50 of them a year—and a sticker price in the neighbourhood of a $1,250,000 US, the Veyron is destined to be the must-have plaything for the speed-obsessed elite. Cramming 1,001 metric horses onto a street-legal frame, the Veyron is an engineering feat and a half; even its tires had to be specially designed so they wouldn’t disintegrate at top speed. And while you’ll no doubt never get the chance to drive one of these low-slung luxury dragsters, the mere fact that they exist is awe-inspiring enough.

Personally, if I had the option, I'd go for the McClaren. The Corvette, while being GM and therefore right up my alley, still carries the taint of "desperate old guy" car, and while that may sound trite, I cannot help the way I feel. And if I'm spending that kind of cash, I think my feelings require some consideration :P

Also no to the Ford. Sorry, Ford, aside from the AC Bristol Cobra, you have never really impressed me. And this is, after all, all about me. Heh.

Lamborghini, too ostentatious, ditto for the Bugatti. Ferrari, Porsche, ditto. Too much the "hey look at me, I got money so I bought a fast car" mentality for me. Half the owners out there cannot even drive these cars they way they were intended. Losers. You know what I mean.

Yes, I think the Mercedes SLR McClaren suits me admirably well. Classy, lavish, beautiful, tricky to navigate, and fast as hell given the proper circumstances. Yes, in fact, it suits me to a T.

:P

Thank you, all donations happily accepted >:]

Home On The Range.

Okay. Here are some pics of my vacation. Yes, I did fly, and I arrived safely. No thanks to the stanky guy sitting beside me on the flight, try standing a little closer to the soap, pal.

Anywhoo.

So, it's branding time in Alberta.

I took pics.

Here they are. I suppose some commentary will be required, so.

In the spring, ranchers brand all the new calves. While they're at it, they also immunize them, tag their ears, and cut the balls off the boys. All in a days work for these boys, and hey, real cowboys wear baseball caps >;]

The above pictured are the unsuspecting victims. The following pics are the Perpetrators.





Dick, working when he's ninety...hope I will be this energetic. Granted, the man can work cattle all day, but watch him try to haul his ass out of a deck chair...haha!



Ray, time to make the donuts :)

These are working horses. They are professional, highly trained and very good at their jobs. They have to be, they do all the hard work :P

Left over right, or was it right over left....:P










Gotcha!





Been doing this for 50 years. Makes it look easy as pie :)

Just 179 left to go....

Having an off day. Frisky, spirited animal that doesn't want to work today. Same goes for the horse :P

I don't care what they say, this has gotta hurt :/

I think they are planning on replacing branding by switching to using microchips. I hope so, ASAP, but in the meantime, life goes on, and the valuable animals that feed us need to be kept track of.

Do NOT pick me!!!

This is me on Blackberry. She works way harder than I do :P

Blackberry...taking stock.

Haulin' in the goods.

I don't wanna, don't make meeeeeeee..

Well, doesn't this just suck donkey balls. OUCH!

Having ones balls removed. At least the girl doing it is pretty :)

I guess my daily quota for pics has been reached.

More later.

Fly Me A River....

So, okay. What is the deal with the airlines these days? Here I am, packing for my flight out West, and I have absolutely no frikkin idea what I can put into my carry-on bag. Perfume? No, I could use that as a weapon! Stink up the entire plane like a French whore house by dousing my neighbour (who obviously has never heard of soap...the thoughtless, inconsiderate bastard) and set his skanky ass on fire. There ya go, instant purification! HAHA! HA! Go buy some soap, you stench ridden pustule!

How about eyebrow tweezers? Nope, too pointy. Potential weapon. Nail file? Out of the question. A well-armed woman with a nail file can most certainly hijack a plane merely by holding it against the nearest stewardesses perky throat. "Take me to Calgary!!" Uh, ma'am, we're already going to Calgary..."Get me there faster, the guy next to me smells like a goat that just rolled in Chanel Number Two." Uh, yes ma'am...anything else? Peanuts??? Here, try some of our tasty fish for lunch...

>:/

Nevermind, I saw the movie, I know the pilots get food poisoning from the fish. Haa. They will not be forcefeeding me their toxic waste cleverly disguised as food. Nay. Not to be. But dammidall, it's a 5 hour flight, which means I'm gonna starve. I will bring my own, thinks I! And therein lies my dilemma...what can I carry on board?? I DO NOT KNOW!! Twinkies? Prolly not. I am sure someone can figure out a way to hijack a plane with a Twinkie. *sarcastic tone*

How aggravating it is to travel. I don't know what to take, what is allowed, what is not. How much luggage, what color?? Must the pieces match? Are there other restrictions now? The rules seem to change so fast. The last time I flew was a whole year ago..what if they won't let me board because my outfit doesn't match my carry-on bag? What if my M&M's are seized and I am forced to mail them back to myself at 4 times the price they cost me?? What if I cannot get thru the metal detector because of the 9mm Beretta I crammed up my ass? In a plastic baggie, people, geeze, I'm no fool, I watch the movies, remember? Wet, nasty guns don't fire! Everyone knows this.

And to amuse myself...a CD player?? no, CD's are metal and a)won't make it through the metal detector, b)have been replaced by MP3's, please try to keep up, and c)could be used to hijack a plane if snapped in two and flung with the deadly precision of a boomerang. Beheadings at 30,000 feet! What a cool movie that would be! I wonder if Samuel L. Jackson would want to be in it..?

And how about a book to read? NO!! Paper cuts...a brand new page could potentially be used to slit someones throat with. I've seen Jackass, The Movie. Well, okay, heard about it. Who watches that crap anyways? I heard about a scene where one guy gives himself paper cuts between his fingers. I mean, really. The gene pool needs to be drained, hosed down with gasoline, filled with sagebrush and set on fire. A book is a lethal weapon in the right hands, though....like mine. :P

When did normal, useful items pertinent to our comfort and daily living suddenly become so threatening? Is an Advil considered a life saver, or a life taker? If fired out of a slingshot made with pantyhose, could an Advil be shot with enough speed to enter the cranium and exit the other side? Or would it get lodged halfway through? Or would it simply bounce off and put someones eye out???

I DO NOT KNOW.

Will the insanity ever end?

Counting..

..the days until I leave for my vacation. Which will be a complete relaxation fest, with as little planned as possible except for whatever it will take to avoid inconvenience. I truly do not understand people who work harder to plan and execute a vacation than they do to work for a living. The goal is to remain/become stress-free. Why invite trouble? Bookings, plannings, itinerarys, ticking the boxes, herding the family around like so much prodded cattle, all the while yapping at their heels that they may have forgotten the sunscreen/camera/tickets/passports. And scrambling to get to each destination on time and bustling through it, onwards to the next...all the while missing 80% of the fun while running in circles in total panic mode over each little detail possibly overlooked.

Hell, I'm mentally fatigued just typing that crap out. What nonsense. Why can't people just learn to relax and chill? What has happened to us? To our society? Why the constant need to be bombarded with information, sights and experiences until our overloaded brains just want to cringe and whimper and curl up into tight little fetal positions at the mere thought of the next days Joyfest of Adventures?? That wonderful haphappy List of Things We Absolutely Will Be Doing No Matter What Cuz Dammit I Paid A Fortune To Be Here And We're Gonna Have Fun If It Kills Us!!!!!

To all that foolishness, I say: bother me not. Give me a nice, relaxing visit with friends and relatives, with people I do not get to see often. To go to those places that I want to go to but never seem to have the time. Give me the time spent chatting over simple, everyday things, and enjoy the daily pleasures many of us so often overlook in our haste to get things done. Take the time to look around, see things you normally don't. The sheer luxury of taking your time to experience...whatever catches your fancy. Go to local places you never have time for but keep saying you should go to. Go to places that don't even look like they would interest you, but you will probably love the experience.

Half of us could have incredible vacations in our own cities and don't even realize it. Because of the mythological lure of distance and travel. It's the glamour created by airlines and travel agents....the mystique of Far Away Places!! Exciting...because they tell you it is. But it's your money and your time being wasted on hurricane season and language barriers, the frustration and exhaustion of travelling. How about using your time wisely and staying in your own country? How about the allure and mystery of finding things in your own city, how about spending money to support your countries own tourist attractions and restaurants and culture?

And does anyone even know what quality time is anymore? Perhaps only those of us who find beauty in dandelions as well as orchids. Who find magic in a conversation with a child as well as the celebrity. Quality time is a catchphrase that has come to mean "cramming as much into as tiny a time allotment as possible." This was never how it was meant to be. It does not mean running your children like pony express carriers in order to finish touring places they won't even be able to remember because it whipped past them so fast. Slow down, take it easy, and chill the hell out. This is my advice to you all as vacation season approaches.

Well then!!! Planetary Alignment, or, Things That Go Bump In The Night..

I hate to jinx myself, but things have been going so positively lately that I just have to revel and bask in the sheer joy of it all..



*revel*

*bask*



The planets must finally be aligned properly. Either that, or God has finally decided I might be worth loving :P Fickle being, God. I should buy a lottery ticket, seriously. The problem is that I'm superstitious enough to believe that all this sticky, gooey, sugary goodness cannot last, and that any moment now a radioactive meteorite is going to come crashing thru my ceiling and obliterate all my happy thoughts with blistering Armaggedon and armies of brain-chewing zombies that can only be killed by slicing their heads clean off with machetes that have been blessed by the Pope himself. Or at least Mick Jagger. Assuming Mick can bless anything. At this point, who knows. LOL
Well.
Then!
To begin with, my basement is finally going to be finished. At long last!! After ten long years of patience and martyrdom.. And without going into the dreary, depressing details of this debacle, I will simply assure you that this is the moment I have been waiting for since forever!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU GOD, or, well, thank you Planetary Alignmentation :P :P :P Woot!
I will have my finished basement! And a huge, sick, major league, kickass coral reef tank to boot. With an automatic waterchange system, computerized nitrate, pH, redox, hardness, salinity, and timed lighting system, designed by me, thank you very much :) Kalkwasser reactor, ozone, phosphate reactor, calcium reactor. Yeah, baby! Hmm, along the lines of 300 gallons or so. I do not ask much for my patience and perserverance >:] Okay, so don't look at me like that, I could be asking for a 1970 convertible Jaguar XKE >:] But I'm a simple girl, with simple tastes :P Hehehe.
Next, I am actually being allowed to take a vacation. For some reason, my boss is singularly opposed and resentfully resistant to me leaving work for any period of time. A day off? No. An hour off?? NO!! Must be some kind of mental imbalance. But finally I am free! And thus will I fly out West to visit relatives, bask in relaxation, look at fields full of gentle, brown-eyed cows and flowing fields of golden wheat, or whatever it is they grow out there. And!! soak up some good old fashioned honky tonk music in some of Calgarys finest honky tonk bars. Go, Cowboys, Go! >:] (Also looking forward to triple grade A, Alberta beef, dear Lord(or plantetary align...?), dear someone, meat should melt in your mouth like this all the time!

Also! I heard from some long lost friends. What a pleasant surprise to see them again. Some people really are worth knowing. I have missed you guys. I promise to be more forthcoming and contact you more often.

And now...off to buy lottery tickets. Wish me luck :P

More Ranting, or, Saving Mankind From Itself.

Thank Dogness for Blogger, is all I can say. It's almost cathartic, this ourpouring of angst. Sadly, this is the only place I can speak my mind and not have to listen to some do-gooder try to set me straight...according to them. Ever notice that? All you want to do is unload your mind, release the pent-up frustration, in your best "cry me a river" whine, and people suddenly feel they have to remind you how good you got it? They don't even let you build up steam before attempting to shame you into silence. How bad you are to feel so overwhelmed and underappreciated! How could you! Look around you, you ungrateful louse, you have money, goods and chattels, health care, a great job, family, friends....electronics. The list of things we all have is endless. The fact that we bang our heads daily in frustrated attempts to be heard seems to fly right over some peoples heads. I assume these folks simply have no desire to improve their lot in life.

Well! It may be that we have everything we need. But, do we? If we do, why do we constantly aspire higher? We do live in a great country (Canada, OH) and we do have jobs, and disposable income (sorta) and we have free healthcare (for now...til the powers that be fuck it all up for everyone, give it time, do not get me started...) and so on and such. The do-gooders usually fail to realize one small thing, however. The human condition. Do these people really not understand how and why we have evolved? Do they think we've evolved by taking whatever comes along and being grateful, accepting our sad fate and lying back and letting the dingos eat us?

Oh, hell, no. We evolved by venting our wrath, taking our anger and using it to forward ourselves..to charge fearlessly into new locations, situations, adventures, using the power of our emotions to build new lives, to invent new things, create better ways. And what is up with doing things the same old crappy inefficient way because "that's the way we've always done it"? What is that bullshit? What you really mean is, that's the way we've always done it because no one could be bothered to think about it until now. Just drone along, accepting the difficulties in life because, well...that's how we've always done it. Plus, the ever-present fear of change.

No. This is so wrong.

Why not be brave, be courageous, be pioneers, explorers, inventors, adventurers. Be like Abe Lincoln. Like Malcolm X. These people took their anger, their fear, their shame, their failures, their wrath, even their jealousy and pain, and turned it into positive, life-affirming things that have furthered us, given hope, and created a better society...and I refuse to let some "do-gooder" remove the hope of an even better society from my future just because they fear change. Let me have my angst. Let me use it. It moves me forward while you stagnate in your apathy. It is what my forebears would be proud of. Did they really suffer and die to create a new world just so we could sit here and let it languish in its own indifference? I hope not. I think not. We are not done yet. Our society still needs so much work.

Henceforth shall I rant, complain, think, dream, contemplate, plot, create, conspire, and unleash myself onto an unsuspecting but foward moving world.

Onwards, people. Time's a-wasting.