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.

More My Bad.

What was I thinking? Extreme sport?!? As I sit here, veins happily pumping caffiene to my englightened brain, I ponder the human ability to reduce oneself to the depths of despair and wallow in the slime of low self-image for absolutely no reason. Okay, well, maybe caffeine withdrawal is a bit of a reason :P But really! Was I actually comtemplating cosmetic surgery? Was I that desperate, in my hour of withdrawal and Starbucks need? Did I become temporarily insane? A boob job? A friggin BOOB job?? Dear God, the horror!! What Was I Thinking?!

Thankfully, my sane mind overrode my insane mind before bad things could happen. But this is the kind of stuff that happens to people on a regular basis. Temporary insanity, for whatever reason. Beware out there!! It's all around us. The guy who goes to the dealership to check out this years Honda hybrids and ends up with a gas guzzling Hummer. The woman who simply wants new slipcovers for her sofa but ends up with a 25 thousand dollar remodeling bill :P

What motivates the human mind? What makes otherwise sane, normal people lose it and do drastic things? Guilty things. Things that haunt you. I was lucky, I was stopped in time. But others...they may need help. Friends, family, co-workers. It's all around us, people with perfectly good plans that suddenly go madly awry.

I feel the need to warn you all. It's a jungle out there, beware! Watch out! You could lose your mind ANY minute now and do something crazy. If you cannot stop yourself, at least have the common sense to videotape it and put it up on YouTube. If you're going to be crazy, might as well share it with the rest of us. We need to live vicariously, apparently.

:)

My Bad.

Like, the weirdest crap happens to me at 3am. Some kind of epiphany thing. Back when I was more romantically inclined, I would call it Twilight Wolf time: the time of night when nothing moves but the yellow eyes of the wolves as they roam the deepest night thru moonlit glades. When I would awaken, mind brim full of wondrous ideas and wayfaring plans, I would revel in the magic, pondering the universe in the silver, wolf-filled moonlight. Most of my ideas would be completely forgotten by morning, when reality shines it's cold, stark logic over all dark yearnings. So I learned to write things down, and have kept a pencil and pad of paper beside my bed ever since. Granted, nowadays, it's just that annoying time of night when I wake up with a bladder full of hot pee and the dog hogging all the damn space in the middle of the bed. And the only things epiphanying are the nagging thoughts of all the things I have forgotten to do during the day, for which I am surely going to receive hell for, and which I am completely unable to do anything about as I perch shivering and half asleep on a moonlight white bowl of cold, swirling water.

Anyway, there I am, at 3am the other night, plunking my warm cheeks down onto an ice cold toilet seat, when it occurred to me...I hadn't gotten around to writing about my Extreme Sport of Choice. In all the excitement of my Caffeine Might Actually Be Good For You discovery, it got tossed by the wayside. I would have to correct this little oversight ASAP. Thank God for 3am. And paper beside the bed.

During my process of elimination thing, I started to realize just how few interesting sports there are out there. And what law says I gotta choose some lameass thing that someone else already invented? Why not invent my own sport? After all, I've been doing just that, inventing sportlike ways to risk my life, and really, none of barely scare me. What would I need? And, in fact, why does it have to be a sport? What's with the word sport, anyways? And what would it take to surpass the ahhh, sports I've already eliminated? What would it take to actually scare me? Aside from the startling appearance of a 6 inch fish with a parrotlike beak, that is. Something that even I would never joke about, that even I would not be able to look back upon and laugh about, something really, really scary. What is the only thing that scares me? And then it hit me..

Cosmetic surgery.

So, here it is, in my usual grand style. I do not do things halfway. My extreme sport of choice would of course have to be something dangerous, something life-threatening, something that not too many people have the balls (haha) to endure. And something completely unrequired. That's right. Breast augmentation surgery.

You got it, people. I am going to have my boobs done. Just up a cup size. I don't want to be Pamela. I do not need to look like I have canteloups duct-taped to my chest. Also, a bit of re-shaping, plumping up, like a pillow. I want bigger, shaplier boobs than I already have. I will undergo the horror of some Barbie Doll doctor cutting into me with scalpels and stainless steel, rearranging my interior, molding me like so much Playdoh. And then ensuing problems. The risk of dying under the knife at the hands of a novice anaesthesiologist. The risk of becoming addicted to painkillers and requiring a nice stay at the Betty Ford clinic to recuperate. The risk of my body rejecting the implants. The risk of...*gasp* puckering, scarring, one boob hanging lower than the other...nipple size way off, the color of cheap putty and not the nice sassy pink I specifically requested with the computer program.

Just thinking about it scares me witless..I don't know if I have the guts. The sheer bravado, the fortitude, the charact...oh wait. I don't have to do this..! That's right, I forgot, I have a CAFFEINE ADDICTION! I can have a nice hot steamy cup of molten caffeine, yes I can!
No need to get all crazy. No need to lose my mind. No need whatsoever to get all stupid and shallow and caught up in my appearance. Well. appearance, now that's another post for another day.. :)

When Hell Freezes Over...

So, thanks to my new and improved outlook on caffeine, I'm back on track. Feels pretty good. Like I should dance, or something. But whoa, not so fast...before I start getting all positive, think about the past few days. Weeks. Think about the amount of energy I've used to shovel myself out of the snow and to the edge of hell. To the precipice of insanity. The brink of mindlessness. The abyss...the verge...bah, you know what I mean.

March in Canada. Those three words spark horror into everyone who lives north of 45 degrees latitude. The sheer volume of snow this year has been mindboggling. People are cursing. And swearing, sobbing, vehemently shaking their fists, and bawling tortured tirades against the snow Gods. At least we're not bored. We don't have the time. The snowfall has been overwhelming, and the city keeps posting No Parking signs for the snow removal teams who don't even show up. Just when you think you have yourself a nice cozy parking spot, you gotta find another, sucker, cuz here comes the damn snowplows. Complicating things is the fact that this is a densely populated area, so any available parking spots disappear faster than M&M's at a PMS party.

I saw one poor guy trying to carve himself a nice spot into an 8 foot snowbank across the street from my house. The snow had been placed there by the local plow, a guy we neighbours collectively hire to dig out our lanes and plow our private parking areas. It was packed pretty solid. About halfway thru, he lost it and started smashing his shovel maniacally into the solidified snow until it literally broke in half. Poor, poor bastard. He got back to his car and drove off, defeated. I removed the battered and broken shovel, jumped into his spot and kept digging. Albeit a tad guiltily. But hey, the job was half done, I'm not digging myself a whole new pit when this one was sitting there.

I do feel badly for the snowplow guys, though. I've heard they've been overworked to the point of exhaustion. Buck up, boys. Summers coming, so we can all sit around the outdoor patios down on St Denis street, ogle each other, and drink excellent microbrewed beer while griping about the heat and humidity :)

In the meantime, it's snowing again. Seriously, I finally understand why people go south to Florida when they get old. Shoveling this crap when you're 70 will kill you. And no one wants to die shaking their fists at God.