Been watching a lot of Criminal Minds as of late. I know. Huge shock there. Ian watching a show about serial killers is SO out of the ordinary. AJ Cook is hot. I don’t even like blondes that much but man I’d eat my own arm for a chance to sniff her belly button. She can get it, keep it and do whatever she wants with it. Ok… TMI. My apologies. Anyway for those who have never seen the show it’s about a FBI task force named the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit). Their job is to capture serial killers, serial rapists, pedophiles, mass murderers, arsonists, etc in an attempt to profile their behavior for use against other sickos. It’s nowhere near as hokey as the CSI family of cop dramas though. It often tells tales of some pretty grizzly acts of human depravity not much different than what you find in the news any given day.
How does this tie into our cats?
Last week I had a case that needed solving. I had come in from running some errands to find multiple crime scenes. There was a poop in the bedroom, a pee in the bathroom and a gross heinous explosive puke in the bedroom closet. Immediately I cordoned off the areas to prevent the crime scene from being contaminated. I’ve logged plenty of years as a CD (Cat Detective) so I knew my keen detection skills would be needed on this one. An initial survey of the scene provided immediate results. I ascertained that it was not a tandem act but in fact a single criminal I was hunting. The two Cats of Interest have long and extensive criminal histories dating back to their earlier childhood. The fact that they’re brother and sister lead many to believe that they orchestrate crimes together but in fact they are competitive. Very rarely do they ever work together yet they both admire one another’s work. To my shock and dismay I ended up seeing an episode of Criminal Minds that called “The Last Word” where two serial killers were essentially competing against one another. This led me to believe I was dealing with a creature far more complex than I anticipated.
Both siblings withstood grueling minutes of interrogation without cracking. I didn’t have enough evidence to pin it on either one specifically and feared I would not be able to solve the case before Suzanne’s return from Ottawa. After the clean up crews came in and cleaned up all the evidence I sat in my office trying to figure out who did it. Precious hours were ticking away. Everyone knows a case becomes incredibly harder to solve after the first 48 hours so I was hard pressed to find something to pin on one of them.
24 hours gave way to 48. Suzanne had returned home and I still couldn’t figure which one of the culprits committed the triple caticide. The last thing I needed was a serial shitter with a puking fetish in the office. Desperate, I tried to free my thoughts up by watching Criminal Minds yet again. I can’t recall the specific episode but as I sat there with the crime scene photos scattered across my desk, sipping my coffee, Agent Hotchner outlined a profile to the group of detectives and beat cops he was addressing. He said the perpetrator was narcissistic, had medium to low level education and obsessed with the act he had committed. The thing that stood out the most is when he said that the killer wants control over the situation and will often insert himself into the investigation. He’ll be at the crime scene, posing as a bystander, observing what the cops are doing. Sometimes he may even call in crimestopper tips to the cops leading them to the crime scene.
It was at that moment it all came back to me. I recalled when I first happened upon the first crime scene in the bedroom. As I surveyed the carnage I remember looking back towards the doorway. There he stood. Partially obscured by the doorframe but staring at me with his piercing orange eyes. My coffee slipped from my hands and shattered on the ground like US Customs Agent Dave Kujan’s did as I realized who had done it.
I raced into the bedroom once again and opened the door to the closet. There he stood; going over the crime scene I had cleaned up only a couple days earlier. He looked up at me with those cold orange eyes and smiled.
If you have been never read The Oatmeal’s “How To Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting To Kill You” you’ll get a kick out of it. It gives some amazing and amusing insight into the mindset of cats. Cat owners deal with a variety of quirks with regards to their furry little companions. It’s never a dull day.
So as I was tooling around doing anything and everything non-blog related and I happened upon one of my less frequently checked email addresses. You know that address you usually sign up for everything with? Yeah. That one. I usually only log in once a week at best to clean up clutter but this time I’d been so incredibly caught up with the world around me that I neglected it for nearly two weeks.
After sifting through the multitude of WordPress messages threatening me to moderate my comments I came across an email from a blogger I haven’t spoken with in a fortnight. It was Dragonfae over at Among the Crystals, Dragons and Fae. She inquired about my well-being and politely informed me that I had been tagged in one of her posts. An overwhelming amount of guilt washed over me at that very moment. Her blog used to be a regular read for me. She’s a kindred soul and we share the same humble beginnings in the blogging world. We both just wanted to put what was on our minds somewhere where people could see. Unfortunately a recent spike in my life outside of the Matrix caused me to neglect not only my blog, but hers and about a dozen other people I stalk– err… follow.
I’ve neglected my mistress of random unconventional observations over at Fix it or Deal…
I’ve forsaken the twisted writing of the force known as the Blurt…
I’ve let the eloquently written tales from Herding Cats in Hammond River pass me by…
I’ve missed out on my little Thoughtsy growing up…
I’ve even been oblivious to the real-life joys, trials and tribulations of my dear lady Thypolar…
I could go on forever but you get my point. Needless to say when she said she mentioned me in a post I was expecting to be burned at the virtual stake for blogging heresy.
Quite the contrary.
Instead of raking me across the coals for being an unfaithful blend I was actually christened with a bloggy award. In fact I was given the prestigious Versatile Blogger Award. I’d seen it around for quite a long time now but never expected it to grace my wall. I thought about it for a bit. I wondered, do I truly deserve an award like this? A guy who hasn’t written a real post in weeks? A blog that often reads like a sociopath’s diary?
But then I realized where else can you get a recipe for Peanut Butter Muffins, look at custom illustrations ranging from serial killers to faeries, read movie reviews and indulge in random rants from religion to noisy neighbors. If that’s not versatile I dunno what is. So on behalf of myself and all the other voices that reside in my head, we thank you for the recognition.
Now on to my award duties. As a stipulation for accepting this I must:
- Post a link to the Versatile Blogger who gave you the award. [DONE]
- Share seven things about yourself that are not widely known.
- Nominate at least five other bloggers.
Since I’ve praised my dear Dragonfae already I’ll just move on to the seven things not widely known about me. That’s kinda tricky. I’m sure I’ve had to do this for another award so I don’t know what I’ve said already or not.
Damn the voices..
- I used to have long hair. Well not 80’s rocker length or anything but long enough to have a Cholo ponytail. Yeah. Me with a ponytail. Drink that image in.
- Since we’re talking about hair not many know I used to have a flat top. Yup. I’m talking a sneeze under Kid ‘n Play height folks.
- A decade ago I couldn’t cook to save my life. Yup. I could burn water back then. Now I have people who can cook their asses complimenting me on dishes I’ve cranked out. Go figure.
- I’m deathly afraid of heights yet I have an insatiable desire to sky dive. I know. Paradox, right? I dunno what it is but I’ve dreamt about that since I was little.
- I tried to be a NYPD officer. Yup. Took the written exam when I was a teenager and everything. Course I took the Psych exam and got put on List B. They never call List B back apparently. I suppose that it turned out for the best. Can you imagine me as a cop?
- I lived in New York City for the greater part of my life and have never been to Coney Island. Is that wrong of me?
- I’ve never had a driver’s license but I can driver standard and automatic.
So now that I’ve divulged even more about myself that I probably shouldn’t have, time to nominate some peoples. Rather than double (and sometimes triple) award people I’m hopefully going to present these to first timers…
- Faith & Stage Fright
- The Chronicles of Jim
- Thypolar’s Uncensored Life
- Random Musings of a Frogged Mind
- Left Handed – Right Brained Artwork of Sherry K.
Rejoice and bask in the glory of being nominated by the Worlds Laziest Blogger!
I’m getting a little fed up with how trendy being a geek has suddenly become. Big Bang Theory is one of the most popular sitcoms nowadays. ComiCon is suddenly THE place to be for all things “cool”. Fantasy books are all the rage. Technology is hip and happening. C’mon! Gimme a fucking break. As if we’re about to forget the centuries of malicious torment people have put us through for our eclectic tastes.
Yes I say we.
I belong to an exclusive club that was formed long before man became civilized. When the monolith suddenly appeared on the rocky outcropping, we were the ones scrawling pictures of it on the cave wall while the others beat each other to death with bones. Geeks and Nerds banded together to bring forth the Renaissance. Who else would question the world being flat? We accidentally triggered the Spanish Inquisition and Salem With Hunts because people came across some of us LARPing in a fields. And yes, we united with the Nerd Brotherhood once again and brought you the Interwebs. They wanted to prove it could be done, we wanted unlimited access to porn.
We do not take kindly to people referring to themselves as geeks. The first rule of Geekdom is that thou can not call oneself a geek unless thou art christened a geek by a geek. Just saying you’re a geek gives you no credibility. Your actions and words must be deemed worthy by a geek of equal or superior heraldry. We recognize, protect and govern our own.
You must also realize that we geeks have many clans. We can specialize in various areas but rarely more than three or four at a time. Anymore would tread upon the hallowed ground of Nerdom. A Geek-of-all-Trades is an often coveted but rarely obtainable position. Techies, dweebs, movie geeks, lit geeks, tv geeks, comic freaks, fanboys (or girls), trekkies, LARPers, video gamers, deadheads, gearheads, potheads, vampers, roleplaying gamers, bunny huggers, tree biters, non-hostile celebrity stalkers, impersonators, mimes, geographers, professional wrestlers, chefs… we go by many names. I am an artist and a movie geek which gives me an almost archon-like position in our caste system. Though I have not achieved the rank of “Movie Geek of Epic Proportions” I strive towards it daily. Not a day goes by where movie dialogue doesn’t filter its way into my conversations. I am a quote machine and have an uncanny knack for recognizing actors before they were famous and predicting if they’ll skyrocket (Hi Jessica Alba – Remember Flipper?). My redundant movie knowledge qualifies me as a living breathing IMDB which makes me utterly awesome at parties.
Tread carefully when you refer to yourselves as a geek ladies and gentlemen. The real geeks out there don’t take kindly to your fly-by-night trend whoring. We are proud of who we are and dread having the bandwagon tip over from all of you jumping aboard. Do not sully what has taken us a millenia to cultivate. We like what we like because it makes us happy. Not because it’s cool. It’s always been that way. Always will be.
Piss off and get your own culture.
I’ve been a bit off my game the past few days due to some personal issues so I figured I would ride a blogging buddy’s coattails and ease my way back into carefree writing. Amy is a nut. Not a watch your children or that’s my man kinda nut. A good nut. Like a Macadamia or cashew. She’s also incredibly witty. She wrote two of the funniest posts I’ve ever come across. The brilliant part about these posts is that it was the world itself that supplied the punchlines.
That’s the beauty of Google.
Back when she did her first This is not the blog you’re looking for post I nearly passed out from laugh so much at the absurdity of some of the search terms that lead people to her blog. I was but a blogging babe at the time and had virtually no one visiting my blog, accidentally or intentionally. Flash forward several months and Amy debuts her side-splitting followup sequel appropriately titled This is not the blog you’re looking for part 2: the wrath of google . Once again pure hilarity. It was mind-boggling how utterly out there some of the queries were. It prompted me to check mine to see if this bewildering phenomenon was happening to me as well. I keep an unwavering eye on all my daily search terms. There’s no possible way any slipped by…
… or did they?
nude women bondage “prison island”
Fuck yeah! Why haven’t I written about, drawn or seen this??
post apocalyptic fashion design
You think the world isn’t preparing? At least if this whole web design thing doesn’t pan out I have another career option to fall back on.
biggest sword in the world
Probably the best compliment EVER.
fucking ugly bitches
Why? Aren’t hot chicks so much easier on the eyes?
Not even if I was drunk as a skunk, smoked several joints and high on acid.
sarth vader fuck leia
It’s a new scene Big George plans to add in the next anniversary edition where Vader’s long lost mentally challenged brother is CGI’d into Jabba’s brothel and has sex scene with Leia. Wait for it people. It’s coming.
what did kurtwood smith look like when he was younger
awesome hot larp chicks
There is absolutely nothing true about any of this.
i am unintelligent
The first step is admitiing it.
19 never had any friends
The easy solution would be to gather those 19 and put them in a pen together and viola – they’d have friends. Simple. Or is it that you’re 19 and have no friends? If that’s the case then that’s just sad. Amusing but sad.
graphic designers working on themes of alcohol
Hell yeah. Another career choice. Who’d have thunk there was a market for such a thing.
i hope mcdonalds dies
should i get disappointed with my dogs?
food that die
… tonight at 11 following your local weather.
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Apparently my awesomeness spans international borders.
Today I’m not going to present you with one of my usual wacky, upbeat and off-the-wall posts. There are no pictures. No jokes. The cynicism is absent and all that is left are some words from a broken heart.
My uncle was an interesting dude. I mean that right down to calling him a dude. His long curly golden locks that fell down to the back of his neck and bronzed tan told the tale of a man of who loved to be outdoors. He loved it all. Fishing, hiking, biking, sailing. If it involved being outside, he was there. He was a man after my own heart because he would never go to a doctor unless it was extremely dire. Considering he kept himself in such great shape he never had a need to go. His philosophy was that doctors were like mechanics – they’ll find something wrong even if there’s nothing. Who needs that burden? Just live each day as if it were your last and enjoy yourself.
He was incredibly intelligent man. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at him but that man probably forgot more things than most people learn in their entire lives. He was a jack-of-all-trades when it came to knowledge – which made him a fierce conversationalist. He knew about every topic you could bring up. Not a know-it-all by any means but he knew just enough about everything to hold his own (and then some).
I don’t remember much my childhood but do I recall that he, my aunt and his daughter (from a previous marriage) would take me out to Montauk Point every so often to hang out at their cottage for a weekend or so. It was a blast for me. I was a city kid and getting to take the 2 hour drive out to the tip of Long Island was an adventure in my eyes. We would have barbeques, hang out on the beach and of course fish. That was my uncle’s thing right there. He had a little speed boat that he would take right out onto the Long Island Sound and fish right off the coast. That of course meant I had to go with him. I’ve never been a big fan of open water. That probably stems from an allergic reaction to not being able to swim. It’s like I tell Suzanne all the time “I swim well… underwater”.
He took me out for the first time in his boat despite my adamant protests against it. He guaranteed me I would have fun so I reluctantly went along. We went out far enough so that the hills along the coast looked like humps on the horizon – far beyond my comfort depth of knee-high water. He dropped anchor and we bobbed along like a drunken buoy. He pinned a worm to a hook and fastened it to a rod that he later handed to me. After an express course in the basics of fishing and how to use the rod we got on with the time-consuming process of waiting for a bite. As we sat out there I was amazed at how comfortable I was with the whole experience. Normally I’d be on edge dreading that the water splashing into the boat would sink us, but he calmly chatted away about anything and everything putting my mind at ease. My uncle never treated me like a kid. He always talked to me like an adult so even though I didn’t quite get some of his political or pop culture references I still appreciated the fact he conversed with me as an equal.
After an hour or so of no fish activity he spotted a bunch of gulls circling around closer to shore. We quickly packed up our rods and pulled up the anchor. To my shock he turns to me and says something that I’ll never forget…
“Okay. Swing us around to over there!”
I was stymied. I had never driven a car much less piloted a boat. He ripped away at the pull cord and got the motor buzzing. I was paralyzed with fear but eager to man the wheel. I hopped in the pilot’s seat and in a flash we were off. He instructed me how to cut through the waves as we made a bee line for the hot spot. I was in a zone. It was exhilarating to leave fear behind for a minute and just enjoy what I was doing. The water spraying on my face cooled the oppressive heat of the sun above and I was feeling on top of the world.
That was until he whispers to me, “You better slow down. There’s a reef somewhere around here. Can’t remember where exactly. Don’t want to hit that. It’ll rip us right open.”
I froze once again and quickly relinquished control of the boat to him. Thankfully we never got anywhere near the reef. Although we returned to shore later that day with no bounty I still had an awesome time. We all went out for ice cream and a movie later that night. Tucker: A Man and his Dream was playing. It was a terrible movie but I didn’t mind it because I was spending time with the family. My uncle, being the eclectic type of person he was, enjoyed it very much. It was yet another piece of ammunition for his vast arsenal of conversational topics.
Last Friday night, he suffered a hemorrhagic stroke that put him in a coma. His neurologist declared him brain dead from the amount of trauma he endured and that he was in a vegetative state. On Sunday, June 12th 2011 at 8:52pm I lost a person who I thought was invincible. It really pains me to write this part. I’m always criticized for not showing any emotions when it comes to death and tragedy but that’s just how I am. I have my moments, away from prying eyes, where I grieve in my own way. I’m no use to anyone if I’m an emotional wreck so I always have an unshakable, serene appearance whenever faced with moments like this – or at least I try to. I regret not speaking with him much in recent years. I remember that last phone conversation I had with him revolved around troubleshooting some computer issues.
I didn’t know him as well as I should have and I blame myself for that. I do cherish the time that we did spend together. He was one of only a few men I put on that upper tier alongside my father.
Goodbye Uncle. I’m sorry I never got a chance to say that to you. You will be missed.
Rest in peace.
Yes I read my own blog sometimes. It’s not because I’m so in love with myself that I have to experience my own awesomeness a second time around. And no it’s not because I’m incredibly bored and have nothing to do. It’s not like I read everything. Sometimes when I’m doing pingbacks or editing old posts I sit there and go over what I’ve written. I remember things about as well as Dory does so sometimes I need to refresh my memory about what I’ve already written about. So for the sake of getting more thought garbage out I decided to summarize my blogging experience thus far.
It’s just another persona
Argue as much as you want, a blog is not mirror image of your persona. It’s just yet another extension of your personality. A blog can be a very close reflection or a wildly contrasting side of your true self. It’s all about what you want to get out of it. I started blogging to clear my mind of excess clutter but it’s mutated into something more. I have a very warped train of thought and twisted sense of humour that apparently appeals to some. I am an entertainer. I’ve always been that way. The joke maker. The proverbial life of the party. I enjoy entertaining on multiple levels but I still very much write for myself. The twist is that I try to make what I talk about somewhat appealing to the masses. There are those who know me like a book and those who stumble upon this wasteland. From the outside looking in I come off as an egomaniacal, super geek with a heart of gold who needs his mouth washed out with soap. Some people drink that in and take it for what its worth. Those who have the luxury of being able to match the truth against the show are awarded a much more enjoyable reading experience.
I don’t subscribe to your reality
Just because I don’t subscribe to blogs doesn’t mean I don’t read them regularly. I’m sorry. I just don’t subscribe to many blogs and even when I do I turn off all the notifications. I don’t like being told when I should read. I read when I want to at my own pace. My place of honor lies in the blogroll. I don’t just dump anyone there all willy nilly. People on that VIP list have earned their spots there. If I haven’t been to your blog more than 3 times you don’t get listed. In the world of the Zen Assassin the authors found on the roll are people I respect and follow religiously. I spread their words to weary travellers who happen upon my blog through that prestigious link. It’s my way of paying homage to them. That it why they are referred to as The Worthy. So don’t get offended if I don’t click a subscribe button. Get offended if you’re not on the Guest List. *nyuk nyuk*
Not everyone is a douche
I feared blogging for a long time. It reeked of pretentiousness. Admit it. If you’ve never blogged before and someone tells you “hey check out my blog” you cringe in disgust and think to yourself you pretentious little motherf*cker. I openly admit that was my mindset prior to getting involved. After all just about anyone can be a food or movie critic because they have a blog, right? However since entering this strange and addictive world I’ve come to understand that the egotistical, self-serving, c*cksmoking attention mongers are in fact the minority. The vast majority of bloggers are just decent everyday Joes and Janes with something to say. Unlike Facebook and Twitter where it’s a competition to see who can have the most grammatically flawed tweet or wittiest status message bloggers tend to have one inescapable commonality – they like to write for the sake of writing. Sure some have diatribes of rambling nonsense *ahem* but in a world as large as ours there’s something for everyone out there. I’ve met some pretty extraordinary people during my stint here and absolutely regret not diving in sooner.
Commenting here will make you a God-hating atheist, give you the clap, cause pain, suffering, instant death and send you straight to Hell
… or at least that seems to be the stigma attached to my blog. No one comments. I for the life of me can’t figure out why. I haven’t placed the impaled bodies of those who have commented in the past on my doorstep. I love comments. It lets me know I’m just not talking to myself as usual. I have a very loyal following of really eccentric and utterly intriguing individuals who almost always leave a comment. They’re the ones who actually keep me writing more often than not and I thank them wholeheartedly for that. I admit, I don’t comment on everything I read either but I do when it’s something I appeciate. Every blogger goes though the “is anyone even listening” phase. When you have a fountain of unconventional sanity like you find here, sometimes people choose to observe from a safe distance. Have no fear though. I don’t bite…
…unless you let me.
So it’s June 6th and no new posts until now. Way to stay on the ball there, Ian. I’m a victim though. An unfortunate casualty of being a multi-tasker with a short attention span. I rarely post anything on weekends because blogging (for me) is a time-consuming task for me. I daresay it comes eerily close to being work sometimes. I spend more time editing, tweaking and dolling up a post than I do actually writing it. But then again getting the many bits and chunks of my thought chowder into the bowl can be an effort in itself.
So what better way to post than to post about how long it takes me to make a post…
- 9:15am – My task starts today with my Monday visits to my blogroll. I need to read so that I can get my brain jump-started to do my coding. I’m starting to feel the oppressive thumb of the blank calendar pressing down on my forehead so I’m going to make a post today… but what about? I’ve had tons of though vomit over the past couple of weeks but would any of it be worthy of a post? Why not write about how long it takes to make a post? I started the post a couple of weeks back but it only got as far as a title. Takes too long to write a post so I had left it. I figured I’d come back to it eventually…
- 9:43am – Read more blogs than I originally set out to and noticed that I was missing a couple of key elements on my own. I usually make my Facebook rounds while I’m catching up on WordPress and realized I never put up a badge for my work page. Being the true slacker I am I haven’t checked the status of that page in a couple of months. To my surprise I have enough fans to actually get a legit Facebook page name. I can’t very well go and post without updating that first…
- 9:56am – With the page badge added and other nick knacks tweaked it’s time to image hunt. Can’t very well have a post without at least one picture. Shouldn’t be too hard to track one down related to the subject matter….
- 10:27am – That took far longer than I wanted but I found something worthwhile. Now I can upload it to the bucket and get to writing. Damn. Morning business emails are starting to trickle in. Have to tend to those first. Plus Suzanne and I are currently trying to hash out some personal business via email. I wonder if this post will get out before noon…
- 10:59am – Just sent out a flurry of replies to business associates, still conversing with Suzanne while trying to write this post and get work done at the same time. I’m getting the uneasy suspicion that I’ve done a post exactly like this before. I have to check. My memory is for shit…
- 11:07am – Okay. It wasn’t exactly the same but pretty close. That one talked more about how easily distracted I get during the course of a work day. Course that’s kinda what’s happening here too. Sheesh. Tracking that down was hard. For a person that balks about not writing enough I’ve written a lot. I really need to go back to my older posts and reformat them slighty. Not right now of course. I have to finish this bloody post off. Damn the perfectionist in me. Uh oh… another reply from Suzanne. Gotta read and respond….
- 11:20am – Had to break out the calculator for that email. I hate math. Oh well there seems to be substantial enough content to justify a post. Time to spell check. Lord knows I’ve been a typo tornado in comments as of late. Don’t want to muck it up here as well….
- 11:23am – 12 errors? Really? Trust me people, I’m not a complete idiot. I just can’t type. Seriously. 12+ years in front of a computer and I still rock the 6 fingers typing style. It’s getting close to lunch. I have to do my last minute formatting and preview it…
- 11:28am – Damn. Lots of caveman speak and Twitter grammar. Need to clean that up and make it somewhat coherent…
- 11:36am – Okay. That makes a bit more sense now. You suck balls spellcheck. I found a couple of errors you missed. You were going to just go and let me post that and look like a total fool. I’m onto you. Dammit! I forgot tags. I suppose I should add them now…
- 11:43am – Tags entered. One more check before I publish… and I still don’t know what the HELL is a Wang Chung and why I would want to do it tonight?? Damn you iTunes…
- 11:48am – Looks solid but chances are I’ll find something after publishing. Oh well. Total time consumed making this post: 2 hours 33 minutes. Awesome.
How long does it take any of you to make a simple post? 😉
A cool breeze slips in through the partially opened balcony door. The sun is on the rise casting a baby blue blanket over the slushy capital city. Ravens the size of small cattle dance throughout the sky bellowing mating calls while the ever-present hum of airplane engines echo in the distance. It is 2am in the land of the Midnight Sun and all are asleep.
Everyone except the Dynamic Duo…
“Why do you do that?” Brit asks Jemaine as she lounges lazily high atop the cat tower.
“I’m looking for her.” he replies trying to blog on the computer that is off.
“Sophie?” frustration creeps into her voice, “How many time do we have to go over this? She’s not here! She hasn’t been here for like months!”
He saunters his way over to the couch, “I know and I’m quite certain she was taken by The Bear. I’m still holding out hope for her. That’s why I call out in the middle of the night. Just in case she’s there. That and… I’m also hungry.”
“Oh my GOD! You’re still going on about the Bear?? It’s a coat for fuck’s sake! A coat! Anyone in their right mind can see it’s a coat!” she scoffs as she sits upright now and glares down at him
” No. No. It’s not. I’m certain it’s a bear. Do you hear the rustling sound it makes when it comes out? I have it on good authority that bears rustle just like that.”
“You’re an idiot. Bears don’t rustle. How do you even come up with this stuff??”
He charges up to the 2nd rung of the cat tower and starts tearing away furiously at the scratching post beneath her, “No you are the one who sucks, Brit! I’m right about many things. I was right about the vet wasn’t I?”
“What the hell are you talking about? You were caught off guard even more than I was!” she lashes at him before punching him on the top of his head.
“No no. Not that time. They fooled us that time. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice then…uh.. well it just isn’t good. I’m talking about the second time they took us.” swiping back at her but missing badly.
She sits patiently and watches as he punches blindly at her, “Are you daft? We’ve never been back there.”
“Yes we have. Don’t you remember when they took us to that one place where we waited for a couple of hours. Then we got in our apartments and took that really long drive. Then it was white and cold outside but then they brought us to that waiting room for a like a week or two. Remember how I said that it we just kept shitting they would know we were okay and they wouldn’t take us to the doctor – and they didn’t!” he boasts confidentially as he sits back and looks up at her.
“You are truly short bus aren’t you? That wasn’t a car ride you doof! We were in something far more terrifying than a car. I dunno what it was but it sure as hell wasn’t an automobile.”
She pauses for a moment then stares at him with wide unsuspecting eyes, “Oh my God. You think we’re still waiting to go to see the vet don’t you? You think we’re going back to the place with the stairs at some point? Dude… we moved. Don’t you realize that? I don’t know where we are but this really bright, white and cold place is home now. “
“You lie! I have been saving us all this time by crapping 20 times a day! That keeps the Bear away and the Bear can’t take us away like it did Sophie! I’m positive it is working for the vet!”
“I am not! I will eat you now, Brit! Prepare to be eaten and then shat out for the greater good!
He launches himself up at her. Unfortunately his rather bulbous gut prevents him from scaling his way to the top-tier. Seizing the opportunity she leaps from her perch and onto the couch. Realizing he’s been outmaneuvered by his smaller and nimbler sister he regroups and springs towards her. His moves are slow and predictable. She dashes off the cushion and around the other couch before he even lands. Enraged he launches himself in her general direction. The laws of physics grab hold of him as his weight times the speed he’s moving send him crashing into the empty food bowls. The commotion startles Ian and Suzanne out of an already shaky night’s sleep. Before either of their visions can focus, Brit vanishes under the bed like a ninja into the darkness leaving Jemaine behind as he charges his way into the bedroom.
He now realizes he’s awakened father and mother and pauses. He wants to run under the bed but that’s not a good idea right now. Brit snickers at him from the shadows as Ian rises from the bed in a fit of rage. Panic-stricken he bolts from the doorway and back into the living room with father in hot pursuit. He tries to lose him in the maze of chair legs beneath the kitchen table. Unfortunately for him Ian has armed himself with the water bottle and he has now boxed himself in. Water pellets riddle his body as he cowers in fear.
The assault subsides and the father retreats back into the bedroom leaving a Jemaine wet and shamed…
“I will get my revenge, Britanny. Oh yes… I will get my revenge…”
That’s when the sky starts to lighten up now. That’s about an hour earlier then at the beginning of the week. I’m a little concerned that my demeanor is slowly devolving into something that is a cross between Bugs Bunny and a zombie. My level of cynicism and sarcasm has risen to an all time high, my brain is constantly firing but it’s spouting out gibberish 90% of the time fused with inaudible groans, I stumble about more than usual without being drunk and I may as well hook myself up to the coffee IV at this point in time – which sucks because unlike normal humans coffee isn’t a stimulant for me. I drink it to relax myself and fall asleep sometimes.
I’m finding it incredibly hard to sleep up here. Correction, I’m finding it incredibly hard to sleep normally up here. My wife will contend that I sleep just fine but that’s not what my mind or body is telling me. It’s not that I can’t sleep with the sun out. Hell I can sleep standing up in a fully lit (and moving) subway car so that’s not an issue. It’s what this nuisance known as the sun is doing to me mentally. I find myself forcing myself to sleep rather than having it happen naturally. When we first came up here many moons ago I was absolutely in my element. I am a child of the night. Sorta like a sexy vampire but with no bloodsucking and looser pants. I’m alive at night. I work best at night. I write my best at night. When days consisted of 19hrs of darkness and 5 hours of light I was in my zone blogging, working and being just an Energizer Bunny full of life. I’m kinda glad I was at the peak of my blogging because had I started now I’d probably would have never blogged at all. It’s brutal. I couldn’t have anticipated how much a few extra hours of daylight would have such a profound impact on my daily living.
Who am I kidding? I’ve never liked the sun.
Regardless, as the days get longer and longer my Bizarro Superman darkness-fueled powers fade more and more. And we’re not even into Summer yet. That’s where the real fun begins. From what I’m constantly told we don’t get full on 24hrs of daylight because we’re just outside the infamous arctic circle but let’s just say it never really gets dark either. Woo hoo. Mix that with my wife into a new kick of playing music to go to sleep at night and I’m in store for a wonderous next couple of months. Mind you, she just bought a white noise machine not too long ago to help her sleep. You know those rainforesty, crashing waves crickets fucking type of things but apparently she’s abandoned that for block rockin’ beats.
I sleep with earplugs. Not by choice. It started back when there were habitual partying neighbors above us in our old apartment. I’m the kind of person that can fall asleep anywhere at anytime if I’m tired but if there’s even a hint of unwelcomed noise, I can’t sleep. I later donned the plugs once again when a child with name of the Norse God of Gods, Odin, walked the Earth above me. He certainly lived up to his tremendous namesake. I thought in fleeing to the arctic north I would relieve myself from the noises (and voices) that plague me nightly but then Jemaine and Brit decided they learned enough English and elected to test it out every morning at 5am by singing Lionel Richie’s “Hello”. Mind you they only know the hello part and while to some it may seem cute and amusing, I wholeheartedly believe I can make a cat fly before the end of the summer if it keeps up.
I apologize for a great many things…
I apologize for posting a Lionel Richie video. Although I think he should be apologizing for the video itself. The girl is blind and he says “is it me you’re looking for”. That’s just some cold-blooded non politically correct shit there Horse Man.
I apologize for the run on sentences and tangents that stray from the main point during the course of this post. But then again if I don’t have a point to begin with is it really straying from it?
I apologize for not being a daily poster. No… I don’t want to be a giant paper on a wall. I’m just sorry I can’t produce as much content as others in the blogiverse can. I have weeks worth of events, sights and experiences locked in my brain but the creature at the helm of my brain only allows me to blurt it out as he sees fit. I write articles, albeit weird and disjointed ones at times. I can’t just write to hear myself talk. Some people appear to thrive off of that but that’s just not me. While I do ramble, rant and babble I do it for the people 4700+ people who have and still do come to this blog who area interested (for some reason) in what I have to say. Thank you loyal and demented followers (and those passing through). It’s always comforting being able to spread my infectious dribble across the world.
I apologize for having an Arctic char in the freezer. Yeah. I got a whole frozen fish in my freezer and have never scaled or gutted a fish in my life. It had to be purchased though. I recall salmon steaks and fillets running at least $9 – $12 in the south for the skimpiest portions. This is a whole fucking char, freshly caught, for $25. How could I pass up a deal like that? Course my do now, think later mentality has put me in yet another bind. I don’t care. I’ll defrost and cut that bastard up somehow.
I apologize to Missy for stealing her unicorn and assassinating her with it. I didn’t mean to. Okay… that’s a lie. I did but only because you were slowly killing me the entire time I was fighting my way through the inner ring. C’mon. I was broke, had no fate and was dragging a dragon carcass around for most of the night. The gnome in my pocket didn’t help out much either. When I saw my opportunity to take you down I went for it and prevailed as the ruler of all. If you’re reading this and don’t believe a word of what I’m saying there were three other witnesses to monumental event so I’m not crazy. Course there was a lot of drinking involved too and I do recall Missy requesting that I draw it at some point so I guess that’ll be a future post, eh?
I apologize to Bell and Corus Entertainment for living on Baffin Island. When we left Kitchener we brought our receiver with us. Bell still offered service up here so we figured it was easiest to just bring it and not have to worry about getting a new one. For months we’ve had the same Astral Media programming we had down south. You know like The Movie Network and east coast stations. That all changed 2 days ago when the brainiacs over at Bell decided to switch our service without notice. Apparently, according to them, the entire territory of Nunavut falls under their west coast services. Nevermind the fact Nunavut makes up about a third of the entire country (with roughly half of that in the east). I’m no geographer but last I recall Iqaluit is still in the Eastern Time Zone. Heck, if you pull out a map or a globe you’ll see that we’re further east than Kitchener, Toronto and even New York so of course I want to see west coast programming. Does this make even remotely any sense to you? Maybe my sleep deprivation is making me see things in a skewed perspective but doesn’t it bear to reason that if I’m in an East Coast time zone, shouldn’t I get east coast programming? Bless Bell and the monkeys they have working there.
Lastly I apologize for being awesome. Over the last few weeks I’ve come under a lot of fire from critics and cynics for my proclamation of awesomeness. It’s understandable that there is a lot of animosity and jealousy when it comes to being in the presence of something truly awesome so in being the awesome guy that I am I’ll try my best to contain my aura. I’m not being egotistical or overly confident. I’m just being what I am. A tiger can’t help being a tiger. He’s born that way. I can’t help being awesome. I was born that way.
Apparently someone out there believes that the World’s Most Laziest Blogger deserves yet another award.
Yeah, I know. Came as a shock to me as well but my blend over at ThyPolarLife decided to grace me with the rather boldly pink and red Cherry on Top Award. Truthishly (yeah yet another made up word I decided to apprehend and make my own), I feel unworthy of an award. My other award was a stretch as it was. Stylish Blogger. Really? Either someone is playing a cruel joke on me for my extreme lack of style or I’m just incredibly oblivious to my own writing. I still very much appreciated it though. I enjoy being Pressed by my fellow bloggers. It felt like a Right of Passage so to speak.
If you look at the fine print in this award though it says For beautiful blogs with that little bit extra.
Beautiful? Really? Am I being mocked?
This blog looks like the inside of a serial killer’s mind and often has deranged pseudo-anarchist ramblings slathered all over it. I admit though, it does have that little bit extra though. My blog is sort of a one-stop-shop for those looking to kill time. Where else can you find recipes, artwork, religious debates, mindless ranting, short stories, and constant movie references all in the same spot? I’m like the Walmart of Distraction. A veritable Seinfeld-esque blog about absolutely nothing.
My duty in receiving this it is to post three things that I love about myself and then select 5 fellow bloggers that I feel are deserving of such fame. Personally I don’t think I’m in a position to wave my magic wand and grant this award to another person because I think I’m undeserving. So I’m going to take a page out of Wendy’s book over at Herding Cats in Hammond River and change the game slightly. I’ll essentially be ending the line here by breaking the rules (sorry Jill) but in the spirit of the award I will be putting some of you on to some posts and bloggers I find truly remarkable.
Firstly, let’s go through the 3 things I love about myself. That’s a tough one. For a person with no ego it’s really hard for me to evaluate myself like that but here goes…
- I love my humor. Sometimes I think I’m a comedian trapped in a thug’s body. It’s rare when I’m not “on”. Sure I have bad days like anyone else but more often than not I’m always trying to make light of even the darkest situations. If we can’t laugh at ourselves and the things around us we’ll quite literally explode from stress.
- I love my creativity. It’s waned at times but my brain is always firing. I find it hard to sleep sometimes because I get to thinking about something I want to write or draw. Often I find my mind cluttered with so much that I want to do that it’s difficult to actually produce much. My work tends to stifle my creativity despite being a field that relies on it because it’s not my vision that I’m putting out but someone elses. I’m merely a tool to covey another person’s imagination.
- I love that I’m awesome. What else can be said? That’s not narcissistic. That’s just stating fact. If there’s disagreement with that then it’s okay. Everyone is entitled to disagree but my awesomeness still supercedes those judgements so in the end I am still in fact very awesome.
So now that the self-love is over time for 5 posts I’ve enjoyed very much…
- Enso Monkey – It’s hard to single out one of her many amazing photographs but this one is so vibrant it can’t be overlooked.
- Random Musings of a Frogged Mind – An amusing perspective on the Internet.
- Riverboxx – I think we can all relate to this bit of jealousy.
- Hippie Cahier – One of the funniest open letters I’ve read in a while.
- Fix it or Deal – Amy is a nut… and that is why I am forever in awe of her blog. You don’t have to dig deep to find something interesting.
A Secret Lives of Cats Exclusive
Monday March 22, 2011 3:28 a.m. EST
By: The Frosty Bear
(DTN) – It was reported to DTN today that the infamous Resolute parka known as “The Bear” ceased to terrify long-time winter jacket-hater Jemaine Etheridge. Jemaine, a one and a half year old orange and white short-haired cat originally from Niagara Falls, has been in staunch opposition against what he billed as being “noisy and intimidating” outerwear since around October of 2010. The reasons behind his discord have never been fully disclosed but that hasn’t halted his protests over the past few months. He has staged under the bed one-cat rallies and anti-hunger strikes over the past half a year in an effort to make sure the world knew his displeasure with the disputed coats.
We spoke with Ian Etheridge, his step father, who explained to us the events that unfolded, “I had just come in from the post office with several packages in hand. Jemaine has never liked my coat so when I came in I wasn’t expecting him to be there. I figured he was off demonstrating somewhere but then I caught sight of him by the couch. He walked up cautiously, long necking the entire time but came right up to me and let me pet him with my parka on. He was of course still a little skittish but he didn’t bugger off under the bed in protest.”
This landmark breakthrough marks the end of a stalemate between Jemaine and the executives over at Canada Goose.
We caught up with Jemaine yesterday to ask for his insights into his amazing change of heart.
Jemaine: I dunno really. I had just laid down in the living room after trying to eat my sister. My blood was pumping a bit but that was when father came in. He called to me and I swore he said he something to eat so I went over to him to see if he had something to eat but he didn’t have anything to eat. He only wanted to pet my head and not give me something to eat but by that time I didn’t realize how close I was to it.
DTN: Were you scared when you noticed you were near “The Bear”?
Jemaine: Well more leery than anything. Like I’m quite certain it ate Sophie at some point. I haven’t seen her since it came into our house. I try calling out to her every morning at 6am but I think it digested her. That won’t stop me from trying to contact her though. I just fear for father’s sake. I’m not ascared of it. Really.
DTN: How do you explain the accusations about cowering in fear under the bed?
Jemaine: Mmmmm. Bed.
Unfortunately Jemaine was unable to finish the interview. We attempted to contact Brit for a statement on the matter but she declined with no comment.
We at Dystopian Times North can only hope that Jemaine follows through with his treatment and doesn’t slip back into bad habits.
I’ve been inspired by personal awards that have been handed out recently. So inspired in fact that I have decided to infect the world with my own sick taste. I thought long and hard about it… but I was working at the time and started seeing the world in code (like Neo in the Matrix) so my mind wandered. I thought about it again but then I got to playing a video game and once again got distracted. Later on it popped into my head but then I got hungry and that distracted me from my world domination plot again.
FINALLY while I was in the World’s Greatest Thinking Room, I was hit with my idea like a bolt of lightning. Later that night I sketched my vision on paper. I scanned it onto my computer and began the painstaking process of inking it in. After hours of backbreaking labor a creature emerged from my screen that was both deliciously beautiful and utterly ridiculous. I thought to myself yet again, how I can I use this monstrosity to my advantage.
The answer came to in the form of this…
The Patient Zero Lifetime Achievement Award (For the Promotion of All Things Zombie)
I love the zombie genre. That’s no secret. This is my gift to my fellow zombie lovers out there. But alas, just bestowing an award to someone who likes and/or appreciates them isn’t enough. I want there to be more talk, more information, more stories about the undead on the internet therefore the conditions for giving and receiving this award are as follows:
- If you are the recipient of this award and have dedicated at least one post in your blog to zombies, the undead or anything about the walking dead then you are truly one of the infected and have the power to award this gift to two other bloggers of your choice. Make a post announcing your utterly awesome achievement and name your two victims.
- If you are the recipient of this award and have NOT written anything about zombies in your blog then you must dedicate one post to nothing but zombies. A legit post. Not a “I hate zombies” or “Zombies rock” two paragraph announcement. A real post folks. I don’t care if it’s a story, news, a movie review, book review, creative fiction, or whatever. Entertain us! Once you have done so you will have officially infected the internet with more zombie goodness and can reward the gift to others. Make a post announcing your super fresh award and name your two victims.
My rules are simple yet be mindful of who you corrupt. Not many will be willing to participate so you have to know your intended victims quite well. Since I am essentially patient zero (aka zombie-geek-speak for the first zombie that starts an epidemic) I am choosing two fellow lovers of the macabre as my first victims. They have very eclectic followers and I’ll find it very intriguing to see how far this goes. So without further delay I present the first winners of the prestigious Patient Zero Award:
Congratulations ladies. Go forth and spark a pandemic like I know only you two can. Cheers!
Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good looking?
Well after taking a couple of weeks hiatus and participating in some unscheduled snow mobile acrobatics (aka flipping the dang machine) I come back here to find out that I’ve been nominated by both my zombie-love mistress Amy over at Fix it or Deal and the ever lovely poet-who-didn’t-know-it Hippie Cahier for a Stylish Blogger Award…
The award is utterly justifiable for these two young ladies. When I first started blogging last year their’s were a couple of the first blogs I subscribed. They’re both highly creative and entertaining in with their writing styles yet so uniquely different, which is why I adore them and congratulate them on the recognition.
As for me, this came as a shock because I wouldn’t consider my blog to be anything remotely close to stylish. You’re looking at it now! Does this look like stylish? It’s kinda rude, crude and convoluted but apparently a few people seem to like it. It’s even more perplexing that I received the award when I haven’t been blogging as much. I guess that means I should crack the whip and get back to posting then, eh? I know… this is the worst acceptance speech ever but who cares. I’m allowed to gush a bit, right? In doing the brief research on this perplexing win I found out that it comes with a few strings attached. In order to proudly display this trophy I must list five of my favorite things and then pick five bloggers to share this honor with.
Sounds like simpler than picking up a package up here from the local post office… but that’s another story…
Let’s see, 5 of my favorite things huh? That sounds easy in theory but the reality is I can only list 4 of my favorite things which makes it a much tougher decision. Why only four? Well while I am a licensed Professional Dumbass, I know better than to upset the powers that be by failing to mention the relationship I have with my beloved wife as one of my favorite “things”. However since I did make note of it beforehand I think that gives me a pass on having to list it, right? Right? So I will list my 5 favorite things then! >:p
- Zombies – Duh. I mean c’mon if you don’t know I adore the goofy disgusting bastards by now you really don’t know me or my blog. How can you not like zombies? They’re slow, stupid and easy to make fun of. If you’re a fan of the faster ones then they make for great workout partners. They’ll keep that cardio up to par. I’ve loved the zombie genre since I saw the original Dawn of the Dead way back when I was like 5 years old. While there have been some pretty awful interpretations of the idea, as a whole it’s a very fascinating concept to me.
- Silence – I never realized how much I like absolute silence until I came up to Nunavut. At times it’s like being in a sensory deprivation tank it’s so quiet. Having grown up in New York and lived in big cities pretty much all my life it’s utterly zentastic to, as Depeche Mode would say… enjoy the silence.
- Chocolate – Before cigarettes. Before coffee. Before video games. Even before pop… there was chocolate. It reigns supreme in the Kingdom of Ian. When the world gets flipped on its ass and we go back to bartering chocolate anything will have great value within my realm. I was able to quit smoking many years ago and even cut back on my pop and coffee intake but one thing I’ll always go into crackhead mode over is chocolate. If I don’t get regular doses of it I get irritable and get the cold shakes. I need my fix and will do anything to get it. Okay… so that’s a little extreme but I really do like chocolate. ;p
- Face Off – No not the awful Nicolas Cage / John Travolta movie. I’m talking about the TV series on the SyFy channel. I’m not the hugest fan of reality TV (although I am guilty of watching several seasons of Survivor) but there’s something about this show that just gets me. It’s a competition show where contestants are make up artists competing for a grand prize and being judged by some of the industry’s top pros. I guess my fascination for it goes back to my childhood. I think John Carpenter’s “The Thing” did it for me. After seeing that fell in love with twisted movie special effects. That was back in the days when computer imaging was at its infancy so everything had to be made from scratch by hand. I’ve always loved the special effects trade. Screw CGI. The men and women who craft the special effects makeup and prosthetics for movies and TV are the true artists. That’s some serious painstaking work and I applaud what they do. All I can say is Conner and Tate are sick. Artists after my own heart.
- Leah Remini – Okay so… she’s not a thing. Well she kinda is.
A hot sexy yummy thing… wait! I didn’t say that.A thing can be anything right? She’s a person so I’m claiming her as one of my things. I dunno what it is about her. I am utterly smitten with her (and Helen Mirren but that’s another story). I don’t know if it’s her uber-Brooklyn accent or tougher-than-nails attitude on the King of Queens but whenever that show is on I’m entranced by her. It’s all good though. Suzanne has allowed me to fawn over her because I gave her Christian Bale a while back.
Sorry… I almost forgot I was supposed to nominate people. I got so wrapped up in staring at Leah that the world started turning into bright lights and unicorns. ANYWAY… I hate having to choose people. There are so many awesomely talented writers out there that it’s hard to put one above another. In all fairness I shall nominate those who haven’t been nominated already (at least not my knowledge):
- Random Musings of a Frogged Mind – Pure candy for the brain.
- Massively Attacked – My lovely wife. Not only smart but witty as well.
- Herding Cats in Hammond River – Brilliant lady with a pen who also has a magic wand in the kitchen.
- Faith and Stage Fright – Epitomizes style.
- The Blurt – The man who needs no award or recognition because he is awesome (but gets an award anyway).
Enjoy and spread the good nature!
… my writing mojo that is. Don’t want any misperceptions about the somewhat misleading post title.
What can I say? It’s the new year in a new territory. One might assume there’d be a wellspring of topics for me to ramble on about but alas, I’ve hit the proverbial brick wall when it comes to jotting down tidbits from my cluttered mind. I haven’t been motivated to write for the past couple of weeks now. Not because I’ve lost my interest in blogging more rather I just don’t feel like I have anything constructive to say at the moment. I already feel like a louse for having missed out on reading 90% of my lovely blends and blikes blogs for the past couple of months but now I’m starting to feel like a complete waste of time here by not even contributing anything.
No worries though. This isn’t the end of the $#&! I Think About. Like most television series nowadays I’m just on my mid-season hiatus. I’ll be back with all new episodes as soon I settle some contract disputes. Just thought I’d pop on for a minute to let those who actually keep up with my blog know that I’m not dead, I haven’t stopped blogging completely and I apologize for not keeping up (but that’ll make for a lot of good reading on a snow day).
Thanks for the support and stay tuned.
Sadly I came to a realization the other day.
I’m incredibly stupid.
Seriously. This isn’t a shameless ploy to garner some attention. I really am stupid – or at least I feel that way more often than not. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m in no way an pure idiot nor am I unintelligent. I have a vast supply of mostly unimportant knowledge and timeless wisdom for a gentleman my age, but I can’t escape feeling stupid in the presence of others at times. From worldly hot topics to text book knowledge I reign supreme as a certified moron.
Today I present to you the Unabridged Guide To Being a Professionally Clever Dumbass.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been involved in conversations I have no idea what the other parties are talking about. They’ll prattle on using terms and words I’m not familiar with and referencing sources I’ve never heard of while I sit (or stand) there looking on with unflinching interest. I’ve found that if you stare at a person’s eyes while they talk they swear you know what they’re talking about. People take looking into their eyes as them having your complete attention about the topic at hand. I end up looking very interested. Not because I understand what’s going on but because I’ve done drifted far away from the conversation and have been trying to figure out how to spell the first word I didn’t understand so I can Google it when I get to a computer later on. That or I like start singing the Thundercats theme in my head. That ends up leading to an slew of questions to myself about the show… like was Panthro black even though he was blue or why did Lion-O’s sword have an erection all the time? That’s enough to put put a seriously pensive look on my face to get me through the first half.
I’m keenly observant too. That’s the secret to faking like you’re not a complete dumbass. If while they’re talking you see the corners of their mouth begin to curl upwards, I smile in agreement as well. More often than not I probably have no clue as to what I’m agreeing with but smiling and nodding seems to bring reassurance to the person speaking. If I’m able to follow along with what’s being discussed (somewhat) it makes it easier for me to pull out my bag of discussion tricks. If they reach an agitated portion of their story, I shake my head in disbelief in support of their disdain for whatever it is they’re referring to. I find that bridge terms such as Really, Seriously, Get Out, Are You Serious, Absolutely, No Way, No Doubt, For Sure and Oh My God help out tremendously when attention suddenly focuses on you for a response. You have to be mindful of how and when to use them though. Using them too often will tip people off and they’ll think you’re a douche instead of just dumb.
We wouldn’t want that to happen.
I’m not completely without firepower though. I tend to know a little bit about a wide variety of things – just not enough in anything particular – which makes me awesome at being a conversation starter. I’ll often plant a seed of discussion and then let my mind wander off. I’ll sit there trying to remember the moves to the Safety Dance or start cataloging the chicks I’ve seen during the course of the day into groups of “hot”, “cute”, “alright”, and “meh”. That systematic sorting seems to hold a high priority in my brain at times for some reason. If by some twist of fate the conversation veers around and comes back to me for a response, I have to play it by ear. If I can still contribute with something meaningful I will but if not I’ll look to interject something comical as it helps to buy some more time. I’m usually pretty cynical and funny so I can toss out humorous and often witty remarks at the drop of a dime. However if I’ve exhausted my arsenal I’ll slyly try to change the subject to something slightly related so I can employ my full range of talents once again.
Then it’s wash, rinse and repeat until the conversation dissolves itself.
I’m a pro I tell you.
In the end, it has absolutely nothing to do with being disinterested with what anyone is saying. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m just being a dick. I do listen and man I try my best to understand sometimes but once misses start accumulating, the mind just drifts away to simpler things like wondering what bark is made of or trying to figure out where the wild things really are. Sometimes I actually retain some of the information I learn in a conversation. Like I now know that Arctic Char is a northern breed of Salmon and that Hurricanes and
Tsunamis Cyclones (see… STUPID) are pretty much the same thing. How about that? The fact of the matter is I’m not professionally good looking so I can’t get by with my prettiness so I have to employ my wit.
So the next time you’re talking to somebody and you hear the words “really” or “for sure” think to yourself… are they really understanding what I’m talking about or are they just a Professionally Clever Dumbass? 😉
Image Source: http://www.childrensministryonline.com
So I’m a year old today.
Can’t say whether I’m happy or depressed about that. I’m not the kind of person who necessarily celebrates his birthday. I kinda just let it coast by without making too much of a fuss about it. I’ve been in a constant battle with getting old since my teens. I guess I’m sort of like I’m Peter Pan…
Wait. No. Forget I EVER said that. That’s just frightening.
I am just the boy who wouldn’t grow up though. I’m not a fan of that adage about “being only as old as you feel”. My body tells me that I feel like I’m 45 with my achy knees that can predict the weather and constantly sore back. I pop a variety of pills daily and seem to be finding the weight everyone else appears to be losing. I forget more things than I remember and my disdain for the youth of today rivals that of the crankiest old coots. My mind however will never get past the tender age of 18 though. Heck at times I’m sure Suzanne will tell you I act more like a 13yr old more often than not. I pride myself on that though. People get so wrapped up with age and getting older that they cut their lives short prematurely worrying about it. I see it this way, why worry about something you can’t change or affect? Sure you can prolong your life with exercise, healthy eating, vitamins and supplements but in the end you’re going to pass away just like the rest of us. We’re all racing towards the finish line together. I just happen to enjoy jabbing others with my elbow and making faces at them as they go by. Enjoy each day as though it were your last because you never know if it is.
So in celebration of my birthday I took some advice from my blend (aka blog friend… thanks Suze) Christy Miles and decided to make a little Jack Daniel’s inspired label for myself. Cheers!
The majority of the day has been spent in feline bliss. The brightness of the day time hours forced the children into hibernation. As the sun slowly makes it way past the horizon they arise briefly to eat dinner but quickly retreat into the shadows underneath the bed after they are done. It’s a long night ahead and this is early morning for the Dynamic Duo…
7:01pm – The rustling of keys at the door startles the children and they quickly enter the living room to see who is entering the apartment. Still weary from a long day’s sleep and a full belly, Brit turns to Jemaine “She must be home. Quick Jemaine. Pretend like we’ve been awake the whole time. We don’t want her to think we’ve been sleeping all day.”
Jemaine lets out a large yawn as Suzanne walks through the door. He can’t seem to focus on anything because he’s so groggy so he just sits in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, gathering his senses. Suzanne greets him with a loving pat on the head. He quickly gets up and heads towards his empty food bowl.
“Mother. I am so desperately hungry. Father didn’t feed us all day and now I am famished.” he whines to her.
Without hesitation, Brit sits by his side and reinforces his point. “Yes mother. Father is cruel and doesn’t feed us when we want. Will you not help us?” she pleads with large watery eyes.
Suzanne looks towards Ian who is working at the computer and asks if he fed them already. He acknowledges that he did at six, a mere hour ago. Displeased with their attempted ruse, she walks into the bedroom and ignores their pleas of desperation.
“But mother! I am so hungry. Pay no attention to the fact that I weigh nearly as much as a doberman. I’m big boned. I need to eat immediately or else I will die!” Jemaine snaps at her as she leaves.
Brit hops up to a kitchen chair and lays down. “Give it up, bro. They’re not going for it. We’ll have to try something else.”
He approaches the chair and sits next to it. “What do you propose, Brit?” he asks with puzzlement.
“I’m not sure just yet but I’ll think of something.”
7:25pm – Ian and Suzanne have headed out to the store leaving the terrorists by themselves. Sophie rests comfortably in her bed in the bedroom while Jemaine is stationed next to the couch, spying around the corner at his sister who is looking right back at him from the doorway. They say nothing to one another but stare intensely for long agonizing minutes. Finally the Mexican standoff is broken by a butt wiggle and a pounce by Jemaine. He darts across the room with surprising speed. Brit leaps in the air moments before they collide and lands on top of him. The two tumble into the kitchen in a drunken bar brawl fight that lasts only a couple of seconds. Unimpressed with the way events are playing out, Brit cuts the wrestling match short by hopping up onto the kitchen chair once again.
“You’re playing too rough again, Jemaine” she scoffs at him.
“I know. I’m hungry. I was trying to eat you once again. What are you doing to your fur lately. It tastes awesome. What is it? Pantene?” licking his paw and rubbing his head with it.
She lays out flat on the chair, “Nah. Litter probably. My pantaloons are so long right now that I pretty much pick up anything and everything around this house. You’re probably eating at variety of things when you take clips of my fur out”.
“I’m still hungry though. Why won’t they feed me when I want to?” he whines as he lays out sexily across the floor.
Brit peeks over the edge of the chair, “I got an idea. How about you look in the garbage pale over there? There’s bound to be something to eat in there. If I’m not mistaken I think I saw him put some balled up tape in there earlier”.
Excited with the prospect of a delicacy being available Jemaine quickly springs to hes feet. “For real? I’ll go check.”
He saunters his way over the garbage can and props himself up on his hind legs like a meerkat. Carefully he dips his head into the garbage and fishes around. After a couple of moments he slowly pulls out a used sheet from the lint roller. “Aw man! This is awesome! I didn’t know he put these in here. I love licking these. Lint and sticky stuff is like the best combination EVER!”
Jemaine toils around with the lint roller sheet for a couple of minutes before inevitably getting bored. Having found such a treasure, he makes his way back to the garbage for a second dip while Brit watches from above. This time around however, greed mixed with clumsiness causes him to knock the whole can over when he puts his front paws on the rim spilling the contents all over the floor. Jemaine considers this a brilliant move. This makes sifting through the garbage so much easier. He spends the next 10 minutes or so carefully separating the various pieces of trash. Plastic wrappers, tape and anything sticky are hot commodities in Jemaine world so he’s very meticulous in making sure he lays everything out properly across the kitchen.
“You know you’re gonna get into shit for that, right?” Brit cautions.
Unphased by her warning he continues to sort, “Why? I know mother and father have told me to not go into the trash can about a dozen times already but I know better than them, Brit. I’m a year old now and I know there are good things in the trash that they’re holding out on me.”
Slyly Brit hops down off the chair and begins to help with some of the sorting. “You know if you really wanted a treat – I mean a real treat – you know like the kind they give us when we’re good… I know where we can get them”.
He stops what he’s doing and looks at her with wide eyes. “For seriously? Where?”
She looks up to the kitchen table. “I can’t confirm this positively, but I’m sure I saw father put the container of treats up there. Jump up there and see.”
“Father and mother have forbade us from going up there, Brit. Remember the last time when I was on the microwave cart trying to get at the food they tried to stash away from us? Father chased me around the house for several minutes and yelled a lot at me. I’ll get in trouble” he says hesitantly.
“Yeah but that was the microwave cart. They told us to not go on the counters and the cart. They never said anything about the kitchen table so you won’t get into trouble” she reassures him as she cleans his forehead.
“That’s so true. You’re so smart, Brit. I’m on it.”
He scouts the area out looking for the best possible route up. He locks his eyes one of the kitchen chairs for a couple of seconds before launching himself. In one bounce he’s on the chair and in the second he crashes into the shopping flyers that he didn’t see in the middle of the table. Startled by the unsure footing he panics and makes an unscheduled leap off the end of the table sending papers all over the place. With a resounding thud he lands back on the floor next to Brit.
“I didn’t see anything up there, Brit. I believe you deceived me.” staring angrily at her.
“How could you see anything when you jumped right off there in a second? You suck!” she lashes back at him.
“No you are the one who sucks Brit! Prepare to die!”
Without hesitation they spring into action once again. First they race downstairs into the basement. Brit quickly loses Jemaine amongst the obstacle course of boxes Ian and Suzanne have out for packing. She sits high atop a precarious mountain of items Ian is looking to sell and looks down at Jemaine mocking his inability to navigate through the smaller crevices. When he finally has had enough of her taunts the plunges into a pile of boxes and rampages towards her. His awkward and predictable approach gives Brit plenty of time and a clean avenue to escape past him and back up the stairs. Angered by her evasiveness, he takes off after her in hot pursuit.
They clash once again in the middle of the living room. They wrestle on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand. Brit fires a few punches at Jemaine’s head but they don’t deter his relentless assault. He puts her in a headlock and gnaws on her neck. Feeling out of position and vulnerable, she realizes this is a predicament she doesn’t like – being on the losing end – and calls a stop to the bout with a serious hiss. Jemaine backs off for a moment. They stare at one another once again for long pregnant minutes trying to catch their breath.
“I beat you Brit.” he proclaims.
“Okay okay. You won that one. How about we go sleep next to one another on the couch. All this activity has made me sleepy once again” she suggests, still huffing and puffing.
“That sounds like a great idea. I’m sorry I tried to eat you again Brit. I can’t help it sometimes. I’m so hungry”.
“I know, Jemaine. It’s okay. Mother and father will feed us when they get in. You sorted the garbage and cleared the table for them. I’m sure we’ll get treats for this”.
“I believe this will make them happy?” he boasts inquisitively as they lay next to one another.
“Yes it will, Jemaine. How can they possibly get mad?”
They drift off to sleep resting comfortably next to one another…
This is probably my shortest blog entry ever but I consider this more of an observational experiment than anything. For those who are regular WordPress blog readers I’m sure you’ve come across this bit of humor. The next time you’re browsing through the Freshly Pressed or looking back at an article of yours that has been pressed, look closely at the comments. Hidden within the responses are those that I’ve deemed the Promowhores (aka shameless self promoters). They’re easy to spot. They always sign their comments with a link to their blog – as if you can’t simply click on the name and get there. While many may be genuinely interested in the content there are some who simply want to ride the coattails of success. They stalk the pressings looking to be the first name on the comments list so they can draw some attention from being at top. I won’t lie. I’ve done that a couple of times in the past when I first started blogging but what makes them shameless and me not is the fact (a) I only commented on posts I actually did have an interest in and (b) I don’t have a link to my bloody blog in my signature! Shameless I tell you. Shameless.
Something must be afoot. It’s been days since my last post. I know, I know… all of my millions and millions of fans must be waiting with bated breath wondering what new and incredible insights I’m going to grace WordPress with. Okay so there’s nothing true about anything in that statement other than “I’m” and the only thing I have to say is in regards to the lovely men and women at the United Parcel Service.
So I had a discussion with my father last week. Years ago, when I was last in NY I had started building a computer. It was a great system (at the time). It was going to be my new weapon to inflict massive amounts of graphic design damage upon the world. But as life would have it, certain circumstances arose where the construction of that computer had to be put on hold. Pressing real life matters forced me abandon my project in mid construction. Flash forward to present day my father and I came up with the idea of him shipping the partially constructed monster beast to us before we leave for Nunavut. It made sense. I could put it together and have it shipped up to our new frozen home with all out other belongings. Who could handle such a task? Certainly not the conventional mail systems. We’ve had nightmare encounters with the United States Postal Service and inviting Canada Post into the mix is a recipe for disaster. Who then, dammit? Who?
What can brown do for you?
Of course! UPS! I’ve used their postal service for years and have always had good results. They’re quick and reliable. It seemed like the logical choice.
My father brought everything down to the UPS Store and did the right thing – or least what we thought was the right thing – and had them pack up the components. He explicitly told the dedicated worker that it was a computer and needed to be marked fragile and handled with care. He was met with a warm smile and the classic reassurance of “No problem.”
The packages arrived very quickly. Heck I don’t even think it took more than 3 days (and that wasn’t express shipping or anything). When I heard the knock at my door I was jazzed. I was finally going to be reunited with my Frankenstein. When the driver handed me the packages I saw that they were a little dinged but that’s expected with long distance travel. Lo and behold when I opened the box containing my hard drives and case I was horrified…
Yeah… my case was wrecked. The entire front panel had snapped off from the case itself and the top portion was completely shattered. With the aid of some Krazy glue and a bungee chord (yeah I MacGuyver with the best of them) I managed to glue the pieces back together. My hard drives were in an sorry state as well. I had three mounted in it… securely mounted I might add. The one in the drive bay was totally jarred from it’s spot and was inside the case acting like a battering ram to the motherboard. Apparently one of the mounting brackets was bent so severely during transit that it quite literally fell out of its spot. Whatever volleyball game they were playing with my rig must have been a good one because the hits that rattled the first drive loose must have been so violent that they broke 2 of the 4 screws that had one of my other drives mounts. It dangled precariously as if holding on for dear life.
So the what’s final prognosis? Well my monitor works at least. I have to wait on my CPU cooler to arrive before I can assemble everything and test out my board and drives. So it’s the waiting game once again. I should be livid at this point in time but the move has me properly distracted enough. There’s a disturbing annual trend that’s starting to develop every October now. I seem to be destined to have something screw up in the spooky month. Last year I had tried to get some custom t-shirts ordered for my wedding but that fell through right at crunch time. Long story short, I was out $350 four weeks before the wedding and had no shirts. Ironically I’m four weeks away from another big day so I’m hoping that this counts as my bad October event so that we can get to where we’re going without any major mishaps.
What can brown do for you?
Put the kibosh on your property apparently. Welcome to my shit list UPS.
It’s funny hearing about all the myths and misinterpretations regarding Canadians. Being a former New Yorker I too am guilty of either cracking jokes or being misinformed about at least a couple of them. I have the unique perspective of having lived on both sides of the fence of ignorance and I feel compelled to clear up the fog of confusion regarding the World’s Most Friendly Country:
- It’s always cold in Canada and everyone lives in igloos – The latter is more playful ribbing than anything but one of the most popular misconceptions is that it’s always cold in Canada. The majority of the country is along the same latitude as the United Kingdom yet you never hear any cold jokes about the Brits. Some of the northern regions are of course in the Arctic circle and tend to have rather frigid conditions but for the most part Canadians experience the same weather one would receive in any northern state in the US. In fact I can recall quite a few days just this past summer where highs Toronto beat out those in New York and Boston. Winters may last a little longer but the temperatures are pretty consistent. Here’s the averages in January from various locales across Canada:
(Source: The Weather Network)
- Vancouver, BC: 32 / 43°Fahrenheit (0 / 6°Celsius)
- Edmonton, AB: -2 / 18°F, (-19 / -8°C)
- Yellowknife, NWT: -24 / -9°F, (-31 / -23°C)
- Inukjuak, NU: -17 / -4°F, (-27 / -20°C)
- Winnipeg, MB: -9 / 10°F, (-23 / -12°C)
- Ottawa, ON: 5 / 23°F, (-15 / -5°C)
- Toronto, ON: 14 / 28°F, (-10 / -2°C)
- Montréal, QC: 7 / 23°F, (-14 / -5°C)
- Halifax, NS: 16 / 30°F, (-9 / -1°C)
- St. John’s, NF: 19 / 32°F, (-7 / 0°C)
- Canada has better beer than the States – I’m not going to touch this one for fear of being hung from the gallows by overly-patriotic Americans. Everyone is proud of their nation’s beer. Germany is probably the world’s undisputed King of the Brew but as far as who follows after is dependent on each individual’s personal taste. I for one am not a huge beer drinker (heresy I know) so it doesn’t really matter to me. All I do know is that two of the American big guns, Budweiser and Coors, taste like someone spilled their crappy beer in some club soda. Labatte Blue (known locally as just a Blue) and Molson Canadian are far stronger beers and are way easier to down – that’s just a personal opinion though. While Canada may or may not rank in the top 5 worldwide I seriously doubt they fall below the US in that category. I invite anyone from abroad to come sample the ale before making rash judgments. You’d be quite surprised with the results.
- Canada only has poutine and maple syrup as their only contributions to fine cuisine – Canada has a very diverse range of dishes that spans from coast to coast. Canada, like most large nations, is a melting pot of cultures so you can see a lot of Eastern European, South American, African and Asian influences in the cooking. Some examples of regional foods are:
- From the East Coast – Irish Stew, Fish Chowders, Bangbellies (a pork/rice bun), Toutons (Pork Bread), and Duffs (like a dumpling), Molasses Tarts and Partridge Berry Coffee Cake, chocolate bread pudding, oat bread, Cape Breton scones, Creamed Potato Balls, Baked Stuffed Lobster
- Native – Posole Stew (uses hominy), corn casserole, Frypan Fork Bread, Cornmeal pudding, Maple Fudge, Wojape (a berry pudding)
- Quebec – Crème Caramel, French Onion Soup, Split Yellow Pea Soup, Garlic Pork Pot Roast, Cipate (Chicken, meat and vegetable casserole with biscuit topping), 3 crust blueberry pie, poutine
- Ontario – Pine Nut Stuffed Quail, pickled yellow beans, apple butter, headcheese, smoked ham, creamed potatoes, vanilla pie, ice wine, BBQ’s, hot sauces, doughnuts, perogies
- Prairies (I’m not too familiar with foods from this region of Canada) – Crusted Pork Tenderloin, Wild Mushroom Barley Ragout & Summer Vegetables, Grilled Asparagus, Saskatoon Pie
- B.C. – Goats Cheese Terrine, Raisin scones with clotted cream, sablefish, Nanaimo Bars, Poached Salmon, Maple Glazed Chicken Breasts, Oysters, Flatbreads, Vegan cuisine and anything disgustingly healthy (i.e. tofu, miso soup, etc.)
- Canadians always say “eh” and “aboot” – I can honestly say that I have never heard a Canadian utter the words “aboot” in the 10+ years I’ve been here. Course I’ve only been in the Ontario region for the most part so who knows what goes on in the rest of the country. I don’t know where it came from originally but I found it funny as hell when South Park would make fun of it (even if it was confounded). “Eh” on the other hand is something you hear quite frequently though. I’ve even mastered the dialect well enough to use it like a true Canadian as well. Oddly enough it’s not used any more frequently than New Yorkers use “yo” or “aye”. Basically all I had to do to fit in was replace my yo’s with eh’s and say cah-fee instead of cawfee when referring to coffee and all is well.
- Canada has no military – I’ve always made fun of the Canadian Armed Forces having to fight with sporks but the Canadian military is no joke indeed. This one institution consists of three main branches: Maritime Command (MARCOM), Land Force Command (LFC), and Air Command (AIRCOM), which are together overseen by the Armed Forces Council, chaired by the Chief of the Defence Staff. Their annual funding comes to approximately $21.8 billion (ranked 13th), and are presently ranked 74th in size compared to the world’s other armed forces by number of total personnel, and 58th in terms of active personnel, standing at a strength of roughly 67,000, plus 26,000 reservists, 33 warships spread out amongst 2 fleets, 391 aircraft (which is the third largest in the Americas) and over 3600 currently deployed in the Middle East. The statistics are truly humbling and I tip my hat to all those men and women across the world who are serving for their respective countries. It’s a thankless task but your efforts are truly appreciated by many.
- Canadians are always nice – True to an extent. Every country has their fare share of assholes, douches and idiots. You tend to find them once you’ve lived there for a while. Canada just does a good job of not letting them be the face of the country.
- Canada has no contributions to science – Blasphemy. In fact Canada has burned a trail in many fields and is a world leader in regards to contributions to scientific advancement. From Canola Oil to the Blackberry Canada has had it’s hands in the development of many of the technologies and medical breakthroughs we take for granted. I could probably ramble on for days about all of the innovations but if you’re really interested have a peek here and see for yourself.
- Canada has no film industry – It’s hard to find a movie or TV show that isn’t shot in Vancouver or Toronto nowadays. Chances are if it’s shot in Canada, it has some Canadian actors in it as well. They’ve assimilated into Hollywood so well that many of you don’t even realize some of the best stars are in fact Canadian. From Playboy’s Pam Anderson to Star Trek’s William Shatner Canadians have infiltrated all facets of media. Okay so Keanu isn’t the greatest star ever, but you all ate the Matrix up with a fork and spoon so he did his job.The actual Canadian film industry is a budding one. It makes me laugh whenever I hear Canadians say “Yup, that’s definitely a Canadian film” having only seen a few minutes of whatever is on. It’s not from lack of effort. Despite many film and television projects being funded by the government, it nowhere near the same league as Hollywood in regards to financial backing. The Toronto International Film Festival, founded in 1976, l is one of the most prestigious film festivals in the world now. In 1998, Variety magazine acknowledged that “the Festival is second only to Cannes in terms of high-profile pics, stars and market activity.” If you think Canadians haven’t got their fingers on the pulse of the movie industry, you’re sorely mistaken.
- Everyone speaks French in Canada – While that may be true to a degree in Quebec, the majority of the country does in fact speak English – well. In fact most Canadians are bi-lingual.
- Canada’s national sport is hockey – True. In 1994, the Federal Government introduced Bill C-212 that officially made hockey Canada’s National Winter sport and Lacrosse Canada’s National Summer sport. Canadians are definitely passionate about their hockey but don’t believe for an instant that is the only sport accepted up here. Baseball, Football (American and Soccer), Golf, Curling, Boxing and MMA as well as pretty much any winter sport you can imagine from skiing to snowboarding.
- Canadians have no guns or crime – Oh there’s crime here, believe me. And guns. Domestic violence and Robbery/burglary crimes seem to be the most prevalent. There are probably more guns in Canada than in the States based on the fact that this is a hunting nation with the vast majority of the country being wilderness. The big difference is that Canadians aren’t shooting one another. Their preferred methods tend to be fists and knives. It still strikes me as odd to read about small businesses being robbed at knife-point. You don’t hear about that much in New York.
- All Canadian cops are mounties – That’s probably as ignorant as it gets. The RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) is the national police force of Canada, and one of the most recognized of its kind in the world. It is unique in the world as a national, federal, provincial and municipal policing body. The RCMP provides federal policing service to all of Canada and policing services under contract to the three territories, eight provinces (the RCMP does not serve as provincial or municipal police in Ontario and Quebec), more than 190 municipalities, 184 Aboriginal communities and three international airports. They’re like the Feds in the States. Every province has their own police service such as the OPP (Ontario Provincial Police) which are the equivalent of state government agencies such as the NYPD or LAPD. The RCMP have jurisdiction over them all. Cool, eh?
- Toronto is the nation’s capitol – With over 2.5 million residents, it is the fifth most populous municipality in North America. I think the popular misconception is that Toronto is in fact the capitol of Ontario. Ottawa, the second largest city in Ontario, is the nation’s capitol.
My name is Ian and I am proud to call myself an AmeriCan. 😀