Signs of the Coming Revolution, Which Will Start With One Duck Quacking

See, if you press the “next blog” button you get things like this Fantasy Blog and everything is in CAPS AND with many EXCLAMATIONS!!! and it’s pink, too. I want a fantasy blog!

*Squint* This is my Fantasy Blog! Pinkpinkpinkpinkpink. *Squint* PIGTAILS! TEXT MSG! LOL!

I don’t think it worked.

Anyway, so that piece of random joy is why I am overjoyed but also somewhat saddened that there is now The Gentle Voyeur, where Jojo and Mr. Lopez press the “next blog” button for us and when they find the good stuff they tell us all about it.

Number One, overjoyed because Jojo and Mr. Lopez must have more time than me – and how nice for them – or sleep way, super less so as to find all the best, weirdest next-blog blogs and they should totally use that time so I can use my time to do other things like eat antibiotics and chips.

Number Two, saddened because now, will I still press Next Blog or will I just go one stop-shopping to the Gentle Voyeur? It’s like Pit Stop Mart (a real store!) and WalMart. Only one of those stores sells tires and it ain’t the one you’d think.

The internet is so well organized.

The GATS is totally onto me. Since he came back from Christmas break, his living room blinds have been closed. I am still able to see his receding hairline making a sandwich in his kitchen and I can watch him watch TV from the kitchen while he waits for the bread to toast but as for the giant TV, all I can see is the flick-flick-bluelight-yellowlight from behind the venetians.

Did he google for “giant TV across the street” and find th’cheeseblog? What up, GATS? Why so secretive?

Maybe he got pay-per-view porn for Christmas. Pay-per-view-pony-porn ack ack ack
PINK PINKPINK PINKP INK … hellokitty full of grace …

Last week I made up this word: Equigendrous. It came to be at work as my mates & I puzzled over a name for a non-anatomically correct baby doll. Its name is Robyn. Yes, just like Donald Trump’s receptionist. Pictures one day, if you’re lucky.

Tonight I tried to stomach some 6 o’clock news with my supper. I switched between CBC (for the cred), Global (to try to catch Tony Parsons smiling) and occasionally City, (for the botox and the strong, funky eau d’trash). I stuck with CBC out of habit for the duration of the leading story: tsunami relief. When the camera returned to Ian Hanomansing, he said, quite apologetically, “Well, as has been the case over the last few weeks, any other news seems somewhat trivial but we do have other news to present to you tonight. So here’s our next story…”

(I think it was California mudslides or something. Something equally newsworthy where people were eating their snacks and something wrecked them. Not, like, Ben and Jen getting back together or anything.)

And I was all: Shit yeah, man. You are the newsdude. You are supposed to tell us ALL the news, not just the news most people want/don’t want-but-can’t-help-looking to see. If that means tearing us away from tsunami relief to hear about mad cow, politics and the snow forecast, so be it. Don’t apologize. If I wanted to watch an hour of tsunami relief, I’m sure I could find something somewhere.

It was weird; it felt jarring, off script, like he was making excuses, anticipating letters and calls, maybe? – “how dare you go to another news story when those people are still suffering?” Hey, here’s news: people suffer all day and all night long all over the world and before a month ago it never bothered you to end one news story about suffering and move to the next. You think if you stop talking tsunami, I’ll change the channel? Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m doing with this whole TV thing.

PINK PINK PINK! Faaaaantassssy blogggggg.

I think I need new categories. None of this is ever really about cheese or not about cheese (except by default). I didn’t eat any cheese today. There. Now this is a “sort of fromage” entry.