It Will Be My Birthday Eventually

And when it is, I would like a book of photos from the Globe and Mail. No, no, I don’t need the stories. But the photos, man, the photos.

Today, for example, I was going to find a nice, BC-election related photo and put it here to throw some positive energy into the world in an attempt to ward off evil long enough for the forces of good to win. (Because I am a hopeless romantic who refuses to believe it’s over until it’s completely over. I believe in Xanadu, dark chocolate M&Ms, a thing called love AND life after love and the possibility of a not-liberal government, come tomorrow. And I believe ducks have great personalities; better than we could ever imagine.)

But then the G&M won my heart with this shot:

I bet Paul put him up to making that face at video footage of l’il Stevie Harper. I heard Stevie Harper still sleeps on Spiderman sheets. And at the last sleepover at the House? He wet the bed.

OK go vote.

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This Man is a ChampEEEN!

Inspector Kash Heed of the Vancouver Police Department has come right out and told people that cracking down on drug dealers doesn’t make it any harder for people to do drugs. Fucking A, Mr. Heed. I don’t know anything about your study (in news story format, it appears to confirm what I think – and I always like to hear people confirm what I think) but I know that not enough people in your position take this stance against our current method of policing and I hope somebody is listening to you.

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Good Smells & Bad Fellas

Walking home along Smythe St just now, a block past the uber-IGA, the most fantastic smell filled my nostrils. It was simmery beef and wine and rich gravy. I think it was coming from Le Crocodile. A full city block I smelled the wonderful smell. And then it was gone and I smelled traffic once more.

I have angered the hearty she-males. The hearty she-males have been posting to my comments, telling me what a good girl I am and how they would like to share with me their naughty photos and she-male art. But I guess I deleted all their comments instead of allowing them to be posted and today I received comments like, “I laugh at your puny attempt at wit,” and “why don’t you post anything interesting?” Damn, she-males! It hurts me, you know? Not everyone can have the enormo-wit (or other significant parts which might or might not be enormous) of a hearty she-male!

I am she who will not be maled!

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There are Over 20,000 Pores on Your Face! That’s 20,000 Chances to Glow!

I have watched The O.C three times now and each episode has begun with the dark-haired boy coming into the light-haired boy’s room and waking him to talk about relationship issues. Is it a homosexual subtext or is that the way the people wake up in California? That would be nice; a person to wake me with polite conversation about the prom instead of the chattering radio people who lie about the weather.

Tonight George Lucas was on The O.C. He has a head like a large, bearded melon. But! There is a Mr. VaderHead! I mean, a Darth Tater! I mean! Um!

Things I don’t like about the television tonight:

1. A cleaning product called Easy Off BAM! spray.

2. A sink as dirty as the one in the ad that needs the BAM! spray. Don’t you people ever wash your dishes?

3. Since when is toothpaste called a “dental plan”? Who wants vanilla mint toothpaste? Why is Emeril selling it? And again with the Bam?

4. A woman on CNN talking about how smutty the books are for young adults. Apparently they are smuttier than when she was a girl. Her daughter brought one home from the library. Said the woman, “These books…if someone wanted to find out how to have sex? They could find out in one of these books!” Revolutionary. I predict a spate of abstinence-only, promise-ring-wielding heroes and heroines to take the literature world by storm with their inspirational stories involving The Right Decision at the Right Time and plenty of chaste kissing.

5. Oh The Apprentice. How you wound me with the train wreck that is Tana.

I will read some words instead.

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I Love…

…Mike Doughty’s (nee Soul Coughing) blog on a regular basis but I especially love this post . The cell phone lights so pretty in the night and the blissed-out bearded man is a dead ringer for Saint Aardvark. Gonna have to start a “where’s Saint Aardvark?” type game soon, with all the sightings.

I wish Mike Doughty was going to tour here. But at least I can watch him tour there.

Posted in music | 2 Comments