The Cheeseblog

Hey fake-tan lady in the skintight white leather pants and pointy snakeskin boots! Your dog wouldn’t need to wear a goretex jacket lined with polar fleece if you had let it keep its fur.
Also, if it was bigger than an iPod you wouldn’t need to carry it everywhere. Just think – it could walk on a leash and you could smoke your extra-long cigarettes AND drink your Frappumochachingyziggyzig-ah all at the same time!

I really should just walk up a different street.

“It fits much better in the front when it’s on properly than it does when it’s back to front.”
– Saint Aardvark about his t-shirt.

Saint Aardvark’s Dad sent me this story about the Hairy Leg Festival in Whitehorse. Apparently, the “ape-like” woman with the densest, thickest hair will win a razor. I wish I had known in time to book a trip up there. If I start scraping now, my legs might be hairfree by July. Operation Leg Freedom!

On the other hand, McCall, Idaho’s winter festival, rewarded a bushy man with first prize in their hairiest, sexist legs contest, “…proving that the McCall audience likes legs that look as if they belong on a bear.”

Speaking of bears, do you suppose this bear wannabe knows about these ones?

Finally, in Gravenhurst, Ontario THIS WEEKEND, you can enter the Co-ed Beard & Hairy Legs Contest at Lakers Tap & Grill
Cost: Free
Time: 8 p.m.
Rules: All participants will be judged on the following: length of hair; grooming; creativity; legs will be judged from the knees to ankle – NO feet! Winners: Two overall winners with one for each category: beard, hairy legs.

I think we’ve got that one sewn up. After all, Saint Aardvark’s beard is so spectacular, so self-sufficient it’s practically a sovereign state. So see you in Gravenhurst! where children shouldn’t have to know about vandalism.

And now, more Nyquil.

You see, my other post about the shoes of the Finance Minister on Budget Day was titled Shoes! Part 17. but I just counted and it was actually Post #22 that mentions shoes.

Finance minister Ralph Goodale wanted to update his look, says the Globe and Mail, so he bought a stylish square-toed shoe from within which to deliver today’s budget. $250 Ecco shoes. That’s a nice shoe, Ralphy.

If I am ever Finance Minister, which is an “ever” that really means “never” and not in the “never say never” sense, either; I married a man with a mind like a computer for a reason, I will wear these shoes to deliver the budget. Or maybe these ones. And I might just need these ones in advance.

I am not the only one who sees the Peter Griffith/Michael Moore thing. Spanish people see it too.

If you have a sleep debt, isn’t it against the law for collection agents to call you at work?

Thanks a lot, I’m here all week, try the veal.

Saint Aardvark was given an Italian Phrase a Day calendar for Christmas. It was cute at first; Aardy saying, “Buon anno!” (happy new year) the first weekend of the year; Aardy saying, “Mi piace l’inverno!” (I like winter) while the snow came down by the truck load. But then the calendar started getting kind of spooky.
“Uno bicchiere di vino rosso,” (a glass of red wine) it demanded, the morning we went over to my parents’. While we watched movies and ate chips it mumbled petulantly from the desk, “Preferisco andare a pattinare.” (I’d rather go ice skating.) One day it was “Perche tanta fretta?” (what’s the hurry?) and the next it was “Sono caduto” (I fell) and the very next, the calendar said, “Che orrore!” (how awful) but you just knew it was smiling on the inside. I’ve been waiting for “nuotando con i pesci”(swimming with the fishes) to turn up.

Today Aardy called me from home, having left work to soak his stuffed up head in the comfort of his own bathroom and sleep off the cold medicine. (heykidsthat’srealspeedinthereyouknow)

“My calendar? Today?”
“Yes?”
“It says, Sono malado. Do you know what that means?”
“I am sick.”
“How did it KNOW?”
“You should burn it.”
“Right away. I have to detach it from the catt though.”
“The catt?”
“Yeah, it attacked the catt.”
“I wondered what that noise was.”