The Giant Squid has Not

Cake, Pudding and Cheese are the three alien babies who named themselves after food because food is always popular among humans.  Apex predators aren’t supposed to name themselves after food, that is just wrong, but some of the babies have names like Doofus (“Nobody will be afraid of an alien named Doofus” and Etazonia (which is a variant of États-Uni, so one of the kids named herself after the United States, which is also pretty bizarre.)  They have briefly shown up at a family reunion – just long enough to mention that they’ve been rehearsing, and to sing a three part version of “The Giant Squid has Not” – with animations, sound effects, and stage business – on their way to a gig on the Island.  So I didn’t really write 500 words yesterday, it was 500 less the words I quoted from Brooke’s song, which was just the first verse. Hey, their dad’s a filk fan, and why the hell not.  I’m going to write about what I know, right? bwa ha, ha ha.

Some of the babies were named by their mother and their mother’s current squeeze (Kima and Michel are a very cute couple.)  But when you’re having 175 babies at once some of them get away on you before you can name them.  Hey, it was an accident.  It’s hard to do something right when you’ve never done it before and there’s no precedent.

Jeff, who is a life-saver, got treats yesterday AND got malware off my Mac, which is very very happy making.

Margot jumped up onto the sofa to say hi yesterday and accept skritches when we were watching some tv… She rarely does this when both of us are there.  Buster is usually sitting on my side of the sofa and I must threaten him with the Giant Setting Bum of Allegra which usually means that Jeff rescues him from being crushed milliseconds before he gets mashed into the cushion because he is unconcerned by impending doom.  He is the least ready-to-take-offense-or-be-frightened cat I’ve ever met.

Hell on Wheels continues to entertain, the new Patrick Stewart sitcom (Blunt Talk) is uneven but when funny EXCRUCIATINGLY so, Brent Spiner shows up in a guest slot that will make all the fans go squee, and if you don’t want to watch Walter Blunt /Patrick Stewart down three Ambien when he was expecting three Provigil while sucking back marijuana edibles like an East Burnaby ‘hood rat and washing them down with scotch, you shouldn’t watch it. Jeff and I were both very entertained by the opening shot.  Patrick Stewart doesn’t just have a bald head, he has an ICONIC bald head.

It seems clear that a new generation of comedy writers is taking on the half hour sitcom format and making it new.  Grace and Frankie, the Brink and Blunt Talk (and bunches of others we haven’t seen because we’re not fans of the writers or stars) are sophisticated, funny, humane, well-acted, written and directed and they move like screwball comedies on rails.

Did you know that JFK was accidentally shot by his own security detail?  Many things about the shooting now make much more sense in the light of this new theory.

The Mr. Robot season finale didn’t air because some content was too similar to a shooting in the US which happened during the same news cycle, so they had to can it – we’ll see it later.  And props to the show runners and network for giving it a rest.  The fans will wait.  The Rick and Morty was okay, there were some good laughs and Keith David as a voice actor is always worth the listen.

also.

Almost every single episode of West Wing that we’re watching is pulling its news from CURRENT headlines – and the show’s been off the air almost a decade.  Sometimes the overlaps are so freaky that Jeff just look at each other all o,O like what the HELL man.  Last night it was ‘we’re really close to curing cancer’ and it was so similar to the recent news it was surreal. And people torching AME churches and school shootings, it’s all…. yeah.

Everybody drive safe this weekend.  There may be flash floods and overwhelmed streams and sewers may make for trouble in low lying areas. We’re still going to be on water restrictions.

Mike has returned from South Africa, the single most brutal business trip he’s ever been on, and Jarmo had his last day yesterday at Evilcorp.  Mike took me to supper last night.  Just for future reference, the steak sandwich special for 10 bucks on Thursday night is totally worth it; best beef for the price I’ve had in ages.

 

No I did not write this

Undead Cat
Lyrics by Rob Wynne
(TTTO: “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel)

Undead cat
It’s not living now, and that is that
But somehow it still can move around
No you’re never gonna keep it down

You’d better run from the undead cat
You won’t win if you get in a spat
And if the sight of it should give you pause
You’re gonna die by its undead claws
And drooling maw

And when you see where it is
It’s too lay-ay-ate
And when you wake up
You make up its play-ay-ate

You’ll see that you now are dead
Your poor sod
You’ve been fed to the undead cat
And your flesh has made it sleek and fat
And when it’s tired of its catnip toys
It will go hunting for more girls and boys
Because they’re moist

Undead cat
In Spanish, viviendo muerto gat-
O, maybe someday when you’re on your own
Out in the woods, you hear a yowling moan
Won’t make it home

And where it’s stalking
You’ll find you’re its prey-ay-ay
There’s no use talking
Unless it’s to pray-ay-ay

You’ll see that you now are dead
Your poor sod
You’d should’ve fled from the undead cat
You won’t win if you get in a spat
And if the sight of it should give you pause
You’re gonna die by its undead claws
And drooling maw

Are you Mary?

Instant mini housefilk at Cindy’s place; me and Paul and Cindy and Miss K for appreciative audience. SUCH A GOOD TIME. Also we gave blood then we ate Indian food and went to the Bloedel Conservatory and I got into a discussion with a parrot and then nearly passed out from being down a pint and Paul sat with me for the 20 minutes it took for me to recover… all this happened before the housefilk. Feeling fine now but tired obvs, it was quite a day. Funny story… go to give blood at the Oak St Clinic, gal at reception asks “are you Mary?” which I hear as Are You Married, and I say no we’re divorced. So now on top of everything else I need to get my hearing checked.

 

Falling and dying (in Dark Souls II) 4 of 50

Falling and dying x 3
In Dark Souls II

I've only ever kibitzed
when my brother played this game
The NPCs pee on his leg
and call it gentle rain
And soon enough the gravity
will trigger this refrain

Falling and dying x 3
In Dark Souls II

He stepped into a box one day
and he emerged a girl
He thought he'd give the mincing walk
they gave her a short whirl
But really he would rather be
an armoured flying squirrel!

Falling and dying x 3
In Dark Souls II

bridge:
Typos in the weapons descriptions
No way to pause it to pee
Boss fights that come out of nowhere
You'd better be ready to be...

Falling and dying x 3
In Dark Souls II

As fickle as the weather 
in Vancouver and as nice
Merchants you need badly who
will only show up twice
They overseason everything 
but only use one spice

Falling and dying x 3
In Dark Souls II

Spoken... Man I'm sure glad I'm not the one who has to keep the torches lit in that place...

Shut up and witness

I have filked a Mary Chapin Carpenter tune

 

Don’t mean to say that I am an ally, don’t mean to get ahead of where we are
Don’t mean to act a little racist around you, I’m just a little racist in my heart ’cause
It’s been awhile since I felt this feeling that everything in the news gives me
It’s been so long since somebody whispered
Shut up and witness

Didn’t expect to be in this position, didn’t expect to have to rise above
My reputation as a social critic, I’ve been a lazy lady about one love but
Oh the horror and the feelings that the  latest shooting  gives me
It’s been too long since yelled in my good ear
Shut up and witness

My filking friend Andrew Ross wrote this

all such things as copyright belong to him  If you know the song, you’ll be howling by the end, and I think it’s a masterpiece

SONG-O-MATIC #15-13
Tune = Taylor Swift, “Shake it Off”
Definitely doing this one at Sasquan. Definitely needs a music video.

I don’t know how to play
I read my life away
That’s what people say, uh-huh
And then they look away

What I put on display
May rub them the wrong way
Well, be that as it may, uh-huh
I’m doing it my way

I’m animating, I’m not hibernating
It’s so fascinating, I’m at the World Con, and it’s gonna be alright

‘Cause the panelists will speak, speak, speak, speak, speak, speak
And the filkers gonna shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek
We’re gonna have all week, week, week, week, week, week, week
To geek it up, geek it up!
The cosplay will be chic, chic, chic, chic, chic, chic
And steampunk is antique, tique, tique, tique, tique, tique
It’s all in the technique, nique, nique, nique, nique, nique
We’ll geek it up, we’ll geek it up!

Sci-fi and fantasy
They set my spirit free
And that’s what they don’t see, uh-huh
They don’t see why I squee

The stories that they show (stories that they show)
That make my spirit grow (make my spirit grow)
That’s what they don’t know, uh-huh
They don’t know where I go

But I’m just nerdy, literate and wordy
Filking till 4:30, we’re at the World Con and it’s gonna be alright

‘Cause creators will create, rate, rate, rate, rate, rate
The animators animate, mate, mate, mate
The artists gonna illustrate, strate, strate, strate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
The writers will narrate, rate, rate, rate, rate
Their tales exhilarate, rate, rate, rate
I wanna hyperventilate, late, late, late
And geek it up! And geek it up!

I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!
I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!

Hey-hey-hey, just think while you’ve been getting down and posting comment after comment about that rotten old Hugo ballot, you could be getting down to the biggest geek party we got going!

My best friend’s moping at my door
Going, “Oh my God, the puppies piddled on the floor!”
I just took her to explore with the fella dressed like Thor
And with a rebel yell, we cried More, More, More!

‘Cause the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Don’t matter what they nominate, nate, nate, nate
Just No-Award the slate, slate, slate, slate, slate, slate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
And daleks will exterminate, nate, nate, nate
And succubi will undulate, late, late, late
And I for one can’t wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait
To geek it up! To geek it up!

We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!
We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!

My creative commons stuff does not apply to the above noted song, this parody belongs to Andrew Ross.

Practice day

I couldn’t write, I couldn’t work on the church project, I was swithering like a’ idiot, so I said it’s a Mental Health Day and when Paul called and said, “Let’s give blood” I said “What a great idea but I can’t stand it for today.  I’m coming to your place with my mandolin on my back.” So I walked over there and it started to rain just as I got to the stairs and he left the front door open and I went up the back stairs so he had to go lock his front door and we had a good laugh about that and then I played Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked for him, which he hadn’t heard before.  I left him the lyrics and chords, and played it enough times that he started to work up some guitar and I started to practically bleed out my finger ends. It hurts to type today, bwa ha ha. Then we played our way though a couple of Oscar Brand air force tunes, I played my way through the In the Lineup for the Ferry song (I had played it through once and this time he could play along) and then we dawdled and noodled and messed about for a couple of hours, him marvelling that I FINALLY have the intonation problems sorted out on Otto.  He’s been out of sorts since GAFilk and he’s now perfect (gotdamn that floating bridge!!! it’s the one thing Peter C. did when he was making Otto that I hate) and if anything he’s louder and more resonant than before. Then I played Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked AGAIN a couple of times because I’ve shifted how I play it a bit, and was now comfortable enough that a) the tune as sung was actually sounding a bit more like the recording and b) the chord structure still doesn’t sound like the recording but it’s better.  Then I told him that if we ever play it when Katie and Keith are present for music night they will be singing along with the choruses – Katie and I had it as part of the ‘get going’ music mix for the café – and Keith knows it from the opening titles of Gearbox’s video game Borderlands, which we used to rewatch all the time because it’s like the best opening title in gaming.

Then he fed me lentil soup and beer and crusty white bread toasted with butter and a Non Refrigerated apple – the last apple he served for me nearly made my back teeth pick up their skirts and flee, it was so durn cold – but I admired his new fridge, for a net cost of $175 he got a bottom drawer freezer Kenmore with the door hung the right way although he did nearly spavin himself getting it up the stairs and he now has to replace all the brand new nosing for the stair treads ’cause they all have divots in them now.  (It looks like an alien dragged its nasty bits up to the first floor.) Apparently Keith hated the old fridge and did handsprings when he saw the new one and realized that HE wasn’t going to get roped into hauling it up the stairs (his job is very physical) or getting the old one out.

I told him about Replens, as Lady Miss Banjola had told me about it, and how along with eye drops the advice given ensured my life was a better place, except it’s FRIKKIN expensive and could he find eight packs in the States for me and he said he’d look.

We discussed putting together a book of family stories from his side of the family, while his mum’s still with us (doing fine apparently), as inspired by mOm’s numerous efforts, talked about some flying he’d been doing (he’s enjoying the soaring in Enumclaw, and of course I crack up every time I hear that name, for all the wrong reasons.) We talked about Keith and Katie and their marvellous young lives and challenges, the retirement party he went to at the Shark Club (where, apparently, the last pleasant drink servers in the lower Mainland have taken refuge) and the highly excellent noms he ingested there.

Then he took me for a quick shop including healthy food and unhealthy noms and beer AND helped me haul in groceries.  If there is a nicer ex in the whole universe then whoever has him / her isn’t publicly bragging.

Then at home we watched a couple of titles from the second season of POI and I turned the steak into itty pieces and cooked it fast with mushrooms and lots of onions and chili seasoning, not too much, and so to bed, where I got 2.2 hours on the cpap and am now ready to start another day, and maybe get a little more done.  Maybe.  Not a betting woman normally.

Housefilk

Attending, Alex and Alex and Katie and Paul and Keith and Mike and Cindy and Tom and Peggy and we sang and played and laughed and ate and it was most excellent.

Thank you Paul for hosting.

Happy sigh.

No hours, 440 words.

Today I’m cooking up something for the circle dinner tonight and maybe going to Mike Beach this afternoon.

Miles does it again

My filking buddy Andrew, who goes by Miles Vorkosigan on facebook, read or pretended to read a book that would allow you to write better horror.

The book made him facepalm.  So he decided to write a trashy horror novelists description of a facepalm, and then got carried away and did multiple versions.  I hope you enjoy this cascade of awful as much as I did, because I laughed until I sprang a rib.  Since I didn’t write this, copyright belongs to Andrew.

 

ABOMINATIONS OF HUMAN ENDEAVOUR: Before reading this book: “Face, meet palm.”

After reading this book:

My palm described a perfect arc as it rushed towards my face.

There was an audible CLAP as my palm struck my face.

I felt a sharp stab of pain, every bit as intense as the emotional pain I felt from reading this link, as I struck my own face with my palm.

Before my face even had time to brace for the impact, my palm was upon it.

My palm swished through the air and landed with a dull, sickening thud across my face.

It was like that legendary baseball game back in ’42, when Babe Ruth hit the winning run right out of the park–only instead of the final, inexorable crack of the bat hitting the ball, it was the final, inexorable crack of my palm meeting my face.

My palm struck my face with all the impact of a Mack Semi, having left Chicago heading east at 2:pm at 60 mph, colliding with a freight train that left Cleveland heading west at 1 p.m. travelling 80 mph.

Out there, in the darkness, something *watched* me facepalm myself.

My palm was out there at the end of my arm, mocking me. “Mi-yuls”, it seemed to say, “Here I am, Mi-yuls! And I’m coming to GET you! You know you lose control over me when you read something breathtakingly stupid enough—you always do. And now it’s party time. I’m coming for your face. And I’m hard. Hard and calloused from that workout this morning. And sweaty too. Get ready, Mi-yuls, for the mother of all facepalms!”

Once again…. this is Andrew’s, but really I think it belongs to the world.

Some progress

Used CPAP last night.  The Liposic allowed me to open my eyes without creaking this morning (still dreffle dry, but not the :spend twenty minutes thinking sad thoughts to get my tear ducts to work so I can open them: dry of yesterday morning, which was a horrid start to the day). My new routine is Liposic at night since I can’t see a ****ing thing when I put that stuff in, and Systane in the morning since it is much runnier.  I am also going to start supplementing with evening primrose oil again and start monitoring how many hours a day I am at the computer and watching tv, which will probably horrify me into a neurasthenic stupor.  Also I have to drink water or tea instead of coffee, GRRR.

The congregational dinner was absolutely lovely and I sang Tapioca, but my almost new medical problem (self-diagnosed from symptoms, so YMMV, and almost certainly triggered by my slip and fall in the shop although the broken shoulder got all the attention) fixed it so that by the end I was barely able to walk, drive or lift anything, which given that I was on the cleanup crew didn’t halp.  I am good for about 2.5 k of walking before the pain is so bad I start to waddle (which is characteristic) and all the strength goes out of my legs, (ditto). When I got out of bed this morning all the bones in that region of my body grated and popped like a ship’s rigging in bad weather.

As this is almost certainly the consequence of not having proper foot support and wearing the same shoes day in and day out (which Chipper has warned me about many times) I need to drag myself off to the doc and get a scrip (again, I lost the first one) for  foot support and to quit walking barefoot in the house, since anytime I put my foot to the floor without arch support I’m just being an idiot and making it worse.

Last night as I was driving home a passenger jet came so close to the ground as I was driving along 10th between 8th and 6th that I nearly drove off the road, and then it BANKED like it was heading into the ground.  I have no problem with jets flying over my house as long as they are 1000 ft AGL like they are supposed to be, but that close scared the bejabbers outta me.

Chili and buns for today’s meal has been prepared or purchased.  I’ll head over to Planet Bachelor at some point after church.

So tired… all I can think of is coffee, and I shouldn’t.

Why won’t you die? (It’s a song, don’t worry)

Here it is…

Also, I thought I’d lost a different SG1 song, and it turns out I haven’t.  I’ll have to construct a new tune for the verse, but the chorus (the most important part of the song) is still firmly lodged.

Yesterday was an editing as opposed to writing day, but I still ploughed through some stuff on section 2, mostly in the “minions find the hologrammic skeleton” section.  I also did laundry, cleaned up cat puke and cat litter, baked a banana cake, ran the dishwasher, talked to a bunch of my friends on the phone and drank far too much coffee.

I think it’s possible I had the CPAP on for as much as four hours last night.  I get very dry eyes and it’s hard to swallow.

Buster is just as affectionate as ever.  Apparently he enjoys my skritches.  He has learned how to scoot his ass across the floor to scratch his bum where the surgery was, since it probably still itches like fury, and whenever he does it I burst out laughing, for never did I see a cat so locomote.  He can get up quite a turn of speed.  When he still had the cone on he was dreaming about cleaning himself in his sleep.  (Paw twitching, tongue coming dreamily out in licking motions).  He has finally policed himse’f up to the point he no longer smells, which is probably a relief to everyone.  He’s still pestering Margot, and yet they sleep in the same room, every day.

I will be getting chicken and chili ingredaments today for my various activities today – Jeff got home from various work related stuff so late I didn’t feel like going out.  Kids are going to Victoria, yay!  My mOm is kvelling herself into a little groove there, I’m quite sure.

Vampire, pass by

Paul and I gave blood yesterday. (I drained in 8 minutes, a new personal record!) He was joshing with the phlebotomist and she turns to me and asks if she can trust him and I said, blandly, “He’s my ex so I’m the wrong person to ask” which triggered much hilarity. Paul clots so fast he literally does not have to put pressure on the sticking point, and the vampire didn’t believe him. I bruise like crazy so I follow the instructions.
 
I know it sounds kinda weird but I think of giving blood as a kind of communion; it connects me to strangers who need my help, and it connects me with John, who gave a lot of blood over the course of his life, and it connects me to the rest of my family; Katie and I and Paul and Keith all give blood when so able, and mOm gave gallons when she was a nurse.
I drove both ways.  Traffic was good, traffic was good.
Around 7 I felt like all the air had been let out of my tires so I crashed; looks like I got a solid 8 hours of sleep.
Sue and I had a lovely (and for me, hobbitly) breakfast at Ricky’s on Lougheed Coquitlam yesterday.  We noted a side room which might work okay for pub night although there’s no good transit close by; she’s going to advise the minister.
Just learned that South Fraser is being kicked out of their home.  I light a candle for them finding space cheap, fast, painlessly.
I have a song that the Conflikt folks really like in this year’s songbook, so even if I can’t go (money…) I will still represent.
Archer’s back!

At last a deadline

I am going to try to complete a couple of songs in Songwriter so I can export them as PDFs and get them into the Conflikt song book.

Much as it pains me to say it, I can’t afford to make trips to the US and otherwise spend the income I have, so I am going to go to $15 worth of church event as opposed to the $500 con.  Yes – I could spend less but I don’t like going to a convention if I have to bunk in with anyone else for the usual reasons, like my privacy requirements now I’m no longer a live in parent are rather absurdly high.

So I’ll be sending the songs along instead.  I’ll send Gateway and Dishing with Joyce, since Fred Pohl’s stuff is going to be commercialized over the next couple of years (I believe it’s going to be a tv show, which would likely work fine, helmed correctly) and Buffy never stops being popular with certain crowds and the Scoobie gang have dozens of songs and Joyce not so much. I find it amusing that I have repurposed a song with was a song about a crush on a coworker into a filk, but one of the great appeals of filk is how it mashes things together into a great media pulp.

Saw Mike yesterday, and he popped by later, after he fed me a light supper at the Oliver Twist, and I will be seeing Sue for brekkie this morning to feast her for her birthday.  She is so wonderful, I am sure we will have a lovely earflapping. For she is the Great She-Elephant, and I am her dear chum.

Okay, enough demonstrating that I left the house yesterday (I did twice, and with all the cat commotion with Buster and his collar Jeff did three times) and I have friends, I gots work to do, coffee to make and songs about Giant Squids (words) (music) to listen to for its inspirational effect on my opus.