Today I read on Making Light a gloss on, “What if my problem isn’t horses or zebras but COCONUTS!” which is the kind of multiply memetic comment makes tiny aweggabrain go A-squeeing.
Here’s the post that comment followed on. Some language, but dayyum it be amusing.
The dishwasher is running, the bathtub is shiny, and now I’m going to push some crud into corners until it’s time to go pick up my Mac, which went into the shop a couple of days ago, and which, on top of Otto being in the crankenhouse, is entirely crazymaking.
I didn’t know that the Germans bombed London from Zeppelins during the Great War. There was a very cool program about it on the PVR and I’m hoping Rob, who is a bit of a Zeppelin fan, comes to watch it before we delete it.
I have slowly started making progress towards winding up the paperwork side of the cafe. I am no longer feeling mired in anxiety and anger and despair; now it’s more like, “Welp, gotta fix all this if I’m going to blow all my retirement money on world travel!” And before the folks become apoplectic, I am hoping just to go to Germany in the spring and the UK in the early fall, and maybe a couple of other places on the continent at other times. Also I have to update my will, and fix up my burial details, and put together a master plan for if I check out untimely. Hopefully I’ll get to that shit faster than John did. ha ha. not.
Why is BC so expensive?
Why is the Yukon so sparsely populated?
Why are the Northwest Territories not a province?
Why is Alberta so cold?
Why is Nunavut so unpopulated?
Why is Saskatchewan so cold?
Why is Manitoba so cold?
Why is Ontario insurance so expensive?
Why is Quebec so corrupt?
Why is New Brunswick so poor?
Why is Nova Scotia so poor?
Why is PEI or Prince Edward Island not part of this meme at all as far as I can tell?
Why is Newfoundland so foggy?
Now that was amusing. Your google search results may vary….
Honestly, he had to die sometime, but I’m sadder about his death than I am for many others who have passed recently.
Tzena, Tzena, Tzena
Last night I dreamed I went to the house of the man of my dreams and met all 8 of his roommates, pronounced the mess in his house at least 85 percent worse than mine, was introduced to an extremely large and disturbing mechanized sex toy, the configuration of which was like nothing I had ever heard of or imagined, (pleasant anticipation of adult entertainment was replaced with a mounting sense of unease and horror), after which I was given access to a passageway which gave on to my own room at this house, which was empty except for the dresser and the bed, and which disgorged a live rat-kinkajou cross *I went to the internet, and yes, it DID look like a cross between a rat and a kinkajou, I was right the first time* and a dead hummingbird, which attracted Miss Margot’s immediate attention and which freaked me out in the dream no end because it’s one of the symbols of my parents’ happy household and it was obviously symbolic because as disgusting as my housekeeping is it does not admit of dead chordates. We posted a lost notice for the critter, since it was obviously not mine, had a very large nude cuddle pile, including with roommates to whom I had not actually been introduced, after which I discovered that all my bags were missing and I was not actually expected to ever get dressed again. Consciousness beckoned and I returned to it with relief.
I had a good time at Conflikt. The end. Okay, more details.
Princess Bob taught me to crochet. Cindy fed me chocolate. Peggy brought me tea. The Tinneys, all three of them in diverse ways, completely and totally kicked ass. I got a Darth Vader plushie blanket and a couple of CDs and a couple of pieces of jewelry. I wrote 850 words on my novel. I fed Lemming steak. I collected many hugs. The world is a happy place full of nice people.
Tomorrow, I have to go back to reality and start making lists and getting rid of my mountain of crap.
I am so happy to be going, and very happy to be getting a lift with Tom and Peggy.
I’m just finishing up the packing. I probably won’t be posting that much. I’ll be back Sunday, inshallah.
I am so looking forward to it, but no Otto, sadly.
Yes, I started watching it. Yes, I’m a fool.
This is a pic of two nursing cats who are ‘coparenting’. It is very adorable.
Thank you mOm for the books that came back with Jeff.
Margot wandered around the house making funny noises a lot while Jeff was gone.
I think I need to go see an eye doctor. My right eye has underproduced tears since I was in my teens, but my eye is so dry now that I’m in pain a good chunk of the time – enough pain that I’m not noticing my back or my shoulder. I think today I may get an eyepatch, just to give my eye a break.
This is a simply adorable series of family pictures.
Insanity on a board. The flailing wipeouts, the chats with the cops, the yelling bystanders.
Took Otto into the shop today – Took like 6 hours to get across town, etc. I will be instrumentless for Conflikt, I guess. Or maybe I just won’t go? I can’t really afford it. It’ll cost about 250 bucks for the fix, and he needs to be entirely refretted.
It doesn’t mean anything. But last night Lady Miss Banjola grabbed an overly officious and magically short security guard by the ear and lectured him, which caused him to GO ROGUE and investigate her grandparents’ garage. Lady Miss B appeared and berated him some more, this time with crunchy swears and him running away to his SUV. Before I could learn what was going on, the scene shifted indoors to a Las Vegas style hotel, and she ditched me at what I assumed was a science fiction convention, because Seanan McGuire shimmied by in a dress of such surpassing sparkle and slinkiness that I was forced to rub my eyes. I wish I hadn’t, when I removed my fists from my eyes, she was gone, and I was sitting at a table of quite possibly the strangest and least competent MARKETING people I had ever seen. Not even beer could save me; I woke up.
On another subject, Margot slept with me at least until I woke up two hours ago with my eyes streaming and my throat sore. Yes, the con crud hath landed.
A man left a loaded rifle under his bed, and his four year old granddaughter found it and shot and killed a four year old boy, her cousin.
I’m sorry for all the close relatives and that little child most of all.
Leaving a loaded gun on the floor with children present is criminal negligence and the man responsible will have to live with being personally responsible for the death of his kin for the rest of his life. Having a loaded gun in a neighborhood with 1 – 2 hour police response times is not criminal negligence. Poor people don’t often get to choose where they live.
If the NRA was running kickstarters to buy gun safety equipment for poor people I’d believe their responsible gun ownership bs. As it is they have a constituency – the gun manufacturers – whom they serve with every bit of suction they can muster.
I think it’s the way they combine clumsiness and grace and those big liquid eyes and their dog-like curiosity. Here’s a video.
I would like to have a weekend recording songs with my filking buddies.
1. Ask a bunch of my favourite filkers if they would set aside a weekend to record. Anybody who didn’t want to come didn’t have to, but it would be best for 10-12 people so there’s enough tracks for an album.
2. Rent a location (cause you have to do it in advance).
3. Invite a filk friendly sound engineer or two (for pay OF COURSE).
4. Prior to the recording date we each get to pick one of our own tunes and make a scratch track in the right key and tempo. We forward it to everybody from the group we want to contribute to the song and request that they either work up an instrumental, or a harmony, or whatever is mutually agreeable.
5. We pick the songs to be recorded out of a hat and record them in that order.
6. Occasionally we stop for food and drink and sleep.
7. Final say for what the song sounds like is between the engineer and the songwriter.
8. We release the album. Profits if any (sing bwa ha ha!) go to wherever we designate at the time the project commences.
9. We end up with music that’s like the best ever filk circle and a wide variety of textures, styles and subjects.
Happy sigh. Damn wooooolf mooooon, I can’t sleep.
One is called Again? AGAIN! and the other is called Bug Report. I sang them into my phone to prevent memory loss…
OMG. Best phone interview ever. I said (Coles Notes Version), “I’m 55, if you’re looking for a soignée young thing with career aspirations, don’t even call me in; if you want somebody who can be den mom to a bunch of engineers at a start up, deal with four things at once and stay cool on the phone, do at least bring me in.” Nothing may come of it, I don’t care, it was very positive and I did enjoy speaking with her; she sounded warm and intelligent on the phone, as I judge these things.