Something Different

It’s been a while since the blogathon, and I guess it’s only fair to finally put something new up here for the millions and millions of people who read my blog on a daily basis.  I guess working on the blogathon kind of sapped my mind clean of anything that I thought I had to say – I’ve certainly had my fill of talking about cute boys and girls for a while – and I’m kind of turned off of writing about anything right now.  I’m still in mental recovery is what I’m saying, I guess.  But in the intrerest of wiping the dust off my blog, I’m posting something new.  Well, something updated.

Life has taken over my, well, life lately with work, volunteering, and entertaining my two lovely and talented houseguests.  I’m having fun and getting stuff done, but I could really use some downtime.  I kind of wish I had asked for another few days off next week so that I can just lay in bed and do diddlysquat for a while before I go back to my regular routine.  I don’t regret any of my time commitments lately (wait, does work count?), I just know that when I don’t get some downtime I become problematic.  And you wouldn’t like me when I’m problematic.

Okay, that’s all you get.  I can hear a ranga snoring in the other room and it’s reminded me of how very late it is.  I’m visiting a giant mountain named Grouse tomorrow to make baby noises at some bears and admire some lumberjacks, and this requires lots of rest and relaxation.

Good night, lovely people.

Done.

it’s 6am.

I am done.

Sleep now.  Thank you’s later.

god.  so tired.

sleep now.

Catses

Rygel and Mayday are fast asleep – god that looks nice – and I am doing everything within my power to stay awake just a little bit longer.  At this point I have just given up on ideas and coherance and wanting to be an entertaining read.  I am fighting to stay in this thing and there is no fight left to talk about being entertaining.

So what you get is just the stream of conciousness that is my nind right now.  what you get is pure unadulterated Melanie.  rawr.

except I don’t really know who I’m growling at because everyone who lives here has gone uostairs.  what I just typed?  makes no sense.  no one eles lives hee so what am I talking about?

sleep sleep sleep….tht blog idea I rejected is starting to look pretty good right now.

it’s 5am.

it’s 5 o’clock.

5 5 5. time to go to bed soon soon soon.

I keep starting to nod off and then having to shake myself back to reality.  it’s very unpleasantly.

I wonder how the peeps at workspace are doing.  I wonder if any of them are as asleep as I am.

sometimes I don’t want things to change.  sometimes I want them to stay as they are indefinitely.

also I cannot spell.

The Girlfriend List #1: Sherilyn Fenn

Guest Blog: Dear Diary

Dear Diary:

Today I tried to spark a geo-political standoff for giggles.  First I thought of involving Iceland, but really, that guy’s been through enough lately.  I settled on Poland because he struck me as needing a little excitement after his 15 minutes of fame from the Coalition of the Willing had faded.  And remembering that it takes two to tango, Argentina seemed a natural partner; besides, she so much fun in ’82.

So I waited until Poland was standing near Argentina, then I leaned over and pulled her hair, hard.  She turned around, furious, glowering for the puller.  I, being an official UN arbitrator, immediately offered my services: “Argentina, while I think that Poland’s actions in these past moments have been reprehensible, don’t forget his important role in stabilizing NATO.”

Argentina, now acquired of target, spun the remaining degrees to square with the back of Poland’s head.  The front of it was so engaged with his towering, sweet sekacz that he had failed to notice what I had been cooking up.  The attacker spent seconds weighing the severity of her reprisal, then settled for accidentally destroying the external wall of the ballroom addition of the Polish Embassy in Argentina.  While the Argentine Republic fully acknowledges the sovereignty of that Polish soil, certain wrecking balls amongst its citizens were unaware of such sacred boundaries.

Poland, of course, was both confused and suddenly at sea with regards to where the Saturday bingo should be held for his emissaries to that southern land.  But oh, how good is that sekacz!  How did he long not to be distracted from it by the present strife!

At last, he turns to face her, eyes not leaving her still smoulderingness, and leans over to Brazil saying “what’s the deal with Argentina, dude?”

Brazil says nothing.  It sits resplendent in its vast rainforests, its mighty rivers, its respectable iron ore and soybean exports, and it says nothing.

Poland, ponders this, knowing that words indeed are nothing compared to the sheer expressive power of a decent space program and the seventh largest metropolitan area on the planet.  And these silent national possessions speak one thing loudly: “don’t upset the apple cart, don’t rock the boat, and for the love of god don’t disrupt the regional economy – our exports to the Euroregion are sizable!”

Poland nods, wisely, and offers no rebuke.  Argentina, seeing no ill intent in Poland, backs down.

Overall, a major bust.  I think next time I’ll dump a drink on someone’s head.

Heath Johns is the co-founder of the fabulous Urbantastic, and an all-around lovable curmudgeon.  He is possessed of a brilliant mind, an incredibly exciting energy for good ideas, and a very soft pelt of fur.  I enjoy him muchly, and now you can too.

The Girlfriend List #3 & #2

#3 – Joan Osborne & #4 – Lily Allen

you know what, I am running out of things to say.  Really fast.  I like both of these women because they are pretty and when they sing, they kick ass and take no prisoners.  I like their bad attituded and their unapologetic lyrics.  These women are foxy, not just for what they look like, but for what they say.

Now have some pictures.

Pause, take a breath and go for yours.

No, I will not quote song lyrics in the blogathon, I will notnotnot.  I may be frivilous, but I am not that low!

Holy samolly, this is getting harder and harder.  There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but I am really lagging in my thought processes now.  I really had to force myself to get up off the bed and start writing again, just now.  I was able to do it by promising myself I should just blog about right now and didn’t have to think of anything substantial to blog about.  It was the opportunity to complain that did it.  Never underestimate the power of a good complaint.

Not much more to it at this point.  As long as I can stay awake.  Although I’ve been told I talk in my sleep, so maybe it’s possible to blog in my sleep too.  That would be nice.  Exept I’d probably get drool all over the keyboar.  Ah well!  Small price to pay!

Rygel and Mayday look seriously pissed off that I won’t turn off the lights and cuddle with them.  Sorry guys, it’s for charity.

An Open Letter to Translink

Dear Translink:

You’ll have to forgive me, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I’ve been up and writing since 6am, and I am completely exhausted.  Consequently, I may come across a tad more harsh than I wish to, but the fact is that if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the nerve to say it.  So here goes.

Why are you guys such assholes?

Okay, that was a big broad.  Let’s focus, shall we?

The bus drivers.  What the fuck is up with the bus drivers?  I rode transit everywhere when I lived in Toronto, all of my life, and I never had serious difficulties with my balance on the buses, the streetcars, of the subway.  And yet as soon as I moved here and set foot on a bus, I couldn’t stand up straight if my life were depending on it – which it often is, considering the way you guys drive.

I thought it was just me, at first.  I thought I had lost my balance some how and I would figure out how to walk on these crazy buses eventually.  But it’s been almost a year now, and I still have yet to make it to my seat on a moving bus without threatening to land face down on the floor.  What’s more, I’ve expressed my concerns about this to other people and have found that I’m not the only one!  Several people have problems standing up right on your buses on a regular basis.

And, not to seem all paranoid, but sometimes I think that when the bus barrels down the street and I land hard on my ass from the force of being thrown back — sometimes I think I can see the driver stealing a furtive glance in the rear view mirror and chuckling softly to himself.

So seriously, what the fuck?  This is just one of many problems with Translink (should I talk about the slow and infrequent service?  the hostile attitude to those who are new to vancouver transit? how about the complete inability of anyone in charge to think beyond a few years and adequately prepare for the future?), and right now it’s the problem that baffles me the most.  Why on earth do your bus drivers have to be such tremendous assholes?

Are all of the bus drivers in vancouver playing one big game that no one is aware of?  Do you have an intricate points system in place for knocking people around the bus and potentially on to the floor?  Because if this is a competition, you should just tell me.  I like to win, and I’d pro ably take a dive.  But you have to tell me, otherwise I’ll just keep trying to stay on my feet.

Anyway, I think I’ve said enough.  I think you’ve got the message now.  I look forward to hearing from you on this matter as soon as possible so that we can put these issues to bed.

Yours in perpetuity,
Melanie C.

Guest Blog: Zippy, the Finger

Bonjour, mes amis! I am Zippy, zee finger! Formerly I belonged to a zpecial branch of zee police forze that was uzed for tezting zee boyanzy of donuz, but hard timez have cauzed me to looze my jhob wiz zee polize forze, and now I am working 'ere, in Mellony's maison, as your tour guide! Pearhaps we get ztarded, no?

 

 

Zut alors! Zee mezz in zis apar'men iz aztonijjing! I am appalled! Why I am zo zhocked I 'ave momentarily gone blurry!

 

 

Och, 'ow 'orrible! Zis apar'men is an absolutemont dizaztare! Je suis cannot comprehendevous! Zee abomination!

 

Ugh, I guezz I may az well zee whatelze zhe 'az done to zis pla-gasp! Quest que c'est?!

 

I muzt move in for a clozer look -- what iz zis ztunningly beautiful creature? I muzt know more!

 

Allo, mon petit. Je m'appel Zippy. Enchante! I am delighted to meet a madameselle of your obvious ztature 'ere in zis plaze. S'il vous plait, may I come yet clozer?

 

Oh! Oooo! Madameselle flatters moi wiz 'er attentions! You are too too kind, chere. Oo, ow, chere, a little less teeth, non? Zat lazt bite almost broke zee zkin, and we wouldn't want-

 

 

*burp*