So I was looking for a picture of my cat, Ek, on the internet. She's a really dumb and stubby little Maine Coon cat who drools when you pat her. I figured out this concept, you see: They tell me there is lots of stuff on the internet, and hell, by this point you can find just about anything, so why not my cat? Armed with all the information I could find (the name of my cat) I dove into The Online(tm). The first picture [ek-1.jpg]
I found didn't exactly look like her but I suppose it could be a cross section of some cancer tumor in her pancreas or something.. Except that there is hebrew all over it and I know she isn't jewish so I'm awful suspcious about that one. I also found this one [Ek.GIF]
which definitely made me wonder who was confusing Evil Knievel with my cat. I immediately sent an email off to the purveyor of the website informing them that they were sadly mistaken. Perhaps it was a humour site and I was missing the point. Nonplussed with results so far, I gave it one last go. The last picture [ek.gif]
I found was the most satisfying.. This is clearly my cat. Having successfully completed my proof-of-concept I can state clearly and without a doubt in the world that I'm always right.
Taxes are a wonderful thing... if you happen to get them back. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd much rather them never take my money at all... but, if it's the way things have to be then it's the way things have to be. This year, however, being the laze I am I only worked for half a year. This is an added bonus when filing taxes cause, go figure, I didn't make as much as they thought I would (had I worked a whole year). Therefore I'm getting it all back, baby. Next up: the State. We'll see how I fair there later.
Notes: Did you move?? Then claim some moving expenses you ninny! Did you go to school and are you claiming as an independant?? Then claim tuition expenses you ninny! Don't let them take you for more than they ought to.
Well, it's been a few since I've mentioned the three 'logs I read. I want to take this time to go a little farther into the deep than I normally do.
has some really neat stuff right now. Besides some interesting user commentary/discussion over the merits and demerits of wait staff wages, tipping and the cost that moral decadence brings to bear on the lowly waitress there is also a light and fun wheels-on-the-bus-go-round-and-round piece on her university shuttlebus. She could not, however, avoid the temptation to muck around in the mudpuddle of anti-valentine sentiment; it is a weblog, what do you expect?
keeps promising interesting photos but has still not delivered recently. That's alright because there are still some interesting tidbits to be picked off the local music scene tree. Oh, and look at that! Another weblogger hateful of the American pastime that is corporatized holidays. She also makes some interesting observations about our northern neighbours and dear 'ol Montreal like how the change makes a slightly different sound in your pocket and how there is a generally anti-iced-coffee stance up there. The part that strikes me as odd is the bit about the Canadian border guards being more of a hassle than the Americans. Being a dual-citizen I've jumped the fence plenty of times and for sure the Americans are swell but the Canadians are perhaps more so. When I had no proof of citizenship up there and I was traveling through to University they asked for my student visa: "Well, actually, I don't have one. I'm Canadian, you see, I just don't have proof.".. "Well, we'll just have to believe you I guess.." ..... "Oh, and the bomb in the back? It's not what you think.. No worries."
Has lots of work stuff lately and some more glimpses into the asian-american's "world of hell" (i.e. home). Some fun-facts about what makes a parade a Chinese New Years parade and also some obligatory 'gays and figure-skating' comments. Even more interesting is one of the many links that has found it's way over from someone else's site: Congress and it's love of popcorn
. I wonder if they bought Orville a valentine's card?
The other day I had an anxiety attack, I think. I'm not sure.. it's not like I have them every day so I guess I wouldn't know one if it came up and introduced itself... but.. this one was quite impolite and kept starring at me from across the room. Everytime I looked over it refused to make eye contact with me and it would pretend it didn't know me. When I got up to go to the bathroom I think it was talking about me to it's friend, but I can't be sure...
hell if I know.
I need to take a mammoth shit. It's sizely enough that I can feel it poking and proding at various spots within my innards as if it did in fact have large ivory tusks. It's wooly fur makes my bum itch.
The mammoth deuce had mexican for dinner and now it's huffing and puffing and trying to blow my back door down, if you get my drift.. time to dangle, old gal.
for all you spammers lurking, searching, crawling all over my skin like so many spiders...
from a recent nytimes article about an Israeli bus driver, Mr. Drei, who foiled a suicide bomber-commuter:
"Mr. Drei pushed the stranger back off the bus, then, as the bus pulled away, the man exploded."
I guess the suicide wasn't so much foiled, but he never made it to work.. er.. pun. nope.
Orgasms are like fool's gold.
You want it, you like it, it's shiny and pretty. You're pretty sure it's worth something, too. You work towards it with every fiber of your being. When you get that special someone in bed you work her over real quick and go in for the kill.. Your instincts insist upon it. But it's not pretty; it's not worth anything. It's anticlimactic in the ultimate sense of the word. You get there and discover it's a dead-end road. It's like a box of chocolates with one piece too few; like running a marathon in two seconds: none of the satisfaction of having stuck to it... no pain for pleasure. I mean hell, it only took two seconds. Where is the multiple orgasm for the rest of us? It's like middle class: all the promise but none of the follow through. Taxes up the ass and not even a reach-around. White picket fences be damned! Middle America, we are poor.
"Yesterday was Presidents' Day. I was driving down to Kennebunk Saturday night to fiddle at a dance, winding along some inky black ribbon of Route 1, when from behind some pines I noticed a ghostly blue illumination. As I neared the source of the glow I realized (now in its full blaze) that it was actually a pine tree, maybe twenty feet tall, full and fat, swathed in row after sagging row of Christmas lights: the top strands making a sea of blue with occasional white flourishes, presumably stars, and the bottom strands carefully hung to form columns of red and white, alternating. Mike, I've never seen anything like this. It was garish. It was grotesque. It was beautiful. Kind of like half-time at the super-bowl: you couldn't believe the excess, and you couldn't look away. Poor little humble tree, a mere vehicle for a grander sentiment. It stays in my mind.
I believe I'm having an anxiety attack.
There is the slightest feeling of nausea, but I'm certain it's a mental manifestation. My muscles are shaky in that post-workout way that you find compeling and enjoyable when indeed it is after a work-out, but not now. There are vague situations; tiny stories running through the back of my head up against the rear of my skull so I can't see them. My brain gets in the way. The little vermin race around and tease me as I catch glimpses of their mischief. One belies that there is a deadline, an urgency, something needs to be done! Quick, this is of the utmost importance. Another appears and then vanishes, spreading misrepresentations of my moral character. No, that's not me! Don't tell them that! Who do you think you are? They taunt me from right out of reach. Nothing is clear, the urgency is unfounded. Who is feeding these beasts? Is it the coffee? The lack of sleep? Perhaps the boxer-briefs, my boy's hate constriction... They need to be free.
As if "AC-130 Spectre gunship" doesn't sound evil enough, doesn't sound like a giant death sausage hanging in the air... waiting... just waiting for the first step you make outside of your triple-plated 100ft. thick concrete bunker so you can take a piss... Well, now the giant sausage will be waiting, hovering in anticipation, with a giant laser
.. Able to play all your britney spears albums from a distance of 6 miles overhead. Oh, and it can fry you to a crisp too.
The sound of elected honey, cheered on by the masses, oh what a sweet sound.
I don't care.
Sometimes it's quite upsetting how much so.
, and little.yellow.different
all have some quality updates over the last few days, although I note there is no whozzaahs for the Pats
who managed to end a 41 year championless streak on sunday. It seems somewhat appropriate that it should be done in the most unconventional of ways, too, with the game being the first one played in a very long time (if ever?) in February.
On another note the great continental road trip by Mickey and Chris is complete with stops along the way including Phoenix, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Memphis. The car ('89 hatchback Tercel) made it despite a jerry-rigged exhaust, no inspection sticker, and lots of bondo.