frighteningly regular

This thing is becoming a habit again (ack). I think it's time to take up smoking (or compulsive sticking things up my nose). At least these are semi-productive. I'm inclined to behave in a rather childlike manner these days, partially for lack of brain capacity, and partially because my partner-in-crime seems to be growing up quite fast. I may soon be living with a small business owner. Yikes!


Arrested Development quote of the day:
"My gut is telling me no. But my gut is also very hungry" -- Gob Bluth

(seriously people, if you haven't seen this, you must -- it's genius)

timid as a mouse

Whoever said mice were shy was full of shit (or crack). A mouse just walked out from under my fridge and stared me up as I was sitting at my computer. In fact, he's there again as I'm writing. You know, it's too bad they're so cute because they all must die.

what are you doing to me university?

Apparently going to University makes us want to have less sex. Higher education is causing our cunts to shrivel and dry up. In other dissapointing news, I found that under affection in the thesaurus, weakness is listed as one of the synonyms (symptoms). Talk about sad association.

mixed reviews

Putting off essays now am I (take that Yoda!) A laundry list of mundane happenings in this recent life:


I received an exciting package filled with glorious wools in a multitude of yummy colours (and softness)

I sacrificed a couple of hours to the procrastination gods to cast on the baby blanket I'm christmas-knitting for my l'il cousin

I ate the best apple of my life - Honeycrisp (somekind of freakish love-child of a delicious and a mac)

I realized that there are an inordinate amount of spiders in my apartment

My best friend dumped me (though I'm not bitter, I swear - and this is supposed to be a fun list - goshdiddlyarnet!

I learned that smart people aren't scary in real life

I am convinced that arrested development is the funniest tv show ever made (even topping the long-time champion, the Simpsons)



Over and out

frozen broccoli

I was stocking the freezer at work today, when something printed on one of the boxes made me pause, and then laugh hysterically. It said: Frozen Broccoli - for internal use only.

Oh frozen broccoli packers, how you crack me up.

Instanbul (not Constantinople)

I had something funny I wanted to post, but it's vanished into the grey matter (perhaps never to return). Of all the inane things I post here, and this one was really good (or so I'm telling myself). Bah. Instead, I think I'll post a fun picture (or eight).


I thought of someone when I saw this guy: I had to take a picture.
(He stood there like that the whole time we were in the barn, hay in mouth, staring belligerently at the silly rednecks and creatures with mechanical phallic eyes)

I also got a huge skein of beautiful, soft, handspun alpaca (from a local farm) in steel grey: yummy!

And now, a bit of foto(graphic)-fun from the fair:

friends, not lovers

I never thought it was possible to cry so much that you forget why.

Karma or something.

At the risk of sounding like bad poetry, this is my heart on the floor. I needed to dump it somewhere. Here's all I've got.

(For those who've wanted me to taste the sting of a friendship gone sour: voilà)

of asses and atheists

My latest wool acquisition became all the more exciting when I discovered that it was 80% god.


Now I only have two wishes in this world:
1) That my computer would stop saying "qwert" when I hit the tab key
2) All wools could be 80% god (thank you Norway)

Since I don't have any great ass shots to spice up this site, I thought I'd include another mundane picture of my pet birds.

(Oh wait!)

Yes, even budgies eat their own asses...

photo-op

no parking!



(all major appliances excepted)

little cultural imperialist

Images are wonderful: tools of communication and expression. They're also dangerous, horrible, and sometimes (many times) degrading. One moment taken out of time-space context becomes a symbol, a timeless representation of a person, place, culture, etc. So how does the photographer capture subtext? Can it be done? Or are we doomed to be forever rapists, and pillagers of spirits?!!

Anyhoo...here's my sinful practice in stereotyping (doesn't the new phallictoy take bee-autiful pictures?):


(Man with lotus root, Toronto: October 1st, 2005)