So, to tally it up, blogathon 2005, raised $55,460.47 for various assorted charities across the world. Hehe. guess who the that tagalong 47 cents belongs to? *smirks* damned Erik. You made your mark, sweets.
At any rate, This is a shoutout to the contributors to my portion of the 'thon, I'm listin' them off, since they've posted as non anonymous contributors.
Dr. Ryan Maynard. He got this party started, by pledging a buck an hour. You have to start somewhere, and I hope your happy, darlin' that I pulled it off. I sure as hell earned every dollar for the Canadian Cancer Society. Thank you Dr. Maynard.
Devin Pike. Matched my 20 for the Swamplog, and made me grin like an idiot when I saw it. Thank you, Devin.
Ian Scott. Donated 50 bucks, and pledged fifty on top of that, for a total of 100 bucks. My total up there isn't accurate, but there's nothing we can do about that other than written acknowledgement. Ian is the winner of the 4 "Glamazons From the Past" images. Thank you, Ian.
Arthur H. Rivers (aka. River Rat) took my taunting tease of titty pictures (whooo, alliteration!) to heart, and pledged 20 bucks to the cause. Your pic will be in your inbox soon. Give me a few days. I need to recoup from this 24 hour crazyness. Thank you, Arthur.
Mr! Erik. Ah, sweetheart. Donating your 25.47, and coming up with the idea from your D&D dice. you've definitely made your mark on this event, whether you meant to, or not. Thank you, Erik.
Jerilyn Freeman. You rock the known universe, Sister of my heart. you and that boyfriend of yours, who made my day with that absolutely precious picture. you're 25 dinero's go towards funding Cancer research. Thank you, Jerilyn.
Justin Baker. Your family has had run in's with cancer too many times for comfort. Actually once, is too many times for comfort. The MP3 discs are yours, with a fully original designed cover. Thank you for your generosity, Justin.
Blueyesbluecar, AKA Crystal D. Hey lady, you know you rock. You saved my butt, and I appreciate you more than you know. Thank you, Crystal.
Candace Waldron. I've been wracking my brain, trying to figure out who you are, but I can't figure it out. Though, considering the shape my grey matter is in right now, it's a moot attempt. Thank you for your generosity, Candace.
I just want you guys to know, that you rock the whole flippin' planet.
I'm finishing everything off with some Green Day. From the new album, "American Idiot" the song is "Wake Me Up, When September Ends" and it's the last thing you're listening to on here for a while. Truth be told I'm getting up at noon. But that's another story. One saved for another day.
Thanks you guys. Very, very much.
*kisses*
Linds.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Okie Dokie.
So starteth the shoutouts.
First of all, a very VERY big thank you to Mike Guerrero, from Churn for his delightful post on Tipping. No, not cows, Gratuity. As in Servers, waiters/waitresses. He saved my butt at about five pm my time, seven pm his time, to let me get out of the house, absorb some natural Vitamin D, and go get a bottle of Coca Cola. Some days, I think I'd sell my soul for a bottle of coke.
Secondly, Devin Pike, For coming in to GSD, and proving to the crowd of my regulars, that I really didn't make you up. I'm joking. Your roundabout post on The Canadian Medical system was very tongue in cheek, and very appreciated. Thank you for trusting me enough to take a turn driving the Swamplog.
thirdly, but not in my heart, you guys are always equal, Mizz Jerilyn, Madamoiselle Unfortunate Serendipity, Holy god. Your post was both well written, touching, and inspiring. You don't give yourself enough credit for your writing skills, and I hope to hell your traffic DOUBLES from this event.
All three of you deserve big sloppy wet kisses on the cheek, and huge hugs. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Now, Erik, My darling Mr! Erik. Thank you for letting me use your server space for the time of this entire 'thon. I owe you. Multiple times. You have no idea how much you saved my ass.
Crystal, for bringing me a latte, and coming over to assure me that I wasn't alone. It was getting pretty lonely here for a while, and you saved the day. Seriously.
Next post will be the pledge givers. Since y'all are ballsy enough to not post anonymously, I'm going to give you all the due you deserve.
I'll be back, with my last post popping up there at six am.
The song up on the server, for this second to last post, is "Gel" by Collective Soul.
Enjoy.
First of all, a very VERY big thank you to Mike Guerrero, from Churn for his delightful post on Tipping. No, not cows, Gratuity. As in Servers, waiters/waitresses. He saved my butt at about five pm my time, seven pm his time, to let me get out of the house, absorb some natural Vitamin D, and go get a bottle of Coca Cola. Some days, I think I'd sell my soul for a bottle of coke.
Secondly, Devin Pike, For coming in to GSD, and proving to the crowd of my regulars, that I really didn't make you up. I'm joking. Your roundabout post on The Canadian Medical system was very tongue in cheek, and very appreciated. Thank you for trusting me enough to take a turn driving the Swamplog.
thirdly, but not in my heart, you guys are always equal, Mizz Jerilyn, Madamoiselle Unfortunate Serendipity, Holy god. Your post was both well written, touching, and inspiring. You don't give yourself enough credit for your writing skills, and I hope to hell your traffic DOUBLES from this event.
All three of you deserve big sloppy wet kisses on the cheek, and huge hugs. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Now, Erik, My darling Mr! Erik. Thank you for letting me use your server space for the time of this entire 'thon. I owe you. Multiple times. You have no idea how much you saved my ass.
Crystal, for bringing me a latte, and coming over to assure me that I wasn't alone. It was getting pretty lonely here for a while, and you saved the day. Seriously.
Next post will be the pledge givers. Since y'all are ballsy enough to not post anonymously, I'm going to give you all the due you deserve.
I'll be back, with my last post popping up there at six am.
The song up on the server, for this second to last post, is "Gel" by Collective Soul.
Enjoy.
Good morning!
An hour more to go, and Blogathon 2005 is officially over and done with, and I've got a lot of shoutouts to do for you guys. I realize I'm petering off, I'm still helping D out with music, and quite honestly, I think now, that my second wind has gone off and forgotten me. I'm tired. I'm going to go full haul, but man alive. I'm not as young as I used to be. Or as drunk as I used to be at this time of night.
Wanna know something funny? My alarm clock just went off, for the same time it went off 24 hours ago. That's actually got me peaked a little.
The song up on the server for this post is "Diggin A Hole" by Big Sugar, A band out of Alberta, that kicks a whole lotta ass.
Wanna know something funny? My alarm clock just went off, for the same time it went off 24 hours ago. That's actually got me peaked a little.
The song up on the server for this post is "Diggin A Hole" by Big Sugar, A band out of Alberta, that kicks a whole lotta ass.
I think...
The last time I did a 24 stint of anything, was when I was working for in the bakery and I was the first person on shift. I used to start my shifts at about four in the morning. Some days at three fourty five in the morning. It's a gadawful time to get up, I'll be perfectly honest. The average human being feels terrible getting up at seven thirty, much less three in the morning. The Jewish princess took me out to karaoke, and I agreed to go. I think it was more than 24 hours to be honest, and I was royally sauced by the time it ended. I think I was up until eleven that morning, and I topped it with a shift at the end of my adventures at the bar.
Rest assured, frying doughnuts at six in the morning is a disgusting task, and I pity anyone that has to do anything of the sort. I've never regretted quitting that job in my life. I made the deliberate decision to start my schooling rather than continue working a job I hate. To be honest, I'd suggest that to anyone that feels like they are stuck working that day to day job, counting the hours until the end of your shift, counting your shifts until the weekend, counting the weeks until your holidays. You get the gist of what I'm saying. I'm thrilled that I've found something that I'd consider a niche, and though I'm not a professional by any means, I've been told that my eyes seemed to express "determination". Right now all you can see when you look at my eyes, is the pair of Louis Vuittons underneath them however.
I've picked "Black Coffee", By Ella Fitzgerald, one of my vocal Icons, for the next half an hour. I hope you enjoy it.
Rest assured, frying doughnuts at six in the morning is a disgusting task, and I pity anyone that has to do anything of the sort. I've never regretted quitting that job in my life. I made the deliberate decision to start my schooling rather than continue working a job I hate. To be honest, I'd suggest that to anyone that feels like they are stuck working that day to day job, counting the hours until the end of your shift, counting your shifts until the weekend, counting the weeks until your holidays. You get the gist of what I'm saying. I'm thrilled that I've found something that I'd consider a niche, and though I'm not a professional by any means, I've been told that my eyes seemed to express "determination". Right now all you can see when you look at my eyes, is the pair of Louis Vuittons underneath them however.
I've picked "Black Coffee", By Ella Fitzgerald, one of my vocal Icons, for the next half an hour. I hope you enjoy it.
Time to recoup.
Things have been juggling between Frantic panic, (Hey! that would be a GREAT band name... Come to think of it, so would Minor Crises.) and now, I've got the chance to take a breather. Devin's got the situation with Blogathon radio under control now, mostly supplied with music from my music library. I'm feeling exhilerated, to be honest. I've been "running around" like a maniac, and apart from the knots in my shoulders, and the ache in my lower back, from sitting typing so damned much, I'm feeling pretty good.
Mike G, from Churn was taunting me by asking when I was going to break, and I told him, defiantly even that I might bend, but I sure as hell won't break. I'm here for the long haul.
at any rate, I've got a RARE track for you lucky few that are staying up so late, reading my barely coherant text. I have... As I write this with a HUGE grin on my face, a live version of "Potholes In My Lawn", by De La Soul, for you guys to listen to.
Enjoy.
Mike G, from Churn was taunting me by asking when I was going to break, and I told him, defiantly even that I might bend, but I sure as hell won't break. I'm here for the long haul.
at any rate, I've got a RARE track for you lucky few that are staying up so late, reading my barely coherant text. I have... As I write this with a HUGE grin on my face, a live version of "Potholes In My Lawn", by De La Soul, for you guys to listen to.
Enjoy.
Holee!!
So I'm sitting outside, gathering my wits about me, and not more than ten feet away from me, is a young skunk.
Linds freezes, watches it, praying this little (and I admit, cute) skunk, doesn't see her moving, doesn't decide that she makes a PERFECT thing to use as target practice. I don't have any tomato Juice in my house, and I don't think OJ is going to cut it.
As you guys might have gathered, I live with my grandmother, who's just turned 74. Life can be trying at times, living with her, she has a tendency to nit pick, and I'm not the most collected person at times. though, right now, I'm faring so well I can't believe I've been up for almost 23 hours. (I've been up since five fifteen, getting ready for this.) I've already got my day planned tomorrow, and I'm only alloting myself six hours of sleep, since I have two final projects due on Monday. To say I'm FREAKING, albeit in my head, is bang on the money.
I've picked the song "Get Ur Freak On" by Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot, one of my all time favourite female rappers, as the next song for the GSD podcast.
Enjoy. I really have no idea if anyone is listening to these things, but from what I've gathered, I've got a few readers zipping back and forth. Thanks, even if you don't comment, rest assured, I appreciate it.
Linds freezes, watches it, praying this little (and I admit, cute) skunk, doesn't see her moving, doesn't decide that she makes a PERFECT thing to use as target practice. I don't have any tomato Juice in my house, and I don't think OJ is going to cut it.
As you guys might have gathered, I live with my grandmother, who's just turned 74. Life can be trying at times, living with her, she has a tendency to nit pick, and I'm not the most collected person at times. though, right now, I'm faring so well I can't believe I've been up for almost 23 hours. (I've been up since five fifteen, getting ready for this.) I've already got my day planned tomorrow, and I'm only alloting myself six hours of sleep, since I have two final projects due on Monday. To say I'm FREAKING, albeit in my head, is bang on the money.
I've picked the song "Get Ur Freak On" by Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot, one of my all time favourite female rappers, as the next song for the GSD podcast.
Enjoy. I really have no idea if anyone is listening to these things, but from what I've gathered, I've got a few readers zipping back and forth. Thanks, even if you don't comment, rest assured, I appreciate it.
Double duty at the Blogathon Corral.
I'm covering for D on the swamplog b2k5, and I'm doing stuff in here. I'm glad I type fast.
so to finish my story, my ever so embarassing one, SIX years later, I'm in highschool I'm graduating from Central, and Blair is graduating with me. Like I've said, he's the exact same age as me, but he started in my highschool in grade ten, because he went to a junior High.
His best friend Ryan, (not the same as my Ryan) had his highschool annual, and I'd become pretty good friends with blair over the years. He didn't seem to remember the event that happened, but if he did, he put a good face on pretending he didn't.
I scored Blairs annual from Ryan, and went and wrote out the entire story, leaving my phone number at the bottom. I run into him occasionally downtown, at various karaoke bars, and he always looks pretty happy to see me. Of course, I'm about three MILLION times more put together than I was in highschool, but that's neither here, nor there.
so to finish my story, my ever so embarassing one, SIX years later, I'm in highschool I'm graduating from Central, and Blair is graduating with me. Like I've said, he's the exact same age as me, but he started in my highschool in grade ten, because he went to a junior High.
His best friend Ryan, (not the same as my Ryan) had his highschool annual, and I'd become pretty good friends with blair over the years. He didn't seem to remember the event that happened, but if he did, he put a good face on pretending he didn't.
I scored Blairs annual from Ryan, and went and wrote out the entire story, leaving my phone number at the bottom. I run into him occasionally downtown, at various karaoke bars, and he always looks pretty happy to see me. Of course, I'm about three MILLION times more put together than I was in highschool, but that's neither here, nor there.
Embarassing Moments. Part 2.
Okay, so my friend Nita and I decided to go to the park. Simple enough. I had chosen to wear a long sleeved pink plaid button up shirt, (Don't ask. I had no style until I was about 18...) and we were going to go chill out.
We get to the park, and we're hanging out by the swings. Walking down the path towards the ballpark area, Lo and behold, my crush. Blair. GREAT! now I'm thinking,
"How do I show off for him? I KNOW! I'll JUMP off the swing!! Brilliant!"
No! Not brilliant! STUPID! Very, Very stupid! problems arise, problems I'm not aware of. I'm swinging as hard as possible, I'm getting as high as I've ever gone on the swings before, and I didn't seem to notice that the side of my shirt has snagged on the S hook on the side of the swing.
I jump. I yell "HEY BLAIR!"
My shirt, all pink, plaid, buttoned up goodness, pops open. Oh god. The look on his face. Oh god. the look on Nita's face. I grab the shreds of my poor, mangled shirt, pulling them together over my body. Remarkably. I've landed on my feet. I run hell for leather behind a tree. I'm mortified. Nita is laughing so hard, she's doubled over. Tears are streaming down her face.
*sighs*
This story isn't finished. One more post, and I'll have it done. You get no songs this entry, Ian was greedy. :P listen to those ones.
*kisses*
We get to the park, and we're hanging out by the swings. Walking down the path towards the ballpark area, Lo and behold, my crush. Blair. GREAT! now I'm thinking,
"How do I show off for him? I KNOW! I'll JUMP off the swing!! Brilliant!"
No! Not brilliant! STUPID! Very, Very stupid! problems arise, problems I'm not aware of. I'm swinging as hard as possible, I'm getting as high as I've ever gone on the swings before, and I didn't seem to notice that the side of my shirt has snagged on the S hook on the side of the swing.
I jump. I yell "HEY BLAIR!"
My shirt, all pink, plaid, buttoned up goodness, pops open. Oh god. The look on his face. Oh god. the look on Nita's face. I grab the shreds of my poor, mangled shirt, pulling them together over my body. Remarkably. I've landed on my feet. I run hell for leather behind a tree. I'm mortified. Nita is laughing so hard, she's doubled over. Tears are streaming down her face.
*sighs*
This story isn't finished. One more post, and I'll have it done. You get no songs this entry, Ian was greedy. :P listen to those ones.
*kisses*
A Request For Ian...
Well, Two, actually. This post is early, since Ian should have been in bed AGES ago! You crazy, Ian.
Fat bottomed Girls - Queen
Bicycle - Queen
Fat bottomed Girls - Queen
Bicycle - Queen
Quick Question!
Hey Luka, Site Monitor!
Do you have a song you'd like to hear? I probably have it on my comp!
I live to serve.
Do you have a song you'd like to hear? I probably have it on my comp!
I live to serve.
Crisis, averted.
Or at least we hope.
At any rate, enough about that, I'm going to tell you all a story. I'm actually going to expose my soul, and tell you my most embarassing moment. Or at least the most embarassing moment I can remember. But not the whole thing, This is part one.
When I was about 14 years old, I was involved in numerous choirs. One of which was the Burnaby District Youth Choir. Now, while attending this choir, I happened to meet this guy, named Blair. Tall, with blue eyes, dark hair. Yup. you guessed it, Linds, was in puppy love. Immediately. As it happens, of course a guy my age (and I'm talking EXACTLY my age, we shared the same birthday) happened to be one of the only guys that talked to me. Like I said in a previous post, I was a shy girl. I was also usually ignored.
Now, time progressed, we did a bunch of shows together, etc. and the choir session ended. simple enough.
I had a girlfriend at that time, and unfortunately I haven't talked to her in years. Her name was Nita. Very nice girl. East Indian background, and like me, was one of the misfits in our school. and both of us, had started.... developing... at a rather early age. Okay, I'm not going to be coy, here. We were both rather busty. Busty enough that some of the kids in our class accused us of padding our bras. Not so, my friends. and I'll tell you why. *I* had a serious aversion to wearing a bra. like most girls, I found it uncomfortable. Mainly because I wasn't used to wearing one... This has relevance. Hear me out. If not in this entry, than in the next one, which will be the finishing segment, within the next half an hour. Consider it a titty teaser, and you'll get a good chuckle, because hell, I can laugh at it now, and I'm comfy enough bringing it up in the first place. Consider it part of those "loosened Inhibitions" that I was mentioning earlier on this afternoon. Y'know. The ones I was telling you I was dreading. Hell. I'm lucky enough to make a coherant sentence right now. If I make less than four spelling errors an entry, I'm shocked.
The song up on the server right now, is done by Dirty Vegas, and it's called "Simple Things, Part 2." A fantastic tune, that borrows some Pink Floyd "The Wall" along the way.
You can listen to it here.
Enjoy.
At any rate, enough about that, I'm going to tell you all a story. I'm actually going to expose my soul, and tell you my most embarassing moment. Or at least the most embarassing moment I can remember. But not the whole thing, This is part one.
When I was about 14 years old, I was involved in numerous choirs. One of which was the Burnaby District Youth Choir. Now, while attending this choir, I happened to meet this guy, named Blair. Tall, with blue eyes, dark hair. Yup. you guessed it, Linds, was in puppy love. Immediately. As it happens, of course a guy my age (and I'm talking EXACTLY my age, we shared the same birthday) happened to be one of the only guys that talked to me. Like I said in a previous post, I was a shy girl. I was also usually ignored.
Now, time progressed, we did a bunch of shows together, etc. and the choir session ended. simple enough.
I had a girlfriend at that time, and unfortunately I haven't talked to her in years. Her name was Nita. Very nice girl. East Indian background, and like me, was one of the misfits in our school. and both of us, had started.... developing... at a rather early age. Okay, I'm not going to be coy, here. We were both rather busty. Busty enough that some of the kids in our class accused us of padding our bras. Not so, my friends. and I'll tell you why. *I* had a serious aversion to wearing a bra. like most girls, I found it uncomfortable. Mainly because I wasn't used to wearing one... This has relevance. Hear me out. If not in this entry, than in the next one, which will be the finishing segment, within the next half an hour. Consider it a titty teaser, and you'll get a good chuckle, because hell, I can laugh at it now, and I'm comfy enough bringing it up in the first place. Consider it part of those "loosened Inhibitions" that I was mentioning earlier on this afternoon. Y'know. The ones I was telling you I was dreading. Hell. I'm lucky enough to make a coherant sentence right now. If I make less than four spelling errors an entry, I'm shocked.
The song up on the server right now, is done by Dirty Vegas, and it's called "Simple Things, Part 2." A fantastic tune, that borrows some Pink Floyd "The Wall" along the way.
You can listen to it here.
Enjoy.
Musical Chairs.
I'm still dancing back and forth sending Devin songs, and writing my own shtuff here in GSD, so this is going to be a pretty brief entry, I'm cutting it short.
The next song I've got popping up for you, is C'est Fantastique, which is from Love Inc, frontlined by Chris Shephard, one of the biggest DJs from Canada. I think. I dunno. This is a canadian group, at any rate, and the chick that sings usually has shockingly powerful vocals.
I love this song, and I hope you dig it too.
Enjoy.
The next song I've got popping up for you, is C'est Fantastique, which is from Love Inc, frontlined by Chris Shephard, one of the biggest DJs from Canada. I think. I dunno. This is a canadian group, at any rate, and the chick that sings usually has shockingly powerful vocals.
I love this song, and I hope you dig it too.
Enjoy.
Wake Up Call.
Well, the mild panic ensuing after trying to help Mr Pike with the contents of my rather extensive music library has paid off somewhat, he's working his "talky magic" at this moment in time. Whatever the hell that means. That man could convince a nun to take off her panties, I swear...
Okay. I'm laughing for a good minute over that line alone. Whoo... My spelling and grammar has been shot to hell, but I can't expect any better than this at this time of night, with the amount of writing I've been doing.
When I was in Highschool, I was shy, reticient, even, and didn't really have many friends, other than the "Holy Triad". In otherwords, Ryan, Crystal B. and Crystal D. We never really hung out all at once, but tended to hang out with each other on a solo basis.... Does that even make sense? I think it does. *sighs* I chilled out with them individually, anyways. That's what I'm getting at. The same happens now, however, since I've been going to school full time, working on homework 6 to 8 hours a night, and struggling through my finals, I haven't seen Crystal B or Ryan all that much. I often feel like a bad friend, but I know that they understand, and would never shun me for trying to better myself with an education that would eventually bring me a fairly substantial income. At least I *HOPE* it will.
Crystal D, is the saviour that just brought me my Latte, she's my tanning partner, my tennis partner, and the girl I go out with all the time on various meandering road trips with. Ryan, is an old roomie of mine, Cynical, Funny as hell, and one of the cutest gay men I know. Crystal B, is the mommy of my "nephew" (I am auntie Linds, occasionally, I'm "Funny Auntie Linds")
My parents have known these "kids" for as long as I have, and both of them have a fondness for all three. When Ryan started working on the cruise ships, my dad called him 'Cabin Boy" and looked forward to his postcards almost as much as I did. He calls Crystal B, Blondie, because she's got long blonde hair that goes all the way down to her waist. Her son has the same colour hair... Like sunshine dipped in gold. Beautiful. I think my dad has a particular fondness for Crystal D, who in her own way, was as shy as I was, and I think now that we hang out all the time, she's opened up. Or at least partially because of me... I tend to do that to people. I make them laugh, I make them talk, and mainly because I love to see them open up that way. I love to see them not being afraid to My dad calls Crystal D. "Bambi" though neither she nor I have the faintest Idea WHY. It's funny as hell. Well, to me, anyways...
At any rate, I'm yammering on, but the fact of the matter is, that these people are the focal points in my life, if you haven't gathered that yet. I'm so highly social, that I feel... Well, I guess I feel abandoned without my friends. I have no siblings. I was lonely as a kid, and I think I swore to myself that I'd never be lonely again, even subconciously.
Sometimes, you choose the people that you call family. I'm glad I chose these people.
Okay. I'm laughing for a good minute over that line alone. Whoo... My spelling and grammar has been shot to hell, but I can't expect any better than this at this time of night, with the amount of writing I've been doing.
When I was in Highschool, I was shy, reticient, even, and didn't really have many friends, other than the "Holy Triad". In otherwords, Ryan, Crystal B. and Crystal D. We never really hung out all at once, but tended to hang out with each other on a solo basis.... Does that even make sense? I think it does. *sighs* I chilled out with them individually, anyways. That's what I'm getting at. The same happens now, however, since I've been going to school full time, working on homework 6 to 8 hours a night, and struggling through my finals, I haven't seen Crystal B or Ryan all that much. I often feel like a bad friend, but I know that they understand, and would never shun me for trying to better myself with an education that would eventually bring me a fairly substantial income. At least I *HOPE* it will.
Crystal D, is the saviour that just brought me my Latte, she's my tanning partner, my tennis partner, and the girl I go out with all the time on various meandering road trips with. Ryan, is an old roomie of mine, Cynical, Funny as hell, and one of the cutest gay men I know. Crystal B, is the mommy of my "nephew" (I am auntie Linds, occasionally, I'm "Funny Auntie Linds")
My parents have known these "kids" for as long as I have, and both of them have a fondness for all three. When Ryan started working on the cruise ships, my dad called him 'Cabin Boy" and looked forward to his postcards almost as much as I did. He calls Crystal B, Blondie, because she's got long blonde hair that goes all the way down to her waist. Her son has the same colour hair... Like sunshine dipped in gold. Beautiful. I think my dad has a particular fondness for Crystal D, who in her own way, was as shy as I was, and I think now that we hang out all the time, she's opened up. Or at least partially because of me... I tend to do that to people. I make them laugh, I make them talk, and mainly because I love to see them open up that way. I love to see them not being afraid to My dad calls Crystal D. "Bambi" though neither she nor I have the faintest Idea WHY. It's funny as hell. Well, to me, anyways...
At any rate, I'm yammering on, but the fact of the matter is, that these people are the focal points in my life, if you haven't gathered that yet. I'm so highly social, that I feel... Well, I guess I feel abandoned without my friends. I have no siblings. I was lonely as a kid, and I think I swore to myself that I'd never be lonely again, even subconciously.
Sometimes, you choose the people that you call family. I'm glad I chose these people.
Eek.
I swear to god, Dev's having nothing but technical errors, ALL day long. The poor guy. I apologize for the shortness of this post, I'm still awake, and frantically trying to help my man get his shit in gear here. Technology is rebelling against him, and I've got nothing but sympathy for him. He's hosting the last four hours of Blogathon Radio, and he's got to get his stuff ready to go, however, Itunes is being a bitch.
I'll be back in half an hour. Thanks for understanding.
The song on the server, though you may hate him, you may LOVE him, is Michael Jackson. But not just ANY michael song, the ULTIMATE Michael Jackson tune. It's the Michael Jackson 1980's megamix. This was something that I got exposed to while I went down to Dallas in early May. This song rocks the fucking planet. sorry for the delay, I know I'm usually a few minutes before the hour, or half an hour, I had to upload the song to the server, it's ten minutes long and takes a bit of time. Thanks for your patience.
Candy for yer ears can be found here.
I'll be back in half an hour. Thanks for understanding.
The song on the server, though you may hate him, you may LOVE him, is Michael Jackson. But not just ANY michael song, the ULTIMATE Michael Jackson tune. It's the Michael Jackson 1980's megamix. This was something that I got exposed to while I went down to Dallas in early May. This song rocks the fucking planet. sorry for the delay, I know I'm usually a few minutes before the hour, or half an hour, I had to upload the song to the server, it's ten minutes long and takes a bit of time. Thanks for your patience.
Candy for yer ears can be found here.
My Saviour has Left The Building...
And off to her comfortable bed. The conversation devolved into mad giggles, as it normally does when we're both overtired. My latte has gone the way of the Do Do, but I think with that extra caffeine infusion, I'll be good to go for the next five and a half hours.
I've been eating lots of bananas, which are loaded with Potassium, one of the best natural source of energy there is. I heart bananas.
Jerilyn has been tossing me tunes for the past little while, and she sent me a couple of songs done by Venus Hum, which is going to be the next featured artist here on Glamazon Shoes. I dig the beat way too much in this tune, entitled "Soul Sloshing". The female vocalist does a fantastic job of making her voice staccato with the beat...
So there you go. the next song up on the server, is "Soul Sloshing", by Venus Hum. Thanks Jerilyn!
Saturday, August 06, 2005
The tired has passed...
Somewhat, and the giddiness has begun. Long live the giddy.
At any rate, I was going to write you guys a story about New York, again. I'm wracking my brain, which is getting sluggish at this point in time. I won't crack, I've got people on my ass, cheering me on.
so I've written the rain one, and I realize that I'm going to backtrack a little here, but I didn't have enough time to complete the story the way I wanted to tell it. So I am now.
At any rate, I was saying how, the rain on the cement, is one of my favourite smells, and the reason why this pops into my head at this moment in time, is because about a week ago, when I was talking to Ian online, there was a huge thunderstorm outside.
Vancouver's been having a little heat wave. Nothing like Ontario is suffering, of course, but when there is days upon days of hot weather, you know that the thunderstorms are coming along somewhere in the middle.
At four in the morning, I was waxing philosophic with Ian, discussing a myriad of things. This man has an interesting outlook on life, and the conversation was jumping all over the place. I could hear the sound of the thunder booming outside, and the rain was slamming against the side of the house, and I couldn't resist. Four am gets me lost in my memories, apparently.
I went outside, a little scared that the lightening was going to strike me dead, (My Grandmother is rubbing off on me, she's terrified of Thunderstorms, and I adore them.) just to feel the rain on my skin, and smelled the same smell from New York from the path down the center of my yard. The memories that flooded through my mind, just from the scent alone were amazing, and brought it to the forefront of my mind.
It's amazing the power that scent has over memory. You can recall an event from a whiff of perfume on the breeze, you can recall conversations from the scent of a flower, from it being on the table during dinner. Or from the dinner itself. I tend to revel in the scent of a lover, after a long time of separation from them. It's really a powerful thing.
The song up on the server right now is B.B. King, "How Blue Can You Get". One of my favourite songs by him.
At any rate, I was going to write you guys a story about New York, again. I'm wracking my brain, which is getting sluggish at this point in time. I won't crack, I've got people on my ass, cheering me on.
so I've written the rain one, and I realize that I'm going to backtrack a little here, but I didn't have enough time to complete the story the way I wanted to tell it. So I am now.
At any rate, I was saying how, the rain on the cement, is one of my favourite smells, and the reason why this pops into my head at this moment in time, is because about a week ago, when I was talking to Ian online, there was a huge thunderstorm outside.
Vancouver's been having a little heat wave. Nothing like Ontario is suffering, of course, but when there is days upon days of hot weather, you know that the thunderstorms are coming along somewhere in the middle.
At four in the morning, I was waxing philosophic with Ian, discussing a myriad of things. This man has an interesting outlook on life, and the conversation was jumping all over the place. I could hear the sound of the thunder booming outside, and the rain was slamming against the side of the house, and I couldn't resist. Four am gets me lost in my memories, apparently.
I went outside, a little scared that the lightening was going to strike me dead, (My Grandmother is rubbing off on me, she's terrified of Thunderstorms, and I adore them.) just to feel the rain on my skin, and smelled the same smell from New York from the path down the center of my yard. The memories that flooded through my mind, just from the scent alone were amazing, and brought it to the forefront of my mind.
It's amazing the power that scent has over memory. You can recall an event from a whiff of perfume on the breeze, you can recall conversations from the scent of a flower, from it being on the table during dinner. Or from the dinner itself. I tend to revel in the scent of a lover, after a long time of separation from them. It's really a powerful thing.
The song up on the server right now is B.B. King, "How Blue Can You Get". One of my favourite songs by him.
YAY!! Latte!!!
One of my best galpals showed up, at 11 with a latte for me! I'm elated! I've been chatting away with her for the past ten minutes or so, catching up on the day outside of the dungeon. It amazes me how fast a half an hour can go past, when you've got to spend 15 minutes of it writing for the next entry.
I'm typoing a lot, as I'm going along, so it's getting a little slower, but my latte should help tremendously.
I'll do another New York post next entry, and I know I can see you shiver with antici....
.....
...pation.
*kisses*
Linds.
I'm typoing a lot, as I'm going along, so it's getting a little slower, but my latte should help tremendously.
I'll do another New York post next entry, and I know I can see you shiver with antici....
.....
...pation.
*kisses*
Linds.
Interesting...
After reading Jerilyn's stunning post, (and honestly sister of my heart, thank you. that was beautifully done) I can't help but reflect upon how lucky I am to have such a wide, wonderful, LOVING circle of friends. I'm not just talking about the people I know here in Vancouver, but the ones I've made over my year and a quarter of blogging. What makes me think the most, and what makes my heart ache, is the feeling of loneliness that pervades the souls that I befriend.
Dean, my neurotic monkey. I know how lonely you get. I know that in my heart, there's a woman (or women, *leers*) out there for you, and you're going to knock them off of their feet with your knowledge of pop culture, movies, music and your inherantly romantic nature. You remind me of one of my best girlfriends here in town, and the feeling I get when I see her alone, tears at my heart, when I know how fabulous she is. You're the same way.
Mitch. You go through women like a hot knife through butter, but the amount of time I've spent talking with you online, creating that bond, that *mental* bond, with you, gives me a depth and insight into you that's shocking at times. I can almost predict what you say, and it's a pleasure to chat with you, almost every day.
Erik. *sighs* I miss you, you shit. I miss you already, and you've only been gone a month. No one is more fun to blab with over cheap pizza. I know life will settle down for you over in Ontario, and when it does, you're going to dazzle the chicks there. If you find the time. The lady that gets you, is lucky as hell.
I'm skipping people. I don't have the time to do this post justice. Suffice it to say, that I'm very happy to have you, in one form or another, in my life. Thank you.
I realize it's a bit melencholy, and I apologize for it, but if there is anything I'm known for writing about, it's the feelings in my heart.
The song up on the server right now is from the incomparable Miss Aretha Franklin, and the song I chose is "Today I Sing The Blues" which is one of my all time favourite songs by her. Aretha is the balm to my soul, when I'm down, and blue.
Have a listen here.
Enjoy.
Dean, my neurotic monkey. I know how lonely you get. I know that in my heart, there's a woman (or women, *leers*) out there for you, and you're going to knock them off of their feet with your knowledge of pop culture, movies, music and your inherantly romantic nature. You remind me of one of my best girlfriends here in town, and the feeling I get when I see her alone, tears at my heart, when I know how fabulous she is. You're the same way.
Mitch. You go through women like a hot knife through butter, but the amount of time I've spent talking with you online, creating that bond, that *mental* bond, with you, gives me a depth and insight into you that's shocking at times. I can almost predict what you say, and it's a pleasure to chat with you, almost every day.
Erik. *sighs* I miss you, you shit. I miss you already, and you've only been gone a month. No one is more fun to blab with over cheap pizza. I know life will settle down for you over in Ontario, and when it does, you're going to dazzle the chicks there. If you find the time. The lady that gets you, is lucky as hell.
I'm skipping people. I don't have the time to do this post justice. Suffice it to say, that I'm very happy to have you, in one form or another, in my life. Thank you.
I realize it's a bit melencholy, and I apologize for it, but if there is anything I'm known for writing about, it's the feelings in my heart.
The song up on the server right now is from the incomparable Miss Aretha Franklin, and the song I chose is "Today I Sing The Blues" which is one of my all time favourite songs by her. Aretha is the balm to my soul, when I'm down, and blue.
Have a listen here.
Enjoy.
'I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeVille'
Here I sit in the middle of the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex, behind the screen of a Compaq nx9010 and the moniker Unfortunate Serendipity……when Linds invites me to join the elite team manning GSD.
First, the catch in my breathing…then the sweaty palms.
Of course, I agree. Then panic – what the heck can I contribute that can compare in any way to the posts already here?
Answer – I cannot compete…Nonetheless, I compose.
I admire Linds for many reasons....for her brilliant and witty banter, her insightful commentary.....and her amazing cheekbones.....b*tch. (Love you, girl).
I have been intrigued by the Blogathon concept, but have yet to commit to one, because I value my sleep, selfish wench that I am. But, I love the absolute immersion shown by the participants – and the camaraderie that develops across the miles, borders, genders and cultures.
I am a recent transplant to the DFW area. I grew up in the wild expanse that is West Texas, in a tiny town with a population smaller than the number of cattle housed at the feedlot two miles from my house. Fervently religious, conservative, quiet, unassuming.
Then I arrived in Dallas. It was truly a case of intrastate culture shock.
I cursed the traffic…then bought an Avalanche to bully my way through a population of people that I can only assume were absent the day that 'proper merging techniques' were taught in Drivers' Education.
I got a wonderful job managing the HR department for a company headquartered in Dallas. A year later, I feel well-established. I am not rolling in money, but it pays the bills and gives me some cash with which to play, if I am careful.
Of course……once the culture shock wears off…one starts to assimilate.
I detested the 'Dallas Snobs' who wouldn't leave the 214 area code for fear of getting 'Ft. Worth cooties'. I sneered in derision at the way they stared down their beautifully sculpted noses. Of course, I have become one of them (without the sculpted nose, mind you). I groan at the thought of having to travel further west than the PetsMart near my house.
I hated Dallas men…brash braggarts…30k 'millionaires'...financially overextended, full of bravado with nothing tangible to back it up. Of course, I relented and dated a few of them. It was something I had to do. That was an exercise in futility. I very clearly remembered getting fed up with one, telling him that he could apply his lips to my posterior region before I'd see him again….and haughtily walking out of an upscale locale……..only to remember I had no ride. (Hey, I never said I was brilliant, you see.)
I shopped for loft space, became a shopping fiend at Ann Taylor…and planned my life around Happy Hours and found myself with a group of friends on 'lists' around town. My job allows me to score box seats at a few major sporting events…and I have found myself going to concerts and shows I would never have dreamed about attending back when I was 'only a West Texas farm girl.'
I have friends back home who are jealous of the life I lead…and I have something to tell them.
I miss home. I miss walking a mile out into the middle of a cotton field alone, and yet feeling connected. Of knowing I have 'roots'….a sense of belonging. I miss the serenity that used to envelope me like a cocoon…..living in a place where nothing truly bad ever happens….a place where people still leave their doors unlocked when they leave home, just in case a neighbor needs to 'stop by and use the phone'. I miss knowing the name of everyone in my town…of greeting someone and immediately being drawn into a conversation…time slows down when you're home.
I miss the fact that a date used to be someone who met your parents before they whisked you off to dinner, a movie and quite possibly some lewd behavior in the middle of a softball field overgrown with late fall grasses. ( Not that I would know, of course…just in case my father ever reads this). I miss friends with whom you could do nothing at all….just share one another's company….instead of meticulously planning a 'party strategy' to ensure you got the most 'social' bang for your buck and popularity points for your group.
I miss my father….of being able to fold my now-adult body into a tiny ball and sob on his shoulder while he comforts me, and assures me everything will turn out just fine. Somehow I always believed him….and turn out fine, it did. Where is he when I arrive home from work now and search for some sign that what I do actually matters in the grand scheme of things?
I make the best of living in the whirlwind that is Dallas …try to broaden my horizons in every way possible. I soak up the culture, the scenery, the people…and take a little bit of it with me every time………I know I am making memories and developing friendships that I hope will stand the test of time and will mature beyond mere social interaction…..
…….I just hope that someday, it feels like 'home' to me, too.
First, the catch in my breathing…then the sweaty palms.
Of course, I agree. Then panic – what the heck can I contribute that can compare in any way to the posts already here?
Answer – I cannot compete…Nonetheless, I compose.
I admire Linds for many reasons....for her brilliant and witty banter, her insightful commentary.....and her amazing cheekbones.....b*tch. (Love you, girl).
I have been intrigued by the Blogathon concept, but have yet to commit to one, because I value my sleep, selfish wench that I am. But, I love the absolute immersion shown by the participants – and the camaraderie that develops across the miles, borders, genders and cultures.
I am a recent transplant to the DFW area. I grew up in the wild expanse that is West Texas, in a tiny town with a population smaller than the number of cattle housed at the feedlot two miles from my house. Fervently religious, conservative, quiet, unassuming.
Then I arrived in Dallas. It was truly a case of intrastate culture shock.
I cursed the traffic…then bought an Avalanche to bully my way through a population of people that I can only assume were absent the day that 'proper merging techniques' were taught in Drivers' Education.
I got a wonderful job managing the HR department for a company headquartered in Dallas. A year later, I feel well-established. I am not rolling in money, but it pays the bills and gives me some cash with which to play, if I am careful.
Of course……once the culture shock wears off…one starts to assimilate.
I detested the 'Dallas Snobs' who wouldn't leave the 214 area code for fear of getting 'Ft. Worth cooties'. I sneered in derision at the way they stared down their beautifully sculpted noses. Of course, I have become one of them (without the sculpted nose, mind you). I groan at the thought of having to travel further west than the PetsMart near my house.
I hated Dallas men…brash braggarts…30k 'millionaires'...financially overextended, full of bravado with nothing tangible to back it up. Of course, I relented and dated a few of them. It was something I had to do. That was an exercise in futility. I very clearly remembered getting fed up with one, telling him that he could apply his lips to my posterior region before I'd see him again….and haughtily walking out of an upscale locale……..only to remember I had no ride. (Hey, I never said I was brilliant, you see.)
I shopped for loft space, became a shopping fiend at Ann Taylor…and planned my life around Happy Hours and found myself with a group of friends on 'lists' around town. My job allows me to score box seats at a few major sporting events…and I have found myself going to concerts and shows I would never have dreamed about attending back when I was 'only a West Texas farm girl.'
I have friends back home who are jealous of the life I lead…and I have something to tell them.
I miss home. I miss walking a mile out into the middle of a cotton field alone, and yet feeling connected. Of knowing I have 'roots'….a sense of belonging. I miss the serenity that used to envelope me like a cocoon…..living in a place where nothing truly bad ever happens….a place where people still leave their doors unlocked when they leave home, just in case a neighbor needs to 'stop by and use the phone'. I miss knowing the name of everyone in my town…of greeting someone and immediately being drawn into a conversation…time slows down when you're home.
I miss the fact that a date used to be someone who met your parents before they whisked you off to dinner, a movie and quite possibly some lewd behavior in the middle of a softball field overgrown with late fall grasses. ( Not that I would know, of course…just in case my father ever reads this). I miss friends with whom you could do nothing at all….just share one another's company….instead of meticulously planning a 'party strategy' to ensure you got the most 'social' bang for your buck and popularity points for your group.
I miss my father….of being able to fold my now-adult body into a tiny ball and sob on his shoulder while he comforts me, and assures me everything will turn out just fine. Somehow I always believed him….and turn out fine, it did. Where is he when I arrive home from work now and search for some sign that what I do actually matters in the grand scheme of things?
I make the best of living in the whirlwind that is Dallas …try to broaden my horizons in every way possible. I soak up the culture, the scenery, the people…and take a little bit of it with me every time………I know I am making memories and developing friendships that I hope will stand the test of time and will mature beyond mere social interaction…..
…….I just hope that someday, it feels like 'home' to me, too.
Beautiful Lady...
Mizz Unfortunate Serendipity herself, has agreed to post in The Glamazon Shoes, sliding her delicate size 8 1/2's into my size 11's. Bitch. *winks at Jerilyn* while she's walking around like a little girl in Mommy's shoes, be sure to pay attention to what she's written. She's not only beautiful, she's one helluva great writer, and it's an honour for me to have her writing in "The Shoes."
A little background on this babe-o-rama.
According to her, the original concept behind her post was going to be 'Ode to my VCH: How my genital piercing changed my life', however, she felt that it was a little inappropriate. Unless of course they "have to sign a waiver stating they are over 18 and promising me sexual favors if they are young, hot males".
Straight from the mouth of a babe. No word of a lie. Without further ado, I present to you, for my 12:30 her time, 10:30 my time posting: Madamoiselle Unfortunate Serendipity, Mizz Jerilyn.
A little background on this babe-o-rama.
According to her, the original concept behind her post was going to be 'Ode to my VCH: How my genital piercing changed my life', however, she felt that it was a little inappropriate. Unless of course they "have to sign a waiver stating they are over 18 and promising me sexual favors if they are young, hot males".
Straight from the mouth of a babe. No word of a lie. Without further ado, I present to you, for my 12:30 her time, 10:30 my time posting: Madamoiselle Unfortunate Serendipity, Mizz Jerilyn.
Human Again, To Be Human Again...
I just took the quickest shower in the universe. Five minutes, scrubbed damned near everything, washed my hair, wiped down the shower walls, and still made it down here with ample time to spare for this post.
The clincher? I'm still only wearing my towel.
It's Ten O clock My time, and I've got eight more hours to go. I'm impressed with myself, and the fact that I'm not pumping out garbage yet. My Latte still hasn't arrived, but I'm expecting it any time now. I still want it like a fat kid wants cake, but now that I've scrubbed the sweat from typing frantically off of my brow, I'm feeling a little better about the whole ordeal.
I've been chatting with the ever lovely and curvacious Mizz Jerilyn, the headmistress over at Unfortunate Serendipity, about the possibility of her writing a post in here. She seems game, and has been pondering over the content of her entry for a little while. I have complete faith in her, since she's not only beautiful, she's very smart and very funny, often having me burst out laughing in the middle of homework assignments over one thing or another. This wicked, cynical chiquita is worth visiting, so if you get the chance, go over to Unfortunate Serendipity and leave a note of undying devotion at her doorstep.
And hey, while your surfing around, go say hello to Mike G, over at the Churn Nation, Devin, at the Swamplog Blogathon 2005 page, who's trudging right along with me, and go read what the Mayor, Fenris Badwulf and Sargon the Magnificent have to say over in Mitchieville. All very cool cats, in my humble opinion.
If you like what I've been writing so far, and feel like contributing to the cause I'm doing all of this for, you can go to the link right here, and pldege some dinero to the Canadian Cancer Society. It's fora good cause, and you know you kick a lot of ass for doing it.
The song up on the server for the duration of this post, is "Secret" By Maroon 5. Bear with it, it's got a long intro, but the song itself is quite enjoyable.
The clincher? I'm still only wearing my towel.
It's Ten O clock My time, and I've got eight more hours to go. I'm impressed with myself, and the fact that I'm not pumping out garbage yet. My Latte still hasn't arrived, but I'm expecting it any time now. I still want it like a fat kid wants cake, but now that I've scrubbed the sweat from typing frantically off of my brow, I'm feeling a little better about the whole ordeal.
I've been chatting with the ever lovely and curvacious Mizz Jerilyn, the headmistress over at Unfortunate Serendipity, about the possibility of her writing a post in here. She seems game, and has been pondering over the content of her entry for a little while. I have complete faith in her, since she's not only beautiful, she's very smart and very funny, often having me burst out laughing in the middle of homework assignments over one thing or another. This wicked, cynical chiquita is worth visiting, so if you get the chance, go over to Unfortunate Serendipity and leave a note of undying devotion at her doorstep.
And hey, while your surfing around, go say hello to Mike G, over at the Churn Nation, Devin, at the Swamplog Blogathon 2005 page, who's trudging right along with me, and go read what the Mayor, Fenris Badwulf and Sargon the Magnificent have to say over in Mitchieville. All very cool cats, in my humble opinion.
If you like what I've been writing so far, and feel like contributing to the cause I'm doing all of this for, you can go to the link right here, and pldege some dinero to the Canadian Cancer Society. It's fora good cause, and you know you kick a lot of ass for doing it.
The song up on the server for the duration of this post, is "Secret" By Maroon 5. Bear with it, it's got a long intro, but the song itself is quite enjoyable.
Now...
I know I've mentioned this girl before on GSD, but she deserves a song on the 'thon. I'm talking about Renee Olstead, and I'm not going to go into details again, but she's phenomenal. This is the 15 year old from Texas, with the voice that I would DIE for. So once again, Renee Olstead takes the spotlight, here on the Glamazon Shoe Diaries, and blows my friggin mind.
Earlier on, I tossed out a song done by Michael Buble, the local Vancouver fella that's been dazzling women far and wide in this great country of mine.
Have a listen here. it's my favourite Jazz standard, and she rocks the hell out of it.
Earlier on, I tossed out a song done by Michael Buble, the local Vancouver fella that's been dazzling women far and wide in this great country of mine.
Have a listen here. it's my favourite Jazz standard, and she rocks the hell out of it.
The Plague of Celibacy.
Ever been so horny you could fuck a knothole in a fence?
Do you know what I resort to, when taken to that limit of my endurance, when I'm ready to rock and roll any male that crosses my path? Well, other than the obvious methods of relief, which I'm not going to get into, I flirt. Mercilessly. Relentlessly. And it doesn't matter WHO, it doesn't matter what Gender, or age, Race, Whatever. I'm the macking princess of Vancouver BC. and I've developed a fine art form with flirtation. I'll be coy, I'll be devilish, I'll be whatever works best establishing a repetoire with the person I'm flirting with at that moment in time. The only thing I'm NOT, is crude. Well, not usually. I can be blunt, but I'm not crass about it.
For those of you that have experienced my methods of Flirtation, Dev, Dean, Jerilyn, Mike G, Marty, Mitch, Fenris, River Rat, you know exactly what I'm talking about. There's NOTHING like a good flirt session. Nothing. It soothes that savage beast inside my head... And my loins. If I can't get action, I'll flirt. It's good enough for me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go flirt with my sweetheart.
Do you know what I resort to, when taken to that limit of my endurance, when I'm ready to rock and roll any male that crosses my path? Well, other than the obvious methods of relief, which I'm not going to get into, I flirt. Mercilessly. Relentlessly. And it doesn't matter WHO, it doesn't matter what Gender, or age, Race, Whatever. I'm the macking princess of Vancouver BC. and I've developed a fine art form with flirtation. I'll be coy, I'll be devilish, I'll be whatever works best establishing a repetoire with the person I'm flirting with at that moment in time. The only thing I'm NOT, is crude. Well, not usually. I can be blunt, but I'm not crass about it.
For those of you that have experienced my methods of Flirtation, Dev, Dean, Jerilyn, Mike G, Marty, Mitch, Fenris, River Rat, you know exactly what I'm talking about. There's NOTHING like a good flirt session. Nothing. It soothes that savage beast inside my head... And my loins. If I can't get action, I'll flirt. It's good enough for me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go flirt with my sweetheart.
The New York Saga Continues.
So I'm staying in Brooklyn, and working in Manhattan. The first week I was there working, I was staying at Vivian and Greg's place, which was a tiny bachelor suite, that, no word of a lie, was about 150 square feet. That's it. I was sleeping on an air mattress that was having a hard time staying inflated, and working about 16 hour days, every day, editing literature, writing newspaper articles, making long distance phone calls from the Manhattan office to Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver, where the three chapters of my organization were located in Canada. The fact that my air mattress didn't stay inflated mattered naught to me, I was so bagged that before my head hit the pillow at ten pm, I was out until six am the next morning. my body clock was so screwed from travelling across the US in three weeks, that it didn't know what time it was, other than "Now is the time to sleep" and "Your alarm clock is going off. Get the hell up."
I took the subway with Viv most mornings, and one day she had to get to work earlier than I did. (She was the assistant to the treasurer of the organization.) So I was on my own, and I assured her that I was "just fine" finding my way there on my own. Sure, Linds. Sure.
I get on the train, which was about three blocks from Viv and Greg's apartment, and I know that I have to transfer. At that point in time, New York was going through one of the biggest, Hottest heatwaves in existance, and I can assure you that going into the subways during a scorching heat wave, is like descending into the seven levels of hell. The air is stagnant, unbelievably hot, and reeked of garbage. The sky was a murky brown orange colour, from the pollution, and from the clouds that hung low and heavy over the city. I didn't know what that betokened, and soon found out.
I got off at my station, after transferring trains, and bewildered and lost, (which is odd for me, I usually have my sense of direction down pat) I looked around. I can honestly admit, that I was pretty terrified, being in one of the biggest, busiest cities in the world, during rush hour. walking along, wearing shorts and a t shirt, I was hesitant to ask the locals the right direction to go to get to my street, but did anyways. I didn't know that to some locals, it's a game to direct the people that are obvious tourists the wrong way. I don't hold a grudge on it though, because what happened next, was lovely.
The skies opened up, and water just started DUMPING down on my head. The smell of cement, that had been dry, begging for water for weeks, is an unmistakable smell. It's actually one I quite like. So I'm walking down the Italian district, towards the Village, and the smell of cement getting wet is pervasive, all around me. I finally found my work, after recognizing the area, and I was soaked to the skin. I was grinning like an idiot, and was actually singing in the rain. How cliche.
To this day, the smell of wet cement reminds me of New York.
The song up on the server right now is "Manic Star", by Conjure One. Great designing music.
I took the subway with Viv most mornings, and one day she had to get to work earlier than I did. (She was the assistant to the treasurer of the organization.) So I was on my own, and I assured her that I was "just fine" finding my way there on my own. Sure, Linds. Sure.
I get on the train, which was about three blocks from Viv and Greg's apartment, and I know that I have to transfer. At that point in time, New York was going through one of the biggest, Hottest heatwaves in existance, and I can assure you that going into the subways during a scorching heat wave, is like descending into the seven levels of hell. The air is stagnant, unbelievably hot, and reeked of garbage. The sky was a murky brown orange colour, from the pollution, and from the clouds that hung low and heavy over the city. I didn't know what that betokened, and soon found out.
I got off at my station, after transferring trains, and bewildered and lost, (which is odd for me, I usually have my sense of direction down pat) I looked around. I can honestly admit, that I was pretty terrified, being in one of the biggest, busiest cities in the world, during rush hour. walking along, wearing shorts and a t shirt, I was hesitant to ask the locals the right direction to go to get to my street, but did anyways. I didn't know that to some locals, it's a game to direct the people that are obvious tourists the wrong way. I don't hold a grudge on it though, because what happened next, was lovely.
The skies opened up, and water just started DUMPING down on my head. The smell of cement, that had been dry, begging for water for weeks, is an unmistakable smell. It's actually one I quite like. So I'm walking down the Italian district, towards the Village, and the smell of cement getting wet is pervasive, all around me. I finally found my work, after recognizing the area, and I was soaked to the skin. I was grinning like an idiot, and was actually singing in the rain. How cliche.
To this day, the smell of wet cement reminds me of New York.
The song up on the server right now is "Manic Star", by Conjure One. Great designing music.
Hello, Darlings!!
I've got a girlfriend stopping by with a Venti 7 pump Vanilla latte from Starbucks in about an hour, and I'm wanting it like a fat kid wants cake. I'm also putting up a new song on the server.
Now, just to be a pain in the ass, I picked a song that has the longest title IMAGINABLE. It's called "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand" by the Primitive Radio Gods.
This is a fantastic tune, and if you listen, and know your blues, you can hear the B.B. King samples throughout. For the people my age, you'll remember this fondly. it came out in the mid 90s, and was hugely popular.
Next half an hour I've got a continuation of my New York Saga, it kinda got blown to the winds for a while there, while I was panicking over possibly having to cover for Dev while his Laptop adapter decided to go to the Happy Hunting Grounds.
So While I'm preparing to type my fool fingers off, go have a listen to this phenomenal tune. Once again it's "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand" by the Primitive Radio Gods.
Now, just to be a pain in the ass, I picked a song that has the longest title IMAGINABLE. It's called "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand" by the Primitive Radio Gods.
This is a fantastic tune, and if you listen, and know your blues, you can hear the B.B. King samples throughout. For the people my age, you'll remember this fondly. it came out in the mid 90s, and was hugely popular.
Next half an hour I've got a continuation of my New York Saga, it kinda got blown to the winds for a while there, while I was panicking over possibly having to cover for Dev while his Laptop adapter decided to go to the Happy Hunting Grounds.
So While I'm preparing to type my fool fingers off, go have a listen to this phenomenal tune. Once again it's "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand" by the Primitive Radio Gods.
Hour 13.5, Baby!
And I'm still rocking. Pledges are up a staggering amount, and I can't thank you guys enough. This is for SUCH a good cause, and I'm proud to call you guys my friends! Thank-you!
Justin and Jerilyn send me this pic, via Email, and it's precious. I couldn't resist posting it. The thanks should be going YOUR way, for helping me out!!
I *Must* be a Masochist.
Because, despite the rather painful ache in my shoulders, I'm actually enjoying myself a great deal right now. Special thanks to Mr. Pike, for stopping in to write up a lovely story for me, and letting me wear my stillettos into his territory. Hopefully I didn't leave divots in the grass. In honour of his visit, and his attempt to wear a pair of my shoes, even though he's VERY decidedly straight, (and I should know...) I've picked a *very* special song, from one of the "musicals" that has a huge cult following.
Have an idea of what musical I'm talking about? Any idea at all?
Ah, I'll let you figure it out on your own. If you don't know, leave a comment, and if you do, I hope to hell you sing along.
Go have a listen.
Have an idea of what musical I'm talking about? Any idea at all?
Ah, I'll let you figure it out on your own. If you don't know, leave a comment, and if you do, I hope to hell you sing along.
Go have a listen.
Stays Mainly On The Plain
Greetings. I'm Devin, your host for the next half-hour. Please keep all hands and feet inside the browser at all times. (Sounds kind of like the Hokey Pokey.)
While heading to Los Angeles this week for X Games 11, I'm looking over research material with the host of the show I'm working for these days, Richard Hunter. We're reading bios for everyone when I remember that my bag has a copy of the current ESPN the Magazine (not to be confused with ESPN the Coffee Grinder). The cover story has Mat Hoffman, Moto X honcho supreme.
Hoffman has been knocked out, shredded, bruised and contorted more times than I care to count. I used to think I had a high pain threshold until I read this article. The centerpiece of the spread is Hoffman talking about a surgery he went through to replace ligaments in his pummeled knee with polyester cords.
See, the operation was highly illegal, but Mat wanted to continue his career. So, he went along with it, and didn't bat an eye when the quack doing the procedure asked Mat to do it without anesthesia. This means that when Doctor Feelbad is drilling into Mat's knee, Hoffman can smell the burning bone.
I'll let you catch up a bit, because there's a reason I bring all of this up.
The place where Hoffman went to have this surgery done?
CANADA.
Even as everyone crows about nationalized surgery, and how much better the model is in the Great White North than here... you still have "doctors" asking you to hold the drill in place while a screw is tightened. I can't make this up if I tried.
OH, CANADA. OUR HOME AND SADIST LAAAAAAND...
Enjoy the rest of the Blogathon, kids. Linds is phenomenal, and I have no idea where O would be without her. Cheers!
Oh, my song for the hour? A little vintage Betty Blowtorch. Bow down before Bianca Butthole, ya cretins!
While heading to Los Angeles this week for X Games 11, I'm looking over research material with the host of the show I'm working for these days, Richard Hunter. We're reading bios for everyone when I remember that my bag has a copy of the current ESPN the Magazine (not to be confused with ESPN the Coffee Grinder). The cover story has Mat Hoffman, Moto X honcho supreme.
Hoffman has been knocked out, shredded, bruised and contorted more times than I care to count. I used to think I had a high pain threshold until I read this article. The centerpiece of the spread is Hoffman talking about a surgery he went through to replace ligaments in his pummeled knee with polyester cords.
See, the operation was highly illegal, but Mat wanted to continue his career. So, he went along with it, and didn't bat an eye when the quack doing the procedure asked Mat to do it without anesthesia. This means that when Doctor Feelbad is drilling into Mat's knee, Hoffman can smell the burning bone.
I'll let you catch up a bit, because there's a reason I bring all of this up.
The place where Hoffman went to have this surgery done?
CANADA.
Even as everyone crows about nationalized surgery, and how much better the model is in the Great White North than here... you still have "doctors" asking you to hold the drill in place while a screw is tightened. I can't make this up if I tried.
OH, CANADA. OUR HOME AND SADIST LAAAAAAND...
Enjoy the rest of the Blogathon, kids. Linds is phenomenal, and I have no idea where O would be without her. Cheers!
Oh, my song for the hour? A little vintage Betty Blowtorch. Bow down before Bianca Butthole, ya cretins!
Once again...
Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, I present the Clyde to my Bonnie, The heart of my hearts, the man who makes my heart go Pit-a-pat, one Mr. Devin Pike.
I'll be over at his swamplog blogathon 2005 page, shattering some illusions that some Americans seem to have developed about Canada. See you at 7 my time. While I'm gone, let's hope Devin doesn't trash the joint. *winks*
I'll be over at his swamplog blogathon 2005 page, shattering some illusions that some Americans seem to have developed about Canada. See you at 7 my time. While I'm gone, let's hope Devin doesn't trash the joint. *winks*
What the Deuce?
That man amazes me. he pulls his ass out of the fire despite the odds. I think he has a horseshoe lodged up there.
At any rate, I've been chatting online with my dear friend Erik, who's the GSD music host for my podcasts, and the tunes here today. Erik is NOT happy in the suburbs of Ontario, being a vegetarian, being someone that thinks on another level of thinking than your average Joe Shmoe, and the title of the entry here, is just for him. Thank you Erik, for everything you've done for me. You rock the known universe.
I'm also walking Jerilyn and Justin, my ever so generous compadres in Irving Tx, through the donation process on the Blogathon website since I think it's designed to confuse the hell out of people when they decide to pledge. I had to do the same thing for Ian, when he decided to pledge to get those pictures of my "Glamazons from the past".
The tune for you guys up on the server right now is "I'll Take You There" by The Staple Singers.
Enjoy.
At any rate, I've been chatting online with my dear friend Erik, who's the GSD music host for my podcasts, and the tunes here today. Erik is NOT happy in the suburbs of Ontario, being a vegetarian, being someone that thinks on another level of thinking than your average Joe Shmoe, and the title of the entry here, is just for him. Thank you Erik, for everything you've done for me. You rock the known universe.
I'm also walking Jerilyn and Justin, my ever so generous compadres in Irving Tx, through the donation process on the Blogathon website since I think it's designed to confuse the hell out of people when they decide to pledge. I had to do the same thing for Ian, when he decided to pledge to get those pictures of my "Glamazons from the past".
The tune for you guys up on the server right now is "I'll Take You There" by The Staple Singers.
Enjoy.
Ach! Poor Devin!
Talk about pissy timing.
Devin, my partner in crime, has been kaiboshed in LA, doing some "work" for the P1 Wild Ass Circus. Now, he knew what sorta trouble he was getting into, doing the blogathon the same weekend that his trip to LA came up and surprised him with, yet he agreed to do both at once.
My poor Devin. I just got word from our mutual amigo Mike G. (Thanks for the phenomenal post, by the way, sweets.) that his laptop croaked on him, about 11 hours into his participation on the 'thon. My only reaction when Mike informed me was "Oh, fuck." Let's hope D gets some computer action going on, or I might be pulling double duty for Mr. Pike.
He has managed ways of pulling his cute ass out of the fire before, so I'm sure he can do it again. Good Luck Dev!
Devin, my partner in crime, has been kaiboshed in LA, doing some "work" for the P1 Wild Ass Circus. Now, he knew what sorta trouble he was getting into, doing the blogathon the same weekend that his trip to LA came up and surprised him with, yet he agreed to do both at once.
My poor Devin. I just got word from our mutual amigo Mike G. (Thanks for the phenomenal post, by the way, sweets.) that his laptop croaked on him, about 11 hours into his participation on the 'thon. My only reaction when Mike informed me was "Oh, fuck." Let's hope D gets some computer action going on, or I might be pulling double duty for Mr. Pike.
He has managed ways of pulling his cute ass out of the fire before, so I'm sure he can do it again. Good Luck Dev!
Whoops.
Almost forgot.
For your listening pleasure, direct from Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne, Here are The Poets of The Fall with their hit A Late Goodbye.
Courage,
Mike G.
For your listening pleasure, direct from Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne, Here are The Poets of The Fall with their hit A Late Goodbye.
Courage,
Mike G.
Insuring Prompt Service...
Hi there.
Mike G. here, filling in for the lovely Linds.
p.s. Thanks for letting me run around in your sandbox.
Before I start, I want to say I have nothing against all the hard workers in the service industry. I only have a few questions about the system in which they operate.
I have very little skill in the kitchen. If it didn't come in a bag ready for boiling or prefrozen, I've got trouble. So I go to restaraunts pretty often. Now, I rarely go anywhere considered fancy, so that's out of the discussion. So here's my question:
At what point do I start to pay directly for my service?
I ask that because as anyone in the service world will tell you, they get paid squat [or less than, depending where you live]. They argue that the tip is what allows them to make a living. I don't dispute that, and even share in a little of that blame. If business owners were forced to pay a living wage, the argument goes, prices would skyrocket, and noone would go out to eat. But if I'm subsidizing the labor, why haven't the prices gone down?
Fine.
So, exactly what is the current wage paying for? Let's take your average waitperson as an example. Am I wrong in expecting that person to take my order correctly? If I order a drink, should I expect only one or two refills, and pay extra if I get more? Is stuff like that covered by their hourly wage?
Somewhere along the line, the tip changed into something akin to a hidden fee.
I'm not saying that service shouldn't be rewarded. If I want substitutions or a special order, I'm not boorish enough to not realize that takes additional effort.
Now if I don't recieve special treatment, I'm still expected to tip. If I go the grocery store and buy a loaf of bread, I'm not expected to kick in an extra dime because it wasn't smashed up by the stocker.
All I'm asking for is some sort of chart or maybe a graph.
Oh man, I hope Linds still talks to me after this is over,
Courage,
Mike G.
Mike G. here, filling in for the lovely Linds.
p.s. Thanks for letting me run around in your sandbox.
Before I start, I want to say I have nothing against all the hard workers in the service industry. I only have a few questions about the system in which they operate.
I have very little skill in the kitchen. If it didn't come in a bag ready for boiling or prefrozen, I've got trouble. So I go to restaraunts pretty often. Now, I rarely go anywhere considered fancy, so that's out of the discussion. So here's my question:
At what point do I start to pay directly for my service?
I ask that because as anyone in the service world will tell you, they get paid squat [or less than, depending where you live]. They argue that the tip is what allows them to make a living. I don't dispute that, and even share in a little of that blame. If business owners were forced to pay a living wage, the argument goes, prices would skyrocket, and noone would go out to eat. But if I'm subsidizing the labor, why haven't the prices gone down?
Fine.
So, exactly what is the current wage paying for? Let's take your average waitperson as an example. Am I wrong in expecting that person to take my order correctly? If I order a drink, should I expect only one or two refills, and pay extra if I get more? Is stuff like that covered by their hourly wage?
Somewhere along the line, the tip changed into something akin to a hidden fee.
I'm not saying that service shouldn't be rewarded. If I want substitutions or a special order, I'm not boorish enough to not realize that takes additional effort.
Now if I don't recieve special treatment, I'm still expected to tip. If I go the grocery store and buy a loaf of bread, I'm not expected to kick in an extra dime because it wasn't smashed up by the stocker.
All I'm asking for is some sort of chart or maybe a graph.
Oh man, I hope Linds still talks to me after this is over,
Courage,
Mike G.
Introducing...
The impeccable, the eminently lovable, the very cuddly, comic genius that is Mr. Mike G., who is very welcome in Glamazon Shoe Territory. He has a hall pass.
Direct from the Churn Nation, to your computer.
Enjoy. I'm going to try to score up some photographs of the dungeon for you guys, and stretch my legs. My ass is definitely numb.
Direct from the Churn Nation, to your computer.
Enjoy. I'm going to try to score up some photographs of the dungeon for you guys, and stretch my legs. My ass is definitely numb.
Because my Grandma Loves Me.
She made me dinner. It's never complicated, it's always simple comfort food, this time around it's mushroom sauce, browned ground beef, and macaroni, but it always makes me grin, and it fills the hole. Considering she makes enough of it to fill the grand canyon. We have it in the freezer for at least a month afterwards as leftovers, not that I mind. I've had bananas for breakfast and lunch and was starting to get a wee bit cranky. Hey, I'm human. I get cranky. I'm not always the sunshine and rainbows sprinkled with cynicism and flirtation that you guys see most of the time.
I remember writing a long time ago, in a post in here, about how Blogathon gives the usual readers of the blog participants an even deeper look into the psyche of the person that writes it. Since I'm usually no or very little holds barred type of gal, I think you're going to get a pretty good look at what makes my mind tick. Lo'd only knows what inhibitions are going to be eased after about two am my time. I'm almost afraid.
I remember writing a long time ago, in a post in here, about how Blogathon gives the usual readers of the blog participants an even deeper look into the psyche of the person that writes it. Since I'm usually no or very little holds barred type of gal, I think you're going to get a pretty good look at what makes my mind tick. Lo'd only knows what inhibitions are going to be eased after about two am my time. I'm almost afraid.
Lucky Red Riding Hood.
Little red Riding hood is walking down the path to her Grandmothers house, and a squirrel pops out of the bush, squeaking;
"Little Red Riding Hood! Little Red Riding Hood! Don't go down there! The Big Bad Wolf is there, and he's out to GET YOU!"
Little Red Riding Hood looks at the cute brown squirrel, and pats it on the head, saying:
"Oh, I'm not worried about HIM anymore. Just you see, cute little squirrel."
She continues walking down the path, without a care in the world, and the BIG BAD WOLF pops out and grabs her around the waist, pulling her close, his carrion breath wafting across her face. He growls in her ear:
"I've got you now, Little Red Riding Hood. Right where I want you, and I'm going to pinch your little titties."
Smirking, and showing not an ounce of fear, The pretty Little Red Riding Hood opens her basket, and pulls out a long, sleek automatic. Pointing it at his head, she says:
"Oh no you're not. You're going to Eat me, Like it says in the book."
---------------------
Joke aside, do you guys know the history and meaning behind the story of Little Red Riding Hood?
I do.
The story was created to warn parents to protect the virginity of their daughters. Interesting, no?
There's a new song up on the server, at it's scheduled time, it's "Groove Me" by King Floyd. Nothing gets me grooving better than Funk.
"Little Red Riding Hood! Little Red Riding Hood! Don't go down there! The Big Bad Wolf is there, and he's out to GET YOU!"
Little Red Riding Hood looks at the cute brown squirrel, and pats it on the head, saying:
"Oh, I'm not worried about HIM anymore. Just you see, cute little squirrel."
She continues walking down the path, without a care in the world, and the BIG BAD WOLF pops out and grabs her around the waist, pulling her close, his carrion breath wafting across her face. He growls in her ear:
"I've got you now, Little Red Riding Hood. Right where I want you, and I'm going to pinch your little titties."
Smirking, and showing not an ounce of fear, The pretty Little Red Riding Hood opens her basket, and pulls out a long, sleek automatic. Pointing it at his head, she says:
"Oh no you're not. You're going to Eat me, Like it says in the book."
---------------------
Joke aside, do you guys know the history and meaning behind the story of Little Red Riding Hood?
I do.
The story was created to warn parents to protect the virginity of their daughters. Interesting, no?
There's a new song up on the server, at it's scheduled time, it's "Groove Me" by King Floyd. Nothing gets me grooving better than Funk.
Back in The Saddle Again.
And just for the hell of it, I'm going to post up another song, a whole half an hour earlier than expected. better bang for your buck, I guess.
At any rate, this song got me back on track, I was starting to flag momentarily there. I'm now booty shaking, Glamazon yet again, and I'm rocking out to Sly and the Family stone, from the album "Different strokes, by different folks" the new one released about a month ago.
I present to you, Love City, with Moby, produced by Sly. It's got that traditional Moby feel to it, which I dig the hell out of, to borrow a phrase.
Have a listen here.
At any rate, this song got me back on track, I was starting to flag momentarily there. I'm now booty shaking, Glamazon yet again, and I'm rocking out to Sly and the Family stone, from the album "Different strokes, by different folks" the new one released about a month ago.
I present to you, Love City, with Moby, produced by Sly. It's got that traditional Moby feel to it, which I dig the hell out of, to borrow a phrase.
Have a listen here.
Jeebus.
You never realize how fast the day can move, when you have to write every half an hour, and when you have a restriction of half an hour to come up with something creative to say. I've never had to write for the sake of writing, and thanks be to the gods that I can type quickly.
I'm honestly running out of ideas at this moment in time. I'm sure I'll refuel my brain in the next hour or so, and Mike G coming in and giving me a momentary approximate 45 minute break at 5 pm my time is muchas appreciated.
I have a few questions for you guys.
How do you grow seedless watermelons?
Why do we park in a driveway, and drive in a parkway?
Why, when we look at words over and over again, do they seem to lose coherency, and make absolutely no sense, just looking stupid after a while? And is this only the English language that does it, or is it any word, when it's your native tongue?
Ach. I dunno. At any rate, if you feel like answering these questions, feel free to comment. it's getting a little lonely in here. *pouts*
Ive also come to the conclusion that I don't have a Blogathon Site Monitor. Or if I do, they are remarkably silent.
The song up on the server for the next hour is "Triple Trouble" by the Beastie Boys. Enjoy.
I'm honestly running out of ideas at this moment in time. I'm sure I'll refuel my brain in the next hour or so, and Mike G coming in and giving me a momentary approximate 45 minute break at 5 pm my time is muchas appreciated.
I have a few questions for you guys.
How do you grow seedless watermelons?
Why do we park in a driveway, and drive in a parkway?
Why, when we look at words over and over again, do they seem to lose coherency, and make absolutely no sense, just looking stupid after a while? And is this only the English language that does it, or is it any word, when it's your native tongue?
Ach. I dunno. At any rate, if you feel like answering these questions, feel free to comment. it's getting a little lonely in here. *pouts*
Ive also come to the conclusion that I don't have a Blogathon Site Monitor. Or if I do, they are remarkably silent.
The song up on the server for the next hour is "Triple Trouble" by the Beastie Boys. Enjoy.
Sensory Overload.
I'm a person who is riveted to my senses. I revel in the taste of chocolate on my tongue. For me, touching skin is the same as how petting a cat is relaxing to people. I enjoy good food, good music, and good conversation. I'll dip my feet off of the end of the dock, and while I'm a little freaked at swimming in freshwater, (sad, I know) I love the feeling of the sandy edge of a beach in between my toes. *winks at Chris Strange* I enjoy other things between my toes, too.
I try to be the person that will stop and smell the roses. Or lilies, which happen to be my favourite scented flower. I revel in colour. My tattoos will attest to that, excepting the kanji running down my spine which is made to look like brushwork, and is only black ink. All told I have nine tattoos, and four of them are in full colour, with no less than seven colours in each, and the one on my lower back, which is a dragon with tattered butterfly wings, has eleven colours in it.
I enjoy the feeling of getting a tattoo, surprisingly enough, the mild shock of pain leading into the euphoria of adrenaline rushing through my body, much like a jogger on a runner's high. It's a unique feeling. When I was getting the Kanji done on my back, I sat there for an hour, while my tattoo artist started at the top of my lower back tattoo, and worked her way up my back. I didn't cry, but I didn't talk, either.
The same can be said for body piercings, which don't hurt as much as you would think, comparatively to tattoo work, the pain from a piercing is instantaneous, but quick, and fades just as quickly. You're tender for a few days, (depending on what you get done) and the swelling is the most irritating part of body piercing. Tattoo work feels like a rather bad sunburn for a week or so, but after that, if you're conscientious, and take care of yourself, you've got a beautiful piece of artwork on your skin. It's not for everyone, but it's definitely for me.
I try to be the person that will stop and smell the roses. Or lilies, which happen to be my favourite scented flower. I revel in colour. My tattoos will attest to that, excepting the kanji running down my spine which is made to look like brushwork, and is only black ink. All told I have nine tattoos, and four of them are in full colour, with no less than seven colours in each, and the one on my lower back, which is a dragon with tattered butterfly wings, has eleven colours in it.
I enjoy the feeling of getting a tattoo, surprisingly enough, the mild shock of pain leading into the euphoria of adrenaline rushing through my body, much like a jogger on a runner's high. It's a unique feeling. When I was getting the Kanji done on my back, I sat there for an hour, while my tattoo artist started at the top of my lower back tattoo, and worked her way up my back. I didn't cry, but I didn't talk, either.
The same can be said for body piercings, which don't hurt as much as you would think, comparatively to tattoo work, the pain from a piercing is instantaneous, but quick, and fades just as quickly. You're tender for a few days, (depending on what you get done) and the swelling is the most irritating part of body piercing. Tattoo work feels like a rather bad sunburn for a week or so, but after that, if you're conscientious, and take care of yourself, you've got a beautiful piece of artwork on your skin. It's not for everyone, but it's definitely for me.
Enough about the guest posters already!!
Okay, okay!
So, I could give you another teaser about New York, and my political misadventures.
I was at the height of my game, politically, and was enjoying speaking to hundreds of different listeners, with all sorts of ethnic and socio-politcal backgrounds, I was attending "Plant gate" sales, outside factories at four in the morning, selling books from Malcom X, Martin Luther King Jr. and numerous feminist authors to workers going in and out of the gates during shift switches. Truth be told I enjoyed it quite a bit, and I probably opened a lot of peoples eyes to a lot of really revolutionary writers. That's the thing I enjoyed the most, I think. The fact that people had the opportunity to read MLK jr.'s speeches, and not just the "I have a dream" one that is famous, but there's a period after that speech, ten years long, where MLK jr's speeches and writings, protesting the way the the government was not only treating blacks, but the poor, protesting the war in Vietnam, a myriad of other things. Things that the media, and the government didn't want publicized, to see these people reading the words of this influential speaker, this revolutionary man.
I still get a thrill reading his writings. Malcom X was one of the other revolutionary individuals who I respect tremendous amounts. Not even my shitty treatment by the organization I was in at the time I left (I'll get into that more later) could ruin the way that these men thought, and the way that they influenced the world with their writings.
More to come on this later today.
The song dished up on the server for this hour of audio entertainment is Son of A Preacher Man, by Dusty Sprinfield.
Enjoy.
So, I could give you another teaser about New York, and my political misadventures.
I was at the height of my game, politically, and was enjoying speaking to hundreds of different listeners, with all sorts of ethnic and socio-politcal backgrounds, I was attending "Plant gate" sales, outside factories at four in the morning, selling books from Malcom X, Martin Luther King Jr. and numerous feminist authors to workers going in and out of the gates during shift switches. Truth be told I enjoyed it quite a bit, and I probably opened a lot of peoples eyes to a lot of really revolutionary writers. That's the thing I enjoyed the most, I think. The fact that people had the opportunity to read MLK jr.'s speeches, and not just the "I have a dream" one that is famous, but there's a period after that speech, ten years long, where MLK jr's speeches and writings, protesting the way the the government was not only treating blacks, but the poor, protesting the war in Vietnam, a myriad of other things. Things that the media, and the government didn't want publicized, to see these people reading the words of this influential speaker, this revolutionary man.
I still get a thrill reading his writings. Malcom X was one of the other revolutionary individuals who I respect tremendous amounts. Not even my shitty treatment by the organization I was in at the time I left (I'll get into that more later) could ruin the way that these men thought, and the way that they influenced the world with their writings.
More to come on this later today.
The song dished up on the server for this hour of audio entertainment is Son of A Preacher Man, by Dusty Sprinfield.
Enjoy.
All Signs Point To Yes.
Mike G. from Churn has generously agreed to write a post for your guys' entertainment at five pm Pacific time while I'm checking out the bachelor pad at Churn, as well as my mystery guest poster at six thirty. Gosh what a nice guy Mike is. I have NO idea what this man is going to write in here, so all bets are off. However, if you see some scantily clad busty nymphs on here, well that's his perogative. Guys, I figure you'll like that, and just for any ladies reading, I'll be sure to post up a picture of a very lovely looking male for you to ogle. Turnabout is fair play, but I hope you're preferential to brunettes. I'll see if I can con Cryptic (Daniel) from Don't Feed The Monkeys to donate a picture for the cause. Trust me, it's worth seeing. He's one hot Aussie. Mmmm. *Gets lost in daydreams.*
Oh! Shit, sorry guys. you're still here. Yeah. *Fans herself* Where was I?
Oh yeah, guest posters. Well, that issue's been covered well enough. Things were chaotic and panic stricken here for about an hour. For those of you that don't ever limit yourself writing, this is definitely a challenge, both to write a piece that takes less than fifteen minutes to write, (because your not sitting here the whole damned time, I mean honestly. sometimes you gotta take a walk and get the blood flowing back into your ass) coming up with content, as well as having it make sense, and doing it in that time limit is really challenging.
At any rate, see you guys in half an hour!
Oh! Shit, sorry guys. you're still here. Yeah. *Fans herself* Where was I?
Oh yeah, guest posters. Well, that issue's been covered well enough. Things were chaotic and panic stricken here for about an hour. For those of you that don't ever limit yourself writing, this is definitely a challenge, both to write a piece that takes less than fifteen minutes to write, (because your not sitting here the whole damned time, I mean honestly. sometimes you gotta take a walk and get the blood flowing back into your ass) coming up with content, as well as having it make sense, and doing it in that time limit is really challenging.
At any rate, see you guys in half an hour!
So...
At about three thirty Pacific, (that's six thirty, East coaster time) I have a guest poster coming in, and we're swapping tour de force for that half an hour of posting time. The Identity of said guest poster is going to be witheld for a while yet, until a few moments before their own commentary in here. It should be fun, and I've already got the thought in my head as to what I'm going to write about in their blog. All I can say, is that they are an amazingly talented writer, and I'm highly flattered that they requested a trade off. I can also say I told you so, and that I haven't been making them up for the past year or so, since they never comment on GSD.
Mike G, from Churn, has been keeping me company via Yahoo messenger for the past few hours, barring a trip out to lunch for him, and bathroom breaks for me. He's good company, and keeps me laughing most of the time. I tossed the notion for my guest post under his nose, and he proclaimed it good, and smelling sweetly of lavender. Okay. not really, but he thinks it's a good idea. If he's fly with the suggestion I tossed at him, I might even have him post a spot in here as well, though, I've been trying to convince him that though HE might appreciate pictures of a certain british model, not all of my readers are male. That being said, I'm sure the Mayor, Fenris, River Rat, and the myriad of OTHER readers I have wouldn't mind the detour.
The song for the hour is "Listen To Your Heart" by DHT. A lovely trance cover.
Enjoy.
Mike G, from Churn, has been keeping me company via Yahoo messenger for the past few hours, barring a trip out to lunch for him, and bathroom breaks for me. He's good company, and keeps me laughing most of the time. I tossed the notion for my guest post under his nose, and he proclaimed it good, and smelling sweetly of lavender. Okay. not really, but he thinks it's a good idea. If he's fly with the suggestion I tossed at him, I might even have him post a spot in here as well, though, I've been trying to convince him that though HE might appreciate pictures of a certain british model, not all of my readers are male. That being said, I'm sure the Mayor, Fenris, River Rat, and the myriad of OTHER readers I have wouldn't mind the detour.
The song for the hour is "Listen To Your Heart" by DHT. A lovely trance cover.
Enjoy.
For The Love Of Chai!!
Have you ever had a cup of Chai tea with honey and cream in it? It tastes like liquid love. And no, not the liquid love most of you are familiar with. There is no wet spot to avoid lying in afterwards. Unfortunately, this liquid love is moving at an exponential rate through my body. I think the caffiene in it has boosted my body production... Not that you needed to know that.
At any rate, here's some stuff I was doing in photoshop, playing around with my "Glamazon's from the Past" images, that my mom is doing the original sketches of. This is the original image of Betty Grable, famed blonde bombshell from the 1940's, and the woman with the "Million Dollar Legs".
And THIS, is what I did. it's subtle, but I think it brings out another dimension in the image.
At any rate, here's some stuff I was doing in photoshop, playing around with my "Glamazon's from the Past" images, that my mom is doing the original sketches of. This is the original image of Betty Grable, famed blonde bombshell from the 1940's, and the woman with the "Million Dollar Legs".
And THIS, is what I did. it's subtle, but I think it brings out another dimension in the image.
Back In The Day...
When I was but a mere 19 year old, I was a member of a political youth organization that shall remain unnamed, pretty much for the reason that they are a crap organization, with poor leadership, and I'd rather not direct traffic their way. Hey, I'm not always nice.
At any rate, the best part of being in this organization was the fact that I got to travel all over the United States, as a guest speaker from Vancouver. Much like I was being paraded around like some fanciful menagerie creature that was a rarity, or something. Not that I minded, I enjoy speaking in public, and developed a panache for it. Most of the topics I spoke on circled around the issue of Women's Liberation, and feminism. Being a chick, and a very opinionated one (at the same time, I was openminded), it was fairly obvious as to where my political angles lay.
I spoke at a couple of events in San Francisco, I spoke at a convention in Santa Cruz, (which is a gorgeous university campus in California, and I'd give my left tit to go there) I spoke at The Oberlin Campus in Ohio, at the bookstore owned by this political group in Chicago, and did a few seminars and guest spots in panels in New York City, while I was working in the publishing house that made the weekly political newspaper and the books that were sold at the bookstores around Canada and the US.
This isn't me braggin', this is a prelude to another segment later on, during the 'thon, where I'm going to tell you guys a few stories about my experiences. What's reading a blog but living through someone else vicariously anyways?
More to come in a while.
Meanwhile, the song up on the server, is Jamiroquai, "Just Dance".
Enjoy.
At any rate, the best part of being in this organization was the fact that I got to travel all over the United States, as a guest speaker from Vancouver. Much like I was being paraded around like some fanciful menagerie creature that was a rarity, or something. Not that I minded, I enjoy speaking in public, and developed a panache for it. Most of the topics I spoke on circled around the issue of Women's Liberation, and feminism. Being a chick, and a very opinionated one (at the same time, I was openminded), it was fairly obvious as to where my political angles lay.
I spoke at a couple of events in San Francisco, I spoke at a convention in Santa Cruz, (which is a gorgeous university campus in California, and I'd give my left tit to go there) I spoke at The Oberlin Campus in Ohio, at the bookstore owned by this political group in Chicago, and did a few seminars and guest spots in panels in New York City, while I was working in the publishing house that made the weekly political newspaper and the books that were sold at the bookstores around Canada and the US.
This isn't me braggin', this is a prelude to another segment later on, during the 'thon, where I'm going to tell you guys a few stories about my experiences. What's reading a blog but living through someone else vicariously anyways?
More to come in a while.
Meanwhile, the song up on the server, is Jamiroquai, "Just Dance".
Enjoy.
Four-and-A-Half Hours In...
The Music Of the Moment: "Timeless" by Armen Van Buren (Genre: Trance)
And I think I'm doing pretty well. The only thing I have to say, is that Grape Gatorade Fierce, tastes like crap.
That, and I'm wondering if I have a Blogathon Site-Monitor. I haven't heard from them yet, and am curious. It's great to see people are commenting on GSD, I always get a little thrill with every comment. I'm a simple girl to please, really. I'm planning out my next major post, which is about one of my many experiences in NYC back in the day when I was about 19 on a political jaunt.
Stay tuned!
*kisses*
Linds.
And I think I'm doing pretty well. The only thing I have to say, is that Grape Gatorade Fierce, tastes like crap.
That, and I'm wondering if I have a Blogathon Site-Monitor. I haven't heard from them yet, and am curious. It's great to see people are commenting on GSD, I always get a little thrill with every comment. I'm a simple girl to please, really. I'm planning out my next major post, which is about one of my many experiences in NYC back in the day when I was about 19 on a political jaunt.
Stay tuned!
*kisses*
Linds.
My Ass Hurts, But I Had More Time To Rearrange The Office!!!
But barring a bit of a sore bottom (I've been walking around the house too. not to mention dancing to my tunes.) I'm still rip roaring ready to go.
I think I pulled my back (whoops) Note to self: Do not move a bookshelf with 140 books in it still. Dumbass.
No, I didn't pull my back. I'm built like a brick shithouse, and I've done way more hard labour moving stuff in the bakery. at any rate, I've moved my stereo from my bedroom into my office, since I'm going to need the music later on, and right now I'm listening to this. It's on the server right now, actually.
Oh, It's called "Pussy Control" and it's done by no one else, than Prince. Enjoy.
I think I pulled my back (whoops) Note to self: Do not move a bookshelf with 140 books in it still. Dumbass.
No, I didn't pull my back. I'm built like a brick shithouse, and I've done way more hard labour moving stuff in the bakery. at any rate, I've moved my stereo from my bedroom into my office, since I'm going to need the music later on, and right now I'm listening to this. It's on the server right now, actually.
Oh, It's called "Pussy Control" and it's done by no one else, than Prince. Enjoy.
As Requested...
Mike G, from Churn as requested I do my five favourites. Five favourite what's, I asked.
Five favourite cereals as a kid (And I'm still a kid a large portion of the time)
1. Honeycomb. Dude, seriously. THE awesomest cereal known to sugar lovers everywhere.
2. Alphabits The same as Honeycomb, but in LETTER form!! YESSS!!
3. Lucky Charms. I have a fondness for Irishmen that can tell a good story. Like Ian can. I've also got a thing for dehydrated marshmellows.
4. Brown sugar frosted Mini Wheats. Mmmm Mmmm good.
5. Pizza. Oh wait... That's not really a cereal, but it makes a damned good breakfast some days. And don't tell me you haven't tried it for breakfast, you're lying. Thats tantamount to saying you've never masturbated.
Five Foods that are Bad for me, that I LOVE.
1. Butter Chicken Curry, Basmati Rice, and a Garlic Naan bread. Oh Sweet, sweet curry. I require silence when having the first bite. It's a spiritual experience. It's also made with cream, butter, white basmati rice, white flour.... Soooo good to eat, SOoooo bad for you.
2. Backbacon, Pineapple, Mushroom and Double cheese Pizza. My standard. I don't dig pepperoni. I know there's some of you out there that think Pineapple on Pizza is wrong. I disagree.
3. Chocolate. Chocolate anything. Mmmm chocolate. Where did I put that chocolate?
4. Meat loaf. My grandma makes the best meat loaf known to humankind. Why? because it's meat, and cheese. Hell yes.
5. A 3 shot Latte with whole milk and 7 pumps of vanilla syrup. Because I'm no one-pump-chump, and sleep is for the weak. This is my go juice, 80 percent of the time I'm doing work. I'm having one delivered later on this evening, actually, by my galpal Crystal D. Thanks be to the gods.
Five favourite cereals as a kid (And I'm still a kid a large portion of the time)
1. Honeycomb. Dude, seriously. THE awesomest cereal known to sugar lovers everywhere.
2. Alphabits The same as Honeycomb, but in LETTER form!! YESSS!!
3. Lucky Charms. I have a fondness for Irishmen that can tell a good story. Like Ian can. I've also got a thing for dehydrated marshmellows.
4. Brown sugar frosted Mini Wheats. Mmmm Mmmm good.
5. Pizza. Oh wait... That's not really a cereal, but it makes a damned good breakfast some days. And don't tell me you haven't tried it for breakfast, you're lying. Thats tantamount to saying you've never masturbated.
Five Foods that are Bad for me, that I LOVE.
1. Butter Chicken Curry, Basmati Rice, and a Garlic Naan bread. Oh Sweet, sweet curry. I require silence when having the first bite. It's a spiritual experience. It's also made with cream, butter, white basmati rice, white flour.... Soooo good to eat, SOoooo bad for you.
2. Backbacon, Pineapple, Mushroom and Double cheese Pizza. My standard. I don't dig pepperoni. I know there's some of you out there that think Pineapple on Pizza is wrong. I disagree.
3. Chocolate. Chocolate anything. Mmmm chocolate. Where did I put that chocolate?
4. Meat loaf. My grandma makes the best meat loaf known to humankind. Why? because it's meat, and cheese. Hell yes.
5. A 3 shot Latte with whole milk and 7 pumps of vanilla syrup. Because I'm no one-pump-chump, and sleep is for the weak. This is my go juice, 80 percent of the time I'm doing work. I'm having one delivered later on this evening, actually, by my galpal Crystal D. Thanks be to the gods.
I was going to write "Cock" but didn't think that was appropriate.
Steers, Queers, and Manhattan Transfer.
Okay, no steers.
One of my best friends, and old roommates Ryan, hit me up with a song that I haven't heard in AGES, that we used to sing in choir. It's called "Java Jive", and it's an aquired taste, but this is something that we used to sing in school, and years afterwards. It's on the server right now.
It's done by the impeccable Manhattan Transfer, and I've got a story or three about NYC when I went there for some political doings when I was in my late teens. I've written about it before.
I'm bouncing back and forth between instant messages with half a dozen people, writing in here, and working madly in photoshop, and my initial concept to tidy my office, at this moment in time, has been waylaid half way through. However, I'm wondering if carpal tunnel syndrome can occur in a 24 hour span. I'm doing a helluva lot of typing.
At any rate, Ryan is pelting me with old memories, and requests to post gay porn. I think I'll refrain from posting gay porn, since I don't seem to have any on my computer, but the old memories are just fine to write about.
One of my best friends, and old roommates Ryan, hit me up with a song that I haven't heard in AGES, that we used to sing in choir. It's called "Java Jive", and it's an aquired taste, but this is something that we used to sing in school, and years afterwards. It's on the server right now.
It's done by the impeccable Manhattan Transfer, and I've got a story or three about NYC when I went there for some political doings when I was in my late teens. I've written about it before.
I'm bouncing back and forth between instant messages with half a dozen people, writing in here, and working madly in photoshop, and my initial concept to tidy my office, at this moment in time, has been waylaid half way through. However, I'm wondering if carpal tunnel syndrome can occur in a 24 hour span. I'm doing a helluva lot of typing.
At any rate, Ryan is pelting me with old memories, and requests to post gay porn. I think I'll refrain from posting gay porn, since I don't seem to have any on my computer, but the old memories are just fine to write about.
Just A Taste of Madame Lamarr.
And of my mother's artistic prowess. This is a copywritten image, so please don't duplicate it and use it for your own advantage. I feel like an arse posting it with a watermark on it, but I think you guys understand. Four of these go to the highest pledge participant for the GSD 'thon. Original signed art, to grace the walls of your humble abode. I wasn't underestimating my Mom's talent with the pencil. This is Hedy Lamarr, by the way.
Interesting fact about Hedy Lamarr. When Mel Brooks made the movie, Blazing Saddles, the villains character name was Hedly Lamarr. Hedy Lamarr actually sued Mel Brooks for using her name. When the production company asked what Brooks would do about her suing him, he said "Pay her, of course!" The bit was too funny to NOT use, according to Brooks.
Interesting fact about Hedy Lamarr. When Mel Brooks made the movie, Blazing Saddles, the villains character name was Hedly Lamarr. Hedy Lamarr actually sued Mel Brooks for using her name. When the production company asked what Brooks would do about her suing him, he said "Pay her, of course!" The bit was too funny to NOT use, according to Brooks.
Urgency!
The feeling of urgency, it's a bit of a panic to think of something to write about every half an hour. At any rate, I'm managing nicely. Even with Mike giving me a countdown. :P (Just teasing, sweets.)
I was spending some time at my parents house yesterday, and my mom was showing me the artwork for the highest pledge contributed to this Blogathon cause. It's absolutely gorgeous. If you weren't aware, the theme for my 'thon, is "Glamazons from the Past" and I've been working side by side with my mom, who's a phenominal artist, and is contributing four images to the cause. All of them are facial images of four famed movie icon women from the 30s and 40s. I picked Hedy Lamarr, Marlene Deitrich, Rita Hayworth, and Betty Grable. She's completed the image of Hedy Lamarr, and it's stunning. I'll post it soon, since it's been scanned, but it will have a watermark across it, since it's an original piece, and the only person designated to recieve it is the highest pledge contributor, which at this moment in time is Ian from Ianism at 100 dollars. He's getting a bargain. My mother is one of the major inspirations for my creative, and also benifits from my constructive criticism when I critique her work. Its a nice symbiotic relationship.
I was talking to my Dad, who is probably the most amazing person I've ever known in my entire life. He's been supplying me with stock photography the past few months, as well as the pics I've taken on my own with my own digital camera. He's a more than amateur astronomer, finding his passion at about the age of 45 years, and spending innumerable hours gazing up into the sky, charting stars and planets, and getting lost staring at their beauty.
Speaking of Dads... (nice segway, eh?) There's a new song up on the server. It's James Brown, "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag". One of my all time favourite James Brown tunes.
Enjoy.
I was spending some time at my parents house yesterday, and my mom was showing me the artwork for the highest pledge contributed to this Blogathon cause. It's absolutely gorgeous. If you weren't aware, the theme for my 'thon, is "Glamazons from the Past" and I've been working side by side with my mom, who's a phenominal artist, and is contributing four images to the cause. All of them are facial images of four famed movie icon women from the 30s and 40s. I picked Hedy Lamarr, Marlene Deitrich, Rita Hayworth, and Betty Grable. She's completed the image of Hedy Lamarr, and it's stunning. I'll post it soon, since it's been scanned, but it will have a watermark across it, since it's an original piece, and the only person designated to recieve it is the highest pledge contributor, which at this moment in time is Ian from Ianism at 100 dollars. He's getting a bargain. My mother is one of the major inspirations for my creative, and also benifits from my constructive criticism when I critique her work. Its a nice symbiotic relationship.
I was talking to my Dad, who is probably the most amazing person I've ever known in my entire life. He's been supplying me with stock photography the past few months, as well as the pics I've taken on my own with my own digital camera. He's a more than amateur astronomer, finding his passion at about the age of 45 years, and spending innumerable hours gazing up into the sky, charting stars and planets, and getting lost staring at their beauty.
Speaking of Dads... (nice segway, eh?) There's a new song up on the server. It's James Brown, "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag". One of my all time favourite James Brown tunes.
Enjoy.
I Didn't Make These Today, But...
They're up, anyways. I did a few of these, as a series. The concept behind them is 4 by 4 inch cards, mailed out to the people I love the most. Mostly friends across the world. Here's a couple examples. They are all quotes I find the most inspirational, with the most personal meaning possible.
Orange is fast becoming my most favoured colour, followed by green and blue.
The summation of my mood at this moment in time is elated. I'm very excited. (No, not in that way, Pervs.) I've got energy coming out the Ying Yang, and the music of the moment for me is the Michael Jackson 10 minute Disco megamix. I know, I know. The past few weeks, I've been digging his stuff immensely. Go figure.
MORE LINKS for you guys!
Mike Guerrero, The Sporq, creator of the Churn Nation – My darling, comedic genius friend Mike G. is a constant companion on Yahoo messenger in the evenings, lightening my mood considerably when I'm stressed out over homework, and very fun to flirt with on a regular basis. He's been asking me to guest spot occasionally in Churn and I think I may take him up on the offer sometime soon.
Orange is fast becoming my most favoured colour, followed by green and blue.
The summation of my mood at this moment in time is elated. I'm very excited. (No, not in that way, Pervs.) I've got energy coming out the Ying Yang, and the music of the moment for me is the Michael Jackson 10 minute Disco megamix. I know, I know. The past few weeks, I've been digging his stuff immensely. Go figure.
MORE LINKS for you guys!
Mike Guerrero, The Sporq, creator of the Churn Nation – My darling, comedic genius friend Mike G. is a constant companion on Yahoo messenger in the evenings, lightening my mood considerably when I'm stressed out over homework, and very fun to flirt with on a regular basis. He's been asking me to guest spot occasionally in Churn and I think I may take him up on the offer sometime soon.
Shameless promotion.
I figured it would be nice to toss out a few links to some interesting people writing, that I read ALL the time.
The Mayor in Mitchieville – Apart from being an absolutely drop dead sexy man, The Mayor keeps me laughing (and thinking) on a regular basis. Go see what The Mayor, Fenris Badwulf, and Sargon The Magnificent have to say.
Cryptic and Straynjer, from DontFeedTheMonkeys.com – Cryp and Stray have been long time blog buddies. Me love them long time. DFTM has everything from a bewbie gallery, the ever wise and bathroom humour related blog of Daniel (Cryptic), to a FREE online dating service. Go see if you can hook up with someone. Sorry ladies, Daniel isn't up for grabs. Much to my dismay.
Fellow Blogathon participant, Devin Pike, from DevinandMarty.com. – One of my best friends, and the sole owner of my heart. Devin's a brilliant writer from Dallas Fort Worth, and my mac Guru when I'm distressed beyond belief with my computer. Go say hello, He's actually blogging for 18 hours from a Starbucks in L.A.
More to come next half an hour, and there's a new song up on the server, it's "I Love To See You Cry", by Enrique Iglesias. Hey, I'm a chick, plus this song sends shivers up my spine. I'm a bit of a masochist.
Enjoy.
The Mayor in Mitchieville – Apart from being an absolutely drop dead sexy man, The Mayor keeps me laughing (and thinking) on a regular basis. Go see what The Mayor, Fenris Badwulf, and Sargon The Magnificent have to say.
Cryptic and Straynjer, from DontFeedTheMonkeys.com – Cryp and Stray have been long time blog buddies. Me love them long time. DFTM has everything from a bewbie gallery, the ever wise and bathroom humour related blog of Daniel (Cryptic), to a FREE online dating service. Go see if you can hook up with someone. Sorry ladies, Daniel isn't up for grabs. Much to my dismay.
Fellow Blogathon participant, Devin Pike, from DevinandMarty.com. – One of my best friends, and the sole owner of my heart. Devin's a brilliant writer from Dallas Fort Worth, and my mac Guru when I'm distressed beyond belief with my computer. Go say hello, He's actually blogging for 18 hours from a Starbucks in L.A.
More to come next half an hour, and there's a new song up on the server, it's "I Love To See You Cry", by Enrique Iglesias. Hey, I'm a chick, plus this song sends shivers up my spine. I'm a bit of a masochist.
Enjoy.
Busy me!
I'm rearranging my office right now, though, 20 minute spans in between posts don't allow me much time to actually DO anything all at once. I'll have a few pics up soon, I just wanted to... Well honestly, I wanted to tidy my disaster of an office before I snap a picture of it. Remember, it's the last week of finals for me, and I haven't had the opportunity to do anything other than school, homework, sleep, shower and eat for the past three weeks. I'm also a full believer that you should never clean off your desk, because creative wise, you're going to find something useful on there for another project.
I rearrange my notes/sketches, etc every month or so, categorizing them in an expandable folder depending on what category they fall into. That being said, when it comes down to organizing my files on my computer, I'm very very very organized. if my desktop on "Shadow" (yes, thanks to Dev, and his mac genius, I have anthromorphized my mac.) gets too cluttered, I feel like I'm losing control of an already rocketing fast time in my life.
At any rate, I'm back on the gravy train again, and I'm wide awake now. *grins* What happens at three AM tomorrow morning is another story. Pray for me, children.
*kisses!*
Linds
I rearrange my notes/sketches, etc every month or so, categorizing them in an expandable folder depending on what category they fall into. That being said, when it comes down to organizing my files on my computer, I'm very very very organized. if my desktop on "Shadow" (yes, thanks to Dev, and his mac genius, I have anthromorphized my mac.) gets too cluttered, I feel like I'm losing control of an already rocketing fast time in my life.
At any rate, I'm back on the gravy train again, and I'm wide awake now. *grins* What happens at three AM tomorrow morning is another story. Pray for me, children.
*kisses!*
Linds
Goodness!
I think... That all of my talk is going to end me up in trouble, promising topless photographs to a few pledge contributors. Of course, Photos will be forthwith, however you might be a little surprised. Just don't let your wife see, Rivers. *winks* I don't need to be causing marital distress in anyone's relationship.
Speaking of Marriage, some people view it as a burden and some view it as an honourable comittment. I'm one of the many in the middle. I've had my share of spinning around the block a few times, and I've had my share of being in a long term relationship. Also, a long distance relationship, which is bubbling away merrily on the stove right now. Quite honestly, I've had enough of the messing around and having my fun with people that mean nothing to me, and the thing that appeals to me most, is being loved.
It boils down to the point of wanting that connection, that lasts longer than the time you're together in bed with someone, and I'm lucky enough to find myself in a situation with someone, that though he might not be here physically, he's always here in my heart. I may flirt, I may dance on the dancefloor with someone all dirty like, but when it boils down to it's essence, it's like the song "Save The Last Dance For Me". In particular, the version done by Vancouver Local, Michael Buble.
Which coincidentally enough, is on the server. Right now. The Ramones have gracefully stepped down from their moment in the spotlight, and given way to the gorgeous crooning of Mr. Buble.
Enjoy.
Speaking of Marriage, some people view it as a burden and some view it as an honourable comittment. I'm one of the many in the middle. I've had my share of spinning around the block a few times, and I've had my share of being in a long term relationship. Also, a long distance relationship, which is bubbling away merrily on the stove right now. Quite honestly, I've had enough of the messing around and having my fun with people that mean nothing to me, and the thing that appeals to me most, is being loved.
It boils down to the point of wanting that connection, that lasts longer than the time you're together in bed with someone, and I'm lucky enough to find myself in a situation with someone, that though he might not be here physically, he's always here in my heart. I may flirt, I may dance on the dancefloor with someone all dirty like, but when it boils down to it's essence, it's like the song "Save The Last Dance For Me". In particular, the version done by Vancouver Local, Michael Buble.
Which coincidentally enough, is on the server. Right now. The Ramones have gracefully stepped down from their moment in the spotlight, and given way to the gorgeous crooning of Mr. Buble.
Enjoy.
Mike Tyson's "O" Face.
Charming, isn't it?Apparently the boxing megastar, that retired this year, has been approached by Jenna Jameson representatives, to branch out into the Adult Entertainment industry. It's rumoured that Tyson has a rather... Well-endowed... nether region. Tyson has requested the money "up front", since he owes about 1.7 million dollars to the U.S. Government for taxes.
Great for him, I'm sure. What better way to reward a man that has been convicted of rape, evaded paying his taxes, not to mention one who makes his entire career off of violence. (I'm not anti-boxing, by any means, however, this dude is particularily vicious.) By encouraging (and PAYING) him to fuck the same woman that did a 612 person gangbang? (It finished off with Ron Jeremy, doing his trademark finale) One would think, that would be like fucking a rain puddle, after that marathon enduring session. He had better be well endowed, or you know for a fact that any grimace crossing her face is completely fabricated.
Well. More fabricated than normal.
Mmmm Ears.
I Do Whatever My Rice Crispies Tell Me To Do.
Good Morning. The first song of the day is up on the server, and nothing could be more fitting than The Ramones, "I Wanna Be Sedated". 24, 24, 24 hours to go, I wanna be sedated.
Go have a listen here. It'll be up for the hour.
I'm still a little groggy, and my chai hasn't quite steeped yet. Breakfast consists of a banana. Mmm. Fruit.
Have you ever started a new job, and the first few nights that you work there, all you dream about is doing the same thing you do for a job? For instance, I used to work in a factory, one of my very first jobs, actually. I was making pressboard furniture, the kinda stuff you get those premade entertainment units, or microwave stands, or... Well, you get the gist of what I'm talking about.
At any rate, last night, I crawled into bed at about nine forty five, and couldn't sleep until eleven-ish. I guess my body is used to being up until one or two in the morning. Still, when I fell asleep, the only thing I dreamed (dreamt?) about, all night long, was writing. I'm nervous.
Well, I'm starting things off, and I hope you enjoy this wild ride I've got you going on. Hell, I hope *I* enjoy it.
See you in half an hour.
Go have a listen here. It'll be up for the hour.
I'm still a little groggy, and my chai hasn't quite steeped yet. Breakfast consists of a banana. Mmm. Fruit.
Have you ever started a new job, and the first few nights that you work there, all you dream about is doing the same thing you do for a job? For instance, I used to work in a factory, one of my very first jobs, actually. I was making pressboard furniture, the kinda stuff you get those premade entertainment units, or microwave stands, or... Well, you get the gist of what I'm talking about.
At any rate, last night, I crawled into bed at about nine forty five, and couldn't sleep until eleven-ish. I guess my body is used to being up until one or two in the morning. Still, when I fell asleep, the only thing I dreamed (dreamt?) about, all night long, was writing. I'm nervous.
Well, I'm starting things off, and I hope you enjoy this wild ride I've got you going on. Hell, I hope *I* enjoy it.
See you in half an hour.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Okay...
I'm headed off to bed, preparing for my 24 hour stint of madness, writing for Blogathon 2005. If you haven't pledged yet, and intend to, you're gonna have to get on it. As it stands, I've got a total of 94 bucks showing up there, but Ian did already donate a 50 dollar donation to the Canadian Cancer Society. That brings the total up to 144 bucks, and I'm damned happy, and proud that you guys dished out some moolah to fund a good cause.
I'll be up at five-five thirty, steeping my first cuppa chai tea, and getting ready to park it on my ass in front of my laptop, for the following 24 hours, writing a post every half an hour.
If you guys have any ideas, questions, whatever, about what to write about, please send 'em in an email to me, and I'll do my best to answer them.
If you're interested in wishing me luck, my MSN addy for MSN messenger is brassie_broad@hotmail.com, my Yahoo Messenger id is "duchessdocktrash", and the same goes for AOL messenger, it's "duchessdocktrash". I trust y'all to not exploit that I'm putting this out there. It's not hard to block an offensive person anyways, but I hope that some of you ding me with a hello, or whatnot.
I'm off to dreamland, which is good, since I'm friggin exhausted. The first post, (and song), will be up at six am Pacific standard time.
Kisses!
Linds.
I'll be up at five-five thirty, steeping my first cuppa chai tea, and getting ready to park it on my ass in front of my laptop, for the following 24 hours, writing a post every half an hour.
If you guys have any ideas, questions, whatever, about what to write about, please send 'em in an email to me, and I'll do my best to answer them.
If you're interested in wishing me luck, my MSN addy for MSN messenger is brassie_broad@hotmail.com, my Yahoo Messenger id is "duchessdocktrash", and the same goes for AOL messenger, it's "duchessdocktrash". I trust y'all to not exploit that I'm putting this out there. It's not hard to block an offensive person anyways, but I hope that some of you ding me with a hello, or whatnot.
I'm off to dreamland, which is good, since I'm friggin exhausted. The first post, (and song), will be up at six am Pacific standard time.
Kisses!
Linds.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Hah!
I wholeheartedly blame Dr. Maynard at Newsblog5000 for passing this information along to me.
I couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes, and it was exactly what I needed before heading off to bed. I've attempted to make a new religion with TJP, as well as hearing about Erik's "I can't believe it's not Buddha", but this is one of the most complex religious creations I've seen yet. It deserves the fan club it develops, (and has developed so far). Absolutely priceless.
Oh, and "I have been touched by his noodly appendage."
I couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes, and it was exactly what I needed before heading off to bed. I've attempted to make a new religion with TJP, as well as hearing about Erik's "I can't believe it's not Buddha", but this is one of the most complex religious creations I've seen yet. It deserves the fan club it develops, (and has developed so far). Absolutely priceless.
Oh, and "I have been touched by his noodly appendage."
Getting Busy.
Oooh yes, I've been busy indeed, designing the cover for the Double disc set for the second highest pledge contributor to my blogathon campaign. Take a peek at the general idea for what's going on.
As you can see, I've decided to call my entire campaign, "Excuse me, while I slip into something a little more comfortable." And I think it's fitting for the entire concept of writing for 24 hours, as well as the "Glamazons from the Past" idea I have.
At any rate, the time is drawing near, and I'm a little apprehensive. I know I can pull off writing for 24 hours, but it's the 3 AM to 6 AM stretch that I'm dreading the most.
Born Free...
And now I don't have to be chained to my desk for the entirety of Blogathon 2005.
I'll still be in my house, but I think this gives me the luxury of being able to be in my backyard, under the awning, drinking iced tea and having a couple friends over while I'm writing like a fiend for Saturday. I picked up an Airport Express unit today, and now I can wander my humble abode.
Truth be told, the ability to go and lie on my bed with my laptop on my... well... lap, is something I've been wanting to do for a while now. That's right boys and girls, I can now blog, in bed. Not that I'll be using that option during the 'thon, but it's still nice to have that option available. Heyyyy... That means you guys (and gals, I'm not picky) will technically be in bed with me.
Interesting.
I'll still be in my house, but I think this gives me the luxury of being able to be in my backyard, under the awning, drinking iced tea and having a couple friends over while I'm writing like a fiend for Saturday. I picked up an Airport Express unit today, and now I can wander my humble abode.
Truth be told, the ability to go and lie on my bed with my laptop on my... well... lap, is something I've been wanting to do for a while now. That's right boys and girls, I can now blog, in bed. Not that I'll be using that option during the 'thon, but it's still nice to have that option available. Heyyyy... That means you guys (and gals, I'm not picky) will technically be in bed with me.
Interesting.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Dreams, Real and Figurative. Where and What.
Bed time!
What do you wear to bed?
Usually, nothing. Surprising eh?
What side of the bed do you sleep on?
I sleep on the left side of the bed, because it's closest to the snooze button. The right side is reserved for my pillows.
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
No. However, I sleep with about seven pillows. Does that count? I also have a body pillow that is AWESOME. I heart my body pillow.
Blanket/bed hog?
Not that I've been told. Usually I have to yard the blankets back from whoever I'm sleeping with. When I used to sleep with someone, that is.
Do you make your bed everyday?
Hell no. Much to my grandmothers dismay.
The other kind of dreams.
What are your creative dreams?
I have heaps of creative dreams. Mostly focussing on and around being involved in an elite female crime fighting team, funded by an anonymous billionaire, wearing a catsuit, toting semi-automatics, and having feathered hair, foisting evil plans...
Oh wait. Real dreams/goals? Hrm. Well making design for a living, obviously.
What do you do to make them real?
I'm lurking in second term at Langara Electronics Media Design. That's pretty darned active for making them real. I also design my own shit on a regular basis, finding playing in photoshop to be really enjoyable.
What would you do if time and money were no object?
Man. That's a dream, alright. If time and money were no object, I'd be travelling the world, living in a relatively comfortable home, surrounded by kickass electronic goodies designing my butt off for myself and for friends.
Who are the supportive people in your life?
My Mom and Dad, Crystal(s) TJP, Melissa, Devin, Mitch, Fenris, Mike G., Jerilyn, Marty... You name it. all of my friends are friends for a reason.
What makes you unique?
I would like to think that I see the world from an interesting perspective, and help other people see the world through my eyes, which are sometimes naive, and sometimes pretty weary. I always try to treat people with compassion and understanding. I love observing things, and occasionally commenting on them.
What do you wear to bed?
Usually, nothing. Surprising eh?
What side of the bed do you sleep on?
I sleep on the left side of the bed, because it's closest to the snooze button. The right side is reserved for my pillows.
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
No. However, I sleep with about seven pillows. Does that count? I also have a body pillow that is AWESOME. I heart my body pillow.
Blanket/bed hog?
Not that I've been told. Usually I have to yard the blankets back from whoever I'm sleeping with. When I used to sleep with someone, that is.
Do you make your bed everyday?
Hell no. Much to my grandmothers dismay.
The other kind of dreams.
What are your creative dreams?
I have heaps of creative dreams. Mostly focussing on and around being involved in an elite female crime fighting team, funded by an anonymous billionaire, wearing a catsuit, toting semi-automatics, and having feathered hair, foisting evil plans...
Oh wait. Real dreams/goals? Hrm. Well making design for a living, obviously.
What do you do to make them real?
I'm lurking in second term at Langara Electronics Media Design. That's pretty darned active for making them real. I also design my own shit on a regular basis, finding playing in photoshop to be really enjoyable.
What would you do if time and money were no object?
Man. That's a dream, alright. If time and money were no object, I'd be travelling the world, living in a relatively comfortable home, surrounded by kickass electronic goodies designing my butt off for myself and for friends.
Who are the supportive people in your life?
My Mom and Dad, Crystal(s) TJP, Melissa, Devin, Mitch, Fenris, Mike G., Jerilyn, Marty... You name it. all of my friends are friends for a reason.
What makes you unique?
I would like to think that I see the world from an interesting perspective, and help other people see the world through my eyes, which are sometimes naive, and sometimes pretty weary. I always try to treat people with compassion and understanding. I love observing things, and occasionally commenting on them.
Because I Love You Guys.
Though, if you're hardcore Sly and the Family Stone fans, you might find this blasphemous. I know both Erik and Devin would be apoplectic over this. At any rate, this was produced by Sly, incorporating modern musicians that were heavily influenced by Sly and the Family while they were growing up.
At any rate, this is a remake of Dance to the Music, with Will.I.Am from The Black Eyed Peas playing with Sly.
Have a listen.
At any rate, this is a remake of Dance to the Music, with Will.I.Am from The Black Eyed Peas playing with Sly.
Have a listen.
Getting Back On Track
I begged a week extension on my final cut project, I never thought it would be such a hassle. Thank god for understanding instructors. I also have two projects complete now. Hallejulah. Praise be to Jeebus. One more week to go, a 24 hour writing marathon, talking to Student Loans Canada, and then, maybe, MAYBE I get to relax for a bit.
A quote for you, from a classmate:
"Remember that scene in The Matrix, where Keanu Reeves finally understands the Matrix? I spent the entire weekend working on flash. I now understand the flash matrix." – Oliver
A quote for you, from a classmate:
"Remember that scene in The Matrix, where Keanu Reeves finally understands the Matrix? I spent the entire weekend working on flash. I now understand the flash matrix." – Oliver
WTF?
This is my horoscope for today. Who the hell wrote it, Funshine Bear?"You are feeling snug as a bug in a rug, feelings-wise, today. You know your favorite glowworm is glowing for you. And you like it! So give 'em a big hug already."
Gag me. I prefer the grouchy blue bastard anyday.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Zip, Zero, Nada, Nothin', 零, Zéro, нул, Cero, μηδέν, ゼロ, Nul, 0.
"There's no rest for the wicked."
Or so they say. I haven't had much opportunity to be wicked, so what the fuck is up with that?
I'm slogging away in Final cut the whole evening, HOPING to finish an assignment due tomorrow... That I'm starting tonight. Eeek. Therefore, no posts of any signifigance today.
HOWEVER! I do have another song for y'all, and I'm enjoying this immensely, to be honest, by tossing up an mp3 every few days (or closer in between) for you guys to listen to.
This one is from the new Missy Elliot album "The Cookbook" and the track is entitled "On & On" produced by the Neptunes. Them caaaraaaazy Neptunes. This is one sweet ass track. Well, to me, anyways. It's got a hard, very synth-ey, funky back beat.
Okay, I'm losing my marbles. Damned finals.
Have a listen.
Or so they say. I haven't had much opportunity to be wicked, so what the fuck is up with that?
I'm slogging away in Final cut the whole evening, HOPING to finish an assignment due tomorrow... That I'm starting tonight. Eeek. Therefore, no posts of any signifigance today.
HOWEVER! I do have another song for y'all, and I'm enjoying this immensely, to be honest, by tossing up an mp3 every few days (or closer in between) for you guys to listen to.
This one is from the new Missy Elliot album "The Cookbook" and the track is entitled "On & On" produced by the Neptunes. Them caaaraaaazy Neptunes. This is one sweet ass track. Well, to me, anyways. It's got a hard, very synth-ey, funky back beat.
Okay, I'm losing my marbles. Damned finals.
Have a listen.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Some Kind Of Wonderful...
Have a Listen here. Ahh, he makes me happy. (It's been modified, obviously.)
I don’t need a whole lots of money,
I don’t need a big fine car.
I got everything that a woman could want,
I got more than I could ask for.
I don’t have to run around,
I don’t have to stay out all night.
’cause I got me a sweet ... a sweet, lovin’ man,
And he knows just how to treat me right.
Well my baby, he’s alright,
Well my baby, he’s clean out-of-sight.
Don’t you know that he’s ... he’s some kind of wonderful.
He’s some kind of wonderful ... yes he is, he’s,
He’s some kind of wonderful, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahhh ...
When I hold him in my arms,
You know he sets my soul on fire.
Oooh, when my baby kisses me,
My heart becomes filled with desire.
When he wraps his lovin’ arms around me,
About drives me out of my mind.
Yeah, when my baby kisses me,
Chills run up and down my spine.
My baby, he’s alright,
My baby, he’s clean out-of-sight.
Don’t you know that he is ... he’s some kind of wonderful.
He’s some kind of wonderful ... yes he is,
He’s some kind of wonderful, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahhh ...
Now is there anybody, got a sweet little man like mine?
There got to be somebody, got a, got a sweet little man like mine? yeah!
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness? yeah ...
Can I get a witness? ohhh ...
Can I get a witness? yeah ...
Can I get a witness? yes.
I’m talkin’, talkin’ ’bout my baby. yeah.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ about my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ... my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
(repeat to fade)
I don’t need a whole lots of money,
I don’t need a big fine car.
I got everything that a woman could want,
I got more than I could ask for.
I don’t have to run around,
I don’t have to stay out all night.
’cause I got me a sweet ... a sweet, lovin’ man,
And he knows just how to treat me right.
Well my baby, he’s alright,
Well my baby, he’s clean out-of-sight.
Don’t you know that he’s ... he’s some kind of wonderful.
He’s some kind of wonderful ... yes he is, he’s,
He’s some kind of wonderful, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahhh ...
When I hold him in my arms,
You know he sets my soul on fire.
Oooh, when my baby kisses me,
My heart becomes filled with desire.
When he wraps his lovin’ arms around me,
About drives me out of my mind.
Yeah, when my baby kisses me,
Chills run up and down my spine.
My baby, he’s alright,
My baby, he’s clean out-of-sight.
Don’t you know that he is ... he’s some kind of wonderful.
He’s some kind of wonderful ... yes he is,
He’s some kind of wonderful, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahhh ...
Now is there anybody, got a sweet little man like mine?
There got to be somebody, got a, got a sweet little man like mine? yeah!
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a witness? yeah ...
Can I get a witness? ohhh ...
Can I get a witness? yeah ...
Can I get a witness? yes.
I’m talkin’, talkin’ ’bout my baby. yeah.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ about my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ... my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
Talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
I’m talkin’ ’bout my baby, my baby, my baby.
He’s some kind of wonderful.
(repeat to fade)
Late Night Giggle.
I recieved an email from a friend today, and after reading it I browsed my junk email account, in case something slipped through the cracks and ended up in the wrong folder.
I get an overabundance of bad porno links sent to me from spammers, and this subject heading for one made me laugh until it hurt:.
The title? Captain Stabbin's Anal Adventures on the Open Seas!
Fuck that's funny.
I get an overabundance of bad porno links sent to me from spammers, and this subject heading for one made me laugh until it hurt:.
The title? Captain Stabbin's Anal Adventures on the Open Seas!
Fuck that's funny.
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