Putting the “OW” in “Power”

At this point, slightly less than a third into Blogathon, I have more or less no idea what I’m going to do in terms of a post to go with that title, but let us not constrain ourselves with linear notions of time, space, logic, and readability, shall we?

marriedtothesea.com

I know! Power is, like, electricity, or rather electricity is a kind of power. Sure, it’s not the kind enjoyed by absolute monarchs or the tyrants of the ancient city-states, but it’s power nonetheless. And so I hereby declare this post to be about power.

Not that most of mine aren’t, in some way, shape or form. In fact, Operation Global Media Domination is one of the busiest categories on my blog, with 238 posts, soon to be 239. Do I hear 240?? Going once, going twice, come on people, you all know I’m going to run out of things to talk about besides myself, and what does that leave us, eh? That’s right. Operation Global Media Domination: going auto-meta. Set phasers for “backlink” and fasten your seatbelts; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Addison DeWitt: [voiceover] Margo Channing is a star of the theater. She made her first stage appearance at the age of four in Midsummer Night’s Dream. She played a fairy and entered, quite unexpectedly, stark naked. She has been a star ever since. Margo is a great star, a true star. She never was or will be anything less or anything else.

Right, power. It’s a blog post about power.

Those of you who’ve been following the raincoaster sitch closely will know that (digital appearances to the contrary) OGMD HQ has been entirely without electricity for a period of approximately three months. Fortunately, this corresponds exactly with a period of remarkable good weather, and also with the period during which I have a hibachi, a cast-iron stove, and access to an office with a full kitchen 24/7. Essentially, I told Hydro I’d catch them later, when they weren’t asking $300 simply to reconnect the power. After ninety or so days they saw the light (so to speak) and There Was Light. And Heat. And Refrigeration.

Never try to tough it out and outlast raincoaster. I would have burned Canadian Tire flyers all winter to keep warm, if I’d had to.

This is a Blogathon post. Don’t just sit there, SPONSOR ME!

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War of the Sexes: Man vs Woman

Sorry, boys. We own you.

Another in our ongoing series of hilarious, sexy, booze-related commercials. Let’s get the Scots (particularly that long-haired one) together with this chick and breed a race of super-drinkers. Imagine if that happened: finally a date that could keep up with me!

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The war of the sexes: Man vs Man

I don’t care what you’ve got, it’s not as good as this. This is, quite simply, the best commercial ever made. New Zealand vs Scotland, man-mountains vs Abercrombie and Fitch models, two avatars of modern masculinity going head-to-head in a testosterone-sodden war. Who wins?

Watch this, and then you tell me.

Me? I think the audience wins!

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Post-Postathon Pampering

Wolverine is a big tipper

Having never participated in Blogathon before, I was unsure how to prepare, and consequently there are some gaping holes where my careful preparations should be. I brought, for instance, my travel kit of personal care products including shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and toothbrush. I forgot, however, a towel. I suppose I could always air-dry?

And I’m out of gin. Yes, ALREADY.

As with my prep, so with my after-party; that is, I haven’t gotten it hooked up yet. I would assume that doing 48 posts in 24 hours (NOT 49, I AM TELLING YOU) would be deserving of a reward, one other than and in addition to the obvious one of sleep. Just what that reward could be, I haven’t really decided, except that it will involve making other people do stuff I could damn well do for myself. In fact, as long as it meets that criteria, it qualifies as what I want most. I mostly always want other people to do stuff for me, but rarely have the excuse to demand it.

Which, you may have noticed, does not stop me from doing so anyway.

I could get someone to help me clean my place, but a) it’s so big a job I’d have to help out, thus negating the not-lifting-a-finger thing, b) no way can I afford to pay someone to tackle this themselves, in fact I’m not sure Bill Gates has enough money. I mean, I know what’s growing under there; can I honestly ask some poor sap from MollyMaid to take that on? And can I afford to settle the wrongful death suits if she does?

I could get perfume, only the only perfume I like costs enough that it might as well be distilled from the beaded brow sweat of the collected offspring of Serge Gainsbourg, generated while they adapted Mozart’s Queen of the Night aria to a new rock opera to star Viggo Mortensen. Harvested under a solar eclipse.

So, yeah.

I could get a pirate hat. I look GOOOOOOOD in a pirate hat, not like some costumey dope; I look like some cross-dressing 17th Century chick on a mission of revenge, something that’ll change the course of history in the South Pacific forever. Not like this:

Pirates do tend to overaccessorize

But a cheap pirate hat is not a good look. So it’s either the expensive pirate hat, or the spa visit, I’m thinking. Or gin? Gin goes with everything!

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One for Metro

emo lawn

Awwww, Metro will feel so special. I recall there was some bitching about the last time I posted something for him, but then not everyone likes getting their picture taken.

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