Category Archives: Allegory

quiz: which alcoholic drink are you?

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I know, I know: two quizzes in a row! But this is so me and so flattering to me that I’ve got to post it THIS INSTANT. Because a double Bombay Sapphire Martini, 6:1 with Noilly Prat and a twist of lime, waits for no blog.


You Are A Martini


You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink.
And for you, only quality alcohol. You don’t waste your time on the cheap stuff.
Obviously, you’re usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic.
And you’d never, ever consider one of those flavored martinis. They’re hardly a drink!

What Alcoholic Drink Are You?

Hinterland’s Who’s Who: the black bear

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To make up for the fact that Crack Spider Dude has disabled embedding, I went in search of a replacement Hinterland’s Who’s Who video for ya, and look what I found: The Black Bear.

Actually, this one looks more like a white bear to me.

Pen of the Great Old Ones

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great race, yo!

You gotta know, when it comes to Great Old Ones news, that BoingBoing would have it. And you totally gots to know that raincoaster would be all over featuring it, particularly if it meant that she wouldn’t have to do any gruesome “clearing off of the Earth” duties. Here’s the latest on a pen which has recently been discovered to meet all of the qualities in the “Great Race” narrative, but which are, of course, quite independent of it. Indeed, stories about these strange metal pens are common among a certain circle of fiction writers; only the overwrought imagination of the fantasists could have imagined a pen in our own time that recorded its thought and those to which it referred. Totes.

Hinterland’s Who’s Who: Spiders on Drugs

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This is a blast from the past for Canucks, who probably grew up watching those ridiculous Hinterland’s Who’s Who interludes from the NFB. We may not be good at asserting ourselves, but buy god we know our black footed marmot from our white footed one! Stole this from the House of Hunt.

UPDATE: bitch has gone and disabled embedding. Bloody princess; 300,000 hits in ONE DAY and now he decides he doesn’t want to be famous.

UPDATED UPDATE: he says:

Your wish is my command, raincoaster.
Spiders for all!!!

and has re-enabled embedding, yay! Now he’s less than a thousand hits away from 700,000, at two and a quarter million views, which is undoubtably the highest-ranking Canadian nature video ever to hit the internets.

It’s the “100 centimeters” that slays me. TOO Canadian! 

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duct tape, lingerie of the Great White North

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Maybe you have Victoria’s Secret stores where you live. Oh fine, gloat. They’re illegal here, or sumpin’, for lo, we have nothing so much as a dearth of Victoria’s Secret stores here in Canuckistan. What does this mean? It means that inhabitants of the Great White North, male and female, must make do with what they have and, in many cases it means that we must make do with such lingerie as is available from Lee Valley.

Victoria’s Secret supplies, in addition to reasonably-priced suiting lines and blog fodder, and as you may be aware, a diverse range of lingerie, including push up sports bras, strapless contraptions in sizes larger than you’d think prudent, and much more. And, frankly, however overpriced they may be, they all work.

But up here in Canuckistan, we are deprived. We can do the online thang. We can do the mailorder thang. But if we do not do the credit card thang we cannot do the Victoria’s Secret thang in any way, shape, or form.

Except…

Except in the most Canadian form of all. Let me tell you a twofer of tales that will tell you that, when it comes to continence or glamour, Canuckistan will take a back seat to no-one.

cut to Gilligan’s Theme music.

Once upon a time, like last night, mine hosts told a tale, a tale of a fateful shit. That started from their friends’ baby, and that was all of it. The baby knew the diaper was the way to own its’ parents, so nightly she’d divest herself of it’s malevolence. No way! No hope! The diaper shed, no matter what the ‘rents would do. Halfway through sleep they would awake and toss that fateful poo.

ENTER RED GREEN

So the baby took its diaper off for attention: solve the problem the Red Green way, by duct taping the diaper in place. Until baby can handle a switchblade, you’re good to go!

So ends Part the First.

Part the Second: I taped my tits for this?

Surely I can’t be the only woman who’s admired a photo of a fortysomething celeb whose boobs are still perky enough to put out an eye. The secret, as I learned from my in-the-know friend Sandy, is Duct Tape.

I am a fortysomething not-yet-celeb, and I have, as I may have mentioned, long since transcended human dignity. I was also a woman who had to attend an avante-garde art opening in a strapless bodysuit.

I used the duct tape.

Three days and six showers later I was unsticky. I think I have finally figured out the secret to Brandon Davis’ unique attraction: no matter how coated with adhesives you may be, you’ll slide right off his grease-streaming carcass.

Show me the luv, people: the Bloggie Awards: nominatez-moi!

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