Imagine

John Lennon

John Lennon

Thirty years ago today, The Sister walked into my room in Carleton Place, Ontario and said, “Wake up. Grandpa and John Lennon are both dead.”

Really, every morning since then has been a snap, relatively speaking.

A Gut Feeling

snow white never was very bright

snow white never was very bright

So, those of you who’ve been following this blog closely or Facebook closely, or Twitter even half-assedly will know that I’ve lately spent five days lolling around the luxurious surroundings of St. Paul’s Hospital, enjoying the luxurious fare provided by IV. Once I got switched to real food, the so-called “real food” was so awful it played a significant role in encouraging me to get out as soon as it was practical. This little time-out came courtesy of a gallbladder attack and serious infection, and resulted in me having the better part of a week without the internet and, consequently, the internet having a week without me.

It did not appear to notice.

Obviously, however unwell I may have been, the internet was in even worse shape!

In any case, once they discharged me with prescriptions for enough antibiotics to cure the rot in the Chinese government, I was told to eat low-fat, make an appointment with a surgeon (they gave me her name and number, nicely enough, and the meds have me so loopy I promptly left it behind) for an examination preliminary to the surgery which would undoubtedly happen within the next three months, and avoid alcohol, as one of the meds has the side-effect of acting as a sort of Antabuse, causing projectile vomiting if you so much as sniff too deeply at a passing cork. So, no onion rings, no fries, no cream, no booze.

and this does not take me to my happy place.

I mean, if you can’t self-medicate your “nobody visited me” sulks with premium frozen dairy products and alcohol, what’s the frickin’ point?

Which is to say, in a typically roundabout way, that I’m still sulking, and that, furthermore, I have excellent reasons for sulking, as today I had another proper gallstone attack, although one of nowhere near the severity of the last. Hospitals were avoided, but doctors were phoned and appointments were made. And, when i stupidly forgot to write them down, my friends found them for me on Facebook, so hey, social media DOES work sometimes!

But all this is nothing, really, in the larger scheme of things, and there are few things that can cause me to say my own sufferings are nothing, really, and I mean REALLy there are very, very few such things but this is one of them, this being, in this case, the brilliant if I do say so myself and if I learned one thing from being stuck in the hospital that long it’s that if I don’t say it nobody will idea of making jewelry out of gallstones and selling it to the gullible, tasteless masses that bought, and that very expensively, into the idea of yellow diamonds, formerly known as industrial-grade rocks.

Yes, once these pesky little gallstones are removed like pearls from an oyster, they will be lovingly polished and set within a luxurious 10k gold-plated setting with real Swarovski crystal accents, and sold to ostentatious suckers across this fine land.With my celebrity connections, we’re looking at offering a premium line of celebodyparts, at a significant profit.

BioRecyclables Unlimited: Our motto: You Want A Piece Of Me?

Of all the gall!

Oh, we would charge WAY more than that!

Soundtrack for a Sulk

Just the thing to listen to after the better part of the week in the hospital, getting out to find eight hundred thousand requests for favours in your inbox. I mean, this is just the thing if you don’t have conventional nukes handy.

Public Enemy: I Can’t Do Nuthin’ For You, Man

via Susan Main

Runnin’ for your life, by the knife

Runnin’ from your wife … yipes

You should’ve stuck with home

Your mind to blow your dome

It was you that chose your due

You built a maze you can’t get through

I tried to help you all I can

Now I can’t do nuttin’ for you man

 

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

You got all these people on your back now

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

Flavor flav got problems of his own

I can’t do nuttin’ for you man

 

Go lean on shells answer man

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

You jumped out of the jelly into a jam

 

Make ya love the wrong instead of right

Not a thief cat burglar through the night

cop told your girl her name was Shirl

About a rooftop crime to steal her pearls

Oozy down the bullets in the gun

 

Just microwave themselves a ton

The you tried to help them all they can

But they couldn’t do nuttin’ for ya man

 

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

They couldn’t do nuttin’ for ya man

 

Flavor Flav is the sun

Public Enemy number one

Gotcha runnin’ from the gun (pow)

Of a brain that weighs a ton

Can’t face my facts that’s on the shelf

Cause you want a hand out for your wealth

Eatin’ welfare turkey out of the can

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

 

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

You want six dollars for what?

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

You better man kiss my but

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

I’m busy tryin’ to do for me

I can’t do nuttin’ for ya man

That’s the way the ball bounces gee

 

Bass for your face, kick that shit


Jimmy Joe Roche performs Back in Black

Amy Winehouse, eat your heart out. You’ve never been this drunk in your life!

 

And while I’m here posting (now that they’ve fixed WordPress, at least temporarily) have some gossip links:

John Galliano’s unholy ambition (Ayyyy)
Harold, Kumar, Team America World Police, and your daily civics lesson (raincoaster)
2 girls, 1 cup, 1 Chaplin (Lolebrity)
Unspeakable horror aboard a shipwreck! (ManoloFood)
Baby put in corner, survives to triumph (AgentBedhead)
Clive Owen, looking pretty (BusyBeeBlogger)
and you, madam, are NO David Bowie (CeleBitchy)
Justin Bieber in Playboy? (CelebDirtyLaundry)
I think this is a steampunk jeweled zombie dress?(CelebritySmack)
Don’t Tattoo the Hoff! (CityRag)
But HOW do you love a man in a wetsuit? (CojoStyle)
They’ve always seemed Sketchy to me (DailyStab)
Yes, we have socialized B-lister protection (DListed)
Charlie Sheen also reads Playboy for the articles (Earsucker)
Give that monster a cookie! And a job! (EvilBeet)
My invitation must be lost in the mail (GabbyBabble)
Hopefully this means she’ll be “acting” less (GirlsTalkinSmack)
Daniel Radcliffe actually IS Harry Potter (HaveUHeard)
Versace de-sexifies, rolls over in grave (INeedMyFix)
But seriously, how do you parody Nicki Minaj? (PerezHilton)
and Paris Hilton carries her Thanksgiving entree to the pantry(PopBytes)
Brendan Fraser in “Homeless or Hipster?” (SeriouslyOMG)

 

Old McDonald had…

Old McDonald had a psychotic break, that's what he had

Old McDonald had a psychotic break, that's what he had

Shit, man, I dunno what he’s putting in the water over there, but I am staying the HELL away until he runs out of it. Between this and yesterday’s apparition, I’m rather glad these are in black and white instead of Colour.

Speaking of Psycho, here’s your gossip for Wednesday:

Old McDonald had a problem… (raincoaster)
Draco Malfoy cleans up good (Ayyyy)
The Andy Warhol New York City Diet (ManoloFood)
Joan Crawford’s dating tips (Lolebrity)
Il fait suffrir pour etre belle (ManoloBeauty)
Spoons are a girl’s best friend? (CraftyManolo)
A clever bale-out for the recession (GreenManolo)
When Dina Lohan has to tell you how to behave, you KNOW you’re in trouble (AgentBedhead)
Kellan Lutz has Madonna arms! (BusyBeeBlogger)
Even St. Angelina can’t save Bosnia (CeleBitchy)
Tony Danza heckles a priest at a funeral (CelebDirtyLaundry)
Canuckistan corners teh sex-ay (DailyStab)
Chupa schtupped (DListed)
Beyonce is bad! (GirlsTalkinSmack)
Eva Longoria Foursome (HaveUHeard)
You don’t have to be crazy to hate Bristol Palin (INeedMyFix)
Harry Potter finds his dead parents alive! (SeriouslyOMG)

Oh, and…