Category Archives: diary

What Did You Do Today, raincoaster?

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I'm blogging this

Invoiced twice, argued one of them out over Gmail, learned how to use BillingBoss (which is DA BOSS and dat’s all you need to know), edited an occupancy agreement, pitched a commissioned sales job, got about 60 affiliate links done for the Manolosphere and 20 done for myself, got invited to teach social media in Vernon and Kelowna (now to find some classrooms!) accessed the brain trust on Twitter for some advice, followed it, prepped my talk for WordCamp Victoria (WordPress.com vs WordPress.org) [UPDATE: and then drew the pentagram and caused Lolebrity.net to arise from the grave; the undead: so hot right now] and blogged the following:

Which is not bad for a Monday, even if I didn’t get paid.

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Welcome to the Blogroll, George Orwell

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George Orwell Passport

Do I need to explain why?

Seriously, though, I’d have thought he’d have been a little snappier. If he’d had to compete with all the famewhores out there stuffing their blogs with memes, he’d have stepped up his game a bit.

Check out the August 10th entry:

Drizzly. Dense mist in evening. Yellow moon.

Yeah, ACTUAL diaries are never as interesting as blogs. For one thing, fewer amusing YouTubes. The premise is, one post per day, taken straight from Orwell‘s actual diaries. If it weren’t George Fucking Orwell I wouldn’t bother, but I have faith there will be something other than a haircut blog in it eventually.

We’ve now gone a good, solid step beyond asking what happens to a blog when somebody dies (see Theresa Duncan and Olive Riley) and gone straight into blogging for the dead by proxy.

Blogger Blogging Block

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Did I mention I’m rather overloaded at the moment? I believe I may have made a passing reference to that situation in the recent past. And overload is antithetical to blogging. Antithetical? That so totally can’t be right.

Stupid spelchekar!

Well, add to that the fact that my bank card apparently won’t work, even though for once there is money in the account and which usually means VISA is mad at me for some reason although I DID make the payment this month but, let’s face it, Mister Visa is an evil, evil man.

And people are now stopping me in the street asking me how to post on their blogs when FearlessCity is down, which it has been for something well over one and possibly approaching two weeks, so I take a few hours out of my day, meet them at Job Shop, and set them up on WordPress.com of course instead. We’ll copy/paste later, although by that time they might be spoiled for Drupal blogging, who knows?

And, oh yes, having spent some of today trying on clothes I realize that making time to exercise is No. Longer. Optional. Frankly, I’m lucky my ass fits in a jeep, never mind jeans.

Also, I’ve consumed basically nothing but bacon-maple donuts, fries, dim sum, cake, and alcohol since Friday afternoon, for which I have to take my friends’s word, as I do not actually recall. Not that this is unusual for me…

So, blog posts are coming. In the meantime, have a nice summer song:

B-52’s Roam

I hear a wind
whistling air
whispering
in my ear

Boy mercury shootin through every degree
oh girl dancin down those DIRTY and DUSTY trails
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
around the world the trip begins with a kiss

roam if you want to
roam around the world
roam if you want to
without anything but the love we feel

skip the air-strip to the sunset yeah
ride the arrow to the target
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
around the world the trip begins with a kiss

roam if you want to
roam around the world
roam if you want to
without anything but the love we feel

fly the great big sky see the great big sea
kick through continents bustin bounaries
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
around the world the trip begins with a kiss

roam if you want to
roam around the world
roam if you want to
without wings, without wheels
roam if you want to
roam around the world
roam if you want to
without anything but the love we feel

take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness
take it hip to hip rock it through the wilderness

Guess who?

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Let’s just say the experiment to become diurnal rather than nocturnal is not going well. On the one hand, I got up at five today. On the other hand, it probably wasn’t the five you’d expect.

Humorous Pictures


a learning experience

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What yesterday taught me:

  • After ten at night, downtown in the boondocks is filled with attractive, well-dressed young couples strolling and chatting to one another and greeting friends.
  • After ten at night, downtown in Vancouver is filled with staggering drunks, beggars, dopey hipsters wearing secondhand clothing they haven’t even brushed the dead owner’s dandruff off, and those so outrageously obnoxious that their own mothers out in said boondocks threw them out of their basement apartments and told them to go “get some fresh air.” This is much like the tourist effect, to whit: the reason most tourists are so obnoxious is that they are not traveling because they wish to, but rather because they have been thrown out by their homes.
  • When I have that nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something in my apartment, that thing invariably turns out to be the keys to the place where I’m headed.
  • When I forget the keys to the boondock-ridden locale where I am supposed to be house-sitting, it will be on a night when I decide to take the Skytrain to the very farthest station in said boondock and walk to the house via the “scenic route” which, of course, takes place in the foothills of the Coastal Mountain range.
  • I must be getting fitter because, although the walk wiped me out, I no longer smell like wet pennies when I sweat, so this is an improvement.
  • Conrad Black has two sons, in addition to the daughter who’s been doing the “faithful supporter” thing at the trial. Funny, I read his whole autobiography and he didn’t mention them. Nor getting married, if memory serves. What a family guy!
  •  Those graveyards that have the small, flat stones set flush into the ground? When you pass them at speed on the Skytrain on a dark and stormy night, they sparkle. Almost worth forgoing the weeping angels. Somewhere in Boondock, Ontario, my mother is sparkling. Unless it snowed; then she’s twinkling.
  • It is indeed possible to live off nothing but meat, cheese, caffeine and scotch for a week, but when you do
  • you will crave, I mean actively crave, multivitamins.

That concludes tonight’s lesson.