Category Archives: Lush Life

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

Toxic Love Shack

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Hey, it’s summer and there’s a Gawker commenter meetup tomorrow and I have to get presentable and meet someone I’ve never seen before for drinks at Connor Butler in three hours and I still have to get this apartment ready for a houseguest or at least throw the sheets in the washing machine and take out the recycling so he doesn’t think I’m an alkie and make a post about my new blogging classes and I was supposed to get the press release out today but instead I had to wrestle with the damn computer for hours and restart upon restart and don’t even ASK about the Zune and besides, there’s a total buckpassing issue that I have to solve one way or another in the next 12 days not that you asked but have you heard anything? and don’t even ask about the personal life plus there’s an event going on tomorrow that I’m really looking forward to and was supposed to have all the sequins sewn on by today but I don’t but Irwin says the event doesn’t exist and I suppose an arts administrator would say if an event falls at Trout Lake but nobody administers it does it occur at all? but then I’m an anarchist, so what do you think I said, eh? Plus I’ve had two requests in the past 24 hours for a sandbagging tutorial (ie “I have a troll on my ass and I want to lay the smackdown on him; can you help?” Oh, baby, it’s what I DO!) which I totally would have done except:

A) why let the enemy read your battle plans and

B) computer problems (see above).

So I don’t know about you, but I need this. A mashup of Britney Spears’s Toxic and the B-52’s Love Shack:

Donkey Punch?

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They say it’s traditional.

So it must be all right, right?

Right?


from dissfunktional

This thing, it’s up there in the Octopus Sex Man Gets Off realm, only apparently it involves tens or even hundreds of thousands of Chinese women.

I don’t really know how to report this sickening story other than with the straight (or, rather, deeply twisted) facts, so here they are:

Feral donkey a ‘boost’ for women’s sex drive
* Top (End) donkeys sought for libido aids

“They’re after a lot of donkey *****. As much as they can get their hands on,” Mr Fleming said.
NORTHERN Territory donkeys could soon be helping to increase the sex drive of Chinese women.

I guess even they‘ve completely given up on Chinese men.

Big Dee Dee Not Home Free!

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Rock? Lobster

Rock? Lobster

Canadians from Port Alberni to the Bay of Fundy have been riveted by the tale of Big Dee Dee, a rare LOUS or Lobster of Unusual Size.

Indeed, at a strapping ten kilos and old enough to vote in human elections, Big Dee Dee was unquestionably the king (or queen…I didn’t look that closely, I must admit) of the ocean floor. Until s/he was caught, that is. Caught and put up for auction like a common slave. The biggest bid came from a mysteriously nameless Ontario organization and is this the right time (yes, yes it is) to tell you that my father used to make a pretty penny back in the Seventies shuttling semi-comatose lobsters from the Maritimes to Toronto on condition he not look inside more than the top case, as the coke and pot were packed in between lobsters on the lower levels.

Seafood, particularly live seafood, confuses the dogs’s noses, you see. That’s why every time you see mixed seafood on sale at T&T you can bet that Hastings is going to be wild that night; they can take a bath on the price of the seafood, as it is incidental to the profitability of the actual cargo.

Mysteriously nameless Ontario organization, but we can be pretty sure it wasn’t the Boy Scouts offering a cool five thousand for the meaty crustacean. And, indeed, they would have had their wanton way with Dee Dee, had it not been for Vancouverite and vegetarian Laura-Leah Shaw and her two anonymous Eastern backers, who made a counteroffer of $3000 and hella publicity. It looked as if the lobster were saved, that Dee Dee would once again crawl and flit in the turbid, reversable waters of The Bay of Fundy.

But it was not to be.

t’s bittersweet news for Big Dee-Dee, a 10-kilogram lobster, as the creature has avoided a butter bath on a dinner plate, but won’t be heading back to the ocean anytime soon after all.

Instead, Big Dee-Dee is destined for a coastal New Brunswick marine facility…

Breau said on Sunday that he’s decided he’ll instead be giving the lobster to the Huntsman Marine Science Centre in St. Andrews.

“I thought about it for quite a few hours but I thought it’s best for business to do it like this,” Breau said. “No bitter feelings.”

Au contraire. To those faceless, nameless Ontarians, it leaves a distinctly sour aftertaste. I hope that’s one fisherman who doesn’t end up swimming with the fishes.

The Deadbeat Club

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Well, I’ve never been one to dip a toe in when I could plunge over the cliff taking an entire bus with me instead.

So…Facebook.

MistressCowfish suggested I start a group, because after Friending people, Grouping is teh hawtness on Facebook, which sounds to my elderly ears like a rave gotten completely out of control, but whatever.

I have Grouped.

If you’re on Facebook, you’ll find me at The Deadbeat Club (cue Metro‘s bitter humour…).

Inspired by glorious deadbeats throughout history such as the authors of Frugal Indulgents, Dorothy Parker, Oscar Wilde, Quentin Crisp, Vincent Van Gogh, and that guy … you know … that guy whose name I can’t remember, who destroyed his priceless collections and then killed himself rather than let the collection fall into Ceasar’s hands. See, if Boris would join the group he could tell us who that was.

Yes, surely in a Deadbeat Club there’s some room for rich, sore losers. Especially if they’re buying.

Ladies, Gentlemen, and the Undecided, please raise your glasses, mugs, or sippy cups to our anthem:

The Deadbeat Club by The B 52’s

I was good, I could talk
A mile a minute,
On this caffeine buzz I was on
We were really hummin'
We would talk every day for hours
We belong to the deadbeat club

Anyway we can,
We're gonna find something
We'll dance in the garden
In torn sheets in the rain

We're the deadbeat club
We're the deadbeat club

Going down to Allen's for
A twenty-five cent beer
And the jukebox playing real loud,
"Ninety-six tears"
We're wild girls walkin' down the street
Wild girls and boys going out for a big time

Let's go crash that party down
In Normaltown tonight
Then we'll go skinny-dippin'
In the moonlight
We're wild girls walkin' down the street
Wild girls and boys going out for a big time

Anyway we can
We're gonna find something
We'll dance in the garden
In torn sheets in the rain

Chorus

Oh no! Here they come
The members of the deadbeat club