Spring Forward: and throttle someone!

Harvey?

Harvey?

Blah, blah, blah. Oh, they’re all “reach out and touch someone” right up till you try to put a personal spin on it, like in my headline, and then it’s “oh, somebody needs a little time-out!”

Yes, she does. And she would like to take it at a hotel on Mustique, thankyouverymuch. You know where the Paypal button is.

In related news, apparently I function as a human voodoo doll, and the doctors at Mount St. Joseph’s are actually using me to get back at award-winning actress and international star Marion Cotillard. Behold:

This is what they did to me:

The Damage and yes, it hurt about as much as it looks like it hurt like

So, that’s about four inches long and three across at the widest part, and a week later it looks much the same. Those dots you see aren’t pores: they’re where the freezing went in. Over and over and over. And yes, it still hurt.

and this is what happened at the same time, somewhere in France; coincidence? Hardly likely!

It's just a little prick. I mean, he's not GREEK or something

As MichaelK reports over at DListed:

While being awarded the Order Of Arts And Letters in Paris today, the French Minister pricked Marion in the chichi and pretty much made her nipple bawl blood tears.

The poor woman has tried to protect herself the only way she knows how: by getting in some spares.

Marion Cotillard is just being sensible

I shoulda thought of that myself.

I wonder what she did to piss off the boob docs? Other than stick with her original, home-grown set. I mean, she’ll never get anywhere in Hollywood with those measly flesh pimples!

In any case, and only tangentially related to the above, I’d like to bitch about my new doctor for a second. God knows what happened to the old one; perhaps he was shanghai’d by the Meerkat Army in an attempt to learn the secrets of Operation Global Media Domination (what, whaaaaaat? I’m perfectly sober! Why are you looking at me like that?). That would explain why the hematologist who was on the case the year I had to take off work to battle Hodgkin’s Disease is also missing. Perhaps they ran away together? Won’t their wives be surprised!

So both the doctor I’ve been going to since shortly after puberty and the doctor who treated my cancer have vanished in the last year. And my new doctor is a lovely, lovely person with execrable taste in office decoration (think Dolores Umbrage by way of Olde Russia) but, apparently, absolutely no juice in the medical community.

Socialized medicine works like this, in case you didn’t know (this is where the “social” part comes from, not really the payment system, no matter what they tell you): your doctor needs to refer you to a specialist, so s/he calls up the ones s/he knows socially or who owe him/her favours and s/he gets you in fast if, in his/her opinion what you have needs quick action. And what I may have includes The Big C, and I am something like three years overdue for my checkup.

And I have been waiting since October for a referral to a hematologist, which is entirely too long. When I needed a biopsy the first time, it was a week’s wait and then the head of St. Paul’s thoracic surgery performed it (leaving, may I say, the faintest scar the universe has ever seen; the man is a genius with a scalpel). I mean, I know it takes time to get an appointment with a specialist, but they haven’t even booked the appointment, which is typically six months out from the time of bookage. I’m about ready to take up a station outside the Burrard Medical Building and ambush the next person I see coming out of there wearing expensive shoes, just on the off-chance they’re a specialist.

Oh, and the clinic that set up my tests of last week promised to get the Cancer Agency to set up another biopsy, and it’s been a week and I’ve heard nothing. I mean, it’s not like their calendars only go two weeks ahead. Time to give them a ringy-dingy, methinks, before I have to stalk the Cancer Agency too, and who has time for that?

I mean, my time is valuable. More valuable to me than theirs is, quite frankly.

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FerretDance

We old-timers of the intarwebs will recognize a resuscitated meme when we see one; oh yes, this is nothing more nor less than a reworking of that classic of the intertubes, the Hampsterdance. With a significantly more anorexic cast. Sound familiar?

Other examples, through time:

Sadly, none have ever approached the catchiness of the original tune and site: there’s just something about Adsense-laden sidebars that somehow limits the freedom of the ecstatic experience, once shortlisted for Song of the Millennium.

They look suspiciously like Meerkats. Better keep an eye on these buggers.

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A Piscene Post

Which is not to be confused with an obscene post, although this one contains quite a lot of uncovered things that smell like a fish! And some that smell even worse, once you look closely.

Given the sudden influx of Fishes of Unusual Size (or FOUS) news, we can only assume that somehow, somewhere, for some obscure and nefarious purpose, the meerkats are behind it all. Are they secretly bringing about the death of the great super-fish of the uncharted depths, perhaps in an obviously futile effort to thwart the long-awaited rising of Great Cthulhu?

It would explain much. It would explain so, so much.

First, the unexplained sudden demise of the shockingly gender-confused and grossly, unspeakably swollen Benson, Giant Carp of Bluebell Lake.

Benson the Carp

Benson the carp, a former resident of Bluebell Lakes, was a female fish and should not have been called “he” in the article below.


Alas poor Benson. Born around 1984 and at times England’s largest freshwater fish, this awe-inspiring carp has been found dead at his home at Bluebell Lakes near Peterborough.

The facts of Benson’s life are well known for he was the UK’s most famous fish. Stocked into the Bluebell at around 10 years of age, Benson was already well over 10kg (22lb), on his way to super-stardom. At his peak, he was caught at over 25kg (60lb), though more recently he had slimmed down to around 50lb – still a leviathan. He gained his name because of a small hole in his dorsal fin that looked exactly like a cigarette burn.

But what made Benson so special, so beloved, was his generosity. It’s estimated he graced the landing nets of more than 60 anglers, dusting them all with immortality.

Under normal circumstances, we would simply lament Benson’s passing but there is anger today and a sense of suspicion. Carps can live to 60 or 70; Benson was cut down in his prime. Raw tiger nuts have been found on the banks at Bluebell. Unless these nuts are cooked and expertly prepared they can prove toxic to carp and the fear is that Benson could have been poisoned by one of his pursuers…

Benson, carp, born 1984, died 2009. Leaves behind numerous widows, thousands of offspring and 60-odd lovelorn captors.

Ah, the ways of the meerkats are murky, , malevolent, Machiavellian. It would be just like them to poison the UK’s biggest load of carp.

As if that weren’t bad enough, it seems they’re lurking off the coast of Oregon, attempting to get away with the illegal murder of one of nature’s most noble beasts, the Great White Shark. Cunningly disguised as mere tourists, they’ve obviously used their considerable hypnotizing powers of cuteness to make good their escape after the senseless slaughter of this beauty of the deeps.

Great White Shark from Depoe Bay Oregon

Oregon State Police Fish & Wildlife Division is continuing the investigation into the circumstances surrounding the possession of what is confirmed as a 12-foot Great White Shark in the Depoe Bay area this weekend.OSP Sergeant Todd Thompson says an OSP Fish & Wildlife Division trooper was working on the Depoe Bay docks August 8, 2009 at 8:00 p.m. when a shark was brought in by a recreational tuna boat.

“The trooper says he contacted the boat occupants after they had already gutted the shark. They indicated the shark had become entangled in their crab gear and was pulled to the surface when they pulled in a crab pot,” Thompson said.

The report pointedly omits any mention of the trooper’s leaning over and scratching the “occupants” under their chins while murmuring “Who’s a cutie? YOU’RE a cutie! Who’s my little cutie? Awwww…” but we at the ol’ raincoaster blog have our sources.

And who could have been behind these vicious, unprovoked attacks? It’s a terrible thing, my friends. Indeed, the facts of this case are such that the truth of it is nearly unspeakable, surely unthinkable. And yet, it is so. Behold, the myrmidon of the meerkats, their trained fish-ssasin:

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Meerkat Sniper Caught In the Act

Longtime readers will know that we at the ol’ raincoaster blog accept no mere whispers; gossip is to us as the obscene fingerings of the first filthy breeze of the approaching sandstorm. No, we are all about the scientific proof here at Operation Global Media Domination HQ.

Thus we pass along the following, conclusive proof of the Great Meerkat Conspiracy, the obscene worldwide plot to banish Fairies from the face of the Earth and seize control of the barrows for their own nefarious meerkattarian purposes. What was once only whispered may now be forwarded to CNN (appropriately link-credited, please!).

Meerkat Sniper caught in the act, the bastidge!

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

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Meerkat Attack!

meerkat attack, the fucker!

I know we’ve discussed this before, mostly on Twitter and in the Anti-Fairy Conspiracy comments, but NEVER turn your back on a meerkat. They’ll rip your throat out as soon as look at you, and if they know you’re onto them, there is no end to their wicked, weasely wiles.

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

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