Kung fu monks outraged over ninja remark.

Giant wasp nests perplex experts.

Giant spider webs baffle experts.

Bush porn picture.

Reptile Posh already caught him though.

Crab.

• Father Dougal McGuire might also be called Ghostbuster as he makes the 'meeaw... meeaw' sound of the stationwagon. That or Peter Venkman.
• My good friend was telling us that his lab coworker grows foreskin in a tub. A foreskin. Just one immense foreskin. The donor might now have the largest foreskin on the planet, albeit decapitated. We tried to come up with possible commercial uses for it. Or any use at all. Coinpurses? Skin-tight yoga pants? Alternatives to plastic shopping bags? Biodegradable/edible murder weapon? Detachable turtleneck? Baby sling? Goes on really... The potential uses are limited only by the size of some guy's foreskin. There should really be a service that helps reunite people with their biological foreskins.
• My sisters house in Victoria recently got raided by a SWAT team. Well, raided is unfair, more like infested: they used it as a sniper platform to contain some unruly neighbours who were waving a BB gun around. Someone in the local area had been shot and the police went bonkers. My poor sister came back from her day-job, which I hear is pretty intense and scarcely rewarding, to full-body armored adrenalin junkies with tactical weapons setting up Field Operations in her kitchen, probably watching Entertainment Tonight and eating the catfood.
• Speaking of police, somebody I know just called the cops on me. They asked if my name was Warren (even though they had my ID that states pretty clearly that my name is Thomas) and checked my arms for hypodermic scabs. They actually paused on a wincy kitten scratch, saying: Dat der, what dat der? I explained the situation, that the lady who called me was just as responsible in the incident as me. After the inquisition, they took a shine to me and were extremely sympathetic to my position. I actually felt protected for once. I hope they come back, as I need 3rd party arbitration from this person's unreasonable accusations.
• Anyone know where I can buy some adult-sized Heely's in Montreal? Oh, nevermind... just found out: http://www.heelyscanada.com/
• Also, this movie really impressed me... Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon ... kinda fell apart at the end, but hey, at least it went meta. Or morelike, started meta and then fell to constraint. A very clever, unbelievable concept.

swearwords... not just for fucking assholes

ok, so what the fuck is up with swear words? i remember hearing my first in-song swearword (Lenny Kravitz's "Mr Cabdriver"... Mr Cabdriver, fuck you, I'm a survivor...) and freaking out. i thought that was the coolest shit ever. i remember the first time i got told off for swearing (such a nipple twist that one, i was watching Aliens at Marc Guillet's house and Sigorney'd just taken the flamethrower to the Queen's eggs and was trying to get out of the terraforming factory before the fusion generator blew with the pubic-lice-to-the-Nth-degree looking Queen on her tail (pretty bileraising scene and totally swear-worthy) and i commented on it: 'that mother looks so pissed off'... Marc Guillet's dad bollocked me: no swearing in my house tiger, and i asked what? what did i say? and he said pissed was a swearword. and i was like no fucking way, you dirty french dick discharge. not really. i said. oh, sorry, because i was actually pleasant in those days. thing is i'd learnt all the plumper, more poignant words from his own son, Marc, who could've gotten a grant from the Canada Council for the Arts for his ribald loquaciousness)...

swearing welded my puberty together. it was literally an oath, a ward of protection, a structured and gassily semantic frame for a scream... nicely packaged format for angst... it seemed the most appropriate form to express my pain and hurt this overcooked shit-pie my world seemed to be... when my parents divorced, we took to swearing avidly around the house... my mum was fine with it, actually revelled in it, i believe, colouring it with more creative adjectives than i could muster at that point. finding out she could strip the mussel's from a cargoliner's hull with naught save an oral flourish impressed the everliving shit out of me. i was like 'fucking right'. and started calling her maw instead of mum, like how i imagined a trailor park kid would call his mum when finding the finger he'd blown off his brother's hand the week before behind Uncle Duke's stereotype... "fuck maw! gitouthere... Mullet just barfed up the rest of it..."

and there's wider patterns to swearing...
remember the 'douchebag' fad that stormed through public awareness a few years ago? people were like 'Bono? that guy's a douchebag...' and 'redouche, reuse, recycle' and 'Sup, douchers?'... ad nauseam... it was incredible, perhaps because it held its valency, like the 'retard' wildfire that'd ripped through the planet a few years before that. the phrase 'retarded douchebag' is still pretty funny, even though it don't mean shit and we're all a bit desensitized to them now... maybe that's even why these things are funny? i mean, really, what is a retarded douchebag?

so now i query and prompt for the latest swearwords out there... any new euphemisms you know of? want to just swear in the comments? at me? at some prick you know? go on, let's pretend swearing is cool again, like we're on a grade 8 field trip to Sault Ste. Marie with fuckwits for chaperones again... my maw's cool with it and shit, don't worry...

for inspiration:
THE BIG LEBOWSKI - THE FUCKING SHORT VERSION

The Deluge...

As I see it, the world could be better... here's my list of how:

• Wireless could be routed through yours and other people's laptops, recreating the web instead of relying on the lockable single central server... Strengthened by numbers, it would be free and more easily sustainable... if not, the central tenets of the Internet start to erode... This is my current current...
• Batteries could be way better. And mobile energy sources are now creating the biggest lag-time in technology... invest in that now and you'll retire unwrinkly...
• The personal SONAR helmet... see in the dark, underwater... this could be available now, so why isn't it?
• Developers holding on to vacant plots (levelled buildings, gaps between housing rows, old tenements slated for refurbishment etc.) could be petitioned, with reduced land-tax as incentive/collateral, to allow impermanent homeless shelters to be erected in situ... This would engender some sense of proprietal engagement for the homeless; give them an address (if they want it); obviously allow safety and involvement; be a place to commune and recollect... Unfortunately, due to the degree of mental imbalance amongst the disenfrancised and the leery approach the Authorities take towards street-dwellers, this happy refuge could too easily be warped into a place of unofficial internment... so volunteers and ombudsmen would be needed to orchestrate and manage each site's balance... anonymity be permitted, regional political suffrage be established... etc...

Also, people who read this and care, should attend here or visit there...

dogs, logs, bogs, loose cogs, no frogs and a cat: a blog

So this installment'll be more like the sauce-splattered post-meal placemat than a dish of edible food... I'll try and give it legibility with time-estimate annotation...

Tuesday 14th, 6pm EST... NORDIA Call Center...
Tapping happily away at work, relaying deaf people's conversations when...
-"Thomas Corcoran?" Says a lady dressed in a Trinity-esque pleather suit holding a clipboard...
-"Yes?" Says me, muting the call... Call ends so I hang-up...
-"Come with us..." "Us?" I think, then notice the hulking behemoth with axe-blades for hands guy behind her...
-"Ok... bring my stuff?"
-"Yes"...
That's how my employment was - and they used this word - terminated... I was too tardy for their liking and so got pushed out by the numbers (they also unionized lately, putting the pressure on the peeps in probation... before 3 months, you'll get canned so you can't enter the collective bargaining process that they're so deafly afraid of...)

6.05pm, bike rack outside of NORDIA
-"It turns out I can come to the cottage this week! Best day ever!!!"

9.30-10pm, Bark Lake
-"Ahhh, I'm at the cottage. Thanks Rob Mason, you're my hero..."

Wednesday 15th
Sailing in a Tasar with 2 of my favouritest people ever, in shards of golden sunshine on a summer-simmered lake...

Thursday 16th
Ate a lot. Talked about going to the Spa in Mount Tremblant. Didn't. Bought $500 worth of beer, groceries and beer. Ate more. Pet Maverick the dog. Slept like a Bedouin prince.

Friday 17th
Sanded the steps to the dock... Sailed, smoked a spliff and then SAILED, feeling everything: the curling fingers of wind, the swells licking the center-board, the hum of the mast-stays, the resistance of the tiller... became the boat... Made a burn-pile/bonfire a la the Inquisition. Watched stuff happen. Helped make stuff happen (weekend's mission was to straighten the boathouse by repairing its founding beams) Ate lasagne. 3 helpings. Garlic bread. Salad. Chatted amiably with the hosting family.

Saturday 18th 9ish-noonish AM
Watched two 40 plus footer cedars get felled by chainsaw. Carried them back to the cottage via swamp and septic field.. 'Hid' them from the Lake's biggest squealer who was round for a visit. Ate bacon.

noonish - 8pm
Helped raise a boathouse. Cut old wood. Started my first chainsaw. Pet the dog. Carried logs. Nailed stuff. Removed nails from stuff.

OK THIS IS CRAZY, SOUNDS RIDICULOUS IN THIS MANNER. THE ABOVE IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED BUT A LIST OF WHAT HAPPENED...

cutting to the quick here... there was a cat that apparently wandered out of the bushes... kinda gawky spring-born juvenile cat (5-6 months?)... needing a home... so i opted mine for at least the time being... he's a darling... black with a little priest's collar on his neck.... and we're trying to generate a name here... so here's a few... what do you think?

Corona (pronouced, co-ro-NAH... after being transported back from the lake in an empty 24 of corona... also means the ring seen around the sun during an eclipse - perfect for his african canadianess - also related to the CROWN)

Limerick - (word that got stuck in my head this weekend... but James is looking for a name for his bike and i though Limerick'd be more fitting attached to that... so I suggested it there)

Priest/Reverend (I like that one... call him Revvy...)/Dougal (from Father Ted... you should watch Father Ted... it's funny britcom humour)...

So right now, I'm leaning towards either Reverend and Dougal (especially Dougal)... any suggestions for an awkward cat with a big purr and loving tendencies, black coat with a punched-flat looking nose and a white little bowtie on his collar?

blogging pushups...

Rejected Children's Books manuscripts (because sometimes taking advice from them is like taking advice from your highschool guidance counsellor):

"The Ocelot, the Crone and the Hutch with the Everything-Drawer... You know, the one with the broken headphones, lost Risk pieces and your uncle's old speedos in it..." by Perry Sprayberry

"A is for Assault-Rifle" by Magnus Flexor

"Hector the Myopic Groundhog and his Magical High-Fives" by Llelowyn Glanddisorder

"How to draw... blood" by Porty Dubai

"Helen the Anxious Porcupine and the Too-Tight Spacesuit" by Lynn Onwelfare

"How to be Awesome" by Captain Awesome

"The Adventures of Grumbles the 9-Volt Battery" by Tom Corcoran

"The Continuing Adventures of Grumbles and the Carbon Monoxide-Detector of Doom" by Tom de Plume

"Rigor Mortis and You" by GSL

"Hippo Displacement" by Lavender deMentia

"Why Your Parents Have Broken Blood Vessels on their Faces" by Yo Ma Ma

"Barry Blogger and the Philanderer's Kidneystone" by Sue N. Ilecountersue

"Texas Hold'em and Why You Don't Have Any Toys" by Maxim Magazine

"The Forest Bunny Senate's Amendment to Chapter 7, Subsection F, of the 3rd Charter of the Statute of Glee-Rights" by Someone Who Thinks About Bunnies Way Too Much

"Tumescence" by Correspondence


Ok... I really could go all day. I feel ill though, so I will stop.

the small/medium/large is the message

oh packaging and presentation... how you've left our planet discholarated...

i intend this entry to be all about the cats i know.

when youtube initally swept through and caught people's fancies, i remember ____ telling me how she got bored and went looking for videos all about cats. it made me laugh to think of her typing 'funny cats' and 'silly cats' and 'crazy cats' into the search field. but then, one day not too long after, i closed the drapes or angled the screen from the rest of the cafes view, turned off my phone and, likely blushing, commanded youtube to bring me videos of 'funny cats'. i just did it again, but this time just had to type 'fu...' and 'funny cats' automatically appeared in the search field. so i thought i'd share a few personal experiences of 'funny cats' with you...

Marbles, so named for her mottled turtle-shell and big eyes, was a little cat with big dreams. and an even bigger temper. and she'd stalk around our backyard in Oakville, her pride keeping her dismissive of any human activity... a bit of a thug she was, arrogantly patrolling the perimeter with disdain. one day, after a rainfall, she concentrated her prowess on the pool-area, (we once had a freakin pool!) leaping up the ladder of the slide in two bounds... but she overshot her landing at the top, and slipped onto the slope... for some reason it was timed so well that we were all looking at her when she did it. her paws splayed in front of her, trying to stop the inevitable, she made a pathetic mewl and then went very uncat-like into the pool. we fished her out, not too quickly mind you, and she skulked off for a pout somewhere. perhaps the most embarassing part of the story is that i wrote a poem about it for my grade 6 english class (i was in grade 6, ok?).

Cricket chirps when she's happy. and she likes warm spots. and suckling on wool. and sitting in the sink. and sitting on top of things. last winter, ____ and I were in the middle of a 72 hour Civilization 3 binge (we consulted each other about most everything, setting up impromptu war cabinets with each other etc) with Cricket sitting on top of the monitor for days at a time. halfway through, probably at 4 in the morning, she came back from a litter-scrape and made her way over us and prepared to hop back onto the monitor. she misjudged the firmness of the surface she was jumping from and launched herself at the screen itself, barely managing to get her paws over the top edge. she plastered herself to the thing as ungainlily as a pie in the face, waiting for about 20 seconds before letting out the most pathetic little mew i've ever heard. it was likely the first time ____ or i had blinked in about a half hour... that really cracked me up.

Ziggy has a foot fetish. Domino/Sushi/Fidel quacks when she's happy (the chillest cat ever). Steve's friend Chantal's cat has a really small head. Gribbles has an attitude and sleeps in the bathroom. ____'s neighbour's cat gets stuck on the flyscreen. Their downstairs neighbour's cat wears wifebeaters occasionally. A cat broke into my room last year and I caught it chewing on my dirty laundry. Brian's cat Scar needs anger management coaching. Graham's cat once returned with no fur on its tail. Chewy once ate Sammy the Ferret's tail. Sammy the Ferret once dragged Chewy behind the couch.

Ok, I'll stop, but I must close with this picture..

Another typical day at work...

Just to jog your memory, I moonlight as a relay operator wherein I type what I hear and voice what I read... this service is ostensibly for the deaf...

Caller: Operator, I am calling in sick at work. Please dial the USPS...
Operator: One moment... (thank you. dialing number)
Ringing 1...
2...
[Automated Machine]
Operator: Please enter your United States Postal Service Employee Identification Number...
(entering number provided)
For status of vacation hours press 1. To provide a reason for possible absence press 2. To hear a list of...
Caller: Press 2 pls.
(pressing 2)
Operator: For absence due to... Illness, press 1. Emergency, press 2. Community Disaster, press 3.
Caller: Press 1 pls.

The call went on a bit longer, the machine prompting for dates and shift times etc. (wherein it became evident that you could call in sick a week ahead...) But my perplexity stops at the pithy phrase Community Disaster...

First... they imply that you have to call in if you have a community disaster. Assuming that would be in your hastily sketched list of priorities... "Oh fudgeyfingers! The reanimated corpses of the Jehovah's Witnesses have trapped us in the cellar and there's me leaving my cell phone in my other pair of slightly-less-soiled pants. How am I possibly going to inform my work about my impending absence?"
Can you imagine getting called on that by your Team Manager? "Well Todd, we're very sorry about the cyclone and all but we did provide an opportunity to call ahead and let us know. Help us help you Todd."

Second... what in the name of Zeus's foreskin IS a community disaster? A rained-out bake sale? A blackout during American Idol? I can just see a Postman telling the operator:
Caller: Press 3 please operator.
(pressing 3)
Operator: Please state the nature of the community disaster after the tone (beep)
Caller: Say Me, motherfuckaaa!!!

Tickle Monster

So I'm researching a story by entering "Tickle Monster" into search pages, and other than being marginally titillated by the hits that come up (from fetish sites to mommy-blogger posts), I am also stumped.

I KNOW that there's a russian tickle monster myth out there somewhere, but I just can't find it. I get returns on Tickle Me Elmo (which I remember thinking 10 years ago would be funny if there was a Tickle Me John Paul II), the differences between knismesis and gargalesis, why it is impossible to tickle yourself (efferent and afferent nerve synchronicity), tickle-torture, kinship bonding, foreplay and combat. And these are well and good and feed 'the source', but I really need the myth to draw upon...

In the meantime, here's some etymology for both of you...
tickle could've arose from middle english kitillen which could've giggle forth from old norse kitla...
and then there's the clitoris...
Greek verb κλειτοριάζειν kleitoriazein "to touch or titillate lasciviously, to tickle," but that could also be taken from the greek noun for 'little hill'...

now to approach the idea of tickling again takes on a curious dark overtone: there's a fine line of consensus in tickling... people moderately like to be tickled, associated as it is with youth... but people like to tickle more, and they generally like to tickle 'downwards' = older tickle younger... but then what does this say about the gender divide? statistically heterotickling happens more than homotickling... and when polled, guys liked both to tickle and be tickled more than girls... some researchers link it to phylogenic behaviour of learnt combat, but codified by the heavy panting sounds associated with rough-housing that have been ritualized into vociferous laughter... and tickle-mobs readily happen, one person being the bladder-strained victim while the others chant 'tickletickletickle'. and sometimes just the chant is enough to make someone squirm.

ok, i'm way above my head here... i can provide information on the tickle poll later if its needed...

weary repose... pound for pound a hammer is the tool most economical

this summer is a strain. i feel diplomacy dissolved by lactic acid wracked muscle groups resulting in severed social ties. and the bitter sense of betrayal it promotes. the ebb and flow of creative tides, the warp and woof of life beyond the maniacal 'me', with scant time to sacrifice a few gizzards to. a physical landscape harried by staggeringly poor reconstruction. unending pennilessness. a deep hollow of missing friends and lover. a carpet of sharded mirror-glass, razors of future. it goes on.

but there's shoots of loveliness peeping through the entropic fields. snatched moments in transcanadian bbqs and long-distance party-parties. oases of pool dips. herb gardens. meandered strolls down the alleys. the rain. and the glory of others' efforts... loopy's opened a blog which i can't help but whoop over: www.thinkingintype.wordpress.com. baby's got blog!

whoop.