A Musical Spin, In Which I Divert Your Attention From The Post That Should Be Here

You may or may not have been expecting a post on tattoos here today. If not, great! You're none the wiser. If you were, ah, I guess you're probably looking for an excuse. Ok, problem number one. When you decide to do a post and give people a lot of time to send you stuff, sometimes you get busy with other stuff and forget to maybe amalgamate all the stuff that they sent until the last moment and then you're all, shit, I don't have time to do this tonight, why do I come up with these stupid ideas? Problem number two, my biggest tattoo is on my back and I can't really take a picture of it which means I have to remember to ask Supreme Leader to do it for me. Three year olds are unreliable photographers.

So after I got my kids to bed tonight, watched my man-crush David Boreanaz on Bones... wait, did I just say that? Whatever. I don't want to pick out curtains with him, just, you know, be like bestest friends. Where was I going? Right, no blog for today. So I get the kids to bed and start washing the dishes when I remember that the buzzer went on the dryer and all the clothes are getting wrinkly. Computer is in the same room so might as well check email, etc and hey! Steenky posted. So I start reading her post while my dish water slowly cools and she posted a Spin and hey! I haven't done this weeks Spin yet. Or last weeks. Or the week before. Shut up. So. So here we are, two paragraphs in and I still haven't got to anything yet. Or any pictures. Here.



No, he's ok. I've been trying to get him to do this.



He just needs a little work. This isn't going anywhere, is it? Ok, here's the last ten songs that played on iTunes while I was writing this and mostly surfing other people's blogs.

1. My Music At Work - The Tragically Hip
2. Young Americans - David Bowie
3. Where We Gonna' Go From Here - Mat Kearny
4. Everything Is Not Broken (live) - John Mayer
5. Obtener Un Si - Shakira
6. The House That Jack Built - Aretha Franklin
7. Hoppipolla - Sigur Rós
8. St Germain - Vanessa Paradis
9. Breathe - Telepopmusik
10. Sullivan Street (live) - Counting Crows

This is kinda stolen from Robin at Cinnamon & Honey. She does a monthly (I think it's monthly) post called iPod 10 which I've been meaning to copy for awhile. Her's are much better though because she writes something about the songs and she's an actual writer which is always a plus. I bet she wouldn't have stared at "her's" as long as I did wondering whether that apostrophe is supposed to be there or not or should she go upstairs and face the mockery and derision of her spouse by asking and then wondering if she's still awake and damn, is it really almost midnight? She probably wouldn't have used 'mockery' and 'derision' together in the same sentence either since they pretty much mean the same thing, but maybe I just liked the way they sounded. What's wrong with that?

Alright, time to drive a stake through this thing. Oh, and I guess I should mention Jennifer at Sprite's Keeper since she's Queen Spinner and is probably wondering why she ever said, 'sure, guys are welcome to spin too.' She is also the most wonderfullest person I've never actually meant, is an amazing mother and looks HAWT in an Ikea mirror and not pregnant AT ALL.

Last song before I publish and go to bed? Trooper, Raise A Little Hell.

Happy Friday.

The Cannons Don't Thunder, There's Nothin' To Plunder*

I'm working on a few things tonight so I don't have time... ah, hell, Lost and Life on Mars are on tonight and I'm tired. I leave you with this to ponder.



The tattoo picture post may or may not be up on Friday so if you still want to send in a photo, you may or may not have a little more time.

*Name that tune. There's no prizes, just know that you're sexier than most. That's right, you.


826 Valencia

Random Tuesday And Grilled Cheese S*x

It's Random Tuesday Thoughts time. Not familiar? Go check out the Un-Mom, no time to explain. Hold on to something.

I went into Old Navy a few weeks back to get my youngest some new sweats. While there I thought I'd get myself a pair too since I was getting tired of hearing Supreme Leader complain she could see my ass through my old pair. Complaining? If I had a web cam I could make a fortune off these glutes o'steel. Anyway, it was shortly after New Year's so the place was gutted. All they had was the ones that don't close off around the ankles. Not big with those since I figured they'd let in the cold. Shut up, I'm an old woman. Whatever. I got them and would gladly live in them for the rest of my days. And they were $10.

I cannot for the life of me tell the difference between my five year old's white socks and Supreme Leader's. She thinks I'm an idiot, but that's a given. She thinks this is very funny. Let's see how funny it is next year when he's taller than you.

We rented two movies this weekend, Max Payne and Babylon A.D. Both sucked. Max Payne had some cool Valkyries in it, but I didn't see the point. You could have taken all of that out of the movie and it still would have worked. I kept waiting to find out he was working for God or something and then it ended and I was all, what the hell? Babylon A.D. ended like they ran out of money and had to chop the script. It reminded me of how they ended Enterprise.

Writer: Um? How do we wrap up four seasons in two episodes?
Baby Eating Network Executive Bastard: Uh... fuck it, say the whole show was an autistic kid's dream.
Writer: That's been done, sir.
BENEB: Really? Ok, then it was all on the Holodeck. Bring in a couple of the old Next Generation actors. Ya, the fans'll love it.

Not that I'm bitter or hold a grudge.

IM'ing with Kat from 3Bedroom yesterday. We were talking about tattoos.

Kat:I love dragons
I thought about getting a tattoo of one, but
I think I am going to go for cherry blossoms instead
Me: cherry blossoms look amazing
Kat: I am doing it cause of the meaning, change and rebirth
it is kinda what my family does each time we move
Me: My dragon has been itching like hell with the change in temperature.
Me again, quickly: Hold on, that sounds bad.
Katherine: hehehe
Me: My dragon tattoo!
Katherine: that was kinda dirty

I taught the boys the 'pull my finger' joke this week. Guess you need to be a guy.

The Wise (Young) Mommy gave me an award last week (under the butterfly). It came with the usual pass it on to yadda yadda rules. It's not that I don't like the rules or the idea, I'm just very laz- busy with the boys and all. Plus, how do I only pick out X number of recipients? It's cruel. Instead, I present her with the grilled cheese porn I promised her.



According to Heinous Petra has some hybrid mixture of Ebola and Dengue Fever so maybe go give her some love. (Dear newer readers, if you enter 'grilled cheese' in the search blog bar up in the left hand corner, this may make a little more sense. Or reinforce why you're not coming back)

Speaking of Heinous, the other day he mentioned that Blogger will only let you follow 200 blogs. WTF? Which also reminded me that I have a blogroll and WHOA! am I ever behind on that! Seriously, if you've been kind enough to add me to yours and I haven't reciprocated, it's not because I'm a stuck up pretentious ass, I'm just dumb. Hence, Dumbass? Get it? Let me know and I'll throw you in. Unless I forget.

Alright, that's it.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Happy Chinese New Year. It's 4706, so don't forget when you're writing your next cheque.



Gratuitous shots of my beautiful children.





Yes, there was a lot of bribery involved in getting these pictures.

Shopping With My Father-In-Law, or A Quaint Afternoon In Hell

Ah, shopping with my father-in-law. If it's not a trip out to Home Depot to test the physical limits of a Dodge Caravan, it's a rice run to Chinatown. Whatever it is, it's always an adventure.



Every weekend we have a father (in-law) and son trip to the grocery store. That is a weekly treat in itself. My FIL has gifts. Skilz. And they are mad. Imagine you are in the meat section, a meat section full of every cut of meat possible from an entire herd of cattle. Imagine one of those thousands upon thousands of packages of meat is broken open and leaking blood. This is the package my FIL will choose. It doesn't matter if it's buried under a literal tonne of meat. It doesn't matter if it's still in the back and hasn't been brought out yet. Hell, it doesn't matter if it hasn't actually been wrapped up yet and put out on display. If it hasn't, if it will be wrapped shortly and fate has determined it will fall to the ground or be crushed under something else causing a tear in the cellophane, my father-in-law will wait for it. His senses are that good.

Beef, pork, poultry or seafood, he will find it. On a good day he'll find more than one. His other ability, which I believe to be supernatural, is to choose a broken package that I will not notice until I'm picking it up to give to the cashier. Why just get blood over the rest of the groceries when you can get it all over your son-in-law's hands? The show stopper though? Bones. Bones are much better because not only do they cause the container (I'm trying to stop writing package. Did you read Steenky yesterday?) to break, but they also stab your son-in-law! I love that. LOVE IT! Wondering what kind of bovine, porcine... um... chicken or fish disease is coursing through my veins as I empty the rest of the cart warms my heart. Or maybe that's the poison?

Last weekend was a trip to Chinatown for rice. Now for all my non-Asian readers, when an Asian family buys rice, it's not a family sized box of Rice-a-Roni. We're talking 50lb bags. Bags plural. My father-in-law likes to tell me about these trips at the last possible moment so I have no time to prepare, either mentally or with an excuse. Joking! I'd never make up an excuse. Honest.

Driving in Chinatown. How does one describe it? The throngs of pedestrians, the stream of cars fighting for non-existent parking, delivery trucks parked in the middle of the street, rabid sea gulls and pigeons, old men with cleavers hollering at you in Cantonese to buy something that, quite frankly, frightens the hell out of you. Oh, and those fifty pound bags of rice? They don't walk themselves to your car so you need one of those non-existent parking spots. (Ok, that's stretching it a bit, they will carry the rice to your car on a dolly, but it kind of spoils the story.) Imagine drinking a six-pack of Red Bull and then playing Need for Speed on your Xbox. Kinda like that. And then your father-in-law mentions, oh ya, heh heh, it's Chinese New Year next week. Ya. It's kinda like that.

Because Making People Smile Is Awesome

I "borrowed" this from Meg Fowler.

Untitled: Part 3

And so, on with my tale of mental degradation. If you missed part one and part two this will seem very strange, but that is my thing so maybe just go with it. Oh, and to the follower I lost yesterday, was it the cheese man? He was dead already, honest. I was just playing with his body for a laugh. Don't leave me. We can work it out.



"Hi, I'm Sarah, Sarah Farad. Thank you so much for bringing me over here."
"No prob, Sarah. Hey, no need for tears, you're safe here."
"Where's your husband?"
"Mohammed's still stuck in the control room. He finally got around to rescuing him but stopped with only a metre of door left to cut away."
"Metre?"
"Three feet."
"Why did he stop?"
"He got stuck on what kind of a welder would be used to cut through a metal door. He started out with an arc welder because it was the first thing he thought of, but then he wasn't sure if that was right or not and didn't feel like googling it. Then he went to bed and he hasn't been back since."
"So you're already in one story, right?"
"Yes. He published us on his other blog back in April of last year. He posted us again on his main blog a few months back and then decided to finally get started on the second part of the story after receiving some positive feedback. Now he's thinking of re-doing the first story since it was so short. Like I really need to live through the Earth being destroyed all over again."
"Are you hungry? We've got pizza and beer."
"Starving, thank you. So this is Los Angeles?"
"Yep. Where are you from originally?"
"I'm not sure yet, he never said in the original story. From his notes though, it looks like he may have me born on the Ring."
"And the Ring is a giant... space station?"
"It was. What was that bell?"
"The elevator. Somebody else has arrived."
"Why did I come in through the fire escape?"
"No idea. There's a lotta stuff we're still figuring out. Kel's been a big help."
"He's the Stormtrooper, right?"
"Ya. He just went to the john, should be back soon."
"Been gone for awhile now. You figure they'd design those suits for-"
"Dude."
"Oh, sorry."
"That's alright. Can I ask you a question...I'm sorry, Pin Stripe just seems like such a silly way to address you."
"I know, that's another thing we can't figure out yet, how to pick our names. Everything goes blank when we try, so we're Pin Stripe and Black Suit for now."
"What was your question, Sarah?"
"Where's the narrative? All this dialogue is confusing."
"We're really stuck on that one. It's one of the reasons we're bringing all the other characters together. Kinda hoping that between all of us we'll be able to figure it out and start using it."
"We think it's our genie in the bottle, once we have that we'll be able to do so much more."
"Oh. My. God."
"He's gigantic. He's... he's not a bad guy, is he?"
"No, he's a good... Jesus, he's big. Seven feet?"
"At least."
"Hi... ah... sir?"
"Fleet Lord. Sorry, he hasn't decided on a name for me yet. What the hell happened in here?"
"Oh, we got bored the first day, started playing with the guns. Um... I'm sorry, but how tall are you? I could have sworn you were about seven feet when you came in, now you look like eight."
"He hasn't decided that yet either. My height fluctuates from outline to outline. Try not to look at me for too long, it'll give you vertigo."
"Ya, my head's starting to hurt."
"Mr. Fleet Lord?"
"That's a little stuffy, (sigh) how about just FL?"
"How did you put the sigh in there?"
"Not sure. Maybe it's because I have so many drafts."
"How many?"
"Thirteen. He's published two on the other blog. Maybe that helps."
"Did you bring anybody else with you?"
"I brought my second in command, Sgt. Jarel. He's taking another elevator up with the time travellers. The President and Secretary of State didn't want to come and none of the others are substantive enough to come over. Even if they did, they'd just be voices. Sorry, ma'am, you had a question?"
"I just wanted to know, er, your height..."
"Genetically altered."
"Fleet Lord."
"No need to salute, Stormtrooper."
"Name's Kel, sir."
The elevator chimed again, this time disgorging eleven heavily armed men and women and one humanoid species of alien.
"Hey, hey!"
"I knew this would work!"
"Humanoid species of alien?"
"Romantic, isn't it. He hasn't decided what I'm gonna' look like yet, only that I need some 'alien' features."
"You must be Sergeant Jarel."
"At your service. May I introduce Captain Sean Decker and his team, the 1st Force Temporal Recon."
"Marines?"
"Kinda. We're made up of soldiers from many different UN nations but we're flying under the banner of the US Marine Corps. Long story."
"I'll say, he put a lot of work into you guys around Christmas."
"Christmas?"
"Earth celebration, I'll explain later."
"Ok, I think this is everybody. We've got some A-10 pilots who don't actually have bodies yet, they'll be joining us on the speaker phone once we get settled down. If you all want to come this way we've got pizza and beer over by the windows there."
"Aren't there two non-science fiction characters over in the other blog?"
"There are but they're barely even referred to. They know what's going on but there's not enough of them to actually interact with. Same thing with Toys. The main character is only assumed at this point and trust me when I tell you that you do not want to meet the rest of the cast."



I find it interesting, but not at all insulting, that I get a bigger response from playing with grilled cheese and toys than I do from actually writing something. Maybe there's a message in there?

May The Cheese Be With You

Stormtrooper 1: Not that I need an excuse, but what brought this on?
Stormtrooper 2: Guy starts waving his hand in my face and tellin' me I don't need to see his papers.
Stormtrooper 3: Ha ha ha! What? He thought he was a Jedi or something?


*Untitled will be back on Wednesday. Sorry but I've got a 'thing' in DC on Tuesday that I just can't get out of.

Untitled: Part 2

*This one has actually been pretty fun to write. I've got a few ideas on where it's going to go now. Hope you're enjoying it. If you missed part one you might want to go here and read or this isn't going to make a lot of sense. Then again, not much I write does.



"So what now?"
"Bored?"
"Hell ya, aren't you?"
"Ya, but what are we going to do? I don't want to try and leave again."
"Me neither, that was... "
"Terrifying would be my word."
"Terrifying is good. Maybe if there was a way across that... nothingness. If we could get to the streets past it."
"I'd say I've never been so scared in my life, but since I haven't even been alive for a week yet it doesn't mean much."
"How do you even describe that blackness?"
"It doesn't exist for him so it doesn't exist for us."
"That scares the hell out of me."
"So what do we do?"
"We made a dragon, I wonder what else we can do?"
"I wonder..."
"What?"
"There's other files in here. Do you think we could, I don't know, get into them?"
"We don't know what kind of files they are though. What happens if we leave? Can we get back? Look, that one's a recipe."
"Herb buttermilk marinated salmon. Sounds pretty damn good to me."
"Sure, but what about the other ones? Ring, Pirates, Toys? We don't know what we might be jumping into. And PH A10? What's that?"
"I don't know, but this is getting boring and we have to do something. Why don't we just take a peak at one or two? We'll take the guns with us."
"We could be getting into anything though. I've come to grips with being a fictional character, but I've only been alive for four days, I'm not ready to be deleted just yet."
"Maybe there's a way to just look in the files."


"Oh, I need to think up some Tums."
"Damn, that was good fish."
"Too bad he doesn't have a beer list."
"What the hell's a guest post?"
"I don't know. I'm sure we could figure it out, but I think I need a nap."


"Sleeping, I could get used to that."
"Lookin' forward to trying that again. Hey,let's try making it day."
"Good idea, I'm gettin' a little tired of the dark."
"Whoa!"
"Ha ha ha! Damn, did we ever mess up this place."
"Man,that breeze feels good. Nice work shooting out the window."
"Thanks. It's a nice view in the day. Too bad about the smog though."
"Dude, let's get rid of it."
"Much better. And what's with the 'dude'?"
"We sound a little too much alike, I'm trying to differentiate us."
"Hmm. So 'dude'?"
"It's something."
"Alright. So the recipe was a definite success, what now?"
"The peek we took into Stormtrooper was enough for me, I don't want any part of that. I'm thinking of maybe checking out Toys. Seems harmless enough."
"Stormtrooper is definitely out, but I think we should be careful with anything we decide to look at. Even though it's called Toys it could still be dangerous."
"Toys?"
"We don't know what we were supposed to be doing but we sure got a hell of lotta guns here. And what about that poor Stormtrooper? At least we got nice chairs and a vending machine. Imagine being trapped on that damn ship."
"Wonder how long he's been on that thing?"
"What the fuck?"
"Where's the ringing coming from?"
"It's back on the table with the guns."
"Lets go."
"I didn't notice a phone, did you?"
"No. Cell maybe?"
"That's why, it's one of those board room speaker phones. Makes sense."
"Should we answer it?"
"Might as well."
"Jesus! That's a lot of static. Hello?"
"Sorry for the back ground noise boys, the helmet doesn't muffle the sound very well."
"Who is this?"
"Kel Al'leth. I'm the Stormtrooper next door."
"Holy shit! For real?"
"Yes. I didn't know you two were here until you looked in earlier."
"Sorry, didn't think anybody noticed."
"I've been in there for awhile. Anything that distracts from that damn ship."
"Is he going to kill you? I can't believe what a bastard this guy is. Is your ship going to crash?"
"Originally he'd planned on... hold on... gettin' a little bumpy here..."
"I'm not complaining about this building anymore."
"No shit."
"Sorry guys. Anyway, he was going to just leave the ending open so the reader wouldn't know what happened, but he's got some new ideas now."
"Excuse me, but how do you know that?"
"He emailed the new ideas to himself from his iPod yesterday."
"You can look at his email?"
"There's a thread from the file because he wrote the original story on the iPod and emailed that in too. Then he copy/pasted into my file."
"We're going to have to figure that one out."
"Hey, why don't you come over here? Get off that damn ship."
"Thanks for the offer, but I can't. I don't know how you two have managed this, but my story already ended so I'm stuck here. Maybe if he opens the ending again with his new story line I can get out, but not until he does."
"I'm really starting to hate this guy."
"Could be worse. Be thankful you're not in Sarah Farad's file, The Ring. He wiped out the whole planet with an asteroid in that one. She's been stuck in a broken section of a space station for months now. No sign of a conclusion yet."
"Good God."
"How could he do that? Why would he do that?"
"To him we're just figments of his imagination, he doesn't think of us any other way. Look, I have to get back, the other guys are starting to look at me funny. If I can get out of here could you guys help me out?"
"Absolutely."
"We'll get you out, friend."
"I don't know how you guys are managing this, but you might want to try keeping a low profile. You're only supposed to be... hell, you're not even an outline, you were just an image he had that he wanted to write down before he forgot. He might not be too happy with what you've done with the place."
"Ok, Kel. Thanks for the advice."
"Be careful over there. You get an opening, you call us right away."
"Thanks guys. Out."
"Well ,this is starting to get interesting."

Untitled

*I thought Lost was new so I posted a picture and explained why I wasn't posting anything else. Then it turned out Lost doesn't start until next week and my easy-out post wasn't going to work. Then this fell out.


The office is empty except for the two men sitting at a large table in the centre of the floor. They are surrounded by a rats maze of cubicles, darkened now in the middle of the night. The floor to ceiling windows that enclose the floor offer a panoramic view of a large city that could be anywhere. The table the two men are seated around is strewn with paper, empty coffee cups, Sharpies of all colours and weapons. Two assault rifles and an assortment of hand guns lie atop everything else. One of the rifles has been stripped down and the taller of the two men sits meticulously cleaning its firing mechanism. The other stares vacantly out the distant window with arms crossed. The coat of his pinstriped business suit is hung over the back of his chair, specks of blood pepper one shoulder.



"Any idea how long we've been sitting like this?"
"I don't know, but my god damned fingers hurt from cleaning this freakin' gun."
"When is he going to start writing again?"
"Is he going to start writing again?"
"What?"
"Look around, this feels like more of an outline, an outline he may have forgotten about."
"Jesus Christ! Forgotten!? "
"How long have we been here? A day? A week? I have no idea, do you?"
"No. I don't even... do you know what your name is?"
"No. Great, I don't even have a name. What about you?"
"No. Do you really think he could have forgotten us?"



"So what do you think our story is? Are we good guys or bad guys?"
"Dunno. Don't feel particularly bad. Although if I was bad, would I feel it?"
"I guess not. Still, this is a weird set up. I mean, what the hell are we in this office for? I don't think we're cops. At least I don't think I am. No badge."
"My hand is killing me."
"What happens when this office fills up tomorrow?"
"Maybe it won't."
"...."
"He's put us in an office building at night and possibly forgotten about us. If he has then why would it turn to day?"
"This is ridiculous. How long are we supposed to wait here? Change of clothes would be nice, I've got blood all over my damn shirt."
"It's a nice suit."
"Thanks. It is, isn't it?"
"Um..."
"Ya?"
"This might sound crazy, but what am I wearing? My visions seems to get fuzzy every time I try and look at myself."
"It's not your vision. Aside from your hands you're pretty blurry. I've been trying not to look at you 'cause it's makin' me queasy."
"Oh, fuck this! He didn't even fill me out!? I'm not cleaning this damn gun anymore! HEY! HEY! WAKE UP, ASSHOLE! WRITE ME SOME FREAKIN' CLOTHES!"
"How did you do that?"
"What? Do what?"
"You stopped cleaning the gun."
"Huh?"
"You stopped cleaning the gun..."
"Damn right I did, my fuckin' hand is on fire!"
"Dude. You stopped. Listen to me. You stopped..."
"I stopped..."
"How did you do it? You've been trapped cleaning that thing forever."
"I... I don't know. I guess... I guess I just finally had enough."
"I can see your face now too."
"Son of a bitch..."
"I'm getting out of this chair...."
"Shit."
"What's happening?"
"I don't know. Hold on..."
"Jesus! You've got clothes! How did you do that?"
"I just thought it and it happened. How is this possible?"
"We broke out of our paragraph."
"What the fuck does that even mean?"
"I haven't got a clue, but I just realized I really need a drink and I think there's a flask inside my pocket..."
"Fuck me..."
*cough* "Oh ya. Here."



"Any idea where we are?"
"Couldn't tell ya, we're in North America though."
"Not Canada? He's Canadian."
"No. It doesn't... I don't know, I doesn't feel like Canada, you know? It's got the look of an American city."
"Wonder what he was planning? Kinda' looks like LA, though."
"How do we know he's Canadian?"
"I..."
"Do you kinda' just... know stuff?"
"Ya. His stuff."
"So we know what he knows then."
"Looks that way."
"This is so bizarre."
"It's kinda' like that movie Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead."
"That was a great movie."
"It was. Well, I guess we never saw it."
"True."
"Thing is, they were just characters brought in expressly to serve one purpose, they couldn't avoid their fate because it was already written."
"I wonder how much we can actually do in here? Do we have any limitations? Can we leave?"
"I can see the streets below now.There wasn't anything there before, but now... it looks a little off though."
"I think it's because he's never actually been here. We're making it from what he knows, but all he knows is what he's seen in movies and TV and pictures."
"So I guess we do have certain limits then."
"What about his imagination though? I mean, dragons aren't real, but if I-"
"Oh dear God..."
"That.. I... I just..."
"You have to stop that."
"Good God, that's a dragon. It's actually a dragon."
"You have to get rid of it. Make it go away! Make it go away now!"
"It's enormous..."
"Look! That whole building is on fire! GET RID OF IT!"
"Sorry, sorry!"
"It's coming this-"
"It's gone! It's gone! It's ok, it's gone!"
"Do not do that again, do you hear me?"
"No. No more of that. I think I need another drink."


*Ok, so I'm just whinging this as I go, but it's past mid-night now and my five year old can't walk himself to school so I have to stop for the night.

Womanizer, With A Twist

You say I'm crazy? I got ya crazy.

Gasted Of Flabber*: Random Tuesday Thoughts

Just to clarify, the Friday pics tattoo addition won't be until the end of the month. Thanks to everyone who has sent pictures in so far.



Courtesy of Keely at The Un-Mom, kinda like Spin Cycle, but not. (I've missed the last couple of Spin's because if I'm not motivated, if I don't have an idea right away, I'll never get it done. I've already apologized to Jen. She mentioned something about Sprite kicking my ass, but I'm not worried, I could totally take Sprite.) Unfamiliar with Random Tuesday Thoughts? It's kinda self explanatory. Here we go...

I was waiting for a call from my financial advisor today because he'd received my pension package from my old job and we needed to talk about what to do with it. I carefully explained to the boys that daddy was expecting a call and to please be quiet. I'm in the back room when the call comes in. Not two minutes later Liam runs in buck naked and squealing like pig. He thought that was quite funny.

That was just before lunch. And you know what lunch means around here. Surprise!

First grilled cheese man of the new year.

Supreme Leader just walked into the room rubbing her tummy. She started saying "pleasantly" which I finished off with "plump," 'cause that's the saying, right? So very very wrong. Apparently she meant to say "pleasantly warm," referring to the sensation in her stomach after sharing a bottle of Smirnoff Ice with me. Ice. There's the key word.

"Thinking of breaking my vegetarianism if only I could find some unicorn meat. I hear it's magically delicious!"

From Dave of Blogography who recently discovered that if you use Twitter, your tweets are "not only archived in several places, but show up in Google searches as well." Who knew?

A few months back I bought some plants for our aquarium, unfortunately we also got a snail along with them. Just one. Did you know snails can reproduce asexually? Forget rabbits. It's like a plague of locusts, only slower.

Saw a rerun of Bones the other day where they were boiling a head to clean the skull off and an eyeball floats to the surface. Sorry, you're not having breakfast, are you? Anyway, this leads me to thinking of an episode of Chuck last year where Sarah (Yvonne Strahovski) is fighting with... hold on...


Ahh, pig tails and gun, give me a moment. Ok. So she's fighting some other girl and in the middle of the fight sequence does a somersault revealing a thong-clad bottom. It played on the eastern networks, but once it had hit the Pacific NBC had edited it out. Dear God, America! You're going to have a new president this month, can we get over the right-wing 19th century view of nudity that's inflicted us for the last eight years? And I say 'we' because it's not just normal Americans who've suffered, think of your neighbours. Horrifically disgusting autopsy scenes are ok, but not Ms. Strahovski's backside? Ten years ago we were watching Denis Franz's naked hairy ass on NYPD Blue! It's time for a change.


Conversation with Connor before bed.

Connor: Daddy, what's a valley-um?
Me: A what?
Connor: A valley-um.
Me: Where did you hear that?
Connor: At school. Mrs. _____ said it.
(Just for you, Vodka Mom)

Wow. This so didn't work out the way I'd planned. Better to write a post in one shot rather than leaving the computer every five minutes to do something else. Well, if you made it to the end of this train wreck I'll give you your money back. What? You didn't pay? Sucker! I just ate two minutes of your day and it was delicious. *burp*

*Not mine. Stole it from Toll of the Hounds, Steven Erikson.

Tilt Shift

The other day, Eric from Oh My God I'm A Daddy infected me with that 6th file, 6th picture meme that's been going around. My photos aren't arranged in files and even if they were, I'm a meme cheater.




See, I didn't even take that picture. That's Amalfi, and while I have been to Italy, I didn't get that far south. Does the picture look a little weird? Click on it and make it bigger.

Back? Kinda looks like a little model, right? How about this?



Looks a bit like a model airplane, but it's a real one at Frankfurt airport. It's done using something called tilt shift which alters the image to make it look like a miniature. I've been seeing these pictures for awhile, but now there's a website called Tilt Shift Maker where you can do it yourself. It's super easy too. I think the effect looks best on cityscapes rather than people, but you can still do some interesting stuff. It can also enhance the colours of the picture as well which is nice. Unfortunately I don't have many city type photos but I did have fun playing with others.







Go try it, but be warned, it's addictive. Oh. This is supposed to be a meme. Um... if you have a vowel in your name you have to try this and post it in a blog that has absolutely nothing to do with the photo. Maybe don't even mention the picture so readers are really confused, 'cause that's funny.

Wall-E Made My Boys Gay

Out there
There's a world outside of Yonkers
Way out there beyond this hick town, Barnaby
There's a slick town, Barnaby



We were looking for the theme song to Wall-E this morning because the boys have been singing along to it. Supreme Leader found the scene from Hello Dolly on You Tube this morning. The boys were transfixed.

I love them no matter what.

Daddy, When I Grow Up, I Want A Minion

Some days, they just open their mouths and gold falls out. Gold. That was courtesy of my five year old. He made me so proud I cried a little.

I wasn't planning on posting today, but I wanted to thank everybody for their support and advice yesterday, that definitely started my day on a high note. And thanks to those who even emailed me with suggestions and links. I appreciate all the effort on what could really just be a bunch of crap. Before I go too overboard on singing your praises though, I should point out that an overwhelming majority of you either congratulated me on killing a clown over New Year's and many actually offered advice on disposing the body. Others totally disregarded the dead body and were more impressed that I let my wife sleep in and made her coffee. Instead of wondering how I blindly lucked into having you follow me, I've come to the conclusion that you've all been committed to the same asylum but have behaved well enough to get limited internet access. Keep taking your meds, kids! Don't be afraid to speak up in your group sessions.

And for the record, I never said I killed the clown. Thanks for your assumptions.

Ok, because this post is in danger of having an actual point, let's jump the rails.

Since New Year's I've read an amazing number of posts referring to vibrators or dildos. In fact, the last post I read before starting this was The Wise(Young)Mommy where Petra made mention of not having mentioned them. So, for the woman who has everything...

Next, People Who Deserve It. As soon as I saw it I thought of a post from Keely at the Un-Mom about some cow who bitched her way into a free dessert and then bitched about that too.

Found both of those on kottke.

Ok, a little programming news. Friday pics. I was inspired by Ryan over at Pacing the Panic Room who recently did a photo post inviting people to send in pictures of their dead Christmas trees. Not only does his look way better than mine, he gave people a few weeks to send their photos in which I think is a lot better than my one week deadline. I should probably link back to last year's Friday pics, but I think I've linked enough. You're family, go look for yourself.

So, my next Friday pic post, as per some back and forth with (one more link) the Man of Steel himself over at Clark Kent's Lunchbox, tattoos. I know a great many of you have them and I want to see them. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Embarrassed? I'll post them anonymously if you're a little shy, just send them. Don't have one but your spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/life partner has does? I'll take that too. Whatever, just send me some ink.

Can't Think Of A Title

One hour ago while I was putting Connor to bed.

Connor: Why can't people talk to pod droids (Star Wars)?
Me: Um... droids don't speak English.
Liam (from his room): Daddy, my bum speaks English.

Half an hour ago.

Me: Why aren't you asleep, monkey?
Liam: Daddy. I want to sleep in your bed.
Me: No, hon, daddy's not going to bed yet.
Liam: I miss you so much when you go to work.
Me: Daddy hasn't gone to work in four months. Nice try.

Now the house is quiet. The boys are asleep and Supreme Leader is working late. Just me and my computer. Me, my computer and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice. Me, my computer, a vodka cooler and my cursor forever blinking...and? And? And? Fuck you, cursor.

I tweeted earlier today about having my 'mo' but not being able to find my 'jo' and the more I thought about that tonight the more it seems to fit my mood. I don't have writer's block or a lack of ideas lately, if anything I have too many. It's just getting them in here that seems to be the problem. I get ideas for stuff all day long. Ideas for posts, ideas for stories, content for stories I'm already writing. Sometimes I write them down and sometimes I don't. In general, my best ideas are the ones I don't write down and forget. How do I know they're my best ideas if I've forgotten them? Screw you, this is my whine.

Thank me. No, go ahead. I just saved you from the paragraph that isn't here anymore. It was terrible. Not in style or quality, but in length and woe. Tolstoy and Celine (not Dion) would have been proud. Sadly, it was so annoying I wanted to slap myself. Let's move on. Forget this happened.

This morning, after taking Connor to school, I ran upstairs to see what SL was doing. Then I noticed the bathroom and thought, take a shower now, while you have time. Then, since I do my best thinking in the shower, I started working out a conclusion to a story I'm writing about time travel. Then epiphany sucker punched me and I realized, if I could actually manipulate time, would I really try to go back and right wrongs, invest in Yahoo or eBay, freeze time and go hang out in the change room at la Senza (Victoria Secret)? Hell no! I'd freeze time and finally finish painting my bathroom. I'd vacuum. I'd work on a story. I'd read a book. I'd take a freakin' nap! Then I could snap it back on and spend some time with the kids that didn't feel like it was being scheduled.

Yes, I've got that out of my system now. Thanks. I'm going to go work on my story now. The one I said I was going to finish by Christmas. Whatever. Now that I'm getting close to done though I'm wondering what to do with it. Post it in the blog it's being written in? Use a Google document? Any ideas? And how does copyrighting work? Not that anyone would want to steal my mental manure, but still...

PS. Some decapitated head humour from my little sister.

The Bitch Is Back

Just when you thought you'd seen the last of 2008...



*Go check out Ryan's Dead (Xmas) Tree Project at Pacing the Panic Room.

ίππος λευκός, or Liam, First Horseman Of The Apocalypse

Every weekend we go grocery shopping with the in-laws. Today Supreme Leader had to work so instead of going home after finishing up with father-in-law, the boys and I waited at the in-laws so we could pick her up when she was done.

I'm lying on my sister-in-law's bed watching TV (her room is a gathering point in the house since it has a computer and a TV that's not showing Chinese soap operas or variety shows)... and I know I had some more sentence that was supposed to follow those parentheses but I suddenly remembered some fresh gingerbread men came home with us and now I'm thinking a few of those bastards need to be drowned in hot chocolate and sent to a better place, like my stomach. Hold on.

GBM: Hey! This type of interrogation is clearly banned by the Geneva Convention!
Me: Interrogation? I think we have a misunderstanding, my gingerbread friend.



GBM: Aaaah! You bastard!



Where was I? Right, so there I am, watching CNN trying to increase ad revenue off Israel's push into Gaza when Liam walks into the room and crawls up onto the bed. Then he carries on climbing up my legs until he's lying on my chest. Liam who has pretty much only heard three words from his parents for the last two weeks, "cover your mouth." Pestilence then reaches out and pulls my mouth open, leans forward and COUGHS STRAIGHT INTO MY MOUTH! What do you even say to that?!



And he eats furniture.

PS. The gingerbread men look like The Fly because the boys decided that M&M's weren't big enough and demanded Auntie use Smarties instead.

Spinning A Resolute Resolution or What's With The Dead Clown?

I was jarred out of a perfectly good hangover this morning when I tried to spoon a cold and bloody chainsaw that was lying between my wife and I. "What the hell is this doing in our bed?" I demanded. Wife bolted upright, grabbed one of my bloody hands and jammed it violently into my face. Then she held up both her clean ones. "If you wake the kids up I promise you a very very long 2009," she threatened with a glare. With that she lay back down and pulled the blankets over her head.

Not wanting any more of that I grabbed the chainsaw and stumbled downstairs to make some coffee. For some reason the front door was wide open. Since I didn't remember coming home, let alone shutting the door, I went outside to check things out. Besides, I had to hose the chainsaw down, I didn't want to scratch the enamel in the bathtub and catch even more hell. Then I almost broke my damn ankle tripping over what turned out to be a half pound bag of peyote. Well, that would explain the weird dreams last night. So there I am, standing half naked in my driveway carrying a blood splattered Husqvarna with my foot in a bag of drugs when I notice my neighbour staring in horror at a dead clown slumped over the steering wheel of a golf car that's parked behind my mini-van.

I don't know what to say. If I have any resolutions this year it's to smarten up. I've got kids now. I've got a wife and a house. If I can't at least dispose of the body before I get home, what kind of example am I passing on to my children? Who killed the clown? No freakin idea. Don't care. The point is, I don't want to be 'that dad.' Know what I mean? So this year, it's all about being a better father.

Happy New Year, everybody.

Thanks Grant for the inspiration for today's post and the lovely holiday sentiments that came with the eCard. And Jennifer, here's my Spin for the Cycle.

I don't know what's up with the prose lately, I'm sure it's just a phase.