RTT: ChristmASS

I still haven't seen my favourite Christmas movie yet this year.


Yippee-ki-yay.



Last weekend we were out driving somewhere and had our car radio tuned to a Christmas station. This late 80's electric guitar/synthesizer/orchestral version of Carol of the Bells comes on and Connor gets all excited. "Daddy, it's the music from Halo!" Sure enough, this horrible piece of Xmas music sounds exactly like the background music from the video game. I did look for a YouTube link to the song but I couldn't find it. Just as well, it's terrible. Still, if you find yourself under attack by an evil group of aliens hell bent on eradicating humans at least you've got something Christmasey to listen to.

The other night I was walking to my bus stop after work and I see this woman waiting for a pedestrian to cross the street so she can make a left. And she honks at the guy crossing the road! 'Tis the season to be jolly or not, pull that shit on me and I will key your ass as you drive by. Ho ho ho.


I saw this on Fragrant Liar's blog last Thursday and it was too beautiful not to share.


Seeing a cat with his head stuck up Mr. Potato Head's ass is not something you see every day.

If you've ever lived in a city that's hosted an Olympics you'll know that the Olympic committee can go a little Nazi-ish when it comes to copyright infringement. They put the hammer down on anybody using the name "Olympics" or any form of it as well as any use of the city's name and the date, like Vancouver 2010. For example, there was a pizza place in Vancouver named Olympic Pizza. It's had that name for something like three decades and they were forced to change it. Now, I LOVE the Olympic games and I know they cost a fortune to run, but were they really worried about losing pizza sales? And how exactly to you copyright a 2700 year old event? Anyway, Vancouver based Lululemon introduced a new line of sports wear called the "Cool Sporting Event That Takes Place in British Columbia Between 2009 and 2011 Edition." Heh heh. I'm all for stickin it to the MAN.

Low-rise ass cracky jeans. Mom's, if you want to let me see your bum that's A-OK with me, but your nine year old daughter's? That. Is. Just. Wrong.

Monday night around 9:30 our power goes out. As I'm standing in the middle of my black kitchen I hear Supreme Leader shout down from upstairs, "Hey! The power is out."

I'm just going to leave that there.

Yes, I'm going to pay for it.


Go see the Un-Mom's for more crazy Random Tuesdayness.