I hate shopping.
I really really really loathe it.
Especially clothes and shoes.
Last night I realised that now that I'm working in an office environment I need real, decent 'girly' clothes... plus a proper winter coat and fashionable boots that, yanno, don't look like something you clomp around the dirt roads of Lanark County in.
Fine.
I don't want anything special. Just a PLAIN, LOW HEEL, Mid Calf, NO ZIPPER, black leather boot. NO POINTY EFFING FETISH toes, NO POINTY EFFING FETISH heels, kay?
Does anyone on the planet make these?
No.
I have been to every effing shoe store looking for the most basic boot imaginable.
Nada.
When I found a plainish boot with a mere 5" heel that I hope in my most wildly wild of dreamy reveries that my spine might tolerate - then the impossibly petite salesgirl scurryied to the back and out again and utter the inevitable words...
"I'm afraid the largest we have is a size 7."
Oh, right. I must have forgotten that the Fashion industry thinks North America is populated with KEEBLER ELVES!!!
I hate shopping.
THEN, I pick up a nice XL sweater at Walmart. Problem... It's a sweater from their stupid GEORGE line. In George's world XL means a size 10.
I hate Walmart.
And don't even get me started on Machine Sewn buttons that always fall off, DAMN IT!!! Oh yeeeeeah... we can put a probe on Mars that works for three years longer than anticipated, but can we invent a machine that can sew a damn button properly?? NOT!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
The Miracle Manilow
The atmosphere at JA’s is bordering on dour. Lately it seems that everyone's cornflakes have been liberally doused with pee and they all showed up here just after breakfast. Except for M.G. She just finished doing her taxes and she’s bright and smiley like a lost sequin on a pile of steaming poo.
Tonight I’m taking my bourbon straight as I hand over fistfuls of bills to Angie. Her abacus clicks confidently, echoing Miss Snark’s stilettos kissing the hardwood. It’s Celebrity-Charity Grudge Match Night. Goldberg and Konwrath are slithering around the pit warming up the crowd before the Main Event.
“What charities' this for again?” Mindy digs out a doggie treat, dunks it in a tumbler of gin, and tosses it over to Killer Yapp, who snatches it from midair with a graceful leap.
Angie peers at a bourbon soaked flyer on the bar. “If Lee wins, the money is donated to the Repressed Tie-In Writers of America. If Joe wins, the men’s room gets a fresh deodorant cake and he’ll sign any body part with every Jac book sold.”
The crowd roars as a blood-curling scream emits from one of the mudcaked wrestlers in the Pit. “LONG LIVE THE TIE-IN WRITERS UNITED COLLECTIVE!! AAAIIIIEEE!!”
There’s a fire in my gut from the previous three bourbons so I attempt to put the fire out with a fourth. For some reason this does not help.
Bardawill arches an eyebrow at me “You ok?”
“Peachy.” I signal for a fifth bourbon and scan the crowd. I spot a guy who looks like Barry Manilow’s illegitimate son. He sips tea and fakes nonchalance. Gaiman also wears a bathing costume straight out of the Roaring Twenties and a battered straw hat set at a jaunty angle. Across from him, his opponent stares through slitty eyes and a pinchy face. MacFarlane sports a t-shirt with two red M’s emblazed on it with a non-permanent marker. Behind them, dark suited legal types hover.
Dana, for some odd reason, eats chocolate pudding out of a replica of a tiny plastic toilet. “Who are these guys again?”
“Comic book writers. The guy who did Sandman and the guy who did Spawn. ” Bardawill takes a pull from her frothy Alexander Keiths. “This isn’t really a charity match for these two. I hear it's more of a custody battle.”
Near to Miss Snark, a thin, blonde man sits and sips from a glass of ice water. He looks familiar but I don’t think know him. He resembles a guy I’ve seen in a commercial or something. Next to him is a really ugly, short, gray furry guy who alternately drinks from a bucket of scotch/idly trims his toenails with a short sword. Miss Snark eyes the ugly, furry, short, gray guy with distaste for a moment, then moves over a few seats.
Gray Furry Guy puts some gold coins on Todd to win. He then waves Bob over and slurs, “Cerebus wans anudder buggid o’ scotch please.” Gray Fuzzy Guy has a nice voice. Puts me in mind of George C. Scott.
Things escalate in the pit until Lee and Joe slither out of the pit and wrangle each other out the front door and into the street. The patrons carefully step over the chunky trail of jello-laced mud. The loud screech of breaks and two moist thumps draw a crowd to the bay windows. Angie turns away from the open door, motions to Bob to call 9-1-1, sighs, then loudly declares the match a draw.
The crowd settles in to watch Neil and MacFarlane go at it. Dana offer me a $420 cupcake but the thought of overpriced Betty Crockerettes nauseate me. Killer Yapp whines expectantly but refuses to beg. My fifth bourbon arrives and I lean back to bitterly watch the men I know will win in the end. It won’t be Neil. It won’t be Todd either.
I put my money on the men in the dark suits.
The atmosphere at JA’s is bordering on dour. Lately it seems that everyone's cornflakes have been liberally doused with pee and they all showed up here just after breakfast. Except for M.G. She just finished doing her taxes and she’s bright and smiley like a lost sequin on a pile of steaming poo.
Tonight I’m taking my bourbon straight as I hand over fistfuls of bills to Angie. Her abacus clicks confidently, echoing Miss Snark’s stilettos kissing the hardwood. It’s Celebrity-Charity Grudge Match Night. Goldberg and Konwrath are slithering around the pit warming up the crowd before the Main Event.
“What charities' this for again?” Mindy digs out a doggie treat, dunks it in a tumbler of gin, and tosses it over to Killer Yapp, who snatches it from midair with a graceful leap.
Angie peers at a bourbon soaked flyer on the bar. “If Lee wins, the money is donated to the Repressed Tie-In Writers of America. If Joe wins, the men’s room gets a fresh deodorant cake and he’ll sign any body part with every Jac book sold.”
The crowd roars as a blood-curling scream emits from one of the mudcaked wrestlers in the Pit. “LONG LIVE THE TIE-IN WRITERS UNITED COLLECTIVE!! AAAIIIIEEE!!”
There’s a fire in my gut from the previous three bourbons so I attempt to put the fire out with a fourth. For some reason this does not help.
Bardawill arches an eyebrow at me “You ok?”
“Peachy.” I signal for a fifth bourbon and scan the crowd. I spot a guy who looks like Barry Manilow’s illegitimate son. He sips tea and fakes nonchalance. Gaiman also wears a bathing costume straight out of the Roaring Twenties and a battered straw hat set at a jaunty angle. Across from him, his opponent stares through slitty eyes and a pinchy face. MacFarlane sports a t-shirt with two red M’s emblazed on it with a non-permanent marker. Behind them, dark suited legal types hover.
Dana, for some odd reason, eats chocolate pudding out of a replica of a tiny plastic toilet. “Who are these guys again?”
“Comic book writers. The guy who did Sandman and the guy who did Spawn. ” Bardawill takes a pull from her frothy Alexander Keiths. “This isn’t really a charity match for these two. I hear it's more of a custody battle.”
Near to Miss Snark, a thin, blonde man sits and sips from a glass of ice water. He looks familiar but I don’t think know him. He resembles a guy I’ve seen in a commercial or something. Next to him is a really ugly, short, gray furry guy who alternately drinks from a bucket of scotch/idly trims his toenails with a short sword. Miss Snark eyes the ugly, furry, short, gray guy with distaste for a moment, then moves over a few seats.
Gray Furry Guy puts some gold coins on Todd to win. He then waves Bob over and slurs, “Cerebus wans anudder buggid o’ scotch please.” Gray Fuzzy Guy has a nice voice. Puts me in mind of George C. Scott.
Things escalate in the pit until Lee and Joe slither out of the pit and wrangle each other out the front door and into the street. The patrons carefully step over the chunky trail of jello-laced mud. The loud screech of breaks and two moist thumps draw a crowd to the bay windows. Angie turns away from the open door, motions to Bob to call 9-1-1, sighs, then loudly declares the match a draw.
The crowd settles in to watch Neil and MacFarlane go at it. Dana offer me a $420 cupcake but the thought of overpriced Betty Crockerettes nauseate me. Killer Yapp whines expectantly but refuses to beg. My fifth bourbon arrives and I lean back to bitterly watch the men I know will win in the end. It won’t be Neil. It won’t be Todd either.
I put my money on the men in the dark suits.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Sir Reality meets Maid In Canada
In a rather surreal twist that can only happen when you correspond with Dave Sim, I sent him an old fashioned stamped letter through Canada Post a week or two ago - because Dave only blogs by proxy, and I recieved a shoutout/reply via the blog - which I can't answer because his blog doesn't allow comments.
davesim.blogspot.com
If you're interested, I'm right under Neal Adams.
.
.
.
er... figuratively.
In a rather surreal twist that can only happen when you correspond with Dave Sim, I sent him an old fashioned stamped letter through Canada Post a week or two ago - because Dave only blogs by proxy, and I recieved a shoutout/reply via the blog - which I can't answer because his blog doesn't allow comments.
davesim.blogspot.com
If you're interested, I'm right under Neal Adams.
.
.
.
er... figuratively.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Have just finished reading Neil Gaiman's CORALINE.
This as a novel for young adults, and it's STILL the creepist damn thing I've read in ages.
I mean, Neil just puts Stephen King over his knee and spanks him into submission...
.
.
.
er... in a literary sense.
Figuratively.
.
.
.
Yanno.
**COUGH**
Good book.
Read it.
This as a novel for young adults, and it's STILL the creepist damn thing I've read in ages.
I mean, Neil just puts Stephen King over his knee and spanks him into submission...
.
.
.
er... in a literary sense.
Figuratively.
.
.
.
Yanno.
**COUGH**
Good book.
Read it.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Dave Sim (davesim.blogspot.com) always knows how to drive me mental.
ARE THOSE DAMN DIAMONDBACK DECKS AVAILABLE TO BUY OR AREN'T THEY, DAMMIT!!!?
Honestly!
/rant about DVS people.
BARDMARKS Book reviews
American Gods by Neil Gaiman.
Great escapist read. 9.5 /10 BARDMARKS (tm)
Grabbed you by the throat, sat you down, and refused to let go until finished
Went out and bought a few more of his books on the strength of this one alone.
* * * * *
The Rottweiller by Ruth Rendell.
I can't exactly explain why I didn't enjoy this book. I ususally do enjoy RR's work, but this one just made me go "Meh." I reread an earlier Wexford recently - and was still captivated, but her latest just didn't seem to have the same magic. I finished more from loyalty than interest, still hoping for a smash ending or something.
Alas, no.
6.5/10 BARDMARKS (tm)
ARE THOSE DAMN DIAMONDBACK DECKS AVAILABLE TO BUY OR AREN'T THEY, DAMMIT!!!?
Honestly!
/rant about DVS people.
BARDMARKS Book reviews
American Gods by Neil Gaiman.
Great escapist read. 9.5 /10 BARDMARKS (tm)
Grabbed you by the throat, sat you down, and refused to let go until finished
Went out and bought a few more of his books on the strength of this one alone.
* * * * *
The Rottweiller by Ruth Rendell.
I can't exactly explain why I didn't enjoy this book. I ususally do enjoy RR's work, but this one just made me go "Meh." I reread an earlier Wexford recently - and was still captivated, but her latest just didn't seem to have the same magic. I finished more from loyalty than interest, still hoping for a smash ending or something.
Alas, no.
6.5/10 BARDMARKS (tm)
Monday, October 02, 2006
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Bill of Rights for Comic artists.
(Written by Dave Sim and several others.)
"For the survival and health of comics, we recognize that no single system of commerce and no single type of agreement between creator and publisher can or should be instituted. However, the rights and dignity of creators everywhere are equally vital.
Our rights, as we perceive them to be and intend to preserve them, are:
1.The right to full ownership of what we fully create.
2.The right to full control over the creative execution of that which we fully own.
3.The right of approval over the reproduction and format of our creative property.
4.The right of approval over the methods by which our creative property is distributed.
5.The right to free movement of ourselves and our creative property to and from publishers.
6.The right to employ legal counsel in any and all business transactions.
7.The right to offer a proposal to more than one publisher at a time.
8.The right to prompt payment of a fair and equitable share of profits derived from all of our creative work.
9.The right to full and accurate accounting of any and all income and disbursements relative to our work.
10.The right to prompt and complete return of our artwork in its original condition.
11.The right to full control over the licensing of our creative property.
12.The right to promote and the right of approval over any and all promotion of ourselves and our creative property."
Offer Opinions - Discuss relevence to writers/artists of all genres.
(Written by Dave Sim and several others.)
"For the survival and health of comics, we recognize that no single system of commerce and no single type of agreement between creator and publisher can or should be instituted. However, the rights and dignity of creators everywhere are equally vital.
Our rights, as we perceive them to be and intend to preserve them, are:
1.The right to full ownership of what we fully create.
2.The right to full control over the creative execution of that which we fully own.
3.The right of approval over the reproduction and format of our creative property.
4.The right of approval over the methods by which our creative property is distributed.
5.The right to free movement of ourselves and our creative property to and from publishers.
6.The right to employ legal counsel in any and all business transactions.
7.The right to offer a proposal to more than one publisher at a time.
8.The right to prompt payment of a fair and equitable share of profits derived from all of our creative work.
9.The right to full and accurate accounting of any and all income and disbursements relative to our work.
10.The right to prompt and complete return of our artwork in its original condition.
11.The right to full control over the licensing of our creative property.
12.The right to promote and the right of approval over any and all promotion of ourselves and our creative property."
Offer Opinions - Discuss relevence to writers/artists of all genres.
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