Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Global Warming

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We were allowed to buy a fish bowl and two fish once.

My brother got a black angel fish and named him "Vlad the Impaler," and I got a little fairy like something fish with long fins.  I called her "Fluffy."

My brother's fish was all over the place, jerky movements, up, down, never content.  I am pretty sure he was a street fish and coming off of meth, or blow, or something like that.  He was antisocial and his family never called, ever . . . not even once.   My brother said he was a warrior and he was looking for other fish he could kill, rip their heads off, and impale on a spear.  He warned me that Fluffy didn't stand a chance, it was just a matter of time.   

Monday, January 25, 2016

Life is a Race to The Finish Line.

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You know when you are a kid and walking down the hall at school and then someone comes up and you realize is walking beside  you?  And then you speed up a little, and they speed up to keep up with you, and you speed up and pull ahead, then they are beside you again and you both look at each other and it is on!  He passes you, and you catch up, elbow him and move out front and finally you quite pretending to walk and break into a full neck run, at precisely the same second and before you know it, without a single word spoken between you, you are both heading for the finish line at the end of the hall, leaping over other students in your path, bursting through armfuls of books and NEEEEEEDING the win!   


How come there is no-one ever there to give you the first place ribbon?  That take a lot of skill and effort, and let's face it . . . someone could have died.

Copy Cat. Copy Cat.

COPY CAT


Ever since I joined Second Life, issues of copyright have been argued.  In the beginning it seemed to centre on people who had their work stolen and reproduced to sell in SL.  You had people who had their  whole SL for free off the backs of designers and artists who spent hours working on something so they could make a few Lindens.  I don't think anyone saw any grey with those arguments.

I am not a designer so I know nothing about the process and if I come across as being disrespectful to the talent or the hard work of the process then I have really missed the mark because I have nothing but respect and appreciation for anyone who makes the effort.  It is because I do not know all that is involved that it becomes muddy for me.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Magical Moments

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We went to visit some people once.  I don't know why.  If you knew someone years ago and never stayed in touch, I don't get why people think it is a good thing to renew things.  Like maybe the people were doing you a favour and keeping Uncle Herman from eating another one of their good friends?  Maybe the people never liked you in the first place and they are just too polite to tell you that "no, they really have no interest in seeing you again."  Maybe they only are having you over because they can't remember who you are and have you confused with someone they actually like.  Or maybe, they forgot all about you  and they hate to miss out on an opportunity to rub it in someone's face that they hit the big times.

Oh ya I know, maybe they really missed you too and are dying to have you come over. 

Get real, and stop reading my blogs ok?

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Left Out In The Cold

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Living in a cold climate has lots of advantages.

When you are doing the big family dinner and you run out of fridge space - just open the door and voila - more fridge and even freezer space.  You never waste time waiting 3 hours for a cake to cool down so you can frost it.  You just have to be sure that you have someone stand guard against the crows, the magpies, foxes, coyotes, dogs, cats, skunks, mice, deer, wandering neighbours and the abominable snowman.

You always have extra ice - just make sure it is not yellow - unless the punch is lacking flavour or someone swallowed a jelly fish.  (It can ease the pain.)

Friday, January 15, 2016

A Hole in One, or Two . . .

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Holes in the pants as fashion.  

I tried that with nylons.  The first time I got a run in my nylons, my grandmother looked down at my legs and gasped so loud everyone turned to see what the problem was.  She was an expert at making it look like it was me by scolding me to be quiet.  She pointed at the hole in my nylons in complete disgust.  I tried to argue that this is what happens when you have to scoot down an old wooden bench in church.  Why is that no-one walks to where they want to sit and then sit down?  What is the point of sitting down at the end and scooting along  like complete idiots?  And why was she yelling at me, take it up with the janitor who hadn't polished the damn things enough to keep all the little bits and pieces shellacked into place.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

All's Well That Ends Well.

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When you move to a small town community, women don't tend to dress up much. 

Well, actually, compared to the many times they appear to roll out of bed and onto the floor, discover some rumpled clothes under the bed, pry off what food can be pried off, attempt to wear something that might not even be theirs,  tear a few strategic holes to make it fit . . . They do sometimes put more effort into it.

Friday, January 8, 2016

I Was Hip And Aware Once.

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The whole sheep look was big when I hit my teens.


We were not into neat wool or coloured and reconstructed wool made into cable knit moose cardigans or curling sweaters.  We wanted the sheep with the  "just got out of bed look."  We were all about the natural back in the day, which of course completely explains tie dyed clothes, destroying really pristine jeans and making them look weathered and torn, and of course drugs.  But they were drugs we got from the health food store of drugs . . . not some big chain of careless drug dealers who probably mistreated the chemicals and plants and forced slave labour to get them into cute little baggies.  Our drugs had no added preservatives or colourings and were grown in virgin soil in the mountains by monks that chanted and meditated while they worked and who washed their hands in yaks milk before they even got started.  

Just so we are clear that we were responsible drug users.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

The Reason for The Season and Why You Thought I Died.

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I escaped over the past few months.  I slipped off the restraints and ran naked into the night.

Ok that sounds a lot more poetic than it actually was.  I packed and drove to the airport.  Then I came back, only I had a bunch of shit to do and ya ... Christmas . . .

Anyway I am sure many of you are lying on your death beds waiting for some word that I have returned so consider yourself worded.  I have returned.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

My Long and Fruitful Life as the Canadian Snow Queen.

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As much as I like the idea of the gauzy nakedness usually associated with fairies and queens of the warmer months, winter had a kind of intense appeal to me. 

It was probably just rays of practical logic, systematically bursting my childlike imaginative enthusiasm, letting me know that naked was probably never going to be my forte and that being as summer is like a nanosecond on the yearly timeline of programmed seasons for my life, snow was a much more practical choice.  Failing in any required area for a fairy queen was pretty much going to put me out of the running.  It was like being a skater.  No matter how great your spins are, or your triple toe loops, if you can't nail the salchow, you are never going to make the Olympic podium.   One has to be able to carry a crown on top of your head without it falling off, and anyone who can fly, pretty much is guaranteed a fairy queendom.  Oh, and if your butt crack has a tendency to eat the lace ... forget even making the top ten.  Skaters butts must be able to carry off lace. 

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Red, Red WHINE.

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Red is supposed to be all about passion and sex which begs the question what is really happening when those dudes put on leotards, a funky hat, and wave a red cape at a bull that is steaming mad.

These are questions that I think of but I am not supposed to ask out loud.  Hence I am typing with mittens and I have bubble wrapped my room.

The Great Escape

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My brother and I made several attempts to escape the farm before we finally succeeded - me having worn out the ill equipped teachers at the little school on the prairie resulting in a town meeting, a huge collection of money and stern threats if they did not ship me off to a better school where they could find new stuff to keep me entertained, and my brother . . . in the back of a police car.

Friday, October 23, 2015

In My Spare Time I Misbehave

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I like to go to the furniture places in SL and jump on the couches and the bed.  It is lots of fun.  When you try that stuff in Rl people get bent all out of shape.

I think it is because Rl limits us  in ways that SL does not.  First of all wearing evening gowns to furniture stores is frowned upon for a few reasons.  You make all the other women look like complete crap and it can ruin marriages.  One minute a couple are shopping for a new coffe table and the next he is trying to trade hid wife in on a new model.  Literally. 

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

The Name Game

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I always wonder about names.  Like, does the name you choose predetermine their destiny?  

I am pretty convinced it does. 

"Tiffany" works fashion or beauty.   "Bambi" is a stripper.  "Elizabeth" works in health care and "Olivia" is a lawyer.

I've never heard of a "Cheeves" or a "Jeeves" as a president or a doctor.  They always seem to be chauffers or butlers.  

Monday, October 19, 2015

Just Like Nature Except Not As Fluffy

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The weather is getting warmer and I love being outside, hanging with my favourite tree in my yard.   I love trees.  I think it is because they have been here forever and have seen so many things and I wonder about that.  They seem so wise and they listen so well. 

Sunday, October 18, 2015

The Art of Losing The Win.

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Aren't our lives blessed by the internet and all the information it imparts?  What I like best is that you can take an idea and run with it.  Someone decides that you can crochet a skirt from old underwear and shows you how to.  You can take that, pick up some old sweat socks and jock straps and make lace to add as an embellishment.  You can see a picture made of beer bottle caps and decide you could also make a wedding dress from them  (and add the lace that you previously made).

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Plump Up The Volume

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I am not sure about this one but I heard that there is a treatment they use in Bangkok to increase breast size and to reduce wrinkling etc.

Let me describe: Take hands, slap the crap out of face or breasts, repeat, repeat, repeat vigorously, stop, wait a few moments, good to go.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

My Bat Beats Your Bat, Hands Down

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We have little bats in Canada . . . little teeny bats that could pass for slightly plump moths.

And that crap about them flying into long hair on purpose .. . Pulllease .... Bats are not blind.  In fact, once on a late night trip out by the haystacks to sneak a kiss with my boyfriend, a bat flew into his short hair and skipped mine completely.  Those are respectful bats.  Those are Canadian bats.  

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Getting Culturized

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I did a craft class once where we made Oriental hair sticks for our hair.  They bought chop sticks  which many of the boys immediately sharpened into weapons.

It was a summer camp and we were being culturally stimulated.   Some kids were making Mexican pinatas and we were doing Oriental hair sticks.  Can I tell you how lucky we felt?  You might want to re-experience the excitement by leaping in the air and shouting "wooo haaaa."  It's part of the multi dimensional blog experience I offer by encouraging readers to recreate my most incredible moments.  Bliss .. the gift that keeps on giving.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

COSMOPOLITAN 3rd ANNIVERSARY EVENT

Cosmopolitan 3rd Anniversary Contest (1)

What you can't see off screen is the pinata, the ambulance, and the wounded bodies.

I tried to talk people out of having a pinata.  I warned them that I was incredibly competitive.  Why don't people listen to one another more?  I was using my outdoor voice and everything.

The really pretty lady announced that they were going to play games and I said, "Oh No, maybe we shouldn't.  Did you get the note from my mom warning that I don't play well with others, you should hide all weapons and anything that could be used as a weapon - please do not under estimate my genius when it comes to making weapons out of simple things like bananas and a block of tofu, and absolutely no games - I am incredibly competitive, consider all games, even bible charades,  as contact sports and frequently end my games only when the other people are injured, maimed, or dead."

I was still invited.