You KIDDING me with this?

Okay, inspiration has been low lately, I admit. But as I was passing by The Tannery this morning on my way to work, I noticed yet another affront to good taste staring at me from their window. (This is the space that used to be Jasmine Sola, another affront to good taste and common sense, where one could buy a terrycloth tank top in the fluorescent color of your choice, for a mere week's pay. Honestly.) And I thought - well, maybe it's time for an ugly shoe rant. What the hell - haven't done one in a while and I have precious little else to bitch about these days. May as well utilize what little inspiration the world throws my way.

Now, I realize I'm no fashionista. Years of being able to wear jeans to work and never having to dress up have narrowed my wardrobe down to these basic elements: Jeans, sweaters in various shades of green, gray or black, t-shirts, workout clothes, sneakers and boots. Let's face it, if it's not made by Timberland, Doc Martens, Converse, Nike, Levi's, or Carhartt, chances are I won't know what the hell it is or what it's for. This means that every day of my life I'm basically wearing some color variation of the same basic outfit. While this may not be very interesting, it is comfortable, functional, easy - and I can get dressed in the dark without worrying that I'll leave the house in something embarrassing.

But every once in a while, when I turn my blinkered and sleep-encrusted eyes towards something that's so egregiously UGLY, so unbelievably HORRID, there is some little tiny part of my brain that reacts to it and wants to assert that somewhere waaaaay down deep inside this utilitarian soul, there's a sense of style with an actual voice that says "HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE MISSUS, what is THIS? Why...oh, WHY does the fashion industry hate us so???"

But honestly, is a rant really necessary? Do I have to spell out what's wrong with this picture?

Fucking Hell. Stop it. Stop it now.

Rabbit, Heal Thyself!

I have decided that the most likely cause of the dizziness last week was simple malnourishment. Realized that between all the work, worry about the cat, and a tendency to forget to eat (also sometimes the idea of mastication is just vile and I have NO idea why - but it IS, isn't it?) that I am simply not getting enough calories. No amount of vitamin water or pills will replace real food. You don't stay healthy by supplementing a shite diet with vitamins in pill form or by additives in your water. Chirren, you got to give your stomach something to DO.

You need protein, whole grains, greens, fats, and - sorry Dr. Atkins - enough carbs to keep the energy going and give your metabolism a shot. So, I'm probably going to gain a few pounds in the coming weeks, as I increase caloric intake. But it will even out and I'll probably lose it again once my system makes the adjustment. Naturally, this means I have to increase the workouts - all the vitamins from food don't mean squat if you don't get the oxygen and endorphins going and zipping around your carcass like a bunch of horny frat boys.

And with that image, I leave the computer to throw my face into a pile of dinner (vegetarian shepherd's pie and steamed broccoli - with full fat ice cream for dessert and maybe a nice little Rioja) pop in a DVD, and contemplate how I'm going to get steroids down my cat's neck twice tomorrow without having my arms shredded to buggery.

Ah, Saturday night. Envy me, you worms!

SICK

Anyone out there ever have a middle ear infection?

I am dizzy, can't stand upright, everything is spinning and I'm typing this with my head sideways on my desk.

No fever, no cold, everything else fine (even my goddamn foot feels good) but the world is spinning out of control and I didn't even get the pleasure of getting drunk first. This is SO unfair.

Staying home from work today since I'm unsafe to drive and the vet's coming to look at Luna anyway.

But anyone got any suggestions for what this might be?

Rock THIS!

If I ever had to play a sport and the other team did this? It would scare the living shite out of me.

I don't know why I went looking for a Haka in YouTube - I had NO IDEA the New Zealand rugby team did it. Fucking rapid, man.

Have a great weekend everyone. I'm off to hold up a liquor store by sticking my tongue out, slapping my thighs and shouting. If I do this right, they'll hand over the goods, I'm thinking.

A strange contentment.

They say that when you dream about wandering around unfamiliar houses, opening doors, checking out rooms, going up and down stairways, etc., that you are actually wandering around in your subconscious.

This is extremely disturbing and I'll tell you why: two nights ago, I had a dream I was wandering around in a big old house, going up and down stairways that led nowhere, opening doors into empty rooms, and tiny, empty closets. The point is that if this is my innermost, private consciousness - why the fuck was it so empty? I can't even bother to FURNISH my own subconscious mind? Am I that lazy? Without depth? Sans dreams, fantasies, issues, and resentments? It CANNOT BE! Alas, were it not for the eventual company of my three cats, who followed loyally throughout my spiritual wanderings, the dream was bereft of anything of interest at all.

I mean, I'm not a particularly deep person, but I'm certainly not shallow. I'm reasonably intelligent, and have certainly lived long enough to have something going on in my innermost soul/mind/spirit besides all this...nothingness.

Though it does explain why, for the past several weeks (or even months, really) I have had absolutely NOTHING to write about in this blog. Nothing. I've been so busy with work (both the real job and freelance - got an unsolicited raise in the real job, and have enough damn freelance work to possibly pay off the truck in a few months, thereby allowing me to give up the transcription entirely - oh blessed day) that I haven't even had the time or energy to get hacked off about the usual shite that people like me get pissed off about (Iraq, Bush, Anne Coulter, NASCAR, people who can't get off the damn phone, even while driving, etc.).

Can it be that with the Red Sox having won another World Series, and that I now own a home, and that I'm reasonably content with my job, life, health, family, friends, etc., that I aspire to nothing? Resent nothing? Bear no grudges? Have no axe to grind? No dreams to fulfill? No further itchings, leanings, aspirations? Huh.

Is this a Zen thing?

Buggered if I know. But I have to figure out what to do with this blog if I'm not going to come on from time to time and have anything to say.

Everything's just fine now, really.

Um. Thanks for asking.

Derek & Clive

DeLIGHTful.




I love a bit of poo humor of a Friday.

Isn't YouTube a bored blogger's best friend?

This is not a kitty blog.

Ce n'est pas un blog de chat.

Pathetic. Another entire roll of film developed, and it's 90% cat pictures. I need to get out more.

Why, when I were a lass...

Halloween MEANT something.

Well, folks. Halloween at the Rabbit Warren wasn't quite the extravaganza I'd been banking on. Not even CLOSE to the Halloween displays I remember from my youth.

There I was, all dressed up in stripey stockings, witch hat, skirt, boots, with my HUGE... bowl of candy, Gregorian chant wafting out the windows, lights on, black cat displayed proudly to all who approach my front door.

Here's who rang my doorbell and said trick or treat: Two diminutive fairy princesses, and one 5-child assortment of pumpkins and clowns. Not enough to justify my outfit, and CERTAINLY not enough for a decent stew.

I felt a right twat for getting all dressed up. And now I have to resist eating all these M&M's, 100 Grand Bars, and Kit Kats we bought. And believe me, that skirt I had on, the one I haven't worn since 2002? So I couldn't even zip it up all the way. Now this just suuuuucks.

But I found this picture and Blogger let me load it, so this is for you, FMC. A sad little dog in a sad little witch hat. Where are all the wee 'uns? Not here. Not here...