Over the river and through the woods..

Once a year, my employer hosts an annual general meeting in which we account for ourselves to our membership (our real bosses). It's mostly a working weekend, spent in some mediocre hotel somewhere in the province but this year we're going somewhere quite nice - the Humber Valley Resort. The downside? It'll take us about 10 hours to drive there. And as anyone who's ever travelled the Trans-Canada Highway knows, that'll mean trees and trees and road and more trees. And, we hope, no moose.

From the Newfoundland & Labrador Tourism site
Watch Out for Moose There are about 110,000 moose on the island of Newfoundland, and most highways go through good moose habitat. Moose are great to look at - from a distance. If you see one on or near a highway, use extreme caution, slow down and prepare to stop. Like all wild animals, moose are unpredictable. Be sure the moose has either crossed the highway or gone back into the forest before resuming your drive. Also, if you see a vehicle stopped on or near the highway, the driver may have spotted a moose, so be cautious. Avoid driving at night if possible as most moose vehicle accidents occur between dusk and dawn. If you must drive at night, slow down. Scan both sides of the highway with your lights on high beam unless overtaking other traffic, and pay attention to warning signs. A road sign like "Caution, moose next 11 kilometres" means moose cross there frequently.

The Rabbit of Seville

Thanks to Kat for unearthing this gem. It's one of my favourites. Unfortunately, because of my misspent childhood watching these cartoons, there are some classical suites I will never be able to hear without seeing the Looney Tunes video in my head... and this is one of them.

Now to find The Scarlet Pumpernickel...

Rubber pucky

With apologies to the Children's Television Workshop... or whoever... also, proof positive that I am a loon. I make no apologies, however, this just popped into my brain and I felt you should suffer it also.

Rubber pucky, you're the one
You make hockey lots of fun
Rubber pucky, I'm awfully fond of you

Woo woo be doo!

Rubber pucky, joy of joys
When you hit me, I make noise
Rubber pucky, I'm awfully bruised by you

Every day when I
Make my way to the rinky
I find a little fella* who's
Round and all black and dinky

Rink-a-dink-dinky!

Rubber pucky, you're so fine
Hope you never make me blind
Rubber pucky I'm awfully scared of you

Ow-ow- ieoooo!

*Update - Fella, in this case = hockey puck

Posters and penquins and ducks, oh my!

I am exhausted. With a friend, I posted 120 posters advertising our auditions for the next play.














There are strategically placed posting boards all throughout the downtown area, as well as slightly more unortohodox spots...













But it wasn't all work. While we trundled about seeking appropriate posting spots, of course we did some popping into shops to admire all the pretty things we can't afford and I did some Misty-style "oooh clicky" with my camera.

Some artwork lines the walls of one of the alleyways downtown.















A hockey game that even Mr. Scary Duck TM could sink his beak into was advertised on a bar door.














And I found the pinnacle of knapsacks. The penguin pack. They come in all sizes, from a full adult-sized pack down to an eensy weensy one. And the best part? There's a sqeaker in the beak.



And of course, we had lunch...

This all took about 6 hours... and now? Time for a nap...

Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna eat a ...

...nematode. Welcome to the science corner of our posting program...

Ain't he cute? I think I'll name him Erwin, in honour of the artist Erwin Wurm. His real name is Caenorhabditis elegans but I can hardly stick my head out the back door and call him for supper* using that moniker, now can I? Mostly because I can't pronounce it. Not that I could see him if he showed up... even at their most robust, these little guys only grow to 1 mm. That's almost invisible to you and me, Rusty.**

Okay, I confess. I don't know from nematodes, except what I've gleaned from Wikipedia and Google over the last 3 and a half minutes and a vague recollection from my high school biology classes of them being wormy and very, very small. And they're hermaphrodites, which must come in handy... sometimes... like in a bar, where you could take yourself home and tell everyone you got lucky... and only be partly fibbing...

All of this is in aid of presenting one of my favourite commenters with something I thought might amuse him that I found whilst surfing. The Nematode Songbook I couldn't just email it to him. What fun would that be?

Apologies to anyone who finds squirmy things, even microscopic ones, icky. Pretty colours, though, huh?



*Get it? Call him for supper? Tee hee!

**Extra points if you get this reference.

You can fight City Hall

I have a new focus for my wrath. A new mission, if you will. And I do accept it. I need to get the "No parking here to corner" sign moved from one side of my driveway to the other.

I live at a T-intersection that has an elementary school across from it. A couple of years ago, signs were put up on each side of the street prohibiting parking within 6 metres of the crosswalk. Unfortunately, the 6 metre line falls just short of my driveway and the one across the street, so people who park right up to the sign block access to our driveways.

Which wouldn't be so much of a problem if people were reasonable and moved with good grace when we residents need to exit or enter our driveways. But people are rarely either reasonable or graceful.

People have gone from merely shooting me dirty looks, to muttering obscenities because I had the audacity to want to use my driveway when they were waiting to pick up their child who can't be expected to walk 4 or 5 car lengths, I mean really lady, as if! Then there are the truly inconsiderate souls who leave their vehicle parked across my driveway and go into the school, leaving me wondering when, or even if, they are coming back. For all I know, they could be merely crossing to accompany a younger child back to their vehicle, or they could be going in to volunteer for the entire afternoon.

Yesterday, a huge 4x4 cab-and-a-half monstrosity of a truck was sitting right across my driveway, completely blocking it, just as I was leaving to go back to work. I came out of my house, climbed into my car, started it up, thinking surely the driver would have the good sense and grace to pull ahead temporarily and allow me to exit. Did he? As our good friends on Coronation St. would say, "Did 'e 'eck as like!" He watched me (we're talking eye contact, here, he saw me, oh yes, he did!) get in my car and chose that moment, that exact moment, to get out of his truck and walk to the back of it.

Why did he think I was getting in my car? More comfortable seating than my living room? Better heating? Better stereo? Surely not that I might want to drive... like now???

So, I laid on the horn, so as to gently dissuade him of any misconceptions regarding my intentions. To his credit, he caught on immediately, interrupted whatever vital functions to which he was attending and moved his truck.

And so it entered my head that I had had enough and perhaps asking that the sign be moved to the other side of my driveway might be reasonable. And that's when I noticed that the sign on the other side of the street had already been moved! The new location is directly opposite where I want the sign on my side of the street to be... how convenient.

City hall doesn't stand a chance.*



*Yes, yes, I realize that on the scale of trials and tribulations in this life, this is really small potatoes. But I gotta blog about something and folks, this is all I got. For which I am appropriately grateful. But the signs, they are a-changin'... or else.

Dawn, explained

The people who created these cartoons are largely responsible for the trainwreck that is my sense of humour to this very day. Enjoy.




Via: VideoSift

Play it again, Sam

Angry Alien Productions has come up with another gem. Casablanca, re-enacted in 30 seconds, by bunnies, in stunning Bun-O-Vision. Here's lookin' at you, kid.

10 Things I Hate About Commandments

Thanks to Jen at When Ducks Attack, I discovered this little gem.

It's delightful, it's de-lovely...

... it's delicious, it's de... about time to de-lurk. There are lots of regular lurkers who show up in my stats but never say hi. C'mon, I know you're out there! I can see you! Just like the nice lady on Romper Room who used to hold up the 'magic mirror' and say, "I see Jimmy and Bobby and Suzie... "

And never EVER say Dawn!!!! EVER!!!!! Grrrrrr!!!

Oops. Sorry. Obviously, I have issues...

Just stop by and say hi. The badgers will love it.

Just like Pagliacci did

Actually it went really well and we had plans for a movie Friday night. Which made it all the more disheartening this morning when I received the email saying he can't see me any more because his 26-year old son is not ready to see dad date yet and he can't lie about where he's going. (Can't lie? What kind of sick sh*t is that?) Not just we have to cool it, which we had discussed and I was in total agreement with should it become necessary. It's not easy seeing your parent with a new partner and I am nothing if not sympathetic to other people's feelings, but he seems to think we have to end it. Not that there was much to end. About a week's worth of emails and phone calls and one actual date. I suppose he may reconsider but the question now is, do I want him to?

Oy vey! I should have joined the convent when I had the chance. No... wait... I'm not Catholic...

Ricardipus - Dude! Fire up the chainsaw, baby! Mama's got some work for y'all! And the invasion is on...

Where are the clowns? Send in the clowns...

Don't bother. They're here. And I am serial dating them.

Figs and ...

dates. Egad. I'm going on an honest-to-God date. With a man who doesn't seem in the slightest like an axe murder. No good can come of this... but blog material aplenty. Stay tuned.

The continuing saga...

Join us in the May 8 "Stuff and Bother" post comments as we tell the continuing story of Recent Events at Poo (sic) Corner.

Ones and twozles

Come join us in the continuing story of Piglet, the AK7 and the tomatoes, taking place in the comments of the Monday, May 8 post...

Stuff and bother

Okay, this idea has been shamelessly stolen from Misty and is inspired by random remarks begun by Tokarev in the comments on the Saturday, May 7 post on Misty's blog, but I'm really, really, really tired, okay? And beginning and ending my sentences with the same word, which can't be a good sign. I'll tell the sordid tale of the theatre production when I get my brain cells back and can write more than 25 words in something resembling a coherent fashion.

So. The routine is, for those of you unfamiliar with the audience participation style of storytelling, I start us off with a sentence and you all continue the tale in the comments box. I’ve started with a Military Pooh theme but feel free to incorporate any characters, scenarios, etc. you wish. And now… on with the story.

We begin (with Tokarev's comment) in Pooh’s house, early one morning… "Bother" said Pooh, as he chambered another round...