Walking home on Tuesday night, I came across the above campaign billboard for the “money and the ethnic vote are the reasons behind all our troubles” party. Now, I couldn’t give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut about the PQ or its leader’s questionable taste in men, although I had slightly more respect for them in their previous leftist state, but couldn’t they at least realise that their methods of publicity try to reflect their campaign slogan?
You know, when you want to rebuild a greener Quebec, we’d feel better if you could at least demonstrate some ability to use a hammer to nail a few pieces of 2 x 4s together. Also, I know spring has barely begun, but was it really necessary to place said monstrosity among dead plants? That can’t be good, can it?
Sunday, after putting it off for a couple days, the milliner and I got away from the city and our mess of a new place and went to our favourite spa to enjoy the sun and, well, relax in hot tubs and stuff. When we arrived, the place was lousy with the madding crowd who had the same idea as ours, but within an hour it had pretty much cleared out and we had the run of the pools and steam rooms.
At one point, we’re in the hot tub, enjoying the view and the solitude, when I somehow (I don’t know how. Don’t ask. I’m hardly responsible for my actions sometimes.) decide that, gosh, I think I’m gonna do the reclining hero pose. Wouldn’t it be cool? My limbs are limber from all this warm water and, who knows, perhaps I’ll reach nirvana from lack of oxygen, being under water and all.
Oh, sure, the bottom of the hot tub is ultra-textured to prevent folks from slipping, and sure, it hurts a bit on the feets, but that’s okay, right?
But, apparently, history will be made on tonight’s Jeopardy. (Anyone think that Alex is starting to look like David Letterman?)
I’m thinking there’s a 3-way tie. I would love to think that they realised their mistake from this summer and that my audition was exactly what they wanted, but I’m not that deluded.
Sure, sure, everyone’s talking about how it’s pi day. Woohoo, go rent a Darren Aronofsky movie.
Personally, I think all this talk of pi day is a nefarious plot to distract us from the real celebration of this day: Steak and BJ. Do not let yourselves be swayed!
The milliner and I got back from the notary this afternoon, finalising the legalese stuff, and are now each part proprietors of a domicile. Why the chickie agreed to enter into a mortgage with me, I’ll never know. I’ll simply chock it up to her being either crazy or loving my patchouli smell.
Now we just have to find a way to maintain said domicile. I’m thinking that, now that she’ll have a proper studio, the milliner will get back to, well, making and selling hats.
Imagine, we could be living in a chapeau shop.
Because everyone else is doing it.
I love how I have a much-fuller head of hair.
We all heard of the Meeting Bingo game, right? Well, now there’s Blogger Bingo! Be the first to complete a row, after which you can post about it! Be the envy of your fellow bloggers! Ensure an increased readership and comments! Yay!
* Kidding! Really! There’s no way to enjoy yourself at the Yulblog.**
** No, no, I’m just yanking chains.
(Shamelessly “borrowed” from the piton, a most excellent site.
Thoughts racing through my head Saturday, as I was telemarking for the first time in over two years:
“Ow! Oh fuck! My thighs! My thighs! Oh my fucking dog, it hurrrrtttssss!”
Hey, at least I have a souvenir.
All this snow coming down, fifteen feet of pure white snow, my skis and tele boots are calling out for me, this may be the only (and last) time to earn my turns this winter.
Problem? Four-season tires might mean I’ll end up in the ditch.
Fuck it, I’ll take my chances.
Wrote (what I hope to be) my last rent check today, after nearly 25 years of doing so. That’s a mortgage right there, when you think about it.
More than two years after mostly casually looking for a place to buy, we’re moving in a couple weeks.
I will gladly accept red wine–preferably from Oregon or California, heck, even New Zealand–in lieu of congratulations.