Fatty Foods and Comfortable Shoes

I mean, it seems like such a simple device, and look how well it works!

My computer
A copy of the Public Service Values and Ethics
A list of all my passwords.

If future generations couldn't "understand" me with all of that, then they're fucking morons.

I've mentioned it before, but I really hate John Baird.

Dead cat sparks Thatcher rumour

The demise of a pet cat led to the false rumour that Margaret Thatcher had passed away reaching the Canadian prime minister.



Prime Minister Stephen Harper was among 1,700 luminaries at a gala tribute to Canada's armed services in Toronto when word reached him.

They were in the middle of dinner when phones started to buzz with text messages claiming that: "Lady Thatcher has passed away."

Dinner chatter reportedly veered to expressions of shock and reminiscences of the 84-year-old former British prime minister, as news of her apparent passing spread like wildfire.

Canadian Press reports that the rumour eventually reached the ears of Mr Harper. Back in Ottawa, his aide Dimitri Soudas was dispatched to confirm the news and prepare an official statement.

Mr Soudas immediately emailed his contacts at Buckingham Palace and in British Prime Minister Gordon Brown's office.

They had no idea what he was talking about. Lady Thatcher, they informed an embarrassed Mr Soudas, was still very much alive.

About 20 minutes after the rumour mill started churning, a new message began to circulate among the diners at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre.

It was Transport Minister John Baird's beloved 16-year-old cat - whom he'd named Thatcher out of admiration for one of his political heroes - who had died.

Mr Soudas reportedly commented: "If the cat wasn't dead, I'd have killed it by now."

I was in kindergarten when I first kissed a boy.

That’s not entirely true. I should say “when a boy first kissed me”. Another girl and I used to build a little fort under this counter, the boy would be in there, and we wouldn’t let him out until he’d kissed both of us. I suspect she was always first because I don’t actually remember the order.

Being a small town, I was in this boy’s class all throughout school. Yeah, K to OAC. If you think about it, I’ve spent more than half my life around this guy. (Fourteen years, if you’re counting). He was (and still is, as far as I can tell) very smart, tall, wiry, athletic… yeah, we had a lot in common. Hell, our birthdays are only five days apart.

If you can’t already tell, I was in love with this boy.

Making a long story short, every now and then he appears in my dreams. I’m not sure why, because it’s never when I’m consciously thinking of him, but it happens. Honestly? Most of the time it’s naughty… but always with… an emotional connection of sorts.

Come on. They’re dreams.

Anyway, this morning I had one of those dreams.

It’s really weird. I haven’t even thought of him in months and months. But there he was, doing something that I can’t remember, but I woke up feeling good about.

There’s no real moral to this; just an odd bit of flotsam from my brain.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)

I do not have enough nice turtle necks to cover up all of my night-time errors.

Some of the great men in my life.


An interesting point of view (or two, rather) on a cause that is important to me.

Despite the death of whosdaboss, I still cannot resist going for featured commentary.

Pictures are still pouring in, but here is the best of what I have so far:






And by "best" I mean "best with me in it".

Seriously how did anyone ever live without you???


http://www.flickr.com/photos/catiecake/sets/515142/

Hey guys.
I just bought myself a shiny new costume. (A TNG shirt, and it is completely fucking awesome.) My invoice included a coupon code for my next purchase. It expires November 15 and I'm not going to use it, so I thought I'd offer it up to you first.

www.buycostumes.com
BCFFBJK5709

First come first serve.

Please let me know here if you use it, if no one here is interested I'm going to offer it up to another community.

The tall boy was over at my house, watching some TV. (Internet TV, via my PS3, what a great fucking purchase that thing was). Anyway.
He was watching an episode of Glee. The episode was, basically, Bring it On, but with more singing. And creepy old guys.
At some point one of the characters, in cheerleader uniform no less, get all dramatic and says something like
"Oh but how will we EVER pay for this really expensive team thing???"
"Well ladies," I replied, "you need to watch a little movie called Debbie Does Dallas"

OH MAN

Played a game of singles tonight. I FUCKING HATE SINGLES. Mostly because I'm very, very bad at it. I'm talking badminton here. Ah well, it made the one really good player happy. But gods am I tired now.

Not too tired to forgo a post-badminton beer.

Even if I have to drink it at home. :)

A friend of mine has recently had a baby.

I AM NOT JOKING IT IS THE UGLIEST BABY IN LIFE.

Holy shit. It's like... the love child between a California Raisin and Goby (Gobby?).

I keep looking at the new photos, hoping they get better... nope.

I just end up shutting my eyes tight, turning my head away from the monitor, flailing my arma a bit, and then ALT F4ing until it goes away. And then I wish the afterburn on my eyeballs did not stay quite so long.

GODS WHAT A HIDEOUS MONSTROSITY OF A CHILD.

Look at this fucking tool:



(It's a fake hood scoop. That he put on his roof.)

I'd pretty much forgotten that today is Thanksgiving.
Even though my mom called me a week ago and asked if I'd be coming up.
Even though some friends asked me earlier in the week if I wanted to go to their place for dinner.
Even though my badminton friends were all talking about how full they were from big dinners.
Even though I got a call at 3:45 asking me why I wasn't already at my mother's.
No, it was you internets, or more specifically lisagarbage, that really drove the I'm-really-not-having-turkey-today thing home.

That's not a bad thing!

It just makes me reflect on how I seem to be buying into these kinds of holidays less and less.

I mean, if I want to see my family (I don't), I will bloody well visit them. If I want to have friends over, I'll friggin' invite them over. I don't need a special reason to cook a cool meal, I like to do that kind of thing.

I guess I'm just fucking contrary that way.