SATAN!!!.....(for kids)

I know I shouldn't have guffawed when I read this, since I'm fairly certain it's not intended in jest...but it's so horrible and ludicrous, it's hard to stiffle a giggle.

Bettsy sent this my way and I had to share it. If shit like THIS can get published, there really is no stopping me from becoming a bestselling author, now is there?

PS - for Mr. S, my SIL and other teachers I know, here may be the perfect "behave or else" book for kids.

Scene:

"What? You don't want to do your homework? Well let me tell you a story about little Billy here, who didn't do his homework, fell in with a bad crowd and woke up in a circle chanting in tongues....buhuhuwahahahahaha!" (the evil cackle at the end is a must.)

Dear Awful Library Books, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

"Don't Make Me Go Back, Mommy."

(Thanks bunches, Bettsy, this is a joy to behold.)

Snowed in.

Friday is when the snow started. Twenty centimetres in the first 24 hours. By Sunday there were two feet of snow and the temperature had plummeted to -30 celcius. My car nearly skidded off the road and I helped three cars out of the snow over the course of the weekend.

Crummy as it sounds, it was one of the most truly delightful weekends I've had in a while.

Granted, the snow was a nightmare to drive in, but once out of my little steel box on wheels, I began to relax and enjoy the delightful winter powder all around me (and inside my boots). Even going to Starbucks two blocks away became a 20 minute trek with legs calf-deep in snowbanks and hopping over embankments to cross the street. And it was radness.

Mum and I spent Saturday digging out our cars and shopping for Xmas decorations, which she kindly put up around my apartment the rest of the weekend. I spent the rest of my day with Mr. S, toodling about the Strathcona Farmer's Market, shopping along Whyte Ave and snuggling in front of a movie, warm and cozy, insulated in our snowed-in cave.

On Sunday, I got to share some of my most vivid snow-related memories on air with Mr. S and his merry band of listeners on CJSR. Then I sat and knit contentedly and watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation as Ollie oggled the tree with eyes aglisten.

I imagine there will be a few bulbs on the floor by the time I get home tonight. And strangely enough...I look forward to it with a smile.

Everybody's working for the weekend

Yep, ode to Loverboy on a Saturday afternoon. It don't get much radder, now do it?

Nothing makes the long work week seem more unpleasant than having to come in on a Saturday afternoon. For three and a half hours. To work on 160 pages of speaking notes for a convention. Blecch.

On a positive note, coming in on a Saturday is a good way to focus on the task at hand, since the place is empty, you can crank bad music on your computer if you want to and can wear clothes only a step above pajamas. 

My poor preggers coworker, Mrs. Van B., joined me in the task of proofing and printing 16 copies of the blasted speaking notes for individual podium binders. I pegged her chocolate mood exactly and showed up with a Starbucks brownie waiting on her desk when she arrived an hour later. I figure that buys me at least another ten Karmic points. I'm probably at dung beetle, now. I'm working up to dirty pigeon, but I'll settle for naked mole rat.

Now it's time for home and squeezing in a few hours of real weekend before homework inevitably begins. 

"you wanna piece of my heart? You gotta start from the start. WHOOOOAAA!" *air guitar*

hehehe...

I am so fucked.

Vanity Fair just came out with this article, which analyzes the grotesque lengths to which "cute culture" has taken our otherwise sane, serious society. It's therapeutic, in a way, since I myself am drawn to many of the websites referenced in the article. As the article explains:

"To some degree, we can’t help ourselves. In the 1940s, ethologist Konrad Lorenz proposed—correctly, as it turns out—that we instinctively want to nurture any creature that has a cute appearance...[E]vidence that human beings undergo a chemical reaction deep in their brains when they look at babies....[T]he act of looking at baby pictures stirs up an ancient part of the brain called the nucleus accumbens."

Well, shit. I'd capitalize on this finding, but I think http://www.fupenguin.com/ has already cornered the market. There's something to be said, though, about relieving the stress of a bad day by taking a five minute "cute break" at work. Maybe our society's become so rabid about it in correlation to our overworked, undersocialized, lonely modern existences? It's a recipe to cure the sads. 

Hey, look! A puppy!

A little clever goes a long way

I am not a fan of most protests. Having been to a few during my student years and having observed even more during my working-for-the-legislature days, I'm pretty blase about the whole exercise. Not that protest isn't meaningful. Just that, well...for the most part, the average protest is more about making angry remarks and less about getting the message across. This is why I like irony, satire and the like. They make protest subtle, stabbing the heart of the matter like a swift blade, rather than bludgeoning observers over the head with it like an anvil.

Remember Kanye West's horrible mic-snatch from Taylor Swift at the MVAs? Here's someone's Kanye-take on US healthcare. Brilliant.


ps - a plug for my homeland never goes unappreciated.

A new book to add to my collection

Behold a masterpiece of mockery:

"The Quotable Douchebag: The 500 Douchiest Things Ever Said" by Margaret McGuire. I require a copy for my shelf.

Choice quotes straight from the egos' mouths:

Gene Simmons: “[I] don’t believe there’s any difference between a monogamous and a polygamous relationship. Those are all just big words, like gymnasium.”

I actually find this one kind of funny. Maybe because I don't take it seriously:

Eminem: "I'm a t-shirt guy now. But wifebeaters won't go out of style, not as long as bitches keep mouthing off."

Politicians are silly...

...and making fun of them is akin to shooting fish in a barrel, taking candy from a baby, or any number of effortless cliches.

When done well, however, you can't help but snicker and applaud.

I've worked in and around politics, politicians and policy hacks for a few years now. While I don't consider myself a staunchly political person, I am engaged and have developed into a wary cynic, rather than any sort of commentator. That said, I rub shoulders with and socialize with a broad spectrum of politically-minded folk. I worked with Dave Cournoyer briefly and went to school with Adam Rozenhart. They're both clever and quick, ideal qualities for handling the slippery subject of politics. Kudos to both for their ingenuity.

Sometimes, politicians don't need their asses handed to them. Sometimes, they serve it to you on a silver platter. Schadenfreude, baby.

Ok, that's my dose of real-world for the day. Tomorrow: monkeys!

09.09.09: A Day Without Cats

A meme has swept the interwebs today, according to Urlesque. The powers that be (robots? dogs? Allergy sufferers?) have declared September 9, 2009 "A Day Without Cats."

At 4am today, I would have agreed wholeheartedly and handed my cat over without a second thought. Take her, damn it! Just let me f*cking SLEEP!

But then I catch myself and realize that I wuv my snuggly wittle kitty witty. Ugh. Wait. Did I just go all kooky about cats? Oh...I get it now.

Help save worldwide sanity and avoid the following websites today:

http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/

http://www.cuteoverload.com/

http://www.fupenguin.com/

These are just a few of the worst feline offenders. Perhaps coming to terms with the oversaturation of pussy cats online will help us get back to the real issues that matter. Like otters. And monkeys.

Fuck you, Penguin.

I love stupid websites with cute, furry creatures on them. Got a YouTube video of a dog going down a waterslide? Sold. Adorable kittens riding a Roomba? Done. I've got CuteOverload and icanhascheezburger on regular rotation every time I logon. I get it. I'm a cute freak. But I also recognize the slightly disturbing, off-balance adorableness of my ways. Which is why I laughed when I found this website:

http://www.fupenguin.com/

Yeah. That's right. Screw the cute animals. They think they're so clever. But we're onto them, cynical bastards that we are!

heh heh.

Squirrelizer!

Lest you've been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you've no doubt seen this gem of a photograph on websites ranging from National Geographic to the NY Times to the London Daily Telegraph. It's of a delighful, adorable ground squirrel (or prairie dog, as we Albertans know them) in Banff, dropping a swift, devastating photobomb upon an unsuspecting American couple.

Squirrelmania has reached a fevered pitch, and I came across this website a few days ago that allows you to insert famous Mr. Squirrely Pants into your favourite photo. I've been mucking about with it ever since, inserting him into staff photos, then emailing my coworkers. Hee.

Hipster Douchebags.

Hipster (n.)

Listens to bands that you have never heard of. Has hairstyle that can only be described as "complicated." ... Probably tattooed. Maybe gay. Definitely cooler than you. Complains. Always denies being a hipster. Hates the word. Probably living off parents' money - and spends a great deal of it to look like they don't have any. Has friends and/or self cut hair. Dyes it frequently (black, white-blonde, etc. and until scalp bleeds). Has a closet full of clothing but usually wears same three things OVER AND OVER (most likely very tight black pants, scarf, and ironic tee-shirt). Chips off nail polish artfully after $50 manicure. Sleeps with everyone and talks about it at great volume in crowded coffee shops. Addicted to coffee, cigarettes (Parliaments, Kamel Reds, Lucky Strikes, etc.), and possibly cocaine. Claims to be in a band. Rehearsals consist of choosing outfits for next show and drinking PBR. Always on the list. Majors or majored in art, writing, or queer studies. Name-drops.

Urban Dictionary

I've been accused of being overly-hipsterish. Though I will admit to certain pretentious young person tendencies, I am in no way, shape or form even on the same planet as these folks. The only parts of that definition that apply to me would be my small (like, three shirts) collection of ironic tees, tattoos and scarves. And coffee shops. And majored in English at university. Am not drug-addled or cooler-than-thou. Mostly because I don't spend enough hours downloading music to care. I do own sweatpants and have worn them out of the house to buy milk on occasion. Sue me.

The flack's been more vocal, lately, though I'm not sure how I inspired it. I wear pantsuits to work every day and get my hair cut at a salon.

Regardless...

Two of my favourite marrieds, A&S, live in a downtown loft. In their elevator the other day, they ran into a young man wearing this Threadless tee. S snickered and remarked to A that, "oh, I didn't know K's boyfriend lived in the building." Har, har.

Of course, what makes the comment actually funny is that I OWN said shirt, along with several items of skull & crossbone and other pirate-y paraphernelia. Not sure that makes me a hipster. Just makes me someone who likes clever language and men in eyepatches. Right?

The Boy also mocks me for being a pretentious hipster, though I think he overestimates my suave, urban cool. So I wore a scarf on a few dates: it was cold outside. He's pretty anti-hipster, though. Anti-hippy, too. He's a little more rock n' roll, which I like. I'd consider myself more rock n' roll, too, if others weren't so quick to pass me into the hipster category.

I like irony. I do. I read a lot of literature and enjoy the use of thought-provoking language. I like good music and art but I don't feel the need to like those things just to be cool. And yes...ok...I WOULD go to this workout class, but only because I'd be laughing so hard my abs would be rock-hard by the end.

So there.

The Cat Did it.

hee hee hee.

This dude in Florida turned on his pet after he was arrested for 10 counts of possession of child pornography on his home computer.

"According to a sheriff's report Friday, [Keith] Griffin told investigators that his cat jumped on the computer keyboard while he was downloading music. He said he had left the room and found "strange things" on his computer when he returned." - Associated Press

Wow. That's a new one. I've had my cat accidentally type in "agarzzzzdfdfqwet" on my computer. And I think she's probably sent a few wrong emails while I was in the loo. But 1,000 pieces of child pornography? Erm...yeah, she may be bad...but she's not evil.

See the great thing about pets is that, even if you're a dirtbag, they still love you. Even if you're some pervert who throws your pet under a bus the second the popo arrive, they'll still think you're the cat's pyjamas.

Poor kitty. I hope he finds a nice home where the owners won't blame him for pedophilia. Ok, Ok...so maybe the man's innocent. If that's the case, though, I hope this kitty gets the help he needs and stays at least 100m away from all kittens, petstores and kindergartens.

But hey, now I have a nifty excuse for all that kinky stuff that ever ends up on my hard drive. Not that there would be, mind you. But if there were, it's completely the cat's fault. Little sex addict.

And erm, if any naked pictures of me ever end up somewhere on the 'net, that was totally the cat's fault. It just so happens that I was dancing around naked and left the lens cap off my camera and "click!" the cat jumped on the table and took my photo. And then uploaded it. And posted it. She so did.

Also, I think my cat filed my income tax improperly and was caught doing 120 on the highway and got that $200 ticket. Improbable as it may seem, I saw her working the stick shift the other day when she thought I wasn't looking. No, really.

Bad kitty.

My Bookshelf: Shits and Giggles

The old adage that you "can't judge a book by its cover" is patently false. As much of a bibliophile as I am, sometimes a tome grabs you with its humourous, intriguing or downright odd cover, and you can't help but purchase it. Sometimes, the cover alone is worth the price. Often you are rightly let down upon turning the first page. On the rare, special occasion: you discover treasure. This is a story about the second kind.

I bought this book at a second-hand store a few years ago whilst enjoying a summer stroll with Ms. Tack. We stopped in at the tiny shop in her old university neighbourhood to see if we could find anything good.

I saw this at the front of the store, atop a pile of old, torn books on clearance. It had a Post-It price of $1.50 and was missing the back cover. I fell in love with it immediately. The cover had me in a fit of giggles and the insides didn't disappoint, with photos of Scotland Yard's finest straightlacedly employing slick ninja stylings on one-another. The fact that I have a soft spot for antique books didn't hurt, either.

Though I knew that the book was old, it was missing the inside page that held any publishing information. Thanks to the internet, however, I've learned it's origins are even earlier than I first thought (1913!) and discovered a lovely web post about it.

The book currently has a pride of place--cover facing, of course--on one of my display shelves. If you ever want to come over and smile at it, let me know. It was worth every cent of the $1.50 I paid for it.

JU-JITSU SELF DEFENCE"
By W. Bruce Sutherland, Thomas Nelson & Sons Ltd, no date but researched to 1913

***UPDATE****

So I wrote to the Arty Bees Books in NZ to comment on the rare find I'd come across and thank them for finally getting me the information I was looking for on the hilarious little time capsule that is "Ju-Jitsu". Excerpt from their response below:

"Thank you for your kind comments - many of the books that come across the desk are just too wonderful to pass up without sharing, and I'm glad there may have been some helpful information on our site as well as silliness.You might also like to know that a copy in reasonable condition should generally fetch about US$40 - $80... :-)"

Wow. So now I have a collector's item, too! I feel like one of those people on Antiques Roadshow, only without the snooty evaluator.

K

Monday word nerd-out: Awful Library Books

The current record-holder for longest job Ms. Fitz has ever held was a 3-year (yes, sad, I know, but I'm still under 30!) tenure as a page in a county library from the end of high school to my second year of university. Several high school and university friends actually worked there with me, and a few stayed for years after graduation. Years. Seriously. These were not librarians, mind you: for those of you too uncultured to know, librarian is actually a serious profession that requires a Master's degree, at minimum, so no, 17-year-olds who work in libraries are NOT librarians!

Anywho...

Working at a library was actually a very interesting job, and not just because I'm a bookish dweeb. You come across the most obscure, odd or downright hilarious publications, many of which make you wonder why you yourself don't just go out and get published, since apparently they're handing them out (or, at least, they were in the late 70s/early 80s.)

Bettsy came across this fantastic blog today, and I had to share. It's like Awkward Family Photos, but with books. I've got my very own weird and awful book stories to post, but I'll save those for another day. Enjoy.

Awful Library Books

My heart, she melts.

Thanks to my anonymous "Monkey of the Week" commentator for this video. *swoon*

Click here if you can stand it. 

The motherflippin' Rhymenocerous

Clever Monkey spent the weekend in bed with the flu.

With a magnitude of about '9.5' on the suck-meter, there really is little worse than spending the most beautiful weekend of the year thus far (high 20s both days, light rain, sunshine) alternately sweating and shivering in a small pile of bedclothes between trips to the toilet. Slept for nearly 48 hours straight and managed to choke down several crackers, a bit of milk-free tea and some juice--but mostly so I had something in my stomach to puke up five minutes later. Ugh.

Apologies if the cleverness is lacking. I probably expelled it into my toilet.

***

To keep my delirious brain somewhat entertained and keep my mind off of all the fun my friends were having at open-air concerts and along beaches, I played a lot of DVDs. One of these was a belated birthday gift: season one of "Flight of the Conchords."

Now, being fairly pretentious and having lots of hipster friends, it may surprise you that I haven't gotten into the adventures of two Kiwi lads sooner. Late to the game though I may be, I have to say that I'm thrilled I finally caught on. Because these guys rock.

Not only is FotC funny in that silly, irreverent way I find so terribly endearing, but their homages to various musical stylings and witty lyrics are bang on. They've got some great turns of phrase.

I think my favourite season one episode is the one where Bret decides he's only going to answer to his rap persona: the Rhymenocerous. In keeping with the large African mammal theme, Jemaine backs him as the Hiphoppapotamus.

Sample Lyric: " I'm the motherflippin' hiphopopotamus, my lyrics are bottomless...

...

...

..."

hee.

See the video for the boys in their glory.

"Did Steve tell you that, perchance? Gah, Steve!"