With no mandatory readings, study guides or a piano tied to my butt, this weekend is showing all the signs of housecoat and slippers day. Heck, I’m not even going to bother with a facial shave; I’m just going to let it all go—except for the teeth—I have standards you know. I’ve drank all my root beer and completely forgot to buy more breakfast serial, so all that was appropriate for the morning feast was mango juice and toast. But so far the day is going good. And, it appears that today’s post is going to be creative writing day where I’m just going to leave the composition program up for the whole day and add to it when I feel like it. Warning, according to the self-proclaimed normal people around me, who call themselves my friends, I have a sick mind. For example, why waste your time typing for the whole day when you could be out raping and pillaging entire villages and drinking real beer until you lose complete consciousness and wake up the next morning asking yourself why you are in the Vancouver pre trial lock-up with a cop reading you your rights?
What did I do first thing this morning? This is what blogging is all about. Heck, this is what our society has reduced itself to, those who have the need to tell anyone their every waking experiences, and those who need to see someone else’s waking experiences. So maybe I’m one of those people who feels the need to tell the world, “this morning I tried to sleep in but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried.” It’s true, I tried, but I couldn’t do it because I hit the pillow around 10:00pm last night so I had plenty of sleep. Now you more about what I did last night, and first thing this morning. Are you still interested in reading more…?
After I ate my toast and drank all of my mango juice, I did some surfing on the web. Here’s another favourite pastime that far exceeds blogging, the mega hours of web surfing we all do. Forget drinking, and raping and pillaging entire villages, when you can watch someone else do it on-line, and for free. I spent about twenty minutes joyfully clicking around the browser when I went to check out CBC news, to get my daily dose of current events, when I came upon a link that opened a web page featuring the CBC program called, “Being Erica.” To my delight I discovered that I can watch all thirteen episodes on-line.
But just before I watched the first episode, at the bottom of the viewing window was a line of text that read, “only available in Canada.” Now that’s cool. Not so cool for those who live elsewhere, but cool in the sense that the first time I’ve seen this “net blocking” was on an American web sites. So it is poetic justice that net censorship goes both ways.
So I spent 43 minutes watching the first episode of “Being Erica” for the second time, but without any commercials—can we say “Bonus!” There are not too many television shows that have scenes in them that will make me laugh out loud (lol) and keep me laughing for the rest of day as this one did, (or does). The character Erica is given a chance to go back in time to her high school dance and change some of her past “not so great” events. So she is living as a teenager in 1992, and she is getting ready for the dance and she pulls out this huge monster leg shaver and starts shaving her legs. She then notices that she needs to shave her pubic area, and as she runs the shaver closer to her thighs the machine starts to snag some hair and causes her to cringe with pain. At that moment her sister’s boy friend just happens to walk by the bedroom door, opened of course, and sees something completely different. When Erica is at the school dance, the rumour mill had spread and her boy friend hears that she was seen naked, with a vibrator, screaming with ecstasy. The whole scene just made me burst out with laughter.
Moving right along, it is now noon and the sun is shinning through the clouds. It is amazing what a little sun can do to the day. All of a sudden people are everywhere walking up and down the street. It is still cold out though. I think if there should be a symbol or icon of what Spring 2009 is, this should be it: rain, cold and flowers. In the last couple of days I noticed frost on the wind shield of my vehicle and the need to wear the extra sweater in the mornings. Compared to our normal springs, this one is cold and damp—I remember the 2006 spring—it was already summer in April. Heck, even the noisy Robbins are chirping less this year than compared to last.
The biggest beef I have this year is the size of my heating bill. With a long winter comes the big bill. I know, you all are experiencing the same issues, but I spent a lot on home improvements before last winter to combat the heating blues and my bills over all were more than last year. We went through a electricity price increase and I have a sneaking suspicion that my metre may have been read wrong on top of that. Because I live in a trailer park, we don’t get to directly see what our actual consumption is in kilowatt hours, so knowing what my consumption is would have helped immensity with seeing how good my renovations were this year. Perhaps I should loby the next government in passing a law that states any utility company, or landlord, must give the costumer/tenant a detailed consumption with their bill. It would stop any possible accusations of syphoning through “extra billing,” if you want I mean.
Just an FYI (for your information) I said adiós to the facial hair and did the manual shave this afternoon with the razor of death. The torture of shaving like this is excruciating when you over exert the device and push too hard to get that deep penetrating cut. Shaving is iatrogenic to social beauty because you are damned if you do, and your damned if you don’t. I had let myself go to far for the electric shaver to do any good—I now pay the price for my abstinence.
Now it is almost the end of the day, with only minutes left in it. So, how to end it with this post?
Awh-yes, British Columbian drivers. What can I say. In less than twelve months the world will be watching us, and what they will see will turn heads when our guests start roaming the city and suburbs of Vancouver. We consider ourselves sentient beings who possess the knowledge and self sacrifice of consciousness and self awareness. The good automobile driver however is sacrosanct among the paucity of second rate motorists that somehow managed to obtain a drivers permit in this province. I would have thought that with the diverse collection of people that there are in the Lower Mainland we would have a larger eclectic group of courteous drivers that would rise above the daemons. It is pure evil how some people have developed and honed their skills with infamy of BC driving etiquette. Cutting others off, rolling stops and speeding are considered normal in these parts, as we all wonder why our social vehicle insurance is so expensive? The cry for people to obey the rules has not worked; so a new cry is needed—more policing. If anything, it is our streets that need more police, and they need to be watching our roads, not the back allies and industrial parks. Those who wreak havoc on our roads need to be punished. Safety should be brought back instead of chaos. A good driver should be not an anomaly of the asphalt strip, but the norm of where the rubber meets the road.