Yin and Yang

I saw a great movie (see below) and so it must follow that a pretty awful one must come next. The kids and I just watched The Golden Compass. Oy! First the good. It was a beautiful film, by which I mean that it had pretty settings, costumes and people, though the overall lighting and colour could have been better in a lot of scenes. In addition, it was well-acted, and I very much appreciated the lack of gore. That said, this is quite possibly the Worst Book to Film Translation Ever. I don't even know where to start. The whole thing felt choppy and rushed (probably because it was!) and so much was changed -- even the rival bear king's name! -- that it was ludicrous. Maybe it would have helped not to have read the book at all. Or maybe it would have made it more confusing. Not even the lovely Daniel Craig (what little there was of him) could redeem this story, which is sad, because it's a pretty compelling story in its book form. But during the film I just kept rolling my eyes and hoping it would end. When finally, mercifully, it did, it wasn't even in the right place. WTF?

Gah!

Search Me

Most frequently googled subjects that bring people here:

~ "My sister's panties" and variations on that theme (from when I was sewing those Hello Kitty V-Strings)

~ "Bidibodi Bidubu lyrics" Let it die already!

~ various MuNKi pictures, which I find odd, because I don't hotlink them (post the pics on my site by putting their addy in the IMG SRC tag) since that is stealing bandwidth, and a big no-no. I just make a clickable link that redirects to their page, and maybe sends you down a fun bunny trail at another site. So why does Google direct them to my blog?

And now there's a new one:

"Howie Mandel and Naked Pics"

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

Typical

I get up with great intentions of writing before the kids awaken, but the scale shows me that I really should do some exercise first (and possibly never eat again) so I go down to the basement and jump rope to "21 Things", stagger upstairs to the bathroom, fall back down the stairs and then do feet-ups on the kicking bag.

After dragging myself to the top of the steps again and switching laundry from washer to dryer, I sit my great intentions (and somewhat leaden legs) down at the laptop. Inexplicably, I feel compelled to check my mail. MuNKi is on, which reminds me that I was supposed to look for energy gel thinggies online. I surf, chat MuNKi about it a bit, and finally find a decent bargain.

The children awaken and (shock) expect food. We do the food thing and I finish reading "Pure Dead Trouble" aloud to them. (Well, duh, aloud. I guess I didn't need that qualifier. It's not like I'm telepathic or something and can broadcast my thoughts into their heads, though that would be really convenient at times. Though also possibly disastrous.)

The phone rings, and a child answers it before I can tell them not to.

The children launch on chores and schoolwork. I do more laundry, sweep and mop the floor to the strains of Genticorum and find stuff to put away. Quite possibly the entire basement could use a cleaning. I fight the urge.

The phone rings again. Again a child answers. (Note to self: must implement non-answering protocol.) MuNKi is reminding me that the kids and I were going to clean out the car today. I spot my art quilt lying over the back of the rocking chair and decide to hang it up before it gets trashed.

More stuff begs to be put away and the phone rings again. No, please NOOOOooooo! For some reason, more laundry wants doing as well. I check my history book bids on eBay and accept my niece's Facebook invite. I troll and play a bit on Facebook. Bloody Facebook. I really mean to open up that document and keep writing, but my notebook is in the other room while Facebook is conveniently in my lap.

I get my notebook and finally sit to write, but first I need to blog about it all. . .

Is it any wonder?

PS: IN DESPERATE NEED OF NAME SUGGESTIONS FOR SLIMY YET DEBONAIR POLITICIAN!

Picture Book Thursday

So yesterday I was at the library and I thought I'd snag some picture books for Prawn. How can I accurately describe the mood in which that put me? I'll try by saying that I would LOVE to find books that are real STORIES that I want to read to my five-year-old for the purpose of enjoyment, as opposed to thinly veiled MESSAGES. But I'm afraid that the Otts Children's Publishing Theme Song would be "We're Bringin' Didact Back." :-P

I can't tell you how unlikely it is that if you pull a random book out of the hundreds on our library's shelves it will be an actual story book. I'm fed up with "Little Johnny is Sad," and "Merwin Recycles a Can." I've had it with "Hattie's Grandma Got Diagnosed With Cancer and then Got Run Over by a Bus," and "Jory Ate a Day-Old Chicken Sandwich and Died." Enough, please of "Charles Was Petrified of Going to School, but it Turned Out not to Kill Him After All," and "The Dentist is My Friend in Spite of all the Horrifying Instruments of Torture He Keeps On Hand" and "Harry Finds a Dead Frog," and "My Fish Died, but He Makes Great Fertilizer."

Granted, there is a time and a place for some of these, but more often than not, parents are looking for something to read that will delight their little ones and feed their imaginations -- something that makes their kids giggle or "oooh" and "aah," and then run off to build castles and dance with fairies and paint pictures and pretend they can fly. And also preferably something they can read more than once without barfing. This is getting increasingly harder to do.

So I was delighted yesterday to find "I'm the Biggest Thing in the Ocean." It's a simple book with a great punchline and a couple of cute little gags for the visually observant. It made all my kids laugh, and BG and me, too. I found a few others that look Less Than Awful as well. I'll keep you posted.

Have a Bi-Polar Day!

I decided to scrap some pics today, and what better way to entertain myself whilst so doing than to listen to an audiobook? I tried Googling free audio downloads first (strike 1) then remembered that our library has downloadable audiobooks. Huzzah!! EXCITEMENT ABOUNDS!

Then I tried to find where they were kept. Not in the regular online catalog. Bummer. (strike 2) So I tried cutting off all but the main part of my library link url to get to some sort of homepage and voila! A direct link to digital downloads! YAY!!!

So I downloaded the free software necessary for listening to the digibooks, and then went into the catalogue and found all KINDS of free stuff to check out. I mean EVERYTHING is there!! (well, a lot anyway)

Then I tried to check out some books, and they let me put them on hold, but even the ones that weren't already checked out said I had to wait for an email telling me when they became available. (still waiting) Bummer. (foul ball)

So I tried the video stuff, thinking I'd listen to a movie instead, because why not? And those let me check out right away without listening. YAY!!

But then I tried to download them, and I got some sort of error message. Bummer. (another foul)

I then downloaded the Windows Media upgrade and updated my security as directed. This produced a different error message. (kind of yay -- it must be progress, right? but still another foul)

I rebooted my computer in case that would help. Now whenever I try, I get an error message saying that there are issues with Digital Rights Management. Oh, and I've used up all my chances to download those movies. Strike three, I'm out.

The Laste Parte

She seriously considered just driving right past the hardware store and going to a different one, but she pulled into one of the few remaining free parking spots and got out, The Boy safely in tow. There were a couple of men sitting outside at the corner nearest her. The one with the crossed eyes and the severe underbite (who resembled a slightly brain damaged bulldog) looked up at her approach. She thought he might have 3 of his bottom teeth.

"Is the store open?" she asked, expecting the answer "no," or perhaps simply barking.

"Yep. Go on in," said The Bulldog.

"What's up with the crowd outside?" she asked.

"Oh, they're probably just waiting for Scott."

She wondered whether she was supposed to know who Scott was. Probably not the toilet paper, but who knew what might be going on in there?

Feeling more than a little self conscious, she bypassed the milling crowd and entered the store. Inside, it looked as if a bomb drill were in progress. The place was empty except for several employees and rather a lot of strategically placed bombs disguised as food platters. She asked again if it was OK to come in and was assured that it was.

Other than the strange smell (food is not a standard hardware store smell) and the massage tables, things looked pretty normal inside. She quickly located the 50' snake, purchased it and left before any well-oiled men in Speedos, or Borghild, the humongous Swedish masseuse, could make an appearance.

She reached home without hearing too much of the scraping brake noise (the volume on the van's CD went all the way to 11) and The Man, now equipped with a much longer snake (!!) was finally able to reach the clot. He wielded his new tool efficiently, using it to bore into part of the congealed and well-packed mass of repugnance and drag it out; and a program of repeated boring, pulling out, and beating off (the mung) finally released the last of the demons (and 2 anacondas) and rendered the pipe drain-worthy.

Huzzah!

The next day, The Man changed the brake pads on the auto. . .

Evene More of the Storye

**A lost fragment of the manuscript tells us that The Man had actually gone to the hardware store between the acid and Cleanout Drain incidents, and bought a Plumber's Snake, which he used to no avail from above. We return to Hell (ie the basement)**

"I honestly would rather have been vomited on," The Man remarked, standing as he was atop the 3 step ladder, and now drenched in sulphurous-smelling liquid and slimy, clinging spatters of noodle and other assorted mung.

The Woman was secretly very glad that she had been safely just out of range.

With no further barrier to putting the snake in the pipe (as it were) The Man attempted to do just that. Sadly, the 8' snake was too short. Not wanting to shower and change only to have to return to the job of mucking out Hell's Toilet, The Man sent The Woman to the hardware store.

"It's Ladies' Night," he remarked, as if that were somehow relevant. The Woman wondered whether it was. She wondered, too, what the hell Ladies' Night at a hardware store even was. Would there be a discount for her? Free WD-40? Chippendale dancers? Resigning herself to any number of possible fates, she tried not to think about it, instead collecting The Boy for moral support ("now with added Y chromosome!") and setting off for realms unknown.

CD player blaring (primarily to mask the harsh sounds of metal on metal whenever she braked) The Woman approached the hardware store with no little trepidation. The Man had given her the information necessary for a Surgical Strike, but the flashing lights of a police car in the parking lot, in combination with the large group of people clustered outside, did nothing to boost her confidence.

Parte the Nexte

And so it was determined that on the Third Try, The Man would descend into Hell (ie the basement) and open the Cleanout Drain. This is not something to be attempted lightly.



The Woman positioned a Large Rubbermaid Bin beneath the drain and The Man climbed all the way up, up, up to the top of a 3 step ladder and stood on tiptoe to unscrew the drain plug. Once loosened, the plug emitted a very small and VERY smelly stream of watery substance. After observing this for some minutes and seeing how little progress was being made, The Woman asked why The Man did not just open the plug all the way. He replied that he didn't want everything gushing out all over him and that he preferred to just let it out a little bit at a time. He loosened it a bit further, and a slightly larger trickle issued forth.



The Man had always had infinitely more patience (for some things) than The Woman, but even he had his breaking point. Finally, he stretched up to loosen the plug a just a tiny bit further, but the plug had other ideas. The instant The Man touched the plug, it rocketed off of the pipe and into his hand. In a spectacular display of flying stench, a horde of demons erupted from the pipe, sending putrid water, acid, and noodle bits gouting out onto the wall, the floor, and mostly The Man.

Parte the Seconde

or Thirde, if you count that other update below.

Her husband came home to dress up for his interview. Needless to say, it was not the best of times for unstopping drains. (It may, in fact, have been the worst of times.) She decided to pretend that the whole thing had never happened and to get on with her day. (apart from all that kitcheny-type stuff)

When he returned home, her husband dressed back down and proceeded to recreate the earlier scene with the plunger almost exactly -- right down to the inappropriately giggling child (which irritated him to no end.) He then departed for the hardware store and returned with something lethal that could only be contained by a Jell-O based plasma force-field generated by 3 rodents spinning frantically in wheels. (bonus!)

The cats made short work of the rodents, releasing the caustic liquid, which was then poured down the drain immediately before the Reading of the Fine Print. After the Reading of the Fine Print came the segue into Swearing and Cursing and Much use of Plumbing Words, because of course, the Fine Print stated that one should never, ever, under any circumstances, pour said acid into a garbage disposal.

A quick flushing of the drain with water turned out to not be a flushing at all, since, of course, the drain was still blocked. The Woman was directed to hold down the drain plug once more, while The Man plunged the other side (no, it's not that kind of story) rather vigorously. Met with continued failure, The Man had The Woman pull the plug, releasing a cloud of brown liquid into her side of the sink.

Seeing her hand immersed in the liquid, The Man commented that the Brown Stuff was, in fact, acid. But too late. All the flesh had peeled from her hand and sloughed into a quivering puddle of goo on the floor.

Actually, she was fine.

But there was more to come. . .

The Bowels of Hades

Where to even begin?

Water had begun pooling in the sink, and assorted bits of mung were floating out of the drain and swirling around in the increasingly murky puddle. She switched on the garbage disposal and a fountain of even darker "water" geysered out of the other drain.

She fetched the plunger, holding it somewhat at arm's length while carrying it to the kitchen. She had never really been one with the tool. Grimacing and trying (she realised later) not to breathe, she stopped up the other drain and seated the plunger. Holding down the plug with one hand, she wielded the plunger as best she could with the other - not well enough, it turned out, to unstop the drain, but more than amply to send more of the disgusting sewage-y soup out of the sink in a spray of putridity. (yes, I'm allowed to make up words for this)

Ironically (or perhaps simply in an ominous foreshadowing of things to come) it was only the previous day that her husband had shown the children how to perform this exact operation. She attempted it again with the help of her oldest child. More than once the drain gurgled rather encouragingly and she held her breath (twice as hard) in anticipation. But fate, it seems, is not only a cruel master but a connossieur of good jokes, and the only real result was highly inappropriate giggling from her child, and quite a lot more mess.




To be continued. . .

I've Been Hijacked!

This is what I get for not checking my email all weekend. Some asshat in London hijacked my eBay account, the bitch. Well, I think it's a woman. One of the email replies I got from a seller on eBay refers to her as Vickie. I have her IP addy, which is how I found out she's in London. Quite possibly on Lambeth Palace Rd. There are some pretty cool webtools out there. I have to say that I felt a bit like Winters for a moment there.

Speaking of Winters, how much would you charge, Dude, to go 'round to her place and leave a flaming bag of dog poop on the step? ;-)

On the plus side, no one expects money from me, or any sort of products. EBay caught the problem before I did. I think one of the sellers reported her. Apparently the person was emailing sellers about projection TVs, which kinda creeped me out, since I've been talking a little about ours lately. Needless to say, I've updated all the passwords I can think of (email, eBay, Paypal.)

On an interesting note, I get Blog hits from Lambeth, Greater London sometimes. What do you think?

Summer

If you're looking for me, I'll be at the beach.

A binder clip, a binder clip, my kingdom for a binder clip. . .