April 9, 2015

Okay, Foria fucking WORKS. So why isn’t every woman on the planet talking about it yet?

Last year I heard about this cannabis-infused female sexual enhancement oil, called Foria, that one woman claimed had given her a 15 minute orgasm and thought that it sounded too good to be true. Surely if there was something that gave women a 15 minute orgasm, women everywhere would be clamouring for it. Hell, if it even caused ANY orgasm, women would be clamouring for it, right? Anyway, it wasn’t available here so I kinda just put it out of my mind. That is, until I started planning my trip to San Francisco which was preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty much a weed vacation. The ONLY thing I bought there was weed, concentrated weed or things to smoke weed out of/with. Foria was available at one of the dispensaries we were utilizing and I think it was $40 US for a 10 or 15ml spray bottle.

I actually smuggled the Foria home with me because I never felt like trying it when we were in SF and I was pretty sure I could get away with it.

When we got home, I put the Foria in the bedside table drawer where all my toys live, and pretty much forgot about it until Monday night.

First, a little background about me:

– I have been on anti-depressants for the past year that annihilated my sex drive completely that we’ve only begun to wean me off of (by 1/3 so far).
– I have only had one orgasm in my entire life from penis-in-vagina sex and to this day we still don’t know why or how it happened.
– Oral does nothing for me. I mean, it doesn’t feel bad or anything but I’d take a back massage over that any day of the week.
– I can only have clitoral orgasms that I cause myself and when not on shitty anti-depressants, I am multi-orgasmic.
– I am a medical marijuana patient with a ridiculous tolerance to the herb.

I forget whose idea it was, but one of us suggested that since we had nothing better to do, we might as well try the stuff.

In the bedroom, I sprayed my pussy with 8 squirts of Foria coating everything on the outside and a bit of the inside. It seemed like a lot, like my vagine was slick as hell, but it wasn’t lubey, it was silky, then I laid on my side and vaped some cannabis using my Pax, while Blake’s fingers massaged the oil into my skin. After half an hour, the oil was about 3/4 of the way absorbed into my skin and that’s when we started fucking. Nothing fancy, THIS WAS SCIENCE, so just missionary position.

Upon insertion of Blake’s penis into my vagina, I was immediately pre-orgasmic with every movement. From my vagina hole. Not even g-spot stuff, it was like the nerves around my vaginal opening, and about an inch inside, woke up for the first time in my life. Where there used to just be the same feeling as sticking my finger in my ear, there was suddenly a symphony of pleasure, it was crazy. I felt colours and I wasn’t even stoned. Is this what sex is SUPPOSED to feel like? It was actually sort of weird because, while I always participate in sex, it’s never had anything to do with me so movement has always been in response to what Blake wanted to do but with Foria, I kinda lost myself in the moment and turned into a literal greedy fuck where each movement was optimized for MY pleasure. Afterward, Blake even remarked that he could tell something was going on because I, from the bottom, basically controlled everything we did without even realizing it. In fact, I’m a little embarrassed even writing this, but Foria has basically turned me into a cock hungry monster because it’s all I’ve thought about this week but I only have this itty bitty bottle and can’t get more so it’s a special occasion kinda thing until laws change. I have never craved – nor even particularly wanted – dick in my life. I have always, in the back of my mind, wondered if I wasn’t asexual because I was so disinterested in sex. But now every time I look at Blake, all I can think is, “your dick could be in me right now”.

But that was pre-Foria sex. I didn’t think it would do a damn thing and now I’m trying to think of elaborate strategies to make what I have last longer or get more of it.

Now I know that my body is CAPABLE of producing these feelings (and honestly, that’s kind of a relief after feeling defective most of your life) and I know what they feel like, I’m hopeful that eventually body recall could kick in and the Foria would be unnecessary. Like waking a sleeping dragon. But testing that theory would require lots more experimentation.

Having said alllllllllllllllllll of this, I did not have an orgasm (but it felt so good compared to what I’m used to, I ain’t even mad). The Foria did not seem to stimulate my clitoris in any way but that could be due to meds and the fact that my jackpack needs serious replenishing. (Recommend good porn!) My very first thought when we were finished was that if they could get more THC in this stuff, it would DEFINITELY give me an orgasm. From my vagina. No doubt in my mind. I think the only reason it didn’t is because my tolerance is too high. I also no longer call bullshit on the 15 minute orgasm due to this stuff  because I was in the first stage of orgasm the entire time we were fucking so I totally believe that a woman could have a sustained orgasmic experience from using this. Again, no doubt in my mind. That’s why I cannot believe that this stuff is only available in TWO US STATES by prescription. This is all-natural Lady Viagra! Like I said in the beginning, women should be clamouring for this shit the way men went nuts over actual Viagra and change some super stupid laws in the process. I don’t understand why this isn’t happening already! GIRL POWAH! No? :o/

I’m definitely not saying it’s the magical cure-all for every woman (just as I don’t think weed is the magical cure-all for every affliction), there’s not enough evidence to suggest that, but it is absolutely worth trying if you get the opportunity And if you have tried it, I wanna hear about it!

Posted at 6:49 pm in: 4/20 , Blake , Cannabis , Health , Politics , San Francisco , Sex , Spring , USA , winter
December 5, 2014

Murderous Meat

July 28th, 2044


It didn’t all start at once and by the time I was aware of it and my mom let me watch 24-hour news instead of my usual lessons, the world was already in crisis. This is what happened.

A few years ago, there was this 60-something year old lady in Texas named Esther Hughes who started waking up with really bad headaches. She took lots of medication and saw many doctors and they performed many tests but they couldn’t find anything wrong with her. They gave her prescriptions for strong opioids she had to inject herself, which didn’t help, and frustrated and in pain, she closed all her curtains and shut the world out.

Eventually, the holidays rolled around and Esther’s kids became concerned for their mother when she told them she not only wouldn’t be hosting the traditional five day feast but that she wouldn’t be seeing them over the holidays at all. She said the pain was too unbearable.

Troubled by the turn of events and the tone in their mother’s voice, Esther’s children, thinking they were doing a very good thing, decided to bring their families and the holiday feast to Esther.

Fortunately for Esther, it was her youngest daughter who arrived first. She told reporters later that it was the blacked out windows on her childhood home that told her something was really wrong. She lightly knocked on the front door and called to her mother, but there was no answer. She said she knocked for another few minutes with no answer before she went to the spot the spare key to the back door had been hidden her whole life. It was there and she made her way around the back of the house and unlocked the door to the sun room. She said the whole house was dark, but having grown up in it, she knew it like the back of her hand so she quickly searched the first floor for her mother with no results. She went upstairs, straight to her mother’s room, where she saw a lump in the bed. She called for her mother and turned on the light and according to their first interview with Oprah 2.0, Esther pulled the blankets over her head and screamed for her daughter to turn the light off, which her daughter, who was scared, immediately did.

In the dark, Esther’s daughter felt around for the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Holding her mother’s hand, she asked, “what’s wrong mama?” and Esther began to weep. Esther then held her daughter’s hand and brought it up to her face, allowing her daughter to first feel her mother’s lips, then her mother’s nose, then her soggy eyes which Esther fluttered so her daughter could feel her eyelashes and then she raised her daughter’s fingers to the middle of her forehead where…her daughter pulled her hand back and gasped. She said she felt the spot again with both hands this time and she was certain about what she was feeling in the dark: right in the middle of Esther’s forehead, where nothing should have been, there was a closed eye. And it had been crying too.

After recounting to her daughter how the process had happened and that bright light can often trigger headaches, Esther allowed her daughter to bring her downstairs, into the living room, where Esther said it was okay to turn on certain lamps, which she had dimmed by putting scarves over their shades.

Eventually the rest of Esther’s family arrived at Esther’s house and they all heard her tale, while not quite knowing what to do next. Esther didn’t want to see any more doctors or anyone for that matter, or rather she didn’t want anyone to see her.

Finally her family persuaded Esther to let a priest come to the house, who told her that this third eye was a gift from God and that there had long been stories and theories in many religions of a third eye giving the person the gift of prophecy. He told her that she should let as many people see her as possible, that she could help people in need make tough decisions, that this was her gift to share.

Pretty soon Esther became a worldwide media sensation, appearing on all the talk shows and news shows with her daughter, wearing sunglasses over her original eyes and a headscarf over her third eye to prevent headaches. People were calling on her to bless them and to try to heal their wounds or to tell them their futures.

At the same time people began pilgrimages to Esther’s home from all over the world, other people with new mutations that all happened in a short amount of time were starting to crop up in the media, which started a frenzy on the 24-hour news channels – so I’m told – about why this was happening. Some experts claimed it was because of pollution. Some claimed it was because of a surplus of vitamins. Some claimed it was because this government or that was testing or using weapons of mass destruction. Some claimed it was a virus or a bacteria. Some went so far as to say that these mutations were the next step in human evolution. No one was co-operating with anyone else and in the end, they would all be wrong as a result.

But as the media goes, after the initial hysteria died down and governments reassured their people that they were doing everything possible to determine the cause of this new “disease”, you didn’t hear about mutations as often. Soon people stopped worrying and went on with their lives, for the most part, with the most paranoid among them wearing medical masks in elevators and cities setting up sanitizing stations in malls, subways and large office parks.

And then Cookie Kaye happened. Cookie Kaye, of New Zealand, was the host of her own popular live internet cooking show, “What’s Cookin’ Cookie?” where she would prepare dishes from her global fans’ childhoods; such staples as macaroni and cheese with prosciutto on top, butter chicken, jerk pork or meatloaf with gravy.

One particular day, Cookie, dressed in a white, sleeveless blouse with yellow flowers, began by explaining that it was her 100th show and in that honour, she thought she’d surprise her fans with a dish from her own childhood: pan-fried lamb chops with rosemary and garlic. Cookie chatted about growing up in New Zealand and how lamb was a very common meat there, as she combined minced garlic with fresh, chopped rosemary and a little crushed red pepper to give it a bit of pizzaz! Since the next step in the recipe was to rub the mixture onto the chops and refrigerate for 4 hours, she pulled out two already prepared and chilled chops from the fridge and started heating olive oil in a large skillet. As the oil reached the proper temperature, Cookie discussed with her virtual audience the many other ways one can enjoy lamb and how you can obtain lamb in places where it may not be readily available. Once the oil was properly heated, Cookie explained that all you had to do next was to fry each lamb chop for 3 minutes on each side to attain medium-rareness and as she said this, she picked up a piece of the maroon, herbed meat in each hand and laid them into the skillet.

Immediately the lamb chops began to sizzle in the oil and before poor Cookie could say anything else, they were both flailing violently in the pan, writhing as if in pain like slugs that have had salt poured on them, splashing hot meat juices and oil across Cookie’s hands and bare arms. She gasped as she drew back and in the next breath she was pointing at the pan and yelling at her camera man, angrily asking if this was a sick joke. At that same moment, one of the chops launched itself out of the pan and over her right shoulder. In the clip I saw, Cookie screams as the second piece of lamb propelled itself similarly to its mate, only this time it flew straight at Cookie, hitting her in the face before Cookie throws it to the floor. Cookie screams “can you fucking help me here please, Steve?!” and now the camera man, still carrying the camera, rushes around the corner of the cooking island and drops the camera as he goes to aid Cookie who is shrieking and crying that she has hot oil and blood and pepper in her eyes. In front of the camera, now on the floor, is the second lamb chop, still sizzling and twitching in a most disturbing fashion as steam rises from it and in the background, you can clearly see Cookie’s high-heeled shoes and those of the camera man’s and then you hear the running and splashing of water as Cookie flushes her eyes at the sink. The camera man is heard talking on the phone with emergency services and the next thing you see in the clip is Cookie’s shoes turn around to face the still slightly squirming meat, which she then violently and without ceremony stomps into a million pieces, kicking the camera in the process, ending the clip.

As soon as this clip went viral throughout the world, stories of other incidents of butchered lamb parts behaving strangely when heated started slowly coming out in the papers. Those I was allowed to read. Then beef and pork seemed affected in quickly soon after, until finally there was a grotesque incident involving a turducken, captured on video and uploaded to YouTube.

In that clip, you see a green oven and through the window in the door, there is a black roasting pan that jumps around every couple of seconds, sometimes hard enough to knock the pan’s lid askew. You can hear two or more people in the clip quietly freaking out completely and swearing and a caption appears on the video saying that they were attempting to cook a turducken for Thanksgiving and that this was happening approximately an hour and 15 minutes into cooking it. Then one of the people, a man, gets brave and you see him open the oven door with one hand and then with an oven-mittened hand he pulls out the rack that the roasting pan is on and then backs up and out of the way while the roasting pan bounces around some more, seemingly agitated by the movement caused by pulling out the rack. The people in the background all go “OOOOH!” as the same man quickly reaches for the lid of the roasting pan and pulls it off, jumping back once again. Steam rises and the person recording the video gets closer and higher to better see what was inside the pan. What should have looked like a normal turkey on the outside looked more like a squirming mass of white flesh and bone, pulsating and spasming while the duck and chicken inside it presumably did the same. A girl in the background screams, “FUCKING GROSS!!! SOMEONE KILL IT!!!” to which someone replies “HOW?!” and the next thing you know, the oven-mittened man shoves the turducken back in the oven, without the lid, and slams the door shut. “That’s how,” he says and from there the video is a time-lapse view of the turducken from the window in the oven and you can see it squirming violently until finally it simply from within the oven there is a loud thump and an explosion of flesh against the glass. The video slows back down to normal and the oven-mittened man carefully opens the oven and backs up so the videographer can get a better look at the carnage inside the oven: bits of white flesh and skin and bones covered every surface of the oven and inside the roasting pan, where the chicken’s back and parts of the duck were still “raw” but cooking, it was twitching and flexing and reacting as if in pain just as the lamb chop had when Cookie Kaye tried to fry it. Someone suggested putting the remnants of the turducken back in the oven to “kill” the rest of it and the video stops there and starts again with a view of the inside of the oven with the rack and roasting pan pulled out slightly. All of the meat looks cooked, most of it overcooked and some of it burnt. Then the camera turns to the face of the oven-mittened man who mugs for the camera and says, “And that’s how it’s done, boys!” The video ends.

After that video also went viral, the governments of the world finally started working together.  When the World Health Organization issued a statement telling people to cut down on their consumption of un-processed meat until more was known about what was going on,  all that did was cause pandemonium and most people stopped eating meat completely, sticking to vegetables and fruits and processed foods. Most stores stopped selling it because they couldn’t guarantee that each piece or package of their meat wouldn’t react violently when the customer attempted to cook it.

My grandma Lisa said she saw this all coming. She said that a long time ago, when they were just starting the programs to replace heirloom livestock with cloned livestock that didn’t get sick as often, grew faster, tasted better and as an added benefit, the meat made people look more youthful, there were campaigns by people like her who thought that this was the wrong way to go. That this would muck up the food chain. And they protested. There needed to be more testing. But the governments of the world saw a quick way to “end” world hunger between these cloned animals and fruits and vegetables that had been genetically modified to not only grow just about anywhere, but to be resistant to pesticides and herbicides, and didn’t listen.

Now the 24-hour news channels were reporting that it was this strange meat that was causing the mutations.  I felt relieved because I don’t eat meat and neither does anyone in my family. Soon scientists figured out that it was the genetically modified corn that the world feeds to its livestock in some capacity or another, which was causing changes to the cloned animals’ DNA and when people ate the animals, it changed their DNA as well, causing mutations, cancers and death. The crisis, of course, was that the only “heritage” animals left on the Earth were wild game and immediately breeding programs for elk, deer and moose were established.

By this point, my mom said it was okay to watch the 24-hour news channels as much as I wanted to instead of my usual lessons because this was an important world event that would have lasting repercussions well into my grandchildren’s generation, so watch I did. I watched in horror with tears streaming down my face as animals were lead into big pits in the ground with a layer of charcoal at the bottom, doused in something flammable and lit on fire. Alive. To die. Screaming and writhing in pain. Because cooking or burning the meat was the only way to kill it, they thought in the beginning, so that’s how governments started disposing of the world’s meat supply. This upset a great many people, particularly Hindus who objected to the mass slaughter of cows that for all intents and purposes could live out their lives in peace but most people were so angry at the meat itself for being bad because by now just about everyone on Earth had been negatively affected by the meat in some way, that they blamed the animals and wanted to see them suffer. The United Nations eventually concluded, at the persuasion of several kinder countries, that the animals should all be poisoned or euthanized and then their bodies disposed of by cremation and most countries followed suit, while the poorer nations opted to slitting throats before the burn. Even on our little farm in Michigan where we weren’t burning anything, you could smell the rest of the world’s char.

On one morning show I watched, there was a scientist, Dr. Ryan Brownstein, discussing these worms called planarians that had an almost infinite ability to regenerate themselves into whole organisms, making them “effectively immortal”. He said that you could cut a planarian into 279 pieces and each piece would grow into a new planarian. This was significant, he told the toothy, blonde host, because when scientists were perfecting the livestock to clone, planarian DNA was most definitely part of the final sequence, which was what had been giving meat the property of giving the consumer a more youthful appearance and sometimes a slightly longer lifespan. The planarian DNA in the meat allowed for humans to regenerate their lost cells faster, allowing for new, glowing skin for all meat eaters just about all the time. He said that the problem now, however, was that this planarian DNA had run amok and now you can cut a cow into an unknown amount of pieces and after a short period of dormancy which is slowed down by refrigeration, each piece would grow into a whole new cow. That’s why these animals had to be destroyed, because if they were left to their own devices, we would be overrun with them. Not to mention what may happen to animals who ate parts of these animals – we couldn’t even grind up these genetically modified livestock into dog food – it could seriously damage the ecosystem.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” cried grandma Lisa.

People really are so dumb though. Even the Amish got hoodwinked into replacing their heirloom livestock with cloned animals from the Sandy Mount company who just so happened to also sell the corn to feed them, which was cheaper and easier than the Amish growing their own corn to feed their own animals as they’d been doing forever.  Worse though, is that so many people signed on to ranch these animals due to government subsidies that no one thought to even try to preserve heirloom species. There was no Noah’s Ark, the so-called “frozen zoo” had a malfunction and everything thawed in 2019. The cow as my grandma knew it is extinct. As is the pig and the chicken and anything else you’d find on a farm 30 years ago. The cloning system was working so well and the whole world was fed so they thought “this must be a good thing”. With a lack of labelling of genetically modified produce, people just got used to that too and stopped protesting. Even vegans eventually got on board because it meant they could have any type of fresh fruit or vegetable any time they wanted no matter where they were in the world or what season it was.

And of course, there was the Svalbard disaster of 2032. Unknown armed terrorists wearing balaclavas and no distinguishing clothing, just all in black, descended on the Svalbard Global Seed Vault by small stolen planes on June 22nd and they killed the small staff that was in the building but left all of the security cameras undisturbed because they wanted someone to see what they were about to do.

The security cameras, the feeds of which were also stored at an offsite location, showed the terrorists, 18 in all, placing homemade ANFO bombs all throughout the seed rooms. I’m not even sure how many there were total, but enough that when they blew, it destroyed the entire stock of the seed bank, devastating the world’s original food supply. The terrorists were shot down trying to fly back to Norway but when officials got to the wreckage, they found that all 8 people were dead, apparently of cyanide poisoning: they had all killed themselves. This was a kamikaze mission.

The terrorists were eventually identified as being from all over the world but connected via the internet and while it was never proven – no motive ever was – many people I know thought the terrorists were hired goons for someone higher up because as soon as the news hit that Svalbard had been decimated, the stocks for Sandy Mount and companies like it shot up like squirrels with their tails on fire. Everything was investigated forward and backward but there was never any proven link between the terrorists and any of those companies or those companies’ shareholders. My gran said it was “some next level illuminati shit” because whoever did it doomed the whole world – except us – to be dependent on genetically modified produce, that these companies owned the patents for, for time immemorial.

Once people realized that the genetically modified – or GMO for short – corn had made the cloned animals act like planarians, they started questioning the genetically modified tomatoes and lettuce in their salads. The corn on the cob they had at their barbeques. The beans and textured vegetable protein in their vegan chili. If the meat had changed their DNA, would the genetically modified produce make them behave like planarians too? If someone lost a finger, would it grow into a whole new clone of that person?

Governments around the world obviously reassured their people that the produce was safe and that it had been tested for a long time with no ill effects, meanwhile behind closed doors presidents and prime ministers were ordering their top scientists to drop everything and make damn sure that what they were saying was true.

It was around this time that mom and gran started getting antsy and the guns were brought up from the cellar. Our farm is already protected by 12 foot fences topped by razor wire, disguised by rows of sunflowers but I had never seen the guns come out before and it frightened me. Being 14 years old, my mom said I was old enough to learn how to shoot so mom and grandma Lisa took me out to the behind the greenhouse and had me shoot old paint cans. They said I was a natural and that made me proud, but I was still scared because I didn’t understand why I might have to use the shotgun I held in my hands. They took me back into the house and sat me down at the kitchen table where gran gave me a dish of applesauce with raisins.

Our farm, they said, is veganic. This I already knew, it has been veganic for generations. We didn’t even fertilize with manure, we exclusively used compost. “All of the plants and seeds on our property are heirloom and right now that is a very valuable thing”, gran said with a hard edge to her normally soft as kittens voice.

Suddenly everything came into focus. All the rest of the world had was genetically modified seeds that may be making them sick and we were sitting on a farm with produce that had never been tampered with and we had an abundance of seeds because we harvested our own. The reason my mom and gran were certain that we wouldn’t start mutating was because we were raw vegans living on an organic heirloom farm. We ate very little that we didn’t grow ourselves.

My gran used to be famous, sort of. A long time ago she wrote a blog and book about eating a raw diet which we still follow, called “Raw on $10 a Day (or less!)”, which became a national bestseller at the time, as different diets were all the rage and people were eager to try anything that would give them the kind of glow my gran naturally had then, as she still has now. Because of this, she said, it was feasible that certain people may come looking for her now because in her book she suggested that people be wary of genetically modified organisms and that they should grow their own since the government refused to label them. Some people would naturally assume that she was doing this now.

She said that since we had a surplus of seeds, we could send some of them to someone but who would that someone be? And would the farm, our food, be safe from looters, our own neighbours, in the meantime?

These questions would have to remain unanswered for now. For now the gate to our driveway is chained shut and padlocked and my mom has been on the internet non-stop, trying to find the right person to offer our seeds to, someone who wouldn’t take advantage of us and leave us without food for ourselves. We’ve never trusted the government but it looked like on some level we were going to have to. While mom did that, gran was on the phone with family members who all also had farms like ours in Michigan and between all of us, gran said, we could show the government just what “Militiagan” meant.

As they did that, I immersed myself in 24-hour news for days.

In India they refused to kill the cows but made a preserve for them, agreeing to the United Nations’ stipulations that they keep the sexes separate so they would not mate and die out naturally and that if the bovine population began expanding rather than declining, then a complete liquidation would be necessary.

There were a lot of talking heads saying that the changes in people’s DNA were permanent and that we could be seeing birth defects for generations from this. Already babies were being born with deformities akin to the Chernobyl disaster of 1986, like having two faces or babies that looked like their features were trying to slide off their faces altogether. Fortunately for these babies, most of them did not survive outside of the womb for longer than a few weeks. Because of these babies, women were getting abortions and tubal ligations in record numbers.

Doctors all over the world had a hard time keeping up with the effects of the meat between birth abnormalities, abortions, cancers and adolescent or adult mutations. Doctors and scientists found that no matter the mutation, if they operated on it, the same mutation would just grow back. The cancers were completely untreatable tumours inside people in various places from brains to bowels and the cancer was in every cell in between; it was in their DNA. Removing any of these tumours was fruitless because they would just grow back and by then the cancer would have already spread to somewhere really bad, like the kidneys or the liver or the brain, if it hadn’t been there previously anyway.

A new symptom started afflicting people where they would get a crazed look on their face, make a high pitched squeal, bite their own tongues off and eat them. Patient zero appeared to have been a woman in Japan on a crowded train and many cases have now been reported on every continent. The patients afflicted by this new behaviour then collapse into a catatonic state and stay that way indefinitely, unaware of anything happening around them, unable to feel pain or cold, unable to eat or evacuate waste on their own. The cause of this new, “cat got your tongue” syndrome is unknown but it is presumed to be related to what the media is now calling “murderous meat”.

Esther Hughes, seer, committed suicide.

With so much going on, every person on Earth basically started diets of rice and beans. Because no one knew what was safe to eat, people stuck to produce in cans, thinking they were better somehow, and all vegetables had to be nukrowaved for at least 5 minutes before consumption, because people were thinking that would “kill off” whatever DNA was active in the vegetable that could potentially harm them.

The vitamin and supplement industry was booming as people struggled to keep from being malnourished. People trusted synthetic nourishment in pills over fresh oranges and bananas and bread, a phenomenon turning a thousand science fiction books and movies into prophecies.

Some governments had to put in place bans on the exportation of meat because poaching had become a problem as people hunted the wildest of game to try and feed their families, such as cheetahs, zebras, seals and puffins. The breeding programs for deer had been successful so far but on nowhere near the scale they needed to feed any kind of large population. The elk and moose were less successful at breeding on their own so scientists resorted to the outdated practice of in vitro fertilization and things seemed hopeful.

I thought it was pointless though. People wanted no part of meat at all or even soy products that were made to resemble meat. People were sick and scared. The future of the human race was in question and we still didn’t know what was going to happen to us or our farm.

Then one morning at dawn there was the honk of a vehicle at our front gate. We looked out the window and there was a procession of shiny black cars parked on the side of the dirt road we lived on. My gran told us to stay in the house and to stay armed and she went out the side door to the truck. We have a very long driveway and my gran, while incredibly healthy and vibrant, is still elderly, so she drove the truck – unarmed – to the front gate to greet the people on the other side.

My mother and I watched with teeth on edge at the front windows. My mother was texting someone, I asked who, she said “everyone, this is happening” and I grew more afraid.

Much to our great surprise, gran unchained the gate and one of the men in suits pushed it aside. Gran got back in the truck and backed her way back up the driveway, parking at the side of the house as the truck had been before. As she did this, those 6 shiny black cars followed her up the driveway, with the last one closing and chaining the gate behind them all.

My mother told me to stay in the house and with shotgun in hand, she went through the kitchen and out the side door my gran had gone out previously to greet gran and these unidentified people. I ran behind her to watch what was about to happen through the window in the kitchen door. My mother said loudly, “mother, what the hell?” and as she said that men came out of the black cars, guns also in hand, screaming for my mother to “drop it” and get on the ground.

“There’s no need for that,” my grandmother said. “Honey put the gun down, it’s okay.” And my mother warily obeyed, placing the gun on the stair in front of her and putting her hands in the air. She slowly lowered them as a small figure emerged from one of the black cars. A thin woman with dark hair cut in a chin-length bob, wearing large sunglasses and a Pratt skirt, blouse and blazer stepped out of the car and into the sunlight. Behind her, a large man wearing the kind of suit every man wears only wearing it slightly better than the average man stepped out of the vehicle and held her hand as she picked her way through the mud toward gran, my mother and me.

She didn’t need to introduce herself but she did anyway and shook my grandmother’s hand. She was none other than the President of the United States, Belinda-Anne Briggs and her companion was the First Gentleman Charles Johnson.

Gran invited them into the house and lead them up the steps of the porch, where my mother had retrieved and put away the shotgun before scurrying into the house ahead of them. I didn’t know what to do so I went into the living room and slouched in the doorway between that room and the kitchen to watch what was about to unfold.

Gran, the President and the First Gentleman sat down at the kitchen table and my mother leaned against the kitchen counter. My grandma told my mother to get everyone some apple cider, which she explained we grow the apples, press them and bottle the cider ourselves so it was guaranteed to be GMO-free. Our guests gladly accepted and my mother served everyone a large glass. She offered me one but I just shook my head no, wanting to be as invisible as possible in the shadow of someone so huge.

President Briggs began by telling my grandmother how much she enjoyed reading her book and how she thought it was a shame that it was out of print and that that is something that should be remedies as soon as possible because a raw, vegan diet of fresh food is exactly what the American people, or even the world, needed right now. The second thing she wanted to discuss was our farm. She wanted to know everything about it, about how we keep our orchard pest-free, about what we grow in the greenhouse and how we harvest seeds. It was the letter she seemed the most interested in.

My grandmother flat out told her that we had a surplus of GMO-free heirloom seeds and that we had been trying to figure out what we could do with them to best help the world, if anything and the President cried real tears of joy, holding my grandmother’s hands across the table with both of hers and squeezing affectionately.

Something North America still had that a lot of the world did not was open spaces for planting fields, especially since the cattle and poultry industries were no more, said the President. She wanted to start by a few select organic farmers like ourselves planting “victory gardens”, a concept from the last century, harvesting enough food for ourselves and our neighbours and collecting enough seeds to plant for the next year, as well as to share with the government who would distribute the seeds to applying farmers. All of these activities would be heavily monitored by the military to ensure that the organic food supply remained GMO-free and to protect the gardens and fields from theft. The infrastructure was easy enough to implement, explained President Briggs, it was the seed stock that was the problem. Even farmers who had been planting perfectly normal organic corn in the earlier 2000s sometimes had genetically modified corn blow into their fields and when Sandy Mount found that these farmers were inadvertently selling their patented product, they sued the farmer into bankruptcy. The President said that she was in the process of creating a set of laws for the companies that produce genetically modified organisms that would eventually phase them out, make them illegal in this country and have them pay for the long-term implementation of the victory gardens. Apparently Canada was on board as well and due to our long-standing alliance with them, we would be co-operating with people on both sides of the border through the internet and mail system.

Gran said that even sending one person three tomato seeds to plant on a windowsill with instructions on how to eat most of the fruit and save a lot of the seeds at the same time, to be shared with someone else could make a difference. With time and the right selection process, community gardens and rooftop buildings with all tenants taking care of their own food supplies would be possible.

“YES!” exclaimed the President. “Exactly! This is exactly what I envision as well!”

“This,” grandma Lisa said stiffly, “is what I was trying to say in 2014.”

“And we should have listened,” President Briggs quietly admitted, meaning every word as she patted my grandmother’s hands.

After that, gran took the President, the First Gentleman and some of their staff down the muddy path to see the orchard, greenhouse and Southeast field while my mother got to work preparing gran’s famous cucumber dressing which we paired with a summer salad topped with edible pansies; it was gran’s showcase meal, if she ever had one. As she did that, I started peeling the apples for gran’s “Awesome Rawsome Applesauce” for dessert enjoying the sunshine streaming through the partially open kitchen window, a breeze slightly flicking the lace curtains. I smiled. Today was a new day.

December 30, 2013

Oh, Carolina what you been fed?

Above is “Raspberry” by Grouplove, as recommended by Alex and Ronny during our friend post-Xmas/pre-2014 party yesterday. Ronny said he was reading something about them or about the album (Spreading Rumours, downloading now…) where the writer said they made the best Pixies song of the last 20 years. I couldn’t agree more. The Pixies are currently touring without Kim and have new material created without Kim and I’m sorry but no Kim, no deal. Pun intended! I listened to the first song they released without her but I thought it was garbage so I never bothered with the rest of it.

In other Pixies news, I Kickstarted a big Pixies coffee table book for Blake for Xmas like, almost a year ago now? And they said they’d deliver by Xmas but like, 3 or 4 days before Xmas, they sent out an e-mail saying “sorry, not until February…” and I was like, “GEE, THANKS FOR TELLING ME THAT A FEW DAYS BEFORE XMAS” because I only got Blake 2 things and that was one of them and it’s not easy for me to get out and get something else, also I don’t exactly have money to buy more things so that was a bummer.

I also Kickstarted the game “Stonehearth” because I thought Wes would like it and their delivery date for beta was supposed to be December 1st but they e-mailed and said they weren’t ready and that instead they were going to release “alpha 1” version of the game that is super bare bones and glitchy and you can’t save your game I think on Xmas Day. I haven’t bothered to download it yet because…

…for Xmas I got the 2 newest Sims expansions so now I have ultimate power!!!!!! (For someone who refuses to play with mods or custom content created outside the Sims Exchange.) I’ve spent the last 5 days creating my family and building my house. I’m about halfway finished the latter.

Xmas was good, everyone liked their presents and we had turkey and stuffing. Actually, Xmas Day, ALL I had was stuffing for dinner, then later on I had a turkey sandwich. The next day, Boxing Day, we went to my mom’s with my brother and there was a super creepy moment there where John and I said the same random thing at the exact same time, “this ham has the texture of cat food” and it was like we were one. My mother just about had kittens, it was so funny.

I talked to my brother a lot about his girlfriend. They’ve been together for 9 months, met on a dating site, she’s THIRTY (he’s 28 ooooooooooooh la la), she’s Croatian and then at the end of the night when we dropped my brother off, I got to meet her. She’s a giant! But then again so is my brother so that’s probably good. Anyway, she seemed alright in the 20 seconds I said “hi” and “bye”. In that 20 seconds I could tell she was leagues more mature than my brother, also good.

I am SO grateful that my coworker could fill in for my mornings on Boxing Day and Friday because Boxing Day was an early morning with having to pick my brother up (and we were running about 2 hours early because Blake and I had a miscommunication) and a late night for the same reason, so I would have been useless at 5am Friday morning for work.

Not doing anything for New Year’s Eve because I never do and I have to work in the morning BUT the Winter Classic game is in the afternoon so that’s definitely in the cards. Speaking of cards, Wes is like, a Cards Against Humanity savant. This was one of his contributions last night. He’s TEN.

I made my mom a painting for Xmas but it wasn’t finished until late Xmas night so I didn’t have an opportunity to take pics of it. Well, good pics anyway. I wasn’t happy with how it turned out but she liked it and that’s all that matters. In the new year I’m going to post what I made my Secret Satan but I think she’s going to be in high demand so I’m not going to post her until I have prints etc. set up in my Zazzle shop, pending the pics I took before I shipped her off to the US are good enough.

So yeah. Happy New Year if I don’t post before then!

August 1, 2013

I Laugh Until My Head Comes Off

Listening to this. I found out recently that Dick Dale once said he wrote this song after someone challenged him to write a song using only one string or something like that. I hated Pulp Fiction (I know, I know…what oh what in the world could ever be wrong with me?) but this was a good song on the Tarantino Connection soundtrack type album I used to have and this was on it.

So what I’m thinking about right now is how good my kids’ lives have been up until this point. (Not that there’s anything happening right now, I just mean up to the present.) Their parents are super in love, I think we all do pretty well in the food department, we can afford the pets we have, the entertainment we have, the bills we need to pay in order to live, my medications that aren’t covered by insurance, gas, a car, a home; we worry about money from time to time and we’re constantly worried about money but honestly, I just think that’s the nature of money. Everyone worries about money. I think about the fact that at Madison’s age I was institutionalized for my 2nd suicide attempt and at Madison’s age my mom was my mom. Madison has her problem and issues that are totally valid, but the fact is that most of them my mom and I had on TOP of the other two things. Which I don’t think Madison understands. Madison is a really good kid with a lot of privilege/s. And obviously she understands that it’s in her best interest to maintain said privileges that she gets and that being a brat, or inattentive to her household duties (which I don’t think we’re that strict about except the kitchen because dirty kitchens are gross and we all partake in cleaning that daily), means privileges get taken away. Like cell phones. iPods. Facebook. Video games. The internet. Etc.

When I was her age and institutionalized, mostly the whole time I was there I was scared because this to me was “the most trouble you could possibly be in at this time”. And that feeling sucks. It scares me to this day to the point where I avoid certain specific scenarios to ensure I’m never in the most shit I could possibly be in. Being…examined is the 2nd worse feeling in the world. They made me do “art therapy” where this big red-headed guy named ART, I shit thee not, handed me a pad of paper and a pack of pencil crayons and asked me about my life. And then he’d say, “can you draw that for me please?” So I made shit up. I basically described the habits, or so-called habits of a 15 year old moody goth (even though I didn’t “look” anything or listen to goth music). I told them I liked to hang out in the graveyard by my house, which was just up the hill and they thought that was the strangest behaviour I had upon my release. “Be careful in the graveyard,” said the head psych lady whose name I forget but she had an accent as she hugged me goodbye. Well she said one other thing but I’m not going to say what that was publicly.

Listening to this.

So I also had this funny idea, because I’ve been thinking about family a lot in the last little while, and who my family is. (One of Madison’s friends has a really large family and we were talking about it & determined that we come from a medium-sized family.) So I have this cousin, named Scott, whom I completely adored my whole childhood. He was literally my favourite person. And then he became my most hated person. And now I’m just “forgive and release”. But anyway, the last I ever inquired about him, he was selling men’s cosmetics, which is apparently a whole thing. And I guess he was pretty good at it, which is no surprise because he was an amazing artist, and now he works for MAC cosmetics, which in the cosmetics world, as I understand it, is a pretty high up place to be. Apparently he has a daughter now but I have no idea how old. Anyway, when my grama dies, he’ll definitely be at the funeral and seeing him will be toooooootally awkward. Being there at all is going to be bad enough but dealing with him is going to make it a thousand times worse. Unless everything’s totally cool. Which is possible. I’m open to the possibility.

I also wonder where she’s going to be buried and what her tombstone is going to say and who her neighbours are going to be. I’ve been afraid to ask that though. Like, it’s totally none of my business. I’m just curious. I don’t know where my grampa is buried and I don’t know where Wes Baker is buried. I know the graveyard my great grama is in but I wouldn’t know how to get there or what it was called.

Anyway, this is just the kind of thing I think about as the day goes by…listening to this.

Actually now I’m listening to a remix of No Rain by Blind Melon done by Pumpkin. If you google it, his soundcloud or whatever that site is should come up. I like it, Blake doesn’t.

Here’s a pic of the bruising on the top of my foot. I have another awful red bruise sort of between my heel and ankle that I couldn’t take a picture of myself.

God my feet are weird.

I just read this xoJane article on 5 things to buy when your son sends a girl or woman an unwanted picture of his dick. Here’s the top comment:

I always told the moms. I tell my mom when my brother is being a misogynistic douche. The true true sadness of my experience is that 100% of the times, the moms are on the side of their precious baby boys Because THEY are misogynistic douches.

 – Natalia Alfonso

And then Sad But True by Metallica came on and hahahaha it was just a random moment that I thought was funny.

If I found out Wes was sending dick pics and thus transmitting child pornography to ANYONE, it wouldn’t be what 5 things I should buy myself, it’s the 1 thing I should take away from him. If I found out my brother did it, honestly, I wouldn’t care because it’s his dick and he can do what he wants with it. If he thought that was a responsible move obviously we need to spend more time together so he gets to understand women. That said, I send Blake boob pics sometimes so there is okay times and place for that and obviously that would be a topic for discussion. Plus, I get naked online ALL THE TIME, or at least I used to, so it’s less of a big deal for me. My body’s out there, for better or for worse. Plus he’s my husband. I don’t think he belongs to some txt pics phone ring with other married guys who show off their wives’ racks or something stupid like that. He honestly probably deletes them. It would not surprise me in the slightest.

I haven’t washed my hair in a week and it’s still looking as intended. I put on a hat if we’re leaving the house though. People can’t handle my crazy.

Madison is visiting a friend in town today so it’s just me and Wes. He’s playing Minecraft or Little Big Planet or watching YouTube videos because that’s just what he does.

Here’s a pic I took of myself before I fucked up my ankle:

And bleached out my hair…
My roots were becoming unbearable.

So that’s why I haven’t washed my hair in a week. I bleached the shit out of it and now I need my hair’s natural oils to coat and protect the hair again. It just also happens to look better when I don’t brush it. Albeit very very crazy.

I have a headache for the first time in a long time. I think it’s from looking at screens more than sleeping, just eyestrain or whatnot. A smart person with the ability to do so would go have a nap but I’ve never claimed to be a smart person.

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps by Cake just came on. I like Cake a LOT and I’m bummed that I’ve never had the chance to see them live. I’m afraid they’re going to stop performing before I’m able to make that happen. From what I’ve read online, they really only play California anymore. Guess I’m going to have to go to them…

Last night Blake and I were driving around the beach and we actually saw this guy in a pickup truck drive right over a couple of medians to get to the McDonald’s drive-thru. I was like, “holy shit is he really doing that?!” So funny. Only at the beach. *shakes head*


Uhhhhh…. A HARMONICA solo on Baba O’Riley?? I forget what the original instrument is but it’s not a fucking harmonica and I believe it’s something that requires a bow. That was terrible. *scrubs this from her mind*

Here’s a good quality sounding version of the song with the weirdo instrument solo that is absolutely not a harmonica. A HARMONICA. I cannot even.

This is better. Reset.

Sometimes it really sucks being stuck alone with your own thoughts for too long and not being able to talk to anyone over the age of 18 about ANYTHING. Sometimes it really sucks that Madison reads my blog because there is a certain period of my life that I can’t write about without her becoming curious about the people in it and that would be a very bad thing because these people all ended up being scumbags. And I don’t mean scumbags lightly? I mean habitual losers who will fuck over anyone who’s not kin and even that’s questionable and who are always scheming and scamming or feuding with someone. These people are con artists, slimy manipulative alcoholics and grossly mentally ill and unmedicated most of the time and just plain scheezy in every possible way…and I honestly doubt they’ve changed.

But they weren’t always that way.

When I was Madison’s age, I was still just getting to know Phil, my biological father, while juggling my affection and devotion to my step-father Ken, while…let’s just call it “dealing with my family”. When I was 14 or 15 I spent a few weeks in the summer with Phil and Lisa and my cousin Brynne and that’s when they had the carpet store. By the end of it, I was getting so mad that they wouldn’t let me go home. No one would take the time to take me back  because it’s about 2 hours away from where I lived and they were sooooooooo busy. They took me to Dyer Memorial, which I hear is not being taken care of anymore which I think is a real shame, and Lisa attempted to teach me how to drive (we ended up in a ditch, having hit a phone booth on the WRONG side of the road; she was like, “no problem”, put “The Kicker” in 4-wd mode and got us out of the ditch haha). We went 4-wheeling one time which was pretty crazy and we stopped at a stream and fished for a while before heading back. We ate fiddleheads and leaks. But they were super health nuts who were super in shape etc and hard to be around ALL the time, so I wanted to go home I’ll say after 2 or 3 weeks and it was like, this big long drawn out production and inconvenience that I needed to go home.

But the thing was, when I wasn’t there, I was curious about him. I mean, that time I spent with him was the first time I’d ever spent any amount of time on “his turf” and as him being the “parent” EVER and it was weird. And he’s a GOOD person!

Anyway, blah blah blah.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Dead Sound*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ho-lee-shit. There’s a fucking sinkhole near our house and chaos is ensuing as it widens! How big will it get? Who knows?  I’ve e-mailed Blake about it, who would be on the wrong side of it right now. I sent him a message on AIM, if I don’t get a  reply soon I’ll call him because he said he’d be leaving work at 4:30pm. It’s 4:26pm as I type this. There are other ways to get home without taking the 400, I’m sure, and I’m also sure he knows them, but who knows how they’re re-routing people closer to home.  It’s not like he listens to the radio on his way home or anything so he may have no idea.

Madison is making me pancakes! Hooray for Madison!

*shudder* I just read an article on xoJane about whether or not you like long nails or short nails and I haaaaaaaaaate long nails. omfg do I hate them. I hate real ones, I hate fake ones, I even hate nail polish (on my own fingers, but toes are okay). I am terrified of ripping a nail off and I type for a living, it would drive me insane. The article was so specific that I was like, cringing so I’m not going to link it. Ew.


Snowden granted 1-year asylum in Russia, leaves airport” – *WHEW*

Oh hey, I just made a new page on my site for people wanting to advertise here. Check it out. :o)

I called Blake to tell him about the sinkhole so he can come home an alternate route. Where it is, he thought, was the 2nd closest exit to where he was so it was good I called him.

I love this song. It’s pretty much my entire attitude on life.

Here’s me right now:

Blake’s home, peace oot.

July 30, 2013

Hands Up, Baby Hands Up

I could be completely wrong but I think that Blurred Lines (ugh) song by Alan Thicke’s son, the “editor’s cut” or whatever of the video I just saw for the first time this morning. I know nothing about this guy other than that one video, I even forget his name like, every time I think about him, which is like, never, so anyway I think he sampled the song I know as “Hands Up, Baby Hands Up” from the old Club Med commercials. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that guy’s a dick whatever the case may be.

Know who else needs public shaming? That Bieber kid. I like, excommunicate him from Canada because in my imagination I have that ability. *taps temple*

Now that that’s over I remember that I came here to add to yesterday’s story that during ALL of that puking, shitting, sprained foot bullshit? I was also on the rag. So like, yay. Which reminds me of this commercial for a wicked service for women in the US that’ll send you your period supplies and a treat in the mail and it’s in tune with your cycle. So I guess it’s for regular period girls. Wouldn’t work for me even if it was available in Canada. (Also I use Lunapads so my periods are basically free at this point.) Anyway I thought it was cool. A good thing to wake up to. Also good to wake up to was this:

Which I got on Layla’s tumblr. (Possibly NSFW all the time but it is right now.)

Also this guy is awesome. That’s from Reddit.

So Snoop Dogg took a trip to Jamaica, brought a bunch of music writers from the US with him and he made a reggae album at a studio there…and turned into a rastafarian because c’mon, this is SNOOP DOGG – or sorry, Snoop LION because he’s “reincarnated” now right? – isn’t that the obvious conclusion? But Bunny Wailer, for reasons I’m not entirely sure of excommunicated him from the rastafarian faith and then everything was cool for a while, as far as I understand it and Snoop and Bunny were friends again, and then I see this really offensive quote where Snoop LION claimed to be the reincarnation of Bob Marley and I just about ate my tongue. So I had interest in the album in the winter when the videos for “Here Comes the King” and “La La La” were released on YouTube – both of which I liked – but then I promptly forgot about it because hello, I have the mind of a goldfish. I sieve out the most unimportant shit I see in a day and keep what was good (or bad, depending on the day).  I see the quote, remember the record, fire up SoulSeek and download it because I am not paying for this crap, especially if I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit. Which it was, but I can’t stop listening to a few of the songs, which have made it on my Summer 2013 playlist. That’s only 22 songs so far but I’m trying to diversify so Blake doesn’t want to kill me on car rides since that’s when it mostly gets listened to. Moral of the story: Snoop Lion is a poser who made a pop record. Congrats.

Speaking of Blake…I woke up with him this morning and we cuddled in bed for about 40 minutes and I didn’t even realize he’d shaved his immigration playoff beard until like, 15 minutes in! He said it was itchy and driving him crazy so he shaved it. Fair enough! I have no idea what it feels like to grow a beard (thank god) and it’s his face, he can do whatever he wants with it. I didn’t like it because I think beards are scratchy and gross on most people and he knows that but that I can deal for short periods of time.

This is one of two giant pieces of Jade found in Canada in 2000. The thread about it is here. Currently they’re debating whether creating a sculpture of a buddhist religious icon with the second one would be more valuable than carving it into a giant dragon penis.

Just a Friend by Biz Markie made it onto my Summer 2013 playlist thanks to Allure from Camwhores (probably NSFW at the moment but definitely a whole lotta fun!) I hadn’t heard that song in soooooo long. :o)

Speaking of Camwhores, there’s a limit of how many videos you can post over there in their blogs section, which I think is a fucking travesty but I’m not going  to bug Kevin to change it because the man has enough problems, so as the one video I’m going to post in this post is this one.

I think I’ve posted it before and people probably already know it, but it’s probably in my top 5 favourite songs of all time (this version though, but a better quality audio track) and it pretty much makes it onto every playlist I make.

Right now Blake and the kids and Brooke and Charlie are at laser tag. haha suckers. Even if my foot wasn’t completely fucked up, I don’t think I would have partook of that. I suggested they go to Pie because it’s right there but I guess there’s pizza at the laser tag place so they’ll just eat there.  Blake’s bringing me home Quiznos. If he keeps my note I’ll show it to you later.

I managed to get to the bathroom, grab a plastic bag from the laundry room, crutch my way into the kitchen, maneuver the fridge on one foot without falling, get 2 Diet Cokes in the bag and crutch back to my office which requires me to go down 3 stairs. Know what that makes me? A fucking ninja badass. Who has Diet Coke.  Booyah.

Thinking at this moment that it would be pretty cool if my brother were here or even if he was on the internet right now. He defriended me on Facebook a long time ago after being a dick on my status update, getting in a fight with my cousin Haylie, me seeing Haylie’s point, my brother then messages me with bullshit and I give him bullshit right back because you fight bullshit with bullshit that’s just how it is. Then he’s like “blah blah blah goodbye sister” or something stupidly dramatic (I realize the irony of that statement!) and defriends me. So that was my last communication with him which was ON WES’ 10TH BIRTHDAY. The status update mentioned Wes’ birthday and finding out my grama was in the hospital and had been diagnosed with cancer. And he pulls bullshit.

But that was February. It’s now almost August and he’s staying with my mom still as far as I know. And he’s seen my grama a lot from what I understand and he’s being very helpful. This is good news. So I’ve been entertaining the idea of hanging out with him and my mom and my grama at my grama’s apartment.

Except this week was out because Brooke & Charlie were visiting, my work meeting was Wednesday, and I have to set up for that…township building art show thingy for the month of August. The thing they made us sign just said that I’d drop the art off and they’d arrange it, so, bonus. At least I don’t have to do that. I just have to buy a tablecloth. If they can do early morning Blake could work from Barrie and drop it all off on his way to work. Maybe if he gets home and isn’t tired from playing with the kids we can go get the tablecloth since he took today off. DAMMIT I’m on crutches. I can’t navigate Wal*Mart on CRUTCHES!!! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

Ugh. That sucks.

I guess my instructions will be “no patterns, don’t pick a stupid colour, don’t pick white, black is okay”? *thumbs up*? bueno? yeez?

Damn. Just looked at Twitter. Whistleblowing = espionage in the US. Wow. No idea what my country would do in the same situation or if they’d even ever be in that situation (probably) but that’s harsh, man. Bradley Manning, 136 years in prison if sentenced to max penalties. Sentencing tomorrow morning. Wow. Just wow. Run Edward Snowden, Run may be tomorrow’s headline.

Don’t you think it’s a little weird that the US is getting less strict about same sex marriage just as Russia is getting more strict on gay everything while they also basically harbour a fugitive the US wants? Interesting timing don’t you think?

Those are the three international news items (and Gitmo) that have crossed my path on a daily basis in the last little while. Or at least the only ones I’m paying any attention to.  Monsanto craziness is always happening it seems and it would make sense that either something in the GMO plants, which Monsanto provides the seed for, or the pesticides the plants have been GM’d to be able to withstand, which Monsanto also makes, is responsible for the whole bee thing so fuck Monsanto and anything GM to the best of your ability. Unfortunately a lot of processed foods already contain GM ingredients and it’s not labeled so like, the best stuff is probably GM unfortunately. Like the potatoes in chips, I bet those are GM. Unless it’s labeled you just don’t know. First it’s the bees, then it’s going to be the butterflies. Then the birds. The fish are already poisoned.

Not that I’d eat fish anyway, but, y’know…

I just made it into the kitchen with my plastic bag and got the last cold Diet Coke and bottle of water in the house, cursing Blake and the children for not leaving me better rations if they were going to be out this long. :o/ I’m not ninja enough to be able to handle stocking the fridge with cases of Coke and water on crutches.

Oh well.

Listening to this. I didn’t link to the official video because I didn’t like the part in the middle screwing up the song’s vibe. I’ve never seen a song so blatantly and heavy-handedly have a message attached to it with a video. It was cool when I thought it was about guns in clubs, which is a very real problem around the world, but attaching it to Sandy Hook and Columbine and everything seemed a little off initial message. Then again, I’m not usually exposed to official music videos. I’ve only just started looking up random stuff on YouTube to see if it exists, if it’s popular, if I can download it and if it’s worth sharing with the world, passing it on.

I didn’t grow up with cable so while I’m of the MTV Generation (or Much Music, as we had/have in Canada), I missed a lot of things just because my music was what was on the radio and tapes my friends made me. So sometimes music videos catch me off guard and since I’m a super auditory person, I’ll usually link the best MP3 quality I can find, unless the live version is good enough. I used to broadcast on Blip.fm but their search engine is so fucking stupid that all it would ever give me is live versions (usually terrible) or covers (also usually terrible) so I gave up and now I’m just linking to YouTube directly. It wouldn’t kill me to have another tab open for quick searches…says the girl with 15 tabs open. And the day’s not even half over yet.

Canadian Man Sorry for Chugging Eight Beers and Swimming to Detroit” <—- hilarious.

 Oh god, a kid just came to the door, I could tell by the knock. Freaked the dogs out so they started barking like over-protective assholes but I’m on crutches. I couldn’t get to the front door and open it without the dogs getting out before the kid was gone on crutches anyway so I had to sit here like a tool and hope they just went away.

Well, my computer is in front of a window and the “front door” is to the right. My music was turned up to 11 because hello, no one’s home, neighbours aren’t home, why not? So I had to sit here though, and wait until they went away because I didn’t want them to hear me typing. Fucking kids. GRRRR.

Okay I just opened the last cold can of Coke in the house. This is TERRIBLE.  Listening to Miley Cyrus makes the pain go away. Have texted Blake for an ETA. Response percentage 50%.

I wish I could afford to get this for Blake for passing his citizenship test. He would absolutely love it. I’m going to try and talk him into buying it for himself. Today is the last day you can get it. Thanks Stephy! (And for once Madison would try stealing HIS clothes rather than mine.)

People never understand me when I say I need two monitors to do my job. My boss taught me how to do it on two monitors and that’s just how I learned. Blake has 2 at home but 3 at work. People don’t understand what I mean when I say I want a titty-free computer – which this one 98% of the time is – and that one has the biggest monitor of the 3 on my desk. 3 monitors, 2 computers. I also have a cellphone in my lap at the moment which has the biggest screen out of all the phones, I’m pretty sure. I am a sadly connected person haha

Listening to this. Have you ever looked the lyrics of this song up on the internet? Funny shit if you ever get bored.  “You are my guiding star, my shingling light, I love you baby”. :o)

I really hope no more kids come to the door. The dogs are spazzes and the kids told all their friends they’d be with their grandparents today so I dunno what dumb kid it must have been. But if he’s dumb enough to knock once, then twice when there was no answer, he’s dumb enough to come back and knock 3 times like the little pestilent troll he probably is.

Dammit. I wasted my only video on something auditory. Well, that’s fine. But I’m listening to Amanda Palmer, who, if you’re not familiar with,  this is a pretty good start and you should totally watch the video because there’s titties, if nothing else.

Blake got Wayned at the grocery store over the weekend and apparently Judy was totally nice to him too for a change. Ashley was with them. I dunno about the baby, I forgot to ask.  Just interesting that they were at our grocery store when he works at the grocery store at the beach. Maybe the beach one runs out of good stuff early on the weekends. Wouldn’t surprise me. Even on days that kinda suck, the beach is usually pretty busy, that’s why we stay out of the main beach area and go to what’s known as Allenwood. The water and sand’s cleaner there than the main beaches, I think, and it’s also not as crowded. The parking’s not as expensive too, I think.

Anyway, it’s just better. I wish we could live near there rather than going closer to Blake’s office.

Random thought, I know, but if you have a reason to be at the beach, I think you should be at the beach!

Blake just texted me back. It’s roughly an hour after I texted him requesting an update on how long I have to make this Diet Coke last. He’s at Quiznos now so that’s probably 40 mins away. Like I said, texting him was a 50/50 shot of actually getting an answer. He hates texting. He got me a small, cold bottle of Diet Coke to go with my sandwich because he’s thoughtful like that. Yay! <3

When they get home, I’m going to end this and spend the rest of the day with them maybe watching Six Feet Under if I can talk Madison into it. Blake will almost literally watch anything so that leaves a wide selection. We finished Trailer Park Boys season 1 on the weekend and I thought it was pretty awesome, so we might watch more of that. Honestly I’m just hungry and don’t really care either so it’ll probably be one of those. Or a movie of Blake’s choosing.

They’re home! YAY!

Here’s my note to Blake. Peace be with you my ninjas!

January 3, 2013

Idle No More

Inside Story:Her health is deteriorating, she still has not gotten the meeting she’s looking for with the PM, although John Duncan has expressed concern for her health & encouraged her to stop this, where is this headed?

Dr. Pam Palmater:Well think about it, John Duncan offers a media release that he’s tried so many times to contact her. He tries to contact her at the band office, he tries by fax, by letter– she’s in a teepee on Victoria Island. Everybody in the world knows where she is, everybody has gone to go visit her.

Posted at 1:30 pm in: Canada , Politics , videos , winter , youtube
December 22, 2012

Ladies & Gentlemen, the Prime Minister of Canada

WTF? Did Stephen Harper’s Twitter get hacked? Saying “Mmm bacon” to HOMER SIMPSON and linking to a Simpsons video called “you don’t win friends with salad” while an Indian chief is on day 11 of her hunger strike right outside your door and won’t eat until you speak with her? WHAT? And was posting about Meals On Wheels, two food posts on a day of protest, all over the world, in support of said chief’s hunger strike and against this government’s disgusting policies, intentional Mr Harper? This is just fucking INSULTING.

December 5, 2012

Re: That Protest I Told You About

1. Chiefs take fight to House of Commons’ doorstep

2. Colonial mentality continues with omnibus bills

“It all comes down to the difference between settlers and colonists,

Tootoosis said.

“A settler acknowledges themselves as a settler, and a colonist continues to support the regime of colonization, or is happy in the arrogance and the ignorance of the colonized processes that still exist to this day.

3. Harper Launches Major First Nations Termination Plan: As Negotiating Tables Legitimize Canada’s Colonialism

On September 4th the Harper government clearly signaled its intention to:


1) Focus all its efforts to assimilate First Nations into the existing federal and provincial orders of government of Canada;


2) Terminate the constitutionally protected and internationally recognized Inherent, Aboriginal and Treaty rights of First Nations.


Termination in this context means the ending of First Nations pre-existing sovereign status through federal coercion of First Nations into Land Claims and Self-Government Final Agreements that convert First Nations into municipalities, their reserves into fee simple lands and extinguishment of their Inherent, Aboriginal and Treaty Rights.

TL;DR The Harper government’s latest omnibus bill, C-45, proposes massive changes to the Indian Act, which would violate Inherent, Aboriginal and Treaty Rights, made without consulting the First Nations leaders who would never have agreed to these changes because they royally fuck their people over. These changes are basically the government, yet again, trying to assimilate the Natives into white Canada. Actually, there’s probably no “basically” about it. The Harper government is absolutely disgusting and already people are talking about blockades and protests and throwing around words like “Oka“. And there is still little to no media coverage of any of it.

Posted at 4:43 pm in: Canada , Politics , winter
December 4, 2012

Nirvana is the cure for everything.

In my last post I forgot to mention that yesterday I started watching Twin Peaks on Netflix. (Did I already mention we got Netflix because Blake got a wireless internet thing for the Blu Ray player for Xmas? Netflix is AWESOME.) I don’t even know what to think of this show. When I was in grade maybe 6 or whatever, my friend Heather’s mom used to rent us movies in exchange for babysitting her brother and she rented us the Twin Peaks movie (Fire Walk With Me) and we were like “what the fuck is this?” Luckily I don’t remember anything about it but the midget from Agent Cooper’s dream talking gibberish so it’ll be a surprise when I watch it after I’m done watching the show but yeah…I just finished the first episode of season 2 and it’s pretty clear that they had absolutely no idea what they were doing and they were completely making shit up as they went along, it’s pretty entertaining. I don’t even know how it’s all going to end or if I’m even going to like it when it does, but I think Agent Dale Cooper is probably one of TV’s greatest characters. I look forward to every scene he’s in and I TOTALLY did not even recognize the actor who plays him, whose last name I can’t spell, until Blake pointed it out to me and I had to laugh because all I’ve ever seen him in is romantic comedies and not even good ones. But in Twin Peaks he’s so good!

God I love TV. Truly. Good TV is one of the best things in life. I only even realized Netflix had Twin Peaks in its entirety when I was looking for I Dream of Jeanie, which they had in its entirety when we signed up last week but it’s not there anymore and I didn’t even get to see one episode. (I’ve seen a million I Dream of Jeanie episodes, of course, but not in probably 25 years and watching it in reruns was one of the high points of my childhood.) So I guess Netflix changes their selection every month? I don’t really know how it works.

While watching Twin Peaks I edited the pictures Madison took last night at my class and the ones I took of Wes and the pets this morning on Charlie’s advice that I should take pictures every day and that I should take pictures of the kids before they leave for school just as something to shoot. I took an awesome picture of Madison giving me the finger this morning while she was on the phone but she forbid me to post it because she said she looked fat (she didn’t). Maybe she’ll let me post it in 10 years.

Anyway, here are the pics Madison took of my extremely photogenic friend Alex:

Despite the fact that there were two strobes in soft boxes in front of her on either side and Blake holding a reflector to her left, I had to lighten all of these pics in Lightroom because there just wasn’t enough light.

Blake looking dumb. As per usual. :oP

This is probably the best pic of Wes that’s ever been taken.


Although this one’s pretty fucking cute…

I’m going to frame this one for us & send a copy to Blake’s mom for Xmas.
Actually, I need to do that by the end of this week: get my shit together and upload the pics I want printed to the Black’s website so they’re ready for Xmas.

This is the pic of Wes I took this morning.
The light in our living room is glaringly tungsten so I had to correct it in Lightroom.
The kid looked jaundiced.


Lucky watching the construction workers.

Pixel’s getting used to me shoving the camera in her face.
Or at least she doesn’t seem as perturbed by it.

These pics were exposure corrected.
Despite taking them at ISO fucking 3200, they were still pretty dark.
I’m slowly becoming a Lightroom pro.

This is Hoover at the back door, which is in my office.
The black part on the right is the dreadmill.
The light in here are those horrible compact fluorescents so the light’s this godawful greeny yellow and I had to fix it in Lightroom by adding blue and magenta. When these bulbs finally blow (it’s been like, 2 years, they should go soon) I’m going to get Blake to get LED ones.

Then Lucky wanted out too so I stopped taking pictures and let them out.

Charlie got me a flash for Xmas but I haven’t tried to use it yet because I’m not entirely sure how to attach it to the camera or what to do with it once I figure that out. All Andre’s really told us is to bounce flashes off other stuff, like white ceilings and walls and never use direct flash unless you’re shooting outside and you want to fill in shadows because the natural daylight will diffuse the flash so it’s not so harsh.

Anyway, I’m going to RTFM and figure it out, I was just waiting for batteries to charge so I could play with it. I think now I officially have every piece of gear I’m going to need in the foreseeable future. A wide-angle lens would be nice to have but in all practicality I can’t really think of what I’d use it for. I’m not really one for being in places where group photos are taken or around big buildings, although some of the ones in town are super old and might be worth photographing if I ever left my house. But already my super duper special photography backpack weighs a million tons and there’s no room for anything else so I think I’m good.

Something I thought of for “signs of life” is taking my macro lens to the beach on Sunday. I bet there’s lots of signs of life in magnified sand. Little shells, human shrapnel like beer caps and bread ties. Then I could use my 50mm for other stiff, like signs and people. Andre says to never change your lens on a beach because you’re going to get dirt on your sensor but I figure if it’s been raining it’s probably okay because sand won’t really be blowing around and that’ll be the case on Sunday when Blake and I can go to the beach to shoot. Or if that’s a bad idea I can always change lenses in the car. I just can’t think of anywhere else to find signs of life in December. Especially not when I live in a construction zone and they’ve practically scorched and salted the earth.

Speaking of which, the curbs are in and they’ve repaved the road so all they really have left to do is fill in the trenches between the curbs and the sidewalks. They were doing something really noisy earlier, which is why I’m even writing this post (I couldn’t hear the TV), but I’m not sure what. It *looked* like they were actually cutting the asphalt with some sort of saw on wheels but I have no idea why they’d be doing that. They cut a line from in front of my neighbour’s house past where I could see out the window. They’re working on the other half of the bridge now, but they’ve got two lanes going across so it’s not as bad as it was a couple of weeks ago.

I know, this is all RIVETING news.

Know what IS news though that totally isn’t being reported in the Canadian media at the moment? 600 First Nations chiefs are currently protesting on Parliament Hill and so far it’s only being talked about on Twitter. You would think this would be, I dunno, NEWSWORTHY. I mean, I’d certainly like to know what they’re protesting about exactly. So far all I’ve been able to ascertain is that the Harper government’s budget bill that’s either being passed today or being passed soon infringes on First Nations treaty rights and they’re pretty fucking pissed off about it. This may not be news right now, but according to the word on the street, so to speak, it will be soon and this is just the beginning. So far the only “media” coverage I’ve been able to find on it is one reporter on Twitter who works for Sun Media. This protest was rumoured to happen for a while now apparently and they’ve been at Parliament Hill for over 2 hours at this point, so why is this not being reported? The mind boggles.

Okay I think the construction guys are done being obnoxious so I’m going to watch a couple of more Twin peaks episodes before the kids get home. Peace oot.

November 7, 2012

No Time To Think of Consequences

Today I have to go through my external hard drive and delete a bunch of RAW files to make room for this week’s photography assignment. Realistically I don’t need the RAW files for the dice & fire pics from last week so I’ll probably just ditch those and call it a day.

I wanted to stay up last night to watch Obama win his second term, which I knew he would because Mitt Romney’s a putz, but I went to bed at about 10pm after realizing that it was going to be like, 1am at least before everything was sorted out and I had to be up this morning for work. I woke up every hour on the hour like it was Xmas Eve, waiting for it to be 4am so I could wake up for good and see who won. I didn’t even have to turn on CNN because my Facebook feed made the results pretty evident. Ya did good USA. Weed legal on CO? I didn’t even know that was on the ballot, that’s pretty awesome. The USA’s first openly gay senator? Also awesome. Gay marriage a-okay in a bunch of states? Super awesome. Yep, ya did good.

Anyway, I don’t have a whole lot to write about right now, really. On Sunday we went and saw Cloud Atlas and liked it so much that I bought the book the same day and all I’ve been doing since Monday morning is reading. The book, of course, is more fleshed out than the movie (so far), and is worth reading if you liked the movie. Blake’s listening to the audiobook in the car on his commute. I don’t know how far in he is though; I’m about halfway through.

Monday night was photography class. Some of you wanted to know what the other people in the class did for the assignment and nothing was really that interesting. The one lady shot in RAW for the first time but didn’t know how to convert her files so they couldn’t be read by the projector. She didn’t say what she had done. Another guy took pictures of one of those uh…okay it’s like a moving statue of a figure (in this case a cactus person) made of parachute material and it has a big fan at the bottom so inflates and its body and arms flap in the wind. Does that make ANY sense? It was at a car dealership. They’re really tall and businesses use them for promotional purposes. Anyway that’s what he used for freezing motion. He tried to use moving cars to get blur but he was doing it in broad daylight so it didn’t work. The only other person who did it used a creek for both freezing the action and blur. You’ve seen these kind of blur pictures, where the water looks all smooth and gassy.

Alex wasn’t in class because she was at a concert for a band called Group Sex or something like that.

This week’s class was on depth of field and again, I didn’t do the lab. Everyone gets in the way (we were all supposed to take pictures of a row of pumpkins at various distances and apertures) and I already know about depth of field because I learned the hard way so I just stood back and let the class have at it. I’m not saying I’m a master of my lenses or anything even remotely close to that, I’m just saying that these people were all – very seriously, with tripods and everything – taking pictures of these pumpkins to learn about depth of field and I knew the point of the exercise so I just didn’t bother. Especially because Andre took pictures during this time too and I knew he was going to put them up on the projector and explain them anyway. There was no reason to take RAW + JPG (which is how I shoot in class so things can be pulled up on the projector but I have the option of tweaking them in Lightroom later even though I never do) of these pumpkins that I was just going to have to delete anyway. This makes me wonder though, if I go to college for photography, will that be optional? Can I just learn the technique by lecture, get the assignment and do it? Hrm.

So this week there was two assignments, one of which has two parts, and we can do either/or.

The first one is “Seeing Pictures in Everyday Stuff”, which is self explanatory. He suggests doing close ups or using a macro lens, which is probably what I’m going to do since I’ve still only used that lens twice.

The second one is an aperture assignment: Controlling Depth of Field.

“Photograph a subject of your choice twice as follows:

1. Isolate your subject from its background with shallow depth of field.

2. Include your subject’s surroundings with lots of depth of field.”

Easy enough, pending the weather co-operates (which it’s supposed to) and Madison’s willing to be my guinea pig. I’m terrible at taking pictures on purpose where the face is in focus but the background is blurry because I still don’t know this 50mm lens very well. I think maybe it’ll be easier with manual focus though? And f/1.4 is way too shallow for a close up facial portrait  so I guess I would try f/2.8 first.

Hey I just thought of something! For last week’s “freezing the action” assignment, I should have done the kids on the swings. Duh.

Also the pictures Andre showed us in class this week were a lot better than the ones he’d shown us previously. Maybe he didn’t want to intimidate anyone by showing really good pictures in the beginning or something. He also showed us a jewelry catalogue where he photographed everything too (although I just looked at the cover).

Oh and I also learned that when/if I ever get a light setup, I want tungsten halogen bulbs.

Anyway, that’s photography class.

This afternoon I have a work meeting but other than that, all I plan on doing is reading Cloud Atlas because I really am having a hard time putting it down even though I know more or less what’s going to happen.

Soooo that’s what I’m gonna go do. :o)

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