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This web is where I weave my wacky.

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Entries from November 1, 2009 - November 30, 2009

Friday
Nov202009

Divided by a Common Language - Getting emotional

 

 

Being unemployed, I sit around at home a lot with the news channels on.

I was shocked by King County Prosecutor Dan Satterberg’s press conference detailing the charges against a Mr Monfort, who had killed a Police Officer in Seattle, Washington.  Although he started well, praising the Police Officers for their bravery and the public for help in finding the alleged killer, I think he used too much emotive language describing the charges.

Please don’t think that I am in any way siding with Mr Monfort, or that I don’t think that the murder of Officer Brenton was a tragic event.  

I just think that the Prosecutor has an ethical responsibility to leave emotive language out of a press statement, especially one before a trial.  I simply cannot see how a jury can be selected that isn’t prejudiced after this press conference.

I have copied, for contrast, the transcript of a Scotland Yard press conference held after a terrorist bomb attack in London.

I have underlined what I consider to be overemotional language in both press statements.

 

EXTRACTS FROM SATTERBERG’S PRESS CONFERENCE

Today we have charged Christopher Monfort with 5 separate criminal charges:

  • 1 count of aggravated first degree murder for the murder of Officer Brenton
  • 1 count of attempted first degree murder for his attack on Officer Sweeney
  • 1 count of arson in the first degree and attempted first degree murder for his attack and his booby trap that he laid at the Charles Street facility, and
  • 1 count of attempted first degree murder for trying to kill Sgt Nelson on the day of his arrest.

If convicted of aggravated first degree murder – the murder of Office Brenton – the defendant faces one of two possible penalties:

  • Life in prison, without possibility of release, or
  • The death penalty.

...

Today our public peace officers can take a deep breath and relax – just a bit – before they put on their uniforms and go about serving the citizens of this community.

Today the friends and family of Officer Brenton can properly mourn their loss, knowing that other Officers are not at risk from a known assassin

...

In the end, dedicated Police Investigators, working as a team with the citizens they serve, were able to put an end to the defendant’s war on law enforcement.

...

Our charges today allege that Christopher Monfort is responsible for planning and executing a one man war against the Seattle Police Dept.  The evidence that we will ultimately present at trial will show that Monfort is responsible for a series of attacks aimed at the Seattle Police Dept, resulting in the murder of a dedicated Police Officer, and the attempted murder of other officers.

First we allege that, in the early morning of October 22nd, Monfort broke into the City of Seattle Vehicle Maintenance Yard (located on Charles Street, just South of this building) and, inside that lot, Monfort stared a fire in a Seattle Police Mobile Precinct Vehicle – one of those large vehicles that was parked at that scene.

But Monfort’s goal was not simply to cause property damage.  He had placed a number of home made bombs under nearby patrol cars that were fused to explode after the Mobile Precinct Vehicle caught on fire.   The initial fire was deliberately to lure the first responders in to fight that fire within the range of those bombs that were set underneath the gas tanks of nearby patrol cars.  The intent was clearly to kill those officers and first responders.  

We allege that Monfort’s intent to kill at the Charles Street Maintenance Yard is made even more clear by several notes that he left at the scene.  In these notes that Monfort left near the fire – so that investigators would find later – he declared that, quote, “these deaths” were the result of his anger over acts of Police brutality.   And he further warned the Police that they, quote, “better get ready to attend a lot more Police funerals,” unquote.

His anger towards Police was punctuated by a large hunting knife, with an American flag fixed to the handle, which was plunged through the roof of a patrol car.

Second we allege that, just nine days later, Monfort fulfilled his threats to kill with a much simpler and more cold-blooded attack.  At approximately 9:45 on Halloween night, Monfort sat in his 1980 Datsun 210 hatchback, watching and waiting for Officer Timothy Brenton and Trainee Officer Britt Sweeney to finish conducting a routine traffic stop.  He continued to watch and wait as the officers parked their car at 29th and Yesler.  Unaware that they were being stalked, Officer Brenton went about the business of a diligent field training officer, teaching Officer Sweeney the art of good policing. 

We allege that Monfort then drove his car up to the driver’s side of the marked Seattle Police Officer Patrol Vehicle, and immediately opened fire with a high powered rifle.   From just a few feet away, he shot directly at the Officers, killing Officer Brenton immediately, and wounding Officer Sweeney. 

And with the same cold precision with which he approached his victims, Monfort reversed his car, to turn around in a nearby driveway.   But, before he sped from the scene, we allege that he dropped an American Flag bandana out the window.  The same calling card that he had left at the Charles Street scene.

Finally, as the Memorial Service for Officer Brenton was underway at Key Arena on the afternoon of November 6th, we allege that Monfort was making plans for yet another showdown with Police.  His Tuckwila apartment was stockpiled with at least three high powered rifles, including the one used to kill Officer Brenton.  Also, he had a pistol grip shotgun and hundreds of rounds of ammunition, and numerous explosive devices. 

His arsenal of weapons suggested both that he was ready to continue his attacks, and that he was preparing to make a final armed stand should he be discovered.  As most of their colleagues were honoring Officer Brenton at Key Arena that afternoon, three members of the Seattle Police Dept – two Sergeants and a Detective – were outside of Monfort’s apartment in unmarked Police cars.  They’d received a tip from a concerned citizen who had recognized that Monfort’s 1980 Datsun V210 was now covered by a tarp, and that it resembled the car that Police were looking for in connection with the Halloween murders. 

When Monfort left his second floor unit, the plainclothes Officers identified themselves and asked to speak with him.  Monfort started to run towards his apartment, simultaneously turning and producing a handgun.  He ducked into a stairwell.  As one of the Officers, Detective Sgt Gary Nelson, ran after him, Monfort aimed his gun directly at Sgt Nelson and pulled the trigger. 

The gun did not fire.

It was fully loaded, but Monfort had apparently failed to chamber a round, and this oversight saved the life of the pursuing Police Officer, who was standing only a few feet away. 

Monfort ran further, this time chambering a round into his handgun.  He ran directly to his apartment, where guns, home made bombs, grenades, barricades and booby traps were strategically placed and ready. 

But, just before Monfort could reach his apartment door, Officers caught up to him.  Again he pulled his handgun and turned to fire – but Officers fired first, dropping Monfort just steps from his apartment.

Monfort was hit in the stomach and in the face.  He is currently in a stable condition in the hospital, and is expected to recover to face these charges. 

Investigative Officers later searched the defendant’s apartment.  Not only did they find several guns, including the high powered rifle used to murder Officer Brenton, but they found a number of home made bombs, and bomb making material – an intent to kill. 

Police discovered a bomb with a fuse connected to the kitchen stove, ready to explode at the turn of a dial.  They also found hand grenade-type bombs, built with very short fuses, filled with nails and wire, that could be lit and thrown at Officers. 

They also discovered a wall of automobile tires stacked near the entrance of the apartment.  These were mounted on rims, clearly designed to act as a barricade and as a bunker for an impending standoff. 

The evidence that’s outlined in the Certificate for Determination of Probable Cause that supports these charges today sets forth in even greater detail the fruits of this extraordinary investigation.  These details include a ballistics match between the rifle found at the Monfort apartment and the slugs recovered from the murder scene of Officer Brenton.  The details also describe a DNA profile match.  A match between Monfort’s profile, DNA found off the American flag bandana and the American flag left hanging at the Charles Street bombing. 

 

 

SCOTLAND YARD PRESS CONFERENCE

Press conference 25 July, 14:50

Deputy Assistant Commissioner Peter Clarke, Metropolitan Police Service Anti-Terrorist Branch said: 

"A few days ago we made a public appeal. The appeal was for help in identifying the four men we needed to urgently trace in connection with the attempts to set off four bombs on the transport system in London, last Thursday the 21st July. 

We still want to question them about the incidents at the Oval, Shepherd's Bush and Warren Street underground stations, and on a Route 26 bus in Hackney Road, at the junction with Colombia Road. 

I can tell you that since Thursday there have been developments in the investigation. 

I hope that by setting out some of what we have been able to learn over the past few days, the public may be able to contribute even more to the progress of the investigation. 

Three of the men we wish to trace all entered Stockwell underground station just before 12.25pm, last Thursday, 21st July 2005. 

The first man got onto a Northern line northbound train and shortly afterwards attempted to set off a bomb between Stockwell and Oval stations. The train stopped at Oval station and he was then chased from the station by extraordinarily brave members of the public who tried to detain him. He left the Oval station at about 12.35pm and ran along Brixton Road, towards Brixton. He went into Normandy Road, Cowley Road, Gosling Way, where at the junction with Mostyn Gardens, he threw away his top with the New York logo. He then went into Cancell Road, Frederick Crescent and Langton Road. He was last seen at a quarter to one in Tindall Street. 

The second man also went into Stockwell underground station. He was seen walking towards the platforms. We know that at 12.53 he got on a number 26 Bus in the Bank area of the City. He was carrying a grey & black rucksack and sat on a seat towards the back of the bus with the bag next to him. He too tried to set off a bomb. He got off the bus in Hackney Road at about five past one. 

We now believe the man on the bus who attempted to set off the bomb to be: 

Muktar SAID-IBRAHIM, also known as Muktar Mohammed-Said. We believe he was associated with, and has recently visited, 58 Curtis House in Ladderswood Way, London, N11. He is 27 years old and today I am also releasing another photograph of this man. 

As I speak we are currently searching a number of addresses in London including 58 Curtis House. 

A third man entered Stockwell underground station at the same time as the others with a small purple rucksack. He tried to set off a bomb on a northbound Victoria line train between Oxford Circus and Warren Street underground stations. Shortly afterwards, at about 12.40pm he was seen without the rucksack in Warren Street station. He then left the booking hall by vaulting over the ticket barrier and running towards the exit. We believe this man to be Yasin Hassan OMAR. He is 24 years-old. 

A fourth man involved in this series of attacks entered Westbourne Park underground station just after 12.20pm last Thursday. He was wearing a dark blue baseball cap and carrying a small rucksack. He then got on a train travelling towards Shepherds Bush. A short while later he too tried to set off a bomb. He then got off the train, probably by climbing through a window at the end of the carriage. He then made his way along the track for about two to three hundred yards, before climbing down into back gardens and making good his escape. He went along McFarlane Road, past the BBC building in Wood Lane, and was last seen running under the A40. 

Initial forensic examination of the four partially detonated devices has revealed clear similarities with yet another bomb which was found by a member of the public on Saturday 23rd July. This had apparently been abandoned in an open area at Little Wormwood Scrubs, in west London. 

All five of these bombs had been placed inside dark coloured rucksacks or sports bags. All of them were made using the same type of plastic food storage container. These were manufactured in India, and are exported through one company into this country and then sold in approximately 100 outlets across the United Kingdom. The type we are interested in is this six and a quarter litre sized container with a white plastic lid. It has a label describing it as a "Delta 6250 with Lid", and also has another coloured label with the description "Family Containers, Delta, Superior Quality." Please note that we are only interested in the white lid variety. They are also produced in other colours. 

My appeal is to any shop keepers and shop workers who may have sold five or more of these identical food containers in recent months, perhaps to the same customer. Do you remember selling a number of these white topped containers at the same time? Do you remember selling them to men you perhaps recognise from the CCTV images we have released?

I would appeal to anyone who has information about where these men currently are should immediately call 999 for an emergency urgent police response. The public should not approach them. 

Anyone who believes they know the identities of these men, or has any other information about them or their movements should contact the confidential Anti-Terrorist Hotline on XXX XXXXX."

 

Friday
Nov202009

I'm jus' saying - MyTwitFace

 

 

Was Jesus the world's first social networker?

I'm jus' sayin'.

 

 

Thursday
Nov192009

I'm jus' sayin' - Swine Flu

 

 

If you are on the toilet, blow your nose in toilet tissue, then fold it over and wipe your patootie, can you get Swine Flu?

I'm jus' sayin'...

Wednesday
Nov182009

I'm jus' sayin' - Hack! Hack! Yank! Yank!

 

Hacking away at ivy and then pulling the long strands off the wall while cussing up a blue storm is very, very satisfying.

I'm jus' sayin'.

Wednesday
Nov182009

Dear Diary - I love you, Donald Mills, you Crabby Old Fart

Dear Diary
 
As you know, I love to read other people's blogs as much as I like to write mine.
 
One of my favorites is "Crabby Old Fart: The Problem with Young People Today is..." written my Mr Donald Mills.  He doesn't like young people and who, dear Diary, can blame him?
 
Recently he created a brochure for old people to help them if they have a scary encounter with a younger person.  Having experienced the utterly revolting "youf" on London buses, I see where he is coming from.
 
His post is here.
 
I had to reply to him, dear Diary.  Or, put it this way, he inspired me.
 
Here's what I had to say:

Dear Donald

I have another suggestion for you.

I suspect that one thing a Teenage Hooligan detests is someone of la troisieme age who tries to be “hip” and talk to them.

The key is therefore to attempt to engage them in conversation while repelling them at the same time.

Teenagers think they are so cool with their “code” of slang, and the last thing they want is anyone over 25 participating.

1) Try butchering the modern vernacular:

“Hey dood wassuuuuuuuuuup?” (the key here is to draw out the “up” part as long as possible, preferably till you start coughing). I’m feeling totally bangin’ and I’m gonna bee-arch ma tude. You gonna gangsta that gettin’ jiggy with it?”

2) Even more effective is dated vernacular:

“Hello young champ. You look like a hip cat. Been to any good discos lately?”

“Yo your outfit is far out! Hey can you give me the skinny on where a man can get down and boogie in this town? Or can I get some honeys by hanging at yo crib?”

“Yo funkadelic! You groovy baby and jive turkey today? Or you just mondo cool with yo moofy?”

3) Most effective – misuse of modern and dated vernacular:

“Backatcha! You are to the max digging those threads. You bitchin’ a bogart dudet with the freaky deaky and cut the cheese? Catch my drift? Totally sick, dude!”

“Hey dude! You gonna up hit up the holla? You peeps the phat (pronounced “fat”) po po (that’s as in Edgar Allen Poe, not poo as in poop) in the man? Cos (as in because) I pardy hardy peace out! Go pimpin!”

Oh, and I’d also recommend pepper spray.

Best of luck.

ittybittycrazy.com

 
Wednesday
Nov182009

Puppy Talk - The Hungry Box

 

 

Puppy Girl:  What's going on?

Puppy Dog:  What now?

Puppy Girl:  Mama just opened the white box and all the hairless ape food bowls don't have food on them anymore!  I was licking them last night when Mama was putting food bowls in there, and it was yummy!

Puppy Dog:  You mustn't lick the food bowls that go in the white box!

Puppy Girl:  Why not?

Puppy Dog:  The white box is a monster!  It has to be fed every few days.  Mama and Dada feed it their left overs and then it makes a growly noise and all the hairless ape food bowls come out clean.

Puppy Girl:  It's a monster?

Puppy Dog:  Yes, like the Dysonmonster.

Puppy Girl:  But I want to lick the food bowls.

Puppy Dog:  You do that at your own risk.  One time, I was licking the food bowls and the monster closed it's flap all of a sudden and bonked me on the chin!  It hurt!  Mama said sorry, but it wasn't her fault.

Puppy Girl:  Wow...

Puppy Dog:  Yeah.  I was very brave, of course, because I'm a big boy.  So just stay away, puppy!

Puppy Girl:  I don't like all these monster in our house. 

Puppy Dog:  Yeah, I don't either.  But they come with the hairless apes, and they have the food.

Puppy Girl:  Yeah, and they scratch you behind the ears.

Puppy Dog:  Oh, yeeeeeah.

Wednesday
Nov182009

Puppy Talk - Missing out

 

 

Puppy Girl: [Hooooooowl]

Puppy Dog:  Why are you crying this time?

Puppy Girl:  [Sob]

Puppy Dog:  Come on.  You heard Mama.  It's Relaxy Time for puppies.  You have to stay in your crate and have a nap or chew your little toy.

Puppy Girl:  But... [Sniff!]  I can hear things...

Puppy Dog:  Of course you can hear things!  What are you talking about?

Puppy Girl:  I can hear things going on, and they're going on without meeeeeee  [Sob]

Puppy Dog:  Oh for Dog's sake!  There will always be things that go on without you.  Hairless apes do all sorts of strange things that don't include us.

Puppy Girl:  It's not fair.  [Sob]

Puppy Dog:  Would it make you feel better if I told you what Mama was doing?

Puppy Girl:  Oh.. [Sniff] OK.

Puppy Dog:  Mama carried these big teeth things out into the yard and took some moving steps with her.  

Puppy Girl:  Teeth things?  

Puppy Dog:  Yes, they were biting the plants, so they must be teeth.  Don't interrupt!

Puppy Girl: [Sniff]

Puppy Dog:  She climbed up on the moving steps and started to make the big teeth bite the ivy.

Puppy Girl: Weeeeeeeird.

Puppy Dog:  I know.  She wanted the ivy to die.

Puppy Girl:  Die?  Why?  I like to poop in the ivy!  She mustn't kill the ivy!

Puppy Dog:  Reeeeee-laaaax yourself to a panic, girl!  It was the ivy on the fence, not on the ground.  Anyway, she kept saying 'Die Bah Stud.'

Puppy Girl:  What's a Bah Stud?

Puppy Dog:  I don't know.  Maybe there were little animals called Bah Studs in the ivy.

Puppy Girl:  Come on.  We dogs are born with a knowledge of all plants.  I've never heard of Bah Studs.

Puppy Dog:  Well, Mama comes from a place far away.  Maybe they have a different name for bugs.

Puppy Girl:  Yeah, Mama's a ferner.

Puppy Dog:  Anyway, that's all you missed.  No big deal.

Puppy Girl:  NO BIG DEAL!  I missed out on seeing what a Bah Stud is!  [Hoooooooowl]

Puppy Dog:  Oh my Dog.  I'm going to my bed.  You're on your own.

 

 

 

Tuesday
Nov172009

Quote Unquote - Mr Obama

 

Except from "By the People - The Election of Barack Obama"

January 2, 2008.  Night before the Iowa Caucus.

Barack: "Michelle and I had a really interesting conversation and she said, uh, 'We're not doing this again.'

And at first I thought she just meant - well, you know what? - I'm never home, and it's hard on the family.

And she meant a little bit of that, but what she really meant was, you know, the reason that it is important for us to do it now, the reason that it's better for us to do it now than later, is 'we're still almost normal.'

Which I loved.  It was a great line. 

[Pointing to Michelle] I attribute it to you.  It was a good line.

And what she meant was - you know what? - five years ago, six years ago, we had just finished paying off our student loans---"

 

Michelle: "Three years ago, what do you mean?"

 

Barack: "Well, I was actually five or six. 

We were still living in a condo.  It was a little bit too small for the kids, for our growing family.  Uh... We still had credit card debt, we were trying to figure out how to save for college for the girls and save for our retirement. 

I mean, the point is, is that we've gone through what people are going through right now relatively recently.  We don't forget it. 

And so, when I go into the White House, I will be carrying your voices with me. 

What it comes down to is, who do you trust?

And - you know - I think that, uh, if you trust me, then I think I'll deliver for you.

All right, I'm gonna go to bed!"

 

Whether you agree with his politics or not, I really do find it refreshing to have someone in the White House who is close to my age, facing the same financial issues I am (he earns $400 000 as President - a lot less than CEOs of large companies), who remembers what it is like to struggle, to worry, to strive to get educated.

There is no way, if I had met Mr Bush socially and he weren't President, that we would have moved in the same social circles.

The Obamas feel like a couple that I might meet at a friend's BBQ.

And I like that.

 

Tuesday
Nov172009

I'm jus' sayin' - Interview

 

 

The interview question you don't want to hear when you've been unemployed for 6 months:

"Why haven't you been snapped up already?"

 

I'm jus' sayin'

 


Tuesday
Nov172009

Dear Diary - Good morning?

 

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I had lunch with a good friend.  Like us, she and her husband have two dogs.  She was telling me about how much her dogs like routine, and how theirs worked.

She gets up in the morning at 6am, walks the dogs for 15 minutes, feeds them, then gets ready for work and is out of the house to go to work by 7:15.  She said that the walk in the morning gets her blood going and wakes her up, which sounded like a really good idea to me.

Well, Puppy Girl wakes us at 6am anyway, so I decided to give it a try.  I got up at 6am, let the dogs out for potty, brushed my teeth, got dressed, caught Puppy Girl so I could get her harness on her (she hates it), tried to get Puppy Dog to calm down and stop bouncing when he saw his leash, and finally got out of the front door.

Puppy Dog is on an extendable leash, and Puppy Girl on a thin nylon normal one.  He doesn't like her first thing in the morning - who would like a baby jumping all over them nipping their ears before they'd had breakfast? - so I have to keep them apart.  She can't differentiate his play growls from his I-am-going-to-bite-you-if-you-don't-stop-it-NOW growls.

So she spent the entire walk pulling at the harness, whimpering, trying to get to her brother.

We walked for about five minutes before I realized I had made a mistake not putting my gloves on.  I wrestled one from my pocket, held both leashes in one hand, and wrangled a glove on.  Puppy Dog immediately decided to squat and have his morning ablutions, so there I was, two dogs straining at the leads, taking the glove off again, shining the little torch on my keyring on an neighbor's bush, trying to find the poop and scoop it.

On we went.  Puppy Girl strained against the leash all the way around the three blocks, and I became concerned that she was learning the wrong thing about going for a walk - pulling.  No better time to deconstruct bad behavior and replace it with good behavior than right now with a puppy, so I put Puppy Dog back in the house and took Puppy Girl out for another walk, with treats in my pocket, trying to get her to walk at my side.

Giving her treats with gloves on was a mistake.  She thought it was a new biting game.  We got halfway up the block with her jumping up at my side, trying to nip my gloves.  Then she saw another dog coming down the street and started barking her head off.  I turned back and went home.

I put Puppy Girl in her crate - after I managed to catch her - when we got home, and fed Puppy Dog, then put her breakfast in her crate.  She wasn't interested, and kept barking and whining.

I figured maybe she needed potty - she had only peed on our walk - so I took her outside.  But all she wanted to do was play. 

I got her back inside, herded her back into the crate, suffered the crying (you have to ignore it) till she ate.

Thank God.

Potty time again.  She ran straight to her potty place (yay!), and peed.  I knew she must need to poop by now, so tried to get her to do it.  Nope.  She barked and barked.  I was confused. 

And then I saw it.  She had obviously pooped first thing this morning - outside the enclosure - and I had stepped in it.

I scooped it, then got the hose to clean off the bottom of my shoes.  Of course the water got into my socks.  I squelched my way inside, seriously contemplating a cup of tea laced with whiskey.

It was 7am and yes, dear Diary, my blood was pumping.  But I didn't feel awake.

I felt exhausted.

 

Tuesday
Nov172009

Puppy Talk - The Pack Heirarchy

 

 

Puppy Girl:  Why does Mama say "Sh!" everytime I bark?  I'm a DOG.  I'm supposed to bark!

Puppy Dog:  Don't exaggerate.  She doesn't do it every time.

Puppy Girl:  Well she does it every time I bark at her from my potty enclosure!

Puppy Dog:  Exactly.  There are times when it's OK to bark, and times when it isn't.  That's one of the times it isn't.  I mean, come on, she's standing right in front of you!  You don't have to shout.

Puppy Girl:  Yeah... but how else am I supposed to tell her that I want to get out?  I tell her, I say: I want OUT! I want OUT!

Puppy Dog:  Yeah, you don't get to shout demands at Mama.  I don't think you're quite getting the pack hierarchy.

Puppy Girl:  Pack what?  That's a very big word...

Puppy Dog:  Hierarchy.  See, this is how it goes.  Dada is the Alpha Dog.  Mama is the Beta Bitch.  I am the Gamma Guy.  And you are the Delta Doggie.

Puppy Girl:  What?!

Puppy Dog:  Dada is first, the most important and the pack leader.  Mama is second.  I am third.  You are last.  You don't get to decide anything.

Puppy Girl:  AW, COME ON!

Puppy Dog:  That's how it works.

Puppy Girl:  That is just, wrong.  I'm the cutest one...

Puppy Dog:  OK, I'm just going to pin you down, now, till you get it.

 

Monday
Nov162009

I'm jus' sayin' - The nose knows

 

 

Picking your nose can feel really satisfying sometimes.

I'm jus' sayin'.

Monday
Nov162009

Health is Wealth - Gym + other people = less pain

 

 So the other day I am catching up on email and I have daytime TV on.  Some doctor show is explaining a new liposuction technique, and this gets me thinking about my 1441 goal.

Puppy Girl has just gone to sleep in her crate and I head for the shower.  Suddenly a crazy thought jumps into my head:  Why not go to the gym for a short workout?

Before I can find a way to justify laziness (i.e. before my brain can fully engage), I am in the car and on my way.

As per usual, there are gymstractions that make the whole thing bearable.  

I love watching other people at the gym.  You can't feel the pain if you are constantly distracted by the strange goings-on around you.

First, there was the big nipple lady in the changing room.  I know that it's not the done thing to look at other people naked in the changing room (unless, of course, you are gay, in which case who can blame you?), but I swear to God these nipples were yelling at me.  If the woman had spoken to me, I would have struggled to look up into her eyes.

The woman in question was tall and thin, and no bigger than a B cup.  But her nipples had dummies (pacifiers) hanging off the end of them.  Are you detecting a note of jealousy?  Yeah, you're spot on.  Mine are like those tiny headache capsules.

I have only seen such deliciously suckable things on one other person, and she had the pale, soft, pendulous melons to go with them.  It just seemed like a strange paradox, a skinny, flattish woman with this pink things sticking out and inch in front of her.  

Anyway, after staring while trying not to look like I was staring, I finally got my trainers on and headed down to the machines.

 

First thing I saw, as I scanned the room, was a lady sitting on one of the reclining bikes in one of those padded winter coats, with the fur lined hood up.  The gym felt like it had a perfect indoor temperature to me and, once I was moving on the eliptical for 2 minutes, I started to warm up.  So why was this woman bundled up?

I began to wonder if she had a cold.  If she did, she really shouldn't have been at the gym spreading her germs.  I resolved to confront her if she sniffed or or sneezed.  She did neither... and so robbed me of my Jerry Springer moment.

Bitch.  

It wasn't long before more entertainment came along... the Chatty Cathy twins.  I don't know why, but there is one personal trainer who just seems to have clients who won't shut up for more than thirty seconds at a time.  

The last guy we saw her with was channeling James Joyce and going on and on with a personal monologue.  These two women that she was training didn't even need her to nod and make mmm-hmm noises - they just talked to each other.  They paused, chatting, as they got off the eliptical trainers, with the poor personal trainer trying to lead them to another area of the gym for their next exercise.  Every transition to a new exercise took twice as long as it should, and the complaining!  You would've thought they were being waterboarded.

Yak yak yakety yak.

I was sorry I hadn't brought my iPod.

When I got to the ab/stretching mats, I got my final bit of entertainment for the day.  Another personal trainer had a brand new client, and he obviously had hip problems.  The trainer was having him roll back and forth on a hard foam roller to massage his muscles with his own body weight.  He was biting his lip in pain, poor man.

 

"Just one more roll, back and forth!" the trainer kept saying.

"Yeah, OK, that's - uh - powerful," he said, clearly relieved it was over.

"OK!  GREAT!" the trainer squeaked.  "Now the other side!"

 

I'm sure he was wondering why he was actually paying a small blonde woman to torture him.

But here's the point of all this...

I WENT TO THE GYM!

BY MYSELF!

WITH NO PERSONAL TRAINING APPOINTMENT!

OK, so I haven't been since, and that was last week, but it still counts, right?

 

Sunday
Nov152009

Travel/Bucket List - The Grand Canyon

 

This post is in the Travel category, but also tagged for Bucket List.

The Bucket List is a list of things I want to do/feel I should do before I die.  I've done some of them already, and I'm telling one of those stories here.  To see the whole list, click here.

 

Ah, the Grand Canyon.  One of the most amazing sights in the world and something everyone should see, in person, at least once in their lives.

I'd really like to go back there as an adult, and here's why...

I was 11 and my parents took me along on their grand tour of the US.  40 cities in 30 days - or, at least, that's what it felt like.

We were in Vegas, and we went to some small airport to take a flight over the Grand Canyon.  I had never been to a small airport before and I thought it was a bit weird.  I felt unsettled, and it didn't get any better when we got onto the plane.

It was a small plane.  

I started getting nervous.

They arranged us in the cabin to distribute the weight so, being the only child on the trip, I was alone at the back of the plane.  

The next thing that I remember about is that we were on the plane, flying over the Canyon, and it was raining.  My mother was a few row in front of me, and my father in the front row, so there was no comfort or reassurance. 

Status raised from nervous to scared. 

The plane was going up and down as we flew through air pressure changes.  Then the woman in front of me started to throw up.  It smelled and sounded awful.

Status raised from scared to terrified. 

I remember at one point my father looked back and gestured to me that I should look out of the window at the view.  I tried, but I was really too busy embracing my Catholic upbringing by that point and praying vociferously.  

I did look out of the little porthole window eventually, and I saw clouds, a rock thing sticking up and mist.  Even at 11 years old I knew that I could go home and look up pictures of the Grand Canyon in a book somewhere (the internet wasn't an option in South Africa back then - we actually went to the library) so I chose to just close my eyes and reassure myself with a self-made countdown to the whole thing being over.

"It must only be twenty minutes till we land.  I can handle twenty minutes."

"I'm sure we'll be on the ground in fifteen minutes.  That's a tiny amount of time.  Fifteen minutes..."

And so, although I have officially seen the Grand Canyon, and I've ticked it off on my Bucket List, I need to go again.

Preferably on a nice, sunny day.

Sunday
Nov152009

I'm jus' sayin' - Happy

 

 

I'm not sure I should be this ecstatic about getting Puppy Girl to poop in her potty place in the yard this evening.

How priorities change in life!

I'm jus' sayin'

Sunday
Nov152009

He Said She Said - Unnecessary anxiety

 

 

"Oh my GOD!" she yelled.

"What?" he said.

"Puppy Girl's going gray!  She's gone gray overnight!" 

"Don't be silly," he said.  "She's 13 weeks old!"

"She has gray around her eyes!  Like gray eyebrows... Look!"

"She probably brushed against something," he said.

"It's around both eyes," she squealed.

"Honey, there must be a reas---"

"Oh my GOD!" she laughed!  "It's YOGHURT!"

"It's wha---"

"I gave her the empty yoghurt container to lick!  She must've shoved her whole head in there and got it on her face!"

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't panic," he said.

"Oh shut up!" she snapped.  "Hold her till I get back with some damp Bounty to wipe it off."

 

Sunday
Nov152009

Quote Unquote - Because Daddy says so

 

 

Fluffy Bear to Puppy Girl:

 

"My den, MY rules!"

 

Yep, he really said that to our dog.  Not that we anthropomorphize our furkids or anything...

Saturday
Nov142009

Dear Diary - To blog, or not to blog?

Dear Diary,

My online friend, Snooty Primadona, asked herself - and all of us - why we blog.

And, as they say, she got me to thinkin'.

Why do I blog?

I think it's because, deep down, I'm a creative person, and that creativity has always expressed itself through writing.

Languages, and the way people express themselves using them, has been an endless source of fascination for me.  When I was a kid at school, English was my favorite subject, closely followed by French and Afrikaans.  

The fact that people chose to assign gender to nouns interests me.  La table is feminine, whereas le chien (dog) is not.  

The fact that you have to say no twice in Afrikaans interests me too.  They use a double negative.  Ek het dit nie gese nie (I didn't say it).  

How people expressed themselves through words - the art of prose - was something I grew to love.  Dickens' humor, Shakespeare's prose-poetry and Judy Blume somehow getting into my head and helping me work through the difficult parts of being a teenager.

The more I read, the more I realized that writing can be as much about working through things for yourself as about telling stories.  I never had a diary as a kid - I'd start one and then not take the time to keep doing entries - but I wrote a book when I was about 12.  It's somewhere in my stored stuff.  I seem to remember it has something to do with a boy and my transformation when my braces came off.

After High School, when studying English at University became about analyzing the writing of others, I never wrote creatively for years.  I guess I didn't need to.  I was having fun growing up, getting out into the world, travelling.

But then I got into the corporate machine.

I was working in a large company, dealing head on with a matrixed hierarchy, 15 hour days, business travel, working on weekends, useless meetings, yearly goal-setting and reviews and a curve on which my team-mates and I were graded for bonuses so we were effectively in competition with each other to get our projects noticed by our managers.  Bureaucracy and office politics seemed to stifle any creative or artistic thought.  

Even emotions had to be regulated - one had to appear enthusiastic and be PC at all times, no matter what you were feeling or what was going on in your life.  This was particularly difficult for me after I had major surgery and went back to the office too early.  Consequently, I was labelled "a bad fit" and my work life became even more restricted.

It was all looking a bit bleak, dear Diary, until my therapist suggested I find a way to write again.

I'm not the kind of person who can set up a story outline, develop characters and have the self-discipline to produce a novel.  I admire the people who do.  My creativity comes to me in little bursts: observations, jokes and the need to vent.

And so, the blog.

And that, dear Diary, answers the question.

 

 

 

Saturday
Nov142009

That's life - Headache! Headache! Get thee behind me headache!

With apologies to all the vampire, werewolves and highlanders that were around back when Shakespearean English was spoken and for whom this will no doubt be painful to their ears.
 
 
Ode to my headache

Foul headache, thy villain, from whence comst thou?
 
Comst though from the pillow which my neck badly cock'd?
 
Comst thou from hayfever which my sinus block'd?
 
Comst thou from the workout which my muscles knott'd?
  
Or comst thou from the vino which ere night I quaffed?
 
I care not thy origin, vile pain, foul ache
 
Only that you immediately your leave take.

Friday
Nov132009

Post-its of wrath - The basement bossanova

 

These post-its are not real.  I love my husband.  Seriously.

 

Dear Fluffy Bear

Let me tell you about my day.

Because you are on a business trip, I decided to get all the washing done so the machines are free for your stuff when you get home.  I went down into the basement, carrying the basket of dirty clothes.

I tripped on the second to last step, luckily landing on a soft pile of smelly clothes which tipped out in front me.

But my toe was bleeding.

So I hobbled over to the first aid kit we keep down there for a band aid, and I hit my head on that low beam.

I found a band aid through my tears, and went over to pick up the spilled clothes and put them in the washing machine.  I poured the washing liquid into the measuring thingy and then put it in the machine and then, because I was crying, I wiped my eye.

I soon progressed from crying to howling.

This scared the dogs upstairs, who started barking.

The mailman who hates the dogs came then and yelled how much he hated us at our front door, throwing the mail on the front porch.

I tried to wash out my eye in the basin and hit the other side of my head on that big faucet we have in there.

I finally made it upstairs and made myself a liquid lunch of a glass of wine.  The nice wine you've been saving.  It was the only white wine in the house.  

Too bad.

 

OK, OK, none of this actually happened.

But it could have.

So change the basement light bulb!

 

To read more in Post-its of Wrath, click here.