Wordless Wednesday

Am Proud

Am also sick at home today.  It has been nearly two weeks with this chest infection and I believe I am relapsing.

I called in dead this morning.

My cousin Geoff ran his ass off  last night.. today... what time is it in Korea again? and has made it to the men's 1500 metre semifinal at the 2011 IAAF World Track and Field Championships in Daegu, South Korea.

You can read about his qualifying heat at CBC's site.

You can watch him run on September 01.  If I have done the conversion right (Daegu is 15 hours ahead), he will be running at 4.55 am Mountain time or 7.55 pm, local time.  If I've done the conversion wrong, complain to Lord Google that you want your money back.

(totally ripped off the Internets)

If you don't try to win you might as well hold the Olympics in somebody's back yard. ~ Jesse Owens

This Music Snob Is Officially Justified

Know your enemy.  Exploit their weaknesses.

More often than not, I want to punch the music industry in the balls.  If it had any.

Gone are the days when an artist got an entire album to “experiment” with their sound (ya, I’m looking at you Bryan Adams, while I hold a copy of Into the Fire).  If today’s music industry was flourishing 50 years ago, there would be no Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Tom Waits, Joni Mitchell, or Bob Dylan; artists who shaped generations of real singer/song writer/musicians.  By today’s standards, they would have been considered ugly, visually unappealing, and unmarketable.

Think about that every time you hear the guitar being played by Kurt Cobain.  Think about that every time you hear Ella, Etta, Miles, and Dizzy.

Recently, Adele said, “I make music for the ears, not the eyes.”  It is a sad day when a singer/song writer has to point that out.  And it shows us exactly where the music industry has led us.  Can we blame MTV?  Back in the day, yes.  But now?  Not so much.  Those fuckers don’t even play music videos any more.

Which brings me to the MTV VMA’s.  How can a station that does not air music videos any more continue to have a yearly music video award show?  Perhaps it is just me and one of those things, but I cannot connect the dots here.

What I can do is exploit the shit out of it.  Twitter style.  Cos that’s how the kids roll, yo.


I cannot watch the VMA's on MTV Canada.  I can, however, watch them on MuchMusic, MTV's competition. #overwhelminglyironic

Jersey Shore.  Suck my donkey balls.  Why are we still watching these twats over-dose on spray tan? #dumbasswannabes

Selena Gomez and Demi Levato are BFF’s?  Awkward body language and my Spidey senses say otherwise. #disneyrehabproject

Yes, Selena, they are “Cobra Star Shit”.  Talentless vag odor.  Not that vag odor has a talent.  Just saying. #vomitinmypocket

Seth Grogan, it wasn’t just a “long, weird walk.”  It was a long, weird walk down a plastic intestine. #constipated

Taylor Lautner.  Gaydar ping. #taylorswiftwasyourbeard

Nicki Minaj.  Say whaaaaaa? #hellokittywantshershitback

Foo Fighters.  Hallelujah! #thankyoubuddha

More Jersey Shore.  Excuse me while I void my bowels. #uselesscunts

Stop abusing me with these losers that star on your  crap reality shows. Dear Jebus, GIVE ME GAGA! #preshowmakesmestabby

LMFAO. Shufflebot? #fuckoff

It’s Britney, bitch.  She’s looking positively well medicated. #weaveisundercontrol

30 Seconds From Mars.  Time’s up, Jared Leto. You are a pretentious bitch and will always be Jordan Catalano. #mysowannabelife

Katy Perry.  I just can’t.  Hard work recognized?  Get your husband to take a shower and maybe we will have something. #stinkycheesedick

OMFG, Baby Jay Z Beysuz in the oven!!!! #thesecondcomingisimminent

Brit Brit doesn’t get Gaga’s Joe. #iwannabesedated

Gaga, Brian May.  Uh huh. #freddiemercurylives

"Whatever.  You don’t know me or my parents.” Kevin Hart, I’m hijacking that. #sassybitch

Jonah Hill.  Nicki Minaj.  #notfunny

Jay Z.  Kanye.  #mydiamondsareinthesky

Beibs, I know you don’t “get” Jay and Kanye, but respect, you stupid fucking bitch. #usherisyourbeard

Jack Black, I love you and your sexy break dancing ways. #iheartthismutha

Is it just me or does the performance stage look like a lady hole? #vajayjay

Add another name to the shame fuck list… Pitbull.  And you, Neyo, sir, you are going on the freebie five. #quiveringladybits

Katie Holmes.  Clueless. #iamanalien

Adele.  Am.  Breathless.  Her voice is simply amazing.  Lovely.  Just got a lady boner.  How adorable is she?  #girlcrush

Chris Brown.  Sit down, son.  Kanye, don’t just stand there, rush that fucker. #unrepentantwomanhaterandwomanbeater

If someone doesn’t shut that Jessie J bitch up soon, Imma get homicidal. #shhhhhhh

Britney Tribute?  Where?  Didn't someone say Miss Jackson was gonna sing "Slave 4 U"???  #suckdonkeyballs

Will Baby JayBey come into the world with a wind machine of their own? #unclekanyerawks

WTF is hanging out of Katy Perry’s head?  Is she wearing a brick of cheese in that pink rat’s nest? #stupiddumbembarrasmentwasteoftime

What is that botox nightmare sitting next to Kardashian?  Is that a shemale? #doesitmatterwhichkardashiansheis

What is a Tyler the Creator? #whoisthisnutsack

Young the Giant?  Will show up for your show, will bring 250 of their friends from back home.  To be on stage.  With them. #coswecan

Cloris Leachman has no fucking clue where she is or who she’s with.  Or maybe she just doesn't want to admit it.  Would you?  #awesomesauce

Tony and Amy.  Body and Soul.  #legacy

Bruno Mars.  I certainly would.  Even with that high top hair. #youcancallmevalerie

Katie Holmes. STFD, STFU. #whyareyouevenhere

Drake.  Uhhhhh.  I'll say your name, say your name, and wear you out. #iwanttowearyourcardigan

Lil Wayne. #anothershamefuck


I think Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters said it best: "I just want to say: Never lose faith in real rock and roll music, you know what I mean?  Never lose faith in that.  You might have to look a little harder, but it's always going to be there."

#amen

Shameless Plug

My cousin Geoff is here running his arse off, with hopes of competing next year at the 2012 Olympics in London.

You can check Geoff's blog out as he chronicles his training and races.

I ran and ran and ran every day, and I acquired this sense of determination, this sense of spirit that I would never, never give up, no matter what else happened. ~ Wilma Rudolph

Free At Last

The West Memphis Three are finally free.  You can go here to get caught up.

Why does this case matter to you?  We live in a fucked up world where your civil liberties can evaporate in seconds, where someone can point the finger at you and implicate you for something you did not do, and where innocent until proven guilty is a steaming pile of bullshit.  Ever found yourself in trouble with the law but were completely innocent?  I have.  Innocent until proven guilty is one of the biggest lies ever foisted upon our society by our alleged justice system.  Even if you are innocent, even if you can prove it in a court of law, it will take you years and thousands upon thousands of dollars to do so.  I imagine this would be an even more complex situation if you are incarcerated while all of the finger pointing and allegations are occurring.

The reality is this: you do not have civil liberties.  What you do have is the illusion of freedom and justice for all.  Be mindful of the fact that those who grant you your alleged rights and freedoms have no qualms whatsoever about taking those things away and will do so at their own leisure, regardless of what you think your rights and freedoms are.

Wake up.  Watch your back.

Club 40 At The Cactus Club Cafe

A few weeks ago I reached a major milestone.  Club 40.  Believe me, no on is more surprised about it than me.

Allegedly, there was a surprise party planned.  I call bullshit.  I hate surprise parties.  Hate them.  Like the kind of hate reserved for your most loathed enemy hate.  If you know anything about me, if you have any shred of compassion for me, you will NEVER throw me a surprise ANYTHING.  They never work out.  Never.  Inevitably, you have to pretend you are happy to be there and happy you were surprised.  You end up shaking hands and hugging people you cannot stand the sight of but they are there because the organizers thought their attendance was a good idea.  There will be activities that make you want to stab your eyes out or that make full grown men kick the shit out of each other because someone does not know the rules or cannot keep score/count while drinking warm beer.  Food that passes for a dog's lunch will be served.  The music will be provided by someone who has a hard on for 90's boy bands and American Idol and you will eventually want to give your ears the ol' Van Gogh just to make the noise stop.

Those are just some of the issues you face at one of these things.  And if you don't squeeeeee and give it some jumpy claps, you will be labeled an ungrateful bitch by the organizers.  No thanks, not ever.

Thanks, but I'll take my pain in other places.  Do not organize a surprise anything for me and I will not dropkick you in the crotch after a good old fashioned curb stomping.  Deal?  I am not usually prone to violence, but this surprise party business could potentially cause me to lose what is left of my sense of rational and cut a bitch wide open.  Failing that, remember, I like to be creative when plotting vengeance.  Oh, I can bring the wrath, bitches.

One ought to be able to do their favorite things on their birthday.  And this year, I did exactly that...eating, geeking, and humping.

In an effort to be low key and still have a bit of fun, Mr. I.T. took me to the Cactus Club Cafe at West Edmonton Mall.

Oh yum.  Oh my effing yummy yum.  If you have not yet been, you have to go.  Rob Feenie, Canada's only Iron Chef, has created a menu that is splentastic.

I had the blackened creole chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus.  Seriously, this has to be some of the best chicken I have ever eaten...

The portion of chicken was HUGE.  I gave Mr. I.T. about a quarter of it because I could not finish it.  Neither of us could finish the mashed potatoes because I am sure the kitchen was mistaken and sent out an order for five on my one plate.  The asparagus was done to perfection and if you are going to eat chicken at the Cactus Club, throw yourself at this!

Mr. I.T. had the garden burger with a side seasonal greens salad.  When he ordered it, I had my reservations.  Mostly because when you order a vegetarian burger, you are usually served an oat-laden piece of cardboard with red pepper accents, but also because Mr. I.T. is an impossibly fussy eater.  IMPOSSIBLY fussy.  When this came...

... I had a wee taste.  If you had not told me the burger was vegetarian, I would have swore it was beef.  The patty had substance, it was juicy and well seasoned.  The entire burger looked like a real burger...

... not one of those alfalfa sprout laden, tofurky wearing veggie burgers you are used to seeing.  And can we just have a moment to celebrate the salad?  Spinach, romaine, that stuff that looks like dandelions, a vinaigrette to die for, and shaved carrots and beets being chased around by slivers of almonds.  It was the first but not the last orgasm of the night.

When you go, make sure you make a reservation.  We went on a Wednesday night at 5.00 and were out of there by 6.10.  When we left, there was a line up out the door and half down the block.

Much later, in an effort to remind me how important creativity is, how important it is to expand one's mind, how I need to be doing the things I love to do, Mr. I.T. parked me here and here.  Thank you for reminding me about me and how I am my best natural resource.  He is, admittedly, not the most romantic man on the face of the planet, but that had to be the best gift a person could give me.

I would tell you about the humping but Mr. I.T. and I have an public embargo on that.  If I had not been strictly forbidden, I would tell you that, when later discussing some of the judgey bitches at The Office, he reminded me that interracial couples are sexy and people would be searching for us on porn before them.  Allegedly.

*Note*  All photos used in this post are not even a little bit mine.  Totally hijacked from the Internet.  Because I forgot my camera.  Which is uber not cool when one wants to blog about what they ate.  Am.  Blonde.

Not My Chair, Not My Problem. That's What I Say.

Cass, thanks for the gift that keeps giving.

Seahorses.  Foreva!