burlesquesque?

if something is kind of burlesque but not quite, is it burlesquesque? apparently one can do something burlesquely, so maybe this is a stretch.

i wish it wasn't, but...

...this is the very least in easy.

aw, come on guys!

tonight i visited a pub that didn't serve whisky-- what fucking pussies.

erection ( i mean election) day

HEY. tomorrow is votey vote vote day (aka election day) in Canada. so VOTE, motherfuckers. they will not refuse you. if you don't have something with a current address on it, you can even take someone to vouch for you. just go and vote, anything but conservative. i'll leave it at that-- just reminding your ass.

20/80 is only good for bread, not lives?

feeling sorry oneself only gets one so far. so do rice cooked for an hour and a half that you still can't digest. it's a toss up: between doing the 80%/20% rule of eating and giving up a stupid amount of the already very-limited foods i had left and not drinking (not even whisky). my sadness cracked me last night and i jerked myself off the very new and shiny wagon to eat a veggie bacon and sauerkraut sandwich, dressed in liberal amounts of ketchup (there ain't no other kinds) and mayo. the preparation made me feel slightly better. got prepped to go to gus's and all of a sudden i wasn't high. and i had to talk to people, and they were drunk. but i'm not drinking. and another point reiterated tonight-- the nites you don't drink, these are the nites people want to buy you drinks. and when i'm sober, i can't talk to people. i'm no good. but for some reason i'm trying. nothing is interesting, i'm passionate about nothing. i have no skills. i walked home alone, with my hood up wondering what the fuck happened, yet i remembered it so clearly. it was unnecessarily and inexplicably twilight zoney. and tonight may also prove to be the same. the music was exactly what i needed, tho, other than something way more dark and appropriate like, um, norwegian black metal.

mary poppins deer roof hoppins'

a guest post by sweetness

standing out side smoking on bean's deck.
1 rotten squash
2 broken vases
3 burns in the 60 yards of old carpet
4 legged pissed on trampoline
5 faded happy face lights
6 pounds of vegan crap burned onto the barbeque grill
7 boards stuck into the soles of my boots with nails
8 dead whores
9 inches of standing room
10 airborne std's
this is what i witnessed

boring but good lunch inspires two haikus

emily and i fucked off work in the early afternoon for a "business lunch" where we actually waxed poetical on a bevy of off-topics, including the restaurant (a familiar) where we were eating.

two simultaneous, impromptu haikus:

you make the same food
every god-damned fucking day;
sometimes i like it.

it is always the same.
cold food. hot food:
it is the same.
and it costs too much.

thanks to the eating hole with whom we have such a love-hate relationship, and to the boy who gave us a free muffin (the last one) because we liked to smell it.

i fucking love onions!

...perhaps most because they don't make me sick but also, because they're a delicious, delicious food and even also because it prevents sickness and cures many ills and is a handy food to use for magick.

have any random onion queries?

what's that?

whut?

whut?

How many pounds of fresh and storage type onions does the average American eat per year?

19 pounds.

How many truck loads of onions are consumed each day?

Nearly 380 semi-truck loads.

What country boasts the highest per capita consumption of onions?

Libya, with 66.8 pounds of onions consumed per person each year.

How many calories are in a serving of onions?

30 calories.

How many onion farmers are there in the United States?

About 1,000.

According to an old English Rhyme, the thickness of an onion skin can help predict what?

The severity of the winter. Thin skins mean a mild winter is coming while thick skins indicate a rough winter ahead.

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, how much did the largest onion ever grown weigh?

10 pounds 14 ounces. It was grown by
V. Throup of Silsden, England.

In what famous story was the Seven-of-Spades threatened to be beheaded for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions?

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.

* my period thanks the national (american) onion association for knowing about and growing us lots of fine onions (but buy local).

touch your vagina!

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styro-hate-a-ma-foam

soon before maven left, we spent a day around town. as our journey was nearing its end, we passed through scotia square and felt like getting something to eat. our first stop was in front of the indian spot. there were no samosas, they had no soymilk for a lassi and i didn't want to waste styrofoam on curry, so i opted for nought. maven ended up enjoying his first ray's falafel. when he asked for water, he got it-- but in a piece of squinchy white pixellated permanance, aka: styrofoam. we were seriously frustrated. we were pissed because we had no choice, it'd already been used/wasted.
in a flash of eager enlightenment, i remembered the sushi place at the end of the hall, so maven relocated closeby while i ordered an avocado roll from the woman inside. she asked if i wanted it for here or to go and i said i didn't care as long as i didn't get styrofoam. so i got it in fucking styrofoam. it was excrutiatingly difficult to enjoy what would normally be such a fresh, luscious treat when i was forced to waste styrofoam, as part of a team, for the second time in one day. i seethed all thu my meal, trying desperately to forget, to etch this in my memory, to at least learn a lesson to be more clear or to never set foot in a mall again.
i hate styrofoam so fucking much and i've hated it for years. i'll be unreasonable. i'll be petulant. i'll be unnecessarily bitchy if i'm about to consume something potentially great, but won't let myself if it's going to be served in or on the timeless white malevolent container. i'm not being pretentious or intentionally difficult-- i hate it for good reason:

-Americans throw away 25,000,000,000 styrofoam coffee cups every year (and we Canadians produce more garbage per capita than do they).
-when it's "recycled," it is not a closed loop — polystyrene cups and other packaging materials are usually recycled into fillers in other plastics, or other items that can not be themselves recycled and are thrown away.
-McDonald's stopped using styrofoam years ago at the outcry of concerned students (it must be evil if the evilest of mcevil's won't touch it).
-styrofoam is actually outlawed in many US states (again, E-VIL!) -it will never decompose. a plastic container will decompose in 50-80 years, a glass bottle in 500 years if you give it time-- but bitchyass polystyrene will kick around for fucking ever.
-toxins leak into the food that styrofoam contains. this can reak havoc on our health.
-it's made from petroleum-- a non-renewable, heavily polluting, quickly disappearing, war-starting "resource."
-as it never decomposes and doesn't always get disposed of properly, styrofoam is a hideous piece of trash that will never leave, it is available for wildlife to choke on or otherwise swallow, therefore clogging animal digestive systems as well as waterways.
-the recycling of styrofoam is thought to be a public relations stunt, as it is technically recyclable, yet only in major centres
-there's only one polystyrene recycling facility in canada (in mississauga) yet even neighbouring toronto asks its residents to throw polystyrene in the garbage.
-styrofoam is ugly and it has a disgusting squeaky sound and mouthfeel.

the only potentially redeeming qualities of styrofoam are:
-styrofoam cups are produced using six times less energy than paper cups (but paper cups are biodegradable).
-cd jewel cases are made from polystyrene, but at least we tend to keep them around (and use the best ones after our other ones crack and essentially become TRASH.

in conclusion, i think the only cool thing to ever be made of styrofoam is this lovely piece by Giuseppe Gabellone, and it is pretty, but i still despise polystyrene (and of course, this piece of art is social commentary).

everything's coming up...

...something.

morbid reality bettered by pickled beets

being alive is such a morbid reality, but simpler to endure with a good feed of warm mashed vegetables, some homemade pickled beets and the second season of golden girls.