Will the gnome roam to Nome or Rome?

I am happy to report my new travelling companion is cute, looks good in red, and is up for just about anything.

I am less enthusiastic to note said companion is a 203-year-old gnome named Cedric with a fondness for homemade brew and a pronounced dislike of cats.

A Christmas present, Cedric came with explicit instructions that I must:

1. Take him wherever I go.
2. Photograph him.
3. Blog about his travels.

Cedric's maiden trip was a holiday jaunt to Sharbot Lake, Ontario, where he got a taste of country air and deftly avoided being eaten by a wolverine.

I suspect Cedric is a bit of a ladies gnome. He was in town scant hours before making the acquaintance of an unidentified female gnome (a century or so his senior) who hails from a small Dutch village.

And to think I was counting on him to be my wingman.

The New Year Lift

Harmony and I were discussing what to wear to the New Year's Eve party that we will be attending together.

Dwarfie, who overheard us, responded with, "Something that shows leg and cleavage." The Chair seconded Dwarfie's comment with a naughty chuckle and an affirmative shake of the head.

"Well, my dress is short and low cut," I responded, "but I don't know how to make my girls peek over the balcony..."

"The right bra will do the trick," Harmony informed me.

Harmony was correct. At a trendy brassiere shop in the Rideau Centre, a young salesperson, knowledgeable in the art of cleavage, explained to me that it was all about memory foam (I thought she said mammary foam).

"No one comes about it naturally and size is not important," she reassured me as she eyed my bosom. She handed me two different bras, and I was impressed to see that the bras featured over one inch of foam at the base and sides of the cups.

"All the better to push things up," she chirped encouragingly.

*I wont' show my bra versus bra-less look - that's already been done in quite the lovely way by one of the ESI's favourite bloggers.

Breaking News: Homeslice is in the Dictionary

The correct definition of "homeslice" is now in the Urban Dictionary.

What you need to do now is go to the Dictionary and click on the "thumbs up" icon to vote for that definition and click on the thumbs-down for all the other definitions.

You may be inclined to support the definition currently at #8:

A complimentary term of endearment often used when sending well wishes.

Goodnight homeslice, I hope you have pleasant dreams.

However, there are two problems with this definition of "homeslice".

1. It could be used for anyone, a child, an aunt, a colleague, and not just a conjugal partner.
2. The word "complimentary" and the phrase "often used when sending well wishes" are redundant.

[Previous post in which I solve the girlfriend/partner/significant other problem.]

12 Google Resolutions for 2009

Last year I resolved to be more creative and stop relying on Google for my artistic inspiration. That didn't work out; so this year I went to Google for a dozen fresh resolutions.

In 2009:

1. I won’t be 100 percent wrong
2. I won’t be out there to lie down for him
3. I won't spend all my R&D on a meaningless pet project that fails to appeal to anybody when I could have been making videogames the whole time
   
4. I won’t create more waste
5. I won't be signing up for this challenge again
6. I won’t buy yarn except on days that begin with S
7. I won’t be as involved with Parkville WILDFIRE as I have been previously
8. I won’t have a 360-degree role anymore
9. I won’t promote my articles bar Tweeting them once
10. I won't be voting for him no matter whom he's running against
11. I won't watch GH anymore
12. I won't be surprised
    

Merry Christmas to all…

…and to all a good night…

Workout Wednesday

The Oranjestad Edition

And the Winner is...

Last week I asked you if you preferred oatmeal or tank tops. As of early this morning the results of the poll indicate a tie - 19 votes for each. So today, you get a picture of Woodsy in a tank top with a bowl of oatmeal. For those who had issues with last week's oatmeal, this week it is plain oatmeal with milk and maple syrup.

Nursemyra, since you showed me yours, I am now showing you mine. That's my little snowman. He's always this happy when presented with a bowl of oatmeal.

Wishing you all a lovely whatever it is you celebrate at this time of year, and a happy 2009!

Beaded Black Lace Tank Top
A top that I like to think Édith Piaf would have worn

RNDP 20: Closer to a Unified Theory - Prestige

Dating scholars continue to expand our knowledge of the dynamics involved in two humans hooking up. This week, Jeffrey K. Snyder, Lee A. Kirkpatrick, and H. Clark Barrett learned that young women at two universities expressed preferences for men described as prestigious over men described as acting in a dominating way off a sports field.

Women prefer prestige over dominance in mates

Dominance preferred only among male-male competitions

Los Angeles, CA – December 17, 2008 – A new study in the journal Personal Relationships reveals that women prefer mates who are recognized by their peers for their skills, abilities, and achievements, while not preferring men who use coercive tactics to subordinate their rivals. Indeed, women found dominance strategies of the latter type to be attractive primarily when men used them in the context of male-male athletic competitions.

Jeffrey K. Snyder, Lee A. Kirkpatrick, and H. Clark Barrett conducted three studies with college women at two U.S. universities. Participants evaluated hypothetical potential mates described in written vignettes. The studies were designed to examine the respective effects of men's dominance and prestige on women's assessments of men.

Women are sensitive to the context in which men display domineering behaviors when they evaluate men as potential mates. For example, the traits and behaviors that women found attractive in athletic competitions were unattractive to women when men displayed the same traits and behaviors in interpersonal contexts. Notably, when considering prospective partners for long-term relationships, women's preferences for dominance decrease, and their preferences for prestige increase.

"These findings directly contradict the dating advice of some pop psychologists who advise men to be aggressive in their social interactions. Women most likely avoid dominant men as long-term romantic partners because a dominant man may also be domineering in the household." the authors conclude. [EurekAlert]

I expect Snyder, Kirkpatrick and Barrett have requested further funding to find out who the women actually go out with. Unless they plan to first investigate whether women express a preference for prestigious men over funny guys.

The Joyous Season

It's around this time of year that one begins to reflect on what's important about the season.

Especially since the economy's gone fer shit, and overblown excesses of recent Christmases past are unlikely to fill one's heart to overflowing with synthetic joy.

We coyotes, of course, have always eschewed the season's cheesier aspects. Not for us the fake trees, questionable mall muzak, greed or expensive electronic gimcrackery. It was never really likely, but now the tenor of the times makes it even more improbable that we'd need to agonize about how to cram 80-inch HDTV screens into our 75-inch wide burrows, on the principle that it would be insensitive to return such a caring gift on Boxing Day... I digress. Habitually.

So we coyotes wish to state that what we do wholeheartedly stand for are the important things that should fill one's life all year round. Doing interesting things that don't involve a lot of money. Tolerance, respect and acceptance for one's fellow creatures. And dwarfs. Connecting with family and friends. Phone calls, cards and letters to the important ones that aren't near. Because Facebook and Twitter so do not count. Or regularly sharing meals and hoisting hot or cold beverages and yakking late into the night with the ones that are. Laughing. Engaging. Living.

Now, excuse me. It's time to set the self timer on the ol' camera and snap my annual Christmas card portrait. And given the grim tenor of the times, it's important to get it exactly right...

A vexing vortex

This test, passed to me by The Sage Scribe, is very brief with only one question. But it's a very important one, especially considering the news of the past month. By giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand morally.

The test features an unlikely, completely fictional situation in which you will have to make a decision. Remember that your answer needs to be honest, yet spontaneous. Please read slowly and give due consideration to each line.

THE SITUATION:

You are in Ottawa. There is chaos all around you caused by a huge mid-December storm with severe flooding. This is a flood of biblical proportions. You are a photo-journalist working for a major Canadian newspaper, and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster. The situation is nearly hopeless. You're trying to shoot career-making photos.

There are houses and people swirling around you, some disappearing into the water of the Ottawa River. Nature is unleashing all of its destructive fury.

THE TEST:

Suddenly, you see four men in the water. They are fighting for their lives, trying not to be taken down with the debris. You move closer ... Somehow, the men look familiar ...

You suddenly realize who they are ... It's Stephen Harper, Stephane Dion, Jack Layton, and Gilles Duceppe!

You notice that the raging waters are about to take them under forever. You have two options: You can save lives or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize-winning photo, documenting the death of the country's most powerful men at possibly one of Canada's most important historical moments!

THE QUESTION:

Here's the question, and please give an honest answer ...

Would you select high contrast colour film, or would you go with the classic simplicity of black and white?

Tank Top Tuesday Poll

A couple of weeks ago, Skylark suggested that I conduct a poll between oatmeal and tank tops. Being that I am a great fan of his blog, I will oblige him...

Oatmeal

Tank Top

Do you prefer oatmeal or tank tops?
	Oatmeal
	Tank tops
Free polls from Pollhost.com

RNDP 19: Dating Schema and Spectacular Efforts

In my quest for the RNDP, I not only googled the search phrase "dating paradigm", I also googled "dating schema".

If you are unfamiliar with the academic term "schema", you are in luck because the first hit for "dating schema" is an article titled "Schema Theory (drawn from D’Andrade 1995)" that expains the term and includes an excerpt on dating to help explain it.

Dorothy Holland and Debra Skinner (1987) studied the US undergraduate dating schema. They describe the "taken-for-granted world of male/female relations" from the perspective of a female undergraduate as follows:

"… a male earns the admiration and affection of a female by treating her well. Intimacy is a result of this process. The female allows herself to become emotionally closer, perhaps as a friend, perhaps as a lover, perhaps as a fiancee, to those attractive males who make a sufficient effort to win her affection. Besides closeness and intimacy, the process of forming a relationship also has to do with prestige. When a male is attracted to a female and tries to earn her affection by good treatment, her attractiveness is validated and she gains prestige in her social group. For his part, the male gains prestige among his peers when he receives admiration and affection from and gains intimacy with females.

Normally, prestigious males are attracted to and establish close relations with prestigious females, and vice versa. Sometimes, however, a male can succeed in winning the affection of a female whose prestige is higher than his own. However, the more attractive she is, the more he must compensate for his lack of prestige by spectacular efforts to treat her well. Correspondingly, females sometimes do form close relationships with males who have higher prestige than they do. When the male is more attractive or has higher prestige than the female, she often must compensate by giving her affection to him without his doing anything to earn it." (1987:101-102)

Within this simplified and idealized world, one set of problematic males is termed jerks, nerds, turkeys, and asses. These are men who are undesirable and don’t know it. They are unattractive (physically or otherwise) and don’t or can’t make up for it with higher cost gifts and other exchange items. Furthermore, they are too dumb to "take a hint," and therefore have to be rejected in such direct ways that the women have to be repeatedly unpleasant, which is stressful for the women. To understand what one of these college women means when she calls a man a jerk we need to understand the (women’s) dating schema.

Experts

I have just spent several hours watching videos from Expert Village. If you are wanting to blow a couple of hours this evening, go ahead --- enjoy!!!
I have to admit, this "expert" freaked me out a bit.

Why are airports so boring?

IO's note: This was written Thursday but I had trouble posting it because I was, er, stuck in an airport.

I am stuck in an airport. That's a bad thing. Airports are like the bland yet evil automatons that populate sci-fi movies. Veritable zombies of the travel world. They are pretty much all alike: devoid of personality, soulless and vaguely annoying. (An exception is the colourful Morun airport in northern Mongolia, which features a billiard table, sandstorms and squat toilets.)

But it doesn't have to be so. Here are five ways to improve airports:

1. More comfortable seats. What is it with these bench-like things with stubby armrests and nowhere to put your beverage?

2. Cheaper prices. The airport is like some former Soviet republic where inflation is always running at 483 per cent.

3. An Internet cafe. What better place for one?

4. A craft co-op. Why not a spot where the vibrant, cool art and handmade goods produced in our city can be displayed and sold?

5. A giant aquarium. Travelling can be stressful. Watching seahorses cavort and tropical fish glide through the water is a good way to relax. They are the smart ones, choosing to swim rather than fly.

The feeling of dreams

We millenia-old semi-mythical dog types spend a lot of time weaving through dreams, the subconscious and the unconscious. It's in the job description. So, when, a couple of days ago, Japanese scientists announced that they'd taken tentative steps to 'read' images in people's brains and display them, I raised an eyebrow. The mechanics involve a lot of big expensive, cool science-y stuff, described in science-y language, but there's a slightly simpler translation here.

The commentary I've seen so far is along the lines of "Cool! In ten years I can show my friends my dreams! In Technicolor®™!"

Does anybody else feel alarmed?

Until now, we coyotes assumed that our thoughts and dreams were very private things, unless we ourselves chose to describe them to somebody else. Considering some of the things I've thought, that's a comfort. Because the idea that others might see them leads my thoughts down a very dark Orwellian alley. Coyote's 116th Law states if such a tool exists, somebody, somewhere, will find a way to misuse it, probably in the name of something like, oh, homeland security. The corollary to Coyote's 116th Law is that such equipment will eventually be consumerized, be manufactured in quantity and then fall into the hands of officious masses of un- or under-trained idiots who think they know what they're doing, simply because they're packing the gear and had a half-day workshop. Think airport security screeners. Or Tasers.

You may also be thinking that the paranoid doggy dreams of imaginary monsters under his bed, but that leads to my point. My dreams are mine, and you very probably can't understand them unless you are me. I don't know what you dream, of a night, when your paws scrabble as if you're chasing bunnies across a pristine prairie, but I'm not convinced that somebody else peeking in on the complicated swirl of oddly dis/un/connected images that is a dream is gonna interpret it with any reliability. I have trouble articulating it because of the nature of dreams themselves, but I suspect that they are far more about individual background, context and feeling than about a fragmentary movie playing on a voyeur's monitor. Without the associated feelings the movie is really out of focus. I also suspect that any equipment freak who thinks he can parse 'em in anything other than the crudest way can dream on. In Technicolor®™.

Breaking News. . .

Major transit strike + major snowstorm = excellent timing.

I blame Larry. But I always do...

Tank Top Tuesday

Green mesh sweater, green tank top, black bra

Crowing Cock

I call Dwarfie for advice and he answers with his usual crusty this better be important grunt for a salutation.

"Hi, Dwarfie, I'm confused about something. Do you have a minute?"

"What's up, Toots?"

"I was reading Tiana's blog, and for the second time she mentions that her son has a giant cock. I can't explain it, but it bothers me to read that."

"That's because a cock is something you have sex with..."

"That's it," I respond relieved, "and on a baby..."

"You'd call it something else."

Familiar Bedfellows

With all this talk of strange bedfellows this past week, I've been reminded of the problem some of you have with not knowing what to call the person that you live with and to whom you are not legally married.

I'm told "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" aren't suitable because they sound juvenile and don't reveal there is a shared domicile and commitment to the future.

"Partner" is no good because people assume you are gay if you are straight or they think you are talking about someone who you're in business with.

By turning to the web, I have found a plethora of words and phrases you can use instead of "spouse equivalent", "significant other" or "person of the opposite sex sharing living quarters". First, here are some I found checking various reference sources:

• My conjugal relation [As opposed to your brother who would be your fraternal relation]
• My conjugate [Mathematical: the person who rationalizes the denominators of your fractions, is the root of your polynomial function, and who can be joined to you by a 1-parameter family of geodesics.]
• Mon conjoint; ma conjointe [Means legally married in French, but if spoken with a heavy Franco-Ontarien accent won't give anyone the impression there is anything legal about what goes on between the two of you.]
• The person who is developing an equitable right to my property [Legal #1, problematic because in addition to not being romantic, I'm told it could also apply to someone who is doing extensive renovations on your property with an unwritten promise of having an ownership share.]
• The person through whom I am eligible for dental benefits and an extended-health plan [This is at least unambiguous if you're over 25; on the other hand, you should be calling someone like this "my treasure of incalculable worth".]
• My intimate companion [Cloying unless you're a pair of entirely platonic friends from the early 1800s].
• The person with whom I am in a relationship of some permanence [Legal #2 - see Ontario's Family Law Act, Part 3].

Of course, some of our favourite bloggers (or ex-bloggers) have terms they like to use. Harmony used to use the saucy "my lovah", Hella Stella talks about her "BH", and J spells it out and calls A her "better half" from time to time.

Unfortunately for my research, most local bloggers seem to be either living without conjugal partners or purport to be actually married. Nevertheless, it was by going through blogs of people who are living with another person without the sanction of church or state that I found the word that I think should be claimed by the unwed.

I had been calling up archive pages and doing a ctrl-F for "my " to find possible alternative terms, but on the blog of J's better half A, The Adventures of your Mom, I found a term I think is perfect just by reading the second most recent posting:

So homeslice Paul and I went to pickup (sic) his new 49 burger capacity BBQ. Of course no mojor (sic) purchase goes without issue at Crappy Tire[.] (sic)

I had been reading so many blogs at this point that I forgot whose blog I was reading. The title made me think I was reading a mommy blog and I figured Paul must be the mommy's conjugal relation. "Homeslice," I thought, "what a great word!"

Imagine my disappointment when I realized that this was not some suburban mom talking about her bbq loving man, but instead tough guy A referring to his completely het pal. Then I went to the Urban Dictionary and confirmed that "homeslice" is a synonym for "homeboy" or "homie" that is favoured by caucasian youths.

But my disappointment doesn't have to last and you can help. I've submitted a new definition of "homeslice" to the Urban Dictionary. If the editors accept it, it will show up soon. Probably on page 4. If enough of you click the thumbs-up, it will move up, maybe even to #1.

Talk to The Hand

After one of the wilder weeks in Canadian political history, early pundications suggest the PM outmaneuvered his coalition opponents. The right-leaning ones say this makes him a freakin' genius.

Over the longer term, I'm not so sure. He needed to fuel a huge ideological shit storm to survive - on top of dropping the cynical fiscal stink bomb that started the Houseparty in the first place.

Fans of 60s cinema recall that Dr. Strangelove had an "alien hand". He claimed to be a reconstructed democrat, but The Hand was an unreconstructed Nazi bent on world destruction. Such that, whenever the doc talked about how to pull the world back from the edge of annihilation, The Hand leaped up to strangle him.

I'm starting to see a mental version of The Hand behind the PM's actions. Every time his mouth shapes even mild conciliation toward non-conservatives, this thing leaps out, gibbering, to smash the thought and sow chaos. He can't help it. It's bred in the bone. Given a choice between statesmanship and cheap shots at political opponents, his deepest instinct is to try to lull 'em just long enough to line up a better kick at their goolies. It's a strange way to build consensus - or a nation. And all the more marked for its contrast with recent events to the south of us.

I've said before that I think the guy played too many world-domination-themed board games in his geeky undergrad dorm. He can't drop the short sighted mindset of 'screw everybody to win the game'. And he surrounds himself only with like-minded gamesters.

So for him to reach across the (now padlocked) floor with conciliaTory words, after the week that was, seems even more disingenuous than blue sweater vests or platitudes about new eras of cooperation. You know, the things that preceded the tone-deafness of his infamously partisan fiscal update. His return to sweet reason seems perfunctory to the point of disinterest. I suspect that as with every preceding example we have available, he won't be bothered to fake it for any longer than he has to. In a crisis, he thinks he can outsmart anybody. Trouble is, his own lousy instincts have sparked the fuses on most of the country's recent crises.

Thing about classic movies, is that the guys who wrote them know their drama. (So do 6,000 year old, semi-mythical coyotes. We had drive-ins back west, y'know... and, it seems, longer memories and better civics lessons than much of the Canadian electorate. I digress.) The central figures in Greek and Shakespearean tragedy all have fatal flaws. Some far less obvious than the PM's metaphorical hand. I worry that this has the makings of a G(r)eek tragedy for Canada.

Breaking News: les drôles amies tell PM to take his prorogue and...

A PM gets his highly irregular prorogue. Three Coalition leaders hit a noon rally on Parliament Hill and vow to remain coalesced. And to keep swinging. The second-guessing and chivvying begins. So, everybody, get your coveralls and umbrellas ready. I hear Mr. Harper's well-oiled, well-financed platoon of motorized manure spreaders idling just offstage. And Mr Layton's motormouth just beginning to warm up. The upshot? Dunno. The only certainties are that it's gonna be a long six weeks until parliament is recalled. And that it's going to get ugly...er.

It Could Have Been Worse for the Liberals...

Take 1

Take 2

Take 3

Take 4

Nightfall

Prorogue this...

Tank Top Tuesday

Mourning the Poll Results - Oatmeal is Losing

Top Five Alternatives to the Coalition

Now that Prime Minister Harper has put the F-U in fiscal update and pushed Canada into a constitutional crisis, I propose some governance alternatives to consider:

Barack Obama

As Homer Simpson once said, Canada can be considered America Jr. So, why not have President-Elect Obama preside over things in the Great White North until his inauguration in January? It’s a win-win situation. He gets some governance experience before taking on the big job, and we get a good looking, well-educated hipster-guy as PM that everyone will like. We haven’t had that since Trudeau came on the scene in 1968. And our economy is only half as bad as Uncle Sam’s. Throw in Canadians’ low expectations when it comes to deliverables from politicians, and he may like it so much that he’ll want to stick around.

Michaëlle Jean

In the old days, her job was the executive branch of rule. Let’s give it back to her. And while we're at it, return the Stanley Cup and change the annual hockey classic to its original shinny days on the back rink of Rideau Hall. Go, Silver Seven, go!

Cats of Parliament Hill

Given Stéphane “I’m not dead yet” Dion seems to have as many lives as a feline, maybe we should take our cues and move the legislature to those equally feral denizens of Parliament Hill. A purr-fect time for electoral paws, I say. They cost less to maintain than a typical Cabinet Minister’s office budget and also do double-duty for rodent control [insert Senate joke here].

Post Mistress General

The old saw goes that whoever runs the post office truly rules the empire. For Canada, this comes in the form of Moya Greene, a native of Newfoundland, and head postie of our national postal service. Anyone who can get the mail through postal worker picket lines could probably move a few pieces of legislation with equal adeptness.

The CBC's At Issue Panel

They seem to know everything, that panel. They could make a pretty good governance coalition themselves. And that Chantal Hébert… isn’t she just the coolest the way she shuts down Andrew Coyne’s right-wing jingoistic rants with just a raise of an eyebrow? Put a mustache on her and you’d have the makings of a great porn star. And maybe Allan Gregg could use the extra salary to buy himself some new threads, preferably something that doesn’t make him look like a record company A&R man. Peter Mansbridge would become the Speaker of the House and Rex Murphy could become Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod --- if you know what I mean.

Not so Zen Thoughts

I have not quite perfected clearing my mind of all thoughts during yoga.

For example, tonight, while I was listening to my yoga teacher's soothing instructions, I was also discreetly trying to get a glimpse of the enticing tattoo on her rump.

As I continued posing, I remembered that I should book a series of massages with her. She is also my massage therapist.

At that thought, and as I was trying to stay balanced in a I Have Fire Shooting Out of My Middle Finger She Woman Man Hater Warrior pose, I let out a whiny Uji breath as I realized, with envy in my heart, that there are certain things that have happened to my beloved fellow bloggers that just never happen to me.

I have never,

1. Gotten to second base with my massage therapist,
2. Won anything of any significant value,
3. Scored free tickets to see someone I love perform, or
4. Made love to someone on the desk of a Member of Parliament.
5. There is no fifth thing, but I wish there was.
   

.

ESI Motif Roundup

Jet Packs: 25 Nov 2008 - Eric Scott took 21 seconds to cross Colorado's 335 metre wide Royal Gorge at 120 km-h. [Google News]

Ways to make money that we've been scooped on: Unconventional Naked Calendars

• Red Hat Ladies,
• Women who ski with rifles,
  
• Clowns,
• Australian Paramedics,
  
• Women of Curling,
  
• Oxford Students,
• Builders,
• Bus Drivers, but
• Why it's maybe good we didn't try this.

Rural Predators:

• In the event you have a livestock loss due to one or more of the noted predators, claims for compensation can be made to the City of Ottawa.
• CBC: Ontario's most dangerous city for deer-vehicle collisions should make it legal to hunt deer with a bow within city limits, a local hunter says.

Dating:

• Someone else is researching Friends with Benefits, so I don't have to.

Metablogging:

• The New York Times has picked up on Slow Blogging:
  

  Ms. Ganley, who recently left her job as a writing instructor at Middlebury College, compares slow blogging to meditation. It’s “being quiet for a moment before you write,” she said, “and not having what you write be the first thing that comes out of your head.”

• And the Slow Blog Manifesto:
  

  4. Slow Blogging is a willingness to remain silent amid the daily outrages and ecstasies that fill nothing more than single moments in time, switching between banality, crushing heartbreak and end-of-the-world psychotic glee in the mere space between headlines. The thing you wished you said in the moment last week can be said next month, or next year, and you’ll only look all the smarter.

• Did you know there is a formal mechanism for grading blog posts? It's Ryan Bretag's Blogging Rubric.
• New mom, Tiana blogged something this week that I have no doubt is true in every sense, but I still think she's going to get in trouble for it:
  

  It's been just over 5 months and so far, I feel like I'm doing not only a good job, but a fantastic job

Dysfunction and Politics:

• Carleton University Students Association, the Town of Caledon, and Stephen Harper demonstrate that misguided decisions happen at every level of politics.

Breaking News*

Nymphs not wearing tank tops

Here are the results, so far, of your voting for which t-shirt or tank top I should order:

Coming Through: 8%
Woodsy's Web: 25%
Putting Out: 25%
Mad for Tea: 42%

You have two more days to vote before I place my order, and unlike with the Canadian Blog Awards, you can vote as often as desired.

Audrey and Harmony, I haven't forgotten your two votes for Romantic Gestures.

*OK, so maybe it isn't.

Playing Along - Nursemyra and t shirt friday

Nursemyra invites all to play along on the last Friday of the month by showing off our favourite t-shirt. A short story explaining the t-shirt can also be included.

I decided it would be fun to play.

I don't wear this t-shirt anymore. It is too big, stained, worn thin, and rather tacky, but I can't seem to part with it.

I credit Iggy Pop's music for providing me with much needed ambition and raison d'être when I was 17.

When the world catches Spamish flu

It's another odd little "Who'da thunk it?" sign of global recession: Apparently when times get tough, the tough buy Spam. My secret coyote sources tell me that Hormel Inc, manufacturer of the delicacy, is already cheering it's fat(ty) windfall profits. Even added extra shifts to the assembly line to meet surging demand.

But anyone warming up for a swan dive into the dietary Spambyss should note that, though we coyotes will eat most any damn thing, we won't touch that stuff. (Note to early Christmas shoppers: We prefer chocolate, and large, slow cats, and sugary baked goods but really, we're not fussy... I digress)

You're baffled, you say? All of Great Britain lived on the stuff during the Second World War, you say? It can't be that bad, you say? Who wouldn't like unidentifiable parts of porker, frappé-ed to vaguely pinkish molecules in some industrial-sized Cuisinart, then suspended in gelatinous yellow goo comprising half fat and half salt, you say? Then welded into a metal-jacketed brick of maybe-meat, you say? Resembling food? You say?

Oh, wait, you say. Except that Great Britain immediately after the war had to invent the National Health System to counteract its effects. One 12-ounce block (Remember ounces? I digress again...) serves you 180 per cent of an average human's normal daily dose of salt, 150 per cent of the total fat, and 170 per cent of the saturated fat. Oh, and, like, rather more than a thousand calories. That's a lot of goodness in one unassuming little can.

Which, judging by my speed-reading-on-the-fly the last time Hartman's Independent Grocer stockboys were chasing me out with brooms, ain't that cheap compared to like, food, anyway. It's all so... unappetizing.

Let's get very clear here: buying Spam is not about economizing, it's about self-flagellation for goin' all greedhead and buying those sub-prime mortgage futures your idiot brother-in-law was flogging, even when you knew the economic model sounded like utter lunacy. Is it coincidence that penitence and penury share prefixes? But for those that feel a need to maintain certain standards of social decorum and gracious living in a global meltdown, we look to Hawaii for a ray of hope: Spam sushi. Because even while you're killing yourself, you can hang onto a vestige of your old panache doing it.

Workout Wednesday

Because a mind is a terrible thing to waste

Tank Top Tuesday - Guest Spot

Duncan the Cat in his sexy tank top.

Tea-Shirt Advice

I can't decide which Tea-Shirt by Fourth Dwarf I should order for myself.

What Tea-Shirt would you like to see on me?
	Coming Through
	Woodsy's Web
	Putting Out
	Mad for Tea
Free polls from Pollhost.com

I am not posting for Tuesday because

1. I'm tired and I have cramps because it's my moon-time.
   
2. I've got a lovely book to read. (Nursemyra, it's called You Suck: A Love Story by Christopher Moore)
   
3. I feel unappreciated because nobody commented on my cleavage today (although a female co-worker did take a hold of a strand of my hair and stroked it).
   
4. I could tell you about today's flirting, but you'd still continue to walk around downtown pretending you don't see anyone - you would still resist flirting with cute coffee baristas.
   
5. I'm so grumpy that you'll be much better off reading this xkcd Webcomic than anything I could write to charm you with right now.
6. I asked someone to guest post for Tank Top Tuesday. Their bosom is much bigger then mine. (Dwarfie only has five on his list.)

I'm not posting for Monday because

1. I'm tired.
2. I've got a good book to read.
3. I feel unappreciated because nobody noticed the tea-shirt I did of Audrey's advice last week.
4. I could tell you about the dating study announced last week that said when there are many people at speed-dating, everyone just picks the best-looking, but when there are only a few, people make choices based on perceptions of compatibility. But if I did tell you about it, it wouldn't change anything you do. You'd still make the same screwed-up choices in your romantic lives.
5. I'm so grouchy that you'll be much better off reading this dinosaur comic than anything I would blog right now.
   

Romantic Gesture Tea-Shirt by FourthDwarf

Bloggers Breakfast

I regret missing the Bloggers' Breakfast...or was it brunch? Woodsy told us all about the event, and some of us wished we had been there.
Woodsy was delighted with all the bloggers, and was particularly happy about getting to know XUP, who she reported is delightful, intelligent and cool.
Here are my reasons for not doing the brunch:

1) I haven't been blogging, so feel unworthy of attending.
2) I get all shy and nervous around high-profile bloggers.
3) I never commit to morning activities on weekends.
4) There is no fourth.
5) There is no fifth.

Ottawa Transit: Straight to Plan F

I see we're trying to roll out yet another Plan B on the Transit Plan thing - again. This time, $7.2 billion buys the city a couple of rail lines that don't get where a lot of transit users want to to go, And! A! Light! Rail! Tunnel! Downtown!

Hey! The times cry for boldness! Does a real city need to dig some crappy rail tunnel? They're so 19th century, and our visionary mayor is really a 20th century kinda guy. Heh. I know we've we've suggested a few Plan Bs ourselves, but now I think Ottawa just needs to leapfrog straight over all that dithering, and skip straight to the big enchilada: Plan F!

Hear me out. I've been looking into motorized para gliders, and $7,200 buys a nice one, with bulk discounts. More than adequate. Our budget buys a million of 'em. Do it! Lend them out for a minimal fee to everyone who needs to use one, just like those communal bicycles in Paris and Amsterdam. Cutting edge thinking. No need to dig a tunnel. No more buses clogging the streets. We put all that free wasted airspace to use. Utopia! Well, except for the pigeons.

Our mayor is obviously big on the cult of the amateur. He applauds when the city fires those elitist managers. He's proved willing to pitch in micromanage things himself. And since being elected, he's more than fulfilled his ripe early promise as an ultimate amateur. So I think he'll agree when I say that although these things technically fly, we don't need no stinkin' pilot licence requirements. Anybody with a toonie or so should be able to use 'em. And to show my faith in him, I think he should be the first to test the system. Do we need Plan F right this minute, or what?

Avoiding awkward moments

I've heard a rumour that Woodsy might be running into some Ottawa bloggers this weekend. Since bloggers are inquisitive and yet shy at the same time, I have prepared this list of questions they should avoid with each other to prevent awkwardness.

• A&J at Please pick up your socks: "Did you have any trouble finding a parking spot?"
• Alison at Party of 3: "Would you say this is as tasty as frozen yogourt?"
• From Nat's Brain: Are those your original lips?
• Guillermo at Los Zielgler: "How do you like Canadian wildlife? Don't you think squirrels are adorable?"
• Hella Stella - No questions are off limits with Stella. Ask what she's bought at her favourite store lately.
• Jobthingy's Jungle: "Have you used your cell phone for something other than phoning lately?"
• Jo Stockton at Also a Talker: "Does your gynecologist still think you're a good woman?"
• Lynn at Diary of a Turtlehead: "Is it true you got silicone cups for your birthday"
• Maven of Stay at Home Mayhem: "Do you think a person who calls herself a social blogger might actually be a binging blogger in denial?"
• Meanie at Mean old Mommy: "Would you like a Dorito?"
• Newsguy Bob: "Could you pass the salt?"
• Raino MOT: "Have you found anywhere in Ottawa to get naked with a little oriental girl?"
• Robin at Watawa Life: "Have you snuggled with Clint Eastwood today?"
• Sky Girl: "Is your daughter still obsessed with the stove timer?"
• Skylark at Logan - The DandeLion King: "Still sleeping with your son?"
• Woodsy Coloured Marbles (or here): "What would you wear under that top?"
• XUP: "Would you like a drive home?"
• Zoom at Knitnut: "Did anyone pee in your bed last night?"

Remember, those are all questions to avoid!

Tank Top Thursday

Breaking News

Wendell's funeral procession?

Stringer Tree Guerillas? Never heard of 'em

With a new Parliament upon us, it seems an opportune time to try to divine the political fortunes of our federal parties. Sometimes that means peering into the mists for hidden messages, scripted code and fateful meaning. So let's rev up the trusty Internet Anagram Server and see what we can learn by typing in their names.

Conservatives ... Cave Voter Sins

Liberals ... Ill Bears or, if you are a glass half-full type, Ballsier

Bloc Quebecois ... Coo Clique Ebbs

New Democrats ... Comrade Newts

Green Party ... Rapt Energy

Looking ahead to the Liberal leadership race, things appear a little menacing for Michael Ignatieff ... Mafia Fleecing Hit ... and equally troublesome for Dominic LeBlanc ... Clinical Mob Den ... but perhaps former Ontario premier Bob Rae will again rule in the coming Bob Era.

Image: Superior Comrade Newt keeps an eye or two on the proletariat