Civic politics 101

...It utterly baffled Larry that, even long after dumping his two old business partners and then getting himself elected mayor, he was still regarded as something of a loose cannon in local political circles...

More People Trying to Limit my Dating Life

Bad enough that the Chair set out strict limits on who I get to go out with, there's a bunch of Midwesterners producing propaganda reels.

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Slight technical difficulties...

"I told ya not to fire them damn rockets, Short Guy. I don't know how to navigate uppy-downy arcs through the freakin' air. Especially at high speed. After that explosion on the Decarie, er, launch pad, we're really lucky we even went the right direction.

"So, why doncha just cool yer jets while that nice RCMP guy in the front of this cruiser checks our IDs. Ya gotta expect these kindsa holdups when ya land in a flaming wreck in the Parliamentary Precinct before dawn. And hey: I can smell Elgin Street from here!

"I'm pretty sure we'll get past the whole racial profiling thing with flying colours; no terrorists here. You're a short-arse space pirate, I'm a smartass talkin' dog, and we just plowed into the lawn behind the Parliamentary Library -- what could be more normal? We'll get outta this in plenty of time for you to scoff fries when The Usual Spot opens.

"Meantime, why doncha mellow out and watch the pretty eclipse? Us coyotes always say ya don't have to actually land on the moon to appreciate it..."

The Long Road Back to Elgin Street

Umm, so, here I am in the interestin' position of shotgunnin' in 4th Dwarf's primo ride, on the way back from the ESI Beachfront Timeshare™. (Don'cha just love WiFi?)

Unfortunately, we've been stuck in permanent gridlock on the Decarie Expressway in Montreal for days now. Something about a subway collapse downtown rerouting all the traffic out here in the 'burbs. And, oh, maybe the fact that the navigator is a teensy bit bad with maps.

Lookit, I work mostly by smell, for cripes' sake.

While I can handle the gnashing teeth and sotto voce cussing (Hey. I'm the one doin' it, after all...) I am becoming increasingly nervous when the Short Guy starts muttering darkly about "cracking the taps on the liquid oxygen tanks and torching off the retro boosters to get the f*ck outta here". 'Specially since all I can see back there is a two-horsepower Evinrude and a coupla leftover propane cartridges....

We'll make it back eventually, I keep telling him. We'll be fine. Hell, we have Jerky Treats™ up the wazoo in this thing. But all he does is moan about the perfection of the fries at The Usual Spot on Elgin Street, and how long it's been since he's had any, and droolin' in a most unseemly way. Frankly, I fear for his sanity. And maybe mine...

WebSlavery Vacation

You've heard of working vacations? Busman's Holidays? I would give anything to be on one of those. Instead I have landed in web slavery.

It all started innocently with a trip to the coast to visit my pirate relatives and an old mining friend. The mining friend, we'll call him "John" has a young daughter, "Juniper", with many interests. Last night, just after I found out about the size of Megan B's feminine attributes, John logged me into his daughter's Webkinz account and started me playing Quzzy's Word Challenge.

Three hours later, I had made it to level 6 and had earned 272 webkinz dollars for Juniper. I spent 3 of those on mushrooms to feed her "pets" and 42 dollars on a pair of brown corduroys for her pink poodle.

That was bad enough, but this morning, Juniper set me to tending her crops. I'll tell you, I wish I was back in the salt mine.

Links: Wipipedia on game farmers; 1 Up on game slaves