Anarchy on the West Coast

What is up with this rainstorm?
Why did I go out?
Why did I come home?

The power was out all morning. Pretty much across town, all day. I don't like peeing in the dark. My cat went insane. I've never seen the wind blow so hard in all of my twenty nine years. It blew me across the street and into a pile of water. The ocean is alive with angry waves.

The traffic is nuts. I took the inner route to avoid the highway winds, but everyone else had the same idea. People can't drive worth shit. Everyone in town went shopping. Chapters was a zoo. Thank GOD for Starbucks in every store, not so much the lineups, but I bought a book.


Had to feel my way to the checkout in the grocery market in pitch black while everybody ran around screaming bloody murder, stuffing their pockets and knocking aisles down (ok that part didn't actually happen, but it would be fitting) I've never been in a grocery store without the glaring lights and hum of refrigeration.

I couldn't see through the windshield and hydroplaned all the way home to find the boat shed whatchamacallit had done a sommersault into the neighbour's house, was flipped right over, ripped to shreds, banging against their siding...the garbage can halfway down the street along with everything that was under the shed. All I could say was HOLY. SHIT. as I sat there in the truck stunned. It was a beautiful sight of pure destruction by the queen bee herself: Mother Bloody Nature. I called some strong men to please get the hell over here before that damn shed chisels a hole in that damn blue house and as I write they are out there in the pouring rain dismantling the flimsy giant.


My cat is under the bed licking himself dry and I, with my wet feet, will be changing my socks, making some tea, curling up under a blanket and reading my shiny new book. This rain and wind better let up or I'm not coming out.

Cops Gone Bad

Just because you wear a uniform and carry a gun...doesn't make this right. I mean, these guys weren't even resisting. It's a case of the asshole cop with something to prove. I hope there are consequences for your actions. This is no way to uphold the law. What a joke.

Dirtbag

Dear SOB,

7:30 am on a Sunday morning is not the time to tear up the neighbourhood asphalt with your obnoxious dirt bike...

Especially while shooting exhaust fumes along the route of those who have decided to go for a peaceful morning walk, enjoy the sun and the sound of birds singing.

And waking up the neighbours who decided to sleep in....Not nice.

You are a big jerk.

Take a soil sample.

Sincerely,

The gal down the street

Dirty Laundry

Tonight I had a date with myself at the laundromat. How fun. It was a great joy walking into the stifling humid stench of an individual who obviously refuses to bathe.

Most of the time, I'm very tolerant of people but this is one thing I can't understand because you look like you could be a normal young guy in real life, and quite frankly it pisses me right off. Can. You. Not. Smell. Yourself? Why. Do. You. Not. Care?

Yes, we are all human - hence the reason for showers and cologne and all that good stuff. I'm sorry if you only get to the laundromat once a month, but really, if you stopped playing World of Warcraft 24/7, had a shave and transported yourself back into the real world you would understand why people are holding their shirts up to their nose when they walk by and tsk -tsk -ing you when you forget to say thank you as they hold the door open. Manners. Gotta have them.

Let me just say, that I am so thankful for people (especially men! mmm, your cologne so good, so sexy) who take pride in personal hygiene, and have enough common sense to realize the importance of manners & etiquette.

It's only a few more days until front loaders are installed. It wasn't so bad, I survived as did the others. Light at the end of the tunnel. Hallelujah!

And luckily across the way there is a Starbucks. I was able to escape for a while with Ayn Rand narrating her philosophy to me while I inhaled the invigorating aroma of Arabica beans. And I shrugged, with Atlas.

On normal days, I love doing laundry. I love having fresh bedding to cozy up to at night. I love hanging my clothes outside on a line, they smell so divine; there's the retro factor and it's one of those things you can do while you clear your head... the joys of simple day-to-day tasks.

With no yard or line, this is not so easy, and I'm not sure what the neighbours think with my clothes strewn over the railings and hanging from awnings. The panties stay indoors, however. I refuse to use the dryer unless I have to. Planet friendly. It's a huge waste of energy, money and clothes last way longer. How many million dryers are there out there, running daily, hourly? Shit! I'd be happy without a dryer to begin with.

And I guess I always wondered. With about 20 dryers going at the laundromat as well as the many washers, whether or not we are heightening our risk of cancer. Electromagnetic frequencies=Radiation=Ionization=Damage of the D.N.A.=Cancer? It all adds up over time.

Well, at least my clothes are clean.

Six Shillings A Dozen

How I get from point A to point B is an unsolved mystery, but there sure is a ton of random information out there.

What started out as a simple perusal of recipes ended with a rather strange, yet minutely amusing piece of entertainment: The Flea Circus (See it for yourself, right here)

I've heard of all kinds of sideshow acts, but this one kind of threw me in a loop. Only because I've seen the damn things falling off my cat, which by the way was beyond discusting. However, thanks to modern medicine I had Revolution on him in no time and they all died suddenly a few hours later. Not to mention the fact, that this week I had to personally pull a big fat tick off my cat with tweezers. These have since been sterilized. Bugs belong outside, no? Apparently, it's the time of year when they all want in. I still have night terrors.

So why the hell would I want to see them playing football and hauling heavy shit around?!

Interestingly enough, this has been going on for a while. Since the 1800s. Back then, fleas were common, so tracking them down for shows was quite easy. As hygiene improved over the years - they were harder to come by and cost six shillings a dozen. During shortages, a single flea even cost two shillings! Here I pay to get them the hell out of my cat, and these buggars pay them to put on a show. Nonsense.

Handbills of an exhibition of performing fleas, 1820:

To train the fleas not to jump, they are put in a jar with a lid for three days. After this, they jump no higher than the height of the lid.

The fleas are harnessed, so to not escape and ruin the show...

1891 description of the harnessing procedure:
The flea is taken up gently, and a noose of the finest 'glass-silk' is passed round his neck, and there tied with a peculiar knot. The flea, unfortunately for himself, has a groove or depression between his neck and body, which serves as a capital hold-fast for the bit of silk. (Buckland, 1891, p. 119)

Fleas can also be glued to things to give the illusion of a performance... For instance, to the floor of the circus enclosure. Instruments are then glued to the flea performers and the enclosure is heated. The fleas fight to escape giving the impression of fleas playing musical instruments.

Lucky for performing fleas, they don't live very long. And with cruelty such as this, it's a miracle PETA isn't after them. Or are they? I don't know, do you?

How to Succeed in Business

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~ Company name withheld for obvious reasons.

Well it might be a good idea to get someone else to proofread your work.