HAPPY DAYS

My Mexican friend T. and I have worked out our differences and are enjoying an almost honeymoon-like existence. I could never stay mad at T.

Sigh,

D.

FOR JILL

Oh Tequila My Love,

We've been through alot, you and I. How can I ever apologize enough for banishing you from my life for 13 years. I was young and foolish, prone to rash decisions - I have no other excuse. Thanks be to Kory for convincing me that my quality of life would improve if you and I were back together.

Being reunited with you all those years ago, is and will always be, one of the highlights of my life. The magical moments we've shared since brings tears to my eyes. The memories I can't recall, but have been told back to me - priceless. Some of my favourite times have been playing CSI to decifer the sequence of events after an evening of fun and frivolity with you. And we laughed..........

But like all good relationships, sometimes we need to step back and re-evaluate, gain some perspective and adjust accordingly. I will admit here and now, that our most recent time together was a sheer letdown. My expectations of you are ridiculously high, but only because that's the standard that you have set. I simply don't understand, that all I would get from you at the end of an evening, particularily on a starry, moonlit Saturday night, is heartburn. I'm sorry, but that kind of outcome can not be ignored. I am staunchly loyal, however, repeated offenses will garner you nothing but the door. Harsh? Yes. But even you have to understand the limits that this relationship is bound by. It's a simple formula that must be maintained, otherwise the partnership is doomed.

Alright, so back to what we do best. I have numerous engagements in the near future that I anticipate you'll be making a star appearance at. Let's just resume our natural tone and forget all of this silliness ever happened. I have faith that this unfortunate incident was just a stumble and that you'll be back, heartier and wielding more power and influence than ever.

Love you long time!

xoxo,

D.

VOYEURS

Yes, I still write. But now it's only for me. If you want to know, then ask.

D.

THE SKY IS FALLING

A note to Chicken Little, Liberals, NDPers, et al:

BOO!

Signed,
A Non-believer of the "Stephen Harper is Scary Even Though I Have No Evidence To Back It Up" Rhetoric


D.

SHIP OF FOOLS

It takes alot to get me riled these days. I just don't seem to have passion for much of anything, but leave it the the dirty, rotten Liberals to make me stand up and say "Hey - WTF??" I could go on for days about this sorry excuse for a leadership, but it's already been well documented and dissected by many with a much broader understanding and vocabulary than I possess, so I will attempt to focus on their lastest brilliant idea.

This merry band of morons and theives, headed by none other than the court jester, Paul Martin, have decided that the way to stop the violence, specifically in Toronto, is to go to the trenches and say "Hey you guys, stop it. You can't play with handguns anymore. They're bad. Very bad." Weeeeeell, that oughta stop them.

Now, I may be a simple, barely-educated woman, without all those fancy degrees and impressive credits, but haven't handguns been highly restricted for many years? The recent 2 billion dollar gun registry was supposed to take care of those nasty long-barrel guns that criminals typically stash in the small of their back. That's what they told me. Millions and millions of voters believed them and stood behind this gross expenditure, all in the name of public good. If you didn't agree with this ridiculous, wasteful program, then you were labeled a redneck, guntoting, pro-American hillbilly, or a criminal. In fact, if you didn't play along, you became a criminal! Yes, that scary farmer in Saskatchewan suddenly became public enemy number one, because he didn't get the paperwork on his gopher hunting rifle in on time. So where did it go wrong?

The answer is not difficult. It was always there, everyone knew it, many spoke of it, but too many couldn't wrap their brains around the simplicity. Criminals don't register their guns. Everything they do is about concealing their activities and crimes. This registry has never and will never have any effect on crime. 2 billion dollars. 2 billion dollars. Say it over and over until you grasp the full meaning of that much money. I know I can think of numerous ways to spend that money that would have an impact on the safety and well-being of the public. Bet you could too. When left to our own devices, (meaning when the control-happy Libs stay the fuck out) the majority are capable of making intelligent, sane and rational desicions. We just have to be quiet for a moment and listen to our own thoughts, not the factions with ulterior motives.

So Martin thinks he's going to stroll into the ghettos of Toronto and tell them they can't use those (illegal and unregistered, by the way) handguns any longer. Is he going to look them in the eye and wag his finger at them? Say "Bad boys", and threaten to ground them, or ban 50 Cent from coming? Maybe threats aren't necessary at all. I'm sure a good, stern talking to would do the trick. I can just picture this scene taking place after Martin makes his grand proclamation. One hood approaches another in an alley. They have a beef going way back to, I don't know, yesterday. It seems that one hood walked by another hood and didn't cursty, thus showing an utter lack of respect. It's time to settle the score. Thug #1 approaches thug #2 and mutters something unintelligable and brandishes his forbidden weapon of choice, waving and pointing it in a clearly threatening manner. Thug #2, not understanding him, but getting the message anyway through the universal sign of I'm going to shoot you , says "Hey buddy. Put that down. Mr. Martin said we're not allowed to play with guns anymore. Dispose of that vile weapon immediately or you're going to get in big trouble. " Naturally, being good, compliant Canadian citizens, thug #1, will come to his senses and drop the gun down the nearest sewer. The thugs will decide to settle their dispute like civilized men in the nearest Starbucks over a non-fat, decaf latte. They end the meeting with a handshake, singing the praises of the dear, wise Mr. Martin and a promise to see each other at the nearest Liberal headquarters, where they have decided to spend their free time wisely by volunteering to assist on the campaign.

January 23rd people. January 23rd.

D.

OUT DAMN GERMS - OUT

So it seems the "Skip the country to avoid getting a job" tour has been delayed. My temple has been invaded with the meanest, most heartless, unsavoury little creatures known to man - germs. Specifically, the common cold.

Now to most of you more pedestrian people, being afflicted with this would not be newsworthy. You're sick every five minutes. Although some of you still deny it, I do take a mental note every time you whine of the sniffles, so quit yer lying. Me getting sick however, is catastrophic. It doesn't happen. Sure, I feel like ass quite frequently, but that's from my own doing.

I have said loud and long that germs don't have a prayer in my body. There is so much alcohol in it, pervading not just my blood stream, but all of my internal organs and quite obviously, my brain as well. The moment one of these buggers tries to wriggle it's nasty little self into my system, WHAM! Tequila steps in and puts it's lights out. Adios Senor. Better luck in the next host. But I've been so-called "behaving" myself lately. I think my blood alcohol content may have finally dipped below the legal limit, which these relentless bastards saw as an opportunity to wrestle with my immune system. Nevermind the Nyquil - BARTENDER!

Much has been said about eating right, getting lots of sleep, exercising, not smoking and of course, moderation in alcohol consumption. I'm officially calling bullshit. I've always poo-pooed the theory, but now I am the proof.

In this dynamic new life I'm leading, I have managed to ditch my silly way of eating (you know the one where I lost 50lbs. and had energy and vitality to spare) and go back to the well-rounded way of eating that so many wise ones espouse. Well, of course there is a price to pay for joining the masses. For me that would be 15 new lbs. (so far) and minimal energy. Oh and I mustn't forget that fog in my head that is ever-present. Gosh, I missed it. All that clarity I had really sucked. Now, which of these foods is supposed to ward off sickness?

Exercise. Hmmm. My nemisis. I've heard that it is a vital ingredient to a long and heathy life, but so far have never experienced it's power and joy. It is supposed to release these wunder-things called endorphins?! All it releases for me is sweat. I'm not a big fan of sweat. It makes my hair frizzy and my face blotchy. Not seeing the big benefits in that. Increased energy? Huh? I personally have always had the ability to lay down and nap immediately after a workout, especially during the stretching phase. Really, I think you people make this shit up. It's clear to me that you're all masochists and use exercise as an excuse to abuse yourself and not seem freaky to the general public. Or perhaps, you're all in on some huge prank to see if you can get me to do it. Either way, I'm not playing along. Quit crowing to me about all this working out nonsense. Really, I've heard it before.

Sleep has been addressed here previously. It's so ridiculous that I sleep more now than ever before, yet this is the time I will be layed out with an illness. Honestly, it pains me. Sleep is lovely and warm - sometimes. Just not now. Since I have nothing pressing, sleep has become a chore. It is not the pleasent respite it use to be and has in fact, become boring. I try to make it happen within reasonable people's hours, but it's not co-operating. I have reverted to hours that are obscene to almost everyone on a North American schedule. Don't even get me started on the nightmares I've been having. Although I've never been a fan of perscription drugs, sleep aids are starting to look good to me.

Smoking is good and makes me happy - FUCK OFF. Nuff said.

And I want some American Spirits, dammit.

Now I'm off to blode my node. America can wait.

D.

P.S. Hot tubs are bad, well good, but bad.

IT'S BEEN FUN

Adios for now Canada. Gosh, I can't even tell you how much fun I've had watching people's souls rot. Of course, that's with the assumption that they had them to begin with. I've seen little evidence lately to back that up. Perhaps I was remiss with my Suzy-Sunshine take on life. Silly me. But I will watch no more. See ya! Hope you all grow some integrity while I'm gone. Hah! Good luck with that and sleep tight.

D.
(murmur from the audience - " Hm, well, I know she's not talking about ME!" Are you sure??)