The FORTRESS of SOLITUDE

-T.S. Eliot

Good Monday all.

Friday, August 26 was the big day. The day I trotted on down to the Humane Society of Toronto at 11 River Street to pick up my new cat, Captain Assmunch III. I never intended to actually call him such, but it made me smile thinking about calling him as an older cat, "Captain ASSMUNCH!" And to have his fat ass come waddling out from behind the couch to sneer at me disapprovingly.
Straight after work on Friday, I headed out to IKEA to pick up some fashionably cheap cat accessories. I had two things in mind: this cat water/food bowl, this cat blanket, this toy and this collar. Unfortunately, IKEA's pet section is a single stand with very little of what they advertise on their site. The bowl was not there so I settled for two $2.50 bowls. I did get everything else, however. Then I returned home, buying litter and food on the way to my apartment. I set off to go pick up the Captain once everything was set up.
I got to the Humane Society and was immediately struck by the sadness of the place. My heart sank. I began perusing the selection of cats but the Captain appeared to have already been adopted. No matter. There were three cats of interest to me: a white female with some brown spots, a black male and then the black male's cell mate, who appeared to be a grey male. All were between 2-5 months old.
I came back out, filled in my application and waited for my interview. It was a long wait. I had picked #60 and they were now serving #4 (!). Apparently their sign was broken. Go figure.
A man came out and called my number shortly after. We went into the adoption area to show the cat I wanted to adopt. The white female wasn't gone, but her papers were, which meant that someone was adopting her already. Then I went to the other cage and the black male had gone. Damn. Looks like the grey one for me. He grabbed the papers and we went to the interview chamber (see: closet). The interview was short and sweet and I was told to go up to the front desk to wait. They brought out the kitten and when they did - I opened up the box and realized the cat was quite a beautiful black and grey tabby, 2 months old. Sweet as could be. Meowing up a storm.
I took a cab home and the cat was quite excited and vocal. I chit chatted with the driver about his life that I didn't care about. I arrived home.
I brought the new kitten to my apartment and opened his carrying box so he could get out on his own. It took him about 10 minutes to scope out the scene and he finally bounced out. When he did, I noticed that he was a bit skinny, but didn't really think anything of it. Some kittens are skinny.
He gave the apartment the once over and then found a place to chill on the couch. He got down on his haunches and pulled his front paws under him, wrapping his tail around one side. And he slept. He didn't eat, he didn't drink, he just slept. I figured this was fairly normal behavior for an animal that just escaped from what is literally jail. I'd probably be a little tuckered out myself.
The first night I set up food and water and a litter box in my room, along with a nice plush bed for him. He walked into my room behind me, rather slowly, and then gave my room the once over. When he had finished his inspection, he seemed lost, so I picked him up and placed him on his bed. The little guy fell asleep immediately after a little chit chat with me. Then I got into bed myself and fell asleep. He didn't utter a peep the entire night and then at 5am on Saturday morning, he decided he was getting up. He went directly to his litter box, did the business (still no solids) and then started mewing for me to open my door. I got out of bed, dressed and then let him out. He slowly walked out of my room and to his water in the kitchen. He drank for a long while, but never ate.
I grew concerned because a kitten should be eating 5-6 times a day. They're growing animals. They should also be VERY active. He wasn't, however. He finished drinking and went to the second litter box. He scratched around a bit and then exited. When he got near his food bowl, he started coughing. He then vomited and nothing but water came up. I thought this was very odd, but everything I read stated this was most likely stress related, coming to a new environment, etc., etc., etc. He also wasn't eating any of his food. I figured he just hated what I'd bought, so I got a different brand. I had hard, soft, wet, dry, shredded, chunks, blended...everything. Nothing was to his liking.
As the day wore on, he still hadn't eaten and the only movement he made was to drink, to go to the litter box or to find a new place to sleep. I grew very worried. I phoned the Humane Society and the very helpful woman on the other end dismissed it as stress, nothing more and that the cat wouldn't starve - it would eat in its own good time. The reason, according to her, that he was sleeping was because he hadn't eaten. So, in other words, once he had become acclimated to my apartment and to me, he would eat, his energy would return and he'd be as right as rain. Fine. My stress was relieved and I decided to let the little tyke sleep and go out for drinks so he could be alone in the apartment.
Ian came over and gave me a nice cat book with information on their care and upkeep. Was very sweet. He also fell in love with the little guy, who I had by this point named "Orko." You remember Orko, don't you? Ian had come up with the same theory, based on the Humane Society's thoughts, that it was probably just stress. So I left out food and Ian and I went for drinks. We had a rip roaring time. Then I came home a few hours later to find the cat had not eaten anything. Not the soft, the hard, the wet, the dry, etc. Nothing was touched. And he was in a different position, but I think only because my roommate was petting him. Orko seemed alright - he seemed to enjoy any position you put him in, on his back, on his stomach, scratching his ear. He purred away and just sat there enjoying the love. I figured I should call the Humane Society on Sunday if he hadn't eaten anything overnight.
I got up in the morning and lo and behold - still no eating. More than 24 hours without food is not normal for a kitten - stressed or not, and it can be potentially damaging to its health. I phoned up the Humane Society immediately and they informed me that I should bring Orko back to be examined by the veterinarian ASAP.
When you adopt a cat/kitten/dog at the Humane Society, if there are health problems in the first 48 hours, everything is covered by them. Unfortunately, though, you can only bring in your animal to be examined by the vet between 12 and 1pm. Odd, I know.
In any event, I started to get ready to bring Orko back to the THS and I get a text message from the boyfriend who is supposedly in Butt-Fuck-Nowhere, Ontario at some kind of wedding for the weekend. He asked if I was going to be home in a bit because he was going to call me. I said, "No, I've got to take Orko back to the THS to be examined." Then he turned around and said he was at Union Station, come to surprise me and that he was on his way so we could go together. Yay!
So he arrived, pets Orko and I shower. We leave and head to the THS. On the subway, Orko was fine, not making a sound, but then when we got off to make our way upstairs to the streetcar, he went BALLISTIC. Then when we got to street level, he was practically asleep from exhaustion. Three women passing by took an interest and began talking to us. They were sweet. We got on the streetcar and arrived at the THS fairly quickly. We sat down in the waiting room for the vet. After an hour wait, we were finally seen and the vet got this very somber look on her face as soon as I gently pulled Orko out of his carrying box.
"That is one sad looking kitten," she said as she hissed through her teeth.
She examined him and took his rectal temperature which was heartbreaking - Orko didn't enjoy it very much.
Then in a blurred 5-10 minutes, she explained to me that she was fairly certain he had contracted Feline Distemper. You can go to the link to read up on it, but in a nutshell, it's a virus that is very common and all kittens at 8-10 weeks are vaccinated for it. It depletes white bloods cells, as well as eating away the lining of the stomach. The animal will no longer eat, become listless and lethargic. They become extremely dehydrated and their body temperature lowers to dangerous levels at which infections cannot be fought. It can occur at any age for a cat, but in kittens, unfortunately...there is a 90% mortality rate.
She said all this and I didn't really register it while I was listening, I just kept nodding and saying, "Yes, uh-huh..." while Orko sat and looked more and more saddened in his box.
The vet told me that he would most likely not survive the night but she would do her best to see that he survived, despite the odds. She was going to put him on an IV with antibiotics immediately. They told me they would call during the week with any updates, but that we should all err on the pessimistic side based on the numbers.
She asked me if I had a carrying case, and I said, "Just the box he came in." And she got me to put him in the box and took him away.

And that was it.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I didn't really react until we got outside and I got very upset. I was okay on the streetcar, and in the grocery store, but got teary again when I had to go home and clean out his litter box and food bowls.

As of now I have not heard anything - Orko could still be alive, but I don't know. I hope so.













Above is the only still image I have of him before he returned to the THS, although I do have some webcam videos I took of him the first night, that I may post later.

I'm pulling for ya, Orko.

Love,
S.
xo

Hmmmm...

...well, it appears my ferret obsession was shortlived when I realized the amount of time, money and attention they require. Not that I had a problem doing any of those things, but it seems slightly odd that a creature that lives less than half as long costs 6 times the amount a cat does.

I'm well documented as being very anti-cat. I have loosened this policy lately, but am still somewhat skeptical. I do, however, think that getting a short-haired, female cat as a kitten is the best chance I'm going to get.

I don't hate cats. Many people stupidly perceive my anti-cat policy to be tantamount to my planning a Cat Holocaust. Not so. Would a person who wanted all cats dead cat-sit more than 6 times in their life and return the critters, unscathed to their owners? I don't think so.

I do dislike some things that cats are known to do (and have done so in my presence).
1) Shedding - I am no stranger to shedding. My parents have always had dogs as I grew up, and the lab we had for most of my life shed like a son of a bitch. In my OWN house/apartment, however, I have developed a Joan-Crawford-esque attitude towards cleanliness...I don't plan to beat the cat (or any child I might concoct) with wire hangers, an Ajax can, or even my bare hands...but I do like my bathroom clean and will freak out if I haven't cleaned it before a guest arrives. I like my kitchen clean and will methodically clean it everyday (unless I'm feeling lazy, and then it's all hands to microscopes to watch the streptococcifaccili boogie down on my counter tops - no skin off my nose). So, a LONG-HAIRED cat shedding all over my couches, my bed and/or my cleaned clothes is gonna drive me up the wall. 2) Vomiting - this really goes hand in hand with shedding, no? Anyway, I figure a short-haired cat will be less prone to yack up in front of my guests - as has happened in the past. 3) Defecating or urinating - anywhere but in their litter box. Having said this, I'm not a fan of the litter box either, but hell - it does put all the disgusting things in ONE PLACE, at least.

I have come to grips with these facts. In keeping, I intend to go to the Humane Society to adopt an unloved kitten when the boyfriend is next in Toronto.

I have love to give, dammit.

Also, this is the gayest thing I will ever post, but I love this song:

Memory
Grizabella
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her mem'ry
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The wither'd leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

Mem'ry
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew what happiness was
Let the mem'ry live again

Ev'ry streetlamp
Seems to moan
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And a street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning

Burnt out ends
Of smokey days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies
Another night is over
Another day is dawning

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

Jemima
Sunlight
Through the trees in summer
Endless masquerading

Together
Like a flower as the dawn is breaking
The memory is fading

Grizabella
Touch me!
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with my mem'ry
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is

Look
A new day has begun



Ta,
S.
xo

...was mediocre. The highlight(s) was/were going out with my friend Ian Saturday night and Sunday night for some cannabis and beer. Truly a good time was had by all on both nights.

Ian and I began speaking of my roommate (who is a mutual acquaintance of ours) and how he was celebrating his anniversary. Ian meant his anniversary at work but didn't say, so being the mental defective that I am, I assumed that he meant his ANNIVERSARY with his boyfriend (which was around the same time). We got in an argument about dates and how the year ended on one month, while I thought it ended on a another (since we were speaking about different things). It was resolved shortly, since neither of us give two shits about his work or relationship anniversary.

Somehow the conversation moved to open relationships (which I don't understand or relate to myself, but live and let live, I say) and I came up with a really clever and cutting line (as has been known to happen in the past) about it. It was, "Celebrating your anniversary in an open relationship is like cheering because you crossed a street with no traffic."*

Which is true. I don't really believe in open relationships - it's like buying a dog but then dog-walking for the whole block. What's the point? Sure - you make some extra cash, but I personally don't have the time or the inordinate amount of plastic baggies required.

Never had an open relationship myself. To me the moment the relationship becomes open, it doesn't exist anymore. "I'm really, really into you. I love you. But...to make our love 'better' I think we should sleep with other people."

WHAT.
IS.
THE.
POINT?

Become single again. You might as well be, it'll be cheaper for you in the long run.

The boyfriend feels the same on this issue. He's a keeper in all sorts of ways.

*It should be noted that I am not entirely sure if this was the EXACT line as I was completely and utterly pissed at that point in the night and frankly - I cannot remember. HOWEVER, in thinking back, it is likely it was something similar. I have come up with a reasonable, hand-drawn facsimile of the original line. In any event, I made up both, so credit where it's due - I am amazing.

When I started working for my present employer (which was 4 years ago now), I decided to keep a low profile. It prevents me from becoming entangled in office melodramas as well as confusing my work-life with various idiocies that invariably pop up.

Despite people's attempts to wrangle me into conversations on any number of subjects, I generally manage to slip out of them as deftly as an lubed otter*.

I walk into work this morning a little moist because of the torrential downpour outside. I have an umbrella in my hand that is peeing off water at an incredible rate and I am listening to my MP3 player. I hit the "up" button on the elevator. I stand and wait, sopping wet.

Then suddenly, this woman comes into view, waving like I was going off to war. I get my shirt soaked by removing my headphones and she goes, "Good morning!"

Sean's external reply, "Hey."

Sean's internal reply, "Good morning? GOOD MORNING? I removed my god damn headphones, getting myself SOAKED so that your smug fat ass can say, 'Good morning!' Are you a MOTHER F'ING RETARD?!"

If you want to tell me that the office has blown up, feel free to interrupt me as this woman did - I'd be glad for the information. If, however, you say a flippant "good morning" to me and I am listening to my headphones so I don't hear you...

Take.
a.
fucking.
hint.


WHY do people make going through life as a complete and utter asshole so much work?

*Speaking of otters and similar creatures, I am giving even MORE serious consideration to getting a ferret (or even two so they can keep each other company while I'm at work). Probably won't do it until Christmas, but it's likely gonna happen.

So, my boss is quite popular in our office because during the summer months, he constantly brings in tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, etc., from his home garden. I usually only take peppers, since I can't stand tomatoes or eggplant or the occasional zucchini. It's well known that he does it a couple times a week, so the sharks are constantly circling...
...it was recently discovered that he had cancer. Sad, I know.
Anyway, he has been on leave for about a month and a half. He's doing alright, as far as I know. He still appears on the odd Sunday, and still brings in his vegetables. And people come in Monday morning and are all, "Woah! Veggies!!"
I sit right beside the spot that the veggies occupy and if I hear "Who brought in the tomatoes?" as an attempt at small talk before people greedily shovel 5-6 into their oily palms...I'm gonna fucking scream.

"Who brought these in?"

"Who's are these?"

"Can I take some?"

"Did you bring these in?"

"Who's tomatoes?"

"What are these?"

"These look beautiful...who's are they?"



FUCK.
THE.
HELL.
OFF.




P.S. In writing this blog entry, the most annoying man in the office, this Asian Fucksmith that can't take the hint that I find him mind-numbingly boring...and continues to yammer on at length as the snot crustifies around the corner of my mouth from trying to choke myself on my own phlegm. ARGH.

Rant over...

Hey y'all...pretty cruddy day in Toronto today; clouded over and muggy. Gonna watch some Eastenders and then head up for a swim (I'm a bore, I know). Don't fret, however, I'll be going out shopping today sometime.

Was at home all night last night, just didn't feel like going out. Managed to take in a few episodes of Dallas between trips to the balcony.

The Lost Child - Bobby and Ray hire a new ranchhand who is a drifter with a young son that Bobby takes a shine to. Sue Ellen begins seeing a psyciatrist about her marriage. JR is suspicious and has her tailed by a private eye - when he finds out that she's going to the one psychiatrist in Dallas that could get her in bed, he gets annoyed. Pam falls off her horse and loses the baby. She tells Bobby about her hereditary condition. Digger and Cliff show up at the hospital. Cliff tells Digger that he DOES have a grandchild - JR Ewing III. Pam and Bobby return to Southfork in time to have to say goodbye to the young ranchhand's son.

Rodeo - Ray receives a letter from Donna Culver, a woman he fell for in Season 1. He puts it in his desk with a large collection of other letters from her. The Ewing Rodeo is about to take place. Sue Ellen and Bobby travel to Fort Worth where Bobby has business. Sue Ellen meets Dusty Farlow, a cowboy and is quite taken with him. Bobby, Ray and Dusty all compete in the rodeo. Digger comes to Southfork against Pam's wishes, to see the child. Miss Ellie takes him. JR notices Sue Ellen spending a lot of time with Dusty and breaks them up, taking Sue Ellen back upstairs to find out why she can't even let him touch her.

Appetizer
Did you sleep good last night?
Yeah, pretty good. Swimming every day is making sleeping a lot more effective. Who'd a thunk it. :)

Soup
What is your current computer desktop image?
One that came with Windows XP - ripply water.

Salad
When was the last time you planted something, what was it and where did it go?
Can't rememb er when I planted something, actually.

Main Course
What's your favorite condiment?
Either HP sauce or honey-mustard.

Dessert
Share a quote that you like, for whatever reason.

"You drove Al Steele to his grave and now you're trying to stab ME in the back?!
...don't FUCK with me fellas!!! This ain't my first time to the rodeo. You don't know what hard feelings are...until I come out PUBLICLY against your product and we'll see how much you SELL! It's a sword...that cuts both ways."

Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford
in Mommie Dearest

I'm continuing to tweak the blog template; I've tried to maintain a standard size of the blog title when visiting other pages, but I'm not entirely sure if it works yet, but I'm tired of trying. I've also created link images, instead of text (because I couldn't get the bullets to match up). You can find the link on the bottom left hand side now...I've also added some pages that I like to visit regularly.

...JUDY!

Tenuta, fag...not Garland.

"My dad was okay. He used to make us hot dog soup. He boil the hot dogs and we'd drink the juice."

Most people remember her for her crinoline, Peurto-Rican-Prom dresses, always handy I.U.D. (squeezebox) and very LOUD delivery. I can actually understand why some people immediately vomit upon hearing her. Thankfully, I do not...and find her to be a comedic genius of undiscovered proportions.

My mother used to tell me, "Judy, you'll never amount to anything because you procrastinate."
And I said, "Just you wait..."

Anyway, anyway, anyway...enough of a Judy Tenuta tangent.
In between swimming, cleaning the kitchen and making pasta and turkey meat sauce, I managed to take in TWO episodes of Dallas, Season 3. Here we go:

Managed to watch another episode of Dallas last night, after swimming and before my friend Glen came over for our weekly magnum of $12 wine and a Match Game marathon, bookended by episodes of Coronation Street. Did I mention I was gay? Well, I am...not Charles Nelson Reilly Gay, mind you, but I do like some hoonany from a boy. One particular boy, in fact...um, nevermind. Anyway, Glen and I love old 60s and 70s style drunken/rat pack type humour, especially peppered with veiled gay references, so our collective heroes are Brett Somers and the aforementioned Mr. Reilly.

GENE - "I'm going to catch your cold!"
CHARLES - "Not in that outfit..."

Anyway, anyway, anyway...back to my point - in honour of Barbara Bel Geddes unfortunate passing and the release of the latest boxset of Dallas episodes, I'm going to start writing 'mini-recaps' of the ones I watch.

At this moment, however, I'm going to ask that my boyfriend turn away because I really don't want to ruin these for him as I fully intend to go back and rewatch them with his fine self...so ignore the dark text, please. :)

What Ever Happened to Baby John I - Sue Ellen returns from the hospital and JR III stays because he's premature. She doesn't want to know anything about the baby and doesn't really care to speak to anyone. Cliff is determined to get the baby back and Pam is trying to get him to slow down or he'll drive Sue Ellen back to the sanitarium. When Sue Ellen is finally convinced to go to the hospital to see the baby, they find out its been kidnapped.

What Ever Happened to Baby John II - Bobby is convinced that Cliff kidnapped the baby, but is soon proven wrong as Cliff spearheads the effort to find HIS child. Jock kis contacted about retrieving the baby and told to go to City Hall, but this turns out to be a crank call. JR is contacted by Willy Jo Garr (one of the men who were convicted of Julie Grey's murder) and told that he wants a million dollars to secure the release of the baby. Meanwhile, Bobby, Cliff and Pam discover the baby was taken by a woman who'd lost her own premature baby the same day. As JR is about to give Willy Jo the money, Bobby phones and tells him he's got the baby back. JR threatens to kill Willy Jo brandishing a hand gun. Willy Jo swears revenge (one of many red herrings in the who shot JR plotline, actually...fun times).

The Silent Killer - Digger returns and collapses in Cliff's apartment. They discover he has a hereditary disease that both Cliff and Pam carry. It means a child could die within 6 months of being born, much to Pam's dismay. She and Bobby try anyway, as she can't bring herself to tell him. JR III returns home as Sue Ellen is finding that she isn't really into being a mother as much as Pam is. Pam is concered about John Ross' health because of her hereditary disease and the possibility of Cliff being the child's father.

Secrets - Valene (Lucy's mother) returns to Dallas after having been run out by JR in Season 2. She tries to rekindle her relationship with Lucy, but Lucy won't have any part of it (still believing that her mother willingly took the money from JR, when in fact it was a payoff to ensure she never returned). Pam is still torn between telling Bobby about her disease or giving him the child he so desires. She dotes over John Ross which Bobby notices. He cannot understand why she doesn't want to try to have a baby and confronts her. She can't bring herself to tell him. Valene enlists Bobby's help to get through to Lucy. He brings her to visit Lucy at the highschool athletic field, but it spotted by JR. Sue Ellen and JR butt heads again, and he cruelly suggests she pick up drinking again. She also refuses to have anything to do with the baby other than the occasional glance into the crib. JR attempts to railroad Valene out of Dallas again, but is overheard by Bobby and Lucy, at which point the girl forgives her mother.

Turrah! xo

From the Dallas Star

Dallas Star Barbara Bel Geddes Dies at 82
August 10, 2005
By Marc Berman

Barbara Bel Geddes, the veteran stage and screen actress known to millions as matriarch Miss Ellie Ewing on CBS serial Dallas, died Monday of lung cancer at her home in Northeast Harbor, Maine. She was 82-years old.

Born in New York City on Oct. 31, 1922 to noted theatrical designer Norman Bel Geddes, young Barbara made her stage debut at age 18. Her first theatrical role was seven years later in 1947 Henry Fonda drama, The Long Night. One year later, her star rose significantly as Katrin Hanson in beloved family drama, I Remember Mama, which resulted in an Academy Award nomination for Outstanding Supporting Actress. Other notable movie roles included Elia Kazan drama Panic in the Streets (1950), Alfred Hitchcock thriller Vertigo (1958) and The Five Pennies opposite Danny Kaye in 1959.

At the same time, Bel Geddes was making a name for herself on the small screen with guest appearances on Robert Montgomery Presents, Toast of the Town, On Trial, and Studio One. Fans of anthology Alfred Hitchcock Presents will remember Bel Geddes as the sweet widow/murderer in the episode titled, “Lamb to the Slaughter.” She was also nominated for Tony Awards as Best Dramatic Actress for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in 1956, and Mary, Mary in 1961.

When CBS announced it was producing a new limited series in 1978 called Dallas, critics took notice upon hearing Bel Geddes had signed on for the role as kind but stern Miss Ellie Ewing. Although the initial order was for just six episodes, Dallas went on to become one of the most popular dramas in the history of television, running for 13-years, and spawning Knots Landing, which actually ran for one season longer.

After leaving her Emmy winning role on Dallas in 1984 after six seasons, Bel Geddes returned in 1985 (following Donna Reed’s ill-fated turn as Miss Ellie) and stayed with the serial for another five years.

Her final on-camera appearance was in 1997 documentary, Obsessed with Vertigo.

...well, last night I ran from work like a schoolgirl in heat towards a Tigerbeat release party and purchased the Dallas Season 3 Box Set. HOT DAMN, Y'ALL!!

I thought I would go into why I love this show so much. I have two god-parents, Kathie and Wayne, who live outside of a small town in Northern Ontario. The town itself is small, but they live in a 'suburb' of sorts...population under 100. They're best friends with my mother and father and are truly salt-of-the-earth people. Friendly, warm, caring, everything.

They have a house, which Wayne built, on the side of a small pond and a huge piece of property. Behind their house is an immense (or what seemed to a 7 year old to be immense) forested area that I always knew contained bears and all sorts. Scared the shit out of me once it got dark. There was a sand hill that led to a sand quarry of sorts, a part of the hill that had fallen apart and looked like the aftermath of a sand avalanche.

The pond used to be boring and unswimmable as it was covered with loon poo on the bottom. "Loon poo" isn't a technical term, and doesn't actually mean loon feces, it just means the bottom of a lake or pond that FEELS like that. Fuzzy. Squishy. Revolting. There weren't even any fish as far as I can remember, but it did provide a hot bed of frog activity; lifting rocks to find the little tiny ones that looked miniscule in my then smallish hands.

Before they had the large house, they used to live in a moveable house. Not a trailer, but a rectangular house that was 'delivered' rather than built. It was surprisingly large on the inside and had a huge cast iron fire place that was really fucking cool in the wintertime.

In the actual winter months, the entire place became even more strange and enjoyable for a child. Their sand hill became the greatest sliding hill ever. Period. It also was the most insurmountable hill to climb...ever. Many a time I went down on a Flying Saucer and was whipped into the air, landing on my stomach and thinking that I had died because I had the wind knocked out of me. I'd cry like the little bitch that I was and then my brother, or cousin Clint, would take me inside and pass me off to my mother or aunt and then they'd give me hot chocolate as sat there, trying to feed their hamster a stick of wood.

The inside of the house had at least TWO dreamcatchers which I used to find strangely fascinating...and those early 80s crystals that reflected rainbows were in every sun-exposed window. My cousin Clint had a stuffed animal doll of...oddly...Animal, from the Muppets, that I always endeavoured to capture and steal, but never managed to get up the balls to do.

Soon enough, I'd be bored and feel ignored (as most restless children do) and I'd go outside to try sliding again or just running around the yard with Pepper, their old dog. They had many friends that used to come over, but usually not any other children. One couple, however, did have kids in between the ages of my brother and I. A younger daughter and an older son...fun people who usually came over when my family was visiting.

With so many children watching each other, it was natural for our parents to assume we'd be fine just supervising ourselves as we frolicked outside, jumping in and out of snow drifts and sliding down the hill. They always used to warn us to stay away from the pond as it was never completely frozen (it was a resevoir of sorts; being fed by a well, and travelling under the street through a somewhat complicated aquaduct process to a pond on the other side). As a child I never understood why, but I knew there was a section of the pond that had running water shooting out a tube; not very powerful, but enough to keep the ice very thin or non-existent.

One night, however, I decided I wanted some attention (not conciously, of course) and I ventured out by the pond; the other kids within a safe visible distance. I started playing with a stick on the ice and noticed that it seemed pretty stable to me.

"Grownups just want kids to be bored, like them. Going out on the ice is fun and that's why they say not to do it. Stupid adults." At this point in my inner monologue, I had managed to creep out about 5-6 feet towards the middle of the pond and was having a rip roaring time.

"Those stupid grownups don't know what they're mis-"

As I plunged through the ice, I realized that walking on ice left a lot to be desired and that whoever had told me it was fun didn't really understand how much I didn't find death amusing...

...I don't remember the timeline, but I'm sure that one of the other kids bolted inside to scream at the parents to save my sorry ass. I do know that it felt like an eternity and that I couldn't breath, even with my head above water - it was so cold that I felt like someone had stuck me in a tube just big enough to fit, but not to take in air. I rememeber looking up and seeing the ice from underneath at one point. And I remember being yanked out of the water like Superman ripping off Lois Lane's car door in Superman: The Movie. I don't recall who pulled me out, though, but I know they ran me inside and threw me in the tub. There was a lot of swearing and my mother freaking out.

Anyway, anyway, anyway...that's my most vivid memory of that place, aside from travelling their on Friday nights - we used to live about 1.5 hours away from their house and my parents would go up at least once or twice a month. We'd go up on Friday night and return Sunday afternoon. Upon arriving on Friday, it would be about 8-9, and my 'rents would always sit down and watch Dallas with my god-'rents and I'd chill out and watch it with them.

I had no idea what the show was about and being 7-8, I generally fell asleep towards the end. I did, however, remember one thing: the theme song. I remember hoping we'd get there in time to hear that song and watch those credits.

It stuck with me forever.

Then when TNN started rerunning the episodes in the early 90s, started actually watching and fell in love with it on a whole other level...the backstabbing melodrama, the catty lines, the vicious business deals, the underhanded wheeling and dealing of JR Ewing, etc, etc, etc.

Anyhow...the newest release of Season 3 on DVD is GREAT fun. Sue Ellen returns home from the hospital after John Ross III is born, only to have her child kidnapped, Pam finds out she has a hereditary disease and then that she's pregnant, only to lose the baby AGAIN, Ray meets up with Donna Culver, and they rekindle their romance, Kristin Shepherd, Sue Ellen's sister, returns to stir up some shit at South Fork, Miss Ellie gets cancer, Jock gets shot, Lucy gets engaged to Alan Beam, Sue Ellen begins her affair with Dusty Farlow, and then JR gets shot to end the season in the greatest cliffhanger ever. Period.

Sweet.


"Don't look so glum, Lucy. Rich people are always happy." - J.R. Ewing

Oh yes, speaking of - I discovered the very moist-making intrigue (in more ways than one) of the pool in my apartment building. It's rarely used at the time I go up, so it's great fun to be an old lady and just float in the water getting annoyed at any stray children that enter. I had been under the impression that it was a lap pool - only 3 feet deep, but it turns out that it's got a shallow end and a deep end; which isn't really that deep, but it's deep enough to make swimming fun. :) YAY!

Was walking to work this morning with the boyfriend - he came last night for a Rufus Wainright concert and met my friends Derek, Ian and I for a drink. It was a drink for him...several for us. The tables had turned...

No matter. He's still cuter than I am; especially when I'm drunk off my ass and pawing at him like some priest at a Blue Boy convention.

We were walking to work after getting Starfucks and I was tired from the night before, slightly hungover, but in good spirits. We crossed a street illegally and after yelling at the driver, I seemed to calm down. We then continued on our way, with M telling me some dumb shit about it being better to get across than to make a point to some driver and die in the process. Yeah. Right.

Anyway, anyway, anyway...we're strolling on our merry way and this homeless woman is walking in the opposite direction, straight towards us. She looks at his coffee and goes (through blackened teeth), "I'll take that!" And let's out this grunt-like noise that I think was supposed to be a laugh and continues walking past. He laughs slightly and I go, "Yeah, and I'll take a bath!"

I am going to hell...and I like it.

The Thundercats villain of the day is Sslythe, the lizard Mutant from Planet Plun-darr. Together with Monkian and Jackleman, he travelled with a convoy of mutant ships to hunt down the Thundercats and the other survivors of the doomed Planet Thundera. They managed to destroy all the ships but one, the royal yacht, which subsequently crash landed on Third Earth.
The mutants followed and also crash landed on the planet. They built Castle Plund-arr, a secret base from which to launch their endless (and generally fruitless) assaults on the Thundercats, Cat's Lair and most other peace-loving Third Earthers.
Until the appearance of Ratarro, it is assumed that Sslythe is the leader of the mutants, but it is obvious that he is not once the Rat Leader appears in the two part "Feliner" episode.
Slythe is a brute with little brains and uses as many "s" sounds as possible, thereby reinforcing for the retarded children in the audience that he is indeed a lizard and most likely a closet homosexual.

That sentence is gross.

My friend and former roomie Nicole (I think the only person I have lived with that I am still friends with - actually, no...there's Jeff, who I'm still close with...nevermind). We hung out, got loaded, then stoned and just chilled out and laughed. The usual.
Saturday we got up early and went for breakfast at Fran's. Nice greasy spoon-type meal, more food than I should have had...yadda, yadda.
Then Nicole offered to drive me to Waterloo - as I was supposed to be going to visit
M. SCORE! So we go back home, I pack and we're off.
Spent Saturday lounging in and out of the pool in various states of intoxication, none of which held a candle to the boyfriend who looked more and more like Karen Allen in Radiers of the Lost Ark during her introduction scene. Sexier, though. Nice...
Had a terrific day, although the headache I received in the middle of the night was not fun.
It did make me realize, however, that I need a pool. I need one. I have to get one. I need a pool or some other sort of large water receptacle; like a hole or large teacup.
BTW, have you seen the greatest teapot ever...? For sale at IKEA. It comes with the tea strainer built in. I have been informed that this is common place, but seeing it three months ago, sitting on the shelf at the Etobicoke IKEA, was the equivalent of a caveman seeing fire for the first time.
I need to get it but cannot justify purchasing it when I have a gorgeous Chinese one from my aunt who taught in Hong Kong during the late 70s. I also have a perfectly functional tea strainer already. *sigh*

And yes, I know there are children in hot countries without the benefit of tea strainers or teapots...so shut up.

Back to my point - had a wicked time, swimming for 4 hours straight was KICK ASS. Also, the boyfriend's friends are all enjoyable and friendly, aside from one hiccup - I found out later the person wasn't a friend of his. LOL Sweet.

I feel like writing about Thundercats again...

In keeping, I'm gonna talk more about the Thundercats. BLOOOOOW ME.

I've been watching the 130 episodes I have downloaded - I'm at about Episode 26, I think...long way to go - phew!

For those of you who don't know what Thundercats is, or what they are, or what it's about...die.

The Thundercats are a group of elite, high-society members that escaped their planet's destruction (a la Krypton in Superman The Movie). The convoy of mish-mashed ships (a la Battlestar Galactica) is attacked on route to Third Earth, the nearest planet that is habitable. The attackers are the Mutants from the planet Plun-darr (!) who are divided into different classes, based on species (a la Planet of the Apes) - Slythe, a lizard; Monkian, a monkey; and Jackleman, a jackal. They also later added Vultureman, a vulture (a la Spiderman's namesake villain) later on. All the convoy ships are destroyed and the Thundercats leader, Jaga, must sacrifice himself while the others are in hypersleep (a la Alien) and he appears as a ghostly apparition (a la Star Wars). The ship crash lands on the distant planet and the Thundercats become friendly with the strange natives to ensure everyone's mutual survival (a la Enemy Mine).

It is a pretty original idea, as you can see.

The Thundercats consist of Wilykit and Wilykat, the youngest, who are known for their cunning (or wiliness for the idiots who couldn't draw that connection);


Tygra, the homoerotic, studly intellectual (who is a tiger, duh) and who has the ability to turn himself invisible (like most tigers). He is the architect and scientist of the group.


Then we have Cheetara, the only adult female, who has the ability to run at the speed of light, apparently (she nearly always has warping streaks, a la Star Trek, following her running). I guess being the only sexually viable female in the Thundercats, the ability to run like the wind keeps one sane. By the way, she's a Cheeta. *cough* She is the psychic of the group (a la Star Trek: The Next Generation)


Panthro, the "Deadly" (apparently)...is the muscle behind the group, the heavy, the one who beats the shit out of people. He is also their armament specialist.


Then we have Lion-O, the "leader" of the Thundercats. Through the death of his mentor, Lion-O is thrust into power as a teenager and must deal - get this - with not only teenage angst, but the stresses of leading a band of Thundercats on an unexplored planet. I don't envy Lion-O, let me tell you.


Lion-O is constantly followed by Snarf. He is, for all intents and purposes, Lion-O's dog. He is also his nanny and acts like his nagging, annoying, bitch-of-a-wife.


Jaga is the original leader of the Thundercats and father to Lion-O. He assumes and Obi-Wan Kenobi type role and appears when Lion-O makes an immature decision, which is most of the god damn time.


Coming into Season 2 of the Thundercats, they decided they needed to make more money - which means, more toys - which means, more Thundercats.

They added 3 new Thundercats, who ALSO escaped Thundera's destruction, but were hitherto never mentioned before. They were rescued by a conveniently close travelling Berbil freighter which then crashed landed on a remote island in an ocean on Third Earth. How fortuitous, huh?

The first of the three is Lynx-O, who's appearance reeks of a "Very Special Episode" of Thundercats. He's blind and teaches everyone that you don't to have sight to be considered useful...did we ever think otherwise? Anyway...he's a lynx...coz there are very few recognizable subspecies of cat left to mine for character designs.


The second is Pumyra - a puma, you asshole. She has no discernible skill other than as sperm receptacle relief for Cheetara.


Lastly, we have Bengali - the white Bengal tiger. Added as a tribute to Zeigfried and Roy, no doubt - he is essentially Tygra painted white, with just as many homoerotic overtones. At least Tygra has a JO buddy now...


Together, this group defends Third Earth from the evil of the Mutants and Mumm-ra, the Ever Living.



...well that wasted 10 minutes. :) ...more later.