Personally, a wonderful decade. Globally ... actually, I hope the door did hit it in the ass on the way out. Hard.

It is the afternoon of New Years Eve. I am at work turning legal documents into web-friendly HTML documents and need a little break from all those UL and OL tags before I go a little cross-eyed. Also, it's almost a new decade! The oughts are nearly done with! It seems appropriate to go back and have a look at the things that have happened to me during the last decade, if only to act as a time capsule of that part of my life.

( My Life in Summary, From 2000 to 2009 )

There are many other little tiny things that fit inbetween and overlap across those bigger things up there that have made me who I am right now and who I'd like to be during the next decade. Laid out like that with sentences and commas and periods, it seems a little scattershot and transitionless, and maybe it was in places. I have learned new things about the world, about my place in it, and about me and how my brain works. I created the person I thought I wanted to be, for good or ill, and now I think it's time to start over again. Maybe not completely, maybe not entirely, but there are some things I chose to become that I find don't fit the way I thought they would now that I'm wearing them.

But that's a post for tomorrow and a new decade. Happy New Year, all! May those who have struggled through 2009 find something better in 2010, and may those who succeeded in 2009 continue to do so as we enter the next chapter of the 21st century.

I just got a poke from the art show at Chattacon, which turns out to be the weekend AFTER MarsCon, at which I'm the Artist Guest o' Honor.

Marscon is in Williamsburg, Virginia. I'd already be on the road.

But I have no idea about the show.

And I could come back through Greensboro & Ashville (which I've always wanted to see), and mebbe set up some kind of book thing in both places.

So, who's been? How many people attend? Is it gonna be worth me being on the road an extra week?

Thanks for your insights!

I'm late with this commentary because the holidays are a notoriously busy time for me and mine, and this is less commentary than it is linkspam for the same reason.

On Christmas day, a man tried to explode the plane he was on using a bomb in his underwear. His actions were thwarted by a bomb that didn't work properly and other passengers, but perhaps predictably (and disappointingly if you think like me) the TSA dumped a whole pile of arbitrary new flight dos and don'ts on the heads of travelers at this, the peak travel season. These rules included, among other things, a restriction on passenger movement during the last hour of travel over American airspace. For the last hour of travel, passengers are not permitted to use blankets, pillows, laptops, the in-flight televisions, or move about the cabin at all. The only thing passengers are permitted to do for the last hour of travel, it seems, is to sit perfectly upright in their seats with their hands on the arm rests.

I am not afraid of terrorists when I fly. Not even a little bit. Partly because the chances of being killed by a terrorist while in a plane is 1 in 10 million, but mostly because being afraid to fly -- being afraid to carry on the every-day actions of my life -- is how terrorists win, and I'm stubborn enough and proud enough and some might say stupid enough to defy those people who prey on my fear.

You know what I am afraid of, though? A country and a society that responds to 1 in 10 million odds with nonsensical security theatre that restricts my right to fucking pee. Every time we give up a right -- even a tiny, seemingly insignificant one -- the terrorists win. We beg not for real security, but for a pacifier of safety to suck on, and for it we'll give up anything and that terrifies me. It terrifies me, and enrages me, and frankly it offends me.

And now? Two bloggers are being subpoenaed for posting the wackadoo new TSA protocols.

Anyway. Fuck you, TSA.

January

Grammardog wishes she would happen upon an angry dance-off.

Grammardog's freezer hurts.

Grammardog + kittens = TLF

Grammardog: SPACE OMG

Grammardog to Dubya: Don't let the world reflect on your hideous legacy on the way out!

Grammardog: It's coming to America first, the cradle of the best and the worst

Grammardog is a pretty good person, really.

February

Grammardog sometimes can't believe that an animal lives in her house. WE ARE ROOMMATES.

Grammardog got older, alright.

Grammardog wishes someone would just take her bowling, already.

Grammardog wants every song to sound like this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmBgxP56R1I

March

Grammardog has a lot of work to do tonight. So if you could start a Lexulous game with me, that'd be great.

Grammardog doesn'tcareifyoujust DRIIIIIIIIVE A TRUCK!

Grammardog will excommunicate whoever she dang well pleases.

Grammardog is going to London to visit the... Michael Jackson.

Grammardog: What fresh hell is this?

Grammardog: Dirty Diana - no! Dirty Diana - yeah! Dirty Diana - sort of! Dirty Diana - PROBABLY!

Grammardog: Why can't I vacuum?

Grammardog: You finally did it, Kelly Clarkson. You made me love you. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW

April

Grammardog: Note to self: never look at diabetes-related amputations on Youtube again.

Grammardog: Hanson + Christmas episode of Melrose Place = head explosion.

Grammardog: Be the wizard, Stephen. Be the wizard.

Grammardog: If Carrie Underwood sings "I Told You So" in the forest and I'm not around to hear it, does it still make my ears bleed?

Grammardog: It might be time to start wearing peacock feathers in my hair.

Grammardog: You like this.

Grammardog: Goodnight, Pussycat.

Grammardog: These passive-aggressive status updates have to stop... YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Grammardog: I guess there are some new, uh, super-enthusiastic bongo players to my neighborhood. WELCOME, FELLOWS.

May

Grammardog: Sara took the quiz "Which Facebook Status Update Are You?" and the answer is: This One

Grammardog: A juice box broke open in my backpack. I should: a) empty the backpack and clean it and everything in it b) hire someone external to deal with it c) throw the whole thing away d) just start running away from my life and never look back

Grammardog: Day 1 of NSGEU Convention: Delegates, sadly, do not get to shout "AYE".

Grammardog: Day 2 of NSGEU Conference: I voted. And voted. AND VOTED.

Grammardog: Dear Downstairses: Here is an example of a bad time to start playing Rock Band - approaching midnight on a Wednesday.

Grammardog: Saw Hunger. Will never be hungry again.

Grammardog: What: Door-slamming party. Where: The Downstairses. When: Every night, midnight-5:45 am. BYO Frat Boy Yelling WOOOOO.

Grammardog: I just lost.

Grammardog: Invite me to a barbeque.

Grammardog: Once a day, don't you wanna throw the towel in?

Grammardog: Raisin Bran: The first bowl is the worst bowl.

June

Grammardog: And now for something completely different...

Grammardog: Nova Scotia: It's VOTING DAY.

Grammardog: An NDP MAJORITY?!? Why, yes... we will have that cake. And we will EAT THAT CAKE, AS WELL.

Grammardog: I hid under your porch because I love you.

Grammardog: YESSSSS... back to The Nature of Things!

Grammardog: Schlobster for schlupper.

Grammardog: If I were a carpenter/and you were my bff/I'd build you a giant shelf/to put all your crap on

Grammardog: Dear Metro Transit: people who don't own cars ALSO enjoy the beach. Why not try a bus route that goes to one? P.S. NOVA SCOTIA IS A PENINSULA IT AIN'T THAT HARD.

Grammardog: Dear The Sobeys in my Backyard: Baking cinnamon rolls at 2 am? Really? Must you?

Grammardog: Dear Downstairses: When I banged that shoe on the floor in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, I didn't mean you should switch from electric guitar to acoustic.

Grammardog: Someone start a Lexulous game with me, for the love of Pete.

July

Grammardog: If media coverage of Michael Jackson's death can teach us anything, hopefully it is that Michael is not spelled Micheal.

Grammardog: Oh, I've seen rain and I've seen rain/I've seen rainy days that I thought would never end/I've seen rainy days when I could not believe the rain/But I always thought that I'd rain rain rain rain

Grammardog: THE SUN.

Grammardog: Paul McCartney ain't no joke, son.

Grammardog: No one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike

Grammardog: This just in: God prefers Paul McCartney to KISS and thinks you should, too.

Grammardog: "Don't say you're sorry; just don't do it." - Mr. Casavechia

Grammardog: Just another July evening snuggled up in front of the roaring electric heater.

Grammardog: NO.

August

Grammardog: MCNULTY! You stop that RIGHT NOW.

Grammardog: Number of times today that a fruit fly has flown into my eye in such a way as to require manual extraction: 2

Grammardog: RSSU CAMPS '09 in T-24:00

Grammardog: Grammardog is updating her Facebook status, and that is what the rest of you are doing, too.

Grammardog: WHO OWNS THIS.

Grammardog: I'm moving tomorrow...?

Grammardog: All I had lost was found.

Grammardog has a craft room.

Grammardog misses Bea Arthur. Both of them.

Grammardog just felt a cool breeze come in through the window. SARA PELLERIN LIKES THIS.

Grammardog: going to London brb

Grammardog: Still on Leoncie watch.

Grammardog: Supposed to be seeing Michael Jackson tonight. Sigh.

Grammardog: Just did my budget. Yep, my vacation is definitely over.

Grammardog: Your friends think if you're sad you should call them more.

Grammardog: Happiness is finding a brand new Cranium at the Sally Ann for 3.99.

Grammardog: I need a friend who can drill holes in a) glass, and b) stone. Who amongst you?

September

Grammardog: The truth is that I don't give a dang how you put the toilet paper roll on.

Grammardog makes the rockin' world go round.

Grammardog loves the mountains, she loves the clear blue skies.

Grammardog loves September so hard.

Grammardog just found her high school yearbook and realized she looks more like the teachers than the graduating class.

Grammardog: Cheesie cheesie lover, they've got a hold on me, believe it.

Grammardog has 3 lbs of perfectly ripe peaches. What should she bake?

Grammardog: Dear The Singer Who Lives Next Door: Louder doesn't make it better.

Grammardog will be sitting at her pottery wheel this evening and hoping for the best.

Grammardog: Ooo-arrrghhhh! Waitin' for Sally to make her landin' here, the scurvy bilge rat.

Grammardog: GLEE! Oh em gee!

October

Grammardog: Sally, you left your Lindt chocolate truffles at my house. I mean... there were none left.

Grammardog wishes it would rain. Oh, hang on a sec... it's actually going to rain until next Sunday. So.

Grammardog: HONEYCRISP!

Grammardog: Facebook is giving me Addition-Elle advertisements. How does it know I'm fat?

Grammardog: Inventory of Facebook quizzes blocked: 1) "What zodiac sign are you" 2) "What zodiac sign are you REALLY" 3) "Seriously what zodiac sign are you"

Grammardog is jealous of all you friggers with turkeys on the go.

Grammardog: Public Service Announcement: IT IS EGGNOG SEASON

Grammardog finally understands the human tendency toward partnership after trying to: a) wind a skein of wool into a ball, and b) remove the leaf from the kitchen table by herself.

Grammardog marks 23 years of the 'betes today, and is thankful for the friendships and experiences and s'mores and Junior Juices it has brought me.

Grammardog: Dear Yahoo Mail: E-mail messages from MYSELF are not spam. K thx.

Grammardog: An entire pomegranate for dinner seemed like a good idea at the time.

Grammardog loves her nephew so, so much.

Grammardog: How to make your own day: 1. Start breadmaker. 2. Resume normal activities. 3. Hours later, smell something amazing and suddenly remember where it's coming from.

Grammardog: How to put a crimp in your day: 1. Begin painting living room. 2. Wonder if paint fumes are what's making you feel vaguely nauseous. 3. Realize your paint is the same colour as your childhood barf bucket.

Grammardog: Dear Internet: I would like a Wilco ticket, but you provide few clues as to how to buy one.

Grammardog is surprised to find that sitcoms are still as bad as they always were.

Grammardog: welcome back summer never leave again pls baby pls i need u so much

Grammardog cried her way through "This Is It" tonight.

Grammardog is the popular social networking site known as Bookface.

November

Grammardog: Favourite spam subject line ever: "Be a master of in-out. Let manhood soar through the roof."

Grammardog: I lost my To-Do list today while Doing. I guess I'm done...?

Grammardog: It's Bea Arthur's and my anniversary! Two years of owner/living property bliss. A CARD WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE.

Grammardog: I'm fifteen seconds into the first episode of Mad Men and I'm ready to declare my everlasting love. Premature?

Grammardog: Dear Halifax retailers: I just want to purchase a Downy ball. Please?

Grammardog: Uh oh. Sore throat, suddenly. Is this It?

Grammardog: Bea Arthur gakked a hairball during my two minutes of silence today. Lest I forget. About him. For two minutes.

Grammardog: Swine '09.

Grammardog: The Swine Flu: Making people go to bed at 7:30 since 2009.

Grammardog weighs carefully the pros and cons of liking your Facebook status.

Grammardog will stay up till this dump shines, like the top of the Chrysler building.

Grammardog is bigger than a breadbox.

December

Grammardog remembers reading about those tribes in Africa that communicate only by clicking at each other. In related news, I'm quitting the Like button.

Grammardog might as well tell you now that you're not getting a Christmas card.

Grammardog is cleaning the floor, her beat is correct.

Grammardog is wearing her laundry day underwear, and yet, not doing any laundry. What will tomorrow bring?

Grammardog loves her family.

Grammardog is still thinking about how her first cup of coffee made her feel.

Grammardog: Still... pretty good year.

A successful marriage is basically an endless cycle of wrongs committed, apologies offered, and forgiveness granted, all leavened by the occasional orgasm.

And via damned_colonial, the OTHER entry for "best line of the week":

TSA: your post-equine-departure gate and barn security experts.

Sticks and Strings tomorrow night!


8PM, Arrow & Loon (Bank & Fifth). Be there or be a mouldy pop tart.

...and of course, it’s not like what I was told I was supposed to want. Here’s the truth of it:

I don’t much care about sitting in bookstores behind a table for 4 hours, alone & weird & uncomfortable. I don’t wanna do book shows – I don’t know those folks, they don’t know me, and it’ll take forever to get Lightsurfing out to them’s that might benefit from it.

Here’s what I DO want (I’m a little nervous about this idea, but I’ll get over it):

I wanna come visit. I want to hang out in your living room at parties that you might be having anyway, only I’ll have some books & art to sell. I want to read a couple of stories that I’d be telling anyway, and have people laugh, or cry, or get good juicy ideas for the cool stuff they’ve been wanting to do.

I want to answer questions about being an artist, or a writer, or a sky-diving ballet dancer. I want to talk about how making a living this way is not so very different than any other small business, and how a painter paying the mortgage with what comes out of her paintbrush has more in common with the guy that owns the bar down the street than she thinks.

I want to talk about marketing, and branding, and professionalism, and how all this stuff is absolutely necessary if you really want to make go of it on your own.

I want to share stories about community, and tribe, & rebuilding a life and a self in the wake of disaster.

Then, hopefully, people will be inspired to get a book or some art so I can make it to the next place. I’ll crash on the sofa, we’ll have a cuppa caffeine the next morning, and I’ll head down the road. I’d be like a traveling minstrel without the singing (except sometimes I sing. Mostly in the shower.)

People have been asking me these kinds of questions for years, but it’s always been at festivals when I’m trying to talk to (or paint) a thousand other people & can’t focus on the serious discussion at hand. This plan would fix that.

But, I can only do this if you guys are up for it. I talked to Pacita about putting together a tour of sorts to wrap around the conventions & festivals I already do. There’s just gonna be too much back & forth to hammer out all the details – it’s a job in itself. So, let me know if you’d be up for hosting one of these, and pop off an email to ‘cita at pacita AT materialis DOT com.

Who’s in?

Internets rejoice, for it is _thirty2flavors' birthday!

I feel a madcap post full of wacky gifs would be fitting, but since that's just not my thing, I instead point you here and here for appropriate birthday gif-flail and beg forgiveness for not being the gify-type. ;)

Have a good day, Kali! You win at everything. :D :D

Day 06 → Whatever tickles your fancy


Jekyll & Hyde - Bring on the Men

There was a time
I don't know when
I didn't have much time for men
but this is now and that was then, I'm learning

A girl alone, all on her own
must try to have a heart of stone
So I try not to make it known my yearning
I try to show I have no need
I really do, I don't succeed

so let's bring on the men
and let the fun begin
a little touch of sin
why wait another minute
step this way its time for us to play
they say we may not pass this way again
so lets waste no more time
Bring on the men

I always knew, I always said
that silk and lace in black and red
will drive a man right off his head, its easy

So many men, so little time
I want them all, is that a crime (NO!)
I dont know why they say that I'm too easy
They make me laugh, they make me cry
they make me sick, so god knows why

we say bring on the men
and let the fun begin
a little touch of sin
why wait another minute
step this way its time for us to play
they say we may not pass this way again
so lets waste no more time
bring on the men

They break your heart
they steal your soul
take you apart
and yet they somehow make you whole
so whats their game
I suppose a rose by any other name
the perfume and the pricks the same

I like to have a man for breakfast each day
I'm very social and I like it that way
by late mid-morning I need something to munch
so I ask over 2 men for lunch

And men are mad about my afternoon 'tease'.
they're quite informal I just do it to please
those tripple sandwiches are my favorite ones
I'm also very partial to buns

My healthy appetite gets strongest at night
My at home dinners are my men friends delight
When I invite the fellas over to dine
they all come early, in bed by nine!

so lets bring on the men
and let the fun begin
a little touch of sin
why wait another minute
step this way it's time for us to play
they say we may not pass this way again
so lets waste no more time
bring on the men!



thinking about doing a playlist of songs talking about the awesomeness of sex with more than one person, specifically at a time. Two Ladies (cabaret), 3 (britney spears), i know there are others... hmn...

anyway, listening to a random sexy playlist tonight and wanted to share this one with you all. it's a bit of a copout, but hey, it tickles my fancy.

it's also very ME.

http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2009/11/27/

this. right here.


it's so true.

i love when people force me to 'check the back.' i get to go to the basement, see what bitchin cd they get to listen to down there, and have a tiny fun conversation. it's a breath of air before going back onto the shop floor full of assholes who don't believe me, the computer, or my OTHER three coworkers who already said we were sold out.

I'm not such a big supporter of New Year's resolutions. Still, it's hard not to feel, in those few days after Christmas when you're cleaning up the tree and taking down ornaments and swearing off any more fudge even though it's still there on the counter saying "oh, why the hell not!", as though you're approaching a momentous turn in the road, after which the sun will be shining and you'll take off running like a gazelle and it'll be all downhill slopes and the wind will be at your back and you'll make every right choice.

My only resolution for 2009 was to stay out of Wal-Mart, and should I be able to hold out these last few days, I will have accomplished it. Possibly the only New Year's resolution I have ever kept. It wasn't difficult, except for that time I wanted a Downy ball (but ask and ye shall receive a special import from the USA), so I will go for it again in 2010.

A Christmas Eve photo from my parents' place:



This afternoon, Sally, my friend Jen and I are going to see Nine, which, disappointingly, is receiving pretty terrible reviews, however, it is a musical and a Daniel Day-Lewis vehicle, and those are the things that really matter. Thirty-nine percent on Rotten Tomatoes, though... yeesh. There are so many things I want to see out right now... I cannot miss Up In The Air, and Avatar is apparently not to be missed, either, even though I laughed out loud at the awfulness of the trailer. Seriously, am I considering that nightmare? Respected friends and moviegoers, chime in, keeping in mind that I hate sci-fi and fantasy stories with the fire of a thousand suns. Also, what happened to A Single Man... has it been and gone? I'm out of the loop.

I ordered three of the same bra from Sears yesterday. I am one hundred years old.

My parents surprised me with a slow cooker for Christmas! As the manufacturer suggested, I visited their website for recipes and found the most miserable selection imaginable. Soup recipes that called for cans of soup, and so on. Now, I'm not too food snobby to eat canned foods, but I'll be damned if I make a homemade soup out of a can of soup. I have already sent Hamilton Beach my feedback telling them to put their backs into it a little.

If anyone has any delicious slow cooker recipes to share, lay 'em on me.

I am totally suffering from Christmas bloat. I am concerned about my work pants fitting on Tuesday. My sister-in-law made brown sugar fudge yesterday and it pushed me over the edge. Although it was a lovely holiday, I am glad to be back at my apartment where I feel somewhat more inclined to eat in a way that doesn't completely contradict Canada's Food Guide. Like the rest of the Western world, I intend to get back to the gym shortly. I am terrified of how totally awful it's going to be. I feel like I need some kind of physical rehab program... my muscles are all atrophied.