Avast, me hearties!

This be the day dedicated to talkin' like them salty sea-goin' scallywags. Give yer hearties a mighty "yaaaaar!" today. Work that thromborax!

Not sure how? Watch and learn.


And a little something... for the chiiildren

From the recesses of my apparently dirty mind

Hello there! I *am* still alive, and I have all kinds of stories from the last ten days of my life (hooray for holidays!) but I thought I'd share this spectacular little gem first. Even better than river farting, people. Eeeeeven better.

So. I had my friend Peter over to watch a movie last night and managed to spectacularly embarrass myself.

Scene: Two guys out in the wilderness arguing over what to do: Dude 1 tells dude 2 that he's going to disappear into the woods, and that Dude 2 should just go back to Dude 1's wife and tell her her hubby is lost in the woods.

Dude 2: Do what you want! Go out into the wilderness! Fine. Become one with nature. Go hump a sasquatch. Whatever. But I'm not going to lie for you.

Me: Go hump a sasquatch?!?! Really? Cause that's not exactly the logical progression that *I* would think of. Become one with nature. Next step? HUMP A SASQUATCH.

Peter: Umm... I think he said "hunt."

Me: Ah. Well that would make more sense, now, wouldn't it?
*hides head under pillow*

You know you need sleep when...

... you're searching and searching for photos of river rafting in Lytton on Flickr and there are NONE and you're stupefied because SURELY someone has uploaded pictures and so you continue to search and search, checking the spelling of Lytton three or four times, when FINALLY you realize that it's not Lytton you've spelled wrong.

"River farting," anyone?

Inspired by a sink of dirty dishes

It's tough when you don't feel like posting a lot
So I decided to sit and write all in one shot.
Eight posts all at once to entice and amaze
But sheer volume of words just might leave you dazed.

So come back every day to read one or two
Or sit down in one shot and read them all through.
Come visit, leave comments, clickity click
To help you, this link just might do the trick.

You can start with the label I linked to above
To see all at once is one way you might love.
Or you can start with this jolly post here
Like the Choose Your Adventures of yesteryear.

Chronologically speaking, all posts are back-dated -
Hopefully not a practice that's hated.
Now, this rhyming, while grand, has lost most of it's meaning;
Oh well, it's sure fun... and it's kept me from cleaning! :)

True story

My breakfast today consisted of a bowl of cheerios and a palm-sized slab of gingerbread with lots of icing and covered - covered! - in smarties.

And this, folks, is why Christmas and my butt are motal enemies.

*Editied to add, for my American readers: Smarites are like M&M's, but better! They're not the sugary candy... um... pellets? like in the States*

*Also edited to add: My lunch also involves a cheese ball. I'm going straight to the fat farm, aren't I? Sigh.*

Stop! <--- (also a hint)

[Last day of NaBloPoMo! Woohoo! I made it! It was way easier than last year. I guess I'm getting more verbose in my old age? Ha! Ok, obligatory NaBloPoMo comment over. Back to our regularly scheduled programming...]

I was never very sporty when I was growing up. My ginger-haired sister and baby brother always seemed to have more fire in them - more competitive spirit. They were always more into sports than I was. Frankly, I found organized sports just plain scary. I never felt very good at them, and was often intimidated by what I saw as the posh, cliquey societies that surrounded them.

But times are a-changing. I'm still not hugely into team sports, but I am doing things I ever thought I'd do. Backpacking in the mountains. Travelling on my own. Dancing! I guess this Sunday night is just another way I'm trying to spice up my life by doing things I never thought I would. I'm getting so excited!

And by the way? Eighty six of you saw my blog yesterday. Eighty-six different people. And I love you all. But for my three commenters? Jean, Heather, and Melissa, you're the bestest! Sooooo.... you get another day to guess! (Yeah yeah, I realize that that's because nobody really cares, but I'm having fun, so humour me! :P )

NEVER would I have expected this in a million years.

It has to do with somewhere I'm going/something I'm doing on Sunday night. And nope, it doesn't have to do with dancing (well, it does, kinda, but not with my dancing obsession!). And NO, I'm not a wannabe, I'm really gonna have fun!

So I'll tell you what I want... I want you to guess! What am I doing on Sunday night?
I'll reveal the answer tomorrow! (and if you saw it briefly on Facebook, no cheating! ;) )

Diary of a Worm

from a cute kid's book I have in my classroom...

April 10
It rained all night and the ground was soaked. We spent the entire day on the sidewalk.
Hopscotch is a very dangerous game.

May 1
Grandpa taught us that good manners are very important. So today I said "good morning" to the first ant I saw.
There were 600 more of them in line.
I stood there all day.

May 28
Last night I went to the school dance. You put your head in. You put your head out. You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about.
That's all we could do.

June 15
My older sister thinks she's so pretty. I told her no matter how much time she spends looking in the mirror, her face will always look just like her rear end.
Spider thought that was really funny.
Mom did not.

What would YOUR diary entry look like if YOU were a worm???

*grin*

Oh wow.

And as for NaBloPoMo... I'm cutting it a little close, don't ya think?

Yaarg! In my delirium last night I posted at nearly the last minute, then hit save instead of publish and collapsed like the sleep-depraved zombie I was on my bed couch. So I posted. Kinda. I'm counting it. You'd better, too! :P

Oh sweet happy day of joyfulness!

Ok, losing things really sucks. Especially when you KNOW that they are around somewhere, but you just can't seem to find them ANYWHERE. Especially when they are kinda rather important things, like, oh, I don't know, your KEYS. Or things that you just can't get back, like the memory card full of super crazy awesome pictures of the Emerson Drive concert you went to in the summer, pics of your friends from Australia attempting to ride a tandem bike around the seawall in Stanley Park, or of your new classroom all set up and ready to go before the kids came in and destroyed began using it.

The keys have been lost for about a week and a half, and I've been using my spare set, hoping and praying that my original set is in the house somewhere (and not in the hands of some ne'er do well who is waiting for just the right time to come on in and ROB ME BLIND). I've looked through all the pockets in my jackets, all over my table and desk, and all manner of other weird places where my keys might possibly be. I've gone through my purse at least a dozen times.

And the memory card? I've looked in every camera case pocket, both cameras, all over my desk and shelf, and among all the stuff on my kitchen table. It's been missing for at least six weeks. I've even gone and bought a replacement card.

You're probably getting the idea right now that my house is not exactly perfectly tidy and clutter-free, and that if I kept it neater, gee, maybe I wouldn't lose things so often. Well, normally I DON'T lose things, and, well... SHADDUP!!! :P

Anyhoo.

Last night as I was digging around in my purse for my spare set of car keys, I grabbed a key and pulled it out. Lo and behold, THERE WERE MY ORIGINAL SET OF KEYS! What the??? SCORE! How I managed to miss them the 55 billion times I looked through my purse is beyond me.

My theory? They went on a secret vacation to Mexico and only just got back. They didn't want to get in trouble for running away without so much as a note, so they slipped back stealthily into my purse when I wasn't looking. Yep. That's DEFINITELY what happened.

And then, just now, as I was checking email, a wee little corner of blue plastic caught my eye on my desk. Could it be? I lifted off the papers it was hiding underneath, and VOILA! My memory card! Apparently the paper monsters on my desk decided to eat it, but were unable to digest it, so kindly spat it back up for me, pictures intact and everything.

Woohoo! I'm doing a wee little dance of joy!

Now, as all things happen in threes... I'm gonna start looking for that million dollars I'm SURE I lost around here SOMEWHERE!


~ This post has been brought to you by the EXCESSIVE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS.

Hillary's in da house

"Why do you always attract SO! MUCH! freakin' action???"

That was the question my dad laughingly asked me, as we settled into our thrones after being crowned king and queen at the improv last night.

'At's right. Someone FINALLY recognized my true royalty. (HA!)

Let me back up, shall I? For father's day, I told my dad that I would take him to go see the improv - a daddy-daughter date. So last night was the night. We went out for dinner first (trying not to totally melt in the heat) and then headed down to Granville Island to see the improv show down there. The theme was "The Improvised Works of Bill Shakespeare."

The theatre is wide and shallow, and across the front there are tables and chairs like in a lounge or something, and then an aisle, then theatre-type seats. I suggested a place in the front row of the theatre seats, in part cause they're good seats, in part cause it would give my 6'4'' dad some good leg room. We settled into our seats, and unbeknownst to me, my dad was kind of hoping that we could blend in a little more. He didn't want to be picked on by the actors or anything like that - he just wanted to sit back and enjoy the show, somewhat invisible.

Well.

As soon as we had sat down, like a tractor beam - *bthzzzzzzt!* - somebody honed in on us - she introduced herself as the stage manager. "I'm wondering if you two would like to be our king and queen for the improv show tonight."

Uhhh.... (OK, well, my dad was like, "uhhh..." and inside I was like "Woohoo! Sweet! Yeah!" Heh. I'm such a wack-job!)

She told us what would be required of us, and basically convinced us (ok, my dad. I needed no convincing) to take on the roles. She brought out our robes - red for me, deep purple for my dad, both trimmed in white - and our crowns - lovely gold plastic with not-so-sparkly jewels - and showed us our thrones. All my dad could do at that point was shake his head and laugh, roll his eyes and make the best of it.

The premise of the show was the the king and queen (hello!) had commissioned a play, but poor Bill had been out carousing and didn't get it done, so now it all had to be improvised, and if the show doth pleaseth not the king and queen, ol' Bill mayeth thus be beheaded. Or something like that.

So we got introduced at the beginning of the show, and for one of the games had to call out "rewrite" for the actors to change the last line uttered, and a few other perks and benefits. But yeah, the spotlight turned on us three or four times during the show for us to do some royal duty or another. We both had fun playing it up.

Like when the group of high schoolers from New York started calling out "rewrite" instead of us, my dad bellowed out, "SILENCE!" and the improv host totally played it up by cowering in fear and telling them, "Thou has aaaangered thy king! [turning to us and bowing low, with the hand rolling wave of a faithful servant] I'm sorry, your majesty. Please take this next scene as my humble apologies..." and on and on. I just about fell out of my chair laughing. (hi Sarah!)

It was definitely a night to remember.

And??? There were prizes, folks! Prizes! At the end of the show, we got two tickets to return to the improv and FOUR tickets to go see a Canadians baseball game at Nat Bailey stadium. SCORE!

The moral of this story is: beware if you're hanging out with me. Life will never be dull! *grin*

Now, knowing that, who wants to go see them some baseball? Or improv? Heh. heh. heh.

Why you should NEVER trust your friends

Saturday night, three friends came over to my house for an evening of chardonnay and silliness. It was great fun. We had goiter cheese (seriously... what WAS that stuff? It was some kind of soft-ish cheese that smelled like a campfire, looked like a goiter, and tasted like... well, cheese), strawberries, grapes, chocolate, and a few rather large bottles of chardonnay. We played silly games, and were all very sleepy.

Some more than others.

Let me just say this. School has just finished (HALLELUJAH!) and all the go-go-go of the year, and in particular the last month, is starting to catch up with me. I'm one tired chicken. AND, I've been up at 5:15 every morning for boot camp, pushing my body to it's limits (and having to at times lift my legs into the car cause they're too sore to move on thier own. And boy-howdy, don't make me laugh after core day. Them abs is SORE!). So there's that aspect of tiredness, too. And, we did a 15 km hike earlier that day. AND I'd had three glasses of chardonnay. And I don't usually drink. And it was almost midnight.

So I fell asleep on the couch during our game. That's right. DURING. I still had my cards in my hand. (Click any picture for a larger view)

My so-called-friends began to plot and scheme...


And then the deed was done...



...along with some carefully placed props


Oh, but that wasn't enough. Nooo. Seeing as I was still holding my cards, and apparently didn't even flinch when they DREW ALL OVER MY FACE and took over a dozen flash pictures, they decided they'd have to go for more. Do you SEE the evil on her face???

I'm surprised they were merciful enough to just paint my nails, and not grace me with silver eyelids or something. It was only for fear of wrath and revenge when I awoke, I'm sure!


It must have been the fumes that woke me up.


And the camera man? Looks sweet and innocent here, but no! He's a black-hearted part of the axis of evil as well!

They told me, "Hey, Hillary! Show us your fingernail!" So I did.

Just you wait, my pretties. One day, when you're least expecting it, I'll be waiting for you. You will rue the day. RUE! I tell you!

Muah hahahaaaaa!