Sep 30, 2004

Window dressing

The curtains. They finally broke their long silence. I knew they were listening, I knew they could talk, knew they could offer help, guidance, deliverance from the evil, malign whisperings of the carpet. And today? Today, they broke their vows of silence and non-intervention.

How was I to know they spoke Esperanto?

I kid you not, today is Poisoned Blackberries Day. The truth is stranger than Irrelephant.

Today's colour: yellow
Today's scent: roses
Today's word: Happy!
Today's music: that same old song, sung badly
Today's tele: Not watching the idjit box today

Sep 29, 2004

The only thing we have to fear

So there I was. Standing on the front porch, a thousand people gathered to hear me speak. I was brilliant, setting them up, playing on their darkest fears, bringing their hopes up before dashing them to the ground, then rebuilding them again, making them all think about 'what could be.' And then the police came and took away my gun, and everyone left. What a letdown.

Today's colour: blue steel
Today's scent: burnt gunpowder
Today's word: equalizer
Today's music: Pearl Jam's Jeremy
Today's tele: RoboCop

September 28 is Ask A Stupid Question Day. Oooh, this makes work about a thousand times less promising.

Sep 27, 2004

If I were a lumberjack...

At least this time there wasn't a roommate in my cell. The freaking jail didn't have any sort of network connection, tho, so I was without connection--dreadful!

Anyway, I guess the ASPCA or PETA or somebody got wind of my methods with the squirrels. I'd bet dollars to dog biscuits that Rex next door tipped them off. I can see him now, lying on his porch, his black doggie lips curled up in a sneer. Oh, his time is coming. Might have to put a scorpion in his Alpo.

Now if only I can get these people to stop snooping around the house. I have to keep The Device safe. How do I know they aren't with Them. Ye gods, the subterfuge. Plans within plans within plans.

Yesterday, while I spent my time in the Stony Lonesome was National Good Neighbor Day. Since Rex turned me in to the Thin Blue Line I am less than enthused about being a Good Neighbor, unless doing so involves a few carefully placed mines. It was also National Pancake Day, which is nice, but all the jail had was some horrible boiled carrots and broccoli served with a big slog of Government Cheese. Today, however, was Crush A Can Day. I took out my post-incarceration anger on a few dozen cans before I realised that it'd work out a lot better if they were EMPTY first.

Silly me.

Today's colour: Anything but prison orange
Today's scent: Anything but prison laundry soap
Today's word: Anything but "time"
Today's music: Anything but "Jailhouse Rock"
Today's tele: The Great Escape

Sep 25, 2004

Pregnant? Heck, I didn't even know she was a breeder...

Saturday. Saturday's are always bad days. They are. Today was no exception.

I thought I had beaten the squirrels. Boy was I wrong. When I cut the tree down, and used the flamethrower on the nests with their little throw rugs and their little end tables, I guess I missed their crack infiltration team. The little buggers managed to get into the attic. I went up there this morning to get some more purifying filters for the air recirculators, and what did I find? A tiny breeder reactor.

Imagine my suprise.

And all those little squirrels, their little tails a-bush, little black beady eyes glittering, whiskers quivering, their little white lab coats so spotless...and the tiny clipboards. I couldn't stand it.
So, I did what I had to do. I locked all the doors, sealed off the windows, and before they could mastermind their escape, I sent in the wolverines. It was a mess, but it was worth it. No more squirrels, no more reactor, no more cheap, affordable power and no more weapons of mass destruction for those little furry monsters.

I am biped, hear me roar!

Oh yeah, today is Comic Book Day. I would have posted a heck of a lot earlier, but I spent most of my morning reading all my old Lobo and X-Men and The Maxx comics, and when I started into The Sandman, I got so freaked out that I had to lock myself in the Mental Calming And Mindwave Settling Unit for a few hours, just to settle things down.

Today's colour: nuclear green
Today's scent: Uhm...burning leaves and sticks?
Today's word: Homebuilt
Today's music: Rikki Don't Lose That Number
Today's tele: Had planned on listening to PHC, but have missed almost all of it. *gnash*

Sep 24, 2004

Environmentally warped

"Paper or plastic." Oh, they'll pay. They'll ALL pay. They'll squeal like little pigglies.

Today is the Festival Of Latest Novelties. Do SUVs and Brittney Aguilera count?

Today's colour: paint it Porsche Kiev Green today--I got my truck back from the shop finally. It's exploding skunk for THEM today
Today's scent: that wonderful 'old truck' smell
Today's word: GMC
Today's music: Rita hasn't got a radio, so how about the music of the road?
Today's model: 1971 GMC 1500, affectionately named "Rainy Day Rita" because I only drive her when it rains and I can't take the bike out.

Sep 23, 2004

Checkmate, er, king me!

Have you ever noticed when you walk into a really nice department store how the carpet is? I mean, how the whole place is, the atmosphere, the sense of grandeur and posh snootiness, but it all seems to settle into the carpet.

I mean, with dirt you know where you stand. Hardwood? Honest, industrious, and straightforward. With carpet, all is fakery and false platitudes. The noise level is restrained. The laughter you hear is (directed at us?) mocking, fake, flat. But the carpet. There it all lies. The dread ocean of taupe, or vanilla, or ivory or creme, some non-colour, a vast, motionless sea of synthetic nylon (that's plastic to YOU, boy) threads, reaching for the ceiling, being trodden underfoot every day, absorbing the shock of countless treads, the endless hours of mindless chatter. The fakery. The falsehoods, the empty platitudes, the sheer, all-consuming hatred of the carpet.

Beware the carpet. One day it will rise up, and then it'll make our eyes water.

On a not much lighter note, and today being Checkers Day, I find myself wondering if I have to a) take a cab to work, b) listen to 50's rock-and-roll music, c) wear really horrid square patterned clothing or d) engage my neighbor's cat in a challenging, winner take all game of checkers. Oh, and it's Dogs In Politics Day, which I am NOT going to celebrate, after my last two dog experiences. Twice bitten, four times shy?

Today's colour: Yellow, with a black-and-white accent stripe
Today's scent: Checker, by Lloreal
Today's word: click
Today's music: No, that's just too easy.
Today's tele: Is there an all board games channel on the tele? There should be: Next up on the Board Games Channel--Women's Championship Full Contact Strip Chess In Mud. I'd be willing to bet they'd make a killing, and the Game of Kings would certainly attract a whole new clientelle.

Sep 22, 2004

We are Siamese if you please, Sah!

I had a rather interesting day yesterday. Like I don't, ordinarily, right?

Got off work earlier than expected, came home to find a lovely Siamese cat sitting in my garage, in my parking space, mind you. And when I drove in he sat there with that particular smugness that is the cat's perogative, while I carefully maneouvered around him.

When my vehicle was secured I walked over, prepared to accost this snide fellow, but feeling magnanimous at the last, I was gentlemanly instead. Shockingly, the cat was also well-mannered in return. We began to chat, and I found out that he was a reincarnated Brigadier General who had served in Indo-China as part of the 47th Burma Light Horse Irregulars, during The Great War. I put the kettle on, and the cat and I enjoyed an afternoon of backgammon and leisurely chat.


Today is International Diary Day--does that include Blogs? If so, I've fulfilled my holiday requirements. It's also Hobbit Day, which rather freaks me out. I don't want the house full of dwarves, nor do I care a whit for an elderly chap with a long beard and pointy hat to come and carve runes on my front door, even if it isn't green yet.

The door, not the runes.

Today's colour: forest green--the colour my door needs to be
Today's scent: freshly toasted bagels with cheddar cheese slices
Today's word: runes
Today's music: I don't know, something moody by Lorenna McKennitt
Today's tele: This early in the morning all I could get would be the Farm Report. Nopey no.

Sep 21, 2004


International Banana Festival. What have bananas ever done for me to make it worth having an International Festival over, other than to be underfoot when I don't want them there, and to feed armies of cartoon monkeys?

Odd things are afoot here at the house (they're lousy fliers.) But that is neither here nor there. The guy who calls himself "the mailman" left another bomb for me in the mailbox. I put it in the tub with the rest. They think they will trick me so easily, do they? Fools.

Today's colour: ash gray--gray is the new black. Mulder told me so
Today's scent: stuffed up, can't smell an'thing
Today's word: schadenfreude. It's what you guys have if you read this blog regularly
Today's goal: enjoy work. I like setting my goals sky high

Sep 20, 2004

Snooker anyone?

Oh boy. Things have gotten a little strange hereabouts. Wow. I took a chance, let the guards down and walked out on the porch this morning to enjoy the sunrise. As I stood there admiring the morning I looked up into the rising sun, and I saw the telltale signs of a cloaked Romulan Warbird. Hah. The fools! They thought I wouldn't notice them orbiting the house! Idiots! I went inside, got my Sub Neutronic Destabilizer Mark IV, and gave them what for! I think the neighbor saw me, but I gave HIM a quick blast with the Mark IV (set on Mince, not full power,) and he went back inside. The Romulans took off, back to their stinking homeworld, but it's obvious that my actions here are starting to have far-reaching effects.

And today is National Punch Day. To celebrate, I brought out my Punch and Judy theater and performed for three hours straight. Not too shabby for an out-of-work puppeteer.

Today's colour: green
Today's scent: cut grass--spent three hours making sure the rebellious field was brougth into line
Today's word: bushhog
Today's music: that sort of ratchety-clanking sound the tractor makes
Today's tele: It was Women's Championship 9-ball,but 9-ball is a lucky man's game. Pfui!

Sep 19, 2004


What an experience. I thought that kind of stuff only happened in the movies. Ew. After I got home this morning, I showered for about an hour. I guess it was a good object lesson, tho. NEVER be niceto a guy named "Bubba" in jail. Ever.

But anyway. I got home, celebrated my own Independence Day, got me some clean clothes, and I feel better now. I went out on the front porch, took a deep breath of that wonderful **CENSORED** fresh air, and I saw a site that almost dropped me in my tracks: the squirrels. The little furry barstards. I thought that this far Southwest, out in the heat, the little critters wouldn't be able to live. Boy, was I wrong. Up in one of the trees in the front yard, there they were. Them and their big nests, air conditioner units just a-humming along. Well, I couldn't have THAT, could I?

I got out the chain saw, and my neighbor (and his stinking dog) started yelling. Now, I had to do something about THAT too, didn't I. I mean, first thing I had lined all the walls in the house with Reynold's Wrap to block out the mind-control signals that guy was sending out, but outside, within his sphere of influence, I was having a hard time blocking him out, him and his orange pants.

And so, once again, driven by circumstance, I took matters into my own hands. I walked right over there, smacked his dog right in the kisser, and made International Gesture #47, "Righteous Anger With Psychotic Overtones." Took him quite by suprise, I am sure. He just lay there on his porch, gasping for breath.

So THAT taken care of, I went back to my yard and cut the tree down, squirrels and air conditioned nests and all.

How was I to know that the tree would fall across the power lines?

And firemen! I thought those guys were supposed to be really cheerful and happy people. Boy, was I wrong. Sheesh, cranky. Maybe I interrupted their bbq or something.

Today's colour: It sure ain't red. Firemen...sheesh.
Today's scent: freon pouring out of ruptured AC units
Today's word: Tiiimber!
Today's music: The Lumberjack Song
Today's tele: OLN

And the finale? September 19 is "National Butterscotch Pudding Day." I swear, who comes up with this stuff? Truth CAN be stranger than fiction. It just doesn't pay as well.

Sep 18, 2004

The trouble with round fruits

Ah, it was an interesting day. I went grocery shopping. That's always an interesting experience. I like going to the grocery store. Seeing all those people, all intent on their purchases, rolling their little shopping carts around the store, picking and choosing, looking and comparing. Then I passed the canteloupe. That's when the trouble started.

I have never really liked canteloupe. And they know that. Well, I was rolling my cart along the fruits and vegetables section, minding my own business, heck, I wasn't even NEAR the canteloupe. And I heard one of them, one of those little smug round fruits--it yelled out a profanity at me. I won't say it here, but it was foul. Just like a cantelope to hit you where you live.

Well blogosphere, you would have been proud of me. I was going to keep walking, just ignore it and keep going, be more of a man than it. But they wouldn't let me. Ooooh no. Another canteloupe, a bigger one, started yelling. And then another. Then they were ALL yelling at me--curses, profanity, I swear, I don't know HOW the Produce Manager didn't hear all the noise.

Well, I couldn't just STAND there and listen to it all. I had to do something. So, I ran over to the appliance aisle, grabbed me some of those big kitchen knives and layed into their little smirking dimple-covered bodies. Stabbing left and right, all through the bin, tossing them over my shoulder, there was sticky pinkish-orange juice and seeds everywhere. I think I got through most of the bin before they restrained me. It only took four big stockmen and a guy with a pallet jack.

The good news? They're letting me keep my Ipaq here in the holding cell so I can keep posting. And my cell-mate, Bubba, wants to be friends. I'll write more later.

Oh--before I forget--Happy National Play-Doh day. Unfortunately the Rec Room here doesn't offer Play-Doh. Their idea of recreation runs more toward heavy steel things with blunt edges.

Today's colour: grey, lots of grey
Today's scent: Ew. The jail's laundry seems not to be working
Today's word: "screw." That's what they call the guards, I'm told
Today's music: The guards are listening to Christine Aguelara. Isn't that considered torture?
Today's tele: Court TV

Sep 17, 2004

I got your dumpling right here

I was doing some soul searching tonight. I sat up for hours, I really dug deeply. I took out my soul, gave it a good dusting, and really looked at what has happened in my life. And I saw that something was bothering me, something was lodged deep in my spirit, and it was poisoning me from the inside. So I dug a little deeper.

I found out that it was from my old school days...the third grade. A young girl, named Bettye. I really thought I loved her. And I thought about it, here and now, really looked at it from all sides. And now I am over her, really and truly. Closure is mine, she is forgotten.

The conniving bitch. She'll pay.

Soooo, today is National Apple Dumpling Day. Hmm. Don't seem to have any sort of dumpling on me today. Perhaps I'll amble by the local Chinese restraunt and see if they do Apple WonTons. That'll be nice. Yeah.

Today's colour: Red. It's always a good Friday when it's red
Today's scent: dumplings?
Today's word: I woke up with "One Night in Bangkok" stuck in my head, so how about "chess."
Today's music: Already done the Chess about a repeat play?
Today's goal: cash the meager restitution, buy an eggcrate for the mattress, and plot revenge against my third-grade obsession. Sounds like a plan!

Sep 16, 2004

In all the tumult

of moving, I forgot the updates!

September 13 was Defy Superstition Day. My old residence used to be #13, so I'm not trisidekaphobic...

September 14 was National Cream-filled Donut Day. As long as it's Bavarian creme. Yum!

September 15 was Felt Hat Day. My utter favourite so far. My loving syster bought me a beautiful shaped black Kangol-style ivy cap, very nice, very chic, and very thick, so it's gonna have to hang out with the other felts until winter settles it's icy grip around here. That'll be around January, likely.

September 16 is Stay Away From Seattle Day, which was pretty easy for me to accomplish, being almost 2000 miles away from it, and Collect Rocks Day. Well, unless I can collect rocks to pummel cookies and marauders with, I don't want no part of it.


Lies and subterfuge!

Something rather interesting happened at work. I was helping this old gentleman who told me he was a bishop with the Episcopal Diocese West, and he needed some office equipment. Well, I helped him for the better part of an hour, and when he left, it occured to me that he was a liar, a scoundrel, and a complete fraud. A 'bishop' indeed. He never once moved diagonally.

Today's colour: Black. And white, but white goes first
Today's scent: pressboard
Today's word: gambit
Today's music: Broadway musical "Chess" soundtrack
Today's tele: Kasparov vs some loser

Sep 15, 2004

Man's best friend my left foot

Okay, where shall I begin.

I am just settling in from the trip, trusting my pda and sattelite uplink to keep this blog updated properly and not in Swahilli Butt-Signals or anything. I guess I'm going to have to be a little safer than usual, careful with my words so I can't be followed to my new place. The whole gingerbread incident caused me to have to relocate to **CENSORED**, as the house was uninhabitable and the police were really starting to get on my nerves, not to mention the fact that the listening devices were in every room and I was having to do a bug-sweep every morning just so I could let a few bees out of the hive. So, I've moved.

I am settling into a new apartment, a new lifestyle (ah, **CENSORED** Art--almost as unappreciated as black velvet painting!) and a new heat index. But life is good. I only have one gnawing concern: my neighbor's dog.

See, my new neighbor on **CENSORED** St. has this big German Shepherd dog. Rufus is his name (the dog, not the neighbor--his name is **CENSORED CENSORED**) and he's a nice dog, very sleek and well-groomed, a bit soft-spoken for a male dog but that's to be forgiven, considering he's **CENSORED** but something happened early this morning that really disturbed me. I had just gotten settled in my new bedroom, up in apt. # **CENSORED** and was in my room hanging things up, putting suitcases away, setting the **CENSORED** wires and scanners, and of course I had gotten rather filthy from all the moving and unpacking, so I took a shower. Well, it seems I hadn't realised it when I got in the shower, but I had forgotten and left the blinds open. Now keep in mind that the bathroom window happens to look down into the neighbor's yard. And Rufus the dog saw me naked, through the open window, when I stepped out of the shower.

I can still hear his shrill doggie laughter.

Today's colour: pink neon from the sign across the street that says "**CENSORED** Motor Lodge"
Today's scent: the smell of **CENSORED** off the desert
Today's word: **CENSORED**
Today's music: All I keep hearing is the jukebox playing at **CENSORED**'s Bar And Grill
Today's tele: I can only pick up one channel, **CENSORED** out of **CENSORED** so I guess it's going to have to be **CENSORED**

Sep 14, 2004

The final insult has been dealt

So, it comes down to this:

Abandoning my house, I can stand. It can be replaced.

The cats I can stand. It rankles, but I can stand it. The poor dears will need deep psychotherapy for years, but that's okay, I can handle that.

My car is gone. I hate to lose such a find piece of automotive history, but there are other Ford Rancheros out there.

My yard is a smouldering, pock-marked ruin. The grass gave up months ago. So did the Yard of the Month Club.

Even the loss of my sanity. It can't be replaced, but I don't need it THAT bad. Heck, I've been struggling along without that for more years than I've had Hot Tuna Melts.

No, this was the final blow. Et tu, cookie? I thought that it was so simple, that it would be cut and dry, that either they or I would perish in the fight, that there would be some sort of climactic, nay, Apocalyptic battle, and one of us would emerge victorious. If I died against their screaming little cookie assaults at least I would die with honor and glory, and would take an honour guard of them to hell with me. Or, if I were to defeat their sugary assaults, and grind them to graham cracker crumbs beneath my heel, I could parade about in my strength and lord my victory over all of the cookie aisle.

But that is not to be.

They have stolen victory from me, and the chance for a beautiful death scene.

I woke up this morning, and saw them. The living room looked like a battlefield. Well, it WAS a battlefield, but this looked more like the battlefields you see on the tele. Bodies everywhere, bits and pieces of icing, abandoned weapons scattered like pixie-sticks. Okay, so they ARE pixie-sticks. Sometime in the night they had stopped moving. They had stopped walking. They had stopped attacking. They lay, ignobly strewn about, covering every inch of space like the crust on the bottom of a really badly-made lemon meringue.

They got stale. They can't move, can't attack. All they can do is lay there. And mold.

Oh god, the humanity. The humanity.

Today's colour: sort of a ginger going to green colour
Today's scent: musty
Today's word: oxidation
Today's music: Mozart's Requiem Mass
Today's tele: the sign-off screen, where they play Retreat.

Sep 13, 2004

I just thought

I had problems, what with the cops all the time driving by slowly and the cookies coming at me from every side, and the cotton candy explosions and the sweetgum claymore mines. This is what I came home to this afternoon.

Office chair

They're a delicacy over here

Those crunches were the roaches, all right. The roaches being eaten. The gingerbread was I to know that the roaches were a gingerbread delicacy?

I don't know what to do anymore! The fiendish little things: they've burned all my CDs. They were playing frisbee with my good old antique LPs. My bed is constantly full of crumbs, and the TV will only pick up The Food Network. (Seems the cookies like Alton Brown, too.) The bathroom is filled with dirty towels (they all have cookie goo on them) and the cops keep calling.

Worse than that, they're starting to get sneakier. No more foolish frontal assaults. There was a bomb attached to my car this morning. I started the engine, then realised that I had left my wallet on the nightstand. I returned to the house, heading for the front door to perhaps confuse them a little bit. I braved the sugar-candy barbed wire, managed to get through the Pez pillboxes, got to the front porch, and there was a massive "Fwump" sound behind me. I turned around in time to see my car get engulfed in a huge cotton candy explosion. There was pink, stringy spun sugar everywhere. The car was completely buried. I sat there and wept.

The cookies made one more determined assault as I sat there in my desperation, but with a strength born of sheer madness I waded into their little brown bodies with screams and kicks, thrashing and frothing and lashing out on all sides. They finally retreated when I reached into their midst and grabbed one of their generals and bit his head off right in front of them. I think that finally made them realise I mean business.

Now if only the exterminator will show up. Stinking coward roaches. They abandoned the field, and are making an assault on the neighbor's houses now. Serves them right for doubting me!

Today's colour: pink
Today's scent: circus smell
Today's word: spun sugar
Today's music: The theme from The Godfather
Today's goal: find the car
Today's war cry: Destroy all cookies!

Sep 12, 2004

Operation Biscuit Tin

I managed to pick up some of the gingerbread freak's radio broadcasts this afternoon. I was folding laundry when the fillings in my teeth somehow began to act as a sort of radio receiver, and while the broadcast was pretty broken up and static-filled, I managed to make out the following:

...parallel capacitors and flux linkage...Operation Biscuit Tin underway...inductance characteristics of human skin...cerbrospinal fluid matching...proceed as necessary...separation of medula oblongata and state...three soup crackers...touched on the head twice...broken tailbone you...poison monkeys...once in a crowded elevator but not since then...

I'm not sure who they were broadcasting to, or who could possibly be aiding these monsters, but I was going to see if I could find the broadcast station and do some recon. Before I could move in I was stopped by the sudden appearance of a small advance force. Ten or so of their Special Forces troops broke cover from behind the wingback chair in the den and started a daring daylight assault on the pool table. I'm not sure what their final objective was, unless they had some daring plan to put a sattelite receiver on the roof via the ceiling fan, or perhaps they were intent on installing a sniper up there in the attic; whatever their purpose was I managed to cut it short by hurling this morning's breakfast bagels at them from the overturned kitchen table, while they tried vainly to reach the top using hand-pulled taffy ropes. They were caught out in the open with nowhere to retreat, and my cinnamon and raisin air-to-ground attack quickly dispatched them to a crumb.

My victory was sweet.

Grandpa, come over here and stand still

All was quiet today! The roaches must have worked. All I can hear is the occasional grim crunch behind the walls when one of those little fiendish cookies gets attacked by the roaches. Now if only I can get the cats to come out of hiding. All will be forgiven, I try to assure them, but I understand the cookies have perfected a sucrose-based brain-washing technique that is utterly diabolical.

And according to my grandfather's magical wooden leg, today is National Chocolate Milkshake Day. It's not magical in that you can wave it wildly around and do amazing feats of prestidigitation with it (the leg, not the milkshake,) it's more that if you have a Pure Heart and a True Desire and you fold up a twenty very small and stick it in grandpa's shoe you can stare through the knothole in his wooden leg and have Infinite Mysteries and Unthinkable Futures and Bizarre Circumstances revealed to you. And since grandpa is Scottish, if you happen to forget where you are and glance up, you will see not only his kilt but Pure And Undistilled Horror, which is guaranteed to make you fall down clutching your eyes and throat, and it'll likely make grandpa laugh until his teeth fly out and he falls over blue from anoxia.

Today's colour: cerulean blue -- the colour grandpa turns when he laughs too much
Today's scent: Old Spice cologne
Today's word: prosthetic
Today's music: Oscar Brand -- Sea Shanties
Today's goal: find the cats
Today's cat: Babel, my sweet insane tortoise-shell kitty

Sep 11, 2004

Shakespeare in the hiz-ouse

Hah! Blog o'mine, I have discovered the way to utterly destroy the marauding cookies. The suggestion that I use rats or mice to destroy my baked invaders got me to thinking, and while I wasn't really up to loosing rats in my house, I did come up with an answer that I think will do it. It's all so clear to me now. I feel a fool for not thinking of this earlier. Attend me:

Cookies are made of sugar. Roaches love sugar. Problem solved.

Therefore, I went to the trouble to order (from a reputable Bolivian cockroach importer) five thousand of the finest Greater Bolivian Sugar Fiend Cockroaches. They came this morning (FedEx Weekend Roach Delivery! Who would'a thunk it?) in a really suprisingly small box. Man, they can really pack those dudes in. I opened it right in front of an onrushing swarm of the little cookie monsters! You should have seen their little icing eyes open wide in fear and alarm as the roaches came boiling out of the box! They knew their death was upon them, on six honey-brown legs!

Of course, you should have seen MY eyes open in fear and alarm as all those thousands of Greater Bolivian Sugar Fiend Cockroaches came pouring out of that box and up my arms, into my clothes, through my hair, and onto other bits of my body that I don't usuall allow roaches onto. I didn't think I had it in me to scream like that. And I haven't peed myself in almost four decades, but today was special. Boy, was it.

So special I think I am permanently scarred.

I'm gonna have nightmares for a very long time about that.

But! I HAVE found the answer. The roaches chased the little gingerbread jerks all over the house. I found myself a nice space in a corner of a wall where I could kind of crouch and watch them run (and keep the roaches at bay with a shoe.) Now if only I could get that tic in my cheek to stop.

Cry havoc, and let slip the cockroaches of war!

Today's colour: Roasted-coffee bean brown with green guts
Today's scent: Roach guts...EW
Today's sound: "Crunch!"
Today's Recipe: A nice pot of camomile tea, to settle my nerves
Today's Recon: Hiding in a corner trembling violently
Today's Weapon of Choice: Size 13W New Balance athletic shoe

Sep 10, 2004

Plans within plans

The plot goes deeper than ever I thought! Not so bad as having cookies underfoot, but much more devious, far more insidious. The cookies somehow found out where I work, and have managed to convince the employees here that I LIKE having "Happy Birthday" sung at me. Note I did say "at" and not "to." You don't realise how these people sing. Most of them couldn't carry a tune if it was nailed to them.

Now I almost look forward to going home to the cookie battleground. It almost seems relaxing.

All I Want For My Birthday

Is an end to the Cookie Menace! When will it end? WHEN?

Feline turncoats

I can't believe it. The cats came back this morning. I realised that they hadn't been driven off, they had all defected to the cookie's side. Traitors every one! I guess they figured to be on the side that won. Hah. I've got news for them.

It just rankled so, it really got me to see them all like that. There I was, walking to the garage to dispose of some, well, never mind what, and there they came, all five of them charging across the yard, yowling and meowing, wearing ridiculous looking icing-coated saddles. And the licorice reins. Get real. High on brown sugar, in a feline pinscer movement they came tearing at me like some sort of baker's nightmare! Hair fluffed all up, powdered confectioner's sugar flying off their tails, and those little gingerbread knights and their peppermint stick lances. That irked me. Bad. What really added insult to injury was the little confectioner's sugar banners flapping in the morning cool. Who the hell does they think they are, Richard the Sugar Hearted and His Saccharine Crusade?

Today is Swap Ideas Day. Tell you what, you give me an idea how to deal with this menace, and I'll take it. Then maybe if you're lucky I'll give you my ideas on how to prevent the effect of chemtrails.

Today's colour: I've got to stop waking up before sunrise
Today's scent: Can't smell a thing, too stuffed up
Today's word: old
Today's music: Funeral March of a Marionette
Today's tele: doubtful

Sep 9, 2004

Later that same day...

Failure! The gingerbread women I baked fell prey to the crisp wiles of the gingerbread warriors. I can even now hear the tiny little crumbly sounds of them...doing...*gag*'s unthinkable. Their little cookie bodies rubbing together behind the cabinets and...oh god. I can't go on.

My deepest fear is that my syster was right--what if gingerbread women can get knocked up? What exactly is the gestation period of a cookie? And my stars and garters, soon I'm to be up to my ankles in gingerbabies? NOOOOOOOOOO!

Hello, soldier...

It's Teddy Bear Day. I would lock myself in the closet and have a long heart-to-heart with mine, but I think the cookies are holding him hostage. I refuse to check, tho, because once I do they'll have a hold on me. I can't give them a single edge in this game, it's gotten far too serious, far too deadly to let the controls slip for a second!

I tried a radical new technique today. This morning. Okay, I was up at 3:15 am, trying to get a jump on the little blighters.


I baked a whole army of shapely gingerbread women. Took them out of the toaster oven all piping hot (in more than one way! *slightly cracked giggle*) and let them loose. They immediately took off to all the little hiding places and cracks in the wainscotting that the gingerbread men have been using to ambush and attack me, and started assimilating themselves into the ginger-ranks. Victory will soon be mine!!!

Today's colour: Amana Radarange white
Today's scent: I refuse to say "baking cookies"
Today's word: infiltration!
Today's Recipe: Grandma's home-style
Today's Recon: The basement

Sep 8, 2004

That's it.

They're into the machinery.

Deus ex gingerbread.

I can't upload the blog, they seem to have tampered with the delicate works.

Damn them!!

The thin cinnamon line

Yep, it's official now. The cops think I am nuts. See, I called them yesterday evening, thinking there was no way I was gonna win. The little Keebler freaks cut my phone line before I could get the whole address to the cops, but I managed to get enough for them to find my house. Either that or they already had my lines tapped, and knew who I was. Me, I think it's a 50-50 chance either way.

I guess the little gingermonkeys saw the black and white roll up the driveway, and all ran and hid. I swear, it was like they had never been there. The cops came in and saw all the devastation in the house. I mean, you know, I had to take steps! Fight fire with fire! Start acting, not reacting, and other The Book of Five Rings stuff! I had already beat the stove to pieces with an axe to keep the gingermonsters from baking secondary troops. And the fridge had to go, naturally, so they couldn't keep any more of that cutsey little pink icing around to make bayonettes and mortars with, and to keep them from storing replacement troops. And I had to tear all the cabinet doors off so they would have less places to hide. And then there was the ill-fated exploration mission into the wainscotting, to see if I could find their C & C.

Well, the cops didn't understand why I had flour all over the floor, and when I told them it was so I could watch for footprints and tire tracks so I could see where they had started their supply lines, they looked at me kind of funny. It took quite a bit of convincing to get them to leave after that, let me tell you. Not even bribing them with Krispy Kremes and Jamacian-blend coffee worked.

Note to myself: don't try to bring anyone else in on this. They won't understand. And today is National Date Nut Bread Day, as well as Pardon Day. Me, I'm not a big Date Nut Bread sorta guy, but I for sure ain't about to Pardon this iced evil, so me, I'm going to the bakery.

Today's colour: black--the sun isn't up yet
Today's scent: fresh-baked death
Today's word: Nuts!
Today's music: Steely Dan -- My Old School
Today's tele: The Science Channel

Sep 7, 2004

When the oven is full, the cookies shall walk the Earth

Q: This may sound goofy, but are elephants really afraid of mice?

A: "Elephants really do shy away from some members of the rodent world...long-nosed pachyderms have no dread of mice, they just have crummy vision. Because an elephant's eyes are set on the sides of its enormously broad head, it is unable to focus at close range and thus is easily startled by small, unidentified objects skittering underfoot. Alarmed, it recoils its trunk and commences stomping."

Irrelephants, however, do not concern themselves with mice and small rodents (foreshadowing,) instead preferring to protect themselves from very crisp brown Shapes of Evil (current plot.)

Enough science! On with the psychoses.

Neither Rain Nor Snow Day indeed. If nothing else, it's Neither Powdered Sugar nor Brown Cookie Goodness Day. The Attack of the Living Dead Gingerbread Men has escalated. I caught them in the kitchen this morning trying to turn the oven on. They had a whole tray of raw gingerbread soldiers, all powdered up in their brown sugar uniforms, ready to be baked golden-brown and deadly. I scattered them with the broom (first thing I could get my hands on,) and fed all the little raw dough-warriors on the baking tray to the neighbor's dog, who was too excited to be eating sweets for him to really understand that I was using him as a canine Dachau.

Even as I sit here and write I still get shivers thinking about all those little black and red licorice bayonetts, and the tiny little fangs on their little round faces.

The horror.

The horror.

Today's colour: green--the colour of my neighbor's dog's teeth right now.
Today's scent: dog breath mixed with licorice. Not nice.
Today's word: cookie genocide. Yeah, I know it's two words, but whose blog is this anyway?
Today's music: Wagner's The Ring Cycle: Sigfried's Death and Funeral Music
Today's Tele: Too early for mind-rotting violence.

Sep 6, 2004

Q: How is a mouse when it spins?

A: The higher, the fewer.

A rhino and an elephant are taking a shower together. The rhino says 'Please pass the soap.'
The elephant says, 'No soap! Radio!"

See, it's these sorts of things that get out of hand. A rhino and an elephant would NEVER shower together. Imagine the clogged drain...speaking as an irrelephant, I am deeply wounded.

This side toward enemy (coffee)

Geezus. I can't believe it. It seems a thousand years ago that I opened that box of gingerbread monsters. Since that day, they have singlehandedly taken over the house, the yard, you name it. There is no place safe from their little cookie acts of monstrosity. I woke up last night to go pee, stumbling blindly around the house at 4 in the morning, and I walked right into a snare the little ginger barstards set for me. They had strung a tiny suger-glazed trip-wire across the hall, and *BLAM* I tripped right over it, fell smack into a toffee net they had strung between the doorknob and my signed picture of Millard Fillmore.

Then. THEN the little baked fiends started after me with biscotti! I came to just in time to see them charging up the hallway at me, yelling in their tiny crisp little voices. Thankfully, they aren't smart (maybe the cooking addles their tiny M&M brains,) as they had grabbed a tin of very old zucchini-flavoured biscottit that I had received as a gift about a year ago. They had gotten spoiled, and a bit mouldy, and as such were soft enough not to cut. I'm just thankful they didn't find the new tin of vanilla I had hidden away. Those things are SHARP! They'll never find them, hidden as they are behind the...whoa, better not write that, they may be using my computer already. I found KaZaa running this morning, someone had been downloading food-fetish porno. I fear the worst--they have been reading my blog, too. More later.

Or before that, because today is Fight Procrastination Day!

Today's colour: Ginger-SNAP
Today's scent: Too clogged up to smell--took a biscotti in the schnoz this am
Today's word: biscotti
Today's music: Cicadas singing in the trees
Today's Tele: Not on

Sep 5, 2004

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Alice

Wow. Some strange things have been happening since I last wrote. The box of gingerbread men I got yesterday? Well, they're possessed. Or alive, or something. I opened it up after supper, was going to have a few cookies and milk and then a nice pipe, and the little barstards leapt out of the box and started running around everywhere! I have never seen anything so bizarre! They all ran off except one, the last one in the box. The little blighter sat up, looked at me with his little brown face and his pink icing eyes and he made a REALLY rude gesture with his little pink icing hands! I tried to whack him, but he jumped off the table and ran away.

I was wondering why one of the cats spent all night freaking out, tearing up and down the hall, meowing and growling. I thought the zombies had come back. Come to find out it's something much worse: sugar-coated food.

Today's Colour: Ginger
Today's Scent: Cookie funk
Today's Word: Hey!
Today's Music: Soundtrack from The Exorcist
Today's Tele: The Possession Channel

Hope you had a marvelous Be Late For Something Day!

Sep 4, 2004

A beginning is a delicate thing.

Dear Blog:

This is my first blog entry, and boy am I fired up about it! It has been quite a while since I have kept a diary, or any sort of written record of my comings and goings, my doings and my undoings, and my downright unholy activity, and I am looking forward to it a great deal. Things have been...hey! The mailman is here, and he has a package for me. Hang on, be right back.

Wow! Gingerbread men cookies! With cutsey little pink icing bits on their little feets and their heads and hands! And a note -- "Dear Irrelephant, enjoy the cookies. They'll enjoy you. Love, an admirer."

An admirer! How wonderful! I've been blogging for all of seven minutes and I've already got an admirer! I'm gonna eat supper first, and leave them for afters.

News Brief
* In June, the director of Thailand's Corrections system wanted away to shift inmates' interest away from betting on the Euro 2004 soccer tournament to actually playing soccer and so had the bright idea to schedule them a match against outsiders, ostensibly to build up their self-esteem, but the outsiders happened to be trained soccer-playing elephants from Ayuthaya Elephant Palace. Self-esteem might have taken a hit, since the inmates could only manage a 5-5 tie. (The elephants apparently were allowed to move the ball with their trunks.)

Today's Colour: Red
Today's Scent: Rain
Today's Word: Pfui
Today's Music: NPR
Today's Tele: Nero Wolfe on Bio Channel

If you're still here, and want a link, how about my sister the knitter's blog? Hereyago--

Oh yeah--Happy Newspaper Carrier Day!