Plague Subsides

Everyone seems to be all better now and all is right with the world.

Which is good since I have grown weary trying to open Tylenol packaging without resorting to power tools. My finger nails have been completely demolished removing multi-layers of plastic, entering secret passwords, tearing off the tops of bottles, having the box perform a retinal scan etc.

All this care for the family has left me exhausted and feeling quite tired. Run down sort of. A bit of a headache.

*cough*

Publisher!

One of the papers I write for (there's so MANY!) - The Kelowna Daily Courier- is looking for a new Publisher!

In order to achieve considerable success with the publication, and perhaps save newspapers around the world from imminent demise, I think I may have to send in my name for the position.

I have a few Action Items that may help them. Consider:

• They have never had a picture of a naked, huge-breasted model on page 3 before. Suggesting that I be the first model will not be considered you rude and insolent person.
• Given my understanding of the male psyche, you could run a picture of a new table saw on page 3 and guys would get just as excited as with a picture of a naked lady.
• Calvin and Hobbes, quite rightly judged the Best Thing in Publishing History, has been allowed to stop. As publisher, I will bring serious influence upon the writer, up to and including waterboarding, to bring this cartoon back to newspapers! This plan alone would probably get me elected Prime Minister, should an election be called on the issue.
• A shameless gossip column, immune from prosecution, should be established immediately. Reading between the lines of political pundits is one thing - actually knowing who is boinking whom's assistant is another.
  
• Running humour columns on the front page may be self-serving, but newspapers need to take bold action in order to preserve market share as we know it. Luring humour writers into the fold and paying them enormous, guaranteed salaries with serious bonuses and built in Golden Parachutes would be well worth considering.
  

I am available for interviewing Tuesdays between 9:30 and noon. Thank you.

The Sickness Day Two...

After the administration of various medications (Lifesaver Popsicles being the most popular) things are looking much worse in our household thanks for asking! Now everyone but myself is ill, but Ill Child #1 seems to be a bit better. I think. Last night her temp was 99.4, Son's temp was 99.5 - the race is on!

Mom is also feeling a bit buggy too...

So the theme for our house for the next few days will be Mucus with a side order of Loogies according to my charming son...

You know something is wrong with sons when they are too ill to play Wii - we'll administer that test when he wakes up later on.

On the plus side I guess I'll be able to finish off the box of Cap'n Crunch cereal all by myself this morning. AND get to read the box for a change.

Further reports from Action Central News when they arrive.

This is Chief Wet Cloth to the Forehead Administrator signing off...

Home Sick

So I'm staying at home today since my daughter is running a fever of 103, she's covered in boils, and the dog chewed her leg off last night.

I'm kidding! About the dog part anyway.

So I shove a funnel in her mouth every so often and pour in the Tylenol, and we watch Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses again. And again. And again.

I may curtail the medicine until her eyes roll up into her head, at which time I can turn off the DVD player and get some blessed relief. I'm starting to lose it already and it's only 9:30 or so.

Further reports when they are available.

I hate thieves...

I feel so sorry for all the people I see whose cross-country skis have been stolen. You can see them everywhere, bravely proceeding with just their poles. They are so strong to overcome their anger at this lawlessness.

I hope the police are forming a task force to combat this menace.

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in the land of Weeds, a great Queen decided to have a Ball.

A Root Ball, wherein all the Handsome Princes in the land were invited to move the Great Tree from one location to another.

The only Handsome Prince to respond to the call happened to be one who lived right there in the castle!

At first the Handsome Prince did not want to participate in the Great Event, because he was hard at work with his three Evil Companions as they sweated and laboured, emptying the castle kitchen of chilled bottles of brown liquid.

How he toiled for his Evil Companions! “Fetch me another one!” they cried. “Got any chips?” they would bellow.

All day long he would toil for them between matches and during stoppages in play.

Then, when it came time for the Great Root Ball, they disappeared to the four winds, leaving our Handsome Prince all alone! How cruel these companions were!

They left our Prince without food, or drink, or proper clothing to wear to the ball.

Suddenly, his Manly Sportscaster appeared on the screen. “Of course you can go to the ball!” he said. “You have shorts upstairs in your drawer! And old shirts, and socks, and undies, and a pair of clippers you can put in the pouch on your hip!”

And so it came to pass that our Handsome Prince went to move the Root Ball.

It was a joyous affair, with hardly any swearing.

Our Hero dug and dug, all around the Great Big Magic Tree/Shrub Thingy, until the Great Root Ball came loose. And it was transferred to the new Great Hole that had been sunk into the Earth, which our Handsome Prince had also dug up all by himself instead of with the help of his Evil Companions.

And there was much rejoicing upon the land.

The Handsome Prince sprinkled Magic Bone Meal Dust into the hole and replaced the Earth and watered and watered.

Then it was time to leave the Great Root Ball or he would be late for the Great Championship inside the castle! He dashed off before the grateful Queen could discover who had performed for her this great service.

As she was admiring the work of our hero, she came upon some clippers.

“These must belong to my hero!” she wisely surmised. “I shall set out to find my Knight in Sweating Clothing and declare my love for him!” And so she departed the land and went into the castle.

She could not find the matching pouch for the clippers anywhere!

She searched and searched, until she happened upon our Handsome Prince, asleep in the dungeon where the Large Screen was, an empty pouch by his side.

She slid the clippers into the pouch – and they fit!

“This is my hero!” she said quietly to herself.

And she planted a kiss upon our sleeping Prince, and he did awaken suddenly, and he did smile wearily and did belch mightily upon the land.

And our beautiful Princess knew that all was right with the world once more.

The End.

New Sleep Descriptor

I have coined a new phrase which will increase my riches no end.

The new phrase I have created is "Bladder-stretching sleep." As in "I had the most wonderful, 4 hour, bladder-stretching sleep last night."

I intend to sell it to the leading English authorities, dictionaries, writers and the like.

Your cards and letters are welcome.

Thank you.

Attention: Jam Manufacturers

Dear Jam Manufacturers.

I am writing to you today in protest.

On your labels, it clearly states that we should Refrigerate After Opening. I, and many others, must forcefully protest this directive.

Before I bring this action item to the full Food Rules Committee, might I point out that we are placing your jam or other condiment upon WARM toast? Have you any idea how jarring it is to feel cold jam upon nice, warm toast? This practise is clearly unacceptable and I am putting you on notice that I will henceforth place my opened jams and jellies in the pantry - where they belong!

I know this will allow dangerous bacteria to degrade my comestibles to the point of in-edibility (ie mold), but that will happen anyway. I understand that the penicillin-based life forms may cause my estate to sue your butt into oblivion once the CSI team determines the cause of my premature demise as a result of their consumption, but I feel this risk is worth taking, and so should you.

Perhaps you could create a separate brand of jams or jellies with more preservatives in them, such that they would be better suited to pantry storage and not refrigeration. Granted, this level of preservatives would cause my entire digestive system to completely collapse, according to leading health authorities - those being clerks in vitamin supplement stores. Still I must insist on this course of action.

Cold jams and jellies have their place, of course. Cold jam upon peanut butter in a sandwich we have no quarrel with. The minor temperature variations are of no great concern in this regard.

We, the Warm Toast Preservation Alliance (there is a subtle humour in the title there - Preservation...preserves...get it? Oh nevermind), officially demand action on this important refrigeration matter.

For and on Behalf of the Toast And Permissable Condiments Committee I remain,

Your Humble Servant.

An Eyerub To Remember

It was one of those eye rubs that really feel great and one that I simply didn’t want to end.

You know those ones where you start to rub your eyeballs and you wind up gasping and moaning and just really getting into it? Man it was awesome. My eyes tingled afterwards like you wouldn’t believe. I exhaled loudly out of sheer enjoyment.

The other people at the City Council meeting did not enjoy it quite so much. Based on the looks I got anyway.

Wave Rider

I finally tried the Sinus-Cleaner-Outer/Ballistic Enema/Surfing machine at the new pool on the weekend.

It is an artificial wave thing that has jets of water shooting up a curved incline, directly into your nasal passages.

What we beginners are supposed to do is lay belly down on a tiny surf board at the top of the wave, and schuss gracefully down the watery hill, smashing into the lifeguards ankles at the bottom.

This I did unexpectedly well.

So there I was, stuck on the lower platform. In my mind’s eye I looked like a buff surfer dude. In reality I probably looked like an overweight killer whale at an aquarium who has just earned a fish by sliding up onto the deck and now has to lurch awkwardly backwards to return to the water.

Like the killer whale in my brilliant analogy, I too thought of taking a chomp out of the lifeguard’s leg.

Instead, I gracefully walrus-flopped back to the edge of the platform and began sliding onto the water shooting underneath me.

In order to slow the pace of my rearward hurtle, I also began swallowing most of the water jetting towards me at the thirst-quenching rate of 900 gallons per second.

Not only did the fluid irrigate my innards, the jetting water had also caught the waistband of my swim trunks and removed them with such speed and finesse that I did not notice their rapid departure.

I was later told they went sailing up and almost over the attending lifeguard positioned at the top of the wave. She did not see them coming and was splatted in the head and knocked to the ground, tangled in what appeared to be a two person canvas tent.

Because of the rushing water I didn’t feel a thing, other than an interesting sensation in the region of my hangdowns. Nor could I hear much because of the noise of the ‘rapids’. I thought the cheering and pointing from onlookers was a result of my surprising skill and grace at negotiating these hazardous, frothy waters.

I smiled proudly as my bare behind flashed its blinding, hairy whiteness to the crowd.

Mothers hid their children’s faces. Dads pointed and laughed. Grandparents on the viewing balcony squinted and clutched their chests at the sight.

Inexplicably, someone yelled a movie title at me. I think.

“Something something ‘Free Willy’!” he yelled, pointing, to which I replied “Yes they should!” or something like that. I was busy and couldn’t quite comprehend why I was having this bizarre conversation with someone I hadn’t even been introduced to.

It was about this time that I achieved a perfect state of equilibrium between the downward force of gravity and the upward force of rushing water.

I got stuck.

Perched somehow at the very top of the incline, my lower parts being forcefully yet gently massaged by the sweetly caressing water, I could neither move up, down nor sideways. I thought this was fine and dandy so there I lay for some minutes, hovering at the peak of the wave, smiling rapturously at the slightly alarmed-looking crowd, until I caught an edge somehow and joined the tumbling mirth, skidding into the splashdown area.

Seeing my swim trunks laying on the grate, I finally understood why all the lifeguards were now surrounding me with towels and disturbed looks on their youthful faces.

I understand the movie “Free Willy” is about a large, good-natured whale that experiences freedom and joy by flying through the water and air using its blubbery yet sleek, naked body.

I think I’ve seen it.