Crikey!

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I love reptile limbs. They remind me of muppets how they don't really seem to have joints and they're just sort of floppy.

Can you imagine seeing this guy in the wild? Eating a bucket? That would be so scary. Today on my bike ride to work I saw a goose. It seems all innocent, but this goose was out for blood I tell you! Here's the full story of the goose:

It started months ago when I first spotted a stray goose on a little side road that I take on my way to work. I thought "Oh, a goose!" and then "He's all alone. He must be lost". I actually worried about this goose. I don't like seeing geese by themselves. But a couple days later there were two geese and they walked around the road like they owned the place. Like their farts don't stink, ya know?

Some astute readers of this complete waste of time blog may remember mention of another goose run-in with a family member of mine. My mother was knocked off her bike by a goose. Now I don't know what my family ever did to geese, but apparently we drew first blood and geese don't forget that. So it makes me weary you know, this unspoken feud my family shares with geese. I could feel it in my bones. I was next.

So this morning I'm bicycling along my route to work when I take a left turn (as always) onto a little quiet block. At the very end of the block in the middle of the road, stands a goose. I bike towards him, my heart racing, my nose dripping with anticipation (I have a cold). He starts honking. He takes a few steps towards me as I get closer and honks louder and more insistent. Frantic honking. Honking for his life. I go "whoa" and swerve around him using my super duper bike skills. He looked pissed. I won this round. Take that, Goose! As I pedaled away I saw a taxi cab come to a complete stop in front of the goose. I couldn't bear to watch the bloodbath that this goose most definitely had in store for these unsuspecting passengers, these next victims in his bloody killing spree. I just couldn't bear it. So I'm at work now. My safe goose-free work.

And that's that.

OR IS IT?

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Yellow Frogs!

via Dear Libby

Ready for a story about my childhood? Excited? Me neither, but it's Monday so what do you have to lose? Some dignity, sure, but just deal with it, ok?

It was maybe 1992, sort of around the time where I was wearing tights underneath my jean shorts and maybe tried to wear eyeliner with disastrous results. I had a friend named Kendyl that was talented and funny and whose mom and sister called me "Piñata". I do not know how that name came to be, but it was awesome. (It's probably because you associate piñatas with partytime, and that's totally what I was like at eleven - super happy fun partytime. And then crying. Lots of crying. Oh man, all that crying!).

So one gorgeous summer day, Kendyl and I decided to draw on the sidewalks with sidewalk chalk. Well, Kendyl did all the drawing and I coloured it in. She's an amazing artist, see? So I would go around colouring in her creations while ladies walked by and complimented me on how good they were, and I was all, "natch", because I read that word in Archie comics a lot.

She lived in a sort of apartment complex that had all these townhouses in an area with all these sidewalk paths going between them so we drew/coloured all over the place. Then we decided it would be funny to draw these yellow frog type gang signs all over the place so people would think there's a new gang in town called Yellow Frogs, with two bad ass members (one of them named Piñata). People would be so confused and terrified and excited by this idea, hey?

But we were foiled by a grumpy landlady who hates fun. She made us adorable little pre-teens wash off the drawings with a hose. Isn't that a sad scene? A hose! It's like we literally washed away our fun and youth into those city drains. But that art nazi couldn't wash away our memories! Those yellow frogs will remain in our hearts and minds forever and ever...memories of a long ago time, a simpler time, but a time filled with strife and sarcasm and endless sidewalks of possibilities. A time of petty struggles and angst-filled youth. A time of dusty boot straps and bloody protests in the street fueled by rage and poverty and tequila... I could go on and on.

No? Ok.

Jive Talk

I know I'm usually a good for nothin' mop that's out of the world mellow stage, but things are gonna change MAN. I'm not gonna hold back the dawn. So find yourself a groovy little stash and dig what I'm puttin' down, cats.

 

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 I bought me a trumpet. Even though I don't be stickin', I just had to get it, man. You dig?

Ya, me neither. It only works when I push down the third key. Oh, I'll make such beautiful music!

Get This!

I'm using twitter now. Or sort of. I'm not good at it. I have nothing to say, except things about poop. But this is me: @DianaRainer.

Mid-Century Album Covers

So, what I found interesting and exciting and hilarious this week:

This guy standing on his head lots.

Little monkeys racing little cars. Part of me thinks it's terrible to get animals to do stupid things like that, but, well it's monkeys in cars. Moral dilemma settled. It's cute!

Nose candy app. Come on, people.

An adorable letter from a 9 year boy that thinks he knows how to "make people and animals alive" and just needs a little help getting some supplies (like "tools for cutting people open").

I want to live in a Brachiosaurus! He's my favourite.

Cats that look like Hitler.

Donkey saves sheep friend from angry dog. I should read the news more often.

Nope! Nope, I shouldn't. Obese man fused to chair.

Oh. Wait. Sheep give birth to dog.

Hope everyone has a good weekend, full of magic and mystery and mayhem! Not me. I'm having a cat night tonight. I had a dream I let in a wolverine and it ate one of my cats, so I'm sort of trying to process that emotionally by spending extra time with them and talking to them like they're people. But really, I'll probably just yell at them when they stand in front of the tv. (My shows!)