I suddenly remember that I had started posting Alien-esque titles to blog posts I didn’t have a good title for. Now I’ve started with the whole “Hodgepodge” thing. My bad. I’ll switch back next time.
This week – hell, the last month – has been spectacularly horrible. Craptacular, as my brother-in-law would put it. It’s not even been one thing after another – it’s been several things at the same time, and then several more things on top of that. I’m overwhelmed and emotionally drained.
Needless to say, there is a carton of ice cream in my freezer and I’m not afraid to eat it in one sitting. (Mom – put down the phone! Just because I want to doesn’t mean I will. But that bottle of tequila is looking mighty good right now.)
Things I saw on my walk the other night:
- A huge bug on its back. I would have flipped it over, but the thing was the size of my hand, and I figured it would probably attack me if I did. So I just moved it over to the side, where there was a chance it could flip itself over after I had gone on my merry way and not attack me.
- A loon.
- Someone flying one of those glider things. Like in Fly Away Home? I can’t remember what they’re called.
I forgot to mention in my adventure post that the dragonflies in Dryden were super-huge. Like, they were the Hercules of the dragonfly word. When normal dragonflies dive-bomb you, it’s like “Tee hee! That tickles!” When those monsters dive-bomb you (as they did to me), it’s more like “OW! #$%&*! That HURT!” Nor would the little bastards sit still long enough for me to take their picture.
Why is it that I can go on stage and dance in front of 200+ people in a gold bra, but I can’t walk across my parking lot wearing my spandex yoga pants in front of maybe ten people who happen to be looking in the right direction at the right time? I usually end up wearing my nylon splash pants over them, and it’s too warm at this time of year to do that, really. (The yoga pants are what I wear to dance class.)
Last night after bellydancing, I went out with the rest of the Lame White Girl Posse (Karen, Kris, Marty, and Andrea, who is representing the Kitchener chapter) to the Laughing Buddha, a cafe downtown, to celebrate Marty’s graduation.
For my mother who asked (and the two of you who are still interested), the singer I made reference to the other day was Rufus Wainwright. That boy has a set of pipes on him, but I really didn’t like that song. (I watched the extras DVD – turns out his father and sister were also in the movie as singers in the Coconut Club during different eras. Cool.)
Speaking of Wainwright, I found possibly the best cover of a George Michael song EVER yesterday – Wainwright and Ben Folds covering “Careless Whisper” (why can’t I find the link anymore?) Does anyone want to go to their concert in Toronto in August with me?
Six more months until Christmas Eve!