Had enough of the freaking Christmas spirit?
This might help.
I think I’ve heard this one
Hi kids
I swim about twice a week at a pool that has changerooms as a corridor between the entrance and the pools (designed to encourage swimmers to shower before they swim – most people, like me, just wear swimmers under their clothes).
I was delayed a little at the front desk because someone was in front of me – a blind man. He had a cane, and although it was clear he was familiar with where solid objects were, when he reached out to the checkout girl he was a little bit off.
I noticed all this, and stayed behind him as he went inside (rather than walking around and in front of him, as I’d usually do when someone walked that slowly). That was why I saw him walk straight into the women’s changeroom.
So. Many. Questions.
“I should tell him” met “Does it matter?” in my mind, and I didn’t say a word.
In utterly unrelated news, I wrote a good (and brief) entry on basic Muslim stuff at https://twittertales.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/muslim-headshawl/. In my opinion, every Westerner who doesn’t have a Muslim friend should read it.
#222: Kidnap Your Date
You know it’s gonna be a good date when you take your partner in the car looking like this:
I took a circuitous path to the secret location, and CJ was soon lost.
My cunning plan was to walk him onto a certain island at just the right time, leaving the blindfold on until a certain sound happened, when he’d suddenly know where he was. Sadly, the route I’d taken was too circuitous, and we were about five minutes late. CJ didn’t mind. He realised where we were the instant I opened the car door.
Yep, the National Carillon. It’s usually playing from 12:30-1:20 on Sundays (pause as Louise casts a subtle eye toward the followers of this blog who have brand new boyfriends*). They played, among other pieces, “Yellow Submarine”, “The Addams Family” and the strangely appropriate “He Had It Coming.”
I’ve written about the Crillon before, sometimes even for money (go on, click the link!)
The island itself is beautiful, and we walked all the way around (something I didn’t dare do by myself, since there’s a strong possibility of stumbling across a pair making out in one of the dozens of semi-secluded spots). Along the way we spotted a Mysterious Rat-Like Creature (sleek, furry, and about a foot long – not including a presumed tail) diving into the water. That was definitely a highlight. Was it an otter? Was it really a rat (it didn’t appear to come back up)? An escaped ferret? A secret governmental water camera?
Inquiring minds want to know (but never will).
I did at least get a photo of this guy, who obligingly posed for about twenty minutes. Sit, Bobo! Stay!
We passed three patches of rose petals. I’m pretty sure that if CSI wanted to, they could analyse the rate of decomposition and work out exactly when the weddings occurred. Then they could analyse the level of sweat on the petals to determine how stressed the bridal party was, and extrapolate that into predicting whether the marriage will succeed or not.
With SCIENCE!!
CJ and I found a nice patch of grass, ate our lunch, and watched pleasure-boats pootle by.
I apologise for the above photo, featuring the High Court building. Lake Burley Griffin is surrounded by beautiful and/or intriguing buildings, and that’s just dead ugly. CJ said it was a product of its time – and that’s certainly true. There was a time when sheer naked concrete was considered special. But this is not that day. THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!!**
I feel a little sorry for those who paid to go on a ferry and meander past all these gorgeous islands without the fun of being able to dig their bare toes into the cool grass.*** Suckers.
Once we’d had lunch, CJ promptly and picturesquely fell asleep.
Tomorrow’s awesomeness is a reader suggestion – “Go entirely barefoot for one day”, which I’m actually still doing today. I’d forgotten that the island of the National Carillon is built entirely on duck poo and prickles.
The things I do for you people. And CJ and I are going out again after dinner.
So tomorrow’s blog will include pics of my death-defying Carillon island tree climb, and a fashion shoot of how dirty my feet end up after all our adventures.
Coming soon: Tomorrow is also when our initial ebay time runs out, and we may or may not (probably not) get money. I’ll let you know. Also coming soon: Archery. ZOMBIE WALK!! Watchwords. Facebook friends. And more.
In completely different news, here is an article on modern piracy (the kind with cellphones, governmental corruption/weakness, and weapons that kill innocent people). Modern piracy costs around $13 billion a year.
http://www.criminaljusticeusa.com/blog/2009/10-shocking-facts-about-modern-day-pirates/
*Two, that I know of.
**And duck poo.
***Ask Aragorn. He knows.
How much do YOU love the internet?
Ubergeeks John Scalzi and Wil Weaton have done something wonderful. This:
Other than writing stuff themselves, they had various other (in)famous people contribute, plus they ran a competition (based on the picture). Which I didn’t win.
The book itself is, technically, free. You can go read it at http://unicornpegasuskitten.com/. But since the whole point of the thing is to raise money for lupus sufferers (Wil and John paid for everything out of their own pockets), see if you can donate $5. Or maybe more.
Because sometimes, it is lupus.
However, here’s the story I wrote. All things being equal, the stories from the book are better than this. So go click on the link and enjoy.
“Kitten Spit”
I woke as my face was scraped raw by warm sandpaper coated in slime. Something monstrous had found me, and its spit dissolved my skin. I opened my eyes to a view of needle-sharp teeth, and gagged at the stench of salmon as the thing yawned.
“Good kitty,” I croaked.
It was taller than me, even without the wings spreading from its shoulders. Since my cave had a prudently small opening, only its head could fit inside – if it angled itself so the horn on its forehead didn’t scrape the roof. I scrambled back before it could lick me a second time. Blood dripped down my neck. I healed myself by magic before the thing attacked again.
“Where did you come from?” I said aloud.
“Well,” came a voice from outside, “when a unicorn and a pegasus and a cat all love each other very much –”
“No I meant—oh actually, that does answer one question. May I ask who you both are, and what you and your – er, noble steed – are doing here?”
“Are you the orc magician?” The voice was curiously flat, as if the man was mortally exhausted.
My heart sank. Even among other magicians, that question always led to an awkward conversation followed by an even more irritating battle. I had thought living on an active volcano would discourage further inquiry. “Just because I have green skin, pointy ears, and incredibly well-developed muscles doesn’t mean I’m going to kill you.” Under my breath I added, “Like all the others.”
The kitten retreated as someone tugged on its reins. Not for the first time, I was glad I slept in full armor.
A human stood by the lava river outside my cave. Other than his sweater, he was unarmed.
I took an involuntary step backward and hit stone. “That’s –”
“Yes,” he said, looking away. “The clown sweater. I need you to kill me.”
I looked at his young face and saw the deep worry lines of a man possessed by the most diabolical fiend of our time. “But. . . you’re immune. And besides, we’ve just met.”
“I’m Wil.”
“John. But –”
“I’m not immune.”
“Then how?”
“Sometimes, it sleeps.”
“Can you take it off?” I asked. “Can someone take it off you?”
His eyes glittered, but he held himself together. “I used to have three brothers.”
“Ah. So I’m dead then.”
“No! Kill me first and save your life. And she’s not a monster. She’s Petunia, and she just likes to play.” He pulled down a golden spear from her back. “Take it!”
“Don’t make me do this. Killing people is so. . .”
All colour fled his face, silencing me. “It’s waking up. The clown. It’s coming! Help me!” I saw his eyes turn mad just before he leapt onto Petunia’s back. He lifted the spear and smiled the serene smile of the deranged.
The awkward-conversation part of our friendship was at an end.
I grabbed my axe and shield and ran outside. Wil seemed decent. The least I could do was sever his head from his body.
Petunia leapt into the air and bore down on me with her claws splayed. Magic filled me, sparking from my fingertips. I jumped straight into Wil and we both tumbled to the rocks. Petunia crouched to watch us, switching her horse’s tail from side to side in excitement.
“Unicorns,” I thought frantically, searching for a weakness. “Good for looking picturesque with virgins. Not helpful right at the moment.”
Wil leapt at me, drooling with fury. I parried and his spear clashed against my armored shoulder.
“Pegasuses,” I thought. “Pegasi? Good for traveling long distances fast. But flighty.”
Petunia’s eyes glowed with mad kitten joy. Her pupils darkened and she waggled her rear end, ready to spring.
Wil spun with impossible speed and I ducked just in time. His foot connected with my head, but I magically dismissed the bright stars of concussion before they got me killed.
“Kittens,” I thought. “Nice to look at, if you like that sort of thing. Attracted to shiny things. Also a source of pure, unadulterated evil.” I blinked, and knew what to do.
Luckily for us, Petunia was already in the mood to play.
Wil lunged for my throat and I didn’t have time to dodge naturally. My magical defenses shot me fifty feet into the air. I had time to look down as I fell, curious to see if gravity would get a chance to kill me before the rest. Or perhaps I’d think of some further magical brilliance. Either way, I looked forward to finding out what happened next.
Petunia sprang at me. She batted me sideways in mid-air, knocking me into my cave. I landed on nice soft armor and watched with quiet surprise as magical sparks healed my broken legs. With one hand, I pointed to Wil. Pretty blue sparks danced an irresistible pattern on the clown’s red nose.
Petunia took the bait. She pounced and pinned Wil to the rock with one paw, biting into his sparkly chest as he screamed in pain and rage.
She spat something white and red and grinning into the lava river, where it dissolved. Then she sat on Wil’s legs and licked the hole that used to be his chest.
I staggered outside, dragging up what magic I had to try and heal him. Sparks flew off me into him, building new organs, growing new skin, and filling him with new blood.
It was no use. Petunia’s saliva ate through him faster than I could build him back
Wil didn’t move.
“The sweater is dead,” I said, falling on my knees beside him. “Long live the sweater.”
Petunia yawned emphatically and touched him with the tip of her horn. “Unicorns,” I thought. “Handy for fixing poison. Does that include kitten spit?”
THE END
PS This piece of awesomeness comes free of charge. Your regular schedule of Daily Awesomeness will continue tomorrow.
PPS Please do spread the word about this book. If you’ve ever had a disease of the immune system or known someone who has, you’ll understand why.
#137: Invent your own alphabet (and write something in it)
This was a suggestion by a linguistically-inclined reader. After spending some time working on making new symbols, rediscovering phonetics, and so on, I decided to throw away the darn thing.
My new choice of language is an unwritten one. I’ve called it, “Girl Talk” and I think you’ll find it’s super useful in everyday life. Instead of sign language, it’s a language that relies entirely on subtle facial cues.
Here are just a few useful phrases:
1. Is today Monday or Tuesday? I hope it’s Tuesday. Oh, please be Tuesday.
2. I’m going to eat your braaaaaiiiiinnnnsssss!
3. Touch me, and I’ll punch you in the nose.
4. Ask me if it’s my “special time of the month” and I’ll punch you in the nose.
5. Chocolate? For me? Aww.
6. Take away my chocolate, and I’ll punch you in the nose.
7. Give me more chocolate, or I’ll punch you in the nose.
8. You’re looking at me. Is that because I look fat??? Wait. . . do I have a duck on my head??? I hate that.
9. Cower in fear, puny man-minions, for this planet will not be yours for long.
And here’s a simple translation of man speak, for comparison purposes:
1. I have a hat.
2. And a beard!
3. Ooh look! A shiny thing!
Play along at home: When in doubt, buy someone chocolate. Or a hat. Keep in mind that some will interpret it as an insult (“does this mean you think I’m fat???”) and punch you in the nose. C’est la vie.
And here’s today’s “Peace Hostage” companion picture, from flickr.com:
#145: De-Motivational Posters
Ben sent me a huge list of suggestions, and this is just the beginning (Reverse Burglary and Secret # 6 are coming very soon). Feel free to post these anywhere you like, just link back here when you do.
Play along at home: Make your own de-motivational poster today!
. . . Monday Morning
I hate public holidays. No mail. (For a while this morning I felt quite good, because a new week had begun and publishers would be back at work. And then I remembered it’s a public holiday. Oh, foccacia.) Plus I generally lose income, because I work casually (or I have to work, like today, which is silly too). Those who read http://twittertales.wordpress.com will know I crashed especially badly last Friday. It felt very chemical (rather than “I am legitimately sad”) even at the time, so it’s probably to do with switching contraceptives. I’ll keep an eye out at this time next month.
Today I weigh 80.7. The weight loss has slowed to an agonising crawl (which is also how I’m currently moving around, since I’m feeling hungry again) but at least it’s going SOMEWHERE. Each day I expect a nice surprise (because I’ve earned it) but it hasn’t happened yet. When I do get under 80, I’m going to the lollyshop in Gungahlin – the one near Cockington Green.
On the up side, yesterday I put my cat in a fish tank. For those too lazy to click over to http://twittertales.wordpress.com, here’s all the pictures I took:
That may just have been the best two minutes I ever spent.
#124: Frolic in a Fountain
This is inspired by http://the-creamy-middles.blogspot.com. Thank you!
At the beginning of the day, I was scared the cops would take me down and/or put me in the slammer/big house/bad man can for today’s dastardly deed. When I looked at the colour of the water (and saw no glimpse of the bottom) my fears changed.
I had thought ahead and invited Canberra’s Master of Sarcasm, Ben. I told him to wear his most frolicsome attire. He did.
As you may have noticed, it’s raining. The day went from sunny to a thunderstorm (during exactly this period of time), then sunny again (immediately afterwards, although parts of the road were flooded). In this pic, you can see it’s a sunny day, with rain in the middle – and only in the middle.
When we reached the fountain, I passed the camera to the faithful Ben and headed bravely into battle. (Please note: I’m usually much manlier than I may appear in this clip. And I really was concerned that there might be some form of marine life lurking beneath the surface. I have frog fear.)
Pausing only to pay tribute to “La Dolce Vita”. . .
(http://www.independent.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00088/9295098_88665t.jpg)
I stepped under the spray for a properly frolicsome picture.
Shortly afterward, we fled the scene. I noticed as we walked away that I’d injured myself in the pursuit of awesomeness. My leg was cut, and I had a long trail of blood running down my leg and pooling in my left shoe.
Did I mention the water was green?
My skin, hair and clothes became increasingly itchy and flollopy on the way home, but it was DEFINITELY worth it. I was wet through and smelly, but exhilarated.
Play along at home: Find a fountain, and go frolic in it!
Tomorrow’s awesomeness plan: Share good news.
Bad, naughty hobbit
Sam is mean.
He’s a neon tetra, the tiniest thing in the tank (except for Frodo, the other neon tetra, who has at least learnt to hide now). Today I observed Sam biting Frodo, and was shocked. Shocked. It’s bad enough that Aragorn bit Frodo, but Aragorn’s a zebra danio, and those guys are nuts. But Sam? The faithful companion? Was Gollum right all along?!?!?!?!
Sam also bit Legolas today (Legolas is about ten times his size). He certainly has guts. Or is he possessed by Saruman, driven out of his mind by a giant flaming eye?
Frodo is at least living up to his name – he’s small, wide-eyed, perpetually terrified, and wins the “most likely to die” award hands down.
For those who don’t know/can’t tell, my mind is very much on the “Lord of the Rings” marathon happening at my house tomorrow (part of the http://twittertales.wordpress.com Daily Awesomeness). Eleven hours of static fun!
S#53: Be a tourist in your own city
Today my partner took a flex day (a paid day off he’s earned by doing overtime – probably the world’s best invention ever) and we and a friend of ours who I’ll call Hannah went and visited the Australian National Botanic Gardens.
Instead of dressing as a tourist (as per Steff Metal’s instructions), I dressed like a princess. All the better for crossing streams beside waterfalls. This article has been moved, and I get paid if you click through here.
Felicity Banks 