A Christmas Walmart Tale

December 11th, 2017

Last night, in an ill-conceived plan to avoid traffic and crazy people, I decided to take a trip to my (not exactly favourite place) Walmart. Walmart, on a normal people schedule is a hotbed for insanity, where all your deepest, most perverted, stabby nightmares live and breathe and clog up the cheese aisle with their sticky offspring. So 9 p.m. on a Sunday night is going to be deliciously, decadently free of such wanton depravity, am I right?

Turns out, no, I am not right.

I should've gauged the situation the second I entered the underground parking lot to see pockets of dazed, zombiesque individuals lurking around randomly, with no apparent purpose, peering into empty carts and glancing around like they're hiding from something. Then there's the occasional car driving through empty parking spaces like the car equivalent of "dance like there's no one watching".

Since the place was nicely empty, I parked near the escalator for the sake of a) laziness, and b) I'm a lady who doesn't enjoy the notion I might get pummeled into unconsciousness and thrown into the back of some serial killer's Trailblazer (because you know it's always a Trailblazer) if I park away from the entrance at night. I made my way upstairs and inside to the safety of the....uh, yeah. No. The inside was just as perplexing.

I bade a cheerful "good evening!" to the security guy on the door, who looked a lot like an ex-boxer only less charming, and was gifted with a look that suggested that not a lady, but slimy, bulbous slug had addressed him. Which...truthfully, I wasn't dressed as my best self or anything but I wasn't that bad.

I wheeled my retarded cart that squealed like it was being tortured and tickled at the same time, around the grocery section, avoiding the plethora of inexplicable Indian ladies who seem to frequent the WalMart at night (probably thinking wrongly, like me, that they'd avoid the crazies) and weird, solo, furtive looking dudes who seem nervous all the time, and that guy who likes to stand in the produce section fingering kiwis.

The fruit that is, not New Zealanders. Just so we're clear.

While waiting in line at the cashier, with my fantastical booty of kitchen sponges, brussel sprouts, bread, tonic water, and the big bag of chips I'd procured as payment for my ordeal, some dude ambled up behind me and picked up the hoodie I'd placed on the conveyer with the rest of my loot. Like MY hoodie, I was planning to fork over twelve goddamn dollars for. I gave him the Assassin look of "Oh no you di'nt!" thinking he'd pee his pants in terror and put it right back, but no. No, he starts looking at it and checking the other side of it like he might want to buy it.

Um. No, guy. That is MY hoodie. I snatched it out of his hands with the authority of someone who is so in charge of matters. I don't think so, hoodie stealing fucknut. Then he had the audacity to suggest I was being rude.

Seriously. This is Walmart in a nutshell to me. Cheap groceries and hoodies, and deranged fucknuts who'll steal your shit right off the conveyer.

I then drove home on empty roads (AWESOME!) singing ABBA loudly, and stopped in the harbour to admire the Christmas lights, the end.

There is no point to this story except to say, what the actual fuck?

This Week's Public Announcement: The Cleanliness of Your Car Reflects Your Veg-a-Rating

December 6th, 2017

There's a thing I've noticed and it's that people are giant, pulpy, slobby beings much of the time. I say this because it's astounding to me how many people don't mind their cars being stuffed full of crap.

Whenever I see such a vehicle, know that I am making judgments about you. Petty little snide judgments about your general level of stank and assessing my need for a Hazmat suit before entering. It always surprises me, because I thought it was a movie thing, where the teenage girl/boy has an old car and it's just a massive germ factory of wrong, filled with fast food wrappers and cups and general dismay. But I see it in real life too and not just from kids.

My own little run around car is ancient. It probably knew a few actual dinosaurs in its heyday, before I knew it, and it possibly once had square wheels, I'm not sure. But it is clean. I dust it regularly. I never leave trash in it. I have a canvas tote in the back to hold anything I need to stow or deal with temporarily. If I have a coffee in it (and I do, regularly) I take the cup out and throw it away immediately. I just thought everyone did. Turns out no, they do not, and I am some sort of OCD, maniac Martha Stewart. I'm not even an overly tidy person in general, sometimes I will procrastinate dusting my house for two weeks, and you do not want to see my underwear drawer, but man, the car thing is like a litmus test for insanity if you ask me.

Now the OUTSIDE is another matter. I have been in my current city for three years now and I have NEVER been to a car wash. You heard me. I have, however, washed it by hand maybe five times and it rains all winter, so you just shut up, it gets plenty of water cleaning manna. I live by the sea and it's windy a lot, and I have to park under a tree all the time, so it's never clean for more than a day. So what's the point in all that effort?

The Queen of Hyposcrisy has spoken.

When Winter Attacks

December 4, 2017

Someone (Bill) kicked my ass and so I'm making a post to tantalize (!) you all, as the seasons have changed once more, and that means updates must be provided. I'm told this is a law.

It's gotten chilly. Good chilly, where you step outside at night and breathe in that cool, lung-cooling sea air. The sort of chilly where you can still get away with a thick sweater and no coat, but you don't dare eat a peppermint and take a deep breath. Then you step inside and have to put on the heater, a blanket, and that same sweater, thick enough to insulate an igloo. I like it. Sadly, it's also rainy season here so days that aren't chilly are wet, and that means my wipers are getting a workout and stopping distances have increased. At least it's not ice.

In an attempt at frivolous festivity, I put the Christmas tree up last week. This is uncommonly early for me. Usually I'm a "not till December and even then, you wait a week" mentality, but what with the grey skies and the rain I just wanted a nice, pretty-lighted pick me up. So I opened some wine (as encouragement because wine helps make all pleasant tasks ten times more pleasant) and did it. And I've been smug and pleased with myself since. I like nice lights and a TV fireplace - I prefer a real fireplace but as I don't have one, Netflix fireplace it is - Now I have coloured lights UP THE WAZOO and all my extremities are happy.

It was my birthday the other day as well, so the two things sort of overlapped and made November less of a grey monotony. I have a helium birthday balloon hanging from the tree top in fact. If hanging is the right word here (it isn't), since it's floating up. I like a measure of confusion with my festivities. I will say, about the birthday, there was a rather wonderful cappuccino cake with gooey chocolate topping and real, fresh cream filling. Oh my God. I thought I'd gone to heaven. I don't have cake much these days so I wanted to stick my whole face in it. I didn't, however, as I am a lady. Or I had company, one of those things. If I'd been alone, sure, I'd have gorged myself silly, like a zombie in the ball pit at Ikea.

Anyway, winter has brought with it some awesome stormy skies. Here's a photo I took last week or so, of it looking all dramatic and sexy.

And here's a boring phone one from this morning of my favourite coffee shop - my car! Cheers.

Not that I'm anti-social or anything. Well not much. Okay, I sort of am. I'd have coffee with YOU of course, but you weren't here.

Other than this I'm working and driving between printers and grocery stores and Starbucks way too much, and pretty much being a-ok. I wish I had something more juicy for you but hey. I'm not your Netflix, buddy.

Merry Christmas Hanukkah Kwanzaa things! Say hi.

Seasonal Check In

It's funny how the moment the calendar becomes September, I have the urge to go buy some ugly, but oh so soft, slippers, new PJs and some candles. That's autumn to me. Nice lighting and enough cosy, woolly products to smother an entire kindergarten. Particularly when I'm living in a really old, nineteenth century house, that doesn't know what insulation is.

And of course, wine. I mean wine's for every season, it's true, but it just goes along with all the cosy, no? It does, because I live inside of a Hallmark movie.

Talking of movies, (because damn if I cannot segue like a boss!) I just need some good horror movies, because those also go with autumnal things. Trouble is, there are so few good ones. There are about three trillion terrible horror movies, however. If anyone has any suggestions of some good ones I might not have seen, let me know! I'm not big on paranormal type horrors, or anything that's just a jump-scare slasher film. I like tense! Tense and slow building, and the less gory the better, although I make exceptions. I guess I like horror/thrillers maybe?

Talking of horror movies, I vacuumed under the bed the other day. Yikes. You don't want to know what sinister underworld was occurring down there. I needed a stiff shot of something strong to recover.

Nothing much else to say, so here's a poster I made for fun, a few months ago, of an evil ginger troll in a bathtub full of money while the world burns. You are absolutely welcome.

Tripping My Face Off (Part One)

So my regular checking in with the blog thing is going well, huh?

Yes, sarcasm. Duh.

Since I last posted I've been on another trip. Now before you all go assuming I'm such rich, jet setting drifter, I'd like to point out that I am most certainly not. It just panned out that way. Two trips in two months, how decadent. It'll be a hell of a long time till the next one though, I'm thinking.

My latest trip was a road trip because I think by now, you all know how much I adore those. If it moves, takes me new places, is hot and sunny, and doesn't involve going anywhere NEAR a plane, I'm in.

How many states were we in this trip? TEN. One zero. In seventeen days. I'll let you go on thinking how impressive that is, then admit that actually some of them were just short pass throughs. Still ten. Yeah!

I took a ton of pictures I'm not going to bore you with, and a few I am. Sorry. But not that sorry. I mean you have a  back button right? And think how even more boring this post would be without pictures. Right?

Firstly it was mid June. Our first stop was Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. Most of it was still closed due to huge snow drifts everywhere, but we got to see the crater from the one part that was open, and tremble at its awe inspiring beauty. And the fact it was 40 degrees F. In June.

See? Snow. That should be illegal, I'm just saying. I was wearing boots and a winter coat for crying out loud. Still I enjoyed eating leftover pizza and staring at it before heading down the mountain to our hotel a half hour away. Where it was 90 degrees. Hello flip flops!

From there we headed to Nevada - Virginia City to be exact, so I could see some old mining town stuff and that hundred mile view they have. And eat some decent Mexican food. They weren't kidding about the view. I have no photo that can do it justice however. Sorry. I sort of built that up for no reason. Our trip was officially starting in Lake Havasu City, so all this stuff was just passing through en route.

Our drive south to Nevada, through California, was just stunning. I'd never been that part of California before and was amazed how pretty it was. Just vista after vista, lakes and mountains. This is Mono Lake:

From there we headed south as we were staying the night in Beatty, NV at the super awesome, quirky little Atomic Inn. We were the only guests so it was like having an entire motel to ourselves. Quiet, comfortable, cool, and the air conditioning was spot on, which, since it was 100 plus degrees, was mandatory. Thinking about it, that's probably why we were the only guests. Most normal people are nowhere NEAR Death Valley in the summer.

Remember I said quirky? It's because the Atomic Inn is all vaguely themed around Nevada's atomic past and the rooms and decor reflect that. Ours was full of sixties' Russian space related art and era furniture. Loved the place. Here's the exterior. Tell me this doesn't have my name all over it.

That little, green guy was totally friendly too.

Since we were on the edge of my favourite place on Earth, Death Valley, and we had most of a day left, we did a quick tour of some of our favourite spots there. I've been to DV so many times now, it's like going home. You know...if home was a pizza oven.

That happened.

You have to love Death Valley. Every time I go there it tries even harder to kill me. I forgive it though, it's so pretty. Here's the Mesquite Dunes.

In the evening, we hung around our other favourite spot, Rhyolite, NV and watched the sun set.

My desert ghosts. I've only ever seen them in daytime before.

Also, I always photograph this old truck. There's been a fire since I last was here, so it's even more messed up.

Anyway, the next day we were headed to our next stop which was Parker Dam in Arizona, near Lake Havasu City. However, we like to take detours, so we went via Amboy, California, where I've been before and enjoyed. So remote and set firmly in the past, on the remains of the old Route 66. Here are a couple of photos I took of the famous Roy's sign and the motel.

We reached Parker eventually, and had a few days there to recuperate from the hot drive down, and to swim in Lake Havasu. Because why not? It was wonderful. Since it was 120 degrees the lake was the only place to be. Of course I got a sunburn despite my sunscreen. And the air conditioning back at our hotel kept cutting out as the heat was so excessive. At one point we went and sat in the car just to cool down.

We did get to see wild burros though!

How yoo doin'?

After a couple days trying not to dehydrate in Havasu, we headed for a few days in Tucson. I've always wanted to go to Tucson, and it didn't disappoint me at all, despite the fact we didn't actually do much city stuff at all. I'd never seen a Saguaro in real life before. I was beyond excited, as I'm a bit odd like that.

Look at them all. Oh my God...

We hit both parts of the Saguaro National Park because there are literally not enough cacti for me. I bought a t-shirt because of course I did.

We also went to the Pima Air and Space Museum in Tucson, which was fabulous and I got to go touch an actual NASA Superguppy. Look! It's all shrinked up for protection from the hot, desert sun. There's nothing in the picture that shows scale, but it was HUGE.

I didn't even mind the ten minute hike in 115 degree heat to get to it either. I did sort of regret it when I ran out of iced tea and realized I still had a ten minute walk back.

We also took the tour out to the airplane boneyard at Monthan Davis Airforce Base which I loved. You can't get off the bus though, so I don't have many pics from there. It was fascinating however. I've been checking it out on Google Earth for years.

I think that's about enough for now before you all nod off. Part two later, when I can be assed.

Hope your summer's going as well!

This Escalated Quickly

Summer's well and truly here in Veggie land. Blue skies, warmth, golden shadows, snow topped mountains. It's all so peaceful.

At least it is peaceful Sunday through Wednesday. Serene. I get my morning coffee and drive down to one of my favourite look out points to drink it, overlooking the ocean and the mountains and the wild flowers, and all is right with the world.

Then Thursday rolls around and the first of the week's cruise ships roll into port, a kilometer from my house, making loud honks that make your stomach lurch, and producing an alarming stream of horses and carriages, pedicabs, coaches, and taxis, parading endlessly past the house en route to make some money off of those passengers.

And there are so many of them.

Three quarters appear to be very excitable Asian tourists, chattering, swarming, and carting giant cameras. They seem to enjoy it here, they travel en masse, and are particularly fond of standing right at crossings even though they're not crossing, making me stop for no reason, when all they're doing is looking at something across the street. Either that or I'm driving through and one decides to just jump in front of me without warning. Those guys are driving me to drink, I swear.

They also are extraordinarily fond of selfie sticks. You never see a white, black, Indian, or middle Eastern individual with a selfie stick. But almost all the Chinese, Japanese, and Korean ladies seem to carry one along with their lipstick. It's fascinating. Must be a cultural thing.

So from Thursday till Sunday it's touristville. Which is nice, seeing people in your town having fun and enjoying the scenery. Even when it's a little annoying at times.

Sadly, a lot of the tourists here are people like the woman I encountered this morning, who appeared to have some sort of problem driving over 25 kmph, turning me into a huge, sweary asshole inside my car, as I was trying to get somewhere on the narrow coast road, yelling to myself, "It's a 50 zone you fucks!" because clearly I'm some sort of unashamed speed demon, who probably hasn't had her coffee yet. But I get it. You're looking at the pretty view and it's lovely, good for you.

But good god woman, you're in a car, move your ass.

25 kmph, I ask you! May a crow shit on your head, ma'am.

Thank God it's Friday.

Disjointed Nonsense!

I just got back from visiting my mum for a couple of weeks. It was a whirlwind visit consisting of six flights, much turbulence, jet lag, and eating the approximate equivalent gross national product of a small nation, while consuming enough alcoholic beverages to sink a tanker if placed on top of it just right.

The trip itself though - the trip was laborious, to say the least. Those flights were long and by the third flight on the outbound journey - where it turned out I had not one but two (TWO!) loud, unhappy toddlers seated directly behind me and one of them was clearly beating the back of my seat with an oar or something - I would've happily watched Donald Trump have relations with a hippopotamus, if it meant avoiding getting on board another plane.

Actually, I'd watch that any day! Although I'd feel for the hippo.

It didn't help that when my second flight landed in lovely Halifax, Nova Scotia - I assume it is lovely, I wouldn't know - stuff looked like this:

Yeah, that is fog. We had a fuel thing going on though - blah blah, I don't want to know about ways you're possibly trying to kill me, WestJet - so we got to land, whereas a lot of flights were less lucky. I say "lucky" but I'm not sure that's the word. "Bumpy" might be better. "Skiddy" would certainly be accurate. Did I hurl though? I did not. My innards remained in place. You'd be so proud.

This photo, incidentally, is the exact moment of touchdown, because rest assured, even when landing in severe wind and fog, and thinking death is imminent, I will still do the world a solid by getting out my phone and taking a photo. You're welcome.

In the airport, I had a five hour wait, which was just as awesome as it sounds. A one hour flight, a five hour flight, followed by a five hour wait, followed by a six hour flight? Yes please. Just sign me up for that ALL OF THE MONOTONY. I filled the five hours by stuffing sandwiches down my food hole and rocking in a rocking chair while staring at the fog in a trance. See my fantastic view below:

YUP.

All airports should have rocking chairs. Seriously. This video might work if you have flash player, but whatever. PRETEND.

Anyway, I finally got to Scotland and it was sunny, which both delighted and terrified me, because usually, the second I arrive, the heavens open and the rain apocalypse comes, but seeing sunshine was unexpected and ominous. What could it mean? End of times? I had mysteriously landed on some parallel universe version of Scotland? I watch "Star Trek" I know what goes on. I mean who knows where we went in all that fog?

I celebrated the fact I was alive and had been awake for over 24 hours, by having a soothing beverage at my sister's house while grinning crazily and talking to the cat.

Don't panic though. That might be the only non alcoholic drink to pass my lips in twelve days.

Some other day when I wasn't consuming a vat of delicious food or punishing my liver, we took some dogs out for a walk in the woods, which was nice and gave me some exercise. The weather was so great, I still don't quite believe it.

That lab never stopped moving. I mean seriously, he was like a tiny, canine hurricane. Also, there's no delicate way to put this, but I never saw a dog produce such immense piles of excrement as this dog. It was like....seasoned mountaineers would get lost on those things. No, there is no picture. Again, you're welcome.

Did I mention there was alcohol? Rhubarb vodka cocktails in the garden, yes please!

I spent a fair bit of time at my sisters where we cooked and ate and drank (see above and below). I think this next photo accurately shows the ratio of those activities...

There are VEGETABLES there, don't give me your crap!

I also got to hang out with my friends too which was great. We had dinner (of course!) and one day we headed to the beach and had more delicious food then a hearty walk on the beach, even though a gale was blowing. We're not afraid of no stinking weather, however! No Sir. 

I did cry when I combed my hair, however.

A colorful log. Why not? Then it got greyer.

That weather wants to mess with me.

After the beach, we had ice cream sodas and I had a hot date with this guy. He's all about pillaging. Yes those ARE palm trees! In Scotland. I know, right!

At some point, on some other day, cocktails were had in the city, with my sister. Things are a tad hazy but I do remember how good they were and how expensive, and also full of fruity, hardcore goodness. See? Vitamins people! One of these is rhubarb and custard flavor. All I can say is YES. They are both pink because I am a lady. My sister's drink on the right had a chili on it, which is clearly blasphemous in a beverage, but she swears it was fabulous.

It's possible we had more than one drink. It's only polite.

Fizzy!

OK, we had several, sue me.

After all that, we had food, I lost the will to live, and at some point there was a train ride, after which I was home and took off my pants in case I bent over and accidentally shot someone in the face with a button blasting off from the strain.

Eventually my liver quit and I decided to fly home. Another three flights that made me want to stick pins in my own eyes. This time I had no toddlers kicking my seat and screeching, so that was an instant score and the entire flight was in daylight, although I kept annoyingly travelling back in time until I had no concept of anything whatsoever. Which is about normal for me.

I did get to fly over the Rockies when it wasn't cloudy for once though!

So now I'm home. And summer's here. And I'm at work although clearly I'm not because I'm typing this dribble. 

And because you can't have everything.