I Made This!

I've been crocheting a blanket!  Yes, really!  Because if summer's about anything it's about making things that can make you even warmer.  This beast was started a few years ago when I was trying to get through a great northern winter with my sanity intact, then I stopped when it got so large it was starting to create a shadow observable from space (and possibly speed up global warming), and now I've started it up again, on a quest to actually finish it this time.  Did I mention it's huge?  Like super-California-king sized huge?  Because it is. The photo's a little misleading, the colours are a little darker and brighter than they appear here.  Burnt orange, a yellowy-leaf green and a more orangey egg yolk yellow.  It looks like the seventies came along when I was asleep and threw up on it. It is THAT awesome.

How's your summer been so far? For me summer so far's been puzzling.  Lots of rain, thunderclouds and perplexing lack of real summer weather.  The few fantastically sunny days have been spent in the outdoors grinning like an idiot (I love summer) and the others have been spent scooping my bottom lip up off the floor at the disappointment of yet more rain.  I hope this stops soon.  I don't survive winter for this nonsense in the summer.  Please let someone in charge know.

As you were.

Land of Ice and Sea

Last week I had the dubious pleasure of sleeping in four different countries, on four consecutive nights, one of which wasn't even a blip on my itinerary. This wasn't really something on my "to do" list exactly, it just worked out that way in a sort of unprecedented clusterfuck of travel plans gone awry. Sometimes these things provide interesting diversions, when everything's just so out of your control you can sit back and attempt some level of enjoyment, knowing there's nothing else you can do.

The view from my hotel room. It was light like this till 1am.

The second, and most interesting, of those nights I slept in Iceland, a consequence of flight delays leaving me not a chance in hell of making my connecting flight and instead being bussed to a very nice little hotel in the town of Keflavic, where I had 24 hours to wander around aimlessly with no currency, no clue where I was going and a dwindling phone charge due to charger incompatibility. Despite all this is was fun and interesting.

Who expects to be in Iceland?  Not I, at least not for more than an hour while I drag my tired self to my next flight. If I'd known I might have been more prepared. Too bad I didn't have enough time to troll around Reykjavic or check out the famous Blue Lagoon hot springs.

Yeah there's no fake sleeping going on in here!

"Do you have any rather uninteresting photos you could show us, Veg?" I hear you not say? Why yes I do.  I also have some rather fun aerial shots of Greenland and a story about the day I ended up in Denver drinking a margarita at 10:30am, but that's for some other time.

Barren and volcanic

Icelandic coastline

Creepy...built into the hillside

A monument for sailors lost at sea? I couldn't understand the plaque.

I don't know either, but I kind of like them

Blue flower by the monument

Starting to look a little stormy... Iceland's weather looks just like Scotland

Hey Extroverts...Don't

You know there's a difference between being introverted and being anti-social.  That's what I tell myself.  I don't consider myself anti-social - I get on with people, I have friends, I'm fine at conversations and small talk if the need arises, I like hanging out with small groups of friends at a bar or wherever.  I just prefer not to go out in large groups, partying or clubbing or doing fantastically extroverted loud things with lots of people or groups because I don't have any particular love for it and I don't see the need.

Therefore, I don't see why people are all up in your grill in public places because they think that it's socially okay to quiz you like a Jeopardy contestant.  Take the laundry room.  I'm totally fine with saying "good evening" or polite claptrap about the weather, or the holidays - just enough for the wait not to be cloaked in a silent stew of awkwardness.  But I don't know what gets into some people who seem to think that occupying the same space at the same time stipulates they can get all kinds of familiar.  What's your name? Where are you from?  What apartment do you live in? Have you lived here long? What do you do?

DIE IN A FIRE, that's what I do.  I just met you, dude, while I'm washing my smalls, you can't ask me anything personal.

I'm not sure how to deal with such over abundant questions I don't feel like answering from someone I don't even know.  I thought maybe I'd try one of these:

1) Pretend to be Bulgarian or something and speak some made up language.
2) Stare at him without blinking, like a serial killer, not saying a word.
3) Shout, "MY NAME IS VEG WHO ARE YOU, THANKS FOR ASKING" at the top of my lungs so that he gets confused and runs away in horror.
4) Say, "Do you want to put my underwear on your head?"

What is the proper etiquette for such things?  I'm not sure I'm qualified.

Cyber Funday!

Monday, December 2nd, 2013

Well hello, Cyber Monday!  Nice to see you.  And it's nice you are doing your sweet thing on a Monday because Mondays are just pointless otherwise aren't they?  Dragging you out of a nice, warm bed way too early to scrape cold shit off your car before you can go anywhere?  Horrible.  Anyway, here's hoping everyone in the entire world listens to Scope and comes out to play.

Anyway, I hope the blogosphere responds because man, I miss all my old buddies, who're no longer out there and the rest of us who are when time permits, which isn't as often anymore.  I've had so many laughs out of this place it's been unreal.  Nowadays everyone's all "Tweet me this" and "Facebook me that!" and it's sad because is that all our attention spans are now?  Little bite sized chunks of information.

Plus dudes?  "Facebook" is not and should never be, a verb.  Or indeed a thing.

I like Instagram though, which FB owns, but shhhhh don't tell anyone.

How are you all this fine Monday? For me, this weekend was spent being too ill to celebrate my stupid birthday, then trying to fit insanely large Ikea furniture in a less insanely large car, putting together said furniture (always such a fun, fun occupation, though immensely improved with the addition of an alcoholic beverage) and trying to jettison this damn flu thing into orbit or anywhere that isn't in me.  I've half succeeded, but the death rattle cough remains.  My neighbours LOVE me.  Soon as I'm horizontal, [insert hideous rasping cough straight from some hell demon, here].

Next week I start a new painting for my living room because I'm sick to death of staring at a blank wall that needs a giant-ass Airstream on it so that means a trip to the art store (yay!) so I can lovingly finger canvases and special paper and tweak the ends of brushes, all without fear of arrest.

So as I sit here, in my pleasant smelling John Dies at the End t-shirt and hair that hasn't seen a brush since Saturday, I bid you a gigantic, resounding HI! And I hope to see some of you either here or at your place or around because, wouldn't that be fantastic?  I miss you guys!

Oh Here Comes The Whine

Wednesday, November 27th 2013 - I am sick, goddamnit!

Seriously guys.  I haven't been sick in a good couple of years now and suddenly I'm hit with this pestilence that would fell a buffalo, clear out of the blue. I hate being sick. I'm like a man when I'm sick.  You all know what that means. I have no energy, I can't sleep worth a damn because I lie down and cough up a lung and I think I may be in some parallel universe.  On the positive, I have been watching a shit ton of old X-Files episodes on Netflix instead of sleeping so that's been fun.

It started with a dry, rough throat, which progressed to a sore, dry throat and then moved south in victory, right into my chest, where it now lives in an ocean of phlegm and bronchal patheticness.  Every body retching cough makes me wince and I feel like Mike Tyson did some practice on my midsection.  I walk like I'm ninety and I work up to every cough like it's a goddamn contraction.  When did coughing get so painful?

Anyway, I've barely eaten anything in about five days but managed to drink enough orange juice during that time to fill the Pacific.  Funny thing is I never drink fruit juice unless I'm sick then I crave it like babies' blood.  I'm kidding about the blood.  I just want orange juice, it's addictive like meth. I had some Campbell's tomato soup too.  I mean who can survive illness without THAT?  An alien, that's who.

So I need entertaining/sympathy/jokes/insults etc., etc. Please see to it.

I'm off now to see what you guys are up to and it better be good.

I Wish I Was Better At Titles

Thursday, November 21st 2013 - Eff Me, It's Cold

I don't know why winter takes me by surprise, seeing as how it happens every year without fail and it usually announces itself by turning leaves orange and yanking them off the trees a few weeks earlier, yet somehow, I always wind up hosting an expression of utter confusion as if something untoward has occurred without asking my permission.

I saw "Gravity" for the second time last night (because who can see that movie once and not sit slack jawed with awe at the effects and not want to see it again?) and shot out of the warm bosom of the movie theatre and right into the cold, heartless crossfire of the first mini-blizzard of winter and a car that could make ice faster than any freezer.  The flurries of light snow swirled right down my parka hood and into my cold, dark SOUL.  I uttered some bad, bad words.

In other things that slightly surprised me this week, I went to A&W before the movie last night, for some fast food, which I hardly ever do because not being a meat eater the choices are slim in such places and if they do have a veggie burger of some sort it's usually pretty much like a piece of cardboard covered in a tomato and angst. However, A&W have a pretty kick ass veggie burger I discovered and it has onion rings and sliced dill pickle and tomato and well....yeah!!! I approved. Tasty! How did I not know of this?  I thought I knew everything.

How's everyone today?  Stoked for the weekend?  I hope so.

Behold the New Overlords

Today, around 7:30 a.m., as I was walking in the half-light, around our site on my way to my office, a rat the approximate size of a German Shepherd, shot out from behind some pallets, scurried over my foot in its haste to scare me to death, and made me emit a sound like a 1940s' horror movie victim as she opens her velvet drapes to find a glowering Dracula hovering there in mid-air, like a vampiric, satanic fart.  I honestly don't know who got the bigger fright, but I'd wager it was me.

I don't know what's going on in our place, lately. The creatures that frequent it are like colossal mutants, full of food plant leftovers and homicidal intent.

One early morning, I was walking down the thin, paved path, at the back of the factory, when I found my way blocked by the Orson Welles of birds - a giant, rotund thing with a scowl like Kiefer Sutherland when he finds out his car's broken down in a dry town.  The avian Tony Soprano was blocking the entire path (and possibly the sun!) with its fearsome aura of malice.  He was clearly sizing me up before turning into one of those crows in Hitchcock's "The Birds" and mowing me down in a bloody pool on the paving.

Now technically it was a seagull, but like no seagull you've ever seen this side of Hades.  Eyes like tiny, black currants, if currants can be straight from the depths of Hell. It had a body the size of a milk cow, a hooked beak you could moor a boat on. He was a gargantuan, murderous beast of a thing. And he would NOT BUDGE.  Most seagulls see a human approach and they sigh and reluctantly fly off while maybe weighing up the options of spitefully shitting on your head.  Not this guy. He sat perfectly still, like he was stuffed, and he stared me out with his beady, Danny de Vito, death eyes.  I swear he was smirking.  When I got almost all the way up to him he came right out and said, "I hope you don't think I'm going anywhere, human. And you even THINK about walking around me and I will eat your eyeballs."

Oddly enough he sounded a lot like Nathan Lane, which I DID NOT EXPECT.

Man, that bird owned that path. Damn thing sat there and had a Mexican stand off with me for about five minutes before I distracted him with half of my lunch, and ran like the wind towards my office door.

Things are afoot in creatureland, that's all I'm saying.