Pocket.buddha vs The Cricket

Why is it that cool animals, like rhinos or armadillos, have a greater likelihood of becoming extinct than stupid annoying animals that nobody likes?

Like crickets. . . especially the one that has escaped from the Frog's tank and is singing to taunt me from an unknown location.

I have, in the last 3 hours of cricket hunting, named him Stan.

I am sure that Stan was highly enjoying the sight of me stalking around the living room wielding my Logic text book, hyper aware of every movement, looking for the tell-tale scurry of his little cricket feet, ready to strike.

Knuckle-toes sleeps like the dead, and is not only un-effected by Stan's fiendish plan to drive me to the brink of insanity, but is also unaffected to the crashing and swearing of my hunting expedition. For some reason this fact drives me ever closer to going completely nutters.

Having decided that the crafty little bastard had undoubtedly beat me in the hide-and-go-seek round of our game, I decided to move on to the out smarting round, as surely my place in the evolutionary scale of things would give me an edge.

By that, of coarse, I am referring to the fact that I have the interweb.

At first the information found on the all mighty world wide web was decidedly useless. After all, knowing that the chirping sound or "cricket song" is made by the male crickets: "rubbing their forewings against each other." does not exactly help me in figuring out how to make it stop. Nor does knowing that a trained ear could deduce the species, sex, and current action of the cricket by the rate, pitch, and key of the sound. In fact, the idea that some scientist or another intentionally subjected themselves to this torment under the illusion that this information would be useful only infuriated me further.

But finally, after reading through the data available for a half hour or so, I stumbled across the information that cold crickets. . . while not necessarily dead crickets . . . are quiet crickets.

"ha-ha!" I called to Stan, "If your species spent less time singing, and more time inventing stuff you too may have the appropriate amount of sweaters to deal with . . . THIS!" at which point I turned the heat all the way down.

apparently, crickets have some sort of insect equivalent of 'whistle while you work' and have developed some kind of cricket sweater, because now, not only am I still listening to Stan's forewings rubbing together, but now I am cold while I am doing it.

Not to mention exhausted.



It's fucking cold out there. . .

I say that like I wasn't expecting it. This is the Canadian prairies. . . it's always cold this time of year. . . but if you look really closely at the following picture, you will see that it is so cold my dread locks have frost on them. . .


Even though I have lived here my whole life, it still shocks the hell out of me when the temperatures drop this low.

or maybe that's just the physical reaction to the cold air hitting my lung tissue, or my snot freezing my nostrils closed.


Shit List

I was reading some older posts of Schmutzie's and ran into her list of 25 things that "shit her to tears". . . in the midst of reading the list (which I totally agree with the snot build up on children's winter coats thing by the way) I started to realize how sad it is for me that it would be much easier for me to compile a list of things that cheesed me than to write one about things that didn't. . .

I mean, why is it that I can't think of more than ten things that really delight me?

what is it in my brain that makes it easier for the universe to ruin my day than to make it?

With that thought, which has been gnawing at me for almost 24 hours now, and making it incredibly hard to concentrate on much of anything else, I have decided to force myself to think really hard and come up with 25 things that make me happy.

So here it is. . .

1) The kids, Giovanni and Celeste, who I did not carry in my womb but love as though I had.

2) Live music. Out doors, indoors, anywhere, any type.

3) The first sip of coffee in the morning, even if it's bad coffee the first sip is always satisfying.

4) The smell of freshly cut grass in the rain.

5) When you end up talking for hours into the morning after the bars have closed and you've partied yourself out but don't feel like going home, so you find a friend or two, some take out, and a park to sit in until you are ready.

6) Flirting. honest to got witty interesting flirting. not the cheesy 'I want to get in your pants' kind, but the subtle innuendo and word play kind.

7) Bare feet in the grass. You feel free and connected to the earth, but there is also the oddly exhilarating danger element of not knowing if there's a sneaky piece of glass hiding somewhere.

8) cashiers and receptionists who laugh at my stupid jokes. Especially when my friends wont, because when your friends start making fun of your horrible sense of humour you feel as though you have made an Ally of a stranger by making them laugh.

9) The somewhat hurtful, yet undeniably hilarious banter my brother and I get into when we're bored.

10) Lists . . . even if this one is already getting hard when I am not even half way through, lists are none-the-less incredibly satisfying.

11) Books. Having the time to read a book that wasn't assigned to me would be really nice, and when I get there I know it will feel great.

12)Art Galleries, I like art too, but it doesn't have a 100% chance of making you feel warm and fuzzy inside, in fact, I prefer art that doesn't, but I love art galleries, they are quiet and peaceful, and they give me that childish 'grown-up' feeling like when I was a kid and got to run to the store to by milk or something equally as lame.

13) Voting. It makes me feel a little more empowered and a little less guilty about not doing enough for the causes I am passionate about.

14) Crisp, clean, brand spanking new paper, the possibilities are endless.

15) A good pen, to go along with that brand new paper, one that glides smoothly and feels balanced and is weighty in your hand so it makes a good satisfying (but annoying to others) 'thunk' when you tap it against the page while thinking.

16) Individually wrapped pieces of cheese.

17) Making up random stories about the lives of strangers in restaurants, bus stations, bank lines and other such places.

18) Accessories. not entirely because they're shiny, or pretty, though they are, but I like the sound that bracelets make when they shift or hit the table when you put your beer down or go to write something. and the rhythm of dangly earrings when you walk at a brisk and steady pace.

19) listening to people talking and trying to pick up inflections and syntax that are unique, or give away where they've lived or been.

20) Hearing people who don't normally cuss say something vulgar and/or belligerent. Also equally as awesome when people who you think wouldn't or shouldn't cuss do it often, like a priest or elementary school teachers.

21) The fact that my fish is still around after a year of being in my care, in spite of the fact that I intentionally picked the sickliest most retarded looking fish I could find and gave it the unfortunate name of Sushi.

22) A really well made sandwich, with the perfect ratio of sauce to veggies, when the veggies are all crisp and fresh, and the cheese and bread are toasted just the right amount.

23) Cooking new and/or experimental recipes for family and friends.

24) The way a canned carbonated beverage sounds when you open it; with the pop and the hiss and the sizzle and the what not, it sounds refreshing, even though I am not usually partial to sugary pop, or canned beer.

25) the fact that I actually compiled a list of that many things that I like is kind of impressive to me, and I am feeling pretty good about it!

It only took me . . . 2 hours . . . but at least now I have proved to myself, if no one else, that I am not a negative Nelly all of the time.

I have also, however, proved that an entry about the things I like is just as boring to read as an entry of ranting about the stuff I don't . . . so I think I'll stick to what I am good at.


Note to self. . .

The documentary channel is highly addictive. . .

The channel's ability to be incredibly interesting and depressing at the same time is kind of awkward at first but soon becomes oddly comforting.

Seriously, if your ever feeling just a little to good about yourself and the world you live in, and are consequently freaking out your friends by saying things like 'Okey dokey' with a smile and meaning it, flip on over to the documentary channel (which, on the guide, shows up conveniently as DOU CH for some reason) and not only will it inject enough depressing hopelessness into your day to get you back into the comfort zone, but you just may learn something in the mean time.


Happy Frickin' New Year

It's official . . . No matter how harmless my computer desk looks, dismantling and moving it is, and always will be, a two person job.

I am hoping that my random burst of midnight energy, and enthusiasm to fulfill my resolution to get and stay organized, did not permanently compromise the structural integrity of the stupid thing. . . nothing a little glue can't fix right????

I hope so, or this little incident will probably go down in history as another reason why I think new years resolutions are at the very least stupid, and at the very worst bad for one's physical and/or mental health.

Sure, I suppose that some would make the argument that setting goals is an important key for success. . . but most people who say that are just trying to sell books, and all the others are those stupid enough to actually buy them.

My problem with setting goals for the new year is that it will either:

A)turn out to be a huge waist of time as you'll forget about it by February

B)Turn out that the goal set was unrealistic and will turn into a sick, morbid obsession with something you cannot attain.

OR . . .

C)result in the stubbing of your toe and the breaking of your desk.

Either way it's lame and I am here by making my new resolution not to make any more resolutions.