No one reads my fucking blog.

Thanks a lot, friends.

A New World Order

Last night Beaner and I went to see a play and when we came out there were two flyers on our windshield campaigning for a "New World Order" -- a world with One Religion, One Government, One Language and I'm assuming One Crazy Ass Cult Leader who is going to make everyone drink Kool-Aid and die.

Who put these flyers on my car? I would really like to know because I'm kind of afraid of that person. Also, I feel violated. Don't touch my car with your cultyness.

And why would you put TWO flyers? One would think that with all this One-ness of the cult, One Flyer would be enough. Stupids.

Here's what I think: A world with only One of everything would be boring - I don't care what Bono and Lennon and Marley say about it. It would be really effing lame. Think about it... One Flavour of ice cream - so long Baskin Robbins and your 37 delicious flavours or however many there are. Or One Breed of dog - what would that breed be? One kind of juice... would it be apple? grape? orange? or something no one likes, like prune? That would suck balls. One language? Really? Which one? English, I'm assuming - since the New World Order flyer was printed in English. That's stupid. I happen to like all our languages - they're beautiful! Especially Italian and French... and German is hilarious - no matter what you say in German, it sounds angry.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Just - whoever it was - don't put flyers on my car. I hate that. ESPECIALLY messed up culty ones like that. It weirded me out WAY too much.

One weird Sunday night...

Monday posts seem so intense... and Friday posts just make no sense. (I rhymed!) See how my brain drains over the course of the week??? This place is KILLING ME! Perhaps softly, like the Fugees said, but still - killing me nonetheless. Nonetheless is an awesome-looking word.

So today's Tuesday - which means it can't be quite so intense as Monday's post.

Sunday evening, Beaner and I took Baby Dog for a walk after the rain finally stopped. It rained for 16 hours straight, you know. I am sure of it because I kept track. It started at 5:30pm at work Saturday night - and rained all the way through until 11:30am on Sunday. I woke up a gazillion times in the night (and by "gazillion" I mean at least three) and each time said out loud, "My word! It's still raining! It's been raining for 12 hours!" --- I said that every time. And when I woke up at 9:30 am and it was still raining, I sat up in bed and said, "REALLY?! It's been raining for 12 hours!" and Beaner said, "Fuck Nikki, you said that 4 hours ago and then 3 hours ago and then again 2 hours ago... your math is wrong." HA! That's why I love him. He's funny! As if my math being wrong is the most annoying part of that story... not me repeating myself every hour in the night. Repetition is fine, as long as your math is accurate. Oh, Beaner.

ANYWAY... I DIGRESS...
So we're walking Baby Dog and we decide to cut through the Harry Potter School grounds down the street... Once we entered the gates, we passed four bunnies right after each other - I think these are the ones that the underclass magicians pull from their hats. I was afraid that Baby Dog was going to bolt after them, because a few weeks ago, she killed a baby bunny. It was devastating. I'll get to that story another day; I don't want to relive it now, it's too sad.

So anyway, I gave Beaner the leash so he could hold her back and I yelled, "Hold her back! HOLD HER BACK!"... even though she was not trying to go. She's smarter than that, she knows she needs to behave herself on the Harry Potter School grounds and not cause a fuss like I was doing, because drawing attention to yourself means weird things will happen and you may be turned into a crustacean or a rodent or a pile of dust. Turns out, my yelling did attract the attention of some Magician Professor who was unpacking his Beamer to move back in for the school year... and he started to walk towards us! We got a little scared, so we said, "Hello." and put our heads down and just kept on walking. All was well on that front. Catastrophe avoided.

So then, we noticed there were a bunch of people and with them, a bunch of dogs off-leash in the middle of the field. We were wondering what was going on but didn't dare go over there because it always seems like the things going on at the Harry Potter School are always just slightly weird - in a fancy-ass, rich kind of way. I guess at that point, Baby Dog decided it was a great time to drop a deuce, and as I was picking it up (because Beaner refuses), two of the leashless dogs came running at us. I wasn't afraid, because they were small little ankle-biters and not scary at all - Baby Dog didn't even get excited about them, she was being a very very good girl. I wonder if she had a close call on the Harry Potter School grounds sometime?

Where was I going with this... oh, yes, so this woman chased after the dogs and got to us and this is what happened:

WOMAN: "Hi! Are you guys staying at Sarah's house?"
NIKKI: "Um... no..."
WOMAN: "Do you live on campus?"
BEANER: "Um... no... we live down the street."
WOMAN: "Oh. Well, bye!"
NIKKI & BEANER: "Bye..."
NIKKI: "That was weird."
BEANER: "And a bit presumptuos... Who is Sarah?"

My Beaner is so funny. He makes me laugh.
I'm not sure exactly where I was going with that story, but I'm done now. I gotta tell you though, the night just got weirder from there... I'm glad Sunday's done. The end.

Philosophical Thoughts for the Day

I'm not sure why, but last night I was lying in bed thinking to myself, "What is my earliest memory?" --- and you know, I couldn't figure it out! I kept thinking of things but realizing that I didn't actually remember that, I just know there's a photo of it, and the photo leads me to create a memory. That's not a true memory.

So I'm trying to figure out, at what age do we start to log things into our memory bank? I know it has to be immediate, because otherwise we would never learn anything - but maybe our memory banks are too full of useful knowledge in those early years to actually have room for memories of experiences?

I can remember snippets of my early childhood - things that I saw, or felt, or smelled, or tasted, or heard... but I can't remember anything really significant. I remember floating around on my Nana's pool in a plastic turtle, and I remember the seat of the turtle was frayed - but I don't know how old I was, or who I was with. It's strange though, the image of the frayed seat is so vivid in my memory... why? I also vividly remember the texture and colour of my sister's bedroom carpet, and the way my dog's fur felt on my face when I would rest my head on her and give her a hug. But those are just my senses, which obviously are (or were) very acute. I remember the smell of my Mum's roast beef dinners, and the smell of the linen closet because I always hid there when we played hide and seek. It smelled like clean laundry and plastic, because the package of toilet paper was kept there too. And I remember the light in the linen closet, it had a pull-cord. I guess I hung out in there a lot.

But why can't I remember anything actually happening? Anything involving other people? The earliest thing I can think of is my Dad carrying me into my bed, when he would work nights and I would sleep with my Mum... I would be so warm, and I knew Dad was so careful not to wake me so I would pretend to still be sleeping, and my bed would be so cold but somehow it was refreshing, and I would fall right back to sleep. I think that's the earliest I can think of, and I think I was probably 3 or 4 years old. I have lots of memories from when I was school-age... but that's probably my most vivid memory as a toddler.

What happened in those first 3-4 years? From pictures, I know a lot of things that happened, but why can't I remember? I wish I could.

Billy the Bird, Billy the Badass

Let's start Friday off right... with another funny bird! Funny birds make me so happy, and I can't really explain why. I guess I just find them hilariously humanlike. Here's my favourite for today:

What is going on with this little guy??? Where are his wings? They're there, so I don't think this is something to be sad about... they are just really small. But let me tell you what I saw when I first glanced at this gem - machine guns. I thought the bird was holding machine guns. Tell me you didn't think that too. The wings look like arms, and he's holding them at the perfect machine gun shooting angle. And look at the way he's standing - he's using his legs to brace himself for the kick back. And his eyes - tell me that's not a Rambo bandanna on his face... and such determination in his expression - he's on a mission. It's not rage. It's not even just anger. It's "I got shit to do so get outta my way or I'm gonna blow you to bits, punk."

This bird is awesome. I want to take him home with me so he can be my friend. I shall call him Billy, because he reminds me of Billy from Predator. I really liked Billy, too bad he had to die. He was super badass. HE knew all about taking one for the team. Billy wasn't a talker, he was a doer. He got shit done. He had your back and you fucking KNEW IT. That's why this little bird is called Billy. He deserves the name. He's got these little wings, just like Nemo - except he doesn't hang back and not fly into the open air because his wings are small... no, this guy doesn't have time for flying anyway. He's got shit to do, people to kill, buildings to blow up, and kittens to save - cause not only is he super badass, but he's got a big heart too - so he'll save those kittens, knowing full well that when they grow up they're just going to hunt him down and try to eat him. He doesn't care. He can deal with those punks later, cause right now he's too busy to think about that - HE'S GOT SHIT TO DO!

To Billy:

Tuesday Night Poll

Beaner took a poll on Tuesday night. He called a bunch of our friends to ask, "How many times do you change your underwear in a day?" Oddly enough, our friends responded quite well:

Kentucky Terminator: 1
Creeper McFly: 0 (as the name suggests...)
LeeLee: 1-2
The Accountant: 0 (the calculator goes commando)

DeBarbs: 1
My Jen: 1
DP: 2
Beaner: 1
Nikki: 3-4

Dean was trying to prove a point - that I change too often. He thinks 3-4 times is too many. But here's what I do: Wake up and put on clean underpants (1), go for a run and then shower and change into clean underpants (2), go to work all day then come home and change into comfy clothes and at the same time change my underpants (3) and then at bedtime, fresh underpants with my PJs (4) ... on running days, it's 4. On non-running days, it's 3. I think I'm reasonable, and they're all sub-par in the hygiene area... No article of clothing will rest on my behind for longer than 8 hours - that is non-negotiable! I can't even fathom the idea of wearing a pair of underpants all day at work, coming home and changing pants but not underpants, and then as if that wasn't bad enough... going to SLEEP in said underpants!

You KNOW I love you unconditionally, but that's just not right, people!!! You need to step up your underwear-changing-act. Just sayin.

B2: Judgement Blog (aka Nikki Learns to Drive Stick)

It's time to revive the blog, babies!

I was inspired by Nibbles, really... she's started this awesome dating chronicle. She's like the new Carrie Bradshaw... except she's not Carrie, she's Nibbles and she's not in NYC she's in TO and she doesn't spend a ridiculous amount of money on shoes, although she does love them - just not enough to go into debt. I digress. Nibbles' blog inspired me to revive TATMC, so here I am, reviving the hell out of it!

Last night, my Kentucky friend, The Terminator, took me out and taught me how to drive stick. HA! That always sounds so bad. Kentucky Terminator is a girl, ok? Doesn't matter, it still sounds dirty. Kentucky Terminator enlightened me in the art of manually manipulating a five speed transmission. There's no way to say it! When cars are involved, it just sounds dirrrrrty. Back to the matter at hand - I learned last night how to drive standard, and I ROCKED THE SHIT OUT OF IT!!! That's right, lil' ol' me, I owned it! I'm going to go out again. I'm so proud. Bad call wearing flip flops though, I won't do that again. And whoever that asshole was behind me at the stop sign who honked at me after I killed it three times trying to go - FUCK YOU, BUDDY!

I can't believe it's been almost a year and a half since my last blog, and I feel like I have nothing much to say. I think it's because I'm married now, and therefore I am old and boring. Or maybe it's because Nibbles is gone, and Megoo is gone, and Mr. In Charge is never here, and Wilbur/Wendel/Wallace/Whateverthehellhisnameis never eats with us anymore, because there is no us anymore... God, that's depressing.

I have Mr. Wendal in my head now. By Arrested Development. Remember those guys??? Awesome. "He gives me some knowledge, I buy him some shoes. Mr Wendallll yeahhhhh.... ohhhhhh Mr Wendallll...." *smile*

I'm going to have to check back in later when I'm feeling funny. I just spent the last 2 hours reading old postings and they are SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS ONE! I'm sorry. I guess I'm just ininspired.

OH AND PS: The Zombie Walk has found its way to my hometown. FML.