Today in History.

Since I have been doing this for 5 years now, I figured I could pull off this bullshit on my off days. You know, when I have nothing else to say.

So lets take a trip down memory lane and see what I was up to 5 years ago today.

DECEMBER 29, 2002 - With a friend like you, you need nerves of steel.

Show us what you were doing 5 years ago today.

Give me a freakin' break.

Not a direct quote, I was listening but not really listening to a newscast.

"Exposing a child to smoke in a car for one hour is like giving them a pack of cigarettes?"

What retard said this? Apparently someone from the Lung Association.

I don't' know about you, but I can only smoke 4 cigarettes in an hour, but that would be one right after another.

So, supporters of this little bylaw are not so much concerned with the science of this whole thing, they just want a nice 'retarded' sound bite to feed the media.

Artists are just plain fucked up!

The Turner Prize. Some of them are of course interesting, but some are completely lazy and stupid

Nathan Coley - Threshold sculpture, a 2 by 4 accross the entrance. "...designed to make you aware you are entering..." Are you fucking kidding me? More like designed to trip you on the way in or out. That has to be a fire hazzard or something.

Mark Wallinger - "...he dressed in a bear suit and wandered aimlessly around an art gallery in Berlin..." I kid you not. A video of him doing this was his entry. And he actually won, not for the bear suit thing but for this. Which is sort of interesting

About freakin' time!

Pedestrian to be charged in accident

"A 65-year-old woman will be charged for not using a crosswalk after being hit by a car while crossing a Halifax street.

Halifax Regional Police say the incident occurred at about 9:30 p.m. Tuesday in the 3100 block of Joseph Howe Drive.

The woman, who was allegedly jaywalking when she was hit, was taken to hospital with non-life-threatening injuries, police said."

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me ...




Twelve drummers drumming.

There used to be 13 but one guy left to take up air guitar.

Hope your holiday was great no matter what you celebrate.

Merry Christmas.

Day Eleven...almost there.

Eleven Pipers Piping.



Ok, technically, a hookah. But if you ask me that's just a glorified bong anyway.

On the tenth day of Christmas...

Ten lords a-leaping.



Exhausted from the double duty (ie dancing lady gig) but always the consummate professional. The show must go on.

On the ninth day of Christmas...

Nine ladies dancing.



Like troupers, the eight out-of-work milk maids recruited one of the leaping lords and became dancing ladies....the lord is in drag, but he rather enjoys it.

On the eighth day of Christmas...

Times are tough and you can't find a milk maid to save your life. Most likely because of this.



These cows milk themselves. I kid you not. When they feel like they need to get milked, they just walk into the stall and the machine hooks up to them automatically. No human is involved.

The milkmaids are going to have to learn to type.

Day Seven.

And welcome to day seven. Over half way there.

Unfortunately, I had the swans since day one and, well, they drowned around day five.

Leave it to me to find the only swans that couldn't swim.

They are still good eatin'. Moist.

On the sixth day of Christmas...

Six geezer's sleighing.



And one chick.

FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!


Ok, so they are onion rings.

And who can eat just five?

On the fourth day of Christmas...



And welcome to day four.

On the third day of Christmas...

As it happens, I was only able to find one Frenchen. Not a real popular name.

However, it does say on his myspace that he is a parent. So, we will assume he was married at some point, so that makes at least 3.

Enjoy day three.

On the second day of Christmas...

Two turtles dove.

Ok, they aren't diving right this minute, but they were earlier.

I might have read that wrong.

Damned homonyms!

On the first day of Christmas...

Ok, I realize that the 12 days of Christmas are supposed to start on Christmas day and continue until the Feast of the Epiphany (I am not a heathen) but this is my blog and I am going to use it as a countdown. Excommunicate Sue me. Besides, once Christmas day arrives, no one wants to hear another word about it.

So, here we go.

On the first day of Christmas...

My true love gave to me...

A Partridge in a pear tree.

Ok, so he is not exactly in a pear tree.

But he is being treed by a bear.

Close enough. Carry on.

It's the little things that drive you batshit.

Ever hear something familiar and for the life of you just can't remember where you heard it? Ever since this US presidential election thing started invading every single news cast, I hear this guys name and it has been driving me crazy.

Mike Huckabee... hmmmm... Mike Huckabee? Where have I heard that name before?



Oh ya.....now I remember. Guess I didn't recognize him, since he lost all that weight.

You don't know how close you came.

I figured I would get a jump on my Christmas shopping, I used the lay away at Walmart. You know, a few weeks ago, when it was slow. Figured I would pop in and take it out, a quick trip.

Ya, right.

First I have to tell you that this is a pretty big Walmart. Secondly, you have to understand how much I hate going to Walmart. I start a slow burn as soon as I walk through the entrance. This day was no exception.


I make my way to the back of this huge store to find the layaway department. Ah, the line is only 3 people. Looks good so far. As I am standing there, feeling good, the lady in front of me looks at me as if to wipe the smile off my face. "That woman at the front has been there for twenty five minutes."

Didn't sound very promising. Turns out the 'lay away' department doesn't actually house the lay away merchandise. The checkout girl has to take your money and then schlep all the way to the garden center, where they keep all the stuff we lay away. Very efficient, eh? And, as luck would have it, there was only one girl working the lay away.

I figured mine might go a little faster since there were a couple of items I actually didn't need anymore. A coffee maker and a doll for my niece. I was informed that I couldn't just remove it from my lay away. I had to purchase the entire thing and then return the things I didn't want.

"Ok, fine. Not a problem." Or so I thought. Then she informs me that she cannot take returns, I would have to take them to the returns department. "And where might that be?" Clear across to the other side of the store. That's just great. So far this 'quick trip' was taking over an hour. Not much I can do, I want to get out of there before Christmas, so I make my way to the returns.

My heart sank as I saw a longer line than in layaway. My back is aching, my feet are aching, I am in a foul mood. I finally get my returns taken care of, thank fuck I can leave this hell hole.

As I make my way to the Exit/Entrance I see him, the greeter. Under my breath, "No fucking way!"

In my head I am rehearsing my flip out. I have had it up to my eyeballs with Walmart. Every fucking time I go in there, they frisk me at the door. Like a criminal. Why? I am not sure. After all they have those alarms that go off if you walk through them with something you didn't pay for. So why does this moron have to 'check' my bags?

"Can I check you receipt, Mamme?" My face is purple.

I prepare myself to say, "You need to get your fuckin manager, cuz if you look into that bag, I will take every fucking item back and never set foot in this fucking store again! I am sick and fuckin' tired of being treated like a criminal! I might just get myself a sandwich board and pace back and forth outside. If you have a problem with your cashiers, you think they aren't doing their job, then take it up with them. Unless I set off that alarm, you may not look in my fucking bag."

Just as I open my mouth I hear, in a sing-song little blond chick voice, "Oh hello, Evel." It's The Boy's, big brother's wife. Cute as a button, a social worker or therapist of some kind I think. In a split second I rethink the flip out in front of a person that might possibly have the authority to have me committed.

As the 'greeter' pretends he can read and looks over my receipt, the little blond chick is chirping away happily 'catching up' and all I can do is look at the greeter and think, "You don't know how close you came to witnessing my wrath."

Next time. I promise.

A product who's time has come. Sadly.

What I want to know is...what took them so long?



In an age of couch potatoes and video game addicts, you would have thought that they would have come up with this sooner. Maybe they already had but it's the first I have seen this.