You know, if you were to scan the covers of women’s magazines, you’d think the only things we care about are our weight, celebrities, celebrities’ weight and decorating. And if you were to scan my inbox, you’d think the only thing men care about is the size of their penis.
Say you were in the market for a penis enlargement product (and I’m not saying you are) (and even if you are, that’s okay too), which of these subject lines would most appeal to you?
This is just a small sampling from my inbox over the last few days. (Click to enlarge – no pun intended.)
Posted by Zoom! on October 29, 2007, at 10:05 pm |
Okay this is one of those rare things that’s too personal to blog about but too special not to blog about. So I’m going to skip all the personal details and just tell you the bottom line: Me and my Dad are going to run the 10k together on National Capital Race Weekend at the end of May! And I’m really really really happy about it.
Posted by Zoom! on October 29, 2007, at 12:45 pm |
If you haven’t been reading the comments in the Fall and Rise of the Swap Box post, you’ve missed some big news. With Gilles’ help in the googling department, the Swap Box artist was identified (his name is Elmaks), and he turned out to also be our beloved Mirror Art artist. He even visited and left comments and gave a clue about the location of his latest Swap Box installation!
So yesterday afternoon I headed out to find the latest Swap Box, and it was exactly where I thought it would be: right outside Sugar Mountain on Elgin Street. It’s very cool. It’s called the Nostalgia Swap Box, and it’s metal. Inside there were some buttons, a bracelet, a Halloween thingy. I added some Popeye Candy Cigarettes from Sugar Mountain (only they’re not called cigarettes anymore; Popyeye succumbed to the anti-smoking lobby, and now they’re called Candy Sticks. Whatever.) I took a button because that’s what fell out when I opened the door. The button said “Vote October 10th.”
Then I went to the Swap Box on Rochester Street. Michelle (Green Colander) told me about this one in the comments the other day. In an odd twist of coincidence, this swap box appeared at 29 Rochester several weeks before I started blogging about swap boxes. 29 Rochester was my last home – I moved out in October 2006. See the house there, and the swap box on the telephone pole in the front yard? That was my home – I lived on the second floor. That was my balcony. I loved that apartment. And Elmaks just happened to put a swap box on the telephone post in the front yard!* Serendipity, I tell you.
This Swap Box, as you can see, differs very much in size and style from the others. And its inside and outside differ very much in style from each other.
It was empty. I put in the button from the Nostalgia Swap Box as well as a roll of Love Hearts candy, which I had bought at Sugar Mountain especially for this purpose, not even knowing there were sweethearts in the Swap Box.
I love the swap boxes. The one that I rescued from the Ritz will be moving to Wolfville, Nova Scotia in a few weeks. My nephew, Tyren, will create a blog for it, and will photograph its contents every week.
*UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE
As I was posting this, Megabytes was commenting on the Fall and Rise thread about the 29 Rochester Swap Box. Apparently she and her daughter made this one! And she says there are others in the old neighbourhood too.
I had one thing that I wanted to ask my doctor about, and that was my failing memory. I used to have an excellent memory. I didn’t have to write anything down. I had hundreds of phone numbers stored in my brain. I still remember irrelevant details from back when my memory was phenomenal, like my foster father’s license plate in the 1970s: ERB 185. But lately I have trouble committing new information to memory.
All week I kept reminding myself, “Don’t forget to ask the doctor about memory.”
And I was very pleased with myself for remembering to do that.
“Can you give me an example?” she asked.
I racked my brain, trying to think of an example. Then I remembered trying to dial a phone number from work last Friday. I rarely make phone calls because I dislike talking on the phone. But sometimes it’s just the most effective tool for the job, and this was one of those times.
This involved dialing 9 to get out, then 613 for the local area code, then the 7-digit number. I had to start over at least a dozen times because I kept screwing it up. I’d forget to dial 9, or I’d forget to dial the area code, or I’d dial my own first 3 digits instead of the correct ones, or some combination of those mistakes. I could not believe I kept getting it wrong, over and over and over again. And I was doing my very best to do it right. Eventually I got it, but by then I felt like the village idiot.
My doctor did not say something reassuring like “Oh, that happens to me all the time.”
Instead, she asked if there was any history of Alzheimer’s among my parents or grandparents.
“No.” I said.
“Good,” she said. And then she went on to say that it was unlikely it was Alzheimer’s because of my age and family history.
I was somewhat relieved.
After work I decided to go buy new shoes because I’ve been wearing sneakers with holes in the toes since sandal season ended, and maybe it’s time I had a real pair of shoes. So I went to my favourite shoe store, which is Ecco. They’re kind of expensive, but I walk a lot and they do make high quality, comfortable, long lasting shoes. I figure a pair of Eccos will last four times as long as a cheaper pair of shoes, so it makes sense to pay twice as much. Besides, I wear a pair of shoes every day till they fall apart. One pair at a time, that’s me.
So anyway. I go to Ecco, and I look at the shoes. They were out of stock in my size in the one pair I loved, which was this springy-soled red leather lace-up walking shoe. But while I’m looking, I see some nice walking boots, and I start thinking about how practical they would be. They’re Gortex, so I could wear them no matter what the weather, unlike the red leather shoes. They’re good to -20, and maybe more with a heavier wool sock. They’d be great for hiking too. They’re not cheap, but I bought them knowing I wouldn’t have to buy another pair of boots for years because these ones are damned near perfect.
Which is precisely why I bought an almost-identical pair of boots from the exact same store last year around this time. Unfortunately I didn’t remember doing that until last night – hours after buying them again.
Last night I lay awake in bed thinking about the doctor’s appointment and the boots and my failing memory and I suddenly remembered that one of my grandfathers did die of Alzheimers. And I got all freaked out all over again, because how could I have forgotten something so critical? The doctor even asked me that, and I said no. So maybe I do have Alzheimers after all.
Today I decided to make baked beans. This involved a trip to the grocery store, which is about a 25-minute walk from home. I walked almost all the way there before remembering I’d forgotten to bring money or a credit card. So I walked all the way back home to get money. By the time I got home I was a bit hungry, so I threw some leftover pizza in the microwave. While it was heating, I moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer and took my vitamins and a tablespoon of flax oil to improve my memory. Then I wolfed down my pizza and headed back to the grocery store. Without my money. Again.
Thank you to Andrea over at No More Decorators for the meme tag, and I apologize for the long delay in getting to it.
Seven Random Facts About Me.
1. My elbows are defective so I can’t completely straighten my arms. And I have an odd bony bump on the top of each foot. My doctor says these are just some of the things that make me me.
2. I once started a magazine just so I could interview Graham Nash (of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young) for the inaugural issue.
3. I used to be bilingual – English and German – but it wore off when I was about four.
4. I met Henry Morgantaler, the famous abortion provider, at his trial when I was about 13. I shook his hand on the steps of a Montreal courthouse. I shook Paul Anka’s hand too, a couple of years later at the Ottawa Ex. Paul Anka’s big hit was “You’re having my baby. What a lovely way of saying what you’re thinking of me.”
5. I’m not allergic to anything, but I throw up if peanut butter gets in my mouth.
6. I am always early or exactly on time. I cannot bear to be late. Being late causes me to break out in hives.
7. I got fired once for being a woman. I urged the boss to think up a better reason for firing me, but he insisted it was because it was a man’s job, so I took his sorry sexist ass to the Human Rights Commission and won.
Okay, now the fun part, where I get to subject other people to doing the Meme! I’m going to name a couple of people who don’t have blogs, as well as some who do. If I name you and you are currently blogless, please either start a blog or do your Meme responses in the comments. And don’t forget, you each have to tag seven more people.
The other day, when the Somerset House (aka The Ritz Hotel, back in the day) suffered an internal collapse, I immediately checked to make sure the Swap Box – mounted on an outside wall – was intact. It was.
On Monday, however, the Swap Box was lying on the sidewalk. Somebody had wrenched it from the wall, maybe with a crowbar. I stared helplessly from across the street at the poor Swap Box.
I wanted to rescue it, but it was WAY inside the police barricades. I would have had to slip under the barricades outside the grocery store, run across Bank Street (which was closed to traffic and pedestrians in case the Ritz finishes falling down) grab the box and run back. That wouldn’t have been so hard, except there were two squad cars guarding the Swap Box and making sure nobody entered the barricaded area. The cops were already eyeing me suspiciously as I photographed the Swap Box from across the street. Or at least I felt they were.
I kept an eye on it for a couple of days, and tried to come up with a plan. Today I got my chance. At 8:00 a.m. I stepped out of the Second Cup at Bank and Somerset with my usual apple-cranberry muffin, and checked to see if the Swap Box was still lying on the sidewalk. It was. I checked to see if the cops were still guarding it. They weren’t! The foreman with the white hard hat was there, but he was on the Somerset Street side. My timing was perfect – I think the cops were changing shifts and there was a tiny window of opportunity for me to rescue the Swap Box.
I ducked under the barricade, ran across Bank Street, scooped up the Swap Box and its strewn-about contents, scooted back across Bank Street and slipped back under the barricade. People looked at me funny, but nobody tried to stop me. Then I finished walking to work, Swap Box tucked safely under my arm. (I have to tell you, the Swap Box is MUCH heavier than it looks.)
At work I inspected it and threw out some of its soggier contents (two packets of sugar, a piece of gum, and a white spongy thing). I saw that part of the wood and two screws had been left behind on the wall when it was wrenched off. But mostly it’s still in good working order.
The question of course is What Do I Do With It Now? I put it on the kitchen table at work, but I don’t think my colleagues liked it. Someone moved it over to the other table against the wall. I guess they thought it was a bit too icky to be on the kitchen table. Nobody put anything in it except me – a vial of vampire blood. Even that didn’t tempt them.
Here it is on my filing cabinet, along with my Magic 8-Ball, the Dave X change box, and various other things. I don’t think it wants to be an Office Swap Box. I think it yearns to be outside. (Suggestions for its relocation are welcome.)
It turns out I rescued it in the nick of time. Eight hours later I saw that a bigger and better barricade – a fortress, really – had been erected around the Ritz. It completely encases the Swap Box’s territory. If I hadn’t managed to rescue it this morning, it would have been entombed forever with the Ritz. (And sadly it’s looking more and more likely that the Ritz will be demolished instead of restored.)
But you know what? That’s not even the BIG Swap Box news! Two readers of this blog emailed me and sent me pictures of OTHER Swap Boxes around town. There are at least three. (And maybe even seven or more, because Robin photographed one that was labeled Swap Box #7). He saw it on a downtown street in June of last year, but he can’t remember which street. He does remember that the Swap Box was empty.
Gilles, on the other hand, provided a precise location for his Swap Box, which was 5 metres west of Bridgehead on Wellington, in the Bagel District. He even included a link to a Google Map. Coincidentally, there was a Miss Vicky button in Gilles’ Swap Box.
Gilles, being retired and free as an eagle, even found time to do some Swap Box research. It seems the humble Swap Box is part of a much larger global Swap Box Project, which has its origins right here in Ottawa!
Posted by Zoom! on October 23, 2007, at 10:26 pm |
No time to blog tonight, just time to touch on a whole whack of things that are coming up on the blogging agenda.
I’ve been up to my elbows in damage control because Coyote and Em managed to piss off the mommy bloggers in the baby buggy post. Aggie, Julia and J didn’t help matters much, and Kerry’s down there fanning the flames at this very moment.
What else?
I was tagged for that 7-things Meme by Andrea. She tagged me a week ago, and somehow I didn’t notice, even though I read the post. Duh. Meanwhile, I was tiptoeing around the ESI blog, all inconspicuous-like while they were asking for nominations for who they would tag for that very same meme. I didn’t dare nominate anyone in case it was a trick. Ha! Good trick. (I will be 7-thinging in the very near future.)
Last but not least: a devastating fate has befallen the Swap Box. I will post details and photographs soon. However, the Swap Box news is not all bad. Stay tuned for the shocking details.
Oh, and where are my manners? I’d like to extend a a warm web welcome to all the surfers who are landing on this blog by googling “21-inch penis,” “22-inch penis,” “7-inch penis,” and “carving knife injury.” I hope you all find what you’re looking for.
I’ve gathered a little collection of oddities from around the web for you this week.
1) This first one is an optical illusion right-brain-left-brain test. Is the lovely lady spinning clockwise or counter-clockwise?
If you see her spinning clockwise, then your creative right brain is dominant. If you see her spinning counter-clockwise, then your logical left brain is dominating.
(Personally, I find she changes directions every few seconds.)
(If anybody knows the original source of the spinning lady optical illusion, please let me know.)
2) This next web oddity rates 100 on the wow scale, but it comes with a word of caution: if you’re offended by freaky nudity, you’d better not click. (If you do click, however, make sure you cycle through all six pictures.)
3) For those of you who chose to stay here instead of clicking over to that freaky nude thing, here’s a very sweet YouTube video of six-year-old Connie wowing Simon Cowell. I think she’ll wow you too. You might even cry.
B) And finally, a special bonus link to an excellent post by Dr. Dawg, entitled Life in Ottawa.
Posted by Zoom! on October 20, 2007, at 10:32 am |
As you’ve probably already heard, the building upon which the Swap Box is mounted suffered a partial collapse yesterday!
Fortunately it was an interior collapse, and the Swap Box is okay. It’s cordoned off so nobody can get at it anymore, but it’s still there and it’s still okay.
The last thing I put in it was cosmetic fingernails that looked like spiderwebs, and that was just an hour or two before the building collapsed. They’re probably still in there, if anybody wants to sneak under the police tape and grab ’em.
I passed through Bank and Somerset again about an hour after the collapse, and I have to say I’ve never seen so many fire trucks in one place in my life. There were probably thirty of them, stretching down Somerset Street, as well as several on Bank Street. Plus there were cop cars and ambulances and media vans and spectators with umbrellas and a down-and-out guy in army fatigues pretending to be a cop and not letting people get anywhere near the Swap Box. There was everything except a hotdog stand!
WHEN: Tonight (Friday October 19, 2007) at 7:30
WHERE: Wurm Gallery (Invisible Cinema), 319 Lisgar at Bank
WHO/WHAT: Stefan Thompson
WHY: The universe suggested I help publicize this.
I took a card out of the Swap Box today because I loved the pencil-drawn picture on it. In its place I left some coloured paper clips and a binder clip. (My avocado pits were gone, by the way!)
Later I saw on the back of the card some pencil advertising of the above show at the Wurm Gallery. I felt a bit bad for taking the ad when I can’t even go to the show.
And THEN I went to the library and you know that big bulletin board advertising the community events?
I didn’t even look at it, and this jumped out at me:
So then I realized the universe was asking me to help spread the word about Stefan Thompson’s show tonight. I have no idea who he is, beyond what I just learned on his website, but I do like his art.
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