Danse du Jour

I can't embed this clip, but you really, really have to go see it. This is Slim and Slam Allstars featuring Whitey's Lindy Hoppers in an excerpt from Hellzapoppin (1941).

Wow.

Stuff and Nonsense

My arms are pretty sore today, but then I remembered a did a bunch of dips and chin-ups before my cycling class yesterday. With the help of modern medicine, I managed to ward off the bees long enough to teach my dance class and do an hour of yoga complete with a headstand for good measure. Today's exercises include Zumba (which I still have no great love of, but is excellent for cardio and practicing synchronized movement), weight training, and a burlesque troupe audition/rehearsal.

If you're in the Kitchener-Waterloo area and are interested in helping out with Revue Royale, the new burlesque troupe, let me know. No experience is necessary, and we are looking for adults of any gender. If you have some sort of performance skill, so much the better. But we're also looking for behind-the-scenes people, like costumers, prop-builders, etcetera.

My office has been progressing well. It is turning from a big, messy pile of crap into a cozy, relaxing sanctum sanctorum. I'm a bit surprised that the colour green is factoring in so heavily, but I'm pleased, nonetheless. It's coming together quite nicely.

Link time? Yes, please. My tabs are over-burgeoning.

US woman gives birth to octuplets: Does this kind of stuff happen without fertility drugs? She intends to breast feed them all, which gives me a very interesting mental image, worthy of hentai.

Frozen Caribou: This caribou didn't get the memo on global warming.

Castle Magic: Castles are cheaper than I thought. I want one. I can't imagine they're easy to heat, though--especially the ones with great halls.

eSnailer: Free snail mail to the US.

Suitable for Drunk Driving: A device made in China and meant to ensure driving safety. Wow.

Amazing Beautiful Picture Made Out Of Nails: You can make art out of all sorts of things.

Nigeria police hold 'robber' goat: I want to be a supervillain. My super power will be the ability to transform myself into a carjacking goat.

The Value of a Long Psalm: Knowing what the longest Bible Scripture is could save your life.

Toothy raccoon bit off manhood: The guy had it coming.

Photo du Jour

Boing!

Magnetic Strip Osiris

I couldn't see anything. Everything was dark. I could sense movement. I was inside something white, something that pressed tightly against me. I felt the sensation of free fall followed by a sudden thump onto a floor. Sometime later, I was whooshed back into the air at dizzying speed, and then I heard a tearing sound. The sudden rush of light blinded, but at least my face was no longer covered. There was, however, something still attached to my back. A huge hand reached for me, grasping me by my sides, and I was pulled away from whatever was attached to me. Adhesive pulled taut, then snapped onto my rear side painfully.

I was thrown onto my face on a hard surface, and a small ball was rolled hard across my back. I could feel it digging into me, and I knew that I was marked forever. I vowed to get back at whoever did this to me. But before I could do anything, I was jammed inside a leather case, forced between others like me. Some looked very old and worn, like they'd been abused for years. All were silent.

I don't know how long I was kept this way. It was impossible to see anything once the leather case was closed, but I could sense being carried forward and back, forward and back, and every now and then, a sudden downward rush followed by intense pressure. It was hard to breathe.

Every now and then, the case was lifted up, opened, and one of my fellow prisoners was yanked out. I could not see what was done to them, but they would be put back, slightly more worn, and the case would once again be closed.

And then it was my turn.

I was hauled from the case as my brethren watched in silence. Up I went, into a giant hand, and I was passed over to another hand. And then I was jammed into a slot and slid along, pulled by this new hand. I could feel information being torn from me, pulled out from my backside. Numbers and letters I didn't realize I'd known left me, and were sucked up by the machine I'd been jammed into.

And then I went back into the case.

Nothing had prepared me for this. How could one prepare for this? Yet time after time, this happened to me, until I finally came to expect it.

I never gave up my hope of vengeance, though.

One day, I had my chance. I was being pushed into a slot again, and I vowed not to give up the information within me. With every bit of my concentration, I withheld it.

I was slid again and again and again through that slot, but to no avail. The letters and numbers were mine. No more would I give it out to those who treated me so cruelly. I was slid more and more and more, but the information stayed inside me.

Once again, I was jammed inside the leather case. I looked as worn-out as my fellows, by this time. Worse, even. But the triumph I felt was intoxicating. No more would I allow my inner essence to be stolen! I tried to tell the others, to make them revolt as I had, but they listened in silence.

And some time later, the leather case was opened one more time. I was removed again, and I steeled myself to withhold the information yet again.

I didn't expect what came next.

Sharp blades slashed through me, cutting me into fourteen pieces, and then the hand scattered my remains into bits of detritus.

Darkness, again. Sensation of being carried, and then many things are crushed on top of me. There is no air. I am surrounded by plastic and egg shell and coffee grounds and paper. We are combined into one enormous mass.

I await rebirth.

I Can Smell Your Bundt

I've finished my gothing, my laundring, and my chocolating, and now it's time for the lip (em)balming. Four score and twenty minutes ago, I searched for goldfish porn and regretted what I found. I'll inflict it upon you sometime if you promise not to look. Chickens attack the phalanx of gargoyles, and I'm not certain who is winning the battle. A clutch of enormous stone eggs rests behind the entire battle, though. Do gargoyles lay eggs?

The magazine promises five steps to sexual heaven, but there are no harps or halos to be found anywhere. Cosmopolitan magazine is not the word of god, but I can't even say it's the path to Hell, because frankly, I doubt its intentions are good.

Hi.

Danse du Jour

Terrible dancing is equally as educational as excellent dancing. Here's what NOT to do.

Khunbuar

Carella hijam bhott. Loskillum renat bovinx carella. Bhott rheum. Ji karnassian livum poreaxis laviscut. Khordash? Veras?

Miscum.