I've been tagged, apparently.

Have you seen the Robot Chicken episode where the psycho girl comes across Pegasus, and cuts off his wings with hedge clippers, then drugs him and drags him to a barn where she whips him until he will answer to the name Sunny Muffins? Then "Sunny Muffins" looks over to a gryphon in the corner who has been similarly mistreated - he asks the gryphon "Who are you?" and the gryphon drily answers "Honeyflake, apparently." I love that gryphon. And now throw in "apparently" where-ever it will fit.

On a second note while I am tangential: did you watch the Flames v. Oilers pregame talk on Rogers Sportsnet tonight? The production crew told the host (Gene Principe?) that Iginla was injured, and that although he skated in the pregame he was a late scratch on the game. So Principe intros the game with that information, saying that although today is April 1, it's no April Fools joke that Iginla isn't in the line up. Then the colour commentators start laughing and say "Well, Gene, you're almost right. It is a joke." Gene kept saying "No? Really? I quit. Really? No!" I was greatly amused.

And now the purpose of this post: It would appear having a blog opens one to being tagged. But I don't understand how and why, I was just told to post my 6 Word Philosophy and "tag" 6 other people. But the only person I know with a blog is the person who tagged me -- except for Kat the Blues Chick as I am fond of calling her, but her blog appears to be more for work than play so I am hesitant to tag her -- so I'll conform as I can. So, my 6 Word Philosopy:

" Karma wins, so live life accordingly."

And I tag OliverRain. Apparently.

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A Picture Puzzler

A friend sent me another picture from the wrap party. As I looked at it, and recalled the good times, I was struck by something really unusual. See if you can spot it: I'll give you all some time to guess...

And they called me mad when I bought the bunker in the woods!

I had heard that one way of thwarting telemarketers was to make them think the number they have dialed is in fact a fax machine. I've tried different tones on my cordless phone, all to no avail. Then I had an epiphany: When I turned sixteen, my sister bought me a new-fangled telephone. It had push buttons, but it was still just a rotary phone - when you pressed each button to dial, you still heard the rotary "tat-a-tat-tat-tat" with every number. I had held onto this phone ever since. It's cute. It works. There was no reason to get rid of it. I was willing to bet that, in this day and age of advanced technology rendering yesterday's device obsolete on a daily basis, a telemarketer - who is likely going to be decades younger than my phone - would be unable to even identify a rotary phone by sight much less by sound. And voila! Answering the phone with my rotary phone, and constantly pressing the buttons, the telemarketer kept repeating "Hello?

Batten down the hatches -- we're in it for the long haul!

Given that the weather reports for Edmonton this weekend are grim grim grim (lows of minus 33, highs of minus 25 -- with wind chills of around minus 35 to 40), I woke up early this morning to get all errands for the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop. I barely needed a coat this morning as I headed out to my car to embark on my mission. With each passing hour, the thermometer dipped a degree or twelve. By time I was done driving around (and paused to catch a movie at the neighbourhood googolplex), it was chill-lay outside. I am now snuggly boarded up in my apartment, with no plans to so much as peek my nose out my window until Tuesday (when the temps shall return to a balmy minus 15). Groceries? Check. Toiletries? Check. Magazines to curl up with? Check. Christmas Presents? Check. Lessee, I got my father what he's been asking for since I was old enough for him to give me his Christmas wish list: And I think my mother will enjoy her bungalow by the stream: For my sister and he

A Skewed View

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