Skip to main content

*Putt* *putt* *putt*

Life it putt-ing along. Not much new to share ... and doubts anyone is here to see what I do share so no hurry to update.

I got my taxes off 18 hours early. Go me. That just does not happen often. And I get a small amount back. Always pleasant.

Now to put the finishing touches on my film school application. Harder than it looks. Have I mentioned I have to provide a C.V., 2 letters of reference, an original feature script, a written script for a television series currently on the air (luckily Corner Gas is on for one more season or I'd be hooped!), a script idea for a series currently on the air, two ideas for new series I want to put on the air, a list of my all-time 10 favourite television series, and a letter explaining why I want to attend this school and what I plan to do with the knowledge if I get in. In triplicate.

Then I wake up this morning to discover that Syncrude is adding to their bulk collection of oiled waterfowl carcasses thanks to their lax prevention techniques. "Bad weather" kept them from deploying their noise-makers to deter birds from landing in their tailings pond, so now hundreds are feared dead or dying from the icy toxic oil ponds. I hope the men and women who didn't want to put on their winter woolies to set up life-saving deterents were able to keep warm and cozy throughout all this. We should probably create some kind of foundation to provide them with hot chocolate and wool socks so they don't get the sniffles while doing their job.

Or we could just fire up a few oil-soaked ducks now. I'm sure those'll burn for hours to help keep those poor oilsands workers warm.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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?

Fates' Catnip Toy

Yesterday was supposed to be gorgeous out, so I decided somewhat late in the morning that I would go see a movie that just opened that day. I think the Fates were bored yesterday and plopped that thought into my head just for fun. I stand in my front room debating whether or not I have time to make it to the theatre for the first showing. Yes. No. Maybe. Okay, just go! I decide. A quick toothbrushing session, clothes upon my back and I rush out to the bus stop. Ooh, but I don't have any money in my wallet. I need to stop by an ATM. If I catch the bus here, I can't get money until I get to the theatre, assuming there is a bank or ATM near the theatre, because while there is a bank near the transit station I'd have to pay another fare if I leave the station to go to the bank. I do not know. Maybe I should walk to the bank right now. But would that mean I'll miss the streetcar I ultimately need to catch in order to make the movie on time? Ach, I need money. So I start walk