I has it

No I did not get a flu shot. Yes I know I'm in the high-risk demographic because I'm an asthmatic. Paradoxically, that is exactly the reason that I can't get a flu shot. Why? BECAUSE IT ALWAYS GIVES ME THE FUCKING FLU.

This is by far the most PAINFUL flu, in terms of general body aches, I've ever had. It started out, weirdly enough, as a horrific painful burning backache and then suddenly jumped up into my lungs. Whenever I cough it feels like I'm being shot with a pin nailer in multiple places on my chest, back, face and legs, and let me hasten to assure you that is NO EXAGGERATION. I've been coughing so hard that I've thrown up. My lungs have filled with a substance that closely resembles semi-hardened carpenters glue, and there's been times that I thought my air passages were going to stick together and stay that way. Bad news, kids.

The good news is, if you can get ahold of some amoxycillin and a bottle of Cheretussin (codeine and guaifenesin syrup), your shit is set. Run a line of the antibiotic, knock back a half a shot of the syrup and stay hydrated. Stay warm. Watch some Food Network. It'll fix you right up.

Quaint vignettes from my charming rural idyll

THE CANADIAN APOCALYPSE CAPTURED IN DIGITAL IMAGES THAT YOU HAVE TO CLICK ON TO SEE PROPERLY


...holy SHITBALLS

This was taken as I stood directly before a manifestation of God's anger; an ANGRY SABLE CLOUDAL PROW OF ELECTRICAL DESTRUCTION WITH ALL THUNDER AND LIGHTENING GOING SMACK! BAM! FIRE! AND ALL HUGE SMOKING CRATERS OF VITRIFIED FORMER GRADE SCHOOL AND PARTS OF BURNED UP KIDS FLYING ALL OVER AND LEXUS DEALERSHIPS WITH DEATH, AND FLAMES. This is looking WWN toward where MJ used to live before God destroyed it. I mean, just look at this! God is just stomping the crap out of Canada.


...just freaking pitiful

Note how you can clearly see the slashing streaks of Gods' precipitational judgement hammering down upon the teeming, apostate humanity which climb around all over British Columbia, commiting sins, failing to wipe properly and generally messing it up. Meanwhile....



As you can see, God is sparing America. This is because our stuff is the coolest plus we have FREEDOM.

How much clearer does it have to be? God's even following the federally designated boundary between the USA (yay) and the godless cheeser hordes (boo)!
See? Right on the other side of that line of trees is the Canadian Border. And Canada is GONE. It is NO MORE. It's been WIPED OFF THE MAP, BABY. This is what happens when you piss off God. God will flat TAKE YOU OUT.



Here you can see the pulverized pieces of former Canada that have fallen all over my lawn, which I just overseeded a couple of months ago. This happened in three minutes. It's still happening in the picture, which is why its kind of blurry. See, though, this is pretty typical; Canada pisses off God and then I get stuck with a bunch of burnt-up Celine Dion chunks trashing up my yard.

Here we are looking SWW: Lynden is looking good.



...which it continued to do for another two minutes, when this happened:



OK now wait.

OK now wait. Where is Lynden?
OH CRAP LYNDEN IS GONE.
...well wait though. OK, I can live with that. Seriously, Lynden is kind of annoying. I'll just shop in Bellingham and




...now wait. What the fuck.

CANADA HAS REAPPEARED.

...well SHIT.

*scraps plans to rule a post-apocalyptic Canadian wasteland dressed in motocross gear and a loincloth riding around in a dunebuggy firing a machine gun and oppressing people*

_____________________________________________________________


Heres another couple of pictures I took just this morning:



Just another sunny gorgeous morning here in Sumas. Meanwhile, up on Dead Drug Dealer Mountain, a blanket of cloud hides the summit from view...



...then moves away, leaving behind a blanket of light snow five minutes later. This is how quickly things happen and how localized the weather phenomena are here. Lets all give my million dollar view a big hand, shall we? Isn't it excellent?

BICYCLISTS SUCK BALLS

Once I have this hammered out the way I like it I'm going to send it to all the bicycling sites I can find on the web and get heard, since Paul doesn't exactly stand at the center of the average bicyclists’ media universe. It's come to that.
_________________________________


Yeah, I've been here before. There, in fact vvv
http://1hplovecraft.blogspot.com/2008/03/die-two-wheeled-slime.html

I'm gonna go there again.

This past summer was a beautiful one here in the PNW. Absolutely gorgeous. Unbelievably gorgeous. We spent a lot of time out on the road. Travelling was a joy.

EXCEPT FOR THE GOD-DAMNED BICYCLISTS.

Are you a bicyclist? Then you do this or you have done this. Yes, you have. None of you are the magic exception to the following. You all need a goddamn wake-up call because you simply do not comprehend the concrete reality of the following FACTS:

1. On any road, but particularly on the freeway, in a showdown between your 7 lbs of recycled beer cans and my Buick, you are going to lose. Maybe I was driving poorly. Maybe an unforeseen obstacle up ahead caused a sudden, unavoidable hazard. Maybe a strong side wind blew you in front of me. THAT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE.

Are you in deer country? How about dog, cat, possum, raccoon, skunk and/or squirrel country? Is there blowing trash or dust? Silage? Something being harvested nearby? Is there bad weather? No shoulder? Are there signs that say 'Strong Side Winds Next 5 Miles'? Are you wearing any Kevlar at all? Leather, even? Are there drunk drivers on the road? How about semis? Loaded log trucks? Nigerian cabbies? Finally, are you riding one of those stupid recumbent things that nobody can see?

If the answer to any of these questions is 'yes' then YOUR PLACE IS ON THE SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD. STAY OUT OF THE TRAFFIC LANES.

2. In a showdown between your 7 lbs of recycled beer cans and my motorcycle, YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE. Yeah, that never occurred to you did it. It doesn't seem to occur to most of you.

2a. Don't think that simply because we are both on two wheels that you can split a lane with me. You can't and you shouldn't. And there is more at work here than greater mass and power vs. an exhausted vegetarian on a kids' toy. For example, if you come up from the right along beside me, YOU WILL GET BURNT-BADLY- by my exhaust. Chances are I will have sped up to get well ahead of your sweaty ass which is something I do for safety's sake( only one vehicle per lane here, Paco...that’s the law.) Therefore chances are good that I'll never know it happened. Again- this is not because I'm an asshole and don't care, although I am and I don't. It's because I am operating a motorized vehicle in a safe and orderly manner on a system of roads designed for motorized vehicles, and I am already a mile away.

3. You all seem to think that simply because you find yourselves in a rural setting, or at least between major towns and not riding on a multi-lane highway, you can ride all over the goddamn road any which way you want, singly or in large groups, not paying any attention whatsoever, because you are in 18th century fucking France.
This is not France.
This is not the 18th century.
Rural American roadways carry more large motorized commercial vehicles and agricultural implements more of the time than do the major highways. Why? Because actual WORK is being done here, and summertime is the time when most of that work is being done. Summertime does not mean that Pierre hitches up the oxcart and merry peasants go dancing down the road with baskets of cabbage balanced on their heads. It means that local business people fire up the semi, the tractor, the raspberry processor, the silage harvester, the combine, the manure tanks and the hay baler and drive them from one field to the next. They are working against the clock just like any other businessperson. Furthermore, there are special laws that allow agricultural vehicles to use lower-grade, smoky fuels, travel at speeds other than posted, and for underage operators to drive them.

THEY HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.

Remember too: they are also subject to the same laws of physics as cars, motorcycles and you-

Tiny frail objects traveling slowly get turned into nasty bloody confetti when their paths cross those of large heavy objects traveling rapidly.

4. If you are operating a bicycle in an urbanized area, particularly where there is on-street parking, stay out of the traffic lane. PERIOD. I don't care what the law says you can and cannot do. In this case any law allowing you into the flow of motorized traffic is a bad one and should be changed for your safety and mine. You simply cannot accelerate as quickly, maintain posted speeds or stop as quickly as a car can. That this statement pisses you off or that you disagree does not in any way take away from it’s truth. Get over yourself.

4a. DON'T BRING YOUR LITTLE KIDS ON THEIR LITTLE WOBBLY BIKES OUT INTO TRAFFIC WITH YOU. Every single one of you who thinks that they're 'training' their children to ride in town by doing this should be cited for gross child endangerment. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen the following scenarios:

SCENARIO A: Mommy hippie, daddy hippie and three little child hippies are waiting at the corner for the light to change. Once it does, mommy and daddy hippie pedal right off, followed by oldest child. Second child, not wanting to get tangled, waits for the pack to get going before taking off, and struggles to come up to speed, and by now the light is halfway over. Smallest child has been looking at a fire truck and only realizes at the last minute that its time to ride, and drops the bike, then gets back up on the bike and begins to trying to pedal, struggling to get up to speed.
And the light changes.
And smallest child is in the middle of the intersection.

Try and make it through any neighborhood in urban Portland or Seattle and count how many times this happens. Honest to snot. These are probably the same parents that wouldn't dream of giving their children processed sugar or letting them walk alone to school, and yet it seems perfectly OK to let them chance getting squashed by a goddamn ambulance.


SCENARIO B. A giant pack of bicyclists (including a lot of little kids on little bicycles) waits at an intersection for the light to change. The light changes and the ones who aren't deep in conversation or using their cell phones or getting a blowjob take off slowly, trying not to get tangled.Kids drop their bikes, freeze like deer in the headlights, or take off in random directions at random speeds. The rest of the pack straggles off slowly, some riders jumping off halfway to push their bikes, some running into the others, some swerving out into oncoming traffic as they try and go around the cluster-fuck. The whole mess continues to meander across even after the light has changed. Now traffic is backed up. Cars are gunning their engines and honking. Meanwhile more bicyclists hurry to tag themselves on to the last stragglers in the pack, which is now mainly comprised of little kids and assholes. At least one of them (generally an 'adult') flips me off.*

SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT PEOPLE.

Roads are designed for motorized vehicles.
You, on a bicycle, are not a motorized vehicle.
The moment you go out onto the street you are at a disadvantage and that’s simply a fact. If there are designated bicycle lanes in your town, USE THEM EXCLUSIVELY. Particularly if you are riding with children.
If there are no bicycle lanes, pull you head out of your ass and operate your goddamn bicycle DEFENSIVELY . You are at risk. Period.
___________________________________

*OO. Scary bicyclist. One day, scary bicyclist, you won't be flipping off the lady laughing at your sad antics from inside the Buick. You'll be flipping off an undercover cop, or a delivery truck driver in a hurry, or my buddy Chris, who'll flat stop his car, jump out and beat you into a screaming, crying pulp with a jack handle. He is OUT there. And he doesn't care. You already made him late.

Green Ox Reads Seven Government Form: Gluey!!

What have I been doing during my long absence from the innerwubs? Thinking only of you, my darlings. Only of you.

With you in mind, then, I undertook to perfect a special recipe. This is particularly for those of you with an open mind, an adventurous palate and a thrill-seeking liver. So without further ado (or extensive disclaimer - if you misuse this it's going to take some deliberate doing on your part and I'm not your mother)I present to you the fruit of ten years' experimentation:

Shasta Daisies a la Mexico
...a delightful beverage you can serve at your next Young Republicans soiree
fig a: "shasta daisy" (wink wink) showing all plant parts.

Note: Effects and measurements of the "Shasta Daisy" are based on results using a middle aged woman weighing 210 pounds with an empty stomach first thing in the morning. Your results may vary. In fact, if you are allergic to opiates, your results may vary as far as death, which is fatal. Don't be a dipshit.

___________________________________________________________

INGREDIENTS:

-Entire "Shasta Daisy" plants, leaves and all, harvested after the first few seedpods have formed... any undeveloped flower buds removed and discarded, any flower petals removed and discarded, root ends and woody trunk cut off and discarded, the remaining plant parts washed and chopped into manageable pieces. DON'T forget the washing. Particularly if you have dogs. Yeah.
fig. b: "Shasta Daisy" comes in many different colors and petal configurations, which matters not one whit to the relative potency of its psychoactive compounds.

-Lukewarm water as needed

-One whole cake of 'Abuelita' style Mexican chocolate

-One pint heavy cream

-1/4 cup Hershey's Special Dark unsweetened cocoa powder

-Plain white sugar or honey (or fructose) to taste


The following ingredients are optional and to taste and can be omitted if so desired. I don't. These are what makes it extra delicious.
-MORE Hershey's Special Dark unsweetened cocoa powder

-One can of coconut milk (or one handful of shredded sweetened coconut)

-Ground nutmeg

-Ground cinnamon

-Ground black pepper

-More sugar or honey (or fructose.)

______________________________________

INSTRUCTIONS:

Run the chopped "Shasta Daisies" through a blender, using just enough lukewarm water to make things able to move through the blades, adding bit by bit until you have 2 cups of green chopped up goop. Pour into a saucepan and set aside.

Now pour the heavy cream and/or the coconut milk into the blender. Break up the cake of Abuelita Mexican chocolate and add to carafe, blend until smooth. Or as smooth as it gets, which is a little sandy.

Add the rest of the ingredients into the carafe and blend them together now, if you're the bold type and know your spices. Or, you can wait and whisk them in later and taste often. It's up to you. I honestly don't care. Just do whatever the fuck you want. Just go right ahead.

Transfer the contents of the blender to the saucepan. Now add extra lukewarm water, cream or milk to this if you have to, enough to bring the slurry up to a 'Campbells chicken noodle soup' consistency. It all depends on how 'juicy' the "Shasta Daisies" were, so do whatever you gotta do here.


Stirring often, bring the contents of the saucepan up to a bare simmer, just before it begins to bubble actively. If you were all spineless about adding the extra ingredients earlier, now is the time to whisk them in, tasting often, but sparingly. After all, we're talking about "Shasta Daisies" here. At this point it's going to have a distinctly rank, uncooked green vegetable flavor. This is probably because at this point it's raw uncooked vegetable matter. You see.

Once it reaches the 'almost bubbling' point, lower the heat and let it steep on 'low' for at least 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. This develops the spices, extracts the active ingredients from the "Shasta Daisy" and also kills the 'lawn clippings and raw beans' taste.

Let cool (overnight in the fridge is optimum), then strain. I use a ricer over a fine mesh strainer set over a bowl, working in batches, so I can squeeze out every last drop of that "Shasta Daisy" goodness.
fig. 3: "Shasta Daisy". If anyone at this point actually, actually comments 'Hey, that's not a Shasta Daisy!', please go read Wife in the North.

This is delicious. DELICIOUS . The "Shasta Daisy" adds a pleasant astringency that keeps the whole from being too cloying, actually acting as both a culinary and a psychoactive ingredient. One 16 fluid ounce glass is roughly equivalent to the intoxicating effect of one hefty oxycontin, so if you're a cheap date don't be operating any giant wheat combines or the Space Shuttle or attempting microsurgery or taking care of an infant or trying to conduct serious business. Or actually yes, try and conduct serious business. And make a video of that, and send it to me. In about 30 minutes, assuming an empty stomach and a normal constitution, you should begin to feel the effects, which can last anywhere from 6 to 10 hours.

You Randolph Carter types will already know what to expect from the "Shasta Daisy" and its unique melange of active ingredients, and so you'll be glad to hear that you can use any of the usual enhancing agents to kick it with for that extra something special. I'd advise you to let it happen unassisted for the first trial, though. If I add anything, I add a shot of Bushmills and call it good.

Now, you see? Wasn't that worth waiting for? Yes it was. Now here's a picture of some boobs.

APRIL FUCKING FOOL

My computer was wiped out completely-COMPLETELY- by the April Fools' virus. For Gods sake, folks, be careful opening your e-mails. Particularly forwards. I'm pretty sure thats how it snuck in. I checked my mail, then turned off the computer for the day. When I turned it back on, garbage. Toast. A giant heaving pile of steaming fecal debris rotating silently in the void like a derelict spaceship from the planet Fuckroast.

What this means to you is that Paul is going on hiatus. For those of you new to the nutty wacky zaniness and madcap tomfoolery, go hit the archives and see what you missed and cry. (Ignore the labels. The labels mean nothing.) Hit the sidebar and go visit the Muk-sponsored sites. If you want an invite to Unorthodox Juju, or to wah and kvetch about me going on hiatus, or to send me money, gimme a dingle at

redace196oATgmailDOTcom

While I'm here I'll bring things up to date...
The Playboy of the Western World passed away and left us with a lot of things to finalize. He also left us more than enough wherewithal to finalize said things with, which was an unexpected blessing. As in, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG.

The Playboy of the Western World is in heaven, and heaven is a significantly more fabulous place because of that

The Stainless Steel Amazon is going to have a baby here in May sometime, and she's going to do a home birth because she is not a simpering tool of the patriarchy and because birth is not an abnormal occurrance

The Lucky Bastard is riding a Sportster, growing a beard and getting ready to be a dad

The Goonybird is growing like a goony weed and doing his damndest to teach himself how to read!

The Arborist continues butch as fuck and hard as nails, making tall trees tremble, cows cower, and slashing tequila out the neck of the bottle

Girl Getty is still far too gorgeous, has 50% more hair and has opened another store!

Jimmy the Greek is cooking and reading!

Teh Princess is dancing!

Spreidel is running!

The important thing is, everyone is employed, healthy and happy.
Me, I'm outta here.

Yes, 'tis I

I'm still here. I'm just busy doing things. Secret things that you can't know about.

Fine, actually I'm re-doing my bedroom. Now here's a nice picture of Mr. Egyptian Penis Man:


Mr. Egyptian Penis Man says "Look busy"
I say "Never drive a car that has one wheel falling off it"

UPDATED: CRAP!

NOW WITH PICTURES! AT THE END!! SCROLL DOWN!!! QUICK!!!!
_____________________________________

I have too many collections.

I have a collection of 50's diner ware (matched, flawless, full service for 6! THATS RIGHT BITCHES!)
I have a collection of metal Tonka trucks and cars
I have a collection of eggs
I have a collection of things which are spherical (round rocks, globes, old bocci balls, slag...)
I have a collection of old pop bottles
I have a collection of paper ephemera
I have a collection of 60's era underground comix
I have a collection of mid-century modern display pottery
I have a collection of dead animal parts
I have a collection of glass measuring cups
I have a collection of vintage kitchen utensils

The only collection I have displayed in its entirety is the pop bottle collection. The rest are in storage, either in part (eggs, display pottery, animal heads) or in whole (all the rest of the stuff I haven't mentioned.)

My husband got me started collecting purely by chance, way back in 1986, when I mentioned that I needed a measuring cup for the kitchen. He brought me home a depression-era glass mug-style cup. "Aw," I thought, "how nice."

60 measuring cups later......some of which I still have....and use....

A need for an eggbeater (still in use) brought a 1942 Foley with a green handle into the house. Similarly, when our coffeemaker tanked, we picked up a 1935 Pyrex glass percolator (still have two of them, guts included.) Of course, by now we were both hooked. At one point I had every single item in this collectors catalogue:

(...well shit, I sold it and I don't recall the name. Had to get temptation completely out of my path. Anyway, it was a pretty comprehensive book.)

...and some that they'd never heard of. Including hand-made ones. 25 different egg beaters. 17 different pancake flippers. Tasting spoons-5. Choppers-5. Cake knives-4. Tinned milk openers-7 (including one given away as a premium by a funeral home. WTF?) Sub-collections included advertsing premiums, red handles, green handles, yellow handles, Foley, Formay, black composition ware....

In the meantime I had branched out into collecting antique working kitchen appliances, Bakelite, vintage crocheted hot mats, vintage Fire King and Pyrex (curse you Martha Stewart for making latter so desirable that it got priced out of my reach, you bitch!) and I had the Biker halfway talked into doing an entire 1940's kitchen.

Because I was working in rental properties I had my choice of any style of vintage appliance or accoutrement I wanted just for the asking. And they ALL WORKED. Condenser-top refrigerators, gas ranges, you name it- anything my demented little heart desired. Wringer washers? Check! Enamel double-sink with attached drainer? Yup. Light fixtures, fans, hardware, counters, trim....fricken' towel bars, even. LIGHT SWITCHES.

Bear in mind that at the time, we lived in a MOBILE HOME.

I finally woke up one day right before my daughter was going to have a birthday party and looked around at a kitchen that was almost entirely encrusted in vintage kitchen tools and asked myself "Self, why are you nuts?" I sold it all. Well fine, most of it. At least didn't lose money, but still. The habit remains, and I still find myself looking without even meaning to.

Same with the pottery. I found a lovely ikebana piece and it fit so nicely in with my decor. Then I found another, and it complimented the first one, and it was only .10 so how could I NOT buy it, right? And so on, and so on, and....yeah.

The dead animal parts collection is just strange on a couple of different levels. Once again, my husband started it. He presented me with a deer skull with antlers intact, and I displayed it, and then one of his buddies brought me a badger skull, and another guy brought me a coyote jawbone, then my daughter found an entire coyote skull...a crow in a tree dropped a squirrel skull right at my feet one day while I was gardening....the neighbors cat drug a rabbit into my shed and the bugs did the rest. I figure when the Universe wants you to collect something, you'd better heed it.

The problem is, I live in a small house. I really don't mean to accumulate all this crap either; its just once you develop an 'eye' for something, you see it everywhere. Like when you buy a certain make of car and suddenly it seems like the entire world owns the same one. And if you're me and you have the scrounge-bargain gene, you see it everywhere, for DIRT FRICKEN' CHEAP.
Whats a little Muk to do?

...Get buried in crap like the goddam DiAmato brothers if she doesn't watch out.

Anyway, I am seriously thinking about selling the mid-century modern pottery. Here's some pictures. You can enlarge them and enjoy the dust and smudges! The only one with any kind of a flaw is the tall white vase, and it has a chip on the base. Which you can't see in these pictures. So, yeah.




Anyone interested? I've got some sweet stuff. Gimme a dingle.