Would you like some cheese with that whine?
This instant, I feel much like I used to at a Grade Seven slumber party, afraid to offer my comments in the dark for fear of the retribution/peals of laughter that would inevitably result. But what the hell, I'm going to say it anyway.

I've now officially gone 24 hours without receiving an email. Of any sort other than evil, foul spam. Pr0n, ridiculously cheap dvds and pills to help with my erections. (God, do they know me).

Seriously. Now, I'm not saying I'm some sort of PIT (Pamie in Training) who would actually crawl over broken glass to simply be left in email peace for a day, but when you have four separate email windows open and nothing's happening, it might be cause for concern. I only hope my unemployment is at the root of this radio silence. Everyone is ensconced in their workplaces, by the watercooler, surfing their daily list of journals, liberating office supplies, whatever. There simply isn't time to email the Big Girl. I understand. Really. *sniff*

~~~~~~~~~~

Damn, it's cold. Let me repeat, for those of you who don't reside in a northern clime: Damn, it's cold. I leaned out the back door to hook Bailey up to her chain so she could complete her morning ablutions, and my hand stuck to the metal clip! Images of A Christmas Story flashed through my brain as I gently tugged my fingers from the metal, praying I wouldn't leave sheets of epidermis behind. I was lucky, but I screamed a vile obscenity into the snow-tossed morning air for good measure. I'm looking forward to early next week, when rumour has it the temps will hover around the -4C mark.

~~~~~~~~~~

Update: 24 and one half hours, and still nothing. Grmph.

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I'm sitting here listening to Moontaxi, alternating steadily between Soft Rock, Top 40, Canadian Rock and Classic Rock. For a moment, my attention is taken up in chat with a discussion about just how damn cold it is today, and then I realized what I was listening to: The BeeGees. I hadn't heard one of their songs since Maurice passed away. They will never perform another concert, hold another press conference, joke around with each other in that easygoing way that comes from being brothers, but also totally connected through music their entire lives.

Maurice Gibb

1949-2003

I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees

And misty memories of days gone by

We could never see tomorrow,

no one said a word about the sorrow.

Posted at 10:52 a.m.