Water cooler potty mouth

As heard around the water cooler today: Why are hemorrhoids called hemorrhoids? Why aren't they called asteroids?

I'm in training for a literary marathon

A friend has given my one of the greatest compliments of all times; she's invited me to participate in a 3-day novel writing competition as a joint activity Labour Day weekend. (Another friend invited me to blog with her, but I was "une grosse poule froid" to do anything about it, until starting up Mongo Adventurers in a fit of crackling creativity).

I think it was the same crackling creativity or perhaps the high of birthing a large deliverable at work that got me to agree to dispose of my long weekend to long hours of writing about a period in a family's life that she'd been living with in her head for over 14 years. Or perhaps her story was just one that was too good to leave alone, as she teased me with tantalizing bits during a morning debrief, followed by an afternoon chit chat. One thing lead to another, and now I just can't help myself. I've been sucked in.

I have few expectations of the exercise except to spend several hours before the computer, climbing into a world of characters that I readily see. I hope to be able to capture their story as the picture plays before me. It's going to be a bit of a ping-pong type co-authoring exercise. I liken it to the experiment that the CBC did last year with writers from each of the 10 provinces in Canada, having each write a piece of the story as it traveled from East to West.

My co-conspirator and I are still working out the kinks of the story that are allowable (like creating an outline, like having an agreed to plot, like identifying who's going to do what). With two lunch hours left to hash it out before we begin, I'm starting to feel vicarious nerves that she's been carrying since pitching the idea. Three more sleeps (or two and a half if I'm to start the first leg of the race as of midnight Friday). Hooh boys.

RTFM

I've had a weird fascination with a TV program available on satelite dish. It's called Miami Ink.

I'm of two minds about tattoos. On one hand, I want one. On the other hand, I would probably never get one. I don't want to be a respectable old lady at 80 with a tatoo on my backside that I then regreted, because I'm the kind of gal who wouldn't get a sensible tat of a coy fish or a departed loved one's name on a shoulder, oh no, not me.

Not since watching the summer Olympics a few years back when there became a run on the "Made in the > enter your country's name here < " tattoo craze, did I really start thinking about tattoos and whether I'd have one or not. Since I saw my first tattoo (on Leon's fore arm when I was four), I kind of had a prejudice about who had 'em, who got 'em, and was always curious why some one would do that.

Having spent a decade in er, a non-mainstream relationship where the norm really wasn't ordinary (back then anyway), my prejudices were put a side and became main stream to me at the time.

Re-entering the real world (or the rest of the world you all see), I've begun to see that tattooing has become much much more mainstream. 30-something mothers-of-two are now getting pasley patterns permanently inked across their backsides, showing 'em off during coffee clutches.

Which brings me back to my own fantasy of this form of permanent adornment. To get one or not is one issue. The bigger issue is what to get? As previously mentioned, I like the idea of "Made in ...". It's cute, short (and thus less painful - in theory anyway), descrete (depending on where you have it) and somewhat patriotic while not going overboard. However, that's not what I'd get.

So, that naturally leads to the question "Whatdya get if you did it?" I think I've come to a definitive answer. RTFM.

That leads to the next question "Where?"

Below my naval.


Note
If you are interested in the concept of texted based tattoos Darren Barefoot's article was the starting point for me.

Housekeeping

While cleaning out my email Inbox I came across this gem, which I think aptly, applies:

Always keep several get well cards on the mantel..... so if unexpected guests arrive, they'll think you've been sick and unable to clean.

Sure. I think I'm perpetually ill then.

Part of mongo adventures is coming home with other people's stuff, usually that which they see so little value in that they decide to put it curb side by any means ... trash or treasure sale, tag sale, yard sale, garage sale, moving, everything must go sale. I'm a sucker for picking through some one else’s stuff to see if I can find the one appropriate (or inappropriate) gem in the lot.

Take, for example, one of this Summer’s greatest tag sale purchases: a cat phone. It's not a phone for cats, but shaped like a small, black and white feline. The telephone hand set is incorporated into the model's back, which helps to make the device almost indistinguishable from its live compatriots in the house.

The telephone has been mistaken for one of the three amigos several times, much to the alarm of the humanoid companions (as it has also been used for few impractical jokes). I can't say that any of the other cats have been mistaken for a telephone as their ring tone is set much too low.

That being said, there is little practicality in having a cat-shaped telephone, and after a few times accidentally hanging up on the caller, I can understand why el gato was put on the block. However, as much needed secure landline, it'll do the trick until my next find!

Welcome to Mongo Adventurer

After a lot of hemming and hawing I've finally decided to put keys to the board in a different way to chart some of the currently uncharted waters of my daily life in mongo.

Mongo, for those new to the word is a term I came across in Ted Botha's book: "Mongo: Adventures in Trash". A great read, by the way, for any one who likes doing a bit of urban recon.

Mongo, as I choose to use it means anything salvaged from the trash, something that is becoming a significant theme in my life.

I hope to post here from time to time different stories of what I've come across during my adventures. I do hope you'll joing me for a spell, and perhaps contribute your own stories of great finds.