I was supposed to be riding a horse right now. But upon waking up to overcast skies and clouds and impending rain, we had to cancel. I would have liked to have ridden a horse; I've never done it. But as you all know, me waking up gloomy means a crabbyapplesauceface blog entry. It's almost something you can count on. Unlike that stupid weather forecast I read a few days ago that said today was to be sunny, and instead delivered it yesterday. Who the hell delivers something early?
I have a new favourite song to hate. It's that Jagger one. It's horrid. Terrible, terrible, terrible. I never hated the band before (whoever it is), I mostly just didn't mind them. But this song is just awful. And forgive me Young Pups in Modern Musicland, using Mick Jagger in your lyrics is not ironic nor iconic nor retro nor cool. It's just kind of stupid. Though I've at least finally realized what I hate about a great deal of music lately: no real instruments. I finally get what all the vinyl purists have been going on about. I want to hear real guitars, not synthesizers. Gawd, I'm getting old.
Let's tackle commercials on TV. There is one for Fabreeze. They take people to a house they must be filming an episode of Hoarders in (preferably one where they discover dead animals petrified under old boxes of Popeye's chicken and report cards from 1965), and ask them what they smell. 'Oh, meadows!' the blindfolded people exclaim. 'I smell unicorns!'. Then they take off their blindfolds and realize they're in a vat of sweat with poo smeared on the floor. I find this disturbing. First, nobody - and I mean nobody - is going to blindfold me and lead me away. Second, Fabreeze smells like Poptarts taste. You inhale that crap deeply, you cough. Trust me.
My cat JoJo is sitting here staring at me for no reason. She's a lovely cat, but she's a dim, dim girl.
That reminds me. I have to go pick up cat food. They eat the most expensive stuff there is and I have to go to the vet to get it. 4 cases, 250 bucks. It's the only way to keep them out of the vet's with UTIs (if you don't know what that is, you don't even care about this whole topic anyway, so not to worry), but what a racket. Christopher calls their food cate. I don't know how to put a little french accent over the 'e', but now I know you're saying it right, so, mission accomplished.
The first record I ever bought was a 45 - Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head. That's for anyone who would like to know more about me.
Oh, and here's my take on election signs: I hate them. I really do. I find them cluttery and distracting and not at all good at making me change my mind about things. In fact, they just reinforce my decisions, and often in ways that the sign putter uppers might not realize. I know that candidates can put signs up on private property, which means if I see one outside a business, that business owner is telling me how he or she votes. When I see a PC candidate's sign in front of a business, this is my thought process: You want to have PM Harper as your boss; Harper is still exporting asbestos from Quebec to developing countries with unregulated building codes; asbestos causes cancer and has been banned around the world; Canada should be ashamed; Harper is not ashamed; I will never vote for a government who supports this practice; you want to work for that government; this business supports you; this business supports exporting asbestos.
See how that happens? No more business of mine.
Sometimes I need a trail of breadcrumbs to get out of my own brain.