Maybe She Didn’t Want Her Boyfriend To Squeeze The Charmin

Well, we have an update about that woman who was found stuck to her john. I guess she wasn’t sitting on the throne for the whole two years, but she was in the bathroom that long. She had been sitting on the toilet for a month. Now, the burning question of how her boyfriend managed to take leaks and such while she was hogging the facilities for two years has been answered. They had a second bathroom. But most shocking of all is that I missed one very funny detail in the first story. A sheriff who found her stuck to the toilet had the last name of Whipple. He’s Mr. Whipple, like the Mr. Whipple in the “don’t squeeze the Charmin” commercials! How funny is that?

Any way you look at it, both stories make the point clear that these two people are very, very screwed up folk.

Excuse Me. Can You Point Me In The Direction Of The Reaper?

This story about an assisted suicide facility in Switzerland moving in next to a brothel is a little quirky, but this statement jumped out at me.

The only problem ever is that Dignitas (the assisted suicide centre) doesn’t advertise its presence – and a lot of people get lost and have to ask for directions.

I know that in Switzerland, assisted suicide is legal. But if I were living there, and someone asked me to point them in the direction of the help me cash in my chips hut, especially if the person didn’t appear to be dying or in severe pain, I’d have a lot of trouble telling them where it was. I’d have a much easier time telling them where the brothel was! I don’t know. If I did give them directions, I’d be wondering about them for the rest of the day, and their face would haunt me for a lot longer. I would wonder why they would want to die so badly that they would pay 5 grand to get someone to help them die. I just don’t think I could give them directions to their own death, even if it appeared to be their choice. At the very least, I’d just say I didn’t know where it was and get out of there.

If This Is Any indication, We’ll Need A Sex-offenders Against Animals Registry Soon.

Here are two cases of men who are lucky they don’t live in Scotland, because if they did, they’d be on the sex-offenders registry so fast, and they’d sure deserve it more than Ye old bike-humper.

There’s Joshua Coman of Kansas who likes canine ass, and was very fortunate that his victim, a rottweiler, didn’t fight back, which makes me wonder if she enjoyed it. I mean, I’m sure she could have made a meal of him if she didn’t. She’s a frickin rottweiler!

And then there’s this oddball from New Zealand who tried to screw a goat, but willy went limp. They didn’t reveal his name for the sake of his….do my eyes deceive me? Does that say wife? It does! So let me get this straight. He is married, and he’s still trying to get it on with woolly animals. What the hell? If he were in Scotland, I wonder if his name would be McGreggor.

They are very lucky they are where they are, because officials are still contemplating whether or not they should be registered as pervs, even though both of them seemed to have gone a lot further to earn the label than screwing a bike in the privacy of a hotel room.

I Guess She Had The Fucking Guts. It’s Me Who Lacks The Brain

We’ve all seen the scene on TV where someone has tried everything to persuade a suicidal person not to do it, and out of desperation, they try to snap them out of it. But if you’re going to try that in real life, for one, be sure you have things very much under control, and mmore importantly, don’t hand the suicidal person a loaded gun! This is an especially bad idea when the person is drunk and this loaded weapon belonged to the suicidal person’s late father whose death was contributing to her desire to die.

Most importantly of all, when the weapon misfires, do not, for the love of god, reload it! You already made a pretty risky move, and the fates were on your side. Now capitalize on that and don’t give her another chance! This calling her bluff thing sure isn’t working, and you know that now, so stop it!

Aside: Why does the fact that this man’s defense attorney’s name is Leonard Cohen amuse me? I keep thinking he’s going to write a song about this tragic tale.

Let Them Bake Cake

Sure, these guys could have turned their lives around, but they’re gangster prisoners, you’re guards, and they just baked you a cake! Shouldn’t one of you have thought it was a bad idea to chow down? Guess not, since you’re all in the hospital being treated for mysterious symptoms. I’m just amazed that nobody took a second to ponder the motives of these prisoners for baking you a cake before digging in.

Ug! People And Their Explosive Tempers…

I don’t know whether to feel relieved, disgusted, or completely frustrated by this.

Leaders of the world’s Muslim nations have decided to sue countries where humourists live who choose to make fun of Islam. They say their proposed “legal tool” would be similar to the laws against claiming the holocaust didn’t happen.

Here’s the part where I’m relieved, and I get to be an asshole. At least they’re not dispatching terrorists, post haste. Oh no! Now Canada might get sued!

Here’s the disgusted part. How can they sit their and say anti-holocaust denial laws are the same as these proposed lawsuits? There’s a big difference between trying to claim something didn’t happen when there’s proof out the wazoo that it did, and screaming at people for making a joke. Newsflash, guys. You’re not the only ones being made fun of. You’re just one of the more recent subjects. And what makes you so special that we have to stifle our speech when talking about you? What makes you so fragile and in need of being handled with care? And if one person so much as tells me I don’t know what it’s like to be made fun of…oh you don’t wanna know. I think I have a right to tell some other people to grow a thick skin.

And here’s the frustrated part. I can’t believe they think a lawsuit is going to stop people from thinking what they think. I can’t believe they think their idea has a chance in hell of flying. Now that I’ve said that, it will.

If they’re so upset and want so-called bigots and blasphemers to know how it feels, why don’t they give them a taste of their own medicine? Make fun of them for a while. If it hurts the bigots’ feelings somehow, then they’ll have made their point without being tools about it. If it doesn’t, well…then I guess everybody else has made their point and it’s time for the fragile among us to get tougher.

Make Something Idiot Proof And The World Will Make A Better Idiot

Japanese scientists have invented smart glasses that they say can help you find things you’ve lost by playing back recordings made by a built-in camera of the last time you were with the object you’re looking for.

This is a pretty neat idea, but what are you supposed to do if you lose your glasses?

The Babs Journal: Day 2 (May 10, 2005)

Well, apparently this afternoon I get my puppy. Still don’t know anything about it. We did a handle walk already. It was a little easier than the one I did at the interview, probably because I’d been warned about the details of it from the interview. It was cool. It’s really weird telling Tim to sit, forward, left, right, straight on, haven’t had to tell him to leave it yet. He’s such a nice dude. He was helping me because I wasn’t getting the whole wrist-flick thing for the handle check. Patience of Job I tell ya. that’s all we’ve done so far.

Anka, the housekeeper, is a doll. I thought I lost my necklace, turns out it got squished into my laundry. Woopsy doodles. But she’s a real sweetheart, made us breakfast and kept getting people stuff. Margery and I got a little lost, not really, and she was showing us stuf.

Showing us stuff? More like coming to our rescue and bringing us back to where we were supposed to be. I remember when we almost stumbled into the dining room again. She popped up and said “Are you hungry? Where are you going?”

Oh, Headrick is a toolchest. She was using the wrong person’s bathroom. We all have our own bedroom, but there are bathrooms for every two people, meaning Sharon and I share one, and I don’t know whose bathroom I was using. But oops, that won’t happen again. Headrick’s a tool. Oh well, nobody saw me do it, only reason I realized it was when I said to Sharon, “I lost my necklace coming back from the shower,” and she kind of didn’t go to the door I thought she would. Woops. Oh well, it’s all good now. Well that’s what happens when ya give johns to every two people. Too many johns! But I’m not complaining. That’s about all the adventures so far. I’m guaranteed to have more real soon.

I’m starting to like Tim the student a little more. He alternates between being cool and giving me the creeps. Very bitter man. He knows the other dick I was babbling about yesterday, and he thinks he’s as much of a dick as I do. Apparently he did similar things to him. Stupid dick.

Well Sharon just went out for her walk. Maybe I’ll scope out the place to see who’s hanging around. I’m really starting to like Margery, real cute lady.

Ooo boy. We got our goody bags! They have a harness and a leash and a play collar, and a dish, and…ooo what else? Ooo some reflective stuff for the harness…and a sterilized bone! a toy already, a bone! oo what else did I get…a whistle…..I think that was about it. A brush and comb too. The harness had like two pieces and then there was the leash and collar thingy…oh man…can’t believe I have it all.

We learned about how to come through doors with the dog, sounds like getting places will be real slow the next little while. Apparently the dogs decide to be real assholes and not sit and wait for you to tell them to go through doors so you have to take them back to the door and make them do it over and over and over and over again, until they sit and wait.

That was so unbelievably painful, making the dog sit at every door. How about the dog just stands there until you get the door open, and then you can tell the dog to go through! That looks more normal than the dog plopping down on its butt at every door. So dumb.

We get our dogs after lunch! We get them after lunch! Oh my oh dear oh boy! We get our dogs after lunch! People are out on handle walks now. I went on another handle walk.

That’s Ottawa speak for Juneau walk. Although I’d never seen a rolled up rug. It was just the instructor on the other end of the harness.

He taught me about what to do if the dog sniffs. lots of no leave it…and how to slow him down.

Note to past self: You should have paid better attention to that. That was a lesson you needed to use more often.

And he told us about busy busy. that’s doggy talk for go relieve yourself. that cracked me up.

What a dumb term. Busy? What, are we afraid of saying what’s really going on? At least some people refer to their dogs’ taking a crap as doing his business. But busy? How British. Oh, I think my doggy has to visit the loo!

For the first little bit, I guess you free busy your dog. So you let them out loose in the busy area. No leash. Weird! But oh well. Then I just stand there and wait.

No, past self, the word isn’t weird. It’s dumb! That would have been ok if we free busied for, hmmm, a day, if that has to be the way. But we free busied for way, way, waaaay too long! You will see.

That’s about it, but we eat in like 20 minutes. I’m hungry hungry hungry hungry! I feel like what the dog must feel like around feeding time. I keep hearing another handler’s voice in my head going, “foodies foodies foodies!”

Wow, my life is going to change. My cane stands idle. It’s weird.

Tim is so nice. He doesn’t make me feel on edge, but at the same time he’s testing me. Bastard. Well not really. There was this one practice exercise when they were describing how we would go through the grooming room door. I told him to sit and he said “why do you want me to sit?” I said, “Uh, cause the door opens away from me. Er, maybe I shouldn’t.” He’s like, “Confidence, confidence, you were right.” Bastard! He already knows me, hahha.

Well, next time I sit down to write, there will be a dog’s name in it. Ooo!
ooo! ooo!I’ve got 15 minutes still before lunch. Maybe I’ll go and find who I can find. Have I bored you guys yet? I realize that the way I’m writing this is more like a diary. So if you’d rather I stop, just tell me.

Ok, we had lunch, and scary Jane was there. Man she really sounds like scary Jane now. Oh she so does. She sat plop right beside me. She’s not scary…yet, although I definitely saw edges of it. She said she wasn’t going to be telling stories about me. Ok then. And then good old student Tim opens his big fat yap and mentions that I dozed off when Sue was reading the contract, not that that happened for long before it was made clear to the whole class that I was snoozing. He says it straight to scary Jane. I was so embarrassed I could have died. But Jane, after saying “oh no, oh no!” wasn’t too bad about it. I thought, “Oh great, there go my chances of graduating.”

I guess that wasn’t anything that needed to be worried about.

But now I wait for my dog. I wait. They took my leash. I sit, and wait. Anybody ever hear that before? I sit, and wait, until they come. Ok that was really dumb. I sit, and wait, until they come, and then I’ll be real, busy busy. Ok I’ll stop now.

There’s some water in my water dish, there’s all my stuff picked up, and soon I will have to stop abruptly and put this away because they’ll have a woofer puppy on the end of my leash. My leash. My puppy. Mine mine mine! Ok I’ll stop now. If I don’t write in this, I’ll pace. I’m listening for any sign of sound, for anyone getting their dogs. I think we’re all waiting. I don’t think anybody’s got theirs yet. Tim has to go get the puppies and I sorta remember where the kennels are. I listen listen for knock knocks. We’re all in our separate rooms, in our separate sets of emotions. Everyone else is getting dog no. 2 or 3, and they’re nervous.

Yeah, past self, that wasn’t very smart to go to a class for retrains. I know instructor Tim told you that the class was very small and you’d get lots of individualized attention, but a class for retrains is shorter, and everyone else is coming in to get a new dog, but they know most of the techniques. They just need a refresher. Sure, they’re going to cover everything, but at a much faster pace. This is all new for you! You should have waited for at least a new dog class at this school. But this opportunity came up, and you grabbed it, scared as you were, because you felt you had to get it done and get moving with your life. That was bad. Your life can continue until you get the right match. Patience! You needed patience!

I just find it hard to digest. My life is going to change, today. Today! My cane is in the closet, locked away. That has almost symbolic importance. Bye-bye cane.

It was really hard, they showed me how the dog would have to behave at the van. It’s hard getting out of a van caneless. You can’t check the distance to the ground! I’m not used to that! That was nerve-wracking. But yeah we’ve done steps, doors, the van, and did I already say that they said the first few days the dog will make journeys real slow because they’ll misbehave and have to be told no and made to do it over?

Margery makes me laugh. She always says “jeepers twist.” What’s with jeepers twist. It’s cute anyway.

Man they take care of us. They bring us our food already done up. Oh oh I heard a knock knock. It’s my knock knock. It’s my knock knock. It’s my dog. My babs. Yellow lab, dark yellow with black around her eyes as if she’s wearing mascara. She’ll be two by the end of class, unsure of the day. She’s a lab. and her name is babs! And she’s mine, and she’s giving me a run for my money.

Oh, past self, you don’t know the half of it.

To see a picture of her, go here.

But must go, She’s whining, and I should probably be there for the poor thing. and then we’ll go to dinner together. that should be a challenge.

Man it’s a lot of mental energy telling her all these things, heel, door, sit, every move I make has a command for her. And she can get me confused. She can spin me around so fast I don’t know where I’ve been. Gotta go, have a question for Tim.

Wow, my left hand has leash burn from puppy. She’s challenging me, but we’re getting there.

No, past self, you weren’t. She didn’t respect you, and you were too chicken to stand up and show her who was boss, so she thought she was.

She was the only dog to try and jump on the serving counter. Try? More like succeed. Anka was quick. Down she came and red went my face.

And it’s hard to eat with dog. She’d wait until I had a swig of juice and then she’d be bad. How can a master with a mouth full of juice tell her no? Smart puppy. Oh well, day is almost over. More tomorrow.

Posting I Am

I was looking over the coming events listings in the
Merc
when I saw this:

Addictions Are Us meets in the Hastings Room of the West-End Community Centre, 21 Imperial Rd. S. from 10 to 11:30 a.m. This self-help group discusses coping skills required to get and maintain control of alcohol, drug, gambling and other addictions.

Addictions Are Us? Isn’t that kind of a crappy name for a support group?  To me it’s sorta like starting a group at a women’s shelter and calling it the Punching Bags.  *Are* us?  What the heck is that?

It might sound strange, but when I hear a name like that, the first thing I think of is Toys “R” Us.  What does Toys “R” Us do? They sell toys.  they always have sold toys, they always will sell toys.  They aren’t trying to wean themselves off toys in the hopes that one day they’ll become a successful insurance brokerage.  They are a toy store. So by that logic, these people are addicts.  They’re addicts now, they’ll be addicts later.  Hell of a way to instil confidence there.  Why not use something like recoveries are us?  Wouldn’t that make more sense and maybe make people feel a little better about their prospects? Just sayin’.