Skip to main content

slump.

that feeling when you know you should write something on your blog, and you really want to write something on your blog, but your writer's block is so profound that you can't even think of a short piece to fill space. so you put up a few lines of self-pitying text.

also, winter's barely started and i've already had my first tumble. feet went right out from under me on a fairly busy street. i have some aches, and a gash that's going to leave a nice little scar on my knee, but nothing too serious. nonetheless, being as clumsy as i am, it doesn't bode well for the next few months that i went arse over tea kettle the first time i let myself walk on the white stuff.

so maybe i'll just say that i got a concussion when i fell [although i didn't]. or i'll say that this spot of writing malaise is my tribute to swansea city, who have been finding new and exciting was to look pretty uninspiring this premier league season. or i'm still trying to come to terms with life in the trump-led world.

if you've read this whole thing, i'm sorry. this isn't a clever intro to an interesting topic. it's a rather whiny post with no other purpose than to make me feel less guilty about getting nothing done here this week, despite really, really wanting to.

ok, i'll stop now.

i can't even be bothered to post a picture with this. 

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

jihadvertising?

i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:



am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

making faces :: chanel's velvet realm

who doesn't love velvet? i know when i was younger, i used to, as george costanza longed to, "drape myself in velvet" and although that phase passed with time, i still think that the plush fabric has to be one of the high points of human achievement, up there with interior heating, advanced medicine and vodka. so to me, it's no surprise that one of the most hotly anticipated launches in the cosmetic world is chanel's new "rouge allure velvet" lipstick line, because even the name immediately makes me want to put it on my lips.

on a more concrete level, chanel describes these lipsticks as "luminous matte", which is sort of like the holy grail for lipstick lovers. we all want those intense, come-hither film noir lips, the sort where young men and sunlight are lost and never heard from again, but historically [including during the making of those films], applying a matte lipstick felt sort of like colouring in your lips with an old crayon that had…

eat the pain away?

nearly twenty years ago, an emergency room doctor took a look at the crushing muscle tension i was experiencing [they were clenched enough that a doctor at my regular clinic couldn't get a reflex reaction on my left side and thought i might be having a stroke] and told me she believed that i had fibromyalgia. a couple of weeks later, i went to see a family doctor that a coworker had recommended to me. when i told him what the other doctor had said, he snapped that i was being ridiculous, because, if i'd had fibromyalgia, "i wouldn't be able to move". after i moved to toronto, i got a new family doctor and told her what the other doctors had said. she said that she couldn't be sure, but it was better just to deal with any symptoms i had one at a time. then i came back to montreal and got a new family doctor, who didn't really buy into the whole idea of fibromyalgia and said there was no way to do any definitive test anyway. that doctor passed away, and my …