Glad I don't live in that building anymore. Surprised it wasn't arson.

I hope Santa will let someone my age sit on his lap. I also hope no one before me peed in it.

I went to say happy birthday to a friend of mine, then looked at his "Interests" section and found this little blurb:

On the forth day, she decided to think, in an organized manner, about the problem of romance. "When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on – series polygamy – until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter. Hey, that's pretty good. If I had a pencil and paper, I'd write that down." Alas, she had no pencil, while the roll of paper that sat by the chamber pot was destined for a different end.
-Tom Robbins 'Still Life With Woodpecker'

It was just several years ago that I discovered http://www.meetup.com then myspace, then http://www.friendster.com then http://www.hi5.com and then http://www.facebook.com and now http://www.twitter.com  and still getting the hang of it. It's basically, the latter, an updating site, like what you do on Facebook, but without all the stupid app's and personal stuff. You're blogging only 140 words an entry too, and you can do it from your cellphone, which everything is done by these days. I could be on the bus, bored out of my dreadlocks, when the bus cuts off another driver, like yesterday. I'd comment on it and other things that happen on the bus. I tell you, if I weren't so lazy, I could write a book or make a film on riding the bus. I do most of my journal writing on  there, even though it gets bumpy on most routes.

I'm rambling, as usual.

Ahem,

Anyway, I'm sending off a friend's birthday gift today, if I get it done, so he'll receive it sometime next week. He knows who he is, eh?

Got a wedding to think of, a cousin's next Saturday, so I can't go to that vegan picnic I'm jonesing to attend. I'm surrounded by too many omnivores and I'm suffocating!

Suffocating in so many ways.

Jane Burpee wrote this as a present for my 40th birthday. I just had to put it up here. Just imagine The Queen herself reading this.

A Letter From The Queen.
My husband and I wish you, and all members of the Commonwealth Countries, a very happy 40th birthday. This year has been one of both joy and tragedy, and we remember particularily at this time, all those in N.Borneo, Adisababa and Transcona.
My husband regrets that he is unable to be with you this evening, as it's his weekend to man the souvenir counter at the palace.
I'm honoured to have the opportunity to attend the Sarasvati Productions of monologues here in The Pas. What a thrill to hear about Sanitary Napkins. I remember well, Margaret and I strapping the maxi pads to our feet and whizzing down the palace corridors like skating Princesses. Our mother The Queen was not amused.
My husband gives me great pleasure.....in supporting me on the throne for 53 years. He is as solid as a brick, and stubborn as a ....no, that's not right. He is a leader among men, but still remains two paces behind me.
Lorraine, may your days ahead be as bright as jewels in my crown and may the rain shower sparkles on your umbrella. My mother, a wise and avid fly-fisherwoman, once said, and I quote: "When you slide down the bannister of life, make sure the splinters are facing in the right direction".
And now, my children (and Camilla I suppose), join my husband and I in wishing you a very happy and memorable 40th birthday celebration. God bless you all!

I found this blurb in The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths & Secrets.

The original Valentine's Day in the ides of February was Rome's Lupercalia, a

festival of sexual license. Young men chose partners for erotic games by

drawing "billets" --small papers-- with women's names on them. Christians

denounced  these prototypical valentines as "'heathens' lewd customs."

Churchmen tried to substitute saints'names and short sermons on the billets,

but people soon reverted to the old love-notes. February was sacred to Juno

Februata, Goddess of the "fever" (febris) of love. The church replaced her with

a mythical martyr, St. Valentine, who was endowed with several

contradictory biographies. One of them made him a handsome Roman

youth, executed at the very moment when his sweetheart received his billet of

love. St. Valentine became a patron of lovers perforce, because the festival

remained dedicated to lovers despite all official efforts to change it. Even in

its Christianized form, the Valentinian festival involved secret sex worship,

called "a rite of spiritual marriage with angels in a nuptual chamber". Ordinary

human beings engaged before witnesses in the act of sexual intercourse

described as the marriage of Sophia and the Redeemer. A spoken formula

said, in part, "Let the seed of light descend into thy  bridal chamber, receive

the bridegroom...open thine arms to embrace him. Behold, grace has

descended upon  thee." During the Middle Ages, St. Valentine was much

invoked in love charms and potions, since he was a sketchily Christianized

version of such love-gods as Eros, Cupid, Kama, Priapus, or Pan.

I'm also sad to say, that Cheryl Neill, who wrote, Unleashed, passed away of cancer Sept.5th, 2007. I wished she came out to see me do the the two times I'd done it so I could've thanked her for such a wonderful piece. I was very sad to know she's forever gone and unable to bring just a bit more joy into the lives she affected. I'm sure there are tons of other people who've met her that are even sadder than I, yet knew her.

I had a dream last night that I was cast in a commercial. I had almost all of the lines, but I was so sleepy that I took such a long nap. When I awoke, they'd shot other scenes and had someone else do my role! I was so cheesed about it too that nobody woke me up for my turn. Bah! The last moment in the dream was getting a ride home by a crew member who filled me in on my missed scenes. I hate these kinds of dreams, they're too real!

I'm glad it was only a dream.