My Summer Vacation

Sorry that I've been remiss about keeping up with this blog the last two months. I've been too hot, too lazy, or have been having too good a time to bother writing. Besides, I didn't want to bore any of us by describing the relative contentment I've felt. This feeling is something we all desire for ourselves and our loved ones, it's wonderful when it comes to roost upon us for a while, but do we ever want to hear about it at any length? Is there anything more tedious than listening to someone go on and on about how pleasurable something is? Dissatisfaction, if not forever arising in the same pattern, is much more interesting to discuss. The more directly experienced and less said about contentment, the better.

I've visited and been visited, I've danced and have been danced around, I've shut some doors and been shut out by some before feeling better, I've loved and been loved, I've been worrying less, I've been camping and been campy, I've taken happy pills and have heard a lot of good...

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZ

See?

I'll try to bring you back to life with some startling zoological facts I learned in Toronto this past weekend (some of which will lay the foundation of my next entry):

Flamingos are pink because they eat so much shrimp. If they ate nothing but fish and chips, their feathers would turn white.

Rabbits excrete two kinds of poo: some little pellets are for sweeping out of the cage; some are meant to be eaten so the tough grass particles can have another chance to be fully digested.

Mick Jagger looks exactly like you'd think: small and scowly. The Stones have been practising for their upcoming tour in a public school gym down the street from my Mum's house. She wanted to flash her tits at them as they drove past her porch one night, but being the classy lady she is, restrained herself. Not a week had gone by since Jesse gave me a heart attack by sneaking the extremely gay (and catchy) 1984 Jagger/Michael Jackson duet "State of Shock" onto his druggie PRIDE weekend CD compilation when I happened to see the sexy senior himself in an awful neon green t-shirt getting into a car fifteen feet away.

Iggy Pop is only five foot one. How can this be? This passenger rides and rides but needs to sit on two telephone books to see out the window. No wonder he and Mick can thrash around on stage the way they do: if they kicked you you'd hardly feel it.

The colour of a chicken's eggs are directly related to the colour of their earlobes.

Yes, chickens have earlobes. I'll leave you to gnaw on that for a while.