are blogs dead?

a photo of the middle class

i'm noticing that most blogs, including my own, that i follow are realizing less frequent posts. or not. maybe i'm not paying enough attention.

i want to post something brilliant but my brain is mush. most noticeably on fridays. which is today for those who check here too often.

and for those keeping score at home, my basketball game has mostly returned, and i will not have to quit my job to retain my basketball abilities. (people with couches rejoice) that means i can retain my great joy and outlet and the gym to offset the non-joy and repression i get from working. hurrah! balance is restored.


so my gal and I went house hunting. our real estate agent wants to put us in an area he believes will increase the most in value --- so we went to scarborough (upper UPPER beaches).

bungalows...

now, i'm not from southwestern ontario, so maybe they mean/signify something else to those more familiar with them, but to me (and i believe to my beloved as well), they signify sadness. failure in thought. a lack of imagination. all that space and you built a squat little one floor house smack dab in the middle of a lawn? all that lawn, that imaginary green space that actually spends the majority of its existence as a snow and leaf receptacle, you highlight this with a house? with a shack? the houses we looked at were so small. i'm not even sure we can GET a mortgage. i mean, i wouldn't give me a mortgage.

these bungalows sell for the low low price of $295,000. and just a GO train to the city! no. hell no. i'm not going to pretend to be able to afford to overpay to live in the middle of nowhere (sorry, upper beaches). i can't. i'll pretend i can afford a nice west end home. the hunt will continue.

it's fun to walk into people's houses though. we looked at 7 in all. 3 had no occupants. but 4 did. and whoooooooohooo, people that aren't me live like fucking pigs!

it was awesome . children running rampant, neglected kids wanting to play with you, the tv on, watching hockey, kicking out the renters from the basement, the sauna behind a secret door in the bathroom, the toilet paper left in the unflushed john, the dog that won't stop barking, the cat hair, the dirty laundry.

people are so gloriously bizarre behind the doors of their home, doors they have to open to you if they want to sell it to you so they can move their quirks on to other molested abodes.

looking back on this blog entry, it kind of sucks. maybe this will save it:

the NEWFS WON GOLD!!! is that a first? probably not, but i love that they closed all the schools in the entire provicne so that newfs everywhere (or, the newfs who didn't move away, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah) could watch it.

as i am currently IM'ing with my 10 year old cousin madison, she says that she watched it, and so did everyone she knew.

HISTORIC! a day she'll remember for the rest of her life. get enough newfs feeling the pride like that and we can separate! us and alberta, taking our oil and getting the hell out. well, not exactly 'OUR' oil. in fact, we just get to work on the projects, and the real profits go to big multinational bloodsuckers. okay scrap that 'we' party. but there are other assets. (the bay street lingo!)

i have a terrible ego-driven desire to return to newfoundland, run for premier, hold a referendum to break off from canada, win, join france, import cheese and wine, have a huge huge huge HUGE 3 year party, and then turn the province into a tourist/oil/party/music/culture paradise!!! HELL YEAH!!

considering the rate of global warming and the potential for exponential increases, newfoundland could be jamaica in 35 years. and me, the boss of it all, the king of newfoundland!! ME! THE KING OF NEWFOUNDLAND! the land of the free and the drunk and the rich and the warm. how'd you like that.

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warm regards

f