I apologise for the comment moderation

I am being spammed up the wazoo, which is not as much fun as it sounds.  What is amazing is that they are bothering, truly bothering, to keep filling in the little word verification thing over and over again. I hope they are getting paid well for their troubles.

Anyway. Do not let this put you off. Feel free to comment, telling me (for e.g.) how great I am, how much you love my blog, etc etc. 

In other news, I have had a letter from the Canadian government that says I have met their requirements for residency. We have given them $490, and any day now I will be called to a dusty room in a government office, asked what my favourite colour is, and called to sign a form whilst listening to a Celine Dion lookylikey singing the French-Canadian version of the Canadian national anthem. 

Coming next: I apply for citizenship, and, three years later, find myself in possession of duelling citizenships. 

Pip "Ceint de fleurons glorieux" Pip

NWM

The Crêpe of Things To Come

N.B.  I did not cut this out myself with my tiny monkey hands; I stole it off a tweet of Sali Hughes'.  Do you love it?

I have a business idea you cannot resist

I often have ideas that other people have also had. Sometimes, I have an idea, and I think O that will never  take off, and then someone else has it and it does. These ideas have included a lot of things, e.g.:

- a cone for putting peppercorns in your pepper mill without them jizzing all over the counter;
- a comedy sex blog;
- a blog about apostrophe's in the wrong place;*
- crossing a poodle with a cocker spaniel and calling the outcome a "cockapoo";
- putting sheep grease and old fish eyes in a pot, calling it "Cream of the Sea" and selling it for $453.

Etc.

For some years (I have witnesses), I have, when "in my cups", told people about my favourite idea of all: a troupe of persons of smaller stature assembled for the purpose of serving superior Mexican-styled snacks.

Imagine it, if you will: you are having a cock-tail party.  Everyone is standing around having a drink etc. They are a bit bored and also a bit hungry. You are an anxious AND caring host and/or hostess and you do not want your guests to have a bad time - but you are not worried. Why? Because you have hired my Miniature Troupe.

There is a lull in the conversation. Suddenly, the enticing strains of a top-quality Mariachi recording are heard, seamlessly communicated via your high-resolution Bose soundsystem. There is a scuffle.  Something is happening at elbow height. "A snack?". You look down. There is a sombrero upon the head of a person of smaller stature. The crown is pushed in a little; in the dent nestles some high-quality salsa. And on the brim - need you ask? - there are gathered tortilla chips of the highest calibre.

Long have I thought that this could be my way out: the passport, as it were, to a life of relaxed entrepreneurialism, conducted from a hammock and/or armchair, with only a telephone, small clay pipe and glass of absinthe for company.

And tonight, finally, it seems this dream could come true: only tonight, I used the Google and typed in "small person in sombrero". And what came up? Why, this: proof, if I needed it, that either a) someone has had the idea already; or b) that there is a definite market (as the marketing johnnies say) for my idea. Either way, I think I am going to do it. Anyone in?

Pipa Pipa!

NWM


* see what I did there?


P.S. Gigantor-sized apologies: have had to put comment moderation on for a bit as am being spammed up the wazoo by some mentalists and it's doing my head in. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I have found them and broken their keyboards with an old rolling pin.

I am really very good at procrastinating

"Procrastination is the thief of time!", they say, shortly after saying "There is no 'I' in 'team'" and shortly before I deck them. They are wrong, of course; procrastination is brilliant and it is good for you.   I have proof from an academic 'type' to prove it, and at some point I will get it and show it to you.

In the meantime, here are the things I am definitely going to do.

... the drawings. The Corndog one will be multi-media. The pathologist will help. (NB the cat will be still be alive after the piece has been created.)

... send the badges. (You know who you are. It is not that I do not love you; it is just that the effort involved in being in the right house when I remember them + finding envelopes with glue that sticks + finding a pen + finding a stamp + going to the post-office + having to justify my small parcel in bad French to a pathologically nosy and bureaucratic postmistress = makes me want to lie down)

... send Dave Shelton who I love the 3 books that I bought for him nearly a year a go and that are sitting in an Amazon box in the hall (see above - problem will be solved if I allow myself to drive, which I refuse to do if there is even 1mm of snow on the ground; particularly problematic if you are in Canada)

... send my brother and his wife their wedding present, which is a bit shit seeing as they got married in October last year (it is really good though - it is a KitchenAid! They will deffo forgive me when it actually arrives)

... find someone to clean the flat (I make no apology for this and stare with cold unrelenting eyes at people who make prissy "can't you clean your own HOME*" faces, their tiny judgmental lips making like a cat-arse)

... take up the remaining sessions of laser hair removal, paid for a year ago and still not finished (I am not afraid, I just keep forgetting - it is quite marvellous and works and works, even on my pelted monkeylegs)

... go to the dentist and get a checkup and a clean and a quote for having them changed from pale yellow (like the piss of a well-hydrated muskrat) to pale, pale cream (like a Canadian with beautiful teeth)

... go to the special dentist and get my preposterous weirdo false tooth (that appears to have been implanted in my jaw with old baler twine, twigs and screws stolen from broken sunglasses), x-rayed again and possibly replaced

... have a Ladycheck, which is quite difficult because: a) I do not have a National Health card thing, because my work permit has run out and with it my health card, although b) even if I did, I haven't got a GP because no-one in Quebec does; and c) I would find one of those "Ladyclinics" and pay cashmoney, except I don't know where to look and thinking about it makes me want to hide

... explain what has been going on the last few months, which I can't (for reasons that will become obvious, but that are not that interesting and do not involve my health, relationships, Sting being impaled on his own lute, etc).

I am going to do the ironing now. With any luck, it will be the last day I do the ironing because I am going to pay someone else to do it. (At some point.)

Pip Pip!

NWM

* they always say "home", these sorts of people, instead of "house" or "flat" or "tent" or "caravan", or whatever it is they live in.

I am going to draw

What would you rather see a drawing of?

1. Corndog's kittens in a bush;
2. Hipsters at a craft fair;
3. Michael Winner on a shoot in 2001.

Let me know. I am feeling 'creative'.

Pip "Starry Starry Night" Pip

NWM