rocketradio

I'd totally be there, but I have a lame excuse

2012-01-26T10:55:00.000-05:00

I have a lot of fabulous, artsy friends. I love them to pieces, but sometimes it's a real challenge to enjoy and support their "creative projects". I get several Facebook invitations each month for weeknight bar gigs, art openings, drag queen pageants, plays and poetry readings, and I'm more than a little ashamed to admit that I usually hit the "Ignore this Invite" button.

And that is why this little bit of funny I found on Failbook made me laugh so fucking hard:

T.G.I.Fun

2012-01-20T12:23:00.003-05:00

Happy Friday everyone! I'm back at work today, although my head and sinuses are not pleased with that decision.

I got some great news from my tech guy - he has managed to rescue the data from my old computer! Yes, I do know that I'm a complete idiot for not backing-up my hard drive... or more accurately, not keeping my back-up UPDATED, but I'm thrilled that I'll be getting my photos and music back! That means I'll be firing up the FOTOROCKET in the near future, where I'll be sharing my best photographs from my Year of Living Bloglessly. The down side is that I have to give up my new laptop for the weekend in order to do a data transfer, so no posts until Monday, folks.

So I'll leave you with a link to a delightful blog called street art utopia - featuring amazing urban environmental artworks from around the world. May your weekend be inspired!

by Pavel Puhov - http://www.183art.ru/

artist unknown


by Sandrine Estrade Boulet - http://www.sandrine-estrade-boulet.com

Blackout Fever

2012-01-19T08:18:00.001-05:00

Rocketradio was blacked out yesterday to protest the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and the Protect Intellectual Property Act (PIPA). In related news, Katrocket has been blacked out on her sofa all week with cough congestion due to cold or flu.

If you've been blogging from a pineapple under the sea and would like to learn more about the potential fuckification of the innerwebz, our good friend the Vegetable Assassin has written an excellent post on the subject. If you're a Canadian who's wondering how this proposed US legislation could affect you, check out this CBC article on the equally frightening Bill C-11, the Copyright Modernization Act.

But for now, let's just take a moment to celebrate the spirit of a free internet by ~~stealing~~ sharing someone's "intellectual property".

Hello! Is it me you're looking for?

2012-01-17T11:57:00.004-05:00

It seems that when I announced my imminent return to Blogland, my trusty desktop computer may have been suffering from Danny Glover Syndrome: it was "too old for this shit".

I regret to inform you that my beloved HP Pavillion desktop died of natural causes last week, taking with it all of my fondest memories -- photos, music, work projects, recipes and porn. So while it lay in state at the computer repair shop, I didn't even wait for the old power supply to go cold. Yeah, I'm heartless that way. I picked out a shiny new 17" HP Pavillion laptop that makes me go "squeee!", and the computer doctor thinks he can rescue my data and transfer it to the new laptop sometime this week.

So it's awesome that I'm finally free of the wires and cables that once tied me down, but I wish I was free to write a decent post for you today. In the meantime, please enjoy this big screen mashup:

Hello from ant1mat3rie on Vimeo.

I don't remember there being this many cats a year ago

2012-01-03T16:55:00.000-05:00

OK - Imma be right with you, but I've got a little refresher reading to do first.

Happy Christmas Wishes!

2011-12-22T14:25:00.000-05:00

Seasonal Salutations, my friends!
Celebrate Brian in your own special way, and I'll catch up with in 2012.

xo Kat Rocket

This is your Rocket speaking

2011-01-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

Hello there ...

After a series of incidents and over a full year away, I was given the keys to the old pad last night and I have officially moved back in.

It's going to take some time to clean up and repaint the place, but while you're waiting, I've restored the entire archive from Rocketradio for your reading enjoyment -- or boredom, depending on how long you've been following me.

I'm travelling for the next few days, but I'll be back next week with new posts, so please add this address back to your blogroll and hang onto your fucking hats.

xo Kat

éste es para los españoles

2009-10-28T23:50:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Toronto. Please watch your step.

2009-09-10T08:10:00.000-04:00

I accidentally got on the wrong streetcar yesterday because I wasn't really paying attention. A minor detour took me a few blocks further south than I wanted to go, but it also gave me this story to post.

A young couple with a tiny baby got on the streetcar in front of the Art Gallery, with a tourist map in hand and looking totally confused. The Husband approached the streetcar driver for directions and was quickly waved away with a brisk grunt, so when they seated themselves in front of me, I asked them if they needed any help.

They happily accepted my offer, so the Husband and I mapped out their route, and he confessed that this was his first visit to Toronto, and remarked that everyone was "much friendlier than in New York". I asked if he was from New York. He was from South Carolina, but the Wife hailed from Utica, NY, and came here often to visit her sister.

They told me how much they loved Toronto, how friendly and helpful our people have been, and how our city was so clean and beautiful. I felt really proud of my city at that moment, even though it smelled like shit. Literally. There was an intense sewage stench in the air and I assumed we had stopped next to a sewer grate, or maybe it was the evildoing of their small infant...

But being the awesome urban ambassador that I am, I pressed on and answered their questions about where to dine, where to find good fashion bargains, and general places of interest. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and by the time we arrived at my stop and I bid them farewell, I was thinking there's no place else in the world I'd want to live. I complain about this place sometimes, and all the jerks I have to share it with, but when you evaluate your surroundings through a stranger's eyes, it can remind you about all the amazing things you should be grateful for.

That's when I discovered the source of the nauseating stench that had plagued our commute. Right next to the exit door, someone had taken a HUGE DUMP on the streetcar floor. A huge HUMAN dump. And the culprit, a smelly and senile old man with a cane, was trying to kick his crap under a seat while everyone around him hissed insults and called up to the driver for assistance.

I felt really bad for the guy because he didn't seem to know what was going on, but there was no way in hell I was gonna stick around. I'd done my good deed for the day, so Mr. Stinky was on his own. I hopped over the pile of dung and headed for the subway, with my contempt for fellow Torontonians fully reinstated.

stick THAT in your box

2009-09-04T10:32:00.000-04:00

It's no small wonder why I get myself fired occasionally. I have a lot of trouble keeping my smartass opinions to myself. Yesterday's example:

BOSS: "I think what we need here is some out-of-the-box thinking. Do you have any ideas?"

ME: "Yes! First of all, you need to stop using lame clichés about thinking outside of boxes when you're asking for innovation and originality from your staff."

The next best thing to pet salvation in a Post Rapture World

2009-09-01T08:30:00.000-04:00

It's a slow news week in the life of Katrocket, so I'd like to share this possibly real / totally hilarious pet rescue website with you.

Eternal Earth-Bound Pets USA

You've committed your life to Jesus. You know you're saved. But when the Rapture comes what's to become of your loving pets who are left behind? Eternal Earth-Bound Pets takes that burden off your mind.

We are a group of dedicated animal lovers, and atheists. Each Eternal Earth-Bound Pet representative is a confirmed atheist, and as such will still be here on Earth after you've received your reward. Our network of animal activists are committed to step in when you step up to Jesus.

Be sure to check out their FAQs page. It's Atheist gold.

see also: JesusPets.com

Journal of a New COBRA Recruit

2009-08-25T08:29:00.000-04:00

Since I've been busy with work, and posting cockshots on my other blog, I'm going to be ~~lazy~~ resourceful and post something that someone else wrote along time ago. Don't get all critical on me - it's not like I'm forcing you to watch this.

reproduced without permission from McSweeney's Internet Tendency:

JOURNAL OF A NEW COBRA RECRUIT
BY KEITH PILLE

May 1, 1986
Man. I'm so excited to graduate this month. It's been a fun few weeks, signing yearbooks and going to beer parties and such, but at the same time I keep feeling worried about what I'm going to do afterwards. I don't have the grades for college. Heck, when I talked to the Army recruiter about becoming a G.I., he said I don't even have the grades to serve my country. I sure don't want to work at the gas station like my brother.

- - - -

May 2, 1986
Today this guy in a blue uniform came up and gave me a pamphlet. Said he was a recruiter for COBRA, an outfit a lot like the army but without all those government regulations to slow down the fun. We talked a little and he said he liked the cut of my jib, thought I'd be great COBRA material.

- - - -

May 15, 1986
Signed up with COBRA today. I got real excited when they said I earned a signing bonus... figured it would be a couple hundred bucks that I could put toward a new bumper for my truck. Nope. Just a t-shirt with a funny-looking snake on the front. And I'm not supposed to wear it in public. Pretty weird stuff, but they seem like nice guys.

I report to COBRA boot camp out in Utah in the middle of June. The recruiter guy said that everyone around there thinks it's where some crazy old Mormon lives with all his wives. I'm not supposed to say anything about it to anyone. I'm supposed to tell Mom and Dad that I'm going off to work for the phone company.

- - - -

June 16, 1986
First day of boot camp was a bear. All of the other boots seem like nice guys. Don't know what any of them look like because the first thing they did when we got here was give us blue helmets with black hankies to cover up our faces. I'm getting pretty good at recognizing people's eyebrows though.

Figured we'd do a lot of exercise today, but we didn't do as much as I thought. Mostly just running out of a door and yelling "COBRA!" at the top of our lungs. I got pretty good at it. Now I can sound awful scary when I yell "COBRA!" You wouldn't think it would wear you down, but boy, am I pooped.

- - - -

June 18, 1986
Boot camp's still a lot of fun. And I'm learning a lot. Today we did more mental learning stuff than exercise. We received a lecture about our main enemy, the G.I. Joe team. Seems that Uncle Sam is so nervous about COBRA that he set up an elite team of soldiers just to try to fight us. I couldn't be more proud. I had no idea I was signing on with a bunch that was this important. I guess the Joes have stopped us at pretty much everything we've ever tried to do. But believe me, is that going to change now that Steve Loring is a member of COBRA!

Sarge said all kinds of funny things about how dumb the G.I. Joe team is. Like, they just have one person who's good at each thing they do. So they just have one guy who can fly a plane, and one guy who knows how to drive a tank, one guy who can fly a helicopter, one guy who can fight in the desert, and so on. They even have a whole aircraft carrier (for their one plane and one helicopter) with just a captain and one sailor to run it! Sarge was like, "What the heck kind of outfit is that?" and we were all just in stitches. Then this one recruit (I think it was Renfro, but I didn't get a good look at his eyebrows) says, "But if they're so dumb, how come they always beat us?"

Sarge made Renfro go out and run around the track and yell "COBRA!" for an hour.

- - - -

June 20, 1986
Real boring day. I was all ready for some more physical training, but instead Sarge led us into a room full of phones and made us cold-call people and ask them if they wanted to switch their long distance to COBRA. During the break, Renfro asked Sarge when we became a long-distance provider. Sarge explained that we had to do something to make money if we were going to afford a private army with hundreds of tanks and planes and a Terrordome, not to mention all the expenses from the Serpentor genetic engineering project. Working the phones was demoralizing, and people were usually pretty mad when we called them, but it felt good to be doing my duty for COBRA. In between calls, I amused myself by thinking of cool one-liners I could say if I ever got the drop on one of those G.I. Joe bums.

- - - -

June 21, 1986
Awful exciting day today. First we got to do our airborne training. They loaded us up into a plane, and we flew up and then jumped out. Our chutes had the big, scary COBRA symbol on them. It was awesome. But it was hard, because we were supposed to keep yelling "COBRA!" all the way down. It was tough to get enough breath to yell right at first. Sarge says it just takes practice.

After that we finally got to do weapons training. About time! They gave me a rifle and pointed at the target. I held the rifle up to my cheek and sighted down the barrel, just like I did when I went deer hunting with Grampa. Boy, did Sarge go apeshit over that! Got in my face and started yelling at me, asking how I expected to scare someone if I just stood there all quiet-like and shot so carefully. Sarge is a great teacher because he doesn't just criticize. He showed the right way to shoot. What you do is you start shooting your gun wildly and run towards the target as fast as you can and, in your scariest voice, you yell "COBRA!" We worked on that all afternoon, and just before we broke for dinner, I actually hit the target! Sarge and everyone else were so happy for me that they were about to cry. Told me I'd just set the record for marksmanship in COBRA boot camp. I wanted to call Mom and tell her the good news, but she thinks I work for the phone company.

- - - -

June 22, 1986
First Payday. No check, just a couple more of those t-shirts. Doughty and me planned to drive into town and sell the shirts for spending money, but Sarge caught wind of our plan, reminding us that we weren't supposed to let anyone see the t-shirts because then they'd know we were in COBRA.

- - - -

June 25, 1986
Tank training today! Wow, it was great! They didn't let us drive the HISS tanks ourselves, but we got to practice riding in the back turret and working the guns. By now we all knew what we were supposed to do without being told, and Sarge said he was so proud at the way we all just yelled "COBRA!" and shot wildly before he even showed us how.

Renfro tried to ruin the day with a whole bunch of his questions. First he asked Sarge why our combat fatigues were sky blue saying we're visible from a mile away at least. Then, when we were practicing with the HISS tanks, Renfro started in on why the HISS driver wasn't protected by anything more than a piece of glass. And for that matter, he continued, why do we run the guns from an open turret with no protection at all? Sarge just about blew up.

I think Renfro's going to be running around the track and yelling "COBRA!" for a long, long time tonight.

stormy weather

2009-08-22T07:14:00.000-04:00

God Bless superfab blogger Cooper Green, for asking if the Skygarden survived the tornado that hit the Greater Toronto Area on Thursday evening.

Yes Cooper! Everything is fine here, and there was no damage to the Skygarden. I did lose a few nasturtium vines, but they are at the end on their blooming cycle and starting to die off anyways, so nature actually did me a small favour by pruning away the scraggly stuff. If anything, the deluge of rain helped a great deal after a week of high temperatures. Two days later, the Skygarden is still blooming strong, and a couple of lovely verbenas (at left) have made an appearance.

The tornadoes (five to seven recorded in total across southwestern Ontario) hit hardest just north of Toronto, in the communities of Vaughan and Woodbridge, where entire neighbourhoods were ripped apart. I certainly felt it here, but the damage was quite minimal - mostly flash flooding and a few branches tossed around the streets.

I got lucky - the winds came in hard from the west, so the plants were well-sheltered. I suffered a lot worse last summer, when a freak hail storm and high winds obliterated my garden in early August '08 and I had to replant every container.

Although the local media is making a huge deal out of Tornadofest '09, they're only doing so because this type of weather so rarely occurs in Southern Ontario. My heart goes out to the hundreds of families who lost their property to this storm, but I still think this was minor compared to the violent weather that residents of the Gulf Coast and southern/midwest U.S. deal with every single year. The last major weather system to destroy Toronto was back in October 1954, when Hurricane Hazel ripped the city apart and killed 81 people. This was nothing like that.

Skygarden: Part 4 - After the Rains

2009-08-15T09:25:00.001-04:00

Thanks to a whole lot of rain a week ago and sunny skies for the past 4 days, the skygarden has finally evolved into the gallery of colour I was hoping for. The garden faces due south, but still enjoys all the perks of an eastern sunrise, so the balcony is lush and bursting in spite of continuing skirmishes with aphids.

We had a wicked lightning storm last Sunday - I've never seen so much lightning over the city during my 20 years of living in downtown Toronto. Like an idiot, I sat in the skygarden with a cocktail and no common sense and took 50 snapshots with my "crappy camera" because my "good camera" had dead batteries. Only one photo turned out, and it's not spectacular, but you get the idea.

Some interesting surprises turned up this week, including the return of lobelia and delphinium that reseeded from last year's garden. I've also got mystery petunias everywhere - they joined the party last week because I can only assume they had a really good time here last summer. They always come back for the free refills.

My favourites so far are the black pansies, which I've been waiting for all summer long. This variety has been hard to find in my location, and I just think they look really cool, so another big thanks to blogger James from Heavy: Lift With Caution for sending me a stellar selection of seeds from his own stash. In fact, half the skygarden came from an envelope from Denver, and the poor guy has suffered a summer of bad storms and uncooperative weather conditions in his own garden. Good news, James - your legacy is thriving north of 49.

Squirrel is the new Ham

2009-08-14T06:30:00.000-04:00

HEADLINE: Squirrel is surprise star of holiday photo

This photo is quite hilarious, but I don't know why everyone is so surprised. Squirrels (and their sporty chipmunk cousins) are the most skilled photo crashers in the animal kingdom.

Oh, they make it look like a cute little accident, but I think I know a thing or two about squirrels messing with your shot:

At least my heart is still racing

2009-08-13T13:42:00.000-04:00

I've been down all week, kids. My dream of watching Schumi race again next weekend is now shattered and sitting in the dreamcycling bin, along with my Daniel Craig wedding speech and my Learn to Play Guitar and Get Laid instructional booklets.

So it turns out that Michael Schumacher's exciting return to Formula 1 is no longer in the cards, because he's not sufficiently recovered from neck and head fractures he sustained from a motorcycle accident back in February. Negotiating high-speed corners puts a lot of force on the driver's neck, and he was in too much pain to continue. Our saviour is not coming. He's not even breathing heavy.

Lucky for me, Michael cares about my sadness and pain so much, that he took a few minutes out of his show schedule to cheer me up with an e-mail:

From: Michael Schumacher
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Wednesday, August 12, 2009 11:31:42 PM
Subject: Mime For You Sweet Kat

Hey Fraulein Rocket,

Ich habe heard about your hot Aass and ich think ich am in liebe mit you. Ich dream about your creamy weisse thighs and licking them mit meine tongue. Ich habe made ein mime fur you to show meine liebe fur you. Ich habe made a photo fur you.

Also ich habe ein rock hard chubby fur you meine liebschen. Do you wish to komme to all of my races and sex me up before ich race? Ich know thet I want to bend you over meine hood und rammen sie mit meine grosse gepenis.

Ich liebe dich, sweet heart. Und DU liebst DICK.

Yours forever your sehr hard Michael. XXXX

PS No more loving of das Bond fukker, du bist MEINE.
---------------------------------------------------

I love you "achtung_losers"! You know it, baby. You always make me smile when I need it most.

I'm so excited (and I just can't hide it)

2009-07-30T05:57:00.000-04:00

If you've been reading Rocketradio for a long time, you might already know that I am a die-hard Formula One enthusiast. I'm a Tifoso (Ferrari fan), and I've been getting up wicked early on Sundays for years to watch races all over the world. I spend more time on Planet F1 than I spend on planet Earth. If I thought it would interest anyone but me, I'd dedicate half the space on this blog to my obsession with racing, but no, I'm thinking of YOU, gorgeous friends. Because I don't read your boring posts about football and basketball, so I know how you would feel about that.

I'm making an exception on this day because there was a sensational development yesterday that ROCKED MY WORLD. I'll try to keep it brief, so please stick with me.

MICHAEL SCHUMACHER IS RETURNING TO FERRARI!

To put it in perspective for you, this is the equivalent of Wayne Gretzky coming out of retirement to play hockey, or Michael Jordan going back to the Bulls. You know, if they weren't all old and stuff.

Schumacher holds a record seven World Championship titles, won more races than ANY driver in all of motorsport, and was at one time the highest-paid athlete in the world. He retired from racing in 2006, and ever since then, F1 has been a real drag. Scuderia Ferrari are no longer the powerhouse team they once were, and the sport itself has been plagued by scandals and stupid politics for the past two years. Formula One was sucking hard, and I was losing interest.

But last weekend, during the Saturday qualifying session for the Hungarian Grand Prix, something terrible happened that changed the course of motorsport history: current Ferrari driver Felipe Massa was severely injured in a freak accident. He was hit in the head by some flying debris from Barrichello's Brawn GP car - a rare occurrence which resulted in a massive blow to his helmet, a skull fracture, and a critical injury to his right eye. Felipe underwent life-saving surgery hours later and he is expected to recover, although his future as an F1 driver is unknown. This left Ferrari scrambling for a replacement driver to finish out the remainder of the season.

Schumacher himself has said "no thanks, I'm done" a thousand times, but in the end, his loyalty to his former team, (and his friendship with Felipe Massa) brought about a huge change of heart. He will get behind the wheel of Massa's F60 for the European Grand Prix in Valencia, Spain on August 23rd!

If I believed in heaven, I would have died and gone there already.

I'm trying to keep my expectations in check, but it's soooo hard. After all, Schumi is the Real Stig:

Skygarden: Part III

2009-07-29T07:01:00.000-04:00

It's been a wet summer, but the Skygarden is taking it pretty well. And note the complete absence of raccoons... high-rise living has its benefits:

Not a bad place to enjoy a few cocktails.

What are you waiting for?

Good times are standing by....

The Secret Perils of Unitards

2009-07-28T16:37:00.000-04:00

I've never had much interest in competitive swimming. Dead boring stuff.

But yesterday, at some big-deal swimming thingy in Rome.... what's this now?! Verrry dare-odynamic!

Apparently U.S. swimmer Ricky Berens tore out the ass of his swimtard during a pre-race stretch.

As if that swimsuit wasn't gay enough already.

An Office Lunch Tip from Rocketradio

2009-07-22T15:54:00.000-04:00

Office Lunch Tip: You are more than welcome to dump that can of CHUNKY Beef & Potato soup into a bowl and heat it up in the office microwave, but you should probably know that once that smell hits the air at 1min,10sec, everyone within a 50 foot radius of that microwave thinks you're eating dog food for lunch.

Bonus Lunch Tip: If you get Donovan McNabb to heat up that can of soup for you, everyone in the office will be too busy checking out his awesome chapeau to make silly judgments about how you eat dog food for lunch.

Bonus Non-Lunch Tip: For those of you who are wondering what it's like to spend the night with Katrocket, The Imaginary Reviewer tells all!

Rock-rolling

2009-07-22T08:11:00.000-04:00

Be sure to watch the whole clip before you sit there in judgment of me, pretending to be too cool to enjoy the living hell outta this:

Big thanks to the elusive Mr. Radloff for the link.

More ThriftShopXL mash-ups here! These dudes are fucking righteous.

All-Nude Review!

2009-07-21T06:51:00.000-04:00

Okay - not the kind of all-nude review you were hoping for, but it got you over here pretty fast I bet.

It's not a total lie. I wrote this entire review in the nude.

Raccoon Gang Warfare Continues: Spent last Saturday at the Beeverdeck again, fending off critter assaults from all sides. One particular mother raccoon and her family of four juvenile bandits kept insisting on joining us for dinner, but we were having none of it. Beever has made vast advances in the field of Critter Artillery with her patented "Busted Up Tiki Torch Pole". Please note: some raccoon gang members actually enjoy playing with the business end of a busted up tiki torch pole, and may invite more of their friends to come around for games night.

How I Met The Imaginary Reviewer: It's true, I finally got a peek behind the question mark sack! Mr. Imaginary Reviewer is not only devastatingly handsome and intellectually brilliant, but he's even funnier in real life. And he proved himself a local hero by joining the Beevers and myself on the front lines at the Battle of Beeverdeck. Armed only with a spear of asparagus and dry British humour, he put those raccoons back in their place: mocking us from the other side of the fence.

Transit Lessons Learned from the Homeless: Yesterday I was on the subway train to work and the car was really crowded - no seats to be had. That all changed when a homeless guy got on the train at Bloor station, muttering things to himself and then suddenly yelling loudly and taking a swipe at the invisible forces around him. Then like Moses parting the Red Sea, the crowd gently retreated further and further away from him, leaving their seats empty, and providing ample swiping room for his formidable presence. He got a seat (well, three seats actually) and nobody dared challenge him on it.

I've decided I'm totally going to try this someday.

Beever, 1; Raccoon, 0

2009-07-15T07:54:00.000-04:00

Last weekend, I was minding my own business, enjoying a late afternoon cocktail at the Beeverdeck of Lesbieville, when I fell victim to an attempted robbery.

I had left my purse unattended next to my chair for less than a minute while I went back into the house to refresh my Rumonade (my fancy epicurist term for rum and lemonade). I didn't think it was a big deal, because the Beeverdeck has always been a secure and private fortress for drunk-minded individuals. One can only access its discreet rooftop location from the front door of the Beever Glitter Palace, which is heavily guarded by the smoking riff-raff hanging out in front of the landromat next door.

Then I heard Beever outside yelling at someone on the deck, making large noises and screaming "get outta here!" I went to see what the commotion was, and discovered that Beever had thwarted a robbery in progress! A renegade raccoon was digging through my purse and attempting to make off with my wallet, keys, and cell phone.

The rebel raccoon gangs of Lesbieville are well known to the locals for their sneaky, phone-snatching ways and their fierce courage in the shrieking face of humanity. They have always been cheeky little buggers, but their numbers have rapidly increased since the city workers went on strike three weeks ago and all garbage collection was ceased. The urban critters we have learned to co-exist with have broken an unwritten pact to carry out their home invasions after dark. Fortified by protein-rich garbage feasts, they've gotten all ballsy and taken back their land, along with many of the cherished human possessions that lie within it.

But not this little masked fucker. Little did he know of my strong alliance with the Beevers. They are the first line of Kat defense, and if you do somehow manage to get past them, you'll have the Dastardly Squirrel and his fearsome Squirrel Army to reckon with:

So let this be a lesson to all you daredevil ringtailed rat bandits out there: do not mess with the Beevers and Kats, or so help me god, we will blog the hell outta you.

"You gotta work with me on this."

2009-07-14T17:31:00.000-04:00

I wasn't sure if I should post this on Fire That Agency! or here on my own blog. I suppose I really should post something on FTA this year, but BeckEye and Skyler's Dad have been doing such an awesome job on that blog, that I've developed a little performance anxiety. So I decided to post it here because it actually goes well beyond the scope of advertising agencies.

This is a must-see clip for any of you out there who work your asses off in the creative services industries - especially my friends who are self-employed, freelancers, artists, photographers, printers, web or print designers, etc. Unfortunately for us, we deal with bullshit like this all the time from our clients:

http://www.vendorclientvideo.com

Produced by Scofield Editorial, Inc.

post haste

2009-07-14T07:17:00.000-04:00

Remember last week when I said I was going to set aside 45 minutes every morning to write a post for all you wonderful folks out there in Blogland?

Yeah, those were good times.

rock yer socks off

2009-07-10T05:27:00.000-04:00

Thank you Lulu LaBonne.

Your new header image with the sexy sock guys makes my day every time I see it. The chap reclining down front reminds me of a young Tony Spunk. And the Bald Bearded Ginger? How the hell did he book that gig? Just look at his body language - seems he's wondering that himself.

I love all of your illustrations, but in my opinion, this is some of your finest work.

My friends, if you haven't tried Earwing Sandwich yet, it's a lot tastier than it sounds on the menu.

have a fabulous weekend... Rocketradio will be undergoing a series of makeovers during the next couple of days - just trying on some new outfits to see which ones make my ass look good.

ask and ye shall receive

2009-07-09T07:27:00.000-04:00

Can you believe this shit, people? FOUR posts in one week and it's only Thursday. That's gotta be a personal best of some kind. And who the hell puts the word "ye" in their post titles? Think of it as a small tribute to our dearly missed Pistols At Dawn.

Well, many of my readers (okay, 2 of you) have complained that I don't post often enough, so you asked for it: I'm setting aside 45 minutes every morning before work to dazzle you with mundane life experiences.

I experienced another money miracle yesterday! Some of you may recall the story I told back in April when spare change changed my life. Times are tough for all us, especially those of us who really suck at budgeting.

I was in a mad panic yesterday because I found myself unexpectedly dead broke again, thanks to a series of unfortunate incidents (massive rent increase, shocking dental bill, premium mascara purchase). Payday is six days away, and I might suck at math, but I'm smart enough to realize that $14.87 is not enough cash flow to survive in this city for a week.

I managed to borrow $25 from my generous BFF, who is also cash-strapped at the moment, but is the kind of awesome guy who would share his last fifty bucks with me, (which he did). I used to live off $35 a week back in college, so I was totally prepared to live out the next week like a resourceful college girl, minus the freaktastic casual sex and binge drinking. Or WITH the sex and drinking, if I could swing it.

Still, walking home 6 miles from my BFF's last night (because I couldn't afford the bus), my heart was heavy with worry, and I had resigned myself to a week of Kraft Dinner and self-imposed house arrest while I waited out the storm. I was on the edge of weepy, because I started thinking about my mom. When she was alive and I was just starting out in the world, she would quietly slip a few bucks into my hand just when I needed it most. Our little secret. No words were ever spoken, and I never told her how bad things were, she just always knew. She would wink and smile and recite our inside joke: "now go buy yourself a pretty frock", which was funny to us because I'm not exactly a frock buyin' gal.

That's when the song "Money" by The Flying Lizards shuffled up on my iPod, and I had to laugh because I had no idea that iPods could read your mind. I realized I was walking down my street and crying - that mixed-up laughing/crying that happens when you really miss your mom and you don't know what the fuck else to do.

That song was still playing when I went to my mailbox and found a major surprise: a $100 tax rebate cheque from the Government of Canada. I had no idea I was eligible for any tax rebate, and the timing absolutely blew me away. I know in my head that it was an amazing coincidence of epic proportions, but I still stared long and hard at that cheque and thanked my mom.

Hot Beauty Tip for Girls and Glamberts!

2009-07-08T08:03:00.000-04:00

I don't normally endorse products on this blog, (unless it's the most awesome thing ever, like slamtastic buckles and baubles from BBJ.ca!!) but I am blown away by this new mascara I purchased over the weekend and I just had to share it with all you gorgeous Rocketbabes, Glamberts and fashion-forward Emodudes.

Cover Girl's Exact Eyelights mascara is tinted with color to enhance the hue of your eyes and make them "brighter". I was quite skeptical at first, because their spokesmodel is Rihanna, and let's face it, her eyes always look severely Photoshopped, even on TV.

Anyways, I purchased "Black Ruby", the one that claims to perk up green eyes, and WOW! Check it out! For demonstration purposes, I only applied the mascara to one eye so you can see the amazing difference it makes!

Can YOU guess which eye has been Eyelighted?

PMS confessions

2009-07-06T18:44:00.000-04:00

-- I purchased some ice cream specifically for my visiting niece and nephew, ate it all myself before they could get through customs, then blamed Air France and British Airways for failing to provide speedy transAtlantic Concorde flights to sad little French children who were promised ice cream.

-- A young tourist couple stopped me and asked if I would take a photo of them with their own camera while they groped each other in front of our most famous landmark. I have always dreamed that this situation would some day present itself so I could bolt away with a fabulous new camera, but it was a shitty camera, so while they were grinning like idiots, I zoomed right in on the guy's crotch and snapped a pic of his cock.

-- Upon receiving extremely unsatisfactory customer service from a surly local shopkeepstress, I may have accidentally said to her "Thanks for nothing, you fucking cunt", when I really meant to say "Thanks for your time and have a nice day, you fucking cunt."

skygarden update

2009-07-05T19:16:00.000-04:00

The weather has been a bit cool and rainy for the past six weeks since I planted my garden, but even an aphid invasion can't stop the skygarden.

Thanks in part to a seed exchange with Colorado's second hottest blogger (Skyler's Dad is #1), James from Heavy:Lift with Caution, I've introduced some beautiful new exhibits to the flower gallery this year. It's by far the most diverse garden I've ever grown, and it should fill out nicely in a month or so. Until then, here's some macro shots of the season's first blooms:

[click on the slideshow image for flower name/details]

Created with flickr slideshow.

cougar alert

2009-06-17T20:12:00.000-04:00

So I was watching the CBC evening news and I can't believe Wendy Mesley kept a straight face when she read this headline:

Cougars are on the prowl and attacking a small BC community!

The word "cougar" no longer makes me think of big wild cats who can seriously harm and/or kill humans. It now conjures up 40-something cleavage and pitchers of margaritas, so of course I was thinking: Wow. The young men of British Columbia are gettin' lucky tonight!

I laughed at the headline, but it wasn't funny news at all. A little girl was picking berries with her mom in the woods near her house, and surprise! ... she comes face to face with a cougar. Her mom fights off the cat, and her kid escapes with some cuts and bruises.

So it's a happy ending!

No, not that kind of happy ending.

Especially not for the poor cougar, and the cougar's buddies, who were tracked and shot dead by conservation officers, which is irony, not slang. The officers weren't conserving wildlife, they were destroying it in order to conserve urban sprawl.

This was supposed to be a post about the downside of slanguage, so I'm not gonna get into how pissed off I am at people who build their homes where wildlife lives and then go apeshit when the wildlife keeps showing up in their backyards. Suck it up and put on a bear suit, people, because the cougars want you off their lawn.

(No, not this kind of bear suit.)

buy an angel

2009-06-11T07:19:00.000-04:00

Last night I was waiting for the King streetcar right in the heart of the theatre district after all the shows were let out. It was a nice evening, so the streets were packed with theatre-goers, club kids and senior bus tour groups.

A homeless man was sitting on the sidewalk about 6 feet away from the transit stop, selling little angel figurines he had carved from soap bars. He had about 15 of them neatly displayed on top of a large box, with a makeshift sign that said "ANGELS $5 EACH", and he continuously chanted his sales pitch like a meditation mantra: "Buy an angel? Buy an angel? Buy an angel?"

It made me pray that someone would buy an angel just to shut him up. That was when three young women barely dressed in their skanky, shiny clubbing outfits approached the homeless man, and I thought perhaps the soap angels had answered my prayer.

CLUB SLUT #1: OH MY GOD! These are sooooo cute!

HOMELESS GUY: Buy an angel?

CLUB SLUT #2: Did you make these yourself?

HOMELESS GUY: Yes I did, miss. Buy an angel? Only 5 dollars. Hand carved!

CLUB SLUT #1: [Picks up a figurine to examine it closer, then makes the "eeeew!" face] Eeeeeew! What's that smell?! Smell it! [shoves angel in her friend's face]

CLUB SLUT #3: Eeeeew! It smells like soap or something!

HOMELESS GUY: I carve them from a bar of soap. Ivory soap. Very pure.

CLUB SLUT # 1: Do you have any angels that don't smell like soap?

Sadly, the homeless man did NOT have any soap angels that did not smell like soap, so he lost the sale. The three skanks continued down the street, laughing loudly, while the homeless man gave them the finger and continued his chanting without missing a beat. "Buy an angel?"

I didn't want to buy an angel out of pity, but the look of shame and disappointment on the man's face when those girls walked away was heartbreaking. So I gave the guy ten dollars and told him he could keep his 2 angels and sell them to someone else to make more money. He blessed me a whole lot, called ME an angel, and firmly insisted that I take a figurine with me.

It's now sitting on my desk beside my monitor. And my whole fucking apartment smells like Ivory soap.

a-ha ha ha ha ha ha!

2009-06-05T07:05:00.000-04:00

At the end of this month, I'll be travelling east to stay with the Bellevillains for the weekend. It's my friend's 40th birthday and he's throwing a huge blowout '80s party', and he has asked his guests to dress appropriately for the occasion.

So this weekend, I'll be travelling back 2 decades to my local thrift store to rustle up something neon or shoulder-padded. I'm quietly praying I'll find something more formal and sequined and feathered (see pic at left) so I can dress up as Alexis Carrington, but that might be aiming too high. Truth be told, I'm really just looking for a valid excuse to bitchslap the other guests and toss them into the pool.

I hope you don't mind indulging my retro mood with this awesome literal video from Dusto McNeato. Please excuse the idiot host at the beginning and end of the clip - but this is the only clip I could find of this hilarious classic.

More awesome 80s literal videos:

Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse of the Heart

Tears For Fears - Head Over Heels

They Might Be Giants - Birdhouse In Your Soul

Thanks to the Beevers for the links.

Enjoy a pipewrench-free weekend!

License to Chill

2009-06-03T06:52:00.000-04:00

My good friend The Vegetable Assassin knows exactly what turns me on: sucking on things that look like Daniel Craig. She generously sent me this photo of Del Monte's new Bondsicle:

via theFrisky.com: "Food company Del Monte asked more than 1,000 British women to vote on which celebrity they think is the coolest and worthy of being stuck on a stick. Daniel Craig got the most votes, and from today until June 7, limited edition Daniel Craig-shaped popsicles are being sold in England. It’s a shame they aren’t available on this side of the pond, because lord knows we’d like to put Daniel Craig in our mouths."

I couldn't agree more, although I think they could have done a better job on creating the mold for this product, because the likeness is rather hideous. And what the hell is happnin' down below there, Del Monte? Looks like you stuffed the best part(s) into a fern planter and thought "oh, let's be clever and make it look like pockets!" FAIL!

But all creative critiquing aside, I certainly wouldn't protest if any of my British readers were to pack a dozen of these charmers into some dry ice and rush ship them to the Kathaus.

Rainbow Porn

2009-06-02T07:30:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, it was a dull and rainy afternoon in Toronto. I was indoors playing video games with The Silent Crusader, when suddenly there was a break in the clouds and I noticed the intense light reflecting off a building nearby. It looked really cool, so I paused the game and went out on my balcony to take a photo. Then my friend looked toward the east and pointed out the most magnificent and intense rainbow we've seen in years:

And the winner is....

2009-06-01T07:15:00.000-04:00

Yesterday afternoon, our esteemed buckle jury gathered at the Kathaus to choose a contest winner. The Beevers were there to represent fabulous contest sponsor BBJ , joined by Crystal Visions (Toronto's own Stevie Nicks), Ryan from Food, Booze and Beyond, and Chief Rocket Scientician The Silent Crusader.

Well, the judging panel may have been distracted by too much sangria and raging high school dance flashbacks (courtesy of VH1's 100 One Hit Wonders of the 80's), but after a lengthy debate - we have picked a winner.

Congratulations to tennyson ee hemingway from andy warhol goes shopping!
You will be the first and only Australian to own an Original BBJ Beaver Buckle!

Not only did mr. hemingway's entry intrigue us, but he was the only blogger to submit TWO entries, just in case I didn't receive the first entry. You can't buy that measure of enthusiasm nowadays. It's a good thing too - his first entry was mostly a lot of shameless begging, which we LOVE, but it wasn't as creative as his follow-up attempt. It was the second entry that won our hearts:

What would I do for that belt buckle?
Well, I'd wear it 24/7 for a whole year, take pictures of me wearing it everyday and email them to you.
How's that for commitment?

I am in favour of any commitment that doesn't require me to do anything. And yes, I said that we wouldn't actually force anyone to make good on their promises, but we'd like to reconsider that now. Tennyson, we don't expect you to wear it 24/7 and take a picture every day, but we do want some photos! Details to follow, lucky boy...

--------------------------------------------------------

It was a very tough decision, so we have a surprise BBJ gift for our runner-up, and a few thanks for our beautiful losers:

THE RUNNER UP:
The Imaginary Reviewer, who was alleged to be under the influence of Pinot Grigio while penning his submission:

In order to win the beaver buckle I would come and meet you in person, saving the cost of postage. I would also then write an Imaginary Review of our meeting, and make it really impressive, even if I was disappointed. But I probably wouldn't be, of course. But nobody would know if I was.

IR: That's hilarious, and you had us at "saving the cost of postage". We'd love to meet you, and maybe add a dash of pop-style to your upcoming nuptials with a pair of BBJ cufflinks! I'll be in touch soon with more details.

--------------------------------------------------------

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

We love Skyler's Dad! We're just a little uneasy about loving his ass, but I'll cook up something awesome for you in the near future, my friend:

Not to one-up Mt Tennyson, but I would put it on and ass-scan myself on the old scanner.

And post it.

Yeahhhhh, post it. That's right...

--------------------------------------------------------

A submission from a Mr. S. - possibly a blogger, but I'm not sure because I didn't recognize his name. An "A" for effort, sir, but I couldn't get behind the concept of "bag balm":

In order to win this lovely belt buckle, I would trudge across the tundra, mile after mile…or at least walk down to the corner, in search of the Beever Brothel. Once I’ve confirmed that these beavers are the beavers I am looking for, I’d negotiate a deal to polish their tails. Polishing the elusive Beever tail requires patience…and a generous portion of bag balm. This act can be tricky at times, especially with the friskier Beevers. I have found over the years of Beever polishing, that a little tongue behind the ear calms the little rascals down, making the polishing more enjoyable for both partners. I will also need an extraordinary amount of cigars as well, for after a good Beever polishing, I like to kickback and enjoy a fine cigar. After hours, possibly even days of Beever polishing, I’d choose the shiniest of them all and offer her a job…modeling for belt buckles. I know that my proposal is a win for me either way, but think how nice I would look polishing Beevers wearing the polished Beever Belt Buckle with my assless chaps. Thank you for your consideration.

--------------------------------------------------------

As always, gorgeous ass-flower model and fine jewelry designer WendyB has got game!:

The question is: what WOULDN'T I do for a beaver buckle?

Wendy is a classy lady (classy with a "c", not a "k"), so there's probably a loooong list of things she wouldn't do, but that's cool -- it's the thought that counts!

--------------------------------------------------------

A truly interesting Beaver cult proposal, from charming Eric the Bored Neoclassical Guy. A terrific offer wrapped up in some slightly dodgy grammar:

I love your beaver item so much, I would craft a fine marble mosaic of
it, then build a marble temple with columns around it, then create a
pantheon of deities and the inevitable following religion of which I
would be the high priest for thousands of years to worship it.

---------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to everyone for playing!

... and now that I'm finally settled into my new job, and my work hours aren't as long, I look forward to spending a little more time with you all in the coming weeks.

Buckle Up!

2009-05-29T07:23:00.000-04:00

Today is the day -- last call for anyone who wants to win a BBJ buckle, and I'm extending the deadline until Saturday May 30.

Entry response has been unexpectedly low. Did I make the contest too difficult, or does no one want this fabulous prize?

I'm disappointed, my friends, but maybe you're too busy? Or maybe I've lost all my readers because I never blog anymore? Is America suffering from a post-Glambert funk? Has the blog world grown tired of free stuff?

Maybe I had you all wrong. Maybe you're not willing to do anything for a Beaver buckle?

NO. I refuse to believe that.

So I'll make it easier for you: if you'd like your name in the draw, leave a comment in the thread or send your e-mail address to katrocket@rogers.com . A Winner will be chosen on Sunday... although at this point, I'm thinking about keeping it for myself...

WIN THIS BEAVER!

2009-05-21T07:11:00.000-04:00

Many of you gorgeous people (okay, three people actually) have kindly requested that I get back to blogging again pronto, and all I can say is that my new job is kinda getting in the way right now. The days are long, but the rewards are great - so far I'm loving my new workplace and colleagues, and I think they might have a crush on me too.

But enough of my excuses - it's contest time!

Other blogs host many contests, but ask yourself this: what do you really win? A link and shout out? A badge for your sidebar? A smoke and a pancake? The satisfaction of knowing that strangers think you're awesome? Yeah, I guess that's all pretty nice stuff, but Miss Rocket thinks you deserve better. I think you deserve something seriously fucking cool in your mailbox.

BEHOLD! This week I'm giving away this Limited Edition Original BBJ Belt Buckle! This buckle is one-of-a-kind, handmade by The Beevers in classic unisex black for all the sexy boys and girls.

HOW TO WIN:

1. Simply answer this skill-testing question: What would you do for this beaver buckle?

2. Your answer can be submitted in ANY format you desire, but here's a few ideas for ya: a drawing, a photo, a video, a poem (haiku, 8-words, sonnet, free verse, whatever), just a sentence or two, a short story (seriously short: 100 word maximum), a song -- anything that can be e-mailed, but otherwise no limits.

3. No - you won't really be required to do the thing you say you'll do for a beaver buckle, so you can let your sick little minds run wild if ya want, but please keep it above the buckle, okay? Rocketradio does not condone murderous rampages, looting sprees, or any other kind of criminal behaviour.

4. Winning entry will be judged on originality, creativity and humour. Artistic talent is not a requirement! All entries will be judged by a panel consisting of Katrocket and The Beevers (and who ever else is drinking with them that night).

5. E-mail your entry to katrocket@rogers.com with the subject line "Gimme Beaver!" All file formats are accepted.

Deadline: Friday, May 29th, 2009 at 5pm. Entries will be judged over the weekend and announced here on May 31, 2009. All entries will also be posted on Rocketradio for the collective pleasure of others, so by entering this contest, you are also consenting to your entry being posted on this blog.

CONTEST RULES:

1) You must not harm your children or pets.
2) You must not send me pictures or stories of your children or pets.
3) You must be willing to provide a shipping address if you win the contest.

So bust out the crayons, kids! You're all brilliantly creative souls out there, so this will be a tough contest. GAME ON.

OMG! it's GM at FTA!

2009-05-19T19:00:00.000-04:00

It seems like only months ago I was bestowed with an illustruous Drysdale Award for Lifetime Achievement in the Field of Promoting Grant Miller Media. I do it all for the love, people - not the glory - though I've never been one to shun a little glory when it comes my way.

I know it's been a disappointing year so far, what with my general lack of blogging about anything, but that all changes today, my friends.

Do yourself a big comedy favour and check out Grant Miller's recent post on Fire That Agency! It's our first boycott, so I do hope you will join us for some light refreshments and polite rage.

Take this job and love it

2009-05-05T20:00:00.000-04:00

I'd like to thank all of you sexy people for your kind wishes and all that tasty luck you sent my way. It totally worked!

Yesterday's interview went really well, and this afternoon I was offered the job! Starting on Monday, I'm returning to the publishing world as a production manager for a new commercial photography agency.

If you've just recently joined us here at Rocketradio, let it be known that my career path over the past two years has been rather dodgy. That's the nicest way I can put it without swearing a whole lot. But this new gig is a dream come true for me -- getting paid well to collaborate on amazing creative projects with photographers and artists.

So on this lucky Cinco de Mayo, here's a round on me:

Staycation and the Skygarden

2009-05-04T06:55:00.000-04:00

Sorry I've been absent lately, but I've been on a surprise staycation for the past couple of weeks - the kind of stay-at-home vacation that poor people often get to take when they become suddenly unemployed.

I lost my job about 10 days ago, but save your pity for the fools my friends, because it was a job I was quite happy to leave behind. I'm pretty good at getting myself fired from really crappy jobs and then somehow landing a much crappier job. When opportunity closes a door on me, I usually walk around back and kick in a basement window. This method always ends very badly, so I'm trying a new approach.

I did not shed a single tear or take a few days to regroup. I got myself a haircut, a new frock, and made a single phone call to a former colleague. I have an interview this afternoon with a brand new company run by some people I've worked with in the past and really want to work with again, so wish me luck.

I've tried to stay off the internet and do some constructive things around the Kathaus, instead of just drinking and losing myself in the Playstation for days at a time. Okay, yeah - I did that all weekend - but I spent last week doing lots of spring cleaning and refinishing some recently acquired used furniture. I also prepared the fabulous urban Skygarden for planting...

This is last summer's garden, taken just days before it was completely obliterated by a freak hailstorm. I'm learning from my past mistakes: no more stupid petunias. I need plants that thrive in lots of sun, but petunias can't stand up to the high winds I get in this location.

This will be my very first attempt at recycling an entire garden from seeds and bulbs I've been saving all year, instead of using those expensive greenhouse-grown seedlings from the garden centre. I'm usually too lazy to consider this a viable option, but what can I say? I'm getting into the recession spirit!

Oh, I haven't forgotten about the BBJ buckle contest - it's coming next week, after I sort out this job business...

In the meantime, Tawny the Testcard Girl has asked for some extra hours to help support her chronic hairspray addiction during these tough economic times, so please make her feel welcome. Turkeyboy has also been harrassing me for part-time work, but he needs to get over his Seasonal Inaffectiveness Disorder before I can take him seriously.

Post # 333: Halfway to Hell

2009-04-21T14:20:00.000-04:00

Today's post is the 333rd installment of Rocketradio, and I was rather proud of my half-devil milestone until I realized that I've been blogging for almost four years. You see? This is why I hate math so much. It can quickly turn a special day into mediocre crap.

So in keeping with today's theme of stuff that's evil and/or comes in halves, let's take a look back at my Top 3 Favourite Evil & Half-arsed Posts of All Time. To qualify for this list, each post had to be:

a) at least 50% evil,
b) written quickly, with less than 50% effort,
c) a old favourite (based on Google & Statcounter traffic analysis)

1. Are single girls just too picky? : My needs are simple. I really don't expect very much from a man, but apparently most women do, because the title of this post has been the most popular search term on Rocketradio for over a year.

2. Laundrospat : It took 40 seconds to write this in the heat of anger, and it might be one of the rudest posts I've ever published (it's hard to say - they're all a little bit cunty/little bit rock n roll). It's gross, offensive, shocking... but you must have loved it, because it got a lot of comments.

3. Hosting a fancy summer BBQ? : One sentence + one photo = my most viewed post. I must give full credit to the watermelon.

Happy 4/20!

2009-04-20T10:44:00.000-04:00

Why?

Because April 20 is the 110th day of the year (111th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar, and there are 255 days remaining until the end of the year.

Or something like that.

Come on over! I'm makin' brownies!

If you love Beaver like I love Beever....

2009-04-17T07:05:00.000-04:00

...then get that fine bum of yours over to Beever Living!

Trixie + Beever of BBJ, the fabulous glitterwhores who brought you the awesome Beaver Buckle, have just joined the ranks of Blogger, so please be a good neighbour and bring 'em some sugar.

And because y'all love beaver so much, I'll be teaming up with Barbie's Basement Jewellery (BBJ.ca) next week to offer Rocketreaders a chance to WIN a Limited Edition Black Beaver Buckle prize pack!

Here's a few more interesting blogs to consider:

Food, Booze & Beyond by Ryan Jennings: Ryan is another personal friend of mine who loves to drink and somehow figured out a way to make a living out of it. He's the author of two cookbooks (Cooking With Booze and Entertaining With Booze), and he's got great tips for impressing your friends with culinary and cocktail magic. It's part food blog, part drunk-dial. LOVE him.

Earwig Sandwich by Lulu LaBonne: Lulu is the coolest. She is part of a delightful crew of British filmmakers living in France, making documentaries about insects. When she's not refrigerating ants and wrangling bees, she has plenty of hilarious stories about the French locals, complete with awesome illustrations.

Mr. London Street: I mentioned this Britwit a couple of days ago, so if you didn't get the hint before, you're missing out. Don't let his axe-murderer good looks fool you - this man is wicked funny.

The Idea of Progress is back! After a cross-country move and a long hibernation, our old friend Mr. Progress has come out of semi-retirement with a revamped blog.

Andy Warhol Goes Shopping by Tennyson ee Henningway: I've been needing a new Australian blogger on the Roll ever since The Southern Belle packed it in, and Tenny's the man. If you're not into Andy Warhol, that's cool, because I haven't seen a single post that mentions him. If you ARE into Andy Warhol, well - take heart. Dude named his blog after the guy.

Baking With Plath: Hot AND hilarious is a lethal combination. If she wasn't such a damn talented writer, I'd probably be plotting to destroy her. There can be only one.

Phronk.com: A nice balance of funny and deep from London (the one in Ontario, Canada). I especially enjoy his collection of doodles featuring food with moustaches.

Bored Neoclassical Guy: Not to be confused with a boring Neoclassical guy, Eric is an Italian Master trapped in the body of a Texan venture capitalist. He creates beautiful works of art using authentic materials and processes from ancient times. This is actually quite rare on the art scene, and well-worth a look.

Loungin' Around With Tony Spunk: Tony Spunk is a Las Vegas lounge singer and a crazy slut -- a crazy slut who deserves your love. Step off, ladies - he's mine.

This concludes today's blog suggestions. Have a great weekend, and be sure to rest up for the Big Beaver Buckle Contest!

Katrocket vs. The Nippler: Soon to be a Major Motion Picture

2009-04-16T12:24:00.000-04:00

INT. TIM HORTON'S DONUTS, MIDTOWN TORONTO - DAY

KATROCKET stands in line at a coffee shop, waiting to place her order. A tall, lanky, and handsome STRANGER joins the queue behind her. He is wearing just a thin t-shirt and jeans on a bright, but chilly day. The STRANGER absent-mindedly rubs his nipples through his shirt while staring at the menu board. KATROCKET is intrigued.

KATROCKET
Yeah, sometimes donuts make me horny, too.

The STRANGER is initially shocked by KATROCKET's comment, then looks down his chest and spots his own hands rubbing his own nipples. His face turns bright red.

STRANGER
Oh shit! I mean... sorry! I...umm... it's much colder

outside than I thought.

KATROCKET
Hey, no need to apologize.

This is the sexiest coffee break I've ever had.

STRANGER
(smiling)
Are you always this forthcoming?

KATROCKET
Only when I spot someone doing the Nipsy Hustle in public.

You're a dying breed, you know.

STRANGER
(smiling even more)
Hey, you're very funny...

KATROCKET
Hey, I can still see your nipples.

REAL mutherfckin' snakes. REAL mutherfckin' plane.

2009-04-16T11:03:00.000-04:00

This news story made me light-headed with giddyness:

Full story: Baby pythons escape during flight in Australia

MELBOURNE, Australia - Four baby pythons escaped from a container aboard a passenger plane in Australia, leading to a search that forced the cancellation of two flights, the airline said Thursday.

Twelve non-venemous Stimson pythons were being transported Tuesday on a flight from Alice Springs to Melbourne in the plane's cargo area in a bag inside a plastic foam box with air holes.

When the flight landed, it was discovered four snakes had escaped from the package, a Qantas spokeswoman said in a statement.

A reptile expert searched for the 15-centimetre-long snakes but did not find them.It was not known if the snakes were still on the plane or if they had somehow escaped outside after the plane landed.

Problem: Hmmmm. Possibly something to do with "air holes"?

Solution: "Ok, everybody strap in! I'm about to open some fucking windows!" - Samuel L. Jackson

Praising The Lego Jesus, and Other Short Stories

2009-04-13T13:47:00.000-04:00

The following short stories are furnished at the request of one of my favourite new bloggers, Mr. London Street

Building a Blockier Jesus
by Katrocket

How many times have you thought that maybe your life would be a bit sweeter if only someone would just build you a giant Jesus out of Lego?

Well, some very creative Swedish folks have just unveiled their awesome Lego Jesus to the world, and the world has replied: "Wow - that's nice, but WTF is going on with that giant freaky foot there?"

Parishioners of the Oensta Gryta Church in Vaesteras (near Stockholm) built a 6 foot Jesus out of 30,000 Lego blocks. It reportedly took 40 volunteers nearly 18 months to put all the tiny plastic blocks together and grossly overestimate His sandal size.

It got me to thinking: if someone gave you 30,000 white lego blocks, what would you build with them? Feel free to share your Lego masterpiece ideas in the comment thread.

A Letter from Gwen
by Katrocket

I couldn't wait to read her colourful letter, so I opened it in my apartment lobby while I waited for the elevator. The lift opened, I walked in, read her note, and laughed out loud, which brought some puzzled stares from the two other residents in the elevator with me. I flashed them her card with a big smile and gushed: "My friend is a whore."

THE END.

How All the Change Changed My Life
by Katrocket

Due to an extensive series of unforeseen budget miscalculations (i.e. - I have never made and/or followed a budget), I realized yesterday that I'm flat broke right now. I knew I wasn't going to make it to payday later this week without selling something, like my soul, or perhaps - if I'm really lucky - just my dignity.

I desperately needed money for bus fare, so I started sifting through the big coin jar on my desk for a mittful of quarters, and that's when it hit me: Hey idiot, THESE COINS ARE MONEY!

I remembered there's one of those automated coin counting machines in a supermarket near my office. Maybe I had enough spare change to round up a few dollars and make life a little bit more comfortable for the next few days?

And so began The Reaping of The Coin. I found a surprising stash of coin-filled chalices all over my apartment... pennies packed into mason jars, plastic yogurt containers, flowerpots, even an old fish bowl. Somehow I had amassed over 16 pounds of mixed coins! I know this because I put all the coins in one giant sturdy bag and then weighed them on a scale. Quantitative facts can be important later, when I'm explaining the genesis of my hernia to a healthcare professsional.

I just cashed-in during my lunch break today, and victory is mine! Somehow, out of sheer financial laziness, I had saved up $224.86 in spare change.

The End.

The Beaver will set you free

2009-04-08T08:23:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I've been gone for a while, but hey - life gets very fast when you're this sexy, my friends.

I'll be back shortly, so in the meantime, why not take a moment to go check out Gwen's beaver*.

* Gwen's beaver is courtesy of the supertalented Beevers at BBJ.ca

And stay tuned for Rocketradio's
upcoming Spring Bling contest
to win a buckle of your very own...

The first rule about Bollywood Fight Club...

2009-03-27T11:29:00.000-04:00

...is to not point and laugh at Bollywood Fight Club.

This is the craziest little bit of international cinema* you're going to see on a lazy Friday afternoon, so brace yourself for 5 minutes of full-throttle what-the-fuck:

(Worth watching for the awesome 80s fashion showcase and the creepiest midget action I've seen in years.)

* Clip is from a film called Adhisaya Piravi. Big thanks to Dan the Man for the video suggestion.

Enjoy your weekend!

Bond is back, and he's being a pussy

2009-03-25T07:02:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I've posted any e-mails from Fake Daniel Craig - my fabulous British cyberstalker. But that doesn't mean the e-mails aren't still rolling in. If you're just joining us, I started receiving these mysterious "Letters from Bond" (and an occasional e-mail from Jesus) about six weeks ago. I am not writing these e-mails, and I still have no idea who this hilarious person is. I repost them here, unedited for your reading pleasure, so "Mail Bonding" has since become a semi-regular feature on Rocketradio...

From: Daniel Craig (dannytightbuns@yahoo.co.uk)
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Thursday, March 19, 2009 2:20:20 AM
Subject: The Latest
---------------------------------------

Wotcha Kat:

How are ya babe? Sorry it's been so bloody long, I've been all suave in the souf of France practicing for me Bond business ain't I? I hope you been thinking of me like I ave you. To prove my thoughts are always about you here's a photo of me dressed like a big old hairy fanny:

That's fanny like us Brits say it not fanny like you poncey north americans mean. A fanny ain't an ARSE or nothing it's a FANNY. A woopsie. A vajeen. Anyway that's me dressed as a vajeen for your pleashure. That's a chick next to me who woz totally trying to get wiv me but I cut her out the photo cuz she smelt like cabbage. Some fella approached me when I wuz wearing the big old vajeen costume and wanted me to be in a film called Clitty Clitty Bang Bang but I told 'im I woz intrested but couldn't do it guv, because like I'm doing Bond and all. OK that's it for now babe stay kewl and stay sexy and can I 'ave a picture of your bum? Or your fanny I ain't fussy.

Daniel XOXO

This just in: Amazing Breakthrough in Medical Science!

2009-03-20T13:32:00.000-04:00

NEWS FLASH: Maggots no faster than gels at healing wounds, study finds

Really, eh? Well I guess I'll keep sticking with the gels then.

Damn. I was really looking forward to the magical look on a child's face after mom dumps a mug of maggots over their little skinned knees.

Why doesn't anyone ever think of the children anymore?

Tune in next week: Leeches good at sucking blood; Cock? Not so much.

Wishes really can come true...

2009-03-18T06:23:00.000-04:00

So here I am with fellow blogger Gwen (that's her on the right) last night shortly after 8pm, enjoying a celebratory cocktail after a very challenging ferret bath. Gabriel is slightly less odiferous now, but will always remain a questionable choice for a house pet.

Please take note of how fresh Gwen gets after a couple of drinks.
Yes, she's totally into playing footsies, but I don't mind.
She's major sexy, no?

However, this is not the time for earthly temptations. This is the time to make a few dreams come true:

Dear Katrocket,

Hallowed be thy name.

Can I please have a miniature pony?

Regards,
Soda & Candy

Dear Soda & Candy,

I love Soda! And I love Candy! I think you're two of the best things on Earth.

Please enjoy your miniature pony. He likes apples.

All the best, Katrocket

Dear Katrocket,

Can you please make what women expect from men even lower?

Sincerely,
Pistols at Dawn

Dear Pistols At Dawn,

It seems you've been doing a most excellent job of this yourself over the past 15 years, and I'm concerned that divine intervention will only serve to wither the delicate flower of disappointment you have cultivated among the womenfolk of America.

Keep up the excellent work!

For a good time call, Katrocket xo

Dear Kat,

Please make my unit longer.

Oh yeah, and that world piece shit too...

Skyler's Dad

Dear Skyler's Dad,

Your Meatmaster 6000* is in the mail! Enjoy with caution.

I am also sending along a dictionary, because the first step to achieving world peace is learning how to spell it.

xo Katrocket

*Meatmaster 6000 image is credited to talented Romanian photographer Virgiliu Narcis . I am using this without permission, because living in Jesus' apartment makes you cocky (no pun intended) about breaking copyright laws.

Dear Kat:

I would like peace, health, and happiness for the WHOLE WORLD. And can you maybe make booze cheaper? 'Cause the more I drink the less I care about being old, fat, flabby, and cantankerous.

Thank you.

Chris

Dear Mr. Radloff,

Sorry, but world peace is off the menu for you and all the other hippies who asked for it. I offered to grant wishes, not miracles, so you'll have to wait until the Big J gets back from the Carolinas. I'll put in a good word for ya.

In the meantime, yes, of course I can make booze cheaper.

sweet dreams,

Katrocket

Okay folks - that's all the time we have for today, but stay tuned if you've submitted a wish - I hear you, and I'm working on your requests!

There are only so many wishes a girl can take on in one night. Or was that men?

make a wish...

2009-03-16T16:14:00.000-04:00

what's your wish?

Jesus had to attend a conference in Raleigh, so he left me in charge of his stupid smelly ferret, Gabriel. I figured that while I have the keys to his place, I might as well answer your prayers all week long between 6pm to 10pm EST.

Refreshments will be served.

Please bring your own lawn chair.

Are you annoying?

2009-03-02T08:14:00.000-05:00

Probably. But hey, it's hard to tell from this distance, so you'd better take
this hilarious quiz and find out for sure.

I scored 31 points, which apparently makes me "not annoying, possibly even pleasant".

Quiz Tip of the Day: Lying can actually make you a better person.

(exceptionally) Big Love

2009-02-25T07:54:00.000-05:00

From: Daniel Craig (dannytightbuns@yahoo.co.uk)
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Wednesday, February 18, 2009 2:28:33 PM
Subject: Alright darlin'?

wotcha kat,

its your lover boy toy daniel here keeping it real on the english side of the pond. i've been thinking about you a lot. my knob's been chafed and sore with all the thinking i've been doing. i'm aktualy busy on a new film at the mo which is garanteed to get me one of them oscar things everybody raves about. cuz i'm a serious actor you know. in the film I play dorothy, who's a big, oinky fat chick, like REALLY fat wiv a little head on top of a mountain of wobbly flesh like jabba and she gets sick of being laughed at and becomes the worlds first big porker-sized superhero innit. She like does great stuff like bring Big Macs to fat people who can't get out of bed without a forklift and help them lift there folds so they can wipe there tiddlers innit. i have to wear a fat suit of course as i'm just rippling with the muscles and ligatures and stuff in real life and way too fit to be a fat chick. i ain't got no pussy neither! so yeh that suit is hot as fak but you can totally have a boner in that suit and nobody even knows. i kept a bottle of liquor in there too aktualy. even when i was a fat chick i thought about you Kat. in fact that's when i found out about the boner thing. enclosed is a promo photo of me in character in case fat chicks are wot does it for you.

still hard for you
daniel x0x0
---------------------------------------------

From: Kat Rocket (katrocket@rogers.com)
To: Daniel Craig (dannytightbuns@yahoo.co.uk)
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2009 7:57:02 AM
Subject: More to Love, Darling

Well loverboy, you're no John Travolta - in the sense that I'm not sufficiently turned off to the point where I will no longer watch your films. BeckEye will most certainly hurt me for saying that, but thankfully for me, she's far away. And as you know, I have always applauded any suit that allows the concealment of both alcohol and boners, regardless of how utterly unstylish that suit may be. That's how I fell in love with the Snuggie, after all.

I really look forward to seeing you in this challenging new role, and I hope it brings you closer to your Oscar dream (not that one about you and Jack Klugman playing in the bouncy castle - I'm referring to the one where you win an Oscar award.)

Chunk it up, baby!

Much love from Kat
xo

Fan Mail from Jesus

2009-02-12T07:27:00.000-05:00

It's happening again - I've been receiving strange e-mails for the past couple of weeks, mostly from some hilarious, unknown person claiming to be actor Daniel Craig. Well, just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any better, yesterday I received some fan mail from Jesus.

Once again, I'll remind you that these are real e-mails crafted by a mysterious admirer (possibly the same person?), and reposted in their entirety for your enjoyment. I did reply to his letter, but immediately received a delivery failure notification, so I am including it here as well.

--------------------------------------------------

From: The Lord Jesus (groovyjesus@hotmail.com)
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Wednesday, February 11, 2009 11:14:10 AM
Subject: Rocketradio is A-okay with Jesus!

My dear child,

It has been brought to my holy attention that you have a most wonderful online weblog worthy of angels, therefore, I, Mr. Jesus Christ (you may call me Haysoos as I am just like one of you mortals) wished to check it out for my holy self.

Well Miss Rocket, I was not disappointed, although the cursing is a little worrisome. Still, one must move with the times and it is 2009, therefore I am quite amenable to change even if it means tolerating a little potty mouth here and there. Fuck yes.

I am, however, a little worried about the amount of bare lady breastages there appears to be on your weblog. Now, call me an old prude if you must (I AM 2009 years old after all) but does there have to be quite so many breastages? I, as Lord of everything, like to gaze upon the firm and ample bosom of a lady as much as the next person - although perhaps less than Tony Spunk, have you seen HIS weblog, full of filth and debauchery it is and I had to read it all just to make sure it wasn't Satanic or something like that - but I feel there is a time and a place for bare lady breastages and perhaps this is not on the Internetweb.

Before you think I am being rather pious, I should just point out that a gentleman just the other day let me into a secret - that there is, in fact, a whole bushel of bare ladies on the online Internetweb and that some of those ladies show a little more flesh than just the holy breastages and that some of those ladies also like to entertain foreign objects within their sacred orifices! I could not imagine why any lady would wish to do such a thing, so I went to a few website places and looked for myself and holy halos! I had to go and lie down in a dark room after I had viewed these unholy ladies for seven hours straight and say 1400 Hail Marys.

Or is it "Maries" as I'm never sure about plurals and I would hate to commit a grammar faux pas.

I also struggled a little with the Internetweb photographs of the plump men in plaid who like to entertain other plump men in plaid. Those men do not even HAVE breastages, therefore, I do not see the attraction, but I am a modern holy Lord so I viewed those men with compassion and truthfully, a little bit of a "boner" (is that how you youngsters say it?)

Anyway Miss Rocket, I would like you to keep up the good work in the name of the Lord and I am sorry if I made you feel bad - for this reason only I say, please feel free to keep posting photographic evidence of bare lady breastages. I have sent you a photo of myself for your viewing pleasure, demonstrating just how modern I am.

Cheerio!

Jesus
--------------------------------------------------

[NOTE: "Modern demo" photo withheld, pending censorship review from a higher authority]

From: Katrocket (katrocket@rogers.com)
To: The Lord Jesus (groovyjesus@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thursday, February 12, 2009 7:25:43 AM
Subject: Re: Rocketradio is A-okay with Jesus!

Haysoos!

Thanks for reading Rocketradio! I'm truly touched, and I swear to your Dad that I would have toned down the foul language if I had known that you were stopping by. I won't ever apologize for the nudity, because that's how I roll, so deal with it, baby.

The photo you sent me was nothing short of shocking, and I have never been very good at censoring my own material, but I'm pretty sure Blogger will cut me if I post that image. Unless you do that cool Jesus-mind trick (the one that was usurped by those stinkin' Jedis), and convince them that I am not the heathen they are looking for. You know I'll post just about anything, dude, but you have presented me with an unusual moral dilemma -- and I use the word 'unusual' because I didn't think I had enough morals to suffer an actual dilemma about them.

This opens an interesting philosophical debate: is a pornographic photo of Jesus considered offensive if Jesus himself sends it to you and dares you to post it? I mean, anyone who is your Facebook friend already knows you're a right randy party guy and a natural with the ladies, but what about all your sheep who are not as savvy with social networking sites? Get this: they all still think you're a Carpenter, bringing them timeless tunes about loving life with the piano stylings of your less-handsome brother, Richard.

So are you suggesting that it's okay to ruin things for these folks? What would you do? I think you should check in with your Dad on this one and get back to me.

Oh, and please remind him that he still owes me fifty quid from our game bet last Saturday - the Leafs beat his sad little Canadiens 5-2, and being all omnipotent and shit doesn't exempt him from his gambling debts.

Thanks again for writing, Haysoos - I loved you in Life of Brian - holy Christ, you are funny! - and you were really hot in The Passion of the Christ, even if you totally stole that gig from our beloved Dale.

love
Kat Rocket
xo

Everything you wanted to know about Canada (but were afraid to ask)

2009-02-12T06:41:00.000-05:00

for James: A clip from The Rick Mercer Report, which is kind of like a Canadian version of Jon Stewart's The Daily Show:

Decade

2009-02-10T18:22:00.000-05:00

If you live in Toronto and you're looking to spice up your Valentine's Day, check out The Scandelles in DECADE at Lee's Palace! Sexxxy Scandelles past and present take to the stage with classic (and new) burlesque numbers, hosted by Proud FM's Deb "Dirk" Pearce, and featuring:

Sasha Von Bon Bon
Kitty Neptune
Jesse Dell & Project Sugar
Beever
Trixie Easybake
Christopher Noel
Cooter Nipplestein
Daddy K
Shawnorrhea
Crystal Visions

and a wicked HOT photoshow by Katrocket

DJ Shane Mackinnon spins for your post-show wriggling pleasure.

Dirty prizes from Come As You Are

Saturday, Feb 14th - Lee's Palace (529 Bloor St West).

Doors open at 9pm - Advance tickets ($12) available from Ticketmaster, Rotate This!, Soundscapes, and the Horseshoe.

Tickets also available at the door for the best fifteen bucks you'll ever spend.

www.thescandelles.com

Photoshow sneak peak on Flickr

More Mail Bonding

2009-02-05T06:11:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I got another e-mail from Daniel Craig.

Before you get the wrong idea, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that I am NOT writing this material myself in the form of a fake e-mail for your reading pleasure. Yes, I do realize they're not coming from the real Daniel Craig, Actor and Hot Stuff, but I do solemnly swear that these are actual e-mails I've been receiving from some guy out there who loves me enough to spend his time impersonating my favourite celebrity and showering me with hilarity. And for that, dear "Daniel", I love ya right back, baby.

I saw some clueless woman on Dr. Phil a few weeks ago, who spent 11 months in an "intimate Facebook relationship" with someone she honestly thought was actor Matthew Perry from the show Friends. She believed with all her heart that Mr. Perry had fallen in love with her - he sent her gifts and flowers, and in return, she left her crumbling marriage for him. The woman was "shocked" to discover it was just some teenage girl from the UK havin' a laff. Really, honey? "Shocked" that Matthew Perry doesn't trawl Facebook looking for middle-aged housewife action? Okay.

Anyways, this is nothing like that. Because I'm not stupid. In fact, I don't personally know anyone that stupid. But Fake Daniel's e-mail address does originate from the UK, so maybe Fake Matthew Perry and Fake Daniel Craig get together at the pub and discuss their fake conquests over a pint? That's a pretty funny visual.

So to my "Daniel", thanks again loverboy - your last message made me lose it completely:

From: Daniel Craig
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Wednesday, February 4, 2009 12:41:48 PM
Subject: my sweetie

Baby you make me so hot. When I read about you in a snuggie it made my loins ache. course i had to go google snuggie as i had no idea what the hell it was and i was scared maybe it was some little furry animal or sumfink but on seeing it i had a giant stiffy that lasted till today imagining your naked arse rubbing against it. i had to buy one for myself just to turn you on. I sent you a polaroid of it with this email wot I took just 4 you babe. May you have many happy organisms looking at it.

gotta run i got a tiny asian chick comin round to massage me toes.

your 4evah daniel x0x0x

NSFW(ednesday)

2009-02-04T07:09:00.000-05:00

Would you still love me if I put a big rock in the toe of your sock and forced you to walk?

from I Married a Strange Person by Bill Plympton

My reply to Daniel Craig

2009-02-03T21:15:00.000-05:00

From: Katrocket (katrocket@rogers.com)
To: Daniel Craig (dannytightbuns@yahoo.co.uk)
Sent: Saturday, January 31, 2009
Subject: Re: Wotcha Kat

Daniel dearest,

Thanks for reading Rocketradio! I almost had an organism myself after reading your e-mail.

To answer your question about my nippels: smaller than a breadbox, but bigger than a silver dollar.

And what am I wearing? Well, I hope you're sitting down, my friend, cuz I'm wearing nothing but a Snuggie. It's the sexy blanket with arms! As if a girl needs anything more.

Love always,

Kat

P.S. -- I hope your mate Douglas isn't the Douglas I know from Hamstead Heath. He's a right dodgy sausage, that one.

Daniel Craig wants me baaaaad

2009-01-31T08:03:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I received the most exciting and surprising e-mail ever: a love note from my favourite actor and Number 1 Starcrush, Daniel Craig. You see, Daniel might be a Hollywood big shot now, but he certainly knows what's best for him - a non-stop thrill ride on the Rocket.

And really, can you blame him? I am one of Toronto's hottest single ladies. The city may be buried under two feet of snow, but you can still find my house on Google Earth - just look for the 1 km radius of melted green patch.

Here is the message in its entirety. WARNING: Some of the language gets quite sexy. I'm rather used to it, but some of you might faint.

From: Daniel Craig
To: katrocket@rogers.com
Sent: Friday, January 30, 2009 6:58:49 PM
Subject: Wotcha Kat

Hello Kat,

I recently found your wonderful journal on the internet while googling myself and had to drop you a line because I notice you find me appealing and fucking sexy. Join the line girl. Actualy I would let you hop right to the front as you sound really hot. And I see you are in Torononto and I never had a canadian before. My mate Douglas says canadian girls are hot to trot and you know me I like a girl who wants to get off with me like you clearly do. Especialy if she is a loud girl. I like a screamer me. Makes me know I'm using my willy properly dunnit. I hope your the sort of girl who moans like a fucking ghost because that turns me on in a huge way and my willy almost goes off the end of the ruler. Wink. I think you know what that means. Organism city baby. I'm James fucking Bond you know I can get me any girl but you seem like you could go all night long so I'm up for it next time I am on a promo tour in canada. Mark your calundar girl caz I'm coming to town. Coming being the word. Yeah. My whole flat is mirrored you know so I can keep track of my rugged handsomeness. Sometimes I even give myself a flaming chubby know what I'm saying? It must be grate to be you and look at me all the time on screen and rub your clitory area. I aprove of that insidently. Please write back to me as I'm a busy man but never too busy to chat to a hot piece of tottie like you. When you do write tell me what your wearing and how big your nippels are thanx. I have to go to a benefit now for classy people.

Yours famously Daniel

-------------------------------------------------

Thanks sweetie, you made my week. I don't normally go for dudes who can't spell, but you seem to have other talents, so I guess I can let it slide, just this one time.

I'm reminded of this fun bit you did with British comedienne Catherine Tate as Elaine Figgis:

I'd like you to know that I would have kept that stuffed bear. And the bicycle built for two. And if I'm being completely honest here, probably a lock of your hair and some photos of you sleeping.

Supermodel Thursday (maybe NSFW)

2009-01-29T07:09:00.000-05:00

Well, it would seem that I'm not allowed to use the internet for "non work-related activity" at my new job, so I'm no longer able to waste countless hours coming up with long-winded stories for you through the week. It's okay though - that's what You Tube clips are for.

Yesterday at work, one of the students addressed me as "yo girlfriend!", to which I replied "That's not my name", and goddammit, now I've got that fucking song in my head.

The video for it is really boring, so here's a much more exciting version. Your votes in the sidebar poll have sent a clear message: you like boobs. Well, I don't intend to post any more images of my own boobs (unless WendyB wins an Oscar or something) but this clip should meet your demands. It's probably not safe for your work either - if your boss hates lingerie and beautiful girls - and if that's the case, are these really the kind of people you want to be working for?

Another reason why Germans prefer David Hasselhoff

2009-01-27T07:20:00.000-05:00

Looks like it's turning into Headline Week here at Rocketradio...

BERLIN (Reuters Life!) - Driver crash-lands car on church roof

A motorist missed a bend in the road, broke through a barrier and hurtled up a bank, crash-landing on a church roof in eastern Germany, police said on Monday.

The bank acted like a springboard, propelling the vehicle about 35 meters (115 ft) forward and straight into the church's roof frame, where it remained wedged 7 meters off the ground, police said in a statement.

In spite of the damage caused to the car and the church, police have reported that hillbilly cousins Bo and Luke Duke sustained no injuries.

Police statement: "They're just some good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm. Today the church might have got 'em, but the law never will."

The Nigerian Police always get their goat

2009-01-24T08:54:00.000-05:00

TRUE STORY: LAGOS (Reuters) - Police in Nigeria are holding a goat on suspicion of attempted armed robbery.

Vigilantes took the black and white beast to the police saying it was an armed robber who had used black magic to transform himself into a goat to escape arrest after trying to steal a Mazda 323.

The group of vigilante men came to report that while they were on patrol they saw some hoodlums attempting to rob a car. They pursued them. However one of them escaped while the other turned into a goat," Kwara state police spokesman Tunde Mohammed told Reuters by telephone.

"We cannot confirm the story, but the goat is in our custody. We cannot base our information on something mystical. It is something that has to be proved scientifically, that a human being turned into a goat," he said.

Belief in witchcraft is widespread in parts of Nigeria, Africa's most populous nation. Residents came to the police station to see the goat, photographed in one national newspaper on its knees next to a pile of straw.

Police also have good reason to suspect the goat had been involved with an internet phishing scam in the past, e-mailing innocent Americans to solicit help in claiming his family's lost fortune.

The goat's lawyer steadfastly denies the accusations of grand theft auto, and has issued the following statement to news media:

"My client is innocent. We are confident that the evidence will reveal in court that Squirrels are the masterminds behind this crime ring. Everyone knows that goats can't drive stick."

The Year of Living Dangerously

2009-01-22T13:20:00.000-05:00

A year ago today, I lost the full-time production job I had at a small multimedia company. I was rather surprised by the management's decision, but not terribly upset about it, because it really wasn't the job for me. I had no idea what to do with my life, so I gave self-employment a try.

I put all my time and energy into developing Rocketstudio, and I did quite well at it for a while, until things came grinding to a halt last November. I had just launched a very successful shopping site for Shopaganda, and was all ready to take on a few more scheduled projects, then the panic and fear of the 'economic crisis' hit everyone.

Suddenly my clients were too worried to invest their money into websites and advertising, and shelved all the plans we made. Contract jobs started to dwindle, and competition for even the really crappy jobs got ridiculously fierce. I couldn't even land an entry-level clerical or PA position, in spite of close to 20 years of experience in the film, media, and advertising industries. I was told I was too old, too young, too expensive, overqualified, underqualified, their "second choice!"... but no matter what I said or did, I was never the right candidate. I barely stayed afloat with temp jobs and my life savings. I kept my creativity alive by starting up Fire That Agency, writing a book, and thinking about Grant Miller. It's been a rough ride these past few months.

So after a year of living dangerously, I'm finally going back to work for someone who will actually pay me money to do something I love. I'll be starting a new career on Monday, managing the Technical Dept. at a film college. It's the perfect gig for me, and it came at the perfect time - just before I was forced to paint a big sign that says "COKE AND A SMILE: $100/no tax" and go hang around the airport parking garage. Sorry to disappoint, folks! You had your chance.

So I'll begin a new chapter next week, and hopefully I'll be able to keep up my furious blogging quota of 'one or two half-assed posts per week'. All for you, baby.

Morning Announcements

2009-01-20T07:51:00.000-05:00

If you haven't dropped by Fire That Agency! in a while, let me tell you: it's smokin' hot:

-- We've got some fabulous new writers (Andy Rooney, Skyler's Dad, and Michael)

-- BeckEye has the latest scoop on ShamWow Vince's nuts!

-- Stay tuned later today for the long awaited return of Pistols At Dawn!

Sorry, I'm a little busy today, so that's all I've got for the moment. I know, such a let-down after all the cake and boobs last week. I've spoiled you people.

Rack It Up!

2009-01-16T13:40:00.000-05:00

Last week, I promised that if WendyB won Best Fashion Blog at the 2008 Weblog Awards, I would post a photo of my rack, because "a vote for WendyB is a vote for boobs."

Well, Wendy took home the Bronze Medal, which is truly a fantastic result, because she was up against Go Fug Yourself, and The Sartorial , a couple of media giants with corporate backing and thousands of daily subscribers.

So here's to you, WendyB - congratulations! I said I would post my rack if Wendy WON, so this is the consolation prize:

But then I decided that you all deserve better. Many of you went and voted for someone you didn't even know, clinging to the hope that you would be rewarded with something that wasn't handcrafted by a hillbilly. And let's face it, if baring my chest doesn't earn me a link on Wendy's blog, I'm afraid nothing will, so let's make a game of it, shall we?

PLAY RACK-IT RADIO!
Here's 15 random racks from my private collection. Three of them belong to me. Leave a comment with your 3 guesses. Everyone's a winner!

Oh, and if you think you can ace this game by comparing hairstyle/hair colour, you're dead wrong. Many of these models are wearing wigs. Ha!

[Go to Megaperv Mode: click on image to enlarge.]

Dealing with Whorette's Syndrome

2009-01-15T12:00:00.000-05:00

Imagine this: You're single, and looking for love. You go out to a bar with a few of your single girlfriends. You're having a lovely time, chatting up an intelligent, funny, charming, and good-looking person of interest. Maybe it's just a fun and friendly conversation, or maybe you're noticing there's some sweet chemistry developing between the two of you and it's worth your time and effort to explore the possibility of dating.

And perhaps this unexpected meeting of two like minds has bolstered your confidence, which has been gently receding over the past year due to a series of unfortunate lifestyle and career choices. But on this particular evening, you've got game. You're feeling clever and sharp, and you're at your wit's best - hell, you even dare to feel sexy, attractive and worthy of someone's love in that brief moment.

Suddenly, a gray cloud drifts over your little ray of sunshine, at the precise moment when the conversation has leaned toward relationships, and whether or not he/she desires one at the present time. One of your girlfriends swoops down upon your intimate table talk with a round of drinks, and a very loud presence.

She attempts to steer your new friend's attention away from you, possibly because she is selfish and must always be the center of attention, but also because she might be a really shitty friend. You should bear in mind that in spite of her heavy emotional baggage and featherlight grip on reality, she may be considered more physically attractive than you, and this will bode well for her in matters of sexual competition.

It's not your fault. You see, your friend may be dealing with Whorette's Syndrome - a neuropsychiatric disorder characterized by the uncontrollable release of obscene come-on lines, detailed accounts of her sexual adventures, and full disclosure of her bedroom talents and preferences. Other symptoms may include motion tics such as: the twirling of hair; the batting of eyelashes; the annoying giggling at every spoken word (humourous or otherwise); the casual touching of forearms, hands, or knees; and a remarkable compulsion to draw attention to her sexual availability, by any means necessary.

Women with Whorette's Syndrome cannot control their outbursts of brazen flirtation. More complicated cases will even claim a complete lack of personal interest in your companion, in spite of all the private or embarrassing secrets she will "let slip" to make you appear inferior to her. Genetic and environmental factors each play a role in the etiology of Whorette's, but the exact causes are unknown. The most widely accepted academic theory is "Daddy didn't love her."

Unlike the male version of this terrible affliction (assholococcusbloccus or "cockblocking"), Whorette's Syndrome is far more difficult to predict and control in women. 'Come here - go away' — the ongoing increase and decrease in severity and frequency of inappropriate behaviours - allows sufferers the ability to suppress their actions for limited periods of time, but doing so often results in an explosion of events afterward, such as hitting on your partner, sleeping with your partner, or aggressively pursuing your very recent ex partner.

Although there is no such thing as a "typical" case of Whorette's Syndrome, one thing is for certain: they are dangerous sluts who need to be dealt with in a swift and firm manner. Subtle hints, mild hand gestures, eye rolling, and even polite handwritten notes that clearly spell out the words "BACK OFF, BITCH." will not work on Whorette's patients.

In a recent behavioural study, I have discovered that the most effective method for dealing with Whorette's is to privately inform the object of your affections that your friend is currently in possession of a highly communicable sexually transmitted disease. Be creative - there are plenty of STDs to choose from, so pick the one that is most believable in your specific situation. Herpes is usually the most reliable option, given it's connotations of foreverness and stubborn resistance to pharmaceutical therapies. It's best not to get greedy and suggest HIV, for this can backfire on you, and instill a false sense of pity or compassion in men.

It should be noted that a significant number of men are not deterred by the promise of dicksores. (see: At Dawn, Pistols. Save your Generation. 2006-09). Some advanced resourcefulness may be required in such cases. Here are some more effectively proven treatments:

1) Provide embarrassing/compromising photos.
Be very cautious here. Images should reveal the more negative aspects of the individual (police mug shot; bad hair day; stuffing face with cake; fugly drunk face; modelling her fat pants three years ago; holding hostages at gunpoint) and should not involve nudity or sexual acts. In case you're completely fucking daft, you should know that men rather enjoy that kind of thing.

2) Discuss the topic of literature or current events.
68% of Whorette's sufferers have never read a book or watched the news, so if your potential partner is the intellectual type, you may succeed in exposing your rival as a complete idiot that is unsuitable for his needs (beyond that night). This method can also help you determine if your love interest prefers substance over style, thereby saving you time and effort in your search for a proper mate.

3) Bait and switch.
Arrange to meet your Whorette's friend at a specific venue and time, then go to different bar across town. When she texts you the letters "WTF?" and "where are you?" keep replying with messages such as: "I'm near the bar!"; or "I'm in the ladies...BRB!" or "I'm standing right next to you." This is also known as gaslighting.

4) Disengage from social activity with women who have Whorette's Syndrome.
No one wants to abandon a friend suffering from a social illness, but in the highly competitive sport of dating, a good defense is your best offence. You can still talk to your friend, just not when there's boys around.

5) Write a bitter blog post under the guise of providing relevant medical information.
Internalize your pain and anger so that you can pseudonymously complain about it the next day on the internet. Try to write in the third person and use impressive words like "pseudonymously" to appear authoritative and virtually unfazed by betrayal. Take a cheap swipe at Pistols because you can, and because he seems to like it when you mention his name, regardless of context. Casually lie to your Whorette's friend when she asks you point blank if the post was about her.

WARNING: DO NOT under any circumstance suggest that she is a lesbian! You will not be doing yourself any favours.

DISCLAIMER: This post is provided for informational and entertainment purposes only. It is not intended to be a substitute for professional psychological advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your 'real life friends' if you have any questions or concerns about the man-stealing cunts you've been hanging out with.

EXCITING UPDATE: Charming Funny Guy just texted me this afternoon: "Enjoyed meeting u! Got wknd plans? Wanna talk more - this time without ur friends. HAHA!"

Victory is mine!

Laundrospat

2009-01-13T17:23:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, I had a very disturbing experience in the laundry room of my apartment building. It was something that enraged me to the point where I wrote this bitchy note to the offending party. I had every intention of posting it on the bulletin board of my laundry room, but my BFF read it and he says it's way too over the top.

I disagree. Put yourself in my situation and tell me what you would do.

(click on image to enlarge it for better reading)

Bush Defends Legacy In Final News Conference

2009-01-13T14:14:00.000-05:00

Yahoo! News HEADLINE: Bush Defends Legacy In Final News Conference

"There are plenty of critics in this business," Bush said
at a valedictory encounter with reporters in the White House
briefing room at the end of a turbulent two term presidency,
"but I thought it was a purdy good movie."

"I can see why that David Hasselhoff fella
is so darn popular," he added, throwin' out some
el diablo action to photographers in attendance.

The King of Cakes

2009-01-12T08:30:00.000-05:00

Thanks for your enthusiastic comments on the previous cake-themed post. Here's a quick cake story to kick off your week....

My sister-in-law took me for a winter hike through her little alpine village to see the church where she married my brother. I have no idea why - I mean, I had no real interest in churches per se, but I do enjoy checking out old architecture, and the grand tour about town made Sophie happy.

It was late afternoon when we entered the church, and it was pretty dark inside, save for a small shrine of glowing candles on the east wall and rows of tall, backlit stained glass windows above us. In spite of the low light, I could see that the interior was quite ornate and golden and gaudy in a sort of charming way. We ad libbed some silly captions for the iconic tapestries on the walls, and we were still giggling like heathens when a shaky voice suddenly boomed out of the darkness and scared the shit out of us.

"Aimez-vous mon gâteau?"

I was pretty sure it wasn't God, because the voice was asking if we liked his cake.

There was a large golden throne next to the dias at the front altar section of the church, and as we cautiously approached the source of the voice, we could see the emerging shadow of an old man sitting on the throne. He was staring at us and eating a giant piece of cake from a styrofoam plate with a plastic spoon. He was wearing one of those tissue paper crowns that come from those Christmas cracker thingys. He had a lei around his neck made of sparkly red and silver Christmas tree garland. He was giggling and sing-saying (in French):

"I am the king... I have some cake!
I AM THE KING OF CAKES!
You have no cake! NO CAKE!
Do you like MY cake?
HahaHAHAHA!
I am the best king ever!"

My sister-in-law began to engage the old man in conversation, and she quickly learned that a local family had rented the large common room and kitchen in the church basement for their Christmas party, and Gramps - who was suffering from Alzheimer's or some other mental disability - had wandered upstairs to enjoy his cake on the comfort of his throne.

It was far too dark to get a decent photo of him, so please enjoy this artist's rendering to your left.

(actual King and Throne not as gay as illustrated.)

We could hear music echoing from below, so Sophie presented her right elbow to him for support, which he happily accepted, although he steadfastly refused to allow either of us to hold his plate of cake for even a moment while we descended the steps from the altar. He was prudent not to trust us. Sophie and I both hail from a long, nefarious line of cake usurpers.

The King shuffled along beside us, rambling on and on about cake and some other stuff I couldn't understand because he was mumbling and still had his mouth stuffed full of cake. He had green icing on his chin, on his shirt, and all over his hands, which were now clinging tight to Sophie's forearm. We slowly steered him down the center aisle and down a narrow winding staircase to the basement.

We returned The King to his People at the party downstairs, where his grateful relatives rewarded us each with a slice of cake, a glass of wine, and a really awkward performance by a group of four tween-aged girls doing some kind of gay voguing routine to a Daft Punk song. It made me wonder if little French girls learn how to dance from Italian game shows. Their style could best be described as 'cheerleading without the pompoms', or - if I'm being really generous - possibly an homage to doin' The Robot.

The King of Cakes helped himself to another big slice, ignoring all protests from some mean old bitch who was slapping at his sticky hands while barking "Non! Non plus!" He winked at me, and when he smiled, the three teeth in his mouth were stained bright green with icing.

Long live the The King of Cakes, for He truly is the Best King Ever.
------------------------------------------------

SLOW WORK DAY? Here's more amazing stories to help you look busy:

- Andy Rooney - special guest on Fire That Agency!
- Skyler's Dad joins the writing staff at Fire That Agency!
- The Green Knight
- The Abominable Snowman
- Last Call

A vote for Wendy B is a vote for Boobs.

2009-01-07T07:28:00.000-05:00

Gorgeous fashionista and talented jewelry designer Wendy Brandes has been nominated for a 2008 Weblog Award in the category of "Best Fashion Blog". Please join me in congratulating Wendy B, because this is a pretty big deal. This is like the Oscars of blogging.

I think it's hardly fair that she's up against Heather and Jessica at Go Fug Yourself, since they're full-time celeb blogger type folks with advertisers and media support. I do think their blog is really hilarious, but Wendy is funny too, and unlike the Fug Girls, she has a far more positive approach to writing. There's no judgmental attitude, no "fashion police" crap, and she has very cute dogs who are cool about modelling handbags. She also writes about other non-fashion topics so there's even a little something there for people who hate being stylish.

And hey guys, she posts pics of her rack every now and then, so a vote for Wendy is a vote for boobs, and you'd be out of your fucking mind not to vote for boobs.

I think we're a pretty supportive community of bloggers, so maybe if we spread the word, we can help Wendy dump Heather and Jessica on their asses? It'll only take 30 seconds of your time, and if your votes help her to win, I'll post photos of my own rack for a whole week to celebrate.

-- see her beautiful jewelry at Wendy Brandes Jewelry online shop

-- check out her blog

CLICK HERE TO VOTE FOR WENDY

[You can vote once every 24 hours. Polls close Tuesday January 13, 2009 at 5pm Eastern Standard Time]

Baby's First Explosion

2009-01-06T13:19:00.000-05:00

I was in the truck with my dad, driving to my uncle's house for Christmas dinner, when we passed by a row of townhouses where we lived when I was around 7 years old. I confessed that the most vivid memory I have of that house was at Christmastime, when I figured out that Santa Claus was all a big fat lie.

With my mom's help, I wrote out some questions for Santa on one of those giant pads of doodle paper. I asked why he wore a red suit, if he had any children of his own, if he had a part-time job in the summer, and a few other things I suppose, and placed it next to his milk and cookies.

On Christmas morning, the cookies were eaten (with a few crumbs left behind for a nice effect), and my letter was answered! But I was no idiot - I knew right away that the reply was in my father's handwriting. He was a draughtsman and architect, and his penmanship reflected his trade -- very neat, tidy, and perfectly aligned, and he only ever used ALL CAPS. Aside from his signature, I've never seen him write anything in script - just block printing. Seven-year old me was shocked and disappointed, but I had a 3 year-old brother to consider, and I also feared that outing dad as Santa would greatly diminish any hopes of future holiday loot. So I kept that little secret to myself until a couple weeks ago.

My dad was laughing about the whole thing, and then he very casually asked me: "Do you remember the explosion?"

The explosion, dad? Oh, do tell.

Well, it was years before that house, he told me, when we lived out at the lake. He reckoned I was just a year old, maybe not even that, and there was a violent lightning storm one night. My mom had been working the late shift at the hospital, and he was worried about her driving the 40-minute commute home in bad weather. Several loud thunder crashes had awakened me in the night, so he was pacing the living room with me in his arms, trying to get me to stop screaming, while silently freaking out about his wife, who was already an hour late getting herself home. He was only 21 years old.

"I managed to settle you down a bit," he recalled, "I was at the big bay window, pointing at the giant apple tree in our front yard -- I guess it was about 30 feet from the house, really tall and wide and full of big white blossoms. I was saying soothing shit like 'look! Look at the pretty flowers! ... it's only rain, and the rain makes the flowers grow' and just as a smile came across your face, this gigantic lighting bolt came outta nowhere and blew that fucking apple tree into a million pieces! The explosion blew out the side windows of the house and the back window of my car. I can't believe the big window in front of us didn't shatter. I'm not exaggerating here - it was a mutherfucking fireball. The noise was deafening... and there was no goddam tree left after that. Completely obliterated."

Wow. I certainly didn't remember any of that. But it did occur to me that I have inherited my father's pottymouth. So how did he handle it?

"We both squealed and shat our pants."

2009-01-05T08:35:00.000-05:00

Hey kids, how were your holidays? I enjoyed my time off, but I'm back with a fresh new look to celebrate my return to blogging. I'm not completely satisfied with this design, so it may change over time, but that all-white template had to go. It stains too easily.

Okay, enough about you... I suppose a lot has happened over the past three weeks. I missed most of it, so feel free to fill me in. I'm not going to bait you with phenomenal tales about my vacation - they'll only make you intensely jealous of me and the glamourous life I lead, and neither of us want that, most especially not you.

Here's a few updates:

Katrocket Wins Prestigious Blogging Awards
After several years of complete failure at the Drysdale Awards, Grant Miller Media has bestowed Rocketradio with The Lifetime Achievement Award in the Field of Promoting Grant Miller Media. I'm sure there are some bitter losers out there who will make wild claims of nepotism, but ask yourself this: what have YOU done for Grant Miller lately?

some award-winning 2008 posts about Grant Miller Media:
Setting Free The Bears: Grant Miller and his stance on Gay Bear Dating
Grant is...Facebook: status updates from Grant Miller
Happy Birthday Grant Miller: a comprehensive dissertation on The Man and His Milestones

I was also awarded a Gold Star from Champion Lurker Bill Stankus from Just A Moment of Miscellany (thanks, Bill). This is especially cool because I had no idea that Mr. Stankus was a Rocketreader until a few days ago, which makes this the first blog award I've ever won that was not the direct result of intense lobbying and/or blackmail.

Following the Rocketroll
The blogroll has been updated with some fabulous new bloggers, and I finally caved and added that fucking Follower gadget that you're all so fond of. I promise I'll be adding your blog soon, so if you've been holding out on "following" Rocketradio for childish political reasons (i.e.- because I haven't been "following" your blog), I hope you're happy now.

Blogmosis
I've got too many blogs and not enough time to maintain them, so I have moved all the short stories from my WordPress site over to this blog and I'll be shutting down r o c k e t a l k next week. The WP content is now tagged in the archives as "amazing stories" - I'm not kidding you. They are pretty fucking amazing. Waaaay more amazing than this shitty post.

Newsflash: Scientology helped Tom Cruise beat dyslexia
No logner fnuctoinlaly illiteraet, btu sitll a pompuos asshoel.

A lame joke I heard while watching Mythbusters at 2am:
Q: What's red and smells like blue paint?
A: Red paint.

Stuff I recently quit doing, but refuse to call "new year resolutions" in case I feel like doing them again some day:
- drinking coffee
- smoking cigarettes
- eating junk food (not to be confused with "eating junk")
- dating miserable cunts
- enjoying a carefree lifestyle that included coffee, cigarettes, junk food and cunts.

2008 can suck it

2008-12-31T16:11:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

I totally fucking miss you.

Voulez vous buvez avec moi, ce soir?

see ya next week...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

2008-12-22T09:57:00.000-05:00

This will be my final post for 2008... I'm leaving town for a while, so I'd like to wish all of you fabulous people a truly terrific holiday. Thanks for all the laughs this year...

I'm spending the holidays with my family, which means I'll be drinking with a view and writing for the next couple of weeks, so I'll be back in January with more stories, one less blog (rocketalk is going off the air) and a brand new format.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Joyeux Nöel et Bonne Année!
love Kat xo

Show Us Your Tips!

2008-12-16T14:03:00.000-05:00

Headline: Paris art models go nude to protest City Hall law against tipping

PARIS (AP) - Paris City Hall wants to strip art school models of the tips they receive from painters and sculptors - and the nude models decided they weren't going to take that with their clothes on. About 15 models braved near-freezing temperatures to strip outside the city's cultural affairs bureau Monday to protest a new municipal order that again bans the age-old practice of tipping those who pose nude.

I can't even believe I'm writing this sentence, because I am ALL ABOUT THE NUDITY, but wouldn't this protest be slightly more effective if the models kept their clothes ON? You know, refuse to show the artsy-fartsies their "tip" until they see some tips? I'm just not convinced that working for free is the clearest path to higher wages.

One of the things I love about France is the ass-backwards way they protest stuff that pisses them off. I was visiting there when the ban on public smoking in cafes and restaurants took effect on Jan 1, 2008. The French were completely outraged by the whole assault on their smoking culture, but chose to protest the new bylaw by - get this - boycotting the purchase of cigarettes. Oh yes,that will teach them all a big fat lesson. The French sure are good at problem-solving.

And then there was that time in 2005 when the restless youth of Paris protested police violence and high youth unemployment by rioting in the streets, burning cars and businesses (including a daycare), and killing innocent bystanders. Because nothing helps you get a job faster than torching the offices of your potential employers, and nothin' keeps the fuzz at bay like an arson party.

Anyways, fuck all that, we were talking about boobs, right?

I'm leaving for France next week, and you can be damn sure I'll be nipping this issue in the buff.

Oh, and if you like the above painting, it's "The French Model" by Sergey Ignatenko. I just told him I was French to score that gig. Sorry I defaced it with a mitt full o' Euros, but my hand was already covering that boob, so you're not missing anything, perverts.

A Comprehensive Directory of All The Animals I Ate Last Night

2008-12-15T11:10:00.000-05:00

Last night, I enjoyed a special culinary tour of Fuzion, one of Toronto's fine dining/lounges on the Church Street strip. As the guest of one of the house chefs, I had the rare privelege of experiencing a 10-course tasting menu (a series of small portions) of their newest winter dishes within the stunning decor of the old Robert Simpson House.

It was a wonderful evening and I highly recommend this restaurant if you're in Toronto (Church & Dundonald) and looking for a lovely spot to enjoy some deliciously creative food.

If you're a vegetarian (shame on you), you might want to look the other way, because these are all the animals I ate:

The wilderness is a quieter place this morning.

Farewell, Bettie Page

2008-12-12T08:47:00.000-05:00

The world's most famous and controversial pin-up model, Bettie Page, passed away yesterday in Los Angeles at the age of 85.

click here for her obituary from Associated Press

There will never be another model like Bettie, because she personified naughty in an era of nice, and helped to usher in the sexual revolution of the 60s.

"There was a passion play unfolding in her mind. What some see as a bad-girl image was in fact a certain sensual freedom and play-acting - it was part of the fun of being a woman."
-- Olivia De Berardinis, American painter

"The origins of what captures the imagination and creates a particular celebrity are sometimes difficult to define. Bettie Page was one of Playboy magazine's early Playmates, and she became an iconic figure, influencing notions of beauty and fashion."
-- Hugh Hefner, Playboy Magazine

"I want to be remembered as I was when I was young and in my golden times... I want to be remembered as the woman who changed people's perspectives concerning nudity in its natural form."
-- Bettie Page

Most of Bettie's images are NSFW, but I'm posting some here anyways and I'm sorry if anyone catches hell, but seriously, you should know better than to read Rocketradio at work. Nudity happens.

click images to enlarge

Lost

2008-12-11T12:16:00.000-05:00

I had a dream about you last night. We were lost (again) because you refused to ask for directions.

I tried to be cool about it. I know it's a "guy thing", this business of not-asking-for-directions. Some psychologists say we need to let our fellas find places on their own, otherwise, they find it emasculating. Frankly, if getting to our destination on time makes your penis feel tiny, then being lost is the least of our problems.

So I read the road map aloud to you and you ignored me. I pointed out landmarks and suggested we turn around, but you ignored me. But in my dreams, I am smarter than you. I started to give you the wrong signals. If I wanted to go east, I would make a suggestion to go west. You began to choose the right path just because it was the opposite of where I wanted to go.

And when I woke up, I really woke up. And lying next to me, you were still lost in a dream.

I realized that we've been lost for 10 years. And I think it's because I always let you navigate. Outside of our relationship, I make good decisions that take me to good places. People pay me to think for them, because I know where I'm going. I could take us to some wonderous places, baby. I simply got used to the fact that your pride was stronger than your belief in me.

I guess I've loved you too much to take the wheel. Yes, you let me drive now and then, but you always sit there and sulk. And if I make a mistake, I know you'll help me relive it for months. Part of me is afraid that one day you'll just open the passenger door and roll yourself out, regardless of how bad it hurts. But there's also a part of me that's thinking about giving you a push.

So I got out of bed and put the coffee on. And I'll wait for you to wake up.

Bootylicious!

2008-12-09T13:32:00.000-05:00

I had an excellent birthday yesterday, thanks in part to your kind wishes, and the overwhelming generousity of my beautiful friends. For all the sordid party details, please read the The Guv'ner's Official Kat Birthday Commission Report on the year's most stud-starred event.

I've also got some pics of my birthday booty (as in "treasure", not "ass") to better illustrate the full degree of awesomeness.

I received a pair of black low-top Converse All Stars from my BFFs Trixie and Beever. I love them Beevers! I've wanted a new pair of Chucks for a long time. I need all the help I can get to regain my Hipster Doofus status after that incident at Starbucks which now prevents me from loitering around on their sticky sofas with my laptop.

No mo' Snarbuck!

A little something from myself - a new skin for the Rocketfone! I have a very generic cellphone, which only led to terrible mobile ownership confusion in the past, so I designed this skin myself, to help reduce those late night bar brawls. Now my phone is so much cooler than your phone could ever hope to be.

My dad got me a ticket to see Duran Duran tonight at the ACC! I was a big fan of DD as a teen, and I missed out on seeing them live way back in the old days, so 22 years later, I'll finally live the dream.

Super sexy cookbook author and local celebrity chefetainer Ryan Jennings gave me an autographed copy of his brand new book, Entertaining With Booze, which coincidentally was my nickname in college. It's a gorgeous, glossy publication full of great tips, delicious recipes, and top-notch food porn. Makes an excellent holiday enabling gift for your favourite alcoholic.

The inimitable Daddy K bestowed me with this cute Mini-Munny Zipper Pull. I've named him Stan. He may be tiny, but be cautious - he's packin' a shiv. Never trust a guy with a fucking hook growing out of his head.

Someone out there knows how to ride the Rocket.

It's 'Milk'n'Honey' scented, too.

God bless you.

As for the request for your Drysdale votes, thanks to all the folks who have already chosen me among a field of tough contenders for Blogger of The Year. Unlike the other Bloggers who are pathetically begging for your votes today, I'm not going to resort to sad, desperate pleas for your attention.

Not in this post anyways.

December 8th: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2008-12-08T08:02:00.000-05:00

I'm not like other people who remain all humble and silent about their personal milestones, so I'm just gonna come right out and say it: today is my birthday, so bring it on, lovers!

I'm taking the afternoon off to play Wii at 4:20 with my friends, but in case you're running out to get me a present, here's a few suggestions:

the Schick Intuition razor -- Shaving just got a whoooooole lot more exciting. I hope it's one of those "sonic technology" razors the boys have. Yeah, like dudes need a vibrating razor.

Bread.
Butter.
Cheese.

Creepy children optional.

007 Quantum o' Solace video game (Playstation) -- I rented this last week for a test drive and I want my own copy. I can't be with Daniel Craig, but this awesome game lets me actually be Daniel Craig! It's a dream come true.

Yeah ok, I spend most of my time bending myself over and staring at my ass.

Shut up.

Bacon briefcase -- Seriously, I need a place to keep my bacon.

Cold Hard Cash -- so I can finally finish my "I ♥ Pistols At Dawn" tattoo. I couldn't take the pain and I sorta bailed at a most unfortunate time. Apparently this is freaking hilarious to Mexicans.

Your Unconditional Love (photo not available) -- it's cheap and cheerful, and really the only thing that matters to me. I will also be happy to accept Your Conditional Love during these difficult economic times.

------------------------------------------------

IN OTHER NEWS:

Today at Fire That Agency!: BeckEye continues The 12 Ads of Christmas with Day 4...Gold Diggers!

The nominations are in!!! Check out the nominees for the 2008 Drysdale Awards. Also, please vote for me (or FTA!) as often as possible, because it definitely counts as Unconditional Love.

Setting Free the Bears

2008-12-04T21:57:00.000-05:00

While choosing my nominees for the 2008 Drysdale Awards at Grant Miller Media, I couldn't help but notice this banner ad for 100% free Gay Bear Dating in the sidebar.

I was all "no way!" - and not just because Mr. Miller is a dangerously straight man living a peaceful, bear-free existence with his loving wife and children. My problem with the ad is the man in the photo, and his obvious lack of qualifications to be cast in the role of gay bear. But what do I know? I'm not qualified to make a final judgment on the matter, so I called in someone who is.

I scheduled an urgent conference with Rocketradio's Senior Gay Bear Dating Correspondent, Crystal Visions. Ms. Visions is a professional Stevie Nicks impersonator, an avid Gay Bear Dater since 1992, and a rather formidable grizzly herself.

Kat: Does this guy look like a gay bear to you?

Crystal: That's Edward Norton.

Kat: I see where you're coming from, but it's not Ed Norton.

Crystal: Sure it is! Fake smile, poofy hair, big ol' va-jay-jay on his face...

Kat: It's not him. Edward Norton is thinner and douchier. But I'm wondering, as an expert dater of bears, does this model accurately represent your ideal?

Crystal: Well, "ideal" is so subjective. He's a good looking man for sure, but I like 'em meatier and bushier myself. I'd have to see his body... naked.... ooooh maybe he's pear shaped? Or maybe he's got a sexy Buddha belly...

Kat: Please stop touching yourself. I don't know... I'm not convinced that he's hairy enough. I mean, shouldn't he look more like this? (see photo at left)

Crystal: OMG check out that bling. Looks like Sally just robbed a church, eh?! What's it to you anyways? I mean, why are you blogging about stupid ads on some other guy's blog?

Kat: Because Grant Miller paid for my breast implants on the condition that I blog about Grant Miller Media at least once a month.

Crystal: You're out of stuff to write about, aren't you?

Kat: (long pause) .... Yes.

Crystal: Is Grant Miller a gay bear? I might be interested...

Kat: No, he's a polar bear - the total opposite of a bear. Straight, married, kids... I've only seen one photo of him, but he's thin and clean shaven.

Crystal: But he has an ad on his blog for a gay bear dating site?

Kat: Yes.

Crystal: Honey, those are the gayest bear daters of all.

I'm back, and I brought you some plugs

2008-12-02T17:45:00.000-05:00

See? I told you I wouldn't be gone that long. I just had some stuff to do.

Like this:

Rocketstudio has launched a new online shop for Toronto's famous Propaganda boutique! If you're looking for fun and unique holiday gifts, check out Shopaganda.ca

and this:

The 12 Ads of Christmas, Part 1, now available at Fire That Agency!

and this:

helped Stéphane and Jack overthrow Canadian government

picked my nominees for the 2008 Drysdale Awards

completed first draft of scandalous tell-all book

hired lawyer to deal with injunctions filed against scandalous tell-all book

attempted to sell my Pistols shrine on eBay (no takers)

drove by your house. A lot.

Happy Yanksgiving / Idea of Progress Day

2008-11-26T14:38:00.000-05:00

I'm just back for a minute to wish the Americans a Happy Thanksgiving.

Because I'll always make time to post a picture of Turkeyboy.

Today is also The Idea of Progress Day.

To celebrate my love for the Idea of Progress, I have posted this picture of a boy who is dressed up like a turkey and is also acting like a turkey.

Enjoy your holiday(s).

I'm not dumping you. I just want to see other people.

2008-11-20T07:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Leonesse,
I'm not dumping you for 30 seconds of lousy, so here's the note you requested.
I will be back - I'm just busy with work and a little burnt out on blogging, and I thought you all deserved more than a South Park clip for the next couple of weeks.
If there's any guest bloggers out there who are looking to pick up extra shifts before the holidays, send your application to info@rocketstudio.ca.

Ten reasons why I'm taking a break

2008-11-19T11:08:00.000-05:00

1. I just don't want to be in a relationship right now, but if I did, it would be with you.

2. I need some space.

3. It's not you, it's all about me.

4. I need to focus on my work right now.

5. You're holding me back from all the other lives I could be ruining.

6. I'm not worthy of you. I deserve better.

7. I'm seeing someone else.

8. You keep stealing from me.

9. I love you so much, it scares the hell out of me and my parole officer.

10. We just don't have much in common anymore. You're a morning person, and I am plotting my escape.

I hope we can still be friends.

The Green Knight

2008-11-15T11:25:00.000-05:00

Shortly after graduating from university, I took a contract job at a small publishing company in Barbados. I lived in the village of Miami Beach, near Oistens on the southwestern tip of the island, a haven for ex-pat Canadian retirees and American trust-fund kids beach-bumming their way through their youth.

I discovered that living in paradise is a far cry from vacationing in paradise, because island life is very different outside the walls of a five-star resort. I was 23 years-old, naïve and idealistic, and knew nothing of Bajan culture or how to keep myself safe in this exotic new land.

During my first week there, I met Emmerson Paris, a man who would become my travel guide, my chauffeur, and my best friend. Emmerson was an independent taxi driver, tall, dark, handsome, and in possession of an almost unreal zest for life. He drove me home after a very unfortunate night of clubbing, when his taxi passed me on a lonely seaside road while I was trying to escape from a bit of trouble I’d gotten myself into.

Earlier that evening, I had been charmed and disarmed by a local named John Wayne, a linebacker of a man who offered to take me on a stroll down the beach from St. Lawrence Gap to meet his dealer and score some grass. I got what I was looking for, but John Wayne was looking for something in return, something like a free pass to my pants and the contents of my wallet. I clued in pretty late in the game, but I bolted the minute I realized I was in over my head, and when I reached the nearest road, Emmerson Paris was there to save my dumb ass. I told him my story, and after realizing that my reckless behaviour was liable to get me raped or killed some day, he took me under his wing like a protective older brother.

Emmerson was a blast. On weekends, he would drive me around the island aimlessly, finding cool stuff for us to do, like sampling the island's culture and art, in addition to the backyard rum at roadside canteens. He loved to introduce the “new Canadian girl” to his friends and family. It seemed that Emmerson was somehow related to everyone, or was a local celebrity of sorts, because we couldn’t walk more than 100 feet without running into a cousin or an old friend.
One evening just before dusk, Emmerson drove up to my villa, honked the horn, and shouted through my open window:

"Grab yo b‘kini sweet doll, we’s goin’ night feeshin’ on the east side!"

Night fishing? On the east coast? Are you fucking kidding me? I was nervous enough about swimming in the calm Caribbean Sea on the west coast during the daytime, but the east coast was well-known surfer’s territory – strong tradewinds from the Atlantic Ocean pounded waves into rocky coral cliffs, and the tides certainly were too much for a lake swimmer like me.

In spite of my fear of drowning, Emmerson drove us to The Soup Bowl at Bathsheba, a small fishing village and the most popular surfer hangout on the island, and introduced me to his gorgeous young friends, Knight and Badger. They had relocated to Barbados by way of their native Florida, and earned their living fishing for local restaurants at night so they could leave their days free for surfing.

I felt an immediate and powerful attraction to Knight, even though my sensible side warned me to never get involved with a Floridian. He was incredibly beautiful and very athletic, non-stop hilarious, and could have been a male model if it weren’t for the off-putting Michael Bolton hairstyle he was sporting.

The boys gave me a quick how-to with a fishing spear and a net and we waded waist-deep into a lagoon pool that was far more tranquil than I was expecting. Moonlit muscles and two shots of Cockspur helped me work up the courage to ask Knight if that was his real name.

"No, actually my name is Rick," he explained, “but I used to be a knight so that’s what people call me."

"You used to be a knight???" I couldn’t believe it. Get the fuck out! "Yeah, at the Medieval Times in Kissimmee. For six years, man… and I was the best knight they had... until this happened..."

Normally I would have been laughing at his uh,... 'job' at this point, but he lifted his arm to show me a long scar that started at his armpit and worked its way across his rib cage to the middle of his back. Then he told me the story about how he was jousting and something went wrong and he ended up under a horse with a torso full of broken ribs and a punctured lung.

"I was the Green Knight," he said in a strange, all-too-serious tone. "You know who the Green Knight is? He’s always the Evil Knight –that’s the way it’s scripted – he’s the bad guy and he always dies in the end. Oh sure, I’d switch off with the other guys and some shifts I’d be the Red Knight or the Black & White Knight, but playing the Green Knight was always my favourite. Have you ever died at work? Over and over again? Well, it’s a fucking rush, baby."

With those words he stabbed at the ocean floor with his spear, netted a flying fish, and threw it at me. I squealed like a girl while he did the evil laugh thing with his hands on his hips like some kind of badass movie pirate. That was it. I was hooked.

The weeks passed and I became fast friends with the two fishermen, and eventually became The Green Knight’s girlfriend. He would entertain me for hours with tales of his eight-month apprenticeship – learning to trick ride, perform stunts, and fight with a sword. He told me how he used his natural acting ability to make every movement look big in the arena, and described how physically gruelling it was to fight and run in deep sand. He learned how to joust, and how to fight with a mace, an alabarda, and a heavy shield. He showed off hundreds of snapshots of him in glorious full armour. For chrissakes, he had a giant colour poster of himself posed in all-out cheesy green battle gear in his bedroom. He truly revelled in his former status as the Green Knight – the heartless mercenary that people loved to hate – but he assured me, perhaps too often for my own comfort, that he was really a good guy underneath who simply enjoyed the sport of behaving badly.

He let down his guard once - and only once - he cried briefly when he quietly opened up about his “near-fatal accident” with a horse during a practice jousting run.

"It’s a bit like WWF wresting," he explained, "except the horses can’t act, so you’re at their mercy. And trust me, some of them horses just don’t wanna be there."

He harboured a deep resentment for the animal that prematurely ended his career. He seemed to be at odds with The Man He Was Now and The Man He Used To Be. He loved playing the villain, both in the arena, and as it turned out, in his real life, as well.

Like any novelty act, I grew a little bored of the repetitious stories of his glorious knighthood, but after a few months, I had fallen hard for the Knight, since he was the sexiest man I’d ever been with. I knew it would have to end – I was leaving the island when my job was done, but I foolishly thought we might be able to stay involved, long-distance and long-term. But my dear Emmerson knew the real score. We spent one of my last evenings in a tiny canteen in Bridgetown talking about Rick, and how I was enabling him to disappear into his past again, the very thing he was trying to escape in Barbados. Emmerson said beautiful, poignant things that empowered me to end the relationship amicably, without sorrow or regret, on what I believed were my own terms.

After a whirlwind five-month romance with The Green Knight, my contract with the publishing company ended, and I packed up to return home to Canada. Emmerson threw me a top-notch jump-up in Oistins and of course, Knight and Badger were there, along with SIX of The Green Knight’s current girlfriends. Yes, I said six girlfriends. I honestly thought I was a special girl to him, but in reality, I was simply Number Seven.

The other girls knew me well before we were introduced – I was That Stupid Canadian Whore, the one taking up so much valuable time in Rick’s busy social calendar. All of them took great effort to point this out to me, and laugh at my ignorance. What did they care? I was leaving the next day and it wouldn’t matter anymore. Good riddance.

My man Emmerson drove me home that night and set me straight. I asked him why he didn’t tell me about the other girls, and he sweetly replied that I was the only girl who brought out the good side of The Green Knight, and no one wanted that to end, not even Emmerson himself. He told me to forget the bad ending and embrace the "incredible love story you will one day tell your children." Well, I went on to have 3 blogs in lieu of kids, so the story has finally surfaced. To this day, Emmerson remains my cherished friend and confidante, and he tells our shared stories to his children.

I never said goodbye to the Green Knight. Goodbyes are hard enough, and at the time, I just wanted him dead. Over and over again. What a fucking rush.

I'm not your buddy, guy

2008-11-15T09:27:00.000-05:00

This bit from South Park totally slays me. It helps if you understand that in Canada, everyone is either "buddy", "guy" or "friend".

This has been my favourite catchprase for the past couple of weeks. You should see the awesome look of hurt confusion on people's faces when you say "hey, I'm not your friend, buddy!"

QUANTUM OF SOLACE UPDATE: Due to an unforeseen scheduling conflict, I had to postpone my screening of the new 007 movie until the Sunday afternoon matinee tomorrow. I'm hoping there will be a lot less people in the theatre so I can writhe and moan and scream "YES! YES! YES!" without a police incident.

Another way to die

2008-11-14T14:39:00.000-05:00

I'm so very excited to finally see Quantum of Solace tonight, after months of heavy ~~breathing~~ anticipation. Don't worry kids, I'm bringing a date who will keep me in line and make sure I don't pull a PeeWee Herman in the theater. This may involve pharmaceuticals and/or physical restraint.

Fuck yeah!

Join me for a drink!

2008-11-13T13:26:00.000-05:00

Today is the 30th anniversary of Jonestown.

"OH YEAH!!!"

Highway of Heroes

2008-11-11T18:25:00.000-05:00

Perry-go-round

2008-11-10T13:36:00.000-05:00

In case you were feeling all smug about having a better weekend than Katy Perry's furious boobs, guess again.

Not to be outdone by a couple of sour jubblies, her fun-lovin' box came out swingin' on Saturday night.

Be careful out there this weekend...

2008-11-07T13:49:00.000-05:00

Katy Perry's tits are very angry with you.

PMS confessions

2008-11-06T09:17:00.000-05:00

-- I ate almost half a box of crackers while watching Coronation Street and bawled my eyes out because Vera died and I have no idea how Jack is going to manage without her.

-- I also cried during Obama's victory speech on Tuesday night because I saw Oprah and Jesse Jackson crying first. Jerks.

-- I was a total cunt to a woman in line at the grocery store. She saw me heading for the cashier and raced me for position. She beat me to the line-up, but almost crashed her cart into me. She had an entire cart full of a week's worth of family groceries - I had just FOUR items, plus I'm juggling everything in one arm because my knee is all busted up, and I'm on crutches. I found this unusually rude behaviour, and gave her a dirty look. She said, "Sorry, but I'm late to pick up the kids from daycare and I really need to get out of here pronto ... I'm sure you understand.". To which I said: "Oh, I understand. I understand that you think your time is more valuable than mine, and that you take advantage of disabled people to meet your own selfish needs." She started to argue with me, but I cut her off and snapped at her: "Just shut up and pay for your stuff, bitch."

more shameless plugs

2008-11-05T14:54:00.000-05:00

be sure to check out Fire That Agency! this week.

We pre-empted our programming for the U.S. election, but I'm back at it today, showcasing a series of graphically disturbing commercials that will burn a hole in whatever's left of your soul.

We've also got some hot Guv'ner action for you later in the week!

Sorry if you're sick of my shameless plugs, but if you'd just put us on your blogroll, you wouldn't have to put up with this crap.

My Post-election non-rant

2008-11-05T10:20:00.000-05:00

Hello, and welcome to yet another post about the results of last night's election.

I'm quite pleased that Barack Obama is going to be the next U.S. President, as are most foreigners who could never really understand why you guys put Cletus in charge for the past 8 years. But I'm even more happy that all the campaign media coverage is over, and in the coming months, my favourite bloggers will find new and exciting non-political topics to discuss.

If you're one of millions of bloggers who have relied heavily on this election campaign for daily material, you may be feeling a little lost and uncertain about the future of your precious blog. Well, I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of alternative discussion topics to help ween you off the political rhetoric that may have fuelled you for past 22 months...

Katrocket's "Big Dozen" Post Topics

1. Go to YouTube, or Funny or Die, punch the word "hilarious" into the search engine and post the first clip that makes you LOL. This is a sure-fire winning post every time, and it involves almost no effort. If you've made a good video choice, people will automatically assume that YOU are a comedy genius, thanks to your mad skillz in video embeddening.

2. Because the whole world shares your unwavering fascination with your own traffic stats, make a list of all the wild n' wacky search terms that brought losers to your blog for a mere 3 seconds before they realized you were not the world authority on "filipino midget goatfuckers party hat" that they hoped you might be.

3. Tell us how you're planning to celebrate The Idea of Progress Day on November 26th. I already booked a banquet hall and a Whitesnake cover band months ago, but I realize most of you are not that organized, so a simple minute-by-minute account of your activities on Nov 26th will suffice.

4. Show off your sexy, desirable side with a series of posts about your ex-lover(s), and how you're so over them that you're strong enough to call out their myriad of shortcomings behind their back on the internet. Be sure to blab about every private aspect of your most intimate relationships, (especially the super embarrassing stuff!) and try to make it seem like your temporary lapse in judgment was not your fault, as you were likely the unfortunate victim of an elaborate ruse or extreme intoxication. I assure you, if done properly, no one will think you are bitter, needy, neurotic or unlovable.

5. It goes without saying that the blogosphere is an excellent forum for your humourous and/or endearing stories about your children and pets. If you don't have children or pets, weird and/or creepy co-workers and bosses make for an excellent substitute!

6. Pose as a celebrity guest blogger. Don't forget to post their photo and change your screen name - no one will even suspect it's really you!

7. Talk about all the crazy shit you did and/or funny shit you said at the bar last night. People really love that stuff, because it's not like we had to be there for it to make any sense.

8. Review something. It could be a movie, a concert or event, a book, a restaurant, or a disappointing bedroom performance (see # 4) - just make sure it's not an "imaginary review", because The Imaginary Reviewer has already cornered that niche market in the best way possible.

9. Talk smack about other bloggers. I LOVE a good blogger-on-blogger shakedown, even more so if there's accompanying photos of Bikini-Clad You vs. Other Blogger in a plastic kiddie pool filled with jello - even if you're a fat guy. Especially if you're a fat guy.

10. If hating isn't your scene, blogcrush posts can be just as entertaining! I get a huge kick out of knowing who would be your BFF or soulmate in a world without sanity or geographic borders. Remember that fun children's game - the one where you pass around a note that says "Are you in love with Billy?... check yes or no" and then the bitch who passed you the note shares your answer with everyone at school - including Billy? Yeah, those were good times. It's the internet equivalent of "high school cafeteria", without the terrible food and the Popular Kids Who Won't Let You Sit At Their Table.

11. Write a post about a commercial, billboard or print ad that you love to hate (or just plain love), e-mail it to firethatagency@gmail.com, and find a new way to watch your stock rise to dizzying heights!

12. Or you can keep on writing about politics - because the mudslinging campaign ads may be gone, but The Great Big Mess still remains, and I look forward to reading your opinions during The Era of Change in America. I don't envy Barack Obama, because he inherited a very broken country and will face greater challenges than any president in recent memory. Americans voted for change, but it will be interesting to see if folks are actually willing to change themselves in order to achieve it.

My pre-election rant

2008-10-30T09:55:00.000-04:00

I've been following the U.S. election very closely over the past couple of months, and I usually keep my trap shut on this blog - mostly out of respect for my beloved American friends, and a concern that my acerbic opinions may hurt some feelings. Americans - you're super sexy, and I love you unconditionally, but I can no longer stay silent about this: I'm really annoyed with all the news reports regarding long line-ups and technical problems with the voting machines at the early polling stations this week.

Could someone please explain to me why this shit is happening?!!

I mean, thanks to the American media's inability to shut the hell up about it, the whole world has known about this election for a couple of years now. And since there were faulty machines and hotly contested votes during the last election, one would assume that the people who designed (and charge money to maintain) these wonders of technology would've gotten off their asses during the past four years and worked out the bugs.

Of course it's way more convenient to blame the voters themselves with lame excuses like "operator error", but that's ridiculous. Sure, there's always some dumbasses in the mix, but if citizens honestly can't figure out how to push a button or two, perhaps that says something about your fucking polling machines.

Not to brag, but we just had a federal election in Canada (Oct 14). It was called 45 days before election day. There were 5 candidates for Prime Minister, and one televised debate. It might seem quaint, but like most countries in the world, we still vote the old-fashioned way - by marking an 'X' on a little square of paper that contains a list of the candidates names. You simply put your 'X' in the little circle - or if you're retarded, you can put a scribble or a line or a smiley face in the circle, and it still counts. If you can't colour inside the lines, or go apeshit with the pencil and mark more than one circle, it's a spoiled ballot. When you're done, some official government person puts your little folded up paper in a sealed cardboard box with a slot on the top. No tampering, no cheating, no gray areas.

There are thousands of polling stations (sometimes three or four in one neighbourhood) so not a single polling station had a line-up the size of a theme-park ride. We don't even have to be registered in order to vote - you just show your ID, or something with your name and address on it, like a utility bill. The cost of the entire process was approximately 3 million dollars, and yes, a whole lot of trees gave their lives for all the paper ballots. Don't worry too much about that - all the paper gets recycled.

Go ahead and poke fun at our simple ways, but when a winner was finally declared, there were no controversies about bizarro polling machines that choose the red guy when you really wanted to vote for the blue guy. There were no stories of voters being turned away because the polls closed while they were standing in line for several hours. The entire election process was over and done with in just six weeks.

So I'm asking my American readers to enlighten me. Please help me understand all this voting machine nonsense. What the hell has happened to you guys? Was it all that cocaine in the 80s? Remember the good old days when you put a MAN ON THE MOON before anyone knew what the hell a computer was? You invented the fucking AUTOMOBILE for chrissakes, during an era when very few people were educated beyond the basics of reading and writing. So how is it even possible that your brightest minds can't invent a polling machine that works?

I realize it's none of my concern how you handle your elections, but whether I like it or not, your policies, trade agreements and wars affect my existence, too. If McCain gets in, I'm just as fucked as you are, and this is now the third close-race election in a row where the outcome may not be entirely accurate.

So if you'd like to continue calling yourselves "the leader of the free world" or "the best country ever", or some other delusional self-congratulatory phrase, please tell the idiots in charge of your elections to stop being so laughably incompetent.

Let me vendortain you

2008-10-28T18:20:00.000-04:00

Snappy tunes,
Sexy moves,
Billy Sims in flight,
Cockroach dance party,
and a giant egg-laying eagle.

They all await you at Fire That Agency!

rocketradio

I'd totally be there, but I have a lame excuse

T.G.I.Fun

Blackout Fever

Hello! Is it me you're looking for?

I don't remember there being this many cats a year ago

Happy Christmas Wishes!

This is your Rocket speaking

éste es para los españoles

Welcome to Toronto. Please watch your step.

stick THAT in your box

The next best thing to pet salvation in a Post Rapture World

Journal of a New COBRA Recruit

stormy weather

Skygarden: Part 4 - After the Rains

Squirrel is the new Ham

At least my heart is still racing

I'm so excited (and I just can't hide it)

Skygarden: Part III

The Secret Perils of Unitards

An Office Lunch Tip from Rocketradio

Rock-rolling

All-Nude Review!

Beever, 1; Raccoon, 0

"You gotta work with me on this."

post haste

rock yer socks off

ask and ye shall receive

Hot Beauty Tip for Girls and Glamberts!

PMS confessions

skygarden update

cougar alert

buy an angel

a-ha ha ha ha ha ha!

License to Chill

Rainbow Porn

And the winner is....

Buckle Up!

WIN THIS BEAVER!

OMG! it's GM at FTA!

Take this job and love it

Staycation and the Skygarden

Post # 333: Halfway to Hell

Happy 4/20!

If you love Beaver like I love Beever....

Katrocket vs. The Nippler: Soon to be a Major Motion Picture

REAL mutherf*ckin' snakes. REAL mutherf*ckin' plane.

Praising The Lego Jesus, and Other Short Stories

The Beaver will set you free

The first rule about Bollywood Fight Club...

Bond is back, and he's being a pussy

This just in: Amazing Breakthrough in Medical Science!

Wishes really can come true...

make a wish...

Are you annoying?

(exceptionally) Big Love

Fan Mail from Jesus

Everything you wanted to know about Canada (but were afraid to ask)

Decade

More Mail Bonding

NSFW(ednesday)

My reply to Daniel Craig

Daniel Craig wants me baaaaad

Supermodel Thursday (maybe NSFW)

Another reason why Germans prefer David Hasselhoff

The Nigerian Police always get their goat

The Year of Living Dangerously

Morning Announcements

Rack It Up!

Dealing with Whorette's Syndrome

Laundrospat

Bush Defends Legacy In Final News Conference

The King of Cakes

A vote for Wendy B is a vote for Boobs.

Baby's First Explosion

2008 can suck it

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Show Us Your Tips!

A Comprehensive Directory of All The Animals I Ate Last Night

Farewell, Bettie Page

REAL mutherfckin' snakes. REAL mutherfckin' plane.