cougar alert

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

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!

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

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

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....

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...

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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.

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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...

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.