 | | |
| | |
|
Spaces home  Jamy's spacePhotosProfileFriendsMore |  Tools   |
|
Hey everyone!! I've decided to add some of my crappy pictures and I'm anxious to know what you think! So leave a comment or if you read one of my blogs, feel free to give in two cents. I love a good, nonsense arguement. I am french....(No offense to any other frenchies out there. Vive la France! or whatever....) Jamy's spaceApril 24 Shackles of the oldWell, it's me again. I know, God, it's been forever since I put anything on here. I guess I've been wrapped up a little bit and busy, contemplating my life as I know it. Lets list the things I know about me, shall we.
1.) I'm single
2.) I'm unemployed at the moment
3.) I'm broke
4.) I don't have a life.
That's something. To all you kids out there that are aspiring to be just like me, you'll never be able to live up to those standards. Unless of course, you quit trying. Ha ha ha..oh boy, that's pathetic. I guess, if I really wanted to depress myself I'd read a romance novel. Don't they just make you sick? How predictible are those things? I bet you, out of all the romance novels I've read, most of them go something akin to this;
-- Said heroine, doesn't want to get married, ends up falling in lust with hero and they have hot, frantic sex. And upon continuing said physical relationship, she falls in love with him. Hero, the definition of a man, wants nothing to do with said Heroine and after the relationship begins to get a little too serious, cuts and runs. But when he leaves, only spends so much time before he discovers how much he truly loves her and cannot live without her. Insert disaster here _______________________. This disaster can be something from a kidnapping or murder plot, the more twisted the better. And he runs to her rescue, thus declaring his love and ending the story. Either that or she gets pregnant and finally tells him.
Isn't that a load of hooey. It's nothing like real life where the guys get on, get off, and get lost. How much I'd love yon definition of a man ( complete with bulging muscles, handsome face, hot accent, and morals that would only rival superman), to swoop into my little town and sweep me off my feet like what happens in those books. Instead, I get Terry Toothless with his sexy suspenders and shit on his boots. I can barely contain myself just thinking about it.
**** NEW FEATURE**** Quote of the Month
"I wish some beautiful, rich, heir to an empire would move out here. Who happens to be a really bad judge of character." --C.R.
"And maybe she'll have a sister." --R.L. January 22 Say What?Now I was thinking the other day about those old wars they used to have where the two sides would march up to each other, standing about thirty feet apart before stopping, and face off for a duel to the death. If I were indeed a soldier in this army, I'd of been a little more...realistic...then these people were. What, in the name of all that's Holy, possesses someone to stand thirty feet from an enemy and fire at each other? I'd be standing there, kinda looking around...lean into the next guy, "Hey, what's going on? Peace Talks? Why are we so close?" "Ready!" Ready?! What the hell is going on here? Ready for what? "AIM!" Aim?! I don't gotta aim! He's close enough I can see the whites of his eyes and as a matter of fact, he's been drinking because he looks a little bloodshot. "Fire!" FIRE! Fuck no! There'd be one little soldier bobbing and weaving through the lines to escape the madness and I'm proud to say that the little coward would be me. You ask me to march within poking distance of the enemy and stand there like a chicken while they shoot at us, and you better shoot me because I'm running. I'll fight from the trees, the hills, the grassy knoll, but I'm not going anywhere within spitting distance. Which brings me to my next topic: Ramming Speed. What the hell is ramming speed? Is it defined as the speed you attain in order to inflict as much damage as possible to the object that deserved ramming? Now, call me crazy but I'm thinking that if you're ramming someone it's going to hurt you just as much. This is an old sailing thing, when they had the great sea battles in times of old. You're out, in the middle of the ocean, and the captain yells two words that make you want to puke or commit mutiny, "Ramming speed!" Ramming speed? Uh, no thank you sir. I'll just take one of them little liferafts and be on my way, or better yet I'll make one from your desk if we don't have any. Throw in Stinky Pete's leg too while we're at it, just of a little insurance. January 03 Tis the season of madnessWell, doesn't this make me a liar. And here I said that there'd be no more blogs, but everybody knows that I can't keep my opinions to myself. Tis the season for engagements...I think the whole world's gone crazy. First Heather...now Shaun...it's disgusting. Jere in February...everybody's dropping like flies and diving from the frying pan into the fire. What's the big hurry to be miserable? Everyone knows that once you get married, the honeymoon's over. If you're having so much damned fun just being in love, don't ruin it by adding restrictions...chains if you will. That's all rings are, links in a chain. You're chaining yourselves together and pretty soon the warden will lead you out to the fields for a days work. IF you're lucky, the shotgun might even get left at home. Now, don't get my wrong. Yes, marriage is a sacred and beautiful thing...I just don't see what everyone's rush is. It's like rushing to a department store just to stand in line and wait for a cashier to open. HURRY UP AND WAIT! Sure, it's all exciting when you're on your way there...the anticipation and splendor of things to come...but once you get there and it's all said and done, you're thinking, "Was that it?" But that's okay, I'm happy for everyone. YAY! Happy happy joy joy. I'm buying everyone a Safe sex handbook, because nobody's kid likes to grow up knowing that he/she was the mistake. December 09 Is everybody happy?I'd just like to announce that this is the end of my highly opinionated blogs. Yes, the end. From now on I'm just going to write down my daily routine and add a little footnote at the bottom to say if it was satisfactory or not. It has been drawn to my attention that my opinions, no matter how reinforced by cold hard reality, are 100% wrong. Yep, I'm wrong, all the time and I didn't even know it! How'd you like them apples? I for one, didn't see it coming.
Although, to tell you the truth, I can't even say if my day is satisfactory or not because I'm not qualified to make that decision. Just because I've had good and bad days before, doesn't mean I'm certified to write up a certificate of satisfaction one day to the next. I guess that just means I suffer greatly from dellusions of grandure and needed to be set in my place. Well, congratulations because today was that day and from now on...silent but deadly is my middle name. Well, not really the deadly part...but the silent part, most definitely.
I shall suffer through stupid decisions, followed by more stupid decisions, with a silent tongue and a cringing soul because fate has destined me to be this way. Apparently, without being told, the rules changed dramatically over the years by the powers that be and have forever snipped my tongue.
Apparently I'm draining, wrong, and have absolutely nothing to base my opinions on other than whimsical facts drawn from thin air and not my life experiences so far. Because ninety percent of the text books out there were not written by people in office buildings, oh no, they were written by people who go out and live life everyday and know what to expect when something happens. I'm glad that most the people in the large cities have cable and weren't forced to watch David Suzuki, or there would be a lot more bear maulings than there already are (this comes from a show of his I saw, where he stated that a female bear would not protect her cubs and would flee. I wouldn't recomend trying it if you like your face where it is). But THEN DON'T BELIEVE ME! What do I know, I'm just nobody. By all means, go hug a bear and see how far it gets you. I feel sorry for the bear, when sheer stupidity causes it to be put down...oh wait, is that an opinion? Shit, must be... I apologize...I don't feel anything. November 27 Where are you Ebay?Just the title of this blog brings a smile to face and a chuckle to my soul, because it was so freaking hilarious that I can barely contain myself thinking about it. Now, I'm going to try and share that moment with you but I need to get into a little background here so that you can truly understand.
My Grandfather, like most old and retired farmers, loves auction sales. He'll go across the province to buy a box for five dollars filled with junk. He'll buy tractors that won't start and are so old, I'm sure that's what Jospeh was driving when he brought Mary to Bethelehem. If he thinks that he can get any kind of use out of something, be it old rubber boots (because there might be a pair he could match up) or horse drawn plows, he wants it and enjoys bidding on it. He also believes that merriment is something to be frown upon. If you laugh too much because something is funny, he gets mad and calls you a jackass. Think Oscar off Corner Gas and you've got my Grandfather.
Now that you understand that, the story.
Sitting around last Christmas, enjoying a good chuckle at some of the stupider inventions we'd seen on late night TV. My Dad brought up Ebay (he's also obsessed with Ebay. He doesn't want to buy anything, he just wants to know if they have it) and this prompted a discussion about it. My poor Grandfather, who is technologically impaired, was confused. So holding up a hand for complete silence, we all turned and looked at him to answer the questions he had brewing.
"Now, this Ebay." he started, looking seriouly interested. "What exactly is it?"
Now, always ready to be helpful I piped up to explain. "Ebay, is a website on the interent."
He fell silent and we began to discuss Ebay once more, which prompted another lifting of his mighty hand of silence. We had no choice but to comply.
"Alright, so this Ebay." he began, looking serious once more. "What exactly is it?"
I cleared my throat, obviously he needed a more thorough description. "Ebay, is a website on the internet where people auction off their stuff. You can place bids and-" he interrupted me.
"I know what an auction sale is." he started, looking thoroughly insulted. "But where is it?"
Now I'm confused. "What?"
I can see his anger rising but I'm just as confused as everyone else at this point in time.
"This Ebay, where is it?"
"It's on the internet, Grandpa."
Now my mom is starting to laugh, and my uncle. This is not good. Because once someone starts laughing, it soon spreads around the table like the plauge and then someone's choking or spitting tea across the table (family tradition). But their laughter is adding some serious complications to the situation, because my Grandfather likes to tease but if you tease him he gets angry.
"I know it's on the internet!" he practically shouts and bangs his hand on the table. "But where is it?"
"On the internet, Grandpa."
Not a good answer because my mom started to snort loudly, trying to hold her laughter in and so was my Uncle. I began to smile and that just infuriated him more.
"I know it's on the internet!" he practically bellowed, shaking the rafters. "But what town is it in?"
There was no holding it back anymore. The table began to laugh, softly at first but soon we were roaring. I was still trying to explain that it wasn't in a town, but a place on the internet that simulated an auction sale. He wasn't listening to me. He was focused on the others laughing and he stood up, waving his hand in exasperation.
"Oh, go ahead and laugh you bunch of jackasses."
To this day, conversations about Ebay are held in secret so that Grandpa doesn't hear. We have to sneak out behind the barn and when he asks where we were, we say smoking or anything that doesn't involve ebay because it's safer. He always says the same thing, "Oh that'll kill you that bad stuff." but not nearly as much as Ebay will.
|
|||||||||||
|
|
Profile
Blog
Guestbook
Photos
Lists
Friends