The toy I didnt get for Christmas

Now that I’m shopping for Christmas again, I’m becoming nostalgic, remembering the toys of Christmas past.
Like most modern consumer kids, I have a long list of cherished toys I didn’t get. Oh, the agony of opening that gift under the tree and not finding that special toy I wanted.
This is what happened with a Cabbage Patch Doll:
Everyone I knew had at least four or five of them. Some lucky girls even had, like, twenty. These dolls were like hockey cards for girls. Everyone had to have them, the more the better.
But not me (sigh). Not even one. So I wrote it at the very top of my wish list in BIG BOLD LETTERS. I left “hints” for Santa in the form of cut out pictures from catalogues, and posted them on the refrigerator or accidently left them on the table.
Finally, on Christmas morning I saw a nicely wrapped gift that looked cabbage-patch doll sized!
But when I tore through the wrapping, my heart sank into my chest when I realized I was not opening a box sent from the cabbage patch at all. I put on a polite smile and thanked my grandma, even as I was overcome with oceans of agony and grief. Grandma had made me a large doll on her sewing machine, with brown wool hair and eyes like mine; adorned in a pretty, blue dress.
After politely opening my other gifts, I rushed downstairs to the playroom and cried, throwing the useless not-cabbage-doll on the floor…
A few days later, the doll was still laying there.
I picked her up just to put her away, but then I forgot I hated this doll and started playing with her. I decided she needed a name, just like real cabbage dolls get. I made a fancy name tag for her, and called her Shelley Marina. I changed her clothes, styled her hair, and posed her prettily on my pillow. And we became inseparable playmates.

Eventually I did get the cabbage patch doll. But it was never as important as the unique, hand-made, brown-haired heirloom my own grandma had made just for me.

Where's Canada's Obama?

I’m really surprised Obama won! Not that he couldn’t, I just figured with the Republicans fixing the election, he had like zero chance. But who knew so many new people would go out and vote? Voter turnout was around 80% in that country, that’s like four elections in one!
So where is Canada’s Obama???
Our federal election went by with barely any fanfare at all. I know it was on TV, but believe me, nobody cared. The only thing on people’s minds around here was Obama.
It’s really strange, considering that if Canadians love Obama so much, who do we pick for our Prime Minister. Why, Steven Harper of course!
He’s about as anti-Obama as McCain, but I guess people didn’t notice they were just that busy talking about the American election.
What a strange, kooky electorate we have here.
A strange, kooky…Wait a minute. That was the plan all along!
Harper was elected as a mean, practical joke. You know how much we Canadians love a good prank. We’d do ANYTHING for a good laugh. Imagine the look on his squirming, waxen face when he’s forced to congratulate and shake hands with a BLACK president in the WHITEhouse. Heh, heh, heh.
Oh, I forgot. He only shakes hands with his daughter when he walks her to school. But no matter, he’ll still be forced to acknowledge a black man's presidency.
What will poor Harper do when we force him to meet Obama? My bets, he will develop a terrible eating disorder and throw up all over the bathroom of the Whitehouse. Then his too-pale-to-be-real-face will regress back to having a that weird facial tick. Then his hand be damaged and he'll be revealed as the robot he is, just like that old episode of Star Trek...
Canadians, you are so mean.

Blogged down...by Halloween

This week’s been so blogging busy; I haven’t had time to pick a blogging Halloween costume! Oh the horrors. Looks like last year’s costume will be like re-fried beans, cooked up into a new casserole with macaroni and sprinkles on top.
I have this very cute, brown, renaissance-style dress that I went trick-or-treating as the Countess of Blood, Elisabeth Bathory.
Yes, I still go trick-or-treating and everyone still gives me candy.
But what can I turn that dress into this year, I wonder??? I could be a princess. That’s about all I can think of at all.
So it looks like the left over’s will be…drum roll. A Princess.
Subject change. My most memorable costumes include Little Bo Peep, the Black Cat, and the Goth Vampire. There are also classics like: the Madonna (the pop star, not the mother of Jesus), the Gypsy Fortune-teller, and the Cirque du Soleil Clown.
Sometimes when I’m pressed for time I don the Mask costume. It’s basically a mask. A cheap one from the dollar store that costs a buck.
It’s hard to believe Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. It’s just that I spend all my time helping everyone else with their costumes and then never have time for mine. My excuse this year is homework. Too much homework.
Like this blog, for instance.

Halloween Mixed Box
I woke up this morning with words of wisdom for ghouls and goblins…
If you’re too open-minded, your brains will spill out all over the floor.
Lost your mind? Better find it quick before the brain-eating zombies do.

Seriously, every year they warn us unwary kids the Halloween rules.
Rule #1: Never eat candy before your parents check the bag. Incase there’s razors or broken glass in the candy. But who listens to that? I live dangerously and reach right into the bag for the best treats BEFORE I go home.
Rule #2: Never Zigzag across the street. You all have broken that. I see everybody running this way and that; it’s really the only way to get to the best houses. Who wants to go to the house that’s all plain and boring, giving out last year’s lollipops anyway? Go for the best and ditch the rest.
Rule #3: Wear reflective colors. This is the only rule I agree with because then you look like a cool glow-in the dark raver.
Rule #4: Never trick or treat by yourself. But what’s a ghoul to do after all her friends have gone home, satisfied with their mediocre half-pillows of treats. I go out really late, all the best candies are out there when you’re the last person at a house, and you get all the chocolate bars they have left.
“The Eye of a Mind makes a Moogie” – The Joker.

Microwaves Cooking Brains

Our visit with the CTV mobile truck unit has me wondering....are microwaves really cooking our brains?
Actual nicknames for mobile emitters: "The Sterilizer" and "The Tuminator." The cameramen using this equipment figure they're getting cancer from it. They turn it off as soon as possible to prolong their lives. OK. Why is our society using this technology again???
The Riddler schemed to brainwash the masses by beaming microwaves directly into the heads of those watching cable from boxes that looked a lot like evil blenders. I'm not scared of microwaves hypnotizing people, but I think they do to a brain what they do to a pizza pop.
(Crickets. Silence.)
Really? Nobody cares if their brain turns into a pizza pop? Is our human mind over-rated? All these years of evolution, dominating the planet, and we've just decided ITS NOT FAIR we're smarter than the other animals. And now we’re voluntarily microwaving our brains to protest this grossly unfair mistake made by Mother Nature.
That's fine, except that the other animals are getting their brains cooked by us too. But wait, they don't use cell phones very much, so maybe their brains are safe after all. So you all wondered how Planet of the Apes could be made possible. When everyone gets brain cancer/too dumb to use tools from use of broadcasting microwaves to watch TV, my bets are on the octopus.