Bet they thought we wouldn't see it coming

I was listening to the radio this morning, because I haven't learned my lesson, and only half listened to the morning patter until 2 words registered as part of the same sentence - Solstice and million. I dropped what I was holding and ran... yeah, I was holding Brat and helping him through another coughing fit. I didn't drop him but I did begin to pay attention. What I heard was not part of some clever sketch. Iceland is apparently holding a Secret Solstice Festival cum concert and the price is $1,000,000 USD. Per ticket which allows 6 people.

I had to do some research on this. It's true. According to one site:

Here’s some of what this one-of-a-kind luxe festival ticket includes:

• Private chartered business jet (Gulfstream G300 or similar) return to Iceland from any destination on Earth for six people
• 24/7 access to two luxury cars, personal drivers, and private security for the entire week in Iceland
• Luxury 6-room villa for 7 nights in the center of Reykjavík over the Secret Solstice 2016 festival week
• Exclusive admittance to Secret Solstice 2016 for six people, including chaperoned access to off-limits areas of the festival site where possible
• Access to the sold out Secret Solstice presents Inside The Volcano event, the world’s first concert inside a volcano over the Secret Solstice 2016 weekend, including helicopter transfers from Reykjavík

A mil, you say? Dang, left it in my other pants. In a previous incarnation 

A mil for what boils down to a concert I don't care about and a hotel room with sheets that will smell funny to me, to have a close up view of something that is in my essence anyway? Pass. For a mil Johnny Depp, Sam Elliot, Angelina Jolie, Baryshnikov & Tim Conway (my quirk, ignore it) better be waiting naked with a vat of absinthe.

But I have a theory.

Here's what I think happened:

A bunch of Canadians were sitting around a frozen something, trying to think of a way to get back at Americans for being, erm, very American, let's say. 1 of the Canucks (Canuks? Is that even allowed? I'm never sure when it's racist to refer to one's nationality by saying their, uhm, nationality) says, "I got an idea, eh? We have all this ice and cold here, we're pretty far north, and most Americans are scarily ethnocentric, yet seem to have a lot of things we want. We need to take over their place, and here's how....festival. Solstice is coming up, we say we're somewhere else, like, I dunno, Iceland. Who's gunna know after we take their money and fly them here, open the door of the plane and there is snow everywhere, eh? We raise a mooseload of cash, use that to fund our own candidates for their Presidency, because anybody is better than what they have up this time... It could work, eh??"

I have no idea if they really say things like that. The last time I was in Canada was 1976, for the Bicentennial. Yep, my oh so patriotic family went to Canada to celebrate America's 200th. It seemed to make some sort of sense at the time. Moving on. 

So he says that, or not, and between the drinking, making that great pizza topping, dodging moose, and putting mayo on everything, they hatch a cunning plan.

President Trebek and Vice President Short 

2016

It's Time, America, eh?

Chicken, chemo, and tunes

This is another one of those things that happened in my life and even I find it hard to believe. I almost feel like I should start it with the old, "Once upon a time..."
But no.
This is more me.

No shit, this really happened....
I was at my chemo session today (😥) and they play whatever music the majority of those in the center like, usually classic rock when my group is there. KTGL is advertising a concert by the group Chicago, and have a completely annoying, makes my shoulders creep up to try to cover my ears, spine tries to melt so I can slither away and not hear it, I want to choke someone commercial. It is one of the air personalities saying, not even chanting, slowly saying:
"Chicken. In. The. Car. And. The. Car. Won't. Go. That's. How. You. Spell. Chicago."
I. Want. To. Kill. Him.
I have been hearing it for a few weeks now, being slowly pushed to the brink of a homicidal spree, but apparently I was the only 1 who had heard it before today.
Those people lost their damn minds!
"That is the dumbest way to advertise a rock concert!!!"
"What moron can spell 'chicken' but needs a rhyme to spell fucking 'Chicago???'"
"I like Chicago and now I can't go to that concert because of that stupid commercial!!"
I listened to the rants, then calmly asked, "Has no one else ever been bothered that there is poultry in a vehicle in a childrens' skip rope chant?"
"OH MY GOD SHE'S RIGHT THERE'S A FREAKIN' CHICKEN IN A CAR THAT IS BROKEN DOWN IN ILLINOIS!"
"That just never made sense to me, and now this guy..."
And off we all went randomly bitching about a kids' chant, when an amazing thing happened.
A song came on. "Dog and Butterfly," by Heart. One by one we all calmed, the two who were too busy puking to join the conversation slowly stopped their individual heaving. The conversation dwindled, and by the end of the song nearly everyone in there, patients and techs alike, was smiling. It is a remarkable gift that music can give, and that song... yeah, you know, that one. How long has it been since you heard it? You should pop over to YouTube, or your ipod, or radio app, whatever, but listen to it again. See if you don't feel better.
I do, even if it is just for a little while, and may not even kill that voiceover guy. Not today, anyway.

Shhhhhh

I received the following plea in my mailbox:

Vicat, I read something of yours about a man who just would not stfu and I have the same problem with my husband Burt. He talks all the time, to himself, or grunts, or makes random weird noises, or sings badly and the wrong lyrics. Anything to avoid silence and it's driving me insane! What did you do??

First of all, Never do what I do. I do not recommend most things I would even consider as anything near what anyone else should even try. I get the most comments stating if I didn't have photos and witnesses/documentation to some of the things that happen to me, nobody would believe it. As I once exclaimed in yet another Only Me situation, "Bullshit! That doesn't really happen to anybody!" But it did, to me, of course.
That being said, this is an easy fix.

Dear Burt,
I am aware that you have a great fear that if you shut your mouth, your brain will begin functioning and that can be a very scary thing, particularly for the rest of us. But I assure you, someone such as yourself should have no fear at all on that account. You're safe. So shut the fuck up and allow your dear family a little peace and quiet before your loving wife ends up on "Snapped," and your kids end up in the care of that weird relative you always forget to invite to family functions but who shows up anyway. Yeah, you don't want them being raised by him. Srsly, SHUT THE FUCK UP.  You'll be okay.

I preform all kinds of public service. I'm a giver.

Evil never dies

"Just when I thought I was out..."

Candy Crush 3. This damn game owns me, and I hate the thing. It makes me feel stupid, even though according to all the IQ tests I've ever taken I'm an off-the-charts genius, am well read, highly educated, and am generally smarter than the average bear. I also have my dumbass side, and my goofball aspect, and I suspect these 2 are in charge whenever I play. But I have to play, because it's an addiction in the truest sense - I don't even like it anymore but I have to play, because of 1 person.
He is an idiot.
I have known him for many years, and he is a kind, generous, considerate, very nice person but he is not smart. And he zooms through these things like a cheetah on crack, leaving a trail of high scores.  I realize that people think in different ways, that those who are more creative than logical don't do as well in this sort of thing, but oddly, I'm exactly 50/50 on the right/left brain scale. So I should be able to beat his score on at least one level, right?
The idiot is a Jelly savant.
And I'm not the kind of person who can just let this go, and be happy for him. I have to beat one of those high scores. I'm petty. And I'm fine with that.
But if they come out with Candy Crush 4, it should be named Soul Crusher.

Orbit Sweet Mint gum squeaks the first minute or so you chew it. Just thought you should be forewarned, in case you pop a piece in your mouth right before entering a situation where quiet is the decorum. Sure wish someone had mentioned it to me last week before I had that appointment...

And today my nephew, the last of his generation, is getting married. I actually like the girl. She is smart, funny, and I get the impression she will take zero shit from anyone. Reminds me of someone I know, she said modestly. But I can't go to the wedding, or anywhere else for that matter, since I'm not up to travel. And missing this... yeah, this one hurts. I am anti-marriage, personally. I find it an odd ritual that basically says, "I love you so much if you ever try to leave me it will take a government sanction and possibly law enforcement involvement before I'll let you go."

 But to Jason and Sydney - All the best of life, always.

Just say NO to the goat

I have a ton of work to catch up since my phone died and it took 3 days to get a replacement, and everyone knows this, so, of course, everyone was blowing up my phone with sidca (shit I don't care about for noobs), so I turned off the volume & notifications to allow me to work without the distractions.
Who can guess what happened next?

Oh, everyone but me.
Well someone should have told me I would fall straight to sleep for 10 hours. Spent the first 2 hours this morning apologizing/groveling to clients. Now, I have World's Most Interrupted Net because 80 fricking trains are going through since they were backed up for several hours to allow one of the special trains to go through, but shhhh, it's a big secret nobody knows.
Snort
Excuse me, when a normal train goes through you don't stop all rail traffic for hours each way, and every single car and engines aren't painted identically in olive drab.
But, that allowed me time to write then read then rewrite this. Why? Because the stoopy tumor is regrowing so again everything I type looks like World's Weirdest Auto Correct and even I can't translate what I thought I typed from what I actually typed. Or maybe I mean the other way around? Well, you know what I mean. Maybe.
Anyway, back on point, I'm against bestiality. I can't imagine how horrible life must be for an animal to be so driven by hormonal urges that they would sink so low as to have sex with a human.
As for the alleged humans:

• No, it isn't consensual if she or he is of legal age
• She or he isn't asking for it or just being a tease
• I don't care if she "was real purty"

Stop having sex with animals and stupid people.

Mistakes have been made

The internet has ruined The Beatles for me. I hear, Ticket to Ride, and all I can think of is that kitty on a chicken. While My Catar Gently Sleeps. You get it.
Speaking of things that are bad for the internet, I made a huge mistake yesterday, when I responded to a message on social media, taking me to task for...pretty much everything.

RabidX: you say you hate the man you married and are seeking divorce, to put asunder what THE LORD has joined, but what would you say if he died tomorrow????

Moi: I'm going with, "Whew, glad that's over!"

RabidX: how DARE you go against GOD'S wishes!!!

Moi: Look, I don't presume to speak for your diety or anyone else's, but I'm pretty sure no god worth a prayer wants me or any other woman to be some sociopathic's punching bag. When you've had teeth punched out, black eyes, broken bones, and been in a hospital fighting for your life after open heart surgery to have a meth head bust in and scream at you because he is out of drugs, then talk to me about what anybody else wants from me. Until then, thanks for your opinion.

So now I'm being bombarded in emails by the marriage crowd. I know better than to even answer some people, but we all make mistakes. Like Trump, speaking of delusional sociopaths. We've made a mistake allowing him to go this far, because nobody in any position of power wants to risk pissing off someone with a lot of money. It's bad for business. But what else is bad for business is allowing someone with no sense of compassion or empathy into arguably the 3rd most powerful position on the planet - the 2nd being Pope, and the 1st is clearly the guy who inspects everyone's underwear then puts those little tags in that says, "I played with your panties, #8." That guy creeps me out, but he is everywhere!

Cake and inappropriate hairs

Cake. Cake cake cake cake tasty tasty cake.
I heard this woman holding forth about "inappropriate cake." That's what she called it. She was referring to "obscene" images and "filthy writing" in frosting.
Well, was is tasty? If so, eat it! Problem solved. You're welcome.
What the hell is an "inappropriate cake" anyway? When is cake not appropriate?
I don't care if it's shaped like a set of testicles, and says, "I HOPE YOU DIE OF ASS ROT/HAPPY RETIREMENT FROM THE WHOREHOUSE"," if it's cake and tasty, I'm eating it. Problem solved. You're welcome.
Right this minute? Taking a bite of quadruple chocolate cake, with a tall glass of milk. Cake - it does a body good. And I did have healthy other food for dinner, so don't even start. Cake.

Hair? Oh, yes. Remember being excited about getting hair in new places when you were a naive young pubescent, then spent the next 40 years trying to remove it until you noticed it was starting to go away, and were relieved? Right. Hold on to that thought. Sometimes it comes back again.
I know.
I found a hair in an inapproriate place, and it is driving me nutso. No, worse than usual. Okay it's very frustrating, then. No, I won't say where... Amsterdam, why does it matter? Stop interrupting! Anyway, I found one where there shouldn't be any, and immediately plucked it. It came back. I plucked again, making sure to get the follicle. It came back. I depilitoried, shaved, plucked, waxed, had an exorcism, and it keeps coming back. And it's white. Not grey, not light brown, not blonde, but freaking white. I believe it has tapped into the Mother Hair Root, somewhere. Maybe I can get a grant to launch an expedition to discover the secret location of the Mother Hair Root, and destroy it. Possibly funded by Gillette.
Finding a hair in a cake would be inappropriate.