I Am Your Canadian Boyfriend

Visit me there. I’m just as loveable.

Toodles!

Apparently, I draw pictures of Godzilla hanging out with an alien now.

Who knew?

Well, I’m working to ensure that something — no matter the dubious nature — keeps this old puppy chugging along.

Starting… well, right now, Ye Ol’ Space Monkey Pants will also be receiving select content from my Twitter, Flickr, and Tumblr feeds.

The house? It is being rocked.

Now go eat a cookie and think good thoughts about me. I’m a cutie.

The month that my work has gone plum loco intense in anticipation of me heading off next week to a conference (in BC! NORTHERN BC!)? And the month that I decided to take a week-long data conversion project and literally the minute I finished it discover that due to my beautifully undiscovered fuckup that every single record was wrong? The month that the amount of freelance work I do has amped up so much so that I needed to pony up for this oh-so-pretty MacBook Pro lying under my fingers so that I could actually get work done while away in BC meaning that the lovely Rockie Mountains will probably be free from my grubby paws for the majority of the trip? The month that my sisterwhoeatspoofortwo finally got over this whole pregnancy thing and actually birthed the wee Nugget mere weeks before my stunningly fabulous Nana finally went into the hospital for the operation that had been hanging over her head for the past handful of years and yes she’s doing great right now but she’s dealt with more crap than anybody should have to — English war bride and all — so anytime she’s not sitting pretty getting whatever she wants I worry?

(And that wasn’t even a sentence but now my battery’s about to kick out.)

And the month that fricking Heroes starts again?

Really? THIS WAS THE MONTH I PICKED??

I really do have some good stuff to write.

I’m just hunting for the time…

Please bear with me…

You’ve been warned.

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…

Huh? What? You’re still here?

Go. Have a cookie. Climb a tree. Get some fresh air.

I’m just gonna close… my eyes… for a sec…

• reasons i love my lovely wife: day 31
• my lovely wife knows who she married
• my lovely wife had coffee this morning
• OH NO!!! THE BARREL MONKEYS HAVE ESCAPED!!!
• my escapist past
• time to cleanse the palate with a healthy dose of odd-toed ungulates
• robot humour is mildly unsettling
• 60 second thought process upon being given a skor bar square
• i am minus all my buh-jeezus (plus a postscript)
• the worst/best joke i know
• how does someone forget to do up their fly?
• my subconscious thinks i’m a chump
• 15 failed precursors to “more fun than a barrel of monkeys”
• the month of me: conversations with my lovely wife
• the month of me: it was a bright cold day in april, and the clocks were striking zombie tuesday
• christmas… now even paganier!
• how to ensure your personal mortification well into your later years
• ten years ago today
• now is the winter of our discontent made glorious zombie tuesday
• it’s my zombie tuesday and i’ll cry if i want to
• truly useless life hacks: jason’s really super useful guide for how to make toast!
• rule of comedy #1
• oh how i hate the weekly world news
• real little boys’ room
• journey through the wasteland
• archery for the young and deathwishy

The Most Linked-To Post on Space Monkey Pants (which is funny, considering that this post actually dispenses information of value and substance, which is SO NOT what this site is about):

• tips towards faster web browsing

Icarus 54
(Full Text of the one-man play I wrote and performed in 1996 and then for some reason decided to post in its entirety):

Scene 1, Scene 2, Scene 3, Scene 4, Scene 5, Scene 6, Scene 7

While pulling a mug out of the top tray of the dishwasher, it taps the edge of a glass. Tink.

The Small One tears out of the kitchen as if small arms fire had taken place

I continue emptying the dishwasher.

While putting two large pots in the cupboard next to the cats’ dishes, I drop the pots and they smash against the floor with a resounding CLANG TING CLANG TANG TING TINGTINGTING!!!

The Large One continues eating.

Impressed with his resilience, I pick up the pots and put them away.

While putting the cutlery away, I drop a fork. The fork proceeds to bounce off the counter TANG! hit the ground two inches from the Large One’s head TING! and then drop directly into the cats’ water dish SPLASH! splattering the majority of its contents onto the Large One and his food.

He turns his head and looks up at me.

And then continues eating.

He has priorities.

• Boing Boing: “Tech pros ask: how can we help with Katrina recovery?”

Reader comment: Erik V. Olson says,

People want to help. That’s good. The problem is they often can’t, but they think they can. And, in the end, all they really do is get in the way.

The single best thing Joe Geek can do is give cash. Not stuff, cash. Cash is portable, fast, and useful. Everything else has problems — even if it is something they really and truly need, because it isn’t there, and people and resources are needed to get it there.

The canonical example: Bottled water. Something otherwise useless that is critical in this sort of emergency. So you give a few flats to the ARC. Well, you bought them at retail, and now, the ARC has to put them on a truck (which costs money) and ship them down there (which cost money, and time.)

Let’s say you give them $20 instead. The ARC notes that they need water. So, they call a bottler in a city close to, but not affected by, the storm. They get wholesale or cost prices, as opposed to retail. For the same amount of money, they get far more water, far closer to where they need to be. In six hours, you’re delivering your flats to the local ARC office. In six hours with cash, they’re handing water to people who desperately need it.

Finally, of course, if what they really need is food, your flats of water aren’t helpful, but your cash is. So, the lesson:

1) Give cash. That’s the best thing you can do from your home.

2) Stay the hell away from New Orleans. Seriously. They’re ordering everyone out, that includes you. Do not go.

Give money. Whatever you can spare. I recommend the American Red Cross.

UPDATE: Amazon has set up a one-click button for American Red Cross Hurricane Relief, for ease of use. Get to it. (Thanks to Greg Storey for find this.)

At this point, I was chatting to someone else about something, and, in doing so, swept my arm out to the side in a flourish of gesticulation. This occurred at precisely the moment that Successful Novelist came through the doorway of the microscopic bar. The result was that he walked in to the room to have my open hand placed perfectly and directly on his crotch. I stared at him wide-eyed: my body frozen in a stance of accidental, homoerotic distress. ‘Ah, Successful Novelist, I’ve heard a lot about you,’ I said suavely, to distract from the fact that I was cupping his testicles.

I left shortly afterwards, as conversation seemed a little tense.

Now the two quotes must fight it out in a Thunderdome-style death-match until the one left standing is truly the quote of the day.

(… two quotes enter, one quote leaves… two quotes enter, one quote leaves…)

This is a picture I took in Lafayette Cemetery in New Orleans because it was the one of the saddest things I ever saw.

And, me being me, it made me think of other sad things.

Which brought me right back to Li’l Brudder.