I don’t want anyone to think I don’t get the joke.

And I like the company.

The Nosefrida.

For removal of snot from kids’ noses.

One end of tube — kid’s nostril. Other end — your mouth.

For real.

I’m mean, SERIOUSLY?? Does that kid not look like having her nose hoovered is, like, the most totally awesomest thing EVER?

[Begin imaginary scene in Jason's over-caffeinated brain.]

[Mother driving minivan. Kid in back seat, kicking driver's seat.]

Kid: MooOOoooom… JUICE BOX!

Mom: You can’t have a juice box.

Kid: But MooooOOoom… [Kick kick kick.] MooOOoooOOoom… COOKIE!

Mom: [Deep breath.] You can’t have a cookie.

Kid: MooOOOOooooOOOOOoooom… [Kick kick kick.] MoooOOOooooOOOOOooooooooo– [Runs out of air. Takes deep breath.] –oOOOooooOOOOoooOOMMMM! [Kick kick kick.] NOSEFRIDA!

Mom: SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I WILL LEAVE YOU ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND YOU CAN BE RAISED BY HOBOS OR RACCOONS I DON’T CARE ANY MORE YOU WILL HAVE YOUR NOSE SUCKED WHEN YOU GET HOME AND NOT A MOMENT SOONER.

[Silence. Kick kick kick.]

Kid: Hobos! [Pause.] HOBOS! Hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos hobos…

[End imaginary scene in Jason's over-caffeinated brain.]

That’s it. I’m naming my first kid “Nosefrida”¹.

…

¹ Subject to Lovely Wife approval².

² Which means never³.

³ Damn. I never get to name anything.

No, I’m not picking at them.

(That’s a lie.)

It may take me an indeterminate amount of time to awaken my atrophied blogging muscles, so please be patient. Cookies may help.

(That’s a hint.)

But, in the meantime…

Is this true?

That… was odd.

I feel sort of squirmy inside having posted that.

I must share this squirmy feeling. It’s like the videotape in The Ring — I must share it or die a horrible yet off-screen death.

We wouldn’t want that now, would we?

(No, we all want my death to be horrible and on-screen.)

So, this is a shout out to my faithful readers — go and write your own stream ‘o’ consciousness! Just start typing. No backspacing. No fixin’ yir spellin. Just start to type.

Then we can compare!

And then laugh!

And laugh and laugh and laugh!

And then stare at each other uncomfortably.

And then laugh and laugh and laugh!

And then stare.

Yeah. Right.

I decided to try that and just start typing.

This is what I got.

blugittyblah my brain be a weirtd stuffhole filled with cheese and crakers and I have no filter on what I’m saying right now so if you read this post you are probably wondering hmmm jason seems to have stepped off the curb onto a fast running street of viscosity and burgers would be really good right about now hotdogs ok but burgers would be fantastic and I think my arteries can handle it right about now so its burger time oh yeah its burger time sing along oh fuck yeah let’s all eat burgers and jump in the creek you like the creek but the creek don’t like you no not since that time that you dissed it at the clubb that was a preetty shitty thing to do but what can you do the creek was all ooh no you didn’t and you were oh yes i did and then creek went off and slept with that skanky chick from two floors down and even though you knew she was skanky the chick was still kinda hot admit it you wanted sto sleep with her but noooooo you never stepped up did you and now creek got there first and what creek wants creek gets so there you are stiitting in the club drinking a redbull and vodka and thats just what you need drunkenness and insomnia no way you are getting out of this alive but you order another and the barkeep takes a look at you and slips a little jelly pop in the drink and it fizzes up and that’s it i am not going to typ th ltttr ” any mor wow thats rally hard and pointlss that xprimnt is OVEeeeEEeeR and this post is going nowhere fast but what can you do when you start on the road to nowhere and your maps are upto date and you have a state of the art gps system you should expect that you will hit nowhere pretty fucking soon but your still like ah shit why am i in nowhere forgetting that that is where you where planning to go all along and thats your own fault but that ok because they have good games there and a sweet ice cream shoppe and you can have two scoops withpeanuts and the peaunts aare prety good but than you spill the ice cream on a kid an the kids mother shrieks o no shes allergic and then everyone is oh no ambulance lets all sing the ambulance song and everyone breaks into dancing and singing and your stuck wuth a shitty chorus part understudying for a crappy second stringer that never gets sick but what can you because its a part and so you sing

And then I realised: my filter is my friend.

Also: insomnia is a social disease.

And lastly: the creek is a jerk.

• Fill My Room! (via Screenhead)

Heard of the Million Dollar Home Page? Some guy set up a webpage and offered people to advertise on it… for one dollar a pixel.

And it’s worked. Last I saw, the site had raised $999,000.

The mind boggles.

Well, here’s a ripoff adaptation of the same concept — but this time, instead of filling a webpage with pixels, this guy is offering to fill a room with lego bricks. For every dollar, one block.

My mind is even bogglier.

I can’t really describe this page. You simply need to check it out:

• “Work Well With Others” (via linkbunnies.org)

It looks like I need to get some supplies. And some house flies.

I was doing freaking mathematical proofs in my dreams.

Of course, I also dreamed I was on the island that The Prisoner was on.

You know, it’s really not that hard to outrun those big white puffy balls. They’re really just annoying.

And Patrick McGoohan is a really nice guy. Very supportive.

At least in my dreams.

But I digress.

Our avowed purpose here is the subject of Zombie Tuesday, and for that, may I present to you — on a little silver platter, with a cup of coffee and scones — this small soupçon to tide you over for the day:

• Where’s the Ka-boom?: “What are you doing to prepare for the coming Zombie invasion?”

I shall begin my journey on the morrow. My spirits are high. I have purchased a camel to serve as transport for myself and my supplies through the desert. (I have named him “Murray”.) God willing, I shall return from my journey through the vast expanse of my brain with some sort of idea for a blog post. I relish the coming adventure.

Day 2:

My journey has begin on an unauspicious note. It seems that Murray does not relish the adventure as I do. I am beginning to wonder if I understood the merchant exactly when he described the beast as “untractable”. (Does that not mean “will not lose a track”? The phrase book is negligent in this area.) Am beginning to wonder at my choice of a camel as a tracking beast. And I am also convinced that camel spit is not conducive to a healthy appetite. However, my spirits remain high. Blog post, ahoy!

Day 3:

Excitement today! Had an encounter with an idea! At first I thought it was the fabled blog post I was seeking, but it turned out to be the memory of where I had hid my car keys. (That’s where they were!) Murray and I had a shared chuckle at that one, let me tell you. (At least I think he chuckled — hard to tell with a camel.) Hopes renewed, we journey on!

Day 4:

My mental landscape seems endless and yet curiously empty, with vast tracks of formless thought and the odd mesa of movie trivia. I have been attempting to map my journey as I go, yet I find the lack of substantial landmarks distressing. Worries gnaw at me when I consider making the return journey. But I soldier on. Murray remains stolid. (What is that smell?)

Day 5:

Murray is no longer speaking to me. I merely endeavoured to introduce him to the concept of mouthwash. Camels seem to have a natural avertion to dental hygiene. Or at least Murray does. I hope tomorrow brings better relations. Did run across the entire lyrics to “Little Bunny Foo-Foo” in the shade of a Joshua tree. Have stowed it in my saddle bag for later examination.

Day 6:

Thirsty. Murray drinks too much water. Has also devolved a taste for my Gatorade. Murray thinks he’s so special.

Day 7:

What a shock! Murray is actually a girl! What I had previously accounted to be woefully inadequate physical “attributes” have actually turned out to be attributes of a feminine nature. Will need to review my previous exchanges with Murrayetta — have I inadvertently offended her with my male camraderie? This puts the whole trip in a whole new light! Tired now. Must sleep. (Does one offer a cameless the choice of pillow? Whole avenues of male-and-female-camel relations are a blank slate to me.)

Day 8:

Ran out of licorice sticks by the Grade-Five English Class Gorge yesterday. Feeling blue. Murrayetta seems inconsolable. Perhaps should have avoided sharing them with her. Damn her alluring eyes. I can refuse her nothing.

Day 9:

Have reached a vast impenetrable canyon, devoid of any concrete memories or impressions. After careful examination, it seems to be the remnants of Frosh Week 1989. The only definite clue is the overwhelming odour of rum and Molson Canadian. Did I really drink that back then? The horror…

Day 10:

Murrayetta is looking at me funny. Not certain if she is determining my worth as a possible mate or as a food source. Either way, my unease grows.

[to be continued...]