"This was allegedly voted unanimously by staff at Maroochydore High School in Queensland for use on their telephone answering system. Very possibly fake, but very funny, Also has a serious point that perhaps parents and students should be more accountable and take more responsibility themselves instead of blaming the school for their failings."
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I probably didn't mention this tomfoolery either
Jiggerypokery as in like, Halloween isn't for 31 days, ya know. BUT- if you really want to know, I went to a costume ball in September and the theme was fairy tales. You know me, I'm the goose that laid the golden egg. By the way, those are giant bath bombs that reeked of lavender. I barely made it out of the event alive with my "Golden Eggs". Those of you who know me will know why.
maybe I didn;t mention it?
I had someone draw 2 very beautiful pictures on my forearms. Lucky for me and you we can look at them always and forever onwards. 
I
I
Saturday, September 26, 2009
a little story
So I stayed late to finish and finally decided to ride home- at about 11 pm. I know. It was a bad night to begin with. But I get home, have to pee madly and rummage around in my bike bags looking for the elusive keys to my apt. I give up when the pressure on my bladder is to much to bear and tear under the porch steps and drop'em.
The return to the search for the magical instrument that will allow me refuge in a warm apt remains unfulfilled. It begins to dawn on me that I don't have my keys. Oh well, at least the landlord is home. The lights upstairs are on and I sheepishly knock on the door. More than once. I knock again a little louder. No luck. The only thing now keeping me warm are the tears rolling down my face.
At this point, slight desperation sets in and I try every key I have in the faint hope one of them will work. Panic develops when I realize I may be outside for the night. I ponder my options and realize I have no idea where the closest hotel may be. Is it that run down hole on Kingsway? Do I go back to work? Knock on the neighbors? Go to a friend's? Who?
I walk around to the back door and encounter 3 raccoons fighting for the fat red grapes hanging off the mangled and tangled vine that snakes up the house. Last night's memory of coyotes in the front yard make for a night outside a little less appealing. I try one of the many useless keys and find I can get into the laundry room. Great. I have a tent and worst case, at least I have shelter and now.. tools.
My first attempt to readjust the security bars on my bedroom window proves to be fruitless when I discover I no longer have the hips of a 8 yr old. I try the bathroom window and take out the kitty screen. Yup. I still don't have the hips of a child. This isn't going to work. I'm wondering if anybody has noticed me walking around the house trying windows.
The raccoons are fighting and screeching for territory on the roof. Surely there can't possibly be anyone upstairs with all this racket. I go back to my bike and get my light off and go to the kitchen window. I knew you'd thrown my other set on the floor when you left. I had visions of finding them, finding a stick and somehow being able to cleverly catch them and reel the in like some kind of golden fish that would solve all my problems. I don't see them. Instead I see my apartment, the one that I'm not allowed in.
I get a bit desperate and figure if I can cut the lock that is securing my security grate over the open window, perhaps my 38 yr old hips will fit. What about my fat head though. I get some wire cutters to cut a lock. I'm grasping at chewed on straws, but sweet Jesus it works and the lock snaps. I swing the bar open and get a bench to stand on. With one foot in and then the other, I'm going in backwards and fully expect to knock every dish on the floor or get stuck and that I'm found in the early dawn by the coppers.
I'm able to slither through and land jubilantly in my apt to find that you put the keys down on the counter under the window- all within reaching distance the whole time. It was some kind of weird feeling that the entire time I panicked and cried and hand pangs of desperation, my little golden fish flopped into my boat and cocked it's stupid eye at me and said.. I told you so.
The return to the search for the magical instrument that will allow me refuge in a warm apt remains unfulfilled. It begins to dawn on me that I don't have my keys. Oh well, at least the landlord is home. The lights upstairs are on and I sheepishly knock on the door. More than once. I knock again a little louder. No luck. The only thing now keeping me warm are the tears rolling down my face.
At this point, slight desperation sets in and I try every key I have in the faint hope one of them will work. Panic develops when I realize I may be outside for the night. I ponder my options and realize I have no idea where the closest hotel may be. Is it that run down hole on Kingsway? Do I go back to work? Knock on the neighbors? Go to a friend's? Who?
I walk around to the back door and encounter 3 raccoons fighting for the fat red grapes hanging off the mangled and tangled vine that snakes up the house. Last night's memory of coyotes in the front yard make for a night outside a little less appealing. I try one of the many useless keys and find I can get into the laundry room. Great. I have a tent and worst case, at least I have shelter and now.. tools.
My first attempt to readjust the security bars on my bedroom window proves to be fruitless when I discover I no longer have the hips of a 8 yr old. I try the bathroom window and take out the kitty screen. Yup. I still don't have the hips of a child. This isn't going to work. I'm wondering if anybody has noticed me walking around the house trying windows.
The raccoons are fighting and screeching for territory on the roof. Surely there can't possibly be anyone upstairs with all this racket. I go back to my bike and get my light off and go to the kitchen window. I knew you'd thrown my other set on the floor when you left. I had visions of finding them, finding a stick and somehow being able to cleverly catch them and reel the in like some kind of golden fish that would solve all my problems. I don't see them. Instead I see my apartment, the one that I'm not allowed in.
I get a bit desperate and figure if I can cut the lock that is securing my security grate over the open window, perhaps my 38 yr old hips will fit. What about my fat head though. I get some wire cutters to cut a lock. I'm grasping at chewed on straws, but sweet Jesus it works and the lock snaps. I swing the bar open and get a bench to stand on. With one foot in and then the other, I'm going in backwards and fully expect to knock every dish on the floor or get stuck and that I'm found in the early dawn by the coppers.
I'm able to slither through and land jubilantly in my apt to find that you put the keys down on the counter under the window- all within reaching distance the whole time. It was some kind of weird feeling that the entire time I panicked and cried and hand pangs of desperation, my little golden fish flopped into my boat and cocked it's stupid eye at me and said.. I told you so.
Friday, September 25, 2009
1000th post
I've been busy. I've been pondering and procrastinating on what exactly the 1000th post on More Kisses Please should say. I want it to be fabulous and witty, but did I mention I've been busy.
All I ever wanted to say is the world and me needs more kisses. It's really hard being alive and having feelings and reading about all the horrible things happening down the street and across the world. It's hard being a girl. I suppose its hard to be a boy too. We're all a bit backwards in our pursuits of luxury and possessions.
So, my friends.. tell people you love them. Hug them and tell them they're pretty and lovely. We all need to hear it and for heaven's sake, give more kisses please.
Love Jill.
All I ever wanted to say is the world and me needs more kisses. It's really hard being alive and having feelings and reading about all the horrible things happening down the street and across the world. It's hard being a girl. I suppose its hard to be a boy too. We're all a bit backwards in our pursuits of luxury and possessions.
So, my friends.. tell people you love them. Hug them and tell them they're pretty and lovely. We all need to hear it and for heaven's sake, give more kisses please.
Love Jill.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Dirt River
Personally, in a very heartfelt way- I sincerely believe this is the best photograph I have ever taken. Its a painting.
I went all the way to Manitoba and all I got was 23 photos
I few weeks back, I went to Manitoba in search of my past. I didn't find it, but I did find 23 wonderful photos.
You can see the set here.
You can see the set here.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Bob
This is Bob.
I met Bob, I think the first time way back when I was 19 or so. He was the drummer in a band I liked to go see play at the Commercial Hotel in Edmonton. Back then, I kind of lived in that hotel. I spent my time dancing the nights away plenty of nights back then. My entire view of the band was eclipsed by the bass player though, so I don't muchly remember Bob, except back then he had his own car, and was well, the drummer in the band.
Fast forward 8 yrs and Bob turned up again, being a drummer in a band. This time it was a kind of country band that played a weird basement bar with velvet wallpaper. I remember someone trying to teach me to line dance while I laughed my head off to Bob's beats. I liked Bob, so I lingered a lot and hung around. I wish I could say more* about Bob, but I don't really know more than he's one of those characters that meanders on and comes round and we have a friendship that is nearly effortless. I like Bob and he likes me - I think. Ha!
Bob vanished again for many, many moons. I think he was adrift at sea or something. Then, one day the great equalizer known as Facebook reunited Bob and I again. He found himself in geographical proximity to me and I wandered over to Nanaimo to see him for the day. We should have gone canoeing but we didn't. Instead we went on a 5k hike and I pulled a muscle in my bum. Somewhere along the line, I've pulled a muscle in my bum because of Bob more than once- I'm sure.
Bob came to town. He showed up with his salmon colored canoe and parked it in my backyard. It was good timing because I had tickets to some concerts at Stanley Park's Malkin Bowl. Good concerts too (Elvis Costello and The Pretenders with Cat Power and Juliette Lewis and the Licks opening) and was grateful for the company. That's where I took these 2 photos.
Bob can come and stay at mine anytime he wants to. He was the perfect house guest. He didn't pee in the corners, he made food, he didn't drool on my pillows and most of all he kept me laughing when I kind of needed to be laughing. He makes a mean cornbread too. And, when he left there were flowers and a note. He's like the lover that never was.
*(Oh..but I can say more about Bob. He's generous and funny. Very kind and thoughtful. A talented trumpet player and drummer and of course, an effortless friend of almost 20 yrs and he doesn't snore at night.)
I love you, Bob.
I met Bob, I think the first time way back when I was 19 or so. He was the drummer in a band I liked to go see play at the Commercial Hotel in Edmonton. Back then, I kind of lived in that hotel. I spent my time dancing the nights away plenty of nights back then. My entire view of the band was eclipsed by the bass player though, so I don't muchly remember Bob, except back then he had his own car, and was well, the drummer in the band.
Fast forward 8 yrs and Bob turned up again, being a drummer in a band. This time it was a kind of country band that played a weird basement bar with velvet wallpaper. I remember someone trying to teach me to line dance while I laughed my head off to Bob's beats. I liked Bob, so I lingered a lot and hung around. I wish I could say more* about Bob, but I don't really know more than he's one of those characters that meanders on and comes round and we have a friendship that is nearly effortless. I like Bob and he likes me - I think. Ha!
Bob vanished again for many, many moons. I think he was adrift at sea or something. Then, one day the great equalizer known as Facebook reunited Bob and I again. He found himself in geographical proximity to me and I wandered over to Nanaimo to see him for the day. We should have gone canoeing but we didn't. Instead we went on a 5k hike and I pulled a muscle in my bum. Somewhere along the line, I've pulled a muscle in my bum because of Bob more than once- I'm sure.
Bob came to town. He showed up with his salmon colored canoe and parked it in my backyard. It was good timing because I had tickets to some concerts at Stanley Park's Malkin Bowl. Good concerts too (Elvis Costello and The Pretenders with Cat Power and Juliette Lewis and the Licks opening) and was grateful for the company. That's where I took these 2 photos.
Bob can come and stay at mine anytime he wants to. He was the perfect house guest. He didn't pee in the corners, he made food, he didn't drool on my pillows and most of all he kept me laughing when I kind of needed to be laughing. He makes a mean cornbread too. And, when he left there were flowers and a note. He's like the lover that never was.
*(Oh..but I can say more about Bob. He's generous and funny. Very kind and thoughtful. A talented trumpet player and drummer and of course, an effortless friend of almost 20 yrs and he doesn't snore at night.)
I love you, Bob.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
rapeseed
I know I have been away. I took a little trip and then I had to recover and then I had to go to 2 rocking concerts.
This is canola. I like to call it rapeseed. Some people think that's wrong. Get over it people. Calling it rapeseed is not offensive.
Speaking of politically correct crap.. apparently 'brainstorm' is no longer acceptable. It should be a 'brain shower''. Oh brother.
I'm back. More to follow...sometime.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
just sayin..
Aries Horoscope for week of July 30, 2009
Are you a gelatinous pool of longing yet? Are you a perfumed garden of madly blooming purple explosions? Are you throbbing and gooey and half-nauseous with that delicious sickness some people called love? If not, I don't know what to tell you. By all astrological reckoning your gut should be swarming with drunk butterflies and the clouds should be taking on the shapes of mating horses. If you're not half-drowning in these symptoms, I implore you to find a way to pry open the floodgates.
Are you a gelatinous pool of longing yet? Are you a perfumed garden of madly blooming purple explosions? Are you throbbing and gooey and half-nauseous with that delicious sickness some people called love? If not, I don't know what to tell you. By all astrological reckoning your gut should be swarming with drunk butterflies and the clouds should be taking on the shapes of mating horses. If you're not half-drowning in these symptoms, I implore you to find a way to pry open the floodgates.
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