On the way to Seattle last Friday I spotted a bumper sticker on the back of a car reading “WWTD?”. Since then, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out who “T” is, and why we should pause to think about what he or she would do in our place. Unable to come up with a reasonable solution, I turned to the internet to decipher the sticker because it’s kind of driving me crazy.

Unfortunately, the internet isn’t coming forth with any one clear answer. Among the possible solutions:

• What Would Tom Do? – this was Ed’s suggestion, but mostly because he just loves Tom of MySpace
• What Would Tyra Do? – she came up in Google more than once. I know she has a talk show and it’s somewhat popular, but it just doesn’t seem to fit the puzzle. The car was an older model of Toyota or something, and driven by a guy. It was nondescript in every way, except for the bumper sticker – nothing about the situation gave any indication that Tyra (or any talk show really) played any sort of part in the daily routine of the car owner.
• What Would Tyler Durden Do? – nice try, but there was definitely only one D
• What Would Tebow Do? – Apparently this guy plays football. Does that warrant a bumper sticker? Beats me; I don’t question the idiotic things sports fans do.
• What Would Taft Do? – It’s important to know what think about what the president in 1909 would have thought about your life.
• What Would Tyrone Do? – I don’t know who Tyrone is, but I can’t imagine the need to give it any thought in relation to my own plans
• What would Thor Do? – Okay, I can get behind this one. Especially if every answer is “hit it with a giant hammer”.

None of these seem commercial enough to have a line of bumper stickers, though. It is really bugging me that I can’t figure this out. I almost rolled down my window to ask the driver of the car, but we split off into two lanes at that point and I lost track of him.

Is there something I’m missing here? I’m usually up to date on my pop culture knowledge, but I absolutely can’t figure this one out. Any hints?

Here are some of my own theories:

• What Would (a) Tyrannosaurus (Rex) Do?
• What Would Trevor Do?
• Which Way To Denmark? – while “WWxD” is generally accept as a play on What Would Jesus Do, there’s really nothing that says the letters can’t mean something else
• Wangs Wangs Tasty Dongs – ..

Yeah. Help!

I am not at all mentally here today. I woke up in a daze this morning, and I’ve been quite unable to shake it off. I am sad, and I do not know why.

Boooooo-urns.

Last week I received a bag of toothbrushes in the mail.

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Words
Words
Words

…

I FAKE POST!

River is awesome.

River is, of course, Ali and Doug’s daughter. She’s also virtually the only child I am not afraid of, because she is frickin’ hilarious. Ed hasn’t seen River since she was around 9 months old, so we were long overdue for a visit.

Unfortunately, Sasha’s condition makes it pretty impossible to leave her alone for a weekend. We wracked our brains trying to make the original weekend plans feasible – a concert on Friday night followed by a weekend hanging out with Doug and Ali – but we just didn’t want to risk Sasha’s health and the amount of trouble Lemon would get into if left alone for an entire weekend. Compounding things were the series of time-sensitive errands I needed to run in the US – namely returning or exchanging things purchased last month, before the statute of consumer limitations expired.

We (okay, I) finally came up with a workable plan: as Sasha’s ultrasound was postponed until February 2nd (highly contagious disease + cats = no animals  allowed in vet until weekend is past + traveling radiologist = reschedule) AND we had already taken the time off for our mini adventure, we would cram an entire weekend’s worth of fun into one very long day. We set out just after 9am and made our way south, stopping in at the usual haunts and having lunch at the best Mexican place in the west, Mi Mexico. We continued down the I-5, completing the To-Do list in record time. Then it was off to Ali’s place to hang out for the evening, opting to skip the concert and instead spend some much-needed time with old friends. I think we made an excellent choice, as we had a great deal of fun and River was in fine spirits, providing hilarious entertainment value for the entire evening. Doug treated us to dinner, we played some Rock Band, and around 10:30 we hit the road to return home. We got in just after 1am, tired but happy.

Ali’s explained it once before on her blog, but River has this little joke she plays where she’ll start boo-hooing and sniffling a little, then stop and announce “I FAKE CRY!” and laugh her head off. Don’t forget, this child is two months shy of 2 years old. She faked crying for a bit, then changed it up – she let loose a hearty HA! HA! HA! then followed it up with “I FAKE LAUGH!”. We were in tears – it’s probably one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and as such deserved a tribute post. Here’s to River’s continued hilarity!

Thank you all for the pill-feeding suggestions! I’ll try them out and see what works. I have to go medicate Sasha now, so wish me luck.

I’ve tried for a very long time to hold fast my morals and scruples and ethics, but at the end of the day all it gets me is a smug sense of self-imagined superiority and no fun toys. I don’t make any money off my website and will continue to stand firm and proud in my clearance bin pants and ramen noodles, but as of today I will officially be accepting products from various companies in exchange for a review or shout out.

I’ve done this in the past, of course, but on a more discreet scale. For some reason I’ve always felt slightly awkward about placing the Delicious Juice Stamp of Approval on things for fear of selling out to the man, but when you really look at it, who the hell is ever going to look for my personal thumbs up before they try something? I’m usually awash with false modesty, but let’s be realistic here: no one reads my website to learn about advances in personal gadgetry; they come for the hardcore nudity and swearing and also for the flow charts.

I feel that I must stress – probably needlessly, but I didn’t become a millionaire on my ability to hold things in – that my words will not change in any way. My style is still very much my own, regardless of what I’m writing about. Mops or boobs, fabric softener or scooters – it’s all Kimli, all the time. I don’t feel any sort of pressure for or against saying things like “this frozen creamed spinach is fucking awesome; I would totally have sex with it if I was ever in the mood to have carnal relations with leafy plants from Nepal” or to stop making broad sweeping generalizations with sly references to Star Trek and comic books I read once when I was 11. It’s all good. It just means I have a few more mystery packages on the way.

You’ll still love me if I sell out a little bit, right?

I don’t ski or snowboard or do anything that requires me to voluntarily be wet and cold, but even I hate the bastards getting off the Seabus at 8am with all their gear. Why should they get to have fun frolicking on a mountaintop while I am at work wrestling with routers (literally; I fight under the name El Gato sin Pantalones)? I call shenanigans on them, the lousy slackers.

I am amused to find myself slightly obsessed with tulle. After all, tulle played a large part in the saga of my wedding dress woes – there was frankly too much of it, and my mind broke. At the time, I never wanted to see tulle again. Fast forward to today – I want tulle. Lots of it. I want a series of increasingly fluffy skirts, each with many layers of tulle in fabulous colours. I am well aware of my own home ec shortcomings and inexplicable fear of my sewing machine, but I really think I could make myself a tulle skirt very easily. I am tempted to try, and I bet I could convince Miranda to be my partner in crime as she knows her way around both the fabric store and a sewing machine. This could happen. It could be glorious, in a way probably only I can truly appreciate.

Last night I did some thinking about my recovered wallet and the bizarre shit filed under “things that only happen to Kimli” that came with it. The money that was in my wallet was long gone, which was entirely expected. What wasn’t expected was the fact that my prescription was also missing. I got everything back (and promptly cut up all the credit cards), but my refill for crazy pills wasn’t there. I’ve already replaced the prescription and am basking in my chemically induced sanity, but that’s weird. Who takes a prescription in someone else’s name? It’s not like you can fill it or get high off it or anything.

Along that line of thought, who admits to taking the cash in the wallet, takes the small reward you offered (after initially refusing it), then calls you up after you leave to attempt to extort more money out of you?

That guy, apparently. Watch out for him.

Every single overhead light in the Lab was on this morning.

We are nocturnal nerds, and we like to work in the dark. Imagine my shock and dismay when I came into work this morning to see every single fluorescent light on – this lighting does nothing for my complexion, or my head because I get stupid migraines when forced to work under fluorescents. Luckily, they were all turned due to the fixtures being replaced and as I whine, a man with a ladder is coming around and removing bulbs for those people who prefer to work by radar and braille.

Josh introduced us to a delicious Japanese candy called Puccho, and on Sunday we were delighted to discover a cache of previously undiscovered Puccho flavours at the Japanese store on Robson. We stocked up and traded flavours, basking in the chewy goodness. There is no English on the wrapper, so we had to determine the flavour based on the pictures on the labels:

delicious puccho!

I haven’t tried most of these yet, but near as I can tell we have:

• White
• Horseback-Riding Strawberry
• Peach
• Babushka Orange
• Fish-Squirting Pea
• Sherlock Blueberry
• Ski Jumping Apple
• Horrific Oozing Monster
• Elvis

Not shown: Patriotic Banana, Grape

Delicious!

Oh, and I got my wallet back. The retrieval was .. odd. I have it back though, and that’s all that matters. So what if I feel a pressing need to double-bolt my door? It’s all good. Wallet is safe and stapled to my person, and that is all that’s important.

Happy Obama Day, everyone!

Missing wallet aside, Indie I Do was friggin’ awesome.

Shan and I worked the door the entire day, but it didn’t feel at all like work – it was a blast. We had so much fun! There were so many funky pretty things at the show that I almost wish we were getting married again just so I could incorporate all the local awesomeness into our wedding. Rave reviews are rolling in, so check the Indie I Do website for links to the love. It was a total blast!

Out of all the vendors there, my favourite was probably the photobooth. You can rent a booth from Photobooth Vancouver to have at your event, and people get awesome little pictures of themselves right away – just like the booths you see in malls, but way cooler. We had a little too much fun with the booth towards the end of the day:

Vancouver Photobooth rocks!

More to come, but I really have to go to Richmond now. :(

I’ve gone and lost my wallet.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a simple issue of a misplaced item and a forgetful Kimli; I really did go and lose my wallet. Near as I can figure, it fell out of my bag between the Delica and Heritage Hall (about 1/4 of a block) around 10am. I don’t know how long it sat on the ground before someone picked it up, but whoever has it called Visa last night and said “hey, I have this card from this wallet I found”. Visa told them to drop the wallet off at a police station, then called Ed to let him know. I had no idea my wallet was missing – Ed called me at 6 and asked me to look for my wallet. Yep, gone. No wallet.

I’ve never lost my wallet before. I’m choked about it, because it is a huge hassle. I had just taken out $60, it’s my favourite wallet, and probably worst of all – my prescription for crazy pills was in there, as I had planned on filling it today. I am grateful that whoever found my wallet called Visa, and I really really hope they take it to a police station as asked. I actually have no idea how I would go about recovering it, though. I’m not in the phone book, I don’t have a (very big) criminal record, and most complicated of all – I don’t have a home phone number. Googling the name on my driver’s license gets you nowhere, and although my Delicious Juice business cards are in my wallet, you’d have to dig to find them. If my wallet DOES show up at the police station, how would they find me short of coming to my house?

This sucks. What do I do now?