' I was walking past a block of flats the other day, when I saw a teeny-tiny car pull into the car park. It was probably only about an inch long. Anyway, the car parks in a space, and an ant gets out. Followed by another ant, then another ant, and so on and so forth.
Finally the car is empty, and I'm stood there looking at nine ants that have just gotten out of the car. I just shook my head and shouted at them "Hey! Can't you read? That sign says parking for tenants only!"

Cold

I have a cold. My head hursst. I'm sniffly, and my spelling has gone downhill.

Got my Goat: Oven Chips.

You want to know what's got my goat today? No? Well I'm going to tell you anyway.

Oven chips. Or fries if we're in the the New World.
I am sick and tired of pouring some out onto the baking tray to find lots of the little slivery ones. Now, I actually like the small ones, but the slivery off-cut ones don't cook correctly. As soon as you see them, you know that the poor little buggers will never survive the 18-20 minutes cooking time. They'll be dead in 10.
11 minutes and you can shave with them.
12 minutes and they're carbon.
13 and they're something beyond carbon.
14 minutes and you wish they were just carbon.
15 and they're carcinogenic
20 minutes and they're pure cancer.

"But Jamie. But Jamie!" I hear you say in that whiny voice "Why don't you take those out early, or eat them when you go to shake the chips at the 10 minute/halfway mark?"

Because I expect my chips to be uniform and available AT THE SAME TIME! I don't want a "little nibble" halfway through, like the little chip-tease that they are. I demand my chips survive the cooking process and arrive on my plate at the same time dammit!
Grr!

I want my goat back now.

Spare.

I was asked for spare change the other day.

Why does this nearly always happen when I have my camera out in town? We're a tourist town, I know, and if you want to look like a non-local then get your camera out seems to be the answer. I hardly ever get asked when I'm not taking pictures of random nonsense.

I was just standing there minding my own business, testing the limits of my new camera to see if its digital zoom could stretch to the far reaches of the Universe (it can't, sadly), when this guy wandered over and said;

" Excuse me mate (see what he did there. He started off by making us out to be friends. Aww). I don't know if you can help me, but my van has just broken down and I need some change to call somebody. You can't spare some change can you?"

Now if he was really my mate, he would have known that it was futile to ask me for money.
A couple of things didn't help with his chances of me giving him money either. First, I didn't really like the way that he was looking at my camera the entire time that he was with me. In fact, I don't remember him making eye contact once. It also didn't help that he stank of alcohol and crime. Real nice to claim your car has broken down when you stink of booze.

Sure I'll give you some change for a call. Who are you calling, the AA? (Automobile Association) Or how about calling the Police to confess to your drink driving.

I wish they wouldn't come and ask me though. Why do I look like I have spare money? I dress as badly as they do.

I should have told him to reverse the phone charges, but the last person I said that to (his van had apparently broken down), he told me to f_ck off :(

They definitely target the tourists for money here. They have a long way to go before they can beat Vancouver beggars though. I think on my first proper trip into the downtown, a guy came up to us and said;

"Excuse me. I wonder if I could just take a moment of your time. Unfortunately, I have the Aids virus......................"

Wow. You beat the broken down van guys every time. I mean where do you go from there? How on Earth do I trump that? The guy is claiming to have friggin' AIDS. I have no way to not give him money and still look like a semi-decent guy. I mean, you'd have to say something like "AIDS? Wow. Me too. And shrapnel in my head. And malaria. I have days to live. Hours even. In fact, I probably won't live long enough to actually pass you the change from my pocket. So sorry. I can't waste what little time I have left. I must dash. Byeeeeeee"
I think I gave the very first person to ask me for change, about two dollars. I felt sick afterwards. Whenever I'm short of change now, I always think of that guy.

I was asked for money NINE times on one trip out in Vancouver. Admittedly, one of those was the cashier at Safeway's, but still. And that's more like attempted robbery than begging. By the eighth person asking, I swore to myself that the next beggar to ask would get my change right in their face. To be fair, they are normally polite in Vancouver. Here, if you politely say "sorry, no I don't", they have been known to tell you where to go, what you can do when you get there, and who with (normally my mother).
Oh yeah! I'm really likely to give you change now aren't I?

There's a "homeless" guy in town who I know for a fact has a house. I have to assume it's fully paid for, as I can't imagine the stress of trying to meet your mortgage payments entirely through begging.

I always feel like I want to see references when people ask me for change. I mean, how do I know they're nice people? I don't want to give money to somebody who's saving up to buy a knife so he can become a mugger or something.

It gets complicated and I really wish they wouldn't ask me.

Do I sound like a bad person?

Monday

I saw my first butterfly of 2011 today. I don't know who was more shocked.
It was a blur of fragile colour and loneliness.
Probably an escapee from the Butterfly Farm (tired of working the teeny-tiny ploughs).

"Children are for people who can't have dogs" ~ Anon