Olive the Other Reindeer

Christmas dinner with Mother and Drunk Bernard. What a nice affair it was. We had it catered by Apples and Pears. The food was great as usual. My favorite was the truffle smashed potatoes. My dining companions, well, they were creepy and unsettling as usual. Drunk Bernard made his annual peace offering to me. He gave me a Flip Mino HD camcorder, which I pretended to not like even though I like it very much indeed (feigning disinterest is the most assured way of getting increasingly expensive gifts year after year from D.B.). The best gift he gave me though was these rubber key thingies called Keytars.

Quick Quiz:

1. I chose the British flag Keytar because:
a) I am forever loyal to the Queen - Long live the Queen!
b) I am an Anglophile (and I believe we each have a pair of Anglos on our shoulders recording our every thought, hope, and deed).
c) Because when Mother attempted to attach the other 4 Keytars first, they split down the middle like so much low-quality fruit leather.

Here's a fun fact: As an amputee, I am unable to take keys on and off of key rings.
Fun Fact #2: Mother has her two original hands (as of this posting) and yet she, too, struggles greatly with removing, affixing Keytars, and replacing them onto the key ring, thereby needlessly mutilating the Keytar I actually wanted on my key ring ("Mother, you don't need a screwdriver to get the key off!!! You're ripping it!!!").

2. Eating fruit leather is like having sex because:
a) When it's good, it's great, and when it's bad... it's still pretty good.
b) In less than ideal circumstances, they both have the potential to result in awkward trips to the Emergency Room (or oddly shaped mouth sores).
c) They both involve massive amounts of fruit leather.

3. My brother couldn't make it to dinner because his girlfriend's kid had to go to the ER because he cut his hand on the Christmas tree stand (er something). Oliver's girlfriend, Jackie, is a slut because:
a) She is the only person I know who has had two kids by three different fathers.
b) Actually, she just has two different kids by two different baseball teams (one of which was semi-pro - impressive).
c) She isn't a slut, but I just don't like her and when two women don't like each other very much, they tell everyone else that that person is a slut. And when one of those women is trying to be clever, they camouflauge their disdain for the other woman by using a Quick Quiz format (very clever indeed).

Holiday Tips!

With the Canadian government in complete chaos and economic hardships spreading throughout the land, people are looking for simple solutions to stretch their holiday budgets. Here at Standing in Line to Diet Soap, we have found the solution - fractals. Using fractal geometry, we were able to save money by maximizing the surface area of this common serving platter to fit all of our deviled eggs at our recent holiday celebration. And, no one ate any! They were too busy hitting on the new intern.

Merry Christmas!

xxxxxxxx

Olive

uh-member me?

dear legion of admirers:

i am sorry for my recent absence from the web. here are two clues to explain this misfortune:

1) i recently started medical school; and
2) i may have made a very large mistake.

please keep me in your thoughts. please don't pray for me. no god can save me now.

xxoo

O.D.

Around the World with Olive!

For a long time, I've resisted numerous offers to write a travelogue of sorts. An open postcard, if you will, to share my vast knowledge of the many splendors this crazy blue marble has to offer. Well, I'm weak. I just signed on with a reputable on-line entity to do just that. But, rather than prostitute myself and promote their website, I will simply re-print my essays and lists here so that you too may benefit from my sojourns. First up - the good ol' USA!!!

A United States of Mind
By Olive Duster
*title added by editor who is known in the office as "the brooch lady" on account of all of her colorful and whimsical brooches that she wears, mostly of angels doing unexpected things, like using their halos as hula hoops, or an angel whose halo is in the shape of a jack-o'-lantern.

So, you've decided to visit the States! Wow, you're in store for quite a treat. They are approaching their presidential election between John W. McCain and Barry Obama (middle name is Husssein, in case you weren't scared enough yet). If you're lucky, you might just get swept up in the "Get Out the Vote" mayhem that has the country in it's icy grip.

But, if politics isn't your game, you'll be pleased to learn that a plethora of global revolutions have emerged from the "country on the hill"; there is something for every kind of afficianado. Did you know that the automobile was created in the United States by a man named George Washington Carver, yet he is most well-known for his love of peanut butter? Consult your favourite travel experts for a more comprehensive list of fun facts and exciting destinations in this "melting pod" of a country!

But be forewarned. With democracy comes great personal peril. Here are some not-so-fun-facts-about-America:

1) Did you know that every 6 weeks, some unfortunate is actually shot with a bullet from what American citizens refer to as "personal firearms"?

2) People pay good money to watch other people drive cars real fast in a circle. These people have strong opinions about who drives which car the best. It's a sport there.

3) Some people can actually see Russia from America, and Russia is scary.

4) Nebraska is part of the US of A, yet no one seems to know dick about Nebraska. Why is that, Senator Nelson? Maybe so we don't all see your plans to open foreign markets to your cattle your so damn proud of? Isn't Nebraska where they filmed Children of the Corn, Part IV - The Shucking?

5) Mariah Carey and Celine Dion are there.

That's all. Don't forget to bring plenty of bug spray and try to avoid raising the ire of the locals (they have personal firearms there).

Happy travels,

O.D.

Ask Olive!

My chief adversary and confidant, Gail Horning, former dancing great, writes me three or four brief queries a week, not to mention numerous call-in questions that often go unanswered. However, once in a while, I will allow my followers to partake in the deliciousness of her insanity. Here goes:

Dear Olive,

I'm really worried about the economic crisis and how it might affect retirees like myself down here in Boca Raton, Florida, USA. What are your thoughts?

Your former dance teacher,

Gail "Former Dancing Great" Horning

_____________

Dear Gail,

There is no such thing as an economic crisis. We must look at times such as these as "oppor-tuna-ties" and not "panic-ities."

Look, remember Harry Browne? In 1974 he released his classic and prescient tome, You Can Profit from a Monetary Crisis. Read it, live it, and turn panic into profit. Or you can read his lesser known book, You Can Profit from a Monastery Crisis, a not-so-prescient book in which the prominent Libertarian foretold of a world without monks and robots controlled the opium drug trade out of Afghanistan.

Either way, please stop calling.

Your pepperpot,

Olive Duster

Saved by lithium

Remember how in Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children Saleem's telepathic powers were eradicated when his "father" tricked him into getting sinus surgery? If I recall, Ahmed Sinai loaded his wife, Saleem, and his sister, "The Monkey", into the Land Rover with a story of going to the beach for a picnic with just a quick stop en route.

Here's the thing. In my clandestine post a couple of months ago, I informed you, my own personal conference attendees, that Kieran, my thought-field therapist, had me beeping, bopping, tapping, boffing to the Nine Gamut and avoiding computer access (and cell phone access, and access to my friends and family), as this was the likely root cause of all of my psychological afflictions.

I admit that the adventure across Western Canada was fun. For example, in Alberta (where we spent 2 long weeks in local camp grounds), we attended the Canadian Professional Chuckwagon Association Finals, all four days of it. I got my face painted (Kieran paid - how sweet). Then we treked all over rural Canada. Kieran wouldn't stop singing Animal in Your Care by Wolf Parade ("It's in this language that I found..."). All the while, I dutifilly tapped and hummed, feeling weird, but exhilirated that someone finally got me (or brainwashed me).

Here's the thing. We had been gone so long that I had forgotten to replace the lithium ion battery what powers my prosthetic hand. So when that died, I couldn't do the tapping routine carefully set out by Kieran. He tried to get me to do it with the other hand (he tried to get me to a lot of things with the other hand), but I couldn't get into it. Once I stopped the therapy, I slowly realised - this guy is a fudging nut-job! And it is in that sense that I am like Saleem Sinai and in that regard that I was saved by lithium.

Love to you all. I am back home and ready to blog.

Tapped out

I have been negligent in my posting and I am only writing now in secrecy. For the last 3 months I have been traveling throughout Western Canada with my thought field therapist, Kieran. He told me that the repetitive tapping and clacking of my fingers on the keyboard may actually be responsible for my personality disorder. Apparently, constant typing, particularly with the index finger of the left hand, can cause a blockage of my Qi. He has had me on a steady diet of the "nine gamut." It makes me look like I have a tic disorder, but I think it's working. Plus, I think he's been hitting on me, rubbing my back and whispering Robert Frost poems in my ear while I roll my eyes, hum, and tap my stomach over and over again. He says it's all part of the therapy. I keep wondering when he's going to tell me about the spaceship hiding behind the comet waiting to receive us at the end of the decade. Plus it's costing a fudging fortune. But he says it's worth every penny.

I'll write more after Alberta.

Olive The Musical!

You know how when a musical note is sounded at, let's say 120 Hz? You know how all of the overtones are multiple integers of the fundamental tone of 120 Hz so that the overtones would be at 240 Hz, 360 Hz, 480 Hz etc.? Well, did you also know that if a synthesizer is programmed to play just the overtones without the fundamental tone, your brain would artificially register the missing tone? This is referred to as the "restoration of the missing fundamental." Well, it turns out the same thing happens at parties...

Cunty: That housewarming was a riot.
Dum Dum: I know. I think I had like 4 mojitos.
Cunty: You're so lucky you're not pregnant anymore.
Dum Dum: I know. Olive, you were so funny with that doorman. I thought I was gonna pee
my pants.
Cunty: Olive gets so freaked when people say shit about her hand. I thought you were
gonna deck that guy. Did you guys see John's suede couch? What the hell was that
about? Should we order some poppers?
Olive: Uh... I didn't go, remember?

NEWS FLASH!

I'm bored...

Those Amazing Dolphins!!!

Wow! Those adorable dolphins are back in the news! The seemingly harmless, gentle sea critters have set the scientific community on its ear once again, per a recent story ....Diet Soap obtained today from Internacional Press Associatos. According to Dr. Marcello Abogado, Chief Scientist at the West Indies Aquatic Science Centre, March 24, 2008 marked a milestone in a recent breakthrough in the interpretation of the mammal's infamous "echolocation clicks" and "burst-pulsed signature whistles" previously thought to be a form of self-identification among dolphins, the "Mayors of the Sea."

Dr. Abogado explained, "Today, we have successfully beta tested a complex computerized system for translating dolphin whistles into human language, a feat once thought of as impossible."

The news conference took an unexpected turn, however, when Dr. Abogado balked at the possibility of sharing these amazing new insights with the general public for surprising reasons. "After translating numerous streams of 'dolphin-speak', we have concluded that releasing of these transcripts to the populace-at-large could cause unforeseen problems." When pressed for an explanation, Dr. Abogado simply said, "Look, all we've recorded so far appears to be a crude mixture of racial epithets and curse words. One of the scientist's children accidentally heard the translation and, well, he's shown unusual changes in his behavior." Later, Dr. Abogado explained the boy, a 6 year old, has taken to smearing and ingested his own feces.

Other fun facts divulged by Dr. Abogado:

1. Aside from humans, dolphins are the only animal who manufactures highly addictive drugs. Known among scientists as "crubble", this substance is 10 times more potent than crack-cocaine and is derived from an precise mixture of plankton, ammonia, and baking powder!

2. Dolphins often sexually abuse sea animals much smaller than themselves, not for sexual gratification, but for their own personal amusement!

3. Dolphins are notorious smearers of feces!

4. Dolphins are responsible for 350 human deaths per year!

5. Dolphins store unused crubble in a nasal air sac and quickly snuff it through their blow hole, resulting in a near instant high that can last as long a 8 hours!

6. The only good dolphin is a dead dolphin!

Well, well, well...

Seems like Hillary's got some explaining to do.

Recently, the National Archives released over 11,000 pages of Mrs. Clinton's schedule when she was first lady. Here are some of the shocking revelations contained in the documents:

1) When Cuba Gooding Jr. was winning his Oscar for Best Supporting Actor at the 1997 Academy Awards ceremony for his role as "Billy" in "Jerry McGuire", Mrs. Clinton was hosting an "Oscar Party" at the White House. What else is she hiding?

2) Mrs. Clinton's schedule reveals that on June 3, 1998, while Germany was waking up to news of the Eschede train disaster, the world's deadliest high-speed train disaster, Hillary Rodham Clinton was hosting a consortium on children's health care. Guess she cares about health care, that is, unless you're a German child heading home from the hospital in a high-speed train, right, Mrs. Clinton?

3) While Bill Clinton was in a closed NSA meeting, Hillary Rodham Clinton, potentially the next leader of the free world, was reading the newspaper while, get this, eating breakfast!!! "Sorry, Ahmadinejad. I'm sure it's an emergency - it's 3 fucking a.m.! But I still got half of the funnies to get through." Right, Mrs. Clinton?

Well, well, well. Well, well, well. Well?

I win!!!

Wow! I can't believe my good luck! I just got a call from my lawyer. Guess what! The government of a small island nation (that I am prohibited from naming under terms of the settlement) was forced to cough up an extra $4200 to yours truly (before my lawyer takes his cut, of course). Roughly .005 percent of the total settlement (I can't disclose the exact amount) meted out approximately 11 years ago, this unexpected windfall came about after the government of my home country launched an exhaustive accounting investigation into the distribution of all monies awarded by this shitty backwards country to citizens of my equally shitty country (but with a larger military).

You know, maybe they have finally made up for their negligence that resulted in the loss of my hand and my father's life. Just think of all the shit I can do with this much cash! Here are a few ideas:

1) I can put a down payment on a Skidoo (finally).
2) I can afford a week long vacation visiting the empty square of scorched earth that used to house a giant warehouse for cheap carom products and other knock-offs.
3) I can rent a billboard downtown and erect a 2 story high hand giving God the finger.
4) Does "240 Webkinz" mean anything to anyone out there?
5) I can fuck the Governor.

Do you believe this shit?

Milestone!

Everyone! Let's celebrate me!

The last post was my official 100th post! Not only that, I have now hit the 1000 pages viewed mark!

Here are some other notable milestones I have recently reached:

1) Mother has been sober for 14 days now - that's 2 consecutive weeks.
2) I haven't menstruated in 23 days!
3) I still have a robotic hand!
4) I have now attended 10 psychotherapy sessions with a man who thinks I have a personality disorder!
5) I have been officially diagnosed with personality disorder for the past 48 days!
6) No one has one the "Dear Mr. Jesus" contest yet!
7) I only have 4 plastic novelty hook and ...Diet Soap butter knife sets left!
8) I now own two copies of Richard Marx's autobiography, Life on the Dotted Line, both given as gag gifts from my dumb frends.
9) Honey Nut Cheerios are the new Cinnamon Toast Crunches.
10) I can't tell when healthcare professionals are hitting on me versus just doing their job!

Well, let's hope there's 100 more posts to celebrate. Send me a congratulations comment and you just might find yourself in the drawing for a plastic novelty hook and butter knife set poorly autographed by yours truly.

Love and rockets.

Open Letter to Governor Spitzer

Dear Client 9,

Wait! It's not too late. We can still salvage your term. Here are the top three ideas that came out of my recent pow-wow with some of your country's greatest political thinkers. Our plan in general? Divert your constituents' attention. Here's how:

1) Invade a terrorist state. My vote is for Connecticut.

2) Have staffers leak a story about how a nondescript dark-skinned male abandoned the prostitute in the back of your cab. Use key phrases in your description to ensure believability such as "dark-skinned", "medium build" and "knit cap". "What was I supposed to do? She had been abandoned!"

3) Don't run from the problem. Turn it on it's head - confuse them. Your personal plight underscores the urgent need for your unheralded initiative - mandatory driver's licenses for all illegal commercial sex workers.

If it helps, I know how you must be feeling. I, myself, have been called a hooker (by my brother) on account of my prosthetic hand that used to be a hook and is now an iLimb. I, too, come from a broken home (on account of my father perishing in the warehouse fire what took my hand and my mother subsequently developed a drinking problem which has, for the moment, resolved status post her hysterical-ectomy, which is not, as one might presume, a good thing) and I am an aspiring singer (or whatever).

Spitzer Swallows?

Swallows, although I've never had sex with live birds before...

Sorry, everyone. This is a private matter. It's between me, my wife, and 3 million people who voted for me. Would you judge me any better if I said it was a "high-class" prostitution ring?

Come on, Spitzer. You could at least have gone with a prostitution co-op.

______________

See, Homeless, I can be political too.

Say it ain't sober!

In addition to the other weird shit that Mother has been doing since quitting the booze, recently she has begun awkwardly trying to strike up conversations with me. Here are actual segues and conversation-starters Mommy has used with me since her "procedure":

1. Bernard says ducks and the like descended from dinosaurs. Can you imagine, Olive (1)?

2. Tell me something. Dr. DiClemente (2) said you might have phantom pains periodically (3).

3. Fossil makes some snappy watches (4).

4. Have you ever seen really hardcore porn - you know, where the actors swear at each other and wear masks (5)?

5. I don't know about you, but I could murder a champagne truffle (6) about now. Where is that boy (7)?

Please, God, it was easier when she was drunk all the time.

________________

Footnotes:

1. Can I imagine you and Bernard having sex? Because that's all I can think about when you mention this creep's name.

2. Dr. DiClemente is the asshole who couldn't "save" my hand.

3. Was that a question.

4. Since when did Mother frequent Dendlo's Shopping Mall?

5. I...

6. Actually, a Teuscher's champagne truffle sounds pretty good.

7. Mother's pet name for all waitpersons, even when they are female and adult, as in this case.

Move over, Bacon...

I think Mother is starting to crack. I know I am missing her alcohol-induced blackouts. Last night - this is actually awkward for me to reveal - last night, Mommy came into my room and asked if she could sleep with me.

She is the only person who could make a 6000 sq. ft. apartment feel like a studio.

After the tone...

Here are 3 of the 4 actual messages on my answering machine at this moment:

1. Olive, sweetie, it's Mummy. Oh, honey, pick up, I need you. Bernard has locked us out of his Lexus and, honey, I'm afraid we're going to be mugged or molested in some way. Could you meet us at the Uptown Theatre with his spare keys? Lunch is on us.

Where to begin. Mother has Bernard's spare keys to his car. Hmmm... Mother is afraid of being "molested" at 11 am in the downtown theatre district. Mother has not slurred any words (e.g., "schweedie" for "sweetie"). I did not pick up.

2. Hey, Ma. Could you stop calling me at Jackie's place? You're freaking her out. Use my cell. Don't call Jackie's cell. Call me directly. 'Kay? Don't call me at Jackie's. Bye.

My brother, Oliver, referring to his loser girlfriend. Jackie has 2 kids from 3 different fathers. Jackie has a tattoo of an angel reading the Bible on her shoulder. An angel... reading... the Bible.

3. [Not for you].

No comment.

4. Yeah, this is Robert from Levon's Liquor and Grocery. Your prescription is ready and I checked with the manager - we don't carry anti-fungal toilet guards.

No fucking idea. Don't think I want to know. On second thought, I'll find out and let you all know what that was all about. I feel obligated

Hope you enjoyed and, hey, call me sometime.

Mommy 'Complex'

Well, Mother's hysterectomy has been a fun time for all of us at ...Diet Soap and we hope you have enjoyed the graphic illustrations and anecdotes about this hilarious procedure. But, alas, all good things must end. Mother has had rather painful trips to the bathroom only to be diagnosed by her quack with 'Complex Diarrhea.' According to this idiot (I accompanied my Mommy who seems to have grown 20 years older now that she has been robbed of her daily White Russian intake (a sober Mother will be detailed in a later post)), there are four kinds of diarrhea. I won't bore you, but Mumsy has "inflammatory diarrhea" that occurs when there is damage to the mucosal lining or brush border, prolly as a result of the hysterectomy. Normally, I wouldn't care - I would continue reading Variety or playing with my PSP while she moans in the bathroom. But, of course, nothing is easy with Mother. She wants me to "keep her company" while she sits there. So I have to talk to her through the closed door and read aloud from People Magazine (which is fucking hysterical). Should clear up with antibiotics...

Funny shit - literally.

Ask Olive!

Dear Olive,

First of all, let me just say how great we here in Boca Raton, Florida think you are. You're experiences as a not-so-young-anymore socialite amputee have been like a ray of sunshine in this otherwise dull and depressing place we here call "The Sunshine State." Normally I wouldn't bother someone like you with my troubles, but I didn't know to whom else I could turn [editor's note: to whom else I could turn, can you believe this shit?]. Here's my query:

I have a friend who was scheduled to be inducted into the Hall of Fame in his or her profession, a very important and inspiring profession that touches people in profound and significant ways. The problem is that before he or she could receive the honor, the invitation was reneged after he or she was caught "receiving" something else in the backstage bathroom before the ceremony.

Is there any hope for my friend to take his or her rightful place in the shrine of his or her profession?

Former Dancing Great,

Gail Horning

______________


Dear Gail,

You can't give the backstage bathroom attendant at the Boca Raton Dancing Hall of Fame a lap dance before the induction ceremony, forget to lock or even close the door, and expect there to be no consequences (especially at your age), if that's what you're asking.

Gail Horning Fan and Aging Socialite,

Olive Duster

Uh... No.

Get this - Dr. Assram calls me - on a Saturday - and here's what he has to say:

"Hello, Olive. How are we today?"

This is his standard annoying greeting.

"Fine."

"I am calling because I wanted to see if you would be available to discuss your experiences with the iLimb at a brown bag luncheon we are hosting at the clinic on Thursday."

Dr. Assram doesn't believe in contractions so he actually says "I am" instead of "I'm" like most people. Also, I would not be surprised if he never eats, sleeps, or leaves the hospital.

"Uh..."

Brown bag luncheon? Are you fucking serious? Don't you know that I hate people?

"Many of our residents have not had direct contact with this technology and I thought it would be a good experience for them to meet one of our success stories."

Can I be drunk?

"I..."

"It would be a 45 minute luncheon and all you would have to do is answer their questions, demonstrate the technology, and allow me to remove and attach the prosthetic."

Demonstrate the technology? How? By doing Cat's Cradle? By threading a needle? Maybe I could cut an apple or scratch myself.

"Olive? What do you say?"

I Kant take it!!!

Sometimes I feel like Immanuel Kant after his Critique of Pure Reason flopped miserably when it was first published in 1787. "It's too frickin' long," cited one contemporary critic, Johann Gottfried Herder. "I just can't get through all of this gossamer," using the slang word for "800 pages of terse philosophical rhetoric." It wasn't until Karl Reinhold started writing about how great Kant was in a series of responses to the Pantheism Dispute that dominated the Enlightenment era that Kant was given his fair dues.

What I'm saying is that maybe I need one of you to share my philosophies with the general public so I can start making some money off of this shit. These "I Love Duster" t-shirts are not moving like I anticipated.

The world is abuzz...

about the...

SEED VAULT!!!!!!!!

It's about time! All these years, I have lost sleep over the inadequate security at the other 1,400 seed vaults around the world. Thank God. Thank you sweet Lord above for this heaven on earth. Finally, a sperm bank we can be proud of!

Write like me!

...Diet Soap is now accepting applications for a one-time only writing seminar lead by the incomparable Olive Duster herself. Spots are limited so apply now (applicants must be over 18 years old and own a minimum of three (3) leather garments (jackets do not count).)

Here is just a brief glimpse at what you might learn at the ...Diet Soap Writer's Paradise is Blind Workshop:

1) How to write like Olive. Learn all of Olive's various blogging formats, such as this classic:

Fact, fact, fact, fact, could be a fact, hard to tell, probably not a fact, but I'm still not sure, oh, I see, definitely not a fact, outright lie, sarcastic quip, self or other deprecating comment, usually about fake hand, drunk mother, or shitty friends.

2) How to write a diary entry using the Mad OLibs method, for example:

Dear Diary, Can you believe (name of family member or shitty friend or stranger) actually (verb-past tense) that poor (name of animal, piece of furniture, beverage) in the elevator. What an (asshole). I hope that (he, she, it) dies (soon, a slow painful death, in a horrible warehouse fire). Yours humbly, (Your name, pseudonym if you don't want your diary to know your true identity).

3) How to trick wealthy alcoholics into letting you "borrow" their credit card.

4) Learn to put on your own bullshit seminar and charge through the nose for it.

Comments anyone? Leave comments! I thrive on your love.

Olive's Paid Assistant

It just might work...

Raul Castro offered his plans to eradicate hunger on the island nation-state of Cuba (pronounced koo-BAH). Giant cheeseburgers. "We will have a giant cheeseburger in every town and every village of our proud country by the year 2028," boasted Castro.

But opposition party leader, Raul Nader, countered, "He doesn't have a plan for universal burger availability. Under his plan, 35% of the country's poorest citizens, including 300,000 women and children, will go without burgers. An additional 15% will actually be used to make the burgers. I just don't see this happening until at least 2029."

Move over, Nelson Brothers

...Diet Soap snagged an exclusive interview with legendary rock group Glass Tiger at their headquarters in Newmarket, Ontario last week. While most music fans could sing the entire A-side of The Thin Red Line from memory, insiders at The Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame tell ...Diet Soap that it is the group's third album, Simple Mission, that has the rockers on the short list for playing one of the 6 after parties planned for this year's inductees.

DS: Alan (Alan Frew, vocals), first of all, let me gush. Rescued (By the Arms of Love) has my vote for best power ballad - ever!!!

AF: Yeah, it's funny. My songs are like my children. Once they're out there in the world, you never know how they're going to touch other people's lives. Is that a metal hand?

DS: Oh... uh...

AF: You know [unbuttoning top button of his Hawaiian shirt revealing tufts of thick gray chest hair and gold chain], we had planned for our fourth album to be a concept album all about how technology would blend with biology in the future. The working title was actually Metal Heart. Then Cat Power did a song by the same title on Moon Pix so that pretty much killed the project. And now you hear what Bill Gates has to say on the subject and it really makes you think.

DS: What are the boys up to now?

AF: Well, we just reunited and our next project is really exciting. You know, there are only 4 full-service car washes in the Newmarket area. But none of them offer an underbody rust-proof power wash - that is, until now. That's all I can say until plans are more definite, but let's just say we're set to open our car wash next month.

DS: Any other plans - for the band, I mean?

AF: Well, it's too soon to announce anything, but we're considering a "Free Wax Wednesday" and a "Thirsty Thursday", you know, a free 32 ounce Mega Gulp with a fill-up and a car wash so check out the website and come on down.

DS: Michael (Michael Hanson, original drummer) left the band in 1988. How has that affected...

AF: SHUT IT!!! SHUT YOUR HOLE!!! JUST SHUT IT!!!

[Alan leaves in a huff, slamming the door behind him.]

Then nothingness... Then the gurgling of a coffee pot... Then... I awake. It was all a dream... or was it?

[Camera pulls back to reveal Olive lying in bed, an empty Mega Gulp in one hand and feathers from an Indian Chief's headdress in the other hand - the metal one.]

Like Mother, like daughter

So, I learned something today. After researching Mommy's hysterectomy (no, she didn't get to keep the uterus leavings in a bell jar, I already asked), it seems that fate has brought us closer together. Mommy didn't have a complete hysterectomy. She had a partial hysterectomy. They took her uterus, sure, but they left the supracervical.


"So what? Who gives a shit?", you're probably asking. You're so mad, you're considering smearing feces all over the bathroom mirror of your local library where you're using free internet wireless. Put that poop down, hot head. The supracervical is the technical term used for the more familiar one - cervical stump!!! Mumsy has joined the Stump Club!!! Oh, Mother! Now you know what it's like to lose a part of yourself! Now you can understand me better. That is, once you get your robotic uterus implanted.

Fun facts about hysterectomies:

1) No celebrity has ever had one.
2) Mother's surgery was similar to the C-section I always wished she had chosen for me.
3) Mother's surgery was actually a laparoscopy that was "robot-assisted" I kid you not.
4) Technically, if Mother opted for gender reassignment surgery, she would be part-way there already.
5) Unlike the image above, Mumsy's gas-filled area was actually much larger.
6) Mother did not appreciate the following joke: "Look at it this way - since your womb has been disposed of, you can't experience 'empty nest' syndrome when Oliver leaves home."

I thought it would cheer her up, you know, like how if you have your tonsils removed, you can't get colds anymore...

Weird...scary weird...

Monthly brunch with Mumsy. Delayed a week due to her "emergency" hysterectomy. Weird shit happened... Mommy had iced tea... no alcohol... no Bloody Mary followed by "a drop of Chardonnay" followed by "a splash more Chardonnay" followed by embarrassingly loud stage whispers about our fellow diners. Iced tea. With lemon.

Then it gets really fucked.

We had a normal mother-daughter brunch. Mother even made pleasant, funny conversation. I had commented that I wished my iLimb came witha variety of attachments, like "fork", that I could use when eating brunch to amuse myself while my tipsy mother hits on the wait staff. Mommy then said, "You need a Swiss Army iLimb." Then she took a pen out of her purse and proceeded to sketch this hypothetical prosthetic for like 10 minutes with running commentary. She added a toothpick, corkscrew, and a lighter, in addition to the requisite screwdriver, spanner, and nail clipper. Her design incorporated the spork "to lighten the load."

You know how once in a while you hear about the surgeon who operated on the wrong leg? Is it possible that Mommy was mistakenly given a lobotomy instead of having her uterus scraped out?

You read my mind, Bill Gates!

In a surprise, and wholly unnecessary, proclamation, Bill Gates offered his prediction of the future of computer technology while answering questions on BBC's website recently. Gates said, "I'll be brave, in five years we'll have many tens of million of people sitting browsing their photos, browsing their music, organising their lives using [a] type of touch interface," he said. "That is, as long as their hands are their natural hands and not some type of prosthetic or robotic limb", he continued." "Those unfortunates will likely have to be provided with specially trained dogs to tap their screens for them as newer technologies will likely incorporate special fail-safe software to prevent 'smarter' computers and robotic technologies from using their own computers to gain the upper hand in their relentless, unseen war against human technologies, or 'people.'" Gates did offer hope for amputees, however, saying, "There may be a time in the distant, far-off future when amputees using prosthetics will be read as 'hybrids' or 'half-breeds' by computers and, therefore, given partial access to specific programs, such as iTunes and Excel. But, I wouldn't hold my breath."

Clean and sober

I came home last night and there were two big boxes on my bed. The accompanying note from Mother revealed that she decided it was time to clean out my bedroom closet (between the hours of 11 pm when I left and 3:30 am when I returned). "Keep or donate." Mummy, which charitable organization do you think would most likely benefit from my high school biology labs and feather collection? I'll call Amvets first. "An assortment of feathers you found in your yard between the ages of 4 and 9 years old? We can have a truck there by Wednesday. The Desert Storm folks will love 'em! They use them in their crafting room."

Mother, just because the doctors vacuumed out your uterus, doesn't mean you have to vacuum my room.

Besides, your womb is responsible for numerous crimes against humanity. We should go to the Applebee's to celebrate its removal!

Look at it this way - now there's more room for Bernard.

Vagina Review!

Let's face it - America loves vaginas. And they're always making headlines. Here is a brief summary of vaginas in the media from this past week. Enjoy!

1. Mother got a hysterectomy last Thursday, Valentine's Day. Now she'll never have the other daughter she secretly desires.

2. In other news, I have placed a bid on this Virgin Mary pretzel on eBay. I will dip it in mustard and consume it.

3. My vagina has been enjoying some free time lately and is planning a get-away to Antigua this Spring.

4. Bette Midler is slated to star in the new off-Broadway production of the 'The Vagina Dialogues.' Should be an interesting soundtrack.

5. My friend Cunty split her lip open after a night of heavy drinking after the Vampire Weekend concert last week.

Contesticles!

Here's the contest! If I receive 5 unique comments on this post by Sunday, 2/17/08, I will resume my frenetic blogging pace.

Good luck! And check out Mario's package for free!

olive, where are you?

where am i?

am i dead?
am i dreaming?
did i break my good hand?
did i break my bionic hand?

am i depressed?
am i distracted?

is it mother?
is it siobhan?
is is bernard?
is it the doorman?
is it cunty?
is it dum dum?

why did i break my "9th of every month" pledge?
what the fuck?
what's wrong with me?

have i been drinking?
does too much money and too much free time and too few hands mess with a person's mind?

happy valentine's day.

Monthly Newsletter

Dear Fan(atic)s,

I do not feel loved. I have reduced my output to mere scraps in the face of my dwindling numbers, or "hits" as they say on the streets. New diatribes will now be issued on the 9th of each month and I will provide no additional commentary in the interim period of longing you will all surely feel.

Like Tony Blair's conversion to Catholicism, I have "awoken to a new dawn" and now "know my place in God's grand plan." Let's face reality - there are only 5 interesting things about me and my public is not interested anymore:

1) I have an iLimb for a hand.
2) I used to have a hook for a hand.
3) I am a trust fund baby.
4) My trust fund is funded by insurance money obtained following the death of my father in a warehouse fire that, incidentally, resulted in the amputation of my hand.
5) My mother is the kind of aging alcoholic who still owns leather pants.

I am obsessed with the following:

1) All things Mario Lopez.
2) Dolphins and their dangerous arrogance and sense of entitlement.
3) Celebrities and historical figures who have not lost any of their limbs.
4) Doormen.
5) A server at a local coffeehouse.

Perhaps if my intern hadn't quit, things would be different, but, alas and alack, you will have to wait another month...

Loving and beseeching,


Olive, The Voice of Reason