Donn's

See, Donn with two thousand n's secretly loves these posts I do about him, his silly antics, his family and more about his silly antics. Donn picked the hottest, sweatiest day of the year to have me over for a BBQ of hot dogs and hamburgers yesterday.

We kibitzed around as we usually do. Alice, his wife, LOVED IT! Poor Alice. Their son Ridley is slowly developing a sense of humour like us. Poor kid! No, I mean lucky kid! Two Donns with two n's! Alice will likely go insane!


So Donn came to pick me up and drive me to his place To pick up Alice, their son Ridley and Donn's unfortunate mother Carol and his stepdad, Brian. We went to see his oldest daughter, Nicole, dance. Then we went back to his place.

Poor Carol and Brian, below, and behind them, Alice and Ridz. They have Donn to deal with. I was stuck in the front with him.

We finally went to Donn's with two n's.

Donn with two n's and his lovely wife, Alice.

Brian being a guy or something.

Carol being a girl or something.

These are random pictures that I ASSUME were taken by Alice.

Below, this is me trying to take Donn with a whole lot of n's for a ride om his turn-of-the-19th century bike.

The two brainiacs try to figure out how to use the brakes.

Chris and Ridley Rock The Casbah.

Conrad

This guy is even MORE of a prick than he appears. He is Conrad Black. He singlehandedly destroyed the Canadian newspaper business. People might have left newspapers anyway with the advent of the Internet.

But they undoubtedly have left quicker in my mind because of his mightier than thou, nose up, I'm better than you attitude and style that he and his henchman, a rat with the last name of Radler, employed on the Canadian public years ago.

He begged and got the queen to make him a knight. So he is Sir Conrad, the same as King Arthur is Sir Arthur. What an embarrassment to the planet.

He closed down newspapers in many markets. He put many people out of work (not me). He got caught later for money laundering or fraud or something and was jailed in the U.S. After causing so many people their jobs. Their lives.

He is and was the worst ass. He's the kind of person who hid behind his money and power. He is like the worst example of humanity you could imagine. He is worse than the worst bug you could imagine. I can't believe he is getting out of jail.

I can't believe he is a Canadian. I can't believe he is a human been. I HOPE he is not allowed back in Canada, the country he once renounced so he could be lorded by Her Idiotness The Queen.

Thought of You Today. Got Gas

Well I walked to the hospital today -- and then found out I'm not supposed to be seeing Kathie, my therapist, until next week. DOH! So I walked home again, and came upon this guy, still in my apartment after repainting my tub.



Repainting my tub? That's right. The paint itself is all toxic and smelly, of course, but it will dry. Consider it like building an airplane. The real thing, once it's ready, is majestic. But it's the building of it that stinks -- literally.



There...isn't this bog post Farcebooky?

MoreStuff

I like to call him Bubalooey Baboon. He was fearless. And he was young. I was at an african Safari tour near London, Ontario. And he was quite a character. Inquisitive and bold. And bad. I thought he might climb into the vehicle. But he didn't.

In a staid pre-Farcebook world, his bold existence and moves were shocking. But he was the best thing about that up close and personal safari.

The baboons were just like a group of Curious Georges. And so was I.

Doh!

Females! They climb up in trees! They're SO evasive!

Except when they have babies...

Sometimes, the baby just sits...

But other times...

Stuff

While I try to recover from my son Evan being over here and laughing so hard, living life comes to the fore. My right side is DEFINITELY losing much of its paralysis. I'm sometimes like a bear who has been in winter hibernation.

I feel I can do more now. As if The Boy in the Bubble Syndrome is passing me by. Finally. I can and WILL still stumble and fall. But like a baby that you let walk around when it has just been crawling, it's OK if I fall.

That will just teach me NOT to fall again. It will teach me to walk again. Which it has. It has taught me to want and chase more beautiful things. And I have. And I will. This HASN'T happened to me. It couldn't.

But if it has, I will combine it with the most beautiful blessing that could happen to anyone, period. I will love. Deeply and happily and contentedly. And I will joke. Heartily. But I will also be deadly serious. Seriously.

Evan

Evan! Wake up!!! It's 2010! Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!!

Ha Ha Ha Ha!

Ha Ha Ha Ha! After a late night of watching my Family Guy tapes from -- GASP!! -- my daughter, Monica -- this was my son, Evan, on Sunday morning. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! If you think I have a small brain, his is microscopic!

Believe it or not, he eventually woke up. And left. But I don't think he made his bed!

Here is a random shot of my shower.

Here is a random shot of me INSIDE my bathroom, which is alternately known as the loo, the lavatory, the WC, or the can or bathroom in different parts of the world. It may be called something else in YOUR part of the world.

Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending how you look at things -- my 18-year-old son Evan & I got to spend some alone time this weekend as my Queen of sheba daughter Monica worked and played with her new boyfriend, who I have never killed yet, Alex.

Poor guy.

As usual, though, Evan came over. He is the Prince of Pain. The Deacon of Dirt. The Sultan Of Sleep. And speaking of...