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The Further Somniloquies of Dion McGregor: Food Roulette

Yes, somniloquy is a real word, and it’s about to become your favourite. Ever been told that you talk in your sleep? Ever been around someone else who does? Dion McGregor is by far the most audible and comprehensible sleep-talker I’ve ever personally experienced or heard recordings of. Not only that, but his somniloquies are actually coherent, sometimes as elaborate as the one I’ve posted below. There are so many good ones, but Food Roulette is one of my favourites.

Regretsy

I’m laughing so hard I’m crying.

This album immediately conjures memories of a cassette tape that fell into my possession some years ago. It was a self-produced album belonging to a family friend. Production values were identical, except that he was Hungarian, unable to speak English, but singing entirely in English.

Both my mother and my step-father speak English as a second language, so far be it from me to hold that against someone. The problem was, his use of words was so bizarre, and his pronounciation so completely garbled, that I swear that one of the songs was about goats and clouds.

I was 13 at the time. My step-father introduced the tape to us, proud of this tape from his musician friend. He started the tape, and the warbling of the sound quality immediately didn’t bode well. When he began to sing, the notes came out flat and wobbly, and the words sounded like he was speaking through some automated translator. I started to laugh. Hesitantly at first, watching my parents to see if my reaction would be received without incident. I tried to stifle my laughter out of politeness, but this only amplified things. It soon became contagious, as it quickly became apparent to my parents that he was singing about livestock and meteorological phenomenon. It wasn’t long before tears were streaming down all of our faces, holding our sides in pain.

Varga takes me right back, Casio and lo-fi recording to boot. This makes me do a little dance of exquisite joy.

Don’t know what to get the family member you despise, but want something with a personal touch? Regretsy is here for you!

Save the attractive crafts for yourself and your best friend, Regretsy has itemized the worst of Etsy, from pet humiliation to all things vagina-inspired.

If nothing else, go just so you have an excuse to say “Vagtastic!”

Seasonal WIN!



The Santa in my photo isn’t sketchy, but I was definitely unwilling to sit on his lap!

Dude is moving up in the world. He has a Facebook page!

Click on the following links at your own peril. If you’re already queasy, you definitely want to take a pass.

I have a morbid fascination with gross stuff, which I blame on my health care professional family members. Dinner-inappropriate conversational topics were standard fare, with myself being the individual with the weakest capacity for enduring sights/stories involving blood and guts. That said, if the goal is to gross-out other people, it seems to suppress my natural urge to vomit and faint. As a result, I am to blame for introducing more than a handful of my friends to the wonders that the Internet has to offer. Goatse? Yep, introduced several people to that. 2 Girls 1 Cup? Yep, introduced several people to that.

My memories of the early WWW days usually involved items with shock factor, my first favourite find being Rectal Foreign Bodies, a collection of the various items that beleaguered health care professionals have had to remove from the rectums of individual who have exercised exceptionally poor judgement. That site is more funny than gross, since most of the contents are either text case reports, or x-ray images. Another throwback is a site that I’ve attempted to visit over the years, but have been overcome with nausea and unable to actually explore. Yes, I’m talking about Rotten.com.

With the prevalence of gross/shocking images these days, the site doesn’t have quite as much gag-potential as it once did. Even so, I still can’t bring myself to click on some of the images. Skin disorders, large wounds and massive head injuries are still enough to force me into a head-between-knees position. Can we talk about something else now? That’s about all the nausea I need for one day.

There is a checklist. I’ve rarely heard it addressed directly, but it comes up in conversation on a regular basis. If I were to condense some of its contents, it would look something like this:

x – put up Christmas decorations already, neighbours still slacking, 5 points
x – baked enough cookies to feed the developing world and finished my Christmas shopping before other people have even started, 20 points
x – brow-beat significant other into achieving next step of relationship progression, 50 points
_ – plan wedding that costs more than the GDP of Fiji
_ – set timeline for having children, disregarding debt and overall financial stability

Question: who the fuck came up with this bullshit, and why are women constantly bringing it up? Since when were all females playing what amounts to an RPG, and when do I get to officially opt out? Is it possible to talk about something like, oh, I don’t know, world events? Must we sit around, congratulating each other on checking off new items, while simultaneously admonishing everyone else who has failed to do so?

Now, Ladies, I realize that it’s a huge leap, but might I suggest that we all take a step back and consider that not everyone cares about The Checklist. If we’re all so fucking feminist, then it might be good to remember that we all have a CHOICE about what we choose to pursue, and the order and speed in which we pursue said items is NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS. We can talk about other things, like music, philosophy, science. I regularly have conversations with men and women that never so much as drift in the direction of The Checklist, and I think we can make this the norm if we all try really hard. I realize that means that you won’t get to probe me on my marital status or ticking biological clock at every family gathering, but it will get easier with practice. If you start to get twitchy with withdrawl, feel free to retreat into a few costume dramas where the characters have nothing better to do than compare checklists. You can rejoin the real world when you’ve got it out of your system.

My newly emancipated status has obviously led to a marked increase in TV watching. Sometimes this is good, as in watching the season premiere of CSI, or a show about ancient Chinese boats the size of football fields. Then I find myself flipping around, and I end up watching “Pig Bomb”.

First of all, the title: really? “Pig Bomb”? This passed more than one level of judgement and made it all the way to production? This confirms that business has really ground to a halt in the TV industry. I get it, the show is about wild pigs. They’re all destructive and what-not. But the title. Really.

Secondly, invasive non-native species are never a good thing. They monopolize the habitat and resources of native species, sometimes to the point of threatening their survival. The first thing that came to my mind, though, was prolific free-range food source! No need to pay extraordinary sums for heritage-breed pigs. These pigs are descendants of eight pigs brought over my Christopher Columbus et al. from the Canary Islands in 1493, and they’re over-taking agricultural areas across the southern United States. Shoot them. Eat them. The human race has been very efficient in driving many species to or past the point of extinction (which is to say, wiping them out). Allow your omnivore hippie mind to be set at ease, knowing your food was not factory-farmed, but has been running rampant through forests and farmers’ fields for it’s whole life. The only thing missing here is good PR. They’re not monsters, they’re delicious.

Yeah, they’re dangerous, and yeah, they’re destructive and hurting the crops of farmers all over the southern United States. But hello? When have humans ever had a problem wiping out an animal that we use for food? These aren’t rats, they’re not even rabbits. These require no leap of diet for the bacon-loving meat-eaters. We already eat their domestic cousins, this won’t be a hard sell.

The show spent a good quarter of an hour of the show on how unbelievably huge pigs can get, then went on to admit that a 1000lb pig would be next to impossible without a supplementary food source. They instill the terror of the pig bomb, how American wild pigs appear to have been crossing with imported Eurasian pigs. They’re bigger, they’re nastier! Oh, and Vladmir National Park in Russia feeds the boars to maintain the populations for game hunters. Uh . . . what?

Okay, so Georgia isn’t exactly the harsh climate of Russia, but you get the idea of how ridiculous the whole premise of the show became. Wild pigs are the killer bees of the 2000′s. They will kill your dogs and attack you. They’re spreading. Oh, and they’re spreading because a bunch of idiots keep introducing them to areas where there are no wild pigs, so they have something to hunt. But the tusks! Look at those huge tusks!

So, yeah. Interesting, but the quality of arguments reminded me of junior high social studies. I suggest revising for extra marks.

I bought a new pair of glasses back in March, after discovering that years of contact lens overuse was threatening to impede my vision. I wanted to find some glasses that would help me feel better about having to give up contact lenses altogether, and I ended up discovering Alain Mikli frames.

My beautifully crafted acetate frames would be reason enough to get excited about the brand and the man himself. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Alain Mikli is the man behind these sunglasses.

The man has been setting trends since the late 70′s, and I had no idea. He is an architect; his use of colour and shape has made me excited about glasses in ways I never thought possible. I can’t wait until I can procure another pair of Mikli frames!

Bin Laden’s son “probably killed” in U.S. air strike

“Probably”? Of all the ways to phrase a headline, “probably” was the best choice? BBC said “likely”. “Probably” sounds so unsure that it’s not worth reporting.

“Are you going to the mall?”
“Probably.”
“Was Bin Laden’s son killed in a U.S. air strike?”
“Probably.”

Um, yeah. Great.