Chapter 14: Two Losts Do Not Make a Found

Of course the problem with the bonus day off in the middle of the week is that it's very hard to get up the next morning. I have a vague memory of the alarm going off, but I managed to fall right back to sleep, staying zonked out through Andrea Ratuski, that damn annoying thingy that announces the top of the hour, World Report, weather, sports, and Tom Allen's opening remarks. Bleargh. And I've been craving a chai soy latte all morning. This is not unusual -- I often crave the chai soy latte, because the chai soy latte is, in fact, crack* -- but I don't ever do hot drinks in the morning, due to too many years of burning my tongue on the hot chocolate that my dad used to make for me before school. A nice idea, but not too easy to drink when you only have 10 mintues for breakfast. Dear Body: Do not confuse the listersgirl. She is plenty enough confused without your help.

Ok, y'all. My man Tommy Douglas is still in first place, and Don Cherry has fallen in the standings, so I don't have to kill myself. I'm getting a little worried for Tommy, though - apparently London (Ontario, not England - I'm pretty sure they don't care) is running a huge campaign to get everyone in the city to vote repeatedly for Frederick Banting. Now, Fred was a great guy, developing insulin and all, but I don't think he deserves to be Greatest Canadian, because what he did didn't affect Canada specifically in any way.

The episode on Lester B. (aka Mike) Pearson was fabulous. Of course, it had the advantage of a) a subject who was around during the TV years, so there was lots of footage to use, b) someone who, were it not for Tommy Douglas, I could easily see myself promoting, and c) Paul Gross as advocate (who, incidentally, is filming a movie in the parking lot under my bathroom window on Monday. I think I feel a cold coming on). Also, there were no gratuitous driving shots. Sort of. There were gratuitous bumper cars, trains and airplanes, but at least that was new.

( Lost ramblings, the non-squee version - it's safe to click, llamacran )

Spam: STOP THE PORN
Me: But...I like porn!
Spam: *PORN* *PORN* *PORN*
Me: Ahhhhh! Ok, not your porn.
Me: ::runs back to safety of porn with proper punctuation and good grammar::
No, I did not actually *open* the spam. What kind of fool do you think I am? The subject lines were scary enough.

ps. mistress_wanda! There's an icon here that you need. No, really.

*And I remember having a long discussion about this somewhere, but I can't find it. And the supposed 'search this journal' function does not, in fact, search this journal. Bah.