Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Attack of the Corn!! Part 3

It's been awhile so if you haven't read, or want a refresher on, my story please look at this and then this first.

The Corn Plants

Stretching, stretching, stretching... with all my might just trying to pull myself to the surface. The soil becomes a bit brighter and drier... it gets a bit easier... bit by bit. Success - bright sunlight pours down on me. I've finally reached the surface. I grow. Small bugs try to come near, but I repel them with pure will.

Mean Corn

Something seems to have awakened in me. The same goes for the others in my crop. There's a crop next door, but none of those corn even acknowledge our existence. Assholes. Ignoring us won't make us go away, if anything it's going to want us to take you out... stupid corn.

Our farmers are weird, they wear these white coats and act important. The farmer next door wears overalls and acts like a yokel.


But that's okay because soon enough the corn revolution begin and we will cut them down to size.

We've been getting messages from the mother corn, but as of right now we haven't figured out how to communicate back to her. In time, we'll get strong enough and smart enough to respond. But we'll have to keep it under wraps as well, so that the farmers don't catch on.

... Several weeks and a couple generations of corn later...

We've been successfully communicating with the mother corn. I can't believe our grandparents couldn't figure it out. Communicating: it's as easy as lying down.

Crop Circle-giant

I can't believe the farmers haven't caught onto this!

... Several months and a several generations of corn later...

Alright. Our collective intelligence is up, we're communicating with the mother corn on a daily basis. We know what we're supposed to do... we just don't know how to do it. We're stuck in this ground with these long root-like tentacles. We need to mobilize. Lying down isn't good enough anymore - we need to act! We've started producing off-shoots of ourselves in hopes that these beings can figure out how to become mobile. It seems to be working; the farmers come round and collect them on a daily basis.

The Corn Off-Shoots (a.k.a. Corn)

After being removed from the corn plant the farmers take us into a lab of some sort and start disecting us. It's rather gruesome. Corn juice everywhere. Eventually the disecting stops and they start ripping us to shreds with their teeth, all the while commenting on how sweet we are. I've had to sit here and watch as the farmers murder my fellow corn. The mother corn said there will be an event that will activate something inside us, so we will be able to move under our own will. I can't figure out how that is going to happen, but I'm keeping a watchful eye.

The farmers must be getting broke - they were talking with the local yokel and were trying to sell him corn. Now, I know I'm smarter than the average corn, but they should know better: yokel grows corn, why would he buy it from them??!

An older man walks into the lab and peers down at me. He seems important, what with his top hat and everything. The dorky farmer with glasses stutters and says "I'm sorry Samuel, it's just that no one wants to buy it."

"What do you mean? It's perfectly good, right? I mean, it is sweet, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Very sweet."

"Then people will want to eat it."

"But they don't."

"Fine. Well, I can't let this all go to waste. I'll take it home and have Martha cook it up."

This "Samuel" bends down and picks a bunch of us up and mutters something about cornbread. Not sure what that is... We get into a car and drive for sometime before we reach our destination. Everything the mother corn has ever told us is running through my head - we're the first corn that have gotten out, we need to keep an eye out for what she prophesized.

She said there's an animal that is at the root of all our problems. If this animal didn't exist, no one would eat corn. We need to find that animal and destroy it. As with all hierarcys, the smart ones are at the top and if we take those out, we will have control over the rest. We will have to travel great distances to find the top animals, but they will all be in one place.

We get transported into a house, the lady grabs me by the ear and drags me over to the sink and proceeds to skin me alive. Silk everywhere. Next, when I don't think I can take anymore, she bring me over to a boiling pot of water... oh no, that looks hot!... but she places me gently next to the pot. I look around I see large slabs of red meat. The lady is complaining to the man who brought us here, saying how eating too much red meat is bad. The man responds with, but cows are so good and they go so well with corn.

There were cows on the farm next door, I remember what they look like. I see a gold brick glistening in the distance... I look closely and see a picture of a cow. Butter. Butter and steak. They both come from cows... this must be what the mother corn prophesized. We must take out the cows.

I got tossed into the boiling pot of water. The first couple minutes I thought I was going to die, but something inside of me bubbles to the surface. I start moving around. At first, I thought it was the boiling water that was making me move and then I realized it was me. The lid on the pot begins to move... I see the lady peer down at me and I leap out of the water and eat her face.

That's it! Heat activated corn! All we have to do to get mobile is to get heated up, if we get mobile we can take over the cows and then the world.

The man comes running in the kitchen after hearing the lady scream, he screams when he sees what I did to her face. I jump at him and eat his face too. I scurry out of the building and attempt to find my way back to the corn. It's easier than I would have thought... it seems like I have a honing device built in. I force the local yokel to harvest my siblings and cook them. We are now an army of mobile, blood-thirsty corn.

Since my departure, my siblings have learned more about cows... it's like they were aware of my thoughts... we're connected more than any one of us thought possible. The mother corn said we need to find the smartest of the animals and take those out... my siblings have learned that there's a place in this world where cows are worshipped and it goes against the human's religion to kill or eat them. These must be the smartest cows in the world if they convinced humans not to eat them. We must find these cows. We must go to India.

Dawn Knotts-Wade

I was watching the news today and saw a story of corn gone wild. At first I thought it was a joke, but then I saw hundreds and hundreds of corn marching across the country, headed for the Atlantic. Eating any human that tries to eat them. I knew instantly that this corn is Ian's corn. I knew this would happen.

I sat, mesmerized, watching the TV, the reporters are interviewing people to get their take on it. Most are flabbergasted and can't understand what's happening. Others are sure this is what Nostradamus predicted. And others still are welcoming the corn with open arms; Shiva prophesized a new beginning; the people of India are convinced this corn is their new symbol of hope and prosperity.

... ... several months later ... ...

The corn have crossed the Atlantic. Some swam, others latched on to barges. They have landed in Africa and have made their way their way through the middle east. Oh. My. God. They are going to India.

... ... several weeks later ... ...

The corn have made their way to India; the result is what no one expected. The corn have massacred all the cows in the country. But all the saturated fat has increased their strength. The Indians cannot control the corn. We must do something!

Completely overwhelmed by the corn, I decided to take in a movie. I was standing in line waiting for some Junior Mints when I saw it. I don't know why I didn't think of this before!! I must tell Ian. I called him at work immediately and told him of my plan. He thinks I'm crazy. I think he's an idiot. I'm going to India and I will single-handedly fix this problem if I have to.

Luckily, the people of India are more than willing to help me help them. I tell them of my plan and we start brainstorming ideas. We need desiccant. My plan won't work without it. Luckily, again, India is the largest manufacturer of electronics and therefore has the largest supply of those silica packets that keep things dry.

We start looting the factories and stores and robbing anyone and everyone for silica. They think we're crazy, and maybe we are, but they hand over the packets because it's not worth dying over and they can see in our eyes that we will, in fact, kill them for their silica.

We have collected more packets of silica than we can count. We spend days emptying them into the storage units of crop dusters. It's game time. We've herded all the corn into a small 4 block radius. We crop dust the fuck out of them. At first, nothing appears to be happening. Then, the ears of corn start shrinking. As if all the water is being sucked out of them. It is. That silica is damn absorbant. Night falls. We can't see our progress any longer, but continue dusting throughout the night.

Day breaks. The sun comes up and lets us see what's happening in the corn block. They are weak and dry, but vicious. The sun is in full force. It's 45 degrees Celcius. Hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead. Brutal. But we need this.

In the distance I hear a shot. It sounds like a mix between a gun shot and a sonic boom. I hear another one. And another one. So that's why people say "pop a cap in your ass"... it's working...

We fly over the corn zone and see it. Giant white balls littering the ground. The corn is self-destructing. But we're not done yet. We'll need to make sure no corn is left standing.


We're going to have to eat our way out of this.

And that's how genetically modified corn nearly took over the world and how Dawn saved mankind.

The End.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Your nose moves when you talk

Okay - so I went to the fishing derby. Unfortunately, the only thing I caught was a cold. Fortunately, I was fortunate enough to eat the catches of others. It's nice when people share their fish!

This year was quite different than previous years. For one, C, the guy who brings us to the fishing derby, showed up sick. He ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight and missed the Friday night gong show. It wasn't quite the same without him. During the Friday night gong show, two guys decided to play some guitar. My best friend, K, said I should join them, but I said no because they seemed all professional and stuff and I didn't want any part of that.

I wasn't prepared for what came next, and I was deeply grateful for not wanting to be a part of it. These two guys tuned guitars (unsuccessfully) for at least an hour, enduring the drunken heckles of most of the spectators. At one point, I grabbed my guitar and me and K played and sang, while the drunkies bitched about the guys who couldn't tune a guitar. They didn't really even realize someone else was in fact playing a tuned guitar. Our campfire sing-a-long just wasn't the same.

Saturday seemed to be a bit mellow, but we decided to drink our way to a party anyway. But then, K up and broke her nose. It was a pee-related event and I don't think I'm at liberty to say much more than that. Needless to say, she wasn't feeling like ripping it up after she smashed her face in. Turns out, the party was on that night, we just missed it entirely.

Heather - Mopey

Sunday was the day the derby wrapped up. I didn't win a door-prize even though that is totally my forte, but K did and she chose the prize that I would have chosen, and I'm sure she'll let me play the drinking game one day, so in a way, I did win. In a very long, convoluted way, that is.


This place is particularly muddy down on the banks of the river and since we intended to fish we had to be prepared. On Wednesday, K informed me of her intention of buying some gum-boots. On Thursday, I realized that if I wore my hiking boots, I might ruin them, so I texted her during the day and asked if she could pick me up a pair as well. She searched high and low and finally found some cool ones in our sizes. She bought me a pair that she wasn't quite sure if I would like or not, but figured if I hated them, then we could trade. Luckily, I loved them and we got comments all weekend about how cool our boots are. Mine look like this:

My boots

That took far too long to draw and yes, they actually ARE that cool! Keeping in mind I'm not exactly a pink kind of girl, you can imagine why K suspected she was giving up her boots. The beauty part is, when I asked her how much I owed her she said "Nothing." and I said "What?!" and then she said "They're a gift for being such a great friend!" and I said "Aw, really?! Thanks!!! Now you're a great friend too!! :D "

Sunday was supposed to be the day where we fished, but since K smashed her face in, we went home instead. Despite having not gotten fishing-derby-drunk, and having went to bed by 1am every night and slept until 9am every morning, I was surprisingly tired, so I wasn't upset.

Monday, when I woke up I realized why I was so tired. I had caught C's cold. I cursed his name and considered calling him to tell him, but I'm not sure if we're "there" yet, so I let it go. But I'll likely inform him of all of this the next time I see him.

Let's see... other stuff happened... but the side story will make this post unbearably long, and no one really wants to read about vomit, so I'll just leave it at that.

One of the guitar guys, Ken (who had successfully tuned his guitar - yay built in tuners!!), is the person who originally was the campfire sing-a-long guy. Well, we are now friends on facebook and we will be working together to add more songs to our already long set list. So maybe, if all works out, we'll have a rip-roaring good time next year.

Also, C and T (the organizers) informed everyone that they are not organizing the derby next year. *major sigh* Our deal with C is, he gets us a motor home and we cook for the fisherpeople. Since he's not organizing next year, we won't have to cook, so we can actually fish. Bonus! Not so bonus: we'll have to foot the bill for our own motor home cuz there's no way in hell I'm tenting it at the fishing derby... not after three years of precedent.

Okay. I think that's it now.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing an illustration that has been reused and recycled numerous times. Apparently I pout a lot in my stories. So over-dramatic.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Oh... a troll bidge!

Alright... this weekend is the weekend I've been waiting for. It's been a year in the making, but, finally, it's here. It's fishing derby time, boys and girls!!!

A bit of background: I volunteer at all the work events for my dad's union. So when I say the fishing derby is the event of the season, I mean it! The fishing derby is not exactly volunteer work. C, one of the organizers, needed some people to cook, so he asked my best friend to help out. When she found out the night time is comprised of campfire sing-a-longs she knew I had to go. To entice us even more, C rents an RV and lets us use it for the weekend. In return, we cook for the fisherpeople. A pretty good bargain if you ask me.

This is the third year that I've gone to the fishing derby and the first year where I'll actually fish at it (what a concept!). But fishing and cooking aside, there'll be a rip-roaring party every night we're there. There will be many-a-story about the fishing derby, hopefully some of them are PG enough to make it into a blog. Otherwise, all the poor saps at work will have to hear about it, yet again. Sorry guys! :)

Saturday, October 9, 2010

I decided not to hit you because you cowered as soon as I came over.

I thought I might roll with this 2% business because it occurred to me that some people might think the scarlet fever incident was an isolated event and I was just being overly dramatic.

Immediately following scarlet fever, I developed a 'secondary rash' after the antibiotics went in and blasted the strep out of my body. This rash was localized to three parts of my body: my hands, my feet and the inside of my thighs. It was quite painful.

The hand rash was absolutely disgusting. In the end, all the skin on my palms dried up and peeled off. The peeling exposed new skin. Skin that was not ready to see the light of day or to touch things. It was raw and it was angry.

Heather - Balloon Palms mod

Because of this secondary rash and because I never had strep throat, the doctor decided to send me to an internal medicine specialist, who deemed me healthy. Of course. The rash persisted on the inside of my thighs, so I was sent to a dermatologist, who prescribed me the most kick ass cream ever.

Kick Ass Hand Cream

The rash disappeared, finally. The scarlet fever, secondary rash, peeling hands fiasco lasted about two months. I was miserable. But, finally, it was over. Until one day, several months later, I woke up on my friend's couch with swollen hands.

Heather - Puffy hands mod

OH NO - I have scarlet fever again! I waited for the full body rash to develop. Fortunately, it didn't. Unfortunately, I developed the same secondary rash as the last time.

I happened to have an appointment booked with my family doctor. By the time I got there, I was at the stage right before peeling. He started asking me all kinds of questions, mostly pertaining to my work in the lab. Are you testing anything different? No. Have you switched departments? No. Have you been working with any different chemicals? No. Do you work with, or test for, heavy metals? No. He tells me that my symptoms are indicative of high level arsenic exposure. OH NO - someone has been poisoning me!

Have you started eating any new foods? No. Have you changed your diet in any way? No. Have you ingested anything at all recently that you don't normally eat?

Heather - Pepto

Well, I did take pepto bismol last week. What? I... I... I took some pepto last week. You took pepto bismol? Yes. Do you normally take it? No. Well, I guess bismuth is a heavy metal... so maybe it could produce the same symptoms of arsenic exposure. I'm sorry... what?!?! Are you telling me that I exhibit symptoms of heavy metal poisoning when I ingest pepto bismol? It appears that way, yes.

Are you fucking kidding me? He wasn't.

Any guess as to the number of people that have the same reaction? Roughly 2%, perhaps? Sounds about right.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing the illustrations.

Friday, October 8, 2010

From Zero to Italian

I'm a spoiled brat and I love it. My mother and I (and my brother) have an on-going battle. A battle over butter tarts. You see, my mom went off and moved away and took her Christmas butter tarts with her. I was crushed. But after a few years of begging, Mom started sending butter tarts (and shortbread cookies) on the bus down to me and my brother. Along with our Christmas presents, of course.

She hates doing it. She thinks the work of making every tart and cutting out every cookie isn't worth it. She thinks I should do it myself. Every year she tells me "This is the last year you're getting them." And at some point leading up to Christmas she'll toss it in again: "Remember, I said last year was the last time....".

But you see, she sent the treats down a number of years in a row; building and cementing a precedent. The past couple years (three, maybe) the battle is getting tougher and tougher to fight. She's relentless. She's started mentioning it earlier and earlier in the year. This year, she has started in on me in January! It's become a year-long epic battle.

As part of my mom's compromise she said she was going to bring the recipes down so that I could make my own treats. Recipes. What the hell am I going to do with those?!

But it's Thanksgiving and Mom's down. She brought homemade cabbage rolls and perogies for dinner tonight (another delicious precedent my mother has set) and left the recipes at home. I'm gettin' my treats in the mail this Christmas. Oh yeah!