Who-fa? EUFA.

I haven’t really followed soccer (football, whatever) since the days when my family had season tickets for the NASL-era San Jose Earthquakes, and even that was limited to swooning over Paul Child and his curly brown hair. But yesterday was the UEFA final between Spain and Germany, and it reminded me what a great game that soccerball game really is. A truly superior sport.

Still, I didn’t think I would be writing about yesterday’s game until I saw the astounding pre-game ceremony. The only thing missing from that pre-game show was Prince playing with his giant forked penis, and that would have actually fit right in with rest of the production. Maybe next time. I can’t believe this, but I’ve been looking and looking online and can find no photos of the pre-game ceremony. You’re going to have to believe me about what I am about to tell you.

The sheik of Araby

I seem to remember a Warner Bros. cartoon from the ’40s making fun of the fact that people in Los Angeles liked to build houses that looked like they came from distant lands. You see a Japanese pagoda next door to an Elizabethan cottage, and a cozy little yurt just down the street. I might not be remembering this completely correctly, but I do recall viewing this as a child and thinking, “What a great place to live.”

And it is. The cartoon was pretty accurate. Whether it stems from being surrounded by motion picture sets all day at work or the proximity to Disneyland or some more deep-rooted escapist desire, I can’t say. But we sure love our foreign-looking houses here in Los Angeles. And since I don’t have a lot of time or money for a fancy vacation, I think I’m going to try to find as many of these houses and concentrate real hard, and maybe for a second it will be like I’m actually in a foreign land. Here’s to trying, anyway.

Today’s destination: ancient Arabia. Construction on this seemed to drag on for months even after the outside had been completed, so I hope they have some really great details inside like flying carpets and bath tubs with sweet mint tea coming out of the taps:

Very pretty. My favorite detail, however, is the noble Arabian horse they have in the front yard:

As-salaam alaikum, good steed, and hie us away with all the speed you are able to muster. Today we must visit the souk of Trader Joe, as we have run low on hummus and Charles Shaw.

“We called him a tortoise because he taught us….”

I’m glad I stopped to take photos of these lost pet notices on Rowena Avenue earlier in the week,

because as of this morning, they were all taken down. I hope this doesn’t mean that they have given up on finding the turtle:

because that would be very sad.

I am choosing to believe that they found the turtle strolling around the neighborhood, and he was absolutely fine. Judging by his fancy hat, I think the turtle was just out shopping for a new outfit. Maybe an evening ensemble:

Very fancy! Glad you made it back home, turtle.

Velvet Turtle image derived from a photo by Claudia on Picasa; Claudia, if you’re reading this, I know I didn’t ask permission to use your photo, but at least I gave you a photo credit, unlike this guy.

Big break

I’m thinking about taking Joaquin to this audition found (by defamer) on craigslist:

CASTING Hamster for short film

I am looking for a hamster.

I know I could buy one, but then I would own it. So , I was hoping to just rent one for 50 bucks for a couple hours.

The Hamster will be work in a studio shoot on a greenscreen. He is playing Rocky, the captain of a boat.

please send a picture

We are shooting for a couple hours on saturday, that is this coming saturday the 28th in Hollywood.

I know Joaquin is technically a cat, but with all his boating experience, I think he’s a shoo-in for the part.

Curious Canadian critter carcass controversy

I can’t believe I never heard about the Torrington Gopher Hole Museum before today (thanks, metafilter). Not only does this place feature three things I love – dioramas, taxidermy, and animals in costumes – but apparently it was the focus of a PETA protest back when it opened in 1996. When the museum founders responded to PETA’s letters with a postcard saying, “Get stuffed,” newspapers around the world picked up on the story. I can’t believe I slept through all this.

Apparently the issue is still riling people up; when the student paper for the University of Calgary wrote a story about the museum, it received the following complaint:

I was seriously offended to see a gopher representing my profession…not only because gophers in and of themselves are the pride of the Praires, but also because it undermines the skill required to be a blacksmith since it is common knowledge that gophers couldn’t possibly have the mental capacity to perform such tasks. In fact it borders on defamation of a blacksmith’s character. We ask that the proprietor remove at least the blacksmith gopher from her collection. Clearly the RCMP gopher has been appropriately depicted, and possibly the reverend as well.

Okay, whoever wrote that was obviously joking around; it was signed “Rusty Brown” which is a suspicious name if I’ve ever heard one. Then there was the following comment:

the brilliance of a stuffed gopher can never be underscored. think of the tragedy that noah faced with the arc and yet here they immortalize the most dispised rodent on the prairies. this is where the underdog is transformed to immortality by the skill of the taxidermists hand and the the careful display by the curators who willl be blessed in gopher heaven

if i could be stuffed i would. if i could be a care free gopher who can copulate 20 hours a day so be it that i might be in the pantheon

At this point, I think I’m even more amused by the University of Calgary student body than I am by a trailer full of taxidermied ground squirrels. Maybe amused isn’t the right word here. One thing is for sure – I need to go up to Torrington, and on the way I either need to take a detour to the UC campus or give it a very wide berth.

Photo by smithco on flickr

Two-legged dog roundup

Everyone loves tripod dogs; am I right? Those brave little guys with only three legs running and catching frisbees and rescuing people from burning buildings make normal four-legged dogs seem a little lazy or something. But when people hear about dogs who can race around the yard and march through the airport on two legs, it seems like they’re not so amazed by the tripods any more.

Listen: those two-legged dogs who can get around without any help are overachievers. Show-offs. It is not normal for a dog to be able to get around on two legs. Yo-yo the chihuahua can attest to this; her owners are trying to get her to walk on her own, but it’s obviously a struggle. So I don’t want anybody judging little puppy Hope and saying she’s a sissy for getting wheels put on:

I think Hope is fantastic. Someday she is going to travel to the Land of Oz and be a good guard dog for the Wheelers, protecting their lunch-pail trees from thieving children. Hopefully before she goes, she can hook Yo-yo up with some of those nice wheels. She could definitely use some.

Photo from the Daily Mail

Birth of a nation

People of the world, please join me in welcoming the new micronation of Forvik into our midst! Forvik is a small island off the coast of Scotland owned by a man named Stuart Hill, and as of Saturday Stuart declared Forvik’s independence from the United Kingdom. Its new official name is Forvik Island – Island of the Bay of Sheep. Go Forvik!

Stuart’s reason for declaring independence is based on the fact that he can find no proof that the United Kingdom ever owned the Shetland islands, and thus has no legal jurisdiction over them; the closest he can find to a legal claim is some sort of pawn arrangement back in the 15th century. I’m kind of confused as to how he came to own the island himself, and I would write to ask him about this, but it seems that he’s pretty swamped with other emails at the moment.

Anyway, he asserts that the UK is really screwing up the Shetland islands, and he’s going to try to make things better; he’d like the island to be more of a territory protected by the crown but not governed by them. His mission is slightly more serious than some other micronations who have split from the UK, and while I don’t think gravitas is a necessity to forming a good micronation, in this case I think it’s a good thing. Some other micronations like Hamland could take a cue from him and remember to use spellcheck on their websites. Just saying.

I’m not sure he has enough space on Forvik to accommodate Frank Zappa’s definition of a real country, but there’s a possibility that he may be sitting on some oil, so that’s not a bad start. Best of luck to you, your Excellency Stuart!

Flag of the Kingdom of Gosling depicted above; apparently this is as far as King Thomas 1 got in developing his micronation.

Etiquette & superstition: mourning

There are of course many superstitions and rules of etiquette regarding mourning, and it would be foolish of me to try to tackle the entire subject in one post. I may revisit the issue in the future, but for now, I would just like for everyone reading this to take a moment to think of Tweek and Buffy and all the other fine creatures we have loved who have left us, and wish them well in their current homes.

ETIQUETTE: (from Vogue’s Book of Etiquette, 1948 edition) It is incorrect to wear any kind of feathers, even black ones, while in mourning. Except ostrich feathers. You can wear ostrich feathers.

SUPERSTITION: Cry for your loss, but do not literally shed tears over the dead. They will not be able to rest peacefully if your tears touch their body. Interestingly, it is said that the dead are blessed if rain falls upon their corpses.

Photo by SeenyaRita on flickr

Answers to the name of “Fricassee”

Snow day

Oh my goodness, who would think that the longest day of the year would be so cold? It’s cold, I tell you; cold! This is like some sort of arctic hell! I don’t know what that lunatic on the radio was talking about this morning when she told me to get to a cooling station or cooling center or whatever, because it’s freezing. Ice and snow and sleet everywhere. Brr! I hope I don’t freeze to death.

What? You say you’re hot? You want to go to the beach? You want to go for a swim? Are you insane? We should be bundling up and making snowballs or something. Come on; get out of the fridge. We can’t do anything until the snow plow comes anyway.