Joss Whedon’s “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog” is finally live. Act 1 was released today, and in a a show of awesomeness that one would expect from Joss Whedon, before the day was out it was viewable to the world at large. Not just the US. The fact that things are only viewable in the US drives me nuts. Now. It didn’t bother me at all when I lived in the US because I didn’t know how hard the rest of the world had it!

I’ve learned a lot this past year, haven’t I? Anyway… GO WATCH IT!

Oh how I love the Dancing Matt videos. Watching this repeatedly is so much more fun than cleaning house, which is what I am supposed to be doing today.

I’ve already seen this on a number of blogs. Most likely, you have too. However, if you have not, enjoy!

Or go here and watch it in High Quality. It looks prettier that way. You can also watch it, and the past dancing videos on the “Where the Hell is Matt?” website.

I don’t dance. Or, I don’t dance in places where dancing is expected. Clubs, weddings, parties and the like. Too much pressure. This video proves what I have always believed, dancing is better in places, and times, where it’s least expected

Happy 4th of July, USA. I miss you. Later, I will wear my US Flag 4th of July boxers to bed in celebration. Also, I might eat some apple pie.

Raul had an interesting post this morning about our (Americans) tendency to refer to ourselves as Americans, when there are so many more Americans out there. Technically, it’s a continent, so Canadians and Mexicans are also Americans.

This is not meant as a rebuttal. This is simply a different perspective. Since I’ve moved here, and spoken with more Canadians, I’ve realized this is a slightly sore spot. And I totally get it. I have a tendency to say, now, that I am “from the States” instead of “American” so as not to offend. However, inevitably, someone will say “oh, you are from ALL THE STATES? That’s AMAZING.” Which drives me nuts, cuz I’m trying to be all sensitive and shit. I’m working from your outlook here, kid, so cut me some slack.

Ok, so we are all Americans. But, really, we are all NORTH Americans. There are actually massive amounts of Americans to the south of us as well, let’s not forget. This is flaw número uno in the “Let’s All be Americans,” plan. Flaw numéro deux is our fault, the USA’s.

Fact is, we are the only ones who actually use the world “America” in our name. And by doing so, we sorta stuck our flag in it, didn’t we? I apologize for bogarting it. Nonetheless, do not begrudge us our BEness. That is to say, I am from the United States, but American is what I am. (Also I am North American) I don’t know why we took the name, but we did. People from Canada get to be Canadians. People from Mexico get to be Mexican. Unfortunately, we did not choose to say were are United States of Americans. Too long, I suppose. USAsians just sounds dumb, and could be confused with “Asian” which someone is already using. But we should have the same ability to say what we are, in addition to where we are from, right?

Listen, my fellow North American friends who are not from the US, saying your American is sort of a mixed bag, too. When someone says they are Canadian, people say “Oh I love Canada! You guys are so nice and polite. Thank you for all the fine comedians. And natural resources!”

When someone says they are Mexican… ok, I just realized saying you are Mexican to someone in the US is also a mixed bag. Most people would say “Oh Mexico, so beautiful, and I went down there on vacation just last year. Loved it! By the way, thank you for the cuisine. So delicious. Seriously. Love it!”

But then others would just look at you suspiciously and ask to see your green card. And that, right there, kids, is the reason telling the rest of the world you are American can you get you trouble. So, really, you don’t need the hassle. Leave the potential hostility to those who worked hard to earn it. The US.

That being said, for all your flaws, I love you United States of America*! Happy Independence Day!

*Even the 51% of you who are responsible for keeping Bush in office 4 more years. What’s done is done, let’s move on.

For the last few weeks, I have been attending a Restorative Yoga class, once a week, with Airdre. And, I have to confess, I’m not very good at it. (Although my teachers say, every week that this is yoga practice, not yoga perfect.) I can only imagine how delightful this class must be for people with busy, stressful, lives.

You would think that someone as inherently lazy as I am would be aces* at a class of relaxing in different positions with pillows and blankets. At regulated breathing and quieting the mind. Wrong! I am an incredibly twitchy person, it seems. And my mind? Here we are, supposed to be concentrating on something we want more of in our lives, such as love or heath or some such shit, and all I can think about is taking over Russia with Wil when he gets home from work! Thinking about warfare, even fake warfare, when you are supposed to be breathing peace is just wrong. Or I write blog posts. It would sadden you to know that my most brilliant blog posts exist only in my mind during yoga, or when I am trying to fall asleep, never to make it out onto page. Seriously… GENIUS stuff.

I try to wrangle my brain back in. I try to concentrate on my breathing. I try saying a word, in my mind, when I breath in, and another when I breath out. I try to make them positive words, but they usually end up being “cheeeeeeeese burgeeeerrrrrrr.” The millisecond I stop focusing, which is often, I am backing to thinking about anything but relaxing. Last week was particularly difficult as I had had a bad headache that day, so I had taken a couple of excedrin. And I had also had a big gulp of Dr Pepper, which is unusual these days. I was over caffeinated and buzzing like a bumblebee. And I kept thinking about swimming. And bunnies. Bunnies… hopping happy bunnies bunnies BUNNIES I love bunnies need more bunnies in my life HOP HOP HOP omigod bunnies are AWESOME. Whoosh! And food and food, mmmm… cheese burgers.. steak I LIKE MEAT! And ick, I need to clean the house. I hate cleaning house. In what order should I clean the rooms? Start in the kitchen and go in circle until I end the living room? Maybe I should go the opposite way for once, except … all those dirty dishes. Forget it, let’s think about war instead. Russia is going down. Oh it’s on, Catherine the Great.

Let’s face it, I’m a mental AND physical spaz. But I keep practicing. The first day I was back after the flu, I was still terribly congested. I brought in a box of kleenix and a plastic bag to put my used tissues in, as I didn’t go more than 5 mins without blowing my nose or coughing up a piece of my lung. It’s very quiet and dark and relaxed in yoga, and one of the teachers came over and asked if she could do some energy work on me, which I said was fine. Airdre later told me she is a reiki master. That is just about the sweetest thing ever. Whether or not your are into energy work, to have someone come over to you and work their healing craft on you.. the sincere intention that you feel better is beneficial in of itself.

*You know what I am truly aces at? Procrastination. I could go pro in procrastination. I wish there was a procrastination olympics, except I’d probably miss the sign up.

And I am not sure why. I have made no changes since the last time someone commented successfully.

Bummer.

I did something today that I have been threatening to do for months. Years, actually. I started swimming lessons. Swimming is the only physical activity I have ever truly loved.

Now, I know how to swim. I’ve been jumping in pools since I was a wee tyke, according to my mother. But I haven’t had swim lessons since I was a kid. I know my form is probably somewhere in the “spaz” range, so I thought I would take lessons. Be all swift like a fishy, and swim laps during the daytime adult lap swim.

Good lord, that sounds like an exercise plan. Armageddon arriving shortly.

My first lesson was this evening and it was AWESOME. Almost instantly I felt all the tightness and tension in my neck and shoulders protesting. Not in a “ouch this hurts you’d better stop that this instant way.” But more in a “hey, if you keep this up we might not stick around” way.

AWESOME, oui?

Since I enjoyed it so much, this means I get to go out and buy accessories. I bought a suit a couple of months ago. But now I’m going to get some goggles, and I think I am going to get a swim cap because, even in a pony tail, my hair keeps getting in my face. Oh and a sassy bag to carry my equipment in and probably a special towel JUST FOR SWIMMING. Oh, and that shampoo that gets chlorine out of your hair. I need that.

Because I’m a swimmer now.

There is a spider that has been living in or around my desk for the last week. He’s very tiny. I do not think he could make the leap from my desk top, to my neck, which is why he still lives. When he’s on the curtain, I scoot away to the right, however. Just in case.

I have tried, numerous times, to scoop him up and take him outside. He has evaded me, thus far.

His name is Boris. Duh. All spiders are named Boris or Natasha. Thems the rules. I don’t makes them and I don’t breaks them.

Well, there we were last night, with a surprising number of people. 98% of them male. I saw one GF type person leave with her BF, he was carrying a special edition box of GTA 4. She had the look of “chauffeur” about her. I imagine this was tat for some mall shopping companionship tit from the recent past. And I saw a mom type lady from far back towards the end of the line.

We pulled in at 11, and then walked over to the Timothy Horton’s for coffee. When we pulled in, there were two people sitting by the door. By 11:15, there were about 14, so Wil got in line. I stayed in the car until about 11:45. It’s a good thing he got in line, because by the time I joined him, it went around the building. It’s not that we wouldn’t get a copy. We were guaranteed a copy since I pre-ordered a special edition copy for his birthday weeks ago. (It was from the kittens) It was just a matter of how long we had to wait once the store opened. They were only letting 10 people in at a time. It’s a rather small store, that EB games.

Like I said, it was mostly guys in line. Boys… guys… men…. all shapes and sizes and ages, and all obsessed. I had no doubt the second Wil joined the line he would have someone to talk to. They were all buzzing with excitement. There was a dad type fellow who was there with a kid, no older than 8. (Didn’t that kid have to go to school this morning? That’s all I want to know. ) The kid apparently knew a couple of guys in line behind us, and spent most of the time back there, filling their heads with random facts.

“Did you know that Bill Gates is the richest man in the world, but Madonna’s kids are worth more.”

He also implied that he’d seen both American History X and Porky’s, to which both gentlemen professed some degree of distress. I have to admit, when he started talking about Porky’s, I might have gasped a little. This kid was young.

Apparently it was all too much for the boys in line, that last ten minutes. The Dad started utilizing the Kid to trick the EB lady in opening the door early. The kid was all over this task. He was begging, pleading, professing a wicked need to pee. But to no avail. Finally the kid slapped the door and shouted “You’re mean!” A collected gasp was heard through out the line. The dad sent him back to the two guys behind us, while everyone said “Whoa, dude… you took it too far.”

This is Canada after all.

Oh, you KNOW I’m going to be needing these for my collection.

They are almost too wonderful to be true.