Cameroned

Pulling a Quickie here.  Here I go.

Pulling a Quickie is the opposite of Cameroning.

Pulling a Quickie can also be a crucial step in Cameroning.

Paradoxical isn't it?

The infinitive of Cameroning is "to Cameron."

Cameroning has probably been taking place for centuries, but no one is quite as good at it as R.B. Cameron, the Boatman's Dad. R.B. is so good at it that Luke Freeman, the Boatman's brother-in-law invented the verb "to Cameron" in his honour.  Thank you Mr. Freeman.

The Boatman is also very excellent at Cameroning.

Typically, the act of Cameroning begins with the Cameroner making you a very excellent proposition.  This proposition may involve eating something that is very high in gluten and very delicious.  Or maybe the Cameroner would like to take you to a beach, or on a boat ride, or on a ferris wheel.

Whatever it is, it is good enough for you to drop everything you're doing and say, Why Yes.  That would be wonderful.

 

So you get in the car and off you go for your gluten-rich snack, or your boat ride.  Today, let's pretend it's a boat ride.  You're very excited.  Then the Cameroner looks out the window and sees that there is Canadian Tire.  And doesn't he need clothespins?  Why yes he does.

And so the Cameroner and everyone on the way to the boat ride get out of the car.

And the Cameroner buys clothespins.  While he's at, it he remembers he also needs a strange appliance that will keep the cauliflower from clogging the kitchen sink, and a multi-directional miter saw, and adjustable shelving units.  The shelving units are mesmerizing and so are the barbecues. Barbecues, lawnmowers, storage solutions.  The Cameroner might need to pull a quickie in the fishing gear aisle while he's trying to decide.  Deciding takes a very long time, but finally the Cameroner walks out of the store with the cauliflower appliance, the saw, the shelving units and a rainbow fishing lure.

The Boatride is just around the corner. Except so is the office.  Actually, it's not.  The office is all the way across a bridge.   But the Cameroner looks out the window and remembers.  He has to scan his passport for some form he forgot to fill out last Wednesday.  Scan it and print it.  It is all of utmost importance, so you cross the long, long bridge to the office.  Like Canadian Tire, the office is a sensuous and captivating place.  There are filing cabinets, fax machines and a wide-screen monitor.  It's wonderful to see what the company website looks like on the wide screen.  The Cameroner shows you, and you get to see.  Lucky you.

Your luck continues after you leave the office, and the Cameroner stops under the bridge to show you the wall of concrete panels that the company made last July.

And if you're very lucky, you might also get to go to the Art Supply Store.

Or to the the Drugstore, where the Cameroner can buy brand-name q-tips, renew his prescription against Oyster-shaped cold sores, and you can take your blood pressure.

All this is called Being Cameroned.

Incidentally, I just Cameroned you, since I promised you a quickie, but instead went on and on.

I hope you don't feel too violated.

While I'm at it, here's a clip from Cheers, featuring Tim Miller performing Titthibhasana at the end.

How did Tim Miller end up on Cheers?

Here's the whole story at The Confluence Countdown.

While I'm still at it, here I am in Titibhasana A.

I will omit self-scrutiny from the Cameroning process.  But I will say that once I wrote a post called This is my snatch, and Titibhasana.  Somehow this became one of my most popular posts of all time.  My father thought this would be terrible for my reputation and employability.

He was right:  my reputation and employment level are both terrible.

But in better news, my groundbreaking post on Ashtanga Yoga and Oral Sex has 169 views.  Why not ruin the fun and make yourself the 170th? I ruined all the fun in 2016 when I reverted This is my snatch et. al. and Ashtanga Yoga and Oral Sex to draft. It is 2016 now.

See you on Twitter @mypelvicfloor

Or find ecstasy on facebook.

And that's it.  I Let Go.  The Cameroning is Finished.

The End. 

Me and the Boatman on a Boatride. Post-Cameroning. 

 

Exalted

This morning I woke up at 3:30 A.M.

To menstrual cramps and menstrual blood and cravings for toast and peanut butter.

James Altucher loves waking up before 4 A.M.  So today, I get to be a little bit like James Altucher, but with menstrual cramps.  I don't know if James Altucher likes toast.  

At 3 A.M., I was dreaming.  In my dream, I was sending a free copy of  my exceedingly helpful self-help book to Tim Miller.

In real life, I don't have Tim Miller's email address.



Tim Miller. In my dream, he desperately wanted a copy of my self-help book, I Let Go.
In real life, he probably doesn't need it.



In real life, there is water in my ear.  Especially the left one.

It could also be curly-haired conditioner.

Or some cerebral spinal fluid.  Must be time for some brand name Q-tips, purchased with the Boatman during our Drugstore Date.

These brandname Q-tips come in a package of 54, which 108 divided by 2, which is a very auspicious box to come from when you are a brand-name Q-tip.

The Brandname Q-tips really hit home with folks from Perth Ontario.   Perth, Ontario is the prettiest town in Ontario.  What's more, in 2008, we had four Olympians.  3 of them were born in 1984.  Since I was a gifted child, I got to be in their classes, even though I was born in 1985.  Oh look!  Here's Mike Brown:

Mike Brown. What I think in my head when I look at this photo:
What a babe.

A real champ.  I used to swim in the lane beside him.  Then I was his lifeguard.   Once I helped him with his English Essay.  Now Mike Brown has huge pipes.  Mike Brown is preparing for the Olympic Trials at the end of the month. Wish him luck.  Good luck, Mike Brown.

Mike Brown and all the other people from Perth Ontario know that you shouldn't stick Q-tips up your ears, not even brand name q-tips.  I used to know this but some conditioner or cerebral spinal fluid got stuck in my ears, especially the left one, and it has been so long since I lived in Perth, Ontario that I forgot.  So this morning I stuck some brand name q-tips up my ears.  Especially in the left one.  What I found there:  It wasn't conditioner.  I do not think that I will do that again.  Not with the brandname Q-tips.

There are 20 more days left of Lent.  Lent is 46 days this year.  Last year at this time, I started a post entitled "Lent."  It seems I didn't have that much to say about it.

Yesterday the doorbell rang and the Big Black Dog barked so loudly that the man with the pamphlet couldn't come in.  He slipped his pamphlet into my hand through the crack in the door.  On the pamphlet Jesus was standing on a cloud.  He had white hair and a crown.



Jesus says, "Where is my crown?"



The pamphlet said:  "Jesus is an exalted King.  But what does that mean to you?"  I don't know what it means to me.  Neither does the Boatman.  We can go find out at the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's witness on Holy Thursday after the Boatman washes my feet.  I am not allowed to talk about my toenail fungus ever again.

26 days ago, more or less, the Boatman and I were sitting on the couch.

 "What do you want to give up for Lent?" I asked

"What's Lent?"  asked the Boatman.  

Last year for Lent, I tried to give up an hour of my time to meditation.  I wanted to be Zen, like the Buddha.  And exalted, like Jesus.  I made it eight days.

This year, the Boatman resolved to give up eating all meat except for seafood.  Since I already never eat anything with a mother or a face, I decided I would try to give up 20 minutes of my time to meditate.   I thought that it would help me become Zen and Exalted.  As the Boatman and I observed, I became increasingly neurotic as the days and the 20 minute chunks of exalted time passed.  I worried about the gunk in my ear.  And all sorts of other things.  And I had terrible dreams that weren't about Tim Miller.

While I was meditating, the Boatman ate a lot of fish and chips.

fish and chips and peas.

Sometimes with green peas, sometimes without.  Last weekend, the Boatman and I flew to Montreal.  On the airplane we decided that while in Montreal, I would not meditate and the Boatman would eat chicken.  We had a wonderful visit.  I did not worry about the gunk in my ears at all.  Which was a good thing because I'd forgotten my brandname Q-tips.

When we got back to Halifax, our housesitter had clogged our kitchen sink with Honey Nut Cheerios, and our bathtub with Johnny Walker puke.  I cleaned up the Cheerios and have not started to meditate again.  I Let Go, like in my self-help book.  The Boatman let go too.

You too can let go, for $2.99.

Jesus is an exalted king.  But what does that mean to you?

Jesus might say:  Chicken is not the end of the world.  But watch out for the pepperoni and the French Fries.  

Dix frites ont 110 calories.  (Ten French Fries have 110 calories)  This sentence was on my grade six French Grammar class.  I have never forgotten it, and have cringed at the thought of French Fries ever since.

ONT stands for Ontario and it is also French for have, if you are more than one person, or more than one French Fry.

I was always very good at conjugation.  Mike Brown was in my class.

Seventeen Magazine.  I read it in grade six, when I was ten.  Recall that I was a gifted child and thus the youngest person in grade six.  Seventeen Magazine had a column called Ask Anything.  The question I never forgot was:  Why do I always get the runs when I'm on the rag?  I can't remember the answer, but I never forgot the question.  There are so many reasons to ask it.  Especially at this time of month. 

Runs on the rag.  My friend Fern calls it "Peanut Butter and Jam."  Gross.  I hope I sleep better tonight.  Tomorrow I will be Zen and Exalted.  Today is brown and bloody and very high in calories.  But my team spirit and conjugation are impeccable.  My memory is also rather impressive.

James Altucher says that you must always bleed in the first line.  Today, I don't have to try at all.  I have been bleeding since 3:30 A.M.  I bled in my first line, I am bleeding in my last.  I will bleed all day.

The End.

Peanut Butter and Jam, Vice Versa

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go, self-help book by Erica J. Schmidt

The Earth Will Shake Us Off Like Fleas
Holy Thursday
Spiritual Beard, Secular Vagina