Smokin' Morty is freaking me right out. He just sits there, all... baby like... and smokes! All freakin' day! Creepy little baby...
I think he may have to have an accident. Little ceramic smoking babies should probably not play on the edge of balconies in an apartment building... mwahahaha!!!
Anyhow, I'm sure all my devoted fans (One? Anybody? Hello? It's cold and there are wolves... Aarrrooooooo... Well, crap.) are just ecstatic that I am writing again...
I was in Ontario. And Quebec. I had a funeral to go to. It was odd. A lot of travel involved...
On the plus side, whilst in Toronto, I was taken to a lovely Asian fusion restaurant (Thanks to my lovely aunt!) called Ki. Super delicious fantastic food. Two big, fat, sated thumbs up.
On the negative side, I was again made aware of the fact that I have a big ol' cemetery plot just waiting for me in "the family graveyard". Oh. My. God. Nobody ever believes me when I tell them this, but my father bought me a plot in the cemetery that some of his side of the family is buried in. And thought it would be nice to show me. This can really, really, mess you up when you're twelve. I actually wrote my wishes to be cremated and scattered by the age of thirteen, because I was having anxiety dreams about being buried in this plot in the middle of freakin' nowhere, surrounded by my father's relatives (okay, and mine, but I've never met 99% of them! What if I have to spend all eternity talking to them, and they're boring? Or worse, like my grandmother (God rest her soul), and questioning why I wasn't buried in a nice skirt with stockings in between various derogatory remarks about people they despise for no apparent reason!!). Wow. So, anyway, I was going to take a picture of "my plot" for this entry, but my camera batteries died in the graveyard right after I took a picture of my grandparents' headstone. Isn't it ironic? Or creepy. Take your pick.