The great hunt begins

Speaking of (evil roman schemes) searching for frogspawn way too early, I went outside today, (shock horror!) in search of said creatures and this supposed early spring... This is all I could find that was of any interest...

a pair of emotionally detached ducks...

a rather handsome evil tree...

and a pretty old rock hanging in the sky.

Meanwhile my froggy house-friends seem to be doing a little better at this spring mating stuff...

The Romans had the last laugh

The minions of Britain have recently been informed by the BBC that spring has come early this year, which given that only last month we were under at least a foot in snow, is understandably causing somewhat of a slight confusion.

But that is certainly not what has been the object of my confusion recently. Every year it has become, to some extent, a tradition for us to go out across the commons and examine the yearly frog spawn situation, (I say it like that not to sound like a curious child but more like an aspirant herpetologist...but I suspect it’s not working) and every single year I get way ahead of myself. I assume that after Christmas, the new year and January will follow, trailed not too distantly by spring and therefore frog spawning.

(So in my head it works like this: January = frogspawn)

Even though I’m well aware that spring begins in late march and subsequently so does the mating of creatures, when January lurks just round the corner I still direct my attention to the coming of tadpoles, and then get a shock when I have to wait over two months for them to appear.

Spring is taught as the first season of the four. It’s spring, summer, autumn, winter and if you type seasons into Google images you will be plagued with images featuring spring as the first season of the year. But it’s not. Not really. Winter frequently continues to brutally freeze our most private of bodily areas from the first day of the year long into the month of March...

So who invented this ridiculous illogical calendar? The Romans apparently. It seems that giving us many of the tools to construct the underrated incredibly complex and advanced civilized world which we live in today wasn’t enough for them, they decided it would be best to gift us with their calendar designs, which was clearly, created with the intent to cause maximum frustration, confusion and upset. (Of which I’m now certain was all directed at me and my love of amphibian related stuffs.) Bastards. Complete and utter bastards. Romani ite domum.

It's all in the name

I was browsing the BBC website when I came across an interesting story brought to me from across the great pond. Apparently there has recently been a not so magical event going down at SeaWorld. For those of you that already know where this is going, I am of course referring to the death of that SeaWorld trainer killed by her own trainee, a killer whale by the name of Tilikum.

Sad, yes...a surprise, hardly. For the love of good judgment, its KILLER whale not KIND whale! I’m not saying these sea dwelling mammals can’t be friendly and fun, I’m saying they aren’t ALL friendly and fun. There is an element to all wild animals, especially those given the title of killers, which includes blood lust and aggression. I honestly can’t understand why people are still surprised when they go nuts and drown someone. I would have thought incidents such as this would be used as a very obvious basis for why these animals should not be confined to giant bath tubs.

No...I’m not a member of P.E.T.A. I am however, a confined mammal myself, and I certainly sympathise and appreciate how confinement (few truly comprehend the loneliness, frustration and boredom that comes with this) can often lead to one having certain psychopathic tendencies. Although, I personally am unlikely to drown someone, not just out of human morality, but a social interaction induced phobia, which would make it difficult for me to meet a person, let alone hold them down long enough to kill them. It is my belief that a whale would not have these human complications and that’s why he was able to go through with it...

My self-detained imprisonment

I mention above that I’m a self-detained prisoner; if you didn’t notice that before, in answer to your unasked but likely question, no, I’m not a convict on house arrest. Do not be alarmed, resistance is (futile!) unnecessary. In fact given my situation I’m extremely unlikely to commit a crime. Because to commit a crime will very probably require me to leave the house and interact with other human beings in an aggressive and rather dominant fashion...I expect. And that’s simply not going to happen...let me explain.

I hardly leave the house and when I do it is most defiantly not for the purpose of socialising. In fact, I avoid that at all costs. I began to have a sneaking suspicion that this was abnormal behaviour when I began hiding (leaping to the floor behind the sofa) from the post peoples when they knocked the door...”umm,” you think, “insanity is plentiful in this one,” and I’m sure you would be right.

An accurate representation of the repeat offenders and personal antagonisers – the post peoples

And that is the main reason why I started this blog. In the attempt to have a somewhat conversation...with myself...online...about some of my more...profound opinions...on the bread conspiracy and how everyone has inside them...a demon pussy cat...

You know what? I think it would just be better in the long run if I just say I’m on house arrest...at least then I seem more like a slightly frustrated delinquent rather than full blow psychopath (And stop laughing at the image of me as some sort of rarely seen endangered animal, flinching at any noise or movement that could be human related, nestling between a stack of old newspapers in the hopeless attempt at avoiding contact – even though you wouldn’t be too far from the truth.)

Any post peoples reading this, should fully understand that the living labyrinth feels no ill towards them personally, but should be aware that the post peoples sudden, and in her opinion unnecessary, approach in to her territory causes her stress and alarm. Please bare this in mind when strolling into other individuals (psychopaths) territories.

Naughty, naughty...

This has been sat on my shelf watching me sleep for months. I simply had to share it. What kind of person would give a teenager this for Christmas? Perhaps another teenager with equal enthusiasm to perversion. Umm...methinks this shall need further investigation.

The great bread conspiracy

We have recently begun to buy brown bread again. Now I know I’m no scientist, but I like to think I have a pretty knowledgeable understanding of...things. Of these...things, I know that, for example, brown bread is better for you than white bread. I’m not 100% on why that is, but I’m sure it makes you live longer, makes your heart beat harmoniously like that of an Olympic athlete and makes your stool glisten healthy from depths of the toilet bowl. Something along those lines I imagine. But recently my, quite frankly solid understanding of the bread hierarchy fell apart when I discovered this...

The first shows the unwholesome evil that is white bread, and the second shows the delightful natural seediness that is brown bread. Have you spotted it yet? No, your eyes do not deceive you I’m afraid it’s true; the brown bread is a fraud.

The brown bread we brought contained more calories, more salt and more fat. This has detroyed all I know of bread (which is much) and in light of this revelation, I feel deceived.

The living labyrinth would like to stress she feels no ill towards brown bread or the bread industry and she is aware that in some instances it is the white bread that is the more devious of the two breads.