What the fuck is wrong with these people?

There are days when you think you've seen every heart-wrenching moment life has to deliver, and then the Internet brings you more. You might, after just watching the first minute, think that that's enough but, oh no, you have to fast forward to the last 30 seconds or so to see the real tragedy in this (yes, safe for work) video: God Hates The World.

What the fuck is wrong with these people? I hate to ruin your Sunday (especially given the nature of the video), but we're talkin' goatse units of wrongness.

[Hat Tip: Pharyngula]

Saturday: Song, Dance, Gardening, Kitsch

Saturday started with my waking up and working on my latest shiny story, rather than anything I've committed to finishing for my audience, which bothers me only a little. I still write primarily for me, and decide after the fact what I want to show the rest of the world.

After an hour or so, the rest of the family woke up. There was a game of musical laps as each child got the requisite snuggles, and then we scrambled to get Kouryou-chan into her dance clothes for a 9:45 rehearsal. Apparently, the dance studio is going all-out to make sure the kids are completely ready for the next performance, and they're rehearsing on a really heavy schedule. After noon, Yamaraashi-chan was slated to perform with her choir at a church memorial, and Omaha and she had a bit of a tiff about what would be appropriate for a church service. Omaha prevailed, and a good thing too, as everyone else was dressed as formally as she had recommended, not as Yamaraashi-chan had wished. The memorial was only an hour long, thankfully not terribly long, but she's not a fidgety kid.

Omaha and I spent the afternoon gardening. We mowed the entire lawn, trimmed it, dug out weeds within the grass, weeded the back garden, and made sure the newly planted cherry tree has enough water. It was backbreaking work all around. I also had to trim the oak tree's lower skirt, which had dropped down to eye-poking level, which created a tragedy, as Kouryou-chan could no longer climb up into it. I fashioned a primitive rope ladder for her (see how sad it is when kinky gear gets repurposed? The 3/4" nylon was too thick and hot for, uh, "play" anyway) and she was able to get up.

A car for Tonya

The late afternoon we drove out to the Burien Strawberry Festival, a weekend of kitsch all in one place. We had the annual, traditional strawberry shortcake, then wandered up and down the aisle of marketeers hawking kitsch: cutting boards in the shape of lobsters, denim stuffed dolls, bead dragons and panda bears, handmade hats, tie dye, and so forth. There was a guy there with a car completely decorated in Thai handwriting selling varieties of incense; the license plate read "Ganesha." And there was the car in the photograph, which for some reason made me think of tonyawinter.

We ran into Dave Upthegrove, our local state congressman (yes, that is his myspace blog there). I took photos of the band and he asked me for one, as a friend of his was in it. Omaha commented that I loved taking photos, and I said, "Yeah, but that's mostly just to mock them." There's truth in there.

Kouryou-chan played on the bouncy castle supplied by the local churches while people wearing bright "Jesus Loves You!" yellow shirts wandered around; that seemed to be the height of their proseletyzing at this hour, but sometimes it makes me aware just how deep in eschatonland Burien really is.

We got home and killed off the leftovers in the 'fridge, then played a round of Whoonu, a cute game Yamaraashi-chan had gotten for her birthday in which you win points for accurately predicting best what your other family members like most, before sending both girls off to their respective showers.

I sat down with each one and combed through their hair, using a detangler and later conditioner to make sure they wouldn't have horrible ratsnests. That's a slow, painstaking job, especially with Kouryou-chan, who has her mother's hair that loves to catch and bind. Yamaraashi-chan seems to have lucked out and gotten my hair, which never tangled quite so badly as her mother's. They went to bed without much trouble.

Sunday: Omaha takes the girls shopping

Sunday, I made pancakes and then, while I cleaned the kitchen and put away a few days' worth of laundry (naughty Elf!), Omaha had the girls go through their wardrobes and either hand stuff down or throw it out. Once we had done all of that it was time to head over to the mall for shopping.

Omaha told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't to help. So I found a Tully's coffee and sat down to write. I did about 2,000 words, not too bad, and wasn't even too hot to get to the sex scene, a good sign that the story has a place to go. I did wander around, went to the Apple store and talked to the geeks there, before Omaha called me and had me meet them for lunch.

After lunch, I sat in the other Tully's and did another 1,200 words or so before the battery died. Damn, I really miss that backup battery. Then I was left to sit at the entrance where I was scheduled to meet the girls and read. Fortunately, I had brought my copy of Consider Phlebas with me, a book that seriously reveals the limitations of Banks' imagination upon a second reading. I tried to do some girlwatching, but almost every woman who walks through Bellevue Square Mall looks so artificial, so dolled up. I've seen RealDolls that looked better than some of these dames. There were a few exceptions, Omaha being one of them.

It's really hard to believe that I didn't see anything I wanted. I mean, sure, there were things I would have liked to have: a new laptop with a long-life battery, an 80GB ipod, a copy of The Gourmet Cookbook from Williams-Sonoma, but nothing that called out to me and said, "Elf! Buy me. Buy me!" Not even Lush tempted me to purchases.

The whole trip lasted five hours. By the time we got home, it was almost six in the evening. The weather had been typical Seattle schizophrenia all day. I made dinner, spaghetti and home-made sauce, then cleaned the kitchen. I had to make a run to the store for milk while Omaha got the girls ready for bed.

After they were in their pyjamas, I downloaded the karaoke version of "RE: Your Brains!" and we listened to them sing along before sending them to bed.