Desperate for exercise, I spent half an hour yesterday jogging around Liberty City. My cousin wanted me to steal a police Hummer and shoot innocent bystanders. Instead, I ended my relaxing run in an Emergency Room with grenades that put all us invalids out of our collective miseries.

Usually after a run I just do pigeon pose.

With my foot damaged and my mind speeding the internets have provided me with other less violent places to go.

I’ve proposed to a wide variety of rural Christian girls. I’ve been sending tinkly poetry composed of lines culled from my favourite horror novels/movies and songs. For example: Your new society sounds charming, Mine Mine Mind, My heart burns there, too.* No responses yet.

Yesterday I dropped a community move for a family whose patriarch is working in Egypt. It was amazing. So many people came to help, the trucks were unloaded and unpacked in less than an hour.

My iphone is now maxed out with 148 apps. That’s the limit, in case you were wondering. I’ve tried out every one of them and at this very second CameraBag and CamTimer are my favourite. With these simple tools I can easily take obsessive medium shots of my aching foot that look as though I used a Helga camera. Take that photographers! Yesterday my favourite app was FakeCalls because it let me sit up here on Georgian Bay and feel popular.

Much to the chagrin of my family, I have proposed social networks as a solution to every problem. So far I’ve got them signed up for Twitter (naturally), Grandcentral and Farecompare. They still get the Owen Sound Sun Times delivered though. I can’t seem to convince them to stop waiting for delivery van to stuff it in their mailbox even though I’ve already read it all online. I tried to throw out their printer and fax machine but my bad foot has limited me to just repeatedly disconnecting the landline. 

But perhaps my greatest feat (pun!) of all is solving my aunt’s lifelong quest via the socialnets. For 38 years she has searched for a poem Vincent Price read on The Mod Squad about hyacinths. She bet her husband two million dollars that it really existed. After five minutes of searching with Mahalo and Joongel, I played this for her:

A Time For Hyacinths

*(Vincent Price) Last Man on Earth, (Rocky Erickson) Openers II, (Stephen King) It.