I’ve been on twitter for about a year, following news feeds, adding commentary here and there, and slowly building my (like-minded) follower base.

Last night, after responding in an innocuous way to an innocuous tweet, my account suddenly was frozen.  A warning box popped up and told me I was a bot. Say what?

I attempted to contact twitter support but was unable to send a message because, you guessed it, my account was frozen.  I had to log out of twitter in order for the message to go through.  Within the hour, I received an automated response:



So I changed my password three times and my account was still frozen.  I deactivated my account and reactivated it–still frozen. (The deactivation did manage, however, to delete all of my followers.)

I sent Twitter Support a snot-o-gram and told them what I thought about their customer service–which is, incidentally, non-existent.

To commemorate the occasion of my banishment I changed my twitter photo to outer space and my personal pic to an inukshuk.  An inukshuk is a stone structure build by the Inuit of the Canadian North. They are built on shorelines as navigational guides for other travellers.

I’m hoping the fools who developed the algorithms which froze me out find their way–and my followers.



Baby It’s Cold Outside

Here in Eastern Canada, we’ve been in a bit of a cold snap.  Lots of snow, and temps are hovering around -15c during the day to -20c at night. Most of us are starting to look like this:


Buddy the dog is particularly upset.  He’s informed me that the amount of snowfall has exceeded the acceptable snow-to-butt ratio and he’d much rather go indoors on a clean carpet than endure freezing snow up his nether regions.  We were at an impasse for a while, then negotiated a truce where we walk on the little walkway under the balconies where there’s hardly any snow at all, and he can poop to his heart’s content on the bare concrete.

Buddy is 14 years old, so in dog years he’s 98 and therefore has senority over me. Or so he tells me.

Death By Dyson

Every fall, thousands of lady bugs or boxelder insects launch an invasion force against the south side of all the apartment buildings. The little buggers sneak in through the tiniest cracks and crevices if the windows or sliding doors are open and make themselves at home.  The only way of keeping them out is for we apartment dwellers to hermetically sealed ourselves inside until the first frost comes, which is usually November.  And having all the windows closed on a nice fall day makes me grumpy.

So I have a new plan.

For the past few weeks I’ve kept my sliding door open and camped out in front, where they congregate the most.  Then I turn on my Dyson and suck them up.  They never knew what hit them.


The Terminator stands guard.  Buddy doesn’t care.

I stand victorious.

(Because I know you’re burning with desire to watch the bugs in action, here’s a video.  You’re welcome. 🙂