binder clips

Perusing David Scrimshaw's blog comments recently, it came to my attention that he has started to feel a little alone in his love of binder clips.

But but but! But I am seared to my core with sorrow that this should be so. How could he doubt the true and deep love I have for binder clips?

No, fear not, David Scrimshaw! You will never be alone in your love for this deceptively simple piece of office equipment.

I still very much love binder clips, but am running out of amusing ways to use them. I'm down to the completely utilitarian.

However, since utilitarian is what I've got, utilitarian is what you get.

Ages ago, I put one of those cheapie ikea railings under the shelf above my sink. I hung my fish scrubbie there, and that's also where the rubber gloves flop to dry in the winter. But one day, when there was no more room on the fridge to stick another ziploc bag to dry, I came up with this. It requires binder clips on the larger size, but the bags dry very well, since 1) the back of them isn't touching anything and 2) their bottoms tip back a bit, which makes them fall open a bit, which increases the air circulation and decreases the drying time.

Because what's more fun for El Penguino than a rousing game of "Let's Put Them Back in the Jar" now, I ask you.

After a very nice time in Montreal, with lots of satisfying chats with Shelley, good frip shopping, a great visit with Amy and lots of drinking and dancing till the wee hours at Meow Mix, I got home and found this novel device.

I'd left Eric a bottle of wine as a thank you for taking care of Freya. He drank some of it, but not all of it. What is a boy to do in a house ill-prepared for a half-drunk bottle of wine? As it turns out, a little bit of plastic wrap, a binder slip and some ingenuity will give you the answer to that question.

P.S. Sorry the picture is so small and blurry. A binder clip on a wine bottle is a very hard thing to take a good picture of.

Hello ducks. I just got home from a party at David Scrimshaw's house. If you're ever invited, I highly recommend going to a party at David Scrimshaw's house, where people will call him strange things like "Dave" and you will get to see the very clever TV apparatus he made.

If it is Hallowe'en, you will get to wear some kind of last minute costume that you might call "silver," that everyone will get their same weird eyebrows on about but no one will ever say, I'm sorry, that's not a real costume, because they are very polite people.

I was quite chuffed with myself because I'd managed to work a binder clip into my costume. But one of the first things that David said to me was, "Well, you've been outdone! Look at the woman by the sink!" I did, but could see nary a binder clip.

Then I got closer. Marcie, who is the famous Marcie of the Spanish discotheques, had made her dress by using very prettily coloured binder clips to clip some fabric together. I really wished that I had thought of that first. Really, how much more successful would "silver" be if "silver" were silver fabric clipped by silver binder clips. This is what separates the plebes from the artistes.

I also got to talk to several Elgin Street Irregulars, who always seem to show up at David's parties, and I drove a hard bargain with the 4th Dwarf, demanding two pints of beer as my blog consultancy fees. Like I'm going to have any ideas with just one pint. Ha. Fact is, I'm not sure they need *any* ideas, but I'm selfish, and I'd like to sit in on an emergency meeting.

Also, I have to say, and you know I'm only saying this because I decided to finish off the Jameson's (and I like it neat, thank you*), I think it is safe to say that I adore David Scrimshaw. When Jennifer and I are talking, it is quite rare that David Scrimshaw does not come up. So how pleased was I when he not only started seeing a librarian, but a librarian that I HAD ALREADY MET and already thought was MY KIND of librarian. Manon is lovely. This picture is supposed to be the two of us together, looking like librarians are supposed to look, but this librarian had her eyes closed and looked like a schmuck, which is not how librarians are supposed to look, so instead, I just show you Manon and her fabulous gams. Hotcha, David Scrimshaw, and congratulations.**

*Unless I'm with Eric, and then I like a hot toddy.
**And since I've been asked if David made a special announcement leading up to my congratulations, I will add this note to say no, the congratulations are more general in nature.

Jennifer has an expression that I love. When she's about to go out, she talks about hitting herself with the pretty stick. Well, Saturday night, Shelley and I got out the pretty club. It took us more than an hour to get ready for the ACO Poz Party. This from a girl who can go for days without brushing her hair.

We wore make up. We wore corsets. I wore heels and garters and fishnets and my underwear. Shelley wore a wig and pants. When I got home the next day I was stunned by the state of my apartment. There was stuff everywhere. Small filmy bits of stuff. Lacy and sparkly and powdery stuff.*

Shelley was reading the paper in bed. "It looks like a girl exploded in here," I said as I sat down by her feet. "Who lives here?"

What a fucking fun night. I really had one hell of a lot of fun. I danced, I ground myself up against pretty girls and boys, I kissed Eric hard when our friends weren't looking. I got a lot of attention because of, you know, being in my underwear. I soaked it up like instead of being the girlfriend of a very affectionate and attentive boy, I had been by myself on some ice floe for two years. I was pretty excited to get rated on the fabulous scale by some pretty fabulous gay men. What made everything even more fun was that I knew I was going home with Eric, who kept looking at me like he'd swallowed the canary. That look made me pretty happy about getting him home.

The burlesque was terrific too. Nico, one of the organizers, wore gold lamé pants and halloween teeth and glasses and danced to "It's a Man's World," I believe, though I wasn't particularly focussed on the music, I have to say. There were kings with vegetables in their pants and femmes smearing themselves with nutella.**

The audience got into it too, wearing slinky stuff or getting themselves up in drag and costumes. There was much dancing and drinking and having of fun by all.

I've been trying to think of a good way of fitting in this picture of Shelley, but fuck it, I'm just putting it here because she's hot. Why should I need a reason other than that?

*Those who are astute will notice two things that are not generally described by terms such as those: 1 CD by the dulcet-voiced banjo maniac Andrea Simms-Karp, to which I am listening right now and is giving me goosebumps what with the voice and the bass and the organ, which sure is not sparkly, but does have a somewhat lacy motif on the cover; also, one binder clip, which was out because it was going to be instrumental in one of the possible outfits, which was definitely sparkly.
**Did I enjoy writing the words "femmes" "smearing" and "nutella" in the same sentence? Oh yes. Yes I did.

I'm spreading the bug.

From Amy on Facebook: As a tribute to my sister, here is a use for binder clips: holding up your pants that don't have belt loops (I have two pairs of pants I use binder clips on!)

Of course, what she really meant to say was "as a tribute to David Scrimshaw."

From Eric in my kitchen.

You know what's hot?

Showing up at your girlfriend's house wearing a shirt with a missing button you've cleverly repaired with a miniature binder clip.

In so many ways.