It's a virtual life

I just found out that my coworker, let's call her mm, is a virtual farmer. She gets up every real-life morning when the virtual cock crows, takes her virtual hoe and does some virtual hoeing, gets in her virtual car and goes down to the virtual co-op to buy some virtual seeds (you don't pay real money for them, do you, I interrupt, picturing a sort of agricultural Second Life), then returns to her virtual plot to virtually plant them. She is doing all this so that she can grow enough virtual crops to sell at the virtual market to make enough virtual money to do some other virtual thing, which eludes me at the moment. I feel OK blogging about this because when mm told me about this peculiar pastime I told her she should blog about it, but since she's so busy virtually gardening she doesn't have time for real-life blogging. So she said I should do it. Earlier in the day she told me about something else she does that is so peculiar I told her she needs to blog about it too, and again, she told me I should do it. Which I would do, except that I can't remember what it was. This is what makes me such a poor storyteller. When I went back to ask mm she couldn't remember either. Which also makes her a rather poor storyteller, virtual or otherwise. But wow, does she ever have a virtual green thumb--you should see the size of her virtual melons.

Parrot reveals all

My favourite news story this week is about a pet parrot turned informant, leading the police to its owners' grow-op.The police seized the plants, but the perpetrators got to keep the poor parrot. Its goose may be cooked. I think it should have been put into a witness protection program instead, and relocated to a statue where it could have lived out the rest of its life as a (stool) pigeon.

A violet frenzy

I usually have very few floracidal tendencies. Because of this, I have a frenzy of violet activity in my front yard. I'm not kidding about the frenzy—in spite of utter neglect on my part, the violets look like they belong in whatever is left of the Brazilian rainforest. They're muscling out the hosta, ferns, creeping juniper and even the cedar tree. I don't have much more to say at the moment, except that I'm about to embark on a killing spree. Thus demonstrating that violets beget violence.