Just when you thought you'd had enough Canrdies, MORE CANARDIES!

Our last Canardie of the week is the Finally Starting an Effing Blog Canardie. And it, of course, goes to Sir of etc., etc.

Congratulations, you lazy bastard.

This honor is too much. As unworthy as I feel of such high praise, I’d like to clear up what appears to be a misconception regarding my perceived foot dragging where starting the effing blog is concerned.

Prior to making the decision to take the leap into the high-pressure world of drivel writing, I wanted to get some guidance. Naturally, I sought the assistance of an elderly Asian man, since we all know that elderly Asian men (especially those that look like this) are chock full of both wisdom and the ability to kick Uma Thurman’s ass. Unfortunately, southern states tend to have a rather limited supply of these folks, so I had to settle for the first middle-aged Asian dude I could find. Sitting on a park bench. Next to a dog.

Me: Um. Hi!
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: …
Me: Yeah, so I’m thinking about starting a blog and I want to do it right and I was hoping you could maybe hook me up with a little wisdom on how to proceed, y’know, slap some Confucian whatnot on me and…well…stuff?
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: [Hands me a piece of paper] Sign!
Me: Wait, what is this? What …
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: SIGN!!!
Me: *scribble*
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: [snatches paper from me]
Me: What did I just do?
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: THREE STEP! NUMBER ONE: NO HANKY PANKY!
Me: Pardon? Hanky pa…
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: Good clog need concentration! Lack of boob help focus!
Me: Blog. B-L-O-G. Lack of … wait. Sex?! For how long?
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: Good question. NUMBER TWO: FIND AND KILL WILY PUMA!
Me: Find and …what?!?!?
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: This.
Me: What the hell does …. why do you have a picture of a pu…
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: NUMBER THREE: SELL VACUUM CLEANER DOOR-TO-DOOR AT REASONABLE PRICE!
Me: No. This is complete bullsh…..
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: [hands me the paper I signed] READ!!!!
Me: [reading] My God. That’s the most flawlessly-worded fine print I’ve ever seen. And you’re a notary.
MAAGSOAPBNTAD: HAI!

So, having become a sexless puma-killing vacuum salesman, there was pretty much no way that I wasn’t going to start a blog. As for the delay, trust me when I tell you that finding and killing a puma, wily or otherwise, is no picnic and that rushing such an endeavor will only result in your getting scratched/bitten and the puma fleeing into the cold dark night to possibly kill again.

The duck, however, makes it all worthwhile. I was also gratified to see that said duck has excellent taste in books and enjoys vodka martinis, unlike some non-duck humans who worship Satan prefer gin. In this picture, we’re in the process of bonding over a very simple yet sophisticated Absolut martini (I attempted to add a lemon twist, but the duck was like, ‘DON’T defile my cocktail with fruit, you HEATHEN!’ The duck has spunk.) So, how can I possibly thank The Collective enough? In giving me the gift of a little pink enabler that drinks like a fish and squeaks threats about not fruiting up the liquor, they’ve ensured that I’ll never again drink or bathe alone. And what more can a person ask from life, really?

Canardies! Canardies!

Wow! It's been a festive week here at The Collective, and so appropriately our next award goes to Vahid from Iron Fist, who wins the Best Buddy Canardie for his awesome drinking and tattoo-procuring prowess at this year's TequilaCon!

Let's here it for Vahid, everyone!



I cannot begin to tell you what it means to me to receive this award from the Collective, especially since my prize package included not only the coveted Canardie, but also a round-trip ticket to beautiful San Diego, California, where I was met by the lovely Abigail! from the Collective's West Coast Office. My day included breakfast in Old Town, where I was told that what the Collective giveth, the Collective also taketh away, so would I please hurry up and submit my speech like I had been asked nicely to do several freakin' weeks ago just like everyone else or I could forget about hanging on to my duck. Later I was taken to a remote hillside and told "you won't cross the Collective twice. Capisce?"

So. Where was I? Oh yes: I've been awarded the Best Friend Canardie, for "TequilaCon drinks/tattoo heroism", which is especially gratifying since I don't especially remember being very heroic. In fact I more or less remember the evening going like this:

Vahid: zomg! It's the Collective!

Collective: Hello!

Vahid: Wow! I'm such a big fan! It's so great to meet you!

Collective: (Who is this guy again?)

Vahid: We should have drinks!

Collective: Now you're talking!

[Everyone drinks a round of shots.]

Vahid: Also: I brought you literary-themed tattoos!

Collective: SWEET. We should celebrate this by drinking another round of tequila shots, with tequila chasers, followed by vodka tonics.

Vahid's liver: [whispering] Dude, this is such a bad idea.

Collective: Now let's play Big Buck Hunter!

Vahid: Uh...I'm not so good at this game. Maybe I'll stick to pinball.

Jenny: Yay! That was my best game of pinball ever!

Vahid: That was rough. I'll try my hand at Ms Pac-Man.

Dee-Dee: Now that I have a 90,000 point lead I'll start playing with my left hand.

Sir: Wow, that was pretty humiliating. Listen, I'll tell you what: you don't have to call me 'Sir' if you don't want. Just...stop weeping, okay?

Vahid: Thank you. *sniffles*

[Much later...]

Collective: We have been accosted by a bunch of Brits. Please come deal with them.

Vahid: British dudes, what's your story?

Brits: Give us a chance, lad. Our shiny disco shirts notwithstanding, we are clearly of such advanced age that we will probably never get a chance to speak to such beautiful young ladies again.

Vahid's liver: You know what? I QUIT.

Vahid: Ulp! Sorry, Collective. [keels over and falls into a coma]

...and that's more or less how I came to be awarded this Canardie today. It means all the more to me because, as the above speech may imply, my life is usually characterized by disappointment and under-achievement.

Thank you, Collective! Thank you!

Welcome back to The Canardies

Proving once more that our love is unconditional, and not based on the amount of attention we receive, we are awarding our next Canardie to Jenny of Run Jen Run for Least Collective Comments! Jenny has weighed in with one (possibly two) comments over our blog's short life, and we just want to say thanks!

Everyone, give it up for Jenny!

(Applause! Applause! Applause!)


In life, most people are rewarded for the things they do. America really seems to love the overachiever. The braniac who graduates from college at 13 and is a millionaire before she can legally drive. The 3-year old who saves his mom’s life by calling 911 when she has a seizure. The two-legged dog that learns to walk upright. It’s all so predictable.

So that’s why I was so amazed and honored that The Collective chose to award me with one of their prestigious Canardies, not for something I did, but for something I didn’t do. I didn’t comment. Well, I did, but just that one time. Frankly, I feel like I commented at least twice, but maybe I just thought about a comment I wanted to leave, then got distracted and never got around to it.Anyway, since I’m apparently a woman of few words, I thought I’d let the pictures do the talking for me.

When I opened up the strange package I received a couple weeks ago, I was overwhelmed with joy.




It was from The Collective gals, and to be honest, I really felt undeserving of their recognition.




But it didn’t take long for the fame to go to my head. The whole blogger scene started to bore me.




Then things got rocky at home. We started fighting all the time. Can-Can (that’s what I call him) told me I was taking him for granted and that without him, I was just some nobody. I didn’t appreciate his tone.




Fortunately, our relationship counselor helped us open up and share our feelings, and I was finally able to express how much I really love this award.




So thanks, The Collective, not only for honoring me with this award, but also for helping me work through a lot of my emotional baggage. I feel like a better person for not having commented on this site.

Canardies, Day Two!

The next Canardie goes to the sweetest gal in all of internetdom. Please give a warm round of applause to Shari of Eclectic for her Most Comments on The Collective Canardie!

(Speech! Speech! Speech!)

My fellow dwellers of the blogosphere:

THANK YOU for the honor of this award!

Ever since I learned of the coveted Canardie, I have… well…, coveted it. Of course, this was unnecessary, since by the time I had learned of the Canardies, I had already been awarded one. But let no one say I am above doing the unnecessary, because I’m here to tell you that I nearly ALWAYS find time to accomplish whatever is unnecessary, as I believe I’ve demonstrated here.

I’m particularly pleased with this “Most Comment Love Canardie”, being that I enjoy ambiguity. To be specific, does “most comment love” mean that I’m simply a time-wasting sycophant clogging the ethernet with too-frequent drivel; or does it mean that my love-filled comments lack wit and acerbity? Doesn’t matter! Either way, you see, it results in an award for ME… which makes me better than all you other witless, time-wasting sycophants out there. Life is what you make it, I always say.

I have never before experienced the incredible joy that derives from receiving a fuschia rubber duck in the mail, along with Whoppers and Gobstoppers. It has transformed me, AND my trophy shelf, as the following photograph illustrates:




Thank you, Collective!! I only hope that you continue to provide me with daily opportunities to litter the internet landscape with my comments -- such as they are-- for years and years to come.

The Inaugural Canrdies!

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Inaugural Canrdie Awards! Each year the Webby and Bloggy awards come and go, without any love being shown to people we know. Well not this year, friends. No, indeed. This year, The Collective has decided to honor some of our fellow bloggers with a plastic duck (canard) trophy, and some boxes of candy. Because here at The Collective, you're not just another IP address.

Our first Canardie of the week is the Phone it In Canardie, and it goes to Ashley who Phones it In more than anyone else on the Internet. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in congratulating ASHLEY AWESOME!



My Grateful Subjects, er, I mean, Minions. Whoops, that was a typo. What is the word I am searching for here? Sycophants? No. Hmm, what about hoards of unwashed hobos? NO. I think the tiny thesaurus in my brain might be broken. Gonna have to look into that. Oh, wait, I've got it: READERS.

Hello, my little liver dumplings, and thank you -- all five of you-- plus The Collective, who have graciously decided to give me this award, for which I did nothing, really, but act like a glorified sycophant myself. PLEASE, my entries were begging to you all, LOVE ME. So does this mean that you do? Love me, I mean. Okay, maybe I should stop being a jerk here. Instead I'm going to tell you a story. Ready?

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ashley, and she had chicken legs. Not actual chicken legs, mind you, because that would be weird. Just the metaphorical kind. Anyhoodle, sometimes Chicken Legs used to pray for things like how she didn't want the ceiling fan to fall out of the ceiling and chop off her head, to someday own a library like Belle's in Beauty and the Beast, and to have boobs at least as big as Teri Hatcher's. Guess how many of those things came true? Just the one, actually, seeing as how she's not dead, but you never know. Stuff could happen. So years passed and Ashley grew up, passing puberty, but she still had the chicken legs. Nightly prayer wishes now included that, please God, a boy would like her. Any boy would do. Also, she still wanted the library, but had long given up on the boobs. One day, Chicken Legs discovered the internet, and it was a fateful meeting of harmonious beauty. And this other time, on another day, Chicken Legs went to college and met, oh, wait hold on a sec while I

( Intermission )

I forgot where I was going with this story. Do you guys like cheese? What are your favorite kinds of cheese? Does the idea of brie gross you out as much as it does me? Your thoughts are important to me.

In conclusion, who else is with me on wanting to see Joss Whedon make that movie he was talking about, The Cars That Could Turn Into Robots But No, It's Different. No? Crickets.

But seriously, thanks to Heather Anne, Abigail, Kat, and Jennie for presenting me with this fine award. Now me and my little pink duck are going to take a bath. Toodles.

Okay, actually that was a total lie, I don't take baths. But it was a nice image, right? No? You guys are the worst crowd ever. I mean, I LOVE YOU. Bye.