Lauren Bacall recently made a statement:
We live in an age of mediocrity. Stars today are not the same stature as Bogie (Humphrey Bogart), Jimmy Cagney, Spencer Tracy, Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart.
How true.
She, of course, was talking about entertainment. But the truth in that statement extends far beyond.
I'm sure she knows that.
Perhaps it's crass to bring this up before the poor old man is even carried to his final resting place, but *shrug*. More and more as famous and important people waltz off this mortal coil, the reaction has become less actual mourning as much as it has been made into a cultural event in which ~everyone~ wants to say they played a part. And, more and more as we move deeper and deeper into the age of communication and information, we are able to use television, radio and the internet to whip ourselves up into a froth of anticipation, sorrow, or commiseration faster than you can say, 'papal election'.
There are simply not as many real mourners out there as there is people making a show of mourning.
Currently, I am thanking whatever omnipresent being there is that allowed me the foresight to not have access to television for this event. It's all I can take seeing as much as I have. The media circus started days before he even died -my god- and reported to the world every cough and wheeze that escaped him. There's only so many candlelight vigils a person can watch before you either want to tear your hair out or book a ticket to Rome. And millions of people chose the latter simply because they were told others were doing it.
Now (what prompted my writing this) what I hear is rumblings he ought to be named Pope John Paul II 'The Great'. 'The Great'? The only 'great' thing he did was to survive the Vatican for 26 years...which ~was~ a feat considering his predecessor lasted only 33 days. Of course, it's not as insane as when Diana died and people were calling for her to be sainted in the Church of England, but it's still pretty insane.
(That's where my comparisons of the Pope and Diana will end since the Pope was an infinitely more important and influential person than a silly jet-setting princess.)
Anyway, John Paul II was not a 'great' pope.
As a man, he was unusually ambitious, academic, and committed. He would have to be, they don't pick you if you're not. The top banana of the Holy See is a position of unique power and authority. Mediocre men do not reach this position as they can as heads of other governments and royalty. But the title then affords you the ability to ~not~ grow, to not cater to the needs of your people, to meddle where you like and not not respond to situations to which you don't want to respond. Once you're there, you're there...
So, he was not a great pope, nor was he a great man. And I'm not saying that disrespectfully, there are very few real 'great' men and women. That's why they're great...because it's rare. He simply was not one of them. He did some good work, but not enough for me to fall to my knees clutching a rosary and trying to get through to Air Canada on my cell.
(He was also not a holy man. As an ex-Catholic, I cannot see one shred of connection between the Vatican and anything that is ~actually~ holy. But...that's me.)
'Great' as a title can only come to men and women who have gone above and beyond the call of duty. John Paul II did not. To 'splain:
One of the main jobs of the Pope is to promote the Catholic Church. A pope travels, meets people, performs mass all over the world in a grand scale attempt to keep Catholics catholic and make non-catholics catholic. The pomp and circumstance that surrounds the Catholic church and it's rituals is one of the world's oldest forms of propaganda and advertising. Check an art history text.
It is true that JPII was directly involved with the fall of communism in Europe. He worked up the people so that Lech Walesa could do his thing so that Mikhail Gorbachev could do ~his~ thing. It was important and changed the lives of millions upon millions. But, it wasn't altruistic. As pope it was his job to sniff out the opportunity to regain millions of Catholics lost to communism. He was the right nationality, in the right place at the right time. Good job, but it would have happened with or without him.
So, yeah...but no.
A truly great man and a truly great pope would reform the church. He would try to drag it closer to the 21st century and address the issues of today in a more rational manner. It's relatively important to us in North America and Europe, but we forget the grip the church has on third world and developing nations and how it's absolutely vital to the people of those cultures that it act with logic and caring. The pope was vocal in STILL condemning birth control and masturbation as mortal sins while these countries sink under the weight of the problems brought about by overpopulation and HIV.
And of course, a truly great pope would have tackled the issue of rampant pedophilia within it's clergy and tried to save thousands of children from it's own predators. Instead, he allowed these men to be nuzzled within the safety of the Vatican, moved from parish to parish with no regard for the children they were to meet next. As Christopher Hitchens referenced Maureen Dowd:
I should say now that I think she put it best of all. A church that has allowed no latitude in its teachings on masturbation, premarital sex, birth control, and divorce suddenly asks for understanding and "wiggle room" for the most revolting crime on the books.
But, in this age of communication at the speed of light, media as the center of everyone's attention, and news of events that can now reach almost anyone in the world, it is easy to forget all the important things a person ~hasn't~ done and lift up their achievements so that they seem to have reached such heights that the world almost deifies them. We seem so badly want ~something~ and we rush toward whatever we can to lose ourselves in it.
Whatever.
I, for one, am very curious as to who's up next. I'm thinking of putting bets on it. Anyone with me?
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Awww...hell...
In the interest of making this blog more pleasing to my eye, I tried on some different templates.
And lost all my links...
So...does anyone remember what I had, even?
And lost all my links...
So...does anyone remember what I had, even?
Friday, March 18, 2005
An Open Letter to the Young Women Of North America...
(Or how I learned to stop worrying and love Gloria Steinem)
Britney Spears lied to you. At least her handlers did.
I guarantee that, if you're the average North American 20-something, you don't have as much time in your day to spend on appearance as Britney does. Ergo, unless you've been genetically blessed to the point of being Naomi Campbell or her ilk, you don't have the body to pull off Britney's clothes. Besides, she's taped, pushed, pulled, and posed to look reasonable. You don't have a stylist following you...well...most of you don't, so stop it.
The truth is that those super low tight pants you're wearing...they push up your hip fat and make your butt look really tiny. So...what you've ended up with is a bottom half that looks like your top half is being poured through a funnel. Into big shoes.
Say that I am aging and jealous. Say that I'm jiggly in the buttock and thigh region. Say that I long for the days I could go out barely dressed and look reasonable. All those may be true. Whatever. They all pale next to the fact that I'm telling you the truth. You all look like freshly scrubbed whores.
Those outfits may get you laid at the bar. And if they do, good for you! You accomplished your goal and far be it from me to tell you what to wear when you're on the prowl with your heavily perfumed compadres. However, is it too much to ask that you don't serve my lunch with your gut hanging over your pants? Because, the amazing part is, you don't ~have~ a gut! By any woman's standards, you're usually a tiny little thing. It's the pants! There is magical pixie gut-dust in the fibers! Look in a damn mirror!
Which brings me to restaurants, since it was a girl like that who served me my food the other day.
I work downtown. The old, rich oil men in my city who like to look at women that have barely been weened from their mother's teat go to restaurants downtown. I know 1 + 1 makes 2 and I know that the board meeting to decide to hire pretty young girls dressed in clothes that don't really cover ~anything~ probably didn't go like this:
"We need more traffic. Research shows that oil men have lots of money. Now, if you look at this pie chart, research also shows that these oil men are centered around the downtown area, near our downtown location. If I may direct your attention to this diagram, the X-axis shows the age and wealth of the average oil man. The Y-axis shows the youth and hotness of women. You can see at this point here *smacking chart* that young hot women in very little clothes really interest old, balding men with lots of money. I mean, it skyrockets. What do you make of this? Jenkins?"
"I know, Sir! We need to hire young, pretty women who will wear slutty clothes to serve our rich oilmen customers."
"Dagnabbit, Jenkins, you're gonna go far in this company. Now go to the highschools and see if any of those pretty young things are looking to buy a car. And while you're out, pick up my drycleaning. And stay away from my daughter!"
When I was that age I worked at a coffee shop and we girls learned purdy quickly that the tighter our shirts were, the higher our tips would go. It would make the difference between leaving with $2.45 or leaving with $15 extra in our pockets. However, we ~did~ have to dress reasonably and not as if we were Las Vegas showgirls. And we weren't ~encouraged~ by our management. We weren't ~deterred~ either, and lets face it, even we knew why our bosses hired almost all young women but this wasn't a situation in which we were all dressed uniformly in a chain restaurant.
I could now launch into my rant about the backlash that has occured against feminism, but....well...hell, I'm gunna:
Over the past decade or so, I've noticed a serious reaction to feminism in North America in which, like a Phoenix from it's ashes, "The Lout" has risen to become profitable and sexy once again.
Women my age (early 30s) might recall the feminism of our mothers that wound itself into our every thought when we were coming of age in the late 80s/early 90s. But it was ~their~ generation's brand of feminism and when Camile Paglia came out kicking, screaming and foaming at the mouth we all rushed out to buy her book because it was what we needed. We felt we had been denied our sexuality and resented the 'earth mother' that morphed from the feminism we had known. Camile Paglia liked porn, she liked loud noises, she was unreasonable and we felt redeemed.
Not sure when the Riot Grrls came into the scene...but it was about this time. So, them too.
Anyway...so, we finally got to hold our heads high and march, arms linked and heeled high, out into the night to get drunk in our miniskirts, pick up (or be picked up by) whomever we wanted and call it 'reclaiming our control'...or whatever we said it was at the time. We refused to be 'victims' anymore...we were taking responsibility for our choices. We became aggressive, garish, loud, obnoxious, blatant...and other adjectives. We became lout-ish...but with eye makeup and a purpose.
I think men liked it...but mostly because we were being brash with our sexuality. When we used to yell at them, I think they liked it less.
What happened, though...the Spice Girls. They took it, put a bit more sugar in to counter the spice (no pun) and we had 'Girl Power (tm)' . *Whammy!* it was marketable. Girl Power (tm) is cutesy nauseating, but sorta useful, I guess. It's good that young girls and women wake up in the morning with the 'girl power' mantra floating in their heads. Whatever makes them feel powerful is a good thing. But...ugh.
On the other foot, though, the male backlash to all this feminist activity swirling around them was to take the sexuality but ditch the aggression. So, now the pinups they've always loved of Pam Anderson...they were nothing to be ashamed of. And strip clubs were something to be celebrated. Women get the message that no matter how much you work, how much you try to educate yourself , how much yoga you do or how much herbal tea you drink, a man with whom you are in love actually ~wants~ to be with his buddies being served cold beer by chicks with big tits and have nothing more to say than, 'Want more?', 'Bet your wife doesn't do this.' and 'Have you met my twin sister?'
Let me say here that I actually have no beef against strippers or anything. These women choose to do what they're doing and it's profitable...so whatever. My problem is that it went from 'just a thing' to a celebration of men's rights to be pigs...and pride in chauvinistic attitudes.
I used to believe it, too. The Lout's lie. That men had base instincts that had been denied them and now they can fulfill them to their hearts content. Men ~are~ visual creatures and ~do~ gawk a little more than women do, but I've come to understand that their lack of grace and manners are their ~own~ fault. Men don't ~have~ to be The Lout. Men don't ~have~ to watch strippers with their buddies and try to feel up the waitress because they have the choice to be decent and mature. And not all men choose that for their entertainment. Men don't ~have~ to go glassy-eyed and drooly and don't have to 'juggle women' (or pretend to) to feel masculine. Men can ~want~ to be with their imperfect girlfriend/wife and appreciate her thoughts and actions ~without~ stating loudly their right to go out with the boys, get drunk and dump water on some girl in a white t-shirt.
The Man Show, beer commercials, Spike television, Maxim...everywhere you look there's men reclaiming the reclamation women celebrated just years before. The difference is, we celebrated a furtherment in our emancipation. The Lout celebrates taking that back.
And ~that's~ why these restaurants gave themselves the green light to hire an almost exclusively young, hot, and female serving staff, clothed in garments that are irritatingly slutty, and encourage them to be cute and flirty with the customers. The Lout is a big spender and now he feels he's owed.
I went to one of these places with my mother for dinner recently and the waitress interrupted us, in her cute and flirty way, a few times during a very indepth mother/daughter conversation. My god! At least review your customer profile! Flirting with my mother isn't going to get you any more tips!
I'm not sure this is what the Suffragettes had in mind.
Britney Spears lied to you. At least her handlers did.
I guarantee that, if you're the average North American 20-something, you don't have as much time in your day to spend on appearance as Britney does. Ergo, unless you've been genetically blessed to the point of being Naomi Campbell or her ilk, you don't have the body to pull off Britney's clothes. Besides, she's taped, pushed, pulled, and posed to look reasonable. You don't have a stylist following you...well...most of you don't, so stop it.
The truth is that those super low tight pants you're wearing...they push up your hip fat and make your butt look really tiny. So...what you've ended up with is a bottom half that looks like your top half is being poured through a funnel. Into big shoes.
Say that I am aging and jealous. Say that I'm jiggly in the buttock and thigh region. Say that I long for the days I could go out barely dressed and look reasonable. All those may be true. Whatever. They all pale next to the fact that I'm telling you the truth. You all look like freshly scrubbed whores.
Those outfits may get you laid at the bar. And if they do, good for you! You accomplished your goal and far be it from me to tell you what to wear when you're on the prowl with your heavily perfumed compadres. However, is it too much to ask that you don't serve my lunch with your gut hanging over your pants? Because, the amazing part is, you don't ~have~ a gut! By any woman's standards, you're usually a tiny little thing. It's the pants! There is magical pixie gut-dust in the fibers! Look in a damn mirror!
Which brings me to restaurants, since it was a girl like that who served me my food the other day.
I work downtown. The old, rich oil men in my city who like to look at women that have barely been weened from their mother's teat go to restaurants downtown. I know 1 + 1 makes 2 and I know that the board meeting to decide to hire pretty young girls dressed in clothes that don't really cover ~anything~ probably didn't go like this:
"We need more traffic. Research shows that oil men have lots of money. Now, if you look at this pie chart, research also shows that these oil men are centered around the downtown area, near our downtown location. If I may direct your attention to this diagram, the X-axis shows the age and wealth of the average oil man. The Y-axis shows the youth and hotness of women. You can see at this point here *smacking chart* that young hot women in very little clothes really interest old, balding men with lots of money. I mean, it skyrockets. What do you make of this? Jenkins?"
"I know, Sir! We need to hire young, pretty women who will wear slutty clothes to serve our rich oilmen customers."
"Dagnabbit, Jenkins, you're gonna go far in this company. Now go to the highschools and see if any of those pretty young things are looking to buy a car. And while you're out, pick up my drycleaning. And stay away from my daughter!"
When I was that age I worked at a coffee shop and we girls learned purdy quickly that the tighter our shirts were, the higher our tips would go. It would make the difference between leaving with $2.45 or leaving with $15 extra in our pockets. However, we ~did~ have to dress reasonably and not as if we were Las Vegas showgirls. And we weren't ~encouraged~ by our management. We weren't ~deterred~ either, and lets face it, even we knew why our bosses hired almost all young women but this wasn't a situation in which we were all dressed uniformly in a chain restaurant.
I could now launch into my rant about the backlash that has occured against feminism, but....well...hell, I'm gunna:
Over the past decade or so, I've noticed a serious reaction to feminism in North America in which, like a Phoenix from it's ashes, "The Lout" has risen to become profitable and sexy once again.
Women my age (early 30s) might recall the feminism of our mothers that wound itself into our every thought when we were coming of age in the late 80s/early 90s. But it was ~their~ generation's brand of feminism and when Camile Paglia came out kicking, screaming and foaming at the mouth we all rushed out to buy her book because it was what we needed. We felt we had been denied our sexuality and resented the 'earth mother' that morphed from the feminism we had known. Camile Paglia liked porn, she liked loud noises, she was unreasonable and we felt redeemed.
Not sure when the Riot Grrls came into the scene...but it was about this time. So, them too.
Anyway...so, we finally got to hold our heads high and march, arms linked and heeled high, out into the night to get drunk in our miniskirts, pick up (or be picked up by) whomever we wanted and call it 'reclaiming our control'...or whatever we said it was at the time. We refused to be 'victims' anymore...we were taking responsibility for our choices. We became aggressive, garish, loud, obnoxious, blatant...and other adjectives. We became lout-ish...but with eye makeup and a purpose.
I think men liked it...but mostly because we were being brash with our sexuality. When we used to yell at them, I think they liked it less.
What happened, though...the Spice Girls. They took it, put a bit more sugar in to counter the spice (no pun) and we had 'Girl Power (tm)' . *Whammy!* it was marketable. Girl Power (tm) is cutesy nauseating, but sorta useful, I guess. It's good that young girls and women wake up in the morning with the 'girl power' mantra floating in their heads. Whatever makes them feel powerful is a good thing. But...ugh.
On the other foot, though, the male backlash to all this feminist activity swirling around them was to take the sexuality but ditch the aggression. So, now the pinups they've always loved of Pam Anderson...they were nothing to be ashamed of. And strip clubs were something to be celebrated. Women get the message that no matter how much you work, how much you try to educate yourself , how much yoga you do or how much herbal tea you drink, a man with whom you are in love actually ~wants~ to be with his buddies being served cold beer by chicks with big tits and have nothing more to say than, 'Want more?', 'Bet your wife doesn't do this.' and 'Have you met my twin sister?'
Let me say here that I actually have no beef against strippers or anything. These women choose to do what they're doing and it's profitable...so whatever. My problem is that it went from 'just a thing' to a celebration of men's rights to be pigs...and pride in chauvinistic attitudes.
I used to believe it, too. The Lout's lie. That men had base instincts that had been denied them and now they can fulfill them to their hearts content. Men ~are~ visual creatures and ~do~ gawk a little more than women do, but I've come to understand that their lack of grace and manners are their ~own~ fault. Men don't ~have~ to be The Lout. Men don't ~have~ to watch strippers with their buddies and try to feel up the waitress because they have the choice to be decent and mature. And not all men choose that for their entertainment. Men don't ~have~ to go glassy-eyed and drooly and don't have to 'juggle women' (or pretend to) to feel masculine. Men can ~want~ to be with their imperfect girlfriend/wife and appreciate her thoughts and actions ~without~ stating loudly their right to go out with the boys, get drunk and dump water on some girl in a white t-shirt.
The Man Show, beer commercials, Spike television, Maxim...everywhere you look there's men reclaiming the reclamation women celebrated just years before. The difference is, we celebrated a furtherment in our emancipation. The Lout celebrates taking that back.
And ~that's~ why these restaurants gave themselves the green light to hire an almost exclusively young, hot, and female serving staff, clothed in garments that are irritatingly slutty, and encourage them to be cute and flirty with the customers. The Lout is a big spender and now he feels he's owed.
I went to one of these places with my mother for dinner recently and the waitress interrupted us, in her cute and flirty way, a few times during a very indepth mother/daughter conversation. My god! At least review your customer profile! Flirting with my mother isn't going to get you any more tips!
I'm not sure this is what the Suffragettes had in mind.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
the play's the thing
Last night I went to see my dear friends in their performance of a one act play as part of a 'one act play' festival at the Pumphouse Theatre. They chose the play No One Will Be Immune by David Mamet.
1- I was really impressed since the man who took the main role is a dear dear friend with very little acting experience compared to many other (non-doing-anything) actors in this city. I know next to nothing about theatre, but I do know this...g-damn that was hard stuff! He did a great job of it.
2- Turns out I love David Mamet. What a great piece and upon a little research, he's done a bunch of stuff I've enjoyed (Wag The Dog).
All in all a great evening. Nice work Scott and Erin!
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Saturday, March 05, 2005
time travel
Tonight I sat on my balcony (since I won't have a balcony soon) with my portable barbeque, a lighter, and two of my old journals.
However cleansed you felt having written a journal in your late teens/early twenties...let me tell you, you'll feel ~more~ cleansed the moment you rip out a page you just read and watch it smoulder on the ashes of it's fallen comrades.
Wow.
I read two journals from about 11 years ago. I probably spanned ages 21 and 22.
I'm happy to report I've learned a lot since then.
I am embarrassed to report that I was a complete nitwit...and probably still am in some arenas.
Know what else? I found half a tab of acid, wrapped in cigarette foil, stapled to one of the pages. A little journal detective work leads me to the conclusion that I ate the other half of that tab on Bermuda Shorts Day during my 3rd year of university.
I had no idea I had that. I don't think I've touched the stuff for at least a decade.
It went in the toilet.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Proverbs
I heard this somewhere a long time ago. I think it was Stephen Fry, but if it was, I have no idea if he was quoting someone else or if he made it up.
I love Stephen Fry.
Anyway...
"There are two types of people in this world. One who thinks there's two types of people in this world and the other that knows better."
I know it sounds trite, but I think it does us all well to remember that.
I love Stephen Fry.
Anyway...
"There are two types of people in this world. One who thinks there's two types of people in this world and the other that knows better."
I know it sounds trite, but I think it does us all well to remember that.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Move over Oprah
....there's a new book club in town.
Simon Le Bon's book club, thank you very much.
Say what you want, the man has written some fantastic lyrics.
(He wrote those, didn't he? I always assumed.)
The least I could do is consider his opinions on books.
Simon Le Bon's book club, thank you very much.
Say what you want, the man has written some fantastic lyrics.
(He wrote those, didn't he? I always assumed.)
The least I could do is consider his opinions on books.
With a step to the left and a flick to the right...
...you caught the mirror way out west, Simon.
I'm going to the Duran Duran concert on Monday.
I have waited my entire life to say those words.
I'm being accompanied by my dear and oldest friend Julie. She is a woman with whom, many many years ago, I made the informed and conscious decision to fall utterly and hopelessly in love with Simon LeBon. In truth, I had no real choice since the only other Duran I would have been even slightly interested in was John and Julie let me know in no uncertain terms that he was hers and hers alone and if I wanted to be a Duranie that discussed the latest Tiger Beat interview with ~her~, I was to pick from any of the remaining 4. Andy was too rocker, Roger too shy and Nick far too gay...so Simon it was and I never did regret that decision.
We also attended a very small school...there wasn't that many 'friends in Duran Duran' partners to go around. 'Specially since everyone besides us wore their older brother's old Nazareth t-shirts to give their unique statements on fashion.
That same older brother was usually still in our grade.
So...I began collecting posters. At one stage of my obsession, I'm certain I had over 200 posters and pin-ups of Duran Duran on my walls, each one lovingly torn out of teen mags or bought, with my weekly allowance of $5 a week, from the closest record store I could reach by bus.
I even asked pen pals to send me what they had and received a Swedish fold out poster which filled me with so much pride it, apparently, made me impossible to be around for at least a week.
Wow did those stars look like girls back then, hey?
I wonder why in the 80s the feminization of men was such hot stuff. I mean, I understand the 70s Ziggy Stardust androgynous chic. That was all about sex and breaking gender boundries. It was naughty and decadent. It seems to me that by the eighties it had been watered down to a non-threatening 'pre-teen girl's best friend' look. And boy, did I fall for it. I even had a Micheal Jackson poster of him looking ~almost~ as girly as he does now.
Little did I know way back then that he was targeting my age group, but not my gender. I was one X chromosome away from the danger zone.
Allegedly.
Anyway...I'm excited. I've remained a Duran Duran fan, though I've done away with the posters and I just recently saw a photo of Simon sunning the back side of himself nude. The emotions I felt upon stumbling across ~that~ little gem weren't so much positive as they were negative so I'm guessing the ~crush~ part of my patronage is over.
I'll tell ya how it went.
I'm going to the Duran Duran concert on Monday.
I have waited my entire life to say those words.
I'm being accompanied by my dear and oldest friend Julie. She is a woman with whom, many many years ago, I made the informed and conscious decision to fall utterly and hopelessly in love with Simon LeBon. In truth, I had no real choice since the only other Duran I would have been even slightly interested in was John and Julie let me know in no uncertain terms that he was hers and hers alone and if I wanted to be a Duranie that discussed the latest Tiger Beat interview with ~her~, I was to pick from any of the remaining 4. Andy was too rocker, Roger too shy and Nick far too gay...so Simon it was and I never did regret that decision.
We also attended a very small school...there wasn't that many 'friends in Duran Duran' partners to go around. 'Specially since everyone besides us wore their older brother's old Nazareth t-shirts to give their unique statements on fashion.
That same older brother was usually still in our grade.
So...I began collecting posters. At one stage of my obsession, I'm certain I had over 200 posters and pin-ups of Duran Duran on my walls, each one lovingly torn out of teen mags or bought, with my weekly allowance of $5 a week, from the closest record store I could reach by bus.
I even asked pen pals to send me what they had and received a Swedish fold out poster which filled me with so much pride it, apparently, made me impossible to be around for at least a week.
Wow did those stars look like girls back then, hey?
I wonder why in the 80s the feminization of men was such hot stuff. I mean, I understand the 70s Ziggy Stardust androgynous chic. That was all about sex and breaking gender boundries. It was naughty and decadent. It seems to me that by the eighties it had been watered down to a non-threatening 'pre-teen girl's best friend' look. And boy, did I fall for it. I even had a Micheal Jackson poster of him looking ~almost~ as girly as he does now.
Little did I know way back then that he was targeting my age group, but not my gender. I was one X chromosome away from the danger zone.
Allegedly.
Anyway...I'm excited. I've remained a Duran Duran fan, though I've done away with the posters and I just recently saw a photo of Simon sunning the back side of himself nude. The emotions I felt upon stumbling across ~that~ little gem weren't so much positive as they were negative so I'm guessing the ~crush~ part of my patronage is over.
I'll tell ya how it went.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
bloody red tape, hey?
Monday, February 28, 2005
Play the Peace Doves Game...
Kinda fun, and you'll learn a little, too.
Check out the nobelprize.org site. Lots of interesting stuff to read and the games are pretty neato.
Check out the nobelprize.org site. Lots of interesting stuff to read and the games are pretty neato.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
I'm cukoo for shirley temples...
It's true...I've been sucking Shirley T's back like there's a grenadine shortage.
So, these days, after two Strongbow I start pontificating like...well...the pope.
Sans the trach tube.
This is why I no longer go out drinking with work people. Luckily, my drinking was limited to two ciders and it was mostly bumf that heard me...no harm done. But if it were 5 and I was talking to others....well...
Anyway...
I'm moving.
Totally excited, too.
I finally got up the courage to tell my mother I was shackin' up with my super duper loverboy and after a 2 hour experience that was the conversational equivalent of a pap smear, I feel like I'm all set. I'm an only child..my parents have a HUGE influence on my life. Quit buggin' me.
Actually, for the first time in a situation like this, I feel like I handled things like a mature and healthy adult.
Good girl, Himbly.
So...in a couple of days I'll be giving my notice here and packin' to move to his apartment. And not a minute too soon, I might add. I've had trouble with asshole neighbours and their parking and just last night there was another 'domestic dispute' next door and the cops had to come at 4am. This happened to the last people who lived there.
Must be all the Oz we've been watching. Maybe they can hear it through the walls.
So, these days, after two Strongbow I start pontificating like...well...the pope.
Sans the trach tube.
This is why I no longer go out drinking with work people. Luckily, my drinking was limited to two ciders and it was mostly bumf that heard me...no harm done. But if it were 5 and I was talking to others....well...
Anyway...
I'm moving.
Totally excited, too.
I finally got up the courage to tell my mother I was shackin' up with my super duper loverboy and after a 2 hour experience that was the conversational equivalent of a pap smear, I feel like I'm all set. I'm an only child..my parents have a HUGE influence on my life. Quit buggin' me.
Actually, for the first time in a situation like this, I feel like I handled things like a mature and healthy adult.
Good girl, Himbly.
So...in a couple of days I'll be giving my notice here and packin' to move to his apartment. And not a minute too soon, I might add. I've had trouble with asshole neighbours and their parking and just last night there was another 'domestic dispute' next door and the cops had to come at 4am. This happened to the last people who lived there.
Must be all the Oz we've been watching. Maybe they can hear it through the walls.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Global Blogger Action Day
Monday, February 21, 2005
rethinking
We rented the 4th season of Oz...
...and I've realized how much I overlooked while pontificating about the goodness vs badness of mankind.
My first mistake is to define anything like that at all. But, I think it's part of the human condition to try to make sense of all...
*waving hands around*
...this.
The point I was overextending earlier was this. We look at how people act in different cultures and situations and tend to judge them with the tools our own experiences have given us. We, as middle class Canadians, are largely not equiped to judge actions taken by people in such different conditions than the ones we live in.
But...there is simply evil acts performed by evil people. Here, there, all over the dang place. Why? Who knows...
I'll think about it.
...and I've realized how much I overlooked while pontificating about the goodness vs badness of mankind.
My first mistake is to define anything like that at all. But, I think it's part of the human condition to try to make sense of all...
*waving hands around*
...this.
The point I was overextending earlier was this. We look at how people act in different cultures and situations and tend to judge them with the tools our own experiences have given us. We, as middle class Canadians, are largely not equiped to judge actions taken by people in such different conditions than the ones we live in.
But...there is simply evil acts performed by evil people. Here, there, all over the dang place. Why? Who knows...
I'll think about it.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Stag O'Lee was a bad man
I've been thinking lately about good and evil.
I've especially been pondering, over my chocolate milk, whether human beings are innately good and learn to do evil things or are innately evil and learn to do good things.
Of course...like all things...it's both and it's neither. Damn enigmatic universe.
But...how to squish it into my hard little skull in a way I can understand?
From what I've seen of this world (which, frankly, 32 years is not that long to have looked around and come up with any real answer) there really isn't as many ~evil~ people out there as there is regular people backed into a corner. Desperation brings the average Joe to commit the most evil acts. So does insanity, but that's a whole other kettle of fish. Terrorists, often, are people who feel they have no alternative...that they have no other choice but to fight the only way they can against someone who's far stronger than they are. Insurgents are doing what they can to keep fighting for what ~they~ believe is right. In the case of Iraq, it just happens we (in the western world) don't agree with them. That doesn't make them evil...it makes them scared. Think about the change their country is undertaking. Change, as we all know, is frightening when, say, we're changing careers or our clothing style. Imagine what this change feels like to someone who's life has been determined by a man in the US deciding it was time...and sends in troops to prove it. The acts of the insurgents have been evil but the people performing them are terrified (and seen violence brought to them) and feel there is no other course. We all know they'd get creamed if they even stopped for a second to ~think~ about 'playing fair'.
(...while writing this, I'm considering the questions, "Is Bush and evil man? Is Bin Ladan? Is Hussain? Was Hitler?" and the answer is 'I don't know'. Well, I mean, of course I don't. All have made evil decisions...but I it's far beyond me to declare if an individual were to be evil or not. Yup...I think the wisest thing here is to leave individuals out of it, no matter how tempting it would be...)
Even so, there plainly are evil people out there. It's often the job of evil people to reign in the confused ones, so they can be found sometimes in positions of power. And really, I'm sure we've all met someone who's just plain mean to the core. Not 'rebels'...not the typical brawlers and hooligans you see at the bar...but the ones you've met that you know haven't had one thought as to the wellbeing of anyone else ever. I'm thinking of a girl I used to know in high school who's life's work revolved around making others miserable. If that girl is the same person now...she is f-ing evil.
However, I'm the same person that marvels over the average person's behaviour during different stages of anonymity. Have you noticed how the internet can really bring the a-hole out in someone? It is more comfortable to be meaner in an email than it is the phone....and more the phone than in person. In person you have to really be angry to be mean to them...as mean as you would be behind your computer. And even then, you can be meaner to a stranger than to someone you know.
(Of course, we all know that we can all be super mean to the people we love the most, but that's not anonymity, that's just knowing they will accept you for who you are.)
So..what's that all about? I've had people give me the finger in cars that I ~know~ would't do it if they had to talk to me face to face about the same incident. And I'm not particularly scary. Why, then? The more anonymous, the less chance you'll have to suffer repercussions...so we go ahead and do it.
Where does that all sit in the humans = good vs humans = evil debate? Because even though most people will mouth the words 'fuck you' to the guy in the car in front of them or type furiously that someone 'can't get laid' in an internet chatroom, I would be hard pressed to call it all 'evil'.
Perhaps we're all innately selfish?
Perhaps we're all caught up in our own heads and we really have to work to understand other people.
That would make sense. As babies all we do is think about ourselves. We wake our parents at all hours to get what we want and when we want it. Our mothers could be suffering a nervous breakdown while we want a cookie and unless we're ~taught~ to give a crap, we won't.
So..maybe that's it. We're just all born selfish.
That would explain why my neighbour is an asshole when he parks.
I've especially been pondering, over my chocolate milk, whether human beings are innately good and learn to do evil things or are innately evil and learn to do good things.
Of course...like all things...it's both and it's neither. Damn enigmatic universe.
But...how to squish it into my hard little skull in a way I can understand?
From what I've seen of this world (which, frankly, 32 years is not that long to have looked around and come up with any real answer) there really isn't as many ~evil~ people out there as there is regular people backed into a corner. Desperation brings the average Joe to commit the most evil acts. So does insanity, but that's a whole other kettle of fish. Terrorists, often, are people who feel they have no alternative...that they have no other choice but to fight the only way they can against someone who's far stronger than they are. Insurgents are doing what they can to keep fighting for what ~they~ believe is right. In the case of Iraq, it just happens we (in the western world) don't agree with them. That doesn't make them evil...it makes them scared. Think about the change their country is undertaking. Change, as we all know, is frightening when, say, we're changing careers or our clothing style. Imagine what this change feels like to someone who's life has been determined by a man in the US deciding it was time...and sends in troops to prove it. The acts of the insurgents have been evil but the people performing them are terrified (and seen violence brought to them) and feel there is no other course. We all know they'd get creamed if they even stopped for a second to ~think~ about 'playing fair'.
(...while writing this, I'm considering the questions, "Is Bush and evil man? Is Bin Ladan? Is Hussain? Was Hitler?" and the answer is 'I don't know'. Well, I mean, of course I don't. All have made evil decisions...but I it's far beyond me to declare if an individual were to be evil or not. Yup...I think the wisest thing here is to leave individuals out of it, no matter how tempting it would be...)
Even so, there plainly are evil people out there. It's often the job of evil people to reign in the confused ones, so they can be found sometimes in positions of power. And really, I'm sure we've all met someone who's just plain mean to the core. Not 'rebels'...not the typical brawlers and hooligans you see at the bar...but the ones you've met that you know haven't had one thought as to the wellbeing of anyone else ever. I'm thinking of a girl I used to know in high school who's life's work revolved around making others miserable. If that girl is the same person now...she is f-ing evil.
However, I'm the same person that marvels over the average person's behaviour during different stages of anonymity. Have you noticed how the internet can really bring the a-hole out in someone? It is more comfortable to be meaner in an email than it is the phone....and more the phone than in person. In person you have to really be angry to be mean to them...as mean as you would be behind your computer. And even then, you can be meaner to a stranger than to someone you know.
(Of course, we all know that we can all be super mean to the people we love the most, but that's not anonymity, that's just knowing they will accept you for who you are.)
So..what's that all about? I've had people give me the finger in cars that I ~know~ would't do it if they had to talk to me face to face about the same incident. And I'm not particularly scary. Why, then? The more anonymous, the less chance you'll have to suffer repercussions...so we go ahead and do it.
Where does that all sit in the humans = good vs humans = evil debate? Because even though most people will mouth the words 'fuck you' to the guy in the car in front of them or type furiously that someone 'can't get laid' in an internet chatroom, I would be hard pressed to call it all 'evil'.
Perhaps we're all innately selfish?
Perhaps we're all caught up in our own heads and we really have to work to understand other people.
That would make sense. As babies all we do is think about ourselves. We wake our parents at all hours to get what we want and when we want it. Our mothers could be suffering a nervous breakdown while we want a cookie and unless we're ~taught~ to give a crap, we won't.
So..maybe that's it. We're just all born selfish.
That would explain why my neighbour is an asshole when he parks.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
An open letter to Heavy Metal...
I was reading the most recent issue of Rolling Stone magazine yesterday.
They had a short interview with Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue fame.
Eff off!
I am SO tired of ancient ex-partier rockers in their leathers STILL on about how damn hardcore they are.
Nikki was lamenting the situation popular music is in. He asked where the Johnny Rottens were? The Joey Ramones? The Ozzys? He wondered who was going to get out there and 'wave their dicks'.
(I'm paraphrasing here because the article isn't in front of me. I remember he said Johnny Rotten, but I think I can fill in the rest even if he didn't use ~those~ particular names.)
Anyway...last I checked they (the ~same guys~) were ~still~ waving their crusty and old dicks during their last 'reunion' tour. Or they died trying.
If you want a new breed of rock and roller to explode onto the scene and take their place in the rock and roll legacy...move over! And while you're at it, here's some eye lotion and baby powder for the chaffing those leather pants are bound to have caused after all these years. You've grown up now...or at least you should have. And stop trying to sound super hard by relating over and over how many drugs you ~used~ to do! Yes, I'm talking to you Velvet Revolver. If you're going to play music, then play music. But -for the love of Christ- shut up or at least say ~something~ new while you're doing it. Anything that doesn't start with, 'oh fuck, I fucking can't believe I'm still fucking alive, maaaan....'.
And...as a personal favour...please don't tell me about your ex-porn star wife and her 'abilities'. 'Cause Tommy wrecked it for you and now it all sounds like, 'awww..fuck, Pam...you're so fucking hot'.
But if you're not going to do that, please don't whine and moan that there just simply is no one out there to replace you. Why would they want to? Why would they try? You're still here! You're still here pleading with your audience to remember you the way you ~were~ so you don't feel so ridiculous up there while you're sober. Ahh...you don't look as good as you thought you did under the influence, hey? Well, don't feel too bad. It worked for you in the 80s.
And another hint for aging rock stars: It's hard to take you seriously after we've seen you strutting (or stuttering, in some cases) your stuff on a reality TV show. Try to grow older with a bit of dignity.
They had a short interview with Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue fame.
Eff off!
I am SO tired of ancient ex-partier rockers in their leathers STILL on about how damn hardcore they are.
Nikki was lamenting the situation popular music is in. He asked where the Johnny Rottens were? The Joey Ramones? The Ozzys? He wondered who was going to get out there and 'wave their dicks'.
(I'm paraphrasing here because the article isn't in front of me. I remember he said Johnny Rotten, but I think I can fill in the rest even if he didn't use ~those~ particular names.)
Anyway...last I checked they (the ~same guys~) were ~still~ waving their crusty and old dicks during their last 'reunion' tour. Or they died trying.
If you want a new breed of rock and roller to explode onto the scene and take their place in the rock and roll legacy...move over! And while you're at it, here's some eye lotion and baby powder for the chaffing those leather pants are bound to have caused after all these years. You've grown up now...or at least you should have. And stop trying to sound super hard by relating over and over how many drugs you ~used~ to do! Yes, I'm talking to you Velvet Revolver. If you're going to play music, then play music. But -for the love of Christ- shut up or at least say ~something~ new while you're doing it. Anything that doesn't start with, 'oh fuck, I fucking can't believe I'm still fucking alive, maaaan....'.
And...as a personal favour...please don't tell me about your ex-porn star wife and her 'abilities'. 'Cause Tommy wrecked it for you and now it all sounds like, 'awww..fuck, Pam...you're so fucking hot'.
But if you're not going to do that, please don't whine and moan that there just simply is no one out there to replace you. Why would they want to? Why would they try? You're still here! You're still here pleading with your audience to remember you the way you ~were~ so you don't feel so ridiculous up there while you're sober. Ahh...you don't look as good as you thought you did under the influence, hey? Well, don't feel too bad. It worked for you in the 80s.
And another hint for aging rock stars: It's hard to take you seriously after we've seen you strutting (or stuttering, in some cases) your stuff on a reality TV show. Try to grow older with a bit of dignity.
Monday, February 14, 2005
In response to Bumf's Book Blog challenge...
Excerpt from Bumf's book blog post:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
HAHAHAHA...okay, this is my bf's book but it's the closest to me:
From the World of Warcraft Official strategy guide:
*ahem*
"Consecrates your weapon, inflicting 80 to 112 additional damage on your next attack. All damage caused is considered holy damage"
Geeky enough for y'all??
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
HAHAHAHA...okay, this is my bf's book but it's the closest to me:
From the World of Warcraft Official strategy guide:
*ahem*
"Consecrates your weapon, inflicting 80 to 112 additional damage on your next attack. All damage caused is considered holy damage"
Geeky enough for y'all??
Friday, February 11, 2005
and other gay penguins....
Effing YEAH!
check this:
slippery
I heard about it on As It Happens coming back from Safeway this evening and simply ~had~ to tell you about it.
I ~love~ these moments because you can take THAT 'it's-an-abomination-ists'! Plus, I think the thought of 6 male penguins humping each other is really cute.
I think I'll go hang outside my apartment and kiss a girl if one walks by (and if you've seen the people walking by my apartment at 10:40 on a Friday, ~that~ would be a funny joke).
check this:
slippery
I heard about it on As It Happens coming back from Safeway this evening and simply ~had~ to tell you about it.
I ~love~ these moments because you can take THAT 'it's-an-abomination-ists'! Plus, I think the thought of 6 male penguins humping each other is really cute.
I think I'll go hang outside my apartment and kiss a girl if one walks by (and if you've seen the people walking by my apartment at 10:40 on a Friday, ~that~ would be a funny joke).
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Scandal
I am in the midst of this article on the Vatican and it's financial dealings. It's very interesting and I'll try to comment on it when I'm finished but as it is it reads like the book of Genesis...so many names and their connections to other names.
Who knows when I'll finish...thought I'd post the link now.
Who knows when I'll finish...thought I'd post the link now.
Haunted? What's haunted?
Firstly, disclaimer:
I will never see Ghost in my lifetime. The only possible way I would watch that movie is if I enter some after-death mental-torture punishment facility in which I am bound to a pointy chair and continually shown Patrick Swayze movies. Honestly, I don't think I'm capable of doing anything so evil -so diabolical- as to deserve it.
Ghosts, though.
I'm smart enough not to believe in them.
I'm also smart enough to know I don't know what the eff I'm talking about half the time.
So...ghosts.
I have two jobs. One excruciating day job, one fun weekend/night job. The fun takes place in an old theatre. It was originally built as a garage in the 1920s but became a theatre some time in the early 1930s. Living in a city that most North Americans consider 'new', the building that houses the theatre is considered by most of us to be ancient. A European would look at it as something that sprouted overnight, but we're not in Europe and there it is.
Since my little theater is roughly 80 years old, of course there's gonna be stories...creepy stories. I mean, truthfully, it's a creepy building. Having had the marrow chilling and sphincter gripping pleasure of prowling around the basement with my coworkers...and dude, there's like, extra rooms we found down there hidden by secret doors...I can understand why people would want to tell 'em.
But I'm starting to wonder what rumours matches with what.
There's two entries. One entry goes up to a group of offices. One set of offices used to be an apartment and I've had patrons tell me that they used to live there. Another entry takes you up to the projection booth and a small, frankly disgusting, little bathroom that I share with 3 men. Believe me, it's no picnic in the park when I have to powder my nose.
There's talk among the staff these days of a suicide that apparently occured in said bathroom many many years ago. The rumour's source is a woman that I ~deeply~ respect (as she was the mentor to ~my~ mentor) so I'm not about to be pointing fingers, growling "LIAR" any time soon. However, I'm not entirely convinced this wasn't a prank designed to freak the shit out of a certain young lady we used to have the pleasure of working alongside. 'Cause I know ~I've~ tried but started laughing halfway through.
I do miss her. She was a great little girl who's now gone on to UBC.
But that's not the point of my post...the girl or the suicide.
I've been scouring the internet lately on any story of a ghost at the Plaza Theatre. I have read, heard, or had discussions about a benign female 'presence' in the theatre for years now. Not regularly, but occassionally...and from very different sources. It's always the same story, too. Nothing special...no one was rushed by shrieking harpies...just that she's ~there~.
Again...I don't believe in this stuff. But I challenge any of you to be there alone at midnight with the lights off and not have the slightest paranormal thought. Or even during the day...it's bloody dark. 'Cause I have and you can freak yourself out veeerrryyy easily. So, don't judge me. Dang.
But I can't find anything about it anywhere. Someone's got to have said something to someone who has access to the web, doncha think?
Anyway...that's my story. Oh, and as an interesting side note, in researching my little theatre, I ended up finding out that the building that houses my day job is actually built right on top of the original site of the Prince House. The Prince House has now been moved to Heritage park but is considered itself to be haunted. Interesting, I thought.
I will never see Ghost in my lifetime. The only possible way I would watch that movie is if I enter some after-death mental-torture punishment facility in which I am bound to a pointy chair and continually shown Patrick Swayze movies. Honestly, I don't think I'm capable of doing anything so evil -so diabolical- as to deserve it.
Ghosts, though.
I'm smart enough not to believe in them.
I'm also smart enough to know I don't know what the eff I'm talking about half the time.
So...ghosts.
I have two jobs. One excruciating day job, one fun weekend/night job. The fun takes place in an old theatre. It was originally built as a garage in the 1920s but became a theatre some time in the early 1930s. Living in a city that most North Americans consider 'new', the building that houses the theatre is considered by most of us to be ancient. A European would look at it as something that sprouted overnight, but we're not in Europe and there it is.
Since my little theater is roughly 80 years old, of course there's gonna be stories...creepy stories. I mean, truthfully, it's a creepy building. Having had the marrow chilling and sphincter gripping pleasure of prowling around the basement with my coworkers...and dude, there's like, extra rooms we found down there hidden by secret doors...I can understand why people would want to tell 'em.
But I'm starting to wonder what rumours matches with what.
There's two entries. One entry goes up to a group of offices. One set of offices used to be an apartment and I've had patrons tell me that they used to live there. Another entry takes you up to the projection booth and a small, frankly disgusting, little bathroom that I share with 3 men. Believe me, it's no picnic in the park when I have to powder my nose.
There's talk among the staff these days of a suicide that apparently occured in said bathroom many many years ago. The rumour's source is a woman that I ~deeply~ respect (as she was the mentor to ~my~ mentor) so I'm not about to be pointing fingers, growling "LIAR" any time soon. However, I'm not entirely convinced this wasn't a prank designed to freak the shit out of a certain young lady we used to have the pleasure of working alongside. 'Cause I know ~I've~ tried but started laughing halfway through.
I do miss her. She was a great little girl who's now gone on to UBC.
But that's not the point of my post...the girl or the suicide.
I've been scouring the internet lately on any story of a ghost at the Plaza Theatre. I have read, heard, or had discussions about a benign female 'presence' in the theatre for years now. Not regularly, but occassionally...and from very different sources. It's always the same story, too. Nothing special...no one was rushed by shrieking harpies...just that she's ~there~.
Again...I don't believe in this stuff. But I challenge any of you to be there alone at midnight with the lights off and not have the slightest paranormal thought. Or even during the day...it's bloody dark. 'Cause I have and you can freak yourself out veeerrryyy easily. So, don't judge me. Dang.
But I can't find anything about it anywhere. Someone's got to have said something to someone who has access to the web, doncha think?
Anyway...that's my story. Oh, and as an interesting side note, in researching my little theatre, I ended up finding out that the building that houses my day job is actually built right on top of the original site of the Prince House. The Prince House has now been moved to Heritage park but is considered itself to be haunted. Interesting, I thought.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Moral Matrix
as soon as I can figure out how to post the results for this properly, my cut/paste job will have to do.
Your Score
Your scored -2 on the Moral Order axis and 1 on the Moral Rules axis.
Matches
The following items best match your score:
System: Socialism
Variation: Moderate Socialism
Ideologies: Social Democratism
US Parties: Democratic Party
Presidents: Jimmy Carter (90.12%)
2004 Election Candidates: John Kerry (86.02%), Ralph Nader (82.32%), George W. Bush (59.25%)
Statistics
Of the 29876 people who took the test:
1.1% had the same score as you.
22.7% were above you on the chart.
70.5% were below you on the chart.
48.1% were to your right on the chart.
27% were to your left on the chart.
"Jimmy Carter?? That's history's biggest monster!"
Actually, I prefer a smaller government than this makes me seem. At least I ~think~ I do...maybe not.
And thanks Bumf for the quiz.
Your Score
Your scored -2 on the Moral Order axis and 1 on the Moral Rules axis.
Matches
The following items best match your score:
System: Socialism
Variation: Moderate Socialism
Ideologies: Social Democratism
US Parties: Democratic Party
Presidents: Jimmy Carter (90.12%)
2004 Election Candidates: John Kerry (86.02%), Ralph Nader (82.32%), George W. Bush (59.25%)
Statistics
Of the 29876 people who took the test:
1.1% had the same score as you.
22.7% were above you on the chart.
70.5% were below you on the chart.
48.1% were to your right on the chart.
27% were to your left on the chart.
"Jimmy Carter?? That's history's biggest monster!"
Actually, I prefer a smaller government than this makes me seem. At least I ~think~ I do...maybe not.
And thanks Bumf for the quiz.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Can someone buy this guy a KitKat?
Viktor Yushchenko's mother died yesterday. He just ~cannot~ get a break.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Did I ever tell you about the time...
I'm doing laundry right now.
Firstly.
I thought in a building with only two washers and two driers it was just ~done~ to only take up one at a time. However, the other tenants of my building seem to think differently (effers) and now so will I. Yes, so will I.
But I just remembered something that happened a couple of months ago.
You know when you're doing laundry you can lose track of how many loads you've done or what machines you used to do them? At least ~I~ never keep track of these things. And that will explain my not-so-quick-to-act portion of my story.
Anyway...
I was doing laundry. Someone else was doing laundry, too, and was at the drying portion of the event. They had taken the top dryer.
My wash was done and I was gunna load the bottom dryer. I opened the washer lid and noticed that my wash had been 'gone through'. I just shrugged it off as someone who probably was missing a sock and used the washer before me.
I continued to load the dryer and when I glanced up at the top dryer, among the dark towels was a flash of pink.
Then a flash of yellow.
Then a flash of pink and yellow.
I have pink panties. I also have yellow panties.
And sure as you're sitting there skimming and disinterested in this blog, I opened the door of the top dryer and retrieved my panties!
Mulling this over while climbing the stairs back to my apartment...and then still while I was telling my boyfriend this story...I (and I hate that I have this ability) came up with a perfectly reasonable explanation. I must've used that dryer and my panties stayed inside.
So, when my boyfriend suggested we wait downstairs and confront whoever attempted to steal my panties, I lamed out.
Now, in hindsight, he was right. I didn't use that dryer that day.
Creepy, hey?
I washed the panties twice over but never was able to wear them again and sadly threw them out.
Firstly.
I thought in a building with only two washers and two driers it was just ~done~ to only take up one at a time. However, the other tenants of my building seem to think differently (effers) and now so will I. Yes, so will I.
But I just remembered something that happened a couple of months ago.
You know when you're doing laundry you can lose track of how many loads you've done or what machines you used to do them? At least ~I~ never keep track of these things. And that will explain my not-so-quick-to-act portion of my story.
Anyway...
I was doing laundry. Someone else was doing laundry, too, and was at the drying portion of the event. They had taken the top dryer.
My wash was done and I was gunna load the bottom dryer. I opened the washer lid and noticed that my wash had been 'gone through'. I just shrugged it off as someone who probably was missing a sock and used the washer before me.
I continued to load the dryer and when I glanced up at the top dryer, among the dark towels was a flash of pink.
Then a flash of yellow.
Then a flash of pink and yellow.
I have pink panties. I also have yellow panties.
And sure as you're sitting there skimming and disinterested in this blog, I opened the door of the top dryer and retrieved my panties!
Mulling this over while climbing the stairs back to my apartment...and then still while I was telling my boyfriend this story...I (and I hate that I have this ability) came up with a perfectly reasonable explanation. I must've used that dryer and my panties stayed inside.
So, when my boyfriend suggested we wait downstairs and confront whoever attempted to steal my panties, I lamed out.
Now, in hindsight, he was right. I didn't use that dryer that day.
Creepy, hey?
I washed the panties twice over but never was able to wear them again and sadly threw them out.
Linkity-link...
While I'm at it, I think I ought to pass on some links that I think are purdy durn interesting.
Fer instance:
1/ Hands. This guy collects pictures of hands. I used to go to chat sites and request pictures of people's bellies with my name written on them, but no one did it. Effers. This guy's got a ~ton~ of hands.
(hey...I'd forgotten all about that project. If anyone wants to do it, feel free.)
2/ Skeletons. Ever wonder what your favorite cartoon character would look like a few years after they died? This guy has the answer.
3/ Living. She takes the coolest photos of live animals and insects doing what they do.
4/ Alice. If you love stuff, you'll love this. Alice in wonderland done by the nifty little designers at FGA.
Fer instance:
1/ Hands. This guy collects pictures of hands. I used to go to chat sites and request pictures of people's bellies with my name written on them, but no one did it. Effers. This guy's got a ~ton~ of hands.
(hey...I'd forgotten all about that project. If anyone wants to do it, feel free.)
2/ Skeletons. Ever wonder what your favorite cartoon character would look like a few years after they died? This guy has the answer.
3/ Living. She takes the coolest photos of live animals and insects doing what they do.
4/ Alice. If you love stuff, you'll love this. Alice in wonderland done by the nifty little designers at FGA.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Been awhile...
Wow...that's Tura Satana. You may remember her from Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill. That little creation of Mr. Grubby himself, Russ Meyer, that became the favourite of every rockabilly and the occassional non-retarded person, too. I have to admit, I get a kick outta it and pop it in the VCR every so often.
I guess she still looks good, but think about ~this~. She used to date Elvis. Now, I'm putting up my dollars against your doughnuts that The King didn't spend nearly as much time on his appearance as our lovely Ms. Satana has in her bosom-y life, so imagine what he would look like now.
Soooo....what's been up? I've been away from blogging for awhile and am eager to get back in the saddle. And, dude...this is a great find.
I have to say...for all the uproar that my life is supposed to contain currently, I've not felt so calm and in control for a very long time. I had a dream the other night. It was a really crazy, violent dream and it disturbed me so much that I woke up at 5 am and ate half my kitchen. But...what disturbed me most of all was that I was actually just hungry...not particularly bothered by the fact that in my dream I bashed this guy's face against the floor so hard that he died or by the fact that I killed him because he was trying to hurt me. AND the guy used to be this guy I used to work with...that I don't hate.
So, I thought about it.
And the next day, I realized that I ~regularly~ have chase-y, stalk-y, hurt-y dreams in which I'm trying to fight back but can't. THIS one was the first time I can remember that I actually managed to win the fight. So...in the end, it was a pretty good dream after all.
the end.
I guess she still looks good, but think about ~this~. She used to date Elvis. Now, I'm putting up my dollars against your doughnuts that The King didn't spend nearly as much time on his appearance as our lovely Ms. Satana has in her bosom-y life, so imagine what he would look like now.
Soooo....what's been up? I've been away from blogging for awhile and am eager to get back in the saddle. And, dude...this is a great find.
I have to say...for all the uproar that my life is supposed to contain currently, I've not felt so calm and in control for a very long time. I had a dream the other night. It was a really crazy, violent dream and it disturbed me so much that I woke up at 5 am and ate half my kitchen. But...what disturbed me most of all was that I was actually just hungry...not particularly bothered by the fact that in my dream I bashed this guy's face against the floor so hard that he died or by the fact that I killed him because he was trying to hurt me. AND the guy used to be this guy I used to work with...that I don't hate.
So, I thought about it.
And the next day, I realized that I ~regularly~ have chase-y, stalk-y, hurt-y dreams in which I'm trying to fight back but can't. THIS one was the first time I can remember that I actually managed to win the fight. So...in the end, it was a pretty good dream after all.
the end.
Friday, January 21, 2005
What is uuuupppp?
I'd like to say a thing or two about a thing or two:
1/ I've not posted for awhile...I'm not certain anyone gives a crap, but I'm agunna start posting more soon.
2/ Homestarrunner; a must for any girl's wardrobe.
1/ I've not posted for awhile...I'm not certain anyone gives a crap, but I'm agunna start posting more soon.
2/ Homestarrunner; a must for any girl's wardrobe.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Well...whooda guessed it...
|
Your Famous Blogger Twin is Moby |
Creative, cosmopolitan, and a bit moody If something's on your mind, it's on your blog |
quizzy quizzerton
|
Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence |
 You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator. |
Thanks for the quiz, Bumf. All I can say is that it ~better~ be 'linguistic intelligence' or my degree is for naught.
Monday, January 03, 2005
uh...
quote:
Dressed in a gold lame Gucci pant leg, the limb appeared to choke up as it described it's separation from the famed singer, "I...I had many wonderful years with Diamond Dave. I mean, we really high-kicked some butt together. Back in the 80's when he used to shave me and Lefty using champagne and caviar in place of foam...those years are precious to me. But, all good things...well, you know."
...and I was hooked...
I don't know who this is, but it's worth a look...
Dressed in a gold lame Gucci pant leg, the limb appeared to choke up as it described it's separation from the famed singer, "I...I had many wonderful years with Diamond Dave. I mean, we really high-kicked some butt together. Back in the 80's when he used to shave me and Lefty using champagne and caviar in place of foam...those years are precious to me. But, all good things...well, you know."
...and I was hooked...
I don't know who this is, but it's worth a look...
Warcraft Widow
Stupid sweet addicting warcraft. It done took my baby away.
So...it's a new year and I've made a resolution or two:
1/ I will find new adjectives and USE them. I am 32 years old and should not be relying on the old standbys 'wicked' 'awesome' and 'cool' as often as I do.
okay...so I made one.
The rest are all stuff I was gonna do anyway:
1/ I will continue my exercise schedule.
2/ I will work towards getting back to school.
3/ I will learn more about my sweet sweet projectors.
yadda yadda yadda.
I'm bored with this post now, so whoever's reading this must already be gone.
So...it's a new year and I've made a resolution or two:
1/ I will find new adjectives and USE them. I am 32 years old and should not be relying on the old standbys 'wicked' 'awesome' and 'cool' as often as I do.
okay...so I made one.
The rest are all stuff I was gonna do anyway:
1/ I will continue my exercise schedule.
2/ I will work towards getting back to school.
3/ I will learn more about my sweet sweet projectors.
yadda yadda yadda.
I'm bored with this post now, so whoever's reading this must already be gone.
What did you guys do for New Year's?
Not much.
I'd like to wish everyone who reads this a Happy New Year and hope that 2005 is a hootnanny.
by the way, check this guy's work out.
I'd like to wish everyone who reads this a Happy New Year and hope that 2005 is a hootnanny.
by the way, check this guy's work out.
Monday, December 20, 2004
ten times too small
Really, I'm not a grinch.
I don't mind Christmas at all...'specially this year because I'm not going to be as rushed as I used to be.
But (barring the Grinch's theme song) I really really hate Christmas music. It drives me batty.
I don't mind Christmas at all...'specially this year because I'm not going to be as rushed as I used to be.
But (barring the Grinch's theme song) I really really hate Christmas music. It drives me batty.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Battle of the Funk Giants
Last week, my friend (eener) took me to see James Brown. It was a birthday gift.
At first (before I knew she had bought me the ticket) I was an asshole and protested ~vehemently~ my attendance at such an event. 'Splain why? Well, because I had seen George Clinton earlier this year and really really really tried to get down with the funk. And I did...at first. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and Bop Gunned as best I could until the music turned less familiar and I woke up to the cold reality that what I was watching was a lot of young people jamming on stage while a 65 year old man in a t-shirt and sweatpants smoked pot and invited young ladies up on stage so he could feel them up.
Which is fine. I think he's earned it.
I just wished I hadn't paid to see it.
So when Eener casually asked if I was going to see James Brown, she did not expect the 3 hour rant I went on with an added 35 minutes when she said, "I heard George Clinton was good"....(I guess I forgot to tell her I left early).
On the other hand, George Clinton is/was a visionary and a creative genius. P-Funk changed lives. Don't laugh. I'm serious. I watched a documentary once. Okay...a guy did a thing on them on the radio, but imagine you're a black young person in the late 60s, early 70s in the US. I think even a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, can safely say that there was not a whole whack of opportunity or equality offered people of colour in those days. And because I'm a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, I never even thought of this while enjoying the music, but the whole mythology behind what is P-funk...Starchild, Sir Nose D'voidoffunk, bopguns, flashlights, the mothership connection, WEFUNK, reclaiming the secrets of the pyramids, Dr. Funkenstein...was a way to tell young black kids that they, too, had a chance. They had something valuable to offer. I'll paraphrase something the guy on CBC's DNTO said when ~he~ quoted someone as saying that watching a group of black people piloting a spaceship, saving the world in their elaborate story was very new to them. It made them realize that they ~did~ have an important role in the future.
I stand behind my claim that P-funk (George Clinton) changed lives.
Now...before them, even, was the inventor of funk himself. The Godfather, Soulbrother #1, the Hardest Working Man in Showbiz, The King of Soul....James Brown.
I don't know if it's true that he invented funk...but he was at least the first to bring it forth to the table where it spilled out onto the floor and ran under our feet and into our hearts. So...without doing too much research into the matter and reading nerdy music lovers argue back and forth on some funk newsgroup, we'll just assume this.
I'm going to now extend my 'changed lives' theory over to James Brown. He, too, was an activist for black rights and always looked good, put on a good show, had an impeccably tight band (because he fined them if they weren't). Very powerful and influencial man and entertainer. And if you doubt his message reached and affected many many ears, then just listen to rap from the 80s to now...most sampled artist.
Having thought about all that....
As the concert date neared, I began to soften a/ on my James Brown stance...would be interesting to see him perform and b/ on my George Clinton stance...it was worth the money just to see what the man's up to these days and to support all he's done.
Well...I was right in the end. James Brown was fabulous. Not in a 'I couldn't stop the funk from taking over my booty' sort of way....in a 'holy shit! so ~this~ is his vision' sort of way.
All in all, if I were to offer a compare/contrast sort of thing (which is essentially what I'm doing), I saw this year how two men, who've both accomplished so much in the same field, have reacted to their age. They're both old, both hard working, both like 'the party', both flamboyant.....and both have ways of coping with the fact that they can't do what they used to. George Clinton decided to come out in his at-home lounge outfit, mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he shuffles across the stage sharing a joint with his band and audience. James Brown decided to come out in a red-sequined jumpsuit (which, frankly, ~could~ be his at-home lounge outfit for all I know), mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he prances (as much as he's able) across the stage. Both are about ~serious~ smoke and mirrors these days.
And that's not a criticism. I think it's perfectly reasonable that these men now get to take a little break after working as hard as they did...and I think it's perfectly reasonable that they still tour.
But, James Brown - that guy ain't goin' down without a fight. His show is, well, the living shrine he built for himself ...and stopped updating sometime in the 80s. Good lord. It was absolutely amazing and a very real glimpse into the inner working of that man's mind, I would like to think.
Shine and glitter. Multi-multi piece band. Backup singers. The women...oh, the women. Eff you if you don't think this is significant, but he had two black women, two white women and two hispanic women (one was a young'ish woman he was 'showcasing'...danced around in shiny pants and a capelet singing "Hold On" (Sam & Dave). Tomi Rae. Had no clue at the time that this was his ~wife~ who is the same ~wife~ who was the ~wife~ most recently to slap assault charges on him....until I read about his prostate cancer and they mentioned her (get well, JB)). If you would have watched the show like I watched the show, you would have noticed that the whole thing was undoubtedly designed to display his greatness and importance. Young guitarists calling him 'sir', backup singers repeating 'He's the king of Soul', one of the backup singers 'losing it' and ranting like a rabid preacher that the band could not ~possibly~ start Sex Machine without him 'counting it off' for he is The Godfather and they shan't make a move without his say - all while he stood by looking like this was all news to him. Ahhh...beautiful.
And why not?
In the end it's been a fascinating year (having seen a nearly 60 year old David Bowie and now having tickets clenched in my grubby little hand for the one band I have waited my entire life to say, "I'm going to see Duran Duran"). But, funkifly speaking, it's a good thing Sly Stone isn't touring or my insides would have popped. Looking back...James Brown put on a pretty good show, but if I had to choose - George Clinton would win the foot massage. I can't understand a g-damn thing JB says, anyway.
PS. Yeah...I know. I just couldn't decide between a picture of James Brown or George Clinton....so Chaka Khan won.
At first (before I knew she had bought me the ticket) I was an asshole and protested ~vehemently~ my attendance at such an event. 'Splain why? Well, because I had seen George Clinton earlier this year and really really really tried to get down with the funk. And I did...at first. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and Bop Gunned as best I could until the music turned less familiar and I woke up to the cold reality that what I was watching was a lot of young people jamming on stage while a 65 year old man in a t-shirt and sweatpants smoked pot and invited young ladies up on stage so he could feel them up.
Which is fine. I think he's earned it.
I just wished I hadn't paid to see it.
So when Eener casually asked if I was going to see James Brown, she did not expect the 3 hour rant I went on with an added 35 minutes when she said, "I heard George Clinton was good"....(I guess I forgot to tell her I left early).
On the other hand, George Clinton is/was a visionary and a creative genius. P-Funk changed lives. Don't laugh. I'm serious. I watched a documentary once. Okay...a guy did a thing on them on the radio, but imagine you're a black young person in the late 60s, early 70s in the US. I think even a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, can safely say that there was not a whole whack of opportunity or equality offered people of colour in those days. And because I'm a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, I never even thought of this while enjoying the music, but the whole mythology behind what is P-funk...Starchild, Sir Nose D'voidoffunk, bopguns, flashlights, the mothership connection, WEFUNK, reclaiming the secrets of the pyramids, Dr. Funkenstein...was a way to tell young black kids that they, too, had a chance. They had something valuable to offer. I'll paraphrase something the guy on CBC's DNTO said when ~he~ quoted someone as saying that watching a group of black people piloting a spaceship, saving the world in their elaborate story was very new to them. It made them realize that they ~did~ have an important role in the future.
I stand behind my claim that P-funk (George Clinton) changed lives.
Now...before them, even, was the inventor of funk himself. The Godfather, Soulbrother #1, the Hardest Working Man in Showbiz, The King of Soul....James Brown.
I don't know if it's true that he invented funk...but he was at least the first to bring it forth to the table where it spilled out onto the floor and ran under our feet and into our hearts. So...without doing too much research into the matter and reading nerdy music lovers argue back and forth on some funk newsgroup, we'll just assume this.
I'm going to now extend my 'changed lives' theory over to James Brown. He, too, was an activist for black rights and always looked good, put on a good show, had an impeccably tight band (because he fined them if they weren't). Very powerful and influencial man and entertainer. And if you doubt his message reached and affected many many ears, then just listen to rap from the 80s to now...most sampled artist.
Having thought about all that....
As the concert date neared, I began to soften a/ on my James Brown stance...would be interesting to see him perform and b/ on my George Clinton stance...it was worth the money just to see what the man's up to these days and to support all he's done.
Well...I was right in the end. James Brown was fabulous. Not in a 'I couldn't stop the funk from taking over my booty' sort of way....in a 'holy shit! so ~this~ is his vision' sort of way.
All in all, if I were to offer a compare/contrast sort of thing (which is essentially what I'm doing), I saw this year how two men, who've both accomplished so much in the same field, have reacted to their age. They're both old, both hard working, both like 'the party', both flamboyant.....and both have ways of coping with the fact that they can't do what they used to. George Clinton decided to come out in his at-home lounge outfit, mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he shuffles across the stage sharing a joint with his band and audience. James Brown decided to come out in a red-sequined jumpsuit (which, frankly, ~could~ be his at-home lounge outfit for all I know), mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he prances (as much as he's able) across the stage. Both are about ~serious~ smoke and mirrors these days.
And that's not a criticism. I think it's perfectly reasonable that these men now get to take a little break after working as hard as they did...and I think it's perfectly reasonable that they still tour.
But, James Brown - that guy ain't goin' down without a fight. His show is, well, the living shrine he built for himself ...and stopped updating sometime in the 80s. Good lord. It was absolutely amazing and a very real glimpse into the inner working of that man's mind, I would like to think.
Shine and glitter. Multi-multi piece band. Backup singers. The women...oh, the women. Eff you if you don't think this is significant, but he had two black women, two white women and two hispanic women (one was a young'ish woman he was 'showcasing'...danced around in shiny pants and a capelet singing "Hold On" (Sam & Dave). Tomi Rae. Had no clue at the time that this was his ~wife~ who is the same ~wife~ who was the ~wife~ most recently to slap assault charges on him....until I read about his prostate cancer and they mentioned her (get well, JB)). If you would have watched the show like I watched the show, you would have noticed that the whole thing was undoubtedly designed to display his greatness and importance. Young guitarists calling him 'sir', backup singers repeating 'He's the king of Soul', one of the backup singers 'losing it' and ranting like a rabid preacher that the band could not ~possibly~ start Sex Machine without him 'counting it off' for he is The Godfather and they shan't make a move without his say - all while he stood by looking like this was all news to him. Ahhh...beautiful.
And why not?
In the end it's been a fascinating year (having seen a nearly 60 year old David Bowie and now having tickets clenched in my grubby little hand for the one band I have waited my entire life to say, "I'm going to see Duran Duran"). But, funkifly speaking, it's a good thing Sly Stone isn't touring or my insides would have popped. Looking back...James Brown put on a pretty good show, but if I had to choose - George Clinton would win the foot massage. I can't understand a g-damn thing JB says, anyway.
PS. Yeah...I know. I just couldn't decide between a picture of James Brown or George Clinton....so Chaka Khan won.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Lamb of God in Land of Fat-ted Calf
Seriously...
I went for a run today in -18 C weather so I could eat half a bag of Fudgeos with milk.
Ahhhh...I can tell by the big clock, children, that it's nearly time for
*whisper*
"that" time.
so...no regrets...and bring on the sour cream and onion potato chips, too!
*patting my belly*
Anyway...the real reason I was posting was to introduce this again. This site has caused me to look, believe, disbelieve, and then look again. I don't know if it's real..but I ~think~ it is. I mean, check it, yo:
Anti-triclavianist
Wha-wha-wha-huh? I mean, I have a degree in Linguistics, so I'm used to unusual debates that most people put in the 'rat's ass' category...but...
And yes...I know that it's the ~principle~ behind the matter...but, really...~really~.....
Because there is a belief out there that Christ was nailed to the cross with ~three~ nails, the church is in danger of being overrun by securlarists? Gracious, Helen, did you lock the basement windows after the craft sale?? I spotted an Atheist in the Safeway. How did I know? Well, he looked like the guy found in here.
It is this...~this very thing and things like it~ that keep people from caring about anything real.
..and the children...don't forget about the children.
Anyway...I could post about this site all day. Enjoy yerselves.
I went for a run today in -18 C weather so I could eat half a bag of Fudgeos with milk.
Ahhhh...I can tell by the big clock, children, that it's nearly time for
*whisper*
"that" time.
so...no regrets...and bring on the sour cream and onion potato chips, too!
*patting my belly*
Anyway...the real reason I was posting was to introduce this again. This site has caused me to look, believe, disbelieve, and then look again. I don't know if it's real..but I ~think~ it is. I mean, check it, yo:
Anti-triclavianist
Wha-wha-wha-huh? I mean, I have a degree in Linguistics, so I'm used to unusual debates that most people put in the 'rat's ass' category...but...
And yes...I know that it's the ~principle~ behind the matter...but, really...~really~.....
Because there is a belief out there that Christ was nailed to the cross with ~three~ nails, the church is in danger of being overrun by securlarists? Gracious, Helen, did you lock the basement windows after the craft sale?? I spotted an Atheist in the Safeway. How did I know? Well, he looked like the guy found in here.
It is this...~this very thing and things like it~ that keep people from caring about anything real.
..and the children...don't forget about the children.
Anyway...I could post about this site all day. Enjoy yerselves.
ummmm...
I think I have to put the Weather Underground documentary in my top ten somewhere...
see? this is how I got 20 last time.
see? this is how I got 20 last time.
Top Tens
A year ago I tried to do a list of favourite movies.
I've been drinking wine...bear with me.
I had a list of 32 movies and it was all I could do to narrow it down to 20.
But I lost that list...I don't know where it is.
I suggest (after reading Bumf's request for the best of 2004) that anyone reading this (ha! all 3 of you) submit your top TEN ~all time~ fave movies, books, and albums.
So...considering it is nearly impossible for me to do that let me say that I will not hold you to your choices...these fave lists change with the seasons...I know.
So...movies...let me try my first run list...subject to change without notice and in no particular order:
1- Breakfast at Tiffanys
2- Annie Hall
3- Withnail and I
4- Royal Tannenbaums
5- Top Secret
6- Ferris Bueler's Day Off
7- Love and Death
8- Unbearable Lightness of Being
9- Best In Show
10- High Fidelity
maybe...
I dunno...I'll see if that's true...but now I'm going to bed.
night.
I've been drinking wine...bear with me.
I had a list of 32 movies and it was all I could do to narrow it down to 20.
But I lost that list...I don't know where it is.
I suggest (after reading Bumf's request for the best of 2004) that anyone reading this (ha! all 3 of you) submit your top TEN ~all time~ fave movies, books, and albums.
So...considering it is nearly impossible for me to do that let me say that I will not hold you to your choices...these fave lists change with the seasons...I know.
So...movies...let me try my first run list...subject to change without notice and in no particular order:
1- Breakfast at Tiffanys
2- Annie Hall
3- Withnail and I
4- Royal Tannenbaums
5- Top Secret
6- Ferris Bueler's Day Off
7- Love and Death
8- Unbearable Lightness of Being
9- Best In Show
10- High Fidelity
maybe...
I dunno...I'll see if that's true...but now I'm going to bed.
night.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
In response...
Hey dude...your comments thingy wasn't working, so I decided to post my comment here...
You made some good points and I understand why you see it that way, but the way I see it is this:
Firstly, just because a person identifies themselves with a group, doesn't make them a part of it. Mohammed Bouyeri belongs ~not necessarily~ with the jihad muslims in Iraq...he belongs more likely to the group called 'murderers'. Yes, he "slit his throat so deeply that his head was almost severed." but the only reason he's identified with jihad is because there is currently a war situation in which muslim groups are fighting and he identified himself as committing this act ~for~ Islam...it doesn't mean that he was sent or even affiliated with any particular 'army' or group of fighters.
Mark David Chapman and John Hinckley Jr. cited Catcher In The Rye and Jodie Foster (respectively) as reasons for their (one successful, one attempted) assassinations. No one believes they were actually affiliated with either...they just think they're crazy. Slightly different situations, I know, but what I'm trying to say is that it's likey it's the same ~sort~ of idea with Mohammed Bouyeri.
Secondly...yes, Holland is a very tolerant country...very. Amsterdam is a uniquely interesting place to walk around, but aside from petty crimes, fairly safe. Muggings abound, but the women I've spoken to there tell me they feel free to walk home at 4 am should they wish. People are usually pretty friendly and very helpful (some I met can be kinda creepy, but harmless...remind me to tell you a story). One of the reasons this was so shocking.
I know the idea of a society tolerant to drug usage, sex trade workers, etc would seem like the place where, as Andrew Anthony puts it "...it does not take a social scientist to see that a veiled woman might have problems living next to a live sex show." But that's not how it is...or at least from what I've seen. Once out of the red light district, you really see no evidence of it in the rest of the city, and I would probably venture to say the rest of the country. The 'veiled woman' has an abundance of choice when it comes to living locations and, frankly, I think very few people live next to the live sex show theatres. You can choose to ~stay~ there, but the city is big and the red light district is only a few blocks around. The reason that the murder of Theo Van Gogh was such big news is because this behaviour isn't common in Holland...so I see no reason for it to be a sign of a declining nation and/or way of life.
Thirdly...the beheadings. Awful, yes. They are absolutely terrible. They are also an act of a desparate people fighting a war against a force that is by FAR better armed and trained than they are. It's war and people are dying...Iraqis, Americans, Brits, Koreans, all sorts. However, the coalition forces have the technology and manpower to drop bombs or spray bullets. You can't expect the lesser equiped ones to fight fair...they know they'd be creamed. These muslim groups have come up with a way to make each death they cause ~mean~ something...in contrast to their thousands of anonymous ones. I don't think it's good...I don't think ~either~ are good, but that's what war is. People killing people.
Most people aren't evil...but desparate people are capable of doing very evil things..and that's what they are, desparate.
I'll read the Andrew Anthony article, though...and post that later.
You made some good points and I understand why you see it that way, but the way I see it is this:
Firstly, just because a person identifies themselves with a group, doesn't make them a part of it. Mohammed Bouyeri belongs ~not necessarily~ with the jihad muslims in Iraq...he belongs more likely to the group called 'murderers'. Yes, he "slit his throat so deeply that his head was almost severed." but the only reason he's identified with jihad is because there is currently a war situation in which muslim groups are fighting and he identified himself as committing this act ~for~ Islam...it doesn't mean that he was sent or even affiliated with any particular 'army' or group of fighters.
Mark David Chapman and John Hinckley Jr. cited Catcher In The Rye and Jodie Foster (respectively) as reasons for their (one successful, one attempted) assassinations. No one believes they were actually affiliated with either...they just think they're crazy. Slightly different situations, I know, but what I'm trying to say is that it's likey it's the same ~sort~ of idea with Mohammed Bouyeri.
Secondly...yes, Holland is a very tolerant country...very. Amsterdam is a uniquely interesting place to walk around, but aside from petty crimes, fairly safe. Muggings abound, but the women I've spoken to there tell me they feel free to walk home at 4 am should they wish. People are usually pretty friendly and very helpful (some I met can be kinda creepy, but harmless...remind me to tell you a story). One of the reasons this was so shocking.
I know the idea of a society tolerant to drug usage, sex trade workers, etc would seem like the place where, as Andrew Anthony puts it "...it does not take a social scientist to see that a veiled woman might have problems living next to a live sex show." But that's not how it is...or at least from what I've seen. Once out of the red light district, you really see no evidence of it in the rest of the city, and I would probably venture to say the rest of the country. The 'veiled woman' has an abundance of choice when it comes to living locations and, frankly, I think very few people live next to the live sex show theatres. You can choose to ~stay~ there, but the city is big and the red light district is only a few blocks around. The reason that the murder of Theo Van Gogh was such big news is because this behaviour isn't common in Holland...so I see no reason for it to be a sign of a declining nation and/or way of life.
Thirdly...the beheadings. Awful, yes. They are absolutely terrible. They are also an act of a desparate people fighting a war against a force that is by FAR better armed and trained than they are. It's war and people are dying...Iraqis, Americans, Brits, Koreans, all sorts. However, the coalition forces have the technology and manpower to drop bombs or spray bullets. You can't expect the lesser equiped ones to fight fair...they know they'd be creamed. These muslim groups have come up with a way to make each death they cause ~mean~ something...in contrast to their thousands of anonymous ones. I don't think it's good...I don't think ~either~ are good, but that's what war is. People killing people.
Most people aren't evil...but desparate people are capable of doing very evil things..and that's what they are, desparate.
I'll read the Andrew Anthony article, though...and post that later.
Quilting
Listening to Sounds Like Canada the other day.
They interviewed these people involved in a project to commemorate the underground railroad in Owen Sound. A pretty interesting project, I'd say, on it's own. However, the woman went on to explain their usage of a 'quilting code' in the building of this cairn.
Evidently, back in the days of slavery in the US, there was a system of code in the patchworking of quilts made by anyone 'on the team', so to speak. So...a quilt containing different symbols would direct a slave to people who could help, safehouses, and, in the end, Canada. And the slave masters were none the wiser.
Very interesting.
They interviewed these people involved in a project to commemorate the underground railroad in Owen Sound. A pretty interesting project, I'd say, on it's own. However, the woman went on to explain their usage of a 'quilting code' in the building of this cairn.
Evidently, back in the days of slavery in the US, there was a system of code in the patchworking of quilts made by anyone 'on the team', so to speak. So...a quilt containing different symbols would direct a slave to people who could help, safehouses, and, in the end, Canada. And the slave masters were none the wiser.
Very interesting.
*yawn*
I can pull myself back up, back down
Stuck together like a readymade
I'm stuck...
I've got stuff that I want to write about, but it's not forming itself in my brain properly and these lame posts are all I got.
Funny how when you read your friend's blogs you recognise parts of your conversations with them.
I just made cookies...they're all warm and cooling in the kitchen and I can't even look at them because I ate their brothers when they were just baby-dough.
Now I feel grody.
Plus, I meant to run today, but it snowed and I made cookies....two reasons I couldn't go.
Now I'm blogging the boyf is stuck in the virtual world of Warcraft....I wish I was playing. Every so often I hear a 'riiight onnnn' from the other side of the room. Both of our bellies are full of cookies and bloating.
*jiggle*
Stuck together like a readymade
I'm stuck...
I've got stuff that I want to write about, but it's not forming itself in my brain properly and these lame posts are all I got.
Funny how when you read your friend's blogs you recognise parts of your conversations with them.
I just made cookies...they're all warm and cooling in the kitchen and I can't even look at them because I ate their brothers when they were just baby-dough.
Now I feel grody.
Plus, I meant to run today, but it snowed and I made cookies....two reasons I couldn't go.
Now I'm blogging the boyf is stuck in the virtual world of Warcraft....I wish I was playing. Every so often I hear a 'riiight onnnn' from the other side of the room. Both of our bellies are full of cookies and bloating.
*jiggle*
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Thursday, November 25, 2004
...tastes like itchy
I'm allergic to nuts.
I actually don't know ~which~ nuts I'm allergic to, I've just avoided all things nutty since I was two years old. Well, at that age, I was having them avoided for me.
It all started one day when my mother, unaware of my condition, was lovingly pushing me in a cart through Safeway when she came across a display of walnuts. She carefully chose one, bit off a small chunk, fed it to me and then stood back in horror as she watched her cherubic little darling swell into something that resembled a hungover John Merrick.
She sat up all night listening to my breathing patterns after a doctor at the hospital sent us home with a 'just keep an eye on her and she should be alright'.
So...ever since...I've never eaten nuts. There's a couple I've ingested by accident...it's a crap shoot, really. I've come through some of those times completely unscathed and other times it has resulted in a very uncomfortable evening of finding an uncrowded walk-in clinic. But I've not been to the hospital since...so I doubt I'm the type that will keel over if a peanut touches one of my M&Ms.
Which puts me in the (seemingly) unique position of not knowing what nuts taste like. I know I've had them, but had I known there were nuts in whatever I was eating, I would have not eaten them...you see? So, I don't know what the taste ~is~, exactly. Not all nuts taste like danger to me, so it's difficult to say. Plus, ~quantity~ is a factor. Say I were to eat something and find nuts in it...the next mouthful may be the mouthful that changes my day from carefree to constricted throat. So, if I suspect something's amis, it's best to abort the whole eating mission altogether.
Which is what I was trying to explain to the kid at the coffeeshop today when I told him I was unable to identify the 'different' taste of my iced vanilla latte, but needed to know if it was nuts because I didn't know what nuts tasted like. He was very cool about it and gave me a new one, but he was all, 'dude...you don't know what nuts ~taste~ like? That is so, like, weird.'
My mother, in her unending struggle to not let her baby be denied any of life's pleasures, bought me No Nut Butter...a peanut butter substitute made, I think, of peas...not sure. I'll check the label. Anyway...I don't like it. According to my boy and blackmana...it tastes almost like the real thing, so if that's the case then I suggest it's an acquired taste that I have not acquired through years of being handed a pb&j sandwich and sent to watch cartoons. The boy eats it now. Which brings me to another funny event when I offered to make him toast one morning and asked what he'd like on it.
"Peanut butter and marmalade!"
"Really??", I asked because he's often a joker.
"uh...yeah...of course"
See? I don't know what goes with peanutbutter. I hear jelly. I hear bananas. Hell if I know.
I actually don't know ~which~ nuts I'm allergic to, I've just avoided all things nutty since I was two years old. Well, at that age, I was having them avoided for me.
It all started one day when my mother, unaware of my condition, was lovingly pushing me in a cart through Safeway when she came across a display of walnuts. She carefully chose one, bit off a small chunk, fed it to me and then stood back in horror as she watched her cherubic little darling swell into something that resembled a hungover John Merrick.
She sat up all night listening to my breathing patterns after a doctor at the hospital sent us home with a 'just keep an eye on her and she should be alright'.
So...ever since...I've never eaten nuts. There's a couple I've ingested by accident...it's a crap shoot, really. I've come through some of those times completely unscathed and other times it has resulted in a very uncomfortable evening of finding an uncrowded walk-in clinic. But I've not been to the hospital since...so I doubt I'm the type that will keel over if a peanut touches one of my M&Ms.
Which puts me in the (seemingly) unique position of not knowing what nuts taste like. I know I've had them, but had I known there were nuts in whatever I was eating, I would have not eaten them...you see? So, I don't know what the taste ~is~, exactly. Not all nuts taste like danger to me, so it's difficult to say. Plus, ~quantity~ is a factor. Say I were to eat something and find nuts in it...the next mouthful may be the mouthful that changes my day from carefree to constricted throat. So, if I suspect something's amis, it's best to abort the whole eating mission altogether.
Which is what I was trying to explain to the kid at the coffeeshop today when I told him I was unable to identify the 'different' taste of my iced vanilla latte, but needed to know if it was nuts because I didn't know what nuts tasted like. He was very cool about it and gave me a new one, but he was all, 'dude...you don't know what nuts ~taste~ like? That is so, like, weird.'
My mother, in her unending struggle to not let her baby be denied any of life's pleasures, bought me No Nut Butter...a peanut butter substitute made, I think, of peas...not sure. I'll check the label. Anyway...I don't like it. According to my boy and blackmana...it tastes almost like the real thing, so if that's the case then I suggest it's an acquired taste that I have not acquired through years of being handed a pb&j sandwich and sent to watch cartoons. The boy eats it now. Which brings me to another funny event when I offered to make him toast one morning and asked what he'd like on it.
"Peanut butter and marmalade!"
"Really??", I asked because he's often a joker.
"uh...yeah...of course"
See? I don't know what goes with peanutbutter. I hear jelly. I hear bananas. Hell if I know.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
shhh...no words
I've been trying to think of a post that would go with this...but I can't. It would best be left on it's own.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...a proud man:
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...a proud man:
Great God A'mighty!
Will someone please tell me what the EFF this is ???
I suggest the Kid's Corner.
I've seen this site -looked over it again and again- for a couple of years now. I ~don't think~ it's a joke. I ~think~ it's real. BUT I'm never quite sure. If it is a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of the world's greatest pranksters. If it ~isn't~ a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of Jesus...
*pfffft*
no I won't.
Got nothing against Jesus. Sounded like a decent guy. Got everything against his followers. Packs of mangy hounds. Very generally. Not all of them. Just the frothy ones. Like the ones that wrote that site. If it's true.
This ones not true, but funny, too:
WWBD?
I suggest the Kid's Corner.
I've seen this site -looked over it again and again- for a couple of years now. I ~don't think~ it's a joke. I ~think~ it's real. BUT I'm never quite sure. If it is a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of the world's greatest pranksters. If it ~isn't~ a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of Jesus...
*pfffft*
no I won't.
Got nothing against Jesus. Sounded like a decent guy. Got everything against his followers. Packs of mangy hounds. Very generally. Not all of them. Just the frothy ones. Like the ones that wrote that site. If it's true.
This ones not true, but funny, too:
WWBD?
the only fear is fear itself
Well...now I've gone and done it. I done told a work colleague my blog addy.
Hi Bumf.
No big deal, really, I'm just a/ shy about my blog, but whatever, that's my problem and b/ I was worried that I would eventually bitch about work and he'd be there to read it.
So...there's nothing to do but confront fear head on:
G-damn I hate my effing job.
(Bumf...you are sworn to secrecy...what is read on the web, stays on the web. Fair?)
Now...allow me to make a few disclaimers. The ~people~ I work with are great...not just saying that because Bumf is here. I'm generally left alone. There's just enough insane women to keep me amused. Bumf and a couple of others come around for a pretty good chat every so often. My boss is pretty fair and loves hearing my D&D stories. I even get paid decently - for what I do. The owner of the company is pretty cool...like, in an actual 'hip' way...not like a JC Anderson cool in a 'my god, he's just like the cartoon' way.
BUT...
but...
oh my god, but...
what have I done? My job is so useless. My talents (whatever they are) go untouched. I'm so much smarter than my job requires me to be. And as every day goes by, I've spent another 8 hours helping rich men get petroleum out of the ground as fast as those little pumpjacks can suck so that everyone can drive their monster SUVs to the corner store and keep it running while they rent Titanic. Again.
Arrgghhh.
And all because I ~really dig~ linguistics. And I was too lazy/intimidated/whatever to resist the call of oil and gas when I was a freshly graduated, newly unemployed lass.
That was 7 years ago...and for those 7 years, I've been floating at these pink collar jobs. 7 years in a pool of 'support women of the office' which often is the cattiest little group of cliches I've ever seen.
But that's another rant for another day.
So...I've made mistakes. Many.
But that's another rant for another day.
What I've got will do for now. I've luckily got my projection gig, my tutoring gig, my hobbies so that I can feel productive and interested. Eventually, the grad school in my future will be in my present...
but that's another rant for another day.
Hi Bumf.
No big deal, really, I'm just a/ shy about my blog, but whatever, that's my problem and b/ I was worried that I would eventually bitch about work and he'd be there to read it.
So...there's nothing to do but confront fear head on:
G-damn I hate my effing job.
(Bumf...you are sworn to secrecy...what is read on the web, stays on the web. Fair?)
Now...allow me to make a few disclaimers. The ~people~ I work with are great...not just saying that because Bumf is here. I'm generally left alone. There's just enough insane women to keep me amused. Bumf and a couple of others come around for a pretty good chat every so often. My boss is pretty fair and loves hearing my D&D stories. I even get paid decently - for what I do. The owner of the company is pretty cool...like, in an actual 'hip' way...not like a JC Anderson cool in a 'my god, he's just like the cartoon' way.
BUT...
but...
oh my god, but...
what have I done? My job is so useless. My talents (whatever they are) go untouched. I'm so much smarter than my job requires me to be. And as every day goes by, I've spent another 8 hours helping rich men get petroleum out of the ground as fast as those little pumpjacks can suck so that everyone can drive their monster SUVs to the corner store and keep it running while they rent Titanic. Again.
Arrgghhh.
And all because I ~really dig~ linguistics. And I was too lazy/intimidated/whatever to resist the call of oil and gas when I was a freshly graduated, newly unemployed lass.
That was 7 years ago...and for those 7 years, I've been floating at these pink collar jobs. 7 years in a pool of 'support women of the office' which often is the cattiest little group of cliches I've ever seen.
But that's another rant for another day.
So...I've made mistakes. Many.
But that's another rant for another day.
What I've got will do for now. I've luckily got my projection gig, my tutoring gig, my hobbies so that I can feel productive and interested. Eventually, the grad school in my future will be in my present...
but that's another rant for another day.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
And speaking of...
Re: quote from before
I love Woody Allen and I'm going to include some quotes I've found here:
www.woodyallen.com
I can't do the fancy-dancy link thing yet 'cause a/ I'm too lazy and b/ .... well, I think a/ covers it. I'll learn it eventually and have a pretty blog like e'ryone else. But for now, here:
"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying."
"I asked the girl if she could bring a sister for me. She did. Sister Maria Teresa. It was a very slow evening. We discussed the New Testament. We agreed that He was very well adjusted for an only child."
"More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
AAAHhhhahahahahahahaha...
*wiping tears*
aren't you glad I did that?
I love Woody Allen and I'm going to include some quotes I've found here:
www.woodyallen.com
I can't do the fancy-dancy link thing yet 'cause a/ I'm too lazy and b/ .... well, I think a/ covers it. I'll learn it eventually and have a pretty blog like e'ryone else. But for now, here:
"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying."
"I asked the girl if she could bring a sister for me. She did. Sister Maria Teresa. It was a very slow evening. We discussed the New Testament. We agreed that He was very well adjusted for an only child."
"More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
AAAHhhhahahahahahahaha...
*wiping tears*
aren't you glad I did that?
Like the man with the glasses said...
Tragedy + time = humour
I occasionally peruse the photoshop phridays on somethingawful.com but none of those photoshopped pictures...and some are damn funny...made me laugh as much as when I first saw this.
I occasionally peruse the photoshop phridays on somethingawful.com but none of those photoshopped pictures...and some are damn funny...made me laugh as much as when I first saw this.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Attractive to the elderly since 1980...
Remember that story I told you about the 74 year old man trying to pick up the lovely young lady? Me?
Okay...so the funny thing is this. And this isn't a shady story from my past, so don't get all weirded out 'cause it was a situation that ~could~ have gone bad....but didn't...so no harm was done. ANYWAY...
When I was about 8 or 9, my grandmother was in Safeway and I was outside playing and waiting with my little cousin. An old man came up to talk to us and it never dawned on me what he was trying to do. I remember ~now~ that he was trying to get me/us to go with him, but it ALSO never dawned on me to do so and that was that. But...I politely chatted with the old bastard, as I was taught to do, refusing any and all invitations for the steamy photo session I was surely in for had I left my post.
(I could have been a star!)
When it came time for him to leave...which I now realize was about the time my grandmother would have come to fetch us...he turned to me, held my face and planted a HUGE kiss directly on my mouth. TOTALLY startled, I ran inside Safeway with my cousin and found Nanny.
Nanny...always knowing what to do in a crisis...IMMEDIATELY took me to her house, sat me on the bathroom counter and sprayed perfume in my mouth while telling me stories of New Year's Eve.
"Iz alright, Steeephy. New Year's Eve ~everyone~ kissing each other. No one get sick."
*spray spray*
SO...let's get back in the time machine and sail to just a few days ago when I'm telling my father the story about the old man trying his luck on Halloween.
After his laughter died down:
He said, "do you remember when you were little and you were playing outside of Safeway while waiting for your grandmother?"
I said,"Oh! Totally! I remembered right away because I was like, "yup...still got it"...I was like, 12, right?"
He said,"No no no...you were, like, 8 or 9 because THAT was the reason I started to take you to Stampede Wrestling."
Yes...had it not been for the elderly pervert happening across two young girls at Safeway, I would have never enjoyed weeks of Stampede Wrestling at the Pavilion fun...and it ~was~ a super lot of fun. For...you see...my father saw in me that I had ~too~ much respect for my elders, so he took me to the one place in our fair city that he knew I would encounter the greatest density of adults I ~never~ had to respect my entire life...therefore learning the golden rule:
The world is generally made up of retards. Don't listen to them.
I try to practice it every day.
Goodnight, children. Don't kiss any old strangers.
Okay...so the funny thing is this. And this isn't a shady story from my past, so don't get all weirded out 'cause it was a situation that ~could~ have gone bad....but didn't...so no harm was done. ANYWAY...
When I was about 8 or 9, my grandmother was in Safeway and I was outside playing and waiting with my little cousin. An old man came up to talk to us and it never dawned on me what he was trying to do. I remember ~now~ that he was trying to get me/us to go with him, but it ALSO never dawned on me to do so and that was that. But...I politely chatted with the old bastard, as I was taught to do, refusing any and all invitations for the steamy photo session I was surely in for had I left my post.
(I could have been a star!)
When it came time for him to leave...which I now realize was about the time my grandmother would have come to fetch us...he turned to me, held my face and planted a HUGE kiss directly on my mouth. TOTALLY startled, I ran inside Safeway with my cousin and found Nanny.
Nanny...always knowing what to do in a crisis...IMMEDIATELY took me to her house, sat me on the bathroom counter and sprayed perfume in my mouth while telling me stories of New Year's Eve.
"Iz alright, Steeephy. New Year's Eve ~everyone~ kissing each other. No one get sick."
*spray spray*
SO...let's get back in the time machine and sail to just a few days ago when I'm telling my father the story about the old man trying his luck on Halloween.
After his laughter died down:
He said, "do you remember when you were little and you were playing outside of Safeway while waiting for your grandmother?"
I said,"Oh! Totally! I remembered right away because I was like, "yup...still got it"...I was like, 12, right?"
He said,"No no no...you were, like, 8 or 9 because THAT was the reason I started to take you to Stampede Wrestling."
Yes...had it not been for the elderly pervert happening across two young girls at Safeway, I would have never enjoyed weeks of Stampede Wrestling at the Pavilion fun...and it ~was~ a super lot of fun. For...you see...my father saw in me that I had ~too~ much respect for my elders, so he took me to the one place in our fair city that he knew I would encounter the greatest density of adults I ~never~ had to respect my entire life...therefore learning the golden rule:
The world is generally made up of retards. Don't listen to them.
I try to practice it every day.
Goodnight, children. Don't kiss any old strangers.
ugh...internet....ugh
Could someone please direct me to some cool sites?
Everytime I think of something I want to look up when I'm away from this damn thing...well, they just go slap outta my head by the time I come back. It's the same thing I get when I go to Recordland or a book store...
*walking*
I want this..and I want to check for that...and oh, yeah...this...and that....
*through doors*
*blink blink*
huh?
wha?
So...please....before I go back to amazon.ca!!
Everytime I think of something I want to look up when I'm away from this damn thing...well, they just go slap outta my head by the time I come back. It's the same thing I get when I go to Recordland or a book store...
*walking*
I want this..and I want to check for that...and oh, yeah...this...and that....
*through doors*
*blink blink*
huh?
wha?
So...please....before I go back to amazon.ca!!
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Hello Handsome...
I got hit on by a 74 year old man on Sunday. So I bet my halloween was WAY scarier than yours.
That's what you get for being nice to the elderly. Propositioned in a wholly inappropriate way. And, being a "nice old man", it was ~completely~ unexpected that he would ask to come home with me. But, since I'm still respecting him because he's old, I excused myself and ran away. Had he been 30 years younger, I would have belittled him to his face as I've done ~countless~ times...amusing myself and the people surrounding me. WHICH the old bastard deserved.
However...had that been one of my friends, I would have said, 'well, you can't blame him for trying'...so...there it is.
That's what you get for being nice to the elderly. Propositioned in a wholly inappropriate way. And, being a "nice old man", it was ~completely~ unexpected that he would ask to come home with me. But, since I'm still respecting him because he's old, I excused myself and ran away. Had he been 30 years younger, I would have belittled him to his face as I've done ~countless~ times...amusing myself and the people surrounding me. WHICH the old bastard deserved.
However...had that been one of my friends, I would have said, 'well, you can't blame him for trying'...so...there it is.
red, blue, swing states and headaches
I, like everyone else, have been following this damn election. In fact I'm listening to the results come in as I type this.
*sigh*
I, like everyone else...well, everyone ~I~ know, want Kerry to win. But, we're just gonna have to deal with what we get.
ha..."we"...I'm Canadian and I, like everyone else, know that whoever they pick will affect us, too. I heard a guy on the radio a few weeks ago actually wonder why the whole world feels the need to watch this election so closely. Ha!
But anyway...some thoughts:
Firstly, it must suck to be John Kerry and know that your biggest selling point to Americans and the rest of the world isn't who you are, but who you aren't.
Secondly....have we all been playing bit parts in this over-the-top action film for a very long time, or did it just start recently? We've got all the elements of a blockbuster hollywood film. Here:
- we've got the criminal mastermind who is unwaveringly evil and strikes when and where we least expect it. And he's ~just~ out of our grasp. He taunts us with audio and video tapes, in which he makes little personal "pokes" at our "brave and fearless leader". He's different than us. He wears different clothes and speaks in strange tongues. And... he lives in a cave. Cave = lair. He's for sure got all sorts of evil-doing equipment scattered all over the damn place behind some secret entrance. And, on top of that, he doesn't even worship the right god.
(aside: reading about Bin Laden's tape the other day, I started laughing when I reached the part where he chided W for sitting in that classroom for 7 minutes. I mean...of COURSE he's seen Fahrenheit 911.)
- we've got the "brave and fearless" leader. A bit reckless and cocky (all he needs is a police chief boss yelling that he's a loose cannon)
"You're a loose cannon, Bush! You're off the case!"
(and..as and added bonus, our hero is about as smart as the actors who have traditionally taken that role. But nowhere near as pretty.)
I suppose Kerry fills the role of you're-off-the-case guy. Which brings us to...
- we've got the struggle between the two forces of good about how to fight against the force of evil. I mean...check out the suspense we've gone through since the beginning of the campaign. Will he be allowed to stay on the case and catch the bad guy? Oh god! I hope the well-meaning but inaffective chief doesn't get his way.
- we've got the evil henchman who's laughs through his dying coughs.
"ha *cough cough* ha...I'm not the guy you want. Yes, I tried to kill your father, but I wasn't involved in Bin Laden's schemes. He's escaped your grasp once again. Ha *cough* ha ha uuugggghhhhhhhhhh"
('kay, he's not dead, but he was pretty sick when they found him)
- we've got a cast of thousands....and thousands dead.
all we need is a love interest and I'd SWEAR we're being watched in some intergalactic film festival.
*sigh*
I, like everyone else...well, everyone ~I~ know, want Kerry to win. But, we're just gonna have to deal with what we get.
ha..."we"...I'm Canadian and I, like everyone else, know that whoever they pick will affect us, too. I heard a guy on the radio a few weeks ago actually wonder why the whole world feels the need to watch this election so closely. Ha!
But anyway...some thoughts:
Firstly, it must suck to be John Kerry and know that your biggest selling point to Americans and the rest of the world isn't who you are, but who you aren't.
Secondly....have we all been playing bit parts in this over-the-top action film for a very long time, or did it just start recently? We've got all the elements of a blockbuster hollywood film. Here:
- we've got the criminal mastermind who is unwaveringly evil and strikes when and where we least expect it. And he's ~just~ out of our grasp. He taunts us with audio and video tapes, in which he makes little personal "pokes" at our "brave and fearless leader". He's different than us. He wears different clothes and speaks in strange tongues. And... he lives in a cave. Cave = lair. He's for sure got all sorts of evil-doing equipment scattered all over the damn place behind some secret entrance. And, on top of that, he doesn't even worship the right god.
(aside: reading about Bin Laden's tape the other day, I started laughing when I reached the part where he chided W for sitting in that classroom for 7 minutes. I mean...of COURSE he's seen Fahrenheit 911.)
- we've got the "brave and fearless" leader. A bit reckless and cocky (all he needs is a police chief boss yelling that he's a loose cannon)
"You're a loose cannon, Bush! You're off the case!"
(and..as and added bonus, our hero is about as smart as the actors who have traditionally taken that role. But nowhere near as pretty.)
I suppose Kerry fills the role of you're-off-the-case guy. Which brings us to...
- we've got the struggle between the two forces of good about how to fight against the force of evil. I mean...check out the suspense we've gone through since the beginning of the campaign. Will he be allowed to stay on the case and catch the bad guy? Oh god! I hope the well-meaning but inaffective chief doesn't get his way.
- we've got the evil henchman who's laughs through his dying coughs.
"ha *cough cough* ha...I'm not the guy you want. Yes, I tried to kill your father, but I wasn't involved in Bin Laden's schemes. He's escaped your grasp once again. Ha *cough* ha ha uuugggghhhhhhhhhh"
('kay, he's not dead, but he was pretty sick when they found him)
- we've got a cast of thousands....and thousands dead.
all we need is a love interest and I'd SWEAR we're being watched in some intergalactic film festival.
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