Sunday, March 30, 2003
I'll post probably on Tuesday night, when I'm all sad and lonely and I want to talk to the blog peeps.
Right now, I have to give the BF some lovin' before he ships out on April 1st. I still have a little bit of time to convince him to pick up a specialized N-95 surgical mask to wear for his overnight layover in Singapore.
Thursday, March 27, 2003
But I'll Bootleg for You
From aol search (HA & SNORT), here is probably my best ever referral:
Sorry to disappoint, sonny. Just the 18-and-overs get to pass through those saloon doors 'round back.
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Love Truly is...
When he calls you a firebrand when really most men would just say you're a fucking pain in the ass.
Will the real Tracy please speak up?
audblog audio post
Making Fun of Homeless=Quality Comedy
I was watching this fiftyish lady out my window as she rummaged through the rubbish. She had a tool with her which looked suspiciously like a rake to pick things up and out of the trash so she wouldn't have to do a full-on dumpster dive. At first I thought, oh the poor lady. And then I watched her meticulously pick through neatly-tied grocery-store bags salvaging clothes or frying pans, and then I think I saw her look through mine but there was nothing she wanted. Slighted!
Then I felt a little peeved, not only because my stuff was not good enough for her, but I thought maybe she goes through old Visa bills and bank machine chits and maybe she's engaging in a high-level identity theft operation.
And then I thought, not to worry, I would never wear purple pants with a red bomber jacket.
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
My dear province has no shortage of resilient people who keep taking a kick at the can of separatist movement.
I interviewed a man today attempting to launch Alberta's latest separation party. He's a good interview, but his efforts may need an extra oomph, namely, web presence.
I plugged in said politico and party name into Google, and no site came up with both those names. But I did find a nice long list of sites touting the same principles of liberty, separation, gun rights and a deep hatred for all things Eastern Canada.
This is the website I found.
So in order to give the marginal, right wing parties some unsolicited, but badly needed advice, here are my
TIPS FOR UPDATING YOUR CONSERVATIVE WEBSITE:
1. I hear CSS is HOT.
2. Pantone colours, people!
3. Animated gifs, while their flags flapping unfailingly in the "breeze" may instil some patriotic fervor, are NOT.
4. Knock it off with all the underlining.
5. Portraits of Ronald Regan are soooooooooooo two decades ago. Include pin-ups of Ann Coulter.
6. In forums, it's probably in your best interest to delete posts in which the sender refers to certain populations as "chinamen."
7. Expand merch to include microfibrous LIBERTY FLEECE.
8. Do not include comments feature.
9. More pictures of kicky little firearms small enough to fit into purse.
10. When you're bolding key messages, like Mr. Chretien, you dishonour every Candian, ensure proper spelling.
11. Sound effects can be great. Love the thunder claps with every page load. A storm is brewing, I get it! But you may want to mix it up a little. Try a creepy, squeaking door to build suspense, or a shrill scream to scare the pants off those bleeding heart liberals who may have wandered into the sight.
12. Include gunshot sound effects to really mean business.
13. Four words: Ayn Rand coffee mugs.
Monday, March 24, 2003
Just how long did you expect the chocolate easter bunny to last anyway? For the love of god, it sat there all alone overnight.
Kerry over at The Safeword has a crush on Adrien Brody. I totally know what she means. That tormented actor demeanor, and that kiss he planted on Halle Berry has put The Piano at the top of my must-see list.
Oh, that and Y Tu Mama Tambien, because I finally got a look at this Gael Garcia Bernal dude.
Um, someone might have given me a heads-up on that one, ladies.
The Contents of My Fridge or The Strange, Single Girl
vast array of Stirfry sauces
Live Typhoid Vaccine
Sunday, March 23, 2003
The Oscars You Know Will Win, Even Though You'll Be All Smarmy and Will Likely Throw Things at TV
Best Movie: Chicago (because of the campaign, the momentum)
Best Actress: Nicole Kidman, The Hours (because of the shnauz)
Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis, Gangs of New York (because he is an ACTOR)
Best Supporting Actress: Julianne Moore, The Hours (because she doesn't sleep)
Best Supporting Actor: Chris Cooper, Adaptation (toothlessness=disability; disability a shoo-in for Oscar)
Best Director: Martin Scorcese (payback for Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Goodfellas...the academy finally saw them now that they're out on DVD)
I have two bucks riding on this, with a potential payoff of seventy dollars in the office pool.
That, along with two other lotteries I'm currently involved in, means I've most certainly got some cash coming my way.
I'm not going to talk about war. I know both you and I are getting enough of it elsewhere.
I will talk about wine: I like it very much so, thanks. But I'd ask you, if you're going to pour me some, DO NOT expect me to hold the glass properly by its stem if you own glassware with bowls as big as my head, and you don't expect me to drop red wine all over your light-colored carpet. Look, if you had dark-colored carpet, maybe I'd take the risk and hold the glass in a more wine ed-u-meh-cated manner. And seeing as the glasses are as big as brandy snifters, there's no excuse for not filling up said glass to the brim. I don't care if it's got to breathe, I'd rather have it gasping for air so long as I had a full-up glass and didn't have to get off my ass for a refill. Call me the anti-oenophile. Just don't ask me to pronounce it.
Actually, I was kept in lots of free red wine last night at a birthday party for a 60-year old. Who knew I'd have so much fun? What's better than eating good food, having a constant glass of good wine in one hand, a wonderful man on the other arm, and meeting people with whom I could talk about some pretty important stuff? Somehow the war and the wine really got the conversations going.
I haven't been very good about keeping this site up to date lately. It's just fallen off the radar screen, as I've been spending time with my boyfriend, or planning for the trip. Or working out. I guess all of this practical stuff has kept me away from the computer. And the sun has started to shine, and the snow is melting... And I know in a short while I'll have to put up a message to you that I won't be updating too much, as I'll be heading overseas and cyber cafes won't be as high on the list as taking photos of rickshaw-wallahs, or riding a scooter in Vietnam, or dodging the touts and their scams to get me to part with my measly funds.
I told work I was leaving and surprisingly my boss took it well. He had all kinds of kind words to say to me about talent and ability and said he hadn't expected for me to stick around in this town long anyway. I think the stress of revealing my long-held secret of leaving my job has lifted some mental gravity. All is good. That, and the fact I've decided to ignore any travel advisories Health Canada decides to issue about this mysterious respiratory illness.
Hell, I have a sore throat right now. Could be the cigarettes.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Should I come clean yet?
I feel I'm leading this life of subterfuge. I can't leave my daytimer just laying around, I had to take my moving boxes out of my car lest someone at work see them, and now I had to promise to call someone at home when they reached me at work so colleagues wouldn't overhear.
I'm leaving work in a month and a half, but I was planning to give work a month's notice. That plan looks as though it'll have to change.
My boyfriend is heading overseas a month before me, and he works at the daily paper. I'll be joining him in May, we'll spend 3 months together then come back and move to another city. We're picking up the stakes in this town and never coming back. Well today, a colleague at another media outlet calls me asking about my boyfriend taking off and what's up with that? So obviously, word is out there and I just don't have the heart to come up with some elaborate story before I give my notice and can then come clean.
I guess there's no difference between giving notice now and giving it in a couple of weeks; I had just wanted to minimize that time where people will ask the endless questions and think me some kind of traitor. I also don't want to jeopardize my job as this last month is crucial to my savings.
Hell, my workmates probably know already, for all I know. I remember how I was trying to meet up with a cop to get him to sign my passport application. He relayed a message to a girl I work with saying he couldn't make our appointment. She must have wondered what the hell I was doing with this cop outside of work. I think I was prepared to let her raise her eyebrows rather than have my cover blown.
i have no fucking idea why my links cannot be updated i'm so sick and tired of blogger
Monday, March 17, 2003
I've been carrying around this list in my back jeans pocket.
I'm keeping track of the things that can get me when I take off on my trip of India, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos:
1. Mystery Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome
4. Japanese B Encephalitis
5. Muslim Extremists
6. Lariam-induced Rage
7. Dengue Fever
I won't go into how I once simply worried about finances or being bitten by a rabies-infected monkey or being homeless when I get back, but I now long for those carefree, heady days.
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
i'm hungry but I've eaten a free big mac with a diet coke, so no more for me. i should go to the gym but I'm tired, I should also go to a meeting that might have protestors but jeez, I've already put in a full day and I'm tired didn't I say already and I worked last Friday night and went in on Sunday and Monday night and man, can't I just have some down-time. And there isn't much to do in the way of down-time but I think Gilmore Girls is on and I almost wrote Golden Girls hee, and today was a bit hard because I had to go to a press conference knowing that what I reported on the guy was wrong because A SOURCE FUCKED ME OVER and it didn't turn out too bad because it's only politics and sometimes speculation just works out that way. You gamble, you take the risk of getting cleaned out. But yesterday I was so pissed about it I couldn't sleep knowing my competitor would gloat and I'd have to tell him at least I took the chance while he didn't get off his ass and even try to get the story.
and to cheer me up, Cam spared me getting out the snow-brush and braving the ice, and came to my apartment even while he was working and brought me a huge chocolate bar because he is so sweet and I love the sweet stuff.
Look, I was going to just say I didn't feel like posting anything. It was just more that I didn't feel like being disciplined.
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
I just brushed off a foot of snow on my car to get my ass to the gym. I deserve a medal.
And for breakfast I ate the world's most perfect, sweet and seedless grapefruit. The day is looking good.
Now if I can just get my template to update, all is well. Just as I get Haloscan under control, Blogger decides to stage a coup.
Monday, March 10, 2003
Yesterday, on a Sunday, when all you really should be doing is eating bacon sandwiches and swearing to never drink again, I went to the gym, and I bowled for Big Brothers and Sisters. I did it for the kids. I also got the scoop on a good story and went in on my day off.
Today I went to my doctor's for THE ANNUAL. And this is what I faced:
1. I went to two different clinics first before I found the right one.
2. One of those fucking scales that tried to suggest to me I haven't lost 15 pounds, it's more like ten, sucker.
3. A doctor who said "So how did that face cream work? Well, you could have laser surgery to blast those broken blood vessels, but it's not cheap."
4. A waiting room full of coughing people and hyper children, sound-making toys.
5. A doctor who asked me "How old are you now?" and shortly after I said 31, asked "Bladder control good?"
People, I've broken my coffee pot.
Let panic ensue.
I just found a great tidbit of info that will help me decide what to pack for my Asia trip: when you're let off on the side of a road for a bathroom break on a long-haul bus trip, a long skirt provides a little privacy while peeing.
Great. I've got the wide-brimmed hat and the long, flowing skirt. It's all Stevie Nicks, baby.
Saturday, March 08, 2003
A family takes to the stage as the "entertainment" at a political fundraiser and warbles out a tune. Sarcastic reporters are nearby.
Him: Are those clothes handmade?
Me: I think so. Is the young one a boy or girl?
Him: I think they're members of a cult.
Me: Yeah, the cult of fat, crappy singers.
How the conversation should have gone:
Me: I'd like a medium pepperoni, please.
Them: That will be $11.27. It'll be there in--
Me: Wait! Don't you have that $4.99 pizza anymore?
Them: uh, no.
Me: But I got this flyer just like two days ago. Customer appreciation days?
Them: no, sorry ma'am.
Me: So you don't actually appreciate your customers anymore?
Me: Right-o. Do you take Visa?
Friday, March 07, 2003
I've become one of those women.
There have been three episodes in as many days of me throwing a little hissy-fit in the face of inconvenience.
1. I go to Tim Horton's. For my American friends think Dunkin' Donuts. You go there to get a doughnut and a coffee. So imagine my surprise when after waiting in line for about 5-10 minutes, I was told they were out of coffee. "I just put on a pot, so you'll have to wait a couple of minutes, but it'll be fresh," says the clerk. This had just added insult to injury after I tried to beat the drive-through line by going inside and my gamble didn't pay off. The BF, knowing me so well, just drove me to another outlet down the street because I had to take my business elsewhere, on principle. Of course all of that took longer than just staying and waiting for the damned java at the first place.
2. At a fish and chips place, I ordered a 2-piece halibut and fries. I had seen a price of $7.50, but just a couple of minutes after I ordered, I read farther down the menu and realized the halibut would cost me an extra $3 dollars. I asked if I could change my order and they wouldn't let me, saying "oh, the fish is already in the deepfryer."
Look, I know I made a mistake, but certainly couldn't they sell that fish to someone else? I paid for the stuff but not before passing on my complaint to one of the staffers. I should have run out of the store when I had the chance.
3. At Safeway, I pick up a carton of milk and a couple of bananas. I don't shop at Safeway, I just pick up a couple of stray items once in awhile. I stood at the front of the store for all of 3 minutes when I realized they were not going to open an Express check out, nor were they going to deal with these huge lineups. I put down my perishables on a CD display and took off in a huff.
If I were still working in the record store, I'd be one of those people I'd have hated.
It's less than two months now that I'm heading to India, and one of the priorities on my to-do list is Ride an Elephant.
So I got really excited last night lying in bed thinking about that elephant: how wrinkly he'll be, and think of that big watery, wise eye, and how big it will be and how lumbering. And don't even get me started on that trunk! Ba-whwoahlllllleellllee!
And I thought about the only thing cuter than a big grey elephant is imagining a sweet elephant with a monkey riding it!
Oh I giggled myself silly until I wept.
And I haven't even started on my anti-malarial meds yet.
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
The Lobby Group is in the Works
I drive up to the big box, it's cold, I'm looking for a spot somewhere in the vicinity of the store, pull into one stall--HANDICAPPED. Try another spot that looks empty--RESERVED FOR PARENTS WITH TOTS. And next to that--Reserved for Expectant Mothers.
Surely the amount of stalls are disproportionate to those populations. I AM A CONSUMER, DAMMIT, and I'm lazy and freezing.
Who is looking out for my interests?
I hate that cheese is bad for me; I'm tired of the freaking snow; I don't appreciate when I go to plug in the car and it's encased in ice; I don't go to Safeway for the prices, Mister, so open the damned express check-out already; what the FUCK is up with Blogger; lay off the perfume while you're working out, okay, even though I know my shirt smells a little onion-y, sorry; my apartment shouldn't smell like smoke when I'm currently "enjoying" non-smoking status; jesus, why is there no wine in the house; doesn't March herald spring?
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
I just bought a huge sunhat on the same day Cam made a snowman on the hood of his car.
The hat makes me look more Catherine Hepburn than Audrey, but I can add ponytails, so not all is lost. It's rather cool, and so was the 'man.
We saw Far from Heaven on the weekend. It was a rare treat: a good movie, in a theatre with no distractions. The previews got underway and something went very wrong with the picture: it developed this big black bar, so I ran out to tell the pimply-faced professional projectionist staff (read: concession clerks). I leaned over the railing and shouted downstairs, "Is someone going to do something to fix the projector?" And instead of being shaken to instant action, one of them yelled back to me, "What's wrong with it?" Well, jeez, buddy, if I knew, I'd have fixed it already.
Anyhoo, they did fix it, but not before I entirely missed the preview for the latest John Cusak movie. I should have demanded my cash back right there and then.
So the movie starts and I'm drawn into this highly color-saturated, controlled world of 50s-era facades. And when I get to the emotional climax of the film, all goes dark. You can still hear the audio, but not a frame is to be seen. Well, the audience is looking around and some are tittering and I am just speechless, I was really into this, and now, like a water-birth baby first wrenched from the womb, I'm now yanked, kicking and screaming, into an Alberta winter.
Someone else summoned the professional projectionist staff this time, and the teenager walked into the theatre, cleared his throat, and told us, "Well, the projector bulb has burned out. And it takes a long time to replace........So we'll be offering you free passes on your way out. Sorry."
And many guffaw, and some boo, and I am still speechless, which doesn't change when someone from the audience asks the teen, "How does it end?"
Like I want this guy to sum up the movie, like I'm going to leave it in his hands to give me the synopsis and analysis.
"er, I actually haven't seen it."
A collective moan goes up and we all file out.
All that movie foreplay and no climax should make a crowd ornery. You know if it had been Old School or something, and the audience was cut short before it got to see the final scenes of toga-ing, goat-riding and kegging hijinx, there would've been mass riots.
Monday, March 03, 2003
We had just played once before as a band
The four of us, with me on rhythm guitar. Then, it was completely ad-hoc: it was amateur nite, we liked the idea of playing a few songs we liked and there was a prize: beer. So we had practiced once before and we'd done that first show. So tonight it was just a matter of shit, let's do this again.
But when I brought it up to him, Scott showed some reservations; he wasn't full-on yeah let's fucking rock n roll!
I could tell from the look on his face that his friends had seen us last time and said what was up with that chick on guitar?
Don't you know when you sing in a choir, your voice sounds beautiful? You're standing there on the altar and la-la-la'ing with others in their Sunday finest and Jesus is in a forgivin mood because you sound damn fine. Well I thought the same happened in a band--and well, it sort of does, but only to yourself, and only when you don't have monitors.
So when I saw Scott's face, the kind that leaks into your skin when you struggle with being the nice guy and the one who feels obligated to point out what could hurt but for your own good, I said to him, "I'm pretty good at tambourine, you know."
And his eyes brightened and he said really. This look of relief flooded his face and he said yeah, you could hang out and play the tamborine and harmonize.
So I tried not to let the hang out comment get to me. I let it slide off me that I wasn't really an integral part of this band, like I was anyone but Gwen Stefani in No Doubt. I thought I was kind of the cool hard-rocking party chick character who the audience would shift its gaze to when the lead singer wasn't up to his old antics.
But I just said sure.
So I pulled on my brown cords and I chose my red t-shirt with the radioative decal on it, and tested the tamborine against my leg.
I took to the stage.
I remember later that night running into my best friend from grade nine and maybe the boy I married at recess in grade six.
But that's the way dreams usually go.
I wonder if we rocked out.