Wednesday, April 30, 2003
Freakshow & Tell
I brought my cat and her kittens into school for Show & Tell one day.
I never had anything cool to say or do for Show & Tell.
An optimist even at seven or eight years old, I thought it was a great idea.
Until I brought that box of cats to school.
My teacher just about upped and had kittens herself.
She was a little bit...prudish.
Crabtree: "What do you mean you didn't ask your Mother for permission?"
FreakGirl: "She wasn't home."
I made an impact.
Even if it was only because I was a little weirdo.
I brought my cat and her kittens into school for Show & Tell one day.
I never had anything cool to say or do for Show & Tell.
An optimist even at seven or eight years old, I thought it was a great idea.
Until I brought that box of cats to school.
My teacher just about upped and had kittens herself.
She was a little bit...prudish.
Crabtree: "What do you mean you didn't ask your Mother for permission?"
FreakGirl: "She wasn't home."
I made an impact.
Even if it was only because I was a little weirdo.
Nine or Ten
There was the birthday that I can't really remember much of.
I was in Grade Four or Five.
I had ten kids over for my birthday party.
Three boys (Greg, Danny and Joel?) in my class pooled their gift resources together and bought me
Dark Side of the Moon with a matching baseball cap (which my brother promptly stole from me).
I wouldn't have worn the hat, but I thought it was really cool.
I used to play "Sweep and Scrub" with the boys at lunchtime
(they finally 'allowed' me to play with them after months of campaigning - feminist at a young age).
I was completely touched.
Dark side of the Moon. Wow.
The album I owned previous was The Muppet Movie.
My first.
"And some day we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers
The dreamers
and me...."
There was the birthday that I can't really remember much of.
I was in Grade Four or Five.
I had ten kids over for my birthday party.
Three boys (Greg, Danny and Joel?) in my class pooled their gift resources together and bought me
Dark Side of the Moon with a matching baseball cap (which my brother promptly stole from me).
I wouldn't have worn the hat, but I thought it was really cool.
I used to play "Sweep and Scrub" with the boys at lunchtime
(they finally 'allowed' me to play with them after months of campaigning - feminist at a young age).
I was completely touched.
Dark side of the Moon. Wow.
The album I owned previous was The Muppet Movie.
My first.
"And some day we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers
The dreamers
and me...."
I am a woman. Yes.
(maybe not a Proper Woman, but a woman nonetheless)
I had never comfortably travelled in a gaggle of girls.
After the age of 17 or 18, I stopped hanging out in female clusters completely.
I have never enjoyed clothing shopping
or talking about many girlie topics.
I tried it and was unhappy and bored.
This made me wonder what was wrong with me.
I never got used to the idea of maintenance.
My best friend and I pretty much ruined each other for anyone else.
Other girls seemed to be way too much work to hang out with.
After many, many years of not hanging out with chicks
I proudly and publicly state that I now hang out with girls.
Often.
And it's fun.
And I've been shopping.
With girls.
And it's fun.
And that doesn't make me vacuous.
It doesn't make me needy or turn me into a harpy.
It's a riot.
(maybe not a Proper Woman, but a woman nonetheless)
I had never comfortably travelled in a gaggle of girls.
After the age of 17 or 18, I stopped hanging out in female clusters completely.
I have never enjoyed clothing shopping
or talking about many girlie topics.
I tried it and was unhappy and bored.
This made me wonder what was wrong with me.
I never got used to the idea of maintenance.
My best friend and I pretty much ruined each other for anyone else.
Other girls seemed to be way too much work to hang out with.
After many, many years of not hanging out with chicks
I proudly and publicly state that I now hang out with girls.
Often.
And it's fun.
And I've been shopping.
With girls.
And it's fun.
And that doesn't make me vacuous.
It doesn't make me needy or turn me into a harpy.
It's a riot.
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
It could be true that I am....
Mean lil fellow, arn't you?
What Monty Python Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Turnin' Thirty
Since I'm on countdwon to my 33rd this week, I'm on the theme of telling y'all about a few birthdays I've had. You know, as a lead-in to this weekend's craziness.
THIRTY
My most cool and wonderful girlfriend (Heather McVag) took me out to see an Alejandro Escovedo show at a fairly intimate venue. She knew a few of the folks in the band.
We got fairly juiced pre-show at the bar. I remember the bartender distictly. We argued over the spelling of the word "Svelte" Which he thought contained a "W." I wrote "Svelte" in the bartop in lipstick when his back was turned. He argued with me over why I'd put a five pointed star tattoo on my arm and not a six pointed star. Hi, it's MY tattoo. I called him Holden Caufield. That got him. Then my friend said, "Put your leg on the bar to prove your point." I did. Like a trained monkey. The girls howled with laughter. The bartender blinked at me. I realized that I was pissed. This did not stop me making fun of him. I remember some nice gentlemen buying me a drink because they thought us girls were all pretty funny.
When the band came on I felt a little disturbed as I eyed the crowd on the way to the stage. Pretty tame, very not intoxicated at all. No one was there to tear it up. I tried to eek out a foot-tapper in the bunch. I knew I was too spastic in general and drunk on top of it all to dealwith such a mellow crowd.
The band really rocked. Being in from Austin and not generally known in Canada, the crowd at this venue (Ted's Wrecking Yard) consisted of a small amount of intense Fans. These guys are fantastic musicians, Alejandro is a what I like to call a real musician. Not so much because I'm a music snob. I just don't think that anybody could do what he does. Respect. The guy has done a lot over his musical career. So much that I really wish I hadn't been so drunk. No, I almost wish that. Because I had a blast.
The fans seemed too entranced by the music (seeimng too uptight, anal, repressed or cool) to even move. You can imagine the horror, disgust and dismay all over the faces of those sagely listening in the audience as the band played me Happy Birthday in a twangy rockin country way. Spicy. The loud girl is having herself a star moment. Yes, the one you thought Shouldn't Even Be Here Because She's Having Too Much Fun is getting SUNG TO by the fucking band. The wonderful thing is that I was too drunk to care who scowled at someone having a damn good time. I don't have to be drunk for that anymore.
During the Birthday song, my hammered friend and I were telling each other how much we loved each other whilst we attempted to put our legs over each others shoulders, laughing hysterically in each others ears. We were in sarongs, which caused an Underwear Scandal (ah, my days of skinny). The band were busting up something awful, but managed to get through the tune. More glares from the True Fans. We drunkenly stumbled on a few people, I'm sure. We were profusely apologetic, but obviously beyond redemption.
Afterward I went to The Matador with some of the band. The Matador is the best late night club in Toronto. Just by virtue of the name alone. Live music til five. The Matador is a landmark. I settled into the scene, hanging with the boys, people watching, dancing a little.
Informed that a table of men wanted to speak to me, I innocently approached the table smiling. It was full of stockbroker types. One man spoke nicely to me, "We heard it was your birthday, have these flowers." They had all been at a wedding rehearsal and were taking the groom out for a party. That was sweet, awww. I said "Thank you" and turned around. Then one of tne of the 'men' at the table made a very shitty comment. I turned. I smiled. I bit my teeth into the lush bouquet of white roses. I spat a gazillion petals at that mook's face then smiled sweetly. Fuck you. I took another bite and spewed some more bloom. I turned and walked away very slowly. The boys were cheering. I spent a good part of the rest of my time at the Matador meeting nice folks and having a generally fantastic time. One band member was particularly patient as I tried to read his palm over and over again. I don't know how to read palms.
I hooked a ride back to the band's hotel and then realized that I was a drunk woman in the band's room at a hotel.
Led Zeppelin, red snapper. No, these were very tame, decent and good guys.
As I prepared to leave someone asked me for a tampon.
What? A man asks you for a tampon that you know isn't for his girlfriend, you get to wonder. I was like...what?
"No man, you can use the wrapper as rolling paper."
I handed him my rolling papers and split.
I laugh out loud over that night at times.
That was my best Birthday so far.
Since I'm on countdwon to my 33rd this week, I'm on the theme of telling y'all about a few birthdays I've had. You know, as a lead-in to this weekend's craziness.
THIRTY
My most cool and wonderful girlfriend (Heather McVag) took me out to see an Alejandro Escovedo show at a fairly intimate venue. She knew a few of the folks in the band.
We got fairly juiced pre-show at the bar. I remember the bartender distictly. We argued over the spelling of the word "Svelte" Which he thought contained a "W." I wrote "Svelte" in the bartop in lipstick when his back was turned. He argued with me over why I'd put a five pointed star tattoo on my arm and not a six pointed star. Hi, it's MY tattoo. I called him Holden Caufield. That got him. Then my friend said, "Put your leg on the bar to prove your point." I did. Like a trained monkey. The girls howled with laughter. The bartender blinked at me. I realized that I was pissed. This did not stop me making fun of him. I remember some nice gentlemen buying me a drink because they thought us girls were all pretty funny.
When the band came on I felt a little disturbed as I eyed the crowd on the way to the stage. Pretty tame, very not intoxicated at all. No one was there to tear it up. I tried to eek out a foot-tapper in the bunch. I knew I was too spastic in general and drunk on top of it all to dealwith such a mellow crowd.
The band really rocked. Being in from Austin and not generally known in Canada, the crowd at this venue (Ted's Wrecking Yard) consisted of a small amount of intense Fans. These guys are fantastic musicians, Alejandro is a what I like to call a real musician. Not so much because I'm a music snob. I just don't think that anybody could do what he does. Respect. The guy has done a lot over his musical career. So much that I really wish I hadn't been so drunk. No, I almost wish that. Because I had a blast.
The fans seemed too entranced by the music (seeimng too uptight, anal, repressed or cool) to even move. You can imagine the horror, disgust and dismay all over the faces of those sagely listening in the audience as the band played me Happy Birthday in a twangy rockin country way. Spicy. The loud girl is having herself a star moment. Yes, the one you thought Shouldn't Even Be Here Because She's Having Too Much Fun is getting SUNG TO by the fucking band. The wonderful thing is that I was too drunk to care who scowled at someone having a damn good time. I don't have to be drunk for that anymore.
During the Birthday song, my hammered friend and I were telling each other how much we loved each other whilst we attempted to put our legs over each others shoulders, laughing hysterically in each others ears. We were in sarongs, which caused an Underwear Scandal (ah, my days of skinny). The band were busting up something awful, but managed to get through the tune. More glares from the True Fans. We drunkenly stumbled on a few people, I'm sure. We were profusely apologetic, but obviously beyond redemption.
Afterward I went to The Matador with some of the band. The Matador is the best late night club in Toronto. Just by virtue of the name alone. Live music til five. The Matador is a landmark. I settled into the scene, hanging with the boys, people watching, dancing a little.
Informed that a table of men wanted to speak to me, I innocently approached the table smiling. It was full of stockbroker types. One man spoke nicely to me, "We heard it was your birthday, have these flowers." They had all been at a wedding rehearsal and were taking the groom out for a party. That was sweet, awww. I said "Thank you" and turned around. Then one of tne of the 'men' at the table made a very shitty comment. I turned. I smiled. I bit my teeth into the lush bouquet of white roses. I spat a gazillion petals at that mook's face then smiled sweetly. Fuck you. I took another bite and spewed some more bloom. I turned and walked away very slowly. The boys were cheering. I spent a good part of the rest of my time at the Matador meeting nice folks and having a generally fantastic time. One band member was particularly patient as I tried to read his palm over and over again. I don't know how to read palms.
I hooked a ride back to the band's hotel and then realized that I was a drunk woman in the band's room at a hotel.
Led Zeppelin, red snapper. No, these were very tame, decent and good guys.
As I prepared to leave someone asked me for a tampon.
What? A man asks you for a tampon that you know isn't for his girlfriend, you get to wonder. I was like...what?
"No man, you can use the wrapper as rolling paper."
I handed him my rolling papers and split.
I laugh out loud over that night at times.
That was my best Birthday so far.
Monday, April 28, 2003
I done did my psycho magnet day
Saturday night's dancing was started at El Convento Rico. We ended up leaving early. The Drag Show was fabulous. The surprisingly short, wasted, lovely and portly Latino girls in a group behind us were funny and cute, though they kept banging into us in their wasted girliness. Everything was cool until men started to swarm us like some weird dog pack. Not wolves. They were too rag tag sketchy and yellow to be wolfish truly. More like dingoes or hyena. I felt that they were waiting for one of our number to fall injured so they could dive in. They were creepy. Unsettling. They stood around us forming a wall. Where were all the totally fun gay men we usually get to dance with? Damn. Luckily I have some height. This usually throws the unbalanced dudes off. Not this night. Every time I looked up, someone was leering.
If I want to be manhandled by someone's sweaty stench, I'll stay at home, thanks. (Cheers to Paco)
If I want to be hunted down like prey, I'll play paintball.
If I wanted to pick up I'd actually make eye contact that didn't say "could ya fuck off?"
You'd think that moving on to Velvet would make a huge difference. No. It was weirdo night there too. Most of these dudes looked kinda different from the ones at the last club, so we knew we had not been followed. Same dingo-hyena type doggie men, different venue. This is something I have rarely experienced, certainly never at Velvet. Maybe I live in a bubble of oblivion that protects me from noticing this stuff? Nope. I have considered myself fortunate to usually be in the presence of very cool folks, even if they're 'strangers' to me, I am usually surrounded by a good vibe.
Something was up.
I have learned that sometimes ones function is to be a magnet which draws all kinds of weird toward your good nature.
I figure that this happens sometimes so that you appreciate non-psycho behaviour when you experience it.
Saturday night's dancing was started at El Convento Rico. We ended up leaving early. The Drag Show was fabulous. The surprisingly short, wasted, lovely and portly Latino girls in a group behind us were funny and cute, though they kept banging into us in their wasted girliness. Everything was cool until men started to swarm us like some weird dog pack. Not wolves. They were too rag tag sketchy and yellow to be wolfish truly. More like dingoes or hyena. I felt that they were waiting for one of our number to fall injured so they could dive in. They were creepy. Unsettling. They stood around us forming a wall. Where were all the totally fun gay men we usually get to dance with? Damn. Luckily I have some height. This usually throws the unbalanced dudes off. Not this night. Every time I looked up, someone was leering.
If I want to be manhandled by someone's sweaty stench, I'll stay at home, thanks. (Cheers to Paco)
If I want to be hunted down like prey, I'll play paintball.
If I wanted to pick up I'd actually make eye contact that didn't say "could ya fuck off?"
You'd think that moving on to Velvet would make a huge difference. No. It was weirdo night there too. Most of these dudes looked kinda different from the ones at the last club, so we knew we had not been followed. Same dingo-hyena type doggie men, different venue. This is something I have rarely experienced, certainly never at Velvet. Maybe I live in a bubble of oblivion that protects me from noticing this stuff? Nope. I have considered myself fortunate to usually be in the presence of very cool folks, even if they're 'strangers' to me, I am usually surrounded by a good vibe.
Something was up.
I have learned that sometimes ones function is to be a magnet which draws all kinds of weird toward your good nature.
I figure that this happens sometimes so that you appreciate non-psycho behaviour when you experience it.
Commitment
Most of my friends know that I have commitment issues.
I am now ready to commit some time and patience to
the appearance of my "blog," or non-blog,
or whatever it is.
Don't let the retro look fool ya.
One day, I may even provide ...links.
Look out.
I'm gettin some code...stuff.
Most of my friends know that I have commitment issues.
I am now ready to commit some time and patience to
the appearance of my "blog," or non-blog,
or whatever it is.
Don't let the retro look fool ya.
One day, I may even provide ...links.
Look out.
I'm gettin some code...stuff.
Sunday, April 27, 2003
Drinkin Tea
I partied thoroughly all weekend.
I sound like Kim Carnes.
" She's got Marty Feldman eyes...."
I partied thoroughly all weekend.
I sound like Kim Carnes.
" She's got Marty Feldman eyes...."
Friday, April 25, 2003
INCARNATION
IN = in
CARN = flesh
AT = at
ION = a charged subatomic particle
Have you ever thought of it that way?
Makes me feel like some alien is calling me an ugly bag of electric meat, instead of a ugly bag of mostly water.
IN = in
CARN = flesh
AT = at
ION = a charged subatomic particle
Have you ever thought of it that way?
Makes me feel like some alien is calling me an ugly bag of electric meat, instead of a ugly bag of mostly water.
THE MATERIAL GIRL
is not a Marxist freedom fighting political revolutionary
Why does Madonna think it's ok to pose as Che Guevara?
Not because she played at being Evita with Antonio Banderas in tow playing Che ( as an aside - check out Antonio in Pedro Aldomovar's older films, verrrry fun).
Is it because she has done so much for fashion?
It's just no good. You've really got to do a little bit more than flash your boobies and then say you're a feminist and do some downward dogs, you know? The woman has been influential, there's no doubt. She's revolutionized her fashion, she's revolutionized...what? Her popularity has for sure helped female musicians get recognition. Right on. Yet, if she wants to be a Che type figure, perhaps she should do more for (ahem, ahem) "The People" than merely selling them records and helping them buy into the bullshit media.
What frightened me most was that many of the people I bitched to about Madonna posing as Che on the cover of her new album looked blankly at me, not knowing who Che Guevara was.
To qoute Jean-Paul Sartre,"Che was the most complete human being of our age."
is not a Marxist freedom fighting political revolutionary
Why does Madonna think it's ok to pose as Che Guevara?
Not because she played at being Evita with Antonio Banderas in tow playing Che ( as an aside - check out Antonio in Pedro Aldomovar's older films, verrrry fun).
Is it because she has done so much for fashion?
It's just no good. You've really got to do a little bit more than flash your boobies and then say you're a feminist and do some downward dogs, you know? The woman has been influential, there's no doubt. She's revolutionized her fashion, she's revolutionized...what? Her popularity has for sure helped female musicians get recognition. Right on. Yet, if she wants to be a Che type figure, perhaps she should do more for (ahem, ahem) "The People" than merely selling them records and helping them buy into the bullshit media.
What frightened me most was that many of the people I bitched to about Madonna posing as Che on the cover of her new album looked blankly at me, not knowing who Che Guevara was.
To qoute Jean-Paul Sartre,"Che was the most complete human being of our age."
Canadian Content
ACTRA Toronto (the actor's union) sent a press release with the info below yesterday afternoon.
John Manley is responsible for cutting 25 million dollars from the Canadian Television Fund (CTF). He is the Finance Minister, and is running for the position of Prime Minister of Canada.
ACTRA Toronto is organizing a rally to protest this and damaging CRTC regulations which have caused the loss of most of our Canadian television dramas.
John Manley will be speaking at a fundriaser at Toronto's Old Mill Restaurant Monday April 28th at 5:30 pm. Folks are invited to meet and protest at the same place and same time.
Paul Gross (who is quite an active member of our society, I'm going to have to start callig him Sir Paul Gross) spoke the recents cuts to the CTF at a press conference in April.
" This issues strikes at the very heart of what it means to be a nation. And I find it inconcievable that this government, with its long history of supporting the arts, is willing to abandon that now. Is this really the legacy that Shiela Copps wants to leave at Heritage? Is this honestly the kind of country that John Manley seeks to govern? And perhaps most importantly, is the destruction of the cultural fabric something that Jean Chretien would like to have as a counterpiece to his legacy?"
ACTRA Toronto (the actor's union) sent a press release with the info below yesterday afternoon.
John Manley is responsible for cutting 25 million dollars from the Canadian Television Fund (CTF). He is the Finance Minister, and is running for the position of Prime Minister of Canada.
ACTRA Toronto is organizing a rally to protest this and damaging CRTC regulations which have caused the loss of most of our Canadian television dramas.
John Manley will be speaking at a fundriaser at Toronto's Old Mill Restaurant Monday April 28th at 5:30 pm. Folks are invited to meet and protest at the same place and same time.
Paul Gross (who is quite an active member of our society, I'm going to have to start callig him Sir Paul Gross) spoke the recents cuts to the CTF at a press conference in April.
" This issues strikes at the very heart of what it means to be a nation. And I find it inconcievable that this government, with its long history of supporting the arts, is willing to abandon that now. Is this really the legacy that Shiela Copps wants to leave at Heritage? Is this honestly the kind of country that John Manley seeks to govern? And perhaps most importantly, is the destruction of the cultural fabric something that Jean Chretien would like to have as a counterpiece to his legacy?"
De-Solid
My boyfriend is going on a gaming weekend with the boys.
Geeking out for the Whole Weekend.
My guy's character can go de-solid.
Just, you know, go not solid at all.
This is where you'd think I'd crack a joke.
My Sorceror just hit 13th level and can leleport.
I have no business giving anyone the business
for gaming. or geeking.
or thinking it's really cool to go De-Solid.
My boyfriend is going on a gaming weekend with the boys.
Geeking out for the Whole Weekend.
My guy's character can go de-solid.
Just, you know, go not solid at all.
This is where you'd think I'd crack a joke.
My Sorceror just hit 13th level and can leleport.
I have no business giving anyone the business
for gaming. or geeking.
or thinking it's really cool to go De-Solid.
Thursday, April 24, 2003
va·gi·na
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural va·gi·nae /-(")nE/; or -nas
Etymology: Latin, literally, sheath
Date: 1682
1 : a canal in a female mammal that leads from the uterus to the external orifice of the genital canal
2 : a canal that is similar in function or location to the vagina and occurs in various animals other than mammals
Merriam Webster Online
Vanilla comes from the Latin word vagina, meaning sheath or pod.
It's thought that it was named either because some early botanist looked at a vanilla pod
and it reminded him of a vagina, or because it was thought to be an aphrodisiac.
That's pretty funny. Even though the botanist is assumed to be a male....
Don't wonder why I call my 'vagina' a suni instead.
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural va·gi·nae /-(")nE/; or -nas
Etymology: Latin, literally, sheath
Date: 1682
1 : a canal in a female mammal that leads from the uterus to the external orifice of the genital canal
2 : a canal that is similar in function or location to the vagina and occurs in various animals other than mammals
Merriam Webster Online
Vanilla comes from the Latin word vagina, meaning sheath or pod.
It's thought that it was named either because some early botanist looked at a vanilla pod
and it reminded him of a vagina, or because it was thought to be an aphrodisiac.
That's pretty funny. Even though the botanist is assumed to be a male....
Don't wonder why I call my 'vagina' a suni instead.
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
Groucho Marx Moment
I've been listed on the Greater Toronto Bloggers website...
The website is a great idea, Toronto Bloggers Unite!
Slowly the Freak seeps and creeps into the blogging community...
Yet, at first I thought of the famous quote from the letter Groucho Marx wrote to the Hollywood Friars Club.
"Please accept my resignation. I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member."
I then realized I've done this with every club, clique or likewise for most of my life.
I have never liked being on a team.
I stopped playing sports more from team phobia than from all the sex, drugs and rock n' roll.
But now I'm part of the GTA Bloggers.
I can do it. I can participate in group activity. I really can...
I've been listed on the Greater Toronto Bloggers website...
The website is a great idea, Toronto Bloggers Unite!
Slowly the Freak seeps and creeps into the blogging community...
Yet, at first I thought of the famous quote from the letter Groucho Marx wrote to the Hollywood Friars Club.
"Please accept my resignation. I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member."
I then realized I've done this with every club, clique or likewise for most of my life.
I have never liked being on a team.
I stopped playing sports more from team phobia than from all the sex, drugs and rock n' roll.
But now I'm part of the GTA Bloggers.
I can do it. I can participate in group activity. I really can...
The Accordion Guy - Grifted By Unkind Wench
There's a dude who has a blog - The Adventures Of Accordion Guy in the 21st Century.
I've seen him around town. At Velvet.
He's the guy with the accordion strapped to his back.
I've peeked at his rather fun blog out a few times and he seems like a super fella.
Very festive. And....nice, dammit!
I just read this story about how he was dating an imposter.
It really hit home.
There's no shortage of folk who will take advantage of the good nature of others.
Sociopaths. Psychopaths. Or just plain old jackasses.
Some people just don't get it.
There's a dude who has a blog - The Adventures Of Accordion Guy in the 21st Century.
I've seen him around town. At Velvet.
He's the guy with the accordion strapped to his back.
I've peeked at his rather fun blog out a few times and he seems like a super fella.
Very festive. And....nice, dammit!
I just read this story about how he was dating an imposter.
It really hit home.
There's no shortage of folk who will take advantage of the good nature of others.
Sociopaths. Psychopaths. Or just plain old jackasses.
Some people just don't get it.
Throw Out Your Television
Go Have Sex or Something
Go for a walk, Write a friend,
Make a nice meal, Listen to some music,
Do some thinknig....Eat a peach
Hang out and be Groovy.....
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
JESUS CHRIST!
The Leafs are getting their Feathers Dusted.
My yearly amount of TV watching is now officially done with.
The Leafs are getting their Feathers Dusted.
My yearly amount of TV watching is now officially done with.
THIRTY THREE
My Jesus Year is nearly upon me.
Most people who hear me talk about the Jesus year just think I'm cracking fun at how Jesus was crucified at 33.
Not so. Really. It was a very important year for Jesus. He did a lot of stuff.
He died and was reborn, symbolizing a change of consciousness.
On the Third of May I enter the sanctum of that sacred and holy time of transformation.
"The crystallization of a new consciousness" as Carlos Santana would say.
What with Easter and 33 being so close together for me, I ask tolerance from all of you regarding the frightening amount of times I've spoken about Jesus this last week.
I'm not a Jesus freak, out in the street, handing tickets out for God.
To celebrate my Jesus Year I wanted to have a Last Supper Party.
Unfortunately, our house really isn't conducive to such a long table.
I was pretty gumped about it for awhile, my boyfriend talked me down.
I realized that perhaps I'd gone too far when I wanted to sell raffle tickets for the door prize.
Whoever won would receive the raffle money and also got to be Judas for the night.
I am now settling for breaking the martini sales record at groovy little bar downtown.
Yes, it's a heavy cross to bear.
Ok, so maybe my Jesus Year is really about getting pissed and pretending 33 isn't getting a tad bit too old for me to be wearing my hair in braids and pigtails waxing profound against yuppies and corporations and bad music whilst playing Diablo II online, doing yoga and downloading music.
Nope! It's all about getting shit done.
Let me know if you want to come to the party!
Saturday May 3.
Mark it on your calendar,
The Start of My Jesus Year!
My Jesus Year is nearly upon me.
Most people who hear me talk about the Jesus year just think I'm cracking fun at how Jesus was crucified at 33.
Not so. Really. It was a very important year for Jesus. He did a lot of stuff.
He died and was reborn, symbolizing a change of consciousness.
On the Third of May I enter the sanctum of that sacred and holy time of transformation.
"The crystallization of a new consciousness" as Carlos Santana would say.
What with Easter and 33 being so close together for me, I ask tolerance from all of you regarding the frightening amount of times I've spoken about Jesus this last week.
I'm not a Jesus freak, out in the street, handing tickets out for God.
To celebrate my Jesus Year I wanted to have a Last Supper Party.
Unfortunately, our house really isn't conducive to such a long table.
I was pretty gumped about it for awhile, my boyfriend talked me down.
I realized that perhaps I'd gone too far when I wanted to sell raffle tickets for the door prize.
Whoever won would receive the raffle money and also got to be Judas for the night.
I am now settling for breaking the martini sales record at groovy little bar downtown.
Yes, it's a heavy cross to bear.
Ok, so maybe my Jesus Year is really about getting pissed and pretending 33 isn't getting a tad bit too old for me to be wearing my hair in braids and pigtails waxing profound against yuppies and corporations and bad music whilst playing Diablo II online, doing yoga and downloading music.
Nope! It's all about getting shit done.
Let me know if you want to come to the party!
Saturday May 3.
Mark it on your calendar,
The Start of My Jesus Year!
SWEET LEAFS
I know I'm supposed to keep the TV off this week.
It being "Turn Your Damn TV Off" week and all...
(See Adbusters.)
But it's the playoffs!
The one time a year where I actually watch a little bit of telly.
I'm all over the puck action, my activism will have to cope.
I love you Sweet Leafs.
I know I'm supposed to keep the TV off this week.
It being "Turn Your Damn TV Off" week and all...
(See Adbusters.)
But it's the playoffs!
The one time a year where I actually watch a little bit of telly.
I'm all over the puck action, my activism will have to cope.
I love you Sweet Leafs.
Monday, April 21, 2003
ASTRAL SHEEP
We were on the highway. Small curses previous, a flat tire left us wrangling with the rental people..." No we aren't driving back to Toronto with that crazy-ass donut looking replacement thing we found in the trunk. We expect a new tire, thanks." We left the city late. 10:00 pm isn't so bad. The guy who came to help us was named Cory. He was good natured wearing a Maple Leafs hat and big dirty hands. Fixed us up in no time. Paco felt bad realizing he hadn't said " Go Leafs Go!" as we drove away from the garage. It's all right, I said, Cory still probably thinks you're ok.
We left the city smiling, cranked the Propellerheads. Chatting a little, then letting words slip away into thought and reflection. It had been a great weekend. I felt in a dreamlike state upon hitting the road. A feeling of contentedness and possibilities enclosed me.
Stopped for gas after some time. Stopped for Tim Horton's. What weekend getaway is not fueled with Tim Horton's?
Paco pulled the car around after filling it with petrol. He got out of the car to take his jacket off.
I turned my head to look out the passenger side window. I saw a double decker bus type thing
and white fur, curly, 2 decks, shiny...what is that? Paco got back into the car.
FG: What is that?
Paco: Sheep
FG: Oh No.
Paco: They're making a racket. Bleating unhappy.
Oh No. No. Don't get all teary. Freak.
FG: Imagine what the person driving that truck would be like.
Paco: I imagine someone who needs a job.
Fair enough.
I shook it off. I shook it out. Maybe they were being taken to a farm where they would live long lives?
No. no. No. They will be slaughtered. I tried to imagine myself driving that vehicle.
Pretty sheep. Stop looking at me like that. Bleaty bleat, pretty sheep. Stop giving me the hairy eyeball now.
Red rum....
I shook it off. Forgot it until dreaming sleep.
We continued our way home, drove with the windows down.
Listening to music.
Later, the rain.
Back to the big, stinky city.
We were on the highway. Small curses previous, a flat tire left us wrangling with the rental people..." No we aren't driving back to Toronto with that crazy-ass donut looking replacement thing we found in the trunk. We expect a new tire, thanks." We left the city late. 10:00 pm isn't so bad. The guy who came to help us was named Cory. He was good natured wearing a Maple Leafs hat and big dirty hands. Fixed us up in no time. Paco felt bad realizing he hadn't said " Go Leafs Go!" as we drove away from the garage. It's all right, I said, Cory still probably thinks you're ok.
We left the city smiling, cranked the Propellerheads. Chatting a little, then letting words slip away into thought and reflection. It had been a great weekend. I felt in a dreamlike state upon hitting the road. A feeling of contentedness and possibilities enclosed me.
Stopped for gas after some time. Stopped for Tim Horton's. What weekend getaway is not fueled with Tim Horton's?
Paco pulled the car around after filling it with petrol. He got out of the car to take his jacket off.
I turned my head to look out the passenger side window. I saw a double decker bus type thing
and white fur, curly, 2 decks, shiny...what is that? Paco got back into the car.
FG: What is that?
Paco: Sheep
FG: Oh No.
Paco: They're making a racket. Bleating unhappy.
Oh No. No. Don't get all teary. Freak.
FG: Imagine what the person driving that truck would be like.
Paco: I imagine someone who needs a job.
Fair enough.
I shook it off. I shook it out. Maybe they were being taken to a farm where they would live long lives?
No. no. No. They will be slaughtered. I tried to imagine myself driving that vehicle.
Pretty sheep. Stop looking at me like that. Bleaty bleat, pretty sheep. Stop giving me the hairy eyeball now.
Red rum....
I shook it off. Forgot it until dreaming sleep.
We continued our way home, drove with the windows down.
Listening to music.
Later, the rain.
Back to the big, stinky city.
Passed Over
I am completely shocked by the amount of folks who have no idea why Easter is a Holiday.
Almost none of the folks I spoke to knew what Passover was.
A girl in my office though it was "a Jewish thing."
Fine, fine, call me educated. But you know...it's our culture.
Our western society is based on this stuff.
When I was a little girl I asked my parents if I could go to Sunday School.
Those poor Atheists thought they were in the clear until I opened up my big mouth.
"Mommy, I want to go hear the Jesus stories. You and Daddy are going to burn in hell."
I got the thumbs up and every Sunday my Aunt or Grandparents drove me to church.
I got to know all of the Jesus stories. And all the creepy Old Testament stuff.
I went to bible camp in the summer. I was a bit of a shit disturber...but I loved it.
After a time I realized that a lot of the religious folks I met were a little hung up on religion.
I grew into the knowledge that many of the folks who instructed me were very nice, but hadn't much of a concept of anything beyond their front door.
" I came, I saw, I left. " Describes my habits pretty accurately.
I had my education on the Bible. On Christianity. On what Western culture is based upon.
I believe most of the bible to be mythology and I'm into Christ Consciousness .
This is based upon my own experience and education.
Why is our society so ignorant?
Can we at least teach our children the mythology of Easter in schools?
As well as Passover, Ramadan...you know, teach why certain days are inportant to certain people and why we should respect that.
Easter is my favourite holiday because it represents of transcendence.
Easter was the crystallization of Christ.
A time where we can truly reflest on the importance of chocolate in our lives.
I am completely shocked by the amount of folks who have no idea why Easter is a Holiday.
Almost none of the folks I spoke to knew what Passover was.
A girl in my office though it was "a Jewish thing."
Fine, fine, call me educated. But you know...it's our culture.
Our western society is based on this stuff.
When I was a little girl I asked my parents if I could go to Sunday School.
Those poor Atheists thought they were in the clear until I opened up my big mouth.
"Mommy, I want to go hear the Jesus stories. You and Daddy are going to burn in hell."
I got the thumbs up and every Sunday my Aunt or Grandparents drove me to church.
I got to know all of the Jesus stories. And all the creepy Old Testament stuff.
I went to bible camp in the summer. I was a bit of a shit disturber...but I loved it.
After a time I realized that a lot of the religious folks I met were a little hung up on religion.
I grew into the knowledge that many of the folks who instructed me were very nice, but hadn't much of a concept of anything beyond their front door.
" I came, I saw, I left. " Describes my habits pretty accurately.
I had my education on the Bible. On Christianity. On what Western culture is based upon.
I believe most of the bible to be mythology and I'm into Christ Consciousness .
This is based upon my own experience and education.
Why is our society so ignorant?
Can we at least teach our children the mythology of Easter in schools?
As well as Passover, Ramadan...you know, teach why certain days are inportant to certain people and why we should respect that.
Easter is my favourite holiday because it represents of transcendence.
Easter was the crystallization of Christ.
A time where we can truly reflest on the importance of chocolate in our lives.
FG: I'm off to bed, are you?
Shakes his head, no
FG: See you when you get to bed, otherwise make me breakfast
Silly government employees who get today off as holiday......
Shakes his head, no
FG: See you when you get to bed, otherwise make me breakfast
Silly government employees who get today off as holiday......
Friday, April 18, 2003
Thursday, April 17, 2003
EASTER
I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a happy Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross by his hands and feet just so friggin mooks like you could eat tons of chocolate that your fat asses don't need and then have your friggin ham or turkey or lamb (my personal choice) dinners with grease dripping off your gravy sucking face...
Christ died for your drippings.
The Dear Sweet Baby Jesus loves you.
Enjoy.
I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a happy Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross by his hands and feet just so friggin mooks like you could eat tons of chocolate that your fat asses don't need and then have your friggin ham or turkey or lamb (my personal choice) dinners with grease dripping off your gravy sucking face...
Christ died for your drippings.
The Dear Sweet Baby Jesus loves you.
Enjoy.
OutKast
I finally did it.
it had to happen at some point.
There I was rockin out at the gym.
So proud to be able to do 60 minutes of cardio in a row.
I made a mix for my MP3 player, just for sweatin it up.
Overzealous freak.
I was listening to Bombs Over Baghdad by OutKast.
I held out until near the end then
"Bob your head. Rag Top."
Fuck. I just sang that out loud.
I looked around. Yes. Everyone heard me.
Yes. They were all looking at me.
What did I do? I gave an Amadeus type laugh and kept moving my body.
Fast.
There was nothing witty to say for myself.
There was no clever recovery.
It was a spastic moment.
I thought it was good of me to entertain others.
What else was there to do?
I finally did it.
it had to happen at some point.
There I was rockin out at the gym.
So proud to be able to do 60 minutes of cardio in a row.
I made a mix for my MP3 player, just for sweatin it up.
Overzealous freak.
I was listening to Bombs Over Baghdad by OutKast.
I held out until near the end then
"Bob your head. Rag Top."
Fuck. I just sang that out loud.
I looked around. Yes. Everyone heard me.
Yes. They were all looking at me.
What did I do? I gave an Amadeus type laugh and kept moving my body.
Fast.
There was nothing witty to say for myself.
There was no clever recovery.
It was a spastic moment.
I thought it was good of me to entertain others.
What else was there to do?
INTERNET FREAKS
It was fine when someone found my blog via a search engine and the search words "hot sexy cinema."
It was funny when someone found me via "Danish housewarming gift."
"Purple microdot," "funeral lipstick" and "smash a few plates" were all interesting.
"FACK ANIMALS" has me a little weirded out though.
It was fine when someone found my blog via a search engine and the search words "hot sexy cinema."
It was funny when someone found me via "Danish housewarming gift."
"Purple microdot," "funeral lipstick" and "smash a few plates" were all interesting.
"FACK ANIMALS" has me a little weirded out though.
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
Someone rated my blog at Eatonweb and deemed me "The Canadian Bridget Jones"
That's ridiculous.
SILLY FUCKWIT
Weight: didn't step on scale
Alcohol Consumed: 1 labatt 50, 1 Alexander Keith's, both bottles
Cigarettes: 2 drags
Calories: 1600
Calories burned: at least 700 (59 minutes cardio, 15 minutes cool down, 10 minute walk)
Times I swore at computer trying to download onto MP3 player: 23
Went bonkers at gym last night. Was sweating like a...Well, like an athletic person... On the elliptical trainer. Tried not to cry as girl same height as me logged into her machine at 123 pounds. A Renee Zellweger type, but with some height. Brought the New York Times mag in with her but read trashy Hello instead. Girl on other side was being goaded by her Personal Trainer.
"Look at her, she's smiling, she's been on that thing for 45 minutes, now why can't you do 10?"
I was smiling. Perhaps the endorphins killed the pain at some point and I stopped grimacing. Maybe it was because I had been daydreaming about fitting size six pants again.
Missed fabulous birthday party for dear sweet Ashley for hockey game with men. Burped more loudly than boys. Hockey watching made 'worth it' by good BF providing a post work out meal for his brilliant, successful and athletic girlfriend (and by giving indecently pleasant massage during game). Snoring, blanket hogging and poor hygiene forgiven for one week.
Popped in to say hi to Ash on way home. Tons of young lovely hipsters armed with martini's and no body fat. Remembered being 20. Gave a big Happy Birthday hug and kiss. Left bar before drunk embarrassment ensued.
Trapped in office all day. Horrid really.
Agent from Men's modeling using my space to take practically nude polariod's of underwear models.
Most inconsiderate to make me look at that.
Excuse me, I'm trying to write in my blog, I really don't want to see your Stanfield's.
Writing list of ways to make job less tedious on gorgeous spring days when the heat goes up to 28.
Stuck on first point.
1) Quit Job.
That's ridiculous.
SILLY FUCKWIT
Weight: didn't step on scale
Alcohol Consumed: 1 labatt 50, 1 Alexander Keith's, both bottles
Cigarettes: 2 drags
Calories: 1600
Calories burned: at least 700 (59 minutes cardio, 15 minutes cool down, 10 minute walk)
Times I swore at computer trying to download onto MP3 player: 23
Went bonkers at gym last night. Was sweating like a...Well, like an athletic person... On the elliptical trainer. Tried not to cry as girl same height as me logged into her machine at 123 pounds. A Renee Zellweger type, but with some height. Brought the New York Times mag in with her but read trashy Hello instead. Girl on other side was being goaded by her Personal Trainer.
"Look at her, she's smiling, she's been on that thing for 45 minutes, now why can't you do 10?"
I was smiling. Perhaps the endorphins killed the pain at some point and I stopped grimacing. Maybe it was because I had been daydreaming about fitting size six pants again.
Missed fabulous birthday party for dear sweet Ashley for hockey game with men. Burped more loudly than boys. Hockey watching made 'worth it' by good BF providing a post work out meal for his brilliant, successful and athletic girlfriend (and by giving indecently pleasant massage during game). Snoring, blanket hogging and poor hygiene forgiven for one week.
Popped in to say hi to Ash on way home. Tons of young lovely hipsters armed with martini's and no body fat. Remembered being 20. Gave a big Happy Birthday hug and kiss. Left bar before drunk embarrassment ensued.
Trapped in office all day. Horrid really.
Agent from Men's modeling using my space to take practically nude polariod's of underwear models.
Most inconsiderate to make me look at that.
Excuse me, I'm trying to write in my blog, I really don't want to see your Stanfield's.
Writing list of ways to make job less tedious on gorgeous spring days when the heat goes up to 28.
Stuck on first point.
1) Quit Job.
Monday, April 14, 2003
Hubcap Diamond Star Halo
I am known as Hubcap Girl to some.
It stems from a traditional bi-annual activity.
The Wasted Walkathon.
Starting with an early nineties group of insane engineering students from U of T,
the Walkathon has bloomed into something that even my Father has born witness to.
The only thing missing is The Cannon.
A few years ago I was brought to the Winter Wasted Walkathon.
I knew four people.
Somewhere between bars 4 and 9
in the middle of a cold road in Kensington Market
I found the hubcap.
It fell off a non luxury car.
It was a little dirty.
It fit perfectly on top of my fake fur hat.
It was beautiful.
I'm so street...car.
Wearing a hubcap is an interesting way to make that distinct
first impression that the livestock handlers tell you is so important.
The awkwardness ended,
these people now knew who I was...
*HUBCAP GIRL*
The Dead MIlkmen's Punk Rock Girl has only fame,
history, and fashion savy, and an annoying chorus in comparison.
I'm Gonna
Rock Your World
Just you and me
Hubcap Girl.
I am known as Hubcap Girl to some.
It stems from a traditional bi-annual activity.
The Wasted Walkathon.
Starting with an early nineties group of insane engineering students from U of T,
the Walkathon has bloomed into something that even my Father has born witness to.
The only thing missing is The Cannon.
A few years ago I was brought to the Winter Wasted Walkathon.
I knew four people.
Somewhere between bars 4 and 9
in the middle of a cold road in Kensington Market
I found the hubcap.
It fell off a non luxury car.
It was a little dirty.
It fit perfectly on top of my fake fur hat.
It was beautiful.
I'm so street...car.
Wearing a hubcap is an interesting way to make that distinct
first impression that the livestock handlers tell you is so important.
The awkwardness ended,
these people now knew who I was...
*HUBCAP GIRL*
The Dead MIlkmen's Punk Rock Girl has only fame,
history, and fashion savy, and an annoying chorus in comparison.
I'm Gonna
Rock Your World
Just you and me
Hubcap Girl.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
Friday, April 11, 2003
WHAT'S THE STIGMATA?
I went to see a play last night.
It was about the second coming of Christ.
Jesus Christ.
It was a comedy.
Sacrilegious.
The curtain went down,
my nose started to spew blood.
I checked for signs of stigmata.
Nothing.
Lots of blood. I tilted my head back.
Bad idea.
Swallowing blood is more gross than I'd remembered.
Paco flew off to procure something to sop it up.
The usher came over with a cold compress and a mighty big roll of toilet paper.
The stage hands furrowed their brows in concern, sweetly clucking their tongues on the roofs of their mouths.
...what is the name for the "aw that's so sad, tut, tut" sound?
I tried to make it stop.
What works?
Pinch your nose shut.
Feeling like a wanker the whole time.
I cried a bit.
There was too much blood for me to laugh.
It was alarming.
Was the play so bad that it made me hemorrhage?
No.
Was "God" was punishing me for laughing?
I wonder what would have happened to me if
Christ: The Second Coming
had been presented in a genre other that comedy....
I went to see a play last night.
It was about the second coming of Christ.
Jesus Christ.
It was a comedy.
Sacrilegious.
The curtain went down,
my nose started to spew blood.
I checked for signs of stigmata.
Nothing.
Lots of blood. I tilted my head back.
Bad idea.
Swallowing blood is more gross than I'd remembered.
Paco flew off to procure something to sop it up.
The usher came over with a cold compress and a mighty big roll of toilet paper.
The stage hands furrowed their brows in concern, sweetly clucking their tongues on the roofs of their mouths.
...what is the name for the "aw that's so sad, tut, tut" sound?
I tried to make it stop.
What works?
Pinch your nose shut.
Feeling like a wanker the whole time.
I cried a bit.
There was too much blood for me to laugh.
It was alarming.
Was the play so bad that it made me hemorrhage?
No.
Was "God" was punishing me for laughing?
I wonder what would have happened to me if
Christ: The Second Coming
had been presented in a genre other that comedy....
Thursday, April 10, 2003
Blair: What proof do you have that Iraq has weapons of mass destruction?
Bush: We kept the reciepts.
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
Donnie Darko
Playing on the digital tv movie channel this week.
Go Donnie Go.
It's almost as good as when The Fellowship of the Ring was on for two weeks straight.
I've been enjoying the Independent Film Channel.
Roger & Me, Dead Man, Brief History of Time, House of Yes, Shall we Dance?
That was all in one week of scheduling.
Playing on the digital tv movie channel this week.
Go Donnie Go.
It's almost as good as when The Fellowship of the Ring was on for two weeks straight.
I've been enjoying the Independent Film Channel.
Roger & Me, Dead Man, Brief History of Time, House of Yes, Shall we Dance?
That was all in one week of scheduling.
Google isn't Always fun
We put one of our actors names into
Google. It's a big porn name.
None of us wants to check if it's really him.
Gross.
We put one of our actors names into
Google. It's a big porn name.
None of us wants to check if it's really him.
Gross.
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
MP3 Player + The Gym
Last night I pushed through my cardio workout
listening to Supergrass.
I went further, harder.
I was smiling.
Music = Maximum performance.
Last night I pushed through my cardio workout
listening to Supergrass.
I went further, harder.
I was smiling.
Music = Maximum performance.
Monday, April 07, 2003
What are the sources of this food poisoning?
Most cases are associated with undercooked, contaminated ground beef. The organism lives in the intestines of healthy cows. Meat can become contaminated during slaughter when intestinal fecal matter is mixed with beef that is ground into hamburger. Contaminated meat looks and smells normal so it is not readily detectable. Bacteria on cow udders or milking machines can contaminate raw milk.
Nasty.
Most cases are associated with undercooked, contaminated ground beef. The organism lives in the intestines of healthy cows. Meat can become contaminated during slaughter when intestinal fecal matter is mixed with beef that is ground into hamburger. Contaminated meat looks and smells normal so it is not readily detectable. Bacteria on cow udders or milking machines can contaminate raw milk.
Nasty.
Sunday, April 06, 2003
Friday, April 04, 2003
I'm listening to Led Zeppelin's "Many" song right now.
Yes, Over the HIlls and far Away.
It's a song which certainly brings up memories of cruising around in my Dodge Charger.
Yes. Sky bule metallic with a hatchback and a very shitty sound system.
Which Led Zeppelin song are you?
I appear to be Fool in the Rain today.
Yes, Over the HIlls and far Away.
It's a song which certainly brings up memories of cruising around in my Dodge Charger.
Yes. Sky bule metallic with a hatchback and a very shitty sound system.
Which Led Zeppelin song are you?
I appear to be Fool in the Rain today.
Couples...
Paco: Are you finding nothing I say funny?
Freak: Are you trying to be funny, or are you just trying to annoy me?
Paco: Well I guess my work is done.
Freak: Why?
Paco: Cause it's embarassing either way.
Freak: And that my friend, is comedy.
Paco: Are you finding nothing I say funny?
Freak: Are you trying to be funny, or are you just trying to annoy me?
Paco: Well I guess my work is done.
Freak: Why?
Paco: Cause it's embarassing either way.
Freak: And that my friend, is comedy.
Fridays...
This Friday
Bon Jovi fans
Unite in my office and discuss
how well he has aged
but his hair was better long.
I sit upstairs, laugh quietly
and listen to my devil music.
This Friday
Bon Jovi fans
Unite in my office and discuss
how well he has aged
but his hair was better long.
I sit upstairs, laugh quietly
and listen to my devil music.
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Pumpin' on my Stereo
I'm a Super-ass
I've been livin' without
SUPERGRASS
I've been known to be very anti-popular music.
I've been known to be very umm..eclectic in my musical tastes.
So...I ignored Supergrass.
Foolish woman.
What was I thinkin?
My faith is renewed.
I'm a Super-ass
I've been livin' without
SUPERGRASS
I've been known to be very anti-popular music.
I've been known to be very umm..eclectic in my musical tastes.
So...I ignored Supergrass.
Foolish woman.
What was I thinkin?
My faith is renewed.
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
I thought that cows were all females
and horses were all males....
Most of you know I have a ton of weird little stories from when I was a kid.
Who doesn't?
There is a website you can go to and peruse the stories about what other folks believed as kids.
You can also add your own anecdotes.
Cool.
and horses were all males....
Most of you know I have a ton of weird little stories from when I was a kid.
Who doesn't?
There is a website you can go to and peruse the stories about what other folks believed as kids.
You can also add your own anecdotes.
Cool.
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
I got cold-cocked this morning
PART ONE
It was a usual morning on the Metro in Toronto. Grumpy ass people getting angered further at times by my polite smile. I sat beside a small man who being smaller than I obviously needed much more room than me. Wanker. Ah well. I sat with my ass half-off the seat at a polite distance reading my book.
We got to Dundas. The train resumed movement on it's way to Queen. He stood. I had to get up to let him out. This sucked. The train was crowded. We had all the time in the world to get to the friggin door and out to Queen as the train wasn't even anywhere near stopped. I was getting out at the next stop as well.
It irked me to have to move prematurely for this mook.
He was going to waste paragraphs worth of my reading time and have me squished in with the other livestock standing in front of the doors.
It's dangerous to move around while the train is moving and fairly crowded.
That postulation is evidenced by the following events.
I was forced to stand as Wankerman was now pushing me (without saying excuse me).
I stood slowly and turned to the man standing over and above me (saying excuse me).
He tried to acquiesce. His hand flew out. I moved. The train lurched. His hand flew back. Connected to my cheek. Wanker man saw it happen. That fucker just walked off to the door without a glance. Punchman was apologizing profusley. I was laughing, trying not to hold my cheek. Punchman kept apoligizing. I missed my stop. I cracked a few jokes. It was more funny than anything. My cheek stung enough, but I was unharmed. It became funnier when I told Punchman not to worry, it was all "Captain Jackass Wankerman's" fault. At which point the train stopped. I yelled " Cheers!" and buggered off. Leaving the remainder of the train passengers scratching their heads. I backtracked to Queen station.
PART TWO
I got into the streetcar. I got back into my book. I heard mumbling behind me and a bit of lipsmacking. My ears started to burn a little. The back of my neck tickled. Someone was a little closer than they should be. I cracked the window a little to rinse off the vibe. Just a few stops. No worries. The streetcar lurched back into motion on it's way to Sherbourne. Queen and Sherbourne. The questionable presence behind me came forward. Stood near the rear exit doors (which I sat in front of). Hm. This is no Rummy. This is a raver looking little dude. His lip is pierced, his gear is cool. His eyes are popping out of his head. Oh. He's just really high. He looks at me. Pure emotion spewing from his eyes. "It's all good. You're all right man." He looked relieved. I swear he was going to hug me and start crying. It was sad. He got off the streetcar. What could I do? Tell him to chill out on the heroic doses? Especially wierd was having watched Michael Winterbottom's "24 Hour Party People" last night. This film was about the musical movement chrystalized in Manchester in the 70's carrying through to the 90's (Punk to techno - Joy Division to New Order to - Blue Mondays- rave culture). The film was also very much about severely drugged up folks and the start of the rave culture. The dude in front of me on the streetcar could have been an extra on that set. He was twitchy- jiggered.
Sherbourne and Queen, known for the drugged out opera played out in broad daylight.
It is not recreational usage and exploration.
Cop cars and rehab. Crack whores and junkies.
PART THREE
I thought about getting a donut.
Maybe an apple fritter.
PART ONE
It was a usual morning on the Metro in Toronto. Grumpy ass people getting angered further at times by my polite smile. I sat beside a small man who being smaller than I obviously needed much more room than me. Wanker. Ah well. I sat with my ass half-off the seat at a polite distance reading my book.
We got to Dundas. The train resumed movement on it's way to Queen. He stood. I had to get up to let him out. This sucked. The train was crowded. We had all the time in the world to get to the friggin door and out to Queen as the train wasn't even anywhere near stopped. I was getting out at the next stop as well.
It irked me to have to move prematurely for this mook.
He was going to waste paragraphs worth of my reading time and have me squished in with the other livestock standing in front of the doors.
It's dangerous to move around while the train is moving and fairly crowded.
That postulation is evidenced by the following events.
I was forced to stand as Wankerman was now pushing me (without saying excuse me).
I stood slowly and turned to the man standing over and above me (saying excuse me).
He tried to acquiesce. His hand flew out. I moved. The train lurched. His hand flew back. Connected to my cheek. Wanker man saw it happen. That fucker just walked off to the door without a glance. Punchman was apologizing profusley. I was laughing, trying not to hold my cheek. Punchman kept apoligizing. I missed my stop. I cracked a few jokes. It was more funny than anything. My cheek stung enough, but I was unharmed. It became funnier when I told Punchman not to worry, it was all "Captain Jackass Wankerman's" fault. At which point the train stopped. I yelled " Cheers!" and buggered off. Leaving the remainder of the train passengers scratching their heads. I backtracked to Queen station.
PART TWO
I got into the streetcar. I got back into my book. I heard mumbling behind me and a bit of lipsmacking. My ears started to burn a little. The back of my neck tickled. Someone was a little closer than they should be. I cracked the window a little to rinse off the vibe. Just a few stops. No worries. The streetcar lurched back into motion on it's way to Sherbourne. Queen and Sherbourne. The questionable presence behind me came forward. Stood near the rear exit doors (which I sat in front of). Hm. This is no Rummy. This is a raver looking little dude. His lip is pierced, his gear is cool. His eyes are popping out of his head. Oh. He's just really high. He looks at me. Pure emotion spewing from his eyes. "It's all good. You're all right man." He looked relieved. I swear he was going to hug me and start crying. It was sad. He got off the streetcar. What could I do? Tell him to chill out on the heroic doses? Especially wierd was having watched Michael Winterbottom's "24 Hour Party People" last night. This film was about the musical movement chrystalized in Manchester in the 70's carrying through to the 90's (Punk to techno - Joy Division to New Order to - Blue Mondays- rave culture). The film was also very much about severely drugged up folks and the start of the rave culture. The dude in front of me on the streetcar could have been an extra on that set. He was twitchy- jiggered.
Sherbourne and Queen, known for the drugged out opera played out in broad daylight.
It is not recreational usage and exploration.
Cop cars and rehab. Crack whores and junkies.
PART THREE
I thought about getting a donut.
Maybe an apple fritter.