Thursday, July 31, 2003
HEGEMONY
I looked it up because I forgot the exact definition this weekend. Use it or lose it, I guess.
In short:
Hegemony (He*gem`o*ny)
Having greater prevalence or authority over others.
Examples: The hegemony of the English language as the language most used in international communication.
Now I want to make up a whole linking chain of hegemonic reference.
I'm hyper.
I looked it up because I forgot the exact definition this weekend. Use it or lose it, I guess.
In short:
Hegemony (He*gem`o*ny)
Having greater prevalence or authority over others.
Examples: The hegemony of the English language as the language most used in international communication.
Now I want to make up a whole linking chain of hegemonic reference.
I'm hyper.
MORE ATHLETICS
Speaking of being proud about someone running. I have never been a runner. I played soccer and a ton of basketball growing up, sure. I still never ran like a runner. Late this spring I decided it was time to run for real. I sucked. One day, Paco came along and showed me how to run. I got better. Paco started to run himself (after a long hiatus). That was incentive. I still sucked though.
I rode the subway home this evening from another day of freelancing. I was spent. I began to read the story of Greg Osterman. His journey inspired me, to say the least. This man was on his deathbed from a fatal heart disease 11 years ago. Osterman received a new heart miraculously. An 18 year-old girl died suddenly, Osterman got to live. This blows me away on many levels. He had a rough start with his new ticker, things worked out well for him in the end. The kind of guy who lived on beer and cigarettes previously, he got healthy and then some. He has now run more marathons that any other heart transplant recipient. Wow. Take a bow Greg, and show us the huge grin you must wear.
I had always felt strange about organ donation. It made me squeamish, but filled out my donor card with a 'yes' anyway. Part of it seemed a little bit Frankenstein to me. Then my friend Davin died in a weird accident. I realized that someone was given his eyes, his heart, maybe other things. It comforted me to know that part of him lived on in others. It still comforts me. I mean, if your done with your body, why not share? The ancient Egyptians had their own thing going on there with needing the parts for the journey to the afterlife and all... But do we need them? 17 people in the US die each day waiting for suitable organ donations (incidentally, Canada has the lowest donor rate in all developed nations).
Osterman's story inspired me. A young girl's heart beating in the chest of a man who has sons older than she was when she died. A new life.
Paco and I went running tonight. I ran more than two miles (yes, miles) without stopping. I have never done that before. I would always have to stop and walk at intervals. Paco matched his pace to mine, which was helpful - I'm used to running at a solo pace. Paco encouraged me to go further. It is motivating to run with someone beside you reminding you of your strength, yet the determination to use it is all yours. Osterman's story helped to seal my determination. I've got all my own original parts, what's stopping me from running well besides my own attitude?
I don't suck.
Speaking of being proud about someone running. I have never been a runner. I played soccer and a ton of basketball growing up, sure. I still never ran like a runner. Late this spring I decided it was time to run for real. I sucked. One day, Paco came along and showed me how to run. I got better. Paco started to run himself (after a long hiatus). That was incentive. I still sucked though.
I rode the subway home this evening from another day of freelancing. I was spent. I began to read the story of Greg Osterman. His journey inspired me, to say the least. This man was on his deathbed from a fatal heart disease 11 years ago. Osterman received a new heart miraculously. An 18 year-old girl died suddenly, Osterman got to live. This blows me away on many levels. He had a rough start with his new ticker, things worked out well for him in the end. The kind of guy who lived on beer and cigarettes previously, he got healthy and then some. He has now run more marathons that any other heart transplant recipient. Wow. Take a bow Greg, and show us the huge grin you must wear.
I had always felt strange about organ donation. It made me squeamish, but filled out my donor card with a 'yes' anyway. Part of it seemed a little bit Frankenstein to me. Then my friend Davin died in a weird accident. I realized that someone was given his eyes, his heart, maybe other things. It comforted me to know that part of him lived on in others. It still comforts me. I mean, if your done with your body, why not share? The ancient Egyptians had their own thing going on there with needing the parts for the journey to the afterlife and all... But do we need them? 17 people in the US die each day waiting for suitable organ donations (incidentally, Canada has the lowest donor rate in all developed nations).
Osterman's story inspired me. A young girl's heart beating in the chest of a man who has sons older than she was when she died. A new life.
Paco and I went running tonight. I ran more than two miles (yes, miles) without stopping. I have never done that before. I would always have to stop and walk at intervals. Paco matched his pace to mine, which was helpful - I'm used to running at a solo pace. Paco encouraged me to go further. It is motivating to run with someone beside you reminding you of your strength, yet the determination to use it is all yours. Osterman's story helped to seal my determination. I've got all my own original parts, what's stopping me from running well besides my own attitude?
I don't suck.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
ATHLETICS
Congratulations to all the peeps who ran the 10k on the island last Sunday.
With a fifteen year hiatus from running and little training, Paco completed the race in less than an hour. Not too bad for a natural athlete with really nice legs - I mean, excellent results for a guy who wasn't sure if he'd be able to run the race at all...I'm proud of you.
Congratulations to all the peeps who ran the 10k on the island last Sunday.
With a fifteen year hiatus from running and little training, Paco completed the race in less than an hour. Not too bad for a natural athlete with really nice legs - I mean, excellent results for a guy who wasn't sure if he'd be able to run the race at all...I'm proud of you.
Monday, July 28, 2003
UPTIGHT
Waking up in the middle of the night realizing I'd left a banana in my purse is typical of me. Could I get back to sleep without knowing if the banana had been crushed? No. The banana was fine. Now I won't eat that banana though. I'm weird that way.
Waking up in the middle of the night realizing I'd left a banana in my purse is typical of me. Could I get back to sleep without knowing if the banana had been crushed? No. The banana was fine. Now I won't eat that banana though. I'm weird that way.
The Devil's Marketing Team had a Major Pow Wow
This morning I stood a scale to weigh myself. This is a non-regular thing. I'm into measurements, if I'm going to take that road with myself.
I got on the scale anyway. I've been very active, I was sure it wouldn't be depressing. It wasn't. It was fine. My weight is good.
What really sucked in a big way and horrified me was the logo on the scale.
"Thinner"
That's just wrong man.
This morning I stood a scale to weigh myself. This is a non-regular thing. I'm into measurements, if I'm going to take that road with myself.
I got on the scale anyway. I've been very active, I was sure it wouldn't be depressing. It wasn't. It was fine. My weight is good.
What really sucked in a big way and horrified me was the logo on the scale.
"Thinner"
That's just wrong man.
Sunday, July 27, 2003
So Hung Need Pho Hung
A few factors led me to this state:
1) Beginning the drinking at 2:30 pm
2) Starting with Donna's properly made Margueritas
3) Then drinking beer
4) Then drinking wine
5) Then having one sip of Sambucca
6) Finishing a magnum with Tara -the bride to be
If I could just get some East Indian or Thai food into me, I would be perfectly fine.
A few factors led me to this state:
1) Beginning the drinking at 2:30 pm
2) Starting with Donna's properly made Margueritas
3) Then drinking beer
4) Then drinking wine
5) Then having one sip of Sambucca
6) Finishing a magnum with Tara -the bride to be
If I could just get some East Indian or Thai food into me, I would be perfectly fine.
Saturday, July 26, 2003
Friendship
I am going to a Bridal Shower this weekend. The bride has requested lingerie as a gift. I was deeply concerned about purchasing another woman underwear. A little nervous even. La Vie En Rose has a surprisingly good selection.
I bought another woman underwear. It was totally fun.
I am going to a Bridal Shower this weekend. The bride has requested lingerie as a gift. I was deeply concerned about purchasing another woman underwear. A little nervous even. La Vie En Rose has a surprisingly good selection.
I bought another woman underwear. It was totally fun.
Friday, July 25, 2003
Vanity
I'm sitting in front of my computer wearing a towel around my neck and a plastic bag on my head. I may even go into the wading pool and act like there is no bag on my head. That's fun.
It's Henna that I have in my hair. It comes in a powder. You mix it with water until it becomes a smelly and brownish-green, with a soupy type texture. It Stanks. You brush the poopy looking goop into your hair. Little flecks tend to land everywhere. Then your head must be kept under plastic for an hour.
I enjoy walking around with a bag on my head. I'm actually double bagged. I poofed out the top really high just to be a goof.
I was proud to start going grey at a young age, very Holden Caufield. I spent my teens and most of my twenties dying my hair. I had green and blue hair for a little while. I mostly stuck with reds or purples. I'm tired of my hair going skanky from dye. I like the henna. My hair is healthy now. Henna turns the greys blondish, keeps the rest red.
It's almost 'bag off' time. I must rush into the backyard to make an ass of myself.
I make an ass of myself at least twice a week in order to truly feel alive.
I'm sitting in front of my computer wearing a towel around my neck and a plastic bag on my head. I may even go into the wading pool and act like there is no bag on my head. That's fun.
It's Henna that I have in my hair. It comes in a powder. You mix it with water until it becomes a smelly and brownish-green, with a soupy type texture. It Stanks. You brush the poopy looking goop into your hair. Little flecks tend to land everywhere. Then your head must be kept under plastic for an hour.
I enjoy walking around with a bag on my head. I'm actually double bagged. I poofed out the top really high just to be a goof.
I was proud to start going grey at a young age, very Holden Caufield. I spent my teens and most of my twenties dying my hair. I had green and blue hair for a little while. I mostly stuck with reds or purples. I'm tired of my hair going skanky from dye. I like the henna. My hair is healthy now. Henna turns the greys blondish, keeps the rest red.
It's almost 'bag off' time. I must rush into the backyard to make an ass of myself.
I make an ass of myself at least twice a week in order to truly feel alive.
Get Cultured
The ROM has free admission on Fridays 4:30 to 9:30 pm. Most Toronto folk know this, yes. I just never really thought of it as part of a Friday night's plans. It's a classy precursor and balance to later in the evening which is about going out, drinking like a hoser, and dancing on broken glass.
The ROM has free admission on Fridays 4:30 to 9:30 pm. Most Toronto folk know this, yes. I just never really thought of it as part of a Friday night's plans. It's a classy precursor and balance to later in the evening which is about going out, drinking like a hoser, and dancing on broken glass.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
KARMA
Last night Gail and I strolled to Union Station from the Harbourfront Centre. She groundscored a ten dollar bill. We walked along a little further, then she passed the bill to me. "It's better luck if I pass it on," she said. Yeah right. It's called "be nice to your unemployed friend." She insisted that I should take it. Karma, you know. Superstitious Scottish Babe. Thanks Gail. You rock.
Today I took that money and put it toward a pledge for the Blogathon 2003. The blog of choice is Photojunkie. The blogger, Rannie Turington's (what a great name) is sending his pledges to AIDS Committee of Toronto (ACT).
This blogathon is notable. Tons of bloggers collect pledges for their charity of choice and then they update their blogs every half hour for 24 hours on July 26 th of this year. Check out Rannie's blog this weekend. He will be posting photography tips. If you have any ideas, let Rannie know (all his contact info is on his site). 48 posts is a lot of content.
While I'm asking you to help, you could pledge as well! If you go to Photojunkie, all you need to know is right there for you. All I did was fill out a form online and mail a cheque- Easy peasy. It doesn't have to be much. It all adds up. Also - Rannie is making a mixed CD for the blogathon and will mail any pledgers a copy of it. Now, isn't that sweet?
This is hippy chick signing out
Last night Gail and I strolled to Union Station from the Harbourfront Centre. She groundscored a ten dollar bill. We walked along a little further, then she passed the bill to me. "It's better luck if I pass it on," she said. Yeah right. It's called "be nice to your unemployed friend." She insisted that I should take it. Karma, you know. Superstitious Scottish Babe. Thanks Gail. You rock.
Today I took that money and put it toward a pledge for the Blogathon 2003. The blog of choice is Photojunkie. The blogger, Rannie Turington's (what a great name) is sending his pledges to AIDS Committee of Toronto (ACT).
This blogathon is notable. Tons of bloggers collect pledges for their charity of choice and then they update their blogs every half hour for 24 hours on July 26 th of this year. Check out Rannie's blog this weekend. He will be posting photography tips. If you have any ideas, let Rannie know (all his contact info is on his site). 48 posts is a lot of content.
While I'm asking you to help, you could pledge as well! If you go to Photojunkie, all you need to know is right there for you. All I did was fill out a form online and mail a cheque- Easy peasy. It doesn't have to be much. It all adds up. Also - Rannie is making a mixed CD for the blogathon and will mail any pledgers a copy of it. Now, isn't that sweet?
This is hippy chick signing out
Good Morning
Josephine & I stood in the yard picking ripe raspberries and stuffing our faces. We giggled. She speaks little English, my Italian is less than polite. Doesn't matter.
My landlady and her 81 year old mother are conveniently located in the house next door to us. They have a good garden. Mine is mostly herbs and some tomatoes, I don't have the space to do it up right. My landlady's Mom (Josephine) plants beans and cucumbers in my yard too.
Josephine and I went over her plants again. She has a fig tree she brought from Italy 50 years ago. It basically sits in an outdoor closet all winter. The thing faithfully comes back to life for her every spring. Same with the bay. Speaking of rebirth, one plant is now in flower. It's is a skinny looking grey thing with little spikes sticking out it's sides. On it's tops are tiny tear shaped green leaves. This week it has bloomed. Very small red-pink flowers adorn the tops of the spindly thorn plant. Josephine says it's the same plant that Jesus' crown was made of. Someone brought it to her from Europe. I know it means a lot. Her voice held a bit of the sacred when she told me about it. So I didn't make any Jesus digs.
Besides, Jesus is just alright with me.
Josephine & I stood in the yard picking ripe raspberries and stuffing our faces. We giggled. She speaks little English, my Italian is less than polite. Doesn't matter.
My landlady and her 81 year old mother are conveniently located in the house next door to us. They have a good garden. Mine is mostly herbs and some tomatoes, I don't have the space to do it up right. My landlady's Mom (Josephine) plants beans and cucumbers in my yard too.
Josephine and I went over her plants again. She has a fig tree she brought from Italy 50 years ago. It basically sits in an outdoor closet all winter. The thing faithfully comes back to life for her every spring. Same with the bay. Speaking of rebirth, one plant is now in flower. It's is a skinny looking grey thing with little spikes sticking out it's sides. On it's tops are tiny tear shaped green leaves. This week it has bloomed. Very small red-pink flowers adorn the tops of the spindly thorn plant. Josephine says it's the same plant that Jesus' crown was made of. Someone brought it to her from Europe. I know it means a lot. Her voice held a bit of the sacred when she told me about it. So I didn't make any Jesus digs.
Besides, Jesus is just alright with me.
MAGIC
We have an old black and white poster of Clarke Gable. He's playing poker and looking confidently suave with a cigarillo in his mouth. What appears to be a black cape sits 'jauntily' upon his shoulders.
Years ago a roomate of Paco's got artsy with the poker cards in Gable's hand, replacing them with cut out Magic cards. It's hopelessly nerdy. I love it.
"Don't laugh. It works." -Yavimaya ranger
~Magic Quote
We have an old black and white poster of Clarke Gable. He's playing poker and looking confidently suave with a cigarillo in his mouth. What appears to be a black cape sits 'jauntily' upon his shoulders.
Years ago a roomate of Paco's got artsy with the poker cards in Gable's hand, replacing them with cut out Magic cards. It's hopelessly nerdy. I love it.
"Don't laugh. It works." -Yavimaya ranger
~Magic Quote
Mmmm...Psychedelic Ducks
Lemon Jelly. This groovy video has hooked me. Gettin down at the pond, yo.
Needs Quicktime.
Lemon Jelly. This groovy video has hooked me. Gettin down at the pond, yo.
Needs Quicktime.
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
A Good Word
dysphemism (DIS-fuh-miz-em) noun. The substitution of a harsher, deprecating or offensive term in place of a relatively neutral term.
(via Cup of Chicha)
dysphemism (DIS-fuh-miz-em) noun. The substitution of a harsher, deprecating or offensive term in place of a relatively neutral term.
(via Cup of Chicha)
SAY IT THREE TIMES...
I'm going down to Harbourfront Centre to catch a Free Flick with Gail tonight. This weekly event was showing Woody Allen movies and has moved onto featuring Tim Burton films for the next few Wednesday evenings.
Beetlejuice for free, under the big sky. How wholesome. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice...
I read Harbourfront's blurb regarding the Free Flicks. Tim Burton was touted as a visionary and also as an "independent" film maker.
As far as I heard it. Burton got his start an artist/animator at Disney. They saw his potential and gave him more creative control of his projects. Pee Wee Herman saw some of his work and thought Tim would be a great director for Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Ta- Da! Pee Wee became the surprise hit movie of that summer and Burton became a star. What's so independent about that?
Is a movie independent if it has big studio funding?
Don't get me wrong, Edward Scissorhands made me cry as a teenager and all - though that may have had more to do with my pubescent crush on Johnny Depp. Did you know that Tom Cruise was supposed to play Edward? Whoa. Weird. I am a fan of Ed Wood and Nightmare too. I'm just thinking maybe Burton could do some more twisted stuff and leave off the Planet of the Apes type movies. Tim Burton doing a blockbuster is like Jack Skellington trying to be Sandy Claws in Nightmare Before Christmas, a poor fit.
~ BEETLEJUICE ~
You're a live, animated person -- literally.
You're more twisted than comes to the eye, and
are, mostly likely, incredibly dark in a
humourous way.
What TIM BURTON Movie Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
I'm going down to Harbourfront Centre to catch a Free Flick with Gail tonight. This weekly event was showing Woody Allen movies and has moved onto featuring Tim Burton films for the next few Wednesday evenings.
Beetlejuice for free, under the big sky. How wholesome. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice...
I read Harbourfront's blurb regarding the Free Flicks. Tim Burton was touted as a visionary and also as an "independent" film maker.
As far as I heard it. Burton got his start an artist/animator at Disney. They saw his potential and gave him more creative control of his projects. Pee Wee Herman saw some of his work and thought Tim would be a great director for Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Ta- Da! Pee Wee became the surprise hit movie of that summer and Burton became a star. What's so independent about that?
Is a movie independent if it has big studio funding?
Don't get me wrong, Edward Scissorhands made me cry as a teenager and all - though that may have had more to do with my pubescent crush on Johnny Depp. Did you know that Tom Cruise was supposed to play Edward? Whoa. Weird. I am a fan of Ed Wood and Nightmare too. I'm just thinking maybe Burton could do some more twisted stuff and leave off the Planet of the Apes type movies. Tim Burton doing a blockbuster is like Jack Skellington trying to be Sandy Claws in Nightmare Before Christmas, a poor fit.
~ BEETLEJUICE ~
You're a live, animated person -- literally.
You're more twisted than comes to the eye, and
are, mostly likely, incredibly dark in a
humourous way.
What TIM BURTON Movie Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Ordering Pizza
So, I got some oregano oil to use as a cure for my mysteriously infected nails. I diluted the oregano oil in almond oil. I applied it to my nails hoping for the best.
I now smell like pepperoni pizza. I'm also strangely hungry.
So, I got some oregano oil to use as a cure for my mysteriously infected nails. I diluted the oregano oil in almond oil. I applied it to my nails hoping for the best.
I now smell like pepperoni pizza. I'm also strangely hungry.
Monday, July 21, 2003
BUMMER
There is a point in unemployed life where one may become sad. Where the prospect of waitering again becomes attractive, after swearing to never do it again. Where I think..."Yeah I could take that job I'd actually hate" because I feel that I have to work in order to be a valuable human being. I feel like having money that isn't part of"the pogey" so that my partner doesn't get antsy.
I am having fun not working, yet feel extremely guilty about it. Fun that you feel guilty about isn't really fun.
This is where I start daydreaming about going on hiatus somewhere exotic, and cheap.
There is a point in unemployed life where one may become sad. Where the prospect of waitering again becomes attractive, after swearing to never do it again. Where I think..."Yeah I could take that job I'd actually hate" because I feel that I have to work in order to be a valuable human being. I feel like having money that isn't part of"the pogey" so that my partner doesn't get antsy.
I am having fun not working, yet feel extremely guilty about it. Fun that you feel guilty about isn't really fun.
This is where I start daydreaming about going on hiatus somewhere exotic, and cheap.
Sunday, July 20, 2003
PARTY
Honest Ed Mirvish (of Honest Ed's) turns 89 and throws another big party today. He can not make today's festivities as he is ill. This will not interfere with people lining up for free stuff.
My friend Benj is in town from BC. Gail and I plan to take him to this party thing. He may never come back to Ontario.
Maybe we'll just cruise the second hand shops.
Honest Ed Mirvish (of Honest Ed's) turns 89 and throws another big party today. He can not make today's festivities as he is ill. This will not interfere with people lining up for free stuff.
My friend Benj is in town from BC. Gail and I plan to take him to this party thing. He may never come back to Ontario.
Maybe we'll just cruise the second hand shops.
I'm heartless and cruel...
I've gotten a surprising amount of hits through search engines set to find "Leah McLaren." This confirms my suspicion that she spends many an hour searching for herself on the internet.
I've gotten a surprising amount of hits through search engines set to find "Leah McLaren." This confirms my suspicion that she spends many an hour searching for herself on the internet.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Fear and Loathing on the Code
I will learn the CSS and I will like it.
I am not afraid. Pass me the ether.
I will learn the CSS and I will like it.
I am not afraid. Pass me the ether.
What is in a name...
I respect Linus Roache as an actor (not everyone gets to play Coleridge). He's very talented.
I have guilt when I hear Linus Roache and see Linus Van Pelt from Charles M. Schultzs' .
I feel badly. They look nothing alike.
Which Peanuts Character Are You Quiz
I didn't test to see which character I would be. My Auntie Jo has been calling me Peppermint Patti for a long, long time, I couldn't prove her wrong now- even though I always wanted to be the cute little red-headed girl instead.
I respect Linus Roache as an actor (not everyone gets to play Coleridge). He's very talented.
I have guilt when I hear Linus Roache and see Linus Van Pelt from Charles M. Schultzs' .
I feel badly. They look nothing alike.
Which Peanuts Character Are You Quiz
I didn't test to see which character I would be. My Auntie Jo has been calling me Peppermint Patti for a long, long time, I couldn't prove her wrong now- even though I always wanted to be the cute little red-headed girl instead.
The Barenaked Ladies have a blog
They impressed me at the Air Canada Centre last month. They told the audience to check out their blog.
I dutifully checked out their blog and it appears that they haven't peeked a boo since the day before their impressive showing at the concert for Toronto. See "Stars for Sars" in the Greatest Hits on the left over there....
Imagine being a real BNL fan. Going to that blogsite every day (I've gone twice since the concert, I'm not a Real Fan).
Poor Real Fans. "I wonder what Tyler is wearing today? I wonder if he'll swear on the blog again?" Nope. No Tyler, no Steve...No Body. Bare Naked Silence. The bitter disappointment of nothing. Like Charlie Brown getting a bag of rocks.
They impressed me at the Air Canada Centre last month. They told the audience to check out their blog.
I dutifully checked out their blog and it appears that they haven't peeked a boo since the day before their impressive showing at the concert for Toronto. See "Stars for Sars" in the Greatest Hits on the left over there....
Imagine being a real BNL fan. Going to that blogsite every day (I've gone twice since the concert, I'm not a Real Fan).
Poor Real Fans. "I wonder what Tyler is wearing today? I wonder if he'll swear on the blog again?" Nope. No Tyler, no Steve...No Body. Bare Naked Silence. The bitter disappointment of nothing. Like Charlie Brown getting a bag of rocks.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
OOOH KUBRICK BYTES
I just found a site which features sound clips from one of my favourite movies, Full Metal Jacket. That's pretty exciting, and silly...for a very nasty film about turning young men into killers. Great anti-war film.
When I say "one of my favourites" in relation to films, it is deceptive. I've seen a lot of films. I have a lot that I consider really good. It's easier (and more fun) to tell you my Un-Favourites.
Films That Are Supposed to be Great but I Think Were Crap
(in no particular order)
1. THE PIANO - The scenery was beautiful. Try ANGEL AT MY TABLE, another Jane Campion film, about NZ writer Janet Frame. Beautiful, intelligent, moving film.
2. THE ENGLISH PATIENT - Who are these people? Do they even like each other? Did anyone read the book? Yeah Right. Go read the book.
3. THE TRUMAN SHOW - Great concept, so saccharine...ugh.
4. TITANIC
5. DANCER IN THE DARK - manipulative, not enough justification for the emotional expectations this movie has of it's viewers, cheap.
I just found a site which features sound clips from one of my favourite movies, Full Metal Jacket. That's pretty exciting, and silly...for a very nasty film about turning young men into killers. Great anti-war film.
When I say "one of my favourites" in relation to films, it is deceptive. I've seen a lot of films. I have a lot that I consider really good. It's easier (and more fun) to tell you my Un-Favourites.
Films That Are Supposed to be Great but I Think Were Crap
(in no particular order)
1. THE PIANO - The scenery was beautiful. Try ANGEL AT MY TABLE, another Jane Campion film, about NZ writer Janet Frame. Beautiful, intelligent, moving film.
2. THE ENGLISH PATIENT - Who are these people? Do they even like each other? Did anyone read the book? Yeah Right. Go read the book.
3. THE TRUMAN SHOW - Great concept, so saccharine...ugh.
4. TITANIC
5. DANCER IN THE DARK - manipulative, not enough justification for the emotional expectations this movie has of it's viewers, cheap.
Bri & Sherri Gettin Married
Woo Hoo. I'm sitting here thinkin' about how cute they are (and they are disgustingly wonderfully cute in love people) while I burn a bazillion copies of their wedding CD. Here are two people in their early 30's who have found each other. A miracle right? I have a bigger miracle. They know who Dave Brubeck is. When I was younger I met a few other kids who knew who Brubeck was. They were snotfaces. Bri & Sherri are not snotfaces. Match made in heaven.
Woo Hoo. I'm sitting here thinkin' about how cute they are (and they are disgustingly wonderfully cute in love people) while I burn a bazillion copies of their wedding CD. Here are two people in their early 30's who have found each other. A miracle right? I have a bigger miracle. They know who Dave Brubeck is. When I was younger I met a few other kids who knew who Brubeck was. They were snotfaces. Bri & Sherri are not snotfaces. Match made in heaven.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Tubular Things
The boys really did do an excellent job shopping for the cottage food. Why we ended up with seven cucumbers instead of two cucumbers and five zucchini comes down to an honest mistake. They say it had nothing to do with the phallic nature of those particular vegetables. They claim the mistake had nothing to do with them not wanting to be seen over-handling vegetables of said shape, having to query regarding produce of that sort, or wondering how zucchini's got so big.
I know that not everyone can tell their produce apart. Even grown men with very high IQ's. It was terribly cute.
The boys really did do an excellent job shopping for the cottage food. Why we ended up with seven cucumbers instead of two cucumbers and five zucchini comes down to an honest mistake. They say it had nothing to do with the phallic nature of those particular vegetables. They claim the mistake had nothing to do with them not wanting to be seen over-handling vegetables of said shape, having to query regarding produce of that sort, or wondering how zucchini's got so big.
I know that not everyone can tell their produce apart. Even grown men with very high IQ's. It was terribly cute.
New Charlie's Angels
Redeems iteslf in my eyes by...
Gail leaning over and saying to me, just as Drew Barrymore is shown as a girl wrestler known as "A Lady Insane" (twist on Aladdin Sane) "See? That's why she reminds me of you." I'm not a wrestler, but I'll take it.
Crispin Glover. Just Crispin Hellion Glover.
It was fun having a crush on him after The River's Edge. Heartbreaking to be told by a girl I knew that I wasn't "cool enough" for him. Ah, teenage wildlife.
Redeems iteslf in my eyes by...
Gail leaning over and saying to me, just as Drew Barrymore is shown as a girl wrestler known as "A Lady Insane" (twist on Aladdin Sane) "See? That's why she reminds me of you." I'm not a wrestler, but I'll take it.
Crispin Glover. Just Crispin Hellion Glover.
It was fun having a crush on him after The River's Edge. Heartbreaking to be told by a girl I knew that I wasn't "cool enough" for him. Ah, teenage wildlife.
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
GO HOME LAKE
Back from four days on a lake. I swam every day. There were some stars to see, a lot of bugs.
A sign on the cottage road stated, "Use Road at Own Risk." Was that a dare? I got to know some good people better. There was a baby around, she was cool. Sleeping in the woods on a lake. I sleep best away from the city. Played cards and drank beer on the dock one night, then headed to bed after sunrise. Deep Woods Off melts nail polish. We learned that people who live on lakes will actually drive a boat to the marina, then a car into the city to go see strippers. 'Cause you know...Nature sucks. Babies are better than television. Food tastes better if you've been outdoors. I ran miles in the woods. Folks drive their boats faster than they should. It seems that seagulls will even eat soap with enthusiasm. Wearing a bikini isn't as traumatizing as when I was in highschool. Go figure.
We saw a black bear on our drive out to the main road. The car noise scared it towards one of our party who had been serenely painting by the side of the road. We had a scary moment of panic. It was strange. It was like a "Funniest Home Video" moment, watching Harv react to a bear running by him. There he was painting in his mosquito netting, absorbed in the day when a big bear went whoosing by him and down the hill. "Use Road at Own Risk."
I doubt I'll go running in the woods again without a partner. Bears won't mess with you in general, but being an anomaly myself - I figure it wise to leave room for anomalies.
Back from four days on a lake. I swam every day. There were some stars to see, a lot of bugs.
A sign on the cottage road stated, "Use Road at Own Risk." Was that a dare? I got to know some good people better. There was a baby around, she was cool. Sleeping in the woods on a lake. I sleep best away from the city. Played cards and drank beer on the dock one night, then headed to bed after sunrise. Deep Woods Off melts nail polish. We learned that people who live on lakes will actually drive a boat to the marina, then a car into the city to go see strippers. 'Cause you know...Nature sucks. Babies are better than television. Food tastes better if you've been outdoors. I ran miles in the woods. Folks drive their boats faster than they should. It seems that seagulls will even eat soap with enthusiasm. Wearing a bikini isn't as traumatizing as when I was in highschool. Go figure.
We saw a black bear on our drive out to the main road. The car noise scared it towards one of our party who had been serenely painting by the side of the road. We had a scary moment of panic. It was strange. It was like a "Funniest Home Video" moment, watching Harv react to a bear running by him. There he was painting in his mosquito netting, absorbed in the day when a big bear went whoosing by him and down the hill. "Use Road at Own Risk."
I doubt I'll go running in the woods again without a partner. Bears won't mess with you in general, but being an anomaly myself - I figure it wise to leave room for anomalies.
Ho-Leah
I knew I wasn't the only person that thinks that Leah McLaren is frighteningly vacuous. Here's a good rant from Accordion Guy.
I find it frustrating that such a simpering waif is supposedly speaking for her generation. My generation. Her kind is actually a very small percentage of the whole, created by a disposable society hung up on appearance.
The real man-made monsters are on the loose. They have waspy last names and aspire to be great. They aren't particularly deep or clever, yet want to be famous anyway. They think you should not leave the house until you get a decent pedicure, a trust fund, and a gaggle of insincere friends to support your illusions.
Wow, I'm pretty snotty about snobs.
I knew I wasn't the only person that thinks that Leah McLaren is frighteningly vacuous. Here's a good rant from Accordion Guy.
I find it frustrating that such a simpering waif is supposedly speaking for her generation. My generation. Her kind is actually a very small percentage of the whole, created by a disposable society hung up on appearance.
The real man-made monsters are on the loose. They have waspy last names and aspire to be great. They aren't particularly deep or clever, yet want to be famous anyway. They think you should not leave the house until you get a decent pedicure, a trust fund, and a gaggle of insincere friends to support your illusions.
Wow, I'm pretty snotty about snobs.
Thursday, July 10, 2003
JIGSAW
Oh, and a big thank you for the beautiful women and excellent man at Jigsaw for the freelance work!
Thank You...
You guys Rock.
Oh, and a big thank you for the beautiful women and excellent man at Jigsaw for the freelance work!
Thank You...
You guys Rock.
ALOHA COTTAGE
Going to Jacquie's family cottage on Go Home Lake. It won't be going home really, I'm a Soo Girl at heart....But it's sure is pretty there. The water is deep off the dock. I plan to lounge in the lake in a floating lounge chair. Hell, I'll make a "water diaper" out of a life jacket if I have to.
For those who have not experienced the water diaper, it's not what you think. You take a life jacket, put it on like pants...Put your legs in the arm holes with the back portion of the jacket going up your back. You can float in the water with a cocktail and a smoke no problem those babies, and you still get good mobility. Yeee-Ha!
Charades, euchre, making little bead necklaces for the girls, food, glorious food and.,..Well, it doesn't matter. I'm out of the Big Stinky City for a few days.
See you soon.
XOXOX
Going to Jacquie's family cottage on Go Home Lake. It won't be going home really, I'm a Soo Girl at heart....But it's sure is pretty there. The water is deep off the dock. I plan to lounge in the lake in a floating lounge chair. Hell, I'll make a "water diaper" out of a life jacket if I have to.
For those who have not experienced the water diaper, it's not what you think. You take a life jacket, put it on like pants...Put your legs in the arm holes with the back portion of the jacket going up your back. You can float in the water with a cocktail and a smoke no problem those babies, and you still get good mobility. Yeee-Ha!
Charades, euchre, making little bead necklaces for the girls, food, glorious food and.,..Well, it doesn't matter. I'm out of the Big Stinky City for a few days.
See you soon.
XOXOX
FORTUNE COOKIE
- Serious trouble will bypass you -
Yes. Well, it's the silly trouble that keeps kicking my ass
- Serious trouble will bypass you -
Yes. Well, it's the silly trouble that keeps kicking my ass
Cottage This Weekend
My list of non-food needs as follows:
Mr. Boozemen.
I'd like to request this:
24 Labatt 50
26 oz vodka (Stoli)
6 coolers -not smirnoff, maybe berry vex or anything less sweet that you may know of.
My list of non-food needs as follows:
Mr. Boozemen.
I'd like to request this:
24 Labatt 50
26 oz vodka (Stoli)
6 coolers -not smirnoff, maybe berry vex or anything less sweet that you may know of.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
DIAVOLA
I used to take the Ossington bus often. Every few weeks or so I'd see the oldest grifter in town get on the bus. She's an old Italian lady. As round as she is short, dressed in black toe to toe. She would barrel her way to the front of the line to board first. She'd grunt up the stairs slowly, look at the driver and then go sit down. The driver would ask for the fare. She pretended not to hear. That day's driver would raise his voice. She made a show of not hearing by getting out her prayer beads. Usually someone waiting to get on the bus, or better yet, a middle-aged woman near the front would offer to pay her ticket. I saw her pull that stunt at least ten times. One day the driver looked up as she boarded and said he wouldn't let her on. He knew her game. No ticket, no ride. She pretended not to get what he said and tried to go sit down. He wouldn't let her by. Then someone tried to pay her fare, then someone else. The driver explained that he'd been on this route for years and she always did this. She always got away with it, because someone always paid her fare. He was sick of it. She's a con. It was a very hot day. Sweat covered the driver's back. The old lady seemed immune to the heat. Being coated in black wool must work some kind of force field up. People were grumbling in the heat. I was thinking "man, this ole lady is a real messed up puta." I could see pangs of uncertainty begin in the face of the driver. People were looking at him like he was the bad guy. That sucked. He sat down and gave up.
The old lady had gotten herself a seat in the meantime. Some chump just trying to be nice paid her fare. Puta looked over at me. She scrunched her shoulders a little bit my way and started to squish her face into a "Well, what did I do?" kind of way. I narrowed my eyebrows and looked down them at her. I shook my fingers at her lightly and forked them out at her. I said one word to her quietly, "Malocchio." Her eyes widened in shock, she looked down at her prayer beads shaking her head and mumbling.
I wasn't really cursing her. I just like to use my limited Italian vocabulary in dramatic ways.
I may be going to hell in a bucket
But at least I'll enjoy the ride.
I used to take the Ossington bus often. Every few weeks or so I'd see the oldest grifter in town get on the bus. She's an old Italian lady. As round as she is short, dressed in black toe to toe. She would barrel her way to the front of the line to board first. She'd grunt up the stairs slowly, look at the driver and then go sit down. The driver would ask for the fare. She pretended not to hear. That day's driver would raise his voice. She made a show of not hearing by getting out her prayer beads. Usually someone waiting to get on the bus, or better yet, a middle-aged woman near the front would offer to pay her ticket. I saw her pull that stunt at least ten times. One day the driver looked up as she boarded and said he wouldn't let her on. He knew her game. No ticket, no ride. She pretended not to get what he said and tried to go sit down. He wouldn't let her by. Then someone tried to pay her fare, then someone else. The driver explained that he'd been on this route for years and she always did this. She always got away with it, because someone always paid her fare. He was sick of it. She's a con. It was a very hot day. Sweat covered the driver's back. The old lady seemed immune to the heat. Being coated in black wool must work some kind of force field up. People were grumbling in the heat. I was thinking "man, this ole lady is a real messed up puta." I could see pangs of uncertainty begin in the face of the driver. People were looking at him like he was the bad guy. That sucked. He sat down and gave up.
The old lady had gotten herself a seat in the meantime. Some chump just trying to be nice paid her fare. Puta looked over at me. She scrunched her shoulders a little bit my way and started to squish her face into a "Well, what did I do?" kind of way. I narrowed my eyebrows and looked down them at her. I shook my fingers at her lightly and forked them out at her. I said one word to her quietly, "Malocchio." Her eyes widened in shock, she looked down at her prayer beads shaking her head and mumbling.
I wasn't really cursing her. I just like to use my limited Italian vocabulary in dramatic ways.
I may be going to hell in a bucket
But at least I'll enjoy the ride.
Conveniently Sweet
The family that runs the convenience store about 111 paces away from my house are sweet people. The Mom found out that I got laid off. Now, everytime I go in they try to give me discounts. On gum. On Club Soda. On coffee.
That's pretty sweet.
The family that runs the convenience store about 111 paces away from my house are sweet people. The Mom found out that I got laid off. Now, everytime I go in they try to give me discounts. On gum. On Club Soda. On coffee.
That's pretty sweet.
Run
I like to run before the sun goes down. The last half hour of daylight is a good place to be. Dusk usually brings a breeze on the track down the road. That's my sweet spot.
There was something decadent about coming home from my run and getting in the wading pool to stretch.
I like to run before the sun goes down. The last half hour of daylight is a good place to be. Dusk usually brings a breeze on the track down the road. That's my sweet spot.
There was something decadent about coming home from my run and getting in the wading pool to stretch.
Jiggered Up
Due to some very positive viewer feedback, I was made aware of coding glitches on this fancyass example of blog design. As a result of said advice, I have made efforts to remedy these errors.
That is why the blog now looks worse.
Bear with me.
This is all new.
I'm off to bang my head against the wall.
I mean...Go for a dip in my lovely wading pool.
Due to some very positive viewer feedback, I was made aware of coding glitches on this fancyass example of blog design. As a result of said advice, I have made efforts to remedy these errors.
That is why the blog now looks worse.
Bear with me.
This is all new.
I'm off to bang my head against the wall.
I mean...Go for a dip in my lovely wading pool.
Jo Campbell is my boyfriend
"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
- Joseph Campbell
"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
- Joseph Campbell
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Freelance Work
Or: Little jobs I take until I get a 'real' job
Today I stood in Union Station handing out Attractions Ontario guides to people commuting. I haven't had to get attention in large crowds for many years. Sweet memories of goofy days living in a van and selling jewelry, food, and other stuff at concerts kept me going. Back then I used to yell happy things, like"Veggie burritos, only a dollar! Ice cold Sierra Nevada!" I can still yell very well.
A different pitch had to be used today. I noticed quickly that people pay more attention to me when I'm offering food and beer. Shouting, "Coupons! Fun things to do this summer. Your guide to summer fun!" just didn't do it.
Shouting, "Free Coupons!" worked frighteningly well. That's right folks, Free Coupons. Go figure.
I'm never doing that again. Unless I'm at a concert with beer, hanging out with happy people. Or you know, if I get paid lots of cash.
Or: Little jobs I take until I get a 'real' job
Today I stood in Union Station handing out Attractions Ontario guides to people commuting. I haven't had to get attention in large crowds for many years. Sweet memories of goofy days living in a van and selling jewelry, food, and other stuff at concerts kept me going. Back then I used to yell happy things, like"Veggie burritos, only a dollar! Ice cold Sierra Nevada!" I can still yell very well.
A different pitch had to be used today. I noticed quickly that people pay more attention to me when I'm offering food and beer. Shouting, "Coupons! Fun things to do this summer. Your guide to summer fun!" just didn't do it.
Shouting, "Free Coupons!" worked frighteningly well. That's right folks, Free Coupons. Go figure.
I'm never doing that again. Unless I'm at a concert with beer, hanging out with happy people. Or you know, if I get paid lots of cash.
Charlie's Angel's
Yeah, I saw it.
What can I say...
Drew Barrymore is goofy, I see all her movies.
Demi is scary.
Yeah, I saw it.
What can I say...
Drew Barrymore is goofy, I see all her movies.
Demi is scary.
PTA
I saw Punch Drunk Love last night.
I was going to get all Kevin Smith about Paul Thomas Anderson, but I'll just say....
Nice Colour Scheme.
I saw Punch Drunk Love last night.
I was going to get all Kevin Smith about Paul Thomas Anderson, but I'll just say....
Nice Colour Scheme.
Sunday, July 06, 2003
POOL
Last week Paco was going on about buying a pool. A nice little kiddie pool, just to, you know...Wet our feet.
"There's no room. You're cracked-up, fella."
"Come on. It'll be great"
"You're bonkers."
"Come on, wouldn't it be great?"
"It's like a pet or a plant, you have to water it and stuff."
"I'll take care of it."
"Ok, then."
Paco came home on Wednesday with a pool. Five feet around and about two feet high. Little fish and turtles on the side. He placed foam underneath and a tarp. He blew up the three ringed water circus patiently. He filled it with water. He even bought a thermometer for it.
Ok now we have a pool. Too bad my brother never visits with his wife and lovely daughters, then we'd be wholesome.
My landlady and her Mom came out to watch Paco set up the pool. Us girls sat around calling him funny names and watching. My landlady's Mom thinks Paco is some funny stuff. She just looks at him and starts to laugh. He has the same effect with children.
"He's just a big kid isn't he?"
"Oh no, he puts just as much hard work into balloon art, lego and role-playing games"
We've got a pool! I love the pool. It's cute. It's refreshing. Perfect after a run, or before breakfast, or while drinking beer.
Water is my favourite. Next summer, I want a lake in the back yard.
Last week Paco was going on about buying a pool. A nice little kiddie pool, just to, you know...Wet our feet.
"There's no room. You're cracked-up, fella."
"Come on. It'll be great"
"You're bonkers."
"Come on, wouldn't it be great?"
"It's like a pet or a plant, you have to water it and stuff."
"I'll take care of it."
"Ok, then."
Paco came home on Wednesday with a pool. Five feet around and about two feet high. Little fish and turtles on the side. He placed foam underneath and a tarp. He blew up the three ringed water circus patiently. He filled it with water. He even bought a thermometer for it.
Ok now we have a pool. Too bad my brother never visits with his wife and lovely daughters, then we'd be wholesome.
My landlady and her Mom came out to watch Paco set up the pool. Us girls sat around calling him funny names and watching. My landlady's Mom thinks Paco is some funny stuff. She just looks at him and starts to laugh. He has the same effect with children.
"He's just a big kid isn't he?"
"Oh no, he puts just as much hard work into balloon art, lego and role-playing games"
We've got a pool! I love the pool. It's cute. It's refreshing. Perfect after a run, or before breakfast, or while drinking beer.
Water is my favourite. Next summer, I want a lake in the back yard.
"Everyone has the right to be an ass, you just can't let the world judge you too much."- Maude
I entered the living room to find Paco watching Harold & Maude.
"Oh! That's one of my all-time favourite movies!"
My mother called. I told her that Paco was watching Harold and Maude.
"Oh! That's one of my all-time favourite movies!"
Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.
I entered the living room to find Paco watching Harold & Maude.
"Oh! That's one of my all-time favourite movies!"
My mother called. I told her that Paco was watching Harold and Maude.
"Oh! That's one of my all-time favourite movies!"
Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.
Friday, July 04, 2003
Steal Your Face
Many years ago, in what seems like another life... I was a little hippy chick who used to go around selling my handmade jewelry and seeing Grateful Dead shows. I had a messed up boyfriend, J The Evil Hippy. He was a bit crazy. I was living with my brother and his girlfriend toward the end of the relationship (Rich & Izzy are still together and have two pixiedelic daughters). My brother was saint about the whole thing and never punched J the Evil hippy once, though Izzy had to talk him down at times. I was young. I was silly. J was abusive, to himself and to those around him. I have some pretty interesting stories about our times and adventures together. It taught me that no matter what you try to do for someone else, you can't make them care about themselves if they don't want to.
One morning I got up and put some coffee on. I took my empty mug into the loo with me, just for security I guess. It was from my favourite Aunt, it had a funny cat on it and my name. I loved that mug. I looked in the mirror. My long wavy hair was braided in two parts with little pretend Pocahontas leather strips in it. Hippy chicks are not known for good fashion sense. I grabbed a pair of scissors from a basket and cut my braids off, just like that.
I walked down the hall and called J the Evil Hippy. I told him it was over. I hung up on him.
Izzy came down the hall. She saw me sitting on the wooden floor in the middle of the hallway. I was wearing a white nightgown I'd gotten in Mexico that Christmas. She saw that I'd cut my hair off. She could see my spine sticking out as I bunched up, hugging my knees. My empty mug with my name on it beside me, it's weird cat smiling up at me. The phone was ringing. I was staring at it, letting it ring.
She sat beside me picking my mug up as she did so.
"You want a coffee? You know, your face doesn't really appear until your second cup of coffee."
Many years ago, in what seems like another life... I was a little hippy chick who used to go around selling my handmade jewelry and seeing Grateful Dead shows. I had a messed up boyfriend, J The Evil Hippy. He was a bit crazy. I was living with my brother and his girlfriend toward the end of the relationship (Rich & Izzy are still together and have two pixiedelic daughters). My brother was saint about the whole thing and never punched J the Evil hippy once, though Izzy had to talk him down at times. I was young. I was silly. J was abusive, to himself and to those around him. I have some pretty interesting stories about our times and adventures together. It taught me that no matter what you try to do for someone else, you can't make them care about themselves if they don't want to.
One morning I got up and put some coffee on. I took my empty mug into the loo with me, just for security I guess. It was from my favourite Aunt, it had a funny cat on it and my name. I loved that mug. I looked in the mirror. My long wavy hair was braided in two parts with little pretend Pocahontas leather strips in it. Hippy chicks are not known for good fashion sense. I grabbed a pair of scissors from a basket and cut my braids off, just like that.
I walked down the hall and called J the Evil Hippy. I told him it was over. I hung up on him.
Izzy came down the hall. She saw me sitting on the wooden floor in the middle of the hallway. I was wearing a white nightgown I'd gotten in Mexico that Christmas. She saw that I'd cut my hair off. She could see my spine sticking out as I bunched up, hugging my knees. My empty mug with my name on it beside me, it's weird cat smiling up at me. The phone was ringing. I was staring at it, letting it ring.
She sat beside me picking my mug up as she did so.
"You want a coffee? You know, your face doesn't really appear until your second cup of coffee."
Thursday, July 03, 2003
WELSH RARE BIT
Or, a rare Welsh bit.
I wanted to learn more of the Welsh language so that I could read tales from the The Mabinogion in Welsh. Like it would make me more Welsh. I was born in Canada. I wanted to be born in Wales. I also wanted to be a faerie, so there you go.
Many people in Wales don't even speak Welsh. The only people I know personally who speak Welsh are dead relatives and two very genius yet troubled brothers who are drunk all the time and forget that I don't speak Welsh fluently...Which is very confusing. Learning Welsh in Toronto is weird. It's not like I'm gong to be gettin down with my Welsh crew from the Welsh club chanting "Plaid Cymru" in some pub at U of T.
Language is also use it or lose it to me. I'm not going to Wales anytime soon. I'm not going to move into a Welsh neighbourhood in Toronto, we're not that multicultural. I'll not be using any of the Welsh except to say hi to people who won't know what the hell I'm saying.
I'm not even officially bilingual to Canada's standard anymore. My French stinks. If I'm going to seriously get on another language, French it is then. My Great Gran Mandeville would be proud, with her knitting needles and her chain smoking, swearing in French....Yes. French before Welsh.
Of course that's after I read The Mabinogion, again. In Welsh. With a big fat Welsh/English dictionary in the other hand. I may not understand much of it, again. I'll try though. That's why we're all here, isn't it? To try stuff?
Or, a rare Welsh bit.
I wanted to learn more of the Welsh language so that I could read tales from the The Mabinogion in Welsh. Like it would make me more Welsh. I was born in Canada. I wanted to be born in Wales. I also wanted to be a faerie, so there you go.
Many people in Wales don't even speak Welsh. The only people I know personally who speak Welsh are dead relatives and two very genius yet troubled brothers who are drunk all the time and forget that I don't speak Welsh fluently...Which is very confusing. Learning Welsh in Toronto is weird. It's not like I'm gong to be gettin down with my Welsh crew from the Welsh club chanting "Plaid Cymru" in some pub at U of T.
Language is also use it or lose it to me. I'm not going to Wales anytime soon. I'm not going to move into a Welsh neighbourhood in Toronto, we're not that multicultural. I'll not be using any of the Welsh except to say hi to people who won't know what the hell I'm saying.
I'm not even officially bilingual to Canada's standard anymore. My French stinks. If I'm going to seriously get on another language, French it is then. My Great Gran Mandeville would be proud, with her knitting needles and her chain smoking, swearing in French....Yes. French before Welsh.
Of course that's after I read The Mabinogion, again. In Welsh. With a big fat Welsh/English dictionary in the other hand. I may not understand much of it, again. I'll try though. That's why we're all here, isn't it? To try stuff?
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
MY KICKASS RECIPE FOR EASY WHITE TRASH SALAD
A true culinary delight
What You Need
-At least two heads of broccoli
-Cheddar cheese, amount depends on taste, so does the type of cheddar
-Raisins, no kidding, about a cup of them, or to taste
-Pine nuts, about a tablespoon -or to your own taste, a chichi ingredient that you can skip if you want to keep it basic
-mayonnaise or my favourite, Miracle Whip
-One large clove of garlic, or to taste
-White vinegar
-black pepper
Chop the broccoli up nice and small. Do the same with the cheese. Toss them in a bowl together. Add raisins and pine nuts. In a separate bowl, place about two tablespoons of Mayo or Miracle Whip. Add enough vinegar to give the mix the consistency of hollandaise sauce when stirred together. Then add your very finely diced garlic. Stir it up, yo. Add this mix to the bowl of other goodies, making sure all is well coated with the sauce. Stick it in the fridge so the flavours gel and so that the raisins will get nice and soft if you've had to add hard ones.
I was shocked at how yummy this salad is. Now, I'm almost famous for it. Along with my black olive paste....Which is a whole other entry.
A true culinary delight
What You Need
-At least two heads of broccoli
-Cheddar cheese, amount depends on taste, so does the type of cheddar
-Raisins, no kidding, about a cup of them, or to taste
-Pine nuts, about a tablespoon -or to your own taste, a chichi ingredient that you can skip if you want to keep it basic
-mayonnaise or my favourite, Miracle Whip
-One large clove of garlic, or to taste
-White vinegar
-black pepper
Chop the broccoli up nice and small. Do the same with the cheese. Toss them in a bowl together. Add raisins and pine nuts. In a separate bowl, place about two tablespoons of Mayo or Miracle Whip. Add enough vinegar to give the mix the consistency of hollandaise sauce when stirred together. Then add your very finely diced garlic. Stir it up, yo. Add this mix to the bowl of other goodies, making sure all is well coated with the sauce. Stick it in the fridge so the flavours gel and so that the raisins will get nice and soft if you've had to add hard ones.
I was shocked at how yummy this salad is. Now, I'm almost famous for it. Along with my black olive paste....Which is a whole other entry.
Our Canada Day
Sidebar to Gucki - this should provide the very dirt you were looking to find regarding Paco. I expect no more emails or commentary from you stating that you are bored with my blog because there isn't enough dirt.
We kicked off a day of festivities by sleeping in really late. We then bailed on a barbecue I'd really been looking forward to because Paco had slept in his contacts & his eyes were really sore. I was too peeved to go alone, and feeling lumpy anyway. We watched Grosse Pointe Blank, Paco couldn't wear his contacts so sat with his face about 5 inches from the telly screen, squinting. He was in reality, scrying. He doesn't want me to think he is a Witchdoctor like that kid in his class, so he pretends he's watching television.
We then decided we were lumpy buggers who were going to get really fat if we didn't go for a run at the track down the road immediately following the movie. Paco tried on his contacts lenses and figured he was good to get around for at least a 4 mile jog. If you haven't gathered this by now, the dude is nearly blind without his contacts. It's the price he had to pay for all of his Witchdoctor JuJu. He doesn't wear glasses, also something to do with his Witchdoctoring practices.
Upon arriving at the track in the lovely twilight, we saw that some families were gathered around the long jump pit to ritualistically sacrifice money blown out of long tubes which explode into the sky dramatically, depending on how much money you stuff into it. These tubes are called Fireworks. Fire works. Paco knew all of this was going down (due to his scrying) even though he pretended to be surprised.
"Look honey, how wholesome."
Paco knew his mojo would protect him from a catastrophe involving the mislaunch of any Firework. He advised me to keep up to his pace, or risk impalement and personal injury from burning rocket-like objects launched at high velocity.
I favoured protection of myself through my magical musical headgear over the physical pain of actually keeping up with Paco. I watched him take off.
It was beautiful and very cool to run the track with cute little kids oooohing over Fireworks, innocently unaware of the dark magick of "financial sacrifice for your children's happiness" at work.
I noticed a young couple off to the side with their dog. It was a tiny little terrier type thing with Huge bulgey Eyes. It looked a little like a less-handsome Ernest Borgnine. I could hear them calling to it as I jogged closer to them. "Whose a good boy? Whose a good Boy? Tie is, yes, our little Tie Domi. That's who!" Wow. They named their dog after a hockey player. Cute.
In an alarming display of terrifying patriotism this couple were trying to get their dog to "Barkaioke" the Canadian National anthem "Oh Canada" in time to the Fireworks, whilst dancing on it's hind legs some kind of fevered can-can with what could have been a salsa influence. My protective headgear somewhat blanketed the barkawailing cacaphony which developed as the puppy started into it's routine. There was nothing I could do about the sight of quivering little Tie
shaking his booty and barking "O Canada."
The pyro-technicians were not prepared for any of this. Upon hearing the barkowailing of Little Tie, an already shaking hand lighting a roman candle reflexed to unnatural position. The Firework bent sideways, the torch fell to the ground. This started a fire which (of course) lit the whole heap of carelessly stacked Fireworks. Children started to cry, excited at the prospect of some really big booms. The parents were shocked that anyone would throw a dog into the sacrifice pile as it was a "paper money tube ritual night only," as stated in the semi-monthly neighbourhood Newsletter.
Meanwhile, Little Tie was indeed pinned between the fence and the rapidly smoldering heap of Fireworks. His helpless owners were trying to get their precious little baby dog to jump over the flames and run to safety.
Paco casually strutted up to the scene, having barely broken a sweat after 18 laps around the track in five minutes. He quickly assessed the situation. Taking two strides only, he leapt over the giant (I'm talkin' 4 feet) curtain of flame to save the dog. Little Tie wasn't having it. He tried to bite Paco at every turn. Paco had no choice but to back up and punt the dog over the heap of explosives with his foot.
Paco then proceeded to put the fire out the way that only a man with a large bladder can.
The neighbourhood parents turned their heads in shock and outrage. They paid good money for those boomsticks, dammit. Now the booming was over, all due to those meddling kids. Off they went to grumble at the dog couple. Meanwhile, the dog couple were thoroughly embedded in the rather thick shrubberies on the other side of the football field, trying to find where Little Tie landed.
I swear I heard the dog barking the anthem somewhere down the street...but farbeit from me to interfere with municipal affairs.
I continued my run. I finally got to enjoy the rest of twilight as I'd planned. Had me a nice, peaceful run with no distractions. We left the track for home when Paco finished extinguishing the fire twenty minutes later.
I asked him about his Witchdoctoring mojo.
He said " Now that I can no longer conceal my powers from you, my love... I need you to know that I always use my powers for good."
So Gucki, I hope this doesn't disappoint you. I know it's not really dirt. The truth is, there is no dirt.
Unless you consider super powers dirt. It's your call.
Sidebar to Gucki - this should provide the very dirt you were looking to find regarding Paco. I expect no more emails or commentary from you stating that you are bored with my blog because there isn't enough dirt.
We kicked off a day of festivities by sleeping in really late. We then bailed on a barbecue I'd really been looking forward to because Paco had slept in his contacts & his eyes were really sore. I was too peeved to go alone, and feeling lumpy anyway. We watched Grosse Pointe Blank, Paco couldn't wear his contacts so sat with his face about 5 inches from the telly screen, squinting. He was in reality, scrying. He doesn't want me to think he is a Witchdoctor like that kid in his class, so he pretends he's watching television.
We then decided we were lumpy buggers who were going to get really fat if we didn't go for a run at the track down the road immediately following the movie. Paco tried on his contacts lenses and figured he was good to get around for at least a 4 mile jog. If you haven't gathered this by now, the dude is nearly blind without his contacts. It's the price he had to pay for all of his Witchdoctor JuJu. He doesn't wear glasses, also something to do with his Witchdoctoring practices.
Upon arriving at the track in the lovely twilight, we saw that some families were gathered around the long jump pit to ritualistically sacrifice money blown out of long tubes which explode into the sky dramatically, depending on how much money you stuff into it. These tubes are called Fireworks. Fire works. Paco knew all of this was going down (due to his scrying) even though he pretended to be surprised.
"Look honey, how wholesome."
Paco knew his mojo would protect him from a catastrophe involving the mislaunch of any Firework. He advised me to keep up to his pace, or risk impalement and personal injury from burning rocket-like objects launched at high velocity.
I favoured protection of myself through my magical musical headgear over the physical pain of actually keeping up with Paco. I watched him take off.
It was beautiful and very cool to run the track with cute little kids oooohing over Fireworks, innocently unaware of the dark magick of "financial sacrifice for your children's happiness" at work.
I noticed a young couple off to the side with their dog. It was a tiny little terrier type thing with Huge bulgey Eyes. It looked a little like a less-handsome Ernest Borgnine. I could hear them calling to it as I jogged closer to them. "Whose a good boy? Whose a good Boy? Tie is, yes, our little Tie Domi. That's who!" Wow. They named their dog after a hockey player. Cute.
In an alarming display of terrifying patriotism this couple were trying to get their dog to "Barkaioke" the Canadian National anthem "Oh Canada" in time to the Fireworks, whilst dancing on it's hind legs some kind of fevered can-can with what could have been a salsa influence. My protective headgear somewhat blanketed the barkawailing cacaphony which developed as the puppy started into it's routine. There was nothing I could do about the sight of quivering little Tie
shaking his booty and barking "O Canada."
The pyro-technicians were not prepared for any of this. Upon hearing the barkowailing of Little Tie, an already shaking hand lighting a roman candle reflexed to unnatural position. The Firework bent sideways, the torch fell to the ground. This started a fire which (of course) lit the whole heap of carelessly stacked Fireworks. Children started to cry, excited at the prospect of some really big booms. The parents were shocked that anyone would throw a dog into the sacrifice pile as it was a "paper money tube ritual night only," as stated in the semi-monthly neighbourhood Newsletter.
Meanwhile, Little Tie was indeed pinned between the fence and the rapidly smoldering heap of Fireworks. His helpless owners were trying to get their precious little baby dog to jump over the flames and run to safety.
Paco casually strutted up to the scene, having barely broken a sweat after 18 laps around the track in five minutes. He quickly assessed the situation. Taking two strides only, he leapt over the giant (I'm talkin' 4 feet) curtain of flame to save the dog. Little Tie wasn't having it. He tried to bite Paco at every turn. Paco had no choice but to back up and punt the dog over the heap of explosives with his foot.
Paco then proceeded to put the fire out the way that only a man with a large bladder can.
The neighbourhood parents turned their heads in shock and outrage. They paid good money for those boomsticks, dammit. Now the booming was over, all due to those meddling kids. Off they went to grumble at the dog couple. Meanwhile, the dog couple were thoroughly embedded in the rather thick shrubberies on the other side of the football field, trying to find where Little Tie landed.
I swear I heard the dog barking the anthem somewhere down the street...but farbeit from me to interfere with municipal affairs.
I continued my run. I finally got to enjoy the rest of twilight as I'd planned. Had me a nice, peaceful run with no distractions. We left the track for home when Paco finished extinguishing the fire twenty minutes later.
I asked him about his Witchdoctoring mojo.
He said " Now that I can no longer conceal my powers from you, my love... I need you to know that I always use my powers for good."
So Gucki, I hope this doesn't disappoint you. I know it's not really dirt. The truth is, there is no dirt.
Unless you consider super powers dirt. It's your call.