PINEAPPLE RING

I'm psyched for the plane. I can do it man.

An old friend of mine is a pilot. He had good advice. Hot air rises, cool air descends. Picture the plane like a boat on waves. If you think of yourself as in a boat on the water bouncing up and down on the swell of the waves you would not be too far off...Ok, I 'll try that.

An article I read helped too. The visualization of a plane in the air being like a pineapple ring in a bowl of jello was funny enough for me to loosen up.

I'll be chanting: Jello- pineapple-boat-waves, Dave lands planes five times a day over and over again if I need to. Also, air has mass, air has mass.

I have pills for a back up. Sad but true. It's all about the assurance. It is also in the interest of other passengers who may not want to hear me hyper-ventilating if I start to freak out. Which I won't do.

Cause I'm cool like Berretta

BRI & SHERRI ARE CUTE

Quote from the bride to be...

"Years and years ago I heard this fabulous (my favorite in fact) jazz song.
At the time, I never asked what the song was called or who it was by. :O(
I have been to numerous music stores and talked to many many people about
this song. Nobody knew what the heck I was talking about, I'd try and hum
it and sing it a bit and everyone looked strangely at me. I knew the song,
but didnt' know who it was done by. Then one day Im talking with Bri about
it and he recognizes the song!!!!! I nearly attacked him!! Anyways he
said, oh that's dave brubek, take five. We downloaded the song immediately. Everyday
I am reminded of how perfect he is for me. And that's the story!"

WHAT IF I START SCREAMING AND PEE MY PANTS?

Tomorrow I get on a plane for the first time in...Eight years or more.

The last airplane trip I took was on a Dash 8 ( like this). It was a simple flight from Toronto to Sault Ste. Marie. I'd been flying in tiny bush planes and on large commercial type jet since I was a wee gaffer. There was NO FEAR. No fear until a 50 minute hell ride many summers ago. I was on my way to visit my folks and my best friend who was visiting from Winnipeg. I was excited.

The plane shook the whole flight. Shook like the wings were going to tear off because the props were too heavy.
It was frighteningly loud. The sound of impending death taunting as a matter of fact.
The plane was doing a lot of that ever-so-reassuring air pocket diving.

I was a little freaked. Oh, I was quiet. I breathed through it. I know I was trying not to whimper. When we landed my eyes were teary. My Mother took a look at me and said, " Oh Joany, why are you so upset? We just saw you a few months ago."That was comedy.

People told me stories about what great planes Dash 8's are and all that rot. I was going to take the grey dog home instead. I got on the plane anyway, to face my fear. It was a much better ride on the way back to Toronto. Still, I was ruined.

Tomorrow we fly to Edmonton for Bri and Sherri's wedding. I'm going to the doctor in a few minutes to see if I can get a pill to take in case I start having a freak out. That's comedy as well. Logically, I think flying is totally cool. My reasoning is good and all, yet I am worried that I may start hyper-ventilating or something. It's really not very natural to go hurtling through the air in a metal box. I mean...I'm cool. It's cool. Everything is cool. I'm definitely getting on the plane, I know I have to face my aversion and all of that rot.

I am unsure as to whether I can guarantee not getting wobbly.

If anyone has advice, pills, or pill advice... Let me know!

COMMENTS

There is now a fresh and tasty "comments" feature for your spewing pleasure.

How exciting...

Perhaps I will write something provocative.
Like that one time when I wrote about how when I was a little girl I thought that all dogs were boys and all cats were girls.
You know, all of that exciting stuff I love to get all political about.

PACO DAY PART TWO


BOSTON

That's right, we went to see Boston at the Molson Amphitheatre. I get to hang out on the lawn there, which makes it my favourite venue in Toronto.

Boston's first album was released in 1-9-7-6. That's right kids. So, I was six, whatever. We've all gone through some changes over the years.

On tour promoting their new album Corporate America, Boston certainly weren't old guys who should just give it up, not by a long shot. The show was all live. No recording, no mumbo jumbo behind the curtains. Just a great crew and a great set, which included the trademark Boston spaceship over the stage in the third act.

Interesting as individuals and diversely talented, Boston put on a very good show for their fans.

Highlights for me were:
- The wasted folks dancing up a storm, who I could tell were in highschool when "More Than a Feeling" first hit the airwaves.
- When singing the trademark cheesecorn song "Amanda," Brad Delp covered his heart briefly and make a goofy face.
-Yeti's would cheer loudly every time the camera panned to the band's new member Kimberly Dahme in her tighty whitey shirt.
- Tom Scholz's keyboard solo wizardry of wierdness.
-The smell of much, much mary jane.
-Paco telling me that he'd always wanted to see Boston.


We had a really good time. We walked for a long while, amid the throngs of folk coming out of the Ex and the jiggered Boston fans. We stood and watched fireworks just off of the Gardiner Expressway standing on the grass as traffic zoomed by us. Then we closed our eyes and we slipped away....

SPEAKING OF SATANIC

I realize that Nike sells shoes made in "developing nations" by exploited, impoverished, and endangered workers who make little money to us North Americans who have little care or knowledge regarding life outside of our warm little bubble of selfishness.

SPELLCHECK

I really like the fact that my Blogger spellchecker thinks that I should have replaces "Katana's" with "Satanic."

DAY OF THE PACO

Yesterday was Paco's birthday. He decided to honour the occasion by running a 10k. The guy is an animal. A great run, beating his last 10k time by over five minutes. Did I mention that Paco just started running again in June after a fifteen year hiatus? This was his third 10 k race since. He will go competitive soon, no doubt.

It's those swanky new 9 oz. birthday racing shoes. We got him Nike Air Zoom Katana's. He returned to the house stating, "I own the road in these shoes." Owning the road is good. You'd better own the road if you are wearing such disco looking shoes. They have gold on them, shiny metallic gold. They came with a mini disco ball. The shame here is that I can't find a good picture of the Katana's and we don't have a camera. Damn. They look something like this, but with gold and no heel. More like these but with gold overlay not blue and gold on the laces too.

YEEEEEPAAAAAA!

Sylvia and Justin had a baby girl on Thursday morning!

A smooth delivery... Mom, Dad and cherub spawn are all doing very well.

Seven pounds and twelve ounces.

Welcome Rheanna Irie!
You Groovy Little Love Bean.

We go to see the baby and her folks today.

Auntie Joan is verrry excited!

AMOY YUROPEO KA

I rather enjoy what The Accordion Guy has to say. Joey De Villa is Mr. Genial Geeky Gonzo Guy most of the time. Then it happens. "BANF!!" He gets all sassy.

I learned some fine Filipino naughty talk in this battle wherein The Accordion Guy fights arrogant perception and the stinky, spoiled North American attitude that many of us have.

Championing the Anti-Idiotarian movement and entertaining the masses with NIN accordion stylings, Joey should inspire even the lamest jackass into a bit of thought, humour, or better yet, action.

I CAN SEE YOUR BUD CRACK, DUUUUUDE

Bree fails to see the obvious joke of a whacky American man in a position of power.

John P. Walters is joking isn't he?

Someone please tell me he is joking...

I mean, our bud is grand and everything but hardly a threat. Well, maybe not true. A few tokes of the good ole "wheelchair weed" and I simply turn into a psycho!. Smiling, enjoying myself, being honest, maybe even doing a little dancing. Oh yeah sometimes, if I got really high, I would eat too much sugar and then I'd feel really weird. I have a low sugar tolerance. Oh! I forgot about the time I got really baked and sat around a campfire singing songs, staring into the fire and gazing at the stars. CRIMINAL! Pot will lead you down the capital "D" devil's path, for sure. Especially the BC powerbud.

HEY!

Someone thinks I'm cool.
Interesting.

I GO FURTHER, FASTER

Finally got real running shoes to go with my real running shorts and my real running shirt. EEEEEEEK. It feels funny to be wearing special gear for athletics. Shudder. Feels a bit strange.

I see plenty folks who deck themselves out in expensive athletic gear from head to toe. Folks who do no such thing as exercise. They must be so lazy that they only wear the most trendy, really comfy jockwear because it makes it easier for them to do nothing athletic whatsoever. A pet peeve well worth ranting on. It's like dressing up as a fireman everyday even if you aren't a fireman. That sort of thing would be more interesting to me. You know, just seeing people randomly dressed up as different things. Nurse, coffee joint employee, valet. Park your car? Hmf! What do you take me for...A Valet?I figure if you're going to be full of bs about your lifestyle with your wardrobe, you may as well be inventive.

My first 5k is Sunday. I'm pretty psyched.

MY NAME

Ok, so I used my first name in my last post.
Referring to myself as FG or what-have-you was just silly bugging me.

Paco (not his real name), however, shall remain Paco (not his real name). It should be his real name anyway. Suits him like a big bushy moustache and cop glasses suit any man, it does.

SANTY

We were casting kids for a confectionery brand commercial today. A very cute, adorably geeky little boy named Stuart stopped me out in the hallway.

"Excuse Me," He said, in a barely audible tone.

"Hey, Stuart, what's up?"

"Um."

This was weird. The kid could barely contain himself. He was wriggling. Something was going on.

"Do you have a big, exciting question to ask me?" I said, in a tone which hardly suppressed how darling I was finding this kid.

"Joan... Does Santa Claus live here?" He was really excited and trying very hard to contain himself.

"Pardon me?"

Wow. That was a weird question. I looked behind me. In our inner room was a coat rack. On that coat rack was a Santa coat. We had rented some Santa gear for a casting this week and it was sitting around the office. Not one of us adults thought at all about a kid seeing these things.

"Does Santa live here?"

"Oh...No Stuart. Sorry, man."

Stuart looked distressed.

"Well, Santa gave us one of his old coats to play dress up with. He knows that a lot of actors come here, so thought we would like to have it. Which was so nice of him to do for us."

"Oh."

His Mom called him back into the waiting room. He was looking at me with big huge happy eyes. I was weirded out. Part of me was tempted to be more-than-slightly evil to cute little Stuart by telling him all about Santa. Very horrid of me, I know...But so funny and evil and terrible at the same time....Like opening a car door on a cyclist. Just for the record, I'm a cyclist and don't own a car, I still giggle a little when I think of people banging into things though.

So, I did right by little Stuart in the short term at least. Kids don't audition well after having their illusions, fantasies, parental control manipulation devices, and hopes smashed into little tiny bits by mischievous casting people.

CRAZY

Why, yes I did karioke publicly for the first time this weekend.

Details to follow....

Being a huge Bowie fan from about the age of eight, these lyrics came to my head last night during the Blackout.

"Get me off the streets
(get some protection)
Get me on my feet
(get some direction)
Hot air gets me into a blackout
Oh, get me off the streets
Get some protection
Oh get me on my feet (wo-ooh!)

While the streets block off
Getting some skin exposure to the blackout
(get some protection)
Get me on my feet
(get some direction, wo-ooh!)
Oh get me on my feet
Get me off the streets
(get some protection)"

Lyrics from Blackout, the album, Low.

That was it for romantic thought during the blackout. Work was stressed as everyone has deadlines. Getting home was a horrific thought. Paco (not his real name) and I were working close enough to one another in this big city that he valiantly came to my rescue on foot. The girls at work thought that was pretty cute. Paco and I were stumped as to how to get home. Taxis were in high demand at this point. Fortunately we have friends who live in the area. We decided see if they were home. It turned into a beautiful barbecue event. The party grew considerably throughout the evening. Our hosts are indeed lovely folks. By ten thirty Paco and I decided to attempt finding a cab to take us home. It was hard to resist the offer to sleep on their hammock, underneath the stars, duty called. We had to unplug our gear and feed the cat. We landed a taxi much sooner than anticipated. A long, memorable ride home unfolded. Our driver was a lovely man. We spotted electric lights in little pockets of the city. We became slightly embarrassed as we realized we had actually clapped.

A long drive up Vaughan Road seemed much like a cruise up a country lane. The stars twinkled 'hellos' at us. Then our cab was pelted by not-yet-ripe fruit, shattering the illusion that this was a merry event.

Paco and I set up at home quickly. Our house is very hot without our rinky-dink window sized air conditioner working in the bedroom window. We lay sweating, trying to sleep. I woke once to Paco putting something wet over my torso. The dear man had wet some towels in attempt to assuage the heat. It was a fitful night. We woke to no power. I got a call form work. Drat my old-fashioned telephone! They had power, they wanted me there. I must admit it was exciting, however tired I was. Work is cool in temperature. Electricity is entertaining.

I sit in front of the computer with a Labatt 50. Relaxing, finally. Buuuurp.

Is it Celestial?

I do not know what it is about you that makes me wax and wane

pure simple unknown

like moon or stars or anyone

I do not know how you do me into orbiting your throne


Another damn poem I wrote, years ago. Cheers.

DON'T BOTHER WORKIN IT WITH ME, I'VE GOT NO PULL

I am freelancing for a Casting Agency for all of this week and next. Part of my job has consisted of making sure that actors have themselves together before auditioning.

I've been saying, "Shhhhhh..." A lot.

Actors like to talk loud. I'm also learning how actors seem to blame their agent for everything that may go wrong for them. Tip for actors - the Casting Director doesn't want to hear it unless they ask to hear it.

Also, actors flirt a lot, tend to socialize well, and seem mostly very nice. Some of them are as dumb as bricks, but you can get that anywhere. If any of you act or want to act - I recommend taking some classes.

Addendum: As a former agent, I can say (with knowledge of all ugly underbellies) that I do love and admire actors. Acting professionally takes a lot of drive. The constant rejection and dissection would make me crazy. That is why I stopped acting a long time ago, I knew my tender young ego would be seriously harmed.

Darren Barefoot has linked to the above entry.

He makes a great point regarding the imbalance of female to male actors in the industry and how many more roles there are for men than women. A horrible part of being an agent (which was a mostly great carreer) for me was constantly having to remind women actors that they have to look a certain way (stick figure with boobs). Most of the few female roles out there require very slender gals who also happen to be "fabulous" looking.

Every actor knows what they are getting into. They have the choice to leave the industry if they find it unfair. It still bothered me greatly on a personal level to know I had to tell a girl that losing weight or dying her hair a certain colour would better her chances of getting seen for parts. I would have been a bad agent for not telling my actors how to get parts. Men get away with a lot more in appearance, tend to be less organized and prepared and usually have way more (and way more interesting) roles. This is not meant as a slight to men, it is simply the industry at large.

However, most Casting Directors love an actor who is prepared, who is open and who is constantly working at bettering their craft. A good actor will get called in by Casting Directors who want their clients to see talent that they believe in personally.

I have learned that many people (and fledgling actors!) do not realize that it takes many, many years of 'paying dues' for most actors to get anywhere at all. In cities like Toronto, everyone knows each other. They call it Networking. I call it doing what you love with other people doing what they love.

TIPS FOR ACTORS BETWEEN ACTING GIGS
- work on sets doing something other than acting. Volunteer at first if you have to, it will pay off in the end. Everyone likes to see someone who is not afraid to work hard and isn't too snotty to lend a hand.
-Find an agent that doesn't intimidate you. It is imperative that you trust your agent, your career is in their hands. Don't stay with anyone who doesn't have the time to explain things to you. Don't sign with anyone who has a "Start Up fee." That fee is actually the " We Suck, Pay Our Rent" fee.
-Act in student films, you will get something down on your resume and learn how things work (or shouldn't work) on set
-Do some writing, or producing, whatever
-Put together a show, film or something
-Stay active in theatre
-Get a lot of exercise, it's good for the mind and keeps you feeling springy
-Take acting classes and workshops
-Be genuine

Acting is not easy. My heart goes out to anyone who has been in that audition room, it's a tough business.

PUT ON A HAPPY FACE

I have spent most of my life trying to find something that won't give me hives, or a rash, or make me break out when I use it to wash my face. About six months ago, I started to use Spectro Jel, with NeoStrata products for hydration. What a difference. My face is so happy.

I'm blogging about it in case there are other tortured souls suffering from the affliction of allergic dermis out there who need relief.

I CAN BREATHE

Did I mention that I love freelance work?

It goes something like this: I walk into to your office fresh as a f*cking daisy's bum, every day you want me to come in to work for you. I'm all perky and funny and mostly on the ball. Why? Well, it's due to the fact that I been hanging out and being groovy for most of the summer. I'm all recharged and good to go.

FUN HITS

Someone found my site last night by typing this question into Dogpile.

Are smart girls kinkier?

If you have to ask a search engine a direct question, you are not smart enough to find out if brainy chicks dig a little sub/dom or what-have-you.

SURRENDER

I think the real reason Anakin went to the Dark Side was knowing how badly the prequel films were going to be.

See Anakin promote succumbing to the dark side.

Link via Zenie

IT'S LIKE, MAGNETIC, DUDE

We have little bar magnet thingies on our fridge. The other day I was stacking the magnets on top of each other and felt the crazy pull/push of opposing poles resisting one another. I got a fizzy 'ba-joingy" lightning arc up each arm. I expressed the weirdness like so, "Waaaa - aaaaw!" I sounded much like Bee-Jork in hear "Oh So Quiet" song.
Paco looked at me in disbelief.
Me: What?
Paco nicely explained how magnets work to me. I knew this already - yet had forgotten "how crazy it feels."
Paco was trying not to laugh at me, "Friggin Hippy Chick."

Doesn't anyone else feel how weird that is? Am I the only person who feels the poles averting so strongly?

Maybe it is because I do Reiki. Perhaps this is why watches stop working within weeks of me wearing them. Perhaps this is why I am so 'vibe' oriented. I'm 'sensitive.' I like to put my hands over plants and feel their energies.

It's true. I'm Miss Earthy Flaky Pants coming to crystallize your Consciousness, duuuude.

You all know I'm a kook, so I'm not too embarrassed. I'm not Crazy or anything. Next week I'll tell the true story about talking to the big rock in my yard when I was four years old.

I'm So Geeky...I mean COOL

I knew it, but didn't want to brag.
Now that I've taken the test, you can all plainly see that I am a Gryffindor.


Gryffindor! Fun-loving and ballsy down to the last
detail, you follow rules when it's convenient
for you and never turn down an opportunity to
par-tay. You're loud, mischievous, and a little
naive at times, but never let your awesome
self-confidence waver. Like Slytherin, you too
appreciate the finer things in life...just in a
very...different way.


A More Unique Hogwarts Sorting Quiz
brought to you by Quizilla

URBAN OUT BITTERS

I have a Love / Hate (the Love is Here & the Hate is Here) relationship with Urban Outfitters. I go to the Sale racks. I know that the stuff is overpriced. Do I go to Suzy Shier and buy their mainly lower quality, not very hip, shite? Do I go and support my local environmentally-friendly designer who is just scraping by, help them out by spending all of the money that I don't have on a shirt?

I'm not spending 50 bucks on a T-Shirt unless it's to help sick children or cure hives or whatnot. Nope. I don't like trendy clothes either. This is funny considering I do like to shop at Urban Outfitters, which seems to be a major Little Urban Hipster store. I amend my statement on trendy clothes, I don't like to look trendy. I don't even like it to look like I shop. Oh, this old thing, had it for years, yeah, I was cool before y'all knew what it meant....

Every now and again I love to buy something new. Something that hasn't been resurrected, reconditioned, resconstructed, retrofitted or imported from India and made out of fine, fine silk that I will ruin within seconds of purchase.

I used to hear girls saying that shopping was "therapeutic." I thought that was a bullshit line invented to justify more shoes. Well, it is and it isn't. Treats are good. We need treats.

So, Urban Outfitters got some of my cash today for being smart enough to overprice funky items that I want to buy. It was all on sale though (so I 'm not a huge massive whore, just a big tart). I feel fine about it now.

Most importantly, I look hot.
Sometimes it's ok to treat yourself to a completely superficial reality.

Mmmm...Dirty

Princess Superstar says that she's Kinkier than Pubic Hair. Master of changing and arranging, Kool Keith raps with the Princess on this song. Introducing himself with, " I heard you were talkin' about my ass," the song is a dirty rapping sex attack. Keith n' Me is dirty. Princess Superstar is Wet Wet Wet. Nasty dirty trollop. Yum.

EVIL DEAD- The Musical

Sam said, "Suuure you can turn it into a musical, kid!" That's it folks, George Reinblatt wrote EVIL DEAD THE MUSICAL playing here in Toronto this August. Who would have thought?

"I knew George before he started chatting with Mr. Bruce Campbell and that crazy Raimi fella...."

BRIDAL SHOWER

Bride gift opening happened throughout the day. Mine was the last to be opened. It was late, we sat around an outdoor fireplace. A few girls were lost to alcohol and exhaustion. I saw the bride-to-be start to open the gift bag from across the fire. First came the pretty camisole which was immediately donned and looked fantastic. Whew. Tara tossed the used wrapping paper into the fire. Very efficient. There was more in the gift bag. I turned to chat with Donna, missing the rest of the gift opening. Tara thanked me for the candles. The rest went something like this:

Me:"Hey T, what about the fancy underpanties?"
Tara: "There were no panties."
Me: "Oh yeah, you got sassy panties!"
Tara " There were no panties in this bag."
Me: "Yes. Three pairs of tiny naughty panties wrapped in tissue paper."
Tara: "There are no panties here."
Me: "That's because....YOU THREW THEM INTO THE FIRE!!"

We were all laughing pretty hard, yet Tara was still sad.

Tara: "I'm so sorry, I feel horrible."
Me: " It's ok. It was a sacrifice."
Tara: "A sacrifice?"
Me: " Yeah...to... the... Gods of Sodomy!"
I DON'T BELIEVE I SAID THAT.
Me: "No! Not Sodomy! Love, the Gods of Love. The Gods of Debauchery. The Gods of...I can't believe I just said that! "

A sacrifice to the Eros is lovely and fitting for a bridal shower party.
I am now The Supreme Jackass of Saying Stupid Things. Pass the wine.

LUMPY PEOPLE

We take the time to Lump.
Lumping consists of sitting on the couch (not upright), and watching movies.

Shanghai Knights ~ An example of classic lumping material. I always enjoy Owen Wilson. Jackie Chan smiles like a little boy. Goofy.
Solaris~ A pleasant surprise.
Daredevil~I used to read Daredevil the comic, it was great. I watched this movie trying to pretend I knew nothing about Daredevil. This helped a bit, the movie was very bad. Still watchable for me due to my love of the geeky, action-comic genre. Ben Affleck is not Daredevil. Jon Favreau and Joe Pantoliano, what waste of excellent talent.
Death Star Repairman ~Starring Sean Browning

SUPERHUMAN

Ran three continuous miles on Friday. That's one more delicious mile than before. Am I proud? Nah. I will be running my first 5k in September. I'm hoping to do a half marathon by spring. It could happen.

SEEING THINGS

I lost my glasses about four years ago. I keep forgetting to go buy some glasses. Paco and I went to look at frames yesterday. I look bad in glasses. Very bad. They usually leave me ending up looking like a bug, an alien, or a truly unsexy librarian.

My prescription is fairly weak. I can obviously function without glasses, yet I long to see the finer details. I miss seeing the intricate definition of leaves on a tree, the fascination of markings on a butterflies back, the outline body of the little rabbit I am about to run over in the dark because I can't see a damn thing.