Piniatas! Loot bags! Board games! Clowns! Jason's Krystal! Santy Claus! Happy Meals for all! What could be better? Hmmm? Nothing, that's what. Suckas are missing out.
Party Poopers
Three cheers for people who will be sadly missed--hip hip hurrah!
Some people might say (not me, but some people) that in moving to stinky Victoria said somebodies will be losing out on all the fun here in the Hammer/Dundas. I mean, seriously... Who moves to Victoria? I'm pretty sure only old people and people who like to take "strolls" in "gardens" and people that look like THIS GUY move to Victoria.
I mean, you might as well move to Manitoba. And for those who know me, that's not saying much, let me tell ya. The pariah of the prairies. The make-shift province. The awkward guy at the party. Manitoba. Even the name is icky... Manitoba... The provincial equivalent of brown.
p.s. And don't think I've forgotten about your Judas-ing, Free Samples... Betraying me on New Years... Punk!
Name Change
Attention everyone! Attention! I'd like to make an announcement!
*Clears throat*
Poomobile's name has officially been changed. To Pimpmobile.
That's it. Okay, back to your regularly scheduled lurking.
Bizarro Christmas
Don't get me wrong, it was a great Christmas. But it was different, no doubts 'bout that. Something I'm going to have to get used to. But old habits are hard to break, and certain traditions held strong. I hope she knows I'm happy in my pink and green plaid pajamas--all starchy and crunchy and new smelling, straight from the box onto me. They'll keep me warm here in my strange bed. Nevertheless, I'm missing both of my peanuts tonight.
Merry Christmas, Everybody!
I know I've always told you that 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' is my favorite Chirstmas movie. But it's really all a sham. I'm a liar. I'm a Christmas movie phoney.
My true favorite is no classic, and it's certianly not a box-office ringer. No fancy animation or clamation. No Yukon Cornelius'. No Rusty, or Clark, or Audrey. No Whoville or Frosty. And I guarantee none of you blog lurkers will have seen it.
Basically, my gramma bought Amy and I this old cartoon VHS tape when we were small, and we still have it. It became this huge tradition to watch it when we went to her place on boxing day. In and amongst the cheesy Humpty Dumpty and Mickey sketches, lay gold, Jerry. Gold. It's called 'Christmas Comes But Once A Year.' And I've found it on YouTube.
I'm so happy, I'm peeing my pants. My favorite part might be the vacuum cleaner pony. Or the umbrella tree. I'm just not sure. So, I hope you like it (*scuffs toe*). If you ever want to see it on the original VHS, I'm your girl.
Merry Christmas, Everybody!
Rather than sending out a mass email that none of you will read, I'm using my little soap box here to pose the inevitable question:
What is everyone up to for New Years?
And no, I'm not that irritating girl who always has to have an awesome plan, who expects New Years to be this awesome deal full of awesome parties and awesome exploits. I know it's not awesome. And I know it usually sucks. But I'd like it to suck with my friends this year. So... If you're interested in doing something with me, or if you have ideas about what to do, please email me, or post them here for all to see.
So that means you: Fingers, Free Samples, Poomobile, Big Guy, Lady G, Manrissa, and all those anonymous' out there (no insult to you Sleeves, Hurr_ah, Ash, Violette, or Pants--I just know you'll all be miles and miles away from little wee me, and that some of us can't be in Cuba...)
So, yea... That's it.
The Final Battle
It was vicious. It was personal. A complete physical and emotional usurping. The very essence of good versus evil brought into question, if you will. It was...
...Library Lady vs. The iPod.
But don't worry. Much like the Oilers, I came out on top. There are now 220 songs on three different playlists for me to beebop along to... You know (*scuffs toe*)... Just in case you were all worried, or somthin'.
Come to think of it, this was just like that time I battled that thing in the mine shaft. Do you remember that Cindie? Man that was tough. I think I have that on tape somewhere... Oh yea, here IT is.
Hmm? Don't 'cha think? The similarities are uncanny. I'm glad I shaved that beard off, though. And Cindie you were wise to get out of that "Medieval" phase. I'm glad you're no longer working that cape thing. Although I like your hair curly.
Soundtrack to my Life
I'm not the only person who has one. Fingers has one. But her's is mainly man-made noises: beeps and doodles and hums and whistles and whatnot. Elo had one. But hers was a voice over that described what she was doing at all times of the day: Elo is walking from 18th Century History in Togo Salmon to the Mills Library bookdrop... Elo is buying a coffee from the Bread Bin...
Mine's basically a Top 40 soundtrack, however embarrassing that may or may not be. The songs that run through my head over the course of a day, and the songs that I pump in the car, when no one's with me. And don't think I'm not belting along. Oh yea. That's me out there in the car, shaking my tail feather... Brushing my shoulder off. For the record: I have no shame.
These 9 will most like be to no one's taste. I'm not forcing you to listen to them. So don't give me poop about it, capeesh? I can't help it. This is my soundtrack, people... Did Tony Danza pick his theme song? I don't think so. He wasn't the boss on that one.
So (*ahem*) without further do... The Soundtrack to my Life (videos attached):
Jump, Madonna
Irreplaceable,Beyonce
Breathe, Telepopmusik
Money Maker, Ludacris
Gyasi Went Home, Bedouin
Santeria, Sublime
I Don't Need a Man, PCD
Gunnin', Hedley
I Don't Feel Like Dancing, Scissor Sisters
Part Deux
I've given you the list of things I'm smitten with. Now it's time for the things that, to date, drive me crazy with RAGE. Well, that's a bit much. Hows abouts the things I just don't like right now:
1) Rachel Ray. She bugs me for many reasons:
(i) She tucks in her shirts. Like, all of them. Her t-shirts. Her long sleeve t's. Her sweaters. All of them. I'm pretty sure that went out with overalls.
(ii) If I followed her '30 minute' meal plans, I'd be humongous. Like, Shamu huge. That's not cool, man. How in good faith can you put together a meal for your family when beer and 4-cheese fondue, with a side of pigs 'n blankets is on the menu?
(iii) Thanks for the tips, "Rach", but I'm pretty sure any idiot can eat-out while traveling on $40 A DAY! For reals? I'm pretty sure there was a time in Sarajevo where Heather and I ate pizza, 3 scoops of ice cream a piece, four beer, and a couple a hits on the ole 'shisha for like $4. Now that's a deal. And if you can do it in Sarajevo, you can sure as hell do it in Onkatonkwa, Wisconsin.
2) Canadian Tire. The entire franchise. I've never had good service there. And the one in Dundas is full of useless twats. I once had the same key cut six times there by three different sales staff over a one week period. None of them worked. How does that happen? Today, my Grandmother was looking for a wet/dry dustbuster to give my cousin as a Hanukkah gift (such a Gramma gift), and the saleswoman not only ignored Helen Ruth and her cane, but went so far as to give the exasperated, "Uh, hold on a minute" while she finished stocking her shelves of rat poison, or whatever. We went to Walmart.
3) The shrimp that comes on the side of your virgin caesar at Red Lobster. Can you think of another drink that comes with a piece of meat hanging off the side? Can you? Hmm? Beer and a burger? Spritzer and a Strip loin? Vodka/Cran and a Wiener schnitzel? I think not. Sick. I love shrimp but I defs don't love a shrimp shirt on my drink.
p.s. I do love, however, that the "R" in the "Fortinos" sign (my local grocery store) has burnt out. So now I sound all ghetto when I say I'm making a milk run... To Fo'tinos... Say it with me... Fo'tinos... Oh yea...
I'm smitten as a kitten with several things:
1) The new show on TBS, "My Boys." Too funny.
b) Crispy Minis, "cheese" flavour.
2) Pug dogs. I want one.
F) My new shampoo that smells of pina colada (which, by the by, is Spanish for 'squeezed pinapple').
p.s. It's ME in the picture, and I'm NOT wearing my pajamas... I'm wearing a ver ver fashionable sweater... (*cough*)... But good one, Lady G. Good one. I'll get you, my pretty... Oh yea...
Switch 'Em Up
I'm switching up the Freebie Five. As much as I heart Clinton, let's be honest: it's never going to happen for us. I'm not his type (and although it's never been publicly declared, I don't believe I'm the right sex either). So I'm substituting in someone who really should have been on my original list, because I loves both him, and his rockin' band:
Jay Malinowski from Bedouin Soundclash.
I mean really... Don't you agree?
For my Pants: A Peter Griffin Christmas
(Oh who am I kiding? It's for me, too. It might just be my favorite 'Family Guy' clip of all time... Well... Almost... There's really too many to choose...)
Also, a special treat for the first one to name the movie attached to this quote (and Hurr-ah, you're out of this competition... Too easy for you...) Ready?
"Clark, Audrey can't feel her legs."
Mmm boy...
I mean seriously. It's pictures like these that remind me of why... Um... Uh... Oh, hee hee... Um just a sec... Um (*drool*) Oops, sorry 'bout that... Oh jeez... This is so embarrassing... Eee... It was just, you know... I was so TRANSFIXED BY HIS GORGEOSITY that I forgot what I was saying. You know... (*scuffs toe*)
Dear Lord, Joaquin.
God bless Lainey.
Snaps for PP
God bless Parker Posey. I was reminded of that Pepsi commercial she did with Jimmy what's his name, and I suddenly realized: after a year of seeing that thing, it's still piss-your-pants funny.
While we're at it, hurrah for THIS commercial, and THIS commercial, and THIS commercial, too. They're all piss-your-pants funny.
Sing it with me: "A moo moo moo mooooooo..."
(*ahem*) For the record, the definition of BANDIT is:
ban·dit /ˈbændɪt–noun, plural ban·dits or (Rare) ban·dit·ti /bænˈdɪti/
1. a person who takes unfair advantage of others, as a merchant who overcharges; swindler; cheat.
A bandit I am not. Given freely, it was. Now, a pirate... Well that's something completely different. Because a pirate is always looking for the booty.
p.s. Keep it clean, people, keep it clean. Family atmosphere.
As requested...
My computer is going all wonky-doodles on me, so posting has been slow. Mucho apologies to those lurking and waiting for party scandal, etc.
So, Saturday was a good time. A ver ver good time. There was a party. There was a cheese ball, handmade by Suzanne (uber good work on your ball, Suzanne). There was music, and dancing, and a tipsy Free Samples. There were boys, and flirting, and a dance competition for which a trophy was one. There were 24-hour hamburgers and more poutine than you can shake a stick at. There were inflatable mattresses, and I think there was someone sleeping in the closet. Alas, there was no room at the inn for me on the bed.
A little red faced in the morning and a wee hungover. There's a wee something else that I'll keep to myself, because Lord knows, what happens at Cindie's, stays at Cindie's. Right?
I'm slacking! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't give up on me. Not much new to report, so maybe I'll share some things I'm happy about?
1. Today is the first day of December and thus the first day for Advent Calendars. Hurrah.
2. Speaking of Hurrah, her birthday present, once lost, has now been found.
3. Tomorrow I'm going to a party.
4. I'm wearing my camo pants.
5. I'm also wearing 'Tuesday' underpants.
6. You can buy the entire DVD series of 'Sex and the City' in one boxed set.
7. A coupon for 'Michaels' came in the mail today. I'm thinking of buying something crafty.
8. I've decided to ask for photography lessons for Christmas.
9. I'm going to Heather's tonight.
10. Heather will soon live closer to me.
11. I have a hard boiled egg for lunch.
12. I woke up smiling this morning.
13. I only work until 12:30 today.
That's it. More to come after the party tomorrow night. Stay tuned.
How old is "too old"?
Ho hum pigs bum. I bought a pair of camouflage pants tonight. They look like this:
And now they's gots me thinking. Prior to this purchase, I was involved in a very deep discussion (not really, it was actually pretty shallow) with a good friend (let's call her C. Hietanen. No, that's too obvious. What about Cindie H?) I was worried that I might be too old for such novelties. We decided that the decision to buy or not to buy the camo pant really rested on the size of the print, the wash, and the cut... Bah. In the end, I think I went with the very pant we decided I was too old to have.
I've since realized I've been having that feeling a lot lately--too old to be taking CDs like 'Now 20' out of the library (for the record, I checked it out myself, and snuck it into my bag before anyone would see me.) Too old to be browsing the bar scene (Cougar pounce!) Too old to be choosing the 'Elle Girl' instead of the 'Maclean's' in the doctor's office waiting room...
So here's my question, dear Reader. How old is too old to be sporting the camo pant? At what point is it deemed unacceptable for me to be reading up on Misha Barton's make-up regime? And is it okay that I still enjoy Shakira?
Sometimes I find it hard to believe I'm 27 (*she writes as she reaches for the remote to her Nintendo prepared to play yet another hour of Super Mario*)
I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion I've had too many (*ahem*) "heavy" posts lately, and so for this, my next entry, I'm going old school for you, putting together a mish-mash of random thoughts. This one goes out to all you blog lurkers, perhaps too timid to leave a comment, stuck in an office somewhere, working on something tedious, something heavy, maybe looking for a mental break. You know who you are...
1. Congrats to my good friend WSM, literary genius and the smartest heterosexual male in the history of library school (with the exception of that James guy, maybe, but only because he used words like "Byzantine" and not in an 'I'm smarter than you' type way, but in an 'I know what that word means' type way...) Also, a big hurrah to Sleeves, who never gives up on what she wants, and who will--mark my words, dear readers--be a world famous chick-lit writer some day. I will by your book.
2. I really like that little person show on TLC. I don't know what it is about those damn little people. And is it me, or does the father, Matt Roloff, look like a smaller Richard Gere?
3. I just saw a commercial for toilet paper made with cashmere. Fo reals? Above and beyond, people. Above. And. Beyond. Is this really necessary? Discuss.
4. Sometimes you just need a fountain Coke. Are you with me?
5. Why is Britney Spears dating Mario Lopez? Has she never seen an episode of 'Saved by the Bell'? Two words: Spandex. Twins.
6. I've recently discovered that my cat has lips.
7. Smarties mixed in with your movie theatre popcorn are a good idea in theory, but a pain in the ass, practicly speaking. You spend all your time rummaging in your bag for chocolate love when you should be watching, say, Daniel Craig all nippy noodles on the big screen.
8. Did I mention my cat has lips?
9. I know this woman, and I can't help but notice that the ass of her jeans is always slightly askew. Like, the back seam, which should, hypothetically, run smoothly down the middle of your butt, is always seriously to the right on her. My mission, people, is to determine if her jeans are just messed up, or if her left ass cheek is SERIOUSLY larger than her right. Either way it's messed up, I suppose.
10. I had a dream I won $20,000. Random, I know. But can I tell you who happy I was when I woke up? I was actually cheering in my brain, with a huge smile on my face (much like the one I sport when I've been into the vino). Such a bummer. I was all "Oh... Oh, I see... I get it... There isn't really $20,000 for me... Yea, that's coo... You know... What evs" (*scuffs toe*)
And that's it.
On that note, I'm glad to see the return of a few familiar faces--Keri and Manrissa, who, oddly enough, both live on the opposite side of the planet... You still all "Kangaroo-a-go-go" Keri?
The Stereotype
So I'm working in this temporary position getting a branch of the library up and running for RFID. My end of the project is pretty much done, so I'm joining the legions of other librarians lending my boss-lady a hand getting the library ready for it's post-renovation grand opening.
It's funny, because as a librarian I've spent so much energy fighting the stereotype that all I do is shelve books and put things in order ("Oh you're a librarian? So, I guess you know all about the dewey decimal system and stuff, huh? Ha ha ha...") and yet my boss-lady and I stopped ourselves today from getting into a full on fist fight, hip deep in kids paperbacks, as to weather or not we should shelve the 1500 books we'd just spent the last 6 hours organizing and putting in alphabetical order left to right, or up and down...
Say it isn't so.
And just like that, things change. One minute you can be all "woe is me" and the next you're feeling a kinda giddy. It doesn't take much: good friends, a phone call from your Pants, shopping, a night out, and a little unexpected attention.
The latest question: at what point does one join the ranks of the Cougar?
There's this girl that I know, and I think it's fair to say she's embarking on a new relationship. It's quite cute, really. Lord knows, after all the wieners she's had to deal with, she deserves a gooder. Things are moving along "swimmingly" (to use her word). There's been wine. There's been lots of talking. I think there's been some kissing... She's happy, and that makes me happy.
But here's the thing, and I'm not really sure how to tell her... As happy as I am for her--and believe me, there's NO ONE out there happier for her than me--there's this little awful, disgusting, shameful part of me that just can't muster up the enthusiasm I know I should be giving her. She has stood by me through everything, thick and thin, and she's always had the words I needed to hear. And now, at the very moment she should be getting them from me (the 'give me the scoop!' or the 'tell me all about it!') I just can't do it. Just thinking about all those wonderful feelings she must be living--the butterflies and the rethinking every wonderful kiss--makes me realize my heart is still sitting in a plow truck somewhere in Edmonton, and that I'll never have that same heart back again.
I only wish there was some way I could tell her this without sounding like the gross person I feel I'm being.
New Column
For those of you dedicated readers (helllloooooooo [hello hello hello]... is anybody out thhheerrrrreeeeee [there there there]...) you may or may not have noticed I've been spontaneously adding to my profile column: a picture of my peanut, and a picture of the cutest baby alive. Well, surprise surprise, dearest fans, I've got another addition to make! I bring you (drum roll please):
The Freebie Five (as inspired by Lainey)
They are, in particular order...
1. Joaquin Phoenix
2. Josh Holloway (the actor, not the character)
3. Jim Halpert (the character, not the actor)
4. Daniel Craig
5. Clinton Kelly
Now, I should preface something first. These are not, as typically explained, the five fantasy boyfriends I could... you know... without guilt, should they come to my door and ask. They are, rather, the five fantasy boyfriends I'm allowed to have without explanation.
They are not the top sellers at the box office, i.e. your Georges or your Brads. They are not all your macho-i-est, nor are they necessarily straight. But I loves them. And I don't have to explain why.
So, your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to post your freebie five in the comments. Hurrah for (some) boys!
"Little Thing", Dave Matthews Band
I can't remember where I was going
But I can't remember where I was leading to
Or what led me to you, but
Oh, and the weight is all through my head
The look of you, the sound
The way you laughed at me
From then and then, I didn't know where I was going
But always I cry
And so, hey, oh
The hands that pour my hands on you again
Hey, I will beg you, I'll beg, oh
See me, please find me again
Oh, I'm lost again
I sit here drinking coffee
Or water depending the time of day
But, oh, you're with me like a ghost of a mother
Oh, you're with me like the pain of a father
Oh, I wish I, I wish I could call you something
Other than the guy that I saw then...
...Do I even cross your mind lately
With more than just a laughing
Did you think as you walked away, maybe
You were, hey
Oh, I hope you did
So, hey, yeah
You would, you would have been feeling
The same thing as I am know
Halloween
Honestly, it's gotta be my favorite day of the year, next to Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and the day we go for pancakes and maple syrup at the sugar shack in the woods, and any day that involves cheesies, kitty paws, or Lost... But next to those things...
This year, as an extra special treat, Heather and I dressed as Hansel and Gretel. I was Hansel, Heather... Well, you can figure it out. We did not, as my mother wanted to know, go door-to-door. But we did paint the town. It was ridiculous, really. No, sorry, it was actually so beyond ridiculous, it was ridonkulous. But we had fun. So much fun. We danced. We flirted. We drank German beer (how fitting?) We distributed candy and bread crumbs (well, actually they were more like croutons). I'm mean, who could blame us for looking that silly when there was that much fun to be had?
Hope your day is filled with mini chocolate bars and Rockets (although, I always traded my Rockets for those molasses candies, because I hated Rockets...)
Chubbs
I'd like to send a great big "howdy doody" out to all my fat babies in the house.
Whoot! Whoot!
Yea that's right... That means you, and you, and especially you, Chubbers. Yea, you know what I'm talking about. That's right. You over there in the corner with the peanut face. You with your chubbified cheeks, so fat they should be illegal. You and your sausage legs all bundled in a blanket--don't think I don't know you're in a onesie under there! Oh, I know... Probs wearing your little stripey pants, too. Damn cute, fat babies and their tiny legs.
But for reals... Welcome, cutie. We've all been waiting on you. And you arrived fashionably late, as all ladies should. And you arrived looking better than we could have imagined. You're fabulous, sweetheart. And I mean it from the bottom of my fat-baby-lovin' heart.
Props to Madison, y'all.
Paula's Home Cooking
Apparently anyone can get a cooking show on the Food Network, because as of today I've officially discovered the worst of the worst.
Her name is Paula Deen, but you gots to imagine it said with a thick Savannah accent, a la "Pawow-la Dah-een". She's this woman who started her own cooking business in Georgia, and her specialty is something called 'Boston Butt'. I'm not sure what that is.
She has the most nasal voice I've ever heard. Today she made something called "Sausage Balls" (I've linked you to the recipe, just in case you feel so inclined...) These taste treats involve opening a box of biscuit mix, adding a pound of sausage meat, and a package of pre-shredded cheese. Roll them and bake them for 10 minutes or so. And such is the glory of the Sausage Ball. Don't forget to mix generic mustard and whipped dressing (not even mayonnaise) for your dipping sauce. You'll be happy to know this recipe will yeild you five dozen Sausage Balls.
I mean, for real? Is that all it takes to have your own cooking show? Open a box of Bisquick and slop some Hellman's in a bowl? Sick. I can't stop laughing. I keep saying "Sausage Balls" over and over in that awful nasal Savannah drawl... Say it with me: Sausage Balls. Sausage Balls. Sausage Balls.
Bhahahahahahaha!
I like Monkeys
The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was slow. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
Reflections on a Home Coming:
1. Things never change.
2. The fact that things never change is somewhat comforting.
3. I've always believed that my father had the uncanny ability to find the most boring things on TV to watch. I've since realized that for the most part, these "shows" have one unifying theme: Tiger Woods. I'm pretty sure Tiger Woods is the most boring person alive.
4. Grammas are always good, especially when they take you with a triple jump on the checker board.
5. Traffic in Ontario is gross. So is the sheer volume of minivans on the road. Subsequently, minivan drivers are gross. I've always been good with math.
6. Ontario's Pizza Pizza is superior to Pizza 73. I'm sorry, Hurr_ah and Sleeves, but It's true. It's the dipping sauce. I love the creamy garlic dipping sauce.
7. I miss my library ladies. And WSM. But he was one of the girls at school anyway, for the most part. So really, I just miss my library ladies. Both from school and from work. And then there's Pants/Rosie... Besty.
Books Books Books
I'm feeling the need to puff myself up a bit. So here goes.
Over the course of the last year and a half in my stint as a Children's Librarian, using my lunch hours, breaks, and lengthy bus/LRT rides, I have read or re-read, interspersed with copious picture books, the following junior and YA titles (in no particular order):
Skellig
Whales On Stilts
The Clue of Linoleum Lederhosen
Kissing Tennessee
Fifteen
The Luckiest Girl
Jean and Johnny
Sahara Special
What Mr. Mattero Did
Catherine Called Birdy
Lucy Whipple
The Midwife's Apprentice
Matilda Bone
The Cat Ate My Gymsuit
There's a Bat in Bunk Five
Coraline
Among the Hidden
Princess Academy
Shug
Ida B
I am the Wallpaper
The Star of Kazan
Kira-Kira
Gossip Times Three
Girls
Worth
Spying on Dracula
2gether, 4ever
Kensuke's Kingdom
All Alone in the Universe
The Bailey Game
Spiral-Bound
Endymion Spring
Flipped
Bad Girls
Girls in Love
The Illustrated Mum
Feed
Noughts, and Crosses
Forever
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
The Second Summer of the Sisterhood
A Great and Terrible Beauty
Rebel Angels
Wild Orchid
Nicola and the Viscount
Grecian Holiday
Spanish Holiday
California Holiday
Ready?
Looking for JJ
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
The Fattening Hut
The Red Kayak
Someone Like You
That Summer
This Lullaby
Keeping the Moon
The Truth About Forever
Just Listen
A Northern Light
The True Meaning of Cleavage
The Isabel Factor
I Capture the Castle
Looking for Alaska
The Minister's Daughter
Perfect World
The Raging Quiet
Alice MacLeod: Realist At Last
Alice, I Think
Miss. Smithers
Girl, 15, Charming But Insane
Girl, 16, Absolute Torture
The Giver
Gathering Blue
Messenger
Silent Boy
The Beckoners
Love, and Other Four Letter Words
Sloppy Firsts
Second Helpings
Charmed Thirds
Not the End of the World
White Darkness
Feeling Sorry for Celia
Sang Spell
Teach Me
Angus, Thongs, and Full-FrontalÂ…
On the Bright Side, I'm NowÂ…
Knocked Out by my Nunga-Nungas
Dancing in my Nuddy Pants
Away Laughing on a Fast Camel
Then He Ate my Boy Entrancers
Startled by his Furry Shorts
How I Live Now
Small Steps
The Safe Keeper's Secret
The Truth Teller's Tale
Sumemrs at Castle Auburn
Dust
What My Mother Doesn't Know
No Shame, No Fear
If We Kiss
What Gloria Wants
Hard Love
Sorcery and Cecelia
Summer Sisters
Nellcott is my Darling
My Sister's Keeper
The Pact: A Love Story
The Tenth Circle
The Book Theif
(*ahem*)
Puff Puff.
That's all folks.
Just Call Me Oprah...
So I was on TV this morning. Yup (*stretches*) just another day in the life of a Children's Librarian (*pats self on back*). It was for Raise-a-Reader, which premiers tomorrow in the Edmonton Journal. Look for me in the library centre fold... Hey! Not that kind of picture! Get your mind out of the gutter.
But seriously. Heather from Hamilton says I'm like Oprah. So who wants to be the Gail to my Oprah? Hmm? Only, as Heather says, I don't look like a pug dog without my make-up on.
Thanks, Heather.
Gold Star
I would like to arrange something like this with my library peeps:
(p.s. A gold star to the one who can name the fantastical movie this is from...)
Susie: You guys, I'm really going to miss this place.
Coop: Me too.
Ben: Hey, let's all promise that in ten years from today, we'll meet again, and we'll see what kind of people we've blossomed into.
Susie: Yeah!
Ben: What time do you wanna meet?
J.J.: You mean ten years from now?
Coop: Let's meet in the morning so we can make a day of it.
Susie: Okay, so what is it? Is it like 9:00? 9:30?
Coop: Well, let's say 9:00, that way we can be here by 9:30.
McKinley: Well, no, why don't we say 9:30, and then make it your beeswax to be here by 9:30? I mean, we'll all be in our late 20s by then. I just don't see any reason why we can't be places on time.
Gary: Okay, then, it's settled. 9:30 it is. All agreed?
Together: Agreed.
McKinley: Good, because I have something at 11:00.
Gary: You just have like a trapper-keeper full of appointments, right?
McKinley: No, I just have something at 11:00, and I can't change it, because I already moved it twice.
Royal Smart Person
A royal smart person (namely, Hurr_ah) once said:
"Tis far better to get your life started in Hamilton, than to wait for it to end in Edmonton."
I think I shall make a t-shirt with this bit of wisdomostiy.
Bravo, Hurr_ah.
I don't ask for much. I mean, seriously. I'm already doing everything I can to make this as painless as possible for all involved. We're supposed to be grown-ups, right? So when I ask for honesty, I expect honesty. That's not a lot to ask for... It's not like I'm asking for a loan, or a job, or something else that would be considered a major commitment that I can't think of right now...
I don't understand where/when things took this turn. I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. It makes me feel as though I've done something wrong. As though I'm the bad one--the one to be avoided and forgotten.
I guess in a way, this gives me a reason to hate him. I just didn't want it to come to that.
A Tribute to the Small Things in Life:
Due to recent 'issues' in my life, Pants has been sending me distractors--items of goodness meant to keep me busy at work, where for the most part I'm busy already, but when I'm not... Well, you know... I'm procrastinating.
But I digress.
The latest distractor is the God-send, Lainey Gossip.
Lainey is fantastic. A total cow. She says all the things we're thinking, but in a deliciously funny, well written way. For example: THIS.
Warning: if you're not into celebrity news/trashing, then don't hit it up... Savvy? (as Lainey would say)
There. That's all the warning you'll get. Now click on it, and get your fill of hilarosity.
p.s. I've added her link to my 'Favorite Places to Visit' section, by the by.
Mindless ramblings of a crazed woman...
Such is my life. A mish-mash of nonsense that even I don't understand at the best of times. It's the same thing over and over and I can't seem to escape it. All I want is some form of normalcy. I've seen it, so I know it exists. It exists all around me, just not with me. What do I have to do to be normal?
I know a lot of you will say:
a) The grass is always greener...
b) There is no standard on which you can accurately measure yourself...
c) Nothing is what it seems...
But I gotta think that some people have it better. I gotta hope that this isn't what I'm doomed for for the rest of my life. This isn't what I bargained for and worked for and transplanted myself for.
The question is: am I ever going to find it here? If not, at what point do I throw in the towel and move on. Bigger and better, as they say.
And now for something completely different...
For those of you who won't have the pleasure of reviewing all 1,000,000 of my pictures, I've uploaded a couple of things for your perusal. These are by no means the highlights, or the lowlights (is that a word?). Just some shots I liked.
This was the menu at one of the restaurants in Belgrade. You'll notice sex glands, regular glands, bowels, and mushrooms in many ways are amongst the specialties.
Me enjoying deliciously strong Turkish coffee.
Coming to the realization I'm not in Kansas anymore.
Just some island prettiness.
I don't know why, but I really like this shot... It makes me feel all National Geographic-y.
Gary really has nothing to do with my trip, but c'mon now... Look at how cute he is cuddling his Santa stuffie... How could I resist?!
This is a toughy...
Brace yourself, this could take some serious time and deep contemplation. It's not an easy choice, nor one pregnant mother's or those with heart conditions should take lightly. If you're ready, and I mean really ready, to face the toughest choice of all time, scroll down...
Kevin Federline's performance on the MTV Teen Choice Awards
VS.
The movie "Snakes on a Plane"
Which is worse?
Tough call, I know.
Weirdest show ever:
What It's Like Being Alone.
Too funny! You have to watch it! Mondays at 9:30 p.m., on CBC.
Ash, you'll love it. And even Sleeves in her cable-less-ness can watch it!
Fuh. Nee.
I've copied this from my friend Princess's blog. It made me laugh damn hard this morning, because I can just picture it, and so I'm sharing it with you...
The Census Sketch, SNL:
Census-Taker.....Tim Meadows
Mr. Leonard.....Christopher Walken
Census-Taker: Mr. Leonard? I'm with the U.S. Census Bureau. We sent you a Census form, but you failed to return it to us.
Mr. Leonard: My mail is piled up like crazy.
Census-Taker: Yeah. Well, I just need to fill out this Census form with you. Uh.. how many people live in this residence?
Mr. Leonard:Oh, boy.. good question. I'm bad with numbers.. Maybe 80.
Census-Taker: 80 people live in this apartment?
Mr. Leonard: Seems high, doesn't it? Not 80. How about 4? I don't know.. I'm so bad at guestimating..
Census-Taker: Well, just take your time, and count.
Mr. Leonard: Okay.. there's me.. my wife.. our plants.. we have some candy bars..
Census-Taker: Well, you know, we don't count candy bars or plants..
Mr. Leonard: Well, then, there's just the two of us. Boy, I really overshot with the 80!
Census-Taker: Listen, don't worry about it. I'm gonna put you down as the Primary Resident, okay? Now, are you currently employed?
Mr. Leonard: Yeah.. part of the time.
Census-Taker: Well, you work part-time. How many days of the week?
Mr. Leonard: Every day.. but just part of the day. From 9 to 5.
Census-Taker: So, you work a full day?
Mr. Leonard: I wouldn't say that. There are huge chunks of time.. at night.. where I'm just asleep. For hours. It's ridiculous.
Census-Taker: No, it's not that ridiculous. Mr. Leonard, do you own or rent this apartment?
Mr. Leonard: Sure. You have to ask one of the other 79 people.
Census-Taker: You mean your wife?
Mr. Leonard: Yeah.
Census-Taker: Well, can I talk to her, then?
Mr. Leonard: She won't answer you. She's a bobcat.
Census-Taker: You got a bobcat in there?
Mr. Leonard: Well, I have a permit. [ reaches into apartment and pulls out a sheet of paper ] Here you go.
Census-Taker: [ examines paper ] This is a permit to run a nail salon.
Mr. Leonard: Wrong one! Wrong one! [ pulls another sheet of paper out of his apartment ]
Census-Taker: [ examines paper ] This is a permit to do street performances.
Mr. Leonard: Yeah. My wife's a big part of the act.
Census-Taker: [ shaking head ] You know what? Fine. [ changing subject ] Mr. Leonard, are you a citizen of the United States?
Mr. Leonard: I have dual-citizenship with the United States and Florida.
Census-Taker: Florida is a part of the United States.
Mr. Leonard: Don't push your politics on me, pal. All's I know is when I turned 50, I was issued a Florida passport. [ hands him the "passport" ] Here you go.
Census-Taker: [ examining "passport" ] Alright.. this is a novelty birthday card. And it says, "You're over the hill. Here's a passport to Florida." This is not a real passport.
Mr. Leonard: I don't know.. you know? Whenever I go to Florida, I show it at the border, and they always let me in!
Census-Taker: Listen, Mr. Leonard. A real passport wouldn't have a picture of a sexy nurse on it. This is a joke card.
Mr. Leonard: Well.. it's a hell of a forgery!
Census-Taker: [ exasperated ] Okay, let's just proceed as if this were going really well. Now, how long have you lived at this address?
Mr. Leonard: Oh, man! There you go with the numbers again!
Census-Taker: Just take your time.
Mr. Leonard: Well, what do most people say?
Census-Taker: That's not important!
Mr. Leonard: I feel an enormous amount of pressure to get this right. I want to win that car!
Census-Taker: [ shaking his head ] There's no car, Mr. Leonard! How long have you lived here?
Mr. Leonard: Alright, when I moved in, it was the Spring, and Clinton was President.. I'd just gotten out of jail.. I'd say an hour.
Census-Taker: Alright, let me go over this again, then. You are a convicted criminal, living alone in an apartment with a bobcat. And you work 56 hours a week as a street performer.
Mr. Leonard: When you say it like that, my life sounds pretty damn good!
Census-Taker: You know what? I've talked to a lot of people all over this country.. and your life is pretty damn good. You wanna get a beer?
Mr. Leonard: You know, I'd love to, but.. [ points into apartment ] ..you know.. the ol' ball and chain..
Census-Taker: Alright. Take care.
Mr. Leonard: Have a good one. [ returns into the apartment to find his bobcat/wife growling at him ] Again?! We just did it!
Hurrah for Hurr_ah!
Hip hip hurrah! Hip hip hurrah! Hip hip hurrah!
We all knew she was bound for the biggest and the best. You don't get to be the prettiest girl in library school for nothing. Nor the smartest... She's a star.
We'll miss your Michelle Pfeifer/Dangerous Minds ass here in Edmonton... Sigh...
"Lonely... I'm so lonely... I've got no body... To call my ooooooooowwwnnnnn."
Magpie
I walked into work this morning, and my coworker was wearing these kick-ass sandals... I can't even begin to describe them to you. They were all I could look at when I was talking to her. Shoes like that are the kind of shoes you marry. I'm like a freakin' magpie, except instead of shiny things, it's shoes.
Also, this past weekend:
Three cheers for nachos and plastic cheese; people who guess you're 29 instead of 18; babies named Henry who smell like soft and happy; and guys named Dean, who as unattractive as they might be, make you feel nice about yourself when you most need it.
This is a little something for my friend, Ash, who has cheered me immensly in the last few days, what with her Ninja baby and the mentioning of my name on her blog... Can I say I've been published now?!
Here goes:
"The goal of this post is to cheer people up. Everybody I talk to lately seems to be tired, depressed, busy, panicked...not good emotions [that would be me a couple of days ago...]. So, breathe. I'm tagging five friends to do this and, if you don't have a blog, feel free to comment in the comments section for this post.
Here's what you have to do: Name five things that make you insanely happy for absolutely no fathomable reason. Here's five of mine:"
1. Ride on lawnmowers.
2. Cubed cheese.
3. THIS.
4. Label makers.
5. Oversized cat paws.
It makes no sense, but these things make me very happy whenever I come across them. So, here's who I'm calling out:
1. Hurr_ah
2. Sleeves
3. Pants
4. Manrissa
5. Princess Cosine
Pet Peeve #776
Store clerk/purchaser small talk.
Listen, I'm here to buy something. Yes, you're going to get the commission. No, I'm not going to tip you. So you can quit it with the small talk. Stop asking me my opinion on the weather, and no, I don't have plans for the long weekend (that I'm going to share with you...) Yes, I like the city. And no, I can't believe the humidity. You're right. It is like an oven out there. Now zip it, shoe boy, so I can try on these flip flops and think about how they're going to look with MY NEW CAPRIS! Sheesh...
Come to think of it... He might have been hitting on me...
Hmm...
Liquid Deja Vu...
Last night I discovered the most horrifying TV show.
I've become addicted to MTV Canada, and it's my new fall back--when nothing else is on, I go to channel 90 and laugh at the rich 16 year-olds having monstrously huge birthday parties, and the show about Danny Bonaduce managing his anger through karate (*insert karate chopping noise here*).
But as Pants would say, I digress...
Whilst falling back to channel 90, I happened upon the beginnings of "There and Back," the Ashley Parker Angel show. For those of you who aren't familiar with Ashley, he's one of the founding members of O-Town. Yes, the band who gave us "Liquid Dreams." Ahh, the memories.
Consider this your warning. No one need ever watch this show. Poison for the eyes.
Thats all I have to say on that...
Nervy B
Hockey-a-go-go-land is having a nervy b for the Oilers. I am currently staring at the Square, and consequently at an impromptu parade of loons in designer suits and Street Legal uniforms with fake Oilers tatoos all over their faces chanting "let's go Oilers, let's go!" Ach eye! The whole things is giving me a bit of stresser, if you know what I mean. I can barely stand to watch the games anymore. I'm too nervous for the poor guys.
By the by: the "cup" is currently on display in City Centre, and within minutes it was surrounded by: a) police men (you'd think it was Whyte Ave.), and b) what appeared to be a group of Asian tourists. No joke.
Vair vair exciting.
Cat Town
In light of certain "life situations", I'm scouring the world for anything to make me laugh.
And I have to say, I've never seen anything quite like this.
I don't think I'll ever see anything quite like this again.
It's officially one of, if not the, funniest things I've found online.
I don't know about you, but I am certainly tuning in to find out what happens next time on...
...Cat Town!
The Saddest of Days
Marley died last night. She was hit by a car. I'm gonna miss that peanut face like nobody's business.
More Random Thoughts...
1) I am so ridiculously proud of the Oilers.
2) An elderly woman sat next to me on the LRT today. She was wearing a hot pink, Michael Jackson-ish leather jacket. You know, like the red one from the "Thriller" video, all covered in zippers and mesh. It was rad.
3) I used a chocolate body scrub on my arms this morning, and now I can't stop smelling my arms. Thank you, my long lost Hurr_ah.
4) I am also ridiculously proud of Gary. I know... He's a cat. But this weekend, when we went away, he stayed with family. And now that we're back, he's made it very clear (through endless kneading and purring and puffiness) that he's happy we're all home together again. I love that I'm not just "that girl who lives in his house." I think I might actually be "that nice girl who lives in his house."
5) An evil dooer on my listserv has copied my email signature! Oh the sacrilege...
A poll:
Well, it's spring, and the world is in bloom and we are all once again twitterpated. Naturally, with spring and twitterpation comes babies. And with babies come the dreaded showers (and I don't mean the soap and bubble sort).
So I've been thinking a lot about this lately (don't ask me why), and I have to say, I'm feeling slightly cheesed. So I'm polling you.
What is the point of a baby shower? Is it:
a) To celebrate the baby, and thus to be held after the baby has arrived so that family and friends can see and hold and cuddle and squeeze the little peanut, as every peanut should be?
or is it:
b) Without sounding too crude, to get the mother the things she needs for the baby--clothes, toys, cribs, bottles, bassinets, dressers, etc. And thus to be held before the baby, with the pregnant mom.
Wile I realize that showers always involve gifts, at what point does it become excessive? And at what point do we say, "Hey! It's your baby. You chose to have it. It's your responsibility to get the things you need for it."
I mean, I know people who have REGISTERED for baby showers. I know friends who have purchased BREAST PUMPS as shower gifts... Does this seem ridiculous to anyone but me? It's getting to the point where having a baby is like getting married--you can't go to the wedding without a gift; you can't see the baby without a gift.
What do you think? Am I being silly? What about those out there who have had kids? There aren't many of you, I know... Ash?
Jet-Set Frances
It's crazy! I can't believe it's happening! No more thinking and planning and humming and hawing... Just doing!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
For those interested, I'm going here.
p.s. No, I won't smuggle guns into Serbia for your cousin. Pants already asked.
p.p.s. No, it's not a dangerous place to be anymore (with the exception of the upcoming election in Montenegro)... But what place isn't vaguely dangerous? Hmmm?
p.p.p.s. Sorry, Keri... Next time, K?
Pet Peeve #552
People who give the hairy eyeball.
I felt disconcerted this afternoon when giving a tour to a group of people I shall not name. One member of the group kept nodding along with what I was saying, the entire time EYE BALLING me up and down.
Quit it.
Ew.
>: (
Some people think girls don't like hockey.
Some people think girls don't want to go to play-off games.
Some people GIVE AWAY their second round silver seats rather than sending the girl who is so desperate to go she's practically peeing her pants...
Celebrity Sighting
This morning...
I got on the bus...
And sitting in my usual seat...
Was none other than...
A celebrity...
Colonel Mustard.
I swear it was him.
I'm happy to report that no one was killed on the bus with the lead pipe.
V
I saw the movie "V for Vendetta" last night.
Now, I should preface by saying I haven't seen a good show in a long time. And I knew this one looked promising, but I my hopes weren't exceptionally high. That being said...
... This movie was killer. It was awesome. Has anyone seen it? Can anyone else comment? I mean, I don't know if I was just in the mood for a really good plot, but I just can't get over how good this was! I mean, I went so far as to IMDB it first thing this morning, and download a desktop for myself... Scary, I know. But what can I say? It was good.
Go see it.
Ketchup and Mustard
It's just so nice out. Sunny and warm and green and fresh. And the breeze smells like hot dogs. Mmmm... Hot dogs. I think I'll sit in the square for lunch.
Pet Peeve #436
Negative Nelly's. You know who you are--you who can foresee no solution to the problem; you who can shoot down any possible suggestion as being ineffectual or impossible.
Take as an example the following scenario: two friends are planning a trip. One friend is on a limited budget, but is realistic and straightforward about said budget (and it's not a bad budget, I might add, not that I'm part of this story, but if I was... Well, you know...). Other friend completely shoots down budget and vehemently states there is no way a trip could be planned for such an amount. Friend #1 goes out and finds trips and tours for said amount, and presents them to friend #2. Friend #2 continues to deny plausibility of trip and to find any and every fault with plans made by friend #1.
Friend #1 starts to think a trip with friend #2 is not so much fun.
Sigh.
I have a new pink sweatshirt that I love the most and I want to wear it all the time. This always happens. I get something new and I wear it and wear it and wear it and neglect all my other clothes, and then I become "that girl in the pink sweatshirt" and people will talk about me and say, "doesn't she have any other clothes?" and the sweatshirt will start to develop a funk and I'll never take it off, and the next thing you know I'll be wandering around some place like Walmart pant-less with my pink sweatshirt on, all ratty and moth-eaten and I'll be mumbling something about "I used to be somebody who could buy new clothes!" and mothers will steer their screaming children away from my hideousness and my hideous pink sweatshirt...
(*pant pant pant*)...
Well, that's a bit extreme. But you know what I mean...
Something I found...
Maybe I should: stop complaining.
I love: my mom's cooking; my job; Clinton from "What Not to Wear."
I don't understand: bus schedules.
People say I'm: Expressive.
Love is: cheesies...
Somewhere, someone is: writing a French exam.
I will always: have a phobia of hair off the head. Don't ask.
Forever seems: a lifetime away.
I never want to: get lice.
I think our current Prime Minister is: unattractive.
When I wake up in the morning: I have to remember what day it is.
I get annoyed when: I can't figure something out.
Parties are: best if they have a theme.
My dog is: non-existent. But Gary and S'marms are ample substitute.
Kisses are the worst when: you're watching them on TV and all you can hear is the *smack*squish* of lips.
Today I: will apologize.
Tommorow I'm going to: try and think positively.
I really want: to travel.
I have low tolerance for people who: create drama.
If I had a million dollars: I would pay my debt, finish my parent's mortgage, pay my sister's debt, buy a car, give to charity, invest, give presents, and take a vacation.
The Magic Bullet
Yesterday in the lunchroom, one of the ladies I work with pulled out a Magic Bullet. I've seen the infomercial for the Magic Bullet, like, a million times. So naturally I was really excited to see she had one. For those of you unfamiliar with the wonderful-osity of the Magic Bullet, the infomercial says you can pretty much do anything with it, including blending and chopping all kinds of wonders: cheese for nachos which you can then heat up and pour; quesadilla stuff; omelets; frozen drinks. If Sleeve saw it, she'd probably wonder if it was from the future--it's that fantastic. So I oohed and awed over her blender, and then asked the obvious question, "Does it work as well as the commercial says it does?" to which my coworker replied, "Well, I don't really know, because I don't really like sandwiches."
Sandwiches.
But it's a blender?
Where do I work?
Remember the South Park episode where Richard Stamos, brother of John (a.k.a. Uncle Jesse), sings "Loving You" at the football game halftime?
Richard: "Loving you is easy cause you're beautiful --doo-n-doo--doo-doooo-- Aaaaa [his voice cracks and the music stops] Aaaaa..."
Jimbo: "What the hell?!"
Richard: "Aaaaa [his voice wavers]"
Jimbo: "He can't sing the high F."
Mr. Garrison: "Richard Stamos can't sing a high F, he always screws it up like this."
Richard: "Lalalalala..."
Mr. Garrison: "It's obvious where all the talent in that family went."
Bhahahahahahaha...
Oh man...
That's too funny.
Adam and I have taken to saying this to one another. He'll call me at work, and all I can hear on the other end is "--doo-n-doo--doo-doooo-- Aaaaa.. Aaaaa..."
Even funnier: picture Adam doing this with a falsetto voice...
Boggle-tastic!
I played Boggle this weekend. That's a good time.
I like the loud noise the box and dice make when you scramble them. I like being the first to see time is up, and subsequently the shouting of "TIME'S UP!" I like spelling words, and then trying as hard as possible to incorperate an 's' onto the end--mold/molds, hat/hats, in/ins (as in, multiple in doors... Hmmm?)
Yesterday I managed to spell the world "gonad"... And "gonads."
Goodness, I Think
For those of you who have read Sleeve's unauthorized biography "Alice, I Think," it's being made into a TV show on CTV. I'm pretty excited about this for two reasons:
1) For the first time in a long time I found a Canadian YA/J book I enjoy (and a series, at that), and it has nothing to do with the Prairies, WWII, or multiculturalism. Alice is awesome and completely realistic.
2) I hate to say it, but "Degrassi: The Next Generation" just isn't cutting it for me. It's not as good as Lucy and Vula shop-lifting (oh Vula, we expected more from you) and the awkward sexual tension vibrating between Caitlin and that nasty Claude guy (poor Joey).
Hurrah for you, Susan Juby. I'll be watching, for sure.
Should be Illegal...
The latest: Jessica Simpson is adopting an "African baby"...
I mean, seriously... Is adoption the new Fendi?
Blech.
I hate the way a salon smells.
Like some unidentified gross-osity of sickness.
Like wet hair.
Blech.
Volunteer Training
I went to a volunteer training session last night at the Humane Society. I think I can safely say this is an organization that attracts werider people than even the library can bost.
Obviously, one of the more sensitive subjects of the evening was the topic of euthanasia. We all have feelings on this, I'm sure. But the poor girl explaining it was trying her best to express that this is a last resort at the Humane Society; and that once the animals are put up for adoption they're not taken down, unless behavioral issues arise, or disease becomes a factor. I mean, it's a "humane society." Not a "cruelty society." Clearly, their goal is not to exterminate as many animals as possible. They ideally want to see all their healthy fuzzy babies go to new families. The people who work there generally care for their tennants.
But there is always that guy... You know... The one who sits at the back, and mumbles, and then shouts out in the middle of the orientation, "I heard the Humane Society keeps animals and then shoots them..."
Yes, sir. They shoot them. That's exactly what they do... You're so wise.
I mean, really. Somebody clearly has an Old Yeller complex...
I would like the title "Mountain Pine Beetle Information Specialist."
Second only to "Piping Plover Information Specialist." Who, I might add, I know, and whose job sounds much more exciting and romantic and fabulous, if only because Plovers are much cuter than the aforementioned Mountain Pine Beetle. You make the call:
Change
I've got this little nugget of "change" growing in my tummy. It's been brewing there for sometime, and I'm finally beginning to accept that it's not going away. And the thing is, I'm sort of excited about it. Like I could really do it, and not just read about it happening to someone else.
I'm taking it slow, mind you. Not jumping the gun. But I've got some ideas, and I know what I don't want to do (I think)....
Sweet Dreams
What's better than a house made of cheesies and an insatiable metabolism? Buying one of your favorite childhood books for $0.01!
I bought a used book from Amazon for $0.01 and it arrived this morning. I'm so excited to have my hands on this "oldie but goodie," you have no idea. It's called, "Love on the Upbeat," and it's part of the Sweet Dreams series. Oh my, it's good. Synopsis:
"In the middle of a whirlwind summer romance with Todd Barrett, another camper at the music camp she is attending, April Sullivan finds her happiness threatened when Connie, a jealous girl, tries to come between her and Todd."
Will April and todd's relationship last? Will Connie get her man? Will April blow her singing debut at the end-of-summer concert? Oh the excitement!
Seriously, what's better than this? I challenge you to name something... Or as Bill would say, "challaaaaaaange!"
p.s. On another note, I emailed a British author from her website yesterday asking if there was another in a favorite series coming out, totally expecting a stock response. And I got a completely personal email with a full description of the new book, and some congrats on being a librarian, etc. etc. How fun is that? Made my day, I tell 'ya.
Poll Time:
I heard a radio interview this morning with Ludicrous, the rapper and co-star of the film "Crash." He said he felt "Crash" gave him a platform to really launch himself as a serious actor, "not just another rapper acting." My guess that's a dig at Ice-T and his role in Law and Order, or perhaps LL Cool J in that smart shark movie.
But seriously, I'm curious. Does anyone foresee an acting future for our Ludicrous? Has any rapper-gone-actor made it? Maybe Will Smith, but "Independence Day" is still the worst movie I've ever seen... Ever... Horrible...
Pet Peeve #221:
When people shorten short-forms.
For example, A&W. Some people (I'm not naming names *coughirritatingguyonskibuscough*) feel the need to shorten it further to "eh 'n dub" (pronunciation).
Is this necessary?
Hurrah for Ralph!
I'm getting my $400 Alberta Resource Rebate payment! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Before this, a grouchy lady told me over the phone I'd need proof of my Alberta residency, and to call back on March 31st, which I learned this morning is the last cheque mail-out date. Lady was trying to work me over! But just now a sweet, soft spoken lady told me I was and I would be getting it after March 31st!
I practically hugged her through the phone. "Oh hurrah! You made my day!" I screamed. She just sort of said, "Yea, okay, bye." But I know she would've hugged me if she could've.
It doesn't get much better than this:
You know you've got a bosom buddy in someone when they send you an email like this:
"I hope you know that I’d cho-cho-choose you as my non-lebsian life partner any day."
Now that's love.
I've been Tagged
Ash tagged me! I read my name online! Wahoo! So this one's for you, Ash:
Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:
1. Babysitter-extraordinaire. Blech. Hated most days/nights. Stinky kids.
2. HPL, Locke Library, Page.
3. HPL, Locke and Westdale Library, Literacy Worker.
4. Internship Librarian.
Four Places I've Lived:
1. Hammer-town, Ontario
2. Halifax, Nova Scotia
3. Haliburton, Ontario (2 months as a counselor at YMCA Wanakita, a sleep-over camp.)
4. Edmonton, Alberta.
Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. Hotmail.
2. Blogger.
3. Livejournal.
4. Google.
Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:
1. Southampton, Ontario (cottage).
2. Nuevo Vallerta, Mexico.
3. Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.
4. Holguin, Cuba.
Four of My Favorite Foods:
1. Chips.
2. Turkey dinner.
3. Home-made macaroni and cheese.
4. My mum's chili.
Four Places I'd Rather Be:
1. Right now? At home, under the covers, with a kitty named Gary, and another certain someone...
2. Later today? At Safeway, getting supplies for a Valentine's day surprise.
3. Immediate future? Here or there (my never ending internal battle.)
4. Distant future? The Cook Islands.
Four Albums/Artists I Can't Be Without:
1. Dave Matthews, Crash.
2. Sophie Ellis Bextor, Read My Lips.
3. Gwen Stefani, Love, Angel, Music, Baby.
4. Gypsy Kings, Greatest Hits
Four Vehicles I've Owned:
(This one's going to hurt...)
1. A 1986 Cabbage Patch Kids Big Wheel.
2. A 1988 BMX, Pink, with rear breaks and handle bar glitter.
3. A 2002 Kona Lanai mountain bike, white, with shimano deraileurs.
4. Bus tickets.
Sniff...
Four People I'm Tagging:
1. Hurr_ah.
2. Pants.
3. Manriassa (biatch).
4. The Law.
Thanks, Ash. Good times.
The Grammys
Some post-Grammy thoughts:
1) If I had my life to do over again, I'd be a back-up dancer. It took all I had not to get off the couch last night and bust-out some moves to the opening Madonna-Gorillaz act (well, I actually might have done a little dancing...) Speaking of Madonna, she is beyond fab-tabulous. I mean, really, anyone who can bring back "the hustle" is amazing.
2) I think Bono stuffs his pants. Either that or he reeeeally enjoys the grammys.
3) I'm going to put this out there. Paul McCartney: it's time to retire.
4) I'm in love with James Blunt and his song "You're Beautiful."
For the inquiring minds...
Thanks for all those who have asked, but no, the card venture was not successful. I sold 8 cards, 3 of which were to Adam's mum and Hurr_ah. The reasons for this are three fold:
1) February is not what you would call "high-season" for the market. We were told by surrounding vendors the crowd was down to 25% of it's regular size. It would seem both February and March are slow... Which makes it hard for any new-comer. Why, you ask?! Well, because a crafter only gets in when a regular vendor leaves for vacation, which is usually in the slow season. But then you can't be choosy with your booths or your timing, because if you turn down a booth when it's offered, you will not be given a second chance, and you'll be black-listed (the entire place is political--we were approached by a number of people offering us bits of nasty insider information, and the names of people who would "support us" and the names of those we should stay away from because they're 'catty and mean and she made me take the tea-pots off my stand because I didn't make them, can you believe that?! omg...) But then you're forced to fork over $32 in table fees for three months, putting up with sub-par crowds, selling 8 cards, until things pick up, for the chance to be booted come April to make room for more Spring produce.
2) People weren't into my cards.
3) I was sick.
The kicker: last night I was watching TV and all I wanted to do was pick up my pencil crayons and make a card for my Aunt's birthday, but I forced myself to leave them where they were. This card business-thing is sucking the fun and the creativity out of drawing for me, and I hate that! I hate that I'm resentful of my markers because to do anything with them means I'm working. Now, anytime I pick up my markers or colored paper, I'm keeping track of my time, and worrying I'm wasting ink, and tallying how much new markers will cost me if I happen to use them all up on this one project and blah blah blah...
Also: everyone was full of "suggestions." How to improve my cards. What I can do to make them better. Friendly suggestions like, "my neighbor makes cards, and she uses calligraphy. You should use calligraphy. They'd look better if you used calligraphy." Or "you should have more/less blank cards. People love/hate blank cards. Everyone/no one wants a blank card." I miss the day when I would make someone a card and they'd be happy, and it would make them smile. I don't like people looking at my cards thinking, "She actually thinks this is worth $3.50?!"
My favorite card is my cowboy card. It's got a cowboy on the front, and little arrows pointing out his features--chaps, ten gallon hat, spurs, lasso, five-o'clock shadow, etc. II love my cowboy card. But on Saturday, I watched a woman pick up that card and make a face--an ugly smirk--and it took all I had not to rip it from her hands and tell her she couldn't appreciate a card like that if it was shoved up her [*censored*] because that's against the market rules and is reason for expulsion from the premises. So is parking where you're not supposed to, and having a table cloth that sits 6" from the floor...
I'm not in this for the ugly smirks and constructive criticism. I don't know what I was in it for. But as it stands, we're going back this weekend, and I'm bundling my cards with ribbon and trying my darndest just to get rid of them... I want this thing to be over with. I don't like lying awake at night thinking about it. I don't like the stress it gives me. I like my job, and I worked damn hard to get it. I'm not hoping to leave the library world behind to live off my card profits, and I'm not willing to add this stress to my life.
Here's hoping I can get rid of 'em.
Thanks for asking.
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