No regrets

Do you ever think about what you wanted to be when you were a kid? Is it anything like the job you currently do? If not, do you ever see yourself doing what it is you thought you were going to be?

When I was little (like, really little) I was pretty fixated on the Peace Corps. I have no idea where this idea came from. I might have chalked it up to Dirty Dancing, but that movie didn't come out until we were on Hess Street (I remember the argument between Beef and mum and whether or not she would be allowed to see it.) That, and I distinctly recall telling my ECE teacher, Mrs. Settle (except with my lisp I pronounced it Mithith Thettle...) that I was going to go around the world with the Peace Corps.

Then in grade six, I decided to be a Zoologist. Mr. Grey asked us to draw ourselves 20 years in the future (pfft...) and to describe our lives as we thought they would be. I envisioned a very "green" house, complete with compost, veggie patch (I remember painstakingly drawing the carrots with dull crayons), and a wrap-around porch.

I was lost in high school. No plans. Panic ensued.

University. Developed a mild obsession with the Lonely Planet (and... le sigh... Ian) and decided (again) that I would travel the world as a tour guide, a boyfriend in every country.

It took seven years shelving books, six summers as a literacy worker, and a manager in a pear tree to convince me that library is as library does--and hence, a librarian was born. Although substantially more planted than originally intended, I do have plans for a veggie patch on my veranda (porch? deck? balcony?) And September holidays will take me somewhere... As for the boyfriend... Hee!

And for the record, I don't regret the decision, no matter how far from the original plan I've come.

Confused:

Does anyone understand why in the movie Grease, during the song "Grease Lightning", Danny Zuko runs around with a roll of plastic wrap? Is it in connection to his hair, or is it in reference to the car? See minute 2:26:



I'm so confused...

p.s. I'm totally a Kenickie girl.

Three Very Different Things

1. You know how some music just speaks to you? Well, I'm telling you, the Kate Nash album "Made of Bricks" is one of the best farking things to land in my lap since the cheesie and Belly's baby, Isa-bun (I'm calling her Isa-bun because she smells yummy, and she's warm like fresh, hot buns.) Do yourself a favour and get your hands on it--specifically songs 8 and 9: "Shit Song" and "Pumpkin Soup."

2. This one's kinda gross, so cover your eyes or stop reading here if you're of a weak constitution: have you ever driven by highway road kill and wondered how in the name of heaven that raccoon GOT in the middle of the entrance ramp to the QEW/403? I mean, honestly, these are animals that thrive on garbage... What could they possibly have been searching for on the highway clover? It's gotta be gang related.

3. I think this business with the new boy has to end. He got a bit mad at me on the phone yesterday because of a mis-communication (he thought we had plans, I thought we had plans to talk...) I felt like saying to him, "Um, I've met you three times... I'm pretty sure there's a statute of limitations on when you can start getting mad at a potential boyfriend/girlfriend." That, and where exactly did he think we were going to mini-putt at 8:30 pm on a Sunday?

The last thing I need is guilt (I put plenty of that on myself without others contributing, thank you very much.) Not to mention the things he's said that make me go "hmmm..." (to quote C&C Music Factory.) Sketch city, Man. He may be a looker, and he may smell really (really) good, but there's nothing kosher about uncomfortables...

This dating thing is vair confus-a-mundo.

Having the Hump Scale

1. Ignorez vousing.
2. Sniffing (in an "I told you so" way).
3. Head tossing and fringe fiddling.
4. Cold shoulderosity work.
5. Midget gems all round, but not for you.
6. Pretendy deafnosity.
7. Walking on ahead.
8. The quarter humpty (evils).
9. The half humpty dumpty (evils and withdrawal of all snacks).
10. The full humpty dumpty (walking away with dignitosity at all times).

Movie is due out late 2008, Chums. Click HERE for previews and a Stiff Dylans video.

p.s. Please hit me if I ever become as irritating as Jas with my fringe.
p.p.s. The new book is titled Stop in the Name of Pants!!!

Rockin' Out

I'm trying this new gig where I don't blog at night, to see if it helps with my sleeping--something my doctor said about getting my mind to relax before I actually crawl into bedders. So for the next little while, look for new posts shortly after 9:00 am, k?

On that note (me being an old woman with sleep issues), I'm on a new "classic rock" kick. Maybe it's BSB's influence, I don't know (although there's not much Parliament on my repertoire...) Specifically, I'm digging Elvis. Even more specifically, I like to get up in the morning and rock out to "That's Alright, Mama" in the shower:



I know for shizzle if I was around when Elvis looked as he did in that black catsuit, I would have been smitten as a kitten. Like me moms.

Anyone with me?

List-o-rama

I'm a slacker! I know, I know. Forgive?

What? No? You won't forgive? C'mon... Forgive... Stop pouting, Susie!

How 'bout a list to make up for it?

1. As many of you might already know, a coworker graciously made me an apple cozy. And then of course after seeing my apple cozy, everyone in the lunchroom wanted one too. So another coworker took it upon herself to mass produce cozies, and now, what with our cozies and the library switchblades we were all given during renovations (more like faux Swiss Army knives, but I think it's funnier to call them switchblades), I've suggested we start a gang. A cozy gang. Because that's the way we roll. Word.

2. I'm determined to be more bike-ly this summer. I have a perfectly nice bicycle that was tuned up and spiffed up and shined up last season, yet sat lonely and sad in my basement. I'm going to actively start riding again (I say again because before Yaris, it was my bike or bust). Not only because I'm a friend of David Suzuki's (WWDSD), but because I think it will help maintain my healthy butters and movie star legs (thanks again, mom!)

3. Something else I'm going to start doing on a regular basis: watching National Geographic. Fingers and I got to discussin' this the other day (over falafel). There are so many fantastic NG films out there, most of which the library owns. I'm hoping they'll expand my horizons, and my trivia skills.

4. I came in second in the euchre tourney, b*tches. Much to Poomobile's dismay. I think she's worried her chick has flown the nest. Little does she know I still have so much to learn. I hope she'll still be my sensei...?

5. And that's it.

Was off today... Appologies for not posting.

There's only one thing I loath more than people who tell me to "relax"...

... Searching for my mother in a big box store.

Today, while I was sampling the shoe department, mother casually mentioned she'd be "over there". By the time I'd looked up, she'd beetled off "over there", White Shoulders lingering in the air.

I spent the next 25 minutes roaming the store for her. In between the clothing racks, up and down the walkways, standing in the open areas combing the display cases for a spiky haired woman dressed in black and metallics.

I try her cell phone. It's not on. Of course.

I move to the front of the store near the cash. I have her things, so she can't check out without me.

Nothing.

I move to the back of the store, near the shoes where I'd left her.

She has me paged: "Will Library Lady please meet her party at the front of the store. Library Lady, your party is waiting for you at the front of the store."

I turn pink. I hear her... "Library Lady?!"... "Liiiiibrary Lady..."

We're reunited. "Where have you BEEN?!" she asks.

*grits teeth*

Every. Time. Every time. Always.

Happy Birfday, Free Samples!

I've only got Hungry Eyes for you...

*wink*

Off to bedders for some sleep, sleep, sleep. Wasn't going to post, but that felt weird.

So...

Post, post, post.

Post.

...

...

...

Post.

S'laters. Night night.

Judging a book by it's cover...

In light of my current sleep issues, I thought I'd put down the vampire and secret society fiction for something a bit... mmm... "lighter".



So I went to my bookshelves this evening and looked for a tried, tested, and true friend: There's a Bat in Bunk Five, by Paula Danzinger.



And I gots to say... I think this is the first time I've really ever LOOKED at the cover. Honestly. It has to be the most unattractive cover. Like, ever. Since the dawn of time. How could I ever have possibly picked this up and think, "hmm... yes, that looks good!"



What do you think?

Congratu-frickin-lations

Move over, folks, there's a new bebeh in town. And this time, I think I can safely say I have some legitimate claims. Not just "oh, yeah, okay, just let her hold the bebeh for a minute because we sort of know her and she looks strong enough to support the head..."

*ahem*

Mr. and Mrs. Beef are having... a calf.

Holla!

I'm sort of excited. Only sort of. Hardly at all. Except all the time when I'm jumping up and down and cheering and buying ridiculous things like tiny pairs of jeans and wee cowboy boots.

I hope the bebeh has ham hock legs like Isabelle.

I hope the bebeh smells like warm buns.

I hope the bebeh has snack-pack cheeks that I want to smooch and eat.

I hope the bebeh likes me...

... What if they don't like me? What if they're too cool for me? What if they can smell the desperate, and how badly I want them to love me the mostest out of all they're assorted relatives?

*wrings hands*

Beef, you better make sure your fat bebeh likes his/HER auntie pork chop best of all...

*jumps up and down a bit more*

I'm having trouble sleeping...

Like, big trouble. Like, we're talking, it's 3:00 in the morning and I'm still *plink plink* wide awake. Who knows what's going on in this head of mine. It's not the apartment--I feel ridiculously safe and cosy (and the sleeplessness started before I moved out). It's not the job--same old, same old there. It's not money--FS worked me an extra $1300 from the government and I just got a raise. And Fingers is moving home so clearly I can't chalk it up to missing her...

But last night at 1:20 a.m. I realized it was going to be another sleepless night. So I got up, drove to Shoppers Drug Mart in my strawberry pajamas (sans underwear I might add... I'm sure I was a delightful sight...) and bought Graval. I popped two in the store while I was pulling out my cash.

All in all, I was pretty impressed with myself, especially when I realized that round trip, it only took 7 minutes. An hour and a half later (is it possible to have a Graval immunity?) I was fast asleep.

*uses hands as scales*

7 minutes in bed, tossing and turning? 7 minutes in the car, buying drugs?

I think I made the right choice.

Tonight I ran hard uphill for nearly an hour. I've proactively taken three herbal sleep inducers (note I said "natural"), a cup of Sleepy Time Tea, plans are in place for a pre-sleep hot shower, and a of course, my warm bedders. Here's hoping I make it through the night.

And if anyone out there has had this issue before, please, please, please share your wisdom-osity with me... While I'm hoping I can ride this out without becoming an herbal addict, I'd like to do this without taking these supplements, full stop. I'm wondering if white noise would help? Maybe a fan, or that CD I used to love of thunderstorms?

p.s. Fingers talked me into the Octoberfest vacay. Although I'm still contemplating getting my tragus pierced on Saturday, I'm nervous it's going to affect the wearing of my ear buds.

Let's talk about the familiar, hmm?

There's something incredibly comfortable about the familiar. Those routines and schedules and orders in which we do things. I crave my routines: putting the conditioner in my hair and soaping around while waiting for the "aloe and pomegranate extracts" to set in; putting the milk in my large cup before the coffee; running after work; reading before bed; naps on Sundays; and dinner at 6:00.

I'll admit, I'm totally a creature of habit. Sometimes (usually?) to my own detriment. And I have no idea why I'm like this.

Well, no, that's a lie. I do know why I'm like this. Mama y papa come to mind--two lovely individuals who have sat in the same seat at church for the last 20 years. I know they account for some of my neurosis. The other misfit bits and pieces? Who knows... But whatever the origins, these habits stop me from trying things I otherwise should.

Susie and I gots to talking about this last night, and while I won't speak for her, I know I for one am in a bit of rut. Same old, same old. Bad habits, if you will, that need serious cleaning up. Problem being, I'm not too sure where to begin.

Part of me is a wee bit scared of what I don't know. Part of me is nervous I won't fit wherever it is I feel I need to be. Part of me just plain doesn't think the change will help--that whatever it is I'm waiting for while find me on its own.

Part of me is kinda excited.

Part of me knows I need this.

Part of me is still a sucker for the routine.

But now I'm babbling.

*sigh*

Maybe I'll wait for a sign. Until then, maybe I'll just make my lunch for tomorrow and put on Pride and Prejudice and... Good god, and I wonder why I'm in a FARKING RUT?!

June and Ward

'Twas a gooder of a night. The bestest kind, really. I did two loads of laundry AND my taxes!

Wo0t!

Well, to be fair FS did my taxes. She gets giggly over adding and multiplying so we busted out the paper forms and an extra sharp pencil and spent two hours getting crazy with the government. Holla for $1330 back!

Double wo0t!

FS and I should really get married. In the 1950s. I think I'd make a good June Cleaver, and she a handsome Ward. Tonight, while she rested her feet, I made dinner (tuna casserole and chocolate pudding). And then while she crunched my numbers, I folded her socks, worked up some dish pan hands, and entertained her friends (well, Fingers... more of a mutual friend, really.)

In other news, it's Friday. I'm 'cited. I lub the weekends. And much like the $1330, here's hoping there are a few pleasant weekend surprises coming my way. I guess you're gonna have to wait for Monday's post to find out!

SNL Giggles

Too funny.

Pants' suggestion was for me to post about SNL skits that I find funny. And wouldn't you know it, last night before I posted my writer's block entry, I was contemplating writing about my favorite SNL skits. Which as of late include:

Rock of Love II

AND

The Googly Eyes Gardner

Pretty much anything with Christopher Walken makes me laugh... His census sketch is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. But Amy Poehler is coming on strong with her portrayal of the guy from the Six Flags commercials in her Celebrity Apprentice sketch.

*twiddles thumbs*

That's it.

No post tonight.

Writer's block.

*saunters off in general direction of kitchen...*

Giggles

I love a good laugh.



And I mean honestly. It's not only, like, the most attractive thing (someone who makes me laugh basically owns me...) but it's just good sh*t. I love the feeling of my stomach hurting, cheeks aching, and eyes watering from a good ole' fashioned belly laugh.



So here are some SNL skits that as of late have made me laugh to the point of going incommunicato:



Christopher Walken's Googly Eyes Gardner



Rock of Love Parady

11:12 p.m.

I still make a wish at 11:11 (a.m. and p.m.) And I usually always wish for the same thing...

You?

Anyone who has ever said one of the following is not allowed to be friends with me:

"Relax..."

"Gentlemen, start your boners."

"I just don't 'get' kittens."

"Law and Order: Criminal Intent is better than Law and Order: Special Victims Unit." (Alright, fine. You can be friends with me, but only under the condition you admit you're stupid.)

"I know I shouldn't because he's married/in a relationship, but..."

"Okay, obviously the Indians are upset we took their land. But stop complaining already, and get a job."

"I eat to sustain."

Sillies

Trivia brings out the stupid in all of us:

Trivia Lady: In Margaret Atwood's famous futuristic novel, what name is given to women who are permitted to give birth?
Me: Oh wait! I know this... Um, what are the names of those chicks in the Handmaid's Tale?
Sparkle Motion Teammate: Handmaids?

Trivia Lady: In the classic Peanuts cartoon, what are the names of the three Van Pelt children?
Me: Hmmm... Would Charlie Brown be a Van Pelt?
Sparkle Motion Teammate: No. Because his last name would be BROWN...

Trivia Lady: What cat food uses the slogan, "It's so good, cat's ask for it by name"?
Free Samples: Oscar?
Me: When was the last time you heard a cat say "Oscar"?
Sparkle Motion Teammate: I'm going to go with Meow Mix on this one...

Also, Hurrah, I've just realized something... No more mini pizzas? No more ketchup? No more hang over McDonald's and fries with too much salt? Hurrah... I'm sad for you.

Sniff...

Let's all have a moment for Hurrah and her mini pizzas.

*moment*

And last but not least, I've decided to start giving my age in months. Today, I am 342 months old. This weekend, when I'm shopping in Toronto, I'm going to ask the sales clerk if "this shirt comes in sizes for a 342 month old? Or maybe for a 344 month old, because I don't want to buy this and grow out of it in two months, so maybe I should buy it a couple months too big..."