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!

Am I the only one not buying a house? Fo real?

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.

Poll Time Again...

Is Caribbean pronounced 'CARE-A-BE-AN' or 'CA-RIBB-I-AN'?

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...

If someone's out there... Say something positive... Please? Anything?

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!

I'm so freaking mad I could punch something! I seriously just want to run until my lungs burst, and kick something in the nuts.

Let's talk about something cheerier...

Last night I received my long awaited order from amazon. It's the Frances audio collection. It's a father's day gift for my padre. That's a happy thing.

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...

Waterton

Back from three days at Waterton National Park.
Holy doodle. It's my favorite place on earth.

You can see my pictures HERE and HERE.

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.

I'm sick.

Poo.

>: (

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...

Can something seriously be this cute?

Cute Overload

Certain people brighten your lives. They make you smile, and make you laugh, and make you realize how you miss them when you don't seem them because they're in Kerrobert.

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.

Is anyone out there going to the CLA conference?

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.

Get ready for an over-share:





Once a week I inevitably put my underwear on inside out.

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...

Confession:

I am 26 years old, and I still enjoy a good Easter egg hunt.

Oh, the shame.

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."

Dose no one else remember Monchichi?!

Seriously.

I mean, really.

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.

Whatever happened to Sparky Polastri?

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."

I've had the stuff to make bran muffins in my cupboard for the last two weeks, and I keep putting it off. I think my brain is sending me subconscious messages--"Scrap the braaaaan. Bring on the cupcakes..." Mmmm. Cupcakes.

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.

So.

It begins.

Tomorrow.

7:30 a.m.

Yours truly will be at the Farmer's Market flogging cards.

Excited.

p.s. I've spent a lot of money (well, not a lot, but a fair amount), on toys for Gary, but he only likes playing with pipe cleaners... We call them his "Wilson's" after the volleyball from that Tom Hanks movie, "Cast Away".

Hmmm...

... When you type the word "Holes" into a keyword search, you get an awful lot of books about "our bodies."

Gross.

A little something for my Pants:

“I stand, cold and unfeeling, on plaster casts—that which contain the hallow pits of my heart. Sledgehammers shatter my hopes of true love, and take with them my knees.”

Snaps.

Pet Peeve #132:

The use of brand-name bags as lunch sacks.

This is for all you lunch-goers out there who tote Banana Republic, Sephora, Club Monaco, and Tristan and America paper bags day in day out, like you've been on a shopping spree all year long. We all know what you have in there! It's no surprise! It's your lunch! We're not impressed by you simply because eight years ago you bought over priced nylons from Holt Renfrew.

Sure, I get that they're sturdy. But then why not use your Wine Depot paper bags? Hmmm? Or by yourself one of those nifty cloth sacks? Or one of those ultra cool hard top lunch boxes? I'm proud of my Safe Way plastic bag. It's a way of reusing them... Lord knows I have enough of them.

But to the girl on the bus this morning who had gone so far as to tape up her disintegrating Bebe paper bag... Not cool.

I hope this is a trend that dies quickly. Along with the fashion mullet.

It's the small things. Like when someone comes home from working a night shift, and before crawling into bed, they go to the kitchen to make you a fresh pot of coffee for when you get up. I mean, really? What's better than that?

P.S. An update on the Farmer's Market: the lady never called back, so Nikki and I are working under the assumption we don't have a table for Saturday. Hurrah! And yet boo...

WTF?

Things have escalated much faster than they were supposed to.

Farmer's Market lady called last night to tell us we had a booth for Saturday if we wanted it... Whatthef? I thought it was supposed to be a year?! I thought I had months to build up a sizable card collection?! It would seem not. And would it be foolish to say no? Would they "black ball" us from future markets? Would our name come off the list, and would we henceforth be known as "those girls who said no?"

It's not a chance Nikki is willing to take. Thus, my not having a life for the next two days. Instead, I will be at the market on Saturday pushing whatever number of cards I can madly make after work between now and Saturday at 8:00 a.m.

Last night I had a sweatshop of sorts set up. Adam and Gary were unbelievably helpful--Adam cut all my paper and folded cards (I'm so lucky to have him...), and Gary managed not to pee on anything but his litter. However, I now have a claw of sorts from using the scissors for 3 hours straight... Sigh. No one said it would be like this...

Last night Nikki and I had a meeting with the people from the Farmer’s Market to potentially sell our cards. It was quite the experience. Based on the phone message we got from the lady in charge, Nikki and I assumed that we’d show up and display our product to a panel of people who would judge us "acceptable" or "unacceptable". We’d be in and out of there in 45 minutes, tops.

Nope. Think again. We were so completely wrong.

We arrived at the market, to be faced with 25 other groups of people looking to get a table. Each “seller” was given a booth, and we were privately interviewed by maybe a half dozen judges. They asked us questions about our cards—some actually looked at them, others just stood staring at the table and said nothing. It was very bizarre, like an elementary school science fair. I was nervous and sweaty and I fidgeted. I glared at the lady next to us who gave out individually prepared bags of gourmet dog treats to the judges as a suck up. Damn suck ups.

Basically, they told us they’d let us know within a month if we were “accepted,” based on the scores given to us by the judges. Then we’re put on a waiting list, and it could be up to a year before a booth is available. Any longer than a year, and we’d have to re-apply. There are maybe 200-250 booths, and 157 are run by permanent sellers. Only 20% of the total booths are crafters, so I gather it’s a tough group to crack.

Overall, however, after wandering around and looking at the competition last night, I think we had the best craft. There was a man selling rain barrels, and a bit of a nutter selling bath salts (which she kept making me sniff, which in turn made me sneeze.) Another lady was selling meatballs, and a man who looked like a chubby Weird Al had quite possibly the ugliest art on the planet. But, it takes all kinds, right Pants? We all have our gifts...

Introducing..

...Gary!

Enjoy.

Welcome Mushy

We got a kitty!
So cute. So tiny. So fluffy. Such big fuzzy feet.

I want to name him "Billy the Kitten."
Adam likes "Dude."
I think we'll settle on "Mu Shu," with "Mushy" for short.

He looks like this:

Ver Ver Exciting!

Where to begin?

1) There was some excitement on my bus this morning. A lady sitting two seats down from me found a needle under her seat. So we pulled over, right in front of the fire station, and four firemen in their uniforms and fire jackets came on board and "took care of the situation." It was very intense. Not to mention a nice way to start the morning--forget the needle, who doesn't love a man in uniform? I was grinning like a drunk woman.

2) I'm wearing my new Christmas clothes to work today. A pair of grey and pink pinstripe pants I got from the Gap for $10 and my pointy black boots, both purchased during a boxing day binge. I'm feeling rather tall and slim. I'll keep you posted on the condition of my feet after 8 hours of work on 3 inch heels. So far so good.

3) Adam and I purged last night. Not our bodies, but our apartment. We got home from dinner and took down our Christmas tree, shook out our carpet, cleaned out cupboards full of crap we don't use, and ridded our closests of the clothes we don't wear. I have a whole bag full of sweaters, if anyone is interested.

I'm feeling good today. Hurrah!

Things I Do Not Enjoy:

(This is a list of one)

1) The middle seat on an airplane, sandwiched in between two strangers, nowhere to put your legs for four excruciating hours.

Happy Over-Rated Day!

I'm not being negative. Really, I'm not! I'm actually looking forward to New Year's this year. My mum, dad, and best friend Heather and I are all going for dinner someplace where there is no menu, only a prepared five course dinner, where you have your choice between one of two salads/soups/appetizers/main courses/desserts. It's called "Dody's Oyster Bar & Grill." Don't be fooled by the name, however, I won't be eating oysters... My mum and I went to the new and improved Art Gallery here, and there was a contemporary piece (if that's what you can call it) of a recording of a kid chewing and sucking on an raw oyster. I won't soon forget that. Even the thought of it makes my stomach turn.

On that cheery note, have a wonderful new year, everyone, be you in the Hammer, Edmonton, Saskamatoon, Innisfail, Calgary, Mexico, Taiwan, or wherever WM has run off to with his beautiful wife.

I love you guys. You make things better.

Reunion

I'm going out with high school friends tonight. I went to St. Mary's, so we're affectionately referred to as "Smarians."

Totally bizarre. I haven't seen many of these people in the last 8 years, so it's going to be weird. I saw this one guy last week at a pub, and he got up and screamed across the table, "Library Lady, you haven't changed since I last saw you in grade 13! Not one bit!" I don't know if that's a good thing or not...

I'm wearing my new Christmas clothes... Hopefully they'll make me look a bit better than the dumpy kilt I used to sport. Here's hoping!

Wish me luck!

Merry Christmas, everybody! I'll leave you with an image from my all time favorite Christmas Movie, "Christmas Comes But Once A Year," from the Cartoon Festival, Volume 6. And a quote from the movie's song:

Christmas comes but once a year,
Now it's here, now it's here!
Bringing lots of joy and cheer,
Tra-la-la-la-la.

You and me, and he and she,
And we are glad becuase,
Why because, because, because,
There is a Santy Clause,
Ohhhh...

Christmas comes but once a year,
Now it's here, now it's here!
Bringing lots of joy and cheer,
Tra-la-la-la-la.

Christmas Miracle

It would appear I know the answer to the question of my fish's laziness. She was pregnant. She wasn't pouting, or depressed, but full of little fishy baby Jesus' (is that sacrilegious?) Actually, only one fishy baby Jesus. And then she died... Bringing life into her tiny aquatic universe, she kicked the bucket. Now father fish has taken baby fish under his wing, like that scene from Bambi.

'Tis the season.

Something very funny happened to Adam the other day. He went snowboarding in Jasper with a buddy from work, and his buddy's daughter. She's twelve, and a tomboy, and very shy.

I guess Adam was sitting on a bench at the back door, waiting for the two of them to collect their stuff and pack their lunches. The bench faces the basement stairs, where I gather this twelve year-olds room is... Anywho, she comes hurtling up the stairs, and just as she's about to pass Adam, he takes the opportunity to introduce himself...

"Hi," he says.

She gets so flustered, she manages a, "Hi," before tripping on the top step and falling ass over teakettle, banging her chin on the kitchen table. She's so embarrassed, she runs away outside.

I almost died for her when he told me that story--I know I'm biased because he's mine, but I can just imagine it: I was that awkward twelve year-old, and there in your kitchen sits a cute snowboarder who's talking to you and you're trying to be cool and you end up screwing it all up and doing the worst imaginable thing. Oh man... I guess he felt pretty bad. A sad (yet funny) story.

How I Live Now

I had to do this book as an entry, not just as my book-a-licious entry, because it's so overwhelmingly good. You need to go out and read this book, and recommend it to every single one of the teenagers/adults you know. It's one of those stories that will haunt me forever. I know it.

Has anyone else read it? If you do, or have, please post what you think here--I'd love to talk to someone about it: How I Live Now, by Meg Rosoff.

Quick and Dirty

Yes, I said it. Why, you ask? Because it seemed the thing to do. I've been in training this past week, and every single solitary professional I've come in contact with has used it in one context or another: in describing a book; in describing their teaching technique; in explaining what we'd be doing over the course of the next hour; in explaining how the coffee maker works...

It creeps me out. I don't think we're given our "shushes" when we graduate, I think we're given the rights to the saying, "quick and dirty." Like we feel we have some responsibility to inflict this terrible phrase on the population as a whole.

Has anyone else encountered this phenomena?

Rebel Angels

I'm in the last 1/4 of a really good book, and I can't stop thinking about it. I even had a dream about it last night! It's the second in a series I featured a couple of weeks ago in my book-a-licious column called, "A Great and Terrible Beauty." This is the second instalment, "Rebel Angels." It's even better than the first, I think, which is weird, becuase usually the first is better... With the excpetion of perhaps "The Godfather" and "The Godfather: Part II" which seriously rivaled the first.

I'm almost sad that it's coming to an end. I've slowed down in my reading just to make it last longer. Don't you just love that?!

Ramona hits the big screen!

Log Love

It's that time of year again--channel 18 has started their Christmas log and holiday music marathon. For those of you in Taiwan and not able to experience the wonderful-ness that is this station, it's basically a TV channel completely dedicated to a 2 minute looping of a burning log in a fireplace, perfectly blended with Christmas tunes. I love it. It makes me giddy. Oh Christmas, how I love thee. Three cheers for the log. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Odd

I was watching Star TV last night--the classiest of classy TV stations--and I learned that Mayim Bialik, the girl who played Blossom on the self-named TV show, left Hollywood in 2000, and has recently completed her PhD in Neuroscience...

Did anyone see that one coming? I certainly didn't.

Squeaking and Meowing

It's finally happened. Yesterday, while I was at Southgate doing a little Christmas shopping, Adam found a mouse in our apartment. Granted, I was prepared for this, as there are holes in our walls filled with steel wool by the previous tenants, and granted, it's a very old building and thus bound to be full of mice. But last night as I was getting ready for bed, I was spooked, convinced every sound I heard was the hum of giant mice pillaging my walls.

Needless to say, his pizza box mouse trap--although caked with three day-old cheese--proved ineffective. The mouse got away, and is now living it up somewhere in the building, no doubt giving birth to millions of mouse-lings who will someday return in a hostile take over of our apartment. Adam's back-up plan was to fetch the she-devil herself, Marley cat, who in all respects is usually a lean, mean ninja machine (she's been known to take on a German Sheppard or two in her day). It would seem, however, that her powers are tied to 7603 119th Street. Upon arriving at the apartment, kitty became a tiny lump, cowering beneath Adam's jacket, periodically releasing something that sounded like a deflating bagpipe. Every once in a while she'd come out to rub her face against yours, making sure you were still there in case she needed you.

Sigh. In my hour of need, kitty failed me. Damn her for being so cute in her ninja pants.

Goodbye Pretty Lesbian

Kim got the boot from "America's Next Top Model" last night. This makes me sad for two reasons, 1) I really wanted her to win, and 2) Bre, the irritating, conniving, you-know-what is still there. Sigh. As my Gramma would say, she'll get her comeuppance. One can only hope...

And now for something completely different: I can't stand it when someone, say someone sitting at your lunch table, scraps every last tiny little itsy bitsy bit from their yogurt or applesauce container, making that horrible *sccccrrrraappppeeeeee*-ing sound. It drives me nutters.

Ohmygod...

Lord Tader? Tofu D2? Ham Solo? It doesn't get better than THIS!

#102

I live in Edmonton, and amongst our other climactic complexities, the winter brings with it an excruciating dryness. It’s unlike anything I’ve encountered before. You’re entire body itches and flakes until eventually you find yourself with a ruler down your back trying to reach that spot on your back that your stumpy arms can’t reach. I slather myself with much too much lotion. This brings me to my point:

Item #102 on my “Things That Bug Me” List: lotion plugs. Those little nubbins of lotion that get caught in the nose of the pump, and ooze out into your hand leaving you with that little nugget of hard moisturizer. You’re forced to either a) flick it from your hand, to be found a week later stuck to the bathroom wall in the midst of your weekly clean, or b) rub it into your hands, leaving you with little chunky bits stuck into between your rings and your fingers.

Ew and gross and all things ick.

Tra-La

Heather is here. Tra-la. This makes me very happy. As much as I love and adore my Edmonton buddies--and don't get me wrong here, you're the icing on my Alberta cake (including the ones in Calgary and Saskatoon)--there's something very cathartic about having someone around who's known you since you were three apples tall; who's seen you through your worst, and nursed you out of it; who was there when you wore track suits and Micromachines were the coolest.

On another note, I've added two new sidebars to my blog. I hope you enjoy them...

Drama

I hate it when people make situations more difficult than they need to be. In one context or another--organizing an event, relationships--I have no use for it. Drama makes things difficult, and it makes getting things done down right impossible. This rant comes to you courtesy of work.

Lets say you're trying your dandiest to plan, say, um, I don't know... "An event." Let's call it an event. And then, out of the blue, someone comes along and says "Frances, you need to look at the bigger picture," even though looking at said bigger picture is really not what you're trying to do, and the bigger picture is completely unfathomable for the time frame you're working in.

(And really, the bigger picture isn't your concern, but the concern of that someone.)

And let's just say that someone comes back and says, "and don't forget you'll have to do this, and this, and get this, and we'll need to arrange meetings with him, and her, and it all has to be done sensitively, because there's the bigger picture to look at here, and blah friggin' blah."

But you darn well know, right around the corner, there's someone doing the exact thing you're trying to do, and they didn't have to call him or her. And they didn't have to buy gifts for them or they or get food and funding. And they didn't use fancy words or sensitivity training or have to consider the bigger picture. They just picked up the phone and arranged it. Full stop. A wonderful event. No hassle. No drama.

Maybe some people should stop creating extra work for themselves. Some people should learn that while the bigger picture is wonderful, sometimes it's just nice to stop the chit chat and actual do something productive. To quote that awful song from the Black Eyed Peas: "You don't want no drama, no, no drama, no, no, no, no drama."

p.s. Is my italics use excessive? Was the use of the italics on excessive, excessive?

I've Finally Seen It...

Hurrah, Pants, and I went to see Pride and Prejudice last night. I won't say much, except the entire movie is ruined in one small, 2 minute concluding scene. Boo.

But I will say this: Keira Knightly annoys the heck out of me. She's so angry all the time! Or at least, she always looks angry, with her squinty eyes and weirdo mouth. They should have left her out of the movie. I was distracted by her snarling gob and Domino Harvey haircut poking out from beneath her 19th century up-doo wig. Couldn't someone have fixed this? I know I wasn't the only one who saw it. Sheesh.

(Mind you, I was also looking for anything to feed my Keira loathing...)

Who Knew?

Last night I sat on the couch with Adam and watched Lost, and ate chips, and drank red wine. Let me tell you, all dressed Ruffles and red wine go well together. Who knew? Not me. It said nothing on the bottle about being a “dessert wine.” I’m as surprised as you are.

Adam has suggested we write a book matching chips with wines. One of them classy coffee table ones with big shiny pictures of people on their fancy French couches with their pocket sized dogs, showing off their homes and their wealth. Except in our book, on the coffee table next to the Faberge Egg will be a bowl of Cheese Pleasers and a bottle of merlot. Adam’s convinced there’s a niche for us there.

What do you think? Can I take any pre-production orders?

It's the uniform from highschool...

... That's what got me. I wanted to be Maximus Deciums Meridius (*said with a husky voice*) from Gladiator. Oh well. Is William Wallace even really an action hero? I guess he has a costume, and the blue face is pretty cool, but he doesn't have any sort of trademark move. And it's the trademark move is what makes it. Wonderwoman's crossed arms? Buzz Lightyears karate chop action? Heman's sword thingy? What does William have? Riding across a field on a horse... Good times.

You scored as William Wallace. The great Scottish warrior William Wallace led his people against their English oppressors in a campaign that won independence for Scotland and immortalized him in the hearts of his countrymen. With his warrior's heart, tactician's mind, and poet's soul, Wallace was a brilliant leader. He just wanted to live a simple life on his farm, but he gave it up to help his country in its time of need. William Wallace 75% Maximus 71% Captain Jack Sparrow 63% Indiana Jones 50% Neo, the "One" 50% James Bond, Agent 007 46% Lara Croft 46% El Zorro 42% Batman, the Dark Knight 38% The Amazing Spider-Man 33% The Terminator 29% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

One down...

I've been feeling like I needed to do something new and drastic lately. So I did it. I made contact with someone I haven't talked to in a very long time. And I'm glad I did. Who knows what will come of it, but it can only be better than what it was.

I hate having unfinished business. You know what I mean? Little threads of your life hanging there... Waiting to be snipped and tucked. I lay there at night thinking about them, and watch them wear away at me like orange juice in an empty tummy. Who knows? Maybe I'll sleep better tonight.

...Only another umpteen million to go.

Revenge Will Be Mine!

I'm in a hockey pool at work and a certain someone, let's call her MEV... No, no, that's too obvious... How about 80-Power-Point-Slides-In-A-3-Minute-Presentation-Girl, is beating me. I'm in 8th, and she's in 4th.

I can't tell you how upset this makes me. Now, I admit that I'm a competitive person. Anyone who's played games with me might have noticed the bulging vein that appears on my forehead when I lose. But I've managed to get things under control since my childhood... I no longer cry. Or bite (except Adam, of course, and that's just because he should know better than to win against me)... But this 8th vs. 4th place thing really chaps my cheeks. I can't lose to her! I must win! I must come out on top! I MUST BE VICTORIOUS! MUUHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(*pant*pant*pant*)

Wow. Um... Yea, so I'm sorry you had to see that... (*scuffing toe*) It's just, well, you know... I want to win.

Um... yea. So, go me! Wahoo!

Today's the 501 tour of MNA. Ha! Too cute... Little wee babies, don't know what they're in for. I wonder what they'll think of us dressed as a garden, puss in boots, and the paperbag princess?

Poll Time:

Do you say caramel (care-a-mel) or caramel (car-a-mul)?

Ha!

Oh man... THIS is funny!

A baby so tiny I could pick him up with one hand was wandering around work today. He was wearing a bib, and little leather walking shoes. It took me a couple of minutes to find his mum.

What's wrong with people? Seriously... This child was at the most 8 months old. He was barely walking, and certainly in no place to be wandering around downtown buying lattes and browsing for a new romance, or whatever it was he was doing.

I was so upset, I was shaking, and I almost said something inappropriate to his mum when I finally found her... On the computer with another woman, their backs to the door and their child.

Ragin

I haven't posted in awhile, so I'm going to rage a bit about a couple of things. I've had some recent clarity about stuff since catching a cold... Must come from all that nose blowing. Speaking of which...

1) Once you go Puffs with lotion, there's no going back. Everything else seems like sandpaper being scrubbed furiously against your face, or scratchy bed sheets you get at Walmart thinking they'll soften once you wash 'em, but then they never do. My nose is so red right now, you'd think I was Rudolph, for pete's sake. If they weren't $5 million dollars a box (not really, but still...) I'd make a stylish coat of Puffs with lotion and wear it every day.

2) I can't stand the new girly VJ on Much Music, Leah (pronounced like the princess from Star Wars.) She makes me want to punch and kick. I've never had such a violent reaction to someone before, but she's bringing out the worst in me! She's so cutsey, and she never covers her naval, and she's always looking for a camera to stare into and see herself smile her sideways look-at-me-I'm-the-cutest smile... Rage!

3) Lost is the best show on TV.

4) I don't like spoiled children, and I hate admitting it, but it's true. I can't handle it. Kids who whine and cry when they're not getting exactly what they want, and the parents and adults who feed into it... "What do you want? Is it this? Is it this? How 'bout this?!" Actually, maybe I need to rephrase and say it's not the kids I don't like, it's the adults who make them like that. Yup. That's it.

Your thoughts on any of these?

I'm feeling anxious and nervous and sad all rolled into one. My tummy in a pretzel. Like the chair has been yanked from under me and I try and grab what's closest, but it's just not close enough. Worst of all, I feel like it's all being played out in slow motion so I can see it happening, step by falling step.

The thing of it is, it's not even my chair to fall out of, but I feel like I'm riding it with him. And it hurts so bad to see him--the one person in the world I sometimes catch myself staring at thinking "who are you and did I ever think it could get this good?"--looking so completely... Crushed.

There's nothing I can say. I just gotta be there to pick us both up when he tells me he needs it.