More to Come

So much to say about Bon Echo. Honestly, the bestest camping trip evah. H to the hoh yea! So much fun. But I'm gonna wait until I've gathered me some pictures before I post any real details. Until that time...

Is there anything better than a Caesar? I've always thought they were a tasty drink. More of a meal than something I'd scarf at the bar. But uber tasty, nonetheless. Fingers brought these canned ready-to-drink Motts Clamato Caesar drinks. And I'm telling you, although I've never thought I'd enjoy something in which the main ingrediant was the juice of a clam (... tha f&ck?), at 5:00 or so, one of these yummy little diddies--chilled to perfection, mind you--just goes down like love. And she even brought a couple a celery sticks for dipping. What's better than this? Hmm?

A big thank ya goes out to Fingers for sharing the love.

Channeling Julie Andrews

Fo' my readers, who won't have a post for some four days, "these are a few of my favorite things!":

Kelly Rowland and Eve, "Like This":



A Favorite Natalie Dee:



...and last but not least...

MONKEY LANDER

Enjoy, and I'll see you on Wednesday!!!

So You Think You Can Dance

It's still my favorite ROUTINE.

And he's still a sexy beast. Oo la la Wade.

Vacation Countdown

25 th of July.
24 cold Moosehead beer.
23 years I've known Fingers.
22 dollars plus $100 for a campsite.
21 tiny potatoes to cook with oil in foil on the grill.
20 marshmallows in a bag, perfect for toasting.
19 tacky items decorating my tent, bought at Dollerama for $1.
18 years-old when I moved in with FS.
17 emails sent to confirm plans.
16 somethings... I can't think of a #16.
15 times I've checked my packing list to make sure I've got it all.
14 years-old when Poomobile and I shared a desk in Religion.
13 different types of snacks.
12 hours I'll need to work tomorrow so I can leave early Friday...
11 new songs I downloaded onto my iPod.
10 books I'm trying to choose between to bring with me.
9 years since we were all in high school together.
8 D batteries to power up my lantern and air mattress pump.
7 o'clock, our estimated time of arrival.
6 ty percent chance of rain on Saturday...
5 days days away from "my room".
4 hour drive to Bon Echo.
3 girls in a Jeep singing along to some sweet beats.
2 days leave without pay.
1 super, duper fun, girly fantastic weekend.

So 'cited!

Damn the illusion of movement!

*blink blink*

*mouth hanging open*

*looks around*



Um... Yea.

*cough*

Well, um...

*awkward pause*

*ahem*

Well, many thanks to, um, Little Fingers (who may or may not have been high on bumwados--I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'...) when she found this... this... um...

*shifty eyes*

... this "something," and sent it to me.

And remember, no smokin', and no flash photography. My head is now a giant egg!

Must... Go...

Can't talk.

Reading.

So.

Good.

Will be offline avoiding spoilers. So call me, if you need to.

Can't believe I've wasted this much time typing.

Back to the book.

p.s. FS, don't you think Jen (or the Jen-sa member, as she prefers to be called) from Big Brother reminds you of a certain person we lived with who may or may not have been looks obsessed, whiny, and somewhat of a liar?

Freebie Five Addition

Let's talk about Harry Goldenblatt.

Uh huh. Yes. Yes. I agree. Excellent point.

*dabs imaginary pencil to tongue and jots fake notes*

We're unanimous then? All agreed say "Aye".

Montion passed. Harry Goldenblatt has been added to the Freebie Five.

Let's Go Down to the Disco, non?

Stamp, stamp to the left,
Left leg kick, kick,
Arm up,
Stab, stab to the left,
Stamp, stamp to the right,
Right leg kick, kick,
Arm up,
Stab, stab to the right,
Quick twirl round with both hands raised to Thor
Raise your (pretend) drinking horn to the left,
Drinking horn to the right,
Horn to the sky,
All over body shake
Huddly duddly,
And fall to knees with a triumphant shout of “HORRRRNNNNN!!!!”

How does the song go?

"... And when you're up, you're up,
And when you're down, you're down,
And when you're only half way up,
You're neither up, nor down."

Such is life, n'est pas?

You know what really grinds my gears?

When you go shopping, and you buy something--say, like a cute little pink jacket with tiny buttons up the front, and a sweet little tea collar, and a matching tank with little sparkles around the neckline--and the salesperson takes your debit card, and runs it through the machine, and politely punches in the $67 or whatever amount it is you paid for your cute new outfit, and prints your receipt and folds it neatly and places it into a wee envelope, and then literally bunches your cute little outfit into a rough pile and STUFFS it ferociously into the corner of the bag. Sometimes I think they do it on purpose... Like I can hear them snarling and going all Bilbo Baggins on my clothes, cackling, all MUAHAHAHAHA on my new, bunched up, scrunched up outfit.

This really grinds my gears.

Big Plans

So I'm making plans.

For many years, talking about the future was like some sort of taboo. I just didn't do it. Ridiculously, I feared jinxing what I now know would never have worked. Lesson learned, hindsight 20/20, and all that jazz. I've moved on to the bigger and the much better and I know my life is taking me where I was meant to be.

And I'm excited.

First. I love where I work, and ideally something will come of it. I'm actually hoping for permanency, which is weird. I know I don't seem like the kind of girl who likes change--what with my pressing need to nest wherever I go, and my overwhelming preference to preserve tradition--but the Human Sea Cucumber rubbed off on me. There is some sort of appeal in not knowing what will come, or being tied to one place. With nothing holding me down, I have options. And I can still comfortably use the phrase "When I grow up I want to..."

Banking on this (a permanent job and thus a career), my first plan involves a condo. The minute a permanent job is on the table, I will buy a home. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Beef have rubbed off on me, the reality that their cosy gingerbread dream came to fruition. I too would like a place of my own. I want to paint it the colors I love. I want to put my paintings and pictures on the walls. I want to fill it with my stuff.

The second is something completely different from the first, and perhaps a little easier to believe (easier for me to believe, maybe not so easy for you, Dear Reader). In January, at the end of the contract, I want to take another GAP trip. And I already have it picked out.

I will go to Morocco. Starting in Casablanca, ending in Marrakesh. Fourteen days, January 5th to January 18th. And I think I will most likely be doing it on my own, the idea of which is scarier to me than a $200,000 mortgage. But I'm really thinking on this. Drastically different than plan number one, but equally as exciting, and equally as far from where I thought I would be some 12 months ago.

So... What do you think?

I can't believe it...

I forgot to post last night. What's wrong with me? It must be all the country music getting to me. Those catchy tunes running through my head and the infernal toe taping that coincides... It's tiring me out!

In other news, I have a new Harry Potter theory:

My forever idea was that Harry would live (obvi, pfft) and he would become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and the series would continue in a few years with a new group of kids, and Harry as their teacher. He would play a minimal role. But JK would get to leave her options open. Tra la.

*ahem*

Now, however, upon re-reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I'm worrying that...

*wait for it...*

... Harry's scar is the last Horcrux, and insofacto, Harry must die for Voldermort He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named to die.

What say you?

Confession:

I think I like country music. Don't judge me...

And Other Such Things...

Padre bought a GPS system. And it gives me the creep-a-zoids.

Maybe it's the weirdo British, male voice-over telling me "after 400 meters turn left". Or maybe it's the fact that somewhere, somehow, somebody will always know where I am... I mean, do we really know who's at the other end of that of that satellite? For all I know, the province of Manitoba could be collecting data on where I buy my gas so they can destroy me and Yaris. I know! Totally likely, right? Pfft. It's hard to believe it hasn't happened yet.

...

Now that I've gone all conspiracy theory on you, lets get to the real reason I don't like GPS systems: while driving home from TCBY in Westdale after dinner last night, Padre drove right past the four streets that lead up to the house. When I asked him "why didn't we turn?" he answered... "because I'm waiting for the machine to tell me to."

...

Fo. S'rious.

In other news, at TCBY I ordered a milk shake, and the girl forgot the shake. Literally... into cup place frozen yogurt, malt, chocolate sauce... insert straw and sip. What tha? Where's the mixin? Hmm? I can't drink a solid. I pity the foo'.

I'm sitting on my couch bawling my eyes out.

Because of the movie...




(wait for it)



... Gladiator.



... tha f&ck? I'm either seriously PMS-ing, or I need therapy.

His Nibs

I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I've been a bad Library Lady, leaving you without a new post. But it's time I got down and dirty and followed up on the long weekend (again, sorry for the time delay).


So, July 1st was spent at BSB's cottage ala cottage country. Tres bon, etc. The weather was poo, but that just meant there was extra time for jigsaw puzzles (for which two were completed), eating (for which cheesies were consumed en masse and in stale form), and my new favorite past time, drinking Jenga. I read. I sat in a hammock. I made short but sweet dips into the water, followed by long and mediocre-ly hot sauna sessions ("ooooh, so the water is supposed to go on the rocks...")

But what I'd really like to focus on is... His Nibs. Because I had literally forgotten about His Nibs until Wednesday afternoon, when while sitting on the reference desk he suddenly popped into my head and I began laughing laughing laughing. Hilarosity!

The story, you ask? Whilst enjoying the boat dock in our nightly 15 minute break in the clouds, Poomobile had a nervy spaz after finding the skeleton to a cicada bug clinging to the fencing. For those of you unfamiliar with the anatomy of a cicada, they basically moult their skin, leaving behind a sick looking cicada shell...

Being a silly Library Lady, I took it upon myself to rescue the cicada skin, and to then position him in funny locations on my shirt and in my hair... You know, to scare people and what not. Vair vair funny. I highly recommend it.

But then Poo and I took a fondness to the little dude, after all the photos and the silliness and merriment and what not. Clearly, we needed a name. Whilst enjoying a thrilling game of cribbage (who doesn't love cribbage?) we came up with... His Nibs! .And so His Nibs came to be our gaming mascot in the evil euchre battle we played later on, and in the Scrabble, and in the puzzling, etc. etc. And Now that I'm telling this story, I'm thinking the drinking Jenga had something to do with the comedy of His Nibs. I'm also wondering what happened to the little gaffer... And how I can go about getting a t-shirt with His Nibs' picture on it...

Library Goodness

Happiness is picking up your library holds.

It's like getting mail--the thrill of going to the mailbox (or in this case the holds shelf) not knowing what you'll find, and being pleasantly surprised that one or two things were meant just for you. I love picking up my holds. They're always sitting there, waiting for me, wrapped in their happy packages and elastics, silently hoping that you're there for them.

Tonight I did the habitual trot down to the mail room, ran my finger along the spines of the books and CDs, and found my name amongst the L's (for Library Lady). And holy Toledo, three things!

1. The Dixie Chicks CD, Home, because I'm harboring a not-so-secret lub for them. Yaris and I have been rockin' to "Long Way Round," and we just can't get enough.
2. The book "The Last Summer (of You and Me)" by Ann Brashares (the Travelling Pants lady). Started it at dinner, and I'm tellin' ya, it's up there... It's rivaling some of my personal favs. It's a simple story. But there's defs something about a beach town and complex relationships that suck me in every... single... time. Don't even get me started on the goodness that is Summer Sisters. You name me one person (just one) who started that book and couldn't finish it. So simple, yet soooo good. Top five on my list, and that's fo sho.
3. And last but not least, a movie I haven't seen in ages. Seriously, a dog's age. Called Clarissa, with Sean Bean. It was on BBC forever and a day ago, back when a Saturday night meant watching Masterpiece Theatre and Mystery Television with me moms and pops on the green sectional couch (insert joke about 'what's changed?' har har har). But when Lord of the Rings came out (yes, I'm a geek), and Boromir first appeared, I remember thinking to myself, "I know him..." *looks into distance and has awkward flashback to some ridiculous movie that I lurved* So I pulled out the mad librarian skillz and found it in our catalogue (totally bizarre-o that we'd even have it...?) and voila. Now it is mine for the taking. For one week, at least.

I'm telling you, love is a many splendid thing, and tonight, it's a splenda-ing my library holds. And that is le fact.

Other reasons I don't like mushrooms:

They grow in poop. And they're absorbent. Which means to really enjoy them--in the gourmet sense--you're not supposed to wash them. Which means the poop is still on them when you begin to cook them, which means you're cooking in poop.

If you don't believe me, just ask BSB.

"27, and no prospects..."

Do you give much thought to the eighteenth century?

That is to say, if you were going to live in another time period, have you ever wondered what time period that would be?

For me, I'm pretty sure it would be the eighteenth century, doin' it up King George styles. Woo to the hoo. But none of this lice, poo thrown out the window, dirty, nasty stuff. Nope. I'm strictly talkin' Jane Austen styles--ribbons in the hair, pretty dresses, balls (the dancing with partners kind), turns about the room, the drying of flowers in 'the parlor', and "the improvement of one's mind through extensive reading."

I'm pretty sure I was born for this. Yaris and I just stumbled into the uterus a wee bit late. Well, maybe just me *blush*.

Sometimes, though, just sometimes, when I'm reading Austen or watching Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility for the umpteenth time, there's a part of me... A tiny part, that gets so wrapped up in it all... In the beautiful writing, and the (albeit) completely ridiculous story line, that I become somewhat sad I'm not a part of it all.

That's silly, right?

I know it. But, le sigh... It is le fact.

Ho hom. On a related matter... Remember the Lust conversation? Well, against my better judgement, as Mr. Darcy would say, this Keira scene with the gonna-kiss-ya-not-gonna-kiss-ya-staring-at-the-mouth-business is creepin' up on Girly with the Pearl Ear Bobble:

Goth-tastic

It's amazing how UGLY you can make yourself look when you're really trying, non?


Bhahahaha!