Do be doo dooooo

I love loud music. Seriously. Lurve it. Especially when I'm in Yaris, and we're bootin' it along to or from work... I just pump it. 'Till my sweet wee seats are vibrating with the noise. And the windows go kinda blurry with the bass. I drive better with loud music.

And there's certain songs that I 'specially love to drive to. None of this "oompta oompta" shat. It used to be Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion," but I'm over that. Right now it's "Poets" and "Fireworks" by the Hip:

If there's a goal that everyone remembers it was back in ol' 72
We all squeezed the stick and we all pulled the trigger
And all I remember was sitting beside you
You said you didn't give a fuck about hockey
And I never saw someone say that before
You held my hand and we walked home the long way
You were loosening my grip on Bobby Orr...

"What Goes Around Comes Around" is another good one. If I pump it right off the start, it'll take me to the Brant exit. Proviso the timing is right, and no one's being a highway asshole. And like I said, I drive better with loud music.

Confession time: sometimes I even car dance.

*ahem*

But enough about me. What's your pick for driving? And no lurking on this one. If you read it, post it... Dooo it...

American version: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Canadian version: What happens in Winnipeg... let me say it again. What happens in Winnipeg?

Holy pajamas... Just say it already!

Gawd...

Two posts in one day?

Crazy, I know. But this cat makes me laugh. A lot. Seriously. So much so, I felt the need to share it with the group.

Although generally speaking moustaches annoy me (see item #6 on the list), kitty's moustache is redonk. The "yeowy yeowy yeow" noise kitty makes at the end of the video is redonk. Kitty's fluffitude is redonk. Owner-man's "BLAH" noise made in response to poor kitty's spaz is redonk. And kitty's pouting is redonk. So very clearly hiding from owner-man behind that window ledge, all "get away from me, I haaaaate ch'ou". Le sigh. So funny...

Generally speaking, you should always appreciate Pants.

Because, see, Pants are very reliable, and very comfortable. So comfy, you often take them for granted and think, "Oh, Pants. Yes, I know them, and I have some of them. But they are way at the back of the closet."

You should reach for them more often, instead of the ones that are right there on your legs, because you always have those ones on, but those Pants in the back... they are special. Ver special.

So then you do, and they fit nice. And they make you feel pretty and good. And you wonder why you keep them in the back of your closet.

I love my Pants. They are the bestest and the cutest and the ones I will always have and love. She (oops), I mean they are my favoritest. I hope she (damn) I mean they know that...

So far I've:

1. Made coffee with no pants on.
2. Watched TV and eaten green grapes with no pants on.
3. Danced around the second and third floor to "Girlfriend" (again, with no pants on).

Having the house to yourself is f&ckin' aces. I'm never putting pants on again...

There. You've had your warning. If you're planning on stopping by sometime this week, don't be startled by my pantless-ness.

Have you ever noticed the "Aldershot Cold Storage" place along the highway? If you're going towards Burlington, it's on the right hand side.

I'm pretty sure it's full of bodies.

It totally looks like something out of a horror movie. Totally and completely. Full. Of. Bodies.

"Don't let the name throw you Jimmy. It's not really a floor, it's more of a steel grating that allows material to sluice through so it can be collected and exported."

Listen, when this story breaks, you remember who reported it first.

*ahem*

This one goes out to all y'all who either:

1. Speed along at morning rush hour in the 403 passing lane past the Highway 6 cut-off, knowing that you're going to cause all traffic trying to merge to slow and/or come to a complete stop, to which you react by swerving quickly into the middle lane, resulting in my slamming on of the breaks, and subsequent cursing, shouting of obscenities, etc.
2. Speed along at evening rush hour in the 403 slow lane up to the Main Street East exit which you know splits into an overpass (and yet you do it anyway), to which you react by swerving quickly into the middle lane, resulting in my slamming on of the breaks, and subsequent cursing, shouting of obscenities, etc.

I'm estimating you've shaved about 4 years off my life, and 4 hours onto my commute. I'm shaking my fist at your right now!

p.s. Jack and his "... but I'll come back for you." Le double sigh! I'm telling you, dude. Subtle is sexy. And this coming from the girl who usually pulls for Sawyer...

p.p.s. I've said it once, I'll say it again: Bitch... please. I backed up and started getting my own sandwich months ago. Sr'sly? WHAT'S WRONG WITH GIRLS?!

Sometimes people say things to me and I think, "Wow. Did you really just say that out loud? I wonder if you meant to just think that in your head, and not actually say it to my face...?" 'Cause sometimes... Wow... Sometimes that sh*t is just mean.

Also, I have a picture on my desk taken while lying on a beach chair in Cuba, and all you can see are my really tanned feet and the really blue green ocean. Fantasy locale, right now.

And finally, I try so hard to be a good girl and eat even the brown parts of my bananas, but sometimes it's just so hard.

I'm trying to think of something witty to say...

*reaches for bag of cheddar Crispy Minis*

Hmm...

*chew chew chew*

Mmm...

*licks lips*

*slurps 5 Alive*

Nope... Nothing comin' to me.

*crunch chew chew*

I guess we've discovered why I have such a ghetto booty...

Trade In

It's Friday and I'm feeling crazy...

Library School was dull. Le sigh. So we tried to mix it up a bit (such naughty librarians, non?) As part of this, Hurrah and Sleeves organized the Seven Deadly Sins parties.

There was the greed party, where we gambled (I think... I might have been drunk...). The gluttony party, which involved a halloween pot-luck, and a riDONKULOUS amount of mini chocolate bars. The wrath party, where we had great plans of burning our notes and text books and cursing the evil Velociraptor. But then we chickened out and ended up on Whyte drinking Grass with lemon and eating Fish and Chips. I think... Again, I might have been drunk...

But the Lust party. Now that was memorable. The deal was we all had to bring a clip from a movie of what we considered to be the most lustful on-camera scene of all time. And no telling who's was who's. Strict policy.

So there were cute clips from "Love Actually", and the standby Angelina in "Original Sin". And of course, the infamous "Y tu mamá también"--ver ver sexy, if you haven't seen it.

Mine... Well, I'm willing to share. I'm an admited romantic. And lust to me isn't "necessarily" *ahem* about who's stradling who. Ho hum. My clip was from Jane Austen's "Mansfield Park". I won't even try to explain it to you, because the scene will get seriously lost in translation, and yes, I know you're all giggling and thinking I'm a huge dork. S'kay. I know. I'm alright with it. You can go ahead and laugh... But I'm telling you: subtle is sexy. And there were people in the room that night who agreed with me.

But I'm trading in my scene. I've found a new one. If you haven't seen "Girl With a Pearl Earring", see it. And not just for Scar Jo, my new ho of choice. And not just for Colin, who I've been intimitaly connected with these ten years now.

See it for the subtle lust. See it for this scene. Now this... This is sexy. Are you with me, or are you with me? Excuse the subtitles. Damn YouTube.



Triple dog dare you to post your own...

40 Random Things That Annoy Me:

1. Excessive use of the windshield wipers.
2. Trying to spread cold butter.
3. Socks that slouch.
4. Forgetting where you put your glasses.
5. Searching for your misplaced glasses.
6. Moustaches. Full stop.
7. Room temperature milk.
8. Big crowds.
9. Slow, indecisive walkers.
10. Mascara that won't come off your eyelash-ers.
11. Wet band-aids.
12. Fake accents.
13. Fake.
14. Toothpaste that doesn't leave you with that "it stings" feeling. Like Aquafresh.
15. Inserts in a magazine that make it hard to flip the pages.
16. Trying to find someone in Winners.
17. That flappy sound you hear when only one car window is down.
18. Salt and Vinegar chips that aren't vinegar-y enough.
19. Hilary Duff's uni-tooth. Not her. Just her tooth.
20. Witnessing the pig trucks on highway 6.
21. Not knowing if your sleeping bag is cold or wet.
22. Swallowing your mint gum by accident.
23. Pictures hung too high on a wall.
24. Yawns that won't come out.
25. Cheaters. Unless it's Monopoly...
26. Dancing with the Stars.
27. F&ckin' Escalades.
28. Movies that could be good, but aren't.
29. Lost mail.
30. Hair elastics that snap prematurely.
31. Micromanagement.
32. The word "caramel", when it's pronounced "car-mul".
33. Rude people. When there's no reason to be rude. And yet they are anyway.
34. When there's nothing on the radio.
35. Sitting in a chair that's hot from another person's bum.
36. Finishing a really good book.
37. The mustard nubbin that forms on the top of the mustard bottle.
38. Forgetting to turn your alarm off on a Friday night.
39. The subsequent waking up too early on a Saturday.
40. Hang nails.

To quote Monty Python:

You're no fun anymore.



No one wins.

Poo.

Random List (because I'm like that, yo)

1) Why choose Coke or Rootbeer when you can choose Dr. Pepper--the perfect combination of the two. Superior in every way. Second only to chocolate milk. Although first on a hot day. Unless there's a Slurpee to be had. In which case, always. The Slurpee, that is. Oh god... Dr. Pepper Slurpees... Could such a thing be true?

2) I'm diggin' this apartment thing. Poomobile, BG, Free Samples, and Fingers came for an impromptu dinner last night. We rendezvous-ed. I made Indian (*pats self on back*). However, that being said, I will never own/rent another casa sans a dishwasher. So either someone needs to move in with me who enjoys doing dishes, or I need to be making more money.

3) Cat paws are funny things. It's like they have some sort of magnetic pull: they MUST be squeezed. 'Specially when they're just dangling there over the couch, all fat and fluffy... I can't help myself. It's like crack.

4) Spreadable vs. Squeezable honey. I'm partial to the squeezy kind. Discuss.

5) A woman I work with made a rather personal call from our office to her doctor yesterday, re: the "swelling on her butt that is causing [her] some discomfort". I'll tell you what's uncomfortable... Listening to that conversation! She started work at 1:30pm yesterday. So I'm wondering why this call couldn't have been placed from the privacy of her own home? Almost as bad as that time in Deadmonton when a male coworker called to book he and his brother "massages". Hmm... Yea. Sure. "Massage". Right (*rolls eyes*)

6) (*squeezes paws*)

7) Let's hear it for full on non-lesbo crushes on Scar Jo! Whoot! Whoot! I admit it. I lub her.

8) Read I Am The Messenger, by Markus Zusak. Just do it. Because I told you to. AND STOP YELLING AT ME! Oh wait... I'm the one yelling. Sorry...

9) I'm wearing my hair down today... Something different. Mixing it ups a bitters. I feel ver ver weird, though. Like a completely different person. Maybe that explains the yelling...?

10) That's it.

p.s. *poke*

Bog and S'later Facebook

Fingers and I went on a bit of a wild goose chase today. We scoured sketch-town Hammer-ville for the Bosnian grocer her work chum gave her the DL on. Although there's not much from the Bosnian/Serbian/Croatian menu I'd actively choose to remember--Calf's head? Bowels?--there are a few things I'd like to get my hands on again. The cheese BUREK we ate for breakfast, for example. Or that chocolate covered somethin' fabulous cookie that I'd probs commit murder for. Le sigh... It just wasn't meant to be.

But I'm giving you a little treat, dearest Readers. A video. Staring none other than your fav library lady: me. Not the Paris Hilton kind, though (thankfully). In this diddy, I'm trying a Clipsy for the first time. And for the record, that's a peanut butter flavored cheesie. It used to be said I'd never met a chip I didn't like. Now? You be the judge... Do you think I liked it? Hmmm?

p.s. I have officially deactivated my Facebook account. Just 'cause. It's not personal, it's business. Quite liberating, really. I won't be getting those emails saying you've tagged me or posted on my wall or just generally stalked me. So if you want to talk, use email. Or blog it. Or text it. Or whatevs. But for my Pants... *poke*

Karma

So I got a pair of pants taken in at the Stitch-It place in the mall, and I'm wearing them today. Nothing new. Ho hum. But what I failed to see (until I was helping some dude in the stacks find books on antique coins) is that they left a HUGE gap in the bum seam... So my 'tocks are totally hanging out for the general public. Nice. I now have a bazillion safety pins holding my pants together. Cheers, thanks a lot.

That's what I get for wearing my Tuesday underwears on Friday.

CCR--Bad Moon Rising

If you really listen, it sounds more like "bathroom on the right".

Remember that time we went to Cuba, and all I wanted was a drink-a-licious-somethin' in a coconut, and Hurrah and Fingers were all, "Oh, silly Library Lady... Doesn't she know that sort of thing only happens in movies that star Elvis or have something to do with beach blankets and bingos *scoff scoff*" and so we went into town and got followed around by a dog and I got a smiley face suntan on my tummy and when we got back to our hotel the entire beach was strewn with coconut drinks because they'd had a coconut drink party while we were away and it would have appeared that everyone in Cuba had fun with coconut drinks but me?

Hmm? Remember that?

p.s. That was a long sentence.

Woa Doggy!

My bestys need to breath. I wasn't writing about anyone. I'm not mad at anyone. There's no problem. There's no issue (and I certainly don't need to relax...) I'm workin' on it. I'm gearing down. I was just venting 'bout nothing in particular. "Mindless ramblings," as they were. I do that occasionally. Probs you need a glass of chocolate milk or something. Come over to my house... I'll make you some.

So to satisfy your funny bone, I'm bringing back what (I think) I do best:

When I'm at the gym I spend the majority of my time on the treadmill, as Poomobile can attest to. The gym is set up so that the treaders face the rest of the building, including the weights and the walkway you use to get to the change rooms. Needless to say, this lends itself awkwardly to lurkers ogling your wobbly bits while you're hoofin it. Ladies, this is where the supportive bra becomes an essential.

But, I digress... I'd like to comment on the 5:00-6:00pm gym crowd.

First, There's triangle man. He's built like a brick shit house. And he looks like this:


Note: this is not an accurate representation of Triangle Man. This is something I did really quickly using paintshop. But you can imagine.

Then there's thong girl. You know her. She's the one that wants everyone to know she's wearing a t-back, so she yanks it so far out of her pantaloons it's uncomfortable. Or at least, it's uncomfortable for me just looking at it, let alone being the one with my underwears wedged up my butters.

There's "The winker". He's cute.

And Mighty Mouse. She's about 4'10, seventy pounds dripping wet. But she wears about 300 pounds in weights strapped to her wrists and ankles and spends about 45 minutes going full force on the elliptical. She frightens me a bit. Kinda edgy like... I know she could totally take me. And for sures she's on that elliptical thinking about all the people on her list...

We can't forget the guy who wears women's t-shirts. He's pretty fit, actually. Kind of a Baldwin, to quote "Clueless". But he wears shirts that come to just above his navel. Not so Baldwin. And he spends quit a bit of time looking down at his own chest. Again... Not so Baldwin.

The children. Those are the boys and girls who come to the gym and hang around the machines, usually in matching clothes (some form of Lululemon and/or sideways hats). They never really do much. But they do a good job of pretending. I'm convinced *rolls eyes*.

And last but not least, there's creepy gym guy. He actually works at the club. I made the mistake of telling him during my initial physical assessment that I thought all public libraries should carry 'Playboy'. Now, whenever he sees me, he says "Librarian" and gives me the once over. Ew. Gross. Quit it. Blech. Blech x10.

And to quote Hurrah, that's it. And now I'm going to watch the Avril video again...

Mindless Ramblings, Take Two:

Bear with me, this could be a long one. Please feel free to quit reading anytime you like. In fact, maybe you shouldn't even start. I'm basically thinking outloud. Or should that be writing outloud...? Regardless...

I've never been very good at saying what I want to say--I can obsess over it in my mind for days, and it can be on the tip of my tongue just waiting to be word vomitted from my lip-balmed pucker, but I can very rarely bring it up. I bottle. I zip. I get quiet and I like to be alone. Such is the life of Library Lady. And there are few who get this about me.

Moreoften than not, I end up writing it down.

Bread and Jam became that vent, I guess, although I never really intended it to be my Sherpa... It just sort of happened! With the exception of a few peeps, I really have no idea who even reads this. Occasionally they come out of the woodwork as closet lurkers and I'm shocked to learn they're faithful followers. This is both encouraging and startling, I guess.

Before she was born, I had this big red book to occupy me. Something like a journal. I mean, they were my thoughts and my feelings on basically everything that happened in a five (six? seven?) year period. But they were never really my words, so I can't really claim them. When something happend--good or bad--I looked for a song or a poem or a movie line or a book quote to explain it. Maybe I always thought someone could phrase it better. I put all my trust in their their ability to say it right.

This brings up issue number two. I'm a Locke girl (and I think Free Samples is the only one who's gonna to get that reference). For those of you who didn't take PoliSci 2H03--Globalization and the State:

"In the state of nature humans mostly keep their promises and honor their obligations."

In other words, I'm completely nieve. I put my trust in people without question, assuming that for the most part, like me, they're looking out for those around them and not just themselves. That's not to say I'm a pushover. 'Cause I'm not. I know what I want. I know what I like. And I don't feel the need to justify it to anyone. That much I've learned. What you see is what you get with me. I guess that's all part of being nieve... Maybe I open myelf up too much? Blech. I don't know...

But I think I'm starting to realize it's all connected. That Hokey Pokey I talked about earlier. Two steps forward, one step back. I have to realize that just because someone's able to put it into words, doesn't mean they know what they're talking about. They could just be good with commas and semicolons. Just because they say they're going to, doesn't mean they actually will. They could just be a liar. But that's all part of it.

And so is learning that keeping it all in isn't going to make it go away. Just writing this has helped.

p.s. Who is this person? That's, like, three serious posts in a month... Too much thinking while running makes Library Lady a dull girl.