Before I get to the purpose of this post, I thought I'd mention my recent discovery of The Arcade Fire. Though I heard of them many many moons ago, I just downloaded some of their songs this afternoon.. and I enjoy them very much indeed! Check them out.....

I've changed the name of my blog simply because I can. I decided that my original name was lame, and didn't really suit what this blog has grown into. As you may notice from the new name, this blog has basically mutated into not only a time waster, but a spot for me to rant and rave incessantly about really innocuous and picayune (new word!) things. I also realized that I often quickly grow tired of things. So, instead of keeping a permanent title, I think I might end up changing it every couple weeks or so. Or, whenever I feel the urge. Kind of like when I had my fish. First it was Cleo (like in Pinocchio), then it was Wanda (like in A Fish Called Wanda), and for the last few weeks before it's totally brutal and unexpected death (and I sometimes suspect murder... it was a tough little goldfish) Mergatroyd (like in Miss Marple: A Murder is Announced).

She wasn't there....(spoken with english accent)

So one day I left for work early. Normally, I bring a novel along, but that day, for some reason or another, I didn't. I hadn't eaten and was going to stop at some like cafe type place to eat before taking a walk. I don't mind eating by myself. In fact, at those type of establishments I almost prefer it. Save the big restaurants for companionship. Still, I like to have something to occupy myself. After all, I don't want anyone to talk to me or anything as horrible as that (!). Right... so I went into this cool little used book store and decided that I'd buy myself a book or two to read. I ended up choosing two books by Jane Austen. Firstly, because I always enjoy the movies that are made based upon her novels. And secondly, because I've been meaning to read them for a long time. I picked up Sense and Sensibility and Emma. From all of the Jane Austen movies, those two were my favourite. I imagine I'll pick up the rest of them eventually. But let's wait a couple days for that.

I haven't quite finished Emma, but I finished Sense and Sensibility in a couple of days. I must admit I really enjoy her writing style. Of classic novels, Jane Austen actually has a writing style that isn't unbearable. Like I tried reading Ernest Hemingway a few weeks back, oh gawd... get ready for a rant. Now, he's supposed to be this terrific author and I found him terrifyingly bad. I mean he can write in full sentences, and his grammar is good, and the premises of his novels don't seem that bad -- but he lacks. I admit while I'm not a buff, history has always been my favourite subject. And of all the areas covered, the world wars were the most interesting and stimulating for me. Hemingway, being a war man himself, often wrote on those time periods, so the potential of my appreciating his novels were great. I really wanted to enjoy these novels. His style, though, had this brevity to it. In some authors I admire that. For him though, it left me feeling like he could only give this half-assed attempt at writing.

I also couldn't help hating his protagonists. Okay, so I've only read 1 and 1/4 books by Hemingway. But in that 1 and 1/4 books, I really hated the main characters. I read A Farewell to Arms and began For Whom the Bell Tolls. Or maybe it was the other way around, I'm not sure. Whatever, in either novel the main character seemed overly pompous, and one of those 'perfect' characters that are given little vices to make them seem not so perfect. So this isn't really a fault with his style... but his characterization, I guess.

Here comes the worst part. In the second novel I attempted, if I was correct before - that's For Whom the Bell Tolls, what annoyed me the most is how the love interest, Maria, came across as such a floozie. Okay, so there was love at first sight. I know this because the main character's voice kept on getting thick whenever she was around and Maria kept on blushing (That's love if I ever saw it, ha). But that night she comes traipsing out of the cave to make herself... um... useful to him. What a man!! I couldn't believe it. I've NEVER heard of this happening in reality before. Maybe I'm just horribly naive... but really! Come on!

--excerpt from For Whom the Bell Tolls
(*some artistic liberties may have been taken by blog administrator)

Maria looked around cautiously as she stepped outside of the cave. Dressed only her red lace negligee, she crept slowly to where she saw Mr. Robert Jordan, the rogue professor from America sleeping. Maria slipped soundlessly into his sleeping bag. Once inside, she tried to rouse him gently.


Robert Jordan's eyes fluttered open with sensational manliness.
"I love you!," Maria gasped. "Take me now, please... I can't wait a moment longer." Robert Jordan was startled, yet pleased. He had taken great notice of Maria during supper. Though he had suspected that she had felt much the same way he did, he had never imagined it to be so openly proclaimed, so quickly.. "Please," she whispered. "Let me give you the clap so that you may discharge pus and have painful or difficult urination. Anything... to be useful to you... my love, my master," Maria said in a sultry voice. She felt her heart beating, and her lips quivered as she looked lustfully upon Robert Jordan. There was no question in Robert Jordan's heart, as to how he should act. At once he drew her towards him and kissed her ruby lips passionately yet gently....


Can you believe what trash! Truly a novel worth being read by middle-aged women starved for sexual attention from their narcissistic husbands. In all seriousness though, I guess what I hated the most was that his female characters seemed so fabricated. These weren't real women. Maybe it was a matter of the times, and how women were viewed then. These women, despite their supposed strength, came across as weak to me. Maybe it's because I've never been in love before and therefore don't understand the motivations they might have had. Maybe it's because I live in a time where women are more equals to men. Or maybe I've just gained a more feminist approach to literature after gaining an appreciation for authors such as Margaret Atwood in Mrs. Den Ouden's english course. Perhaps even all the english teachers and professors across the world are idiots and Ernest Hemingway is just pure shite. Whatever the case, I couldn't relate to the characters. So be it.

I imagine I will finish that novel in the future. Maybe even another Hemingway book. I might even learn to appreciate him. For the moment though, I'll stick with my Jane Austen, my Margaret Atwood, my Carol Shields, my Doug Coupland and my Kurt Vonnegut. That is some fiction I can truly appreciate.

I like your sleeves, they're real big.

Ever since moving here, I've noticed that I am prone to occasional states of melancholy. Actually, they are pretty frequent. I have what we'll call "episodes" at least once a day. Usually they occur while I'm at work.

You see, I live this kind of luckless existence where every job that I am hired for is excessively boring. For my first couple jobs, the first month or two was bearable. Not to sound high on myself, but I am a fairly intelligent person. [I'm lacking in some areas,obviously (**author has flashes of grade five and writing mad minutes, oh gawd), but on a whole I pick things up quickly.] My problem with my first two jobs was that I was horribly shy. I'm still a little shy, but now it's mostly just me acknowledging my distaste and poor skills at making small talk with people I don't know or have any desire to know. Anyways, I needed those two months to become comfortable with my environment and my coworkers enough to really start getting comfortable with the tasks I was supposed to perform. That might sound good... shy girl is becoming comfortable. But then you have to realize that after this point the reality about my jobs begin to sink in. There was rarely any variance in my daily tasks. There was rarely any variance in my coworkers. In fact, after awhile I usually ended up working by myself. All the time. All Alone. All the goddamn time.

I've had six different jobs since I started working at fifteen, and at three of them I spent most of my time playing solitaire on a computer. Three(!) of six. 50% of all the jobs I've had have been SO SO slow that I could play solitaire endlessly. And I still suck at it!!! So what have I gained from this experience except for a very high tolerance to the amount of time I can spend losing solitaire games.

There must be something horribly wrong with me that the only people that will hire me are those hiring for jobs that require constantly being alone, or constantly being bored, or constantly doing menial tasks for the dregs of society. I'm sure all my employers, past, present and future, all think upon the sight of me, "hmmm, this girl looks like a bloody moron. Good thing that this job gives absolutely nothing to society. She can't screw anything too much. Nope. Okay, so sometimes young impressionable children come in here. But if we keep her locked up with all the urine scented trash novels, we should be safe."

So I've worked at a photo shop that no one brought film too; a library that no one but drunks and local eccentrics came into..and the occasional really attractive tree planter; a business aid-y place that no one made use of; Shoppers Drug Mart ; a book store selling only the most popular (and usually unworthy) of novels ("yes sir we do seem to have a couple copies of the da vinci code left.... in fact, we still have 500 copies... mmm-hmm. what do i think of the book?....uh, well i'm the one human being still alive on the planet who hasn't read it.... hmm...well i did read angels and demons.... uh... well it wasn't really my type of book. well if i had to describe his writing... i'd say it was similar to an action film... enough to keep you entertained but not really noteworthy.... mhmm? ya... it's probably horribly written and pretentious. well what did you expect his name is Dan?"); and lastly, a dry cleaning drop-site. And even though I was the one who dropped off resumes at these places, I'm not entirely to blame. I dropped off at many, many other places that probably would have been better. But apparently in my last life I committed some atrocity that made the gods very angry. (Hmm, I guess urinating on the gold statue thingy wasn't such a good idea after all.) Either that, or my god this time round is trying to tell me something.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for the work force. I've always been suspicious that that was the case. Maybe I really am just cut out for marrying rich. And that's no joke.

So there really was no purpose to this post, except that I noticed this morning at work that I was in a horrible mood. Truly awful. Oddly, almost as soon as I stepped out of the store I felt a hell of a lot better. Actually the purpose of this post is probably to keep me busy. My loser boyfriend is getting sick (scoff... friggin' baby). So, he isn't entertaining me this evening. I HATE him (joke). I LOVE capitals (no joke). If I was a better actor I'd try to pull the YOU DON'T LOVE ME bit. Unfortunately, while it would provide me with unlimited enjoyment, it would probably freak him out --it's only been a couple weeks. My pride won't allow me to outright make someone think I'm a loser. Especially if I can avoid it. After all, I think I'm already pushing the limit by teasing him about his being lovers with his best friend. Maybe he should be your girlfriend. Now, THAT'S funny.

And as a great man once said....Kkkenny's cccoming to kkkill me!

Hurrah!! I'm going home for a visit. I never thought the day would come, but I actually miss the john. Well, more accurately, I miss the people I left behind there. But still, I've been reminiscing lately about old haunts. Rather, old haunt. Boston Pizza. BPs. I always hated how other people called it that. Some time last week, to my disgust and surprise, I found myself calling it that.

I, for a reason unknown to me, don't like it when people use acronyms... or whatever they are called. For instance, Grande Prairie must not...under any circumstance... be called GP. Just as the Barenaked Ladies must never be called the BNL. There are, naturally, a few exceptions to the rule. Calling Saturday Night Live SNL is allowable, but barely. The United Nations is the UN. National Hockey League, NHL. CFL. NFL. etc. etc. However, Boston Pizza is about four syllables... is it really that hard to find the energy to say it?

Of course, then I think to myself. My own name is four syllables and every time I tell someone my name they inevitably will ask, "Is there anything shorter I can call you?" To which I reply, "Hey. Your mom just called. She says you're adopted and wanted to know if you could vacate your room as soon as possible. She needs a place to store her collectors dolls."

Right, so I've digressed a bit too far from the intended topic of this blog. I'm going home. I miss everyone. And I miss going to Boston Pizza. So, one of the things I'm going to do, is go there and have supper with all my girlfriends. I'm quite excited to go back, and I plan on taking many pictures, so expect them. And if I fail in that task (which, to be truthful, I likely will) scold me harshly.

And that's the way the cookie crumbles...

So, we've found a place to live for the next year. It's pretty awesome. An entire house for me, A and F. It'll be good. At least I hope it will be. The landlady has proven to less than likeable so far. Let's just say that she does things in a way that I would never dream of and most certainly do not approve of. Still, I don't imagine we'll have to see her too much over the next year. Here's to a good year.

I've been to quite a few movies over the past two weeks. First, I saw The Island. And I have to say, I love you Ewan McGregor,and Scarlett Johansson you are a major hottie, but you are both way better actors than this.... how could you choose to be in this film? To anyone who has seen it... since when does credit card fraud require an entire precinct of police officers armed with big ass guns?? Yes, that question requires TWO question marks. I mean, I won't say that it wasn't mildly enjoyable. I loved the major product placement. And there was some dialogue that was priceless... "we are the island" (visual: Ewan and Scarlett doing the nasty... eww... did I mention that he is old enough to plausibly be her father! That is SO wrong.) Still, on a whole, it was about as good as a Bruckheimer film (that's funny. Cause Bruckheimer, not only has a massive forehead, but is also famous for Armageddon and National Treasure. -- apparently, there is a National Treasure 2 coming out. Ya. I know. The true Armageddon is coming).

Next, I saw Wedding Crashers. It was pretty funny. Cameo by Will Ferrell was the best part though. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but then again, I wouldn't say don't see it. It's hilarious, but it doesn't need to be seen in the theatre. Unless you really need to see giant images of women, some clad only in their underwear, others brazenly baring their buxom bubbies (Alliteration Rules!!!!!!), falling backwards onto a bed. Still, that lasts a total of about
40 seconds. In my opinion, not worth ten bucks.

Yesterday, I saw Batman Begins. There are so many good actors in it: Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Cillian Murphy (who I've loved ever since 28 Days Later), Gary Oldman, Christian Bale, Liam Neeson, Tom Wilkinson (one of the freakiest man ever). And I guess, I can't really complain about Katie Holmes. She was pretty decent. It was an attractive looking film. And in that, I don't mean the actual scenery was pretty, but rather that it added a lot to the feel of the film. Very dark. Very well done.

Couple of things I don't understand though. I don't think this will wreck the movie for anyone, but just in case, don't read this next paragraph. When Batman's parents die, why is it so lame? Ok, I know I'm watching a movie based on a comic book, but when his father dies, it looks like he's going to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon, just because he can. And also, the Wayne mansion is made out of stone bricks. Why would a fire make it completely collapse? Or am I just majorly illusioned about the strength of a brick home? Also, what's up with the super nipply scene with Katie Holmes. Is that really necessary?

The best part of the film is when Christian Bale is Batman. He completely changes his voice, and it's super theatrical and ridiculous. I laughed out loud when I first saw it. Naturally, I'm probably the only person who found it funny. But seriously, it was classic. Just watch the way he moves his mouth. So exaggerated. So awesome. I can't stay away from the topic of Cillian Murphy. Not only do I find him attractive, in an odd sort of way, but he fully succeeded in creeping me out as Dr. Crane/Scarecrow. He's attractive and talented! Man, when he put that stupid potato sack over his head, I cringed every time. Not to mention those nasty CGI maggots. Barf.

Of course, the screenwriter couldn't avoid the occasional cliched line, i.e. "I've got to get me one of those". Still, as far as comic book based movies go, I laughed the least in this one. Haha, hey Rafferty, remember Spiderman 2? Overall, it's a good film. I'd go see it just to support Christian Bale, a wholly underrated actor.

Totally different topic

So the local rock station C-Jay 92.. it's pretty good. It plays music that I enjoy. Anyways, they'll have themed weekends... like one weekend they highlight the rolling stones or bands that have broken up blah blah.... but why do they choose things that just lets them play exactly the same music they play anyways? So, even though they're having this special "Rolling Stones" weekend, we hear this music everyday anyhow. What's the point?

Why should I change my name? He's the one who sucks.