i want one more than anything else. so much so that it makes my heart hurt. fingers crossed that this christmas my dreams come true. dear santa and/or secret santa sibling, i know they are endangered but they are mega cute and i would be a good mama. i promise.

*if you are interested in data visualization, boris muller is also worth checking out.

I'm supposed to write an allegory for my conceptual poetry class but I'm drawing a major blank. So... I decided to do the allegory about me and my empty brain.

Around this time last year, I rediscovered Don Hertzfeldt's animations and decided that I wanted to learn how to animate.

I accidentally sketched a grumpy owl at work a couple weeks ago. So, I used him as the subject. The music is a mash-up of The Wave Pictures "I Love You Like a Mad Man." Good song.

Here's my first real animation, yo!

Please note: my skills of animation and music manipulation are in the fetal stages. (But I'm still excited that I created this.)

I was asleep... but I must have had a dream that woke me up. So... now I'm awake. I'm obsessed with flickr at the moment and I was thinking of who I should add as contacts. I don't remember how, but one day I stumbled across the artwork of stella im hultberg on flickr. She is amazing. In fact, my ipod is covered in one of her pieces. Her art is inspiring, I think. Often, if I find myself at a loss for ideas for a new poem, I will look at her water colours. I can usually come up with something then. If you click on her name, you should be linked to one of her flickr accounts. To get to the new one click here.

It's amazing how sunshine can make me happy. I'm sure there have been some scientific studies or whatever type of studies that give a straight forward reason for this... but it still amazes me. Summer is the most wonderful season.

It might be due to the fact that I've left it until the last minute, or maybe to the fact that I really know little about poetry, but I'm having a hard time. If given free range, I can write fairly decent poetry. Unfortunately, when faced with the task of writing an Old English alliterative verse, with use of a caesura and with four stressed syllables in every line.... I start to draw blanks. It only needs to be twelve lines... but I've been stuck on the first four lines for the past hour. Poetry is friggin' hard.

What the hell happened to April showers?

I don't remember any rhymes about April snowfalls. I thought winter was over. I know I'd complain if it were raining all the time. Rain makes my hair frizz out. It makes everything muddy. It makes worms crawl onto the sidewalk so it's like walking through a field of non-life threatening land mines of gross squishy-ness.

Still, I love using umbrellas. I love coming up with nasty things to yell at people if they splash me as they are driving by. I love Singing in the Rain... the movie. It's classic. I just wish I could make myself swing around light posts like that.

At the moment, mostly I'd just like to have a little rain because this weather is making me frosty. It makes me think nasty thoughts.

I was thinking to myself earlier about whether or not I'll ever get married and have kids. My beautiful oldest sister is pregnant with number three. So, it just got me thinking if I would ever have any of my own. I know that I'd like to. Not any time soon that's for sure. Still, I was trying to picture it. I couldn't. In my head, I see only two scenarios.

One: the only guy I ever love and want to have children with won't want me

Two: the man I marry dies within the first year of marriage

When the weather doesn't quite meet up to my standards I get like this. Unfortunately, that's most of the time. Maybe I should move somewhere... I don't know... not in Canada. I wonder if I'd be happier by the equator. Or in a plastic bubble. I need more sun. I need more warmth. But not too hot, because I faint.

Kind of a funny story, I was at a wedding with my second oldest sister during the summer. It was a nice breezy day. I was in a big church. No one was standing remotely close to me. The doors were wide open and air was circulating. I still managed to faint. I even sat with my head between my legs for about ten minutes. No such luck. As I tried to walk outside for air, I blacked out but didn't pass out. I just couldn't see. I managed to sit on a pew and then two people helped me outside where I finally collapsed. Thank GOD the bride and groom didn't notice. Still, for the rest of the evening I had every single friend and family member come and ask me how I was doing or what was wrong. It's amazing how annoying it gets when you have no real answer other than... "I overheated." I'm such a dork.

What can you do?

For the past couple of days things have been going amazingly well. Two wonderful things in particular.

First, I was accepted to UofA. Very exciting. It turns out the program I completed almost a year ago at SAIT just wasn't what I had in mind. I knew that a good couple months in the program, but I wanted something that I could do for a couple years until I figured out what I REALLY wanted to do. I was always falling back on the idea of history or english. So, in the end that's what I've decided to do. It's a good thing too. I pretty much hate my job right now. I don't know if I could survive more than a year.

Hating your job is not a fun thing. It makes it a lot harder to wake-up in the mornings for one thing. It makes Mondays a lot harder too. There's nothing like that feeling of getting into work on Monday and about half hour in wishing that it were Friday. I've never had a problem with Mondays before. But now I do. Mondays are the worst days.

One of the main reasons I hate my job is because of this stupid, ignorant newfie that I work with.... actually,that I worked with. That's the other piece of wonderfulness... today he quit!!! And I know it was because of me which makes it all the sweeter. My manager called a meeting for production to announce that he had quit, and I honestly had to fight back from laughing. I was that happy.

It's understandable I suppose. To be honest, I hated the guy. I know that people always say 'hate is such a strong word.' But here's the thing, it was just strong enough to explain how I felt about him. He had an amazing talent for making me feel like trash for not knowing how to do something. No one makes me feel like that. I don't like it.

I had no previous experience going into my job. I had a diploma from SAIT for basically what I do, but 95% of what I know now I learnt on the job. I've had to learn a lot on my own. Three months in, just as I was getting comfortable, my coworker/superior quit. And I hardly knew anything at that point. I don't have anyone that I can run to and ask for help. Still, I'm not a fool though. I can gather enough information from people around me or figure things out on my own. But if a situation arises where I don't know how to do something I don't need to have it thrown in my face. Let's face it, we aren't all 40 year old men with 15-20 years experience. I haven't even been there a year. I can only learn through trial and error because who is there to correct me? Cut me some slack. And most people at work do. But this guy would not. Most days I would just roll my eyes and suck it up. I don't need to be this guys friend, I just need to work with him.

And the story comes to its climax...

Last week... for the last time (which I know now)... Todd (jerkoff's name) comes up and complains about the setup of some plates -- pretty well insinuates that I am an idiot. I couldn't take it anymore.

First off, we have these forms now where offset is supposed to fill out how they want something setup. I did my setup exactly as requested. To be fair, some important details weren't given to offset when they received the form. I have no issue with that. I would never think they were morons because they made a mistake. Even though it would have been inconvenient to me, I would have done my part again and never even flinched. It's my job. It's what I'm paid to do. Just ask me nicely. But when you act like it's my fault when it wasn't my fault... no way. I'm tired of people always refusing to accept responsibility for their errors and instead pinning it on my department. If we make mistakes, we admit to them. At least have the courtesy to do the same.

I was seconds away from marching downstairs and making a big scene but I calmed myself down. Instead, all I did was write a note that said

We do as requested on the form so if you want something done write it on the form or at least make a note that we need to come see you.

My little synopsis was much ruder than the actual version. I used more words and even though it said essentially the same thing, it was much less offensive. There was a big fuss downstairs about it though. I think my manager could sense that I was upset because I ended up being called to his office to talk about it. One thing I've learnt in the past months is not to pussyfoot around things. I'm not going to pretend that something is okay if it's not. I was straight up and said I've tried all I can do, but there's just no way to work with the guy. I try my best to just ignore him and go on with my work... but I was in a bad mood and I couldn't do it. He had caught me on a bad day. Normally I'd be the mature one. As far as I was concerned that day, he's twice my age, mature enough to get married and have kids, he can be the bigger person for once.

I was able to avoid him for close to a week. He never set foot upstairs, and he rarely answered the offset phone and I loved it. The other senior pressman (Brian) was away for most of the week following that fateful day so my manager didn't want to talk to Todd right after the incident (good thing by the sounds of it). Brian got back today, and so it seems that the talk took place... and Todd wasn't mature enough to make the changes he needed to make. So he quit.

So if you're out there Todd: Let's toast... to never seeing each other again... to you not finding a job in Calgary... to you slinking back to newfoundland where your marriage will inevitably fail... and then hopefully to your repenting your asshole ways and becoming a nicer person. Lay off the weed. Lay off the booze. You made my bloody day.

And Larry: Thanks for coming through bud. I'm sorry I ever doubted you

....... and scene

So after a long hiatus I've decided to start writing my blog again. Really there isn't much going on, but I plan on going back to school and I'm afraid that I've lost too many brain cells. I figure that I can slowly regain them by reading more and writing more. EVEN if I start off just reading storybooks or writing nonsense that no one will read. It's better than nothing. No topic to discuss today, just simply to say I'm coming back and that if I get anymore of those stupid comments on my blog that they "found it informative and used some of my information" I'm going to crack some skulls. Let's be serious, since when do I write anything of use?

So I don't have a purpose for this post other than to waste time as I wait for my load of laundry. Not much has happened these past few weeks of interest. I'm back in school. I must say I enjoy it way more this year. While last year only half of my courses were hands on, all but two are hands on this year. I'm learning a lot of computer stuff, which I enjoy, since I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to technology. Anyways, I'm getting bored.

Waddyado?

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.

My birthday is just days away and it looks like it's going to suck. I was going to celebrate it tomorrow with a select group of friends, but one by one they've all pretty much bailed on me. I was really looking forward to it too. So, tomorrow after work I went from having a full plate to having no plans...and then Sunday I have no plans...and the actual day of my birthday I also have nothing to do.

Everyone is so hard to get ahold of. And the ones you can get ahold of, don't want to come out if this person is coming, and of course that said person is always willing to come. So despite the fact that you've actually gotten in touch with two people, you can only have one because they effectively cancel each other out. And everyone always says, "Oh I really wish I could come but...". Always the qualifier. Always. Why? Why do I end up liking pretty much everyone I meet, but everyone else is so goddamn picky?

I'll do laundry tomorrow I guess. Maybe I'll check out the Sun and Salsa Festival on Sunday. And on my birthday I'll sleep in, open up the lovely presents that I've been saving from my family, and maybe treat myself to a little shopping spree. And I do mean little, I'm going to have to pay my tuition soon. Maye some earrings from Wanderlust... perhaps my favourite shop in all of Cowtown. Maybe I'll try to read a little more Hemingway. Or maybe I'll reread the latest Harry Potter. I read it too quickly the first time trying to avoid spoilers from my coworker. I was in the same room as her for five minutes the day after the book came out and she was able to reveal significant hints about two major plot points from the book. And believe me, they were the two most important elements of the book. Thank-you Cindy.

Moving on....

Go see the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Some people say it's "dark", but I've a secret to tell you.... they're morons. Have you ever seen a Disney film? Seriously, have you? Because if the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is dark, then every Disney movie ever made is dark. Just because Willy Wonka's character was given a little more depth than the previous musical version starring Gene Wilder. I mean, Gene Wilder's hair in the first one constitutes sheer darkness. The most severe cause of pubichead ever accounted. That's frightening. The Oompa Loompas are a tad annoying in the new film. But the songs are better. And apparently, God heard the prayers of millions of little children... Tim Burton did not attempt to put in the Cheer up Charlie song into the film. That would have been dark. Also, the new Charlie isn't hideous like in the old one. He's actually one of the most adorable kids I've seen in awhile. Especially with the flood pants. He breaks my heart he's so cute. He's positively eatable with his adorable-osity. And that's frowned upon in most societies. See the movie.

That makes me wonder. If they can find children like that for one movie, why can't they find them for all children's roles? Why the hell do kids like Haley Joel Osment, or the three runts from the Harry Potter films ever get cast? Why? Why? I mean, Freddie Highmore (Charlie)... Dakota Fanning...? These kids are amazing, and then Mr. I see dead people and "No talent and ugly" Radcliffe, "I'm cute but overannunciate everything" Watson and "Just plain annoying and did i mention i'm a redhead " Grint have more money than I'll probably ever have. And for what?!?!?!?!?!?!? Luck, cause it sure as hell isn't talent... hence my rant in the first place.

Moving on....

Actually that's everything.

And remember... candy is dandy... but liqour is quicker. Friggin' A.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind in never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Rainy Day

All it does is rain here!!!! For the fourth time, High River has evacuation warnings. Four times in maybe three weeks. High River really has nothing to do with me, but still.... it'll rain, and then there will be a couple days of intense heat. And then it will rain again. Why?!?

So the new job at the dry cleaning place is going pretty well. I've been there just over a week and already I'm working on my own --- which I like. It means that they trust me, and rightly so. Still, it's not the greatest job. It isn't too busy for the majority of my shift but then, in the manner of all bastard customers, they all come at once and bring about a gazillion clothes each. And THEN, I have to tag them all in before I leave. Hey you guys, I've a bloody idea, try coming more than a frickin' half an hour before close!!!! There wasn't too much to learn which kind of sucks. But at least it means that I don't have to think too much, which means I can read a lot or maybe start writing.

That's life here. I work. And then I come home and read. But I ran out of books, so I have to go to the library tomorrow. Stupidly, I took out the same book twice. In my defense, they did have different titles. In Canada, one of Will Ferguson's book is called Generica. However, in the States and the UK it is called Happiness TM. My friend Becky from school recommended Happiness TM. to me. Every time I went in it wasn't there though. Generica was. I took out Generica, and read it. I remember thinking that the book could have been called Happiness itself, and figured that perhaps Happiness TM. was about the same characters. I'm a goddamn genius. So I took out Happiness TM. and just got around to it yesterday, only to realize that I'd already read it. I was actually really disappointed. I didn't have anything to read today at work. Brutal. As usual though, I got through it unharmed.

One last bit of news, not all that thrilling but I feel that I should share it. I have a mosquito bite on the back of my ankle and it has made it swell. Now it is mildly painful to walk and stand. Crappy. Just reminds me of when I was younger and my limbs would swell up to twice the size when I was stung by the pesky little buggers.

Okay, one last thing. Someone should buy me tickets to the Foo Fighters concert here in August. I heard an acoustic version of one of their new songs on the radio and it was incredible. Now I really want to go to see them. My birthday is coming up.... Of course, I would settle for their two disc cd as well.

outie

I'm seriously t-oed with my landlord at the moment. It's a longish story but, hell, I have the time and you're probably trying to waste some. So here goes....

Some man who works for my landlord came to the door yesterday morning and asked me if I could mow the backyard. Naturally, I said yes. After all, I do realize it's my responsibility. Still in my defense I'd like to add that I am not used to doing yard work of any kind. If anything, I helped my mother in her garden. (And that I avoided like the plague because I hate all bugs. I'm a wimp regarding them.] In fact, I've never mowed a lawn in my life. It's not really something that comes up on my to do list. Which is exactly why I hadn't done it: it never occurred to me. In addition, I never go to the backyard, so I never see how tall the grass is growing.

I didn't mow the lawn yesterday. Despite it being my day off, I had had two interviews earlier in the day (one of which I actually got the job for, hurrah! -- though I have a sneaking suspicion that I was the only person to drop off a resume) and I was incredibly tired when I got home around 3:00. I took a nap. Well, I slept for close to five hours and when I woke up I didn't feel much better. So, I didn't mow the lawn.

Well, I woke up this morning and found a SECOND NOTICE in the mailbox. And I will mention, in all pettiness, that whoever wrote it had horrible penmanship.... and they should be ashamed. If anything though, at the time it just made me feel more guilty. I resolved then and there that I would mow the lawn before work, but after I attempted to drop off another resume. (Unfortunately that whole trek was a complete waste of time as the receptionist gave me the wrong office hours, unhurrah! -- also unhurrah, I found out later that the place doesn't allow their employees to have piercings expect for on the ears... because god knows that people with facial piercings are horrible people who eats young babies and children and sometimes sacrifice virgins and elderly people to their pagan god Trom Kor) I arrived back at home around 1:30 and with a begrudging sigh I went to change into something more appropriate -- if you know what I'm saying. I had no more than begun removing my belt when I heard a lawnmower start up in the backyard. "You have got to be kidding me." So I ran to the door, threw on some shoes and ran to the backyard where I near accosted my landlord trying to get his attention. "I was just changing my pants so that I could come out and mow the lawn," I said with my belt hanging open and limp from its hoops. "I'm so sorry [which I wasn't], but I was really busy yesterday [another lie, but a white one, no point in hurting his feelings]." Blah blah blah. Conversation over. I walk away mildly relieved that for another week at least I don't have mow the lawn.

Anyways, what I'm angry about mostly, is that he didn't even give me 24 hours. He was almost finished mowing the lawn by the time I got home. And THEN... he was going to charge me 40 bucks. But if you don't even give me the opportunity to do it...... urgh. What a joke!! I should at least have been given a couple of days.... and besides the guy who came around the first time said that I just needed to mow it before it rained again. Well, guess what? It hasn't rained yet. So , technically, I still have time old man.

So I haven't been up to much lately. The weather is getting nicer. In fact, it's gorgeous out at the moment. For some reason I've yet to come up with, I'm inside. I was suffering from cabin fever all weekend, and now, it's nice enough to go for a walk again and I've locked myself inside.

Still, there's nothing much to say.

So, adieu

My two days off have been less than exciting. I went for a walk yesterday with my older sister (aka house boss.. haha). I was trying to start taking photos so I could post them on my flickr site. However, it ended up getting really cold and Chick and I decided to head home. That night, I ended up reading over 300 pages of a Timothy Findley novel. It's a pretty decent novel, I recommend you read it - The Piano Man's Daughter. Today was pretty miserable. Took a two hour walk, but it was cold and raining. So those were my days off. Here's to something exciting happening.

So that's a picture of me and my older sister who I mentioned in the first post (I'm on the right with the wild grin). This picture was taken last Canada Day while my sister and I waited for the parade. I decided, as my other sister suggested in one of her comments, to "liven" up my post by adding photos - but this time not of a freaky Jack Nicholson.

I haven't posted for a little while because, oddly, I was actually busy. A couple of high school chums came up for the week and I've been working quite a bit. However, starting tomorrow, I have two days off in a row. I plan on, weather permitting, to borrow my elder sis's camera and take some photos.

To be honest not much has been happening despite my lack of free time. Apparently, lots of people have been thieving books from the bookstore I work at. If that interests you. Also, the other day as I was walking to make our nightly deposit I got to walk past some kid with his "weiner hanging all over the place" (I believe that's the Zoolander line) being dragged by the security guard through the mall. The next day, as I was making the deposit, the bank machine beside me randomly shot out 120 dollars!! But yah, that's as exciting as things have gotten.

Until next time....

Act I Scene I

From stage left - loud, violent banging as if on screen door. Young heroine sitting centre stage at laptop listening to the marvie local rock station. Looks around bewildered.

heroine: What was that?

Silence. Heroine shakes her head and continues what she was doing. Banging occurs again. This time louder, longer and more violent.

Heroine looks in the direction of the sound. Loud banging and door bell.

heroinethinking: Maybe it's my sister come back.

Heroine opens door a crack.

Enter crazydrunkman.

crazydrunkman: Hey is Jim here?

heroine: doy?

crazydrunkman: Ya, he used to live upstairs.

heroinethinking: What was the name of the guy upstairs again? [Aside to audience: it was Scott]

heroine: They moved out. At the beginning of the month.

crazydrunkman: Okay. Hey, do you guys have any crack or weed?

heroine: No, I'm afraid not.

Exit crazydrunkman

End of Act I Scene I 

My good friend Ashley and I ventured out of our homes yesterday and to the movie theatre. We saw Kicking and Screaming with Will Ferrell, Robert Duvall, some cute kids, and this guy Mike Ditka who I presume is a famous football coach (Yes, I know nothing about sports). As much as I love Will Ferrell, this was a children's movie. There were a couple of really good lines, very Ferrell-esque in quality. What is that haunting aroma? Still, it definitely wasn't worth the 11 dollars. Wait for it to come out on video.

I hadn't been to the theatre for at least a month. You see, I actually really hate going to the theatre and I abstain for as long as I can. Naturally, I always seem to forget why and end up going back for no good reason other than to waste time. I don't mind the whole theatre experience as long as it's to see a really good movie. Unfortunately, I haven't been to a really good movie in.... Well, I can't remember the last good movie I saw... So it has been that long. My typical experience at the cinema is embodied in last night's visit.

First off, I managed to choose a movie for kids... on a Friday. Just in case you don't catch my drift as you've forgotten what it was like to be young, the 'rents tend to be more lenient with curfews on the weekend. No matter what time you pick, the rugrats are there! Consequently, the theatre was packed with little chillens above the age where they're all unquestionably adorable. In fact, they were all the age that I hate. Little preteens everywhere. I certainly never dreamt it would come down to this, but I've reached the age where if I'm sharing a c-train car with a group of kids aged 11-17, I really question why god hates me so much. Honestly, why me?

I was completely surrounded by these annoying children whose brains haven't quite developed into anything worth mentioning. I'm not going to say that all of them are little dullards, but you have to admit that as a whole... I was probably like that when I was younger too, but I'm not anymore. Right, so I'm surrounded by these snot-nosed kids who I just know won't get the finer jokes of the movie. You know, they only laugh at the really obvious poopy jokes, or slapstick garbage.... or at their friend yelling obnoxious comments. This behaviour isn't distinctive to children. Adults do it too.... I hate them as well.

The one saving factor of this theatre experience was that there were no finer jokes in the movie. So, basically, there was no chance for me to laugh out loud by myself and feel like a dork. Except for during the previews (... Chris Rock in that new Adam Sandler film... roughly "I was so bad at sports when I was younger that they picked the white kids before they picked me." Now, that's funny.)

And that pretty much sums up why I hate the theatre: the theatre is either filled with little rats who don't get the good jokes and laugh at the obvious stuff, or by older dimwits who don't get the good jokes and laugh at the obvious stuff. I suggest that anyone of minor intelligence and more steer clear of the theatre unless they're going to see a very obscure film that the loser masses don't know exists.

So I generated this blog to waste some time. The idea was suggested by my older and wiser sister - I won't go much further into her at this time as I'm sure you'll hear more about her in the future. In fact, since I'm the creator of this blog, I can pretty much guarantee it. Moving on....

I thought for a long time (a good five minutes) on what the topic of my first blog post should be. After all, this is a pretty big event. The fate of this blog relies on whether I'm able to keep an audience. Let's forget for the moment that the audience will likely be my family and friends, cause if my family and friends won't even read it, who will? Right, so I decided to basically just talk about some cool words that I discovered while searching for a cool name for my blog.

First off, hoi polloi. What is that? I'm not going to go too far into it, but apparently it means 'the many' in some language I don't know. It's a term used for commoners. I thought it was fitting, as I'm part of the hoi polloi, no matter how much I'd like to deny it. Plus, it's fun to say.

There are a number of websites on 'cool' words. I browsed them and saw some words that I also think are cool. Like lugubrious. Fandango. Brouhaha. Glockenspiel (not actually cool, but fun to say nonetheless.... although, it brings back bad memories of band class and watching, I swear, an hour long movie of pure medieval glockenspiel music. Funny story, it actually wasn't a glockenspiel in the movie, but I could have sworn that's what the instrument was called. Though today I was proven wrong. But it doesn't matter as I'll always think of the glockenspiel and shudder). Vociferous. Plebeian. Maudlin. Louche. I could probably go on, but I'll spare you.

I'd like to think of myself as a writer although I haven't written anything in quite some time. I like words. I try to store them. You can probably expect those words to show up in future posts. So keep an eye for them. Or don't. How will I know the difference?