Saturday, May 29, 2010

All Quiet On The Orient Express: A Book Review

I haven't had time to be reading books for a very, very long while, and this little 211 page book took me a fair amount of time to get through. To be honest, I can't decide if I like it, or hate it.

Here, I am obliged to say, "Spoiler Alert!"

On the back cover of All Quiet On The Orient Express, the only synopsis it gives us is:

"A man accidently spills a tin of green paint, and thereby condemns himself to death"

I was very intrigued by this, and so began reading.

The main character is a man whose name is never once mentioned in the whole book. He's also never phsically described, although you get the sense that he's maybe in his late 20's. None of the other characters are ever really given much description either. I always like this practice of not giving the characters a face. It let's the reader use their imagination in full force. These characters could be anybody.

The book opens with him staying in a country campground, just after all the tourists have packed up and left. He gets on friendly terms with the man who owns the campsite, Tommy Parker (who's referred to as Mr. Parker for the rest of the book), and his daughter, Gail. Through conversations with Mr. Parker, we learn that our main character is just stopping here for a bit before, he takes his motorcycle on a long sightseeing adventure across land to Turkey, the rest of the Middle East, and finally to India.
In his interactions with the people of this quiet little... town? I don't know what it is, really. There's a lake, and a lot of the houses seem to be around it. They never mention anything else other than the pub, and the grocery store, so it sounds like it's even smaller than a town. A Village? Anyway, the people are all friendly enough to our main character, but there is something... off, about the whole situation.
Mr. Parker ropes our main character into doing a job for him. He would like the gate to his land painted. So, our main character goes about painting, and then accidentally knocks the tin of paint over. I got very excited at this, hoping it meant the story would pick up now, but... nothing really happens. Somehow, everyone in town hears about it, and they all begin to warn our main character of "Tommy's temper", which sounds very ominous.
Things go dandy for awhile. He helps Mr. Parker out with some more jobs around the campsite, helps Gail with her homework, joins the Darts League down at the local pub, and then... he realizes he's been in one place for too long, and finally sets out on his big adventure.

But he only gets an hour down the road before his motorcycle breaks down, and he has to wait in the rain for someone to give him a lift. And who should pick him up but Mr. Parker?

Mr. Parker offers to give our main character a lift back to the campsite, and let's him use the garage to leave his bike in. He also let's our main character use the "bothy", which I'm assuming is a little cabin. Our main character unpacks, goes into town to buy some essentials, and settles down again.

At this point, I'm starting to feel pretty desperate. I can see what everyone is trying to do. They're trying to keep him there! Mr. Parker is constantly giving him new jobs, like the big job of repainting all the boats he has in his shed. Gail gets him to do her homework, then practice darts with her. Hodge's, the man who owns the grocery store, Tony, the man who owns the pub, and Deakins, the man who has the milk route, all let him run up tabs with them, and you can just feel those tabs getting steeper and steeper. But he's forgetting his adventure! I want to grab him and shake him and make him leave! But at the same time, I can't decide if I like or dislike this main character. He's very nice, but so nice that he's really a huge pushover. He gets talked into doing so many things. After the fence painting, he's asked to repair the jetty. Then paint the boats. Then Mr. Parker hires him out to cut would for other people. Then he wants him to make a mooring for the boats. And repair the shed.
Then, because he missed a very important game of darts at the pub, he is told to lie low for awhile so all the locals can cool off and forget about it. He becomes stuck at the campsite, doing whatever Mr. Parker tells him to do.

We learn more about Deakins as our main character interacts with him more. Deakins, who runs the milk route, says he needs to talk to Mr. Parker. He was apparently convinced to start driving an ice cream truck around in his spare time by Mr. Parker, to make some extra money. But he's had enough, and needs to have a word.
Finally, he gets a chance to speak with Mr. Parker, just as campsite owner and our main character are going out in a little boat to test out the new mooring that our main character made. Deakins hops on the boat with them, but before he can even begin to tell Mr. Parker what has been bothering him, the mooring falls out of the boat, and plummets straight to the bottom of the lake. Unfortunately for Deakins, the chain wraps around his leg and drags him down too, ultimately drowning him.

And no one seems to give a fuck.

Our main character is a little unsettled, but that's pretty much it. Eventually, all the townspeople hear about it as well, but again, no one really cares. It's more like a "Hey, you hear what happened to Deakins?" "Oh, yeah." kind of reaction. And suddenly, everyone gets this bright idea that our main character should take over Deakins milk route! "You liked Deakins, didn't you? It'd be a kind of favour to him, you know, taking over his job." And he just does it!

Honestly, I almost put the book down at this part, because our main character was really beginning to disgust me. I really don't like such wimpy people. But I had to see how it ended. I already had an idea of what was going to happen in the ending, but I wanted to see it through.

So he takes over the milk route, and gets further and further from his adventure. One day, he picks up a hitchhiker on this route, and this hitchhiker turns out the be the fellow how was working for Mr. Parker before, a fellow named Mark (but he likes to be called Marco because he's an annoying douchebag). Our main character drives him back to the campsite, and finds that he's just returned from a trip to India. Mr. Parker tells Marco that he can share the bothy with our main character, and Marco continues to be an annoying, lazy bitch. The only nice part of the story so far is when our main character finds a whole punch of beautifully coloured paint, in maroons and golds and blues, and begins restoring the old boats to their former glory, rather than using the plain old green paint that Mr. Parker seems to have an abundance of.

It's Christmas Eve, and our main character is in the pub, drinking with Bryan Webb. Bryan Webb is one of the nicer people in town, but he's a bit of an eccentric who wears a cardboard crown all the time. I keep picturing him as Jughead. Our main character discovers that Bryan was only wearing the crown for a bet he made with Mr. Parker, who bet he couldn't wear a crown like that for a whole year (dumbest bet ever). Then you also discover that Bryan made a bet with Mr. Parker that he couldn't get rid of that surplus of green paint he had stored away. A worried feeling settled in my stomach...

The next day, Bryan Webb sans crown, shows up at Mr. Parker's to see about their bet. Mr. Parker goes to show him that all that green paint has been used in his boats... only to find them gorgeously restored, gold trim and all, which was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He then throws a tremendous fit, finally living up to the warnings that the townspeople gave our main character. He starts hauling around the boats, trying to pick them up and throw them, and screaming about what Bryan is going to take for winning the bet. "Alright, Bryan! You've beaten me fair and square! So what are you going to take? Eh? How about my tractor? Or my welding gear? Come on, take your pick! ...Tell you what, you can take one of these bloody boats off my hands!" While Bryan replies "Tommy! Tommy... please, listen... I don't want a boat... really, I don't... look, there's something else I can take..."

And then Bryan Webb drives away in our main characters motorcycle, while Mr. Parker exclaims "That's settled nicely, hasn't it? You hardly ever used it anyway." And our main character glibly agrees, and the end.

And then I realized that they didn't mean he was condemned to death in the conventional sense, but condemned to death of the fucking soul. A slow, boring death of being stuck in the same place forever, being bossed around by people you don't even like.

I honestly have no respect for this character. He was a really nice guy by all accounts, but I dunno, I think he deserved this "death". He was too much of a pussy to do what he actually wanted, and now he's trapped in this backwards little shithole forever.
Still, at the same time, I kind of liked this book? I'm too tired to give any more of an in depth review on it. It's almost fucking 3 AM AGAIN, WHAT THE FUCK.

Malling and Saffron's

This one's going to be a little short, as I'm extremely tired.

So today was much better in comparison to yesterday, because I actually left the house today.

Well, I didn't leave until 6 o'clock, so I suppose that hardly counts. But I met up with Rum and we went to... well, where else do we always go? The mall!

I hadn't been shopping in a long time, and it felt good to just look around and buy things. We stopped in a few places first, but, as always, we ended up in Forever 21.
I picked up quite a few things, but only ended up buying two dresses, and a very cute necklace. Here's one of the dresses:

Admittedly, I didn't know the bow was suppose to go on the front. I think it looks cuter in the back. Also, mine's a little different. It has some crinoline underneath it, making it a little more poofier.
Ugh, now I kind of wish I hadn't bought the other dress. It's cute, just a plain white and blue dress, very light material. But I'm thinking that I might have gotten excited because it fit me and jumped the gun. Did I really need to buy it? Ah well, the return policy at Forever 21 only lets you return things for store credit, so maybe I'll just keep it.

Rum and I then hit Saffron's, and holy god, I am still full. I haven't been that stuffed in a long time. Saffron's is always good eats though, although I don't think I can go back for a while now, because I don't think I'll be able to eat for a long time after tonights pig out, lol.

Aaaand I got locked out for about 2 hours. Peter and Dad went to a movie, and I forgot my key at home. Plus, my right ear is so blocked up right now, I can barely hear anything out of it. It hurts a lot too. Doctor time :(

Ah well, I'll do a more in depth blog about... something, tomorrow. I'm actually reading a book at the moment, called All Quiet On The Orient Express. It's kind of intriguing, but a little infuriating. I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Peace it.

PS. If you at all enjoy the human practice of 'laughing', you should watch this and this, both brought to you by one of my favourite sketch comedy groups, Those Aren't Muskets!

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Left 4 Dead 2 Achievements Day: Dark Carnival

Today I was going to fix up my bike and ride it around for a bit. But a much more serious duty calls.

I've just realized that I almost no L4D2 achievements on my home xbox. I always play at Max's house, so they're all on my account there. This is unacceptable.

-cracks knuckles-

It's going to be a looong day.

To start, I'm playing Dark Carnival on Easy. Yes, yes, easy is for noobs, but I'm just in it for the achievements right now. Plus, I don't like playing anything harder than easy with just me and the Computers. I can't rely on them to help me out. I'm playing as Rochelle too, because I like playing the only girl character.

The possible achievements in this level are Midnight Rider, Head Honcho, Club Dead, Clownd, Fried Piper, Stache Whacker, Gong Show, and Guardin' Gnome.

I can also work towards Avatar Achievements, such as unlocking a Med Kit I can equip my avatar with once I complete all campaigns on any skill level, the Zombie Hand Shirt once I kill 10,000 Infected, and my favourite, the Depeche Mode shirt, which you can get after you rescue Gnome Chompski. I can't really see myself completing that one today, because as I said, the Computers are too stupid to rely upon when you're playing on your own, so I'll save it for another day.
For those of you that don't know , Gnome Chompski is a garden gnome you can win after defeating the shooting gallery in Dark Carnival (this is for the achievement, "Guardin' Gnome"). You have to carry him all through the game, and eventually bring him on to the helicopter with you. You cannot use any of your weapons while you are holding him. You must drop him if you want to do anything like use a gun or heal yourself.

So I started this level with a good old shotgun. Now that I'm actually at the amusement park, Whispering Oaks, I've found a guitar to use as a melee weapon, and my baby, the Combat Shotgun.



-sniff-
I-It's so beautiful.

This gun has like, the range of one of the sniper rifles, but the power of a shotgun. She is God's most precious gift to L4D2.

Okay, wait a minute. I am noticing some serious problems on this xbox here. For one thing, it's not alerting me when I've gotten achievements. So far, I've gotten two, Head Honcho and Armory of One. It didn't tell me I got Armory of One, but it's up there, and it says I have 203/200 of the necessary decaps I need to get Head Honcho, but it's not showing it as completed. Aw man, what the fuck. Why do I always end up with the shittiest, most defected equipment. It also keep saying "Game Profile Error" every time I take a zombies head off. Maybe I'll stop using the guitar now.

Well, let's keep playing, I suppose.

So wait, what if this isn't saving any of my kills?! NOOOO THAT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT PART! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!
Oh wait, nevermind, it is. Hahaha, nothing to freak out over afterall.

Okay, so I found an adrenaline shot a ways back, and I've been saving it so I can get either Gong Show or Stache Whacker. Which one should it be? I have Gong Show on my other account, so maybe I should get Stache Whacker?
For you noobs, Gong Show is an achievement you can get if you hit a... actually, I don't know what it's called. That carnival game where you hit the target with a big hammer, and then it measures how strong you are, and you win by hitting it so hard you make the bell at the top ring? Yeah, that thing. For this, you have to make sure you have a melee weapon with you, and then use your adrenaline shot. This makes you hit it so hard that the fucking bell on top goes flying off. It also, unfortunately, summons a horde.
Stache Whacker is the same theory, only it's a Whack-A-Mole game where you hit one of the amusement parks characters, Moustachio (who is himself a pistachio). Have a melee weapon, use the shot, and whack away. This does not summon a horde (to my knowledge).

Now I'm going to trade my baby for an M-16 Assault Rifle. Really, I just want more bullets right now so I can kill more zombies. The reload time is a lot shorter, since you can just shove an entire cartridge in, instead of loading each individual bullet.
Plus, I like the sound it makes when it kills things.

In the Tunnel of Love. Let's shoot us some zombies.

Christ, my most hated Special Infected is the fucking Jockey.



These stupid little bitches jump around so fucking much, it's hard to just aim and shoot at them, then they jump on you and ride you around like fucking show ponies. And that fucking laugh. Uuugh words cannot describe how much I hate them. In the original Left 4 Dead, my nemesis was the Boomer. Now it's the Jockey.

Ah, I'm just going to get the Gong Show achievement. It's right in front of me, and its all bright and flashing, so I just gotta do it. Here we go.

OH MAN, FUCK THIS. I did it, and it says I haven't. That's fucking bunk, man. Goddamnit.
Well, now I'm just extremely discouraged. Is there even a point in finishing? Will it record that?

Eh, I'm almost done, so may as well.
Now, I'm going to very busy in a minute with the whole fighting off an endless horde thing, so lemme get back to you. I've got an AK-47 and a crowbar to do my dirty work with.
Aaah holy fuck, just as I was getting to the final area for the big fight, I turned around and came face to face with this:



AAAAH FUCK! Fucking Boomers! The Female Boomer sounds different too, kind of like a dying pig.
Oh Jesus, I was truing to sneak around the Witch too, and she turned her head really quick and looked straight at me.


And then she attacked Coach, hahahaha.

Okay, time for srs bsns.

Aaand completed! Wow, that was spectacular. I used all the molotovs, gas cans, and fireworks I possibly could. No tank got within 20 feet of us, and I think I took maybe 15 damage tops. The helicopter showed and I got on that shit lickity split, followed quickly by everyone else. That was magical.
And my total kill count? 810. That is... that's beautiful, that's what that is. Eight hundred and fucking ten.

Okay then. That wraps up Dark Carnival. Not sure if I'm going to do anymore, actually. I'm feeling a little cooped up here, and also, starving. I do want to get that bike looked at, and possibly even a shower or something.
Tomorrow is a day off too. What am I going to do with myself?

Also, I love Nick.

Nick: Ugh! This swamp water is going to ruin my white suit!
Rochelle: (laughing) You mean the suit with zombie brains all over it?
Nick: Brains come out, swamp water doesn't. Don't ask me how I know this.

HAHAHA MAGICAL!

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Recipe Failures and Bean Salad

So I was going to blog about how amazing my lamb, apricot and almond dish turned out, but it was a fucking disaster. Nobody liked it.

The recipe made it sound so good though...

  • lamb loin chops
  • 2 onions
  • carrots
  • dried apricots
  • whole almonds
  • 1 tsp each of powdered ginger, cinnamon and cumin
  • 1/4 honey
  • 2 cups orange juice
Brown the lamb loin chops, and then combine all the ingredients in a casserole dish. Cover and braise for 3 hours at 250 degrees.

And it was no good. For one, I put too much orange juice and honey, and I should have put a half teaspoon of all the spices instead of a full one. Also, using lamb loin chops was a bad idea, because there wasn't enough meat on them. If I ever decide to try and make this again, I'm going to use a leg of lamb or something. Or just a big fucking piece of lamb meat, that would be good too.

On the bright side, I ended up making a delicious bean salad to accompany this atrocious failure meal. I got the original recipe from here, my absolute favourite recipe blog on the Internet, but I modified it a little bit.

Rachel and I walked Macey to the store, because we needed to get pretty much everything for this recipe. We had to go to Extra Foods though, the shittiest grocery store in the land. For one, they didn't have any canned kidney beans. For real. I mean, I could understand them not having the cannellini beans, but kidney beans? So we ended up getting some Unico bean medley, which had chickpeas, kidney, romano, pinto, and black eyed beans in it. We skipped the celery because Rachel HATES celery (I'm not too fond of it either), and didn't use apple cider vinegar because I didn't want to have to buy a bottle of something I wasn't going to use very often. Also, I didn't get the parsley because they only sold them in huge bundles, and I didn't want to waste it.

So I ended up using:

  • 3 cans of the bean medley
  • 1/2 a red onion, chopped fine
  • 1 tbsp of rosemary, chopped fine
  • 1/3 cup of sugar
  • 1/3 cup rice wine vinegar
  • 1/4 olive oil
  • 1 1/2 tsp salt
  • 1/4 tsp pepper
Whisk all sugar, vinegar, oil and salt and pepper together, then pour over the beans, onion and rosemary, thoroughly mixing all the ingredients together. The recipe says to chill for several hours, but I only had enough time to let mine chill for one, and it was just fine. Super, super delicious, and now a new favourite. I'm going to have to make this a few times in the summer. It seems like a summer meal, doesn't it?

Oooh, and Rachel finally told my dad about her boyfriend. He took it surprisingly well, actually. Threatened to sharpen his knife, get out his shotgun, etc, but it went over okay. He's going to meet the poor young boy soon. I don't know why I said "young" or "boy" there, he's the same age as me.

Ah, it's 2 am now. I suppose I should attempt sleep now. But goddamnit, I'm just so hungry! What did I eat today... A little ice cream thing at 2 pm, to curb my hunger pangs while I was out at the store, a Wagon Wheel while I was cooking, a little bit of my disaster meal and delicious bean salad around 8:30, and then Nutella on a piece of bread 3 hours ago. Jesus, that's not very much when you think about it. I always eat like this too, sparse and spread out. I guess this is why I'm so hungry all the time.

Peace it.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Books and Brothers

I've decided to finally take inventory of all my books. I thought about this a couple nights ago, and put it off until now. I wanted to compile some kind of list of all the books I have. Since I've been bringing things over to my dad's, I have two boxes and two big bags full of books, and about an hour and a half ago, I set out writing them all down.

I took a bunch of lined paper, and marked them all A-Z, and began taking down authors names. The way I've done it is like so:

BROOKS, Max
  • World War Z
  • The Zombie Survival Guide
Last name, first name, and then all the books I have by them underneath.

I can't believe how long I was doing that for, actually. I don't know the exact time I started, but it was somewhere around 12, possibly 12:30ish. Shit, so almost 2 hours. I just put my iTunes on shuffle and repeat, and got down to business.

For a lot of the authors, I had to leave blank spots under their names, because I knew I had more of their books back at my mum's. It was actually really fun, in a completely nerdy way. I can't wait to get the rest of the books from my mum's so I can write them all down too.

In other (terrible) news, Peter has been suspended from school. Two boys brought some shrooms on the May Long Weekend band trip, and talked Peter into trying them. The fourth boy who was sharing a room with them left because he presumably didn't want to be around his friends while they were high, and the teachers found him and asked he wasn't in his room. He eventually caved and told them, and Peter got caught.
He said the only reason he did it was because he didn't want the other two to tease him for the rest of the trip. So, in attempt to shut them up, he did the drugs. Apparently he got really sick and puked too. I bet her did. That kid can't even smoke weed without freaking out.
I feel really, really bad for him. Kind of like I've failed him somehow. I didn't manage to pass any of my own ferocity on to him. See, if it had been me in the same situation, I would have said no to the drugs, and then told those motherfuckers to suck my dick if they called me a pussy. Peter, for all his assholeness, is really just a big softie.
So now he's suspended, and he feels like shit. He's been trying really hard to stop with all the drugs, and then these little bitches bring shit on their band trip. Like, honestly, children? You can't get through the weekend without shrooms, possibly the gayest drug of them all? You assholes are FIFTEEN, get over yourselves.
Clearly, I should find these cunts and kill them. And the rat.

Aaaaah Peter, don't worry. Things will turn out okay. He has to have a meeting with the principle soon, and mom and dad have to be present. For all her insanity, mum is generally pretty reliable. She won't let him be expelled.

Christ, and now it's 4 am. What's wrong with me? Why can't I sleep at normal hours? The weird thing is, I don't even feel tired at all. I feel like... normal. God, I gotta stop doing this.

Peace it.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Crazy People and Tattoos

A girl was stabbed to death at a party that was only a few blocks away from my dads house.

You always think things like this won't ever happen in your neighbourhood. These are the kinds of things that happen in bad cities, and you only ever hear about them on the news. I wonder if they caught the other girl who stabbed her. Christ, what makes you stab a teenager multiple times, when you yourself are only a teenager?

So today at work, a crazy man harassed me. He was a customer, and was just really rude and awful. I didn't pack his bags the right way, apparently, and felt the need to tell me this. He told me that he had worked at Safeway for 7 years packing groceries. Ooh, pretty intimidating stuff there, crazy guy. "Do you value your job, miss?" Uh, not really, fuckface. I work in a GROCERY STORE. I know that must be big shit for you, psycho, but it's nothing great to the rest of the sane world. He also made a point to tell me that he was a Canadian citizen, and had been born in Vancouver. He then asked "Where were YOU born?!" I've noticed this as a trend amongst crazies. In January, I heard a crazy man yelling at some guy and telling him that he was "a Canadian citizen, and that you should get back on the boat you came here on". I coolly responded "I was born in Toronto" to my crazy guy, to which he said nothing, perhaps choked that he had lost some reason to be racist. Whatta shame.
Anyway, the lady behind him was really nice, and when he was taking too long getting the fuck out of my store, she told him to hurry up because he was taking "a helluva long time" and he'd "already harassed and insulted this poor young lady enough." HA, take that, asshole! I was suuuper nice to her after, and when she said thanks for packing her bag, I said "No, thank you so much." It was nothing that I couldn't have handled, really, but it was still nice to have someone stand up for you.

So, to recap: crazy people being crazy, me not giving a flying fuck.

I'm going to start running soon, I think. I really need to lose some weight, and I've also heard that running is really good for toning your thighs and butt, which would be an awesome bonus. See, I'm planning on getting this tattoo, and I want my thighs to be nice and shapely, not made of pure fat like they are right now.
I'm actually pretty excited to start running. Max might run with me sometimes too. I normally try to not look sweaty and gross around him, but I thought it might be fun to have a running buddy. Hey, guess I need to buy some running shoes.

Before I stray too far from the top of tattoos, I'm thinking of getting my first one very soon, possibly next week. This is what I want:


It's a bass clef, and I want to get it just behind my right ear, like so. I think it'd be cool, and since bass clef has to do with music, it makes sense to have it near my ear. It's not going to be very big either, so I'm anticipating spending about $75 on it. Rachel was also talking about one day getting matching tattoos, which I think would be cool, but we need to decide on a design. She got her first tattoo the other day; the word 'love' in italics on her wrist. I haven't gotten a chance to see it yet, but she said it looks pretty cool. I paid for most of it, as a birthday present.

Alright, I better start thinking about going to bed soon. I've been staying up ridiculously late every night, and it's not very healthy. If I could be asleep before 3, that would be great. But anything's possible when you have an internet addiction as severe as mine.

Peace it.

Dreams

I don't have normal dreams.

I remember my sister once told me that her dreams are very much like her waking life. She goes to school, she goes on Facebook, etc. She once had a dream where all she did was tie her shoes.

My dreams are the opposite of ordinary. Even my nightmares are more horrific. In my most horrible one, there was a fighting contest. I was among the contestants, and we were told to win by whatever means. There were hundreds of opponents. Halfway through some ass-kicking, someone hit me in the back with a pole. I was stunned for only a second, and then I killed them, took their pole, and proceeded to kill everyone else who challenged me. It was like, hundreds of bodies all fighting and struggling to survive at once. Finally, I was among the 10 winners. We were told we had won, but the people we had been blindly killing had been our loved ones, and that we could search for their remains if we wanted. The "remains" were kept in a colossal construction dumpster. The other winners lept in and started digging through piles and piles of gore, and like... Jesus, I don't know. The pulpy remains of human beings. That's what it was. Just human pulp.

I freaked the fuck out, and kept walking backwards, until suddenly I was in the hallway of my house, and had backed into my parents room. They were laying against the wall, dead, their skin completely blue and their eyes wide. I started crying and talking to them, and they responded, but they were talking to me in my mind. Reassuring me. Suddenly, my mother raised a stiff arm and pointed at the door. "Close it. Hurry." she told me. I jumped up, and just as I was closing the door, I saw the corpse of a child come out of my room and start walking towards me. I was so terrified I woke up.

In another nightmare, I realized I was dreaming, and I just needed to wake myself up to escape. I had a pole (possibly the long handle of a vacuum) and I began beating myself in the head with it, screaming "WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP!" I beat it so hard that I actually ruptured my skull, and bashed my own head in. I collapsed and lay there, smiling victoriously, as I could feel my brain sliding out onto the floor and a draft tickled the inside of my now empty skull.

Yup.

My dreams are always fantastic, but constantly bordering on nightmare. Somewhere, zombies lurk. Strangers chase me, weird celebrations, storybook characters. I have been repeatedly shot in the head. My dream from last night... I wish I could remember it. Definitely one of my stranger ones. I wish I could remember it in more detail. There were small, dark rooms, and stairs. Crazy creatures, humanoid but... I don't know what they were. Fighting an enemy and portals. Long, dusty roads. A group of friends. A knife. Fuck, I wish I could remember more. I woke up a few times, but went right back into the same dream every time.

I am always falling in love in my dreams. No offense, Max, but it constantly happens. A mysterious photographer, a young man with unruly white hair and red markings on his face. Worse yet, I seem to have a thing for the bad guy. Recently, I dreamed of a bad faerie. He had kidnapped a small boy, and I met him, demanding the boy. He toyed with me, and I was slightly attracted to him. Finally, I was sick of playing games, and I wrote him a letter, saying that if I didn't get the little boy back, I would seriously fuck him up. I received a letter back that said:

"You're cute when you think nothing bad is going to happen to you."

I was scared, yet a thrill ran through me.

Tonight, I hope they come to me again. The dreams that are stranger than anyone else's I know. I want to feel that thrill, fear, unknowing. That wonder and delight. Dreams, please come again.

Peace it.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

I still feel so ridiculously young.
Somebody tell me what to do!

Friday, May 21, 2010

Salmon Pâté and Bruised Sternums

Another day.

Worked today, but it was one of those good work days, when all your favourite people are there, you have nice stuff to eat for break, and none of the customers demean you. One of those days.

At one point, a customer (one of our regulars) came in an asked if we had salmon pâté. We unfortunately do not, and he left, blah blah, whatever.
A couple hours later, I was concentrating on which sausages I wanted to buy for my breakfast tomorrow, when he was suddenly standing next to me and joked "So, have any salmon pâté now?" I laughed and said no, and he said "Well, I made some, so you guys can try it." And then he gave me homemade salmon pâté! Like, for free! I was like "Oh damn, thanks!" Shared it with Maria and James, and my god, it is delicious. I'm eating the remainder of it now, with the leftovers of my kamut baguette. Ooh, aren't I fancy. I kind of worried that maybe he poisoned the pâté... But then I reasoned that, if he'd killed us, he wouldn't be able to come back to Famous Foods, and since he comes in all the time I figured that would be a pretty big blow to him.

Maria told me I should marry him, because he can make stuff like that. Well, maybe. Max never makes me pâté :/

In other news, I believed I have bruised my sternum, that little plate of bone in the middle of you chest that joins both sides of your rib cage together. It is exceedingly painful when I move, breathe or laugh. I think it's from work. I've kind of had something like this before, and it's from putting too much pressure on that area. So, lifting really heavy things, or slicing really tough deli meats. Hey, guess what I did all day?

Max is going to be away for the next 10 days. First hes in DC, judging some huge event. And then he's going to San Juan. Lucky boy. Wish I could go to places like San Juan. So now I'm stuck here with no boy for the next week and a half. Boring.

I've realized that I'm starting to ramble, so maybe I should just stop writing now. It's 1:10 am. When am I going to get my sleeping schedule back in order.

Peace it.

PS. I really need to start writing about interesting things, and getting more people to read this.

Nothing Really

Ho hum, pig's bum.

Went back to mi madre's today, and cleaned up a lot of stuff. I tossed a lot of rubbishy things that I'd been holding on to for too long, and packed up all my clothes (except my dresses) and books. There are about 4 bags of folded clothes, and just as many of books and comics, plus one box of miscellaneous things. Now I just need to find space for all of it at my dad's... I already have to rather large boxes of books in my closet, and at least 2 dozen on the shelf. When I was talking to Max about the woes of having to bring all my stuff over, I realized that the only things I own are books and clothes. Hm.
Also, I haven't even read about 1/3 of the books I have. I just keep getting them from people, and finding them, so it's hard to keep up. I don't have time for reading anymore. It's all this laptop's fault. Everytime I want to read, I end up going on Facebook or Cracked or something.

Had some good catching up with Heather. It was over far too soon. She is one of two people I still talk to from my elementary days, the other being Tanis. I've been friends with her since we were 9 years old. She is the only person that I've known for that long that I still talk to. Everyone else that I went to kindergarten and such with have either drifted away, or become huge douchebags that I no longer wish to associate myself with.

Good lord, while cleaning out one of two huge boxes of mementos I have stored under my bed, I found my old Champlain Heights Elementary yearbook. Janey Mac, I was such a fag. When I bring all my things over to my dad's, I'll type up what I wrote as my little bio. I literally cringed when I read it. I was SUCH a dork. Also, I apparently wanted to be a scientist. Hmmm.

Nothing else newsworthy to report. The recipe book is coming along nicely, although I'm going to need to take one day to test them all out. And I'm working on a Birthday Wishlist. So far I would like:

  • a scanner
  • a little ironing board & iron
  • cooking accessories (spices, pots and pans, a mandolin, cookbooks, etc)
  • a USB
  • books
  • $$$


That's all for now. I don't really expect many presents though. I like giving presents more than I like getting them, really. Heather's birthday is coming up and I already know what I'm getting her. So does she, actually, because I already told her, lol.

Whelp. It's getting late, and I have a special issue of National Geographic to read. It's all about water, and it looks very interesting. Then I guess I have to go to bed or something like that. I'm feeling hungry still, because, at 10pm, I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day. Huh.

Peace it.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Familial Situations, Heather and Recipes

So, I was right. It's been three days since I was kicked out, and this morning I got a phone call from my mother "Me and Macey miss you. When are you coming home?" Pardon me? But apparently, she didn't want me to move out now. She was thinking more like August, or even July. Ohh really. How come you didn't tell me that at the time? And how come you already told dad to stop paying for me? And made plans behind my back with Rachel and Peter about how our room was going to be his, and Rachel would get his old one? Huh? How come? And while she may actually miss me, I think that she also misses my financial aid.

It makes me kind of sick inside to have to think that.

I do miss Macey though. I'm going back to be with Macey tomorrow, and grab some more stuff. And also, to hang out with Heather! Yaaay, I'm so excited. It's been a long time since we've really been able to hang out. We're going to walk our dogs, and sew, and have gossipy girl talk. Omg, yessss. That's the best kind of talk. Also, for anyone out there interested, this is her website, Glitter Pretty Costumes. In addition to dancewear, she also makes the most adorable bathing suits. If I had smaller tits, and nicer thighs, I would buy them.

I guess nothing else interesting is happening right now. Oooh, wait! My Uncle Mike is back for a bit from Brazil, and he gave me this really pretty notebook, which I have now turned into my recipe book. For the last little while, I've been writing down recipes in my journal. But I'd like to keep my journal as just a journal, so I'm taking time to transfer all the recipes into this new book. It looks very nice, and I'm doing my best to keep it neat and tidy.
Wait, that's not interesting.

Ah, I give up for tonight.
Peace it.

PS. Here is the song I've had stuck in my head for awhile:

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Kicked Out

Ahhhh life is a funny thing.

Take today. I started it like any other day. Woke up, got ready for worked. Bused there, arrived 10 minutes early like I always do, and worked away until my first break. I took out my phone an saw I had received a text message from my sister:

"Yo mom just said she wants to 'kick you out'. She wants you to live with dad... She's nuts."

I read this, and just felt tired; So... weary. So sick of this shit coming up. I phoned my dad to see if he had heard anything (which he hadn't) and phoned Rachel. She wasn't really sure what was going on. So I sat there on my break and stewed. I said I wasn't going to call her. I had work, and I wanted to focus on it and get through the day without being bothered. But I was so curious. What had I done to invoke her rage this time?

So, I called her.

And she was very pleasant at the beginning of the conversation. But I basically asked her "So what's the problem here? I heard you wanted to kick me out?" She asked where I'd heard that from, and I said that Rachel texted me. I immediately regretted ratting on Rachel, because I heard my mum say something harsh to her. Again, I asked what the problem was. She replied (sounding sickeningly innocent and cutesy) "Well, I just thought it would be fun if you went to live at dad's for awhile. Maybe you'll be clean there." Yes, ladies and gentleman. The entire reason she's doing this is because my room isn't clean. So I am 'kicked out'.

Let's begin.

Now, she came into my room after the wedding last night and made another comment about it. I joked around, she laughed, and said goodnight. Now, in the past, I'll admit I haven't been very tidy. And I was going to see to the room either today after I'd gotten home from work or tomorrow. But to kick someone out because they're fucking room is messy? First of, it's not just my room. Okay, my stuff does seem to occupy a large chunk of it, but it's not like Rachel can't vacuum or put away laundry. So why am I the only one getting trouble? Second, it's my room. Now, whenever I say this he shoots back "Yes, but it's my house." Okay. But it's my room. Are you ever in my room? Do you sleep there? No? Then shut the fuck up. I'm not 5 anymore, I can do whatever the fuck I like with my own space.

I don't know why I was the one that became her verbal punching bag, because I am the only one that does shit for her. Rachel and Peter (bless their little black hearts) are fucks. They walk in, eat all the food, and shout 'peace' as they're running out the door. I cook dinner, walk Macey, buy groceries, help her out with money, etc. Who was the only person who did anything for her on Mother's Day? Who was the only person who helped her make the wedding shower a success?

Oh shit, right. That was me.

She runs around spending money on fancy, frivolous things like the fine-dining experience she and her boyfriend went to ($100 per ticket; she paid for both), and I'm there in the end to help her buy half the groceries and chip in for wedding presents. She doesn't even work full-time for fuck's sake. And now that she told my dad he can stop giving her money for me (which he should have stopped doing 2 years ago) she's fucked. According to my sister, who I'm talking to on Facebook as I write this, my mother has already asked her if she could borrow some of her birthday money. Damn, that was fast. Also, she's reportedly "choked" that I didn't even speak to her while I was there to grab my stuff. But she did manage to say "Well, you're being awfully stubborn and quick about this, aren't you?", she quipped as she sat alone in the dark with her arms crossed like a petulant child.

Quick? Stubborn? Stubborn about what? Like, we didn't discuss anything. She didn't say "Alright, you can stay here if you want" and then I said "NO FUCKKKKK YYYYOUUUU". I did what she told me to do, with relatively no struggle. She wanted me out, so I left. And quick? Like, I was just going to go home after work and be like "Okay, everything is normal." Apparently, she wanted to discuss this with me once I got home. Funny thing is though, there are no 'discussions' with my mother. She points her finger and yells, I sit there pretending I'm somewhere else, she gets to feel like she did good, and I leave and continue to not give a flying fuck.

Whelp. It's pretty late now. Max and I are going to go see Iron Man 2 tomorrow. Then I have, believe it or not, a family dinner at my mom's house. Neato! An uncle of hers I've never met before is showing up: the infamous Uncle Donnie. Auntie Helen is going to be there, and I believe Heather and Jamie, as well as Jennifer and Ross. I'm bringing Max along so my mom can't corner me or whatever, I'll get free dinner, and then I'll run away to spend the night at Max's.

The only thing I'm sad about is poor Macey. I'm going to miss her.

Peace it.

Weddings

So the wedding was today. I was actually surprised at how low stress our preparationg were this morning. Woke up at 8:30 (actually, I slept in til 9:30 because I was so beat) and had a shower, and went to get my hair done. It's pretty much the same, just a trim. But the fucking hairdresser thought I was 16! |:< Wtfffffff. She was asking about my sister, because we've been in together sometimes, and I said she was good, and that she'd just turned 18 yesterday. And she was like "Oh, okay... Wait, what? Ohhh I thought you were like 16!" Fuck my liiiife.

So, hair did, and we kind of just went home and hung around until it was time to go. I bought some liquid brown eyeliner, which I actually like a lot. It's a lot bolder than a pencil, and makes your makeup instantly more dramatic. And hey, you pretty much don't need to reapply it, unlike pencil liner. Did my makeup, straightened my bangs and put on my dress (SO PRETTY). Aw shit, I just realized there are no pictures of me, like just me, that I could post. Or of the dress. Well, maybe I'll remedy that later.

Anyway, Peter in his kilt, Max (who looked fantastic) and I took a cab there, and Mum, Sean, Rachel and Maya drove. We ended up getting there waaaay before them, BUT, I left the envelope with Jenny and Ross' wedding present in it at home in my other purse. Fuck, fuck me. But it's alright, I'll give it to them on a later date.

It was a church ceremony, because Ross is Catholic, and man, faith makes me uncomfortable. And then my mum kept looking over at me when everyone was saying their 'amens' and whatever, like "Oh my god, you're being rude." Well, sorry I'm "the Big A", as Sean put it. And there was this part in the ceremony where the priest was reading something like "fear the Lord for he is..." and then everyone repeats the same thing. And it just sounded like some fucked up FEAR THE WRATH OF GOD mantra.
But it was a nice ceremony. I'll admit, I teared up a little bit, but only once, when Jenny walked in with her dad. And oh, I just realized that Jenny never threw her bouquet.

The reception was at Van Dusen gardens, and the was okay. There were a couple of speechs, a faggy poem written by Ross' mom and accompanied by a slideshow, and dancing. And seriously, this dress like, leaked glitter everywhere. I am personally covered in glitter: my hair, my arms, my chest, my face, my legs, and pretty much everything I touched/went near. My seat in the church, my seat at the reception, the dance floor, the bathroom stall I used, Maxs' hair/face/clothes, and everyone else I came into contact with. Like, I am serious; it was all over the dance floor.

And aaah, I wish I wasn't such a freak. I wanted to dance more and chill, but I got all stressed out. But Max coerced me into dancing more than a few times, and I ended up having a good time. They played Sandstorm vs Blow Your Mind (a short version, thank god) so I had to dance to that. A few other good songs, and only a couple slow ones. We danced to all of those. The last one was 8 Days A Week, and it was very sweet because Max was singing the words to me as we danced. Le sigh.

And you know what would be fun? If we could take dance lessons. Like, some kind of traditional ballroom dancing. Or like, swing dancing or something. I dunno, I've kind of always wanted, and it would be a fun thing to do together. Problem is that those kinds of things generally need $$$ to do. Ah well.

Aaaalrighty, I am way to tired to continue with this. There was some family drama, but I'm sure that'll come up later and I'll have a chance to talk about it another time.

Peace it.

Friday, May 14, 2010

The Future Soon, and Recipes

So, today I was thinking more and more about culinary school. I've just been cooking a lot recently, and it reminded me of how much I love it. But would I actually like a career?

Talking to Karina, she asked what I was doing about school. I said I had noooo idea at the moment, and she mentioned the VCC Culinary Arts Program. I have to say, it looks pretty good, and not ridiculously expensive. The tuition comes up to just under $5000, which is a savable amount. And the program actually sounds cool! I'm just looking at the courses now. Term 1 is boring beginner stuff, like Basic Kitchen Skills, Hot and Cold Breakfast Cooking, Sandwich Prep, Kitchen Management and Healthcare, etc. But then you get into the cool stuff, like Stock, Soup and Sauce Cooking, and in Term 2, Alcoholic Beverage Service and Appetizers and Hors d'oeuvres! Doesn't that sounds insanely exciting?!

Okay, better not get too excited. I always get really into a a career idea, before I actually know if that's what I want. It kind of worries me that this is so far from what I originally wanted to do (writing). But why couldn't I cook and write at the same time?

I'm also wondering about what other courses I'd have to take if I wanted to start my own business. See, if I do go into food, I'd really love to do catering. It seems like a much less low stress environment. Like, you sit down with the client, they tell you what they want, you make a menu, and cook it all beforehand, whereas in a restaurant, it's like "Cook this and this and this and this, RIGHT NOW."

It is exciting though, because this is something I could actually see myself doing. When I thought about teaching, it never quite felt right. I didn't get as excited about it. I thought it was just something I had to do.

Oh god, if I become a chef, I'm going to get so fat.

So today is my little sister's 18th birthday. It's so cute that my siblings are growing up. God, I remember when they were just little little. For her present, I am paying for the tattoo she's getting (at 5 pm today). It's very simple. It just the word 'love' in handwriting on her wrist. I think it's very cute. I'm kind of bummed that she beat me to the tattoo-punch though.

Mmm, speaking of punch, the wedding shower. AMAZING SUCCESS. Everything was delicious, from the drink to the dessert, and all the guests had a great time. As for the food, we had the spicy lamb meatballs, our signature shrimp quiche, smoked salmon canapes, deviled eggs and... actually, that's it. We nixed the bulgar nicoisse, just because it didn't really fit in with the finger food theme.
For drinks, I made sangria (another family signature), and punch. The punch was a mix of pomegranate juice, white grape and peach juice, and this amazing blood orange pop that I am in love with. It tastes a lot like Red Tangerine Fanta, but minus the bazillion cups of sugar.

And in case you're interested, here is the recipe for our delicious Sangria:

1 bottle red wine
1/8 cup brandy
1/4 orange juice
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup soda water

We actually ended up doubling this recipe for one jug, and I added a little more orange juice than was called for, because I like it tasting a little less winey. The punch was just as delicious though, so I had a lot of that.

And the Spicy Lamb Meatballs. I seriously cannot get enough of them. Okay, okay, I'll tell you the recipe:

1/2 lb ground lamd
1 egg
3 green onion, chopped
2 tbsp bread crumbs
1 tsp each of curry, cinnamon and corriander
2 tbsp each of pine nuts and currants
2 tbsp harissa sauce (can be substituted with hot sauce of your choice)

Then just fry 'em up in a pan of oil. I used grapeseed oil, because it has a very neutral flavour (don't have grapeseed oil? Try using canola oil instead), and a high heat tolerance. Now, I doubled this recipe, and it gave me about... man, I didn't count. 3 dozen meatballs, maybe? There were a lot. I didn't make them very big either, just bite sized. They didn't end up as spicy as I would have liked, but still amazing. having the currants in them was lovely. You'd get these little bursts of sweetness in your mouth.And then, you can't have the meatballs without the very delicious Mint Yogurt sauce:

1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 tbsp lime juice
1 tsp sugar
fresh mint leaves, chopped

Again, doubled this recipe because there were a lot of people. But it was really, really good. Man, wish I had some more.

Oh dear, am I going to have to start a blog just for cooking? That'll make 4 blogs that I have, although the other two are pretty dormant now. Shame.

Anyway, that is enough chatter for now. I keep staying up way too late, and then sleeping in forever.

Peace it. I hope you try the recipes!

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Old Lady Stories

I did not grow up with old people around me, since my grandparents died when I was very young. So now I find that I am incredibly awkward around the elderly. Like, what do we talk about? I'm from Generation Internet, they had WWII. Every time I'm forced to talk to one of them, I get all anxious and try to get out of it as quickly as possible. When I see a super old person hobbling down the street, all I can think is "zombies".

In my neighbourhood, there is an old folks home, and... old people apartments? I don't know what you call them. They're apartments for those old people that can still take care of themselves. Anyways, I was waiting for my bus to work on Monday, when an old lady asked me if I knew when the bus was showing up. I did, and I told her it would be here in 8 minutes. She commented on how chilly it was, and I agreed. She said it was so windy that she had to wear a hat, because her hair was so thin it would just fly away. I said I had the opposite problem (I have very thick, curly hair) and she said "Oh, you're just like my granddaughter. She spends a fortune on hair products, when she's in college and should be saving for school! Are you in school?" I said I wasn't because I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do.

And then she proceeded to tell me her entire life story.

But you know what? I didn't mind, because her life was totally cool. She was in nursing, but was disgusted with how they wanted them to cover up for the crooked doctors. "They wanted me to testify for a doctor at a trial, but I wouldn't lie, so I quit!" I was like Holy shit, this is awesome.
Then she became a fashion writer, and wrote about fashion, I guess. She worked for some brilliant guy who was head of Mensa, but then quit working for him because he was an asshole who didn't know how to deal with people (honestly, I started zoning out a little bit here). Then she married some Norwegian architect who won the Governor Generals Award, and was a contributing writer for The Province, and wrote super controversial pieces.

And her name is Betty, like my own grandmother that I never met. She's about the same age as my grandma would have been too.

So yeah, just thought that was neat. Anyway, it is LATE now, and I need to get some beauty sleep for the wedding shower tomorrow. Just had to tell that story before I forgot.

Peace it.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Dreams and Busyness

Ever have those dreams that just go on and on forever? Like you're watching some insane movie instead of dreaming?

Last night was one of those cool ones. There were vampires vs, werewolves, me ranting in a mall with an audience, fast cars and mean dogs, and I can't remember what else.

Okay, so the vampires vs. werewolves part was very cool. There were insane fight scenes. There was one boy (a werewolf) telling me how his mother (also a werewolf) was killed by a vampire. And then I saw it. She was jumping out of a window, all the way across this thousand foot void, to another building. As she's in mid air, the vampire (who's looking out the window on the opposite building) picks up a huge chest of drawers and hurtles it at her. The momentum carries her all the way back to the bulding she jumped from, smashing a huge hole in the side and kills her. Her son, the narrator, is only like, 5 years old at the time, and is just sitting beside her huge, mangled wolf corpse as the authorities come to check everything out. It was fuuuucked, but so cool.

As for the mall, some guy tried to pick me up, and I shot him down (rather wittily, I might add). Then this chola tries to talk to me about how I was a bitch for turning him down. We were in front of one of those Orange Julius/Dairy Queen hyrbids, and then I gave this amazing (and hypocritical, I just realized) speech about how you should never judge people by their outward appearances, skin colour, etc. And like, I had the entire food court captivated. I don't even remember what the hell I was talking about, and dream me kept stuttering as she talked (oh, how realistic). It was actually a really cool speech, if only I could remember it. And I was like, acting everything out. It was pretty cool.

The webcomic business is going slooowly. I'm too busy to draw right now, although I have gotten the whole prologue sketched, and some of the first chapter. I know I'll pick it up again after this week.

May 11th - decorating and cooking for the wedding shower
May 12th - Wedding Shower
May 13th - Not quite sure actually, but I know there was something
May 14th - Rachels 18th birthday
May 15th - Wedding

And no work on all of those days :(

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Genetic Markers and Bridal Showers

Can't sleep.

I tried to go to sleep about 2 and a half hours ago, and that didn't work. I don't know how I'm so awake now. Well, I wasn't overly tired to start out with. Rachel came home with her friends, and then they all decided to pack into our room. This one girl, I don't know her name, but she is unattractive and loud. I can't imagine why Rachel is friends with her.

Woke up, watched food shows with my mum, then talked science and existentialism with Peter and his friend, who sounds exactly like him. Is that a thing? Do 15 year old boys just all sound the same?

Anyway, my mum was apparently talking to one of the lawyers she works for, and they're working on a case about some botched birth by a doctor or something, how the umbilical cord got wrapped around the kids throat and now he's retarded or something. Anyway, the lawyer had to talk to some top notch neuroscientist, and the neuroscientist said that apparently, since they've started mapping our DNA, they found these markers. Like, markers in our genetic sequence. Apparently, there are 'cancer markers' and certain things in life can switch these markers on, thus giving their bearer cancer. Like, Person A and Person B can both have cancer markers. But Person A never got cancer, while Person B did, and Person B only got cancer because something in his environment turned it on. Like, apparently things like, having a rough childhood, or people being mean to you for 2 years straight in high school. Now, obviously not everyone is going to get cancer after someone calls them a faggot or whatever, but that's the basic idea of it. And, this is going to be huge for people like the lawyer my mum works for.

Say there's a custody case. The father of the child is cold and unfeeling, but well-off, stable job, able to provide, etc. The mother is in less of a favourable position, but is warm and kind and loving. They're saying that with this knowledge of 'cancer markers' (and it's not only cancer, there are other kinds of markers too) the mothers lawyer can say "We can't send this child with his father because he is a horrible bastard." and the judge will say "Of course, you're right." This neuroscientist said that in 20 years time, this will be quite common knowledge. I love it. The future is going to be awesome.

Does that mean someone will finally make a kind of parenting handbook? I mean, there are a million out there already. My mother (and probably her mother before her) raised my siblings and I on this Dr. Gerber Baby Book. It was the baby book in our house. But I mean, maybe someone will finally make a standard issue "Guide to Babies" or something. It'll have this genetic marker stuff in it, and, shit, maybe they'll even start testing people before they have babies. I mean, I know that sounds like some kind of pyscho, over-controlling government thing, where they can control the population or whatever. But think about it. Think about all those fuck-ups you've seen, in real life and on TV, with children, and how you know that kids going to end up just as fucked up. Maybe they'll finally eradicate that shit.

Man, I got all excited about food today (again). A girl at work asked why I'm not going to culinary school. Honestly, I would LOVE to have the chance to learn more about cooking, but I don't feel like I have any interest in cooking in, say, a restaurant. I like cooking for my friends and family, and I like cooking for myself. And really, I don't think I could stand the high stress environment. I'm neurotic enough as it is.

But yeah. Jenny's wedding shower is on the 12th, and we're going to make SUCH delicious food. Here's what's on the menu:

  • spicy lamb meatballs, with mint yogurt sauce
  • our signature shrimp and broccoli mini-quiches
  • bulgar nicoisse
  • smoked salmon canapes, with dill cream cheese
Awesome. I wanted to make more, but my mum said that was enough. We're just going to get a cake from, like, Safeway, and have coffee and tea. Oh, and sangria! The only alcoholic drink I will consume.
It's going to be so fun. We have some games, we're going to decorate, we got Jenny some darling presents (hint: the theme of the party is 'lingerie'. My mums idea), and I bought an adorable dress at Urban Behaviour the other day that I'm going to wear.

Fack, I still need to buy a pair of shoes to go with my dress for the wedding. I bought this awesome vintage hat the other day from some retro store downtown, and an old faux pearl necklace that is too cute. The dress is champagne coloured, and the hat is sort of golden. So I need like-coloured shoes. But with size 11 feet, a seemingly simple task like this turns into a terrible shoe man-hunt. Not a lot of stores cater to us bigfoot gals.

Now it's bed time for real, and just in time too. I think I'm getting Carpal Tunnel in my arm from typing too much.

Listening to: Brand New Colony - The Postal Service

Peace it.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Hippies, Hippies Are Stupid, STFU Hippies, Etc

Point is, hippies are stupid.

I noticed one of my friends on Facebook has a photo album of demotivational posters. Always up for a larf, I browsed. When I came across this:



Clearly hilarious, amirite?

So I chortled to myself, and then looked at the comments. I was greeted with hippie drivel.

"thats not very funny :("
"its clever. and shocking. it rendered me speechless."
"holy shit. who could ever do something like that?"
"thats so cruel."

I replied (to 'who could ever do something like that?'): "People trying to make money to feed their families, I guess."

Yes, I will admit it. I am not against the clubbing of baby seals. Yes, they smash their soft little head open with clubs. Tough shit, baby seals. Maybe you should have become the dominant species instead of us, and then you could club our young instead. But you didn't.

Okay, baby seals are cute as hell. But get this: they are animals. And hey, we used to kill animals in this exact same way a couple thousand years ago. Now, I know everyone is a little sensitive to killing animals, but you guys are pussies. You don't seem to have an issue with eating dead animals bought from the store. Do you know how horribly they treat cows? And chickens, pigs, calfs, etc. The people clubbing these seals aren't waking up and saying "You know, I think I'm going to go kill some baby animals today." They're making money to feed themselves, and feed their families. And I don't know about you, but being able to pay bills and buy food is pretty fucking dandy.

Also, another question has been plaguing me. Would people even give a fuck if it was something less adorable? How about komodo dragons, even baby komodo dragons? What about alligators? Or fucking sharks? Would anyone care?

And Paul McCartney. Made a huge fuss about it, protesting it and everything, but really. What the fuuuck do you know, Paul? You have like, millions of dollars. You have whatever you want. These people have to do this for their livelihood. I'm pretty sure I would do anything if I was poor and had a family to look after.

Eh, I was going to write something about how terrible high school was, and how my mum is sad that I didn't enjoy it (also, a hilarious anecdote), but I am literally too sick and tired, so peace out.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Hobophobia

To start off with, here is the funniest thing I have ever read.

Hobophobia: The 5 Vagrants Who Ruined My Psyche

Towards the end, I was actually crying from laughing so hard. It felt awesome, I haven't laugh like that for awhile. But seriously. This article is one of the greatest things ever. Ian Fortey is now one of my top favourite Cracked columnists. He also made this, which is hilarious if you're up on your columnists.


(click for full view)

I too, have had my own share of mind scarring hobo-incidents. One time, on a band trip to San Fransisco, a group of friends, my mother (a chaperon), the kind-of-cute assisstant band teacher and myself were enjoying some pizza in a local park, watching a wedding take place at the church across the road, when we were accosted by a very drunk, very disgusting homeless man. He made some remarks about how nice it was to see families enjoying a nice day in the park (???), and honestly I don't remember what else. He was standing far too close to me and my anxiety levels were off the chart. Anyway, he at one point proposed that he sing us a song. We all tried to politely decline, but then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool, also known as the assisstant band teacher, told him, Sure, why the fuck not. Yes, he ceased being kind-of-cute to me.

So we were treated to a badly butchered rendition of some Santana song or other, and honestly, to this very day, I cannot hear Santana without thinking of this homeless man from San Fransisco. At one point, he ripped his jacket open, and I was sure that he was going to pull out a knife and stab me to death. My friend Amanda was much amused, but all I could think about was that this would be the most embarrassing death ever.

Anyway, he finished his song, awkwardly bowed, and then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool gave him 10 fucking cents. Now, I'm not a homeless person, but even I understand that that's a fucking slap in the face. So, Homeless Santana (loudly) protested, yelling that this was "chump change" and that he could make "a hundred bucks" and that he "sings at weddings". Maybe hobo dumpster weddings for washed up prostitutes and Rat Kings, but that's still a wedding. So DtWT starts to yell back (yes, really). Santana challenges him to a duel, shouting "You wanna fight, bitch? You wanna go?" And honestly, DtWT is raring to go, when suddenly some football playing frat boy shouts, "Hey Santana, catch!" and tosses him the ol' pigskin. Santana gracefully extends his arm and catches it, and then runs off to join the game. Frat Boy smiles at me, and I weakly smile back, and then continue on the plagued with hobophobia for the rest of my life. The whole way home from San Fransisco, I thought Santana was following us. I had a dream that he'd found me. Yes, I am that crazy.

So, there's my story for the day. I'm doing okay. Feeling better (mentally) but I'm actually terribly ill right now. It's awful. I hate sleeping when I'm this sick. I mean, I want to sleep, because my body is tired, but the actual act of sleeping when you're sick is hell. For one thing, my sinuses are so stuffed up, that having my head in any position but upright is incredibly uncomfortable. Then you get too hot, and your head hurts, and you have to breath through your mouth thus causing you to be thirsty, AND no matter which direction you put your head, your nose will run. Ew.

Also, drugs have ceased to take effect on me. Today I have had 2 Dayquil pills, 2 tylenols and 1 T3. All of them failed to take effect. Actually, hold that thought, the T3 might be what is making me so woozy. Or that might just be my good old fashioned cold.

Every time I say "old fashioned" I think of the Old Fashioned Ham from the deli at work.

PS. Still sketching for my webcomic. I'm having fun with it, but am starting to worry about the "web" part. I seriously don't know shit about that computer type nonsense.
What else... My cousins wedding is coming up and we're hosting to Bridal Shower at my house on the 12th, so I need to start thinking of a menu. Bought an ADORABLE dress for it, aaaaand the illness made me forget what else I was going to say.

Peace it.