This morning, since I'm feeling a bit crap with the battle of a head cold (thank you, co-workers), I figured I'd call in sick and putter around my house in between sleeping and trying to breathe out of my nose. It's unfortunate that my body decided to stop fighting this particular infestation (this has been going around my office for a couple of months) now that the weather is improving and I have to actually get serious and start packing and cleaning for real. I much prefer complaining about it.
I finally approached the piles of fabric and sorted them into storage containers. I underestimated my collection, especially how much vinyl I have. But so much pretty fabric to play with when I get a sewing table and more floor space. I've promised myself not to start on anything until I move, which is hysterical because I can't really think of new projects anyway. My brain is full of other useless proclamations and plans. Except for maybe the screen printing project. That might be do-able.
Since the fabric took three containers rather than the two I anticipated, I had just one container for CDs. I have to get another one because all the loose CDs don't fit in. I have no idea how I'm going to monitor the collection in the new place because I'd need a lot of shelving for these suckers. I don't like this system at all.
I did see a couple of albums that I'd like to borrow songs from for the next Right Musical Alliance trade. See, my friend is super rad and came up with the idea to start a regular music trade with her friends so everyone can maybe hear stuff they haven't heard before. She knows people with good record collections. And it also means members can get stuff in the post, which is worth the effort all on its own. I just wish I could make mixed tapes instead of CDs; I love mixed tapes. Sadly, my CD player attached to my tape deck is busted and I don't think it can be fixed again (it's its 10 year anniversary in June).
As an aside, how do you put in a little empty sound space between songs that start and end exactly in the recorded time? Do you know what I mean? It's pissing me off. I like that dead air space.
While perusing the collection, I noticed that I buy (or bought) CDs in a particular order. I used to be a total label whore, buying almost anything on a label that put out stuff I liked, including all formats available. (For example, I have almost everything, including 7"s, from murderecords between 1995 and 1997, including one particular Sloan release in 5 formats: domestic CD, import CD, domestic LP, import LP on a new label that was going to fold, LP with bonus songs) While I don't do it so much now, I still would like to. I keep seeing one particular Astrud EP that I already have on two CDs (domestic and Japanese import) and a 10". Do I need another copy of the same record because it's on a different label? Probably not. I'm the perfect sort of person for record labels to advertise to because I look at ads and think that 6 of the 8 releases they're listing look worth buying. Compare a band to someone I like and I will invariably buy it. In short, I'm a sucker.
Speaking of suckers, those friends who kindly offered to help with the move will be crying in their pillows when I start calling in the favour. You know who you are.
Currently listening :
Mock Up, Scale Down
By The Super Friendz
Release date: 22 August, 1997
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
on the move
I've been trying to catch my landlord to give notice for the last week. I'm not sure if he's out of town or avoiding me or worse. This is freaking me out because I don't want there to be any way I have to pay for two apartments for a month. I know it will work out, but I've got a nervous constitution at the best of times. There's nothing that would indicate my landlord would suddenly get crazy, but you never know.
Today I went to the apartment building I'm supposed to move into to check out the new place. What a relief. It's a good size (relative to my awkward spider-infested one), decent layout and has a patio and garden area. It's unfortunate that I have a black thumb and kill plants without effort. (I suppose this is the point; plants require effort.) I'm glad I got to see it before the move. People have expressed disbelief that I would move in without seeing a place, but family friends own it and it's unlikely they would suddenly be slum landlords. I mean, I worked for them for 5 years. Is it possible they would become terrible all of a sudden?
I have so much stuff to sort through and get rid of. I HATE moving because it makes me look at stuff I don't necessarily want to get rid of but that I don't use. My sister drops comments about doing a clean sweep through the place. This is why I hate HGTV; it gives people ideas. It's hard to defend things that you want to keep when other people don't see the value in them. Case in point: my sister wanting me to recycle some of my DIY magazines. Ya, right. I didn't try to toss her ceramic love bears or the cougar painting when she moved.
Oh, totally unrelated, I photocopied something at work that had "white master" on a post-it note. For some reason this was disturbing.
Also at work, I catalogued some new children's books donated from Tonari no Gumi, the Japanese cultural organization in town. They were easily the most interesting books I've seen for ages. Ladies in Japan made them for a "friendship exchange" and are fabric books with removeable velcroed parts and moving stuff and are just so cool. Most of them were in Japanese, so it was good practice to read and figure out what the stories were about. One of my co-workers figured it would be a fun project to try to duplicate, at least in part. I agreed. Reminds me of the bag one of the ladies at my Japanese job made for me. She made felt faces of kids in the school (there were only 4; I lived in a tiny village when I was in Japan) and put one of me in the middle. The reason I love it so much is she embroidered my name like she pronounced it under the face: Kalen.
Currently listening :
Bring It Back
By Mates of State
Release date: 21 March, 2006
Today I went to the apartment building I'm supposed to move into to check out the new place. What a relief. It's a good size (relative to my awkward spider-infested one), decent layout and has a patio and garden area. It's unfortunate that I have a black thumb and kill plants without effort. (I suppose this is the point; plants require effort.) I'm glad I got to see it before the move. People have expressed disbelief that I would move in without seeing a place, but family friends own it and it's unlikely they would suddenly be slum landlords. I mean, I worked for them for 5 years. Is it possible they would become terrible all of a sudden?
I have so much stuff to sort through and get rid of. I HATE moving because it makes me look at stuff I don't necessarily want to get rid of but that I don't use. My sister drops comments about doing a clean sweep through the place. This is why I hate HGTV; it gives people ideas. It's hard to defend things that you want to keep when other people don't see the value in them. Case in point: my sister wanting me to recycle some of my DIY magazines. Ya, right. I didn't try to toss her ceramic love bears or the cougar painting when she moved.
Oh, totally unrelated, I photocopied something at work that had "white master" on a post-it note. For some reason this was disturbing.
Also at work, I catalogued some new children's books donated from Tonari no Gumi, the Japanese cultural organization in town. They were easily the most interesting books I've seen for ages. Ladies in Japan made them for a "friendship exchange" and are fabric books with removeable velcroed parts and moving stuff and are just so cool. Most of them were in Japanese, so it was good practice to read and figure out what the stories were about. One of my co-workers figured it would be a fun project to try to duplicate, at least in part. I agreed. Reminds me of the bag one of the ladies at my Japanese job made for me. She made felt faces of kids in the school (there were only 4; I lived in a tiny village when I was in Japan) and put one of me in the middle. The reason I love it so much is she embroidered my name like she pronounced it under the face: Kalen.
Currently listening :
Bring It Back
By Mates of State
Release date: 21 March, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
brush with indie rock fame
Holy crap, I'm feeling extra bitchy. Sorry in advance.
During my afternoon break, I went to Scratch to try to get tickets to a show on Thursday night. This worked poorly. It's part of New Music West, the most secretive festival ever. They refuse to advertise their shows and make their website almost impossible to figure out who is playing where. Apparently you have to buy tickets from the NMW office or hope there are some at the door. NMW is not an easy-to-negotiate festival, which is why it is unlikely I'll be going to more than this one show. This is not exciting news. It isn't even really news.
What is exciting (at least for some of you) is that, while looking for a couple of CDs, a guy from Much Music was filming these two people picking out records. I didn't really care that much because I was concerned with the tickets/CDs thing, and I don't get overly excited about bands unless I'm really obsessed with them, and I obviously am not obsessed with this one. The girl and guy had British accents, and I immediately didn't like the girl because she had chosen a Johnny Cash album as one of her favourites. When I hear people say they like Johnny Cash I have a hard time believing them because so many jumped on the bandwagon after "Walk The Line" came out. Yes, I realise this is a bitchy judgement on my part; I don't care. Anyway, she finished talking and then the guy started talking, saying something about liking beats and how "this one" (can't remember what he said... I really wasn't paying attention) really influenced his music. They finished their favourites lists and then did a little throw for the show it would appear on.
"We're from Ladytron and you're watching Going Coastal."
It was more amusing than exciting, especially when the guy (Reuben, I believe) waited for my stuff to be rung through and the girl (I suspect it was Helen, but what the hell do I know?) came by and said something snotty about how long it was taking. Whatever. Tickets to their show were $35 at the COMMODORE; you know how I feel about Commodore shows and paying a lot of money to see shows there. Needless to say, I won't be going. They're also staying at the Crowne Plaza (Hotel Georgia for you locals), so if you really, really care and it's still early enough, you can camp out for them and kick her in the shin for me. (Just kidding.) Or take pictures of them completely wiped because I'm sure it's going to be a fantastic show.
I am torn about getting tickets to a couple of other shows next month. I'm not sure when I'm moving, but kind of want to go to a show on the 30th, which could potentially be trouble if I have to move on the 1st. Or maybe I'll have to go against my nature and not procrastinate until the last minute with packing/cleaning. I hate moving.
Currently reading :
The Know-It-All : One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World
By A. J. Jacobs
Release date: 04 October, 2005
During my afternoon break, I went to Scratch to try to get tickets to a show on Thursday night. This worked poorly. It's part of New Music West, the most secretive festival ever. They refuse to advertise their shows and make their website almost impossible to figure out who is playing where. Apparently you have to buy tickets from the NMW office or hope there are some at the door. NMW is not an easy-to-negotiate festival, which is why it is unlikely I'll be going to more than this one show. This is not exciting news. It isn't even really news.
What is exciting (at least for some of you) is that, while looking for a couple of CDs, a guy from Much Music was filming these two people picking out records. I didn't really care that much because I was concerned with the tickets/CDs thing, and I don't get overly excited about bands unless I'm really obsessed with them, and I obviously am not obsessed with this one. The girl and guy had British accents, and I immediately didn't like the girl because she had chosen a Johnny Cash album as one of her favourites. When I hear people say they like Johnny Cash I have a hard time believing them because so many jumped on the bandwagon after "Walk The Line" came out. Yes, I realise this is a bitchy judgement on my part; I don't care. Anyway, she finished talking and then the guy started talking, saying something about liking beats and how "this one" (can't remember what he said... I really wasn't paying attention) really influenced his music. They finished their favourites lists and then did a little throw for the show it would appear on.
"We're from Ladytron and you're watching Going Coastal."
It was more amusing than exciting, especially when the guy (Reuben, I believe) waited for my stuff to be rung through and the girl (I suspect it was Helen, but what the hell do I know?) came by and said something snotty about how long it was taking. Whatever. Tickets to their show were $35 at the COMMODORE; you know how I feel about Commodore shows and paying a lot of money to see shows there. Needless to say, I won't be going. They're also staying at the Crowne Plaza (Hotel Georgia for you locals), so if you really, really care and it's still early enough, you can camp out for them and kick her in the shin for me. (Just kidding.) Or take pictures of them completely wiped because I'm sure it's going to be a fantastic show.
I am torn about getting tickets to a couple of other shows next month. I'm not sure when I'm moving, but kind of want to go to a show on the 30th, which could potentially be trouble if I have to move on the 1st. Or maybe I'll have to go against my nature and not procrastinate until the last minute with packing/cleaning. I hate moving.
Currently reading :
The Know-It-All : One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World
By A. J. Jacobs
Release date: 04 October, 2005
Sunday, April 23, 2006
mish mash
Odds and ends.
Mates of State were awesome on Friday. They almost make me want to get married. I say almost because I don't play any instruments (yet; the bass thing could still come together if I could remember what HC said about smaller scale ones) and so that whole dynamic of bonding or fighting on stage would be missing. But I'm also not sure that's a really strong reason to want to get married, and most people don't say they want to get married to play in a band with their spouse. Nevertheless, they were fun and really liked each other the whole time and I like them. The Plaza is a weird venue, especially since they let regular dance clubbers in towards the end of the show. Apparently these are the people that think moshing is fun.
When I went back downtown for the show I took Skytrain. Wish I hadn't because two girls got on at Main and one sat beside me. They were obviously together, but the other stood near the door and they kept looking at each other. As soon as the doors slid closed the show started. I guess they wanted the train to believe this was a chance meeting between two classmates from university since they announced it loudly. Then the one said she had a great job promoting a new hair product. I refused to look, instead staring out the window, willing my stop to come faster or that a freak accident would stop the talking. I think the girl beside me took off her hat and the other put product in her hair at some point. Then they talked about where you could get free samples. I made a mental note to avoid that area of town like the plague (though how do you avoid the plague? I never quite got that phrase). I looked around the train and there were no people the age group these girls were obviously targeting; it was mainly salarymen in suits, all looking weary and tired. None of them even acknowledged the demo when the girls got off to meet a herd of similar-looking girls at the next stop. I resent sound pollution, especially in small, confined spaces where you can't get away from it. I think the answer to this problem is this: I need to look crazier so people won't sit near me on public transit.
Yesterday I went to a large hardware/home improvement store and got some storage bins for my impending move and so things aren't just plunked into cardboard boxes anymore (or at least a couple of things won't be in cardboard boxes anymore, though the idea of lining my walls with storage bins is somehow intriguing). I mention this whole thing only because I discovered something exciting. I didn't like the idea of waiting in line behind 5 people with large, unwieldly stacks of 2x4s, all trying to maneuver them onto the scanning table. My safety was in question. So my sister wandered over to the self-checkout area and said something like, "Oh, but you have to use cash or debit." Not sure what form of currency she thought I'd be using, but I tenatively edged out of line, careful not to accidentally bump into the wood, even though that would have been sorta comical, like a whole comedy of errors thing or silly-looking chain reaction or maybe something like the whole mouse trap game which somehow ends with someone getting pushed out of the store or trapped under an upturned jacuzzi. The self-checkout was fun. Scanning! Following directions! Touching computer screens! These are things I like when outside the work context. And it was so easy that I finished checking out before 3 of the guys who had been in line ahead of me.
Anita also took me to the recycling depot so I could get rid of the bottles/cans I've been wanting to get out of my house but hadn't because I don't like dragging green garbage bags the 5 blocks to the grocery store. Call it vanity. It reminded me a little bit of going to the grocery store when I was a kid and having to cash in the cans my dad collected around the golf course while he was golfing. (I'm still convinced he got a golf cart specifically for holding cans, though our golf course is hilly and involves a couple of ravines, so in theory he probably could have needed the cart. I sure did like driving it. Which reminds me... A high-school boyfriend's friends actually stole a golf cart, drove it around town for around 3 or 4 hours unseen [except when they parked it at the house party we were at to show us], tore up the golf course doing donuts, and then dumped it into the canal that ran through his town [he lived in the next town over]. For months my dad would bring it up, like I had a hand in it or something, saying what a shame it was that kids got away with that. But I didn't crack! Maybe I should get into espionage... Eventually the guys did get caught and one of them was sent to a halfway house for troubled young men and was never the same again.) Right. Cans. I hated taking cans in when I was a kid, but there was something pleasing about counting them out this time. It was $8 worth, which was disappointing because it felt like $30 worth, but whatever. By the by, my dad collected so many cans that he bought a new golf bag, new golf shoes, binoculars, and a fishing rod. Then I moved away and am not sure what he's bought because the cans were a traumatic point in my formative years and I try not to ask too many questions.
Yesterday we also had a mini Ryan Reynolds marathon, watching "Waiting..." and "Just Friends." OK, I have to admit that I laughed my head off for both, the latter moreso than the former, and sorta have a crush on RR. Sigh.
I'm just listening to the stack of stuff I got from Poppolar (my computer doesn't like links, so go to www.poppolar.com and check out the plethora of exciting stuff from the far-reaches of the world. Lots of fantastic Swedish, Spanish, Brazillian, etc. bands, and Erico is super rad at suggesting stuff) and realise everything I got is good. This is not always so when purchasing CDs; I'm attracted sometimes by cover art and am cheated when the music is not given the same effort by the band, though I'm sure they did their best, but it doesn't match the cover art. But all this stuff is good. I'm fearful if I visit the website too often I will blow all my savings on CDs instead of stuff like tuition or a desk. Can I tell you I love Johan Angergard? Love him. He's in a million bands and all of them are good, Club 8 being my fav. Just listening to Acid House Kings and my mood has improved greatly. He's swoony.
Oh, if anyone wants to get together to do low-key home-based screen printing (or a reasonable alternative) in the next while let me know. Summer is coming fast and I'm tired of my current t-shirt collection. And if you want to go look for crappy used t-shirts to turn into better t-shirts using patterns/ideas from "Generation T" I'd be down for that as well.
Currently listening :
Sing Along With Acid House Kings
By Acid House Kings
Release date: 13 September, 2005
Mates of State were awesome on Friday. They almost make me want to get married. I say almost because I don't play any instruments (yet; the bass thing could still come together if I could remember what HC said about smaller scale ones) and so that whole dynamic of bonding or fighting on stage would be missing. But I'm also not sure that's a really strong reason to want to get married, and most people don't say they want to get married to play in a band with their spouse. Nevertheless, they were fun and really liked each other the whole time and I like them. The Plaza is a weird venue, especially since they let regular dance clubbers in towards the end of the show. Apparently these are the people that think moshing is fun.
When I went back downtown for the show I took Skytrain. Wish I hadn't because two girls got on at Main and one sat beside me. They were obviously together, but the other stood near the door and they kept looking at each other. As soon as the doors slid closed the show started. I guess they wanted the train to believe this was a chance meeting between two classmates from university since they announced it loudly. Then the one said she had a great job promoting a new hair product. I refused to look, instead staring out the window, willing my stop to come faster or that a freak accident would stop the talking. I think the girl beside me took off her hat and the other put product in her hair at some point. Then they talked about where you could get free samples. I made a mental note to avoid that area of town like the plague (though how do you avoid the plague? I never quite got that phrase). I looked around the train and there were no people the age group these girls were obviously targeting; it was mainly salarymen in suits, all looking weary and tired. None of them even acknowledged the demo when the girls got off to meet a herd of similar-looking girls at the next stop. I resent sound pollution, especially in small, confined spaces where you can't get away from it. I think the answer to this problem is this: I need to look crazier so people won't sit near me on public transit.
Yesterday I went to a large hardware/home improvement store and got some storage bins for my impending move and so things aren't just plunked into cardboard boxes anymore (or at least a couple of things won't be in cardboard boxes anymore, though the idea of lining my walls with storage bins is somehow intriguing). I mention this whole thing only because I discovered something exciting. I didn't like the idea of waiting in line behind 5 people with large, unwieldly stacks of 2x4s, all trying to maneuver them onto the scanning table. My safety was in question. So my sister wandered over to the self-checkout area and said something like, "Oh, but you have to use cash or debit." Not sure what form of currency she thought I'd be using, but I tenatively edged out of line, careful not to accidentally bump into the wood, even though that would have been sorta comical, like a whole comedy of errors thing or silly-looking chain reaction or maybe something like the whole mouse trap game which somehow ends with someone getting pushed out of the store or trapped under an upturned jacuzzi. The self-checkout was fun. Scanning! Following directions! Touching computer screens! These are things I like when outside the work context. And it was so easy that I finished checking out before 3 of the guys who had been in line ahead of me.
Anita also took me to the recycling depot so I could get rid of the bottles/cans I've been wanting to get out of my house but hadn't because I don't like dragging green garbage bags the 5 blocks to the grocery store. Call it vanity. It reminded me a little bit of going to the grocery store when I was a kid and having to cash in the cans my dad collected around the golf course while he was golfing. (I'm still convinced he got a golf cart specifically for holding cans, though our golf course is hilly and involves a couple of ravines, so in theory he probably could have needed the cart. I sure did like driving it. Which reminds me... A high-school boyfriend's friends actually stole a golf cart, drove it around town for around 3 or 4 hours unseen [except when they parked it at the house party we were at to show us], tore up the golf course doing donuts, and then dumped it into the canal that ran through his town [he lived in the next town over]. For months my dad would bring it up, like I had a hand in it or something, saying what a shame it was that kids got away with that. But I didn't crack! Maybe I should get into espionage... Eventually the guys did get caught and one of them was sent to a halfway house for troubled young men and was never the same again.) Right. Cans. I hated taking cans in when I was a kid, but there was something pleasing about counting them out this time. It was $8 worth, which was disappointing because it felt like $30 worth, but whatever. By the by, my dad collected so many cans that he bought a new golf bag, new golf shoes, binoculars, and a fishing rod. Then I moved away and am not sure what he's bought because the cans were a traumatic point in my formative years and I try not to ask too many questions.
Yesterday we also had a mini Ryan Reynolds marathon, watching "Waiting..." and "Just Friends." OK, I have to admit that I laughed my head off for both, the latter moreso than the former, and sorta have a crush on RR. Sigh.
I'm just listening to the stack of stuff I got from Poppolar (my computer doesn't like links, so go to www.poppolar.com and check out the plethora of exciting stuff from the far-reaches of the world. Lots of fantastic Swedish, Spanish, Brazillian, etc. bands, and Erico is super rad at suggesting stuff) and realise everything I got is good. This is not always so when purchasing CDs; I'm attracted sometimes by cover art and am cheated when the music is not given the same effort by the band, though I'm sure they did their best, but it doesn't match the cover art. But all this stuff is good. I'm fearful if I visit the website too often I will blow all my savings on CDs instead of stuff like tuition or a desk. Can I tell you I love Johan Angergard? Love him. He's in a million bands and all of them are good, Club 8 being my fav. Just listening to Acid House Kings and my mood has improved greatly. He's swoony.
Oh, if anyone wants to get together to do low-key home-based screen printing (or a reasonable alternative) in the next while let me know. Summer is coming fast and I'm tired of my current t-shirt collection. And if you want to go look for crappy used t-shirts to turn into better t-shirts using patterns/ideas from "Generation T" I'd be down for that as well.
Currently listening :
Sing Along With Acid House Kings
By Acid House Kings
Release date: 13 September, 2005
Sunday, April 16, 2006
proximal with fame
So I saw Timothy Hutton today and didn't even blush or freak out or jump him. I'm proud of this fact. It takes a strong woman to not pin him down and kiss him. A lot worse could have happened.
At one point during my severe Sloan obssession, I was on the second floor balcony overlooking a concert situation below when I saw Patrick Pentland walking through the crowd on the lower floor area. It took everything in my power to not jump off the balcony and tackle him. Really, the only thing stopping me was that I thought I would kill him (it was an unnaturally high second floor and he was on cement), or that I would miss and look like a suicide, and it took me a few minutes to convince myself that was the right decision. You're welcome, Pat.
Back to Timothy Hutton.
They're filming something else at my workplace (last week it was a Smallville episode) and when we got the email about filming in one of the areas where I work I got a sick feeling in my stomach. Some of you may remember the Al Pacino incident; bitterness lingers. I looked up this movie on IMDB and was pleased that the most famous person listed is Joely Richardson, who I couldn't care less about. I thought she played Zoe Busiuk: Wild Card and when I found out it was a different person I felt nothing. Less than nothing. I was void of feeling anything about her. I thought it was a kids' movie. Basically I just hoped the crew wouldn't be as bastardly as the last movie crew we had, who blocked up the toilets with at least 5 floors worth of (pardon the expression) crap, which may have included paint and articles of clothing but it was never confirmed. Then this morning we got an email reminding us of the filming today involving Joely Richardson and Timothy Hutton.
What?! Timothy Hutton!?!
There were mumblings among the crew that he wouldn't be here until after 5pm to shoot his scenes. I was disappointed because, you know, he's dreamy and stuff. But I was still hopeful. I had to cover reception, right in the middle of the chaos of dollies and cameras and cords and things I can't even begin to make up uses for and so many people. Then, while I read a story about the Duke lacrosse team getting hauled in by forensic police to find out which ones raped an exotic dancer, out comes Timothy Hutton looking exactly the way you would hope him to look, only a little older. Sigh.
He looked at me, or at least in my general direction since I was the only person there, and then went off to the next office area to check out the other set. My heart was ready to burst, covering his white buttoned shirt with the love only an 9-year-old girl can have for someone in a movie (I vaguely remember watching "Taps" 16 or 17 times, but only when he was on because he was so cute. I had a similar feeling towards C.Thomas Howell and, later, Christopher Barnes who had a Timothy Hutton-ness to him). But it didn't.
This brush made me think of the guy I went out with a couple of times who looked a bit like a younger Timothy Hutton. That didn't work out because he seemed to be drunk every time I saw him; the relationship felt a bit limiting when only one of us could focus. Timothy Hutton-ness only goes so far in your favour.
Oh, last night I went to We Are Scientists and, even though it was a bit hipster, it was so good. Keith the singing/guitar-playing boy was outstandingly cute. (I use cute a lot, don't I? I don't care; he WAS cute!) The Grapes were one of the openers and the only reason I liked them was because the singer jumped the whole time they played. Like, high kicks and '80s aerobic-type moves (a nod to Jane Fonda, really). And she convinced the crowd to chant for We Are Scientists to do the splits. They didn't. Then the crowd chanted for them to take their pants off (straight guys made the suggestion...). They didn't. Then the crowd chanted for an encore. I left a few minutes later, but it didn't seem like there was an encore. When you're cute you get away with a lot of shit. Or so I hear.
New hair today! Different colours and a slight cut. People keep asking me if I straightened my hair. Uh, ya. And put so much colour into it I look like the outer half of a rainbow. Cute!
Currently reading :
Emily Ever After
By Anne Dayton
Release date: 07 June, 2005
and more!
Holy crap!!! I just passed him in the elevator!!! He looked right at me while he was talking to Joely and they brushed by me. Swoon!
At one point during my severe Sloan obssession, I was on the second floor balcony overlooking a concert situation below when I saw Patrick Pentland walking through the crowd on the lower floor area. It took everything in my power to not jump off the balcony and tackle him. Really, the only thing stopping me was that I thought I would kill him (it was an unnaturally high second floor and he was on cement), or that I would miss and look like a suicide, and it took me a few minutes to convince myself that was the right decision. You're welcome, Pat.
Back to Timothy Hutton.
They're filming something else at my workplace (last week it was a Smallville episode) and when we got the email about filming in one of the areas where I work I got a sick feeling in my stomach. Some of you may remember the Al Pacino incident; bitterness lingers. I looked up this movie on IMDB and was pleased that the most famous person listed is Joely Richardson, who I couldn't care less about. I thought she played Zoe Busiuk: Wild Card and when I found out it was a different person I felt nothing. Less than nothing. I was void of feeling anything about her. I thought it was a kids' movie. Basically I just hoped the crew wouldn't be as bastardly as the last movie crew we had, who blocked up the toilets with at least 5 floors worth of (pardon the expression) crap, which may have included paint and articles of clothing but it was never confirmed. Then this morning we got an email reminding us of the filming today involving Joely Richardson and Timothy Hutton.
What?! Timothy Hutton!?!
There were mumblings among the crew that he wouldn't be here until after 5pm to shoot his scenes. I was disappointed because, you know, he's dreamy and stuff. But I was still hopeful. I had to cover reception, right in the middle of the chaos of dollies and cameras and cords and things I can't even begin to make up uses for and so many people. Then, while I read a story about the Duke lacrosse team getting hauled in by forensic police to find out which ones raped an exotic dancer, out comes Timothy Hutton looking exactly the way you would hope him to look, only a little older. Sigh.
He looked at me, or at least in my general direction since I was the only person there, and then went off to the next office area to check out the other set. My heart was ready to burst, covering his white buttoned shirt with the love only an 9-year-old girl can have for someone in a movie (I vaguely remember watching "Taps" 16 or 17 times, but only when he was on because he was so cute. I had a similar feeling towards C.Thomas Howell and, later, Christopher Barnes who had a Timothy Hutton-ness to him). But it didn't.
This brush made me think of the guy I went out with a couple of times who looked a bit like a younger Timothy Hutton. That didn't work out because he seemed to be drunk every time I saw him; the relationship felt a bit limiting when only one of us could focus. Timothy Hutton-ness only goes so far in your favour.
Oh, last night I went to We Are Scientists and, even though it was a bit hipster, it was so good. Keith the singing/guitar-playing boy was outstandingly cute. (I use cute a lot, don't I? I don't care; he WAS cute!) The Grapes were one of the openers and the only reason I liked them was because the singer jumped the whole time they played. Like, high kicks and '80s aerobic-type moves (a nod to Jane Fonda, really). And she convinced the crowd to chant for We Are Scientists to do the splits. They didn't. Then the crowd chanted for them to take their pants off (straight guys made the suggestion...). They didn't. Then the crowd chanted for an encore. I left a few minutes later, but it didn't seem like there was an encore. When you're cute you get away with a lot of shit. Or so I hear.
New hair today! Different colours and a slight cut. People keep asking me if I straightened my hair. Uh, ya. And put so much colour into it I look like the outer half of a rainbow. Cute!
Currently reading :
Emily Ever After
By Anne Dayton
Release date: 07 June, 2005
and more!
Holy crap!!! I just passed him in the elevator!!! He looked right at me while he was talking to Joely and they brushed by me. Swoon!
Wednesday, April 5, 2006
knitting for psychos
Today really reiterated that my co-workers are, as a whole, pretty nuts. This may or may not include me.
At work this morning I brought up the question you're supposed to ask someone to figure out if they're a sociopath. Most people were just generally confused (like, how could one question determine that?), but a few of the answers showed that I wasn't the only one who is good at rationalising murder. Not that any of us would kill anyone. Probably. At least I wouldn't.
After this exercise, one of my co-workers (the one on the path to saintliness) forwarded me photos his crafty sister-in-law found and thought about knitting. They involved knitted animals being impaled or bloodied in various, sometimes gruesome, ways. And we laughed. Out loud. Repeatedly. Does it make us bad people that a knitted bloody arm stuck in the mouth of a knitted tiger just seems cute? That enormous knitted scissors jabbed deeply into the chest cavity of a knitted doll is hilarious? That a teddy bear impaled on the horn of a unicorn with long drips of blood makes our sides hurt from all the laughing it causes? We are bad people. I know it. I just don't care.
Two phrases that came out of lunch with my friend/co-worker and a couple of guys from other departments: "danger pie" and "the idiotic table." I can't remember how danger pie came about, other than one of the guys declared he wanted pie, that he should want a special pie, but the recipe (which I've been sworn to secrecy and cannot reveal here) would, literally, kill you. Like, it would be so good it'd be dangerous. Danger Pie. My friend later declared that Danger Pie would be her stripper name. As for the idiotic table thing, it involved a story my friend relayed about an article she saw that had a smartypants doctor or someone saying that they should be looking at plants to cure diseases and illness instead of by looking at the periodic table, like this was a new idea. So, obviously: the idiotic table.
My co-worker to the right discussed with me what the difference is between male and female hipsters. I said it had nothing to do with their pants because male and female hipsters both wear women's jeans. She didn't believe me. Then I told her the story about David Sedaris going shopping with his sister Amy and allowing her to choose clothes for him in the ladies' department. He had to remember not to go to the urinal to pee when he wore certain pants because the zipper was at the back and that would be hard to explain to the guy at the next urinal.
Interesting information: there are no 7-11s in Newfoundland. And I've started pronouncing "car" as though I'm Rick Mercer's painfully slow half-sister. I cannot explain why this has come about.
I've been feeling pretty dull lately. The time change has really fucked me around; seems light affects me like it would a plant or something. My sleeping pattern is erratic at best. I've got to be up at 5:30am tomorrow, but I'm barely tired. Ugh. I'm screwed.
Currently listening :
Push Kings
By Push Kings
Release date: 20 October, 1998
At work this morning I brought up the question you're supposed to ask someone to figure out if they're a sociopath. Most people were just generally confused (like, how could one question determine that?), but a few of the answers showed that I wasn't the only one who is good at rationalising murder. Not that any of us would kill anyone. Probably. At least I wouldn't.
After this exercise, one of my co-workers (the one on the path to saintliness) forwarded me photos his crafty sister-in-law found and thought about knitting. They involved knitted animals being impaled or bloodied in various, sometimes gruesome, ways. And we laughed. Out loud. Repeatedly. Does it make us bad people that a knitted bloody arm stuck in the mouth of a knitted tiger just seems cute? That enormous knitted scissors jabbed deeply into the chest cavity of a knitted doll is hilarious? That a teddy bear impaled on the horn of a unicorn with long drips of blood makes our sides hurt from all the laughing it causes? We are bad people. I know it. I just don't care.
Two phrases that came out of lunch with my friend/co-worker and a couple of guys from other departments: "danger pie" and "the idiotic table." I can't remember how danger pie came about, other than one of the guys declared he wanted pie, that he should want a special pie, but the recipe (which I've been sworn to secrecy and cannot reveal here) would, literally, kill you. Like, it would be so good it'd be dangerous. Danger Pie. My friend later declared that Danger Pie would be her stripper name. As for the idiotic table thing, it involved a story my friend relayed about an article she saw that had a smartypants doctor or someone saying that they should be looking at plants to cure diseases and illness instead of by looking at the periodic table, like this was a new idea. So, obviously: the idiotic table.
My co-worker to the right discussed with me what the difference is between male and female hipsters. I said it had nothing to do with their pants because male and female hipsters both wear women's jeans. She didn't believe me. Then I told her the story about David Sedaris going shopping with his sister Amy and allowing her to choose clothes for him in the ladies' department. He had to remember not to go to the urinal to pee when he wore certain pants because the zipper was at the back and that would be hard to explain to the guy at the next urinal.
Interesting information: there are no 7-11s in Newfoundland. And I've started pronouncing "car" as though I'm Rick Mercer's painfully slow half-sister. I cannot explain why this has come about.
I've been feeling pretty dull lately. The time change has really fucked me around; seems light affects me like it would a plant or something. My sleeping pattern is erratic at best. I've got to be up at 5:30am tomorrow, but I'm barely tired. Ugh. I'm screwed.
Currently listening :
Push Kings
By Push Kings
Release date: 20 October, 1998
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