get on the bicycles

Last night's show made up for all the shitty, crappy shows and pissy, bitchy bands I've seen over the last few years. Seriously, if the Boy Least Likely To/the Bicycles tour rolls through your town, GO! Fun, fun, fun!!! Bands who seem to enjoy playing live! Coordinated dance moves! Boys wearing attractively-fitted jeans!

When I got there, 15 minutes after the bands were supposed to start, there were probably about 30 people. So sad. I was fearful. But by the time the Bicycles went on it had filled up a bit, or at least it looked like it because people actually crowded around the stage. In Vancouver, this is extremely rare, especially for an opening band. They were super fun with lots of handclapping and ba-da-bas. Really, I wish SSH had been there to check out the lady drummer because she was rad! Totally energetic and really fantastic.

And then the Boy Least Likely To came on and they were fun, too. They allowed a short question period and one of the questions was, "Are you married?" The two singers looked at each other and the one said, "Uh... we're just friends." It's so easy to like them because so many of their songs are catchy as hell. And it was hard not to smile at them. The one guy pumped his fist in the air the whole time, like he wanted to emphasize the point of each word of each song. Hilarious.

So, I think I might actually go buy a couple of rock tickets today. My faith in live music, and people at rock shows, is restored. The people around me were smiley and happy and almost grateful to be there to see this show, the first of the tour, The Bicycles' first stop on their first tour outside of Ontario. You poor suckers who didn't want to see bands you hadn't heard of before...

Currently listening :
Be Gentle With Me
By Boy Least Likely to
Release date: 24 April, 2006

back to life

I've moved.

Sunday was a nightmare. I don't even want to talk about it yet. Suffice it to say my friend Sara was the only thing keeping me from going mental on my family. Like, do I need to be reminded over and over that I didn't pack very well? No. Why mention it every 5 minutes? I can't talk about it. Too fresh.

Did I mention my parents decided to stay at my house, rather than my sister's clean apartment? Among the chaos? The only rational reason why is they hate her and like me. I suspect this is not the reason, though.

Yesterday I did a walk-through with my landlord, who neglected to notice the nightmare condition of the windows, and he was pleased with the way the place looked. My parents and sister cleaned it while I was at work yesterday and I met them over there afterwards. (I realise I am a mean and thoughtless person to allow my parents to clean up that hellhole, but the alternative was calling in sick and everyone at work knows I'm not sick. My family needs to have something to laud over me for the next few years, since I'm usually the good child.) The only problem, and it probably won't be a problem, is that my (old) landlord is going to send me a registered cheque for my damage deposit. Not sure why he couldn't give it to me then, but whatever. I have proof that he didn't pay me and proof of the original damage deposit cheque, so it's fine.

The new place, despite being packed with boxes and bags, is good. I've noticed how dry it is and my body is having a hard time adjusting to dryness. And I'll be so excited to clear a path to the door so I can take the lawn chairs out onto the patio (patio!) and drink cold beverages when it's warm. Neighborhood is good, too.

The only forseeable downside is the problem I encountered yesterday morning. I kid you not: I was awoken by the sound of crows fighting!

Currently reading :
Hey Buddy!
By Peter Bagge
Release date: 01 September, 1997

oh so bitter

I am seriously becoming the biggest bitch ever.

So I was at the Architecture in Helsinki show with TP and we secured our spot, up close enough that it would be very uncomfortable for others to move ahead of us. This, however, did not stop tallish men from pushing their way ahead of us and standing right in front of us. The first guy I started swearing at (who swears at strangers? Me, apparently) and he moved towards a thicket of tall men. But then the trouble began.

A huddle of dark-haired girls, some wearing haltertops, pushed their way in from the side. People tolerated it because there were only four. Then they called for their boyfriends to elbow their way to them with their drinks. So we rolled our eyes and re-established. Then more came, shoving worse than the others. I told a guy pushing on my shoulder he'd better not be trying to move towards the girls that just shoved their way in front of everyone and he got a worried look and moved in front of a guy who laughed at our stories about tall people at rock shows. Poor him. Then they started smoking. I, as nicely as is possible for me to be (which I think we all know isn't very nice), said they knew there was no smoking in the venue and to put it out. The guys beside me gave me a thumbs-up. The smoking guy was fine with putting it out, but apparently these girls think that if you're suck-up nice to people that they will allow you to do something detrimental in an over-crowded space. When I said it again she said something to her friends and they all looked at me. Like I care. So their friends started dancing like jackasses, waving their arms and grinding asses into those around them.

For the first time in ages, though, people around me were as annoyed as I was. A few other people also told this particular group to stop doing stupid shit that shouldn't be done in a crowd. I am so sick of people thinking that, if others aren't dancing as hard as them or drinking as much as them, they're the only ones that know how to have fun. I'm OK at having fun at rock shows. Sometimes I excel. But I also don't do stuff that's going to ruin someone else's time at a show. If the show were free, fine. But almost everyone has to pay for tickets and has the same right to enjoy (or hate) the show in whatever way they want. Except when it impacts others.

Sigh. Off the soapbox.

I would, however, have no problem going to shows with a 6'0" person in another city who likes the pop music and polka.

On the upside, I got the latest ReadyMade just as I was leaving home and had it with me the whole time, so at least I had something to look forward to while avoiding keys smacking against my hip and long hair whipped in my face.

Seriously, why are you friends with me? I'm so fricking grumpy lately.

"Attic and a basement with the knives serrated, I'll protect you." I'm thinking about knives now!

Currently listening :
Fingers Crossed
By Architecture in Helsinki
Release date: 06 April, 2004

show off

Today I discovered that I will be doing a bunch of displays at work over the next few days. They include the following themes:
1) Sci Fi/Fantasy: I'm thinking of someone with a sword fighting a robot. Or replicate a couple of super-lame covers in construction paper. This is a fairly medium sized display. Should be wicked awesome.
2) Adult summer reading: this will just be a construction paper skyline of Vancouver. Boring. But I will still spend 15 hours on it because I'm like that. I wanted to make the Marine Building in construction paper, so it's a view of Coal Harbour. How many days can I lose to paper displays? I have 4 to spare.
3) Pirates!!!!: I'm wearing a stripey shirt today and mentioned to my co-displayer (she's doing a Greek display) that I was feeling piratey today (arrr) and she FREAKED OUT. Like, she started planning the display in her head. So, we're jointly working on the pirate display, which will be 3D and may involve heads of the stars of "Pirates of the Caribbean" stuck on cartoonish pirate bodies (with satin pants). And a ship sticking out.

I find it hilarious that I get paid to do this sort of stuff. If you have any really good ideas for images to recreate, let me know. Also it's interesting that so many people I know are obsessed with pirates. You know who you are.

Speaking of which, maybe our pirate-appreciation day should be a month instead. I vote June, not only because it's next month, but because John Roberts became Bartholomew Roberts in June of 1719, aka The Great Pirate Roberts. I like to think of him as the Dread Pirate Roberts because there is no real date in the book and most people should know who the Dread Pirate Roberts is.

FYI, I will be almost unresponsive the next few days, probably until Tuesday or Wednesday, as The Move is on. I still have craploads of stuff to pack/clean in the house and things/services to switch over, and want to avoid all of it by summoning my fairy godmother or elves or Mary Poppins. Oh, or I can get myself hospitalised and then other people will be forced to help me. That's a good plan...

Currently reading :
Cut! : Hollywood Murders, Accidents, and Other Tragedies
By Denise Imwold
Release date: 09 November, 2005

mo ikkai

With the excessive head pain last night, I forgot to mention that, while on Granville Island, we went to the market and happened across a stall that sold konnyaku. This, in itself, is not interesting. What was interesting was that they sold konnyaku from our prefecture (Gunma)! No one outside of Japan has heard of Gunma, and most people in Japan don't know it either. It's literally in the middle of Japan, the bellybutton, one of only 5 (out of 47) prefectures not bordered by water. It is odd to see anything made in Gunma in other prefectures in Japan, let alone in another country.

Konnyaku is a flavourless jelly-type glob made from the starches of a taro root-type plant that people call a potato, but it isn't, and has a dull grey colour and flecks of black in it. It looks like someone accidentally dropped it in the dustbin and then forgot to wash it before serving it. Ew.

There are flavoured snack konnyaku cups that are tasty (the heart shaped ones), but they discontinued the pommegranite (pomegranite?) flavour. And yearly people die from eating konnyaku snacks because they don't chew it (it is a jelly) and wind up choking on the glob. How embarassing would that be, to have cause of death listed as choking on jello?

If anyone can find chewy aloe vera candies can you let me know? They discontinued them and I never found an alternative.

Currently reading :
Overcoming Passive-Aggression : How to Stop Hidden Anger from Spoiling Your Relationships, Career and Happiness
By Tim Murphy
Release date: 09 November, 2005

i heart vancouver

I said I was going to update on the weekend and I've gotta do it while the weekend is still at hand.

OK, on Friday Tamaki and I met up with my co-workers for dinner and drinks at a Newfie bar. Tamaki is pretty good at English (you know, being an English teacher and all), but some of my co-workers talk REALLY fast and say "um" a lot. I have a hard time following sometimes, so I can imagine what it would be like if English were your second language. We left them and went for a walk to English Bay to catch up. She asked about my time in Japan, how I dealt with some of the cultural obstacles. I think she was surprised by some of the stuff I had to deal with that aren't problems here, like the inappropriate comments/actions by co-workers and the movie starness I got being a big, white girl. I mean, people in the grocery store asked to shake my hand, I often had to pose for pictures with complete strangers, signed autographs for no reason, etc. She sounded a little disappointed that people didn't really care that she was Japanese, but was amazed by how multicultural Canada actually is. I think, especially in rural areas that don't have many foreigners, Japanese people assume everyone is white in western countries. Here it's pretty hard to tell foreigners from citizens.

Saturday we met up for morning tea and gave my French friend Fabrice time to haul his ass downtown so we could all go on the bus tour of Vancouver. The tour is the cost of a minor body organ, but gave us hop on/off access for two days. I tried to quietly supplement some of what the bus driver was saying, but a woman behind my friends shushed me. Shushed! What, you don't want to know there were actually three Hotel Vancouvers? Fine. Get excited about some shitty revolving restaurant, not even the tallest one in the city. The tour made me realise that I don't like tourists that much. Tamaki wanted to go to the brewery on Granville Island, so we hopped off and bought tickets. The tour was sorta dull, but afterwards we got the four beer sampler, including an alcoholic ginger beer. We talked with some of the other tourees and I gave local tips/directions (they asked). I should totally be a tour guide. We got back onto the bus, a little tipsy, and continued on until we got to the library. After a lengthy discussion, including me having to explain to Fabrice why I no longer want to talk to our mutual friend who is a complete jackass (see one of the February blogs for details), we decided to go for Malaysian food and a movie. The movie: Over the Hedge. Steve Carell? Hilarious. I don't know what kind of hyperactive animal he was, a squirrel maybe, but the best scene of the whole movie was when the other animals gave him a caffeinated drink to implement the final plan. It was brilliant. Except that Avril Lavigne was in it.

Yesterday Tamaki and I went for dim sum in Chinatown. I could seriously go for dim sum weekly and probably wouldn't get sick of it. The one server kept talking to Tamaki, even though I was the one who ordered stuff and Tamaki had never been for dim sum and had no idea what the girl was talking about. I find this sort of thing amusing. We went for another ride on the bus, this time stopping in Stanley Park to walk around a bit. After a while the weather started turning, so we decided to take the Sea Bus to Lonsdale to have a bite at the Quay. As exciting as it sounds. By this time I was feeling a bit deadly, the being nice for two whole days, and so we went for a hot chocolate and then she headed back to the hostel and I went home.

My successor in Japan sent an email to say she and her husband and baby would probably be moving to Canada this summer and her husband's family would be coming for a visit, and could I guide them around for a day? It will be hilarious good times trying to tour them in Japanese; my Japanese skills suck now.

Have you been to the HMV at Burrard and Robson lately? The bear on the corner is AWESOME! Easily the most interesting of all the bears in the city.

Holy crap, my head hurts. I'm totally going to bed.

Currently listening :
Le Mans / Entresemana
By Le Mans
Release date: 24 March, 1998

tsukareta, but easily distracted

I've been feeling very Japanesey lately. It's calling to me, I swear.

My friend has been in town this weekend. She was the Japanese English teacher in one of the schools I worked in and I haven't seen her for a few years. She decided to take a year sabbatical from teaching and come to Canada to observe in elementary schools, so has been living in Vernon since mid-March. We've been touristing and it's pretty exhausting.

One thing that I both love and hate about Japan is that, whenever you see someone you haven't seen for a while or are just meeting for the first time, you have to give a present, or omiyage. Because I live here I didn't have to give anything, but Tamaki brought me a gift for showing her around Vancouver. And it is one of the raddest gifts I've ever gotten, behind the Jon Cryer-signed "Pretty in Pink" soundtrack on vinyl. She gave me four sets of chopsticks with little bunnies on them, a cotton headscarf thing (you know the ones... it's a piece of cotton with some group's insignia on it and you have to fold it and tie it around your head for communal konnyaku-making day or sports day. I can't remember what it's called), a box of Meiji Almond, and...... a sumo mouse pad!

I love sumo. I mean, I LOVE sumo. Now it's much harder to keep up with it because it's all stats, but still. While living in Japan I went to four or five tournaments (basho) and Akebono's retirement ceremony. (Akebono was the first foreign yokozuna, or grand champion, and was enormous by the time he retired: 6'5" and over 500 pounds. This is a very uncommon size for rikishi; most wrestlers are surprisingly football-playerish and agile. The retirement ceremony seems a little degrading: all the rikishi line up and cut a strand of his hair until the last person, usually one of the high ranking sumo officials, does the final cut and removes the sumo ponytail. It takes hours for everyone to get in on the action.) I was also a somewhat frequent visitor to the sumo hotel in my village for parties and the owner (a very active and high-ranking member of one of the sumo stables [a stable is almost like a sports team, only the athletes all live and work in the stable, working their way up to a higher rank in the sumo hierarchy]) took a shine to me, so constantly sent over sumo-related gifts to my workplace and helped me get sweet seats for the Osaka basho (tournament) the spring my parents and aunt came to Japan. It is extremely hard to get really good seats at basho and Osaka is the hardest one to get into because Osaka is so traditional about sumo. This owner also let me and my parents/aunt stay at the hotel one night with the biggest spread of food I've ever seen for four people, including a tonne of sushi and sashimi, which finally got my parents to eat raw fish after saying they wouldn't touch it the previous two weeks. And the onsen there is one of the best; they have flowers floating in the bath, the bath shaped like a sumo dojo! (If you happen to be in central Japan, I can give you directions to my village, one of the best onsen areas in Japan.)

This wasn't really supposed to be about sumo. I just can't stop talking about it. It's a completely rad sport.

Just this last thing... The reason I loved paying up to $400 for the sweet seats is, in that seating, I got to sit closer in a box on cushions and get a full all-day meal with loads of beer and some sort of keepsake, like handmade ceramics or laquerware, which are completely awesome because so few people get them. And when there's an upset at the end of the day's events (which almost always happens), you get to throw your cushion at the ring and yell really, really loud. The closer you sit to the front, the more likely it is you're going to get wave of ass cushions to the head because people misjudge their cushion throwing skills and few make it into the ring.

See what sumo does to me? I initially meant to write about my day yesterday and why I was so tired, but it seems anticlimatic now. Everything pales in comparison to sumo. And I have loads of sumo stories. But I'll get to yesterday's recap maybe tomorrow or soon. We're going for dim sum and Round #2 of the touristy bus tour today.

Can I say that I am SO COMPLETELY JEALOUS of my friend Scott. Not only is he going to Japan for 9 days, but he's starting off his trip in Chicago, one of my favourite places ever. Some guys have all the luck. Or are far better planners than I.

Currently listening :
Shingo Mama No Oha Rock
By Shingo Katori
Release date: 15 January, 2001

habits and such

These are the rules: Once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog about 6 WEIRD THINGS or HABITS about yourself. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged, and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says: "You've been tagged! Read my latest blog for details." Enjoy!

1) I still can't step on cracks for fear I'll break my mother's back. Seriously.
2) I wear Hallowe'en socks (purple with tiny green witches flying around on brooms) all year round, even though I generally dislike Hallowe'en (you'll need to comb through previous blogs to figure out why).
3) I own a Norah Jones CD, purchased with my own money, but never listened to completely. The shame... For me, this is weird.
4) When I meet someone for the first time, I think of various conversations we could have in the future and I decide if we can be friends based on these internal dialogues.
5) I check my closet nightly to make sure someone isn't hiding in there. I even set little traps so I'll know if someone tried to get out while I sleep.
6) I want to strike out at people who use the word "irregardless" because it isn't a real word.

Tag:
- Rachel
- Nelia
- Tangiene
- David B. aka the cutest boy in the world
- Mike P.
- Colin/Chickpea (a combo!)

this is a promise with a catch

Just back from a screening of "The Devil and Daniel Johnston." So good. I'd heard and liked bits from various DJ albums. I appreciate his love of love; he's got a sweet approach. I didn't know much more about him, though, except that he seemed a little quirky. After seeing the movie... It just puts his music into perspective so much more.

The screening was part of an ongoing series of films related to mental health, put on by one of the departments at UBC that deals with health issues. DJ lives with manic depression and is now medicated after some rather elaborate situations untreated and time spent in institutions. His condition has both helped and hindered him, much of it fully documented on cassette and film; the ups include talking his way onto MTV and impressing them so much that they add his live performance to a national program, the bottom includes causing the plane his father is flying to crash. It's unbelievable how much there is, the documentation of his thoughts and performances through the years, starting from his home movies when he was a teenager. It was funny and earnest and heart-wrenching and hopeful and sad. It was so nice to see something worth seeing.

For me, though, I was just happy to hear "True Love Will Find You In The End" almost in its entirety. It made tears pool in my eyes and cascade down faster than I could wipe them away. It's my go-to song when I'm feeling miserable because it almost always makes me feel better.

And by the end you understand that, like it or not, he makes some of the most engaging music of any singer/songwriter, wonky voice included. And if you live in Vancouver it's showing at Tinseltown starting next week.

two left hands

Since I've been horrifyingly dull as of late, today I decided to attempt to be crafty. Sorta take the focus away from being boring. That Pet Shop Boys thing. "We were never being bored because we were never being boring." You know.

Currently I'm in the midst of knitting a fun fur scarf in black and raspberry stripes. It's going surprisingly well, considering. Contrary to what the name suggests, fun fur isn't really fun. It's like furry string. String is hard to knit. And I may have mentioned that I'm a terrible knitter. Saying I'm terrible is being generous.

Being extremely left-handed, my right hand is weak and pitiful when it comes to dexterity or holding things. My technique is... You know how you're supposed to loop the yarn around one of your fingers so you can easily wrap it over the needles? Ya, I can't do that. My fricking right hand drops the yarn or the needle, so instead of struggling to do both I let it just sorta balance the needle while the right index maneuvers the needle into the loop and then picks up the yarn to wrap. And the right hand doesn't even really balance the needle; it holds it steady while the rounded end is jabbed into my hipbone for leverage. I am slow and my technique looks crappy, so I'm embarassed to knit around others.

Also, I can only knit; haven't gotten around to any projects that require purling. Which is why I only make scarfs. But everyone needs a scarf, right? Right? Still, despite all this going against me, I will not quit knitting yet. I will endeavor. The multiple balls of wool will have to wait until I get better skills or finish the furry catepillar.

Today I also set up my sewing machine and finally worked with the oilcloth I got a couple months ago. I've decided that I like oilcloth. It's pretty easy to work with and the colours you can get are fabulous. It's a little easier to work with than vinyl, and I like sewing with vinyl. If anyone wants to go with me to collect more oilcloth for more sewing projects... I'm ready to go anytime. They make cute bags.

This week will be pretty busy. "The Devil and Daniel Johnston" is screening, there's a backroom tour of the Art Gallery, and Mates of State is playing a dance club! And I give notice to my landlord and begin the immense struggle to pack/clean 3 1/2 years worth of stuff in the next couple weeks. Dread.

Currently listening :
Awful Mess Mystery
By Wolfie
Release date: 07 September, 1999

melty

For whatever reason, I had a slight meltdown just over an hour ago. Maybe more of a defrosting, or a softening.

I was 1 1/2 hours into "Return of the King" at my sister's, after a lovely day of hanging out and a tasty dinner including pot roast, yams, carrots and brussel sprouts (still don't really like brussel sprouts), when all of a sudden I started feeling weird. Like the air was harder to breathe. At that moment I needed to know when the last train left so I'd know if I could watch the end of the film and still catch the train. I couldn't. This upset me more than is rational, and I got all sulky and pissy and decided right at that moment that I needed to go home. Understandably, my sister was baffled, even though I'm sure I've pulled crap like this before. I was just inconsolable.

Now I'm at home and have called my sister four times since leaving her. I feel basically fine. I just wish I knew what was going on so I could explain it. It's just so frustrating. It's like the Mean Reds: you're sad, but you don't know what you're sad about. Or was it you're scared? No, no, sad.

I've just no reason to be sad. I've had some extremely enjoyable nights out with friends the last week, including lots of good times visiting with Dulcie and Nels, and extra dessert with Rachel, Nathan and Gusty. All of this was good.

Maybe it's the holiday thing. I often find holidays unbearable, either because I can't get time off to be with my family or because I'm with my family. Really, I'm never happy. It might also be that I'm back on the chocolate after surviving 40 days without. Do addicts become mean or sad when they go back on stuff after detox? All I know is I'm feeling very raw and vulnerable. I dislike both feelings immensely.

On the upside, I still have two episodes of Nero Wolfe to finish, and I might as well finish them tonight. Then I can dream about Timothy Hutton.

wasuremashita

I think I need to stop buying CDs.

Last week I decided to put together a J-pop CD for my friend (shhh, don't tell him) and scrounged through my collection for a few of the choice cuts I collected while I was there. One single that I really wanted was missing. I looked through all my CDs four times. I checked behind the stereo. I started to panic that I, somehow, hadn't listened to it since Japan (*unheard of!) and had maybe somehow left it when I moved back to Canada. Then I noticed that a few other CDs were missing.

My stomach twitched with anxiety. I started to think of who had been to my house (surprisingly, over the last three-and-a-half years, the number is low) and if any of them would snatch my sappy J-pop. That wasn't even a possibility. So... I started looking at Amazon Japan and concocted a plan to order new copies along with other J-titles for work. The pages were marked. I'd given up.

Then a couple days ago I looked at the CD holder I had when I was in Japan that I haven't used since because it sucks. I was just going to toss it in the charity pile, but decided I should check to make sure it was empty. And guess what I found.

Twenty-six CDs that I hadn't looked at for almost four years.

So, obviously, I don't need any more CDs and it just makes sense to stop buying them.

By the way, the single I was looking for is brilliant. "Sunny Day Sunday" by Sentimental Bus. If you ever see it in Hard Off (they have one in Vancouver now!!!), buy it.

*while in Japan, I would often take the Shinkansen into Tokyo on the weekend one-day cheap ticket for ladies ("onna no hito no ichi nichi ichiban yasui kippu, onegaishimasu," even though it had a real name; I couldn't ever remember it) and go to the Tower Records in Shinjuku. It was pretty easy to drop 20,000 yen (around $250 Cdn at that time) in less than an hour, pop over to Ameyoko near Ueno Station to buy shoes or watches, go to the Ueno Art Museum for an exhibit, drop into the British pub near Ueno Station for Happy Hour, and still get home before 8pm. I would also drive 2 hours to Takasaki for the less-impressive selection at the Tower Records there. And, of course, an hour in to Bunshindo in Numata for the latest J-pop singles. Which is why I came back with something dumb like 300 CDs.

Lately I miss Japan. Sugoku natsukashii.

Currently listening :
Hatsu
By Whiteberry
Release date: 06 October, 2000

boxed in

So I'm in the midst of packing my life into cardboard boxes, trying to figure out if parts are unimportant enough to get rid of. So far the bathroom is, more or less, weeded and boxed. The kitchen is probably between 1/4 and 1/3 done. My fridge magnet collection is bagged. I even took the time to pull down the latest spider web behind the stove that I usually just leave because that fricking spider (it's about the size of a generous coffee mug) spins another one as soon as I leave the room. In my bedroom, most of my clothes are sorted, some discarded, and the rest are in holding containers; my dresser is empty except for my remaining t-shirt collection, which looks sad and lacking. My cameras, almost all of them, are packed. This sounds like progress, doesn't it?

It isn't.

The living room is the bane of my existence. Music-related mediums are dealt with and I don't feel any great concern about that, except maybe needing another hard container for the excess CDs that don't fit in the ones I have (you know, I talked about this already). The real problem, the problem every time I move, the problem that I think my family really means to address when they tell me to get rid of stuff, is the rows of books and stacks of magazines that I refuse to deal with.

I like books. I like owning books. I like referring back to books I own. Sometimes I just like to look at the spines of the acquisitions in my mini library. The thought of getting rid of any of them, even the ones that aren't my favourites, makes me sick in the same way people get sick when thinking of putting their pet down. "Well, that's just crazy," I hear you say. "They aren't alive! They're just books!" If only that were true.

Maybe it's the whole "it's not what you are like; it's what you like" thing. (I feel like I revisit this a lot.) I don't want to misrepresent myself by ridding my collection of "The Big Book of Sumo" or "John Hall and His Patients: The Medical Practice of Shakespeare's Son-in-Law" because I was obsessed with sumo for years AND have an ongoing interest in medical procedures pre-Florence Nightingale. I might not read them very often, but I still want them. You see my problem.

It's the same with magazines. I barely buy magazines, so the two I get regularly are ones I really want and always contain DIY projects I have made and would like to make again, or things I may try when rainy days and Mondays get me down. Or when I want to pack in packing.

I'm starting to get that crippling feeling of not wanting to do anything but sit on the futon and sleep. Even the Deluxe Nancy Pearl Librarian Action Figure shrine atop the bookshelf isn't helping me along. Nancy Pearl (Seattle Public Library librarian, FYI, and a frumpy dresser to perpetuate the horrible, inaccurate librarian stereotype) seems to be whispering, "You look tired. Just have a frozen yogurt bar and relax. The packing elves will do it." And I'm so close to believing her despite her shapeless, ankle-length skirt telling me she doesn't know what she's talking about.

I'm aiming to put the entire top shelf into boxes right now; it's my foreign language/cookbook shelf. Wish me luck.

As an aside: you know who has a charmed life? Andy Greenwald, author of "Miss Misery." Seriously. Go read his latest blog: http://www.myspace.com/andygreenwald. It will make you MENTAL with envy.

Currently listening :
15 Angry Men
By Hideki Kaji
Release date: 20 July, 1999

calling the kettle black

In regards to demonstrations during the seal hunt in Labrador and Quebec; guess which side said this:

"What has happened out here has crossed a line," Aldworth said. "Of course they have a right to protest, and I respect that.
"But when you put human lives at risk and prevent people from engaging in lawful activities, you've crossed the line into assault and reckless endangerment.
"That is not legal in this country and this is still Canada," she said.

Think you know?

You're probably wrong. It's anti-seal hunt people complaining about pro-seal hunt demonstrators preventing helicopters from the US Humane Society from flying over hunting grounds. I find this HILARIOUS. Read more at: http://www.cbc.ca/story/canada/national/2006/04/13/hunt-blanc-sablon.html

Did you know that touching baby seals is illegal? Since Heather McCartney was filmed petting a baby harp seal (the cute, fluffy white ones), I'll be expecting charges laid any second now.

Currently reading :
Julie and Julia : 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen
By Julie Powell
Release date: 28 September, 2005

thong, thong, thong, thong, thong, thong

Current mood: judge + mental

A few days ago during lunch, my friend and I sat on the steps outside work and ate. It was lovely; the weather was sunny and it was more or less warm. There might have even been some guy playing guitar behind us (though this wasn't really that great. It was sort of annoying because it was hard to talk with him there, and if he just wanted to spread love or make people happy he failed miserably with me. Cat Stevens songs don't make me happy). Anyway, I was enjoying my lunch and enjoying the weather and chatting with my friend and it was all good. Until my friend had to point out something disturbing.

To my right, around the 4 o'clock direction, there was a girl wearing a thong.

I am opposed to thongs on many levels, but this one was particularly bad because she was wearing lightish pants with a dark thong. And I know this because the pants were low-slung and the thong was halfway up her back. And it puckered her skin so it looked like she had cellulite everywhere below the thong, which I'm sure wasn't really the case when she wasn't wearing the thong but was in this instance. It looked like someone gave her a really severe wedgie. REALLY severe.

Now, I know fashion experts swear by thongs for giving pantylineless smooth bums and all that, and I'm sure to some people it is the most important decision they'll make all year, but I cannot get behind thongs. Seeing the top elastic part of thongs is not better than seeing pantylines. And when people say that thongs are soooo comfortable they obviously haven't tried very hard to find well-fitted panties. A piece of string rubbing in your asscrack doesn't sound comfortable. "Oh, but it is," says the haltertop. Right. Having tried one, I will never believe it. Brainwashing techniques will not convince me otherwise.

I only mention it because I know I wield immense power in the fashion world.

I used to work with a girl who exclusively wore thongs. She admitted this out loud. Shortly after this admission, she had some sort of mental breakdown and stopped talking and was finally forced to quit her job because you sort of have to talk in customer service and her sister may have gotten her some professional help. The moral of this story is that thongs fuck with your chemical balance.

And we're coming into the season when everyone is going to want to start showing how sexy they are by showing off that they're wearing thongs. I thought the whole point of wearing them was to NOT see underpanties.

On the flip, flip flops (aka thongs) are OK.

Currently listening :
Last Secrets
By Like Young
Release date: 09 May, 2006

arrr!

I've been trying to read all of "Pirattitude!" but have been having a hard time getting through some of the wordier stuff. I like summaries, but they like to write more than summaries. Their lists of pirattitudey things are pretty hilarious, so that's what's keeping me into the book.

Initially I was curious about it based on the name alone. I mean, who doesn't want to be a pirate? They get to drink a lot of booze on the job and wear loads of rings and wear shiny pants. And, in the case of "Pirates of Penzance", they get to dance and sing.

You want to know some things/people that/who have pirattitude? George Foreman grills, Aunt Jemima, duct tape, Tonya Harding and cirrhosis of the liver. My Piradiac sign is Bone Saw and I was born in the Year of the Pufferfish (don't fuck with the pufferfish).

I feel myself becoming more piratey by the minute. Soon I will be pillaging like it was 1699.

The only forseeable problem is the ship. Even if I manage to find a ship to sail on, I'd still have to sail on it in open water. I took a ferry from Tokyo to Okinawa for Christmas one year and swore I'd never take a ferry again. I was on the boat for 2 1/2 days each way and the weather was BAD. Like, the boat tipped so much that all I saw was either a window full of sky or a window full of water. Eek.

Thankfully, Talk Like A Pirate Day is only once a year (September 19th) and I have a few months to ready myself for it.

Currently reading :
Pirattitude!: So you Wannna Be a Pirate? : Here's How!
By John Baur
Release date: 06 September, 2005

crybaby

Last night I watched "The Truth About Cats and Dogs" because it was on and I like background noise when I'm doing stuff. The thing is I completely ditched what I was going to do and just watched the whole thing, start to finish. For whatever reason I like that movie a lot. Probably because it's a fairytale or something. It makes me cry.

Like, how often does that happen, falling in love with someone over the phone? Or from listening to them on a radio? When I had a radio show (sure, fine, it was only campus/community radio, but still) I only had calls from people that sounded scary, like they wanted to eat my brain or wanted my skin for a new coat. One guy informed me he loved my voice while beating off (short call, obviously). But never did an attractive man want to date me just from hearing me talk. Granted, I'm no Jeannine Garofalo.

In reality, a lot of the people I know from radio are actually attractive. The old adage about having a face for radio isn't relevant in most cases I've seen. Except for the one guy who had a bit of a white man afro, but he managed to get married with it, so someone thought he was attractive. And me, apparently.

I guess I'm unconvinced that Jeannine Garofalo was ugly, even compared to Uma Thurman. Like, Uma Thurman just looks weird sometimes and she didn't show her teeth in that movie. It's unnatural to smile without teeth at least some of the time. Watching the part when Abby/Donna leaves the guy's apartment and then sits outside to cry is the same feeling I get when watching "Some Kind of Wonderful," when Watts walks away crying so Keith and Amanda Jones can be alone. I always get the hopeful feeling that the guy won't be an ass and will realise she's the one he wants, not the pretty one. Even though all movies end like that anyway, with the ugly girl getting the boy. Are there any when it doesn't?

OK, I get too involved in movies. I'm a sucker. This is why I shouldn't watch romcoms.

Currently listening :
Aim Right for the Holes in Their Lives
By Novillero
Release date: 07 June, 2005

socially awkward

Last night I went to my first Pilates class. Even though the instructor took it easy on us (16 women and one man [guys, if you're looking for ladies...]), I still thought I would hurt more than I do. My shoulders are a little stiff, but I sleep like a contortionist, so it's hard to tell which made me sore. Guess I'll know by next week when we start the regular routine. I never knew breathing could be so hard.

I mention this whole thing only because I came face-to-face with a blast from my past. After high school, before university, I worked a hellacious retail job on the fast-track to management glory. During my second promotion, I worked for a nutty manager who gave me peptalks on how to get out of the fucked up relationship I was in. But he was seriously nuts, so the peptalks usually involved him telling me to have as much sex with the boyfriend as possible because it could be the last time I ever did. Uh... In retrospect, that probably bordered on some form of sexual harassment, now that I think of it.

Back to the story.

So I went in for my class last night and who should be wandering around but this manager, Al. He seemed to recognise me, though I'm not sure if he really did or if he just responded to me saying his name after he stared at me for a couple of minutes. Then he was all sweetness and light, chitchatting about what I've been up to, if I'm still working at Murchies (I have NEVER worked anywhere that would even be mistaken for Murchies). He seemed to think we ran into each other recently (I haven't seen him in at least 12 years) or that one of our mutual acquaintances told him where I was working (unlikely since I talk to only one person from that time and he lives in the distant suburbs). It was at that point that I told him not to be concerned, that it had been a long time and I didn't expect him to know who I am. "Oh, but of course I know you." Mmmhmmm...

Anyway, as soon as I got home I immediately called my friend from that time and told him about this encounter. He was surprised (even more surprised to realise he remembered Al's last name) and confirmed that he hadn't seen Al for years and that Al was a big liar.

I can't understand when people obviously don't know who you are and pretend that they totally do. Like, even caught in the lie, admitting would be better than floundering. And, I mean, it would have been pretty easy for him to wait the couple of seconds it would have taken me to go to the changerooms and then looked at my name on the card. It just made him look really dumb. I didn't even expect him to know who I was, so would have been fine if he would have just said it from the start. Now he will obviously have to quit his job and go elsewhere to hide from the shame of not remembering someone he worked with more than 12 years ago.

Certain friends are horrible at remembering names and I'm always amused when we run into their acquaintances. Half the time they don't even bother trying to introduce us, the other half they say my name and hope the other person will say theirs. I suppose I do this too, to some extent, but more often than not I don't even acknowledge the person because of my extreme social shyness. Unless they come up to me.

During my last year at university, I happened to run into a girl I met in my first year who really wanted to be friends with me, but at that time she mainly talked about getting an IUD and having a lot of sex with her deadbeat boyfriend (I was almost exclusively interested in music). On this chance encounter, I saw her walking towards me as I tried to shuffle things in my bag on a bench, prompting me to work faster to get away, but she put her bag down and also started sorting her bag. Then she casually (though I could totally see her plan) said my name and then started chatting about what we'd been up to. She still wanted to be friends, but mentioned that she was dating a new guy, with whom she'd had sex in a plane just before they went skydiving, because he was a skydiving instructor and they were talking about getting married during a jump. Uh... I just kept thinking about IUDs while she spoke and tossed her phone number as soon as I got back to my office.

I suppose the point is this: if you want to be friends with me, don't talk about IUDs. (Gosh, I sound like a prude.) Or maybe it's that I don't like being confronted. Or maybe it's that I'm the one who's nuts.

Currently reading :
50 Facts that Should Change the World
By Jessica Williams
Release date: 01 September, 2004