| all monsters and dust |
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"I never noticed you had a gap between your two front teeth before!" C. said to me yesterday. "It's very Madonna. I like it." "Uh..." I said, because no one has ever complemented the gap between my teeth before and I wasn't sure how to react. I am not really comfortable with complements to begin with, but when they are complements for things I really have no control over, well, it just seems kind of weird. I mean, it's like she is treating the gap between my teeth as some kind of aesthetic choice on my part. It's like she is saying, Oh! How rebellious and quirky of you not to have plain old regular teeth! Uh, thanks? Also, I have never been compared to Madonna. I... I just don't have the words.
Happy My Father's Sixtieth Birthday and Buy Nothing Day!
Basted In Blood. Happy American Thanksgiving!
I've always thought that wearing headphones was the international sign for don't talk to me -- am I wrong? -- so when people come up to me and try to ask me something even though I clearly can't hear them, I always assume, rather naively, and usually wrongly, that it is something important. Or else they wouldn't bother me. Because I am wearing headphones. If I was smart, I would just ignore them and keep walking. But I have a fault, which is that I like to give people directions when they are lost. It makes me feel good. I hate being lost myself and I don't want to be that bitch who just walks past the poor guy who is lost and looking for help. So, I stop walking, press stop on my walkman and say, "Pardon?" "Do you believe in God?" the relatively innocuous looking black man asks me in French. He is wearing a long coat and a red scarf. I hesitate, weighing all the possible responses I could give and the reaction they would invoke from him. I decide that "yes" is probably the safest answer. Sometimes they are just checking and will leave you alone if you only say "yes." I do not want to talk theology with some stranger in the subway. I do not want to talk to some stranger in the subway, period. Unless it is to give them directions. "Yes," I say and sigh loudly, to show that I am annoyed with the question. I press play on my walkman and walk hurriedly away. But the man follows me, still talking, although I can't make out most of what he says. I hear the word "Catholic" and it sounds like a question. Sure enough, the man is looking at me expectantly, while I avoid his gaze. He is matching me step for step. No, I tell him, I am not Catholic. He follows me onto the escalator, still talking. We stand there side by side. I am ignoring him, listening to my music, but there is a break between songs and I hear him say, "But God is coming. And I want to offer you an invitation. Does this interest you, an invitation?" "No," I say pointedly, shaking my head, looking away. The man turns away abruptly and runs down the escalator. I watch him go, his scarf flapping around him, feeling a little mean. When I get off the escalator I look around for him but he has disappeared. I am curious of what that invitation would have consisted. Also, I wonder if he was trying to convert me out of the goodness of his heart and his concern for my well-being, or because God rewards those who convert the most people? I wonder just when it is exactly that he thinks God is coming. The whole thing reminds me of the grandmother in White Teeth. Which reminds me of the Jehovas Witnesses who come around my parents house and ask for me by name even though I haven't lived there in years. Not that I ever talked to them when I did. Mostly I pretended not to be home when they came by or else pretended that I was the babysitter. No one knows how they got my name in the first place. My mother is relieved because now instead of talking to them she can just tell them that I am not home and they leave her some pamphlets for me. Then she calls me and says, "Guess who came by looking for you today?"
The Meatrix. "Psst. Leo." "Who are you? And how do you know my name?" "I am Moopheus. And I know a lot about you. Have you heard of the meatrix?"
Oh, thank jesus, the strike is over. I am so sleeping in tomorrow.
From the MoviePie review of The Cat in the Hat: It made my heart sad
Mac Eye For the Windows Guy
"I want to make it very clear that as Canadians, and despite what our stupid politicians say, we have nothing against the American people. We just feel that maybe a regime change is in order." -- Comedian Glen Foster, aka That Canadian Guy
Note to self: For your own good, please stop 1. reading (and then sort of believing) your horoscope; 2. buying clothes without trying them on first; 3. leaving things to boil over unattended on the stove.
The history behind our archaic punctuational conventions.
This is a public service announcement All this week CBC radio will be broadcasting Thomas King's Massey lectures. Weeknights at 9pm. You should listen. I went to the first one (which will be broadcast tomorrow, on monday) a few weeks ago and it was amazing and I am so excited to hear it again and to hear the four other ones this week! I know that these are busy times and you are probably thinking to yourself that there is no way you can fit this into your schedule but I guarantee that if you do you won't regret it. I also guarantee that they will be relevant to you, that you will find them interesting and moving and that listening will improve your overall quality of life. In short, listening to these lectures will be better for you than whatever else it was that you were planning to do with that hour. You can learn more about the lectures and Thomas King here. You can listen to cbc via the internet here. I have done everything I can. The rest is up to you. ps. you can also read the book, but it will not be as good.
What to do if your Mom discovers your blog...: "Blogger employees love their Moms as much as you do. We also strive to understand the needs and concerns of our users in these complex times. Be nice to your Mom and call her at least once a week. Take her out to lunch once in a while, show some respect. And most importantly, don't give her more to worry about than she already has -- if that means steering her gently away from your blog, so be it. We're here to help." Biz Stone offers some official Blogger advice in response to the Onion article.
Hey! What was that noise? Wait! There it is again! Yesterday I tried to roast garlic for the first time ever. The instructions I was following were kind of vague and no one told me that you have to poke holes in the cloves or else they will explode.
toma-nnibis would have been a much better idea Death by Tomato: "An Oregon scientist inspired by Homer Simpson has successfully created 'tomacco' -- a tomato plant that contains nicotine." There has never been a clearer case of "just because you can do something doesn't mean you should". What really gets me is the part about how "Mr. Baur is having a Dr. Frankenstein moment, noting that nicotine, when ingested orally, can be fatal to humans at levels higher than 150 milligrams. He fears his tomacco plant contains "multiple fatal doses." Frankenfuckingfoods is right. Now I have to worry about my food being genetically engineered to kill me? Stealth murder using vegetables sounds like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream.
this is your brain on drugs
me: are you taking anything for the pain? megan: just advil megan: i have some strong shit from the accident (s) but i don't dare me: i am in love with advil megan: with dayquil as well. i share your joy. me: the difference is that advil and i are in a committed relationship megan: oh so you are just cheating with dayquil???? how dare you? me: dayquil is just someone i have dalliances with once in a while megan: I thought you had higher standards. ugh, I am disgusted by you! me: listen baby, advil just can't give me everything i need all the time megan: i see, so you are high maitenance. hey, if advil gave you everything you needed you wouldn't have to go looking somewhere else. me: exactly megan: that's a CHEATER'S mentality me: i love them both though megan: just for different reasons me: i can't choose between them megan: sweeet marie! i never saw this side of you before. especially after all the talks we had. how quickly one can turn around! me: my throat hurts from laughing so hard. dayquil, where are you, baby? i need some of that action! megan: what about nyquil? you see, that's my secret lover. I can't live without that. what perfect nights as well with nyquil. me: nyquil and i hang out sometimes but i don't have the same feelings for it. megan: ohhhhhhh! I think nyquil is near orgasmic! what a nice drug. to be able to sleep when you are sick is so important too. me: yeah, exactly megan: how can you not like it? me: i don't dislike it, it just doesn't get me as excited. i guess because i am asleep. megan: hey, tell me the truth now : do you buy the actual vicks nyquil and dayquil, or do you buy no name or presidents choice me: actual megan: it's a rip off me: remember that generic shit i had though? it got you high but didn't help at all with the symptoms megan: oh right, it got you high. and addicted. the generic stuff here works well, though. me: no! not addicted! megan: RIGGHHHHTTT... me: just high enough that your runny nose doesn't bother you anymore megan: i see me: maybe there is some other generic stuff that would work but i'm just not about taking the risk, you know? i like what i've got going on. megan: you are stayin right where you are me: hey, i've got it pretty good megan: anyway, i need to call the doctor again i guess me: yeah, you do.
The coolest co-workers ever are the ones who are in circus school and whose girlfriends are Japanese trapeze artists.
From today's Onion: Mom Finds Out About Blog: "In a turn of events the 30-year-old characterized as "horrifying," Kevin Widmar announced Tuesday that his mother Lillian has discovered his weblog." Woman Mentally Breaks Up With Colin Farrell: "It got to where I couldn't fantasize about us being together without constantly wondering if he would run around on me," Lentz said. "If he's cheated on women before, I couldn't see why I'd be an exception. He's just not worth the heartache." The first time I read the Onion I didn't realize that it was satire and actually reported the "facts" of one of the articles to a friend of mine (do not judge me! I was young and innocent!). I eventually realized my error, but never confessed to my friend that what I told her was a lie. I totally remember which article it was, but I'm so not telling.
When does this ride end? I want to get off. I wrote a haiku about my life, ready? ROLLERCOASTER happy sad happy sad happy sad happy sad happy sad happy
a drunk/high on dayquil/rocking out employee is a happy and possibly productive employee
1. Forget what I said yesterday, the bleeding trees are back again this year. I don't know who thinks that they are attractive. Someone on city council has awful taste. The amount of electricity it must take to light up that god-awfully ugly street makes me cry. 2. I'm still sniffly. I went out with wet hair on the weekend, is why. Big. Mistake. It's nothing major, I just feel consistently below par. Today I thought about maybe buying some dayquil and I got way more excited that I should have. I love dayquil. It is like beautiful little globules of concentrated sunshine and makes you feel so, so good. I know I'm not alone on this. Dayquil deserves love from us all. Give me a break here, people, I don't even drink coffee on a regular basis. I don't even like wine. Let me have this one thing. Let me have dayquil. Stop looking at me like that. 3. Things at work have gotten a lot better since I realized that no one else really knows what's going on any more than I do. Today, M. encouraged me to listen to music while working. He said, and I quote, "Like alcohol, listening to music may dull your senses and decrease your attention to detail, but the soaring pleasure that you receive from it makes up for the deficits, I think. What? Why are you laughing? It's true. The enormous, intense pleasingness is well worth it."
Fall is my favourite season. And now it's over. I know it's not officially over, but when the temperature is consistently below freezing, it's time to give up and break out the winter coat. The fact that I have resisted this long has given me the sniffles. Winter is breaking down my defences.
the gift that keeps on giving
"Christmas decorations!" I shriek as we walk past the display window of a shop on St-Denis. "It's the first fucking week of November!" "I know," S. says. "It's starting." (It's true. Earlier that day I had noticed that the huge cone of lights is already up in Place Ville-Marie. No lights up on the trees on McGill College yet, but you can bet they are coming. I hope they don't use those weird red lights hanging in bunches off the tree branches again, like they did last year. "It looks like the trees are bleeding," I said to G. "It looks like snot," she said.") "That's why I like to do all my shopping in the summer," continues S. "They're not so much in your face about it then." "Oy," I say. "I guess that's something I have to start thinking about now. Christmas presents." "Do you give a lot of presents?" S. asks. "Well, Christmas is a big deal because it's the only time everyone in my family gives presents to each other," I tell her. Christmas is really Gift Day at our house. It involves a tree and coloured lights and mailboxes in which Santa leaves us letters, true, but mostly it is about giving and getting. My mother, who is Jewish, is in charge of Christmas at our house. It is a classic case of parents trying to give to their children the thing that they, as children, always wanted but never got. "But you give good presents, right? Not just crap." "We try to give good presents," I say. "Sometimes we give crap too, though, I guess." Thinking of the trinkets my evil step-grandmother used to send. "That's what I hate," she says. "People give each other so much crap." "Yeah," I agree. "It's pretty out of control." "It's disgusting! There's no reason for it!" She goes on for a bit. "It's so awful." "I know," I say. "So you've already figured out what you're giving everybody, then?" "Well, I'm going to give my mom a vibrator," she announces. "Really?" I say, impressed. "Awesome." "Yeah, well it's the gift that keeps on giving, right?"
Lost cat story not fabricated! News at 11! An actual news item I just heard on the radio that was unintentionally very funny (imagine it being read by a woman in a very serious newscaster voice): "Montreal police say the reported number of attempted child abductions has been greatly exaggerated. For example, the recent case of an eleven year old boy who was approached by a man in a truck who asked him to help look for his lost cat. A follow-up police investigation revealed that the man also asked several other people for help, and had, indeed, lost his cat."
Today's life lesson brought to you by toothpastefordinner: 
100 percent The rabbit made me laugh today: "Once, when I smaller, I went to a drug store that had a picture of the manager on the exit door, next to the words: 'Please don't leave until you're 100 percent satisfied!' I felt a little dissatisfied, so I walked back into the entrance and grabbed a family pack of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Then I drove back to work and ate half of them. This gave me a stomach ache."
Life is way intense, yo How can I feel so happy and so sad, so exhilarated and so scared, so inspired and so ambivalent all at the same time?
I am Canadian therefore I talk about the weather a lot It was snowing when I woke up this morning. First snow! Always surreal. I am trying to be positive, but I am still in denial that winter is coming. When I left work this evening it was freezing raining and everything was covered with ice. The forecast for tonight is ice pellets; tomorrow, rain. (Thursday sun, Friday rain, Saturday snow.) Right now there is fog. And light rainshower. Forget what I said about being positive. I am staying home tomorrow. And by home, I mean "in my bed."
Feliz Dia de los Muertos!
We celebrated this on Friday at the Chango Family Circus Carnaval de los Muertos. It was great. People were dressed in really amazing and creative costumes and the decor was also fantastic. There were, among other things, huge paper-mache skeletons hanging from the ceiling. The music was decent, but the best part of the evening was the circus sideshow that went on while the band was playing. Especially Spiderwoman.  Have you ever seen an act like this? It is so amazing. This woman climbs up these ropes and wraps them around her in various ways and just hangs there, with just the ropes holding her up. She moves around and does various poses, including the splits, and also hanging upside down with the ropes wrapped around her legs. It is terrifying to watch. At one point she lets herself fall and your heart leaps up into your throat, but at the last minute the ropes miraculously tighten into a knot that holds her, suspended just above the floor. And the crowd lets out its collective breath and cheers. It's just. Wow. You have to see it.  The pictures don't do it justice, really.
Hallowe'en satanic! News at 11!
Yesterday morning while walking to the metro I noticed several handmade posters stuck up on telephone poles and phone booths. I wish I had taken one so I could scan it for you, but they were all gone by the time I got home from work so you will just have to rely on my description. They were photocopies of an 8x10 on which someone had written in sloppy smushed up block lettered marker: MESSAGE IMPORTANT Maybe you had to see how badly done it was to find it as funny as I did. I was picturing someone going "Really? Halloween is satanic? Well if it says so on this sloppily written piece of paper stuck to a phone booth, it must be true. Guess I'll have to change my plans for tonight. Instead of giving candy to the adorably cute kids who ring my doorbell, I will sit alone in my living room in the dark and eat it all myself. Thanks Jesus!" Way to show us the light, random evangelical church!
knife sex simile
I just heard Katharine Monk reviewing The Human Stain on DNTO. She was complaining that Anthony Hopkins is horribly miscast and works miserably opposite Nicole Kidman, who is "pretty edgy herself." Then she said, "Watching the romance build between them is like watching two serrated knives get in on. Intellectually it works, but emotionally it is all wrong." Maybe my favourite simile ever.
In case you are like me and certain friends of mine who can remember the beginnings to many scary stories but none of the endings: The Man Who Was Hook: "Who doesn't know the one about the guy with a hook for a hand, slaughtering teenagers post-coitus?" New endings to the classic story.
Rabbit rabbit!
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