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associated with raw potatoes and damp hummus
Some "food researchers" have created a dictionary that describes the tastes of different types of cheese. I find it strange that they are from Kansas and not Wisconsin. Also, they make cheese sound really disgusting.
Unrelated to cheese, someone pointed out to me this week that the taps on the sinks in the office washroom are reversed. Cold water comes out of the red tap on the left and hot water from the blue tap on the right. I have been using these taps for almost a year and had never figured this out. I just thought the hot water took a really long time to warm up.
This week started off totally awesome and ended up really crap, with a near total meltdown I won't get into and then coming home to find someone has stolen my recycling bin. Again. What the FUCK, neighbours?
I need a spring break, but I can't afford one.
i can't stop watching
Jack Johnson's new music video
The new trailer for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
pensively delirious
I have slept about 3 hours a night for the past 3 nights. Either I am secretly very stressed about something or I have developed sleep apnea or I need a new bed because this one is falling apart and uncomfortable. Or possibly all three.
This morning I got up and showered at 5AM. Because I was awake. And I didn't feel like getting up to do the dishes (which are still dirty as of this writing). And I didn't feel like lying in bed for another hour worrying about how I wasn't sleeping. Then I sat around until 6:30 debating whether to go back to bed or get dressed and go to work. I opted for work. The sun was not up yet when I got to work at 7AM. I was the only person in the whole office for two hours. (Please note I usually get there around noon. And, in fact, the day before I worked from noon until 8PM, which means that I was back at the office only 11 hours after I left.) It was the most incredibly surreal day I've had in a long time. Being awake at 7AM feels to me like being stoned. I kept having weird food cravings like fake turkey and lettuce sandwiches, and black cherry chocolate chip ice cream and sushi. Oh and sour cream and onion chips, WHICH I DON'T EVEN LIKE. Being awake and at work at 7AM feels like what I imagine it would feel like to take some harder drug, like maybe PCP, but I wouldn't really know first hand.
During the three hours of sleep that I got I dreamed I was grocery shopping and thinking up a plan on how to sneak out of the grocery store without paying. The plan involved spilling something to create a diversion, I think. Anyway, I never got around to going through with the plan, because I left my shopping cart to look for something and when I came back, MY BABY WAS GONE. Oh, you didn't know I had a baby? Neither did I, until the point in the dream when it went missing. And I was confused for a second, but then it was clear to me that the baby was my mother's (which would not be physically possible, unless it was adopted, which in the dream it was not, but this explanation nevertheless satisfied me in the dream, even though it actually makes even less sense than me having a baby I didn't know about.) Then I had a big hysterical fit in the middle of the grocery store and had to be restrained. Then I woke up and it was 4AM and I lay there for an hour trying to understand my dream logic about the baby situation before I gave up and decided to get up and shower.
After work I came home and ate some fake turkey and chips and watched some TV, which was, unfortunately, some Dr. Phil pre-marital bootcamp bullshit. There was a young couple on who had decided not to have sex until after they were married and I fell asleep thinking about how it would be a much better show if Dr. Phil had forced them to just have sex already, or at least taught them about masturbation, or, you know, done anything remotely helpful, instead of timing how long it took them to properly assemble a crib, and I woke up a few hours later feeling extremely sick to my stomach. Probably because of the chips.
And now it's 2AM once more and so I'm off to bed again to stare at the clock and pray that tomorrow is nothing like today.
[Although that segment of the Daily Show I just watched about the whole bloggers breaking news about fake journalist internet pornstar later reported on CNN scandal was possibly my favourite ever and almost makes this day feel worth it. You give a little (sanity), you get a little (humour). Thanks, Stephen Colbert.]
the day most couples break up due to unrealistic expectations
In my defence, I wear a lot of red most days:
S.: [surveying my backpack, my scarf, my shirt, and the kerchief on my head] Wow, you've got a lot of red going on today.
Me: Well it IS Valentine's Day.
S.: Ohhh, right. [rolls her eyes in disgust. Then notices her own shirt, which I am staring at.] Shit! I'm wearing red too! I HATE being a conformist! This sucks!
On the 80 bus:
Gay man on cell phone: "Well, I'm just heading home now to pick up my bouquet. I've gotten three messages today telling me that a beautiful floral arrangement was delivered and is waiting for me at home. I know! I hope it's not some psycho." [He then went on a long gossipy rant about how his friend -- whose full name he spoke loudly enough so that the whole bus could hear it -- is back with that guy he knows is bad for him.]
Chic woman on cell phone: [freaking out] "How can there not be theme colours for a bridal shower?! What are we going to do?!"
College girl, to her friend: "Can you believe how they were all just like, 'Do you have any plans for tonight?!' Like, HELLO! It's Valentine's Day! Do you think that he thinks that she's his girlfriend, but she doesn't? Or vice versa?"
Friend: "Well, he did introduce her as his girlfriend."
Girl: "I know! What's up with that?"
People of the world: seriously. Chill the fuck out. I am developing a face twitch.
it's not a choice for penguins either
Dan comments on this article, about a German zoo that imported some gay Swedish penguins and is trying to break up the same sex partnerships and convert the penguins to straightness:
[The director of the zoo] said that the birds had been mating for years and one couple even adopted a stone that they protected like an egg. Didn't this break your heart just a little? I think I'll expand on the concept when I pitch the upcoming children's book Heather the Zoo Stone has Two Penguin Mommies. Does it call one "Mom" and the other one "Mommy"? In either case...sssssssh, the baby penguin rock is sleeeeeping!
Awww, I love penguins. And also, ha! Also also, I don't get it. Are they hoping the penguins are bisexual and promiscuous? I don't like that the zoo has no qualms about being a penguin-homewrecker.
speaking of crack...
Isn't it funny when you are all "What? Is this person on crack?" and then it turns out that, in fact, yes, yes they are? It is right? Except when it's not. Not that this has ever happened to me.
A long time ago, though, I was friends with this girl who was an only child and extremely spoiled. Behind her back, the rest of our group used to joke maliciously about how her parents shouldn't have been able to afford all the expensive stuff they gave her, and must have been dealing drugs on the side to pay for it all. Of course, we were just jealous, and talking trash about our friend to make ourselves feel better.
After we had grown up and gone our separate ways, however, I heard through the grapevine that her father had been arrested and they had seized marijuana plants growing in the field behind their house.
Coincidence? Or extremely accurate intuition slash possible psychic powers?
yawn
Kind of a boring and patronizing article in the New York Times, proclaiming Montreal as the "it" music scene of the moment. The Plateau hasn't been gentrified? Are you on crack?
i am also descended from endentured servants
"Genealogists have recently traced a bloodline dating back 32 generations from George W. Bush to Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster, one of the four provinces of Ireland. Now let's be clear about one thing to begin with - we are not at all anxious to claim George as Irish and we certainly don't want him claiming his rightful throne in four years' time. You are welcome to him! We are free enough, thank you very much." It turns out we are all probably descended from royalty.
the camel's nose
Today I walked passed a man peeing on the sidewalk in front of an elementary school across the street from a church. My neighbourhood has gone from Semi-Sketchy to Crackton Ghetto in less than 24 hours.
just another day in park x
My dad was flying to Toronto for the weekend so he offered to let me have his car. I was excited because it meant that I could drive all 7 loads of laundry to the laudromat, instead of making 4 trips on foot. That's when I realized I have become the most boring person ever. I also used the car to go shopping, and I bought a kneel-chair and an air purifier. Which: boring and boring. (Although honestly I am very excited about the chair. Which I am sitting in now. And which is lovely.)
I was late picking my dad up from the airport today because someone blocked the car in in the alley behind the laundromat, but luckily his plane was late too, so I was right on time. We stopped at the laundromat on the way back to my apartment and picked up my 7 loads of laundry, which were mostly dry, and then he came in and I made him some tea and we talked about arguments to counter the arguments against equal marriage. And then he left to go home.
And then 5 minutes later he knocked on my door and said he had a bit of a problem: his suitcase was no longer in the car. His guitar was. And his backpack was. But his suitcase had disappeared. Probably stolen in the alley by the laudromat earlier, and we hadn't noticed. We went back to the laundromat, but of course it wasn't there. I felt super guilty for not reminding my dad to lock the car, because I know that he never ever does. Because he lives in a small town where people don't steal cars. I usually bug him about it and he acts all put-upon. But this time I forgot, because I was thinking about the joy of having no dirty laundry.
Speaking of which, the suitcase had nothing in it of value other than my dad's dirty laundry. Somehow this made the crime even more frustrating. Why steal something that was of no value to anyone but my dad? Why steal the suitcase but leave the guitar? My dad wanted me to call the police, but I was all, Pshhh. It's just a suitcase and some dirty clothes. Fat chance that'll turn up anywhere. (Plus I do not like dealing with the police.) I told him where the police station was, in case he wanted to go himself.
An hour later, I was on the phone with my sister, telling her the whole saga, (my sister bought a goldfish yesterday and named it Marmalade, which is probably the best name for a goldfish ever. Also, next week is Carnaval*), when there was another knock on my door. It was my dad. Again. Saying he'd found his suitcase. Where?! I asked him. Oh, he said nonchalantly, in the basement of an apartment building a few blocks over.
The landlord of the building had seen someone run in which a suitcase, go through it quickly, and run away without it, so he'd called the police. So my dad was reunited with his new jeans and his favourite slippers. Yay, a happy - yet extremely random - ending! Frankly, I think it is weirder and more disturbing that he found his stuff again than that it was stolen.
Anyway, since we all know I like to find the moral to every story, the lessons to be learned from today are as follows: 1. My dad has unbelievable karma. 2. Never leave your car doors unlocked in the city. Especially in an alley, in a poor neighbourhood, at night. 3. Sometimes the police are useful, so it is maybe a good idea to get over your hatred and fear of them. Because if that had been my suitcase I would never have gotten it back.
* This will probably be interesting only to readers who went to my high school: They have all these weird new events at Winter Carnaval now. Like, a lip synching competition (which my sister is doing), and a puzzle making competition (???), and what my sister referred to as "a wigger dance-off." And ice carving, I think! AND SLEIGH-RIDES! WITH HORSES! And other activities I've forgotten. Plus all the good old stuff that we used to do too, like broomball and wheelbarrow races and tug of war. Ooh, I forgot to ask if they still do that weird lumberjack competition. For someone who mostly hated high school, and almost never participated in any carnaval events, I sure am feeling nostalgic right now. And shafted.
the friend he was telling didn't get why this was funny
Overheard (in French) on the 80 bus: "Well, there were 2 different versions of the exam, right? Exam A and Exam B. And I had Exam A but everyone around me had Exam B. So I said to the guy sitting next to me, "I'll give you my Exam A and you give me your Exam B and then we can cheat." So we switched and I copied off the guy sitting on the other side of me. But the guy I switched with, he copied off me!"
please please please please please
[via yda]
The Canadian federal government introduced the Civil Marriage Act to Parliament today.
Find out where your MP stands on the issue of equal marriage. Just enter in your postal code there, and it will tell you. It even provides an email for you to send to your MP! What could be easier? (If you live in Quebec, the French version is here.)
If your MP is against, please write him/her a letter expressing that YOU are in favour, and urge him/her to vote along the side of basic human rights for everyone.
If your MP is in favour, write him/her an email thanking him/her for her stance, and wishing him/her good luck in the vote!
PLEASE do this! We have to pass this bill. Please please. If I can write to Pierre Fucking Pettigrew, whom I loathe and despise, (but who publicly supports equal marriage! Yay!) then you can easily do this too. I also wrote to France Bonsant, the MP for Compton-Stanstead, who had not yet publicly declared her position on equal marriage, and got an email back from her right away saying she plans to vote for the bill. So if you live in Compton-Stanstead, write to tell her you support her on this issue!
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