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in a sauce or in a cake or a german chocolate shake
"I used to think that mousse was an animal/ Rocky Road was just a rough place to ride/Black Forest was somewhere very far away/ and Chip was a good friend of mine..." -- First verse of "Chocolate", a song that we sang in EYS (the youth choir I was in.) (Yes, I was in a youth choir.)
Crap, I should really have given up chocolate for lent. But I didn't, because 1) I am not Catholic and thus have no reason to give up anything for lent; and 2) I don't even really like chocolate all that much and rarely eat it.
But, I forgot about Cadbury Creme Eggs. They are kind of disgustingly sweet, and get old very fast, but you have to have at least ONE every year. Last week I walked in to the pharmacy and they had a big Cadbury Creme Egg display and I immediately felt that craving. I had to have a Cadbury Creme Egg. But. There were no original Creme Eggs to be found anywhere! Only Truffle Eggs, Caramilk Eggs (which are extra disgusting, FYI), White Chocolat Eggs, and like, 5 others I don't remember because I didn't try them. But none with the white insides and the creepy yellow center made of pure liquid sugar.
Almost every day since that day I have had a craving for a Cadbury Creme Eggs, and gone to the pharmacy, and left with some other form of chocolate. Because, no Cadbury Creme Eggs. And, once you have a craving for chocolate, it doesn't go away. And, I don't even really like chocolate!
Did I mention I had a BIG zit on my chin in my work photo?
I feel disgusting, but it's like I can't stop with the chocolate until I find that Cadbury Creme Egg that truly satisfies my fix. Today, while I was eating chocolate, I started craving cauliflower. The madness must end!
under the weather
Maybe it's the yo-yo in temperature, maybe it's that I'm burnt out and hate the month of March, but there is no denying that I'm sick. I feel like someone scrubbed my face with sandpaper and crammed my head full of wet paper towels. Also, it looks like either someone punched me in both eyes or I have not slept in days. Today at work I had to get my picture taken for god knows what reason. That picture will now be viewable to company employees worldwide. And also, possibly, clients. Rock! Excuse me, I need to go hibernate somewhere.
John K. Samson on the subject of cities in last week's edition of Halifax's The Coast:
“I love the intensity, the pitch, the high pitch of cities,” Samson says. “The density and sheer humanity of it all: I like how people are thrown together and forced to live together. That’s exciting to me. Every city has these wonderful, specific quirks about them. I love finding what’s totally original about a city.”
“Cities are a perfect metaphor for larger society. They’re a perfect instrument to think about politics. They have all the greatness and horrors of humans living together,” Samson says. “Thinking about the problems of cities is, to me, a handy way of thinking about bigger problems. Thinking about them on the scale of the street you live on is an easier way to get a handle on them.”
“Alienation has been a main theme of mine forever,” he says, “people trying to communicate with each other is a daunting task in a capitalist society. Music is something that can assist with that.”
i (heart) lists*
I added some songs to the list of songs containing overt reference to real musicians and the list of songs with the name of a musical act in their title on Wikipedia.
The songs I came up with off the top of my head were:
"Fan Letter to Michael Jackson" by the Rheostatics
"Frank Sinatra" and "Meanwhile, Rick James..." by Cake
"Talkin' Woody, Bob, Bruce & Dan Blues" by Dan Bern
and "Two Hearts" by Danny Michel.
*Someone make me this t-shirt right away.
he has lost all his fingers and some of his toes to frostbite
"Mr. Gonsoulin didn't really know that there was any place on Earth that could be so cold and so inhospitable." A man from Los Angeles snuck into Canada to try and meet his internet girlfriend, who lives in Quebec. He was found wandering around a golf course in Manitoba, suffering from hypothermia; but claims it was still totally worth it.
stir crazy
I rearranged my furniture this weekend, but it didn't work. And by "work" I mean "make me feel better." I felt great while I was doing it, but I worked myself up into this frenzy where I just couldn't stop and wanted to move everything. When I ran out of furniture I rearranged the kitchen cupboards. Finally I hit a wall and fell asleep. When I woke up I felt very disoriented and confused. I keep reaching for things and finding they are not there. There are lentils where the glasses used to be, for example, and it's unsettling. I don't know whether to leave it and try to adjust, or move it all back to the way that it was. I don't like either option very much.
I have March-cabin-fever. It seems like everyone I know is moving to Mexico; meanwhile, here we are in the middle of a huge blizzard. Plus I just discovered that owe a little over two thousand dollars in taxes, which is about eighteen hundred more than I have in the bank. Needless to say, I am depressed. Mainly I just dream about living in this house. And about getting a dog. Oh and if the house could be on an island, that would be great. And if the dog could be the reincarnation of my dead dog, Sugar, that would too.
Speaking of depressing things I did this weekend: Secret Window. Now, normally I would not deliberately go out and rent a movie that everyone (with the exeption of my sister, who is in love with Johnny Depp, since she got to meet him while he was filming this movie) had told me was terrible, but who can resist seeing their hometown on film? It turned out that 2 out of the 4 scenes shot there were cut out of the final picture, but it was still kind of cool to see Captain Jack Sparrow himself in the general store that I have been going to all my life. Also, I wouldn't mind living in that awesome (to me) lakefront house. (I am kind of obsessed with houses lately.) Terrible movie, though. I highly do not recommend it.
overheard (where else?) on the 80
Two female passengers:
"He retired."
"He bought a house. I don't know how you can retire from buying a house, unless you sell it."
The driver:
"Next stop: Van Horne. Et en francais, c'est 'camion klaxon'."
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