Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Give Me Strength.

I’m going to Toronto tomorrow. My Aunt and Uncle are going up, so I’m catching a ride. I’ll spend a couple of days in the city with Marianne, and then catch a train or a bus back to Ottawa, since Jacky and Wendell don’t know how long they’re going to be in Toronto.

So… an election, eh? The politicians will soon be out kissing hands and shaking babies. Well, all I know is, I want to get out of Ottawa. I mean, this place is already politics-centric, but I think this is going to be a nasty, mud-slinging campaign, and I don’t need to see that. Last night, I sat and watched the government fall with Uncle Wendell and I earned tons of brownie points for my show of patience. He’s very opinionated and bombastic and abusive, but also very clever, so it’s difficult to have a reasonable conversation with him. I think I’m going to follow my Aunt Jacky’s lead and just not engage in discussions with him.

In my hypothetical trial, though, I think the jury would have found the attack just when they find out that my Uncle chose to attack one of my husbands, George Stroumboulopoulos. He called him a left-wing communist. I’m taking deep breaths, I’m serious. I’m so sick of the CBC being accused of being at least small-L liberal, if not forming an outright cabal with Paul Martin, Dr. Henry Morgentaler, and Larry Flint.

I have decided, though, that this is going to be my last mention of politics during the campaign.

No – let me say this: I really hope this doesn’t turn into an American-style campaign, replete with negative advertising. Concentrating on the negative aspects of an opponent is not the same as flaunting one’s own positive attributes. It’s cheap and offensive, in my mind. It tells me that the politicians do not think the voters can make up their own minds regarding the platforms and precedents of all involved, but we can be spooked and manipulated into voting a certain way. Negative ads only appeal to voters who don’t give themselves enough credit to trust their own intelligence, and it insinuates that the parties think the voters are dim and impressionable. Maybe some are. Maybe most are.

Ok, now no more politics. Lots more Stroumbo, though.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Makin' Babies.

I have no idea how to make this entertaining or creative, so I might as well blurt. My good friend Lisa is baking a baby in her tummy, right now. Right now, people! Do you know what this means? Well, here’s a list of what it means to me:

1) From now on, you all must call me Auntie Cate.
2) I have to learn how to play. Like, with kids. (I do maintain that "Chainsaw Race" is great fun.)
3) I have to ensure this child grows up knowing more/better music than Velvet Revolver.
4) Does Lisa have a parasite? I mean, technically? It’s not symbiotic!
5) I have to stock up on mints and gum for my purse.
6) Auntie Cate! Auntie Cate!
7) Note to self: read up on stem cell technology.
8) I have to make sure there’s a picture of me with Lisa when she’s as big as a house. Um, for posterity. Not to make me seem skinny. No.
9) Even though she's the best at it over all my friends, no kegstands this Christmas. Sigh.
10) I have to get a stronger gag reflex. Baby poop is no laughing matter.
11) My best friends are procreating. Surprisingly, instead of making me spiral into self-analysis, I’m really stoked and proud. And nervous, too, but mostly proud.

Sticks and Stones.

Last night Anna and her man, Nico, invited me to go curling with some of his friends. Anna’s in town on a little visit, and she’ll be back in Ottawa again for Christmas.

I don’t think I’ve curled in at least two years – certainly since I started my MA – and I haven’t curled on a regular basis since grade seven or eight. So, packing tape on shoes and obligatory wooly sweater in tow, I pushed off on those pebbles again, ready to do my country proud.

I was pleased that it was a bit like riding a bike. The hack was a cozy little perch, and I loved looking down the ice from that low perspective. I always remember enjoying sweeping, but damn! I don’t remember having to go that fast! And the coordination involved with pushing, sliding, sweeping, watching, not burning stones in the house, and reading the ice and speed of the stone was a brain overload challenge that I was totally up for. If we were there for another eight hours I still wouldn’t have that all balanced. Still, a lot of it was familiar, especially with Anna’s help. (Except for the whole inturn/outtrurn thing. I know I used to know how to do it properly, but I kept second-guessing myself so every time I thought I had it right, it was actually wrong.)

Nico’s friends were great. They’re all French nationals, so the curling was a great slice of Canadiana. The big burn was, they did very well. I call it beginner’s luck. Nico was telling Anna and I about the French Curling Team and said they were not the pride of the nation. (Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme! Get on up, c’est curling time!)

And no, I did not break my bones. I’m a little stiff, yes, but I can’t believe I didn’t even fall once! That’s a long way down!

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Long, Long, Long.

cranberry sauce

Last night my cousin Kristina and I went to "Rain," that group doing the Beatles. I’m hesitant to call them a cover band, because it was so darn good and "cover band" usually means slightly sad men dressed in spandex singing "Paradise City."

They chronologically went through the Beatles’ catalogue, changing costumes as they went. They came out first with the matching mop-tops and stove-pipe trousers, and sang great early three-chord classics like "Hard Day’s Night" and "This Boy," and surprisingly launching into "Twist and Shout," which I think was ballsy considering that song tore John’s vocal chords to ribbons when they recorded it in one take at the end of a long one-day recording session of Please Please Me (Feb 11, 1963).

There was a short interlude on three big video screens for a few minutes and they returned to the stage four years down the road in full Sgt. Pepper regalia, that is, bright satin military-like uniforms, mustaches, and the George even had a matching tricorn with a huge feather. Excellent. They did the title track of that album (and later, the reprise of the same), "With a Little Help From My Friends," and "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds," which is not one of my favourite Beatles songs.

While the band was playing, there were images being shown on the video screens that were contemporary to the music being performed at that moment. So, at the beginning, there were promotional posters displayed from the Cavern Club, and mentioning the Mersey and skiffle and Gerry and Pacemakers. The difference was, all the pictures were referring to Rain and not the Beatles, and the cover band’s pictures were superimposed where the Beatles once appeared, in the same poses, clothes and lighting. It was fantastic to see. I’ve always wanted to re-enact that great high-contrast photo from the cover of Meet the Beatles (see above).

After the intermission they came out wearing basically what they were wearing on the cover of Abbey Road. The hair got longer, except for the Paul, being the clean-cut boy he was, and it also got a little more surreal. I say this because the music from the era that they were representing was rarely performed live. The Beatles had stopped touring at this point, and the music became more engineered. [There is one exception to this that comes to mind, of course, and it was cool to see – Rain had re-enacted the roof-top concert at the beginning of 1969 and it played on the video screens while they performed "Get Back." Cool stuff.] Anyhow, with the music getting more and more engineered, all of re-produced George Martin orchestrations were piped in, and were too loud and didn’t really capture the tightness of their later producer’s dedication to perfection. (George Martin was a musical genius. No arguments ever on that comment.)

For the "encore," strangely, the John sang "Imagine" (which I thought was a little anachronistic), "Let It Be," and, of course, "Hey Jude." I put encore in quotes because I hate them – they’re bullshit – both the audience and the performers know they’re going to come out again. They’re fabricated and built into the act to stimulate a frenzy. But it's a half-hearted, simulated frenzy! All spontaneity is lost to the ages. But I digress.

Overall: Excellent. I liked the early Beatles stuff they did better, not necessarily because I like that material more, but there was more of a frame of reference. I could compare the little things to early performances. The Rain boys had the formula down: the song ends, there’s a beat, they hinge at the waist, and go into the next song. No patter, very quick changes. This wasn’t because Rain was afraid they couldn’t pull off the Liverpudlian accents (which they could), but in early performances, this is exactly how the Beatles performed: get on the stage, try to hear yourself over the screams, play, get off the stage, get paid.

The Paul was the best. I don’t know how he did it, but he had the round, cute face and high cheekbones. Luck, I hope. He did the voice very well: smooth, but I couldn’t hear enough of the accent through the lyrics. That’s not that big a complaint. He had the little body movements down to a T, as well. I wish wish wish he would have learned to play his bass with his right hand like McCartney did; the symmetry was off when the Paul and the George sang at the same mic.

The John was good, too, vocally. He definitely had the nasalness down, and the way John intonated (cough), but I could have heard a little more scratchiness. That rasp is probably pretty difficult to replicate night after night, though, so I’ll let it go.

The George was mind-blowing on guitar, as well he should have been. (He played the solo to "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and the audience crapped their pants because he wailed on it, but the irony is, Eric Clapton played the solo in the album recording, so I guess that speaks to how good the George was, if anything, because playing as well as Harrison is one thing, but as good as Clapton? Come on!) His voice was good too, but it didn’t have the understated sweetness of the original. And, um... I think they gave him prosthetic eyebrows.

The Ringo was great. Some might say it’s easy to replicate Ringo’s drumming because he had such an uncomplicated style, but it was that economy that makes him exceptional. Just listen for this next time you hear the Beatles – if he were going all "Hawaii 5-0" on us, the entire tone of the music would be different. (Homework on this subject: listen to "Tomorrow Never Knows," from Revolver, paying close attention to the drumming.) Mercifully, the Ringo only sang one song, and aptly, it was "With a Little Help From My Friends," and yes, it was perfectly out of tune (i.e. just enough to notice).

Yoko did not report.

My only complaint was the crap reproduced orchestrations that were poorly mixed (especially for "Strawberry Fields Forever"), and the giant distracting video screens. The video really took my attention off the band, which maybe was by design (to take the heat off), but I would have used them more sparingly.

So, finally, big thanks to Cousin Kris for the free tickets. I really love the Beatles, and don’t be fooled by my OCD review picking apart this group, because it was really excellent, but I’m a giant geek.

P.S. Last night they played "Blackbird." Can any of my friends from high school remember sitting and lying around Jon MacInnis' basement like it was a harem, listening to Jeremy Hickey playing this song for us? I distinctly remember that night and how impressed I was by Jem's talent. That's a good memory to have etched in your mind, eh? There's a Paul McCartney song from his Flaming Pie album called "The Songs We Were Singing" that I always remember. It claims: "Talk about a range of subjects/Anything you like,/But we always come back to the songs we were singing/At any particular time."

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

I Want To Be The CBC's Rick The Temp!

Do we all remember Rick Campanelli's rise to the position of VJ on Much Music? He hung around the CHUM building so much and took any shitty job he could just because he loved the place so much. Eventually, his perseverance paid off and he got his dream job: VJ on the Nation's Music Station. Me talking about Much is another rant, because I think there are some problems there, probably mostly related to me growing up and not caring how hott Usher is anymore.

Anyhow, I'm having difficulties even getting into the CBC to do the shitty work to prove I'm awesome and I should do something more creatively! I just submitted my tenth application for a job at the Ceeb. Tenth! If this was any other kind of service, I'd have my card stamped for the tenth time and get a job for free! I think I have to bite the bullet and think about more schooling. I want to work at the CBC, and I can do it now, but if they won't even look at me without certain credentials on my CV, I might have to go back to school. It's very frustrating, and I feel like I'm so done of school for now! Maybe it's a different kind of schooling that I need to re-invigorate myself. Radio programming. That's what I need.

Please, anyone who has any kind of ties to the Ceeb, let them know I'm awesome and keen and ready and willing to please! Or, ask them what is the exact perfect kind of schooling is to get me a job as a programmer on a great CBC radio show.

I'm not begging yet. Maybe that's at the 20 application mark.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Let's Get Crack-a-Lackin!

I spent the weekend at Marilyn's again, helping her do research at the National Archives. It's really cool there - there are records of everything! There's a huge genealogy section, and a philately section, too! Marilyn is working on a paper about Canadian Mennonites and their role as conscientious objectors in the second World War. She found a load of letters written from Mennonites asking about their rights and the responses from the government departments. The government was surprisingly sensitive to their belief systems.

On Saturday I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the first time (there will be more). I was fair apoplectic beforehand, and Melanie was my calm and understanding date. (It had to be with a Confed. Centre girl, you know?) I really enjoyed this movie. There were no house elves, no SPEW, and Cedric Diggory was prefectly cast (i.e. too pretty for words). It was sad and scary and funny and I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I will be marrying Daniel Radcliffe and I don't care how society shuns us, we're in love and we don't care what people think.

Finally: Beware President's Choice brand Fat-Free Chocolate Gelato. It's dark and thick like fudge and pretty darn good, but if you eat more than 1/2 a cup, it sits at the bottom of your stomach like a brick. Could it be the three different types of "gum" listed in the ingredients? Perhaps.

Thursday, November 17, 2005


More Winter Songs that need lovin' at times other than Christmas:

Exhibit E: "Winter Wonderland" Another great song that can swing. Harry Connick, Jr.'s version is the best. He swings it. Mmmm... Harry Connick, Jr. ...

Exhibit D: "Sleighride" Oh this song is effing fun. Effing fun, people. It reminds me of waiting to get into the change room after working a show at the Confederation Centre, holding all the keys and jingling them. Oh, the good times we all miss out on when we don't study percussion. My life has been a waste.

I think this discussion has turned into a trivia game, really. This summer, Mike, Jackie and I had a brief game of "Name a song that's title does not appear in the lyrics," i.e. "Bohemian Rhapsody" or "Baba O'Reilly." Try to get a dozen - it's difficult and fun. Your mission, should you choose to accept it: find a less cumbersome title for this game.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Stop, Collaborate And Listen.

People, let's take a breather here, shall we? I made a list of songs that should be appreciated not just in the Christmas season, but also all winter, ideally, all year long.

I know I love Christmas music. I've tried to examine it, but it really doesn't go beyond they're catchy and fun and historical and they get me all nostalgic.

I think the main problem people have with Christmas music is its concentration. From about now-ish to the 25th of December, the air is saturated with Christmas music and the only reason it's not supersaturated is the chill in the air!

Think of a song that you're fairly fond of. I'd say, not your favourite song, but one you are familiar with and know the lyrics. I know that any song I have an affinity for would start to grate on my nerves after listening to it ad nauseum for 6 weeks.

And yes, the music so often confused with Christmas music, "winter music," we'll call it, should be appreciated at other times.

Like the arrival of Christmas lights, Christmas music has come to symbolise all that is crap about this holiday: being desperately trapped in a busy mall, or the vapid consumerism of television ads*, or, shudder, carollers... urk. It's the saccharine sentiment cloaking business' anticipated money windfall/hard-on. Yeah, buy that Furby for the kid. I guarantee he will break it or forget about it by Groundhog Day. Pointless. (Holy crap - I'm turning into the aunt that only gives tube socks for Christmas...) {Side thought - wouldn't it be great if we could register for Christmas gifts like some people register for wedding gifts?}

In conclusion, I contend that it is not the music to blame but its saturation.

*I wrote the whole "Winter Music Rant" after seeing an ad for a cellphone/MP3 player. People everywhere are walking around city streets on a snowy night with their shiny new phones/MP3 players singing the same song: "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow." I love that ad. Enjoying yourself enough to sing aloud, by yourself, in public? Priceless.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


IMDB is reporting that Fox has scaled back its episode order for Arrested Development, one of my favourite shows! Scaled back from the original order of 22 episodes to the pathetic half-season of 13, IMDB tells us that this is a sure sign of the show being cancelled. Why? Fox is putting all its eggs in the "Prison Break" basket, catering to the coveted redneck demographic which likes crim’nuls, ‘splosions, and cops gettin’ beat up. What about people who walk without dragging their knuckles? How many awards does this show have to win before the Fox executives get their heads out of their asses? On the season 2 DVD, David Cross raves animatedly (and, in earnest, which we know is out of character for him) about how Fox effed up the marketing for the show and no matter how stellar it is, it won’t get anywhere if Fox does not carry its weight.

(Sure, the current "Wee Britain" thing is a little tedious, but it'll soon be over - just wait it out!)

The Jackpot Question in Advance.

Most people know I love Christmas music, and by Christmas music, I mean music usually played leading up to Christmas. My beef is: some music is played exclusively in November and December but has nothing to do with Christmas, but perhaps, more broadly, winter.

Exhibit A: "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow" This is a sweet, romantic song. It’s intimate and a little wistful. I love it. The point is: does it only snow in the 6 weeks leading up to Christmas? Certainly not! Couples could be "still goodbying" on a snowy night in April!

Exhibit B: "Baby, It’s Cold Outside" Have you heard the Louis Armstrong and Velma Middleton version? It’s the touchstone – the starting point, in my mind. All other versions are compared to this rendering. It’s perfect. Whimsical and horny – what a great combination! This, in my mind, should go down as one of the great duets in popular music. Tom Jones covered it on his album with Catatonia frontgirl/woman Cerys on his 2000 album "Reload" (it was in the 2 for £22 bin!). Mike told me he thought it was too smarmy. (And he calls me a prude!)

Exhibit C: "Fairytale of New York" Yes, this song takes place on Christmas Eve, but beyond that, it captures as much holiday spirit as Lethal Weapon. What it really is about is an abusive, dysfunctional, and drug-addled relationship. This drunk-tank argument is not the first or last for this couple. "You’re a bum, you’re a punk, you’re a old slut on junk." Hardly speaks to praising a virgin birth or messianic revelations, eh?

Finally, and my favourite,

Exhibit D: "What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?" This is another romantic song, and I’ve had fantasies about it for years. It involves a close dance with my sweetheart, usually at a warm summer wedding. We lazily dance at the end of the night and my beau (yeah, I said it, beau!) starting to softly sing this song in my ear. Melt! For a long time I wanted to incorporate this scene into my rom-com blockbuster screenplay, but as it’s not materializing at a pace I would like, I might as well illustrate my point with it.

My point: some songs are sadly relegated to 2-month play when there is no reason. Fight back! Defy the system! Enjoy these songs all year ‘round. They’re so great, you’ll thank me.


Ok, so it’s snowing. Not flurries like last week, but snow propre. All the Kanata cookie-cutter rooftops are white, and the grass is still green, but it’s now contrasted with a white background. When I walked by the window this morning (8am!*), I said, "oh!" and stopped walking. The romance of a first snowfall! It’s so Canadian! It’s the country going into dormancy for a season! Skating, skiing, angels and forts in snowbanks! Wee!

That rush of joyous emotion lasted 2 seconds, and then the mope started. It’s so effing cold! The chill gets under my skin! My hair gets messed up! I have to wear socks! Whinge, whinge, whinge! One good thing: Christmastime! I’m not that fond of any aspect of Christmas besides seeing my family and all the great music. I love Christmas music all year ‘round. I love hymns, commercial stuff, secular, religious, it’s just all so much fun! To come: a rant on some seasonal music.

*I applied for a great internship today. It’s at the CBC, which all my friends and/or readers know, is the Mecca of work for me. I saw the opportunity a month ago and got discouraged thinking about how many others would be applying, but then I realized that had a shot, and everyone always tells me I would kick ass at the Ceeb, so I couldn’t pass on a chance to get my foot in the door.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Cold Weather Comfort.

Every year I forget how much I hate the cold. It's like an icy poker of sorrow jammed in my side.

Take comfort in deliciousness. Here, in my great legacy of providing my readers with recipes, is my All-Time Favourite Cookie, from the love and kitchen of my Mum:

Pumpkin Cookies.

4 cup flour
2 cup rolled oats
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp pumpkin spices (if pumpkin is pure)
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cup margarine
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
2 cup puree pumpkin
1 cup chocolate chips or raisins

Preheat oven to 350. Combine 1st 6 ingredients and set aside. Cream margarine, gradually add sugars, beating til light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla, mix well. Alternate dry ingredients and pumpkin, mixing well after each addition. Stir in choc. chips/raisins.

Bake 350 degrees 20 minutes. Makes a huge batch, and they are great for freezing. Enjoy!

Friday, November 11, 2005

Wanted: A Superlative

Sometimes the English language fails us. It's evolving and changing all the time to accomodate this, but still I find there are gaps. When was the last time you were so sorry and all you could say was "sorry" because there's nothing else to say? I've had that problem more than once.

Today, I have no superlative for the word "proud." Marilyn and I went up to the National War Cenotaph for the Remembrance Day ceremonies. There were 25,000 people there! It was clear and a little windy and not just crisp but cold. There was a 20-gun salute, and a parade of veterans and other military marching, and we sang O Canada and God Save the Queen. We couldn't see what was going on at the Cenotaph because we were a little too East to see, but seeing the roads all blocked off and stuffed with people, and the hills around the Parliament Buildings packed was a wonderful sight.

I didn't cry as much this year as I'd done in years past. I think my happiness and pride expressed themselves more in smiling than silent weeping. Like last year, there were decorated old men and women everywhere around me, and I felt like a heel not shaking their hands, but I would be a blubbering mess if I'd done so. If the bagpipers played "Amazing Grace" I would have been wheeled out on a gurney.

I was surprised there was no flyover, as there was one last year in Hamilton.

We are so lucky.

Still, Ontario doesn't treat today as a national holiday. I overheard someone say it's the only province to not dedicate the day. This is gross and surprising. Ontario. Hm. Sometimes the proof's in the pudding.

I'm really glad I was able to go to the Remembrance Day ceremony in the nation's capital. It means a lot more to me than Canada Day. Canada Day is a party for the country, but Remembrance Day is a celebration of the country.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Blessed Are the Teachers, for They are Covered in Snot.

Today I went to work with my Aunt Signe. (It’s sig-knee, btw.) She teaches grade one at a nearby elementary school. I was a little uptight because I haven’t spent a lot of time with small people and I’m cleaning it up when I say: it’s not at the top of my “to do” list. All I could picture were 18 sets of snotted-on, grubby, sticky hands reaching for me, a la Shaun of the Dead.

The day wasn’t so bad, and I have to say, I have all the more respect for teachers now. This doesn’t go for Uni profs – that’s (ideally) like communicating with other adults, and elementary school is like being immersed in an entirely different culture. This is a culture that has currency in phrases like: “He hit me first!” and, “My sister’s name starts with a ‘j’” and, “I had a cookie for a snack!” (What? Who asked if you did?)

I didn’t like them staring at me for seemingly no reason. Did they expect me to entertain them? Did they think I was going to teach them something? Were they wondering where I got my sweater?

Teaching public school was never on my list of possible careers, but I can put it firmly in the “no” pile now. I’m going to leave educating small, smoochy brains to others, and I’ll keep searching for fulfilling employment elsewhere. I always had a lot of respect for teachers (and nurses, btw), but now I appreciate it a little more.

It’s The Little Differences.

Davinder is a classmate (friend?) of Mike’s from Mac. I called him Feodor for poops and giggles. I think I met him once and although I think I still remember what he looks like, and even though I know he wouldn’t know me from Adam (Eve?), I think he and I would get along, besides his constant references to comic books/graphic novels. Anyhow, by following Ben’s links, I started reading his blog very sporadically since this summer. This was the post that I knew he and I would be friends if Mike ever let me socialize with his classmates (we all know it was for the best he didn’t):


I’ve been loaning comics to my non comic reading friend John over the past few months, and a couple of days ago we sat down and watched a few episodes of Justice League Unlimited. I phoned him last night and had this conversation with him:

John: Hey, I downloaded a few more episodes of Justice League.
Davinder: Oh yeah?
J: Yeah. So who do you think the hottest superheroine is?
D: What?!
J: I think it’s the Huntress.
D: Dude, they’re drawings.
J: Come on, I won’t tell anyone. Who do you think the hottest superhero girl is?
D: What the fuck? Shut up! How did this happen?

More recently he wrote:

I was driving down my street the other night and these two guys, probably in their early twenties, were walking kind of on the side of the road ahead of me. As I got closer, the guy furthest from me heard my car, and without looking back or breaking stride reached over and took his friend by the arm and pulled him in a little, out of my way. Kind of like, "Hey, look out." I don't know, I guess you had to see it, but I thought the unconscious way he did it was sort of sweet.

I like when people notice those sweet little things that people are capable of doing. I sometimes think I’m broken and overly synical because I just take for granted that no one cares about anyone else like that anymore/here.

Shit on the Radio.

I’ve been listening to Virgin Radio UK a lot lately (follow sidebar links to get %100 of your daily serving of Limey). It gives me The Yearn To Return.

I’m listening to it right now, and the song that just came on? “Brimful of Asha” by Cornershop. When I worked in England, the morning shift at the Utopia Health and Leisure Spa was at 6am, therefore I was up at 5am. The radio kept me awake while I prepared for my day and this song was on every morning at 5:15am, followed by the song that still (quite unexpectedly!) makes my blood boil just thinking about it: “Blue (Da Ba Bee)” by 65 Eiffel. I’m not sure the Cornershop song crossed the pond, but I know the GD “Blue” one did. Shudder. Maybe that kind of music is only relegated to very early morning radio, as the radio playing here at 8:30pm is 1:30am there.

Beatles Kareoke. Awesomely fun, turn up your speakers and start chanelling. Excellent synth keyboard accompanyment.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

You Bigot.

If you can't or won't listen and watch this clip, it proves you are a giant fucking bigot. Why? It proves you hate The Chinese. And the Backstreet Boys. Which is worse? Neither. Go to Hell.

This clip is somewhat safe for work, if your boss(es) aren't bigots.

More (and scroll down). To watch these, your comp-uter has to be better than the glorified abacus my uncle uses. And not bigoted.

Chickety China.

Seven days since last post. By now I usually have at least one email from Jackie requesting an update. Maybe she got a new job in the private sector and is now actually busy at work! Gasp!

Last weekend I was at Marilyn’s place. I don’t think I should go back anymore because she doesn’t get much done when I’m around. We went to see North Country, which was fine, but I wouldn’t raise my voice over it. It’s still better than Stay by a billion. I just hope there's not a lot of time wasted at the Oscars over N.C. It's a poor-man's Brockovitch.

When I returned to Kanata, my Uncle Wendell’s comp-uter was misbehaving so I couldn’t log on. It’s better now.

I’m now in Osgoode, which is another half hour away from Ottawa. I’m at my Aunt Signe’s place. Her husband, my Uncle John K (not to be confused with Uncle John B) has gone hunting and Aunt Signe doesn’t like to stay alone since she discovered a couple of home invaders last year. I think that’s reasonable. Anyroads, the internet was misbehaving here yesterday, too, so not only did I have a late start at checking emails, and updating blogs, I haven’t done any job searching this week! Gack gack gack.

It’s sehr kalt here today. -1, I think. I went for an hour walk yesterday and it was very lovely. I don’t know why, but it made me miss my mother. =shrug= It was really crisp, so the air smelled really clean (I made a habit of not taking deep breaths in Hamilton). The air seemed thinner, too, which made me want to use my lungs right down to their bottom lobes. (I think there’s a Fred Astaire song that involves rarified air.) I must have looked like an absolute tool walking around Osgoode, grinning and animatedly taking heaving breaths. Oh, well. I’ll just tell them I’m “from away.” That works on PEI, so it should fly here, right?

I think I’ve decided that I’d rather just move back to the Maritimes than bother to get a job here. The pros outweigh the cons.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Ginger Men, Brave Ladies.

Who else loves MythBusters? It’s a great show on the Discovery Channel that strives to recreate urban legends situations to see if the myths are plausible. This is how the website describes it: "That's right, they do more than explain how something may or may not be scientifically possible. Through trial and error they actually demonstrate it."

This show indulges a few of my weaknesses: science, movie tricks (the hosts are movie special effects guys), humour, and red-headed men. This show must have a huge budget. You must check it out if you haven’t already.

I’m watching Rosa Parks’ funeral out of DEE-troit. It’s awesome to watch! Screaming preachers, solemn speakers, rousing gospel, history, history, history. Can you imagine? Put yourself in her place. Shit. Bill Clinton said something along the lines of, "Isn’t it funny that she was supposed to give up her seat in the place that demands men give up their seats for ladies?" There’s a guy on now listing how to say "thank you" in dozens of languages. People are laughing, crying, hopping and hooting and hollering. Please, may our WASPy funerals evolve to this kind of celebration of a person’s life, as opposed to a mourning of a person’s death.

There She Is.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

I Believe The Traditional Gift is Paper. How Ironic.

Oh my, how exciting. It’s my Blog’s 1st birthday! While I was wary and embarrassed a year ago, the thing turned out to be a lot of fun. It was a good distraction during my last year of grad school. It was nice to not have to write in formal academic style. Now I have the privilege of chronicling my stifling unemployment. Great.

I'd make a list of highs and lows, but that just wouldn't be a balanced list.

I accept cheques and chocolate as gifts. As soon as I get an address, I’ll let you all know where to send stuff.