Okay, so it's no IPB calibre game diary...more like a highlight version...and not even a good highlight version like NHL On The Fly...but here goes...
I've sat down with my Dad to watch this game. He likes to watch with no sound on. He's waiting for the day when you can pick which sounds you get with a game. Which, as an aside, would be way cool. "I'd like all the on ice noise and the crowd, oh, good play by play guy tonight - I'll keep him then - oh (said with disdain) *he's* doing colour...mute FORSURE!" (But I digress).
Canucks have the puck behind their own net. They're taking their sweet time setting up the play. I snidely remark that if they just stand there a little longer, they're sure to run out the clock (I think there was about 2 minutes left).
Canucks do a break-out, it looks good at first and then falls flat. I remark, "guess he's not a Weaver of magic". My Dad didn't get it at first, til he realized the Canucks D Weaver had started the play. I felt pretty proud. I was practically Ron MacLean right there.
The Canucks have the puck for a long time in the offensive zone but no real chances. I think to myself that the Canucks are like my spin class this morning: lots of cycling, but you never go anywhere.
Avalanche are called on a penalty. Their coach is shown doing the usual freak out (recall, no sound). My Dad says, "he seems like a sweet guy" (in a very sort of sincere sounding voice, hard to explain, but it was somehow funny). Then they do the penalty box shot with the graphic, and it's Kurt Sauer in the box. For a minute I thought my Dad somehow had known that and wasn't referring to the coach at all with his, "sweet" comment but making a joke re: "sour" (that's the antithesis of sweet for anyone who didn't get that ;) Of course he was talking about the coach. But it was still well-timed comedy, dammit.
Canucks again, what looks to be some pretty passing - I think "tic...tac!....noooo". On the replay, it appears that the "pretty passing" I originally saw was actually more like a series of lucky blunders. Kind of made it cool, actually.
I note the "Viagra" ads on the boards. A reminder to "get it up" I think. Unless the opposing goalie is weak 5 hole or on wraparounds, in which case...
Friday, November 9, 2007
Flight of Fancy
A34. B36. Like bra sizes.
Then lift off.
It's dark. Mood, feeling, sensation. Eerie?
Then the lights of the city spread out below. Dawning only of recognition. Then clouds.
Close eyes. Bumps. Association to a Tragically Hip song, but first hear a different song of theirs... "at the looooooooooooonely end of the rink, you and me..." before the song originally thought of, the more apt "Freak Turbulence".
Thoughts of food seep in...morphing...sexual. Over an hour, first today? Female... But awake?...the hour, so early. Doubts that this would really matter if male.
Thoughts - death. Like being an orgasm, back to the source? Swirling in this for several infinite moments.... BAM! The seeming infinite orgasm of being dead ends as it zips down to merge with an orgasm on earth, a newly fertilized egg......eyes blink open, take it in, close, BUMP! Wheels down, screech....
Then lift off.
It's dark. Mood, feeling, sensation. Eerie?
Then the lights of the city spread out below. Dawning only of recognition. Then clouds.
Close eyes. Bumps. Association to a Tragically Hip song, but first hear a different song of theirs... "at the looooooooooooonely end of the rink, you and me..." before the song originally thought of, the more apt "Freak Turbulence".
Thoughts of food seep in...morphing...sexual. Over an hour, first today? Female... But awake?...the hour, so early. Doubts that this would really matter if male.
Thoughts - death. Like being an orgasm, back to the source? Swirling in this for several infinite moments.... BAM! The seeming infinite orgasm of being dead ends as it zips down to merge with an orgasm on earth, a newly fertilized egg......eyes blink open, take it in, close, BUMP! Wheels down, screech....
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Blog Inspiration Synchronicity
The subtitle of this post should be: "A.K.A. awkward title" or "Take out the middle initial and you're left with BS". But I digress.
So over at IPB we were talking about 'old-fashioned phrases'. I mentioned that I had said "the proof is in the pudding" and the person I was speaking to (late 20's I think) said xe had never heard that expression.
Later that same day... (screen goes wavy), I was reading a book (coincidentally it was about blogging) and the author (Mason) was talking about "phrases you wish would come back into fashion".
So here goes...
"I don't give a tinker's damn." (Have to admit, that's new to me. Did tinker's have dams and someone got confused? Were they really crappy, leaky dams?)
"Here's mud in your eye." (Did that used to be the equivalent of the F word?? Once upon a time it was 'Mud in your eye!' and now it's 'Fuck off'?)
"He's a tall, cool drink of water." (Yeah, but the more pressing question is, who is the straw that stirs the drink?!?! Am I right?!)
"I like the cut of his jib." (Sailing is soooo kinky!)
"I'll fix your little red wagon." (Apparently wagon fixing is right up there with sailing, who knew).
So over at IPB we were talking about 'old-fashioned phrases'. I mentioned that I had said "the proof is in the pudding" and the person I was speaking to (late 20's I think) said xe had never heard that expression.
Later that same day... (screen goes wavy), I was reading a book (coincidentally it was about blogging) and the author (Mason) was talking about "phrases you wish would come back into fashion".
So here goes...
"I don't give a tinker's damn." (Have to admit, that's new to me. Did tinker's have dams and someone got confused? Were they really crappy, leaky dams?)
"Here's mud in your eye." (Did that used to be the equivalent of the F word?? Once upon a time it was 'Mud in your eye!' and now it's 'Fuck off'?)
"He's a tall, cool drink of water." (Yeah, but the more pressing question is, who is the straw that stirs the drink?!?! Am I right?!)
"I like the cut of his jib." (Sailing is soooo kinky!)
"I'll fix your little red wagon." (Apparently wagon fixing is right up there with sailing, who knew).
Grocery Store Gaffe
I walk into my local grocery store. I see a couple of friends. I wave hello.
(You're waiting for it right? Rubbing your hands together in anticipation, waiting for the 'gaffe' part. Will she trip and fall? Is there toilet paper stuck to her shoe? What will it be???)
Well let me start with a little background. The people I'm waving to - one is an ex-boyfriend (from way back, don't get excited) and the other is his girlfriend. Fiancee now actually. So the last time I saw them, it was afternoon and I was still in my housecoat (don't ask). I'm assuming what follows comes out of that interaction...
The Dude: "Wow! It's amazing to see you with clothes on! I'm not used to this! And so *early* in the day, too!" (This is all said in a booming voice that I'm sure at least a quarter of the store can hear.)
Now at first I'm just sort of, ha ha, yeah, until more of what he's saying sinks in and I realize how it must sound to others. I notice a couple clerks and customers start to give us strange looks. I begin to imagine what stories they're mentally composing to explain why this man is telling this woman how strange it is to see her with clothes on. I then make eye contact with the fiancee. With a bemused look, I say, "that really didn't sound very good, did it?" (not that it was a question, more like, duh, of course not). She most certainly agreed. He, meanwhile, is still talking, seemingly oblivious to what he's saying, or rather the effect that it's creating.
Ah, good times. Who knew the grocery store could be so much fun.
(You're waiting for it right? Rubbing your hands together in anticipation, waiting for the 'gaffe' part. Will she trip and fall? Is there toilet paper stuck to her shoe? What will it be???)
Well let me start with a little background. The people I'm waving to - one is an ex-boyfriend (from way back, don't get excited) and the other is his girlfriend. Fiancee now actually. So the last time I saw them, it was afternoon and I was still in my housecoat (don't ask). I'm assuming what follows comes out of that interaction...
The Dude: "Wow! It's amazing to see you with clothes on! I'm not used to this! And so *early* in the day, too!" (This is all said in a booming voice that I'm sure at least a quarter of the store can hear.)
Now at first I'm just sort of, ha ha, yeah, until more of what he's saying sinks in and I realize how it must sound to others. I notice a couple clerks and customers start to give us strange looks. I begin to imagine what stories they're mentally composing to explain why this man is telling this woman how strange it is to see her with clothes on. I then make eye contact with the fiancee. With a bemused look, I say, "that really didn't sound very good, did it?" (not that it was a question, more like, duh, of course not). She most certainly agreed. He, meanwhile, is still talking, seemingly oblivious to what he's saying, or rather the effect that it's creating.
Ah, good times. Who knew the grocery store could be so much fun.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Movie Moment
I recently went out of town to attend a wedding. I was leaving my friends' hotel to walk back to mine, standing at the crosswalk with other people waiting for the light to cross. All of a sudden I feel this...chivalrous...hand grab my arm. WTH? My head spins quickly to the side. I discover that a limo was backing up in the hotel drop off area to negotiate a turn, and as I was on the end of the line of people waiting, it was about to hit me. This dashing young man had leapt forward and taken my arm to ensure I was not hit. When I had sufficiently recovered my senses, I realized that this guy was also quite attractive. We exchanged a few comments. And I thought this would make a great "how did you meet?" story. Of course at the wedding we'd have to leave out the "and then we went back to my room and made out like rabbits" part ;) On second thought, I have a feeling rabbits are pretty quick, so I hope that saying refers to the frequency of the act, not the time spent. Sheesh, I've turned my movie moment into a damn porno. Maybe that's a new genre. It starts out as a romantic comedy and ends in porno. Gives new meaning to "Titanic". Heh heh. "We're going down!" But I digress, and wildly. Must focus. What? ...
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tsk Tsk TSN
This Devils vs. Penguins game is freakin' AWESOME. The 2nd period had so much controversy - kind of interesting - and the game itself has been so exciting and action packed.
So during some controversial calls in the 2nd, at one point the camera shows Lou Lamoriella (spelling?) sitting with Stephen Walcom (the head of officiating - can't remember his official title) and they're laughing together. Ok, firstly, Lou laughing?! But secondly, that *really* didn't look good. Way too cozy. Especially during that particular moment of the game. The commentators made a few comments about Walcom living in Pittsburgh so that's why he's at the game yada yada. Well, in the 2nd intermission, they show the same footage, this time with a "Recorded Earlier" stamp on it, while the commentators talk about how that footage was actually recorded prior to the game, and they regret it if they gave the wrong impression blah blah blah. IF?!?! You regret it *if* you gave the wrong impression?! Hello, that's like me giving a lap dance, pulling out an accordian length of condoms, backing up into a room while giving the "come here" signal with my finger and undoing whatever clothes I have left on, and then getting outraged when the guy puts a move on me and saying huffily, 'well, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression...'
IF... pffttt.
So during some controversial calls in the 2nd, at one point the camera shows Lou Lamoriella (spelling?) sitting with Stephen Walcom (the head of officiating - can't remember his official title) and they're laughing together. Ok, firstly, Lou laughing?! But secondly, that *really* didn't look good. Way too cozy. Especially during that particular moment of the game. The commentators made a few comments about Walcom living in Pittsburgh so that's why he's at the game yada yada. Well, in the 2nd intermission, they show the same footage, this time with a "Recorded Earlier" stamp on it, while the commentators talk about how that footage was actually recorded prior to the game, and they regret it if they gave the wrong impression blah blah blah. IF?!?! You regret it *if* you gave the wrong impression?! Hello, that's like me giving a lap dance, pulling out an accordian length of condoms, backing up into a room while giving the "come here" signal with my finger and undoing whatever clothes I have left on, and then getting outraged when the guy puts a move on me and saying huffily, 'well, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression...'
IF... pffttt.
Heh Heh Heh - Hockey
TSN's Healy on a controversial goal:
'I know that Fleury spends half the game on his knees and the other half on his back...'
Now Healy is one of my least favorite commentators, but honestly, that was too funny. No one else on the panel seemed to react but then I don't suppose they're allowed (on air at least) to yell out things such as, "Yeah! Like your Mama!"
'I know that Fleury spends half the game on his knees and the other half on his back...'
Now Healy is one of my least favorite commentators, but honestly, that was too funny. No one else on the panel seemed to react but then I don't suppose they're allowed (on air at least) to yell out things such as, "Yeah! Like your Mama!"
Friday, October 12, 2007
Great Blogspectations Presents... Great Boobspectations
Following close on the heels of "What a Boob", we now have "Great Boobspectations".
What did you expect, these things come in pairs you know. (Bah-dum-ching!)
'Great Boobspectations' is inspired by one Andrew of IPB who read "What a Boob" and then came across a post at KuklasKorner about a Craigslist ad that...well... you'll see. So I'm reposting the ad below...
"I have a bunch of Canucks tix, and normally I use them for business development and entertain client, or take some of my cheap friends who wont buy their own, and once in a while, my wife decides she is a hockey fan and enjoys a game.
I know there are always lots of people looking for tickets, so I figured I would post on CL, and see if there was anyone else that would like a FREE ticket to go to the game with ME…..meet a complete stranger, and spend a harmless evening watching the Nucks. I am sure the conversation will be somewhat more interesting, entertaining, or at the very least, better to look at than one of my clients or beer drinking friends.
So here is the criteria and what I propose…….I am looking for an attractive, fit, married or single, classy, BUSTY female to join me as my guest for an upcoming Canucks game. No game in particular…whatever fits both of our schedules. Ideally you would wear something classy, but with a little edge to the outfit…i love cleavage, I love big boobs, and i love a little attitude and confidence to go along with it.
This is NOT about sex, or trying to solicit a sexual encounter and I am NOT expecting anything in return before or after the game. Just some fun conversation, a cool experience, and maybe a glimpse (ok maybe two)at some nice BIG boobs….I am a total boob guy, but unfortunately, most of my clients are males, and my wife was not blessed with anything bigger than a b cup.
So…….if you fit the description, email me back, and lets see if we can set up a “Canuck date”….
me: 30, married, professionally employed, attractive, clean cut, classy and respectful."
I love the "classy and respectful" part at the end. At any rate, Mr. What A Boob has turned out to be a wonderful inspiration - I even joked that I might have to change the blog name to Great Boobspectations after all this. But then I saw reason and just did one post. However, a bunch of 'boob' talk got generated over at IPB that caused the Oh-So-Fun and lovely Katebits to share a story about an online dating profile. Katebits described it as follows:
"the guy was going on and on and on with shit like,'You should have the exotic beauty of Catherine Zeta Jones, the bubbly personality of Drew Barrymore, the quirky appeal of Audry Hepburn….ect ect.' Honestly, he went on like this FOREVER and he must have listed at least fifty movie stars and their best quality. By the time I was half way through I was literally disgusted, but I kept reading because I couldn’t believe that anyone would have such gall. (By the way, there wasn’t a single piece of information about the GUY, only the incredible list of expectations.) SO I get to the end of the profile and I am really truly aghast, and he finishes his profile with this line:
'Oh, who am I kidding? Must have big tits and a pulse.'"
That is SO hilarious.
Thank you Andrew & Katebits for your contributions to today's installment of "Great Boobspectations". Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.
What did you expect, these things come in pairs you know. (Bah-dum-ching!)
'Great Boobspectations' is inspired by one Andrew of IPB who read "What a Boob" and then came across a post at KuklasKorner about a Craigslist ad that...well... you'll see. So I'm reposting the ad below...
"I have a bunch of Canucks tix, and normally I use them for business development and entertain client, or take some of my cheap friends who wont buy their own, and once in a while, my wife decides she is a hockey fan and enjoys a game.
I know there are always lots of people looking for tickets, so I figured I would post on CL, and see if there was anyone else that would like a FREE ticket to go to the game with ME…..meet a complete stranger, and spend a harmless evening watching the Nucks. I am sure the conversation will be somewhat more interesting, entertaining, or at the very least, better to look at than one of my clients or beer drinking friends.
So here is the criteria and what I propose…….I am looking for an attractive, fit, married or single, classy, BUSTY female to join me as my guest for an upcoming Canucks game. No game in particular…whatever fits both of our schedules. Ideally you would wear something classy, but with a little edge to the outfit…i love cleavage, I love big boobs, and i love a little attitude and confidence to go along with it.
This is NOT about sex, or trying to solicit a sexual encounter and I am NOT expecting anything in return before or after the game. Just some fun conversation, a cool experience, and maybe a glimpse (ok maybe two)at some nice BIG boobs….I am a total boob guy, but unfortunately, most of my clients are males, and my wife was not blessed with anything bigger than a b cup.
So…….if you fit the description, email me back, and lets see if we can set up a “Canuck date”….
me: 30, married, professionally employed, attractive, clean cut, classy and respectful."
I love the "classy and respectful" part at the end. At any rate, Mr. What A Boob has turned out to be a wonderful inspiration - I even joked that I might have to change the blog name to Great Boobspectations after all this. But then I saw reason and just did one post. However, a bunch of 'boob' talk got generated over at IPB that caused the Oh-So-Fun and lovely Katebits to share a story about an online dating profile. Katebits described it as follows:
"the guy was going on and on and on with shit like,'You should have the exotic beauty of Catherine Zeta Jones, the bubbly personality of Drew Barrymore, the quirky appeal of Audry Hepburn….ect ect.' Honestly, he went on like this FOREVER and he must have listed at least fifty movie stars and their best quality. By the time I was half way through I was literally disgusted, but I kept reading because I couldn’t believe that anyone would have such gall. (By the way, there wasn’t a single piece of information about the GUY, only the incredible list of expectations.) SO I get to the end of the profile and I am really truly aghast, and he finishes his profile with this line:
'Oh, who am I kidding? Must have big tits and a pulse.'"
That is SO hilarious.
Thank you Andrew & Katebits for your contributions to today's installment of "Great Boobspectations". Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
What A Boob
So I meet this guy who decides in very short order that we may possibly be soul mates or something. I've talked to a few people about some of the stuff that transpired and it has earned this dude various nicknames and mockery but I figured it was time to be really meanspirited and make fun of him on the internet. But I'm not so mean that I'm going to give his name and all that. (Gee, give me a medal).
So this guy seems smitten. Keep in mind we have had very little contact. I mean VERY little. I haven't even really formed much of an opinion of him at all. So he says to me, so I need to ask you something really important, in fact, it's a dealbreaker. (Seems a little early for this type of conversation but ok...) So I'm expecting something about how I feel about him having kids or something big like that (he does have stepkids). Instead, he says, "do you like to cuddle?" Barely waiting for an answer, he goes on to tell me how he LOVES to give footrubs and do all kinds of other "romantic" things. (ASIDE: Have I been sucked out of my regular life and right into some Harlequin romance novel? Hey, open the book wider, there's not enough room in these pages! Ack, Fabio is learing at me from the cover - read faster, I need to keep my distance!) He then waits for me to slobber like a dog and ask for his hand in marriage or something. He does not seem to be able to understand or even marginally comprehend my less than enthusiastic response. (ASIDE: Why are we talking about cuddling after 5 minutes? Is that supposed to be better than talking about sex? Am I supposed to think you must be a great sensitive guy? Because it ain't working, in fact I'm thinking you may well be a dweeb. You either are REALLY into cuddling, which is a bit odd, I mean cuddling is okay and all but there are limits OR you are just saying all this shit because you read in some handbook on women that it will get you laid. I'm not sure which option is more disturbing. Just when I think I've nailed it down to one, the other races ahead and grabs the lead.) So then he immediately follows this up with, "are you attracted to me?" Um, I've "known" you for a grand total of minutes, easy there. As I fumble through that he then says, "well do you like talking to me?" I'm unable to refrain from a sarcastic response along the lines of, "No, I'm despising every second but I don't terminate the conversation." (Upon further reflection, perhaps that wasn't so much sarcasm as prescience). And so it goes. So I end up linking something he says to Seinfeld. He then raves about how much he loves the show. So I describe this part of an episode where George is driving up to the Hamptons for the weekend with a new girlfriend. They're doing the voice over of what George is thinking. It goes something like, "if I reached out and touched her boob right now, she'd slap me, but after this weekend, I'll be able to touch it whenever I want." So I finish my description and he seems very odd. He blurts out, "I can't believe you just said that." So I, rather perplexed, say, "what, you mean boob?" I get an affirmative response and then this guy goes from, 'you are my soul mate, I want us to get to know each other in a deep and meaningful way' to 'uh, I have to run, bye'. He practically runs away. I'm left rather amused. Seriously, you couldn't handle me saying "boob"? What kind of guy are you? Hell, a friend of mine's husband practically drools if he hears that word. And I don't think he's the only one. So I'm thinking that I should use "boob" as a screening tool. Every person I meet from now on, young or old, male or female, I will use that word and if they run screaming I will be relieved to be rid of them without further adieu.
So this guy seems smitten. Keep in mind we have had very little contact. I mean VERY little. I haven't even really formed much of an opinion of him at all. So he says to me, so I need to ask you something really important, in fact, it's a dealbreaker. (Seems a little early for this type of conversation but ok...) So I'm expecting something about how I feel about him having kids or something big like that (he does have stepkids). Instead, he says, "do you like to cuddle?" Barely waiting for an answer, he goes on to tell me how he LOVES to give footrubs and do all kinds of other "romantic" things. (ASIDE: Have I been sucked out of my regular life and right into some Harlequin romance novel? Hey, open the book wider, there's not enough room in these pages! Ack, Fabio is learing at me from the cover - read faster, I need to keep my distance!) He then waits for me to slobber like a dog and ask for his hand in marriage or something. He does not seem to be able to understand or even marginally comprehend my less than enthusiastic response. (ASIDE: Why are we talking about cuddling after 5 minutes? Is that supposed to be better than talking about sex? Am I supposed to think you must be a great sensitive guy? Because it ain't working, in fact I'm thinking you may well be a dweeb. You either are REALLY into cuddling, which is a bit odd, I mean cuddling is okay and all but there are limits OR you are just saying all this shit because you read in some handbook on women that it will get you laid. I'm not sure which option is more disturbing. Just when I think I've nailed it down to one, the other races ahead and grabs the lead.) So then he immediately follows this up with, "are you attracted to me?" Um, I've "known" you for a grand total of minutes, easy there. As I fumble through that he then says, "well do you like talking to me?" I'm unable to refrain from a sarcastic response along the lines of, "No, I'm despising every second but I don't terminate the conversation." (Upon further reflection, perhaps that wasn't so much sarcasm as prescience). And so it goes. So I end up linking something he says to Seinfeld. He then raves about how much he loves the show. So I describe this part of an episode where George is driving up to the Hamptons for the weekend with a new girlfriend. They're doing the voice over of what George is thinking. It goes something like, "if I reached out and touched her boob right now, she'd slap me, but after this weekend, I'll be able to touch it whenever I want." So I finish my description and he seems very odd. He blurts out, "I can't believe you just said that." So I, rather perplexed, say, "what, you mean boob?" I get an affirmative response and then this guy goes from, 'you are my soul mate, I want us to get to know each other in a deep and meaningful way' to 'uh, I have to run, bye'. He practically runs away. I'm left rather amused. Seriously, you couldn't handle me saying "boob"? What kind of guy are you? Hell, a friend of mine's husband practically drools if he hears that word. And I don't think he's the only one. So I'm thinking that I should use "boob" as a screening tool. Every person I meet from now on, young or old, male or female, I will use that word and if they run screaming I will be relieved to be rid of them without further adieu.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
...Brought To You By The Letter P and the Number 3
So I'm over at a friends' place the other day, having breakfast in the dining room when all of a sudden there is a mighty crash/explosion sound from the kitchen. Upon investigation, it turns out that a pan exploded in the oven. As this is discussed by those present, I happen to notice that everything involved starts with "P". It was a Pyrex pan of pumpkins for pie. The pumpkins had to be declared unusuable as the 'glass' (Pyrex) had shattered so incredibly that there were bits everywhere. My friend made the best of it, saying it was only $3 worth of pumpkins. And there was a 3 year old present. And a 33 year old. So I made the joke that today's episode is brought to us by ... (see title of the post), a Sesame Street Shout-out.
Did you have to be there? Or did this translate to the blogosphere?
Did you have to be there? Or did this translate to the blogosphere?
Celtic Concert Contemplation
So I went to a concert the other night that featured a celtic band. They were quite diverse and the whole experience was very enjoyable. Small venue. The woman in the band who spoke the most was very funny, with a Scottish accent. She liked to tell a bit of a story about the songs they would play and they were very improvisational. 'What should we play now?' they'd say to one another and then pick something. At one point she said they were going to do a song by this guy called Time Will End (the song, not the guy - and I think that's what she said, don't quote me). She said that she thought this was a neat title and she emailed this guy to ask what the story was behind his song, thinking it might be very cool. He said he was "contemplating his navel" when he wrote it but that if she came up with a good story, be sure to let him know. So she put it out to the audience to do just that. She said if anyone wanted to share and had a good one, she'd use it at future concerts and even give them credit.
So they start playing and I sort of zone out a bit and just let the music wash over me. Wow, that sounded so incredibly cheesy that I feel nauseous. It wasn't that weird. So anyway, I'm seeing if anything comes to me from listening to the music but all I can think of is the navel contemplation and I find myself kind of wishing that she hadn't put that in because it's interfering with me thinking of anything. Then suddenly stuff comes to me. So I thought I'd share...
I visualized a guy sitting in a room and literally staring at his belly button. (I didn't think until right now the symbolism involved in this, being that the umbilical cord unites mother and baby blah blah). Anyway... I see him doing this and then the screen goes wavy and we whoosh into his belly button in a sort of tornado like motion. There we see, sort of in miniature, a whole little 'village' in which the grass roofed huts are being lit on fire by marauders and people are running and screaming (there's no noise but you know they are). Then it morphs in the tornado way again and we see another scene. Each scene is a different time period but all sad in theme (or evil or what have you). The feeling that came up was depressing. Like since the beginning of time there has been ugliness (killing, hatred, etc) among humans and it will never change kind of thing.
At this point the music of the song kind of changes and I feel there's a different tone to it (not musical tone, just ... you know). So then I see the same kind of thing as before except now the scenes are more happy or at least ... emotional is the only word I can think of... like weddings or children being born or something. I think at the end of the song perhaps it zooms back out and we see the guy sitting in the room again, kind of expressionless.
------
"That's my story...and I'm sticking to it."
(Borrowed from a live version of "Highway Girl" by The Tragically Hip - very very very cool song).
So they start playing and I sort of zone out a bit and just let the music wash over me. Wow, that sounded so incredibly cheesy that I feel nauseous. It wasn't that weird. So anyway, I'm seeing if anything comes to me from listening to the music but all I can think of is the navel contemplation and I find myself kind of wishing that she hadn't put that in because it's interfering with me thinking of anything. Then suddenly stuff comes to me. So I thought I'd share...
I visualized a guy sitting in a room and literally staring at his belly button. (I didn't think until right now the symbolism involved in this, being that the umbilical cord unites mother and baby blah blah). Anyway... I see him doing this and then the screen goes wavy and we whoosh into his belly button in a sort of tornado like motion. There we see, sort of in miniature, a whole little 'village' in which the grass roofed huts are being lit on fire by marauders and people are running and screaming (there's no noise but you know they are). Then it morphs in the tornado way again and we see another scene. Each scene is a different time period but all sad in theme (or evil or what have you). The feeling that came up was depressing. Like since the beginning of time there has been ugliness (killing, hatred, etc) among humans and it will never change kind of thing.
At this point the music of the song kind of changes and I feel there's a different tone to it (not musical tone, just ... you know). So then I see the same kind of thing as before except now the scenes are more happy or at least ... emotional is the only word I can think of... like weddings or children being born or something. I think at the end of the song perhaps it zooms back out and we see the guy sitting in the room again, kind of expressionless.
------
"That's my story...and I'm sticking to it."
(Borrowed from a live version of "Highway Girl" by The Tragically Hip - very very very cool song).
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Quick Quips
I went to a party that I didn't know many people at. A friend of mine whispered to me that this one woman was the one she'd told me about before - this woman and her husband...well, they have sex with other couples and that kind of thing. So she points her out and I don't think much more about it. And I haven't seen the husband yet, he's outside. I still haven't seen him (I'm in the kitchen with the women, you know how it is) and I made a joke so people were all laughing at that when the swinger woman exclaimed, "ohmigod! you'd love my husband!" At which point I thought about the swinging thing and was pretty entertained by her comment. She may have wondered why I raised my eyebrow, winked at her slyly & knowingly and then gently caressed her ass.
------
I'm talking to this woman that I know. Hard to describe her personality, a bit naive in a sense. So I say I'm going to this hockey game in another city and she says, "Oh maybe I'll see you there!" I know very well she means in the city, but I say back, "You're gonna be at the game, huh." So then she does the 'you know what I mean' thing and replies, "Well, you know, you might see me walking the streets." Heh heh. Yeah? Really? Standing on your corner huh. Chortle.
------
I'm talking to this woman that I know. Hard to describe her personality, a bit naive in a sense. So I say I'm going to this hockey game in another city and she says, "Oh maybe I'll see you there!" I know very well she means in the city, but I say back, "You're gonna be at the game, huh." So then she does the 'you know what I mean' thing and replies, "Well, you know, you might see me walking the streets." Heh heh. Yeah? Really? Standing on your corner huh. Chortle.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?
Over at Interchangeable Parts http://interchangeableparts.wordpress.com/2007/09/29/psuedo-opening-day-ducks-vs-kings-092907/ in their game day diary they wrote:
"7:15 We hear all about how when Kopitar was a little kid he frequently asked his grandmother to interview him in English. That’s probably why we’re not professional athletes – we didn’t commit enough to the dream of being interviewed a lot when we were kids."
Not only did that line bring the funny, but it also inspired this post. (Hopefully the girls at IPB aren't rolling their eyes at that. "Oh fabulous, we inspired THAT?! - eye roll ;)
That made me think of when I was a kid. I think I'd been reading a bunch of Nancy Drew at this particular juncture and I got into this detective/crime solving thing. In one she'd managed to escape after being tied up because she tensed her wrists in a particular way and thus was able to loosen her bonds. So, gleefully, I recall begging my Dad to tie me up. At the time, I didn't understand why he didn't seem super keen to do so. Once I got older, it was apparent, and hilarious to me. The poor guy figured Social Services would pick that time to send over the child protection services and how would he explain that.
"But you don't understand, she just wanted to pretend to be Nancy Drew, that's all!"
(The workers, between themselves: "And who were you going to pretend to be - you sick &^%$" they say to one another before they remove child-me from the premises).
And in case you're wondering, I do believe I was able to convince him in the end, but he used those big green garbage bags. Not ropes or chain or anything. And of course this all came in very handy for my detective career. Um, well... Hey, I did date a P.I. once! But when he tied me up I didn't want to escape. Just kidding. About the tying up part that is - I really did date a P.I. - it was kind of creepy.
"Ok, let me tell you where I live."
"Don't bother, I'll find you."
"7:15 We hear all about how when Kopitar was a little kid he frequently asked his grandmother to interview him in English. That’s probably why we’re not professional athletes – we didn’t commit enough to the dream of being interviewed a lot when we were kids."
Not only did that line bring the funny, but it also inspired this post. (Hopefully the girls at IPB aren't rolling their eyes at that. "Oh fabulous, we inspired THAT?! - eye roll ;)
That made me think of when I was a kid. I think I'd been reading a bunch of Nancy Drew at this particular juncture and I got into this detective/crime solving thing. In one she'd managed to escape after being tied up because she tensed her wrists in a particular way and thus was able to loosen her bonds. So, gleefully, I recall begging my Dad to tie me up. At the time, I didn't understand why he didn't seem super keen to do so. Once I got older, it was apparent, and hilarious to me. The poor guy figured Social Services would pick that time to send over the child protection services and how would he explain that.
"But you don't understand, she just wanted to pretend to be Nancy Drew, that's all!"
(The workers, between themselves: "And who were you going to pretend to be - you sick &^%$" they say to one another before they remove child-me from the premises).
And in case you're wondering, I do believe I was able to convince him in the end, but he used those big green garbage bags. Not ropes or chain or anything. And of course this all came in very handy for my detective career. Um, well... Hey, I did date a P.I. once! But when he tied me up I didn't want to escape. Just kidding. About the tying up part that is - I really did date a P.I. - it was kind of creepy.
"Ok, let me tell you where I live."
"Don't bother, I'll find you."
Hockey Date in Canada
So I'm watching the NHL season opener from England and the commentator says something along the lines of, "he put his arm around the guy and almost took a penalty". So I think (sarcastically) to myself, "wow, putting your arm around someone (a gesture of affection) is a penalty huh" which leads me to picture being on a date and the guy goes to put his arm around me and I say stridently, "hey! nuh uh, penalty!.." which immediately led me to the continuation of that thought, "..2 minutes in the box!". Uh. Hmm, that might not work so well. Ahem. Right-o then.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Hockey Talk
This summer I read a hockey blog (can't remember which one) talking about how many games some of the juniors play. The author made a case about how people sometimes complain about hockey players sounding "dumb" in interviews and how that's not a surprise when these young guys are playing a zillion games a year, really, how are they supposed to talk about anything else besides the usual hockey cliches?
I found this interesting, in part I think because I'd never really thought of that particular argument before. And apparently it stuck with me, because a month or so later it's still thought provoking. What got me thinking about it again was listening to some player interviews today. And I thought it would be nice if interviewers asked more non-hockey questions. Or at least broader hockey questions. This might help generate less cliche-ridden answers. I mean really, how many answers are there to "what do you need to do to score out there tonight?" "Well, we've just got to put the puck in the net" (no shit, that's the definition of scoring) "I think we need to fight harder for the puck" (no doubt, hard to score without it) "We need to create some more chances" (again, no shit)...
If the interviewer asked things more 'hockey-related', say "what do you do to get ready for a game" - I'd probably be more intrigued.
And we're out of time. Thanks for joining us tonight on Hockey Talk.
I found this interesting, in part I think because I'd never really thought of that particular argument before. And apparently it stuck with me, because a month or so later it's still thought provoking. What got me thinking about it again was listening to some player interviews today. And I thought it would be nice if interviewers asked more non-hockey questions. Or at least broader hockey questions. This might help generate less cliche-ridden answers. I mean really, how many answers are there to "what do you need to do to score out there tonight?" "Well, we've just got to put the puck in the net" (no shit, that's the definition of scoring) "I think we need to fight harder for the puck" (no doubt, hard to score without it) "We need to create some more chances" (again, no shit)...
If the interviewer asked things more 'hockey-related', say "what do you do to get ready for a game" - I'd probably be more intrigued.
And we're out of time. Thanks for joining us tonight on Hockey Talk.
What's in a name?
Sometimes I see a cool name in credits or something. Then I usually can't remember what it was. But through the wonders of blogging, I can now document this kind of thing (oh, lucky you, readers!). Today I saw the last name "McEvily" - that's pretty cool. I might marry that dude just to get his last name ;)
It's a lot better than the dentist office sign I used to drive by from time to time - Dr. Pus - I dislike going to the dentist enough, no way I'm going to one named that.
It's a lot better than the dentist office sign I used to drive by from time to time - Dr. Pus - I dislike going to the dentist enough, no way I'm going to one named that.
Quotable Quotes
After being released from the hospital due to a nasty hit, NHL'er Dean McAmmond said:
"People say I've got concussion problems but I don't have concussion problems. I've got a problem with people giving me traumatic blows to the head, that's what I've got a problem with."
Nice.
"People say I've got concussion problems but I don't have concussion problems. I've got a problem with people giving me traumatic blows to the head, that's what I've got a problem with."
Nice.
Toast Talk
I was away from home for a few days awhile back and when I returned I found my toaster outside. I figured either my housemates were VERY slowly moving me out, or something was up with the toaster. I later found out that it was apparently 'shooting out flames' while someone was making toast. I was kind of sorry I missed that. Then later I found a piece of toast outside, near the abandoned toaster, and it made me laugh because the toast was VERY black in the middle.
And while I'm on the subject of toast(ers), this summer I discovered one of the most annoying things - a Disney toaster - it plays stupid songs while it makes toast. And I thought mornings were bad before...
And while I'm on the subject of toast(ers), this summer I discovered one of the most annoying things - a Disney toaster - it plays stupid songs while it makes toast. And I thought mornings were bad before...
Friday, September 21, 2007
Game Day Diary, Part 3 of 3
So where was I? Ah, yes....
After the stretching I drove off to get myself showered up and have some lunch and so on. I then proceeded on a several hour journey to get myself to a hockey game. I ran into parking problems at one point and almost missed a connection. But eventually I found myself at the rink where I waited with a bunch of other early fans until the doors opened. I must have been one of the very first people through the doors. I did a quick look at some merchandise, then proceeded to check out the food and beverages. I ended up getting natchos and a Sprite (yep, I know how to have a good time!). I almost never drink Sprite, but I happened to see it and thought of Marty (Brodeur that is, not Short or Turco or Casey or....) so that's what I went with. I then proceeded to my seat. (Yes, not only do I know how to have a good time, I know how to do so all by myself. Wait. Uh... That sounded kind of kinky. Anyhoo....)
I chowed down on my natchos and took in the atmosphere as more people filed in. In the end, despite a nearly full areana, I had an empty seat on one side of me. The guys sitting on the other side I had a couple complaints about. One, the guy sits down and immediately claims both armrests. Two, they stunk. Or at least one of them did. I'm not exactly sure what it was, but I'm going to go with cigar smoke as it seemed like sitting beside a cigarette smoker times about 50. I finally smartened up and moved over a seat. Now I was beside a group of guys who were really enjoying craploads of beer. And I could tell they'd been enjoying said beer for quite some time, as they were hugging each other or otherwise demonstrating their affection for one another in a way that men (or straight ones at least) never do unless they're drunk. It was amusing.
The game itself was ok but I couldn't help but compare it to an NHL game and so it was a bit lackluster. But it was cool being in the crowd, having other people gasp at the same plays that I would and so forth. There were even some fights (on the ice). I noted that my reaction to the fights was different than usual. When watching an NHL game I get pretty into the fights. These being young hockey players (teens), I found the fights somewhat less enjoyable. Kind of brought back memories of guys fighting in high school. As a girl you sometimes felt bad for a guy who would have to fight even though he was probably really scared to take on some tough guy. But I digress.
After the game I made my way out and headed toward public transit. I had a *lovely* interaction with a guy who stared at me and then said really loudly, "Nice guns, Mama!"
I responded with, "Really, do you think so? Cool, let's go do it!"
Okay, I didn't really, duh. I also didn't pull out a couple guns and shoot the guy.
And for the record, I wasn't even wearing anything low cut or revealing or whatever. Jeans and a long sleeved shirt (green) with a hood. But I digress again.
And that concludes my "game day" report.
After the stretching I drove off to get myself showered up and have some lunch and so on. I then proceeded on a several hour journey to get myself to a hockey game. I ran into parking problems at one point and almost missed a connection. But eventually I found myself at the rink where I waited with a bunch of other early fans until the doors opened. I must have been one of the very first people through the doors. I did a quick look at some merchandise, then proceeded to check out the food and beverages. I ended up getting natchos and a Sprite (yep, I know how to have a good time!). I almost never drink Sprite, but I happened to see it and thought of Marty (Brodeur that is, not Short or Turco or Casey or....) so that's what I went with. I then proceeded to my seat. (Yes, not only do I know how to have a good time, I know how to do so all by myself. Wait. Uh... That sounded kind of kinky. Anyhoo....)
I chowed down on my natchos and took in the atmosphere as more people filed in. In the end, despite a nearly full areana, I had an empty seat on one side of me. The guys sitting on the other side I had a couple complaints about. One, the guy sits down and immediately claims both armrests. Two, they stunk. Or at least one of them did. I'm not exactly sure what it was, but I'm going to go with cigar smoke as it seemed like sitting beside a cigarette smoker times about 50. I finally smartened up and moved over a seat. Now I was beside a group of guys who were really enjoying craploads of beer. And I could tell they'd been enjoying said beer for quite some time, as they were hugging each other or otherwise demonstrating their affection for one another in a way that men (or straight ones at least) never do unless they're drunk. It was amusing.
The game itself was ok but I couldn't help but compare it to an NHL game and so it was a bit lackluster. But it was cool being in the crowd, having other people gasp at the same plays that I would and so forth. There were even some fights (on the ice). I noted that my reaction to the fights was different than usual. When watching an NHL game I get pretty into the fights. These being young hockey players (teens), I found the fights somewhat less enjoyable. Kind of brought back memories of guys fighting in high school. As a girl you sometimes felt bad for a guy who would have to fight even though he was probably really scared to take on some tough guy. But I digress.
After the game I made my way out and headed toward public transit. I had a *lovely* interaction with a guy who stared at me and then said really loudly, "Nice guns, Mama!"
I responded with, "Really, do you think so? Cool, let's go do it!"
Okay, I didn't really, duh. I also didn't pull out a couple guns and shoot the guy.
And for the record, I wasn't even wearing anything low cut or revealing or whatever. Jeans and a long sleeved shirt (green) with a hood. But I digress again.
And that concludes my "game day" report.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Game Day Diary, Part Deux
I hit the 9k mark. I check my watch, I'm making up time but I've lost way too much in the first half. (I should be running a 10k in under an hour, mind you, I didn't train for this other than the week before, which is highly wrong). Walking for just a few feet crosses my mind, this is unusual at this stage of a race (but usual when running, for me). I grit my teeth and kick on to the finish. I know I'm close when I pass the walkie talker person who relays your number to the finish so they can announce you. I sweep over the line, forget to stop my watch. I am momentarily confused by the finish clock - I looked at one for another distance (starts are at different times) and feel a frisson of disappointment to realize my watch was not wrong while I was out there running and I truly have not finished in less than an hour. I put my leg up on a bench so they can remove my chip (no, I'm not a robot, it's a timing device you wear on your shoe). A volunteer chats to me and another hands me a bottle of water. Wonderful event. I then peruse the finish line goodies, drink my water, and wait to see the times posted. 1:04:37.
I check out the scene and then check out the contents of my race package. A small bottle of Dasani water (if I'm drinking bottled, I'll pick out this brand so cool); a coupon for a running store; some cool hair elastics; a thermal beanie; Motrin and pain relief instructions; a magnet for a real estate dude; a coupon for a free bicycle tune-up (which a lot of people will want, thinking, 'sheeeeeee-it, I'm never running again! where's my bike?!'); pamphlets for assorted stuff, including an upcoming marathon in another city; more pain stuff; foot cream; and body cream, all in a "totally degradable" bag. I stretch, and then it's off to the next part of my journey....
I check out the scene and then check out the contents of my race package. A small bottle of Dasani water (if I'm drinking bottled, I'll pick out this brand so cool); a coupon for a running store; some cool hair elastics; a thermal beanie; Motrin and pain relief instructions; a magnet for a real estate dude; a coupon for a free bicycle tune-up (which a lot of people will want, thinking, 'sheeeeeee-it, I'm never running again! where's my bike?!'); pamphlets for assorted stuff, including an upcoming marathon in another city; more pain stuff; foot cream; and body cream, all in a "totally degradable" bag. I stretch, and then it's off to the next part of my journey....
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Game Day Diary
6:20 a.m. - The alarm beeps and I shut it off. I'm surprised I slept pretty well despite some interruptions and don't feel like killing anyone just to be able to get a few more minutes sleep.
(Usually I'm a bit paranoid that the alarm won't go off and so I wake up a lot, sitting up in panic to check the time).
I get up and get ready. I'm useless at eating right when I get up so I grab some Powerade (the green one, pineapple melon flavour) and a dried fruit thin.
7:00 a.m. - I drive off to where the run I'm doing will be held. I'm unsure about parking.
I'm nearing the start/finish area of the race but I keep going and end up finding a parking spot really close. I'm shocked, and very pleased.
This race is a corporate challenge event. There are various distances, I'm signed up on a team that's to do the 10k. The team itself seems to me very poorly organized (it's not my company). The team leader was kind of waffling over whether or not we'd get enough people and that was excuse enough to me to not train for the event. I emailed when the event was closer and the waffling was still there. Then about 2 days beforehand, I get a call from the team captain saying it's a go.
I'm now in the parking garage about to go off to find this woman who I barely know. I get to the congested race start area and go inside the hotel where we're supposed to meet. Not there. I check the bag check area, not there. And so on. I'm getting a little panicked because the team captain picks up the race packages. This means I have no number etc. and I'll be mighty pissed if I got up early and this doesn't come together. Finally I see the woman outside.
The event itself I discover is very well organized. I'm pleased. I've done races before where they run out of fluids at the fluid stations and that is not cool. The start/finish line has official clocks, there's music blasting, and the usual atmosphere. If you're not familiar, it's a kind of 'runners camraderie' thing going on. A lot of stretching, jogging, pinning bib numbers on and that kind of thing. And line ups for the porta potties of course. I enjoy the atmosphere, solo as my team seems to be snobby. (One woman on the team gushes about how she's really slow and she'll be last and she won't stop fretting. I'm trying to be reassuring etc. She ends up coming in 2nd in her age category. I'm sorry, but bite me you stupid be-yotch. Honestly, that's just insulting. No one who actually is slow etc. comes in 2nd in their age group at a race like this.)
The announcer comes on and starts to rev us up for the start. It's ironic, because I'm a slow runner, but I'm mentally telling myself to start slow - it's a well known fact that going out too fast early is a killer. And at big events like this one it's easy to get pumped up and not realize your pace is way fast.
As we get closer (the official clock is counting down), they put on Thunderstruck by AC/DC. Good choice. I've always found that intro to be very inspiring. So I really tell myself to watch my pace. BANG! Just as the song kicks in (nicely timed!) the starting gun goes off and we begin. In case you're not familiar with these events, the starts are packed so it takes a bit to cross the line.
I check my watch at the 1k mark. Shit! Way slow! Like over a minute past what it should be. Apparently I was so worried about being too fast I've created the opposite problem. But I don't learn from this, I still think I'd better be careful not to increase my pace too much. When I check my watch again, still way slow. Yet my pace doesn't feel slow. This is why you can't go with how it feels.
5k mark - I can't remember exactly, but I think I was at 36 or 37 minutes some odd seconds. Not good. WAAAAAY too slow. So I power it on. As I approach the 6k mark a cover band is playing a Tragically Hip song. I'm inspired. I'm a fair distance away when they start into the next song, but I can tell it's one by 54-40, cool.
As you run along on these things, people actually cheer for you. When I was somewhere around km 3 or 4, the lead male runner was passing me in the opposite direction. Damn these top people are fast. He even gets bicycle escorts. Way cool. They have signs on the bikes to tell you it's the lead guy. A ways after him come more men, singly and in packs. I'm keeping my eye out but it's a good while til the top female passes. After her comes a guy, he's yelling encouragement at me. I'm too tired to yell encouragement at other people when I'm running, sheesh.
I like the design of this course. It's not 100% out and back, but mostly, and the 1st half has a lot more uphill - the 2nd have much more downhill, awesome! The fluid stations are well run. Everything is great. Except my fuck up with my timing, but whatever. It's a beautiful day.
Can't remember exactly where, but at one fluid station they were having a little battle, the water server was trying to get me to take water, the gatordade server his wares (the gatorade silly, sheesh). The lucky winner was stoked I picked his beverage, while the water server made a last ditch effort, asking something like, 'and some water too??' I managed a grin (hell of an effort, this running shit is draining y'know).... to be continued....
(Usually I'm a bit paranoid that the alarm won't go off and so I wake up a lot, sitting up in panic to check the time).
I get up and get ready. I'm useless at eating right when I get up so I grab some Powerade (the green one, pineapple melon flavour) and a dried fruit thin.
7:00 a.m. - I drive off to where the run I'm doing will be held. I'm unsure about parking.
I'm nearing the start/finish area of the race but I keep going and end up finding a parking spot really close. I'm shocked, and very pleased.
This race is a corporate challenge event. There are various distances, I'm signed up on a team that's to do the 10k. The team itself seems to me very poorly organized (it's not my company). The team leader was kind of waffling over whether or not we'd get enough people and that was excuse enough to me to not train for the event. I emailed when the event was closer and the waffling was still there. Then about 2 days beforehand, I get a call from the team captain saying it's a go.
I'm now in the parking garage about to go off to find this woman who I barely know. I get to the congested race start area and go inside the hotel where we're supposed to meet. Not there. I check the bag check area, not there. And so on. I'm getting a little panicked because the team captain picks up the race packages. This means I have no number etc. and I'll be mighty pissed if I got up early and this doesn't come together. Finally I see the woman outside.
The event itself I discover is very well organized. I'm pleased. I've done races before where they run out of fluids at the fluid stations and that is not cool. The start/finish line has official clocks, there's music blasting, and the usual atmosphere. If you're not familiar, it's a kind of 'runners camraderie' thing going on. A lot of stretching, jogging, pinning bib numbers on and that kind of thing. And line ups for the porta potties of course. I enjoy the atmosphere, solo as my team seems to be snobby. (One woman on the team gushes about how she's really slow and she'll be last and she won't stop fretting. I'm trying to be reassuring etc. She ends up coming in 2nd in her age category. I'm sorry, but bite me you stupid be-yotch. Honestly, that's just insulting. No one who actually is slow etc. comes in 2nd in their age group at a race like this.)
The announcer comes on and starts to rev us up for the start. It's ironic, because I'm a slow runner, but I'm mentally telling myself to start slow - it's a well known fact that going out too fast early is a killer. And at big events like this one it's easy to get pumped up and not realize your pace is way fast.
As we get closer (the official clock is counting down), they put on Thunderstruck by AC/DC. Good choice. I've always found that intro to be very inspiring. So I really tell myself to watch my pace. BANG! Just as the song kicks in (nicely timed!) the starting gun goes off and we begin. In case you're not familiar with these events, the starts are packed so it takes a bit to cross the line.
I check my watch at the 1k mark. Shit! Way slow! Like over a minute past what it should be. Apparently I was so worried about being too fast I've created the opposite problem. But I don't learn from this, I still think I'd better be careful not to increase my pace too much. When I check my watch again, still way slow. Yet my pace doesn't feel slow. This is why you can't go with how it feels.
5k mark - I can't remember exactly, but I think I was at 36 or 37 minutes some odd seconds. Not good. WAAAAAY too slow. So I power it on. As I approach the 6k mark a cover band is playing a Tragically Hip song. I'm inspired. I'm a fair distance away when they start into the next song, but I can tell it's one by 54-40, cool.
As you run along on these things, people actually cheer for you. When I was somewhere around km 3 or 4, the lead male runner was passing me in the opposite direction. Damn these top people are fast. He even gets bicycle escorts. Way cool. They have signs on the bikes to tell you it's the lead guy. A ways after him come more men, singly and in packs. I'm keeping my eye out but it's a good while til the top female passes. After her comes a guy, he's yelling encouragement at me. I'm too tired to yell encouragement at other people when I'm running, sheesh.
I like the design of this course. It's not 100% out and back, but mostly, and the 1st half has a lot more uphill - the 2nd have much more downhill, awesome! The fluid stations are well run. Everything is great. Except my fuck up with my timing, but whatever. It's a beautiful day.
Can't remember exactly where, but at one fluid station they were having a little battle, the water server was trying to get me to take water, the gatordade server his wares (the gatorade silly, sheesh). The lucky winner was stoked I picked his beverage, while the water server made a last ditch effort, asking something like, 'and some water too??' I managed a grin (hell of an effort, this running shit is draining y'know).... to be continued....
Friday, August 31, 2007
Must See TV!
I had a few minutes to kill the other day. And seeing as a few minutes isn't really enough time for killing, I instead flipped through a Fall TV preview.
Now, if the world were fair, the guys at Leper Pop http://leperpop.blogspot.com/ would write a blog on this, because it would be way more funny than what I can come up with. But guess what, the world isn't fair, so for now at least, you get this.
In my defence, these previews are so bad, what could anyone possibly add to make them funnier? And by 'funnier', I of course mean 'more ridiculous'.
Even the magazine that they were featured in mentions a site http://generatorland.com/ that randomly comes up with TV show pitches and I can tell you that they sadly aren't that far off of the real tv show descriptions. In fact, I've just now decided that I will make this into an interactive game! Go ahead readers, pick which of the following shows are coming to TV screens in the Fall, and which are made up! Here goes...
Moonlight - 'a good-hearted vampire works as a private investigator, protecting humans from their evil breathren'.
Dame Nimoy - 'an alien hides from a taxidermist with a photographic memory'.
Pushing Daisies - 'a whimsical tale about a pie maker named Ned who can kill or revive people, animals, and even plants with a single touch'.
Pulling Teeth - 'a down on his luck dentist falls in love with a mannequin that came to life'.
Da Kink In My Hair - 'a group of women gather to gossip, talk about their hopes and dreams and, of course, get some good weaves'.
And if you still think TV is "da bomb", check out the song "Television, The Drug of a Nation" by the Disposable Heroes of Hiphocracy http://peoplesgeography.com/2007/08/06/television-the-drug-of-a-nation/ (video) http://artists.letssingit.com/disposable-heroes-of-hiphoprisy-television-the-drug-of-the-nation-d1dw3jc (lyrics).
Now, if the world were fair, the guys at Leper Pop http://leperpop.blogspot.com/ would write a blog on this, because it would be way more funny than what I can come up with. But guess what, the world isn't fair, so for now at least, you get this.
In my defence, these previews are so bad, what could anyone possibly add to make them funnier? And by 'funnier', I of course mean 'more ridiculous'.
Even the magazine that they were featured in mentions a site http://generatorland.com/ that randomly comes up with TV show pitches and I can tell you that they sadly aren't that far off of the real tv show descriptions. In fact, I've just now decided that I will make this into an interactive game! Go ahead readers, pick which of the following shows are coming to TV screens in the Fall, and which are made up! Here goes...
Moonlight - 'a good-hearted vampire works as a private investigator, protecting humans from their evil breathren'.
Dame Nimoy - 'an alien hides from a taxidermist with a photographic memory'.
Pushing Daisies - 'a whimsical tale about a pie maker named Ned who can kill or revive people, animals, and even plants with a single touch'.
Pulling Teeth - 'a down on his luck dentist falls in love with a mannequin that came to life'.
Da Kink In My Hair - 'a group of women gather to gossip, talk about their hopes and dreams and, of course, get some good weaves'.
And if you still think TV is "da bomb", check out the song "Television, The Drug of a Nation" by the Disposable Heroes of Hiphocracy http://peoplesgeography.com/2007/08/06/television-the-drug-of-a-nation/ (video) http://artists.letssingit.com/disposable-heroes-of-hiphoprisy-television-the-drug-of-the-nation-d1dw3jc (lyrics).
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Clean Sheet (Of Ice), Dirty Minds
A radio station in a city I lived in once used to have a contest in which they would play clips and callers had to decide if the clips were from home improvement shows or adult movies. Most of the time it was pretty silly but sometimes callers actually would get it wrong. You'd swear it was porn and it'd turn out to be home improvement.
For awhile they had a similar contest in which callers had to decide if the clip was from hockey broadcasts or adult movies. I'm not the only one who has chuckled over some of the things broadcasters say during a hockey game. "He just can't get it up!" "He's spending far too much time playing in his own end!" are just a couple of examples commonly cited.
Well today I'm watching a DVR of the Canada Russia "Super Series" and in one 30 second stretch...wow.
Here's a sampling:
8:10 - Bobrovskiy just closes his legs in time! (Been there ;)
8:17 - Giroux just slid it wide (Been there too ;)
8:23 - (Lucic) he got it up! (Finally!)
For awhile they had a similar contest in which callers had to decide if the clip was from hockey broadcasts or adult movies. I'm not the only one who has chuckled over some of the things broadcasters say during a hockey game. "He just can't get it up!" "He's spending far too much time playing in his own end!" are just a couple of examples commonly cited.
Well today I'm watching a DVR of the Canada Russia "Super Series" and in one 30 second stretch...wow.
Here's a sampling:
8:10 - Bobrovskiy just closes his legs in time! (Been there ;)
8:17 - Giroux just slid it wide (Been there too ;)
8:23 - (Lucic) he got it up! (Finally!)
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Klosterman Quotes
In a recent post, I mentioned the book "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" by Chuck Klosterman. I said it might inspire some posts. Then I remembered my laziness might prevent that. After a brief wrestling match, it appears that inspiration has, at least temporarily, won. However, laziness is sneaky, and so instead of each part of the book inspiring a post, I'm going with a quick run-through. Maybe it was a tie.
"It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box-office star in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherfucker."
I found Klosterman's whole section on John Cusack quite hilarious. And I must admit, not that I know the guy, but just going from interviews etc., Cusack seems like a cool guy and I definitely dig him (as a person, not as an actor per se). And one of my favorite movies is "Grosse Pointe Blank". But even though John Cusack ranks very high on "my list" ('celeb future husband list' would that be?!?), I see *no* reason to share a milkshake with him. Can't we each get our own damn milkshake? Sheesh. Oh, and, Klosterman goes on to say that these women are really in love with Cusack because of his Lloyd Dobler character from "Say Anything" - the epitome of ideal romance blah blah blah. Well, for the record, I have never even seen "Say Anything", and frankly I'm afraid to after hearing the way "they" talk about it. From stuff I've heard, it sounds like if I were to watch that movie it would be like some kind of drug and I could never have a relationship measure up and my whole life would somehow be screwed up. That must be one powerful movie!
Man, I did have more stuff to say but it takes too long to quote Klosterman and then go on about why I liked the quote or whatever. And I don't own the book so I can't do it at my leisure. Perhaps I should buy a copy.
"It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box-office star in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherfucker."
I found Klosterman's whole section on John Cusack quite hilarious. And I must admit, not that I know the guy, but just going from interviews etc., Cusack seems like a cool guy and I definitely dig him (as a person, not as an actor per se). And one of my favorite movies is "Grosse Pointe Blank". But even though John Cusack ranks very high on "my list" ('celeb future husband list' would that be?!?), I see *no* reason to share a milkshake with him. Can't we each get our own damn milkshake? Sheesh. Oh, and, Klosterman goes on to say that these women are really in love with Cusack because of his Lloyd Dobler character from "Say Anything" - the epitome of ideal romance blah blah blah. Well, for the record, I have never even seen "Say Anything", and frankly I'm afraid to after hearing the way "they" talk about it. From stuff I've heard, it sounds like if I were to watch that movie it would be like some kind of drug and I could never have a relationship measure up and my whole life would somehow be screwed up. That must be one powerful movie!
Man, I did have more stuff to say but it takes too long to quote Klosterman and then go on about why I liked the quote or whatever. And I don't own the book so I can't do it at my leisure. Perhaps I should buy a copy.
One Ring, One Cup (One Bourbon, One Scotch & One Beer)
I'm listening to sports radio today and I hear this rather interesting story about a Stanley Cup ring found in the waters of Mexico.
Here's a link to a print version of the story... http://news.sympatico.msn.ctv.ca/TopStories/ContentPosting.aspx?feedname=CTV-TOPSTORIES_V2&showbyline=True&newsitemid=CTVNews%2F20070823%2FStanley_Cup_Ring_070823
So they find a ring from the last time the Leafs won a Cup (1967). This reminds me of "Fifty Mission Cap" by The Tragically Hip (hockey & The Hip, does it get anymore Canadian than that...) which describes the story of Bill Barilko. (Basically, he scored an OT goal that won the Leafs the Cup - then he died - his body was recovered 11 years later which was the next time the Leafs won a Cup.)
Now, like a lot of hockey fans, I enjoy a good ribbing of the Leafs. And if you'd asked me earlier today whether they'd win a Cup anytime soon I would have laughed (no offense). But now...spooky...finding that ring is a sign! This is the year!
Here's a link to a print version of the story... http://news.sympatico.msn.ctv.ca/TopStories/ContentPosting.aspx?feedname=CTV-TOPSTORIES_V2&showbyline=True&newsitemid=CTVNews%2F20070823%2FStanley_Cup_Ring_070823
So they find a ring from the last time the Leafs won a Cup (1967). This reminds me of "Fifty Mission Cap" by The Tragically Hip (hockey & The Hip, does it get anymore Canadian than that...) which describes the story of Bill Barilko. (Basically, he scored an OT goal that won the Leafs the Cup - then he died - his body was recovered 11 years later which was the next time the Leafs won a Cup.)
Now, like a lot of hockey fans, I enjoy a good ribbing of the Leafs. And if you'd asked me earlier today whether they'd win a Cup anytime soon I would have laughed (no offense). But now...spooky...finding that ring is a sign! This is the year!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
DVD Delight
You would never know it from this blog, but I'm a hockey fan. Today I found myself pommerdoodling (see http://interchangeableparts.wordpress.com/ for a definition of this word - or just go there because IPB fucking rocks) over an interview with Trevor Linden. A little background...I once really dug Trevor Linden. Not that I really stopped, but you know how these things go. But this interview was so awesome. First of all, he's very well-spoken. Second of all, he made jokes about Le Tour, doping, cycling, and spandex (apparently Trevor rode in the Alps and did some mountain bike race in Europe in the off-season). Awesome. I think I was going to list some more reasons, but whatever.
Moving away from hockey...and back to Tour related business....today when I got to work I found that the two DVD sets (1999 and 2000 Tours) that I'd ordered had arrived. I've only just started disc 1 of the first set, but felt compelled to write about the little I've seen so far. It begins with that dude (what is his name, that commentator - ah! Phil Liggett - no idea on the spelling, sorry dude - I think Paul Sherwen - same caveat - is also featured) talking about Lance Armstrong (spelled that right, woohoo!) being on top of the world and then it crumbling as he finds out he has cancer in an advanced stage, tumours as big as golf balls in his lungs, and is told by his docs that he has a 20-50% chance to live. Phil goes on to say that actually his doctors didn't think he would live. Then there's a short interview with Lance and then the intro to the prologue starts. It shows some scenery, crowds, etc. and the credits are coming up over top. What made me chortle is that they show a little girl in a stroller in this intro, and she is totally picking her nose. It could be that it's late, I'm tired, I haven't eaten enough...but that just cracked me up. Hello???? Editors???? Proof 'watchers'???
P.S. For those of you who saw the title and thought something along the lines of, "sweet! finally the porn stuff is starting" - ha ha, fooled you again, suckers! (Just kidding...you know...)
Moving away from hockey...and back to Tour related business....today when I got to work I found that the two DVD sets (1999 and 2000 Tours) that I'd ordered had arrived. I've only just started disc 1 of the first set, but felt compelled to write about the little I've seen so far. It begins with that dude (what is his name, that commentator - ah! Phil Liggett - no idea on the spelling, sorry dude - I think Paul Sherwen - same caveat - is also featured) talking about Lance Armstrong (spelled that right, woohoo!) being on top of the world and then it crumbling as he finds out he has cancer in an advanced stage, tumours as big as golf balls in his lungs, and is told by his docs that he has a 20-50% chance to live. Phil goes on to say that actually his doctors didn't think he would live. Then there's a short interview with Lance and then the intro to the prologue starts. It shows some scenery, crowds, etc. and the credits are coming up over top. What made me chortle is that they show a little girl in a stroller in this intro, and she is totally picking her nose. It could be that it's late, I'm tired, I haven't eaten enough...but that just cracked me up. Hello???? Editors???? Proof 'watchers'???
P.S. For those of you who saw the title and thought something along the lines of, "sweet! finally the porn stuff is starting" - ha ha, fooled you again, suckers! (Just kidding...you know...)
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Another Tour de France Doping Incident
Yes, that's right, there's another in a long line of incidents.
Who is it this time, you think, as you mentally scroll through a list of names.
It's me. Yes, me. You read it here first.
You see I'm experiencing TdF withdrawal. And why does one experience withdrawal? Because one has developed a dependency. Ergo, I've been doping and it involves Le Tour.
For example, I look at my desktop of the Col du Galibier and I pine for Le Tour. I think of settling down to watch footage (wheelage?) and I experience a twittering of expectation. And this expectation of excitement is then doused by the cold, hard reality that I have no Tour to watch. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that I may still have the final leg of this year's Tour DVR'd. But still.
Now I'm depressed. I guess it's true. Dope is for dopes.
Who is it this time, you think, as you mentally scroll through a list of names.
It's me. Yes, me. You read it here first.
You see I'm experiencing TdF withdrawal. And why does one experience withdrawal? Because one has developed a dependency. Ergo, I've been doping and it involves Le Tour.
For example, I look at my desktop of the Col du Galibier and I pine for Le Tour. I think of settling down to watch footage (wheelage?) and I experience a twittering of expectation. And this expectation of excitement is then doused by the cold, hard reality that I have no Tour to watch. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that I may still have the final leg of this year's Tour DVR'd. But still.
Now I'm depressed. I guess it's true. Dope is for dopes.
Fun With Food
I was recently trying to find something for lunch. Found some homemade humous (however you spell it) and so I looked for some tortilla chips to have with it. I found a previously opened (but sealed) bag and proceeded to eat (the humous & chips, not the bag silly). After the first bite, however, it became obvious that the chips were stale. I consulted the best before date. Well past. More than a month, closer to two. So I say to the person I'm having lunch with, "I think I'm going to need to abandon chip". Yeah, I thought that was pretty clever.
A day or two before that, I was out for dinner. I ordered the gnocchi (it was quite good). The next morning I got this song in my head... "I did it all for the gnocchi, the gnocchi, so you can take your head and shove it up your ...." (to the tune of that Nookie song by Limp Bizkit.)
A day or two before that, I was out for dinner. I ordered the gnocchi (it was quite good). The next morning I got this song in my head... "I did it all for the gnocchi, the gnocchi, so you can take your head and shove it up your ...." (to the tune of that Nookie song by Limp Bizkit.)
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Culture....Only in Yogurt?
So I've been reading this book (Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs... A Low Culture Manifesto by Chuck Klosterman) and it may inspire several blog entries. This being the first. And if I don't do others, the last too. Which would make it the only. But anyway...
So I'm reading one particular chapter and I come across this...
"The most wretched people in the world are those who tell you...."
(wait for it...)
"...they like every kind of music 'except country'."
When I read this I think I actually may have blushed. Or something. I think I also looked around furtively to see if anyone knew "my secret". Which would be that I have said a variation of the above on occasion. It was sure a shock to think that *I* could be among the most wretched people in the world. I mean, I'm not always the nicest, but I think that's ok. Anyway, CK goes on to say that "People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time."
Damn, and just the other night I was saying I didn't like pretentious guys (people). Now I have to face that label possibly sticking to me along with boorish. Ouch. (He goes on to say that of course this only applies to "new" not "old" country music).
You know, this was all a lot better in my head. I think I even had a point. Oh well. Somebody else take over...
So I'm reading one particular chapter and I come across this...
"The most wretched people in the world are those who tell you...."
(wait for it...)
"...they like every kind of music 'except country'."
When I read this I think I actually may have blushed. Or something. I think I also looked around furtively to see if anyone knew "my secret". Which would be that I have said a variation of the above on occasion. It was sure a shock to think that *I* could be among the most wretched people in the world. I mean, I'm not always the nicest, but I think that's ok. Anyway, CK goes on to say that "People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time."
Damn, and just the other night I was saying I didn't like pretentious guys (people). Now I have to face that label possibly sticking to me along with boorish. Ouch. (He goes on to say that of course this only applies to "new" not "old" country music).
You know, this was all a lot better in my head. I think I even had a point. Oh well. Somebody else take over...
Monday, August 13, 2007
Did you just say...
Scene: Recently, at a party - a discussion gets around to the topic of choking...
Someone suggests doing what I hear as "The Heimlich Manoeuvre" (making perfect sense). However, another party-goer says, "did you just say *Hindlick* Manoeuvre?!"
And indeed, that is what the person had said. Needless to say, there was a fair bit of laughter and jokes made around this.
I suggested that this "Hindlick Manoeuvre" might indeed help someone to stop choking - in fact, perhaps more effectively than the Heimlich. I think I was visualizing the look on someone's face if that were to happen.
Someone suggests doing what I hear as "The Heimlich Manoeuvre" (making perfect sense). However, another party-goer says, "did you just say *Hindlick* Manoeuvre?!"
And indeed, that is what the person had said. Needless to say, there was a fair bit of laughter and jokes made around this.
I suggested that this "Hindlick Manoeuvre" might indeed help someone to stop choking - in fact, perhaps more effectively than the Heimlich. I think I was visualizing the look on someone's face if that were to happen.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Miss Remiss
I, probably like many people today (and when I say "today" I do not refer specifically to this day, but in the more general sense of "today's day and age" as they say), have several email accounts. Perhaps there are some who would question this, perhaps they would query if it would not be more simple to have one account. And to them I say, yeah, whatever.
So anyway, in one email account I had 330 new messages. I started recently to go through them. I know other people would just delete anything of lesser importance, but I have some...let's call it a quirk, that sounds like fun - rather than, say, calling it an annoying habit or compulsive behaviour...which means that I will actually go through and read/watch anything other than junk (e.g. "Increase Your Manhood!" - this last bit leads me to think of a line from the movie Dead Man on Campus, "Kick me in the junk!" but I digress, and, as usual, wildly. Yep, I'm a wild digresser.)
So where was I? Oh yes, reading through the beginnings of 330 unread messages. Which does not include ones that I quickly read as they were potentially important/time sensitive but did not turn out to be 'important or time sensitive enough' shall we say to merit my responding immediately. However, I should have responded by now. It's a wonder some of my friends haven't disowned me. Or perhaps they have, but I just haven't gotten to those emails yet. Did I just digress again? Sheesh.
And I chuckle now to think that there really isn't a point to all this anyway. I think this entry is really a metaphor for life, enjoy the journey, not the destination. Hell, if this blog turns into one of those aphorism (is that even the right word?) posters with the gay sayings (sorry, that's probably not PC, give me a break ok, I know I used the word "gay" in a negative fashion, but just let it go) and the cheesy sunrise pictures I will be forced to kill myself. Hell, wouldn't you guys chew off your own arms to escape a fate like that? Man, maybe that's what hell is...eternally trapped in a place where every room is filled with those posters. Which is funny (and when I use "funny" I sometimes mean more "ironic") because just this morning I was saying to myself (not outloud, just in my head) "you're going to hell now forsure". I wonder if anyone just perked up a bit and thought, 'hey, this has some potential, what was GB doing to say something like that?' Nothing that grandiose. Just some impure thoughts during a time that impure thoughts were probably not appropriate. But at the time the hell thing was a bit of a joke, now that I've considered the possibility of aphorism hell, I'm a bit more worried. Anyhoo... you know what, anyhoo is one of those things that I would be willing to bet I'd find super annoying. Yet I use it from time to time and it doesn't seem to annoy me really. Hmm.
Okay, I think this may be my last "point." (And yes, I use that term loosely. Very loosely. Like taking the skin of a full-grown male elephant and putting it on a person loosely. Yeah, that loosely. Behold.) So as I started out saying, I was going through the beginnings of all these unread emails and I came across one for saving money on sending flowers. It expired June 22nd. So I look more closely at the email and realize that yes, in fact the emails I'm going through are from FREAKIN' June. 330 didn't seem so bad. I thought people were just sending a lot of jokes and shit. But now...
So anyway, in one email account I had 330 new messages. I started recently to go through them. I know other people would just delete anything of lesser importance, but I have some...let's call it a quirk, that sounds like fun - rather than, say, calling it an annoying habit or compulsive behaviour...which means that I will actually go through and read/watch anything other than junk (e.g. "Increase Your Manhood!" - this last bit leads me to think of a line from the movie Dead Man on Campus, "Kick me in the junk!" but I digress, and, as usual, wildly. Yep, I'm a wild digresser.)
So where was I? Oh yes, reading through the beginnings of 330 unread messages. Which does not include ones that I quickly read as they were potentially important/time sensitive but did not turn out to be 'important or time sensitive enough' shall we say to merit my responding immediately. However, I should have responded by now. It's a wonder some of my friends haven't disowned me. Or perhaps they have, but I just haven't gotten to those emails yet. Did I just digress again? Sheesh.
And I chuckle now to think that there really isn't a point to all this anyway. I think this entry is really a metaphor for life, enjoy the journey, not the destination. Hell, if this blog turns into one of those aphorism (is that even the right word?) posters with the gay sayings (sorry, that's probably not PC, give me a break ok, I know I used the word "gay" in a negative fashion, but just let it go) and the cheesy sunrise pictures I will be forced to kill myself. Hell, wouldn't you guys chew off your own arms to escape a fate like that? Man, maybe that's what hell is...eternally trapped in a place where every room is filled with those posters. Which is funny (and when I use "funny" I sometimes mean more "ironic") because just this morning I was saying to myself (not outloud, just in my head) "you're going to hell now forsure". I wonder if anyone just perked up a bit and thought, 'hey, this has some potential, what was GB doing to say something like that?' Nothing that grandiose. Just some impure thoughts during a time that impure thoughts were probably not appropriate. But at the time the hell thing was a bit of a joke, now that I've considered the possibility of aphorism hell, I'm a bit more worried. Anyhoo... you know what, anyhoo is one of those things that I would be willing to bet I'd find super annoying. Yet I use it from time to time and it doesn't seem to annoy me really. Hmm.
Okay, I think this may be my last "point." (And yes, I use that term loosely. Very loosely. Like taking the skin of a full-grown male elephant and putting it on a person loosely. Yeah, that loosely. Behold.) So as I started out saying, I was going through the beginnings of all these unread emails and I came across one for saving money on sending flowers. It expired June 22nd. So I look more closely at the email and realize that yes, in fact the emails I'm going through are from FREAKIN' June. 330 didn't seem so bad. I thought people were just sending a lot of jokes and shit. But now...
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Blog Rating
Courtesy of comments at http://interchangeableparts.wordpress.com/, which if you haven't checked out, well....you're missing out....bigtime - so check it out... I discovered http://mingle2.com/blog-rating which will rate your blog according to the movie rating system.
So I plugged in the trusty URL of Great Blogspectations and.... (drumroll)... (envelope please)...
Great Blogspectations is rated PG-13 - Parents Strongly Cautioned - Some Material May Be Inappropriate for Children Under 13
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
fucking (3x)
fuck (2x)
pain (1x)
Oh well, better luck next time Great Blogspectations. Guess "muthafuckers" and such didn't show up. I will have to start spelling my profanities in a more proper and correct manner.
So I plugged in the trusty URL of Great Blogspectations and.... (drumroll)... (envelope please)...
Great Blogspectations is rated PG-13 - Parents Strongly Cautioned - Some Material May Be Inappropriate for Children Under 13
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
fucking (3x)
fuck (2x)
pain (1x)
Oh well, better luck next time Great Blogspectations. Guess "muthafuckers" and such didn't show up. I will have to start spelling my profanities in a more proper and correct manner.
Lament on Leaves
Just in case you're not aware, we are currently in the month of July. In the Northern Hemisphere, July is one of the months of which Summer is composed. However, today during my run, I could not help but notice that there were leaves, leaves that had changed colour, lying on the ground. Leaves changing colour and lying on the ground is considered a property of Fall (Fall, like leaves fall to the ground), otherwise known as Autumn. Now don't get me wrong, I love to run through the fallen leaves on the ground in the Fall, in fact it's a highlight of the running year and I wish we had more of the leaves & in prettier colours, like other areas in the country do. But, I lament seeing this in July. Furthermore, I do not ever recall seeing this EXCEPT IN THE FALL. Damn that Al Gore, this is one of those inconvenient truths. Damn global warming - I'm running over leaves and people in England are swimming across the street. Blimey. This is a spot of bother isn't it? I think I'll go have a cup of tea. Maybe Miss Marple can help solve this issue. Or we can just listen to Fallen Leaves by Billy Talent.
The Heckler Interjects
ALEJANDRO VALVERDE!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Remember, you should be reading that as Al-leh-han-dro!!!!! Val-vair-day!!! Say it with flourish! Like that dude from Princess Bride [I am...] but done as an over the top melodrama)(I can't help myself....it's temporary Tourette's)
What a great name....
Friday, July 20, 2007
Vive Le Tour! Part 5
Ha ha. I tricked you all. You thought I was off Le Tour but I was just hanging back in the peloton, grimacing as though I was having a rough day, while secretly plotting my big move. (Boy, we'll all be glad when the Tour is over for another year won't we).
17. The names. Like the guy I picked to win. Alejandro Valverde. AL-LEH-HAN-DRO VAL-VAIR-DEY! That's a great name. He even sounds like a winner. Although a guy I know said he sounds like a latin lover. I don't really know much about this Valverde guy, but I love his name. Yeah, this picking winners by name thing explains my great success in wagering on the ponies. But come on...Alejandro Valverde. Is it possible to be in love with a name? Is it possible that was a rhetorical question? Rhetoric. Another cool word. WTF. I think somebody slipped something into my food or drink. Anyway, there are some other cool Tour rider names but I'm gonna have to leave those out because I've decided #17 has to be about VALVERDE. Alejandro.... ah....
18. I miss Robbie McEwen. Yeah, I didn't even know this guy a week and a half ago and now I'm sad he's gone. Here's to you Robbie.
19. The team names. The announcers kind of ruined Cofidis for me. In my mind it sounded really cool but when they say it it just kind of sounds flat. However, Phil (I think) saying Liquigas is pretty funny. It always sounds to me like he's saying Leaky Gas. "The leaky gas team is...." Oh dear. And this really has nothing to do with team names but when the commentators say things like, "ohh, looks like so and so is in a *spot of bother*..." that cracks me up. Here's this guy competing in this crazy ass sporting event and they're going 'oh dear, he's in a spot of bother isn't he? shall we have a nice cuppa then?' Snort.
20. The descents. Holy fuck. Excuse my language but holy fuck. I need some stronger swearing for this. But I'm now remembering some of these Alp descents and I'm having difficulty speaking (you know, speaking through the keyboard). These professional cyclists are crazy ass mutherfuckas. Do you know how fucking fast they go downhill? Very fucking fast, that's how fast. And sometimes they screw up their line and crash. Some of those mountain descents - you go over the side, wow, it's a long way down. A long, long, long, long, long, long long, long way. I can't remember the name of the climb (the Col de something ;) ) but my stomach plummeted just watching them hit the top as the road completely fell away. Wow. Awesome descents. I was scared to death just watching.
17. The names. Like the guy I picked to win. Alejandro Valverde. AL-LEH-HAN-DRO VAL-VAIR-DEY! That's a great name. He even sounds like a winner. Although a guy I know said he sounds like a latin lover. I don't really know much about this Valverde guy, but I love his name. Yeah, this picking winners by name thing explains my great success in wagering on the ponies. But come on...Alejandro Valverde. Is it possible to be in love with a name? Is it possible that was a rhetorical question? Rhetoric. Another cool word. WTF. I think somebody slipped something into my food or drink. Anyway, there are some other cool Tour rider names but I'm gonna have to leave those out because I've decided #17 has to be about VALVERDE. Alejandro.... ah....
18. I miss Robbie McEwen. Yeah, I didn't even know this guy a week and a half ago and now I'm sad he's gone. Here's to you Robbie.
19. The team names. The announcers kind of ruined Cofidis for me. In my mind it sounded really cool but when they say it it just kind of sounds flat. However, Phil (I think) saying Liquigas is pretty funny. It always sounds to me like he's saying Leaky Gas. "The leaky gas team is...." Oh dear. And this really has nothing to do with team names but when the commentators say things like, "ohh, looks like so and so is in a *spot of bother*..." that cracks me up. Here's this guy competing in this crazy ass sporting event and they're going 'oh dear, he's in a spot of bother isn't he? shall we have a nice cuppa then?' Snort.
20. The descents. Holy fuck. Excuse my language but holy fuck. I need some stronger swearing for this. But I'm now remembering some of these Alp descents and I'm having difficulty speaking (you know, speaking through the keyboard). These professional cyclists are crazy ass mutherfuckas. Do you know how fucking fast they go downhill? Very fucking fast, that's how fast. And sometimes they screw up their line and crash. Some of those mountain descents - you go over the side, wow, it's a long way down. A long, long, long, long, long, long long, long way. I can't remember the name of the climb (the Col de something ;) ) but my stomach plummeted just watching them hit the top as the road completely fell away. Wow. Awesome descents. I was scared to death just watching.
We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...
Must be a rest day for the Tour posts.
So here's a snippet from a conversation I had recently...
Them: So I watched this show about this guy who kidnapped women blah blah blah. He would give them pedophiles and paint their toenails and stuff and (xe keeps talking...)
Me: Uh, did you just say "give them *pedophiles*"?
T: (laughing) Yeah, I did. See, I told you I do stuff like that. I meant pedicures...
M: No kidding.
The conversation continued and we got to the point where we were saying our goodbyes....
T: Have a great day!
M: You too.
T: Go get yourself a pedophile!
M: (Shaking head)
So here's a snippet from a conversation I had recently...
Them: So I watched this show about this guy who kidnapped women blah blah blah. He would give them pedophiles and paint their toenails and stuff and (xe keeps talking...)
Me: Uh, did you just say "give them *pedophiles*"?
T: (laughing) Yeah, I did. See, I told you I do stuff like that. I meant pedicures...
M: No kidding.
The conversation continued and we got to the point where we were saying our goodbyes....
T: Have a great day!
M: You too.
T: Go get yourself a pedophile!
M: (Shaking head)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Vive Le Tour! Part 4
Wow, these Tour posts are starting to rival the number of stages of the Tour de France.
13. Like taking a trip without leaving the house. I've enjoyed seeing the scenery of the various areas. The aerial shots can be quite spectacular and the broadcasts give some history and so forth.
14. The combination of team and individual in this sport. Each rider is part of a team but there is also a lot of individual stuff that goes on. I suppose you could say the same is true of any other team sport, except that sometimes a group of individuals from different teams will work together. Basically the strategy determines what will happen, so two riders might help one another at one point and do the opposite at another.
15. The different jerseys. By this I mean not only is there the famous "maillot jaune" for the race leader (which can switch backs each day) but also a polka dot king of the mountains jersey (polka dots though??!) and a green jersey and a white jersey for best virgin. (Ok, that last part wasn't *totally* true).
16. Sprints. The sprints at the finish are something to behold. Sometimes parts of the stages can get pretty boring, but near the end it's a crazy mass of bikes and bodies. This can't be captured in words, you need to see it.
13. Like taking a trip without leaving the house. I've enjoyed seeing the scenery of the various areas. The aerial shots can be quite spectacular and the broadcasts give some history and so forth.
14. The combination of team and individual in this sport. Each rider is part of a team but there is also a lot of individual stuff that goes on. I suppose you could say the same is true of any other team sport, except that sometimes a group of individuals from different teams will work together. Basically the strategy determines what will happen, so two riders might help one another at one point and do the opposite at another.
15. The different jerseys. By this I mean not only is there the famous "maillot jaune" for the race leader (which can switch backs each day) but also a polka dot king of the mountains jersey (polka dots though??!) and a green jersey and a white jersey for best virgin. (Ok, that last part wasn't *totally* true).
16. Sprints. The sprints at the finish are something to behold. Sometimes parts of the stages can get pretty boring, but near the end it's a crazy mass of bikes and bodies. This can't be captured in words, you need to see it.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Vive Le Tour! Part 3
9. This sporting event has it all. I've talked about the toughness, the speed, etc., but it also includes eating! Eating is so important, in fact, that on the route map they show the t.v. viewers they include the location of the feed stations. Here people stand with feedbags that the cyclist must grab while zipping by. (And they also must try not to end a sentence with a preposition, all at the same time!) And these cyclists throw stuff into the crowd when they're done with it (e.g. water bottles). I'm just picturing the gleeful dreamlike state I would be in for 2 weeks after the following transpires (screen goes wavy, back in time music)....
TdF cyclist: "Zut! Triple ZUT! Zeye deed not order ze tuna! I vanted ze egg! Ze egg dammit!"
In utter disgust he hucks his tuna sandwich into the crowd. It goes sailing at speeds like that of a baseball pitch but for one GB it is spinning end over end in slow motion. Fascinated, she stares, nay, she gapes, open mouthed, eyes as big as saucers, no - as big as dinner plates! as the sandwich comes ever closer. In the last instance, time returns to normal speed and WHAP! the sandwich smacks her smartly in the forehead, leaving a red mark and a light tuna residue. She picks it up, holds it in her hands, delirious. And for the next 2 weeks she walks around in this state. Except she doesn't hold the sandwich for the whole 2 weeks, that would be gross. Instead she has it coated protectively, like Han Solo frozen in carbonite, and it sits proudly in her sports shrine in a place of special honour from then on. (Fucking prepositions).
And imagine the story she will tell, no party, no social gathering will ever pass without "hey, you know what happened to me once...."
10. Did I mention the scenery yet? I can't remember. This blog moves as fast as a moderately fast stage. But anyway, in one shot in an early stage, they showed this castle. With a moat. I think I'm in love. I am in love. This is my dream to have a place like this. (I am a rock...I am an issssssssland....). A moat! That's too f'ing cool. If there had been a fire-breathing dragon I probably would have collapsed in utter glee. Perhaps if I could afford the castle I would have enough to get me a fire breathing dragon. Or at least one that could get a few flames out every once in awhile.
11. The changing route. Yes, I was that naive re: the tour that I didn't realize it wasn't the same all the time. Oops. But now that I do know, I find this pretty cool. In one way it would be cool to have the exact same route, but it's also kind of neat to shake things up, keep it fresh (like my carbonite tuna sandwich).
12. No weather cancellations. Sweet. See the entry about tough. These athletes don't mess around. Rain delays are for pussies. (That sounded wrong somehow). I hear at one of the shortly upcoming alps stages (maybe they've even started it, I'm a little behind on my watching) there was snow the other day.
TdF cyclist: "Zut! Triple ZUT! Zeye deed not order ze tuna! I vanted ze egg! Ze egg dammit!"
In utter disgust he hucks his tuna sandwich into the crowd. It goes sailing at speeds like that of a baseball pitch but for one GB it is spinning end over end in slow motion. Fascinated, she stares, nay, she gapes, open mouthed, eyes as big as saucers, no - as big as dinner plates! as the sandwich comes ever closer. In the last instance, time returns to normal speed and WHAP! the sandwich smacks her smartly in the forehead, leaving a red mark and a light tuna residue. She picks it up, holds it in her hands, delirious. And for the next 2 weeks she walks around in this state. Except she doesn't hold the sandwich for the whole 2 weeks, that would be gross. Instead she has it coated protectively, like Han Solo frozen in carbonite, and it sits proudly in her sports shrine in a place of special honour from then on. (Fucking prepositions).
And imagine the story she will tell, no party, no social gathering will ever pass without "hey, you know what happened to me once...."
10. Did I mention the scenery yet? I can't remember. This blog moves as fast as a moderately fast stage. But anyway, in one shot in an early stage, they showed this castle. With a moat. I think I'm in love. I am in love. This is my dream to have a place like this. (I am a rock...I am an issssssssland....). A moat! That's too f'ing cool. If there had been a fire-breathing dragon I probably would have collapsed in utter glee. Perhaps if I could afford the castle I would have enough to get me a fire breathing dragon. Or at least one that could get a few flames out every once in awhile.
11. The changing route. Yes, I was that naive re: the tour that I didn't realize it wasn't the same all the time. Oops. But now that I do know, I find this pretty cool. In one way it would be cool to have the exact same route, but it's also kind of neat to shake things up, keep it fresh (like my carbonite tuna sandwich).
12. No weather cancellations. Sweet. See the entry about tough. These athletes don't mess around. Rain delays are for pussies. (That sounded wrong somehow). I hear at one of the shortly upcoming alps stages (maybe they've even started it, I'm a little behind on my watching) there was snow the other day.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Vive Le Tour! Part 2
5. Robbie McEwen's finish line victory move. They had a little segment on where he got the idea from but at any rate, I was somewhat amused. He does these arm motions like he's running really fast.
6. The involvement of the spectators. They get in the way sometimes which I find funny - can you imagine a pitcher trying to throw a ball around a spectator? A hockey player getting his stick ripped from his hands by a spectator? And for a sport in which the athletes speed by you in moments, it's pretty cool that fans line the roads like that.
7. The toughness. This is a biggie. Nothing against soccer, but when you watch the best in the world writhing around on the field and then getting up as though nothing has happened...
The Tour is like hockey - these guys have these crazy crashes and get all beat up and still continue on unless they are absolutely unable to. Not to mention just the normal pain of riding that far for that long, day after day. Impressive.
8. As one of the commentators puts it (Phil Leggett??) 'we don't want to see crashes but they sure make for good t.v.'. Sure, I don't wish these guys to have terrible crashes and have to withdraw or get seriously injured, but WOW, those crashes are something else. Refer back to point # 7 - these guys are TOUGH.
There is so much more to come...we haven't even gotten into the mountains yet (more dumb TdF "humour").
6. The involvement of the spectators. They get in the way sometimes which I find funny - can you imagine a pitcher trying to throw a ball around a spectator? A hockey player getting his stick ripped from his hands by a spectator? And for a sport in which the athletes speed by you in moments, it's pretty cool that fans line the roads like that.
7. The toughness. This is a biggie. Nothing against soccer, but when you watch the best in the world writhing around on the field and then getting up as though nothing has happened...
The Tour is like hockey - these guys have these crazy crashes and get all beat up and still continue on unless they are absolutely unable to. Not to mention just the normal pain of riding that far for that long, day after day. Impressive.
8. As one of the commentators puts it (Phil Leggett??) 'we don't want to see crashes but they sure make for good t.v.'. Sure, I don't wish these guys to have terrible crashes and have to withdraw or get seriously injured, but WOW, those crashes are something else. Refer back to point # 7 - these guys are TOUGH.
There is so much more to come...we haven't even gotten into the mountains yet (more dumb TdF "humour").
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Vive Le Tour! Part 1
So I read some of Lance Armstrong's books and he made the Tour de France sound pretty exciting (even though his books don't even focus much on that). So last year (?) (& 2 years ago?) I watched some and was a bit disappointed that it didn't come across quite the same as Lance's descriptions. But there was something there that seemed to have potential so I had thought I'd have to tune in the next year and *really* follow it. So when I saw the ad for the upcoming Tour, I made a note and have been PVRing the broadcasts. There are moments I find rather dull, but I've also kind of fallen for it. Here's a few reasons why...
1. The beauty of the peloton. Especially the aerial shots. Rainbow of colours.
2. How difficult a sporting event it is. I think this year it's about 2,200 miles, including riding over MOUNTAINS.
3. The multinational aspects. For example, teams consists of riders from various countries rather than other sports where particular countries compete against one another. Today I learned that the prizes are in euros (due to the European Union) but the fines are in Swiss Francs (because the governing body is in Switzerland which apparently uses it's own currency still). I just find that funny/cool/interesting. (You know, this post was a lot funnier/cooler/more interesting in my head).
4. The speed involved. On bikes going 40+k/25+mph. Wow. It makes me think of when you watch world class marthoners. They are holding a pace that is the equivalent to my sprint pace, but over 26.2 miles! WTF!?! That's messed up.
Well that's the prologue complete. Look for more stages to follow... (that's some TdF humour)
1. The beauty of the peloton. Especially the aerial shots. Rainbow of colours.
2. How difficult a sporting event it is. I think this year it's about 2,200 miles, including riding over MOUNTAINS.
3. The multinational aspects. For example, teams consists of riders from various countries rather than other sports where particular countries compete against one another. Today I learned that the prizes are in euros (due to the European Union) but the fines are in Swiss Francs (because the governing body is in Switzerland which apparently uses it's own currency still). I just find that funny/cool/interesting. (You know, this post was a lot funnier/cooler/more interesting in my head).
4. The speed involved. On bikes going 40+k/25+mph. Wow. It makes me think of when you watch world class marthoners. They are holding a pace that is the equivalent to my sprint pace, but over 26.2 miles! WTF!?! That's messed up.
Well that's the prologue complete. Look for more stages to follow... (that's some TdF humour)
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Musing on Mousse
Awhile ago I ran out of mousse (for my hair - not the chocolate kind, who'd ever run out of that?!) so I went to get more. I found the same kind but with a new name/packaging. So I adopted a bottle by paying the adoption fee and brought it to its' new home. No more having to sit on a shelf with all kinds of other mousse and hair care products - now it would have a brand new home on top of my dresser. (That's a set of drawers that you keep clothes in, not a person who dresses me - although the latter might be kind of cool).
Now you may be thinking, wow, like the shoe thing wasn't bad enough, now we're reading drivel about your hair product buying and, to add insult to injury, just when we think it has potential because you allude to having a personal dresser, we find out it's just a chest of drawers. But, just like when you bring a puppy home from the pound, my mousse adoption didn't go entirely smoothly....
The first time I went to use it, I could not get any mousse to come out. Eventually it did work but I had a fleeting thought about how healthy that was - fleeting image of an explosion due to a glitch in the packaging or something. I did consider returning the mousse and bringing home a different one, but I didn't want to hurt the mousse's feelings. How nice is that being replaced so callously?
Time went by and my mousse seemed to become more coooperative. I think I forgot about the exploding possibilities. They became just a distant echo in the recesses of my mind. And eventually found out what else was lurking there and got too scared to even echo.
But then, the other night, I was getting ready to head out for the evening and my mousse again refused to cooperate. This is frustrating to me. I'm not one of those people who spends a lot of time doing their hair. I spray in leave in conditioner, I put in the mousse, and then myself and my wet hair hit the road. My entire hair doing routine takes a minute (I know, that's probably nothing to brag about. It reminds me of a friend... someone would say [proudly] "I got this haircut for $6!" and my friend would say [with a glorious expression on xe's face], "There's no need to point out the obvious." Ha ha, BURN! But anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming. I'm sure the suspense is killing you.) So the reason I mention my quick hair routine is that once that mousse goes in, the hair part of getting ready is done, so when it doesn't work, this is an irksome delay.
So I fiddle with the mousse bottle, trying to make it work. All of a sudden there's this weird noise - kind of a compressed air suddenly being released kind of noise - and I think I see something tiny go flying across the room and then the mousse works. That is to say that my hand is suddenly filled with mousse. Now it's probably a good amount to use, but I generally go pretty easy with the mousse. Got up the next morning and my hair pretty much still looked done, guess that's alright. But the point is, I'm a bit concerned that the mousse bottle will one day explode and my face will be filled with shrapnel. Besides the obvious suckitude (I think I stole that word) of that, oh! the disfigurement!, I would then be traumatized and going into a drugstore or hair salon would make me fall to the ground, flailing wildy & screaming while intermittently yelling, "take cover! take cover!" while other patrons worriedly grabbed their children to shepherd them away from the crazy person waxing the floor with her own body. And I'm sure my hair would look terrible too, just increasing the crazy person image. Then I'd probably end up in a mental institution, rocking in the corner while self-flagellating with a hairbrush.
Now you may be thinking, wow, like the shoe thing wasn't bad enough, now we're reading drivel about your hair product buying and, to add insult to injury, just when we think it has potential because you allude to having a personal dresser, we find out it's just a chest of drawers. But, just like when you bring a puppy home from the pound, my mousse adoption didn't go entirely smoothly....
The first time I went to use it, I could not get any mousse to come out. Eventually it did work but I had a fleeting thought about how healthy that was - fleeting image of an explosion due to a glitch in the packaging or something. I did consider returning the mousse and bringing home a different one, but I didn't want to hurt the mousse's feelings. How nice is that being replaced so callously?
Time went by and my mousse seemed to become more coooperative. I think I forgot about the exploding possibilities. They became just a distant echo in the recesses of my mind. And eventually found out what else was lurking there and got too scared to even echo.
But then, the other night, I was getting ready to head out for the evening and my mousse again refused to cooperate. This is frustrating to me. I'm not one of those people who spends a lot of time doing their hair. I spray in leave in conditioner, I put in the mousse, and then myself and my wet hair hit the road. My entire hair doing routine takes a minute (I know, that's probably nothing to brag about. It reminds me of a friend... someone would say [proudly] "I got this haircut for $6!" and my friend would say [with a glorious expression on xe's face], "There's no need to point out the obvious." Ha ha, BURN! But anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming. I'm sure the suspense is killing you.) So the reason I mention my quick hair routine is that once that mousse goes in, the hair part of getting ready is done, so when it doesn't work, this is an irksome delay.
So I fiddle with the mousse bottle, trying to make it work. All of a sudden there's this weird noise - kind of a compressed air suddenly being released kind of noise - and I think I see something tiny go flying across the room and then the mousse works. That is to say that my hand is suddenly filled with mousse. Now it's probably a good amount to use, but I generally go pretty easy with the mousse. Got up the next morning and my hair pretty much still looked done, guess that's alright. But the point is, I'm a bit concerned that the mousse bottle will one day explode and my face will be filled with shrapnel. Besides the obvious suckitude (I think I stole that word) of that, oh! the disfigurement!, I would then be traumatized and going into a drugstore or hair salon would make me fall to the ground, flailing wildy & screaming while intermittently yelling, "take cover! take cover!" while other patrons worriedly grabbed their children to shepherd them away from the crazy person waxing the floor with her own body. And I'm sure my hair would look terrible too, just increasing the crazy person image. Then I'd probably end up in a mental institution, rocking in the corner while self-flagellating with a hairbrush.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Life Ring
After my attempted drowing (http://blogspectations.blogspot.com/2007/06/fool-in-rain.html), I was out on the same route with a walking partner. We encountered a section that was packed with parked cars - a garage sale (sans garage) - I guess that makes it a yard sale. Whatever, let's not get lost in the details. As we walk past, he points out one of those big red life preserver things - mocking me for having been nearly drowned. So I told him my take on the 911 conversation (commentor Sid inspired my comment in the Fool in the Rain post). He was quite amused. Now I'm wondering if that whole yard sale was inspired by my near drowning. Can't you just see it?.....
"Maude" Honey, we should really have a yard sale. We have no use for so much of this stuff and others could benefit! We'll have less clutter AND we'll have helped other people get something they could use.
"Maude's Partner" Come on dear, this is a bunch of junk. Face facts. No one wants any of this crap.
"M" Oh really?! What about that poor girl who ran by the other day. She nearly drowned! You don't think she could've used that life preserver from your father's boat???
"MP" (grudgingly) I suppose you have a point there. Sigh. Let's do it then.
"M" I'll make some signs!
"Maude" Honey, we should really have a yard sale. We have no use for so much of this stuff and others could benefit! We'll have less clutter AND we'll have helped other people get something they could use.
"Maude's Partner" Come on dear, this is a bunch of junk. Face facts. No one wants any of this crap.
"M" Oh really?! What about that poor girl who ran by the other day. She nearly drowned! You don't think she could've used that life preserver from your father's boat???
"MP" (grudgingly) I suppose you have a point there. Sigh. Let's do it then.
"M" I'll make some signs!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Madcap Movies
This may need to be a regular blog feature...
I am scanning through what's on t.v. I click info to see the descriptions of movies. One catches my eye and inspired this...
The title is Sassy Sue. That sounds pretty bad right there...I'm not sure I can even articulate why (and I shouldn't need to, I mean, c'mon!). Sassy Sue?! Sounds like porno-light or something. But that's not my point. Here's the description...
"A chicken farmer seems to spend too much time with his prize cow."
Okay, for starters, a movie about a chicken farmer with a prize cow. Like that's not enough right there. But secondly, the word "seems". He "seems" to spend too much time with his cow? Wow.
I'm tempted to watch this movie just because of the crazy-ass description. That would be taking one for the team. I'm not sure I can manage it. We'll see.
I am scanning through what's on t.v. I click info to see the descriptions of movies. One catches my eye and inspired this...
The title is Sassy Sue. That sounds pretty bad right there...I'm not sure I can even articulate why (and I shouldn't need to, I mean, c'mon!). Sassy Sue?! Sounds like porno-light or something. But that's not my point. Here's the description...
"A chicken farmer seems to spend too much time with his prize cow."
Okay, for starters, a movie about a chicken farmer with a prize cow. Like that's not enough right there. But secondly, the word "seems". He "seems" to spend too much time with his cow? Wow.
I'm tempted to watch this movie just because of the crazy-ass description. That would be taking one for the team. I'm not sure I can manage it. We'll see.
Fool in the Rain
Yes, it's a very favourite Zeppelin song, and it's also the subject of today's blog.
So I go out for a run - the weather has been a bit confused, but it seems pretty good, lots of patches of blue sky and sun. Very quickly that goes away. No big deal.
It starts to drizzle. No big deal.
Pretty soon it's raining steadily. Not such a big deal.
I think you can see where this is headed...
It starts moving into the realm of pouring. And I mean pouring. I'm wearing a light running jacket and the arms are soaked through (ick) so once I'm at the point where I move from walking to running I take it off and tie it around my waist. I wonder how many people were driving by and thinking, "you idiot! you have a jacket, why aren't you wearing it!?"
Pretty soon I am soaked. I mean like I've been in the shower with clothes on (and yes, I would know, so there, shut it). I can feel the weight of my sopping clothing. Hey, this is good right? It's like running with weights. What a workout! I know it must be bad because someone driving by slows down and lowers the window to offer me a ride.
The rain continues - now torrential. I get even more soaked. Other than a couple of dry(ish) patches here and there, I now look like I've definitely been in the shower, but more likely in the bath. If it were horse racing 'bath' would be 3-1 and 'shower' would be 15-1.
A fire department vehicle going the other direction stops, the man driving offers me a ride. (Let me clarify, this isn't a fire truck on it's way to a fire or anything, it's just a vehicle painted in red that says Fire Department-whatever stuff all over it and has sirens and shit.) The guy driving calls me ma'am. Hey buddy, you are way older than me, cool it with the ma'am stuff. He also is snarky, all, "guess you need a ride huh, dumb twit got caught in the rain" type of thing. I am super polite but decline. I'm in running gear with headphones and the whole bit, I'm not running with a newspaper over my head to the closest shelter here, c'mon. Anyway, I think the only reason he offered me a ride was because he saw how soaked I was and went, "hey, she could put out a fire like nobody's business! Throw her on there and vooomffff, flames gone! The chief will give me a promotion if I bring in this sure-fire (no pun intended?) human extinguisher." Sorry about the promotion buddy. Better luck next time.
I continued on with my regular route, not really minding the soaked-ness that much. In truth, my main concern was, hmmm, just how see-through would my shirt be right now? That particular issue took up a fair bit of my attention. Especially as it seemed that for some reason the traffic level was higher than usual. And I was wearing a pale coloured t-shirt.
I made it home, having somehow managed to get even more soaked by that point. As I walked inside I could hear that "squoosh squooosh" noise. I looked in the mirror, observed the level of see through, decided it wasn't great but that I would be able to show my face again (preferably only my face in the future though) and struggled to remove my wet clothing. I kid you not, my little t shirt weighed about 5lbs. After I finished my arms hurt. Honestly. Like, more than they do after the gym. Yeah, how sad is that.
So I go out for a run - the weather has been a bit confused, but it seems pretty good, lots of patches of blue sky and sun. Very quickly that goes away. No big deal.
It starts to drizzle. No big deal.
Pretty soon it's raining steadily. Not such a big deal.
I think you can see where this is headed...
It starts moving into the realm of pouring. And I mean pouring. I'm wearing a light running jacket and the arms are soaked through (ick) so once I'm at the point where I move from walking to running I take it off and tie it around my waist. I wonder how many people were driving by and thinking, "you idiot! you have a jacket, why aren't you wearing it!?"
Pretty soon I am soaked. I mean like I've been in the shower with clothes on (and yes, I would know, so there, shut it). I can feel the weight of my sopping clothing. Hey, this is good right? It's like running with weights. What a workout! I know it must be bad because someone driving by slows down and lowers the window to offer me a ride.
The rain continues - now torrential. I get even more soaked. Other than a couple of dry(ish) patches here and there, I now look like I've definitely been in the shower, but more likely in the bath. If it were horse racing 'bath' would be 3-1 and 'shower' would be 15-1.
A fire department vehicle going the other direction stops, the man driving offers me a ride. (Let me clarify, this isn't a fire truck on it's way to a fire or anything, it's just a vehicle painted in red that says Fire Department-whatever stuff all over it and has sirens and shit.) The guy driving calls me ma'am. Hey buddy, you are way older than me, cool it with the ma'am stuff. He also is snarky, all, "guess you need a ride huh, dumb twit got caught in the rain" type of thing. I am super polite but decline. I'm in running gear with headphones and the whole bit, I'm not running with a newspaper over my head to the closest shelter here, c'mon. Anyway, I think the only reason he offered me a ride was because he saw how soaked I was and went, "hey, she could put out a fire like nobody's business! Throw her on there and vooomffff, flames gone! The chief will give me a promotion if I bring in this sure-fire (no pun intended?) human extinguisher." Sorry about the promotion buddy. Better luck next time.
I continued on with my regular route, not really minding the soaked-ness that much. In truth, my main concern was, hmmm, just how see-through would my shirt be right now? That particular issue took up a fair bit of my attention. Especially as it seemed that for some reason the traffic level was higher than usual. And I was wearing a pale coloured t-shirt.
I made it home, having somehow managed to get even more soaked by that point. As I walked inside I could hear that "squoosh squooosh" noise. I looked in the mirror, observed the level of see through, decided it wasn't great but that I would be able to show my face again (preferably only my face in the future though) and struggled to remove my wet clothing. I kid you not, my little t shirt weighed about 5lbs. After I finished my arms hurt. Honestly. Like, more than they do after the gym. Yeah, how sad is that.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The Lights Are On - Is Anybody Home?
This event occurred many years ago so I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. Not that they matter anyway.
Awaiting a visitor that was going to pick us up and take us...somewhere (see above).
Time kept on ticking, ticking, ticking, into the future (ok, I totally stole that) and we were wondering where this person was. Well, more accurately, we weren't really wondering where xe was but why xe was not where xe was supposed to be, which was picking us up.
I can't remember why we decided to check outside, but we did. And to what did our wandering eyes appear (yep, stole that too)? The very person we were waiting for, sitting there in her car. WTF?
We are puzzled. We walk up to the car, the woman looks rather cranky, and as we ask, "why didn't you ring the doorbell?!?" she blurts out, "well I kept coming up to the door to do so, then you'd flash the light to signal me so I'd get back in the car, and then you buggers kept doing it to me over and over!" She announces this is an immensely frustrated tone. We are flabbergasted. Flashing the light at you! Oh dear. We then had to explain that the 'light we were flashing' is this new fangled technology, something called a sen-sor light (we couldn't help but be sarcastic now could we - notice how I didn't put a question mark at the end of that, obviously we couldn't, that was rhetorical, I mean come on).
Ah, I laugh even now thinking about it.
Awaiting a visitor that was going to pick us up and take us...somewhere (see above).
Time kept on ticking, ticking, ticking, into the future (ok, I totally stole that) and we were wondering where this person was. Well, more accurately, we weren't really wondering where xe was but why xe was not where xe was supposed to be, which was picking us up.
I can't remember why we decided to check outside, but we did. And to what did our wandering eyes appear (yep, stole that too)? The very person we were waiting for, sitting there in her car. WTF?
We are puzzled. We walk up to the car, the woman looks rather cranky, and as we ask, "why didn't you ring the doorbell?!?" she blurts out, "well I kept coming up to the door to do so, then you'd flash the light to signal me so I'd get back in the car, and then you buggers kept doing it to me over and over!" She announces this is an immensely frustrated tone. We are flabbergasted. Flashing the light at you! Oh dear. We then had to explain that the 'light we were flashing' is this new fangled technology, something called a sen-sor light (we couldn't help but be sarcastic now could we - notice how I didn't put a question mark at the end of that, obviously we couldn't, that was rhetorical, I mean come on).
Ah, I laugh even now thinking about it.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
"The Pedestrian, 2003"
I watched a strange movie recently. The Pedestrian.
The description I saw before watching said something about a traffic light controller searching for love through looking at people's feet. Something like that. It sounded quirky.
So it turns out that the main character has a serious foot fetish. He goes to the mall and pretends to be a researcher so he can ask "survey" questions to women about their feet and shoes. I almost stopped watching at that point. No offense foot fetishists.
But I didn't stop watching and it got worse from there. Yes, be warned, there was a gratuitous 'masturbation to his shoe altar' scene. ***Breaking Great Blogspectations Programming Note*** It is at this moment that I suddenly thought to myself, holy freakin' crap, this is &^%$&*# about shoes again! This is ceasing to be a "oh ha ha, what a coincidence" thing and turning into a "how come shoes keep cropping up into everything i'm starting to really get scared oh but that's silly you're overreacting it's nothing but ohmigod why" thing. ARGH.
So where was I? Right, the shoe freak. OH HELL, I meant the guy in the movie. This is just creepy now. So I was going to continue on with describing the plot of the movie but I just don't even want to now. Stupid shoes. (Stomps off, muttering to self....)
The description I saw before watching said something about a traffic light controller searching for love through looking at people's feet. Something like that. It sounded quirky.
So it turns out that the main character has a serious foot fetish. He goes to the mall and pretends to be a researcher so he can ask "survey" questions to women about their feet and shoes. I almost stopped watching at that point. No offense foot fetishists.
But I didn't stop watching and it got worse from there. Yes, be warned, there was a gratuitous 'masturbation to his shoe altar' scene. ***Breaking Great Blogspectations Programming Note*** It is at this moment that I suddenly thought to myself, holy freakin' crap, this is &^%$&*# about shoes again! This is ceasing to be a "oh ha ha, what a coincidence" thing and turning into a "how come shoes keep cropping up into everything i'm starting to really get scared oh but that's silly you're overreacting it's nothing but ohmigod why" thing. ARGH.
So where was I? Right, the shoe freak. OH HELL, I meant the guy in the movie. This is just creepy now. So I was going to continue on with describing the plot of the movie but I just don't even want to now. Stupid shoes. (Stomps off, muttering to self....)
Saturday, June 23, 2007
The Elastic Oh-no Band
So I'm putting my hair into a ponytail. I reach for an elastic band and it's a real old one, all stretched out. I think to myself, you should just throw this one out, use a newer one. Then some other part of myself (the cheap part? the lazy part? the part that does not want to be labelled, so quit it!) argues the first part out of it. So with one hand I have my hair gathered and I go to affix the elastic (fascinating detail about putting your hair up, thanks so much - eye roll) and it SNAPS. I was already in a bit of a cranky mood, so I didn't think too much about it, but it seemed to me there was some sort of life lesson there.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Shoe-na-bomber
This is pretty random. I got to thinking about some things that I don't like. Silly things that can be annoying. I should probably have a Top 10 list or something, but all I have are 2 1/2 things. Yeah, that's right, 2 1/2.
1) I'm not cool enough (or lame enough, take your pick) to know what these shoes are called, but I've been seeing a plethora of them and I just don't see the attraction. Please see exhibit A (I found the picture on the internet, I apologize profusely if I have violated any copyright laws or anything like that).
Exhibit A
2) F-bombs. I don't know why, but this one just aggravates me. "He was peppering the conversation with F-bombs..." "This guy drops enough F-bombs..." Stop it. LAME.
1/2) That I have somehow managed YET AGAIN to talk about shoes. How?!? Whyyyyyyyyy?!?
1) I'm not cool enough (or lame enough, take your pick) to know what these shoes are called, but I've been seeing a plethora of them and I just don't see the attraction. Please see exhibit A (I found the picture on the internet, I apologize profusely if I have violated any copyright laws or anything like that).
Exhibit A2) F-bombs. I don't know why, but this one just aggravates me. "He was peppering the conversation with F-bombs..." "This guy drops enough F-bombs..." Stop it. LAME.
1/2) That I have somehow managed YET AGAIN to talk about shoes. How?!? Whyyyyyyyyy?!?
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
Don't worry, despite what the title might imply I haven't gotten in a lover's spat and killed said lover.
Nor am I writing this posthoumously because of being the one killed in a spat by said lover.
And no, I wasn't summing up quick foreplay followed by quick sex in 2 words x 2 with a comma in between either.
And no, this isn't a review of a recent adult film. I mean, yes, it is, keep reading!
In fact, the title refers to a television program featuring short films. I watched 3.
First one was called, 'How To Tell A Relationship is Over'. I put that title in single quotes because I later saw it listed as 'How To Tell A Relationship is Over in 90 Seconds'. But I think we can all rest assured that the film is about the signs that a relationship is over. Moving on (ha ha). This one was very short (but more than 90 seconds unless my sense of time is really skewed - maybe the film shows that the relationship is actually over after only 90 seconds and the rest is just showing the...what's the word I'm looking for here...the beating of a dead horse). Quick vignettes of a couple in a kitchen interspersed with black screen shots with phrases such as "Now It's War." (I'm not sure I should have quoted that either, it may not be 100% accurate. But you get the drift.) [Where does the punctuation go, in the bracket? Outside of it? I don't care to be honest, deal with it]. It kind of reminded me of that Pina Colada song but without the happy ending. This couples personal's ads didn't rekindle the magic as far as I could tell. Oh, one of the phrases featured on the black screen shot was something like, "Finding The Dead Pigeon" (oh bloody hell, that should be in single quotes I suppose but screw it - the punctuation/quotation I mean, not the dead pigeon, what kind of freak are you?? Sheesh). It then flashed to the couple in the kitchen staring at a dead pigeon, poking it (with a pencil I think it was) and declaring that it was dead. I suppose that was put in to illustrate some sort of symbiosis with their relationship but whatever. I kind of like thinking of it as random, because inserting the dead pigeon bit into any film surely makes for great comedy. (And I dislike when people overanalyze novels or movies, making every little thing into some grand theme - I am struck by the way the author of this post's use of single quotes mirrors the breakdown of the couple -the double quotes-....yeah, I'm kidding).
Second short was called "The Silent Treatment". Begins with someone lying in bed, camera pans over to the phone which begins to ring. Hungover man answers, his girlfriend has already picked up to take the call from her friend. He goes downstairs and tries to figure out why his gf is mad at him. She doesn't say a word throughout the short. Like a woman could keep quiet for that long! Whoops, was that out loud? Shit. Um, anyway, the gf is cleaning up after a dinner party and the bf just keeps talking to try and find out what he did wrong. He thinks the friend on the phone told his gf something so he is going through some possibilities. In doing so he ends up confessing to various things and of course it turns out each time that what he has confessed is not what the gf was mad at but I'm sure the additional material did not make it any more likely that the magic would be rekindled. (I got tired of trying to describe this crap and just used something from the paragraph on the 1st short, yeah, that's right, take that).
Third, and perhaps the most interesting, this short film was in Spanish (I think) but subtitled. Called 10 Minutes. Man calls his cellphone customer service line to try and find out what # his phone called at 7:35 that day. Soon why he wants to know is revealed and the film revolves around his interaction with the customer service agent. The title refers to the fact that customer service calls are cut off after 10 minutes.
Nor am I writing this posthoumously because of being the one killed in a spat by said lover.
And no, I wasn't summing up quick foreplay followed by quick sex in 2 words x 2 with a comma in between either.
And no, this isn't a review of a recent adult film. I mean, yes, it is, keep reading!
In fact, the title refers to a television program featuring short films. I watched 3.
First one was called, 'How To Tell A Relationship is Over'. I put that title in single quotes because I later saw it listed as 'How To Tell A Relationship is Over in 90 Seconds'. But I think we can all rest assured that the film is about the signs that a relationship is over. Moving on (ha ha). This one was very short (but more than 90 seconds unless my sense of time is really skewed - maybe the film shows that the relationship is actually over after only 90 seconds and the rest is just showing the...what's the word I'm looking for here...the beating of a dead horse). Quick vignettes of a couple in a kitchen interspersed with black screen shots with phrases such as "Now It's War." (I'm not sure I should have quoted that either, it may not be 100% accurate. But you get the drift.) [Where does the punctuation go, in the bracket? Outside of it? I don't care to be honest, deal with it]. It kind of reminded me of that Pina Colada song but without the happy ending. This couples personal's ads didn't rekindle the magic as far as I could tell. Oh, one of the phrases featured on the black screen shot was something like, "Finding The Dead Pigeon" (oh bloody hell, that should be in single quotes I suppose but screw it - the punctuation/quotation I mean, not the dead pigeon, what kind of freak are you?? Sheesh). It then flashed to the couple in the kitchen staring at a dead pigeon, poking it (with a pencil I think it was) and declaring that it was dead. I suppose that was put in to illustrate some sort of symbiosis with their relationship but whatever. I kind of like thinking of it as random, because inserting the dead pigeon bit into any film surely makes for great comedy. (And I dislike when people overanalyze novels or movies, making every little thing into some grand theme - I am struck by the way the author of this post's use of single quotes mirrors the breakdown of the couple -the double quotes-....yeah, I'm kidding).
Second short was called "The Silent Treatment". Begins with someone lying in bed, camera pans over to the phone which begins to ring. Hungover man answers, his girlfriend has already picked up to take the call from her friend. He goes downstairs and tries to figure out why his gf is mad at him. She doesn't say a word throughout the short. Like a woman could keep quiet for that long! Whoops, was that out loud? Shit. Um, anyway, the gf is cleaning up after a dinner party and the bf just keeps talking to try and find out what he did wrong. He thinks the friend on the phone told his gf something so he is going through some possibilities. In doing so he ends up confessing to various things and of course it turns out each time that what he has confessed is not what the gf was mad at but I'm sure the additional material did not make it any more likely that the magic would be rekindled. (I got tired of trying to describe this crap and just used something from the paragraph on the 1st short, yeah, that's right, take that).
Third, and perhaps the most interesting, this short film was in Spanish (I think) but subtitled. Called 10 Minutes. Man calls his cellphone customer service line to try and find out what # his phone called at 7:35 that day. Soon why he wants to know is revealed and the film revolves around his interaction with the customer service agent. The title refers to the fact that customer service calls are cut off after 10 minutes.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Abandon Ship! Er..I Mean, Shoes
So something fairly insignificant happened the other day that I thought I might blog about. Thought about it a couple times since, and was about to start writing tonight, when I realized something.
You know that stereotype about women and shoes? I don't really know how to put it in one sentence form, but, in a nutshell, it might be "women are gaga over shoes". Well, I am not one of those women. Why do I bring this up? Because I realized that I recently did blog about shoes, and this blog I was beginning tonight also features shoes. Isn't that ironic? (Is it ironic? That irony can be a tricky thing, just ask Alanis Morissette - sorry, not sure if that's spelled right. Although, when people get on their high horse and point out that her song Ironic isn't actually about irony, hence what a fuck up she is - I thought, hey, maybe that's part of the shtick..'hey, I'll write a song about irony, but the instances I detail won't actually be examples of irony, that would be ironic!' Man, I've forgotten what irony is at this point. That was quite the digression.)
So anyway, the other day I was walking down the street approaching an intersection. Being the conscientious girl that I am, I stopped at the light and pressed the button to trigger the walk signal at the crosswalk. It was then that I noticed a pair of shoes. Abandoned it seemed. Not directly at the edge of the sidewalk (that would have been kind of cool, like someone just vanished right as they were about to cross the street, swept right up and out of their shoes - ok, I'm scaring myself now, ack) but a bit off to the side, near the post with the crossing signal on it. The heels of said shoes were pushed down, and I could see those Dr. Scholls insoles (just the few $ ones, nothing extravagant). The insoles looked pretty new. So as I said at the start, one would likely say this is pretty insignificant. But I found it kind of interesting. I found myself musing over the story behind the abandoned shoes as I waited to cross the street. Maybe that's what I should blog about. Or maybe that would make a cool story idea. Hmmm.
FUCK. I was considering adding a picture to this, you know, help with the mood of the piece, when I realized that the picture on my blog page is of shoes! Holy shit, what is with this shoe thing! Is it my biological destiny? I don't have that stereotypical gaga for shoes thing but it cannot be fully repressed so it expressed itself unconsciously? I do like running shoes. Getting new running shoes... well, not the getting, that sucks ass, but wearing new running shoes rocks.
You know that stereotype about women and shoes? I don't really know how to put it in one sentence form, but, in a nutshell, it might be "women are gaga over shoes". Well, I am not one of those women. Why do I bring this up? Because I realized that I recently did blog about shoes, and this blog I was beginning tonight also features shoes. Isn't that ironic? (Is it ironic? That irony can be a tricky thing, just ask Alanis Morissette - sorry, not sure if that's spelled right. Although, when people get on their high horse and point out that her song Ironic isn't actually about irony, hence what a fuck up she is - I thought, hey, maybe that's part of the shtick..'hey, I'll write a song about irony, but the instances I detail won't actually be examples of irony, that would be ironic!' Man, I've forgotten what irony is at this point. That was quite the digression.)
So anyway, the other day I was walking down the street approaching an intersection. Being the conscientious girl that I am, I stopped at the light and pressed the button to trigger the walk signal at the crosswalk. It was then that I noticed a pair of shoes. Abandoned it seemed. Not directly at the edge of the sidewalk (that would have been kind of cool, like someone just vanished right as they were about to cross the street, swept right up and out of their shoes - ok, I'm scaring myself now, ack) but a bit off to the side, near the post with the crossing signal on it. The heels of said shoes were pushed down, and I could see those Dr. Scholls insoles (just the few $ ones, nothing extravagant). The insoles looked pretty new. So as I said at the start, one would likely say this is pretty insignificant. But I found it kind of interesting. I found myself musing over the story behind the abandoned shoes as I waited to cross the street. Maybe that's what I should blog about. Or maybe that would make a cool story idea. Hmmm.
FUCK. I was considering adding a picture to this, you know, help with the mood of the piece, when I realized that the picture on my blog page is of shoes! Holy shit, what is with this shoe thing! Is it my biological destiny? I don't have that stereotypical gaga for shoes thing but it cannot be fully repressed so it expressed itself unconsciously? I do like running shoes. Getting new running shoes... well, not the getting, that sucks ass, but wearing new running shoes rocks.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Anything But Be
So at this point you may be wondering, has GB taken to channeling Yoda? (Anything but be, yesssss). The answer is no, that is not what the title refers to. I think at this point you should proceed immediately to the comments section, do not read the rest of the blog yet, and do not collect $200 until you get your "get out of the comments section" free card. Go there and tell me what you think the title might refer to. It'll be fun, really. Then you can read the rest of the post - but not before. Go. Now.
Welcome back.
Awhile ago I purchased a Supertramp greatest hits CD. I then used this great free program called Quintessential Player http://www.quinnware.com/ to convert the songs to mp3's so that I can listen to them along with the rest of my computer collection on my mp3 player. Yeah, that's right, I'm not cool enough to own an iPod. So anyway, I like some Supertramp songs but I wouldn't say I'm a fan or know that much about the band or anything. But one day I'm listening to my mp3 player while I plod along (I plod, it's almost like iPod you see) and I hear a Supertramp song and I check the title of said song scrolling across the display of my player. It says "Anything But Be". And I think, hmm, that's odd. And then I thought a bit about how that would be funny if that wasn't the real title yada yada (zzzzz) and then promptly forgot about it. However, I recently was removing that song from my player and so I Googled it and found that indeed, as one would expect, the song is entitled "Anything But Me". And I thought, wow, this would make a good blog post! Boy was I wrong, huh. It was Anything But.
Welcome back.
Awhile ago I purchased a Supertramp greatest hits CD. I then used this great free program called Quintessential Player http://www.quinnware.com/ to convert the songs to mp3's so that I can listen to them along with the rest of my computer collection on my mp3 player. Yeah, that's right, I'm not cool enough to own an iPod. So anyway, I like some Supertramp songs but I wouldn't say I'm a fan or know that much about the band or anything. But one day I'm listening to my mp3 player while I plod along (I plod, it's almost like iPod you see) and I hear a Supertramp song and I check the title of said song scrolling across the display of my player. It says "Anything But Be". And I think, hmm, that's odd. And then I thought a bit about how that would be funny if that wasn't the real title yada yada (zzzzz) and then promptly forgot about it. However, I recently was removing that song from my player and so I Googled it and found that indeed, as one would expect, the song is entitled "Anything But Me". And I thought, wow, this would make a good blog post! Boy was I wrong, huh. It was Anything But.
Monday, June 4, 2007
< Insert Clever Title Here >
So CNN is showing a story on a certain someone going to jail. (You know who I mean, I refuse to type her name in this blog, it would be forever tainted. Ick.)
There was no volume, but it generated a discussion about troubled celebs (e.g. LL & BS).
So I find myself involved in this useless discussion. Me. (Shakes head). It's truly a miracle that I didn't slit my wrists right then and there and that I'm here writing this blog now.
Fortunately, the discussion quickly turned to the infamous shots of a couple of these celebs' crotches. One of the discussants stated firmly and in a somewhat judgmental tone that there was simply no excuse for these people not wearing underwear. Rather quickly (if I do say so myself) I managed the following rejoinder:
"She wanted to support the troops so she thought she should go commando."
This resulted in peals of laughter and questions as to whether I had made that up myself right on the spot. Indeed I had. (Yeah, I'm pretty proud).
Yeah, it might not be that great but what do you want from me - there was already one miracle here today, don't push it.
There was no volume, but it generated a discussion about troubled celebs (e.g. LL & BS).
So I find myself involved in this useless discussion. Me. (Shakes head). It's truly a miracle that I didn't slit my wrists right then and there and that I'm here writing this blog now.
Fortunately, the discussion quickly turned to the infamous shots of a couple of these celebs' crotches. One of the discussants stated firmly and in a somewhat judgmental tone that there was simply no excuse for these people not wearing underwear. Rather quickly (if I do say so myself) I managed the following rejoinder:
"She wanted to support the troops so she thought she should go commando."
This resulted in peals of laughter and questions as to whether I had made that up myself right on the spot. Indeed I had. (Yeah, I'm pretty proud).
Yeah, it might not be that great but what do you want from me - there was already one miracle here today, don't push it.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Wok With GB
First off, sorry about the title.
So tonight had all the drama of Iron Chef, but in my very own kitchen.
Really, you ask? Who'd you take on, Iron Chef Japan?
Well, um, no, not...exactly. But what I did do was make a stirfry. And the secret ingredient was (drumroll please)... various vegetables. And the competition was... none other than myself.
Now I know you're probably thinking at this point, Iron Chef this is not. However, I did use a cast IRON frying pan for some of it and I CHEFfed. I rest my case. And I did all that without wearing a stupid hat. So there.
So it actually started out innocently enough as a regular old exercise in cooking dinner. Yawn. But obviously some kind of frenzy must have overtaken me, because I crammed so many vegetables (yes, various ones) into that stir fry...
Let's count, shall we? (That was a rhetorical question, get counting you lazy asses! NOW!!)
1. Carrots
2. Cauliflower
3. Parsnip
4. Leeks
5. Red Pepper
(Don't panic, just continue counting using your other hand. If you only have one hand, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun at you or anything, sorry about the tragic loss of your hand. If it wasn't tragic, make something up.)
6. Yellow Pepper
7. Broccoli
8. Snow Peas
9. Zucchini
10. Bean Sprouts
Damn, is that it? This is the first time I counted so I really had no idea how this was going to go. Yeah, that's right, I just blog on the fly like that, I'm crazy that way. WILD!
A ha! I just remembered! You'd better pull out your toes now. Not literally for the love of god! I just meant to count on! (I'll have to remember that as a line though, "your blog makes me want to pull out my own toes").
11. Asparagus
I also used tofu, but I don't think one can count that as a vegetable. And yes, I know, ewww, tofu, but relax, I know how to cook - the tofu was just fine. I also used a hoisin sauce. And it was all served over fresh chinese noodles. One of the people who I deigned to share with started making cracks about how I knew they were chinese noodles. I bet you think I then beat him repeatedly with said noodles, but no, I did not. As John Cusack's character in Grosse Pointe Blank said, "I don't want to get into a big semantic argument about it, I just want the protein." Except in this case perhaps it's the carbs. But I think you smart readers get the gist.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I am still sitting here going, 'hmm, was that really all the vegetables? Surely there was something else...'
So tonight had all the drama of Iron Chef, but in my very own kitchen.
Really, you ask? Who'd you take on, Iron Chef Japan?
Well, um, no, not...exactly. But what I did do was make a stirfry. And the secret ingredient was (drumroll please)... various vegetables. And the competition was... none other than myself.
Now I know you're probably thinking at this point, Iron Chef this is not. However, I did use a cast IRON frying pan for some of it and I CHEFfed. I rest my case. And I did all that without wearing a stupid hat. So there.
So it actually started out innocently enough as a regular old exercise in cooking dinner. Yawn. But obviously some kind of frenzy must have overtaken me, because I crammed so many vegetables (yes, various ones) into that stir fry...
Let's count, shall we? (That was a rhetorical question, get counting you lazy asses! NOW!!)
1. Carrots
2. Cauliflower
3. Parsnip
4. Leeks
5. Red Pepper
(Don't panic, just continue counting using your other hand. If you only have one hand, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun at you or anything, sorry about the tragic loss of your hand. If it wasn't tragic, make something up.)
6. Yellow Pepper
7. Broccoli
8. Snow Peas
9. Zucchini
10. Bean Sprouts
Damn, is that it? This is the first time I counted so I really had no idea how this was going to go. Yeah, that's right, I just blog on the fly like that, I'm crazy that way. WILD!
A ha! I just remembered! You'd better pull out your toes now. Not literally for the love of god! I just meant to count on! (I'll have to remember that as a line though, "your blog makes me want to pull out my own toes").
11. Asparagus
I also used tofu, but I don't think one can count that as a vegetable. And yes, I know, ewww, tofu, but relax, I know how to cook - the tofu was just fine. I also used a hoisin sauce. And it was all served over fresh chinese noodles. One of the people who I deigned to share with started making cracks about how I knew they were chinese noodles. I bet you think I then beat him repeatedly with said noodles, but no, I did not. As John Cusack's character in Grosse Pointe Blank said, "I don't want to get into a big semantic argument about it, I just want the protein." Except in this case perhaps it's the carbs. But I think you smart readers get the gist.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I am still sitting here going, 'hmm, was that really all the vegetables? Surely there was something else...'
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Of Dogs and Men
So recently a female acquaintance says to me, "hey, I don't know if you're in the available dating pool or not, but if you're into it, I know this guy named _____ (whatever it was) who has a great dog named _____ (Cisco?) and he's single!"
I reply, "who is, the dog or the guy?"
I mean really, I've heard women complain about having dated some dogs, but getting set up with an actual canine is pushing it.
On a secondary note, you gotta love the high-tech matching system she's utilizing. This guy (yes, in case you hadn't figured it out, it was the guy she was trying to set me up with - well him with his dog thrown in as a bonus prize) is single - wow, what a qualification. Really? A single guy? I had no idea they existed! I can't believe you found one - set me up! (Now you should picture that "so happy together" song playing with a slow-mo video of me and this guy holding hands running through a field of flowers while the dog romps nearby - don't forget to picture the big idiotic grins we're sporting - and by we I mean all 3 of us).
I reply, "who is, the dog or the guy?"
I mean really, I've heard women complain about having dated some dogs, but getting set up with an actual canine is pushing it.
On a secondary note, you gotta love the high-tech matching system she's utilizing. This guy (yes, in case you hadn't figured it out, it was the guy she was trying to set me up with - well him with his dog thrown in as a bonus prize) is single - wow, what a qualification. Really? A single guy? I had no idea they existed! I can't believe you found one - set me up! (Now you should picture that "so happy together" song playing with a slow-mo video of me and this guy holding hands running through a field of flowers while the dog romps nearby - don't forget to picture the big idiotic grins we're sporting - and by we I mean all 3 of us).
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A Bird in the House is Worth A Fish Tale or Two
I recently walked into a house and found one of the occupants engaged in trying to catch a bird that was attempting to escape through a large window.
Let me clarify, the window was not one of the opening variety, and thus the bird could not escape. (And no, I do not know of which variety the bird was, or is). The human, realizing this (that the bird could not escape, not that I didn't know its variety), wished to grab the bird and place xe (I stole this from Leper Pop, it rocks, and so will you if you visit the site - http://leperpop.blogspot.com/ - xe being a great way of resolving the s/he issue) outside.
Let me clarify some more. I knew the occupant - I am not in the habit of walking into stranger's houses. Although now that I mention that I'm thinking it might be interesting. But that would be a wild digression at this point.
So the bird was freed after some frantic kerfuffleing (so sue me) and barely did xe reach the open patio door before xe had zipped off like a shot over the deck railing. This got me thinking about the bird returning home and the stories xe would have.
"You wouldn't believe the day I had!" xe would exclaim.
And I pictured the story getting a little more exaggerated as xe went on. Now, I'm no bird, so how the hell do I know what the story might resemble, but here goes...
Henry (I have no idea why I just named the bird that) swoops into the nest-home area (man, I need to learn more about birds methinks) and lands in a kerfuffle. Panting, gasping, Henry is eager to tell xe's tale. His family, despite his rather violent arrival, seem non-plussed. He awaits their attention, clearing his bird throat in consternation when this does not come to pass. After several tut tuts, Henry's mate, seemingly not in response to the tut-tutting, but as though she's just realized that Henry is there, begins to make small talk. One of Henry's offspring gives a bored roll of the eyes in Henry's direction while another cocks xe's head in an effort to look attentive.
"Yes, yes," Henry interrupts, "but you won't believe what happened to me! There I was flying along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden - I don't know if there was pond scum in the water I had this morning or what - but I found myself in some sort of strange world where I could see normally but when I'd try to fly forward I kept crashing into this invisible barrier!" (Henry's family look incredulous and suspicious - but Henry doesn't notice this, as xe is so wrapped up in xe's story).
"Then, as though that wasn't bad enough, some giant creature began attacking me..." (Here Henry looks to his family for expressions of sympathy on their little faces, and feels immensely affronted when xe doesn't find this to be the case, causing him to try to increase the oomph-factor of the story). "When I say creature, what I really mean to say is that it was a whole pack of cats, all working together, pawing at me, 100's of them! 100's!!!" (For a second Henry's family had begun to sympathize but it quickly passes and Henry can tell that they don't believe). His tale increases in size in a strident attempt to get the requisite reaction that Henry so deserves after the trials of xe's day.
Fast forward to days later...by this time Henry is driving his whole community nuts with his wild tales. As other birds fly about their business, muttered chirps can be heard:
"...ridiculous, 100 cats..."
"that Henry, such a..."
"preposterous nonsense..."
Let me clarify, the window was not one of the opening variety, and thus the bird could not escape. (And no, I do not know of which variety the bird was, or is). The human, realizing this (that the bird could not escape, not that I didn't know its variety), wished to grab the bird and place xe (I stole this from Leper Pop, it rocks, and so will you if you visit the site - http://leperpop.blogspot.com/ - xe being a great way of resolving the s/he issue) outside.
Let me clarify some more. I knew the occupant - I am not in the habit of walking into stranger's houses. Although now that I mention that I'm thinking it might be interesting. But that would be a wild digression at this point.
So the bird was freed after some frantic kerfuffleing (so sue me) and barely did xe reach the open patio door before xe had zipped off like a shot over the deck railing. This got me thinking about the bird returning home and the stories xe would have.
"You wouldn't believe the day I had!" xe would exclaim.
And I pictured the story getting a little more exaggerated as xe went on. Now, I'm no bird, so how the hell do I know what the story might resemble, but here goes...
Henry (I have no idea why I just named the bird that) swoops into the nest-home area (man, I need to learn more about birds methinks) and lands in a kerfuffle. Panting, gasping, Henry is eager to tell xe's tale. His family, despite his rather violent arrival, seem non-plussed. He awaits their attention, clearing his bird throat in consternation when this does not come to pass. After several tut tuts, Henry's mate, seemingly not in response to the tut-tutting, but as though she's just realized that Henry is there, begins to make small talk. One of Henry's offspring gives a bored roll of the eyes in Henry's direction while another cocks xe's head in an effort to look attentive.
"Yes, yes," Henry interrupts, "but you won't believe what happened to me! There I was flying along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden - I don't know if there was pond scum in the water I had this morning or what - but I found myself in some sort of strange world where I could see normally but when I'd try to fly forward I kept crashing into this invisible barrier!" (Henry's family look incredulous and suspicious - but Henry doesn't notice this, as xe is so wrapped up in xe's story).
"Then, as though that wasn't bad enough, some giant creature began attacking me..." (Here Henry looks to his family for expressions of sympathy on their little faces, and feels immensely affronted when xe doesn't find this to be the case, causing him to try to increase the oomph-factor of the story). "When I say creature, what I really mean to say is that it was a whole pack of cats, all working together, pawing at me, 100's of them! 100's!!!" (For a second Henry's family had begun to sympathize but it quickly passes and Henry can tell that they don't believe). His tale increases in size in a strident attempt to get the requisite reaction that Henry so deserves after the trials of xe's day.
Fast forward to days later...by this time Henry is driving his whole community nuts with his wild tales. As other birds fly about their business, muttered chirps can be heard:
"...ridiculous, 100 cats..."
"that Henry, such a..."
"preposterous nonsense..."
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