buy me a pony

a (revised) tale of two chickens

2008-04-28T20:51:00.003-06:00

The Story of the Chickens, As Remembered and Told by Rhianna:

Once when I was younger, my class took a trip to Butterfield Acres, a small farm where young'uns could learn about animals and nature and so on. During one part of the trip, we were shown a bunch of chicken eggs, and informed that these eggs had been fertilized. That is, if one were to keep them in a warm place, they would hatch into baby chickens of unbearably cute aspect. This part of the tour ended with myself sneaking one of these magical eggs into my pocket.

During the rest of the trip, I tried to keep the egg warm with scraps of fabric stolen from a quilting demonstration, and also a fresh-baked biscuit from the kitchen. (Oh, the larceny! I think this moment pinpoints my love of theft.) After a long, precarious day of not smashing my pocket against things, I arrived home to show my parents the egg I had been "given". We made a fabric shoebox nest, placed it under a lamp, and some weeks later it hatched into the fluffiest little chick you ever did see.

However then my sister, Samantha, needed a chick as well, so my Dad bought her one. We then had a great deal of adorable times until the chickens got older and started making terrible messes, at which time they were donated back to Butterfield Acres. Which is the circle of life.

The Story of the Chickens, As Only Recently Told to Me by My Dad (not verbatim):

Later that evening, after you had gone to bed, I decided to "candle" the egg to see if it was really fertilized. (Procedure consisted of holding the egg over a bright light to view lack of fetus). The next day I phoned a commercial chicken hatchery and told them the heartbreaking story of my tiny daughter, and asked to buy an egg that was near hatching. They told me I needed a license, and the smallest unit of chickens available was 144. I said, "Yes, but didn't I tell you about the little girl with her heart set on a baby chicken?" After much pleading of this sort, the woman said, "We open at six. Be here at 5:45, come around to the back door, and knock three times."

I then threw out your egg, which was rotten, and replaced it with the egg just about to hatch. You wanted to know why the egg had changed colour, and I told you it was because of exposure to the air when the shell started breaking, which you seemed to buy.

However I didn't count on your sister being jealous of the chick. So I had to call back and say, "Hey, did I tell you I have another small daughter?"

"Not you again....come by early...knock three times".

However the only food we could buy came in industrial size bags, and I couldn't heartbreaking story my way out of it. That bag of food was about 100 times the size of the chick.

Lessons We Can Learn From This:

1. Stealing is awesome and always ends well.
2. My dad is just about the cutest dad ever.
3. Commercial chicken farms seem to have suspiciously well set-up systems in place for illegal egg dealing.
4. Some truths are so awful they apparently cannot be confronted until your daughter is 27.

i always did blur the line between helpful and just showing-off

2007-07-31T16:32:00.000-06:00

A conversation between Susan, Jurgen (my boss) and I today while making delicious cakes:

Susan: I have to make a six-sided cake...what's this shape called?
Jurgen: An octagon.
Me: That's actually a hexagon.
Jurgen: Oh right. An octagon has five sides, yes?
Me: Eight.
Jurgen: What has five sides?
Me: A pentagon.
Susan: We should get you to write this out....
Me: Pentagon, hexagon, heptagon, octagon, nonagon, decagon........(pause as I look up to see everyone giving me a Look)

The look that says, "We are going to put something gross in your coffee when you leave, because you're such a nerd."

Don't pretend you don't have time to sit around and watch stuff on the internet. I know you do.

2007-07-12T15:44:00.000-06:00

Just because I never bothered to spell this out before, you need to be a fan of Zefrank. He made a video blog for one year, ending this last March, and it's amazing. You should go to the start of the archive, watch every single one, then stop.

If I can't marry Zefrank, I don't want to marry anyone.

reason no. 224.....

2007-07-11T18:26:00.000-06:00

...that working in an all-girl metalsmithing studio is awesome:

because sometimes guys working construction in the neighborhood wander casually over to our large open door and ask if we perhaps have a specific tool that they could borrow because they do not have the right ones for the job.

And we say, "Maybe. How about you remove that shirt, first?"

TV Gluttony

2007-07-02T00:40:00.000-06:00

A series of alternate titles for the shows "When Animals Go Bad" and "When Animals Go Bad 2", which Kaylen and I watched the other night after not having tv in 2 months. Because not all of the clips fit neatly into the show's catchy title.

When Animals Are Really Hungry

When People Don't Know To Get Out of the Animal's Way

When Animals That Have Been Terribly Abused Get Revenge

When Large Animals Get Clumsy

Animals That Were Never Really Good in the First Place

When Santa Literally Gets Run Over By A Reindeer

Animals That Have Escaped From A Disease Testing Lab and If Electrocuted Will Rain Herpes upon Neighborhood

and it keeps me up at night

2007-06-20T21:51:00.000-06:00

Someone asked a few months ago about my fears. I think it was a question one shouldn't take lightly...after all, our fears represent the deepest and murkiest of inner-psyche swamps. So I've been carefully considering this question, and whoever you were, I think I have a few answers.

1. That my fish, who until recently were kept in the bathroom, were staring at my butt when I was on the toilet.

2. That while walking and poking at my lip ring with my tongue, I would trip over a crack on the pavement and bite through the tip of my tongue, leaving it like a piece of used chewing gum on the sidewalk.

3. That if I wear low-cut shirts around gay men, it will cause them to question their sexuality.

4. That even though I'm sure my IQ is somewhere over 130, I cannot seem to both
a) Shake hands and
b) Remember the name of the person I'm being introduced to.

5. That with the amount of foreign countries I've been to, I'm probably filled with strange parasites which have been quietly breeding and biding their time until one day they'll all pour out of my orifices like an X-Files episode.

6. That you actually can absorb calories through your skin....and I spend a hell of a lot of days covered in icing/chocolate/whipped cream.

7. That if there is a God, he probably doesn't appreciate most of my jokes.

...also, I've never been kissed....

2007-06-08T18:17:00.001-06:00

There is a guy at work I know as "Gold Belt Man" for reasons that are fairly obvious. I think he has a crush on me. And today as I was innocently trying to throw out some boxes (possibly in a way that was TOO innocent?) we had the following exchange:

GBM: "How old are you?"
Me: "Why would you ask that?"
GBM: "I dunno...you look really young..."
Me: "How old do you think I am?"
GBM: "Um....I would say you're about 16."
Me: (After recovering from being balled up with laughter) "Try adding about ten years to that."
GBM: "No way. No way, seriously?"
Me: "Yeah dude. I haven't been jailbait since 1999."

Oh Gold Belt Man. You have made my day. I wonder if this is in part because one of the only conversations we've had is how I accidentally got a strawberry up my nose. Because, let me tell you, you are never too old to enjoy that.

New Moon

2007-06-06T00:16:00.000-06:00

My quick review of the 2 new Elliott Smith cd's, which have been brought to us from beyond the grave and easily rival anything he chose to release while he was alive:

Song Lyrics from 'Riot Coming':

A punch in the stomach/
Makes sons into daughters

I think that punch needs to be a little lower than the stomach, Elliott.

the plagues of marda loop

2007-05-22T23:41:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry I haven't been writing much the last few weeks. We are experiencing a slight case of the plagues since Kaylen and I moved into our new place. At first it was merely things that needed to be done...repainting, unpacking, going tappa tappa tappa to find wall studs to hang pictures....oh, and clearing out animal nests from the windows.

It's like having the Discovery channel! Shoo, pidgeons. No more babies.

However, recently it's gotten a little more biblical:

The Plague of Itchiness...

I have a pox. Ever since I moved in I have been waking up every morning with more unsightly red bumps. It got so bad that it prompted me to look up images of bedbugs, which I really wish I had never had to see. However I think it's just mosquitos. Which isn't really surprising considering the fact that the windows have no screens.

The Plague of Crippling Back Pain...

Kaylen has pulled something. Which every day gets worse and worse. Which isn't helped by the fact that she won't sit still and keeps trying to paint the apartment, play basketball, install shelving etc. However we have learned that enough Robaxacet makes even he most hideous IKEA couch bearable. "Look at the pretty colours!"

The Plauge of Rain...

Two days ago, walking to Casablanca video:
Kaylen "I think it's going to rain."
Me "It's not going to rain"
Kaylen "Since when did you become such an optimist?"

However it surely did rain, and after spending an hour in the most obnoxious coffee shop in the neighborhood, we took the long and very soggy and very cold route home. After Kaylen stole their scorpion encased in lucite.

Next plauge? Hopefully not scorpions. We're stocked up.

Finless sharks never killed anybody, though...

2007-05-13T17:31:00.000-06:00

An open letter to Rob Stewart, director of the documentary Sharkwater:

I am empathetic towards the topic of this movie. That sinking shark with no fins broke my cold cold heart. However I have some tips that will help people take you seriously in the future:

1. There is a maxium role that your nipples/swimming panties should play in a movie.
2. For the soundtrack, please do not mix your Moby and Portishead with wailing Enya-type yoga music.
3. If you make a point like, "without sharks, we will eventually not be able to breathe" you can probably be rest assured that some people will remember this without you repeating it every 3 seconds like we're idiots.
4. When you tell us that you have discovered that you have flesh-eating disease, and will lose a leg, it then becomes confusing to see you with two legs for the rest of the movie.
5. Try not to sound so much like Keanu Reeves.

Thanks,
R

p.s. Also, if you're going to go after some poachers with a battleship, please don't be afraid to bust some heads. What was with spraying them with hoses? Pansy.

just a note:

2007-05-07T01:50:00.000-06:00

I am moving tomorrow, and we don't have internet...we will try and get on it soon. But there might be a bit of a break here, so, don't panic. You're all lovely.

the return of the mac

2007-04-26T23:17:00.000-06:00

I haven't been doing art shows as much as I should since the big exhibition in Ottawa last summer. But today this was in my email box:

Hello Rhianna,

INFLUX is pleased to notify you that you have won the award for 'Creative Innovation' in our first national juried exhibition, "Archiving Beauty". You are cordially invited to attend the opening reception and awards ceremony on May 3, 2007 from 5-8PM.

Congratulations,

INFLUX Jewellery Gallery 'Specializing in Canadian Contemporary Art Jewellery'

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

i heart my new weekend job

2007-04-25T23:09:00.000-06:00

Today i got paid to spend three hours dressing up strawberries in little chocolate tuxedos.

Which is easily the most precious thing I've done all week.

After a while, I started getting attached to them, and made up little back stories. Like Rico, who is in love with a beautiful dancer, but it is not meant to be.

If anyone knew how rich my internal life is, I'm sure I'd be fired. As it is, I was caught humming "Copacabana" by the kitchen manager.

Between putting clothes on fruit, and getting to make a "boop!" noise whenever I put a cherry on top of a whip-cream rosette, well.......I've never been so happy.

Coming Soon....

2007-04-17T23:52:00.000-06:00

Rhianna Productions presents a Rhianna event, starring Rhianna:

A VERY HOOCIE BIRTHDAY

Saturday May 5th.

Ladies! We're going out the the club! Break out your giant hoop earrings, body glitter, JLo sweatsuits, lipliner, and stilletto heels. You're going to shake that booty, little mama. Maybe show some th-th-thong! And Gents! Find your hair gel, your polo shirts, your gold chains and soak yourself in Axe body spray. The ladies won't be able to keep their arcrylic nails off you.

Yup. This is the theme for my birthday. You know you want to.

More details to follow.

it's like still living with your parents, if your parents were nazis

2007-04-14T16:33:00.000-06:00

Of all the ads for housing I've read in the last few days, this one is my favorite. It starts out fairly normal and ends up sounding like you'd be living with a cross between Annie Wilkes from Misery and Principal Skinner's mother:

This area has been developed to be another downtown Calgary. It is a 10 minute walk to the bus stop and the bus takes you directly to the LRT - Bridlewood station. It is good because you can always have a seat on the train in the morning - who likes to stand. I have 1 bedroom with a single bed for $575/month. This is only for one person per room. The house is furnished, some bedding included,dishes, etc. You only need to bring your clothes. Anything brought into the house needs to be ok'd by me. No fridges etc in the room. The house doesn't have a garage so I cannot accomodate storage of furniture since it is furnished as you can see by the pictures. Includes utilities, phone - local calls only, cable tv, wireless internet - bring your own computer. You can use the kitchen and livingroom area. You have to clean up after yourself and put your dishes in the dishwasher, wipe off countertops, and remove your shoes if you come in the door. Muddy work boots are to be left in your vehicle and you can change into other shoes. All eating and drinking is to be done in the kitchen and dining room area ONLY. I do clean the house once a week. I do clean the bathroom. If you want me to vaccum and dust your room once a week I will - if not you can do it yourself. Toilet paper and two clean bath towels are provided once a week. I wash the sheets once a month. If you want laundry service each week it is extra and I will do it for you, or you can do your own. Quiet at 10 pm as everyone works or needs their sleep. This is a non partying house. Looking for responsible quiet people with no drug or alcohol problems. If you smoke it is to be done outside.Butts are to go in a can. References are required.

What a life! In bed by ten, furitively changing shoes in the car, wiping off countertops after you eat only in the kitchen and dining room, and worrying about what this lady thinks as she is washing your unmentionables.

On the plus side.....toilet paper provided!!

Survey says?
Pass.

the winds of change are mussing my hair

2007-04-12T00:05:00.000-06:00

This time of year is historically typical of change...the day that Jesus rose from the dead to collect chocolate eggs.

As for me, tomorrow I start a new job, and Kaylen and I go to see apartments that we may choose to live in. (Our new life together as a couple...well, the kind of couple that needs two bedrooms.)

Did I mention that I have to get up at 5:30 to start this new job? Is it even light out at that time? I wouldn't know, because what kind of sucker gets up at 5:30? Skiiers.....and people who decorate cakes. The world needs lovely cakes and damnit, it needs cake early.

Then after work I will chip off my coating of icing and try to convince people that I am stable enough to sign a lease. Here are some facts that we will need to omit:

1. Kaylen has no job
2. Kaylen has no work visa, even
3. I have only had a job for one day
4. I have no references, renting-wise
5. We both have banjos and often jam on them 'til midnight
6. Especially, that thing about banjos

Wish me luck.

reason no.124...

2007-04-04T22:44:00.000-06:00

...that working in an all-girl metalsmithing studio is awesome:

Kathleen: "Are you using the dangerous, high-speed industrial polishing machine to buff your nails?"

Me: "No.........................yes."

new! fun! contest!

2007-04-03T23:32:00.000-06:00

Some quotes are so gay, you just know they have scented candles and rose petals by the tub for when they need "me" time. Some of them are so gay that they have faux military inspired t-shirts and a chihuahua with a spiked collar. Here are two I've seen today which are particularly concerned with back waxes and scented hair-sculpting gel:

"If you fell down yesterday, stand up today." -HG Wells

(Or I guess the other option is to stay lying face down on the sidewalk for all eternity. Most of us learned this wasn't a viable option before we hit Grade 2)

"If you want to be loved, be loveable" -Ovid

(........what? Or, could be written, "if you want to be gay, rub jello on the nipples of the nearest guy to you at the gay bar". These are hardly mutually exclusive. %$#& Ovid)

These are great examples. But I'm sure you guys have some too. Prove me right.

I hate lying but I do it so well

2007-03-27T01:01:00.000-06:00

Since being let go from my last part-time job (my luck to work at the only place in this city with TOO MANY employees) I find myself in need of a new part-time job so I can stop lying to apartment managers about being employed. (Ha!)

Hence the fun new world of online applications.

Here are some questions I really wish I could just answer honestly:

Why would you like to work for our company?

-Because I need some money to live, and I feel like you might give me a reasonable amount of it if I perform your monkey tasks. My real passion is my art, of course, so I feel like your company would allow me to pay some bills without taking too much time away from me being happy and fufilled.

What skills do you feel you would bring to this organization?

-I'll show up most days, not get sick very often, do things with a minimum amount of complaint, give off pleasant odours and speak english clearly, and very probably won't call any customers "dick-face"while they can hear me. Oh, and if it ever comes up, I'm pretty good with jive/hip-hop lingo, yo.

What are your career goals?

-Good money, health benefits, no uniforms or pantyhose, no babies, no door-to-door, loose sex and occasional theft of office supplies.

What is wrong with our culture that I can't just write the truth? Is it so bad?

things preventing delicious sleep:

2007-03-23T11:21:00.000-06:00

After the following night, I am starting to rethink my genius housesitting plans.

2:30 am: Eddie the dog stands outside my room whining. Not continuously...most are just loud exhales that only occasionally turn into whines. As if to say, "I'm not really trying to bother you". Get up to let Eddie out into yard.

6:45 am: Alarm goes off. Struggle to find off button on strange alarm.

7:00 am: Alarm goes off again. Realize I only managed to hit the sleep button. After turning on light and inspecting strange, cryptic alarm, get up to crawl under bed and unplug alarm.

7:15 am: Alarm goes off again. Consider consulting priest. Realize that it is one of those damn failsafe alarms. Turn on light, yank out batteries.

7:30 am: Awake to sound of cat, who wants to be fed, dropping things off bathroom counter into toilet. Sound is impossible to ignore. Was that splash my toothbrush? Get up to feed cat.

8:45 am: Eddie, whining again. Get up to feed dogs and let out into backyard.

9:15 am: Eddie and Joe, both whining. Repeated pleas of "shhhh" fail to invoke sympathy. Get up to take dogs on walk around neighboorhood in pyjamas. Realize sleep is beautiful, impossible dream.

Post St. Patrick's Day #2

2007-03-19T00:59:00.000-06:00

An Open Letter To Drunk People:

Please do not give into the deluded thought that us sober, calm people are uptight and repressed and just need to learn to have a little fun, and that we can be led by your shining example. The only thing we are repressing is rage. The next time you push in front of me at a concert to flail wildly, scream moronic things, grind against your boyfriend/girlfriend, and expectorate like a lawn sprinkler, I will not be tapping you on the shoulder merely to glare and motion you to the side. I will be tapping you on the shoulder so that you will turn around for me to punch you right in the face. I've done it to Italian sailors, I can do it to pale intoxicated hipsters at the HiFi.
Motherfuckers.

Love,
Me

p.s. As a total aside....the general rule is, if you need a thick belt around the waist in order to have a waist...you shouldn't be wearing one. They are ornamental and not in fact load-bearing.

Post St. Patrick's Day #1

2007-03-19T00:00:00.000-06:00

The Legend of St. Patrick:

"Most people in Ireland didn't like snakes. They thought snakes were slimy and poisonous and had big nasty fangs, and they were afraid of them. Patrick didn't like snakes either, and was afraid of them for the same reasons. He decided it would be a pretty good miracle to get rid of them, and so on the day he told the people he would chase all the snakes out of Ireland, he showed up with a drum made of snakeskin and walked down the middle of Dublin town beating it so loud that the windows shook.
The noise made people clap their hands over their ears. The snakes, of course, had no hands, and couldn't protect their ears from the noise. All they could do was slither away.
Patrick drove the whole hissing, wriggling mass of them into the Irish sea, and from then on, people called him St. Patrick and there were no more snakes in Ireland."

The Legend of the Pied Piper:

"In 1284, the town of Hamelin was suffering from a rat infestation. One day, a man claiming to be a rat-catcher approached the villagers with a solution. They promised to pay him for the removal of the rats. The man accepted and thus took a pipe and lured the rats with a song into the river, where all of them drowned.
Despite his success, the people reneged on their promise and refused to pay the rat-catcher. The man left the town angrily, but returned some time later, on June 26th, seeking revenge.
While the inhabitants were in church, he played his pipe again, this time attracting the children of Hamelin. One hundred and thirty boys and girls followed him out of the town, where they were lured into a cave and never seen again. "

As we can see, there are certain similaries. Pestilence, noise, drowning, creative problem-solving. Here is an easy guide to keeping things straight.

1. St. Patrick did not charm the snakes with sweet sweet pipe music, and lead them into the ocean. But if you think that, it's pretty cute.

2. The Pied Piper did not chase the rats with a drum.

3. Snakes are not actually slimy but feel cool and dry to the touch.

4. Unlike snakes, both rats and children have hands to put over their ears.

5. It would also be a pretty good miracle to beat children with a drum.

6. There is no St. Pied Piper.

my banjo name is 'Lil Catfish Edwards

2007-03-13T01:26:00.000-06:00

If I get asked any question more often than "what the hell are you wearing?" I would say it has to be, "Hey, how are those banjo lessons going anyway?"

Yes, I am learning the banjo. I am taking a course every wednesday night, along with five other of the hippest people in Calgary. Which includes two old men, a somewhat neurotic plump housewife and a brother/sister duo who have Goodtime banjos, which look like they are made out of balsa wood.

The style of banjo I am learning is called Clawhammer. It differs from Bluegrass in the respect that instead of using finger picks to pick out of a lot of little notes, you hold your hand in a grim arthritic rictus position to strum and pluck between each note. So in short, your hand is the clawhammer. Perfect for when I am older and suffering from the rheumatiz.

So far I'd say I'm doing pretty well, although I seem to be having "practice issues". I'm not the slowest in the class but we are all having our overall-clad butts kicked by the brother/sister team, who keep being sent to the other end of the room so their awesomeness does not discourage those of us still trying to perfect our lobsterlike hand position.

Housewife, to me: "Gosh, they're doing well, aren't they?"
Me (loudly): "I think, at this point, it's pretty clear those guys are total nerds"

I tried to stay on the remedial side of the classroom for as long as possible, where the chord changes are slow and we get to play "Micheal Row the Boat Ashore" in an endless and relaxed way. However last week my teacher promoted me rudely to the keener side and I'm now trying desperately to keep up. I immediately suffered a crisis of confidence...

Me: "I have no idea what I'm doing wrong, but this doesn't even sound like Oh Susanna."
Teacher: "Oh, I see what the problem is..."
Me: "I have the wrong tuning, don't I?"
Teacher: "Actually we're playing Cripple Creek."

Oh.

I better play more, or I'll never pass the exam. Which is of course playing dueling banjos against the teacher while standing in a tub of mud and chewing on a stem of wheat.

i'm thinking of sending a check like this to the calgary parking authority

2007-03-13T01:24:00.000-06:00

I can't stress how much you need to see this...

2007-03-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

....if you ever wanted to read my blog translated into ebonics. And trust me that you do, women and men.

a cross post picture

2007-03-02T22:52:00.000-07:00

This is a photo of that kid who played Harry Potter....naked....with a horse. I had heard of this but not seen it.

I honestly can't figure out if I'm turned on or what.

palpitating the hearts of nerds everywhere

2007-03-02T22:37:00.000-07:00

Today I was walking down 17th Ave on my daily mission to hunt and/or gather lunch when two guys walking towards me parted so that I could pass between them. I could feel them giving me the ol' elevator eyes.....a few steps past this appraisal I heard one say to the other:

"Hey, she looks really smart"

Which I think marks the first time I have been catcalled on my intelligence.

I knew selecting eyeglasses endorsed by the Jr. Accountants League of America would be a good choice.

I. Get. The. Hint.

2007-03-02T22:16:00.001-07:00

There really is no clearer sign that you should get off your expanding butt and write a blog than people actually sending you emails with helpful possible blog topics. So. I promise to write more and I'll start with this:

In high school, Marsha and I were way ahead of everyone else. This sounds like in some way it may be immodest but I think it's actually just true. So instead of paying attention during class we came up with myriad projects like making a list of everything funny ever said on the Simpsons and writing those stories where you put down two lines, fold it over, then someone else writes two lines, and so you eventually unfold it and read the accordion-like and hilarious results.

Somewhere in all of this we also came up with a national holiday, No Socks Day.

Years later it turns out that No Socks Day is real.....it's May 8th. So on that day you should all take off your socks. But not near me necessarily because I am very sensitive to foot odour. I know you think your feet don't smell, but man, they do. So maybe let's call it No Socks In Your Own Personal Space Day.

Also Marsha found that every day is actually a day of something....my birthday is Lumpy Rug Day. Which I vaguely resent.

It is better than it being on Baby Day (ugh!) or More Herbs, Less Salt Day, but not quite as good as if it had been Sea Monkey Day or perhaps Wiggle Your Toes Day.

ask me, i know

2007-02-15T00:21:00.000-07:00

Subtitle: This Valentine's Day I am Solving Your Relationship Problems Because I am Smarter Than You and Also More Lovely And Generous As Well

Q: What is the secret reason women are attracted to Jerks and Players?

A: Every woman in the world is a masochist. We are too timid to ask someone to abuse us so we pick people who we think are likely to think of it independently. Ha ha, I kid. Actually, it works on the same sort of laws as economics....it's kind of like if men were a delicious pineapple. If the pineapple continually ran away from you, you'd spend days hatching wild Wylie Coyote type plans to catch it. However if the pineapple watched you sleep and wrote you poetry, you'd think, "man, actually eating too much pineapple makes my mouth burn". You understand now.

Q: How can I tell if he is "just not into me"?

A: I recommend the quickest and most painless method. Send a text message saying, "hey, are you into me? Or like, what?" Any answer besides an enthusiastic yes means no. Especially if the answer is "how did you get this number?"

Q: How can I tell at what point he is really truly committed?

A: In the sixties they had the right idea....a guy gave you a ring that was too big and a sweater that has some kind of letter on it for some reason. (A is for adultery, I remember from Hawthorne). However in this mixed up modern society, there is only one true way to tell....when he changes his myspace profile from "single" to "in a relationship".

Q: Should I read sex advice columns in magazines entitled "How to be Unforgettable in Bed" or "10 Ways to Raise his Pulse In A Way That is Sexy and Does Not Require Medical Attention"?

A: No matter what column, no matter what magazine, the answer is always going to be some kind of combination of blowjobs and schoolgirl outfits. Always. So, just don't even waste your time.

Until next time! Please send me all your troubling relationship questions. Also, if you're male and need help, just switch all the pronouns and substitute "communication and tenderness" for "blowjobs and schoolgirl outfits".

phew!

2007-02-09T01:02:00.000-07:00

I have been vacationing in a land with no internet access and no transport....I can't say I've enjoyed it. Tomorrow I get my car back but more importantly, I have full frontal internet again...oh god, oh god it's so good.

Physical Symptoms of Internet Deprivation:

Excess Salivation
Headache
Phantom Limb Sydrome
Random Typing Hand Motions
Irritability
"Junkie Shuffle"
Acne
Going to bed at a Reasonable Hour
Dreams of petting the Mozilla Firefox

Unfortunately I'm going to Edmonton for a few days now.....but one of these days you and I will catch up properly.

also, Barry White

2007-01-29T22:23:00.000-07:00

Mark and I have been having a protracted and zoomorphic myspace discussion about whether he more resembles the stone cold fox (my opinion) or the confused baboon (his). It has culminated in an article he sent me which opines that women are caulderons of unspecific lust:

Pornography studios might do well to take a tip from the Discovery Channel. According to a recent study, women are aroused by watching monkey sex. Sure, they're more aroused by watching human sex, but the loving habits of the bonobo are enough to bring out the primate in any civilized lady.

The study, conducted by Meredith Chivers of the Center for Addiction and Mental Health and J. Michael Bailey of Northwestern University, was published in the October issue of Biological Psychology. The researchers found that while straight men are only aroused by females of the human variety, straight women are equally aroused by all human sexual activity, including lesbian, heterosexual and homosexual male sex, and at least somewhat aroused by nonhuman sex.

Each subject involved in the report watched seven two-minute clips of sex: six scenes involving humans and one of bonobos. The subject constantly monitored and noted his or her subjective arousal. The subject was also affixed with a device that measured genital arousal–penis circumference for the men and vaginal pulse amplitude for the women.

All eighteen men were heterosexual and all reported subjective arousal only during the scenes with women. The objective data matched their reports: Images of our evolutionary ancestors do not make a man retrogress to Homo erectus. The eighteen heterosexual women reported greatest subjective arousal during the heterosexual scene, but their bodies reported they were less naturally selective.

Barbara Bartlik, a psychiatry professor at Cornell, said she was not alarmed by the women's response to the nonhuman stimuli.
"I don't know why this has surprised everybody that women get aroused watching humans and animals," she says. "Animals, because of the way they function in an uninhibited manner...can be very arousing to look at when they copulate."
However, Bartlik was surprised that the men did not have the same response as the women.
"I would wonder if the men weren't concerned about being labeled as homosexual or perverse by being interested in these things, and therefore their erections were inhibited," she said.

Chivers hopes to discover what specific aspect of a visual stimulus causes women to become aroused. Some experts believe mentally labeling an act as sexual arouses women. Others, including Chivers, believe innately recognized sexual features such as an erect penis, even out of their usual human context, stimulate women. She said she did not yet know how similar to humans an animal would need to be in order to elicit a sexual response from women.

So..........

1. You just know that the "device" for measuring "vaginal pulse amplitude" is some kind of dildo.

2. As if men were not desperately thinking about baseball and naked grandmas during the man-love and monkey scenes. I mean, they put a penis measurement device on someone and show them porn, and it's pretty obvious what they're trying to find out.

3. I would not leave Barbara Bartlik alone with my pets.

4. Things that also probably raise "vaginal pulse amplitude":

Babies
King Kong
Sumo wrestling
Bicycles
God impregnating Mary through the ear
Manatees mating
Bees fertilizing flowers
Acorns
Rising bread
Spores dropping from the delicate underbelly of fern leaves
Close-ups of the internal combustion engine
Home Renovation Shows
The Big Bang Theory

what we all want

2007-01-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

When I was younger I used to want to find a secret passageway to a world where there were unicorns. I was convinced it was in my backyard somewhere. I used to want a swimming pool and a tennis court and to know how to play tennis. I used to want to have a convertible. I wanted to be pretty and willowy and be an international model. I used to want my black belt in karate. I used to want to be able to buy anything I wanted, anytime I wanted it. I used to want to get lost in the jungle to see if I'd survive. I used to want to play guitar in a rock band. I wanted to be in love and I also wanted to be able to kiss every beautiful person I saw. I wanted my own boat to sail around the world. I used to want a Ph.D. I wanted to have a minimum wage job in Spain, write books and tell strangers my name was Lola. I used to want to climb Everest and also freeze my tongue to the south pole.

Now all I want.......ALL I want....is to stop gouging my hand with a screwdriver at work.

Seriously. There aren't enough band-aids in the world.

999 ways to say I love you

2007-01-24T00:46:00.000-07:00

Hello,

So, my little blog tracker thing says right now that there have been 999 people here...rolling over to a thousand by the time you read this, you doll. That's not even hits, that's PEOPLE, people. You wonderful peeps.

This makes me feel giddy and reflective...last year I thought of starting a blog, decided my life wasn't exciting enough (which is ironic really....last year? student, professional bellydancer, actively volunteering, winning mad awards and travelling. This year? Boring.) then finally decided to just put out or get out, as they say. And it's been a pretty fun ride, even though some people persist on not realizing that everything in here is so tongue in cheek I look like a chipmunk storing up for winter.

Some Trivia:

The url springs not from the fact that I am the prettiest vox of the populus, but rather from a song lyric in Ted Leo and the Pharmacists' "Timorous Me".
The title is Buy Me A Pony because it's the first thing I remember asking, and will probably be the last.
The mandate of Buy Me A Pony is threefold:

1. Feelings are boring, kissing is awesome.

2. Hyperbole is an indicator of divine origin.

3. I like attention.

Anyway, I'm entirely sure I do not know 1000 people. Even though some of you have probably been counted many times in that figure. So, if anyone out there is reading this, and I do not know you, please feel free to leave a comment introducing yourself. I am sure that we can be the best of friends. I know you're shy, but think about it. Yes, you.

Everyone else? Just keep all arms and legs inside until I have come to a complete stop. And muchas gracias.

the marshmellow bits of this weekend

2007-01-22T01:13:00.000-07:00

My favorite part of the Found Film Fest, which is like Found Magazine but with obviously, film:

Never before seen footage of Timothy Treadwell, kissing the belly of a seal for about 8 minutes straight. Pausing to say, "I would die for you!". Then back to the kissing.

My favorite part of the wrap party for the High Performance Rodeo, Called "Zaireeka: A Listening Experience", consisting of four different Flaming Lips Albums being played at once in the Big Secret Theater:

Being awkwardly hit on by this guy who was so intent he almost followed me into the womens' washroom. He later took my hand in his the way men do when they are going to kiss it....he did not kiss my hand, but also did not let go, and still tried to gesture with his arms while talking. I had to say, "um, you're kind of twisting my arm."

My favorite part of drinking afterwards with Charles, Matt and Mark:

The fact that they're all so darn charming. Also having to take back my fur hat from Charles after he had been perching it on his arm and petting it for half and hour. "I'm sorry, but you're starting to look like Paris Hilton."

My favorite part of having to stagger back home through downtown in sub-zero temperatures with Kaylen:

Me: Yup, my pantalones are definitely falling down.
Kaylen: That's the cutest thing you've said all day.

My favorite part of shaking off the hangover the next day to attend the Bridal Convention with Kathleen:

A fashion show where the models were all wearing ill-fitting gowns and walking like men. By the end we had nicknamed them all: Jiggles, Akimbo, Foxy Brown, Jailbait, and Give Me A Sandwich. Also yelling "take it off!" and "show us your teats!". Plus making fun of the coked up designer who said Canadians are smouldering volcanos.

the most fun you can have at Home Depot with your boots on

2007-01-18T02:24:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, while waiting for Kathleen's new deadbolts to be re-keyed, we were browsing the aisles when that song (you know it) "I'm The One Who Wants To Be With You" by Mr. Big comes on. I walk over to where Kath is, singing and making expansive hand gestures that indicate how much it is I, who wants the be with Her.

We then spend a few minutes making the moment perfect by slow dancing the way we did back in Grade Six when this song first set a fire in all our hearts and loins. Namely, with arms out absolutely straight, swaying minimally from side to side, and making no eye contact whatsoever.

We got a few looks, especially from this one lady. I couldn't tell if it was a frown that said, "have some more respect for the mailbox and lock aisle of Home Depot" or if it said, "my those lesbians are becoming bold".

Either way, if I made one old Asian woman's day more surreal, then I have been a success.

despite the wallet with the skulls on it, I mean

2007-01-18T02:11:00.000-07:00

So two events happened simultaneously last night: I got out of my bath, and Samantha tried to push down the garbage in her garbage can, forgetting that she threw away a razor blade.

(And we're not talking like a shaving razor, with pink daisies...we're talking about the real deal)

So we set off for the hospital at midnight, me dripping water and Sam dripping blood.

When we finally got there, we're checking in and explaining and the triage nurse asks....."so you're saying this was an accident though, yes?"

Look, I know that the words "razor blade" plus black-haired teenager probably set off some alarm bells. But lady, we're from Bragg Creek. We only get so emo, and no emo-er. The worst we're guilty of out here is bad poetry with the words "inevitable", "desolate" and an ABAB rhyme scheme.

another year, better dressed, just as drunk

2007-01-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Freaking Belated New Year

Laine, me, Marsha....stunning and conveniently organized by height

This is entirely an unnecessary amount of force to open a cracker. But note how well it matches my dress.

feeding on externally validated self-esteem antelopes

2007-01-08T01:44:00.000-07:00

Ooh, ooh. Look what I randomly found. I love it, love it, when people try and cover up their bitter rants by presenting it as an astute sociological observation. Especially when using esoteric metaphors.

I’m not dating a hot girl anymore. In two senses:1.) I broke up with my attractive girlfriend. (ed. note: "My girlfriend broke up with me") 2.) I’ve decided not to date a hot girl again.

HOT GIRLS = BAD. LESS HOT GIRLS = GOOD. (ahem)

Dating a hot girl is great, since you’re constantly thinking about having sex with her, and you get to. It’s really fantastic. BUT!! (and this is a big BUT) it comes at a cost. Gather ’round, children.

Girls are like starving jackals when it comes to complements. Complement them on their shoes, and they’ll stave off complement starvation for a little bit….but they’ll need to feed again. Soon. Hot girls are the fat jackals that get food tossed to them. They go through their day being admired, stared at, and complemented for everything they do from buying a bagel to passing gas (”Dude, that hot girl farted.” “AWESOME!”) so they begin to define themselves by their hotness. Because they’re validated so regularly, hot girls get a self-esteem defined by others, and a sense of entitlement that could match your average NBA player.

Not-as-hot girls don’t have this problem. They learn to validate themselves through their own self confidence and self worth. A complement here and there is nice, but they are the fit, scavenging complement jackals that can make it through a harsh winter without any “Hey you’re hot”’s.

So, less-than-totally-hot girls of the world unite. I am going to date you. Like, uh, even more than before.

So, less-than-hot girls, unite! This man, who is a total prize, is going to date all of you in an apparently united way. I don't know how he expects to lure the pack of you in, seeing as you can make it through a harsh complement winter.

Ha ha ha...the worst thing of all is, he's completely correct. Speaking for all hot girls everywhere, I'd like to say: "Complement me right now or I'll gnaw the tires off your Landrover."

"Dude, that hot girl is waiting to scavenge the gazelle corpse when the lions are through!"
"AWESOME!"

an evening with Captain Zigzag

2007-01-08T00:12:00.000-07:00

The best thing about today was, Kaylen is finally home. Which meant we went right back to our old traditions, namely haunting Higher Ground and watching too many adult swim cartoons. When we arrived at Higher Ground many tables were occupied, so we asked the old gent leaving if we could take his table. He stayed behind to take our dainty hands in his and ask our names, and introduce himself as Captain Zigzag. Which turned into an entirely-too-long conversation full of some little gems.

CZ: "...when my daughter was born, I got to be the babycatcher. It was harder than you'd think. When babies pop out they're all red and wet and covered in goo..."
Me: "Buddy, we're trying to have coffee here."
----
Me: "Are you a real Captain?"
CZ: "Well it's a funny story there. You see..."
Me: "But are you a real Captain?"
CZ: "I'm telling the story! You see..."
Kaylen: "Does it involve a boat at some point? Or else we're not interested"
Me: "Or a starship"
----
CZ: "...so I went to sea with hardly any training, no navigation, only a few courses. Our first night out, there was a huge storm. It was a real trial by fire."
Me: "...or, water."
----
CZ: "Then I quit smoking for a long time. When my wife died, I wondered, should I take up smoking again? Or not take up smoking?"
Me: "This is a lot like Hamlet."
CZ: "I love Shakespeare! Are you familiar with the speech from "As you Like It"?
(Proceeds to launch into recital, with arm gestures)
"The infant, mewling and puking in his nurses arms!"
Kaylen: "Ugh, no babies"
CZ: (pausing) Well, Shakespeare was quite visceral..."
Me: "No viscera either"
(continuing)
"Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, creeping like a snail, unwillingly to school!"
Kaylen: "Snails don't go to school."
---
Kaylen: "So I take it you were a drama major."
CZ: "I'm trying to explain that we are all actors, on the stage of life!"
Kaylen: ""No, but seriously..."
----
CZ: "Now I work as a general contractor......of life!"
Me: "Is everything metaphorical with you?"
----
Marc, later on: "I work as a general contractor...on your mom"
----
CZ: "I gave up my SUV, now I'm totally green. I ride my bike everywhere, or take the bus. Hardly use any gas"
Kaylen: "Why not, it's there to be used"
Me: "Yeah, those dinosaurs died for our sins"
Kaylen: "Screw the dolphins"

As you can tell, after the initial amusement we were giving off "please go away" signals that weren't having much affect. After he finally left we breathed a sigh of relief, only to have him come back to fetch his keys. He starts talking again and I, sensing a clever escape, start talking to Travis at the next table. 20 minutes of inane crazy old man chatter go by, until Kaylen starts getting a little desperately mean.

CZ: "I get it! You want me to stop talking and leave you alone! I'm sensing with my intuitive third eye that you wish I hadn't forgotten my keys! Well then. Au Revoir!"

Kaylen: ".....I hate you."

'tis the season to get busy

2007-01-07T01:29:00.000-07:00

Heavens to Betsy! You don't think it's a coincidence that most people's anniversary is around Christmas, do you? That's because it's the time of year for romance....the time of year when everyone leaves their house, goes to parties, becomes imbued with holiday spirit(s), and don't even get me started on Mistletoe.

Actually, I've never even seen Mistletoe, much less been kissed by anyone in its presence. Where the hell in the world do they grow Mistletoe? Am I even spelling that right? Isn't it poisonous? Is poison romantic? Many questions arise....

Anyway, this past holiday season has been especially romantic for those I roll with...Kathleen is getting married (wedlock! yowza), Kaylen is getting chapped lips somewhere in the USA, Laine and Marsha are getting to be tame, settled relationship ponies, and me?

Me, I've been dating. December was open dating season, on me. I shan't say too much, but it has ranged from the bad (one guy who, through a slight misunderstanding, is under the impression I am a raging racist), the strange (finding out you have the same last name as someone you're on a date with), and the (quite possibly, we'll see) good.

So, who am I sleeping with this month?

A frog.

My sister has gifted me with a fuzzy frog which contains a hot water bottle. It has been going to sleep with my icicle toes and making me happy. And I have to say, that until I can replace the hot water bottle with the supple thighs of some young thing, it's a pretty damn good bedfellow.

I hope you all are sharing your bed with someone, or something, equally pleasant.

for my 50th blog we are doing something RACY

2007-01-03T22:37:00.000-07:00

trust me that I don't want to become a loser who just links YouTube instead of writing....but for this i'll make an exception. Surprisingly catchy.

my post boxing day impulse buy?

2006-12-30T23:16:00.000-07:00

Rare moths.

I was going to tell you exactly how and why I have purchased these exquisite moths, but I think it's more fun just to tell you that I have and leave you to wonder about shady back alley deals with entomologists.

Luna Moth (Actias luna)

Death's Head Moth (Acherontia atropos)

it was a very good year in review

2006-12-28T00:30:00.000-07:00

My Own Top Ten Albums (take that, FFwd)

1. Belle and Sebastian-The Life Pursuit

2. Islands-Return to the Sea

3. Hawksley Workman- Treeful of Starling

4. Cat Power- The Greatest

5. Yo La Tengo- I am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass

6. Neko Case- Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

7. KT Tunstall- Eye to the Telescope

8. Swan Lake- Beast Moans

9. The Elected- Sun, Sun, Sun

10. TV on the Radio- Return to Cookie Mountain

Honorable Mentions:

Tom Waits- Orphans
The Be Good Tanyas- Hello Love
Sufjan Stevens- The Avalanche and Songs for Christmas
Woodpidgeon- Songbook

...and from me

2006-12-25T12:54:00.000-07:00

how I learned to stop worrying and love the good people at A-1 Affordable Locksmith

2006-12-17T23:39:00.000-07:00

One night this week I went out with the charming and erudite Jessie Forman, for a pint or two at Michaelangelo's. (Motto: We Have Many Kinds Of Beer But The Servers Are Elusive and Please Don't Think About The Unfortunate Lives Of These Couches)

Later that evening, returning to Kathleen's abode flushed with artistic genius* and (apparently) superhuman strength, the key twisted off in the lock. I shook my tiny fist at the heavens and cursed vehemently, before slinking off to spend the night under the Centre Street Bridge drinking Boone's from a paper bag.

The next day at work I called the A-1 Affordable Locksmithing company, to whine about how God hates me. We had a rather pessimistic conversation about which house did or did not belong to whom, and fate, and the projected starvation curve of the domestic housecat. Until we verbally stumbled across the fact that I have both halves of the key. And that this meant a copy might be made.

So I hopped in my rental car*, newly provided by my insurance, and rushed over there. They took both halves of the key into the back, did whatever it is they do to keys, (I only heard "klattu barada nicto"), and came back with a few versions of a new key that would hopefully provide salvation. And all for $4.80.

Success!

*Sometimes people, when drunk, talk of vacations they will never actually take or old friends they will never get in touch with. Jessie and I plan massive art events that we will probably never fill out AFA proposals for.

*My rental car is pretty sweet, but smells like they gave the interior a good spritz with Old Spice. Seriously, it smells like a suave, sexy, older man. Like driving inside of a CEO. What's up with that, Enterprise Rent-A-Car?

i know what i'm getting for christmas...

2006-12-12T23:35:00.001-07:00

Today at work I was pretty bored on my break. Not bored enough to go back to work. So I started following random news threads on the MSN homepage....there was one promising looking message board on the topic "The Stupidest Thing I've ever Wasted Money On".

I found this exchange:

Bought 5000 bushel of Corn futures in 1978. I remember it well - that was going to be my ticket to wealth - I spent many nights at the library going thru old WSJs and plotting price charts, I had a 3-ring binder full of point-and-figure charts. (If only Al Gore had invented the net a few years earlier it would have taken about an hour).

Phil5185, what are bushels of Corn futures...I am guessing it is some program that flopped since I have never heard of it.

No, no flop, it's very much alive. The Chicago Board of Exchange (CBOE) is a major Exchange for commodities- it is similar to the NYSE for stocks. The CBOE trades grain (corn, wheat, soybeans), metals (gold, silver, copper), oil, coffee, orange juice, and many others. They are traded as a 'future' contract for the delivery of the commodity at some future date. If you buy one contract (5000 bushel) of corn for Dec 2008, it will be delivered to you on that date unless you sell your contract before the date. So, it's still there, feel free to take your chances, lol.

This raises some questions for me...mostly, why was this a bad investment? He doesn't say how it went wrong. I don't think there has been a major drop in the value of corn since 1978. Not that I do a lot of commodities trading, but, it's not a cassette player, it never goes out of style...

Is there less available corn per capita? Did something bad happen to his specific corn? Dry rot? Rats? Marauding chickens?

Also, who thinks that corn from the future is the fast track to untold riches? Maybe that's why it's a bad investment. You have to wait until 2008 and you only make 2 cents per cob.

Anyway, the really intriguing thing here is the potential this has as a present. I mean, I know most likely doesn't happen this way, but "it will be delivered to you on that date" brings to mind this scenario.........

One wakes up on a crisp December morn years in the future. The warmth of the blankets contrasts with the frost on the windowpane. The peacefulness of the day is suddenly shattered by a rumbling and shaking in the very foundations of the house...one looks out the window to see 50 large mining trucks approaching bearing...is that.....is it....CORN!!?

Seriously think about giving this to me or others for christmas. It will definitely be a surprise....it may be the fast ticket to wealth! You can just tell your loved one that you have bought them 5000 bushels of corn. And of course, don't tell them on what day (or year) it will be delivered.

cohen apocrypha

2006-12-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

Overheard today while christmas shopping in the "Poetry" section of Chapters.....

Shaggy-haired guy in Matthew Good T-shirt, to bleached out girlfriend:

"I heard this story from a friend when I was going to school back east. The mother of my friend had had a one-night stand with Leonard Cohen. The next morning he hopped out of bed, put on his pants, and said "Darling, I would love to stay. But I am a poet." then turned and walked out the door."

1. I really hope this is true.
2. Finally. A line I can use for those awkward mornings after.

kind of an existential problem

2006-12-06T21:42:00.000-07:00

So, tonight I was perusing Megatunes and they were playing Sufjan Stevens' christmas album. I'm just still not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, everything Sufjan touches turns to awesome. Including Christmas music. Which I hate. So I was listening to it going, "lovely! That's a lovely banjo riff! This is totally enjoyable!"

Then the other part of my brain went, "yes, but you're singing 'pa rum pa pum pum'. With feeling."

I feel unresolved. Still, it's better than Manheim Steamroller's christmas album, which my mom drags out every 24th.

my motive in posting this?

2006-12-06T00:29:00.000-07:00

Just because I know it will freak Kaylen out. That is all.

carma owes me

2006-12-03T21:51:00.000-07:00

I've discovered what makes the term "terrible tragedy" unredundant. It's the amount of beauracracy involved. For instance, if your cat is run over in the street, that is merely a tragedy. Because all you have to do is dig a hole in the garden and plunk the cat into it. Maybe have the kids make a cross that says "Muffkins", so you know not to dig that spot up when planting carrots. Or if you're really lucky and live in Canada, you can throw the cat in the freezer and forget about it until the ground thaws enough to dig.

However if someone runs over your Civic, it becomes a terrible tragedy. Because all your days off for the week will be consumed by car related paperwork, and you may not have a car again, for months! For a small sample of the terriblilty of this tragedy, witness my day....

I have been informed by the insurance company that the first thing I need to do is file a police report. They also need to see the car and put an inspection sticker on it. So today I set off in Bustopher, driving him for the first time since he was beat up by a '91 Buick LeSabre. Half way to the police station, the front tire blows. I call my dad and he comes to change the tire, because the jack in my car is missing a part. (who knew?) So we both freeze our butts off, then I go to take off in the car, which much to my distress is still making horrific grinding noises. My dad surmises that something is wrong with the axle, and we call a tow truck, which only takes 45 minutes to arrive instead of five hours, because we are in a high danger position on the side of the the Trans Canada. So I learned one thing today...always break down on the side of a main road. If your car breaks down on a side street, push it onto a main road.

So I phone the police and ask them what I should do now that the condition of my car has changed from "driveable but unattractive" to "lawn ornament". I go in to give my statement, which involves, of course, paperwork. The highlight is that I drew an extremely nerdy diagram of the accident, which the officer loved. I have to say it was a masterpiece greatly influenced by four years of art school, although my car looked a bit like a hamster.

So now I need to go the mechanic's, give them the paperwork, have them call the police to come there and do an inspection, get estimates on the mechanical damage and the autobody work, make appointments to have all this work done, and of course wait for all the insurance to go through. Thank goodness I'm living in Marda Loop now....I sense a lot of walking in the immediate future.

Chorus: Holy Moly is that Unfortunate, Dude.

Amen.

hear ye

2006-12-03T00:51:00.000-07:00

O Bustopher Jones! 'Tis a long life to always be longing for a vehicle of such prowess as thou. Thou art powerful, like Godzilla, yet soft and yielding like a meringue pie. A valiant heart, stalwart spirit and modified air intake are but mere symbols of thy fearful symmetry!

Chorus: A coat like burnished onyx and a deep-throated roar possessed he!

Yea, ...and verily thou were hated despite great qualities, and ignominious fiends plotted to maim and scar thy perfection. Ye were greviously injured on the 30th day of the eleventh month, your fate was writ upon the dewy ground in shattered glass and burned rubber.

Chorus: Oh Woe! Woe to Bustopher Jones! Noblest of steeds!

Thy autobody is broken, but thy spirit carries you across the macadam of this undeserving city! Like a great Hind, who struggles through the snowy wood despite the hunter's arrow, leaving a crimson trail, thou shalt continue throughout Calgary despite a mild drip of radiator fluid and the vicious taunts of those who can no longer see thy beauty.

Chorus: What justice can there be? What justice for one who once flew so high? Now brought so low? Bustopher Jones, once proper insurance procedures are established, we shall anoit thy wounds with all the balm in Gilead. There will once again be a twinkle in thy headlights...it has been sworn.

married to the sea

2006-11-27T13:07:00.000-07:00

You know kids, as many times as I've gone to Toothpaste for Dinner to get a daily dose of the giggles, I have for some reason never clicked on the link to his other comic, Married to the Sea.

It's awesome. Not only because I love those old fashionedy woodcut illustrations. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you should check it out.

an ague hath MY ham

2006-11-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

Holy Moly. Those of you in other climes don't know how lucky you are. It's been in the negative degrees here for what feels like forever. The roads are skating rinks. I did a 360 in Bustopher Jones twice today. (Which is pretty fun by the way. I feel like a stunt driver. I'm not entirely sure the second time wasn't on purpose.)

Every time I come home I think I have frostbite on both my feet and the only cure is to sit with my toes in a bucket of hot water, lean on my St. Bernard and take small sips of brandy.

In honor of this winter of my discontent, I would like to publish the parody poem "Ancient Music" by Ezra Pound.

Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us, An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am,
Goddamm, So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.

Ezra, dude......I know how you feel.

happy birthday kathleen!

2006-11-25T02:03:00.000-07:00

She is the best of friends, the finest of cooks, the most creative of artists, a genius with a welding torch, the most wily of roller derby babes and the scariest of the nuclear cheetah mutants.

If you mess with me, she will EAT you, bitches!

hello, freud

2006-11-25T01:34:00.000-07:00

Moving on.....because a girl can only be called Hitler so many times before her head won't fit through the door!
I have been having some strange dreams as of late. I'm not sure if they are always so weird or if I have just been having too much rich cheesecake right before bed. Anyway, I thought I'd share a few and try and interpret the boggy marsh that is my mind.

1. The Albatross

One of the saddest things I saw this summer was an albatross in the Galapagos islands. It had broken its own egg while trying to move it. I think they only lay one egg a year or something. Anyway, it was a tragedy. For some reason this albatross keeps appearing in random situations in my dreams. With funny blue feet, waddling on by....

Secret Inner Meaning: I should have an omelet tomorrow.

2. Airplanes

I was visiting two guy friends who had just both gotten their pilots' licence. So we went up in the air in their fabulous WW2 style biplanes with propellors. I was riding in the back with the goggles and scarf, but for some reason one of my friend's girlfriend was out on the wing of the plane playing drums. Like, with an entire drum kit. It was amazing until we were shot down by the Red Baron and came tumbling out of the sky, planes, drums and all.

Secret Inner Meaning: The White Stripes should hire me to direct their next video.

3. Winged Liposuction Needles

It's like a scene out of Fantasia. Dawn breaks in the forest and I come dancing and leaping over a hill. Pursued by thousands of, well, syringes with wings that want to partake of the nectar of my muffintop. There is classical music, choreography and twirling as they feed like hummingbirds, leaving me as gaunt as a 14 year old russian gymnast.

Secret Inner Meaning: Maybe less cheesecake?

Other ways in which I am much like Hitler:

2006-11-22T01:06:00.000-07:00

1. Both art students

2. Delusions of grandeur

3. Plotting genocide against an innocent and gentle people. Hitler, the Jews. Me.....Sea Monkies.

4. Neither of us can be trusted to not eat the last piece of cake.

5. Small yet distinguished mustache.

more fun rants

2006-11-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

First of all, I know I am going to hell for making fun of this guy. I am comfortable with that.

You may remember Chris from a very early blog entry wherein he called me Hitler. No wait....WORSE than Hitler. Yet with Chris the fact that you are not writing to him is no deterrent to him writing you...so here are a few gems from random crazymail I have recieved lately.

Hi Rhianna,I have a strong urge to take pictures of Kensington as well, winterbackdrop, perhaps walk around Kensington.Yes, a smooth idea. You can take me to all the places you wanted to go andor did check out when you worked at the Roast' deuce. I would like to see Kensington through your eyes.

First of all. There is a sense in how this email is written that I suggested we get together at some point. Which is, sadly, untrue. Kaylen suggested that he is trying to subliminally trick me into thinking getting together was my idea. Or else he is confused about the use of the words "as well". I'm also not sure why he would want to see Kensington from a viewpoint about 1.5' lower to the ground.

I want to talk to you. Not sure what to say. But it will be interesting to see your mischievous smile that follows a particularly clever and wit-filled remark.

I feel like this is really presuming a lot about my side of the conversation. Or possibly, his.

The innocent smugness and the portals that are youreyes giving me a glimpse into the truth untold of what you are truly thinking. Also, you're tiny and cute which makes you adorable.

Represented mathematically, that would be tiny + cute = adorable. An equation only slightly less revolutionary than e=mc squared. Also....."innocent smugness?" Am I being accused of innocent smugness? Is that an oxymoron? Is "untold truth of what you are truly thinking" an oxymoron? Also......portals? My eyes have often been described as limpid pools, but not portals. They are not doorways on Star Trek.

As well, you havedone some interesting things with your time on this planet and sharedintimate thoughts with me before that it will be interesting to see howlife unfolded for the other member of this "conference --to be determinedin a not too distance future." Mine is a tale of mixed success' andfailures and am on the presipus of a total new road pulling me into anofframp lane, with destination unknown, but it's going somewhere andpretty damn fast. Long-time a' coming.(insert synonym for either "also," or "as well,") things have stayed the same.

At the risk of sounding like Bill Clinton, I did not share intimate thoughts with this man.
I'm not sure the whole driving metaphor works that well, as it's been overdone. "Life is a Highway" and so on. Being that a precipice is a cliff edge, I'm not convinced that there could ever be a precipice of a total new road pulling you into an offramp lane. Unless the roadrunner had set up an elaborate trap for you by moving street signs around.

Kaylen: "My next cat will be named "Presipus"

Yes....the Presipuss of Despurr.

Top 5 Most Embarassing Cars To Be Killed By

2006-11-19T01:47:00.000-07:00

1. A Yaris
2. Smart Car
3. Mini Cooper
4. Volkswagon Rabbit/Beetle
5. Dune buggy

and i'll throw in a goat

2006-11-19T01:34:00.000-07:00

Today Kathleen and I went down to Artmarket at Telus Convention Centre to see what there was to see and size up the competition... (The competition sucks, is our general consensus). However since I've never been to a christmas sale before that I paid to get into, I was determined to find an impulse buy. Kathleen outpaced me early on in spending, and I was finding very little in the way of objects I had a burning desire to own and fondle.

Sometimes I am a sucker for very nice pottery, for reasons I cannot explain. We came across some stylish noodle bowls with pretty glazes, funkified asymettrical design and those awesome divot/hole combinations where you can rest your chopsticks. I was musing out loud how it didn't really make sense to start buying nice dinnerware until I have my own aparment. Kathleen said I should just buy them anyway. Says I...."maybe I could just store them away somewhere. I could get a hope chest! You know....a dowry."

So the point of this is that I now have a dowry. I'm starting small but it will grow. Right now marrying me means that you get a really nice noodle bowl. However, after I make a quilt and needlepoint some pillows...I am one eligible bachelorette. I am accepting marriage proposals in writing, starting 9 am monday morning.

Did I mention the bowls even came with chopsticks?

that's it baby, shine for the camera

2006-11-15T22:47:00.000-07:00

Phew!

Not only did I have 8 hours of day labour, but tonight was the night I got to do all the photos for the New and Improved Rivet Kitchen Catalouge. Kathleen was at diving lessons, so I got the short end of the stick and Samsonite case of metal bits.

2 hours later I was covered in bags and various pieces of mat board. Trying to take a picture, hold a piece of white paper over the camera to cause nice reflections, cover the design on my t-shit so it didn't reflect pink, wearing gloves to not leave fingerprints on the metal object, and steadying my elbow with my knee because tripods are for ladies. I accidentally shot this picture of myself in one of the many mirrors around the photo booth. I think it speaks volumes about the intensity and subtle awkwardness of the situation.

crumpled garbage bags are an important photographer's tool

All so I could bring you, and the world, incredible jewellery pornography like this:

Oh yeah. You're a naughty naughty gold pin aren't you. I bet you'd like me to wear you all day... and all night!

I think I speak for all of us when I say, "bling".

warning: nerd post

2006-11-10T23:58:00.000-07:00

STARK TREK!

Much like the original Next Generation series, however....

1. Much less emphasis on set design.

2. The holodeck is always offline. When it occasionally works, will only recreate LeCorbusier houses.

3. Riker no longer plays the trombone, but the triangle.

4. Deanna Troi starts wearing turtlenecks.

5. Only every 1 in 100 planets has evolved life. Mostly amoebas.

6. Q only has the power to reheat lukewarm coffee and instantly moisturize skin.

7. Guinan wears bowler hats and serves only gin and tonic.

8. Data is the size of a city block and has less computing power than a handheld calculator.

9. Riker: "Captain....is that a zen garden on your desk?"

Picard:"Why yes....is it too much?"

zombies are amok in the newspaper business

2006-11-09T00:53:00.000-07:00

Some of you may have seen this Opus comic in the paper on Sunday. (click here if you want to see it larger)

I don't know how many of you know the history of Opus and Berkeley Breathed in general. (He has the best name ever, by the way. ) He started out writing Bloom County in the 80's, and Bloom County was one of the best comics, to me anyway. It was like Doonesbury but much funnier. Not a lot of people seem to know it even though it was nationally syndicated. Anyway, something happened, he got dropped from the paper here for going to far with a joke. I can't remember, it may have been something about Donald Trump. Anyway, he eventually stopped writing Bloom County and started writing Outland. This change scared me, since like all people I fear change, but Outland was actually quite decent as well. (Note: my facts may not be all totally factual, but will do for this post)

Then....for a long, long time, nothing. All of a sudden sometime recently papers started carrying Opus. This announcement was greeted with great joy by myself, until I realized that it wasn't funny anymore. Hardly ever.

Which brings me to this cartoon above. If anyone else is a fan of Bloom County you might recognize the exact same joke from when Opus campaigned for the Meadowcrat party in '88. The dialouge was something more like, "it's the Petersen kid dressed as an iguana!" but it's the same joke.

These facts lead me to two theories.
1. Berkeley Breathed died and his reanimated corpse is being held in suspension by an evil cartoon syndicate and forced to write this new Opus. Of course, since he is dead, his creativity is running at an all time low.
2. Berkeley Breathed died and there is a sophisticated computer producing the new Opus cartoons. They fed all the old Bloom Counties into it and tried to work it like some kind of Burroughs cut up machine. However on this comic the randomizer didn't work and it completely reproduced the same joke.

One of these is true. I mean, have any of you actually seen Berkeley in person lately?

a little retro tooth comedy

2006-11-08T02:09:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was doing a little housekeeping on my email inbox (sweeping under the fridge, removing cobwebs) and I came across this little gem that a lot of you may remember. From three or four years ago when I got my wisdom teeth out and decided to write an email to everyone I know while high on Valium. It's the kind of comedy that never goes out of style.

hi everyone,

O had my teeth out today. I'm writng to let you all know I'm
okay and I've never written an email before on heavy drugs so
it's fun. It's hard to concentrate and I'm dizzy. They tried to
do local, but I sais no way mr. densits man, and so they put me
on valium or something. lots of it. Apparerently I was
concsious for it but I don't remember much except for some
little bits.
Oh they also decided to take all 4 teet instead of 2, let me know
last minute, wjaever!
So I rememeber sort of watching sailor moon, and then it all
got fuzzy, and I remember then doign stuff near mu mouth, I
don't know what exactly. And they said okay, we're taking your
teeth out right now and then he touched them with a magic wand
and poof they just fell out. Or that's how I rememmber it. And
then afterwards they gave me the teeth to play with and I kept
dropping them.
Then I don't remember anything else until I woke up at six,
even though we had a ride home, and an informative after tooth
care video,a nd apparently I pulled out all my gauze.
Mom says they had to carry me around and I laughed my head off.
SO at six I had some ice cream soup, and some pills, and then
slept again till midnhight. Now's I've just take another t3 and
so maybe that's why this email is fuckt. I'm going to try and
sleep again. There has been very little pain through all the
drugs. mmm drugs. my mouth feels lighter. I've been making my
teeth have litle battles with themselves.
That
s all for now
Rhianna

the abject horror of pants

2006-11-07T23:18:00.000-07:00

Well, it's that time again. The time that comes every 8-12 months in a girls' life. You may be speculating here on the event I am referring to, (cutting your toenails? cleaning the bathroom sink?) but it turns out that I have just worn holes in the crotch of another pair of jeans.

The scientific reason this happens is that many women, women very different than say, the always delightfully skeletal Keira Knightly, have a whole different body part at the top of the thigh. The french refer to this area as the Bulgè. While walking this area creates a frictional process that eventually wears through the toughest of denims. If I were a cricket, I assume it would also attract me a mate.

I find the buying of new pants to be a very unenjoyable process. I tend to change size a great deal throughout the day. My mass in the morning after 8 hours of sweaty, restless dreams about Wentworth Miller is much different than when I return from a whole day of rampaging through villages eating the townspeople. Or sometimes downtown Tokyo. Either way, there is a noticable variation. In fact if you place me against a dark background you will see my outline blur as I rapidly flick between various dress sizes.

This is hard because pants, unlike shirts, are supported on the human body not by sturdy shoulders but through the assumption that one has a narrow part of a torso that blends gradually towards the larger hip area. If you have a body that does that, bully for you. However if your pants fit on you roughly the way an egg cup gently cradles an oviod, then you are bound to have problems.
I suppose possible solutions are buying stretchy waistband pants, or wearing suspenders, but I think the actuality of this is fairly terrifying to contemplate. Therefore this is going to leave me in the mall at some point soon, surrounded by jeans, contemplating some sort of teflon thigh insert technology.

do canadians dream of sexy mounties?

2006-11-03T21:02:00.000-07:00

That question only has one correct answer, and that answer is yes.

So, most of the time I'm a fairly good hippie who hates tv. The sins of tv are legion...the one that comes to mind is the fact that they are playing reruns of Survivor. As if having Survivor exist wasn't bad enough, someone had the bright idea that, "hey! I bet all those morons who watched this show are actually NOSTALGIC for the first series, seeing as we've been running it for 5000 years!"

However, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So to balance out Survivor reruns, there are also now reruns of the most under-rated show in tv history....

DUE SOUTH.
" ...about the adventures of a principled Mountie (Fraser), his deaf, donut-snatching wolf, and a couple of sarcastic police detectives in the windy city of Chicago. "

Seriously people. This show is a shining jewel. I have learned so much from it. Mostly that you can solve any problem with the right parable about Caribou. So much for Canadian stereotypes!

In case you were wondering, I can tell you right now which episode is the best episode. It is called "All The Queen's Horses", has Leslie Nielsen, and the plot synopsis goes:

Fraser is re-united with Sergeant Buck Frobisher as Fraser and his boss, Meg Thatcher, accompany the R.C.M.P.'s Musical Ride on its North American tour. A film crew accompanies the tour, ostensibly to make a documentary of the thirty-two red-coated riders and their thirty-two black stallions. Unfortunately, the film crew is not a film crew, but a terrorist cell who take control of the train and gas the Mounties into unconsciousness, planning to ransom them for millions in Canadian cash. The only ones left awake and able to fend off the villains are Fraser, Thatcher and Frobisher, whose ingestion of "Moose hock rolled in wild boar tongue and covered in gorgonzola cheese" has left him with his own gaseous problems.
As Thatcher and Fraser struggle to save their fellow Mounties, their suppressed desires for each other mount, resulting in a frantic kiss on the roof of the runaway train as it heads for....well, a tunnel.
The situation becomes even more dire when Fraser and Thatcher are captured by the terrorists and Frobisher is left to save the day alone. Well, almost alone. Fraser's ghostly father, Fraser Sr., takes this opportunity to re-acquaint himself with his old friend Buck Frobisher. As Fraser is forced to read the terrorists' demands for ransom money, Frobisher and Fraser Sr. set out to stop the train.
Soon notified of the ransom demand, Ray and the FBI attempt to stage a rescue from the outside while Frobisher and Fraser Sr. try to learn the fine points of train engineering only to find out that the train has already been tampered with. The terrorists have no intention of stopping the train. They're planning to kill everyone on board.
Finally, some quick footwork from Thatcher buys Fraser and her their freedom and, joining forces with Frobisher, they succeed in waking the Mounties and stopping the train. As the terrorists attempt to escape across the open fields, they find themselves facing the whole Musical Ride charging them, battle lances at the ready and a thirst for justice burning in their eyes.

Now, if after reading that (especially the last sentence) you don't want to spend the rest of your life tracking down old episodes of this show, then I don't think we can be friends.

The stars that burn brightest burn quickest.....Due South we hardly knew ye. All I know is today I really feel the horrible itchy burn of injustice, in that I cannot marry fictional characters. I am going to bed to contemplate how hard it would be to remove a Mountie uniform with my teeth.

get a pen ready. the people's pundit answers

2006-10-31T01:08:00.000-07:00

For some reason I get sent a lot of those surveys that people want you to fill in. Heck maybe you all do as well. I fill out about one a year so as not be considered rude. Here is one that Jessie sent me....I only answered about half the questions before something shiny in the corner stole my attention. And I deleted ones that didn't amuse me. It's like trying to make a parrot take the SAT's, so take what you can get.....enjoy and be educated.

1. FIRST NAME? Stardust....oh you mean legally? Rhianna.

2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? A little pop song from the seventies. You may have heard of it.

3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? During one episode of Grey's Anatomy or the other. That show exists purely to suck moisture from the eyeballs of the living.

4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? In like, an existential way? I like being able to write. it's what seperates us from the animals.

5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? See question below

6. KIDS? No thanks, I just ate

7. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? If I was another person I would be stalking me, after I broke up with me in some sort of torrid romantic affair. I know I'm embarassing myself. I just don't care. How could I leave me? You'll never love anyone like I love me, baby!!!

9. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? As a rudimentary tool. Like when I can't find a hammer or nail clippers.

11. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Would I could I with a fox. Would I could I in a box.

13. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? This is really assuming a lot about shoes, and people. Many of my shoes have zippers. And I never remove them. Ever.

15. DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SEXY? Maybe if I squint. Yes, that's better....

16. SHOE SIZE? What's with the shoe questions? Who wants to know? Is this a secret online footwear marketing survey?

18. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Swarms of angry wasps. I hate when angry wasps are about myself.

28. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON THAT SENT THIS TO YOU?

Hess....will you marry me?

screw you robert frost

2006-10-29T12:58:00.000-07:00

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

hitch your wagon to my rising star

2006-10-27T13:47:00.000-06:00

So, this last week I've been delivering phone books to most of rural Bragg Creek. And, I'm sure you're curious as to why, but let's just say that I'm paying off some of my compulsive gambling debts, and leave it at that. However, it's been so boring that I've been composing a rap song about this activity to amuse myself. I'm pretty sure it'll go No. 1 on Billboard by next week.

the song begins with some ill beats being dropped over a sample of "Don't lose my Number" by Phil Collins...that or possibly 867-5309/Jenny....

(Billy! Don't you lose my number!
Cause you're not anywhere
That I can find yoooooouuuu)

Yo! These is your new phone books!
I is they ho'
They is so heavy
I can't carry no' mo' than fo'

You's got "beware of dog" signs, but that's just fo' fun,
I ain't yet bet bitten by a single one,
I is laughin', the joke ain't on me,
Yo' vicious dogs is my bitches!
Lit-er-al-lee!
(yo unless they be male dogs, yo....)

Chorus:
Deliverin' knowledge to the masses!
If you love knowledge shake yo' asses!
Phew! These numbers is really massive!
I ain't need no aerobics classes!

Yo street life be hard
and the pain of it lingers..
I got paper cuts
All ovah my fingers...

Chorus, repeat, random grunting......

I think it's got a lot of potential.

kaylen and I read more than you do

2006-10-25T23:05:00.000-06:00

it's not an insult, baby.....it's just true. So now we have a literary blog for literary thoughts and feelings. You could read it if you wanted to. And don't worry, any seriousness will probably be tempered with a distinctive sense of humour. You know, the kind we bring to any possible situation, from an escaped boa constrictor eating an old lady's poodle, to mass murder.

i read pretty

shh. everything will be okay

2006-10-22T19:51:00.000-06:00

Tonight over coffee I remarked, for a reason that escapes me, on how funny it is that some strange phobias are common enough that someone actually named them. For example, fear of knees. (Genuphobia). Now while I've seen some unattractive knees, it's a big leap to imagine being actually a scairt o' them. This prompted me to look up a list of phobias, and well, it was a good time. I present to you my own "best of" awards.

Award for If This Is A Phobia, Call Me Phobic:

Atomosophobia- Fear of atomic explosions
Ballistophobia- Fear of missiles or bullets
Panthophobia- Fear of suffering and disease.
Rectophobia- Fear of rectum or rectal diseases.
Taphophobia- Fear of being buried alive

Award for Wow That is Really Inconvienient, Dude:

Ambulophobia- Fear of walking.
Cathisophobia- Fear of sitting.
Chrometophobia or Chrematophobia- Fear of money.
Chromophobia or Chromatophobia- Fear of colors.
Teleophobia- Fear of definite plans. (hard to get these ones to show up for appointments)

Award for I'm Sorry You're Suffering but Ha Ha Ha:

Alliumphobia- Fear of garlic. (vampires?)
Paraskavedekatriaphobia- Fear of Friday the 13th. (I find the name funnier than the fear)
Arachibutyophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.
Zemmiphobia- Fear of the great mole rat (??)
Consecotaleophobia- Fear of chopsticks.
Opiophobia- Fear that medical doctors experience of prescribing needed pain medications for patients. (oh wow am I am in pain...can you give me something? what do you mean "no"? why are you running?)

Award for I Bet Most Of The Suffers Are Over 50:

Neopharmaphobia- Fear of new drugs
Ephebiphobia- Fear of teenagers.
Cyberphobia- Fear of computers or working on a computer

Award for I Hope They Clearly Mark Which "Or":

Hylephobia- Fear of materialism or the fear of epilepsy.
Homophobia- Fear of sameness, monotony or of homosexuality or of becoming homosexual.

Award for Being Diagnosed With These Would Push You Over The Edge:

Phobophobia- Fear of phobias
Hellenologophobia- Fear of Greek terms or complex scientific terminology.
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words. (this one especially is a joke, right?)

Award for Thanks For Putting So Much Effort Into Naming This:

Dutchphobia- Fear of the Dutch.

buddy, you can't expect me to draw you a diagram

2006-10-20T00:30:00.000-06:00

Hey!

On my post about San Francisco, someone left three (3!!) comments that read:

Anonymous said...
Hi, i was looking over your blog and didn't quite find what I was looking for. I'm looking for different ways to earn money... I did find this though...a place where you can make some nice extra cash secret shopping. I made over $900 last month having fun!
7:41 PM

First of all Sir or Madam, secret shopping sounds far too furitive to be a rewarding profession. I like to shop loudly and openly, possibly waving money around with both my hands and exclaiming things like "Sweet Lord 'n Butter! Look at the fine stitching on this Prada handbag!" at as many decibels as I can manage.

Secondly, and this is REALLY embarassing for you, is that my post overfloweth with prime examples of potential capitalist wet dreams. For example, where I have my picture of the Claus Olderburg with the caption that reads, " finally a safety pin you can find when you need it", it is not even a jump, not even a skip, but the barest of hops to the fact that this society desperately needs a manufacturer of 10 m tall safety pins.

That one was free. In the future though, if you're not even going to try, well then, I'm not going to keep chewing your food for you. Ayn Rand would be seriously pissed.

Good day.

Our Savior doesn't appreciate you saying there are "unflattering photos" of Himself

2006-10-18T16:24:00.000-06:00

It may or may have not recently been insinuated that, according to evidence provided by certain holiday photos from South America, I am not the most attractive woman ever to walk upon the green, green grass.

do you think it was referring to this?

because, I am willing to concede that being Jesus is not my best side.

san francisco pictures of some humour value....

2006-10-18T00:26:00.000-06:00

to me anyway.

a mural in the Mission.....Mother Theresa was always my favorite ninja with her, bread shaped throwing stars.....

I never really believed it was true, until this sign.......

In case you can't read the top....it says San Francisco Botanical Gardens.

dude, where's my heart? Oh no, I think I left it in.....

2006-10-17T15:47:00.000-06:00

SAN FRANCISCO

That's right kids. I am back from my week in the City By the Bay, which I vote to rename the City You are Thankful You Don't Have to Drive a Manual Transmission In. I was out there visiting Sydney, a magical creature who somehow convinced me to get on a plane again even though after this last year I am getting tired of removing liquids from my hand luggage and putting my seat in an upright locked position. Although going through Customs entering America is not an unpainful experience, I am thankful for the fun technique of trying to surprise terrorists with questions they are not expecting. Right after, "what is your reason for visiting?" I got asked "Do you like seafood?" I was like, ooh, ooh, I know this one!!

She mainly got me there by uttering the words "Sufjan Stevens" who we have already discussed. Turns out it was The Best Concert Ever, complete with an orchestra, choir, and butterfly wings on all the performers. It rocked my socks SO HARD. We even had our very own balcony like the grumpy guys in the Muppets, and it was from this balcony that Sufjan had hundreds of inflatable supermen thrown onto the audience during "The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts". We got to throw some of the supermen and even got to keep one. We saw many a concert over the week, also including Architecture in Helsinki and Clap Hands Say Yeah (poor sound quality and distant seats, but cool theater and not sparing with the funk) and most excitingly, a punk rock show at a seedy bar in the Mission featuring The Phenomonauts, a space/rockabilly/punk act with amazing costumes and bad jokes about binary.

my fortune cookie did say "robots will rock you"

And besides just rotting my brain with music, I actually filled it to capacity with culture on expeditions to the MOMA, the De Young (actually better than the MOMA) and to fun design stores.

syd wonders where the tiny people are who made these chairs

finally, a safety pin you can find when you need it

Truly, a week of art, music, shopping and stuffing my face full of bakery goods and saltwater taffy.

one sweet day, we'll be together

2006-10-07T00:54:00.000-06:00

It is now only three horrible, dreary, meaningless days that I have to somehow live through until I see SUFJAN STEVENS, live in San Francisco....

Oh, my!

It is almost precisely one year since I first heard the brilliant album Illinoise, which is unusually coincidental. I was somewhat down at the time and remember distinctly thinking that albums like Illinoise are a good reason not to off yourself. Because, in the future I may find other music I love this much, and well you can't enjoy poetic lyrics, grand orchestration and such sweeping vision from six feet underground with earthworms in your eyeballs, can you? (This is of course somewhat hyperbole. I would be cremated.)

I would like to say that, although I know we have balcony seats, and he will probably be a small charming speck, and there will probably be someone fat and annoying sitting beside me, and he will probably not spy me in the audience and pull me up on stage with him a la Dancer in the Dark, and in fact he probably will not even consent to sign my cleavage, I am still ever so happy about this.

Maybe if I offer to mend his t-shirt?

a few conversational gems

2006-10-03T21:07:00.000-06:00

from my evening with Ms. Hann.....

Kaylen: Are you okay? You sounded really sad when I called you this morning.
Me: Well I had just woken up a few minutes ago. I was pretty fuzzy from being asleep. Oh...and I was really sad.

Kaylen: You have to look what my mom sent me for my birthday...on the package it says it is a "throw".
(comes back carrying a skinny vertical rug)
What do I throw it on....a snake?

Me: It's funny what kind of gifts people think are appropriate sometimes. Once I got a book of animal pictures with little inspirational quotes. Things like, "we can't spell success without U!". (pause) Actually, since it was animals, it probably said, "we can't spell Penguin without U".

when life gives you lemons, make lemonade!!!

i feel pretty, and witty.....and gay

2006-10-02T18:37:00.000-06:00

To anyone who still has the misconception that modelling is glamorous...you obviously have never spent the day standing on cement in shorts while your torso was unflatteringly cast in wet sticky butcher's tape.

how much does this kick bingo's ass?

2006-10-01T22:22:00.000-06:00

"In Bingo, an announcer calls out the selected letters and numbers, and the players mark their game boards accordingly. In Lotería, the announcer gives an improvised short poem or familiar phrase alluding to the image on the card (e.g. “the coat for the poor” for the image of the sun, or “the one who dies by the mouth” for the image of the fish). Each player uses a chip -often a kernel of corn or a bean-to mark the corresponding spot on his or her tabla. In either game, the first player to appropriately fill the game board or tabla in a predefined pattern will shout either “Bingo!”or “Lotería!” to win the game and receive the prize.

Since poetic license is afforded to the announcer of Lotería, the success and popularity of the announcer depend on his cleverness and style.

The announcer’s approach will often depend on the social context in which the game is being played. At a church bazar, for example, he might use a more tame humor, while for a game played in an adult setting he might use innuendos that are more risqué and derisive. Satire and references to contemporary events and politics are often a part of the word play involved; in fact, the linking of images to social commentary has existed since the inception of the game"

one sick fetish, i tell you

2006-09-30T22:55:00.001-06:00

Tonight Kaylen finally sent me some of her wonderful pictures from my triumphant graduation at ACAD. Being a fancy event as it were, I was moved to wear high heels. However, knowing the habitual soreness of my delicate hooves, I also brought more sensible footwear to change into as the night drew to a close. However now that I was carrying around my heels, I was all of a sudden struck by the drunk inspiration that putting them on people's heads was THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD. And, as you can see here, it is.

no

2006-09-27T13:38:00.000-06:00

my own very personal review of.....

2006-09-25T20:31:00.000-06:00

The Telus World of Science!

Now that I'm not working so hard, I have time for frivolous activities like spending the day doing the same thing as all the Grade 4 students in Calgary....Science World.
I went down with Joe who seems to have the same work schedule as most of us bohemians but somehow makes 10 times the money. The top attractions of this lovely outing were:

1. Lego-Secrets of the Pharaohs

I bet you thought that learning about ancient Egypt, with all it's strange-headed gods and weird death rituals, is pretty interesting. You are so wrong. It is not half as interesting as learning about Egypt MADE OF LEGO. There is something sublime about seeing 10 identical yellow, blocky Lego slaves pulling a Lego stone to a Lego pyramid. Being whipped with Lego. Plus Lego funerary urns with Lego organs inside. (I presume, anyway. They did not actually show the organs, which is no fun.)Does anyone else think that whoever gets to build the Sphinx out of Lego has a pretty ideal job? Still, I feel like this exhibit is going to confuse small children later in life, in many ways.

2. Mindball

Mindball is my favorite new game. You and a friend sit on opposite sides of the table, wrap a headband with a cord around your head, and think concentrated thoughts at a ball in the middle of the table, causing it to roll toward the other person's goal. It can only be improved by making wavery science-fiction mind control noises as you do it. I am not exactly sure how the Theta waves of your mind are measured by a sweaty headband. But I am willing to believe. I think Mindball should be featured in every home. There should be a large Mindball table where you can play in groups, all of you sitting still with eyeballs bulging. I kicked Joe's ass of course.
Joe: "That doesn't mean anything."
Rhianna: "I think it means that I am one billion times smarter."

3. Bugs! A Rainforest Adventure.

This is a film we saw in the theater, following the lives of two bugs in the deep dark rainforest. Hirodula, a praying mantis, and Mushi, who plays both a catepillar and, eventually, a butterfly. To save you a lot of guessing, eventually Hirodula eats Mushi. A film ending at least on par with other Hollywood tragedies that feature the death of a main character, such as Harold and Maude or My Girl. The oddest thing about this movie is that it was narrarated by Dame Judy Dench...obviously your first choice of voice that you want to hear explain how the female mantis will bite of her partner's head during coitus. (Also, I feel it is okay to be a stickler for Science while at Science World, and neither of these insects are technically bugs).

4. The Bed of Nails

Nothing like teaching kids what fakers those fakirs were. By having a plexi-glass sheet you can lay on, which nails are raised up through so that you are laying on them. Not painful. Yet the small girl waiting her turn suddenly burst into tears and tried to hide behind her mother. "Look at that man, he's not crying, is he?", says the mother, and Joe obliged the girl with a large, "Look! The nails are comfortable as all git out!" kind of smile. Yet she still eyed her mother and Joe skeptically. She has probably seen grownups fake pleasure in the past to trick her, such as exclaiming "yum!" while eating broccoli at the dinner table.

Survery says? Learning is fun. And don't even think of challenging me at Mindball.

if i haven't heard it, it's new to me

2006-09-20T23:03:00.000-06:00

Today was (finally!) the day we gave the Nickle Museum all the stuff we made for them, and according to our arrangement, they should be giving us a cheque. It hardly seems fair....we had to carry in three large heavy boxes of metalwork, whereas a cheque is light and comfortable to walk around with. The gold plating festival of '06 is somewhat ongoing. Turns out complicated chemical processes are....complicated. We went to ACAD today for an opening, and one of my former teachers was telling Kathleen and I about watching them goldplating in Africa in a teacup on the side of the road. We said, "replace teacup with measuring cup, and side of the road with a garage, and that's us....". Anyway, it's good to be (mostly) done. Especially after staying up until six in the morning last night to put everything on cards and label. With Kaylen, who is now voted Best Friend Of the Rivet Kitchen, for staying up ridiculous hours to help with something that is both boring and non-applicable to her life. And for lightening-quick cat catching reflexes.

Anyway, now for the first time in the long time I have Nothing To Do. Which gives me plenty of time to grow fat off the resources of the house I am sitting. For instance, stealing some of their decent music collection, which I will be forthwith commenting upon. Mostly stuff that's been around for a while that I kind of wanted to buy, but remained faithful to my habit of picking up cd's and going, "twenty five dollars! that'll happen!".

Mermaid Avenue Vol.2: Billy Bragg and Wilco.

The general uncreative-ness of most songwriters has ruined more than one good idea I've had for a theme cd. For instance, the one I want to make about airplane songs. So far I have "You are an Airplane" by Of Montreal, and "Airplane to Heaven", which leads off this brilliant cd. I used to listen to this back in Roasterie Too days, when Paul used to play it while both baking and getting more and more irritated as I put Airplane to Heaven on repeat. On the airplane to heaven, you are totally still allowed to bring toothpaste and water bottles.

Speak for Yourself- Imogen Heap.

The first time I heard a song from this cd was when my sister was downloading stuff and started playing "Hide and Seek", and it was enough to prod me out of my couch stupor and go, "what is THAT?". Anyway, it is also a very lovely cd which I am pleased to steal. I just have two main comments. One, that although this is good stuff, I am not sure why she started a solo career to make music that sounds exactly like the music she made in Frou Frou. Two, I am thankful for the song lyrics, "why'd you have to be so cute?/it's impossible to ignore you" because I can sing it to both boyfriends and cats.

Central Reservation- Beth Orton.

This is another one from back in my Roasterie days. Back in simpler times when the main way I heard new music is when other employees left their cd's behind like metaphorical eggs for my musical easter basket. Beth Orton....everyone you know likes her, from the flakiest of hippie chicks to international hip hop artists. However, I have nothing funny to say about this one. In fact, I often get the feeling that if you listened to too much Beth Orton, you'd end up heavily sedated and restrained with no funny thoughts ever again. Gee Beth, am I sad enough yet?

Anything else worth stealing? Yes. But I'm tired now.

science genius girl

2006-09-15T23:40:00.000-06:00

It is only a few days until our contract is due with the Nickle Museum, so Kathleen and I are fully immersed in the last step of Many Metal Multiples. Namely, gold plating. You might be thinking, wow, I don't know anyone else who is neat enough to know how to plate precious metals! And you would be right, you don't.

However it is a very long process, where you cannot get distracted because you are not only working with acids, but electricity in acids. We ran out of conversation topics a few days ago and now have locked in a repetive pattern of jokes.

1. We say "Gooollllddd!" in a way similar to the way a grizzled prospector would exclaim that word after eating canned beans for three months, endlessly panning, and seeing no women but his mule, Bessie.

2. We hand out job promotions and terminations to each other at will. I was fired five times today and declared employee of the month twice.

3.Joking with more and more seriousness each time that we should just spray paint everything gold, and get a midnight flight to Tijuana.

It goes though. It is going. And it is fun to feel like a real scientist with beakers and anodes and suprisingly sexy safety gear. Here is a picture of me in the lab.

Bustopher Jones

2006-09-13T00:47:00.000-06:00

As many of you know, one of the only new and interesting developments in my life since returning from Peru, (besides what to force Kathleen to make me for lunch) is that I have purchased a new little car. It is somewhat like the one pictured above, although not surrounded by a floating neon green square. I can not actually use a picture of Buster himself (he has forbidden it, because he came with a dent in the side that he would prefer I not advertise).

However the day I bought him, I took him to the mechanic's for a wheel alignment, and they somehow managed to set off the anti-theft on the cd player. So now I can not listen to the radio, cd's, anything. And I have not time to take him to get fixed until the end of the contract next week. Therefore, I present to you, a list of the aural pleasures during my one hour-per-day commute in Mr. Bustopher Jones.

The whistling of the wind whenever I do in excess of 80 km/h. (0ften) Then I think, are all the windows closed? The sunroof? What the hell is whistling? Maybe the radio antenna cause it sticks out....maybe I'll try closing the window again, just to make sure...(repeat)

The sound of what different kinds of pavement sound like under the tires. For instance, the all weather surface outside of Redwood goes, "brrrrrrreeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhh". The normal pavement with cracks every few meters goes, "krrrrrrrrrrr(goof)krrrrrrrrrrrrrr(goof) kr(goof) krrrrrrrrr". The fresly laid pavement on Hwy 8 right before the city has a silky "ssseeeeeeeeeeee" sound. Oh and gravel sounds like rice krispies.

Myself singing bits of songs that I've heard recently. Only bits, because, I can never seem to remember whole entire songs unless I am singing along to the music, because then I can get prompts when I need them. For instance, the other day I sang one verse and the chorus to "Funny little Frog" about 50 times straight. Also, myself singing bits of songs incorrectly. For instance, when I sing "Funny little Frog", it contains awesome lyrics like "I get to be a-feelin' responsible/I come home late and unlock your door"

Actual lyrics from the Belle and Sebastian website: "I get to play at feeling irresponsible/I come home late and I love your soul" Uncreative and boring.

The sound of myself practicing having important conversations with people. Sometimes I do their voice as well, and fill in the other side of the conversation. Because if I didn't, then I'd be talking to myself, which we all know is for crazy people.

nuclear accidents...or erectile dysfunction?

2006-09-10T23:29:00.000-06:00

Don't ask how I found this...I don't know. It is a page of United States Nuclear Accident Definition Codes (apparently) used by the Department of Defense.

BENT SPEAR - A significant incident involving a nuclear weapon or warhead, nuclear components, or vehicle when nuclear loaded.

PINNACLE - BROKEN ARROW - An accidental, unauthorized detonation or possible detonation of a nuclear weapon.

PINNACLE - EMPTY QUIVER - Seizure, theft or loss of a nuclear weapon or component.

PINNACLE - EMERGENCY EVACUATION - Operations involving the emergency evacuation of nuclear weapons

FADED GIANT - Any reactor or radiological mishap that causes casualties, property damage, or significant release of radiological material.

DULL SWORD is an Air Force reporting term which appears not to derive from a single source.

ROGUE SPEAR

There are so many jokes to be made about this that I feel positively faint with the possibilities. Good ol' States, proving once again that anyone who doesn't want to fire a weapon is impotent (or gay).

the joy of ex

2006-09-09T22:45:00.000-06:00

a fun bit of correspondance with an old...not boyfriend, but something semi-like that. First he wanted to go for coffee, his treat! between old friends. Promised not to get wierd. And then...

Hi Rhianna,
I give you my word I will show up; as for weirding out, well, the future is much like a piece of cake, you never know what it tastes like until you take a bite, and by then, of course, it's too late.After September 18th is great; I have school monday-fri and work fri-sun,so lets aim for a school night if possible.I want to talk about travel, but yes, likely I will hit on you a bit, to be honest.I promise nothing, 'cept I will be there.
Love,
c

Next day:
Hi Rhianna,
Also, if we do go for dinner, it will be dutch. My last girlfriend really took the fun out of me treating her or anyone for that matter.I think likely the same for coffee. Sorry, I used to like treating, but Ihave found that people make a habit out of it and that sucks a lot of ass. Hope that's cool. I want to go out and look good and it would be nice to see you looking good as well. I want to pick your brain about travel, however, I am also excited about just seeing you.
Hope this is cool.
love,
c

I write back saying it's gauche to invite someone for coffee as your treat and then tell them they are paying for themselves. Then:

I was pretty much intent on talking about travel with a mild bit of
hitting on, it's a shame that two bucks threw you off this.
Wow, what a classy lady. Yeah, if two bucks is putting the monkey wrench
into the plans, then I think you are right, it is best if we avoid.
You are truly a class act.I am glad to have known this prior. What, did you want me to pay for your time too? Fuck that, there are a ton of people out there who have been to Thailand, I wanted to see you, that's all. I am sick to death of women like
you; you can't have your cake and eat it too. Thanks for opening my eyes before I walked into that one. Yikes, girls like you give me the creeps. You're worse than Hitler!

c

Did you get that? WORSE than HITLER, everyone. I need to go kill a jew to cheer me up. Too bad we're not going out......nothing really is clear here except that chris likes to use cake metaphors.