a (revised) tale of two chickens

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

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.

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.....

...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

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

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....

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

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

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...

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:

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

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

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....

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

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

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...

...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!

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

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:

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.