well that just fucks

Damn…I just thought that I might actually be able to coin a really good phrase. My finger slipped while I was chatting with my friend, and instead of saying, “Could be good”, it came out, “Could be god”. So I was just about to say, “Oops, Freudian slip”, but then it occurred to me that it was actually a Freudian typo. Which I thought was exceedingly clever. Of course, a million people have already thought of it, and it’s already in the Urban Dictionary - although it’s not a very interesting definition…I’ll have to see if I can come up with anything better.

Anyway, I was just a little upset because I thought I was being all witty and intellectual, but it turns out, as usual, I’m about 3 years too late.

Some people take 'bite me' too literally

I knew it was going to be a fucked up day as soon as I got up.

There’s this, I dunno, repair crew I guess, that works on the GO Train tracks behind my apartment. I says ‘works’, but in reality, I don’t know what the fuck it actually is that they’re up to. Whatever it is, they’ve been doing it for the last year and a half, since I moved into this place. There’s this one little dump truck/tractor thing who’s only function seems to be driving around backwards. So that it makes this horrible high pitched beeping noise that just makes me want to gouge my eardrums out with a chopstick. I truly believe that this thing actually can no longer drive forwards, but in typical Government of Ontario fashion, that they have elected not to fix it, and this is why it only ever drives backwards. I have spent many long hours glaring out the window at this architect of my misery, and have never, ever, seen it move forwards. Although it must – or how else could it continually return, to continue its ever present early morning torment of my sleep?

Anyway, it turns out that this infernal beeping is actually the only thing that gets my lazy ass out of bed in the morning. So, instead of the joyous rapture that I’ve fantasized about enjoying on that oh so happy day that there is finally no beeping to wrest me from my well-deserved slumber; I’m just late for work. Again. Fuck.

I have a touch of a sore throat, so I haven’t been biking into work the last few days. Back in to the warn embrace of the Toronto Transit Commission I venture once again. Now, as I believe I’ve expounded on in the past, TTC drivers are not my favorite people at the best of times, but damn, was the one this morning ever brutal. I put my $2.75 in the fare thing, and the driver tells me I didn’t pay enough! So I’m like, “Oh yes I did! Look, right there, two toonies, and 3 whole quarters. $2.75.” And of course I have no more change on me, just twenties. And there is NO WAY that I’m putting a twenty in there.

Now this driver dude, he wasn’t looking so healthy. Real grey looking. Not so much with the hand eye coordination, either. I lived through SARS, so when someone who has that much contact with the general public starts getting all in my face, I’m not too thrilled about it. “Fare went up” he says. “Since when?!?!” my indignant ass says back. “Since now, puny human. $2.75 plus brains now.”

I’m sorry, did you say BRAINS?

“Braaaains”

Ok – so it looks like it’s a cab to work morning. Really - they should give TTC drivers a psych test before they hire them, this is just getting ridiculous...

Evil Dead! The Musical, is playing in Toronto right now, again, as I’ve expounded upon in the past. The one good thing about this morning is that I noticed that they really seem to have their street team in gear. There were people dressed up as zombies everywhere! Right at the corner of King and John, near the theatre where Evil Dead is playing, there was this huge performance piece deal going on with zombies ripping the shit out of people and fake blood flying around everywhere. And damn, did the fake blood look good. It looked way more real than even the blood they used in the performance. I’ve gotta figure out where they got it from for this Halloween.

But I digress...

So, I get to work. Like an hour late. And there’s nobody there. What the fuck is up with that? Seriously. Brutal TTC driver, I waste my money on a cab, and those dicks that I work with aren’t even there. I am pissed. However, this does give me time to read. So I settle down, in the hall to wait, and read some more of Bruce Campbell’s autobiography, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor. Oh Bruce, you’re my hero…

So I sit. And I read. And I sit. And I read. And no one shows up. And no one answers their cell. And I sit. And I read. Am I pissed? You bet.

So I give up. I waited an hour. (Technically two, if you count that hour I was late.). Anyway. I go outside, and my boss is lumbering around out there. And he looks like shit. His skin’s gone all gray, too, just like that streetcar driver. It must be some nasty ass virus that’s going around. “Hey, asshole! Where have you been? I’ve been sitting in the hall waiting for you forever!”

“Need. Braaaaains”

Well, I’ve known that for while. Nice to see you finally admit it though, I think to myself. And then, he bit me! What is up with that? I mean, yeah, I suppose I can be a bit hard to work with sometimes, but that was sooo uncalled for.

So…I trudge back home. Mop up my poor bleeding arm. Do I have to get a rabies shot now? And I really feel like ass. I think I must have picked up that nasty virus that everybody has. My skin looks like shit – gray is not a good tone for me. Look, I took a pic of myself – do you think I need to go see a doctor?

>

This post was brought to you by the good people at Blog like it's the end of the world

Also, mad props to Lauren for doing up that amazing zombie pic of me and to my dear little sister Muffin for coming up with the post title.

Sorry, Pumpkins

I know, I'm a horrible little blogger. I've been very neglectful.

Well, too bad. It's warm out. The patios were calling my name :)

But now I'm sick, so I come crawling back into your warm embrace. Also, I've been very blasé lately - too emotionally drained to get up in to a good lather. But all is well, I still love you.

I do have news to report. Durham County is possibly the greatest show of all time. Hugh Dillon, who was once the lead singer for The Headstones, who I completely adore, stars in this Canadian 'mini-series', as it's being termed. Although I, personally, am not a fan of his new bald look, I still do quite enjoy that I get the chance to stare at him and drool again.

Back to the point, it's an amazing show. Completely dark and twisted, and with this creepy doll thing going on that has me completely fascinated.

Everyone should go watch it. NOW!!!

And there's even more Hugh Dillon-y goodness yet to come! In his interview on The Hour, hosted by George Oh-my-god-I-want-to-have-your-babies Stroumboulopoulos, hugh said that they're making a sequel to Hard Core Logo!!! *does cartwheels of joy*

*remembers that she can't do cartwheels and falls flat on her metaphorical ass*

Also, Hugh's new band, The Hugh Dillon Redemption Choir, is working on a new album. Hurray!

Now, for your, (OK, my), viewing pleasure:

Strippers in training

I saw the funniest thing on the way home today. There was this little girl playing out in the street with her sister, maybe like 6 years old, if that (who am I kidding, I have no idea...it was a kid, though, a really tiny one). She was dancing around and singing, doing little kid playing around-type things. Then she whet and did this crazy little pole-dance around a stop sign.

Gave me a good chuckle, that one did.

I guess they have to learn it somewhere...

Yet another angry biker...

I got a bike last week. It made e very happy. I even updated my Facebook status to 'is very pleased with her new bike.' The very first day I had my shiny new bike, I got all hyped and did a big long ride down this park along the waterfront. All the time I've lived in Toronto, and the year and a half that I've been in this particular apartment, I've never been to this park, which is a mere 10 minute bike ride from my house.

I was so pumped to start biking to work every day. It's actually quicker to bike than to take the streetcar, half an hour versus 40 minutes on the TTC (barring, of course, giant rocks falling out of the sky, shootings, random street closures, construction and the barrage of other things that have manager to intersperse themselves between me and my place of employment recently). Then you get the added benefits of exercise and saving money. Well, what's not to love?

It's taken just 7 short days for me to become one of the angry ranty bike people. Biking in a city, as a mode of transportation, SUCKS big time. Granted, as I've said before, the TTC sucks worse, so one takes what one can get, I suppose.

The second day that I rode to work, I got harassed by a majorly over-testosteroned motorcycle cop for cutting up a one way street for half a block. At least I didn't get the threatened $110 ticket! And cabbies are the absolute worse. I think the next door opens out of nowhere and almost beans me I'm gonna kick a headlight in.

More Piratey Goodness

Mythbusters just did a pirate special. 2 hour special, me mateys! As a keen pirate afficianado myself, I took careful notes. However, the episode did lack any exploration of the ninjas vs. pirates aspect of things. Don't worry though, I've filled that part in below.

Things we learned:

Eyepatches – not actually due to eye gouging (which does take out some of the romance). Apparently, the theory behind eyepatches was that pirates could always have one eye ready for nightvision, so if they had to scoot below deck during the day, there keen pirate vision would be even more powerful when the flicked off the patch.

How clever is that! Ninjas don’t have eye patches.

Mythbusters verdict: I wasn’t paying attention, but they made Adam run through an obstacle course looking like an idiot, which I enjoyed.

Rum – it’s not just for drinking anymore. Rum, as laundry detergent? Also, urine, apparently, can be distilled to ammonia, which can then be used to clean your clothes. YOU CALL THAT CLEAN?!?! Ick.

Mythbusters verdict: Busted! Rum is makes bad detergent. Well thank goodness! That there’s meant to be drunk! The wee wee did a good job getting the blood out. Interestingly, the overall worst performer was the modern detergent.

Ninjas don’t drink. Losers.

I liked the part where they shot cannon balls at the dead pigs. (which were dressed as pirates, of course!)

Myth: Ninjas are cooler than pirates. My verdict – so BUSTED!

I'm such a reality TV geek!

All of these Big Brother commercials are getting me just a tad too excited, methinks.

I don't know what my obsession with Big Brother is. This was the first reality series I ever watched. The first season of Big Brother was the greatest thing ever. Completely not typical - the contestants were all decent people, who seemed to genuinely like each other. Really. Oh, Chicken George, one-legged dude, funky hair chick, you guys were the best reality TV cast ever! No season has even come close to that first one for me. But I still shiver in anticipation for every new season.

I also want to marry Kaysar - he got so robbed. Twice.

I was a very ardently anti-reality TV person for a very long time. I was very vocally and fervently anti-reality TV even long after I'd slipped deeply into its tender embraces. Oh yes, there were many, many justifications. "Well, yes, I watch The Mole too, but that's intellectual." (This statement applied to the first season only, far before it went celebrity and became one of the most ridiculous offerings out there. And so it went...now my sole refuge is that I don't watch Survivor. Even as I type, 1 vs. 100 is on in the background. But that one's OK...because it has Bob Saget in it.

See? I still can't accept the geekdom. Maybe one day. Is there a support group for this?

Hee hee...the commercial's on again. Makes me all tingly inside.

Damn you Facebook!

Well, it's finally happened. Facebook Mobile has come to Canada. Not only must I be tormented by the constant urge to sign in and see just how (un)popular I am, but now I can have my phone announce exactly when there's the tiniest bit of activity in my little Facebook microcosm. And reply, from my cell. Because I'm just that important, that I need the ability to update my Facebook status while I'm eating lunch, lost in the woods, sleeping, and so on.

There are possibilities here though - Facebook contest for status update from the weirdest place? Hmm...That has promise.

Interesting fact for the day

It is physically impossible to lick your own elbow.

Well - apparently not, because a friend of a friend can apparently do it, but whatever.

That - however, is not the interesting part. The interesting part is that if you happen to casually mention this fact, whoever you are talking to will automatically attempt to prove you wrong. Even if you are in a crowded restaurant, bar, or whatnot.

Try to keep from laughing too soon, it just gets better the longer you let your friends (or boss!) twist themselves around with their tongues hanging out of their mouths - enjoy!

I'm not even a cat person

But I thought this was really cute. My sister sent it to me.




From this blog

What gets red wine stains out?

My apartment is drenched in red wine. It's everywhere. There have been quite a few incidents involving drunken people dropping things. Surprisingly - not any of them have even been me. (I think, at least, there's one that I can't remember happening, but I'm going to assume that one was someone else. My new Neil Gaimen hardcover book - and I usually never even buy hard covers, because theoy cost way to much - is now dyed red.

Shhh...don't tell my landlord. Although, I don't feel as bad about that as I should. But my oven hasn't worked in a year, so I think we're even.

I want to be a pirate when I grow up

Jebus fucking hell – how did I just find out about this?!?!

I’m, perhaps, it has been suggested by others...just a tad obsessed with pirates. Just a touch. Ok, so it’s true that I can no longer manage to dress without having at least one item of clothing that has a skull and crossbones on it. Maybe I get a little more excited about International Talk Like a Pirate Day than I do about Christmas (September 19th! Just 125 days away!). At least I don’t wear an eye patch, so just chill the fuck out everyone.

So – how is it possible, with my overwhelming ‘piratetude’, that I was unaware that there’s going to be a pirate themed reality show?!?!

Pirate Master – premieres May 31st, at 8/7c. Of course, I’m not going to be on said reality show – because I just found out about it now. I am DESTINED to be on reality television. And THIS should have been the one!

But alas – it is not to be. I’m sure that my beloved Canadian citizenship would have also eliminated me from potential participation on said reality series full of piratey goodness, but still – I cannot believe that I’m just finding out about this now.

If this tv show sucks – I’m gonna be seriously pissed. There may have to be some pillaging involved.

My hero, Bruce Campbell

He kills zombies, he's Elvis, he made Xena watchable, he has a boomstick, and apparently, he can do all this and smell nice at the same time.



Oh, Bruce. Is there anything you can't do?

Gimme some sugar baby.

What I wouldn't give for some decent cheese curd right now

Ick...rain. Nasty, spitty, cold rain - the kind that stings.

And, of course, everyone in the City of Toronto forgets how to drive the second the first speck of rain hits the ground. Not that they were particularly stellar in this department before. (Of course, this observation coming from an as of yet not fully licensed drive herself - but still...) And don't even get me started on Toronto drivers come wintertime...

As a former Montréaler myself, I tend to get a serious hate-on for my adopted home of Toronto if I go to long without a little sojourn back home.

Lets do a little comparison.

Toronto: Hey look, a huge slab of rock fell off of the tallest office building in the city. Lets close one of the busiest streets in the downtown core for the next week. (This latest coming after this winter's 'hey look, ice is falling off of buildings. In the winter. Ohhh...shocker. Lets close the main highway into downtown Toronto for 3 days.')

((OK...Yes, ice falling off of the CN Tower is, perhaps, fairly alarming, but calm down people. The Gardner is pretty far away from the Tower.))

(((why am I so bracket-happy today?)))

Montréal: Hey look, concrete is falling off of the roof of the Big O (aka. former home of the Expos. Also aka. (for those who have already let my dear Expos fade from their memories) big stadium.) Cool. Let's get another beer.

Toronto: Well, it's just about mid-July now, I guess it's warm enough to put away my $400 North Face down jacket. Careful, though. It's almost August. Don't let it get too far away.

Montréal: I wear running shoes all winter.

Toronto: You'd like poutine, you say? Lovely choice, tonight we have a lovely variation fashioned from the rare Tibetan purple potato with a beef-cheek gravy and soy cheese reduction. The potatoes were peeled by vestal virgins. Only $120 per portion!

Montréal: You fuck with my poutine, I drown you in the St. Lawrence River.

(And with just cause.)

Toronto: Well, just because we haven't won the Cup since 1967 doesn't mean this isn't the year. Oh, wait, yes it does...

Montréal: Umm...I think 1993 is a little more recent than 1967...yes?

(And learn how to spell Toronto! L-E-A-V-E-S, say it with me people.)

Yes, there's stuff about Montréal that sucks too. Not as much as the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) though. Who builds a subway that runs outside in Canada? Ummm...I think it snows here in the winter. Subway+snow and ice = bad.

This all stems from the hour and forty-five minutes that it took me to travel the maybe two clicks (click=kilometre, for any American readers out there. Kilometre=oh, nevermind, go look it up) from work back home today. Not only was I foiled by the closure of King Street due to the aforementioned falling rock incident, but there was also a traffic accident caused by the incredibly inept 'driving' of Torontonians. Then my streetcar decided to short turn, so I got to go stand in the rain and wait for another one...ARGH

What did I do in a past life that was so evil that I've come to deserve an apparent lifetime dependence on public transportation?

I want poutine :(

And Spruce Beer. And smoked meat. And bagels. Oh, sigh, Montréal bagels...yummy. And to be hit on by a dirty middle aged drunken francophone. Oh, wait - I don't miss that part.

Who am I kidding, yes I do.

So THIS is what 7:30 in the morning looks like

OK - something's wrong. It's 7:33 in the morning, and I'm awake. Not only awake, but coherent as well (look, I'm blogging!). I could almost be tempted to do dishes.

This is not normal.

I've started taking that melatonin stuff. It's probably some crazy psychosomatic thing, but it actually seems to be working. Look at me - awake more that 10 minutes before I have to leave for work, just like a normal human being. I think I'm actually going to book that driving test that I've been avoiding for months.

Interesting. However, if this stuff is actually working, then it's got to have some horrible side effect. I'll probably have gills by tomorrow.

But hey, if I do, at least maybe I'll actually have the energy to go swimming!

Boys in dresses are hot

I think that everyone should be exposed to the fabulousness of Eddie Izzard. Not only is he the star of the very excellent show The Riches, but he’s also a fantastically hysterical stand up.

Also, he’s sexy as hell. Granted, I have a touch of a transvestite fetish. (Of course, I’m pretty sure that all started with Tim Curry’s fantastic portrayal of the lovely transgalactic Transalvanian transvestite in the cinematic masterpiece Rocky Horror Picture Show). Mix that in with the British accent, and I’m just done. DONE, I say.

Anyway, why should I go on and on, when I could just give you this to watch instead:

poke

Everyone keeps poking me!!!

Granted, I bring it on myself. Someone started a global poke war against on of my friends, and I seized upon it with a vengeance. Poking people is fun.

But now, it's just getting ridiculous. Random guys that I made out with once at a wedding, that girl that I was tight with for about 2 weeks back in grade 6, people I'm not even sure I've ever met...

Fuck you Facebook! I'm covered in virtual bruises from all of this digital poking. I feel like the pixels are getting poked right off of me.

But I just can't help myself - I need to keep poking back. I WILL outpoke everyone!

I just have one thing to say about all of this:


Pokepokepoke
Poke…………….poke
Poke………………poke
Poke……………….poke
Poke………………poke
Poke……………..poke
Poke poke poke
Poke
Poke
Poke
Poke

……….Pokepoke
….Poke…………Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
Poke……………….Poke
….Poke………….Poke
……….Pokepoke

Poke……………..Poke
Poke…………..Poke
Poke………. Poke
Poke…….Poke
Poke…Poke
Pokepoke
Poke…Poke
Poke……Poke
Poke………Poke
Poke………….Poke
Poke……………..Poke

Pokepokepokepokepoke
Pokepokepokepokepoke
Poke
Poke
Pokepokepoke
Pokepokepoke
Poke
Poke
Pokepokepokepokepoke
Pokepokepokepokepoke

Umm..Paper. No, wait. Rock!

Yes kids, I think I've found it...my destiny.

I will be the World Rock Paper Scissors Champion!

It's fate. The World Championships are in Toronto, my very own hometown. It's meant to be.

I was actually a moderately serious athlete back in the day. I coulda been a contender, all that business. That sport, wrestling, required quite a bit of physical exertion - not really my style. Then we have the next echelon, bowling, darts, pool and whatnot. All 'sports' that you can participate in while drinking. Which works for me. Unfortunately, these things all require some degree of aim, physical dexterity, concentration and/or practice. So while I may enjoy them, I really suck at them. (except for bumper bowling, but even I admit that's way too pussy to be seen participating in). Now this Rock Paper Scissors thing - that I think I can handle.

Maybe once I conquer the Rock Paper Scissors (shit, why is scissors so hard to spell? Stupid silent c.) world, I'll start the World Call-it-Heads-or-Tails Championship.

Forwarding - like Spandex, a right, not a privilege

Ok, seriously – who taught Grandpa how to forward? Really…

It’s cute and all how he prints out the schedule of the hockey games on TV and whatnot for the other denizens of the nursing home. He dug up some cool pics of me from when I was a kid, managed to scan them and email them to me (and hells no, I’m not posting them), awesome.

But – whoever taught him what the forward button does must be punished.

Mostly, I get stuff that’s just lame, which is fine. Mildly aggravating, but whatever. Pictures of puppy dogs or stupid poems and shit like that.

At one point, during the proliferation of all those birthday alarm & photosharing/networking dealies, I decided that it would be a good idea to sign up for one (and then of course proceeded to never again touch the stupid thing). And you know, after the sign up thing, there’s the inevitable ‘Invite your friends!’ plea. So, I think, hey, why not invite Grandpa. It’ll make him feel special, right? Apparently not, because what I get instead is a scolding email, from my 84 year old grandfather patiently explaining that he chooses not to register for such things because they will proceed to sell his email address which will then result in him getting spam. OK – fine, fuck you grandpa, I’m just trying to stay connected…but whatever.

I’m getting tips on cyber-safety from an 84 year old. I am a 21^st century digital girl. This does not make me happy.

But then – I get this great forward from Gramps, extolling the dangers of forwarding.

Did we all catch the irony there? You just FORWARDED me and email warning me not to FORWARD things!!!

The email, which was completely ridiculous, (big bold red text, ‘This is from an RCMP officer!’. Well shit, it’s red text, it must be true, right?), was going on about how when you sign a petition your email address will get eaten be spammers, etc. (marginally true, but they have much better & more effective ways to get your info than by pretending to care about saving spotted owls).

Of course, this prompted me to shoot off a quick, sarcastic note pointing this out to my Grandfather.

I just punked off Grandpa. By email. I’m sooo going to hell.

Look who's evil now!

Yea for Evil Dead the Musical! Or, woop woop, as we say in the Evil Dead Facebook Group.

Everyone should come to Toronto to see this theatrical masterpiece. Especially all you Americans who let it close after like 2 week in New York. Y'alls don't know what's good for you. What, everyone had to see Cats or fucking Phantom for the 37th time?

The talking moose is my favorite. :)

I'm still doing the Necronomicon!

mmm...turkey

I'm for some reason thinking that deep-frying a turkey for our annual Canada Day camping trip would be a pleasant and interesting diversion...yeah...this is bad.

But damn...deep fried turkey.

Yeah...this thought is gonna end up with me setting myself on fire.

Ha ha, Google, very funny

I just looked at my Google ads, at the bottom of the page. The 'relevant ads' that the Google Gods have deemed pertinent to my humble little blog are all about Procrastination!

Oh, Google, how do you know me so well!

Let there be lips!

Yea! I got to wear my fishnets and my boa!

Canstage is doing a production of Rocky Horror this season. Woooooooo! I just saw it for the 2^nd time. Ten times better the 2^nd time around. The first time I went, it was opening night, which is awesome and all, but not so much with the rest of the people there. Since it was subscriber night, there were far more little old ladies than one should ever see in the same room as half-clad transvestite aliens. This sweet little grandma-looking lady sitting right in front of us walked out ten minutes into the show. Not that I have any sympathy for that. Seriously, think about where you’re going for a second: if it involves half naked sluts, leave grandma at home. But whatever.

This time though, excellent crowd. It was an eleven pm show, and the crowd was totally into it.

Where else do you get to scream ‘Slut’ at the top of your lungs during a live musical?

Well, I'm an idiot

In an ironic twist of fate, I bought a parka today.

You'll notice some disparaging comments towards the purchasing parkas in the spring 2 posts down.

I couldn't help it. It was a sample sale.

The TV Gods hate me

Why, oh why, am I compelled to watch America's Next Top Model. I really couldn't care less. Yet, I continue to watch.

Oh cruel fate, why must you do this to me?

Oh, my aching ears

I had to drop by school after work for some more groupwork stupidness. This brings me right next to the mall. Since this godforsaken sub-artic wasteland of a city is finally starting to thaw out, I decided to drop by and get some slutty clothes so that I can hang my ass out a bit for the boys.

I stopped by Hollister, although who knows why. I don’t particularly like their clothes, nor do I ever see myself paying seventy bucks for a pair of sweatpants, but the outside of the store is cool. Lesson learned people: point of purchase optimization does work. The ditzy ‘my job is to stand by the door’ chick kindly reminded me to check out their shorts while I was there. What did you think I was doing there, bitch, looking for a new parka? You keep trying though, dear, maybe one day you’ll get promoted to the ditz who folds things.

What really got me though, was the song playing on the radio. It was a lameass pseudo-punk/emo/whatever-the-fuck-they-call-it-this-week, whiny bitch cover of Hey Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms. Now, I’ll admit, I did enjoy the Gin Blossoms for those two weeks that they were popular, back in the nineties. Did we really need a cover of this song? Or, more precisely, this cover of this song? It took me a few seconds to even realize that it was a cover. Further investigation reveals this little ditty to have been preformed by Hit The Lights – I have no clue who the fuck that is. Damn, I’m getting old.

I must admit, though, that I do have a huge weakness for punk covers. The point, though, should be to take something completely different, and punkify it. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes did a whole album of covers of showtunes! Now that’s entertaining. Reel Big Fish doing Take On Me. Not a punk cover, but Blues Traveler covering Gin and Juice is one of the most brilliant things that I’ve ever heard. I even have respect for that mess that Alanis Morrisette made of that dumbass Fergy tits song. At least she tried. It was a horrible, horrible trainwreck, but hey.

Another thing, I accidentally called my boss a little bitch today. Is that bad? He didn’t seem to mind, so hopefully I'll still have a job in the morning.

Jam my food, baby

There’s this show on the Food Network (the Canadian variant, at least.) called ‘Food Jammers’. It is very, very highly entertaining. These three guys must be the ultimate MacGuyver smokers. One of the Food Jammers, Nobu Adilman, even played a drug dealer on Trailer Park Boys (see?).

The basic premise of any given episode is this: they take something relatively simple to cook (e.g. pizza, tacos, etc.), and come up with some completely gratuitous, far-fetched, over-the-top, convoluted method of alternately preparing said foodstuffs. They built this gyroscope-thingy out of old bike wheel rims to cook a chicken over a campfire. In one episode they built a taco vending machine. Now, I’m as big a fan of making anything and everything accessible through handy, coin-operated slots as the next girl, but even I think this may be taking things just a smidge too far. Damn cool though.

All my respect goes out to these crafty young culinary engineers. Right now – I’m watching them make their own cheese!!! They’re going to build a mini cheese cave in their loft. I want a mini-cheese cave!

On second thought, maybe that's a bad idea - I'm having enough issues with mice as it is.

I have enough trouble summoning the will to drag my lazy ass to the freezer to throw some nasty frozen pseudo-dinner in to the microwave. But these guys almost inspire me to take some gastronomic initiative. I think I’ll eat a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy instead, though.

Getting a little crazy with the girls

OK – first things first… “FACEBOOK IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE” ?!?!? What the fuck is that? I haven’t been online in just about 36 hours now, and the withdrawal is starting to hit pretty hard. How DARE they! Bastards.

Anyway…just more time to talk to you lovely people, I suppose.

Oh…phew. Back into Facebook. Life is good now.

ARGH! Kicked out again. Such a tease. But I suppose I am too, so just karma I guess.

Anyway, I just got back from a lovely drunken weekend at the casino in Niagara Falls with the girls. I good time was had by all. At least, the parts we can all remember.

Not enough gambling time, unfortunately. These crazy people all just want to go to the club. What is up with that? So I got my quick 30 minute gambling fix, and ended up a whole $10 richer. Woo hoo. Randomly ran into my boss in the casino. One of my friends sneezed on him. I’m so going to hear about that tomorrow morning.

The fancy club at the casino had a ridiculous line up, and we apparently weren’t slutted up enough to bypass that ridiculousness, so we hit some ghetto spot downtown that was half dead, and had completely horrendous music. More my style anyways.

Nothing better than a drunken weekend with the girls.

Moral of the story: Jagerbombs are bad.

Just when you think you finally escaped

Wow…even more people from highschool. As if Facebook isn’t bad enough for that shit. So I’m at this party. I see these two girls. I have a second of, “hey, they look kinda familiar’. This passes into, ‘well, I’m already half in the bag, of course they do’. The subject of said party mentions to me later that he knows I wrestled back in the day.

Well, yeah, how’d you know that?
Those girls told me.
Who the fuck are they?
They used to wrestle with you.

Well, no shit?!?

And indeed they did. And they recognize me, from that life many many moons ago. Fucking weird.

Another random thing…there were children crawling all around the bar. Who the fuck has their child’s birthday party at a bar? I mean really, should god forbid I ever spawn, I don’t even think that would ever occur to me. What is the world coming to?

So hell. Raise a glass, chug it down, and say cheers to yet another step towards the complete collapse of society as we know it.

So...

Well, it's almost the end of my official first day as a blogger.

Shouldn't I be rich or something by now?

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Well, fuck it. Everyone and the grandmother is a blogger nowadays. So what the hell. Here I am. Please, feel free to ignore the meaningless drivel I will now proceed to spew into the vast realms of Internet wasteland, probably never again to be seen by anyone but me.

At least it should give me something other to do at work all day other than fuck around on Facebook.

Isn’t that just incredibly exciting? Well, buckle up folks. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.