tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55990585985645540132024-02-19T19:59:47.304-05:00The Hours and TimesLisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.comBlogger204125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-58165785246887326852009-09-09T20:31:00.002-04:002009-09-09T20:54:14.311-04:00Models for JesusSome of my student loan money materialized in my bank account this morning, and to celebrate, I paid my tuition!<br /><br />Just kidding. Really, I went to Chapters between classes and got some Terry Pratchett's that were missing from my bookshelves. You can never have too much T.P. That pesky tuition will get paid later.<br /><br />ANTM - I'm keeping an eye on Amber, super Christian girl, who cries and sings about Jesus at the drop of an imaginary hat. MODELS FOR JESUS! They help people...in poorly defined ways.<br /><br />First french class today, and the obligatory "introduce yourselves in french" exercise. And the teacher did everything in french, which - after a summer off, and one measly french class under my belt, I am proud to say I understood the gist of it. Mostly. I'll tell you this, though. Working in a bilingual work place half the summer didn't help one bit. She never said anything about mayonaise.<br /><br />Greek and Latin are fun, I like languages so much better when I'm not expected to speak them. And the course on Native Peoples of North America is going to keep me nicely enraged every Tuesday and Thursday. Seriously, if I had a time machine, I'd spend the rest of my life going back in time to kick pompous old white men in the nuts. I've seen the Butterfly Effect, I know you've got to be careful about changing the past - you end up with no arms, and Amy Smart is a drug addict/prostitute. No one wants that. But a little nut pain - I think I can inflict that without drastically changing the course of history.<br /><br />Oh, apparently Amber and the Models for Jesus are going to save the world. Look out, 2012. She's gunning for you.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-24124821338814227422009-09-08T23:54:00.002-04:002009-09-09T00:08:09.097-04:00Snakes on a planeMotherfuckin roaches in my motherfuckin bathroom, yo.<br /><br />I'm not kidding, this roach last night was at least 3 inches long...ok, maybe only one inch long, but every time I think about it, he gets bigger. It had been a quiet three or four weeks at chez nous. Thank god, because Gord's mom was here and I know she has some roach trauma in her past, and I didn't want her to have PTS while she was visiting. Thanks roach-bitches, for that little detente. Much appreciated.<br /><br />But they lulled us into thinking we'd won, and the very next day after Chris and Murray left, we saw one...then another...one more...finally culminating in the 3 foot long, giant ass roach that was crawling down the bathroom door last night when I was going to pee before bed.<br /><br />And my man, with me squeeling and flailing ineffectually, my man kept his head, took control of the situation and with one hand killed that 8 foot tall motherfucking roach. I am so proud. I may one day breed with that man. Just so his mad roach killing skills get passed on.<br /><br />But now, I can only step inside our bathroom if I fling the door open, scan the room for visible roaches before entering, then look behind or under everything in there. And even then, I'm still too freaked out to perform. Thank god school has started again. I need somewhere to pee.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-28277492995324571742009-08-30T21:13:00.002-04:002009-08-30T21:50:33.035-04:00What he said<div style="text-align: center;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Afterword<br />by Timothy Findley<br /><br />Maybe it would be best not to read this until <span style="font-style: italic;">The Diviners</span> has had a chance to sigh and to settle; until you, yourself, have had a chance to sigh and settle.<br /><br />My friend and I have a rule when we go to plays and movies: neither of us is allowed to talk when the play or movie is over if we perceive the other has been upset or moved by what we've just seen. Surely there's nothing worse than somebody breaking in on your own reflections with: "Wow! What a piece of garbage!" Or even with: "Wasn't that terrific!" It doesn't really matter whether the voice breaking in agrees with you or disagrees. The point is, the only voice that matters when an experience is over is the voice of the experience itself.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A psychologist once remarked that what we experience in dreams can be just as affecting - whether for ill or for good - as what we experience in what we call "reality". Books can hit us hard - or leave us cold. We can set the book aside and say: "I forget." Or we can close the covers and know we will always remember what is between them. Books, like dreams, are essentially private realms. Nothing should be allowed to detract from each person's right to read a book privately and to interpret it freely in the light of what each person has experienced and knows of life. This is why what we receive from critics can be so dangerous. Not that critics are inevitably wrong; only that critics forget, too often, to remind us they speak only for themselves.<br /></div></div></blockquote> <br />That's what I was trying to get at<a href="http://hoursandtimes.blogspot.com/2008/11/just-like-dating.html"> here</a>, and managed to say so poorly. The fact that everything I have to say has already been said, been said more clearly and articulately....strangely liberating. And this right here is why I feel so sorry for those people who don't read, who deliberately chose not to dream, not to experience, not to seek out those rare moments when the words on a page reach out and give your soul the gentle fist bump of understanding. If more people would just pick up a good book - not "a book that lies: a book that clouds or obscures the truth with sentimental claptrap or mind-easing platitudes", maybe there would be less Dr Phil and Prozac, a little more sigh and settle.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-35148498712355861142009-08-10T22:31:00.002-04:002009-08-10T22:40:33.429-04:00SingularityThe winner of Julie & Julia is.....Trace! Woohoo! It's easy when you're the only one to enter. So, just email me at hourstimes@gmail.com or you can contact me through Etsy if you prefer, at HoursandTimes.Etsy.com, and I'll get that out to you asap. Enjoy the book, and prepare yourself for crazy food cravings while you read it. Maybe stock up on some cheese before you start.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-55923907455651272902009-08-06T18:27:00.003-04:002009-08-06T18:48:59.846-04:00Julie & Julia giveawaySo sometimes, just when you are whining and complaining about your stupid job cutting into your book buying time, you get lucky and win a book from <a href="http://picklesonpizza.blogspot.com/">Pickles on Pizza</a> (she's having another giveaway, go enter!), and it makes the whole day better. Especially since it was <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjvJHsJD8ic">Julie & Julia</a>, which I've wanted to read since I saw the movie trailer - because the book is always better than the movie, and the movie looks pretty good.<br /><br />The book arrived yesterday, and since I was working in the quiet, air conditioned peace of the bookstore, with hardly any customers, I read almost uninterrupted and I finished it this afternoon. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and desperately want to cook something - maybe those garlic mashed potatoes with garlic cream sauce. There is no such thing as too much garlic.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWbbbNg3SltcPR0T829GJFqP4w-EnUqlcRR89mtfRYAbcDC7mLy18jbppthJkhYEj4euC4XRm0afRYII8WA-PIDyqHBJ8P_BWuIj3FtkSrz3QxE9UBtuUa29e-PitFUD01Le1IAQwGpI/s1600-h/jj.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWbbbNg3SltcPR0T829GJFqP4w-EnUqlcRR89mtfRYAbcDC7mLy18jbppthJkhYEj4euC4XRm0afRYII8WA-PIDyqHBJ8P_BWuIj3FtkSrz3QxE9UBtuUa29e-PitFUD01Le1IAQwGpI/s400/jj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366986381908483346" border="0" /></a><br />Now comes the hard part, because this is absolutely a book I'll read again, but I'm bound by the laws of the blog book giveaway to pass it on. Leave a comment below and I'll draw a winner on Monday, and send it on to the next lucky blogger.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-13785804676961448932009-08-06T16:17:00.003-04:002009-08-06T16:33:10.142-04:00Crap-urdayLast Saturday I got called in to work, because a coworker had water in his lungs, a legitimate medical emergency, or because said douchebag wanted to spend the weekend at 'the cottage'. If you've got a cottage to go to, why are you wasting your time - more importantly my time - pretending you want to work at a minimum wage job that you can never be bothered to show up for?<br /><br />I wasn't supposed to be there, sweating in impossible heat, swatting flies off of food, and dealing with dickhead teenagers - I was supposed to be having a late brunch with Gord, going book shopping and sitting in the shade at Westmount park reading one of my new books all afternoon. Add to that the fact that it was the busiest day ever, non stop for 8 freaking hours, and I got nauseous from not eating all day, and I was pretty much Dante from Clerks, screaming "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" in my head for 10 hours.<br /><br />The only thing that could have redeemed that day is if my ex had accidentally had sex with a dead guy in the bathroom. In fact, pretending that he had got me through the evening.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-669081249468139272009-07-27T23:39:00.002-04:002009-07-28T00:07:11.305-04:00Yeah, yeahListen. I spend all day saying the exact same thing over and over and over again.<br /><br />"Thank you. Have a nice day" Monday thru Thursday<br /><br />"Merci. Bon journee" Friday thru Sunday<br /><br />I am both bored and boring. I can't wait for school to start so I can quit talking to people and sit mutely in an anonymous class and doodle my brains out. Loan money well spent. Stick figures coming along nicely.<br /><br />I will post pictures of the apartment just as soon as my cats die and I can remove the tinfoil from the couch. It's a hideous and effective way to keep them from mauling the furniture, and it means there's only about 8 years of this left. Until the next damn cat. The only room that is remotely decorated is the bathroom, because all it takes is a shower curtain and a bathmat. Everything else is done in 'abandoned unpacking effort chic'.<br /><br />The kitchen still has a pervasive funk about it that we have decided is maybe the stench of bad paint - is that possible? That or our roaches need a bath. We've washed the cupboards down with bleach three frigging times already, and it won't go away. So I'm going to try repainting them, and worst case scenario is that our kitchen will then smell like funk and fresh paint. Yummy! Who's eating out?<br /><br />We were thinking of going to the <a href="http://bethelwoodscenter.org/bwevents/eventdetail.aspx?id=64">Heroes of Woodstock</a> concert until we got some details - $70 tickets, $5 rented lawn chairs, no photography, kids arts and crafts, keep off the grass, oh yeah, and all the good acts are dead - so we're going camping that weekend instead. I'll make a Woodstock playlist and keep my ipod charged. Hopefully after 3 days of outside, no forced kindness to strangers and a lot of Janis Joplin, I'll feel more human and more like communicating with you all again.<br /><br />Until then, I'm afraid the best I can do is:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Thank you. Have a nice day!<br /></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-19048358975409017622009-07-13T20:07:00.005-04:002009-07-13T20:39:24.432-04:00beep beepSaturday I was lazy. I decided to drive to the metro and go to work from there. This was supposed to knock 40 minutes off my trip home, since I wouldn't have to wait for the bus. The best laid plans...<br /><br />It rained almost all day Saturday. I was soaked right through by the time I got to work, and worked the whole 10 hours in wet shoes. It was the most fun ever. Until I got off the metro, and the fun really started.<br /><br />I walked to my car and realized that the remote starter for my car had got wet and wasn't working. The beautiful thing about my car starter & alarm system is that you have to use the remote starter to open the car, or it sets off the batshit insane alarm for 10 minutes. Putting the key in the door doesn't shut it off, nor does putting the key in the ignition. You have to 'beep beep' the door unlock button, or you will not be moving the car. I know. Best system ever! I've encountered this before when the remote starter crapped out on me and it took 5 weeks to get a new one ordered because it's an old alarm system. At that time, the guy at Visions told me there was a magic 'kill switch' and I swear to god I tried that 15 times on Saturday night, and then, maybe got a bit aggressive and pissed off at standing in the rain with my car alarm blaring, and the kill switch cord got unplugged. I don't know how that happened. At that point, I said fuck it, caught the bus and went home.<br /><br />Sunday, thinking it may have dried out, Gord tried the key fob starter thingy and it played its little jingle bell song that implies it's working. So I went out before work to try to beep the car open. All lies. The little jingle is a ruse. It didn't work, and I ended up just setting the alarm off for no reason other than to piss off the neighborhood. Bus home, change clothes, bus to metro to work, etc.<br /><br />Today, I resolved to find a car fixing place that would uninstall that piece of shit alarm system that doesn't shut off and won't let me drive my car, and to make good use of my CAA membership. I found a place 3.4 KM from where the car was parked that would lobotomize my car. I called CAA for a tow. I explained the 'car not moving' issue, and asked for a tow. I took the bus to the car and waited for one hour. A roadside assistance truck with no towing capacity showed up and a very helpful man got out. I tried to explain the situation, but my french and his english were incompatible, and I couldn't seem to mime 'tow' with any success. That, or he decided I was a complete idiot and just hadn't thought to try using the key to open the door. He turned the key in the lock, and the alarm went off. More button pushing, more alarm. He took the battery out and shook it. When the stupid little jingle went off, he smiled triumphantly and tried the buttons again. Tried the key in the lock again, lather rinse repeat.<br /><br />5 alarms later, he tells me I need a tow.<br /><br />The fuck, you say. Gosh, if I'd a known that I'd have FUCKING CALLED FOR A TOW.<br /><br />90 minutes and a short burst of rain later, tow truck shows up, car alarm will be lobotomized tomorrow and I feel perfectly justified in getting that Quarter Pounder meal on the way home. I knew living this close to a MacDonalds would be helpful. And now, if you'll excuse me, I think a very long hot bubble bath is in order.<br /><br />Cockroach count = none today or yesterday, dead or alive. Silver roachy linings. And if they're just getting better at hiding, I'm fine with that.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-20682348991671004472009-07-10T14:59:00.005-04:002009-07-13T20:45:23.545-04:00The War on Bugs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxE6cn_N96pndbYmntHyoypHHetFiCwV7toeV3zEFNmHEFieadWSakfRadB41-MC1in3VN0NjrQvqRzZBCJ-lkD1-hx30q6pzUNxIyeqlEFPFxJjH883KlbztOK_vpkyxWBzjg5RwSmpM/s1600-h/waronbugs1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxE6cn_N96pndbYmntHyoypHHetFiCwV7toeV3zEFNmHEFieadWSakfRadB41-MC1in3VN0NjrQvqRzZBCJ-lkD1-hx30q6pzUNxIyeqlEFPFxJjH883KlbztOK_vpkyxWBzjg5RwSmpM/s400/waronbugs1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356911443954734098" border="0" /></a><br />The consensus seems to be that the roaches will win this war, which is disheartening. But thanks to PK, I can at least be grateful that these buggers don't fly, and aren't big enough to 'thud'.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuQhLNEf40goCy8Mhta9PjUZdZtYJB6iIBtvGyDrFJHRdxJTQwUZ7RvV8rAiDJiUhUJ6IfbDkJdwb2qzI9H98dhUisPgGjA9A32jRll3fyvViQXdlGTyE0nSP9vX8VUY_sDQRNjGo6XI/s1600-h/waronbugs2.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuQhLNEf40goCy8Mhta9PjUZdZtYJB6iIBtvGyDrFJHRdxJTQwUZ7RvV8rAiDJiUhUJ6IfbDkJdwb2qzI9H98dhUisPgGjA9A32jRll3fyvViQXdlGTyE0nSP9vX8VUY_sDQRNjGo6XI/s400/waronbugs2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356911538737794978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks Kel. The posters will help keep up morale in the trenches.</span></span><br /></div><br />Besides the bug problem, the apartment is...well, who cares. It could be the fucking Plaza, and I'd still only think about the bugs. The tasty but expensive news is that I really don't feel like cooking, lest some stray crumb tempt more damn bugs into the house, so we eat out a lot and there's a fabulous Greek place just down the road.<br /><br />It's my first day off in 9 days, so I slept in til noon, watched some tv in bed and caught up on all the entertainment news. Really uninspiring day, and I'm relishing it. For anyone thinking of working in the food service industry - just don't. Low pay, crap hours that get doubled on a moments notice, dealing with that most hideous of beasts 'the public' - now I know why Gordon Ramsay is so foul mouthed and short tempered. Thank god for the bookstore job and greek take out, or I would be the most miserable girl in town.<br /><br />Honorable mentions in the fight to save my sanity go to:<br /><br />The Fripe-Prix and it's $2 books. I discovered James Herriot last week, and spent many blissful hours on Yorkshire farms instead of in a roach infested Montreal apartment.<br /><br />The Wire - we're always late catching good tv, but that's ok, because we can download entire seasons and there are no inconvenient week or month long breaks between episodes.<br /><br />Glee - I can't wait for this show to start. It's the Dorito's of TV, cheesy delicious.<br /><br />Fat, purry cats snoozing in the sunlight.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-25841012766255474602009-07-09T16:02:00.003-04:002009-07-09T16:17:41.159-04:00Fuck karmaWondering where I've been the last 2 weeks? Our new place has roaches. I've been cleaning and killing, cleaning and killing, cleaning and killing, every day after work. The problem is I don't know where they're coming from. We really only see them in the kitchen, but every damn thing in there has been moved, cleaned, bleached, scrubbed, roach sprayed, bleached and cleaned again, Gord caulked all the cracks around the kitchen on the weekend, and there are still one or two of those damn things every night.<br /><br />Because of the cats, we're using pet friendly roach spray and chinese chalk and I'm about to go to the hardware store for some powder to put in corners and under appliances. I am losing my mind. I can hardly stand to eat in the apartment, even though we've put all our food in tupperware containers. Normally, Gord and I are pretty bug tolerant. Spiders and beetles are scooped up and set gently on the grass outside, moths are left to flutter themselves to death against lightbulbs, and none of these tiny creatures bother me. But there's something repulsive about roaches, and we have become ruthless killers. There's a sick sort of triumph when I spray one and watch it die. But killing them individually isn't fast enough. I need a roach genocide, and I need it now.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-38879652648359868812009-06-28T09:45:00.003-04:002009-06-28T09:50:45.080-04:00Stay classy, EdmontonTimes like this, I'm so very relieved I no longer call Alberta home. Are the cops in your town a little blue these days? No problem. <a href="http://www.edmontonsun.com/news/edmonton/2009/06/28/9960196-sun.html">Gather ye porn stars while ye may, and have them flash their tits at the officers. It's bound to raise their....spirits.</a><br /><br />Sheesh.<br /><br />And what with July 1st being moving day for most of Montreal, we're going to be sans internet until Saturday. This way, we will have no distractions when we should be organizing the new place. I'll see you next week with pictures of the new apartment!Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-18134022645024700212009-06-27T13:52:00.006-04:002009-06-27T14:21:33.970-04:00Anger, Canadian styleThere's a kind of tradition in Canada where political protesters arm themselves like clowns and <a href="http://www.edmontonjournal.com/Life/Political+thrower+guilty+regrets/1739340/story.html">throw pies at the reining jackass </a>mayor, premier or prime minister. And there's a tradition of police officers, politicians and courts getting all super fucking serious about it, and prosecuting these pie throwers to the fullest extent of some ridiculous sentiment that says a politician shouldn't have to suffer the pain and torment of momentary embarrassment.<br />Seriously? Remember the bullet proof glass surrounding Obama when he was inagurated? You think that was there for pies? A little bullet proof sneeze guard on the salad bar of political figures? Uh huh. And I love that the Alberta stance is that it doesn't matter how much it costs -<br /><p></p><blockquote><p>Robertson said Alberta Justice takes these types of cases seriously and the cost of prosecution, which is not calculated, is never a factor.</p></blockquote><p></p>God knows it's not like they could take that pie prosecuting money and spend it hiring nursing staff for hospitals, or throw it at any of the other problems in that backwards province. Nope. Best that money goes to making sure Dave Bronconnier, Ed Stelmach, <a href="http://www.wsws.org/articles/2001/dec2001/can-d22.shtml">Ralph Klein</a> and the devils other minions never again know the sweet fluffy kiss of a pie thrown in protest.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_xQki3MuMsNScQzXSp9_su5FW2RN20a9pa0xBpF-kBOsj0jqD5TddQ6t5ooBHxIK2xwob13uMLolzDD_ztorT9y-lElmhXyIt5Q3PkYPF5m9rpsR8mAUzpw1MFlagCji6vUixt0WPpM/s1600-h/klein_pie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_xQki3MuMsNScQzXSp9_su5FW2RN20a9pa0xBpF-kBOsj0jqD5TddQ6t5ooBHxIK2xwob13uMLolzDD_ztorT9y-lElmhXyIt5Q3PkYPF5m9rpsR8mAUzpw1MFlagCji6vUixt0WPpM/s400/klein_pie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352073224431832306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ralph Klein, Inglorious Bastard. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No permanent damage done. </span></span><br /></div><br /><br />And as for claiming that there's nothing funny about it - YES. Yes, there bloody well is something funny. 1 - seeing Stephen Harper with gobs of Boston Cream Pie falling off his doucheface..why, I think that would be the BEST DAY EVER. And 2 - how delightful! When a Canadian gets really, really mad, steaming mad, I'm not going to take it anymore mad, it's the definition of funny that our weapon of choice is a pie. Shouldn't they know this? Don't all politicians go to clown college?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-29963848382469256482009-06-25T14:43:00.005-04:002009-06-25T17:42:41.066-04:00To dance againBusy little bee lately, what with the packing and the cleaning that is too boring to talk about. I had a super fun time in the pit of despair this morning. Good old Wal-Mart and their post apocalyptic looking shelves. I've never been in a Wal-Mart that wasn't a complete mess, and it shouldn't surprise me that it took 3 trips around the store to find a fan. Had to do it, though. It was so hot last night that Gord and I took ice packs to bed. And I can't believe they're selling humidifiers in Montreal. Cause it's not humid enough here? By mid-afternoon, it's like breathing soup. Can't wait for that basement apartment. It's got to be cooler...<br /><br />Other than that, nothing new. Jobs are good, they pay the bills. Haven't cut myself again, found a <a href="http://eatwellmontreal.com/pho-lien-restaurant-review/">really good place for Vietnamese</a>, a kind of meh place for Korean, and the Flames have a new head coach who might actually make them work out their power play issues. Read my first Robertson Davies, Tempest-Tost, quite enjoyed it, although the ending seemed a bit abrupt after just reading David Copperfield. I love that Dickens winds up the story by telling what happened with every single character, nice and tidy like. And no matter how bad things are in the middle, there's always a happy ending. It's not true to life, but trust me, I'm not looking for a dose of reality when I reach for a book. I just want to be entertained, and forget for a minute that I work a crappy job which requires a uniform and a name tag, or that it's a billion degrees outside and everyone stinks of armpit, or that Perez Hilton is a giant whining douche who should just take his lumps and shut the hell up.<br /><br />Know what else helps you forget your troubles? Tap dancing Voldemort.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tWuttBA8fhg&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tWuttBA8fhg&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />If you're impatient, skip to the three minute mark and enjoy.<br />You can watch the entire musical on youtube, it's long but oh so funny. I love this Draco Malfoy.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-30623346232624661752009-06-20T00:18:00.002-04:002009-06-20T00:31:01.538-04:00AddictionI am an addict. That's how you start at one of these meetings, right? State your name and your shame? So I have an addiction. There are a lot of mornings I can barely drag myself out of bed when the alarm goes because I was feeding my addiction all night. When I'm red eyed and out of it at work, I mumble something about "not sleeping very well", but that's a lie. The only reason I'm not sleeping is because of this damn addiction.<br /><br />So here goes. All those times I don't call you back, or even come to the phone when you call, all those excuses for not going out with friends, all those bloodshot mornings..it's because I'm reading. Half the time it's not even a new book, so I don't have old 'have to know what happens' as an excuse for blowing you off, or showing up late. I'm addicted and would rather be home with a book than pretty much anywhere.<br /><br />Oh, I slay me. But I was thinking about this today, because one of my coworkers is a smoker, and god love him, I don't begrudge him a smoke break, but why the special consideration for that particular addiction, while my plight goes unnoticed? Do you know how much happier I'd be at work if I could take a 10 minute read break whenever I needed to chill? I might never come home bitching again. Ok, that's a stretch, but there'd be fewer 'quit fantasies', that's for damn skippy.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-43261122306924796652009-06-18T03:34:00.002-04:002009-06-18T03:45:51.907-04:00I am a computer genius.What I mean is, I successfully unscrewed one screw, removed my old video card, slid a new one in the slot and replaced the screw. The computer did not blow up, although it did beep to let me know I hadn't pushed the new video card in far enough the first time. Tough job, but I was equal to the task, and I am ridiculously proud of myself. I look at computers and cars as though they are likely to blow up in my face if I do anything out of the ordinary, so this was a big step for me. And I attempted it only because my brother still lives 3,000 miles away instead of down the street where he belongs.<br /><br />And I got a 2nd job today, didn't even apply for this one, at the university bookstore. It's 10 - 3, Monday to Thursday, and I'll be able to walk to work once we move. The only way life could get better is if those 25 hours a week were enough to pay the bills and save some for school. As it is, I'll most likely be working weekends at the finger cutting job, but it will pay off if we can fly home for Christmas. And if the stars align, maybe I can pick up an old film Hasselblad cheap...people are practically giving them away in favour of digital madness. Suck it Blogger, I'm spelling 'favour' the Canadian way.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-2991083922376819752009-06-17T00:54:00.004-04:002009-06-17T01:13:27.062-04:00Auspicious beginningFirst shift at actual place of work today - the last three weeks, I've been in 'super incompetence training'.<br /><br />First task = Fail. Cut my finger, bled on sandwich. Just a little, but blood is not an acceptable condiment. Sterilize, and try again.<br /><br />Mission details = I understood about 30% of what people said to me in french, which is also a fail, even in Delburne.<br /><br />First level completed with help of super nice coworker.<br /><br />Tomorrow's mission, should I choose to accept it, is to sleep in and enjoy my day off with Margaret Laurence, The Fire-Dwellers and an iced capp. Top off with So You Think You Can Dance, and it's back into the fray on Thursday with a new sense of where the edge of the blade is, and how not to touch it. As for language, I have decided that this is the Summer of Mime. I'm stuck in a box. And would you like a drink with that? How's your sandwich? Oh, it's windy here.<br /><br />G'night, and dog bless.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGxWIiUEseyu9W8-hT5YbJ4ZEPgEsAbY6JS40blh2KDBfceTZebylUr_Z7IudHhhJzNcQyNaKdPOzaASKsKpkFiR7pk1cg2aSm6QOiFSPJzUXif6zpnbvoS6Azgzk5dqX2Hk8qGo9g1w/s1600-h/cat+in+a+box.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggGxWIiUEseyu9W8-hT5YbJ4ZEPgEsAbY6JS40blh2KDBfceTZebylUr_Z7IudHhhJzNcQyNaKdPOzaASKsKpkFiR7pk1cg2aSm6QOiFSPJzUXif6zpnbvoS6Azgzk5dqX2Hk8qGo9g1w/s400/cat+in+a+box.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348159841831934178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This is not a mime.</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-8613857748123525212009-06-15T22:57:00.005-04:002009-06-15T23:08:32.152-04:00The subtext of every rap song ever<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qqXi8WmQ_WM&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qqXi8WmQ_WM&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />If you liked that one and haven't already seen it, check out Jon Lajoie's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PsnxDQvQpw&feature=channel">Everyday Normal Guy</a>. It's gotten 9 million hits on youtube, though, so chances are I'm the last to know.<br /><br />PS. Amanda -just in case, this is NSFW :)Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-36630117540088176172009-06-15T01:11:00.003-04:002009-06-15T01:31:58.805-04:00QuibblesWe're watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I actually like this show, but sometimes, it's just a bit much. Gord just explained the criteria to me: every family has a tragic death/debilitating illness, plus someone in the family has to do some selfless job, like fireman, or first grade teacher, noble work, but the pay is shit, and their house has to be a complete shit hole that is literally falling down. And I get that there's poverty and things beyond your control that you really can't take care of. But if your front door blows off in the wind, walk your ass down the road, pick it up and put it back on, fer christs sake. Cause there's no guarantee that Ty Pennington and his just hopped out of bed hair are going to roll down the road and build you a better house. Not having a front door is the equivalent of walking down the street with your zipper down. And if you can't afford the 4 or 6 screws it would take to put the door back on, "borrow" them from a neighbor. Oh, oh, right. You don't want to ask a favor of anyone. Nope. You'll just have your sad, no door house until someone famous shows up and convinces the whole damn town to build you a new house while you go on vacation. And then you'll come home and the contractor & his staff will have set your kids up with scholarships. But don't ask for a little help when you need it. I'm sure Ty will get to everyone eventually.<br /><br />And the other quibble - there's community spirit busting out all over when the tv camera's are rolling, and everyone wants to help this poor family that everyone loves (and probably knew nothing about until the tv crew rolled in and explained the situation)...but where's the help when there's no tv crew around? Sure, maybe we can't all get Sears to comp us furniture, can't rebuild a house in 5 days, but there's plenty could be done before things get to such dire straits. And we've all walked past houses in our neighborhoods that look every bit as bad as the ones on this damn show. But instead of thinking, "Wow, I bet the people who live there have a sick kid, and can't pay their hospital bills, and the mom or the dad is a hard working first grade teacher who just isn't paid enough, and I wonder if there's anything I can do to help out?" Nope. We walk by and think "Probably crack heads. Ruining the neighborhood. Those sons a bitches deserve a falling down house."<br /><br />And now I'll get off my high horse, because next time I walk past a condemnable house, I'm not ringing the bell and asking how I can help. Probably crack heads. And if not, well...we have health care and Mike Holmes in Canada.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-68611704800753389882009-06-12T19:23:00.003-04:002009-06-12T22:29:49.455-04:00I have a blog?Oh yeah.<br /><br />I think I've been interacting with so many people in the real world that when I come home, all I'm capable of is hiding in the bathtub with a book. Blessed silence. Only, I've gone and done a very stupid thing. I packed all my books in a fit of 'shit, we're moving in two weeks-edness' and now I have nothing to do but play Sims 3. (or clean the house...but you know what? Gord does that. He's a good little monkey, he is.)<br /><br />My brother sent me a link to a blog, and what I thought was going to be funny (like the time my Unabomber Sim died of bathroom desperation) turned out to be kind of melancholy and eye opening as to the hardships of Simlife. And real life, I guess. You can check out <a href="http://aliceandkev.wordpress.com/">the story of being homeless in Sims 3 here</a><a href="http://aliceandkev.wordpress.com/">.</a>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-37120402091149377302009-06-06T11:10:00.003-04:002009-06-06T11:19:23.948-04:00Open Letter to Joss WhedonHey Joss,<br /><br />I just watched the last 2 episodes of Dollhouse last night, and they were awesome. Really great work you guys are doing on that show, and I'm so glad you got a second season. Bringing Wash in - awesome. Helo - still the coolest guy in the universe. Even notXander is shaping up to be quite interesting. All in all, I've only got one complaint.<br /><br />The eye gouging. WTF, Joss, WTF? And why are the guys from Firefly always the eye gougers? First Mal turns Xander into a pirate, then Wash starts doing it... Seriously, is the whole crew of the Firefly coming back as evil eye gougers in your shows? Whose next? Zoe? River? Shepard!? Not Kaylee, please not Kaylee.<br /><br />So here's to a great second season, where everyone comes through with eyes intact. That's not too much to ask, is it?<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Semi-rabid fan<br /><br />PS. I think the Buffy movie remake is probably going to suck it, don't you?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-28793030372105733542009-06-01T16:51:00.003-04:002009-08-06T18:55:59.202-04:00Pants of lardThe french word for homebody is 'pantouflard', and I can always remember the pronunciation and meaning because it sounds like 'pants of lard', which is what I've had the last few weeks. It's been rainy and chilly, and I've wasted a lot of time playing the Sims, which has added zero value to my life and yet, I can't stop.<br /><br />I'm still 'training', so I go to 'work' for 3.5 hours a day, which is just enough to mess up the day and leave me cranky. I had to restrain myself a few times from explaining to my coworkers that I am only bilingually challenged, not mentally challenged. It must be a good job, though, because most of my coworkers have been there for over a year, and the managers have 12 years between them. I think that's unusual for fast food.<br /><br />Other news....nada. My Sims are doing well, I haven't killed them off yet. I haven't taken a hammer to the Wii Fit yet. I haven't finished my mom's birthday present yet. I haven't started packing yet. I haven't done laundry yet. I'm going to go get started on some of that.<br /><br />Ps. Dr Phil says don't text and drive.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-87173408566530568922009-05-25T15:15:00.002-04:002009-05-25T15:44:52.749-04:00Je ne suis pas mort.Ok, I cheated and had to look up how to say that. 2 weeks in Calgary and all my french disappeared. I had my first training shift today, and it went ok except when some unsuspecting francophone walked in and was greeted by my confused and helpless smile. Other than that, it went well. Nothing too hard, don't cut yourself, wash your hands, smile, smile, smile. Ah, the food industry.<br /><br />Trip home was good, too. We were kept busy just trying to catch up with people and spend a little time with everyone. I have pictures, and I've started scanning - remember I still haven't gone digital yet - and I'll post them on Flickr eventually. It was strange, and we both kind of felt like we'd never left. After 3 hours of driving in the black hole that is Westhills, I had all my old road rage back. Highway 2 never changes much, but I'm pleased to tell you they've taken down the Russian Brides billboard, so that's progress. Other, less pleasant progress - we were approached by a very jittery woman in the London Drugs parking lot by our old house, she was trying to sell her cell phone - presumably so she could buy some more crack. That's right. The epidemic has spread, it's no longer contained in the downtown area. Sad days, Calgary.<br /><br />We were unable to get our favorite sushi, so it will be another year before we get any rainbow rolls. Damn you, Renzo. Damn you and your vacation. No Tubby Dogs either, so I'm seriously considering getting some squeeze cheese and making my own A-Bomb. Successfully avoided my old office, spent a great 3 hours at my old Indigo store, and played a lot of tile rummy. It was sunny when we landed, rained off and on the whole 2 weeks, and snowed our last day. Hence the tired old saying "if you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes." It's trite and it's true.<br /><br />We also played a lot of Wii Fit on our visit and got addicted. So when we got home, we picked on up. Shut up, we're both employed now. I've never spent so much time flipping off the tv. I hate that little wii board. When I made a Mii at my brothers house, my Wii fit age was 43. Holy shit. I am happy to say that I passed all 5 balance rounds in the body test on our machine, so my Wii age is now one year younger than my actual age. So death by tripping is not imminent, and one of these days, I will successfully avoid all the cleats and panda heads.<br /><br />Gord and I got home last Monday and both had the week off - we just started working today. I had a piddly little 4 hour training shift, and Gord is somewhere in our neighborhood painting a house, I think. Maybe he's stuck up a ladder, scrapping old paint. We had big plans for last week, we were going to go enjoy the sunshine and being back in Montreal, but really all we did was sleep. And sleep. And catch up on Breaking Bad. I reread the old Dragonlance series, which is kind of awful, kind of awesome. I even watched the straight to DVD movie version, and it was also awful/awesome = awfome. On Kelly's recommendation, I'm reading the Death Gate cycle, which he claims is better than Dragonlance. Maybe it's just the fond memories I have of Dragonlance from when I was 12 and read them for the first time, and got completely hooked on fantasy and read very little else for the next 10 years....but one book down, and the Death Gate cycle isn't really growing on me. I have 6 more books to go, though, so I'm sure some literary barnacles will form somewhere.<br /><br />And that's it. I'm sure more interesting stuff happened in there somewhere, but I need a nap.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-16437778584346026642009-05-03T01:08:00.003-04:002009-05-03T01:27:57.886-04:00Vacation modeWe've been doing liver exercises this week, in the form of beer, vodka and the last of the birthday rum in preparation for our visit home. Not that everyone in Calgary drinks all the time or anything. Just being prepared.<br /><br />We have achieved bachelor fridge, in that there's only a single lonely onion and a bunch of condiments in there. And enough milk for morning coffees - no one can expect us to make it to the airport at 7AM coffee free.<br /><br />I've set the Etsy & Artfire shops to vacation mode, and the cats to sleep mode.<br /><br />looking forward to airline peanuts and in-flight movies starring Kevin Bacon, or maybe Michael Keaton....OOoooh i hope it's Multiplicity.<br /><br />And with that, it'll most likely be 2 weeks before you hear from me again, because where we're going - we don't need blogs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinVcVa1Eta5TRfQimwqhog_4_WJclxIx9D68WXKaJejBo4Rj3GQ8ut44LAy4IULcnRbKATEddN2Rx0HIai_sMKxTlThtye4syTVivv5m4Z_Jtcmn54wEKGkydPrkCdJq2DY60XxFDEtY/s1600-h/back_to_the_future.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinVcVa1Eta5TRfQimwqhog_4_WJclxIx9D68WXKaJejBo4Rj3GQ8ut44LAy4IULcnRbKATEddN2Rx0HIai_sMKxTlThtye4syTVivv5m4Z_Jtcmn54wEKGkydPrkCdJq2DY60XxFDEtY/s400/back_to_the_future.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331465068490061874" border="0" /></a>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-79493288961832218632009-05-01T00:29:00.002-04:002009-05-01T00:33:03.625-04:00First of MayI don't know if it's warm enough where you are, but you can always keep your socks on.<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gRhPeJ3uzOc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gRhPeJ3uzOc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5599058598564554013.post-58036244726102373302009-04-30T13:35:00.001-04:002009-04-30T13:41:34.001-04:00Finally, the whining comes to an end<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I have a job!!<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />And since it's bad juju to blog about work, that's about all I can say about that. It's not painting, so no climbing a 3 story ladder and scrapping old paint off for me. Can't say I'm super bummed about that, but it may have been nice to spend the summer outside for once. Hence the archaeology degree, yes? Once I get that, I have a feeling I'll be working outside all I want.<br /><br />And now, lunch. Gord is making bacon superfries, and after that, we're going to have a little cardiac arrest. Yum!<br /></span></div></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02103526913344136601noreply@blogger.com2