how cold is it?

it's easily -4000000 degrees outside at the moment. that, or approaching 0 Kelvin (hahaha wink wink nudge nudge to all you science nerds out there). currently i can't see out my window due to what i can only assume is (a)yet another snowstorm, or (b)radioactive death fog that will mutate all who breathe it in. one of those.
so, i am at 45000 words now, feeling pretty damn comfortable with that. and tonight heading out to see part deux of the lamest theatre community controversy ever. i had to correspond with the big B last night, and i innocently asked if i would see him there. who knows who will show up? maybe no one will show up. maybe everyone will show up to sneer. in any case, some kind of shit better go down. or else i should get picked to move on to the next round. because it's waaaaaaaay too cold to venture out without some kind of payoff, be it gossip or glory.
so i have a job interview tomorrow. which is somewhat laughable. do i want to work at the mall? as in, be an administrator who works at the mall? the engineering secretary or whatever it is? one of those behind-the-scenes people who bring the mall to you? one of those things i applied for on the spur of the moment, yet do not want. yet, my eagerness to impress perfect strangers makes it difficult for me to throw an interview.
also, i joined a book club. eep. will this be a fiasco a la columbia house tape club? (curse you, soup dragons cassette i did not order!) i couldn't resist. it was free cookbooks. and then they send you a catalogue of more cookbook. and then you just have to avoid having them send you their monthly selection. so easy! so yummy! i have baking books coming!
mmmm french toast is almost ready.
ETA: i almost forgot the thing that is bugging me the most. my mouse has now officially crapped out. well, perhaps unofficially, because it still does a half-assed job if you repeatedly slam it down on the pad and yell at it. but you have to watch the swearing, because that seems to cause the bottom to fall out, and the little ball inside to roll away. i can't say i ever realized that a mouse is supposed to come apart like that. nor did i realize that some will spend upwards of $150 on a new mouse. not me. i'm looking in the $14-25 range. nothing but the best for my computer.

so this is my writing warmup

strange how the closer i get to my goal, the less motivated i feel... oh, i'm sure an analyst would have a field day with that one. anyway, this is my writing warmup as i attempt to close the gap between me and 42K words tonight. I'm already at 41K, so i'm not anticipating too many problems. plus i've applied to the fringe, sent in my pitch to wwt, and have a lame job interview on monday. i've paid my bills, i got my roots touched up. i treated myself to a massage. i bought some new jeans. i feel so... productive. i've even been to the gym this week. so things are really on track. except that it's minus 1 billion degrees here, things are going swimmingly.
there's no way that my "novel" will be actually finished when i hit 50,000 words. it's one of those things that is randomly smashed together and has no real end. so i suppose it will be finished when i type "the end".
now all i have to do is some christmas shopping. (speaking of ambivalence...)
okay, off to hit 42K. sorry the blog just isn't very interesting as of late. i promise more excitement when the new year begins.
maybe.

i liked it better when i looked like hugh laurie...

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i'm feeling like a bit of a lazy bum...

not that i'm sitting around watching tv all day. although i do like my stories, can't forget to watch days of our lives every day. or every other day. or even every six months, trust me, you'll still be able to follow the story. (if there are any old-school days people reading, you should tune in... as many of the original actors are back once more, they've been running flashback scenes from the early 80's, which is truly hilarious. also, perhaps you can explain why steve remembered that deaf kid he took care of, but fails to remember kayla. does anyone remember that deaf kid? the kid that forced the actors to learn sign language, and so after that, many, many characters on days were temporarily deaf? oh, i could go on.)
anyway, today i am at 27K words on my novel, hoping to get to 30 by tomorrow. and i'm probably going to start on a pair of (hopefully) kick-ass yoga pants made out of a t-shirt i bought at the value village 50% off sale. (madness, do not go, as you will be shoved by many angry ladies who bear a passing resemblance to the michelin man).
i do feel lazy, however, as i have not gone to the gym in some time. the past couple of days i can pass it off on my stupid knee, which currently resembles a large red bocce ball in the middle of my leg. but, it's not like i'm bedridden. well, perhaps mentally.
but today is DAY FOUR of nonsmoking. i have to say that i am not constantly thinking about how much i would love to have a ciggie anymore. although, i do find myself reaching for them without thinking about it. if memory serves me correctly, this is about when the guilty smoking dreams should start.
that is about all that's new. doing lots of things, but accomplishing relatively little.

who's down with OPP?

and by OPP, of course i mean the Oriental Party Pack of frozen hors d'oeuvres, available at your local Safeway. not only is the OPP a cornucopia of asian Oriental delicacies, the ease of preparation will surely leave you in a lip-smacking, salt-induced grease coma for days to come. and when you wake up, you'll be sure to have a friend in gut rot.
of course, this is all a part of my grand tradition of making a meal out of canapes, going all the way back to the bacon-wrapped cheese sausages that will surely make my arteries the talk of the cardiology unit.
as you can see, i haven't updated in a while. i suppose i've stopped procrastinating and have been hard at work on what some would loosely define as a novel for Nano. and today i am proud to announce that i'm up to the 20,000+ mark! astounding!
the other news of the day is that we just purchased Spongebob Monopoly, as there were no Simpsons games available at crappy Bonnie Doon any of the fine stores we visited. we think this will stave off nicotine-deprived violence while we attempt to quit smoking forever... this particular project begins tomorrow. negotiations are still underway to determine whether or not the "last" cigarette is to be consumed at midnight tonight or first thing tomorrow.
we had started to play a game tonight, but it's just been ruined by a giant cat invading the town and destroying my slowly growing empire.
oh, the humanity.

don't you hate it when...

you go to a halloween party where you don't really know anyone, and even if you did know people they're all wearing fantastical masks and makeup, and it's really hard to recognize people? and then you hang out with some people you do know in a back room, and you get mildly high from all the pot smoke? and then you make your way through the drunk people carrying pumpkins and yelling about scotch, and get home safely only to find that when you wake up you have a horribly misshapen eye, possibly due to some random skin allergy and the cheap drugstore false eyelashes you were wearing? and then you start your nanowrimo novel and you get about 1800 words into it, before realizing that writing fiction is HARD and you seem to have adapted to writing only dialogue and you've forgotten how to DESCRIBE?
don't you hate that?
also, when you haven't figured out the direction your blog should go in, so you continue its ongoing theme about whining about your life?
don't you hate that?
i do, however have to say... 1800 words! in only 1.5 hours?! WTF?
it's a little easier when you realize that you're the only one who never has to read it.

just find your genre

so i've been thinking... perhaps my blog is in need of a theme. you know, like those foodie types who cook through some book and post pictures. or knitters who post about their projects. i think due to my lack of attention span, the theme would have to change every month. but perhaps i could devote a month to eating something with lemons in it every day. or maybe finding weird shit on ebay every day. or trying to read war and peace and posting my thoughts about it. EVERY DAY!
well, i am half serious. i think it would be a fun project. i mean, somebody must read this stuff? anyone?

in other news, i had yet another dream that my teeth were screwed into my jaw, and i kept accidentally popping them out. of course, at the time i thought "that's weird", and continued about my business, not realizing that i was loosing several teeth every minute. there was even one tooth that came out that was the size of my fist. i examined it, then realized it was a plastic tooth-shaped case of enormous proportions, in which was contained my plain old normal-sized molar. with a screw in the bottom.
by the time i realized "holy shit, i have 3 teeth left in my head" i was already involved in some intrigue with a fugitive from a tour bus, and having to reunite him with his lover. also, calling my dentist every few minutes.

perhaps i should focus my blog on my continuing concerns with my dental health.

but that would just be gross.

an open letter to gowan

dear gowan (or should i call you larry?),
i can't help but notice that it has been over a week since i asked you to be one of my myspace friends. this is a select honour, as i am virtually friendless in all aspects of my life. sure, i could have searched out glass tiger, or chilliwack, or frozen ghost, or any of the other greats of canadian music, but i chose you. perhaps it was your great hits like "cosmetic", or "strange animal" that drew me. if you'd bothered to view my profile, you would notice that i have chosen to share your masterpiece "criminal mind" with those who visit my page.
well gowan, i've just about had it. i'm tired of being greeted by the message that i am *still* waiting for your approval. i've got half a mind to cancel my request and search out gino vanelli instead. perhaps, like black cars, my profile would "look better in the shade". and then you'd be s.o.l, gowan.
still, i can't help but wonder if tomorrow your approval will shine down on me like so much sunshine after a long, gloomy rainstorm. only then will my friends list be truly complete.
so won't you please take a moment to approve my request? i think you'll find that i'm a kind, considerate, loyal friend. need to talk about the problems recording your latest single? i'm there. depressed about your thinning hair? let's go for coffee. need to know that i won't desert you for the friendship of alfie zappacosta? just check out your friends list. i'll be there for good.
hopefully this has cleared a few things up. i look forward to a long, long, internet friendship.
yours truly,
uberviolet

life in the big city

so here in stabby, stabby e-town, crime is a fact of life.
i was walking through the mall downtown, coming down the escalator outside of winners when i saw 2 guys steal a bunch of stuff. it was pretty well planned, for a shoplifting. one of them left the store with a group of people, his merch setting off the alarm. then, in the confusion of old ladies standing around looking through their bags to see what still had tags on it, the other guy took a flying leap through the exit. the two guys took off through the mall, dropping their bounty and stopping to pick it up, then body checking some poor guy into a door in their haste to get out.
oddly, there was no one in hot pursuit. everyone in winners (staff) just stood around looking confused. perhaps this happens all the time.
later, when i was on the bus going home, i saw two guys standing outside the entrance to the mall, the very same that the shoplifters had run out of. they were wearing the same kind of jackets (all that stuff you hear about eyewitnesses being fairly unreliable is totally true, all i saw were puffy jackets and that they were guys). i wondered if this might be the same young jd's. one of them seemed pretty proud of an unopened package of blistex (do they even sell that at winners? perhaps they were on a mall crime spree), and the other one was chowing down on a full pack of twizzlers. maybe it wasn't those two guys. maybe the shoplifters were long gone, and these guys just had chapped lips, a sugar craving, and happened to be somewhat shady looking.
if i were going to shoplift, it probably wouldn't be from winners. although, seeing their low, low security response, perhaps i would re-evaluate. but why shoplift when i can take advantage of their low, low prices? and more stock arriving every day!
plus, i can't think of too much in winners that i would want to steal. ill-fitting, off-size "designer" brands? strange foamy shoes? last year's day timers?
now, if we were in home outfitters, i would be sure to wear something with extra pockets. or something roomy, so i could fake a mixmaster pregnancy.

group discourse and the denigration of art

interesting what happens when you get a bunch of artists in one room.something in their instincts kick in. i don't know if it's the inherent insecurity of those in the arts, something that makes us want to appear better or less scared than we are to others in our field. i don't know what it is. but as soon as you have a lot of artists together, this real bitterness seems to form and hang in the air.
i try not to be bitter. i make a conscious effort. i believe that specific brand of bitterness comes from a sense of entitlement, like "i deserve to be produced" or "dammit, why won't anyone publish me?" or "person X has 8 productions and numerous awards, why the fuck are they so hard done by?"
that's the crux of it to me. everyone has this sense of entitlement, like they should be recognized just by virtue of putting stuff out there. i wish everyone's work could be recognized, i really do. but it's not like someone's holding a gun to my head, or holding my cat hostage and forcing me to pursue an artistic career. i can walk away any time i want. i can get a real job and have a real savings account, and try to forget that i ever wanted to do this. sometimes i wonder if it would make me happier.
i doubt it would. i stay in this because i want to. i want to do something, and that has nothing to do with being published, or getting awards, or even getting scads of money for my work. money is great, though. i really love money, don't get me wrong. but i don't think i have any right to get angry about others not recognizing what i am choosing to do. i mean, i'm not curing cancer here. i write. i act. i do some other stuff.
i'm sure everyone else gets just as scared as i do. like "what if this really sucks?" or "what if this person really is better than me?" everyone else has just as much insecurity. but i don't want to dwell on it, let it consume me. i want to use that to work harder, to try something different. to be brave enough to believe in what i'm doing, no matter what anyone else thinks.
is that lame? probably.
but it's true, too.

discover your jack-o-lantern face @ quiz me

the end of an era

so today, realizing that i have no money (due to mailbox STILL being broken), and recognizing a shopping trip we took to futureshop yesterday, we decided to do a little budget grocery shopping. now our cupboards are stocked with the deliciousness of kraft dinner and cup-a-soup. but when we left, i decided i wanted some rice noodle rolls. so we stopped in at the chinese superstore.
and discovered it is CLOSING! my source of cheap tofu, cheap and mysterious candy, bizarre noodle products is GONE! today they had their closing out sale, but all that was left were some humorous etchings of "Pete Pickerel" and "Pearl the Oyster". i was hoping to at least score some bargain-basement-priced pocky, but that too was gone.
as far as the mailbox goes, i don't know what to do. it was broken into September 9, and is still not fixed. Canada Post is sometimes leaving letters in the clearly destroyed mailbox, sometimes giving our mail to the building manager, sometimes returning it to sender, sometimes holding it at the post office for pickup. however, no amount of stern phone calls can make them admit they are doing anything but delivering our mail safely. and i can't even say i'm taking my business elsewhere, since there is but one postal service.
apparently our mailboxes are manufactured in exotic quebec, where they are on back order. also, there is some kind of delay with the people who install mail boxes in apartment buildings.
the upshot of all this is that i have yet to receive my last paycheque from work.
hence the need for rice rolls, kraft dinner, and cup-a-soup.
in the good news department, i have not yet begun to turn blue. i am, however eagerly awaiting the side effect of hair and eye colour changes.

i have a golden ticket...

so this morning i went to a doctor, who gave me a prescription. and when i went to fill out the prescription, i expected to have the normal pharmacist-explains-the-side-effects conversation. instead the pharmacist said:
"one of the side effects is... it might make you turn blue."
i'm not sure what my facial expression was, but the pharmacist then clarified:
"well, blue-ish."
now, since my halloween costume is blue, i thought this could save me some coin in the makeup department. but when i questioned further:
"turning a little blue is normal. but more than a little blue, call your doctor."

needless to say, the first thing that popped into my mind was a willy wonkaesque scenario in which i would turn a horrible colour to pay for my misdeeds.
i'm kind of excited to see what will happen. will i instantaneously turn completely blue? will i notice a gradual shading of blue that deepens as the days go by?

How will i know the difference between being too blue and just blue enough?

like fish in a barrel

doing a little extracurricular writing today, working on the "plot" of my "novel" for NaNoWriMo. not ashamed to say i'm working on a collection of zombie-themed short stories. because you know what's easy to come up with? zombie-related plots. what's so non-threatening about this? i don't know. maybe my genre is zombies. maybe it's just completely non-threatening because it doesn't have to be good. do i think i could write 50000 words about zombies and humans affected by them? damn straight.
of course, we'll see how confident i am once november 1 hits.
so far i have 28 zombie story plots.
each one more awesome than the next.

at this rate...

i will accomplish something before 2007!
having completed another page of my play (one a day being better than none a day), i was watching a little telly. there was a fellow on there who had a phobia about the gym, because everyone who goes to the gym looks amazing and is incredibly intimidating. (obviously, he hasn't seen my gym. people there look scary-intimidating, not neccessarily amazing-intimidating). so he decided to take up bikram yoga instead.
now i will say, if you're concerned about being around amazing-looking people, yoga class may NOT be for you. i can drag my fat ass to the gym and tune out all the good looking people, but yoga class? everyone i've ever seen in yoga classes looks incredible. even the 80-year olds look like they could kick my ass repeatedly.
plus, i get grossed out by bikram. all the sweat flying everywhere. my sweat, the sweat of an 80-year old ass-kicking man, all the other sweat just trickling off of everyone. potentially evaporating in the heat and being breathed in by me. my lungs becoming a cabana party for the sweat of those around me.
ick ick ick.

medical training is not required to diagnose hiccups

that is a quote from emedicine.com, a favourite site of mine as a pessimist and hypochondriac. i learned this piece of information when i looked up "hiccups" after having had them on and off for... oh, about 4 hours now.
and these aren't your average "oops i ate peanut butter too fast, better hold my breath" hiccups. these are LOUD. and painful. and, convinced that i was about to end up as a case study on "untold stories of the er" or something, i decided to look them up.
apparently, hiccups are really not anything serious. unless, of course, as i learned from emedicine.com, you have them for 60 years. which is possible, but far more likely in men.
good to know.
so far i have tried: being upside down, eating sugar, holding my breath, drinking water, being scared. the hiccups continue to come and go according to some mysterious cosmic schedule.
any suggestions, quotes from The Doctor's Book of Home Remedies would be greatly appreciated.

i don't want to cause a stampede...

but guess who just wrote the FIRST PAGE OF A NEW PLAY? the first page of a play with a plot, characters, a beginning, middle and end?
this guy.
naturally, i was so overwhelmed with my success that i had to come on over here and brag about it.
this morning when i went to get my coffee, i was standing in line in front of two honest-to-god edmonchuk theatre celebrities. i was wearing my lovely cat toque, and, coincidentally, carrying a grocery bag full of cat food.
i'm not going to build this up. i said nothing. partially because i couldn't think of anything to say after "hey, how's it going?". the anticipation of the awkward pause to follow was too much to bear in my mind. also because i don't really know them at all.
also because it did look suspiciously like i was going to go home and eat a big honking bowl of kibble.

let it snow...

yes, it's snowing here.
after staying awake until about 3:30 getting some work done, i staggered to the alarm clock and turned it off. then went back to sleep until 11.
so i didn't make it to the gym today. oops.
must work on being able to commit to 2 things at once.

learning something new every day

so here i am, up in the middle of the night, trying to determine if time of day has something to do with when i'm at my best with creating. naturally, the temptation to use the internet (damn you, myspace!) overcame me almost immediately. and just randomly looking up subjects... for example... "writer's block" (totally at random, mind you), i stumbled upon a startling theory.
many people believe that writer's block does not in fact exist. all it is is the name we give to the inability to commit and make a decision.
naturally, this did not in any way seem familiar to me. lack of confidence? fear of not producing something perfect?
how could these possibly apply to my life?
yes, it's true. doing writing exercises has been feeling good and all, but i can't get PRODUCT out of my mind. reaching the finish line. moving on to something else.
so, it stands to reason, that i have a hard time getting started.
the fabulous Dr. Matt and i were once having a discussion about random numbers, specifically, the lottery. i argued that numbers i especially chose (my cat's birthday, my anniversary, etc.) would have LESS chance of being chosen, since these numbers had a specific significance to me, and what would the odds of that be? naturally, this influenced my strategy to always go with QuickPick. but, Dr. Matt eloquently argued, the numbers that the computer generated for me would immediately take on a special significance to me, as they were my lottery numbers. (am i getting this right?). hence, either sequence has an equal chance of being drawn.
this is how i feel about ideas... i'm trying to let something i don't care about sneak up on me, so i can get something out of the way and accomplish it. but, as soon as i have an idea, it immediately has a special significance to me. i care. perhaps because it could be my NEXT GREAT IDEA. perhaps it's because i feel like a slacker next to YOUNGER, MORE ACCOMPLISHED ARTISTS. perhaps i'm afraid of failure. or success. or all of the above.
bleah. sorry about the supah-emo whiny brain dump. but isn't that what the internet is for?

can i get a witness...

to how much microsoft picture it! sucks?
just doing a little reorganizing of stuff on the computer, decided to finally upload my pictures from vegas... such as they are. here are a couple of them:



as you can see, vegas is a very dangerous place.





but one full of exciting opportunities!



and terrible frustrations...











and just a lot of stuff that doesn't really go together.

it's better than bad, it's good!

well, the tv channel i adore is back... that's right, LOG is back on tv for a very special thanksgiving edition.
for those of you not familiar with LOG, it's basically a fireplace on your tv. usually scored with the elevator-grooving sounds of symphonic christmas music, it plays here during the holiday season, relaxing the viewer with its crackling warmth.
the thanksgiving edition of LOG is a little sadder.
basically it's a cheery fireplace, with a blazing fire going. however, on the hearth is placed a juicy turkey with all the trimmings. just sitting there in front of the fire. sitting there, alone. no hands reaching in to carve the bird, or, god forbid, offer you a plate. which i assume you are in desperate need of, if you're watching a turkey sit in front of a fireplace on thanksgiving day.
since there are no thanksgiving songs to speak of, it's just a tuneless meld of orchestral music, mocking you with a turkey you can never taste.

i, on the other hand, never want to eat turkey again, having enjoyed not one, but two full-on turkey dinners yesterday.
and there are still plentiful leftovers in the fridge.

well, it's here.

yes, all that time i spent mentioning "i'm going to take a couple of months off to write" has finally come back to bite me in the ass. it's here. my time. to write. i said i was going to take a couple of days to relish the luxuries that come with unemployment, and it's been a week. i find myself googling things like "perfectionism" and "fear of writing". faithfully going to some "research" websites i have bookmarked. reading them. and... nothing.
it's not like i don't have ideas. i have lots of ideas. lots of projects planned. some with deadlines. deadlines in the far-flung future, but real deadlines, nonetheless.
i was thinking to myself last night, as i was trying to sleep, "why can't i just commit to this? do i really want to commit to this (and by this i mean an artistic career)? the answer is yes. so i just have to commit myself to doing this or go find something else to do.
i watched "the weatherman" last night, and there was this monologue about how you imagine what you're going to be like when you grow up, all these accomplishments, all these qualities you think you're going to have. and gradually, these things, these possibilities get narrowed down. all these potential lives you have imagined for yourself get narrowed down to what you are.
i spend far too much time thinking about past possibliities that won't be realized. and far too much time thinking about the future without doing anything about it now. in short, i would be a bad buddhist.
yesterday i found myself looking for another stupid secretarial job, more out of boredom than anything else. and i had to make a conscious decision to stop myself. to try this. to try now, instead of buying time for myself while decomposing behind some random desk.
it should start with a word. this will all start with a few words. and it won't matter if i suck, because no one will ever have to read it.
i will keep telling myself that. and i will stay away, far away from my resume.

too soon...

today i saw a christmas tree in the window of army & navy. as if that wasn't bad enough, i saw both egg nog and soy "noel nog" on the grocery store.
i haven't even figured out my halloween costume yet! so far it's down to three choices... little dead riding hood, a my little pony, or an "i don't care bear". i'm leaning towards the latter two, as they will essentially have the same base. meaning one of those godawful velour track suits in a pastel colour. i think i'm innately drawn to the mlp costume, just because of its inherent glamour. i want big shiny drag queen eyelashes and stick on rhinestones! i may, however, opt for the funnier one.

hey guess what

for some reason, i have extended my contract at work. perhaps it's the lure of greed and money, perhaps it's some dormant math gene rumbling into being. more likely the money though.
but of course, this time next week i will be in beautiful downtown las vegas!!!
not to mention an extended stay at the denver airport. both ways. hopefully it's a good airport with things to do. i'm not hopeful, though.
yes, work is being good to me. despite the fact that Mysterious Medical Ailment has caused me to take numerous days off in the last couple of weeks. despite the fact that i told them i was going to vegas. in fact, i get all this time off paid. sick days! vacation!
why didn't someone tell me working for the government was so damn sweet?
in any case, after my job is done, whenever that is, i have my plans. my screenplay. my project for NaNoWriMo. the show that i somehow sweet talked my way into us doing next spring.
must clear some space on my digital camera for the many, many ironic photos i plan to take.

the big sleep

well, my resolution to keep up with the blog certainly has gone to hell in a handcart.
however.
today, while recovering from Mystery Medical Ailment #458 (see also: ugly giant itchy welts), i took the opportunity to take a couple of benadryls (see also: another drug i'll never get addicted to) and relax while watching my stories. needless to say, mere moments later, i opened my eyes to find it was approaching 7pm. yes, 4 hours of my day off, wasted. consequently, it's 2:23 am and i can't sleep.
in any case, i had the most disturbing dream while i was sleeping. i know it's a common dream, and i've had it before. i dreamt that i was going to start working with a new boss, and that i was going to be late for work. but i kept putting off calling in and mentioning that i was going to be late. while eating something, i felt a familiar SP=ROINGGGGG! (see also: how i lost a tooth on a tootsie roll one fateful halloween) and realized that i had popped out/broken off all my teeth. needless to say, it was distressing. i looked in a mirror and saw that my front teeth were about 1/4 inch long and jagged, some teeth were missing entirely, with a couple of lonley chompers left here and there. so i start screaming to the effect of "oh my god, all my teeth!", and everyone around me just shrugs it off. and then i realize at that point that it's about 4pm and i'm never going to make it to work. plus i am horribly disfigured. but the most disturbing part of the dream, was that in the dream, i was aware that i was wearing someone else's teeth. like i'd borrowed aunt edna's dentures or something and was wearing them around and suddenly destroyed them. i remember desperately searching for my teeth on the ground, and coming up with only fingernail-clipping-like shards. and thinking "oh no! i've ruined her teeth!"
gross.
when i finally woke up, i was hesitant to check and see if my teeth were still there. fortunately, they are.
for now.
i guess the moral of the story is: never lend me your teeth.

deja poo

oh my i have seen this shit before...
yes, i officially am going crazy at my job. it's not so much the job itself as the fact that every other day they completely change every single procedure. and that we're doing shiftwork. and that even though my days off are staggered, i'm apparently supposed to have all my work that comes in on my day off done within 20 minutes of arriving for my next shift.
argh. august 31 cannot come soon enough for me.
at least i have tomorrow (today) off.
my birthday has officially come and gone. so now it's time to make some birthday year resolutions...
1) going back to the gym. starting tomorrow.
2) start having more fun
3) write each and every day
4) start doing some more creative shit. music, decoupage, whatever.

so pretty much the same as usual.
also, the cat's fountain is broken. now he refuses to drink from the affectionately named "big boy cup" because he has a strong disdain for any water that is not 1)running and 2) chilled. i should have it so good. so i have to hunt down an adaptor, or buy the cat a new fountain. perhaps that can be on my list of things to do for tomorrow...

hmmm perhaps resolution number 5 should be to write a better blog. or at least a more regular blog.

i hereby resolve to try and find some interesting content for this thing.
does this count as writing?

i ask you

what could possibly improve spending your ENTIRE saturday doing data entry and payroll reconciliation? is there anything? well, last saturday as i was doing just that, having been called into work for overtime, it was made known to me that mine is the only computer in our section that can play CD's. the only one, in fact, with a cd drive. so my colleague in the next cubicle asked me if it would be ok if she put on some music. to which i thought "yes, that will make the time go by faster". and so she went down the hall to borrow some tunes from her friend.
now, i should have been suspicious at this point, since i clearly remember hearing bryan adam's greatest hits blaring from down the hall the previous weekend. so when d returned with a cd, i put pressed play with the best of intentions.
it was maroon 5.
now i'm as bad as anyone else, i used to bop along to "This Love" when it first came out, but have you ever listened to an entire album of that shit? his voice. his cheesy lyrics. lyrics that appeal to high-school girls, giving them a bizarre ideal of what a relationship is supposed to be like. this is where we get our fucked-up relationships, ladies. it's in the music.
so i did my best to endure it, hey, if there's anything better than doing math on a saturday, it clearly must be doing math while listening to this strung out hoot owl, right?
then d got up to get another cd. she said "hey, are you a jimmy fan?"
now, i ask you. if you were talking about music, who would you think was being referenced here? Jimmy Page? Jimmy Buffet? possibly. personally, i thought she was talking about Jimi Hendrix. of who i am not really a fan, but i was grasping at straws. so i said "sure". cautiously.
i pressed play.
it was fucking James Blunt.
now, to be honest, i actually thought that james blunt and the guy from maroon 5 were the EXACT SAME PERSON. they both have fucked up singing styles, they both write the most pretentious songs ever. they both have one radio hit from a most enshittening album.
but they're not. they are two different people. the main difference is that james blunt seems to make a lot of references to being high. in like every single song.
so d in the next cubicle (who was grooving along to my hell very happily) called out: "Hey did you know that James Blunt's girlfriend dumped him right before his album hit it big?"
"Really." I said. I mean, imagine leaving your whining emo pretentious druggie boyfriend. "What a tool."
Next week i'm bringing in the music.

another hit show

well, now that Commander In Chief has gotten the axe, there's room in the primetime lineup for another show. and why not cash in on the inexplicably continuing reality show craze?
I feel that "Easy Listening Idol" would be a hit. not only would geriatric folks like myself get to play, but we could showcase all the terrific adult contemporary music that's out there. not to mention those smooth easy listening chart-toppers from the past.
but who would be the judges?
it could be that i watched American Idol last night and got thoroughly depressed that they were singing songs from the year they were born. and one girl sang a song from 1988.
WTF? people were BORN in 1988? I was in grade 8!
of course, apparently the year i was born has been declared as one of the worst years in music history. i guess 1974 wasn't a particularly stellar year. all i can think of from that year is "Don't Go Breaking My Heart", which doesn't bode well.

in other news, i have but 4 hours left of indentured servitude to my job. 4 hours tonight, 4 hours tomorrow. and then i am done.

have you got another bit with some hair...?

after much cursing and gnashing of teeth, we finally finished our first attempt at completing a puzzle together:


unfortunately, the only puzzle we have in the house is a gift i bought J. at the antique market:



yes, the official Penthouse erotic jigsaw puzzle. surprisingly, with all the pieces included, as we found out. now i'm not sure if this is meant to be a fun couple's activity, or a titillating way for one to while away the hours in solitary fashion. i just know that every piece is flesh coloured. and with the packaging cleverly censored, there is no guide for assembly.
it was epic. J used his sexth sense to piece together all the naughty bits, i could only manage borders and drapery.
i'm not sure we're a puzzle couple.
but now that it's done, what do we do with it? that's what i've never understood about puzzles. you slave over these things for hours, and then you find yourself saying "oh! it's hot air balloons!". except that you've been staring at the photo of hot air balloons on the puzzle box for the past 3 hours. so some of the big reveal is a bit spoiled in that respect.
J has suggested that we mount it (no pun intended), but i'm really not sure where we would put it.

guess who's back

dr. matt reminded me that i haven't updated in a while. and there is much to update...
ok, maybe not. i finished my show, which went shockingly well. the best part was that i didn't have to go to work for a week and a half. it was the greatest reward. even greater than the money we made. of course, that made it all the more tragic to have to go back.
but, in a surprising turn of events, i was offered another job. a temp job, but a job where i make more money and only have to work 830-330. weekdays. no more weekends, no more late shifts, no more screaming customers. just sweet sweet data entry until 330 and i can turn on my brain again.
needless to say, i walked up to my manager and said:
"i need to talk to you."
Manager: ok
Me: I've been offered another job and I--
Mgr: GREAT!
Me: ... uh... and I guess I'm going to be leaving in two weeks.
(awkward pause)
Mgr: Of course, we'll all miss you.
Me: Of course...

well, that was weird. i at least expected a halfhearted attempt to get me to stay. not that i would have. but keeping up the social pretext would have been nice.
and then, i found out that just about everyone else who has ever given their notice gets kicked out the door with 2 weeks pay. because, you see, once the feeling of really not caring washes over you completely, you tend to get a little lazy with your call times. or maybe not go the extra 4 miles for the customer every time.
but apparently, i have no effect on the organization whatsoever, negative or positive. not enough to even try to get me to stay, not bad enough that they want me off the phones. just content to let me run out the clock.
which is fine. it just pisses me off that i could have had a week off before i started my new job. that and my current schedule for my last week is:
Monday 1215-815 (this is trouble. monday AND the first of the month and late)
Tuesday 415-815
Wednesday 3-8
Thursday 415-815

That's right, my last shift is a shitty four hour late shift. i'm not even sure where to turn in my security pass when i leave for the night forever.

but there's no reason to be bitter. the end is in sight.

i need to change my life

first of all, kudos to Dr. Matt, who has won himself one of these:



but more importantly, i was watching tv today (Project Jay to be frightfully honest) and I realized that i was unbelievably jealous of anyone who got to not go to work in a call center, and was able to pursue their own creative endeavours and just generally be the boss of themselves.

and then i realized.

i need to quit my job.
i need to quit my job and be unemployed for a few months with the objective of writing Strike Too, of finishing and sending off the Dutch play, and of getting to work on various screenplays/tv scripts. also, i can finish losing the rest of the weight and get an agent and be terrifyingly successful.

i have the technology. and besides, i can get another job. right?

but then i worry: see, i have all this money saved up to pay my student loan, and i think "just go halvsies on it... then you can write for a few months." then i have visions of going to the drug store to stock up on shampoo, tp, skin cream, all my other little expenses, so i never have to buy stupid shit that i waste my money on. and going to costco and buying a flat of tuna. and a case of ramen.

because i will surely starve.

but mainly, i will never have to go to my stupid piece of shit job again and be talked down to by people who don't understand the concepts of basic mathematics.

joy!

so now i have to decide how much money i need. and pay off some bills. and...er... face the fact that i will be my own boss.

i may need to hold out until the end of june in order to save up cash. not so bad since i have my "vacation" in a couple of weeks to do the show.

oh this will be sweet...
if i actually do it, that is.

burning a cd

which seems so outdated, since i really should just be compiling ipod playlists...
in any case, i really, really want to make a mix of the greatest epic rock songs. as in, considering "epic rock" a musical category. on the list so far...

"Heat of the Moment" - Asia
"Don't Stop Believing" - Journey
er, that "I'm sailing away..." song, is it Styx? I have no idea.
"Tribute" - Tenacious D

i think you get the picture.
also under consideration: "Paranoid Android", "Baba O'Reilly" and "I Believe in a thing Called Love"
so bring me your deliciously earnest, incredibly long, sublimely overdone rock tunes. i will make the greatest cd ever conceived.

any takers?

howie mandel would be pleased to know...

that someone at work has referred to him as

"did anyone watch deal or no deal? with that boston pizza guy? i'd never seen him before!"

poor howie mandel. hopefully he gets free pizza out of the deal.

friday confidential

even though it's actually saturday.

why can't the internet help me?
i typed in "soul crushing job", and it just gives me witty little "tips" from other people's websites like "cultivate your hatred" and "fake an illness".
this isn't what i need right now.
i know, i need to quit my bitching and moaning.
but i just got slammed with my 3rd? 4th? week of 12-8's.
why not just quit?
well, i really just don't want to go buy any office clothes right now.
i want to pay down some of my student loan.
and, uh, i don't want to deal with possibly being not so unhappy with my life?
no wait, scratch that last one.
i really really want to stick this out until i know if i'm in the fringe or not. that's until may or june. that's all i want. i can finish draft 4 of the script and then just fuck off and type memos for the rest of my life.

how do i stop myself from caring at all? or make myself care more? i'm not sure which i need.

hilariously, i always envisioned that my blog would be witty and well written and just really awesome and literary.

oops!

another request trickles in

yes, another request for my play has come knocking on the door. apparently the Big B has been selling the plays from Calgary in a kind of package of sorts, and now a theatre in kitchener has requested a copy of the script. which is good, although i worry that as they are given to productions of shows the size of Oleanna, that this may be a bit on the large-ish side for them.

production meeting last night. i sure am a-fearful of my work schedule clashing with my rehearsal schedule.

day off from the gym today. honestly, when you lose 16 lbs, don't you think SOMEONE should notice and comment? is it possible that i am so covered in fat that i will have to lose 50 or 60 lbs before it makes a visible difference to the public at large?

interesting study of the food chain last night. we were finishing our meeting, a table of youngish actors and writers, meeting with a successful filmmaker and writer (nominated for a GG, no less), when a certain artistic director entered with a certain former artistic director (boy wunderkind turned aging homeboy turned writing star) and we all started chatting. well, a certain misogynist feminist writer entered with the man who is most certainly not her boyfriend who is currently living in toronto, took one look and snubbed us all. now, is this because she was with another dude, and didn't want to get into it? pissed that j and collin and i were talking with the big boys? fallout from the reading that our filmmaker had directed of her disastrous play?

this is why it's impossible to bring non artists into these situations. the politics are WAY too complex.
my apologies to the fact that this speculation was actually aimed at about 0.01% of people reading this who will know the parties in question.

well, off to a delightful evening of work. i'm thinking of posting a safety statistics sign, except mine will say "Hours without being yelled at". i wonder what it will get up to???

am i still alive?

the answer is yes.

i just suck at posting on my blog, apparently. but never fear, things are still the same here.

i'm giving some serious thought to quitting my job, if only so i can work somewhere where i don't have to be there for 12-8 for 2 weeks straight. plus saturday afternoons. i don't know what it is about those particular hours of the day, well, besides the jerky customers, but i just can't stand it. that and my schedule keeps changing. also, i should be starting rehearsal soon.

is it wrong for me to say that a corporation can't own me? like that i don't owe them something extra? beyond providing my (excellent if i do say so myself) services in exchange for money? isn't that the trade? i work. they pay me. they don't get to have extra dibs on all my time. right?

not to mention that no matter how much $ i get paid, when you're working 12-16 hrs a week, it doesn't matter.

realizing that i could currently make more money flipping burgers for $7/hour really puts things into perspective.

sadly, i must go to work now.

u/v

le petit noel

everything was quiet down at the Gingerbread Crack House...



when suddenly, a miracle happened!

santa came...

and brought us presents!


a hello kitty jewellery box!

that would show me the need for a nose job!


something was in the air...


it was time for a revolution!


A DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION!



and he said with a FLASH as he flew out of sight...


merry christmas to all and let's dance through the night!


and god bless us, every one!

is this thing on?

is this blog finally working once again?
i'm tired of typing just to find that nothing displays.
so, back to work.
it's AWESOME.
if you define awesome as sitting next to a mr. k last name rhymes with "locked in". not to mention that my new team doesn't speak to me. as well as being reindoctrinated into the cult. and as i listen to these people talk, i occasionally find myself nodding my head along with them, lulled into submission and agreement. then, later, when the haze lifts, i find myself thinking "what the hell?"
example, everyone who was in sits around spouting this type of dialogue:
"I'm going to the christmas party"
"Oh i'm totally going to the christmas party."
" Are you going to the christmas party?"
"Damn straight. I have a date to the christmas party."

and so on. and the conversation invariably ends with a smug look over at me, as if to say "we're popular. we're going to the christmas party."

it's quite junior high.

u/v

same old same old

same old same old

i want to be a cowboy...

well, i don't, actually. but i am headed to cowtown in but a few short hours for the play reading tomorrow night. get to stay in a swank hotel and hobnob with... uh... well, i don't really know. and my outfit choices for tomorrow night are either (a) kind of slutty looking, and (b) make me look a little sausage-y. i'm sort of leaning towards slutty, but who knows what my whims will lead me to do tomorrow. and just in case my ego was getting the best of me, i had to call this morning to book a ticket for J., and i went through the whole spiel with the ticket agent, gave my name and everything, and at the end of the call, she was like "how did you hear about this event?". and i was like "... uh... i wrote the play?"
so needless to say, i don't think the paparazzi will be hunting me down just yet.
any of you edmontonians who may be following along, there is a reading nov. 11 at 8pm, trans alta lobby (right where the fringe is, and the farmer's market in strathcona).
i have a ridiculously large suitcase that i'm taking to calgary. it's not even really full. it's just that i only seem to own tiny luggage or gargantuan monstrosities of suitcases. hopefully we're not riding down in a mini or something like that... perhaps a mini with a roof rack would be ok.

i don't know what's going to happen when i get back. my temp job ends. the lockout continues. i think this was the one and only voting situation where i felt my vote actually mattered... i voted "no", and considering that the no's only won by--what, like 56 votes?-- i was glad i did. even though it was horrid and disorganized to do it at the last second by absentee ballot.
i don't know how i feel about going back to the line. i'd like to. but i don't know if i'd be welcomed there. since i've been gone for a while, i feel like people will think i abandoned them, or i left them to stand outside for my job while i went and got a paycheck somewhere else. i'm afraid people will think i've been scabbing. which i haven't.
maybe i should just give up and accept that i'm probably never going to go back to work there again. because i am so broke it is a bit frightening.
anyway, that's for next week.
off to visit e-town's cooler, younger, chick-magnet brother.

u/v

in other news for all you obsessive blogreaders...

did someone say deadbeats?

looks like allthingsbrad is back up and running. from la belle province.

so apparently i'm losing higher brain function...

since my email post went absolutely nowhere. disappeared. into the ether. perhaps i've just randomly posted on someone else's blog.

anyhoo, i just saw some clips on the news about the ratification meeting held today. i myself will be the lucky recipient of an absentee ballot, seeing as how this temp has asked for just a little too much time off as of late. and wouldn't you know it, VFC is down, i can't even get the dish.

i did see a certain mr.david d. on the fringes of the pushy-pushy that they showed on the news. as well as a scab known only as "sally", who i must confess i wonder if she is the same sally who was quoted in the paper as "i thank god every day for telus".

i've never met anyone named sally in real life.

otherwise, i was watching tv tonight and saw that prison break is coming back... and badder than ever! you know, i was thinking... actually, in case no one watches this shit but me...

so there's this Hot Sensitive-Looking Guy. you know, the kind of HSLG who wouldn't last 10 minutes on an actual prison show like Oz. but his brother's in trouble, see. he's in trouble because he's on death row for assasinating--- THE VICE PRESIDENT's BROTHER! naturally, such a high-profile crime (because we can all name and care deeply for Cheney's extended family, right?) gets him an expedited trial, and apparently the appeals that normally hold death row cases up for 14 years or so just don't exist. oh, and he's got some kind of troubled kid who's on his way to becoming a young hood. and, uh, there's this girl (that really terrible chick from The Craft? not the buggy-eyed one, the really bad actor one) who's becoming obsessed with his case because they used to go out or something.
anyway. back to HSLG. he's managed to get himself thrown in jail, coincidentally the same jail his doomed brother is housed in. but, fortunately, he's managed to get a series of intricate tattoos all over his body. tattoos of nemonic devices! and... a map that just could facilitate a PRISON BREAK.
so for reasons i can no longer remember, HSLG pretends to be diabetic so he can spend time in the doctor's office, as well as with the innocent young lady doctor who just can't resist a bad boy. pretending to be diabetic requires a vast manipulation of not only hormones and sugar levels, but also the whole prison gang system. as well as helping the warden build a popsicle stick scale replica of the Taj Mahal.
wait, what's this show about?
right. the PRISON BREAK.
so HSLG is using the map on his body to tunnel his way through the sewers, over to death row, back to the doctor's office, and out to freedom. for some reason, none of this gets started until about 5 days before his brother is supposed to be executed. actually, it's kind of a lame, lame version of 24. but in heaven. because there, a thousand years are like a day. except when you're watching this show, it's the other way around.
so, in the first episode, he pretty much breaks out of prison. (oh, right, SPOILER ALERT!) but of course there are the usual complications with the mafia, white supremacist gangs, shemales, and so forth. not to mention that the warden is about to TRANSFER HIM TO ANOTHER PRISON.
which brings me to my original point.
i thought it would be cool if he did get transferred to another prison. then the rest of the season would be him breaking out of his new prison, then breaking into his old prison, and breaking out again, saving his brother forever.
that way, we'd all get our money's worth! 3 PRISON BREAKS for the price of one!

u/v

well it's that time again...

tomorrow is date day. and i have a brand new haircut and brand new skanky stick-on nails all ready to go!

but, considering the current "unpleasantness" at my company, and considering j is an unemployed actor, i think we need to come up with some cheapo date ideas... even cheaper than last week's bowling extravangza...

here are some many excellent ideas for those of you looking for cheap dates... activities, that is:

* a smell adventure!
that's right, go on a smell adventure. you see dogs do it all the time... just follow your nose down a busy urban street, and create astonishing mental pictures of what might have happened. how did these smells get here? who created them? who else will smell them later today? don't be afraid to get your nose right up into some of those interesting stains.

* attend an AA meeting
where else can you go for (free) coffee, meet some exciting folks, and see the ultimate reality show? sit near the back.

* DIY poetry slam
just start spouting off whatever comes into your head. see if your partner can top it. it's poetry! preferable to do it whilst walking down a busy urban street, perhaps having a rest from your smell adventure

* extreme shoplifting challenge
who says crime doesn't pay? an exciting couples activity, you can challenge each other to steal bigger, pricier, shinier items, all using your FREE five-finger discount! see who can walk out of the store with the most stuff. see who can make the most repeat visits to a single store. handicap each other by sewing pockets shut. a great holiday season activity!

feel free to add your own!

u/v

is spamming the new intimacy?

lately i've been really impressed by the folks reaching out to me on my blog-- offering me helpful links to their own blogs about viagra and home financing, and student loans and the like.
but i want more. i need to connect more with my fellow bloggers.

how can i do this?

first of all, i have this massive student loan to pay off. my student loan isn't just a regular student loan, it's a massive student loan. it even prevents me from getting a mortgage, otherwise known as home financing. i know that a mortgage or home financing is just like a student loan, in terms of the massive debt. i can't wait till i pay it off, then i can get all the viagra, xanax and celexa that i need! maybe i can even pay for some poor man's penis enlargement! that way he can be ready and rockhard extra inches at a moment's notice!

that should get the spambots cooking...

u/v

clearly, i am the worst blogger ever

well, maybe not ever. but i can't believe how long it's been. and do i have news?

well, no.

but tonight i was treated to a delightful sci-fi romp on ye olde pay tv. maybe you've heard of it? it's called: ALIEN VS PREDATOR.

holy hell this was the biggest piece of shit. ever.

now, granted, i have only seen bits of various Alien movies, and have never seen Predator. so i may not have been this film's target audience.

but from what i can gather, Alien (a serpentine parasite) and Predator (uh... a Klingonesque race of hunter-dudes who were royally ripped off in that Matrix sequel. the one with the inexcusably long highway chase) are eons-old enemies. Predator has been hunting Alien for sport, and (oh yes i am serious) were using the ancient civilization of Aztecambodigypticans whose temple is located...

wait for it...

DEEP BENEATH THE FROZEN TUNDRA OF ANTARCTICA.

but the temple has been dormant for many years. until a group of international and attractive (well, except for Lance Henriksen) archeologists are lured to the frozen continent by some sort of.. heat signal? Dopplar radar signal?

whatever. anyhoo, they all go down into the hole and they all get slimed/exploded-stomached/spine removed, etc.

except for our heroine, some sort of environmental technician/ice-climbing chick who Predator accepts as one of his own, and they fight together for the future of the earth.

oh. i guess i should have put a spoiler alert here somewhere.

anyway, there's a really unintentionally hilarious shot of chickie and Predator leaping together to avoid... THE FIREBALL THAT THREATENS TO CONSUME THEM!

as far as the whole AVP thing, well, they just don't ever really fight. but the ending does leave it wide open for a sequel.

u/v

not sitting by the phone...

well, tonight at the beer garden, j approached a certain director and asked if he'd cast all his ladies for a certain shak-spear play... mr. x replied "oh, yeah, i really want to ask ms. x to do it, don't you think she'd be great?"
to which j subtly suggested that he might want to do auditions, and even less subtly suggested he might want to see me for the part in question.
"oh. OH. Ah haha hahaha!"
so what else could i do but join in and say i'd be delighted to audition for him anytime he wanted to see me, ha ha ha.
so, needless to say, this ms. x will not be waiting by the phone.

in other news, i believe i will be accepting a temp office job tomorrow... it won't start for a couple of weeks, have to get a criminal record check done, and such. i have a feeling the... unpleasantness won't be resolved anytime soon, so i suppose i might as well cash in. besides, i've really been missing the blandness of business casual in my wardrobe as of late. can't wait to pick up some khakis and sweater sets at fairweather. time will tell if it's a stirrup-pant friendly environment.

u/v

at last a use for my blog

no, it's not strike lockout related news.
i just want to say that if anyone like me enjoys the guilty pleasure of big brother 6, the dirt slinging has begun. and i have to say that howie's new nickname for bitchy mcbitchalot is never going to get unhilarious.
BUSTO!

CLASSIC!

u/v

on a totally unrelated subject...

well, things are a little up in the air here. and perhaps it's because Buddha or Pan or whoever is telling me that now is the time to get that joe job with the flexible hours and the freedom to do what i want. some kind of part-time gig whose resulting poverty will force me to write some brilliance just to haul myself up out of the gutter.
in the meantime, i'm already gunning up to wind the superpass for naming the 2006 fringe. here are some ideas:

1) Fringeapalooza
2) Fringerrhea (my personal favourite)
3) Fringe-a-Roni
4) Chef Fringeardee
5) Fringe This!
6) Fringe Off!
7) Fringe My Ride
8) Fringitosis (j's idea)
9) Fringe Tibet!
10)A Fringer's Guide to Replacing Words with Fringe (Fringe, fringe)
11) Merry Fringe-mas!
12) The Quick and the Fringe
13) Remembrance of Fringe Past
superpass: you. are. mine.

u/v

you, scab-bot

the laws of scabotics:

1) a scab-bot must not harm the money, or, through inaction, allow the money to come to harm.
2) a scab-bot will obey orders given to it by The Company, even where such orders conflict with the First law
3) a scab-bot will protect its own existence, as long as such existence does not conflict with the First or Second laws.

my life as a teenage deadbeat

sadly, B-Rad has removed the original posting. just imagine it's exactly like my post, except he calls everyone on the line deadbeats.

allthingsbrad: Hectic Days

original poster's comments are referenced above.


Deadbeat Days

It has been quite a hectic life I'm leading lately. I'm putting in my hours on the picket, and then some, because of the lockout going on at my work. That's right, I'm picketing, while people are still crossing the line... I don't believe in crossing a picket line over... ahhhh that's a whole other blog. I just know that I've never been happier to stand up and do the right thing. All of us "deadbeats" (to borrow from the brad) are out on the picket line, while the scabs are scuttling to work still. It's as if I hand-picked the people who I would choose to work mandatory overtime, as if I put together an elite list of the people who were in it solely for the money-- I love it!! And I'm getting my picket pay to boot-- it won't raise me into the next tax bracket, but my money is clean and earned honestly. Not to mention the perks we get-- anytime I feel like it, I can face myself in the mirror, sleep soundly at night, eat food delivered to the line by my brothers and sisters from other unions who are supporting us in our fight. And I just can't believe how much responsibility I'm taking on-- all those folks upstairs entrusting me to walk for their jobs as well as my own. It's almost as good as getting that promotion! And I can walk as much over the required hours as I want-- no enforced overtime here! I've lost seven pounds so far! What an amazing environment!

the do's and don'ts of picketing

yes, friends, i am currently "walking the line". and here, i will share some tips about striking that may help you in future labour disputes:

1) think of neutral conversation topics. suddenly, you find yourself spending hours each day with people who you liked to talk to on your coffee break, but never really wanted to meet in real life.
2) don't be afraid to walk away, walk alone. see above.
3) develop conspiracy theories.
4) trying to break up the monotony of chanting for traffic honks by leading people in a round of "we're here, we're queer, get used to it!" is NOT funny.
5) wear comfortable shoes.
6) keep an eye out for media, remember this is YOUR time to be discovered. tape the news and send a clip reel to potential agents.
7) rewrite Green Day songs with union-relevant lyrics. then, grab the bullhorn and try to force others to join in the singalong.
8) take this opportunity to think of "clever" slogans, puns on the company brand.
9) play honk bingo. big trucks, 5 points. SUV's 4 points. compact cars, 3 pts. motorcycles 1 pt.
10) remember, the people who will heckle you are generally not the noel coward set. be prepared with clever comebacks such as "that's what your mom told me last night".
11) hold on to your sign. it gets windy out there.
12) keep up on the latest gossip. remember, information is currency.
13) don't let the bastards get you down.

Detroit and the Doppler 4000

i never realized how concerned detroitagonians were about their weather until i started getting a time-shifted detroit channel on digital. every single day, i could be sitting here watching dr. phil or whatever, and the screen will go black, and a deep, booming voice will alert me to a "CHANNEL 4 BREAKING WEATHER ALERT!!!". it could be a marine warning, a sudden rain shower, some scattered hail, or even just some sudden cloud cover. but whatever it may be, Channel 4 is there, with images from the Doppler 4000.

not that it ever seems to be an emergency. i mean, they never tell you to prepare to head for the basement, or to grab a flashlight and a transistor radio, or to keep an eye out the window for the nice young men from the national guard coming to evacuate you. hell, we've had tornadoes passing by here that had less tv interruption time.

which is kind of what pisses me off. i mean, i'm watching my stories, and they're just getting down to the shit, when suddenly Sam Mantooth or whatever the hell his name is is there telling me it may be raining on Main Street, yet he still manages to return to scheduled programming in time for THE COMMERCIALS. gotta pay for the Doppler, but still.

and i could understand if Channel 4's target demographic was some cluster of michigan storm chasers with loads of disposable income:







but aren't the people that are sitting in their houses in the middle of the afternoon, fretting about the weather, more like this guy than indiana jones?






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highlights of my day

1) the assmaster customer who called me "useless" while i went out of my way to be sweet and upbeat and help him sort out his phone service

2) rolling my little work filing cabinet over this bump in the carpet at work and causing a wheel to go flying off, throwing the whole thing off balance and causing the whole shebang to collapse to the ground

3) the girl at work who stole my desk and caused me to have to roll my filing cabinet over the bump in the carpet

4) being repeatedly bitten by the cat, who has incidentally developed a mysterious "sticky head" syndrome, i suspect from lying with his head in the garbage.

5) shin splints from running yesterday in the reeboks i have owned since high school

6) pangs of nostalgia for the LA Gear shoes i owned before the reeboks i wore yesterday, which also gave me wicked shin splints

7) not having to sit next to Optimus Prime at work for once

8) discovering that writing down "work on fringe show" in my day timer does not in fact equal a binding contract with myself to do so

9) discovering that Kelly whatsherhead won Dancing With The Stars, being mildly disappointed, then being mildly disheartened that i would be in any way disappointed by the results of a reality show i never watched.

10) od'ing on delicious, delicious sunflower seeds.

popularity

when did it leave me?

i never was one who enjoyed popularity... i spent most of elementary and high school secluded, hiding from bullies. a brief spate of friend-having followed in university, after which i decided to chuck it all and head out west for the open plains.

years passed.

which brings us to a couple of weeks ago. an unspecified birthday. a birthday to which numerous friends and even acquaintances were invited. said friends and acquaintances even said "yes, see you there, can't wait, it will ROCK!"

can you guess what happened?

the horror! every teenage nightmare come true. 4 people came out in total. i now acknowledge these select few as my TRUE FRIENDS. the rest... well, as i've said before, it just goes to show that high school prepares you for life in more ways than one, i suppose. where you spend your time secure in the knowledge that while you are morally and intellectually superior to them, the assholes seem to control the world and are rewarded for it.

i'm sorry, getting older has made me more bitter, apparently.

or it could be the running-induced exhaustion from my new fitness kick. either or.

yes, tom, there is a thorazine

is it physically possible for the once-beloved tom cruise to be any more of an asshole? i realize that he's decided to let it all hang out since firing his publicist and hiring a new girlfriend, but his Today Show appearance was too much. it was vile, nauseating, and all i needed to send me over the edge to a tom cruise boycott.

i mean, even ROSIE denounced her cutie-patootie tommy boy.

but seriously, tom. i understand, tom, that you don't believe in psychiatry. but tom, no, tom, listen to me. tom. we all heard you the first time, tom, that you are very much concerned with learning about history, and culture and so forth. but what i question, tom, is that i just can't believe that if you were really so into world betterment, that you'd be so fired up about making a piece of shit like the impending MI3. seriously, tom. it's just not plausible. it's like a... a pseudo-hypocrisy.

can't someone at universal just tell him to shut the fuck up? or can't we get A&E out there and get spielberg and katie and everyone together and organize some kind of intervention?

i mean, i don't believe that my problems are caused by emotional soul scars left by aliens from a past life, but i don't have to go to matt lauer to spout off about it. but next to that, i have to say that a chemical imbalance doesn't seem quite so improbable.

learnings for the day

today i learned two things:

1) i desperately need some lessons in acting for the camera
2) always, always wear sunscreen.

i am writing to you from beyond the taught sheath of sunburn, a sunburn i acquired after a mere hour under the assault of the earth's main star. the sun, when he's at home. i spent my time doing a short independent film, in which i had one line and was doing as a favour to a friend.

film is fascinating and confounding to me-- the actors are more like props, and there are the mechanics of keeping every take physically the same, while maintaining some level of spontaneity. i always feel stiff, awkward, like when you're on stage and notice the eye of the reviewer or a random audience member firmly zeroed in on you. i try to hard to seem natural. or i feel insecure next to the tiny size 0 girl with impossibly huge breasts who's playing the love interest. i, godzilla to her godzookie am dimly aware of the fact that i shouldn't care about impressing people i've never met and will likely never see again.

that, and the hangover from all the gin i drank last night. a different story, a story where j and i almost ended up in an altercation with skinheads at the birthday party of a friend. in a bar with a german name and blasting reggae music, we almost met our doom.

and the sunburn-- well, that's a curse i have to live with every summer. i don't know how long vitamin e cream stays good, i'm wondering if i'm going to come down with some dire skin condition from smearing it on my face every few minutes.

the good news is that bedlam is in fact doing a show in april, and i have been commissioned (in a way) to write some of the shorts. with that, the tour, and the reading in calgary in the fall, i can finally say with some confidence that i have a "season" ahead of me.

but will people like me? will they really, really like me?

that's the question of the day.

u/v

ps- when in doubt for a birthday gift, the New and Improved Fart Machine is a smashing success. particularly with the remote control feature.

could this be my problem?

i just took an online iq test.
it told me my score is 90.

90.

now, i realize one shouldn't place much faith in these internet tests, otherwise, one could suddenly find oneself suffering from OCD, irritable bowel, ovarian cysts AND erectile dysfunction, just from clicking away at the pop-ups.

but i wonder-- wouldn't it be easier just to be somewhat stupider?

i talk to stupid people all day. they tell me how they are shareholders and must fly to vancouver regarding their son's mysterious "condition". they tell me that if they say their phone number out loud then the people listening to them in their apartment will know it and call them, and harass them. i talk to people who don't understand the simple mathematics of -$99.95 + $99.95 equalling $0.00. i talk to people who spend 10 minutes waiting on the phone only to shout and holler that they only received pages 1, 3 and 5 of their bill.

i realize that i talk to crazy people. but also, to stupid people.

and they are so blissfully right. all the time. it never occurs to them to be insecure, or polite, or to think and consider and contemplate before they act.

i stole an issue of O magazine from the laundry room. mind you, i wanted to read an interview with Jon Stewart, but i was amazed at the branding, the sloganization of the oprah phenomenon. she tells me: "live your best life". well, i have to say, oprah, that i'm trying.

but then, i hear the booming drawl of dr. phil echoing in the recesses of my mind: "how's that working for you?"

who to believe... the audience on springer shouts "JERRY! JER-RY!" which is of no help at all, and maury-- well, maury has little to offer me.

"live your stupidest life"???

as a slogan, it needs work.

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test

this is a test to see if everything is working out ok.

everything on the blog, that is.

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i bring you a new theatre festival...

well, the nominations came out today-- i myself was not there, but word on the street has it that there weren't very many surprises.

but it got me to thinking-- if Ol' Dirty B (aka comic book guy/the hobbit overlord) can nominate his very own shows to be featured at the fringe holdovers, why then should not a new theatre festival spring forth...

THE HELDBACKS.

yes, my very own slamdance. ALL THE SHOWS THE VARSCONA DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE! find a venue and feature the ignored, the lowly, perhaps even the fontrumesque. and maybe, FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY, a performance of one show that desperately tried to get into the fringe but was a lottery loser. an exclusive, as it were.

i would poster it up an down the beer tents. i would make my own announcement, using a bullhorn, standing on a picnic table in the middle of Fried Crap Alley. and i would put on these shows.

it's time for a backlash.

and one day, when i am ever so slightly more popular and powerful, when my actions could only be interpreted as a delightfully witty jibe at the establishment, it shall happen.


The Heldbacks.

keep your eyes peeled for my day-glo posters.

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when will i be cool?

when i was younger, i used to fantasize that i would one day be cool. like, during grade 6, i imagined that my whole life would change once i went to junior high. you see, my junior high went from grade 7 all the way to grade 13. and grade 7-- grade 7 would be a place to make my mark, to reinvent myself for the years to come. i imagined that i would be a cheerleader. i used to take out books from the library on cheerleading, which i suppose was significant only in measuring the magnitude of my lameness, not my coolness-to-be. i would be a hottie. i would be POPULAR.

so forget that i managed to make a nerdly pursuit out of cheerleading. forget that i could sing along to the entire cast recording of Phantom of the Opera. forget that i was-- ahem-- somewhat tubby and wore pastel pink and blue clamdiggers on a regular basis, carefully matched to my peacock blue eyeliner.

i knew i was going to be cool. that high school was this magical place where people would see your inner light shining through.

but.

as much as i knew that i was destined to be cool, the cool kids knew that they were destined to STAY cool. and so all the popular kids from all the different feeder schools sort of glommed together into a massive imperial popularity crew conglomerate.

in that way, you know that way how cool/popular people instinctively recognize each other?

coolness was beyond my reach. for the moment.

i began planning for university.

university, incidentally, was very similar to high school, but more anonymous.

what i find strange and fascinating and perhaps worthy of sociological study, is how not only all the cool kids recognize each other, but how we all instinctively recognize the cool kids. still, now, even rolling down the hill to 31, i still recognize that there are cool and not cool people. the ins and the outs.

am i the only one who's still intimidated by the cool, the popular, those super-put-together people who could do the hair shelf thing in high school, and now have perfect ANTM type hairdos?

oh, what a big whine.
it's the diet. i swear, it's the soup diet.

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everyone's a winner baby...

i have news i cannot reveal.

news i have been sworn to secrecy about.

but there are some clues:

1) the dutch play
2) a free trip to the home of the stampede
3) some much-needed cash for my fringe tour fund.

can anyone guess? (i'm talking to YOU, elo.)
i'm not allowed to talk about it, though. not until june 8 or something. so if you can guess, you must not tell anyone.

fortunately i have been stricken down with horrible tara-reid-like laryngitis. a true plus when you're working in a call centre talking to jackasses on the phone all day.

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well, i'm home surprisingly early...

strangely, there was no show tonight. or last night. fortunately, my paycheque in no way depends on house size... thank god for contracts.
so i came home and had some yummy greek food and am now watching must see tv.

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unfortunately there are no links to post...

but the show is getting some of the worst reviews... to those familiar with the edmo community, liz (thanks a lot, liz) accused me and my scene partner of beginning the play in a fury of "grimacing and eye-rolling". like the show begins with some sort of theatrical seizure. which, in a way, it does. but i swear, i was just following orders.

"pretend you're on an episode of three's company..."

famous last words of Herr Direktor.

paul (www.vueweekly.com) apparently just didn't like the plays.

but the very best is the review at www.seemagazine.com that says "if you must see this, take advantage of the fact that it's put on in a bar, and quaff 2 or 3 drinks before the show. this should help take the edge off..."

S-NAP!!!

i swear, some of these reviews are so HILARIOUSLY written, the authors should consider writing plays themselves.... oh, right.

so apparently i am in a sucky play. i personally do not suck (unless you listen to Liz Nicholls, but come on, she starts out her review with "Yikes!". yikes. that's the kind of hard-hitting, well-thought-out journalism that... oh, fuck it, it just sounds like she's conferring with Velma and Shaggy. Zoinks!).
so my self-esteem is somewhat intact.

somewhat.

mostly i just can't wait for it to be over.

ZOINKS!

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this does not meet the standards for subtlety that i require in my haunted house 

why does everyone have my ideas first?

Don't click if you are afraid of Santa

this is what would be hanging over the fireplace when you go into my haunted house.

how i will make a million dollars

i would like to open a haunted house. not just your typical boring haunted house, but a THEMED haunted house.

a CHRISTMAS THEMED haunted house.

in october, i would have a sign outside that would say "haunted house" or "spookyville", just like everyone else on the block who runs a haunted house. but once people stepped inside, they would be overwhelmed by the mistletoe, and the blood, and the carols, and the crippling despair. perhaps dioramas of people electrocuted while putting up the lights, or who accidentally gassed themselves to death while putting the turkey in the oven. a head suddenly falling out of the chimney and rolling under the tree. you know, a haunted house.

but the best part... the best part would be in december, when i would once again open my haunted house. but this time, i would put out a sign that said "santa's village".

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Look what smudge broke now

mine was much cooler and i grudgingly accept that no one on ebay likes them either

still, he broke my cool little honey jar. and the lid. it had bees on it.

BEES!

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the end is near

well, opening night looms. my comfort is that i will only have to run the show 11 more times (maximum), counting tonight's dress rehearsal. i have at times the feeling of being in some kind of skit... perhaps it's the track lighting which illuminates the boards we tread, i mean the small platform in the middle of the pub. perhaps i'm insecure about performing on a strangely modified thrust using blocking that was done for a proscenium stage. perhaps it's the fact that i realize that if reviewers do come, it will be very difficult to leave a mention of me out of the review, seeing as how there are only 4 people in the show.

fortunately i have been brushing up with some acting lessons.

in answer to Dr. Matt's question:

i have never been to chicago, but what do vancouver's kits and toronto's annex have in common? ummm they're both trendy, overpriced enclaves of artistic types? who favour funky planters and porch lights?

an interesting key to who you truly are...

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the new miracle diet plan...

i was in the convenience store downstairs at work today, about to repeat yesterday's incredible lunch of chocolate milk and cheese, when i realized that not only was the annoying man buying the extra-oxygenated water staring at me with scorn, but that i may have hit upon the greatest diet plan of the century.

i call it the CHomp away your CHunk diet. all you eat are foods beginning with CH. chocolate. cheese. chili. cherries. etcetera.

then i realized it painted a fairly accurate picture of what i actually eat.

speaking of the crappy store downstairs, i noticed that they no longer stock the little cereals i used to buy. now, i used to get those little packs of froot loops or rice krispies or what not, the ones with the peel off foil tops like instant soup, that i thought were actually brilliant. i noticed that they never actually restocked after i bought the last one. they never restocked while i was buying the cereal, either. this was like 8 months ago. maybe they don't even make those cereals anymore.

creepy.

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and wash it all down with... 

chimichanga, anyone? 

lose 10 lbs in 10 years.... 

if david blaine were really magic

wouldn't it be cool if he floated himself over to, say, afghanistan, and was all like, "i've got to tell you something" in his love-child-of-stephen-wright-and-sean-penn-monotone-drone to some people who were just kind of hanging out. "do you believe in magic" and then the people would be all just staring at him blankly, the way the people in his specials do, or the way they might stare at some levitating, droning american, and he would continue in that about-to-pass-out-from-heroin-overdose-can't-keep-eyes-open kind of voice he uses "what would you say if i told you there were some LAND MINES right there? right where you're walking?" and then the ground would just kind of burn away with some really cool-looking colored smoke, and all the land mines would be revealed.

don't you think that would be cooler than just walking around freaking people out?

also, if i thought the doctors in the er were somewhat unsympathetic when i had that ruptured disc, what would they have been like if i had arrived after FREEZING MYSELF IN A BLOCK OF ICE for 62 hours?

i mean, they seemed pretty attentive to david blaine, but i think he practices some kind of mind control.

magic, you know.

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an unfortunate trip to the vet

due to his recent encounters with kidney stones, j must collect (as some choose to collect coins and butterflies) his pee for 24 hours. he has to collect it in a 3L plastic jug and turn it in somewhere or other tomorrow morning.

needless to say, this is clashing with The Smudge's penchant for knocking over glasses of water. particularly as the collector jug has acid in the bottom of it. i suppose it's medical acid of some sort. but i don't want to have to take The Smudge to the vet and try and explain away his urine-soaked acid burns, medical or otherwise.

"you see, dr. karen, j was quite proud of himself, having already collected 2.5 litres of urine so early in the day..."

The Smudge would probably do it to spite me.

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so where does Battlefield Earth fit in, again?

i was waiting for my bus today, when a jehovah's witness materialized. you know how they seem to be able to do that, just "poof!" and there they are in their nice clean suits, bible in one hand, offer of reading material in the other. just something to read while you're waiting for the bus, you understand. but at the same time, there's the implicit understanding between you that you must not accept the offer of reading material, or you are also accepting a whole other discussion of the material, as well as a discussion of your relationship with jesus, etc.

yet i've always been curious about the reading material. much the same way that i've always wanted to buy that copy of DIANETICS at the sally ann, but i know that i must not read DIANETICS on the bus. nor must i go up to the DIANETICS booth at the fair or the rummage sale, or whatever.

hey, i just want the reading material, not the sales pitch.

does that mean there's something wrong with me? am i closed minded?

example: whenever i think about following my desire to become a buddhist, i get quite hung up on the whole, uh, well, REQUIREMENT of giving up your desires. because i desire a lot of things. not things like cute convertible cars and chic camper shoes. but stuff like fame and success and stuff. and i realize that according to the buddha desire for these things causes suffering, but then for whatever reason (well probably because he's the famous buddhist) i thnk about richard gere and how he's famous, and he seems to be doing ok, but then i think "well, maybe rg doesn't desire fame, maybe it's just thrust upon him". but then i think about how one really shouldn't be thinking about richard gere when contemplating one's spiritual path.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

u/v

guess who?

the green-eyed monster

have you ever been incredibly, painfully jealous of someone that you really should be happy for, but after all is said and done, their complaining about their accomplishments just makes you feel hard done by? or like you're trapped on a path to insignificance, having long ago passed the offramp for your own future success?

just wondering.

on the plus side, the haunted stitch ebay guy seems to be doing well and profiting by his experience.

as well, a great pick-me-up is to go to popcap.com and play Typing Shark. Or Psychobabble.

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Find a way to see this now

BBCi - Cult - Classic TV - Ghostwatch

holy hell this is one of the most frightening movies i have ever seen. it was banned in the UK after only one broadcast, is apparently the only television broadcast ever to have caused post-traumatic stress disorder in children, and was linked by the tabloids to at least one suicide. they showed it here (God bless SCREAM TV) a few weeks ago, and j and i ended up huddled together on the futon hiding our eyes. even though i have no idea who any of these bbc folks really are, it's such a deliciously realistic documentary, over the top ending and all. i need to find this on DVD.

scary!

u/v

who am i anyway?

Bi... Bismuth You scored 81 Mass, 44 Electronegativity, 42 Metal, and 20 Radioactivity!

Ever wonder where the name Pepto-Bismol came from? You. You exist within the gray area between metals and non-metals. Personality-wise you are inflexible in your approach to problems, and you are prone to giving on everything when one thing gets rough... you may give up, but you don't walk away, and eventually you'll try again. You are a social element, but you have the tendency to let entire groups of friends lapse or disintegrate over time only to build them up again later. You might get along pretty well with Mercury or Lead. Of course, you might get along well with something else. You're actually kinda strange... I mean, look at you. Those are some freaky shapes you're forming.

Link: The Which Chemical Element Am I Test written by effataigus on OkCupid Online Dating

The Infinite Cat Project - Cats watching cats watching cats. It's a concept!

The Infinite Cat Project - Cats watching cats watching cats. It's a concept!

this is HILARIOUS. or sad. sad because i flipped through the first 30 or so pictures and was peeing my pants laughing at the cats.

if only i could take a picture of smudge and submit it for posterity.


speaking of smudge, i was making a costume today, and when smudge spotted the tiny safety pins i was using, he jumped up on the couch and started EATING them. eating them like they were the greatest treat ever. and then started biting me when i was trying to get him to spit them out.

so i think the cat ate some safety pins.

i called the vet, and they said not to worry. just to feed him to form a poo cushion around the pins.

but you can see why we might want to set up a pre-emptive memorial...

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