Quote of the day...

I'm not stuck up. Awesome people just seem stuck up.

Some Good Advice...

"When life gives you lemons, squirt juice in your enemy's eyes."

How very true.

Thankfully, this question has finally been cleared up!

I'm a geek.

Read more here.

P.S. For the record, I'm a "Modern, Cool Nerd". Do the quiz at the end to find out which one you are.

I'm blocked....

I really should just refer to this blog as my writer's block blog. Seems I come here whenever I'm stricken with that.

Of course because I'm having trouble what I need to be writing I'm distracting myself with random useless business. Like placing an order for a cake we need for a meeting3 weeks from now. And listening to Colbie Callait for the first time ever. Some of her songs sound like Christmas carols, but jumpier. And I'm planning a vacation I will probably never take to here. I've already researched how much airline tickets would cost and what I'd like to see when I got there. I was also planning my non-existent stop over in Munich.

I will do my best...

To my 3.75 blog readers out there, I have returned. I apologise for the extended absence. I haven't had much motivation to write anything on here for quite some time. And still I don't, but I find mysef in the predicament of a government employee in summer - with writer's block.

My job involves mostly (by "mostly" I mean only) reading and writing. Writing and reading. And then more of it. Unlike other bloggers who crave the opportunity to write some of their thoughts and musings down, at the end of the day, I crave nothing more than shutting my brain off. My thoughts are consumed with options and policy and projections on articles and letters and briefings that have crossed my desk. My musings nobody really cares about, cause well, it's government.

So I return to this blog to help me get over my writer's block. I will just write and write and write and not try to get sucked into the trap of sitting in front of my computer at my desk daydreaming about the ice cream truck around the corner. See. I just failed. Already. Oh well.

And so, I will do my best to keep you 3.75 entertained or at least, reading, the incoherent jibberish that I type. Until I can find you something better to replace myself with.

Super awkward randomness

Just some random thoughts, awkward things, on the super level:

- Why do all manufacturers of industrial bathroom products have two names? (ie: Kimberly Clarke, Matthes Williamson, etc)

- Have you ever played chicken with people on the sidewalk? Like staring them down until they move out of the way or until they force you to do it? I usually win, cause I'm a girl and I'm wearing heels, but I swear, there's some smaller Asian women who really give me a run for my money!

- The word "practicable". Really? I mean, really?

- I have never had milk come out of my nose but I so badly wanted it to when I was younger. Now I ever wonder why I wanted it to. Though part of my wishes I had achieved it - just so I'd know.

- I hate buying toilet paper and then making eye contact with people. It's like the minute they see you're carrying toilet paper their thoughts go to your bathroom use. And let's be honest with ourselves, as natural as the process is, random people thinking about your bathroom use is unattractive.

- For me there are really only two seasons: Wearing Socks and Not Wearing Socks. Currently, this season is Wearing Socks. But I am constantly scared that for some reason, I will have to remove my shoes and people will see my socks. This fear has resulted in me matching my socks to my outfit. Socks that no one really ever sees. I actually spend energy on this.

- I think I would be a good poker player. In general, I'm very spastic. I think it could hide my tells very well.

This past weekend as I walked into Tim Hortons to buy my mom some Roll Up the Rim coffee, a little boy sitting with his parents looked up at me and announced to his family, "Look! The nuns have arrived!" Yeah, thanks kid....only in Brantford.

What "being from Brantford" means....

It's Bran-Furd, not Brant-Ford.

There are streets calles Strawberry Lane, Sandy Row and Winter Way.

10 minutes from the farther point to the other further point.

Cockshutt Park is where you go to watch fireworks, eat cotton candy and get bittern by mosquitoes. At any other time of year you can't say the name wtihout giggling.

The Bell Homestead is a rite of passage for every single person living within the city - whether you're a new immigrant, moved from a bigger city, a smaller city, or are in grade 3. This is a necessity. You also must churn butter, bake shortbread and clean laundry old skoole.

Every street, no matter what, will either curve or at some part, become a hill.

You do believe that you will be the next Wayne Gretzky...along with your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbours, minor league hockey coach, the zamboni driver, etc.

Speaking of zambonis, I know the first woman to ever drive a zamboni in Brantford's Civic Centre. (Hey Linda!!!)

The most degrees of separation anyone has from anyone else is always 2.

We grew up with an awareness that hockey isn't Canada's national sport. This is.

Angels Diner is considered right up there with Montana's and Kelsey's as a "fine dining establishments". *shudder*

The Moose is not a moose.

There has never been a line up at the movie theatre, except when Shrek 2 came out.

A bush party really does mean just the bush. But it is imperative to know which bush. Otherwise, you could end up wandering alone in the dark for hours. I still just mean the bush.

Too many things were given Aboriginal themes - Mohawk Park, Eagle Place, the Grandwoodlands, etc. They became so normal that it was weird when you realized where the names came from.

5th Street stops. Then starts again. 3 blocks over.

My neighbourhood was a gold mine for kids to make a killing when: 1) collecting Halloween candy, 2) shovelling driveways in winter, 3) setting up lemonade stands. Why? We were surrounded by the elderly and the retired!!! There wasn't a kid to be seen for blocks!

The Man in the the Moon (my secret's out)

I remember watching a movie once when I was younger. The memories are still pretty vivid - it was a Saturday afternoon in the summer, I was sitting in the family hoping I wouldn't be asked to help with any of the gardening, I was sitting in my favorite chair.

It was a movie about a girl who had a crush on a boy. An older, cuter, neighbour boy. They go swimming. He works on a farm. Then she realizes he has a crush on her older sister when he helps with the groceries. Then there's an ending that really breaks your heart.

Of all the things I remember, I don't remember the name of the movie. I still think back to that day when I first saw it, how sad I was, how much I liked the characters, how much I didn't...

Then walking through Best Buy one afternoon, my eyes passed over the clearance rack. I saw a movie with a young Reese Witherspoon on the cover and I thought to myself, "Well she sure didn't have that gawky adolescent phase". As I slowly read and re-read the back cover, it dawned on me. This was the movie. The movie.

You know when there's a movie you love and you want the world to know you love it? For some reason, this one didn't. I was embarassed. What if people thougth I came in here looking for this movie? I quickly put it down and hurried out of the store like I stole something.

Random? Yes, I like to be a little random.

All the things I wish I'd said

To the guy who takes everything as a personal insult - I know you want the world to revolve around you but it doesn't, so get over it!

To the girl who thinks her world is coming to an end - Shut up! Far worse things have happened in much greater numbers to people whose lives were worse off to begin with. Complaining about it so much just makes you sound like a whiney brat.

To the guy who loves to tell others I'm not qualified for my job - I got it. You didn't. Deal with it.

To the girl who can't get her crap together - You're like black hole that sucks the energy out of the people around you, complaining about your workload, and the drama you hate, yet promote and how difficult even the tiniest things are. Please refer to earlier message to " girl who thinks her world is coming to an end".

To the girl who refuses to complain about anyone - I can respect what you're trying to do, it's just when you walk up to me with that look on your face and you half start a rant that you never finish, it leaves me more pissed off. Do me a favour, instead of coming up to me to say those things, pretend to have the conversation wtih yourself. Start it with yourself, end it with yourself.

To the girl who I insulted - You deserved it. You did. You deserved it for the years I sat by, ignoring the things you said about me behind my back. At least I got the satisfaction of seeing how you felt after hearing it.

OhmygodI'msoexcitedfortonight!!!!!!!!

How creepy is this picture?

For Roohi

http://blogthings.com/whatkindofcheesecakeareyouquiz/

Gimme a P, an R, an O...I'll finish the rest later...

I am plagued by proscrastination. (Self-induced of course, cause I'm too Type A to let anyone else force me to proscrastinate.)

I know that I have a briefing that needs to be done. I know it. But instead, I took a leisurely lunch with the girls and chatted about wedding plans. I frantically bid on (and lost) an auction for the Spice Girls "World Tour That Isn't Quite" tickets for my sister and her best friend. I tried to put myself into a sodium-induced-coma by eating too salty french fries, which didn't work. I took a nice long walk to the water cooler to drink water that tasted funny on my tongue (I think because of the high levels of sodium I just ingested). I went to the bathroom just to wash my hands. Twice. I applied lotion to my hands. Twice. I have decided to post on my blog. I'm only doing that once.

I just don't wanna write this briefing, even if is to get approval for a program that will help thousands of people get off welfare this year. Okay, well I do wanna get the approval. I just don't wanna be doing it now.

Update: I have also now peeled a clementine. If that doesn't seem like a big deal, it's cause you must not know that the smell of citrus on my skin makes me want to commit suicide. I guess this means another trip to wash my hands along with all that follows.

Another day like this...

Breathe in for luck,

breathe in so deep,

this air is blessed,

you share with me.

This night is wild,

so calm and dull,

these hearts they race,

from self control.

Your legs are smooth,

as they graze mine,

we're doing fine,

we're doing nothing at all.

My hopes are so high,

that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me,

so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst,

to break or bury,

or wear as jewelery,

which ever you prefer.

The words are hushed lets not get busted;

just lay entwined here, undiscovered.

Safe in here from all the stupid questions.

"hey did you get some?"

Man, that is so dumb.

Stay quiet, stay near, stay close they can't hear...

so we can get some.

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kiss me,

so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst,

to break or bury,

or wear as jewelery,

which ever you prefer.

Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember,

I'll always remember the sound of the stereo,

the dim of the soft lights,

the scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers

and the time on the clock when we realized it's so late

and this walk that we shared together.

The streets were wet

and the gate was locked so I jumped it,

and I let you in.

And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist

and you kissed me like you meant it.

And I knew that you meant it,

that you meant it,

that you meant it,

and I knew that you meant it,

that you meant it.

Workplace Etiquette

When you congratulate a co-worker on getting married, make sure they were married somewhere other than in the dream you had last night!!!!

It's a thing...

In a conversation with my fiancee, I had to use that phrase to explain my piont - It's a thing!

What was I explaining? Food. Well an idea of food at least. I have been ruminating on an idea for a while and I finally decide that this idea had best become a theory and part of that process involves letting people know the idea, so it can take hold as a theory. And what, exactly, is my theory on food, you ask? It's a thing...you'll know what I mean in time.

I believe that everyone (Martha Stewart included) has one food or meal or snack that they will eat, for the pure enjoyment of eating it, but will never, ever, offer it to anyone else. It's a food that they keep to themselves, not beacuse it's too good to share with anyone else. Because it's too embarassing to share with anyone else. There are just some things that you eat or the way you eat them that you can do privately, without anyone knowing and it makes it fun or enjoyable, but the idea of sharing that with someone else would be - well, could be - embarassing!

You just don't know how they would take it. Maybe they'd laugh at you, embarassing you for the choice of food you have secretly indulged for years. Maybe they'd make a face (much like the face I make when I see people eating tuna), again embarassing you for your excitement over the food. Maybe you just don't know how they'd take knowing that this is what you actually look forward to eating when you're alone - and the potential embarassment is enough to keep your mouth shut. But whether you share it with others or not, you know it's there.

My fiancee didn't quite understand what I was talking about. I had to resort to my tried and true phrase of, 'It's a thing!" - cause it is! It's a thing that people have and people do! To which he politely said, "Okay". He always was an accepting one.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to let the world, or at least the handful of my blog readers, know exactly what my "thing" food is. Sort of because it's linked to a elementary school incident where I ate a large quantity of one food and have never quite managed to live down the reputation (thank goodness no one I know now talks to my elementary school friends!). Maybe in time I"ll share it with others...maybe if others share their food with me. But know that even if you don't want to, you're not alone. It's a thing we all have.

Epiphany of late

I will not see Atonement. Not until I have read the book and formed my own judgment on it. Why? Not because Hollywood has this way of massacring lovely stories. Not because it wouldn't be nice to see James McAvoy with his lovely blue eyes on a large screen for a few hours. Why? Because Kiera Knightley has a way of turning everything she acts in to pooh!!!! That's right - POOH.

I don't dislike her per se. There's nothign tangible that I can connect to my dislike - except the way all stories she acts in are somehow butchered beyond recognition. But besides that, nothing really.

As an ode to my dislike of Kiera Knightley's ability to somehow have used lovely classical fiction as a means of establishing herself as a wannabe period actor, I will provide to you an e-mail on my sentiments after breaking down and finally watching Pride and Prejudice. Enjoy (or not).

(in an e-mail addressed to my best friend)

I have spent some time watching the Pride and Prejudice of 2005. As you so traitorously watched it with another companion, I feel I should, nay, MUST, share with you my thoughts....

First, did they even read the book? I think not. I think that when the time came to write this screenplay, they consulted the people of the falsely named King Arthur. Because if the movie could be another further away from the actual book, well, I would've probably had to shoot myself after watching it. They must have just coincidentally chosen the name Pride and Prejudice...yes, that's it.

BUT if in fact they did seek to make this movie based on the book, let me share a few "What the hell...!?!?!?!?!?!" moments:

WTH!?!?!?!?! #1: You know at the ball. The very first one. The one where Lizzie gets so artfully snubbed by Darcy. According to the niceties of the time, I think that would most adequately be the equivalent of, oh, a rave!!! Seriously, all the jumping and clapping they may as well have been on drugs.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #2: Bingley. What was that about??? Bingley's character was supposed to be a gentleman. Gentle-man. Let me bring to mind some other gentlemen, so that we may appropriately have examples with which to base our judge of this character. Atticus Finch. Lon from the Notebook. Ashleigh from Gone with the Wind. Tim Cruise circa Penelope Cruise. Bingley was no gentleman. What Bingley was - was like a flighty teenage girl. Hair dyed an unnatural colour, with too much hair product. Hell, his body even resembled a teenage girl's! And the - THEN - when he practices how to propose to Jane. Oh my god, reminiscent of when junior high school girls walk up to their crushes outside the gym after school and ask them to the dance. I swear, the movie would've just been better without him. And that's saying a lot. Like the movie could get better. Rubbish that it was.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #3: Pemberly - It flipping looked like a museum. First, we went to the painting room. Then we went to the naked sculpture room. The bust of Darcy? Talk about asexual, you could barely tell if it was male or female. And Lizzie peeks into Georgiana's room. Did they even research what houses we like back then? And what is she suddenly - a voyuer? At that moment I was worried the movie took a turn for the 18A rated.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #4: Mr Bennet - his teeth were too white for his age. And he looked like what I imagine Christopher Columbus to look ike first thign in the morning during his old age. At the end of the movie where he says, I could not part with you Lizzie blah blah blah, why keep that? When you take out all the other stuff, why keep that? The entire attachment between them was nonexistent. He was like an absent father. He should've been paying alimony.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #5: You knew this was coming - Elizabeth. Elizabeth was supposed to capture all of the polished refinement of the era and yet, yet still break the mould with her wit, her ability to laugh off the frivolties of daily life, to satirically comment on those around her, to embody grace and poise, but keep a childish innocence and openness. She did not shirk the rules or break the rules, but she played within the rules better than anyone else. Oh right, that was only in the book. No no, in the movie, Elizabeth was pretty much bipolar. A subdued bipolar. She either cried or laughed. But always in quick succession. And never very much. The girl spent all 3 hours in the verge of a nervous breakdown! I'm not saying this out of my bias for Keira, the girl could kill me with any number of swords. But please...I mean, there's a reason why this character is admired by women all over, throughout time. that she's cool cause she's living through all the crap women go through but she comes out unscathed. This lizzie practically cried all the time and before anything even happened to her. her and Bingley. They could be BFF. For each others birthday they should buy each other pink diaries with locks!

WTH!?!?!?!?! #6: I'm saddned to say, Darcy. So much went wrong here. Darcy should have commanded the scenes. Darcy with his pride, his looks, his intellignce. You hated him but at the same time he never really gave you reason to hate him. He was not handsome. He was not charming. He was not proud. He was not mysterious. He was not logical beyond reason. He didn't have that strange inability to be witty. He didn't fight against anything. He meekly accepted the nothing he was given in the movie. He did not deliver his lines with any sort of conviction. I swear he was mumbling. He was not in love with lizzie. He looked more in love with his sister!!! he looked like he was forced to be in the movie against his will! I can't love him, not like this. We can't be happy together, we won't be happy! !

Don't even get me started on King Arthur.

My Rant: Imposing cell phone etiquette

I don't understand this need for constant communication with other people. Over the past couple of days, the same people have repeatedly complained about my cell phone "habits" (I guess you would call them). Though I don't think they're my habits, so much as they are my personality.

Who made it a law that if you ever receive any form of communication (call, text, voicemail) on your cell phone, you are morally obligated to return it immediately, punishable with the threat of hours of nonsensical complaining?

Here's the situation: Sometimes, I'm in meetings. During the days, my cell is on silent and I forget to put it on vibrate. Other times, I am on the phone when you send me a text. I sleep as well. Why do you feel that because I own a cell phone that none of these things are valid reasons for me NOT answering you!?!?!?!!?

My personality is such that I don't mind not seeing my friends or speaking to friends on a daily basis. Every couple of days, weeks, in some cases months is enough. I will check and in when i check in, we catch up on each other's lives, enjoy a chat, share some funny stories. I do not need to know how many times they brushed their hair, what their garbage can smells like or the last time they did their laundry. But hey - that's just me.

What's wrong with talking to people when you need to? I am the first to admit that I'm not the role model to have when it comes to keeping in touch with people, but I make my efforts and I'm honest about it. BUT if I know I am going to see you everyday, for a good chunk of time, I don't need to also be in constant communication with you over text messages.

Now I'm getting complaints from people (well one person started it, complained to others, now they're complaining to me about it) that I don't reply ever. It's like if I don't have the same habits of being glued to my phone as they do, then I'm rude.

I feel like if it's really necessary to speak to me, uregntly, about something, give me a call at work. Otherwise, it can wait. I try to keep updated on the calls, the voicemails and the texts I receive, but if you're flooding my inbox with useless stuff when I'm at work, out with other people, running errands or carrying grocery bags, then have the courtesy to wait for a response when it's convenient.

Having a cell phone does not mean that you must be at the beck and call of the people who have your contact information. It means that it is easier to get in contact with a person. The rules that apply for a landline shoudl apply for a cell phone - and if you tell me that you have caller ID and have never avoided a call then you must be Martha Stewart like and it's kinda creepy.

Even after all this, it hasn't changed anything. That person will continue telling people that I selfishly use other people, people will still complain to me, I will have to choose whether to give in to them or tell them off, but for now, I just say screw it.

Best lines from the last 24 hours...

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If clean had a taste, it would be Evian!

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But real life is what's we're trying to escape in our Kelly Clarkson songs.

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Asking nicely doesn't get you more fries at the drive-thru.

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