una lista nueva
mail me, dude!
please sign my book!
it could save the world
the past is best
i love you, pitas!
hellllooooo, little people!|
Friday, February 2, 2001 @ 09:47 p.m.
two media morsels for your betterment:
i laughed out loud. Read the caption.
Survivor is such a weird show. It at once morally disgusts and totally fascinated me-- like an ethical car accident. It has the makings of a great human story, presented in the most contrived and tacky way possible. I know I COULD do homework-- but I'd rather watch teammates turn against each other, manipulate each other, stage coups and be duped, form alliances and break promises-- oh, and eat bugs. that was cool!
I can't help but picture myself on this show, and which persona I would acquire. I think that's what makes Survivor so phenomenally popular: it's so basic. All of us can imagine ourselves in basically similar situations, because it's encoded in us. Even I, who hate camping AND TV, can picture myself doing something like that-- the thrill of deprivation from, and the quest for, life's most basic elements-- combined with the very human politics of acceptance, friendship, dependence and rivalry. It's encoded in me. It's encoded in EVERYONE.
Work: he's got
(a) an "Alberta Justice" crested fleece jacket and
Also, the royal canadian mint website is a nightmare, and I didn't find what i was looking for: the new $10 bill. I saw one today-- they look vaguely European.
In Canada, the government changes the appearance of the paper money every 10 years or so to foil counterfeiters (or they just replace the bill with a coin, bless them). Do they do this in the US?
Oh, never mind. Bank of Canada. Damn you crown corporations! Okay, I'm ready now... here it is.
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apparently, those harmless-looking little styrofoam noodle bowls that you just have to add water to for a nutritious, delicious meal-on-the-go contain 13 grams of fat. Where does it come from? Does the freeze-drying process add extra grams of fat to corn and pepper flakes? I'm really freaked out now.
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well, i didn't win my coveted bloggie. (bloggy? does anyone sense a little pluralization problem?) the winner in the pitas category was openlog. I will be bitterly angry for about three seconds, then get over it.
Okay, well, that was fun.
Besides, how can you hate openlog? I mean, openlog isn't even one person. It's just an entity, both without identity and with a million identities. I don't think you can really depise an entity. I mean, who would you send the flame mail to?
I just realized that since all my crosswinds pages are now deceased, there was a total absence of any personal information about me on this page for the uninitiated. So, click on the link in the top left column for 31 true facts about me.
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the one where i pin my hair up in two princess leia buns and sing along with paul anka
"here is a lexical item, selected specially for you on this mopy grey day:
To my anonymous visitor: I think you search for Billie Bragg lyrics. (And then she cut her hair and I stopped loving her comes from the song "Walk Away Renee")
"My choice early in life was to be either a piano-player in a whorehouse or a politician. And to tell you the truth, there's hardly any difference." -Harry S Truman
This pretty much sums up how I feel my hair defines my identity:
"Never shall a young man
What does "Hentai" mean?
Well. Never mind then.
Are you a lover or a loner?
Lastly, I am so jealous of the former Dire Straits lead singer who got a dinosaur named after him: Masiakasaurus Knopfleri. University of Utah researchers said they named it after him after listening to "Brothers In Arms" while excavating under the hot Madagascar sun. Knopfler responded by saying, "I'm really delighted. The fact that it's a dinosaur is certainly apt, but I'm happy to report that I'm not in the least vicious."
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but you will never be lonely again
"you're always trying to win my approbation by using big words." -me
You know, at first I wanted to talk to you, but now I'd rather not. I think I'll take my dog for a walk, and hop in the shower, and watch a movie, and read my history book-- all the things you can do alone without seeming conspicuous. I just wanted you to know that you have done this to me, and I want you to accept the blame.
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an exercise in futility
well, hello, friends.
the other day in spanish class, our prof-- not our normal barry-like prof but our visiting prof-- was going over the chapter in "giving and udnerstanding directions" in spanish, and he told us that it's the hardest thing, like, ever: "an exercise in futility".
and it occurs to me that today may be an exercise in futility, as well. i slept until 10.30 this morning, played sims for wayyyyyy too long, and changed mr. mixxx's aquarium water. i also talked to angie on the phone and ate pizza. yup, that was it. i feel like such a huge loser.
i hate these days. i'm really lonely.
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i'm trying not to crush you but i want to crush you
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the one where i realize that barry the pharmacist and my spanish prof are actually the same person
...i mean, i've never seen them both in the same place at the same time, and they both have this way of addressing other people that suggests they haven't heard a word you've said.
the latest entry in mary chen's top secret diary is both funny and sweet.
I have formed a new Retail Theorem. (A theorem, not a theory, damn you!) It is thus: a lot of irate customers just need a Face to yell at. In my case, people need a Canada Post Face who will absorb all their Canada Post Grief, and whether this face has anything to do with the matter at hand matters naught at all. To avoid this Face being me all the time, I think we should buy an old dressmaker's dummy, clothe it in a mailman uniform, and station it outside my store. Then people could sort of take out their aggression on it, yell and punch and do their angry bit, and then by the time they reach me they'll be subdued and civil. Just an idea. Replace the face!
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the one where i grovel shamelessly
okay. you guys know me, right? you know me and you respect me and think i'm totally fabulous and some of you enjoy my company on nights where we go out and drink margaritas and act silly. you respect that i am a serious artistic creative type person, with a lot of great qualities and a lot to offer the world. well, let me tell you something. it's coming to a point now where i can't afford to ride the bus to school anymore, let alone buy margaritas, because i am broke with a capital K, i am sin dinero, i am destitute and buspass-less and i am at my wit's end. i could use either (a) financial advice or (2) generous contributions to the Jocelyn Fund, and you think i'm kidding. This is a solicitation. Without the help of humble people like you I can't continue to live this fabulous Jocelyny lifestyle-- I will have to lick stamps forever. I'm so depressed.
I actually AM depressed. I got paid on Friday, and it's now Sunday, and somehow I am left with insufficient funds to buy the things i actually need money for. Where does my money go? WHERE DOES IT GO?
I suck. I'm so depressed.
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