are you born yet?
Friday, July 26, 2002 @ 12:32 p.m.
You are jealous of me because I am eating a milkshake made with fresh raspberries from my garden. It's OK, I forgive you. I know you can't help it.
i spent the bus ride home yesterday (after my english 283 presentation) drawing Nike swooshes with sarcastic new slogans underneath, like "Why Bother?" and "Made for kids by kids," until I got a dirty look from a guy sitting two seats away from me in little white nike socks. With little swooshes. My God.
Then I tried to squeeze my huge slushee cup to make it more liquidy, but instead I broke it, and I spent the rest of the bus ride trying not to spill sticky slushee-juice on myself. So I guess we know who the real cool person is, and it's not me. It's Swoosh Socks Guy.
This design reminds me of all the times I didn't take LSD.
Is everybody HAPPY?
Wednesday, July 24, 2002 @ 10:17 a.m.
Via cheesedip: true porn clerk stories. I think I'll stick with the editing and the babysitting, as far as McJobs are concerned.
Dammit, if RuPaul can have a successful weblog, then so can I.
the one where i beg for your assistance
Tuesday, July 23, 2002 @ 06:18 p.m.
Does anyone know where I could find actual copies of any of the following ads:
Gap "James Dean Wore Khakis" ad (print)
the William S. Burroughs/Nike ad (print)
The Nike "I am not a target market" ad (TV)
The Sprite "Image is nothing" ads (TV/print)
I know everyone always posts questions like this on their website asking for some kind of audience participation, and readers always go, "oh, they don't mean me," but I mean you. YOU! You must know! And I need help! So for God's sake, email me! (It's for school. You don't want me to get more 7s, do you?)
where it began, i can't begin to know
Tuesday, July 23, 2002 @ 09:48 a.m.
Over the weekend, I read an article in the newspaper about a British doctor who killed some 250 of his patients over many years. He would administer morphine overdoses to elderly patients and then say they died of natural causes. The only reason he got caught was that he did a bad job of forging a patient's will, so that she left all her money to him. The will was full of typing errors, the signature didn't match, and he typed it on his own typewriter. Police psychologists thought he did it deliberately because on some level he wanted to stop killing people. Imagine that-- not being able to stop yourself, having to compel someone else to do it. Sometimes you find the strangest things in the news.
On a completely unrelated note:
i'm gonna take you out in the street
and whoop your ass for all it's worth
$5.99 or something like that -Jill Scott
So, on Saturday I made my long-planned trip to St. Paul, AB., to see the Alien Landing Pad constructed in 1967 for the anniversary of Canadian Confederation. The landing pad was actually less cool than other sights seen:
an abandoned train CN train car that had been converted into A LUXURY HOME ON WHEELS (only it was in terrible shape)
Our Lady of the Highway shrine outside Vegreville
BIG EGG (a la Magic Schoolbus)
giant mushrooms (Vilna-- I guess all the non-hallucenogenic vegetables were already taken)
World's Largest Perogy (Perogy Drive in Glendon, right across from the Perogy Motel)
Giant kielbasa sausage in Mundare-- a little town with big sausage heart
It was great. My companions on this trip, Meghan and James, are wonderfully tolerant of my whims. Thanks guys!
my heart will break before i cry
Friday, July 19, 2002 @ 12:57 p.m.
This seems to be right up my alley: it's a card game where you make the cards yourself. (Initially heard about through little yellow different) Here is a general introduction to the game, and here are some sample cards.
What say yous? Anyone want to come over for a game and possibly some delicious snacks? (This could also be a solution to my "drinking" problem-- ie., that I'm alone.) Come on, email me! Do it! We're such interesting, creative people!
drinking alone for fun and profit
Friday, July 19, 2002 @ 12:35 p.m.
I like that they might be giants song about the sun being a ball of incandescent gas. It's not every day you can find a band that entertains and informs in one fell swoop.
What does that mean anyway-- "one fell swoop"?
I really am drinking alone, and it's neither fun nor profitable. I have some sangria and then a shower, and then sangria and then a shower. I only made it because my parents went to Europe and left behind half a bottle of red wine.
I originally wrote, "half a bottle of red whine." My father and I have a plan to launch our own magazine for wine drinkers. It would be called "Wine Dictator" and all of our wine reviews would consist of juxtapositions of seemingly opposite terms: "woody yet fruity," "gentle but fierce," and "subtle yet persuasive."
Initially, the tagline read merely, "No longer funded by the National Endowment for the Arts," but it didn't seem "edgy" enough, and everyone knows that adding some derivative of the word "fuck" lends edginess to any project. We've been talking a bit about the NEA in my English class and that was my inspiration. It wouldn't be the NEA that funded my website, though, would it? For two reasons (1) not worthy of funding (and for that matter what would I use it for? Just more booze) and (2) It's the Canada Council. In Canada. You know?
We should change our name to "Cnaada," I'm thinking. It's just a switching of two letters, but it seems edgier. Or better yet, "Cnaada, fuckers."
From the review of Windtalkers: Did You Know?: That the movie is only forty-eight minutes long, but it runs over two hours because the entire thing is in slow motion?
Due to the recent heat-wave in our fair city, they shaved all the alpacas at the zoo. Except for the tops of their heads. And they looked like the Beatles. I saw it on the news.
una copa de gracias, y arriba arriba
Tuesday, July 16, 2002 @ 12:03 a.m.
miscellaneous notes on the future
if and when I get married, I've made three important wedding-related-decisions: 1. I am going to play the U2 song "one" as the first song at the reception, because it is such a great great song; 2. I am not going to wear a big flouffy wedding dress, a train, or a veil (although there might be flowers) 3. I will print on the invitation that no one has to wear pantyhose unless they want to. Pantyhose is anti-feminist. Well, OK, it isn't really, but I still hate it.
I am going to buy a proper house, with a yard with trees big enough to build a treehouse. Then I am going to build a treehouse, and it is going to have at least one cool Swiss Family Robinson-esque detail (ie., thatched palm-branch roof, elevator for transporting girlie drinks up and down, or skylight that opens with a complicated series of knobs and levers).
I am going to make risotto with seafood in it, and invite all my friends over. This is a slightly more attainable goal than the first two, so I might do it soon.
I am going to rent that movie THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE from the movie store, even if no one will watch it with me. (Also: I will learn to recognize that doing things alone does not necessarily constitute social failure)
I'm going to get a 9 in some fucking class, even if it's something really lame like Violent Weather or Latin American Studies.
I'M GOING TO GO SHOPPING AT OLD NAVY AND SPEND EXORBITANT AMOUNTS OF MONEY, DAMMIT!
I might add more updates to this site again, at some point in the future. I mean, it's not guaranteed, but it's pretty likely.
And I thought I was a person with no ambitions or long-term goals. Phht.
Why am I doing this? Because I don't want to sleep, but there doesn't seem to be anyone else, you know... awake.
estoy loca enamorada de ti
Monday, July 15, 2002 @ 08:26 p.m.
Now featuring Jennifer Lopez lyrics-- IN SPANISH!
I downloaded this awesome bright orange skin for my winamp player, and I bought a brown cowboy-ish hat, and I am getting my own shower, thus increasing the likelihood that my bath products will take over the entire universe.
Hmmm. I can't really think of anything to say.
i'm having a good summer. Are you?
the worst thing a suburban girl could imagine
Friday, July 12, 2002 @ 12:23 a.m.
One thing that would be really nice to have, but would cost quite a bit of money (not, you know, a LOT, but quite a bit) would be a private taxi company. Any time you wanted to leave a glamourous party in style, you could summon one of your private taxis and be driven home (or wherever) in absolute discretion and style. What would make this even better as a statement of refinement would be if all the taxi drivers were second-tier celebrities, the people who make one big movie opposite someone really famous and then kind of... fade into oblivion. They would wear ridiculous hats and silly stripper outfits and... there would be a little cooking stove in the back of all the taxis, with a mini IKEA frying pan. So if you're hungry post-bash, you can make an omelette. With mushrooms.
This seems like the fantasy of a girl who really hates to drive.
I watched BIG BROTHER III last night and it's really bizarre. I think if you were a serial killer looking to get a lot of publicity, you could become a contestant on a reality show (especially SURVIVOR) and then kill off the other contestants one by one. Because of all the publicity, you'd probably have a better chance of getting away with it, too. Because undoubtedly some talk-show host would take up your cause based on the lack of love you received as a child and your fear of "letting other people in."
Then the world could watch you reinvent yourself as an actress-model or product spokesperson. I think morally our society is pretty much at a point where this could happen. Is celebrity a greater good than evil is evil?
I'm tired, but I can't sleep. It's much too hot. Edmonton is not Texas or Florida or something... air conditioning is not part of our ideology. (And I feel justified using that term now, given that I've read Althusser's take on it, that commie nutbar.)
And that, of course, is all.
you know how some people hate to say "I told you so"? Not me. I told you so.
Monday, July 8, 2002 @ 11:00 p.m.
Has anyone else noticed that The Hives' "Hate to say I told you so" and that Blur song are actually THE EXACT SAME SONG?!? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!
Proposition: all English-speaking children are born knowing the words to the chorus of "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow. Discuss.
PETER FRAMPTON! (This would be the answer to the above question)
why do birds suddenly appear/every time you are near?
Saturday, July 6, 2002 @ 09:22 a.m.
Because you have bread crumbs in your hair and the back of your coat is covered with sesame seeds. I've been meaning to talk to you about it.
I watched Sailor Moon yesterday for the first time and it's pretty fucked-up, as kids' shows go. They really ARE naked when they transform (Sailor Bum!) and they possess inexplicable mystical powers. Half the time I didn't know what was going on.
I realized yesterday that I miss Save on Foods' edgy print ad campaign which featured sexual innuendo and veiled insults of other grocery chains. It also had a distinctive font which I always think of now as "the save on foods font". I actually used to read grocery advertisements, for awhile.
uno dos tres quatro cinqo cinqo seis
Thursday, July 4, 2002 @ 10:40 a.m.
When I wake up singing Carpenters songs that have somehow entered my subconscious in my sleep, then I KNOW it is going to be a good day.
On Tuesday night we went to some friends' house for a BBQ. The guy who was doing the barbequing of the steak is a vegetarian. He told me to record in my journal: "Tonight I had a steak that was cooked PERFECTLY." So, there you go.
Yesterday I finished reading LOLITA, which is the amazing book everyone says it is. Vladimir Nabokov, from the afterword:
My private tragedy, which cannot, and indeed should not, by anybody's concern, is that I had to abandon m natural idiom, my untrammeled, rich, and infinitely docile Russian tongue for a second-rate brand of English, devoid of any of those apparatuses-- the baffling mirror, the black velvet backdrop, the implied associations and traditions-- which the native illusionist, frac-tails flying, can magically use to transcend the heritage in his own way.
Isn't that beautiful? I originally assumed that Nabokov had written the book in Russian, but as I read more of it I began to realize how impossible that was. No one could have translated a book in another language into the English of Lolita-- it's too self-conscious and intentional, and too lovely.
This edition which I have has an introduction by Martin Amis, and reading it inspired me to read Time's Arrow, which has been sitting on my shelf for MONTHS. It's backwards, though, that's the thing. I am going to need lots of energy, I should think, to read any more Amis.
I'm making a tape for Meghan, and it is the best EVER!
And: JONATHAN RICHMAN IS A ROCK GOD!
how to marry a millionnaire
Wednesday, July 3, 2002 @ 09:33 a.m.
Peruse obituaries for new widowers. Phone their offices and pretend to be selling something. Harrass them until they meet you for dinner.
Hang out at country clubs, high-end grocery stores, expensive martini bars, and the opera.
Rear-end men driving expensive cars.
"How do you know if someone is really rich or just pretending to be?" "Cufflinks?"
I went to Saskatoon for the weekend. My mom and I ate cherries and spat the pits out the sunroof of the car. Canada Day was fun. Stuff found on the ground during Canada day:
A straw hat, with a ribbon tied around it
A cellphone, with the back missing
A soggy cushion
A huge iron rod
A partial bird skeleton
A sticker showing the Canadian flag, but with a marijuana leaf instead of the maple leaf