it means everything that has been erased

Too cute.
Other girls jealous.
fun! free! nutritious!
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email: jocelynb at shaw dot ca

This is not my beautiful semi-disposable Scandanavian furniture
Wednesday, June 26, 2002 @ 10:44 p.m.

Did you know that they are making a CROCODILE HUNTER MOVIE, and it is going to be released in LESS THAN THREE WEEKS, with virtually NO PUBLICITY? CAN YOU IMAGINE?!?

I know.

In other news, all your base are belong to us won a webby award, in spite of the fact that that has been a running internet joke for, like, a kajillion years. The universe makes NO SENSE.

In other recent news: I bought a slushee the size of my head; I went to see WINDTALKERS, which is the worst movie ever (if I get inspired, I'll write a top-5 list of reasons why); and I half-answered the following question:

What have you done for humanity lately?

The answer: well, I'm working on a finger-puppet play, which is embarrassing at best. But given that the past few years have witnessed a huge decline in any effort involving creativity and more then ten minutes on my part, I think it's worth mentioning. And you are invited to the performance! Yes, you! And it will not be about modern walrus's existential search for... kool-aid. (All together now: I WANT SOME KOOLAID!)

I think I might be dehydrated. Or sunstruck. (Sunstroked?) Either way, I'm talking crazy-talk.

hock-copters, train rides, watermelon, and more roosters from outer space
Tuesday, June 25, 2002 @ 06:47 p.m.

I saw two really cool caterpillars today. One was red and black (a Darth Sirius-pillar) and one was glimmering green and royal blue. One was on the sidewalk and the other was on the street. I imagine they are both dead, by now.

So, apparently a young Swiss man is coming to live with us. I'm sure my sister will fall in love with him. They can speak French to each other, and join the army.

Rock stars have kidnapped my son.

just call me angel, of the morning/just touch my feet before you leave me, baby
Monday, June 24, 2002 @ 10:44 p.m.

Things you can buy in Edmonton:

  • little plastic fruits full of flavoured sugar
  • barettes with fake feathers on them (at last I assume they're fake)
  • pink thong sandals ($3)
  • bright orange imitation '30s-style glassware (actually plastic, "imitation glass") from Zellers for 97 cents
  • blank tapes and 200 ISO film
  • little purple glass beads to be used for making the sorts of jewellery I loved as a little girl
  • tickets to things
  • New car batteries
  • OXO cubes (for making chicken bouillon cubes, when making risotto)
  • cookies. Also: coffee
  • electrical tape ($1)
  • inappropriately coloured underwear
  • Burt's Bees lipbalm which is really the best lipbalm, ever
  • new black sheets (also from Zellers; black sheets makes me think of some kind of 80s heartthrob with a modern apartment and koi)
  • clear Gatorade (OK)

we have to find out right now, what kind of flavour do these martians like?
Tuesday, June 18, 2002 @ 10:01 p.m.

Money is a liquid commodity. Instead of thinking about it as money, think of it in terms of time or entertainment ($20 = two movies, or five drinks, or two sets of SeaMonkeys, or one roasted chicken from Safeway with several salads, or about 200 little plastic fruit containers filled with flavoured sugar).

I have trouble with money, and not just because I buy little plastic containers filled with flavoured sugar. Right now I have $1,232.00 in mutual funds. Every month I put more money into this investment, and every month is loses money. I should put it in GICs, or in a ziploc bag in my underwear drawer. The economy can kiss my ass, and no, I don't think buying more shit is necessarily the answer.

Anyway: I decided today to use this money to buy a house. If I keep putting money in at my current rate, I could pay cash for a house by the time I'm 35. That will be a relief, as I'm sure I'll still be living with my parents.

I have no idea why I am telling you this, so don't ask.

do you get high from his eyes?
Monday, June 17, 2002 @ 03:36 p.m.

Apparently I'm going to be reading Michael Moore's "Stupid White Men" for my pop lit class next semester (ie, in July). Has anyone read it? Is it any good?

Buy one link, get one free
Saturday, June 15, 2002 @ 09:43 a.m.

The World Rock Paper Scissors Society. Advocating the traditional Rock/paper/Scissors round as a good way to solve disputes.

Create a South Park version of yourself [uses flash]

South Park Joce looks pretty stressed. But if I were on South Park I probably would be stressed... cause, you know... I'm Canadian.

And, last: from the "It's funny because it's so true" file, "Thousands of High-School Couples Prepare for Post-Graduation Breakup" (from The Onion).

I don't know why
Saturday, June 15, 2002 @ 09:05 a.m.

Until recently, OpenCola was the only soft drink that didn't keep its recipe a secret: it was open-source, and anyone could make it themselves on the condition that they made any changes to the recipe public. The cola itself was just a promotional tool for the software company, and it's not available anymore, presumably because the cola was overshadowing the software.

This made me think: if you really think about it, haven't prepared foods always been, like, the original open-source products? I mean, before we even had a concept of open source people were swapping recipes with no thought at all to copyright or intellectual property.

Before it was taken off the market, the stuff was available on thinkgeek, official purveyors of all that is good in the universe.

The search engine itself (also called opencola-- it's out in beta) sounds neat: it searches shared folders of other users as well as the web for relevant information. IS PEER TO PEER THE FUTURE OF ONLINE SEARCHING? AND THE RELATED SUBQUESTION-- DOES ANYONE REALLY CARE?

In related news: apparently Canadians are spending less and less time online. I'm not surprised given the difficulty of finding relevant information, and the increasing number of annoying ads and scams. Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's summer outside.

But this is all you need.

Unrelated quotation of the day: "In the present circumstances, I'd say that the only thing worth globalizing is dissent." -Arundhati Roy

Am I the last girl on earth?
Wednesday, June 12, 2002 @ 03:02 p.m.

Oh: weird: pretty-subversive communication theorist Marshall McLuhan is now one of those little Canadian History moments on TV. Isn't that weird?

and I do tricks
Wednesday, June 12, 2002 @ 02:41 p.m.

"Names given must be socially acceptable, i.e., named such as Stinky, Slimy, Sneaky, etc., will not be allowed as your sensitive pets might be offended. Give them nice 'Sunday School' names. Suggestions: Scamper, Moby Dick, Davy Jones, Barry Cuda, Barry Goldwater, Sharkey, Agamemnon, Puddles, Finn, Peppy, Flippy, etc.

This policy is NOT VALID in the event of death due to the following causes: Chain lightning; chain smoking; earthwuake; tidal wave; permanent wave; meteoric showers; april showers; invasion of earth by space monsters; mongol, etruscan or viking plunder and conquest OR (especially) accidentally-knocked-over container of water all over the good-living-room-carpet!"

Thus reads my Sea Monkey life insurance policy. My Sea Monkeys are not all completely dead, however. There are at least two remaining because I saw them today. One of them will be named Bruce, the other Fishy McNasty. And if I find a third one I'm naming it Barry Goldwater, who was an American politician and possibly still is (this knowledge comes from a very outdated computer Jeopardy game-- I've gotten the question so many times I remember-- so I have no idea whether it is still accurate. This is one of the risks associated with trivia games as a source of knowledge.)

I've been looking after other peoples' children. The house where I am staying has three cats, and we are very unforgiving toward each other. Every time them come near me, they purr seductively, and I whisper, "fuck off." I think they're getting the picture, though. They've mostly stopped approaching me.

Lest I be accused of animal cruely, though, I gave them some water last night because they were meowing in a way that suggested they were all out. I really want to come and live back here, at my house.

My credit card is not maxed out, because I am a financial planning genius. I also wish I could see some friends I haven't seen for awhile, but unfortunately I'm too busy this week.

Is it just me, or is "Lizst" the best name EVER for a composer?

"Want to see me feed a mouse to my pet snake?"

Sunday, June 9, 2002 @ 05:52 p.m.

Hey, everyone.

Well, I've been pretty sick the last 24 hours or so (a particularly malignant flu), and my computer was out of commission as well for about 24 hours after it puzzled us with a queer burning smell and some fried circuitry, apparently.

Anyway, I'll be back at some point. In the meantime, uh, don't forget to pillage BEFORE you burn.

now featuring strippers, Hollywood starlets, Scandanavian pop stars, and me
Thursday, June 6, 2002 @ 05:26 p.m.

Has anyone else noticed that "Nick Cave" and "Nice Cave" are only one letter apart? Does that seem weird to anyone else?

We went to see Undercover Brother and even though I hate myself for saying it, it's really funny. "Everyone living and working and dancing together... it's like the people who make Saturns!"

Where's their financial advisor?
Wednesday, June 5, 2002 @ 08:03 p.m.

In place of actual content, I am just going to urge you to download this MP3: Jonathan Richman's Here Come The Martian Martians. Why? Because it is fucking awesome, and I say so. Also because it's currently taking up about 1/3 of my webspace on shaw. Luckily my website has no other multimedia content, otherwise I would really be in trouble!

Oh: all my Sea-Monkeys are named "Bruce," except one of them is "Fishy McNasty." The other sea-monkeys say to him, "Mind if we call you Bruce?"

sweet little scar,/sweet little flame
Sunday, June 2, 2002 @ 10:39 p.m.

I'm so bored. I start my semi-real, every-day job tomorrow. Am I happy about this? No. In the words of Homer Simpson: "I can't steal money. I can't print my own money. I have to WORK for money." Or as my dad would say: "Work, the plague of the drinking class." Unfortunately, I have to keep working if I want to keep drinking (and eating nachos, and buying books, and all the other silly things I spend my nonexistent money on.) Anyway, it's going to involve crying, getting up early, and feeling bad about myself, three things I hate the most. But I will do it because I am capitalism's butt-monkey, and also, because my listlessness is getting out of hand.

When my dad and I are driving anywhere together, we always psychoanalyze other drivers. Usually, if they cut us off or do something unusually stupid, we accuse them of having "issues."

I started my sea monkeys today, and I made grape popsicles. At the moment, I'm pretty upset because I ran out of Vitamin E. I miss certain friends, people I haven't seen for awhile, although some friends I have seen recently indeed.

The title of this site is now, temporarily, "Mission to Mazatlan," in honour of an awesome surf rock band, Los Mel-Tones. It has nothing to do with me going to Mazatlan, Mexico, although I admit that would be nice and welcome lewd offers from eccentric billionnaires with houseboats in the area.

I'm pretty bored of this website. Do you think anyone knows?

Wednesday, May 29, 2002 @ 09:16 p.m.

Oh, man. Not only am I a music-pirating genius, but I am a non-CD-burner-having, stereo-hooked-up-to-my-computer-to-record-to-a-tape music-pirating genius.

Oh, man.

Cruel to be kind
Wednesday, May 29, 2002 @ 04:41 p.m.

To whoever keeps sending me those stupid crush emails, where you send an anonymous one to someone, and then they have to guess who it was: stop it. Fucking stop it, please. I get them all the time and I never find out who my crush is but I refuse to guess because I know all my friends will hate it as much as I do and I really have a crush on James and not you and I hate getting those emails. So just fuck off.

If you really have a crush on me, then just email me and tell me, and I will not mock you. If you're my friend and you sent it to me as a joke, never do it again. If you're my arch-nemesis, and you keep sending them to me to drive me slowly insane, then congratulations. You've succeeded. And I challenge you to a fight in the quad tomorrow after school, you bastard.

I heard a funny song on CJSR this morning by, I think, PDQ Bach. It was a Beethoven symphony with hocket-night-in-Canada style running commentary. "Oh no! It's the oboe again! He thinks this is an oboe cantata!"

Haha. No, seriously, haha.

Also, from the Television Without Pity recap of the Buffy season finale: "In other news, Willow erects a phallic temple to Santa."

Mmm... Santa.

I'm writing today, for the textbook project that provides my pitifully small amount of monthly income. Wri-ting. And it's bor-ing.

we're the working title,
for a really long book

Monday, May 27, 2002 @ 07:45 p.m.

We drank about a third of a bottle of bad red wine before deciding to make the rest into our own special sangria, with sprite and whatever juice was in the fridge. It wasn't bad. I've just finished drinking the last of it.

I've been eating a lot of pizza for breakfast and sitting outside re-reading the Harry Potter books, mostly.

At some point in the future I will become interesting again, and then I will post things. At least, probably. In the meantime rest assured and we are all OK, especially the kids, and probably the best thing you can do is eat your veggies.

Seriously. My dad is going to live forever. Vegetables are the key-- and sangria.

postcards from the edge
Thursday, May 23, 2002 @ 10:40 p.m.

I went with my dad out to his school in Sherwood Park tonight for a performance of the school play. On the way there I noticed that all the houses in these new developments in Sherwood Park look like the houses my more affluent Sims live in: they look like they should be huge old country estates, but they're on proportionally tiny lots with lame, planted-five-weeks-ago landscaping. I don't understand putting up that much money to end up with a house that looks pretentious and out of place.

I'll bet there's no weather there.

Supposedly an internet-based version of The Sims is coming out in the next year, allowing you to interact with characers controlled by other players in realtime. Needless to say, there goes what's left of my life outside my computer.