banjeroo

dreams in the age of publicity

2009-04-12T14:14:00.003-05:00

I dreamed that I had accidentally gotten on the wrong bus, a school bus instead of a city bus, and that all the passengers were Ojibway. It turns out they were heading out to a field just outside town, where they were going to have a healing circle (I don't even know if this is a done thing or where my brain got this from. The details were vague.)

When we got to the field, we all piled off the bus and I tried to explain that I'd ended up there by accident, but nobody minded, and they invited me to join in. I politely declined, and it became clear that I had to just wait for them to be done so I could take the bus back with them.

However, I urgently needed to pee.

There were some buildings behind the field, tall brown brick, and as there was no activity around them I assumed they were abandoned. There's gotta be a good spot to pee over there, I thought.

As I approached the side of one, I realized that I could see in through the windows, and discovered that they were retirement homes, full of white-haired people in flowered armchairs watching television. It did not occur to me that I might walk in the lobby and ask to use a toilet. Instead, I tried to find a spot outside where I could pee where I would not be visible to any of the residents.

I found such a spot, I pulled down my pants and emptied my bladder.

Then I heard a laugh and looked to my right. Crouched very nearby, there was a young guy, maybe 20, wearing a ballcap, with an easy grin on his face.

Alarmed, I pulled up my pants fast and he said "No no, don't worry. That was cool!"

I smiled politely, and said, "Uh, thanks... I'm going to go."

"So cool," he said, "That I'm totally posting that on YouTube!!" and he waved his fancy phone in my direction. I noticed another guy was with him, also laughing.

"I'm going to call it 'Woman Urinates Behind Building'!" and they both laughed, waggling their phones in the air. When I looked back, one of them was filming my piss running down the walkway.

You know how this ends:

I woke up, got out of bed, and peed.

I don't know why it works, but it does

2009-03-19T11:37:00.001-05:00

Me: I feel blue

Him: i feel: 83, 160, 213

Him: ...but that is because i am a cylon

Him: something to cheer you up: Lesley asked me a Thomas' B-day party if I had a bucket list

Me: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAAAAHHAAAAAAAAA

sit! stay! paw! other paw! gooooood boooooyyyyyyy!

2009-03-14T11:16:00.002-05:00

Hey, I saw a very funny New Yorker cartoon. The title is "Bloggers without Borders" and there's a guy on a street corner with a megaphone, and he's yelling out "You want my latest opinion about the President? How about my opnion of Japanese enzyme baths. Or breakfast wraps--you need to hear what I have to say about breakfast wraps!"

Also, why is the first chapter of Cesar Milan's book "Cesar's Way" all about himself and how great America/Jada Pinkett-Smith is? Just get on with the Dog Magic, Cesar.

So as you can tell, I've had trouble blogging lately. Maybe I'll try a little harder to resuscitate this "bloated corpse" as a favourite IWF called it.

who even wants to know

2009-02-04T20:57:00.003-05:00

That my dog eats tissues. I just fished one out of his gullet now, using sweeping motions and my longest fingers.

I forgot how to log in

2009-02-03T10:41:00.002-05:00

Also, how to use a computer in general.

Hey, all I have to tell you right now is the other day I did a high-kick in old jeans, and I ripped my pants in the butt. I guess those jeans are for the rag bin now. Or Saturday night at The Lafayette.

Also, I taught my 63-lb poodle how to do taxes. He's really good at it. Want him to do yours?

Also, I have a New Yorker Cartoons desk calendar and one of the best captions so far is "But I hate su casa."

things on my bookshelf that maybe shouldn't be there

2008-11-12T08:30:00.003-05:00

- blonde wig, shoulder-length bob, straight bangs
- plastic produce bag with a round piece of soap in it
- box printed with image of a set of encyclopedias - in the box, nothing

Hey, if you want to laugh your ass off, go listen to Margaret Atwood reading "Payback" on CBC's Massey Lectures. I'll try to find the link later.

She reads in this unbelievable monotone that will slowly loosen your grip on sanity. Plus she's whip-smart and very funny.

I know you are but what am I?

2008-11-09T13:12:00.002-05:00

Well, looks like I missed two days. Whoops.

I know it's really childish of me but I'm still really enjoying Sarah Palin, even moreso now that she's back in Alaska where she has little influence on how things go in the rest of the world. What a nightmare she would have been in Washington.

Most recently, I dearly love how she responded to the allegations that she didn't know what countries were in NAFTA or that Africa was a continent. All in the same semi-coherent, rambling sentence, she defended herself against the people who burned up the phone lines to CNN, calling their actions "immature" and "unprofessional"... just before she calls them "jerks". AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA. Pot!! Kettle!!!*

I'll be over this soon, but it really made me giddy to see her lose after she was part of such a low-down dirty campaign and after her many nauseating displays of ignorance and arrogance.

--------------

* Fortunately, I'm more than happy to own up to the fact that I'm immature, unprofessional AND a jerk.

got to run, have a date

2008-11-06T18:21:00.003-05:00

So tonight's post will be an easy one:

AHAHHAHAAHAAAAAAAA

-------
Update: I hasten to humbly add that Canada isn't any better.

I really enjoyed this

2008-11-05T21:32:00.005-05:00

Yeah, the Newsweek Special Election Project.

This is my favourite part:

The debates unnerved both candidates. When he was preparing for them during the Democratic primaries, Obama was recorded saying, "I don't consider this to be a good format for me, which makes me more cautious. I often find myself trapped by the questions and thinking to myself, 'You know, this is a stupid question, but let me...answer it.' So when Brian Williams is asking me about what's a personal thing that you've done [that's green], and I say, you know, 'Well, I planted a bunch of trees.' And he says, 'I'm talking about personal.' What I'm thinking in my head is, 'Well, the truth is, Brian, we can't solve global warming because I fucking changed light bulbs in my house. It's because of something collective'.

\

And oh god oh god oh god the rumours that he might appoint Robert Kennedy to head up the EPA are AWESOME. That'd be like getting our own amazing Elizabeth May (who utterly spanked all the other party leaders in the national debates) set up as Canadian Environment Minister. Imagine! A smart, qualified, articulate, proven environmental activist in charge of a national environment portfolio!

(I know, Chomsky, I know, it's still politics old-school, but for now it's all we've got.)

Incidentally, I also really enjoyed this, AND the fact that I found it by googling images for "monkeys flinging poo":

yayayayayayay!!!

2008-11-04T21:35:00.003-05:00

OK, maybe it's premature, but I'm excited.

I was trying to explain to a friend the other day how growing up as a kid in the Trudeau era in Canada (and to give credit, with parents like mine) meant that you were inundated with visions of a racism-free, hopeful, country where things were fair, generous and kind - no not just country - WORLD. Being a kid in the 70s was on the tail of all that socially revolutionary stuff of the 60s, and we were told that we were free to be you and me, that it was fine for boys to have dolls, that being gay was no big deal, that colour of the skin means nothing.

But then you grow up a bit more and you see that while that's what we supposedly want, it's mostly white dudes in power, with women few and far between, being gay means you often get treated like a pariah, and you get to see how race IS an issue despite all those dreamy ideas we had (and have).

As I write this, Obama has 196 electoral votes, and McCain has 163. But Obama is leading in 96 electoral votes that are still undecided, and McCain is only leading in 26.

This might sound kind of corny, but I'm not only FUCKING OVERJOYED for every non-white kid who has felt subconsciously - or consciously - that they can't REALLY be President or Prime Minister or whatever the hell else they set their sights on, and is now (hopefully) having that psychological barrier shattered, but I'm fucking overjoyed for everyone else. It's about time!!!!

but I am LE TIRED

2008-11-03T21:08:00.002-05:00

Trying to post every day in November. I can't possibly have any remaining readers, though, can I?

Dog is at my feet, chewing at a once-stuffed plush rabbit that he has carefully turned inside out. He finds a way to bite its remaining plastic bit slowly with his front teeth, so that it sounds like nails on a chalk board.

I can't think of anything else to write. Pour me some wine, please.

let's stay sprung

2008-11-02T23:07:00.002-05:00

Sprung forward, that is. What the hell with the sun now setting at 5PM or whatever? Why can't we just leave it as 6PM? I'm not into falling back.

Speaking of falling back, please, America, don't elect McCain/Palin on Tuesday. I was in Europe in 2004 when you elected Bush for a second time and you would not believe how stupid THAT made you look. Everyone else in the world looked on in horror. I just don't get how so many middle and working class Americans end up voting Republican, when Republican policies FUCK OVER the middle and working class.

dude loves playing christ figures when his moses robes aren't around

2008-11-01T20:37:00.005-05:00

WTF? We bought like 150 mini chocolate bars and only 6 kids came to the door.

So we kicked in the pumpkin, turned out the lights, threw the dog's dinosaur costume in the garbage, and went down to the basement to watch that asshole Charlton Heston in The Omega Man.

Our friend Bord Goner just got back from Vancouver, and he showed up just in time to help us talk through the entire movie. With a movie like that, you can't help but shout out inane commentary. It helps pass the time.

"Jeez, Charlton, put your shirt back on. No one wants to see your hairy man boobs. I mean, GOD! I think he's been shirtless for like, two-thirds of this thing."

"I hate his decor. He might own masterpieces but it's just wall clutter if you hang it like that."

"Imagine the zombie trip to the fabric store when they were putting together their new undead outfits. 'I'm looking for something black and sinister, but with some shimmer and texture. Something that really says "The FAMILY!"'"*

Welcome back, Bord!!!!

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* I don't know how to blog the enthusiastic jazz hands that go with that last bit.

dogface

2008-10-26T17:08:00.002-05:00

I'm going to try blogging again.

In the last month I:

- started a new job
- got my puppy's balls snipped off
- took the puppy to the vet again two weeks later after he got bitten on the ear by some dork dog in the park
- shacked up
- still volunteering quite a bit tutoring the great kids in a so-called bad neighbourhood and doing lots of ESL stuff with the mamas over there, who are such amazing ladies (haven't written about that yet, but I've been doing it for a year and a half now)

Things are good, but busy. How are you?

Anyway, that cute little puppy I got at the end of March is now SIXTY POUNDS. His name might officially be Atticus Finch, but more often he is called:

Coo-coo
Atti-coo-coo
Dog
Doggler
Lloyd Doggler (you know, like Lloyd Dobbler in Say Anything)
Doggins
Dogginsala
Dogginla
Dogface
Monkey
Monkey-doo
Monkler
Monkler the Funkler
Monkler Funkler Bunkler
Boy Yo Yo
Prince of Dogness (because he's black, and occasionally Satanic)

The list goes on and on and on. It's ridiculous and will most assuredly get worse. Exhibit A: the other day, I was out in the park and he was running around and being cute and I called out to him: "Come on, Baby Bo-ooyy!!"

Baby Boy?

Baby Boy!?!?!

I looked around furtively and was grateful to discover that I was alone and no one within earshot. If there had been I would have given notice on my house and moved to another town.

worst jobs

2008-09-07T14:01:00.000-05:00

Mr. Able: i worked for my dad once

Roo: how was it?

Mr. Able: he paid me 10 pounds to scrape barnacles off of about 200 planks
how was it? it was absolutely fucking horrible
you can't imagine the smell
and barnacles? they don't WANT to come off

Roo: jesus
that is hilarious and awful

Mr. Able: yeah
that and gutting whelks are probably my two least favourite jobs ever

Roo: what the hell are whelks?

Mr. Able: large shellfish
you have to remove their gut cos it is full of sand
so you squeeze them until the end of the gut pops through the skin, then grab hold and yank it out

Roo: oh god
that's disgusting
in the worst job ever category, A and my friend Chris McC always tells of a biology student who got a job masturbating rats in a lab

Mr. Able: frankly wanking rats would be a doddle compared to gutting whelks

Roo: hahahahaaaaa

Mr. Able: i bet they have rat wanking sticks or something

Roo: I think he had to use his fingers
my friend Graham had a job working in the field as a bio student and he had to milk red squirrels

Mr. Able: whereas whelks? you have to pull the guts out with your fingers

Roo: grasping their tiny teets between forefinger and thumb

Mr. Able: and they are slippery!
jesus

Roo: fuck, that whelk job takes the cake I think

Mr. Able: you can milk anything with nipples

Roo: hey
I want to post some of this convo
on my blog

Mr. Able: do it do it do it!

Roo: ok

Mr. Able: i remember blogs
are people still writing those things
how quaint
i can barely keep up with tweets nowadays
my brain is fucked

making myself sick

2008-09-03T10:12:00.003-05:00

Hi there, legions of readers! (?)

So I never really watch TV anymore, but yesterday I discovered that my rabbit ears pull in the channel that airs The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. Thank you, Jebus! I also glutted myself on the new 90210 and feel inexplicably good about that.* Finally, at about 1 AM I watched Barack Obama's acceptance speech online, because I thought I should get caught up on that sort of thing.

Well, it was nice to hear something hopeful. See, this last weekend I read most of Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda by Romeo Dallaire and just got so profoundly depressed about the world and how crappy humans can be.

Also the ice shelves are breaking off in the Arctic now, too.

So. ELECTIONS IN THE USA, eh? Here's my quick assessment:

- McCain = the man does not even know how to use a computer **
- Palin = hahahahahahahahaha ***
- Biden = you'll forgive me that as a Canadian I am only figuring out who this guy is now
- Obama = it's about time we had someone with a "funny name" in power****

We're facing a shitty, shitty election in Canada soon too. Why shitty? Because Stephen Harper, our gross little Prime Minister knows the Liberals under Stephan Dion***** are weak, and is ready to strike and take over the country with a conservative majority. You just KNOW that he'll stop being all "right of center" as soon as they've got the win in the bag and go all super right-wing. Bleh. And I know I'm not the only one who thinks he might be an alien in an ill-fitting rubber human suit. Hello: Stephen Harper's majority. Goodbye: our water tables to the oil sands, arctic ice shelves, programs that help people who are struggling, health care, etc. etc. etc.

So I'll vote Green and hope for the best.

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* Which just seemed to go on and on. (How long was that premiere, like three and a half hours?)

** But then, George W. had never left the United States before becoming President. JESUS, AMERICA, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? How is anyone going to understand the finer points of statecraft when they have never really grokked that there are actually other places in the world, and heck, even different cultures, like.

*** But dear god, if they get in, say goodbye to ANWR, and all else that is even close to holy. Still, at first I was all depressed about her, because you know, at first glance she seemed to fill in all the McCain side blanks and have some broad, if reactionary appeal, (far from Washington/Bush cabal, supposedly anti-establishment, young and maybe slightly more tuned in, etc. etc.). But now I think it's just hilarious because she's so unbelievably underqualified. Then again, on that same note: GEORGE W. BUSH.

**** From my few years of studying Arabic (I am so not kidding) Barack is one way to transliterate the word "blessing", related to baruch in Hebrew. That's a lot of pressure, but maybe he could live up to his name even a little? Also Hussein, his middle name, is related to the word for "good" but as these things go, there have been quite a few good as well as quite a few not-very-good Husseins in the world. Anyway, I know that he has speech-writers and stuff, and a lot of it is simply rhetoric, but it was just so pleasant and heartening to hear someone saying the things he said.

***** Who? Yeah, EXACTLY. Dion's very smart and would be a good PM, but I just don't think he can win an election against the swaggering bully Harper. Why do people vote for assholes? Why does gentle and thoughtful come across as "weak" in the political arena?

If I Twittered, this would be a tweet

2008-09-02T20:22:00.001-05:00

My puppy finally shat that tissue he wolfed on Saturday.

I've seen the future

2008-08-20T15:56:00.002-05:00

Roo: god I just watched the footage from the men's tri
goosebumps
it is so great

DS: I haven't watched a minute of the olympics.

Roo: it's all online, who needs it live
if I just get goosebumps watching it KNOWING the end result

DS: True

Roo: in fact, soon all of our experiences will be menu-driven
and delayed gratification will be a thing of the past
especially once we are part robot
and can experience six things at once
with our new AI brains
our AI auxiliary brains

DS: File, new project, baby
Import to: female

Roo: you've got it

DS: Export from: vagina
Share with: world

Roo: yes

DS: Bad command or file name! Earth does not support human/goat format.

Roo: not yet, anyway

I fought the lawn...

2008-08-14T10:32:00.005-05:00

...and I might have won, although the clouds of fumes spewed from the mower and inhaled by me probably shaved 6-8 months off my life.

What I have learned is that if you spend a total of 45 minutes at your house in the course of a month*, things are bound to go to hell on the domestic front, signaled partly by the development of a suffocating lushness in the yard featuring towering milkweeds, knee-high grasses, and grapevine runners with leaves as big as dinner plates. I found two guys back there who didn't know WWII was over, and I reunited them with their families. But first we watched a bit of the Olympics, which was a nice way to stimulate some interesting discussions and help get them up to speed on present day geopolitics.

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* and during that 45 minutes, do nothing but PANIC!!1!

let loose from the bonds of earth

2008-08-13T10:36:00.004-05:00

Hi there!

I have a few entries to work on and I'll aim to get them up soon. Have just returned to my home, which is a pigsty.

Do you have some cream for my coffee? Thank you.

xo
Roo

p.s. Don't worry about it - in desperation I just added some vanilla yogurt* to my espresso. Espresso acidophilo. It was kind of a bad idea.

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* It is the best vanilla yogurt in all the land.

21.6 Kbps!!!!!

2008-07-30T09:00:00.002-05:00

Wh00t!

I'm at my parents' cottage where there's no high speed, no cell reception. Just painfully slow dial-up, a southerly breeze, air that smells like sweet fern*, and many low-lying bushes laden with wild blueberries.

Atticus has learned how to eat berries off the bush, but his oral assault on the bounty has not prevented us from gathering liters and liters with only a little bit of 90% pleasant effort.**

Got to run, I have to put on some socks and read my book. Hope my readers are having a good summer! I'll try writing more in August.***

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* An actual type of plant, not my own sentimental adjective applied to "fern". Also, this is one of my favourite scents in the world, so if you want me to love you, roll in it and then hover near my nose.

** 10% unpleasant due to the few horse flies and deer flies that are strong enough to battle the onshore breezes. This 10% can be reduced to less than 2% if you are wearing a sticky deer fly strip on the back of your Cedar Hill Trailer Park trucker hat. Record trapped so far = 13 of those winged bitches! (My sister gathered them on her run down a dirt road.) Nice work!

*** Likely starting mid-August.

church on time

2008-07-21T11:32:00.005-05:00

Of course everything was chaos, but somehow we managed to get my sister to the bride's hotel at the designated hour so she could fulfill her bridesmaid duties. Where is the church again? we asked, as she sprung from the car, hair wild, dark circles under her eyes, dress and shoes in a bag under her arm, (also, wedding speech unwritten, and two hours until the ceremony).* Right down there, she said, pointing. We could see the spires. Just remember Saint Paul's - think of your friend Paul S. she said, and shouted thanks over her shoulder as she ran toward the hotel door.

My sister had just come off a week of little sleep, moving to a new place, massive work deadlines, and a red-eye flight across the country from Whitehorse, Yukon to Montreal, Quebec.

We took the two hours until the ceremony to get a quick bite, nap for a few minutes, shower and get dressed. We also were shamefully short on sleep and not in our finest form, but with me teetering in red heels and a crisp new shirt on him we looked sharp enough. We headed out the door, glanced at the time: 23 minutes to get to the church.

Out on Avenue de Parc, we tried to hail a cab. No luck. After a few unsuccessful attempts, a pretty red-headed woman noticed and told us, "You want a cab? There is a stand down there on Fairmount", and off we went.

By the time we were in the backseat of the taxi, we had 12 minutes before the ceremony. We told the driver, St. Paul's, down near the Delta Hotel, we have 12 minutes.

"That's not far. I can do it," he said. We soon learned that he had taken this as a personal challenge.

Have you ever witnessed Montreal driving? We experienced the following:

- tires squealing, repeatedly
- impressively excessive horn use
- up on two wheels around a corner, the two of us flung brutally to the side door, which fortunately held shut
- cutting off someone at high speeds by six inches or less, every 4-9 seconds for the entire 12 minutes

Grinning and flushed with adrenaline by now, we became concerned when, in this unfamiliar city and speaking in very rusty French (or Franglais, more like), we whizzed past the spires we'd been looking for, which we spotted several blocks away.

"Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure that's the church back there that we're looking for."
"What?"
"I'm pretty sure we're going in the wrong direction."
"St. Paul's! St. Paul's in Old Montreal."
"No, it's St. Paul's near the Delta."
"There is a Delta in Old Montreal."
"No, we want a church called St. Paul's near Sherbrooke."

Stony silence as our cabbie pulled a U-ey and raced back up the street, lurching to a stop at a red light.

"How am I supposed to know! No address, just St. Paul's! There is no St. Paul's church."
"I'm so sorry, we gave you terrible directions. Can I please look at a map?"
"..."
"I don't see a St. Paul's... Shit shit shit. Oh! She must have meant St. James. Could she have meant St. James!?"
"..." **

After breaking most laws (traffic and otherwise) in the next two and a half minutes, (just short of gunning down pedestrians with unregistered firearms, I'm pretty sure), we screeched to a halt in front of St. James.

The only way to run in 3.5 inch heels is to bend your knees and get down low. It's not graceful - you look like the Minister of Silly Walks crossed with an orangutan, but if you need to move, it's much better than the little mincing steps you're otherwise forced to take.

Up the steps, and I swiped a program from the usher at the door. The right names were on it, so I ran back to the top of the stairs, gave my friend the thumbs up so he could throw a fistful of money at the cabbie and run to meet me.

Air on the G-String (sorry to report that I was so tired and frazzled that it is only JUST NOW as I am writing this that the hilarity of that title is suddenly clear)*** was playing as we snuck as inconspicuously as possible into one of the pews. We barely had time to mop the sweat from our brows before the procession began, and there was my sister, stunning in a strapless dress, looking miraculously as though she wasn't the least bit tired, and then the bride, looking like a 1930s movie star.

----
* But she is brave, articulate, and fast on her feet, so we were not too worried, even if she was.

** This is where I am quite sure he was quietly cursing us as the worst têtes-carrées to ever disgrace his automobile.

*** Think, for example, of whistling on a blade of grass between two thumbs, as my friend has just suggested, incredulous that it has taken me nearly 48 hours to clue in.

summer time summary so far

2008-07-11T08:59:00.004-05:00

PART 1 - COFFEE BOOZE SUGAR

Did I ever write about that great documentary I saw years ago where this father-son team of crazy evangelists with identical blonde slicked back hair and light blue suits were going around doing some CRAZY Jebus preaching in the south and collecting money from hapless desperate people?* They were so ridiculous and over-the-top insane, I couldn't tell if it was a mockumentary or for real until like, an hour in.

At one point the little kid is preaching to a congregation of people**, and a man busts in, drags his wife out of one of the pews, and yells at the boy something like, "you've been brainwashing her, this is bullshit, you keep away from her, you stop stealing from her!!!" and the whole sermon event comes to an abrupt and awkward end. Then the camera follows the boy preacher backstage and records the kid, who is clearly shaken, giving himself a pep-talk as tears roll down his cheeks and stain the front of his baby blue collar. He sobs, rocks his upper body and stares at the floor, muttering a steady stream of supplications to his Lord in a thick southern drawl. Suddenly he clenches his little fists and says fiercely, "Get AWAY from me Devil, you ain't never done nothin' but LIE to me Devil!"

Well, as my friends and family know only too well, that has pretty much been one of my favourite lines IN THE WORLD ever since. I have discovered a multitude of applications for it and invite you to do the same.

Try it:

GET AWAY FROM ME DEVIL, YOU AIN'T NEVER DONE NOTHING BUT LIE TO ME, DEVIL!!!!!!!

It's the best!

So that has been my mantra in avoiding caffeine, sugar and booze for the last oh, three weeks.

And here's the basic update:

Coffee

doing pretty well, although I still crave caffeine every single morning
the withdrawal headaches subsided a week ago
I am drinking an espresso right now

Booze

I made it through a whole hot sunny weekend at the family cottage/cabin/whatever you call it without drinking a drop of alcohol and didn't miss it, living only on wild blueberries, burgers and lime juice
yeah, your cold beer looks tasty, but I am just going to go jump in the lake instead! Now that's refreshing, hahahaha!
went to see some live music outside, including Calexico, and someone had to finish that last little bit of vodka in the freezer, didn't they? Yes, they did.

Sugar

DEVIL! DEVIL! DEVIL!
it's like my own personal Ramy al-Jamarat, and I am still successfully lobbing stones at the three pillars of white sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, and glucose***

Seriously though, I just want coffee to be an occasional treat, like this morning, and I feel so much better not drinking very often that it will be easy to keep that in check.

PART 2 - THE REST OF LIFE

getting over my mental block that I'll never learn how to sail**** and went toodling around in the old Laser with a great friend in fairly high winds, having little or no comprehension of what I was doing, with no greater calamity than dumping several times and getting a scorching pre-cancerous sunburn on my thighs
taught my coo-coo puppy how to swim, helpful for the summer because he's black and gets as hot as the earth's core on sunny days
contract recently slipped through my fingers very unexpectedly, (client postponed the whole project possibly indefinitely) so it'll be beans and rice for a while! Ah, I'll be alright for the summer, but if you're one of my 600 friends getting married in the next three months, you might well be getting a home-made gift, like a table runner made from my poodle puppy's shorn fur, or a misshapen platter constructed from dirt and clay dug up from my back yard and baked in my bottom-of-the-line Sears Kenmore oven.

---------------
* I don't have a problem with Jebus, I just have a problem with the crazies.
** who may very well have been zombies
*** just a general analogy, no offence meant to any Muslims of course
**** honestly, I just can't hold that rudder straight

Sweet tapdancing Christ, hold my hand for this

2008-06-27T09:36:00.004-05:00

Come on, it's overcast skies and it has been rainy for days and I'm so tired and I WANT COFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Could you hear me whining from over there?!

OK, it's time for some rational analysis.

PART A

Finish this sentence:

Coffee makes me feel...

...ALIVE ALERT HAPPY SMARTER THAN I REALLY AM FULL OF TIGER GROWLS READY TO LIFT TRUCK OFF BABY ME HULK ME HULK HAPPY

...also eventually more anxious, jumpy, moody, prone to useless rumination and fretting, plus I also tend to put on weight a bit when I drink it because it messes with my insulin and blood sugar, making me feel hungry more often.

PART B

When I'm not drinking coffee I feel...

calm, grounded, drowsy.

CONCLUSION

Is decaf okay? Can I just smell yours? What if I just swish it around in my mouth and spit it out?

Atticus is a hump machine

2008-06-25T21:48:00.002-05:00

I was thiiiiiiiis close to cutting out his nards myself tonight. (Snip! Snip!) The humping - and by this I mean humping the toys, humping the couch, air humping - is reaching new, unforeseen and generally unnecessary heights. I tried to chasten him by ripping out his inner ear hair,* with negligible results.

He is also getting huge, and I don't mean his little grape-sized testicules,** so he's getting heavier to toss to the other end of the sofa when he starts his ridiculous mechanical thrusts. Because his legs are so long, when he tries to hump the bunny, he's mostly grinding the air three inches above its head:

Picture taken from here.

-------
* Don't look at me like that, you have to do this with the long-eared hairy breeds or they get ear infections.

** Best pronunciation and spelling. Use it. Abuse it.

more herbal tea, please

2008-06-24T10:18:00.003-05:00

So I'm coping without coffee. I'd really really love some right now, just once, just this one time, just for old times sake, just one little cup, just ohmygodIamanaddict.

braces, glasses, acne, perm

2008-06-23T21:54:00.004-05:00

I'll dig up a picture of me in my glory days as a 13 year old. Wow.

So I've been gunning for this contract, see? And the guy who decides who gets it has been kind of elusive. I shouldn't worry. I have the right experience, plus my former CEO is a friend of his and recommended me heartily. But they are keeping me in the dark about all the details and now I'm just feeling like, to hell with them. I need to plan my summer, folks!!

It could just be my defensive reaction to the major embarrassment I sustained today. I called the guy, got his voice mail, slightly flubbed what I meant to say, and hit the key that I thought would let me "erase and re-record".

Yah.

NO DICE.

The automated voice simply said "Thank you" and ended the call, leaving me with a dial tone, and the sudden sensation of spit-talking braces on my teeth, huge glasses eclipsing my face, erupting acne in the T-zone, and chemically curly hair.

So apparently I sent this guy a dumbass message that abruptly ends mid-sentence. I followed up with a coherent and confident-sounding email, but I don't know if that'll save it.*

-----
* I'm REALLY glad that I didn't let my message trail off into funny noises, something I usually do when I've decided to erase-and-re-record, like "ga ga ga ga gaaaaaaaaaaaa thhhhhhpppppppttttt".

breaking up is hard to do

2008-06-20T10:38:00.004-05:00

Well, it seems that I'm trying to kick coffee, booze and sugar. I'll be hard-core about it for a few weeks, then lighten up about a frosty beer here, a dessert there.

The reasons for sugar are obvious: it's plain old bad for you. It's in almost everything now, even your mayonnaise. However, with a bit of Type 2 diabetes in the family and my occasional day-destroying mood tailspins that are so obviously related to my fluctuating blood sugar, I'd be a dumbass to keep riding the sugar train.

In regards to the caffeine and booze, it's mostly because I've been craving these things a little TOO much lately, and I'm uncomfortable with being held so tightly in the grip of these substances. I don't want to need anything so badly to help me wake up or chill out.

Alcohol is no real problem; I'll just play with my hilarious puppy to unwind.

Sugar? Yes, I crave you, but you are a bastard who never treated me right in the first place. My resentment is palpable and gives me strength to slam the door in your face and hang up the phone on you several times a day until you get the message.

However, because I'm a caffeine junkie who loves her coffee so strong and thick and dark that you could tar the roof with it, I'm now suffering crippling multi-day full-body headaches radiating from my occiput. Coffee, you psychopath, I kissed you goodbye, and you kicked me in the base of the skull! Asshole, that is called assault. I had hoped you would handle our breakup like an adult and take away only fond memories of our good times together. I am SO disappointed in you. Don't think I won't get a restraining order if I have to.

(My favourite part is the girl on the left shushing someone during the intro.)

I'm so mature

2008-06-18T16:59:00.004-05:00

I have successfully trained my puppy to shit when I give the command to "Lay Some Pipe".

Buoyed by my success, I now feel that anything is possible. Perhaps we'll now work on:

That Stinks! = look ashamed and wordlessly take the blame for mommy's toot

Martinis! = please hold mommy's hair back while she barfs

Any other suggestions?

-------
UPDATE: I have been informed by MANY that "Laying Pipe" really means "doing it" and by "doing it" I mean "having sexual intercourse". Well I'll be darned. So I've switched to "Lay Some Logs"...

don't let this happen to you

2008-06-14T11:34:00.004-05:00

Hi hi hi!

It's been a while. But you already know I'm Worst Blogger Alive, so I know you already have low expectations.

Of course, the best thing to get me out of my writing silence is complaining about other people!*

This one is kind of stale but it's all I've got, other than "blah blah, my puppy is sooooo cute, blah blah". If that was enough for you, go on, read Garfield minus Garfield or whatever it is that my readers usually read.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was invited out to a farewell party for this woman I've met a few times. It was at this hip Chinese-fusion kind of restaurant in town, the kind where the food is great and the coolest kids in town know the owners and the wait staff by name, and they all invite each other to each other's gigs and there's always some local hipster's art on the walls. You know that kind of place.

I was surrounded by Masters and PhD students. They're all studying interesting things, all working on looking at things from not very mainstream angles (like how power works, how governments are guiding and shaping human life, how we are shaping our own lives and participating in structures of power) and most of them are interested in some way improving the world, making things more fair or better for other people. Really, all the ingredients were there for some interesting conversations. YOU'D THINK.

See, I'm pretty friendly and curious and can usually have some kind of conversation with just about anybody. But could I get these people to talk? Well, yes, a little, about themselves, with the subtext being "I don't think you'll understand my work. It's very involved."

One guy there is currently working on self-government issues for First Nations in Canada, and when I said, "Neat. So what specifically drew you to study that?" hoping to hear about his passion for his work, or the aspects he finds most challenging, he looked at me like I'd just asked him how he felt about his mother working the back alley for fifty cents a trick.

Stunned by the silence around our end of the table (weren't these people supposed to be friends with each other?), I tried the American guy to my left, who's studying how agricultural policy has changed over the last few decades and what it reflects about power and government, and what and how much different countries grow as a result of policy, and how we eat. Maybe boring to some, but I'm a pretty big nerd and would have loved to hear more about what he has been learning.

Did my line of questioning get anywhere, even after I mentioned I'd worked for a prof who did related work to help indicate that I would get it? No. That's because apparently everything I said somehow came through his internal narcissistic translator as "I am so hot for you", which left him confused as to why I was hitting on him in front of my boyfriend.**

Then I tried everything - summer plans, anyone? Anyone read or see anything good lately? How about some silly quips about the cheap house wine? Pulse? Consciousness? Is this thing on?

Nobody asked me or my companion ANYTHING about ourselves, not even how we knew the guest of honour. Finally I sank into a silent rage and aggressively worked on finishing the wine.

MESSAGE TO GRAD STUDENTS ACROSS THE LAND:
I know what you're doing is underpaid and goes largely unrespected, but please put an end to the douchebaggery.

Thank you.

-------
* It would be a lie to say that I've become more positive and that's the reason for my most recent lacuna.

** Dude, it's called conversation. I'm just a crude civilian, remember? If I'd been hitting on you, I would have been suggesting we head to the back alley and have a threesome with the other dude's mom. (Maybe if you mentioned you were studying agriculture from a Foucauldian perspective she'd give us a two-fer-one?)

it's a cheeky little chardonnay with no breeding but I think you'll be amused by its presumption

2008-05-19T01:03:00.005-05:00

Title from a vaguely remembered New Yorker cartoon.

Tonight we drank an "Australian Shiraz" given to us by the kindly 80 year old matron of what my sister calls the "Pastel Palace" B&B where we have been staying. It's a home-made wine, and like obnoxious assholes, we stuck our noses in our Mason jars, sniffed deeply, and pronounced:

"freezer burn"
"cheap orange popsicle"
"chicken poop"
"transmission fluid on hot asphalt"
"burnt spaghetti sauce"
"overripe bananas"

And to balance all that out, we have the more tender observations:

"smooth tannins"*

and

"smells like a headache"**

A few days in Victoria and we're all drunk on rhododendrons.

--------
* my father said, gently tapping my wrist
** my brother said, who only three days ago, when shopping with me for wine, lifted a bottle and asked mechanically, "will this one make us barf tomorrow?"

oh lord my fam is good

2008-05-18T22:21:00.004-05:00

Walking along the beach today, air humid and a bit cool, sun keeping us warm* in t-shirts, sand in sandals, the tide churning about full of seaweed like a thick soup full of vegetables, we were a group of:

- my dad's two sisters and brother
- my dad's brother's daughter
- my brother and two sisters
- my sister's youngest daughter
- my uncles (via my dad's sisters)
- my dad and mom

Somehow we all like each other. Peeling off in slowly shifting groups of twos and threes we walked and talked for a long time.

My beloved** aunt Fig asked, "Why does it take a wedding to get us all together?" Good question.

I better go - dinner is served. Wild sockeye!

------
*ok, I've since heard that not everyone was warm
**she really is

The Moopler, The Poopler

2008-05-15T17:08:00.002-05:00

Oh, and here's a fairly recent picture of my Muppet Puppy Atticus, aka Atticoo-coo, Lloyd Doggler, The Moopler, The Poopler:

He's at home but I left him in good hands. (Great hands, even.)

notes from lotusland

2008-05-15T16:56:00.002-05:00

Hi folks,

I'm in Victoria BC for my cousin's wedding and the whole family is together. It's great. I'm going to gush for a bit: my west coast family is great, the woman my awesome cousin is marrying is terrific, and the soft ocean air here smells like honeysuckle and apple blossoms. My sister is here from the Yukon and hanging at my brother's place with his awesome partner and their sweet kid has meant that I've been laughing a lot and participating in multiple discussions about poop.

My bro, sis, sis-in-law and I just watched this and I thought I'd share it with my tiny readership in honour of great west coast antics and pastimes that I'm obviously too mature and responsible for now, before heading off to hang with a mob of cousins, aunts and uncles.

summer plans

2008-05-09T10:44:00.002-05:00

spend a lot of time in a canoe, not like last summer
teach dog to comb mommy's hair and sing
write a couple of stories about you
read a bunch of books
sleep out in my tent lots
swim every week or so, like a mile or two
play the hell out of my banjo, mastering one or two new songs*

---
* Any suggestions? Keep in mind that I only like learning songs in minor keys, the ones about drinking away all the money you borrowed or getting wrongly arrested in a case of mistaken identity so that you miss your wedding day and then your one true love goes and marries your rival instead because she thinks you don't love her no mo', and then everyone dies in a mining disaster/train wreck/murder-suicide.

oh canada

2008-05-05T10:34:00.004-05:00

Note received today:

Hey Guys,

If you're planning a trip I'd love to go. I was just trying to plan a cross-america road trip last night. I was going to go cross-canada but when I pulled up the map I noticed that there's like, nothing of interest between quebec and bc.

- CH

Oh, speaking of maps, I know a few people who will love this. Map Tetris!

a dinner I have recently regretted

2008-05-02T09:32:00.005-05:00

1/2 cup prunes and a glass of white wine

Why? Why? Why?

I'm not on some stupid diet, I've just been busy. Wrong on every level conceivable, the prune part started out as an innocent snack while I vegged in front of the TV for the first time in months.* (I don't have cable at home and was hanging out at my mom's.) Then I poured myself a glass of wine, which was meant more as a pre-dinner drink, but as I did not end up eating anything else, this magical combination came to constitute my dinner. Two hours later, there was hell to pay.**

This all reminds me of a magazine ad from the 1950's that a friend cut out and made into a birthday card for me a little while ago. "Do you want to feel the bubbling buoyancy of youth?" it cheerfully asked. After extolling the prune's many supposedly primary virtues (high in iron, tasty, healthy source of energy, etc.) it casually and discreetly mentioned that prunes were also good for keeping you regular.

Maybe I went about it all wrong, but that's just not the kind of regular*** I'm interested in.

------
* It's really easy to just eat one prune then another, like popcorn, and somehow ingest half a cup without ever really intending to.

** Payee might be accurately identified as the toilet bowl in the yellow bathroom on the second floor; I am not going to get into describing the hell part. You're welcome.

*** or bubbling

moving in the right direction

2008-05-01T14:24:00.001-05:00

Roo: I love how when my dog breathes near my feet it warms up my toes.

Thomas: well, if all the right-wingers are correct, gay marriage will soon lead to you being able to marry your dog.

I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Roo: me too

useful

2008-04-15T20:59:00.004-05:00

This, sent to me from my sister in Whitehorse with subject line "Are you ready to pounce?" and the message:

Roo, this was in yesterday's Whitehorse Star...

Fuck, where was he 4 months ago when you were here!?

UPDATE:
Thank you, Em, for this:

nobody knows the trouble he's seen

2008-04-13T19:41:00.004-05:00

Brushed out the little Fluffernutter today and he acted like it was the great puppy massacre of 2008. You should have heard the screaming. You'd have thought I was gouging his eyes out. Like any good mama, I just held him in my iron grip and cooed to him while I finished the job. Come on, dog! You get fed, snuggled, romped, and I pick up your poop! What do you do but chew, nap and hump?

Cutest things lately:

1) He loves to curl up on the oregano bush in my spring-muddy garden and comes in smelling like Italian meatballs.

2) He sticks his whole face in the snow as if he was taking a serious stab at bobbing for apples, then snorts and prances around high-stepping. Then he does it again.

We've made a lot of progress, Atticus and me. He now sleeps past 6:30 AM and pees on command, always outside now (though the paper is staying on the floor for one more week). He has also been corrected enough on the "not ok to hump/ok to hump" divide enough that he gets it right about 95% of the time.

Not OK to Hump:

human adults
human children
sofa cushions
my down jacket
really, dog, any of my stuff is off limits

OK to Hump:

lamiedoodle

Yup, that's right. The Lambiedoodle is definitely a lower-rank dog than you in this pack. Go nuts!*

--------
* Especially while you still have them. MWAHAHAHAHAAA.**
** Sorry, that was terrible.

caught out

2008-04-11T09:06:00.003-05:00

Thomas: CA looks exceptionally dorky right now.

Roo: I love him in all his forms
what was he wearing/doing/smelling like?

Thomas: he just blushed

Roo: oh god, he's not right there is he?

Thomas: uhhhh
gotta go!

Roo: fuck, he's not supposed to know that I even LIKE HIM

Thomas is offline.

I LOVE DILL HAVARTI!!!!!!!

2008-04-07T15:03:00.001-05:00

Also, his name is Atticus. Yes, I named my dog after a character who, among other things, shot a dog.

More soon - just so freaking busy with work right now. BLEHAHRAHFHGH.

Dr. Bunsen Honeydew

2008-04-01T14:36:00.002-05:00

No, he still doesn't really have a name. Look into that face and tell me what it is:

Harold Lamb's Khlit

2008-03-30T06:46:00.006-05:00

My parents bought a place when I was four. It's on a lake, and is what most people in Ontario refer to as a cottage. (Out in BC people refer to them as cabins. What do they call rudimentary second homes situated in forests or near lakes where you live? I call them proof that I'm lucky as hell, as it turns out.)

One notable thing about this place, besides the fact that it can only be accessed by boat, is that it has a wall of books. These books are almost all mystery novels from the 40s, 50s, and 60s, many featuring wasp-waisted women on the covers. They have titles like "The Red-Headed Corpse", "The Bride Wore Black" and "Too Late to Live". Another favourite title (because it's so over-the-top) that my sister found: "We All Killed Grandma".

In the collection (alphabetized by author by the previous owner), there are other random books, including a few by Harold Lamb. Who is Harold Lamb you might ask? WHO IS HAROLD LAMB!?! Well, he's the guy who wrote some crazy historical fiction novels (mostly about conquerors) that fans claim can teach you about history as well as the characters involved. You know, get to really know Genghis Khan and Timur, etc. And their families. And the thousands of people whose severed heads they left in a trail behind them.

Someone in my family, who may even be moved by this post to comment, LOVES Harold Lamb books, a source of some amusement to the rest of the family.

As you know, I recently discovered that one of Lamb's books is called The Curved Saber: The Adventures of Khlit the Cossack. My sis and I found a link (which I've since lost) that allowed viewers to read some of this superbly-named tome online.

Without further ado, I give you our foolish conversation:

Goo: if you click on the book
it will let you read it
i wish i could copy paste some of these lines
"It was a good battle," Khlit growled, "it was a battle such as I have never seen."
click on the first book, wolf of the steppes

Roo: "Here they formed in a line, Khlit taking his place between Chagan and a trembling youth in Dungan garb."
AHHAHAHAHAH

Goo: nice find!!!!

Roo: page 430

Goo: they abound

Roo: it's a goldmine

Goo: almost as though Lamb was having his own game

Roo: check this out - "Action and the prospect of conflict aroused him, and Khlit, who missed nothing, saw that the Khirghiz were equally gay."*

Goo: sweeeeeet
are you able to copy paste?
I found another one

Roo: no
sadly
type it out
so worth it

Goo: harold lamb has supplied this family with so much entertainment over the years

Roo: I know
endless

Goo: "Khlit stroked the scabbard of his curved sword thoughtfully"

Roo: I declare a winner!
I'm really tired though. Have to go to bed now. Me=melting.

Goo: OK! good night.
stroke it thoughtfully.

Roo: As always.

--------
*By the way, I'm 100% all for the gays: being gay, feeling gay, gay marriage, gay sex, gay gay gay.

best book title evar

2008-03-27T22:19:00.002-05:00

The Curved Saber: The Adventures of Khlit the Cossack

Can you even believe how good that is!?!?!? DO I HAVE TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU!?>!?

Never mind.

Dr. Silkenstein

2008-03-26T08:31:00.004-05:00

If Matt Hooker can have Beef, and J&M can have these guys,* I can have Dr. Silkenstein**:

Other possible names:

Dr. Bunsen Honeydew (who famously turned gold into cottage cheese)
Beauregard (after the janitor on The Muppet Show)
Rorschach
Louis, sort of after the swan in E.B. White's The Trumpet of the Swan
Ferris (obvious)
Arlo
Department of Justice

Another reasonable suggestion:

how about:

Solomon

Solomon Andre (to name after famous swedish hot air balloonist who attempted to fly balloon to north pole in 1897)

then you get all these great/cute nicknames - Saul, Solly, Mani, Solo***

I kind of like the idea of a northern-inspired name because I'm so crazy about the Yukon, but I can't just call the dog Yukon, because that's already the name of a big truck.****

OK, peanut gallery, your turn!

--------
* Yes, I did just compare your two human children to puppies, but I mean it in the nicest way.

** Those scratches on my chest are my own fault. I went into the big puppy pen, partly reclined on the blanket they have learned not to soil, and squealed "Puppiespuppiespuppieeeeeeeeeeeeees!!!!!!!" so that I had six beautiful creatures clambering all over me with their tiny needle-sharp puppy claws. Absolutely worth all physical damage sustained.

*** Which also means I'd call it Han Solo, OBVIOUSLY.

**** God, I am sick of over-sized super-polluting vehicles being named after wide open, beautiful natural places. We all know that your truck is going to spend 99% of its life in the city while you pretend to be nature-loving and adventurous, you big self-deluding fraud.

if A is to B what C is to D

2008-03-25T13:02:00.004-05:00

New Dad*: apparently, one CAN get sick of really high-end lifestyle muesli. who knew?
sometimes you just want cheerios, innit
in the same way that, to use a cultural analogy for a canadian, sometimes you just want kraft dinner, not ricotta and fennel risotto

Roo: thanks for helping that make sense to me
I am totwally blogging that

ND: guess what i'm cooking for dinner tonight?
what's that canadian heavy metal mockumentary movie where they say 'just giv'er!'?

Roo: FUBAR

ND: fucking loved that movie

Roo: it's also the one where Plan A is to start a garage band and make it big, become millionaires with groupies and Plan B (you know, if that doesn't work out) is to "just fuckin' giv'er"

ND: hahaha

Roo: yes
Plan B
it's just so useful

-----
* as of March 19

not unlike a fightin' kind of mood

2008-03-17T09:02:00.003-05:00

I've been in a denying kind of mood lately.

Not to be confused with denial, the "denying kind of mood" means actively, consciously, often irrationally (and therefore often against my best interests) saying "Fuck no!"

I'm digging in my heels, randomly, stubbornly, the way our old dog Sophie, a 15-lb cat who masqueraded in this life as a black miniature poodle, used to angle every one of her spindly legs in such a way that she'd suddenly feel 150 lbs at the end of the leash - all because she wasn't done smelling this particular spot and wasn't ready to move yet, thanks, idiot human.*

In my particular case, it means denying everything, good and bad. For example, I have been refusing to go skiing, even in these fine conditions and good weather; I have been turning up my nose at alcohol and coffee; and I have resisted blogging with everything I've got. I don't return phone calls or emails promptly (or ever if I can help it, for no good reason), and I sometimes spend the whole day in my pajamas. It's an ornery sort of mood. Could it be that I am on strike until winter heads out and makes way for spring? It could.

On the positive side, I write to you now with some coffee in a cup next to me, which could signal a shift in the right direction, even though coffee is terrible for me. (My justification: at least I'm sort of switching things up.) This cup is from Japan and has a big bald head on the front of it, and standing on top of the big bald head is a pink poodle creature with Xs for eyes. I just looked for it online to show you but now I see I'll have to photograph it someday and post that instead.

Oh, and my friend CA made me promise that I'd name my new poodle "Department of Justice". I was reading out road signs as possible names for the pup, and I guess "Department of Justice" had a better ring to it than "Maximum 50 km". The conversation went something like this:

CA: Oh my god. Promise me you'll name your dog "Department of Justice". Promise me!

Roo: Really?

CA (more animated than I'd seen him in ages, and grinning widely to show all his terrifying white teeth): You have to do this. PLEASE do this!!

Roo: OK.

CA: Yesssssssss!!!!!!!!

Roo: Why do you always have to get your way, anyway? You are so demanding.

CA: I dunno, white male privilege? Aren't things just coming to me?

Roo: I'll tell you what's coming to you...

etc. etc.

----------
* Her general disdain for humans and other living creatures was legendary. She ate her chow by daintily chewing one kibble at a time; got huge, aggressive dogs ten times her size into submissive poses within seconds of meeting them; and refused to do any tricks, which she was more than smart enough to learn but which she so clearly believed were simply beneath her.

aahahahahahahaaaa

2008-02-26T19:23:00.000-05:00

Roo: what's a good name for a book on winter camping?

J: snow is thicker than water: murder camps in winter

name game

2008-02-20T10:28:00.006-05:00

So I'm getting a puppy at the end of March, right around my birthday. The bitch who gave birth to my mom's dog (Charley the Wonder Poodle, the only dog in the world who can bake muffins and brew you a perfect espresso with a nice thick crema) just had a gorgeous litter a few weeks back, on Groundhog Day. Check out these little monsters:

Spare me the "why a poodle" question because I'm about to answer it anyway. Bred and trained properly, standard poodles can be fantastic, cuddly, laid-back, quiet, occasionally hilarious, well-mannered dogs. I think I'm going to get a boy dog, even though in this breed there isn't supposed to be much difference between the males* and females, because I've heard that they're slightly easier to train. Poodles also don't shed, which is awesome in my books, and they tend to not absolutely stink to high-fucking-hell when wet.**

So anyway, now I have to come up with a name. When I was a kid, my best friend Alia and I named every new creature*** "Freddy" or "Herman", which we thought was pretty funny. Despite excellent name suggestions such as "Action Item" and "Poodie P. Schnoodle"****, I am stumped by this process of coming up for a moniker for something that is going to be my little buddy for the next 12 years.

So yesterday I got this great idea that I'd name it Rorschach, because you know, a black dog is kind of like an ink blot test that I could use to conduct elaborate psychological testing on friends and acquaintances:

"I see two men fighting."
"I see a butterfly."
"I see a map of the world!"
"I see eyes. Eyes, and a clitoris."*****
"I'm hungry. Do you have any more of those almonds?"

OK, now it's your turn. Any suggestions? (I'm looking for names, not inkblot interpretations.)

------
* neutered males, anyway

** some people mistake me for a dog lover, but I am not. I love certain dogs. Similarly, people who I love mistake me for a people lover, but I am not. I just love you.

*** caterpillar, bumble bee in a jar, ladybug, you name it - we weren't allowed real pets for the longest time

**** this latter suggestion from The Dude, who then complained that he was barred from participating in the process of choosing names for his daughters

***** this is actually what my good friend John claimed he saw in a Picasso painting we looked at together in Barcelona--of a field of wheat--and I laughed so hard and for so long that I nearly got kicked out of the museum - he was going on something like his 72nd hour without sleep after performing in Toronto and then flying overseas to meet me, both of which were conducted with much wine involved, and he was in deliriously rough shape, staggering around the Barrio Gotica with me blurting out wonderful, foul absurdities

b-b-b-b-b-b-BOB!

2008-02-11T15:23:00.000-05:00

I've been bad. Bob Wiseman did the coolest thing for me and I didn't even mention it here. He did this concert where he jammed with Catherine MacLellan on a CBC show called Fuse, and he invited me* and a few other folks in town to go, and it was great.

The idea with Fuse is they ask one musician or group to pick another musician or group that they have never played with. Then they put them together and these people get, like, one afternoon to hack around and come up with a concert together. It's really neat and the best ones have this kind of jovial feel to them, a bit like being in a living room packed with 100 strangers, with some musicians doing their thing in your midst. (CBC will soon archive the show for online streaming and when they do, I'll post the link.)

Toward the end Wiseman and MacLellan did a cover of Liz Phair's "Divorce Song" from Exile in Guyville.

That Liz Phair album reminds me of being in Vancouver in 1993, where I first heard really old Bob Dylan recordings** and got properly introduced to Elvis Costello by my friend Paul, and my roommate Chris gave me Bob Wiseman's City of Wood and the Wrench Tuttle album. I also remember a geeky friend of mine excitedly pointing out that part of Phair's nipple showed on the cover of Exile in Guyville, just as I recall the night we all got out of hand and gleefully kicked a hole in the wall and discovered that our shitty, robin's-egg-blue student house was uninsulated.

So anyway, Bob and Catherine decided to do a second take of Divorce Song, and they invited people up to sing with them. The friend I was with knew I knew/loved the song because I'd thoughtfully jabbed him in the gut with my pointy elbow when they first announced they were doing it, and whispered, "Oh yeah! This is gonna be great!"***

Most of my friends know I won't do karaoke because even though I love the idea I just can't do it. I just can't and won't so don't try to make me because I will claw out your eyes and kick you ruthlessly in your most tender places and cover your entire body with acid spit and writhe on the floor.

So my friend, who apparently never read the dossier on my inability to sing publicly pushed me on stage to sing along, and, you know, what the hell. Get over yourself, I thought. Liz Phair, she's just so good, and something about the feeling in the room that evening was just so relaxed and good natured that somehow I didn't fall to my knees and weep with embarrassment. It also helped that I stood so well back from the mic that I was probably inaudible. The woman to my right had a beautiful voice, and Amanda Putz seemed to know what she was doing with that shaker.

Some kind stranger took this picture, and then sent it to me because I asked.

Anyway, thanks Bob, for being kind and fun and giving a great performance, and thanks Catherine MacL for your sweet voice, thanks random strangers for taking pictures of me giving Bob devil horns while he flipped the bird at the lens and then sending them to me, and thanks CA for letting me beat you around the head, face and abdomen with my forehead and elbows.

----
*understand that we don't really know each other, so this is generally just a generous and trusting cool human thing to do

**where you could still hear how wistfully in love Dylan was, musically, with Guthrie, all played to me by a guy who I was in secretly love with, but who would have been all wrong for me, who was more in love with Dylan anyway

***also bonking him forcefully on the nose with my granite forehead as I tried to get my mouth near enough his ear to whisper

oh yeah! time for a tirade and some poetry!

2008-02-06T11:20:00.000-05:00

Hi folks, it's me... WBE (worst blogger ever).

I've been super busy with contracts lately and trying to shovel as much moolah into my RRSPs as I can so that I don't have to pay tons of tax this year.*

Anyway, I'm finally moved to post something after reading one of the most depressing articles ever about genetically-modified onions that won't make you cry. Worst line in the article: "we would like to see them become the household and industry norm within the next decade" (italics mine).

So who's up for an incoherent tirade and some poetry? YOU ARE? Great. I know that's what you come here for and I like to deliver. I've just the thing:

Onions make you cry! Get over it! Can't we let just a few things be uncomfortable? Does everything have to be so boringly easy and perfectly pleasant? We're already destroying the planet with our climate-controlled homes, drive-through bank machines and over-processed over-packaged nutritionally-void so-called food, do we now seriously have to fuck with the onion? How about putting some of that research time and energy into addressing any one of the more pressing concerns, like renewable non-polluting energy, working out some climate change solutions, eliminating human-made carcinogens from our air, water, soil and food chain. Or if you really are interested in genetics, how about getting involved in preserving the DNA of all those fruits and vegetables that are being whittled down to just a handful of varieties, or like, saving whales or something. JUST A THOUGHT, YOU ONION-FUCKING WEINER POOPIES.

I sort of imagine that a few tears and burning eyeballs are the price we pay for its deliciousness, for the depth of flavour it adds to so much of our food. I figure it's a fair price to pay just for the pleasure of smelling it frying in butter.

So as a bit of an antidote, I offer you "Ode to the Onion" by that poet, activist and womanizing genius, Pablo Neruda:

Onion,
luminous flask,
your beauty formed
petal by petal,
crystal scales expanded you
and in the secrecy of the dark earth
your belly grew round with dew.
Under the earth
the miracle
happened
and when your clumsy
green stem appeared,
and your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden,
the earth heaped up her power
showing your naked transparency,
and as the remote sea
in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite
duplicating the magnolia,
so did the earth
make you,
onion
clear as a planet
and destined
to shine,
constant constellation,
round rose of water,
upon
the table
of the poor.

You make us cry without hurting us.
I have praised everything that exists,
but to me, onion, you are
more beautiful than a bird
of dazzling feathers,
heavenly globe, platinum goblet,
unmoving dance
of the snowy anemone

and the fragrance of the earth lives
in your crystalline nature.

Thank you for weighing in, Mr. Neruda. I almost feel better.

------------
*I'm all for the welfare state, don't get me wrong, but setting aside a bit for when I'm a crotchety paddling hiking skiing boozy geriatric is probably a good idea.

THIS IS SCIENCE!!!

2008-01-25T21:05:00.000-05:00

Hot, tasty, determined-via-a-rigorously-tested-hypothesis SCIENCE!!!1!

My dear friend Lovey Thurston Howell III and I just saw the movie Juno. Great film. (SUMMARY - NO SPOILERS: Wes Andersony-ish, great soundtrack of obscures, people being way more fantastically articulately odd than possible but still human enough to relate to, etc.)

Anyway, let me fruitlessly bitch about the drivers we encountered on the road instead of raving about a movie you've all already seen. Lovey Thurston and I have realized after extensive research:

Dodge Caravan drivers = dillweeds

Pontiac Grand Am drivers = fuckwads*

Toyota Corolla drivers = jizzdangs**

---------
*Which we all already know.
**UNLESS that Corolla is a 1992 or older, in which case, the drivers are often hot and rad.

weekend update

2008-01-15T03:25:00.000-05:00

The weekends here have been great.

Exhibit A: Two weekends ago we skied/snow-tramped into an abandoned caboose just outside Skagway Alaska and slept in it. I'll post pictures from that in a bit. Some of us hung out in our Selk Bags/Gumby Suits (articulated sleeping bags), some of us just sipped a lot from the flask.
Exhibit B: One weekend ago my sister and I and a pal skied from Fish Lake into Whitehorse over a little pass in the mountains. I discovered that putting hot-shots in your bra helps keep all the important tender bits toasty!
Exhibit C: Just this last weekend, after a night of karaoke at the skivey Boiler Room and an unforgettable rendition of "Black Magic Woman"* we drove up to Kluane and skied the Oriole Trail, a little 15-km up and down dealio. Very pretty. I still have to download the photos.**

Here are some from Exhibit B. Going up from Fish Lake:

Skiing through the pass:

Skiing down the other side, heart POUNDING, quads BURNING, nipples FROZEN (it was -20 degrees Celsius)***:

I'm heading back south to my usual location on Wednesday morning. Hello, sunshine! I've had a great time up here but I would like a taste of Vitamin D please!

---------
* Look, HE'S the singer -- YOU'RE the dancer, the douche-who-takes-his-job-as-karaoke-coordinator-WAY-too-seriously said to my sister, (who was fantastic, for the record).

** Yes, fat camp is ongoing, unrelenting, exhausting.

*** I believe coming down the other side for several kilometers at breathtaking speed in the cold with the spectacular scenery and everything in my body burning with either lactic acid or frostbite, I might have been heard to exclaim "Geez Lou-fucking-WEEZ!!!!" several times through my ice-encrusted balaclava.

morning in the Horse

2008-01-14T13:21:00.000-05:00

At 9:52 AM today, my sister and I were driving down Two-Mile Hill into town and there were pinkish-orange sunrise clouds in the sky. It has been light for almost two hours, but dawn itself happens late. Sun still isn't up, but there's that cool golden light making very very long shadows for everything. This is all very normal for the tens of thousands of people who live in the north. For me, after almost five weeks here, it's still a strange phenomenon. It's also the first time in my life that I've been up at the crack of dawn so many days in a row.

hey, these moves are real

2008-01-10T19:39:00.001-05:00

So I've finally figured out how to really split wood. I'm short, see? So I can't get the same amount of momentum with the axe that say, my 6'4" quasi-bro-in-law can. So what I do is this little hop, just before I bring it down in an arc. It's a LOT like a WWF move, like the drop with the elbow thing. Whatever that's called.

I wish there was a picture of me going "HAAAAAAIIIIIIIII-YAH!" because I'm pretty sure I look really fierce and like I'd be able to split logs with my laser beam eyes, but this fairly mellow one will have to do:

everyone is welcome at the Whitehorse Canada Games Center!

2008-01-08T19:41:00.000-05:00

Last night we went to the pool to do a core strength workout (I just swam laps, about a kilometer) and then went up to the weight room to make our abs scream. All part of Fat Camp.

The workout room looks out over a hockey rink. My sister asked her boyfriend, "Are those guys down there?" and he absent-mindedly answered "No".

"Girls then?"

"No." (He was totally spaced out.)

"Hermaphrodites then?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly waking up, "it's the hermie hockey league."

"Chicks with dicks with sticks!"

"Right on."

still ten-fingered and ten-toed

2007-12-28T12:58:00.000-05:00

I'm doing some work from here, which means sitting in the living room in front of the wood stove in a pretty cedar-clad house looking out on the snow covered mountains and watching the sun rise very slowly while I tap away on my laptop.

Last night my sister and I were both working, and in the spirit of this great card, we had the following IM conversation while at opposite ends of the same couch.

Goose: you are doing a fine job of chopping and burning wood

Roo: thank you
I am trying
I was really really bad at it at first
you would have laughed today (when you weren't feeling freaked out about me possibly hacking off a toe or driving the axe into my leg)

Goose: did [my boyfriend] help?

Roo: he helped me not cut off my feet or split my shins

Goose: goodie

Her boyfriend is 6'4" and quite large, being also 80% lean muscle the way the rest of us are 80% water. He started me off in the wood-splitting lesson by demonstrating on a log as big around as my torso, which he split into quarters with a light tap, like separating pieces of a Terry's Chocolate Orange. He is gentle and patient, however, (not a single macho bone in his body), and there's no one better to teach you how to split wood.

My first few attempts involved sinking the blade of the axe approximately 1/8th of an inch into the dry cold wood (which should be easy to split), not really anywhere near the center of the log. By the end, I was starting to get the knack of it. There's something very satisfying about splitting wood, that crack as the wood is rent by the axe, that moment when the blade comes down through something solid. There's still a big pile out back - drop by any time and have a go.

visiting my sister is like going to fat camp

2007-12-24T20:46:00.001-05:00

Today we went for a 25km (15 mile) ski in the hills and boy, it was great. Here's high noon in Whitehorse, just after the shortest day of the year:

That's the same view where I saw my first sun dogs a few days ago but I didn't have my camera with me so you'll just have to imagine it.

Today my sister and a pal and I made it up to the Copper Haul Road. This photo looks darker than it really was, because my camera freaked out on the glow of northern sunlight on the mountains in the background and then couldn't handle the shadows here:

My sister snapped this one of me as we made our way along the ridge where the tracksetting ended and we had to make our way along ragged snowmobile tracks:

We were out for about three hours, which other than pretty much constantly moving included a few stops to snack and drink, a couple of frozen-bum pees just off the trail, and one very quick stop to re-wax. My arms are so tired that to wash my hair in the shower I had to kind of flick the shampoo up to my head from a feeble semi-raised position, and then I kind of rubbed my head into the shower tiles to build up a lather. I'd love to eat something, but can you raise the fork to my mouth? Thanks.

Happy Christmas everyone! Feed me some pudding.

disoriented

2007-12-18T13:32:00.000-05:00

Flying into Whitehorse on Wednesday night, the sky was black, the land below was black. Only a few stars, and when I looked down as we began our approach, still several miles away from town, there were very few lights below - a close match, in number and distribution, to the visible stars. In the flat air and white noise of the plane, looking out into inky blackness, it suddenly seemed to me that we were floating through space, no up, no down, no particular direction.

still cranky, blame the fourth coffee today and my delicate nervous system

2007-12-12T15:32:00.000-05:00

More things I am sick of hearing/reading:

baby steps! (usually sarcastic) - meaning: "You'll/I'll have to take it slowly, (because you're a/I'm a dork)" or sometimes: "One thing at a time, (spaz/because I'm a spaz)." Example: "I've been trying to launch this website for eight years but I keep getting it redesigned and the technology keeps changing. But you know, baby steps."

golf claps - meaning: "Congratufuckinglations!" Example: "You really shot down those Jehovah's Witnesses at the door. Golf claps."

rocking - meaning: "wearing stylishly" Example: "I was like totally rocking my new belt buckle." (Oh and I was, but can't we all start saying "I had on the best belt buckle in the world" instead?)

I am not so quietly judging you

2007-12-11T19:30:00.000-05:00

Due to cutting it a tiny bit close, then followed by unserendipitous conditions - snowfall, idiot drivers, accidents (other people) on the way, I just missed my flight to Whitehorse. The Air Canada lady was stern but civil and arranged another flight for me tomorrow morning. I even made her laugh a bit by the end, a huge victory, partly because I was about to cry. I'm a clown, you know, laughing on the outside...

I just find transitions tricky sometimes, even though I've done a bazillion of them. Change is hard, even good change. I've been to Whitehorse three times already, each time stayed for a month and loved it, but I still get emotionally spazzy just before going, just before leaving (and, some would argue, on either side and during, indefinitely). Whoot.

So getting to the point of this post: My mom (who was kindly giving me a lift to the airport, and then also, unexpectedly, from it as well) and I endured two hours in the car for a trip that should have taken 20 minutes. Just now, home at her place, I observed, "Wow mom, we both got kind of stressed and judgmental on that drive - we criticized everyone, excessively," and she replied, "Yeah, so many asshole drivers out there today." Then we laughed and laughed.

Isn't that great? Now we're pouring (more) wine.*

--------
* the first glasses sipped while our coats were still on

reminiscing

2007-12-06T22:34:00.000-05:00

Tonight's IM with clean-cut grad student friend:

Roo: when I was a kid sleep overs meant:
1) bag of hickory sticks from the bulk food store (special treat)
2) rent a movie!!!
3) sleep in the basement in sleeping bags (where tv was)
4) staying up late doing something douchey like ouija board
5) deep analysis of boys in class
6) donkey punching
ok scratch that last bit

CA: donkey punching
wow

Roo: you know what a donkey punch is right?

CA: yes
worst night of my life

dontcha wish your boyfriend was...

2007-11-29T15:59:00.000-05:00

I love Handsome Gay Boyfriend. He just took me out for a delicious lunch and a generally incensed (but frequently darkly amusing) conversation about racism, religion and the absurdities of his workplace.

After, as he was getting out of my car he said, "That lip gloss is so good. I noticed it before and I almost bit your lip, and you just put some on again, and now I have to get out of the car or I'm going to bite your face."

a flower in a cup!

2007-11-26T09:40:00.000-05:00

When I was out buying tea at the specialty shop on Thursday late afternoon, I noticed a high grade of Darjeeling, and simply had to buy a little of it out of great fondness for a certain charming British physicist I know, "Dr. Stone Cold" to his friends. Just about three years ago he wrote to me about the fine qualities of this particular variety, stating:

"A good English Breakfast is a perfectly splendid addition to anyone's tea repertoire, but really, for the ultimate in hot beverage action, you need to be looking at the Darjeeling leaf - the veritable champagne of teas. A delicate, magical scent of that goes beyond the senses."

To back up his assertions, he finished off with this quote from an illustrious authority on the matter :

"Darjeeling is truly a flower in a cup, delicately perfumed, exquisite flavour notes, so enormously satisfying, it makes me tent." - HRH, The Queen.

Just having a sip now...

phone message

2007-11-25T23:09:00.000-05:00

"Hey, it's your brother calling. Just thought that you'd be particularly interested to know that [my daughter]* just learned how to blink. Like, she learned how to blink on purpose. We actually captured a little bit of it on video and so we'll send it out soon. But it's pretty funny. Anyway. She doesn't really like it. [laughs] But she does it. I'm in crazy land but maybe we'll talk soon."

---

* i.e. My niece, who is extremely cute and is the most wide-eyed child who ever lived. She has never liked closing her eyes, because you know, even blinking means she might miss something.

like a trout to small to reach the front door handle

2007-11-23T12:55:00.001-05:00

This post is going to be all over the place. Irrelevant subject line is from an absurd mis-hearing of a Paul Weller song. You can guess what the lyric is supposed to be if you want.

Last night a close friend of my brother and sister-in-law's was in town, so I tried to play good city host. We bought specialty tea at a place in the market, went for a bite, then drove to a climbing gym that he, a climbing enthusiast, wanted to check out. (Although I would have otherwise been keen, we just looked around because I haven't slept that well the last few nights and was feeling very tired, plus it was quite late.) Then we went to his hotel where we were going to sit in the hot tub and chat but it was broken, so we went for a swim in the pool and tried for 25 minutes or so to stand on a stack of kickboards underwater. We also wore Cookie Monster water wings some kid left behind. They made kind of nice slippers.

Not much else to say. I guess it's time for another edition of "books on the back of my toilet".

Since my specialty seems to be mixing the base (going potty) with the sublime (excellent reading material), this week we have:

A Good War is Hard to Find by David Griffith - I'm not Catholic but I'll dig a good spiritually-tinged cultural analysis of the pornography of war anytime.
City of Words by Alberto Manguel - pulls in a mix of things including the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Tower of Babel, Kafka, and Atanarjuat the Fast Runner. How could you not want to just rub yourself all over this book?*

-----
*By "yourself", I mean your big throbbing brain, okay pervert?

role playing

2007-11-21T14:17:00.000-05:00

Handsome Gay Boyfriend always comes up with good ideas. Maybe this is funny to me because I've never dated an asshole like this:

Handsome Gay Boyfriend: you can be the straight guy
and I'll be the girl
and we can play stereotypical gender roles

Roo: YESSSSSS

HGB: Want to see a movie tonight snookums?
(that's me being a girl)

Roo: uh, whatever (me being the straight boy)
actually, I have to tutor

HGB: OUT OF CHARACTER

Roo: shit

HGB: You have to drink with the guys

Roo: (back in character)
i'm seeing jimmy at g o'malleys
boys nite!!!!!!!

HGB: again? Why don't you guys just fuck and get it over with.

Roo: i don't wanna see any of ur chik flicks
as if!

HGB: I'm being a liberated women

Roo: ur bein a BITFCH
BITCH

HGB: You know what.
I'm replacing you with Pedro
My vibrator. Yeah, you know the import I bought online from Tajikistan that's illegal here?
It's better than you anyway.

Roo: aw baby don't be that way

HGB: And, I'll go to the movies with my girls

Roo: come on u know I was jus joshin u

HGB: So lets see if Jimmy will let you do anal three nights a week and every second sunday after church.

Roo: baby I wuz kiddin!!!

HGB: ok I love you
Do you love me
Do you think I''m pretty?

Roo: you know I luv u and ur choclatte starfish
shur ur prettiest

HGB: Ok, I'll stay home and drink a little wine and watch TLC so that I'm loose for you when you're done with boys night
tee hee

Roo: oh baby, ur the best

HGB: No you are.
Thanks for not getting mad at me.

Roo: gril, I am gonna show u a thing or 2 2nite

HGB: Tee hee

Roo: u make me mad sometimes but stay pretty & I won't dump u

bad toast

2007-11-19T08:36:00.001-05:00

Whoever last raised a glass with me and said "Here's mud in yer eye" was a little too effective. I did the last bit of yard work last night with my new quasi-roommate and with all the mud and sticks and leaves and grass and frozen boot-smashed jack-o-lantern* and dried raccoon poo flying around, something got in there.

Either it's still lodged between my eye lid and conjunctiva or it's long gone but left a scratch that continues to feel like a grain of sand gouging up tender places.

I think my current situation could partially have something to do with my ingenious method of filling those huge brown-paper yard waste bags for the city compost,** which involves turning them upside-down and clawing upward into them, whacking the walls with my gloved hands like a trapped miner, until the top of my head hits the bottom of the sack and the thing is opened. Then I wriggle out and fill the massive thing with leaves. If I'd take off the filthy gloves before, all that whacking wouldn't result in a shower of crap flying down from them into sensitive membranes. I confess though, I sort of like standing in the front yard with a huge bag over my head (and torso and thighs).

Anyway, how about next time we just say "cheers". (I'm also open to more interesting suggestions.)

------
* thank you Chris, Thomas, and free beer

** which are very stiff and folded in such a way that makes them difficult enough to open that there are inventions to help open them and then hold them open - will update post later if I find an example online

change the channel already

2007-11-14T11:01:00.000-05:00

Roo: so, likely going to go to whitehorse for six weeks

Rik: kewl, when?

Roo: late nov
stay til mid-jan

Rik: nice and warm, then

Roo: warm and bright
if you count dusk light for four hours a day as bright
but at least you get aurora borealis

Rik: although i bet that gets old fast

Roo: yeah
it's so shitty to hang out in the takhini hot springs under aurora borealis and the starry night sky

Rik: it SOUNDS shitty
by week five you are probably "fucking aurora borealis, you glowing majestic piece of shit"
or similar

Roo: exactwally

You can't seriously expect the beauty of nature to hold my attention or elicit any rapt sense of wonder for very long. (I grew up on ADHD-inducing Sesame Street for god's sake.) Bah!

I wanted Fantasia to win from the get-go

2007-11-13T14:49:00.000-05:00

The third year of American Idol, I mysteriously and randomly stopped being a cranky hater of reality television (or whatever category AI is considered to be in) and watched it. I got religious about it, watched every show, developed emotional attachments to the contestants and their fates, talked about it, thought about it, and wished I could vote from here in Canada. I rode the wave all the way to the beach. What then? Well, Fantasia won and it was over. I never thought of it again and have missed all subsequent seasons.

Fantasia who?

Maybe it's because I'm occasionally ambivalent about blogging, or maybe it's that I've had an odd November, or maybe that once I started badly and couldn't do it "right" I lost momentum, but for whatever reason I'm just not digging into Nablopomo like I did last year.

I love the idea and think it's great so many people are doing it, but all I really want to do is go watch some more Professor Brothers. (I highly recommend both parts of Fliff Night.)

you don't know it, but you are full of stars

2007-11-12T08:24:00.000-05:00

Last year (you know, the year where I did not NaBlow it and posted every day), I came across a lot of great blogs. And until proven wrong, and though I've never met these people in the flesh, I'm going with the probability that there are real humans writing those blogs.*

A lot of those blogs are ones I still visit a couple times a week (whether their authors know it or not), but two really stand out: Isoglossia (JDS and Magda, who I am ready to have over for dinner any time) and Matt Hooker of Kentucky Waterfall fame (who painted these amazing fighting trucks, and my favourite painting of Death dancing with song birds like Snow White).

It's not just that after discovering them through NaBloPoMo I started reading both their blogs regularly -- it's that I know they read my blog too, and (apparently) come back even when I go several days without a decent post, or weakly fall back on IM conversations for content.

It seems we also semi-regularly comment on each other's stuff. These inter-blog connections make for a wonderful, odd sort of conversation, and they've been going on for a whole year. It feels like the best thing about the internet. (Followed very very closely by Brad Neely's Professor Brothers on SuperDeluxe.)

So who did you find (last year or this year) and start reading regularly? Tell me about the magic.

-----
*Thanks for raising this concern, JDS.

best compliment ever

2007-11-11T01:19:00.000-05:00

"You could invite people over for shit pie and kicks in the ass and it would still be fun somehow."

once concession for the hens destined for slaughter

2007-11-09T07:39:00.000-05:00

Regular readers will know how much I love the Dawson City Music Fest up in the Yukon every summer. A few years ago Christine Fellows played and knocked all our sock/sandal combos off.*

She just came out with a new album and there's one song I'm playing obsessively. Give it a go: The Spinster's Almanac

This doesn't count as today's post, by the way.

--------
* I don't actually wear socks with sandals (not since the mandatory Birks/socks phase in university) but have been known to consort with those who do.

I heart Gantt chearts

2007-11-08T14:30:00.000-05:00

Second day on the job (earlier this week), I got to nerd out and gross out at the same time:

Me: I found a new FREE tool that we can use to track projects. It does everything we need it to do. MS Project can blow me!

New Awesome Boss: Well!

Me: Really, MS Project can blow ALL of us.

NAB: I'll pass.
But tell Brendan he can have mine.

Me: I'll let him know.

no time. clock ticking.

2007-11-07T23:51:00.000-05:00

So what I'll do is post something about posting something to get in before the midnight deadline, and then I'll come back and revise it into the perfectly crafted flash non-fiction you're so accustomed to reading on this site. RIGHT? HUH?

-----

UPDATE:

OK, so instead of thinking about what to write about my new job, my quirky and fun new coworkers, etc... I went and read Tracie Masek's Emotional Toothpaste and found this:

I have the same rating, because I have used the word "assholes".

I guess talking about poo isn't R-rated, although "Anonymous" thinks "it sicK>."

Since I'm now in that generally scatological frame of mind, my cousin recently informed me that my brother informed HIM that as a frequently flatulent vegetarian he often goes into another room to emit a "test fart" to make sure that what he's about to off-gas in the presence of others isn't too offensive. TEST FART.

OK, off to bed. My work here is done.

if music be the food of getting things done, play on!

2007-11-06T18:23:00.001-05:00

Two songs I'm listening to obsessively while I work right now:

Chad VanGaalen's Burn 2 Ash - go have a listen.

Andrew Bird's Skin - which you can have a snip of a listen to here. It's the instrumental version of this song:

If anyone knows of a link to a streaming version of the song, lemme know so I can share.

----
UPDATE
Oh, and also the new Radiohead, which everyone is raving about. I could listen to Reckoner again and again. In fact, I do.

The new Arcade Fire is pretty good too.

My friend GWMS said he doesn't like to listen to music very much any more because it mediates and moderates his emotional landscape too much (i.e precisely why everyone else listens to music). He has narrowed his acceptable choices down to 70s heavy metal and Bach. "I have a hard time with anyone my own age or thereabouts telling me how I should feel. Bach can tell me how I should feel because he's old and long-dead."

NaBlo(wn) it

2007-11-05T14:40:00.000-05:00

NaBloPoMo. Last year I did it. Didn't miss a day. This year I signed up pretty early, but this is my first post and it's already November 5. Yup, I've nablown it.

How it happened (if you care):

Nov 1 - up late finishing a contract; failed to post before midnight, cursed self, shook fists impotently at the heavens

Nov 2 - very busy day of long-delayed now urgent errands, then picked up friend at airport arriving here from Whitehorse, picked up two more friends, bourbon was poured, dinner was eaten, wine was poured, more bourbon was poured, unruly and progressively more bewildering game of Settlers of Catan, blonde wigs, cookies tossed (literally, dark chocolate Le Petit Ecolier strewn across the table), bed at 4, nablopowhuuuuuuut?

Nov 3 - have mercy, watched Jesus Camp on couch with pals, wept for America and those poor kids

Nov 4 - too depressed about missing first three days entirely, helped friend clean stove top with Q-tips while yapping together about interesting things, helped ESL friend with homework, went for delicious sushi, thought about tackling yesterday's dishes in sink

Nov 5 - started new job where my office is in the sunlit attic of a renovated and gorgeous old farmhouse surrounded by forests and fields, friends (now also coworkers) threw me a welcome lunch with delicious sandwiches and salad and Jim Beam and homemade pie, fell to knees in gratitude for the sweetness of life

I was born to love you, I was born to lick your face

2007-10-28T12:02:00.000-05:00

At some point I'll write something about the weekend in NYC, but because I'm cleaning up my festering sty of a house and later doing yard work because it's leaf pick-up tomorrow (city compost program), thought I'd take (yet another) lame shortcut and just post the contents of a scrap of paper I just found in my home office (so I can throw it out at last).

It's all stuff I wrote down (inexplicably) while watching Caddyshack with some of my best boy friends a year or so ago. (I mean boy friend in the most platonic, least romantic way - they're all married and I'm friends with their wives too.) We were drinking beer. It was someone's birthday.

Most are movie quotes, some are... god knows what.

Oh my god I love the smell of beer in someone's hair.

Want to earn $14 the hard way?

I enjoy skinny-skiing and going to bull fights on acid.

I feel like $100.

Oh, rat farts! stage notes: then is struck by lightning.

Ugly bags of mostly water.

I thought you'd be the man to beat this year.
I guess you'll just have to keep beating yourself.

If you wanna rap, just talk, or get weird with someone...

I have to get inside this dude's pelt and crawl around for a few days.

Note to self: Johnny Captain Reverend, make gopher out of clay for Tom.

In the words of Jean Paul Sartre, "au revoir, gophair". [ed. note: thanks, isoglossia - so much better.]

breaking up is hard to do

2007-10-27T11:54:00.000-05:00

Friday was my last day on the job at a place I've worked for three years. Here's what I sent out to friends and family on Thursday. Since this group largely comprises my blog readership, I apologize for the repeat, but enough people have said "post it!" that I feel I must bow to my public's demands.

----------------

Subject: break up

Hi all,

Sorry for a mass email but I figured this was the easiest way to spread a simple message: My work-assigned BlackBerry and I are breaking up on Friday.

It has been a reasonably supportive, occasionally fun relationship, but I suppose I knew in my gut from the start that it wasn't going to last. I did love its full QWERTY keyboard and how I could read clever Salon articles from bed with it, but it was also a very demanding, high-maintenance romance. It would nag me do work when I was supposed to be relaxing, and it would pressure me, weekends and evenings, into answering silly questions I wasn't always ready to answer, like "Can you resize the award graphic so that it's a 150x75 pixel JPEG and send it to a disorganized coworker in the next fifteen minutes?"

It just felt a bit needy, you know?

I haven't told it yet, but if I can make a guess based on my experiences with it, it will take the news with its usual sociopathic, plastic aplomb and move on without so much as a glance back at me.

In fact, I confess without any bitterness in my heart that I fully expect my BlackBerry and its phone number xxx-xxx-xxxx to get involved with one of my current co-workers within days, if not minutes of our break-up. (It's a serial monogamist and hates to be alone.) Just thought I'd warn you all that calling it or sending text messages to that number will fall into the wrong hands as of Friday October 26 (5 PM EST).

My boss here, on the other hand, (the one who set us up in the first place) already knows I'm leaving - I told him three weeks ago. I'm heading off to work with some fun, kind, and very talented people at a terrific, successful little publishing house. They produce best-selling and award-winning books and DVDs on outdoor activities - stuff that's really much more up my alley than software. I'm thrilled about the prospect of being thrilled about my work every morning. I start with them November 5.

I'll likely get involved with a new cell phone sometime in the next few weeks - probably something more straightforward, less demanding, and less techy than the old BB. Maybe a cheap rebound affair with something cute, easy-going, and a bit dumb. Let me know if you want the new number when I get it. In the meantime, I can be reached at this email address or at home xxx-xxx-xxxx.

Don't worry about me though - I think I'm going to be okay with this break-up. It feels right.

Roo

p.s. My old work emails will also be defunct very shortly - please delete these from your address books asap.

Then, lucky for me, the responses started coming in, including:

1)

"...a cheap rebound affair with something cute, easy-going, and a bit dumb"...and no doubt, super hot in the sack! I didn't want to say anything, but I always thought of that BB as being a lugubrious piece of twaddle anyways.

Dave

Hi R,

I'm sorry to hear about your break up.... as it leaves me with a difficult choice... who will I be friends with after this whole ordeal. I'm sorry but, even though I liked you guys together, I like your partner better.... so I'm going to keep emailing interesting stuff to it. I hope you aren't mad or angry about this.....

Sorry, but I really must speak with my heart here.

Michael

And then 5 minutes later:

ahhh, I miss you already, screw you stupid blackberry, I want to be your friend.

Hey R,

I'm so sorry to hear this tragic news! If it's any consolation, from what little I had seen of you two, I had a feeling that you were just not right for each other.

The next few weeks are probably going to be quite difficult for you. Try to spend more time with your QWERTY-equipped computer, and any other electronic devices that will help keep your mind off your loss. Losing something as close to you as a phone can be as difficult as dealing with a death. Remember to take the time to grieve, and I urge you not to try to compensate for your loss by picking up some cheap, pay-as-you-go tart, tempting as that may seem on those lonely nights - believe me, it will only lead to more heartache. Now is a time for you to reflect and to consider what you have learned from this experience.

Maybe you will just never find happiness with a BlackBerry(?) Maybe even all cell phones will eventually lead you to the same pit of dejection. Just remember that in this day and age, it's still quite acceptable to have just a land-line... a intermediate fling with a cordless phone (when you are feeling emotionally ready for a change) may help ease you through that transition if you chose to pursue that avenue.

Thanks for letting me know about this - I have already deleted your BlackBerry number from my phone list, which will spare everyone the uncomfortable situations that may arise were I to accidentally dial that number after tomorrow.

Anyhoo, I just wanted to pass on my warmest wishes to you in these difficult times. Keep the wind at your back, a song in your heart, and some sort of vibrating device in your pocket.

take care,
Adrian

4)

and the more succinct:

go get yourself laid, it will make you feel better.
mikey

5) and finally, from the always helpful isogloss, this wonderful suggestion:

Maybe you could let it down easy by going to this Dear John Letter Generator.

weighing in

2007-10-25T13:30:00.000-05:00

Roo: I really think Victoria Beckham is dull and ugly
she looks weird

Super Gord: agreed

Roo: and I think she's really boring
like SO boring
have you ever heard her say anything interesting even once?

Super Gord: nopers

Roo: plus her hair is stupid

Super Gord: her face is stupid

Roo: her walk is stupid
her hunky husband is definitely stupid, in case there's any doubt
and he has a stupid voice
"I'm buying clothes and pouting!"
"I'm pretending to play soccer!"
"I'm in the latest fashions and have someone do my stupid hair every morning!"
"I'm concentrating on growing my facial hair in a way that accentuates my cheekbones but looks totally unplanned!"

Super Gord: lol

Roo: they must have fascinating conversations
almost as good as this one

Super Gord: sorry, I have to work

Roo: ok, I will work now too

the semiotics of love-slaves

2007-10-24T10:51:00.001-05:00

My NYC travelling companion, a friend who's in grad school, asked me to read I was Michel Foucault's love slave out loud for our entertainment a few evenings ago, as we were winding down from a fun day in The City. One line in particular made me laugh so hard that I choked, wheezed and fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

The wheezing was because this article reminded me vividly of hanging out years ago in the basement of a shared student house* on West 11th in Vancouver with my theory-slurping roommates (handsome, lovable Chris; aloof, charismatic Martin) -- both lightning-witted and hysterically funny, if a little self-serious about their studies.

Who were they always battling about? I recall lengthy debates involving Wittgenstein (mostly Martin) and Derrida (mostly Chris). Folks like Butler, and even the notoriously impenetrable Bhabha were sprinkled in for good measure. But that's not all. We might as well have put out an extra place setting at every dinner for Foucault, (the way many Jews do for Elijah at Passover), so often was Michel's name mentioned (reverentially, authoritatively) over cheap meals of vegetarian chili and vats of South American wine, (the latter of which we often consumed until nothing we said made any sense -- if, indeed, it ever did -- and it was time for an inebriated mock-battle conducted from table tops and standing on the backs of the tatty living room furniture, or a dance-off performed in the dark and mirror-like reflection of our uncurtained, massive picture window). Oh, Michel, how could we not be in love? Look at the man:

(My aforementioned friend in grad school sent me the above pic with the comment "this photograph commands a reevaluation of my so-called orientation".)

----
*Painted robin's egg blue, and in many places un-insulated, as we discovered one night when we drunkenly and collectively kicked a hole in the wall, before tumbling in a mass of arms and legs to the bottom of the stairs, like the little assholes we were.

sore thumbs

2007-10-17T13:55:00.000-05:00

Conversation earlier today with my traveling companion for this weekend's trip to NYC:

CA: do you think that we will be leaving at 12:00

Roo: yes

CA: great
i will wash my undies and socks tonight
and place them in 4 or 5 grocery bags tied together

Roo: I have a surprise for you. not that big a surprise so don't get excited

CA: is it a green garbage bag?
a Saskatchewan suitcase?
please

Yeah, Canadians travel in style. A few years ago I went to Europe to wander around and stare at people carrying baguettes and eating fine cheeses. An expat friend of mine living in the UK begged me not to bring a single item of fleece or Gore-Tex, and for heaven's sake, bring some jaunty scarves.

So this weekend I'm finally taking up some folks on their standing invites to come crash on their couches and explore New York.

First stop will be Kripalu on the way down, to visit a Canadian friend who for immigration purposes is officially classified as a nun. You know, a yoga nun.

Then we're off to NYC to see some people I love and haven't seen in a while. One is a personal assistant to a celebrity chef, one is a cellist/architect, one is a urban hipster who once designed suede bikinis for local celebrities with "mailslot" holes meant to show off "ass cleavage". Sadly, we'll be missing the German cardiologist who has very good stories about working in the ER in Berlin, back in the day.

"No, doctor, no idea. I really have no idea what's causing the abdominal pain.... What? The x-ray showed a small vibrator lodged at the end of my large intestine?"

Anyway, we'll be the ones carrying around our socks and undies in grocery bags, possibly wearing jaunty scarves. Keep an eye out.

reactions to me showing up at work sick with a cold

2007-10-15T14:12:00.000-05:00

"Hello! Wow! You look like shit!"

"Stay away from me. Don't touch anything. ANYTHING."

"Hey there snottyface!"

"It's actually hard to talk to you seriously when you look so high."

(I would have stayed home and worked from there but I'm on a deadline and the cursed VPN wasn't working properly. No choice!)

----
UPDATE: Sadly, I've only just realized that the most appropriate response to any of the above would have been "LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!"

reactions to "I quit"

2007-10-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

"I'm professionally devastated but personally thrilled for you."

"What? Are you kidding? I can't tell if you're kidding because your sarcastic jokey voice is the same as your regular voice."

"Yeah, right on, get out of this hell hole."

hearty recommendation

2007-10-09T10:10:00.000-05:00

Have something to say? Some E-Cards (with the tag line when you care enough to click send) makes it even easier.

Maybe I should send this one to Melvellous (who is no longer my fabulous white-haired sometimes-roommate, but is still, apparently, my personal astrologer):

Ow, it stings:

What can I say, it's like, totally true:

And so is this, doll:

limits

2007-10-05T15:07:00.000-05:00

New Friend (NF): A coworker who doesn't know me that well who is working on the same study sent me an e-mail with the following closer.
"Happy Thanksgiving.* Try not to eat too much, you may get fatter"
WTF??
Now, her first language is french
so I'm giving her abit of leeway
but WTF all the same

Roo: fucking whore
I think that is horrible and inappropriate in any language
to say that to anyone**

NF: I agree
I should write back "Happy Thanksgiving, try not to sleep around, you may become more of a WHORE!"

Roo: or to NOT get fired, write back
"Happy Thanksgiving, try not to drink too much, you might find yourself saying mean things to nice people."

NF: hahaha
you're good

Roo: it's subtle, yet NOT
and won't get you fired

NF: Just so you know
I can't get fired

Roo: why?

NF: In the past 4 years
this place has fired 16 people
out of over 5000
And they were all criminally related

Roo: hahahahhaa

NF: smuggling
document forgery
etc

Roo: hilarious
hire me

NF: One guy they tried to fire because he literally took off all of his clothes because he was high on crystal meth at work
and ran around the office naked
and they couldn't fire him
instead they had to give him better shifts and more vacation time
as they were obviously putting too much strain on him

Roo: wow

NF: my boss finally forced a woman into medical retirement (that was the best he could get, he couldn't get her fired)
because she didn't come into work for 11 years

Roo: hire me

NF: ELEVEN YEARS

Roo: this is the funniest thing I've ever heard

NF: Then she fought to get her vacation pay paid out
For the time she WASN'T WORKING
And she won that too
We have the strongest unions EVAR
I could shit into my hand, then throw that shit all over my office
Then run around smearing it everywhere
and it would somehow get me more vacation time

Roo: do it. see if you can get a couple extra weeks.

---
* You know, Canadian Thanksgiving.
** Mom, Dad, the irony is not lost on me, and I apologize for not using my vocabulary.

(her birthday is on F to the RIDAY)*

2007-10-03T13:16:00.000-05:00

Roo: I'm also psyched because a surprise for you just arrived

Amy: traditionally you order the stripper to the birthday person...

Roo: whoops
how much money do you want me to stick in his thong then? I'll pretend to be you, I promise

Amy: coins are more interesting

Roo: good call

----
* her words

take a look at where I'm going

2007-10-01T23:02:00.000-05:00

I know my posts have been sporadic and lame lately (except for the "8 letters exclusiv") but I've had a lot on my mind.

So hey, I quit my job. Go click that link and hear a terrific little song played in the clawhammer style that I do with such gusto but in such a mediocre--yet enjoyable--way.

As a sidebar, I wrote to Chris Luedecke (the guy who wrote it) asking for a tab for "I Quit My Job" and and he wrote back to say he didn't have a tab but here are some detailed instructions on how to play it, key and chords. Sweet guy! He was at the DCMF this year. He made everyone stomp their dusty feet on the wooden floor of an old wild-west church, without even asking. We couldn't help ourselves.

So I did it today. I quit.

Then, experiencing a bit of giddiness and tumult and aching heart, I went to a friend's for tea (thank you) to settle the hell down, (my cheeks still hot from talking with my boss).

Then I went to the place where I volunteer and worked with some kids on their homework (alliteration, some math, and a short story).

Then I went to a friend's place where her visiting Italian (soon-to-be-lover?) friend from Milan made risotto - the best I've ever had.

Then we all practiced signatures and shared our bad photo ID with each other.

It was more fun than it sounds. All of it.

Now I'm going to go dream about living in a way that doesn't make me rot from the inside.

In the meantime, go enjoy the sensual sounds of the Modern Men.

just like old file names

2007-09-28T15:21:00.001-05:00

Roo: nothing is obvious in this uncertain world

CA: everything is obvious in this heavily defined world

Roo: contrarian!
(if you answer "no I'm not", I get to punch you in the mouth)

CA: big word user

Roo: phew! you're off the hook
as for big words, look who's talking

CA: what! i use words that are 8 letters or less exclusiv

a different kind of scanner darkly

2007-09-20T16:01:00.001-05:00

Also from last year, that time I scanned my face.

apparently he's married to "a Lacanian supermodel"

2007-09-16T22:44:00.000-05:00

Chris, thanks for introducing me to Zizek, the Slovenian sociologist madman who twitches and spits.

Oh, alright, one more:

one of the big questions

2007-09-15T09:52:00.001-05:00

Another long lull in the posting here, huh? The QA team has been napping out back by the dumpster, the writers are all spent from tapping out sordid emails to pals.

Here's one I just got:

i have girl problems.
why do I go months without getting my pickle waxed and inside of a week two chicks try to drag me off to the sack with promise of unspeakable things?

I have no answers. All I know is that I like the expression "pickle waxing".

I can still feel that smell

2007-09-09T15:18:00.000-05:00

lavish whaaaa...?

2007-09-07T13:17:00.000-05:00

From the Wall Street Journal, a couple of years ago:

"Some people are just into lavish dwarf entertainment," says the 4-foot-2 Danny Black, a part-owner in Shortdwarf.com, an outfit that rents dwarfs for parties starting at $149 an hour. Mr. Black says he spent part of [a March 2003] weekend on the yacht and worked as a waiter on the Friday night at a high-end Miami eatery alongside what he called "regular size" people. "A good time was had by all," he said, declining to provide further details.

make a choice

2007-09-06T16:06:00.000-05:00

Look, what do you want from me, original compositions and occasional flickers of wit, insight and wonder? Or do you want a conversation between me and my pal about his farty baby? I knew it! OK, I'll comply, here you go:

The Dude says: She [5 1/2 mth old daughter] cracks me up
all the time
Roo says: she has attitude?
The Dude says: not really, she grunts and farts a lot
like A LOT
she stinks
but otherwise is lovely
Roo says: really?
farts a lot?
make sure that's in her baby book
The Dude says: a ton
people comment on it too
plus, baby farts aren't supposed to stink, but hers do
like crazy
she's quite thoroughly disgusting
but cute as a button
Roo says: that's great
man, I want to post this
The Dude says: you can, just change the names to protect the flatulent

face and pants

2007-08-30T12:56:00.000-05:00

My older sister and I had a really important discussion about making up nicknames and agreed on two general guidelines.

1. Appending "pants" to a word can result in a playful, affectionate nickname.

2. Appending "face" to almost any word will more often result in an insulting, derisive nickname.

Examples:

fartpants (teasing!) vs fartface (you're an asshole!)
chattypants (isn't it cute how talkative you are!) vs chattyface (STFU)
monkeypants (oh, you're just adorable) vs monkeyface (consider a career in radio)

I'm sorry, that's all I've got for you. Now I'm blowing town for five days.

By all means, feel free to contribute your own charming examples in the comments while I go play at the cottage and swim with my sisters and drink delicious St. Ambroise beer on big hunks of tree-dappled, sun-warmed granite.

extremely Canadian

2007-08-27T13:55:00.000-05:00

Here's an explanation; here are the lyrics:

The Log Drivers' Waltz
If you should ask any girl from the parish around
What pleases her most from her head to her toes
She'll say, "I'm not sure that it's business of yours
But I do like to waltz with a log driver".

Chorus
For he goes birling down a-down the white water
That's where the log driver learns to step lightly
It's birling down, a-down white water
A log driver's waltz pleases girls completely.

When the drive's nearly over, I like to go down
To see all the lads while they work on the river
I know that come evening they'll be in the town
And we all want to waltz with a log driver.

To please both my parents I've had to give way
And dance with the doctors and merchants and lawyers
Their manners are fine but their feet are of clay
For there's none with the style of a log driver.

I've had my chances with all sorts of men
But none is so fine as my lad on the river
So when the drive's over, if he asks me again
I think I will marry my log driver.

farewell to the world's only reliable newspaper

2007-08-27T12:18:00.000-05:00

Yup, it's true. No more World Weekly News, i.e. no more reports of alien Elvis babies suckling at Osama bin Laden's Satanic goat teat.

what you need

2007-08-24T10:02:00.001-05:00

My sister called me from Whitehorse yesterday morning to read the following classified ad to me:

ongoing, unmanned garage sale

ducting
rototiller
concrete pad
1980 Toyota parts
1967 Chevy S10 parts
screen door
army cot
sheet tin
and more!

mile 12 Carcross Road
by donation

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