Wednesday, December 12, 2007


I'm sitting here in the library at school while the rest of Survey Research and Data Analysis writes their year end exam.  With an exam I was NOT at all prepared for an a paper I am nowhere near done due friday night, there seemed to be little point in bothering.  I hemmed and hawed to myself all morning.  Now, as we know, I've pulled many a last-minute paper out of my arse in my three year academic career.  These papers were forged in coffee, cigarettes, junk food, tears, upset stomach and lost sleep and lost time with my children.  I sat up at nights entranced by the computer screen as I wrenched every last little bit of inspiration from my brain that would scream for relief.  Said assignments were also written in desperation as I faced the horrifying possibility of failing, and becoming a career convenience store clerk under a magnificent student loan debt.  It paid off, I'm a BA in Sociology.  There's no doubt.  I *could* finish this paper. 

With that little piece of paper, I lost my motivation.  Fear.  I took the summer off and lost my momentum.  I became accustomed to a relaxed lifestyle.  I rediscovered the children, and my hobbies and interests.  I came to the realization that over the three years I went to school full time, it was my life.  But when I attempted to work part time, and only had class one day a week, I only thought about school that one night a week.  Or, possibly, the night before.

Today I asked myself a few questions.  Can I get this last paper done?  as above, the answer was yes.  But my nagging voice came up and said 'But I don't WANT to".  So, after much deliberation, and a heart-to-heart with my Dad <3 I found myself leaning more and more to doing what I wanted as opposed to what I felt I should do.  Still, I made the drive down to school, and I walked into the class, and with increasing intensity I asked myself "Why am I here?  It's obvious, (by the fact that I spent the afternoon leading up to the exam reading the paper instead of studying) that I've already made up my mind."  I gave my notes to a girl in my class who had lost hers (it was to be an open book test), and walked out.  And I cried.

Ever spent so much time deliberating on a decision that when you make up your mind, to the point where it's too late to turn back, it's like a dam breaks inside of you?  That's how I'm feeling right now, it's a mixture of relief and regret.  Relief because I can go home, have dinner with my kids, and do what ever I want after they go to bed, completely guilt free.  I probably should mention that I already decided, due to financial reasons, not to return to for the next year or so.  Which added to my "What's the point?" mentality. 

I plan to return to school eventually, but right now, I have nothing left to give.  I don't have disatisfaction with my life to motivate me, I like my job and the place where I am at, in general.  I feel that I need to regroup, and regain my passion for learning, which is something I feel is better kindled in a full-time scholarly environment.  Go Big or Go Home.  Right now, academic politics in my institution prevents me from full-time education, at least, without a lot more pointless debt.  When this fourth-year program BS gets sorted out, maybe I'll be in a better mindframe to return.

I think the regret right now lies in the example I'm setting for my kids.  I mean, I don't have much to lose through this decision, other than the 500 bucks I plunked down for the course.  Even as a single mother in social housing, I can say, it's just money.  What is money compared to mental well-being?
But I regret what my kids may think of their mother because of this, down the road I mean.  As of this moment, I've failed, if only one course.  Failure is a difficult enough thing to deal with.  I've never been a real go-getter, but I'm accustomed to knowing that when I putting my mind to something, I generally accomplish it.  But in general, I'm okay with it.

My shame comes in knowing that I bear the full responsibility for this outcome.  It was a fairly easy course, even though I'm not a math person.  Richard Rinaldo was a fantastic prof on the subject, so I don't fault him at all.  I can be lazy as fuck,is all, and this time it caught up with me. It's not so much failure, but I sit here, knowing, that I didn't do my best.  Had I applied myself, to put it colloquially, I could have made this course my bitch.  But I didn't.  Everytime this semester that I told Tierney she needed to do her homework, I felt like a hypocrite, as my papers went unwritten until the 11th hour.  Hell, until the 19th or 20th hour, this time around.  The one paper I DID write was 10 days late.

I'm not going to beat myself up about this, no.  I've accomplished a lot up to this point, this is merely a setback.  I just worry about what the girls will think down the road... will they see me as someone who just gave up when the going got tough?  Or someone who put her own personal happiness ahead of what is 'expected'... practicing the old adage 'to thine own self be true?"

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Attention Fashion Industry!!!


Seriously, it's time for y'all to put the pipe down, put your collective heads together and come up with some sort of universal sizing system, because it's getting effin ridiculous.

How is this:

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a medium, yet this:

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is a motherloving 3XL?

Thursday, November 15, 2007

a moment of maternal genius...

Sometimes I question my own abilities as a mother... am I too harsh? too lenient? Do I favour one child over the other? are my rules too arbitrary? etc etc etc.

Today I had a moment that made me take a moment to pat myself on the back.

Oftentimes as happens when there are two kids, disagreements arise... what to have for dinner, what movie to watch, who gets the purple cup, who gets to carry the cat poo to the garbage chute (yes, my kids are weird) and so forth. For a long time I solved this with the 'pick a number between 1 and 10' strategy. This had to stop because

a) Reegs only ever picked 1 or 10
b) The time would eventually come, I figured, where one of them would accuse me of picking after the fact, so that one would win.

That's when I remembered the laws of probability and the good-old fashioned art of coin-flipping. Decisions seemed much more fair now. However, there was a problem in that generally, who ever lost would have a fit (generally, the little one, the bigger one was better at understanding that 'fair is fair'.)

My stunning ingenious alteration to this strategy? NOW, whomever loses the coin toss, gets to keep the coin and put it in their piggy bank.


ahhh, peace and harmony for pennies a day. Well, mostly :-P

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Gotchie Blog

It amazes me sometimes how the little things can throw me into a state of indescribable happiness.

I bought new underwear.

About 10 months ago, I had made plans for some dirty boy company, and decided to purchase some new gotchies for the occasion. I got a bra (which had unfortunately not lasted much more than three months, it's still in my drawer, waiting for me to get off my duff and sew the strap back together) and two pairs of black undies, one a simple bikini with a cherry design, and the other a pair of lace trimmed hipsters.

Little did I know those hipsters would prove to be the most comfortable AND sexy-good-feeling inducing underoos I would ever own.

I went back a week or two later determined to get more. They were out of stock. So I made do with the one pair I had, kicking myself for not picking up more at the time.

Today I shop and DEAR GOD, they are back in stock, so I picked up a pair in every available color in my size, as the original pair is getting rough from having been worn and washed once a week, every week, for the last 10 months. I tell you, lacy-underpants-day was ALWAYS the best day of the week. And now I have FIVE of them.


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Underpants - more than just ass-coverage.

Oh yeah, let this pic also be a testament to how friggin baggy my pants have gotten..YAY!!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Someone might have saved my life....

My car is not in great shape. I drive a four-door white 1991 pontiac sunbird. It currently is without it's left headlight.

The other day as I travelled down to Barrie, I noticed up ahead of me, turning onto a concession road from the opposite direction, another white fourdoor 1991 pontiac sunbird on the road, also missing the right headlight.

The thought occured to me: What if I just witnessed myself from the future, or some other alternate reality driving down that road? What if it was me in the future, attempting to save my life in some way.. maybe they were driving back to my house to change the batteries in my smoke detector, or making some effort to change the past to save me from calamtity. and in my/her travels took back roads in hopes that I wouldn't see, and possibly tear a hole in the time space continuum. Maybe future me was travelling to midland to take out a mugger or rapist would have otherwise attacked me later that night had my futuristic doppelganger not intervened on my behalf.

This fascinating and surreal supposition gave way to a more depressing possibility. In the future, when humankind holds the power of time travel in it's hands... Am I still going to be driving that damn SUNBIRD???? (considering I don't think I'll be harnessing the power of timetravel in the next year or two).

Geeez. In that case, the future SUCKS.

The evolution of what?

I saw a billboard on a bus today, and it literally made me laugh out loud.  Emblazoned across the top were the words "The Evolution of Rock95 [rock 95 being our local rock station]"

Underneath these words was a series of stylized photographs depicting, in this order John Lennon, Mick Jagger, Gene Simmons of KISS, John Bon Jovi, and Chad Kroeger of Nickelback.

I'm pretty sure the intention involved a sort of generational 'tying-together' - although the use of Jagger AND Lennon is problematic considering they were contemporaries, so that kind of blows the intergenerational thing.

The humour to be found here lies in the billboard's subtext.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in this case it needs only about 10.  With this picture, they might as well be saying

"The Evolution of Rock95 - We used to be cool, but now we kinda suck."

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

For Chris...

So, I'm not much of a pot smoker. I don't like drinking/smoking by myself, I like it as a social thing. Thing is, pot makes me notably UN-social. I'm a sleeper, or I turn inwards to myself. Thoughts come to me at a rapid pace, but far too fast for them to reach my mouth, before I have another rapid thought. Either that, or I feel as though I AM actually saying things out loud, when I'm not. It's like the opposite of having no inner monologue. More like my inner monologue EATS my voice.

It is on record that I once, on one of the rare occurences that I do indulge in the weed, went for nearly two hours without speaking a word. My sister, and two of my friends, one child-free weekend (the sister and I used to co-ordinate weekends so we had the same weekends without kids) were sitting around as per usual, and this evening I had opted to partake when they offered the pipe, after probably around 8 months since my previous indulgence.

We were playing this card game we had dubbed '12-step' as it involves collecting cards in different formation, for 12 rounds. For 2 hours (because it's a godawfully long game) we sat, the sister giggled, both friends giggled, they made fun observations while I steadfastly concentrated on my cards, occasionally grunting in assent or uttering an absent-minded 'heh'.

It was a saturday so it was classic rock saturday night. Every song that came on my sister would cry 'oooooh I LOVE this SONG!' At one point a song came on and after her declaration of love for the song, there was discussion as to what the song was called

"Oooooh! I love this song! What's it called?"
"I don't know, who does it?"
"I think it's Jethro Tull, but I don't know the name!"

Blah blah blah the game goes on. I have remained in my silence for this exchange, while the wheels in my brain worked. After what seemed like 2-3 minutes to me, but what must have been closer to 30 minutes later, I have a brainstorm.


The table stops. Everyone is staring at me, like I have snakes crawling out of my eye sockets. My sister looks shocked and says "What?" I look her dead in the eye.


A chorus of "what the hell are you TALKING ABOUT?" I myself, don't see what is so difficult to understand, so I turn to the others and more vehemently


Now they're totally weirded out, thinking that, I can only assume, that I've totally lost my mind. I haven't spoken in two hours and now, a half hour after it's no longer relevent, I come out with this non-sequitor, single word phrase. Looking down at my cards I shrug.

"That was the name of the song"

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Channeling Dionysus

This weekend I seem to be living out the philosophy of eat, drink and be merry. I've not had such a relaxing couple days in a while.

Friday night, my friend Sam came up, having made the suggestion about a week ago that he come up and we have a Sam'n'Andie night. Having been ages since the last time I had company step foot into my apartment, I came home and got the place cleaned up to a suitable level for company, grabbed some sushi and a bottle of wine for my dinner, ate, had an hour-long bitch session with the sister about workstuffs and then headed down to Barrie to grab sam and get him up here, on the offer of gas money for my efforts.

Got back to the apt. gave him the tour, and we had a couple of drinks and watched some sex and the city (season two). About midnight I convinced him we should make the trek downtown ("Is it walking distance?" "I've walked there before, if that's what you mean.") and I could show him the Midland night life. About 40 minutes later we get to Shanana's which actually has a line-up for a change. All the people who are up for Thanksgiving weekend I guess. It's a big deal up here in cottage country.

We go over to Cellarmans, to try and get some food, but the kitchen is closed and the crowd is all 20 year olds, so I suggest Scully's and it's totally closed. So we hit Tim Hortons for a sammich, and I embarass the counter girl (not maliciously, I just asked her if she thought sam was hot. Her reply? "I don't know if I'm allowed to answer that")

we go back to Nana's, hitting the bank on the way, where I stupidly leave my card in the machine, which I don't realized until late last night. This time I get there and I know the doorman and he lets us in, though they're at capacity (That's right. I'm people who KNOWS people.) We got there in time to have a couple of drinks, and to check out the guys in the club, and to note that somebody turned the big screen TV to showcase or bravo or some such channell -- it usually plays the hockey game or something -- so while the place is packed with people dancing, there's softcore porn up on this giant screen. It was all very surreal, as nobody except me, sam, and this guy scott that I went to school with seemed to notice. I think his name was scott, anyway.

A guy I had a brief but fun make-out session with one new years eve, but who refuses to acknowledge me up until very recently (the guy has a kid in my daughters class last year... AWKWARD!) was there, and I waved, because sometimes I'm sadistic like that, and LIKE making them feel uncomfortable. Well, it was wierd because he kind of nodded then backed away, then next I know, he's passing behind me, and brushes right up against me and I look at Sam like "What the hell was THAT?" But I left it alone after that.

We leave not too long after last call, have a nice chat with Kenny and Wanda on the way out (the manager and one of the security staff) and grab a cab home (as we are both three sheets to the wind at this point, and the walk home is still forty minutes, but UPHILL the whole way now) Come back, finish the wine, watch more sex and the city and pass out. I felt bad, because since I passed out I hadn't grabbed pillows and blankets for the futon, which I had cleaned specifically for company.

Next morning, we got up, feeling pretty rough, and I drove him back down to barrie. Power was out all over midland, so we had to wait until elmvale to grab breakfast. Waited 20 minutes in the McDonalds for an allegedly "Fast"-food breakfast that sat none too well in our poor hungover stomachs. I had plans to stay in barrie all day until I was supposed to go to 55 special for a friends birthday, was going to go to the school and get some work done, but I figured fuck it, I'd go home, then come back later. The money i'd spend on gas would probably be less than the money I'd spend trying to entertain myself in Barrie all day long.

Came home, and did sweet dick-all all day except Myspace, facebook, watch movies and scrapbook. absolutely freaking blissful. around 6ish, I decided I needed more supplies for the scrapbooking and headed out for the dollar store. I had asked my friend derek if he wanted to coffee after. It was at the dollar store that I realized I couldn't find EITHER of my bank cards, having lost the other one a few days earlier. Having less than half a tank of gas in my car, I realized that I probably shouldn't go to barrie if I have to make my cash (which was diminished by then) last until tuesday when I can get to the bank again.

So Derek and I meet up at the bay street timmies, exchanging anecdotes and whatnot for the next two hours, and I'm contacted by another friend, nic, who is having a sort of mini-houswarming at his place, so I decide after coffee is done, that I'll head over there. I get there as people are leaving but I have a pretty good time chatting it up with Nic, another friend/acquaintance Justin, and Michelle, a very outspoken, exuberant but generally fun co-worker of Nics, until about 1am, when I decided to toddle off home and get some sleepy sleepy.

So here I sit in my underwear, in need of a bath, and prepping to go get my kids so we can have a Thanksgiving 'Let's having chicken and call it turkey' dinner, as the rest of my family made plans without me this year, which kind of irks me, I'll admit. They're having a "Meet the Fokkers" night.. Nicky and Frank are having a dinner so our parents can meet Frank's parents. No siblings allowed.

So I'm off to soak for a bit.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

It’s 3:15 am, my time.

Andie is a little buzzed tonight, a bizarre combination of rye and Tim Hortons Coffee. Oh Tim, if you weren't a corpse, probably no more than bones at this time, I would make sweet sweet love to you. A little buzzed and very cold.

The baseball banquet was more fun than expected, dinner surpassing dessert in the yum category, chicken covered in all manner of seasoning, and broiled potatoes with a tangy lemon suggestion. There was dancing and door prizes. I'm the proud owner of a glass cutting board and insulated wine bottle. Being a woman's league, there was not an eligible male in sight, with the possible exception of the DJ, and both K and I commented on his gawkish cuteness, but neither bothered to investigate further. Oh, the road not taken.

We coffee, and convinced by my good friend Danno, we are guided to the entrance to the very pit of hell, but in P-tang, they call it Yorkies. There are bars that girls drag their boyfriends to, and this is a bar that guys drag their girlfriend too. Or in our case, their very understanding female friends. or as K put it, their awesome understanding female friends. As I then said, their 'going above and beyond the call of duty awesome understanding female friends' *looks pointedly at Danno*

For a bribe of two rounds, we keep him company. The band is alright, but I've heard better. They can handle Stevie Ray, which is admirable, but then proceed to eff up something as simple as Third Eye Blind. "might have been a request" I surmise. A man who smells of onions .... yes, ONIONS.... says he heard a rumour we could dance ("it would be awesome, if we could dance... "it's been running through my head all day). Dan gets the kiss of death (the kiss of death is chaste, given to the foreheadal area) and I say 'Never again."

Sit in Timmies parking lot, Bob has joined us. It's cold but conversation is plentiful, even for almost 2 am. Watching police pulling over errant drivers, I'm glad my car is at home. It gets colder, coversation dies down, as the caffiene rushes rush off. We part ways.

At home, I have two messages, both from sam, one is the boy, one is the girl. My cat is being nocturnal and chasing imaginary ghosts, perhaps evil spirits dragged from the bar called Yorkies, but I call sketchy. I'm cold and tired and tomorrow is another day.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The Art of Axl (originally posted @

Artist: Guns N Roses, Alice In Chains, Tragically Hip, Velvet Revolver Album: Use Your Illusion One, Use Your Illusion 2, Publisher Demos, World Container Track: Pretty Tied Up, Don't Damn Me, Knockin on heaven's door, the real thing, Fly Other Tags: Quirks, observations

Axl – Acl-suhl – To Pull an Axl – The act of shouting random unrelated shit at the end of a song

the act of inserting Unrelated machismo-tainted spoken word portions into a song, usually during the outtr0.

Does it drive anyone else nuts when Musicians do this? I've dubbed this act 'Pulling an Axl' as Mr. Rose seems to be one of the worst offenders. They range from semi-weird to the inconceivably inane. Think of the particularly line part in 'Pretty tied up'; "Cool Ranch Dressing"

WHAT . THE . F$&%. (my now-reading-age kid is in the room). Cool Ranch Dressing?

He pulls a double-Axl (smirk smirk) at the end of 'Don't Damn Me' off Use Your Illusion I. At songs end, he blurts out "Smokem if you got 'em!" for no particular reason. Maybe he thought better of it, because then – possibly forgetting that they were still RECORDING – he declares "ALL RIGHT ! THAT SUCKED !"

The other Axlism, is to add weird rambling spoken word parts to otherwise decent songs. I won't even get into them, but they are usually tinged with some kind of hostile machismo, but it's really hard to tell, because he's pretty much just blathering and spewing profanity.

He's not the only one guilty. In the publisher demo release of Alice in Chains 'The Real Thing' Layne, possibly (no, probably) under the influence of some sort of narcotic, sings loud, sings proud 'Sexual Chocolate, Baby!' Maybe he was practicing to be the first singer for GNR II … I mean, velvet revolver.

We have our own offenders at home here, including one near and dear to my heart, Mr. Gord Downie of the Tragically Hip. Although he's well known for his intensive monologuing during live shows (which I don't count as Axlisms, since 1. They tend to form some sort of narrative, rather than random verbal threats to no one in particular and 2. They're darn entertaining.

however, Gordie's picked up a disconcerting habit of adding bizarre little qualifiers to lyrics, such as his excessive use of 'That's right' in the song 'Fly'.

Does anyone else have some examples of gratuitous 'Axling?' Especially those committed in a studio, rather than onstage? The onstage Axlism is a teensy bit more forgivable than the studio recorded one. I mean, hey, who doesn't get a little excited in front of crowd, right?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Most embarassing moment.

Again, I'm finding stories I told people a while back, and since I'm bored I feel like posting random shit.

I once, in an incident I must have repressed for many years because whenever I guess asked my most embarassing moment I forget about this one, was thrown cartoon style from a tread mill.

It seems I am unable to walk at a speed of 6km an hour. News to me, wish someone had told me before hand.

Now wait, it gets better. I Wasn't thrown right away... No, I had had the foresight to grab hold of the handle when things started to get a big dodgy... thing is, I was still holding on when my feet came out from under me. So I am still holding on to the bars though. Picture me if you will, going 'fwap fwap fwap against the tread. Yup. Feeling intense heat growing against my shirt-front, I decided it might be a good idea to let go before I set myself on fire. Whoosh.

Now because this is me, this doesn't happen in the privacy of my own home where I can look around and say 'Oh thank GOD no one saw that'. No, fate doesn't like me quite that much. THis happens at the local Y. On one side of me, my friend and workout companion laughing her ass off like some kind of retard, not trying at all to do something logical like help me. On the other side of me on a stationary bike, one incredibly handsome man, looking like he just witnessed an antelope being devoured by a pack of jackals. Just horrified.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Intro to Myspace

I found this story in my MySpace inbox from a while ago, explaining to my friend Michael, the story of how I got mixed up in this crazy universe, and I thought "This shit is pretty damn funny!" so here it is..... a little flashback....

Picture it... december 2005....

Okay, so here's my story...

As you already know, I set myself up a bullshit profile called Joe Blow -- I'm a mecca of originality -- so I could check out my friends music site. At the time I had the hots for this guy john (number 1 on top 8) and a couple weeks after I had made the fake profile, I recieved an email saying that John wanted to add me as a friend.

Was it the same guy? I was pleasantly surprised to find it was, but a little confused as to whether he knew it was me, and if he did, how he knew. So I added him and sent him a little message that said the following...

"Hi, I'm not really Joe Blow. He's hiding somewhere in border region of Afghanistan. Delta Force may have already killed him"

Charming and cute right? That's what I thought.

So anyway, since I was bored as fuck that night, I decided what the hell, I would set my profile up proper, adding pictures and my actual name (at the time I went by Andie on here). So as I am setting up, I see this handy little option allowing you to import your address book. So I figured, 'ahh that must be how he knew I was on here.'

So import my address book, and since it automatically sent it to everyone who had an account, I came to the horrifying realization that He may NOT EVEN KNOW I WAS ON HERE!! So now i am panicking, thinking back to the message that sounded so cute at the time, but is now sounding completely random and frankly, a little psychotic, especially considering that by this time I had erased all evidence of the existence of my alter ego, Joe blow.

Dear God, I thought to myself. So I did what any woman in a crisis does, I phoned my best friend and told her of my stupidity. Tears of both laughter and humiliation were streaming down my face as I contemplated how completely psycho I was going to come across.

Her advice to me, god love her, was to just come clean and explain what happened and hope for the best. So the next day I wrote him a long email saying pretty much what is written here, adding that I really like talking and hanging out with him, but if he was uncomfortable with that now, that I would understand, but that it was really just a harmless misunderstanding. I ended by asking him to get in touch with me, and that if he didn't I would take the hint.

A day and a half later I was greeted by an IM saying that I was indeed crazy but also really funny. I'd like to say that we ended up hooking up after that and lived happily ever after, but we have forged a great friendship since.

Yeah, so that's my Myspace iniation story.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Internet=Serious business, indeed (R.I.P. Erika with a K)

Authors Note:  This was posted after hearing of the passing of a good online friend of mine.  The intended audience at  the time of writing were the other people in the group of friend through which I had met Erika.  She had touched many before her untimely death, and is still missed - Andrea 05/15/11

I'm not going to go to a great length eulogizing, because most has been said before, by those (Erik, Paul) who are much more qualified to do so than I.

I will say, however, and I'm not proud of this, but in the beginning, I was prepared to dislike Erika. Why? Because she was young, fucking GORGEOUS, and got all the attention, and I can be a jealous, petty woman.

Guess what? Didn't work. Why? Because along with being young, gorgeous, and charismatic, she was also Smart as hell and ridiculously funny. Despite myself, I liked the hell out of Erika. That was cemented with a mutual love of Chuck Klosterman.

I was surprised by the force with which the news of her death hit me. I've had relatives pass away who garnered no more of a reaction than 'oh, I'm sorry, that's so sad'.

It's made me think about my relationships with my online friends. The honest truth is, I don't get out much, and I communicate with many of you more than my local friends (a much nicer term I think than 'IRL' friends). It's a bizarre dynamic though, because of distance and the ability for people to come and go, and disappear into the maze that is the internet.

In high school I was assigned to read "The Chrysalids" by John Wyndham. In this book there are a group of characters who are able to communicate telepathically using 'thought-shapes'. They talk to each other, and know each others thought intimately, despite having never met (with the exception of two of them). At one point, one of the group suddenly stops communication, and it's not until a few weeks later they find the boy has died in an accident.

This part of this particular book has been floating around my head for the past week or two, oddly enough, and had me wondering, what if something happened to one of us? In this situation that wasn't the case, but it's obvious by the way everyone has reacted, the shock and the sorrow, that it's not JUST the internet, we make friends, we lose friends, sadly. The relationships we form here can be just as binding, just as meaningful as any friendship with physical proximity.

I think in the wake of this tragedy, and it is a tragedy when anyone is taken so young (although I often forgot she was only 19, she was wise beyond her years), it becomes plainly clear that we need to respect each other here as we would anyone IRL, because behind each profile there is a living breathing person with thoughts, feelings, hopes, aspirations, insecurities, fears, hearts and minds.

P.S. I don't want to be one of those people who disappears into the interweb, so I'm leaving you all my number... anyone I trust enough to be on my preferred list, I trust enough to have my number. Use it any time.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

This weekend I...

...Stayed in to get a good nights sleep, and stayed up chatting online.

...Drove two and a half hours to a to a used bookstore to take a chance on the possibility of something special, and found out something special doesn't work that day.

...travelled facing west on a freeway during 5 pm rush hour, into the setting sun, for two head-throbbing hours, in the name of friendship.

...Swore "Never Again!" to organizational responsibility, then two hours later, volunteered for next year.

It's been a full weekend.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007


I went and got my cheap DVD fix today. Sometimes I like to hunt the bargain bins to see what interesting tidbits I can come up with. I picked up three flicks today:

Beetlejuice - I love, love LOVED this movie as a kid. Entertainment for family company was getting little 7 year old Andie to recite entire scenes of memorized dialogue from this film. It also was the catalyst for my love of Harry Belafonte.

The Chiefs - Is apparently a documentary about a semi-pro hockey league out of Laval Quebec which was/is notorious for its in-game violence. Tagline: The Hanson Brothers have nothing on these guys (those familiar with the film Slapshot will get the reference)

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil: Loved the book, and the movie was five bucks. Nuff said.

I've discovered a huge pet peeve in this world of cut-rate cinematography --- the two for one packages. Not just 2 for 10 bucks, but the ones that come wrapped together, or the box sets, or the 3 movies/1 Dvd deals. It's really just a scam to get rid of overstock.

It's like they're saying to me "Here, you can have this halfway decent movie for a pretty good price. Come on, you know you want it.

Ahh ahh ahh! There's a catch. To get the half-way decent film (or even enjoyable on a camp or kitch level film) You gotta take this piece of crap affront to the film business with it. Eg. Grease & Grease 2. What is worse, is people buy these, take the crappy movie to the Hock shop, and the Hock shops sell it for 10 bucks, when the original two-pack cost 8.99

The other ploy is the 'So-and-so Collection'. I saw the Jennifer Aniston Collection in Future shop one day. It didn't even have the Good Girl on it, which was the only film she ever got any acclaim for. Let's not even get into the question of WHY someone would want a Jennifer Aniston collection (Not that I dislike her, I took her side in the Brangelina debacle) but it seems kind of arbitrary, doesn't it? It'd be like having the 'David Arquette Collection'... just Huh? wtf? or the Brittany Murphy Collection. People who tend to do good supporting roles, but can't really carry a film on their own.


Friday, August 31, 2007

Reflection on long weekend grocery Shopping.

People amaze me, you know that?  The Stupidity, I mean. Today on my break I took a jaunt over to the GCSS, as it's friday, and friday means sushi day.  The place was a friggin madhouse.

Anyhoo, it inspired me to compile a list of simple rules for grocery shopping.

- First and MOST IMPORTANT.  If you lack the mental faculties necessary to grasp the subtle intricacies of the Self-Check out, then please, for your own health and safety, move over to another check out and let a TRAINED PROFESSIONAL help you. It's what they're paid for.

- I don't care if it says 1-8 items, 1-10 items or even 1-16 items.  If you have enough groceries that you feel it necessitates a cart... GET THE HELL OUT OF THE EXPRESS LINE.

- Bulk items are complicated.  All that weighing and typing of numbers at the check out eats up precious time.  So instead of going to the bulk aisle to buy SIX FUCKING M&M's*... Throw caution to the wind and buy a bag. 

*Combining this with irresponsible use of the self-check out nearly resulted in grocery related homocide today.

-Don't be a Hero. Don't invite people from other lines in front of you.  No matter how nice you're being to that person, you're still a jerk to the 17 people behind you.

-Tourist dollars and local economy be damned.  If you're a cottager, do your damn shopping in the city BEFORE you come here.

Monday, August 27, 2007

The wild are strong, and the strong are the darkest ones

Occasionally, just once in a while, it's fun to have a blog title that has nothing to do with the blog itself. I just happen to have that particular song in my head right now.

I had a pretty fantastic birthday, went out to Shananas with some good friends, as well as my sister and pseudo sister, let loose for the first time in quite a while, and then got to drive to Port Perry the next day whilst hungover to go wedding dress shopping with the sisser(s) and de mudder.

My actual birthday was pretty quiet, although I did get cake as the communal office birthday party was that day. Four out of five august birthdays were amalgamated into one to save on cake costs and time spent away from the desk (the fifth one was the bosses, so he got his almost-own party... although it was a shared birthday/going away party for another co-worker). So that worked out nicely for yours truly. Helps to have a sister as an a office manager ;-)

Thursday night I went to Tonys to pick the girls and got the shock of my life. In a moment of frustration over the prospect of another year battling headlice from school (what happened to the days when kids would get sent home?) the boy got creative and shorned the children. To his benefit, he made an effort to make the girls new haircuts at least stylish, if really really short. So after my initial shock wore off, I had to admit, they look pretty darn cute. Little punkish pixieish type cuts he gave them. Just wish he would have warned me, I could have done without the coronary.

That weekend was the big family birthday party for me, Reagan and Dad. It also marked the beginning of me getting sick as hell for the next week. I was felled by a throat infection, ear infection and eye infection all at the same time. It was not pretty. Now that the eye infection has mostly gone away, I only have to deal with being unable to wear eye make-up (similar to taking heroin from a junkie) and being asked constantly if I am stoned.

Got better in time to play in our year end baseball tournament, and WE WON! We won the semifinal game 26-7 and the championship game roughly 9-3. Went out to the bar that night with Kaylee and Lisa, and the next day made the long trek downtown to get my car.

Oh, an update on the school thing. My OSAP funding got cut in half, so I've decided the stress around going to U of T (not to mention that less OSAP meant that I couldn't get the new vehicle necessary to get dwon there) is too much, and I'm going with my original plan to return to Laurentian PT and I'm staying on at Labx to work my way through the next year. Booyah.

Night all.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Cue the Go-Gos Day five and six

Okay, so Monday was pretty uneventful. I get up, say my goodbyes to Sammi and Anthony, and head off down the road so I can return the rental car. Place isn't open yet, so I go grab a starbucks (okay, but it's got nothing on my timmies) and drive around looking for a gas station. By the time I do all that, the rental place is open.

I get to the airport to discover I miscalculated when my flight left, it was at 11:20 instead of 10:45. No biggie, just meant I had an ass-load more time to kill. I almost got in shit at Customs because I claimed to have no liquids of any sort with me, but I forgot about two tubes of lipgloss and a thing of wedding bubbles. I didn't get in any trouble for it.

While I sat at the gate and read my book, I was witness to a older man in a nice suit going to sit down and missing the chair altogether. It was funny and disturbing at the same time.

Flight was long, needless to say. Someone fainted while on board so they had the attendants all up and down the aisles for the last hour and a half of the flight.

Got back into TO and back to my car and set out to find a hotel room for the night, which I eventually did. After checking in and calling my mom to let her know I was alive and well, I went out to eat. I could have ordered room service but it was from MR. Greek, and A) It looked Expensive, B) I'm not big on greek food and C) I had the kind of hunger on that could only be satiated by hard core fast food.

While on my way to find a McDonalds, I observe that the car in front of me is very loud. I figure this is on purpose, since it appears to be one of those souped up little civics. Then I realize, that's not the car in front of me.... It's ME.

Now, when the bearer of a loud effin engine is some sort of cherried out hot rod of some sort, it's cool. When the bearer is a rusted 91 Sunbird, it's merely another thing to draw attention to how fucking shitty my car is.

I get back to the hotel and look under, and sure enough, my muffler has detached from the exhaust pipe. Not cool. I'm in Toronto, I still have to go to U of T the next day and I'm thinking it's gonna be at least a 500 dollar repair.

The next morning, I head down the 401 to the University, and my motor is drowning my already poor stereo that is no longer enhanced by the power of my missing MP3 player. I can hear the clank of metal on concrete every time I hit a bump, and in my rearview, I can see the look of terror on the drivers face, as I am sure that I am sending up sparks with every bump.

By the time I get to the Campus, the metal on concrete clanking is almost a constant. Pulling up to the parking arm, I am appalled to see that the fee to get in the lot is TEN EFFIN' DOLLARS. I pull back, throw my hazards on, and take a look under the car again. Sure enough, now the muffler is hanging on roughly a 70 degree angle from the car. It is at this point I sit down on the curb and weep, while rummaging through my wallet, hoping to god almighty that I have ten bucks in change. When I put my 10 dollars in, nothing happens. A campus cop comes up to me and asks me if everything is okay.



To his credit, he calmly says 'I'll lift the arm' and I start through. There is a beep behind me, and I notice the conspicuously absent clanking noise. Looking back, there is a sad little rust-brown heap in the middle of the road, the pathetic remains of my muffler. I park, and walk back to retrieve it, as I hate to litter.

Incidentally, the fact that it fell off in the parking lot and not on the 401 was not only a possible lifesaver, but it also allowed for the little bit of comic relief when I finally got to my mechanics place, walked up to the counter, plopped the piled of rust down and said 'JiM! I think there's something wrong with my muffler!"

Yeah. 260 dollars (thank gawd it was so much less than I had anticipated) and a visit with my friend Becky to kill time later, I finally got my kids from their dads and got home. I delivered souvenirs to the family and went to bed.

Thats my story. Cheers.

Cue the Go-Gos day four

We woke up at 6:15ish in order to throw some clothes on and head over to the salon to get our hair done for the ceremony. We make it there for around 7:30 on the dot, yet the lady doing our hair (one hairdresser, four hairdos... let's do the math-timewise... =NOT A HELL OF A LOT OF TIME) as the ceremony is at 11am. So needless to say, we were a little worried when it got to be about 7:50 and the lady had still not shown up. Amy and I walked down the road to look for a coffee shop, as by this time I was getting to a point where I was gonna get really effin ugly if I didn't get some caffeine into my system, stat.

Beyond the car rental, I have no idea how I spent nearly 400 bucks while I was down there, considering I don't think I paid for a single meal, large or small while I was there. Someone was always buying, and insisting on it. Even for the coffee, I had offered to get everyone's coffee, then Amy plunks a 20 down at the coffee shop.

We get back, and Vina is there and has already begun working on Sammi's do. But it's looking nothing like she had said she was getting. She had described some sort of french braid thing, but mean while, Vina has pulled it all up on one side and is teasing the shit out of it, and poor Sammi looks ready to cry, either out of fear or pain, as Vina was not particularly gentle with the brush. Wendy pulls me outside and we have a moment of 'Oh my GOD, what is she doing to her? What if she hates it? Do you think we'll be able to find a Supercuts to fix it?'

FORTUNATELY, Vina's vision was true and gradually a lovely do came out of all the curling and pinning and teasing. We each got our turn, and despite worries to the contrary, we actually got to the ceremony site right on time, with time to spare to check out the reception room, and toast a glass of wine, as Sammi's nerves were getting little shot at this point I think.

The ceremony was very moving, and I kind of wish I was Jewish, or that I didn't feel bad about appropriating the customs of other religions (although I don't know if I can say 'other' if I don't belong to one to begin with) just because I like them.

The reception was fun, food was AMAZING, and all in all everything pulled together nicely in the end. After the reception was over, Sammi, Anthony and Amy took off so they could take pictures, so I took Ian and Wendy back to their hotel room then headed back to the apartment. I pulled up the same time as Mike (groomsman and downstairs neighbor) and Brian (from the rehearsal dinner), and they said they were gonna come up later when everyone got back, so I said cool and went upstairs, figured out how to work the DVD so I could throw some music on, and went to work cleaning the apartment, which sammi and anthony seemed very appreciative of when they got home. I said to consider it similar to the ancient traditon of preparing the bridal suite.

We ended up going down to Mikes place and watching the remainder of Tommy Boy, and Sammi and Anthony decided to upstairs to lie down *snicker snicker* seeing as Sammi didn't sleep the night before, as she was up doing the playlist for the reception. So I stayed downstairs and hung out with Mike, Brian, Scott, and .... Ed? I think the other guys name was?

Funny story. I really am a social retard. So Scott comes in, and he's there for a few minutes and I introduce myself, not recognizing him as the guy I talked to at the reception for like A HALF AN HOUR. Dah, dumb. But yeah, hanging out with these very fun people I have known for less than 24 hours -- Score One for the normally socially inept and painfully shy. At around 8ish we pile into Mikes car and take off for Mexican food -- The dirtier the mexican restaurant, the better the food, apparently :-D

The more you know.

Again, I got treated, which was pretty cool. And then I got mildly groped by Brian in the car as he was 'searching' for the seatbelt in the very crowded car. Yup.

There were plans to go to a bonfire at the beach but as my plane left early the next day, I decided it would be better if I just went to bed instead, as I was pretty beat by that time, although I was very tempted by the knowledge of possible campfire jamming.

So I went back, packed all my stuff up and crashed on the couch for the final night.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Cue the Go-Gos Day three.

Saturday morning I expected a rental car to be showing up at the apartment around 9ish. The others had made plans to go to home depot to get supplies for the making of the chuppah for the ceremony. Myself I had plans to drive myself up to Riverside for a visit with MySpaces own Chris aka AvantPunk, or the 'notaninja' and the lovely Sarah. There had been calls back and forth all weekend to nail down a time, but frankly, I never knew what I was doing. So the plan was saturday for lunch as Chris and Sarah had places to be later that afternoon, and this would be the last chance before I got home. So friday night after dinner I had gotten on the comp and made myself a reservation for the cheapest compact I could rent in all of San Diego. On the site, there was a section to fill in asking where you wanted to be picked up. So I assumed that they would be picking me up.

Imagine my suprise when at 9:30 there was still no car. So I call the 'wrong' rental place to see if my reservation was on file. Now, since I called the wrong place, of course it wasn't. I ended up having to wake sammi and anthony up so I could hop on the comp and figure out what the hell company had my car.

Now, my plan had been to leave around 9:30 so as to get there for 11ish. But since they didn't pick me up, I had to get a ride to the rental place when everyone else left to go home depoting. So I didn't end up leaving SD until about 10:30. I had my directions and whatnot and I was off. Incidentally, the guy in the rental place recognized my drivers licence and mentioned that he used to live in Toronto. Small world.

About halfway there, I see a sign on the I-15 that tells me the highway is going to split. According to the sign, 1-15 heads to Los Angeles, and the I-215 heads to Riverside. The Google map had said to keep taking I-15 to CA-91 or some such thing like that. I think to myself, oh the google map must be wrong. I don't want to go to LA, I want to go to Riverside. It only makes sense to take the sign that says Riverside. Now think back to day one, and the important lesson I learned then, as it applies here.


I find the cut off to the CA-91, but I think it was one of those 'exit up ahead' signs, because the cut off I took did NOT take me to another freeway, but to a residential area. I drive down the residential area, thinking that maybe I can rely on my natural sense of direction to take me where I want to go *snickers*. As I notice the residential becoming progressively more industrial and sketchy looking, I also notice I'm getting low on gas, so I pull over at a gas station and try to pump some gas. I can't seem to get my gas tank open. I pry with my fingers, I pry with my keys. Not something I recommend doing to a rental car. Giving up, I move the car and with one bar left on my phone battery I call Chris. The gist of the conversation:

Me: Chris, the inevitable has happened.
Chris: you're lost?
Me: oh, you betcha.
Chris: Where are you?

I look. Me: I'm at a gas station on the corner of Riverside Ave and Agua Mana (something like that) Blvd.
Chris: *silence* Where?
Me: Riverside Ave and Agua Mana Blvd.
Chris: Heh. I don't know where that is. Wanna spell that for me?
Me: R...I...V...E...

OKay, I never said that, but it always makes the story sound funnier.

So, we figure out where I am, and Chris tells me to go back where I came from and to keep the mountains behind and to the left of me. I look. The mountains are in front of me and to my left. Buh? I say. How does THAT work. How that works is that what I was looking at weren't mountains, but mere hills. It was too hazy that day to see the actual mountains.

Anyway Chris directs me to the highway, and helps out with the gas tank problem by suggesting a looking for a button release. Durr. You see, driving my piece of shit Sunbird, I don't have all these fancy gadgets and buttons. You wanna roll down your window? You turn the crank thing. You wanna pop the trunk? you stick your key in the trunk lock. Wanna open your gas tank? you use your finger to flip the little door open. Simple. I faced further frustration when I couldn't get the pump to work. Apparently the petrol industry is not so trusting in the U.S. and you have to pay first, THEN pump.

So back on the highway. Chris had told me to get off at Van Buren Street. The google map told me to get off at Arlington/Van Buren st. I see an exit for Arlington street and figure THAT must be what they meant.


Adding insult to injury, I kept missing this exit that I thought was the right one, so I had to keep turning around, thus going around and around in circles. Cell rings. Chris. "Where are you?"

"I'm going around and around in circles." Explaining to the spatial-retard that I am, that I still have to go another four exits before I get to the REAL exit. By this time, it's getting late, and we all have about 35 minutes to have lunch and chat and what not. When I finally got there, I was euphorically happy to be the fuck out of the crappy rental car and into the hot hot continental California sun. 100F baby. We piled into Chris's truck and took in a quick lunch at Del Taco, and chatted and their daughters bought me stickers! Family guy stickers, that are currently on my guitar. Sweet girls :-)

Despite the shortness of the visit, it was pretty cool meeting them. I had a great time, and when we came back to the house, there were pictures taken and whatnot, and if I make it back down to CA next year, I'd totally make the trip again, esp. since I know how to get there now :-P

We said goodbyes and I followed them out to the highway and headed back to SD for the 'rehearsal dinner' I guess you could call it, at the Cheesecake factory. I got back to sammi's place just as everyone was leaving, then they found out there was going to be a huge wait to get in (well I guess a table for 23 approx is gonna take quite a while). So I was able to lounge for a bit and take my time getting dressed and finishing harry potter 7. When we got the call that we were going to be seated, Amy (who had also stayed behind to get ready) and I headed down to the restaurant. I had a fantastic but ridiculously filling four cheese pasta, and spent much of the dinner flirting with one of the married groomsmen who's wife was conspicuously absent all weekend. Felt kind of bad about the flirting, but I had NO* actual intentions on following through. It was just hard NOT to flirt. Although it was funny, because he asked me if Amy and I were 'Together' I guess because of the showing up together, and being from the same area. I dunno, who knows how people's minds work.

Dessert was Oreo cheesecake (surprised?) and it was scrumptious, and huge portion so I shared with those around me. I tried to get some pictures of hot Brian eating strawberries provocatively, but none of them turned out well. He kept giggle when I said 'Eat that berry like you MEAN it.'

After dinner, the girls all went back to the apartment to work on all the last minute wedding details, centrepieces, playlist, looking for Tiara's gone AWOL. Passed out sometime around 1 I think. Maybe earlier.

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Chris, Me and Sarah.

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One of the Family Guy stickers, the other one is on the other side of the guitar.

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* talk about the WORST TYPO EVER. Way to make yourself look like a big homewrecking whore with nothing more than one missing word, Andie.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Cue the Go-Gos Day two.

I love cereal. And Sammi and anthony had a veritable smorgasbord of yummy cereal. Cocoa pebbles, Cinnamon toast cruch, Apple Jacks, you name it. The wide selection of cereal made up for the lack of coffee. I brought Sammi a tin of Timmies, but neglected to bring a coffee maker. Here's hoping she got one in her wedding presents.

Friday mornings plan was to go to Pacific beach. I have never been to the ocean before. I was worried that I may have some kind of phobic incident, since as a child I may have read one too many books on creatures of the deep. Turns out the only thing we had to worry about was Jellyfish. There were a few out and about, including one about 6" across where Amy and I had ventured into the water. In all honesty, swimming in the ocean is way too much fun, I didn't want to get out, once we moved to an area that was crowded with people instead of jellyfish. Even when some kid nailed me in the ankles with an out of control boogie board.

While at the beach, something fun happened, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it until the information becomes 'declassified'.

The time came to leave, since we had a mani-pedi appointment for 2pm. the five of us got French manicures done, wondering if we could keep our nails nice over the next two days. BTW, this was all on Sammi's dime, she went above and beyond for us bridesmaids, I think. The one manicurist was some kind of Sadist I think. He kept tickling Tara and Wendy during their pedicures, until they were practically jumping out of their seats. The salon we went too was right next to a hookah lounge. Fun.

Dinner out again, this time to a place who's name escapes me, but it was a sports bar type place that was packed for the whole Barry Bonds thing. I had one crazy huge burger. Oh man, was it good. After dinner, half of us went to the movies to see Harry Potter. Me, I went home and read Harry Potter, then crashed out on the couch.

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This is about half the size of the one we say in the water. Ugly fuckers, arent' they?

Vacation - Cue the Go-Gos. Day One.

So, this week was the week of my big old trip to San Diego for Sammi and Anthony's wedding. I'm going to try and do a run down of the week, but it's late, and I'm remembering why I never ended up blogging my vacation last year. There's so much to SAY. So let's go Chronologically.

THURSDAY: I wake up to the phone ringing at 2 in the morning. It's Sammi with my wake-up call so I can get dressed and get to the airport for 5ish. I've gotten a decent amount of sleep, although my plan to go to bed at 7:30 had been thwarted by my need to be on the phone for an extra hour. I regret nothing :-)

I had printed out my directions to get to the Pearson International, but for some reason I decided I knew better than Google maps, which had told me to go down to 401 and take it over to Dixon Road. Well, the map showed the airport parking place to be just off the 427. So I figured, why not take 7 over to the 427 instead?


After winding up in Brampton, I stop and ask for directions to Dixon road. The woman in the Tim Hortons actually directed me to Dixie Road, which is actually fairly near, but still not where I need to go. It's at this time that my parents answering machine got a frantic call from me for directions because my Dad professes to know every road in Southern Ontario. I forget that they are camping, and not home to recieve my call. After finding myself out by that giant bad omen known as Woodbine Racetrack (for some reason, I always end up there when lost in Toronto) I get some more competent directions and get to the airport.

While in line for customs, I give a dirty look to this woman who seems to be staring at me for no reason. Turns out, it's Sammi's mom. Gah, stupid me. Sammi's parents are at the same flight as me. Going through customs, the lady starts questioning me.

Customs: What is your reason for flying to the U.S.?
Me: Oh, I'm going to my friends wedding.
Customs: Is your friend American?
Me: well, sort of, I guess. Maybe. Well, she lives there.
Customs: Well living there doesn't MAKE you an American.
Me: Well, her husband is. Soon to be husband, I mean.

She asks me a bunch of questions about sammi's state of employment and what I do for a living. I guess they don't get a lot of terrorists in Data Entry, because she dismissed me soon after that.

I went and had some breakfast in the airport bar, but wasn't terribly hungry so I wandered around a bit -- I had time to kill, since going through customs took much less time that the three hours they say to give yourself.

I finally mosey over to the gate, and Sammi's mom rushes up and proceeds to tell me how worried they were when they didn't see me coming out of customs. I guess it's happened before where people they travelled with got detained. I just got breakfast. I felt kind of bad for that.

The flight was an interesting experience, although I snagged my earphones going to the bathroom and ripped one right off. Then I proceeded to leave my MP3 player on the plane when we de-planed.

Sammi and Ans came and greeted us all at the airport, and they gave me a ride to the apt while Sammi's parents waited for her sister Tara. Once they were all back at the apt, we went out to a fantastic italian restaurant, Phillipe's Pizza Grotto, and stuffed ourselves silly, taking home the mass amount of leftovers. I swear by the end of the weekend, there was no room in the fridge for all the leftovers. At dinner we also met anthonys' family, as well Wendy, Ian and Amy were all there as well.

After dinner/lunch (we ate around 3 PST) we went back to the apt and I decided to have a nap, that turned into a pretty big sleep, and I didn't get up until about 9:30. By that time, everyone else went to Target, left me on the couch. I apparently slept through that, Sammi's family returning, one of the groomsmen coming over and all manner of chaos.

After I got up, FINALLY, me, sammi, anthony, wendy and Ian went out for ice cream and hot dogs at the Weinershnitzel. I'd never been to one before, this was a trip of many firsts. I liked that it was a kind of a walk up place, with outdoor tables. Something like that would never fly here. What with the snow and all.

Oh yeah, Sammi gave me my birthday present the first day there too. Straight from San Diego Comicon, a special edition X-men comic, and a WICKED cool Wolverine glass. I'm thinking it might become my party glass. Its that cool.

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There's something on the wing!!
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Monday, July 30, 2007

Big Excitement in the town of Midland

Yup, so today a good hour and a half of the workday was wasted when a transformer blew... RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.

I was walking to the bathroom when the lights went out and all teh various generators and whatnot started beeping like mad, warning us that we had a hour before the whole freaking place shut down.

So a good hour was spent just watching the repair guys come, and the gawkers on the street standing around. The Dev office was all women today, just me, Cheryl and Alyx, as bill and peter were away, so there was much commenting on the hot sweaty man in the bucket, and about his generous use of electrical tape. Go Midland Hydro.

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Mr. Bucketman and his trusty electrical tape.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007


I'm not good at this dating stuff. I don't think I'm high maintenance. I don't ask for a lot. A 'Hey I'm sorry I have been in touch, things have been crazy' so I might at least feel worth five lousy minutes of one's time. Whether it's social retardation or just plain inconsiderateness, I swim in a big enough sea of self-doubt without bullshit like that. But, me, I give the benefit of the doubt, because I fear that being distrustful will mean that I've reached that level I never want to reach... the bitter jaded man-hating divorcee.

So I give the benefit of the doubt. and I give it and give it. I have a lot of dealbreakers, which I haven't had to deal with, I don't tend to wind up with alchoholics, drug addicts or wife-beaters, but I seem to be drawn to fractured people with issues. People who have been hurt in the past as I have, and it winds up working like magnets of the same poles deflecting each other in the hopes of not getting hurt.

Bah. I don't know, I ramble. Once again, although I stick to my guns (I'm not chasing this time. He can come to me when he's ready) on some levels, I accomodate on others. The opportunity for another chance is there, I suppose, but there's a definite best before date on this offer. In the meantime, I'm doing my own thing. I'm done emotionally investing in something like this if I'm not being met dollar for metaphorical dollar.

Fuck, I don't even know what I am talking about, I just know I felt more content and a lot less anxious when I was status: single than no status at all.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

It's that time again...

Obligatory I feel bad for not blogging in bloody forever time!

In some ways, not much to report, and in others much.

I made the decision that I am going to go to U of T in september, and see if I can pull it off. If not, then I attempt to do my catch-up courses by correspondence or in the summer, and go for fourth year at Laurentian as planned. I think one semester should be at least enough time for me to tell if the commute is going to kill me or not.

Work is good, I thought for a while that they might think about keeping me on -- which would require either a hefty raise, or a huge cutback in hours so I could still go to school, but I'm thinking it's unlikely. They've given me much praise on my work, but if I had a shot of whiskey for everytime my boss says 'when you're done at the end of the summer' then I'd have had my stomach pumped ages ago. But they've given me what I think is permanent digs, so I don't have to have flashes of Office Space every few weeks. And I've been given more responsibility.. along with with the research and data entry

The love life is looking up. I had the good fortune to meet someone special a while ago, and we've been very slowly getting to know each other. It's been nice, but suffice it to say, the slowness has been a necessity as my spare time is fleeting. But things for once seem to be going well enough for me to, at the very least, change my Facebook status from 'single' to... well... nothing. :-P I err on the side of caution at all times. It's both a blessing and a curse. But I'm cautiously optimistic about this... it's so bizarre though, as my dating experience has been rather fleeting, and after being single (well in most ways... Sammi, you know what I'm referring to) for so long, I'm really just retarded at all this.

I'm trying to get the girls set up with school, as we are changing their school in the fall to one closer to their dad's place, since they spend most days there, and it's easier for me to drive five minutes across town to take them to school, than it is for the boy to walk an hour with four kids across town to pick them up. The question lies with whether or not the school will allow the transfer, as I still *legally* have primary address and custody. It may involve us having to rewrite our separation agreement to accurately reflect our current arrangement.... that is, equal access, no support payments. Meh, if that's what it takes....

Going to see Harry Potter this weekend! This marks my last kid-free, unplanned weekend for almost a month! I have the girls for the next two weekends in a row, as the boy and the GF are going camping, then in three weeks I'm in SAN DIEGO! I need to start making plans soon people, I'm gonna have one day -- probably friday the 3rd -- to come and meet people, so if you're in, let me know (Chris, Paul, Joseph I'm looking at you...)

Friday, June 22, 2007

Songs make the scene

So this may be the first in an ongoing series, but I want to point out some scenes in movies where the accompanying soundtrack totally set the mood for the scene, whether it was the lyrics or the melody itself. These are the ones that pop into mind for now, and in no particular order. Keep in mind that I am neither a music or film elitist, and these are only my opinion.

CRUEL INTENTIONS - "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve.

Reese witherspoon looked so triumphant when she outed Sarah Michelle Gellar for the whoring cokehound she was at the end of this film, and I've always found this song to be a really up-lifting song. If you catch me hearing it on a really bright sunny day, I can almost imagine birds taking flight. Crazy I know.

The title plays into this as well. The end of this film certainly is bittersweet for little Reese, as she has taken her revenge on SMG, but her equally whoring boyfriend is roadkill. At least she got a sweet ride out of the deal.

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EMPIRE RECORDS - "Little Bastard" by Ass Ponys

The title pretty much says it all, when we the viewing audience become witness to the on-foot chase between Lucas and local shoplifter 'Warren Beatty'. Plus the upbeat tempo makes this scene all teh more amusing, with it's lightheartedness. It was one song that actually contributed to the feel of a scene, instead of filling a scene.

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HIGHWAY 61 - "Its not Unusual" by Tom Jones

Four people, running through an eccentric rock stars mansion, chasing their dinner in the form of live chickens, to be hunted through the halls of said mansion with handguns. How does one top that level of absurdity? SET IT TO TOM JONES!!! The Velvet Fog was just what Bruce McDonald needed to set this particular scene right over the top. One of the best scenes I've ever seen.

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I'm gonna post this as a thread in group, and I may post other peoples suggestions as well. Based pretty much on my own subjective opinions though.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

All kinds of baffled.

I got something in the mail that promises to alter the course of my life quite a bit. A while ago, when I was applying for the Social Work program at Lakehead, I had two other spots available on my form. So for shits and giggles I applied at Ryerson, and for shits and rowdier giggles, I sent an app to the University of Toronto, not thinking that in a million years I would actually get in.

Fast forward about, eeeeehhhhh, six months or so, to last night. I've already received rejection letters from Lakehead, which was unexpected, and Ryerson, which is expected since I never did a damn thing to follow up on that app, as I was planning on going to Lakehead. By this point I have already made my decision to return to LU@G next year part time.

I'm heading out to hang out at Cromsie and Tims, and think 'Hey, I haven't checked my mail in a day or two'. Inside is a large envelope marked UofT. Now, remember, I pretty much took it for granted that U of T was a bullshit application. So, the big envelope threw me off, as rejection letters are usually sent in little envelopes with little to no to-do.

Get out to the car.

Open envelope.

I'm in. I'm motherfucking in. See additional page for conditions relating to your acceptance. No conditions. No essays to write, no tests to take, no interveiws. I'm just in.

So I question, I'm all done my degree... do I want to do this? And then I thought... it's fucking U of T? I'll analogize for my American friends. To turn it down would be similar to saying 'I don't need to go to Harvard, I have this degree from the University of Idaho'

No offence to anyone who may have attended the University of Idaho. I'm sure it's a reputable institution.

So... I've got some thinking to do. The interesting thing is, that I was saying to my dad a few weeks ago that I was thinking of maybe picking up a second degree in english or history.

I worried about the commute. I worried about the workload. I worried about the debt incurred by another 2 years in school (oh, yeah, they wanna give me 5.0 transfer credits, which adds up to about a years worth of work... SA-WEET) But the thing is, this time around, if it's too much, and I can't hack it, and I find I have to quit....

I STILL HAVE A DEGREE. It's not a case where I quit, go back to the convenience store to forever pay off 50G worth of debt incurred for sweet fuckall. I have something to fall back on.

But yeah, I have some soul searching, some financial planning and some new car searching -- because poor Lurch will not survive a commute to Scarborough... Barrie was asking a lot as it is -- but I really think I'm gonna do it. Could mean big things for me.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Inspiration strikes... in the kneecaps.. with a tire iron.

It feels good to paint again. I've said before, whether I have any talent or not remains to be seen, but it's keeps the brain sane and the fingers nimble.

It's been a few months since I've had any luck even starting, let alone finishing any works. The last one that has been dancing around in my mind was beginning to aggravate yours truly, as all preliminary sketches inevitable met their fate in the bottom of the wastebasket, victims of my inability to match pictures in my head to what ends up on paper -- an inevitability that leads me to lament that again, I have found a hobby in which I have a mediocre talent. Oh, to be a prodigy at some pursuit or another. But no, in artistic endeavours I tend to hover in the range of 'Okay' to 'Pretty good', sometimes finding myself in the territory of 'halfway decent'.

But anyway, so I decided to do away with the preliminary sketch portion of the show, as all it seemed to accomplish was furthering my awareness of my lack of proportioning skills. I jumped to the canvas, and just starting flinging color at it, and it's turning out well, *almost* the way I want it. The paint eventually became too thick for any smaller detail work, but the gist is there, and I can finish the details at a later date. Par for the course when working in acrylics, I suppose. Layer, layer, layer.

It feels pretty damn splendid to sit here, with my hair dishevelled, picking acrylic paint from my arms and legs, and to look with wonder at the ever growing blotches of random color on what has become my 'Painting/Hairdying/whatnot' shirt

Maybe when I'm done this one, I'll post a pic. Meh, maybe not. We'll see.


On a side note, one thing about my job that makes me laugh is that I get to see the attempts by HR at some companies to make the job more fun and interesting.

Case in Point: A biotech company out of Victoria BC holds an annual conference for it's employees called... wait for it, you're gonna love this... Genopalooza.

I laughed. I couldn't help but picture a bunch of research scientists (who I don't doubt many are probably a total riot) running around screaming 'GENE SYNTHESIS, FUCK YEAH!!' And then planning to go smoke a fattie after the keynote on Ion Chromatography.

There's a Compilation CD available in the conference 'Swag Bags' as well as cartoons created by staff. I nearly peed. This, of course, begs the question... What kind of music goes on a CD inspired by Genetic research? If it's out there, I want a copy. This should be good.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

No bass, but lots of treble.

Been meaning to write up a little blog, but I've been sick off my ass since saturday night with what has turned out to be a throat infection. No shit? That would explain the glands that are swollen to the size of a goiter. Sexxy. I expect to see a big loss at WW this week, considering I've barely eaten in three days since it was so damned uncomfortable. That and I didn't go last week, because last wednesday was insanely busy with the grad and the formal and whatnot.

The grad ceremony was about as fun as could be expected, which was moderately fun. My classmates and I made innapropriate comments out of envy over the getups those with higher levels of education are obligated to wear to such events. Apparently the more education you become, the more expected it is to look like someone out of a renaissance fair. But it's tradtional right? We also speculated on why so little of the soci department faculty showed, and decided it was probably because it's so ritualistic and all. :-P

But anyway, my dad and my two grandmothers were able to make it, and I giggled at dad attempting to handle both a videocamera AND a regular digital cam.

We had lunch in The Last Class, and I ran into Sam and Jade outside on the patio, which was fantastic, because I haven't seen Sam in weeks. We're supposed to be hitting Monsoons for sushi and martinis on friday night, so that should be fun.

Rushed home to attempt to do my hair, and discovered the hard way that hot rollers are not meant to be put into wet hair, because then they do SWEET FUCK ALL. Had to do it all over again, but the results were acceptable the second time around. Dan, as always was a great date, even picked up a corsage, and we laughed upon discovering that we were color co-ordinated (red dress, red shirt).

The TLC put on a pretty nice meal, stuffed chicken breast with rosemary potatoes and vegetables, then cheesecake for dessert drizzled with table cream and cinnamon. Orgasm on a plate, it was. Many pictures were taken, some dancing was done, and Andie had a few too many since Dan, being the good date he was offered to drive that night.

Sooo work work workitty work for the next day or two, got some nice praise from my boss and supervising co-worker on some work I had done with trade shows, so go me.

Saturday, after a long, very interesting and at times highly amusing conversation with friend, that answered a lot of questions that had been swimming in my head, I dropped my girls off at their aunties house and went and picked up my dad, so we could head down to T.O. to the Hockey Hall of Fame. I had bought the tickets for his birthday last year, and they expire at the end of June, so it was a now or never kind of thing. It's hard to get him or mom to go to the city on a weekend when they are there all week. We drove down to yorkdale and took the subway from there, because the HHF is all the way downtown and between driving and parking, it's easier to just take the subway -- Sammi and I learned this the hard way when we went to get the tickets last summer... on the HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR, with NO AC.

It was a nice day, we got to talk a lot, and go out for lunch. Unfortunately by the time it was time to go home I feeling pretty shitty, so when Nicky made dinner for everyone, I could maybe get down a couple of mouthfuls of chicken and perhaps six beans.

So sunday I was dead on my ass all day, as was Tierney. Reagan had full run of the house, so I imagine it was pretty scary when my mom got there with ginger ale and all manner of OTC ephemera. So the past couple days have been movie days, but I HAVE to go back to work tomorrow, I can't afford to miss another day, there's already going to be 3-4 days knocked off this pay period. Gah.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Blogitty blog blog blog.

I'm working again, fulltime, for the first time in nearly four years (three years of school, plus one year of mat leave). That job my sister got me that was supposed to be a one week temp job got parlayed into a fulltime summer job. I hate job-hunting with a passion, so this works well for me. I spend 8 hours a day looking up addresses for lab supply manufacturers and dealers and listen to music.

Tomorrow is my Tierneys' birthday, she's gonna be a big six years old. Happy birthday sweetheart.

Trying to get my passport info together for the summer trip to cali. Been working with wendy, one of sammis other bridesmaids about dresses. It's a tough call because we'll all pretty different body shapes, but she's got one in mind that might just work for everyone.

Speaking of weddings, I'm about to become a sister-in-law again. My sister and her man have decided to get married next june, sO i'm lined up to be a bridesmaid, and the girls as flower girls. I didn't get to be in her last wedding, I was too broke to afford a dress, so I opted to be her videographer instead. So, I look at it this way, I didn't waste my presences on the last wedding :-P The poor girl seems to think I'm not happy for her. Not the case, I'm very happy for her, just not the girly 'squealing-and-jumping-up-and-down type'

Still smoke free, rapidly approaching the three month mark. Also down 14 and a half lbs. New clothes, new hairdo, feeling pretty damn sexy.

My graduation ceremony is on wednesday, with a formal dinner and dance afterwards. Looking forward to that, a chance to get all dressed up and prettyful. Dan, who I have managed to finagle into accompanying me called today to tell me he's gotten a suit -- what a sweetheart, I'm glad he's coming. It's sure to be fun.

Started playing baseball two weeks ago, in a ladies slow-pitch league, which has been fun. Last week I managed to hit the ball into fair territory, and I also caught a ball in play, so it was a productive game for me. We may have even won, I'm not sure though. My friend kaylee signed up as well, and is on my team, so that's cool.

My migratory instincts have been kicking in again. I'm in severe need of a roadtrip.... somewhere close enough that the gas costs and the need for time off work won't cripple me financially, but far enough that I feel like I've been somewhere. Unfortunately, for the time being, this leaves Fort Frances out of the running, which is a shame because I miss the hell out of melissa, as well as eric and my awesome little goddaughter sydney. The time off is a big factor in that one, as it takes two days to get to her place if it's just me driving, and then I usually want to stick around two or three nights... so that's like a weeks vacation. I'm hoping I *might* be able to do it in the fall, but let's face it, I'm unable to commit to it any time soon. Depends on how my savings are doing, and where I am working at that point.

I'm hoping I can take a weekend trip somewhere, over a long weekend perhaps. I've already got the Cali trip, which is fantastic as far as seeing new things goes, but I don't know if air travel is gonna hold the same satisfaction for me as the open road. I've had metric on my mp3 player and I flash back to quebec last year, and I want it again, me and the highway. I think I was perhaps destined to be a truck driver, but somehow things got fouled up in the main offices of providence. *sigh* Perhaps it's better this way. As much I love road travel, I don't know how I would do in an 18wheeler. Probably more machine than I could handle.

Ramble ramble ramble. in any case, that's me lately. Not much to say that can't be done in a bi-weekly to monthly update. Cheers, all.

Friday, May 11, 2007

I'm always late with stuff

I wish I had of discovered the pixies like TEN years ago. Thanks to some people around here, I've been a little obsessed.

While not my favorite song by them, the imagery in this one is haunting. If someone sang it to me, I wouldn't know whether to be touched, or run like hell.

Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore

I put it on when I go lonely
Will you take off your dress and send it to me?

I miss your kissin' and I miss your head
And a letter in your writing doesn't mean you're not dead
Run outside in the desert heat
Make your dress all wet and send it to me

I miss your soup and I miss your bread
And a letter in your writing doesn't mean you're not dead
So spill your breakfast and drip your wine
Just wear that dress when you dine


Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore

Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipe it on your dress and send it to me

Sitting here wishing on a cement floor
Just wishing that I had just something you wore

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Today's secret word: Regret

I bought a DVD box set of Pee-wee's Playhouse for the girls and now I can't help but wondering...

Do you think that sometimes, late at night, Lawrence Fishburne drinks a 40 of Jack Daniels, puts on his Cowboy Curtis costume and cries himself to sleep?

Friday, April 27, 2007

Superstition or simple logic?

So it had been raining heavily over the past 24 hours, but it started to let up around 3 this afternoon. As a result the little pink strawberry shortcake umbrella had to be brought in from the car. I caught Reagan trying to open it and gently took it and told her 'Don't open umbrellas in the house. It's bad luck." I thought about what I just said and questioned whether I wanted to pass down such a superstition. Yet I honestly didn't want her opening the umbrella in the house. It's dangerous.

That is when it hit me. Some of these so called 'superstitions' must be based in fact. It is indeed bad luck to open an umbrella in the house. Why? Well, in an enclosed area, how long before one of those spokes get jammed in someones eye? I'd say that's pretty unlucky.

But wait, there's more.

Anybody ever tried walking under a ladder without at least brushing it with some part of the body or another? You walk under the ladder, that person falls, they sue you for a ghastly amount of money. Tough luck, don't walk under ladders.

Breaking a mirror=7 years of bad luck. Because seven years is roughly how long it takes to get broken glass out of a rug. Now THAT's some bad luck.

Now about the number 13. Yeah, I got nothing. I think that one is the result of some group hysteria or something.

The good news: The place where I have been temping this week wants to hire me for the summer, provided they can find me enough work for the summer.

I also have a better perspective than I did earlier this week. My psyche is on it's way to being housetrained.

I got some pretty feckin awesome final marks back as well. 89 on my final for emergence of social theory (not sure of my total mark) and 81 overall in construction of sexuality. Go me.

Going to wonderland with Krystle on Sunday, should be some good times had by all.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Today I don't feel pretty.

It's 5:30 and I can't sleep. The tears keep coming and I'm not even trying to stop them. Maybe they'll run out before I have to get to work.

Not that I want to go. Right about now I want to curl up in a blanket and cry until I am all swollen and ugly-- if that hasn't happened already. I don't want anything to eat that isn't chocolate or anything to drink that has less than an 8% alchohol level.

I feel like I'm in sex and the city, but I'm only getting to live out the shitty parts. I get the break-ups and the occasional lousy one-night stands, and the mind-fucks. I dont' get a Big, or an Aidan, or fuck, even a Steve. I could go with a Steve right now. Or the bald Jewish guy. Harry? Whatever. Back hair and all.

Yesterday was such a lovely morning. What the FUCK happened? No, I don't get an answer to that one. I get to formulate my own answer which, right now, is I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. I'm hurt, I'm angry and that's all I really care about.

Christ, my head hurts.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

It's getting all crazy up in here,

The kids are fighting. I think it's about to get ugly.

Tierney just played the "I'm not your best friend anymore" card.

*hides under desk*

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Things I learned growing up (and I think I turned out okay)

My children's stepsister told me her teacher said 'everyone is everyone's best friend'. If that was my kids teacher, I would want to throtttle her. Why set a child up for disappointment like that? I'm not saying to tell your kids that everyone is out to get them, but I think feeding them idealism like that is just setting them up for disaster.

Things I think children need to know (i'm kind of reiterating from a particularly disastrous thread that shall remain nameless):

-Everyone is worthy of your respect, until they do something to lose it.
-Everyone has the potential to be your friend.
-Not everyone is going to be your friend.
-Don't waste time on people who don't want to be your friend. Concentrate on treating well those who do.
-If you can walk away with your head high, then walk away.
-If you can't walk away, because someone is continuing to push you, then push back, with just enough force that they back off (I say this both figuratively and literally)
-Never throw the first punch.
-If you do, then you deserve whatever ass-kicking you receive.
-Know when to apologize
-Don't hold grudges. If someone wrongs you, let it go. Forgiveness takes less energy than hatred and vengeance.
-Forgiving doesn't mean forgetting. Just because you forgive someone wronging you, doesn't mean you have to give them the chance to do it again.

I think we as people don't give children enough credit for being able to handle simple truths. Although I don't believe in throwing children to the wolves, I do think that sheltering them incessantly from some of life's harsh realities only serves to do more harm than good in the long run.

Monday, April 16, 2007


So yesterday I had a lovely morning getting my children ready to go to my mom's so I could head down to Toronto for Sammi's bridal shower at Wendy's place. After a lovely drive down where I didn't even get lost and I only got honked at once, I got there. I had some lovely food and a lovely time with the girls while we had conversations about boys and toys and all manner of things. A lovely time, and I'm very glad I went, it was quite fun.

So I had a lovely drive home, only taking a half hour to get from the Danforth area, across the Don Valley Parkway to the 401, and then to the 400. I got to my sisters to pick the girls up and discovered she was having a lovely dinner party type thing with friends and lots of food (hot dogs and crabs legs!), so I had a lovely time socializing while my children played out side with the other children were there.

I drag myself away, get the girls all packed up to go home for the rest of what has been an absolutely lovely day, and My FUCKING CAR IS DEAD.

Frank, my bro-in-law type guy, and his friend check the car out. Shawn (Franks friend), his ever so cute 3-year-old son comes in and informs me again that 'you car is dead. Uncle fwank twied it and it's dead. It not workin.' My worst fears confirmed by a preschooler. It was upsetting and cute at the same time.

My mechanic just called. The starter, as was suspected. 350 bucks with parts labour and taxes. should be ready in about an hour and a half. Gignac's auto service kicks ass for being quick.