jump out, jump out, get your groove on [i lit a joint and burned my eyebrow] <$BlogRSDURL$>

Friday, April 30, 2004

my boy 

Thought I was going to leave you without a proper Friday post, did ya?
Grasshopper, you have much to learn.

My cell phone was beeping the other day while I was sitting at work. The 28th, to be precise. I answered it, and on the screen was this message:

Remember the snowstorm. Luv ya.

To fill you in, April the 28th, 2003 was when the Boy and I got together. We were hanging out at his house watching T.V., and we there ended up being a massive snowstorm that weekend. The roads were all fucked, so I ended up spending the weekend. I love my Boy, and here are ten reasons why:

1) He lets me make decisions for myself, without ever pressuring me to change them. Unless of course he's pretty sure that I'm making a really bad judgment call, in which case, he will advise me against said decision.
2) He doesn't ever tell me that I should 'order the salad instead', or that I really look like I need to go on a diet.
3) He calls me out when I am truly wrong about something, instead of convincing me that I am probably right.
4) He snores sometimes, but denies it.
5) He has one brown eye and one green eye.
6) He cooks me dinner all the time, while I sit lazily on the couch and watch television.
7) He passes on hanging out with friends sometimes, just to spend time alone with me.
8) He can't sing.
9) He tells me I'm beautiful, even if I can plainly see in the mirror that I look like crap.
10) He fought really hard to be with me and won.

Yeah. This is fucking sappy and sentimental. Whatever.


Once upon a time it was Friday. We all went out and got hammered. Happy Friday. The end.

There's an army
On the dance floor
It's a fashion
With a gun my love
In a room
Without a door
A kiss is not enough
Love my way
It's a new road
I follow where
My mind goes
They'd put us
On a railroad
They'd dearly
Make us pay
For laughing
In their faces
And making it our way
There's emptiness
Behind their eyes
There's dust
In all their hearts
They just want to
Steal us all
And take us all apart
But not in
Love my way
It's a new road
I follow where
My mind goes
So swallow
All your tears my love
And put on
Your new face
You can never win or lose
If you don't
Run the race

The Psychedelic Furs -Love My Way

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Songs on the random mix tape I fished out from under the driver's seat of my car this morning (yes, it's in a case, and all the songs are written on the insert, and I am listening to it right now because all I have in my office is a cassette deck. Pilfered from a fellow employee, might I add. Hey, if I brought my CD player, how quickly would THAT get stolen?):

1) The Pixies -Gigantic
2) Curtis Mayfield -Pusherman
3) Joni Mitchell -California
4) Blink 182 -Dammit
5) Wilco -Shot in the Arm
6) Talking Heads -Once in a Lifetime
7) Paul Westerberg -Waiting for Somebody
8) Psychedelic Furs -Love My Way
9) Metallica -Whiskey in the Jar
10) Sugar Cubes -Walkabout
11) Guns n' Roses -Sweet Child of Mine
12) New Edition -Candy Girl
13) The Doors -The End
14) Weezer -Say it Ain't So

I never said I was coherent when I made it. And I most definitely never said I was cool.

this ain't no mecca man, this place is fucked. 

I am immature. Anyone who has known me for awhile will tell you that. I am surrounded by friends who have essentially grown up, and are now so adult that sometimes I barely know who they are. But they are all in their late twenties after all, so I guess this is normal. I, on the other hand, am in complete denial about my age. I refuse to become one of these 'responsible adult' types. I frequently carry a purse shaped like a 'Hello Kitty' head. I dress like a skater even though I quit skateboarding years ago. I own WAY too many pink articles of clothing. My car looks like a sixteen year old drives it. I laugh too loudly and make fun of people in public. My cell phone ring is 'Insane in the Brain' by Cypress Hill. I think wearing sparkles on my skin when I go out is fun. My favourite book is 'Don't Care High' by Gordon Korman. I listen to eighties mix tapes in my car (yeah, I don't even have a CD player), and sing out loud to all the songs. I make silly faces when people take pictures of me. I've never been a bridesmaid in any of my friends' weddings because none of them thought I'd be responsible enough. Sometimes I'll scrounge up all the coins in my purse to pay for that last drink. I own Chuck Taylor high tops in eight different colours. I sometimes eat ice cream for dinner. My brother is two years younger than me, but everybody thinks he's the older sibling. So, what is with my reluctance to grow up? I just don't want any of the stress. Right now, I'm financially sound. I'm in good health. I am not paying a mortgage (yet). I don't have to make any car payments because I bought my vehicle second hand, for $3000. My insurance doesn't cost much because the car is second hand. I only have one credit card. I have a job that I don't have to be tied down to for the next however many years. I don't have to dress a certain way at this job to be taken seriously. Things are good this way, so I don't really see the need to suddenly change my behaviour due to the fact that I am of a certain age. Maybe one day I will see the need to finally grow up, but for now, what's the point? It's not like the world will suddenly implode because of my lack of maturity.

* * * * * *

I suck so bad. From now on, I'm just going to switch between commenting systems depending on which one is working better on any given day. Yeah, I know. I need to get a fucking life already.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

of sideshows and circus monkeys 

A question often posed to me that I mostly cannot understand deals with the playing of my viola. ::why don't you ever play for me, felice?:: Perhaps the answer is meant to be simple; I mean, after all, why couldn't I just pull my instrument out of it's case and play a tune for my friends? I guess I could. For the most part music has generally always been a very public endeavour. I love performing. Truth be told, I've always kind of enjoyed the fact that I can do something well that very few (if any) of my friends can do. There's something profoundly gratifying about playing in an orchestra, or as part of a chamber ensemble. I find a certain satisfaction in people approaching me and telling me how much my music has touched them. So what, you ask, is the difference between that and some random person asking me 'play a song for them'? Well, while my music has it's public side, it can also be a surprisingly private thing for me. Not meaning that I feel the need to hide it, or anything; just that there is definitely a depth to it that not everybody is fit to understand. When some random person asks me to 'play a song for them', they kind of put me on the spot. I find myself trying to figure out whether or not the individual fully understands that my playing the viola is not akin to a party trick. I can't just drop whatever it is that I am doing and play something on the fly, unless of course they are absolutely dying to hear me practice scales. And I'm pretty sure that such an individual doesn't always realize that music was never just a hobby to me; never the passing fad. I have poured almost every day (except for recently, but that will change soon enough) of my life into music. I have, on occasion, played until my fingers bled. I have practiced for hours and hours upon end because I couldn't quite get the fingerings in a certain passage of the Walton Concerto. I missed classes at school to compete in music festivals. I missed out on the cool kids' parties because I had to go to orchestra rehearsals. I could rarely join my friends to loiter in front of the Sev after school since I had music history, theory, and private lessons to attend. So if anyone ever considered it a mere hobby... I will them to the ninth circle of hell. Your hands do not bleed for a hobby. You do not miss school to compete in music festivals and sometimes only place second for a hobby. You do not jeopardize your chance at coolness for a hobby. Music has always been much more than that for me, and it always will be. And, yes, I guess I'm a little bit selfish about it. I am only willing to share with those who get that, or who are at least willing to try to get it. But I don't want anyone to treat my ability like a sideshow. I'm not a monkey on rollerskates, for fucks sakes. It's not that I'll never play for someone who asks; they just have to know that I'm only going to do it once they are ready to fully appreciate every minute of my 27 years that I have spent on music.

p.s.- all comments have gone off into the great beyond. i have effectively switched my commenting system to enetation, as HaloScan sucks my fine ass. sorry for the inconvenience... guess you'll just have to comment again.
also, i just figured out that your comment doesn't actually display until the main page is refreshed. good to know.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

spring and all that shit 

I never used to have allergies when I was younger. I mean, I probably have allergies that I am not aware of, but because I have never been in contact with these potential allergins (I'm talking out of my ass right now), they don't count. What does count is this horrible pollen allergy that managed to elude me all my life, then magically pop up two years ago. Now come spring, my eyes are itchy as all hell, and I can't seem to stop sneezing. Right now I am inside, and yet I seem to sneeze every two minutes. I really am a sight to behold as well; all bleary eyed and sniffling. I couldn't even find the motivation to take a couple of seconds to look decent for work this morning; I just threw on the cargo pants and flipflops and iced the whole fucking cake with my lovely Puma ballcap, which has been sitting (rather unceremoniously) in the trunk of my beast of a car for the past nine months. Jesus, I'm a piece of work.

My real beef of the day is that the house is a mess. It is literally getting to the 'ew, gross' point. But I refuse to touch the dishes. Why? Well, mostly because of the rank odour emanating from the sink. It's like someone left garlic in there to soak under water and it ended up rotting, thus, leaving a lovely stench for all to enjoy. No, actually, it's not like someone left garlic in the sink, it is that someone left garlic in the sink. Not to mention the growing ring around the tub, and the fact that the tub itself will not drain properly. I'd like to blame that one on myself (not the ring, the drain), seeing as how I have the longest hair... but I never wash my hair down the drain. So it really isn't my doing at all. I'm pretty surprised the mice haven't come back to live in the squalor that the members of our household so graciously provide for them. Maybe they have come back, who knows? But I so hate housework when it's this disgusting already. I think I'll just call a fucking maid service.

* * * * * *

If you're ever tempted to eat fast food for lunch, don't. I am currently remembering why I stopped eating it. The bloat in my stomach feels like death itself. No matter how much the T.V. tells you that the crap is good, hearty eating, just ignore it! It's not even worth it for like three seconds.

Monday, April 26, 2004

where is my mind? 

Don't you just hate when you can't account for pieces of your weekend because you were way too drunk? Sometimes it really bugs me, because having no idea what happened at a given time even though you were there is awfully sketch. But in a way, it suits me just fine because, honestly, do I really want to know? No, I don't really. So, that was my Saturday. Executed with finesse. As always.

My big problem these days is my developing apathy towards anything newsworthy. If I turn on the tube, it's always Iraq-this, Afghanistan-that. And that's not to say it's any better on the north side of the border; I really have no desire to hear anything further on the 'Sponsorship Scandal', brilliantly crafted by the Canadian government. It bothers me that I am so indifferent about such events, because ultimately they do have some bearing on my life, and some of the things that are happening in the world are disturbing and sad. Still, I'm a fucking idealist. That's my flaw-du-jour. I wish I could wake up one day and find that all news had been cancelled for the day; 'News has been pre-empted by everything else, due to the fact that nothing of any real significance has occured over the past 24 hours.' Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if we all would have been better off without the evolution of monkeys into people. Then I just realize I need to pull myself together and lay off the crack. It's so pathetic that I can't control my own damned brain.

* * * * * *
Note to self (but I'm not the only one reading)
It's actually been awhile since I burned my eyebrow while lighting that joint. Okay, I admit, it was actually more like a roach, and what was I doing holding a lighter that close to my face. Point of this babbling? My eyebrow looks fine now. Just like (pretty much) it used to look.

Saturday, April 24, 2004

saturday, blah, blah, blah... 

Just q quickie post, 'cause I barely ever post on the weekends. But anyway, I changed my stupid blogger button since it was fucking up the colour concept of my page. I mean, there is nothing orange in this blog. Not anything that I'm immediately aware of, anyhow.
So, yeah, that's it. That's all. Wasn't that just goddamn lame?

Friday, April 23, 2004


I decided to say fuck it to bitching about the pros and cons of cruise ships for today; so I totally ditched the post that was up before. Sorry if I made you read through the whole thing (yeah, it was all long and rambly), but it's Friday; I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm not feeling very creative today, but because I guess I can't leave you with nothing at all, I'll at least leave you with this:

Twenty Random Things

1) My breath smells like cheese.
2) There are four computers in this room. They should all be turned off except for the one I am working on, since I am the only one here. The one to my right is still on, and no one is using it.
3) I bought orange tulips for the living room table.
4) I want to dye my hair blue-black.
5) My friends are bizarre.
6) I would be sitting on the patio at the Ship right now if I wasn't working.
7) I think my car will be toast by the end of summer.
8) But I'm still spending money on getting it fixed.
9) The stapler on that other table is from the goddamned early sixties.
10) I hate not having a window to look out of.
11) Why does anybody have to work on Friday??
12) The dog next door won't shut up at night.
13) I need to do the laundry. Badly.
14) I'm already at number 14.
15) I was driving with my mom in my car the other day, and I kept forgetting where the hell we were going because I was a bit stoned. She still thinks I don't smoke weed. Or she's in super denial.
16) Honey roasted almonds are fucking awesome.
17) I still think Stevie Y is the hottest guy to ever play hockey.
18) I am disappointed to find that although The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is based on a true story, the real killer didn't even use a chainsaw, and he only killed two people. He got all the other bodies from robbing graves. Yuck.
19) Some people wear the most annoying-sounding shoes.
20) It's MY cable television. I pay for it, so I can watch whatever the fuck I want. And I do not feel like watching tennis or CNN right now.

It was like... well, you bloody know what it was like; you were THERE!
- me trying to convince my idiot friend that she was actually present that one time...

Thursday, April 22, 2004

remember me? 

Last night I went for coffee at the Chapters/Starbucks with my friend (okay, so I normally boycott Star-fucks with all the contempt in my little body but hey, someone gave me a Star-fucks card for Christmas, and it gets me free beverages and snacks there). Anyway, we ordered a couple of iced teas, then set out to wander around Chapters. I promptly went to the arts magazine rack to peruse the latest additions. As I was rifling through an issue of Mix, some guy standing nearby goes, 'Felice?' I looked up, kinda confused (who the hell ever knows me at a bookstore?), and then looked at the guy to see if I knew who he was. I totally did. It was this guy D***** I knew from junior high and high school. 'Oh hey,' I said, with not very much enthusiasm. He was one of those way-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good guys who all the girls had been completely in love with in high school, and who had never given me or any of my friends the time of day back then. The latest thing I'd heard ( a couple of my friends are really good at digging up current dirt on people we went to school with) was that he'd dropped out of college (more than once), and was currently not employed and living at his folks' place. Yeah, that's highly appealing.
Anyway, the 'conversation' went kind of like this:

D: You're looking good.

Yeah, no shit dude. But it's not like I look a hell of a lot different than I did ten years ago. So what the crap do you want?

F: Uh yeah, thanks. You're not looking too shabby yourself.

Okay, you're still hot. Whatever. I hear you dropped out of college. Twice.

D: What are you doing with yourself these days?

F: Just working. Drinking. Reading (holding up magazine, hoping he'll take the hint and leave). What about you?

I know you're doing nothing right now. Why did I bother asking?

D: Well, I was self employed before doing custom tiling, but now I'm trying to get into something else, so I'm not working.

See? Not working. Again, how appealing.

F: Gee, that's too bad. I'm sure it'll all work out, though (looking at watch). Hey, I have to find my friend. It was good to see you.

Not really so much.

So, this is the fucked up part:

D: Yeah, good to see you too! Hey, did you want to go for coffee sometime?

What*The*Hell*Dude??? Let me think about that. If I was 16, sure. But at this present time in my life? I'd rather drink hot bleach. For real.

F: Thanks, but I'm sure my boyfriend wouldn't like that. So, I'll see ya around, okay?

Um, no I won't.

D: Uh, yeah! See ya!

That's just bloody ridiculous. Did he assume I'd say yes? That's just plain creepy. I mean, sure, I can't help but feel sorry for the guy since he's the classic case of 'oh, how the mighty have fallen', post high school deterioration. But trying to capitalize on the fact that he was cool in an establishment of teenagers 10 years ago? That's taking things too far, in my opinion. That's the funniest thing about living in the same city you grew up in. At some point, your past will come crawling back, and try desperately to mesh with your present. As if I'm ever going to let that happen to me.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004


I am not a very nice person. This is something that gets brought up in certain conversations again and again, until it has become near impossible for me to ignore it any longer. The thing is, I used to always think I was a pretty decent person. I mean, at the very least, a tolerable person. But honestly, I do find myself questioning that quite a bit these days. I have already discussed my extreme lack of patience on this blog, but that impatience could very well be where my 'not niceness' stems from. Actually, fuck this 'could very well be' crap. I am plainly and simply a bitch. When I meet someone for the first time, even though I am polite, I secretly wonder what the hell they want from me. When someone does something too nice for me out of the blue, with no prompting whatsoever, I wonder what awful thing they must have done behind my back for them to want to make things up to me so desperately. I am indeed that much of a bitch. If I do something nice for someone, I always secretly hope they do something nice for me in return. If they don't, I always harbour ill feelings. Bitch. In my own defense, however, it wasn't always this way, and I still do have some redeeming qualities (in case some of you have already written me off as some kind of heartless, cold-blooded freak). I used to be the kind of girl who would trust anybody as long as they seemed sincere, and I was the first person to drop whatever I was doing and help people out. I always tried to see the good in people, no matter how shitty of a person they seemed outwardly. Then I fucking opened my eyes. People can act sincere even if they mean to rape and kill you, and stuff you into the trunk of a car. If you continually compensate for friends with no money, they start thinking it's okay not to have a job because you will take care of everything for them. Guys who buy you pretty things- and tell you you're beautiful, and say that they love you- will still call you a 'stupid cunt', maybe hit you, and cheat on you right in front of your face. There's fucking trust for you. That's exactly where being a nice person got me, and I just couldn't take it anymore. At the age of twenty, I became the most cold-hearted, untrusting, self-centered bitch in the entire world. And you know what? I didn't give a damn. It felt good to tell people, 'Sorry, I can't help you edit your paper. It cuts into my toenail painting time.' It felt good to drag a 'friend' out to the bar, find out they had no money to spend and say, 'Well, I'd buy you a drink, but I actually need to save the money to buy a television next month. I hope you don't mind.' It felt damn good to flirt meaninglessly with some guy, fuck him for one night, and then when he phoned a couple of days later, pretend I didn't have the slightest idea who he was, and yell at him for being a depraved, asian-girl-fetishist stalker. It was fucking empowerment for me. I believed I was a being the best me I could be, and not the stupid, trusting, easily disappointed, spineless, I'm-everybody's-best-friend girl that I was before. But wait. This is not where the story ends. At 27, I no longer feel the need to be the monster I've become. In fact, I kind of hate me a lot sometimes. But I know that I'm not a lost cause yet. Goddammit, I like helping people sometimes. And I think it's bloody awesome when someone talks to me just because they find me approachable (people really don't always want something from you). I've been with the Boy for almost a year now, and I've seen the way he treats people. He never expects anything from anyone. He does nice things for people because he wants to. And you know, to me, that is a hell of a lot braver than going around alienating people due to the fact that you've made yourself actually believe that you are better than them because you 'can't be hurt'. I really didn't 'open my eyes' when I started being a bitch. All I did was shut them tight, and duct tape them closed. I don't want to wake up someday and find that all my friends are gone because I drove them away. I don't want to be sitting in front of the television waiting for the Boy to come home one night, but he never does because he's with someone better. If this is the 'top'- if this is what it's like at the 'top'- then fuck, is it ever lonely. I don't want the stupid duct tape on my eyes anymore. I just want to come down and be with everyone else. It's a long fucking trip back, but it's worth the journey. I know it doesn't really change that I'm a bitch by nature, but I definitely think that I can at least try to be a nicer one.

sorry for the long-ass post. i needed to vent.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

jump on the bandwagon, yo 

My planned hermitage from technology is a no go. I can't do it without completely losing contact with certain people. What can I say, I tried. But not very hard. Besides, what the hell is more funny than having a cell phone with 'Insane in the Brain ' by Cypress Hill as a ring tone? Nothing much. And without e-mail and my blog, let's face it, I just wouldn't have all that many friends. Ha! Not really true, but let's just say both things keep me informed about the goings on outside of my little Cowtown world.

That aside, I am seeing a trend with the people around me starting to move out to the West Coast. If this continues, I may soon be forced (as I am ever the bandwagon-jumper-onner) to do the same in order to preserve my circle of friends. It all started last year with my friends D**** and G*** moving out to Vancouver for D to further his acting career. Since then, it seems everyone and their dog has made a beeline for the coast. My only problem with it would be the fact that I already have a few unsuccessful attempts to start a life in Vancouver under my belt. The first time I lived there, I was just too young and stupid to make it work. The second and third times, I just couldn't find a job that paid the bills without me working ridiculous amounts of hours. Plus, if I stay here for a few more years, at least I could afford real estate. Out there, I couldn't even afford a decent apartment. I mean, I probably wouldn't have to live off of East Hastings again or anything like that, but I know I couldn't afford anyplace I liked. But that's 'probably/maybe' talk for now. The Boy and I will probably end up sticking around Cowtown for awhile longer while he goes back to school, and I try to revive my music and writing career. However that ends up going. We've already discussed the fact that even in this city, going out costs money. In Vancouver it costs money too. Just a lot more of it that neither of us has. Meh. Like a friend of mine used to always say, 'I'll tell you where I am when I get there'.

* * * * * *

Random thought:

My contact lenses burn. Blink, eyes. Goddammit, BLINK!

I could show you a picture of pumpkin pie, and then a picture of some guy getting his head chopped off, and people would naturally assume things like that the pie was a people pie.
- something my brother said when i e-mailed him this.

Monday, April 19, 2004

stop laughing. it's not that funny. 

The Calgary Flames put up a good fight on Saturday against Vancouver. Then, they managed to go down 5-4 in triple overtime. But that's not what pisses me off. Trust me, it's not. What pisses me off is the fact that a) I watched the entire debacle in a bar that I rarely show my face in because I'm probably too cool to ever go there on a regular basis, b) I was standing the whole time because we were too goddamned stupid to get there earlier like we'd originally planned, and all the seats were filled upon our arrival just as the game was about to start, and c) Calgary didn't even win the fucking game, and all I ended up with were sore legs and tired feet.

That's my number one bitch about the weekend and hockey. Now for something that is else. Sometimes I think I argue with the Boy too much. And it's not even his fault. Like I've said before, I inherited two things from my mother; bad teeth and being a bitch. I guess that I could really stand to work on the second thing... I try. The Boy has one quality which I myself do not possess, and that is patience. I am the least patient person I know. When someone is more than ten minutes late, I can't stand it. I hate the commercials that interrupt my boob tube time. I cannot stand when someone is telling a story and goes A.D.D. and strays further and further away from the point (even though I do the exact same thing). When I come to pick up a friend to go out, I get pretty pissed if they haven't even jumped in the shower by the time I get to their place. All of that said, the Boy has vast reservoirs of patience. It's nothing short of amazing, and it kind of surprises me that we have been together for this long. This is not to say that he doesn't get short with me at times (who the hell wouldn't? I'm a drunken, complicated, loud, obnoxious musician), but he deals with my bullshit a lot better than anyone else. What can I say. He's a fucking champ.

* * * * * *

Ten Random Things

1) Something in the fridge at home is rotting. Big time.
2) I'm yoinking the pink thumbtacks I found in the room next to my office.
3) It's too quiet here. Like freaky quiet.
4) Why does no one else have a radio in their office but me?
5) Truthfully, I'm not sure Calgary is going to win the game tonight.
6) It was nice enough to walk to work today. I didn't walk.
7) The temperature gauge (or 'gage', to-may-to, to-mah-to... whatever) in my car is broken.
8) My mom made me go on a diet. I haven't lost very much weight.
9) I watered the Boy's plants this morning because they looked dying.
10) The pen-stealer is no more.

I'M no fun? YOU just don't do enough drugs.
- something I actually said to someone drunk one time

Friday, April 16, 2004

i'm breaking through, i'm bending spoons 

Why is it that a few years ago, I shunned all forms of technological progression, but now I can't seem to deal without it? I never had a cellphone until three years ago, and I was doing just fine without it. Now that I have one, I need to have it with me all the time. I get this impending sense of doom just from the battery unexpectedly going dead. This can't be very good. And e-mail and the internet. If I can't check my e-mail even one day, I start getting kind of twitchy. This also cannot be very good. To make it worse, last night I purchased a new cellphone that allows me access to my e-mail. Fuck, it's the beginning of the end. Seriously. In the next few years, I may have to consider hermitting (is that a word?) myself away from all forms of technology for awhile. A 'cleanse', if you like. I mean, after all, I used to be the girl who swore she would have nothing to do with the technological revolution, and found every excuse possible to live as a kind of 21st century hippie. Just a thought. I am actually not too sure how well it would work out for me. Goddammit. I have no willpower sometimes.

what the crap dude; my blog links were all fucked up and i had to go in and change them back to the right ones. what a pain in the ass.

* * * * * *

Today I'm wearing my ghetto light pink tuque. Okay, so it's not that ghetto because it's pink. Whatever. It makes me feel like a gangsta, alright? So in honour of my pink tuque, some Curtis Mayfield...

I'm your mama, I'm your daddy,
I'm that n**** in the alley.
I'm your doctor when in need.
Want some coke? Have some weed.
You know me, I'm your friend,
Your main boy, thick and thin.
I'm your pusherman.
Ain't I clean, bad machine
Super cool, super mean
Dealin' good, for The Man.
Superfly, here I stand.
Secret stash, heavy bread,
Baddest bitches in the bed,
I'm your pusherman
Silent life of crime
A man of odd circumstance,
A victim of ghetto demands.
Feed me money for style
And I'll let you trip for a while.
Insecure from the past,
How long can a good thing last?
No, no, no
Got to be mellow, y'all
Got to get mellow, now
Pusherman gettin' mellow, y'all
Heavy mind, every sign
Makin' money all the time
My 'E ID', and just me
For all junkies to see
Ghetto Prince is my thing
Makin' love's how I swing
I'm your pusherman
Two bags, please
For a generous fee
Make your world what you want it to be
Got a woman I love desperately
Wanna give her somethin' better than me
Been told I can't be nuthin' else
Just a hustler in spite of myself
I know I can break it
This life just don't make it
Lord, Lord, yeah
Got to get mellow, now
Gotta be mellow, y'all
Got to get mellow, now
I'm your mama, I'm your daddy,
I'm that n**** in the alley.
I'm your doctor when in need.
Want some coke? Have some weed.
You know me, I'm your friend,
Your main boy, thick and thin.
I'm your pusherman.
I'm your pusherman.
I'm your pusherman.
I'm your pusherman.
Lord, Lord

Curtis Mayfield -Pusherman

Thursday, April 15, 2004

it's a gin and juice, in case you were wondering 

There. I finally posted an actual picture of myself. Not me at my best, but then again maybe it is; I'm holding a drink, aren't I? Short story of that picture, that's me last Halloween dressed as a nun. From hell. You just can't see the horse whip and the slutty schoolgirl-plaid skirt because... well that wouldn't be any fun, now would it? There was a better photo of me and the Boy looking appropriately evil and depraved, but I promised him I wouldn't post any pics of him on my blog ever.
So, you just get this one. Lucky you.

* * * * * *

The season finale of The Apprentice is on tonight. Yeah, I know. I'm a fucking geek with absolutely no life, so I have to watch the boob tube to make up for it. But you already knew that.
What's so great about the two remaining contestants? Well, let's see... they did fuck all to get to the final two, except ride on the coattails of others and turn on the ::gee whiz... I'm such a fucking nice guy. You want me to work for you:: in the final interviews. I keep telling people that's truly the key to getting the job you want; don't give 'em facts- turn on the schmooze factor.
Hey, if it works on 'The Donald's' associates, it must work on everybody.

* * * * * *

Right now, I am so bored I could die. Or kill someone. Or convince someone to kill someone else.
Or just shut the hell up, because thinking about how to satisfy my boredom is getting me nowhere.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

flashbacks of the 'nam, snow in april, and dubya himself 

For once a title that actually warns of the contents of my post. Hey, I never said I was incoherent all the time. Sometimes I am actually just fucking on the ball.
Oh, but the 'flashbacks of the 'nam' part has nothing to do with anything other than my obsession with Vietnam war movies.

I woke up this morning to find that it had snowed overnight. Not a lot but, granted, it is still coming down as I speak (type, whatever). It is not nice fluffy snow either, I found out as I shovelled it off of my car. The snow itself does not actually suck so much, since I am beyond used to having it snow until the end of May. What does suck is that it tends to bring out the really bad drivers. You know, the ones who want to turn left at the intersection but didn't realize that early enough, so they put on their signal from the middle lane and then proceed to cut in front of the people who were in the turning lane to begin with. But in normal weather, this would never be an issue. I guess there just isn't a cure for stupidity after all.

Now for a completely unrelated issue; I caught the last half of the Dubya conference last night. What a guy (sorry if any of you are fans...); he is pure comedy, I tell you!
This was my absolute favourite:

QUESTION: In the last campaign, you were asked a question about the biggest mistake you'd made in your life, and you used to like to joke that it was trading Sammy Sosa.
You've looked back before 9/11 for what mistakes might have been made. After 9/11, what would your biggest mistake be, would you say, and what lessons have learned from it?

BUSH: I wish you'd have given me this written question ahead of time so I could plan for it.

But don't take my word for it. Take a read through the Bush Prime Time Conference transcript right here.
I never said I wasn't into politics. But I also never said I was into them for the right reason.

* * * * * *

That's as political as I am ever going to get. Now it's time to move on to hockey.
Although I am a diehard Toronto Maple Leafs fan, it's hard not to get excited over the fact that the Cowtown (oh alright, Calgary) Flames are in a playoff series with Vancouver. And that they kicked Vancouver's ass last night. In my opinion, I think that everybody should have at least three teams ( of whatever sport you're into) which they hold in high esteem. In hockey, I like the Leafs because I was born in TDot, and I have just always liked them since I was kid, I like the Wings because they have been a consistantly strong team (and because Stevie Y is hot even though he's old), and I like the Flames just by default of being my home team. Call it fickle and bandwagonesque if you want. You probably like the Ottawa Senators.

They could still be there. They could be hidden, like the 50 tons of mustard gas in a turkey farm.
- George W. Bush, President of the United States of America, on the topic of Weapons of Mass Destruction

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

i think i may still be drunk... 

Wow, it seems like I've been away from this thing for a long, long time. But in reality it has only been four days. I guess I probably could have posted shit over the weekend, since I was at home mostly, but I figured nah, who the fuck is gonna care? I had an okay weekend; I spent way too much money, and am going to regret it eventually, but not eventually enough. And yes, I am still a little drunk from yesterday. Not my fault; the liquor store was selling cheap ass cases of beer, and who am I to turn down cheap beer? In the ghetto that's just not an option. Fuck, is it ever?
My hair colour has been fixed finally. Never try to home-colour your hair (by yourself or otherwise) red if it is dark brown or black by nature. Chances are you'll misjudge what colour you're actually supposed to get and choose one that is too light for your hair. And it will turn orange. And you will have to schedule a hair appointment for Saturday at 9:30 in the a.m. so that your hair dresser can fix it. And it will cost a hundred bucks.
But holy shit, will it ever look hot. It is rock star hot, I tell ya. But you'll have to take my word for it.
Yeah. Enough about my fucking hair already.

A Public service announcement followed me home the other day
I paid it nevermind. Go away.
Shit so thick you could stir it with a stick
Free Teflon whitewashed presidency
We're sick of being jerked around
Wear that on your sleeve

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord,
Count your blessings.
We're sick of being jerked around
We all fall down.

Have you ever seen the televised St. Vitus subcommittee prize
Investigation dance? Those-ants-in- pants glances.
Well, look behind the eyes
It's a hallowed, hollow anesthesized
"save my own ass, screw these guys"
smoke and mirror lock down

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord,
Count your blessings.
the papers wouldn't lie!
I sigh. Not one more

Its been a bad day.
Please dont take a picture
Its been a bad day.

We're dug in the deep the price is steep.
The auctioneer is such a creep.
The lights went out, the oil ran dry
We blamed it on the other guy
Sure, all men are created equal.
Here's the church, here's the steeple
Please stay tuned--we cut to sequel
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord, Count your blessings.
Embrace the lowest fear/Ignore the lower fears
Ugh, this means war.

Its been a bad day.

Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord,
Count your blessings.
We're sick of being jerked around
We all fall down.

Its been a bad day...

R.E.M. - Bad Day

Thursday, April 08, 2004

it's the copout post, yo. 

Yep, I'm just too goddamn lazy to think of anything to post. But that's common knowledge, right? Anyway, here's my favourite Ben Harper song. Ben's fucking awesome. Reminds me of Bob. And he's hot, dude. That's why I included a pic. So there you have it.

Let us burn one
from end to end
and pass it over
to me my friend
burn it long, we'll burn it slow
to light me up before I go
if you don't like my fire
then don't come around
cause I'm gonna burn one down
yes I'm gonna burn one down
my choice is what I choose to do

and if I'm causing no harm
it shouldn't bother you
your choice is who you choose to be
and if you're causin' no harm
then you're alright with me
if you don't like my fire
then don't come around
cause I'm gonna burn one down
yes I'm gonna burn one down
herb the gift from the earth
and what's from the earth
is of the greatest worth
so before you knock it try it first
you'll see it's a blessing
and not a curse
if you don't like my fire
then don't come around
cause I'm gonna burn one down
yes I'm gonna burn one down

Ben Harper - Burn One Down

p.s.- i'm probably gonna be too lazy to update this thing in the next few days, so don't be surprised if there's nothing new in here before tuesday. and if there is, then it's probably because i was drunk and couldn't think of anything better to do with my time.
have a fucking awesome long weekend. i know i will...

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

well at least it's wednesday, right? 

As of today, I am fairly sure I won't be eating KFC again anytime soon. Bad enough that I decided to eat a cheeseburger for lunch yesterday, but then the Boy decided we should eat the 'dirty bird' for dinner. Okay, no probs, it's only the first time I've eaten it since I worked at the phone company, where they seemed to want to kill all their employees by ordering it time and time again for the office lunches. Anyway, I figured it would do me no harm. Why would I do a stupid thing like that? Not an hour after eating a drumstick, a small macaroni salad, and a small order of fries, I was wishing for death. And I remembered why I don't eat KFC often. I have come to the conclusion (well, actually, I came to this very conclusion in my first year of university) that the only 'herbs and spices' contained in the chicken seasoning are salt, pepper, and MSG. And, apart from the pepper, I don't think this constitutes 'herbs and spices' by any means. And I think I may have a problem digesting MSG. And excessive fat. Fucking crap. No one wants to hear about my gastrointestinal woes. Not even me.

* * * * * *

Welcome to my ghetto. It may not look so bad in the picture, but in real life it's fucking awesome. One day I'll post a pic of my house; then you'll really get an idea of how ghetto I am. No wonder my folks are *so proud of me*... I'm like their asian-trash daughter, eating KFC and smoking weed in the hood. Nice.

oh yeah, you can now download my title font through a handy little link i have provided. CanO suggested this. it is in the section titled ::Download My Title Font::.

The power of accurate observation is commonly
called cynicism by those who haven't got it.

- George Bernard Shaw

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

goddammit, there's a rock in my shoe... 

The biggest problem with living in a household of three, where two people work and one person doesn't, is often the one person who doesn't. Not that I actually give a shit that he doesn't work, since he's the one who has to worry about how to pay the rent every month, but the pain in the ass is when he goes out weeknights, then brings back some drunk friends to our house and they all stay up until the all hours of morning. Such an incident occurred last night. The Boy and I were soundly asleep, when said roomie and drunk friends came crashing home at what I will assume to be around 3:30 in the a.m.
If it weren't for all the stomping and flushing of the toilet (our room is under the bathroom), I don't think any of it would have mattered, but they didn't seem to realize (read: care) that we both had to get up for work within the span of the next four hours. So, you ask, why didn't you guys just get up and say something? This is just not an option on the fucking list at 3:30 in the morning. I mean, have you ever tried going back to sleep after waking up at that kind of time? It's not possible, I tell you.
Anyway, my point here is that sometimes friends really don't make the best roommates, since they tend to take for granted that they can do whatever they want and you won't care. Maybe you don't agree with me. Whatever. I'm way too fucking tired to even try and defend my point.

* * * * * *

Upon looking in the mirror this morning, I have come to the conclusion that the red/black hair thing may not be as bad as I had originally thought. Needs some blonde, though.

(Before I forget, I changed the title font for my blog. If you want to see my title in all it's glory, click here to download the font. It's called 'typewriter from hell'. But don't do it just 'cause I told you to.)

Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals such as hydrogen or
oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a
vital ingredient in beer.

- Dave Barry

Monday, April 05, 2004

so fucking what... 

Ten Random Things

1) People are afraid of me at first. Maybe it's my hair.
2) My car sucks.
3) Willem Dafoe is freaky, but I can watch him in any movie.
4) I hate people who try to be great at every sport, and the most knowledgeable on every topic known to man. Just pick one thing, excel at it, then move the fuck on with your life. No wonder you have no friends.
5) Jessica Simpson is like an ugly version of Britney Spears (quoted by my Dad).
6) I am banned for life from two city golf courses. What do they think is going to happen when they let people drink beer and drive golf carts? Jesus fuck.
7) I'd rather die than give up weed.
8) I have never met a girl named 'Amber' who wasn't a total bitch. Sorry if your name is 'Amber' and you're a really great person. I guess the ones here are all cows.
9) I have nice ankles.
10) Slap Shot is hands down THE BEST sports movie ever.

* * * * * *

You know how sometimes all you're doing is waiting around for something cool or exciting to happen? That pretty much describes my life these days. It seems that since I finished school, I no longer have any crazy exploits to report. Don't get me wrong, I'm no fucking Suzy Homemaker or any such shit, but I think I've definitely become sort of... boring. Well, my life has anyway.
I'm pretty sure it's my boredom that is spawning all the crazy talk about going back to school, and moving to a new city, and auditioning for a major symphony orchestra.
Because a) I can afford to take a couple of classes here and there, but I definitely can't afford to enroll as a full-time student right now, b) I most definitely cannot afford to move out of the city at this point in time, and c) I haven't practised (hard-core, anyway) my viola for about two or three years now. That would just be bloody embarrassing. That is how lame I have become in my late twenties.
Maybe I just need to start doing way more drugs.

holy fuck, batman, did anyone notice the superfuckingshittybad grammar right at the top of the page
for, oh i don't know, the past SIX HOURS??? it's been fixed, but fucking crap y'know?

Reality is just a crutch for people who can't cope with drugs.
- Robin Williams

Friday, April 02, 2004

you'll pay for what you've done when you reincarnate as a fruit fly... 

Sometimes my friends are IDIOTS. Seriously. I'll throw the short version of the story out there, but I can't actually guarantee the 'short'. After all, this is me, and my stories tend to turn into... you get the picture.
My friend is moving out of the apartment that she shares with her boyfriend (soon to be ex; good, he's a fucking loser) and moving into another place with these four kids she goes to school with. I say kids because, well, they are. She is at least ten years older than they are. But that really isn't the point. She is moving in on Saturday, and she has never even seen the place. That's right. Never, not even in a drunken stupor. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there something a little bit sketch about moving into a house that you know nothing about? What if there's mold? What if it smells funny? What if your room ends up being what was supposed to be the broom closet, but the people turned it into a room hoping for someone to move in, thus, decreasing rent all around? What if your room ends up being the living room (because I know absolutely nothing about picking numbers for rooms, and then getting the shaft and having to use a cardboard box as my closet)? Jesus fuck, there are so many things wrong with this picture. I have never moved into a place (well, no, I did once in Vancouver, but that's different since I wasn't twenty eight the time) that I didn't have a chance to check out first. I reckon it has more to do with my phobias than anything, but honestly, you end up saving yourself from so many potentially horrendous situations. Well, with five people in the house I just hope, for her sake, that there is more than one bathroom...

* * * * * *

This weekend is either going to be the best fucking weekend in a long time, or it's going to suck some major ass, all due to the fact that I've only got about $300 left in the bank until next Wednesday. Why the hell didn't I pay Mastercard bill last month like I was supposed to? And what made me so fucking keen on making such a huge student loan payment? Why does life involve so many decisions? I mean, the only decision I ever want to have to make is beer or vodka?
Fucking crap.

My one regret in life is that I'm not somebody else.
- Woody Allen