Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Blog Swap!
Todays guest post is brought to you by Jaime from
Show and Tell.
This is all part of the 20 Something Bloggers "Blog Swap 3".
Don't forget to go check out my post over on her site.
In the wake of this month's rulings banning same-sex marriages in the US, I just want to say something to the internet...
While the government can ban your attempt at marriage to the person you love based on your gender, they can not tell you you aren't allowed to love them. It hurts to not be treated as equals in every respect of your life. The right to marry whom you wish in this country, the Land of the Free, can't be overlooked forever. Because it is a right. Just because the churches and the government ban you from it doesn't mean you don't have that right. Just because they amend the Constitution of the United States, a piece of paper they ignore and edit as they please, does not take away your rights.
What is freedom? It's making your own choices to determine the course of your life. It's having the option, by default of being human, to choose what is best for you barring any infringement on the rights of others to live freely.
Same-sex marriage is NOT an infringement upon anyone else's right to life. It does not hurt anyone but taking away someone's right to marry the love of their life based on their gender or any other quality is hurtful. It's demeaning and it infringes on your right to freedom.
Who does same-sex marriage hurt? Who does it kill or maim? You can't overcome your prejudice or your fear of two men or two women marrying each other and why, because it bothers you? You don't have to like it or accept it for it to be reality. It ALREADY IS reality. If you could ban everything you didn't like, the world would be a small place indeed. I'm not going to give up fighting for anyone to retain their rights as humans.
It's time to grow up. I'm talking to mothers and fathers, to politicians and priests, to everyone in the world. It's time to grow up and not just realize, but understand that you can't control all of life, only what's yours. It isn't up to you to take away someone else's rights - because rights are something you're born with. Not something you're given. Something you're given is called a privilege. It's an allowance. A right is something inherent in everyone. Saying you can take away someone's right to marriage is like saying you're allowed to take away their right to breathe air. You can physically take it away but that doesn't make what you're doing right, no matter who you are. Whether you're a restaurant clerk or the President of the United States, wrong is wrong.
Monday, November 17, 2008
...
Monday again. This time acceleration thing is not something I'm enjoying. Especially since it is plummeting me straight into the dead of winter. blech.
All I want to do right now is read the rest of Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. How did I become so hooked on these freaking books meant for teenage girls? I must find out what happens. And it is hard to read them quickly because they are all 600 pages plus. Ack. I'll be finished the last one soon, then I can move along with my life.
Wednesday I am doing a blogger swap with another blogger from Twenty Something Bloggers, and I am very excited! It should be cool!!
Must. read. now.
All I want to do right now is read the rest of Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. How did I become so hooked on these freaking books meant for teenage girls? I must find out what happens. And it is hard to read them quickly because they are all 600 pages plus. Ack. I'll be finished the last one soon, then I can move along with my life.
Wednesday I am doing a blogger swap with another blogger from Twenty Something Bloggers, and I am very excited! It should be cool!!
Must. read. now.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Job Shark
I have had so many jobs in my life, that I sometimes feel like I’ve have lived a hundred times over. How have I possibly fit so many different, ridiculous jobs into my 25 years of life, of which I have only been working for 10? It seems kind of crazy. I know part of it is my absolute inability to stay at any given job for any longer than 1 year due to the fact that I just get bored and quit. Work has never seemed fun for me; it was always just something to do, so that I can do what I really want to do. Travel and write.
My first job was at a fast food restaurant, and I hated it. I had to wear an ugly ass purple uniform, complete with a hat, and I came home smelling of grease every day. I had to work the morning shift every Saturday and Sunday, so that job pretty much ate up my weekend. This job was my first real experience with people being absolute assholes for no apparent reason. I quit shortly after the day a guy yelled at me for putting a wrong ingredient on his hamburger. Honestly, if you get that worked up over a hamburger, something is not right in your head. That’s what I wanted to shout at the guy too, “It’s. Just. A. Hamburger!!” Of course I didn’t, because I was young and intimidated by the crazy guy yelling at me over mustard, but I think if it happened to me now, the guy would be getting a smack down. I lasted at this job for 10 months.
My next job was at Wal-Mart. It is probably unsurprising that I hated this one too. The uniform was equally as repulsive, maybe even more so. This job solidified a lifelong hatred of Wal-Mart for me.
The next job I had was working for the city. I spend my summer cutting grass, and painting doing other random odd jobs. I kind of loved it. I got to be outside, and everybody else that worked there was around my age (with the exception of the team leaders). We had a blast that summer. We would cut the grass, and then play baseball. Or we would fix the buoys in the lake, and then go boating for the rest of the day. To this day, tt was probably the greatest job I ever had. It only lasted for the summer though, and then I was back to school.
The next summer, I went back to work for the city, but I agreed to do a different job. Looking back on it now, it was clearly the wrong choice, but I agreed because it meant going in an hour later. My job this time was to count trees, and look for any potential signs of disease. This might seem interesting, but it wasn’t. We had to look at every city owned tree in the entire city. That’s a lotta trees. We got to type all the info into little palm pilots, and by the end of the summer, I was so bored with the whole thing, I would type stuff like “there’s a fungus among us” if I saw a diseased tree. Note to city: get students who actually know stuff about trees to perform tasks of this nature!
My next job was at a Sprout restaurant. I didn’t really mind this job at all. The people I worked with were great, and the food was amazing. This too eventually became boring though, despite the fact that we would routinely have dance parties at work. One day, I accidentally cut off part of my finger with some scissors, proving to myself that me and the restaurant business just weren’t meant to be.
Next job was a portrait studio. I had my moments with this job. Sometimes I loved it (like on pet day, or when the children were too young too speak). It is easy enough to make a baby smile…just play a little peek a boo behind the camera and you are good to go. Once they got older than two though, it was very trying. I am not the kind of person that is going to act all ridiculous just to get a child that doesn’t know me to smile. I usually left that up to the parents. Because a) I wasn’t getting paid nearly enough to make a complete ass of my self, and b) the child has no idea who I am, and would probably be more inclined to smile at their parents. This job lasted about eight months.
The next job after this was a front desk of a hotel. I almost forgot about this one. But I hated it. I realized after this job, that I usually ended up hating a job a whole lot more if I had to wear a uniform. It’s like, okay, not only am I taking crap from everybody that comes in here, but I have to do so while wearing an ugly ass uniform. NO THANKS. My best memory of this job was when someone else my age actually worked there, and there happened to be one shift where it was just the two of us working. Some guy gave us a bottle of wine he picked up at a local winery, and so we drank it, while cranking the radio and dancing. It is probably important to note that this hotel was not busy, and we spent most of our time sitting around doing nothing anyway. Wine and music just made the time past more quickly.
My next two jobs I loved, but they were contracts, so they eventually came to an end. I can’t dwell on them too long (it was for the same company and working with the same people, I just ended up getting two different contracts one after the other) as it still depresses me a bit that I don’t still work there.
So you see, the idea of a “career” in the traditional sense has always scared me. I think I would rather poke out my eye then spend 30ish years doing the same thing. I guess it’s possible though, that I just haven’t found the right job yet.
My first job was at a fast food restaurant, and I hated it. I had to wear an ugly ass purple uniform, complete with a hat, and I came home smelling of grease every day. I had to work the morning shift every Saturday and Sunday, so that job pretty much ate up my weekend. This job was my first real experience with people being absolute assholes for no apparent reason. I quit shortly after the day a guy yelled at me for putting a wrong ingredient on his hamburger. Honestly, if you get that worked up over a hamburger, something is not right in your head. That’s what I wanted to shout at the guy too, “It’s. Just. A. Hamburger!!” Of course I didn’t, because I was young and intimidated by the crazy guy yelling at me over mustard, but I think if it happened to me now, the guy would be getting a smack down. I lasted at this job for 10 months.
My next job was at Wal-Mart. It is probably unsurprising that I hated this one too. The uniform was equally as repulsive, maybe even more so. This job solidified a lifelong hatred of Wal-Mart for me.
The next job I had was working for the city. I spend my summer cutting grass, and painting doing other random odd jobs. I kind of loved it. I got to be outside, and everybody else that worked there was around my age (with the exception of the team leaders). We had a blast that summer. We would cut the grass, and then play baseball. Or we would fix the buoys in the lake, and then go boating for the rest of the day. To this day, tt was probably the greatest job I ever had. It only lasted for the summer though, and then I was back to school.
The next summer, I went back to work for the city, but I agreed to do a different job. Looking back on it now, it was clearly the wrong choice, but I agreed because it meant going in an hour later. My job this time was to count trees, and look for any potential signs of disease. This might seem interesting, but it wasn’t. We had to look at every city owned tree in the entire city. That’s a lotta trees. We got to type all the info into little palm pilots, and by the end of the summer, I was so bored with the whole thing, I would type stuff like “there’s a fungus among us” if I saw a diseased tree. Note to city: get students who actually know stuff about trees to perform tasks of this nature!
My next job was at a Sprout restaurant. I didn’t really mind this job at all. The people I worked with were great, and the food was amazing. This too eventually became boring though, despite the fact that we would routinely have dance parties at work. One day, I accidentally cut off part of my finger with some scissors, proving to myself that me and the restaurant business just weren’t meant to be.
Next job was a portrait studio. I had my moments with this job. Sometimes I loved it (like on pet day, or when the children were too young too speak). It is easy enough to make a baby smile…just play a little peek a boo behind the camera and you are good to go. Once they got older than two though, it was very trying. I am not the kind of person that is going to act all ridiculous just to get a child that doesn’t know me to smile. I usually left that up to the parents. Because a) I wasn’t getting paid nearly enough to make a complete ass of my self, and b) the child has no idea who I am, and would probably be more inclined to smile at their parents. This job lasted about eight months.
The next job after this was a front desk of a hotel. I almost forgot about this one. But I hated it. I realized after this job, that I usually ended up hating a job a whole lot more if I had to wear a uniform. It’s like, okay, not only am I taking crap from everybody that comes in here, but I have to do so while wearing an ugly ass uniform. NO THANKS. My best memory of this job was when someone else my age actually worked there, and there happened to be one shift where it was just the two of us working. Some guy gave us a bottle of wine he picked up at a local winery, and so we drank it, while cranking the radio and dancing. It is probably important to note that this hotel was not busy, and we spent most of our time sitting around doing nothing anyway. Wine and music just made the time past more quickly.
My next two jobs I loved, but they were contracts, so they eventually came to an end. I can’t dwell on them too long (it was for the same company and working with the same people, I just ended up getting two different contracts one after the other) as it still depresses me a bit that I don’t still work there.
So you see, the idea of a “career” in the traditional sense has always scared me. I think I would rather poke out my eye then spend 30ish years doing the same thing. I guess it’s possible though, that I just haven’t found the right job yet.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
haha Universe
I just spent the night at a lovely literary event, one which served as the large kick in the ass that I needed. That I continually need really. Something about being surrounded by other writers just feels comforting. Like, okay, maybe I can do this.
At one point someone sitting at my table said to me,
"So, are you a writer?"
To which I replied, "Yes. Erm, well, I try"
I still haven't quite figured out what I have to do to define myself as a writer. I write things, but does that make me a writer? I don't know. I like to dance too, but that doesn't make me a dancer. You know. It's a hard question to answer. I would like TO BE a writer, but I don't know if merely wanting it really badly is enough to warrant me actually calling myself one. Jury is out on this question.
The last time I took a writing course, I had the most wonderful teacher. She was one of the speakers at tonights little function. I still find her quite wonderful, and I really wish she were my teacher again. I find her inspiring, and I suppose she makes me feel like maybe I am a writer. It is really nice to have someone who does what you want to do, someone you admire and look up to say they are proud of you. It made me feel warm and fuzzy and a little bit hopeful.
I got home and went to check my email. What is waiting in there but yet another rejection, from yet another literary magazine. At least they got back to me I guess. Honestly, the rejections don't bug me too much, they just kinda make me want to try harder. I just found it funny that on the same night I went and got a kick in the ass, and a warm fuzzy feeling, that showed up. En.
At one point someone sitting at my table said to me,
"So, are you a writer?"
To which I replied, "Yes. Erm, well, I try"
I still haven't quite figured out what I have to do to define myself as a writer. I write things, but does that make me a writer? I don't know. I like to dance too, but that doesn't make me a dancer. You know. It's a hard question to answer. I would like TO BE a writer, but I don't know if merely wanting it really badly is enough to warrant me actually calling myself one. Jury is out on this question.
The last time I took a writing course, I had the most wonderful teacher. She was one of the speakers at tonights little function. I still find her quite wonderful, and I really wish she were my teacher again. I find her inspiring, and I suppose she makes me feel like maybe I am a writer. It is really nice to have someone who does what you want to do, someone you admire and look up to say they are proud of you. It made me feel warm and fuzzy and a little bit hopeful.
I got home and went to check my email. What is waiting in there but yet another rejection, from yet another literary magazine. At least they got back to me I guess. Honestly, the rejections don't bug me too much, they just kinda make me want to try harder. I just found it funny that on the same night I went and got a kick in the ass, and a warm fuzzy feeling, that showed up. En.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Daisy
Someone needs to adopt her, cause my heart cracks a little everytime I go in and she's still there:
She is 10 years old, and her owners left her when they moved out of their house. WHO DOES THAT? good lord. I hate people sometimes. The first time I saw this dog in the kennel, I actually started to cry. She just looked so sad. Then I took her outside, and we had a lovely game of fetch which she played forever. She kept going to get the ball, and then trotting back to me, slightly limping on one side, cause her hip was bugging her, something I imagine happens to all ladies when we reach that age. She wanted to take the ball into the cage with her, and I so badly wanted to let her. So I let her. Then I waited until she was sleeping, and then I snuck in and got the ball back. Can't have her ingesting the ball!
Her name is Daisy on her little form, but I really wasn't feeling that name. She was more of a "Lady" or a "Rosie". En. Daisy just seemed a little too young and fresh for me. She's still a spunky thing though, and oh so friggin nice. Someone please adopt this dog!
She is 10 years old, and her owners left her when they moved out of their house. WHO DOES THAT? good lord. I hate people sometimes. The first time I saw this dog in the kennel, I actually started to cry. She just looked so sad. Then I took her outside, and we had a lovely game of fetch which she played forever. She kept going to get the ball, and then trotting back to me, slightly limping on one side, cause her hip was bugging her, something I imagine happens to all ladies when we reach that age. She wanted to take the ball into the cage with her, and I so badly wanted to let her. So I let her. Then I waited until she was sleeping, and then I snuck in and got the ball back. Can't have her ingesting the ball!
Her name is Daisy on her little form, but I really wasn't feeling that name. She was more of a "Lady" or a "Rosie". En. Daisy just seemed a little too young and fresh for me. She's still a spunky thing though, and oh so friggin nice. Someone please adopt this dog!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The End is Coming
Last night I went to see a Mr. Gwynne Dyer speak at Brock. He is an amazingly smart man...gah, I wish my brain worked like his. He is a journalist, filmmaker, author, freelancer...he does all kinds of stuff. And he was a very good speaker. He has a new book out which deals with the issue of climate change.
When I first heard that that was what his talk was going to be about, I remember thinking, "can we possibly beat this to death anymore"? The answer to the question being, yes, we can. And we have too. Mr. Dyer's talk was pretty grim. I mean, there were some small flashes of hope, but the general conclusion was that mankind has screwed the pooch on this one. Before global warming gets better, it's going to get a whole lot worse, killing people off, one natural disaster at a time. Our food belts are going to become deserts, entire cities are going to be wiped out by rising ocean levels. Shit is grim.
You can't help but feel a little hopeless when you listen to him. Hopeless and a little resentful. Hopeless because he was all doom and gloom, we're going to die, we've done it now, famine, famine, famine, and resentful, because, way to go people in the past, look what you've freaking done! I listened to the first half of his seminar with mixed feelings of fear and que sera sera, because hey, if we are all going to die, we're all going to die.
He did lighten it up a bit during the second half, and a little light of hope was lit inside me. He talked about politics and how the biggest issue is going to be getting through the political bullniz. And ain't that the truth! Also, our Prime Minister is Stephan Harper. I dislike him. He just seems like a slow moving man, literally and figuratively.
Anyway! Dyer was talking about these two new technologies that could delay the affects of global warming. Shows how proactive everybody plans on being about these things! Instead of trying to fix it while we still got a shot in hell of doing so, let's invent things to push it back, push it back, so we don't need to really deal with it. Seems backwards. But in any event, these two technologies included: (forgive my complete lack of knowledge of any kind of scientific terms. Science is not my friend). 1) Sulfur drops that go into the engine of the airplane (or some other part that blows air out). Once these drops of sulfur are released into the atmosphere, they form a protective layer over the earth which thus reflects some of the sunlight, keeping the earth at a cooler temperature. 2)Some kind of yacht thing goes out into the ocean and settles itself under some low clouds, it shoots stuff into the air, and the clouds change it into....good god, I don't know. The point is, why don't we do things that are actually understandable now, instead of waiting 20 years, when we'll apparently all be living in the Jetsons.
Gah. Stuff like this is frustrating, because what exactly can you do. You get the lightbulbs, you buy the car, and yet here we still are, sailing towards global destruction anyway. Mr. Dyer ended his talk by pointing out that in a mere 10,000 years, all of our civilization will be for naught anyway, as we are going to enter another ice age. Them's the breaks I guess.
Anyway, I have no conclusion on this other than to say, I"m a little bit fearful of where this is all going. I'm a lot fearful actually. And I can't do a whole lot about it.
When I first heard that that was what his talk was going to be about, I remember thinking, "can we possibly beat this to death anymore"? The answer to the question being, yes, we can. And we have too. Mr. Dyer's talk was pretty grim. I mean, there were some small flashes of hope, but the general conclusion was that mankind has screwed the pooch on this one. Before global warming gets better, it's going to get a whole lot worse, killing people off, one natural disaster at a time. Our food belts are going to become deserts, entire cities are going to be wiped out by rising ocean levels. Shit is grim.
You can't help but feel a little hopeless when you listen to him. Hopeless and a little resentful. Hopeless because he was all doom and gloom, we're going to die, we've done it now, famine, famine, famine, and resentful, because, way to go people in the past, look what you've freaking done! I listened to the first half of his seminar with mixed feelings of fear and que sera sera, because hey, if we are all going to die, we're all going to die.
He did lighten it up a bit during the second half, and a little light of hope was lit inside me. He talked about politics and how the biggest issue is going to be getting through the political bullniz. And ain't that the truth! Also, our Prime Minister is Stephan Harper. I dislike him. He just seems like a slow moving man, literally and figuratively.
Anyway! Dyer was talking about these two new technologies that could delay the affects of global warming. Shows how proactive everybody plans on being about these things! Instead of trying to fix it while we still got a shot in hell of doing so, let's invent things to push it back, push it back, so we don't need to really deal with it. Seems backwards. But in any event, these two technologies included: (forgive my complete lack of knowledge of any kind of scientific terms. Science is not my friend). 1) Sulfur drops that go into the engine of the airplane (or some other part that blows air out). Once these drops of sulfur are released into the atmosphere, they form a protective layer over the earth which thus reflects some of the sunlight, keeping the earth at a cooler temperature. 2)Some kind of yacht thing goes out into the ocean and settles itself under some low clouds, it shoots stuff into the air, and the clouds change it into....good god, I don't know. The point is, why don't we do things that are actually understandable now, instead of waiting 20 years, when we'll apparently all be living in the Jetsons.
Gah. Stuff like this is frustrating, because what exactly can you do. You get the lightbulbs, you buy the car, and yet here we still are, sailing towards global destruction anyway. Mr. Dyer ended his talk by pointing out that in a mere 10,000 years, all of our civilization will be for naught anyway, as we are going to enter another ice age. Them's the breaks I guess.
Anyway, I have no conclusion on this other than to say, I"m a little bit fearful of where this is all going. I'm a lot fearful actually. And I can't do a whole lot about it.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Remembering
I remember.
A good man, a quiet man, a Canadian hero, my grandfather.
All those that came before and after him. That fought with him. That gave their lives. Past, present and future. As much as I love this country, I don't know if I would have the same courage.
Whether or not I support war, I will always support, honour, remember and be grateful to the men and women who gave their lives and made such tremendous sacrifices for the wonderful country that I now have the privilege of living in.
A good man, a quiet man, a Canadian hero, my grandfather.
All those that came before and after him. That fought with him. That gave their lives. Past, present and future. As much as I love this country, I don't know if I would have the same courage.
Whether or not I support war, I will always support, honour, remember and be grateful to the men and women who gave their lives and made such tremendous sacrifices for the wonderful country that I now have the privilege of living in.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday, Monday
Ah, I went away this weekend, and it was kind of nice. Sometimes I feel very much like I must leave this city immediately, and I was feeling that way last week, so it was good. It wasn't a relaxing weekend per say, but I did enjoy the change in scenery.
I was looking forward especially to being in the US of A because I thought there might be some kind of noticeable excitement about Obama. Not where we were. Where we were, I was afraid to even say the word "Obama" for fear I would be shot. Weekends like this remind me just how different Canada and the United States really are. God, as much as I would have liked to be American last Tuesday to experience the election, I am so happy and thankful to be Canadian.
You see, my aunt has a place in Great Valley, New York. It's in the hills, and the locals well, they come from the hills. You know the type of people I am talking about. It's weird, because Great Valley is right by Ellicotville, which is this cute, posh little town. Although, I suppose most of the people that live there are actually rich Canadians or Americans.
Anyhoo. Beside my Aunt's place is a pub. The pub is about the size of a large living room. It smells like grease, there is a pool table, a dart board, and somebody would have to pay me a large sum of money to use the washroom there. This pub is literally a stone's throw away from my Aunt's place. Saturday night at the pub was karaoke night, which we practiced for all weekend leading up to the big night. We being me, and 9 other women. So Saturday night, we stroll over. The place is hopping, because well, it's the only place to go really. We all got a beer, and then proceeded to pull our chairs into a nice little semi circle facing the singing "stage". We grabbed a song book and began to ponder over which song we would sing first.
Before we picked a song, this girl I never met before, really nice, but straight from the 80s, came over to me and what like, "do you want to sing Friends in Low Places? Get all your girls, we'll sing it". "Okay!" I say. Really, Friends in Low Places was THE most appropriate song ever to sing, especially with this random girl. After we all went up and sang it, and did a hell of a job by the way, we all proceeded to go back to our semi circle. This is when this girl comes over to me and strikes up a conversation about Garth Brooks. I like me some Garth, who doesn't, but I can only talk about him for so long. The conversation went like this:
Her: "I love Garth!!"
Me: "Me too. Who doesn't really?"
Her: "But my favourite song is Unanswered Prayers"
Me:" "Yes (trying to remember how that song goes, or any other Garth Brooks song for that matter), that's a good one! I like Standing Outside the Fire"
Her: "oh yeah, that's one's awesome. I also like "some Garth Brooks song"
Me: "mmmmmhmmm" This is the point where I pretty much end the conversation by staring at her blankly. She goes to pick another song from the book.
While all this is going on, we sporadically get up and sing "Shoop Shoop Song" "Stop in the Name of Love", etc and so forth. At one point, I was sitting in my chair, when this bearded guy with the hugest gap in his tooth wanders over to me. He kind of puts out his hand, like he wanted a high five, so I slapped his hand. Then, he was like "Helllllo", and petted my hair for a good while. It should be noted that his pregnant girlfriend was over by the bar. It should also be noted that everybody in this bar knew each other. Also, two of the patrons of the bar are, a biker looking guy, and his slutty stripper girlfriend, who had the nastiest longest hair ever, which she kept flipping over her shoulders and in front of her eyes, like she was the sexiest thing on earth. She wasn't.
So this biker dude, who we find out is part Indian, gets up to sing. He's like "I don't want any music or words, I'm going to sing my own song." So he sings a song from an Indian pow-wow (I"m guessing). This song is interspersed with english lyrics such as "I want to walk with you in the moonlight". The song lasted forever. We clapped like maniacs when he was done, because, what else are you going to do? While this guy was singing, Slutty Hair came over and started dancing all up on him. And he continued to sing.
Perhaps half and hour passes.
He gets up to sing again. It sounded like the same song. After this song, the applause was slightly less. We got up to dance to Crocodile Rock and Mony, Mony. At some point during one of these songs, my aunt decided to run her fingers through Slutty's hair, because the girl kept flinging it, and it would hit us. The look of horror on my face when she did it was probably uncalled for, but EW!
So we all sit back down in our semi circle. Biker and Slutty start dancing in the middle. All of a sudden, Slutty does a high kick, which lands approximately 1 inch from the face one of the ladies I was with. We were all kind of like "what the hell is happening?" Then all of a sudden, one of the locals come over and was like "She's going to kick your ass!" We were all utterly confused, because...what?" Then the local lady is like "I'll be a distraction, so you guys can leave". So she takes up the entire dance floor (which really wasn't hard), and starts flailing her legs and arms, while we all got the hell out of dodge.
We left before we got to sing Dancing Queen, and it was sad, but it beats getting your ass kicked by a Slutty Stripper, her Biker Boyfriend, and their band of hill people. We tried to figure out what set her off, but nobody did anything worthy of a beat down. There was the hair run through...buuut she didn't throw the kick at my aunt, and she didn't even seem to notice when it happened. We concluded that perhaps her biker boyfriend was eyeing up S, Slutty didn't like that, and then tried to kick her.
It was so freaking weird. And although I have never encountered that anywhere else in the States, and lord knows there are crazy people in Canada too, it still made me mighty glad I was Canadian.
All in all, it was a pretty great weekend.
I was looking forward especially to being in the US of A because I thought there might be some kind of noticeable excitement about Obama. Not where we were. Where we were, I was afraid to even say the word "Obama" for fear I would be shot. Weekends like this remind me just how different Canada and the United States really are. God, as much as I would have liked to be American last Tuesday to experience the election, I am so happy and thankful to be Canadian.
You see, my aunt has a place in Great Valley, New York. It's in the hills, and the locals well, they come from the hills. You know the type of people I am talking about. It's weird, because Great Valley is right by Ellicotville, which is this cute, posh little town. Although, I suppose most of the people that live there are actually rich Canadians or Americans.
Anyhoo. Beside my Aunt's place is a pub. The pub is about the size of a large living room. It smells like grease, there is a pool table, a dart board, and somebody would have to pay me a large sum of money to use the washroom there. This pub is literally a stone's throw away from my Aunt's place. Saturday night at the pub was karaoke night, which we practiced for all weekend leading up to the big night. We being me, and 9 other women. So Saturday night, we stroll over. The place is hopping, because well, it's the only place to go really. We all got a beer, and then proceeded to pull our chairs into a nice little semi circle facing the singing "stage". We grabbed a song book and began to ponder over which song we would sing first.
Before we picked a song, this girl I never met before, really nice, but straight from the 80s, came over to me and what like, "do you want to sing Friends in Low Places? Get all your girls, we'll sing it". "Okay!" I say. Really, Friends in Low Places was THE most appropriate song ever to sing, especially with this random girl. After we all went up and sang it, and did a hell of a job by the way, we all proceeded to go back to our semi circle. This is when this girl comes over to me and strikes up a conversation about Garth Brooks. I like me some Garth, who doesn't, but I can only talk about him for so long. The conversation went like this:
Her: "I love Garth!!"
Me: "Me too. Who doesn't really?"
Her: "But my favourite song is Unanswered Prayers"
Me:" "Yes (trying to remember how that song goes, or any other Garth Brooks song for that matter), that's a good one! I like Standing Outside the Fire"
Her: "oh yeah, that's one's awesome. I also like "some Garth Brooks song"
Me: "mmmmmhmmm" This is the point where I pretty much end the conversation by staring at her blankly. She goes to pick another song from the book.
While all this is going on, we sporadically get up and sing "Shoop Shoop Song" "Stop in the Name of Love", etc and so forth. At one point, I was sitting in my chair, when this bearded guy with the hugest gap in his tooth wanders over to me. He kind of puts out his hand, like he wanted a high five, so I slapped his hand. Then, he was like "Helllllo", and petted my hair for a good while. It should be noted that his pregnant girlfriend was over by the bar. It should also be noted that everybody in this bar knew each other. Also, two of the patrons of the bar are, a biker looking guy, and his slutty stripper girlfriend, who had the nastiest longest hair ever, which she kept flipping over her shoulders and in front of her eyes, like she was the sexiest thing on earth. She wasn't.
So this biker dude, who we find out is part Indian, gets up to sing. He's like "I don't want any music or words, I'm going to sing my own song." So he sings a song from an Indian pow-wow (I"m guessing). This song is interspersed with english lyrics such as "I want to walk with you in the moonlight". The song lasted forever. We clapped like maniacs when he was done, because, what else are you going to do? While this guy was singing, Slutty Hair came over and started dancing all up on him. And he continued to sing.
Perhaps half and hour passes.
He gets up to sing again. It sounded like the same song. After this song, the applause was slightly less. We got up to dance to Crocodile Rock and Mony, Mony. At some point during one of these songs, my aunt decided to run her fingers through Slutty's hair, because the girl kept flinging it, and it would hit us. The look of horror on my face when she did it was probably uncalled for, but EW!
So we all sit back down in our semi circle. Biker and Slutty start dancing in the middle. All of a sudden, Slutty does a high kick, which lands approximately 1 inch from the face one of the ladies I was with. We were all kind of like "what the hell is happening?" Then all of a sudden, one of the locals come over and was like "She's going to kick your ass!" We were all utterly confused, because...what?" Then the local lady is like "I'll be a distraction, so you guys can leave". So she takes up the entire dance floor (which really wasn't hard), and starts flailing her legs and arms, while we all got the hell out of dodge.
We left before we got to sing Dancing Queen, and it was sad, but it beats getting your ass kicked by a Slutty Stripper, her Biker Boyfriend, and their band of hill people. We tried to figure out what set her off, but nobody did anything worthy of a beat down. There was the hair run through...buuut she didn't throw the kick at my aunt, and she didn't even seem to notice when it happened. We concluded that perhaps her biker boyfriend was eyeing up S, Slutty didn't like that, and then tried to kick her.
It was so freaking weird. And although I have never encountered that anywhere else in the States, and lord knows there are crazy people in Canada too, it still made me mighty glad I was Canadian.
All in all, it was a pretty great weekend.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Yes We Can!
Wow, I'm not even American, and I'm ridiculously excited about Obama's win last night. It was so amazing to watch. I would have loved to be in Chicago last night, I can't even imagine how awesome that must have been.
I'm way more enthralled by this election then the election in my own country. Like always, everything America does just seems so much bigger, louder, and more impressive.
I love Canada, I really do, I think it's the best country in the world, but I also really enjoy Barack
My hat's off to you Obama! I cannot wait to see how you are going to change the world.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
VOTE!
I can feel the excitement about today's election spilling over the border. I'm pretty jazzed, I must say. I don't think I have ever been this interested in an election in Canada. I mean, I'm always interested, but I've never been this...anticipatory.
I hope there is record voter turnout in the US of A today. I was thinking this morning that today is a day that could possibly change history, and hopefully it will be one of those things you can tell your children-"I remember where I was when Barack Obama got elected the President of the United States of America" (here's hoping).
As much as Canadians say that we are tired of hearing about the American election, and try to distance ourselves from all things American...let's face it, it affects us too. It affects the whole world! It's an exciting, exciting thing to see a country filled with such hope. It reminds me of...I don't even know, I have never experienced such excitement about a political candidate before, and it's great to see.
No more W. Hopefully no John McCain (seriously...he looks like he could possibly drop dead at any given moment...I don't think I would want him running my country. Especially considering who is his replacement. SCARY!). I'm so excited to see how America votes.
Barack Obama! (sung ala Saturday Night Live skit by Obama Girl)
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Happy November!
Oh Halloween. Skanky costumes abounded. Slightly amusing and slightly appalling. What else was appalling, was the fact that we waited 1hr and 45 minutes for a taxi to bring us home at the end of the night. It was cold out. We kept calling and calling, but it was busy, and when I finally got through to a guy, and told him where we were, someone else ended up stealing that cab. The four of us were standing on the corner, shivering, when this van drives by, the guy calls out the window, "you guys want a speedy?".We all kind of looked at each other, and were like..."ummm, no thanks". It was little sketchy. Fast forward an hour, the SAME guy in the van drives by, and is like "now do you want a speedy?" Tails between our legs, we got in. Speedy guy mocked us all the way back to my friends house. He's like, "i can understand if I was in a shitty car, but I"m in a nice van!". Dude. Because nothing bad EVER happens in vans. Vans are like the poster car for abductions and rape. In any event, we eventually made it home. And that was Halloween. My costume sucked. I had big visions for it, but it really just sucked. Next year, I vow to be better.
Today, I partook in one of my favourite pastimes ever. Loitering around Chapters while drinking coffee from Starbucks. I could spend hours there. I usually end up buying at least one book too. It's never merely "just browing" process. Today I bought this book,and it's pretty damn good so far. I like her style.
While I was browsing the books, I came across one called "Old Dogs are the Best Dogs". For some reason I felt compelled to look in this book. Now, I will tell you, there are a couple things that ALWAYS make me cry: 1) old people eating alone in restaurants, 2)three legged dogs, 3)any story about a dog. I don't know why. I could be reading a story in the paper about Lucy the helper poodle, who visits people in old age homes, and I will cry. Forget about if I'm reading a "dog saves human" story. So this book had pictures of old dogs, and then a little story about the dog. "So and so is 13 years old, and his family took him in after he was found starving and chained to an outdoor dog house." I read that story and got misty eyed, and yet continued to read. I eventually had to stop myself, because who wants to be the crazy girl in Starbucks, crying while reading a book about dogs she has never and will never meet. I have issues. And clearly a small obsession with dogs. Anyway, I kinda want the book for Christmas, because, while it makes me cry, they are happy tears, because the dogs are old and loved, and very cute with their white scruffy faces. Sigh.
It's weird that it's November already. November has always been a very blah month for me. It seems to drag along,and nothing really happens. The days get darker and colder, and you get no three day weekends.
Today, I partook in one of my favourite pastimes ever. Loitering around Chapters while drinking coffee from Starbucks. I could spend hours there. I usually end up buying at least one book too. It's never merely "just browing" process. Today I bought this book,and it's pretty damn good so far. I like her style.
While I was browsing the books, I came across one called "Old Dogs are the Best Dogs". For some reason I felt compelled to look in this book. Now, I will tell you, there are a couple things that ALWAYS make me cry: 1) old people eating alone in restaurants, 2)three legged dogs, 3)any story about a dog. I don't know why. I could be reading a story in the paper about Lucy the helper poodle, who visits people in old age homes, and I will cry. Forget about if I'm reading a "dog saves human" story. So this book had pictures of old dogs, and then a little story about the dog. "So and so is 13 years old, and his family took him in after he was found starving and chained to an outdoor dog house." I read that story and got misty eyed, and yet continued to read. I eventually had to stop myself, because who wants to be the crazy girl in Starbucks, crying while reading a book about dogs she has never and will never meet. I have issues. And clearly a small obsession with dogs. Anyway, I kinda want the book for Christmas, because, while it makes me cry, they are happy tears, because the dogs are old and loved, and very cute with their white scruffy faces. Sigh.
It's weird that it's November already. November has always been a very blah month for me. It seems to drag along,and nothing really happens. The days get darker and colder, and you get no three day weekends.
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