Hockey fans and Whatnot

So the other night when we were on our way into the amphitheater to see that band, what, the radioheads or something, my ticket was checked by a guy in a Maple Leafs tshirt. I made fanboy flappy gestures about the obviously well worn specimen and the guy asked if I happened to be Canadian. I said yes, and I was disregarding the fact that he was wearing a LEAFS shirt because of the overall coolness of seeing a Canadian hockey tshirt in pretty much the southernmost part of California. Really, seriously, I should be mocking him because, well, it's the Leafs, let's not kid.

He said actually I'm a Canucks fan I'm from Vancouver. I was being pushed along by the crowd so couldn't smack him for wearing that trash as a Vancouerite. If I'd known I would have taken him out.

The funny part though was the look on my friends' faces at the chances of running into another Canadian hockey fan while going to see a British Band in the US of A.

We're everywhere.....

Snatch my body any day, mr Yorke.

So yeah, I went to see Radiohead at Cricket Amphitheater last night. Wow is really the only possible response. I mean, besides contemplating the fact that my irritation with all of the drunken assholes perhaps shows a bit of my age, but we won't talk about that in this forum. We here at the Sundae Sanatorium are content to wallow in our own disillusions, thank you very much.

Anyhoo, yeah, so Radiohead is f'ing incredible. The amphitheater has a pit area, seated balconies, and then the top lawn, and we were in the second row of balconies, but more or less directly behind the sound booth at DEAD centre; basically, the sound and lightshow was all set up exactly for us. Can't really go wrong with that, huh? The only thing that could have made it better would have been if the architect had been able to go with me. Unfortunately he had a bit of a snafu with a project and wasn't able to get away in time. Fortunately, though, a friend was only to happy to warm his seat for him.

$12 beers are less than exciting, but what are you going to do? At least it was good beer, not piss-poor molson in a plastic cup.

setlist (for those who care):
15 Step
Airbag
There There
All I Need
Nude
Talk Show Host
Where I End and You Begin
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
The Gloaming
Faust Arp
How to Disappear Completely
Reckoner
Optimistic
Jigsaw
Pyramid Song
Climbing Up The Walls
Bodysnatchers

FIRST ENCORES
House of Cards
You and Whose Army?
Just
Paranoid Android
Street Spirit (Fade Out)

SECOND ENCORES
Videotape
Lucky
Everything In Its Right Place

A simultaneously awesome and terrible personal sidenote:

The kiddo turns 9teen today. Those of you who've been around for a while may recall some of the crappy stuff he's gone through, so I just thought I'd fill you in =)

It's interesting

...how reading stuff I love doesn't always inspire me to blog, but being irritated usually does. I'm sure that's extremely healthy. Heh.

I won't get into what it was that irritated me specifically (I don't want to open a big ol' can of shitstorm here) but suffice it to say that I read some blogger's posting, disagreed with it and with most of the comments, replied along that vein with backup facts and links, and, after moderation, the blog-owner failed to post it. While I agree that everyone has the right to control the comments on their space, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me to refuse to encourage respectful dialogue within an internet forum. Well, unless you are afraid of being proven wrong, of course.

Whatever, though, I happened upon this blog quite randomly and cannot fathom going back, as there are so many good blogs out there.
----------------

Anyhoo...
Now that I'm down in Amurrika, I get to listen to Pandora again, which rules. It's such a cool way to discover new music, and there's even an application for my iPhone*. Last night while I was cooking dinner I felt like listening to some groovy cocktail type chill music, so created a station based on Thievery Corporation. It occurred to me at the time that this station would be equally fantastic for both dinner parties and sexytimes. Now these two activities don't appear to be that similar (orgiastic Romans aside), but when you think about it, they aren't that far apart, either. Both involve two (or more) (perverts) people coming together for sensual exploration. Both have begin with an appetizer, a main course, dessert, and cleanup. (I'm purposely leaving out the salad and cheese courses, because, well, ew.) For both events, you want a soundtrack which enhance the experience but doesn't distract from it - preferably something that has a bit of a groove and will fill in any quiet spaces. Something sexy - the musical equivalent of a seduction; a sultry look or an oyster** or strawberry dipped in champagne.

Or at least that is what I generally prefer when in le boudoir - nowadays, anyway. Back when I was younger my stereo was usually playing ministry or something equally aggressive. But then my definition of a really fancy dinner was fettuccine alfredo and a glass of chilean cabernet, so there's no accounting for the tastes and predilections of a 19 year old, I suppose.



* Yes I said iPhone! I am now the proud owner of a new 8gig 3G iPhone, thanks to the always handsome and charming Architect. Yay for husbands!
** I actually don't like oysters, and have recently discovered a bit of a nasty allergy to shellfish. However, I hear that they work well as an aphrodisiac, so there it is.

read this

I missed it a couple - 3 weeks ago but you should read it now.

r/r

I recall having a conversation, one day, fueled by wine and probably a little weed, a conversation between a first nations girl, a girl who's parents escaped from Czechoslovakia in the early 70s and me, a girl who's dad grew up Catholic in Belfast. The F/N girl was getting passionate about cultural genocide and racism and I couldn't knock her for it - she was making some valid points and speaking some very powerful truths. I did get a little upset, though, when she told me that I couldn't know what she'd been through; what her grandmothers had been through.

I tried to talk to her about the fact that my dad was always very quiet about the kind of crap he suffered as a boy, but I knew that my grandpa had a hard time getting a job because he married a catholic, and he had to work for less money and walk to work barefoot so he could save his shoes for on the job. And I knew that when I was visiting my cousin we came really close to getting shot because he said "H" the wrong way. And I know poor lucky the leprechaun is still chasing after his lucky charms and that every fat frat boy and his douchebag cousin wear 'blow me I'm irish' tshirts and puke green beer every March 17. I know about cultural appropriation and having your myths and stories turned into a pot full of jokes at the end of the rainbow, and about having your language banned and almost lost. I know I'm a generation removed from it but I didn't get to learn gaelic at home because the english said my dad wasn't allowed to learn it when he was a boy.

Maybe it's different. I don't know. But I think that maybe there are a lot of people out there who know what it feels like to be told they aren't good enough. I think that maybe it's not about the colour of your skin it's about being a good person and loving the people around you and remembering that we are all part of the same family, really.

But anyway, yeah, listen to Ryan 'cause he's smarter than I am and says it way better.

ug

Man, so I've been trying to get into psychiatric intake stuff down here b/c I don't have any insurance so need the free crap. Of course, it's fucking impossible. There's one at UCSD that I've been calling and calling and calling. Finally someone called me back and told me I have to call in on Monday mornings only, and just let it ring until someone answers. Ok so I did that and no one answered till almost 8.30, at which point they told me that all the spaces for this week were filled and that I would have to call back next Monday morning and just let it ring until someone answered. I said 'Well that's what I did today" and they replied "Yes, but it's 8.30 now, and all of the spaces have been filled".

GOD.

scra(m)bbling

Fucking hell my sweet sweet facebook scrabble has been shut down! The powers that be at facebook have caved to Hasbro and taken the scrabulous app offline. I may cry. In fact, I died a little inside when I logged on and tried to play my turns.

I'm not sure what I'll do all day. The new EA/Hasbro app blows chunks. They've over engineered it to be a wanna be GTA6 or something and it isn't working at all.

I dunno what this world is coming to. The Sasquatch has left Kokanee country in search of Montreal, hoping for an indie music deal or at least a fashion shoot; scrabulous is dead; and an earthquake shook LA without delaying the release of the new Lost Boys movie. I can't see the forest for the trees, kids, and even Corey Haim can't help us now.

it's my party and

I will talk about my impending wedding reception if I want to.

Yes we are still having one (for those of you who've been privy to some of the scuttlebutt leading up to it) it's just taking us a while to get off the ground with the planning and the invitations. Part of it is because we've been broke as fuck, and part of it is because... well that's the whole reason, actually. Everything costs money, you see, and food / wine are just more important than spending money on an event that is months away.

Oh except that it's now only 2 months away, now, and all of a sudden everything urgently needs to be done - especially the invitations. Getting the architect to understand this, of course, is not the easiest thing on the planet to do. He's a last minute, arrive 15 minutes late kind of guy. HOWEVER that sort of lackadaisical attitude will simply not do, in this situation.

Le sigh.

I've been vaguely tracking the progress of the smelly-ciavarro nuptuals and am amazed at the stuff that they are doing that we didn't do. Engagement photos? What? Showers? Nope, none of those... Hmph. I can't decide if I'm relieved that I escaped the stress involved, or disappointed that we didn't go all out. Whatevs, I guess. I'm leaving my sister in charge of planning the 'deck the hall' girls only party for the night before the reception. I figure as my pseudo maid of honour it can be her job. If anyone out there, though, wants to help her out (you know who I'm talking to, Filthy, Van-nasty) I'm sure she'd love the assistance.

Oh and a big HOLLA and a cyber-shot of fireball to van-nasty, the nasty one herself. It's her birthday, after all.

all of them are talking, and they're comedians

So I'm lounging poolside yesterday (it's my Tuesday thing) (also usually my Thursday) (and sometimes my Friday, as well) and I hear this kind of buffoon loud mouth guy spouting off at the shallow end. Those of in the know hang out mid-pool, you see, because this pool is old school and the deep end is actually in the middle. Anyhoo.

This guy is spouting off at the shallow end of the pool. From what I can gather, he's there with some friends and his friends' kids. He seems to be the "Uncle Rick" kinda guy who all the wives hate and all the husbands keep around for drunken reminiscing about football and fishing and that time they lost their pants out in Surrey or what have you, until that one time where he pukes on the good carpet and the wives finally have had enough and say ENOUGH!

So this guy is in the shallow end of the pool telling his buddy's kids about how they'll have to get their mom to let them come out to his place to ride the dirt bikes the jet ski the atv whathaveyou clad in, of course, all the appropriate safety gear. His rational for this rationality is that he has a friend who has a glass eye. And why is he eye-less, you ask? Well because apparently he SHOT IT OUT WITH A BB GUN.

I don't know bout you, but the moment I heard that I went into spasms of laughter - a near apoplexy, it's true, because all I could think of was Ralphie from A Christmas Story and how he really wanted the BB Gun but his mom n teacher told him NO! for exactly that reason. And, sure enough, he nearly did but whatever.

I guess this kid's mom didn't love him enough, or maybe she'd never seen A Christmas Story.

beer pong for the ages

So I'm sitting here wondering, yet again, whatever makes me do things. You know - like mixing beer and tequila and wine. Not in one glass, of course, but in one belly. One mostly empty belly.

Le sigh. You'd think that by now I'd have this sheet figured out. Instead I'm sitting here nursing a stiff neck and a mild hangover with a bowl full of strawberries, a bag of pita chips and a glass of watery juice, wishing the g-darned cable people would show up so I could go get some gingerale.

Hmmm maybe if I finish off the ice cream I'll feel better about the world.

In other news... that story I put up on here a billion years ago - the one about the skateboard - was published in an online journal. That's kinda cool... In the spirit of complete disclosure, it's a journal that I did the initial design for, but it's still kinda cool, I think. I'm sure no favoritism was in play here. *ahem*.

at the 100th meridian

This is a beautifully told story of the part of Canada from which I originate. It is long, but it is worth it. Trust me. I've never led you astray before, have I? Well, unless you took my hand, of course....

Hit the road, jack

So we're moving tomorrow. Yes again. I think that it has to do with my recent brain spaz issues - the non-stability of my everyday life. It's funny b/c although I can be totally spontaneous and rather unpredictable, I do love to have a certain amount of routine in my day-to-day life. I mean, to follow me around as I get ready for work in the morning (or, when I *did* get up for work in the morning) would have pretty much been the same thing day in and day out. Woe to the person who interrupted me for any reason (i.e. the architect). I lived alone for a long time - having someone feck with my rhythm took some getting used to.

Anyhoo, we're moving again. The new place is bigger and has more windows, and has crazy 11' high ceilings. We don't have a balcony for le chat, but there is a bit of a patio for the BBQ and for sitting in the evening having a glass of wine, so I'm pretty happy about that.

Plus I will get some lanterns and stuff and do some decorating, and have an herb garden again so that rules.

Mostly I'm pretty excited about having more space so a) I don't have to share my bedroom with 3 bicycles anymore and b) we can maybe do some more entertaining. This place is a bit too small for any more than a couple of people to come by.

I'm also kind of digging this working from home thing. I hang out in my jammies, listen to classical music, and tippitytap away. It's not doing a thing for my tan, but whatevs. Mama needs some new shoes. Oh and a new couch, but that's neither here nor there.

sixteen men on a dead man's tah-tahs

So I'm doing some contracty stuff this morning and am then off to the pool for the afternoon. I wish I could say I was the hottest chick on the deck but let's not kid - it's been a while since I was skinny. Like at least 1.5 years. I could blame the architect and say he's making me settle down. Well I guess that's part of the problem, but the other side is that I'm not working out and I'm drinking way too much. It's ok though, I guess - I mean I can still get into my jeans n crap it's just that I've got a soft belly and my boobs are fricking huge. While some of you out there may not think that's an issue I gotta tell you it's a pain in the arse when you are tshirt shopping.

Plus they have this irritating tendency to try and bust out when I dive into the pool. Our code word for this phenomenon is 'Janet' for obvious reasons, but at least it's a bit more subtle than screaming "dude your floaters are out again!".

I think, anyway.

performance enhancing..

Oh I'm onto you, Team Garmin-Chipotle. You think you can fool me? Nuh-uh. Chipotle sponsorship means free bean burritos means spectacular gas taking out the competition behind your cyclists. And you thought we weren't paying attention...

I wonder

who's still out there?

I'm having some trouble with the depression these past few days - yesterday especially. It's crazy sometimes how it's triggered by nothing or everything and I can feel the crash coming down. Cliched yes but it really is like a storm - clouds boiling black in the distance ozone heavy in the air. I'm not sure how today is going to go, yet - I've been awake for over an hour and am wavering between ok and pulling the blankets up over my head and wishing for it all to end. The architect is still here, you see, and I worry about when he goes and I'm left here with my thoughts.

I can't disconnect from my past, lately. Ever. It's in my dreams and in my waking thoughts. Is everyone tied to their history the way that I am? Is everyone caught up in the mistakes of the past so intensely that they come up upon you like a visceral slap to the consciousness? I swear I can still feel things as though they are happening right now - memories five years old or fifteen my brain sees no difference. How can I let these things go? Tell me how to be free from sins I've repented, from injuries I've healed, from anger I've ....

I don't know. Maybe I *am* crazy. Yesterday in the store in the middle of a panic attack trying to get on an escalator it occurred to me that this doesn't happen to other people. Other people go on about their lives putting their pasts behind them; refusing to be haunted by spectres of memory. How do they do that? How do they let it go let it slip through their fingers cut the ties?

i like rabbits

Dude if you haven't seen the Kelly videos from The Liam Show you need to go youtube that shit NOW. I've been giggling to myself all morning - seriously.

Text Message Breakup is gloriously funny. I heart it. Oh heck I'll post it for you:

i said i think i'm losing my mind this time

No I really might be. Last Friday I was getting out of the shower and was drying my hair and I pulled my earring out. No biggy - minor inconvenience - however the backing disappeared. Like, I heard it hit the floor but could not find it to save my life. I was on my hands and knees searching, yet nothing.


On Saturday morning, I woke up missing my nose ring. Like it was just GONE. Nowhere in the bed; nowhere on the floor; basically nowhere. I was reasonably convinced I'd had it all day the day before, and that I hadn't lost it at the pool, but seriously - nowhere to be found.

So I made due with the earrings by just grabbing backings from a pair I never wear, and yesterday I picked up a new nose screw. Whatever, just weird random things happening. Last night, though, as I was sitting on the pot, I glanced over at the tub mat. Sure enough, bold as day, there was my nose ring. I mean, the architect and I *both* looked for that thing on Saturday but nothing. And it's not like we hadn't used the bathroom at all - you'd think we would have noticed the damn thing sitting there, but no. This made me very happy because I'm not that fond of the new one - the inside the nose part is really long and it makes me feel like I've got boogers, but at least now I have a backup.

Anyhoo, this brings us to five minutes ago, when I was once again on the pot (hey, it's hot! I've been consuming a lot of fluids!) and happened to glance over at the tub mat. What to my wondering eyes should appear, in pretty much the EXACT same place as the nosering had been, but the back for my earring.

Either someone is fucking with me, or our house is haunted by tiny little poltergeists.

le sigh

So in a classic Van-Nasty moment (you know it is so don't try and tell me any different you bonaroo huffing such and such) I searched my apartment high and low for my styley d&g knock off sunglasses (not the ones pictured below).

I was forcing myself outside, you see, since I'm pretty sure I didn't leave the house last week except to go to the pool, and I'm trying to get back into shape. Walking will help this oh yes it will.

Anyhoo, no love on the sunglasses, so I put on my big jackie-oh wannabe shades (are pictured below). I headed out the door and set off down the street and thought that perhaps people were looking at me a bit more than normal. The phone rang. I paused on the sidewalk to answer it and made eyecontact with a passerbye. I ended my call and grabbed a notepad to scribble down an appointment for apartment viewing. I attempted to push my largish shades up on my head so that I could see better. Of course I could not complete this action because my smaller (though not *small* per se) sunglasses were already perched on top of my head.

Le sigh.

disco disco! bueno bueno!

So last night the architect and I watched a bootlegged copy of The Zohan on the innerwebs. The quality was average-ish (both content and form), but there were Spanish subtitles.

It's kind of a surreal experience to watch a movie in which the dialogue is almost entirely spoken with very thick Israeli accents and is translated into Spanish.

Keep in mind that I don't actually *speak* Spanish. I am pretty sure that 90% of the time (especially in the first 5 minutes while my poor brain tried to wrap itself around the language barriers) I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Fortunately, it's not a hard movie to follow.

In other news, I'm once again apartment hunting. We've really come to realize that we need more space and so have managed to get out of our lease. Now, of course, we have to find something as nice and as cool, in a similarly great area. But bigger. Heh. Good luck.

scrabble eyes my sweet patootie

See those sassy shades? Once I removed them I noticed a sassy set of raccoon eyes to match.

I'm so hot.

Today the company was a little sparse around the pool. My usual compatriots were either off watching the US Open (yawn), at job interviews (shock and dismay) or actually working (the horror!). I'm hoping tomorrow will fare better, but I've managed (yet again) to sunburn my belly. I'd speculate that the sunburn works kind of like lightning, in that it hits the highest point, but my belly has yet to surpass my tah-tahs in altitude.

If I keep pouring the summery cocktails down my yap, however, that may not be the case for long.