Jeux sans frontiers.

FRO-OST. Frost. This morning. Frosty. It begins.

So I think my iPod is trying to tell me something. For the past 4 times that I've gone to work, between the train station and my building, my iPod plays Games Without Frontiers while in shuffle mode. What is my iPod trying to communicate to me? What is the special message?

Here is the politically incorrect portion of today's post. Often, on my car, there is a couple who are...intellectually challenged? Is that the right way to say it. The man appears to have mild Down's Syndrome if that's even possible, and the woman just seems to be really un-smart. Every morning he sits while she stands beside him, gazing adoringly at him in a way that at first, made me think she was his mother. However, the way she runs her fingers through his hair and kisses his forehead is un-mother-like enough to persuade me she is in fact, his girlfriend, or not.

He seems to enjoy the attention as a very young child would. Unreciprocated. He has a book everyday that he reads without looking up at her. Why does he always get the chair? Why doesn't she get pissed that he ignores her for his book? Is she his mother? Does she not mind because she is lacking in sharpness? I want to know how very, very uh, clinically dim people function in a love relationship. Surely they feel all the same emotions and have the same needs? Or do they? Are they just less articulated or do they have less needs as certain things just wouldn't occur to them? Is life more simple for the simple or more confusing? Do they lack complex emotions or are they just unable to process them? I want to hang out and observe them at home. Does this make me, what's the right way to say this...creepy? An ignorant jerk?

What do I have to go by except TV portrayals like Corky from Life Goes On or whatever that show was called ( I really liked that show by the way. Even with Patty Lupone being in it. How weird am I?), or some made for TV movie about 2 intellectually challenged parents who give their son a peanut butter, sponge and dice sandwich for his school lunch and tell each other they love each other by saying "My shoes hurt."....wait, that was a comedy sketch by Bob and David...

I have to admit that I have been trying to quell the inappropriate urge to type certain words because I was brought up with them as an integral part of my schoolyard vocabulary. Like the Catholic urge, that can't be shaken, even by an ex-catholic, to administer sacred rights in a pinch, the slang bubbles in my vocal cords, waiting to be released. However, I am an adult now. A sensitive adult with a sense of the appropriate and moral restraint.

On another topic. I noticed that the cold was so dense and thick this morning, it retarded the ability to be warm in my home. Oh, oh now. Not right. Not right at all. Very very bad. Seriously, does anyone need me to give them some emergency communion?

It's funny how you are a Catholic unless you are excommunicated. Even if you profess to be an Atheist, you are still technically a Catholic. Even if you drink yourself stupid and shout at children and use Jesus and Christ as an adjective, (ie: If you don't hand me the Jesus remote I'll shove the Christing TV up your hole.) you are still a Catholic. At least that's what I got out of Catholic education. I believe all of Newfoundland and Ireland knows what I'm talking about also. I don't think I'm the only one.

How scary are you?

I just took a German manners test and got a perfect score. Not sure how to feel about that. Want to try it? Go here.

Philistines

I saw a band once, Sloan, and in the middle of the concert, the lead singer stepped forward without the microphone and re-enacted the scene from Magnolia where the nurse orders a bunch of porn magazines from a delivery service. No one could hear him because he had no microphone. He kept motioning for everyone to be quiet so they could hear what he was saying but no one was listening. He ended up getting angry and calling us all Philistines. I wasn't insulted though. It didn't apply to me. I listened. I got it.

Miso party

There are too many women in this office now. Our ovaries will now have to do battle for the title of dominate pro-creator. Plus it's really boring, not because they are women but because they are no fun. Now excuse me, my dehydrated tofu bits have re hydrated in my mug of miso soup. You know what that means...MISO PARTY!!(cue:oom ts oom ts oom ts dance beat and a siren and coloured moving spotlights.).

Er, so....Yes I'm looking forward to going to California but who will vacuum and dust my house? It will be decaying and decrepit upon our return. This is what concerns me, entropy. That and re hyrdated tofu.

I can tell I don't have PMS anymore because this morning, an obnoxious 18 year-old sitting across from me on the train, stepped on my feet twice and knocked my knees about a hundred times as she put things incessantly in and out of her bags and tried on three different pairs of shoes she had with her. Three. 3 days ago and I probably would have strangled her with her own hair but today I actually didn't even care. In fact, I cared less than normal as this month's PMS was so exhausting that I just don't have any energy left to be annoyed. That'll last about 10 more minutes. Just a little sweet spot in the stormy world of Godzillabun's inner life. Don't you wish you could be here to share in it?

SUV punchin'

My new hobby is punching SUV's while they cut me off when I'm crossing on a green light. It happens a lot here in the financial district of town. Big asscocks(male or female) in their suits, one hand on the wheel, the other holding their cell:"Ya, so buy low at 5 basis points and send me a hooker. One of them foreign looking ones. Ya, I'll see you tonight, make sure the kids don't bug me."

It fills me with rage. As they are almost running me over, I punch the side, usually just past the back door, that's how close they are to killing me. I'm starting to punch harder and harder each time. Sometimes they brake because either: a)they are concerned they hit something or most likely b) they are incensed that someone touched their precious status symbol. If it's in the garage being fixed, how will anyone know they are rich? How will anyone know they have money to burn?

I fucking dare one of them to ever speak to me about it. Green light, pedestrian, I have the FUCKING right of way. Get OFF the phone and look the fuck out for pedestrians, fuck.

Well, I think that's enough swearing and anger for today (it's not really though, I still have plenty. Thank-you hormones.).

Hallowiener. I should paton that.

I thought of a bunch of things to mention on my way to work and now I've forgotten them all. I also had an idea for a Halloween costume and I've forgotten that as well. So, I'm doing pretty good.

I'm having one of those days where I want to turn Incredible Hulk-like and crash through a wall, Kool-Aid Man-like.

I think my Halloween costume idea had something to do with being bloody. Of having a lot of blood on my face. Coming mainly from my eyes. Like, a face full of blood. But there was another part to it that made it really funny. Looking completely normal in all other aspects except for inexplicably having bled profusely enough from the eyes to cover most of my face in blood? No, I don't think that was it. Something like that I guess. Maybe I forgot it because my subconscious realized it wasn't the best idea...Maybe I should be Mary Poppins with the Ebola virus since I already have the outfit.

You know, come to think of it. I also have a Sound of Music dress. It's the exact style of what Liesl wore and it looks like it was made from Austrian drapes. Why has Julie Andrews influenced my wardrobe so much?

Or maybe I should try some stream of consciousness brainstorming for a good idea:
Wiener, candy cane, shock therapy, soup ladle, yellow brick road, slime, ancient Chinese secret, slum lord USA....uh, I don't think this is going anywhere.

Maybe I should try rapid fire costume ideas instead of just words:
Linus Van Pelt at age 55
A tree full of squirrels, on fire
A ghost in a bikini
Siamese twins who murdered each other

NOW, I am getting somewhere. I could use any of those. It worked. Feel free to try to use these yourself and send a photo of it. Actually, please, I am begging you to choose one and do a photo.

Maybe I should try to brainstorm a career in the same manner:
Sidewalk Technician
Pasta Detailer
Environmental Aligner
Underwater Compliance Inspector

Ya, not working as good.

Hghhhh. I should NOT be at work today. I should be in a cabin with a cat and some clay. I'd hand build jugs and share my toast with the cat.

I guess, checking bank accounts and scanning shipping documents is just as good, NOT.

A spoon full of sugar.

I look like frigging Mary Poppins today.I don't know how it happened. I think it's the hat. I didn't plan it. Oh well.

Here's the basic idea. Christ this scanner at work is poop.

Venus is rad.

Last night, or rather, very early this morning, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. So I left the bedroom and went to sit by the window to look at the river. The sky was cloudless and low on the horizon, shining like crazy, was Venus. I took this (unfortunately blurry) picture just to show how bright and big it was. The blue cast it has in the photo is accurate. Like a light-blasted Sapphire in the sky.



I put on my hat and wrapped the blanket around me to go out on the deck. I looked up high behind the house, above the trees and saw the stars were filling the sky. So clear. In the first minute I say 3 shooting stars. Right beside Orion, was little red Mars. I knew if I had a telescope, I could have seen Saturn too, just beside Venus. Knowing it was there was good enough for me. I saw it once, through a really big telescope. It was just hanging in the sky, purple and blue, with all the rings, just like in a picture, but it wasn't a picture. I was seeing it as it was, floating in the universe, 1279 million kilometers away from earth. Did you know all of Saturn and it's rings would fit tightly in the distance between earth and the moon? If you didn't, now you do.

Anyway, I felt pretty awesome, standing on my deck at 4:30 in the am, hearing absolutely nothing but the rushing of the river, looking at planets and shooting stars.

When I went back inside and fell asleep again, I dreamt a I saw a UFO in the sky. It looked sort of like a constellation but it was too perfectly arranged as a rectangle. I tried to whisper to T to come see, but I was paralysed. I fell asleep in the dream and when I woke up (in the dream) my skin was sun burnt from seeing the UFO. Thank you X-files for implanting details like that in my dreams. Happily, stargazing early this morning was nothing like my dream. Although it did remind me of another dream I had as a child that I still remember because of how scary and realistic it was. Venus was huge in the sky. As I stood there paralysed(again), in my parents backyard, it started to spin and spin so fast, I could hear it on earth, a pulsing, out of control vortex. Scared the bejesus out of me. It's funny that I should love stargazing so much but always have nightmares about celestial what-nots.

If I led a carefree life, I would get up at 4:30am every morning to look at the sky. I'd also have a kick ass telescope. One with little red beeps. Oh ya, and I'd be in a dark sky sanctuary or northern Russia or something. Gotta work on that whole independently wealthy thing...

It's okay though. Now it's day and the pumpkin soup is cooked and the squash is baking so I can't complain.

Sad old sack of nothing, begone.

I had to tell someone on the train last night that you can't pick and choose your morality. I ran and hopped on the train about 30 seconds before it left and had to squish in because it's always packed tight at rush hour. Still though, there was room for one or 2 more people to pack in. 2 girls tried to get on but a big asscock in a suit blocked them at the door and said: "Take the next train." and turned this look out that I imagine was similar to that which Mussolini gave as he threw his espresso in the face of his butler for being too hot or too cold or not medium enough.

I said to the man: "That wouldn't have worked on me, I'd have pushed past you."
He replied: "I'd have pushed you back." and the ridiculous woman with him said "Yeah!".

Let me stop for a second to add the information that these were not petulant teenagers as their dialogue might suggest. They both had to be well over 55 years old. I suggested to the man that "Maybe you should hire a private limo if you want that kind of control." He gave me a look that I imagine was similar to the look Kim Jong II cast when his doctor informed him that he was clinically diagnosed as a creepy, freak of nature.

I put on my Ipod and thought, ignore. Ignore. This was made difficult by the fact that it was actually a gang of office workers. A gang of giving-anglos-a-bad-name, loud, obnoxious, infantile office workers. Making sad attempts at proving how "fun" they were, especially suit man and his lady sidekick. He was particularly fond of doing his "Indian man" accent which I'm sure anyone of southeast Asian decent, really appreciated.

I continued the plan of ignoring until they started up about a purse that was on an overhead rack.
"Someone left their purse behind!" "Take and give it to the train guy!" "NO, grab it and call them on your cell!" "Just take it home and take what's in the wallet" "HA HA HA."
Ya, real funny.

One of the cronies finally reaches to grab it and a woman sitting across the isle gets up and takes it from her. It's her purse. This crowd of fools immediately starts in on her in a loud voice:
"Well why didn't ya say something?! We've been talking about it for five minutes!" The other one pipes up "Oh look at the look she's giving us." "Last time I try to help someone" Suit guy says" Oh look she's harping to her friend about it."

At this point I can't take it anymore. I had to say something.
"Maybe she doesn't speak english and doesn't understand why you are handling her purse."
They all stare at me processing this. There is a whiff of understanding on all their faces that this is possible. Then defence mode immediately kicks in with suit guy huffing that he wants away from his spot, he's had enough he says. "Who do you think you are?" he asks me.
"Who do you think you are? You block people from getting on the train. You have no right to do that. You upset a woman who doesn't understand why you are taking her purse and then you get angry at her about it. Maybe public transportation is not the best answer for you if you can't conduct yourself properly."
He says: "YOU should hire a limo because I don't want to see you on this train again."
I say, "You can't pick and choose your morality sir." as he's leaving.
His female sidekick is left. She is the sort who is 50 years old but wearing a 14 year old's jeans. The biggest attention whore of the bunch. "Love me! Think I am cool and funny!!"

She comes sidling up to me giving me this hip-cocked stance and her challenge glare. The sort a 12year old bully gives to the new girl in class during her first recess. Thing is, no one has ever bullied me. I'm still keeping ultra cool. I'm actually quite proud of the composure I'd been keeping considering how ultra pissed I was. I looked her straight in the eyes and said, very calmly: You are a bunch of fucking assholes. She starts shifting her weight from foot to foot. She was not expecting it. The lesser cronies are all backing off. She is alone with just me and I'm not inching one fucking bit on this. They were terrible people. Cowards who run in a bunch and mock and bully others. All the worse for being old and still acting like this. After scrambling in her head she comes up with this:
"Who's talking to you anyway?"
Brilliant.
I had my fill. If I'd have stayed any longer I would have start shaking from anger.
"You have been talking loud enough for the entire car to be in on your conversation so it should come as no surprise." I say and leave. As I'm waiting in between cars for everyone to get off before I make my way to the back of the train I hear her say:
"Oh there she is. What did I tell you?"

What did you tell? That I was hiding in fear from you? Ya, that's why I called you on your bullshit in the first place, sad old sack of nothing.

You'll notice that part isn't in quotations because I didn't say it. What more can be said to a lost cause such as these people were.

Here is what I can not stand. Bullies. Inane, obnoxious bullies. That shit does NOT fly with me.

dredging the bottom of the barrel

Uggh! Apple! So foreign to my taste buds. Can't eat real food, must eat cookies, chips and pie!

So I had a little rampage for a week there. I actually don't think I could eat another cookie or chip even if I suddenly developed the metabolism of a cougar, I'm so oversaturated with junk food. That's not true, if I could eat it without getting fat I would, but anyway I'm not a cougar (I kind of am) so I need to eat some freaking vegetables. This apple should be sweet enough but it tastes like a lemon compared to cookies. I don't think the decaffinated coffee is helping it taste any better. Decafinated? Are you mental? Yes, I thought we had already established that.

Well, I'm getting more riveting by the hour. So much exciting and useful things going on to blog about. Rainy and cold. I like cookies. Endless entertainment.

Things I could do.

Seriously, that last post was so insipid! I can't help it if I feel groovy.

I can't help it if I think eating pumpkin pie for breakfast and dinner is a good idea because it tastes good and life is a collection of beautiful moments strung together, fleeting and delicious. Can I?

Oh I'll crash. I know, but that's something to worry about when it happens.

Meanwhile, the mist has rolled in over mull of Montreal. I feel like staying home and watching Harold and Maude under a big blanket with a fire going in the wood stove (as opposed to on the kitchen table for example). I feel like meeting at the cemetery gates to talk about Keats and Yates (I'll have to read them first). I feel like taking a trip to Prague, where I could drink strong tea in a 300 year old, apartment building with cathedral windows, looking out onto a square. I could hole up in a cabin in Alaska and chop wood and walk for hours everyday and draw stories by candlelight every night. I could meet my knitting group after work today and knit while eating avocado salad and spaghetti and then go home and put on my pajamas and read in bed. I could. Doesn't it all sound good?

Insanity of the brian.

I am nuts. I must be.

I've been feeling really optimistic lately. Surely I have lost my mind! It's the only explanation. The pharmacy in my bathroom might be helping. All vitamins and supplements and a little bit of heroin. Ha ha. Really though, I'm deriving so much pleasure from the simplest things lately. It's really quite pleasant. I'm noticing all sorts of tiny things and really appreciating everything. Food tastes great and I don't care how many calories it has, the weather is beautiful and fall-like, a new bar of soap that smells like coconut makes having a shower super great, the river's waves rippling on to the rocks make me privileged to have such a great home. I feel so lucky, I'm almost scared to say. I normally wouldn't say so due to superstitious fears of hexing myself, but I feel like admitting that I have it pretty good. How boring of me!

It's so rare for me to feel at ease like this. Therefore my only conclusion is that I have insanity of the brain. or the brian. I have insanity of the brian.

Tension like sausage.

Tension, thick as sausage. That's work lately. It's like a big, fat, juicy sausage back here. Everyone except myself is involved. My work is solo, I don't have to collaborate or I'm sure I'd be in the midst of drama also. But, I'm not. Hah ha.

Today the manager wants them all to have a meeting. Everyone is pretending they are too busy. Bock, bock, bock. They should all just have it out with each other but no one wants to be the first to "express" themselves. I'm going to suggest they all get together and make paper turkeys by tracing their hands on construction paper and then decorate each others turkeys in a way that shows how they really "feel". Wouldn't I be awesome if I really made that happen?

The sausage is hovering and rolling around in here and it's 1pm, the suggested time of the meeting but everyone is quietly pretending they don't notice. "Hey, y'all having that meeting to slice up the sausage or what?" is what I am yelling in my head. "Because the overpowering scent of frying pork and spices encased in intestines is stifling me people!"

Inflammatory rhetoric on heels.

Word on the street today is that there's a gonna be a fire drill. A chinese fire drill! No not really, just the regular kind. That means walking down 28 floors with a million other people and today I am wearing heels. Prosthetic heels. I've needed them ever since I lost my own in an unfortunate juicing accident so it's a good thing I wore them today what with needing to go down all those stairs. Hardy har har. I'm wearing high heels. The one pair I own that I only wear when I feel I need to do penance for all my sins.

I wore them yesterday too and thought to myself, these are a stupid thing for upright, human beings to wear. They do look good so maybe only people in wheelchairs should wear them. They can have them look good but not require the shoes to actually function. DAMN, high heels suck. They really are aesthetically appealing, I get that, but no go on the whole, needing to actually walk issue. I'm sure there are seasoned high heel wearers who claim it's just a matter of knowing how and getting used to it and that they won't even take a pee in the middle of the night without slipping on their heels, but I think getting used to wearing high heels is like getting used to being a hunchback or having an 5 inch rusty nail stuck in your skull. It can be done but why do it if not necessary? So why AM I doing it?

I bought them because I didn't have a pair and I thought it might be fun to try every once in a while, plus they look awesome. I paid enough money for them that now, even with the understanding that they suck for walking in, I have to wear them to get some damn use out of them. They aren't like a sweater or a pair of pants I can tear apart and make something new with. I argued with T that he shouldn't be too judgemental about the retardedness of people that totter around on them. Girls just want to have fun and all that, but I would have to defer to him on this one, now that I've tried it out.

So the moral of the story is: Don't bypass the engine room with your bucket of water during a fire, especially if you are wearing heels because then you will be a double stupe. see: chinese fire drill

I never knew what the heck a Chinese fire drill meant until today and now I see that it was coined by patronizing jerks, yes that's right, the British. They produce great comedy, music, literature and racism, all stuck together on that little island with their British teeth and damp wallpaper. And yes I do see the irony of this paragraph.

File under: Oh no you dihdent!

A propos our conversation on Brandy Alexanders, I couldn't help but purchase one of those little mini bottles of brandy while I was buying one of those big bottles of Di Sarono. It said on the bottle to put in coffee for a good time (or something to that effect) and I thought to myself: "Huh. I've always wanted to drink at work." So I made some chicory coffee substitute and slipped just enough Brandy in that sucker so that it wouldn't impair me but I could say I had done it. Drinking on the job.

It's funny because I am so not a drinker of alcohol or coffee. Apart from the occasional gin and tonic or amaretto on ice, I'm pretty straight edge most of the time. I'll tell you what though, my fake coffee with booze is quite pleasant and devilishly inappropriate. Like shoplifting one chocolate covered almond from the bulk bin. Real renegade stuff.

C'mon now. It's like eating a liquor filled chocolate at work. It's not like I'm hiding in the storage room with a shaker and a mini fridge hid behind the "daily work may 2004" box. Seriously! I don't drink normally. Ah now I'm sorry I even told you.

Brandy Alexander and Espèces de Dinde

Poor old blog. Hast thine writer abandoned ye for the ease of facebook status updates to speaketh on her behalf? Must thou endure bad shakespearesque mockery?

It's true that Facebook is sucking the attention span out of me. Everything is in little bits like Sesame Street. No long, meandering, self-absorbed rants... But then again, no one reads poor bloggy anymore for the same reason. Joby? Are you there? My one readership. You are resisting the steel-cabled strength of Facebook allure. I salute you and I encourage your corruption at the same time because Scrabble is stronger than anyone's will.

Also, I'm super boring these days.

Thanks to Feist I've been wondering what exactly is in a Brandy Alexander. God that song is catchy.

Ingredients:

1 1/2 oz Brandy
1 oz Dark Crème de Cacao
1 oz Half-and-half or Heavy cream
1/4 tsp grated Nutmeg
Mixing instructions:

In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the brandy, crème de cacao, and half-and-half. Shake well. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with the nutmeg.

[edit] Alternate recipe
Ingredients:

2 jiggers dark crème de cacao
1 jigger brandy
1 pt. vanilla ice cream
1 c. crushed ice
Mixing instructions:

Put all ingredients in blender. Cover and frappé until sherbet consistency. Serve in small brandy snifters with nutmeg sprinkled on top. Yield: 6 (3 oz.) drinks.

Alright then, I will have to admit that this sounds like a remarkably tasty drink although I would make it with soy ice cream. SO there.

Speaking of soy products. As it's Thanksgiving this weekend, we are on the prowl for a Tofurky. Quite tricky to find here and all the more tricky to explain in a second language. "Uhhh, c'est un espèce de dinde qui est fait de tofu." To someone who has no idea what a tofurky is this is an alarming and confusing description. Someone, at a health food store even said to me: "This exists?" Well yes it does and it's very tasty. The thing I'm sure everyone imagines and even I myself imagined before I saw it the first time, is that it is NOT in the shape of a turkey. Nor does it taste like a turkey or have the consistency of a turkey. It's a mound. A big mound of chewy tofu with a core of rice stuffing. Ha ha, and it's tasty as hell so turn your noses up if you are so inclined. More tofurky for me.

It's strange though. I can't process that it's October already. It's still quite warm even though the leaves have turned. I have a love hate relationship with this time of the year. I find it the most exhilarating and exciting change of season. Maybe because it means my birthday and christmas are on the horizon, or because I prefer orange and red leaves to green?

I don't know why I always get so thrilled when autumn comes but at the same time, the days get shorter and I can feel the old coffin lid of darkness closing in on me. I'm ecstatic during the day and then at dusk, I physically feel the light being dragged down as it disappears like the force of gravity has increased and I get all panicky like someone is throwing dirt over me at the bottom of a six foot deep hole. Once it's gone down and it's all the way dark, I adjust and feel okay but MAN, that 45 minutes at dusk is killer in the fall and winter. I should hate those seasons but I don't. I love them. I love you fall and winter, even though you partially kill me.

Perhaps I should greet each dusk this season with a Brandy Alexander.