I had a dream...

I did. It was a weird one.

So I'm sitting at home on a lovely summer afternoon waiting for a buddy to come over. The buddy in question is Kiefer Sutherland. (What?) When he finally gets to my house he is driving a REALLY shitty car. Like, we are talking some kind of 1987 Honda bullshit. He says it is because he is trying to go "incognito" and doesn't want to cause a commotion in the neighborhood. Fair enough.

Kiefer has come over to help me out with some ideas for a screenplay I'm writing. We are sitting in my backyard drinking tea and chatting about my story ideas. We have to drink tea because he's on the wagon again. He was in jail, and it was not pleasant. We get to talking about our families. He's asking me about how my parents are doing... because he hasn't seen them in ages. Apparently he has known me my entire life - my grandpa was friends with his dad. They knew each other from the Mason's Lodge.

Then I woke up, startled and confused.

*GASP*

"DONALD SUTHERLAND IS A MASON????? MY ENTIRE LIFE HAS BEEN A LIE."

It just seems like the kind of thing he wouldn't really be into. That's all I'm saying.

Why everyone involved in business thinks I'm an idiot.

I went to the bank on my lunch break to cash in this sweet voucher I have for RRSPs. (2! DAYS! LEFT! ONLY! HURRY! CONTRIBUTE! NOW! That's what the signs all said. They even had balloons to emphasize the point.) The teller could not do this for me, so he took me over to the RRSP counter and told me I had to make an appointment.

Bank Lady: Alright, when can you come in? 1? 2? 3?
ME: Well, I'm actually just on my lunch break from work...
Bank Lady: We are open later today. What kind of funds do you have?

I stare at her blankly.

Bank Lady: Do you have mutual funds?
ME: Ummmm... yeah, okay. Mutual funds... sure... (at this point I start to trail off and stare into a far away land)

She looks at me as if to say, 'She couldn't possibly be THAT dumb. She wears glasses.'

ME: *head snaps up* Yes! I have mutual funds!
Bank Lady: Alright, come back at 5.

Yeah. I went to college.

TOTALLY looking forward to showing my face there again today. I am seriously hoping that the transaction consists of me shoving the voucher in her face and saying "HERE. PUT THIS IN THE PLACE WHERE THE STUFF IS."

I don't know how well I will be able to cover up not knowing anything about money. I fear that when she asks me to invest more money, she will see right through me when I reply with, "Well, Susan... the market is a little risky for me right now, what with quarterly profits being down and all. It's really a mess out there! Am I right, or am I right?"

*sigh*

Oh, George.





















Despite the fact that you continue to parade around with that silly waitress everywhere, I just can't stay mad at you.

It was so sweet of you to make sure she looked totally weird by dressing her in upholstery fabric from 1972! You knew that would make me happy. *sigh*

You're just the best. Now, go put on a suit and stand around looking attractive. It's what you do best, my darling.

How quickly we forget.

So I totally forgot about how sometimes when I do the running, it can sometimes immediately be followed up by the feeling sick and is guaranteed to be followed up the next day by the hurting.

Why does the Sun Run always sound like a good idea? It is not.

For a rainy day...

This video just made my day. I love it because a) I love Brazillian music, b) I love Radiohead and most importantly c) I loves me some Ed O'Brien.

I nearly cried the last time I saw Radiohead in concert as I stood there looking up at Ed, being all tall and lanky... and hot... and talented. He's that kind of attractive to me. The kind that makes you almost cry because the hotness is so intense.

He's right up there with Clooney.

Yeah, I said it.




Isn't my husband just the cutest? *sigh*

Is it technically considered polygamy if you have several imaginary husbands? Just wondering.

I blinded myself with science. SCIENCE!

Please note that I didn't actually blind myself with science. In terms of my eyesight, everything is as it should be. What I did do, was blow my own mind with my awesome ideas.

A while ago I got into some pretty crazy stuff with my oatmeal experimentation, the highlight of which was the discovery of adding Nutella to quick oats. Prior to the addition of the water and cooking portion of the process, it looks kind of gross. One of my coworkers (Either Craig or Angus, I can't remember.) lovingly described it as looking like "a turd covered in kitty litter." Don't let that phase you. Add the water, and what you get is a little bit of awesome.

ANYWAYS, this morning I was in a mad rush to get out the door and in preparing my usual oats and brown sugar I decided to throw in some roasted pumpkin seeds. When I got to work and went to add the water in... well, I'm not going to lie to you. It looked really weird. But it tasted yumtastic!

AND.. as an added bonus, I discovered that pumpkin seeds have quite a bit of tryptophan in them. This means that in half an hour I will either be really, really sleepy or really, really happy since tryptophan stimulates the release of both melatonin and seratonin.

So basically, I have just proved once again that I am a frickin' genius.

Kevin Smith knows everything.

Remember how in Dogma the whole reason that God went missing was because She took over an old man's body so that She could play Skee Ball on the Jersey shore?





















I totally wish I had the power to take over someone's body because I want to play Skee Ball sooooooooo bad right now.

I really do. It's so fun! Playing it on the computer just isn't the same.

*sigh* Where the heck can I go play Skee Ball???

It's like, totally faux.

Today my mother is not at work, due to the fact that she is a union member (Teamsters, yeah!) and they have graciously provided her with a BULLSHIT MADE UP HOLIDAY!!!!! They like to call it "Heritage Day". It is also known as "Family Day" in several other provinces of this great country of ours.

IT SUCKS. IT SUCKS BECAUSE I HAVE TO WORK. Whatever. Have a nice time on your made up holiday, Mommy.

ANYWAYS, in honour of this holiday I am going to play a little game. It is called Jeopardy and this dude is going to help me play it:




















Hey, look at that, it is Alex Trebek! Let's do this.

AT: "Sarah, choose a category."

Me: "Alright, I'll take "Crap That Makes Me Angry" for 400, Alex. "

AT: "Answer - This is what you would call it when one of the departments at work gets to frig off for part of the day because they are getting their offices moved in the middle of the day, while you were forced to work a full day and then stay LATE because they made you move at the END of the day."

*BUZZZZZZZZ*

AT: "Sarah..."

Me: "What is 'a huge friggin' rip off.'"

AT: "Correct!"

Arrrrgh. February can suck it.

At least I got 400 meaningless points in fake Jeopardy.

PC Load Letter? What the f@&* does that mean?

According to the internet, it is when you need to insert the proper size of paper in the printer. It also means "FRIG OFF YOU STUPID PIECE OF MACHINERY, I HATE YOU WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND FRIGGING SUNS!" That is what I say when it gives me fuckered up error messages.

So go to print a page and the thing starts beeping at me. It wants me to put letter sized paper in the manual feed. (EVEN THOUGH THERE IS LETTER PAPER IN THE EFFING TRAY ALREADY BECAUSE WHO THE HELL USES LEGAL PAPER BESIDES LAWYERS???) So I put some letter paper in the manual feed and press the button like it tells me to. It swallows all of it up at once and BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP! Now there is a paper jam.

It tells me to open up the back door, so I do and pull out the paper. I close everything back up and hit the button again. BEEEEP! BEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! Paper jam! Open the front door, then the upper front door, then take out the cartridge and then pull out the paper. FUCK!

Finally the stupid whore machine prints out the pages I need FROM THE TRAY and this is when I realise that I am living the real life version of Office Space. Seriously. You think I am joking?

They moved my desk 2 times this month.



I can't wait to beat the crap out of that thing.

Another day, another novelty song...

Today I had yet ANOTHER novelty song stuck in my head. This time, I loved every minute of it.



I enjoy that when people were trying to tell me important work-type things all I was thinking was "Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, spooky, scary... boys becoming men, men becoming wolves."

I must say, I think the best part is "Cause you gotta love bar mitzvahs, even if you're not a... AWOOOOOOO!"

Stuck.

You know when you hear a little snippet of a song in passing and then you keep singing it in your head all day? ALL DAY? OVER AND OVER AGAIN?

This was my Tuesday.




Seriously. All day. "la lasagna..."

Livin' la vida lame-o.

Much like a certain species of crab and several disciples of a guy named Herman, I too have decided to become a hermit.

Temporarily.

This is not because I hate people (though sometimes I do) or because I fear the outside world (though sometimes I do)... it is because I am ghetto poor. For serious!

I suppose I could spare some cash for social occasions... but whenever I do that it seems to add up without me really noticing. Then I look at my bank account and I'm all, "Where the eff did my money go? OH YEAH, IT IS IN MY TUMMY BECAUSE I SPENT IT ON FOOD, BEER AND COFFEE."

So I have decided to kick it grown up stylez and put my money towards the things it really should be going to. This means that I am basically not going to go out anywhere... ever. Unless of course it is a special occasion. I will temporarily be bored out of my tree whilst I put the old cable tv to good use, but in the long run I will be a happier, less anxious person. Yay me! (groan)

So if you ask me to hang out and I say no, just know that it's not you... it's my goddamn bank account. Don't take it personally. I still enjoy your friendship.

I've got the skillz... now I just have to pay the billz. Word.

A benevolent dictator.

Yesterday I re-took the "How Evil Are You?" test to see how much MORE evil I have become in the past year. I am 6% more evil! I now rate a solid 80% on the scale of evilness. You know what that means... it means y'all better not eff with my shizz, cause I might have to cut you.

You've been warned in a hip and relevant manner.

Bernie objected to my answer to the following question, calling me a liar. (BTW, lying is EVIL... so even if I was lying, that would just prove my evilness. But I was not lying.)

Q: Which would you prefer: world domination or world peace?
A: World domination, OBVIOUSLY.

Anyone who chooses world peace is an idiot. Why? Because if you choose world peace, you don't get anything out of the deal. I chose world domination because if I were in charge everyone would have to do what I said... so if I felt like it, I could order people to create world peace. DUH. Therefore, I get world peace AND I get to be in charge.

Plus I could make George Clooney be my boyfriend. SO THERE.

PS: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

A Modest Proposal

So I have this really great idea. We should combine Thursday and Friday into one SUPERDAY and call it Thurfriday. (I am open to new name suggestions.)

I know, you are thinking "Holy crap, where did you get such an awesome idea?"

Well, it happened this morning when I woke up and thought it was Friday... and then got really bummed out when I realized it was only Thursday. (Friggin' DISS!)

So anyways, the most important thing about Thurfriday is that it would be the last weekday before the extra-long weekend which would now be made up of Friday Proper, Saturday and Sunday. It would pretty much be the best thing ever.

Come on kids, get on board with Thurfriday! Yay!

Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!

While I was on the phone with my mom last night helping her figure out how the crap to use her new computer (an iMac! It's almost cruel that these people, my parents, who have ZERO knowledge of technology have such an awesome computer.) she told me this delightful little story about my nephew, Gavin.

When he came home from pre-school yesterday he was talking to Ashley, my brother's fiance, about what he wants to be when he grows up. Here is the list:

1. A fireman. (A little on the dangerous side, but a noble and perfectly respectable occupation.)
2. A teacher. (Good solid union job, summers off. Decent choice.)
3. A canary. (They are yellow...???????)

Sadly, I am probably going to have to be the one to tell him how it is basically impossible to get a full time teaching job right out of school. Just call me Auntie Sarah, the crusher of dreams.

Seriously though. A CANARY! Not even I can begin to understand the 4 year old logic behind that one.

However, I'm not really one to talk. According to my mom, when I was the same age this lady asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said I wanted to deliver the paper. The lady was all, "Oh, you mean you want to write for the paper?" to which I responded, "NOOOOO. I WANT TO DELIVER THE PAPER."

My mom's response was, "Well, at least this way she won't be dissappointed!"

And I was not. My brother, however was a different story. He wanted to deliver pizza. The poor guy never learned how to drive.

Coming soon - more awesome family dysfunction!

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














THIS MIGHT FINALLY BE A MOVIE!!!!!! LOOK!

Awesome.

Boo! I found a real ghost!

Perhaps I am behind the times slightly, being that lately I seem to be more interested in hip hop and classic rock as opposed to indie rock. Whatever. As long as I eventually get to these things, I figure I'm okay.

ANYWAYS... so I just heard this Patrick Watson song for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and it FREAKED ME OUT. I was freaked out by how amazingly good it is, but what REALLY freaked me out is that it sounds so much like Jeff Buckley... who has been dead since 1997. Either this dude stole some tapes or he has become posessed by the voice of Buckley. Either way, it's weird and creepily amazing.




I should also mention that he won the 2007 Polaris Music Prize. (Take that, Arcade Fire!)

Now that you know what I will be listening to obsessively for the next 3 weeks, you can finally get some rest.

Giddy up.

With a few exceptions, it is generally thought that movie sequels are never as good as the original films. I was thinking that while I was watching Young Guns II.

But then I become confused.

As it turns out, Young Guns II is way crazier than regular Young Guns. I had completely forgotten about two things:

1) Ummmm... BLAZE OF GLORY??? That song is so rad. Plus, Jon Bon Jovi has a tiny little cameo appearance. How is that not awesome? Dang.

2) Weirdo Gil Grissom from CSI Vegas is totally in this movie. Normally that would not be awesome, because he is supremely annoying. However, in this case there is a part where he happens to look sort of like an old-timey version of Wolverine, sans giant claws. WTF? That's crazy! (It should be noted that he does shave his face and looks normal again. It is not the same after that.)

Oh, 1990. You were so wacky. I love you for that.