So I got the "chuck you Farlie" e-mail from the Ontario Arts Council. Apparently it was just so gosh darn tough to choose between all the highly qualified applicants. I wish that companies would only say that when it actually is tough instead of saying it everytime. They should say:
Dear applicant,
You have been tested, you have been judged, and you have been found wanting. Have you tried Burger King?
Sincerely,
I. Havajobandudont
Anyway. I'm still looking. This week I technically have a job. I'm helping Amy (best friend) take care of Stephanie (best friend's sister). Getting paid and everything. Most of the time we just sit around and watch movies. It's a great job. I'm looking for a more permanant position though (ie: longer than one week).
Tonight: pj party with junk-food-athon!
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Cold brings us together
Normally, the citizens of and commuters to down town Toronto do their best to avoid each others eyes when they ride the subway and walk the streets. But on Friday when I went to Toronto, several Torontonians broke the big city practice of anonymity in order to participate in a far more sacred Canadian tradition:
"It's cold out there, eh?"
"You can say that again."
"It's supposed to get down to minus 24 today."
"Is that all? It feels colder."
"The wind chill brings it down another 10 degrees."
blah, blah, blah
I had this conversation waiting in line to get subway tokens, on the subway, in an elevator, during a job interview, in three different stores, and again on the subway on the way back. Not one time did alarm bells go off in my head: AwooGA CRAZY PERSON AwooGA, which normally happens if someone talks to me on the subway. Also, the few times I initiated the ritual, the other person gave no sign that he thought I was a weirdo. Cold weather is something we can all talk about. It's what makes us all Canadian.
On the subject of cold bringing people together. Today, after dinner and after a snow storm, my brother, my fiancé, my nephew and I went out to the super market to buy some ice cream. Even putting aside the oddity of craving ice cream in minus 30 weather, a simple errand turns into quite an undertaking when it involves dressing a 3-year-old in a snowsuit, installing a carseat wearing mittens (or worse, not wearing mittens), and navigating unplowed parking lots. We arrived home safely with a carton of strawberry ice cream, and one of heavenly hash. "The best part about this ice cream," said my brother, "is that we earned it." (although it turned out my nephew wanted jello instead).
I began composing this late-night blog entry just after my fiancé left for the night. A minute into it and I get a phone call. Who could be calling at this unholy hour? I say to myself (because I always talk like a pompous Victorian when noone's around). I answer the phone and it's Adam (the aforementioned fiancé). He's calling from his cell phone because his car won't start and he has to stay over night. How's that for bringing people together?
"It's cold out there, eh?"
"You can say that again."
"It's supposed to get down to minus 24 today."
"Is that all? It feels colder."
"The wind chill brings it down another 10 degrees."
blah, blah, blah
I had this conversation waiting in line to get subway tokens, on the subway, in an elevator, during a job interview, in three different stores, and again on the subway on the way back. Not one time did alarm bells go off in my head: AwooGA CRAZY PERSON AwooGA, which normally happens if someone talks to me on the subway. Also, the few times I initiated the ritual, the other person gave no sign that he thought I was a weirdo. Cold weather is something we can all talk about. It's what makes us all Canadian.
On the subject of cold bringing people together. Today, after dinner and after a snow storm, my brother, my fiancé, my nephew and I went out to the super market to buy some ice cream. Even putting aside the oddity of craving ice cream in minus 30 weather, a simple errand turns into quite an undertaking when it involves dressing a 3-year-old in a snowsuit, installing a carseat wearing mittens (or worse, not wearing mittens), and navigating unplowed parking lots. We arrived home safely with a carton of strawberry ice cream, and one of heavenly hash. "The best part about this ice cream," said my brother, "is that we earned it." (although it turned out my nephew wanted jello instead).
I began composing this late-night blog entry just after my fiancé left for the night. A minute into it and I get a phone call. Who could be calling at this unholy hour? I say to myself (because I always talk like a pompous Victorian when noone's around). I answer the phone and it's Adam (the aforementioned fiancé). He's calling from his cell phone because his car won't start and he has to stay over night. How's that for bringing people together?
Monday, January 17, 2005
Houses and Henry
Today my good friend (also my fiancé) Adam and I went looking at houses in Hamilton* together. We're not ready to bye yet but it's nice to get an idea. Plus it's fun. We went to 3 houses.
The first was was all redone nice but it had a weird layout and was quite small (even for a small house) and was made even smaller by the fact that it was super crowded from people who, like us, saw the big ad it had in the Spec**.
The next one was much roomier, but was cold from being heated only by radiators and had some weirdness. The weirdness? There was a toilet in the basement laundry room. No, not a washroom. A toilet, just sitting there by the washer and dryer so you could do your business while the laundry maid*** looked on. Also Adam and I couldn't figure out how the owners got a 4-foot wide washer and a 4-foot wide dryer down a 1-foot wide staircase. Baffling.
The last house we looked at was in a grungy neighbourhood where every other yard had a plastic Virgin Mary. The house itself was like the others except whoever lived there was a freaky religious knicknack collector. Every room had at least a thousand Madonna statues, crosses, and pictures of the Pope****. One room had a photo of the Backstreet Boys*****. (???!) And there was a poster of women in Budweiser bathing suits in the upstairs hall.
*A city known for steel, polution, McMaster University, and generally cheap housing.
**The Hamilton Spectator, a newspaper.
*** Though I'd imagine someone who could afford a maid just for laundry could also afford to install a furnace.
****I'm not even kidding.
***** A boy band once popular with preteen girls and apparently also enjoyed by freaky religious knicknack collectors.
Later, Adam and I wrote the following, non-househunting-related, revolving story:
Henry
Once upon a time there was a pebble named Henry. Henry was in a tough situation as he was stuck in some guy's shoe. Every week he ended up somewhere else; this week it was Mississippi. Some pizza guy's shoe. It didn't smell but it wasn't very roomy being that there was a foot inside it. You see Henry was a Quantum Leap fan and built a leaping machine but instead of leaping from human body to human body he leapt from shoe to shoe and couldn't figure how to change it.
It seemed as if he would always be stuck in shoes. You would think that people would feel the pebble and throw Henry out but surprisingly not. Henry wanted a change and began working on his greatest invention ever the super flux capasitant, which as everyone knows is a super tasty kind of cheese that if Henry sold it would make him the richest pebble ever and he could buy all the shoes and never have to share with a foot ever again. But Henry knew this was a ridiculous idea as pebbles don't need money and even if they had it, couldn't spend it anywhere since he couldn't get out of the shoe. Besides, who would sell a pebble shoes? How would he carry his money? It would be bigger then he is.
Then he got an idea. He would communicate telepathically with the pizza guy and get him to buy things online for him. This is the way he would start his large shoe collection and buy all the shoes in the room.
I know what you're thinking: a fabulous notion. I mean a pebble with a shoe collection. Crazy yes. Impossible...well yes I mean...no.
So he began taking classes in telepathy but since he was a pebble it didn't work. Since he could not talk he could not tell the teacher he wanted to sign up and he instead had to sit in the back and pretend to be a pebble on the floor. Which he was so he wasn't really pretending.
But anyway without warning he started convulsing like a crazy pebbly monster who likes snickers bars and floor lint. This would not stop him from his ultimate goal of cross-dressing dogs in gay clubs with other snickers bars. "Man", he said, I have to lay off the drugs. It started with just one puff and now I'm an addict! So he went to Druggie Pebbles Anonymous and signed up. This time he could talk because he was talking to his reflection in the other side of the shoe. Remember, of course, he can't leave the blasted shoe. His hallucinations were going overboard. He's a pebble. Geeze. He can't do squat. Man, he thought to himself, what can I do? Maybe suicide. But no since how could he commit suicide when there was lint in the shoe watching his every move and forming a support group for suicidal pebbles? No, he would escape the shoe instead to find a chango machine. Chango, the famous suishi vending maching company.
Their machines were very popular. Even so much so that this very shoe had one. Henry jumped up and tapped one of the buttons and out came a meal of sushi. Since he could eat it he just sat there and ate it. Then he ordered 50 more sushi meals and stacked them on top of each other to make a ladder and escape the shoe. Then he went out into the world to find a witch who could change him into a human with her magic. He asked the witch, without speaking or moving, to change him over.
She instead accidentally turned him into a small pebble that was stuck in a shoe. What luck. Oh the humanity!! I mean pebbleanity!! It was terrible to think his measly existence was even measlier than before. But wait a minute! This was a sandal! He fell out and went to find a more reliable witch who could speak pebble and would change him into the sexiest man and he knew with a pebble in his shoe.
He would be the pebble of course. Wait, maybe a gall stone. Or a ball bearing in some fancy machine. That would be great. He couldn't find a witch. They all died in the great quake of 1980. It was a shame. There were no more weirdo pebble speakers. He became depressed and stopped breathing.
He started molding over like cheese and then someone came by and said, "Wow this is the tastiest cheese ever!" and they paid him a million dollars. No actually a billion trillion guzillion dollars plus all the shoes in the world. And he was happy forever and ever.
The End.
The first was was all redone nice but it had a weird layout and was quite small (even for a small house) and was made even smaller by the fact that it was super crowded from people who, like us, saw the big ad it had in the Spec**.
The next one was much roomier, but was cold from being heated only by radiators and had some weirdness. The weirdness? There was a toilet in the basement laundry room. No, not a washroom. A toilet, just sitting there by the washer and dryer so you could do your business while the laundry maid*** looked on. Also Adam and I couldn't figure out how the owners got a 4-foot wide washer and a 4-foot wide dryer down a 1-foot wide staircase. Baffling.
The last house we looked at was in a grungy neighbourhood where every other yard had a plastic Virgin Mary. The house itself was like the others except whoever lived there was a freaky religious knicknack collector. Every room had at least a thousand Madonna statues, crosses, and pictures of the Pope****. One room had a photo of the Backstreet Boys*****. (???!) And there was a poster of women in Budweiser bathing suits in the upstairs hall.
*A city known for steel, polution, McMaster University, and generally cheap housing.
**The Hamilton Spectator, a newspaper.
*** Though I'd imagine someone who could afford a maid just for laundry could also afford to install a furnace.
****I'm not even kidding.
***** A boy band once popular with preteen girls and apparently also enjoyed by freaky religious knicknack collectors.
Later, Adam and I wrote the following, non-househunting-related, revolving story:
Henry
Once upon a time there was a pebble named Henry. Henry was in a tough situation as he was stuck in some guy's shoe. Every week he ended up somewhere else; this week it was Mississippi. Some pizza guy's shoe. It didn't smell but it wasn't very roomy being that there was a foot inside it. You see Henry was a Quantum Leap fan and built a leaping machine but instead of leaping from human body to human body he leapt from shoe to shoe and couldn't figure how to change it.
It seemed as if he would always be stuck in shoes. You would think that people would feel the pebble and throw Henry out but surprisingly not. Henry wanted a change and began working on his greatest invention ever the super flux capasitant, which as everyone knows is a super tasty kind of cheese that if Henry sold it would make him the richest pebble ever and he could buy all the shoes and never have to share with a foot ever again. But Henry knew this was a ridiculous idea as pebbles don't need money and even if they had it, couldn't spend it anywhere since he couldn't get out of the shoe. Besides, who would sell a pebble shoes? How would he carry his money? It would be bigger then he is.
Then he got an idea. He would communicate telepathically with the pizza guy and get him to buy things online for him. This is the way he would start his large shoe collection and buy all the shoes in the room.
I know what you're thinking: a fabulous notion. I mean a pebble with a shoe collection. Crazy yes. Impossible...well yes I mean...no.
So he began taking classes in telepathy but since he was a pebble it didn't work. Since he could not talk he could not tell the teacher he wanted to sign up and he instead had to sit in the back and pretend to be a pebble on the floor. Which he was so he wasn't really pretending.
But anyway without warning he started convulsing like a crazy pebbly monster who likes snickers bars and floor lint. This would not stop him from his ultimate goal of cross-dressing dogs in gay clubs with other snickers bars. "Man", he said, I have to lay off the drugs. It started with just one puff and now I'm an addict! So he went to Druggie Pebbles Anonymous and signed up. This time he could talk because he was talking to his reflection in the other side of the shoe. Remember, of course, he can't leave the blasted shoe. His hallucinations were going overboard. He's a pebble. Geeze. He can't do squat. Man, he thought to himself, what can I do? Maybe suicide. But no since how could he commit suicide when there was lint in the shoe watching his every move and forming a support group for suicidal pebbles? No, he would escape the shoe instead to find a chango machine. Chango, the famous suishi vending maching company.
Their machines were very popular. Even so much so that this very shoe had one. Henry jumped up and tapped one of the buttons and out came a meal of sushi. Since he could eat it he just sat there and ate it. Then he ordered 50 more sushi meals and stacked them on top of each other to make a ladder and escape the shoe. Then he went out into the world to find a witch who could change him into a human with her magic. He asked the witch, without speaking or moving, to change him over.
She instead accidentally turned him into a small pebble that was stuck in a shoe. What luck. Oh the humanity!! I mean pebbleanity!! It was terrible to think his measly existence was even measlier than before. But wait a minute! This was a sandal! He fell out and went to find a more reliable witch who could speak pebble and would change him into the sexiest man and he knew with a pebble in his shoe.
He would be the pebble of course. Wait, maybe a gall stone. Or a ball bearing in some fancy machine. That would be great. He couldn't find a witch. They all died in the great quake of 1980. It was a shame. There were no more weirdo pebble speakers. He became depressed and stopped breathing.
He started molding over like cheese and then someone came by and said, "Wow this is the tastiest cheese ever!" and they paid him a million dollars. No actually a billion trillion guzillion dollars plus all the shoes in the world. And he was happy forever and ever.
The End.
Friday, January 14, 2005
I can go back to listening to English radio
I just had my french telephone interview for the Ontario Arts Council position. Non-billingual blog readers will be relieved to hear that I will be switching back to english now. Probably Forever.
The interview went okay. I concentrated more on how to say stuff in french than what I was actually going to say. This may have made me sound like a dork (who happens to speak pretty good french) but it kind of made me less nervous. After the phone call I felt soooooooooooo relieved. Whether I get the job or not I feel like I've accomplished something. I really am billingual now. In fact, I find myself thinking in french. If I sound a little bizarre it's because I'm translating my thoughts from french to english. The brain is a funny organ.
Update: I just got a call from the Arts Council. Apparently I'm french enough because I have an interview scheduled for next friday! Go me!
The interview went okay. I concentrated more on how to say stuff in french than what I was actually going to say. This may have made me sound like a dork (who happens to speak pretty good french) but it kind of made me less nervous. After the phone call I felt soooooooooooo relieved. Whether I get the job or not I feel like I've accomplished something. I really am billingual now. In fact, I find myself thinking in french. If I sound a little bizarre it's because I'm translating my thoughts from french to english. The brain is a funny organ.
Update: I just got a call from the Arts Council. Apparently I'm french enough because I have an interview scheduled for next friday! Go me!
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Le Babel et le Babble
I discovered that if you put yesterday's post into Babel, all you get is gabbledy gook. No worries, it wasn't that interesting.
Pour ce qui comprendre le français:
Je suis allée à la classe de Mme Marsh, une de mes anciennes professeurs. Comme c'est bizarre d'être en école secondaire encore! Je ne pense pas que la classe m'aide vraiment a reapprendre le français, mais je vais attendre le reste de la semaine qu'en même. La plupart du classe nous regardons une filme. Vu savez lequelle? Un homme et son péché! Oui, Séraphin Poudrier, l'avare favori de tout le monde, tient le premier rôle maintenant dans un nouveau film!
En plus j'écoutais Le Radio Canada toute la journée pendant que je faisais les peintures pour mes pièces maîtresses de mariage. Quand est-ce que j'obtiendrai un travail?
Pour ce qui comprendre le français:
Je suis allée à la classe de Mme Marsh, une de mes anciennes professeurs. Comme c'est bizarre d'être en école secondaire encore! Je ne pense pas que la classe m'aide vraiment a reapprendre le français, mais je vais attendre le reste de la semaine qu'en même. La plupart du classe nous regardons une filme. Vu savez lequelle? Un homme et son péché! Oui, Séraphin Poudrier, l'avare favori de tout le monde, tient le premier rôle maintenant dans un nouveau film!
En plus j'écoutais Le Radio Canada toute la journée pendant que je faisais les peintures pour mes pièces maîtresses de mariage. Quand est-ce que j'obtiendrai un travail?
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Je dois être fluent par vendredi
If you don't understand the following blog entry go to Babel Fish copy and paste the the blog in the box, and let the fish translate it for you. Don't come crying to me.
Vendredi, une femme va me téléphoné pour évaluer mon français. Mon français est très rouiller depuis l'école secondaire! Heir j'ai regardé un DVD et jes mis le doublage en français. En français "Down with Love" s'appelle "L'amour, Non Merci." Ceci n'est pas une translation directe, mais nous trouvons la juste. Je peuvais comprendre aussi bien le dialogue, mais peut être c'est parce que j'ai déjà vu ce film en anglais. Je vais attender la classe d'une de mes anciennes profs de français ce semaine aussi. Je pense que ça va être étrange.
Autre nouvelles: J'avais une entrevue aujourd'hui à Wells Fargo Financial à Burlington. Ma amie Amy travaille au Wells Fargo à Mississauga et elle m'a donné une référence. L'entrevue est bien allé. Je le sais parce que il ne m'a jamais donner le regard. Vous le savez, le regard qui dit "je ne peux pas imaginer l'univers où ce dernier réponse sois intelligent. Je vais continuer l'entrevue pour m'amuser, même si j'ai déjà décider que tu es imbécile."
Vendredi, une femme va me téléphoné pour évaluer mon français. Mon français est très rouiller depuis l'école secondaire! Heir j'ai regardé un DVD et jes mis le doublage en français. En français "Down with Love" s'appelle "L'amour, Non Merci." Ceci n'est pas une translation directe, mais nous trouvons la juste. Je peuvais comprendre aussi bien le dialogue, mais peut être c'est parce que j'ai déjà vu ce film en anglais. Je vais attender la classe d'une de mes anciennes profs de français ce semaine aussi. Je pense que ça va être étrange.
Autre nouvelles: J'avais une entrevue aujourd'hui à Wells Fargo Financial à Burlington. Ma amie Amy travaille au Wells Fargo à Mississauga et elle m'a donné une référence. L'entrevue est bien allé. Je le sais parce que il ne m'a jamais donner le regard. Vous le savez, le regard qui dit "je ne peux pas imaginer l'univers où ce dernier réponse sois intelligent. Je vais continuer l'entrevue pour m'amuser, même si j'ai déjà décider que tu es imbécile."
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Karaoke
Yesterday my good friend Eireann, my brother Craig, my future sister-in-law Julie, my Adam, and I all went Karaokeing at the Black Bull. I sang "Oh Boy" and I think I heard good ol' Buddy turning over in his grave. Singing on stage is lots different than the Karaoke revolution game 'cause there's no arrow telling you if your hitting the notes!
Some highlights: Eireann and I sang "I touch myself", very amusing. Craig, Eireann, and Julie dedicated the song "Daydream Believer" to me and Adam. Craig even did the whole walk up (you know where the singer walks into the audience and sings right to you) . It was sweet.
I highly recommend Karaokeing to everyone, especially horrible singers. There's always at least one singer who is more horrible than you. Trust me.
Some highlights: Eireann and I sang "I touch myself", very amusing. Craig, Eireann, and Julie dedicated the song "Daydream Believer" to me and Adam. Craig even did the whole walk up (you know where the singer walks into the audience and sings right to you) . It was sweet.
I highly recommend Karaokeing to everyone, especially horrible singers. There's always at least one singer who is more horrible than you. Trust me.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Blog your own adventure...Why is Nicton Crying?
Continued from:
http://becca_cricket.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-your-own-adventure_30.html#comments
Started from:
http://becca_cricket.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-your-own-adventure-beginning.html
When Kaitlyn got back down stairs she peered into the Kitchen, and she realized she hadn't dreamt anything at all! There was Nicton, sobbing out his big purple eyes, using her mothers napkins to dry his big orange tears...She, not so afraid of him now that she saw he was a sissy, wandered up to him and asked, "Mr. Nicton, Why are you crying???"
"Oh, Young Earth Animal. I have been to five houses already, and no one will lend me their organs!" The alien in the Santa suit sobbed. "If I don't get some human organs by your Boxing Day, I will fail my science project!"
Kaitlyn frowned. "Science project? I thought you said you were a scientist."
Nicton blinked back orange tears. "I thought you'd be more likely to help if I exaggerated my credentials."
"I want to help, Nicton, but I can't give you my organs," she said. "If humans are without their organs for even a short while they die. Sorry."
"Oh," Nicton said. Then he cried some more.
"Is there someway I can help," asked Kaitlyn. "I mean, without donating my organs?"
Nicton tilted his green head as if deep in thought. After a few minutes his big purple eyes lit up. "I know! I know! Come with me to my space ship, Earth Animal, and I know exactly how you can help."
Kaitlyn was skeptical. Oh well, she thought, it is Christmas after all.
For you to continue...
http://becca_cricket.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-your-own-adventure_30.html#comments
Started from:
http://becca_cricket.blogspot.com/2004/12/blog-your-own-adventure-beginning.html
When Kaitlyn got back down stairs she peered into the Kitchen, and she realized she hadn't dreamt anything at all! There was Nicton, sobbing out his big purple eyes, using her mothers napkins to dry his big orange tears...She, not so afraid of him now that she saw he was a sissy, wandered up to him and asked, "Mr. Nicton, Why are you crying???"
"Oh, Young Earth Animal. I have been to five houses already, and no one will lend me their organs!" The alien in the Santa suit sobbed. "If I don't get some human organs by your Boxing Day, I will fail my science project!"
Kaitlyn frowned. "Science project? I thought you said you were a scientist."
Nicton blinked back orange tears. "I thought you'd be more likely to help if I exaggerated my credentials."
"I want to help, Nicton, but I can't give you my organs," she said. "If humans are without their organs for even a short while they die. Sorry."
"Oh," Nicton said. Then he cried some more.
"Is there someway I can help," asked Kaitlyn. "I mean, without donating my organs?"
Nicton tilted his green head as if deep in thought. After a few minutes his big purple eyes lit up. "I know! I know! Come with me to my space ship, Earth Animal, and I know exactly how you can help."
Kaitlyn was skeptical. Oh well, she thought, it is Christmas after all.
For you to continue...
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Wouldn't it be great if you could have all the fab recipes in this blog in one recipe blog?
Now you can! www.superhappyrecipes.blogspot.com
So far I only have the two recipes from this blog (ham and cheese muffins and schnitzel) but I expect my recipe collection to grow and grow and grow.
(I'm trying to make things easier on myself for when I have to move out and actually cook stuff).
So far I only have the two recipes from this blog (ham and cheese muffins and schnitzel) but I expect my recipe collection to grow and grow and grow.
(I'm trying to make things easier on myself for when I have to move out and actually cook stuff).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
