UPDATE: Let’s get political (now with more haiku-ness)

It’s ELECTION DAY! Every time this fateful day comes along, my tummy is filled with nervous butterflies. The results of the 2K6 federal election left me feeling deflated, but had I only known the havoc a Conservative minority could wreak, I may have swam out to sea to live on a raft for the last 2 years. Harper’s enforced policy of governmental secrecy has left many Canadians surprised and angry as citizens are often informed of program cuts and policy reforms AFTER the changes have been already been passed. The defeat of the copyright amendment Bill C-61 is a testament to how “ordinary” Canadians react to the Conservatives’ calculated attacks on culture, when they are properly informed of what their elected officials are doing.

The above rant makes very clear who I won’t be voting for today. Shame on you, Mr. Harper; I hope you get what’s coming to you this evening.

UPDATE: I realized that I failed to include a haiku here, which goes against my self-imposed rules for posting here.

Dear Mr. Harper,

It’s not personal, but

I’d like you to lose.

 

Just sleep it off, dummy

For Your Health

So I’m thinking about completely glazing over the fact that I haven’t written a post since the birth of Methuselah and just making various lists of all the things that I’ve been up to for the past 4 months that will (ideally) include hilarious links, witty, biting remarks, and strategically placed images culled from the cavernous pit of treasure known as CYBERSPACE. I gravitate towards this method of recap only to save you, gentle reader, from long and arduous excuses about my tardiness. Here goes:

Things I Did On My Very First Punk-Rock Tour

• Attempted to sleep in a U-Haul Trailer (AKA Commercial Freezer on Wheels)
• Became desensitized to sitting in the fog rising off 4-6 unwashed male bodies at any given time
• Ate Vancouver’s most delicious fish and chips and ran away from 500 seagulls eating the remains of Paul’s fries
• Saw many old man wangs at Wreck Beach; went swimming in my dress which disturbed Radam (which I felt was rather hypocritical of him, as one so accustomed to public partial nudity…)
• Sang Morrissey karaoke before performing at the hottest venue in East Hastings
• Made it across the U.S. border without wetting myself in fear and desperation
• Hung out in a Frank Gehry building that housed Sci-Fi memorabilia alongside a two-storey pillar of guitars
• Snuck underaged fellows into The Funhouse
• Lost my mind in Powell’s City of Books
• Met two awesome Portlanders
• Drove all night (to get to you)
• Rocked out to these guys every night

Some Books I’ve Been Reading

• The Autobiography of F.B.I. Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life, My Tapes by Scott Frost and The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer by Mark Frost and Jennifer Lynch (both of which freaked my shit and troubled my sleep)
• Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut (late to the party on this one, but better late than never)
• City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau (kid-lit)
• World War Z by Max Brooks
• Neil Young Nation by Kevin Chong (unfortunately, this one gets a soild “meh”)

Random Things That Have Been Occupying My Thoughts

• Flying to Ottawa to egg 24 Sussex Drive
• Going to sleep to dream of happiness and light, and not waking until November 5, 2008, when it will be clear whether or not we have entered the End of Days

• How strangely good the new Fucked Up album is, and how totally awesome Women are
• Spagett!

And now, as is customary, a vow to post more, in haiku form:

my fingers will fly

across the keys like lightning

a promise to keep

 

Ode to a stolen granny bike

I should have locked you

away from menacing hands,

to always keep you.

………….

Springy padded seat,

and lovely shining fenders.

Farewell granny bike.

 

And now for the ever-popular List of Things That Make Me Feel Crappy At Work

[Dear Reader: if you are having a good day, don't let this bring you down. Go read the post about demons instead, or scroll past this to the sweet Samsquanch photo below.]

• Locking myself out of my office (repeatedly, all day long)
• Losing important things
• Being talked down to by grumpy secretaries
• Getting my feelings hurt by said “professional assistants”
• Being called by the wrong name (on purpose?)
• Over-thinking a small thing like being called by the wrong name (see parentheses above)
• Putting something off for a long time because it sucks, only to be bit in the ass for doing so (and knowing that it is my own fault)

And now for the more uplifting List of Things That Make Me Feel Awesome At Work

• Changing my desktop picture to this
• Consuming vast amounts of “cappuccino” from the automated dispensing machine
• Eating a very garlicky (read: delicious) lunch
• Saving money by bringing said lunch from home
• Amassing physical evidence of my employment-related competence
• Being told that I came across as “very professional” while being interviewed by the effervescent crew of Shaw TV (a session which I previously felt contained far too many “um”s and confused brow-furrowing on my part)
• Finding the picture below while googling the Sasquatch Music Festival (only 18 days away and counting!)

incompetence is

relative, but manifests

in empty stomachs

 

Unclean spirits for a wicked generation

This just in from the ever-conservative desk of Pope Benedict XVI: “Bring it on, demons!”

quartermass was busy watching CBC News Sunday this morning (while I was fast asleep), and gleefully informed me that Carole MacNeil interviewed one of the top Papal exorcists, who informed her that demonic possessions are on the rise and the Vatican is wanting every Roman Catholic diocese to have a trained exorcist on staff. Said Papal authority even performed the right of exorcism on Ms. MacNeil, much to her journalistic delight.

Laughable, right? Contemporary ghost stories, obviously.

Well, yes, except for the fact that demonic possession freaks the bejesus out of me. Seriously. The Exorcist is my all-time most scarring movie-watching experience, and like a moth to the flame, I continue to watch it over and over. Deep, garring voices emerging from little girl? Ancient Aramaic mixed in with backwards talking and random screams? Ill-fated priests thrown to their deaths from 3rd-storey windows? Head-spinning and projectile pea-soup vomiting? A masterful score ridden with suspense? Backwards crab-walk down the stairs? gah. Horrifying.

Oh Jesus. I couldn’t even convince myself to watch that trailer for longer than 3 seconds, and trying to find images to link in the above laundry list of scary things is making my palms sweat. I apologize deeply, gentle reader, and hope that you

1) weren’t raised by a devout Catholic (I swear that’s where it all begins)

2) chalk demonic possession up to the improper diagnosis of any number of severe mental disorders

3) find my deep-seeded, neurotic fears hilarious (if this is true, I choose to believe you are already possessed by Beelzebub and your soul is forever lost)

Off to wrap myself tightly in some blankets, turn off the lights and clutch my rosary.

Dear little Reagan,

stay away from the Ouija;

keep your head on straight.

 

Diagnosis is in

‘Grasp of the Phantom‘

dramatically named illness

it’s no Billy Zane.

 

Pneu kid on the block

sharp pain in the chest

and the clammy hands of death

hurty, cold – ow ow

 

Live blogging: Madonna’s ‘4 Minutes’ (and counting)

Things are looking up.

And for some unknown reason, I am going to celebrate this by live blogging the new MADONNA MUSIC VIDEO!

00:03 – Timbaland and a giant countdown clock? Too easy.

00:18 – Geometric cloud of death. I am reminded of ‘HyperCube‘ – most definitely not a positive association.

00:37 – Madonna + Pimp Mobile x (so far no grandmas or Ali. G) = meh.

00:47 – Geometric death cloud interrupts a quiet family dinner. The actors are paid well to ignore Madge’s dom costume.

00:53 – Singing starts. Improvement on Timbaland? Marginally.

00:57 – Geometric death cloud bisects stuff! Cool bathtub shot! Interest is piqued.

01:01 – My BF, JT. This video just went from being 1.5 stars to 3 at least.

01:08 – Ew! Death cloud starts slicing through some makey-outey. Ick. Very Human Body Exhibition-esque.

01:15 – Nasal passages and cavernous mouths galore. Double ick.

01:26 – Uh, hair colour, skin and corset are all one tone. A writhing, peachy smudge. Problematic, methinks.

01:34 – Parking lot under siege from black murder cubes.

01:41 – JT likes Lovers in the Backseat, and apparently is fond of the cougars. Crap.

01:52 – JT’s hook is undeniable. Double crap.

02:05 – Killer blob enters supermarket. Consumes metric tonne of hair styling products.

02:21 – Treadmill prowling: sexy or scary?

02:30 – Madge is channeling Carol Burnett as Miss Hannigan here, surely.

02:32 – No.

02:58 – C’mon……. NO.

03:45 – Dance-fighting to save the world from cloud of pestilent cubes. I’m pretty sure that is a tag-line being shopped around for a movie deal already.

03:59 – Justin’s been hit! MEDIC!

04:04 – Final impressions while watching Madge’s face go under the slicer: catchy song, T-Lake is still hot to trot, Madonna is a bit creep-city. 3/5 stars.

Run from the death cloud

as it shifts and grows and kills;

it will eat your face.

 

A rose by any other name (would be just as miserable)

The dust has (mostly) settled with regard to my work situation, so I back to my regular, cool-as-a-cucumber (!) self.

With one exception.

Last weekend I attended the small get-together of some friends, and was the first to arrive along with qmass. In talking with the host couple, it came up that a certain individual who works at the same institution as I would be attending. I immediately froze. This person is one of my (rather few) nemesis(es? nemesi?), and has single-handedly ruined various work days goneby with a harping, malicious, all-knowing and frosty attitude. Since our initial horrorshow encounters, I have done my all to avoid said individual, even when doing so compromises my work ethic and/or causes me to duck into an elevator already crammed with 19 other people. Needless to say, the pit of my stomach became a block of ice at the knowledge that I would be sharing a room and plate of fried cheese sticks with this mortal enemy. I couldn’t think of anything else but ways to leave, or crevices to hide in, or objects to wield in an effort to fend off her frosted tipped and gel nailed advances.

The doorbell rang, other guests arrived, and my foe was nowhere to be seen. And yet, I overheard other revelers calling a pleasant-looking partygoer by the name of my occupational adversary.

It quickly became clear: all this time, I’ve been labeling my rival with the wrong name, and vilifying an innocent bystander. It is a good thing that I’ve kept rather mum on the topic until now, since I felt horribly for slandering this person that gladly gave me my portion of mozza sticks and dip. I felt sheepish, but relieved that my vendetta could live another day in darkness, and not by thrust into the spotlight over drinks and RockBand.

As I get older

I thought I’d get smarter too.

I.Q. maxed, age 10.

 

Scandaltown = What REALLY caused Anderson Cooper’s facial disfiguration???

The Associated Press is reporting that CNN’s Anderson Cooper recently had a cancerous mole removed from below his left eye, which would explain the red mark visible on his face over the past week. It WOULD, that is, if you BUY that story. I have a few other ideas. A list of possible (and I would argue, probable) causes of this facial sore:

• mountain lion mauling
• night terror + unkempt fingernails = inch-long face gash
• bagel-slicing mishap
• terrorist act
• counter-terrorist act
• fisticuffs with Larry King, backstage after the latter’s interview with Janet Jackson (nasty boys)
• rusty razor malfunction
• disastrous eye-lift plastic surgery scarring
• strategic distraction tactic to make viewers forget about his “conflict of interest on gay issues”? (Americans For Truth, you terrify me, btw)
• well-meaning but ill-executed attempt at increasing his rugged good looks (scars work for Seal, right?)

Anderson, your hair

shiny as the nighttime stars.

Silver fox, indeed.