Not My Blog
Monday, February 28, 2005
Shut my mouth! The Oscar Dü was very well attended indeed, and I greatly enjoyed confusing the 20-somethings with my nurse's outfit. On three separate occasions I was approached and asked why I was dressed as a nurse. I would reply, "Does 'Nurse Ratched' ring a bell?" or "You're too [damned/effin'/friggin'] young," depending on how I felt at the moment. Still, quite a few people got it, especially when Kreg, Fearless and I stood together. Fearless managed a quite accurate Billy Bibbit stutter, either that or she should never mix champagne and beer. Turns out there wasn't a costume contest, just that I had seen "costumes" and "prizes" on the tickets and assumed a connection. Well, no matter. It was fun sewing the costume and even more fun trying to get into it on Sunday night.
Gratuitous funny moment: I was hanging out by the table where oysters were being shucked and served on the half shell, and then I thought, um, perhaps the sight of a nurse standing by a table of raw oysters will drive business away. Also: Thanks, Blake, for your kind offers of complimentary beverages--it was very, very kind of you. It's fairly hard to catch me between beers, but I do appreciate the effort.
Only 14 correct picks out of 24 this year for me -- but remember! I don't care.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Who cares? Nobody! But still, with jaded and snarky attitude, here we go:
My Surefire Oscar GuessesBut really! I don't care!
Actually, der Kreg and Fearless and I are heading out to a real live Oscar party at a downtown movie theatre -- sorry, uptown. The Uptown, in fact. Their first annual "Oskar Dü." Prizes are to be awarded for costumes and such, so in grand collegiate spirit, we're going to salute the 30th anniversary of the Best Picture winner, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." Der Kreg will be playing McMurphy, complete with lobotomy bruises, I will be Mildred Ratched (rather aptly, in my case, known as "Big Nurse"), and Fearless, although she doesn't know it yet, will be a Thorazined-up mental patient. Naturally I have chosen a role that requires a costume I do not own. Thank God for the internet. I now have a pattern for the traditional nurse's cap, but will be forced to cobble together something for the nursing uniform.
When I went to get the tickets, I noticed a huge stack of them behind the counter. Well, it increases our odds of winning the costume contest, at least, if we're the only ones there.
If I begin to resemble my dog as our association grows ever older, then at some point in the future I envision picking up certain of her mannerisms. Should I pick up her, ahem, excretory habits, then my version will consist of swiping both feet in rapid succession on the floor before bursting from the bathroom cubicle at a dead run. I must say, ending a bodily function on such a celebratory note does look like fun.
Tried to watch "Dirty War" on PBS the other night, but chickened halfway through. The film, which premiered on BBC last fall, deals with a dirty bomb explosion in the centre of London, and as is usual with British realism, was absolutely chilling. I found myself getting more and more apprehensive and finally thought, this is brilliant, this is unforgettable, but I do have to get some sleep tonight. I remember being transfixed about 20 years ago when watching another British film, "Threads," about nuclear bombs hitting the UK and how one woman survives the ensuing catastrophe. Scenes from that film still replay in my head from time to time, particularly when I see maddened scavengers eating the raw limbs of dead sheep in the fields. Snort.
Three wrong numbers on my cellphone in the space of 5 minutes. Mike, if you're reading this, they need you at the meat counter because everyone's schedule has changed. And Mike, why does your number bring up the name "Jane Farries" on my phone?
Friday, February 18, 2005
Perfection, Messed with. Oh, no. No. NO! What a terrible thing to do to a rabbit. Will a video-game-age "Buzz Bunny" still say, "What's up, Doc?" It is to cry.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Did I have fun pelting commoners with candy in last weekend's Cutter Parade in Lacombe? Yes indeed. Appearing in the role of "Sled Ballast," I took my place with Jean and Tyke, and there was even a rare appearance by Fearless. It was equally fun to watch Fearless get gunned on Rocket candy (i.e., pure dextrose) and start peppering the crowd frenziedly with bite-sized Oh Henry bars. There were 61 cutters and sleds in the parade, and Dusty and King, the Belgian horses, behaved beautifully. Mind you, Tyke drove them about 15 times around a 1-mile loop before the parade began, to work off their excess power. At one point, King's bridle fell off, which could have been catastrophic. Yet the old trooper just kept pulling away, responding to Tyke's voice commands alone. We'd gone a fair way around the loop before we all noticed King's naked face. A quick and somewhat embarrassed scramble by Jean and Tyke to reattach horse head with bridle, and we were back on our way. The only other mishap of the afternoon was when Jean accidentally dumped her camera during the parade. We tried to find it afterwards, but considering that we had 32 cutters behind us, there wasn't much hope.
I was so successful at mimicking immoveable cargo that I've been invited to repeat my performance next Monday in the microscopic town of Bentley, Alberta. As has Fearless, whose aim is erratic but deadly.
Can I survive on one cup of coffee a day? This will mean breaking a decades-old habit of 4-5 cups. But after meeting with the nutritionist in Edmonton on Monday, it is clear that some adjustments must be made, so we'll start with the easier ones. Cutting down on coffee is going to be a dawdle compared to giving up diet cola, which I do not drink for its dietary properties, but because I love the bubbles and don't want to rot my dentition with excess sugar. And what I will do for spare change without empty cans to take to the recycling depot, I do not know.
Citizen Jane, Citizen Dog: This Saturday I'm taking the cute-but-dense dog to our first Canine Good Citizen class, which is supposed to make us bomb-proof in public. Piper is getting much less ignorant as she gets older, but I certainly wouldn't leave her unattended in a roomful of toddlers, or of people in hats. Mostly, I think, the training is for me. Dog person though I be, I can certainly use some practice on how to discipline the varmint, who responds poorly to shouting, foot-stamping, hair-tearing, and death threats.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Jane vs. The Thigh Overlord: In anticipation of the coming bike season, I'm trying to break the news gently to my leg muscles that they will soon be required to do more work than just ferrying the carcass from the refrigerator to the couch. Last night I brought home the little Bally® gizmo that (a) is supposed to create adductor and abductor muscles of sleek titanium, and (b) was on sale. The instructions were full of cautions: "Make sure you can follow the movements in the display photos before using your Bally Thigh Toner." The photos show svelte models with the gizmo clamped between both knees (adductor exercise), behind one knee (abductor exercise), and, surprisingly, between both forearms (triceps exercise). So I studied the photos to make sure I wouldn't be taking any foolish risks in my own living room. Those who know me can probably create a pretty clear mental picture of the inevitable: In an attempt to copy the behind-the-knee abductor exercise, I find it surprisingly strenuous, but contract my leg muscles in determined manner. THWANGGGG! and I have slingshotted the Thigh Bastard to the outside, where it smacks into the fireplace cover. The dog, startled, begins to bark before running over to lick my face. Apparently laughter is good for the abdominal muscle complex.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
What's the name of that list, again? You know, the list of words and phrases that must be stopped at all costs? Is it the OED or Merriam-Webster that puts it out? Because I want to put "awareness bracelets" on the list, right now. Maybe I could persuade that brilliantly wacko costume designer, Lizzy Gardiner, who created and wore a dress made entirely of American Express Gold cards at the Oscars in '95 -- to make a garment of symbolic bracelets and ribbons. And wear it symbolically. Judging by the number of the damned things out there, she'd look like a walking Pantone colour book.
My Korean origami paper just arrived in the mail, and the instruction booklet is full of joyous Korglish: "You may play it with your mom and enhance creativity, compostion [sic] ability and application ability with teacher as extend of a class." It is "Toy Used in Playing 1." And dig those crazy captions! "Though White Snow princess at [sic] a poisoned apple by a bad queen, she got out of the conjure, meeting a princess and lived happily with him. How about enjoying White Snow princess play with folding them." O rapture!
Well, I finally saw "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," and I must say that I agree with the minority consensus that this movie got fucked by AMPAS. When Jim Carrey stops playing Jim Carrey and, you know, actually acts, there's few who can best him. Besides, for sheer imagination that movie should win something. In Korglish that would be, "for absolute imaginings the Sunshine Mind will to had frequent accomplish."
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