Monday, November 29, 2004

Too busy to blog...

I'm just posting to say that I'm sorry for not posting lately. I've been all busy with work. Work. Whatev. I'm so over that.

I did find out today that I'm thought very highly of at the channel we're working for now, so that's nice. "Oh, if Alice is working with you, then you'll have no problems. She'll sort it out. She's good stuff". I'm paraphrasing, but that's the general gist.

Almost makes up for the fact that I was at work by 6:30 this morning. Almost.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Self Realization 101

I’ve realized something about myself. It came as a bit of a shock, but I think I’ve come to terms with it.

I may, in fact, be a little impatient. And I can, in fact, lean slightly towards the paranoid at times.

I know, I know. It came as a shock to me too.

Of course, my paranoid impatience doesn’t apply to everything. I have no problem waiting in line, or being on hold. I’m easily able to entertain myself for ages. I don’t have a real problem with horribly slow service in restaurants and I don’t really mind waiting for the bus.

But if I had to wait for a response to anything, I go a little insane. It can be anything – a returned call, a response to an email, or a reply to a text message. If any of these is even slightly delayed, I don’t just accept that things are delayed. My mind goes a bit crazy. I immediately begin thinking of all the reasons for the lack of response.

- I have done something horrible to offend the person I’m expecting to hear from without realizing it.
- She hates me.
- I broke some kind of unwritten rule by replying to his email too late, and now I’m being punished.
- I broke some kind of unwritten rule by replying to her text too soon, and now I look like a freak.
- He hates me.
- I accidentally sent the text to the wrong phone number.
- My email got sent to her junk mail folder because I’m not important to have inbox privileges.
- She hates me.

It’s at this point that I send a “safety” text to someone else. Y’know, to make sure that my phone is actually working.

Of course, invariably there is some kind of delay in their response. My mind, which you have to remember is already working in overdrive, steps up a notch and begins to reach truly frightening speeds. I go through all the reasons why I haven’t received any responses at all.

- My phone is broken.
- The internet is not working.
- I have inadvertently done something to offend all my friends.
- Everyone hates me.
- My phone isn’t broken, but my text messages aren’t getting through.
- I have entered some kind of parallel universe and although I think I’m still here, I no longer exist.
- I am invisible.
- Should I use my invisibility for good or evil?
- Wait, if I’m invisible I should still be able to operate a mobile phone.
- Okay, I’m not invisible.
- But it is likely that everyone hates me.
- What did I do?

At the point that my mind is truly spiralling out of control, my phone makes the friendly little noise that it makes when I have a text message. Or my computer makes the happy little noise that it makes when I have an email.

It seems that I have two text messages. Or two emails. Huh. Weird.

Aaaaaaaand relax.

Until next time.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004


I may have mentioned that I officially entered my late twenties last week. Well, to celebrate, I had a little party on Saturday night. A little party that I like to call the extravaGANza!

(Just so you know, when the "gan" part of that word is said, it should be accompanied by a slightly raised voice and an expansive hand gesture)

Because I can be ever so clever when I set my mind to it, I remembered to bring my camera. And, because I am sometimes not ever so clever, I don't actually appear to be in any of the photos. But, I promise. I was there.

Now, I obviously missed the action in this photo, as Bette, Buffy and Amber are clearly fascinated by something juuuuuuust to the left of the photo. But, I choose to believe that I made an artistic decision here.

At one point, the party seperated into a male/female divide. It was just like a dance in the seventh grade. The boys are just waiting for Groovy Kind Of Love to come on so that they can get the nerve to ask a girl to dance. Ooooooooh!

And, now we have the girls. Clearly anxiously awaiting the Phil Collins and the potential for feet-shuffling slow dancing. Awww, romance!

Bette made a new friend. She looks a touch tipsy. But I'm sure Tom isn't afraid. That's a look of glee on his face.

Hannah thought that Nathan looked fat in this picture. Hee. I'd also like to clarify that Sarah isn't drunk. Well, she is. But she's also jet-lagged. She flew in from Fargo, North Dakota especially for the extravaGANza!

Jet lag + red wine = the pitching of film ideas tentatively titled things like "The Adventures of Sammy the Speculum" or something very similar. In this photo, Tom is definitely afraid.

Woo hoo! Things are getting frisky now! Matt and Jenny are sharing a few little kisses. But in a purely innocent seventh grade kind of way. Get those dirty thoughts out of your head! Dirty!

Cheers! Adam and Tom are certainly looking jolly. And why wouldn't they be? It's the extravaGANza!

James looks a little bit eeeeeeevil in this photo. And I can't remember if Jess, Jamie & Madeleine were actually talking, or doing the "pretend to talk so it looks social and like everyone's having fun" thing. I think they may have been really talking. The napkins on the table were because "someone" (I'm not naming names) spilled a full pint.

And you know what they say. It's not a party until someone falls out of their chair and ends up sitting on the floor. Thanks Kobrinsky!

It was a lovely party. And I had a great time. Thanks to all of y'all that came, cause it was a really good time. (We'll ignore the nasty and mean thoughts I'm thinking about all of y'all that weren't there. Except those of you in other countries. You all have an excuse.)

Now, to plan next year!

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Everything I know, I learned from musicals

How to go crazy and live under an opera house? Phantom of the Opera
How to be a French revolutionary? Les Miserables
How to fall in love with an American GI in Vietnam? Miss Saigon
How to have prophetic dreams? Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat
How to cause trouble with a capital T & that rhymes with P & that stands for pool? The Music Man
How to manage as a blind kid in a tough world? Tommy
How to be a freaky hippie? Hair
How to string together songs with no relevance? Mama Mia
How to suck? We Will Rock You
How to be a cool aunt? Mame
How to wash that man right out of my hair? South Pacific
How to catch a man by learning to be slutty? Grease
How to be less human and more cat? Cats
How to be tough and yet dance at the same time? West Side Story
How to be a matchmaker? Fiddler on the Roof
How to be the boss of a whole country? Evita
How to sing the body electric? Fame
How to bring Western culture to Siam? The King & I
How to manage if your town sleeps for a hundred years? Brigadoon
How to be a showgirl on a floating casino? Show Boat
How to ride in a surrey with a fringe on top? Oklahoma
How to be the first Bow Street Runner? Oliver!
How to exploit the media to my advantage when in jail for murder? Chicago
How to rise out of the slums of Bombay to become a Bollywood star? Bombay Dreams
How to betray the son of God? Jesus Christ Superstar
How to lose my Cockney accent and fit in with posh people? My Fair Lady
How to manage as an HIV positive artist in New York? Rent

Seriously! It's like a "How To Live Life" manual!

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Irrational Hate #2

Clearly, everyone hates people on buses. Hating other people on public transit is part of living in a city. Chances are the person next to you is talking too loudly on their mobile, or they’re slightly smelly, or they’re crazy or they keep trying to engage you in conversation despite the fact that you’re ignoring them and have your face firmly planted in a book.

I am totally fine with all those people. They are normal bus passengers. I expect to see them, and if the woman with the screaming child isn’t on the bus with me, I find that I’m a little bit shocked. (Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying I’d prefer to have here there. I’m just saying it’s a bit of a surprise when she and her whiny brat of a kid aren’t annoying me.)

The point is, if I was that devoted to a peaceful ride, I would bankrupt myself and take taxis everywhere. Public transit is just that. Public.

It’s the other people that I hate. You know the ones.

Imagine, if you will. You’re on a crowded bus, most of the seats are filled, people are standing, it’s getting a little squishy. And there’s that one person. The one who is sitting on half of a two-seater seat. And, instead of sitting on the window side like a normal person, they’re sitting on the aisle side. Effectively blocking access to the coveted bus seat.

And, not only are they doing that, they’re also staring blankly directly ahead of them, desperately ignoring eye contact with everyone trying to gain access to the seat.

That would actually all be fine. People are annoying, I get it. And who knows? Maybe they’ve got some weird phobia about sitting next to windows. Maybe they can’t look another person in the eyes because they’re afraid of stealing souls. Really, who am I to judge?

It’s what they do after they’re politely asked to let someone slide past them to the unoccupied seat. That’s what really pisses me off. They sigh. And they roll their eyes. And they make it seem like it’s the biggest imposition of all time, ever. And poor person who just wanted to sit down is made to feel like the bad guy.

And they're not the bad guy! The seat hog is the bad guy!

I hate these people. So much that I can’t even truly express the rage I feel when I see these idiots. In fact, I’m getting all angry just talking about it. Jerks. They’re just jerks.

Now, all I need is a plan to make them pay.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Fashion Avenger #1

Dear Man I Saw On The Way To Work This Morning,

Look, I know that we don’t know each other, and I really have no business sticking my nose into your business, but there’s something pretty important that I feel I have to tell you.There’s no nice way to say this, but it’s about your jeans. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but they’re turquoise. Turquoise.

Seriously, what’s up with that?

I can kind of see how it might have happened – you’re cleaning out a wardrobe and find a pair of jeans you’ve forgotten about. You think “hey, these still fit! Great!”, and you proceed to make them a part of your wardrobe.

Now, that would be fine under normal circumstances. We’ve all done that – just the other day, I found a great black sweater that I’d forgotten about. But these are not normal circumstances. These are turquoise jeans circumstances. And, you may be shocked to find, it is not 1987. You’re not co-starring in a teen movie with Corey Haim or Emilio Estevez. You’re not in a wacky sitcom about an alien moving into your house, or a drama about being an undercover narcotics agent. You are not in the New Kids On The Block. You, sir, are no Joey MacIntyre.

You are a middle aged man. It is 2004, and you’re walking down the street at 10:30 on a Sunday morning. And you’re wearing turquoise jeans.

I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I really am. I want to believe that you’re just running to the shop to buy your girlfriend breakfast. Although, I have to believe that if you had a girlfriend, she wouldn’t let you leave the house looking like that. Or, maybe you’re colour blind. But again, someone should have some kind of colour veto on your wardrobe if that’s the case. I’m getting distracted. The point is, I want to believe that the turquoise jeans are a mistake. A one-off. That it’s something that won’t happen again.

I can’t quite convince myself, though. You looked more like you were off for a day in town, or something of the like. And if that was the case, I think you probably looked in a mirror before you left the house.

And if so, I just wanted to write to tell you that it’s not okay. I know fashion can be hard. But you don’t need to read magazines, or watch Queer Eye, or anything elaborate like that. You just need to have a little common sense.

You’ll be fine as long as you put the turquoise jeans where they belong. In the garbage. No, I know that you’re thinking. Don’t make the mistake of giving them to a charity shop. You’ll just be putting some other poor soul in the same position that you’re in right now. And if I get blinded by these jeans again on the street, I’m going to be pretty annoyed with you.

I know you can do it. Good luck.

Best wishes,


P.S. We’ll talk about the green loafers next time.

Friday, November 05, 2004

Happy birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

It's my birthday today. Yay!

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Welcome ..... to the world of Tron

Tired of the post-election stress?

Well, Kobrinsky sent me the best link ever today. And, as I'm ever so fond of y'all, I decided to share it with you.

This man is awesome.

If you're normally too lazy to click on links, trust me. This one is worth it. You'll especially want to scroll down to the bottom to hear his "lessons learned".

Tron always makes me think of Wendy and our trip to California in the summer of '93.

We went to Disneyland, and naturally tried to go on as many rides as possible. Our favourite was a somewhat unconventional choice.

The PeopleMover. Now, tragically, the PeopleMover closed for good in 1995, but thanks to the magic of the internet, you can still experience the wonder of it here.

The best bit was when you drove ever so slowly into this darkened room with lasers everywhere, and then a voice dramatically announced "Welcome .... to the world of Tron!".

I can't even truly express how fabulously horrible it was. We went on it like eight times, and took photos of ourselves on it. Good times, good times.


Well, that's just depressing isn't it?

Stupid Ohio. To think that the state that was home to WKRP in Cincinnati could let me down like this.

Nice work, Ohio. Nice work.

Oh, and nice work Minnesota, North Dakota, Idaho, Wyoming, South Dakota, Nebraska, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana, Kentucky, West Vermont, Vermont, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina and Florida. Thanks.

For some more depressing information, look here.

I don't understand American voters. 22% of voters thought that "moral values" were the most important issue in the election? And 32% of voters "strongly approve" of how Bush is handling the presidency, although 34% "strongly disapprove" of the decision to go to war in Iraq? 47% of voters were either "enthusiastic" or "satisfied" with Bush's administration?

Who are these people? America is one huge, confusing mystery to me.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Pirates, voting and food poisoning

American elections get me all stressed. I can’t ever remember feeling that way about Canadian elections, and to be honest, I’m not even sure if there’s been a British election since I’ve been here. Maybe, but I honestly have no idea.

That’s not to say that I don’t care about politics. Because I do. And I’m certainly not short of opinions. But, in Canadian politics, there’s not really ever a “bad guy”. Sure, there are parties I feel are less desirable and there are certainly parties that have done damage to Canada. But I can’t think of anyone who, in four short years, has proven himself to be scarily inept and assy. And I have a real fear about the blindness of the American voting public. Stress!

I was looking at the CNN website, but I can’t check it too often. It freaks me out a little. I don’t like being this stressed about something I have absolutely no control over.

Enter the Daily Show’s election blog. Apparently, according to their no doubt scientific information, 9% of people voting for Bush will be 17th century pirates. Awesome.


I spent the day at home today (food poisoning, long story, kind of boring), so that gave me lots of time to stress about the election. You know, the one I have absolutely no control over.

Stupid elections.

And stupid time zones. I may have to get up at 5am to check the results. Or, you know, I could sleep like a normal person. I haven't made my defcision yet.