It's Christmas!
Well, not yet, obviously but I'm flying all day tomorrow and then I'll be recovering from the fam's Christmas dinner (and the resulting hangover) and then it's Christmas!
So, this is as close as we're going to get.
I hope you all have a very fun and fabulous Christmas (and/or religious or non-religious holiday celebration of your choice) and that it's filled with delicious food, yummy drinks, amusing traditions, holiday classics and the best Christmas record of all time.
I'll leave you with a delightful seasonal poem from the very clever Andy Jackson.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Monday, December 20, 2004
Next Step: World Domination
So, there's this thing you can do when you've got a blog such as this one that invloves tracking who comes to visit you and see where they come from.
Most of my links come from Cheryl B's blog (hi people from Cheryl's blog!), and some from search sites. That is the jive that I'm usually hip to.
But, when I checked on the weekend, I noticed a new linker. Mediagirl.org. "Who is this media girl?", I thought. Being the kind of girl who gets straight down to business, I went to the website almost immediately. I may have had a diet coke inbetween the thought and the action. It was on the weekend. Who can remember?
It's a cool site for women and girls of all shapes and sizes who are involved in the media industry. Just like me! And, on the left hand side of the main page, there's a list of links. And who's on it? You'll never guess.
I'll give you a hint. It starts with M and rhymes with "smee".
It's me!
It's my first non-friend link! How delightful! I'm listed as "whimsical, serious blogging". Is that me? I suppose so. I don't really think of myself as "serious". But I like whimsical quite a lot!
I don't know how they/she found me, but hello! And send me an email or comment to let me know, cause I'm ever so curious.
So, now that I'm famous the next stop is clearly world domination. Woo hoo!
Most of my links come from Cheryl B's blog (hi people from Cheryl's blog!), and some from search sites. That is the jive that I'm usually hip to.
But, when I checked on the weekend, I noticed a new linker. Mediagirl.org. "Who is this media girl?", I thought. Being the kind of girl who gets straight down to business, I went to the website almost immediately. I may have had a diet coke inbetween the thought and the action. It was on the weekend. Who can remember?
It's a cool site for women and girls of all shapes and sizes who are involved in the media industry. Just like me! And, on the left hand side of the main page, there's a list of links. And who's on it? You'll never guess.
I'll give you a hint. It starts with M and rhymes with "smee".
It's me!
It's my first non-friend link! How delightful! I'm listed as "whimsical, serious blogging". Is that me? I suppose so. I don't really think of myself as "serious". But I like whimsical quite a lot!
I don't know how they/she found me, but hello! And send me an email or comment to let me know, cause I'm ever so curious.
So, now that I'm famous the next stop is clearly world domination. Woo hoo!
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Christmas is coming....
... and I'm so unprepared.
I have gifts still to buy which either means facing the Oxford Street hordes in the weekend before Christmas, or waiting till Christmas Eve and trying to buy them in Victoria. I don't even know what I want to buy, which makes it even more difficult.
I still haven't sent my Christmas cards, which means that they'll either be late, or really early for next year.
I still haven't sent the work Christmas cards, which means I have to do it on the sly on Monday to make sure I don't get busted. It seemed really important to order them about six weeks ago. I can't remember why that was now.
I have to do my laundry (stupid laundrette) in order to be able to pack to go home for Christmas. Of course, when I say "home" I mean my parent's home. I don't have a Canadian home anymore.
I have to try and figure out how I'm going to see thirty people in the three days I have in Toronto. I'm sure I can do it. It may be done through a drunken haze, but it will get done.
I have to move three days after I get back from Canada. Assuming that I'm "approved" by the estate agents.
Oh, and I have to pack up my flat. How long can that take? An hour? Two? Okay, three at the max.
I have to buy a timer for my heater so that my poor fishes don't freeze for the twelve days I'm not going to be in the country.
I have to make an extra set of keys so that Clare can feed my fish so that they don't starve during the twelve days I'm going to be out of the country. Cause you know what's not Christmassy? Dead fish.
Of course, I could, y'know, actually be doing things to get all this done. But I think we know that's not going to happen, don't we?
Ahh, Christmas. Good times, good times.
I have gifts still to buy which either means facing the Oxford Street hordes in the weekend before Christmas, or waiting till Christmas Eve and trying to buy them in Victoria. I don't even know what I want to buy, which makes it even more difficult.
I still haven't sent my Christmas cards, which means that they'll either be late, or really early for next year.
I still haven't sent the work Christmas cards, which means I have to do it on the sly on Monday to make sure I don't get busted. It seemed really important to order them about six weeks ago. I can't remember why that was now.
I have to do my laundry (stupid laundrette) in order to be able to pack to go home for Christmas. Of course, when I say "home" I mean my parent's home. I don't have a Canadian home anymore.
I have to try and figure out how I'm going to see thirty people in the three days I have in Toronto. I'm sure I can do it. It may be done through a drunken haze, but it will get done.
I have to move three days after I get back from Canada. Assuming that I'm "approved" by the estate agents.
Oh, and I have to pack up my flat. How long can that take? An hour? Two? Okay, three at the max.
I have to buy a timer for my heater so that my poor fishes don't freeze for the twelve days I'm not going to be in the country.
I have to make an extra set of keys so that Clare can feed my fish so that they don't starve during the twelve days I'm going to be out of the country. Cause you know what's not Christmassy? Dead fish.
Of course, I could, y'know, actually be doing things to get all this done. But I think we know that's not going to happen, don't we?
Ahh, Christmas. Good times, good times.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Fashion Avenger #2
Dear Lady I Saw At Oxford Circus The Other Day:
Hi there. I don't mean to be rude, but I just had to say something. You probably didn't notice me. I was standing beside your friend outside of Shelly's waiting for my friend. As I was browsing in the window and checking my phone to see why she was late (LATE!), you turned up to meet your friend. You did the London kiss-kiss hello and headed inside the shop. As you were going in, your friend made the following upsetting comment: "I really like your new haircut".
Now, normally this comment wouldn't be worth a second thought. People get their hair cut. Other people comment. Such is life. This was a little bit different, though.
I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but someone has to. She was lying. I know this because you had a Fe-mullet. Also known as a mullet, hockey hair or the Goderich haircut. I'm not sure what you were trying to convey with this look. I don't think it was the traditional "business up front, party in the back" attitude, because you weren't a pseudo rockin' business man in the late '80s. You were a fashionable woman of the new millennium. You know, except for your disastrous hair.
Maybe you were going for a so-hip-it-hurts kind of look. And sure, why wouldn't you? You're a hip young woman of the new millennium. The rest of your outfit? Totally cute. Only this is the thing. Your hair looks awful.
Are you in a metal band in 1987? Are you trying to recapture your childhood by getting the haircut that your mother would never let you have? Was it a dare? Is your hairdresser out to get you? Did you steal her boyfriend or burn down her house? Did you hear Do They Know It's Christmas for the millionth time and it sent you over the edge? Are you clinically insane? Did you have to sell your hair to a wig maker like Jo in Little Women to make money to support your family while your father was fighting in the Civil War, but you only sold part of it?
I really think you should do something about this. The solution is obvious. Cut the rest off. You'll have a super cute pixie cut and I won't feel the need to cry if I ever see you again in the street.
I wish you a lot of luck with this. I'm sure you'll realize the error of your ways. You just need people to stop being polite. Trust me. No one thinks it's a cute look. No one.
Good luck, and have a Merry Christmas,
Alice
Hi there. I don't mean to be rude, but I just had to say something. You probably didn't notice me. I was standing beside your friend outside of Shelly's waiting for my friend. As I was browsing in the window and checking my phone to see why she was late (LATE!), you turned up to meet your friend. You did the London kiss-kiss hello and headed inside the shop. As you were going in, your friend made the following upsetting comment: "I really like your new haircut".
Now, normally this comment wouldn't be worth a second thought. People get their hair cut. Other people comment. Such is life. This was a little bit different, though.
I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but someone has to. She was lying. I know this because you had a Fe-mullet. Also known as a mullet, hockey hair or the Goderich haircut. I'm not sure what you were trying to convey with this look. I don't think it was the traditional "business up front, party in the back" attitude, because you weren't a pseudo rockin' business man in the late '80s. You were a fashionable woman of the new millennium. You know, except for your disastrous hair.
Maybe you were going for a so-hip-it-hurts kind of look. And sure, why wouldn't you? You're a hip young woman of the new millennium. The rest of your outfit? Totally cute. Only this is the thing. Your hair looks awful.
Are you in a metal band in 1987? Are you trying to recapture your childhood by getting the haircut that your mother would never let you have? Was it a dare? Is your hairdresser out to get you? Did you steal her boyfriend or burn down her house? Did you hear Do They Know It's Christmas for the millionth time and it sent you over the edge? Are you clinically insane? Did you have to sell your hair to a wig maker like Jo in Little Women to make money to support your family while your father was fighting in the Civil War, but you only sold part of it?
I really think you should do something about this. The solution is obvious. Cut the rest off. You'll have a super cute pixie cut and I won't feel the need to cry if I ever see you again in the street.
I wish you a lot of luck with this. I'm sure you'll realize the error of your ways. You just need people to stop being polite. Trust me. No one thinks it's a cute look. No one.
Good luck, and have a Merry Christmas,
Alice
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Well, you think you're pretty special, don't you?
I saw this the other day, and I really liked it. So I thought I'd give it a go.
Now, while I don't think I'd ever use the phrase "rock my socks", I still think this is a cool idea. So, comment away!1. Reply to this post if you want me to tell you how cool you are!
2. Watch my journal over the next few days for a post just about you and why I think you rock my socks.
3. Post these instructions in your journal and give your friends a much needed dose of love and validation!
Friday, December 10, 2004
What did people do at work before they had the Internet?
I finally moved back into my office yesterday, after a two month long stint in a vaguely cubicled off area of reception-y area of our office while my office became a temporary edit suite. (It's hard to explain if you haven't seen it. You're going to have to trust me on this one.) And, as much as I loved that (or, to use a more accurate word "hated"), I finally finally finally got to move back into my office. Which was obviously a very yay! moment.
Until I realized that I'd done something to the computers when I hooked them up which rendered them useless. Well, not totally useless. I can do all my work, for example. And I can be productive. I just can't access the network at all. Or, and this is far more important, the internet. And dude! That's totally work related! I can't check my work email! I may be missing vital emails!
And, I can't use the internet for research. Vital, intensely urgent and important research that must be completed today. Sooner than that! This very second!
For instance, it seems that I urgently must find out how much I can expect to spend on the digital camera I plan on buying at Christmas. And, I have to check my hotmail. I may have many, many social engagements which need planning, or many "hilarious" chain mail forwards to read, become irritated by the sender and then delete. Or, and this is only if I'm very lucky, a few emails offering me enlargement of a body part I don't have. These must be dealt with!
What do they expect me to do here? Work?
Thankfully, the problem has been resolved. But, the scary thing is that it could happen at any time. Man, that's a frightening thought.
Until I realized that I'd done something to the computers when I hooked them up which rendered them useless. Well, not totally useless. I can do all my work, for example. And I can be productive. I just can't access the network at all. Or, and this is far more important, the internet. And dude! That's totally work related! I can't check my work email! I may be missing vital emails!
And, I can't use the internet for research. Vital, intensely urgent and important research that must be completed today. Sooner than that! This very second!
For instance, it seems that I urgently must find out how much I can expect to spend on the digital camera I plan on buying at Christmas. And, I have to check my hotmail. I may have many, many social engagements which need planning, or many "hilarious" chain mail forwards to read, become irritated by the sender and then delete. Or, and this is only if I'm very lucky, a few emails offering me enlargement of a body part I don't have. These must be dealt with!
What do they expect me to do here? Work?
Thankfully, the problem has been resolved. But, the scary thing is that it could happen at any time. Man, that's a frightening thought.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Still too busy to post....
Complain about me not posting, will you? Well, then your complaint will be the post.
(Although the actual words may be slightly altered, rest assured that the below conversation did actually take place.)
Aaron says:
By the way, I'd like to point out that it has been 3 days since you posted something on your blog telling us all that you're too busy to post. And let me tell you, my patience is wearing thin.
Alice says:
I appreciate your impatience. I will post something. When I have like THREE SECONDS TO MYSELF!
[pause]
Alice says:
I'm very busy this week. Sorry. I didn't mean to yell.
Aaron says:
That hurt my eardrums.
Alice says:
Hey, can I quote you on the blog?
[lengthy pause]
Alice says:
What, are you ignoring me now?
Aaron says:
You may.
[suspicious pause]
Aaron says:
Why... what are you going to quote?
Alice says:
You'll see. Heh heh heh.
Alice says:
Or rather, mwahhh ha ha ha!
Aaron says:
Is it my comment about 100% blowjobs?
Alice says:
No, but it will be now.
Aaron says:
Dammit.
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