quote of the day

"i think your handjob sobered me up."

happy something

I had to give you something new to look at.

the ghost of christmas past

i used to like christmas. i liked it when i lived in a nice house in the country, lit with a wood stove with my mom, my dad, my brother and a puppy. we endured church on christmas eve, hung out with nana and grampie a bit, then wrote a survey for santa to find out if he was real, by comparing the answers with that of the ones left for santa by our friends. we each opened a present on christmas eve. we believed in christ and santa enough to get by. anxiously, we went to bed and rose early to peek at our bounty much before the folks lifted their heads from their pillows. they acted surprised. with the smell of the wood furnace in our snouts, we began with our stockings. our gifts were opened one by one, going around in a circle-- to add to the suspense, appreciate what each other received and prolong that special christmas feeling. after the hugs and thanks, and an hour or so of trying out our few gifts, our slippered feet took us to the kitchen where dad prepared the christmas breakfast--often back bacon, scrambled eggs and toast.later in the day, we'd visit aunts, uncles and grandparents and they'd show us what santa brought them, and they'd feed us pot of gold or quality street chocolates. later, mom cooked a bird and all the obvious fixins. we'd cheerfully chow down on our noel feast, with lemon cheesecake for dessert. people would call and we'd answer the phone with a jolly "merry christmas!" my grampie and dad would sit in the livingroom and flip thru their new books. mom and nana would scramble and ramble in the kitchen the whole day thru. my brother and i would go our separate ways to mingle with our new whatevers. this, in essense, was my christmas past.

the spirits of crassmas (n)ow

i used to like christmas, but now not so much. i like hallowe'en better, and thanksgiving. these are holidays where most sane people don't buy gifts and cards and go insane. they don't involve jesus, they are more inclusive. christmas makes me edgy and poor and stressed and annoyed and sometimes a little hateful and resentful. i realize this isn't inherently christmas's fault, but our collective fault for allowing the season to grow into the cold commercial tumour that it has. who do you give gifts to? what the fuck do they like? will they even appreciate a gift i laboured to make? eventually, i mostly just capitulated, saying fuck it. i have a list, i'll check it as many times as i need to, some people will get shit, some people won't. some of it will stay in cupboards, closets, drawers and fridges, while some will be held close to hearts. this is the mysterious gamble whose oucome i'll never truly know, because everyone will play the famous, tried and true game of pretending to be happy that us 20-30 somethings are so g-d accomplished. some of us will spend christmas with our families-- and i stress the plural, as many of them are now split up. we'll be picking around carcasses that we don't eat, grains that make us puffy, food that we liked as a kid, but have since grown weary of and our parents don't pay enough attention to notice. some of us will have to work. some of us will spend christmas alone. some of us will be drunk and high. some of us will likely see the image of mary, jesus, or to shake it up just a little--joseph-- on the side of a tim hortons in sydney mines. for some of us, it will just be another day-- because we're not christian, or we don't give six, or even one shit. this christmas, i'll spend alone in my ripped-up apartment like i did last year. i'll be organizing and purging my shit, because it's a good time for it. perhaps i'll smoke or drink or make and eat enough cookies and soynog to make me vomit. i'll listen to norwegian black metal. i'll make tea and read. this is my christmas. it should be chill.

the possibility of christmas-not-so-awful

someone who helped me see the vestiges of what i can still muster up to emjoy about christmas, is a man named Carson Williams. He's the dude who rigged up $10 000US worth of christmas lights and synched it perfectly with a couple of christmas tunes, including one by my new pals, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. it's easily the coolest display of christmas lights i've ever seen (sorry, dad good try). it makes me giddy and hopeful. it helped that the TSO are metlin' and stuff, but seriously, Carson Williams is the shit. we've watched this 20 or so times at the house. i get just as excited every time. later, i found that Williams had to dismantle his whole amazing project because the traffic near his house was so thick, that when a car accident occurred, the police couldn't get to the scene. as cool his popularity sounds, Williams vowed to his neighbours that if anything fishy went down, he'd stop immediately-- which he totally did. He and his family make me happy just to look at them. what an agreeable fellow. what an ambitious fellow. this is what the christmas spirit is about-- making peopel forget about the pile of shit we've created that is christmas, and recall the days of christmas past when it wasn't half fucking bad-- even endurable. perhaps christmas was never endurable-- it's just that i was younger, more naive. regardless, Carson Williams inspired me take a step back and have a little toke before i got all up in arms about all the shit i needed to do. if you haven't seen his marvelous, spectacular, phenomental work, please, please check it out here and here. before (or after-- whatev) you get all hatey about christmas, look at the pic of Williams and his family, check out his mad, mad skills and realize that christmas can be something other than nauseating commercial-driven sluttery, that it can even be funny.

worst. dessert. ever.

dear the westin,

worst. dessert. ever.
nobody ate it.
here's two facts about banana brulée:
1) it's spelled brulée, not brule.
2) it doesn't consist of three slices of banana, three blueberries and a fuckload of melon in some shitty sugar juice soup. burnt pieces of sugar are only okay in small amounts, and best when caramelized, not actually burnt.
also, the tofu tasted like fish. edamame are not seedlings. don't offer a dish with cheese and cream and say it can be vegan and then not be able to deliver. fuck you. the service was decent-- thanks for hooking the team up with shooters even tho we were supposed to only have two drinks apiece.

love,
beany

mother fucker

i can't digest anything.

smoke someone with a snowball because it's funny

my mind this morning was burgeoning with hate and resentment and self-depricating thoughts-- but my brother's done his exams for a few days so we went to rassy's to get treats and he got blitzed and i tried only to get into 'er a little and basically i got myself incapacitated and unable to do the work i needed to do but somehow managed to make this wrap (this is it before i wrapped it up)-- it's a kamut wrap with veganaise and pesto and garlic shitake tofu and kalamata olives and sunflower sprouts with pickled ginger on the side this was so ridiculously perfect and now i've done my work and bought some pretty paper and walked in the snow aflufffluff and am home and have just enjoyed a glass o' whisky and am ready to be toasty and bundled as i fuck around on this fine december eve.

gum and nuts: together at last

if you've never eaten gum and nuts together, here's an idea of what it looks like. the question is, is gum compostable? thanks to sweetness for volunteering for this highly important experiment. thanks also to the now sadly defunct persian bazaar for creating (or supplying) sweet mix, the biggest gem in the world of mixed fruit and nuts. my period will miss you desperately.

...and on the night the snow first fell, the bough broke-- for the last time

... but overall it was an amazing effin' time. thanks to the legacy of che guevera for starting it all, and to johnny and june for helping us realize the proper end.

...and the third day of the month was mostly this

i got up at 8:20 and CRM and i bought crüe tickets online which was cooler and more efficient than standing out for them or going to superstore and then we went to the market and to a few shops and ran into em and caught up with professor and i came home and relaxed with scents and books and tea and warmth and i made bars and we made sushi at 11:30 and ate it now i'm off to bed (soon).

i have no erection for this election

i've thus far kept my opinions to myself about the upcoming federal election. someday i'll give it to you. in the meantime, check out fellow pal bloggers and their campaign coverage: here, here and here. oh, and by the way, it's a big waste of fucking money-- that's all i'll say for now. later, i'll back up that bold statement.

fun to read but not to do

one thing that it's funny that i do is read about doing things instead of just doing them. i read about starting a business, meditating, doing yoga, practising witchcraft, cleaning my house, and even about getting things done-- but i pretty much never do these things: it's easier read than done.

happy new month!

holy shit-- it's decembrrrrr.

today is going to be a good day.

today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day.vtoday is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day. today is going to be a good day.today is going to be a good day.

sometimes i get up

hmm fucking mmm. people often get sick of halifax and complain about it. i tell them to move out or suck it up. i love this city. i can be out in it or in and it doesn't matter much. i'm (so) high and listening to something bizarre and i just returned from the northend pub and have lots of unrealated ideas and sometimes i'm happy enough to smile about them and read about them and clean my room and bake a pie and wash my clothes and dishes and face in celebration of being alive, and well, sometimes i don't want to get out of bed.

a better waste of time

this shit has a lot more than the average time-wasting quiz. check it.


My Inner Hero - Wizard!





There are many types of magic, but all require a sharp mind and a cool head. There is no puzzle I can't solve, no problem I can't think my way out of. When you feel confused or uncertain, you can always rely on me to untangle the knots and put everything back in order for you.



How about you? Click here to find your own inner hero.

thank you, poland. thank you, montreal.

poland, thank you for letting behemoth come to visit. i'm glad i stuck it out and went to the show. i'm glad i went up front so i could see the textures of their boots, clothes, sweat, hair, gauntlets, pentacles, belt buckles, guitars and imagine what they felt like. i could feel the spirit of polish metal. i could see that you liked us tonight, behemoth. thanks, also to necronomicon from montreal. they were also well-dressed and came complete with shiny, luscious hair. yes, i was listening to the music, i just happened to notice their boots and shit. hot stuff, halifax. we are so lucky to have cool bands come every once in a while. phemom.

Take the What High School
Stereotype Are You? quiz.

sorry, pigeons-- this epidemic will all be over soon

i thought the avian flu was like SARS. i thought it was all media hype and old moribund people dying. no such luck. according to both news reports and a hot blond homeopath, avian flu kills the young and healthy-- yes, 20-30 year olds with strong immune systems. will i be knocked out for trying to take care of myself? possibly. should i worry? no. i'll just stop making out with pigeons.

suggestions for post-orgasmic operations

allow me to suggest here and now that it's not a good idea to rush off to a seminar or business meeting immediately after a particularly strong orgasm (particularly so if you've had two or so others in the last twelve hours). it could (and this is entirely speculation, of course) cause you to be jittery and/or shaky, dry-mouthed, spacy and flushed. if you had to introduce yourself and tell the group about your business just as you were sitting down-- arriving late of course-- you could feel as though you'd rather hide under the table or vomit or eat a piece of cake or at least share with the group why you're all aflustered: but of course, you can't. anyway, at least have a cup of tea before you leave the house-- and don't stash your rescue remedy in such a stupid place-- in theory, of course. this is just one of the many things you shouldn't try immediatly following an orgasm. allow me to list a few other poor post-orgasm moves:

1) sealing a deal like a contract, internet puchase, marriage proposal or anything slightly official

2) agreeing to get up and get anything from another room, either for yourself or someone else

3) teaching a cursive writing class

4) talking to your mom

5) anything not involving just fucking lying there

mount my poll

please note the poll on the sidebar and votey vote vote. thanks/merci.

....something that is foul.

we are the worst.

seven things about now and around now

a) i'm bored of my own blog because i don't post enough.
b) it snowed a few minutes ago, but i was lying in bed and missed it.
c) i'm the laziest businessperson alive.
d) i won $20 on a scratch ticket yesterday (crossword, of course), so went out for sushi and a peanut butter ball.
e) i had the shittiest sleep last night because the house was a hub of activity after 3:20 pm (three phone calls and three extra people, all drunk and yelling. i had to get up in two hours to work. i couldn't make it.
f) my dreams were about boring things like breakfast and the contents of my bedroom.
g) this is for the Gs and this is for the homies. this is for the homies, now back to the Gs.

open up and say CAW!

this morning the sky is like sky-colour that's been washed out a few times like a dirty mouth. the leaves on the tree outside my bathroom window are falling ill and scronky. outside, the scent of moribund nature trills past my nose, as my nipples enjoy the stiffness. it's production time in my house, and i'm up, fittingly, with the crows to (w)rap shit up-- but not before drinking the most killer tea that ever there was. again, i love you, yerba mate. i mean love like i'd-want-to-have-your-babies-if-you-weren't-a-plant love. if anyone wants to try some, come to my house: you can have a cup with a crow.

moonspell: make me breakfast

i like exploring metal from different countries. today it's portugese metal. they sound like they have blood and rocks chocolate in their mouths and sing like they want to fuck me. they win. i bet their lair would have skulls and red satin sheets and old horror movie memorabilia. oh, moonspell: kiss my neck and make me breakfast (i'd like vegan oat pancakes-- i can provide the real cumberland county maple syrup. also, some vanilla soymilk would be choice-- please add kahlua.)

beany's first northend trick or treat

as this was my first hallowe'en in the north end, i had a hypothesis about how trick or treating would go at my house, but no word from my neighbours on how it's gone in the past.my prediction rang true with our house being assaulted by gangs of kids, but i had the age bracket way wrong. i expected a bunch of hood kids sans parents, running around being all mayhemy. instead, i got 30 mothers with strollers, and orange treat bags on the end of a stick like a butterfly net, each with their requisite three children, saying trick or treat i like your costume you must be going downtown later and running away as quickly as they'd come. no dawdling for these moms. other highlights were the 35 year-old woman oh-so-sketchily dressed as what looked to be robin hood, alone, saying trick or treat without hardly looking at us and running off as quickly as she came, pillowcase in hand; and the scraggily man out to watch the kids, informing us about halifax wiccan celebrations (although he converted to buddhism long ago), telling us hallowe'en jokes and making sure we knew (for the little kids we might know) that robertmunsch.com has downloadable stories, and that "i have to go" has alternate endings, depending on which size book (big or small) that you read.

my period asks (and answers) three questions:

1) what was the most popular costume in your hood?

the most popular hallowe'en costume by far was (oddly) a lion costume.

2) what did you give out as treats?

my period offered fruit leathers (aka unsweetened and untrashy fruit rollups that don't really roll up), sesame snaps (ok, they were mostly there so i could eat them-- and em took some), optimum zen cereal, and comics (mostly older than old firestorm issues) at the door.

3) what was your freakiest hallowe'en moment?

the freakiest moment was probably after dilem, my brother, maven and i all got blitzed off the sea monkey bong and the doorbell rang, as we hadn't brought the jacko inside. i rushed down, reeking of pot, with my wings off, to hand out treats. the mom asked if i was a bat, which was a good guess, because i was. my brother and dilem suggested that i looked like a "whore with pig ears" which wasn't far off. when i got back upstairs, i didn't remember what the kids were dressed as, but i did remember that they were girls. we promptly brought the jack-o'lantern inside to avoid anymore supreme freakouts.

Halifax Hallowe'eny Police Report

In Cole Harbour, fire crews responded earlier in the evening to a reported brush fire. Firefighters ran a few hoses into the bush but it turned out to be an out of control bonfire that was quickly knocked down.

Police were also busy dealing with a fracas at Dalhousie University where a group of teenagers allegedly antagonized some students.

The taunting turned to violence, according to a witness, when one young person clubbed a student in the face with a bottle and another hit a student with a wrench.

A crowd of students subdued four of the attackers and police arrived a short time later to take the young people into custody shortly after 8 p.m.

The extent of injuries the victims suffered was not immediately known.

At about the same time, an assailant dressed as Santa Claus and an accomplice wearing green overalls and a Jason goalie mask barged into a Charles Street home.

One attacker stabbed at a man inside the home. He suffered a small, superficial wound, according to Staff Sgt. Don Fox of Halifax Regional Police.

The intruders fled and police continue to investigate.

An RCMP officer was slightly injured when a passing car clipped him during a traffic stop.

A female driver apparently did not see the constable as he spoke with the driver of a car he had pulled over in the area of 1715 St. Margarets Bay Rd. in Timberlea. The officer suffered a minor elbow injury, police said.

** In unreported news, firefighters were called to the corner of Cunard at Maynard where someone had set fire to a bag of garbage at the curb (and where the police were called for domestic violence on Christmas morning). Fortunately, the inhabitants managed to extinguish the fire with pans of water before the officials in shiny red arrived on the scene.

bean-o-lantern

boo.
mave, thanks for the o'lantern.

worst. hallowe'en. participation. ever.

i can count on one person for Hallowe'en adventures-- but i didn't even take him up on it. my hallowe'en energy had soared too low my this point. hallowe'en is my favourite. it always has been. it's dark and spooky and ridiculous and people get wack and i feel comfortable because it's my time. this year, after resigning to the idea of not making a corpse bride costume, i ended up making a bat costume which was fucking killer. professor fry helped me, ok, made the ears for me, in what turned out to be the personality of the costume-- the light spot shining through darkness. i was set to go to stage nine and nobody wanted to go. some were too sick (it's hallowe'en-- plan for health). the gothiest of the goth didn't have a costume this year (no excuse, it's your christmas, man). some didn't have enough money (borrow from your mom, it's halloween). others too much schoolwork (i will help you with your schoolwork). everybody: not enough planning. i suppose i could've gone out myself, but it made me sad not to be with my ghouls. i opted for a a few photoshoots, where professor captured the dark soul of my bat costume. at least it was well documented, whether i got to dance in it or not. li'l j did call me to go out, but i was too sober and bummed to go at one a.m.
memo to everyone: next year SUCK IT UP AND TRY HARDER or don't talk about hallow'en as if you care.
anyone want to goth night for dancing tonight? try to win your dark back?
my period kind of apologizes for the harshness, but your nonparticipating nature really got me down.

Z O M B I E P U M P K I N S!

check. this. shit. out.you can pay as little as $5 to download one of these stencils. bootastique!

vay-kay-shun? hot: so hot!

i'm on vacation. vacation. fucking vacation! i've not taken an actual week's vacation in more than two years. it's so hot i'm dancing. the first three days were pure fucking lazorama. today i got up (relatively) early to make a batch of bars, as much because i wanted to eat them as that they're long sold out (i'm totally eating one right now). the saddest news is that we're totally out of soymilk which seems like it'd never happen-- but it totally does-- oh wait! i have backup!..it's not amazing. it's expired, but it'll have to do... so the last few days has brought a bunch of little amazing events. tuesday lucia and i went to value village where in five minutes i found a cool batman mask which i was going to render. in a move that wasn't terribly signature, i lost it somewhere between the store and the car. i suck. anyway, i also got some rad warm red kneesocks. stopping my to the allan street kitchen, mat gave me an old man luedecke cd and it's exactly what i needed. thanks. so i came home and listened to it and drank cup after cup of tea while and read while it pissed and i mean pissed rain outside and i had warm socks on and lots of asweaters and afghans and quilts and i was perfectly warm and this is the day of my dreams it was so fucking perfect i almost came on my book. yesterday my parents came and i was in a quiet mood and we picked my brother up at school and ran around looking for a place to eat and we ended up at mexico lindo after a gillion minutes of driving and me changing my mind about the instinct i had that this or that resto's food might be too oily or some other shit. came home, was a little pissy. drank a drinkydrink left on the table from the night before and headed again to the allan street kitchen to be interviewed on everyone's favourite vegan baking (radio) show let's get baked with mat and dave, about having a healthy halloween. the episode should be on tonight (from 5-6pm), and it's CKDU funding drive time, $o pledge you motherfucker$! made supper of leftover baked squash in fried tofu and split pea soup and headed to rosie's to check out the shirt he screened. it's hot and soon everyone can wear my bar's emblem on their chest. then to egg's to drill a hole in our sea monkey aquarium so we can make a bong from it. i will post more about this soon. other excellent highlights of my vacation: me doing shit-all until now and that's why i'm procrastinating. and we watched some crazyass stephen hawking stuff and a few choice simpsons episodes. also, i ate a good chunk of a loaf of kamut bread that tastes like white bread but feels like kamut bread because it is. also, my lovely aunt gloria and uncle jack, the lovely folks who keep me in constant supply of sweet sweet maple syrup, sent down a kohlrabi as big as my head or bigger, like 5 enormous squash and a fuckload of potatoes, carrots and pears. they're totally unsprayed pieces of awesome, grown with love and weeded in part by child labourers (grandchilren). thanks, aunt g and uncle j! more soon. more later. more sooner or later.

soymilk, soymilk in my fridge-- how many soymilks do you wish?

a funny thing happened last night. we were baked, watching a flick and eating cookies when i pleaded with my brother to refill my glass of soymilk. when finally he agreed, he yelled from the kitchen, "pink, blue or green?" i realized that not only did we have three varieties of so nice soymilk (unsweetened, original and vanilla, respectively), but that we also had a carton of vanilla edensoy and minutes before we'd drained a carton of silk original. we had, at one point in the evening, five varieties of soymilk in the fridge. but i think we can top that-- we didn't even have chocolate or strawberry (or mocha, or cappucino, or green tea...)

try tellin' THAT to my baby!

Wanna see the most saccharine video ever (whose set and characters were constructed entirely from penny candy, vegan marshmallows and ruth minnikin's eyelashes)? Fucking check it-- from my pals The Heavy Blinkers (now ambiguously known as HB3 or, the Heavy Blinkers Trio), my period brings you "Try Tellin' That to My Baby." I'd show you a screen shot, but I want it to be pure surprise. Now go brush your teeth before they rot!

me today-- but i have tits (but not photoshop)

full moon foulness

i knew it was a full moon when:
-i was called an hour after i should've been at work to see why i wasn't at work, and it was because i was sleeping.
-my brother and i were total fucks to each other this morning.
-i was a total bitch sass to every customer all day.
-i was as inefficient as possible.
-i lost a chunk of my tooth (a leftover baby tooth!) while eating and it's sharp as fuck and i don't have a health plan.
-lots of other shit that i won't get into.

the blood on your period

why the fuck don't women know enough about their periods? browsing through the last 100 hits on my period, i realized that 9 queries were directly relating to one's period, and the other--a more common search string, is regarding fucking girls on there (sic) period. check my stats:

	Num	Perc.	Search Term
	8	61.54%	my period
	1	7.69%	paper mache bowels
	1	7.69%	about my period
	1	7.69%	sluts: the documentary
	1	7.69%	papermache recipe
	1	7.69%	fucking girls on there period
	13	100.00%

so, maybe i should give the readers a little primer on periods, since all y'all seem to have a lot of christly questions about it. i mean seriously-- do you not know what a period is? what kind of general query is "my period"? perhaps they were all looking for my world-famous blog, but i pretty much doubt it.


1. your period is the red blood that runs from your vag about once a month. all the other weird shit is called PMS.

2. your period is actually called menstruation, but we like to say the curse, on the rag, aunt flo, hemorrhaging, weeping womb, the monthlies, having your pixies, losing my lining, making vampire teabags, plum pudding, leak week, my ovaries are eating my intestines, blow job days, seducing the vampire, rebooting the ovarian operating system, falling to the communists, the bleedies, shark week, making pink lemonade, red snow, suffocating little white mice, black towel time, or arts and crafts week in panties land.

3. women's periods, lasting on average about 28 days, are (not coincidentally) the same length as lunar cycles. good witches and hippies menstruate in perfect synchronicity with moon.

4. only us hens get a period.

5. mostly it sucks.

6. period sex can be great fun, and people often look for clips of it online (and get directed--quite frustratingly to be sure--to this site).

7. it's funny when women get their periods when they're not expecting them (when it's not you).

8. you can even have your period when you're pregnant.

9. eggs are chicken periods.

10. be careful, menstruating women often get eaten by sharks and bears.

p.s. these folks also know a thing or two about bleeding.

p.p.s. a) i'm glad i could come of some assistance to the bloke who was searching for paper mache bowels--altho i'm most certain (s)he was looking for bowls. b) horns to msn.com for listing us as its #1 query for "my period" and to webcrawler for listing us as #6! c) eff you, google, for not listing us in the 15 pages i looked thru before i gave up. oh, and if anyone knows of any search engines besides the five that i'm probably thinking of, please let me know where my period comes up, if you've got a mo'. thanks in advance.

love, beany

calling in sick, because i am and because i can and because i deserve to

i'm sneezing. my urethra is stinging. i'm drinking dandelion tea. i've taken lots of supplements. nothing is soothing except for touching myself, and then it gets worse when i stop. pretty. fucking. annoying. first i'm chilled. now i'm sweating. i actually started off to work this morning and got half way across the commons, only stopping to punch myself in a the vag a couple of times. i was wearing a pretty velvet and lace skirt, knee high socks and mary janes. i dressed cute because i felt horrific. such is what i do. after much i came home, called in late and thought i'd draw myself a vinegary bath, but my tub is vile. the fucker won't drain. so here i sit, having just deliberated over calling in sick. figured i might as well, as i generally have too much pride to call in sick because i like to be strong, despite a bowel disease. i realize i have sick days and i've worked when feeling moribund and the company profits from my pride, so today i say fuck that noise-- i'm staying home to nurse my rampant and forceful sneezing, burning urethra and alternating chills and hots. the best part is, my manager, who does read my blog, lost her internet connection, so she won't see this until way later. har.

lick it, like it

alice in teepee land

i'm back from the beach. things aren't so bad. lots of rain. lots of board (bored?) games. reading. finishing my fast. here's something cool.

autumn and falling, ought um--i fell

i'm about to fall in and i've already fallen in and it pained so much to fall like when on the icy driveway i skinned my knees and ripped my pleather pants when i was 10 i still have the scar and i'll still have this one for a fucking while but also i'll have the shiny times but this seems so desperate and you can see into my wound and it's only because i've been astray and feel i should show my face yet this is all i can say i fucking suck at lying i'm doing ok you could see thru that well mostly ok altho i want my skin ripped off and my organs out thru my mouth and if it weren't violent i'd shoot every car and asshole SUV and motorbike that drove by not the drivers or passengers just the vehicle and i'd throw every hammer that banged and every siren and alarm that interrupted my melancholy and i wish i were in the country or at the lake and not alone i'm not so good with alone maybe because a stork dropped me off on a doorstep i think i like alone yet it's as scary as aliens and i'm lucky i'm cleansing or it'd be whisky and chocolate and the nasty all around but none of those only crows and saline nonsense and being in the embrace of the green goddess and actually feeling it and feeling soft and warm then cool when it lasted too long i don't want to go to the sea for once i'd rather rock out with my clit in because germany only comes twice in two years but never again i will leave anyway and take a shitty smile with me and probably fucking hate it altho at least my mom will be happy for another day and i will be even sadder for a few that succeed i'm glad this year isn't last year except maybe i'm not sure altho i wish fuck i have no idea i just wish i had maté and a paté sandwich and a ginger cookie and Soymilk and a warm hug in an inappropriate way that ironed itself out in appropriateness or was in fucking theoryland or some less-shit place where we could be better and i would shut the fuck up do you like inside me do you like what you see i will be okay just not quite just yet.

my blogger is itchy

i promise-- very soon. lots of shit to say. my blog stats are down. i dreampt about writing a song about pears, and screaming and crying at/in front of george bush to stop the nonsensical war. i don't think i persuaded him, but he gave me a hug as if he understood. as. fucking. if.

can i watch while you cleanse yourself?

tune in soon for coverage of my cleanse. i'm on day four, so they're all be some retroblogging, but lot sof bloggage of unblockage coming soon.

sluts among us!

bremily went to see slut and sluts, two documentary (relatively) shorts as part of the film fest. it was awesome, because we're kind of both sluts. we laughed knowingly several times at different definitions. slut, as both films suggested, is a difficult word to describe. this crappy princeton university dictionary (not my favourite source-- the canadian oxford english dictionary-- but i'm such a slut, i can't find mine in all this mess) suggests:

slut

n 1: a dirty untidy woman [syn: slattern, slovenly woman, trollop] 2: a woman adulterer [syn: adulteress, fornicatress, hussy, jade, loose woman, strumpet, trollop]

so i'm definitely good to go on the dirty, untidy woman part. i've also been an adulterer at one time or another. i like the term fornicatress-- it sounds prettier. anyway, i'm a slut, or at least slutty, i've broken a handful of slut rules, but basically, i just like to do it. so call me a slut (you know i like it)-- just not in a drastic way. in junior high, i was called a slut for wearing black nail polish. in high school because i wore a t-shirt as a dress. now i'm only called slut in the bedroom or in the mirror. i don't mind being slutty, if it means i can wear short skirts or that i can show you my tits. i don't mind being slutty, as long as it's on my own terms. i use the word slut probably ten times per day. i call everything and everyone a slut-- from a pesky pricing gun to anyone with who i'm even slightly enraged. i use it a a cuss word, although attempt to consider my company before shouting it out. slut! slut! slut! are you a slut?

metal: you either get it, or you don't

i paid twice to see a metal documentary and i don't even care. metal: a headbanger's journey was so fucking worth the extra cash. sam dunn tells his life's story concerning metal, exploring themes such as religion, gender while touching on roots, history and exploring subgenres.sam dunn, the filmmaker, is an anthriopologist and i'm glad to see him using anthropology for metallic purposes. i should be doing it. perhaps he could use someone to feed him sandwiches or make his bed. sam's film made me smile, shiver, shake, get hot, wonder, lose my voice, cackle, tingle, choke up, nod, headbang, reminisce, tap my feet, feel proud, do a lot of introspection, and give him my "i'm fucking metal" button. he suggested that when one loses their inner 15 year-old, then metal no longer makes sense. i'm inclined to agree, as it's something no metal fan i know has shirked. metal spoke to me the first time i heard it-- hearing random metal on cbc radio and wishing i was a rock star, making a flying v-esque guitar from a piece of chipboard, and a headband from an old underwear elastic. my first exposure to a specific band was a glam metal one: poison in grade seven, upon recommendation from my boyfriend. it saved me from my wussy rap phase (not that rap is wussy, but wussy rap). my next source of metal was my best friend's older brother, who was basically into ac/dc, motorhead and metallica. i got a couple of tapes from him, and laid listening to them in bed with the lights off thinking about my horrible life, allowing metal to cover me in a warm dark cloak, letting me know there were others (who read metal edge magazine) who were just as shittily off as me. and then ozzy (who i hated for a week -- and one week only). soon metallica took me through high school, then white zombie and black sabbath and slayer and and and and... i painted ( i mean my mom painted) my room black and i liked boys with long hair and mom asked me why i didn't like things that other girls liked and if my poems meant i was going to kill myself and i'd finally found a genre of music that spoke to my nonconformity and dark leanings. i've not looked back. it's pretty much metal for life. it's just proggier, darker, more bizarre and closer to europe. as sam mentioned in the film, he's never met anyone who liked slayer "for a summer." it doesn't really work that way. you like metal and you have friends who like metal and if you see a dude on the street who likes metal you can nod or want to nod or you know inside that a nod was implied. metal crowds are my favourite, because they're kind and polite. it's the fucking pop crowd who're assholes. not so much the local indie pop crowd, but the kids who come out to see whoever's on the cover of the coast. those kids can suck eggs and eat shit and get drunk on someone else's watch. i could say a thousand words, i could keep metlin' 'til we're black sabbath in the face-- but it's for me to know, and for you to find out: metal just is.

12 million pus cells per glass- enjoy!

seriously. 12 million, drink up, suckas!

got hate?

this morning's most tarnished moment: i was listening to beethoven's extraordinary "ode to joy" and what kept creeping into my head was the dairy board's pathetic but obviously effective, "drink milk, love life" ad capaign which not only is insulting to beethoven and the history of music because they used his song while putting whorish lyrics to his work, but embarassing and sickening to me that i've somehow along the lines associated "ode to joy" with fucking milk of all things. what assholes. how hard up they must be! how scared-- and so they should be, because soyMILK is taking effin' over!

search til you can't search no more!

what is UP with blogger picking thru everyone's shit and hilighting certain words within my blog, and when clicked, taking you automatically to a relevant(?) result? this takes away from the aesthetic and freedom of blogging. it's not as if a) we don't know how to use google or b) google's not in a toolbar at the top of i) out internet browser and ii) each blogger page or c) want to have our search results chosen for us. what the christ is up with this? thanks, blogger, for providing a free blogging service, but seriously-- what the fuck is up? it's ugly and offensive. i totally have to run, but i needed a 30 second vent.

au rev...

(i'm probably leaving the county, hence no updates for a few days. sorry, dirty.)

rubber bracelet? you brought her!

i've hated those rubber bracelets since the beginning when my boyfriend bought one home and i razzed him because it was for cancer research and it only goes to meds not to prevention and he had no idea and the colours started spreading like disease and soon everyone had ten and they didn't know what they were for and if you didn't have one you don't care about diseases or if you did have them you were a trend pimp and my father had one and they sell them at dollars stores and rogers has them even the same colours as other diseases and they're a waste of fucking rubber and there's nothing i hate more than people collecting causes and feeling freakly because they're wearing yellow and i didn't even know where to get one if i wanted one which i didn't and i was hoping i'd never have to find out until today a friend of mine 12 years old gives me one for the disease we share and i acted excited and relay to her mother the controversy but hate them and feel i have to wear this indigo beast so i'll keep it at work and slip it on when i see them i feel dirty when i wear it i had it on for an hour i feel like a whore you can't cure my disease with pills but also not with samosas.

i am my own scheiss messiah

killer. bought three cds: :wumpscut:-blutkind, carcass-heartwork, hanzel and gretyl- scheiss messiah. it's been so long since i'd bought anything. i check out two books from the library- the botany of desire by michael pollan and acquainted with the night by chrisropher dewdney. on hold for me were the first seasons of degrassi the next generation and the second season of three's company. i also picked up exclaim!, a continuing learning catalog and the atlantic film festival guide. i got an order for ten bars today. i had an epiphany. i did my laundry. i made two really fucking good meals: (for breakfast i ate my own profits), lunch: chickpeas sauteed with onions and a zucchini that we grew ourselves, seasoned with cumin, coriander, curry, turmeric, bragg's and lime. for supper: a bbqd veggie burger with kraut and ketchup in a kamut wrap with steamed kale and onions seasoned with nutritional yeast, flax oil, bragg's and pumpkin seeds. with CRM, i enjoyed dio mio sorbetto and soy gelato: lemon and chocolate respectively. i also spoke french with my brother on the way to la blanchisserie. got the surprise of my life. read my journals from last autumn and laughed at its fuckededness. i concerned myself with the attitudes of others and then i realized i had my own shit to think about. shit is fine today: so fucking fine.

p.s. i hope shit's also fine with you.

a bonafide mummified mummy

an egyptian mummy, all uncovered and whatnot. i wish i could've seen a mummy like this yesterday. aren't i a greedy girl? i see one mummy and i want more.

c'mon and mummify me!

i returned from the valley because i had promised my customers i'd deliver today and to see c'mon at the pavillion. somehow i missed another c'mon show. i fucked up and got the date wrong, or the motherfuckers changed it. being too lazy to make with the goods last night, i redeemed the day by seeing a mummy. my brother and josie invited me to the art gallery to see christo's work (yeah, mostly nope) and we realized that the art of the ancient world exhibit was also on. mummies are fascinating! lots of cool ancient shit, some 6000 years old. six thousand. s-i-x t-h-o-u-s-a-n-d! unfuckingbelievable. that ancient greeks, romans and egyptians bothered to craft such remarkable works floored me. "ok, honey, you need a tiny pot for your perfume? let's see, i have a pyramid to built by friday, but i think i can fit in engraving an intricate scene on your perfume pot while you grind the kamut for supper. whaddaya say?" seriously. i realize they didn't have a lot of choice. our things are such shit. if something we have is pretty, it's generally a copy of a copy of a copy manufactured at some stupid christly factory or it's crafted by a talented, caring artist and i often can't afford to have it. i believe pieces created by small artisans are worth purchasing, but at this stage, i can mostly only afford to buy something utilitarian, manufactured and made without a care. anyway, back to the mummy. i was teeming with anticipation of seeing the mummy and finally we came upon it. first, the inner case. it was made from a paper-mache-like substance and fitted around the body of pennu, now mummified. it was so incredible to know that i was staring at a mummified body that was over 3000 years old. you could make out the indent of her kneecaps. the case was decorated so ornately with lots of scenes and shit, assumedly representing her life. the bottoms of her feet had a bull painted on them. this bull carried the soul into the afterlife. pretty. fucking. cool. i just stared at her for a while and got lost. christ. then i made myself look around a little more, althogh my thoughts were with pennu. i did manage to become fascinated with four urn-like jars, two (which ones!?) of which still housed the extracted organs (bowels, stomach, lungs) from a mummy. a mummy's brain is discarded, which seems so fucked considering the egyptians took so much care to preserve the head. hmm... anyway, pennu's outer case was pretty fly too. after seeing her, i couldn't concentrate on anything else and the pottery exhibit we for some reason bothered to check out afterward was laughable and ho-hummy by comparison. ooohhh, those cups are from the 16th century, how old! whatever-- i just saw a MUMMY! i must say, i was tempted to ruin history and attempt to jump thru the glass and try to pry pennu's papermache coat off, but i knew i wouldn't get far. the jailtime would probably be worth touching a mummy before anyone else. it would beat buying a metallica album at midnight on the release date or even coming across a copy months before its release. it would be the coolest thing ever. but then i'd probably regret, or at least feel bad for, ruining history.

p.s. i've changed my mind. move over cremation, i'm gonna be mummified. my embalmer gets to wear a cool anubis helmet mask. any takers?

maven is bravin' it

here you can barely see maven atop the cliff ready to jump. it's because it's so fucking far that it's difficult to see him. he's brave. note the tag which reads, "michael jackson is the man." how true.

the valley of good times

it was maven's birthday yesterday, so he took me to do two things i'd never done. it seemed like my birthday, but really he just wanted me to do these things with him. he's swell to think i'm so swell. so, the first event took place before the birthday party. i was to bring a swimsuit--- specifically the skimpy silver bikini that my tits have all but grown out of. so i did. we stopped and asked a kind hick for specific directions, as the entrance he once knew isn't for use anymore. the hick's directions, "...and just go up two houses dere, and you'll see a gate. you kin jus' pa'k theh an' wok frum dere," were good ones. our trek through the mossy woods were fun and bright. not too treesy, i didn't have branches all in my face. when we first came upon water, i was fucking floored. it was gorgeous and shimmery and unlike anything i'd seen before. i started overreacting when mav showed me a thick rope on which we could swing into the water far below. i was all like "i hope you don't think i'm gonna fucking swing on that rope, cause i'm not gonna and i hope even more that it doesn't ruin your day that i'm a pussy because it's your birthday and all, and i..." and i was cut off by maven saying of course he wasn't, that we were just here for the pretty sights, and perhaps a dip and whatever else we got up to. we kept a-walking. by this time i'd figured it was a place that he'd talked about in the past, "three pools". this place was inredible. three waterfalls and three pools and lots of rocks and trees. we laid in the sun on the rocks and waited for the sun to pass over the last pool, into which is, supposedly!, a common place to jump. mav showed me the two main spots to jump from, and even though i was absolutely frightened, i decided that jumping from a cliff was the best way to get wet. holy FUCK it was high. i'm not sure how many feet, and although almost 20 feet doesn't sound too high, picture a jagged rock cliff right next to a deafening waterfall. i guess i'm not scared of heights as long as i don't have to jump from them. mav effortlessly went first to show me how it was done. i hummed and hawed and shook and screamed and when i finally jumped, it was pretty effin' cool. it was as if i were plunging to my death, as if i'd keep dropping underwater and meet both poseidon and hades there. i finally resurfaced, having gunned handfuls of water through my nose. plugging it with my hand would've prevented me from flailing them, you see. i'm not so much an outdoors adventurist. in fact, it's something i've pretty near to never done. i've been laughed/scoffed at for saying when asked if i'd like to go bungee jumping, "I'd rather be reading." that may or may not still be true (but if i ever go, i'm totally wearing a shirt with that slogan). i'm still stuck in the "why bother risking life and limb" camp from my time with g. i said yesterday that i'm not scared of dying, i just don't want to be paralysed. so anyway, i jumped again, and it was again cool, but i didn't come close to jumping off the 80 foot cliff that maven jumped from. maybe next time. definitely fucking next time.

the second experience i actually guessed (along with the possibility of it being a ferris wheel ride). we went to a drive-in theatre! i was made to close my eyes (i assume so i wouldn't see the sign) and all i heard was a lady saying "here's a bag for your trash." i thought for a minute we might be going to clean up a dirty island or something, but at dusk, i didn't think so/was hoping not. i was fucking tired. anyway, the drive-in was awes. we turned our dial to get their frequency and enjoyed the spectacular? neon green-only pre-show that included appearancs from the simpsons, the beatles and an appropriated "walk the dinosaur" video. anyway, the features were brothers grimm and the great raid. we'd already decided to say fuck the last film, and i was keen to see brothers grimm, altho i heard it was terrible. it pretty much was, but the experience was awesome. two unfortunate things: 1) i was tired as christ on the cross, so we tried lots of creative ways to keep me awake. 2) there were baby seats in the back (no-- not fucking mine or those of my babies!) so there was no backseat love. we had to make creative use of the crowded front seat, cluttered with bottles and idents and shit.

i had a cool fucking weekend. i shared my bus seat with a historical military cartographer. i made a kickass cake which even the best baker grandmother asked for the recipe for. i took soy ice cream in a special bag and it lasted the four hours i needed it to. i entertained twins who missed me. we got caught up on what we were sharvin' for. i miss maven already.

the country was beautiful.

leaving was dreadfully difficult.

since last we met...

took melatonin. wrote. made a list. closed my window. fell asleep. woke up to danzig's demonthrallsweatlive. got up an hour later. felt like sleeping. got up anyway. made yerba mate/soymilk/maple syrup. made and drank smoothie: soymilk, maca, greens, banana, blueberries, flax oil, flax meal and protein, acai. paid my phone bill. checked by bank balance. fucked around. walked to scotia square, bought gold lettering, a small photo album, glow in the dark bats, a folder. hated the temperature. came home. fucked around. changed into something more exciting. packed my goods. walked quickly to work, stopped at the supertstore on the way to try to print digital photos for the second or third time: no success. continued to walk to work. priced sale items. didn't care about customers. delivered my goods. donned my shuffle, listened to random dark tunes and walked home in the dim light. ran into g and his tennis partner and helped them decide on a place to eat. was offered a ride to the valley. cool. shitty feeling swollen gland. brother's home. we resist deef. complain. a couple phone calls. i don't make jam yet again. check blogs, mail. ate kamut bread with hummus. tried to stay awake. listened to :wumpscut:. was reminded of last autumn. wrote. took vitamin a, zinc, mushrooms, vitamin c, colloidal silver, primal defense, melatonin. read a bit of the coast. write. fell asleep early. dreampt of working at heartwood bakery. woke up at 7:11 to :wumpscut: wished i could stay between my three quilts. opened my window. ate cinnamon date manna bread with my homemade strawberry jam. ate smoked tofurkey slices. drank soymilk. made yerba mate. decorated gift. made birthday card. listened to :wumpscut: reminded of autumn again. wished i could stay home today. was solemn but content. packed for the valley. brushed my body. showered while looking out the window. nobody was watching me. got dressed. now i am here.

sometimes i think i might die

i'm old. i'm old and crumbling. it fucking sucks. i was an insomniac for my first 21 years, and i've always been used to the night, fucking loving staying up and getting up early if i so wished. i could function on 1-2 hours. i'd act kind of like a crackhead, but i could totally do it-- sometimes even functioning better mentally than usual. this has shaped a good deal of my personality. odd hours of sleep like 1 and 3 and 5 and 7 seemed better on me than the even ones. i thrived on and bragged about how little i needed. i spent last summer being as debacherous as beanily possible and it worked. my black pills kept me alive. fastforward to summer '05. while i look better and can fit past dilem at the desk, i can't fucking go with no sleep and get wasted and walk home at dawn, sleep 2 hours, wake up drunk, go to work and be a champ. no christly go. it hurts. it kills me. my bed is begging for me. i feel like i;m about to cry and throw up and fall over. i want to make blueberry jam instead. i want to read and write and generally just appreciate the world at night. then i want to wake up at 7 and smell the fresh, quiet morning and not need greens and mate and a hot shower and danko jones and six jumping jacks in order to leave the house. often i actually feel like vomitting i'm so tired. it's only now that i'm admitting i might not be able to run like this anymore. i'm not entirely willing to relinquish these practises but my body's probably telling me that whisky and gin and 2 hours of sleep is not the formula for healing several inches of rotten bowel complete with a tear in them. so perhaps i'll listen. so perhaps i'm a little stubborn. perhaps i'd rather punch myself in the face than go to bed early. perhaps waking up miserable every morning for the next month or so will teach me something. i have no wrinkles, i've found two potentially grey hairs, but i will not accept that i'm too old to stay up late and still get up early. fuck off, self. wake up and keep up and stop being an ass. ow.

ow.

ow (help).

ow.

these boots were made for flowers

pictured here, are my old pair of vegetal leather boots i bought in 1998, cut open and filled with soil and billowing blossoms. dad is pretty much famous for planting flowers in boots. i feel kind of honoured that he used my old footwear. dad is awesome.

fox news is for the birds/has gone to the dogs (in a bad way)

thunder, our german shepherd/ chocolate lab/ chesapeake bay retriever brother is pictured here not caring about fox news.

the answer is in the chocolatey portrayal?

yeah, okay-- but i don't think they should be getting along so well. do you think the one on the left looks conniving, and the one on the right looks duped? i kind of hope so. that's kind of us.

astrological confession

hello, my name is beany and i'm a gemini.

i have too many ideas and i wish i were organized, independantly wealthy and fearless enough to pull them all (okay, the decent ones) off. just so you know, i'm getting closer (but not close enough) to this point. care to push? i piss myself off. this morning was slow going because last night was acrobatic. yerba mate saved my ass once again. i brewed it good and strong. thanks, paraguay. i don't feel like punching myself in the face. in fact, i smiled a lot today. a conference of geminis confirmed today that too many ideas are indeed a burden.

what goodpie taught me + mouse update

a) last night i went to a goodpie party (pie-themed goodbye party). i was too much of a chump (read: busy seeing my lover off, disorganized) to take a pie myself, but there were six pies there (three of which i got to try, one of which was a repeat, and one that was all gone). it was awesome to eat pie. was awesome to hang with a bunch of cool cats who weren't assholes- most of whom i don't know that well. in any case, it got me to thinking how i hadn't eaten a decent meal in a good many days. consequently, i feel like shit-ass today. everyone's got their weakness-- whether it's an impairment either physical or mental or emotional, or something awful to overcome. mine's (among other things, i suppose), rotten bowels. most of you know this about me. every crumb i put into my mouth (or splash if in liquid form) affects me in an immediate (and normally hideous) way. sometimes even carrots make me sick. and apples. and tomatoes. anyway, my body's seriously protestin' thangs today (by not working, feeling swole, cementile, hurting and allowing me an energy level of 2/10), and i had no choice but to come home after a day of little to eat, chlorinated water to drink and a house full of dirty dishes, mouse shit and fruit flies to my own house full of dirty dishes, mouse shit and fruit flies with no choice but to suck it up and do the necessary: wash a fuckoload of dishes and make a hot meal. i chose a fave staple: brown rice cooked for an hour and steamed kale with the usual trimmings. maybe i'll have some tofu later, but for now, it's hot complex carbs i need. chewing is fucking awesome. fuck, this is good.

b) i also bought a mouse scream-alarm which is a little 30$ machine that half-heartedly promises to scare mice away with high-pitched squealing that only small rodents can hear. it's supposed to take between 2-8 weeks. whatever. it's better than a) being carried away in my sleep by thousands of mice to some hugeass northend or waterfront lair/nest or b) killing them, because i just can't bring myself to do it. anyway, we'll see. i haven't seen a mouse yet tonight (ok, so it's only 6:36pm, but those pricks have certainly shown themselves during the day. i think they're evolving to be diurnal).

c) at the party last night, i found out someone i met that night (who seems lovely) is going to live in my old house on yukon. i was relieved to find that it's not being lived in by a stranger, jealous that it's not me (i fucking love that awesome, mouseless place) and weirded out by my having to hold back a million questions for her about how she likes the house (yet she hasn't even moved in). see, for me, i've not lived in many houses. that house was my home (and really was) for three years. i miss it and wish i were there and strongly dislike this house but have to live with it. but i love this neighbourhood because the neighbours say hi and it's generally fucking rockin'. anyway, sorry to pester you about your new house. i won't stalk you or your house as someone suggested last night. i'm glad my home went to a good home.

pessimism works!

i'm mostly a pessimist. i probably represent in the following order:

pessimist

realist

idealist

optimist

i'm a pessimist because i'm also a realist, and reality shows me that shit doesn't often happen the way i want it to. so, i might as well expect the worst. why? because if i expect the best and the worst happens, i'll be disapointed-- and i fucking hate to be disapointed. so, if i'm pessmistic and good shit happens, i'm willing to face the fact that i was wrong in my expectations and rejoice in goodness happening. either way, i win. it even worked for me in the beginning of my (unregistered) business. i thought, "what the fuck, i might as well sell my fab product. someone will probably buy it." i expected to sell maybe 24 each week and make a little extra cash. i ended up selling more than 4 times this. while i sometimes curse my newfound/pessimism-born fortune because i'd rather sleep/read/go to rock shows/fuck/stare at a wall-- duty calls: and i'm fabulously happy with the turnout. if i'd thought i could sell more than 100 per week, i might not've begun because it would've seemed like too much work. what works? pessmisism. pessmimism works. now i won't knock optimism, it has its time and its place. like when you're trying to heal or when you're jumping out of a plane or when the condom breaks.* i used to be an idealist, and it depressed me and made me take life too seriously and got me into all sorts of fucking shitty trouble. but sometimes it feels good, so i do it. fantasyland can be a fun time-- but it doesn't get shit done. that's why, as a general rule, i vote for pessimism. it works for me!

*if the condom breaks, further action must be taken. my period takes no responsibility for unwanted pregnancies such as the one that resulted in my birth.

maynard in the niiiiite!

maynard in hell

choice eating

top 5 most-beloved foods according to where i keep them:

cupboards/laying around
1. brown rice
2. bananas
3. rye krisps
4. raisins
5. onions

fridge
1. tofu
2. kale
3. soydogs
4. olives
5. soymilk

condiments
1. bragg's liquid aminos
2. tahini
3. pesto
4. soy mayo
5. ketchup

drinks
1. soymilk (deserves a second mention)
2. yerba mate
3. greens
4. whisky
5. water

freezer
1. kamut bread
2. blueberries
3. ice cubes
4. tempeh
5. corn tortillas

you?

sometimes i'm so high

it's feeling like autumn. hard nipples in the morning. feet in need of nana's slippers. bothering to make breakfast: a hot cereal, perhaps. hoodies in the evening. the breeze makes me want to find a denser book and a mug of tea; three quilts and to stay in bed longer in the morn. summer's not eroded, but fall is showing its neck. i'm totally listening to gossip right now (i already knew it all). bon nuit.

...cause baby, baby i was born to quilt

a nice harbour hopper patron allowed me to photograph her cool tattoo. dig it. p.s. the harbour hopper was fun today-- thanks to booster juice, attila, jonesy, kelly and j.w.

please HRM, no dumping!

a cute sign placed beside a sewer grate in the grand parade. nice going, HRM-- but you might as well place one beside each of our toilets.

arachnophobia, anyone?

by special request, heeeeeeere's spidey!

spiders get me off

a cool-ass spider web by maven's house.

shit you don't see when you stay inside

today marked our third lake visit-- this time an impromptu one. it was hot as fuck and the lake was perfectly cool. lots of blue dragonflies fucking, fewer blueberries than last time and two mating loons. they were doing lots of crazy shit, so loud and large that they interrupted my...yeah. anyway-- thanks for ruining the moment, mating loons!

here's hoping the imaginations of the world haven't entirely collapsed

something whispered to me during foreplay last night was potentially one of the best things i've heard. i can only hope it didn't come from maxim magazine or the men's issue of cosmo.

zucchini power!

you're looking at the blossom and sex organ(s) of our zucchini plant. ain't it pretty? she's a sexy blossom and soon she'll give birth (with any luck) to a fine zucchini progeny. i'm pleased as punch. i drempt about zucchini last night.

brought to you by procrastination

Big Five Word Test Results

Extroversion (70%) high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity. Accommodation (67%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly kind natured, trusting, and helpful at the expense of your own individual development (martyr complex). Orderliness (44%) moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, random, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of structure, reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment. Emotional Stability (72%) high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic. Inquisitiveness (75%) high which suggests you are very intellectual, curious, imaginative but possibly not very practical.

Take'>http://similarminds.com/big-5-word-pair.html">Take Free Big Five Word Choice Test
personality'>http://similarminds.com/">personality tests by similarminds.com

interfuckingesting.

i'm both-brained?

Brain Lateralization Test Results

Right Brain (48%) The right hemisphere is the visual, figurative, artistic, and intuitive side of the brain. Left Brain (46%) The left hemisphere is the logical, articulate, assertive, and practical side of the brain

Are'>http://similarminds.com/brain.html">Are You Right or Left Brained?
personality/'>http://similarminds.com">personality tests by similarminds.com

what the hell? i'm fairly balanced? that the christ is this all about?

take the test. what are your results?

mofo sand fortress

here's a corner of the sand fortress we ran out to build last week when we realized the tide'd be hitting it in about 40 minutes and it was our last chance. here, the northumberland straight is getting the best of our moat.

go away, i'm eating my feces-- i mean burger

here's north carolina's mareb morgan mowing down on some crap piece of mcdonald's pseudo-edible garbageo. doesn't she look pretty? and comfortable? and sensible? and happy? i am happy for her that she's losing weight, i'm just not so proud of her for her chosen method. read on...

supersize my brain-- PLEASE, pleads mareb morgan

many were inspired by morgan spurlock's film "supersize me." i was so in my element watching that film-- hating fast food, having similar creds as the director's (arguably bitchy) vegan nutritionist girlfriend and working in the health food industry for the last five years. being the health food whore and fast food hater that i am, i managed lots of "yeah i knew that, of course! i wish everyone knew that"s, "yeah i know that health guru-- he's awesome,"s and "yeah i can't believe anyone can eat like that"s. i was already on the fast food nopenope train, but others, like lycradog were inspired to eat better, and have (bravo!). some, however, missed the boat entirely. merab morgan, feeling that spurlock had unfairly attacked mcdonald's "food", insulted the overweight by assuming they couldn't resist upping a fast food size for a few pennies, as well as supposedly not having the time to make healthy or low-calorie meals, decided to embark on her own health-massacre by choosing mcdonald's "food" for all of her meals for three months in order to lose weight. the result: she's an idiot-- i mean-- she's lost 37 pounds already.

ok, so here's the biggest dumbest point: like jared, everyone's least favourite not-so-fatty, all morgan is doing is counting calories and eating less than she used to. this is a proven method of weight loss. nobody could argue this. if you eat less, you will lose weight. if you exercise, you'll lose even more. why this method isn't so popular anymore: a) it's not fun at all b) it's difficult c) it's not fun at all d) people are greedy e) it's not fun at all f) usually people crack and eventualy don't want to do it anymore, therefore piling all their weight back on g) it's not fun at all. h) people are looking for a quick fix.

i agree that people should consider the amount of calories they're consuming, but if you're maintaining a healthy weight, you're obviously on top of things. what morgan must not have remembered from spurlock's documentary, is that spurlock's blood showed some pretty horrendous results: his blood sugar levels, cholesterol levels and blood pressure skyrocketed; he grew excessively tired and suffered frequent headaches; he lost his sex drive and the performance ability; and his liver filled with fat because he had so much fat and sugar in his blood. he also vomitted after several of his meals.

honey, oh honey, oh HONEY, did you forget this part? morgan admits to hoping she becomes mcdonalds' next jaredesque skinnyspokesbitch, and this is certainly no excuse. you may be losing weight, because that's what happens on a calorie-reduced diet, but this still says nothing about the nutritional value of mcdonald's "food" or the willpower of your fellow fatties. guess what? we weren't meant to eat in our cars in five minutes or less. how can this feel right? sometimes this is almost necessary because sometimes we're in a rush-- but it makesme vomit to think this is how some people prefer it, or that this is the way some of us are living. take a look at yourselves. slow down.

now here's my advice to you, miss morgan: take the lesson you learned while discovering that a calorie-reduced diet works, and apply it to something healthy. consider that: you can cook meals ahead of time (say when you're at home watching countless hours of television) and refrigerate and freeze them, salad doesn't need cooking, most vegetables take less than ten minutes to cook by steaming meat is disgusting and unnecessary. also, you'd better look for red yeast rice, fibre and fish oil pretty fucking quickly so your cholesterol doesn't give you an aneurysm or some shit.

and check this:

Dawn Jackson Blatner, a registered dietitian and spokeswoman for the American Dietetic Association, agreed that a low-calorie, McDonald’s-only diet can help people lose weight but said it may not offer enough long-term variety. Whatever an individual does to lose weight, they need to do for the rest of their life, she said.

ok, what? this dietitian's complaint is that a mcdonald's diet doesn't offer enought long-term variety? what the flying FUCK? neither does the diet of most north americans-- in fact i hear customers complain almost daily that their diet isn't varied enough. so fucking vary it, motherfuckers. and seriously-- variety is the least of my concerns with someone going on a three-month publicity-whore weight loss diet. shouldn't it be yours, merab morgan? how does this dietitian not comment on the complete and utter stupidity and riskiness of morgan's diet? or did she, and the good folks at the associated press just decide to ditch this? the worst thing it, most people would probably read this and still not consider what a terrible weight loss program morgan has chosen. they might try it themselves-- especially if they haven't seen or heard much about spurlock's supersize me. and whatever, i guess-- they're entitled. it's just too bad-- too bad that people care way more about how they look outside than how they feel inside-- mostly because they care about how others see them, because they're not secure on the inside. yikes, no? anyway, there are better ways to lose weight and keep it off and feel well and have it last: a healthy diet and exercise. this is no secret-- so stop being such an idiot and go steam some greens before your heart explodes in your childrens' faces! gawd!