July 31, 2006
Mazel Tov!
Oh dude! I just realized it's been a year since I started this. That surely must be the coolest thing you were told today.
July 30, 2006
Hand-Drawn Questions
> Didn't Snow White and Cinderella suffer from mad cases of morning breath when their princely saviours on white horses awoke them from their deep sleeps? Also, how did they also not mess their beds or get bed sores?
> How come Pepe Le Pew's horny obsession with the black cat was seen as funny and not as what it really was: stalking, sexual harassment, sexual assault, dry humping and practical rape?
> I know we all knew that the Beast was a cursed human prince on the inside, but Belle sure as hell didn't and fell in love with him anyway. Wouldn't it be beastiality if he didn't turned back and they consummated their true fairy tale love? This question also works for Roger and Jessica Rabbit. Friggin' pervs.
> Wasn't Jem ever concerned that Rio was two-timing with her alter ego Jerrica when she wasn't around? And how come Jerrica was OK with him getting some rockstar nookie with Jem, while we're at it? Someone's got both identity and self-esteem problems if you ask me.
> Was Tweety a boy or a girl, coz he had some raging eyelashes and pouty lips and no discernible genitals. Maybe the question should really be: Pre-op or post-op...
> Why did no one ever kill that pansy-assed sidekick of the Mighty Hercules? Even as a kid I thought that Newton was the most annoying thing ever and I bet he was "touched" too. How can you trust a boy who prances around constantly anyhow?
> The Amazing Spiderman, when he swung along the city's skyline doing his spiderly patrol thing at the end of the episode after he had saved Gotham, Grayskull or whatever, where did his webbing attach onto? Heaven, perhaps?
> Were He-Man and She-Ra siblings or lovers for pete's sake?! Or maybe, BOTH...
> When they concentrated real hard, clenched their fists and stuck their rotund little bellies out to give the Care Bear Stare and/or Care Bear Cousins Call, did any one of them ever accidentally push out a fart?
> How come Charlie Brown never bitch-slapped or kicked Lucy in the head after she pulled the football out from under him? I bet that would've made her think hard the next time she tried that stunt.
> When they were flying around in Neverland did any of the Lost Boys ever take a peek up Wendy's nightgown? Coz I would, if only to make sure that her bloomies didn't say "Wednesday" on a Thursday. Eeew..
> I was probably 4 when I watched Bambi and nobody would tell me what happened to his mom. What's up with that?
> How come Pepe Le Pew's horny obsession with the black cat was seen as funny and not as what it really was: stalking, sexual harassment, sexual assault, dry humping and practical rape?
> I know we all knew that the Beast was a cursed human prince on the inside, but Belle sure as hell didn't and fell in love with him anyway. Wouldn't it be beastiality if he didn't turned back and they consummated their true fairy tale love? This question also works for Roger and Jessica Rabbit. Friggin' pervs.
> Wasn't Jem ever concerned that Rio was two-timing with her alter ego Jerrica when she wasn't around? And how come Jerrica was OK with him getting some rockstar nookie with Jem, while we're at it? Someone's got both identity and self-esteem problems if you ask me.
> Was Tweety a boy or a girl, coz he had some raging eyelashes and pouty lips and no discernible genitals. Maybe the question should really be: Pre-op or post-op...
> Why did no one ever kill that pansy-assed sidekick of the Mighty Hercules? Even as a kid I thought that Newton was the most annoying thing ever and I bet he was "touched" too. How can you trust a boy who prances around constantly anyhow?
> The Amazing Spiderman, when he swung along the city's skyline doing his spiderly patrol thing at the end of the episode after he had saved Gotham, Grayskull or whatever, where did his webbing attach onto? Heaven, perhaps?
> Were He-Man and She-Ra siblings or lovers for pete's sake?! Or maybe, BOTH...
> When they concentrated real hard, clenched their fists and stuck their rotund little bellies out to give the Care Bear Stare and/or Care Bear Cousins Call, did any one of them ever accidentally push out a fart?
> How come Charlie Brown never bitch-slapped or kicked Lucy in the head after she pulled the football out from under him? I bet that would've made her think hard the next time she tried that stunt.
> When they were flying around in Neverland did any of the Lost Boys ever take a peek up Wendy's nightgown? Coz I would, if only to make sure that her bloomies didn't say "Wednesday" on a Thursday. Eeew..
> I was probably 4 when I watched Bambi and nobody would tell me what happened to his mom. What's up with that?
July 23, 2006
Asian Addiction
It was the summer of 199... 8? 9? Whatever. I went to Taiwan on a student exchange program. My intentions were good, I wanted to learn the language, immerse myself in a different culture and see the world. Only later did I hear that the trip was infamously known as the "Love Boat"... a 6 week opportunity for horny teenagers to indulge in all their sexual fantasies without the fear of mom and/or dad walking in and impeding the copious amounts of copulation going on.
Whatever the case, what happens in Taiwan stays in Taiwan. Needless to say a lot of stuff happened that will provide me plenty of memories to last a long, long time. What really struck me, was that no matter where the people came from, Asians will be Asians. In the age right before digital cameras came along (or were in the everyman's price range), everyone was packing. Film canisters were everywhere, we had all scoped out the cheapest, fastest best developing places. The fact that I had to think about what those containers were called and how film become pictures tells me that indeed, the traditional 35mm camera is very passe.
I brought 6 rolls of 24 exposure film for my 6 week trip. That's.. 144 pictures. After the first week people were running around with multiple albums in hand stuffed full of pictures to show their new friends. I couldn't understand how anyone could take so many pictures! By the end of the trip people were going home with cases of pictures while I had my 6 rolls of memories to bring back to Canada.
Everywhere I go I see Asians toting cameras around and clicking at any and everything. I've seen a busload of tourists run after squirrels taking pictures and countless group pictures being taken with ever multiplying cameras appearing with every click. I've had to suffer through countless torture sessions looking at the vacation pictures of friends who took 8000 pictures when 20 would have sufficed. It's nice that you had fun, but it was your vacation. Your pictures really don't mean anything to me, just like mine won't tickle your soul either. The context just isn't there for me. And if every picture contains a stock shot of you and your honey posing in front of whatever interesting there is in the background that you've just obliterated, tedium soon turns into thoughts of putting a bullet in someone's head. I'm not too picky about where that bullet goes...
What do people do with so many pictures? Mr. Stinky and I rarely print our pictures and when we do, after a week or so it gets tossed in a random corner or shelf. Would taking 144 pictures versus 1444 really mean anything to anyone after time passes and you forget who that bunch of people in your pictures are anyway? Where are my Taiwan pictures? In a box. Somewhere. When was the last time I looked through them? Sometime awhile ago. Besides a few fond memories, would I really care about what all those people from around the world are doing right now? Probably not.
Perhaps I was short-changed a few Asian genes while hanging out in my mother's womb. I don't seem to be Asian enough in many respects. I should've shot out of there with a camera in one hand and chopsticks in the other, smelling of mothballs and driving a Japanese economy car. Instead I might have introduced myself to the world while driving a pickup truck with my cursing finger extended and a big ol' sneer they hoped was a smile on my face.
I may be pissed off at something... what that is isn't quite clear to me at the moment.
Whatever the case, what happens in Taiwan stays in Taiwan. Needless to say a lot of stuff happened that will provide me plenty of memories to last a long, long time. What really struck me, was that no matter where the people came from, Asians will be Asians. In the age right before digital cameras came along (or were in the everyman's price range), everyone was packing. Film canisters were everywhere, we had all scoped out the cheapest, fastest best developing places. The fact that I had to think about what those containers were called and how film become pictures tells me that indeed, the traditional 35mm camera is very passe.
I brought 6 rolls of 24 exposure film for my 6 week trip. That's.. 144 pictures. After the first week people were running around with multiple albums in hand stuffed full of pictures to show their new friends. I couldn't understand how anyone could take so many pictures! By the end of the trip people were going home with cases of pictures while I had my 6 rolls of memories to bring back to Canada.
Everywhere I go I see Asians toting cameras around and clicking at any and everything. I've seen a busload of tourists run after squirrels taking pictures and countless group pictures being taken with ever multiplying cameras appearing with every click. I've had to suffer through countless torture sessions looking at the vacation pictures of friends who took 8000 pictures when 20 would have sufficed. It's nice that you had fun, but it was your vacation. Your pictures really don't mean anything to me, just like mine won't tickle your soul either. The context just isn't there for me. And if every picture contains a stock shot of you and your honey posing in front of whatever interesting there is in the background that you've just obliterated, tedium soon turns into thoughts of putting a bullet in someone's head. I'm not too picky about where that bullet goes...
What do people do with so many pictures? Mr. Stinky and I rarely print our pictures and when we do, after a week or so it gets tossed in a random corner or shelf. Would taking 144 pictures versus 1444 really mean anything to anyone after time passes and you forget who that bunch of people in your pictures are anyway? Where are my Taiwan pictures? In a box. Somewhere. When was the last time I looked through them? Sometime awhile ago. Besides a few fond memories, would I really care about what all those people from around the world are doing right now? Probably not.
Perhaps I was short-changed a few Asian genes while hanging out in my mother's womb. I don't seem to be Asian enough in many respects. I should've shot out of there with a camera in one hand and chopsticks in the other, smelling of mothballs and driving a Japanese economy car. Instead I might have introduced myself to the world while driving a pickup truck with my cursing finger extended and a big ol' sneer they hoped was a smile on my face.
I may be pissed off at something... what that is isn't quite clear to me at the moment.
July 20, 2006
Blame Game
The headlines these days are all focussing on the troubles in the Middle East and getting people out of harm's way. Actually, I haven't really been reading or watching the news because everyday is the same dredge. I don't find that the news is "news" per se, more like media hype and exploitation of suffering and pain. In the winter it's all about how cold it is. Cold alert! And the snow and ice, oh the pain, the pain! In the summer we can't stop talking about how hot it is. Heat alert! Smog alert! Red alert, shields up!
But back to this topic. Really, you don't think all of this war stuff was happening before it suddenly became sexy and Pulitzer Prize-worthy? You think this whole Israel-Muslims-Christians pissing contest haven't been going on since forever? Look up The Crusades, they've been pissed off at each other since they defined "pissed off". What I'm noticing now, though is that there's a lot of news coverage on the evacuation of people from the Beirut, Lebanon area. And even louder are the bleets of the angry people who blame their governments for not doing enough, especially Canada.
?????????? Enough? Enough what? Why is it your government's responsibility to bail your ass out when trouble a-cometh? Why do you need to rely on someone else to rescue you when your life of milk and honey suddenly turns into vinegar? This I don't understand because it wasn't the government of Canada who put them in Lebanon in the first place. It was their conscious choice to live and raise families or vacation there and knowing that there is a risk of war or being attacked, they should have taken that into consideration before going and maybe even have a back-up plan if something were to happen. Which indeed, happened. Having dual citizenship is great, but if you don't live here, don't pay taxes and speak of Lebanon as "your country", don't expect us to rush to your aid at the first sign of trouble. It's my damn tax dollars that shuttles your freeloading butt out of the danger zone so don't run to anyone with a camera, microphone or notepad complaining how the Canadian govenment took too long, it should be ashamed of itself and needs to do more to take care of its own people.
The point is, you knew things were happening. Maybe not at first, but the signs were there and when it got bad you still had time to jet yourself out of there. But no, you sat home and did nothing. Then you expected Canada to have waiting cruise ships sitting in your harbour ready for you to leave. And I bet that when things settle down you'll be on the first plane back to Lebanon. I also bet that if bombs weren't dropping all around you, there wouldn't even be a passing thought of Canada in your head. Want someone to blame? Look in the mirror. Grow up and take some responsibility, someone has to and in this case it's not the government's fault.
Look, I don't want people to die. I just don't like the heaping mounds of shit Canada has to sit in everytime something happens. To extend an olive branch of goodwill, my Morden Centennial is starting to bloom. This is from me to you, please get out safely.
But back to this topic. Really, you don't think all of this war stuff was happening before it suddenly became sexy and Pulitzer Prize-worthy? You think this whole Israel-Muslims-Christians pissing contest haven't been going on since forever? Look up The Crusades, they've been pissed off at each other since they defined "pissed off". What I'm noticing now, though is that there's a lot of news coverage on the evacuation of people from the Beirut, Lebanon area. And even louder are the bleets of the angry people who blame their governments for not doing enough, especially Canada.
?????????? Enough? Enough what? Why is it your government's responsibility to bail your ass out when trouble a-cometh? Why do you need to rely on someone else to rescue you when your life of milk and honey suddenly turns into vinegar? This I don't understand because it wasn't the government of Canada who put them in Lebanon in the first place. It was their conscious choice to live and raise families or vacation there and knowing that there is a risk of war or being attacked, they should have taken that into consideration before going and maybe even have a back-up plan if something were to happen. Which indeed, happened. Having dual citizenship is great, but if you don't live here, don't pay taxes and speak of Lebanon as "your country", don't expect us to rush to your aid at the first sign of trouble. It's my damn tax dollars that shuttles your freeloading butt out of the danger zone so don't run to anyone with a camera, microphone or notepad complaining how the Canadian govenment took too long, it should be ashamed of itself and needs to do more to take care of its own people.
The point is, you knew things were happening. Maybe not at first, but the signs were there and when it got bad you still had time to jet yourself out of there. But no, you sat home and did nothing. Then you expected Canada to have waiting cruise ships sitting in your harbour ready for you to leave. And I bet that when things settle down you'll be on the first plane back to Lebanon. I also bet that if bombs weren't dropping all around you, there wouldn't even be a passing thought of Canada in your head. Want someone to blame? Look in the mirror. Grow up and take some responsibility, someone has to and in this case it's not the government's fault.
Look, I don't want people to die. I just don't like the heaping mounds of shit Canada has to sit in everytime something happens. To extend an olive branch of goodwill, my Morden Centennial is starting to bloom. This is from me to you, please get out safely.
July 18, 2006
Duck Duck Goose
We decided to have some friends over on Sunday, so I invited Emma and Goose (explanation to follow) for a small, intimate evening together. The plan was for a nice, easy bike ride along the Waterfront Trail followed by (non-group) showers, dinner and then just hanging out. Seems easy, right? It started out innocently enough, it was friggin’ hot and muggy but since we live by the lake temperatures are usually much more tempered by it and even on the hottest days in the City, there is a cool breeze that comes off the lake making the outdoors that much more enjoyable.
The ride was pleasant enough; we rode roughly 15 km, round trip. There were lots of families out for picnics and family fun days and it was nice to see so many people having a good time. On our way back, I was riding with Goose who, at this point in time hadn’t been dubbed with said moniker yet, while Mr. Stinky and Emma were a ways back. All of a sudden a gigantic Canada Goose flew out of nowhere and almost crashed right into Goose’s head. I let out a scream of surprise and got a super close-up of a goose butt that I never wanted to see and he ducked and swerved while the bird flapped frantically, finally landing on the grass a few feet away. As I looked back, Emma is laughing at Mr. Stinky who was flying across the grassy field trying to spook the lounging birds, one of which had just spooked Goose and I.
After the feathers settled down we laughed about the incident. There aren’t many stories you hear about which includes almost being taken out by an unprovoked waterfowl and especially since that thing was so big we were pretty sure that Goose would have been knocked to the ground. I rationalized that perhaps the goose had lousy vision or had just consumed a heavy meal and couldn't quite attain normal flight altitudes. But now you know why his name is Goose.
The rest of the evening was pretty normal, we had fun, we ate, hung out and went home. Last night as I was talking to Emma on the phone, she was also on MSN with Goose. There were several threads of conversation going on at once making things a little confusing at times. While we talked about whatever, she would also interject with Goose’s replies as well as her responses to him as per their conversation.
Somehow or another the topic of handjobs came up. As she was typing that due to the incident, it was entirely logical that we change his name to Goose, I made a comment to her about giving out handjobs. All of a sudden she said, “I think that’s a good nickname for me.” Stunned, I blurted: "..HANDJOB?!?” Now it was her turn to be bamboozled and she shrieked into my ear, “WHAT? Wh… no!! That’s what Goose said!” Of course at this point we both dissolved into laughter because the timing was just so perfect that the two conversations came together like that and how do you time coincidence anyway?
That’s my Goose story, I think it’s a keeper.
The ride was pleasant enough; we rode roughly 15 km, round trip. There were lots of families out for picnics and family fun days and it was nice to see so many people having a good time. On our way back, I was riding with Goose who, at this point in time hadn’t been dubbed with said moniker yet, while Mr. Stinky and Emma were a ways back. All of a sudden a gigantic Canada Goose flew out of nowhere and almost crashed right into Goose’s head. I let out a scream of surprise and got a super close-up of a goose butt that I never wanted to see and he ducked and swerved while the bird flapped frantically, finally landing on the grass a few feet away. As I looked back, Emma is laughing at Mr. Stinky who was flying across the grassy field trying to spook the lounging birds, one of which had just spooked Goose and I.
After the feathers settled down we laughed about the incident. There aren’t many stories you hear about which includes almost being taken out by an unprovoked waterfowl and especially since that thing was so big we were pretty sure that Goose would have been knocked to the ground. I rationalized that perhaps the goose had lousy vision or had just consumed a heavy meal and couldn't quite attain normal flight altitudes. But now you know why his name is Goose.
The rest of the evening was pretty normal, we had fun, we ate, hung out and went home. Last night as I was talking to Emma on the phone, she was also on MSN with Goose. There were several threads of conversation going on at once making things a little confusing at times. While we talked about whatever, she would also interject with Goose’s replies as well as her responses to him as per their conversation.
Somehow or another the topic of handjobs came up. As she was typing that due to the incident, it was entirely logical that we change his name to Goose, I made a comment to her about giving out handjobs. All of a sudden she said, “I think that’s a good nickname for me.” Stunned, I blurted: "..HANDJOB?!?” Now it was her turn to be bamboozled and she shrieked into my ear, “WHAT? Wh… no!! That’s what Goose said!” Of course at this point we both dissolved into laughter because the timing was just so perfect that the two conversations came together like that and how do you time coincidence anyway?
That’s my Goose story, I think it’s a keeper.
July 17, 2006
July 14, 2006
Haircut
Got one a couple of days ago. Cut I like. Salon, I did not like.
My hair got to be about halfway down my back. It was starting to get heavy and boring. I cut my hair like, once or twice a year... certainly not the recommended three to four months or whatever the experts say. Actually, I think my last cut was about this time last summer. Nice. So since the trips to the salon are a rare occurence, it's a big deal for me. I ask for everything to get chopped off so I can start all over again. My hair currently sits on my shoulders. Nice and short.
I decided to get my hair cut at a salon near work because it'd be so much more convenient if I just use my lunch hour and not have to go home, get the car, drive to the salon and so on. I had been to this place before for my summer pedicure which I wasn't too impressed with but I thought, feet and hair... different parts, different people.
I made my appointment the day of, going in person to tell them I wanted a cut at 12:00pm with a Director Stylist. At 11:48am, just as I was about to leave for my appointment the phone rang and they said there was a mistake. They had to push it back to 12:30pm. I was OK with the time change since it seemed like an honest mistake. When I arrived at the newly agreed upon time, I was taken to the colouring chair instead of the hairwashing station. The stylist asked what colour I wanted. ?? I told her I was there for a cut. She went to check the book at the front and front desk girl came and told me I was there for an updo. ??? I said no, I was there to get. a. hair. cut. There was some grumbling and such, no apologies for me, and a demand to know how and when I made the appointment and who I talked to.
After we cleared the air my stylist went to work. She was good, super good. She was fast and knew what she was doing. We didn't talk. None of the people there spoke to their clients. None of them smiled either. It was a surreal experience, like I was in some world of haute couture where everyone's so cool they're bored. Whatev. I didn't feel like small talk anyway.
When she was done I went up to pay. The bill was more than I had expected. Turns out instead of a Director Stylist I was attended to by a Master Stylist which means she's good enough that they charge me extra. I'm not opposed to paying what they charged since I thought she was worth it, but seeing's how I had specifically asked for an apple and they gave me a pickle it was unnerving. All the more so because they had screwed up every single detail of my appointment. To err is human but in this case they went errrrrrr and I didn't get an apology.
I paid but I don't know if I want to go back. I should be OK though, since I have a whole year to find another place to visit. Either that, or the anger fades in time and I end up back there again.
On a topic totally unrelated to hair, there is a light bulb on its last gas molecule, prong, whatever, above my computer which means it's exactly where it should be to drive me bananas. It's flickering and making the "tink, tink..... tink" noise constantly making it tremendously hard for me to concentrate on my work. I want to start throwing things at it just to shatter the tube and make it stop but then I'll probably get in a lot of trouble when the guy comes to fix it. He probably won't arrive until 3:36pm today, just in time to keep my last thread of sanity from blitzing out and causing me to go on a huge paperclip throwing, paper crumpling, chair spinning, plug unplugging rampage. Heh... remember Rampage? Sigh.. I have to find my happiness somewhere. With all the flickering I might start to think I'm suffering from a mini stroke or something. At least it'll provide an alibi for my climbing and punching things and eating people. What?
My hair got to be about halfway down my back. It was starting to get heavy and boring. I cut my hair like, once or twice a year... certainly not the recommended three to four months or whatever the experts say. Actually, I think my last cut was about this time last summer. Nice. So since the trips to the salon are a rare occurence, it's a big deal for me. I ask for everything to get chopped off so I can start all over again. My hair currently sits on my shoulders. Nice and short.
I decided to get my hair cut at a salon near work because it'd be so much more convenient if I just use my lunch hour and not have to go home, get the car, drive to the salon and so on. I had been to this place before for my summer pedicure which I wasn't too impressed with but I thought, feet and hair... different parts, different people.
I made my appointment the day of, going in person to tell them I wanted a cut at 12:00pm with a Director Stylist. At 11:48am, just as I was about to leave for my appointment the phone rang and they said there was a mistake. They had to push it back to 12:30pm. I was OK with the time change since it seemed like an honest mistake. When I arrived at the newly agreed upon time, I was taken to the colouring chair instead of the hairwashing station. The stylist asked what colour I wanted. ?? I told her I was there for a cut. She went to check the book at the front and front desk girl came and told me I was there for an updo. ??? I said no, I was there to get. a. hair. cut. There was some grumbling and such, no apologies for me, and a demand to know how and when I made the appointment and who I talked to.
After we cleared the air my stylist went to work. She was good, super good. She was fast and knew what she was doing. We didn't talk. None of the people there spoke to their clients. None of them smiled either. It was a surreal experience, like I was in some world of haute couture where everyone's so cool they're bored. Whatev. I didn't feel like small talk anyway.
When she was done I went up to pay. The bill was more than I had expected. Turns out instead of a Director Stylist I was attended to by a Master Stylist which means she's good enough that they charge me extra. I'm not opposed to paying what they charged since I thought she was worth it, but seeing's how I had specifically asked for an apple and they gave me a pickle it was unnerving. All the more so because they had screwed up every single detail of my appointment. To err is human but in this case they went errrrrrr and I didn't get an apology.
I paid but I don't know if I want to go back. I should be OK though, since I have a whole year to find another place to visit. Either that, or the anger fades in time and I end up back there again.
On a topic totally unrelated to hair, there is a light bulb on its last gas molecule, prong, whatever, above my computer which means it's exactly where it should be to drive me bananas. It's flickering and making the "tink, tink..... tink" noise constantly making it tremendously hard for me to concentrate on my work. I want to start throwing things at it just to shatter the tube and make it stop but then I'll probably get in a lot of trouble when the guy comes to fix it. He probably won't arrive until 3:36pm today, just in time to keep my last thread of sanity from blitzing out and causing me to go on a huge paperclip throwing, paper crumpling, chair spinning, plug unplugging rampage. Heh... remember Rampage? Sigh.. I have to find my happiness somewhere. With all the flickering I might start to think I'm suffering from a mini stroke or something. At least it'll provide an alibi for my climbing and punching things and eating people. What?
July 06, 2006
Randomosity
> I’m a party pooper with this World Cup thing going on because I don’t like the diving culture of the sport. I don’t like hearing from my friends “Who cares? You’re in it to win!” because that’s exactly what we try to teach our kids not to do. Winning is important, but not at the expense of the spirit of the game and your dignity. I don’t pretend that diving doesn’t exist in any other sport but it seems that this is the one game in which it is so prevalent that it’s infused, encouraged and a skill to be mastered. The attitude in soccer right now is not sportsmanlike at all and it disgusts me. And please get off the road where cars belong. Gumming up the streets coz you feel the need to celebrate will only further the anger felt by people like me and directed at people like you.
> I notice that I walk like a man. Squared shoulders, head up, perfect posture and big, purposeful strides. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, since it seems all the other women in the world (that I have observed) walk differently. We’ve got such gaits as the slouchy, shuffling death march, the jiggly boobs, swinging hips walk and stompers. I like that I don’t walk like that, but I worry that I might look butchy when I walk…. wait, why do I even care what you think?! Feh.
> When girls take pictures and they sweep all of their hair to one side, over their shoulder and let it hang down their chest and then either do the demure head tilt to the side or so that they are looking coyly up into the camera I just want to slap the piss out of them. Why? Why do they think that’s a good pose? Who told you that you look attractive? Who the hell wants to look at the hair hanging down your chest? That demure little smile looks so disingenuous that I just can’t believe it reflects your personality. It’s a picture damnit, relax and smile. This leads me to my next point.
> Everyone takes a bad picture once in awhile. Deal with it! Don’t get all immature and destroy, crop or cut yourself out of a picture just coz you don’t like it. The picture doesn’t make you look fat or ugly, that’s just the way you look. I’m not saying you are fat or ugly, that is just. how. you. look. So grow up. You may not be used to it coz we all look at you more than you look at yourself and we all have image issues anyway which results in seeing only what we want to see in the mirror. Conversely, pictures don’t make you look hot when you’re not. It’s reality, stop holding out for the “perfect” shot coz there’s no such thing (if we’re aiming for your standards).
> I love getting sun and tanning. I know about the risks of sunburn, skin cancer, sunspots and premature aging and yet I still tan. I figure I’m in my prime now so why wouldn’t I want to look good? Ain’t nobody gonna check me out when I’m 60 and think “She’s old and dumpy with the nylons wobbling around her ankles but damn she’s got nice skin! I think I’ll ask her to have some Metamucil with me!” Is that youthful ignorance? I don’t bake long enough to get too dark or burnt so I don’t feel that I’m killing my skin at a crazy rate. And I know that I increase my chances of developing skin cancer with the sunnage and all, but after reading multiple reports about how we’re all bound to be afflicted anyway by (any kind of) cancer during our lifetime I can’t say that I’m going to stop enjoying mine. By no means do I have a cavalier attitude towards this disease as I’ve had close dealings with it and I wouldn’t tempt fate by gulping down a bucket of PCBs. But since my body and environment are continuously swimming in a toxic stew, I’m resigned to the fact that cancer is inevitable, not a maybe.
> To the guy at the drugstore who saw me slowly heading towards the cashier, grabbed his stuff and ran (I’m not joking) to her even though there was nobody in line, dude. We don’t all have to be first all the time. If you’re that eager to give somebody else your money, be my guest.
> I notice that I walk like a man. Squared shoulders, head up, perfect posture and big, purposeful strides. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, since it seems all the other women in the world (that I have observed) walk differently. We’ve got such gaits as the slouchy, shuffling death march, the jiggly boobs, swinging hips walk and stompers. I like that I don’t walk like that, but I worry that I might look butchy when I walk…. wait, why do I even care what you think?! Feh.
> When girls take pictures and they sweep all of their hair to one side, over their shoulder and let it hang down their chest and then either do the demure head tilt to the side or so that they are looking coyly up into the camera I just want to slap the piss out of them. Why? Why do they think that’s a good pose? Who told you that you look attractive? Who the hell wants to look at the hair hanging down your chest? That demure little smile looks so disingenuous that I just can’t believe it reflects your personality. It’s a picture damnit, relax and smile. This leads me to my next point.
> Everyone takes a bad picture once in awhile. Deal with it! Don’t get all immature and destroy, crop or cut yourself out of a picture just coz you don’t like it. The picture doesn’t make you look fat or ugly, that’s just the way you look. I’m not saying you are fat or ugly, that is just. how. you. look. So grow up. You may not be used to it coz we all look at you more than you look at yourself and we all have image issues anyway which results in seeing only what we want to see in the mirror. Conversely, pictures don’t make you look hot when you’re not. It’s reality, stop holding out for the “perfect” shot coz there’s no such thing (if we’re aiming for your standards).
> I love getting sun and tanning. I know about the risks of sunburn, skin cancer, sunspots and premature aging and yet I still tan. I figure I’m in my prime now so why wouldn’t I want to look good? Ain’t nobody gonna check me out when I’m 60 and think “She’s old and dumpy with the nylons wobbling around her ankles but damn she’s got nice skin! I think I’ll ask her to have some Metamucil with me!” Is that youthful ignorance? I don’t bake long enough to get too dark or burnt so I don’t feel that I’m killing my skin at a crazy rate. And I know that I increase my chances of developing skin cancer with the sunnage and all, but after reading multiple reports about how we’re all bound to be afflicted anyway by (any kind of) cancer during our lifetime I can’t say that I’m going to stop enjoying mine. By no means do I have a cavalier attitude towards this disease as I’ve had close dealings with it and I wouldn’t tempt fate by gulping down a bucket of PCBs. But since my body and environment are continuously swimming in a toxic stew, I’m resigned to the fact that cancer is inevitable, not a maybe.
> To the guy at the drugstore who saw me slowly heading towards the cashier, grabbed his stuff and ran (I’m not joking) to her even though there was nobody in line, dude. We don’t all have to be first all the time. If you’re that eager to give somebody else your money, be my guest.
July 05, 2006
Toast
That's what I look like after a weekend under the sun. I think I look gorgeous and ain't nothing you say will change my mind. We went up to the trailer Friday night and had a relaxing couple of days. We bobbed around in the lake, laid on the boat, played some tennis, rode around on the bikes and laid on the boat some more. I have lost my pasty winter pallour and have achieved ultimate yummy summer glow. Hooray for damaging UV rays.
The only poopy thing about the weekend was that I lost my sunglasses, I don't remember how they jumped off my head but I suppose I wasn't paying attention and they went into the drink. Now I don't look quite as cool anymore when I'm out in the sun. I complained that I'm all squinty when I go outside now and Mr. Stinky relayed his sympathies by saying, "Aren't you always squinty anyway?" Sucky... I have to go buy a new pair now. Bah.
So now I'm back to work and back to reality. I feel good and refreshed. I feel so good I might do something productive today! Two more days until the weekend, weeee!
The only poopy thing about the weekend was that I lost my sunglasses, I don't remember how they jumped off my head but I suppose I wasn't paying attention and they went into the drink. Now I don't look quite as cool anymore when I'm out in the sun. I complained that I'm all squinty when I go outside now and Mr. Stinky relayed his sympathies by saying, "Aren't you always squinty anyway?" Sucky... I have to go buy a new pair now. Bah.
So now I'm back to work and back to reality. I feel good and refreshed. I feel so good I might do something productive today! Two more days until the weekend, weeee!
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