P-dot eterborough-dot

This entry comes to the ether by way of Peterborough, Ontario, land of my birth and upbringing. Long story short, you should love Peterborough, because it produced me. (And Erica, but she didn't stick around). I myself do enthusiastically love the P-dot. There was someone playing the bagpipes in a park today. It can't really get much better than that. The only blotch on the record is that since I'm here, I can't be "there" when Stephie discovers her birthday gift. C'est la vie, I suppose. Hopefully she likes it.

My loveable talking dog and cat were here to greet me when I got home and the doors were locked and the lights out. "Bow-wow" says Maggie, the dog. "Bow-wow indeed," says I. "Mrrow!" says Buddy, the cat. "I agree!" says I. I look around for a bit, then head up to bed which is currently drenched with my sweat. I'd forgotten how hot it gets here sometimes. But I woke up this morning and pulled a binder off the bookshelf to find it's the script of a play that I worked on in first year. I flip through the notes and pages tot he back of the binder, and this is what I find: (It's quite long, so chicken out now if you're going to. It was originally handwritten, so I'll try to reproduce that here.)

The story I wish to relate is in regards to Ms. Kate Fenton and her magnificent purple elephant-tiger. Well, not even Kate so much, but more the specifics of her elephant-tiger. So if you wanted a story about Kate Fenton, fascinating as she is, you've picked up the wrong piece of paper. I'll now go into detail about the elephant -tiger. It's hard to picture what one looks like, especially if you are one of those unfortunate people without an imagination. If you are, you are asked to join those who thought this story was about Kate Fenton. Go away and play with Lego for a while, you boring miscreant. Shame on you. Without an imagination there's a good chance that you'll think this is a large ball of rubbish. Almost as large as the elephant-tiger is - most of the time anyway. So, about this elephant-tiger; Try, if you will, to imagine a tiger that is as large and fat as an elephant which has just ejoyed Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and Easter dinners. I like dinner, but that's beside the point. But then, lots of things which are beside the point turn out to be very relevant. Why else would they position themselves next to the point? It just makes sense, doesn't it? But about this tiger; It's big, right? Now picture an elephant that is as long and thin as a tiger which has been absent for all of it's potential Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter dinners. Poor git. Now, take your mental vice, and I know you all have one, because if you didn't you wouldn't be here. You'd have left when I told you to. You'll find that people without imaginations take direction from authors very easily. Clearly, I know what I'm talking about because I've written a book and you haven't. But enough about them. Why would we want to dwell on those who cannot communicate creatively? Probably because we cannot fathom how they can go on without imagination in their lives. Yet another example of how we are right and they are wrong. I shouldn't discriminate, but it's hard not to when you think you have all the answers. That's another thing you shouldn't do; look down on those who don't know everything, like you claim to. Don't hold it over their heads. Just help them on their way and get on to making the world a better place. But I'm getting away from the subject at hand which is that of the fabulous Kate Fenton and her elephant-tiger. Well, not so much Kate, but you already knew that. So as I was saying earlier, take your mental vice and moosh the fat tiger and the thin elephant together. Then separate them. Then do it again. Then keep doing it forever.

Life is hard for an elephant-tiger. This is why we're not focussing on Ms. Fenton, but rather on her elephant-tiger. Ms. Fenton's life is fairly easy, which makes her boring. I suppose I'm being a little harsh with poor Kate. She's very interesting on certain topics, but not anywhere as interesting as the elephant-tiger. Elephant-tigers are the one animal which has every other animal as a natural enemy. Even cute little kittens, like the kind Kate Fenton has, loathe and despise the elephant-tiger. Poor fellow. Although I shouldn't make it seem as though there are only male elephant-tigers. In fact, female elephant-tigers are much nicer, prettier, and more industrious than the male. In fact, male elephant-tigers are looked down on as lazy, good-for-nothing lay-a-bouts. Even I don't like them too much and I'm trying to be impartial. Impartiallity is a fairly good quality to have, but then so is modesty, so I'll say no more about it. No one is really sure why the female elepahnt-tiger is less hated (although it is still fairly un-liked) than the males, but no one really tries to figure it out. They're too busy not liking them. Such unparalleled rage towards the poor elephant-tigers. Even more than the legendary Scapegoat. But I digress. There is not enough room to discuss the Scapegoat in all it's intricacies. But about the elephant-tiger. I'm not sure why no one likes them. No one really is. All we know is that they are the most persecuted animal in history. Much more than those of Jewish faith. Not that I'm comparing the Jews to animals, it's just that they've been persecuted quite a good deal. Although persecution is never a "good deal." Terrible things happened because of a few ignorant people. This is one of the oddest things about the persecution of the elephant-tigers. They are possibly the most learned of of all the creatures. Yet you would be hard-pressed, dear reader, to find an elephant-tiger who would ever flaunt it's knowledge. If you were to stop hating it, the elephant-tiger would surely be able to answer any question you could ever ask. Fascinating creatures, both humans and elephant-tigers.I suppose this only proves that humans hate knowledge. No, I suppose that's not true. Even small children hate the elephant-tigers. Before they've learned to hate their own parents, they hate the elephant-tigers. Not that all children hate their parents, it's just that in this increasingly violent society, a lot of children do end up hating their parents on some level or another. I apologize for over-generalizing. Of course not all children hate their parents. Some of them buy their parents lovely Mother and Father's day presents.The point I think I am trying to make is that not everyone should hate the elephant-tigers either. My writing has become increasingly large and sloppy, but I do not blame the elephant-tigers as most would. The elephant-tigers have done little to provoke this. I believe it is just a stress release. You know, I believe that Ms. Kate Fenton uses this same technique to relieve tension. Not to mention it makes my narrative seem much more prolific. If I were to re-write this narrative in a smaller script I would certainly not use half this amount of parchment. Not that I'm writing on parchment, but I secretly wish I were. I suppose the secret's out. Not such a bad thing. I don't know why I didn't just tell someone sooner. Not a load off as some would say, but rather I realize that it wasn't such a big deal. Perhaps this is why Kate Fenton told her neighbor Celia McDermott about her elephant-tiger one day. Celia looked her up and down and said "Oh, that's interesting." and she invited Kate and the elephant-tiger over for a cup of tea. Have I mentioned that the elephant-tiger's name was 'Barry'? I suppose it's quite inconsequential, which is why I didn't mention it sooner. "Barry Williams." Yes, the elephant-tiger had a last name too. But anyway, Celia invited them over for tea. You might be thinking that she had invited Barry along for some sort of devious plan, to 'exterminate him' if you will. But no. She was being very polite. Barry fascinated Celia. It turns out our Ms. McDermott was a closet elephant-tiger fancier. And so was Old ma McEwan, the neighborhood gardener who had been throwing dirty looks in Barry's direction. Once Celia invited Kate and Barry in, John (who is also referred to as Old man McEwan) came running over like he was going to a birthday party. By the way, it might not be fair to refer to John as "Old Man McEwan." Both because some people are sensitive about their age, and because John was only 35 years old. So John took pictures of Barry, and some of Barry and Kate, and some of Barry and Celia, and some of Barry and Kate and Celia, and some of Barry and John, and some of Barry and Kate and John, and some of Barry and Celia and John, and because John's camera had a timer on it, some of Barry and Kate and Celia and John. Then once they'd been through two pots of tea and three rolls of film, they took the film down to the local drug store where Jenny the pharmacist could develop the pictures and everyone could have a jolly good laugh about them. (At one point Kate had placed a rather comical hat on Barry!) So just 3,600 short seconds later, the pictures wereready, and the three friends had a very nice time looking at them. They bought Barry an ice-cream cone from Jenny's pharmacy. (It should be noted that Jenny's pharmacy icarries not only prescriptionsm which is why it's so widely popular. Jenny is a very kind lady, always ready with a smile and a wink for the youngest to the oldest. Fernanda Henry is almost a permanent fixture at Jenny's. She'll sing songs to all the children whi don't look happy. No one could stay unhappy at Jenny's for long! It was too happy a place! In fact they didn't even have to leave if they didn't want to. Jenny had beds upstairs, above the shop, just in case you didn't feel like going home. She even had someone to call your parents to let them know where you were. Good ol' Mary Royal. She was a very enthusiastic individual, but that's not to be held against her. in fact, it's good to be enthusiastic every now and then. Don't over do it though.) So Barry happily munched on his ice-cream cone, and they all sat down and ate their delicious dinner that Barry had prepared while the rest of them were at Jenny's. After dinner, Celia's parents, Daryl and Bonnie stopped by. It turns out that no one really hates elephant-tigers but Rob. You should know who Rob is. He's that guy who, in grade three, kicked you in the shins and stole your marbles. So let's not mention him anymore. In fact, let's not mention much anymore.

To sum up: Lots of people like elephant-tigers, Kate's ot that boring, and I'm out of paper. Good night dear reader. I hope you've enjoyed this story of Barry, Kate, Celia, John, Jenny, Fernanda, May, Daryl, Bonnie, and Rob. Have a nice tomorrow, and try to pet an elephant-tiger if you see one. They'll like it, and so will you.

Good night.

And that's the end. I suppose it's the story of the defamation of an innocent and their eventual restoration as a valued member of society. People can be so cruel. But at least the elephant-tigers are safe once more.

DANCE! EVERY-BODY DANCE!!

You are spoon guy. You should have planned ahead
buddy, or packed a bigger lunch.

Google+Andrew=This junk

I'm stealing other people's good ideas once again. That seems to be my lot in life sometimes. In fact my mother once told me that 99% of what I say is not original. But that's another day and another rant.

I found this fun little thing where you answer questions using the first picture that comes up on Google images. You get some pretty fun answers, like what my favourite smell is, for example. Here goes:

<<<<WARNING!! CONTAINS NUDITY!!>>>>

(but that's not really a surprise, is it? It's Google after all.)

The Place you Grew Up:



The Place You Live Now:



Your Name:



Your Grandmother's name:



Your Favourite Food:



Your favourite drink:



Your favourite song:



Your favourite smell:



Your favourite shoes:



Your favourite number:



Man! This old shack rules! I should get t-shirts made up.

The Ballet of the Dog Walkers

Have you ever watched a person walk more than one dog at a time, or two people walking two dogs? There is an intricate dance going on between the people, the dogs, and the leashes. There is a weaving, ducking, stepping over that happens all in a smooth fashion in an effort to keep the leashes from becoming tangled or the dogs from running away onto the grass of the park.

It's something I've often thought about, but never known how to explain it.

4am

4am is the absolute void of human existence. No one should be awake at 4 in the morning. It's too late to decently be called a night out, and it's too early to get up to go somewhere. To quote the Simpsons:

"Good morning, it's 4am and it's time for the news. But of course there is no news. Everyone's still asleep in their comfy, comfy beds."

At about 4am I also found out via Jenny's newly designed site that posting personal pictures is a whole lot easier than originally thought. I probably still won't post pictures of myself, but it opens the door to picture posting optionland.

For example:



This is Nora (on the right) and her buddy Calvin (on the left) taken at Steph's place in Port Loring. Nora's not really that big, it's all just forced perspective.



Here they are again, still on Stephie's farm, but Steph's dogs Shady and Kat are under the porch.

Oh the possibilities! Now you'll be able to see things that I've seen, not just junk from other websites! Huzzah!

So shines a good deed in a weary world.

Some fairly nice things have been happening to me lately, and I feel like I should write something about them, but they're all so fragmented that attempting to string them together in some sort of coherent manner would simply be innane. So instead, I decided to try some more free writing, but making a concerted effort to put a positive spin on things.

So..... here goes:

I was weary from weeping when she came into my life. She shone like the sun, and made me weep for joy. She was the type to give change to a person on the sidewalk. Something within her means to change someone's day, if not their entire life. She knew that if you added up all the good day, you eventually came up with a good life. She wasn't on a mission.

We walked through fields of green pausing under large leafy trees to chat on the grass, talking of this and that, becoming excited when the groundhog made it's appearance. We saw a large farmhouse and were invited in by the farmer and his wife. Together the four of us sat and had lunch in the sun-lit kitchen. A gentle breeze flowed in through the windows and brought with it a soft fragrance of flowers.

"So tell me," said the farmer, wiping his mouth. "What is it you do, son?"

I already liked the fact that he called me "son," even though we'd only known each other for an hour or two. "I'm a writer," I said.

"Oh my," said his wife. "What do you write about?"

"I write about life. I write about people and their doings. I write about how I hope there's still hope left."

"Hope for what, son?"

"For all of us. Hope that one day, people will be decent to each other without expecting anything in return. Hope that we can heal the damage that's been done to the world and to our society."

She placed her hand on my arm, and I could tell she admired what I was saying. I admired her back for holding these ideals in high regard. We loved each other.

"Well son, that sounds mighty nice."

"Yes, doesn't it Henry?"

And we sat and thought about it all. After a few moments, the farmer pulled out his cheque book. I asked him what he was doing. He asked me what I thought he was doing, and I had to admit that I wasn't quite sure. Maybe he was paying bills or something similar.

"What do you use these things for?"

"Well, it's like saying that you have that much money, and if you give that slip of paper to the bank, they'll give you the money."

The farmer scratched his head. "That's not at all what I use them for."

"Oh. What do you use them for?"

The farmer finished scrawling on the cheque, then stood up and walked outside, beckoning us to follow. The three of us walked out the door and across the lawn to an old covered well. He lifted the lid and began pulling a strong, thin cord out of the well. There was a muted clunking as he drew the cord out, and when he reached the end there was a small metallic box with a lock on it. We took the box and walked over to the fence which bordered the farm. He picked up a nearby stick and began tapping it along the fence posts as we walked, talking of this and that. As we neared the end of the fence, one post issued a different sounding "thunk" than all the others. The farmer stopped and tugged on the fence post which came free from the fence, and a small key dropped out of it. He fitted the key into the lock and opened the lid.

Inside there were three stacks of cheques, each bound with an elastic band.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Whenever I meet someone like you, I listen to what they have to say, and I write it down on one of these cheques, and then I put it out here in this box. It seems like I might want to remember these things."

==========================================

That's it. I'm disappointd with how quickly this feeling of happiness passed. So in order to make myself happier, I'ma go finish Lord of the Rings! FINALLY!



I feel like Frodo after this long journey. Or maybe I just want a kiss on the head from Cate Blanchett.

There's an old man somewhere whose knee is acting up.

I'm at work now, and outside has gotten really dark, windy and threatening. It hasn't begun to rain just yet, but thunder is in the air, and you can feel the menace.

I'm rather looking forward to the walk home. I'll get in nice and soaked, put down my bag and take my puppy back outside into the rain again. After a moment, we'll come back and I'll change into some warm, dry clothes, and put on some soup.

I hope the storm waits to break.

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to....me?

Things worked out! (As far as I know) Jenny & I are going to be rockin' out at the Molson Amphitheatre to the White Stripes on September 16th, as close as we can shoulder our way to the front! Jack & Meg, Meg & Jack, Jenny & Andrew, Andrew & Jenny. Jenny has red pants that I want her to wear. I don't know what I'll wear yet. I have a red-white-and-black wrist band that I can throw on, but I'd get arrested if I just wore that. I'm right now contriving ways that I can sneak backstage, but all of them involve thievery or broken windows. I'll have to think harder.



I went to see "Charlie & the Chocolate Factory" last night with Jenny and Simac. It was great! Johnny Depp is so stinkin' talented, not to mention Freddie Highmore. I'm really impressed with this kid. He's only 13 and he's out-acting his grown-up co-stars! I hope he doesn't pull a Drew Barrymore and enter rehab at 15, then pose nude for Playboy and marry Tom Green. But I digress. The Oompaloompa's were amazingly funny, all of whom were played by Deep Roy, in such permutations as the Oompaloompa Therapist, the Oompaloompa Chieftan, the Oompaloompa rock band, and the Oompaloompa narrator who wears a turtleneck sweater under his little blazer! Mrs. Beauregarde played by Missi Pyle is one hard-lookin' woman, but perfectly cast. When Willy Wonka explains that chocolate releases endorphins which gives one the feeling of being in love and she sends him a look and says "Really?" I nearly died. I wanted to kill Mike Teavee the entire time, but it was really funny watching Willy Wonka yell "MUMBLER! I can't understand a word you're saying!" at the little bastard. If I ever have a kid like that, he'll get a smack or two. I can't decide if I like this one better than the original. They're like apples and oranges, and to quote Stephen King, "They're both deeelicious, but in different ways."



On the topics of movies, everyone and their dog should see "A Very Long Engagement" by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, and starring the imcomparable Audrey Tautou. It's the story of a girl whose fiance goes missing after he is sentenced to death for self mutilation at the Somme during WW1. He is thrown over the trench into No Man's Land with four other men who were found guilty of the same crime. But if he were dead, she would know. It's probably the best war film I've ever seen (though I don't watch many) in that it perfectly captures the futility and fear not just of those on the front lines, but of those waiting at home, and it's a really beautiful love story. Matilde (Audrey Tautou) makes little gambles with herself throughout the movie, such as "If the train enters a tunnel or the ticket taker comes before I count to seven, Manech is alive." When Manech departs for the army, Matilde, despite her crippling polio races across her family's farm, repeating "If I make it to the bend before the car, he will come back alive." She makes it to the bend and waits. Just as she is about to turn back, she hears a car approaching. It is the car! But when it approaches, she sees that there is a different person inside. It's not the car after all, and it's the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen on film. Jean-Pierre Jeunet, having already written and directed "Amelie" rocks my world.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If all goes well (and it DAMN WELL BETTER!!) on Septmber 16th, I'll be seeing

and

do things like this:

and this:

and if I'm lucky....this:

get this: FROM THE VERY FREAKIN' FRONT!

Holy GOD! Things better work out! I've been good. I've eaten my vegetables. I drank my milk and did my homework. PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEEEEEASE LET THINGS WORK OUT!!!!

Random Thursday Thoughts

Jenny's started an aquarium, which is beyond cool, and I've made a contribution! It's a "Black Ghost Knife Fish" and is probably the singularly most interesting fish I've ever seen. I went to feed it today and ended up just watching it for ten minutes (and then feeding it). Here's basically what one looks like:





If you look at it from the top, it's head kind of looks like a guinea pig. I'm currently looking for a name for the li'l fella, but nothing's fitting. So I'm accepting suggestions! So far Jay has suggested "Shift" based on the way the fish doesn't swim in a straight line, but rather "shifts" back and forth. Here are the restrictions:

• No "Blacky"
  
• No "Ghosty"
  
• No "Knifey"
  
• No "Fishy"
  

That's just lazy.

=========================================

Here's a conversation I never want to have again. It's not something that happened to me today, or with anyone in specific. It's just really irritating.

1: So-and-so did that thing that she does that really bugs me again, and I went up to her and said "Listen, bitch. If you ever do that again, I'm going to scream. So knock it the fuck off!" [or something like that]

Me: Oh wow! Did you really say that?

1: Well, no.

AAAARRRRRRGGGGGG!!!! If you're that ticked off by whatever it is, just SAY something.

=========================================

Hey Luuuuuuuuuuuke..... LUKE! HEY LUKE! I'm making you a present! Hey! Hey, Luke! Hey! Over here! Come and get your present! C'mere Lukey Lukey Luke! I'm bribing you to come hang out with me! Hey! Dont walk away! Look at me! Over here! (etc)

Flash in the Pan

How much longer are we going to have to hear about Jessica Simpson? I just made the grievous error of downloading a music video for her new cover of "These Boots are Made For Walkin'" thinking to myself, "Hey, sweet! Nancy Sinatra made a video for this song? Awesome!" How wrong and disappointed I was.

Not only was the song a horribly poppy, country tinged car wreck including such awful lines as "Can I get a yee-haw?" she had to go and drag poor Willie Nelson into the mix. When she announces "Willie Nelson everybody!" I was supreme surprised to not see people in the background look at each other and say "who?" Guaranteed that not one of those people even knows who Willie Nelson is. Throughout the video Jessica parades around a well-lit "seedy" bar with a beer bottle on a tray. Clearly the bottle is glued on. No bottle can withstand the number of gyrations that she attempted without trying to commit suicide off the side of that tray. Dear god, let the poor bottle die with dignity! It's soiled enough just by appearing next to Jessica Simpson! The whole time she was so awkwardly bouncing her body around it was like watching a two year old saying "I can count to 10! I can count to 10! I can count to 10! Ready? Watch! Watch! Are you watching? Ready? 1, 2, 4, 7, 10!" And then her audience applauds wildly, screaming for more. "Look at my tits! Look at them! Go on! Check out my ass! It's so sexy! Here, I'll put it in a bikini for you! Look at my tits! They're huge! You want to fuck me, don't you? Well, you can't because I'm married, silly! Tee-hee! LOOK AT MY TITS!!!"

How much longer are people like this going to be celebrated in the media? "Newlyweds"? Give me a break. Let's watch a D-list pseudo-celebrity whine her way through life and then recieve national glorification for it, while her equally pseudo-famous husband shakes his head and wonders why the hell he married her. Oh yeah! So her could sleep with her! It all falls into place now! The most irritating thing is that kids who say that this type of thing is stupid are labelled as being "Just jealous." Right. Everyone should want to be a whiny, spoiled idiot. Oh, but she's not stupid! She just acts that way to get what she wants. And simultaneouly sets the Woman's rights movement back to the stone age. "Ricky, why are you shouting at me? Waaaaaaaahh!"

I'm sure I'll suffer from some sort of backlash at the hands of Jessica's creepy manager/father Joe "Ash-who?" Simpson, who just may be more insufferable than his insipid daughter. He said in a Rolling Stone interview that when September 11th happened it didn't just destroy the Twin Towers, it also destroyed Jessica's career, because no one wanted to listen to pop/dance music. I-....What-.... How-.... HOW CAN HE SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT? Cry me a river and then throw yourself in it. He's one of the most aggressive, off-putting people I've ever heard of. Every time I see anything about him, it's "Jessica's a star! She should be allowed to do anything she wants!", "I'm a father first and a manager second", "She's got double-D's! You can't cover those sucker's up!" Shudder. Shudder shudder SHUDDER!!!

I'm so glad that I don't have cable or any real connection with the pop-music scene, because this is the sort of stuff that I'd be exposed to on a daily, nay, hourly basis. I wish to GOD ON HIGH that this stupid business wasn't all about money so maybe we could get some quality programming on the air instead of this drivel.

Luckily, following this horrible ordeal, I was able to reach out with trembling hands, place a Bjork album in the CD player and lose myself in some real music by a real musician as well as a real woman.

Another Reason that Jenny's #1

Jenny wants to start a bar/theatre/performing space sometime soon, and we were discussing what sort of acts she would house. She said maybe she could book the White Stripes. (Bonus points already) Then she said that to cut costs they could stay with us (straying into "Imagination Land" but still cool), then to cap it off she made up this conversation:

Jack: Hey Meg, remember that weird couple that we stayed with in Canada?

Meg: Shut up, Jack.

I love Jenny.

I don't even know what to say about this.

I'll never ride alone in a car again! Oh lordy lordy!

I fear we've already reached this level of absurdity, but we don't realize it yet.

Go here.

Duke

I've found that there's an affinity in my life for fictional characters who's name is Duke (or "The Duke").

I present two examples:

First, From "Moulin Rouge," possibly the greatest movie villain to come around in decades (And don't give me none of that Darth Vader crap). Every second this guy is on screen is a classic moment.



"I don't like this ending!"

"Oh look my dear! A little frog!"

"It's a little bit funny... this feeling insiiiiooooode."

Second, from the now defunct animated show "The Critic," Duke Phillips, multi-billionaire media industrialist, who built his empire out of a humble fried chicken hut.



"If I were you, little squirrel, I'd be hoarding my nuts. Winter's comin'!"

"Pretty kitty calico, you know that I love you so, with your fur so soft and fair, I would take you anywhere."

"I can do whatever I want! If I want Citizen Kane's last word to be 'schwing' then that's what it's gonna be!"

"That's it! I'll run for president! Drop a whole mess of bombs and put Merle Haggard on the Supreme Court!"

"Well, like most of America's cultural elite I worship Pan, the goat god."

"When I'm dead you can eat my brain, and it will give you power."

"Vote for Duke! Vote for Duke! Vote for Duke!..... VOTE FOR DUKE!!!"

Think positive, think positive, think positive

I'm having a genuinely aggravating day at work today. It'll be nice when people STOP TRYING TO DO MY JOB! I'm perfectly damn capable, so just because I'm away from the desk for a moment doesn't mean that you get to take over. I'm not trying to do your job.

But I'm trying my best to look on the bright side. Today is not the day to be foul, because today is Jenny's birthday! How illustrious! Today is also one of the many days that I'll be working 15 hours, so I don't know how much I'm going to see of my gal today. I think she's out berry picking.

So in the spirit of trying to get my mind off of irritation, and in a effort to fill out one of these quizzes that I love so dear, I present this minogle of junk that won't really tell you anything about me, seeing as I'm a pathological liar. Or am I? I stole it from Luke, who stole it from Sam, who stole it from Angelo who is a maniacal uber-genius and knows Jesus personally. All these question marks feel demanding, and I'm not up to being demanded of, so if this quiz is half-empty, you know why.

? ? ? I N F O R M A T I O N ? ? ?
Name: Andrew
Single or taken: Taken
Sex: "No thanks, I'm dead."
Birthday: January 29
Sign: Aquarius, just like Oprah & Heather Graham
Siblings: 2 x sis, 1 x bro
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Brown
Height: 5’8? It's been a while since I checked.

? ? ? R E L A T I O N S H I P S ? ? ?
Who are your best friends?: Jenny, Steph, Jay
Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?: And HOW! What part of "Taken" didn't you get?

? ? ? F A S H I O N | S T U F F ? ? ?
Where is your favorite place to shop? I've only been there once, but Amoeba Music
Any tattoos or piercings? Not yet!

? ? ? S P E C I F I C S ? ? ?
Do you do drugs? It's almost cooler to not do them.
What kind of shampoo do you use? It comes in a green bottle?
What are you most scared of? Snakes & Sharks
What are you listening to right now? Stupid questions.
Who is the last person that called you? A man who wanted to know about "Butler work"
Where do you want to get married? Outdoors.
How many buddies are online right now? Don't know.
What would you change about yourself? My status as a non-billionaire.

? ? ? F A V O R I T E S ? ? ?
Color: Blue
Food: There are a lot of delicious options with potatoes.
Boys' names: Hey you!
Girls' names: Hey you! The girl!
Subjects in school: I didn't have subjects in school. We were a constitutional democracy.
Animals: Damn, do dogs ever rule.

? ? ? H A V E | Y O U | E V E R ? ? ?
Given anyone a bath: Yuh-huh.
Smoked: nope.
Bungee jumped: heh heh.... you're a funny guy.
Made yourself throw up: No.
Skinny dipped: Yes. Two moons that night.
Ever been in love: YES!
Made yourself cry to get out of trouble: I wish!
Pictured your crush naked: Isn’t that the point?
Actually seen your crush naked: Mmmm-hmmmm.
Cried when someone died: Yes.
Lied: Are there people who haven't lied? Or is tis just the "You need to feel bad about yourself" portion of the quiz?
Fallen for your best friend: Kinda...
Been rejected: Yep.
Rejected someone: Yep.
Used someone: Once in third grade.
Done something you regret: duh...

? ? ? C U R R E N T ? ? ?
Clothes: Black shoes, black socks, navy blue cords, striped dress shirt, watch, ring, and....... a beater!
Music: The Raveonettes
Make-up: I'm not making it up!
Annoyance: People in the place where I work.
Smell: Cookies.
Desktop picture: Van Gogh's Sunflowers
Book you're reading: Lord of the Rings.....still...
CD in player: "Pretty in Black" by the Raveonettes
DVD in player: I don't think there is one in there right now.

? ? ? L A S T | P E R S O N ? ? ?
You touched: Jenny
Hugged: Jenny
You imed: "imed"? If I take the meaning, my dad.
You yelled at: That guy who ran out into traffic.
You kissed: Jenny

? ? ? A R E | Y O U ? ? ?
Understanding: Not today.
Open-minded: I try.
Arrogant: Hope not.
Insecure: On some subjects.
Random: Mostly.
Hungry: Not since lunch.
Smart: Depends
Moody: Especially today.
Hard working: I could stand to work harder.
Organized: I have my own systems that no one else understands... so no.
Healthy: yes!
Shy: sometimes.
Difficult: Try not to be
Attractive: Subjective.
Bored easily: Sometimes.
Obsessed: About what? These are dumb questions.
Angry: Getting there.
Sad: sometimes.
Happy: As often as I can be.
Hyper: No.......
Trusting: I love those around me.

? ? ? W H O | D O | Y O U | W A N N A ? ? ?
Kill: Ben Mulroony.
Slap: Ben Mulroony.
Get really wasted with: Tom Waits.
Talk to offline: Jenny
Talk to online: Luke
Sex it up with: a) That's a dumb question, b) Jenny, and c) Screw off. None of your business.

? ? ? R A N D O M ? ? ?
In the morning I am: Asleep
All you need is: more time.
Love is: a many splendored thing
I dream about: Very strange things, lately.
Sexual preference: Jenny
What do you notice first in the sex you're into: Is this going to make my leg cramp up?

? ? ? W H I C H | I S | B E T T E R ? ? ?
Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi
Flowers or candy: Flowers.
Tall or short: Tort... or shall.

? ? ? W H O ? ? ?
Makes you laugh the most: Jenny
Makes you smile: Jenny
Gives you a funny feeling when you see him/her: Jenny

? ? ? D O | Y O U | E V E R ? ? ?
Sit on the internet all night waiting for that someone special to im you: Not for a while.
Save conversations: No.
Wish you were a member of the opposite sex: I have.
Wish you were younger: No. If I was younger, I would just be placing restrictions on myself.
Cried because someone said something to you: I don't think so.

? ? ? N U M B E R ? ? ?
Of times I have had my heart broken: I don't think ever.
Of hearts I have broken: Hopefully none.
Of guys I've kissed: at least 2... probably more.
Of girls I've kissed: Don't know... do relatives count?
Of CD's I own: So so many.
Of scars on my body: 2 or 3
Of things that I regret: I don't brood on these constantly.

? ? ? Y O U R | T H O U G H T S ? ? ?
I know: Why men have nipples.
I want: to have finicial security without having to work for it.
I have: low patience right now.
I wish: Jenny a Happy birthday!
I hate: arrogance.
I fear: working 53 hours in 4 days.
I hear: people moving about.
I search: For things on the internet using Google.
I wonder: if I'm still technically doing the same job they hired me for.
I love: Jenny

Well, that's a nice note to end on at least. Happiest of birthdays!

Take, Take, Take

Stolen from Luke, who stole it from Sam, who I don't know.

Choose a band/or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band:
The White Stripes

Are you female or male:
"The Same Boy You've Always Known"

Describe yourself:
"I'm Finding It Harder To Be A Gentleman"

How do some people feel about you:
"You're Pretty Good Looking"

How do you feel about yourself:
"As Ugly As I Seem"

Describe where you want to be:
"Little Room"

Describe what you want to be:
"I Want To Be The Boy To Warm Your Mother's Heart"

Describe how you live:
"Wasting My Time"

Describe how you love:
"Fell In Love With A Girl" -or- "It's True That We Love One Another"

Share a few words of wisdom:
"Why Can't You Be Nicer To Me"

The Young/Old Man & The Raven Mural

So here are some ideas I've had lately. One came in a dream when I was sleeping in the spare room because two girls were in my bed and I couldn't adequately stretch out. I had just eaten a bag of "Hickory Sticks" and a "Crispy Crunch."

1) A young man lives in a house with a large tree in the yard. One day, he goes outside with a nailgun and shoots a nail into the tree for no other reason than to shoot something. He laughs about his good aim and returns to his house. The next day he looks out the window and realizes that all the leaves on the tree have turned yellow and are starting to fall off. He also realizes that he's experiencing great pain in his hands and joints. This pain corresponds to that of arthritis. The young man shrugs it off, takes some Asprin, and goes about his day. The next morning, he looks out his window to see the tree has lost all it's leaves and branches are beginning to fall off. The man also notices that his eyesight is becoming dim, and his hair is falling out. Not concerned, the man puts some Rogaine on his bald head, and buys some contact lenses for his feeble, cataract-infested eyes. The next morning, the tree has split in two, and the young man is now an old man who cannot walk without the aid of a cane, cannot see, cannot hear, wrinkles and liver spots adorn his body, cancer has sprung up in many of his internal organs, he has trouble breathing, but he still laughs at his good aim. The next day the old man is dead. The next day, the old man's house crumbles. The next day, the tree is alive again.

2) This is the one that came in a dream. It was of a huge mural painted on the wall of my old public school in Peterborough. A large raven was depicted attempting to peck at a human hand, but a very large, square diamond ring on the finger of the hand was preventing the raven from doing any damage. Instead it was slowly breaking it's beak. A person in the dream told me that "maybe that should be a lesson to me." There are so many ways to interpret it that my head is spinning. I don't know why, but I can't think of it without thinking of George Orwell's 1984, and the symbol of humanity which is a boot stomping on a human face, forever. Why was such an intense image painted on the side of a public/elementary school, unless it's trying to instill some sense of awe or fear into children? Shudder. And yet, it's hopeful at the same time. It all depends on who is the crow, and who the hand belongs to. Does the ring represent wealth? Or a callousness towards outside influences? Perhaps the crow is passion, and we're dulling ourselves to passion through material things. Or perhaps the hand is that of the upper class, and the poor are the crow, vainly attempting to change a rigid class system. I don't remember, but what if the crow was perched on the wrist, or on one of the other fingers? That would suggest that the raven is dependant on the hand or even is a product of the hand. To quote Bill Murray in The Royal Tennenbaums, "How intresting. How bizzare!"

I don't know yet. Noodle on it for a while, I guess.

That's it. Go play in the puddles.

Stops short, yells "Whoa!", then falls over

I just realized I havent posted any pictures and very few links recently! I must not let the joy die! So here is a picture/link that will take you to a completely random site of my choosing.



Look out! It's Ol' Wanup! And he's gotten into the horseradish again!

Aww, pickleshoot...

I had a fairly interesting/profound thought a minute ago, but then a bunch of stuff happened and I forgot what it was. If I can remember, I'll post it.

Damn! This is why I need to carry a pen and paper with me at all times.

That reminds me of my friend Morgan the super genius from high school who needs to carry pens with her at all times in case she finally figures out that equation she's been working out in her head. This has happened in the middle of busy intersections in the middle of a conversation. We'll be walking along, talking about something and she'll stop dead in her tracks and yell "Whoa!" then grab a pen out of her hair and start scrawling numbers on her arm before they escape her mind.

And then the cars start honking because the light has changed and in the middle of the street there's a wild haired madwoman frantically tattooing her arm with formulae while her befuddled friend looks apologetically on.

The funny thing is that when she stops short to yell "Whoa!" she'll correct herself and almost fall over. It's happened before.

I wonder what's happening with Morgan. Last I recall she had won an obscene amount of scholarship moolah from Queens and was studying to become some sort of Nobel Prize winner. I hope she's happy.

The Bored Rag

La la la
There's nothing to do
there's a buncha bastard kids
and I wanna go to sleep

Oh why can't I go to sleep
Or at least go home
I could be helping move my friend in across the hall

I've got the workin-at-the-art-gallery-for-seven-hours-then-running-across-town-to-call-bingo-for-seven-more-hours-bluuuuuuuesss.

Do do do
Where is that Jenny
She's quite attractive
If I wasn't here I could be helping her help our friend move in across the hall

Shim-sham-a-lam
bop-a-de-boo
Gotta do something or my mind will turn to goo

I've got the there's-nothin-to-do-and-I'm-not-allowed-to-leave-the-front-desk-even-though-I'd-really-like-to bluuuuuuuuuuesss.

Rhymes are for suckers
"I am the Walrus" didn't rhyme
Look where it got Lennon
New York, New York

I've got the I'm-not-really-sure-whether-or-not-"I-am-the-Walrus"-really-rhymed-or-whether-it-followed-a-more-traditional-rhyme-scheme-structure Bluuuuuuuuuuuesss.

Ooohhhhhh........yyeeeeeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh.

Free Writing 2

"You know the deal," she said and smiled.

He didn't smile. He only reached deep into the playground of his heart and trashed the swingset like some teen hoods might have done in the fifties. "Do you love me?" he asked to no one in particular. She took this to be her, and answered.

"I love things about you."

"Who asked you?"

"Didn't you?"

"Fuck off."

"Alright."

That was the last time they spoke. She gathered her pretentious purse and her garish keys and headed out the door on twenty-seven inch heels. Walking down Main St. she came upon a small shop run by an elderly Armanian man with no patience. She didn't go in.

Meanwhile, he was playing backgammon against himself, and was predictably losing. He thought to himself "If I'm losing, that must mean that I'm winning." Then he thought "But I'm losing more than I'm winning." Then he thought "My name is Claude Rains, but I can't ever hope to become invisible."

She forgot herself. Where was she? What was she doing? Why had she left? She turned around, but became dizzy and fell. She fell down a set of stairs into the subway which greatly inconvenienced the paramedics who had to come down to get her. She was taken to the hospital emergency ward and was asked who her next of kin was. She told them Claude was, though they had never been related.

Claude was in the shower when the phone rang. As such, he didn't answer it.

"Shit," she thought, and then said out loud. This was ridiculous and not to be tolerated. She was convinced that she had been sexually molested by the doctors while under the influence of narcotic pain killers, and so only trusted the nurses to care for her, though they lacked the proper training.

Claude awoke from his nap and set about trashing the apartment. He hated everything he saw, from his favourite lamp to his most hated broom. He smashed the windows, tore at the carpet, and broke the piano in two. Fourteen federal marshalls were called in, but they decided that there was no threat to national security and so went to see if the liquor store was open yet. They got shitfaced and attacked an old lady and her grand-daughter who were out walking the pomeranians. Claiming that the women were terrorists, the marshalls got off scot-free.

She forgot the nurse's name, which was embarrasing, seeing as only moments before she had declared her undying trust in the nurse, who's name was Maxine. "Max!" She shouted. "I fucking hate you Max!"

"That's fine, dear," said Maxine, reapplying her bandages and moistening her head cloth.

"I don't understand it all, Max," She said. "How did it happen?"

"You fell, sweetie." said Maxine

"Max! You're not listening! Where the fuck is Claude?"

"They still haven't been able to get a hold of him. He must be out."

"That asshole never goes out!" she screamed, weeping. Tears ran down her face with the force of a torrent. Maxine patiently wiped them away. "Oh god, I hope nothing happened to him."

"I'm sure he's fine, honey."

Claude was sitting in the basement masturbating and fighting with himself. "Stop it" he said.

"Why?"

"You're only making it worse."

"How?"

"You need to stop thinking about her when you jerk off."

"Why?"

"Because you jerk off a lot, which means that you're thinking about her a lot."

"Fuck off. I'm almost done."

"You'll never be done."

She sat up in her bed and screamed for Maxine, who came rushing along the corridor as quickly as she could manage.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You had a bad fall."

"Where are my fucking legs?"

Maxine had to pause. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, sweetie."

"My fucking legs! You cut them off, didn't you, you fucked up whore!"

"Now there's no need for that kind of language!" said Maxine. "You've still got your legs. They're just under your blanket. Now stop bein' a damn fool and don't call me again unless you really need me."

She fell back against her pillow and wept. 'Why am I here, Max?"

"Because no one's come to claim you yet. Have you had any luck in remembering your name?"

"Fuck off, Max," she said weakly and fell asleep.

Back at the apartment Claude was trying to play Clue, but he was two players short, and it was a really easy win. He hated Ms. Scarlet. Probably because she reminded him of her. It was really unfortunate, on a cosmic level that the two of them ended up in each other's lives.

In the end, he would never go to the hospital to pick her up. She and Maxine grew old together until Maxine retired and moved to Florida. She never remembered her name, but she picked a new one for herself. Seeing as it wasn't her real name there's no need to write it down here.

Titles escape me.

It's been a few days and a lot has happened. Here's the rundown, and a few musings along the way;

It's Canada Day today, but financial obligations have prohibited me from purchasing a large quantity of beer, and occupational obligations have prohibited me from going to the beach to drink this non-existant quantity of beer. I'm not even particularly fond of the brewed hops and barley, but it is Canada Day after all. So what does this mean? Well, for one thing it's three days before Independence Day. And right now some American is saying "Yeah, but our holiday started ninty years, three-hundred-and-sixty-two days before you! Yes! America rules!" To all them, I say gaze upon this and then tell me how great you think you are.

Jenny & I have switched our bedroom into our spare room and vice versa. This involved a lot of grunting, silent cursing, and a few strained muscles in my wrists of all places. But now we have a slightly smaller (ie/ cozier) boudoir, and a "parlour"/"sitting room", both of which are quite disorganized at the moment. But a cool place to hang out nonetheless. Also finalized was the purchase of some speakers and a reciever so that at last our record player may function. And man, can that thing ever function.

I went to see "Cinderella Man" last night with the gang. I can't really understand why it's not more successful. Stephie told me that theatres in the States are offering people their money back if they didn't like the show. I don't know why they wouldn't! It was genuinely exciting to watch. Paul Giamatti stole the show entirely. Best line: "Send him back to the goddamn Ozarks!" Worst line: "You're the champion of my heart." Watch the scene where Renee Zellwegger (aka Ol' Squinty) tells Russell Crowe that she supports his decision to fight and I think you can actually see her socks fly off from so much acting. Very worth it.

Well, the sad news for the post is that sometime the night before last, little Memo Bis passed away. Informed sources tell me that it may have been kidney problems, which would explain why she constantly drank so much water. The last time I saw her she was sitting in the corner of her cage, and she stood up to give me a kiss on the finger. As we turned out the lights she was still in the corner. I found her in the morning, laying as if asleep by her food dish. I hope her passing was not painful in any way, and I wish I had been there with her, in case she was afraid. I love and miss her dearly. She was as fine a pet as any I could have hoped for, and I hope I was a good owner to her.

I need to move on, lest I start crying again. The other people at work today might wonder why I'm blubbering at the front desk. I'll listen to some somber French music and feel the lump in my throat grow and grow. Goodbye Memo. Truly, I hardly knew ye.