It's just one of those things...

"I like money better than people. People can so rarely be exchanged for goods and/or services!"

Willow, immitating Anya
Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I just can't help myself. This made me giggle, and when something makes me giggle, I just want to share it. I just can't help myself. I'm generous that way. Anyway, if you love Beck, and you should, click on the picture. You can go visit him.

There's not a whole lot going on lately, hence the lame posts (Not that Beck is lame, of course) but I just can't help myself and this feeling that I should post. For my adoring public, of course

We're going to be heading home soon. Cosmo's big into surprises, though, so I'm not really allowed to say when, exactly. Which is okay, 'cause I don't really know myself.

Once we're home and Cosmo's taught me how to get into my free webspace, I'm going to post my friend's Corey Haim story so anyone who wants to can read it. It's one hell of a read, so I think it needs to be shared. There will, of course, be a nominal fee of about $100 or so, but it's really worth it, I swear.

Also, all our pictures are on our computer at home, so you'll be getting to know us and our friends a lot better in the coming days. Well, at least from a visual point of view. (Ha! "visual point of view.")

*gasp* Oh. My. God. Seriously, I think I just wet my pants. I'd heard about this ages ago, but then forgot about it. These people know their market - Labrynth fans tend to love Henson and Neil Gaiman, and typically, if you love Neil Gaiman, you also love Dave McKean. Wow. Never thought I'd say this, so everyone, take note: I CAN'T WAIT TILL JANUARY!! Also, if you're ever bored, the Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean sites are great ways to get your ya-ya's out.

I would like a Neil Gaiman of my very own. He could teach me all there is to learn about creating prose out of the mundane. We all have aspirations. Mine, apparently, is to hide many famous and clever, or cleverly famous, or famously clever people in various boxes around my house. I hope I remember to clearly mark them...

Where is my home...

The raven cawed from the edge of the clearing...
"Hey," said Shadow. "Hugnin or Muninn, or whoever you are."
The bird turned, head tipped, suspiciously, on one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.
"Say 'Nevermore,'" said Shadow.
"Fuck you," said the raven.

-Neil Gaiman
American Gods

Feeling slightly meh, today. Meh. Such a great word to describe lower than content, but higher than low. I'll get over it, it's mostly just home sickness and this feeling of less than complete control. It's hard being a confirmed pedestrian in Houston. Going for walks here feels like you've got a target on your back. It's also hard to not partake in weekly brunch and gossip sessions. "Meh" is the perfect word for how I'm feeling today.

So, in order to make it light, I'd like to thank Mr. Confirmed Gamer. I'll not be suggesting M:tG - It was a generous suggestion, but a little too much of a dangerous thing, if you get what I mean. We already don't get any sleep, and I'm sure that introducing something like that into our relationship would make us crazier than crazy. Also, I'm battling the lable of "Geek Queen" in my group of friends already, just because I collect Neil Gaiman graphic novels. I mean, Neil Gaiman's a genius, so I don't feel too badly about it, but it's such a harsh lable for such an innocent pursuit of perfection (That's right, I called Neil Gaiman perfect. Deal with it!)

Okay, so my last post I talked about Garden State. I am standing by how much everyone needs to see this movie. Zach Braff may be my new personal hero. And I love indie films that are about something and yet somehow not preachy. It's a little bit of happy. For instance, don't see Swimming Pool unless you want to do big time internet research afterwards. I could tell you about it, but I won't.

Now, about Garden State. With the exception of why Largeman's all screwed up, I can completely understand all the how's of it. It's just such an easy to relate to screwed-up-edness. And for those of you who've seen it, the title of this post is accidental - I didn't realize I would be posting about Garden State again so soon.

Another recently seen positively awesome indie film would have to be Saved! Macaulay Culkin's over his too-cute childhood, thank god. Just such a wicked movie. And, not preachy, despite being about religion. Actually, it's more about religion vs. spirituality - Very much my type of argument. Plus, Michael Stipe was Producer on it, and most things Michael Stipe are good. Yay Michael.

After having seen Garden State and how beautiful yet tiny Natalie Portman is, and after having seen Without a Paddle and how cute and slick (Yes, I said slick) Seth Green is, I've made a decision. My decision involves them and any other "little" actors available: I'd like to collect them, and possibly mate them, and see how many cute/little/beautiful children we can get out of the matches. I'm now taking applications for babysitters. After Saved! and Party Monsters, I'm thinking about bringing Macaulay Culkin into the mix. It's all about the talent, baby.

So there. I've talked about my new recent obsessions, and Cosmo fixed me a giant bowl of ice cream with Reeses' shell sauce. I feel a little more human and a bit closer to home. This Blogger thing was a good idea, after all

Oh, and one more thing: There is nothing wrong with naked girations. If more people did it, what a wonderful world this would be.

Everyone's a critic.

Late nights and early mornings...

...It's cruel unusual punishment
To kiss fingerprinted skin...

- The Wrong Man Was Convicted
Barenaked Ladies

I have decided to try and educate myself by memorizing quotes. You are my captive audience. If you are my audience at all.

It's going to be hell when we get home and I have to get myself a job. Especially if my inconsiderate employers expect me to keep regular hours. Yesterday we went to bed at 7 am. Hey, I never said we were smart, I only said I wished I were a wit. I've also always said I wanted to be so famous I could quote myself. At least I've finally gotten one of my wishes. Either way, there's a huge difference.

It's been a while since I've had lots of links in my posts, so look out, kids. It's time for another link-heavy blog.

The good thing about going to bed that early/late is that I've discovered the Cherub Wings. They're really sweet. Because I went to Catholic school, I've always been wary of Flanders' types, most specifically because I've known plenty of people who felt that Hallowe'en and clowns were "evil." This show, however, is cute. So this morning I learned that even I have to get over myself sometimes. Also, I learned that Flanders has quite the evangelical following, which means The Simpsons really does have something for everyone. Except my mother.

I've lost Cosmo to yet another video game. Last week was this really terrible (yet admittedly funny) game called "Postal 2." The final level features the apocalypse, complete with raining cats. It was... Well, you can look at the website yourself. It's just that I never thought I'd be grateful for his war games. The new one's called "Call of Duty." WWII. At least it's not glorifying anything. Actually, it's a cross between that and his new (gag) sports game. There's got to be a support group for game widows. As Cosmo just pointed out, I should be grateful he doesn't have the online adapter for his PS2. And I actually am.

This was just ridiculous amounts of fun. I'm completely serious. Again, I must learn to get over myself. We went there because it was next to the theatre where we saw Without a Paddle. Not typically my type of movie. I mean, I would've seen it eventually, 'cause I like this kind of movie on video, but I rarely see these in the theatre. In fact, we only went tonight because it has Seth Green and Cosmo's been begging me for a silly movie. Seth Green, oh, how I adore him. The movie was cute. Mentions San Dimas, for anyone old or dorky enough to have memorized even a little of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.

Actually, we've seen quite a few good movies lately. Eurotrip, (On video) which is totally one of those movies I prefer on DVD. We also saw De-Lovely, which is probably one of the best bio-pic type movies I've seen in ages. It's about Cole Porter.

The best, though, had to be Garden State. I'll probably talk about it more later, but for now we'll just deal with this: It was written by Zach Braff, the guy who plays the "narrator" on Scrubs. Too funny. I mean, really and truly. And he's been very in-touch with the marketing of it. I use the term "marketing" loosely, though, 'cause it's a Fox SearchLight movie. Read Zach's blog. Read it!! Then see it. You must see it!!

Why Cosmo and I shouldn't be allowed to stay up late...

Me: (On hearing that one of the Williams' sisters was participating in the Olympics for the American team) I thought that the atheletes had to be non-professional.

Cosmo: That wasn't ever a rule. It was more of a guidline -

Me: And they're not pirates?

(I can't help myself. Pirates of the Caribbean is definately one of the best movies of all time, and I'll quote it whenever I get a chance. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, allow me: "And secondly, you must be a pirate for the Pirate's Code to apply, and you're not.")

Cosmo: Yes. And also, it was just a "guideline."

(Cosmo's equally guilty: "And thirdly, the Code is more what you'd call "guidelines" than actual rules. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Turner.") Anyway, most countries don't have a lot of professional athletes in lots of sports.

Me: Good thing America has lots of professional athletes in lots of sports, though, right?

Cosmo: Yes.

Me: That's tantamount to cheating!

Cosmo: You just wanted to say "tantamount."

Me: I just wanted to say "cheating."

Good thing we love eachother. I mean, yeah, he's sitting next to me calling me dork and pointing out that I just like to call the American team cheaters, but it's love. I swear.

So, anyhow, if you've ever looked at the site before, you know that the look has changed. It's taken me nearly a week of research, where I didn't learn anything. I finally decided to just jump in and take care of it myself (While badly mutilating someone's pre-made code, thank you very much) Anyway, I've figured it out, now, and since Cosmo has yet to post, this is my super cute girlie board until future notice. I'll probably get sick of it, but I might not. And I can change it at the drop of a hat, now that it's taken me the better part of a night to figure out what I was doing. I'll also be trying to add some more nifty stuff later on, so, you know, if you're visiting now, you should keep visiting.

The Olympics are making my crap sleep pattern even more crap. Yay global unity!!

This would be so cool...

I'm serious. I think this is wonderful. I know, I know, the articles all say that there's no definitive proof that John the Baptist was ever actually there, but - and I am aware how bad this will sound if you don't hear me out - like fairies and Santa Claus, I insist on believing in these things. I was heartbroken when James' ostuary was "proven" fake.

As for comparing the coffin of Jesus' brother or a cave where John the Baptist possibly hid out to Santa Claus and fairies, I know that sounds blasphemous, naughty, or silly. Whatever you'll call it, these things all have something in common. Suspension of disbelief.

It's required for all kinds of things, including getting out of bed some mornings. Don't tell me you never have those days when your alarm goes off and you lie there contemplating the horrors you know are on their way for the day. And somehow, someway, you find the strength and resolution to get out of bed and face said horrors. Suspension of disbelief. "The dentist won't drill too far this time," "My boss will call in sick for the next six weeks," or even "Michael Jackson's just as in touch with reality as the next guy." Suspension of disbelief, kids.

Hey, at least I can admit it.

So, in case you've been living under a rock, the Olympics started this weekend. I know, how original, mentioning the Olympics right now. I'm creative, that's why you love me. Anyway, I really can't stand them too much, for reasons I won't go into here, most of which revolve around my being Canadian, naturally. I may start a cranky rant sometime over the next two weeks, but I wouldn't count too much on it.

This is all a long way of bringing you to Cosmo's first "official" contribution to the blog. This is what I get for not paying attention: Not only is table tennis a sport, but so is race walking. Not speed walking. That's what old people do in malls before they open each morning. This is a sport, people.

This just ads fuel to my idea that not only is there a terrible conspiracy involved in the Olympics, but also that they didn't have enough sports to make summer games commercially viable. I'm just saying.

I still haven't read the book, but if this woman's disgruntlement is anything to go by, I'll be borrowing it from Princess Rachel when I return home. It's a blog-style version of Eats, Shoots & Leaves. I'm definately the elipses offender, but at least I'm aware of it.

So, if anyone out there is paying attention, please stand up and wave. I'm trying to initiate my mother into the joys of blogging, as she has lots to say on all kinds of topics and definately needs a forum to get herself started. Hiya, mumsy!!

And, in regards to my belief in fairies and Santa and the like, I'd like to bring some J.M. Barrie into your life.

"You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, `I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."

And so I still believe.

Finally...

Happy Friday the 13th, everybody. I'm rather fond of the fact that cavemen couldn't count past twelve. If they didn't have toes, couldn't they have found rocks? Leaves? I'm sure there was something count-worthy in their world.

It is interesting, though, that 13 represented women and 12 men. Sadly, 12 won over 13 way back then and the numbers haven't ever really been equal since (Heh, equal)... It's tragic what a recurring theme this is thoughout history.

Teresa Heinz Kerry said, in July, "... Freedom is... a sacred gift, sanctified by those who have lived it and those who have died defending it. My right to speak my mind, to have a voice, to be what some have called ”opinionated,” is a right I deeply and profoundly cherish. And my only hope is that, one day soon, women — who have all earned their right to their opinions — instead of being called opinionated, will be called smart and well-informed, just like men."

Having been raised to be "opinionated," I know exactly what she's talking about. My brother and I, probably equally intelligent, give or take a few small differences, for example. He's considered "clever, witty" and so on. Despite the similarities in our senses of humour, I tend to be called a "bitch" or "smart ass." While it's true that sometimes the off button in my head doesn't work properly (You'll see more of this in posts to come,) it doesn't make me less smart. It makes me quick and very able to think on my toes. But in a woman, it's not an asset. And that's where this whole system of thought is wrong.

It's tragic that in the year 2004, we judge "feminism" by how many women have infiltrated "men's clubs." Two of nine members on the United States Supreme Court are women. Nice, but should we have to look at it that way?

I'm not saying down with men, god knows I adore men. It's just that occasionally I long for a matriarchal society. Of course, having a bunch of women in charge may not help, but at least I'd be on the upswing of financial success. I've seen it in action. Highly "fair minded" companies promoting no one who doesn't have a penis. In all things we were equal, except that a lot of the people who did the work were female and a lot of the people who got promoted were men. Or family. But that's something else altogether.

Oddly enough, my department at said company was located on the 13th, and therefore 14th, floor: fear and the cure.

"The disastrous dinner for 13, 12 apostles plus Jesus Christ, included Judas Iscariot -- the 13th apostle to arrive and the first to leave. Iscariot ultimately betrayed Christ and gave rise to the pox on dinners of 13. Biblical interpretations vary, but some say the next day, a Friday, Christ was crucified, according to the illustrated encyclopedia." My many years in Catholic school makes me giggle and yet leads me to curiosity at this. We Catholics surely are a superstitious lot.

There's good news, though, fashionably speaking: Lucky 13 but sadly the positive spin is so rarely taken. And wouldn't you love to have the number to this catering company? And even Professor Trelawney mentions the fear of thirteen, but she's a kook. Kind of like me.

Where I want to be...

It's called Parkerfest. It's very much where I want to be this October.


And I want to be wearing this. Bless eBay. In all it's evilness.

I know, I know. Now you know what Parkerfest is, so you're wondering who Parker was. Dorothy Parker was a poet, writer and member of the Algonquin Round Table. I've always wanted to be a great wit, myself. And a flapper. I know, I know, wrong era.

Seriously, who asked to be born in the 70's, anyway? And the very butt end, no less. I mean, it was all well and good during the grunge days, but they're over and nothing's been the same since. Yes, I can say that with a good, healthy sense of irony, thank you very much.


Which Grunge Band Are You?
Dig me.