Fifty Shades of Hey, Why Don't You Mind Your Own Damn Business Until You Read It Yourself?

So I had an interesting conversation with my new hairdresser this weekend. It was about books. As some of you may know, I LOVE to read. I was born loving to read. My favourite book at the age of 2 was Hiawatha and the Bear Hunt and I would follow my mother around the house all day, waiting for her to sit down so I could plop the book in her lap, insisting that she read it. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. Trying to be clever, and save herself time, she would attempt to turn two or three pages at a time, but I was cleverer, and would make her go back, because you just can't skip pages in a book. It's a rule. (Clearly OCD even at the age of 2. There really was no hope). My first box set of books was the Little House on the Prairie series, which I believe I received from my parents when I was about 5 or 6 years old, and I never looked back. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't a NERDY kid. I was totally cool (just like I am now). I read all the cool books, like the Babysitter's Club, and the Sweet Valley series, but I also read the Lord of the Rings at the age of 10 and by 13 was well into Stephen King and memoirs and poetry (that was right around the time my existential angst was starting, so poetry was an important accessory).

Needless to say, I've never understood how people could NOT love books; it's just been such a part of my existence for as long as I can remember. I can't live without them. So when my hairdresser boldly announced on Friday (let's call her....Katie to protect her privacy) that she had only ever read ONE book in her life, I was thankful for both my social work and mediocre acting skills, so that she couldn't see my shock and disdain, not because I was so worried about her feelings, but mostly because she was holding a pair of scissors. She said she'd read Of Mice and Men, because she'd had to read it for school. I nodded and pretended to look impressed, which was at least a little easier to do when she proudly told me that she had gone to the bookstore this week and bought two books: Steve Harvey's "Act Like A Lady Think Like A Man: What Men Really Think About Love, Relationships, Intimacy, and Commitment", and "Fifty Shades of Grey". She then told me that she was too ashamed to be seen reading either of them on the subway.



This then prompted me to tell her that I am currently reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and enjoying it. For those of you who don't know, it's classified as 'Erotica' and is basically a fictional novel about a 22 yr old woman who gets into a submissive-dominant relationship with a 27 yr old man. People have all kinds of opinions about this book; interestingly, a lot of these people haven't even read it. It's these opinions that are the exact reason why someone like Katie is ashamed to be seen reading it.

First of all, I've read some hoopla on the Internet that this book is anti-feminist due to the submissive nature of the lead character's relationship with her partner, Christian Grey. Now, I'm a feminist. And by feminist, for those of you who are unclear on the definition, I mean someone who believes in true equity (not equality, there's a difference, look it up, it's an important distinction), fairness and justice for everyone (including men). And I actually disagree with this argument. I actually think compared to some of the pop culture reading out there (Twilight, anyone?) this book actually describes a more equal relationship than many. OKAY WAIT. HEAR ME OUT.

For anyone planning on reading it (MINI SPOILER ALERT)I don't want to give too much away, but in the book, Ana, the protagonist, is in love with Christian Grey, and when he explains the nature of the relationship he would like to be in with her, she willingly chooses to enter into a consensual, dominant-submissive relationship with him. He ensures that she is completely knowledgeable about everything that this will entail and they even sign a contract. This is more equitable that most non-BDSM relationships. (I'm not suggesting that all partners in all relationships should sign contracts, but I think it's hard to argue that someone is being degraded when they have knowingly and willingly signed a contract to play a certain role in a relationship). (MAJOR SPOILER ALERT) Granted, the book does end with her curing him of his need for "dysfunctional" relationships, which I imagine the BDSM community would take issue with, but hey, baby steps. Mainstream literature has adopted a book about BDSM. That's a start.

My second point is that we live in a society in which, despite the rampant sexuality that we are bombarded with, we are pretty uptight about SEX itself. And in mainstream culture, we're pretty conservative. Anything that deviates from the norm tends to be fairly taboo and frowned upon, which is why some people tend to have somewhat of a reaction to people reading a book about sex on the subway. Why is that? People read books about murder on the subway. Murder is awful. Why are we cool with seeing that everywhere? Sex is a natural human activity, a need, in fact, programmed into us, otherwise we'd all just die out. Yet people are ashamed to acknowledge that they are reading a novel that's all about sex. I had a conversation a couple of weeks ago where someone asked me: "Can I ask you why you are reading that?" I refused to be ashamed of my choice of books and responded with "Because it's entertaining", which it is.

I think it's great that a book that falls under the genre of "Erotica" is planted firmly on all of the bestseller shelves in bookstores and that women are excited about reading it. Is it pretty "vanilla" when compared to people who are hardcore into that scene? Yes, I would imagine so. But is it a step in the right direction of bringing things that are outside of the norm into mainstream culture? I'd like to think so. And plus, it's getting people like Katie, who has read ONE BOOK in all of her twenty-something years, excited about reading. So let's not shame her into being afraid to admit that she's reading it.

So anyone who wants to judge people for reading it, read it yourself first before you start throwing stones. You might actually find you enjoy it.

Why My Life Should Be A Musical

So I just got home from watching the Tony Awards with my friend Kelly, and the opening number was basically all about why if life were like theatre, it wouldn't suck so much. I enjoyed this, for many reasons. One, because it was being sung by Neil Patick Harris, who I would marry if a) he were straight, b) there were any chance in hell we would ever cross paths in life, and c) I believed in marriage, but I'm getting away from my main point here. Secondly, it rang true for me, because I've pretty much always believed that my life should be a musical. If you ask most people who know me, they might inform you, sarcastically or otherwise, that if you have to spend any length of time around me it sounds like my life already IS a musical, since the noise filter between my brain and my mouth tends to malfunction and I more often than not burst into song throughout the day. This is not my fault, because my brain has been affixed with a feature where any random sentence automatically reminds me of a song which I am immediately compelled to sing (see above re: broken noise filter). This habit of randomly breaking out into song is occasionally accompanied by periodically busting out a couple of dance moves, my favourite being tap, primarily because this also makes noise, and is therefore the most fun. At least, more fun for me. I have a sneaking suspicion this may just be more obnoxious for others. BUT......

This would all be wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy cooler if I actually had a CAST and pit orchestra to back me up. And a costume crew. Because lets face it. Cash is low right now. And my wardrobe sucks these days. So this is what I'm envisioning.....

I haven't quite worked out the title of the show yet.....Therapy the Musical? Not a big seller, I don't think. I'll have to work on that. There will definitely be a narrator. It'll basically be a guy who will put a voice to the running commentary that goes on in my head all day that is essentially internally narrating everything I'm doing ANYWAY. I'm assuming I'm not the only person that has this stream of consciousness business going on....which is why I'm admitting to it right now. This is common, right? Bueller....? Bueller...? Anyway, I've decided to hire Alan Cumming as my narrator, because he did such a fabulous job in that role in Reefer Madness, so he will follow me around all day, inserting his dry wit and sarcastic commentary here and there. It will be brilliant.

Musical style, I'm thinking '80s pop/rock, which means: costumes? 80's! The ensemble cast is going to be quite large, because I have big plans for the dance numbers, which will, of course, be plentiful. There's going to be a number called "Damn This Dufferin Bus!" which will involve a lot of awesome choreography on bus seats and some bus pole-dancing. (Genevieve, I see a role for you in this number, since we've already rehearsed this on the subway......)

Now, before you start thinking that the show is going to be all fluff and nonsense, I want you to know that it's going to have it's heavy, serious moments. There will be a political piece too, like the scene where a crowd of us storm city hall French Revolution/Bastille-style and force Rob Ford to admit that he is completely incompetent as mayor and agree to step down. That musical number will be called "Free of Ford" or something like that. It's all still in the early stages.

I really think I might be on to something here. And I really do think my life would be way awesomer (yeah that's right. That's a word. Look it up. It's in the urban dictionary.) if it was a musical.


UPDATE: I just realized something that is, sadly, going to be a problem. THERE AREN'T POLES ON BUSES. Duh. Well, fine. There will just have to be 2 TTC musical numbers, because there clearly needs to be pole-dancing in this show. So a subway routine it is. Maybe one called: "Please Stand Clear of Doors".....or "Mind the Gap"......

Sometimes All You Can Do Is Buy Someone A Frappuccino.

Well, true to form, it has officially been more than a year since I last posted anything on this blog. I have decided to abandon my old game of trying to use Shakespeare quotes as blog titles that relate to the topic of my posts, mainly because I'm really not as well-versed in Shakespeare as you might think, and quite frankly I'm out of quotes. And, well, people grow and change, and I've moved on. Out with the old, and in the with the new! (Is that a Shakespeare quote? That would be really awesome if it was....Google says no. Damn.) Moving on.


Even though I wanted to revive (Yes, revive it AGAIN. I feel like this poor blog is like a zombie that has be re-animated repeatedly by some sort of cruel voodoo wizard. Oh wait....that wizard would be me.....)this blog as a place to write funny, witty anecdotes about my life, I've decided to write a not-so-funny post tonight about a really moving encounter I had this evening that made me really stop and think. And so I wanted to share. I'll get to the funny stuff some other day.

Earlier this evening:

I'm waiting for a prescription to be filled at Shoppers, so I decide to head over to Starbucks to get a smoothie while I wait. Sitting cross-legged on the ground just outside is a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, reading a book, with a sign in front of her that says "Too smart to steal, too proud to hook", with an upturned baseball cap in front of that with a bit of small change in it. As I pass in front of her, I hear her mumble something to someone else walking by about something to eat, so I stop and ask her if she wants something from Starbucks. She grins, and says that actually she and her boyfriend, who is sitting out in front of Netropass across the street, are really trying to get enough money together for a new backpack because their old one broke, and that the only thing she really likes from Starbucks is the oat fudge bar, and she's already had like 4 of them today. I like her honesty, and really, who wants 5 oat fudge bars in one day?

"That's fair," I say. "Although I totally love the oat fudge bars too". I tell her I was planning on using debit but that I might have a bit of change, and she says every bit counts, so I dig around in my purse for a bit while we chat and she tells me that she's found the peanut butter bars that Starbucks used to sell, at a little bakery down in St. Lawrence Market. We joke about how maybe Reese's had forced Starbucks to stop selling their peanut butter bars because they wanted a monopoly on the chocolate/peanut butter market, and then I ask her if she smokes and offer her a cigarette.

"My boyfriend and I are stuck here for awhile anyway," she tells me, and explains that they bought their bus tickets to BC in advance but that they are for a specific day so they have to wait until then to leave. She tells me she is from Halifax, and he is from Toronto. She tells me a few more stories, including one about how last week a guy offered her and her boyfriend each 400 dollars to wait in line all night at Nike for these new shoes they were going to be releasing, and how when they woke up in the morning, everyone was gone, because it turned out Nike said they were just going to release them online. Then I ask her if she has plans for when they get to BC.

"Well, I'm kind of hiding from my doctors. They're supposed to cut off my leg." This isn't really anything I was expecting her to say, and when she starts to hike up her pant leg, I'm not sure what I'm expecting to see, maybe some kind of mangled, gangrenous limb, but there's nothing there except a normal-looking leg with some scars along the the front and side of her shin and knee. She points to the scars. "They took out most of the bone a few years ago." she says. "Oh." I say. "I have cellulitis," she explains, "and it's in my bloodstream. I should have dealt with it before, but I can't deal with them taking off my leg, so instead I have to have pieces taken out of my body every now and then. I'd rather that then lose my leg. How messed up is that?" I ask her what scares her about losing her leg and getting a prosthesis. She tells me she loves to roller blade. I say she could probably still do it. She says it wouldn't be the same, and I agree. She then tells me how she's had two other surgeries, one to take out a piece of flesh from her armpit area, one from her backside, both damage caused by the cellulitis. She tells me how she wishes she'd gone ahead with the original surgery, when it was just supposed to be from the shin down, or then from the knee down, because the last time she was told they have to take her leg from the hip down. She's gone in multiple times, ready to do the amputation, signed the forms, but then the next day when they come in, she's gone, because she's decided she just can't go through with it.

Every time she runs away to live on the streets, people keep telling her she just needs to do it, that she needs to suck it up because it's what needs to happen. "People don't get it," she explains to me. "I KNOW that. But I can't lose my leg." She tells me that she's holding out, waiting for her lawsuit to come through. I don't ask her what the lawsuit is for, medical-related I assume. "With the 2 million dollars, I figure SOMEONE can save my leg". She grins at me again. Somehow we end up on the topic of food again, and she asks me if I know how long it takes to eat a box of Fruit Loops one at a time. "A jumbo box, or a regular size box?" I ask her. She grins. "A big dollar store box." she answers. "Hmm...." She doesn't wait for me to guess. "Two days. And that includes throwing handfuls of them at pigeons. This is what you learn when you've lost half your teeth." She shows me that she's lost basically all of her back molars, and tells me that she's worried that the cellulitis is responsible for this as well. We talk some more. She tells me that she wishes her friends could just go with her to the hospital and handcuff her to the hospital bed so that she can't run. She says "if the police are allowed to do it, my friends should be able to." She tells me "the drugs are just a way to entertain myself in the meantime," as we both light another cigarette.

While we talk I find the therapist in me frantically searching for the right thing to say to this girl. In fact, if I'm honest, it's probably not even the therapist part of me, but the part of me that contributed to wanting to be a therapist in the first place, the part of me that wants to save people, save them from themselves, from the sadness and horror that life brings to people for no other reason than that's just what life does. I think: others have tried to convince her why she has to go through with the surgery, she's told you that's not helpful, so don't do that. I tell her it's her body, she needs to make the right choice for herself because she wants to. That she'll do the right thing for herself when the time is right. I think: help her see that she has the power to make this choice, DO SOMETHING. But in the end I realize that I can't save her. Because at the end of the day we all hold the responsibility for ourselves. Nobody can handcuff her to the hospital bed. She has to walk in and sign the forms and stay there because SHE wants to. People can support her, and hold her hand, and be with her through the ordeal. Others can talk to her about it, and listen to her pain, and help her cope, but no can tell her when it's time to take the leap of the faith and say: NOW. I'm ready. Because only she will know when she's ready.

So in the end, we stand there together in silence for a bit until she mentions that she kind of feels like a strawberry frappuccino after all. I ask her if she would like me to get one for her and she says "Yes, please." So I buy her one, with whipped cream, and then we say goodbye and I wish her luck. Because I can do that for her today. And I say thank you to her, and hope that she knows that she gave a gift to me today as well.

Good luck strawberry frappuccino girl. I hope you decide to say "Yes".

Be Not Afraid of Greatness....

This whole commitment to making all of my blog entry titles Shakespeare quotes is becoming challenging. But I think it makes me sound smart and sophisticated, which makes me feel important, which is the main purpose of life, I think. Being important. Anyway......

I think I should probably win a prize or something for complete lack of commitment to maintaining this blog. The last entry wasn't even from this YEAR, although I think it kind of counts, since it was New Year's Eve, which is PRACTICALLY 2011. But now it's May 8, which I am aware is 5 months later. So I've decided I need to make up my mind whether or not I want to bother keeping up this blog.

I just thought about it for approximately 30 seconds and I've decided I will. Even though I have nothing interesting to say today, even though I probably will have nothing interesting to say tomorrow either, I AM NOT A QUITTER. My secret hope is that if I just keep writing stuff,eventually some publisher will stumble upon (oooh, I wonder if there is a way to add my site to Stumble Upon. I suspect you probably have to pay for something like that, which seems like a silly expense.) my writing, will declare me a genius, and will insist that I write a book, which will become a bestseller, and I will travel the world signing copies of my fabulous memoirs and letting people believe I'm some sort of literary genius. In short: I WILL BE GREAT.

I am aware that the truth of the matter is likely that the only person who will be reading this is my mom, and mostly just because her blog links to mine, so she'll probably feel guilty if she sees I've written a new post and doesn't read it. But I guess you have to start somewhere....

Love All, Trust a Few, Do Wrong to None....

In keeping with my challenge to myself to only use Shakespeare quotes for my blog titles, I have chosen this quote from 'All's Well That Ends Well' for my New Year's Eve post. It sounded like the sort of thing really altruistic, self-actualized people would say, and since becoming a more altruistic and self-actualized person is my New Year's resolution, it seemed appropriate.

That's actually a total lie. Becoming a more self-actualized and altruistic person is most definitely NOT my New Year's resolution. Since discovering that only 12% of people who make New Year's resolutions actually accomplish their goals, I decided that I needed to be very careful about what I resolved to do for the coming year. After all, I do not want to end up amongst the 88% of resolution-makers who will be wallowing in a sea of disappointment and failure by this time next year.

After reading that statistic I started wondering about the phenomenon of people stubbornly making the same resolutions year after year, while rarely ever accomplishing any of the things they set out to do. I figure there's probably a couple reasons, one of them being that change is hard. The other reason is that, in general, people suck at setting goals. I'm allowed to say this without being a jerk because I am one of those people who suck at setting goals. Let me give you an example. Let's say I decided I wanted to learn to paint. I would probably set a goal like "Have one of my paintings on exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario". This would be a crappy goal, mostly because I would have skipped a few steps in between; "buy paint" for example. So of course, with such a lofty goal looming over my head, I would give up before I had even begun, crushed under the crippling weight of my unattainable goal. And there would go my New Year's resolution. I think this setting of unattainable standards is the most common cause of ruin for goal-setters everywhere. So, bearing that in mind, I decided to set some achievable resolutions for myself this year.

Jennifer's 2011 Achievable New Year's Resolutions

1)Attend work for approximately 8 hours most workdays of most of the weeks this year
2)Buy groceries when there is little/no food in the house
3)Charge cell phone/laptop/iPod when battery dies
4)Pay bills somewhere within a time frame of 1 to 2 months after the due date
5)Sleep in on weekends as often as possible
6)Drink lots of coffee from Starbucks
7)Buy paint

I'm feeling pretty satisfied with these, and fairly confident that this time next year I will be sitting here with a smug smile on my face, proudly checking each and every one of these items off my 2011 To Do List. Look out New Year. I'm ready for you.


P.S. For those of you who noticed, I finally chose a name for the blog. To be honest, I forgot about my Facebook contest to have other people name my blog, and by the time I'd remembered the moment had passed. So yesterday I finally sat down and came up with my own. I'm blaming my Blog Title writer's block for why I have not posted anything since September, but I think we all know the truth(see blog post titled "Ode to Procrastination").

Happy New Year everyone!!

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow: An Ode to Procrastination

So originally this post was going to be about how much I love Toronto. I had all these wonderful ideas and observations that I just couldn't WAIT to share with the world after a particularly entertaining Saturday in the city. Of course, once I got home I became distracted by other things, like television and sleeping and doing laundry, and by the time Sunday night had rolled around I thought "I'll do it tomorrow". If there has ever been a phrase that could sum up my life in four words or less, it would be that one.
I'll do it tomorrow.
That sentence has been single-handedly responsible for my years spent as a smoker, my lack of quality time at the gym, and the fact that I still do not have a driver's license with my new address on it, even though I've lived in my apartment for almost a year. There are numerous other examples that I could quote right now, although I think one of my finer moments was the final paper for my Methods of Behavioural Change course in university. We were required to choose one of our own bad habits that we wanted to change, devise a behaviour modification plan, implement it, and write up a final report on our successes or failures. Being foolishly optimistic about changing a habit that I had basically brought with me into the world (I showed up at least two weeks late to MY OWN BIRTH, and even then couldn't be bothered to be born until the doctors said "forget this" and did a c-section to come in and get me) I chose 'Procrastinating' as the bad habit I was going to help myself break. I drew up a fabulous calendar with the various tasks I was required to do each day colour-coded and penciled in at various times. I worked out a reinforcement schedule that allowed me to slowly work up to my ultimate goal, which was essentially to stop going to the bar instead of doing my homework. The first two or three days I proudly checked off all the items I had accomplished, and by the fourth day I decided I had earned one of my rewards, which was going out to the bar. This likely would have worked except that after a week or so I clued into the awesome fact that I didn't actually NEED to wait until I had accomplished 75% of the tasks on my list before rewarding myself. I COULD JUST GO TO THE BAR RIGHT NOW!!!! (I'm sure you know where this is going, but I'm going to tell you anyway). Finally the day before the final report is due rolls around and I realize suddenly that not only have I put off writing the paper, but I didn't actually get around to implementing the plan. And so, at the eleventh hour (it was literally the eleventh hour, it was 11 p.m. when I started writing. Or I guess technically that would be the 23rd hour. Whatever.) I sit down in front of my computer and start trying to figure out how I'm going to explain that I didn't actually change my procrastinating behaviour because I didn't ever get around to doing it. The irony of waiting until the last minute to write my paper about how I didn't want to procrastinate anymore was not lost on me. Anyway, I got an A-. So there.

Although procrastinating has caused me some stress over the years, mainly in relation to school work, it has also helped me develop some other very important skills. Skills such as: being able to alphabetize CD's by artist, or books by author AND title. I am also quite adept at colour coordinating my closet, spontaneously creating resource binders from every article I've ever printed out or received in class, and obtaining all-time high scores in Spider Solitaire. In fact, I'm procrastinating right now. I should be brushing my teeth and going to bed. Bah. I'll do it later.

Ultimately, I have decided to embrace my tendency to procrastinate, not as a character flaw, but as evidence of my superior ability to create/work/problem-solve under pressure. Procrastinating is sort of like challenging time to a contest, if you imagine that I say: "HEY TIME! YOU DON'T THINK THERE'S ENOUGH OF YOU FOR ME TO FINISH THIS PAPER/WORK ASSIGNMENT/SUITCASE PACKING BEFORE IT'S DUE/FRIDAY AFTERNOON/MY PLANE TAKES OFF? I'LL SHOW YOU!" Most of the time I win, except that time I missed my flight from Vancouver, but I'm blaming that mostly on my sister and traffic.

Anyway, the whole point of this blog post was supposed to be about my awesome Saturday that included things like babysitting the cutest kid ever at a lesbian soccer game, discussing the origins of the word 'djinn' with Dave, the guy who sells Outreach magazines on my street every day, finding out that the Tim Horton's down the street got randomly shot at at 5:30 am (I was just relieved that it wasn't the Starbucks next door), explaining to Rachel McAdams the process of voting for the TIFF People's Choice Award and providing her with a ballot on which to do so, and having the surreal experience of walking through downtown at midnight where they had spread fake snow for the set of Sundays at Tiffanys. But never mind that now. The moment has passed.

PS: Since I don't believe in not crediting others for the things I steal off the internet, I'd just like to point out that I did not make the picture at the top of this page. I stole it from http://visualambassador.com. I'm ok with procrastinating, but not with plagiarism. Always cite your sources, kids.

To Blog or Not to Blog....

I just realized after typing that title that this blog has suddenly become an homage to Shakespeare. So I included a picture of him to make it official. In fact, as of right this moment, I have issued a challenge to myself to try and make all of my post titles Shakespearean quotes. Not one to back down from a challenge by anyone, I of course have no choice but to accept. Therefore, all posts will now begin with quotes from Shakespeare's plays. Only the best for this blog, baby.


Soooooo......now what? I couldn't decide whether or not to write another post tonight. I have nothing of value to say, and didn't want to set any unreasonable precedents like I will write a post every day. Because I won't. I think I should aim for once a week. Two posts in a row like this is a bit of an anomaly, but because it's still new and I love novelty, I couldn't resist checking it out again today and messing around some more with the layout. I'm most proud of the feature at the bottom where I have a video bar made up PURELY OF FRENCH AND SAUNDERS SKETCHES. You're welcome people who appreciate British comedy.

So, I don't know if any of you know this, but I'm probably the coolest person in the whole city of Toronto RIGHT NOW. It's Friday night, and I am wearing an old pair of my sister's volleyball shorts and a tank top, sitting on my Ikea couch drinking caffeine-free diet pepsi, watching Step Up 2 on TV, playing country music on my guitar and blogging. I'm also doing laundry and considering running the dishwasher while trying to figure out how many more days I can survive on one garbage bag and one roll of toilet paper because I'm broke with a capital B. Yup. Coolest person EVER. To celebrate my awesomeness, and also the fact that it is finally FRIDAY, I'll leave you with this song.




You're welcome everyone who likes Fridays, and the one crazy loser (ahem, Kim) who likes country.

What's in a Name?

Welcome to my new (old) blog! Struck by sudden inspiration, and the realization that I spend more hours a week surfing the interwebs than I do sleeping, I figured I might as well put that time to good use honing the skills I developed in Grade 9 typing class. I decided to track down my old site and fire it back up. I like to think of it as "vintage", which is a word that makes pretty much anything that's past its best before date sound cool, but really I'm just too lazy to start another one. After finding the blog site and logging on, the following thought processes took place:

I remembered how my late night TV host boyfriend Craig Ferguson once said that if you are going to say (or write) something, you should ask yourself 3 questions:

1) Does this need to be said?
2) Does this need to be said by me?
3) Does this need to be said by me right now?

When debating whether or not I should start writing this blog, I asked myself those very questions and came up with these answers:

1)Not really.
2)Why not?
3)I'm not doing anything else at the moment.

After some serious reflection on these answers I knew it was a done deal. My future career as a blogger was calling to me. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before I encountered my first obstacle: Coming up with an un-stupid title.

So I'm just going to come right out and say this, before the 3 people who ever read this point it out to me: This blog's original name is totally lame town. (For a moment I toyed with the idea of calling it Lame Town). So I decided my vintage blog needed a new look and a snazzy new name. The look was easy. I selected the "simple" layout from the design section, mainly because that's likely the best word to describe who my readers will be, so that bit was done. But what to do about the name.....

5 years ago I clearly thought that "Some Brilliant Thoughts from a Random Mind" was clever and creative, but at this point in my life my level of sophistication is at an all-time high (as evidenced by my entertaining the notion of calling the blog "Lame Town")and so I decided it needed something cleverer and creativer.
I tried to come up with some titles on my own, but that proved tedious and only made me feel stupid, since all I could come up with was "Lame Town", and that was only because Holly had used the phrase in a Facebook Chat conversation 12 seconds prior. Now not only did I have Blog Title block, but I was a plagiarizer.

I had some other ideas after that. My first one was to steal a ridiculous phrase from a ridiculous celebrity, so that people who google searched said pop culture train wrecks would find themselves suddenly reading my genius commentary on the state of the world, and more specifically, my life. After discarding "It's Britney, B*tch!" and "It Was My Friend's Cocaine" I decided this was not the route to go. By then though, I had stumbled on another idea that would no doubt lead to a popularity explosion of me: Most searched words on Google.

To start this process, I searched "most searched words on Google" on Google. I figured I could tap into the "Stupid People on the Internet" demographic by calling the blog "Facebook" or "Jersey Shore", but then realized that I was still wading in the dangerous waters of Lake Plagiarism and started to reflect on the unfortunate situation of having dumb strangers who can't find Facebook without the use of Google stumbling onto my site. After that, I was pretty much left with "Boobs Sex Porn" which, although there is nothing inherently wrong with any of those things, wasn't the sort of site I was looking to create.

This thought process led to my sudden concern about something else. (I hope you are enjoying the guided tour of my stream of consciousness. If you ever plan to read this again, you'd better get used to it). I began to worry about the fact that, due to the nature of my job (I'm a spy), it might be a bad idea to be plastering my life all over the interwebs for the rest of the world to see. I eventually decided that this was a moot point, mainly since I have no intention of ever posting the name of my workplace, or my last name. These facts combined with my oh-so-unique first name, make it unlikely that anyone who randomly google searches me will find me.

Ultimately, my love of a good competition won out in the end. (That was redundant, wasn't it? I'm pretty sure ultimately means the same thing as in the end, but it's 12:45 in the morning so I don't even care). So, here's where things stand. Because I can't be bothered to come up with a new name for my own blog, my Facebook friends are going to do it for me. The competition will be open until next Friday, as long as I haven't forgotten by then that I even have a blog. So submit away people. I look forward to stealing your creative ideas and pretending they are my own.

The End of the Trip out West

Ok, so I just realized that it's been (AGAIN) almost a month since my last post. I'm really bad at this, apparently. So now, I have to wrack my brain to try and remember the end of my trip. But...here goes.
I arrive in Regina, after flying in on the world's smallest airplane (which by the way, I shared with a cat. Always great for the allergies). Anyway, Robyn picked me up in Regina, and thus began my road tour of the Canadian prairies. First impression of Saskatchewan: It's flat. Just like everyone always said. I've never seen that much sky at one time. It's very cool. Anyway, we make our way to Balcarres, Saskatchewan, population: 500 people. We hang out at her mom's place, get ready, then head out for our pub crawl extraordinaire. I will admit, I was a little skeptical about a pub crawl in a town of 500 people, but we solved that problem rather easily by just going to a different town for each pub. (Yes, we had a sober driver). We hit up three pubs, then call it a night. Good times had by all.
Saturday: trip to Russell, Manitoba. After, of course, stopping in a field of gutted cars on an old farm to procure a rearview mirror for Robyn's car. Yay for car part shopping in Saskatchewan. We head to Russell, party it up, and manage to still leave the next morning at 9 AM, which is pretty good, considering both Robyn's and my combined hours of sleep only equal 4 hours and 50 minutes. I drive.
Then, the border. Three words: Drug Sniffing Dog. We spend 40 minutes inside customs at the border from Manitoba to North Dakota, dressed like the dirtbags we are, while the customs officials literally go through ALL of our bags, take the panelling off inside of the car and open the hood. After escaping without getting thrown in jail, we both decide I will not complain to the customs officials about the drug-sniffing dog hair that is now in the car, since they let the dog in the car. Apparently they have no respect for people who are deathly allergic to dogs. However, my relief at being allowed to get back into the car and leave overrides my desire to complain, and besides, everyone knows you DON'T complain at customs. So I take some allergy pills and we're off. North Dakota was interesting............we saw two cars and a guy on a tractor for the first three hours. Then we stopped in Harvey. It has a gas station. Then we stopped in Fargo, just because I really wanted to, so we had McDonald's in West Fargo. Needless to say, I get pulled over by a state trooper in Fargo. His advice (after pulling us over because I had the shoulder strap of my seatbelt tucked behind me): "Oh...you girls from Saskatchewan?" (yay, Saskatchewan plates) "Um, yes sir". "Oh..well, you have to wear your seatbelts here". NICE. So that was that. In one day, we finally make it to St. Cloud, Minnesota (just one hour short of making it to Minneapolis. Boo). Oh well, anyway, true to form, I'm going to stop this here, and finish this later. Mostly for the suspense factor. Keeps life interesting.

Le Trip out West: Part Deux

OKAY. So, where was I. Oh, right. We get the campfire going, and cram ourselves under Lindsey's giant Ikea umbrella because, although we have beer, warm clothes, and s'mores, we neglected to pack any sort of rain gear, which means all of our warm clothes are getting rather wet. During the ten minute breaks from rain that periodically occur, we manage to cook some Jiffy Pop popcorn on the fire and get ready for bed. At 10, when we finally climb into our tent, it can now officially be considered a DOWNPOUR. After about an hour of Lindsey frantically whispering "WHAT'S THAT?!?" every time she sees a light or hears footsteps (it's a bear with a flashlight of course, Lins. Duh.) I decide to take up watch at the front of the tent, peering out at the campsite through the flap in the tent door. Armed with bear spray, I figure we'll be quite safe. After about five minutes of this, I get bored and go to sleep. Fast forward to:
Monday, 8:00 a.m: When we wake up we discover two things. One: that our sleeping bags and tent are DRENCHED from the rain during the night, and Two: Due to the fact that we were IN our sleeping bags, our only dry clothes are now also drenched, which, by the way, is not going to change because it is STILL raining. So, we did what any city girls in that situation would do: We packed up all the wet camping shit in a big messy pile, threw it in the trunk, got our money for the second night back and went to the Miette hotsprings to soak our aching muscles. This actually worked rather well until Lindsey fell down the stairs on our way back to the car. But, we had Dragostea Din Tei to listen to on the way back, which became our theme song. (Romanian techno is wonderful). It also kept us entertained at our campsite, when we decided to warm up in the car and all climbed in to drink beer and listen to our song, with our campsite neighbours looking rather confused as to why we were sitting in a parked car with the windows fogged up with not English techno music pumping. I think they were just jealous. ANYWAY, I digress.
The rest of the week in Edmonton kicked some ass. We rented some movies, went to some bars, I had ice cream from Marble Slab which is AMAZING. Go there next time you're in Edmonton. I also became addicted to playing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban on X-Box, but that's a whole other story. Eventually, it was Friday and time to head off to the airport for the next leg of my trip which I will I get to next time.

End of August already?????

Well, it looks like I remembered this blog just in time for my once-a-month blog entry. I'm starting to see a pattern here. Damn, I need to stop doing that, because lots has happened since then, and I can't really remember all of it...or even most of it for that matter. Alright, let's see how my summarizing skills are....
Ok...well, I went to Robbie's wedding which was a lot of fun. It was awesome to see people like Rob and Pete and Kris who I hadn't seen in a long time. Of course, on the way to Toronto we definitely got stuck in the TORNADO weather and spent HOURS in traffic on the 427 and the 7....but it was still a good road trip (well,I had fun. John might have a different story). Between the wedding ceremony and the reception, we discovered that we had a little time to kill. So, after hanging out in the Lee Valley Outlet store with Rocco, John and Liz and complaining profusely the entire time, we did what most people who are classily dressed in wedding ceremony attire do: we went to the Metro Toronto Zoo and rode the Zoomobile. That's right people, go ahead and stare. Can't a girl look nice for a day out at the zoo? ANYWAY, then it was off to Canada's Wonderland to see Cara in the School of Rock Spectacular show, and might I say that girl ROCKED the show. After that, an hour line-up for the bat, and then I went on the X-treme Skyflier...the sort-of bungee jumping ride where they hook you up, hoist you up, and let you go. It was awesome, and, I was proud because I went all by myself! It was fun times, that's for sure. After that came the last week of the summer rec program at work (a little sad) the going away BBQ for John (WAY SAD. Still sad) and then my trip to ALBERTA!!! Yay! So...here is the story of my trip. So far.
Day 1: Friday. 6:15 am. My cousin Heather arrives to drive me to the airport, complete with Aspen, the kitten I am to bring with me to Edmonton for her sister Lindsey. All goes well with check-in, flights are great, and I make it to Kim's apartment in good time.
Friday 11:00 p.m. To celebrate (albeit, slightly late) my birthday, Kim, Lindsey and Kim's friends and I head off to the Armory for a great night of free drinks, dancing in really short skirts (all the girls but me, that is) free shots and free stuff I forgot at the bar.
Saturday: the day of rest. Laundry. Preparation for camping. And a wander through the last night of the Fringe Festival just off Whyte Ave. in Edmonton.
Sunday: 10:00 a.m. Begin frantic packing for Jasper camping trip. Lindsey arrives, car gets haphazardly packed and.....THEY'RE OFF. Complete with '80's mix CD that also happens to include the fat dutch kid song, which, consequently, became the theme song of the trip.
Sunday: NOON. The road trip mobile actually leaves Edmonton. After three and a half hours- THE MOUNTAINS! Despite some clouds and some showers, the scenery is beautiful, the wildlife is plentiful and the weather is warm. We check-in to Wapiti campsite, pitch the tent, have a beer and head into Jasper for dinner, which consists of the greatest pizza ever on the roof of Jasper Pizza with a spectacular view of the mountains. Unfortunately, the skies are darkening, so we head back to camp to get the fire going before the rain starts. And with that, dear, loyal readers, I will leave you.You'll have to check back next time to find out what happens next. MWAH HA HA HA HA!

Oh. Right. I have a blog.

Oops. Kind of forgot about this for awhile. A perfect of example of my usual week-long enthusiasm for something before I get bored and wander off. But I came back! So there. Anyway, it's Monday night, and I am taking some time off from looking up random musical activities to do with the kids at camp for the next four weeks. AH! Highlights thus far: weekly karaoke sessions (including Leah's and my particularily enthusiastic performances of Downtown) spending an entire day dressed as The Paper Bag Princess (Hallowe'en Day, folks) and setting what could quite possibly have been the world record for putting up AND decorating an artificial Christmas tree in July. Oh yeah, and getting paid to eat popcorn and watch Elf. Oh Will Ferrell, what would we laugh at if we didn't have you? Anyway, so that's my life. I'm dogsitting and enjoying the luxury of having a car, unfortunately only until Saturday when I will have to return said dog, said car and the house that they both belong to to their rightful owners. Oh well. It was fun to have a car for a couple weeks. It's official; I can now drive a standard without stalling. Watch, now I'll stall on my way out of the driveway tomorrow morning. Well, I'm off to have a shower and read the newest book I've started since completing the latest Harry Potter. IT'S SAD AT THE END......READERS BEWARE. And no, I will not tell you who kicks the bucket in this one. Later ;)

GRE scores, lawn darts, house painting and driving a stick.

Hmm. After the oh-so-succinct summary of the past two days that I have given in the title of this post, I feel as if I have nothing to actually write. Meh. I'll elaborate. So, yesterday, after a full day of prep work for the first day of the summer rec program (which was today) I went to do some more painting at John's place then had a couple beers and some dinner at Montana's. All in all, a fun-filled day. To top it off, when I got home and checked my mail, I had finally received my GRE subject test scores. YAY!!!! And the people rejoiced. At least, I did. So I opened them. And I saw that they were good. At least, I think they are. I'm sure I'll find out when I try to use them to get into grad school.
Today was DAY 1 of the summer rec program at work: THE BBQ!!!!! Basically, the day consisted of: running the lawn darts event, standing in the rain, getting soaked standing in the POURING rain, getting a brief orientation at the other facility on the campus, helping with a BBQ while standing in the rain, then getting a sunburn running the lawn darts event. Not in the rain. Oh yeah, and I jumped in the bouncy castle. THEN, I went and did some more housepainting at John's until we decided that it was time I learned how to drive a standard. Which, apparently I have some sort of mental block for, because I just CAN'T get it. Oh well. He told me that I was thinking too much; that I was too smart to learn to drive stick. I told him, "I know you're humouring me, but thanks." Oh well, driving lesson #2 tomorrow, so we shall see how that goes. So, that's pretty much it. I'm sitting here now, still covered in paint, about to plan my music activities for the rest of the week ( and by rest of the week I mean tomorrow and Thursday; that's right, get a three day weekend EVERY WEEK ;) I need to figure out from someone how to add links to other people's blogs on my site so that I can add Paul and Kristen and Courtney and Genevieve and anyone else who would like their affiliation with me to be essentially a matter of public record. Anyone?......Anyone?......Bueller.......Sorry. Well, off to plan some activities, watch some CSI showcase style and get some sleep.

Happy Canada Day!

OH CANADA!!!!
And so on and so forth. So far the nation's birthday has been relatively uneventful. I had band rehearsal in Kingsville with some of Eclipse to work on some new stuff, then just watched some Dr. Phil (YES, I'm addicted. Courtney, you feel my pain, right??) Well, I'm finishing this right now at 3 AM. After a fun filled night at Big Dicks, followed by karaoke at Patty O's and then capped off with a drink at Papa Cheney's. So, it was fun. Saw Myles tonight, which was totally random. It was definitely nice to see him again. Anyway, right now Lindsey and I are just finishing our McDonald's and heading to bed, so this is going to be it for my blogging for this evening. Happy Birthday Canada!

Bored on a rainy day....

So, I decided to check out this blog thing that everybody seems to be doing. When I first heard about it I thought: "why would I do that; my life isn't anywhere NEAR that interesting that anyone would want to read about it every day." But.....then I thought: "THEY don't know that." So...before I start telling you all about my promotion to senior editor at VOGUE magazine and my new waterfront villa in Spain.....yeah..right. I do have an apartment in Windsor though, that if I walk four blocks I can see the Detroit River, so it's kind of waterfront property. ANYWAY....Courtney, the Blog Stalker (self-proclaimed, I believe) was the one who told me to check out some of the blogs our friends had, and lo and behold, I discovered this intricate little world of...well, basically reading other people's journals. So of course, I was in. Naturally, spying on other people's lives and wondering why theirs are more interesting than mine is one of my favourite pastimes. So, here it is. My contribution to the world of blogging.

So...today is really boring. I picked up my police clearance and paid my union dues. 170 DOLLARS??!?!?! Damn musician's union. It's really funny; I've probably spent like, $500 plus on all these new 'jobs' I'm starting (the band,the day camp, respite)....I better start seeing some payback pretty damn soon. So yeah. Heading off to watch some Dr. Phil in about ten minutes, followed by some massive apartment cleaning, and then some beers at Charly's with Jennifer and her sister and hopefully Allison. Wow. I'm hoping tomorrow will be Productivity Day, which I have a feeling it won't be seeing as it's also Canada Day. But who really knows.
Later