Majolie? No Siree.

Sometimes I get strange emails and invites to events from people I don't know and whose only connection to me was from the old life... It's very disturbing and makes me wonder where my name still floats around.

The latest was from a clothing company in Montreal that the ex-wife bought from and knew the designer. I have zero connections to the ex except through two friends and neither of them are connected to Montreal. In addition I don't use the same email address that I did when I was married and have strict privacy settings on muh social networks. This isn't the first time and I can't quite figure out where the tie would be.

I doubt very much that people simply remember my name as I have no idea who the fuck they are and never met them in person. All of the image tags with my ugly face that are connected with "what's her name" have been gone for years. I don't understand where the connection could be floating around and it kind of bothers me, although not enough to do anything about it.

Most of the time I just hit "No" or ignore the invite but sometimes I feel bad when there are no people attending so I hit maybe. In facebook lingo "maybe" means "pity". I wish there was way to just have it all automatically trigger "maybe" when the profile receives an invite. If I was a better scripter I would figure that shit out.

I get emails for other people who share the same name as me. It's almost always correspondence from Australia or New Zealand. The latest of those was some kind Christiany-jesus club membership renewal. My name is very popular in Australia but I found that there is also an architect and a dentist with my name in the US. Nothing, and I mean nothing makes you feel less unique than sharing your name with a dentist.

New Zealand sounds better when you pronounce it as "newsy land". It the island where they sent the cast of the early 1990's movie Newsies. I think Swing Kids was sent there too except for the one dude who is on House.

I'm cutting my hair this week. It's not going to be the magic hair-cut I intend to get for career hunting but it should make me look less like a fancy-girl. I don't know how to find pictures of what I want even though I've seen it dozens of times on the streets. Essentially I want a gentleman's haircut. Like real men had in the 30's. Dapper? Here's a photoshopped image I just made in 45 second combining my facebook pic with a style I like. I'm handsome!




Mary and I got an apartment. We sign the lease on Friday. Mary hasn't seen the place but she knows what the criteria is and that I wouldn't suggest applying unless it was met. It's an older place with a lot of character just like we like. It does need some work to look good and by the time I'm done with it, will look like a feature in House and Home.

I'm a bit of kook when it comes to interiors. Pictures require matted frames goddammit! We'd like to have social gatherings at the new place too. No water fights or screaming will be permitted. Instead we will sit around in classy chairs sipping of the champagne and eating of the scones and fancy breads. But above all the main rule has to do with the invitations, they will not find their way to ex-wives... or Draculas.

Sore Stummy

My stomach has been acting funny the last few weeks. It's annoying but not enough to act on or change my consumable habits.

The conclusion to yesterday's ordeal was as expected... wrong day, not dead.

I kind of like waking up at 2:00 am. It's like the population of the planet decreases ten fold. Driving means sharing the road with 6 other cars and a truck. You never have to worry about changing lanes or finding a parking space. It's perfect. I wish we had more 24hr businesses though. I don't think we have the 24hr Walmarts yet but I would prefer to do my shopping at 3:30 in the morn. This all kind of goes hand-in-hand with my post-apocalyptic obsession. It could be zombies or war or disease, if there is a book or movie or tv-show based on the post-apocalyptic theme I am enthralled. Most of them are horrible but the idea of roaming around the planet with little to no other people getting in my way is arousing.

I remember watching the first Left Behind movie and coming away with the complete opposite reaction to it's intentions. In case you don't know, the Left Behind series are like rapture-porn for creepy born-again Christians. I mean all Christians are creepy but the rapture crowd are extra bizarre. The movies star Kirk Cameron of Growing Pains and the idiotic youtube videos where he and this moron, Ray Comfort claim Bananas were created by god for the human hand (Bananas are actually a product of cultivation and agricultural hybrids over hundreds of years and with millions of generations, they're literally designed by people.)

Anyway the plot is that all the Christians are taken to heaven and the focus is on those left behind to face the anti-christ. For some reason being left behind is a bad thing and in the end all the good-guys accept jesus and get to leave. It's an insanely successful series amongst the evangelical crowd. I just don't understand why you'd want to go to heaven when you could have a Mad-Max style life, roaming empty cities with your shirt off and that belt of machine-gun bullets around your neck. Heaven sounds like a place for an egotistical sky-monster to be praised and worshiped by drooling idiots who base all their moral decisions on getting some kind celestial cookie show instead of just being decent. Apparently their lord needs a lot of attention and hates counter opinions.

Ok enough of that.

I used to daydream about being the only person left in Montreal when I lived there. I had the street picked out where I would find a house on the hill. I planned on how I would eat, as everything in le supermarche would rot quickly. I would find a house with a pool and then fill the pool with soil and build a green house around for the winter. I would learn to use solar power but essentially I could get away with using a fireplace for heat, fire-pit to cook, and candles for the evening as I relax and read. The solar power was really just for charging my 2"think second generation iPod. I can't live without muh tunes! I would also stock up on car batteries and energizers too.

I would need to learn how to use a rifle fo sho! Animals would eventually come into the city and I need meat for protein. I also assumed wolves would get involved and I would need to defend my tattered body. At the very least dogs would go wild pretty quick and crave my real man meat. Also rifle and bow training is a good way to occupy your mind. The isolation would probably kill me within a few years anyway but that part was less interesting to contemplate.

It's kind of odd for me to daydream about complete solitude. I don't like being alone for extended periods of time. What I think the fantasies about being the only one left really boil down to is that when you're by yourself there is nobody to see you fail... except the zombies.

Song of the day:

Susan Saranwrap

Here was my morning:

I got up at 1:00 am and drove to the airport in Toronto to pick up my mom, aunt, my aunt's boyfriend and their mutual friend Sharon. I parked in the giant lot which was very empty at that time. I drove around looking for an expensive car to park beside. I hate leaving the car alone in the middle of a parking lot or structure. I get worried that if the car really is secretly alive it will get lonely. Also it looks less like a big target.

I walked into Terminal 1 via the long carpeted hallway from the parking structure to the airport. For some reason I love enclosed bridge/hallways at airports or malls or over a downtown city street. If the world dies except for me and there is a Silent Earth situation I may live in one. Actually I would live on the observation deck of the Empire State building, sleeping outside except during the winter or rain. I've thought this through, trust me.

Anyway it was dimly lit down in the area where you wait to see when your loved ones come out. It's set up like a stage with opaque doors so you don't actually get to watch them come down from the carousal area. I sat in a chair at a closed cafe kiosk and read my book on graphic design theory. The board above told me that the flight from Punta Cana landed 15 min early so I figured it was just a matter of moments until they came sleepily out from behind the sliding doors. It's like a tired, disheveled fashion show.

Watching the streams of boring individuals come out I couldn't help but notice two very obvious things:

1. People fucking love... LOVE!... their HBC/Roots olympic CANADA zip-up hoodies.

2. About 80% of every who walks out from behind an opaque door stops one step passed the exit and stares out confused, blocking all of the other people in line who almost always then stop, hold up the line, and glare like idiots. It's the same disease that causes people to stop at the top or bottom of an escalator not thinking about the people behind them that have no where to go. I'm sure some of you reading do this, probably without realizing it. That makes you an inconsiderate asshole, I'm sorry.

So.....

Two hours later and still no family.

I decided about 30 min after the flight had disappeared from arrival board that I should maybe panic. Just a little.

I walked over to an information kiosk and the grouchy lady on the info-phone told me I had to go up to departures and wait in line and talk to a Sunwing representative. I then proceeded the long walk and escalator trek up to the Sunwing check-in area. There were maybe 300 people in the line. Seriously around 300.

I then decided I should probably stay near the arrival in the off chance they all got held up at customs or something. I panickly strutted my way back down and began to search for an airport representative to help me. I eventually found an elderly Asian woman who I think was more of a general wandering employee than she was an information provider. I told her my problems and she asked if my mom used a walker for some reason. She also tried to explain to me that I could find out the flight from the overhead board and that would tell me when the flight would arrive. I explained that I wasn't in fact retarded as she clearly assumed I was. So I tried to explain again and finally she understood and told me I had to find a Sunwing employee and they would be able to help me. I asked why the airport had no emergency measures when people disappear, and why it was up to the airline to help and not security. She didn't understand.

At that point I thought, my mom must have messed up and told me the wrong day. I also thought about how much parking would be and so I began to quickly walk back toward the car. I moved quicker in a panic to save on parking then I did to find the missing fam. Hmmm. I figured parking would have been crazy expensive, like 10 bucks or something. It was $24.00...

I put on my Vetiver playlist which I titled "Vetivish" and drove home to crash. It occurred to me about half way that if there was a problem there would be a message on the phone.

- "Roll on babe, don't you so slow..."

I also thought about how people sometimes just go missing, especially in the Dominican.

- "I would never lay down in your ditch..."

And by the time I got over the Skyway bridge and was in my zone I simply concluded that she had the day wrong and that I would go back tonight again at 1:00 am.

- "This summer I did the back stroke and you know that that's not all..."

There was zero messages on the phone about being stranded at the airport, arrested for smuggling Hatians or pleas for a ransom. Here's what I think happened...

The vacation was planned by my mom's friend Sharon and the itinerary was left up to her. She's not dumb or absent minded or anything but I think when my mom asked when the flight returned was, Sharon said "Monday" 2:30 am. My mom probably took it as meaning Monday morning at 2:30 am even though what Sharon really meant was Monday night/Tuesday Morning. This would be because the flight out of Punta Cana was in the evening and so naturally in her mind she attached the 2:30 am arrival with the Monday evening departure.

Either that or they're all dead. Stay tuned.

Goat of Arms

Does anyone else remember when McCain's started to put frozen meals into ice-cream containers and how weird it was the first time you saw it in the grocery store. At some point we all just accepted this madness. Now when we notice it and think it's Rolo flavored goodness and then realize it's a beef stir fry we just shrug and move on. It's a sad, sad world.

When I was really little, maybe 6, I remember this kind of green taffy that I would get from a "corner store" in Cambridge Ontario. I think it had the word Jungle in the name. I can vividly remember sitting in the back seat of the K-car eating this green shit and looking through that Scholastic book flyer. Fuck did I ever want the issue of Hot Dog magazine with the picture of Garfield on the cover. I'd even settle for a copy of Dynamite with Garfield on the cover. Really any magazine with Garfield on the cover would do. Just not an actual Garfield book as those were fucking boring.

Cambridge was where I lived when my father died. My mom and him were split up and he was back in ye olde Thunder Bay when he started the family business (that's a metaphor, you figure it out). I really only have like three memories of him that all involve visits after extended periods of time without seeing him. I never made the connection that my parents were split up until I was in my early 20's and my sister told me. Here be, the memories three:

1. We're picking him up at the airport and it's rainy and foggy out.

2. I'm at my grandmas house, it's night but everything has that yellow-orange glow from the 1970's lamp shades and tinted glass. He hands me this large plastic police car with a cb-radio thing on the trunk that's some kind of microphone. It makes lights and sounds. I remember them all sitting quietly on the sofa not really saying anything and then him leaving again.

3. I remember being in a large indoor public pool with huge beach balls and plastic duck decoys everywhere. I remember feeling trapped under some kind of large plastic ball and feeling like I was going to die. I don't actually remember my dad in the memory but more as being present during that memory.

I don't know if I've ever told anyone that before, especially number 2. It sounds sad but I don't remember him as anything other than a fuzzy event. The green taffy called Jungle Rot or something like that has more meaning in my life. It wasn't Jungle Jollies I don't think. Whatever, it was sticky and it was good.

I have a bunch of Cambridge memories but I only ever went back through there once a few years ago and never got out of the car. For whatever reason when I think about my childhood, especially before moving to Stoney Creek, I always feel this insane weight of guilt pressing down on me. I was almost certainly a shitty kid even though I was very quiet and shy in public. Actually most of the memories that are family related cause this sensation of guilt. Even the memory of standing in line with my mom at the Cambridge Hi-&-Zells starring at the Critters poster with the hairy monster and wanting so very much to see it. Mom my was reluctant about those kinds of films after letting me watch Howard The Duck and seeing the duck boobs. Why would a bird have mammaries? I wonder if they felt guilt too?

Song of the Day:

Artron TV

When you see it... you'll know.

I ended up being drunk last night. I had Bonnie, Danny and Jeremy over and Danny brought Champagne for some reason and Red Stripe. At some point I had some and then had more. I'm not a healthy drunk, and I just end up looking stupid. No real hang over though, so that's a bonus.

I got up early yesterday and made waffles. I was initially pleased with the result but now I think they're not quite right. Apparently I need to let the yeast rise more and use less flour. I'll get that shit down to a science.

I'm out of war documentaries and miniseries. I'm probably not out them as much as I just haven't looked today. I still prefer Iraq to any other. Afghanistan is just semi-interesting and the world wars are too depressing and unrelatable to my 24 year-old generation.

I wish there was more Iraq war stuff like there is for WWII and Vietnam. The entire situation is so fucked up. The solutions to all the problems that happened after 2003 were relatively easy. It's sad how almost all of it comes down to the decision making process of like 6 really stupid people. What's even more bizarre is the conspiracy morons who still think these same 6 idiots were also behind what would have been the most elaborate conspiracy ever. Even with the mentally challenged people in charge I still would join the marines if I had a time machine back to 2004. I almost certainly would lose at least a limb or my sanity but for some reason I love the idea of being in the marines.

What a fucking shitty post. All the posts this week have sucked. Here's something interesting: I was reading a cbc article about these dogs that were electrocuted in Toronto on the street somehow. The article I don't think ever mentions how the dogs were electrocuted which makes the story even stranger. It's still really sad until you get to this quote, "I was sitting at my desk when I first heard the first dog screaming in pain." Then all I could think about was the goat yelling "mom!" and I laughed. How does a dog scream? "Ahhhhh"?

Here's a song that I want you to listen to because it's good!:

Relationship of Commandrew

I keep thinking that I'm falling behind on what my next 6 weeks was supposed to be but I'm actually learning and insane amount about wordpress development and graphic design theory.

Tomorrow I'm baking waffles and scones. I was just going to do one but I want to try a few things with the scone recipe Mary and I whipped up last weekend. I think they need more sugar, in fact I think the waffles need more sugar too. I also want to try creating a few scones in the waffle press and see what that is like. They're yeast scones so the texture is very different from say the delicious maple scones you get at Starbucks. They're soft but not crumbly so what I'm going to do is make up a completely different name for them so that people won't expect them to be a scone or biscuit. I'll call them "mary-cakes".

I just made spice-scones and they're insane! Easily the best baking I've done to date. I'm not actually going to eat any of it but I tasted a small corner and I am quite proud. I actually took photos of them so you know I think they're good. The pictures make them look like roasted chicken which is a little weird but in person they look like something you;d want to shove down your face-hole. I also think that with the adjustments I made when baking that they would work as waffles too. I also added some food coloring to make them look rich and the glaze I put on top has marshmallow dissolved in it.





Is anyone else familiar with the porn site known as "The Dancing Bear"? Here's the premise: a built naked dude wearing a giant bear costume head dances around at a "real" bachelorette party and gets sucked off by average women. It's fucking hilarious! I simply cannot recommend it enough if you're bored and in public.

Song of the day:

Coffee Extract

I can't find coffee extract anywhere. I find this fact very disturbing but what's even more disturbing is the fact that I'm disturbed by not finding coffee extract.

No comments in a few days = I'm boring.

I wish I was a baker.

That's my entire post for today. Here is a picture and a song no one cares about: