I was all gung-ho about my grown-up weekend, until I started imagining the recap I would post here, and now I'm not so sure. About a week ago I got a new book from Chapters, but for a while I've only had an internet-attention span, so I didn't start reading it until Friday night. A million times I have learned the lesson to NEVER START A BOOK AT BED-TIME, but a million times I forget so I started the book at bed-time. I read until like 2am, thinking to myself, "This would be a really good Saturday activity. Put the book down and go to bed," but I couldn't. It was a really big book and I managed to tear myself away about halfway through.
Then on Saturday morning, which I usually look forward to because I can sleep in however long I want, I woke up at 8:30 and was very excited about reading my book. "The book is not going anywhere," I told myself, "go back to sleep." But I couldn't. So I got up and finished my book. Then I went and chopped all my hair off again, and did a bunch of errands, and went on a quest for a good slurpee. While I was getting my hair cut I was consumed with desire for a slurpee, even though it had been snowing all day. I tried TWO different cream soda slurpees and two different locations, and they both tasted like soap. :( Then I went back to my apartment and had a nap until 5, and then I went to a friend's house for dinner. Then before I went to bed I cleaned up my stupid room, because I couldn't find the shirt I wanted to wear today under all the clothes I'd piled on my floor. I finally threw away the wrapper that has been on my floor for a month, getting stuck to my foot EVERY STINKING DAY.
This morning I ironed my shirt that I found on the floor, and then when I came home from church I put away all my groceries from yesterday and put lasagna in my crock pot for meals this week, and now I'm about to mark students' stories from like two weeks ago that I keep putting off.
When I recount it all at once, it doesn't sound very grown-up at all. Doing a bunch of errands always makes me feel productive, and also I ironed this morning, so I think that's it. And I threw away that wrapper. Maybe I've got one leg into my grown-up pants.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
that was not what i meant at all
It was English class. The students were diligently (ha) copying notes down from the overhead while I readied the projector to demonstrate the Write Trait of Voice by playing radically different versions of the same song. ("High and Dry" - Radiohead, Jamie Cullum, Emily Osment.) "Pay attention, you guys," I was saying, typing the address for good ol' faithful youtube into the address bar. "This is going to be exciting."
Now, we've all mis-typed an address into the address bar, right? Forget a letter here or there, press 'enter' before you're actually finished typing, that sort of thing. None of these have caused the end of the world before. You might get a "Page Not Found" error, or realize your mistake before the internet has finished loading the wrong page and correct it in time. In the case of Google, you might even end up at the page you intended because the site you were trying to get to has foreseen this type of difficulty and wants to spare you the trouble of typing correctly.
A thousand times I have done something similar. This is the first time I have done it in front of 24 twelve year olds. The first time. AND THE WORST TIME.
Do you know where "youtube.com" takes you if you forget the first letter? I will tell you. To a porn site. A PORN SITE. In the middle of English class. In a Christian school! In front of twelve year olds! A PORN SITE!
Luckily, due to some miracle or extreme coincidence, I didn't have the projector on at that moment. The computer was on, but facing my desk where the EA was sitting. "OH MY GOODNESS!" I shouted, as he burst out laughing. "THAT WAS NOT WHAT I MEANT AT ALL."
"What, Miss W.?" the darling, curious children asked. "What happened?"
"NOTHING HAPPENED!" I stammered, my face burning with embarrassment and awkwardness. "EVERYTHING IS FINE."
"Did you go somewhere bad?" the dear ones persisted. "Where did you go?"
"Nowhere. Watch this video," I commanded, turning the projector on and continuing on with class.
A PORN SITE. In ENGLISH CLASS. COME ON.
Now, we've all mis-typed an address into the address bar, right? Forget a letter here or there, press 'enter' before you're actually finished typing, that sort of thing. None of these have caused the end of the world before. You might get a "Page Not Found" error, or realize your mistake before the internet has finished loading the wrong page and correct it in time. In the case of Google, you might even end up at the page you intended because the site you were trying to get to has foreseen this type of difficulty and wants to spare you the trouble of typing correctly.
A thousand times I have done something similar. This is the first time I have done it in front of 24 twelve year olds. The first time. AND THE WORST TIME.
Do you know where "youtube.com" takes you if you forget the first letter? I will tell you. To a porn site. A PORN SITE. In the middle of English class. In a Christian school! In front of twelve year olds! A PORN SITE!
Luckily, due to some miracle or extreme coincidence, I didn't have the projector on at that moment. The computer was on, but facing my desk where the EA was sitting. "OH MY GOODNESS!" I shouted, as he burst out laughing. "THAT WAS NOT WHAT I MEANT AT ALL."
"What, Miss W.?" the darling, curious children asked. "What happened?"
"NOTHING HAPPENED!" I stammered, my face burning with embarrassment and awkwardness. "EVERYTHING IS FINE."
"Did you go somewhere bad?" the dear ones persisted. "Where did you go?"
"Nowhere. Watch this video," I commanded, turning the projector on and continuing on with class.
A PORN SITE. In ENGLISH CLASS. COME ON.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
crock pot: a continuation
While I was at work today, having a terrible, exhausting day, my crock pot was merrily cooking away. I'd tried this recipe once before with less-than-expected results, because I couldn't find plain chili sauce and used sweet thai chili sauce instead, and also I cooked it on high instead of low. Now I know better.
Ingredients
3 pounds boneless pork shoulder
1 c. chopped sweet onion
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 12-ounce bottle chili sauce
2 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp cider vinegar
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp chili powder
salt and pepper
Directions
1) Trim the fat from pork. (Yuck.)
2) Mix up all the other ingredients and pour over pork.
3) cover and cook on low for 10 or 11 hours, or on high for 5 to 6. (Don't do it on high, though. It's totally not as good.)
My mom said you can save the extra sauce and freeze it to put over chicken and stuff, but I haven't gotten to that point yet, because I'm waiting for my rice to cook. I've tasted bits of the pork, and it's fantastic. It's super spicy, the kind of spicy that burns your tongue for a while after the taste is gone - that's why I thought it would be good with rice instead of pasta or something. Apparently, if you use pork shoulder, it will fall apart better. I get confused by all the kinds of pork so I only buy one kind, center chop, which seems to work fine. I can make it fall apart with my fork.
Ingredients
3 pounds boneless pork shoulder
1 c. chopped sweet onion
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 12-ounce bottle chili sauce
2 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp cider vinegar
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp chili powder
salt and pepper
Directions
1) Trim the fat from pork. (Yuck.)
2) Mix up all the other ingredients and pour over pork.
3) cover and cook on low for 10 or 11 hours, or on high for 5 to 6. (Don't do it on high, though. It's totally not as good.)
My mom said you can save the extra sauce and freeze it to put over chicken and stuff, but I haven't gotten to that point yet, because I'm waiting for my rice to cook. I've tasted bits of the pork, and it's fantastic. It's super spicy, the kind of spicy that burns your tongue for a while after the taste is gone - that's why I thought it would be good with rice instead of pasta or something. Apparently, if you use pork shoulder, it will fall apart better. I get confused by all the kinds of pork so I only buy one kind, center chop, which seems to work fine. I can make it fall apart with my fork.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
that's a pretentious way of saying i'm... unemployed
Two things happened at Save-On today. First: I was clearly waiting for a parking spot, with my blinker on and everything. But then some jerk in a pick-up truck swooped in and stole it! I shared an eye-roll with a lady who was walking towards me who almost got hit by the stupid truck. Why do people keep stealing my parking spots?!?!
Then, I went to the chicken section to feed my crock pot addiction, and there were NO chicken breasts! There was package after package of chicken thighs, but no chicken breasts. I've never had a chicken thigh before, so I didn't want to risk it, and bought pork instead, but I was so confused! There were a few of us standing bewildered by the where the chicken was supposed to be. 'What... how do I... I don't understand what's going on.'
Meanwhile, in the world of musicals...
14. An American in Paris (1951) - Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron. This one is about an American guy who used to be in the army, but when that ended he stayed in Paris to paint. He's not doing very well with his paintings until a glamorous lady decides to sponsor him (because she has a crush on him, although she's a bit of a cougar because I'm pretty sure she was a lot older than him), and then at the same time he meets and falls in love with a French girl who is engaged to someone else! It's all very dramatic.
What I liked was the super long ballet sequence at the end of the movie, and Gene Kelly singing a song with a bunch of French kids, and how tiny his apartment was! His bed was suspended from the ceiling, so when he woke up he had to crank it up to the ceiling so he'd have space to walk around, and his kitchen was hidden in a closet, and so on. It made me feel like I have all the room in the world! Also, one of the supporting characters is a failed concert pianist, and he has a fantastic dream sequence in which he is playing a concert, but he's also every member of the symphony, and the conductor, and also the audience. It's creepy and great, all at once.
What I did not like was how stupid Gene Kelly professed his love for Leslie Caron, and then she tells him that she's leaving with the French dude she's engaged to, so he right away goes to the lady who's sponsoring him (because she loves him) and kisses her and is all, "I love you now! Surprise!" So he takes her to a party, and she's ecstatic because finally he loves her back; but then, Gene Kelly meets the French girl at the party, and they dance a ballet together, and decide to run off together, and that's the end! I mean, I know we are supposed to care about the two main characters and be relieved that they finally got together, but I was left wondering what was going to happen to the cougar lady! Who was going to tell her what happened? Was she just going to wait around for ever and ever until everyone left the party and then she'd realize that he was gone and she had no way home? I was a bit sad about that.
Other than that bit, I liked this one! I think I would watch it again, especially for the ballet at the end.
Then, I went to the chicken section to feed my crock pot addiction, and there were NO chicken breasts! There was package after package of chicken thighs, but no chicken breasts. I've never had a chicken thigh before, so I didn't want to risk it, and bought pork instead, but I was so confused! There were a few of us standing bewildered by the where the chicken was supposed to be. 'What... how do I... I don't understand what's going on.'
Meanwhile, in the world of musicals...
14. An American in Paris (1951) - Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron. This one is about an American guy who used to be in the army, but when that ended he stayed in Paris to paint. He's not doing very well with his paintings until a glamorous lady decides to sponsor him (because she has a crush on him, although she's a bit of a cougar because I'm pretty sure she was a lot older than him), and then at the same time he meets and falls in love with a French girl who is engaged to someone else! It's all very dramatic.
What I liked was the super long ballet sequence at the end of the movie, and Gene Kelly singing a song with a bunch of French kids, and how tiny his apartment was! His bed was suspended from the ceiling, so when he woke up he had to crank it up to the ceiling so he'd have space to walk around, and his kitchen was hidden in a closet, and so on. It made me feel like I have all the room in the world! Also, one of the supporting characters is a failed concert pianist, and he has a fantastic dream sequence in which he is playing a concert, but he's also every member of the symphony, and the conductor, and also the audience. It's creepy and great, all at once.
What I did not like was how stupid Gene Kelly professed his love for Leslie Caron, and then she tells him that she's leaving with the French dude she's engaged to, so he right away goes to the lady who's sponsoring him (because she loves him) and kisses her and is all, "I love you now! Surprise!" So he takes her to a party, and she's ecstatic because finally he loves her back; but then, Gene Kelly meets the French girl at the party, and they dance a ballet together, and decide to run off together, and that's the end! I mean, I know we are supposed to care about the two main characters and be relieved that they finally got together, but I was left wondering what was going to happen to the cougar lady! Who was going to tell her what happened? Was she just going to wait around for ever and ever until everyone left the party and then she'd realize that he was gone and she had no way home? I was a bit sad about that.
Other than that bit, I liked this one! I think I would watch it again, especially for the ballet at the end.
Monday, February 21, 2011
jump on the wind's back
Sometimes I feel as if I'll never grow up. Before I moved, I thought that moving would force me to act like an adult, but I think I was mistaken. I still don't pay my bills on time. I still don't know what RRSPs are, even though I'm apparently paying into one from work. I still don't eat vegetables, despite the fact that I keep buying them optimistically. Every evening I do a massive clean of my kitchen, washing all the dishes and the counters and making sure everything is tidy, but then I have to do it all again the very next day and I'm starting to wonder what's the point. I go on the internet until too late at night and then I have to drag myself out of bed and do the whole thing over again. I'm doing all the same non-grown-up things I did before, I'm just doing them in a different place.
Some unrelated stories spawned these depressing thoughts.
1) Just after I finished cleaning my kitchen tonight I was pouring chicken and sauce from the crock pot into a container, and it all splooshed out onto my clothes and the counter and the floor. Of course, I should have done that before I cleaned. WHY HAVEN'T I LEARNED THIS YET. (Then I was trying to use "No-Sew" goop on a different pair of pants because I didn't want to sew, and I got the glue goop all over my hands and my chicken-juice sweatpants. Naturally.)
2) I stumbled across a really funny British show, and watched all 4 seasons obsessively in one weekend. Almost immediately, it occurred to me that one of the main characters slightly resembled a boy I liked back in my university days. I hadn't thought about him in a long time, but suddenly I was thinking about him every time I watched the show. I just sent him a "hey, how's it going" email, and now I am compulsively checking my email every two minutes.
I am twenty-five. When is this all going to change? When will I get my grown-up crown?
Some unrelated stories spawned these depressing thoughts.
1) Just after I finished cleaning my kitchen tonight I was pouring chicken and sauce from the crock pot into a container, and it all splooshed out onto my clothes and the counter and the floor. Of course, I should have done that before I cleaned. WHY HAVEN'T I LEARNED THIS YET. (Then I was trying to use "No-Sew" goop on a different pair of pants because I didn't want to sew, and I got the glue goop all over my hands and my chicken-juice sweatpants. Naturally.)
2) I stumbled across a really funny British show, and watched all 4 seasons obsessively in one weekend. Almost immediately, it occurred to me that one of the main characters slightly resembled a boy I liked back in my university days. I hadn't thought about him in a long time, but suddenly I was thinking about him every time I watched the show. I just sent him a "hey, how's it going" email, and now I am compulsively checking my email every two minutes.
I am twenty-five. When is this all going to change? When will I get my grown-up crown?
crock pot: a love story
Before I moved, my mom was all, "You should get a crock pot!" and I was like, "Meh." But you guys, I got a crock pot for $12 a couple weeks ago, and it is FANTASTIC! I love my tiny little crock pot. If something ever goes awry, and I have to actually cook a dinner when I get home from work, I think I'll starve. I love walking in my front door and smelling the lovely smells of dinner. I also love how when I try and take the chicken out of the pot with a fork, it all falls apart! So wonderfully tender.
Anyway, if YOU have a crock pot, here are some of my favourite recipes.
(I've tried and tried to change the teeny tiny "Read More" button, but I can't figure out how to make it bigger. You have to really want to see the recipes to find the button.)
Anyway, if YOU have a crock pot, here are some of my favourite recipes.
(I've tried and tried to change the teeny tiny "Read More" button, but I can't figure out how to make it bigger. You have to really want to see the recipes to find the button.)
Saturday, February 19, 2011
in all your phantom ways
Yesterday was a snow day, so I got bored. I watched a lot of movies, read a lot of books, and listened to a lot of music. When I have a day like that, with little interaction with my own life, sometimes I forget what's really happening to me and have a bit of trouble distinguishing between fiction and reality. I woke up this morning thinking about a gentleman I met yesterday; he was quite charming, but naturally there was something I didn't trust about him. What role is he going to play in my life? Oh right, absolutely none. Because he's in a book.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
go play the game you learned from the morning
I feel like typing for some reason. Sometimes it seems like I'm on the internet all the time and I never get to type anymore. I thought I would be typing emails all the time, but it turns out that even though I moved a million miles away, I am not very good at keeping up contact with people. I seem to have gotten into a routine of not doing anything, so the thought of doing something such as emailing someone I miss is quite daunting. Or maybe I'm just tired at this moment - you know how when you feel something at one moment, it feels like you've always felt that way? I do that all the time. I would like to keep up a twitter-esque feed of all my emotions at any given moment, so I can look back on them for confirmation that no, in fact I have not always felt that way. I may think, man, I am always melancholy. I can refer back to my ongoing tally of emotions, and see that in fact I actually felt quite happy not a moment ago, I just forgot.
Yesterday I took a herd of grade sevens to Duncan for a basketball tournament. I had to get up really early and be at the school at 5:30 am - the one that's in the morning? Before the sun is out and cars are on the road? Nobody in Campbell River is awake at 5:30, apparently. I unlocked the school and turned on the lights in the entrance hallway so it wouldn't be so creepy, and also so that the parents dropping off various team members would know someone was inside. A few minutes after I got in, from my spot in the staff room I heard the door open and somebody breathlessly come inside. I peered out around the corner to see who it was, and it was another teacher! Somebody who was not going on the tournament, who was also at school as early as me!
We stood for a minute and looked at each other, because I was not expecting her; nor was she expecting me. She cocked her head at said, "Are you okay? What are you doing here?" I said, "I'm here for the tournament," but wondered what she could have thought before I told her that. What kind of emergency would have sent me to the school that early? I should have asked her today what she meant, but by tomorrow I'm sure she'll have forgotten. I should also ask her if she's always there that early, because it makes me feel like a slacker. On any given day, I am still dreaming at that time while she is apparently at school working.
Yesterday I took a herd of grade sevens to Duncan for a basketball tournament. I had to get up really early and be at the school at 5:30 am - the one that's in the morning? Before the sun is out and cars are on the road? Nobody in Campbell River is awake at 5:30, apparently. I unlocked the school and turned on the lights in the entrance hallway so it wouldn't be so creepy, and also so that the parents dropping off various team members would know someone was inside. A few minutes after I got in, from my spot in the staff room I heard the door open and somebody breathlessly come inside. I peered out around the corner to see who it was, and it was another teacher! Somebody who was not going on the tournament, who was also at school as early as me!
We stood for a minute and looked at each other, because I was not expecting her; nor was she expecting me. She cocked her head at said, "Are you okay? What are you doing here?" I said, "I'm here for the tournament," but wondered what she could have thought before I told her that. What kind of emergency would have sent me to the school that early? I should have asked her today what she meant, but by tomorrow I'm sure she'll have forgotten. I should also ask her if she's always there that early, because it makes me feel like a slacker. On any given day, I am still dreaming at that time while she is apparently at school working.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
lobster with mayonaise and cucumbers in buttermilk
There is a monsoon outside my window. When I have my dog, I will be going for walks in such weather; I adore walking in the rain, so I look forward to this time. Meanwhile, I watched another musical.
13. Carefree (1938) - Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers. Fred Astaire is a psychiatrist, and Ginger Rogers is a lady who was sent to him by her fiance because she kept breaking off their engagement. Naturally, she falls in love with Fred Astaire; naturally, he doesn't realize he loves her back until he's already hypnotized her into hating him and loving her fiance instead. Fred tries to get back into her subconscious to fix his mistake, but the chance doesn't arise for him until the fiance accidentally punches Ginger in the face and knocks her out. Fred plants the idea that he loves her into her subconscious, and they get married.
I was offended within the first five minutes - Fred Astaire is all, "I bet she's just another dizzy female with no brain," until he sees how gorgeous she is. Then he changes his tune and decides that she's wonderful. COME ON, Fred Astaire. A little more integrity, please. It was at that moment that I discovered that I am looking for modern values in an OLD movie. Everyone thought about women that way. It's ingrained in my mind that women don't deserve to be thought of only in that way, but that kind of thinking wasn't around everywhere in the 30s. Boo, 1930s. Being a Psychology major, I also disliked the poor representation of what a psychiatrist can do. Hello, ethics. You can't just hypnotize people at the drop of a hat to serve your own purposes.
What I liked was that there was less dancing here, and also Ginger Rogers continues to be fantastic. There was a long scene in which she is hypnotized to act impulsively, so she runs through traffic and throws a cop's nightstick into a giant glass window and tosses her shoe into someone's car. I also liked Fred Astaire's singing - he has an amazing voice. His small head continues to bother me, but when he sings I have something else to focus on.
In a lot of these old movies that I get from the library, they include a Special Features section with old animated short movies. One of the ones on this dvd was called "September in the Rain," and before it was showed there was an interesting note: it said that the following cartoon depicted racial stereotypes, which were wrong at the time and are wrong now. They do not reflect the beliefs of the production company (which is a lie, because if they didn't, then the company wouldn't have presented it - they should have said "do not reflect the beliefs that the company holds today" or something), but to not show it would be to pretend that these stereotypes never existed.
I think that is really interesting. It seems like something that should be in front of a lot of old movies, especially ones that are set in the South and always seem to include a few token joyous slave segments. Also, with all the hoopla about taking the N-word out of The Adventures of Huck Finn - to take the word out and re-publish it with a new word in its place is like saying that kind of attitude towards African-American people never existed. I think it would be a lot more conducive to discussion and stuff if they left it in, with that kind of note in front of it. I don't know, though. I'm not an expert on racism and how to deal with stereotypes.
13. Carefree (1938) - Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers. Fred Astaire is a psychiatrist, and Ginger Rogers is a lady who was sent to him by her fiance because she kept breaking off their engagement. Naturally, she falls in love with Fred Astaire; naturally, he doesn't realize he loves her back until he's already hypnotized her into hating him and loving her fiance instead. Fred tries to get back into her subconscious to fix his mistake, but the chance doesn't arise for him until the fiance accidentally punches Ginger in the face and knocks her out. Fred plants the idea that he loves her into her subconscious, and they get married.
I was offended within the first five minutes - Fred Astaire is all, "I bet she's just another dizzy female with no brain," until he sees how gorgeous she is. Then he changes his tune and decides that she's wonderful. COME ON, Fred Astaire. A little more integrity, please. It was at that moment that I discovered that I am looking for modern values in an OLD movie. Everyone thought about women that way. It's ingrained in my mind that women don't deserve to be thought of only in that way, but that kind of thinking wasn't around everywhere in the 30s. Boo, 1930s. Being a Psychology major, I also disliked the poor representation of what a psychiatrist can do. Hello, ethics. You can't just hypnotize people at the drop of a hat to serve your own purposes.
What I liked was that there was less dancing here, and also Ginger Rogers continues to be fantastic. There was a long scene in which she is hypnotized to act impulsively, so she runs through traffic and throws a cop's nightstick into a giant glass window and tosses her shoe into someone's car. I also liked Fred Astaire's singing - he has an amazing voice. His small head continues to bother me, but when he sings I have something else to focus on.
In a lot of these old movies that I get from the library, they include a Special Features section with old animated short movies. One of the ones on this dvd was called "September in the Rain," and before it was showed there was an interesting note: it said that the following cartoon depicted racial stereotypes, which were wrong at the time and are wrong now. They do not reflect the beliefs of the production company (which is a lie, because if they didn't, then the company wouldn't have presented it - they should have said "do not reflect the beliefs that the company holds today" or something), but to not show it would be to pretend that these stereotypes never existed.
I think that is really interesting. It seems like something that should be in front of a lot of old movies, especially ones that are set in the South and always seem to include a few token joyous slave segments. Also, with all the hoopla about taking the N-word out of The Adventures of Huck Finn - to take the word out and re-publish it with a new word in its place is like saying that kind of attitude towards African-American people never existed. I think it would be a lot more conducive to discussion and stuff if they left it in, with that kind of note in front of it. I don't know, though. I'm not an expert on racism and how to deal with stereotypes.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
can't... reach...
Today at Save-On, I noticed they moved my favourite yogurt to a lower shelf. I'm quite pleased with this development, because sometimes I feel like this:
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
i'm still not sure i've actually learned anything
I do not consider myself a slave to fashion. Yes, I dress much nicer if I plan on exiting my apartment and joining the general public than if I plan on lazing about my apartment, but as a general rule I will not wear something pretty if it is uncomfortable. I've always given myself more credit than that. Additionally, I have never been much of a "shoe person." I choose a pair of shoes I like, and wear them every day until they fall apart; then I purchase another pair of shoes as a necessity, but wear them resentfully and mourn the loss of my previous shoes. Then, naturally, I grow to love my new shoes and wear them every day until they fall apart and I require another pair of shoes. This cycle repeats and repeats. I'm not on the lookout for cute shoes; unless the ones on my feet are missing an essential component or I've worn the soles through to the ground, other shoes do not register on my radar.
Until one day. One day, I was shoe shopping with my mother. (Sigh. I hate shoe shopping. Especially when I've still got a perfectly functional pair on my feet.) I sat slumped in a chair, on stand-by for opinions and suggestions for her selections. I stared at racks and racks of shoes, eyes glazed over in unseeing apathy. Shoes, bah.
Then I saw them. They were cranberry red, and stood out from their neutral peers like a diamond ring in the toilet. I blinked and leaned forward ever-so-slightly. Something about them... they intrigued me. Dare I say, they called to me. "Loooooook," they said. "Loooooook. See how pretty."
I stood up and went to them, hesitant to pick them up. This was so unlike me, to be drawn in by a pair of shoes, so I was cautious. But the closer I looked, the more beautiful they became. A buckle! A luxurious velvet ribbon across the toe! A kitten heel!
Shoes: "Gaze upon us. Behold our majesty."
Me: "But I already have a pair of shoes on my feet."
Shoes: "Such a rich, vibrant colour. So unique."
Me: "But you probably won't match anything I own."
Shoes: "Such a delicate, whimsical heel."
Me: "But I topple over in anything higher than a flat."
Shoes: "Did you notice the buckle?"
Me: "I'm sold."
And so I bought them. Without anything to wear them with, or any sort of mastery over anything slightly resembling a heel, I bought them. As per my modus operandi, I instantly wore them everywhere. First up: a jaunt at the airport with my parents, to meet family. I kept gazing down at my feet, smiling in adoration. Such lovely shoes I had. Maybe I was a shoe person, after all! Maybe all those women who had scads and scads of shoes in their closets had it right.
Then I started to feel a little bit of a something on the outer regions of my feet. "Uh, hey," said my baby toes. "Something's... not right."
"La la la," I said. "New shoes."
"I mean it," insisted baby toes. "Something is amiss."
"LA LA LA," I said. "NEW SHOES."
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" cried baby toes.
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" I responded, suddenly and instantly crippled with agonizing pain in both feet. I stopped in the middle of a walkway at the airport and yanked off my stupid shoes. The last two toes on both feet were bright red, and one was bleeding. "What is happening?"
"Oh right," new shoes chimed in. "Did we not mention? BLISTERS. BLISTERS BLISTERS BLISTERS BLISTERS."
I couldn't walk around the airport in bare feet, because I am not ignorant of plantar warts and other various bacteria and disease that rampages wherever there be people, so I hobbled around for two hours, pitifully falling behind my family. I just couldn't keep up! They were all wearing normal shoes!
When I got home, I angrily threw the shoes in my closet. I was furious with myself for being taken in by the colour and the buckle. I had my shoe cycle and I strayed away, and got what I deserved. I would never again buy a pair of shoes before the old one fell apart, and I would not be seduced again.
Except I didn't throw the shoes away. And as I type this, I have band-aids on my baby toes because today at work I wore a skirt with a bit of red in it, and if a person has red shoes in their closet and that same person is wearing a skirt with a bit of red, it's just foolish to wear plain old black shoes. And as much as it pains me to admit it, this is not the first time I have come home from work with band-aids courtesy of those stupid red shoes. I can't resist their siren song. I guess I'm not as wise, or as immune to fashion, as I thought.
Until one day. One day, I was shoe shopping with my mother. (Sigh. I hate shoe shopping. Especially when I've still got a perfectly functional pair on my feet.) I sat slumped in a chair, on stand-by for opinions and suggestions for her selections. I stared at racks and racks of shoes, eyes glazed over in unseeing apathy. Shoes, bah.
Then I saw them. They were cranberry red, and stood out from their neutral peers like a diamond ring in the toilet. I blinked and leaned forward ever-so-slightly. Something about them... they intrigued me. Dare I say, they called to me. "Loooooook," they said. "Loooooook. See how pretty."
I stood up and went to them, hesitant to pick them up. This was so unlike me, to be drawn in by a pair of shoes, so I was cautious. But the closer I looked, the more beautiful they became. A buckle! A luxurious velvet ribbon across the toe! A kitten heel!
Shoes: "Gaze upon us. Behold our majesty."
Me: "But I already have a pair of shoes on my feet."
Shoes: "Such a rich, vibrant colour. So unique."
Me: "But you probably won't match anything I own."
Shoes: "Such a delicate, whimsical heel."
Me: "But I topple over in anything higher than a flat."
Shoes: "Did you notice the buckle?"
Me: "I'm sold."
And so I bought them. Without anything to wear them with, or any sort of mastery over anything slightly resembling a heel, I bought them. As per my modus operandi, I instantly wore them everywhere. First up: a jaunt at the airport with my parents, to meet family. I kept gazing down at my feet, smiling in adoration. Such lovely shoes I had. Maybe I was a shoe person, after all! Maybe all those women who had scads and scads of shoes in their closets had it right.
Then I started to feel a little bit of a something on the outer regions of my feet. "Uh, hey," said my baby toes. "Something's... not right."
"La la la," I said. "New shoes."
"I mean it," insisted baby toes. "Something is amiss."
"LA LA LA," I said. "NEW SHOES."
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" cried baby toes.
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" I responded, suddenly and instantly crippled with agonizing pain in both feet. I stopped in the middle of a walkway at the airport and yanked off my stupid shoes. The last two toes on both feet were bright red, and one was bleeding. "What is happening?"
"Oh right," new shoes chimed in. "Did we not mention? BLISTERS. BLISTERS BLISTERS BLISTERS BLISTERS."
I couldn't walk around the airport in bare feet, because I am not ignorant of plantar warts and other various bacteria and disease that rampages wherever there be people, so I hobbled around for two hours, pitifully falling behind my family. I just couldn't keep up! They were all wearing normal shoes!
When I got home, I angrily threw the shoes in my closet. I was furious with myself for being taken in by the colour and the buckle. I had my shoe cycle and I strayed away, and got what I deserved. I would never again buy a pair of shoes before the old one fell apart, and I would not be seduced again.
Except I didn't throw the shoes away. And as I type this, I have band-aids on my baby toes because today at work I wore a skirt with a bit of red in it, and if a person has red shoes in their closet and that same person is wearing a skirt with a bit of red, it's just foolish to wear plain old black shoes. And as much as it pains me to admit it, this is not the first time I have come home from work with band-aids courtesy of those stupid red shoes. I can't resist their siren song. I guess I'm not as wise, or as immune to fashion, as I thought.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
is it time for bed yet
Big day today.
1. Pancake breakfast with students and parents. All morning I kept saying "Pancake breaky" in an Australian accent in my head, from Danny Deckchair. I didn't think any of my students would get the reference, so I declined to mention it. I dislike not being able to share movie references with other people, so it made me a bit cranky.
2. Diet Coke/Menthos experiment, and also making slime with Borax, in Science class (to demonstrate chemical reactions, naturally). Class went bananas and half got detention. Never want to do anything fun in Science again.
3. A student went MISSING after school. Every single grade seven student was called in attempts to locate her, as well as the police. I checked in bathrooms and classrooms, imagining her dead in a cupboard somewhere. When called upon, I couldn't remember what she was wearing or what colour her eyes are, or if she'd even been in Science class. I felt like a terrible, useless person. An hour and a half later she was located by her family, safe and sound - miscommunication only. THANK THE LORD.
4. Worked up the nerve to call my landlord, to see if he would budge on the "no pets allowed" policy, seeing as how I already told a breeder that I would take a puppy in March. Oops. But! I was persistent and imaginative, and suggested a form I could sign about paying for damages or whatever. He relented. Now I need to find a lawyer-type who can advise me as to how I can sign such a paper without leaving room for a false accusation of damage situation. I'M GOING TO GET A PUPPY, YOU GUYS! One of these is mine. His name is Charlie.
1. Pancake breakfast with students and parents. All morning I kept saying "Pancake breaky" in an Australian accent in my head, from Danny Deckchair. I didn't think any of my students would get the reference, so I declined to mention it. I dislike not being able to share movie references with other people, so it made me a bit cranky.
2. Diet Coke/Menthos experiment, and also making slime with Borax, in Science class (to demonstrate chemical reactions, naturally). Class went bananas and half got detention. Never want to do anything fun in Science again.
3. A student went MISSING after school. Every single grade seven student was called in attempts to locate her, as well as the police. I checked in bathrooms and classrooms, imagining her dead in a cupboard somewhere. When called upon, I couldn't remember what she was wearing or what colour her eyes are, or if she'd even been in Science class. I felt like a terrible, useless person. An hour and a half later she was located by her family, safe and sound - miscommunication only. THANK THE LORD.
4. Worked up the nerve to call my landlord, to see if he would budge on the "no pets allowed" policy, seeing as how I already told a breeder that I would take a puppy in March. Oops. But! I was persistent and imaginative, and suggested a form I could sign about paying for damages or whatever. He relented. Now I need to find a lawyer-type who can advise me as to how I can sign such a paper without leaving room for a false accusation of damage situation. I'M GOING TO GET A PUPPY, YOU GUYS! One of these is mine. His name is Charlie.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
the explosion would taste pretty good, though
Is there some well-known or secret phobia that describes the fear of exploding kitchen appliances? Presently, I am sitting on the couch while my new crock pot is merrily cooking garlic pork for me. BUT THEN! It made a really big sound. Not like a BOOM big sound, but a big sound for how small of a crock pot it is. So immediately I thought, "Good thing I'm so far away from it for when it explodes."
And then there was that time when I tried making cake in the microwave, and I was CERTAIN the whole thing was going to explode so I hid behind a wall. Also, sometimes my freezer makes a noise like a bunch of ice falling from the top shelf down to the bottom shelf, only the ice always already is on the bottom shelf, so what is that sound??
And then there was that time when I tried making cake in the microwave, and I was CERTAIN the whole thing was going to explode so I hid behind a wall. Also, sometimes my freezer makes a noise like a bunch of ice falling from the top shelf down to the bottom shelf, only the ice always already is on the bottom shelf, so what is that sound??
Thursday, February 3, 2011
if you have fur i'll pat your head
Yesterday in the Save-On parking lot I spent 10 minutes petting and old Golden Retriever who was sitting in the back of a pick-up truck. I was raised to NEVER pet a dog without asking the owner first, so I stared at the dog for a few minutes before going in to get groceries, and on my way out I thought, "It's a Golden Retriever. His face is white. I'm sure it's fine."
(Interesting fact: Golden Retrievers bite more people than Rottweilers do. True story.)
I walked up to him the way I learned how to approach nervous dogs at the vet: eyes downward, hand outstretched. He wagged his tail and smiled at me. I patted his head, and he leaned in to my hand, which is what my dog at home does and I miss that. I'm glad I left before the owner came out, or it might have been awkward, but I'm also glad I pet the dog. I really miss petting dogs.
(Interesting fact: Golden Retrievers bite more people than Rottweilers do. True story.)
I walked up to him the way I learned how to approach nervous dogs at the vet: eyes downward, hand outstretched. He wagged his tail and smiled at me. I patted his head, and he leaned in to my hand, which is what my dog at home does and I miss that. I'm glad I left before the owner came out, or it might have been awkward, but I'm also glad I pet the dog. I really miss petting dogs.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
i'm at the susquehannah street jail and i want you to get me out
Today when I got home, the truck was back in my space. Instead of parking beside him, in what should be HIS spot, I parked in visitor's parking which is closer to the front door anyway. Then I stepped in dog crap on the way to my building.
12. Shall We Dance (1937) - Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers. It's about this dude who is a ballet dancer, and this lady who is a tap dancer in comedy shows or something? I didn't quite get what she did. Anyway, he sees a picture of her and is all, "I'm going to marry her." She's all, "Meh." So he follows her onto a boat that's going from Paris to New York, and stalks her until she falls in love with him. (It sounds creepy, but it's Fred Astaire in a top hat and tails so it's charming.) Meanwhile, there is this strange lady who used to work with Fred Astaire who is obsessed with him, and to make her leave him alone he says that he's actually been married this whole time. She spreads the word around, and people assume that he's married to the tap dancing lady, since they've been hanging out on the boat. She, being Ginger Rogers, gets super mad about this and leaves. Then, in order to quell the rumors of their marriage, they decide to get married for real and then divorced for real, so people will leave them alone. Of course, instead of getting divorced for real, they fall in love for real and stay married.
What I liked was Ginger Rogers! She's fantastic. She's so pretty and funny and doesn't take any crap from Fred Astaire. (Except when he stalks her into loving him. I thought she'd be too smart for that.) I also liked the storyline, and the supporting cast was pretty great. There were lots of little funny bits, like when the floor manager of the hotel gets stuck in jail and he's trying to explain to Fred Astaire's manager which jail he's at but he ends up having to spell everything and it goes on for like ten minutes, of him just spelling things. It's way funnier than it sounds.
What I didn't like was that sometimes they danced for too long and I got bored. Also, the lady who was obsessed with Fred Astaire had no eyebrows. Literally no eyebrows. It was weird.
12. Shall We Dance (1937) - Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers. It's about this dude who is a ballet dancer, and this lady who is a tap dancer in comedy shows or something? I didn't quite get what she did. Anyway, he sees a picture of her and is all, "I'm going to marry her." She's all, "Meh." So he follows her onto a boat that's going from Paris to New York, and stalks her until she falls in love with him. (It sounds creepy, but it's Fred Astaire in a top hat and tails so it's charming.) Meanwhile, there is this strange lady who used to work with Fred Astaire who is obsessed with him, and to make her leave him alone he says that he's actually been married this whole time. She spreads the word around, and people assume that he's married to the tap dancing lady, since they've been hanging out on the boat. She, being Ginger Rogers, gets super mad about this and leaves. Then, in order to quell the rumors of their marriage, they decide to get married for real and then divorced for real, so people will leave them alone. Of course, instead of getting divorced for real, they fall in love for real and stay married.
What I liked was Ginger Rogers! She's fantastic. She's so pretty and funny and doesn't take any crap from Fred Astaire. (Except when he stalks her into loving him. I thought she'd be too smart for that.) I also liked the storyline, and the supporting cast was pretty great. There were lots of little funny bits, like when the floor manager of the hotel gets stuck in jail and he's trying to explain to Fred Astaire's manager which jail he's at but he ends up having to spell everything and it goes on for like ten minutes, of him just spelling things. It's way funnier than it sounds.
What I didn't like was that sometimes they danced for too long and I got bored. Also, the lady who was obsessed with Fred Astaire had no eyebrows. Literally no eyebrows. It was weird.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
civil war on my foot
Some dude in a pick-up truck has been parking in my spot. The first day when I came home from work I stopped in the middle of the road without even making sure there was nobody behind me, because I was so surprised. He remained there for two days, and at that point I called the guy in charge of the building. "Uh," I said (because I always get really awkward when talking to the guy in charge of the building), "there's been a truck in my spot for two days." I hastened to add that I met some guy by the mailbox who was new, and I thought it might be him, and he just didn't know about the spots, because I didn't want him to get towed.
(Interesting side note: I am the worst at meeting new people unexpectedly. The guy said, "Hi, I'm new." I said, "Hi! What floor are you on?" He said, "Third." I said, "Oh, I'm on the second. Well, nice to meet you!" Like, seriously, of all the things to ask a new person, I inquired as to what FLOOR he lived on? And then I think I came off like he wasn't as cool as me, because he lived on the lame third floor. I'm so terrible at people.)
Anyway, so the guy in charge of the building said he would take care of it the next day, which was Sunday, but yesterday he still didn't do anything about it. Today when I came home from work, the truck was gone, but it was GONE gone, not moved. So I parked in my spot, because it's MY SPOT, and I made sure my parking pass was displayed visibly for all to see; nevertheless, I am still worried the pick-up truck guy is a jerk and will crash into and/or key my vehicle because he thinks it's his spot.
On another note, the baby toe on my right foot is experiencing some civil conflict. The right half of the toenail would like to exit the foot, but the left half has decided to stay. The right half is catching on everything in an attempt to aid its escape. Since my baby toenails are tiny and I don't even know what job they do, I tried to help it by cutting the right half off with nail clippers. Instead of being grateful, however, the little leftover bit on the right side has become invisible so I can't see it to cut it, but it's STILL catching on things. I think what I might need to do is drop a hammer on my toe, and then the nail will FALL off and the left half and I can go on with our merry lives.
(Interesting side note: I am the worst at meeting new people unexpectedly. The guy said, "Hi, I'm new." I said, "Hi! What floor are you on?" He said, "Third." I said, "Oh, I'm on the second. Well, nice to meet you!" Like, seriously, of all the things to ask a new person, I inquired as to what FLOOR he lived on? And then I think I came off like he wasn't as cool as me, because he lived on the lame third floor. I'm so terrible at people.)
Anyway, so the guy in charge of the building said he would take care of it the next day, which was Sunday, but yesterday he still didn't do anything about it. Today when I came home from work, the truck was gone, but it was GONE gone, not moved. So I parked in my spot, because it's MY SPOT, and I made sure my parking pass was displayed visibly for all to see; nevertheless, I am still worried the pick-up truck guy is a jerk and will crash into and/or key my vehicle because he thinks it's his spot.
On another note, the baby toe on my right foot is experiencing some civil conflict. The right half of the toenail would like to exit the foot, but the left half has decided to stay. The right half is catching on everything in an attempt to aid its escape. Since my baby toenails are tiny and I don't even know what job they do, I tried to help it by cutting the right half off with nail clippers. Instead of being grateful, however, the little leftover bit on the right side has become invisible so I can't see it to cut it, but it's STILL catching on things. I think what I might need to do is drop a hammer on my toe, and then the nail will FALL off and the left half and I can go on with our merry lives.
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