the final post

it'll most likely be close to a week before i post again. it's that time of the year where i pile all my clothing and shoes into those huge orange garbage bags that people put leaves in, shove them into the corolla and drive for three days. all just to get to school. it's about time i ask myself: is it really worth it? then myself answers, says 'shut up' and i watch tv.

i'm spending my last night in ottawa with 40,000 of my closest friends watching mick jagger run his wrinkly butt around an 8-story stage. i think it's funny that for huge bands like u2 and the 'stones, normally headlining bands like our lady peace are reduced to opening acts. meh. raine maida is a babe-inator.

i have to go dust my basement now.

oh, and if i don't post in 5 days, just wait longer.

final weekend

yesterday was my last day of work. on the bus on the way home, i saw a guy wearing water shoes. he was cute, and it was weird. maybe he's european? that's how i'll justify me still wanting to marry him.

on the way to work, it was a beautiful morning so i decided to snap some final shots of downtown ottawa.

this is the giant spider that is eating all the tourists.











i wonder what this statue thinks while he surveys the situation. i bet it's about how good looking he is.










look. it's some water on a plant. this was taken as i tripped and fell face first into a cement sidewalk. psych!











the canal. which, contrary to popular belief, is pronounced c-anal by local folk. and by local folk, i mean me.















hey, it's the lockes. and look! green scum. how enviro-chic.















these are some flags that i saw. uh, not much to say about them. they're flags.













and this is the peace tower. if you look closely, you can see paul martin in his office. the third one from the left. he's on the phone, probobly with his wife. 'honey, i want shawarma for supper'. yes paul, we all want shawarma.

with special guest...

so i'm perusing the internet over my lunch hour at work as i typically do, and run across an article i first perceive as fiction. surely, this can't be true. i have several problems with the aforementioned article. #1 - christina ricci isn't cool enough to hang around beck. she's a smushed-faced poo, and her career should have ended at casper. #2 - she's not a japanese sushi girl.

now, it's like beck sat down and said, 'who can i invite to collaborate with me on this album who is at the furthest reaches from the music industry?' well beck, you managed to succeed. in fact, you have inspired me to create a list of people that i am going to invite to record on my first album. here is a sampling:

judd hirsch - as the welder from fiji
stockwell day - as the transvestite from leeds
donatella versace - as the brazillian hooker
and tom cruise - as the weirdo scientologist....wait....

oh, and oddly enough i got the new beck cd today too. the critics say it's his best cd since odelay. i think it's grood. e-pro is good.

and christina ricci stinks. but i guess she was kind of okay in the addam's family.

whatever.

the first to speak is the first to lie

one week until the rolling stones concert. i think i'm going to buy me one of those shirts with the tongues on them. that way, i can wear it around. and i think that while i'm wearing it, i'll do that chicken-like dance that mick jagger does. i think i'll make new friends. or new enemies. meh, either way i'll be the coolest cat on my block. maybe even in my 'burb.

i bought the latest qotsa album last week and am obsessed with 'burn the witch'. i know i've mentioned my extreme obession with josh homme before, but i will state it again. the man is, well, sex on legs, to put it frankly. i don't know what it is. i mean, he constantly looks stoned and like he just rolled out bed after an eight day bender. but i'd still break into his house and steal his underwear...and that's not at all weird (because i'd take the clean stuff).

i have nothing else to say, other than i also love tom ford. why are all the most perfect beautiful men always gay? it's like he oozes man from every pore, and us women can't do anything about it. i bet his boyfriend is hot. c'mon guys. leave some for the rest of us.

vanity fair

so i bought the new vanity fair. the girl at 7-11 asked me if i was buying it just because jennifer aniston was on the cover. yes, maybe i am. and maybe i'm going to punch you in the face. now let me pay for my slurpee and guilt magazine in peace.

when i finally went to bed, i was too tired to read the jennifer aniston whine story, so i read half an article on porn stars who are writing biographies. hello. who needs to read one to figure out what happens? we all know you're a skank, why put it down on paper? all those men buying your book will be upset when they find out it's not a picture book.

the article was kind of interesting though, because they talked about how all the porn stars hate having to work with ron jeremy because he's hairy and gross. which is funny, because i often wondered how these women could do what they do with ron jeremy because he is so hairy and gross. turns out they know he's hairy and gross, but they're still skanky enough to put up with it. i guess that's what separates the porn stars from the normal women. wait...isn't it ironic that ron jeremy can only get laid by porn stars?

my tooshie hurts

so i gave my quads and butt a workout at work today. i discovered - through sheer luck - that timing yourself to see how fast you can wheel your rolly chair around the pharmacy is great exercise. oh, and it's 20 seconds. but i got slowed down by the rubber matt, and i had another chair as an obstacle, so if i had the chance to re-do my time, i'm sure it would have been faster.

and now, for my daily weird occurence. some dude sitting at the bus stop where i turn into my street tried to pick me up as i walked home. it started out as he said, 'hey, how are you' and me, being a dumb saskatchewan girl said 'good, how are you'. so, he leans his arm over the back of the bench and says, 'can i talk to you for a second?' stupidly, i slow down, turn around and decide to hear what this guy has to say. 'maybe he wants the time,' i think, or to know when the next bus is coming. 'what's your name' he says....and i get this stupid look on my face, shake my head, and before my brain can calculate a response, he goes, 'ooh, not gonna go there, huh?' so i shake my head, turn away and keep walking. as if that wasn't great in itself, i got a 'have a good day sweetie' as i walked away.

gag me.

now, for future reference to this boy: i would never allow myself to get picked up by someone waiting at a bus stop. this implies that you take the bus. you may call me a hypocrite because yes, i also take the bus. however, i take the bus because i have been forced to by a higher power also known as my parents. hello! i only allow myself to get picked up by strangers if they're driving luxury sports cars and offering me candy.

toot toot

toot toot. that's me tooting my own horn. i made some kick-nuts sushi tonight for supper. being a sushi making virgin, i'm pretty darn happy with how it turned out.

the thing is however, that i can only handle minimun amounts of sushi at a time. i'll get this huge craving for it, eat some, then not be able to eat it again for like three months. so, by the time i finished actually making the sushi, i had had enough of sushi (without even eating any of it). i managed to eat like three pieces before i was sick of it, and from what i tasted, it was pretty dang good.

booyeah, i'm awesome.

lazy arse

lying on my couch on a beautful saturday afternoon is a hard thing to admit. but alas, i spent a good three hours channel surfing, flipping back between the mind-numbing repeat performance of 'dukes of hazzard live at much' and the x-games. god, i had forgotten how hot bmx riders are. and to prove it to you, i was searching for pictures of matt hoffman to post, and came accross this. although he is a looker, he's not who i'm searching for. i love you google image search...i love you and your randomness. i did manage to find a pic though. a little small, but i can still tell he's a babe.

and i really have nothing else witty or of importance to say. not that anything i ever have to say is important...or witty for that matter. so i shall resume my afternoon of lethargy - we're having company for supper, so i will have to prop myself up against a chair and look somewhat interested in my surroundings for an hour or so...perhaps a drink is in order. either that, or the fact that we're having cream puffs for dessert may be enough to keep me conscious through the main course.

i bet it stung

so i was driving home just now from a short voyage out this evening, and saw a dude who looked exactly like frank from trading spaces walk across the street. well, frank minus 45 pounds and a hawaiian shirt.

and now i'm sitting here with a mac's froster and a brand new jane magazine. i like jane, because they swear, talk about dirty things, and this month are featuring an interview with peter krause. btw, i hate whoever took sports night off the air. i hate that there are no blossom re-runs on tv, and yet they still show old bob saget versions of america's funniest home videos. (hello! he wasn't funny the first time around) and i especially hate other things, but i can't think of any in particular right now.

today was a fairly good day on the good-day-o-meter scale. i booked a jeremy haircut for when i'm going back to school, and i'm finally getting an eyebrow wax tomorrow. now i'll have two eyebrows instead of one....and that's a good thing, martha.

well, i'm going to go read freakonomics now, and thank goodness that i'm not a sumo wrestler on a losing streak.

must love...

saw 'must love dogs' tonight. victor webster was the best part. hello, marry me now. and i hate to say it, but john cusack's 'typical neurotic romantic comedy leading man' shpiel is wearing a little thin on me. he's actually bridging on the edge of annoying. but diane lane is cute as a button, so she makes up for it. oh, and dermot mulroney is heaven on legs.

today was hot, and the bus was extra stinky which reminded me of how there is less than one month of public transportation left. soon it will be back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that i'm no fool, ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhh.....

what are you looking at, schwaaaaaaan?