Wednesday, April 26, 2006

In Typical Mahanese Fashion

I'd never - not at any point in the approximate past 18 years - noticed how far off the ground the bus step was. Until today.

I wasn't looking down because I knew it was only one step, and so as normal human behaviour would have me do, I took a step down. And quickly realised that the ground was way farther away from my foot than I had anticipated.

Rather than taking it like a woman who possesses any semblance of grace, I opted to instead attempt to reach the ground faster. This logic made me defy gravity and fly out of the bus at an alarmingly rapid rate. My arms were flailing, too.

But at least I didn't fall.

Will the insanity ever stop?

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Tony Curran

Edit: I originally wrote and published this 'in the future' on December 26th, 2006. At that time, things will get hectic for me in terms of my personal life and I will need to take a couple of weeks to regain perspective. I opted to push this back a few months, because actors are the last thing of interest on this blog and don't want anyone to misunderstand what One Female Canuck is about should they come here during my brief sabbatical. Enjoy!

I have received some really lovely emails from fans of this man. Over a year ago, I posted about the Beowulf & Grendel premiere at TIFF and somewhere in there mentioned that I had fun meeting Tony Curran. At the time, I cropped myself out of the following photos and sent them - as recommended by gerardbutler(dot)net to the really nice folks at tonycurranonline(dot)com.

For the many of you who have asked: He is a generous man, a flirt, inquisitive and equally quiet. And yes, he has a supreme body (this, K discovered when she took a photo with him and touched his chest and declared “Oh my!” I won't post that photo unless I have her explicit permission to do so. I'll ask and get back to you sometime in the near future). I believe he’d just finished shooting Underworld Evolution (someone can confirm or correct this, please) and so was in top form. If I remember correctly, we discussed the film and I asked him about Speedy, who I have loved since Felicity.

Here are parts of our conversation, which I think many of you will find amusing:
“What’s your name?”
“Maha.”
“Maha? What nationality is that?”
“It’s an Arabic name.”
“Where are you from, Maha?”
“Palestine.”
“Palestine?”
“Yes.”
“Hello, Palestine.”
“Greetings, Scotland."

tony curran0
...

“This jacket of yours is nice, Scotland.”
“Thanks, Palestine.”
“Sure thing.”
“It’s Armani, touch it.”
“Oh my God, it’s so soft.”
“I know. It feels perfect on.”
“Fits brilliantly, I can see that.”

tony curran1
...

“Nice hat.”
“Thanks. Try it on.”
“Ok. I’m going to take a picture in it.”
“Ok.”
“Without you, Scotland. Just with the hat.”
“Ok.”
(Little did I know, at the time, the sort of attention this “cap” of his receives from his fans. If anyone would care to explain this to me, please feel free to do so...)

And here is the worst photo I have ever taken in my life (check out my awesome two chins):
tony curran2

There you have it, fans of Tony Curran, that’s all there is to say, other than, I hope you get to meet him and have as much fun as I did doing so...

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Tuesday, April 25, 2006

'Silent Hill' reviewed

I rarely post reviews of movies, but enjoyed this one enough to make note of a few things.

This film is a visual masterpiece. If Marilyn Manson's videos were turned into a full-length feature film, this would be it. Not since the release of "The Cell" in 2000 has a film possessed the same brilliant and disturbing imagery.

A special mention of the unique sound editing used in this film; some new tricks that will add to the atmosphere of this film and make your skin crawl.

Spoilers ahead, so stop reading if you don't want to know what happens. Come back after you've seen it (which you should) and comment or email me, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

There are three notably camp parts that'll make you chuckle:
.1. The alien that comes at the female there's-no-way-she's-a-real-cop-with-boobs-that-huge-on-
a-frame-that-tiny-and-why-is-she-walking-funny-anyway-and-oh-my-god-
she’s-trying-to-be-lori-petty-in-tank-girl
cop.
What was that 'alien'? It wasn't scary and her reaction to it made me laugh.

.2. The nurse zombies in heels and with fake boobs. When they started break-dancing, they looked like the understudies of the understudies of an off, off, off Broadway production of Little Orphan Annie. Was that really necessary, Mr. Screenwriter?

.3. The music during the 'Allessa comes out from the bowels of hell to wreak even MORE havoc on the lunatic fanatics chilling out in the church' scene. It was organ music. That's all you need to know.

Random questions about the 'plot' (up for discussion >> SEE THE MOVIE):
.A. Silent Hill's obviously some sort of parallel dimension (as illustrated when Rose's husband feels her presence at the school and then later at home); is it purgatory?
.B. Is Allessa's birth father a man or a demon?
.C. What's up with Allessa's nurse? She seems like she’s having a bad day. Or eternity. Why is she with Allessa?
.D. What does it mean when the dark of Allessa stares into the open eye of Sharon?
.E. Are Sharon and Rose dead or are they actually alive and prisoners of Silent Hill?
.F. Is there going to be a sequel? There are a lot of holes in this story and I'm curious enough to want them answered.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Gerry Butler Would Have Done Well To Carry Elastoplast(s) In His Purse

While at dinner in Montreal on Friday, two of the women at the table proceeded to empty the contents of their purses on to the table. It was an awesomely fun show & tell and although I wanted to do it (because I love games), I didn't want to appear a follower and so chose to keep my personals personal and inside of my purse. (But when I got home, I emptied the contents of my purse and ogled the pretties.)

Earlier this week, Coquette did it on her blog and *baaaaaa* I decided to follow her blogsteps.

In my purse there are the following items:
- 2004 / 2005 & 2006 leather Agenda (my life for the last three years is in here)
- Moleskin address book in black (I've even dated when I've added new people; a sort of diary/phone book, really)
- 1 pen
- 1 permanent marker (for people who want my autograph)
- box of Elastoplast Heavy Fabric bandages (hello summer shoes)
- sunglasses
- MAC tinted lip conditioner in pink
- MAC clear lipglass
- MAC lip liner chestnut
- Rosebud strawberry lip balm (smells & tastes like strawberry shortcake)
- a mirror
- wallet
- two hair elastics (black, please)
- a small jewelery bag filled with bobby pins
- mobile
- extra battery for mobile
- pocket pack Kleenex
- GoC taxi chits
- iShuffle
- Advil extra strength gel caps
- writing book

spilled purse

Tag, you're it.

Oh! Also while at dinner, we were chatting about celebrities. One of the women mentioned how she adored the Pitt. Said I didn't fancy him at all, think his face somewhat repulsive.

She challenged (her word not mine) me to "name one man better looking than Brad the Pitt". I said: Gerry Butler. All but one at the table asked "Who?" Turns out, the lone person who knew him had served as a Spartan extra on the set of 300. (How interesting.) Naturally, I enquired about the size and comfort of the leather Speedo (but only because I care about Gerry Butler's comfort, you see). Surprisingly, the leather Speedos were quite comfortable. It was the sandals on the feet of the Spartans that gave rise to the pains in their ass (asses?). Apparently, the sandals were "pieces of wood with some leather used to tie them on". (Ouch.) They sound like the way my summer shoes feel.

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Friday, April 21, 2006

To Be A Girl Is, Like, Totally Awesomely

I overheard the following conversation earlier today between two boys, neither of whom is over the age of 18. One of these boys was excitable, whereas the other was not. They were the perfect ying to the other's yang.

"IGotARAISEMANtoLikeNINEDOLLARSanHour!"
"sweeeeeet"
"YEAHTOTALLYAWESOMEwithTheRaiseICanTOTALLYworkAllSummer
AndTOTALLYlikeSaveEnoughMoneyAndPAYFORSCHOOLifIHaveTo
AndThen..."
"hang out"
"NOMANjustMaybeBUYACAREVEN"
"sweeeeeet"
"ButThenIWasThinkingICOULDTOTALLYJUSTLIKEMOVETOCALGARY"
"and live with the farmers"
"WORKThereManCusLikeAtMcDonaldsInCalgaryTHEYPAYYOULIKE
30BUCKSANHOURMANthat'sLikeDOUBLEnoFOURTIMEStheAmount
OfMoneyTheyPayYouHereMAN!"
"sweeeeet"
"TOTALLYITHOUGHTWECOULDALLGOANDLIVEINAHOSTEL..."
"with european chicks"
"NOWE'DBEHANGINGOUTWITHTHEFARMER'SLET'SGOMAN!"
"sweeeeeet"
"DoYouKnowTheDrinkingAgeInCALGARYMan!"
"21"
"EIGHTEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! EIGHTEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EIGHTEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"sweeeeeet"
"YeahAndCusWe'dBeLivingInAHostelWithTheFarmersWe'dSave
LikeAlmostALLOFOURMONEYMANCusInsteadOfHavingSEVEN
BARSToGetTrashedAtWe'dOnlyLikeHAVEONEBARDUDE!!!!"
"duuuuuuuude"

A lull of silence is suddenly broken by the sound of the quieter guy's thought worthy of 'magnum opus' labeling:
"dude. We could go to Calgary and prostitute ourselves."
"NO!"
"yeaaaaaaaaaa man. We could screw 1000 hot chicks and charge 50 bucks each. Or. Like, we could screw 50 ugly chicks and charge, like, A THOUSAND BUCKS EACH. That's like [I swear to God this was his math] FIVE GRAND MAN. Yeaaaaaa!"
"NOI'MNOTBIGONTHEPROSTITUTIONIDEA! WeHaveToWorkAtMcDicks!"
"Whatever dude. I'm goin' to Calgary. Tomorrow!"

Sad dumb creatures.

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Thursday, April 20, 2006

Because I'm Vain Like This

World Cup no. 1

The Turks didn't make it. Poor Ilhan (none of this pretty).
ilhan

As promised, here are my predictions for the teams that will advance to Stage 2:

Group A: Germany & Poland

Group B: England & Sweden

Group C: This group BLOWS! I can't believe that Argentina and the Netherlands were picked together. Fifa should be shot.
…and Uzi will kill me for this, but although I think that Argentina *may* advance, I don't think the Netherlands will.
In fact, I'm going with Cote d'Ivoire because of Drogba (Chelsea's brilliant striker).

Group D: Portugal & Iran (they're fierce; don't be surprised if they advance)

Group E: Italy (although they have a tendency to be weak)& Czech Republic

Group F: Brazil (unless their egos get in the way) & Japan

Group G: France & Switzerland

Group H: Spain & Tunisia

We'll see how I did in a couple of months.

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Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Tamoor

Eeeeep! Tamer Hagras is in a new Arabic soap opera. It's called...Oh I already forgot. Something about my heart. Or his heart. Or their hearts calling out to one another...

But we don't care about the title do we? We don't even care about the script, DO WE? All we care about is that TAMER HAGRAS IS ON OUR TV!

Wow. Am squeeing and speaking in the collective.

And batoota's cut his hair (el7amd lilah ya3ni) and not grown a mustache (ya habib albi) but he's not got his saksooka (ya 3eebu) which makes me think I really should send him a little note and ask him to dull that razor of his.

But his web master needs to update those photos STAT 'cus I really don't like them. And if anyone's any measure of anything, I'm the measure of what makes Tamer a sex bomb (wallahi bas bi'sowar ya mama).

Bismilah w mashallah, he is something to behold. And he's a Scorpio bardu.

Men in my life seem to all be born between Sept 1st and New Year's Eve. I can't get away from it. Ergo it's only natural I love Tamer.

And yes: he is married and has offspring. But he's allowed to marry three more and I don't mind standing in line a little longer. Our babies would be so cute' my brains & his body* AS SOON AS THEY'RE BORN.

batoota -- little ducky (a term of endearment in the Arabic language)
el7amd lilah ya3ni -- thank God, really
ya habib albi -- love of my heart (another common term of endearement)
saksooka -- goatee
ya 3eebu -- shame on him, but in a cute way
wallahi bas bi'sowar ya mama -- I swear only in photos, mum
Bismilah w mashallah -- this is a religious turn of phrase you say when you see something beautiful and don't want to give it the ol evil eye.
bardu -- Also.

*Am just teasing. I'm certain he'd contribute many more things to our children…like the "photogenic gene".

FYI: Whereas Gerry Butler serves as fodder for my North American alter ego, Tamer Hagras does so for the Middle Easterner in me.

On Believing

Setting Islam aside for a moment, I want to simply address the issue of believing.

For a while, I thought that we could make ourselves believe. That we could in fact choose the Truth, that we could will ourselves into believing.

In hindsight, my initial feeling was to see the above as arrogant in nature until someone who I respect and admire greatly - an individual who I turn to for guidance in terms of my own faith - said to me “You have a clarity of vision about God that I do not have”. I didn’t understand what that meant initially and so I wrote it down in an effort to try and reflect and hopefully understand it later.

Two days earlier, I had heard Tariq Ramadan say: “People believe they choose the Truth, but what they don’t understand is that the Truth chooses them.”

No one can force themselves to believe and no one can will or choose to do it. I once argued that I could choose not to believe, but I now understand that would be impossible for me. Impossible.

It is the same for the non-believer. They can’t force themselves to believe in God. “…God alone has the power to guide hearts…When it comes to conversion, the heart’s dispositions, faith, and love, there is no logic, and all that remains is the extraordinary power of the divine.” (In The Footsteps of the Prophet, Tariq Ramadan, p.65)

Even for those who believe, they may tell you that there is nothing of rationality in their belief (my belief is different, but anyway…). For many, faith and belief have nothing to do with the rational and I finally understand that’s what converts mean when they say: “It just happened” or “A light went on” or “Something clicked”.

There is nothing logical about this – most especially not when the individual speaking came across something haphazardly and for which they weren’t actively searching.

Naturally, as an individual who possesses the capacity to think, I can investigate and accept the basis and the moral teachings of a religion and appreciate all it has to offer, but it does not necessarily follow that I will then become a believer, because whereas belief is clear for some of us, it is completely irrational for others. For me, belief is two-fold and comes when we see with both our hearts and our eyes.

I could give you a list of things that I would argue stand between an individual and belief, but I realize that wouldn’t serve any purpose because I can’t “list” or “outline” the divine.

Perhaps the road to belief and conversion is to simply sit alone (alone, alone, alone) quietly, humbly and with complete humility: ask for help. Tautological, yes; to a believer, completely rational.

From what I’ve been able to understand so far, I think I was leaning toward the correct in one thing: we have to want to find Him sincerely, without deception or pretence. This doesn’t reference what we say to others about our search, but rather it references where we are in terms of that search within our hearts, when we take off our masks and are honest with ourselves.

We can choose to look at any given situation and put holes in it or we can choose to look at the same situation and choose to see the unity and completeness within. This vision has to be ours alone when we sit with ourselves in silence and solitude. When we ask questions, the questions have to be posed with a sincere effort to find Him. Depending on the glasses we choose to wear, we will ask different questions and we will receive different answers.

Conscience of it or not, our heart has to be looking for Him. For some, this can be a challenge in self awareness (e.g. how we situate ourselves relative to our psychology, current environment and history) and self discipline and this is, perhaps, where when we are actively searching, humility comes in its simplest and yet most complex form: asking for help. Ultimately, the one thing I believe is that God guides the hearts of those who seek Him out; He helps us when we need Him and seek Him sincerely. This is a standard we keep in our daily relations with others, it is one that should too be kept as the highest standard when we are trying to develop and understand our relationship with Him. Think about that.

Now. If we don’t know how to ask for help, we need to learn…but I think that if we listen carefully to our heart, it would know exactly how to ask for help. I couldn't have worded it better than Ramadan when he wrote: “initiation into humility [is] understood as a necessary stage in the experience of faith”.(Ibid., 7.)

Lessons to learn: Stronger and deeper faith & patience.

Interesting stuff…

Am I supposed to write: Wa Allah-u ya'lam?

Right. I promise to write something really funny soon – I have received every single one of your emails and your well wishes and I laughed at the “I will drown in my computer if you don’t write something funny soon, I swear to God!"

(Note to me: 07.05.23, O)

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The Time My Uncle Dragged Me Across The Street And Then Laughed At Me

But first, you must read this entry by Cadeaux because it’s one of the funniest things I've read in a long time.

Back to the actual entry (sorry it's taken me so long to get to this other half of the original 'Don't Do It Alone').

One evening, my uncle decided to run out and pick up some movies for us. It was freezing cold and whereas his wife decided to stay home and warm, I volunteered to weather...the weather...with him.

I was bundled up but still cold. And it was slippery. And I linked my arm through my uncle's arm 'cus he's a big strong man who would block the wind from my face, if I positioned my face just so behind his shoulder and let him lead.

What I didn't count on was that the freezing ass cold would render my uncle some sort of deaf guy who had to run rather than walk. And I'm sure I mentioned it was slippery, but just in case I didn't: It was slippery.

We were standing facing the street and although there were no cars coming, my uncle started to run across the street (with me still linked to his arm, because he possessed some weird death grip capabilities with his bicep and I couldn't pull away no matter how hard I tried).

I distinctly remember that he was smiling. But it was cold (& slippery) so maybe his face was just frozen.

As soon as he stepped off the sidewalk and on to the street, I slipped.

It was a strange subtle fall. I didn't actually tumble forward or anything; but, rather, my knees sort of went all weird and before I knew it, my feet were both behind me instead of being proper and being beneath me. I blame my uncle.

He was running. With me attached to his arm, bumping along sideways because I couldn’t pull my feet up fast enough. I was also 23, so it’s not like I was a small child where this sort of thing could go unnoticed. (Couldn’t he tell he was dragging my full weight?)

As I was being dragged across the street, I kept repeating “I fell”, but my uncle was ignoring me and smiling that crazy frozen smile and just RUNNING away from NO CARS.

When we crossed the six lanes, he finally stopped running and noticed that I was sort of dangling off his arm. He stopped and asked “What are you doing? Why are you like that?” Because I still hadn’t managed to pull my feet up and place them beneath me, I was positioned sort of sideways and farther down than he’d remembered, staring up at him and laughing like a maniac.

It took him a while to figure out what had happened and then he stood back and laughed at me and my dirty jeans.

OH MY GOD this story's made me remember The Time I Waved At A Friend in Southam Hall And Tobogganed Down The Stairs Because I Had To Look Up To Wave At Her And I Missed The First Step And My Best Friend Just Laughed At Me And Took Off. And also the time I Fell In The Middle Of The World Exchange Plaza And Everyone Stopped Drinking Their Cappuccinos To See Me Do Just That (& Still They Didn't Care). Will have to blog about them soon.

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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Music To Download

I’ve noticed that it’s been some time since I gave you a few recommendations and so today you’ll get four. They’re all political. They’re all rap. The last one’s as hardcore as they come and I recommend you sample it before buying.

.1. “The Point of No Return” by Immortal Technique
.2. “Harlem Streets” by Immortal Technique
.3. “Field N*gga Boogie (XLR8R Remix)” by Public Enemy & Immortal Technique
.4. “Blackout Special” by Scram Jones & Immortal Technique

…you see the trend…
Rock introduced me to Immortal Technique.

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The Other 1/2 of That Incredible Karaoke Duo: LAD

As promised a couple of weeks back...I present to you LAD:

china doll1

*Do believe his legs may be smoother than most women's.*

And LAD no. 2:
china doll 2

His real name is Edward Wong and his stage name is China Doll. How cute is it that he and Carmen's names both begin with the letter 'C'. It's almost as cute as the little person all in pink.

Your blog mistress ("I") was walking down the street when I was assaulted by the brilliance of a local newspaper's cover. It was LAD in all his glory. I brought it home and photographed the photo just for your pretty eyes.

AY DOLOR! Donde estas la STEEL SPIRAL TUBING photo? (In case you're wondering, that's half Spanish, a dash of French and a lot of Stupid.) The shame is there was no photo of the STEEL SPIRAL TUBING.

...And my Favourite Quote From The Article Award goes to Suzanne Carte who brilliantly put it as thus:

"I love how [karaoke] allows you to be silly and stupid. Everybody wants to be in the limelight. Even if you fucking suck, karaoke allows you to fucking suck. Karaoke is what reminds you that you can't sing, this is the reality check."

Special consideration goes to Xtra Capital who printed the piece on China Doll & to the photographer who took the photo...whose not named anywhere in the article. But I could be blind.

Monday, April 17, 2006

20/20 in Montreal

While in Montreal, I needed to get some work completed and so before meeting a friend for dinner, I headed off to Café Dépôt at the corner of de la Montagne & Maisonneuve. As most of you are already aware, I have a tendency to completely zone out. If I’m concentrating on something, I could be staring at my mother and not recognize her. Despite this bizarre idiosyncrasy, my close friends have learned to love and ignore forgive me. Unfortunately, not the person who I encountered at the Café.

I was seated at the corner table by the window next to the Maisonneuve entrance. Every so often, I would look up and peek down the street in search of A who was on foot and coming from St-Denis to pick me up for yummy sushi (the best in Montreal can be found at Sakura).

Because I was writing, I’d taken my glasses off & naturally, my vision wasn’t 100%.

At one point I looked up for A and instead saw a really cute little girl who couldn’t have been over the age of 6. She was standing outside the window waiting for her mom who was a few feet away. I thought she was completely adorable dressed all in pink and in a tiny pair of jeans and matching jean jacket; her mom had even let her carry her own matching pink umbrella!

As I was smiling and staring at her thinking how charming she looked, she turned toward me. When we made eye contact, I gave her a smile and a wave that I save for children. I pointed at her little pink outfit and pink umbrella and with random expressions I also save for children, I indicated how much I liked what she was wearing (I’m friendly that way).

Her reaction caught me off guard because although I couldn't really see clearly, I could tell that she was angry. This 5 or 6 year old kid’s body language was indicative of the fact that she was quite immediately pissed off. I assumed she was upset about something having to do with her mom, until her mom walked over and looked equally angry…while looking in my direction. I looked behind me to see if anyone was being rude, but I was the only one in their line of vision (something which confused me further).

The little girl was pointing her finger at me when the mother grabbed her by the arm and started walking her away (where they stopped a couple of feet later waiting for the light at the intersection).

Please remember this all took place over the span of perhaps one minute and a half…

I honestly had no idea what the hell I’d done that had upset this little kid and her mom.

Until I decided to put on my glasses.

And found that the little 5 or 6 year old girl at whom I’d been making cutesy faces was in fact a 20-something year old little person. And chances are, that wasn’t her mom.

I was a little dumbfounded that she would be wearing so MUCH pink...when she's little (and just in case you missed it the first couple of times, even her f&%$ing umbrella was pink). And it's Easter, anyway...and why would she want to look like an Easter egg? I'm already going to hell, this'll just speed up that process.

But really...had she been wearing chain, black, silver and red, I would have probably still done the same stupid thing hesitated with the cutesy faces.

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Wednesday, April 12, 2006

If My Head Were A “Rrrroll Up The Rim To Win”

99% of the time, it would read: PLEASE PLAY AGAIN / RÉESSAYEZ S.V.P. & save me and a lot of others much pain and frustration.

Happy Wednesday.

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Monday, April 10, 2006

A 1/2 of An Incredible Karaoke Duo: CARMEN

I got this photo – sans bubble captions – from the brilliant photographer James MacLennan.

Mr. James: If you don’t want me using this photo, please let me know and I’ll pull it immediately.

Ok. The one on the right is “Carmen” (a.k.a. Andy Warhol). If you don’t know what I’m writing about, read me first and then me.

carmen

If I have to haul ass back to Shanghai in order to get you a photo of LAD, I promise you will have it within the next few weeks.

I’ll title it: The Other 1/2 of That Incredible Karaoke Duo: LAD

How He Slips In

Since Saturday evening at Shanghai have been contemplating how the large Asian dude (LAD) slips into his STEEL SPIRAL outfit.

I thought I’d share my thoughts with you on this; feel free to post your own imaginings…

LAD locates a spot near a wall.

He lays the STEEL SPIRAL on the ground with the pointy end (that sits about one foot above LAD’s head) facing the wall.

LAD crawls into the STEEL SPIRAL.

Andy Warhol stands behind & vertical to LAD.

Uncomfortably, LAD scoots his large (yet what must be flexible) body all the way to the top of the STEEL SPIRAL.

Once LAD’s comfortably face down in the STEEL SPIRAL, Andy begins his handy-work.

Andy braces his right foot against the wall, while grabbing on to the STEEL SPIRAL midway down LAD’s body. Andy’s really tall in my world.

He heaves and wheezes and puffs and grunts as he pulls LAD up a wee bit.

Because LAD is face down, parts of his body (including his head) are uncomfortably pressing against the STEEL SPIRAL. (Such is the price of fashion.)

As soon as possible, Ginghamp steps in front of LAD and pushes him up and away as Andy pulls.

Andy takes his foot off the wall.

Ginghamp smiles coyly.

LAD ignores Ginghamp.

Ginghamp starts to cry.

Andy Warhol fixes his toupee and lipstick.

Ungrateful LAD grabs another large martini and shuffles to the front of the room to grab the microphone with his free hand.

The audience contemplates pushing LAD over so that they can watch him roll down Somerset.

Instead, they choose to simply be thankful for the STEEL SPIRAL because it means he can’t moon them as they munch on their Kung Pao chicken.

How your blog mom wishes you could see this guy.

Clint Eastwood Watches Karaoke Porn

It was a double birthday night Saturday evening with S and M (heh) celebrating the day their mothers gave birth to them. We went for dinner and Karaoke at Shanghai on Somerset. Am not a Sadist, therefore didn’t Karaoke.

.1. M gave birth to her own bundle of joy eight months back. She remains a normal female and refuses to become a MOTHER OF THE UNIVERSE. This was most obvious when her and S did an interpretive Waltz to a song that was being Karaoke-ed. A Barbara Streisand song, nonetheless.

.2. Re aforementioned eight month old bundle of joy, “it”…the baby in question is…

Well. For starters, it’s beautiful.

And then for runners up, it’s got a poker face. It’s weird. Not the baby, but it’s expression. If someone were to package Clint Eastwood today as an expression worn by babies, this would be it. And this baby doesn’t react to any cute smiley faces you may have; it’ll just shame your reject ways with its unblinking stare. It doesn’t blink. I pay attention to blinkage because people who blink a lot make me nervous and dizzy.

.3. Shanghai turns into a crazy They’re Here They’re Queer Karaoke bar on Saturday nights. The Karaoke machine is run by two guys, one of whom is Andy Warhol reincarnate, and a second guy who almost made me cry. Especially when he swung his bare ass around and mooned the paying customers (because that’s what we want to see while eating Kung Pao Chicken, asshole). (He would read that as: because that’s what we want to see while eating Kung Pao Chicken: Asshole!.)

He was a large Asian man wearing: large square sunglasses which were partially hidden by a large fur hat which was also hiding a portion of his large Heidi-esque long black braids.

On his body, he wore a large white skirt, which was partially covered by a gigantic (notice: not large) light blue lingerie inspired moo moo made of see-through material that was pleated and had twirly wire at the end, so that you wouldn’t miss it’s FEATHER LINING. The moo moo took up half of the restaurant; the guy wearing it took up the other half of the restaurant. (We were forced to sit in the washroom for the Karaoke portion of the evening.)

To complete his look, he wore large clogs and carried a large martini.

He came over to wish S a happy birthday (M had already left because Clint Eastwood wasn’t happy with the volume of the Karaoke). Right after he hugged her, they looked over at the same spot and smiled large as he held up his martini for the picture.

Only. No one had a camera. This made me point and laugh. (A whole lot.)

As we were leaving, he changed outfits and nearly knocked me over as he walked past. This time, I couldn’t even see what was directly against his skin because I was mesmerized (& blinded) by the STEEL SPIRAL TUBE that was wrapped around his entire large body. I don't know how he slipped it on, but I don’t think he should wear it in a lightning storm.

.4. There was a guy there I nicknamed Ginghamp. But we’re not going to talk about him; this is just a shout out to Shawn (that’s correct > the very same Shawn who hangs out on this blog when he’s not otherwise engaged in scriptwriting). We had a few great laughs and he’s promised to write a script where I’m the main character.

That’s a lie. He made no such promise…but I’ll corner him and make him make that promise next I see him. HI SHAWN!

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Tuesday, April 04, 2006

On Being A Flake

.1. This past weekend I was seated at dinner and flanked by three women who have all recently become mothers.

At one point in the evening, I was quietly zoning out eating dinner when one of the women decided to pretend that my earlobe was her nipple.

I was chatting with myself enjoying my chicken when she started to gently tug on my earlobe and explain “I think that this is the exact feeling of pumping for breast milk”.

Seriously.

So here’s the thing which is not going to be a surprise to any of you: I’m not really a mature person (e.g. I still laugh and blush when adults make the universal two-handed signal for “intercourse” but what they’re really talking about is the way the jack slides in and out of the door properly and I’m not really sure it’s a jack that slides and I’m not even really sure it’s into a door, but whatever…). My reaction was to choke on my chicken and almost have it come up through my nose, much like soda pop when I laugh and sip at the same time.

As I choked, none of the three MOTHERS OF THE UNIVERSE reacted or cared. I turned red as I, lone singleton, swatted at my earlobe. (It must be because my womb has not yet fulfilled it’s cosmic requirement.)

I showered as soon as I got home.

.2. We all know how I feel about futbol, so consider this ample warning that my blog will have many futbol references during the World Cup. I’ve already prepped everyone at work…thought it only fair to do the same here.

.3. I was recently speaking with a man about his children and asked him how many he had. When he responded with “three”, I was kind of just standing there zoning out and smiling at him. In quickity split fashion, I realized that ‘three’ queued a social requirement for me to respond. I smiled wide and firmly said “good number!”

”Good number!” At that moment, it felt like the most appropriate response and I was so proud of myself, I was in fact beaming.

I won't lie to you. The man looked at me funny before he walked away. But only after giving me a strange nod in acknowledgement of my flaky & enthusiastic Miss. Bright-Smile response. Am considering carrying pompoms for all future attempts at social interaction.

.4. I was recently in quite a rush – which is often, because I find that my mouth can’t keep up with my brain – and described myself as “self-defecating” instead of “self-deprecating”. I really shouldn’t have to tell you that was an accident, but for the record: It was.

.5. I’ve recently learned how to html a strikethrough and I am beyond myself with nerd happiness and satisfaction.

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