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| Wednesday, November 30, 2005 |
| There's danger even in the simple word hello. . . |
If I was in love with you, this is the mix tape I’d make for you.
At first, you’d read the track listings and you’d find them clichéd and obvious. Maybe not "indie" enough. You'd even let out a patronizing sigh at the inclusion of Jack Johnson song, as you turned and walked away from me.
But then, you'd go home and light a cigarette. And somewhere between the fifth and sixth song, you’d smile, and perform an equally clichéd gesture. You’d be brave enough to send me flowers, which you know I hate.
But I’d love them, because they’d be from you.
Matt Costa- Astair
Bright Eyes- First Day of My Life
The Postal Service- Brand New Colony
Jack Johnson- Cupid
Lowest of the Low- Subversive
Bloc Party- This Modern Love
Tegan and Sara- Underwater
Big Sugar- I Want You Now
Cake- Love You Madly
Aqualung- Brighter than Sunshine
The Meadow- (hed) p.e.
The Futureheads- Hounds of Love
The Perishers- Weekends
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists- Timorous Me
Stellastarr*- My Coco
BigWig- The Girl in the Green Jacket
And then, after the flowers dried and rotted, I’d put these songs on a CD. I’d put it on repeat and write you a long letter, while drinking black coffee in my pajamas, with my hair in a greasy pile on top of my head.
Counting Crows- Anna Begins
The Wrens- She Sends Kisses
Bloc Party- Positive Tension
Stereophonics- Nothing Compares to You (cover)
Emilianna Torrini- To Be Free
Mundy- To You I Bestow
The Magic Numbers- Love is Just a Game
Stars- One More Night
Maximo Park- Postcard of a Painting
Hawksley Workman- Romanticize the Automobile
Jets to Brazil- Sea Anemone
The Stills- Still in Love Song
Jeff Buckley- Last Goodbye
Magenta Lane- The Constant Lover
Matt Pond PA- Closest
The Wrens- Miss Me
I'd finish my coffee, have a shower and get dressed.
The letter would remain unsent, and the CD would become a coaster. |
posted by Jess at 5:53 PM | Permalink |
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| Tuesday, November 29, 2005 |
| Scrabble in the City |
Tonight, I decided to take myself out for the night, to celebrate the fact that I'm finally done term papers.
I determined that Scrabble in the City was in order.
I dressed carefully, fully aware that I was going to lose horribly in every capacity, have a glass of wine and inevitably start to run my mouth. So I put on my owl shirt, all the while giggling to myself- 'cause, you know, owls are wise and stuff.
I'm so clever.
Halfway through my second game though, one of my fellow players actually asked me if I was wearing an owl shirt to appear wise. I kid you not. Who does that? Who would even think to call me on that?
The type of person who spends their Monday nights playing Scrabble, that's who.
And now, I'm one of those people. |
| posted by Jess at 1:40 AM | Permalink |
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| Sunday, November 27, 2005 |
| Guitar-Playing Robots! |
With my final term paper only half written, Sonja and I decided that it was in order to go out dancing. And after spending the last three weeks in a row at Dance Cave, I thought it was necessary to go someplace new. So we decided to check out Neutral for "Eat Your Greens" in Kensington, which had been billed to me by a classmate as 'the new Dance Cave, except with hotter people.'
I love hot people! I actually heartily support attractive people congregating in one main location.
Needless to say, Sonja was also sold on the idea.
When we got out of the cab, we ran into Charles, Andy and Brendan. However, they were headed elsewhere, and we decided to ditch them in our quest for hot people.
Sadly though, Eat Your Greens only had a few people to offer us in that department, and they were all couples. This was at around midnight. "Maybe it's one of those really late night bars?" Sonja said wistfully.
Turns out it was. However, there was still just a surplus of females and couples instead of the promised amount of attractive males.
We made the best of it though, dancing to all the music, even though we only collectively recognized about 4 songs all night.
I suspect I probably really liked the fact that the bathroom matched my outfit.
Listen- you try to take a picture with one hand, no flash, after you've had one too many glasses of wine. Yah, that's what I thought.
We came to the conclusion that perhaps this place was "too indie" for us. That idea was solidified when we went to grab our jackets and realized that they had an entire wall covered with drawings of robots playing guitar.
Did the bar you went to last night have drawings of guitar-playing robots on the wall?
That's what I thought. |
| posted by Jess at 1:17 PM | Permalink |
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| Saturday, November 26, 2005 |
| So this is what term papers look like. . . |
This is what term paper season looks like. After spending the last three weeks writing papers and articles for class, I have one left to go for my psychology class.
I developed the perfect body indent in my bed after I spent roughly 7 hours straight yesterday doing research, only taking a 30 minute break to eat some soup and watch Kenny Vs. Spenny.
Yesterday was also Katrina's name day, so Brie baked her a cake.
Happy Name Day Katrina! (After this picture was taken, Kash confessed that she hates sparklers. Who hate sparklers?)
Mmm...extra tender cake.
Katrina with her patron saint, St. Katherine.
We then proceeded to have a lengthy conversation about placenta.
Every day in China, we discuss four main things:
1) Organic cotton.
2) The dishes, and how disgusting they've become.
3) Sex.
4) Some obscure and random topic for the day. (Or as someone pointed out, it's more like five random topics. Yesterday's conversations included mercury in tuna, flouride in the water, placenta trees and night terrors, amongst others.)
These conversations occur every single day without fail, including the organic cotton conversation.
Later in the night, before I went to bed, I became a little bit homesick upon hearing the Chloe was at Tyler's watching the Oiler's game and drinking beer, and that they were headed to the strippers to meet Danny for his birthday. (Nothing makes me homesick like the mention of beer, hockey and the strippers!)
Brie and Mark offered to let me sit on their patented "omni-lap" for consolation purposes. |
| posted by Jess at 1:18 PM | Permalink |
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| Thursday, November 24, 2005 |
| Dead Bodies are Definitely Date Worthy |
So, I've decided that going to see the Dead Body Exhibit at the Space and Science Centre (officially called Body Worlds 2) would make for a strangely sexy date.
Look at it this way: why do first dates go to scary movies? Well, uncomfortable situations breed the need to seek comfort in other people. So there you are, looking at dead bodies, and getting all squeemish. A little hand-holding is in order, don't you think?
Plus there would be the opportunity to make a lot of ill-humoured black jokes. And who doesn't like a dead body?
The sad thing is, this is just one of the many brilliant date ideas I have up my sleeve. |
| posted by Jess at 5:37 PM | Permalink |
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| Mustaches |
I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about mustaches:
I love them.
The End. |
| posted by Jess at 5:04 PM | Permalink |
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| Monday, November 21, 2005 |
| The Quota Revisited |
I just looked at my calendar to realize that the end of November is coming up quickly. Quicker than I expected.
Here's the problem; last year, Katherine upped the date per year quota* to two dates per year.
And I've only been on one.
That leaves me with one month to find a date and go on it. While this may not seem like much of a challenge to a well-versed, intelligent and attractive female like myself, I assure you that it is. Case in point: do you remember that one time when I bought two Jack Johnson concert tickets in April, thinking that five months was a sufficient period of time to find a date, and then ended up taking Courtney** with me?
Yah, I remember that one time.
I also now have the added challenge whereas I go back to Alberta in less than a month, and the period between now and then it's exam period. Maybe I can coerce someone into a study session. Would that be considered a date?
___________________________________________________________
*The date/year quota was established in roughly 2003 by my cousin Katherine. The philosophy behind the date per year quota is that you must go on at least the allotted number of dates per year in order to remind yourself why you don't date in the first place. Otherwise, you will become one of those people who rents Meg Ryan movies and actually cries at the end. (I prefer to cry over parrot documentaries.) In the previous years, my date per year quota was at one date per year, but was upped last Christmas to two dates per year.
**Truth be told, Courtney was a better date than anyone else I know would have been. Why would I ruin Jack Johnson with a random guy for the sake of the quota? I prefer my friends. |
| posted by Jess at 10:45 PM | Permalink |
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| Sunday, November 20, 2005 |
| Wanna Duck? |
Ah, the perfect Friday night at home. Books and beer. What could possibly make this better?
Wait, this could!
After a couple of drinks at Sarah and Sonja's place, we headed to Ram in the Rye for an industrial engineering cowboy-themed fundraiser. (Yeehaw! The Albertan in me came out to play, and Sonja and I started the celebration early by singing along to some classic Nitty Gritty Dirt Band).
To my delight, it turned out Chris was the organizer of the event, complete with the largest belt buckle he could possible find.
Chris lasooing Katie in.
Beer, ah, my dear friend. I've been neglecting you so long in favour of my new acquaintance, wine. I'm really sorry about that. I'll never betray you again. (At least, not until you leave me laying in bed alone again, with a tummyache and morning-after sorrows.)
Sarah's boyfriend, Darren, was visiting from out of town.
Sonja's assymetrical haircut though, is here to stay.
This is hands-down my favourite picture of the night.
Josh is a fellow Albertan (he's from Calgary) but missed the memo that it was a cowboy-themed night. He left his spurs and his pride at home.
I somehow managed to provoke a series of arm-wrestling fights. Sarah kicked Sonja's ass. Sonja kicked my ass. By association, this means that I am never going to mess with Sarah.
Since the cowboy themed night wasn't very busy, we headed uptown (Does Toronto even have an uptown? Or is that phraseology relegated to New York? The streets do slope upwards from the lake, which indicates to me that the U of T campus is uptown. There, that's settled then.) to. . .you guessed it, Dance Cave. It was frigid out, and even the power of Sonja and Charles' matching jackets couldn't keep them warm.
At Dance Cave, we danced. Only one person was apt enough to realize that we were all wearing cowboy shirts. Maybe Sonja's assymetrical haircut managed to confuse all the hipsters into thinking we were being ironic.
Either way, Sonja and I ended up trekking all way back downtown to our respective neighbourhoods. I was in the middle of a rant, when Sonja stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on Church Street, and pointed out this sign to me.
"Wanna Duck?" Uh. . .how is this sexual? Can someone please explain this to us?*
After sleeping in all day, I once again attempted to conquer my final dreaded term paper for psychology class. I was in my pajamas, all tuckered out from the previous evening, when Mat convinced me to come out with him and Court.
(And when I say "convinced me" here is the dialogue of the conversation:
"Jess, why aren't you comign out? C'mon!"
"Well, I dunno. . ."
"Oh, c'mon!"
"I can be ready in 2 and a half minutes."
It took a lot of tricky maneuvring, but Mat certainly conned me into coming out. I didn't even see it coming.)
What weekend isn't complete without the cab shot? However, it must be noted that for once I'm the most sober person in the cab.
Especially when compared to Kevin, who kept beating me at "rock paper scissors" despite his intoxication.
Courtney and Mat tried out their Sears Model poses in front of the wall.
Wait a second. The wall? Again? I live in a massive city. How is it that I ended up here, again? Only this time, I was with Court, who has never been to Dance Cave.
However, last night didn't change that, because by 1 a.m., they were at capacity, so we didn't get in.
Instead, we headed a block away to Pauper's Pub, where Court promptly proceeded to drop her entire purse in the toliet. I pointed and laughed, while some girl in the washroom handed Courtney paper towel and assured her it was okay (as a responsible friend would do).
I continued to point and laugh.
I was, however, nice enough to tell Court she also had toliet paper stuck to her shoe when we left the bathroom. (She's a classy lady.)
Oh, beer. I love you. You never let me down.
Court feels the same affinity for beer that I do, but she'll never love it like I do.
Best picture of the night.
I knew the night was wearing on when Kevin and Court started discussing the grain of the wood.
As much as I love ridiculous conversations, the wood conversation really wasn't doing it for me. Besides, it was taking away from my quality time thumb-wrestling Court.
Kevin's facial expressions run definite competition with mine. Shortly after this photo was taken, Court interrupted the waiter asking for my phone number to announce that it was time to leave. After examining the photographic evidence, it's obvious that that point in the night had truly come.
This morning, I somehow hauled my ass out of bed to join Sarah, Sonja and Darren at the Santa Claus Parade.
Despite my earlier assertations (circa Sylvan Lake this past June) that parades aren't hangover conducive, I knew I couldn't pass up seeing Santa Claus.
Darren and Sarah.
There were balloons everywhere!
I really wanted one, until Sarah thought it would be funny to start rubbing my hair with the balloons. I debated stopping her, but then I remembered the outcome of our arm-wrestling competition on Friday, and decided it was in my best interests to not challenge her superiority.
Next, she attacked Sonja.
Barbie!
"Wouldn't it be awesome to be in fourth grade and go to school on Monday and be like, 'I was on the Barbie float' to all your friends?"
Sarah is the only person I've ever known who waves back at people in the parade. Now, keep in mind that this parade was a good 45 minutes long. And Sarah waved back at each and every person in the parade. I'm not going to lie- this made the layer of ice around my heart thaw, just a little. Thanks, Sarah.
The big man himself!
*Wait, wait, wait! I was just typing the title for this post, "Wanna Duck?" and I got it! Hahaha! It's a good thing I didn't make the title of this post "Wanna Duck, Santa?" which is what I was originally going to put.
Oi. I'm a clever girl. |
| posted by Jess at 10:27 PM | Permalink |
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| Day 3 of the MSN Boycott |
"Can we go to see Harry Potter this week?" I just asked Brie tonight.
"Yeah. . ." she said hesistantly, looking at Mark.
"Well, unless you two already have plans."
"You can come, but you have to bring a friend," Mark told me, decisively.
"That's a good rule," Brie agreed, smiling at Mark.
I raised an eyebrow. "A friend?" Brie and Mark are my friends. I was confused.
Mark and Brie looked at each other in the way parents look at each other when discussing something they don't want their kids to know about.
"Well," Brie finally admitted, "we like to make out during Harry Potter, to scare the little children."
So, uh, anyone want to be my friend?
In other somewhat related news, Dwayne (feel free to say that name out loud in a whiny fashion) did not call me. I'm okay with that though. After all, his name rhymes with lame.
Which, by the way, is what that joke just was. Lame. |
| posted by Jess at 9:41 PM | Permalink |
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| Friday, November 18, 2005 |
| I hate talking on the phone. So why would I enjoy talking online? |
I haven't been on msn messenger for over 26 hours now.
No, really, it's true. You can stop directing those disbelieving and horrified looks at your computer screens.
So, now I'm trying to find things to fill my time that don't involve typing "lol" and "brb". So far, I've:
- watched two hours of TV straight (an anomoly in my existance)
- went for a beer and lunch with Canice
- downloaded a ridiculous amount of music
- read a magazine
- actually went to class
- stared at an interview I transcribed recently, and debated writing my article
- went to Indigo and wandered around looking for books on Vanuatu
- went shopping, but didn't buy anything
It's a protest. It's a boycott. Talking to people on msn is not the equivalent of spending quality time with them.
I am sick of the lack of face to face interactions in my life. |
| posted by Jess at 4:36 PM | Permalink |
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| Wednesday, November 16, 2005 |
| Naked Behind Gnomes 2006 |
Calendar 2006 Teaser
We call this picture "Mail Order Chloe and Jess." Well, you can't literally find us in your mailbox, but if you order the calendar, you'll receive 12 months worth of our fascimiles!
Seriously, now! Wrapping ourselves in newspaper was a labour of love for you. And let's not forget about the title of the calendar. "Naked Behind Gnomes" is meant quite literally.
Who wants a calendar this year? I've only had 4 people request a copy, which seems quite low. Please let me know ASAP. |
| posted by Jess at 12:55 PM | Permalink |
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| Tuesday, November 15, 2005 |
| I was wrong. Weird. |
An unprecedented event has occurred:
The random from Friday night called me. I kid you not.
The random even has a name- Dwayne, apparently. I find the Alberta-esque asthetic of the name kind of appealing.
"So, were you calling for any particular reason?" I asked him after we made some small chit-chat. I don't like to talk on the phone except with a select few people. Dwayne is not one of those select few people, and I have a nasty cold right now.
"Well, uh. . ." the random seemed confused. "Well, uh, you're sick?" I was already annoyed.
"Yes, yes I am."
"Oh, well, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Not too much."
"Oh." Silence. Seriously, did this guy not plan out what he was going to say before he called me? Was he conversationally challenged? Was this not the perfect segway to ask me out on a date? Or was he just calling to prove me wrong?
I broke the silence, "Did you have something in mind?"
"Uh, not really. Drinks, I guess? Or is this just an outright no?"
Ummm, well, you would actually have to ask me a question for me to give an outright no. "So, you didn't have a plan then?"
"No. I'm a 'fly by the seat of your pants' kind of guy."
"Well, do me a favour. How about you give me a call on Thursday?" Quite frankly, this is the middle of term paper season and the lack of a location, activity, date or time doesn't quite work into my schedule.
"Wait! Do you want me to actually have something planned?"
"I'll talk to you on Thursday. Bye."
I need to start preparing my A-list material now. I want to make this guy feel as awkward as possible. When I was living in Edmonton, I used to make new boys in my life play with my iguana just to see how they'd react. Right now though, that's obviously not an option. Maybe introducing my roomates is the next best thing? |
| posted by Jess at 7:37 PM | Permalink |
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| Monday, November 14, 2005 |
| Naked Behind Gnomes: The 2006 Calendar |
Okay, do me a favour. Flip your calendar to December. Is that what you see?
If so, that means you've run out of Chloe-Jess calendar pictures for the year!
If not, don't you wish this is what you saw?
Don't worry though, because for the first time ever, the calendar will be ready in time for the Christmas season. "Naked Behind Gnomes" will be the third annual Chloe-Jess calendar...and likely, the last. That's right- the last. This is your last opportunity to be truly delighted every single time you turn your calendar page.
We're trying to get an idea of numbers before we find a printer for this year, so now is the time to pre-order your 2006 Calendar.
Important facts:
+ The Calendar is a non-profit endeavour. We only charge cost for it, which includes what we pay the printing as well as any shipping or handling that may apply.
+ Last year the final cost for the product was $20 Canadian. This year we're hoping to get it done for $10-15.
+The title of the calendar is Naked Behind Gnomes. Isn't that good enough?
If you're interested, please e-mail me at enjoyponies@yahoo.ca, leave a comment, or send me a message over msn. (If you have mentioned that you'd like a calendar at any point prior to this, I've probably forgotten, so please confirm this with me).
And don't forget- it makes a great gift! |
| posted by Jess at 10:56 PM | Permalink |
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| Saturday, November 12, 2005 |
| A night of hamsters, nunchuks, and random makeouts. |
Yesterday I received an e-mail from Youth Challenge International.
"Congratulations! You've been accepted!"
I'm going to Vanuatu in June for 6 weeks to volunteer with youth there (more on this later). In light of this news, Katrina insisted that we had to go out to celebrate.
The classic cab shot: Katrina and her friend Marlie.
This week, I led a Natasha Bedingfield singalong, y'know, just to mix it up a little. The cab driver really liked that, especially since none of us knew the words except for, "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
Before we went out to the bar, we had to stop by Marlie's sisters place.
But we found ways to amuse ourselves while we were waiting. (I really don't know where these faces come from. It's inexplicable. Just sheer talent, I guess.)
Katrina found some nunchuks.
My prop was a random candlebra.
Katrina and Marlie had a mini-dance party in the kitchen before we left for the bar.
"Katrina, I want to give you a bum ride!"
"What's a bum ride?" I asked, confused.
"We'll show you!"
Little girls are made of sugar and spice. . .
. . .and everything nice.
Once we got to Dance Cave, we met up with Andy and Pierre.
Making out was a popular activity all-around last night.
Andy and Marlie did it.
Marlie and Katrina did it.
Me and some random guy did it.
At the end of the night, this guy asked for my phone number. Inspired by the big fuck's post on calling girls, I let loose one of the longest improv rants in history. At the end of it all, he looked at me and said, "Whoa. I get the feeling you're just a little bit bitter?"
I really have to stop giving off that impression.
The girls with Pierre and Andy at the end of the night. |
| posted by Jess at 1:14 PM | Permalink |
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| Friday, November 11, 2005 |
| Does this mean I have to stop shaving? |
I’m not going go to lie. I’ve spent the last two years of my life feebly attempting to become a cult icon. At one point, I even thought I’d settle for becoming a Canadian cult campus sensation (that’s right, I just used the word “sensation” in reference to myself in full sincerity. Do you wanna fight about it, bitch?) but it never quite worked out. Maybe it was re-location, maybe it was the death of "i enjoy being a slut," but most likely, it was because I don't have a weird haircut.
Recently though, I've reassessed my goals and determined that becoming a cult icon is out of the question at this point in time, and that becoming a scenester is a more attainable goal.
Based upon what I refer to as the “New York Narcissism” version of scenesters (as predominately featured on Last Night’s Party) I’ve evaluated all the following factors responsible for creating instant nightlife hipness and popularity:
You must 1) be a socialite. This means that when there’s a party to be had, staying at home, eating a chocolate cake out of the pan while cuddling with your overweight cat is not an option, even if it seems more appealing. You could be dying of syphilis, but if there is a social function, you must be there, and you must talk up your syphilis as though it’s the hottest shit going on. Actually, your syphilis infection might tie in nicely to having a
2) sardonic sense of humour. Therefore, while it’s okay to find Dave Chapelle funny, you must also find dead kittens wearing sailor suits hilarious. A self-deprecating sense of humour is also appreciated, but a little harder to pull off because the most important quality of being a scenester is
3) narcissism. Some may argue that narcissism falls under the whole “confidence is sexy” adage, but this is beyond that. You must be cocky to the point where psychiatrics would diagnosis you with having a condition worthy of the DSM. However, this full-on schizophrenic arrogance seems somewhat unwarranted, since scenesters generally have a
4) complete lack of ambition, that allows them to go out and party every night. They may have obscure goals (eg- "I plan to be the first woman to DJ from a hot air balloon while naked") but never anything concrete (and heaven forbid, typical!), like say, trying to become a nurse. Therefore, most of the arrogance comes from that fact that the majority of scenesters are ridiculously
5) attractive. The only condition under which you are allowed to be unattractive is if you are fucking hilarious (guys only) or a fucking hilarious lesbian (girls only). Scenesters are also usually
6) single, which is partially a product of the aforementioned cockiness. Nobody is good enough for them. (Hmmm, sound like anyone we know?) Finally, you have to have an
7) unusual haircut and/or greasy hair.
After examining the criteria, it's evident to me that as soon as I stop showering, I'll be good to go. Of course, I'm well aware of the fact that I would be rejected by the current group of scenesters milling about Toronto.
Therefore, I don't see why it isn't completely impausible that I create my own group of scenesters. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm already a scenester.
It's just that everybody else doesn't know it yet. |
| posted by Jess at 8:43 PM | Permalink |
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| I hurt myself today. |
“I hope you attract some creepy guys tonight,” I told Court as we got on the streetcar to head to the Nine Inch Nails show. However, little did we know that the power of my green skirt would prevail, and I would be the one to pick up the creep for the night.
After Death from Above 1979 (who made me want to rape them- this entire post could be about them) and Queens of the Stone Age played, the empty seats next to me were filled by two 30-ish looking guy, one with the shaved head, and the other clad head to toe in leather. The one in leather wasn’t even sitting down before he started in on me. I tried to ignore him, and turned to talk to Courtney, who laughed telling me, “That guy is staring at you like he’s completely in love with you.”
“Have you seen Nine Inch Nails before?” he asked me, “I’ve seen them play a couple of times now."
“No.”
“So, what’s your name?”
“Alicia.” One word answers seemed to be a safe bet in the game at this point.
“Well, Alicia, I guess we’re going to be rocking together tonight,” he told me with a smug grin on his face.
“Actually, I was planning on doing more watching than rocking,” I told him, trying to shut down his conversation advances.
He persisted.
“Well, either way, we’re going to be rocking pretty hardcore, just to warn you,” he told me, smiling slyly, obviously proud of his leather clad prowess.
The guy apparently wanted to engage in conversation. Fine. I’d give him a conversation.
I gave him a sweet smile and asked inquisitively, “How are the leather pants? Do you find that they’re conducive to ‘rocking’?”
“They’re really breathable, actually.”
“Really?” I asked, pretending to be eager for more information, “I never would have guessed!”
I looked down to notice that his skinny leather clad leg had worked its way over to my seat, somehow. I briefly considered jumping in Courtney’s lap for safety.
“Yah, they’re breathable, really comfortable, and,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “you have to admit it looks pretty cool too.” The smile of confident satisfaction on his face was too much.
“Actually, it looks like you’re wearing a dead animal.”
My new friend was serious when he said he was going to “rock hard.” I was expecting him to be your prototypical “thrasher” but instead he surprised me by pulling out some moves I’ve never seen before. He had all the classic elements there; the devil’s horn, the shaking head and the pumping fists in the air. But he added in some twists of his own. The guy looked like he was a wizard casting spells on the crowd, and liked to point his fingers a lot. But he also pulled out this awesome dance move that resembled him fighting with one of those stationary punching bags. Or perhaps he was miming fighting with a paraplegic midget. I’m not too sure. One of the above. He also completely outshined my weekend interpretation of "Hungry Like the Wolf" when he pulled out actions when the words "head like a hole" starting blasting through the speakers.
Courtney and I were killing ourselves laughing, and I told her, “All he needs now are the spirit fingers!” Of course, I was being completely facetious, but then…yes, it happened. He actually used spirit fingers.
Other than that, Court and I were easily the giddiest people at the show, giggling throughout. Yes, that’s right. I giggled at a Nine Inch Nails show. There were high fives to be had too. The evening was also punctuated by smartass comments, about, well, about everything.
“Statistic: nine out of ten people here believe this is their personal theme song,” I told Court when Trent Reznor started to play Hurt.
Court didn’t miss a beat, “Really?! This is my and Mat’s song, actually.”
I feel like I’ve reached a whole new level of cynicism.
The moral of the story? I’m a cynical bitch who is only capable of attracting 30-year-old men clad entirely in leather. But I'm also a cynical bitch who has friends who are willing to high five me at a NIN show. And isn't that what friendship is really about? |
| posted by Jess at 12:43 AM | Permalink |
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| Wednesday, November 09, 2005 |
| Lists for Wednesday |
I write lists constantly. I feel as though they clear out my head, organize my thoughts and validate my existance. So here, upon Mark's request, are some lists that I wrote this week:
Things I’m Really Good At
I'm not very good at many things, so I have the right to gloat about the few things I am good at:
jigsaw puzzles
hula-hooping (but only around my waist)
typing
Scrabble
Cribbage
making out
playing darts
bullshitting
lines (not waiting in them, but rather at avoiding them or finding a way not to stand in them altogether)
braiding hair in corn braids
holding hands
reading quickly
eating
distorting my face into unusual expressions
table manners and etiquette
writing lists
Things I’m Really Bad At
sports
saving money
cooking
dealing with babies (with have a mutual understanding, babies and I; they don't like me, so I stay away from them)
walking in a straight line
paying attention (anyone who has ever taken a class with me will attest to this)
lying (not by aptitude, but rather by choice)
waiting (I have zero patience)
tactfulness
Things I Wish I Was Good At
An incomplete list
crossword puzzles
doing hair
being a girlfriend
singing
breathing fire
writing limericks |
| posted by Jess at 3:39 PM | Permalink |
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| Tuesday, November 08, 2005 |
| The Evidence is Compelling |
So, previous photographic evidence had indicated that I may have been cohorting with the Listerine bottle on Halloween.
However, this past weekend an eye witness stepped forward, and a picture came to my attention that clarified the events that transpired.
It turns out that it was a smoking elephant.
This is actually a more logical choice, because as much as I pride myself upon being an advocate and fan of dental hygiene, I really like elephants. I think about them a lot, actually.
I wonder if he kept the trunk on?
Because I kind of suspect that I would have really liked that. |
| posted by Jess at 9:48 PM | Permalink |
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| Sunday, November 06, 2005 |
| Dear Karma, |
As much as I hate to gossip, I had a lengthy talk about you with our mutual friend, Fate, yesterday. Neither one of us are very impressed with you.
I’ve come to learn that Fate isn’t a very trustworthy source, and not very dependant on top of that, but she was correct in pointing out that you haven’t been entirely fair to me lately. For example, when my hard drive died, where were you? Need I point out the countless hours I’ve spent selflessly fixing other people’s computers when I should have been doing homework? And even last year, when my computer crashed, I was excessively nice to the Dell tech support guys and even flirted with them when I thought it would be appreciated. Yet, here I am, finding myself $350 in the hole because you weren’t there for me.
And what about the time I took Jessica from next door to the hospital when she thought she had an epileptic seizure, and spent eight hours with her, even though I had a term paper to write? Well, when I was sick this summer, I drove myself to the hospital. I was alone, it was a beautiful day when I should have been at the beach. I was nearly coughing up a lung, and I still have no idea what was wrong with me. How is that fair?
And what about broken hearts, Karma? I’ll admit that I did some damage in my day. I didn’t follow the rules of monogamy that closely at times, I was selfish, and I made boys cry. A lot. But I thought I was done paying for my crimes. I mean, c’mon, that was over two years ago! Fate once promised she’d help me out, but I didn’t believe her. I believed and trusted in you. And look how far that got me. I've done nothing since except for pay for my crimes. Need I remind you about my stalker? Or the boy who just dissapeared? Or the one who won't even acknowledge I exist anymore?
Really, Karma, I thought you and I had a deal? You know, like I get your back, you get mine? Well, lately you haven’t been getting my back. You’ve just been taking and taking and taking. I’ve been living by your rules for the last year, trying to please you at every given chance. I didn’t run any red lights, I've been (kind of) nice to boys, I’ve been trying to buy sweatshop-free clothing and use organic products. I’ve cut back on my drinking and my casual make-outs, and I’ve diligently been going to my classes. Most importantly, when I realized that I didn’t quite have a grasp of empathy as an emotion, I valiantly made an effort to put myself in other people’s shoes. And when that wasn’t enough, I tried to prove my worth to you by briefly taking a babysitting job for the summer. Not for the money, but because the parents were friends of my parents. I babysat to please you Karma!
Do you understand the weight of that? I don’t even like babies!
There are a number of other issues I could take up with you, dear Karma, but this letter would end up being much too long. And besides, I feel as though some of the issues on my mind should best be taken up with your colleague, God.
In closing, fuck you Karma. You’re not invited to my birthday party.
Cordially,
Jess |
| posted by Jess at 6:44 PM | Permalink |
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| Saturday, November 05, 2005 |
| Vanessa's 20th Birthday |
Yesterday, I was walking down Queen Street to get my hair extensions taken out (I'm sick of being a liar and a fraud) when I ran into Julia, who invited me out for Vanessa's birthday.
Jess, Julia and the Birthday Girl, Vanessa
After meeting up with the kids at Subway, we jumped in a cab and headed to Dance Cave. I knew it was going to be a good night when I brought up "action songs" and we not only pulled out an awesome rendition of Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now," but discovered that we still remembered all the words and actions to the Spice Girls, "Stop Right Now," or whatever the hell the song was called.
Which we proceeded to sing for the rest of the cab ride.
Mark was still bitter that I managed to get Methods of Mayhem's "Get Naked" stuck in his head for an entire day, and I don't think he was too pleased with my encouragment of Spice Girls inspired musicals in the back of a cab.
While standing line at Dance Cave, Vanessa revealed to me that she used to be a child model.
At least, that's what I understood from these poses.
Julia got in one last pose before we reached the front of the line.
This was the last time Mark and I saw the girls before we lost them for a while.
But we continued with the song inspired dance actions.
"Call me, call me anytime." -Blondie
"Hungry Like the Wolf!" -Duran Duran
(Also, a terrifying picture of me. I look like some sort of prehistoric bird with bloodshot eyes. As a footnote, I'd like to let you all know that I did look spectacularly hot last night, even minus the extensions. I wore my new Ben Sherman dress, and my knee high boots. This is not extraneous information, but rather vital to the events that transpired. Or rather, didn't transpire. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I don't always look like a prehistoric bird with bloodshot eyes. The End.)
What song was this? It was a song that involved something about punching buttons.
"Hungry Like the Wolf"
My new favourite picture of Mark.
Then, we found the girls again!
Mark and I were mocking something. Although I can't quite remember what.
I took a picture of Vanessa kissing this guy.
But then I got jealous, and insisted Vanessa kiss me as well.
And of course, a night at Dance Cave isn't complete with running into a few regulars. Pierre and Charles.
Again, I suspect I was mocking something. Or someone. I know, it's shocking, that I would be mocking someone, but it's a true story.
Then again, there's always the chance that I was genuinely dancing like this.
I felt so short.
Julia picked up this guy. At the end of the night, she decided she wasn't interested in him because he was too short. Personally, I would have rejected him because of the outbreak of herpes on his lip. (Also featured- the guy in the blue shirt walked me home, because I was too stubborn to pay for a cab. It's a long walk. He was a cute kid.)
Okay, this is actually my new favourite picture of Mark. Except his tongue scares me.
Another regular- Erica.
By the time the end of the night rolled around, everyone was coupling off. Julia, Vanessa and Jess had all hooked up, and been hit on nonstop.
As for me, no one had even approached me all night, let alone hit on me. There I was, looking hot, and not at all like a prehistoric bird with bloodshot eyes, and I was alone.
Except for this guy, who smoothly tried what I call the "ass rape" dance move at the end of night. Except whenever I would turn around to look at who this guy was, he would scurry away! Mark caught him and my reaction to his tactic on camera. Note his hand on my side. This was not discreet at all. Also note that I'm making one of the strangest faces known to man. Actually, up until this point it wasn't even known to man. I am actually responsible for introducing it.
But I'm disgressing here.
Is there something wrong with me? Do I give off some sort of a vibe that repells male suitors? I'm so confused and down-trodden. |
| posted by Jess at 1:04 PM | Permalink |
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| Wednesday, November 02, 2005 |
| 3 Announcements and a Plea |
1) I'll be Alberta from December 18th until January 7th.
2) Does anyone remember Jordy? As in "Dur dur d'etre un bebe" (it's so hard to be a baby)? I'm desperately searching for that music video right now. Apparently though, it's super obscure. But I think my roomates need to see it. Help?
3) I'm changing my name to Kyle. I like the simplicity of it, the masculinity, and the fact it's not Jessica, the most beloved North American name for 10 years running. This will be about the fifth time in the course of my life that I have tried to change my name. Other names I've tried to adopt have included Wynne, Wynnie, Edie and George. (Courtney will also be Jordan from this point onwards, and Brie is still working on a new name).
4) I am answering all questions this week with only a "yes" or "no."
ex. "Where are you going?"
"No."
OR
"Would you like cheddar cheese or mozza cheese on that?"
"Yes."
OR
"How do you fall asleep at night?"
"No."
It's a no-fail method of communication. |
| posted by Jess at 11:08 PM | Permalink |
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| Tuesday, November 01, 2005 |
| Can you really judge a person by what's in their fridge? |
The following is an inventory of the contents of the fridge that Brie and I share. I just went grocery shopping, so this is my food for the week. If you have any brilliant meal ideas that contain any of the following ingrediants, please let me know!
Stuff in the fridge that belongs to me:
1 blueberry yogurt container
1 feta cheese block
1.5 cheddar cheese blocks
2.5 cartons of eggs
2 margarine containers
5 rice puddings
1 tortilla shell
coffee
0.5 carton of orange juice
Brita water filter
I hate being a student.
*all the contents of the crisper were thrown out today because they were rotten |
| posted by Jess at 10:20 PM | Permalink |
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| Problems in China #3: Dishes, Bitches! |
Problems in China: In which I chronicle exactly what happens when 5 girls live together while going to school on a limited budget.
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Dishes.
This problem is pretty self-explanatory. Do I really need to elaborate? This picture was only about a level orange on the dish distress status. There were still some dishes in the cupboards, and nothing had quite started growing mold.
However, this is also only about one day worth of dishes. |
| posted by Jess at 10:06 PM | Permalink |
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| "I had to blowdry my penis today." |
Last night Courtney and I went down to Church Street with Jonny and Justin for the last hurrah of Halloween. I felt incrediably short amongst all the men in heels.
Court and I saw this group of ladies, and we couldn't figure out what they were dressed up as (other than women, that is). They were all wearing matching tweed suits, and there were about 20 of them. Suddenly, simulatenously, they stopped walking, lined up, and pulled out perfume bottles.
They were perfume demonstraters!
Jonny was only too eager to join them.
My favourite quote of the night?
"I had to blowdry my penis today." |
| posted by Jess at 10:05 PM | Permalink |
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