I'm having an excellent Saturday. I had planned to clean things out and start packing things and do laundry, but that has all proved too hard and I'm okay with that. I've spent the majority of my time doing internet things and reading, and haven't changed out of my pajamas all day. I have been looking forward to a day for weeks where I could be totally counter productive.

Also, my mom went out for lunch and brought me back sushi. When I first had sushi I thought it was okay, and then, increasingly disgusting, but I've been craving it nonetheless ever since. I had my mom's leftover california rolls, and they were awesomely delicious. Sushi is strangely addictive.

I am off to watch movies and continue my adventure in laziness. Perhaps I'll clean my room tonight. I do have to swing by Brad's to pick up the tv he's giving me (!!!!), but for now I'm fairly content with just being indescribably slothful.

Thanks to Lindsay for the picture of awesomeness. David Bowie has a delicious chocolate centre and loves kitties.

Labels: Film Geekery, Projects

I'm packing / cleaning things -- my dad is bringing a bunch of his stuff here for storage and Brad is moving back here for awhile before he heads out to Calgary with my Uncle Ron. Him and Alicia are moving out of their apartment and are no longer together (which doesn't effect my friendship with Alicia or with Brad -- they both know, or should know that they remain two of my favourite bitches.) -- so a bunch of Brad's stuff will also end up here including the television I am totally temporarily snagging and Brad's car which means I no longer have to wake up at 8 a.m. on Friday's when I have the morning off.

Although, I think I'd rather have Brad around for two months as I am really going to miss him when he moves away, however temporarily.

As I was going through some stuff today, however, I found all sorts of neat things. A lot of my stuff from Schreiber has been moved back here in preparation of my dad's big move next week (we don't talk about this.) and among it all are old letters and poems and photographs I'd thought either lost forever or forgotten about completely.

For instance, this picture of me circa 1988 where I look incredibly together. Note the complete lack of mullet, the nice smile consisting of all my teeth and the barrette in my hair. I was actually wearing knee socks and Mary Jane's, which you can't see, and that kind of completes the idea of this being the best picture of me ever taken. Ever.

Furthermore, the photograph of Miles and I when we were kids, holding Luke. I look pretty smug, yet slightly worried. "This is a baby," I seem to be saying, "and they seem to want me to pose with it EVEN THOUGH SHE-RA IS ON. WHAT THE HELL, GUYS." Miles and I looked pretty similar when we were kids, and a lot of people thought we were twins. And then I got a mullet and everything was RUINED.

I used to get school photos in the mail from people, while craftily trying to avoid sending any of myself out. School picture day was always a disaster for me because I always wore something I thought was incredibly fashionable and cutting edge, but which actually turned out to be a floral print sweater vest or spandex leotard in neon green with black stars all over it. Which in retrospect was a little bit ... risque Emo. My hair was usually pretty awful as well -- I think we've dredged up the Mullet issue enough, but there were the years my mom made me cut off all my hair so as, however unintentionally, look like a woman who might approach you in a bar to talk about motorcycles and hot girls. And sometimes I'd forget to smile with my teeth and would get the pictures back looking just this side of Toothless Grizzled Spandexed Miner Who Has Just Found Gold and Is Crazy With Excitement.

Here is the back of a school picture from Mel:

Finally, I really, really love this picture of my Aunt Isabel:

Tonight was David Bowie Night with Angela and Lindsay.

David Bowie Night consisted of the following:

1) Renting "The Man Who Fell From Earth" from Hill City Comics, with me nearly getting myself killed on the way when I nearly ran through a red lighted intersection because I was looking for the correct turn off. I am a fantastic driver, as breaking heavy on ice covered roads is the absolute best form of action when one is FACING IMMINENT DEATH.

2) Making a David Bowie cake. Our David Bowie cake was magnificent. Made of chocolate, as the real David Bowie most likely is, David Bowie in delicious moist cake form wore sparkly festive pants, a t-shirt emblazoned with "Kitty" (with a picture of a kitty over top), a purple guitar and a super fashionable red mullet. And, lest I forget, his pants had the tell-tale bulge that accompanied The Bowie in the Labyrinth. You can't do a David Bowie cake without the spandexed package, and that's all there is to it.

3) We also watched the Labyrinth. We couldn't finish "The Man Who Fell From Earth" as it proved to be all over the place, entirely confusing and full of strange Freudian sex scenes. Plus, watching David Bowie stare in wonder at his nipples and start tweaking them as though he was pretty sure any second they'd explode into party sparklers or fluffy kittens chasing balls of yarn or something (At least this is what my nipples do.) was just too much for me. Watch out for the scene of David Bowie screaming at the tower of televisions. FUNNIEST THING I'VE SEEN ALL YEAR. But I love the Labyrinth. Even though it's terribly over acted and nearly everything that Jennifer Connelly said made us laugh uproariously, it's still a great movie.

4) Salad Fingers. (Creepy and yet strangely hilarious.)

Labels: Film Geekery

No.

Bad.

The forward goes a little something like this: "Bill Gates wants everyone to participate in an Internet survey, and will give you $__________ for every person you forward this to. Sometime after sending this you will receive a call / email from Microsoft, and then a CHEQUE."

Then there is a listing of complete bullshit testimonials from people you JUST KNOW were sitting at home in their mom's basement giggling away about Internet gullibility in between eating Cheetos and playing World of Warcraft. "It really works," they write, "I'm now living in my Bel-Air mansion, thanks to Bill Gates." Possibly they are even shedding a small tear for WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN.

There is no way for Bill Gates to track all the email addresses and all the forwards sent out. I mean, he'd have to have this top secret, highly sensitive, crazy technologically advanced, super expensive machine and, let's say that he did BECAUSE HE IS BILL GATES, would he really use it to GIVE YOU MONEY? God, no.

Seriously. This is getting as bad as the goddamn Bonsai Kitten.

Much Love,
Sarah

Shank was what I was looking for.

Thank you El.

(Am making dinner for my mom. I tried making Mama Pirkko's spring rolls (Ichabon noodles, raw cucumber, chicken, rice paper wrap and honey garlic) but I don't know hot to wrap things properly and it is NOW A STIRFRY.)

(That looks delicious limply swimming in a pool of brown honey garlic sauce. But she will eat it. SHE WILL EAT IT AND SHE WILL LIKE IT.)

-- My mom.

In exactly one hour it's my mom's birthday. Last year she nearly ran my dad down with the Oldsmobile because every time they went into a restaurant he'd tell them it was her birthday. My mom is somewhat age sensitive, even though she doesn't look as old as she is (I rock the world of compliments) and, when she could no longer take it and threatening my dad with severe beatings from a 5 foot 2 woman just wasn't working, finally STUFFED HER TIM HORTONS CELEBRATORY FAUX BIRTHDAY MUFFIN INTO HIS FACE.

"Happy Birthday, John." She said, smearing special faux birthday whipped cream onto his face and storming out of the fine Tim Hortons establishment to sit in the car. You don't mess with my mom. He is probably lucky she didn't have a knife handy. Or perhaps one of those prison toothbrush / razorblade hybrids... a shiv? Skiv? Who knows. My mom has a dark and shady past and YOU NEVER KNOW WITH KINDERGARTEN TEACHERS.

"WHAT ARE JAZZ HANDS?!"

They didn't speak in capitals, but when I think of someone forming and asking that question OUT LOUD, where OTHERS MIGHT HEAR, I think in capitals. Shocked, disgusted, enraged capitals.

There is definitely something amiss in the universe, if people don't know what jazz hands are and aren't doing them as often and as obnoxiously as possible.

I will need to post a how-to manual, just to spread the word of Jazz Hands, and how Jazz Hands can aid you not only in life -- but also in regards to your potentially ignored and dangerously low sass quotient.

Watch for it.

Nevermind that my response to "WHAT ARE JAZZ HANDS?!?!?" was "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU."

By the time I actually took the picture, they were jazz handing their little hearts out by God. Possibly because they assumed that if they didn't do it right I would attack and bludgeon them like a dissatisfied stage mother.