Four jobs I’ve had

1. Sales Associate. I sold clothes to angry, fat women who later tried to return their worn, putrid underwear two years later. There were nice, fat women, too, but the underwear lady who yelled at me when I used the plastic bag to handle the ragged panties she left on the counter -- she sticks in my mind. I wonder where she is now. A petty little part of me hopes she still goes there with returns... often.
2. Photo Lab Person Thingie. I LOOKED AT THE PICTURES YOU DROPPED OFF AT THE PHOTO LAB. I LOOKED, AND I LAUGHED. Dear Woman Who Makes and Creates Dolls Shaped Like People and Then Sets Them Up For a Creepy Rag Doll Photo Shoot: I love you. Thanks for the memories.
3. Clothing Sorter for Clothes Brought Into the Sally Ann. That's right, people. Thanks for the unidentifiable stains, ragged, torn fabric and floral print shirts with ruffles and useless, decorative tassels in keeping with the horribly wrong theory that thrift store shoppers will wear anything.
4. Custodian. I am still doing this job. It's easy and gives me the freedom to dance and sing after hours to my own sensational retard musical.

Four movies I can watch over and over

I could tap into my inner pretentious film student and list things like The Pillowbook or Like Water For Chocolate or Living In Oblivion (which I actually want to watch after seeing a portion of it in Directing the Actor last Wednesday) but I'm actually going to be crushingly honest:
1. Return to Oz
2. The Meaning of Life
3. The Lost Boys
4. Fried Green Tomatoes

Footnote: Nanny McPhee is a movie that all of you should go out and see now. Here are some reasons why: a) Eye candy set-wise. b) Emma Thompson unapologetically works the hairy mole angle. c) The art design / lighting. c) The story, barring the strange donkey scenes, is brilliant. And finally, d) JESSICA FLETCHER IS IN IT. Unfortunately, the only crime she solves is the crime of JESSICA FLETCHER NOT BEING IN ENOUGH MOVIES ANYMORE.

Four places I have lived

1. Thunder Bay, Ontario in a yellow brick house with a white fence in the backyard.
2. Saskatoon, SK in a three story turquoise coloured house with crawl spaces and a backyard that resembled a rambling forest.
3. Schreiber, Ontario, across from my elementary school where I could see into my Grade Eight classroom every day I skipped. When I found my old report card whilst moving, the final count had been 60 days absent, with straight A's above the comment "Attendance is important." APPARENTLY IT'S NOT.
4. My Nanny's House. I'm living here now. It's taken me ten years to truly appreciate the fire engine red carpeting in the basement, or the fact that when the neighbours do anything next door YOU CAN HEAR IT.

Four TV shows I love

1. Grey's Anatomy. I watched this again last Sunday and have rekindled my love affair with surgeons learning to live, learn and love. With scalpels.
2. CSI: Las Vegas. It's important to put the "Las Vegas" at the end because there are a billion CSI's floating around out there now and all the rest of them suck. CSI: NY is barely worth mentioning as I am half asleep by the middle of every episode anyways, and CSI: Miami, since school and conversations that took place therein, cannot be watched without posing the disturbing question to oneself: What would sex with David Caruso be like? Because that man would look past your heaving bosom and RIGHT INTO YOUR VERY SOUL.
3. Family Guy. I am always quoting this because it's one of the only shows on television that makes me laugh so hard that like, milk, if I were drinking it, would fly out of my nose and like, explode. Peter on ecstasy never stops being funny, incidentally.
4. Gilmore Girls. I love that they talk fast, and that all of the witty, strange, fast talking people in America seem to live in one charmingly eccentric small town.

Four places I’ve vacationed

1. Disneyworld, Florida. There are a series of photographs of me, in Disneyworld, surrounded by rides, things to buy and Pluto, but INCREDIBLY EXCITED ABOUT THE DRINKING FOUNTAIN.
2. British Columbia. We used to do month long summer road trips when I was younger and one year we drove all around B.C. Brad got a crush on a girl and followed her around everywhere and we played an intense, super serious game of Poker with Smarties.
3. Winnipeg, Manitoba. I live in Thunder Bay so I've vacationed in Winnipeg a lot as it is the closest biggish Canadian city within, oh, 8 hours. In Grade Nine band we went and rocked the Canadian Mint. If you are interested in long, hellish tours about how money is made via disillusioned, angry middle aged men named Gary, then that might be the Canadian experience for you.
4. Minneapolis, MN. My one chance, seven years old, to go to Valley Fair. The night before we were supposed to go we went to a restaurant where I ordered the kids meal -- which I still remember perfectly -- lasagna served in a plastic blue airplane -- and I got food poisoning, missed Valley Fair and spent the rest of the day watching reruns from the 70's and wondering why The Brady Bunch are so enduring.

Four of my favorite dishes foods

1. Consomee Soup.
2. Southwestern Potato Skins. (Laura and I get this every BP trip as a rule.)
3. Melissa's grandmother's eggplant lasagna.
4. Oranges.

Four sites I visit daily

1. Dooce
2. Laura, if she had a website. Soon, my pets. Soon.
3. Go Fug Yourself
4. My bitches / friends list.

Four places I would rather be right now

1. Disneyworld. Preferably with Sarah E and Mel. Someday.
2. The mouse hole of Muffie from Today's Special. "Muffie's mouse hole" seems so dirty.
3. The world of Nanny McPhee. (Lamest answer ever, just go with it.) Maybe in their treehouse.
4. A big long tall green grass field with wildflowers, preferably with a book and a Seattlesize Caramel Mocha.

Five people I am tagging

1. Laura 2. Amy 3. Chuck Norris 4. Chandra

I almost wish I could just give everything I own away, and then slowly collect it back again as the days progress. I love the freedom of empty spaces and cavernous rooms, the minimalist approach to becoming cluttered. I have so much stuff, though. Moving means that things I had forgotten about suddenly turn up tucked into books and at the back of shelves and drawers. Moving means that I find my Photography Journal from 2001 or a book of poems from a million years ago and shake my head at my own little inner retard writing poems about darkness and the dark and how dark things are, because that's what they are you know. Dark. Darker than the darkest pit, or like, darker than my jet black hair which I dyed last week at Trendz only to like, reflect how dark I am inside. Really now.

Speaking of hair, I need to cut mine. It's all the way to mid-back and while I am still surprised when people tell me I have long hair MAYBE HAIR DOWN YOUR BACK IS AN INDICATION THAT OTHERS ARE RIGHT. I also want to die it a dark mocha brown, partly because I enjoy the idea of having coffee coloured hair, and then streaking it with blonde. Who knows though. That sounds daring and possibly a little too 2004-ish, so we'll have to see. Both rooms are catastrophic messes. I am looking way too forward to the chinese food we are ordering incredibly soon, though, because I've recently become dependent upon spring rolls.

Seriously, I have been going to bed lately at 10. Sometimes before 10. Singing "Love Takes Time" takes a lot out of you. That song is emotional, y'all.

I have a commercial analysis assignment due in Non Fiction Films tomorrow, and I'm hoping to lock it up during my three hour break. However, I can't decide which commercial to do. I'm thinking of something along the lines of the commercials that used to rock my world when I was ten. Kool-Aid man! Basically I have to analyze the music and the general look of the commercial and then I'll need to illustrate some storyboards of each shot. I completely forgot that it was due tomorrow.

I haven't mentioned it yet, but Brad and Dad left for B.C. last week. We don't talk about this because things didn't go well as in "worse than one might have thought it would go" considering my dad and I have issues that might never sort themselves out because he's a workaholic and I spent maybe twenty minutes with him in the last two days he spent with his family. Nice that he made sure he said a lengthy goodbye to everyone in Schreiber and surrounding area, though. It's entirely possible he spent time with some charming train hobos along the way, too. That's great though, because I've heard those train hobos have some amazing skills at interpretive dance. ... But we don't talk about this. Let's just drive that point home.

We can talk at length about hobos though. Everyone loves hobos. You know, most people think hobos are dirty, unwashed and riddled with disease.

They're right, but wow. Can those fuckers dance.

I feel I should end this by attempting to deny that my voice is really that shrill and nasal. What can I say. Belting out Mariah Carey and "Knick Knack Paddy Whack" can take a lot out of a girl and Laura and I spent the entire road trip rocking the northwestern shore with our Canadian Idol ready voices and down home good looks. I now know the entirety of Parker's Little People tape and can thankfully let all y'all know that there are mice, mice running through the rice. At the store. At the store. There are mice, mice, running through the rice. At the Quarter Master's store.

At one point we couldn't find the Little People tape, and Parker had woken up and wanted to listen to it, so Laura and I -- because we are excellent problem-solvers -- began to sing with our melodic and gifted voices every song we knew. This included an acapella version of "Love Takes Time", every single song from any Disney movie ever (you have not lived until you've heard me sing "Le Poisson", or perhaps seen me draw a blank but attempt to keep the charade going by mock-singing lines from the "Beauty and the Beast". aka, "CRAZY OLD MAURICE, EH? .... CRAZY OLD MAURICE.") and alternate versions to "Knick Knack Paddy Whack", including "This old man, he played five, he played knick knack on my thigh. .... wait. HOW IS THAT APPROPRIATE?"

I should be doing my commercial analysis. WHY AM I BLOGGING.