I'm moving. I've decided that Blogger is like your first car. The one where you need to use the pliers with to turn the radio on, and thus, I've decided to upgrade. (We can all really blame Ruby for this actually.)
Find me at
http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com/
Thanks!
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Thursday, May 3, 2007
My Greatest Hits
Brace yourselves.
I've got big news.
Blogger has informed me that this is my 100th post. Cue confetti, start up the marching band and get those batons twirling!
To celebrate this momentous occasion, I considered a massive celebration complete with new sparkly shoes (any reason is a good reason to shoe shop). I thought everyone should take the day off work, and write poetry about how great I am. Perhaps those artistically inclined could make me some art, those who enjoy astronomy could name a star after me. Someone would find some elephants for us to ride around on (not circus animals, but wild elephants who are just wanting to give rides for fun) and cotton candy would fall from the sky like raindrops.
However, this seemed a tad impractical, so I saved you all the trouble of planning an elaborate party and have instead complied my ten favourite posts. They weren't always the ones that got a lot (if any) of hits from other readers but I consider them my greatest. If there is to be no parade, at least I will make this post all about me. I kid. Sort of.
1. Because that's how I roll...
2. Flair: 2007 Style
3. Garbage Day with the Hendersons
4. So this is what it's like
5. My lips are sealed
6. Under My Skin
7. X + Y + Z = I'm a rock star
8. Charmed, I'm sure
9. When a good run can break your heart
10. 20/20 Talk
Oh, and those are my shoes. The picture is a bit dodgy and you don't see the great heel but that's all I've got people. (Oh, and the jeans rolled up? That's 4 drinks in and suddenly I feel that people NEED to see the shoes more CLEARLY). But seriously. Shoes that great under $20? They were practically free!
On a completely different note I'm just finishing up my last few books and am looking for some good reads. Please share your suggestions!
I've got big news.
Blogger has informed me that this is my 100th post. Cue confetti, start up the marching band and get those batons twirling!
To celebrate this momentous occasion, I considered a massive celebration complete with new sparkly shoes (any reason is a good reason to shoe shop). I thought everyone should take the day off work, and write poetry about how great I am. Perhaps those artistically inclined could make me some art, those who enjoy astronomy could name a star after me. Someone would find some elephants for us to ride around on (not circus animals, but wild elephants who are just wanting to give rides for fun) and cotton candy would fall from the sky like raindrops.
However, this seemed a tad impractical, so I saved you all the trouble of planning an elaborate party and have instead complied my ten favourite posts. They weren't always the ones that got a lot (if any) of hits from other readers but I consider them my greatest. If there is to be no parade, at least I will make this post all about me. I kid. Sort of.
1. Because that's how I roll...
2. Flair: 2007 Style
3. Garbage Day with the Hendersons
4. So this is what it's like
5. My lips are sealed
6. Under My Skin
7. X + Y + Z = I'm a rock star
8. Charmed, I'm sure
9. When a good run can break your heart
10. 20/20 Talk
Oh, and those are my shoes. The picture is a bit dodgy and you don't see the great heel but that's all I've got people. (Oh, and the jeans rolled up? That's 4 drinks in and suddenly I feel that people NEED to see the shoes more CLEARLY). But seriously. Shoes that great under $20? They were practically free!
On a completely different note I'm just finishing up my last few books and am looking for some good reads. Please share your suggestions!
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The icing on the fake
I've never understood girls who weren't friendly. Pretending to be "too cool", or "too busy" or "too important" to remember someone always just seemed like a gigantic waste of time. I like knowing that if I go up town and see my math teacher from grade 7, or the chick who cuts my hair or the man who gave me piano lessons, I will always say hi- and they will say hi back. Because, to me saying hi is what normal people do. Saying "hi" isn't showing exquisite manners, it's just being normal. It's like, tying your shoes or brushing your teeth, something you just... do. If you see someone you know, why wouldn't you say hi?
Enter Jessica.
Jessica and I went to school together for as long as I've been going to school. Through velcro shoes, lock-up jeans, and those thermal shirts that changed color when they got touched (why where those popular again?), we've always gone to school together. Grades 1-12. Her locker was next to mine in grade 8. She was the worst player on our volleyball team yet everyone always told her she did a good job, and made nice plays. It seemed the nicer people tried to be to her, the meaner she got.
Jessica saying "hi" to me when we see each other is like a math equation dependent on many factors. Who I'm with (more people equal a greater chance of a hi, and if it's guys I'm with? She wants to hold hands and suddenly her laugh begins to resemble Julia Roberts minus the sincerity), how many drinks she's had (again, more equals a better chance of a "hi", but instead of hand holding she wants to hug for too long, like a grandma who you never see) and whether or not she's stranded alone at a table waiting for someone to show up (if she's alone, suddenly we are long lost sisters).
I've always found this more amusing than annoying. I'm not saintly, but I would rather get frustrated at people who leave their pets in cars while they take long lunches than at a girl who is more fake than a $3 bill. I think I just like to reserve my frustration for those who have truly earned it.
Today however, Jessica took this all to a new level...
Scene: I'm cruising the grocery store trying to tell myself I will still live a long life if I don't buy the really expensive pomegranate juice. I see Jessica standing by the organic carrots with a robotic man wearing every shade of beige possible. Because I'm normal, I say "hi". She gives me a puzzled look like she's confused. So, because I'm not clear what she would be confused about, I walk over...
Me: Hi! How are you?
Jessica: (begins miming what she must assume 'confusion' would look like if she pulled it out of a hat during a game of charades. She's all head scratching and squinty eyed, as though blurring her vision is going to cause her to remember everyday we sat next to each other in Science class our last year of school, or the fact that two weeks ago she chatted with me in line at the movies.)
Me: It's Brandy...
Jessica: Hmm.. (at this point she's doing some head shaking too, like by violently moving her head the memory of me will fall into place. Keep in mind, there were 60 kids in our grade in elementary school. We know each other.)
Me: Um, we went to school together? (And because I'm really obnoxious and too stubborn to let this go helpful, I add in...) For 12 years?
Jessica: Wait, is your name Lyndsay?
Beige Man: No, I don't think that's it (Suddenly beige man is trying to place me, though I've never seen him before in my life. Suddenly trying to remember me is a partner job that Jessica can't do alone)
Jessica: Oh! Well, it's been so long since school...
Me: I guess it has. Okay well, I will see you later
I walk with a case of "the inappropriate giggles", which strike at funerals, during the telling of sad stories or (apparently) when I'm getting snubbed by someone who cried when the New Kids broke up. I suppose that I could be annoyed, or insulted or frustrated by Jessica's progression to complete ignorance of who I am, yet I still find it amusing. And honestly, a little amazed that someone would go to such great lengths.
If being the biggest fake is a game she wants to win, I will gladly hand her the crown.
I walk back, pick up the pomegranate juice (I've earned it) and go to pay with one thought in my head-
"Well played Jessica, well played".
Enter Jessica.
Jessica and I went to school together for as long as I've been going to school. Through velcro shoes, lock-up jeans, and those thermal shirts that changed color when they got touched (why where those popular again?), we've always gone to school together. Grades 1-12. Her locker was next to mine in grade 8. She was the worst player on our volleyball team yet everyone always told her she did a good job, and made nice plays. It seemed the nicer people tried to be to her, the meaner she got.
Jessica saying "hi" to me when we see each other is like a math equation dependent on many factors. Who I'm with (more people equal a greater chance of a hi, and if it's guys I'm with? She wants to hold hands and suddenly her laugh begins to resemble Julia Roberts minus the sincerity), how many drinks she's had (again, more equals a better chance of a "hi", but instead of hand holding she wants to hug for too long, like a grandma who you never see) and whether or not she's stranded alone at a table waiting for someone to show up (if she's alone, suddenly we are long lost sisters).
I've always found this more amusing than annoying. I'm not saintly, but I would rather get frustrated at people who leave their pets in cars while they take long lunches than at a girl who is more fake than a $3 bill. I think I just like to reserve my frustration for those who have truly earned it.
Today however, Jessica took this all to a new level...
Scene: I'm cruising the grocery store trying to tell myself I will still live a long life if I don't buy the really expensive pomegranate juice. I see Jessica standing by the organic carrots with a robotic man wearing every shade of beige possible. Because I'm normal, I say "hi". She gives me a puzzled look like she's confused. So, because I'm not clear what she would be confused about, I walk over...
Me: Hi! How are you?
Jessica: (begins miming what she must assume 'confusion' would look like if she pulled it out of a hat during a game of charades. She's all head scratching and squinty eyed, as though blurring her vision is going to cause her to remember everyday we sat next to each other in Science class our last year of school, or the fact that two weeks ago she chatted with me in line at the movies.)
Me: It's Brandy...
Jessica: Hmm.. (at this point she's doing some head shaking too, like by violently moving her head the memory of me will fall into place. Keep in mind, there were 60 kids in our grade in elementary school. We know each other.)
Me: Um, we went to school together? (And because I'm
Jessica: Wait, is your name Lyndsay?
Beige Man: No, I don't think that's it (Suddenly beige man is trying to place me, though I've never seen him before in my life. Suddenly trying to remember me is a partner job that Jessica can't do alone)
Jessica: Oh! Well, it's been so long since school...
Me: I guess it has. Okay well, I will see you later
I walk with a case of "the inappropriate giggles", which strike at funerals, during the telling of sad stories or (apparently) when I'm getting snubbed by someone who cried when the New Kids broke up. I suppose that I could be annoyed, or insulted or frustrated by Jessica's progression to complete ignorance of who I am, yet I still find it amusing. And honestly, a little amazed that someone would go to such great lengths.
If being the biggest fake is a game she wants to win, I will gladly hand her the crown.
I walk back, pick up the pomegranate juice (I've earned it) and go to pay with one thought in my head-
"Well played Jessica, well played".
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Shrimp Forks
I probably should wait before writing something. I should probably drink chai tea, do some yoga or go to my meditation room where I will breathe deeply until my lungs hurt. But, since I have no tea, don't do yoga (don't hate me. I also don't like sushi and sometimes take two parking spots at the mall when it's tricky to park my truck)and don't have a meditation room (surprise!), I'm just going to write. Besides, that's why I started writing in the first place- to have an 'outlet' for frustration. And you know, because I like to.
So. (Side note: I notice that I say "So." a lot when I'm frustrated. And it appears that I also have the urge to use a lot of brackets)
I'm frustrated.
I know this person. Let's call him... Marvin. (And no, I don't particularly love the name Marvin, in fact, I picked a name I dislike because I'm spiteful like that. And if you are reading this, and your name is Marvin... I'm sorry. I'm sure you have lots of other great qualities and that millions of girls in this great big world love that name, but I don't. And I'm sorry. But not sorry enough to choose a different name.)
I digress.
Anyway, Marvin. Marvin has always been on of those friends that you could talk to about anything. In fact, there was a time when he was the first person I told all the big moments, bad news and exciting stories to. Marvin was funny and thoughtful and always had something interesting to say. He asked questions. He remembered things. He held up his end of the conversation and more than once listened to me declare jihad on ex boyfriends cry. But lately, Marvin has become really... well, lame.
I realize that lame is well, a lame word to use but it fits. If the God of Friendship (let's name that God...Jack, because that's my favourite name for a boy), so if Lord of Friendship Jack, told Marvin and I that we had to unload a dishwasher, it's like we went from doing everything 50/50 it being 90/10. Suddenly, all Marvin is capable of is putting away shrimp forks. And sweet Jesus, this may surprise you, but just putting away shrimp forks does not a friendship make. Suddenly, I'm doing all the work, asking all the questions, working at something that used to not be work.
See? Lame.
I suppose this is where you would tell me to stop acting like I'm oh, about 14 years old (again), and talk to Marvin. And I could. But the thing is, what do you say? "Start being more like the old you and less like the new you?", "I'm sad I don't know what to talk to you about?" Or better yet, "Do you want to just... stop being friends, because if you do, that's fine but you are going to have to tell me because I'm a girl who just don't get the 'fade out and I'm sorry if that's hard for you to grasp, but that's just how I roll'?".
That hardly seems adult.
But I guess it's better than the alternative- stabbing him in the leg with a shrimp fork and hoping it brings the old Marvin back.
So. (Side note: I notice that I say "So." a lot when I'm frustrated. And it appears that I also have the urge to use a lot of brackets)
I'm frustrated.
I know this person. Let's call him... Marvin. (And no, I don't particularly love the name Marvin, in fact, I picked a name I dislike because I'm spiteful like that. And if you are reading this, and your name is Marvin... I'm sorry. I'm sure you have lots of other great qualities and that millions of girls in this great big world love that name, but I don't. And I'm sorry. But not sorry enough to choose a different name.)
I digress.
Anyway, Marvin. Marvin has always been on of those friends that you could talk to about anything. In fact, there was a time when he was the first person I told all the big moments, bad news and exciting stories to. Marvin was funny and thoughtful and always had something interesting to say. He asked questions. He remembered things. He held up his end of the conversation and more than once listened to me
I realize that lame is well, a lame word to use but it fits. If the God of Friendship (let's name that God...Jack, because that's my favourite name for a boy), so if Lord of Friendship Jack, told Marvin and I that we had to unload a dishwasher, it's like we went from doing everything 50/50 it being 90/10. Suddenly, all Marvin is capable of is putting away shrimp forks. And sweet Jesus, this may surprise you, but just putting away shrimp forks does not a friendship make. Suddenly, I'm doing all the work, asking all the questions, working at something that used to not be work.
See? Lame.
I suppose this is where you would tell me to stop acting like I'm oh, about 14 years old (again), and talk to Marvin. And I could. But the thing is, what do you say? "Start being more like the old you and less like the new you?", "I'm sad I don't know what to talk to you about?" Or better yet, "Do you want to just... stop being friends, because if you do, that's fine but you are going to have to tell me because I'm a girl who just don't get the 'fade out and I'm sorry if that's hard for you to grasp, but that's just how I roll'?".
That hardly seems adult.
But I guess it's better than the alternative- stabbing him in the leg with a shrimp fork and hoping it brings the old Marvin back.
Monday, April 30, 2007
... And then I'm 14 again
So.
I think some of you got scared from the last post (Actually, I know one of you did, you sent me a lengthy email discussing all the reasons I'm a great person, BUT how moping about my life is a thorn in feminism's side, and gave me advice on how to improve my life that started with my "fixing my apparent urge to downplay anything girly" about me. And no, I'm not joking. I'm almost thinking this little gem needs to be shared,- name withheld, of course). Anyway, the feeling has passed. I'm sure there will be a time I will feel lonely again (and despite the advice in the aforementioned email, I'm sure I will write about it), but today, oh today I'm happily single.
Why?
Because I just ran into him. You know. That guy in every ones past who is just... it. Or who was it. Who makes you just want to reach out and touch somebody (like... him). The guy who makes you feel like your 14 again because when you talk to him suddenly your self conscious in a way you haven't in a long time. Suddenly you notice how much space is between you, the band aid on your finger, the color of his eyes. Who makes you blush every time you talk because you are pretty sure he knows what you are thinking (and for the record, you are thinking about wanting to touch... him). The guy who has the actual ability to make you swoon. Swooning people! I was swooning!
I'm actually feeling giddy. More giddy than new shoes make me. Ahh. I'm 14 years old again, but with a bank account and better shoes.
Today, I love the universe.
I think some of you got scared from the last post (Actually, I know one of you did, you sent me a lengthy email discussing all the reasons I'm a great person, BUT how moping about my life is a thorn in feminism's side, and gave me advice on how to improve my life that started with my "fixing my apparent urge to downplay anything girly" about me. And no, I'm not joking. I'm almost thinking this little gem needs to be shared,- name withheld, of course). Anyway, the feeling has passed. I'm sure there will be a time I will feel lonely again (and despite the advice in the aforementioned email, I'm sure I will write about it), but today, oh today I'm happily single.
Why?
Because I just ran into him. You know. That guy in every ones past who is just... it. Or who was it. Who makes you just want to reach out and touch somebody (like... him). The guy who makes you feel like your 14 again because when you talk to him suddenly your self conscious in a way you haven't in a long time. Suddenly you notice how much space is between you, the band aid on your finger, the color of his eyes. Who makes you blush every time you talk because you are pretty sure he knows what you are thinking (and for the record, you are thinking about wanting to touch... him). The guy who has the actual ability to make you swoon. Swooning people! I was swooning!
I'm actually feeling giddy. More giddy than new shoes make me. Ahh. I'm 14 years old again, but with a bank account and better shoes.
Today, I love the universe.
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