Delphically Dark

Burfday tats

2006-11-13T09:10:00.000-08:00

In an extreme act of generosity toward myself, I purchased the following tattoos for my birthday...so, so sweet.

Note to self: four tatttoos in three days is a bit much.

Thanks to everyone that supported this little venture. Muchos gracias! I love every one of you :)

Jinx

New Tattoo time

2006-11-10T21:45:00.000-08:00

So, due to irritating problems with gmail I figure it will be easier to post pictures of my new tattoos and send folks here. Here is tattoo number one. Click on the images to see them larger. Three more on Sunday night...so fucking sweet. Any thoughts?

Mmm, The Breakfast Club

2006-10-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, my character is also the only one who appealed to me in the movie. Maybe I lust after myself. It's a love affair, only instead of it being with my hotrod, it is me.

Which Breakfast Clubber Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

Finally, I did a "What is your sexual M.O.?" and this is what happened...big fucking surprise.

What's Your Sexual M.O.? Find out @ She's Crafty

When it comes to handling your honey's in the bedroom (or perhaps the public park or conference room) it's the crazier the better as far as you're concerned. You're what people have affectionately dubbed try-sexual. You'll try anything once and if you like it, hell, you'll do it again! You're an independant, confidant risk-taker who sees sex as a way to express yourself creatively. You're bored stiff by all the been-there, done-that routines and would rather have daring, adventerous sex once a week than ho-hum sheet heat every night.

Good times. Later skaters.

No spoon my ass!

2006-10-26T16:40:00.000-07:00

I thought I would try this "Which Action Star are You?" out for a little sumpin' sumpin' to do. Thanks Olly making my day, silly girl.

Which Action Star Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty>

Considering how much I hate Keanu Reaves in the Matrix, this illustrates how pathetic these things really are. Mad Maddox made a witty little comment about Neo and how they could have had a painted log play his part just as well, if not better, than Keanu Reaves. See below for the irrefutable visual proof.

Busy Little Bee

2006-10-17T23:32:00.000-07:00

Between the two preschools, the after school program and volunteering at the Youth Centre, my time is utterly consumed. So I thought for a minor diversion I would post a few random pictures from various times in my life. They will easily pass the time and provide irreparable proof of my absolute geekiness.

Not dorky enough? How about the following unconscious attempt to mimic Adam Sandler in Happy Gilmore? Yup. That is me riding the knight. Oddly enough, I'm being a Templar Knight for Halloween too. Not quite a Rod Serling moment but I try.

I finally made it back to my old high school, well, actually, it is a new building in a new location; therefore, I don't think 'old' applies in this situation, but they do still have the grad photos in the hallway.

It was interesting to reflect on why I became the way I was; furthermore, while my grad picture is obviously freaky, take a good look at all the mall-hair sporting, mullet proud 'normal' people and then consider why I am the way I am.

Enough memory lane stuff. To all my friends, I'm heading to K-town November 9-12 so if you are interested in hooking up or if you know of anything exciting happening that weekend call or email me.

Jinx out.

2006-09-20T23:10:00.000-07:00

Aphex Twin

A wee tribute to Olly. Very, very strange. Not Olwen but the video

Yum

2006-09-18T16:31:00.000-07:00

Not sure how many of you have read "Still Life with Woodpecker" but the title is a tribute to that fantastic novel. Also an appropriate remark on the following picture.

Also:

As a side note, why is it that everyone couples the flavour of most random meat products to that of chicken? I have been told everything from frog's legs to rattlesnake taste "like chicken." What is up with that?

I am so overwhelmingly busy at the moment it is insane. Literally. I am insane in the membrane. Yes, insane in the brain. I figure a bunch of random funny pictures would have to suffice for a blog post.

Whose a cunt? What ethnocentric fuck has decided that his pro-life / divine right / creationism stance is only applicable to white Americans and everyone else is fair game for mass destruction all in the name of freedom for what bell hooks would refer to as the 'white, capitalist patriarch'? Oh, right. That cunt.

This last image made me laugh...a lot...out loud. See how easy it is to communicate without using those infernal IM acronyms? Okay, so I exaggerated a tad on the out loud laughter but wtf. That is called fucking with your head. With the exception of my sister (who is continuously in the dark when it comes to contemporary adages, acronyms and all things slang), I know everyone understands that adage; however, when one types every second word as some random mixing of letters it makes me want to punch them in the crotch...repeatedly...with a big stick.

If you need me, I'll be chillin' like Bob Dylan. Except without the pot because I don't smoke and I enunciate my words so maybe with a bit more comprehension too.

2006-09-06T15:52:00.000-07:00

RIP Steve

The world has suffered a great loss from the death of Steve Irwin - to the little bit of Crocodile Hunter in all of us.

Cheers Steve.

2006-09-06T15:46:00.000-07:00

Noah

This is such an amazing concept. Noah took a picture of himself everyday for six years. Completely worth watching.

Eat the rich - because I'm not one of them.

2006-09-04T22:25:00.000-07:00

That title reminds me of Swift's ol' 'A Modest Proposal.' It is a wonderful story about reducing the mounting poverty and starvation in Ireland by recommending the Irish eat their young. I'm sure Disney will pick it up as their latest blockbuster cartoon. Oh wait, it was released last year as a feature film but instead of the Irish it targets HACKERS?!?! Christ, Swift would lose it. Somehow I doubt the film accurately captures his satirical suggestion. And on another tangent...

As much as I have been avoiding it, I have officially jumped into career mode. I'm telling you it was the painting...see below. For all of you scratching your heads with curiosity, among other things, I am now a teaching assistant at a Montessori Preschool in Nelson and I will be TOCing (Teacher on Call / Substitute) for the Waldorf School here too. Yup, as much as I dragged my heels, the debt and exhausting seven years of school are finally being put to use.

Crap.

Ode to the Crazy Cat Lady in All of Us

2006-09-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

So here is my contribution to becoming one step closer to the crazy cat lady. World meet Kung Fu (black) and Bubba Ho-tep (grey/white tabby)...Bubba Ho-tep and Kung Fu meet the world. Although, in the realm of Jacques Lacan that would remain impossible. You know, the surrealist, postmodern concept of "Ceci n'est pas un pipe." Nevermind. Apparently you don't know. Fuck off. Who asked you anyway.

They are destroying my house one plant at a time. I think they present a beneficial learning process toward altering my complete intolerance for any sort of mess. Down OCD, down!

I also bought my first painting and I was elated for about five days and then suddenly I was left with a sense of loss of youth. Tragically only grown ups seem to proliferously spend money on art.

I supposed I'm all growd up now. Fuck.

Indiana survived

2006-08-12T02:36:00.000-07:00

I was planning to create an elaborate post on the life and times of the Ruckus Reunion Camp in Indiana but, truthfully, even remotely reminiscing on the camp exhausts me; therefore, I am going to limit myself to the following pictures and brief commentary.

This would have been ideal foreshadowing; however, as it was revealed following the camp it should read: "something wicked has come and gone and *whew* you survived it."

The backwoods of Indiana were full of creepy guys like Mike. I christened him with a flattering, yet trendy, new nickname...henceforth Mike shall be known to all as Sugar Tits. His gratitude was overwhelming - particularly when my sister taught the youngest twins (aged 2) to identify him as such.

*Shudder* Creepy, creepy mustache guy.

Speaking of creepy hair, here is the illustrious kitchen crew with which I generally rabble roused.

Yes, most of the hair are wigs; however, provided with the opportunity, Roger would have been stoked to sport that horrid mullet in the following months. It would have fabulously complimented his cut-off acid-wash jean shorts. Now all he needs is a creepy mustache too.

Here is a demonstration of a banner-hang followed by some random monkeys in the scaffolding.

Finally, remember bears are strictly forbidden from utilizing the sidewalks.

Aside from the numerous noxious pests, that was the totality of camp: Roger's hair, a bunch of ropes on metal structures, Mike's wicked new nickname and being overworked for days on end. Yup, still living the sweet life.

Rosalita Bones.

Wurkin Por Nub

2006-08-06T00:49:00.000-07:00

""

I'm off the radar for the next week but I thought I would leave a little something for you all.

Cute little Death

2006-08-04T11:09:00.000-07:00

So here it is (drumrole please...) my new tatty. Isn't he the gosh-darned cutest thing you have ever seen? Fuck I hope not.

Ode to Ryan

2006-08-03T08:40:00.000-07:00

After years of searching, I have finally found another god among tattoo artists - which is wonderful because my usual artist Rob is always busy and he lives about seven hours away from me; whereas, Ryan is only a four hour drive. Artistically speaking, he is one of the best graphic artists I've ever seen. You can browse in awe of his shite here:

http://tattooryan.deviantart.com/gallery/

Also, today I will be getting a new tattoo. I will post some pics of later on this evening. I had a hard time deciding what would be next because all the creative good shit has been taken. For example:

I mean, come on, how do you compete with that ultimate tattooed-on-sunglasses-sportin' man. Maybe I could one day aspire to be Mrs. Cool Ice...ahhh, to dream the impossible dream.

What will I ever get now? There goes my best idea of getting Kevin Federline (maybe? Kevin Nealon?) poorly tattooed on my cooch. What the fuck are these people thinking?

Is the flag sinking into his arm? Is it attempting to escape? Is his arm actually a portal into space? Did he draw this with a crayon prior to bringing it in to the tattoo artist? Deep thoughts I will always wonder.

Note to self: do not smoke the crack pipe prior to choosing a tattoo design and do not get tattoo done by an artist hitting the pipe directly before tattoo commences.

People are idiots. jinx out.

I wanna be a cowboy.

2006-08-02T08:21:00.000-07:00

This post is due an insatiable need to eliminated the image of Steven Segal's ugly mug off the top of my blog and relentless peer pressure to get off my ass and post something. So here it is, are you ready for it? No. Okay. How about now? Too bad for you - it's a joke and goes a little something like this..

Three cowboys — from Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Texas—are sitting around a fire. The Oklahoma cowboy gloats, “Just the other day, a bull gored six men in the corral, but I wrestled it to the ground with my hands.”

The Arkansan replies, “Oh, yeah? Yesterday a 15-foot rattler came at me, so I grabbed it, bit its head off, and spit the poison into a spittoon 15 yards away.”

The Texan stays quiet, slowly stirring the coals with his penis.

I'll have some criminally indoctrinating pictures posted sometime in the near future so stay tuned whiney friends o' mine.

Rosie Posie - kissing the boys to make them cry.

Yea Gods!

2006-05-16T21:32:00.000-07:00

This is the funniest fucking thing I have seen since that David Hasselhoff cover video of "hooked on a feeling."

Yup, I'm back from Montreal and I will touch base in a few days but this ridiculousness couldn't wait.

The giant turquoise ring only adds to the whole ensemble - good choice.

Is he the crystal cave? Or is he in a crystal cave? Either way, what a fucking moron.

Temporary Insanity

2006-04-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

So, I'm off to Montreal this weekend for two weeks; however, before I leave I suddenly realize I absolutely must have my flower beds and garden planted. Sounds good, right? Sure, until I decide to dig a fire pit in my back yard, mow the lawn and rototill the crap out of the soil, plant some trees, put in a rock step to the kitchen door and set up a timed water system to everything with a slightly shady timer.

Which would be good if I didn't also have to plan a menu, create recipes, and compile a shopping list for a camp of 50 or so people by Thursday.

I'm a busy little bee about to have a nervous breakdown. At least I can reassure T-dot that procrastination doesn't end when you graduate - it's a lifetime commitment.

Maybe I can score some wicked clothes... something hot like the little number below.

Yah. Don't even have to comment on that one.

I online attempting to determine where Concordia University is, where the Students For A Free Tibet camp is being held, and discovered an amazing secret...unbeknownst to most and to my great surprise, Montreal is actually architecturally designed out of pink paper and coloured yarn.
Maybe I'll run into / stalk Leondard Cohen. To all my K-town friends I'm showing up on Thursday hope I can connect with a few of you.

My own personal blair witch project

2006-04-16T03:10:00.000-07:00

Here is an ultra creepy image of some nature I took recently:

I took about four photos of that fucking stump and they were all blurry as shit until this one which was spooky and dark - strange considering it was a sunny and bright day.

Here are some random nice shots of around where I live.

Here is some old pilings from a sternwheel dock from the days of yore. Notice the tipi in the background? Yup, this was taken in 2006.

That is one of the fundamental things I appreciate about British Columbia - the natural beauty in the more uninhabited areas of the province

a blue tattoo in the shape of a heart

2006-04-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

For all of you waiting for it, I finally got around to taking pictures of my new tattoo (ignore the obviously pictorially challenged images I took of my own arm). It is not finished yet as the fish has to be coloured with a bit of red and the lotus has yet to have the rippling iso bars around it too (much like the fish). It is also a bit big so I took 4 images to capture the image in its entirety.

Finally, ignore the wee bit of scabbing that appears at the base of the tattoo.

Arrrrrrrg matey!

2006-03-23T23:23:00.000-08:00

Woohoo I can be a pirate again. Life is not so incomplete. Gotta love the Geek Speak...even though I know you don't understand for shit. hehe.

My Library

2006-03-19T15:01:00.000-08:00

I've started doing that 'my library' thing so bear with me while it rotates the same 10 books or so...it is going to take a long, long time to catalogue all my books. I'm stoked though because I will finally have a rough estimate of how many books I own. Although, I'm going to pass on all the kids books, teaching books, practical books (ie: first aid, massage, etc.) and young adult novels (ie: Judy Blume, etc.) otherwise I would spend the next three years updating the thing.

Political Ideology = Ambiguous at best

2006-03-19T14:50:00.000-08:00

I thought I would give that little ditty that T-dot posted a shot. I'm always amazed that people can have such different political views and still be friends. I would be classified as a democrat; however, as you can see I'm tied among four categories. I would never, ever consider Anarchist beliefs to be on par with democrats though; therefore, this little political analyst is shite.

You scored as Democrat. <'Imunimaginative's Deviantart Page'>

Anarchism

100%

Green

100%

Democrat

100%

Socialist

100%

Communism

83%

Republican

Nazi

Fascism

What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In?
created with QuizFarm.com

Random shite

2006-03-19T12:48:00.000-08:00

I've noticed a large portion of my conversations lately have revolved around some form of feminist angst against patriarchy (no surprise); however, I've also noticed these conversation threads begin through some comment or gripe toward the general lack of equality that springs forth from the minds of some of the men I've been relating to lately (huge pleasant surprise). Probably a Nelson thing.

Along those lines, I saw this and initially laughed and then got pissed off because, as usual, it signifies women as some 'ball and chain' beastmasters whose only desire is to become someone's fucking wifey-wife, but then realized if I got married I would reverse the genders on the thing and laugh myself silly.

*sigh* How can I justify calling myself a pirate when everything is so incomplete! Sorry, lapsed into Geek Speak again. Fucking newsgroups. At this rate I'm going to have to start renting and ripping again.

Oh, on another note, read a fantastic book that I'm recommending as an entertaining, interesting, and witty read:

I was quite impressed with the general flow of the novel, as well as, Audrey's knowledge of early punk bands. I know that comment appears bizarre but so is the novel. Enjoy.

Uppity women unite

2006-03-10T00:37:00.000-08:00

In light of the belated International Women's Day, this is a shout out to all the present and past women of the world.

I was saddened by the lack of international recognition this day held. Hard to believe it has existed since 1909 - goes to show how repressed any demonstration of female empowerment has become.

Life can be shit at times in this patriarchal hellhole. Need proof? Watch North Country. What is most shocking and disgusting about this story is that the trial took place in 1984 - not during the 50s. Here is to survival. Women everywhere be strong.

The Simpsons...do-do-do-da-dooo-do-do-du-dodododo

2006-03-10T00:15:00.000-08:00

Here is a quick note to all of you in bloggerland - I thought I would share this must see video for all the Simpsons fans:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=49IDp76kjPw

You can thank me later. Actually, I nefariously scammed the link off another blog...teehee.

Yup, I'm finally getting my shit together and getting back into blogging.

Happy V-day

2006-02-20T23:49:00.000-08:00

Heres to another Valentines Day and the twisted, corporate and commercial society we live in which will exploit any emotion possible.

Its a little late but I know my peeps will understand. I hope we all overdose on red dye #9.

Ode to Todd

2006-02-18T17:25:00.000-08:00

I've been meticulously boycotting blogger but my withdrawal *read: unanimous harassment by friends and foe* has forced me to return. I'm like a living breathing version of the Return of the Jedi...but not that cool and, as Heavy T indicated, with shittier special effects (MS paint can only go so far - fucking Bill Gates - but that is an entirely different post).

As T-dot was, by far the biggest harasser out there I decided to write down something that I read the other day that reminded me how much I miss his sorry ass. I apologize for those of you that will find this didactic and unformatted but - you know - you can go fuck yourself. Note to readers: I did warn you about my proliferous swearing in my bio.

5:03 pm. Arrive at Greyhound with time to spare - can't say that much these days - amid a sparse few. Some passed out guy and a couple. Needless to say, if the shit hit the fan, my money would be on the creepy passed out guy - anyone that can sleep on a cold metal bench with the obnoxious whine and rattle of pop machines under a haze of fluorescent has my vote for hardcore. The wet sand grinding into the tile floor causes everyone to inadvertently glance up; thus, all are generally annoyed at the newest member to our cause.

The decor lulls us into boredom with the mix of shit brown and prison grey. It welcomes each passerby into the realm of budget hell that Greyhound shames the traveler into admitting. Ah, welcome to my life.

5:16 pm. Everyone is officially late. The stereotype of women always being 'fashionably' late (like the perpetual association of women and the capitalist consumption of clothing / image isn't bad enough) is successfully quashed. Misogynistic men - can't kill 'em, can't kill 'em. Simpco is still MIA (fucker). Bugging him would have been a moment of sanity in the general craziness of travel exhaustion.

5:55pm. Greyhound lumbers into station and still no sign of the group. Alas, the narrative of my life - waiting.
Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Sleeping guy sits up momentarily - too embarrassed to be caught in the secret underworld of sleep. He reaffirms how conformist our society can be and its utter obsession with self presentation.

Spontaneous bus depot conversation breaks free but quickly die once the obligatory "where are you going?" has been pursued, ascertained and exhausted. It is quickly replaced with uncomfortable silence.

6:03 pm. Da' boys finally show and after a crazy bus mix-up (que supresa!) we are on the road.

Lengthy drawn out ride with uncomfortable seats.

11:00 pm. Hit Kamloops amid a junkie-like crowd and a Greyhound employee purposefully avoiding the counter.

Boston Pizza and Hardeep's beautiful eyes bring me into a different world of respiratory therapy and a 19 year old with his life more together than mine.

Reflect and sulk.

11:57 pm. Onward to Starbucks. 24 hours? Enter the Twilight Zone until cabbie arrives to sweep us away to an unknown VIA Rail destination. After virtually driving into the bush, will we survive this ride becomes the pressing question. Or will we be murdered and left for dead (after being murdered? yes, I suppose one cannot actually be murdered and then left for dead - christ- weariness sets in) in some remote industrial area.

1:05 am. Nope. Not left for dead or murdered, just missed the appropriate turn off. Arrive at some wilderness outpost shadily passing itself off as a train station to see the joyful sign that stipulates the train will be not 2 or even 3 but 4 hours late.

2:33 am. What antics will wheelchair Todd get into next? Will my left leg ever come out of its prolonged slumber? Could Jag be anymore high? Questions, so many questions. The most pressing, of coarse, being WHERE THE FUCK IS THE TRAIN????

3:45 am. Hours left to go. Interesting to learn that trains do not remain unscathed from the winter torment; however, not interesting enough to make me not passively dream of burning down the remote station we sit in.

My mind is slowly shutting down from it's sleep deprived state as I realize decaf was not enough...

6:45 am. Train arrives. We board and the mammoth worm lumbers on after initial confusion. We slump down in our seats with tissue pillows and a handkerchief blanket. And out.

Wake up every hour in a daze to noisy people that assume everyone else has had just as much sleep as themselves, baking temperatures, and brief snores of protest - my knee screams softly. Selfish fuckers. Lack of sleep has directly led to maximum bitchiness.

VIA rail man is amazingly hospitable and an impressive bear claw (native?) tattoo is subtly revealed on his right hand under an unsuspecting hemp bearded bracelet that nuzzles his wrist. He is eclipsed by the manipulative cunt that attempts to force a table on us while simultaneously squinting suspiciously at us as if we are all the Devil incarnate.

Jag remains blissfully unaware while he dreams of the future and other subtle mysteries. Todd reads like a mofo (is he insane?) and I mentally ramble on at the beauty of it all.

3:27 pm. Arrive in Jasper amid icy rain, treacherous flat ices sculptures otherwise known as streets, and random clumps of caribou. We are misdirected to the pizza joint (that one is for you Jag) and after a brief foray into piggy backs and zamboni cleaned streets we almost miss our train. Everyone is pissed at us and, besides foam soap, being late becomes the general theme of our trip. We are late, we are late - for a very important date...

Extreme Vehicle Makeover: Vehicle Edition - with vehicles

2006-02-04T12:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay. I admit I've been neglecting my blog ever since the fucker decided to consume the pathetic flair* I had on my side bar. I have also been consumed with this new project. Fuck, I've spent the last two weeks obsessed with it. St. Joe has requested I post some images of luscious Lucius so here goes...

BEFORE:

DURING:

AFTER:

Here is my little Pathfinder sans running boards. I figure the total cost is: $1,150 purchase price, $650 mechanical parts, $175 paint, bondo, rock guard, sandpaper, and misc. tools = TOTALLY FUCKING SWEET DEAL. With only 214, 000 kms on this puppy I'm stoked. I figure if I had paid someone else to do the body work and mechanics I would have forked out another $5000 or so. Yes, I rock my own world.

*if you don't know what this refers to, you probably have a life and are not addicted to movies and / or the internet; however, you may live with your mom and / or desperately need to lose your virginity and, most of all, need to develop a sense of humour.

Blogger you fucking suck

2006-01-14T21:05:00.000-08:00

So apparently Blogger decided to eat the bottom half of my template in the last three days; therefore, my blog is back to its sidebar-lacking, boredom-inducing self. You'll have to bear with me while I renovate it. Can anyone that had a link on the side of my blog email me or comment me your site address again??? Thanks a trillion. Oh and T-diddy - that poop site - totally gross. I will never fully understand your obsession with pooh. Weirdo.

wtf

2006-01-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

Alert the media - Simpson has a girlfriend.

The non-rehersal.

2006-01-10T13:50:00.000-08:00

Moving sucks ass but, having recently indulged my transient nature, I have finally settled in my new surroundings. I miss my friends, I miss my routines, hell, I miss knowing where everything is in the grocery store, and I am still coping with my new non-student status - it seems to be a bit like ending a long-term relationship. Seven years are almost one third of my life spent in university (if I wasn't 31) and it becomes even scarier when I consider grade, junior, and high school. Shit, I also went to school and became a Pre-Apprenticed Auto Mechanic. Hmm, I figure there has been roughly nine years of my life where I was not attending school. Although, considering I do not remember the 0-5 years, let's say about 4 years of non-school experiences.

After two degrees and about $92, 000 of debt, I figure I need some time to de-stress; therefore, I'm strategically putting off the beginning of my career for working construction and playing video games (no, I did not lie in my 'about me' options - I am female). The problem arises when I try to discern where strategy ends and procrastination begins. Maybe I'm strategically procrastinating. On that personal, yet still boring, note...mmmm...video games.

I survived

2006-01-03T00:04:00.000-08:00

I made it, however, my hard drive did not. May we all witness a moment of silence for that piece of shit. I suffered through xmas overdose, the drunk redneck festival at the bars in my home town, excessive alcohol consumption (to cope with the drunk redneck fest.), and the wicked sleep withdrawal experiment that I subject myself to every New Year's night. Here are a few pics to prove my innocence:

My new hair which I'm sure will send all the boys 'a runnin'.

The blasted tree which did not light on fire as I had hoped. My mother practically forced me to take this picture...ah, good times with the family. This was her rendition of a christmas tree. The following two were mine.

I made it through the holiday season and heres to everyone else making it too. Cheers.

Withdrawal

2005-12-29T12:59:00.000-08:00

Currently suffering from computer / internet withdrawal. I have been temporarily delayed in the fine art of blogging due to my fucking hard drive problems. I will be back shortly when I have replaced and smashed my Maxtor HD into tiny, tiny pieces.

Too Drunk to Fuck...or Breathe

2005-12-16T02:12:00.000-08:00

My mom sent me these photos. I think it was entitled: 12 Signs You Have Had Too Much To Drink. I'm going to change the title to: Some of the Funniest Photos I Have Ever Seen...I know, doesn't have the same ring, but who gives a shit.

* Note to self - never, ever, under ANY circumstances pass out drunk around friends again.

Still Life

2005-12-15T11:58:00.000-08:00

This is a bit of a test. I am a read-a-holic and I've been meaning to update my reading list but have yet to find the time / energy / patience/ inner drive. As I dislike spoilers, particularly where books are concerned, I've decided that rather than rant and rave about each book's contents I will be briefly ambiguous in my blurbs.

I read this book for numerous reasons: I've read it about 10 times before so I know how wonderful it is, Tom Robbins rocks my world, the fuzzy peach fish and the one-eyed trouser snake, I own it (until some miscreant borrowed it from me and neglected to return it), and, most importantly, I'm a princess searching for an outlaw...or maybe, considering how much I find non-gender conforming behaviour attractive, I'm an outlaw searching for my princess.

My advice? Read it, buy it, sleep with it, eat it, be it.

Sleep deprivation and the root of all evil

2005-12-14T11:28:00.000-08:00

Last night I finally returned to my home sweet home to discover sleep was no longer and option. By 5:30 am I decided to play with light. Here is the filmy residue that was rudely left behind by my insomniac's insanity:

I did give me an opportunity to fool around with my camera in a lightless environment. So, so, SO not worth it.

Voices in my head tell me so

2005-12-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

Geez, I wish somebody had the foresight to provide me with this precious gem of advice when I was younger.

Jesus loves me but...

2005-12-07T10:23:00.000-08:00

Fucking Bible-thumpers woke me up this morning. Can you believe that? Way the fuck out here. Grrrr. Nothing like JWs after four hours sleep. Totally lame. When I told him I wasn't interested he confirmed that seemed to be the 'general consensus' here. He then had the audacity to ask why. What, am I suddenly the half dead / half asleep spokesperson for the general public in the Kootenays?

I replied: "I do not believe in organized religion and I've met a lot of hypocrites." Chalk up Jehovah's Witness one, me zero for that weak response. I wanted to get into the real reasonss but the fucker tricked me with his flashy dress clothes and his nefarious use of a cute little boy with him to deflect all flamer-based attention. As I rudely closed my door in his face, he sneakily threw out a "You know what is good? Reading the Bible" at me. Reading the Bible? Buddy, I can think of a shit load of things that I would consider 'good' that top that...and at least two that don't involved sex.

Had I been more awake, I'm sure I could have delved into many reasons why I do not believe and refuse to follow Christianity or any derivative thereof:

I have many tattoos and piercings, therefore, have already spit in God's face for desecrating his image
The Bible is a good story...most Christians would scoff at Scientologists for following some random book written by some random guy that led to particular ridiculous lifestyle choices...silly Christians - can you say "I'm a huge ass hypocrite?"
I've studied the historical inception of Christianity and there have been two Genesis stories written about 500 years apart from each other. In the original story, woman and man (Eve and Adam) were created together, equally, and at the same time out of dust from the Earth. In the later version (the one fully promoted today), Adam was created first (thus sealing his arrogant supremacy over woman) and then Eve was created out of his rib (enslaving woman for all time to be dominated by males). What a fucking treat that was to us. Suddenly the demanded subservience of women for the rest of time is rationally justified by men! Bite me you Bible freaks.
I have zero tolerance for any ideology that promotes belittling and ostracizing others that don't blindly hold the same belief structure. While many Christians would deny that is the case, how many other religions have become the support system for extremist, white supremacists? Jesus was Jewish you fucking morons. Do you think your religion is actually fostering a sense of community with its blackmailing tactics? If I don't follow it I will burn forever in the depths of Hell? Where is the unconditional love in that method of thinking.
Christianity led to the self-congratulating, self-promoting, lets all pat each other on the fucking backs for being so cool, glorified snuff film Passions of the Christ which is as scary as this - the Road Warrior was cool - Bible beating, Christian supremacy rationalizing Passions is just fucking disturbing.
Finally, the most personal by far deals with my best friend in high school. His father was known by the entire town to be an upstanding, faithful Christian. He was the head of the RCMP (those puffy pants wearing, bell-hop outfitted, horse riding cowboys with the funny hats that enforce some form of the law here in Canada) and performed good Christian acts while he lived in this wee town of 35 000 people. At home, he would tie his son to a chair and beat him until he was unconscious while he was drunk on confiscated moonshine some of the locals would make and he would tag as evidence and then bring home for his own personal stash (with the evidence tags still on). I realize this is one measly example of a good Christian gone bad, but get real...how many other hypocritical pedophile priests do you need before you realize your religion is based on and supports the reinforcement of lies?

Get a life...eschew Christianity today!

Ahh, the tangled reno web we weave

2005-12-05T21:39:00.000-08:00

This is in direct response to a post by mi amigo Captain Sexy Pants.

And you thought your bathroom was a mess!

I know, its hot. And so in a galaxy far, far away the renovation saga continues.....

Bite me Blogthings

2005-12-04T02:27:00.000-08:00

I was fucking around with various blogthings and finally came to a couple that were too absurd to not promote:
The what rejected crayon are you
You know, because it is something I have always wanted to know...who the hell thinks of these things? This was the response I was given...how did they find out? Freaky how accurate that was.

And this fucked up fortune cookie generator
A useless crappy fortune says what? Oh, ya here it is:
Baseball got it all wrong � man with four balls cannot walk.

Hmm, did baseball get it all wrong? Shit there goes all my life plans that were intrinsically tied with baseball. How will I ever survive?

I decided to give the fortune one more shot and was amply rewarded with some deep thoughts:
Better to be pissed off than pissed on

I'm thinking of changing my blog title to reflect this tidbit of wisdom.

Life and other absurdities

2005-12-04T01:40:00.000-08:00

You ever have days where you wake up feeling like this?

Sylvia - you prickly pear

2005-12-03T01:48:00.001-08:00

By Candlelight

This is winter, this is night, small love --
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you on my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.

This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.

At first the candle will not bloom at all --
It snuffs its bud
To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent, as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is yours, the little brassy Atlas --
Poor heirloom, all you have,
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five balls! Five bright brass balls!
To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

Sylvia Plath

Tis the season to be jolly...or take a shotgun to those fucking singing deer heads.

2005-12-03T00:32:00.000-08:00

As an advocate of non-materialistic lifestyles, my commune-originated, ex-hippy family opts to pass on Christmas gifts. This results in, for the most part, a less stressful holiday; however, we usually cheat and buy something small (i.e.: a few years ago we were limited to only thrift store items for each other or we have a minimal price cap). We have decided that Christmas should really be for kids, ergo, all the children in our immediate and extended family enjoy all the attention. I recommend everyone try this approach. It deflects the holiday focus from massive consumption to a more intimate family gathering. As long as you make if clear to everyone you are acquainted with that may consider buying you a gift, you are free to enjoy the ridiculously consumer orientated, Christian propagandized greed fest.

Even if I didn't believe in the benefits of reduced consumption, I would do it solely to avoid the holiday mayhem in stores, traffic insanity on the streets, and onslaught of crappy, kill the fucking stereo, Christmas music that pours forth from every fucker with a stereo, street radio, store front, mall, convenience store, gas station pumps, peoples yards, those God-damn singing deer heads that have sprouted like a bad crabs outbreak on every available wall, and dancing Santa figurines that you want to bash repeatedly against those fucking lame-ass, country-singing deer heads.

The limited-time-only selection of mandarin oranges and eggnog almost make it worth it....until you go to buy them and are audibly assaulted by another one of those fucked up plastic deer heads singing at the end of the checkout line. Christ. I want to take my oranges and repeatedly pummel the fuckhead who thought that was some brilliant idea. Give him (because what female would glorify personification of a hunted, killed, then glorified Bambi) a fucking eggnog enema...see how witty a fake hunting trophy, singing deer head is then buddy. Moron.

Fucking counters

2005-12-02T20:35:00.000-08:00

Okay, here it is. My web counter because I'm a geek and curiosity is lurking in the deeper recesses of my mind and slowly provoking it to torturous lengths. Fucker.
Web Site Counter

2005-11-30T01:54:00.000-08:00

Finally I have more than five minutes to get my sorry ass posting again. Captain Sexy Pants is most likely peeing himself with excitement. So I bought this bra the other day - no this is not the intro to a joke and sorry boys, I know the previous line has instantly bored some of your wee sophomoric minds but the lives of the Maxim women are facetious and this is real life; however, as I was saying, this rudimentary torture device feels like a black spandex gun holster. By the end of the day, not only do my shoulders feel like I've been packing around a couple of AK-47s, but every time I put it on or take if off I feel like some gangster or cop or some facsimile thereof. Fucked up!

Being a reasonable feminist, I've decided the only logical result is, of course, to rename my breasts Glock and Beretta. I considered Remington and Winchester but the previous sounds too much like that lame-ass razor company and the latter reminds me of some uptight, British shire name. So much for my 'shelf' - from now on I too can mimic the all-to-blatant penile compensatory line "welcome to the gun show"...followed by my bodily preening of my breastesses- except for the obvious - I do not have a penis nor any desire to ever have one. However, those of you reading this post are all witnesses to the historic event of the Renaming of the Breasts (I swear it will be an olympic event someday).

Back to the bra though, I mean come on, bras were invented how many hundreds of years ago??? Why does the action of finding a comfortable bra cease to exist even after all of these years? More importantly, why are there so many lame ass words for breasts? Boobs, melons, jugs, tits, etc. there is such a lack of imagination in the naming of these fatty, mammary gland filled skin sacks (appealing isn't it). Ludicrous projections of sexuality run rampant when one considers the breast; yet, considering their numerous abilities, they should have a mysteriously powerful name whose mystery is only succeeded by its power. Just a thought. Me and my funbags are now going to contemplate the ancient, existential dilemma – what is a breast, really?

That picture of me is so hot!

2005-11-23T10:28:00.000-08:00

Damn I look good. This is a response to the wee comment captain sexy pants decided to leave me.

Fuck does dial-up suck ass. What if I was dying and desperately needed to search google for a cure for my death? What is up with people continuing to use this archaic method of internet???

I have to go listen to the sweet sounds of Perry Como on my 8-track before watching episodes of The Andy Griffin Show on my betamax now. I will post further when I get home...impatient bitch aren't you? As Nelson would say: "ha ha!"

the ridiculous art of parking

2005-11-15T09:44:00.000-08:00

So I was driving into town yesterday and dreading those materialistic parking meters - I think there are only in it for the money- because suddenly not only do I have to have change in my pocket but only quarters and loonies will suffice. I realized I had made the dreaded mistake of using my change a few days prior to tip my server and a frantic quest for quarters resulted. While this appears to be an average, ordinary, and daily behaviour, I assure you it led to something much more disturbing. While I was digging through every crevice in my vehicle and simultaneously cursing the lurking meter persons (I am convinced they are all agents of the antichrist), I began to wonder: who the fuck becomes a meter person? Is there some inner drive in certain people to not only be ridiculed and dreaded but generally just despised? Or is it one of those underappreciated jobs that are necessary for the society to function properly, such as: being a garbage collector, working as a dish pig in the restaurant industry, cleaning public restrooms, or high school guidance counsellors?

Are meter people the result of a failed attempt to becoming a cop? I know working as a security guard (yes that was the high point of my employment history) that the security field is riddled with wannabe police - maybe a secret need to manipulate, power trip, and legally bully random members of society lies in the hearts of most parking people. Do parking people believe they are a respected member of society? Did they ever, prior to their illustrious careers as parking people, curse other parking people?

Upon realizing I did not have the appropriate change, I dreaded going into the store across the street to request change for a toonie. I've realized this is a lingering dread that is a direct result of living in Vancouver and having paranoid, irrational store owners that believe when requesting change I actually had the intention of: a) robbing them while get change, b) scamming them with counterfeit money (likely to happen one measly dollar at a time), or c) the five dollar bill I'm holding is invisible and I'm actually panhandling for change. I find the provoked response varies between one or all of the above in a direct correlation with how many of my tattoos / piercings are visible. This had led to an inner cringing at the innocent request for change. After defeating myself in an inner battle (and receiving a few odd looks for standing on the sidewalk vacantly staring at my truck's hood), I was determined to get my quarters.

As fate would have it, the store owner amiably obliged in providing change for my toonie (1 loonie, three quarters, two dimes, and a nickel - thus proving the guy has never parked at a parking meter in the past decade or else he would have known dimes and nickels, in the realm of parking, are comparable to the one dollar bills in Monopoly - completely useless and makes one wonder why they even exist...but that is another rant altogether. On this fateful day, however, he not only made change but happened to be an inside man in the mysteriously crappy realm of parking. He informed me that there was only one parking person patrolling (I had to stifle a laugh at that particular term but it did, in an offhand way, answer the wannabe cop question) because...your not going to believe this one....the other parking person was DRAGGING THE LAKE FOR A BODY! Can you believe that? Is that what all parking people do in their off time or is that one of the pre-requisites of the job? Must be able to handle criticism and verbal abuse, be obsessed with appropriate change, oh, and not vomit at the idea of pulling a corpse out of the lake. Unfucking believable. Nelson is a small town (roughly 35 000) but not only are there city police but there is also an RCMP detachment here...its not like there is a shortage of cops to go looking for dead bodies. Why was it necessary for one of the parking people to do it? Did he volunteer? If he did, didn't the police see that action as kind of creepy?

I will certainly never, ever think of parking people in the same light, ever again. And if you haven't seen it yet, I recommend watching the mocumentary (which must have been filmed in Vancouver) that delves into the phenomenon of the parking people entitled "The Delicate Art of Parking." The humour is subtle as it presents itself as an actual documentary and it drags a little at times but it does aim to answer many of the questions I have presented here.

and so it begins...

2005-11-14T22:19:00.000-08:00

I've been avoiding the blog scene like the plague but now, thanks Jason!, it appears I'm left with little alternative but to send the meagre details of my life out into cyberspace and hope it remains hidden in the depths of the web to be drudged up only by my doing. What a world, what a world. I feel as if this is a test and I was too hung over to study. I'm sure with time it gets easier and more natural to publish the insignificance of my values, beliefs, thoughts, and feelings but at the moment I am a marionette with a silenced voice.