The Paraphernalia of Life

I was going to call this post "The Stuff of Life." But then I used a thesaurus, and "paraphernalia" it is.

Thursday's Odd & Ends

Maybe last night's post was a little premature. Because while I'm still egging on my inner workaholic, the crossword clues may not happen. Because I don't have 30 free hours in the next 10 days to write 1200-1500 questions.

However, I'm going to hit the 50-hour mark at work this week.

Speaking of work....

Dalton McGuinty visited our L.A. office yesterday. I have no idea why. I believe it would make more sense for him to visit the ONTARIO office. Maybe he heard that Bono owns us. Maybe he's a rocker-stalker.

Speaking of stalkers....

I'm Harriet the Spy. With Google. Seriously. If you have a secret online (and I happen to care), I will find it. You are warned. Without going into incriminating detail, I will sheepishly admit that I used my researching skills quite impressively this week. Because I wanted to know. And even though he's a Facebook friend, I'm really just a fan on a first-name basis. Our entire relationship revolves around one hot summer's night in 2003, sipping juice (yes, juice) on his couch until 6 in the morning.

And that is my scandalous-sounding story. Adding details would make it painfully boring and uneventful.

Oh, and I was right. I totally called who the fiancée is.

Speaking of Facebook friends....

Facebook likes to tell me that one of my friends is in love with me. Its ads are starting to make me paranoid. It knows I'm single. And how old I am. (The other day, an ad said, "24 and still single?" Still? What are you trying to say, Facebook?) And while there may be a faint possibility that one of my 232 "friends" indeed thinks I'm the bees knees (Really, how could they not?), I certainly hope that he (please let the friend be a "he") would have the courage to say so in a non-Facebook-ad format. I mean, that's what those walls are for.

Speaking of people who are in love with me....

I posted about Ryan Gosling over at MovieZen. A fictional love. But still. Minor detail. He's re-teaming with his Lars and the Real Girl director. I love that movie. So much. Probably more than I love Gosling. And the doll, Bianca, is brilliant. She should date Wilson the volleyball.

Speaking of dolls....

I don't understand this. At all. But I sort of love it. (No "Who's more real, the puppet or the Parton?" jokes, folks.) It makes me want to embrace my inner karaoke superstar. But I'd have to change the lyrics to "7:45 to 5"....



And yes, the subtitles in the video drive me crazy. Once an editor, always a neurotic viewer.