Monday's On My Mind

Stuff I'm thinking. On a superficial level. That's as deep as my brain goes this evening. It's a little sore.

• Dancing with the Stars has lost its novelty. I don't care enough to accidentally watch it.
• I suddenly like Castle. I think I'm obsessed with anything writer-related.
• Paul Gross on Eastwick = poor man's version of Jack Nicholson. Too bad. I once loved Paul.
• I need to learn css and html and everything code- and design-related. My ideas cannot magically appear without knowledge. And so I shall learn.
• I will not write a 650-word article for $4. Now you know.
• I took Tylenol tonight. I haven't had a headache in months. It's been so long, I'm not even complaining about this one. I figure it's time.
• Coffee will be waiting for me in the morning. Yes, folks, I have an official writing-related reason to leave my apartment.
• I need new shoes. But writers don't need shoes. We just need slippers. Shopping trip averted.
• The new "cocktail lounge" across the street is actually a sports bar. I am so confused. If I need to hang out with questionable characters late at night, I'll stick with the pub next door. It has karaoke.

Sunday Stuff: The Sequel

Just some really fantastic randomness that's stuck in my brain, begging to be released. And so I release it.

• I need a shoe rack. It will probably have to be custom-made. I am debating between starting a handy-gal blog to chronicle my attempt at such a creation and the easier option of asking someone who knows what he's doing. Yeah, I said "he." Don't shoot me, girls. ("She's so hot she's making me sexist" just popped into my head. Go watch Flight of the Conchords. Now.)

• I spent a lovely day with a newly engaged friend yesterday. They have a great proposal story. But not quite as extreme as these. (Number 5 is pretty awesome.)

• Mail Goggles is pure genius. And is the perfect follow-up to a recent conversation I had with a friend about drunk-dialing. Personally, I'm more terrified of exhaustion. I have plenty of email drafts that will never be sent thanks to some remarkable post-midnight self-control. (Quite appropriately, I believe I was introduced to this Gmail Labs feature in the wee hours of the morning.)

• One day my email drafts will be compiled into a book. Or a one-woman play.

• Addictive vs. addicting. The grammar mystery has been solved. I actually once rewrote a sentence to avoid having to use either word.

• I'm a writer. Just thought I'd throw that out there. You know, in case you were wondering.

• Toby MacBook has a very boring laptop sleeve to hang out in when we travel places together. This would make him more fun. And give him a little more personality. (Barry's Farm, as a general rule, makes me want to spend money on things that protect gadgets I don't even own yet.)

• Sometimes conversation with kids is awkward. Me: "Are you from Toronto?" Her: "No, I'm from Canada." Me: "Where in Canada do you live?" Her: "Far away from Myrtle Beach."

• My favorite Natasha Bedingfield song EVER is "Stumble." Probably because she mentions spelling. Among other things.

• I need to buy a real domain name and go pro with this whole personal-blogging business. This is really just a "note to self." Feel free to ignore.

This upcoming week is going to be a tough one. I can already tell. But a good tough. The kind that will make me reevaluate my time, my priorities, my day-to-day non-negotiables. Career and ministry updates will follow shortly. There will be more weddings, folks. Because I'm an expert.

Sunday Stuff

Another "stuff" post. 'Cause I like stuff.

• This article makes me giddy. If you haven't seen Julie & Julia, I highly recommend it. Not only will it desensitize you to the boiling of live lobsters, it will inspire your inner blogger. Book deal, here I come!
• Liv Tyler and I could be twins. I pretty much wear this exact outfit every week. Minus the sunglasses.
• Read Sex God. I'm serious. I keep trying to quote from it, but I can't. Because I end up wanting to transcribe the entire thing. It is a little awkward to bring up in conversation, though. "So I was reading Sex God last night...."
• I received a sad email recently, one that hinted at a young marriage in significant trouble. Maybe they need to kiss more. Or better. (The Onion rocks.)
• Why is everyone talking about the darkness and goriness of District 9? I thought it was excellent storytelling, evenly paced with solid action sequences and heartbreaking character development. I wasn't even slightly disturbed. Which now disturbs me. Quick, someone reassure me that it's completely normal to not freak out over exploding humans.

Saturday Stuff

This is sort of my Friday, as yesterday was filled with the sorts of fun distractions usually reserved for the weekend. So I'm writing. And planning. And attempting to be productive.

So here's some random stuff to keep you occupied while I pretend to be a writer:

Yes, there's an animated bird on his hand.

And people are dancing in the street.

I'm still obsessed with this movie.

• I hope I'd be this strong: Those Aren't Fighting Words, Dear
• I'm a nerd: 73 Ways to Become a Better Writer
• I know these chords. I'm practically a rock star.
• I should probably own this shirt. Because it's kind of true.
• Touching Strangers. Photographs of strangers posing together. Genius concept.
• Every once in a while, I get the brilliant idea that I should be a house-sitter. I could live overseas, water some gardens and walk some dogs in exchange for free lodging, and write a novel.

TiLF: Things I Love Friday

Sleeping in.

And then rolling over and sleeping some more.

Eric Hutchinson.

On piano. On guitar. I think we'd be friends. But you already know this. 

Rob Thomas.

With and without Matchbox Twenty. I think I might love his new album. Time will tell.

iTunes gift card.

My family celebrated my birthday on Canada Day. Even though the actual date of my birthday is August 17th. That gives the rest of you plenty of time to figure out how to celebrate me.

(The iTunes card is merely enabling me. So addicted. Next up: Motion City Soundtrack.)

Dark-chocolate-covered coffee beans.

I like to eat my caffeine just as much as I like to drink it.

Writing.

Without direction, deadline or expectation. Sometimes it's nice to just let the brain go nuts.

Natalie Portman in Garden State.

I love this movie. And if I were a boy, I'd want to marry Natalie.

Google. 

Paul Rudd. 

Rumors of Zac Levi being Gargamel in the 3D Smurfs movie.

I'm so conflicted. And amused.

Doug the piano.

Even though he's almost broken. I guess 20 years is a long life for a much-loved digital piano. He's my therapist.

(A piano is a great gift idea. So if you love me and have a few grand to spare....)

myvintagevogue's photo stream.

I spent way too much time oohing and aahing over photos today. Next time I'm invited to the Oscars, I'm going vintage. 

The Blog Without Nadine

Nadine is in Stratford-recovery mode. So I, the blog, am choosing to seize the moment and spew her half-written, discarded and almost-deleted thoughts into cyberspace.

Stolen from her draft folder, email archives and the like, I present to you the Real Nadine:

Words

Today I typed the word "panties." And then my fingers almost went on strike. Seriously awful word.

Paranoia

Ever wonder if there are Gmail elves who read your messages to friends?

Who You Gonna Call?

If I were a superhero, I'd be SuperVague. And no one would ever have any idea what I was talking about. 

Waitress-y

"I would totally make out with my gynecologist."

~Best out-of-context quote ever.

Genius

Maybe I should record an album of Nickelback covers.

Legislated Nostalgia

There are days when I catch myself almost nostalgically crushing on Dave Grohl. Because of Nirvana. And Nevermind. And when I hear "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I think of deodorant, gunshot wounds, Moulin Rouge and a collage of media images: fans carving Cobain's initials into their arms, weeping uncontrollably.

I don't know if Kurt and I would have been friends.

Do Not Send

I should be studying right now. I have a final examination tomorrow and my attendance for the particular class hasn't exactly been exemplary. Unfortunately, my brain is actively rebelling against all forms of theatrical theory, and I find myself sitting here, pen in hand, unable to think of anything but you.

This has to stop.

~Unsent letter. University.

Beautiful

I tried to find an ugly person once. I was in a really dark place emotionally, and felt invisible and hideous and all those things that are complete LIES. So I started people-watching. And I noticed that there are no ugly people. None. And since I'm not the exception to the rule, I must be beautiful too.

Awkward

Decaffeinated coffee is kind of like kissing your sister.

~Bob Irwin

Honest

FRIEND: What if you had two options: You could have the future you currently want. Or you could have whatever God's planned, which may or may not include what's in your head.

[awkward silence]

ME: I'd trust God. But I might throw up a little.

Speaking of Vomit...

A little boy threw up on the bus. I wanted to hug him.

A grown man spit in the subway. I wanted to push him onto the tracks.

Speed without Keanu

I need to learn to read at a speaking pace.

Sheesh

Funny how I'll give away the "fat" clothes but not the "skinny" ones. Being a girl is rough sometimes. I once had a size 4 skirt beside a size 13 skirt in my closet. Neither fit. I got rid of the larger one.

Truth

Batman on the red carpet would be amazing.

Captain Obvious

I have a very active brain life.

Nadine will be back to blogging shortly. She'll read this, be shocked at the unauthorized revealing of her deepest darkest drafts, and will most likely delete this. She's like that. Sometimes.

Pop-Culture Saturday

I'll blog about something super-deep and inspiring soon. For instance, last night I discovered that I might actually prefer Billy Joel over Elton John. Quite the revelation.

In the meantime....

I Heart Kids

(via harbouring)

Harry Potter > Twilight

I read Twilight. I'll probably chat about it here. It's pretty much porn for teen girls. Dangerous. I'm glad it wasn't around when I was 16.

(via overanalyzed words)

Psycho in the Streets

At his best.

(via oneshouldreadeverything)

See Star Trek

And then maybe see it again. J.J. Abrams is my hero.

My Little Spock

Random Saturday Musings

I Beg to Differ

this is my heart. it is a good heart.

I'm by no means an accomplished songwriter, but I am super-confident that most people have had a song written about them. Not necessarily a love song, but a song nonetheless. And most of these songs will never be played for an audience. Unless that audience is Boy Behind the Wall. I'm pretty sure he stays up late, his ear against the wall, listening to me play.

J'aime Lire

The Cherry Blossom Girl

Note to self: read Enid Blyton in French.

Truth On TV

There is a thin line between love and hate, and it turns out that line is a scarf.

~Rachel, Friends

Skinny Me

I stepped on the scale this morning. I must have reset it when cleaning yesterday, as it displayed my weight in kilograms instead of pounds. For a moment, I thought I had lost 70 pounds overnight. Diet secret of the stars.

The Sound of Silence

This movie was not "magical." It was psychological torture. I watched it in high school with a girlfriend. Our friendship was unique in that every single movie night we held was guaranteed to feature the worst movies ever made. This was one of them. Maybe it was because my friend's parents were divorced and it hit too close to home. Maybe it's because I find the silent treatment both cruel and unproductive. I don't know.

I also don't know why the film popped into my head today. But it did.

Why Does it Look Like a BOMB?!

There are no words. Okay, maybe one: INSANITY. Girls, a timer on the bra solves nothing. Wearing your desperation will never be trendy.

Swim Like It's 1960

Norma Kamali Collection

I need a new swimsuit. Preferably one that doesn't make me do the self-loathing dance in the fitting room. I'm not-so-secretly hoping my Mad Men infatuation will translate into my swimwear. And that a lifestyle of poolside cocktails will follow.

Jesus Forgives, Right?

I'm skipping church tomorrow so that I can sample beer at the Steam Whistle Brewery before listening to opera at St. Lawrence Hall. Would Jesus drink beer on a Sunday morning? Maybe.

My Life as a Chair

source:
Swedish Furniture Name Generator

My Weekend [Out of Context]

I'll expand later. Maybe.

• I want to spend a summer at the Artists' Colony in Banff. Or just head west for the Stampede. I'm a repressed cowgirl.
  
• I need to meet the newest member of the theatre company that does not yet exist.
  
• If I had to be stuck on a supernatural island with someone, I would pick Desmond. Everyone else would pick Sayid.
• Chilean wine does not make your hands turn blue. Unwashed denim does.
• Inviting a stranger you meet on the street to come to a birthday dinner is brilliant.
• Even more brilliant? She shows up and becomes a friend.
  
• I have an unbelievably fast karate chop. 71 km/hr.
• Hugh Jackman is a better person than I am.
• I like kids. Even kids who scream in dark tunnels.
• According to science, flirting calms me down.
  
• Islands do move.
• My childhood was not like 7th Heaven. The cops found weapons in my house.
  
• I think I have plans for March 2010. In Adelaide, Australia.
• I need more road trips in my life. Step one: Make friends with awesome person with car. Check.
  
• 2009 is the year of my first 5k. Promise.

Kissing is Dangerous. And Other Tales.

Kiss of Deaf

(This was already discussed at work. So if you work with me, this may seem repetitive. And, yes, you deserve all the credit for the link, Kathleen.)

I used to call my mom's best friend Aunt Mom's-Best-Friend. Okay, so she had a real name that followed "aunt," but this blog is about me, not her. Anywho, Aunt MBF is married to Uncle MBFH (Mom's-Best-Friend's-Husband), a man she didn't marry until she was in her 40s. So clearly he was amazing. And worth the wait.

Uncle MBFH has a way with kids. He asks the right questions, engaging you as if he's genuinely interested in your life. But he also knows how to embarrass you. With two carefully chosen words.

I showed up for dinner one year with curly hair (I told you I wanted to be Amy Grant). His response?

"You know what causes curly hair, right?"

"Uh, no." (Thinking: Perm solution.)

"Excessive kissing."

I turn bright red. As per usual.

This is his explanation for everything. If you do well in school, dye your hair, break a limb, exhibit some sort of quirky behavior, it's a consequence of excessive kissing. It's a foolproof way to make a kid/teenager/me squirm. Because you really don't want your parents' friends speculating about such things. Whether the accusation is true or so far from reality (the wise assumption in my case), it doesn't matter. It's just plain awkward. And hilarious.

Well, excessive kissing was in the news this week. Apparently you have to worry about more than your hair going curly.

A young Chinese woman was left partially deaf following a passionate kiss from her boyfriend.

The 20-something from Zhuhai in Guangdong province arrived at hospital having completely lost the hearing in her left ear, said local reports.

The incident prompted a series of articles in the local media warning of the dangers of excessive kissing.

"While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution," wrote the China Daily.

source

Um, not to judge (okay, I'm totally judging), but I don't think it was the excessiveness. I think it was his technique. Maybe he should pull a Judy Blume and practice on his pillow.

P.S. She'll regain total hearing in a couple of months. And then she'll become a nun.

"Girls"

A 9-year-old is hanging out on the playground. He notices that his friends are having trouble with the ladies. So he writes a 46-page pamphlet entitled "Girls" filled with relationship advice and sells it at his school's book fair.

He gets a book deal. And then sells the movie rights.

I kid you not. [Insert envy here.]

A sample of his brilliance:

Comb your hair and don't wear sweat pants.


Control your hyperness (cut down on sugar if necessary).


A crush is like a love disease that can drive you mad.


It is easy to spot pretty girls because they have big earrings, fancy dresses and all the jewelry, but they are like cars that need a lot of oil.

Read this excerpt. You will laugh. And identify. 'Cause you were 9 once.

Adorable. I just hope he doesn't grow up to be an annoying know-it-all. Of course, I read Life On the Edge when I was 11, making decisions about what I wanted in a husband before cooties were completely eradicated from my peer group. I'm pretty sure sweat pants and sugar consumption were not deal-breakers. But I was 11, not 9. Going on 45. And was probably a bit of a self-appointed know-it-all too.

Playing For Change

This song gave me chills today. Happy chills. Musicians from all over the world layered their parts to a traveling recording of "Stand By Me." 

I'm having a Miss America moment. World peace is where it's at.

Watch until the end. It gets pretty crazy/beautiful.

YouTube Tuesday: Hugh Grant

There is no rhyme or reason. So don't expect one. It's Tuesday. And I like Hugh Grant, both with floppy hair and without.

Let's begin with something inspirational. Seriously, folks, About a Boy is probably the best film about redemption that stars Hugh Grant ever.

(In Vancouver, we did karaoke to this song. The on-screen lyrics were "Strumming my face with his finger." If anyone ever strums my face, he will be asked to leave.)



Because dancing is awesome. Especially when you think no one is watching.



And I heart the '80s. Especially the fake '80s.



Okay, that's it for me. I'm off to bed.

P.S. If you rent Music and Lyrics, turn on the English subtitles. And know that those commas were typed with love.

Random Stuff. Mostly Boy-Related.

Lady in Red

According to a new study, I'm totally irresistible to the opposite sex on weekends. And on Fridays. Because when I'm at home, typing away, I wear read sweats. And red = men love me. It's science. I suppose I would have to leave my apartment in my state of redness for this to be more effective. Details, details.

Unfortunately, redness only affects attractiveness. Not likability. So when I'm in red, you might think I'm hot without actually liking me. But really, who doesn't find over-sized red sweatpants sexy?

Can you imagine the damage a little red dress could do? I won't even go there.

[Don't] Kiss Me, I'm Irish

For a brief moment this week, I wanted to dress like Colin Farrell. Maybe it's because we have the same hair. But really, if I were a boy, I would wear fedoras. And vests.

I used to find Colin a little gross. Not so much anymore. Maybe I'm just getting older and learning to appreciate disheveled European men. Or maybe he now showers a little more frequently. Hmm.

"I Don't"

I think about weddings a lot. Because I'm paid to write about them. I don't plan my own nuptials in my head, however, I just admire others'. I'm not really an insert-groom-here kind of gal. The only detail I insist on is that a pretty fantastic guy be waiting to meet me when I walk down the aisle. That's all.

If my future husband reads this (super-weird thought), please don't include the word "psych" in your proposal.

Nadine the Numbat


When I was in public school, every time we played the name game, I had to introduce myself as "Nadine the Numbat." Because I could never think of another N animal. (No, I didn't think of narwhal or nightingale.) This week, I learned that numbats are actually rather cool-looking marsupials that eat termites. So I should have been prouder of the name. I think I'll add "see numbat" to the list of things to do before I die. Right beside "see wombat." Since they're neighbors.

Once Upon a Dream

I had a dream this week that was thematically linked to a dream I had in high school. Sort of. Only this one had a new cast of characters. But it was equally traumatic.

I'm at a café near my house. In the parking lot, actually. And his closest friends are there, rather dapper in tuxedos and suits. Waiting. They start to holler and cheer as a car drives by, decked out in streamers.

He got married today. No one told me.

Exactly nine days after our last date.

Apparently, my dreams have a sense of time. And history. I don't know why I knew it was nine days. But I woke up in a burdened daze. It was so real, so awkward, so confusing.

It's probably a good thing I have no idea what such a dream means. Thankfully, I did not have a date nine days ago. That would just be painful.

(The high-school dream involved a cute boy from youth group marrying Amy from the book Little Women. Instead of me. And no one told me until I accidentally arrived at the ceremony.)

The Duggars

I'm going to have to blog about this family at a later date. I caught the episode of their show 17 Kids and Counting in which their eldest proposed to the girl he wasn't dating. (She didn't want to court until she turned 20. So he proposed on her 20th birthday.) And I surprised myself by my strong reaction. Yes, I think it's totally cool and honorable to not kiss until your wedding day. Drawing names as to which little sibling will chaperon your dinner date is pushing it, though. Constant policing DOES NOT EQUAL SELF-CONTROL. Sheesh. And if you didn't date before you got engaged, and can't spend time alone together after you get engaged, marriage might be a little weird. You know, 'cause all of a sudden you have to hang out with your spouse.

Two Minutes

I'm busy. But I might have time for a two-minute date. See below. And yes, it's in real time. Seriously, How I Met Your Mother is my new favorite sitcom (that isn't The Office. Or 30 Rock).

Bad Joke of the Day

q: Why do girls wear makeup and perfume?
a: Because they're ugly and they stink.

Seriously, I need to go to bed. Now.

'Night, all.

Sound Bytes and Twitter

1. The other night, I had a strange little unbloggable conversation. It was completely made up of sound bytes. Unintentionally. But if I were to transcribe it, it would read as a slick movie script. Almost unbelievable. You'd shake your head with cynicism, claiming that real people don't speak that way. But they do. Unless I'm not real. Which is a very real possibility.

2. I am now on Twitter. Follow me.

3. A Flight of the Conchords song keeps looping in my head. And it's not "Albi the Racist Dragon." Although I wish it was.

"What the world needs now...

...is blog, sweet blog."

Okay, so my blogging has been a little sporadic and random as of late. But I'm not sure how to catch up (or if I should even try). Life is busy and good and sometimes a little overwhelming. The end. Actually, no. Not the end. That would be sad.

So I'll just continue with the randomness. But a little more personal and less Paul Newman-y. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


Debate

I watched tonight's debate while doing Pilates on my living-room floor. I figured that this would guarantee that the time invested would be worthwhile. Even if the platforms aren't solid, my abs will be. Ha.

And no, I didn't flip to Palin. I figure the highlights will be all over YouTube in the morning. By "highlights," I mean "hilarity."

Sleep

Apparently, despite 25 years of sleeping experience, I still don't know how to successfully get some comfortable shuteye. I woke up with an almost crippling neck pain today. I think I pulled a muscle in my sleep. Is this possible?

I need a roommate. One who happens to be a masseuse.


Journals

I have a stack of old journals sitting on my must-be-in-love-to-squeeze-onto-it couch (it's super-tiny). I often quote them here. Because my younger self fascinates me.

There are a few things quite hilarious/tragic/telling in them:

• Certain events inspire journaling. So all entries are tied thematically. In fact, if you didn't notice that entries are often months apart, you'd think that I spend all day, every day, feeling the same thing, obsessing about the same situation. Or one of three recurring situations.
  
• I am loyal. Ridiculously so. It appears that one crush lasted three years. Probably not healthy. But I was young. And it kept me out of trouble.
• I apologize in them. As if my entries are actually being written to someone. There are disclaimers, justifications, excuses and such.
  
• Melodrama, folks. I could adapt them into a teen series for the WB network.
• I had opinions about sex when I was 11. Yes, 11.
  
• Eventually, journal entries turned into prayers. Or at least conversation with God. But it would take six pages of babbling before I let myself recognize that He's reading.
• I wish I could talk to my 16-year-old self. I would tell her she's beautiful. I don't know if she'd listen.
• Some childhood dreams were not left behind with childhood.
• I didn't always tell the whole truth. Some things I just couldn't let myself put on paper. Because then they'd be true. Or I'd be held accountable to my words.

My Apologies

On Tuesday night, I apologized for not being a smoker and for not being a lesbian. Which is perhaps better than the time I walked by the homeless man and said, "Thank you."


Lucky

I've never had lucky socks. Or lucky underwear. Or a rabbit's foot hanging off my backpack. But I think I have a lucky shirt. Actually, it may be a little early to dub it as such, as I've only worn it three times. But those three times resulted in three fabulous evenings. Two involving music. All involving fantastic people (of varying degrees of fantasticness). Maybe it's not the shirt that's wonderful, but the fact that I wasn't spending my evening in front of a computer screen. Hmm. Tough call. But I'm not sure if I want to risk ruining my little happy streak by doing a grocery run on a rainy Saturday morning in it, you know? Unless that grocery store is a really sensational one. And grapes are on sale.

(As an awkward aside, I kind of love "Lucy Got Lucky." Guilty pleasure. Maybe because I went school with the girl who plays Lucy in the video. Or maybe because "So another Molly Ringwald, well, she finds her Judd" makes me smile.)

Spilling Secrets

You're probably wondering, "Hmm. What are seven things I don't know about Nadine?"

Fortunately for you, I was tagged.

I think I'm too open-book. I'm having a hard time coming up with things you don't know that you don't not know because I don't want you to know. You know?

Huh.

one
I've probably written close to 50 songs in my lifetime. Maybe more. You will probably never hear any of them. My favorite place to write was the dark soundproof music room in the basement of my university dorm. At midnight.

two
I wrote a rap once. A preppy rap. It can also be sung to the tune of the verse of Britney Spears' "Crazy." This was intentional. Unfortunately, for various reasons, it was never performed.

Yo, I'm hip with it and I'm far from frumpy
My perm grew out and my mascara's not clumpy
I walk to school on the driver's day off
I dance the dance, I talk the talk
I don't give a beep if I break a nail
My duds are the kind you won't find on sale
If it doesn't say Gap, it's not on my bod
'Cause I'm from the country club and Gap is God

I miss my perm.

I also now shop at the Gap. Because my perm grew out, I suppose.

three
I refused to put posters of heartthrobs on my wall when I was a teenager. This wasn't because I was particularly more mature than my peers; I was exercising caution in case Freddie Prinze Jr. stopped by. I didn't want to creep him out.

four
It's common knowledge that I don't have a license. What most don't know is that I don't know how to drive. At all. It's not just a lack of license, it's a lack of knowledge/skill. Perhaps my failure at "Mario Kart" has influenced my vehicular disinterest. (I was once called, quite eloquently, "the worst video-game player in the history of the world.") I've never ridden a riding lawn mower either. In case you were wondering.

And oddly enough, because I can't drive, I'm the most peaceful and trusting passenger ever.

five
I was offered beer when I was 5 years old. I was so appalled at the stupidity of the adult that I still don't drink it. Maybe I'll have a pint in Dublin one day. With Bono.

six
Every morning, I drink a "greens" drink that's absolutely disgusting. But it's good for my bones. So I do it. There's a slightly longer story here. But that's for a separate entry, not a list. Oh, and I love the taste of All Bran.

seven
I want to live in a trailer park. Actually, I want to own a trailer park. And make it cool. It would be a condo alternative for my generation. And I'd build a mini-golf course that doubles as a night club: The Golf Club. With crazy lighting and local bands playing. Maybe I'll serve mar-tee-nis. And you'll all want your own trailers. Trust me. And I'll be living the life in my double-wide with plantation shutters and hardwood floors. Writing my novel about twenty-somethings who live in a trailer park.

I tag everyone who reads this. Seriously. You're it.

A Rare Survey

I rarely fill these out. But because this one didn't ask me about my crush or what my last text message was, I figured I'd give it a go....


If you were one of the Seven Dwarfs, which one would you be?
Dopey. Because I'm beardless.
Doc. Because I wear glasses.
Sleepy. Because I am.

Have you ever thrown popcorn at someone and then pretended it wasn't you?
No. But I was with a group that was almost thrown out of an East Side Mario's for throwing peanuts.

Have you ever flown first class?
Nope. But I have flown WestJet.

Would you rather surf in California or ski in Vermont?
Hmm. Well, I know I'd rather ski in California than surf in Vermont....

What is one topping you MUST have on your pizza?
Cheese. Meat. Vegetable.

Do you prefer to read fiction or non-fiction books?
Non-fiction. I'm a little obsessed with biographies. Although an excellent novel is priceless.

Would you rather read books or magazines?
Both serve unique purposes. But books.

Have you ever seen a shooting star?
I have. My first was in PEI. All I remember is sitting in a lawn chair, staring at the sky.

Have you ever had your cheek pinched by a relative?
Probably. Most likely by a tiny relative grabbing at my face indiscriminately.

Have you ever torn your pants in public?
I can't remember. I do remember ripping a huge hole in my shirt hopping the school fence.

Do you know how a bill is passed in Congress?
Vaguely. I'm more familiar with Canadian law. You know, I'm hip to the Parliament/House of Commons scene. Sort of. Not at all.

Do you know the difference between a conjunction and an adjective?
Yes. Grammar is my life.

How many times a day do you brush your teeth?
Two to three.

Do you chew on ice?
Maybe. Only when there's some left at the bottom of the glass and I'm bored. I don't actually seek out ice just to chew on it.

Do you watch TV or read before bedtime?
I watch TV in the evening, then read in bed.

Are you allergic to anything?
Not that I know of. Although I used to lie and say I was allergic to turnip. But when you're 7, no matter how passionately you tell your parents this, they never believe you.

How many times a week do you wash your hair?
Usually seven. I think the record is 9 or 10. But that was a crazy week.

Do you own any plaid pants?
No. But that is a brilliant idea. I should re-embrace my seventh-grade wardrobe. (The standout was the navy sweatshirt with the appliqued plaid heart on it that matched my flannel pants.)

Have you ever been in a natural disaster (flood, hurricane, etc.)?
Not quite. I've watched a lot of movies, though.... Yeah, I'd get back together with Bill Paxton, too, if we survived the worst tornado EVER together. Seriously, I would.

Have you ever had food SO bad in a restaurant that you sent it back?
Nope. Although I pretended my impossibly hard dinner roll was a drumstick and rhythmically banged it on the table for a bit. Highly amusing. And I left a restaurant recently when I was unimpressed with the menu.

Have you ever touched a live chicken?
Yep.

What about a live turkey?
Nope. But I've stuffed a dead one.

Do you sleep in pajamas?
Yes. Or some combination of old comfy clothes that I now call pajamas. Oh, and a shirt that was banned from the University of Guelph. Illegal p.j.'s rock.

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees?
On a good day.

Did you just try it?
No. Sheesh.

What is the opposite of a hamburger?
A black hole.

Do you talk in your sleep?
I don't know. I live alone.

Have you ever played in the rain?
Yes. But I have yet to sing in the rain. Or kiss an upside-down Spider-Man in a downpour.

Have you ever had a Mexican jumping bean?
No. But I've had tacos. And jelly beans. Separately.

If you didn't have any bread, what would you use to spread butter on bread?
I don't understand. There is no bread, people. Get over it.

Have you ever swallowed your gum?
Yes. If I die before my 98th birthday, blame it on the small lump of aspartame in my stomach.

Have you ever been ice fishing?
No. I haven't spent much time with folks who fish. Yet.

Where is the most inappropriate place your cell phone has rang?
Church. Although I did get a text while I was out for dinner with a rather spectacular someone. It said, "Go get him, girl." And believe me, I tried.

Have you ever called 911 by accident?
No. I've called 411 on purpose, though.

Have you ever gone whitewater rafting?
No. I've been down the Lazy River at a water park. Does that count? I also canoed over a couple rapids once. I think.

Have you ever faked sick?
I've exaggerated mild symptoms :) I was a drama major. I can be Ferris Bueller if I need to be.

Can you do a flip on a trampoline?
Maybe back in the day. ("In the day" = "Are you kidding me?!")

Have you ever surfed?
...the World Wide Web! I'm so cool.

Have you ever fallen off a horse?
No. But I've been on one. And I've been told to "get back on the horse" and to "hold my horses" and to stop "horsing around" and to "never look a gift horse in the mouth"....

Have you ever had anyone tell you that your fly was open?
Oh, probably. Clearly, I got over it.

Have you ever successfully pogoed on a pogo stick?
Define "successfully." I am not dead. Or broken. That equals success.

Do you eat breakfast?
Every single day. I'm addicted.

Would you rather shave your head or stop talking for a year?
Bald is beautiful. Silence is deadly.

Have you ever sleepwalked?
I don't think so.

Can you flip your eyelids up?
Not without surgical intervention.

Are you double-jointed?
No. But I have multiple joints.

Have you ever gotten gum stuck in your hair?
Yes.

Have you ever thrown up after a roller-coaster ride?
No. But I threw up after a Ferris wheel ride. (It happened to be immediately after a ride on the Scrambler, which came immediately after the Gravitron, which happened to be the first ride after my dinner of hot dogs.)

Have you ever eaten a dog biscuit?
No. Sheesh. That's like asking a dog if he's eaten human food. Oh, wait....

Can you pick things up with your toes?
Define "things." Because I can pick up a sock that's lying on the ground, but I can't pick up a contact lens.

Did you just try to do it?
No, I'm just super-smart and can figure this stuff out in my head.

How many foreign countries have you visited?
Is the United States of America foreign? Someone, please take me away.

Would you rather clean the bathroom or the kitchen?
Whose bathroom? Whose kitchen? I just cleaned my bathroom. So I suppose I should say kitchen to be fair.

Have you ever jammed a puzzle piece into a puzzle to "make it fit"?
Not on your life. I play by rules, folks. And each piece has a very special place.

Would you blow your nose at the dinner table?
Depends on who I'm eating with, I suppose.

Have you ever slipped in the bathtub?
I don't think so. I have slipped on a banana peel, though. Which was amazing. Cartoons are based on my life.

Have you ever locked yourself out of your house?
Yes. And then broke into my house by climbing through my brother's bedroom window.

Have you ever made a semi truck honk?
New Years Day. Mid-late '90s. I stood alongside the highway, in my pajamas, in the snow, and made trucks honk at me. I had the world's most fascinating adolescence.

Would you prefer to go through life with a huge nose or crossed eyes?
How huge? How crossed? A classmate of mine in the second grade asked me why my nose was bigger than everyone else's. I didn't have a very eloquent answer. I should have said, "All the better to smell you with, my dear."

Would you rather jump into a dumpster or a vat of honey?
Dumpster. Seriously, folks, you could DROWN in honey. All you need is a shower and you've recovered nicely from dumpster-diving. And then hop over to the vat of honey with a plate of warm toast and you're good to go.

What is your favorite breed of dog?
Cartoon. (Snoopy. Clifford. Lady. And the Tramp.)

Have you ever licked the tip of a ballpoint pen?
No. Have you?!

Have you ever eaten frog legs?
Nope. I'll save that experience for France.
P.S. Anyone wanna go to France to eat frog legs?

Your absolute favorite shirt is dirty. Would you still wear it?
I have nothing against wearing non-favorite shirts. And maybe. Is it borderline wearable or beyond the point of no return?

Have you ever put your tongue on a frozen pole?
No. I learn from the mistakes of others.

Have you ever blown bubbles in your milk?
Yes.

What did you call your baby blanket?
I don't believe I called it anything. I was a baby.

Have you ever worn bell-bottoms?
Most certainly. I had shiny silver ones. I was the coolest ever. But nothing beat the silver platform shoes with foam soles and Velcro straps.

Guys: Have you ever been in the ladies' room?
Girls: Have you ever been in the men's room?
Yes. Because there's never a line for the men's room. Sure, it might be a little sketchy in there (Do you men not take Aiming 101?), but I'd take immediacy over cleanliness most days.

Have you ever smelled your own feet?
Yeah. One of those "Shoot. Do my feet smell? Will HE smell them? Should I go with socks and shoes instead of sandals?" moments.

Did you just smell them?
No.

Have you ever broken a mirror?
Yes. On purpose, even.

Have you ever fallen asleep during a movie in the theater?
Yes. It was a Bourne movie, shamefully.

Have you ever bathed a dog?
No. Now ask me if I've ever had a dog to bathe.

Have you ever used a slingshot?
Probably. And probably quite poorly.

Have you ever gotten something stuck up your nose?
No. Man, I need better stories.

Have you ever sucked your thumb?
I cut my thumb and sucked on it to stop the bleeding. That counts, people.

Can you read while traveling without getting sick?
What kind of traveling? What kind of reading? Don't cram me in the back of a vehicle with no air circulation and expect me to read the classics in super-tiny print. But the front seat? Or on a plane? Pass the Coupland.

Five Thoughts

1. If I put makeup on at 6:30 am, I wash it off and reapply before going anywhere in the evening. I'm pretty sure Revlon isn't designed for an 18-hour day. Plus, washing my face plays tricks with my brain. I forget that I'm tired and think that I'm about to start my day all over again.
2. Greg Brady creeps me out. You have no idea. I think it's the fact that he once dated his TV mom. Or that he's just plain creepy.
   
3. Today I met someone and thought, "Wow, he looks like a good-looking Lyle Lovett." Is this even possible?**
   
4. The Bible + new friends + homemade chocolate cream puffs = a pretty great Tuesday evening.
5. I was a vegetarian today. Accidentally. Somebody, kill me a chicken.

**I've since changed my mind. He looks like Chris Isaak.

Band From TV

Today's guilty pleasure: Band From TV.

At the 2-minute mark, my TV boyfriend, Zac Levi (you know him as Chuck) rocks out.

And yes, the lead singer is Bob Guiney from The Bachelor. Random.

Band From TV is:
Greg Grunberg (Heroes) - Drums
James Denton (Desperate Housewives) - Guitar
Bonnie Somerville (Cashmere Mafia) - Vocals
Bob Guiney (The Bachelor) - Vocals
Hugh Laurie (House) - Keyboard
Teri Hatcher (Desperate Housewives) - Vocals
Jesse Spencer (Desperate Housewives) - Fiddle

Special guest Adrian Pasdar (Heroes) on bass guitar.

Jorge Garcia (Lost's Hurley) recently sang with them too. And Hayden Panettiere often shakes her annoying booty on-stage with her Heroes costars. If I were on TV, I'd join. Except that I'd have to kick Hugh Laurie off the keyboards. And I don't think I want to do that. Hmm. I've heard Teri Hatcher sing. I'll take her place instead.