Short Stories

Random string of thoughts for your reading (or skimming) pleasure.

Umbrella

Once upon a time, there was a girl with an umbrella problem. She tried desperately to be faithful to her umbrellas, but time and time again, her umbrellas would fail her. They would break; they would disappear. Determined to not be the source of discord in her relationships with umbrellas, when she met one she liked recently, she committed herself immediately to a one-year live-in experience with it. Apparently, the umbrella was overwhelmed by such an arrangement, and after a few short months, unraveled. If ever she experiences a one-year anniversary with an umbrella, she will invite her friends over to celebrate, with a particularly sentimental song being serenaded by a Mr. Gene Kelly in the background.

When it rains…

The Subway

On my way to church on Sunday, a guy on the subway started talking to me. I take that back. He started talking at me. He wouldn’t stop. It was obvious that the rambling was going to end with him asking me out, but I had a suspicion he might run out of air first. A very truncated version:

Him: Hello. Quite the day, huh? It just keeps raining. At least you have an umbrella. You’ll all over that. Not a problem, huh? But it’s a good weekend. My name’s Malcolm, by the way. What’s yours? (I mutter the truth. I can’t lie on the spot). That's such a pretty name. It really is. What did you do this weekend? Anything special? (I believe I utter a “Not really.”) Oh, that’s too bad. You really should. So….

At this point, I see my brother waiting for me. We go to church together most Sundays. I wave a little too enthusiastically and Malcolm is gone. I mean, utterly and completely out of my life forever. He didn’t know if I was single when he started (good assumption though), nor did he know who Joel was (bad assumption there), but I guess the presence of another guy was enough to drive him away.

Boyfriends

1. Why do only strangers flirt with me? I tend to get asked out solely by men who don’t know me. In fact, a semi-friend once said to me (while stroking my perm in a bar, but let’s not go there) that if he didn’t know me, he’d ask me out. Clearly, I must be greatly lacking in the personality department.
2. In high school, around Valentine’s Day, candygrams were all the rage. And every year, I got nadda. In my senior year, the selected candy was Smarties (also my personal drug of choice). I was sent a candygram. It was from Christian Bale. Fake boyfriends rock.

Baleheads

Yeah, they exist. My friends discovered them online when we were Googling Christian Bale back in the day. I’ve spent many a sleepover singing along to Newsies, swooning over Little Women and tapping my feet to Swing Kids. He is the reason for my nine-year range (It’s really a one-way only thing. I’m not into 14 year olds).

The Prestige

Finally, it’s decent-movie time at the theatres. After loving The Departed last week, I was pleasantly entertained by The Prestige this weekend. I happen to be a pretty big Christopher Nolan fan (and we all know how I feel about Mr. Bale), and while the film reached nowhere near the genius of Memento, it had plenty of twists and turns to keep me captivated. Some thoughts (without giving away any of the plot):

• Christian Bale was brilliant. And complex. It was nice to see real within-the-character conflict without any forced tears or that constipated look that actors tend to give when they want us to see their inner pain.
• Scarlett Johansson is fading into her own hype. She went from dynamic actress to sultry, pouty, corseted wallpaper. Piper Perabo was far better (and prettier).
• Sometimes, filmmakers don’t give an audience enough credit. Some things (including a major plot twist) were explained to death. We get it. I got it twenty minutes before they told me what to get.
• The British actress (Rebecca Hall) rocked. All the other women were Americans with accent coaches.
• Go see it. It’s fun. And it has the whole Nolan-screwing-with-time-while-screwing-with-your-mind element you love. Or should love if you don’t.

Miscellaneous

I made chicken parmesan and an oven omelet this weekend. My new calling is housewife (I believe the ladies on SNL would call it “a stay-at-home non-mom”). I just need a husband and a house.

Enjoy your Tuesday.

The Joy of the Sick Day

Since I spent the past week in various states of illness, I didn’t bother to blog. I barely bothered to breathe, in fact, as it was such an effort. For those who care, I am now happily almost-healthy and quite easily made it through a 10-hour workday today.

I approached this past grossness of being a little differently than I would under normal-Nadine circumstances. I decided to stop needing to be in control and all organized and put together and just accept a temporary life of congestion and weariness. I rented movies. I went to the grocery store in *gasp* sweats and no makeup. I schlepped around my apartment and didn’t even consider cleaning the bathroom (my weekly weekend ritual). And so, despite the fact that I had to cancel an afternoon with Meredith (I’ll make it up, I promise), and that Schindler’s List was possessed and kept skipping huge scenes (Blockbuster will make it up to me, I’ll make sure of it), I managed to appreciate my time being out of commission.

The heat is on in my apartment. By “heat” I mean “sauna.” I actually woke up in the middle of the night with sweaty kneepits (the area behind the knee. I guess it would be “legpits” if you want to be all technical). The temperate situation is strange here. It’s flannel in the summer, tank tops in the winter. Because of the sweltering conditions, I made myself leave yesterday. Still slightly stuffed and out of it, I made it to church (which was a little stranger than usual: the pastor just read the first three chapters of Ephesians. No commentary whatsoever), and then headed to the movies with Joel.

Okay, people. Go see The Departed. It’s the best drama of the year so far. Seriously. And if you hate Leonardo DiCaprio (as most guys do, which is clearly a sign of massive insecurity), you’ll be blown away by how brilliant he can actually be. He and Scorsese make a pretty phenomenal team (see Gangs of New York, The Aviator), and this film is their best pairing yet. The pacing and storytelling was the best I’ve seen in a long time. It’s a long movie that never once felt long. The acting was pitch-perfect: Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, Alec Baldwin, Martin Sheen, Jack Nicholson. Man, I would have paid to work on that set. So unless you have a hard time with language or gun violence, go. It’s worth your money. And you probably have more money than me. So your money is worth less than mine.

That is all. I’m reading The Notebook to balance out the organized-crime exposure. The movie is better. That doesn’t happen often.

Seacrest out.

In Sickness and In Health

Of all days, today had to be the crazy we’re-all-gonna-die day on the Danforth line.

I went to bed at 8pm last night. You’d think such a move would allow me to wake up refreshed. No such luck. Instead, I slept in 45-minute segments, tossing and turning and reaching for the Kleenex box all night long.

I spent the day barely breathing, sneezing often. Work was crazy/busy. Did I mention I couldn’t breathe?

I left after 9 hours. The weatherman (with whom I have a love/hate relationship) warned me earlier that it’s going to rain every day this week after today, so despite my congestion, I headed to the grocery store.

It took me two hours longer than usual to get to Food Basics (cheese is cheap this week and nothing was going to stop me). Apparently, someone left a briefcase on the platform of the Donlands station (my station). Of course, all briefcases are packed with explosives, and so five stations were shut down (two on either side of it), choppers flew overhead, and shuttle buses tries to shuffle 7000 commuters through Greektown. Yeah, it sucked.

By the time I got to the grocery store, it was dark and cold and the food was all picked over. I bought too much for my weak little arms to slug all the way home (I’m sick, remember?), but I pretended to be a trooper and managed to not make too many faces as the bags cut into my hands.

I know this sounds whiny. And I hate sounding whiny. And I really did have a pretty great weekend. I just didn’t sleep much, and now I’m suffering the consequences of the lack of zzz’s.

So here’s what I’m thankful for (in no order and by no means conclusive):

• Fresh produce in my fridge
• An awesome family (immediate and extended)
• Hayrides
• Pumpkin pie
• Stephanie letting me sleep on her floor (the basement is evil)
• Dinner at the adult table (finally!)
• A full workday
• Slippers and hot tea
• Sunshine at an outdoor wedding
• My scarf and gloves at an outdoor wedding
• Late-night conversations when I should be sleeping
• Walks in the woods with my grandparents
• Discounted Lego
• Decongestant

I’m off to bed now. If I can sleep. I’m also thankful for my bed. And my Bible. And Jesus. And I happen to be very thankful for that time at the end of the day that I spend sitting in bed, reading my Bible and talking to Jesus. It’s a pretty great combo. I suggest you all try it.

Doodlebops

Check this out. I almost worked on this show. Okay, maybe not almost. I had an interview about a year and a half ago for a position I was completely unqualified for. It was just a little CBC kids show then, but has since hit the bigtime (I'm talking Today Show concert, people). And since John Mayer is my sensitive-singer/songwriter crush, I find this quite amusing.

If only I knew how to troubleshoot their website. And had a car. I could have been part of that...

Lost in Africa

I was going to post about the random pop-culture knowledge I've acquired in the past week or so and the continued adventures in eyeglass-purchasing and better-job hunting, but it all seems so trivial now.

My friend Graydon is in Tanzania, starting a ministry at its university's campus. He's an adventurous guy, a Croc Hunter in training really (the accent is his party trick).

He and one of his teammates went missing in the jungle for two days.

Read about it. His story is way cooler than any of mine.

I want to join the flying circus...

I think I have a crush on John Cleese. The highlight of my workday was Cleese, as a drunk director, talking about a movie he was making:

This film is basically pro-humanity and anti-bad things. And it rips aside the hypocritical façade of our society's gin and tonic and leaves a lot of sacred cows rolling around in agony.

That is all. For now.

Time for a Story

It’s Sunday and it’s not raining. And I love walking. Church is over, and I decide to walk home.

This guy starts walking toward me. He yells something out, either, “I like you stay here,” or “I like your straight hair.” Either way, I’m not exactly swept off my feet. I keep walking.

He gets closer. I walk faster. Then he pulls out four shiny watches. Yes, folks. Those “Wanna buy a watch?” people exist, and they’re after me. I guess he was checking out my bare wrists or something.

Since I couldn’t really understand a single thing he said, I just smiled, shook my head and kept walking. All the way home.

That is my story. The end.

TIFF summary

Thanks to the all-weekend partying of the guy in the apartment behind mine, I’m afraid I’m too tired to write a very cohesive summary of the Sleeping Dogs premiere. Hopefully point form will be easier to understand.

• I’m an “assistant art director,” folks, not a production assistant. This is a very big deal. I can ask for more money next time :)
• My big-screen debut has me picking at cheesecake in the background of a restaurant scene.
• The movie was worthy of being proud of.
• My vomit scene was cut (I made the vomit, I didn’t do the vomiting). The vomit residue, however, was there throughout the film.
• I am now the proud owner of a Sleeping Dogs trucker hat and soundtrack. I could get used to this thing called “swag.”
• None of the creepy crew who want to date me made it to the after-party. Which meant that I actually enjoyed myself. Until it rained (I was on the patio).
• I think I’m officially addicted to moviemaking. I have to do it again.

For those in the KW area, it should be premiering at the Princess Cinema in early October. I’ll keep you posted on details.

I'm off to bed. As long as the guy on the other side of the wall doesn't decide to break out the dance tunes with his buddies (like Friday night). Or the guitar serenades for his girlfriend (last night). Sheesh. Why can't we all have no lives and sleep at night?

The Circle of Life

A side note before I begin: My roommate in first year university and I had an ongoing argument about who was better, Elton John or Phil Collins. It all came down to The Lion King vs. Tarzan. Elton John is the right answer.

Second side note: Brad Pitt does not eat in the food court and Jude Law does not shop at Sears. No celeb sightings for me yet.

Back on track.

I bought glasses today. Again. This time, I went to the Bay. They don’t let you return your glasses. I figured that this was better for me. I don’t know if it’s the frustration with work or what, but lately I’ve found myself wound just a little too tight. I over-think, over-plan, second-guess and put far too much importance on inconsequential things. So I bit the bullet and bought a pair. I will wear them. They don’t look weird on me and I don’t look like I’m trying to be too hip or too geeky or too futuristic or too ancient. The frames also happened to be 50% off, allowing me to buy a brand I normally couldn’t afford to even try on. I’m one of those people who tend to be anti-brand, mostly out of budgetary necessity. I did manage to stay away from Gucci and Prada though (if the devil wears it, it probably won’t look good on me).

I was paying for my eyes (the lady put them as a rush order after she learned that I wanted to wear them to a movie premiere) when I heard an all-too-familiar voice next to me. The guy (I was going to call him a man, but I just can’t do it) who sold me my first pair of glasses at Lenscrafters (after walking away from me, insulting my budget and disagreeing with my choices) was applying for a job.

I’m trying to be more thankful. Today I was thankful that I bought glasses before the Bay hired a new salesman.

Quite the Spectacle

Sometimes, you just need a mom.

I went to the eye doctor’s today. I was slightly concerned that she would tell me I was slowly going blind considering I stare at a computer all day. Instead, she said my eyes felt strained at the end of the day because my glasses were too strong! Yes, folks, my magical eyeballs are improving. Very happy news.

Lenscrafters is next doors to the optometrist’s. No coincidence there. The sales people were eager and absolutely not helpful. I decided on a pair I thought were quasi-hip (not quite Lisa Loeb, but certainly worthy of a guitar or paintbrush). The salesperson said they looked great, I paid way too much, and then walked around the mall for an hour as they got them ready.

For some reason, I started to feel very unsettled. As I wandered through stores aimlessly, I could no longer remember what my new glasses looked like. All I could picture was Harry Potter (I was wearing a striped scarf today; that must have been the influence).

Sure enough, when I got back to Lenscrafters, something just wasn’t right. I tried them on and the arms (is that what they’re called?) seemed to jut out from my head. There was a massive gap between the arms and my scalp, as if my head had shrink significantly in the hour I was away. Then I did what every girl buying glasses must do: I put my hair up. The glasses barely hooked around my ears; the arms’ width forced my ears to pull a Will Smith.

The lady fitting me kept encouraging me, reminding me of their 30-day satisfaction guarantee. I was about to take her advice and take them home to try them out, when inspiration hit me. I leaned in toward her, and looked her straight in the eye:

“Do these glasses really fit me? Pretend you’re my mom.”

Asking someone to represent your mother puts a lot of responsibility on their shoulders. She could no longer be a smiley salesperson. She had to be honest.

“Not really. They’re too big.”

Who needs a 30-day guarantee? I returned them immediately and headed home. I still need glasses, but now I’ve decided that I want them to fit me.

Moonlighting, the Movie and Men.

Moonlighting

David: I remember when they told Sylvia Plath, "Hey, Syl, cheer up!" I remember when they told e. e. cummings, "e, baby; use caps!" But did ol' e listen? No. Little n. Little o.

One of the advantages to subtitling for a living is getting an exposure to shows and films I wouldn’t normally see. Of course, this can also be the downside (a tip for you all: Never see Little Man). And while it’s a pain to title because they speak about 30,000 words a second, I’ve become quite the fan of Moonlighting. There’s something about the rapid banter that slays me. Yes, slays me. So when I heard that FOX was promoting a new show of a similar nature, I made a point to watch it. Big mistake.

Standoff is not Moonlighting. There is no banter. There is no wit. There is no overlapping dialogue. There is no Cybill Shepherd. There is no rhyming assistant. And worst of all, there is no URST. The whole chemistry thing is usually do to Unresolved Sexual Tension. If your first episode reveals that partners are sleeping together, the shark is jumped. It’s over. No tension. I don’t care. And did I mention it’s not witty?

Multiple thumbs down.

The Movie

I stood in line for over an hour today. Outside. In partial rain. It was the first day of ticket sales for the Toronto Film Fest and I didn’t want to miss out on the movie I worked on. Not that it’s necessarily going to be the first film to sell out (I mean, come on, Brad Pitt’s coming to TO), but I’d rather be safe. I bought one lonely ticket. I figure that if anyone wants to come, they can pick up their own. I can’t risk the financial loss if my indecisive friends back out.

If you’re coming, let me know. This leads to my next thought…

Men

No, I’m not going to lament the single life in the city. I usually enjoy it. Here’s the issue: There’s going to be a party after the premiere. I’m dateless. This typically wouldn’t be an issue, but considering that the associate producer, sound guy, 1^st AD, and one of the lead actors all asked me out on the shoot, I’m really not looking forward to venturing alone into their company. It’s just so weird. It was clearly a process of elimination for these gentlemen. I was the only non-lesbian under 40 working on the film. I’ve got a female friend from college who’s volunteered to come with me, which is great, but I wish I didn’t have to even worry about such things. There should be some database available of really great guys who are willing to be stand-in boyfriends for nice Christian girls who just want to avoid the advances of slightly creepy men. Is it dishonest to keep looking at my watch, mentioning that I’m waiting for my husband? It’s kind of true…

Half Nelson.

All of a sudden--for no good reason, really, except that I was sort of in the mood for horsing around--I felt like jumping off the washbowl and getting old Stradlater in a half nelson. That's a wrestling hold, in case you don't know, where you get the other guy around the neck and choke him to death, if you feel like it. So I did it.

Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger

I’m reading Catcher in the Rye right now. I found it quite amusing that it described a half nelson for me…

I left work early today. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I was the only subtitle editor left in the office by 3:30 (only three of us had work anyway), and the tediousness of having nothing to do was getting on my nerves. So I went to the movies.

Half Nelson.

The movie’s not a particularly entertaining one. It’s a little slow. The plot is pretty simple and subtle.

The acting was brilliant. If I were the type to throw in profanity before my adjectives for emphasis, I would have added something before “brilliant.” But since I don’t, I’ll add “very.” The acting was very brilliant. As was the character development.

It was a pretty intimidating experience actually, watching perfectly written characters with their fully developed lives. With so little happening at times (if you call nothing being a grade-8 teacher doing drugs in the girls’ change room), it felt like I was just observing real people living lives so obviously destined for (if no intervention) self-destruction.

Thumbs up if you’re into the indie-movie scene. And Ryan Gosling completely deserves an Oscar.

Maybe I should go write something. Or start acting again. I had to light a cigarette once for a play. Apparently, my first try was pretty pathetic.

I feel as though sitcom writing just doesn’t measure up after that…

I Have Teeth. But No Style. Yet.

I went to the dentist today. This is a slightly (or very) big deal, as I now have benefits at work and am no longer showing up as my father's dependent. The last time I went to the dentist, the paperwork that got filed listed me as my father's common law wife. Too weird and disturbing.

Apparently my Diet Coke habit has yet to erode my teeth (I specifically brought this up). No cavities for me, yet again. The dentist's assistant took me aside when the dentist left the room and explained to me that I am going to get cancer from the aspartame. She was so serious. I was trying so hard not to laugh. She said she couldn't explain why, but it would happen. I drink a lot of water and tea, too. She made it sound like I snort, inject, and binge on aspartame.

I also went to the mall. I tried stuff on. Some of it fit. I bought nothing. I'm trying to decide if I should look all hip and chic for the film festival (tickets go on sale on the 6th - Sleeping Dogs plays Thursday the 14th, and Saturday the 16th - let me know if you're coming), or I should look broke and desperately in need of work. Maybe I should dress up like a sleeping dog. Or like Cate Blanchett or Reese Witherspoon and sneak into one of their parties.

That was my day. Work was slow. I worked on Smallville today. I'll admit it's a pretty decent little teen drama. I actually like Tom Welling better than Brandon Routh. More interesting.

A Story For Your Monday Evening

I would like to tell you all a story. So gather ‘round, children.

Once upon a time (three years ago or so), I was spending my afternoon in the Christian clubs’ office at the University of Guelph. Did I have class? Probably, but the disintegrating couches were much more appealing, and I didn’t have much energy to walk across campus to wherever else I was supposed to be. But I digress.

My dear friend Adam (who just got engaged – congrats!) came in, eager to share some news. This was our conversation as I recall it:

Adam: You’ll never guess who came into Starbucks the other day.
Me: The blond guy from Breaker High.

I have never seen such a face of disbelief in my entire life. As some know (and others many eventually find out), I have a great guessing ability. And I guess with confidence. So if I’m playing a trivia game with you, and I correctly answer the most obscure question you’ve ever heard, it was probably a guess disguised as knowledge.

Back to Adam. I was right. Ryan Gosling (then only of Breaker High and Young Hercules fame) had ordered coffee at the Burlington Starbucks he worked at. And I was quite proud of my guess. I did rob him of his story, though. There was no big reveal. Perhaps I should have guessed Chuck Norris instead.

My last post (and the subsequent comments) inspired this little tale. I hope you all enjoyed it. And for those of you who don’t know, Gosling was in the Mickey Mouse Club along with Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and Christina Aguilera. He’s come a long way…

Saturday. Not much to show for it.

“Welcome, shepherds, and thank you for shopping at seller.”

That’s what I thought she said. Apparently, it was:

“Welcome, shoppers, and thank you for shopping at Zellers.”

I walked to Zellers today, hoping to buy storage solutions that are apparently only available at Ikea. This particular shopping centre happens to be the cheapest, brand-less and sketchiest I’ve been to in a while. All clothing was polyester, the food court was no-name grease, and the bulk food was over-priced. Hardly a successful trip, but it got me out of my apartment.

Other updates/thoughts:

• I know Swiffers are contributing to the trash problems in our world, but I bought one today. My new toy. I love it.
• I hate meeting people through email. I feel like I’m writing a cover letter instead of just saying hello.
• If you wear the wrong shade of lipstick, your teeth can appear quite yellow. Be warned.
• I need to see Half Nelson. Ryan Gosling is the new Christian Bale.
• I applied for a job. I had an interview. Then they got rid of the position.
• By the way, I totally called the Benji win on So You Think You Can Dance?
• Pluto is no longer a planet. Grade school teachers everywhere are desperately trying to write catchy new solar-system jingles.
• Peter’s Friends is a pretty great little British movie. You can only see it on VHS. And I love Hugh Laurie. And Kenneth Branagh. And Emma Thompson. It’s full of that depressing humor I can relate to all too well:
• “It's like kindergarten, school, university, black hole.”
• Boys in cars with loud stereos will holler at you if you have blonde hair. They drive right past if you have auburn hair. Girls, in an effort to make our roads safer (and quieter), let’s all ditch the blonde.
• I sliced my hand open on a broken glass while washing the dishes. Being domestic is dangerous.

S.O.A.P.

Since work is still sparse, I left early yesterday to catch Snakes on a Plane with my brother and a co-worker. I figured it would be a better use of my time than checking my email. Again. Seriously, Gmail should give me an award for being eagerly pathetic and ridiculously dedicated to their service.

Here’s the lowdown, folks. I know you want to know.

It sucked. And because it lived up to my expectations, I must give my two thumbs up (since Ebert’s still in recovery and can’t do it for me). It’s been a while since a film delivered what it promised. I appreciate that.

It’s a little vulgar, it’s a little gory, the snakes are fake, and Sam Jackson even dumbed down his acting as if trying to nab that Razzie nomination. Questions are left unanswered (How did the snakes get on the plane?) and Playstation is the real hero of the story.

I found a cheap theatre that only charged me $4.24 for my ticket. That’s cheaper than renting it. And if you don’t see it in theatres, don’t bother ever seeing it. The whole point is the group experience – the laughter, the cheering, and the “Why did he do that?” from the "way too young to see a graphic snake attack during an initiation into the Mile-High Club" kid behind you. Apparently in the States, some teens let loose a couple rattlesnakes in the theatre during a showing. Sometimes I want to be a parent just to show people how it’s done.

Should you go see it? Only if you have either cash or time to waste (time was my waster. I never have cash). And you have no pride. Oscar season is coming…

Wanted

It was one of those "how can I drag my work out to fill 8 hours?" days at work today. Sometime around 2, I realized I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast at 7. With no work to peel myself away from, I headed to Pizza Pizza for a salad (yes, I order salads at pizza places).

On my way back to work (work = checking my email. Again), I saw a "wanted" poster tacked onto a pole. I don't usually spend much time hydro-pole reading, but this one caught my eye. Maybe it was the words "dangerous" or "one-handed." And the picture looked very familiar. Too familiar. I've seen him. Maybe I know him.

Five second later, it hits me that this is a promotion for Prison Break, and I'm staring at some actor's headshot.

Hmm. The advertising strategy worked. I hate that.

August 17th

I love Kendall Payne. And she happens to have a song about being 23. And I happen to be 23. Funny how these things happen...

Twenty Three

Twenty three when did we become grown?
I never noticed the seeds of the cynic being sown.
Will we starve will the harvest time reap
Freedom or chains hope or disdain for the weak?
Twenty three when did we become safe?
We pray to feel pleasure and hate when we have to feel pain

Let me see your burn let me see your bruise
You look just like me
Let me see where you’re broken in two.

We pretend when we find the end of ourselves
Afraid to be real so we say that we’re somebody else
Little ones teach the big to be free
Children are only un-costumed humanity

While we wait here in the dark love lends a spark
But we can’t decide
‘Cause coming back to life is harder than hell
Once you have died

Finally I can see with your eyes
That everyone angry is only just aching inside
Twenty-three when the sun sets tonight
There’s always a reason we just cannot leave it behind

Last Choice Hairbotchers

A girl at work got a great haircut from First Choice Haircutters. Not one to pass up on a good deal, I decided to give it a try. I mean, a cut for less than $15 in Toronto? Who wouldn’t love that?

I wouldn’t. I brought five pictures with me, all of them with slightly-layered chin-length bobs. Very chic. A little British, even.

I should have run when I asked the stylist if she had a washroom I could use and she thought I was asking her to wash my hair. If that wasn’t a bright enough red flag, perhaps the fact that she didn’t understand that I wanted my hair to look like the photos I brought should have had me out of there. Unfortunately, I do not easily run.

So my hair is too long, and the layers have that choppy “Look, Ma, I cut my own hair” look, and yet are still too few. My thick hair now hangs like a triangle off my head. She didn’t take shape or texture into consideration. In fact, I had to suggest that she part my hair in the middle so that the strands on both sides of my head could be even. This didn’t help much, but she did it. And she kept asking me what she should do. “Should I layer it here? Is this where you want the layers?” I DON’T KNOW! I want the picture. If I knew how to do it, I would.

I’m not sure if I look like a soccer mom or the kid being dragged to soccer practice. Yes, I’m either 35 or 10.

Sheesh. I am not built for vanity, clearly.

"The bag made me do it."

I went to the library after work today. I’m a big library fan. I blame this on my father. If you see me wandering through the stacks, it’s not because I’m lost. I worked at a library when I was in high school; I am well-acquainted with Dewey Decimal. I just happen to believe that I should give each book an equal opportunity to be read. And so I read about financial planning (I need to stop renting and invest in property of my own), true crime, Pilates, old Hollywood, interior design, and then I top it off with a novel or two (often picked somewhat randomly. Yes, I cover-judge).

The library excursion is not very plot-pertinent to my day, but I mention it because the event made me bring a canvas bag with me. This particular bag is clearly labeled: “Assembly 2004: Evangelical Missionary Church of Canada.” After filling it with a half-dozen books or so, I hopped on the streetcar and headed home.

Fast-forward to the subway. It’s packed. I’ve got an over-sized purse over one shoulder, a massive library bag over the other; I’m standing, trying to stay balanced while I fill out a crappy crossword puzzle (I tell you, you get what you pay for with those free newspapers). Finally, someone gets off so I can sit. I’m a little squished with two bags on my lap, but at least I’m no longer at risk of falling over.

There’s a cute little kid on the subway. Poor guy. He’s clearly tired and overwhelmed by the volume of people. A seat becomes available, and his mom tells him to take it. He runs for it, only to have a woman nearly sit on him. By nearly, I mean that her rear end actually touches his shoulder. She sees/feels the kid (who really is there first) and chooses to sit down anyway. Perhaps her pride won’t allow her to admit she sat on a toddler.

He starts whining. He loudly announces to everyone, “I want to sit down.” The response is the typical “how adorable” laughter, and yet no one moves. This is when I realize that my bag is facing him. The bag that announces, “This young woman identifies herself with the Church, and even more, with Jesus Christ.”

I tap him on the shoulder and offer him my seat. By the response around me, you would have thought that I just offered him my kidney. Nadine the superhero indulges the whiny kid.

I’m glad I gave up my seat. I just wish I didn’t need a bag to make me do it.

An unrelated side note: I seem to have misplaced two pairs of brown socks, two brown headbands, and two blue pens. If you happen to encounter twin thieves, please notify me.

Randomness Vol. 2

As sentences don't seem to be forming very well this evening, I will subject you to brain diarrhea:

1. I had chocolate gelato for dinner tonight. I've been told that a calcium-rich diet is very important for young women. And chocolate is good for the heart.
   
2. Crush of the day: Benji, the cute Mormon kid from So You Think You Can Dance. He's going to win, just watch.
3. I walked for over 2 hours after work today. That is a good thing. I was wearing sandals. Not so good.
4. Doris Roberts' autobiography has a recipe with every chapter. How smart is that? It keeps people opening her book beyond the first read.
5. Work is a little busier again. Not the most interesting stuff, but paychecks are interesting enough to make it worth it.
6. Taste of the Danforth is coming.
7. So is my birthday.
8. I found out that the cute 2-bedroom cottage-like homes in my neighbourhood are selling for half a million dollars. I shall not complain about my rent.
9. Lately, I've become a little obsessed with recipe websites. The next step is to actually make something.
10. I have nothing else to say. I just like the look of a 10-point list.
    

10 Days In My Life

Okay, so I haven’t blogged in a while. I figured that I’d give you a quick rundown of what the last week or so has looked like:

Thursday, July 27

Arrived at work early only to be sent home after 1 ½ hours. Fortunately I had my luggage with me, so I grabbed an early bus to Kitchener.

Friday, July 28

My parents’ anniversary. It’s also the first day of my Stratford weekend. I met my friend Jen in Stratford while taking a three-week course in Shakespearean acting and criticism in 2003. We now meet there every summer; it’s our annual outing. We saw Much Ado About Nothing. Pretty delightful. And then her parents took us out to a pricey restaurant. Nice. Although I’ve decided that white wine with a lemongrass aftertaste is a little gross. Who wants a lemongrass aftertaste? I want a wine that tastes like chicken. Or a Shirley Temple.

Saturday, July 29

Back in Stratford. Saw Coriolanus. I had no idea what it was about going into it. The real reason we went was because a certain actor was in it and we tend to casually stalk him. The play was quite visually stunning, including the onstage burning of a corpse. And Colm Feore was brilliant. Jen headed off to another show (after we spent a few hours at Down the Street-- my favorite bar in the whole entire world-- eating the best garlic fries in the whole entire world). I hope to live in Stratford one day. Picnics every day, I tell you.

Sunday, July 30

Went to church in a movie theatre (The Meeting House - Yorkdale Mall). Seriously. And they showed a clip from Scary Movie 3. Again, seriously. It was pretty cool. My whole family then headed to a surprise birthday party for my aunt and uncle. It was actually a surprise. And my sarong was fine, for those who might care. I think it’s time to retire my skit self. I enjoy acting, but family-written jokes aren’t really my thing. Had Rolo chocolate cones for dinner.

Monday, July 31

Went to work. Nothing special. The schedule was pretty sparse. That Shakespearean actor we stalk? He emailed me. Apparently he never checks his email. So we missed him. Maybe we’ll hang out next year. Crazy man.

Tuesday, August 1

I checked my work schedule at 6am. There was nothing on it. In my half-awake daze, I fired off an email to my boss, bluntly expressing my confusion at the lack of hours (and subsequent inability to pay my rent). My boss emailed me back by 8:15 and promised me that from now on I will have priority with the scheduling. I went in late, and ended up having a full week.

Wednesday, August 2

Went to my cousins’ for dinner with my brother. I think I confused them by explaining that the oldest son in Cheaper by the Dozen is really Superman. And that Dorothy from Wizard of Oz is dead. But Shirley Temple is not.

Thursday, August 3

Did some laundry. Drano’d my bathtub. You know you’re growing up when you actually go to the story to buy Drano.

Friday, August 4

Scrubbed my bathtub now that it’s draining properly. Boy, my life keeps getting more and more fascinating.

Saturday, August 5

Went for a walk to Value Village this morning. It’s farther away than I thought. It took over 45 minutes to get there. And the store was tiny with nothing that fit me. So I went home and watched Legends of the Fall. I had no idea that the kid from E.T. grew up to be Brad Pitt’s brother. I brainstormed some story ideas for a sitcom I’m still trying to develop and quite possibly overdosed on jelly beans in the process.

That is my life. Sleeping Dogs is now on IMDB, but there’s no cast or crew listed yet. There are also the beginnings of an official website.

Twelve days till my birthday…

Money Sucks

"Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons."
- Woody Allen

“I guess you’re glad you’re paid by the hour.”

My boss said this to me yesterday. I still don’t know what he meant. He befuddles me greatly. I was carefully complaining about the lack of work available to the English team, and that was his response. A salary would mean I get paid even when I’m sent home early. Being paid by the hour instills a certain fear in most of us. The fear of not paying the rent. Perhaps it is this fear I should be thankful for?

As if my landlord were psychic, my rent has been raised by just over $15 a month. And Rogers has expired my initial cable and internet discounts. Perfect timing. Just as my paycheques start dwindling, my expenses increase.

To make my day even better, I decided to do laundry. I found a sarong in a box under my bed that I want to wear to a Hawaiian-themed birthday party this weekend. It was all wrinkly and musty. I threw it in the washing machine. And then I threw it in the dryer. Then I noticed that it should be hand-washed and hung to dry. Who wears mini sarongs? Oh, I guess I do now.

An advantage to living alone is that I can’t yell at anyone. There’s no point in crying because there’s no one here to feel sorry for me. I just end up spending my evening talking myself out of my pity party and reminding myself that:

A) God is in control (cue Twila Paris, all you CCM fans from the mid-90s).

B) I never wore that sarong anyways. It’s not like I ruined my jeans.

C) Birds of the air are fed, lilies of the field are pretty, and I will not rot/starve here.

D) Maybe poverty will kick my butt into action and get me writing. For money.

Boredom. Absolute Boredom.

I checked my work schedule from home this weekend. I was supposed to subtitle an entire movie today, so I woke up early and showed up with my caffeine at 8am this morning.

Apparently, when LA assigned the project, they forgot that I can’t work on a movie without the movie. I waited for 4 ½ hours for the media to come in. Yes, 4 ½ hours. You can only check your email so many times. I read news headlines, looked at real estate listings, recipes, entertainment buzz, anything to keep me occupied.

I decided to buy my August Metropass during this wait. Shoppers Drug Mart didn’t have them in yet. Instead, I bought dark-chocolate-covered almonds. They were on sale. I ate the whole bag. Not a good idea. So I ended up bored, still waiting, and feeling slightly nauseous.

When the video finally arrived, LA couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t be able to finish it today. This project, if it arrived on time, would have taken about 10 hours. There was no way I was going to stay until 10pm. So I left at 5, promising that I would have it finished before the end of my shift tomorrow.

At least I have work. Only four of us had work today. And three of them were done in two hours. I had nine (with half spent doing nothing).

What did I learn today?

• Tiger Woods cried.
• The Hamptons has a ridiculous real estate market.
• I don’t have enough money to retire. Or live, for that matter.
• Janet Jackson might want kids. Maybe.
• I eat when I’m bored.
• Old instant coffee is disgusting.

Sleeping Dogs

Early last summer, I spent three weeks as a production assistant (working with the art director mostly) on an independent film, Sleeping Dogs. I had a blast, worked hard, and eventually stopped waiting for its release. The director was sidetracked with another project, and it didn't make it to the Berlin Film Festival in January as planned.

And then today happened.

It will be premiering at the Toronto Film Festival as a Contemporary World Cinema selection!!!!
Needleess to say, I am pumped. So if any of you are in the area in early September, come see my movie with me. I will tell you all about the fake vomit I made, the Vaseline I rubbed into the lead's head, the nurses' board I created, et c. I think I'm also in a scene, eating someone's half-eaten cheesecake at Kelsey's.

My name will finally be in the credits of a movie. I have no more goals. I can retire.

Blogging Killed the Conversation Star

Wendy and I were chatting the other day (yeah!) when we hit a strange little bump in the conversation. I was telling her some charming little story about my mostly non-eventful life, when she responded, “I know. I read it in your blog.” That’s right, folks, the blog is now stripping me of conversation topics. I’m not sure if I should tell less, or lie more. I was actually contemplating starting up a completely fictional blog just for fun.

I am now completely ignoring my don’t-share-any-more-stories advice, and will once again spew random thoughts at you. Brain diarrhea, really.

• Brandon Routh is too good-looking. In fact, he’s so handsome he’s not even attractive. Does that make sense? He’s got that vacant-J.Crew-catalogue kind of beauty that’s just a little too boring for me.
• Is Superman supposed to be Jesus? If he is, there are some major metaphor holes going on in that movie. Okay, the metaphor is just one big hole. I think there are two Sons and two Fathers and no Holy Spirit. And Lois Lane is either Mary (the mother) or Mary (of Magdalene) or just some chick who is way too young and skinny. I’ll go with the third option. Eat something, Kate Bosworth.
• Batman is cooler.
• Toronto is supposed to be hotter tomorrow. I just may have to give up breathing. And moving.
• I finally watched What’s Eating Gilmore Grape? Okay, so that’s a bit of a lie. I missed the beginning, and my grandma called me near the end (so I don’t really know what happened). I can, however, confidently admit that Leonardo was brilliant. As was Johnny.
• My church is not air conditioned. I didn’t notice this until today. Again, if I didn’t need to breathe, it wouldn’t have been a problem.
• “It’s better He hurt me now and heal me later than sugar-coat it now and have me suffer forever.” That’s all I remember from the sermon (re: uncomfortable truths: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.”)
• My head hurts.
• If I can’t afford a house and a cottage, I think I’ll go with the cottage and live there year-round. That’s the plan. Now I just need to afford the cottage.
• French fries are great. I had McDonald’s fries today for the first time in-- and I’m serious here-- probably three years. I have missed them. I should eat them more often. To make sure I don’t end up like Kate Bosworth.
• I saw the pilot episode of So Notorious. Here’s the problem: I don’t buy Tori Spelling as Tori Spelling. I was embarrassed for her. And then I was embarrassed for myself for watching it.

That’s all for now, folks. I’m sure I’ll enlighten you all with deeper thoughts and more thrilling stories later. When I feel like writing fiction or plagiarizing. Oh, and for a great laugh, check out the letter from John Cleese posted on my dad’s blog.

Hasta La Pasta,

Nadine

Surveys Are Stupid

Every once in a while, I fall victim to the myspace survey. Unfortunately, today was one of those days. I'm sorry.

1. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?
Usually closed. It makes me feel all orderly and grown up.

2. Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?
What is this hotel you speak of? And maybe.

3. Have you ever 'done it' in a hotel room?
Depends on your definition of "it." I once called the front desk and asked for a deck of cards. I was also semi-chased by a security guard.

4. Have you ever stolen a street sign before?
No. And if you have, don't tell me.

5. Do you like to use post-it notes?
Yes. It's sad.

6. Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?
Nadine, the Coupon Queen. I had free milk on my cereal this morning, I have free All Bran bars in my cupboard, and I'll be using my free McFlurry coupon later this week, I'm sure.

7. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
Let's go with the bear. Go big or go home.

8.?
Sure?

9. Do you always smile for pictures?
No. Sometimes I cry.

10. What is your biggest pet peeve?
Slow (or inconsistent) walkers in a moving crowd.

11. Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?
The side against the wall is tucked in. My "entry" side is out.

12. Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
Only when I'm playing "What Time Is It, Mr. Wolf?"

13. Have you ever peed in the woods?
Isn't that what the woods are there for? I'm sure I have at some point in my quasi-wilderness experiences.

14. Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?
Sure. It would be depressing if we were all dependent on music.

15. Do you chew your pens and pencils?
No. I'm not a fan of touching saliva. Even my own.

16. How many people have you slept with this week?
I think there were about 20 at the cottage. In separate sleeping bags, but still pretty cozy.

17. Do you like popcorn from those big tins?
Are the big tins free?

18. What is your "Song of the week"?
Well, I heard both an East-Asian version and trumpet-solo version of "My Heart Will Go On" this week. Oh, and "Kiss Me," which I actually quite enjoyed (the song, not the verb-- Not that I wouldn't-- Never mind).

19. Is it okay for guys to wear pink?
It's very European to wear a pink shirt with a pinstriped suit. So if you want to convince me you're sophisticated, boys, that was your fashion advice.

20. Do you still watch cartoons?
At work, all the time.

21. What’s your favorite scary movie?
I like thinking-people scary movies (M. Night Shyamalan).

22. Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?
Under Johnny Depp's house.

23. What do you drink with dinner?
Water.

24. What do you dip a chicken nugget in?
Sweet and Sour Sauce, BBQ, or honey.

25. What is your favorite food/ cuisine?
I like most food. Italian, Mexican, chocolate anything, salads with chicken...

26. What movies could you watch over and over and still love?
Life is Beautiful, It's a Wonderful Life, Singin' In the Rain, Braveheart, Newsies, The Notebook, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Batman Begins, many more....

27. Last person you kissed/kissed you?
I believe my grandma kissed me goodbye two weeks ago.

28. Were you ever a boy/girl scout?
No. I was into the Pioneer Club scene.

30. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?
I think I took a phone message for someone a while ago. And I signed a guest book. Quick, someone send me an address!

31. Can you change the oil on a car?
No. Can I drive a car? Now you understand.

32. Ever gotten a speeding ticket?
No. I don't walk fast enough.

33. Ran out of gas?
Every day around 3pm :)

34. Favorite kind of sandwich?:
Meat, cheese, mayo, tomato, pickle, lettuce, mustard, whole grain bread/pita. The works, essentially.

35. Best thing to eat for breakfast?
For my everyday breakfast, there are two options:
a) Shredded Wheat/ Cheerios, All Bran and Skim Milk
b) Eggs, turkey, tomato, salsa and sour cream. Separate or with cheese as an omelet.


36. What is your usual bedtime?
I aim for 10pm.

37. Are you lazy?
Yes, but I'm motivated by it. Seriously. I will be extra efficient with my time so that I have more time to do nothing.

38. When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?
Bible characters when I was little. I didn't trick or treat until high school: A chef, an old lady.

40. How many languages can you speak?
Well, I know both UK and American spellings of English. And I'm semi-all right with French.

41. Do you have any magazine subscriptions?
InStyle. It's the best one. If you're into style that's in.

42.Which are better Legos or Lincoln logs?
Lego. It's the only one.

43. Are you stubborn?
Only on certain issues. Or on certain days. Or with certain people.

44. Who is better...Leno or Letterman?
Conan-- I mean, Leno. Hands down.

45. Ever watch soap operas?
No. Unless you consider Lost a primetime sci-fi soap.

46. Afraid of heights?
Not as long as I'm strapped in/ holding a railing/ et c.

47. Sing in the car?
Depends on who I'm riding with. But sure.

48. Dance in the shower?
Subtle dancing. No concussions wanted.

49. Dance in the car?
You mean streetcar? Man, this survey makes me want to get my license.

50. Ever used a gun?
Yes. A couple times. Watch out. If you stand still for a long time, and I have a loaded gun, there's a chance I might eventually hit you.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?
High school grad, probably.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?
No, and don't you dare suggest such a thing.

53. Is Christmas stressful?
No. "It's the most wonderful time of the year."

54. Ever eaten a perogie?
Multiple perogies, in fact.

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?
The homemade kind, fresh out of the oven.

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
Actress, fashion designer, bank teller (I thought they had all the money), mommy.

57. Do you believe in ghosts?
No. I believe my legs are as white as a ghost.

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Very rarely.

59. Take a vitamin daily?
Vitamin C, Calcium (with Magnesium and Zinc), and Vitamin D.

60. Wear slippers?
Year round.

61. Wear a bath robe?
Yeppers. I've got a summer one and a winter one.

62. What do you wear to bed?
In the winter? A tank and shorts. In the summer? Flannel. My apartment has ridiculous temperature control.

63. First concert?
Sharon, Lois and Bram. Amy Grant when I was 11.

64. Wal-Mart, Target or K-Mart?
Neither. Target and K-Mart aren't around in Ontario, so I guess Wal-Mart (but don't tell my brother).

65. Nike or Adidas?
Which one's on sale?

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?
No preference. Where there's junk food, there must be a party...

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?
Peanuts.

68. Ever hear of, "gorp"?
Kind of. Some version of trail mix, right? I used to call it "mixed snack."

69. Ever take dance lessons?
No, but I wish I did. I'm a little obsessed with Gene Kelly. I took hip-hop at university, but it was aerobic stuff (I would be thrown out of a club if I tried those moves).

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?
Hopefully one that he, A, loves, and B, gets paid for doing. Unless he was born into money (but isn't a male Paris Hilton).

71. Can you curl your tongue?
No.

72. Ever won a spelling bee?
No. I got "lose" and "loose" confused.

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
Yes.

74. Own any record albums?
No. But my dad owns some Larry (as in Norman). Maybe I'll inherit them.

75. Own a CD player?
Yes. I'm broke but not dead.

76. Regularly burn incense?
No. I'm a candle girl.

77. Ever been in love?
With Jesus.

78. Who would you like to see in concert?
U2. That is all.

79. What was your last concert you saw?
I can't remember. Probably Starfield. No, Steve Bell.

80. Hot tea or cold tea?
Hot.

81. Do you know who Bodom is?
No. Should I? Will he/she be offended?

82. Favorite kind of cookie?
I'm pretty equal opportunity when it comes to cookies.

83. Can you swim well?
Well enough to stay alive. Not well enough to swim the English Channel or anything.

84. Can you hold your breath w/o manually holding your nose?
Yes.

85. Are you patient?
Yes. Quite.

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?
Band. If they're good. I'd rather play a CD than hear a crappy band.

87. Ever won a contest?
Yep.

88. Ever have plastic surgery?
No. I was once told I look like Tori Spelling pre-nose-and-boob job. Why would I want to mess with that? :P

89. Which are better black or green olives?
Neither. I'm not picky at all, but olives are a rare dislike.

90. Can you knit or crochet?
No, but I really wish I could. Especially crochet.

91. Best room for a fireplace?
Living room. Or library. Or bedroom. Or all three.

92. Do you want to get married?
Yes, but some details need to be ironed out first (ie: who is he?)

93. If married, how long have you been married?
N/A

94. Who was your HS crush?
Toby Penner (Jake fans, you know who I'm talking about. Toby, so do you :)

95. Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?
Nope. I don't cry very often.

96. Do you have kids?
Not that I know of.

97. Do you want kids?
Sure do. After question 92 gets sorted out.

98. What’s your favorite color?
Chocolate brown. Barn red.

99. Do you miss anyone right now?
I'm sure I do if I meditate on the question, which I refuse to do. I don't want to ruin my evening.

100. Who do you wanna see right now?
Um, Bono? King Hezekiah? Douglas Coupland? Aladdin?

Recent Adventures

I'm a big fan of lists. I make them almost daily. So, in an effort to be true to myself, I will update you all in the form of a list. Apologies to those who aren't list fans. You may get a paragraph or two in the near future.

1. Went to Awesome Cottage. Ben's blog sums it up best. It lived up to its name.
2. I predicted the Italy win. (After I already lost the office pool).
• Me: So, Italy's gonna win.
• Everyone else: Uh, no, it'll be France.
3. I only got bug bites on my right leg. Some swelling, but no disfigurement.
   
4. I get to observe the L.A. trainer at work this week. Yes, I am paid to watch someone teach other people.
   
5. Wendy is coming! Wendy is coming! (My ex-roommate, a Vancouverite now, is coming to TO this week).
6. I got a wedding invitation today and got all intimidated by the "Nadine and guest" part. How do I know if there will be a "guest" in my life this fall?
7. I haven't seen Pirates yet, but I'm excited to soon be a part of the ridiculous financial success the based-on-a-theme-park-ride film is experiencing.
8. The cashier at the grocery store charged me twice for my chicken. Not for my cucumber, not for my tuna, for my chicken. The expensive item. Because I'm made of money.
9. Just saw a trailer for The Prestige. So excited. Christian Bale and Christopher Nolan are my new favorite duo. Perhaps trumping Fred and Ginger.

That's about it for now. Off to pack a lunch, sip tea and go to bed early. I'm brilliant at being an old lady. I went to bed at 8:30 yesterday (cottage recovery).

My Right Foot

I love long weekends. These are the highlights of mine:

1. Friday (not quite the weekend): I see a Canadian tour bus with the lyrics to "This Land Is My Land" on it. "No big deal," you're probably thinking, tempted to skip over this part. Wait for it. Canadian celebrities' faces are painted on a map of Canada on the side of the bus. The usual: Céline Dion, Great Big Sea. And...Hocus Pick. Yes, folks. Hocus Pick is on the side of a bus.

2. Saturday: I do the family thing, hanging out at my aunt and uncle's new place. I decide that I prefer decks and open spaces and country air to smog and humidity and tiny apartments. I should have found myself an aggie when I was at Guelph. Oh, and a couple mosquitoes bite me on the heel.

3. Sunday: I go to church with my grandmother. I remember going with her when I was a little girl, sitting in a tiny church that was mostly empty, listening to a pastor I couldn't follow. What a difference the Holy Spirit makes. That same little church has just moved into a brand-new building, and was overflowing the 400+ sanctuary capacity. To think that this stuff happens in the middle of a farmer's field. Awesome. The rest of the day is spent on a deck, in the backyard, and walking around the countryside. See the one-room schoolhouse my mom went to. So picturesque and non-city. I love it.

4. Monday: I can't really walk. I'm having a reaction to those mosquito bites. My right ankle is double its usual size, with painful and itchy blistering bites. I look a little deformed. I feel like such a wimp, being immobilized by a bug.

That was my weekend: Hocus Pick and a deformed ankle. It was wonderful. Too bad I still can't flex my foot.

Short and Sweet. The blog, not me.

I would just like to say that 1 Chronicles is a way cooler book than I remember it being. I highly recommend it, y'all. Just when it starts to get overwhelmingly listy, a refreshingly honest prayer or song pops up. And I'm a list person anyway....

And David rocks. Literally and figuratively.

Superman vs. Braveheart

Both movies are on right now. Braveheart is winning the suck-Nadine-in battle.

All I have to say is, any woman in her right mind would choose William Wallace over Kal-El any day. Yes, kilt over cape.

The Lake House

Sometimes I suck at being a girl. After church today, I tried to go shopping. I still need shoes. This was my third shoe trip. Again, empty handed. I went on to clothing shopping, and again failed miserably. Shopaholic I am not. Material Girl I shall never be.

To prove to myself that I'm still all girlie and feminine, I went to see The Lake House. Movies always fit. No change rooms, no confusing price tags or cleaning instructions.

The movie could very well have the tagline "True love waits." While it was far from being a great movie, it was a little refreshing for Hollywood fare (as evidenced in my tagline). It kind of reminded me of a Bebo Norman song:

But I will dream of tomorrow
Where the past will not be in my way
Passion lives another day
And I will dream of tomorrow
Where perhaps she'll wait for me

Perhaps She’ll Wait – Bebo Norman

Reasons you may not like The Lake House:

• Keanu Reeves is the romantic leading man. And apparently is better at fake-crying than he is at fake-sneezing.
• The whole time warp issue. Unless you’re good at the whole major-suspension-of-belief thing, the plot holes will drive you crazy.
• Sandra Bullock is looking younger with age. If you have aging issues, you may want to cry.
• You’re cynical. Or a guy.

Reasons you may like it:

• You like Bebo Norman songs (see above).
• You happen to believe that waiting for love is romantic (think Jacob waiting for Rachel twice – we’re talking serious waiting here).
• You know better than the critics and think Keanu deserves an Oscar.
• It’s less than two hours.

I'm not sure how many thumbs up I'd give the flick, but it did make me think a little more than X:3 and The DaVinci Code. I was a little disappointed it didn't make me cry. Too many plot holes and not enough character development to move anybody. But the last line was (predictable, yes, but) pretty darn perfect.

The Gift of Loneliness

I had a couple weird dreams last night. I've been fighting a miserable headache all week, and I'm blaming that on the randomness of them.

One involved an Amy Grant concert in which she didn't sing a single hit of hers. Everything really obscure.

The other had me marrying an old friend out of some sort of obligation. Oddly enough, I didn't really care that we weren't getting along or hadn't seen each other in years. When I woke up, I felt so lonely, as if this husband of mine had just disappeared into the abyss. I was half-expecting an e-mail from him today. It just felt so real.

I was going to try to pontificate on the single life (not quite an expert, but I have a lot of experience), when I came across this article. It's pretty much all I wanted to say, so just read it and pretend that I'm nodding along.

The Problem with Justice (of the Human Kind)

The only brief moment in my life I have ever considered becoming a lawyer was in 11th grade law class. I didn't want to prosecute anybody, and I wasn't really all that interested in defending a bunch of criminals either. All I wanted was to see Steven Truscott exonerated. And now, it actually might happen.

I've been a little obsessed with his case since I first read about it. Three books, and many documentaries and articles later, he's become my national hero. For a 14-year-old to be sentenced to be hanged "until you are dead" and stripped of an adolescence due to a community's blind need for instant justice is abhorrent. The fact that he has grown up to be a hard-working family man who harbors no bitterness is miraculous.

Let the man have his name cleared. Drop the pride, Canada, and admit that you failed a young boy 47 years ago. And then give him the Order of Canada for never turning his back on the country that wounded him, and for choosing to live a full life decades after you sentenced him to die.

(And ridiculous change of subject: Go Edmonton!)

Jesse and the Rippers

Someone discovered this video at work today. I figured it went well with yesterday's post.
Please keep in mind that this video was made in character (explaining his wedding ring and twin boys floating in the sky).

I laughed so hard. It made my day.



I can't imagine why money was invested in such a thing, but I'm glad it was.

Randomness Vol. 1

This is one of those blogs that has no real topic, just a bunch of random thoughts that have been running through my head all day.

• Keanu Reeves is hilarious when you watch him at double speed.
• I think I used to share a wardrobe with Stephanie Tanner. I wanted to be D.J. I wanted to marry Uncle Jesse. I was a messed-up kid.
• Is The Killing Fields really an inspirational movie?
• I suck at shopping. I tried to buy shoes, but ended up buying a gross sweater that I’ll be returning tomorrow.
• Is it possible to eat too much lettuce?
• Charles Price rocks. And is slightly psychic. Or actually in tune with God.
• “The little punks have always counted.” – Meet John Doe
• Why would someone start a rumour that Steve Urkel is dead?
• I'm so glad Gene Kelly didn't become a lawyer.
• I think my street smells like Minden, Ontario. I don't know why.
• Cheering for England but betting on Argentina is like my parents cheering for me but betting on the other team: the smart thing to do.
• I think I challenged a guy in LA to a fight. I know I challenged a guy in Toronto to a fight. Chicken.
  
• The Pinky and the Brain theme song is too catchy for its own good.
• I don't know what I'd do if I was stuck in a lifeboat with a Bengali tiger. Other than die. I'm no Pi. He should stick to taming tigers and leave the big sweeping God statements to people who know God. Like Oprah. Kidding.
• Keira's Pride and Predjudice doesn't suck. It's actually quite good. No Colin Firth, but still, "You have bewitched me, body and soul" is pretty darn romantic. *Swoon*
  

So that's my head this lovely Wednesday evening. I'm half-watching AFI's 100 Years, 100 Cheers on TV. I don't know if I'll make it all the way through. I'll probably just read the final list online tomorrow. I get up at 6, peoples.

On now: "We'll always have Paris."

I swear, that movie is on every single best-movie list that has ever been created.
"And the greatest 80's horror flick is...Casablanca!"

Night, all.

World Cup Vs. Stanley Cup

At work, they’re trying to set up a World Cup pool. Since I won the Oscar pool (I knew Crash would win Best Picture), I have a reputation to protect. The problem? I have no real idea what I’m talking about. I mean, I know the rules of soccer, but I don’t know much about the teams this year. Or any other year.

I’m thinking Brazil, Argentina and England look good. I’ve been doing my research. That’s what I do.

We started talking about why the World Cup is so much more exciting than the cup named Stanley. Here’s my personal top-10 list:

1. It’s only every four years, like the Olympics. You can’t get sick of it that way.
2. It’s a national thing. How many Oilers are from Edmonton? From Canada? North America?
3. The teeth: I’ve never seen Beckham without his teeth in.
4. Beyond the teeth: No scars. No major disfiguration. Essentially, the soccer players win in the beauty department.
5. The fans are crazier. And make up about 1/3 of the world’s population.
6. The commentators are so frikkin’ cool. Especially the British ones.
7. None of this best-of-7 crap. They play and either win or lose. That’s the way it should be. And games are on all the time. For only a month.
8. Toronto comes alive. Flags are everywhere; sports bars are rolling in the dough; everyone’s pumped.
9. Anyone can play soccer. Even little girls who drop kick the ball over their own head into their own net. Again.
10. Anyone can win. It’s the sport of the underdog. Go Trinidad and Tobago.

For those who are following closely, I have the weekend to decide who will be the No. 1 and 2 teams, and what the final score will be. Any suggestions?

Liar, Liar, Jersey on Fire

One wintry day in grade nine, I stood just inside the side entrance of my high school, waiting for my mom to pick me up for an orthodontist appointment. Unbeknownst to me, this was also the pickup spot for the track team (it must have been an indoor event, it was so cold). A runner walked up to me (no, she didn’t run), asking me if I was heading to the meet. I said no. I believe she responded with something along the lines of, “Oh, well, you look athletic. That’s a good thing.”

I felt like a failure, and for two reasons: A, until Trivial Pursuit becomes a recognized sport, I am no athlete, and B, my image was clearly deceitful. I needed to ditch the Nike coat (now worn by my mother on super-cold days. Somehow, she doesn’t look as quarterbackish as I did) and the sneakers for a nerdier look. Something more honest.

And now I feel equally dishonest with the hockey game on in the background. Have I watched a single game this season? Have I cared? Do I care now? Is it my cultural obligation to be thrilled beyond belief that a team far away (if this was Europe, Edmonton would be eight countries away) is playing for a shiny oversized chalice that they don’t even get to keep? (This is why I’d rather win an Oscar; I could display it in my bathroom forever).

I am excited. I really am. I’m just not sure why. Have I been convinced that this is exciting? Did I lose some debate? Or am I just looking to fill some void in my life? Maybe my life is lacking in major excitement. Maybe I need an excuse to paint a maple leaf on my face and scream obnoxiously.

Oh, there it goes. The channel surfing has begun. I think I’ll just watch the game during commercials. I feel more comfortable with half-watching. Maybe I’ll work my way up to a full game, watching a little more every game until game 4, or 5, or 6….

I think there’s something missing when you watch a game alone in silence.

Oh, look, it’s Ben Mulroney, my second-favourite Canadian. Right after Don Cherry.

Go Edmonton!

X-Men: The Last Stand

I just saw X-Men. It was all right. Nothing spectatular. A little cluttered with too many characters. Too big of a story. It tried to be a social commentary, but it wasn't. And you don't get an A for effort in Hollywood.

However, there were some hot girls for the guys to look at, some hot guys for the girls to look at, a bunch of explosions, a few veins popping out of foreheads, a bunch of screaming and kicking, and Hugh Jackman attempts to cry. If that's your kind of thing, you'll love this flick.

Honestly, it probably wouldn't have been that bad if the first two hadn't set the standard high. Instead, insert the Rush Hour director and get a generic action flick with a fuzzy Kelsey Grammer awkwardly running around.

It's better than Da Vinci as there's an actual fun factor. However, if you're looking for a great movie, I still recommend Thank You For Smoking.

Céline May Outlast the Boat...

“Someday the Titanic will collapse upon itself.”

I was watching a documentary on the shipwreck (no, Dad, I was not watching the Leonardo movie) which followed an exhibition to explore the theory that the ship’s bottom was scraped as well as the side of the hull, ensuring its doom.

I’ve always had a fascination with the Titanic. In the fourth grade, I was in a drama club that met at lunch hour. One day, my teacher had us reenact the sinking of the ship. She read us a short story about the iceberg and the lifeboats, and then we flung ourselves madly across the portable, screaming for help. I’ve been a little obsessed ever since.

And now I’m being told that the ship might fall apart? What? If anyone out there reading this happens to have access to a submarine, let me know. I don’t have money to give you but you’ll make me very happy, and the thrill of generosity should be a reward in itself. I’ve always wanted to see a shipwreck. Without actually being on a sinking ship. And without having the ship being brought to land. I want to meet one in its habitat. Preferably the Titanic.

I think the appeal of being a writer is that I can justify exploring my interests as research. So I’m thinking, in the spirit of the sequel obsession, I should write Titanic II: Still at the Bottom before there’s nothing much left to work with.

In the Right Place

I was having a moment of self-pity the other day. I realized I didn't have any real friends in the city. Of course, this isn't true, but when you get into that "this sucks" headspace, it's easy to feed the internal drama. Probably closer to the truth is that I don't really know any Christians. I'm in that awkward age group that makes it hard to A, find Christian peers, and B, work my way into a pre-existing group of Christian young adults at a church.

And then God snapped me out of my sulk.

First of all, I have friends. I really do. Sure, most of them happen to subtitle for a living, but I happen to believe that subtitlers are pretty cool. And for some of my colleagues who are new to the city, I am one of their only friends. So while I have no Christian friends, their only friend is a Christian. I'm the only Christian in my work environment. How humbling is that? For some, I am the only example of Christ they may have.

Secondly, I have been given a gift most PK's don't get to experience; I get to experience church from the outside. Until recently, I've never really thought about the newcomer's perspective, how awkward and intensely lonely church can be when forced to sit at the back alone, welcomed solely by the usher, and ignored and out-of-the-loop for the rest of the service. How many times have I failed to pay attention to the people around me? How do I know if they're a follower of Christ or a desperate seeker about to abandon hope if I don't make the effort to get to know them?

Moral of my story: Nadine, snap out of your funk. Be grateful for the unique position God's put you in. You wanted out of the Christian bubble, and you're out. Now go love on some people...

My Life is Worth Something

A follow-up to my "Blonde Moment of the Month" post.

After having signed my birthdate instead of the real date on my life insurance application, things are now sorted out. I have been approved. My life is worth something. Not a whole lot, mind you, but enough to have me properly buried (that's really all I need the insurance for).

I would like my coffin to be lined with flannel. In case you were wondering.