A day and a half to go, and my nerves are on edge. Why do I say this? Well, for one, I'm vibrating, for two, I've got harsh butterflies in my stomach, and for three... Well I dunno. I just am.
Tomorrow, I turn 25. I'm visiting my parents. I was supposed to go play Minigolf in Abbotsford, but it's raining, and that's a two hour drive from GLORIOUS Suburbia, a.k.a. Burnaby. I spent my entire day yesterday (seriously, from 11:30 am to 9:30 pm) in a meeting with my buisiness partner, including a walk down to Capers for dinner (her treat) which consisted of the best quiche I've ever had, and the most amazing dark chocolate mousse cake in the universe. Seriously, her expression when she took a bite (I saved her half) was shock, and bliss, followed by devouring the rest of the cake. Fuck, it was that damned good. My mouth had at least three orgasms alone. I'll admit, I was really frazzled/exhausted after that long an amount of time working on something that is moving along slowly but steadily, and I know that the frustration is largely due to the fact that it's a relatively new business that needs to be built on a steady foundation. However, that being said, most independant businesses fold before a year, and we're getting more and more calls.
I'm staying over at Crystal's because she's driving me to the airport (Thank god for good friends) and I'm totally excited inside. It's was that super nervous naseous feeling before, and now it's turned into this almost Christmas-like excitement. AND! I get to unwrap a big present too. *smirks*
I MIGHT post an entry in Salt Lake City terminal, depending on how long it takes me to find the plane I'm transferring over to. I'm a paranoid traveler, and I'm totally spooked I'll miss one of my connections. 99 percent sure this WON'T happen, but I'm nothing if not cautious.
Anyways, I might post tomorrow, but if not, rest assured I'm going to try to have a relatively low key, Happy Birthday.
*kisses*
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Not An Exit #5
Ha! I love the service clerk's expression. she's TRYING not to laugh. (I'd be pissing myself laughing.) I just love the thought of a shiny, brand-spanking-new store, that put about three thousand people, (mostly elderly and low income families) out of a place to shop for six months, and then having something like this happen on the day of the grand opening.
Of course, I know that poor service clerk is going to have to clean up the entire fucking mess left behind.
Of course, I know that poor service clerk is going to have to clean up the entire fucking mess left behind.
Not An Exit #4
Bring out the JAWS OF LIFE!! No, just kidding.Obviously it was just a horrible horrible shock to the driver to realize that they weren't playing Grand Theft Auto Vice City. Physics obviously wasn't their strong subject in Highschool.
Not An Exit #3
Yessssuhhhhh! I am so smart, S-M-R-T! I was SO thinking when I took that left turn. I was also wondering why mommies with strollers were shrieking and running out of the way. Hrmm... I wonder if ICBC is going to cover this?
My answer? I don't fucking think so.
My answer? I don't fucking think so.
Not An Exit #2
Oy Vey. yeah, the railings sure made it look like you could drive down there. Fuck. I wonder if they bought their license.
Not An Exit #1
(Photographs courtesy of Mark D. my old Assistant Manager.)
"Experience the unexpected", indeed. Christ. I'm SO glad I don't work for the "Big Red S" anymore.
"Experience the unexpected", indeed. Christ. I'm SO glad I don't work for the "Big Red S" anymore.
FOCKERS!
*grumbles*
Fucking college server kicking my portfolio off. Oh Yeah, well screw you!! I can put it up on my own webspace. That's right, I'm TALENTED!
*grumbles some more profanities.*
Fucking college server kicking my portfolio off. Oh Yeah, well screw you!! I can put it up on my own webspace. That's right, I'm TALENTED!
*grumbles some more profanities.*
Kirk and the Dragonfly
My "nephew" Kirk. He's five and this picture totally captures a child's wonder at viewing something in nature. Either that or he's trying to eat it.
Oy. Exhuberant 5 Year Old + Hungover Auntie Linds = Exhaustion.
I spent the better part of last night at Mavericks with The Jewish Princess, who decided to take me out to "Beach Night".
Needless to say, seven $2.50 highballs later, (I even got cranberry and vodka, it's amazing what a good pair of tits gets you from the bartender) and I was feeling a little tipsy. I was in bed by three, and up at sevenish. I'm not sure exactly when I was up, but it was early, since TJP had to go to work and I was a glorious houseguest crashing on her futon. Remarkably headache free, actually.
Spent the large portion of the morning with Crystal and her very energetic son Kirk. (My nephew) searching out used, over priced books for her college courses. Explain this to me... Why is it that books for college courses, cost almost as much as the damned course? Somehow, that reeks of unfair to me.
I'm not too terribly coherant right now, because my nephew decided to touch EVERYTHING in the bookstore and surrounding area, and he's a handful when he's happy (He usually is around me, for some reason...) So most of my morning was chasing around a very athletic monkey child. A gorgeous child, but a monkey child nonetheless.
Needless to say, seven $2.50 highballs later, (I even got cranberry and vodka, it's amazing what a good pair of tits gets you from the bartender) and I was feeling a little tipsy. I was in bed by three, and up at sevenish. I'm not sure exactly when I was up, but it was early, since TJP had to go to work and I was a glorious houseguest crashing on her futon. Remarkably headache free, actually.
Spent the large portion of the morning with Crystal and her very energetic son Kirk. (My nephew) searching out used, over priced books for her college courses. Explain this to me... Why is it that books for college courses, cost almost as much as the damned course? Somehow, that reeks of unfair to me.
I'm not too terribly coherant right now, because my nephew decided to touch EVERYTHING in the bookstore and surrounding area, and he's a handful when he's happy (He usually is around me, for some reason...) So most of my morning was chasing around a very athletic monkey child. A gorgeous child, but a monkey child nonetheless.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Blondes Have More Fun, My Arse.
I spent the last month and a half being a redhead. That's all fine and dandy, but considering how horrifyingly quickly my hair grows, it wasn't long before I had "floating hair" (in otherwords, I had about half an inch of dark brown roots underneath all that glorious red dead straight afro. (Okay, only in the morning.)
To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if that's my natural hair colour since it's a proven fact that hair dye chemically alters the colour that your roots produce, even after the first dye job, and I started dying my hair when I was 12. (The most hideous, fire engine/Ronald McDonald red in the universe, no less.) It was supposed to wash out in eight washes, but no dice, my friends. I read my grade 8 annual and cringe, because most of the entries are about my bright red hair.
The box lied to me.
And no, I can't verify the natural colour of my hair any other way, before you even ask. The drapes don't match the carpet, because the carpet is hardwood flooring.
Ahem. Anyways... True to form, I've become a connoisseur of changing my hair colour, and often end up using home kits to dye friends hair, (I've only fucked up ONCE, sorry Crystal.) I could post about twenty pictures of me in varying shades of colour, from Barbie blonde, (including with, and without trashy dark brown roots) previously mentioned Ronald McDonald red, Flamingo pink, (Yes, that was deliberate) Blue, a tame red, and my current favourite, Dark brown with light blonde chunky highlights. There's also a shit load of colours in between I'm forgetting. The same goes for length I've been shorter than my current style, to down to my lower back. I'm a full believer that you should play with your hair, and find what suits you the most, in both colour and cut.
My hairdresser texturizes the fuck out of my hair, being that it's very thick, and if she didn't texturize it, in the current style I have right now, tends to look like my mom put a bowl on my head and simply followed the edge. I'm going to attempt, (and yes, I know I've said this to at least half a dozen friends, but still!) to grow my hair out at about the middle of my shoulder blades. It's that dratted bangs in the eyes stage I detest that drives me insane. (Hence why I was NOT pleased having a cut with them, but have grown accustomed to it.) As it stands now, I'm a little too shaggy for my own comfort, and I was tempted to stop by and let my hairdresser have at it.
My close family is very vain about our hair. Perhaps it's genetic. At present, my Father's hair is longer than mine, his goes to past his shoulder blades, and he pampers the hell out of it. (I find that adorable.) For those of you that have never seen a picture of my father (Check the Christmas Day entry) he's about six foot four, I'm guessing around 230-ish lbs, Husky, full bearded, and looks like the gruffest biker in the universe, but is the sweetest man and has a laugh that is addictive and always makes me smile. My mother has long dark auburn hair that if she didn't dye it would go the coolest silver-grey. Once I go grey, (And I love to say this even though I won't follow through most likely) I'm not dying it. I want to have that wicked shade, and I hope to hell I do go that colour. As it stands now, I haven't seen a grey yet, but that event is probably happening sooner, rather than later.
Such is the life of my hair. Fascinating, I'm sure. Apologies for the completely trivial post, but hey, sometimes the urge just hits you smack in the forehead.
To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if that's my natural hair colour since it's a proven fact that hair dye chemically alters the colour that your roots produce, even after the first dye job, and I started dying my hair when I was 12. (The most hideous, fire engine/Ronald McDonald red in the universe, no less.) It was supposed to wash out in eight washes, but no dice, my friends. I read my grade 8 annual and cringe, because most of the entries are about my bright red hair.
The box lied to me.
And no, I can't verify the natural colour of my hair any other way, before you even ask. The drapes don't match the carpet, because the carpet is hardwood flooring.
Ahem. Anyways... True to form, I've become a connoisseur of changing my hair colour, and often end up using home kits to dye friends hair, (I've only fucked up ONCE, sorry Crystal.) I could post about twenty pictures of me in varying shades of colour, from Barbie blonde, (including with, and without trashy dark brown roots) previously mentioned Ronald McDonald red, Flamingo pink, (Yes, that was deliberate) Blue, a tame red, and my current favourite, Dark brown with light blonde chunky highlights. There's also a shit load of colours in between I'm forgetting. The same goes for length I've been shorter than my current style, to down to my lower back. I'm a full believer that you should play with your hair, and find what suits you the most, in both colour and cut.
My hairdresser texturizes the fuck out of my hair, being that it's very thick, and if she didn't texturize it, in the current style I have right now, tends to look like my mom put a bowl on my head and simply followed the edge. I'm going to attempt, (and yes, I know I've said this to at least half a dozen friends, but still!) to grow my hair out at about the middle of my shoulder blades. It's that dratted bangs in the eyes stage I detest that drives me insane. (Hence why I was NOT pleased having a cut with them, but have grown accustomed to it.) As it stands now, I'm a little too shaggy for my own comfort, and I was tempted to stop by and let my hairdresser have at it.
My close family is very vain about our hair. Perhaps it's genetic. At present, my Father's hair is longer than mine, his goes to past his shoulder blades, and he pampers the hell out of it. (I find that adorable.) For those of you that have never seen a picture of my father (Check the Christmas Day entry) he's about six foot four, I'm guessing around 230-ish lbs, Husky, full bearded, and looks like the gruffest biker in the universe, but is the sweetest man and has a laugh that is addictive and always makes me smile. My mother has long dark auburn hair that if she didn't dye it would go the coolest silver-grey. Once I go grey, (And I love to say this even though I won't follow through most likely) I'm not dying it. I want to have that wicked shade, and I hope to hell I do go that colour. As it stands now, I haven't seen a grey yet, but that event is probably happening sooner, rather than later.
Such is the life of my hair. Fascinating, I'm sure. Apologies for the completely trivial post, but hey, sometimes the urge just hits you smack in the forehead.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
*Snigger*
My Grandmother has finished almost half of the "Last Supper 3000" puzzle.
I can attest, for a fact, that it does indeed glow in the dark. Pictures will be posted when it's done, because damn... That's funny.
Also, I would like to mention that the secret location of Springfield, USA. Home of the Simpsons, has been discovered. Go take a peek.
I can attest, for a fact, that it does indeed glow in the dark. Pictures will be posted when it's done, because damn... That's funny.
Also, I would like to mention that the secret location of Springfield, USA. Home of the Simpsons, has been discovered. Go take a peek.
Dandelions Beware!!! All Who Hath Entered Here, No Hope Shall Continue. Or Some Shit.
Yeah, nothing makes sense in that except the Dandelions beware. It's alllllll good.
I'm a very sore girl this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. I overextended myself last night at the pool and ended up (somehow) yarking a muscle in my foot. I think it was probably about 10 minutes to the end of my swim, when I was tired, and pushed off the wall a little wonky, twisting my ankle or something. I honestly couldn't tell you. I feel like an idiot.
It hurt like a sonofabitch last night, but sweet, sweet Advil(tm) and keeping off of it helped immensely. It stopped feeling like I had run my foot through a meat grinder at around 2 am, and I could hobble around all pretty-like on it. That being said, I topped my 35 laps, and did 40. Roughly 40.
I also ended up spending $16.78 on Terayaki Chicken (and BOY was I pissed when I had it all wrapped up and went through the till.) because my business partner invited me to dinner. Dinner was good, I'll admit, but two chicken breasts should NOT cost almost 17 dollars.
So I've got a few questions. What the fuck do they feed organic chickens? Do they SING to them? Do they cuddle them to sleep to make them that damned expensive? I was horrified!
I'm well enough to spend part of my waking hours in the yard, tugging up dandelions for my grandmother, who has discovered ANOTHER antichrist, along with mismatched socks. Therefore, I must go about, hobbling, using some funky device to remove dandelions. Hey, at least I improved my tan.
I'm a very sore girl this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. I overextended myself last night at the pool and ended up (somehow) yarking a muscle in my foot. I think it was probably about 10 minutes to the end of my swim, when I was tired, and pushed off the wall a little wonky, twisting my ankle or something. I honestly couldn't tell you. I feel like an idiot.
It hurt like a sonofabitch last night, but sweet, sweet Advil(tm) and keeping off of it helped immensely. It stopped feeling like I had run my foot through a meat grinder at around 2 am, and I could hobble around all pretty-like on it. That being said, I topped my 35 laps, and did 40. Roughly 40.
I also ended up spending $16.78 on Terayaki Chicken (and BOY was I pissed when I had it all wrapped up and went through the till.) because my business partner invited me to dinner. Dinner was good, I'll admit, but two chicken breasts should NOT cost almost 17 dollars.
So I've got a few questions. What the fuck do they feed organic chickens? Do they SING to them? Do they cuddle them to sleep to make them that damned expensive? I was horrified!
I'm well enough to spend part of my waking hours in the yard, tugging up dandelions for my grandmother, who has discovered ANOTHER antichrist, along with mismatched socks. Therefore, I must go about, hobbling, using some funky device to remove dandelions. Hey, at least I improved my tan.
Wow.
Gosh, I dunno what to say.
The amount of well wishes for my upcoming trip that I'm getting from the people that I chat with, and the people that read this blog, is absolutely staggering. To hear that people are looking forward to seeing me is even more delightful.
I'm also getting a heck of a lot of "Happy Birthday's".
I'm blushing. Really. I am.
Thank-you. I love you all.
The amount of well wishes for my upcoming trip that I'm getting from the people that I chat with, and the people that read this blog, is absolutely staggering. To hear that people are looking forward to seeing me is even more delightful.
I'm also getting a heck of a lot of "Happy Birthday's".
I'm blushing. Really. I am.
Thank-you. I love you all.
Monday, April 25, 2005
WHOOO!!! (A Brief!)
Woke up in a SUPER happy mood, (which is always a good thing!) I actually JUST spun around in my desk chair like a six year old. *grins*
I'm going swimming, which is one of my favourite things to do, so I'm not on long, I have to save up energy for doing laps around the pool. Last time I managed about 35 laps in an hour and a half. I don't think I'm going to compete with that, considering how completely bagged I was afterwards. I think I'll have a nice leisurely swim for four hours or so. (This isn't unusual)
Special thanks go out to Mike G. who sent me one kickass compilation of Rock n' Fuckin roll via dropload to groove to at home. Tres enjoyable, and most stuff I don't have yet. (You guys know how much of a hussy I am for new music.) The weather is GORGEOUS outside. I'm sure you can hear me bubbling away like an idiot over here, so I'm going to go PLAY!!!
All this and I actually woke up to a SPIDER on my bathrobe!! Eeek! S'okay. It was an eensy little guy, but he had one helluva launch from my sleeve when I caught him patrolling Glamazon skin territory. Eewww...
I'm going swimming, which is one of my favourite things to do, so I'm not on long, I have to save up energy for doing laps around the pool. Last time I managed about 35 laps in an hour and a half. I don't think I'm going to compete with that, considering how completely bagged I was afterwards. I think I'll have a nice leisurely swim for four hours or so. (This isn't unusual)
Special thanks go out to Mike G. who sent me one kickass compilation of Rock n' Fuckin roll via dropload to groove to at home. Tres enjoyable, and most stuff I don't have yet. (You guys know how much of a hussy I am for new music.) The weather is GORGEOUS outside. I'm sure you can hear me bubbling away like an idiot over here, so I'm going to go PLAY!!!
All this and I actually woke up to a SPIDER on my bathrobe!! Eeek! S'okay. It was an eensy little guy, but he had one helluva launch from my sleeve when I caught him patrolling Glamazon skin territory. Eewww...
Sunday, April 24, 2005
A Request...
Consider this a creative project in progress, I need some answers from you guys. I know it sounds narcissistic, but I need some help on something, and I want it to reflect what my original idea is.
Really, all I'm wondering is:
If you could describe me (linds) in one or two words, (or one sentence at the maximum,) what would it be?
This applies to anyone. go for it. I know there's haters out there. I really don't care. try to be as honest and serious as possible. I'd love to have tons of responses to work with.
Really, all I'm wondering is:
If you could describe me (linds) in one or two words, (or one sentence at the maximum,) what would it be?
This applies to anyone. go for it. I know there's haters out there. I really don't care. try to be as honest and serious as possible. I'd love to have tons of responses to work with.
This is supposed to be the "Friday Five"...
but I compiled a bunch of them together. Why? Because I can. Consider it your "Saturday Fifteen."
Music:
1. What is the first record/tape/CD that you bought?
The first Tape I owned was Duran Duran I don't remember what album it was anymore. The first CD's I owned, were Jann Arden -- "Living Under June" and Annie Lennox -- "Medusa"
2. Who is your favorite all time band/singer?
Oh god. Aretha Franklin, because her voice is the balm to my soul, I used to adore Collective Soul. Now, there are too many to list, and my music collection threatens to topple over and smother me in my sleep.
3. What have you been listening to lately?
Lately, I've been listening to Delerium and Enigma, quite a bit. Like, right now.
4. What is your favorite radio station, what do they play, and where do they broadcast?
I wake up to 94.5 The Beat, every morning. They play hip-hop, R&B, and top 40. Waittaminute. Let me clarify, they play GOOD hip-hop and R&B. (well, some crap too, but I only listen to it in between pressing snooze.) They broadcast in the Lower Mainland only, as far as I know. I find it enjoyable. I used to listen to Classic Rock 101, but I got tired of hearing "Money" by Pink Floyd EVERY SINGLE MORNING when I got up. (I'm not joking. every morning.)
5. Can you recommend a good song or CD that everyone should listen to?
I'm cheating. I'm mentioning four.
Everyone should listen to these four albums:
i) Aretha Franklin -- "The very best, The 60s"
ii) Green Day -- "American Idiot"
iii) Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble - "The essential Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble (2 Disc set)
iv) Fiona Apple -- "Tidal"
Literature:
1. What is the one book that you reread over and over again?
I read all my books over and over again. All of them. I read "Ender's Game", "Ender's Shadow", and "Shadow Of the Hedgemon" repeatedly, written by Orson Scott Card. I also read the Kushiel's Dart Trilogy by Jacqueline Carey and "Queen Of the Damned" by Anne Rice over and over. I love these stories.
2. What is your favourite genre?
It's a toss up between 'Science Fiction' and 'Fantasy'. I don't like non-fiction. It bores me to tears. Lately I've also been browsing through some pretty, yet phenominally expensive design magazines (I use the term Magazine loosely, it's a quarterly released issue, and it's usually as thick as the fucking bible.)
3. Do you usually buy your books or visit the library?
Book stores. I am horrible for returning books to the Library. I think Vancouver Public Library has a warrant out for me for late fees. (Hey! That's between you, me and the fencepost, okay?)
4. Who is your favourite author?
Anne McCaffrey, Anne Rice, Orson Scott Card, Piers Anthony, Mercedes Lackey, Hunter S. Thompson, and too many more to remember this late in the evening.
5. What book have you read that you absolutely hated?
I usually have no problem sitting down and reading a book cover to cover in about a day and a half, but the ONLY book that I slogged through from start to finish was "Wind in the Stone", by Andre Norton. I could never empathize with the protagonist OR the antagonist. It drove me nuts, but I finished it because I can never leave a book without reading the whole thing. I need to know the end, even if it sucks.
Random Stuff.
1 thing that's on your mind right now
That I'm alone.
2 songs you like
i) "You and I" by Delerium
ii) "Sweet Sweet Baby (Since You've been Gone)" by Aretha Franklin.
3 things that make you angry
i) Ignorance.
ii) People that jump to conclusions.
iii) People that say deliberately hurtful things for no reason.
4 things that make you happy
i) Devin. (Hah. You knew I was going to say that.)
ii) Writing.
iii) Singing.
iv) Tetris. (Yeah. It's my zen game. I play it when I need to unwind. I can't think and play at the same time.)
So what, I'm a dork.
5 people who have made a big impact on your life
i) My Mother. I heart my mommy. She's inspirational and has always told me that I could do whatever I wanted if I put my mind to it. Without that kindness, I might have drowned in my own depression when I was younger. My mom was also the inspiration to write. When I was a child, she would sit there in a writing frenzy, creating her novels and I never understood until I started writing on my own how much the need to do so possesses you.
ii) My Grandfather. My grandfather has been through so much hell the past three years, from losing his left leg from above the knee, to struggling through bladder cancer and consequentially Chemotherapy, and minor invasive surgery for heart problems at the present. He was smiling and happy on Christmas day just past after going through Chemo on Christmas Eve, and I wish in my heart of hearts that I could be as strong as he is, when I know he's going through so much rough luck and still manages to have a smile cross his face.
iii) Haig Armen. He's my instructor in History Of Design. As lame as it sounds, I've never had a teacher as passionate about his work than Haig, other than my choir teacher in highschool. He's the sort of person that makes me want to BE a designer, when I can see how he loves his work.
iv) Crystal Belong. Imagine being knocked up by some asshole of a teenager when you're 16, having him leave you high and dry, and deciding to keep that child. Imagine struggling to raise that child, relatively on your own, with only some help from the people around you. Imagine trying to have a relationship, when you've got to think of your child first and how he will react to another adult influence in his life. Imagine going to school full time, working part time, and being a mother full time, putting food on the table, paying the amount of attention to your child that he needs, ensuring that his daycare is supplying what he needs to learn properly, getting YOUR homework done, making shifts on time... A million other tasks. This is what Crystal deals with on a daily basis. I find that unbelievably inspirational.
v) Devin Pike. Don't roll your eyes. He doesn't even understand why. I can't really explain it all that well myself, and I'm not too shabby with words. Maybe the fact that he inspired me to love again, when I was so fucking jaded. Maybe that he's a phenomenal writer, and inspired me to write this blog, which I find to be the best release of all this junk in my head I've ever had. Maybe that he's taught me how to forgive, forget, and move on, when I was stuck on that before.
I know, you might be thinking, these are all ordinary people. Why no celebrities? Why no Nobel Peace Prize winners? Because, I've had the opportunity to sit down and TALK to these people. Celebrities don't mean shit to me. The people I know are the ones that are important. Perhaps that's narrowing my view of the world, and it's not to say that others aren't inspirational. This was a remarkably difficult question to pick only five people, and I did the best I could.
Fuck it. I'm not going to defend my answers. Take 'em as you read 'em.
Music:
1. What is the first record/tape/CD that you bought?
The first Tape I owned was Duran Duran I don't remember what album it was anymore. The first CD's I owned, were Jann Arden -- "Living Under June" and Annie Lennox -- "Medusa"
2. Who is your favorite all time band/singer?
Oh god. Aretha Franklin, because her voice is the balm to my soul, I used to adore Collective Soul. Now, there are too many to list, and my music collection threatens to topple over and smother me in my sleep.
3. What have you been listening to lately?
Lately, I've been listening to Delerium and Enigma, quite a bit. Like, right now.
4. What is your favorite radio station, what do they play, and where do they broadcast?
I wake up to 94.5 The Beat, every morning. They play hip-hop, R&B, and top 40. Waittaminute. Let me clarify, they play GOOD hip-hop and R&B. (well, some crap too, but I only listen to it in between pressing snooze.) They broadcast in the Lower Mainland only, as far as I know. I find it enjoyable. I used to listen to Classic Rock 101, but I got tired of hearing "Money" by Pink Floyd EVERY SINGLE MORNING when I got up. (I'm not joking. every morning.)
5. Can you recommend a good song or CD that everyone should listen to?
I'm cheating. I'm mentioning four.
Everyone should listen to these four albums:
i) Aretha Franklin -- "The very best, The 60s"
ii) Green Day -- "American Idiot"
iii) Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble - "The essential Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble (2 Disc set)
iv) Fiona Apple -- "Tidal"
Literature:
1. What is the one book that you reread over and over again?
I read all my books over and over again. All of them. I read "Ender's Game", "Ender's Shadow", and "Shadow Of the Hedgemon" repeatedly, written by Orson Scott Card. I also read the Kushiel's Dart Trilogy by Jacqueline Carey and "Queen Of the Damned" by Anne Rice over and over. I love these stories.
2. What is your favourite genre?
It's a toss up between 'Science Fiction' and 'Fantasy'. I don't like non-fiction. It bores me to tears. Lately I've also been browsing through some pretty, yet phenominally expensive design magazines (I use the term Magazine loosely, it's a quarterly released issue, and it's usually as thick as the fucking bible.)
3. Do you usually buy your books or visit the library?
Book stores. I am horrible for returning books to the Library. I think Vancouver Public Library has a warrant out for me for late fees. (Hey! That's between you, me and the fencepost, okay?)
4. Who is your favourite author?
Anne McCaffrey, Anne Rice, Orson Scott Card, Piers Anthony, Mercedes Lackey, Hunter S. Thompson, and too many more to remember this late in the evening.
5. What book have you read that you absolutely hated?
I usually have no problem sitting down and reading a book cover to cover in about a day and a half, but the ONLY book that I slogged through from start to finish was "Wind in the Stone", by Andre Norton. I could never empathize with the protagonist OR the antagonist. It drove me nuts, but I finished it because I can never leave a book without reading the whole thing. I need to know the end, even if it sucks.
Random Stuff.
1 thing that's on your mind right now
That I'm alone.
2 songs you like
i) "You and I" by Delerium
ii) "Sweet Sweet Baby (Since You've been Gone)" by Aretha Franklin.
3 things that make you angry
i) Ignorance.
ii) People that jump to conclusions.
iii) People that say deliberately hurtful things for no reason.
4 things that make you happy
i) Devin. (Hah. You knew I was going to say that.)
ii) Writing.
iii) Singing.
iv) Tetris. (Yeah. It's my zen game. I play it when I need to unwind. I can't think and play at the same time.)
So what, I'm a dork.
5 people who have made a big impact on your life
i) My Mother. I heart my mommy. She's inspirational and has always told me that I could do whatever I wanted if I put my mind to it. Without that kindness, I might have drowned in my own depression when I was younger. My mom was also the inspiration to write. When I was a child, she would sit there in a writing frenzy, creating her novels and I never understood until I started writing on my own how much the need to do so possesses you.
ii) My Grandfather. My grandfather has been through so much hell the past three years, from losing his left leg from above the knee, to struggling through bladder cancer and consequentially Chemotherapy, and minor invasive surgery for heart problems at the present. He was smiling and happy on Christmas day just past after going through Chemo on Christmas Eve, and I wish in my heart of hearts that I could be as strong as he is, when I know he's going through so much rough luck and still manages to have a smile cross his face.
iii) Haig Armen. He's my instructor in History Of Design. As lame as it sounds, I've never had a teacher as passionate about his work than Haig, other than my choir teacher in highschool. He's the sort of person that makes me want to BE a designer, when I can see how he loves his work.
iv) Crystal Belong. Imagine being knocked up by some asshole of a teenager when you're 16, having him leave you high and dry, and deciding to keep that child. Imagine struggling to raise that child, relatively on your own, with only some help from the people around you. Imagine trying to have a relationship, when you've got to think of your child first and how he will react to another adult influence in his life. Imagine going to school full time, working part time, and being a mother full time, putting food on the table, paying the amount of attention to your child that he needs, ensuring that his daycare is supplying what he needs to learn properly, getting YOUR homework done, making shifts on time... A million other tasks. This is what Crystal deals with on a daily basis. I find that unbelievably inspirational.
v) Devin Pike. Don't roll your eyes. He doesn't even understand why. I can't really explain it all that well myself, and I'm not too shabby with words. Maybe the fact that he inspired me to love again, when I was so fucking jaded. Maybe that he's a phenomenal writer, and inspired me to write this blog, which I find to be the best release of all this junk in my head I've ever had. Maybe that he's taught me how to forgive, forget, and move on, when I was stuck on that before.
I know, you might be thinking, these are all ordinary people. Why no celebrities? Why no Nobel Peace Prize winners? Because, I've had the opportunity to sit down and TALK to these people. Celebrities don't mean shit to me. The people I know are the ones that are important. Perhaps that's narrowing my view of the world, and it's not to say that others aren't inspirational. This was a remarkably difficult question to pick only five people, and I did the best I could.
Fuck it. I'm not going to defend my answers. Take 'em as you read 'em.
Sometimes...
It's good to have your ego shot down a few notches. You might not like it at the time, but it's a good way to build character.
*sighs*
*sighs*
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Approximately 216 Hours Until Lift Off...
In 192 hours, on May 1st, 2005, I'm 25 years old. That's water under the bridge. I know that shit's happening whether I want it to or not, and I'm determined to age gracefully. We all know that once you hit 40, age starts to go backwards. (Sure it does, Linds.) The bonus of turning 25 is that I had to renew my Identification. (FINALLY! God I hated that picture of me!) In 216 hours (give or take) I'm on a plane, with a brief stopover in Salt Lake City, Utah. Then to my final destination; Dallas Ft. Worth International. For my ever so long stay of four days, of which I'm torn between grumbling over, since I'd like to stay a little longer (I'm greedy, okay?) and thinking it's a mixed blessing since I know he won't get tired of me quickly. (These are my own neuroses, get your own!) and peaking his curiosity. He knows me fairly well though.
To say I'm nervous is an understatement. This is a little over two years worth of waiting to meet someone that I feel like I've known for my entire life and that I have a huge amount of things in common with. (And a huge amount of things NOT in common with...)
Am I going into it with expectations? Hrm... Well, sort of? I can't say no, because I would be lying.
Am I expecting it to be a fantastic union of souls, where I find someone that I've been longing for, for ages, and the moment our lips meet, we'll be inseparable? Perhaps, but it's nowhere near a definite, and highly unlikely. I know how annoying I can be, when I annoy myself.
Am I terrified that the person he sees isn't going to be the person he wants? Hell Yes.
Is that an unjustifiable fear that I have because I'm (more than) a little neurotic? Yessireebob.
Do I doubt myself ad infinitum, when I should just be confident, and relaxed? Uhuh.
And can I help it? Nope, not really.
To say I'm nervous is an understatement. This is a little over two years worth of waiting to meet someone that I feel like I've known for my entire life and that I have a huge amount of things in common with. (And a huge amount of things NOT in common with...)
Am I going into it with expectations? Hrm... Well, sort of? I can't say no, because I would be lying.
Am I expecting it to be a fantastic union of souls, where I find someone that I've been longing for, for ages, and the moment our lips meet, we'll be inseparable? Perhaps, but it's nowhere near a definite, and highly unlikely. I know how annoying I can be, when I annoy myself.
Am I terrified that the person he sees isn't going to be the person he wants? Hell Yes.
Is that an unjustifiable fear that I have because I'm (more than) a little neurotic? Yessireebob.
Do I doubt myself ad infinitum, when I should just be confident, and relaxed? Uhuh.
And can I help it? Nope, not really.
Friday, April 22, 2005
"Hey Linds, I've Got A Question For You."
Me: "Yeah, what's up Allan?"
Allan: "Can you turn me into a Metrosexual?"
Me: *Brief pause on my end of the phone.* "I thought you liked chicks already, Allan?"
Allan: "No, no, no... I mean yeah! I do like chicks, but..."
Me: "I'm teasing. I can help you, but I've got one question. Why? What's wrong with you now that brings about this sudden desire to look different?" (Okay, it was two questions, sue me.)
Allan: "I wanna be one of those guys that makes girls turn their heads and think 'Wow, he looks like a somebody.'"
Me: "Jesus, you already ARE a somebody, Allan, but I know what you mean. Sure I can help you. What's your approximate spending allowance?"
Allan: "Oh, I dunno. I'm thinking around a grand?"
Me: *Glee at the thought of spending a grand on clothes, even if they aren't for me.* "Wow, you want me to help you spend a grand buying clothes?"
Allen: "Clothes... like jeans, shirts and stuff, (Sweet jesus! Can I have that man!?) plus some shoes, and I really want a leather jacket."
Me: *Ideas of where to go, and what to get running through my head at light speed.* "That's do-able. Why me?"
Allan: "Because you know what a nicely dressed man looks like. You've dated like what? A hundred of them?"
Me: "Hey, hey, hey! Play nice, or I'll make you wear something puse green..."(Fuck, that's one ugly purse.)
That's a small segment of the conversation I had with my friend Allan a few months ago, when he asked me to turn him into a "Metrosexual". Now, Allan is a nice looking fella. He dated one of my best friends for a little over a year and we're pretty close. (Not in that sense.) Yeah, his wardrobe could use a tune up. It's all fine and dandy to wear khaki's and polo shirts, but not every day for the past six years. It's a veritable uniform for him. So on Sunday, I'm dragging him around the mall, and playing dress up with him. The best part of spending a grand dressing up a friend to make him look sharp? I get paid to do it. Nice. I'm going to try to con him into buying some cologne too, since every girl, regardless of race, religion or creed, LOVES a man that smells yummy. (Unless they have that unfortunate allergy to scents.) Maybe some Dolce and Gabanna for Men.
You have to understand, it doesn't matter to ME what he dresses like. I appreciate Allan exactly the way he is, in khaki's and a polo shirt, or dressed in Diesel jeans and Prada athletic shoes. I'm not a fashion snob, and I certainly can't afford to waltz around carrying one of those godawful Louis Vuitton purses that is the rage at the moment, that is too small to hold my cell phone, my cigarettes and my wallet at one time. I would never criticize the way he dresses, since he's comfortable.
However, that being said, I can totally sympathize with wanting to be more attractive to the opposite sex, and being female, I'm often stuck in a situation where I'm wondering if I look bad in something I'm wearing. Fashion is so short lived that it recreates itself every 60 days. I'm going to try to pick items that are relatively timeless, so that he can wear them for a while and not look like a dud, so to speak. Hence my dislike of the reemergence of things like legwarmers and teased bangs, a horrible flashback to the 80s that should have never been revisited. It was as much a flash in the pan this time around, as it was the last time.
Some days, I lead an interesting life.
Allan: "Can you turn me into a Metrosexual?"
Me: *Brief pause on my end of the phone.* "I thought you liked chicks already, Allan?"
Allan: "No, no, no... I mean yeah! I do like chicks, but..."
Me: "I'm teasing. I can help you, but I've got one question. Why? What's wrong with you now that brings about this sudden desire to look different?" (Okay, it was two questions, sue me.)
Allan: "I wanna be one of those guys that makes girls turn their heads and think 'Wow, he looks like a somebody.'"
Me: "Jesus, you already ARE a somebody, Allan, but I know what you mean. Sure I can help you. What's your approximate spending allowance?"
Allan: "Oh, I dunno. I'm thinking around a grand?"
Me: *Glee at the thought of spending a grand on clothes, even if they aren't for me.* "Wow, you want me to help you spend a grand buying clothes?"
Allen: "Clothes... like jeans, shirts and stuff, (Sweet jesus! Can I have that man!?) plus some shoes, and I really want a leather jacket."
Me: *Ideas of where to go, and what to get running through my head at light speed.* "That's do-able. Why me?"
Allan: "Because you know what a nicely dressed man looks like. You've dated like what? A hundred of them?"
Me: "Hey, hey, hey! Play nice, or I'll make you wear something puse green..."(Fuck, that's one ugly purse.)
That's a small segment of the conversation I had with my friend Allan a few months ago, when he asked me to turn him into a "Metrosexual". Now, Allan is a nice looking fella. He dated one of my best friends for a little over a year and we're pretty close. (Not in that sense.) Yeah, his wardrobe could use a tune up. It's all fine and dandy to wear khaki's and polo shirts, but not every day for the past six years. It's a veritable uniform for him. So on Sunday, I'm dragging him around the mall, and playing dress up with him. The best part of spending a grand dressing up a friend to make him look sharp? I get paid to do it. Nice. I'm going to try to con him into buying some cologne too, since every girl, regardless of race, religion or creed, LOVES a man that smells yummy. (Unless they have that unfortunate allergy to scents.) Maybe some Dolce and Gabanna for Men.
You have to understand, it doesn't matter to ME what he dresses like. I appreciate Allan exactly the way he is, in khaki's and a polo shirt, or dressed in Diesel jeans and Prada athletic shoes. I'm not a fashion snob, and I certainly can't afford to waltz around carrying one of those godawful Louis Vuitton purses that is the rage at the moment, that is too small to hold my cell phone, my cigarettes and my wallet at one time. I would never criticize the way he dresses, since he's comfortable.
However, that being said, I can totally sympathize with wanting to be more attractive to the opposite sex, and being female, I'm often stuck in a situation where I'm wondering if I look bad in something I'm wearing. Fashion is so short lived that it recreates itself every 60 days. I'm going to try to pick items that are relatively timeless, so that he can wear them for a while and not look like a dud, so to speak. Hence my dislike of the reemergence of things like legwarmers and teased bangs, a horrible flashback to the 80s that should have never been revisited. It was as much a flash in the pan this time around, as it was the last time.
Some days, I lead an interesting life.
SHE ASKED FOR IT!!!
The Jewish Princess' lurvely bosom. Hey, I'm not randomly posting knockers, this was a request. Never mind the fact that I was giggling like an idiot after taking the picture, and continue to snigger whenever I see it. I'm such a shit, but Gad, that's funny.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
A Tourist In Your Own City...
It's come to my attention recently, that I haven't experienced a few things in Vancouver. Even though I've lived here for 24.5 of my almost 25 years. (Minus a stint in NYC writing for a newspaper and touring the US giving speeches on feminism.)
I realized, that I've never seen Granville Island Market. Ever. I don't even know where it is, for gods sakes. I've only been to Port Coquitlam twice, and White Rock/Crescent Beach about five times. I've never seen the Abbotsford Air Show, and I've only gone to the Pacific National Exhibition about six times in my entire life. I've been to Lynn Valley three times, and North Vancouver a grand total of about 20 times. That's shocking in a way. I wonder how many other people have never explored their own cities? How the hell have I lived here for such a long period of time, and never ventured to these places? It's stupid things like this, that run through my head, and I wonder if I'm missing out... I suppose there's only one way to find out, and that's to go there, and be a tourist in my own city. Perhaps it will let me see this place, which I'm getting tired of in a different light. (I still love it, but there has to be something more out there... Right?)
I realized, that I've never seen Granville Island Market. Ever. I don't even know where it is, for gods sakes. I've only been to Port Coquitlam twice, and White Rock/Crescent Beach about five times. I've never seen the Abbotsford Air Show, and I've only gone to the Pacific National Exhibition about six times in my entire life. I've been to Lynn Valley three times, and North Vancouver a grand total of about 20 times. That's shocking in a way. I wonder how many other people have never explored their own cities? How the hell have I lived here for such a long period of time, and never ventured to these places? It's stupid things like this, that run through my head, and I wonder if I'm missing out... I suppose there's only one way to find out, and that's to go there, and be a tourist in my own city. Perhaps it will let me see this place, which I'm getting tired of in a different light. (I still love it, but there has to be something more out there... Right?)
The Jewish Princess
Vogue. Strike a pose. She was actually putting her hair up, but I liked the drama in this picture. Great Marilyn Monroe eyes.
All that, And A Cherry On Top.
Elizabeth ordered Sex On the Beach. She gave me the stem, and I tied it in a knot in about ten seconds. Impressive, considering how looped I was.
That's a hot picture.
That's a hot picture.
Damn! I got a run!
As the evening progressed, my skirt seemed to get shorter, and shorter. So did my attention span regarding how short it was getting. Though I love this picture. I have a carnal, obsessive addiction to nice lingerie, and I was mildly distressed that I got a run in a new pair of thigh highs.
If I Hide Behind THIS No One Will See Me!
I am becoming one with the Vodka. Ohm... Actually I was so warm (Alcohol has a tendency to do that to me, amongst other things) that I was trying to cool off.
Doug and Linds
The Karaoke host, Doug, is a great singer, often doing Barry White (which gets the girls hooting and hollering) and various assorted Motown stuffs. I always sing some Aretha Franklin for him.
I've got enough for ONE MORE drink!!
Very inebriated, digging through the twenty dollars I must have in change, since I'm tired of breaking 20 dollar bills. That's about seven dollars in my hand alone right there, thanks to the one (loonies) and two dollar (Toonies) coins we have up here.
What? Me? Inebriated? Never!
Halfway through the night, on my lovely journey to oblivion via Smirnoff Ice.
I'm a poster child for the 80s!!
Lookit that hair. Sweet jesus. I think my hairdresser had a little too much fun with that razoring effect, either that, or I don't know how to style it the way she does. *grumbles*
Gams!
On the way to meet TJP at the skytrain so we can go celebrate her engagement ring arriving from Israel.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
A New Addition...
Nope, I'm not talking about the cheesy 80s band, (apologies, I realize that was a REALLY bad play on words.) I'm talking about the banner up top. Yup. I know that I brag occasionally but I really, really like it.
Yes, that is a pair of shoes I own, (apologies in advance for the shitty picture resolution -- Monkey, that is one of the pairs of 1940's stilettos I seem to accumulate) and I felt like a geek sitting here, tracing out the shape of them in Illustrator. However, on the whole, I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Whee. Fun.
Yes, that is a pair of shoes I own, (apologies in advance for the shitty picture resolution -- Monkey, that is one of the pairs of 1940's stilettos I seem to accumulate) and I felt like a geek sitting here, tracing out the shape of them in Illustrator. However, on the whole, I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Whee. Fun.
Hee Hee!!
I've got footage! All I know is that the grin on my face won't go away. WAY TO GO DEVIN!! I'm super proud of you.
music, food, smoking allowed
I had a little fun changing around the rules and regulations sign on the bus. Why does transit decide to ruin ALL the fun in public transit? Come on, no ice cream and ghetto boom boxes? Shit, live it up, Translink.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
A Little Kindness Never Hurt Anybody.
Music of the Moment: Norah Jones Artist's Choice, from Hear music (Fantastic Starbucks compilation of Jazz and bluegrass)
Aretha Franklin -- "I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Loved You)" from the album "Aretha's Best -- The 1960s"
Sometimes you have to tell yourself, that no matter how mired down in your own depression you can get, that making someone else smile, or helping someone else out when you're at your lowest point, can make life worthwhile. I'm still trying to believe that some days myself. I know that even though I'm down right now, I have to repeat in my head, over and over again that I'm not as alone as I feel, and that I have my friends.
I don't know what brought upon this sudden overwhelming feeling of weepy-ness... I wish I could figure it out. Perhaps it's that I'm talking to a new friend on Yahoo who is from Iran, and unlike many of the men that message me on Y!messenger, he actually has the desire to have a conversation with me, instead of trying to talk dirty to me. Refreshing, indeed. Although he did compliment me, he didn't dwell on it, more emphasizing the fact that he was enjoying talking to me because it gave him a chance to exercise his skills at English, and I took that to heart, and had a conversation with him. I'm glad I did, since he opened my eyes to how solitary North Americans seem to live their lives. He told me how lonely he can get, and how he needs more practice after living here for almost 15 months, his spoken english isn't much better than his written. (However, his written English is better than some of the North American's writing/speaking I've heard/read.)
The thought that North American culture isolates individuals from other nations without a thought, lost in it's own muck of self absorbed rot, mildly disturbs me. I'm not going to get into a huge diatribe on this, because I don't have the energy, and I need to have a shower before I go for a long walk with Crystal (Because I always have my friends). That being said, it's definitely food for thought, and it gives everyone an opportunity to realize that they aren't the most important person on the face of the planet, and maybe if they looked outside themselves for a moment, and helped someone else along out of their lonliness, the world would be a better place.
The best and most beautiful things in the world can not be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. (Helen Keller)
Aretha Franklin -- "I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Loved You)" from the album "Aretha's Best -- The 1960s"
Sometimes you have to tell yourself, that no matter how mired down in your own depression you can get, that making someone else smile, or helping someone else out when you're at your lowest point, can make life worthwhile. I'm still trying to believe that some days myself. I know that even though I'm down right now, I have to repeat in my head, over and over again that I'm not as alone as I feel, and that I have my friends.
I don't know what brought upon this sudden overwhelming feeling of weepy-ness... I wish I could figure it out. Perhaps it's that I'm talking to a new friend on Yahoo who is from Iran, and unlike many of the men that message me on Y!messenger, he actually has the desire to have a conversation with me, instead of trying to talk dirty to me. Refreshing, indeed. Although he did compliment me, he didn't dwell on it, more emphasizing the fact that he was enjoying talking to me because it gave him a chance to exercise his skills at English, and I took that to heart, and had a conversation with him. I'm glad I did, since he opened my eyes to how solitary North Americans seem to live their lives. He told me how lonely he can get, and how he needs more practice after living here for almost 15 months, his spoken english isn't much better than his written. (However, his written English is better than some of the North American's writing/speaking I've heard/read.)
The thought that North American culture isolates individuals from other nations without a thought, lost in it's own muck of self absorbed rot, mildly disturbs me. I'm not going to get into a huge diatribe on this, because I don't have the energy, and I need to have a shower before I go for a long walk with Crystal (Because I always have my friends). That being said, it's definitely food for thought, and it gives everyone an opportunity to realize that they aren't the most important person on the face of the planet, and maybe if they looked outside themselves for a moment, and helped someone else along out of their lonliness, the world would be a better place.
The best and most beautiful things in the world can not be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. (Helen Keller)
I'm Sin-tastic!
The Dante's inferno test has banished you to the SEVENTH LEVEL OF HELL!
God damn it! Serves me right for that addiction to chocolate and sodomy!! Last time I was a level TWO! I'd rather be chillaxin with Helen of Troy and Cleopatra then some whiny ass pirates in level seven!
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
God damn it! Serves me right for that addiction to chocolate and sodomy!! Last time I was a level TWO! I'd rather be chillaxin with Helen of Troy and Cleopatra then some whiny ass pirates in level seven!
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | High |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Very High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Moderate |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | High |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | High |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Low |
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
Effing COMPUTER!!!
Music Of the Moment: Jamiroquai -- "Virtual Insanity" (Hah! Fitting!)
Craving of the moment: Godiva Semi-dark chocolate. (Fuck yeah.)
I'm very, VERY tempted to send Apple Electronics Inc. a very, VERY nasty letter. (And we all know how grouchy I can be in a letter when I'm pissed off about something.)
Devin's promised to look at my laptop when I go down to Dallas, and though I'd rather he be fiddling with something OTHER than my computer... If he can't fix it, NO ONE can. I just spent an hour trying to fix it myself, and it was no dice. (I'm not an idiot regarding computers, either.) If it STILL doesn't work properly, I'm going to go down to MacStation the first day back in town, stomping my foot daintily, tossing my hair about, and cursing like a trucker in one helluva temper tantrum. (Hey, if I can return a used envelope, I can get a new laptop. I'm that damned good.)
No, I've never returned a used envelope. Cut me some slack here people. A few friends tease me that I'm pretty damned convincing when I get down to business, however.
*Mutters profuse profanities*
I've realized, that the older I get, the more I'm like my father. Instead of cursing at the five strands of Christmas tree lights when they're all tangled nicely together, (I put mine in giant ziplocks, I learned from his mistake!) I curse at electronics when they try to thwart me. I'm surprised my laptop hasn't started smoking. At least I had an hour or so to clean my room while it was TRYING to fix itself. The dungeon looks smashing. Bah. Enough ranting.
By the way, Jerilyn!! Thank youuuuuu for posting a cute little girly on my guestmap! You guys have absolutely NO idea how tickled pink I get when someone posts on that thing. I do believe that I proclaimed mad, adoring love to Devin via Y!messenger (not unusual...) when he posted on there. *sighs* Sad little thrills, no? It gets me even MORE excited than when someone posts a comment. (Why that is, I couldn't possibly tell you. Stupid brain and it's reactions to things.)
Craving of the moment: Godiva Semi-dark chocolate. (Fuck yeah.)
I'm very, VERY tempted to send Apple Electronics Inc. a very, VERY nasty letter. (And we all know how grouchy I can be in a letter when I'm pissed off about something.)
Devin's promised to look at my laptop when I go down to Dallas, and though I'd rather he be fiddling with something OTHER than my computer... If he can't fix it, NO ONE can. I just spent an hour trying to fix it myself, and it was no dice. (I'm not an idiot regarding computers, either.) If it STILL doesn't work properly, I'm going to go down to MacStation the first day back in town, stomping my foot daintily, tossing my hair about, and cursing like a trucker in one helluva temper tantrum. (Hey, if I can return a used envelope, I can get a new laptop. I'm that damned good.)
No, I've never returned a used envelope. Cut me some slack here people. A few friends tease me that I'm pretty damned convincing when I get down to business, however.
*Mutters profuse profanities*
I've realized, that the older I get, the more I'm like my father. Instead of cursing at the five strands of Christmas tree lights when they're all tangled nicely together, (I put mine in giant ziplocks, I learned from his mistake!) I curse at electronics when they try to thwart me. I'm surprised my laptop hasn't started smoking. At least I had an hour or so to clean my room while it was TRYING to fix itself. The dungeon looks smashing. Bah. Enough ranting.
By the way, Jerilyn!! Thank youuuuuu for posting a cute little girly on my guestmap! You guys have absolutely NO idea how tickled pink I get when someone posts on that thing. I do believe that I proclaimed mad, adoring love to Devin via Y!messenger (not unusual...) when he posted on there. *sighs* Sad little thrills, no? It gets me even MORE excited than when someone posts a comment. (Why that is, I couldn't possibly tell you. Stupid brain and it's reactions to things.)
Monday, April 18, 2005
Road Trip. (Erotica)
You were driving down the interstate, with your girlfriend next to you in the car. It was supposed to be a day trip down to Iona Beach, and the weather wasn't cooperating all that much, but it wasn't raining. Yet.
She was humming idly to some tune on the radio, her hand on your upper thigh, and this was nothing unusual, but then she grazed her fingertips across the inside of your thigh. Your eyes met hers, and a slight smile crossed your lips. You shook your head, murmuring that it wasn't the best idea to get frisky while you had control of a 2500 pound vehicle going 85 miles per hour down the interstate.
She flashed you a smile, it's mirth reaching the depths of her eyes, and winked at you, sass evident in every action, and she didn't seem to find that all to terribly important. She had something on her mind, obviously. Not that you were complaining. Her clever fingers worked their way underneath the hem of the leg of your shorts, caressing the length of you, and you grew hard under her fingertips. You protested half heartedly, knowing that she probably wasn't going to go any further while you were driving. Her fingertips swirled around the head of your cock, and you shifted the best you could, so that she could access your hard-on easily.
To your surprise, she removed her hand, and undid the button at the waistband of your shorts, pulling your cock out fully and stroking it in long slow motions. Her slender, graceful fingers wrapped around your cock, and you moaned a little in the back of your throat. You always loved the feeling of her hand around you, and she always knew instinctively how to touch you.
"You like that, baby?" she whispered, and it was all you could do to focus on the road, and not lose yourself in the sensations coming from her skilled hands teasing your cock. One wrapped around the shaft of it, and one gently massaging your balls.
"God it feels so good..."
She leaned forward, and you felt the wet, warm heat of her tongue licking the head of your cock teasingly. It jumped, and she slid the length of it into her mouth, sucking it lightly, and then pulling off, her tongue licking you from base to tip, flicking that sensitive area at the front of the base of the head. Back down the entire length of it, taking you as deep into her mouth as possible, and sucking the entire way up your cock, sliding up and down, hot and hard. The entire risque element of this situation had you feeling like a wire too tightly wound.
"Oh.... oh baby..." You pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, suddenly feeling out of control, wanting to be inside of her slick, wet pussy. As soon as you stopped the car, she was climbing over the stick shift, and hiking her skirt up to her hips and pushing her thong aside, her breasts right in front of your face, the smell of her perfume, and the shampoo used in her long blonde hair intoxicating. You pushed her shirt up, and undid her front-clasp bra, cupping her lush breasts in your hands, and then taking a nipple into your mouth, teasing and flicking it with your tongue.
Her inhale of pleasure was nothing compared to yours as she impaled herself down the length of your cock, burying you in her body. She rode you feverishly, and you were torn, feeling so exposed, fucking her on the side of the road like this where anyone could drive by and see, and so exhilarated, so into the situation and the pleasure she gave you as she slid up and down the length of your cock.
Your hands slid around her waist, and you ground your hips up into hers. She was breathing hard, her lips parted, moist and tempting as she rode you hard and fast. You felt her getting tighter and tighter around the length of you, the slick wetness of her pussy driving you wild, and it was all you could do to not come NOW, and you knew that she was so close to cumming herself.
"Yeah, Ride it baby... Come for me." You whispered in her ear, and her pussy tightened even more, the pleasure of it all so sweet. Her breath coming fast, and little moans coming from her involuntarily. She came, a gasp of pleasure, hard and fast around your cock, the velvety warmth around your cock convulsing and you lifted your hips to drive your cock as deep as it could go, your head falling back, and cumming deep, deep inside of her pussy. Contented, you remained buried inside of her body, stroking her back gently.
"Let's go to the beach, babes." and all she could do was chuckle softly, kissing you on the forehead.
"Yeah, let's go."
She was humming idly to some tune on the radio, her hand on your upper thigh, and this was nothing unusual, but then she grazed her fingertips across the inside of your thigh. Your eyes met hers, and a slight smile crossed your lips. You shook your head, murmuring that it wasn't the best idea to get frisky while you had control of a 2500 pound vehicle going 85 miles per hour down the interstate.
She flashed you a smile, it's mirth reaching the depths of her eyes, and winked at you, sass evident in every action, and she didn't seem to find that all to terribly important. She had something on her mind, obviously. Not that you were complaining. Her clever fingers worked their way underneath the hem of the leg of your shorts, caressing the length of you, and you grew hard under her fingertips. You protested half heartedly, knowing that she probably wasn't going to go any further while you were driving. Her fingertips swirled around the head of your cock, and you shifted the best you could, so that she could access your hard-on easily.
To your surprise, she removed her hand, and undid the button at the waistband of your shorts, pulling your cock out fully and stroking it in long slow motions. Her slender, graceful fingers wrapped around your cock, and you moaned a little in the back of your throat. You always loved the feeling of her hand around you, and she always knew instinctively how to touch you.
"You like that, baby?" she whispered, and it was all you could do to focus on the road, and not lose yourself in the sensations coming from her skilled hands teasing your cock. One wrapped around the shaft of it, and one gently massaging your balls.
"God it feels so good..."
She leaned forward, and you felt the wet, warm heat of her tongue licking the head of your cock teasingly. It jumped, and she slid the length of it into her mouth, sucking it lightly, and then pulling off, her tongue licking you from base to tip, flicking that sensitive area at the front of the base of the head. Back down the entire length of it, taking you as deep into her mouth as possible, and sucking the entire way up your cock, sliding up and down, hot and hard. The entire risque element of this situation had you feeling like a wire too tightly wound.
"Oh.... oh baby..." You pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, suddenly feeling out of control, wanting to be inside of her slick, wet pussy. As soon as you stopped the car, she was climbing over the stick shift, and hiking her skirt up to her hips and pushing her thong aside, her breasts right in front of your face, the smell of her perfume, and the shampoo used in her long blonde hair intoxicating. You pushed her shirt up, and undid her front-clasp bra, cupping her lush breasts in your hands, and then taking a nipple into your mouth, teasing and flicking it with your tongue.
Her inhale of pleasure was nothing compared to yours as she impaled herself down the length of your cock, burying you in her body. She rode you feverishly, and you were torn, feeling so exposed, fucking her on the side of the road like this where anyone could drive by and see, and so exhilarated, so into the situation and the pleasure she gave you as she slid up and down the length of your cock.
Your hands slid around her waist, and you ground your hips up into hers. She was breathing hard, her lips parted, moist and tempting as she rode you hard and fast. You felt her getting tighter and tighter around the length of you, the slick wetness of her pussy driving you wild, and it was all you could do to not come NOW, and you knew that she was so close to cumming herself.
"Yeah, Ride it baby... Come for me." You whispered in her ear, and her pussy tightened even more, the pleasure of it all so sweet. Her breath coming fast, and little moans coming from her involuntarily. She came, a gasp of pleasure, hard and fast around your cock, the velvety warmth around your cock convulsing and you lifted your hips to drive your cock as deep as it could go, your head falling back, and cumming deep, deep inside of her pussy. Contented, you remained buried inside of her body, stroking her back gently.
"Let's go to the beach, babes." and all she could do was chuckle softly, kissing you on the forehead.
"Yeah, let's go."
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Goooooood Morning!!!
Okay, it's 2-ish in the afternoon. Whatever. Cut me some slack, I was up until six this morning.
Woken up abruptly this 'morning' by Aunt and Cousin, sauntering into "The Dungeon" without preamble/permission/a care in the world. They said the wrong password. I was tres grouchy. Hair looks atrocious today. Reminiscent of Pee-wee Herman, and Alfalfa from The Little Rascals. Not cool.
Apparently, my Grandmother has gotten a new jigsaw puzzle to feed her addiction, and true to form, what with catholicism being in the air cuz of the Pope dying and all. It's a 3000 piece puzzle of "The Last Supper". J.C. and his cronies, chowing down cuz Heyzeus is going to have one helluva bad day tomorrow.
The best thing about this situation? It glows in the dark. Oooo, I could say SO much, and when I read the box, it was all I could do from merely saying "Holy crap?! It glows in the dark?!" and not laughing until tears were running down my legs. That's damned funny.
Early props to Crystal, Who turns halfway to fifty tomorrow. Don't worry sister, I'm right behind you. May 1st is looming incredibly close, and I'm feeling the pressure already. Ugh.
Happy Birthday, Lady.
Woken up abruptly this 'morning' by Aunt and Cousin, sauntering into "The Dungeon" without preamble/permission/a care in the world. They said the wrong password. I was tres grouchy. Hair looks atrocious today. Reminiscent of Pee-wee Herman, and Alfalfa from The Little Rascals. Not cool.
Apparently, my Grandmother has gotten a new jigsaw puzzle to feed her addiction, and true to form, what with catholicism being in the air cuz of the Pope dying and all. It's a 3000 piece puzzle of "The Last Supper". J.C. and his cronies, chowing down cuz Heyzeus is going to have one helluva bad day tomorrow.
The best thing about this situation? It glows in the dark. Oooo, I could say SO much, and when I read the box, it was all I could do from merely saying "Holy crap?! It glows in the dark?!" and not laughing until tears were running down my legs. That's damned funny.
Early props to Crystal, Who turns halfway to fifty tomorrow. Don't worry sister, I'm right behind you. May 1st is looming incredibly close, and I'm feeling the pressure already. Ugh.
Happy Birthday, Lady.
Go take a peek.
I know, I know. It's five thirty am, and I'm STILL not in bed.
Bah! Whatever.
Creativity lurks in my brain at disgustingly odd hours of the day. I've been working on the HTML in THIS blog, as well as the new blog that Neurotic and I decided to collaborate on entitled 'Review THIS!' It's now up and running, so go by and send us some sweet, sweet lovins.
I'm going to bed!
Bah! Whatever.
Creativity lurks in my brain at disgustingly odd hours of the day. I've been working on the HTML in THIS blog, as well as the new blog that Neurotic and I decided to collaborate on entitled 'Review THIS!' It's now up and running, so go by and send us some sweet, sweet lovins.
I'm going to bed!
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Devinsonfire!
A little bit of fun with Devin's name in photoshop, because he's my hot potato. *grins*
Friday, April 15, 2005
They Fight Crime!
Hee hee! I was directed towards this Automatic crime fighting duo description generator. By far my favourite description is this:
Doesn't it make you wonder how much CRAP is out there on the internet just for people's amusement?
"He's a maverick zombie barbarian on the hunt for the last specimen of a great and near-mythical creature. She's an enchanted belly-dancing mechanic who dreams of becoming Elvis. They fight crime!"
Doesn't it make you wonder how much CRAP is out there on the internet just for people's amusement?
Another Plea For Bewbies...
Well, ladies. Time to step up to bat. Or step up to the camera, that is.
Remember when I wrote that piece a while back that was asking you girls to send a pic of your prodigious pair in to Cryptic and Stray to help get some funding to find the cure for breast cancer?
Well guess what? Cryptic got his cute little butt in gear, and "Monkey Melons" is up and running. Get up on it ladies. I'm including the main body copy in italics from my previous post, just to refresh your memory, because it's the night of the last day of term, and I'm a fucking zombie.
I should be out getting wasted, I was planning on going camping, but it ended up pissing down rain, and I don't feel like being soggy for the next two days, so I bailed. Yeah, I'm a pussy girl. I'm going to watch Encino Man (Don't even start making fun of me, you hear? There's nothing wrong with ogling a young, studly Brendan Fraser when I'm tired!) and happily, I'm not going to do anything else. The thought of not having homework, is pure bliss.
I digress... So, without further ado, here goes another plea for titties:
I'm going to let it all hang out, so to speak and admit that I'm helping champion a cause for the ever-so-gorgeous Cryptic.
He's asked me to be a recruiter for his "Bewbie" crusade.
Wait, wait... Don't roll your eyes at me! And don't click the "Next Blog" button quite yet. It's REALLY for a good cause. (Really, really!)
What Stray and Cryp have got up their sleeves is something clever, (on a receptive end of seeing LOTS of boobies for them) creative, and a very honourable idea at the same time.
I'll fully admit, that I did send a picture of my knockers to Cryp, but it was neither explicit, nor all too terribly revealing. Just sexy and suggestive. (Because, Damn! I've got nice tits!) Let me reiterate, that I am completely devoted to my sweetheart, Devin.
However, who am I to deny an adorable Aussie his request, and give the poor thing a few little thrills when he's got a sense of humour, (not to mention a body, Va-va-VOOOOOM! Hubba-Hubba!) and good morals and intentions to boot, even if this whole thing did start as a little bit of a male-oriented, bewbie-obsessed, perve-fest, met with skepticism from the majority of female readers. Coming FROM a female, I'm sure it's a bit more palatable.
These bewbie oriented shenanigans have developed into something with quite a socially acceptable motive behind it. Stray and Cryp have decided to donate cashola from their own pockets, through a publicly viewable PayPal account. (This means it's viewable to ensure they are following through on what they say they will do.) All of the proceeds go towards helping find a cure for Breast Cancer. This applies for every picture received from the gals that regularly read Don't Feed The Monkeys, and any girlfriends of those gals that decide to play along with the game and email the boys with a little bit (or a lot, depending on how amply you've been endowed) of bosom-y goodness. It doesn't have to be explicit, it can be fun, and lighthearted, because Lawd only knows that the world needs more laughter.
It's also requested, if you're so inclined, to scrawl "Don't Feed The Monkeys" across your cleavage. It's not neccessary, but fun with a lipliner, and a phenominal skill at writing backwards while looking into a mirror, I'm sure.
These pics will be posted in a "Monkey Melons" gallery (unless asked specifically to NOT be posted) However, complete anonymity is promised. These boys play fair.
It's Bewbies for boobies, so to speak, and there is NO risk to your reputation for sending them in.
I, for one, am completely unashamed to send in a pic of my peaks, to help out those that might lose them because of this terrifying, life-threatening disease. It's a mix of playful, and Karma. (Which I seem to be fixated on, ad-nauseum.) Though cancer runs in my family, so perhaps I've got personal motives as well.
So, that's the lowdown. I'm sending out my war call, my most supreme challenge, to all the ladies in the hizzhouse. Email in a pic of your pair, to Cryptic or Straynjer at dontfeedthemonkeys.com and help fund finding the cure for Breast Cancer.
Set up those cameras, and "Release the hounds, Smithers!"
Come on. Be a sport. It's for a good cause; and as a bonus, it makes Cryp and Stray deleriously happy. (And who DOESN'T like a happy pair of Australian mates!?)
*Shakes her head amusedly* Typical boys, but boys with their hearts in the the right place.
Remember when I wrote that piece a while back that was asking you girls to send a pic of your prodigious pair in to Cryptic and Stray to help get some funding to find the cure for breast cancer?
Well guess what? Cryptic got his cute little butt in gear, and "Monkey Melons" is up and running. Get up on it ladies. I'm including the main body copy in italics from my previous post, just to refresh your memory, because it's the night of the last day of term, and I'm a fucking zombie.
I should be out getting wasted, I was planning on going camping, but it ended up pissing down rain, and I don't feel like being soggy for the next two days, so I bailed. Yeah, I'm a pussy girl. I'm going to watch Encino Man (Don't even start making fun of me, you hear? There's nothing wrong with ogling a young, studly Brendan Fraser when I'm tired!) and happily, I'm not going to do anything else. The thought of not having homework, is pure bliss.
I digress... So, without further ado, here goes another plea for titties:
I'm going to let it all hang out, so to speak and admit that I'm helping champion a cause for the ever-so-gorgeous Cryptic.
He's asked me to be a recruiter for his "Bewbie" crusade.
Wait, wait... Don't roll your eyes at me! And don't click the "Next Blog" button quite yet. It's REALLY for a good cause. (Really, really!)
What Stray and Cryp have got up their sleeves is something clever, (on a receptive end of seeing LOTS of boobies for them) creative, and a very honourable idea at the same time.
I'll fully admit, that I did send a picture of my knockers to Cryp, but it was neither explicit, nor all too terribly revealing. Just sexy and suggestive. (Because, Damn! I've got nice tits!) Let me reiterate, that I am completely devoted to my sweetheart, Devin.
However, who am I to deny an adorable Aussie his request, and give the poor thing a few little thrills when he's got a sense of humour, (not to mention a body, Va-va-VOOOOOM! Hubba-Hubba!) and good morals and intentions to boot, even if this whole thing did start as a little bit of a male-oriented, bewbie-obsessed, perve-fest, met with skepticism from the majority of female readers. Coming FROM a female, I'm sure it's a bit more palatable.
These bewbie oriented shenanigans have developed into something with quite a socially acceptable motive behind it. Stray and Cryp have decided to donate cashola from their own pockets, through a publicly viewable PayPal account. (This means it's viewable to ensure they are following through on what they say they will do.) All of the proceeds go towards helping find a cure for Breast Cancer. This applies for every picture received from the gals that regularly read Don't Feed The Monkeys, and any girlfriends of those gals that decide to play along with the game and email the boys with a little bit (or a lot, depending on how amply you've been endowed) of bosom-y goodness. It doesn't have to be explicit, it can be fun, and lighthearted, because Lawd only knows that the world needs more laughter.
It's also requested, if you're so inclined, to scrawl "Don't Feed The Monkeys" across your cleavage. It's not neccessary, but fun with a lipliner, and a phenominal skill at writing backwards while looking into a mirror, I'm sure.
These pics will be posted in a "Monkey Melons" gallery (unless asked specifically to NOT be posted) However, complete anonymity is promised. These boys play fair.
It's Bewbies for boobies, so to speak, and there is NO risk to your reputation for sending them in.
I, for one, am completely unashamed to send in a pic of my peaks, to help out those that might lose them because of this terrifying, life-threatening disease. It's a mix of playful, and Karma. (Which I seem to be fixated on, ad-nauseum.) Though cancer runs in my family, so perhaps I've got personal motives as well.
So, that's the lowdown. I'm sending out my war call, my most supreme challenge, to all the ladies in the hizzhouse. Email in a pic of your pair, to Cryptic or Straynjer at dontfeedthemonkeys.com and help fund finding the cure for Breast Cancer.
Set up those cameras, and "Release the hounds, Smithers!"
Come on. Be a sport. It's for a good cause; and as a bonus, it makes Cryp and Stray deleriously happy. (And who DOESN'T like a happy pair of Australian mates!?)
*Shakes her head amusedly* Typical boys, but boys with their hearts in the the right place.
"Faerie/Ghost In The Woods" Wallpaper...
And a secondary gift to you guys. This one scored me an A plus in Photoshop, being an actual assignment. However, this time I know who to credit for the photographs, The photographer is Gary, and the images were from a local brush fire in his native Australia. (He's half of the monkey crew at "Don't Feed The Monkeys.")
Thanks Gary, for letting me play with your photographs, although once you saw the image I created, you couldn't figure out which pics I "borrowed". That is a true compliment from you.
You can download the 15 inch version here, if you're so inclined. (Again, right click on the image and save it to your hard drive.) However, I'm sorry to say that Flickr butchered the hell out of the one I posted on it, so I uploaded it to the portion of the server alloted to me from school.
Rest assured, there's nothing electronically fatal attached to either of these images, I don't have the means, or the interest to infect your computer with crap, when I usually have to fix all of my friends comps. (That, and I'm a total mac lover, so I really have no reason to do so.)
Technical information: Designed for a 15 inch widescreen flat panel display, resolution is (supposed to be) 1280 pixels by 854 pixels (give or take.)
It's a composite of three separate images, and ten layers in Photoshop, including several different layers with individual trees selected and pasted on them, a radial gradient that eminates from behind her, to give her an eerie glow, and the two front trees that frame the image. colours have been changed dramatically, to give the entire image a "blue" dark and dramatic look. I did this months ago, and right now, I'm so tired that I can't remember all of the steps.
It took me approximately three hours and eleven renders to meet my satisfaction, and I'm still not happy with it.
Thanks Gary, for letting me play with your photographs, although once you saw the image I created, you couldn't figure out which pics I "borrowed". That is a true compliment from you.
You can download the 15 inch version here, if you're so inclined. (Again, right click on the image and save it to your hard drive.) However, I'm sorry to say that Flickr butchered the hell out of the one I posted on it, so I uploaded it to the portion of the server alloted to me from school.
Rest assured, there's nothing electronically fatal attached to either of these images, I don't have the means, or the interest to infect your computer with crap, when I usually have to fix all of my friends comps. (That, and I'm a total mac lover, so I really have no reason to do so.)
Technical information: Designed for a 15 inch widescreen flat panel display, resolution is (supposed to be) 1280 pixels by 854 pixels (give or take.)
It's a composite of three separate images, and ten layers in Photoshop, including several different layers with individual trees selected and pasted on them, a radial gradient that eminates from behind her, to give her an eerie glow, and the two front trees that frame the image. colours have been changed dramatically, to give the entire image a "blue" dark and dramatic look. I did this months ago, and right now, I'm so tired that I can't remember all of the steps.
It took me approximately three hours and eleven renders to meet my satisfaction, and I'm still not happy with it.
"Lonely - In Love" Wallpaper...
I created this in my spare time, on a whim from an image I found online. Her pose reflected so much sadness, but the poetry beside it made it seem more like she was gathering strength inside herself.
I don't know who the original artist is, since the information about the artist did not accompany the image, and so I decided to keep the words that go along with it anonymous as well. If anyone recognizes the art in this, please let me know, so that I can accredit the image to that individual.
I don't know for sure if flickr screwed up the resolution aspect, when I uploaded it to the site. If you want to, you can download the wallpaper full sized (It's been scaled down to whatever percentage the window allows, but that is a full resolution image.) Just right click to save the image as a file onto your desktop.
Consider it my gift to you guys. My lovely, *very* appreciated readers, for tolerating me throughout my first term in design school, and all the bitching and moaning that commenced from it.
This is going to be one of my portfolio pieces for my developing Photoshop skills.
Technical information: This piece was originally designed for a 15 inch widescreen flat display with a resolution of 1280 pixels wide, and 854 pixels high.
The technique employed was kept relatively simple compared to the previous one, with only duplicating the image onto three layers of varying opacity, a radial knockout gradient from the upper left corner with a background image of the same creamy white that is in the image itself, and a gaussian blur of 20 pixels overtop, to soften the image and create a more ephemeral look.
The font is "brushscript" and the colour is the same burgundy red as her dress, with a very, VERY slight dropshadow.
I don't know who the original artist is, since the information about the artist did not accompany the image, and so I decided to keep the words that go along with it anonymous as well. If anyone recognizes the art in this, please let me know, so that I can accredit the image to that individual.
I don't know for sure if flickr screwed up the resolution aspect, when I uploaded it to the site. If you want to, you can download the wallpaper full sized (It's been scaled down to whatever percentage the window allows, but that is a full resolution image.) Just right click to save the image as a file onto your desktop.
Consider it my gift to you guys. My lovely, *very* appreciated readers, for tolerating me throughout my first term in design school, and all the bitching and moaning that commenced from it.
This is going to be one of my portfolio pieces for my developing Photoshop skills.
Technical information: This piece was originally designed for a 15 inch widescreen flat display with a resolution of 1280 pixels wide, and 854 pixels high.
The technique employed was kept relatively simple compared to the previous one, with only duplicating the image onto three layers of varying opacity, a radial knockout gradient from the upper left corner with a background image of the same creamy white that is in the image itself, and a gaussian blur of 20 pixels overtop, to soften the image and create a more ephemeral look.
The font is "brushscript" and the colour is the same burgundy red as her dress, with a very, VERY slight dropshadow.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Masik...
Masik. An abstract artist, was doing her thing in the downtown core of Vancouver. I love it when artists express themselves creatively in public. She had paint all over her, in her hair, on her face, and thumping dance music echoed off of the office buildings. I liked this photograph the most, out of the 50 or so I snapped of her, because it was one of the ones that showed the most motion.
I managed to talk to her assistant, and swap emails, after the artist had finished creating this gorgeous piece, and told her I would email a few touched up pictures to her so that they could use it on the Masik website. This painting will sell for 25 to 30,000 dollars at the very least. colours were not enhanced, light levels were balanced, and shadows were adjusted. That's the closest I can get it to capturing it in reality.
The inspiration is apparently a scenic view from Stanley Park, from what I could gather, and if you unfocus your eyes, and just look at it from a distance, you can see the mountains, and you can see the water. That's what I adore about abstracts, is that you can see anything you want in a painting, it all depends on your brain.
There's ALWAYS a bonus to having a camera on hand at all times.
I managed to talk to her assistant, and swap emails, after the artist had finished creating this gorgeous piece, and told her I would email a few touched up pictures to her so that they could use it on the Masik website. This painting will sell for 25 to 30,000 dollars at the very least. colours were not enhanced, light levels were balanced, and shadows were adjusted. That's the closest I can get it to capturing it in reality.
The inspiration is apparently a scenic view from Stanley Park, from what I could gather, and if you unfocus your eyes, and just look at it from a distance, you can see the mountains, and you can see the water. That's what I adore about abstracts, is that you can see anything you want in a painting, it all depends on your brain.
There's ALWAYS a bonus to having a camera on hand at all times.
And, It's Final.
It's due tomorrow and I'm not playing with it any more tonight. I might tune it up over my break in between terms, but this is the final project, admittedly not much different from the previous postings example, just nudged over, and with a black background.
Whee!
A Little Bit Of History...
(You have to click on Fabio to enter, by the way.)
This is my History of Design/HTML final assignment for term one, about 8/10ths finished, but I tossed it up on the server to see how it would look.
Granted, there aren't any cascading style sheets attached with it yet, designating where it's located in the browser window, but the background should be black instead of white, and the page should be centered. This link will only be up for a short time, (since I have to change the hell out of a few pages) so I'll repost it in the side bar when it's final.
Not too shabby for a first real attempt posting something from scratch. (And Hell yes, I'm proud of it. It took me about three weeks from the beginning of creative process up to this point. I worked my arse off.)
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Good God, She's Breeding!
*Sighs*
Britters, Britters, Britters.
Don't produce MORE progeny of the Federline, Please, pleeeeaaase!
I enjoyed the Britney/Christina/Madonna kiss attention grabbing nonsense, but please don't think that you're the first trio of women to play around for attention. I've seen much worse at the bar. (Hell, I've DONE much worse at the bar.) I enjoyed watching you become the slutty airline attendant/"Bond-ish" Girl (actually in that picture, it should be "Bondage" girl. Whoo...) in your catchy "Toxic" music video (I actually LOVE the concept behind that music vid, I'll admit that much.) Even though I most definitely despise you, indeed I do, I'm completely dissapointed that you've gone from semi-attractive (Though incredibly slow) coquette, and suddenly, you've sunk to the depths of white trash-o-rama becoming Lurleen-Jerlayne, country bumpkin, barefoot and preggers in the kitchen. However, it gives me GREAT fodder for posts such as these.
I'm all for popping out babies, (you've got the equipment after all) but when stupid breeds with stupid, (For instance, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lechey *shudders*) expect some idiot savant progeny. They'll be counting out "Jelly Belly" jellybeans(TM) in a jar to exact numbers in mere seconds, but unable to hold intelligent conversation, repeating themselves ala Rain Man. (Definitely, definitely 4538 jellybeans. Definitely.)
Congratulations are in order, however, that you've managed to keep this marriage lasting (approximately) over 65.333333333 times LONGER than your previous one.
Kudos.
(A special thanks to Cryptic, who's style of posting influenced this one. It wasn't intentional, but after linking the HELL out of this post to other pages, I thought, why not do it exactly the way he does today?)
Britters, Britters, Britters.
Don't produce MORE progeny of the Federline, Please, pleeeeaaase!
I enjoyed the Britney/Christina/Madonna kiss attention grabbing nonsense, but please don't think that you're the first trio of women to play around for attention. I've seen much worse at the bar. (Hell, I've DONE much worse at the bar.) I enjoyed watching you become the slutty airline attendant/"Bond-ish" Girl (actually in that picture, it should be "Bondage" girl. Whoo...) in your catchy "Toxic" music video (I actually LOVE the concept behind that music vid, I'll admit that much.) Even though I most definitely despise you, indeed I do, I'm completely dissapointed that you've gone from semi-attractive (Though incredibly slow) coquette, and suddenly, you've sunk to the depths of white trash-o-rama becoming Lurleen-Jerlayne, country bumpkin, barefoot and preggers in the kitchen. However, it gives me GREAT fodder for posts such as these.
I'm all for popping out babies, (you've got the equipment after all) but when stupid breeds with stupid, (For instance, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lechey *shudders*) expect some idiot savant progeny. They'll be counting out "Jelly Belly" jellybeans(TM) in a jar to exact numbers in mere seconds, but unable to hold intelligent conversation, repeating themselves ala Rain Man. (Definitely, definitely 4538 jellybeans. Definitely.)
Congratulations are in order, however, that you've managed to keep this marriage lasting (approximately) over 65.333333333 times LONGER than your previous one.
Kudos.
(A special thanks to Cryptic, who's style of posting influenced this one. It wasn't intentional, but after linking the HELL out of this post to other pages, I thought, why not do it exactly the way he does today?)
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A Sad Night In The City...
I've just gotten home, after a long emotional evening at the memorial for my long time friend, Noga Zuniga. My head hurts from supressing the tears I didn't shed, and my heart hurts, because I miss him already. I kept expecting him to walk through the doors of the rec center banquet hall, joining the rest of his friends, saying "Hey Guys, What's up?" However, I knew, sadly; that would not be the case.
It stands to mention, that there were approximately 100-150 people (I'm just hazarding a rough guess at the attendance.) at this sad and at the same time, joyous gathering, celebrating the life of a good friend. This proves the point that Noga was a decent, sweet person, who garnered the friendship and admiration of people who knew him, through his gentle demeanor and humble personality. He truly was a spectacular human being, even with the flaws, that everyone has.
His father gave the speech at the beginning of the memorial, and his description of his son was sweet, tinged with tremendous sadness. He brought to light a side of my friend that not a lot of people saw, and he also brought up his son's deep spiritual side. This was no shock to me, knowing his upbringing as a Jehovah's Witness; even though he had separated himself from the religious group about 5-7 years previously.
I'll wholeheartedly admit, I cried. Quite a few times. I think it hit me hard walking in those doors at the rec centre, recieving a memorial photograph, which showed him at his best, smiling, on the beach, holding a shell of some sort. (It's a spectacular photograph, that I'm going to scan and put in this entry within the next few days.) I started crying before I even entered the doors of the banquet hall, and I was glad I had the foresight to stuff my pockets full of tissue.
I was mildly surprised seeing this line up of people that were so different in outward appearance, from the "Club Kid" style hairdo's, to the people in semi-formal attire, looking as if they stepped out of the office and into the Rec Centre.
I saw people I haven't seen since I graduated Highschool, and if it were under different circumstances, it would have been one helluva party. Noga had mentioned to a few close friends, that he wanted the people attending his funeral, (if it ever occurred) to wear jeans and have skateboards on hand. Some people respected that request, which makes me smile to know he had friends that loved him so much.
There's a wake being held at his "second home" Myles of Beans, a coffee shop where he played chess, (which was one of his passions) and socialized with his many friends, located on Kingsway and the side street between Salisbury Street and Griffiths Street in Burnaby, on Thursday night, for anyone that missed his memorial.
I hope, in the deepest recesses of my heart, that he found the answers to the questions that he was always wondering about.
I hope that he found peace, because even though he was a wonderfully positive person, often encouraging those who had lost heart in themselves, he often had insecurities about himself.
I hope he's finally happy now that he's not stuck in this turbulent world.
It stands to mention, that there were approximately 100-150 people (I'm just hazarding a rough guess at the attendance.) at this sad and at the same time, joyous gathering, celebrating the life of a good friend. This proves the point that Noga was a decent, sweet person, who garnered the friendship and admiration of people who knew him, through his gentle demeanor and humble personality. He truly was a spectacular human being, even with the flaws, that everyone has.
His father gave the speech at the beginning of the memorial, and his description of his son was sweet, tinged with tremendous sadness. He brought to light a side of my friend that not a lot of people saw, and he also brought up his son's deep spiritual side. This was no shock to me, knowing his upbringing as a Jehovah's Witness; even though he had separated himself from the religious group about 5-7 years previously.
I'll wholeheartedly admit, I cried. Quite a few times. I think it hit me hard walking in those doors at the rec centre, recieving a memorial photograph, which showed him at his best, smiling, on the beach, holding a shell of some sort. (It's a spectacular photograph, that I'm going to scan and put in this entry within the next few days.) I started crying before I even entered the doors of the banquet hall, and I was glad I had the foresight to stuff my pockets full of tissue.
I was mildly surprised seeing this line up of people that were so different in outward appearance, from the "Club Kid" style hairdo's, to the people in semi-formal attire, looking as if they stepped out of the office and into the Rec Centre.
I saw people I haven't seen since I graduated Highschool, and if it were under different circumstances, it would have been one helluva party. Noga had mentioned to a few close friends, that he wanted the people attending his funeral, (if it ever occurred) to wear jeans and have skateboards on hand. Some people respected that request, which makes me smile to know he had friends that loved him so much.
There's a wake being held at his "second home" Myles of Beans, a coffee shop where he played chess, (which was one of his passions) and socialized with his many friends, located on Kingsway and the side street between Salisbury Street and Griffiths Street in Burnaby, on Thursday night, for anyone that missed his memorial.
I hope, in the deepest recesses of my heart, that he found the answers to the questions that he was always wondering about.
I hope that he found peace, because even though he was a wonderfully positive person, often encouraging those who had lost heart in themselves, he often had insecurities about himself.
I hope he's finally happy now that he's not stuck in this turbulent world.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
"Six Camay, Very Moist."
No, I didn't write this, but it's damned funny.
The following letters were taken from an actual incident between a London hotel and one of it's guests. The Hotel submitted the letters to the London Sunday Times for their humor column.
Dear Maid,
Please do not leave any more of those little bars of soap in my bathroom since I have brought my own bath-sized Dial. Please remove the six unopened little bars from the shelf under the medicine chest and another three in the shower soap dish. They are in my way.
Thank you,
S. Berman
Dear Room 635,
I am not your regular maid. She will be back tomorrow, Thursday, from her day off. I took the 3 hotel soaps out of the shower soap dish as you requested. The 6 bars on your shelf I took out of your way and put on top of your Kleenex dispenser in case you should change your mind. This leaves only the 3 bars I left today which my instructions from the management is to leave 3 soaps daily. I hope this is satisfactory.
Kathy, Relief Maid
Dear Maid - I hope you are my regular maid.
Apparently Kathy did not tell you about my note to her concerning the little bars of soap. When I got back to my room this evening I found you had added 3 little Camays to the shelf under my medicine cabinet. I am going to be here in the hotel for two weeks and have brought my own bath-size Dial so I won't need those 6 little Camays which are on the shelf. They are in my way when shaving, brushing teeth, etc. Please remove them.
S. Berman
Dear Mr. Berman,
My day off was last Wed. so the relief maid left 3 hotel soaps which we are instructed by the management. I took the 6 soaps which were in your way on the shelf and put them in the soap dish where your Dial was. I put the Dial in the medicine cabinet for your convenience. I didn't remove the 3 complimentary soaps which are always placed inside the medicine cabinet for all new check-ins and which you did not object to when you checked in last Monday. Please let me know if I can of further assistance.
Your regular maid,
Dotty
Dear Mr. Berman,
The assistant manager, Mr. Kensedder, informed me this morning that you called him last evening and said you were unhappy with your maid service. I have assigned a new girl to your room. I hope you will accept my apologies for any past inconvenience. If you have any future complaints please contact me so I can give it my personal attention. Call extension 1108 between 8AM and 5PM.Thank you.
Elaine Carmen
Housekeeper
Dear Miss Carmen,
It is impossible to contact you by phone since I leave the hotel for business at 7:45 AM and don't get back before 5:30 or 6PM. That's the reason I called Mr. Kensedder last night. You were already off duty. I only asked Mr. Kensedder if he could do anything about those little bars of soap. The new maid you assigned me must have thought I was a new check-in today, since she left another 3 bars of hotel soap in my medicine cabinet along with her regular delivery of 3 bars on the bath-room shelf. In just 5 days here I have accumulated 24 little bars of soap. Why are you doing this to me?
S. Berman
Dear Mr. Berman,
Your maid, Kathy, has been instructed to stop delivering soap to your room and remove the extra soaps. If I can be of further assistance, please call extension 1108 between 8AM and 5PM.Thank you,
Elaine Carmen,
Housekeeper
Dear Mr. Kensedder,
My bath-size Dial is missing. Every bar of soap was taken from my room including my own bath-size Dial. I came in late last night and had to call the bellhop to bring me 4 little Cashmere Bouquets.
S. Berman
Dear Mr. Berman,
I have informed our housekeeper, Elaine Carmen, of your soap problem. I cannot understand why there was no soap in your room since our maids are instructed to leave 3 bars of soap each time they service a room. The situation will be rectified immediately. Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience.
Martin L. Kensedder
Assistant Manager
Dear Mrs. Carmen,
Who the hell left 54 little bars of Camay in my room? I came in last night and found 54 little bars of soap. I don't want 54 little bars of Camay. I want my one damn bar of bath-size Dial. Do you realize I have 54 bars of soap in here. All I want is my bath size Dial. Please give me back my bath-size Dial.
S. Berman
Dear Mr. Berman,
You complained of too much soap in your room so I had them removed. Then you complained to Mr. Kensedder that all your soap was missing so I personally returned them. The 24 Camays which had been taken and the 3 Camays you are supposed to receive daily. I don't know anything about the 4 Cashmere Bouquets. Obviously your maid, Kathy, did not know I had returned your soaps so she also brought 24 Camays plus the 3 daily Camays. I don't know where you got the idea this hotel issues bath-size Dial. I was able to locate some bath-size Ivory which I left in your room.
Elaine Carmen
Housekeeper
Dear Mrs. Carmen,
Just a short note to bring you up-to-date on my latest soap inventory. As of today I possess:
- On the shelf under medicine cabinet - 18 Camay in 4 stacks of 4 and 1 stack of 2.
- On the Kleenex dispenser - 11 Camay in 2 stacks of 4 and 1 stack of 3.
- On the bedroom dresser - 1 stack of 3 Cashmere Bouquet,
- 1 stack of 4 hotel-size Ivory, and 8 Camay in 2 stacks of 4.
- Inside the medicine cabinet - 14 Camay in 3 stacks of 4 and 1 stack of 2.
- In the shower soap dish - 6 Camay, very moist.
- On the northeast corner of tub - 1 Cashmere Bouquet, slightly used.
- On the northwest corner of tub - 6 Camays in 2 stacks of 3.
Please ask Kathy when she services my room to make sure the stacks are neatly piled and dusted. Also, please advise her that stacks of more than 4 have a tendency to tip. May I suggest that my bedroom window sill is not in use and will make an excellent spot for future soap deliveries. One more item, I have purchased another bar of bath-sized Dial which I am keeping in the hotel vault in order to avoid further misunderstandings.
S. Berman
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