Dear fido: I miss you.

I've got a lovely relationship with my mobile phone company back at home. All about the brand loyalty here people. The carrier I'm with in Bangkok? Not so hot. I was at MBK trying to deal with one of their reps and I'm not sure if their customer service is shit or English was the issue, it did not go well.

Note the time on the screengrab. It is 9:09 PM now and it's still reflecting the same balance. Let's see if I can post more pictures from the earlier points of the trip?

Oh dear.

It's been one of those weeks kids. One of those weeks.

Here I am on your bed again-- it's too big for the room it's in.

I had a meeting with my manager today. End of the fiscal year, start of the new quarter. You know the thing. I'm coming up to my one year anniversary at work and my manager wanted to go over my results, I remarked to her how crazy it is that I lasted this long. After an hour going over various boring, financial things as I was walking out of her office she turned to me and said I'm wasting my time. Wasting my time and "not fooling anyone," were her exact words I believe.

Not really what I wanted to hear on a Friday morning. I guess it capped off the craptacular week I'd been having though. This week has been one of the worst I've had in a really long time. Career-wise, personally, socially. You name it. Everything found a way to slightly unravel itself and in the process make me despondent. Every now and then I start getting that same feeling I got towards the last couple of years in high school, like I've outgrown things. The cliched big fish in a little pond. Bleh.

I'm still in a pretty foul mood right now, but I've gained a little perspective and Maybe if I try just a little more, I can take myself from this dirty floor*. Ever so often I forget about the things that ground me. The people in my life, the things that I do to make myself happy. I've drowned myself in music (and forgotten to scrobble. Oops), cleaned my room, walked the dog. Re-evaluated. Bummed? Still? You bet.

Anyways, the room. It's been cleaned, but when I was going through the recent purchases and acquisitions I had very little to show. Trying to curb the spending to save for my pending January vacation.



As much as I try to be good, shoes remain my vice. So the brown oxford shoes were showcased in a post of their own, these red and black plaid pumps are from Joe Fresh. 25 bucks, who can go wrong for that price?



Note the abject squalor in the background. What? I'm not ashamed. Bring it! Found that sweater vest for $10 at some super random store at Scarborough Town Centre. The turtle neck is one of Ammi's cast offs from the early 90s and no jokes I've been rocking that thing since I was like 11 easily. Is it like a crop top? Yes. That's why it's worn underneath things, duh! Oh, also, I got my haircut at Pacific Mall. I have bangs again!



Everyone needs a pair of mustard stockings and a Nescafe briefcase. Incidentally, I recently re-discovered that under my bed. I bought in in Senegal. Whenever I see it I think of Moussa, my driver when I was there. One day when I'm far less lazy I may tell you the story of how this briefcase came to be in my possession.



I had every intention of getting a blouse made from this material (it's the blouse piece off of a very kitschy sari), but I never got around to it. With the colder weather on us I've started rocking it as a scarf. Note Oliver's smouldering manly look though. I've read a measly 39 books on this list this list, I'm sure he's read all of them. The bastard.



There's a sari store just around the corner from where I live. Last weekend Abi and I, for lack of anything else to do, headed over that way just to "browse." I walked away with two saris. I love that store because they have really retro prints, we've sort of come to the conclusion that it's unintentional, but I don't really care because the stuff is very inexpensive. Which means I don't feel bad dropping cash on them. That one was $7.50. Abs hates it, I love the pink checks. It's okay though, she and I hardly ever agree on clothing options.



So alright, this one time Abi and I totally did agree on a clothing choice. That grey jacket. We are at Vaughn Mills sometime in September and both spotted the jacket, ran over to the rack, proceeded to try it on, looked at each other and laughed. Although we were wearing the same garment we had both individually styled it so different you could hardly tell that the jackets were the same. I had my collar popped up like a big douche, the buttons undone in the front and my hands jammed into the pockets. She however was buttoned up, fully. All the way up to the throat. That's my Abi!



My cousin's getting engaged in November. Most of you know the background on that whole thing. I don't particularly want to go to it, she's a major contributing factor to a lot of the stress we as a family have been dealing with for the last little while. That's also a whole 'nother post. Anyways, I thought I'd wear a sari for the engagement, but decided not to. This is the second one that I got, paid a princely $14.00 for it. I think it looks much better on Oliver. Again, the vintage print. I love it.

Well, I sincerely hope that next week turns out to be better than the one I just had.

*Lyrics shamelessly stolen from Band of Skulls who TinyLF and I will be seeing in concert November 13th

Oi! Get off my lawn.

I feel old. Some uncharitable people would go as far as saying that I am old. With the increase in weddings and birth announcements amongst a slew of other cringe worthy life events I think I'm headed for my mid-mid-life crisis. Although I have a sneaking suspicion I've been battling that since I turned 21. I'm not grappling with any huge existential questions though. I just feel old. Literally old and creaky.

Friday night I was supposed to head out and while I was waiting for my ride I thought sprawling on the sofa would be an appropriate use of my time. Until I woke up at 1 am with a crick in my back and a strong desire to throw my PJs on and crawl into my very inviting bed. Hmm. You can guess the ending of that story. I have officially become that person who really can't be arsed to go out. My work peeps have been harassing me for weeks, fortunately my excuse of 'being a student' is fantastic and usually even makes them sympathetic. I'm not entirely sure what ruse I'll have to put forth once my courses wrap up. Oh. Who are we kidding. I'm going to be a student for life.

Speaking of work, there's been some positive movements on that front and although things are still being tweaked, I may be finding myself a more frequent guest at HQ. This means I'll eventually need to invest in corporate drone-wear. I've been seriously making an effort to expunge the student from my wardrobe and I think I've done well?

There hasn't been a jeans purchase since August 2008. Sneakers? My true besetting sin? Been able to keep that beast at bay as of May 2008. Going shopping sucks now. (I lie! Retail therapy how I love thee!) I'm on a pretty strict self imposed budget. Between my fees, textbooks and pathetic attempts at saving there isn't really much cash left for clothing or sensible shoe purchases. It's hard though! When I see shoes my first immediate impulse is to think 'wow, those would look fantastic with my jeans in X wash.' Then I need to remind myself, 'but they'll look like total ass with dress pants/a skirt/a dress.' In the ideal world I'd still get the shoes if only to wear them on casual Fridays.

There are stores that I don't even venture into anymore. I can't even trust myself to browse to see what I'm missing out on. It's too depressing. The only cold comfort I have is that even in my age appropriate attire teenagers still stop me to say they like what I'm wearing. I feel the need to point out that these are savvy dowtown dwelling teenagers, not suburban ones.

But after a little incident in class this evening I'm not so sure how discerning these kids really are. I popped over to the bookstore before class and was subsequently a bit early for my lecture (because I always over estimate the amount of time it'll take to get things done). While flipping through my book a sweet looking girl came through the door, smiled at me and sat down a few seats to my left. Apparently she registered late and this was her first day. She started asking me questions about the class, how big, how many assignments etc.

We veered off topic (surprise!) and started talking about music. That's when my fellow classmates started to trickle in. As the room filled up she stopped talking about K'naan and asked me if this class? Is it intro to first year research methods? To which I laughed a hearty laugh and informed her that she was not in the presence of undergrads. She scrutinised the class a bit more and said 'yeah, there's no way in hell that these guys were ever undergrads in any life. They look like professors.' With that scathing judgement she picked up her shiz and got the hell out of there fast.

The lesson I'm choosing to take away from this tale of misunderstanding is that I'm a hip old person. (But still old because most of my classmates are around my age add or subtract a year or three.) That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Let's go home!

I haven't written a "real" blog post in awhile. Just don't seem to have the time these days between summer school, work and all the seasonal social obligations. The only time I can actually punch something out is when I'm on the subway. I've been pecking away at this for the last little while and I have no idea if I'll ever get around to finishing it, but it's a partially written post that was thoughtlessly written with my two thumbs on the iphone. I haven't read it over so you're warned...

More often than not these days our conversations around the dinner table always lead to the same thing: Ammi and Thathi retiring to Sri Lanka. I can't say that I'm completely opposed to the idea. The properties that they've been looking at are infinitely more conveniently located than where my grandmother lives. Plus centralised a/c is always ftw in gawdawful Colombo. Generally speaking though when the old couple appeal to me on important issues like proximity to other family members, 'hot spots' and wtf to do with the dog, my wont is to stare back blankly and blink a few times. This has rankled the old man into fits and caused Ammi her fair share of consternation as well. In their minds it would seem that Aiya and I don't give a shit what happens to them so long as they don't move in with either of us during their Golden Years. If I have the good fortune to have Aiya around (which these days is not the case due to the acquisition of a new femme) we will roll our eyes, hold our tongues and display a level of restraint hitherto unknown.

That all changed recently though. I was catching up on my feeds in the kitchen. I happened to start reading a blogpost that someone had written about the scattered Sri Lankan diaspora returning home. It was so asinine, ill conceived and ludicrous I couldn't help but read out a few of the more 'passionate bits' out loud for public ridicule. Ammi and Thathi responded in typical fashion. Mostly because they are generally aware of the writer's status as being an unbearable tosser and also because they don't really view themselves as being your run of the mill conflict-fleeing-Sri Lankans.

I suppose this is something I've meant to write about for some time and nevar could really be arsed to do. Most of you know in bits and pieces what I think and how I feel about the circumstances surrounding our migration as a family. I've never really sat down and gone through the whole thing in any cohesive manner so I guess this is as much for me as it is for you? In light of all the political events that have been unfolding it's unsurprising that I my thoughts on the subject are courted more frequently than in the past.

So here goes?

I'll start from the point that most people find relevant and I feel the need to add the disclaimer that not only do I personally feel it is irrelevant I also don't give a shit. In short, Thathi is Sinhalese and Ammi is Tamil. I know right? It's horrifying.

We lost our home in '83 due to this disgusting twist of fate. They found out that Ammi was Tamil through the voters list and our neighbours torched the house. We knew it was coming and our immediate family left to Thathi's parents place in Ratmalana. Amamma and Ammi's younger siblings weren't so fortunate. Amamma was a well known doctor in the area, her house was razed. She and Punchi mammah ended up in a refugee camp. My aunt saw the worst of it. She was on her way in from the city, saw people being burned alive. I know she used to sometimes wake up screaming from nightmares well into the 1990s. Obviously this is what happened to countless other Tamils in Colombo in 83 so it's really not that special. Needless to say that was the last year any of my Tamil family members ever voted.

Ammi says that one of her earliest memories as a child were houses burning and being hidden in a cupboard. She was very young when the first race riots broke out in the 50s. This whole being Tamil/Sinhalese thing was never an issue within our family, even at the point when Sri Lanka gained independence. My maternal grandfather wouldn't let his children speak Tamil at home and neither would my paternal grandfather. Actually scratch that, speaking the vernacular in either home was forbidden by both families by my great grandparents. I come from a long line of brown sahibs. Don't get me wrong though, I think both the Tamil and sinhalese sides would die if they were termed imperialists. My family were long time LSSP supporters and believed in a free independent Sri Lanka for all Sri Lankans.

I suppose it sounds so cheesey to say this now, but the older generation believed this with great vehemence. The next generation didn't quite get it right. At least not the Sinhalese generation. I learned what marginalization was from them when I made my first visit to Sri Lanka as a teenager.

Ammi's entire family eventually migrated either to Canada, Australia or the UK. I have no male Tamil family left except for 2 who married well established sinhalese women. We were originally slated to go to Australia. Ammi was petrified that we'd get killed for being half Tamil, it didn't make much sense for us to go but they put in their paperwork and Canada was the first to get back to us. In the 1950s my paternal grandfather nearly came to Canada with his young family. I think this was always meant to be our home.

The immigration officer who interviewed us tried to dissuade them from leaving. He didn't think they'd last more than six months in Toronto. Granted looking back my parents haven't got the foggiest clue as to how we made it. He was so intrigued by our family that he actually made a concentrated effort to keep tabs on our progress for close to 15 years. I think that he eventually made it to Cyprus and found himself a wife. That's when we lost touch with him. He's now actually a director in in the refugee and immigration department in Ottawa. It's a shame that Ammi's not as much of a pack rat as Thathi & I because she actually tossed out his letters.

Blurgh.

I'm feeling a bit muddled so advanced apologies for the following post. Don't judge me. It's not going to make much sense. My advice is to just look at the pictures?



The last week and a bit has seen me drag my ass out of bed in the mornings. Waking up has become decidedly more difficult in recent times. The stupid thing is that I can't sleep in past 9 AM on a Saturday morning anymore which leads me to perch with my laptop in bed to catch-up on work. Lame I know. Invariably this means Oliver manages to wriggle himself into prime laptop real estate rendering work impossible.



I've had that blazer since my first year of university. Got it for 10 bucks at Urban Outfitters in the "preloved" section. It's probably one of the cheapest things that's lasted the longest in my wardrobe. That scarf is a hacked up sarong that someone gave to Aiya thinking he'd wear. If I'm not mistaken it's from Kerala and is something called "digital" batik. Yeah, I don't know what that is either.



The above shade of blue is quickly becoming my favourite colour for this spring/summer. Aunty Esther got me that scarf for my birthday. Although it's hard to believe it looks much better on me than on Oliver. I prefer to not wear it as a burqa.



Most recent frivolous shoe purchase? Purple suede kitten heels for work. That scarf was the result of a Salvation Army rummage sometime near the turn of the last century.



Hey! Look! It's that shade of blue again. I've stopped just randomly going into stores for no reason because 1. pretty soon I will be broke (yay for school!) and 2. I have no self control.



Been rocking a lot of saris lately. This is the one I wore to Ann's wedding.



Got this one for 15 bucks. Ammi would never let me wear this for any kind of Sri Lankan-type function because um, it was 15 bucks and also it doesn't look like someone threw-up sequins all over it. It worked well for Labro's mom's 50th birthday though. (I know, I still can't get over how young her parents are either. Mine are such dinosaurs.) I love the print on it though. It feels so kitschy and I usually couple it with my Lee denim jacket with the collar popped.



Another 15 buck find. What? There was a sale. Haven't had a chance to wear this one yet, I'm thinking maybe this weekend for Labro's shower? I love the blue on this and again the kitsch makes me feel a bit squee. Alas the denim jacket will not work in this situation, the shades of blue don't go. I may need to buy gladiator sandals just to couple with it. Hmmm.



I spent most of today mucking about in the kitchen with tablecloths, bedsheets, random coasters and ramekins. I'm trying to figure out the best way to take pictures of v-manties bridal cakes, mini-cakes and cupcakes for her portfolio. Aiya picked up the cutest glass coaster sets from China town about three summers back to use outside for barbeques. Ammi is so paranoid that they'll shatter and break that they've never even seen the natural light of the sun.



He really is a good sport innit?



This February would have been Mamma and Pappa's 60th wedding anniversary. We had big plans for some sort of hoopla/family reunion, but Pappa had to go and die last year ruining all of that. This is an excerpt from the birthday letter I got from Mamma this year. You probably can't read it, but here's the important bit:

Well as for me, life is very lonely. I miss Pappa so much, I don't think I will ever get back to my former happy life. Though people say that with time life will change, I don't think it will ever be the same with me. Because ours was a very close friendship from school days and God created us for each other and he blessed us to be husband and wife. Our marriage was made in heaven and we were meant for each other. Pray for me putha to bear up this great loss..."

The story of how they hooked up is for another blogpost kids.



Speaking of grandparents though, I got a new pair of glasses that at some point in time all three of of my grandparents rocked. (The large picture is of Amammah that was taken a few months before she died and the wee one is of Mamma and Pappa just after he retired I think.)



Beginning of April is always a bit shitacular because it's the month Amammah died. You know I still have incredibly vivid dreams of her. I wake up thinking that she's alive and it feels so fantastic until I realise it's a dream. Those three books, A Tale of Two Cities, The Old Curiosity Shop and Bleak House were gifted to me by her the year I turned 10. I think I must have been in grade 4? I've got more than one copy of a Tale of Two Cities now because that original one is so tattered. That ghetto ass crocheted blanket that the books are sitting on top of is made up of leftover yarn. She used to knit for charity. Winter hats and mittens for the homeless along with baby things for low-income families. She was fantastic.



What kind of child reads Charles Dickens when they're 10? I was such a freaking nerd eh? Amammah encouraged my ridiculous reading habits and told me that any words I came across that I didn't know I should underline so that she could explain them to me in context. Not sure if she actually expected me to make it through a Tale of Two Cities or not but I carried my 2HB pencil around and made it a point to underline every single word I didn't know. This particular passage had "inexorable," "perpetuation" and "inscrutable" flagged as unknown. I still don't really know what "inexorable" means. (Those are Amammah's old reading glasses.) A Tale of Two Cities remains up there as one of my faveourite books.



When Aiya and I were really small Amammah used to make us a "white chicken curry," which was mild enough for us to eat. I don't know if other Sri Lankan homes functioned like this, but the general guideline at our place was if a meat curry was too hot for a child to eat then said piece of meat would be washed of all spices and given to non-spice eating child. This was terrible because the meat would lack all flavour. She used to make this for us as an alternative. I still get cravings for it and I can't make it exactly the way she did but the above is my vain attempt.

I wish she was still around.

Screenshot from my twitter account.

I was driving home last Sunday around 4:30ish from Debbie's place in some pretty heavy stop and go traffic. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, I was on the cusp of a rice coma and to prevent myself from falling asleep at the wheel I turned on the radio. Fortunately for me I was able to catch the tail end of the Strombo Show and he was previewing some tracks off of the new Decemberists' album, The Hazards of Love.

As I listened to "The Rake's Song" and mentally went over the day (I was dragged to a Bridal show), a Cheshire Cat type grin spread across my face. Of course I fully empathised with the narrator (despite not being 21 anymore *sob*). Ever since the general unwashed masses found out about Debbie's impending nuptials, Abi and I have started getting some crazy heat from all and sundry about "settling down." As I've mentioned in the past there's nothing unusual with that, but lately we're finding the renewed interest a bit harder to laugh off. Mostly because it's coming from people who should genuinely know better. Abi's a sweet, good natured person and you can generally guess how I, ever the commitmentphobe, have been dealing.

Alby was in town over the weekend for a few wedding related festivities and we got to talking about how last year this time I was in London. Being in a bit of a nostalgic mood here are a few journal entries from that time that've been in the vault.

March 4, 2008

It's amazing what can happen in a month.

Just over a month ago I was super stoked for my big move to London and my trip to Barcelona. Instead all the plans that I had and the way I had envisaged myself settling into this next phase of my life essentially got side swiped like a car at a T-junction.

Did a run to IKEA the other night with Thorn, probably didn't need to but I wanted things to feel a bit normal. Picked up some stuff to make my "room" a bit more habitable. I use quotes because I swear this place is smaller than my walk-in closet in Toronto. I felt lost last week, it's been years since I've felt that way.

Alby was totally aghast. God only knows what Labro would've done to me. Probably punched me in the face and told me to man up and find some balls. Just like how it's amazing what can happen in a month, I'm struck by how much has happened in a week. Tez witnessed The Panic which lasted give or take 2 days. But still, I don't panic to that degree ever. Things are starting to look up.

April 22, 2008

I have now worked at a grand total of 2 boutique ad agencies since coming to London. My lovely headhunter warned me ahead of time to brace myself for what would be an immense culture shock. Corporate whoring aside, working in London is a different beast altogether.

I have moaned and groaned about not being taken seriously because of my fluid identity time and time again. The weekend found thorn and I at a dingy club, unsurprisingly I was the only coloured person in the joint. Usually there's at least a token black person. Not this time. Some shitfaced cockney and one of his mates came up to us and in a vain attempt to pick me up asked me if I was black.

Yeah. Needless to say he didn't get very far.

And because the walk down memory lane didn't end there, here are some tweets (I feel like that's the only way to legitimise the above screenshot). Plus the vast majority of you wouldn't have even read this while they were happening since they're restricted. I hardly did any blogging while I was in the UK so here goes:

I have rediscovered twitter. less emo more happy!
6:40 PM Mar 25th, 2008 from web

I'm gainfully employed bitchz!
10:34 AM Mar 31st, 2008 from web

@drac I want to be intoxicated in some form or manner too! Just cashed my last lot of traveler's cheques. unpleasant.
12:45 PM Apr 1st, 2008 from web

@tezcat i'm wracking my brains trying to figure out the name of the green book on sustainable development is. Damn you Goodreads. Damn you.
5:12 PM Apr 1st, 2008 from web

I have eaten the best sammich ever. Who knew crumpets could be that good?
5:26 PM Apr 2nd, 2008 from web

Why is the washing machine making that noise? It's either going to flood the flat or burn it down. I will not be held responsible for either.
9:29 AM Apr 3rd, 2008 from web

Flatmate went drinking @ the tate+house party in the lower flat+really hot italians=a ditched Pula and fun times.
12:32 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

When asking about my Sat night plans the flatmate accused me of being the 'thinking man's nympho.' wtf indeed peeps. wtf indeed.
8:40 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

Correction: apparently it was actually the "cerebral man's nympho," because that makes it better.
9:08 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

I have a new British ghey bestfriend. weeee!
9:07 AM Apr 6th, 2008 from web

'Ah so that's what your initials stands for. I'm not going to be insulting & try to pronounce it'
5:56 PM Apr 6th, 2008 from txt

My new job sucks but is $ coming in. If 1 more person says I have a 'beautiful name' I may go Waco.
5:52 AM Apr 7th, 2008 from txt

flatmates are screaming "GOAL." Apparently there's a football game. I'm displeased. Trying to catch up on missed episodes of Project Runway
2:00 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web

@TinyLF "PENALTY, PENALTY" is being screamed at horrendous volumes.
3:28 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web in reply to TinyLF

the (football) hoodlums have no made it to the street.
4:08 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web

I'm headed 2 a funeral in Brixton & the Black Crows are playing the Sound Academy. Bleh.
6:53 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from txt

Checking out guys at a funeral is so tasteless. Please feel free to disagree. Anyone?
8:12 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from txt

I have been informed that i need to know about quantitative research methods for tomorrow. wtf! I'm an arts student, we don't know this shit.
5:27 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from web

Job interview #459285. "Bring your passport" they say. Am I going to be sold into slavery? Who knows.
9:48 AM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Another interview, another job offer, another "wtf a 1 year work visa?" another monumental PHAIL.
3:58 PM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Applying for jobs in Toronto while I'm in London. Decidedly teh weirdness. How the mighty have fallen etc.
9:43 AM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Gah. it has been a truly bipolar day. Interview at DDB London for an actual short term contract position.
12:18 PM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

The mater arrives at Heathrow in T -1hr15mins. Must get supplies.
12:53 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from web

Mater & the aunt are totally MIA. Only my family'll do this kind of shiz.
3:34 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from txt

Doesn't matter how old you are, having your mom around when things go to shit is awesome.
6:20 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from txt

Is there a soccer game tonite? Lots of hot boys in blue Chelsea jerseys
6:47 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

Half a glass of wine shouldn't make anyone this giggly. Gawd. I need new friends
9:06 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

Crazy bag lady screamed out 'go home paki' as I walked by. At least toronto homeless aren't racists. They are bitter though.
4:56 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

'Just print out your timesheet on the printer called "sausage."' How can I possibly keep a straight face?
11:31 AM Apr 15th, 2008 from web

ZOMG! Hottest guy in London sitting next to me on the tube & I look like total ass. Why God? Why?! /shakes fist.
2:41 PM Apr 16th, 2008 from txt

Frenchman, French novels and conversations in French. Bliss?
8:33 PM Apr 17th, 2008 from txt

The hordes of teenage girls at the Primark on Oxford St must die. Or maybe i'll just cut them all instead? Teh rage. I have it.
3:38 PM Apr 18th, 2008 from txt

Do I srsly need another pair of kickass over priced sneakers? Should I be buying 'grown up shoes?' Heels? Psylog?
4:39 PM Apr 18th, 2008 from txt

Non-English speaking flatmate ftw! 'how do you say a transformers?' 'dude you mean transexual?'
11:42 PM Apr 19th, 2008 from txt

What a flipping sausage fest. Cutest boy in da house 'i really like your trainers.' I made the right choice!
12:18 AM Apr 20th, 2008 from txt

Comparing me to a Postal Service song & then telling me you like beer? I'm in love!
12:32 AM Apr 19th, 2008 from txt

When did doing lines in the livingroom at 6pm on a Sunday become acceptable? I'm getting old.
^:18 PM Apr 20th, 2008 from txt

'Mind if I pop my stuff at the end of your thing while I go for a wee?' Damn you British people, don't you realise? Innuendo is everywhere!
11:04 AM Apr 22nd, 2008 from web

Perhaps I'm just actually a 12 year old boy?
11:04 AM Apr 22nd, 2008 from web

I'm always lost. Yet tourists come to me as if I know wtf I'm doing and where places are.
12:21 PM Apr 22nd, 2008 from txt

Why is it that in any part of the world Sri Lankan Airlines is always out to eff you over?
11:00 AM Apr 23rd, 2008 from web

Tube? I will not miss you. No. Srsly I won't. There's no hope for reconciliation.
3:25 PM Apr 23rd, 2008 from txt

Damn you lolcats. I no longer know how to spell MOAR.
9:18 AM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Wtf do Italian fiends always have to travel in packs of 20?! If I hear Napoli 1 MOAR time...
2:07 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

I hate taking all my gear to concerts. If you had any sense you'd know that my mac is low end, the camera is shit and not professional.
2:42 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

The camera lenses are crap too. This is why I don't have a press pass you idiots.
2:44 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Contact highs ftl! I have the munchies. Loud Americans! Always ruining good music for everyone.
3:45 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Is it totally pathetic that I keep thinking I see my toronto peeps everywhere because I'm so excited about going home? A bit?
10:40 AM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

ZOMG! Two geese are getting it on at St James park. I may throw up my sammich.
1:50 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

Murukku & spanish rioja ftw. That's the way to keep it classy.
11:45 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

Srsly you have to stop talking. No one cares. I don't want to hear about how you 'nearly scored' last nite. I was THERE & no you didn't.
11:53 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

No he doesn't love you & you've never done coke you've just met your 2 glass of quota of wine. Stop with the paint by numbers psychology.
12:47 AM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Chelsea fans everywhere. They've overridden the tube. As if this journey wasn't going to normally be painful enough.
2:11 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

There are cops all up in my hood because of the football rowdies. Hot men in uniform ftw!
2:26 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

So apparently that big structure that I can see from my window is the Chelsea grounds. All of a sudden things make sense.
2:58 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Goodbye London. You were an utter bitch but I'll still miss you.
11:13 AM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Toronto. It is good to be in your familiar embrace once again but why does it still feel like winter?! And you feel a bit distant.
9:19 AM Apr 27th, 2008 from txt

/fin

They flashed a photograph, it couldn't be you.

I was taking one of my last Canadian policy pre-req courses and was meandering over to the Toronto Reference Library from the subway station. Somehow thorn and I had managed to get our paws on an early release of Picaresque and I was lost in the music. It was 2005 and my God, looking at that date I can't believe that it's been four years. That album is still very much in heavy rotation on my ipod.

I still want to get a running start, grab a 2x4 and go apeshit on that pretentious, shit head of a kid who was just about 3 months into one of the most defining years of her life. You see, lately I have been looking back at not just this last year but life in general. The things I imagined myself doing four years ahead of time in March 2005 couldn't be any different than what I'm doing now.

Not only do I work in the financial sector, I actually sort of like it. This is something that would have horrified me four years ago. If I had gotten any inclination of this back then, I'm sure I would've killed myself. The problem that I'm having is trying to explain this to my friends. Lovely, wonderful people who mean so much to me but just don't get it. The snapshot of me now is utterly unrecognisable to the person they used to know. I haven't really been around all that much. Come to think of it, except for 2004 the last 12 years hasn't seen me rooted in Toronto for 12 months at a stretch. I feel that's partially the reason why my inner circle of peeps recall a person who is wildly different from who I've become.

The choice to stick it out in Toronto was a tough one to make last July but I thought it was for the best. The initial reaction from most people was, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" It felt good to turn down that London job offer (not enough money! Screw you brit a-holes). It also felt good to finally feel part of things. Last year when I was trying to figure out whether or not to go to London or South Africa, I casually mentioned to one of Ammi's business colleagues that, "it would be really nice to have a permanent address where I could get a 12 month magazine subscription sent to."

You know what? It really is nice. Labro is getting married in May and I'm here. Forget the whole wedding hoopla, it's such a novel-high-school feeling for me to actually be watching everything unfold instead of getting email updates and half arsed information rallying via instant message. There's a context to life that's been absent for a long while and it's simply geographical. I never got a chance to properly get to know her fiance because I was never here! It's clear that over the last few years I haven't been holding a monopoly on excitement. My friends have accomplished and experienced incredible things too.

Labro and I were sitting in her livingroom last summer, I had just finished detailing to her about the time one of my London flatmates nearly OD'd on coke in our flat on a Sunday afternoon. She looked at me and with all sincerity said, "life must be so boring for you now that you're back in Toronto."

Being back permanently hasn't been all that bad. In December I got called in for an interview with a firm that I had been dying to work with in a position that was perfect for me. It no longer fit in with who I was evolving into though. That feeling of walking into a room and knowing you're owning it is fantastic. I charmed the interviewers and got offered the job. It felt even greater to say no and I had a surge of validation. (I know. I clearly have issues.)

Things have changed though yo, I've now actually got the time and the drive to do things that I enjoy. I am up-to-date on everyone's life! My camera isn't as neglected as it was before and I've got a guilt-free-disposable income. With all of those warm, fuzzy feelings aside, one thing I will concede: you guys are right, I am wasting my life being a drone. But cut my some slack? It takes a bit of time to bounce back from wanting to save the world and working the non-profit circle. Don't think of the current state of my life as "settling," it's not. I'm just trying to figure things out. It is nice to feel so loved and you will be happy to hear that I will be going back to school.

I am looking forward to May.

Off we go

I may have figured out how to attach pictures to blogspot posts via my iPhone but who really knows? We'll have to wait and see after this post is done.

So the old man is off to Sri Lanka today and I should totally be on the flight with him at 6. Sadly that is not to be because of the new job. Most of the packing is done now and it's just the last minute freak outs. Ugh. I wish he'd just leave already. Old ppl are so ftl.

Poor Oliver has already spiralled into depression.

I saw the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time

I haven't felt like this in a very long time. Actually scrap that, it's been a little over a year since the last time. You know? When I feel like my life has spiraled out of my control causing me to become a complete and utter failure? It's never one of those things that can be anticipated. Doesn't hinge on SAD; autumn is my favourite season (and it's been rather magnanimous too, considering our bleak and wet summer). It just happens.

I've had one of those cliched "landmark" 12 months. (Maybe it's because I'll always be a student at heart but a year is September to September.) At this stage in life, every year that goes by is supposed to be progressing at the same rate and scale as a Homeric epic. Except that my story has no invocation of a muse and far more resembles the epci phail variety of Murphy's Law. There has been nothing artful or poetic in the route I took to get here. Watching Levi Johnstone's drunken yet adroit hand unhook Bristol Palin's bra for the first time probably would've been more poignant and meaningful.

So here I am, brimming with wasted potential waiting for what's supposed to be the next big phase and wondering if it's my fault that the I am where I am. I've often pointed out that with a sub-conscious like mine having a well-dressed-dastardly arch nemesis would sort of be superfluous. Somehow I've managed to become an unrivaled self-saboteur. The most recent and weighty example of this would be the whole drama surrounding my foreign service application.

I was told by my grade nine guidance counsellor that it is not uncommon for people to go through 3 or more career changes before settling in for the long haul. Of course I didn't pay any heed to what she had to say, I already knew what I wanted to do and where I was going to do it. Yes. I do want to slap my grade nine-self right upside the head. At current count I think I'm already briskly moving towards career change number 3 or even a potential 4th. Surprisingly this does not bother me as much as I thought it would and that bothers me.

Since I've recently become one of the first casualties of the financial crisis, scanning all the requisite places for a new job has become a regular fixture. During one of these daily perusals I discovered that I had 7 days to get my shit together for some post-grad federal government positions at CSIS and Foreign Affairs.

I sat on it.

Decided living in Ottawa would blow.

Bounced the idea off of a few friends.

Had them tell me that living in Ottawa would blow.

Then I finally reluctantly recalled the time when an on-campus recruiter had suggested that I join up. A job at CSIS/Foreign Affairs is the "grown-up" thing that remained constant through all the high school angst, university uncertainty and career letdowns. One of the last original things about me.

I was too afraid to apply because the thought of being rejection blew harder than the thought of living in Ottawa.

Again, that too really bothered me. The apathy that I thought was only reserved for fundamental Christians and politics was seeping into my own life a bit faster than I had anticipated. I've felt the shift for a long time but never thought it would engulf me so soon. After every one of these little mini-life-direction-crisis-points are done and finished with it feels like I've said goodbye to another part of me.

My life up to this point has been shaped with the mantra of not having any regrets. I've doggedly tried to adhere as closely to that as possible (which has caused some to call me impulsive). So I forced myself to go through the application process, which I did in a state of automatism. I remember tweeting at the time that, "I can't recognise the person staring back at me."

It all felt so unnatural and I suppose that neatly sums up where I'm at now? My life is no longer being actively lived out by me, instead I've just become a casual observer who flips through when there's nothing else to watch.

*Title shamelessly stolen from a line in Bobcaygeon by The Hip.

Captain Cold Feet

I've had to put my sandals permanently away because sock weather is upon us kids and I can't deal. My head space has been a bit weirder than it normally is and despite having more things than usual to blog about I can barely muster two coherent sentences let alone a fluid post.

Spent the better part of the afternoon staring blankly at my computer screen trying to write a wee 300 word essay on why I'd be a suitable candidate to join the Canadian Foreign Service. Right now I'm slightly more interested in exploring why Cutty Ranks just never seems to gets old.

Dear David Emerson, (Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Trade)

Although I will never, ever vote for your party (in the current election and all subsequent ones to follow) I listen to good dancehall music. This should alleviate any concerns you should have about my levels of competency and ability to be a super secret spy.

Much love to the wife and kids!

Aiya and I beat a hasty retreat during a super horrifically awkward family dinner on Monday night and managed to catch another "Road Talk."


Mace from rasti on Vimeo.

Clearly the dancehall thing has been recurring all week. Also just to be clear, he doesn't wear fugly crocs. Aiya prefers these. Something about the breathable cork yadda comfortable yadda.

Beverage Sensitivity Training

There's a new Loblaws that's opened up near the house, one of those giant "SuperStores." While I was meandering through the aisles I found the above gem. Were you aware that beverages could have ethnicity? Apparently they can be divided into cultural, linguistic, religious and geographic groups. Who knew? I wonder how their grand metanarratives are constructed. To think, all this time I always thought that soft drinks were either carbonated or flat.

My hat goes off to the corporate genius that figured mango and pineapple juice are too exotic to be contained in the same aisle as the Welches. These are the kinds of things that seriously have me questioning whether or not anyone pays attention to StatsCan's visible minority predictions for 2017. 9 years is not a long way off and we brown peeps are going to rule the GTA with an iron fist. So instead of using a term like "TROPICAL beverages" it's no surprise that Loblaws opts for the more ridiculous "ETHNIC" route.

Why can't juice just be effing juice?

"After a heated but civil debate, Canada's largest school board voted 11-9 last night to open an alternative Africentric school to help fight a 40 per cent dropout rate among Toronto's black teens." - GTA Board Okays Black-Focused School

So it's happened. The TDSB has voted in favour of the black-only schools. I'm absolutely stunned. (So stunned that I can't even figure out an appropriate title for this post.) A friend of ours from high school is teaching math and science in one of the original pilot classrooms, I bumped into a mutual friend of ours on the subway and she mentioned to me how horrific he thought the entire thing was. Yeah, he's black, but does it matter?

This whole thing smacks of racial segregation, it's the kind of insane thing you'd expect of US politicians. The ridiculous "no child left behind" kind of thing. It's a band-aid solution at best, at worst it's going to polarise an already vulnerable and at risk group of kids. I still can't fathom how this could have even been passed.

Apathy I suppose?

Even the best of us suffer from it.

Indecision 2008: 15,000 Reasons To Stay Away From Colombo

You've all by now have heard the news about the latest shiticane that has hit me.

But for the sake of continuity, I have 15,000 new very good reasons not to consider Sri Lanka as a contender in Indecision 2008.

The case for Colombo is not only non-existent, I think it'll be many, many years before I'll ever consider it as more than just a vacation spot.

/angst

meh.

gah.

That seems to be all I can muster these days.

Heading back home to Toronto in a few days. I have said good-bye to Colombo so many times but I don’t think anything will compare to the one I’m prepping myself for. The complacency that I’ve found myself in has started to become a wee bit stifling, not just to a level of mild annoyance, but to the point where I’m actually a bit frightened.

Thorn and Alby are packing up to head off to London and Korea for an undisclosed period of time. That shit’s exciting yo.

Me? What am I up to? Pursuing an English degree that should’ve been my primary focus years ago and potentially coming back to Colombo in January.

OoOo Exciting. I hope you can sense the sarcasm reverberating through the internets kids. Because believe me, I can feel it.

I used to be the one who would dream up grand and elaborate schemes, relate them to you, have you blink back at me in wild bewilderment and then watch me in abject horror while I left, did and got everything I wanted.

But wtf has happened to me now?!

Aside from some humorous incidents, a few unfortunate mindf*cks, and engagement in a bit of suspect behavior, this time in Sri Lanka has been meh at best. The novelty has completely worn off, there is nothing new on offer in Colombo. You know things are bad when your boss tells you to get out while you still have your sanity.

Sometimes when I’m in the throes of depression and bitterly complaining due to the lack of interesting people my own age to hang out with and things to do you sadists will inform me of your summer happenings in sunny Toronto. (Seriously. You’ve got to stop doing that you bastards.) Before that was okay, I could handle it. While you were eating street meat and gearing up for concerts I’d be dodging dysentery and food poisoning, which was fun because it was so incredibly far removed from my own reality.

The thing is, I’m pretty fortunate. I often get told that my combination of degrees will make me one of the more well read and erudite Tim Horton’s employees, but truth be told I do believe that the field work I’ve done will lend itself to work elsewhere, not limited to Sri Lanka. And with that in mind along with everything else, I’m wondering if it’s worthwhile being friendless and miserable in Sri Lanka, or whether my angst is better spent being friendless and irritatingly excited in some other foreign shit hole.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

And we're back.

Hmm, self imposed hiatus much?

Work is hitting a fever pitch today, and as always when there are pressing and important things to be done the only likely thing to do is turn to le blog. Clearly I have priorities.

Closing in on 3 months in the motherland, must say it has by all accounts been a rather staid trip. If anything I feel like a Colombo-weary traveller the novelty of being here has definitely worn off. If it wasn't for the job I think I'd probably start setting my eyes on another destination.

Then there are those total WTF moments. Which I will briefly describe below.

1. The human rights monitoring mission.
I have bored most of you to tears already about my account, so I shan't go into details here, but be prepared, in just over a month most of you will be weeping for silence when I'm back in Toronto. Check flickr for the pictures, promise I won't make you look at them all :)

2. The celebrity spottings.
Must say, where were all these folks last year, my social schedule hasn't changed, I still frequent the same places and yet. There they are.

3. Getting Slothy smashed.
A smashed slothy is by far one of the most amusing things ever. Evidence may be found on flickr. It may be argued that his mother hates us. This is possible since he did leave his residence card back in Colombo when leaving for Cardiff.

4. Almost being abducted.
The key word there is *almost.* One of the worst practical jokes in the history of all time played on me by my cousin no less. For about 3 hours I really did think that Karuna was going to abduct me and then demand a huge ransom from me. After a few brief calculations on a previous occassion the Auditor concluded that I'd be worth about 4 used Toyota Starlets (which we don't get back at home, but is Sri Lanka's version of the old Corolla hatchback. I swear. Check wiki.)

5. Being outted by Sage.
Seriously. This has to stop. One glass of red wine and my lover backstabs me by outting me. She assures me that elric was probably a wee bit too "happy" to realise what was going on. I hope so.

6. Being spat on
This has never happened. It nearly happened at the Castor market in Senegal, but it didn't thankfully. Was walking down Bullers Road today and a guy hurled some filth at me, horked, and then launched a giant loogie at me which by some awful twist managed to hit me square in the ear. *shudder*

7. And now I'm too lazy to continue.

Suffice to say I miss you guys like crazy. The thought occured to me the other day that when I get back in August that'll be it. Sort of bittersweet really to know that it'll effectively be my last trip home for who knows how long. But, it's finally happening right? That whole I need to get out of here thing. Sometimes I feel like I'm taking the half assed route, coming back here instead of striking a path elsewhere. Colombo's the safe bet. Established work connections, social net. All that jazz. And now the excitement of being here, the novelty both are starting to wear off.

Meh, but who knows what'll happen between now and January.

Also.

Living with my grandparents sucks. I think three years is a good time frame. I'm on the look out for a pad of my own next year.

The Douchebagel* Chronicles

Josh Hook, Dave Monks of Tokyo Police Club at last night's Mod Club show

The end is nigh children. Tomorrow is the last day of classes and then I spend the next week and a bit trying to read a year's worth of novels for Major British Writers. Someone remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea to pick up English? Gah.

It seems everything's starting to wrap up, last night I caught Tokyo Police Club with the lovely Marissa and Jenny (who Thorn so willingly pimped out to me for the incredible low, low price of a TPC button. Very reasonable). It's safe to say that it was the last show I'll be taking in before I leave. *sigh* After which I'll get to pleasure my ears with this and that saddens me greatly.


Great Lenin's Ghost

So the show? It was awesome. The two openers were so good! Great Lenin's Ghost did a kicking cover of Nelly Furtado's version of Maneater complete with butt wiggles and kitschy little outfits that reminded me of Crayola Crayons. We're Marching On were great as well, I'm really glad I picked up their CD, been listening to them non-stop today. Oh live shows and indie music how I will miss you for the next four months. I will have to quit cold turkey, and this does not bode well for me. We all know how I have zero resilience. Who knows, I just may come back a total B&S head. Gah.


Dave Monks of Tokyo Police Club joining We're Marching On for a bit of jamming. Or molestation of a snare drum. Whatevs.

Anywho along with the bleak prospect of having no ready access to good live music, Aiya's saying goodbye to the Beac, which means I get to say goodbye to my guest list privileges. He can no longer swap free meals for unlimited guest listing at the swank hotel he's heading too. Damn it. Speaking of guestlisting, seriously, how hard is it to screw up my white name? It's only 2 letters ffs.

Also. Sceevy hipsters? Will they not just chill the freak out? Seriously.

During TPC's set some douches decided it'd be cool to start MOSHING, because TPC is totally moshable and all right? Poor Jenny she kept getting whipped in the face by the business end of a moist jerry curl belonging to a fairly dirty guy rocking a played out bandana and unnecessary rotten onion stench. (Why hello there run-on sentence!) I could literally see the sweat (hair product?) flying off of the curl and polluting the air as it made contact with Jenny's face. And re-enacting that in my head just made me vomit a tiny bit in my mouth.

How about crowd surfing? A TPC concert is not a concert if there's no crowd surfing. And why yes. I did laugh my ass off when the idiot in the yellow shirt was dropped on his face after 20 seconds. I was fortunate, I didn't really get too caught up in the fray, I think Marissa had to deal with the brunt of the douchbagel shoving. But she's hardcore yo, she totally repped Malvern and shoved back. The feminist movement would've been proud.

They need to make more music though. The show was too short damnit.

(oo check out more pictures at le flick, I pretty much posted up everything I took. Yes. Repetition is good.)

Hmm, I should be writing an essay. Also, next Friday children! I expect to see you all at the most politically incorrect/insensitive/tasteless send-off ever. Remember to dress according to the theme, my ghetto pool table awaits you.

*copyright drackity.

Haterade.

My general hate for M.I.A. has been well documented. See exhibits A, B and C . Suffice it to say, M.I.A? No likey. It's not because I'm a music snob. (Because shh, I am.) I have readily (and publicly) admitted to having more than a few guilty pleasures ie Justin Timberlake (see flickr -- specifically the photoset from Wasaga). I like his album I will not lie, but I like it for its airheaded goodness.

As I remarked to Tool, as soon as I listen to his lyrics I feel guilty, because usually I tune out what he's actually saying "If I told you you were beautiful/ Would you date me on the regular?" Who talks like this? And for ffs am I 15?

But no. I will not hate on Justin because I take him for what he is a pop musician who knows he's a pop musician.

Enter M.I.A.

Perhaps if she or her label were not marketing her as the most innovative thing since a monkey picked up a set of cymbals and bashed them together, I may not hate her. Her production is slick. I like the beat, I like the sound of her voice, and yes, she has all the makings of falling into the guilty pleasure category right along with Justin. Her lyrics suck just as much as his do "don’t order me about/ I’m an outlaw from the badland." What a badass eh? Only a graduate of Central St.Martins could be so hardcore yo. She sort of reminds me of a UK version of, dare I say it, Avril Lavigne. But with just a smidge more street cred. (To give credit where it's due, M.I.A. is a great visual artist.)

If I found Avril's music infectious, I could add her to my list of guilty pleasures, but she sucketh. M.I.A. on the other hand has me torn. I really want to like her, because she's sort of like me, minus the LTTE father etc (why quibble). But more so because she's a product of the diaspora than anything else. If you watch the above video you can see the slickness of the production and the kids running around (I'm a fan of the little gyrating boy in the shorts). But wtf is up with the last frame? Yes can we please randomly throw in the LTTE symbol at the end of a video that has absolutely nothing to do with their cause? Thx.

M.I.A. you make pop music, which you call "dancehall" to a puritan it isn't even really that. (*cough* like how Avril Lavigne is not punk, or even "light" rock, she is pop.) Stop with the fake politics, it ain't going to sell records. If you didn't take yourself so seriously, I can guarantee you a top spot in my very large collection of guilty pleasures.

Moving along.

Now these are Sri Lankan musicians at their best. If we diasporic types were to put together an ensemble like this, I hands down could be the fat chick with the beads, slothy the fellow who tries to rap in English (since I hear he can't speak Sinhala), and drac as the Anarkali-a-like. I'm sure he can shake what his momma gave him after a few drinks, and by all accounts if he grew his hair again nothing would be amiss. He's got the slender girlish figure of an 18 year old already. Which leaves that guy with the curly-ish hair left. Aiya's too fat, so any other takers?

Thy Compassions they Fail Not*

Alby told me that Paulanne had cancer when we were grocery shopping at Loblaws. It was December I had handed in my last paper for the semester and was meeting her at Bayview Village. We were in the produce section and I was molesting a bell pepper (I can't seem to pick good fruit or vegetables without groping them.) I remember turning and looking at her saying "Oh shit." We both then fell into a passionate tirade about how she was much too young to have cancer, neither of us at that point realising that it was the terminal bone variety.

I didn't know Paulanne very well. I was the costume director for the musical "Annie" which she had a part in. Labro and I got to know her while freaking the shiz out backstage. She was an incredible human being, and I couldn't believe that she was Adam's older sister. She and Brittany (Alby's kid sister) were really good friends.

Even though Paulanne and I weren't close, I still went for her funeral on Saturday. It was a surreal experience to say the least.

I've never been to a funeral for someone so young before. I suddenly felt really old. Older than when Jambon looks up at me with her "wtf" face, when I screw up the name of Dora's friend Boots. It was a different kind of old.

While I was standing by the marble staircase at Bayview Glen waiting for tool to show, I saw so many people that I knew, who I used to see on a practically daily basis 5 years ago. Here they all were brought together because of Paulanne. It wasn't even just limited to people who we used to go to school with either, because there were familiar faces I spotted in the U of T Trinity choir, and even the Bach choir as well.

Bumping into old friends at funerals? That's the stuff that happens to people in our parents' generation. Not to us. We're young, we're in our 20s this stuff shouldn't happen to us now. We shouldn't be experiencing this. But I still do think that it was Paulanne's time to go, although it really doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. It was pretty clear to everyone who was close to her in the last few months of life that she was getting herself ready to go.

And in memory of Paulanne, someone who I'm 100% sure would've enjoyed the following. Here's a funeral edition of quips:

Seated at Second Cup killing time until Alby's soundcheck was over (Yes! She sang that Josh Groban song during the service)

Tool: Hey, are you going to the funeral?
Me: Yeah, I'm actually just around the corner from Bayview Glen, come early and hang with me!
Tool: What are you wearing?
Me: Erm...
Tool: Is it all black? Is there some sort of dress code? Do I have to wear all black?
Me: (stifling laughter) No you idiot, just wear whatever, no one's going to care.
Tool: What are you wearing?
Me: I'm wearing a pair of freaking jeans
Tool: Light ones?
Me: Nooo, dark washed ones,
Tool: OooOo what kind?
*and that's the point when the conversation disintegrated into fashion talk*

Just before the funeral service started

Me: Blah blah (talking about something totally inane)
Tool: OMG. SHUT UP (in response to my inane comments) *shifts eyes* Damn, we're talking really loudly.
Me: No we're not. Okay. Maybe you are. You never knew how to whisper
Tool: No, seriously, that guy keeps staring at me.
Me: (turns and looks) Oh Tool, he's just checking you out.
Tool: At a FUNERAL?
Me: Look at the girl he's with (point's to bleached blonde wearing stripper style platforms)
Tool: hmm, it makes sense now.

In the foyer while eating meatballs among other things.

Alby: Do you think anyone will notice that I don't have shoes on?
Me: Pfft, there's like a million people in here, no one's going to be looking at your feet
Tool: Uh, people will notice, I thought no one would notice my fugly shoes, but she did (points to me) within like the first 30 seconds.
Alby: Oh tool, but she notices everything.
Me: Yes. Yes tool. I notice everything.
Tool: Damn you. And that noticing everything thing.

Julie, the Bayview Glen caterer walking past holding a tray heaped with samosas

Alby: Oh man I'm starving (grabs a samosa)
Julie: Careful! They're spicy
Me: *snickering* (Grabs a samosa, and waits for the hilarity to ensue)
Tool: (grabs a samosa) Ooo. There's so much food here! It reminds me of Mandarin!
Me: Wth? really? Mandarin? The Chinese buffet?
Alby: Omg. What is in this thing?
Tool: Yeah wtf is this?
Me: It's a samosa! There's potato in it.
Tool: Yeah I know that, but what exactly is it?
Me: I don't know Tool. How do I explain this so you understand. I guess it's something ethnic?
Tool: Oh. Ethnic. (Says so with such conviction in her voice. As if it being labeled "ethnic" makes it more palatable)

- Paulanne Hoskins. February 14, 1985 - March 1, 2007.

*From Great is Thy Faithfulness, they sang it during the service. Which was awesome, since it is one of my favourite songs.

Also I can't get Casimir Pulaski Day out of my head. There's so much of a parallel with the lyrics and what happened with Paulanne. Especially the whole "First of March" deal. Bit eerie eh?

A thought on the plague that is VD.

When terriers and lolipops are brought together

Ollie and I? We no likey.

In fact if any of you decide that it'd be nice to call me up in anticipation of your festivities, please spare me. And that includes your post game analysis too.

As it is I'm about to hurl.

Hope your Valentine's Day is actually full of VD.

What? Me bitter?

pfft.