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

Esto Perpetua.

I'm pretty sure none of us were actually there in '88

"Blue, black and blue, dirty kangaroo..."

Aiya was never given to actually playing cricket, he was more prone to be seated under a shady tree eating a chinese roll from the school tuck shop. Regardless of his actual skill on the pitch the Roy-Tho was always a big deal for him. Thathi used to skip out of work to take him and his ankle biting friends. The festivities were sure to end with him having his flag stolen, cap flicked or other sundry article of school pride knicked.

I've never been to one of these "big matches," sadly the closest has probably been the annual Royal-Thomian that Thathi used to help organise back in the day, and the Metros, when the boys used to play basketball. When we all went to Sri Lanka for Punchy Mammah's wedding in 2000 I begged Rajiv to take me with him, but I was deemed too much of a "liability." I think his friends are clearly just pervy.

Usually large Sri Lankan gatherings make me suspicious, and other than the amusement to be had making fun of people, and watching them get sloshed I'm guessing that the novelty of the whole big match thing would wear off pretty quick.

In any case if I ever do find myself in the motherland during the fever you better believe that I will be begging forcing the auditor to take me.

teh hawtnes

French lock Loic Jacquet

Oh my little chickadees, things have been rather busy in these parts as of late. Evil papers on a myriad of different boring topics ranging from authoritarianism in Singapore to Satan's portrayal in Paradise Lost. Kill me now.

These be perilous times I say.

Welp, things are beginning to slightly look up. I'm awaiting the arrival of my brand spanking new SLR which methinks is stuck somewhere along the 49th in a customs bin. The Alcoholic Cousin Who Has An Affinity for Vodka is on a whirlwind 5 day US Turkey Day tour and is gracing me with her presence tonight at the Beac, which should lead to some fun times. Hopefully reminiscent of the summer antics which she regaled me with in the motherland.

w00t ACWHAAFV.

And of course how could we forget the sports? NBA, NHL and added to the mix a ridiculous amount of cricket (which has led to fisticuffs between Thaththi and I over the merits of America's Next Top Model vs The Ashes). Then there's the rugby, where every weekend I get to feast my eyes on things like the above.

Unfortunately they don't show all of the games live in these parts in English, so I had to rely on the TV5 (yes, yes the infamous TV5) feed to get us through the New Zealand vs France match. FIrst off this led to some hilarious results as I was expected to provide simultaneous translations into English. Much to my father's chagrin, Rugby terms were never part of the French curriculum that I've been studying since I was 8. As a result this led me to say things such as "the ball has been liberated," and "he's in trouble for pushing." As always I'm so quick to pick up on the nuances of the language.

What's that? Yeah, I know, I even amaze myself sometimes.

Something I noticed is that aside from the language (put that in for Cap'n Obvious) French commentators, are really nothing at all like their English counterparts, their styles are totally different. I'd hazard to guess that an English commentator would have immediately mentioned something about the "new" uniforms that France was wearing to commemorate 100 years of test rugby with New Zealand. But no. I was left gaping at teh hawtness which was parading itself before my eyes exclaiming to Thaththi that yes, those French bastards have amazing style.

Small, creased, pressed, white shorts?
Check.

Incredibly thought out accessories in the form of tricoloured belts and white socks?
Check.

Hipster-esque, tight vintage jerseys complete with quaint embroidery?
Check.

All in all I thought that the dandy look suited them really well. And then? Half way through the game, the bloody commentators decide to point out that, oh yeah? Those new outfits? They're a one off.

I just want to buy a melon.

Check out youtube for more of the same goodness

Can't say that I'm a big rum drinker, but I am a fan of Malibu Rum, mainly because of their "Seriously Easy Going" campaign. For those of you who've had the pleasure of viewing some of the spots you'll know they're pure genius. My favourite one is "Road Rage" but unfortunately even with its superior greatness, youtube doesn't seem to have it, but "Melon" is still an indicator of how witty the campaign is.

UPDATE!! I just found the road rage spot.

So what's the deal-e-o? My cousin is heading out to Jamaica for 6 months on Friday. Although I am feeling a slight twinge of jealousy, I'm not in an overt tizzy as yet, call me crazy but the Caribbean/West Indies (are they the same thing? My geography skills are as good as my math ones) doesn't really appeal to me. Perhaps it's because I spent the better part of my pre-pubescent life being mistaken for West Indian and a significant part of my teenage years purposely misleading people into thinking I was West Indian. (That is a story left for another time, one most probably to be shared with my therapist, when I hit my mid-life crisis.)

Whatever said and done my non-West Indian ass will definitely be at the airport bright and early on Friday morning to drop my cousin off. As aiya and I have speculated she will most likely come back fluent in Patois, wearing neon green spandex with a sash that says "West Moreland Dance Hall Queen 2006" on it, holding a box of custom monogramed dominoes, demanding ox tail stew in a generally surly manner, and well versed enough in the steel drums to give lessons to inner city youth in Scarborough - all of this will take place at the airport when she comes back next February.

Damn. I love the airport. Who knows, at the rate I'm going at maybe JVIS was right? There is a chance that I just might end up as an immigration officer at Pearson.

Quips: Back by popular demand

It's been awhile since I've dug out some of the gems I've been privy to.

Words of wisdom from Aiya
Sucks that Aiya's moved out. But he does come home on Sunday mornings, and kinda hangs out until Monday. You guys know how he is. There's just too much goodness.

In the car, on the way for Sunday dinner
Me: I was on the internet, and i found this woman who breeds...
Aiya: Leprechauns?
Me: No you idiot...
Aiya: Lesbian Leprechauns?

After discovering a stash of phone cards, ammi deemed it appropriate to call all of our relatives.
Ammi: Here's a phone card, go and call your grandparents...
Aiya: Gah...
Ammi: You'll regret it when they get alzheimers
Aiya: No. If they had alzheimers and complained I never called, I'd tell them that I called them yesterday. And they wouldn't know.
*15 Seconds later*
Ammi: Did you call them??
Aiya: Ya. I did. The line was engaged
Ammi: This phone card? It hasn't even been scratched.

Random after dinner conversation
Me: Who's that on the front porch?
Vindhiya: Starts with an "E" and ends in a "K"
Aiya: Uh. Would that be "Eksathk"?
Me: No, I think the "K" is pronounced as an "H"
Aiya: Okay, well I think you're being something that starts with a "B" and ends in a "K"
Me: Hilarious. You should seriously look into stand up.
Aiya: That's right. A bitck. But remember, the "K" is pronounced "H"

On Food
We are a family of eaters. There's really not much more to it, as a result we spend a large portion of the day not only eating, but also talking about food.

At the local Sri Lankan take-out joint on a day when everyone was way too lazy to cook
Aiya: I want "cuttlefish"*
Me: Ya, I'm in the mood for calamari too.
Ammi: Well kids, I'm sorry. They don't have either of those. There's only squid on the menu.
* the posh way of saying "squid" in Sri Lanka. Although, as far as I know, they're two different species. But for the sake of this quip, let's just say they're one and the same.

Whilst watching a terribly written (what else is new?) Hindi movie
Me: You know what, the cinematography in this movie, it's so good. I'm speechless because I'm so surprised.
Aiya: I know, it's pretty impressive.
Me: It's all very Citizen Kane, with the camera angles and stuff...
Aiya: You mean, Citizen Jalebi.
Me: Ummkay.
Aiya: Or Citizen Gulab Jamun. Mmm. Citizen Ras Malai. Now that's something I haven't eaten in awhile. Ras Malai is so effing good.

After lunch at Punchi's place. Struggling against a sever case of 'itis
Punchi: Do you want some ice cream?
Me: Hmm...depends on what kind you have.
Vindhiya: We have a load. OoOoO There's Napoleon. You like that right?
Me: Napoleon?
Vindhiya: Ya Napoleon. You know, with the chocolate, vanilla and strawberry stripes?
Me: Napoleon? I think you mean Neapolitan? Have you been referring to it as Napoleon for the last 19 years?
Vindhiya: Maybe.

Surprisingly I haven't been pushed into anorexia. Yet.
Alby and I could never have an eating disorder. Not because we're totally happy with our love handles (among other things), but it's just because neither of us has the self will or determination to carry out an eating disorder. Keeping this in mind and viewing the below will give you ample evidence that there's enough psychological pressure to push me over the edge.

So terrible, that he will not even be named! But babe, you know who you are.
Me: I'm thinking about getting my belly button pierced.
Him: Really?
Me: Ya. Feeling a bit bleh these days and want to *do* something that doesn't involve getting drunk and making out with random guys.
Him: Well, ya that makes sense. But there's just one problem.
Me: What? That it'll be painful and I'll pass out?
Him: No. You have a gut. And no one will see the piercing, because it'll be completely obscured in its environment.
Me: It's a wonder that I don't have an eating disorder yet you know that?
Him: Loose the gut, and then get the piercing. That's my advice to you. It's foolproof.

While taking pictures after an overly large lunch when alby was able to break free from the holds of her Jewish over night camp and escape from Bracebridge for the day. Or wherever the hell that place is located
Alby: It looks like shit.
Me: Ya. We can't, we've spent like the last decade trying but we just can't.
Alby: Labro, just take the picture again, we both look like ass.
Labro: Is there anything that I can do...?
Me: Emergency face transplants perhaps?
Labro: I meant in terms of camera angles...

One of those occasions where were all just sitting around shooting the shit
Labro: (Looking at Copto) You know, loosing weight wasn't that hard. It's all about quantities...
Copto: Erm...
Me: Labro. Look how much weight he's lost. He's so thin now. I don't really think he needs any tips
Whoren: Ya, maybe you should be directing it this way. (Looks my way)
Me: Ya, I'm the one who needs it.
Copto: Ya, your words are wasted on me, she's the one who really needs the advice. (Turns my way)

Random Thoughts
I couldn't figure out where to stick these.

Whoren: So does he have a moustache?
Me: Whoren. What the hell?
Whoren: No seriously. Does he?
Me: Why would you even ask that?
Whoren: Well, you said he was Sri Lankan. Does he wear army fatigues too?
Me: You geek, he's not a Tamil Tiger.
Whoren: Ya but he should have a moustache. Otherwise it's just not right. Do you have a picture?
Me: Just this grainy one on my phone. He's the brown smudge on my right in blue.
Whoren: Whoa. He looks like he's 8 feet tall. That's a really tall guy. Does he play ball?
Copto: If he played ball, I could kill him. Guy we could kick his ass.
Me: (To Whoren) He's tall. But not as tall as that loser. (Glares at Copto.)
(Back to Whoren) As far as he's mentioned he only plays cricket in a hardcore manner.
Whoren: At least he's athletic. But really, it's a shame about that moustache

Aiya: Guess who I'm going to see August 27th?
Me: Um. I heard Ice Cube is coming?
Aiya: No. Listen to this.
Me: What is it?
Aiya: Just shut up and listen to it. It was like your summer theme song.
Me: Hmm, wasn't aware that I had one.
"Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira starts to play.*
Me: First of all you're an ass. Secondly, I didn't know Wyclef was coming, and why aren't you taking me?!
Aiya: Um. I'm going to see Shakira.
Me: Shut. The. Mom. Up.
*Long pause*
Me: I just don't know what to say. I'm so shocked.
*In my (albeit flimsy) defence, one could hardly call it a theme song. I just happened to be at this place called the Onyx one evening with some friends, and got asked to dance by 4 guys. At the same time. What can I say? Sri Lankans like Shaki.

Late Breaking News

So. Um. I'm back?

Two months in Sri Lanka.

Worked once again with the most brilliant people I've ever met, and most probably that I'll ever meet period.

Met a really dodgy Auditor. (A Clyde to my Bonnie if you will. Or is it a Bonnie to my Clyde? Maybe even a Butch Cassidy to my Sundance Kid? A Thelma to my Louise? And now? All this outlaw talk? It's just left me confused.)

Discovered I have an Alcoholic Cousin Who Has An Affinity For Vodka. (Here after ACWHAAFV). Confirmed the general suspicion that it is indeed the Tamil side of the family who knows how to party.

Watched another (more sane) cousin walk down the aisle and felt a bit queasy because, my God. We're getting old! Time's not waiting up for me and I still feel like I'm 15.

Met a friend from Toronto in Colombo and was told that I had acquired a slight Sri Lankan accent. Nearly died. My worst fear realised. Full blame rests on the shoulders of the Auditor and the ACWHAAFV. Have attempted to drop said accent but it creeps up ever so often, especially when accidentally blurting out "yeah men."

Conned an entire city into believing that I am indeed a good person with morals and a level head on my shoulder. (Yeah, is your stomach cramping from laughter too?). The farce my friends is now officially international.

Engaged in some suspect behaviour that made me feel like a bonafide Sri Lankan (and not a hyphenated one) for the first time in my entire life.

Came home 3 weeks ago. Incidentally on Canada Day, couldn't have orchestrated a better day to land.

So, that kind of sums up all the main points of the last two months pretty well I think? Suprisingly succinct isn't it? Have no fear though, I'm still long winded and verbose. Just really lazy today that's all.

This Just In
Very little time these days for leisure writing children. This naturally can be a problem when one does not have any leisure to speak of. I'm in the thick of summer school. And yeah, I ask myself every day wtf I was thinking when I decided to sign up for not one but TWO courses. As a result there are a limited amount of subjects I can blog about coherently. (But wait, when was I ever coherent?)


- Yet another grainey photo that proves I'd be an amazing spy!But this is in the name of fashion, Robert Best from Project Runway

My spare time has been spent on the following: Enlightenment philosophy and its role in political theory and the concept of lost love in the collected works of Anton Chekhov. Why such light hearted and fun subjects you ask? Papers my friend. Papers. That's all I have time for. Well. And reality TV of course. I outed my dirty TV habits awhile ago and you're already well aware of my penchant for Bollywood and collegiate humour (more specifically anything with a Wilson, Stiller or Ferrell). And now with the new season of Project Runway airing a bit earlier than usual, do you understand why I haven't been blogging? I mean, that's all the justification you need. (That and the fact that Zizou took up most of my time when I came home. But we won't talk about that just yet.) I'm behind Robert, because, um how freaking cute is he? The little pot belly and tank-top combo? Loving it! And, I'm waiting like everyone else for Vincent to have Woody Allen-esque breakdown on national television.

Well my pets, hopefully my updates will be more frequent, but I wouldn't count on it (due to the aforementioned laziness.) First let's see if I even survive this coming week. That's right! Ammi's at home and Hezbollah's got nothing on her.

Bunny Debauchery

Bunny doing lines

Do you remember the rabbit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail? My cousin has a puppet from back in the day that looks eerily like it. We got bored. I have an assignment that I should be working on. I present to you now:

BUNNY DEBAUCHERY

Dear (4) loyal readers, if you're not related by blood...you might want to skip.

Thathi, Aiya and Loku Mammah

Good friends we have
Oh good friends we've lost
Along the way.
In this great future you can'’t forget your past
So dry your tears, I say
- Bob Marley, No Woman, No Cry

I can't hear any song by Bob Marley without thinking about Loku Mammah. Aiya and I burst into an impromptuou rendition of "I Shot the Sheriff" in the kitchen a few weeks back. This usually pushes Ammi into a homicidal rage. We sang with our usual amount of gusto and after inhumanely butchering a few stanzas we stopped. Slightly out of breath (because we are both slightly out of shape) we fell silent. Initially I thought it was due to the Sunday afternoon 'itis which can stealthily incapacitate those who are much stronger than us. But Aiya quietly confessed that he is unable to hear Bob Marley without thinking about Loku Mammah. What ensued was a brief conversation between the three of us (Ammi having put down the meat cleaver) about what a generally hip guy he was.

The truth is I don't remember a whole lot about Loku Mammah, just a few personal memories of him interspersed with everyone else's. When I think of him I'm whisked back to being 4, that's the last time I saw him.

I remember a lap as big as Thathi's to sit in, it could accommodatete Aiya, myself and Rajiv in it all at once. I don't ever remember it being too crowded. Although I'm told that the three of us weren't averse to reverting to fisticuffs if someone was hogging. We were a violent bunch even then.

We had cricket and rugby players coming in and out of our little home, Thathi had some really big friends. But Loku Mammah filled the entire place up, not just because to a 4 year old he was a giant of a man. He was over 6 feet and commanded a lot of respect and had a no nonsense air of authority about him. However there was still something that made people want to be around him. He was incredibly approachable, I tasted this first hand. Being a non-stop talker even then he'd always humour me even though I spoke a parcel of utter rubbish, a mile-a-minute to boot. (Granted in retrospect, I think I made much more sense back in those days.)

He sent me a Barbara Sansoni doll. I don't remember exactly when I got it or who he sent it through. But it made me happy to know that he still remembered me, even though we were in Toronto and our family was so far away. I never played with it. True. I was not much into dolls. But in my defence I never tried to decapitate it or cut its hair off. Through the years most of my stuffed toys found their way into storage. I just never had the heart to put that unplayed doll in with the rest (she's still in my room). Not because I particularly liked her, but because Loku Mammah gave her to me. So Raggedy Anne and Andy, Charlie, and a slew of other much loved toys were put away, never to see the light of day again. A racoon made a nest in my box of toys. I'm glad I wasn't there when Thathi and Punchy cleared out the storage last May when we moved.

31 October 1991.
I was supposed to go out as a bumble bee that year for Halloween. We always had an in class Halloween party where everyone would dress up in their costumes and contribute some cavity giving item to the festivities. It was one of the highlights of the year. We had gone to the pumpkin patch the week before to pick out the perfect gourd to carve into a Jack O'Lantern. The build up was ridiculous, especially to a bunch of kids in grade 2.

My memories of that morning are a bit hazy. Someone had woken Ammi and Thathi up with a phone call and the house was in a state of surreal chaos. But there was a bone chilling hush in the air. No one wanted to tell Amammah. Thathi couldn't, Ammi couldn't, Punchy couldn't, Punchy mammah couldn't.

Loku Mammah had died of a heart attack while swimming with Rajiv.

Piyo (my nanny) is the one who had to do it. I don't remember Amammah's initial reaction. My first encounter with death left me angry in my childish stupidness. I knew how I was supposed to act, but I was really pissed off that I couldn't wear my bumble bee costume to school. No one had the heart to dress me. Ammi tried to placate me by reminding me that I already had a chance to wear my costume to my Girl Guide troop's Halloween party a few days before. This type of reasoning did not work. I huffed of to school with my trademarked sour face of anger, tears burning my eyes not for my dead uncle but for my ruined Halloween.

Mr. Christie was right out of teacher's college, we were his first class. A grade 1-2 split. I was his pet. He famously told my parents during a parent teacher interview that they should give me everything I asked for. (Which thus far has been a rousing success.) He noticed that I was upset, and wasn't dressed up. Stupidly asking, in the way only a caring teacher can, if everything was all right. I told him that my mother's eldest brother had died. I channeled the anger of the lost bumble bee costume and forced a few tears out. Mr. Christie was a sucker, and I had secured a morning free of reading comprehension, cursive writing and decimal places.

I was allowed to choose one friend to make a Halloween poster with me. Brandon was my partner for folk dancing, my gay best friend in elementary school. He was good at art so I picked him. Neither one of us knew much about death, and although we were having a lot of fun making the poster we pretended we didn't. Because when someone dies you're not supposed to be happy. Mr. Christie heaped praise on our hideous poster and hung it up in a place of prominence, right on the door into our classroom. It almost made my lack of a costume worth it.

I begged Aiya to take me out trick or treating that evening. Ammi announced that we would never celebrate Halloween ever again, no more costumes or candy. I thought she was heartless. It was surprisingly easy to get Aiya to agree, I don't really remember how he handled his grief, but he had a sweet tooth, so off we went, Vindhiya, myself and Paul. We didn't make it that far down the street, Paul wet his pants and we had to come home. (This is just one of the reasons why I hated my cousins when I was a kid)

I wasn't forced to brush my teeth before bed that evening; the adults had their mind on other things than my dental hygiene. So with traces of chocolate in my mouth I said my prayers like the pious little Anglican I was.

"Lord, be with me as I go to sleep. Don't let me die. Make sure the house doesn't burn down with all of us in it. Please don't let robbers come in and murder us and then take all of our things..." The general theme of these night time prayers was me appealing to God not to smite me down in some horrible and unusual way. What? I was an Anglican. That's what Anglican's do. (Have you not seen Monty Python's The Meaning of Life?)

After I amened I went over everything that happened that day. I mentally tried to process and analyse the important bits. (It's something I still do today, and is probably the #1 contributor to my insomnia and the root of my narcolepsy.) That's when I thought about Rajiv. Rajiv who was just 9 months older than me. Rajiv who didn't have Thathi anymore. I became very sad for him, I couldn't fathom his loss then, and can't fathom it now either.

Trick or treat.

It's not brain surgery. It's a samosa

*Gobble*Gobble*Gobble*
What a Thanksgiving. It's been awhile since we've had sooo many people crammed into one house. *sigh* the Malvern days, Thanksgiving day lunch with all the family and adopted family = fun times. This year we had 26 people staying with us for our Church convention. It was NUTS. Abs' younger sister came from Montreal! That was definitely THE highlight of the weekend. Then of course our feuding Inuits, celebrity guests and droves of children. I'm not going to lie, it had the potential to turn into a billeting nightmare from hell but thank God it did not! Here's a rundown...

Gus??
Thathi took the day off on Thursday. We found ourselves in Malvern. We seemed to be drawn back to the ghetto almost instinctively. It's a phenomenon. I can't explain it. Somehow we ended up at No Frills of all places. No Frills AND Malvern. Now that's class. Can someone tell me when 'Steve and Brian's No Frills' became 'Gus' No Frills?!'
(Gus and his No Frills)

Inuit Smack Down
*YAY* Debs came on Friday. Luckily we were able to sneak back home after picking her up at the bus station before all the hordes of people came over. Tonite was the nite the fun started. We had a family of 9, they had 7 kids ranging from the ages of 11 months to 9. A bunch of people from Washington two guys from New York (the celebrities, the webmasters of a church-ish website called Blueradius) and the best guests ever. The Inuit ladies. Most of you have heard the story already so i won't bother retelling it to you. For those of you who haven't, here's a scintilating snippet from the end of one of their conversations "I'm not sleeping next to that piece of sh*t." Call me. I'll give you the details ;)
To the scholars who came home for Thanksgiving. I really wanted to call you on Friday night. Honest. I did. I was thinking about you guys all weekend. Guess it'll have to wait for December.

Ollie Got Served
Saturday was crazy. Especially Saturday afternoon. Finally Oliver got a taste of his own freaking medicine! David and Judith's 6 kids "played" with him in the afternoon for like 2 hours. He couldn't take it. You know how normally it doesn't matter WHAT you do to the loser he never gets tired. Now we know. Let him lose with 6 wild children for two hours and he'll be exhausted.
(David and Judith's Clan 'hiding' from Oliver l-r Elizabeth (6), Davey (4), Joey (8), Josh (9.5), Sarah (7), Mercy (3), missing: Caleb (11 months))
(As if they could remain on the ground like that, here they are again (same order))

I had Samosa duty on Saturday. I've come to the conclusion that i can never be in the service industry. People irritate me too much. It's really simple guys. You have two choices, a mild samosa, or a hot one. Pick one. For the love of God. Just pick one and keep walking. Thathi and I had clean up duty at the church. AKA Washing huge massive pots that you could cook children in, but without hot water or good sponges.
(The ladies making Tuna sandwiches l-r Debs, Aunty Lydia, Vindhiya and Pasha)

"Would you like stuffing with that?"
I had Turkey duty on Sunday. It was unpleasent. I was manning the stuffing. Sunday was the last day of the Convention. And i was kind of sad to see it end. I had a lot of fun this year. Mainly because the house was rammed with people and Debs came from Montreal. At the same time having so many people really did suck. Only because one of the (many) things that I look forward to about having strange people come and stay at our house is getting to know them. This was virtually impossible this year. But here are a few things our family managed to collectively glean from random conversations with our guests.

Sis Robin from Washington - Her son has a very uncommon name. They look African American mixed with something else. I don't want to butcher his name but it's really cool. Ammi asked her what it meant. Turns out his name is Polynesian for Charles, his father named him that b/c he himself is Polynesian!

Sis Susan half of the Inuit duo - Susan is the sweetest old lady EVER. She stayed with us one extra day so i got to spend a little time with her. She's 77 years old and man has she been through a LOT. In a nutshell: She was married to an Anglican priest who was sent to the North to establish a church. It took him an entire year to save up enough money to buy sled dogs to make the journey. She and her 12 children went along with him. Only 5 of her kids died, the other 7 died due to the severe weather conditions. Her husband also died early on, some lung ailment, but she continued on. Remember that "Transformations" video that Radford made us watch? The one with the world wide revivals on it? The Inuit community that they filmed, that's Susan's home! And the church that was there is the one that her husband built!
(Susan getting some loving from Oliver)

Sis Pia - She's an official translator! She gets hired by the CBC and stuff to do work from Inuktituk (sp?!) into English and vice versa.

Ben from Yonkers NY - Wants to go to Africa for a year. (Good choice btw ;))

Franklin from Yonkers NY - Was watching his carb intake. Refused an offer to have raisins picked out from his breakfast to lower the carb count. Pure madness.

Bro Andy from Washington DC - LOVED Oliver. But was also afraid of him. They'd play but Andy would get scared and jump away. And do the nervous laugh. The "i'm not scared, but i'm scared" laugh.

Here are some random pictures
Sparky, looking a lot like Anthony Hopkins in promotional posters for the Shining
Debs and Lou reunited again after leaving Vancouver
A present from Sarah on our Magnadoodle
Aiya and Sis Gail representin'...Punchy's just blurry :P

(Remember, if there's a name that doesn't look familiar to you check the brief lexicon :))
That's all for now!

It's, it's like a lava lamp!

OoOo lots of things to talk about!! I have been having lots of random fun.

But first
A lexicon of terms, for those who asked for clarification.
Ammi - Sinhalese, means mom
Thathi - Sinhalese, means dad
Aiya - Sinhalese, means older brother
Oliver - our Jack Russell Terrier
Punchy - Sinhalese for little, it's what we call my mom's younger sister
Ranjan Bappa - Punchy's husband
Vhindiya - My female cousin
Paul - My other female cousin
Bro/Sis - I go to a hardcore Pentecostal church, need i say more?
Alby, Copto, Genis/Gene/Tool, Labro etc - Friends from high school.
Thorn - University buddy

And now in no particular order a smattering of how i have been occupying myself

:) Slobo's Baby Shower - Baby Showers are fun. They're even more fun when they're for friends! Slobo's was great. The moment of the night had to have been the "Copto" revelation. Copto was demanding answers and no one could give him any! (Slobo holding up Genis' baby clothes!)

:) Meeting the Dutch hottie - Alby and I had loads of fun. Perhaps the best part of it all was watching Dirjk (the Dutch hottie) fold his massive 6 foot+ frame into ammi's tiny little Carolla. (l-r: Dutch cuties + Alby)

:P Going to the Blue Jays' Game - I hate baseball. I still had fun though. It all started off with a guy hitting on Alby, using the smooth pick up line of "Hi, were you at Spring Rolls on Sunday night? I saw you there, my name is Kelly" *extends creepy hand* Alby getting excited and hitting Sonic's hand and Sonic spilling Coke on her upper thigh. Labro "supposedly" getting asked for her phone number by Jays' starting pitcher 'Botista' none of us have a clue as to who the heck he is LOL. Being told we're not allowed to take pictures in the stadiuam b/c it's "distracting" to the players. Riight. So we took one anyway. (l-r: Sonic and Alby)

:) Shopping with Alby like it was 1999 - To make up for the lost summer Alby and i saw a tonne of movies after i finished work. The one that really sticks out the most though is the night we went to see Collateral (of course we had to assign real life characters, Alby was Jamie Foxx, and i was Tom Cruise i don't remember who was Jada Pinkett, but it was probably Genis as usual). We went shopping before the movie and came to this conclusion. It would be impossible for us to have a psychological disorder. We could never be anorexic b/c we don't have ANY self control...we must eat. And we can't be "cutters" either b/c neither of us would ever have the guts to cut ourselves :) Another more important conclusion. Shopping for jeans = robbing a chick of all self-esteem that they might have. Flipping jeans. The sad thing is. They really do. To make amends i bought a fetching purse for a fetching price.

:) Monet - So Thorn and i went to see the Impressionist exhibit that was going on at the AGO. Whistler, Monet, and Turner. Let me tell you. It kicked some serious arse. I had such a good time. We got our tickets for free b/c some lady didn't want to wait in the crazy long entrance line. I can't wait to go to Europe. I finally got a real taste of what it's like to see the work of artists that you admire up close. There was a certain thrill in looking at paintings that you're familiar with...seeing the individual brush strokes, looking at the signature and all the minute little details and knowing that you and a couple of hundred other people in the room are looking at a piece of history. *emo shudder.* This is also the day i cut my own bangs in the bathroom. They were getting too long! (Thorn at the crusty St. Patrick's Station hold up one of our FREE ticket stubs :))

:S People trying to be philosophical, when they shouldn't - I was on the subway and this was taped to the seat in front of me. I think the ridiculousness of it speaks for itself. I hope it's clear enough for you to read it. (Read me if you dare!)

:( It's, it's like a lava lamp! - I know low-rise, crotch dusting jeans are supposedly in style. I too hate wearing pants that are too high. BUT. Something about having your arse hang out of your pants everytime you bend over does not appeal to me either. PEOPLE. PLEASE. STOP. WITH. THE. OVER. EXPOSURE. So Thorn and I are walking on Bloor street b/c she wanted to go and check Aritzia out. Just ahead of us is a fat chick in low rise pants and a CROPPED vintage t-shirt two sizes too small. I'm not thin. I know that. But as i stated above, i don't wear those freaking ultra low rise pants. Her rolls were out for the entire world to see. There must have been a foot of exposure from the waist of her pants to the bottom of her shirt. I like to keep my rolls private. But really. They were mesmerizing. Thorn aptly pointed out that "it's, it's like a lava lamp."

More Recently
Fanners and I hit up H&M. I got a sweet men's hat :) After H&M we went to Old Navy. Where we tried on children's Halloween costumes. Fanners is freakishly small, and i have a freakishly small head and feet. We took these pictures in the mirror; hence the overall bad quality picture. I'm a mouse, and Fanner's is a fairy :P (l-r: Fanners et moi)

:D Olivier - He got a new collar. It's kind of like a muzzle. But not so evil and mean. He hates it as you can see here, here, and here lol. He started obedience school, and he's bad so he gets stuck with a "Gentle Leader" as it is called. For the Sri Lankan/Indians out there. When you were a kid did you ever use your dad's sarong/lungi as a swing? I used to do it ALL THE TIME. Oliver enjoys doing it too. Yeah, Thathi's wearing a Scotiabank t-shirt. (Thathi and Ollie at the kitchen table)

In other news
We might have 30 people staying with us for Thanksgiving weekend. Yeah it's that time of year again! Our church is having it's annual Thanksgiving Conference (which you are ALL most welcome to attend btw!! October 7-10) and they want to take advantage of all the space in our empty basement. We have 3.5 washrooms. Will this be a billeting nightmare(as in years past)? Or billeting fun time? Stay tuned to find out!

To My Adoring Public

I'm back!!!  I thought my blogging days were over, but due to the demands made by my fans worldwide, I have decided to come back from retirement and throw my hat back into the ring. 
 
Who are we kidding here??  You shameless people want to see pictures and hear stories about my dog and I'm too lazy to send out e-mails.  So I'm just going to post them up here...as soon as I figure out how to use the digital camera...and we all know how long that might take...

Spawn of Satan aka Oliver
So, we are the proud new owners of a Jack Russell Terrier named Oliver (you can see a picture of him here, http://www.petselect.org/jackrussel.htm he's the 2nd puppy from the bottom).  He is really cute, but jebus it's scary how similar he and my brother are!! 

1.  They have the same birthday, May 22. 

2.  When he's angry he goes to sleep (just like everyother male in our family.)

3.  Beware of the morning dragon slaying breath.

4.  All physical activity is preceded and followed by a nap.

5.  Enjoys irritating me.

Convention 2004
Another convention done and finished with.  Other than the 14 hour drive that was SO NOT WORTH it, this was definitely one of the better ones.  The "sleeping arrangement" was easily the hugest contributing factor...*sigh* it was like being 10 again, but without boys dominating the all night conversations...wait a minute... 
 
Some highlights (in no particular order):
~ Seeing Abi

~ Crashing Abi, Debbi, Gloria and Joyce's room

~ Finally being able to shake off the "unaccompanied minor" title

~ Seeing Mr. Edlington walking around on campus (in a Canadian Flag t-shirt nonetheless) and thanking God I was in a car :D

~ Thathi wearing his prescription sunglasses during the worship service b/c he left his regular glasses at home and couldn't see

~ Seeing Joycie, Debbie and Vindhiya in black vests

~ Harassing Uncle Noel

~ Roshan's car = not having to walk. Anywhere.

~ Abigail's first steps!!

And now I'm back with only a  nasty head cold (courtesy of Gloria) to remember my time in Lynchburg with.