This is by far the weirdest infomercial I've seen in a long time. Although I'm glad to see that I can wear the Forever Lazy while I hang out in the parking lot with my friends.


It's That Time of the Year...

It's the end of November already and I cannot believe how time has flown! Recently I spoke with some of my American friends about the holidays and how, with their Thanksgiving approaching this week, they are still in the thick of their turkey and leaves decorating schemes. I guess once Thanksgiving day is over stores can put up their Christmas trees, or whatever they're allowed to put up these days. A holiday cardboard box. A holiday stick. Anyway, in Canada, once Halloween is over, Christmas has begun. There is no in-between holiday, we get right to the point. Christmas is coming and we're freakin' excited about it.

Although it has been a freezing day, after work I went for a run around my neighborhood. Dressed warm with my new reflective jacket I jogged up and down the darkened streets.

I was enjoying the decorated houses of the eager beavers who could not wait to put up their twinkly lights. Reindeer! YAY! Santa! YAY! Bloody handprint on the window! Umm. Either we have a very sloppy serial killer on the loose or not everyone has made the transition over to Christmas. I saw pumpkins, skeletons, all intermingled with the pretty joys of flashing lights and stars. I even saw a black cat who obviously did not receive the memo that he should be packed away in storage by now.

This is the problem for us Canadians. It's far to late for turkeys, about 22 days late for Halloween...and maybe 9 days too early for Christmas. It leaves us with what I would like to call "Nightmare Before Christmas Syndrome" or NBCS. Its starts looking like a freakish mess of a holiday where Santy Claws is going to come deliver man-eating jack-in-the-boxes.

And I do not know what this is about...

If only I had gotten to that serial killer before he took the life of this oversized stuffed parrot. December will be here soon enough to save us from this atrocity.


Revelation from the Movies

Okay, Wednesday...we're going to be okay, folks.

On Saturday I went to the movies. Alone. Some people get this and some people don't, but unless I can be sure that my movie-watching companion is going to sit quietly and watch the movie, I'd rather go alone. When some friends recently suggested a Lord of the Rings marathon, I said no. Not everyone seems to understand that the LOTR films are not talking movies. Don't even get my started on "no eating movies". If someone is laughing while Frodo is leaving for the Grey Havens, there will be blood.

Speaking of blood. Saturday. I went to the movies. Just the pizza I smuggled into my purse and I. We went to go see Drive...finally! I was relieved it was still in theatres because I've been dying to see it since TIFF in September. And...it was awesome! Ryan Gosling is great. Really. I love him. And he is not a good person in this movie either. He hurts people pretty severely. Note: This film is not for those with weak stomachs.

After watching this movie I was feeling a variety of emotions:
  1. Disappointment: Ryan and I would probably never live happily ever after.
  2. Joy/Excitement: The movie was throughly enjoyable.
  3. Angstment/Dispair: Wait a second...I'm an actress, why the heck am I not acting in awesome movies like this?!?! I'M A RECEPTIONIST!!!!!!!! (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
I left the theatre and walked for a very long time. I walked across a bridge with a Crisis Hotline number posted at the opening. I called and we chatted for a while.

"You're a receptionist?!" they said.
"I KNOW!" I said. "But I have the heart of an actress. And one day I want to be in a movie where I stab someone in the chest with a shower curtain rod!"

And from that moment I had new drive (woah, I didn't even try), and once again I am determined to always pretend to be someone else. You know why? Because not everyone is an actress. If they were, they would tell their own stories by acting them out on camera. Since this is not the case...there are those who get paid to act like other people and recreate their life. For the most part I am one who does not get paid to act like other people, but I hope to be paid for this in the future.


A Cat Followed Me Home

i found a cat on my porch today.
he followed me home i guess.
and as soon as i saw this cat i loved him.
(at this point, i'm sure my mother reading this is getting pretty nervous)
i don't even like cats-
with some exceptions.
but i had been thinking yesterday about how i wanted a pet.
(at this point my mother would say, you have a pet, he lives with your dad and i.)
and i thought, my goodness, this cat has been sent by God to be my pet.
i played with him for a while and then went inside, leaving him there.
scat. i said. because there's not really another occasion to use this word...other than when you're talking about singing like a- ...i can't even think of a comparison, but thinking about all this buh, bi, bop, bopidoo, bop bop...is driving me crazy.
i told the cat, he better go ahead and leave, because it would take some self control for me not to take him in as my own.
like in tarzan.
i went inside, took care of some business, though i couldn't help but go back and look out the front door a few minutes later.
the cat was still there.
he needed me.
he loved me.
and i loved him.
(mom: oh brother...)
i went back outside and played with him some more.
then i hear someone call over to me.
it's my neighbour, a couple houses down.
"oh you're playing with Sela!"
'this is YOUR cat???????'
"yes, i have three."
(he has three)
he's pretty.'

and you know he still tried to follow me into my house?
disappointment was followed by relief as i thought about all the hair that would be on my clothes and the filthy litter box i would have to clean out.
that cat already had a home.

and i don't really like cats anyway.