Cram it with walnuts, ugly.

The Intrepid Adventurer.

2007-11-03T01:10:00.001-04:00

Your Nose is So Pink.

2007-11-03T00:52:00.001-04:00

I'm so ridiculously all about Facebook, that I can hardly think about my blog anymore, clearly I lack some sort of mental faculty. But I was reading over past entries and thought, well, don't delete it 'cause it's not that bad. And it's a good exercise in writing for the day when I write the great Canadian novel. (Not with that grammar, says Susan). Bah, that's what editors are for!

I am currently marvelling at the night I had a work. The particular cross section of society that frequent the Y is a nightmarish rainbow of teens and the senile and crackheads. I really don't get paid enough. I mean, I know pretty much everyone thinks that about their job, but:

1) I called 911 tonight
2) had to tell 911 that I didn't need that ambulance after all
3) had a visit from the cops
4) a second ambulance was called, this time for realsies.

And a resident yelled at me because their mail wasn't sealed and...I could go on.

Now I'm shivering in my house that is already too cold and it's only Nov. 3 and I'm hungrier than a lion. This night is going to end in a sandwich and Jowie though, so all is not lost.

You know Blogger, Facebook lets me post photos whenever I want. Suck on that.

More pictures by me.

2007-06-13T22:42:00.001-04:00

I'm going through a black and white phase. It's just classy. If my life was in black and white there'd be a lot less talk of porn.

Internets and the obtaining thereof.

2007-06-13T22:12:00.000-04:00

My coworker is in the process of buying a computer for her daughter, the first household computer. She's worked on them at work, but it remains an intimidating piece of technology for her. I was trying to work up some enthusiasm, being a fan of computers in general and the internets in particular. I explained Google and everything it's spawned, which is all the more impressive if you're not like, technologically jaded.

She then, dear woman, asked if talking to someone from England over the internet was more expensive than someone in North America; basically, are there long distance charges. I didn't laugh, because this woman is lovely and it's not REALLY a dumb question if you haven't grown up with the internets. I explained to her that no, it didn't cost any more and was, in fact, free and that yes, it really was practically instantaneous. I related an anecdote about my conversations with Barb, my erstwhile Australian and I was thinking of our conversation from last night:

me: you're a gutsy businessman, and I respect that
Barb: I'm all about making risky decisions
me: I know. You once wore white shoes after Labour Day, to the disgust of all the other country club wives.
Barb: Not to mention my skullcap that said, "Down with pants! Up with skirts!"
me: well, I'm not sure that was more risque than the white pumps. Either way, you caused quite the scene.
Barb: It's what cause the hundred years war
me: a little-known cause.
maybe I'll write my thesis on that
'On White Pumps and Red Hair: A Guide to the Jerk who Started a Really Long War.'
‘On White Pumps and Red Hair’ could actually be the title of your autobiography

Oh yes, the internets is grand; welcome coworker!

No, I don't know how the picture relates to this entry. I took it off Deanna's website, and I'm sure she stole it from somewhere else.

2007-06-04T22:46:00.000-04:00

All product placement is unseemly, but this is ridiculous:

How Pond's Shaped The Starter Wife.

I really want to live in a world where people don't try and sell me things all the time.

2007-05-28T20:59:00.000-04:00

I'm definitely going to chase off anybody who actually still reads this blog with all the kitty pictures, but I just can't help myself. Look at her! She just opened her eyes. I want to quit my job and play with my cats. There's literally no way that I'm not going to end up as a crazy cat lady.

Happy 23

2007-05-23T08:43:00.000-04:00

I'm wearing this hat at work today.

Beware!

2007-05-22T22:30:00.000-04:00

If you move to Australia, you will end up looking like this. Or so I've told Barb, who is safely ensconced in his new home. No freak crocodile attacks yet to report. I'll keep you posted.

I want to move somewhere. I've been thinking more and more the Working Holiday Visa thing that Jo and I did a couple o' years back. What's so wrong with saying goodbye to Canada for a year or two? I can't really think of anything right now. Eire? Deutschland? We'll see.

That trollop!

2007-05-22T22:15:00.000-04:00

So you know Ellie? The stray? She was pregnant! Chock full of baby kittens. Or baby kitten. She just had one. Momo is pictured above, all sleepy and bent. She'll be two weeks old tomorrow. Incidentally the same day I will be 23 years old.

2007-05-07T22:11:00.000-04:00

I like plants because they stay still. But the thing is, you don't get the oomph from a picture like this like you would if there was a big ol' face stuck in the middle. My goal in general is to take better pictures, but specifically to take better and more pictures of people. Any volunteers?

Smelly Ellie

2007-05-03T11:12:00.000-04:00

Deanna, Brian and I have taken in a stray. She's been living around our house the last couple of days, or at least that's when we started spotting her. She's all fur and bones and Deanna and I took it upon ourselves to feed her when I got home from work yesterday. I wanted to bring her in, but I figured Brian might pitch a fit.

I really am a soft touch.

Later, Brian found her and brought her inside. She seems healthy but she's sleeping a lot. I don't really remember how much Snoopy slept, but I figure Ellie's probably been busy fighting raccoons. Too busy to sleep. So she's making up for lost time, frequently in my bed.

Her name is Ellie.

On Immunity: A diatribe sponsored by my cold.

2007-05-02T17:31:00.000-04:00

Hello Immune System,

I thought we were doing quite well together, I drank orange juice and got eight hours every night and you did your job. People got sick around me, but we were a team, so you made sure that I didn't get whatever they had.

You know that Susan's immune system is laughing at you, right? You remember Susan's wimpy Immune System, it never saw a cold it didn't want to be close, personal friends with. Well, who's sick now? Seriously, you're the laughingstock of the Ten Stanley Immune Systems.

But Jo's sick too, you say? Well, when did we decide it was a good idea to do what Jo does?

Get your act together, you're embarrassing me.

Love,
Toni

My shoes are set in space.

2007-04-29T20:57:00.000-04:00

I like shoes as much as the next person, but not overly a lot and I dislike Mischa Barton as much as the next person, usually Jo, definitely overly a lot. So I was caught of guard when Shoe Fate happened between me and a pair of Keds on Saturday. Susan and Jo both understand Shoe Fate, this I'm sure of. Apparently my grandfather and father don't; they really laughed a lot when I explained the Shoe Fate to them. They also made fun of my new purse and then laughed harder when I tried to explain to them that ten purses weren't too many for one girl.

"Are you really writing in your blog about shoes, dear Toni?", you might be asking yourselves. The more salient question is "Did you seriously take time out of your evening to take pictures of your shoes?"

The answer to both is, of course, a resounding yes.

In other bipedal news, after three long months and one long scar, my dad is walking around again, with some assistance and is terribly proud of himself. As am I. He's doing so well that he may not even need physical therapy.

I want to be Rodney Smith when I grow up.

2007-04-27T19:20:00.000-04:00

Rodney Smith

If I'd gotten Deanna a top hat, this would've been a better tribute.

Danes and Dead Cats.

2007-04-17T20:05:00.000-04:00

Am I wrong or is Danes and Dead Cats a great name for a band?

I'm totally moving to Denmark, in an effort to capture that elusive concept, happiness. I'm told their public transit is clean there, that alone is enough to cross the Atlantic for. I think the guy that sat beside me on the bus today was rotting from the inside out. That's what he smelled like anyway.

In other news, some girl came in to work today wearing the best t-shirt ever. If you're a gigantic nerd. I told her like five times that I loved her shirt. My fellow coworkers tried to understand why I was happy about a shirt that said someones cat was dead/not dead. I tried to explain that I wasn't excited about dead cats but rather the theorem from which this awesome t-shirt has sprung. "No Pam, I'm not excited about dead cats, but about the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's about waves and particle duality and collapse ...Heisenberg...theoretical physics. I'll just be quiet over here and get some real work done instead of flexing my nerd muscles, shall I?"

Smartness

2007-04-14T01:06:00.000-04:00

Tell me the truth, are you really surprised?

Spending 176 million dollars on abstinence only education is a crime. Give me 176 million dollars instead, I could do something with that kind of cheese.

Adopt-a-Jo.

2007-04-09T21:02:00.000-04:00

"My name's Jo, I'm terribly adorable. I've been looking for a good home, any takers?"

I wanted to play with this in Photoshoppe, but I hated everything I did to it. I even managed to make bacon-face, which we'd theorized was only possible due to my Irish, pink-skinned roots. It's the first picture in a while that I've been really satisfied with.

Have you heard?

2007-04-04T23:11:00.000-04:00

Susan's totally into me.

That's totally my knee.

Possibly because I'm Irish. You can tell us apart because of the green hats.

Jo is NOT down.

We don't care, we'll be happy forever. Except....gasp...what is that written on my hand?

Sorry Susan, a gaggle of men stole my heart long ago. You know it's true because it was scribed onto my hand by a mysterious stranger, in permanent marker.

DDR

2007-04-04T22:57:00.000-04:00

Barb tells me that one of his friends is performing some sort of musical number at the eBar on Thursday with DDR mats. That's right people, Dance Dance Revolution.

Where will I be, you ask?

Working. Like a sucker! I never thought I'd work at a place where I'd be glad that there was a sheet of glass and a couple of locked doors between me and the people in the building. Did you know that bus drivers in England have their own little glassed in area? I think they do everywhere, but at the very least, this particular bus line in the East Midlands where we were working did. As a frequent taker of buses now, I wouldn't want to drive without a solid barrier between me and the crazies I was chauffeuring around.

Barb will be there at the eBar, drooling over the DDR mats. He's a fiend. One time we went to a movie, Lady in the Water (which sucked a big nutsack), I believe, and after it was finished we had some time before we could catch the bus back. Barb decided he should probably bust a move on the DDR in the arcade area of the theatre which was, as ever, occupied exclusively by the prepubescent. And ardent DDR lovers, apparently.

Some old lady stood there and stared at him while he went at it like a fiend (amazed by his talent, Barb claims) and there was some little girl crying in the corner as this red-headed monster danced his hairy little heart out.

That little girl was probably me. True story.

I can post pictures again!

2007-04-01T20:35:00.000-04:00

It was winter and I took pictures. I haven't snapped any Spring ones yet. There've been no baby ducks walking in a row for me to capture on not-film. Not yet.

2007-04-01T20:30:00.000-04:00

Little Children was a good movie, even though the random bloodshed near the end really grossed me out. And these two people are ridiculously good looking. Share the wealth, would you? Jeez.

My Question for You

2007-04-01T20:10:00.000-04:00

Does the world really need another Pussycat Doll? Aren't there like, 27.2 already?

I was going to nap. I had a long day at work that started before the sun was up. So I sprawled on the couch in my oldest, grossest track suit (track suits are, by definition, old and gross) and turned on the telly. There's nothing compelling on Sunday evenings. (Except BSG. But I saw the finale for that last week. OMG, etc. And I can't squeal about it properly, because I don't think any of you appreciate it properly and Barb, who claims to be a slacker and a nerd of the highest order, has fallen behind in his BSG). So I thought I'd just turn on the Food Network and fall asleep to the always yummy, Jamie Oliver.

I made the mistake of turning on MuchMusic. That channel really has crapped it up over the last couple of years. Or is that just something you think once you pass the age of 14? Perhaps I will test my hypothesis on Deanna, who can't get enough of Much right now.

I guess The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll is a lot like America's Next Top Model: vapid whores concerned with being sexy. And, you know, I love America's Next Top Model, but hate the Search for the Next Pussycat Doll on principle.

There was, is, a marathon on. A Pussycat Doll marathon. Now, I may have watched MOST of the first episode when it was on, you know, before. I firmly maintain, however, that that was almost entirely because they all got sick and it was really hilarious watching them try to be sexy while vomiting.

I'm not a good person. You're not surprised.

But then I watched one today and no one vomited (on camera), and then I watched another one. And then I started rooting for someone and I just thought to myself, "Toni, you are becoming emotionally invested in this show with more short shorts than you like to see in an hour of television, turn it off before your brain drips out of your ear."

I shouldn't be left alone. Clearly, I can't be trusted. Also, I feel like I've been working forever and haven't seen anybody in forever. The stupid shift I was covering means I haven't seen Deanna since Tuesday and I haven't seen my ladies in a fortnight. And that just makes me sad. Paychecks are nice, but so is having a social life.

Mood Music

2007-03-07T21:44:00.000-05:00

At work the phones throughout the building are rigged up so that we can have them tuned to a radio station or a CD playing in the room behind the front desk. Usually we have an oldies station on. Fairly unobjectionable. My father used to listen to oldies exclusively before he took a walk on the wild side with our local easy listening station, so I grew up on the good stuff.

But today, for some reason, the woman in charge of keeping our ANCIENT computers/computer system running came down and put a CD on. It was called Songs of the Millennium and left me with a few questions.

1) Who owns a CD of muzak?
2) Who designated muzak songs as songs of the Millennium?
3) Why would you subject me to that for eight straight hours?

And I couldn't help but notice the similarity between this particular CD of muzak and the soundtrack to every single soft core porn sex scene I've ever seen. It's uncanny! Take it from someone who knows. At a few points during the day, according to the music, my fellow front-desker and I should've taken all our clothes off and got freaky with the maintenance staff in anatomically-improbable positions.

That is not what I signed up for.

2007-03-02T19:00:00.000-05:00

Still unable to post pictures! Can't move the blog to wordpress.com because I'm using the new blogger and I can't transfer all my old junk!

Damn it!

I guess Facebook will be my only picture posting outlet. You know, until I fix Java on my computer. Which will probably be never.

Also, if you're looking for deep, psychological insight into geeks and redheads check out the awesomely named 'The Various Adventures of a Contemporary Steampunk'. My beloved Barb blogs, now with 95% less emo angst.

Popery

2007-03-01T23:26:00.000-05:00

How is it possible that children are still being confirmed on a night like this? Clearly the Bishop is off his rocker.

Everything else is closed, but I guess it was too much to hope that the Catholic Church would wise up and confirm the kids next week.

Eat me Bishop.

I'm filled with unnatural amounts of irritation towards everyone and everything right now.

I totally forgot that the Bishop asks the kids questions before he confirms them. It's possible I was drunk/slept through my confirmation. Actually, I vaguely remember sweating and hoping the Bishop didn't call on me. He didn't, as far as I remember.
***
So now we're post-confirmation and I can honestly say...meh. The night, taken as a whole, wasn't the worst thing in the world and I really like dressing up Deanna and playing with her hair, like she's a large walking and talking doll. With opinions. Dinner afterwards was pretty nice too.

The service itself, however, was interminable. And made me interminably angry.

Every so often I find myself thinking about the Church with affectionate disdain, rather than, I suppose, only disdain. 'Sure they're crusty and misguided fuddy duddies' I say to myself, 'but they're MY crusty and misguided fuddy duddies.' I mean, I've been watered and oiled and ashed and communioned and confirmed...all the Rites of Initiation. Being Catholic means something to me, I tell myself, there's history there, and I like history.

But then. Then things like the Confirmation remind me why I don't go to church (beyond the requisite laziness come Sunday morning). The Bishop decided that he was going to take advantage of his huge captive audience to scold.

I get it, I really do. Going to church is important if you want to call yourself a Catholic and mean it and Thou shalt be guilty is like the Eleventh Commandment for Catholics. But seriously, Bishop Balls-for-Brains, you didn't make me feel guilty about avoiding church whenever humanly possible last night, you just made me angry that Deanna was being subjected to the bullshit spewing out of your mouth.

Deanna's smart and I know she probably knows better, but when he said things like 'you can't be a good and moral person without God' or, even more rage-inspiring 'today's culture is obsessed with worshipping the false god of science' or when he told girls that they had to be modest lest society objectify them, I just wanted to run down the middle aisle screaming and haul Deanna out lest any of that hogwash seep into her impressionable brain.

That Bishop and that mass is why people hate religion. Religion should make you feel like an integral cog in an ancient machine. It should make you wonder and marvel and celebrate.

But it's been a long time, if ever, since the Church has done that for me.

Negativity isn't the way to get people back to the Church and it certainly isn't the way to inspire religious devotion in children. Embrace science, embrace change, embrace women, Bishop Jerkface.

Or don't. Because I've sworn off of Confirmations and Bishops.

Rambling and the Interruption of the Space Time Continuum.

2007-02-24T13:02:00.000-05:00

Well, father's knee surgery is all done. He's supposed to get out of the hospital today. And I'm sleeping again.

I was thinking earlier about how, when we were both quite a bit younger, I'd forget to feed Deanna lunch. Sometimes. When I was a teenager, not so long ago, I'd get up around 11 and not eat until 2 or 3. Poor Deanna had been up since 7 and, breakfast long behind her, would just go about her business, until I remembered that she needed to eat.

How is this kid not more messed up? I'll have to buy her some sort of guilt snack while we're at the mall today. Many a present have I purchased for Deanna fueled by the concern that I've screwed her up forever. That's what we call good parenting in these parts.

I blame all this nostalgia on the fact that Brian and I are both in the house on a Saturday afternoon. It's been approximately fifteen million years since that happened. When I'm here, he's visiting his girlfriend. When he's here, I'm off visiting my best ladies. But apparently there's trouble in paradise, so Brian is stuck here this weekend and The Space Time Continuum has been thrown entirely out of whack.

So if clocks start flying around your house and your cat starts talking, I'm v. v. sorry. That's what I assume would happen if the Space Time Continuum ran into trouble. And I'm not really sorry about the cat talking thing, because that would just be cool.

Okay, I'll stop now. Humblest apologies.

Insomniac Attack

2007-02-22T01:42:00.000-05:00

Apparently it's that time of year. The time where I don't sleep. I'm awake and cold and angry about being awake and cold.

It was inevitable, I've reached that point where my job is no longer new and exciting. I no longer skip to the bus stop in anticipation of the day ahead. I don't hate it, but I am unable to muster up the enthusiasm I once did. Some lady yelled at me today for not being 'Deanna'. Sorry lady, I was born this way. Another lady got angry at me because she'd lost her car keys. Sorry lady, I got bored, decided to steal some keys.

The hot roofer, mentioned in the previous blog, is still working around the building. My girl boner for him has only increased in size with our interactions and his ridiculously beautiful smile. I thought about wearing one of my favourite work-inappropriate shirts today and flirting shamelessly. Then I wised up and decided I didn't want to get fired/called a hooker.

I've hardly seen Deanna since I started on my regular shift at work. I think she's gotten taller. In the past three days. Sneaky jerk. She spent fifteen minutes getting ready for bed tonight. How is that possible when you're twelve and you spend approximately 2.7 seconds brushing your teeth? It concerns me that her ways are becoming mysterious to me.

Also? My dad is in the hospital. He fell last week and broke his knee cap. Had he gotten his knee checked out right away, he probably wouldn't have had to have the surgery. But because he is a bonehead, he waited and now has to have his knee cap pinned back together. This is probably the reason I'm not sleeping, even though he sounds fine and I claim that I'm not worried. I guess I am. I hate my brain. I'd rather be manifestly worried at a decent hour of the day and able to sleep at night. Boo everything.

Employee of the Week.

2007-02-09T15:38:00.000-05:00

Training at work is kind of like being a toddler. Everyone is very patient with you and when you do well they tell you how amazing you are. Well, that's what it was like for ME as a toddler. Back when everyone still thought I was cool.

But I've been on straight days this week which means I'm getting up before six AM. That's just wrong, where I come from. But they let me play with a walkie-talkie at work, and I'm fairly certain I've already discussed how much I enjoy that. I have, thus far, resisted the urge to give the maintenance men code names, the better to communicate over the walkie-talkie. It's been a very near thing.

I'm also like, in heat or something. Working where I do, I see a lot of people stream in and out of the building, but my favourite, by far, are all the contractors we have working there. Roof and electrical right now, and I must say, I've been molesting them with my eyes. And hands.

I told Susan I was going to sabotage the pants off the roofer. I'm so getting arrested.

Also? I nearly assaulted a SWAT-esque guy while I was down at the police station getting my background check done. It was hardly my fault. They shouldn't walk around with their full uniform, flak jacket and thigh holster on. That's just irresponsible. I can see how it could have gone badly, but in my head there was a lot more tearing off of my clothes and a lot less "ma'am, I'm going to have to cuff you if you don't cease and desist."

2007-02-04T15:53:00.000-05:00

It's too cold to live. And the garbage cans outside keep blowing away. Fuck life.

Shut up World!

2007-02-02T16:21:00.000-05:00

I have a friggen hell ass job. Not a temp position. Not seasonal work. A real goddamn job.

No more sitting around in a robe all day long for me! No more wallowing in my own filth!

Well, maybe sometimes. On special occasions.

I was going to post a picture of me doing something celebratory, but I can't unearth anything appropriate. You'll just have to cobble something together in your mind.

Guelph to celebrate the anniversary of Jo's birthday tomorrow!

Internets

2007-01-25T16:38:00.000-05:00

Facebook is ruining my life. I already have this sick blog thing going on, a couple of years running and when I first joined facebook I was like. Meh. Whatever. I see these people everyday. But now. NOW! People from elementary school have found me. Well, a person. Who knows other people. It's a network of people, you see.

In the interest of finding just how sickening this Facebook thing could get, I looked up my ollllllllld crush. He used to live across the hall from me, back when I was still slumming it in public school. His name was Joey. He's going by Joe now. He's grown up to be fairly non-gargoylish except for some questionable facial hair choices and now, thanks to the magic of Facebook, I know that one of his hobbies is drinking. How interesting and original.

I had this blog linked to my Facebook page and I removed it on the double when the stealthy elementary school people found me. I did it on impulse and I don't really know why. Probably has something to do with the fact that I just don't remember elementary school fondly. Especially the Catholic Years. There was 174 kids in the entire school and they'd been in school together since forever and I moved there in grade 6 and they (almost) all had a serious case of the Toni-Disdain. Possibly because I was obviously uncool and they were afraid it was going to rub off.

Now I'm just thinking of random people to look up on Facebook for the hell of it. I must be stopped.

Snow Day.

2007-01-15T11:54:00.000-05:00

Snoooooooowday! It's a snow day! Well, it's an ice day. Deanna is trapped in the house with me, lucky kid that she is and so, I have a playmate today. We'll count Monday in the 'good' column so far. I don't want to have kids, for many reasons that Susan's expressed eloquently and also because I am a paranoid maniac and I can't imagine how much I'd worry if it was actually my own spawn running around in this world full of pimps and chuds and Paris Hilton and being parented by me. However, this sister thing is finally turning out all right.

Finally finished Master and Commander. Perhaps my judgement was a little harsh. It was well written, I guess I'm just not meant for life at sea. I just think, if you're going to have that many men in a confined space with nothing to do, you should have them kiss more often.

Saturday and Sunday were also counted for the 'good' column. I didn't have my camera though, so you're just going to have to trust that I had a good time. Good time due in large part to the fact that I was drinking Polar Bears all night, which taste like After Eights and not at all like rubbing alcohol like my good friend Vodka. Of course, once Barb said that drinking a Polar Bear tasted like sucking off a Polar Bear, that's what I told everybody. The drama students appreciated it I think. A lot of people mentioned the lack of fur in polar bear the drink v. polar bear the blow job, like that's something I'd be missing.

God, acting like a moron is so much better than acting like a grown up. And I'm so good at it.

Orientation meeting for a possible job with a woman's organization on Thursday. First the orientation, then a two hour job shadow and THEN they decide who they want to interview. Being proactive, I've decided to start worrying about the interview now. I already thought up a joke in the shower that had something to do with windows. Bringing the 'A' game.

Die book, DIE!

2007-01-12T21:08:00.000-05:00

Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian is the book that's going to kill me.

I knew it was about ships. I just didn't know that 300 of it's 330 pages were going to be about SAILS.

It's the book that won't end. I've been reading it off and on since last year. I've finished FIFTEEN other books since I started it. I want to light it on fire. But then I won't be able to cross it off my book list.

If it was about S&M, as the title might suggest to those people possessing a filthy mind (certainly not me), it'd be more interesting.

My life has taken a turn for the uninteresting, as I'm unemployed again. It's not quite Master and Commander territory, but we're getting close. God, I hate saying that I'm unemployed. I hate thinking about it. There's nothing I don't hate about being unemployed except, perhaps, for all of the Scrubs episodes I have time to watch. Really REALLY doesn't make up for it.

Also? Blogger still won't let me post pictures. I hate you blogger.

My Lil' Geniuses

2007-01-09T19:57:00.000-05:00

ETA: There was SUPPOSED to be a kick ass picture of Jowie and Barb here but Blogger, like the rest of the world, hates me. So you'll just have to imagine the two of them here, doing funny things.

I believe they were drawing a pentagram to sacrifice virgins upon. Two heads are better than one when it comes to sacrificing virgins.

I think the neighbours loved us a lot.

To Jo, who had a crappy day, and to Susan who may or may not have had a crappy day.

Cosmo.

2007-01-02T21:33:00.000-05:00

God I love photoshop. I think I'd commit murder for it, if it asked real nicely.

Resolute.

2007-01-02T21:32:00.000-05:00

I really hate New Year's Resolutions. I know that's at least in part due to the fact that when I still made them I never managed to keep them, but seriously, who does? I mean, I get it, new year new beginning. Everyone wants to get better. It's not the sentiment I hate as much as the sheer banality of most resolutions. Of course everyone wants to get fit and smoke less. That's what everyone wants all the time.

Susan's resolution last year was to work on her posture. While my general policy towards resolutions remains, I applaud Susan for her ability to think up an appropriately random aspect of her life that she wanted to work on.

If anybody asks me what my New Year's Resolution is I'm going to tell them that I'm giving up cocaine. "Yeah, it's going really well. I haven't had a DROP of cocaine this year." "I've always heard that getting off drugs was hard but I don't really know what people are talking about. I said on Jan 1 that I wasn't going to have anymore cocaine and I didn't." "I'm the picture of sobriety."

This is not to say, that I don't have hopes and dreams for 2007 that don't include dropping a fake drug habit. I hope that I don't spend all of next year in Canada, for one.

Another Plug.

2006-12-26T14:06:00.000-05:00

I'd like to give a firm handshake to whoever is in charge of Rhetorical Letters.

This post was particularly amusing.

Plug.

2006-12-26T14:02:00.000-05:00

Jo totally wrote a Christmas letter. Generally I think it's kind of a dumb tradition. But this one is full of lies which automatically means it's amazing. Yep, all lies. Except for that part where I love man on man lovin' and the part where Jo's into trees.

So go read it why don't you?

Yuletide Cheer.

Cold Toes.

2006-12-26T13:44:00.000-05:00

Someone has stolen all my socks. Or put them somewhere I can't find them. My house is always cold and my feet are always cold and I have no slippers so I'm stuck with socks and now I'm like the Sock Scavenger. I managed to find a sock of mine that's probably 8.5 years old with a small whole where the big toe is and one of Brian's work socks. One foot is very warm and the other is jealous. Perhaps the key to my sock problem is to steal all of Brian's. He'll never know what hit him.

I love Christmas Days that carry on for two days and the only kid involved is the one I love the best in all the world.

Spent yesterday with my mom's side of the family and although I only see them once a year, it's really a pleasure spending time with my cousins now that they're adults-ish, like me. Looking back at embarrassing photos of us taken at Christmas time (the only time we're all in one room together) was pretty awesome too. There was one year my mom dressed me (or allowed me to dress in) a purple velvet dress. My hair accessory? Was a small gold-wrapped present with ribbons springing from it. My mom didn't like me much. In the same picture, my cousins, Amanda and Gillian, were in matching loudly-patterned-possibly-plaid dresses with black velvet and lace, so I take some comfort in the fact that their mom didn't like them either.

I'm going to find this picture and post it here if it's the last thing I do.

In other news, I have a ridiculous number of pictures, nearly 4 gigs worth (and I can't help but think that that is equal to the amount of memory Jowie had on her ANCIENT computer in first year) so I'm trading in the flash drive I got from the grandparentals for a deeply discounted external hard drive that is, in fact, bigger than my entire computer.

Do your worst computer gods, I'm getting some back up!

Uh. Please don't do your worst. Don't do anything at all.

Vanity Fair is God.

2006-12-23T17:38:00.000-05:00

The first time I bought the magazine it was for the pretty pictures. I was shallow that way. And the last issue I bought has Brad Pitt in his underwear on the cover. I'm still shallow that way.

Turns out though, they also have amazing articles. I know, you're all shocked. I'm reading one on their website right now about the death of Neo-conservatism. It's brilliant. You should go read it.

Neo Culpa.

Turns out Rummy DID suck. And so did Powell and Rice and Bremer and Cheney and Bush and everyone.

"So we were sending American forces in harm's way, with full combat capability to support them, helicopters overhead, to move goddamn ice from Kuwait to Baghdad."

There are no words and that's not even the most disgusting thing in the article.

This post was going to be a rant about how much I despise Gwen Stefani. Somehow, this seems like time better spent.

Hey, if you're celebrating Christmas, Merry Christmas and if you're celebrating other stuff, enjoy that too. Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Other Stuff! Happy Eid! (to everyone but Jo. Where's my damn pajamas?)

Another from the vault.

2006-12-20T13:48:00.000-05:00

Things I didn't say to customers because it would only land me in a bigger pile of foul-smelling things volume ten million:

Dear Lady,

Hi, remember me? I'm the one you yelled at to work faster while you ordered 18 FUCKING sheets of photos and got 5 phone calls from your, darling I'm sure, children. This was, in case you were wondering, while my manager was on an HOUR lunch break and on one of the busiest days that we've had.

It make come as a surprise to you, but I'm not god. When the computers fucking crash and I loose your entire order, I can't snap my fingers and make it reappear. It was your decision to leave and let me re-add the photos and I'm real, real sorry that it didn't come out right but you got a bunch of free shit so if you'd just bugger off so I can start pretending that I never met you or that you don't exist, that'd be great.

Love,
Toni

In which I still love Susan and Jo more than almost anything else.

2006-12-18T15:17:00.000-05:00

Well Susan and Jo came down this weekend and as you might expect, it was the BESTEST thing ever and I love them tragically. I write one of these OMG-did-you-guys-know-that-Subu-and-Jowie-are-cool-and-I-love-them blogs every time they come over, and although I'm sure it's your most favouritest thing ever, I'm going to limit this to funny pictures. Purely self-indulgent tripe. Just like the rest of this blog! Continuity I am thy faithful servant.

This first one is for our theoretical Christmas card. We decided that what really sells it is Susan's expression. Jo and I are thinking. Susan's just stumped!

This is the picture we wanted. To mark the occasion.
This is what kept happening to my face. On this particular occasion, I specifically said 'Sober' before the picture was taken, to avoid the drunken expression from the frame before. I got the opposite reaction I was hoping for and killed Susan a little bit in the process.

Drinking a whipped-cream topped beverage together is like getting married. Big step. This Tirasmoothie sucked though. Just so we're clear.

v.v. sleepy.

2006-12-13T22:13:00.000-05:00

You remember when you were a kid and making a Christmas list was the easiest thing on the planet? There were a million things that you wanted and you wanted them all desperately and how much you really needed them never entered your mind? Those were the days! I had a great deal of trouble making a Christmas list for the various interested parties which is a concern as I would very much like to receive things.

I must've missed the day in Kindergarten where we learned that giving is better than receiving. It's only with Deanna that I would rather give than receive and that probably has a lot to do with her poor taste in slippers meant for me. I'm probably going to buy her Clue because I want to play Clue and if that makes me a bad person....well, it's hardly a surprise at this point.

The gingerbread house is going to be eaten. The pine tree and snowmen are long gone. Jo told me not to, despite her promise to move in and lick my gingerbread house all over. Okay, I'm not imagining that that last part sounded dirty right? It's covered in M&Ms and icing, how are we supposed to resist?

Tomorrow is my day off and I'm probably going to go to the library and the drug store and try to watch Dances With Wolves (again) because I have the sexiest life ever. Maybe I'll do it all in bondage gear. That'd serve you right.

Possibly I am too tired to be writing in this blog without frightening people. Mostly I'm writing here so I won't crawl into bed. I should stay up late on the night leading to my day off, after all.

Well that's certainly more than enough for tonight.

Today.

2006-12-12T20:05:00.000-05:00

Woke up with massive migraine. Once it was gone the day got immeasureably better.

Item 1- I'm still awesome.

Jowie: good thinking toni, that's what's we call you

Toni: you should probably get me a shirt made....so everyone knows

Jowie: done and done

Toni: that's good...'cause i'm definitely going to need a new shirt...the one i've got on has chilli stains on it.

Item 2- Susan is still in love with me.

Subu: I do TOO care that you're the hulk!!

Toni: HAHAHAHAH

WHATEVER...YOU'VE WOUNDED MY BIG GREEN HEART

Subu: nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

come on, baby... I didn't mean it
you can rip your shirt off and smash shit for me anytime
...

Toni: AHAHAHAHAH....you're so hot for me, it's ridiculous

Subu: yeah... I'm gonna need to hose down my loins in a minute or two

Item 3- The Gingerbread House

Despite the fact that it included the "word" E-Z (seriously, it's four letters, you're only missing ONE CHARACTER in your abbreviation, how much time did it really save you?) in it's instruction guide, Deanna and I built a kickin' gingerbread house out of the kit I bought. Topped with cheap icing and festive M&Ms. Furthermore, it is completely structurally sound and the roof was NOT sliding off halfway through the building process

The front walkway:
Our structurally sound roof:

2006-12-12T10:52:00.000-05:00

Important news people: I'm off to the grocery store to buy the materials to make a gingerbread mansion that will cause your teeth to melt just by looking at it. If the results are impressive, I will post pictures here. If they are not, I will cry in a corner somewhere.

I thought I was done with the other store...I may have done a little dance even, but they've sucked me back in for Friday. Someone's dad died, so I guess I shouldn't be thinking about how it affects me. I GUESS. But I can't help but remember last Friday, what was supposed to be my final day at the other store, when a customer yelled at me for a good twenty minutes and called the store manager to tattle on me, all over a misunderstanding about a fucking 7.99 ornament!

And? Mad props to Carly for her stupendously named Chrismukkah Party. I loved the first Season of the OC (before it became Dynasty for anyone 16-24) and I would marry Seth Cohen if I could. That is all.

PSA

2006-12-06T21:36:00.000-05:00

Dear Monsters...I mean, Picture Picker-Uppers,

When I am delivering your photos I cannot do the following things:

1) help the fact that the lab has printed extra. If you don't want them, don't take them. I promise I'm not going to take the pictures of your children home and use them for target practice or rub them all over my nubile body. We. Just. Put. Them. In. A. Drawer.
2) change the size of pictures that you ordered weeks ago.
3) go back in time and make your child look like they don't have a cold.
4) go back in time and make your child good looking.

I CAN do the following things:
1) Print you a receipt.
2) Get you a bag.
3) Resist the urge to punch you right in the face.

I would LIKE to do the following things:

1) Punch all of you whiners in the face.
2) Do the deliveries drunk, cocktail in hand.
3) Not do the deliveries at all.

Also, dear customers, I'd like to remind you that, as of next week, I'm no longer working at that location, so you can complain to me all you like, it's not going to make me give a fuck about your situation.

I've included an illustration of how you appear in my mind's eye. I am, of course, the damsel you're torturing in your hand there.

Thank you for your time,
Toni Bank.

Frosty.

2006-12-04T15:47:00.000-05:00

Jo has the best pictures from our sojourn to Guelph, ie. ones of actual people. I got drunk and lazy. So all I'm posting here is a picture that is remarkably clear considering how inebriated I was when I took it. Inebriated and rushed, as Evan yelled at me to stop being arty so we could go order pizza. Eventually, it was delicious.

Also, as we walked home we wrote our names in the frost on the tops of cars. This was supposed to read Alex + Toni = Awesome but I couldn't get the camera up high enough to get it all in. You get the idea. Excellent penmanship for 3 AM.

G-U-E-L-P-H

2006-12-03T14:37:00.000-05:00

Saturday after work I showered off the baby stink and, at the urging of my good friend Jo, decided to take drunk, slutty-shirted Toni out for a night on the town. The Albion was amazing. At times more crowded than I cared for, but I got drunk pretty quickly and all the body-squishing didn't matter after that.

I got hugged, licked, humped and groped. Drama students are like happy, horny puppies.

So pretty much the best night I've had in a long time.

Then there was hangover breakfast with Jo and my two favourite red heads, Thrillica and Barb. So good.

Pictures are sure to follow but now I'm off to my grandparents' for fun that is sure to be a great deal more wholesome than the fun I had last night.

Your popcorn is extraordinary!

2006-11-29T22:35:00.000-05:00

Extraordinarly salty, that is. There is a Kernels in one of the malls I work in and they have some sort of half off the second bag deal going on. Fellow picture palace butt monkey, Jillian, and I indulged. And it was my dinner as well as my after work snack. I could've eaten something with some sort of redeeming nutrional value, but I did not. At least try to act surprised.

Tomorrow is my day off, as is Sunday. ANNNNNNNNNND Tuesday too! Which means, I have two days off next week! Thrilling. Minor-orgasm inducing. Perhaps I'll actually get some Christmas shopping done. Because I'm constantly bombarded by Christmas pictures and Christmas music, it seems like Christmas is tomorrow. But really, it's still November. And still disturbingly balmy. I live in Canada, by November 29th I should be freezing my bazongas off.

Brain vomit.

2006-11-28T18:14:00.000-05:00

I've been listening to Tom Jones lately. And loving it. Unironically. In particular, I've been enjoying Sex Bomb and You Can Leave Your Hat On.

Tom Jones: Not just for old ladies anymore!

Also, this picture is clearly the sexiest thing ever. There's nothing like a fine pelt showing through your buttoned down shirt.

I meant to write a blog about my weekend and how much I love everyone in Guelph and then I forgot. So here it is: you're all awesome and your one acts made me giggle! Seeing Chris fondling his own boobies, however, was something I could probably have done without.

Spending time with humans that I'm not related to and not selling pictures to was a necessary restorative to my sanity. Mad props as usual, to Susan and Jow for being awesome. Glad we didn't all die in some sort of fog induced accident.

Perhaps something more coherent on Thursday. For 'tis my day off!

Late.

2006-11-20T20:49:00.000-05:00

They let me out of work early today! What a joy! To celebrate, I bought myself a shirt. Having an income is a miraculous thing.

We were so behind in the morning.

Some more advice for any parent that is considering getting their family portrait taken.

1)Do not book your appointment for 10:00 am to 12:00 pm. We will not be on time. I guarantee it. Everyone tries to beat nap time.

2) If you're getting pictures taken on the weekend during the holiday season, double the time you expect to spend with us, bring provisions and maybe a little pillow. We will not be on time.

3) Don't schedule any other appointments for the day you get your pictures taken. You will not be on time.

Seriously, by the time 12:30 hit today, we were 45 minutes behind. The log jam starts in the camera rooms. Turns out, when anyone under the age of 10 is involved, it's hard to get six (or more) useable shots in 15 minutes. Yet we schedule for both camera rooms every 15 minutes.

By the time customers get to me, they've been waiting forever and are often carrying a screaming and/or poopy child. I'm expected to try and foist as many pictures and as much merchandise onto these people as possible. I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with it. Kudos to the people that come prepared to spend a bunch of money though, you are my saving grace, even if I think you're a little crazy.

I'm not cut out for a career in sales. I know, you're all shocked.

2006-11-19T20:25:00.000-05:00

If I had a flying bison my life would be so much better. Appa comes with a giant tail with which I could thwack my enemies out of existence. Also, there's plenty of seating and leg room.

Christmas is only a month and six days away. You guys could pool your resources.

Don't punch my baby.

2006-11-19T18:38:00.000-05:00

As lifelong customer, first time service sector employee, I never realized how friggen' needy customers were. I suppose it's the volume of customers I've been subjected to this weekend. It's all, "Can you crop this? What's on a sheet? I wish my kid was smiling. Don't punch my baby."

And no, we cannot superimpose the face of one of your kids from another picture onto the family pose you like so much. We're a digital studio, not magicians. Stop asking me. It's not really that funny.

Seriously customers, you all need to get together and talk to each other. I'm tired of repeating myself. I'm going to tell one of you our prices and sheets and then you can spread it around, telephone-game-style.

And to the babies of the world: I'm feeling kindly disposed to you, despite the fact that you're not all on your best behaviour. I feel bad for you, because your parents seem a little insane. I'm sure the indignity of having your butt sniffed in a public area, checking for poopy drawers, is hard to stand. However, please remember that I'm your friend, and I can't catch the ball you're throwing if you're tossing it at the back of my head.

My family is particularly outraged that I don't get a lunch break on the weekends. I tell them that I'm just glad that I get bathroom breaks. 'Cause even that's not a given on Saturday and Sunday. Grandpa says I should form a union.

I did, for the record, feel better leaving than I did going in. So I guess that's something.

Not Dead. Not Yet.

2006-11-16T21:51:00.000-05:00

Just working for the man. Also, my blog isn't registering any visitors any more. So everyone ran for the hills all at the same time. I'm big enough to admit that writing in this thing holds a great deal less interest for me if no one's reading it. Why am I writing now then, you ask? Good question, dear fellow.

Nevertheless.

I'm working at not one but two picture places now, filled with scary mothers and their often adorable but sometimes inescapably ugly children. I'm definitely catching baby fever. They're small, and they mostly smell good and they all smile at me. It's my funny face, or so I've been told.

I wanted to go to a birthday party this weekend and I wanted to go see Suzie Goo. However, work and illness have conspired against me and alas, I'm stuck here. Oh frabjous day!

Today was my day off this week. And it was all foggy and gorgeous. So. Pictures!

Trick or Treat

2006-11-01T13:14:00.000-05:00

2006-11-01T11:33:00.000-05:00

Brian, brandishing his new nail gun: See the thing is, I'm like Tim the Tool Man.
Toni: In that your home improvement projects invariably end in catastrophe?

A Sadist and Misanthrope.

2006-10-30T16:57:00.000-05:00

I very nearly got ditched by Deanna for Halloween tomorrow. That would've severely limited the amount of candy I could lay claim to. This way I can say, "I was right there walking with you too! You OWE me that tiny Jersey Milk bar."

In other hilarious news I've been berated by someone I don't even know through the power of the internets! Now, Jo and Susan have threatened my life at various intervals and they never let an opportunity to threaten me with a punch to the box pass them by, but neither of them has ever said that it's a "pity people like you are allowed to survive." No, really, go read it. Read the entry and then scroll to the comments.

You were quite right Nick, I laughed and laughed. I particularly liked the part where my attitude towards the fictional marmosets was provided as a parallel to my attitude towards the potential fruit of my loins. Keith was right, I've already picked a dumpster to dispose of the as-yet-unborn little Jimmy and little Pepe, hating them as I do all God's creatures.

Unlike Keith, my coworkers are definitely starting to feel the Toni-love. I tend to think of myself as an acquired taste, and they are acquiring a taste friends. This doesn't provide me with any sort of job security, and I'm barely getting enough hours to support my book habit but it does make work a much more pleasant place to go. And when I screw up, they're all very nice to me.

"That's the problem with the American Dream, it makes everyone concerned about the day they're going to be rich."

2006-10-25T09:49:00.000-04:00

Sweet Jesus! I just watched Ways and Means from the third season of the West Wing. It's everything that's good about that show and it's Sorkin doing what he does best. The staff is fast and witty and working like a well-oiled machine. Sorkin manages to make you care about issues and big words and at the same time he makes you care about the people and their relationships and how they're doing their job.

You should all download it. Season 3, episode 3. And by download, I of course mean purchase legally. I know I did!

The only way this episode could've been better is if my dearest Susan had been at my side, squealing at the cuteness of Cliff and Donna, despite the fact that he's a Republican and she's clearly meant to be with Josh.

Watch it. Watch it right now!
And that's quite enough of that.

This is where God would come if he had to quit blow.

2006-10-16T23:46:00.000-04:00

Yeah, my title is hopelessly derivative. All of the good ones are. I hate writing titles. I wrote the quote down in my paper journal sometime on the weekend but I have no idea where I heard it. Possibly Lewis Black on the Daily Show?

It was a crisp Autumn day, ridiculously idyllic and it was my weekend with Deanna in this ridiculous custody agreement I've had going on with my step-dad since my Mom died, coming up on a decade now. The arrangement is as follows: he tries to be a father as little as possible and I try to remember that I'm supposed to have a life. Oh yes, I'm bitter.

Saturday I attempted to cook for my family, with mixed results, and then attempted to navigate the emotional mindfield that is a young brain, also with mixed results. I didn't really have high hopes for Sunday.

And then it was a amazing. We saw three waterfalls and approximately 17.8 million red and gold leaves. There was Sun and puppies and ponies. I slid down a muddy hill (in pursuit of a photographic opportunity) like the graceful butterfly I am and whenever Deanna could get her hands on my camera, she took pictures of my muddy ass. Deanna was happy, Grandpa was happy, I was happy. Autumn rules!

Working Girl.

2006-10-16T23:30:00.000-04:00

Working in a portrait studio is going to be an exercise in the ridiculous, I can just feel it. Mostly my responsibilities today consisted of reading the manual and signing forms and getting affixed with a nametag and an employee discount. In the large manual that I had to read, amongst the many reminders that the customer is always right, the word glamorize appeared at least twice. When I'm presenting the picture options to people, I'm supposed to glamorize their photos. The manual doesn't say how this is to be accomplished. Just that I should glamorize to maxmize my sales.

Ohdearbabyjesus.

Who writes this? Seriously. If you're so concerned about how I'm going to be presenting photos to the customer you really need to do more than give vague statements with words that sound like they're made up. I can only follow directions I understand.

Questionable manual aside, I think I'm going to like working there. The nametag has really won me over. It's gold and doesn't say Toni.

Also, I got to play with kiddies today and because it wasn't my responsibility to get a good shot out of them, it was pretty fun. One of them was in a Minnie Mouse costume! Kids like me. It's adults I, on occasion, have trouble with.

Battlestar Galacticsimpsons

2006-10-12T20:05:00.000-04:00

Okay, you'll probably only properly appreciate this if you're Barb, or a closet Battlestar Galactica fan. You should be watching it. It's probably the best plotted show I've ever watched. Sci-fi with depth. It's about fifty times better than Lost and all the other crap on television. And it has hot robots. And hot humans.

A fellow nerd, with much better drawing skills than me, drew the Battlestar Galactica characters as if they were on The Simpsons.

I plotzed. They're so well done.

Battlestar GalacticSimpsons

Much Ado About Something.

2006-10-09T21:58:00.000-04:00

We went to see Much Ado About Nothing on Saturday! We had a girls night out. It was supposed to be Sushi and Shakespeare but we didn't end up doing sushi. Shakespeare more than made up for it, in large part because my experience with performed Shakespeare was entirely limited to the fifteen minute Hamlet (which was brilliant) that Susan directed back in the day.

I know Stratford is the 'establishment' and that I should hate them but I'm like, not actually in theatre, and whether they take risks or sold out to the man or not doesn't really matter to me. Also, I didn't pay full price for my ticket, so I don't really care what they charge. I only have a social conscience about theatre when I'm watching Slings and Arrows. Because Paul Gross tells me too. Oh the things I would do to that man!

Although, I've gotta say, the gift shop made me pretty unhappy. The Shakespeare
Action Figure was rather amusing but the hats on sale and the forty dollar ties were not. In fact, everything was a million dollars and the shop was stuffed to the gills with people and my feet hurt, so I really just wanted to rush through and get to our seats.

The show wasn't perfect, Beatrice I'm looking at you, but the Festival Theatre was beautiful, the seats were comfy for the first hour and 45 minutes and we had a great view of the stage. I developed a slight old man crush on the guy who played Benedict and a pretty serious dislike for the girl who played Hero.

It being cheapie night, there were a bunch of teenagers in attendance. I was less than enthralled with their prepubescence. I don't really care, go ahead and look like slobs on purpose, I look like a slob by accident a lot of the time. What I can't bear is your body odour. I'll admit it, I have a B.O. phobia and carry deodorant around in my purse/schoolbag. I understand that's not for everyone. Regular showers, however, are for everyone. Lather, rinse, repeat people. Thanks.

I've included visual aids to show that we're adults, attending the theatre, appreciating culture and the like.

Exhibit A:
We have appropriate footwear. Adult footware! I love you red shoes, why do you hate me?
Exhibit B:
Susan is howling at the moon. Jowie likes it.
Exhibit C:
We do not appreciate outlandish hats. Okay, I don't like outlandish hats. Susan and Jo claim that this is perfect on me. It's like crushed velvet with weird fringe. What? This hat is only for blind ghetto thugs.
Exhibit D:
I took pictures of the lit stairs that were NOT easy to walk down. When your foot is already on a downward slope and you walk on a downward slope tragedy awaits. High heels are definitely special occasion shoes for Toni; once every seven months or so should do me just fine.

Okay, I'm not going to be all, I meant for this picture to be blurry; I'd hate to lie to you, dear reader. I wanted a clear picture of the stair lights, but I think the blurriness doesn't necessarily detract from the overall photographic beauty. We'll just call it art, okay?

Happy Teacher's Day!

2006-10-05T11:38:00.000-04:00

This picture was taken last year in Afghanistan and is of a village school donated by Japan. Now, I'm sure the Japanese were doing a really nice thing when they gave the Afghanis the school, all I'm wondering is what exactly they donated. The cardboard that the teacher is using to illustrate his lesson? The stick holding it up? Surely it's not the sand as I have it on good authority that there's a buyer's market for sand in Afghanistan.

And the ground had to be demined before any cardboard-learning could take place. Not the sweetest piece of real estate Japan! For shame.

You know, I had it pretty rough in highschool too. There was this one portable that was far away from the main building and was really old and leaked when it rained.

Yeah, you win again Afghanistan. I concede.

Picture shamelessly stolen from Slate.com.

Tempy.

2006-10-02T16:34:00.000-04:00

I worked last week. Another temp assignment. Not in a candy factory! YAYAYAYAYAYAY! It was with a goverment building management facility and I was working reception. An important part of my job was calling the janitorial staff (on a walkie talkie!) when someone vomited somewhere in the building. I was an integral cog in the machine!

Most of it was excellent. Everyone was really nice. There were a few things I'd forgotten about working in an office and that veneer of niceness, mostly insincere or overdone, was one of them. Working in the candy factory they basically yelled and pointed, you can't have polite conversation with earplugs in and the candy coming out of the machine at top speed.

My temp boss made me laugh. He was a short guy with a Bill Gates Bowl Cut (BGBC) but the voice is what really sold me on him. Something like Will Ferrell's voice immodulation bit from SNL only more pompous.

Also something that I think is a part of the mysterious world of office culture that I'd forgotten? Purrell. It's everywhere. Anti-bacterial stuff in the washroom is one thing but it was on every desk and sitting right on my desk in case anyone came in and felt the need to sanitize immediately. And they did.

Makes me wonder what they know that I don't know.

Nothing says Autumn like decorative gourds.

2006-10-02T16:06:00.000-04:00

In which I see no one I know and take pictures of foliage. Again. I want to take more face pictures but I feel like if I run around taking pictures of people that don't know me, someone's going to beat me up.

I love Autumn. Expect to be inudated with pictures of the leaves turning colour. I never met a photographic cliche I didn't like.

"Truman actually produced democracy and freedom and peace, whereas you want credit for your hopes."

2006-10-01T15:35:00.000-04:00

Just read an excellent article on Slate.com. The article puts forth a simplistic argument and one that isn't really novel in that even I, in one of my mostly nonsensical rants, have said it. Namely, that Bush's foreign policy doesn't jive with his domestic stance on stem cell research. For all that I've heard it before, it was nice to see someone in the media publish it. Refreshing, even.

"But it is hard indeed, I would say it is impossible to reconcile Bush's absolutism over alleged human life when it is a clump of unknowing, unfeeling cells with his sophisticated, if not cavalier, attitude toward the loss of innocent human life when it is children and adults in Iraq.

In all discussions weighing the cost of something-or-other in terms of human life, a philosopher pops up at this point and says that the crucial difference is a matter of intentions. Terrorists purposely target innocent civilians. We try hard not to kill innocent civilians, even if we know it can't be avoided. They're worse, even if our score is sadly higher.

But are stem cells any different? Stem-cell researchers don't want to kill embryos. They know that the deaths of embryos are a consequence of what they do, and they think that curing terrible diseases is worth it just as President Bush thinks that bringing democracy to Iraq is worth it. In the case of stem cells, there is the added element that the embryos in question will be killed (or pointlessly frozen indefinitely) anyway if they are not used for research. And oh, yes there is still the question of whether a clump of a half-dozen cells you can't see without a microscope is actually a human being in the same sense as a 6-year-old girl blown up as she skips off to kindergarten in Baghdad."

Quite highly recommended.

Pimpin'

2006-09-29T18:10:00.000-04:00

You all read Jowie's blog right? Well, in case you don't, go read this. Just the best entry ever! About Sci Fi! And me! And photo manipulation!

Queen Vicky

2006-09-24T14:54:00.000-04:00

High off of Studio 60 fumes! Are you watching it? Don't you love things that are awesome?

Picked Jo up from the bus station yesterday and wandered around downtown taking pictures like I was a tourist, as if I haven't been living in this city for the better part of 22 years. Snapped this picture of Queen Vicky. Caption read: A model wife and mother.

What more can us ladies hope to achieve?*

*There better be something else or I'm screwed.

Druuuuuunk

2006-09-24T00:49:00.000-04:00

See the thing is, I'm drunk right now. Jowie came down for a visit and we wandered around my illustrious hometown for quite a few hours and then came back to my house and drank the vodka that's been hiding in my freezer. Jo's the drunkest she's ever been! I know I'm probably going to regret posting this tomorrow but I need an outlet right now!

I've been resisting the urge to message people and tell them that I'm drunk and that I love them. I never really understood drunk dialling before. But I get it now. There's something about being drunk that makes you want to talk to people and, in my case, tell them how you think they're awesome.

We already yelled at Susan over the phone and I think she was tickled pink by our chemically altered state. You tickle me pink Susan!

I'm just going to go ahead and take this chemically induced opportunity to tell you that I think you're all awesome and if I had your numbers and just a little less will power I'd probably call you all to tell you.

2006-09-20T17:39:00.000-04:00

And just like that, I'm unemployed again. Same old story: temp worker screwed over by the man. I'd like to be bitter, work up some of that anger I'm known for, but I'm far too in love with the fact that I don't have to go into work tonight to care. I have an interview tomorrow with a portrait photography studio and I hope to take many pictures like this one of The Lonely Island dudes. Really, I'll just be glad to have my hands on some professional photography equipment and not candy, no matter how many trite pictures I have to take.

Also? Chavez called Bush a devil. It's like he's saying what I'm thinking. And saying.

I don't know what's so Swedish about those berries.

2006-09-19T16:41:00.000-04:00

So I really do hate night shifts. That's officially official. The sheer confusion of half believing it's not night time and working for eight hours is hard for me to articulate. Leaving work, just as the sun is coming up and feeling like you're going to die if you aren't in a bed immediately is even more jarring. Coming home to people eating breakfast and getting ready for work and school is, perhaps the weirdest of all.

This morning, however, my tiredness manifested itself as giddyness. Gave my dad a good laugh on the way home. Said things to my stepdad like, "Seriously, is anyone surprised that Willie Nelson has weed?" (Apparently he was arrested or something for having a pound a half of it. Or so MuchMoreMusic tells me.) I mean really, just let the old man smoke his weed and leave him alone, he's 72 and he has a big long braid, what could a little (lot of) weed possibly do to him at this point?

Taped Studio 60. Watched it when I dragged my groggy ass out of bed this afternoon. Matt and Danny are my new boyfriends and, clearly, are in fact boyfriends. Period.

I missed the first fifteen minutes, 'cause I'm losing my mind but the internets has come to my rescue once more, apparently NBC put the whole premiere online.

Okay, scratch that. Turns out that the video isn't availabe in my area. What area is that? NORTH AMERICA? Fascists.

It occurs to me that I'm still a little loopy.

You really can do everything on the internet.

2006-09-17T19:51:00.000-04:00

Designed my own pair of Chucks. They say Toni on the back. Slammin'

I really wish I was watching Little Miss Sunshine right now.

Stop ruining my life.

2006-09-17T15:00:00.000-04:00

It occurs to me that I'm going to miss the premiere of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip thanks to the godforsaken Candy Factory.

Studio 60
Pros
-Aaron Friggen Sorkin
-Matthew Perry
-Bradley Whitford

Cons
-None

Candy Factory
Pros
-none

Cons
-many eg. interfering with Studio 60 watching.

Thank god for torrents or this Pros/Cons list would be ultra depressing. If any of you (Susan) breathes a word of this show to me before I manage to get my hands on it, I'm going to put you through the fuzzy peaches packaging machine.

Round Up.

2006-09-17T00:40:00.000-04:00

She's going to conquer your lands and she's going to look stylish while she does it.

Cover for the hit album: Broads on Board.

The Candy Factory: Day 1 and a half.

2006-09-17T00:33:00.000-04:00

So I've got a full day of working at ye olde candy shoppe under my belt now and am staring into the impending doom that is my first night shift. There is no Willy Wonka. There are no Oompa Loompas. We don't even make the candy. The candy gets made at another factory and shipped to our factory. Apparently that's cost effective. What do I know?

I suppose, then, that I should refer to it as The Candy Packaging Factory but that just doesn't have the same ring to it. Makes it sound like what it is: a place where candy hatred begins.

My work outfit? Consists of:
-hyper butch steel toed shoes
-a hair net
-a smock designed to extract the maximum amount of sweat from my body (The amount is quite high, in case you're wondering. It's been a full day and I'm still a little parched)
-ear plugs

I don't hate it exactly, but (presumably because I'm a snob) I'm left with this idea that I'm too good for the job. And I have to believe that I'm destined for something better in the long run. But for now, for a couple of months (the only way I could persuade myself into the factory) it should be tolerable. It's ridiculous, my dad works in a factory and my grandpa worked in a factory (and on the railroad, which is much cooler). It's just that I'm surrounded by grisled women who've clearly been smoking for 76 years and have no interest in imparting their years of hard earned factory experience on a sweaty and nervous Toni. It's also that at the orientation for this place, they reminded us that we had to shower regularly. Thanks. I had one of those 'is this really happening or did I smoke too much peyote' moments. Then I started screaming "I have a B.A.H." in my head. Like, I know it's not the same thing as saying you have a Nobel Peace Prize, but it has to count for something or my head is just going to explode right now.

Crazy from the get go.

2006-09-11T22:12:00.000-04:00

Only a couple of hours into our marathon Guelph Day, Susan and Jowie obliged me by hamming it up downtown. It was an emotional roller coaster, being back in Guelph and getting substandard haircuts at 8 AM and seeing a bunch of plays and getting a little wasted and a little stoned at a party. It was really nice to see people and squeal and yell at them for being in school when we weren't. Someday it'll be me again, I swear to baby Jesus!

In other news: It looks like I'm going to be working in a candy factory. Temp assignment, which I'm unreasonably glad of right now. I'm so scared of committing to anything right now, that a short term job seems just peachy. Logic is not really operating on your "human" principles in my brain right now.

4.7 people have already demanded that I steal chocolate for them, tucking it into various parts of my clothing and body. I feel like firing is in my near future. Jo's concerned that bathing in the stream of chocolate whilst taunting umpa loompas might be against company policy. I'm definitely going to have to have words with someone about that policy.

Putting you on notice.

2006-09-05T13:53:00.000-04:00

Consider this me putting Fergie on notice, Stephen Colbert style.

Dear Fergie,

Stop ruining my life with your horrible song. I was looking at my London pictures the other day and your charming little ditty popped into my head like some sort of unwanted soundtrack. "How come everytime you come around, My London, London bridge, wanna go down like." Lyrics (the ones that are in recognizable English, unlike the majority of the song) like this make me think about your song far too much. What is your London Bridge? I know you're not in charge of the real thing! Is it your underwear? Or is London Bridge a metaphor for you? Do YOU "wanna go down"? Your oral sex issues/wardrobe malfunctions don't concern me. Stop ruining my favourite city with your puerile, nonsensical, Gwen Stefani-wannabe song.

It occurs to me that this isn't the first time you've been in trouble with Toni. I had an issue with My Humps too. If trends continue I'm going to have to sic my goon squad on you.

Ear-bleedingly yours,

Toni F. Bank

My dearests.

2006-09-04T11:49:00.000-04:00

Lucky for me, the night got a whole lot better after I ditched the fam. My dearests, Susan and Jo, came down for a little visit and hilarity ensued. A mad dash to Starbucks ended in disappointment, no frappos for us, but a trip to Shopper's did us real nice.

Susan was v.v. tired and full of caffeine. For much of the mad dash to Starbucks, Deanna was in charge of poking Susan to see if she was still alive. She was, much to our delight. "Too tired to die," she said. But that didn't mean that she wanted to stand up in Shoppers.

And here we have Jowie, fearless driver and children's candy devotee, trying to work out the candy she bought at the story. It was harder than you might expect. There was some confusion as to what was plastic and what was candy. "Is that a cat?" she asked, as I snapped this picture.

Glowy *

2006-08-31T20:28:00.000-04:00

Innocuous purple spikey ball?

I think not.

Best $1.50 I ever spent.

*just an excuse to post the last picture of Jo, looking like a ghost

Arc de Triomphe.

2006-08-30T19:33:00.000-04:00

I know everyone's seen and done Google Earth already, but I'm still a newbie. Apparently people have used Google Earth to tag the location of Jon Bon Jovi's house. Now that's time well spent. On a completely unrelated note, I'm on my way to New Jersey and I'm going to need a few friends to sing back up on 'Bad Medicine' and impossibly teased hair.

I was cruising around the globe last night and ended up in Paris. This is the roundabout where our tour bus almost killed a guy on a motorbike. I wish I was almost killing someone right now.

A little more from ThinkGeek.com

2006-08-29T19:08:00.000-04:00

From their "action shots" section:

"I hates fires but I love firefox."

And then I just died. I really do love Firefox though.

The Shirts of my People!

2006-08-29T18:42:00.000-04:00

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. There are a billion more a ThinkGeek.com. This is me exercising restraint.

Redemption.

2006-08-28T20:35:00.000-04:00

Was digging through my old blogs. Found a couple that I'd planned to post later and then they never saw the light of day. For good or ill, here it is.

I know it looks like a pile of crumbly mush, and it is. It is, however, a very important pile of crumbly mush. The Gospel of Judas has resurfaced after a billion years of decay and some years of suppression by the authorities before that.

Almost certainly written by an impartial source, free of human motive and frailty, just like all the other gospels (WINK), the Gospel of Judas offers the radical opinion that Judas was the good guy! Maybe not as good as Jesus (MAYBE) but he was certainly better than the other 12. When he betrayed Jesus to the authorities he was just doing was Jesus had asked him to do.

Now you just KNOW that Judas is partying in the great beyond. He's been hassling Jesus for years about this shit. Like, long before our remote ancestors were even conceived. Conceived in my case, likely due to some ancient drunken indiscretion. Oh the Irish. What? Shut up, I can perpetuate stereotypes about my heritage if I so choose.

Judas is all "Finally biatches! Now when, exactly, do I get sainted? I've heard that you get all kinds of good shit when that happens and seriously, after all this time I could use a church or two in my honour. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Lost Gospel.

Fog.

2006-08-28T19:39:00.000-04:00

Gifts from the Ex!

2006-08-28T14:22:00.000-04:00

Here is the whale I won at the Ex. I've named him Sweeney Todd. Look in that eye! Doesn't he look like a murderous barber to you? You better recognize or his accomplice (namely me) will bake you into her pies. That's right, I'm the sidekick of a stuffed whale.

Jo named hers Whalesy. Hardly a name that inspires fear in the hearts of men.

Irrationally Irate.

2006-08-24T16:12:00.000-04:00

Dear Woman at Store,

Shopping is already hard enough, a chore even, without you telling me that the sack-like dress I tried on fit badly due to the crappiness of my bra and not the shittiness of the garment which you are trying to foist upon me. Also? Do not presume that because my bra doesn't meet your exacting standards that you can go ahead and adjust my straps. You don't know how close you were to a swift kick to the groin.

Love,
Toni Bank

2006-08-21T00:37:00.000-04:00

"The illusion of due diligence."

2006-08-20T16:41:00.000-04:00

Syriana: A movie that assumes it's audience is smart. This, in turn, makes me feel smart for choosing to watch it. Vicious cycle, really. I enjoyed it. New appreciation for Alexander Siddig who was much better as Prince Nasir than he ever was as Dr. Bashir on Deep Space Nine. Yes, of the Star Trek franchise. Toni=Nerd, lest you needed a reminder.

I did not like it when they tortured George Clooney's character. I covered my eyes.

I was impressed by the representation of Hezbollah as a power in Lebanon in a movie released a full year before Hezbollah came to the attention of regular joes around the world. It was one of those instances where the film makers assumed the audience's intelligence.

It was sad, tragically so in places, and I was touched. I didn't, however, feel like it had anything new to say. I guess I was waiting for some sort of revelation when Syriana was more of a chilling mirror into the darker part of today's geopolitical reality. Oil is the motivation behind any number of political machinations worldwide, particularly where the United States is concerned, that's not news to anyone. There are shadowy backstage actors operating around the world that no one really knows about. Surely that's been posited in the past. By Alias even; a show that certain has nothing to say of any political import. But I have a deep, abiding and groinal love for Michael Vartan, Victor Garber and Jennifer Garner so I think I can forgive them.

Also, Susan is home and fantastic. I'm filled with girlish glee and love for my fellow man. Fellow Susan.

Family Gathering.

2006-08-20T12:15:00.000-04:00

'Twas my grandma's birthday party yesterday so Deanna and I shuffled up to a family gathering at my aunt and uncle's. Found myself sitting in a cloud of cigarette smoke wondering how people could smoke so much, concern for their lungs tossed carelessly into the wind, for the better part of five hours while my various relatives recounted tales of the good old days. You know, before we kids were born and cocked things up.

I always think that these people, as my mom's family, would have insight to offer on who my mom was. I knew her as well as a twelve year old can, but that's nothing compared to how you get to know your family once you're an adult. They know my mom in a way that I never will, but I see them like, twice a year, so they're really no help.

I was bored out of my skull and hacking up a lung almost the entire time.

So I wandered around and took pictures. My aunt and uncle live in the boonies, so there was no lack of foliage to take pictures of. There was some discussion of their neighbour's farm. I think my relatives harbour suspicions that, since abandoning organic farming, their neighbours are growing and distributing weed out of their barn. Hilarious! I thought of going on a raid on behalf of Jo.

I'm off to a baby shower today and really, when did people I know start getting themselves knocked up? Okay, it's only one so far but it's only a matter of time before it's more! Babies are catching. It's true; I once read on some woman's shirt that "Babies are an STD". Crass but hilarious! I must admit, however, I was entranced by the little baby outfit I bought, which includes a baby sized purple smock that's all fuzzy and has a unicorn on it! I really wish I wasn't reduced to a cooing moron where babies and baby sized products are concerned.

Tell me more about that Science-Fi.

2006-08-17T15:02:00.000-04:00

Now, don't get me wrong, Arthur C. Clarke knows how to write Sci-Fi. Knows how to create worlds and images that are beyond my imagination. He's also written a book or two, so he definitely knows something about pacing a story, building a narrative and creating tension.

He doesn't do dialogue though.

His dialogue comes off something like a Victorian proponent of the temperance movement, especially when it comes to romance or sex. 'Darling' (a word I assume is only used by 'old money' and aging opera singers) is peppered throughout the book. And when his characters speak to each other it's like robots giving exposition. Stilted, obvious exposition. Sometimes, in the case of the two main characters in Rama Revealed, it's like robots in love.

And yet, I love ACC. Powering through the final Rama book like there's no tomorrow.

2006-08-17T13:08:00.000-04:00

Don't know why I like this picture so much. All you can really see is how dusty my dad's car is. Taken at the gas station. Have convinced father that I am a lunatic. Don't know how he wasn't sure of that a lot earlier.

"You liberals."

2006-08-16T21:40:00.000-04:00

Trolling around on Rolling Stone, I read a blog entry celebrating the triumph of multilateralism the recent aversion of catastrophe at Heathrow Airport.

"There is no separation of church and state in any of the middle east countries (save for Turkey). Women have few rights, if any, at all. Legalization of drugs and gay marriage would get you killed over there. And yet, the average liberal is more critical of Israel, than of Lebanon, Hezbollah, or Iran.

How can you liberals identify with the very people who would jail/kill you for the very causes you champion? The irony is overwhelming. "

First of all, Iran is the only truly theocratic government in the region. Also? If this dud thinks that the United States has a true separation of church and state I'd direct his attention to the recent domestic debates on gay marriage, abortion and stem cell research. All of which are, to some degree, rejected by the Right because of their ties to conservative religious groups. That's not what I call separation of church and state. But what do I know, I'm just a liberal!

Also as an "average liberal", I'd like to say that I can be and am critical of Israel, Hezbollah and Iran all at the same time. Isn't it funny how my brain can do more than one thing at once? Never said I wanted to vacation in Iran and I don't think being critical of Israel and some of what I perceive as their poor policy choices, automatically means I'm less critical of Hezbollah. As I said earlier, it's a moral quagmire!

Dude declared in another post that it was the "culture of death" perpetuated by the Palestinian leadership is responsible for the unrest in the region. Not American foreign policy. I'm not entirely convinced "culture of death" is the best way of putting it. Nevertheless, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that both are contributing factors. See? It happened again; my brain thought more than one thing at once, saw an issue as more than either/or.

Dude was also insightful enough to include "Continuing the status quo is not a peaceful solution."

Wow. You really turned me around on that one. You know what's also not a peaceful solution? WAR.

Also, shut up your face dude.

'I only care for a strip of hair'

2006-08-14T22:09:00.000-04:00

So I was writing a cover letter, because that's all I do now, and complaining about it, because that's all I do when I'm not writing a cover letter. Sexy! And I sent a finished product over to Jo for editing. After an inordinate amount of time passed, during which I wondered what exactly I'd done so poorly, I received a response. I was applying at a place with Mohawk in the name. Jo took that to mean that I was applying to get a mohawk. And she ran with it, writing me a cover letter for just that purpose. I've included a highlight to tickle your eyeballs:

"I am a firm believer that the sides of one’s head were not meant to be covered, but flaunted, and dare I say it, loved. My motto is ‘I only care for a strip of hair’, and I live by that motto; and if given the chance, I will die by that motto. Aside from my education, I have first hand work experience with Mohawks. While I worked at Hothorpe Hall in England, I once saw an individual with a Mohawk. I did not speak to him, but I did observe him from afar. I feel my time hiding in that small bush gave me a better understanding of the intricacies of the hawk."

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

2006-08-14T21:38:00.000-04:00

Well, my genitals are certainly the dumbest part of MY body. Slogan clothing? Not really my thing unless it's really obscure. But this just killed me.

Pantless and fancy free.

2006-08-13T19:28:00.000-04:00

You didn't think I was kidding about the pantsless thing, did you? This weekend was a resounding success. Although there weren't Lucky Charms, there was breakfast cake and we certainly spent all of our time indoors without constricting pants on. Don't you hate pants?

The picture is of my bedside table and Jo's pantsless legs. You'll notice the massive book; I'm currently reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. Quite highly recommended. You'll also notice my spider plant Sebastian, who is simply thriving!

A lot was accomplished this weekend, Jowie and I decided that we are going to go into the Flipping business. That is, we'll buy houses cheap and improve them and sell them for a massive profit. We can't lose! Soon we'll be real estate tycoons like Donald Trump. I'm sure we'll end up with hair to match. Maybe it's not worth it.

We also decided that John Legend is a massive muffin. Don't try to fight the dimples, they'll steal your soul. I also decided that I'd sleep with almost every performer at Dave Chappelle's Block Party. Or just Mos Def and one of the dudes from The Roots. Important. Decisions.

2006-08-11T21:44:00.000-04:00

Proof that we're six years old.

2006-08-10T21:42:00.000-04:00

Jo: "No parents? Let's eat candy and not wear pants!"

It's going to be a good weekend.

Cottage Country.

2006-08-10T21:41:00.000-04:00

We had to walk along this dock to reach another, equally rickety dock. It's a good thing I'm not a huge clutz. Against all odds I managed to avoid pitching into the lake. I really don't know how I managed that in light of the fact that I fell three times on the first day. There was definitely bloodshed; I have pictoral evidence that I'm manfully refraining from posting. Perhaps I'm not cut out to be a ballroom dancer after all.

Everyone needs the obligatory moss-on-rocks by the water picture for their portfolio. Trite but pleasing.

I love the way the roots look like they're braided. This was on our hike to a gorgeous little spot with a waterfall and everything. A hike during which, might I add, I managed to stay on my feet the entire time, even though there were a couple of close calls.

A storm had swept through the area and had uprooted trees all over. This one was alarmingly close to Linds' cottage.

Vertigo

2006-08-10T13:20:00.000-04:00

Linds once told us about an uncle of hers that had some pretty serious vertigo. To treat this the doctor grabbed her uncle's head in his hands and shook his head really hard. Apparently it worked.

Dubious medical practice aside, I think that I'd like someone to come along, grab my life and shake it really hard. I need something to make the world stop spinning around without me. Shake the cobwebs out, shake me out of this ennui. Uncover the imagination and drive that I know lives inside of me. Somewhere.

Maybe, in the process, some loose change would fall out and I'd be able to add to my trip fund. I have a total of 78 dollars and 19 cents in the trip fund right now. That'd get me to the airport and maybe a sandwich or two for the journey.

Cottagers.

2006-08-09T19:12:00.000-04:00

I didn't get wasted! And I only ate like four smores! I think I even ate two bananas. This weekend was not as advertised. Fun was had nonetheless. The final picture tally was something ridiculous like 230 pictures. Rest assured, (JO) more will be posted.