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| ABOUT AS DEEP AS A PUDDLE... I haven't blogged at all in a long, long time, and I'm not about to start again. My thoughts have...regressed to things of little substance, and, well, you know, that means little substance all 'round! I've got nothing to blog, so I'm going to change the song. Yep. DMB. | | |
| FOR WHAT THEY REALLY ARE...
For Father's Day this year, we decided to splurge a little and take my
dad out to Sunday brunch at EPIC. (We like food.) Now, for two weeks
prior, I had been drooling -- figuratively -- hearing about lobster and
oysters and special sushi and chocolate fondue. YUM. And it wasn't bad.
I mean, for the price, the food could've been way better (like...WAY
BETTER), but I got to try my first "oyster in a half shell"! Slimy, of
course, and I think I prefer them that way, they get a yucky taste
about them after they're cooked. And I think I would've enjoyed the
lobster, sushi, and sashimi a lot more, had I not eaten as much the
night before -- of those same things.
I like to rate my restaurants/hotels on whether they give you freshly
squeezed orange juice or cheap-azz Old South or Tropicana. I mean, at
$5 a glass, I want darned fresh juice! And in recent years, I haven't
gotten my "darned fresh juice", so I'll say I'm HALF pleased with EPIC
for giving us HALF freshly squeezed OJ (they mixed it with OJ
concentrate)  . But they had nice coffee, so they move up a couple notches.
My mother and I had been there a few years earlier for their afternoon
tea (aka "high tea"), and let me just say that, being the tea
connoisseur I am and all  , it sucked. I
have no idea what they're like now, but I wouldn't recommend going
anyway. Their windows look out onto the concourse, so you have
strangers who wander into the Royal York from the subway looking in at
you  -- not the nicest atmosphere. Hahaha.
As for Summerlicious, I forgot where I saw it, but I want a Kobe beef burger! OMG! 
And hopefully, I'll find somewhere that has a nice creme brulee (right,
Bean?). So far, the best one I've ever had was at UT's Hart House
for my brother's grad. Oh
dang, it was soooo good. You should try the restaurant some time. The
food is actually pretty impressive. AND they've got some cool and
really yummy freshly squeezed juices (ohhhh, so that's why I like it!)
and drinks.
It seems that all that is on my mind these days is food, fashion, and
interior decorating/design with a shred of Psych 100 here and there and
softball whenever there's practice. I believe all my senses have been
dulled by summer. I can't even spell no more. Haha.
*insert Toronto Star June 20, 2006 Sherman's Lagoon comic strip*
I've observed that the level of discord between myself and my mother is
inversely propotional with the level between my brother and my mother.
So, right now, the tensions between us have been virtually
non-existent, but guess what's going down in the kitchen as I type?
Yeah, it kind of sucks that way. There's never total peace.
Peas has got a question. Is it because I expect something different
from you that I so dislike you now? Are my expectations too high? Maybe
you aren't that different from them, maybe it was just the right time
and place -- you know how that goes, you see the things you want to
see. I don't think I was wrong to think the way I did. You're so
useless sometimes. No, scratch that, I mean, all the time...at least,
now, anyway.
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| LIKE THE BACK OF MY HAND...
Yeah, so that much reflective entry isn't coming -- or, at least, not yet. I've just been enjoying my summer in a terribly non-productive way. Watching lots of TV and digging up songs that remind of past summers (i.e. Len - Steal My Sunshine! Haha.). And on my adventures into the wonderful world of Disne -- I mean -- TV, that ad/preview for The Lake House (Boo, Keanu! BOO!) keeps popping up and, well, of course, the Keane song they use in the ad.
I like Keane (well, duh). And I like their video for Somewhere Only We Know. It looks nice.
It's the right amount of creepy with the right amount of colour. *thumbs up*
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| NOTHING TASTES AS SWEET...
Some
filler in the meantime while I gather my wits to write a much
reflective (haha) entry. The music video is up if you care to take a
look. Personally, I think it's not, but the song is worth a listen,
regardless of the fact that the lyrics are really nothing new.
DAVE LICHENS || Let Go
Don't
get me wrong -- I am, by no means, endorsing this movie (aside from
Channing Tatum), I just really like the song and seeing as how my Homer
image no longer works, I've replaced it temporarily with a music video.
Clearly, CLEARLY, the video concept is weaksauce, but I thought it
would make more sense to you than hearing that bit of dialogue without
any visuals. Oh, and watch She's the Man
if you're like the majority of the female population and see no harm in
spending 90 or so minutes of your life drooling over Channing.
wake up
i have been waiting for you
to open your eyes
so that i can tell you
that i think i'm ready
i'm ready to freefall into
into the unknown
if you wanna be with me
oh i tried holding on for dear life
dear life
or something like it
dear life
there's nothing like it
'cause when you let go
and let life take you where it wants to
give up control whoaaa
let life take you where it wants to go
where it wants to go
trust me
'cause i know it's terrifying
to open your heart and let it lead blindly
oh i tried holding on
keep holding on for dear life
or something like it
dear life
there's nothing like it
'cause when you let go
and let life take you where it wants to
give up control whoaaa
let life take you where it wants to go
where it wants to go
oh i keep holding on for dear life
or something like it
i keep holding on for dear life
or something like it
i keep holding on for dear life,
or something like it
i keep holding on for you
'cause when you let go
and let life take you where it wants to
give up control whoaaa
let life take you where it wants to--
'cause when you let go
and let life take you where it wants to
give up control whoaaa
let life take you where it wants to go
where it wants to go | | |
| WE BLED FOR
THE DREAMS THAT FUEL US...
Mr. Snowman
Snow’s falling,
I can’t wait to play.
Build a snow buddy,
And we’ll run away.
To a far off land
Where it’s so very cold
Snow Buddy won’t shrink
He won’t ever grow old.
We played and we played,
Had the greatest of times,
We ate snowflake soup
And it was truly sublime!
But time was passing,
Passing too quick
Dear Snow Buddy,
I think you’re getting sick.
I called the doctor
I called the nurse
But my dearest Snow Buddy
Was just getting worse.
Just as Spring came
With all it’s Spring Gloom,
My dearest Snow Buddy
Had met his dismal doom.
So, the snow isn't falling -- there isn't even a 'snow buddy'...it
appears that spring has come already. How strange! Normally, at this
time of year, I can expect a snow day to coincide with another special
day; if not, then any other time in the month, but not this year (and
likely never again 'cause there simply aren't 'snow days' anymore).
Looking outside right now, it's raining! There's hardly any snow left
on the ground! And the salt is poisoning our water (like that radio
infomerical..."every time you use salt on your driveway, add a rock to
your glass of water...")! (LOL.) Thinking about that [snow days, not contaminated water] , somehow brought
me to think about what makes me ME, and though the following things
aren't particularly unique, they're very much a part of my life and I'm
constantly reminded of them.
The Nickname
For as long as I can remember, most everyone I know through my family
(every auntie and uncle) and in my family has called me "Mui" (the
"little girl" way, not "little sister") or some variation thereof. Like
"Mui mui", "May", "May may" (with a pat on the head to follow -- I
guess that's what happens when you're the youngest of the cousins AND
the only girl), "Moims(ee)" (or so says my very white and
not-in-the-least-bit-oriental -- though he's been trying to learn Mandarin for the last ten years
and has lived in China for the last six years -- uncle, and my brother gets called "b-Alan", short for "baby Alan" --
don't ask me, I haven't a notion why), the list goes on. The point is,
aside from when I'm around friends, I hardly hear my actual name and
even then, it's usually "Allie" or maybe even "Al" (which I don't mind,
it amuses the tomboy in me, though I wouldn't recommend it, it will get
confused with my brother). And for a few years, before all the guys I
knew [that were around my age] had their growth spurts, I found the
name to be highly inappropriate. After all, I was taller (and
bigger ) than most of them for the
better part of my life (at least at that time -- ages 4 to 13 or so).
Occasionally, I still find it embarrassing, but it's done me no real
harm, in fact, it's been a pretty good experience having all the
aunties know you by a (err...) special name and, therefore, dote on you
(think 'presents'). Though it baffles me how I ever get slapped with a
nickname like that and have it stick. Again, I think I have my
mother to "blame".
The Tailbone & Other Basketball memories
It was Grade 6. I think this was the time when the girls were the
craziest about basketball if we ever were. Remember "Jordan"? The girl
from Brampton CS who had to have had the meanest, nastiest game face in
the history of ACSI tournaments (and an attitude to match, boy, that
girl was aggressive -- fouls galore!)?. Anyway, we were in the gym
during lunch having our usual practice...
<<tangent>> Haha,
those were the days! And then I think of Janette and Grade 8 basketball
and then I frown. She might have whipped us into super good shape with
suicides, shuffles, wallsits -- our endurance must have quadrupled --
but we only faired just as "well" (or poorly, whichever way you want to
look at it -- 4th isn't bad, but it ain't great) as when we just ran
around then gym shooting and doing our own thing, not to mention, she
never knew my name (except for maybe a practice or two after seeing me
consistently hit 3s), benched me for all but two minutes when winning
obviously wasn't in our vocabularly or within our reach -- EVER (yes,
I'm bitter yet), and could not recognize me when she went around to
share her "inspirational" poem with the team mere weeks after the
season ended, the aptly titled "Rise Above It", her life motto that we
never heard the end to, especially when our muscles were burning, we
were ready to puke, and she yelled "On the line!", and which justified
her rather sadistic concept of coaching and conditioning...for bantam
basketball  . <</tangent>>
...and
being the oh-so-wealthy school that we are, we only had a select few
basketballs that FELT good enough with which to play, and I distinctly
remember that they were yellow and that the red ones were really messed
up with those "goosebumps", or I think that's what we called them (yes,
folks, we had a rainbow variety of basketballs, which were only as good
as you can imagine red, orange, yellow, green, blue, or purple
basketballs to be though I figure that they've long been trashed).
Anyway, the yellow ones became a hot commodity between the few of us,
so much so that we actually turned to stealing them when someone in
possession of one was brave enough to risk losing it by taking a shot
(and thus, we developed our dribbling skills from never taking a shot,
which is realistic, because they were the only ones you could really
dribble with anyway). However, we managed to keep the ball theft rather
civil -- we were only little Christian schoolgirls. Or so I
thought we could, that is until Ruth (oh, Ruth! Where is she now? How
much she's changed!) -- the Grade 6 Ruth, you know, when she was still
a major tomboy and refused to give guys a second thought (for good
reason, too, YOU take a look at the selection of guys we girls
had...and ever had   )
-- decided that taking a more militant approach to "stealing" would be
a good idea, and which, unfortunately, occurred to her as I came into
possession of a yellow...
The next thing I know *BAM*, I'm down on the
floor, wrestling for the ball (haha, PCA taught us SUCH grace), but I
end up on the lower end of things, and Ruth, sitting...on top...of me,
with the yellow! GRRR! Let me at it!
But at that time in my life, I would say I had a hmm...a...let's put it
this way...a physical disadvantage to Ruth, so I was stuck on my back
and without a good ball. But that became the least of my concerns when
I noticed that when I tried to get up, I couldn't. Or, at least, not
like I normally could, I had to roll over into push up position and get
up that way. The rest of the day was spent with a rather weak lower
back and severely limited movement; I couldn't even tuck in my chair
beneath me (You know how you cross your leg over a leg of a chair to
pull it in under you?). Well, I couldn't even begin to do that! And
that night, it must have been my birthday or my dad's, because we went out
for a nice dinner, and for once in my life, I had to have a family
member help me get seated (as well as, UNseated). You won't believe how
frustrating it was! I mean, it was a source of endless laughter for my
family, and I would laugh, too, but my eyes would water at the same
time 'cause it was painful, not a sharp pain, but in a jelly, weak sort
of way. But I did have unbelieveably good posture that night as a
restaurant like that would "require". Haha, I guess. Errr..well,
apparently, when Ruth sat on me, she forced my tailbone to hit the
ground in a rather unnatural way. And since then, I've never been able
to do good situps on a hard floor (without rolling off to one side when
I get to the lower vertebrae, so as to avoid that bone). My tailbone
must be cushioned! Hahaha. Daaaang.
The Joint Cracking
My mom says it's because I like to sleep on one side -- that is until I
moved my bed to the opposite wall and therefore, sleep on the other
side -- but I don't think it's that easily explained. What I mean is I
can make a disgustingly loud cracking noise with a few joints and they
all happen to be on the right side of my body, even if it doesn't make
a noise, it sure looks like it would.
First up is my jaw. Each time I visit the dentist or orthodontist, they
check that movement, and it always gives them a [nice] surprise. Mine
cracks and both sides don't "release" simultaneously. So, when I open
my mouth, the right side will crack and then the left side will,
literally, POP out and then down. It's pretty disgusting and gets me a
little scared sometimes, but it's funny and can be entertaining when
I'm bored.
Second is my shoulder. It makes a nasty "crunching"/"popping" sound
every time I rotate it (up to five pops in one motion!). I guess this
would be better explained by my mom's theory of sleeping on my right
side. Ask me, I'll show you. It makes me laugh. Every so often I'll try
doing it repeatedly and it gets uhh...pretty sore...I'm stupid.
Arthritis, here I come!
Third is my hip. It can make a "deeper" sounding crack (up to two pops)
than everything else, and I tend to crack it when I'm lying down in bed
waiting to fall asleep. I've also made this one sore. I sure hope it
doesn't do anything serious 'cause otherwise I ain't walking in a few
years!
Fourth and final is my big toe. When I remember I can do it, I crack it
non-stop. I believe it's irritating my roommate right now. I tend to do
it until I can't crack it anymore and that's usually a day or two too
late 'cause it'll be hurting a while before then.
My right wrist, elbow, and ankle "crack", but they don't make as big a noise.
That ought to be it for now. I never have anything to say about my
present state anymore. Maybe not nothing, but I don't want to share. I
mean, I guess I end up telling it to the people who I want to tell. So
feel special if I talk to you, don't NOT feel special if I don't -- I
just don't like to waste people's time if I know we're only going to be
chit-chatting, it's a "pea-ve" of mine.
Kelly is raising her son
His dad left just after the birth
Now she's living on child support checks
I guess that's all that man was worth
She said I just need a man who will love me
But they all just want one night of sin
I know our life could be better
I just don't know where I should begin
She said write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
Yeah, they'll fly
Beth, she sings straight from the heart
She's hidden her tracks very well
But these days she's falling apart
And it makes me feel just like hell
She says, boy, you can't imagine my life
The death and the drugs and the pain
And though I keep running
I just can't seem to break from these chains
She said write me a song
Fill it all up with words
Like brilliant and heavenly
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time I love you was heard
And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
We're all feeding our lonely
Like it might go away
The doors of heaven swing wide
If we just find the right words to say
She said write me a song
Fill it all up with words
Like brilliant and heavenly
Make it sound just like me
Just like the first time I love you was heard
And now write me a song
One that makes all the girls cry
And the old women swoon
At the sound of my tune
And the hearts of the lonely will fly
Yeah, fly
She said write me a song...
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