15 Minutes, 15 Movies

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen movies you've seen that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes.


1. A Midsummer Nights Dream
2. Aladin
3. Clockwork Orange
4. The Rocky Horror Picture Show
5. The Nightmare Before Christmas
6. Empire Records
7. Practical Magic
8. Coraline
9. Tank Girl
10. Interview with the (a?) Vampire
11. Fan Boys
12. Zack And Miri Make a Porno
13. Girl with Pearl Earring
14. Pan's Labyrinth
15. Robin Hood Prince of Thieves

Tagged by the lovely lady Sally via facebook. Saving all my notes from there for the blog, as per on of my rules of blogging...I'll get around to posting them soon. They are kinda like the rules of Zombieland, but not as cool.

Mood; reluctant.

Moods

Having reviewed all of my previous blog posts, I'm going to institute a rule. Posting a mood along with which ever the topic is.

What I think am going to do tp get myself back into the swing of things I'm going to, for the next week, is post daily.

YAAAAY!!

What subject, you might ask?

It doesn't matter, I need to get to re-establish my style of writing. To see if I can turn down the blatant in-your-face 'tude I seem to rock (poorly indeed), it seems very prevalent to most of my previous posts.

I have been mulling over the idea of doing an art blog, and issuing challenges to myself and possibly actually going out there into the blogisphere and seeing who else is out there that I enjoy reading. I mean; don't get me wrong ms. rhapsody, I love you, but I need to know what my other options are out there. And I'm not talking just this one, but this one too, or this crap too. I will be doing a fair bit of pimpin' too, music, video's, awesome links I find while trollin'.

...well, now that that paragraph has eaten dick twice now, and I've had to re-edit my linkages like mad, I'm going to spice this up with some images. Fuck yah!!


Action Shot!*

Yah I went there. Deal.

So. It being Saturday, do I cheat and make today count? Sure why not. Next saturday we'll wrap up this daily post challenge and see how I stack up.

shit.

Well.

Having spent the night out, enjoying the dude's company, and seeing a coffee house at U of O, which turned out surprisingly well, despite the slow climb. The show, not the evening. The evening itself was remarkably well, but I haven't figured out how to shut up yet. Seriously, this is a skill every 27 year old woman should have, know when to SHUT UP. Oh well, the damage is done. Apologies all around on my ridiculously girlish behaviour of late.

Having decided that while I am looking for work I am going to paint my ass off for an upcoming set of shows and get more involved in getting myself out there, I randomly dropped in on DeSerres today and ran into the gentleman Marcus, who runs Basement Artists, which turned out to be a solid mini-jam about up-coming exhibits and shows that I want and am going to try to get too. Blew my mind, folks, this guy is wicked. Scored a five pack of canvases for myself and a gift for the dude, if he'll accept it.

Saw Astro-boy, surprisingly well done, even though I missed the intro, -shrugs- I cried at the end. Who's surprised? Not Ren, that's for sure. Ended up at Value Village where every thrifty shopper needs to visit. I tell you!

And now I am at home. Bored. Aren't you thrilled I decided to sit down? Hasn't this been the most fun ever?

I was entertained for a good hour checking out music video's and old link and laughing my ass off at the shit I use to listen too. My gods I've come a far ways.

Good News? I have art supplies.

Bad News? I have no inspiration.

Mood? Mildly entertain, kinda want to watch the rest of Hero's and possible find something mildly alcoholic. Brown Cow anyone?

Future painting themes? American Sign Language Anatomy!


* i.e. shittah webcam shot. fuck you, I'm too lazy to look for my own camera and my friends are to lazy to post party pictures. Assholes.

WTF, I still have a blog?

Thanks to the dude, I was reminded I have a blog.

I may or may not post in this again.

Apologies to the dude for him finding this fucktard festival...but to my defense, it is a blog, and most blogs that are unthemed (like mine is) turn out to be livejournal quality rants. So you know, utter crap.

But at the same time I love my blog. Why? Cause in the day and age where a girl has spent most of her life experimenting in mind alternating activities, its kind of nice to know there is a place where some of her memories are documented in blog format.

We can blame facebook for ruining my blog. TAKE THAT FACEBOOK!! Ruiner of blogs, harbinger of internet creepers, and making myspace the livejournal of personal websites.

(Yes, I loathe myspace and livejournal, both are outdated and overrun by tween scene girls taking angled shots of thier too-thick makeup and undersized cleavage.)

Rest assured in the age of censorship and not trodding on toes, I will swear and mock and offend as much as I will use my vast vocabulary to stun, shock and impress...and brag. Much bragging will be had.

Now...to pimp or not to pimp...I'll have to come up with a decent blog to usher back in the era of Yve rants.

...Watch out Social Services Ontario, I'm going to kick your shit in!

Fishtank Idea

I've always fancied Black Moor's.

I don't really know why, anything carp are nothing more then trash factories, and fancy carp seem to be getting a lot of attention from popculture, and for me, its ruining the integrity of the history of carp. Ie. Seriously go google 'Koi, Pop-culture', and see what you get. Carp = a whole lotta shit.

And yet, here I am day dreaming about a tank with black moor's, a nice soft blue lamp, a subtle dark back drop, lots of big green leafy plants (obviously plastic because carp eat anything that lives), dark pebbles, probably a black and maroon combination and a trifecta of fat black moors.
I'd obviously do (for cheapness sake) a standard rectangular tank, likely a 15 g., in tank filter, maybe a snail for good measure, an apple snail so the cream shell and pink foot are lit up by the light.

OOOO pretty.

-sighs- what I would do if I had more room for pets.

beh.

weird.

It's a well known fact about me that I'm pagan, and I have been for ten years, my devotion to my craft has always stayed the same. I still perk up with interest when I discover a piece of information that has anything remotely to do with my spirituality, it's actually a very deep very geek-like bit of hunger I have inside me. I can never seem to learn enough about my craft I am always hungry and searching for more. It was said that is what makes a pagan a true practitioner of the craft, the constant search for knowledge, wisdom and the ability to share it and pass it on with others.

More often then not I've taken to not wearing my religion on my sleeve like I did when I first discovered my path through the woods, and while I am still passionate about defending my religion to...other people who liken to ignorance over intelligence. But something today made me feel fiercely proud of my paganism.

As of tonight at midnight it'll be ten years since my first initiation. I held a mini-celebration last may when the three three's of years that had passed came to be, but something was missing. Something very vital to my paganism.

The person who instigated and introduced me fully to wicca, witchcraft and then supported my adventurous steps out of the sparkly teen-minded enthrallment and truly learned what it was to be pagan. In honour of another one of her effects on my life I will call her 'She Who Must Not Be Named' since she got me HOOKED on HP. Bitch.

You-know-who stepped out of our friendship a few years passed and while it cut me to the quick I've come to accept that well, we've washed our hands of each other, (me doing so despite my being in total darkness as to why) and have mourned the passing of our friendship. Today You-Know-Who practically smacked me in the face. As I was busing home, I realized I was nearly staring her older brother in the face as he got on the bus. I nearly didn't recognize him with his frothy beard (Srsly dood, I almost spoke to you, your beard is crazy!!) and I had a moment of pure panic as I looked around for his sister. You-know-who wasn't on the bus and when I realized that I kinda balked at myself. I don't care about this person anymore, they're nothing more then a stranger to me, and instead of dwelling on this, I went back to my book and enjoyed the rest of my long ride home.

Huh.

It dawned on me while I was fiddling around a moment if this was a portent or sign. It prompted me to write about it to sust out the conclusion.

I'm back tracking at this point. Ms. Dragon-fly is going through a rough time (to say the least) her life and she, being religious (of a different denomination) asked for a sign from her god. She got one. She asked my opinion on signs and portents and if I believed in them. I do. So when she told me what she asked and what her sign was, I told her to take it in both hands and fucking race like the wind. I really truely hope she does. Seeing her happy would make my day, but I digress.
Signs and portents. Subtle hints, and nudges from the gods telling you which way to go to succeed, or fail and learn a lesson you need to learn.
The key word is subtle. Who ever nudged me might as well have smacked me in the face.

I wonder if I should contact her, or accept that the acknowledgment of apathy and continue on my merry way.

The only reason I am perturbed about this is, of course, the anniversary and her original involvement.

I'm baffled.

Also.

Its fucking BEAUTIFUL right now. There are plants in full bud and bloom everywhere. I can't wait for more flowers. Really I see them coming up everywhere and I am so excited!

BELTAIN!!

An Open Letter to OC Transpo

Dear OC Transpo;

I'm writing on behalf of all the riders who sat on the corner of Bank and Queen today for forty five minutes, plus, waiting for their buses to arrive.

In light of the recent strike, the inevitable price hike and the general poor quality of drivers, customer service and well, anything resembling any sense of respect or gratitude that it is our hard earned money paying your wages, I have to admit that you are all useless wads of flesh.

No, really. I have seen strung out mdrug-users do more useful things with their burned out existence that your twisted sense of service in this town. You should be ashamed. Truly, deeply ashamed.

Not only was I one of the VERY few people who defended you during the strike, I was willing and eager to return to riding the bus so I could visit my friends, return to my normal work hours, shop for more then a two days worth of groceries, etc. You know, return to normal transit riding life. I even grinned and bore the rude, defensive behavior your drivers extended as a way to keep themselves from being skived by angry users who felt gipped by what you pulled over the holiday season.

(By the way, that was insanely tactless and you do know you'll all be rotting in the hot place for that.)

Heck I even defended a driver who was faced with a rude man who started to swear off at him, but mostly because I didn't want my peaceful morning disrupted by the so-called security task force you've enlisted to help keep the buses safe. I say 'so called' because more often then naught, I've been witness to their belligerence towards riders before the riders themselves returned belligerence with belligerence. Really, we're suppose to be friendly Canadians, not aggressive hate-monger's here. Get a hold of your inadequacy issues and try dealing with people in a civilized manner. You might get a better response and hey! Maybe even a genuine show of respect from us! I know, shocking, you lot actually earning respect...utterly shocking.

I digress.

This last few weeks I understand that service has been slowed along the Wellington St. routes because of the Tamil protesters (refraining from starting a rant about THAT lot...sheesh) but if you INSIST on rerouting traffic, PLEASE, PLEASE let the riders know! The first time, on April 7th when the protesters streamed on to Wellington, can be understood. It was unforeseeable. But today, when it was announced that the protest was going to reach well into the thousands, you could have at least shown an iota of intelligence and contacted the media about the buses being rerouted down Slater. Or even sending one of your many over paid under worked employee's driving around in their nice Dodge Chargers to place a 'Not In Service' sign on the stop. Foresight, again, clearly eludes you flesh-wads.

Here is why I think this would have been brilliant. 1) the elderly woman who was at the stop on Bank and Queen long before I arrived. 2) the mother with her child, 3) the fact that the Quebec buses were still streaming down Wellington, clearly showing that yes, Wellington was in fact clear and moving quite quickly.

Then, when I was graciously interrupted my reading by a very kind gentleman who asked me how long I was waiting, complained that he was late for work again because of OC Transpo, stormed off up Bank to see he could flag a cab and spied the buses turning off Albert on Bank.

Sonofabitch.

We kindly alerted the crowd of displeased riders to this fact and made our way to the stop where the buses were indeed picking up passengers.

When my bus came, I waited until everyone boarded and I asked the driver, politely, because you know civility gets you much further in life then most (ie. oc transpo employee's) would believe, if he could call his supervisor and have someone sent to the stop on Bank and Queen to alert the next crowd that the buses have been rerouted.
The driver, I kid you not, told me 'that wasn't his job and if I had a problem with the buses, I should contact customer service,'. Not his job! Can you believe that!? I nearly died. I was stunned. I'm doing him one better and calling him on his pig-ignorance and sheer laziness and writing this (which I do plan, on btw forwarding to OC Transpo after I reread and edit out the curses,) then I'm forwarding it onto all the media in Ottawa because frankly, this business needs to stop, its ridiculous.

Seriously.

So fed up with this crap.

Bronchitis

Acute Bronchitis is a viral infection in the main branches of the lungs. It comes in various strengths, shapes and debilitating forms. It's symptoms include shortness of breath, rough, broken coughing, headaches, phlegm production, rhonchi* and fatigue.

Acute Bronchitis can last several days or weeks and progress to bronchial pneumonia and even to pneumonia or tuberculosis.

Treatment is often antibiotics if the systems do not dissipate after a week. Studies show it can quicken healing by a half-day. -refrains from sputtering-

I have chronic bronchitis, which means, I have the cough all the time. It doesn't matter if I am the picture of health, I start to cough, I bark like a dog. I also get full blown bronchitis upwards of twice or three times a year depending on how well I've taken care of myself, or how unlucky I am. I've managed to go a whole year without it... I have it again and it sucks because its particularily humid and damp outside and my parents have both taken to smoking in tandem. My lungs ache from being hammered against my sternum every time I take a deep breath and start to cough, my mouth is dry, my sinuses ache and I am partially deaf from blockage. I am tired from lack of sleep and I am aching from the near constant need to clear my throat and cough. I have a headache from all the intense coughing and my only relief is moments after taking mouthfuls of Buckley's, the most vile rancid tasting 'medicine' you can get. Really. I know people who equate the taste to semen, and others to rancid tree bark. Me, I've always preferred explaining it's taste to that being what I would imagine Noxzema tasting lick if you ate a handful. Its more accurately a combination of all three. The only redeeming factor is, since taking it I can breath through my nose again for the first time in a week. The sad part...since the last time I had to take it, I've developed a wicked gag reflex stemming from a bout of the Norwall (norwalk?) virus a couple of years ago that caused me to loose about 15 pounds and most of my taste buds. You'd think having your tongue seared by bile would help the Buckley's taste less rancid. You'd be wrong.

But. It works. Kinda. I'm still waiting to be able to stop coughing long enough to use my lungs at full capacity again.

I hate you weakened immune system.

I blame my parents smoking around me for my entire life. I've always had breathing problems, asthma, allergies, bronchial infections, weakened systems, etc. I'm also very pessimistic at this time (see prior entry concerning the DSG's leaving Ottawa) so forgive me if I come off clinical and cold.

I'm sick and bitchy. Deal. At least you aren't fighting what I'm fighting. Also I'd grow and give my testicle's to be able to taste food right now. Cardboard is kinda bland.

* rhonchi is a coarse rattling sound similar to snoring.