Friday, June 28, 2013

Sabrina's Romance

It is not often I hear one of my most favorite songs on the radio. But when it plays on the radio, the motor races just a bit faster : the sun shines just a bit brighter. My heart hopes and is happy and content and is truly full. And I don't even know why it's full - it's because this song tells me it is. Something fabulous lies ahead of us all, in traffic, as we depart our dull jobs and robotic lives, committed to banks and bill payments and stop signs. My foot is heavy and rebellious - "yes, look at me - I'm turning left and I'm not signalling!"

This is what I hope Sabrina connects to when she is driven in ambulance to the Emergency Room. I hope she hears this song, slightly. As blood escapes from her skull, forehead, nose ..... as she drifts to unconsciousness in romantic traffic. They stop and let her pass. The romantic traffic cares for her.

A new appreciation for Matthew McConaughey - WARNING EXPLICIT SEX

Bio:
Birth Name
Matthew David McConaughey

Height
5' 11¾" (1.82 m)

Mini Biography
Deleted due to boredom. Can apply to every American kid growing up in Texas.

So here's the story. I can't stand this guy -- I think he's arrogant and a pretty boy. Sure, I've watched "the Wedding Planner" and "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" etc." YAWN. Something about him just bugs me -- especially when I see him on Leno or wherever - his persona is like his shit don't stink.

Until last night, when this crazy movie came on 'KILLER JOE'. Fabulous cast - Thomas Hayden Church, Emile Hirsche, Juno Temple, but even more amazingly Gina Gershon.

This is the same switch of appreciation for Tom Cruise after I watched him in Magnolia! It just takes one movie for greatness to show - a fan base, a true fan base.

The following scene is truly offensive, it is a dark comedy after all, but please watch the movie in it's entirely to appreciate it's brilliance!

VIDEO HAS SINCE BEEN REMOVED DUE TO COPYRIGHT LAWS

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Pumped up Kicks

Have a ton of news to add ... but need three days in row to compile, a continuous commitment of thought and alertness, driving home from the most pathetic job imaginable on Earth, a Bowling Alley.  And having to listen to 20 year old co-worker TWATS and their pumped up kicks.  Not that I don't like 20 year old beings, since I have two of my own ..... it's the laziness, slowness, the disengagement of responsibility, respect, courtesy.

I can see the disconnect and why this business is failing.

I have the most pathetic job imaginable on Earth......yet here I am, hoping it's not, right up until it's eventual bankruptcy closure.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

My name is Elinor.

I remember yesterday like it was yesterday.

I was a day younger of course, not as old as I thought I was or felt like I was, not as old as the newspapers depict me as,  "the grandmother".   Geez, just because I was married and had children, who themselves blessed me with precious grandchildren, is not a reason to sum me up as a person with grey hair and should be finished with her life anyway.  I had so much to give.  I'm Elinor.

I love my husband so much.  The thought of not being with him, or any harm to his being, simply destroys me.  But I know he is strong and he protects me the same way.  We don't even talk any more.  Our eyes communicate between us now.  And that's enough.  It's all we need.

He likes to tease of yesterdays and sneaks kisses and snuggles against me on our evening walks.  It's suppose to bring down high blood pressure and reduce stress and help with digestion, and yes, maybe present a romantic opportunity for a smooch along our evening strolls.

Strange though, in an instant I was holding his hand ..... then in another I wasn't.

I remember flying.  Strange thing to remember flying, because logically we can't fly.   But there I am,  in the sky, above the car, I must be dreaming.  It must be a dream.

"A 65-year-old woman has died after being struck by a car Sunday afternoon.
The victim was walking on the north shoulder of 14 Avenue near Caribou Street around 4:30 p.m. when she was hit. Police say the suspect vehicle, a blue 2007 Honda Accord, fled the scene and was located about an hour later not far from the accident scene. The vehicle had black winter rims, no wheel covers.
It is believed the Accord was travelling westbound and passed another vehicle on the right before hitting the pedestrian. The victim's name is not being released at the request of her family.
Police would like to speak to anyone who witnessed the collision or saw the vehicle in the minutes leading up to it. If you have any information, contact Mission RCMP at 604-826-7161 or Crimestoppers at 1-800-222-84177."

Elinor died after being hit by a car while walking with her husband on 14th avenue.

My name is Elinor and I was here.  



Saturday, June 08, 2013

Story of the Newspaper, the Shooting Star and the Bad Company

I purchased a newspaper at a local convenient store one day.

I got in my car and realized I had actually taken two copies.  Worried that the convenient store clerk would have 75 cents deducted from her pay because of a discrepancy in the daily cash out,   I returned to the counter and paid another 75 cents.   I figured I might as well add to her sales output and not have a frowned upon 'return'.

So I arrive at work, 20 minutes early, fill my bottle with purified water apparently distilled by the company water fountain, and lay the two copies of the daily news on my desk.   By 8:15am both copies are missing.

Not again!  What's with these cheap fucking engineers:  high technological wizards, electrical, hardware, software, mechanical, mathematicians, rocket scientists.  They keep swiping my newspapers.  And not only that, these guys are being paid for toilet shits and when I eventually get my newspapers back, each page has been spread wide open, page after page, aromas left behind by their spewing fart spats and bouquets of diarrhea.

Every single page has been violated, flipped over and plundered, section after section:  Current events, the entertainment gossip, sports -- even my crossword puzzle has "12 down" smeared in green booger snot.   The defilement didn't even stop at the Horoscopes.   Moist fingers, brow sweats and finger licking, bowel grunts, thin toilet paper, long finger nails.  Leftovers.  I am so grossed out I can't eat my lunch and read my newspaper at the same time.  My enjoyment of fresh ink doesn't exist.

But what's more disgusting is these same regular 'shit pushers' use my computer and type away on my keyboard, and after they've finished hitting my keys,  they have left a distinct smell behind.  I bring my fingers close to my nose and detect the smell.  It's urine, fresh from the corners of my pages.

I hate these guys, but they pay me extremely well.

 

Thursday, June 06, 2013

Due Diligence

Trust me, there is a reason for this musical interlude.

Nothing new to report, other than the re-hiring of a person, whose profile already has whispers of fraud and stealing company money and paying for son's wedding and being in charge and control, with utterly no supervision or guidance from lazy owners, taking advantage and stealing revenue and court proceedings and newspaper headlines. Acquittal : I don't know but it sure left a sour outcome in the spittoon of sales that dwindled to virtually nothing. Nothing.

Somehow, her name farted out from some other Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, also in process of rejoining the company, because she knows it so well and hides the processes and procedures equally well. She knows we're fucked without her. She's famous and everybody loves her.

We've rehired her, too. They are so stupid! --- lessons learned, people, lessons learned. Sadly, the new owners are desperate to make money (as all new business owners feel when making little revenue at the start) but to be honest with you, if I KNEW ALL THIS SHIT WENT DOWN, THEN WHY DON'T THEY -- DIDN'T THEY DO THEIR DUE DILIGENCE!!!

Hence, they need someone like ME, sadly, they will never know. So I happily attach a song and let the days progress. I await my eventual dismissal. Lessons learned. Lessons learned.

Sunday, June 02, 2013

Skin Tags

The internet states:  
Often workplaces demand a sober dressing from their employees.   A pant suit or casual outfit can be accessorized with a striking brooch, necklace, earring, bracelet or even a watch to add zing to the simple look without it being over the top and obvious in the eyes of the management.

One could even carry an arresting handbag or wear a pair of unusual shoes which will offset and add contrast to the outfit.    One could even highlight a monochrome outfit with a splash of contrasting color in the form of a headband, bracelet, belt or even ring.  

The accessory can be an extension of the individual's personality.   The idea is to go bold and be daring.   Having fun with accessories and experimenting with them is the first step to enjoying high fashion.   One of the most favorite rules of high fashion is the ability to mix and match patterns.  

My fashion statement is using Tea Tree Oil on my skin tags, an internet remedy, smells like shit --- no not shit --- like old bark tree growth shit, slimy fermented moss tree skin, which I am to apply 3 times a day on cotton swab for at least 2-3 weeks.   Holy fuck!   I  can taste the smell, it's glued on my tongue when I apply it with cotton swab. *spit spit*  

One will let you know if it works or not.

Being Ordinary, the plain one.

Brenda, Beth, Gina ... can't recall the name associated with the fat girl with the pixie cut hairdo, waxed down sideburns, red nail polish. Claims she's Gino's girlfriend, that he lives in North Van, British Properties. He's coming soon to "pick me up" so I bum another smoke. We wait outside the school grounds. Gino's coming. Another free cigarette.  The wind shyly scatters leafs in parking lot, as cars depart and the emptiness fills up with the smell of dinner and darkening skies.  Eventually my hunger abandons her and her pack of cigarettes, once again.

Apparently he's some rock star and they are lovers. She's 15-16 years old at this time, and I'm impressed she can make up such stories and think the crowd she hangs with actually believe her, that we allow her to continue day after day, without a limo arriving to pick her up after school, in the leafy storm of empty lot.

There's another girl, too.  Cindy.  She says "Lennox" is coming from his spaceship. She is tall and gangly and has greasy black pixie cut, and wears 3D glasses and a zipper smile. Except she doesn't smoke cigarettes, so we don't waste our time waiting for alien arrival.  We don't waste our time on Cindy at all.

I can't top either story. I don't know how to bullshit and appear truthful. I don't have the look. I am ordinary. Plain. My hero is the curly blonde haired guy, who died in the movie "Carrie", American Hero, Starbuck, the Captain on the Love Boat and Mrs. Partridge. I won't have grown to have a musical influence for another year or so .... I will be a follower, a listener, a believer, a disbeliever, a friend with a nicotine habit.



As a member of the 10 year and 20 year reunion committee, we could not contact Cindy. She has simply disappeared.

And as I type this in my Blog in the year 2013, it is my hope that she somehow finds her way back, that the plain girl still stands beside her for at least a few minutes as she waits for Lennox.

Saturday, June 01, 2013

Magnetic Son

Warning

This post is full of boasting and bragging about my fantabulous son, Brandon.  But not nearly as much as Rosie O'Donnell does on Twitter and her hourly instagram tweets of her new baby daughter.

Continue if you must, lots of girl-chickie-teenage-love-banter.

Always a crowd pleaser, we begin our journey with two teenaged girls pretending to be drunk, pretending they know not what they do, *glug glug* from a brown papered bag blanketing a power drink.  For their sake, let's pretend they added an ounce or so of mom and dad's wodka.

Unfortunately, the video is unavailable due to privacy settings, so I have removed it.

We continue, with a self-portrait by an admirer -- time consuming rendering that graces FB posts far and wide.


Since then, Brandon has grown to the more maturer look of Justin Bieber ... with a striking resemblance.



That being said, we logically follow the dance routine, the dance steps, the choreographer who insists, teaches, touches, admires.


Brandon is also the luckiest kid around, striking up a long lasting friendship with his buddy from Cultus Lake - Deandre - as they navigate life and girls and the future, whatever lies ahead.



I am pleased to announce the Facebook "in a relationship" status with the most prettiest girl I can imagine, Serena!  Truly stunning!