blimey! Corrie's gone batty!

Cheers, mate!

I don't know if any of you dear readers watch ye olde boob tube, but I sure do. I like crime shows mostly- the kind with real good lookin' science nerds solving cases with single strands of hair or one's with street-wise cops just trying to keep the city safe. I also like funny shows, 'cause a girl's gotta laugh. And I like gripping emotional stories about teens trying to figure out the crazy world we live in- like Degrassi (I think it's against the law for anyone who grew up in the 1980's in Canada to dislike Degrassi. RCMP officers can pull you over without warning and ask you to name all the members of "The Zit Remedy".)

Anyway, one show that keeps popping up in my viewing routine from time to time is Coronation Street. It's a brilliant show because you can stop watching for a year or five and, since the characters are all on the show for life, you will always be able to go down to the Rover's for a pint with some old chums. Children who were just born when I first started watching now have wee little nippers of their own. It must be very odd working as a actor on that program- like leading a double life. In one life, you're a lowly barmaid and in another you're a famous celebrity with a gig on a popular soap. I mean, from time to time someone dies or moves away but, other than that, you're a Corrie lifer.

Lately, two characters on the program have stolen my heart: Craig and Rosie, the goths. They're fourteen years old and have black nail polish and faux leather trench coats and the whole bit. Craig's dad is always teasing him since he really can't stand the goth thing. In one episode he mocks his son's biscuit choice at tea time, pointing out that pink wafers aren't very sinister. He goes a bit nuts when Craig gets his tongue pierced and Craig accuses his pops of being 'gothist'. Hilarious! Craig doesn't call Rosie his girlfriend- instead she's his "partner in darkness". And here's the best line yet: "Can't you feel the dark vibes coming from this bench?" Absolutely brilliant!

Here in Canada we are about nine months behind the chronology of episodes. Either that or the English celebrate Christmas in September. At any rate, in the last episode aired on the god ol' CBC Tommy, Craig's pop, flew into a blind rage because a) his son missed the ice hockey game they were going to go to and b) when he did find him at Rosie's, a condom fell out of Craig's pocket. Tommy lost his temper and, as Rosie later told her mum, "proper poonched 'im". The poor Gothy lad was all sprawled out on the cobblestones, even though he and Rosie never even did the deed. See, Craig and Rosie found a website that said that the world would end on March 17th and didn't want to die virgins. Later, just before they were about to, they decided that they shouldn't trust the internet so much and decided not to. Tommy didn't believe him (since, if you thought the world was going to end, why would you need a 'thinggy'? Hmmm?) and felt justified in clocking his boy in the face.

I don't want to waste my time filling you in on Corrie plot lines since there are already a heap of blogs out there devoted to just that. All I wanted to do was let you know that there are goths living on Coronation Street.

It's the cutest thing ever.

Breakfast special

Does this ever happen to you: You're sitting around, trying to do something productive, when all of a sudden you're mind latches on to a random thought and won't let go. Well, right now I can't stop thinking about Nate's Deli. I used to go there with my Dad for breakfast every Saturday. I would always order two eggs, sunnyside up with bacon and white toast. I really looked forward to this time, 'cause it gave me a chance to hang with my pops and to build various towers out of creamers while we waited for our food. Here are some things I remember about Nate's:

1) There is ( was? I haven't been there in years) a more upscale restaurant beside Nate's called "The Place Next Door". It is run by the same folks who run Nate's. For a little while, the restaurant in the hotel across the street changed it's name to "The Place Across The Street", since that's what everyone called it. The owners of Nate's got pissed and told them to change the name, since they didn't want to be associated with the across-the-street joint. They did and everyone lived happily ever after. (Moral of the story: everyone knows where Nate's is.)

2) There were (are?) various sandwiches named after famous people such as "The Liberace" and "The Paul Anka". I guess that's not all that special- a lot of delis name their sandwiches after celebrities.

3) On the way to the counter to pay the bill, you could purchase various types of pickled things in jars. Since my diet rarely if ever included anything floating in brine, I was always fascinated by the jars of eggs and herring and what have you.

4) On the wall beside the door to the washrooms there was a giant poster of a Native fellow eating a sandwich. As a youth, I spent a lot of time figuring out what this poster was all about. You will see the poster above; the version on the wall of Nate's was cropped so as to cut off the "... to love Levy's real Jewish rye" part. This rendered the poster a lot more ambiguous. I spent many a trip to the loo pondering what the heck this meant. I was glad to know that I wasn't obliged to be Jewish, but couldn't figure out why, or what any of this had to do with sandwich-eating Indians. It wasn't until today, blessed with the awesome power of the search engine, that I've finally gotten to the bottom of this. Mystery solved. Thank you, Library of Congress exhibition archives.

Regardless of anyone's love of rye, I certainly did love the time my dad and I spent hanging out at Nate's. No breakfast will ever live up to my memory of those Saturday eggs- no special will ever be as special.

Test results

For your entertainment and consideration:

I took some on-line quizzes. Here are the results. Perhaps this will bring us all a little closer to understanding the complex and sometimes misunderstood creature that is me.

first, we have the I.Q. test:

"Your Intellectual Type is Insightful Linguist. This means you are highly intelligent and have the natural fluency of a writer and the visual and spatial strengths of an artist. Those skills contribute to your creative and expressive mind. "

Yup, that sounds about right.

Next, the 'Which Sex And The City character are you' quiz:

"Your answers peg you as a Carrie-type, much influenced by the Air Sign qualities associated with Gemini, Libra and Aquarius. Like confident Carrie, a sex columnist, you're curious and perceptive, always seeking answers and never satisfied with the superficial. An Air Sign influence can lead to indecision and an avoidance of tough issues, like with Carrie and her on-again, off-again attachment to Mr. Big. Forward-thinking, incredibly intelligent and witty, you just exude quirky charm. You'd be utterly bored by someone who's just a pretty face or hot body -- though you don't mind looking and flirting! You're more turned on by an equally smart and funny mate, someone who challenges your mind and makes you laugh. You love to talk, so you need a good listener who's open to playful and eccentric ideas about love and lovemaking."

Why yes, I do in fact ooze quirky charm. Thank you for noticing.

Here are the strangest results, from a 'personality test based on decades of research by color psychologists around the world'. They show you coloured squares and you eliminate them based on what colour you like best. This is what it uncovered about my true nature:

"The fear of rebuff and the extreme caution of her approach make it difficult for her to achieve the degree of intimacy and identification she desires. Has lost the resilience and strength of will necessary to contend with existing difficulties, which appear to her as deliberate opposition. Stands her ground, but is subjected to intolerable pressure. Needs cooperation and emotional fulfillment and feels that, in their absence, there is nothing she can do to improve the current situation. Wants to 'get away from it all' quickly. Feels that she is burdened with more than her fair share of problems. However, she sticks to her goals and tries to overcome her difficulties by being flexible and accommodating. Feels that things stand in her way, that circumstances are forcing her to compromise and forgo some pleasures for the time being. Has a powerful drive towards sensuousness. Anxiety and a restless dissatisfaction, either with circumstances or with unfulfilled emotional needs, have produced considerable stress. She tries to escape from these into a conflict-free security in which she can relax and recover. The tensions induced by trying to cope with conditions which are really beyond her capabilities, or reserves of strength, have led to considerable anxiety and a sense of personal (but unadmitted) inadequacy. She attempts to escape from this into a stable and secure environment in which she can relax and recover, free from any further demands."

Wow! Who knew my love of neutral tones made me come off like such a sad-sack weirdo! I'm a little ashamed of this, but, gosh darn it, I just do like taupe and rust more than bright yellow. I mean, some of it is admittedly true, but all this poppycock about 'conflict-free security', 'extreme caution of her approach' and 'a sense of personal inadequacy'? Obviously they've mistaken me for someone else.

So, there you have it. Those of you who know me well can judge the accuracy of these tests for yourself. The rest of you can build a more complete picture of who I really am deep down inside. Just ignore everything except 'incredibly intelligent and witty'- that's all you need to know.

The best things in life are free...

Greetings!

Those of you who have spoken to me recently know that I was sailing the choppy seas of applying for a grant from the art’s council for our art collective all last week. There were descriptions of proposed projects that needed writing. There were budgets of expected expenditures that required tabulation. C.v.’s and bios needed to be compiled and formatted. I must say that I became just a tad flustered by the fact that several members of the collective were more than a bit tardy with getting their information to me for inclusion in the application. This caused me to send out some very curt, dare I say terse, telephone messages as well as some e-mail so testy they were composed in ALL CAPS! CAPS! Egad!

It all came right in the end. It was a monumental task, but one that was completed just hours away from the last and final deadline. We pulled up our socks and sprinted down the home stretch licketty-split. Despite congratulations for a job well done, my earlier testiness did not go unnoticed (it rarely does, trust me). In fact, Jason and Duncan both made comments while fessing up to their culpability in the tardy department that they would no doubt have to hear all about this on my blog. True, I am making mention of the fact that these lads did stress me out a bit more than I would have liked. But, let it be known throughout the electronic universe that Jason and Duncan are still my “superfriends” now and for always.

(there, do you boys feel a little better now?)