Saturday, August 27, 2011

If You Ain't Got No Grammar.

Dear Globlets,

I may or may not have just come back from a night club (is that what it's called?) where my dear friend celebrated her 19th birthday, and I may or may not be writing this intoxicated, but typo-free. While I was there, I saw this guy look at me and smile two or three times. Usually I just looked away smiling, but just before we left he saw me again and I smiled back! It was very exciting. Like with a bit of eye contact and everything. Then I asked Michaela if it was time to go, and it was.

So, Craig's List style:

Missed Connections
"To the guy in the blue plaid/checkered shirt, AKA Smiley Guy: Can you use an apostrophe? And can you do so drunk? Because I can.

Sincerely,
Ori
PS. If you can, that's all that matters."

Because IF YOU AIN'T GOT NO GRAMMAR TAKE YO BROKE ASS HOME.



("Grammar" because "punctuation/apostrophe" has too many syllables. ;) )

Yeah, the song ain't so hot, but being well-educated is.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

"Urine, your table is ready!"

Dear Globlets,

Yesterday I tried on a pair of $30 shoes that I love but wasn't sure if I should purchase because I don't actually need them (yesIdoyesIdoyesIdo). I decided to think about it and put them on hold (because with my luck, a group of small-footed Asians would come in and buy the two size fives they had). I took the box of shoes to the counter and told the girl what name to put down.
"Oriana. O-r-i-a-n-a."
She writes: ORI
"A-n-a," I say.
ORINA. "Like this?"
"No, a-n-a."
She scratches out ORINA and writes... "O-R-I-*hesitation*-N-A. "Okay, they'll be here waiting for you."

This is why when I go to restaurants with people I usually give someone else's name to the host(ess). "Kim" is a million times easier than "Oriana" and "Ori." "Ori" is usually "Cory," and Oriana is usually, "Can you spell that? ORINA?"

The best part is orina means urine in Spanish.

THANKS. NOW I REALLY WANT TO BUY THOSE SHOES.

"Urine, your table is ready!"

Last night I thought about it and decided that if the girl grabs the box of shoes along with the piece of paper insulting my name, I'm going to ask to see the paper and write an A after the I. Maybe only if it's the same girl. She probably has her Dogwood diploma.


They had really bad service there. I wore those shoes for something like ten minutes and walked around the store, and no one even made eye contact with me. There was a girl who worked there right next to me, doing some tasks... Ignoring customers is simply unacceptable in the store I work at. It just isn't done.

Next time, if I remember and am in the mood to screw with people...
"Can I take your name, please?"
"Beavis. Table for two."

"Under what name?"
"Aphrodite."
"A-f-r-o...d-y-t-e-e."

"Table for three. Can I get your name?"
"Pocahontas."
"Poca... okay. How many kids menus?"
Adrian and I together: "ZERO."
Kids menus are typically for children 12 and under. I'm turning 20 next month and Adrian, who is significantly taller than me, will be 16 in October, and as far as I can tell, my breasts have far outgrown the average size of prepubescent ones (and most grown women's, in fact).

I'm just saying.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

We No Speak Vegeteriano.

Dear Globlets,

We no speak vegeteriano.


"Click me."

"Click me. It makes me bigger."

"Clickmeclickmeclickme."

Mmmm.

Bacon, sausage, mushroom, mozza with thyme and basil from our garden. I even made the sauce from scratch.

I love this song.


And I feel both versions deserve to be heard.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Baby Showers: It's Raining Babes

(Hallelujah! It's raining Babes. - Good theme?)

Dear Globlets,

I've watched this so many times now that I must share it. It was decided that I will be buying this toy for the firstborn of one of my friends who actually likes children and intends to bear one or more in the future. (She's crazy, but enjoys long walks on the beach, the Transformers movies, and populating the earth. She also doesn't mind it when I Photoshop my face onto her body.)



And this is why my friends are all going to host secret baby showers. But that's okay. Marissa and I will go to the pub and play pool, pick up some handsomes, and get knocked up so that we can... Wait, no. Why go through the trouble? We pretend that we got knocked up and have either really horrible bacon-filled baby showers or we have secret ones where we ... go to the pub and play pool.

Don't worry, Marissa. We don't have to drink.

Much.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Good eggs with onions.

Dear Globlets,

My brother.

Need I say more?

Perhaps for those who do not know him, I need to. My brother is great. He helps me get my shit together when I'm rushing around, trying not to be late for work. He'll fill my water bottle and grab me a snack. He's a good egg, as the fabulous Esther Parker would say. As good of an egg as he is, he is also sometimes the most oblivious. For example, in Chile, my dad and I ate nearly half a container of ice cream right next to Adrian before he realized we had been eating his favourite flavour for the last ten minutes. Adrian also likes to do things the longest possible way around. For example, I just asked him to take out the compost and the garbage. I would have, first, put Lucy in the bathroom so I wouldn't have to worry about her running away. Then I would have put the freshly-cut veggie bits into the compost container, grabbed the garbage on my way out, and put the compost in the "Incinerator" (as my mom calls it) and the garbage in the bin. One trip. Adrian, on the other hand, goes to the door with the cutting board full of veggie bits in hand and then realizes Lucy wants to go out. She has wanted to escape every day for five years, yet Adrian is never prepared for this. He shoos her away. She leaves. He unlocks the door. She returns. I suggest that he put down the cutting board and THEN put her in the bathroom. He does so, leaves, and makes two more trips: one for the compost container and then another for the garbage.

Sometimes when I facepalm at the lack of efficiency this boy demonstrates, he gets upset, I get in trouble, and occasionally I'll feel bad. He just has a weird way of doing things. He cares not about multiple trips or suggestions from me on how to speed up the process.

Today, I decided to make soup. As the good egg he is, Adrian helped me prepare the veggies.

We peel the carrots and parsnip, clean and trim the celery and leek, drop in the peppercorns and cloves of garlic, and dunk in the chicken legs. I check in the baskets where we keep shallots, onions, potatoes, and garlic for an onion, only to find three squishy/powdery green ones. I decide not to kill my family, so instead of putting them in the soup, I chuck them.

"Adrian, can you please go to the store and get an onion?" I ask.
"Okay," he says, staring at Family Guy.
"Can you... go get it now?"
"Okay." He gets off the bar stool and pets Lucy.
"So, you're okay with getting the onion?" I say, anxiously looking at the nearly-boiling pot of almost-soup.
"Wait, what? Me?"
"Yes, you're getting the onion. Look at me. Do I look ready to go out?" I point at the tissue stuck in my nose. "I'm sick, remember? Can you get a small yellow one, with the brown on the outside? You know."
"Oh. Okay."

Soon enough, he returns with a medium-sized onion. I take off the first crispy layers, and before I drop it into the soup, I want to make sure it isn't too late to do so because the soup was already boiling. I explain to my mom: "In the time it took Adrian to go get a new onion (because the others were dead), the soup started boiling. Is it okay to put the onion in as it is or is it too late?"
"There are some onions. I bought them yesterday," she replies, even though I know there aren't any onions in the basket.

I look at Adrian. "Did you go to the store with mom yesterday?" I ask.
"Yes." He looks at the hanging baskets where we keep our fruit.
"Who put the onions there?" I ask him, pointing at what I now know is a plastic bag of onions next to the apples.
"Me," he replies.
"And who just went to the store to buy a new onion?"
"Me."
"Okay, that's what I thought. Just checking."

"Maybe he likes the exercise?" my mom suggested.
"He must."

Monday, August 15, 2011

"Spreading the Germs."

Dear Globlets,

I'm so sexy when I'm sick.



See?

Bad for Business.

Dear Globlets,

Restaurants are known to have awful websites. When I worked at One of a Grind, I often thought about getting permission to build up the online profiles for the business. As I live in the 21st century, if I want to find somewhere to eat or have a coffee, I Google it. I can find coffee shops or restaurants or bistros just by typing in an address for Google to search by, whether I want to find a place downtown, by my house, or when I go to Nanaimo. The entries with the most details and reviews are the ones I would consider first. If I can't even get the hours of operation, how do I know they're still open at all? When I looked up One of a Grind and found a couple of entries made by, and in reply to, the previous owner, I knew that if I was looking for a cafe/bistro, I would probably overlook this one. I firmly believe that having a website, or at least an online reputation of some sort - even on restaurant review sites - will increase business.

My mom linked me to these sites:
This one describes the shitty restaurant website phenomenon, and this one has funny comments about shitty restaurant websites (For example: “Yay! The link keeps *bouncing*! I love that trying to enter your website is a fun game.” And “I was wondering if this place had an atmosphere of murmuring patrons and clinking dishes. Thanks to the sound effects on this website, now I know!”).

If a bad restaurant website can deter potential patrons, what can be said about bad university websites?

As you may or may not know, I consider the UVic Website of Chaos and Doom one of my arch enemies, right up there with spiders and peas. You might have read this post which describes what I went through during my admission process.

Today, I went online to see which of my recent tuition payments had gone through for both Camosun and UVic. Unfortunately, nothing shows up yet for Camosun, but the transaction did work according to my bank. Next, I realized that the $200 that was supposed to go towards my UVic tuition for the Fall semester was sitting in the Summer semester area:
Term Charges:
$95.00

Term Credits and Payments:
$295.00

Awesome. I started looking around the site for ways to transfer payments from one semester to another, or at least something that might help or say, "If you pay fees too much in advance, just chill, broski, because we'll sort it out when the time comes." Even a "If you pay before September, your money is going to end up in the wrong semester, trolololo" message would have been nice. I'm not too worried about the money, but it got me thinking about the UVic Website of Chaos and Doom again.

I was reminded of the shitstorm that was the process of post-secondary information collection, and of Camosun and UVic's inability to communicate with each other, despite the fact that numerous students transfer from Camosun to UVic every year.

I would understand, perhaps, that going to the university to speak with them in person might be more beneficial than gathering information from the website IF it had not already been proven that not even the humans can tell me what I need to know. That's the point of the internet: to have oceans worth of information at the tip of one's fingers, because it's too hard seek it from the tip of another's tongue. I cannot expect a human to have all the information they need for each individual student, but in the 21st century I think it is fair to expect that a website would have all the information each individual student might need. Things like "How and when to pay tuition online so that it goes towards the right semester" would be nice.

And I can't help but think... I am trying to get as much information as I can so that I can make a well-informed decision that will affect the rest of my life. Going to university is a huge step in my life. It's probably going to be the most important time of my life. If I fuck it up, so much money and time and energy will all have been wasted. So, you'd think that accessibility to information, either online or in person, would be fantastic. You know, because some of us might actually want to know ahead of time that the TENS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS that will probably be spent on post-secondary education will be spent properly.

While poorly-designed restaurant websites piss people off enough to make them order a pizza instead of go out, there is no alternative for students who want to make the best decision about their education, who want all the facts in advance, who fully expect to end up tens of thousands of dollars in debt before they are finished school. If I'm going to dish out that kind of dough, I want to know that every dollar is worth it, that I made the right decision, and that this is the right path for me, but if the information is not even close to accessible, then it isn't fair to ask me, or anyone else who wants an education, to plunge into the bottomless pit of student debt.

Facts upfront, motherfuckers. Facts upfront, and then you'll get your money.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Oh, Man Man.


Dear Globlets,

I hate it when I think to myself, "OH! I should write about [this] later!" Because I never really know when I'm actually going to. The best thing is to write about it the moment I get the idea, but when I'm grocery shopping, or driving to Costco, or watching cash and running clothes back to the sales floor and attending to customers all at the same time, it's not always easy to access a laptop, or even a notebook. All I can do sometimes is make a mental note:
- bitch about waste due to unnecessary/excessive packaging
- bitch about forgetting mental notes
- bitch about bitches who bitch all the time

But not this time. This time, I write within minutes of having the idea.

As you may or may not know, I already bought myself a most magnificent super-early birthday present: a beautiful pen. While some people might think, "A pen? Really? You paid $80 for a pen? You know you can get a pack of twenty at Staples for $15 right?" And to those people I would reply with a large, "Fuck you. Just- Take it. Write something!" And they would, and they, too, would know the magnificence of my super-early birthday present.

-----
Well, that went well. See how I began this post talking about how it's best to write the moment you get an idea? I wrote that FOUR DAYS AGO. Well done me. At least this time around I'm not leaving the half-written post to rot in my drafts folder.

Post continued...
-----

While on my break at work, I wandered the halls of the mall, daring not to enter any but two stores: La Vie en Rose (I know, I know! Where did my La Senza loyalty go?) and HMV. There's a bra at La Vie en Rose that I'll get once I've paid for school as it's what I've been looking for for ages, and there's a CD at HMV that I already knew existed, that I've already held in my hand, that I'd already set back down on the shelf with a heavy sigh when I convinced myself against spending the $20 the first time around. There's a CD at HMV that I went in specifically for, remembering exactly which shelf on which I had put it back. I've already listened to all the songs on the CD. I've already done the math: 13 songs to $20 is more than I might pay per song on iTunes. I've already found a way to listen to all the songs on all the albums I want FOR FREE ONLINE. But no. That damn sly HMV salesperson said it herself: "If you get it on iTunes, you won't be able to physically hold the CD in your hands." So, I thought to myself, "You're right, Damn Sly HMV Salesperson (that's what it said on the name tag). I'll take it. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY IN TWO MONTHS ANYWAY." That's close, right?

The worst part is that I literally just checked how much the album costs on iTunes. I guess I paid $7 more for the physical case, CD, and scary poster that will totally go with my room decor. I already have skulls littering my walls. 'CAUSE I AM BAD ASS. And by "bad ass" I mean "lying." I must have only looked at the individual song prices, which are over 99 cents per song, which makes the physical CD package seem more worth it. On the bright side, I am supporting a fantastic artist that I discovered by chance.

Justification process complete.

The artist is Man Man. I purchased their album "Life Fantastic."

I discovered them through grooveshark.com (internet radio), and while the Indie station is "meh" 99% of the time and forces me to listen to the band Fun no matter how many unhappy faces I give it, Grooveshark randomly decided to play some weird music where the lead singer sings with a bizarre hoarse voice laced with beautiful consonance and wretched dissonance played by any and every instrument, though primarily piano, in a style that would best suit a carnival... where someone perhaps sacrifices some livestock. I don't know.

I like the HMV description of their album "Rabbit Habits":

What a difference two years makes. In 2006, Philadelphia wierdos Man Man released their second album, an off-the-wall slab of musical insanity as confusing as it was arresting. In 2008, a move to a bigger label finds the highly theatrical band fully utilizing all the tricks in its bag (cartoon percussion, Tom Waits-like junkyard/thrift-shop arrangements, twisted carnival atmospheres, and an Animal Collective-like penchant for experimentation) without losing focus on their songs or their overall sound. While a freewheeling, try-anything-once aesthetic reigns, it's utilized in service of carefully constructed songs whose structure remains at the center of every track. RABBIT HABITS is the sound of an expansive, anarchic ensemble finding its feet and using its outsider orientation to both push existing boundaries and forge powerful new ideas.


Here's a description for the Life Fantastic album.

When I first heard some of their songs, I didn't like it. I didn't like the guy's voice, and I couldn't stand the chaos of it all. Funny enough, the beauty among the chaos was what later drew me in, and I don't say that metaphorically. I literally mean there are parts of songs that are just fucking amazing to listen to, while others make your ears suffer a little. But it hurts so good. Especially when you know the next verse will take you back to that fucking amazing sound you previously heard.

That's what I like to hear in music: pain and suffering. Sure, make me suffer with you a little, but only because I know you'll reward me in thirty seconds with a bridge to absolutely die for. This isn't Pearl Jam or ACDC (Sorry, Marissa), where the suffering extends throughout the entirety of each song and drives a person to suicide.

Let me explain.

Fun:

When I hear this I can't help but think, "PLEASE, PLEASE MAKE THE GODDAMN JOY AND HAPPINESS STOP!" Which is probably bad... but true. It's too happy. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Somebody needs to rip out this person's heart, trample on it, and make him eat what's left of it with a huge side of peas, because seriously. Stop. being. so. happy. I can't take it. I don't know why.

Compare it to Man Man:

This is a favourite:

And sure it starts happyish enough, but
"He don't even taste the food he eats anymore
There's a space in place where his heart was before
He don't even taste the food he eats anymore
And she don't want to dine alone
And he don't want to die alone
And she wants to live to eat."

This one is beautiful:

"Who... are we / to love / at all?"

And I looooooove this one - Haute Tropique:

I visualize choreography to it. It's one of my all-time favourites.

Steak Knives:


And the one that got me hooked - Engrish Bwudd:

- "Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an English man!"

My favourite. (The youtube video isn't so good.)


I feel like I've been good enough to purchase the remaining albums on iTunes now: I've promoted them and I've purchased their latest CD at regular price. I'm sorry I can't afford the other physical CDs at regular price, but until Man Man/HMV makes them almost the same price as buying them from iTunes and making my own CD, I can't be expected to pay $2 per song. i need 2 pay 4 skool 1st c?

OH. And guess who discovered them the WEEK AFTER they played in Vancouver? +1 I guess I'll have to catch up with them in Spain... for my birthday... They'll be there in September! But the question is... Where will the lottery money be?


It's midnight. I hope you're happy.