Thursday, April 29, 2010

numbers can be so creepy.





the most beautiful little cemetery is on my new running route. i did some research on its history and learned that the complete records of who is buried here were destroyed in a fire but the last burial took place in 1975.

the local museum's website had this to say:
"Cemetery Road was established in 1907 with its starting point on Davidson Road and proceeding south to a dead end."


i also learned these facts:

- according to the plot plan, the number of graves is 33
- the lot number at the time it was converted to a graveyard was East half, Lot 66, Plan 444
- the cost of having the land surveyed, marked and pegged was $44.00
- the cost of logging and brush burning was $77.00

Friday, April 23, 2010

was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships?


elisabeth, josh and i went for breakfast at cosmos this morning and found a stack of old unused notebooks (circa 1930's?) en route. some of them come with multiplication tables on the back covers, others with informative instructions on how to build a miniature fleet of boats.

if you can't be bothered to read the entire thing, all you need to know is that any Tom, Dick or Helen can accomplish this task by following these simple steps:

* first you find carpenters at work (easy)
* then you collect hundreds of odd-shaped blocks of wood (easy)
* then you whittle (easy)
* then you nail (easy)
* then you paint windows and doors in black (easy)
* then you sail them (gallantly) across the surface of a small body of water (easy)
* repeat dozens of times (gets even easier)

any boy or girl can do this.
any face at all.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

too good for the hood?

we have our own eiffel tower:

Saturday, April 10, 2010

the kiss of death

ok so i feel like i got the kiss of death yesterday and this is how:

it happened at work, i was trying to help a youngish, smallish, nervous fellow locate his name on a list. his name was christopher and the list was clipped to a clipboard. christopher stood next to me and twitched while he peered over my shoulder. our auras might have touched. as i was absorbed in my task, he turned his head to face me and did the strangest thing. he blew onto my mouth. it was a very brisk exhalation but - make not mistake - it was an intentional breath of air directed at my mouth. i was so caught off guard i didn't even flinch. he left the office and i quickly turned counter-clockwise three times and spat on the floor to undo the spell. i think that's what you're supposed to do. just now i wanted to do some supplementary reading on superstitious things and went to one of my favorite sites for help.

it's gnod.

it's a very cool thing - you put in an writer's name and it spits out a map of other authors you may enjoy based on the preferences of previous users. you can also do similar searches for music and movies. the name you selected appears in the middle of the map and the names hovering closest to it are the most relevant matches for your search.

observe:

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

mon real

just another tuesday...



Wednesday, March 31, 2010

brostel inc?


hmmmm.

now what do you suppose happens here?

stop your promises (addendum)


ok, so, jude just sent me an email in regards to late night advice: part two.
here's what she said:

"...just to clarify though, legitimate expectations only arise where there's an issue of procedural fairness in administrative law - that is, when you are appealing a decision made by an administrative body. So it's not grounds for suing people in civil court. Estoppel fits nicely with what you're saying, especially promissory estoppel. If someone makes a representation or promise to you (in the absence of a contract) and you act in reliance of it, they cannot then turn it around on you - you had legitimate expectations. Get it?"

totally get it.
totally love it.
those two words look so pretty next to each other.

hey elisabeth, make a new sign:
promissory estoppel


late night advice: part two


elisabeth belliveau
is a secret comedienne.

while i sleep (on her couch) she makes inspirational signs (this may be a subtle strategy to motivate me off her couch). then she pastes them up around the apartment.
like so:

today's series features three rules (to live by). these happen to be rules that have entered our lives this week. here's a brief explanation of each:

1. my feelings are valid:
this is basically a cheesy way of saying never apologize for the expression of any and all feelings - including the feeling to submerge your fingertips gingerly into an eyeball. (score)

2. legitimate expectations:
this fascinating legal term was introduced to us by my sister jude (a lawyer, don't call her 'jude law' - she's heard it before and it doesn't make her laugh) that involves suing people who lead you down a certain road but then try to pull a quick and dirty 180. whoa there - not so fast pumpkin. there may be grounds for a lawsuit here - grounds that include:

"legitimate expectations"
(possibly brought on by valid feelings)

3. make the money (aka MTM):

this one is easy.
you just make the money.
i could do it in my sleep.

there.
done.

thanks elisabeth
xo

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Monday, March 22, 2010

it's my blog's special moontime.

i notice when i log into webmaster tools and check my crawlstats that there tends to be a spike of activity around the 22nd of every month.

it's the day tangential downpour really excels.
thanks to you

here. have something tasty:

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Sunday, March 14, 2010

late night advice

thanks elisabeth.
xo

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

counts & measures

there are few words more pleasurable than collective nouns.

consider:

a trace of hares
a richness of martens
an implausibility of gnus
a troubling of goldfish
a business of ferrets
an unkindness of ravens
a clash of bucks ('swhat i need!)
a trip of dotterel
a watch of nightingales
a crash - or even a stubbornness - of rhinos
a memory of elephants
a stare of owls

but what about octopuses (or octopi or octopii)? a friend of mine recently told me that there is nothing in the world more slippery than a baby octopus. he knew it from experience. so what is the measure word for those? perhaps there isn't one because they typically don't congregate? maybe the business of socializing is best left to furry, frisky things with fewer arms. but what if these baby octopii are accidentally lumped together, like say, if they're caught in a net? and it's your job to untangle the little sluggers? how do you communicate what you're trying to save?

"an oily medusa of baby octopii" doesn't quite roll off the tongue - but wait - what about "a greasy tongue"? a big ole greasy tongue of 'em? no?

how about...
a wonder-wiener? (you know, those toys that forever slip from your grasp)
an idea?
a slope?
reason?

apparently the octopus has three hearts - numbers one and two are used for pumping blood through the gills. the third is used for loving.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

food for goths


What do Goths eat? Say you wanted to throw a party, an event to celebrate that special brand of doom and you wanted to invite a handful of your closest gothic friends. How would you meet their culinary desires?

Allow me to clarify that when I say “gothic food” I’m aiming for something broader than cakes shaped like coffins or drinks served in chalices. I’m referring to the essence of the term - the gothic brings together things that were intended to stay forever apart: life and death, the innocent and the corrupt, technology and the human body, asparagus and wine. It’s generally agreed among wine aficionados that asparagus is the one food that doesn’t pair. Not with whites, not with reds, nothing between. Your gothic friends, however, want nothing more than to see a plate of these greens next to a nice long-stemmed glass of shiraz, preferably not in season.

Does the Goth require an appetizer? A capital-g Goth would never spoil their appetite by consuming a ‘dip’ with a baby carrot. A jelly-mold salad as a first course however? A resounding yes.

They say the way to a Goth’s heart is through the heart of something else, something like a medium-sized animal. Goths do love a good organ meat - kidneys, brains and livers will do in a pinch.

Yes to seafood – the ocean is arguably gothic: mysterious, temperamental, epic and full of death. Bring on the bouillabaisse, the lutefisk, the sharkfin soup, the turtle stew, anything endangered is top of the list. Let’s not forget that the Goth is villain first, forever seeking unsustainable, fetishistic, irresponsible fun.

You know how they've added a fifth basic taste – umami –to the lineup? Well, guess what? There’s now a sixth and it’s, yes, gothic. It’s a flavour best described as criminal and moody and found in foods like testicles, camel humps, sea cucumbers, pigeon pies. Never oats, broccoli, almond butter or oranges.

What about dairy? Quark? Only if prepared in a goat stomach. Would a Goth drink milk? Generally speaking, Goths avoid anything derived from the udder. The mammary however, is another matter. The Goth is probably busy turning several small wheels of human milk cheese in some dank basement right now. Maybe even yours? Now you’re wondering if I’m referring to the basement or the breastmilk…and I won’t clarify because there’s nothing more delicious than a perfectly aged, salted, cured, slow-cooked mystery.

Risotto? No, texture’s all wrong.

Consider an ice-sculpture of a werewolf as a centerpiece for your table.

Tongue? Absolutely – preferably still attached to the head. Goths need their food to be deliberate, staged, intentional, stylized. Think live-sushi on chopsticks that are two feet long.

It’s all about exquisitely high production values – so long as the production doesn’t involve the lifting of a gothic finger. But if you're willing to do all the work, consider lifting a steamed & braised bear's paw. It's a sure-fire winner.

Goths enjoy desserts too but only the sickeningly sweet, exceptionally tall or skillfully prepared. The meringue, the mousse, the croquembouche.

In terms of late-nite snacks, pomegranates, cherries or anything that stains will suffice. Except beets. Additionally, the Goth does appreciate a chocolate bar from time to time, Snickers in partickers, really satisfies, especially one obtained from the 7/11 in the wee hours.

Friday, February 19, 2010

où es-tu / where are you?

If you suddenly snap back into consciousness after an extended leave of absence - some sort of low-level coma, deep drunken slumber or average cheese-dream - and you’re not sure where you are, there’s an easy way to test if you’re in your bed, at home, in Montreal, with this little experiment:

1. Turn on the light and scratch a little bit of paint off any wall in the apartment– enough to reveal the last six coats applied. Among these layers, you may find one (or all!) of the following three colors: royal blue, forest green or bright orange. Here, let me visually assist you.

2. Now scratch a little paint of the opposing wall in the same room. If one of these walls is a second of the three aforementioned shades, you almost certainly - but not definitely -are in Montreal. At this stage it’s still possible that you’ve have stumbled upon the place where jesters go to die or the inside of a parrot’s skull. The determining factor lies in the ceiling so go ahead, climb on up. If beneath its rough-n-tumble, smoke-stained surface (some would describe it as sexy) you find the third and final colour, well then voila: you’re positively in Montreal.

I’ve been thinking long and hard why the entire population of this city at one point or another chose to minimize their five square feet of living space by selecting this singularly vile combination. Is it that nothing says zest (cringe) and vigor (ew) like that particularly obnoxious orange shade of orange? I’ve heard it argued that orange and blue may be complementary colors – in play-dough or freezies – and forest green was tossed in as a rebellious twist. Maybe everyone was just trying to match their entire apartment to that bedspread their boyfriend’s mom picked up from Zellers in grade 9 – I know you know the one (cuz you still have it). Maybe it’s a tribute to the metro line colors? I can't figure it out. I've had way too much vodka.