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Attention all personnel
 Incoming choppers with wounded, report to the hospital: It's nice having people over. But not as nice as when they leave. We're worn out; the kids are beat. The baby is overstimulated. If M.A.S.H. were on now, that would put her to sleep.
M.A.S.H. could be marketed as a depressant, if there were a need for such a product. Perhaps for hyperactive children. Why did McLean Stevenson ever leave that show, anyway? Dude had it good, but quit the show in its third year for a contact with NBC. Remember Hello Larry? Okay, I actually do, but I'm sure a number of you don't and that proves my point. Back to the fact that M.A.S.H. is a downer. Look at how Stevenson left M.A.S.H. It was literally with a bang. Henry Blake is surrounded by Unit 4077 as he leaves in a helicopter. Moments later, when Radar stumbles into the surgical tent to announce that Blake's helicopter crashed into the Sea of Japan, you are left numb. Numb over sadness for McLean Stevenson. Crazy isn't it? I guess M.A.S.H. was a good show in its prime, but it went on far too long. Kind of like visiting with company, I was glad to see it end.
We're Number One!
Go Leafs Go! For the first time in years, I am very excited about the future of my hockey team. As of today, the Toronto Maple Leafs are the number one team in the NHL. Maybe a Stanley Cup is in the works as a late Xmas present to all of us die-hards who refuse to forsake these boys?! We can always dream...
Children are evil
Okay, so tonight the boy is awake, which isn't unusual as it's 9:30 and he's watching Family Guy. But he keeps jumping up to ask for cookies and Coke and to grab scissors, to cut some hockey tape the baby shoplifted from an art supply shop we visited today. I didn't discover this until we got home, and for some inexplicable reason the glitter glue we purchased is missing. Is this instant karma for babies? She's not even old enough to use glue. She sure as hell won't be using the hockey tape. I didn't even know it was hockey tape until my husband told me. What do artists use this for, anyway? I'm still pissed about the glitter glue, and the boy is disappointed, because we were going to make an angel for the Christmas tree. Some Grinch must have swiped it when we were at playgroup. I guess that's the kind of karma you have to get used to when your sister is a thief.
It's a good thing I don't have a real job.
It's midnight, and the baby is still awake. Someone, please, shoot me now.
Creepy Love puts the 'Court' in Courtney
  Pretty on the inside? Any sane fan of Courtney Love has got to admit her latest incarnation as a drugged-out mom overly fond of the plastic surgeon's knife is creepy. Despite a battle with her former mother-in-law to keep custody of Frances Bean, Courtney's 11-year-old daughter with Kurt Cobain, she continues to act like a doped-up, spoiled brat.
 During her appearance in court on December 11 (when her hearing was postponed) Courtney resembled a frizzy-haired, whacked-out circus clown.
Remember the memorial two days after Kurt was found dead? Courtney read his suicide note, and cursed him out. She had the whole crowd screaming at her tortured husband, calling him an asshole. Kurt's note ended: "Please keep going Courtney, for Frances. For her life, which will be so much happier without me." You're doing a great job there, Courtney. Who's the asshole now? Despite reports that you've been through detox, you couldn't even hold it together in court. Love, who wore a pink jacket and pink sandals and carried pink roses, became anxious when the judge asked to review the probation report. “Probation. ... What is that? What is that?” she said, before making growling noises and clawing motions with her hands. source Courtney was arrested in October after becoming violent outside an ex-boyfriend's house in Los Angeles. Hours after she was released by police, she fell ill from an accidental overdose of the painkiller OxyContin. She has said she tried to make the overdose "fun" for 11-year-old Frances, who made her green tea as they waited for an ambulance to arrive.  As if to somehow make the public feel better about the incident, Courtney assured "That's the only time my daughter has ever, ever, ever pitched in on one of my little crises.
"I made it fun. I said it was going to be gross and I was going to have to make myself throw up but it was going to be OK," she told People magazine's November 3 edition. Gee, my mom wasn't half as cool when she'd OD. She'd be all, "Clean up your room before the paramedics get here." Do you think Bean got to hold back mommy's hair extensions while she puked? Courtney pleaded innocent; her lawyer says she took the wrong medication by mistake. That sounds like an excuse you'd tell your parents. If she was drugged up by accident that night, what's her reason every other day of the year? Pictures from her court appearance don't show a mom who is serious about keeping custody of her daughter.     Oh make me over: Perhaps I'm being harsh. Maybe Courtney's freakish appearance is solely due to all the surgery she's had done to her face. One thing I'd liked about Courtney is she never seemed afraid to look ugly. Now she has the air of a trashy, rich bitch who doesn't give a shit because she can afford not to.  The new look is scary. She brings to mind Katherine Helmond's character Ida Lowry, the protagonist's youth-obsessed mother in Brazil. I used to like her varying looks: from punk chick to Nirvana arm candy to widow skank to somewhat respectable actress. She always had an allure.
Today she looks like Joan Rivers on crack. Her collagen-bloated lips are more trout than pout. What's with these Hollywood women who pay big bucks for fishlips? It's not like she had skinny lips to begin with. Click her pic below for the full size.  It's okay to eat fish, because they don't have any feelings. Zits and all, skanky Courtney looked a million times better than this. I don't know how many nose jobs she's had done, or why her cheeks look so oddly stretched. I can't help but think of Kurt's words: "I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cos so are you. We've broken our mirrors."  Too bad that's not true.
Is she ugly on the inside, baby? Ugly, ugly from the back? There is no power like my pretty power My pretty power My ugly Slutkiss girl Won't you promise her smack? Is she pretty on the inside? Is she ugly?
Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime is death
 The Saddam Show: It's the bestest new reality show on TV and yet, I feel as though I've seen (or read about) it somewhere before.
I've been re-reading the George Orwell novel 1984 and comparisons with the present-day United States government and its puppet media are terrifying yet fascinating. Take the recent capture of Saddam Hussein for example: Every news station in the United States was broadcasting pictures of a filthy, bearded and disheveled Saddam on Sunday. It reminded me of the Two Minutes Hate daily telescreen broadcasts in 1984, which always showed the face of Emmanuel Goldstein, Enemy of The People, someone Big Brother and his minions wanted the people to focus their anger on. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH The protagonist of the Orwell novel, Winston Smith, works for the Ministry of Truth - his job consists of re-writing the past, changing novels, newspaper articles, press releases and any and all media, to make the government's present lies reality. Kind of like how the White House website altered Dubya's quote from May, 2003 which stated: "President Bush Announces Combat Operations in Iraq Have Ended." On August 19, 2003, that quote was changed to: "President Bush Announces Major Combat Operations in Iraq Have Ended." From 1984: "If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say this or that even, it never happened—that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture and death." On the Center For American Progress website, you can find all kinds of little tidbits that prove the government is outright lying and re-writing its own past to suit itself. Here is just one of disproven claims from a story entitled, 2003: A Year of Distortion For The American People. WHITE HOUSE CLAIM: "The Bush Administration proposed stringent new rules on power plant emissions." FACT: "The Bush administration on Friday eased clean air rules to allow utilities, refineries and manufacturers to avoid having to install expensive new anti-pollution equipment when they modernize their plants." - CBS News, 11/22/02 FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH If altering the past isn't frightening enough for you, how about the fact that people in the U.S. are just simply vanishing ? US says it doesn't know how many detainees in Cuba From 1984: "People simply disappeared, always during the night. Your name was removed from the registers, every record of everything you had ever done was wiped out, your one-time existence was denied and then forgotten. You were abolished, annihilated: vaporized was the usual word." FREEDOM IS SLAVERY IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH 
As for thoughtcrime, U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft (a complete religious fanatic and utter nutcase) has been hard at work, censoring art, media and going after people like Tommy Chong, who was arrested and sentenced to nine months in jail for selling bongs. Chong thinks he was targeted because of the characters he has played in movies and on TV. “They came after me because of the movies, Up in Smoke, Cheech & Chong, and because of my act since 1968,” says Chong. “They took my character to be my real persona.” The writer of an article on Chong in Los Angeles City Beat Magazine described the arrest as thoughtcrime. If you've never read 1984, you really must - Americans especially - because the basic ideas in the book are not just taking form in the present - but will come into being in a big way in the future if you're foolish enough to re-elect Bush in 2004.
All this and I get to change diapers too!
 Rut roh! The baby is cutting a side tooth which is causing her to bite and chew on whatever she can get in her mouth. Usually that means me, and let me tell you it makes breastfeeding a bitch. When she's teething, all she wants to do is nurse. When she nurses, she bites down hard with those tiny, razor-sharp fangs, causing me to scream out in pain.
When this occurs, my four-year-old son rolls his eyes. "What now?" My pained screams are becoming all too common in this household. The boy is sick again, and has been keeping me up all night as I worry about his cough and laboured breathing. He has no fever and he's fine during the day. So I keep debating: do we take the half hour walk in the cold to the doctor or wait and see? We could try the bus, but in the time we spend waiting, I imagine we could walk it. A cab isn't an option, because both kids require car seats. I know other parents use cabs, but I don't see how that's even legal. I can't even make a decision on a doctor's appointment without worrying about being thrown in jail. This morning, we had a cereal explosion. Scooby Doo cereal with little marshmallow ghosties, all sopped in homo milk, were everywhere. While I rushed off to get towels, the baby knocked the rest of the milk onto the leather couch. The three of us are grouchy and exhausted, but I'm counting my blessings, partly because of this heartbreaking Salon article by Anne Mitchell. I can't hate the Kelsos
People are pigs and scums
It's a bug's life
 VILE AND VULGAR VERMIN: Insects have been stalking me. Since Thursday, I've had run-ins with everything from beetles to centipedes and it all began with a thermal coffee mug.
Last week at work I grabbed a box from a corner of the office to pack up a corporate thermal mug someone had ordered. I innocently placed the box on my desk and what do I see crawling up the side of it? A big fat brown beetle with antenna the length of my fingers. I screamed and even my boss came out of her office to see what had happened. When I got the nerve to look in the box again, it had evidently scurried away. I was unable to even sit at my desk the rest of the day as I had visions of it crawling up my pant leg. Yesterday afternoon, I noticed a bunch of dead fruit flies all over my stove. Any constant reader of this site will remember that fruit flies stalked me last summer. Needless to say, the discovery of these creatures chilled me to the bone. Upon closer inspection of the stove, I noticed the little bastards were also stuck all over the stove light. So I turned the light on and the next thing I spot is a big dead bloated housefly sitting in my beautiful, clean and freshly oiled cast iron frying pan. I threw the pan in the sink and reached in the drawer under the stove for a pot to boil water in. Crawling inside the pot was an eight-legged beast of the vilest nature - yes, I'm talking about a spider. I screamed, threw the pot in the sink, turned the hot water on full blast and boiled the arachnid. And don't try telling me poor little spider's are harmless - I've been bitten by them and spider bites are a lot more painful than most bug bites I've suffered from. This morning, one of the eight-legged beast's pals decided to seek revenge. There I was at 5:30 a.m., still trying to wake up in the shower while waves of warm water streamed all over my body. I reached for my shampoo, applied it, rinsed, poured conditioner on my hair, put my head back and opened my eyes. And there, in the corner on the ceiling was, of course, a big, black spider. I decided that if it just stayed put, I would quickly finish my shower and let it live. The moment the thought popped into my mind, down it dropped on its evil web. I screamed, jumped out of the bathtub soaking wet, grabbed a cup from the sink counter, filled it with water several times and proceeded to drown the nervy pest. As I walked downstairs a few minutes later to get a cup of coffee, it occurred to me that I was being pursued by insects. I was relieved that it was over for the moment though, or so I thought. My thermal coffee mug was in its usual spot on the kitchen counter, right beside the coffeemaker. I smiled as I thought of my first sip of the day, which is always quite pleasurable. After pouring a generous amount of cream in the mug, I filled the remainder with fresh, hot coffee. Just as I was about to put the lid on the mug, a colossal centipede floated to the top of the liquid. Obviously, I screamed, threw the vile liquid in the sink, turned the tap to hot and boiled yet another multi-legged creature in the kitchen sink. My first sip of the day would not be quite as pleasurable as I had imagined. Fortunately, I haven't encountered any more creepy crawlies today. And so, it all ended (I hope) with a thermal coffee mug.
thread worms on a string, keeps spiders in her pocket
 Music For Miscreants: I'll be taking over Mr. Mappy's Directional Wave radio this week, so check it out. Wednesday from 8-10 p.m. and Thursday from 3-5 p.m. EST.
Most of the selections are what used to be called "College Radio" back in my day (with a little new wave and punk thrown in). I think these days they call it Alternative. Alternative to what?
Do the Terrier Dance
  We're Hare Enthusiasts: Anyone with basic reading skills can determine this isn't a hate site. It's simply a weblog of two Canadian chicks. We rant, we rave. We crack a few jokes. Anyone who thinks otherwise is in serious need of a life.
We at WHE love babies, kittens and fuzzy bunnies. Okay, so maybe BeX doesn't like bunnies. In fact, she despises bunnies. And dogs. Little puppies even. The adorable Jack Russel terrier pictured here would probably make her stomach turn. But even if she doesn't like puppies, she loves the Terrier Song. Are these lyrics familiar to you?  Terriers are my very favourite breed If these lyrics aren't familar, you obviously aren't living in a Brucio World.
We'll always have Paris... now how do we get rid of her?
  Paris Hilton can eat my asshole. Who am I kidding? That skanky rich bitch would probably enjoy it. I'm so sick of her name gracing every bit of the spam in my Hotmail Inbox, advertising her numerous sex tapes.
Paris Hiltoon Stolen Home Movie below Hello! fonf Paris Hilton gone wild! ingxaco Fuck right off you drugged-up heiress! I caught the first few minutes of her show The Simple Life last night, and just watching her shop made me want to slowly cut off her fingers with a butter knife. There was something about the way she carelessly spent thousands of dollars on one item of fashionable crap that irked me to no end. Think of how many struggling families could live comfortably if this one vapid party girl were stuffed in a meat locker and her fortune given to charity.  And the video! It's so lame. I'm not a guy, but Paris really looks like a bad lay. She flits around the bed on all fours like a nervous poodle, and pushes her lover (Shannon Doherty's husband) out of the way to make sure she's on camera. I'm sure she's loving all the publicity.
For some reason, the promises of Paris porn are not so prevalent in my Yahoo box (heh, I said 'box'). I love Yahoo's new spam button for some reason (probably because it entails the least amount of clicking to get rid of mail); Hotmail has a new look and it sucks worse than a coked-up hotel heiress. I'm not going to upload the tape, but for those who are curious, click here for a bigger version of her stubbly cooch.
spitting in the wishing well
 Oh. My. God. Even I think these are too big. Speaking of big tits, Godfader finally has a fab layout that won't crash my shitty computer. Wait, I'm not saying Godfader is a big tit. You got that though, right? Anyway, I found these nudie bits through a link on his site called Orange Dungarees.
Does Burn Know? I'm not sure if E/N is dead or alive, but Burn's DE/NIED list is still kicking. It was there that I found Taiwon On's funky site, where she muses about R2D2 Underoos, the decked out bike she rode at the age of 11 and formatting her hard drive. * wink, wink * I like her site a lot and she seems like a neat girl and I want her to marry me. Oh wait. I'm a chick!  I Saw The Shit Out Of It: Bob Odenkirk alert! After much delay, The Ben Stiller Show should be available on DVD today, and it's about time. The cast of this short-lived Fox series of skits was made up of Stiller, Odenkirk, and (if you can still stomach them) Janeane Garofalo and Andy Dick. I guess it's generally a Mr. Show alert, since David Cross was a writer and made appearances on the show too. Because it was aired more than ten fucking years ago (1992) I barely remember anything, other than thinking it was funny. Thanks to modern day Internet technology, however, we have this info from Amazon.com:
In addition to the cast's uncanny impersonations (Stiller's Bono, Tom Cruise, Bruce Springsteen, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Bruce Willis, and Garofalo's Juliette Lewis), The Ben Stiller Show was home to a gallery of recurring characters--agent Michael Pheret, the No, No, No Guy--who, thankfully, SNL producer Lorne Michaels was not around to parlay into godawful films. The topical humor can't help but date some of the material (the show is a veritable Trivial Pursuit of pop culture references, from The Partridge Family to Beverly Hills 90210, but the brilliance of the writing and sheer abandon of the performances are still a joy to behold. --Donald Liebenson I always liked Janeane, but man she's been in some shitty movies. What is she doing these days anyway? The first time I saw her she was on Jon Stewart's old talk show, and did a bit making fun of slackers at the laundromat. It was funny and shameful, all at the same time.
Layout Addict
I can't stop doing layouts. It's amazing what one can accomplish when everyone in the house is suffering from some horrible virus. Have I mentioned the baby is walking like a fiend? Ana-Mia: We're getting a lot of hits to my anorexia and bulimia post, so I made a separate page for it.
damn you, sam!
 The Snot Runneth Over: Apparently my house is crawling with mean bad guys.
But this is a good thing. It means my son is definitely on the mend from his terrible cold. This morning, he grabbed his Spider-man motorcycle and a small coat hanger from Old Navy and pretended they were guns. "Mommy, I'm a policeman. You're a policeman. Daddy's a policeman. Baby's a policeman. Dog is a policeman. Becky's a policeman. And Mokie (BeX's cat) is a policeman too." He then pointed at the ceiling, shouted "Mean bad guy!" and proceeded to furiously shoot at an imaginary creep with supernatural powers. Yesterday, his day was spent zombied out on the couch, coughing up a lung or two, barely responding to offers of soup and juice. The cough is still there, but the the mean bad guys chasing after us are a good sign that he's getting better. I'm a liitle afraid to take a shower alone, though.
 Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang: Here comes the turkey. No, I don't think the bird Bush served up in Baghdad on Thanksgiving is included in its death toll, but I've added an Iraq Body Count counter to the site. I'd like to see one for soldiers as well. Soldiers on both sides.
This project aims to record single-mindedly and on a virtually real-time basis one key and immutable index of the fruits of war: the death toll of innocents. The full extent of this has often gone unnoticed until long after a war has ended, if at all. One reason is that reports of incidents where civilians have been killed are scattered in different news sources and spread over time: one or two killed here, a few dozen there, with only major incidents (such as the attack on the Al-Amariyah bomb shelter where hundreds of women, children and elderly were incinerated alive) being guaranteed headline coverage. The counter is in the 'extras' menu at the right.
We're purple again! For now, anyway. The kids and I have miserable colds (Damn you, Sam!!), so I've been futzing with layout in between wiping wee runny noses. The archive, message board, guestbook links are now along the top. While watching me work, my four-year-old son pointed to the picture below and asked, "What's his name?" "Michael Biehn," I replied. "Michael Biehn has boobs," he giggled. What a smart aleck. That's my boy.
 Wanted - One Man Slut: After trying to control Whe's two kids for about five minutes in her kitchen last night - I was serving ice cream to Mini-Whe and suddenly Baby-Whe had pulled the bowl out of Mini's hands and there was ice cream all over the floor - I've determined that I don't want children.
This decision was not made lightly. I've lived with Whe and her kids and my sister and my niece and as much as I truly love children, truth be told - at some point when dealing with them, they inevitably drive me insane. I've also determined that I don't need a boyfriend. I need sex on a regular basis, yes, but again, truth be told - at some point in dealing with a man, he inevitably drives me insane. I have witnessed the incredibly fucked-up relationships other people have with their significant others and when I dream of a possible happy future for myself, I am living blissfully alone in a high-rise condo with my cat. So basically, all I really need is a man to fuck my brains out two or three times a month, with no strings attached - any volunteers?
 Got your mother in a whirl: As I was singing along in the car to David Bowie's Rebel Rebel on the way home tonight, it occurred to me that the only reason I knew every single word of the song was because the Bay City Rollers did a version of it. Yes, I know that's sad.
Speaking of sad: I went up to see my parent's this weekend and got a speeding ticket - I was going 114 in an 80 km zone. It's only the second speeding ticket I've gotten in 15 years so I was pretty damn calm about it, considering. Of course, I'm not real calm about having to pay the $152 fine. As it turns out, I'm the only one of their children coming up north for xmas. My youngest sis, who lives with them, will be there, but I'm the only one of the three older kids who is willing to drive up there this year. My mother was in quite a whirl about it but seemed to appreciate me a little more this weekend. So my grandmother may hate me, but I'm looking golden to my parents at the moment.
Don't Say I Didn't Warn You: Some things just shouldn't be viewed at work. Where did the summer go? It's been snowing all morning. I've been wondering how I'm going to get downtown this winter with two kids and no car. Maybe, just maybe, the sidewalks here will be plowed all winter, but it's still tough pushing a stroller in a snowstorm. The baby is pretty small to go long distances in a sled, unless I can find one with a seatbelt harness. Or I could just duct-tape her to a toboggan. It'd work for Red Green.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. - John McCrae, 1915
On Thin Ice
 It's A Small World After All: Ever wonder how you can get yourself thin and beautiful like Lara Flynne Boyle or Kate Moss? Want to know how Brittany Murphy and Christina Ricci went from buxom to billfold-thin? Just do a Google search, and learn how to become anorexic.
Ana and Mia sites (pro anorexia and pro bulimia websites) are fairly prolific. Some try to restrict readers who are not already anorexic, but others give step-by-step "thinspiration" tips on how the novice can starve herself to perfection. Yahoo deletes these sites, but you can still find a host of other sites, message boards, cliques and webrings devoted to a "bones of beauty" lifestyle. The personal sites share common themes: lists of "safe" foods; weight charts; gloomy diary entries by depressive young women; and a section of pictures of skinny models and actresses called "Thinspiration" (which is where these photos came from). Forty Reasons ... Tips and tricks from a website called Starvation read like any sane parent's nightmare:  -dont avoid the kitchen. people will suspect something Tips for bulimics teach you different ways to induce vomiting, and the best foods to eat while binging. Eat foods like ice cream, milkshakes, soft stuff which is easier to come up. However, don't try purging citric fruits, raw vegetables, breads, hot and spicy foods since this might hurt a lot and you might not get everything up. Oh and be carreful with sharp foods like some cereals and chips since they can get stuck or cut your throat.. If you choose to eat these it's better to just exercise it off or fast but if you really feel you need to purge be sure to chew your food EXTRA well please.. You don't want to hurt yourself. Here's a comment by a 22-year-old woman left in one 15-year-old girl's guestbook: No offense, but if you weigh 145, you're not ana! I'm about your height, and have never weighed above 109. I've maintained a weight of 98 for 16 months now now. All I can say is, good luck! Good luck at what? Starving yourself to death? Way to be supportive.  Emaciated: The following is from a site by Lauren, who says she is now in recovery (this is not a picture of Lauren; it's one from her collection).
"i decided not to include an emaciated gallery on my site. first of all, i could hardly find any pictures that aren't already in every other emaciated gallery on the web. the picture above was one of the few that i found. i remember putting this picture on my old site without thinking anything of it, but when i saw it this time i felt so sad. i don't know how that could be inspirting to anyone, the picture looks so painful and hopeless. this is definately not something i want to promote. if anything, this picture is on my website to show the true pain of anorexia not as a lifestyle, but as a disorder. " - Lauren One site makes a distinction between anorexics and "rexies," a term of empowerment for those who see this disease as an accomplishment. I guess Calista Flockhart is a fun-loving rexie, while Karen Carpenter is a rotting-in-her-grave anorexic. "You may already know the difference between us rexies and anorexics! If u want sympathy for your "disease", you are anorexic. If you want respect and admiration for your lifestyle of choice, you are a rexie… Anorexics die. Rexies don't. Have we understood the difference? This site is for us rexies, who are proud of our accomplishments, and the accomplishments that lie ahead. we will never die." Wow, being a rexie is the key to eternal life. Who fucking knew? Reading through these websites has given me mixed feelings of pity and anger. Because I have children, it also makes me afraid. Should these sites be allowed?  I realize Yahoo is a big corporation concerned with protecting its ass, but in general I can't abide by censorship. Television, movies and magazines are filled with thin role models. These girls are simply sharing secrets on how to achieve the look that's being shoved down our throats. Since Yahoo is deleting sites, they are forced to become sneaky (just like they are with food) if they want to use a freeserver.
I can't help but wonder what message it's sending to these girls. I also think it's destroying an opportunity to learn what makes them tick.
I think these test results are bogus, man! Find Out If You Are John Stamos!
 I am Woman! There's nothing like getting up in the morning, deciding to do some cleaning and finding out your CD player isn't working. Fuck. I've got a Fisher 3-disc changer and it would not open or play any discs.
So what's a girl to do? Sit and cry? Smash her fists into the stereo (which, by the way, I did try but it didn't work)? Wait for a man to help? Hell NO! A smart girl decides to take matters into her own hands and try to fix it herself. After a fruitless search for the stereo remote control, I decided to use my old tactic, and actually read the manual. Luckily, I found it easily. It suggested I unplug the stereo and hit a reset button on the back for at least 20 seconds. I did just that, plugged it back in, let it reset itself then pushed the power button. Well holy shit, the disc changer was moving and seemed to be working. I threw in The Tragically Hip's Fully Completely and pressed play. And out comes the sweet sounds of: Watch the band through a bunch of dancers Quickly, follow the unknown With something more familiar. Quickly, something familiar Courage, my word It didn't come it doesn't matter I don't think I've ever enjoyed listening to The Tragically Hip more than I did this morning. I am woman, hear me roar!
Don't want to meet your daddy/Just want you in my Caddy: Our guestbook is starting to frighten me. "I haven't been this hard since Gore lost Florida. "
 Halloween Horror Show: I love watching horror movies around this time of year. A few of my favourites are Fright Night, The Omen, Poltergeist and A Nightmare On Elm Street. The latter two I haven't seen in years but I remember they scared the shit out of me when I was a teenager.
Unfortunately, these days, the real world is a horror show all on its own. Who needs a horror movie when every morning, CBC Radio wakes me up with news of yet another bomb in the Middle East exploding or another gun battle. This morning it was the bombing of a hotel full of U.S. "occupation" officials and the Red Cross headquarters in Baghdad. So far, the number of American and British soldiers killed in Iraq since the illegal war began increases daily: the total number of dead is 397, of that number 343 Americans, 50 British and four others (whatever that means) have died. Since May 1, when U.S. President George W. Bush declared that major combat operations in Iraq were over, a total of 226 military personnel have died. The number of civilian deaths is staggering. According to Iraq Body Count, at least 7,768 civilians have died this year as a result of the U.S. led war and occupation of Iraq. A note to Freddie and Jason - why bother fighting to defend your title when Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Rice and Powell (with a body count of at least 8,000 so far) have got you beat hands down?
The Sun Is Exploding!
Tired is me. Was woken by a midnight phone call not intended for me and couldn't really sleep the rest of the night. People who call you at midnight deserve to be slapped. The Earth has been put on a Solar Storm Alert. Apparently 10 billion tonnes of superhot gas is going to be speeding towards Earth and is expected to hit the atmosphere at approximately 3 p.m. Scientists have said to expect power outages and disruptions to cell phones and satellites. Oh joy. Not only that, there is more to come. Apparently they've spotted another storm on the sun that will also hit us in the next two weeks. The solar event today is one of the largest sunspot groups in years. It is 10 times larger than the surface of the Earth. Kinda scary. You know, if the world ends today, please just don't let me be at work when it happens. On the bright side, at least I'd finally get some sleep!
 Fuck The World: I've had a shitty week. It started with my grandmother being an old bitch again. My sister announced she was pregnant again Sunday at the family thanksgiving dinner (held at my brother's place this year) and my grandmother had to say to me "When are you finally going to have a baby? Not that I'm longing for a baby or anything, she just has to make me feel guilty for simply not having one, because it's what she wants.
As my grandmother was leaving, she turned to my brother's girlfriend (who'd cooked the potatoes and ham, I did turkey and stuffing, so we had split the cooking) and said "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for all the trouble you went to with this dinner. You did a great job." I was standing right beside his girlfriend and my grandmother didn't even look at me or say goodbye to me. Fucking old bitch. My rotbag week continued with brutal, horrible menstrual cramps on Monday. The drive into work every morning has been shitty and double the time it usually takes. My boss continues to be a bitch and I get to be the recipient of her bad moods. Have I mentioned that life sucks? Have I mentioned the world sucks? Well it fucking does. Oh and if you're reading this, so do you!
 Speaking of Neil Young... One Young song which often gets stuck in my brain is Out On The Weekend. Packing up and running away to start a new life; this is a strong theme with me. My recurring nightmares involve an inability to escape.
It's weird that I'm still having these nightmares, even more so now that I've moved into my first house. Am I trapped between a need for security and a lust for adventure? Or am I still still stuck in the mindset of my earlier years when I felt the need to slip the surly bonds of my parents? These nightmares hark back to when I returned to my family home after my mom was diagnosed to cancer. I was torn between wanting to stay and help, and needing to run away and never turn back. I left a couple of months after she died, but the memory haunts me still. Why won't my brain let me escape? Think I'll pack it in and buy a pick-up Take it down to L.A. Find a place to call my own and try to fix up. Start a brand new day. The woman I'm thinking of, she loved me all up But I'm so down today She's so fine, she's in my mind. I hear her callin'. See the lonely boy, out on the weekend Trying to make it pay. Can't relate to joy, he tries to speak and Can't begin to say. She got pictures on the wall, they make me look up From her big brass bed. Now I'm running down the road trying to stay up Somewhere in her head. The woman I'm thinking of, she loved me all up But I'm so down today She's so fine she's in my mind. I hear her callin'. See the lonely boy, out on the weekend Trying to make it pay. Can't relate to joy, he tries to speak and Can't begin to say.
Meet Our New Leader
 Dalton McGuinty is the Premier Designate of Ontario. It's been eight long years of brutal "Progressive" Conservative rule in this province but that all ended tonight as Mr. McGuinty and his Liberal Party swept the seats and will form a majority government in the provincial legislature. At last count, out of 103 total seats, the results were: Liberals 72; PC 24 and NDP 7. Eight years of tax breaks for the rich - gone! Eight years of hospitals closing due to lack of provincial funding - gone! Eight years of cut backs to education - gone! Eight years of union bashing - gone! Eight years of a bunch of elite fat cats running our government - gone! If my damn jaw didn't ache so bad (and I wasn't on prescription drugs right now) I'd not only have the energy to write much more about this, I'd also probably be partying my ass off! As it is, I'm still going to go to bed with a big smile on my swelled up face. Good luck Mr. McGuinty and do us proud!
Damn you Neil Young! That damn man (even though I worship him) always seems to make me cry. Due to the brutal day I had today, this song moved me to tears when I heard it. Neil Young Sailing heart-ships thru broken harbors Out on the waves in the night Still the searcher must ride the dark horse Racing alone in his fright. Tell me why, tell me why Is it hard to make arrangements with yourself, When you're old enough to repay but young enough to sell? Tell me lies later, come and see me I'll be around for a while. I am lonely but you can free me All in the way that you smile Tell me why, tell me why Is it hard to make arrangements with yourself, When you're old enough to repay but young enough to sell? Tell me why, tell me why Tell me why, tell me why
mood:  tyrannical
 License2KimJongill: Tho not-so secret online diaries of North Korean leader Kim Jong-il can be found on Live Journal. I'd always imagined him as more of a "Moveable Type" kinda guy. At the very least, he should be using those little kitty cat kao anis to depict his daily moods.
You should set up an independent state called "Pontiac Firebird". Other links: Kim Jong Il's North Korea Fan Club! BBC profile. Speaking of Live Journal, is this boy pretty or what? I'd kill for those cheekbones.
Yeah Baby - YEAH!
 Our friend Blarx has seen fit to immortalize me in some cool artwork on his website. I'm right between Leatherface and the very recently deceased John Ritter and I'm lovin' every minute of it! Whe is afraid my head is going to explode.
The "mod" picture of me was taken when I was in college and was used for a feature in our school newspaper about second hand clothes. I think the outfit was purchased at the Salvation Army and the boots belonged to Whe. That picture always reminds me of an incident with a creepy guy who lived around the corner who had a huge crush on me. In a moment of insanity one summer night, I actually invited the guy over to sit on my parent's porch and have a drink with me. I was bored and thought, "Hell, I'll throw the guy a bone." It turned out he went to the same college I did but attended a different campus because suddenly he started talking about a fashion picture he'd seen of me in the school paper and that he'd kept it. Of course I imagined him sitting alone in his room masturbating with that picture. I remember shuddering and making up some excuse to get rid of him. When I think back on it now though, who could blame him? I was really hot when I was in college! *Head explodes* In other news: Our domain name We Hate Everyone.com was finally renewed.
The following is a response to BeX's post below
They should provide trauma counselling for Wal-Mart shoppers. My last time there was October 25, 2002 and I vowed to never return to get groped by the dregs of society in that crowded hellhole. I'll never forget that date, as it marked when Wal-Mart greeters began checking carts for shoplifted items instead of making shoppers feel welcome; when staff had no knowledge of the store's stock and just shrugged over my request for a diaper wipe warmer; when fellow (adult) shoppers heartlessly ran over my three-year-old son with their carts as he attempted to find a Scooby Doo Hallowe'en costume. Okay, the real reason I remember the date is because my daughter was only two days old and got lots of oohs and ahs, BUT STILL! It was a degrading experience. Dave hates Wal-Mart too.
Walmart Sucks
I thought I'd get out of the house for an hour or two today. I was cooped up all day yesterday writing a book I started about six months ago. I hadn't been to the local Walmart yet since I'd moved so I figured, what the hell, I need a phone card, I may as well check it out. Well shit, what a mistake - it stressed me out so bad I wanted to scream the entire time. I think there must have been at least a million people in there, that's how it felt to me anyway. I swear to god every single time I moved some fucker was standing in my way or nearly running me over with a cart. I'd brought a long list of things I needed to get while I was out and ended up only buying three or four things. The entire time I was in Walmart, all I could think about was getting the hell out. On another note, corn season is now ruined for me again. Whilst looking through husks of corn at the local IGA grocery store this afternoon, I found one with a live, wriggling worm inside. I threw it back into the bin, shuddered and decided against corn for dinner tonight. This had happened to me a few years ago while shucking a cob of corn at my ex-boyfriend's place. I was unable to eat corn on the cob again for months. So much for getting out of the house, I'm thinking of becoming a hermit.
Conserve
 Every single day on the news the top story is: Today is the big test - we could run out of power - conserve your energy and water. The Ontario government is freaking people out, saying if we go over a certain limit, we're going to have rolling blackouts. I'm wondering if the government is just trying to save money or if we really could run out of electricity. Since you can't trust politicians, who knows what is truth and what is fiction.
Despite our disdain for Ernie Eves et al, my brother and I are doing our part: we haven't turned on the air conditioning once since the blackout, only one light is allowed on in the house at any time, we haven't used the stove, we're not flushing the toilet every time we use it (implementing the if it's brown flush it down, if it's yellow, let it mellow rule, yuck) and we're washing our clothes in cold water and hanging them throughout the house to dry. In other words, we're living like a couple of hillbilly's. It's working out well though and we're pretty sure we're conserving more power than most Ontarians. On Friday morning, when we were still 12 hours away from getting our own power back, our sister called to tell us her electricity had come on at 4 a.m. Friday and that she and her husband had the air conditioner running. "How can you do that when your brother and sister still have no power at all?" I asked her. "Well, we have a two-year-old," was her reply. Fucking energy hogging bastards. According to the Independent Electricity Marketer, as of 11 a.m., the Ontario demand for electricity was 18,020 MW. Our available supply for the day: 21,743 megawatts. Wish us luck...
Down and out for 28 Hours
First thought in my head when the power went out at 4:12 p.m. EST on August 14th was some grid in the office building I work in must have crashed. Two minutes after it happened my brother, who works for the railroad, called and said: "So you're power's out, right?" I said "How do you know that?" He replied with: "Because it's out in the entire province." That's when I knew this wasn't a tiny annoying little power outage. Word started trickling in that power was out in New York, Michigan and as far as Ohio. It was pretty damn scary. I called Whe to make sure they were all OK and told Mini-Whe I couldn't get home because the lights weren't working. He started crying. I felt so awful. I hung around the office until about 6 p.m. because, looking out the window, one could see that traffic was an absolute disaster. When I finally decided to leave, with my pal Redfehu, we filled our water bottles, checked the level on my gas tank (half a tank, a good thing) and headed out. I got her home by 7:30 and got myself home to Oshawa by 8 p.m. First thing I did was call Mini-Whe to tell him I was home. His response: "YAY!" Suddenly, I realized I only had 13 cigarettes and $10 cash so I went for a quick drive up the street on the hunt for smokes. All the stores were closed. I started smoking half a cigarette at a time. Our neighbours, who own a camper, had a generator with the TV running and also had extra cigarettes. They generously gave me a couple, a can of Pepsi to mix with a bit of rye my brother and I had in the cupboard and barbecued hot dogs for us for dinner. They were awesome. As I tried to sleep, the light of the waning moon poured through my bedroom window, I could see Mars to the right of it, glowing brightly. I knelt on the floor in front of the window, arms on the sill, wondering what the next day would bring. At 6:30 a.m. I could hear my brother outside talking to the neighbours - I looked at my alarm clock, no light was flashing - meaning no power. I yell good morning to them out the window. Our neighbour is making us coffee on his gas stove. I'm told the premiere of the province has declared a state of emergency and all non-essential workers are to stay home - best news I could possibly hear - so we've all got the day off work to sit around and ponder what went wrong and when will it go right again. Much of the day many of us were walking around in a powerless fog. Not only was there no power on, but most people felt powerless to do anything about it. My brother and I drove around looking for cigarettes and gas (a local variety store owner let us give him an IOU for the former, thank god but the lineups for gas were too long), he finally found a bank machine so we managed to get propane for the barbecue, canned goods, bottles of water and yes, more cigarettes! A friend of his called later in the day, offering us a 40 ouncer of rye - we accepted it, of course! By 7 p.m. Friday, we were resigned to another day, or even another week without power - it felt like it was never coming back on - and were barbecuing the rest of the steak and chicken in our freezers. At about 8 o'clock, my brother and I were in the kitchen and we hear our next door neighbour yell "We've got power!" I slammed my hand across our light switch and on it went. Everyone was on their front porches yelling "Woo Hoo!" and giving the thumbs up. What a relief. So there we were with chicken, steak, pepsi, gingerale and a 40 ouncer of rye in our cupboard there was only one thing left to do - make some ice and start drinking heavily. During any type of emergency, not only do you take stock of what you have in your cupboards, you take stock of who and what is really important to you. I realized after all this that I have gained not only a greater appreciation of my brother and my neighbours but I've gained an even greater love of one other thing - cigarettes - I will never be caught shorthanded again!
Telus Mobility Can Kiss My Ass
 Upon awakening on Saturday morning I went through my usual routine: stumble downstairs to turn the coffee on, stumble back up the stairs to take a shower, dry off, pour coffee (with double cream, no sugar), light up smoke and turn on cell phone. After a couple of minutes, I wonder why I don't hear the usual beeping sound when my phone powers up, so I pick it up off the coffee table and all I see on the screen is a frozen hourglass. What the hell? I bought the damn phone less than three months ago so I was kind of surprised. I call their "client care" line and I'm told I'll need to get it repaired. Fuck. What a pain in the ass.
On Sunday I go to the Telus store, show them that my phone is frozen, take out my proof of purchase and I'm told they'll send it for repair but there's a $25 "fee" I have to pay. "But I have a warranty," I explain. "Whether or not you do, there is a $25 fee," the cashier re-iterates. Some warranty. Some service. What a piece of shit company Telus is. Then she asks me if I need a loaner phone as it will take 3-4 weeks to repair my phone. Well yes of course I'd like a loaner phone. "OK," she says. "We need a $75 deposit." Great, so I'm forced to shell out another $75 because I'm a Telus customer. Some warranty. Some service. What a piece of shit company Telus is. Later on in the evening, I dial a number on my lesser-quality loaner phone and get the message "This phone is not activated." ASSHOLES. So I try calling client care and I get the message "We're sorry, Telus Client Care is not available at the moment." What a piece of shit company Telus is. An hour or two later I try client care again and this time I actually get to speak to someone, whereby I am told they have no record of my bringing my phone in for repair and they had no idea I was using a loaner phone. "You people are well worth the $25 service fee," I told the guy, who had the personality of a gnat. Eventually, I get the phone activated. How long it will last before it breaks down is anyone's guess. You know, it just occurred to me that maybe my brain waves fucked up the phone, seeing as I'm a Slider. No matter what the cause, one fact remains - What a piece of shit company Telus is.
I Like Pee:
 Here's a Sarah Silverman bit, brought to you by our friends David and Bob:
You're Terminated - Fucker!
 Being a Terminator junkie (I've seen the original at least 50 times), it's difficult to express how disillusioned and disappointed I felt 12 years ago as I left a movie theatre after watching Terminator 2: Judgement Day. All I kept thinking was: "OK, so if it doesn't happen, if Sara Connor and her son John stopped the end of the world and Judgement Day from happening, how can John Connor still exist? How could Kyle Reese have gone back in time and fathered him? Granted, it is a good movie, the outcome just frustrated the hell out of me. I've heard mixed reviews of the latest chapter in the Terminator saga, Terminator 3: Rise of The Machines - people seem to love it or hate it. After seeing it on the weekend, I admit I'm in the "love" camp. It was filled with tons of excellent special effects, a good amount of suspense and decent acting but above all Terminator 3 does exactly what it should do - it pulls all three Terminator stories together. Ten years have gone by since John Connor (played in this film by Nick Stahl) helped prevent Judgment Day and save mankind from a nuclear holocaust. Now 22 years old, Connor has kept himself "off the grid" - he has no home, no credit cards, no cell phone and is unemployed. He has made sure there is absolutely no record of his current existence. He can't chance being traced by Skynet - the highly developed network of machines that tried to kill him twice - before he was born and when he was a 12 year old boy. "All my life my mother told me the storm was coming, Judgment Day, the beginning of the war between man and machines. Three billion lives were vanished in an instant and I would lead what was left of the human race to ultimate victory. It hasn’t happened, no bombs fell, computers didn’t take control, we stopped Judgment Day...I’ve erased all connections to the past but as hard as I try I can’t erase my dreams, my nightmares. I feel the weight of the future baring down on me, a future I don’t want. So I keep running as fast as I can. Anywhere, nowhere..." Then, out of the future steps the T-X (Kristanna Loken), Skynet's most sophisticated cyborg killing machine ever, sent back through time to complete the job left unfinished by her predecessor, the T-1000. Connor's only friends are the Terminator (ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER), his mysterious former assassin and Kate Brewster (Claire Danes), someone he knew as a child who he seems fated to face the future with. Together, they have to escape the clutches of the technologically superior T-X and stop the looming threat of Judgment Day...or face the apocalypse and the fall of civilization as we know it. It's unfortunate they had to kill off Linda Hamilton's Sara Connor character (according to the story, she had died three years after the second movie) but the screenplay (written by John Brancato, Michael Ferris and Tedi Sarafian) is still fairly strong without her. And unlike the ending of Terminator 2, the conclusion of T3 is extremely satisfying and leaves the viewer with a lot to think about. It also opens the door to a Terminator 4 movie - looks like Arnold will "be back".
 (Sung angrily to the tune of House of The Rising Sun) There is a house in Scarborough They call it the 'Rising Fly' And it's been the ruin of many a young sick girl Oh God, I wanted to die My brother volunteered me To help him look after my grandma and her pup We were going to spend the night with her Then the son-of-a-bitch doesn't even show up Now the only thing I really needed Was a suitcase and a can of Raid And I tried to kill as many flies as I could But they were all determined to stay Oh, Mother tell your children That they will likely cry If they agree to spend a night in misery In the House of the Rising Fly With one foot in the kitchen And the other foot in the living room I tried to avoid the infestation But should have accepted the doom Well there is a house in Scarborough They call the 'Rising Fly' And it's been the ruin of many a young sick girl Oh God, I wanted to die
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