The Cheeseblog

Last night I was coming home in the car and the sun had just set so the street was not quite dark. A few cars straggled home, but mostly the road was empty. I rolled down my window and flipped around on the radio until I found something that wasn’t Matchbox 20 or a commercial. I got to one station just as they started to play Papa Was a Rolling Stone. Totally transported. I moved. I grooved. (as a side note on the stupid English language, what’s up with “moved” and “grooved”? Surely the language planners could have forseen that people would use the two words together. “moved” and “groved” would be so much more esthetically pleasing.) It was one of those moments where you know you’ve heard a song before but maybe you never really heard it, maaaaan. It was so sweet, the gro(o)ve so deep.

It was then I realized: I am living a music-free life. No! Look at it! In the morning, there is the alarm, which is music, but I turn it off faster than Emeril can Bam! Then there is CBC AM with RICK CLUFF and his motley crew, where you pray they do not play music as it is usually a joke song about hockey or a choir of homeless puppies singing “O Canada” in French.

At work, I might hear: opera in the food fair, sports radio in various peoples’ offices or Hava Nagila from the work cell phone of the man who sits across from me. That’s it. I Enjoy The Silence and the occasional rustle of paper and hum of photocopier. No wonder I am humming that tune, Spanish Flea? all the time. I am a Music Lover. I am an honourary member of Lawrence Welk’s Muuusikal Faaamily. Damn, G. Need some tunes!

Thankfully, it is almost a very long weekend. I will listen to lots of music on my very long weekend. Might even have to get myself some Papa…

In other news

I just killed a spider. I apologize to the universe as, though I do not like spiders very much, I try not to kill them because I believe they do good in the world. This one was crawling across the kitchen floor and in my attempt to trap him in a coffee mug and free him in the sprightly spring morning, he made a sudden movement beneath the mug and I squooshed him.

I’m sorry Mr. Spider Dude.

So, how does “This is Wonderland” rate a season finale when it only had 5 episodes? Yeah, I watched 10 minutes of one of them. It stunk like skunk bum.

I wish I had seen this site yesterday. I’d’ve taped DaVinci & gone blotto with the Junos…

…like this guy:

CANADA ROCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
UPSETS : EVERTYTHING NICKELBACK ,LOST
FANS CHIOCE : SHANIA HAS MORE FANS, N.B. WON !!!!!!!!!!!!!11
RUSH IN RIO, WON DVD OF THE YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111
SAM KICKED ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111
WHAT A SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111A
CANADA WINS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Rush in Rio. Damn.

Dear Googler 1: Sorry, but I have no drunk leperchaun flash here.

AND Mr or Ms Googler 2: If you have a fishbone in your throat, I mean, Holy! I agree that Google is awesome! But it cannot help you if you are choking.

I am currently amused by: the look my catt gets on his face right before jumping up on my lap while I’m sitting at my desk. There’s little reason for him to be apprehensive (except for his lingering insecurities from pre-our house) I mean, I only ever toss him back to the floor when I’m eating because otherwise he gets catt hair in my food. Ew. The rest of the time, I am more than happy to entertain him as a guest on my lap. But still, every time he plans to jump, he first sits on the floor and stares at me for a few minutes. Then he gets this look, like he’s about to bungee jump for the first time or ask his girlfriend to marry him. His eyes get all wide and his ears flatten back and his little lips set firmly and he’s thinking this is it. now or never. whatever happens after this, it was worth it and then he jumps and turns around in my lap and goes to sleep.

In other news: the VCR is not quite dead. In the last few weeks, sometimes when you rewind, it will refuse, spit the tape out and flash “1” on the display. You then have to get up, turn the power back on, pop the tape back in and carry on. This morning, it did this routine but flashed “2” on the display. Then it bit down hard on the tape inside and refused to free it. Luckily we have a screwdriver. And the VCR will live to tape all the things it is set to tape today. Huzzah.

Full moon to-nite.

That’s the reason the shoes don’t fit. That’s the reason that guy in the big blue truck nearly t-boned you even though there was no one else at the intersection. That’s the reason there’s a song on the radio called “no panties on the dancefloor.”

One time I went out dancing and the pair of underwear I had been wearing the last time I wore those particular jeans fell out my pantleg onto the dance floor. They had been crammed up in the leg all night long, waiting for their chance to fall out. It was embarrassing but not as embarrassing as the time I was drunk, relieving myself by the side of the road (Georgia St. as it turns out), lost my balance and fell on my face. Yup, that was worse.

Acronyms. I always thought acronyms existed so that we could make cumbersome words cute. If the cumbersome words don’t shorten to a cute word, well, there’s no point in acronymizing them. Ugly is ugly.

How wrong I was. How young, how hopeful and how wrong.

The company I am working for loves acronyms with a passion I am certain is dangerous and must have its own entry in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). They acronym their departments, their job titles and all their many Forms in all their many forms. After ten (10) days working there, I believe they will acronym me and I am sort of okay with that, because I’m cute. But none of their acronyms is cute. IPT. HECS. WHA. Really, WHA.

So I think there should be a new rule in the world. This new rule should state: Any long, cumbersome collection of words (LCCW) can be acronymied to a shorter collection of words (SCCW) provided that the SCCW is cuter than the alternate method of expressing the LCCW.

For example, Long, cumbersome collection of words could also be shortened to: Locuco words. That’s cute. Or you could say: Cucumber. That’s about as easy to learn as an acronym. Yeah, it’s kind of subjective. But I will take responsibility for enforcing the new rule. I don’t mind.

I’m not as bitter as I was last Wednesday, when, after three days of trying to understand the language people were speaking around me it has to be English – doesn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’s not French. Those are the two official languages of Canada. Oh and Psychlo. But that wouldn’t happen here, would it? Ack! Now I’ve missed another crucial sentence! Nod. Smile. Drink coffee. Smile. Mouth closed: don’t let them see the coffee stains on your teeth. I was ready to tattoo F.U.C and K on my knuckles and wait for someone to ask what it stood for. But today I used three acronyms in a row and, in that way you feel proud when you do something you just learned and you’re not quite sure if you’re using it right ( Did you ask the HECS about the IPT?) I felt quite a warm glow when the person with whom I thought I was communicating indicated to me that yes, in fact, I had successfully expressed what I had hoped to express.

I’m sure my pal brevity will be back with us in a few days. She’s just gone for a soda.

Overheard on the skytrain today:

I’m going to the arts centre this weekend.
Oh? What’s going on there?
It’s a peace-flag making workshop.
Really! Then you can watch the tap dancing, too!