Crazy E-mails

As you can see, I am more than qualified for the position.

2007-02-06T03:05:22Z

There I was on the subway on a cold wintry morn, doing my French exercises in my sunny yellow notebook - or un cahier, if you prefer. The train was at Davisville station. The sunlight reflected off the dusty white snow particles blowing across my window and I was glad that we still had some semblance of winter left. A woman sat down next to me and I did not give another thought to her until she spoke.

"That's amazing," said she and I looked up. She was smiling. My natural reaction was to smile back, so I did.

She continued, "Your writing, it's so legible. How can you write so neatly when the subway is jostling you?"

I shrugged, because I couldn't think of anything witty to say.

"You should be a jet pilot! Have a nice day!" She got off the train at Rosedale station.

This has inspired me, friends. My new dream is to be a jet pilot. After all, I've got the whole writing in motion thing pat down. Learning to fly a plane should be a snap! *giggle*

Mini Crazy E-mail: Hire me as your Happy Go Crazy Consultant!

2007-01-03T21:15:50Z

I provide outstanding results for super duper ultra mega happy employees!

Try my Siesta at Work program!

It has been proven that there's a significant decline in productivity in the afternoon, due to employees hitting a mental crash.1 This leads to poor concentration, procrastination and restlessness in the workplace. My Siesta at Work program is guaranteed to give your employees much-needed rest that will help them become the motivated, energized and efficient workers your company needs!2 The Siesta at Work program takes only 90 minutes a day and your employees will love you for it!

The Siesta at Work program works as follows:

At 1:50pm, soft relaxing music (current favourite is our Brahms Beddy-Bye selection) is played over the office's P.A. system as a non-verbal cue for the employees to take out their hammocks/inflatable mattresses/sleeping bags. At 2:00pm, the doors are locked, phones are turned off and the lights are dimmed to prevent any interruption of sleep cycles. At 2:10pm, the music dies down. Sleeping masks, earplugs and nose strips are available.3

At 3:20, the dawn simulator is activated and quiet but uplifting music is played, allowing employees to wake during the shallowest part of their sleep cycle. The volume is gradually turned up and by 3:30, everyone should be awake. For those having trouble emerging from their sleep cycle, a Personal Wake Up! service is available.4 All employees are given a refreshing glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a Wake Up! Facial Massage.5 After five minutes of Wake Up! Calisthenics, everyone is ready to go back to work, feeling better than ever!

Call now and get a free demonstration of the Siesta at Work program!

1. This may not actually have been proven.
2. This is not actually a guarantee.
3. If possible, a separate room may be set aside for employees who are inclined to emit disruptive nasal sounds while asleep.
4. The Personal Wake Up! service consists of the Happy Go Crazy Consultant poking you with a Nerf Arrow. In extreme cases, the Happy Go Crazy Consultant will shoot you with Nerf Arrows using her Nerf Bow.
5. The Wake Up! Facial Massage consists of the Happy Go Crazy Consultant gently tapping your face with gel gloves that have been in a freezer for 2 hours for that special "Argh, you're giving me frostbite!" sensation.

Mini Crazy E-mail: Colourful drinks and way too much food

2006-12-30T07:07:24Z

"Yes, she's charismatic, has small hands and feet and talks like a girl. She's scary."

That's my mum talking about me to her friend over the phone. I found it amusing that she emphasized the last part. I hope those aren't the only good points my mom finds in me, because that's a somewhat eclectic list.

Ah~ So to add to Bryan's recap of Jennifer's cocktail party.

I was in a dreadful hurry. I was on my way to St. Andrews station when I noticed that my cellphone was beeping. Jennifer had left voicemail on my phone asking me to print up a few copies of poker hand rules for some activity that she had planned for the evening.

I know. I don't know either. I don't ask, I merely do my best to comply.

So I went home and managed to print up a copy of the said rules while brushing my teeth, changing my clothes and wielding a lint brush all at the same time. Oh, and I also called Kevin who needed a ride to Jenn's. I went down to my garage and found that I had left my cellphone in my room. I drove the car up to the lobby and went back up to fetch the phone. I went to the elevator and found that I had my phone, but not my keys. I went back to my condo to fetch my keys and this time, I made sure I had EVERYTHING before I left the condo. What a day.

As I drove to Kevin's condo, I called Jenn to ask if she still neeed the poker rules and she said no. While she was on the phone with me, Debbie must have walked in, because Jennifer suddenly called out, "Oh hey, Judes!" Apparently she thinks our voices sound the same, but I think Debbie's voice is obviously nicer.

Anyhoo, I picked up Kevin in front of his condo and we listened to Bond theme songs on our way to Jenn's. Gold-finguh! If you need cheering up or need some excellent night-time driving music, James Bond is for you. I once picked up my brother in Newmarket at 2 in the morning. Driving fast on 404 at night while listening to James Bond is fantastic.

Debbie opened the door for us and we said hi to Bryan, Kayla, Matt and Jon. As predicted, Bryan and Kayla were the first to get there. Robert and I have a rule about inviting Bryan to a gathering: tell him that the party starts 30 minutes later than what you have planned; for everyone else, 30 minutes earlier than what you have planned. That way, everyone arrives more or less at the same time.

As usual, Jennifer had way too much food. I knew this would happen. She told me on Wednesday about some etiquette rule that says you should have 6 appetizers for each guest and I wondered for a second if she really planned to have 90 different appetizers for the cocktail party, but laughed it off as being ridiculous. And she didn't, but still there was a lot of food. Everything was delicious, especially the sushi. Nyum nyum.

I know that the whole champagne punch thing will be forever a part of "Oh, that silly Judy" repertoire. It's like Daniel Steinberg and his "What's a post?". It can't be forgotten. 25 years from now, I'll be sipping a glass of champagne at some function or other, like Jennifer and Jon's anniversary or something and one of you will walk by and say, "Is that your first one?" or "Go easy on the champagne, Judes!" Thank goodness it doesn't bother me. I hope that when you see a bowl of champagne punch, you'll think of me, just like how seaweed, juice, mangoes and fist-shaking rants remind you of me.

At least I know what a bloody post is.

Around 8:30, I walked into the kitchen where Jennifer and Debbie were fiddling around with dishes of food and said, "Mind if I use your phone, Debs?" thus extending the Judy-Debbie identity crisis to include Jennifer as well. I called Robert, who was looking up Jennifer's phone number on Canada 411 to find her address at the moment.

Jenn: Tell him to hurry up! We're going to do blowjobs!
Judy: Jenn says to hurry, because she's giving blowjobs.
Robert: [long pause] I'm going to pretend that I heard that wrong...

I gave him directions to the house and we all got ready with our blowjob shooters (kahlua, amaretto, whipped cream). At that point, the doorbell rang and Robert walked in.

Jennifer: Oh here, Robert, you can have my blowjob. I'll get another one.

And the bad jokes went on and on. I know, we're very mature. We would have to be, to enjoy jokes like that.

After the blowjob shooters, we sat in the living room and talked about oh, Jewish marriage contracts, circumcision, high school teachers, university teachers, stupid people in the workplace, knitting, graduate school, people with cucumbers in unlikely places, why people don't use other vegetables in unlikely places ("Why not zucchinis? It's round at the end!"), all the while Jennifer reminding us that there was more food to be consumed.

Someone: Why isn't Shaun here?
Jennifer: He's sick with the flu.
Judy: I don't think I've ever seen him sick.
Jennifer: His mom had to take him to the doctor. That's how bad it is.
Brian: How do you know he's not on a booty call?
Judy: No no no, if it was a booty call, he would say it was a booty call.
Brian: Oh yeah, and then he would come back afterwards and tell us about it.
Robert: Wait a minute, you mean he travelled in Europe for months, slept with countless women he's never met before and then came back to Canada to catch the flu?
[Everyone laughs.]

It doesn't mean we're lacking in sympathy, because we did miss Shaun (and Shoshy and Veejay). It does show that we know Shaun quite well.

And so it went on with the apple martini, the raspberry champagne punch, the Shirley Temple and the Blue... Okay, I can't remember the name of the last drink. Not the Blue Lagoon. Blue...Bay? Sea? Ocean? Lake? Pond? River? Stream? Spring? Some body of water.

All in all, it was a lovely party and it was the very last holiday gathering held at Jenn's parents'. I hope the tradition will continue at her new place in 2007 and it'll be a Jennifer & Jon thing! (Oh, my weepy eyes!) For some reason, almost everyone always makes it to Jennifer's parties. It lets me catch up with everyone. Thanks for putting so much time and energy into the parties, Jenn! I always have so much fun!

Hope you guys have an awesome end of year. Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Festivus and all! That! Jazz~~~~!

2006-12-26T18:53:26Z

Slurp.
Sluuuurrp.
Slur-slurr-sluuurrururp.

Good Boxing Day to ye, my friends. I hope you had sense enough to stay home this day. Even from my 9th floor window, I can see the crazed eyes of shoppers in their cars, driving from one mall to another in desperate search of bargains. Is it really worth the hassle to buy crap at half price? I haven't stirred outside all day. In fact, I'm still in my robe. Come to think of it, I think I need a shower.

I shall sit here, in my robe and my hair in a bun, and slurp at this mug of tea. Slurp.

Does it worry you that it hasn't snowed yet and that it is not likely to occur before the new year? It worries me. This is unnatural. Is it El Nino all over again? I remember people making a huge fuss back when we were still in high school about El Nino eventually destroying humans by messing up all of earth's currents and creating massive hurricanes. I'm sure there were other horror stories but I can't remember them. Something about frogs falling from the sky and blood weeping from the walls.

Maybe I should take a nap. Or maybe I should take a shower and take a nap.

This post isn't very interesting, I know. My mind is in a peculiar daze and from experience, I know that this means that I'm going into Elvish sleep and what's the point of Elvish sleep when I'm at home and can take a real nap, I ask you.

Sleep. I need sleep like a zombie needs brains. Sleeeep~~ Sleeeeeeeep~

Global Orgasm Day is December 22, 2006!

2006-12-05T03:17:45Z

I think the subject line says it all.

Visit the website: http://www.globalorgasm.org/

And...er...have fun! Be responsible!
Judes.

My cousin is getting married in 19 days.

2006-11-29T03:07:41Z

Okay, so this isn't news news. I've known it for months, but I think it's finally starting to dawn on me that HyunChul, who used to have the four of us (him, his sister, my brother, me) lie down under a colourful square quilt so that we could pretend to be astronauts pressing buttons on our "control panel" 17 years ago, is getting married.

Mind you, he's four years older than me and is more than ready to make that kind of commitment. Why am I feeling so teary? I shopped for a fancy shmancy handmade wedding card and expensive pressed-flower stationery without a single sniffle. I wrote a cheeky letter of congratulations for him and his bride-to-be without bursting into tears. I talked to him last night on Messenger (a rare occurrence) without melting into a puddle of sentimental goo, so why? Why now?

He and his sister are my favourite cousins (out of 40 something!). My brother and I have always been closer to our paternal cousins (?) and since HyunChul and HyunA lived closest to us, we always played together on holidays. Whenever we went to Korea, we stayed at their house (and they stayed with us when they came here to study on student visas). We didn't even have to ask. It was like a given. "Of course you're staying here! Why would you want to go anywhere else?" We love them.

Now he's getting married and we're sending our dad instead of going ourselves to congratulate him in person. He's getting married and I'm going to have a sister-in-law that I've never even met and omigod, I hope they make each other happy. They will be happy, won't they? They better.

*sniffle break*

Last night, he told me his fiancee's name (MiSung Seo), how they met, how long they've been dating. He said he was sorry that I couldn't come. He promised to send me a picture of them soon.

PS: Is this what I'm going to be like at Jenn's wedding? A puddle of runny mascara with poofy hair? Good grief.

These are a few of my favourite things (that begin with B)!

2006-11-27T05:27:30Z

linden_tree has assigned me the letter B for my list of things that I love best. Here goes!

1) Beeswax candle: There's something oddly calming about a candle. Right now, I'm burning a candle that Jennifer gave me about 7 years ago. She made it by rolling a sheet of beeswax. I was saving it for a special day, but today I was in a stay-at-home-and-watch-a-candle mood. I love watching it slowly melt and drip. I love how the end of the wick glows a bright orange. I have a set of tiny beeswax candles that Victoria made for me. They look like sushi rolls, a dollop of wasabi and a cluster of ginger. I love them. I don't think I'll ever be able to light those. I wish I had some old-fashioned candlesticks or a candle holder.

2) Bond, James Bond: Everyone knows about my interest in that suave secret spy. The moment I first saw him in Goldeneye, I was his. I coaxed my friends to form WSS, I read the Fleming books, I watched whatever Bond movies I could find. I even wrote an essay on him in university! At times, I was downtrodden by the awful things that they made him do (The Man with the Golden Gun? WHY???!!!), but it could never make me completely turn away from him. I was secretly hoping for the day when the Bond that I loved would come back. Casino Royale (the movie, not the book, brrr...) gave me hope again. Is he my ideal man? Well, I don't know. His worldliness and suavity might be appealing, but intimidating at the same time. It would be like falling in love with Aragorn. Sure he's cool, but at the end of the day, what can you talk about and build your relationship on?

3) Black pen: I like to write all my letters with inky black pens. I don't like how ballpens sometimes fizzle when you write too quickly with them. I like to imagine that I'm writing letters in the old-fashioned way with a quill and pot of ink. Since neither of those things are readily available, I must make do with thick inky black pens.

4) Biographies: The biographies I read are usually about European queens. I guess it all started with Marie Antoinette. It was interesting that these women were the first ladies of their courts, but were so bound by etiquette (and prejudice) that they didn't have the kind of power that one imagines. They had to use their feminine wiles to manipulate the men around them. They had to endure humiliating battles with their husbands' mistresses. Some even overthrew their husbands to take power for themselves. I'm slowly building up my collection of biographies. Right now I have Cleopatra, Isabella of England, Henry VIII's wives, Elizabeth and Marie Antoinette. I still have to get Boadicea, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Mary I, Mary Queen of Scots and Catherine the Great. I think Mary Stuart was a bit of a twit, but oh well.

5) Blue mascara: You can tell that I'm already running out of things to list when I write about a cosmetic product. Still, I do like blue mascara. You can't really tell the difference on my black lashes, but it gives a bit of a subtle glint to my eyes.

6) Bok choy: I can't explain why I love this vegetable so much. It's like a miniature lettuce! I just love how it's crunchy and soft at the same time when it's cooked. Love it!

7) Banana: I have to have it just so or I won't eat it. I'm very picky that way. It has to be completely yellow without any brown spots. It's okay if it still has greenish spots on it. Mmm~ banana.

8) Blanchett, Cate: I can honestly say that I love all her movies (the ones that I saw anyway). It's amazing how consistently good she is in all her performances. How she manages to transform herself from a brooding queen to a carefree housewife and back to an ethereal elf is beyond me. I just love her and her beautiful skin. Her name is so pretty too!

9) Bicycle Repair Man!: This is a skit from the first season of Monty Python's Flying Circus that I like very much, but not many people seem to remember it. It's like a parody of Superman, only inverted. Basically, everyone in the world is a Supermen, but they can't handle a simple thing like a bicycle breaking down. You have to see it to get the full effect:

It also doesn't hurt that Bicycle Repair Man is played by my favourite Python, Michael Palin. "Is it a stockbroker? Is it a quantity surveyor? Is it a church warden? No! It's Bicycle Repair Man!"

10) Bento boxes: Okay, I've really run out of things to list. I like how you get a little bit of everything in the meal. I had a donkatsu (breaded pork cutlet) bento on Friday. It came with soup, salad, two dumplings and rice? Also, the compartments in the box are really cool. It reminds me of the lunchboxes my family used to take on picnics.

I think I should go to bed now, but this was a lot of fun!

Mini Crazy E-mail: A most interesting turn of events

2006-11-27T03:44:04Z

Behold: a couplet. Yes, a couplet by a most reluctant poet - me.

Aunt Judy is most wise
Knows what's best, chews on pies

That's right, my darlings. Sarcasm pies. I throw them at people. Unfortunately, most people are completely oblivious, which sucks all the fun out of throwing them in the first place.

Consider:
[Three weeks ago at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory]
Derek: Okay guys, I'm going to HMV to borrow some CDs for the store.
Jessica: Oh hey, Derek. Can you, like, get...something GOOD this time?
Judy: NO. He's going to get something TOTALLY CRAPPY.
Derek: HAHAHAHAHA!
Jessica: Huh...Ha....hahaha...

See? *fwip* The pie flew right over her head, only grazing her unkempt hair with its whipped cream topping instead of landing solidly in her face. I mean, for heaven's sake, it wasn't even clever sarcasm. Anyway, who cares? She got canned after three days of work. I swear, I had nothing to do with it. I might have said something about how one can see a rusty calculator kaching-kaching in her head through her vapid eyeballs. I most certainly did not say anything about her B.O. but it's not like it's hard to miss. Ahem. *cackle*

Again and again I am forced to conclude that this world is full of idiots. Whenever I feel tempted to actually like (translation: be able to talk to them without wanting to gouge out my eyes) a group of people, another wave of dumbasses crashes onto me. I was stopped at a traffic light last night on my way home. A car pulled up next to mine and it honked at me. I looked over and the passenger motioned me to roll my window down. I noticed that the driver was shaking his head and smiling, so I ignored both of them. He honked again, so I rolled it down.

Man: Do you live around here?
Judy: Why?
Man: I need directions.
Judy: Where are you going?
Man: To your house.

Oh the sparkling wit! I was dazzled by its light! I rolled up my window, gave them a "Immature jerkwad!" smile and drove off.

I know it's a joke. If people want to indulge in stupid little pickup lines like that, they're free to do whatever infantile things they fancy. But what if I were a psycho? I mean, a real psycho. The kind that likes to peel off people's skins and make suits out of them. The whole situation could have gone in a whole different direction, since it seems to me that they're the type of people who WOULD follow some strange woman if she told them to. It would have been the simplest thing to say in a coquettish voice to follow in the car, take them to a house, tie them up and keep them alive for weeks by cutting off their various body parts and feeding it to them (eyeball jello, yum...). And that's just off the top of my non-psychotic head.

People. They just don't think.

What have I been up to lately? Well, I started my TESL course, which will let me teach ESL to people who come to Toronto on student visas. It's a step up from tutoring children, who have little appreciation for one's efforts at educating THEM. The class is small (15 people) and the teacher has the dry British humour I like so much. I'm one of the youngest people in the class. Everyone else has had so much more life experience and I'm just a fresh (well, relatively so) graduate who's waiting to apply to professional schools. Anyway, everyone's nice and we all get along and I have no complaints. Almost. *cough*

Well, on Friday, the whole class went out to lunch together at a Korean restaurant near the school and I explained the items on the menu to them. It's not like it's difficult to understand it when the menu has perfectly good English descriptions of each dish. One of my classmates ordered "Clam, seafood with noodle in soup". When you order "Clam, seafood with noodle in soup", you gotta figure that:
1) It's gonna have clam
2) It's gonna have seafood
3) It's gonna have noodle
4) It's gonna have soup
What is so bloody difficult? If you're picky about what you eat, then why not pay attention to the other dishes on the menu or tell me specifically what you like to eat so I can suggest something to you? When he got the dish, he made a big fuss about how it wasn't what he expected.

O_O???!!!

Well, it was his own bloody fault and other people gave him dumplings and salads from their own bento boxes. After we left, he kept complaining about how he was starving and how we should have proper food next time. It was annoying but at the same time, I didn't really care, because if a man who is at least 15 years older than me can act no better than a spoiled little child, I just can't be bothered. Everyone else enjoyed their food and it wasn't even my idea to go to the restaurant together in the first place! The school just happens to be in Koreatown.

"What did you expect?" an exasperated classmate wanted to know.

Pasta. He was expecting pasta! From a Korean restaurant. When the menu clearly said "noodle soup". *brain fizzes out*

Then he said something incomprehensible about how he promised himself NOT to be adventurous with food, but he did it anyway and the whole experience reconfirmed his decision. Yeah, whatever. I'll just sit here rolling my eyes in a not so discreet manner.

I wonder if Debbie's assingned me a letter for "10 Things I Like That Begin with __" yet.

Anyway...I'm going to drink some tea!

Mini Crazy E-mail: Sh sh shhhhh~ I can't even look at you.

2006-10-22T00:49:19Z

As you well know, I have been quite devoted to working at the chocolate store for the past oh, 6.5 months, during which time I have had little time or incentive to write. Since most of you have experienced the horror that is retail, why should I bore you with my little annoyances or, heaven forbid, remind you of your own? However, I will soon be leaving the chocolate store and there are quite a few questions that I have been posed during my stay at the Chocolate Factory (of which I have become obsessively protective) and I must answer them here, since it is obvious that I cannot actually say these things to a customer, no matter how much fiendish pleasure I may get from their dumbfounded reactions. It would just make me so-!

All of the following are actual questions from customers.

1) Why aren't you 500 pounds? (It's always 500. No more, no less.)
Just because I work in a chocolate store, it doesn't mean I have full liberty to gorge on anything I want all day long. It is a workplace and we won't make much profit if all the workers do nothing but eat up the goods, will we? And how much chocolate do you think one can eat before one dies of hyperglycemia, hmm? How much chocolate do you think I would have to eat to gain 300-something pounds? Don't you think I would notice if I gained, say, ten pounds and think to myself, "Hmm, I should probably stop eating so much chocolate, specifically because I don't want to be 500 pounds and spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair because I have trouble breathing or moving my legs"??? Why am I not 500 pounds? Because I have some bloody self restraint, that's why! What kind of an arsehead question is that, you stick insect who spends 3 hours at the gym everyday to look like Jack Skellington?

2) Is this fudge? (Yes.) Is it, like, really fudgey?
I was waiting for this moment. I knew that I had somehow managed to avoid profound stupidity of the Westmount variety for a long time and that one of these days I would be subject to it again. And here it is: Is fudge (like) really fudgey? I can't even make fun of this. It goes into semantics and all that complicated stuff and I was never educated for that.

3) Is this stuff fresh?
NO. I'm going to sell you the stalest stuff that we have. You have NOOOOOO IDEA! I was saving this 2 year-old box of chocolates just for you and placed it on the shelf right before you came by, because I was gunning for you, see. We sell only stale products here! Nothing but old expired crap! Because that's how you make money! By selling decidedly unfresh, old, decaying, rotting, disgusting stuff! Eat it! Eat it! Come, let me shove it in your face, down your throat! Feel the dusty mush moving through your bowels, you fool! EAT THE BLOODY CHOCOLATE!

4) Do you bake cakes here?
Do you see an oven here? We barely have room to move around and make chocolate products, let alone bake cakes, cookies, biscottis, bread, croissants, bagels, brownies and other BAKED GOODS. NO BAKED STUFF. This is a chocolate store. There are two BAKERIES just down the hall. Go bother them.

5) Where's the dark chocolate?
In the showcase, do you see the dark brown lumps next to the white and the light brown? That's dark chocolate. (I was so aggravated that day that the automatic censor in my head went out to take a break and I actually said this.)

6) Do you have white chocolate? (Yes.) Where is it?
Anything that's white is white chocolate.

7) Can you put this sample apple piece into the box with the chocolates?
What kind of a cheapskate puts samples, let alone a moist apple slice, into a gift box of chocolates? It's a GIFT BOX! Who gives samples as gifts? Do you not know what happens to chocolate when it gets wet? It dissolves into goo. I should just put this apple into the box so that your girlfriend realizes what a dumbass you are and dumps you because you're too stupid to know that apples turn brown when cut and chocolates go bad when wet. You stupid stupid man.

8) Do you have any testers?
Not for you, you slimy hag! Stop strutting around the store with your friend pretending you're a regular when we know you’ve never bought anything in your life. PISS OFF.

9) These chocolate flowers look waxy. (Not a question, but still annoying, because what do they expect me to say to that?)
Listen, you're not even BUYING these chocolate flowers, which look "waxy" in the first place because the chocolate mould makes them shiny. You're not even buying ANY chocolates! Your friend is the one actually spending her money, so I don't give a crap what you think about the chocolate flowers. If you have nothing good to say, then shut up. You don't see me criticizing things pointlessly. For instance, you have hair like Elaine from Seinfeld in the earlier episodes with "the wall". Who has hair like that anymore? It's not the eighties or even early nineties. And your friend has the most hideous bag I've ever seen. It's like green hairs sprouting from electric pink plastic-y nipples of the devil. Who in their right mind buys such a purse and carries it around proudly? Who lets their friend tote it around on a regular basis? You're a bad friend. A bad friend with bad hair and no right to say anything about our chocolates, so go home and frizz up that hair even more, lady, and maybe it will swallow your stupid tactless brain.

10) How do your chocolates come?
Okay, I'm just going to ignore the horrible grammar. Chocolates are put into containers, you see, which allows for easy storage. We have paper bags and boxes, but if you keep talking incorrectly, you're going to carry home the chocolates in your hands. Good day.

I am weary. I will diminish and go into the West and remain Lady Jutea, Bitter Nut.

PS: I am quitting in November and plan on including this entry in the Unofficial Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Guide, my - shall we say - legacy.

Mini Crazy E-mail - I cut my leg.

2006-08-13T01:54:40Z

Dear friends,

I realize that all of us at some point accidentally hurt ourselves and compared to most, I have been blessed with a nearly injury-free life. Take Jennifer for instance (ah, she who will forever be a vital part of Crazy E-mails as a source of insanity and fun). In the almost ten years I have known her, she has:
1) fallen down the stairs
2) walked into walls
3) walked into doors
4) gotten bonked on the head with a soaking wet nerf football that was heavy enough to give her a minor concussion
5) had boxes of picture frames fall on top of her
6) burned herself numerous times while cooking
7) cut herself with the velcro strap of her lunchbag

So my subject line, however dramatic it may be, will not be something that will cause massive panic among you, who are already used to hyperbole and overblown account of events. And you are right! And I am merely clickety-clackety-ing away to make this e-mail longer, but what does it matter? Are you doing anything at the moment? No? Then shaddup.

I cut my leg.

You see, I was closing up the chocolate store yesterday evening after many hours of dipping milkbones in candy (strictly for dogs) and tying countless ribbons on countless chocolate teddy bears, maple leaf suckers and apples (I really think I should get paid for advertising). I locked one side of the long foldy barrier thing which covers the entrance to the inner sanctum of the shop and I went around to the outer part of the shop where the staff closet is located. I got all my stuff and before locking up the other side, looked back to make sure everything was okay and that I could leave, when I saw that the light in the chocolate showcase was still on.

I don't have keys to the store, because I only close and one doesn't need keys for that. I thought about leaving the light on. And then I realized that it was the weekend and that it would waste a lot of electricity. But how to get to the inner part of the store without opening the door?

Over the counter like a common burglar.

There is a stepladder in the closet that we use to access cupboards high above the shelves. I propped it up against the counter, after moving all the items that could actually be moved out of the way (gift baskets, stapler). That only gave me a 15cm gap between the ice cream freezer and the cash register. I climbed the ladder, stepped gingerly on the 15cm gap with my left foot and leaped over the counter.

I didn't twist my ankle upon landing, which was good. I turned off the showcase light and then had to ponder my escape. I could pull a chair to the counter to step over to the other side, but how would I put the chair back to its original location? I thought to myself, "Hey, I'm flexible enough to make one giant step to the top of the counter! Why bother with a chair! Thank goodness no one's here to look up my skirt." and followed through. At some point in this er, follow-through, I cut my leg and jumped down the other side of the counter. It stung a little, but I thought it was just a scratch. I put away the stepladder, replaced all the baskets on the counter, gathered up all my things, locked the door and left.

I noticed the cut only after I sat down on the subway. It was bleeding a little, but not at all serious.

So this Mini Crazy E-mail isn't about how I cut my leg at all. It's about how I leapt over counters in a dark store moronically and chose to tell you about it in a typically melodramatic fashion.

Ooga booga!
Ta~! Judes.

Crazy E-mail – Judy and the Chocolate Factory

2006-07-12T03:27:52Z

***~A Study of the Working Stiff Chick Literature Genre~***

I was feeling hassled, annoyed and entirely bored with this argument, which had started only 30 seconds before. “You paid for one double scoop. Unless you pay for two single scoops of ice cream, I can’t give you another cup.”

The woman pouted and I wondered for a split second if her boyfriend – who had abandoned her in our shop to go look at vegetables or whatever at Kitchen Table – found behaviour more befitting a petulant five year-old attractive in a person in her early thirties. I also wondered if that made him a pseudo-pedophile, but banished the thought, as it was distracting me from the uncomfortable situation at hand.

“I bought a double scoop! I just want another cup!”

I replied as calmly as I could, “If I give you another cup, I have to charge it as two separate scoops of ice cream. That’s our policy.” Oh how I love that word. It is a pronouncement of finality like a judge’s gavel pounding down or a monarch’s wave of dismissal. “I have made my decision and there can be no more discussion. Abide by it or begone!”

She – oh, woe is me! – didn’t give up. “I don’t understand what the difference is!” and I called her a liar, liar, pants on fire in my head. We both knew perfectly well what the difference was (a paltry $1.30) and I was now determined not to give in purely out of spite.

“Ma’am,” – another word that I loved to use as an insult to spoiled women who can spend hundreds of dollars on pedicures but scrimp over a cup of ice cream – “I cannot give you another cup.” With that retort, I turned and walked away to the opposite end of the store so that I could roll my eyes in relative privacy.

Working at the chocolate store wasn’t bad, for retail. Making chocolate-dipped strawberries is infinitely better than say, working at a clothing store for commission or ringing in groceries all day. It was very fun to explain the complexity of a candy apple: “That, monsieur, is our Avalanche Monster Apple. We pick the freshest, greenest Granny Smith apples from the orchards of exotic New Zealand and dip them in chewy caramel made by hand right here in the store. It is allowed to dry for exactly 75 seconds before we cover it with a mixture of white chocolate (also made from scratch by our cooks who have been trained in the Belgian tradition), peanut butter and rice krispies. But that’s not all! The apple is then rolled in mini marshmallows and white chocolate chips to give it an almost ethereal appearance. As a final touch, it is drizzled with milk chocolate to give it an accent of colour. The result, monsieur, is a decadent dessert with the right combination of sourness, sweetness and crunchiness that will melt your brain in an orgasm of deliciousness.”

Okay, so we usually had time to say no more than “whitechocolatepeanutbutterricekrispiesmarshmallowschocolatechips!” as people passed by the sample tray during their short lunch breaks, but I liked to imagine that I was a snooty waitress at an upscale restaurant, unnecessarily explaining the finer points of a dish that most people just wanted to scarf down because they were so hungry by the time the rambling finished and the food arrived.

It was fun, on the whole, but not being an Oompa Loompa (and certainly not having Johnny Depp for a boss), I was rather disappointed by the first job my university degree had gotten me. I didn’t have enough work experience to land a job related to my field, but I was also overqualified for any job that could give me the sort of experience I needed. I was not alone in such a predicament, but it did not stop me from complaining most bitterly about the unfairness of the world and everyone in it. All I could do was crawl ever so slowly toward my real goal of…okay, so I didn’t have a definite goal. Let us say…the goal of being financially independent.

Days went by, one after another and I got to know the chocoholics of First Canadian Place. First there was the Fudge Lady, who bought two pieces of fudge every week (sometimes twice a week) saying little more than a quiet “Thank you”. The Sale Fudge Lady was a tall dour woman who bought fudge only when it was on sale at half price. She was the manager at La Vie En Rose, which always made me somewhat reluctant to go in there to buy anything. The girls at the chocolate store told me that she was actually nice at her own store, but that only proved to me what retail can do to ordinary people. There’s nothing like retail, job hunt, school and living with one’s parents to make one cynical about life. It makes one so weary of serving others that one can’t be bothered to be nice outside of one’s workplace. At the other end of the personality spectrum was the No Sugar Mogul Guy. We were always happy to see him and his toothy grin when he came by a few times a week to buy cashews covered in caramel and chocolate and ask about our day. My favourite regulars were the Fox and the Bear. The Fox, so named because of his pointed face and lean build, bought two pieces of dark chocolate almond cluster. His friend, the Bear, bought milk chocolate almonds. They usually showed up around lunchtime, talking animatedly about some business maneuver, which I’m sure I will never understand.

The Caramel Guy, formerly known as the Caramel and Hedgehog Guy, was the only customer whose name was actually known to us (Jason). He used to buy caramel nuts and a milk hedgehog everyday, but cut down on the latter because he “didn’t need the calories”. One day, he stopped coming altogether and everyone at the store was shocked. Was he sick? Was he away? Had the daily chocolate binge overloaded his system like that CSI episode when a poker player eats a pound of chocolate everyday and dies from adverse effects of eyedrops in his drink on the lead accumulated in his blood? One day, I just blurted out, “I bet Caramel Guy’s cheating on us with that hussy, Laura Secord!”

The girls agreed, “How could he do that to us when we have a history together!”

“That bastard!”

In truth, he had probably decided that he didn’t need the calories from the caramel nuts. Either that or he looked at his Visa bill and realized that spending $5 five days a week on sweets wasn’t the greatest idea. The thought that he could give up chocolate so easily was heartbreaking to everyone and perhaps it was just easier for us to believe that he was still indulging himself, even if it was somewhere else.

~~~***~~*~***~*~~***~~~

A typical chick lit book (see “The Devil Wears Prada” and “The Nanny Diaries”) starts off in such a fashion and is usually about a young girl who has just graduated from university. An annoying situation taking place at one’s workplace is presented to catch the readers’ eye and is then followed by a brief rambling about how the job is beneath her qualifications. Blah blah blah yak yak yak, I need a better job.

~~~***~~*~***~*~~***~~~

On Friday, I saw The Box Office (the musical for which Kevin composed the score, if you haven’t gotten all the e-mails) with Robert, Debbie, Adam, Kevin’s music friends and a gazillion of Kevin’s relatives (I kid you not) at the Tarragon Theatre. It was wonderful! So cute! So…aw crap, I just realized that I forgot to ask Kevin for the MP3’s of the show. Hopefully he’ll send them to me before he goes to Hawaii next week (lucky bum!).
There are still three showtimes left for The Box Office, so try your best to go see it!

Anyhoo, after the show, Kevin went to a party with the cast. The Westmount group (saying that makes me smile) wandered off in search of food. At Spadina and Dupont, we found a restaurant called Live Organic Food Bar. Adam was iffy about going in; for one thing, he wasn’t sure what “organic” meant and the thought of entering a vegan restaurant was causing pain to his carnivorous soul. We went in and looked through the menu, which sounded appetizing enough. Debbie ordered a drink with bee pollen (what makes it different from regular flower pollen, I do not know), Robert got something called tiger milk (?) and I got kombucha, which is supposedly an ancient Korean brew. Strange, I’ve never heard of it.

Digression:
I just looked up kombucha very quickly and it tells me that no clinical studies have shown it to have medicinal properties, while Korean sites boast that it prevents cancer. But then, Koreans would probably eat cockroaches if they think it will give them “stamina” (if you know what I mean, and I think you do). Wikipedia says “A review of the published science on Kombucha found that it may cause liver damage and one Kombucha drinker has died.” O_O;;

Debbie had some sort of veggie wrap thingy, which she thought looked like condoms. Robert had vegan pizza and salad. Adam and I had Buddha bowls (rice soaked in soy sauce, tofu rolled in coconut and bok choy). I think it’s safe to say that Robert, Adam and I won’t be going vegan anytime soon, as much as we enjoyed the salads and rice.

We walked over to Casa Loma, since it was just a few minutes away by foot and wandered around the front gates. Debbie decided she wanted to go into the fountain and asked me to join her, which I did, after rolling up my shorts. The water was pleasantly cool and not slimy, like one would expect. I was about to take a picture of Debbie’s face glowing from the fountain light when the water went off. We thought maybe the guards were coming to yell at us for going in the fountain, so we scrambled out, dried our legs and scampered off home.

~~~***~~*~***~*~~***~~~

Ahem! Coming soon!

Foodietales: Titanic!

Here is the tentative cast, which is subject to change, because I haven’t seen the movie in a long while and can’t remember all the characters and their names.

Narrators – Linda the Strawberry and Judy the Pepper
Rose – Matt the Bagel
Jack – Adam the Avocado
Rose’s mother – Brenda the Peach
Rose’s fiancé – Shaun the String Bean
Rose’s fiancé’s henchman – Bryan the Lemon
Engineer – Kevin the Potato
Captain – Robert the Jumbo Grape
Jack’s friend – Josh the Kiwi
Socialite Lady played by Kathy Bates – Jennifer the Cheese
Ship owner – Jon the Cracker
Old Rose – Shoshy the Cherry
Archaeologist played by Bill Paxton – Debbie the Grape
Guy who sees iceberg – Judy the Pepper
Coal shovel leader guy – Brian the Cherry

We have Matt, Adam, Shaun and Shoshy in the lead for the very first time! Hooray~!

Now I gotta watch the damn thing so I can make fun of it properly. Wish me luck!

Ta~! Judes.

PS: Sorry for the incredibly late Crazy E-mail.

Crazy E-mail - A Tribute to My Mum

2006-03-18T00:55:36Z

Dear friends,

My mom is coming back home tonight after seven weeks of well-deserved vacation in South Korea. I’m so excited. I’m constantly trying to figure out where her plane might be. “Let’s see, she still has 11 hours left in her flight, which means she should be smack dab over the Pacific Ocean someplace…”

You forget just how important someone is in your life until she is gone.

In the days before my mom left, my brother and I were in a celebratory mood. My brother was planning on eating whatever junk food he could get his hands on. I secretly plotted to throw away things that my mother had been hoarding for reasons that can’t be explained. Both of us made a pact to be as lax in housecleaning methods as we dared (vacuuming once every two weeks). We also made a list of things we wanted my mum to bring back from Korea. (Our family is a band of expert smugglers; my brother participated in his first job at the tender age of 8.)

The first couple of weeks were swell. I was in charge of the kitchen and Dasol took care of the laundry. My father drifted in and out absentmindedly making suggestions/criticisms/unrelated outbursts.

I went grocery shopping, which I love to do. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from picking out tomatoes or a nice head of broccoli. Anyway, having printed out some recipes that looked yummy and doable, I thought myself prepared for the weeks ahead. Chicken rice jubilee with mushroom gravy! Sure, I accidentally bought chicken hindquarters instead of chicken breast, but what is a small setback like that to a determined person like me? I chopped up the ingredients and then, it was time for the handling of raw chicken. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of the box full of disposable gloves in the bottom kitchen drawer, but I decided to use my bare hands after washing them thoroughly with scalding water. *shudder* That slimy sensation will haunt me for the rest of my life, but the chicken was ready! Yay!
In hindsight, I suppose I should have used non-sticky rice. By the time I came back from four hours of tutoring that night, my creation had been turned into some sort of gooey grey-brown rice cake with chicken bits embedded here and there.

Dasol: Did you taste it before you left for tutoring?
Judy: No, I didn’t have time.
Dasol: It was…ah…interesting.
Judy: Interesting.
Dasol: Not good.
Judy: Ah.

The chicken jubilee was unceremoniously dumped down the garbage chute. I was undaunted by this failure. After all, it was only one of eight recipes I wanted to try! Next on my ambitious list was garden vegetable soup. It was a chance to prove that we could still eat healthily without my mum around. It looked good. It smelled good. It had a nice thick consistency.

Alas, it was bland. Not just “Hmm, needs salt” bland, either. More of a “You just blended together steamed vegetables and then dumped it in hot cream, didn’t you?” type of bland. My brother wisely pleaded off and went out to dinner with his friends. My dad said it was okay, but this is a man who makes the most unholy combinations of food for consumption while the rest of the family looks on in horror, so I had my doubts, understandably.
I gave some to Robert. “All it needs is seasoning. Really!” I didn’t ask if he ate all of the contents in the small Tupperware container. I sincerely hope not.

That was it for me. I threw out the recipes and cleaned out the fridge. Ari suggested that I just fool around with vegetables and see what happens. The result: tofu teriyaki. The sauce was a little runny, but it was edible! It tasted okay! My brother grumbled about there being too much tofu, but no one complained about the taste! I almost cried from joy.

Unfortunately, one cannot eat only tofu teriyaki for weeks on end. So I made pasta from time to time and bought roast chicken and pizza. Oh, we also bought instant noodle (ramen). Lots and LOTS of instant noodle. My brother loves instant noodles and scoffs whenever anyone tells him not to eat it so often because it’s unhealthy. Last week, he staggered into my bedroom in the middle of the afternoon:

Dasol: Noona (older sister), I’m getting sick of ramen.
Judy: I remember you proclaiming once that you would eat ramen everyday if we let you.
Dasol: Too much of a good thing. Four days in a row!
Judy: I’m sick of it too.
Dasol: Don’t tell mom or dad.
Judy: I’m hungry.

I’m okay with eating whatever I can find, so I was naturally annoyed at having to feed two grown men with healthy appetites who can’t be bothered to make something on their own.

I didn’t mean to turn this e-mail into some kind of Desperate Housewives episode (does anyone watch that anymore?). The point is, I miss my mummy. And decent food. The importance of decent food should not be discounted. No, indeed!

But even more than the food, I miss my mum’s sense of humour. Dasol thinks I’m just pointlessly wacky and I’m careful not to show any signs of silliness around my father. My mom is a lot like me, actually. She writes crazy e-mails to people (individually, instead of in a huge group like ours) and still keeps in touch with her high school and university friends. It’s like I could have everything my mom wanted for herself but didn’t get either because of misunderstandings or the restraints of the “real world”. Does that make sense? I’m glad she’s coming back.

My mom e-mailed me, suggesting that I make chicken rice porridge for dinner tonight. I love her, but the woman is clearly delusional.

Ta~! Judy.

PS: Naturally, I don’t expect responses to this sentimental e-mail about my mommy compared to the recent threads about body parts.
PPS: Miss you all lots!

Mini Crazy E-mail - The Double Standard

2006-03-18T00:53:07Z

Dear friends,

Jerry: Well, I was walking around naked in front of Melissa the other day--
Elaine: Whoa! Walking around naked? Ahh... that is not a good look for a man.
George: Why not? It's a good look for a woman.
Elaine: Well, the female body is a... work of art. The male body is
utilitarian, it's for gettin' around, like a jeep.
Jerry: So you don't think it's attractive?
Elaine: It's hideous. The hair, the... the lumpiness. It's simian.
George: Well, some women like it.
Elaine: Hmm. Sickies.

-Seinfeld: The Apology

I'm glad to be getting so many responses. I knew I would, given the - apparently - scandalous topic of the previous e-mail. See? People DO find breasts fascinating! I like how Jon wanted to know if he could comment and when he found out that he COULD, he didn't write anything.
The general consensus seems to be that size doesn't really matter and a natural woman is beautiful. Hooray! I am very glad that people (in our group, at least) are sensible.

Someone pointed out to me, "Oddly, I don't think there'd be as much response, even from the female parties, if I sent an e-mail discussing my penis."

The question is WHY NOT?

How come one body part that prompts naughty thoughts in one's brain is easier to talk about (and admire) than another? They're both sensitive (the latter probably more so) and essential to pleasure, but people are cautious of talking about male appendages.

It's not even an issue of size or whatever. Why is there such a double standard? Is it a matter of form? Modesty (embarrassment)? Prudery? Not wanting to seem like a pervert? We talked about tatas. Are we perverts? I say no.

I understand this e-mail is rather flawed. Part One was easy. I have tatas. I've had them for ten years now (more or less), which allows me to ramble on about them without much difficulty. I'm stumped in this case.

I wonder, will I get any responses to this e-mail? I'm not asking for opinions on size or anything like that. If there aren't any, it will simply prove that there is a double standard when it comes to these things, but we won't know why.

Think about it and let everyone know!
The possible topic for Part Three is Pornography (as per request).
Ta~! Judes.

Mini Crazy E-mail - They're just lobes of adipose tissue!

2006-03-10T22:22:49Z

Dear friends,

Do your lobes hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?
Do you throw them o'er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your lobes hang low?

-First sung by Brian Gerskup in Westmount Cafeteria

People have said that my Crazy E-mails don't lend themselves much to commenting, but I have chosen a topic today that should make you sit up and take notice: lobes. Debbie's guys. Brenda's mountains. My galaxies. (I don't know if Jenn, Linda and Shoshy named theirs or not, but everyone knows they have them.)

Awhile ago, I saw a strip of "Between Friends" in the newspaper in which the main character, Susan, wished that she had C-cup breasts. I won't write down the girls' sizes here, because I don't want to be strangled to death with a pushup bra, but all of us except for Shoshy are smaller than that. (If I have offended anyone by unintentionally implying that their tatas are anything less than spectacular, I humbly, deeply and passionately apologize.)

Come to think of it, I never even thought about my modest lobes until this conversation with Brenda.

Brenda: So then, out of nowhere, she says "You have a nice rack!" I was like, "Thanks!"
[Or was it "boobs"? I can't remember.]
Judy: It's true. You do have a nice rack.
Brenda: Yours are nice.
Judy: I think they're a bit small.
Brenda: No...B, right?
Judy: No...
Brenda: No?
Judy: ...
Brenda: Well, you look like a B!

So you can understand why I felt inadequate when this comic strip character wanted a cup size that was way WAY beyond my reach. But they're just lobes! Adipose tissue gathered into pleasant globular shapes on the upper torso! Adipose! All this fascination and self-consciousness and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and thoughts of SURGERY over what? These???

Look at them! They're insane! INSANE! Bless Shoshy and her natural tatas, but these are ridiculously fake and GROSS!

*calm down*

I wanted to see what C-cup breasts would look like, so I stuffed my bra with socks. Socks, of course, aren't the most convincing of implants, but they sure were handy.

NO, I DID NOT TAKE PICTURES AND NO, I WILL NOT TAKE PICTURES AND SEND THEM TO YOU NOW OR EVER!

After three pairs of thick cotton socks, I couldn't see my toes. They're too insane to even consider. I have enough trouble maneuvering my girls around. If they were any bigger, how would I sleep? They would either compress my lungs (if I were on my back) or be a damned annoyance (if I wanted to sleep face down).

I like my Milky Way and Andromeda. Am I compensating for their size by naming them after the biggest things in the universe (next to the universe itself)? I have my reasons (The names are just so cool, no?). I think we should all appreciate Vesuvius, Ruapehu, Chester, Mike, etc. for what they are.

They're spectacular, darlings.

Another ridiculous e-mail completed! =P
Ta~! Judy.

Another book entry!

2006-03-03T03:00:39Z

What? The Pythons: Autobiography by The Pythons

Who? Bob McCabe who put together materials from various interviews with members of Monty Python's Flying Circus.

When? Published in 2003.

Where? In bed or in the car, waiting for my brother to come out from taekwondo classes.

How'd I get it? From Chapters.

Why? I'd been drooling over the hardcover version for some months, but it was too big and bulky to be handled by my tiny hands. I kept coming back to Chapters every so often to look at it and pick it up and oscillate between the shelves and the checkout counter. Then a few weeks ago, I saw that the smaller softcover version was finally out and I knew that it had to be mine then and there.

Length? 351 pages. Took me 10 days to read (February 20~March 2, 2006). 10 days seems to be the average nowadays?

First Bit: The late George Harrison used to say that he felt the spirit of the Beatles had passed on to Monty Python. After all, Python came together in late 1969, just as the Fab Four were becoming four fairly fab individuals. Both were groups of men who in a short period of time produced an amazing body of work that came to dominate their particular field, whether it be music or comedy. And of course both, in their own way, changed the world. Maybe George was onto something...

My Thoughts: To be honest, I didn't really get "Monty Python & The Quest for the Holy Grail" when I first saw it. Mind you, it was on a grainy VHS, which meant that I couldn't read the subtitles for the opening credits properly and the sound quality was less than desirable. I put it away and didn't think about it until some months (or maybe it was more than a year) later when I came back to it and watched it again. The silly irreverence was the point! Things didn't have to make sense! After that, I started collecting DVDs of their movies and most of the TV show episodes (Flying Circus DVDs are ridiculously expensive, so I just downloaded them). I did some research on the Pythons themselves, mostly Michael Palin who, were he not 40 years older than I, could gallop away with me on a coconut-equivalent of a horse.
They're all extremely well educated (2 attended Oxford, 3 attended Cambridge and 1 went to Occidental), which made me assume that they were all well-to-do hoity toity British men who are really smart and knew exactly what they were doing. Turns out that they are all that, except for the well-to-do bit. This book, which is just parts of interviews rearranged to flow together as it moves from the subject of their childhood, school years, early careers to Python greatness, is just what I wanted. I've read lots of biographies and what I don't like about them is that one can't really escape the opinions of the author. For instance, I've read countless biographies of Marie Antoinette (many of them more than once) and they range from portraying her as a brainless nitwit to a noble and tragic queen. Which are you supposed to believe? Autobiographies have the same problem, of course. People describe the events in his/her life to portray themselves as someone worth reading about, no? (That is why I will never show my journals to anyone. Not enough revision.) But because Python is an entity comprised of six individuals, you can get the different points of view about the same incident in one book.
I love that they became, for me, more than just a bunch of brilliant and funny people. They had their tiffs and side projects, but they more or less agreed on the vision of their work and the importance of each other when it came to the group as a whole. That's how it should be in a relationship, I think, be it a working partnership or friendship. Someone is always going to be anxious to break away and try something new. The point is to let them go on their way and hope for the best. They were also driven from a very early age. It makes me wish I weren't so antisocial and closed off during my undergrad years.
When I started the book, my favourite Python was Michael Palin and he still is. Now, I can admire Terry Gilliam a little more (I didn't think too much of his animation, but now I want to see some of his films) and find myself relating to Terry Jones. He did some directing, wrote children's books (which Kevin kindly lent me last summer) as well as books of a more academic bent, and he seems to be the one most anxious to keep the Pythons connected together as a group. Plus, I like his raspy female impressions.

Next on the List: Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens.

Memes - I'm sleepy.

2006-02-26T20:17:59Z

I think I know myself well enough already, but I'm bored and sleepy.

the Questioner
Test finished!

you chose CY - your Enneagram type is SIX.

"I am affectionate and skeptical"

Questioners are responsible, trustworthy, and value loyalty to family, friends, groups, and causes. Their personalities range broadly from reserved and timid to outspoken and confrontative.

How to Get Along with Me

Be direct and clear.
Listen to me carefully.
Don't judge me for my anxiety.
Work things through with me.
Reassure me that everything is OK between us.
Laugh and make jokes with me.
Gently push me toward new experiences.
Try not to overreact to my overreacting.

What I Like About Being a Six

being committed and faithful to family and friends
being responsible and hardworking
being compassionate toward others
having intellect and wit
being a nonconformist
confronting danger bravely
being direct and assertive

What's Hard About Being a Six

the constant push and pull involved in trying to make up my mind
procrastinating because of fear of failure; having little confidence in myself
fearing being abandoned or taken advantage of
exhausting myself by worrying and scanning for danger
wishing I had a rule book at work so I could do everything right
being too critical of myself when I haven't lived up to my expectations

Sixes as Children Often

are friendly, likable, and dependable, and/or sarcastic, bossy, and stubborn
are anxious and hypervigilant; anticipate danger
form a team of "us against them" with a best friend or parent
look to groups or authorities to protect them and/or question authority and rebel
are neglected or abused, come from unpredictable or alcoholic families, and/or take on the fearfulness of an overly anxious parent

Sixes as Parents

are often loving, nurturing, and have a strong sense of duty
are sometimes reluctant to give their children independence
worry more than most that their children will get hurt
sometimes have trouble saying no and setting boundaries

Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele

The Enneagram Made Easy
Discover the 9 Types of People
HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, 161 pages

You liked the test? so please RATE it :-)

You are not completely happy with the result?!
You chose CY

Would you rather have chosen:

AY (EIGHT)

BY (FOUR)

CX (TWO)

CZ (ONE)

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 0% on ABC

You scored higher than 57% on XYZ

Link: The Quick and Painless ENNEAGRAM Test written by felk on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

LAYER ONE: ON THE OUTSIDE
Name: Judy Dawoon Chung (I'm just going to pretend that I legally changed my name).
Birthday: January 12, 1983.
Current Location: North York, Ontario, Canada
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Righty or Lefty: Righty
Zodiac Sign: Steady dependable Capricorn
Favorite music: I've been listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong lately. "Baby, It's Cold Outside!"

LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE
What Shoes Did You Wear Today: Running shoes
Your weakness: Cheesecake
Your perfect pizza: Something that doesn't have too much greasy meat on it. Maybe it's just best to go for an all-veggie pizza, although no one will have green peppers with me. You anti-green pepper bastards!
Goal you'd like to achieve: Crazy E-mail: Westmount Years. It haunts me~~~

LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW
Your most overused phrase: Bloody hell! DOOFUS!
Your thoughts first waking up: Must...buy...sleeping...mask...
Your best physical feature: I can't decide between my hands and eyes.
Your most missed memory: So many, but the first thing that came to mind was when we collected change in Westmount and bought fries for the entire group to share.

LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK:
Pepsi or Coke: Coke. Definitely Coke.
McDonald's or Burger King: I'd say Burger King.
Adidas or Nike: Nike.
Lipton Tea or Nestea: Nestea.
Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?
Smoke: Good God, no.
Swear: All the time!
Take showers: Mmm~ Showers~.
Have a crush: ???
Think you've been in love: Yes.
Want to get married: When I'm ready for it.
Like(d) high school: I used to think it was hell back then, but it really was very enjoyable.
Believe in yourself: I think I deserve to have success in life.
Get motion sickness: No.
Think you're a health freak: Not really. My dad is, though, so we've had certain foods banned in our house from time to time like: sugar (fattening), eggs (cholestrol), milk (lactose) and juice (sugary kind).
Get along with your parents: Of course. I'm the perfect doormat daughter. *seethes* Better my mum than my dad.

LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH
Drank alcohol: Yes, a tiny bit of my dad's wine.
Gone on a date: Yes.
Gone to the mall: Yes. (What kind of a stupid question...?)
Been on stage: Pftah.
Eaten Sushi: Mmhmm.
Been dumped: No, but I thought I was going to be for a split second.
Gone skinny dipping: It's winter and it's freezing.
Dyed your hair: Thought about it, but no.

LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER
Taken off your clothes during a game: What kind of games do people play that require stripping?
Gotten beaten up: I got tossed around pretty well by the Marshmallow Man in grade 9, but never a real beating.
Changed who you were to fit in: Not to fit in, but I hope I'm much more open-minded and nicer than I was younger.

LAYER EIGHT: GETTING OLDER
Age you hope to be married: After 30.
Describe your dream wedding: Very small and intimate wedding in autumn with only the closest friends (and family friends, since that's unavoidable) present. Sunflowers. A real cake (not some overly decorated thing with more than half of its volume consisting of frosting).
How do you want to die: In my sleep of heart failure or some such.

LAYER NINE: IN A GAL/GUY
Best eye color? Really doesn't matter, as long as they're expressive and lively.
Best hair color? I'm not a big fan of blondes.
Height: Taller than me, preferably.
Best first date location: Doesn't matter, as long as it's fun.

LAYER TEN: IN THE NUMBERS
Number of people: Where? At home? Right now, 3.
Number of CD's: They're all over the place. I don't count them.
Number of piercings: Two.
Number of tattoos: 0.
Number of times ur names been in the newspaper: Once, for the Science Olympics in grade 9. Yes, it's geeky. No need to tell me!
Number of scars on body: Seven. Five of them on my hands.

Brokeback to the Future

2006-02-21T05:27:04Z

Robert and I saw "Brokeback Mountain" two Saturdays ago. It was so lovely.

Here's a spoof: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/video/brokebackfuture

Enjoy!

Book post: Wicked by Gregory Maguire

2006-02-21T05:23:24Z

What? Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

Who? Gregory Maguire

When? First published in 1996, revised edition 2004

Where? In my room, mostly. The last chunk was read as a nervous displacement activity while Robert was in the hospital.

How'd I get it? Sean Wang gave it to me for my 23rd birthday.

Why? Linda and Debbie love the musical and infected me with their enthusiasm. The book came later, but I was hesitant because I never liked "The Wizard of Oz" movie.

Length? 406 pages. Took me 10 days to read (February 9~19, 2000).

First Bit: A mile above Oz, the Witch balanced on the wind's forward edge, as if she were a green fleck of the land itself, flung up and sent wheeling away by the turbulent air. White and purple summer thunderheads mounded around her. Below, the Yellow Brick Road looped back on itself, like a relaxed noose. Though winter storms and the crowbars of agitators had torn up the road, still it led, relentlessly to the Emerald City. The Witch could see the companions trudging along, maneuvering around the buckled sections, skirting trenches, skipping when the way was clear. They seemed oblivious of their fate. But it was not up to the Witch to enlighten them.

My Thoughts: I'm beginning to think I'm some sort of Galinda. Debbie wrote about the plot and the gritty writing style in her entry.

Debbie has inspired me...

2006-02-09T05:21:41Z

Debbie and I were talking about books tonight and she mentioned how she was planning on posting something whenever she finished a new book. I think she's perfectly right when she says it prompts us to read new things. I tend to get stuck in books that I really like.

But what coincidence! I finished a book earlier this evening! I don't think Debbie will mind if I steal her format.

What? Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Who? Susanna Clarke. It's her first novel. She lives in Cambridge, which is all the information provided in the book.
When? It was published in 2004. Kevin gave it to me as a birthday present in January.
Where? On my bed, mostly. Sometimes in the car while waiting for my brother. I found that Tchaikovsky was a very appropriate accompaniment with all of his flouncy fairy lightness.
How'd I get it? Like I said, birthday present from Kevin. He hadn't read it, but he knew that I like early 19th century England, which is the setting of this novel. It's also a fantasy, so you get the English no-nonsense attitude with the magical stuff.
Why? Why not?
Length 1006 pages. Took me approximately 18 days off and on to read (January 21~February 8, 2006). It took me longer than usual, if you consider the fact that I am currently a bum and haven't got much else to do except read, write, study and cook food for the family.
First Bit: Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic. They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed anyone by magic - nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree, made one mote of dust alter its course or changed a single hair upon any one's head. But, with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentleman in Yorkshire.
My Thoughts: I thought the title misleading at first. For the first few chapters, I wondered why characters (not one of them named Strange nor Norrell) should feature so prominently. The idea behind the novel was intriguing, of course. Magic! Mixed with 19th century English history! Fabulous. I liked how the author described the important historical events (Napoleon, Duke of Wellington, Waterloo, madness of King George III) occurring at the time, explaining how they were shaped by the fictional title characters. I didn't know where the plot was going half the time, but I didn't care! There were footnotes (in a novel!) making references to all sorts of magic-related things that were put in to ensure that the book sounded like a history of magic textbook. I looked at my own Ookie Cookie (a mere 10 pages so far) and I have moments like that too, but nowhere near as long as the ramblings that go on here. Since the book was 1006 pages long, I didn't think there was a need to footnote every magical reference that the author invented to begin with, but oh well. To be frank, I liked the first two volumes (636 pages) when there was no discernible plot. When the author started to venture into some sort of storyline, I found myself getting fidgety. I think she could have cut down the remaining 370 pages down to 150 without any trouble. The story finally began to go somewhere in the last 50 pages, and the ending was abrupt but fitting. It really was enjoyable. I could go into Christianity-Science allegory or even struggles within religion itself, but that would be too much like essay writing and I'd like to continue enjoying this book (and the others on my bookshelf), so I'll stop.

*breathe* I'm going to read Three Musketeers to cleanse my palate and move onto "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire.

Crazy E-mail – I. HATE. BELL.

2006-02-03T16:54:08Z

Dear friends,

For weeks now, you have been wondering “Where did Judy go? Why aren’t there any Crazy E-mails? Where’s the bitter eloquence that tickles us so?” Or maybe you haven’t and I’m just being narcissistic.

Ponder no more, my friends. Ponder no more.

Do you know what I’m doing now? I’m on hold on the phone with Bell. So you’ll excuse me if my writing is slightly off.

I hate Bell.

I do. Alexander Graham Bell was a splendid fellow, but I have little love for the company that bears his name and insists on putting people on hold when, as a phone company, they should know better than to have five people manning the business phone call centre.

I had this problem before, back in June, when my high speed modem failed to arrive in Wiarton. I was shunted off from department to department, spinning my tale of countryside exile and isolation to any operator unfortunate enough to have to deal with me. At first, I was nice and understanding, but by the time, I was forced to relate my story for the umpteenth time after being put on hold and disconnected innumerable times, I was pissed. PISSED, I say. I berated the man quite soundly (without resorting to the foulest curses I could think of) and demanded that he figure out what the problem was NOW. “I don’t APPRECIATE being led around in CIRCLES for something as simple as a MODEM DELIVERY. WHERE IS MY MODEM?”

The inn closed at the end of October. My father called Bell and told them to suspend the phone lines until the end of March. He called again in November and December to confirm that it was suspended. Yesterday, we got a bill for almost $300 out of the blue. Oh, he was angry. Once again, he was put on hold several times, which aggravated him even further. I finally took over the task of waiting on hold, because he was getting too upset. A nice man picked up the phone and I explained the whole thing to him as plainly as I could.

Apparently, that wasn’t firm enough for my oh-so-exacting father. If I’m nice, I’m too nice. If I’m angry, I’m too nasty. He’s complained about this before in Wiarton when I dealt with guests. I’m not a fucking tightrope walker and it’s not going to help the situation to yell at the person who has no idea what your problem is to begin with!

The nice man promised to call back after investigating what happened, but didn’t. During dinner, my father instructed me to call them again this morning and muttered something about how it would decide the course of my future (as a strong assertive person versus a mewling doormat pushover, I suppose). Uh huh. It’s not the most helpful or tactful thing to say in that kind of situation, but I let it pass. Assertiveness toward parents is disrespectful, they say. (Another one of those darned double standards.)

This morning, I called the Bell business phone call centre at 9am and got this recorded message:
“The Bell business phone call centre is currently closed. Our office is open from 8:30am to 5:00pm Monday to Friday. Please try again later.”

Uh huh. I threw my pen across the living room. Then I called again to make sure I didn’t hear wrong. I didn’t.

At 9:30, I was finally allowed to wait on hold for a representative to take my call. A man took my account number like the other three people I talked to (by then, I had all five phone numbers memorized perfectly) and I explained my problem. He connected me to some person in another department called Final Accounts. Sounds ominous, right? Maybe it was the “Final” that made me think that SOMEONE here would help me.

Oh, but the adventure didn’t end there, no.

The person THERE told me that she didn’t know why the person from the first department would send me to her. She sent me back. Uh huh. I was on hold for maybe 30~45 minutes? Then I suddenly heard people chatting and laughing, but no one to actually help me. I ranted into the phone, “SOMEONE BETTER PICK UP! PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE!!!”

I was disconnected. I threw my box of Kleenex across the living room and it landed neatly beside the pen.

I called the Business call centre again. I waited on hold, listening to the same stupid song playing over and over with the usual bullshit “Your call is important to us. Please hold…” repeating every so often.

Someone picked up. I explained the situation again. I also explained yesterday’s fiasco and this morning’s incompetence of Bell employees in general. And yes, my voice did go up ever so slightly. My annoyance was beginning to show. I got his name. I also managed to find out that he had Monday off, but that he would be back at work on Tuesday. He told me what the other guy told me yesterday afternoon – he would call me back before 5pm after he figured things out. I told him that I would hunt him down on Monday, if he didn’t. Not in those words, of course. More like, “You’ll call me back, right? Today? Before 5? For sure? I will be immensely displeased if yesterday’s events repeat themselves. By the way, is there somewhere I can go to complain in person?”

That’s right! FIRM! I’m FIRM, goddammit!

Of course, I’m stuck here for the next five hours waiting for him to call me back. But I figure, if he doesn’t do as he promised, I am free to kick ass guilt-free over the phone on Monday.

Oh, so very cranky. I hate Bell. Hate it. Bitter enough for you?

Ah, hell with it.

2006-01-26T18:16:52Z

I wasn't going to fill this out.

Appearance
[ ] I am shorter than 5'4.
[x] I think I'm ugly sometimes.
[x] I have many scars.
[ ] I tan easily. I avoid the sun like the plague, because I'm a vampire. I also burn.
[x] I wish my hair was a different color.
[ ] I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.
[ ] I have a tattoo.
[x] I am self-conscious about my appearance.
[ ] I have/I've had braces.
[x] I wear glasses/contacts. I want laser eye surgery!
[x] I would get plastic surgery if it were 100 safe, free of cost, and scar-free. Ahem, hem. *shifty-eyed* My aunt paid for it.
[x] I've been told I'm attractive by a complete stranger. I think he might have been insane.
[ ] I have more than 2 piercings.
[ ] I have piercings in places besides my ears.
[x] I have freckles.

Family/Home Life
[x] I've sworn at my parents.
[ ] I've run away from home. I ran away from school in grade 1.
[ ] I've been kicked out of the house.
[x] My biological parents are together.
[ ] I have a sibling less than one year old.
[x] I want to have kids someday. Wouldn't it be nice if toddlers could suddenly grow up into 10 year-olds?
[ ] I've had children.
[ ] I've lost a child.

School/Work
[ ] I'm in school. Will hopefully start again. *crosses fingers*
[x] I have a job.
[x] I've fallen asleep at work/school.
[x] I almost always do my homework.
[ ] I've missed a week or more of school. That would be sacrilege in our household.
[ ] I've been on the Honor Roll within the last 2 years. I don't think they have those at our school, or do they? Damn U of T.
[ ] I failed more than 1 class last year.
[ ] I've stolen something from my job.
[x] I've been fired. They wanted their kids to go to those stupid math class thingies instead. I'm not bitter!
[x] I've skipped school.

Embarrassment
[ ] I've slipped out a "lol" in a spoken conversation.
[x] Disney movies still make me cry
[ ] I've peed from laughing
[x] I've snorted while laughing.
[x] I've laughed so hard I've cried.
[ ] I've glued my hand to something.
[x] I've laughed till some kind of beverage came out of my nose.
[ ] I've had my pants rip in public.
[x] I've spilt stuff on my clothes in public.

Health
[ ] I was born with a disease/impairment.
[x] I've gotten stitches.
[ ] I've broken a bone.
[ ] I've had my tonsils removed.
[x] I've sat in a doctors office with a friend. I believe it was with Linda.
[ ] I've had my wisdom teeth removed.
[ ] I had a serious surgery.
[x] I've had chicken pox.
[ ] I've had the measles.

Traveling
[x] I've driven over 200 miles in one day.
[x] I've been on a plane.
[x] I've been to Canada.
[x] I've been to Mexico.
[x] I've been to Niagara Falls.
[ ] I've been to Japan.
[ ] I've Celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
[ ] I've been to Europe.
[ ] I've been to Africa.
[x] I've been on a train.

Experiences
[x] I've gotten lost in my city.
[ ] I've seen a shooting star.
[ ] I've wished on a shooting star.
[ ] I've seen a meteor shower.
[x] I've gone out in public in my pajamas. I was supposed to meet Linda and Jenn to exchange Christmas presents, but overslept. They called, woke me up, and I rushed over in my PJs and a jacket. They thought I was crazy.
[x] I've pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
[x] I've kicked a guy where it hurts.
[x] I've been to a casino.
[ ] I've been skydiving.
[ ] I've gone skinny dipping.
[ ] I've played spin the bottle.
[ ] I've drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.
[x] I've crashed a car
[x] I've been Skiing.
[x] I've been in a play.
[ ] I've met someone in person from the internet.
[x] I've caught a snowflake on my tongue.
[ ] I've seen the Northern Lights.
[ ] I've sat on a roof top at night.
[ ] I've played chicken.
[x] I've played a prank on someone.
[x] I've ridden in a taxi.
[ ] I've seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
[x] I've eaten Sushi.
[ ] I've been snowboarding.

Relationships
[ ] I'm single.
[x] I'm in a relationship. ^O^
[ ] I'm engaged.
[ ] I'm married.
[ ] I've gone on a blind date.
[ ] I've been the dumpee more than the dumper.
[x] I miss someone right now.
[ ] I have a fear of commitment.
[ ] I've cheated in a relationship.
[ ] I've gotten divorced.
[x] I've had feelings for someone who didn't have them back.
[ ] I've told someone I loved them when I didn't.
[ ] I've told someone I didn't love them when I did.
[ ] I've kept something from a past relationship. Kept what?

Sexuality
[ ] I've had a crush on someone of the same sex.
[x] I've had a crush on a teacher.
[x] I am a cuddler.
[ ] I've been kissed in the rain.
[x] I've hugged a stranger.
[ ] I have kissed a stranger.

Honesty/Crime
[x] I've done something I promised someone else I wouldn't.
[x] I've done something I promised myself I wouldn't.
[x] I've snuck out of my house.
[x] I have lied to my parents about where I am.
[ ] I am keeping a secret from the world. If I am, I don't know it.
[x] I've cheated while playing a game. Cranium at Matt's house. I knew the "Gladiator" thing, because I'd done it before.
[x] I've cheated on a test.
[x] I've run a red light. AHAHAHAHAA~
[ ] I've been suspended from school.
[ ] I've witnessed a crime.
[x] I've been in a fist fight. I whooped his ass. Damn panties-peeking pervert!
[ ] I've been arrested.
[ ] I've shoplifted.

Drugs/Alcohol
[x] I've consumed alcohol.
[ ] I regularly drink.
[ ] I've passed out from drinking.
[ ] I have passed out drunk at least once in the past 6 months.
[ ] I've smoked weed.
[x] I've taken painkillers when I didn't need them.
[ ] I've eaten shrooms.
[ ] I've popped E.
[ ] I've inhaled Nitrous.
[ ] I've done hard drugs.
[x] I have cough drops when I'm not sick.
[ ] I can't swallow pills.
[x] I can swallow about 5 pills at a time no problem
[ ] I have been diagnosed with clinical depression.
[x] I shut others out when I'm depressed. I whine when I'm pseudo-depressed. It's when I'm quiet that you have to worry.
[ ] I take anti-depressants.
[ ] I'm anorexic or bulimic.
[x] I've slept an entire day when I didn't need it.
[x] I've woken up crying.

Death and Suicide
[ ] I'm afraid of dying. I imagine it would feel like a big sigh. I'm more sad about leaving loved ones behind.
[x] I hate funerals.
[ ] I've seen someone dying.
[ ] Someone close to me has attempted suicide.
[ ] Someone close to me has committed suicide.

Materialism
[ ] I own over 5 rap CDs.
[ ] I own an iPod or MP3 player.
[ ] I have an unhealthy obsession with anime/manga.
[ ] I own multiple designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.
[ ] I own something from Hot Topic.
[ ] I own something from Pac Sun.
[ ] I collect comic books.
[x] I own something from The Gap.
[x] I own something I got on e-bay.
[ ] I own something from Abercrombie.
[ ] I own something from hollister.
[ ] I own something from American Eagle.
[ ] I own something from Express.

Political/Social Attitudes
[x] In general, I don't like people.
[x] I'm a feminist.
[ ] I'm outgoing.
[ ] I listen to political music.
[ ] I'm Democratic.
[ ] I'm Republican.
[x] I'm liberal.
[ ] I'm religious. Moohahahahaha!
[x] I dress fairly modestly.
[ ] My attitude is, "If you've got it, flaunt it."

Random
[ ] I can sing well.
[ ] I've stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant. What the hell for?
[x] I open up to others easily.
[x] I watch the news.
[ ] I don't kill bugs.
[x] I hate hearing songs that sacrifice meaning for the sake of being able to rhyme.
[x] I curse regularly.
[x] I sing in the shower.
[ ] I am a morning person.
[ ] I paid for my cell phone ring tone.
[x] I'm a snob about grammar.
[ ] I am a sports fanatic.
[x] I twirl my hair.
[ ] I have "x"s in my screen name.
[ ] I love being neat.
[ ] I love Spam.
[ ] I've copied more than 30 CD's in a day.
[ ] I bake well. Oh, biscotti! Bane of my existence!
[x] My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red or blue.
[x] I would wear pajamas to school.
[ ] I like Martha Stewart.
[ ] I know how to shoot a gun.
[x] I am in love with love.
[ ] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS.
[x] I laugh at my own jokes.
[ ] I eat fast food weekly.
[x] I believe in ghosts.
[ ] I am online 24/7, even as an away message.
[ ] I've not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
[x] I can't sleep if there is a spider in the room.
[x] I am really ticklish.
[ ] I love white chocolate.
[x] I bite my nails. I nibble occasionally as a hand gesture.
[x] I play video games.
[x] I'm good at remembering faces.
[ ] I'm good at remembering names.
[x] I'm good at remembering dates.
[x] I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.
[x] My answers are totally honest. Wouldn't it be funny if I didn't cross this off and then you all spent your day wondering which part is a lie?

Happy now? Happy?

Compliments...

2006-01-17T22:19:05Z

Yesterday, Linda said something that made me teary-eyed.

"If it weren't for you, I'd never be amused."

That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I told her so. She was surprised and - I suspect - a little embarrassed.

The other day, Brian said, "But that's completely insane! Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking to." which I don't think he meant to be a compliment necessarily, but made me feel good anyway. Yes, I take accusations of insanity as a compliment.

Most of the compliments I've gotten in my life were meaningless things that adults say to be polite. "Ladylike" is a word they like to use, but YOU know that's not really true. "She'll be getting married soon!" is another creepy favourite. "You've gotten prettier since I saw you last!" is a bloody lie. That's why I like Mr. Kim, my dad's friend. He doesn't say stuff like that, preferring a firm handshake to show that he's glad to see you.

Why can't we all be honest and sincere with compliments? They should be about one's appreciation for another person. How fortunate one feels every single day to know someone.

I'm glad to have you guys as my friends. I'm so lucky. *tear*

Or as Robert said the other day, "How is it possible for someone to make me feel so happy and content?"

Mini Crazy E-mail – I’m…really smart.

2006-01-16T17:31:43Z

Here is a transcription of all the words that came out of my mouth in the last hour (11am~noon).

[In bed, half asleep]
Mmmyaaaaah…Monday. 16th.
[Suddenly wakes up]
Oh…FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK BUGGER SHITTY FUUUUUUUUUUCK! Oh fuck!
[Jumps out of bed, pulls wallet out and checks driver’s license]
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK!
[Runs into bathroom and starts brushing teeth]
FRRUUGHHHK! Ptooie! Ohhh…crap! CRAP!
[Washes face, dries it off, moisturizes in mad panic]
*whimper* Noooooooo~~~
[Runs around condo in mad panic]
ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!
[Gets dressed and runs into elevator]
*whisper* Shit! Bleeding bloody idiot!
[Jumps into car, which is almost out of gas, apparently]
BLOODY HELL!
[Drives madly]
…
[Parks car, jumps out of car and dashes into building]
GAH!
[Waits silently in line for her turn]
…!!!...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[Her turn]
Hi, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the license on my birthday. I don’t suppose- Debit. A picture? [thinks of her crazy squashed hair and bags under her eyes, and thinks some more choice words] Okay.
[After it’s over]
Thank-you.

Very composed and ladylike, don’t you agree? Give me a break, I had a lot of things on my mind last week, okay? At least all they wanted was a new picture. I was worried they would force me to take the tests again. Yes, I know. I’m a nut.

Okay, I'm really tired, so I don't know what I'm still doing up...

2006-01-16T06:07:11Z

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Ladyjutea!

Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and ladyjutea has 7.

Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than ladyjutea!

Ladyjutea was banned from Finland because of not wearing pants.

The ladyjutea-fighting market in the Philippines is huge - several thousand ladyjutea-fights take place there every day.

Baskin Robbins once made ladyjutea flavoured ice cream.

The smelly fluid secreted by skunks is colloquially known as ladyjutea!

If you blow out all the candles on ladyjutea with one breath, your wish will come true!

The deepest part of ladyjutea is over 35,000 feet deep!

It is bad luck to walk under ladyjutea.

Pound for pound, hamburgers cost more than ladyjutea.

Not wearing pants? Ice cream flavoured like me? Smelly skunk smell? Deepest part at 35000feet? Bad luck to walk under me?
All these things aren't doing any good for my reputation.

On a completely different note, Linda and Kevin are back from New York and Washington D.C.!

Crazy E-mail – Not stolen from Helen Fielding, I swear!

2006-01-12T05:21:53Z

Twenty minutes to go until doom! DOOM!
Am about to turn 23. Ghastly age, but fabulous number. Birthday buddy Brenda assures self that 23 does not, in fact, count as the dreaded mid-20s. Am somewhat relieved, as wish to defer entrance into first “mid-something” stage of existence for as long as possible. When quizzed on her “mid-something” theory, B.B. Brenda turns to the dreaded U of T GPA system which, on other occasions related to scholarly aspiration, would normally cause severe distress and tearing out of hair.

Perhaps, have got self into horrible anti-aging frenzy that am losing perspective on crisis. Am 22. Will be 23. It is not such a terribly large number. Anyway, other friends – most of whom have already passed the 23 mark and will be going onto 24 – will think am disgustingly ageist, paranoid and melodramatic.

Still…feel dreadfully lazy/incompetent when compared to some friends who’ve already got their entire lives in order. Maybe will eat the giant bar of Swiss chocolate.

No, musn’t.

Gah! Seven minutes to go! Will read birthday card from Linda over and over to distract self from time ticking down ever so purposefully on computer.

Card says:
Not only do you have weird ideas, you carry them out.
I like that about you. Happy Birthday.

Linda wrote:
Dear Judy,
Happy 23rd Birthday!!! The instant I saw this card, I thought of you. Haha. It’s so perfect – it’s as if the cardmakers knew that I would need a card for your birthday and made this one up for me.
Anyway, I’m sorry I’m not here for your actual birthday – we’ll definitely have to celebrate when I get back from my trip. It’ll be the first year in awhile that we actually get to go out for your birthday! YAY! At least that’s one good thing about being out of school – no exams or essays or classes to prevent us from doing stuff. We’ll do something fun…maybe try to find out what you’re like when you’re drunk? I wonder if you’ll be silly – we’ll definitely need some sort of camera along on this experiment!
Enjoy the day – no stressing or anything like that, okay? Forget about PT and the future and job-hunting and Wiarton today. Read or work on your “novel” instead! Better yet, brainstorm ideas for a new “how to” book! LOL. How to write a Crazy E-mail? Establish weird obsessions? Write a parody? Record an audio CD on how sound and the ears work? We’ll be rich!

Love you lots, Judes.
Linda (Beer Nut)

Read it again and again last night in confines of bedroom to cheer self up. My talisman against insanity, surely.

Am 23. Will be 24. NO NO NO. Am 23. Simply 23. 23 is fabulous number. 23.

Robert writes:
23 is a good number. Because 2 and 3 add to 5, which, when doubled, becomes 10. 10, as we all know, is constructed by the conjunction of a 1 and 0, both binary numbers, which can also mean 2! And 2 isn’t all that far off from 3, now, is it?
So 23, I’d say, is a pretty good number as such.
Happy Twenty-Three!

Happy Twenty-Three to you and me, Brenda.