Monday, May 31, 2004
More Bombs in Karachi
Oh God. All this violence. All these bombs. All these burnign tyres. All these riots. All these mobs. All these guns. All these janazas. All these things.
Too much. It is too much. It has got to stop. It has got to stop.
Please post any comments you may have on his blog.
... Read the rest of "More Bombs in Karachi"
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Revenge of the Nerds
I have known HTML for a whole two months now and I’m satisfied with how my blog functions. I’ve learned to correct almost every mistake I’ve ever made and I’ve even managed to make up a few things without reducing the entire bazaar to a sputtering page of unclickable links and gibbering hyper-personal nonsense.
But now it occurs to me that those who deem Blogger like totally uncool are the same people who have posters of Xena plastering their bedroom walls and idolize Barbara Adams, Champion of Intergalactic Peace and Tolerance (who actually has a fan page...I am not making this up, you know). So that’s why I decided to spend a couple of hours swearing at my computer and stomping around the apartment like a baby allosaurus. If it ain’t broken, heap piles of steaming manure on it. That’s what I always say.
After staring at a directory of unzipped Movable files freshly downloaded into my computer for approximately five minutes, I realized I had absolutely no clue as to how to proceed. “I know! I’ll check the online instructions!” I thought to myself triumphantly. After staring at the online instructions for approximately five minutes, I realized I had absolutely no clue as to how to proceed. I felt exactly like I’d felt after having read the following passage from Star Trek: The Next Generation: Technical Manual, a book my sister sent me as I joke (I hope). Keep in mind as you’re reading that the topic is something made up:
“A subspace field of one thousand millicochranes or greater becomes the familiar warp field. Field intensity for each warp factor increases geometrically and is a function of the total of the individual field layer values. Note that the cochrane value for a given warp factor corresponds to the apparent velocity of a spacecraft traveling at that warp factor. For example, a ship traveling at Warp Factor 3 is maintaining a warp field of at least 39 cochranes and is therefore traveling at 39 times c, the speed of light.”
Of course! I am nothing but an ignorant fool! But not so ignorant that I can’t search the entire unzipped Movable files for anything with the word “install”. There turned out to be several, but they all seemed to pertain to magical feats that only occur after installation. In vain I raced my pointer up and down the files, searching for something…anything!…that ended with “.exe”. Nothing was to be found.
So now the files have been removed from my computer. I hang my head in defeat. I could have been a glorious god; instead I will a mere mortal. Vanquished, I return to my dots and that weird orange color I can’t replace with anything…a broken blogger.
Maybe one day I will be like Frank, who I am not implying is a nerd, who designs his own sites and could kick Movable Type's ass, and who on his blog gives you a choice of three styles in which to view his wackiness, manic, arctic teacup, and feline. Maybe one day I’ll turn like Jean-Luc Picard to my computer crew and say, “Make it so.” And it will be so.
[Disclaimer: Voyager and Enterprise are two of my favourite TV shows. What’s more, I think Captain Janeway and 7 of 9 would be pretty cool to have a few beers with, if they were real people, which they aren’t. Moreover, I would enjoy multiple sexual encounters with most of the male cast of Enterprise, and maybe even with T’Pol…or with 7, for that matter. No nerds were harmed in the writing of this bloggie, although I certainly wanted to harm a few.]
... Read the rest of "Revenge of the Nerds"
... Read the rest of "Alien Nation"
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Friday, May 28, 2004
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
|Purgatory (Repenting Believers)||Very Low|
|Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)||Very High|
|Level 2 (Lustful)||Low|
|Level 3 (Gluttonous)||Low|
|Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)||Low|
|Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)||Low|
|Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)||High|
|Level 7 (Violent)||Low|
|Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)||Low|
|Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)||Moderate|
Take the Dante's Inferno Test
Click on the levels for a complete explanation.
Limbo?! I get boring, beige limbo? I thought I'd get some serious retribution for lust, homosexuality, or surliness (although I have to admit that spending eternity with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle doesn't sound like such a raw deal). I guess being Jewish makes me a "virtuous nonbeliever". I must be so much more boring than I think I am.
(Pillaged from Bluewyvern.)
... Read the rest of "Limbo Bimbo"
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Sexy Android Librarian
Here, I do various exciting things like compiling lists of overdue books. They never let me make the threatening phone calls, though. They really should. I don’t think they quite understand the vast and profound talent they have before them, nestled in my slight, demure frame. I used to have a job where one of my duties was to remind Fortune 500 companies that they hadn’t paid their invoices of thousands of dollars. Later, I had a job where I occasionally had to call up unionized hospital laboratories to remind them that I had not yet received scores of HIV and HepC test results for people my staff were due to council at any second. So I think I can remind a few people that their book is a week or two late.
My direct supervisor in my duties as fake librarian is the stereotypical soft-spoken, passive-aggressive, rigid librarian who is nevertheless quite sweet. She attempts to maintain order in the midst of chaos, succeeding where it comes to books and failing where it comes to people. For example, I was five minutes late two Thursdays in a row and her solution to this dastardly shortcoming was to ask me to document henceforth my days of tardiness. To this, I reminded her that I am a) in my thirties, b) giving of my own time and c) in my thirties. But I did it all in that smiley, winky way I’ve evolved over the years to mask that urge to bury the offending parties up to their nose in sand. She’s too gentle for such violence. I just mocked her light-heartedly until she relented and giggled, wagging her finger at me and telling me “to be more conscientious”. Which I will do. I promise. Today I will only be four minutes late.
This is just one of the many guises Snobby takes on in his joint volunteering duties at Organizations #1 and #2. In all, I do about 25 hours of free service a week. It is the perfect job for me after years of high-stress employment that has completely burned me out (hence the blog). There’s a relaxed pace, friendly atmosphere, and that feeling of completing a task for the forces of good rather than for the forces of evil. A salary would be nice too, but if I volunteer long enough I’ll have an in. It’s not all about altruism, I admit.
In two weeks I begin training at Organization #1 for something I am greatly looking forward to. I will be a “buddy” to an HIV+ man. It’s a programme to help counteract the sense of social isolation experienced by the majority of HIV+ people. If I’m feeling especially pedantic one day, I’ll write a bloggie on this topic. In any case, I have been a buddy for friends before. But they were friends so it was a little different. I’m looking forward to being able to use this experience for the good of the general public. I encourage you all to volunteer somewhere.
I keep my promise to the sweet, rigid librarian. I guzzle the rest of my coffee and go.
... Read the rest of "Sexy Android Librarian"
Some Guys Have All the Luck
And one of my ancestors traveled to Tahiti so I am the Prince of a small Polynesian island.
... Read the rest of "Some Guys Have All the Luck"
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Snobbusnarf and the Two-Headed Homophogre
One day Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen was hunting pink elephants in the woods with his friends Egjey the Magnificent and Kaallinn the Beauteous. As the three slunk silently through the trees they heard the sound of swearing coming from a nearby clearing. The heroes strode towards the noise.
The swearing became louder as the entered the clearing. In the middle of it were two lesbians. One, with eyes of blue, hair of blond, and cheeks of rosy sat on a boulder, staring despondently at a patch of wild flowers. The other, with longer dark hair was wearing a red t-shirt with the words “Dar Williams is Goddess” written across it in Celtic-looking letters. This was the one who was swearing.
“#&%#@!” she spat.
“Greetings, yon lesbian,” Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen said as he strode towards her.
“What the fuck do you want?” She turned towards him violently.
“I want only to heal the ills that ail you.”
“Great! I’m going to be “rescued” by an over-the-hill boy band.” She turned back to survey a large square of smashed plants, littered with empty beer bottles and potato chip bags. “Where’s your fourth member? You know: the blond jailbait who turned into a sleazy alcoholic once he turned eighteen?”
“Now, Monique,” spoke up the one with hair the colour of honey. “These three fags are just trying to be nice.”
“Yes, Elizabeth” said the first, somewhat contritely.
The second rose from her perch on the rock. “She’s just upset because a two-headed homophogre destroyed our hemp field. This is our livelihood. Now what will do on market day in the village? What wares will we trade for the organically processed tofu that sustains us?”
This time it was Ajay the Magnificent who spoke. “This is indeed a sad state of affairs.” He shook his head gravely. “But fear not, my all-natural friends, for I am Egjey the Magnificent, strongest man in all the land. With my great power I will crush the foes who have wrought this ruin upon your heads!”
“And I am Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen, the wisest man in all the land. I will taunt and confuse this vile fiend until it knows no more!”
“And I am Kaallinn the Beauteous,” he stepped forth as a sudden breeze ruffled his hair in an appealing fashion. “I am the most beautiful man in all the land!”
The two lesbians waited for him to reveal the horrible fate he would bestow upon the demon. They noted that Snobbusnarf simply rolled his eyes and Egjey shook his head and they knew that nothing more would be forthcoming from his pouting lips.
“Well, we should be fine. I think we have enough to last us until we can grow more,” said the Dar Williams-clad lesbian, brightening slightly. “Plus there was that loser who left us that bag of magic beans. We can see what they do.”
“But we’ll be ruined if the two-headed homophogre comes back!”
“Never fear!” exclaimed Snobbusnarf. “We will vanquish the foe!”
And the three companions strode off along the path of destruction and blatant littering left by the monster. As they moved along they could hear in the distance a lone voice shouting after them: “We don’t need men to save us! We’d do it ourselves but we have Briggita’s Tea Goddess ceremony this afternoon!”
The forest grew dark around our friends as they moved farther and further into it. The more they progressed, the less they heard the tweeting of pretty, little birds. The undergrowth became rife with evil. The stench of wickedness lay heavy in the palpitating air. They caught a whiff of malice.
“Bleah!” exclaimed Egjey. “Somebody really let loose a pungent one!”
Kaallinn wrinkled his nose. “And somebody is wearing really cheap perfume!”
They walked further in the gathering gloom. Leaves were ripped off trees. Tree trunks had been urinated upon. Cigarette butts littered the narrow pathway. An empty Yoo-hoo can lay upon a rock next to the path, the remains of its former contents dribbling slowly to the fort floor.
Snobbusnarf halted. “Harken, my friends. We draw close. The fiend is nigh.”
And it was true. Shortly they drew close to a small stream. It no longer babbled. It seemed to whimper in unspoken terror. Beside it lay the most repulsive creature any of the three had seen, and being gay men they had seen a number of repulsive creatures in the dark. Even Egjey stepped back in disgust.
Its body was thick and swathed in a purple hoody with a Viking maiden wearing a fur bikini sprawling across the words “Ice Ice Baby”. Its arms were thick as legs, its legs as muscular as torsos. But the most repulsive part was its heads. Two ugly heads lolled somnolently on two indolent necks.
The first head was a man’s. It had a poorly trimmed goatee and a black baseball hat with a sports logo emblazoned across its front. A small greenish stream slithered from his nose.
The second head was a woman’s. It lay pristinely on a pile of moss, it’s red hair perfect and unmussed, its golden earrings clinked lightly in the wind. A slight whistling nose escaped from its nose as it breathed in and out.
“That’s not real gold!” Kaallinn whispered sharply in disgust, a little too loudly.
The creature stirred and woke at the harsh condemnation of its fashion sensibility. It rose unsteadily. “What the fuck?” uttered the male head intelligently.
Egjey immediately sprang forward and faced the repugnant fiend, his powerful muscles flexed in anticipation.
The female head took on a look of shocked wonder. “Oh…My…Gawd!” it shrieked. “It’s a ho-mo-seskshwel!”
“Prepare too meet your doom, foul fiend of the Otherworld!” he shouted bravely. “For I am Egjey the Magnificent and I will grind your bones to powder and feed them to the dung beetles!”
“No, brave Egjey!” interrupted Snobbusnarf bossily. “You mustn’t kill it! It is just a poor, dumb beast that knows not what it does! Come, fair friend, use your brave brawn for compassion instead for senseless slaughter. Build the creature a Peel Pub in which it may while away the hours in pleasant, timeless abandon”. He smiled benevolently upon the piteous thing as it scratched its backside, the female head berating the male for this impolite action.
Egjey graciously acquiesced to his friend’s wish and went off in search of the tackiest wood he could find.
“You, gorgeous Kaallinn. Distract the brute with all the charm and beauty you can muster while I sit upon yon hillock to think what to do next by means of my awesome sagaciousness.”
Kaallinn picked up an empty beer bottle and sauntered to a tree near to the creature. He stared resolutely over one of the beast’s shoulders. He then pretended to take a sip from the bottle, glancing briefly at the creature, which took no notice of him. He then began to bob his head rhythmically to an imagined beat, glancing over occasionally at the still oblivious creature. He then ambled to another tree where he removed his cell phone from his pocket and began to talk on it in an animated manner, glancing over at the creature who now looked back at him, seemingly bewildered by the rapid language streaming for betwixt his pouty lips. He abruptly ended his call and stared steadfastedly away from the creature.
Snobbusnarf observed this with bewilderment and quickly called to his handsome friend to ask him what manner of distraction this was meant to be.
“What manner of distraction is this meant to be?” he asked his handsome friend.
“I’m getting its attention! This always works for me.”
“This is not a bar, o dizzy one! Attempt to engage the beast in conversation.”
Kaallinn let forth a heavy sigh and strode forward. “Well, hello there! My name is Kaallinn and I am very pleased to meet you!”
The male head spoke first. “Dude, are you like supposed to be gay or something?”
Kaallinn rolled his eyes.
Meanwhile, Egjey had returned with several stacks of wood and commenced erecting a large rectangular structure with no character whatsoever. He chuckled with humour to himself as he listened to the creature babble.
“I mean, I was like watching the game the other day and the ref was like making all these really gay calls n’stuff. I mean I felt like totally screwed up the ass! I mean like what a cocksucker!”
The female head nodded vigorously and spoke up. “Like why did you choose to be gay in the first place? Is it because you like to cook? You faggots are just afraid of women. That’s what your problem is. You just need the right woman to show you. Honey, I’d straighten those wrists of yours…and something else as well…” She smiled lasciviously.
Kaallinn stood before them and wished that at least one of the beer bottles around him were full of beer, even warm flat beer.
No sooner had the male head finished a long speech in which he denied any trace of homophobia, using as proof the fact that he once worked with a guy who was gay and he was OK except for when he talked about his boyfriend which like totally creeped out the male head, when Egjey finished the Peel Pub. Snobbusnarf then arose from his perch on yon hillock and touched the tips of his fingers lightly to his temples. A warm glow emerged from his head and surrounded the building.
Anon, a young woman with a painted face and bosom larger than her head appeared at the Peel Pub door. “Well, hello there! My name is Candi-with-an-I and the Peel Pub is open for business! Come on in! We have two-for-one pitchers of Nondescript American Lite Beer, all-you-can-eat jalapeno pepper poppers, and all the reruns of “Home Improvement” and “Everybody Loves Raymond” you can watch!”
“Oooooooo!” gasped both heads together. The creature shambled towards the door. Once it was inside, the door shut…forever.
“Well, that wasn’t a very good story at all,” spat Kaallinn the Beauteous.
“I know,” said Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen. “All that build-up for nothing.”
“And I didn’t even get to rip my shirt off and show off my incredible pecs and washboard stomach,” sighed Egjey the Magnificent.
“Maybe our next adventure will have some sort of literary value,” responded Snobbusnarf.
Suddenly the forest around them was filled with a blinding light. Our friends covered their eyes for they had been almost blinded by the blinding light filling the forest around them.
A cold voice filled their ears. “On your knees before me, weak creatures!”
Snobbusnarf gasped in shock. “Forsooth! It is Hjördís the Petulant
“It is indeed I! Bow down before the Ice Queen!”
Will our heroes survive? Tune in for the next installment of the “The Harem of Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen”!
... Read the rest of "Snobbusnarf and the Two-Headed Homophogre"
This Afternoon! (maybe)
Snobbusnarf Lyserøde Skjeggen the Wise
Egjey the Magnificent
Kaallinn the Beauteous
Do you dare test your nerves in this shocking tale of horror?
... Read the rest of "This Afternoon! (maybe)"
Monday, May 24, 2004
Discover the wonderous harem dwellers! Learn their awesome powers! Find out their terrible secrets!
(Image pillaged from Kobi Israel (you said I could use the images if it was for personal use!) and distorted. Buy his book. תודה רבה , קובי )
... Read the rest of "Coming Soon!"
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Push My Buttons
My latest victim was this guy. But he's funny so hopefully I'll be forgiven, and just to be sure I sent him the Icelandic milk ad you'll see why thats extra hilarious (as I always am) if you go to his site. But as I am a marauding barbarian, I will continue to observe his site. He's very funny, so you should observe his site too.
From him I learned the mystic art of button making, through the guidance of these acolytes of buttonry. I have produced these:
So for those of you who have been clamouring for a way to link to Snobby in a unique and eye-catching manner, here is your chance. I will reciprocate should any of you also choose to learn this ancient technique.
And if anyone can tell me why the spacing suddenly changes here and what I can do about it, I'm very sure something very karmically nice will happen to that person.
Snobby Top 10
For lack of anything else of interest to write on this uninspiring, drizzly day, here is my own personal top of the week.
... Read the rest of "Push My Buttons"
Saturday, May 22, 2004
The first event of the day comes from Iceland, nabbed from Adda’s site. Here is an Icelandic milk commercial. Click and then click on the picture on the right (the people exercising). If this doesn’t make you want to pour your cartons down the toilet, I don’t know what will.
The second event of the day comes from Sweden. Komeda, the greatest group of all time finally released their new album. One of the things that makes them so great is that no one has heard of them. This allows Snobby to feel unique and iconoclastic, a feeling he enjoys greatly even if it’s illusory. If you want to be unique and iconoclastic just like me, go to their distributor’s site and watch their video.
I don’t have entries from Norway, Finland, and Denmark…well, I do but I’m feeling cranky and short-tempered today and don’t feel like typing anymore. I suppose, therefore, that a more accurate title would have been Íslendingasænskuradagurinn.
... Read the rest of "Norrænnadagurinn"
Friday, May 21, 2004
My Love! Orange My Heart!
But good can come out of these three-hour mental deserts. There is always some sort of role-play activity that I invariable enjoy. It’s like a game and I do find these activities educational in a manner in which no lecture can be. Yesterday’s was probably the best I’ve ever done (aside from various and sundry associated with no workshop; no description here due to potential maternal readers).
In an effort to get us to understand what it is like to live with constant hallucinations. We broke into groups of three. Two were to plan a trip and one was to whisper in the ear of one of the planners so that the other couldn’t hear. I was in a group with Some-Random-Guy and my friend SuperCool-Woman. I was to play the part of Disembodied Voice and SuperCool-Woman was the psychopath. I elected to whisper in English, in French (our main mode of communication), and, in honour of the fact that she is a recent arrival from Algeria, in the smatterings of Algerian Arabic (learned from ex-bosses), Palestinian Arabic (learned from a phrasebook), and Yemeni Arabic (learned from an ex-lover). None of these dialects are mutually intelligible, making the whole exercise extra fun for her.
SuperCool-Woman Plans a Trip With Some-Random-Guy (abridged)
SuperCool-Woman (SCW): Where should we go?
Surly Hallucination (SH): [Arabic] Cheap! Expensive! Train station!
SCW: [purses lips to try to keep a straight face]
Some-Random-Guy (S-R-G): I dunno. Any thoughts?
SCW: Maybe Iceland?
SH: [Arabic] Coffee! Tea! Airport!
SCW: [French] Stop it! [struggles to maintain composure]
S-R-G: I’m sorry? I don’t speak French.
SCW: Sorry. Are you interested in Iceland? [takes sip of water – this is foreshadowing, the sign of a quality bloggie]
SH: [English] In Iceland they roast babies for Christmas! Mmmmm…baby gravy!
SCW: [almost spits water all over S-R-G. Fights to regain breath]
S-R-G: Are you OK?
SH: [Arabic] My love! Orange! My heart!
SCW: [falls off chair and is no longer capable of communication]
So now when I see people talking to themselves, to people I can’t see, or laughing for no apparent reason, I have a much better idea of where they’re coming from and why it’s not such a big deal in terms of talking to them. It’s a great exercise. I encourage you all to try it.
We all had to switch around. When it came my turn to be nuts, I found it much easier just to do what the voice told me. God help the world if I ever become a paranoid schizophrenic.
... Read the rest of "My Love! Orange My Heart!"
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Go Bump in the Night
This regal-looking creature discovered that if you knock off all the books, you can climb the bookshelves like a tree. And the books make such a great sound as they hit the ground; you can have endless fun simply by knocking them off and watching them tumble to the floor. He looked so proud of himself. He even chirped a little greeting at me from the highest shelf as I fell to my knees in a little literary triage. It was such an original way of misbehaving that I could not be angry at him. I went back to dreaming about Zulfi.
It will hardly be as cute if it happens again tonight, however. Anyone have any good cat recipes? Just being proactive...
Don't laugh too much at my super-ugly couch. It's really, really comfy!
... Read the rest of "Go Bump in the Night"
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
My Future Husband
But I digress. As I mentioned, I am getting married! My husband’s name is Ajay and he looks like this. He is handsome and strong. His hobbies include car repair, fish-gutting, and shirtless grape-eating (him, not the grapes; well technically, the grapes don’t have shirts either). I like his shirtless grape-eating the best. He is employed, being a successful model and has even done a few Bollywood flicks too. So he’ll support me as my comet-like writing career gets off the ground. As you can see, he’s practically perfect in every way. Don’t we make a beautiful couple?
But he lives in Mumbai and I live in Toronto. This is a significant impediment to our love. Another significant impediment to our love is that he has absolutely no idea who I am. Yet another significant impediment to our love is the fact that he appears to be straight. These factors may make our actual marriage ceremony somewhat awkward, not to mention the wedding night. But as soon as we set a date, you’re all invited. I’ll post a registry in the next couple of days.
... Read the rest of "My Future Husband"
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
That is all I have the stamina to write today.
Bon appétit, tout le monde!
... Read the rest of "Street Meat"
Monday, May 17, 2004
Your fingers staple pine nuts into everything you touch
... Read the rest of "Your fingers staple pine nuts into everything you touch"
Once I Was Blind
This site will remain text-oriented and Snobby will remain the man of mystery you have all grown to fear and revile.
... Read the rest of "Once I Was Blind"
Sunday, May 16, 2004
La La La La La La La
Although Cigar-And-Leather-Sex-Boy and I were not exactly discussing Pre-Socratic influences on controversial philosopher Heidegger's later theories (we were discussing hot boys), my immediate thought when I saw her was still "How vain. How vapid." I can just imagine her side of the conversation:
"So I was all, like, y'know, and he goes "chill" and I was like "I am so totally sure!" He is, like, so busted. It's like oh my god! You can not be serious."
Perhaps I am the vain and vapid one by being so quick to judge a book by its cover. Perhaps she was indeed discussing Heidegger.
"It’s like, he totally ripped off the Pre-Socratics. Totally! Helloooo! You are so full of it!"
... Read the rest of "La La La La La La La"
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Along with cat attacks and The Shower of Agony and Lava (which lately has been The Antarctic Shower of Blizzards and Sleet for some inexplicable reason), one of my jarring morning rituals is the regular torture session of news reading. This is where I’m punted from dopily contented coffee drinker into melancholy Earthling. All these cruddy newspaper editors want us to know about is the horrific events of the world, from abuse in a certain Middle-Eastern prison, to rocket attacks in Gaza, to the murder of pregnant Israelis and their children, to why a certain formerly voluptuous American starlet who is famous simply because she married an old, rich, now-dead gentleman is feuding with a very obnoxious American radio host.
As I meander into my day I am treated to graphic pictures and descriptions, which, in the case of that prison, I had to see to believe and now I never need to see again. But had I truly wanted to know how long it took for that young American’s head to be hacked off or what noises he was making during the process, I would have found the video on the net. It wouldn’t have been too hard. I will never understand why we think these kinds of details are news. A human being was butchered horrifically. This is no Tarantino movie.
So I usually rush through the news as rapidly as possible and dive into the Comment section. I am fascinated by people think of the news they’ve just learned. The Letters to the Editor is my favourite section (not just because I’ve had three published in the past six months). In this mystical realm, the outrage over a misused hyphen or American spelling grows to the same proportions as that over my southern neighbour’s government’s foreign policy. On this plane of reality, the comments of some irritating hockey commentator with bad fashion sense are as weighty as those of the American Defence Secretary trying to justify a reason why he still has a job. I suppose this is why people like the formerly voluptuous starlet become famous: people don’t want to know what really happens in the world. Instead they want a background upon which to superimpose their fatigue and frustration. It’s like religion. It gives us a feeling of belonging and of purpose, no matter how unrealistic the basis.
Today there were two editorials I quite enjoyed. The first, in true Classics professor style, tries to find meaning in the events in that Middle-Eastern prison by relating it to The Iliad. It’s a dead school of thought, but he makes some interesting points. Plus he talks about Brad Pitt’s butt (There. That should temporarily increase my readership) so how can you go wrong?
The second was on yesterday’s ruling in Massachusetts that initiates that state’s joining with Ontario, British Columbia, and Quebec as North America’s first major constituencies to extend marriage to same-sex couples – and the first in the US – on Monday. It also explains, yet again, why civil union is a barely tolerable option. Anyone who has thoughts and opinions on this matter might get something from this.
Such an enigma the US is. It has some of the most progressive societal attitudes in the world – those of us, in the West at least, who scoff at out American cousins would not be we are right now had American students not gone on their collective acid trip in the 60s in reaction to another ill-conceived foreign invasion – yet it has some of the most repressive attitudes (masquerading as patriotism) towards self-expression, especially these days. But don’t get me started on their government’s foreign policy (NB – their government’s foreign policy, not their foreign policy)…
Two hundred and fifty thousand years ago when I was deeply entrenched in my adolescent closet, such an editorial in the paper would have been unthinkable. And here I am, sipping coffee in North America’s first major constituency to extend full marriage rights to same-sex couples. Reading the news isn’t all bad.
(Thanks for reading this far) As I write I am grooving to Metric (who have finally updated their site) and to my latest discovery, controller.contoller. Toronto has some great music! I’m not taking that job in Montreal.
... Read the rest of "Coffee Talk"
Friday, May 14, 2004
Never See the Light of Day
Actually, where it diverged from the book was the bizarre MSN chat Snobby had with odd friend, Works-Too-Much. Here, said oddity described a sexual practice Snobby will never, ever try – ever – let alone describe on his site. Works-Too-Much needs a vacation and Snobby needs to bathe his eyeballs. Oy!
... Read the rest of "Never See the Light of Day"
Thursday, May 13, 2004
I Am a Greek God
?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla
(PS - I didn't know I could put images in! Hmmmmm...the possibilities have just jumped exponentially...)
... Read the rest of "I Am a Greek God"
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Des patentes épatantes
I am growing increasingly amused at some of the searches that are bringing people to Snobby. There is consequently a new section below “Tell Uncle Snobby” to document my amusement. I won’t put in the numerous search results for “unemployed” I see because that search actually makes sense and should not be poked fun at, although I would dearly love to know what those people think of this site. To them I say, “Start your own blog!” However, I will put in the first search for “snobby” I see, as I am in the #1 position when you google that word. I am the Snobbiest of almost 87 000 snobs! Why would someone search for the word “snobby”?
I really wish people who stumble into Snobby’s Unemployment Office by accident would let me know what they think. Have their expectations of the Net been lowered or is Snobby to become a fun new pastime for them?
My amazing friend, Médecin-Sans-Frontières, gave me a new copy of my lost Metric album when I went over to his place for a couple of beers yesterday evening. It was stolen along with 23 other favourites right out of my bag while my back was turned, fumbling for my cell phone in front of my apartment, while waiting for above mentioned great friend to pick me up for our drive to Montreal a few weeks ago. One replacement down, 23 to go. Now that I think of it, this may explain the difficulties described in yesterday’s bloggie.
What a great friend he is!
Noudnic does not like it when I sleep past 7AM and usually wakes me up if I sleep in simply by staring at me. This morning he had a new approach. He jumped on my bed at around 7:20 and swatted my nose repeatedly – without claws – until I awoke. He then drew his little kitty head close to my mouth to smell my breath, immediately recoiled violently, and dashed away to cower under my desk. True story.
This morning I had bagels and boursin instead of bagels and cream cheese. Delicious! Try it!
Check out this thing I nabbed off of Adam's blog. Shockingly, I am "green", defined as follows:
At work or in school: I work best by myself. I like to focus on my ideas until my desire for understanding is satisfied. I am easily bored if the subject holds no interest to me. Sometimes, it is hard for me to set priorities because so many things are of interest.Like I needed the Net to tell me that.
With friends: I may seem reserved. Although my thoughts and feelings run deep, I am uneasy with frequent displays of emotion. I enjoy people who are interesting and of high integrity.
With family: I am probably seen as a loner because I like a lot of private time to think. Sometimes, I find family activities boring and have difficulty following family rules that don't make sense to me. I show love by spending time with my family and sharing ideas and interests.
Flow It, Show It, Long as God Can Grow It
For the third day in a row Snobby is having a great hair day. However, the butch chic of my stubble is beginning to transmogrify into an unclean itinerant look. I will therefore have to shave. I hate shaving. I don’t know why.
Go to Charles’ blog and find the Sunday, April 4 bloggie about the diary he found, and then click on the link to read selected entries. It will blow you away.
Go to Angry Alien, turn your speakers on, and click on “Amy’s Diary”. After you’ve picked yourself up off the floor and regained your breath, check out the rest of the site. It will blow you away too.
Give a little bit of money to a charitable organization today.
... Read the rest of "Des patentes épatantes"
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
... Read the rest of "Listless Diskness"
I feel for you people trapped in the confines of your overly air-conditioned offices and cubicles on such a lovely day. I truly, truly do.
... Read the rest of "Ha Ha!"
Monday, May 10, 2004
Searching Far and Wide
I'm also curious to know what kind of a moronic search engine would send a slutty librarian searcher to me, but I'm really more interested to know what he (had to be a "he") thought. I hope he enjoyed his stay.
... Read the rest of "Searching Far and Wide"
- French – but as pointed out several times previously, not that snooty French from France but the far superior, rock’n’roll Québécois variety
- Spanish, although it has mostly faded away due to disuse
- A little Catalan – really!
- A little Swedish
- A little Danish – but it mostly comes out like Swedish (any comments? You know who you are. You know you wanna…)
- A little Dutch
- A little Hebrew – more than some prayers. I can speak enough for Israelis to understand what I’m saying and mock my accent, poor grammar, and practically non-existent vocabulary
When I was a kid I lived in Poland, but I cannot remember anything of the language. Going back didn’t bring anything back to me either. Too bad.
I can say “hello”, “good-bye”, “please”, “thank you”, and “Do you speak English/French/Spanish?” in several languages too, but if don’t speak them, they’re probably not real languages.
If you count wanting-to-learn-Arabic-because-it-is-so-amazingly-cool-sounding as a language, then I speak that too.
What do you speak?
... Read the rest of "Polly Gloat"
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Surprise! Still Snobby
The biggest dealie with this thing is that I can't make the comments work. I am wasting my brain cells doing that instead of wasting my brain cells finding out which fake, duplicitous person will win $1 000 000 on "Survivor". At least I am creative.
So as soon as I get the comments up, tell me what you think.
Soon everyones going to look like this. Snobby is cutting edge.
... Read the rest of "Surprise! Still Snobby"
Better than Aruba
ring ring ring
Mum: Is something wrong? I just talked to you yesterday.
Snobby: (Instantly exasperated) No! It's Mother's Day and I was just calling to say Happy Mother's Day.
Mum: Well it's a good thing you caught me. I'm on my way out and I can't talk all that long.
Snobby: Uh...ok...well, Happy Mother's Day.
Mum: Thank you! But since when do I care about some made-up holiday?
Snobby: I know! But all my friends are guilt tripping me because I say I don’t do anything special on Mother’s Day!
Mum: But I don’t care about Mother’s Day.
Snobby: That’s what I keep telling them! But they’re, like, buying cards and chocolates and special hundred-dollar bouquets they pre-ordered weeks ago. And Too Cute For His Own Good…remember him?
Mum: Yeah. He is cute.
Snobby: Well he’s taking his mother to Aruba for a week and I…
Mum: (Laughs) Can you imagine the two of us trapped to together on a beach for a week? Right.
Snobby: (Laughs) Well, no.
Mum: You tell your friends that I am just fine.
Snobby: I will, Mom.
Mum: Now I have to go. Your father’s been waiting in the car for me all this time and he’s starting to beep the horn. (Yells full blast straight into the receiver) I’m coming! Christ! (Returns to “inside” voice) He can’t hear me. We’re going to see an exhibit on 19th Century frontier kitchen implements at the Museum!
Snobby: (Ears still ringing) Uh…have fun.
Mum: We will! Thanks for calling. I love you.
Snobby: I love you too, Mom.
(Thanks to DC and, of course, to Mom for the inspiration for this entry)
... Read the rest of "Better than Aruba"
Saturday, May 08, 2004
In the Name of Love
Hot Dud: Hey.
Snobby: (Intrigued and a little aroused) Hey.
Hot Dud: I came over here 'cause I wanted to talk to your friend, but he looks kinda busy.
Snobby and Hot Dud survey Slut Kitten grinding against whomever’s closest somewhere near the dance floor.
Snobby: (No longer intrigued) Kinda.
Hot Dud: Hmmmm…(staring around the room despondently. Gives Snobby the once over and shrugs). You’re kinda cute, I guess.
Snobby: (No longer aroused, giving Hot Dud a smile he’s too stupid to interpret) Wow…thanks.
Hot Dud: No! I like totally mean it! I mean, yeah, I came over to check out your friend, but you’re cute too. Don’t worry (gives Snobby a reassuring pat on the shoulder, which lingers and begins to wander).
Hot Dud: You just need to get your hair cut. That 70s thing is like so…
Snobby: Oh no! You don’t like it?
Hot Dud: Ha! Ha! But I still think you’re kinda cute. (Slides his hand down to Snobby’s crotch)
Snobby: Do you enjoy use of your arm?
Hot Dud: Wha…?
Snobby: (giving Hot Dud a look he perfected when he taught English as a second language in Montreal) I said, “Do you enjoy use of your arm?”
Hot Dud: (removing wandering extremity) Wo….so sorry…
Snobby surveys the room for a cuter place to stand.
Hot Dud: So you wanna get going?
Snobby: (Bemused) You have got to be kidding.
Hot Dud: Dude, you have got to loosen up if you wanna get with me.
After the carnage, Snobby brushed off the little pieces that remained of Hot Dud's ego, got his coat and left, stopping to get a hot dog and to sing a rousing chorus of “Stop in the Name of Love” (complete with dance moves) with a very soused drag queen teetering on her stilettos on the corner of Church & Wellesley. He extends his sincerest apologies to the people who live on the corner of Church & Wellesley.
... Read the rest of "In the Name of Love"
Friday, May 07, 2004
Invent a memory of me and post it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it's something that's never happened. Then post this in your journal so that people can invent memories for you.
via jelly donut
... Read the rest of "Memories"
Thursday, May 06, 2004
... Read the rest of "Party Pooper"
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Beer, Buddah, & Buddha
Now, my usual response is to ask what a Jew looks like. I find this is a much better approach than what I did when I was younger. I would stammer as if I had been given a compliment and go on to explain that, genetically, half of me isn’t Jewish (which half?), thereby demonstrating how much I actually do fit in with normal, polite society. Now I ask what a Jew looks like and I wait to see what the response is.
Most people don't say this thing to me. The large majority of those who do have the good grace to realize they’ve said something slightly silly. With these ones I put on a ridiculous New York accent (“It’s like buddah!”) and talk about my father’s shnoz (admittedly, a significant one). It’s part gentle mockery and part silly comedy to put everyone back at ease.
Some, however, actually go on to describe to me in vivid detail what a Jew looks like. What they describe to me is invariably the image of a money-lender on some Nazi propaganda poster circa 1933. These are the people who often go on to describe with distaste their impressions of the Hassidim of Montreal’s Mile End neighbourhood or Toronto's Lawrence & Bathurst, for example, astonished that people could live in such a manner. Is it worth it for me to tell them that almost all of these people are the children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors and see a good reason to cloister themselves, to use a Christian term? I usually give them about 60 seconds to pull themselves out of the hole they’ve dug before I cut off any possibility of further communication. It’s just not worth it.
My good friend and occasional character in this blog Alef Alef is a Jew of Moroccan origin. He is often mistaken for an Arab, much to his bemusement. My friend Really Tired Mommy is an Ethiopian Jew and she really doesn’t look anything like that horrible character from Oliver Twist. And then there’s my mother, who converted to Judaism and is thoroughly Jewish, although she certainly doesn’t look Jewish. Actually, she’s a Buddhist now and she seems much happier. She doesn’t look Buddhist, either.
Then there’s my friend Works Too Much, an Arab of Syrian origin, who looks like one of the guys I used to play with in front of the synagogue when I was a kid and our parents got tired of our bored squirming during prayers. When I was over at his place last week I reminded him how Jewish he looks. He told me to stop "occupying" his couch. We then had a food fight. I think only and Arab and a Jew could play with this topic without it being distasteful.
So because I don’t look Jewish, I knew that the spate of graffiti in my elevator a few months ago, swastikas surrounded by writing in Arab script, wasn’t directed at me, tenant of apartment ####. But it was generally directed at me as a Jewish individual. When the spate first started (it lasted about a month), every time I took the elevator I felt as weak as I did when I was a kid and first realized what “jew” meant when used as a verb. Then I grew angry as it continued until I wanted to do like the Hassidim and cut myself off from all goyim (non-Jews) except when absolutely necessary. Finally it stopped and my anger faded. I never talked about it with my friends, even the Jewish ones, or family because I didn’t like the violent emotions it brought up in me.
And I also recognize that it is, thus far, a random occurrence and not evidence of some larger plot.
Besides, some of my best friends are goyische.
And so to the repugnant lush from last night who thought that telling me I don’t look Jewish would make me want to sleep with him, who then went on to tweak my nose and say that it didn’t look so big, I say that I may not look Jewish, but you certainly do look like a pathetic insect who is probably at this moment vomiting his guts out, whose beer I could barely restrain myself from spitting in when you weren’t looking. You seemed to think my language was too strong, but you’re really not worth the explanation. Other people are.
... Read the rest of "Beer, Buddah, & Buddha"
... Read the rest of "What?"
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
The Snobby Files
... Read the rest of "The Snobby Files"
Monday, May 03, 2004
Enjoy this instead (thanks to mikevil for alerting me to the update). The thing has nothing to do with the Blalkans and neither does mikevil, being Danish.
... Read the rest of "Balkanisms"
Sunday, May 02, 2004
... Read the rest of "Cold Chicken"
This is an abridged list of the things I’ve found wrong with the past 24 hours:
- It’s raining (screw that “April showers bring May flowers crap”. It’s May 2, already);
- While walking down the street with Urbaniteur-Franco-Ontarien yesterday afternoon, a car drove by and someone shouted out of it, “Faeries!” In downtown Toronto! In 2004! I almost flapped my gossamer wings and flew after the car to cast a hex on them (“I transform your Honda into a Pacer!” – taken from here). Instead I pretended it was funny. hahahaha…;
- I seem to be developing a cold, which does not jive with an encounter I’m supposed to have with a very cute guy this afternoon;
- I suffered from insomnia last night, which does not jive with…see above;
- For two days in a row my weekend hour-and-a-half of "The Simpsons" has been pre-empted for golf. Golf! It's more dreary than figure skating and curling combined!
- I lent my brolly to The British Diplomat last night and now it’s raining and I have no food in my house and I’m hungry and cranky and feeling sorry for myself for very little reason.
It’s all too horrible to truly comprehend, isn’t it.
But because life is fun, one serendipitous thing just happened to lighten my mood. My cat, whose name is Noudnic (nood-neek, meaning “pain in the butt” in Hebrew), just did something hilarious. He is absolutely entranced by things he cannot have, and so when I heard Splash! Crash! splop… splip… splop… splap… coming from the bedroom, I knew something feline was afoot. Sure enough, a creature resembling more a waterlogged otter than a cat appeared in the living room soon after. As it turns out, he had reached up my nightstand with his little kitty claws and knocked a plastic pint glass off that was almost completely full of water, and most of it got on him.
Now he’s sitting in one of the living room windows trying to look austere and sphinx-like. Yeah right, Noudnic. You meant to do it. You decided it was time to take a shower. Hahahahaha. Silly cat.
... Read the rest of "Scattered Showers"
Saturday, May 01, 2004
I went for supper with my excellent friends Alef Alef and Stressed-Out Doctoral Thesis-Writing Constitutional Lawyer at a Punjabi restaurant in the Annex. The food was little more than mediocre but I liked the feel of the restaurant so I’ll more than likely go back. We were amused when, in the middle of a conversation about composting (*sigh* aging lefties have the zaniest conversations), the super hot, smiley waiter broke in with a rambling lecture on Sikh dietary laws. It took us a little while to realize that he’d heard only the last little bit of my sentence, “basically anything organic but meat”, formed his own interpretation of our conversation, and decided to share. Until we'd figured out what had caused the lecture it was a little surreal for us, but it was interesting to get more than mere food at the restaurant. And I think I mentioned I thought the waiter was hot, as well.
So Alef Alef, ever the good friend interested in Snobby’s happiness and well-being, announced that he was of the opinion that the mini cultural seminar was directed mainly at me, in his opinion, and that this was because Super Sexy Waiter wanted to get to know me in all the various senses of the word. I pointed out that maybe it was directed at me because I was the only one who didn’t look bewildered at the non-sequitur and was actually attempting to engage him in conversation because he, I mean what he was saying, was interesting. Besides, I continued, Stressed-Out Doctoral Thesis-Writing Constitutional Lawyer was most likely more his type than I. Too bad for him her girlfriend would object.
Then I invited us all back to Alef Alef’s place for tea and cookies (Super Sexy Waiter couldn’t come). Tea and cookies? Composting? What has happened to me?!
So, after all that I don’t understand why I’m so cranky today. The caffeine is just making things worse. Now I’m cranky and jumpy. I’m beginning to get a glimpse of what kind of old man I’m going to be. I will have a cane and I will shake it at people. I will remove my dentures in public places just to disgust people. I will yell at teenagers to turn down that damn racket ferchrissake. I will call sales people “whippersnapper”. I will write fifteen letters to the editor a day (as opposed to the fifteen a month I write now) bemoaning the misuse of the semicolon, the invention of such words as “agendize”, or the use of “trend” and “transition” as verbs (which I admit to hating even at the tender age of late early thirties). I will be a lot of fun.
But anyways, I should try to snap out of it since I’m spending the afternoon shopping for DVD players with Urbaniteur-Franco-Ontarien (for him, not for me; I am poor’n’unemployed) and then supper with The British Diplomat somewhere cheap in Little Italy. Must find Snobby Charm. Maybe it’s at the bottom of my coffee cup.
... Read the rest of "Curmudgeon"