At Least My Sickbed is Comfortable.

[Note: This entry, I'll admit, is from a while ago. It seems I was too deliriously sick to actually post the damned thing.]

I’ve been struck down by a mighty flu. It’s terrible, but could be worse. I have a fever, hot and cold sweats, and pain all over my body. Oh, the pain! But on the plus side, there is no vomiting or any “south of the border” issues. I’m on day two of being confined to my bed and, when not sleeping, am bored out of my mind.

To pass the time, I have:

…joined Twitter. I fear I am not witty enough on a regular basis for it, but enjoy the tweets of the celebrities I’m “following”.

…written and angry rant about e-readers. See previous post.

…watched the second season of Modern Family. That show is simply wonderful.

…begun rewriting my life list. I’ve alluded to the life list before as something I started but never finished. However, this time it’s personal and the damn thing will be completed. I fear my foggy, pill-ridden, flu brain may have resulted in some questionable entries.

Typing hurts me. Over and out.

[Post-sickness update: It's true, I am not witty on a frequent-enough basis to actively "tweet", but I still enjoy the wit of others (Ellen Barkin is a fucking entertaining mess). Modern Family is still awesome. My life list is at 73! Only 27 more to go!!]

In Defense of the Book

When I saw Disney’s Beauty and the Beast for the first time, I took two thoughts away from it:

1) When Beast showed Belle into the castle’s library: “Ohmigawd! I want that!”

2) When Beast was finally returned to his human form: “Aw man, he’s not hot at all. Someone needs a nose job.”

There are many things I want out of life, some attainable (a puppy!) and some not (telekinesis!!). But one thing I’ve always wanted, and will have, is my own library. A room dedicated to books! Just imagine!

I love, love, love reading and try to read at least one book per week. Some weeks I’m successful, some weeks I’m drunk. But dammit, I try! I love the feeling of books, of the pages between my fingers. I love getting lost in a world someone else has created and imagining what the characters and locations look like. I even love that weird smell that every used bookstore has. I can’t go into a bookstore without walking out with a new book. Needless to say, I have quite a collection going. But my books don’t have a room of their own. And everyone needs a room of one’s own, not just female authors.

(I also love alphabetizing my books, but that may be due to an undiagnosed case of OCD.)

So you can imagine my horror at the introduction of “e-readers” into our world. I loathe these little machines. Don’t we have enough electronics to carry around with us already? At this rate, we’ll all be sterile within ten years from the waves shooting through the air.

And so, my top 5 reasons why e-readers need to go the way of the Dodo:

5. You can tell a lot about a person from their bookshelves. Are there mostly fiction books (oooh, creative and imaginative), non-fiction (well hello, Mr. Intellectual), textbooks (student), fantasy (nerd). Imagine going over to someone’s home, looking at their shelves, and seeing books by Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck, or only Harlequin Romances. Take it as the warning sign it is and get the fuck outta there! An e-reader can hide the worst of sins, and will make your home look empty.

4. Judgment of strangers in public; affirmation of self-worth. Look at what people are choosing to read in view of others, and feel superior. To the man on the subway reading The DaVinci Code I say “Pfft! Read a real book!”; to the woman in the park reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo I say “You're about two years too late for that bandwagon. Good book though.”; to the poser carrying around On the Road I say “Fucking poser”. Nowadays I can’t tell if someone is reading Charles Dickens or Lauren Conrad and this concerns me. I imagine it’s how people felt in the 50s, worrying there were communists in their midst.

3. What happens if you drop that thing? Does it shatter like so many broken dreams? What if it falls in a puddle? You’re screwed then, I bet. And before you start, I know that books can fall victim to similar fates. Most of them can bounce back from it, but not always. I once dropped a copy of Stephen King’s It into a pool. I tried to salvage it, letting it dry in the sun for days. Unfortunately, it swelled to twice its thousand-page-plus size and was unmanageable at best. But you know what? That book cost me twenty-five goddamn cents at a garage sale. Not a huge deal.

2. Lending! I heart introducing a friend to an awesome book. To know one book has passed through so many hands, delighting people along the way. I imagine you can connect two e-readers and download “books” back and forth, but is that really the same? Will you read that book and think about the person who gave it to you? I think not.

1. A book you love should be scarred with that love. I’ve read some of my favourite books so many times that they are literally falling apart. My Great Expectations actually did fall apart! There is nothing like holding a beat up old book in your hands, the edges of the dog-eared pages softened with years of turning; the spine cracked open to your favourite parts; the cover battered from years of being shoved into bags, tossed onto a beach towel, left in the sun, dropped on the subway. An e-reader will never, ever be as endearing or mean as much lying on your bedside table as a book you love. A book should look like this:

So, to sum up: Fuck you, e-readers.

Oh, dear.

Well, it seems I am the worst blogger ever. This is why I can't have plants or pets; they would die slow, painful deaths while I completely forgot about their existence.

But I recently remembered the password to get in here, so I’m back in the game! Stay tuned.

Hot Damn!

There will be no soul searching today. No complaining, griping, whining, or any other synonyms.

Instead, we will focus on the beauty of life, the things that make it worth getting up in the morning. Yes, I am talking about hot guys.

And with no further ado, here is my Top Ten List of Celebrity Hotness (in a very particular order):

10. Nicholas Brendon (aka. Xander)

Why Him? Buffy is like crack to me - I can't get enough of it and always want more, more, more. And Xander is, quite simply, dreamy. A bit nerdy, totally unaware of his hotness, dumb. That is one of the great combinations indeed. However, alcohol seems to have made him puffy in recent years, hence his placement at the bottom of this list.

9. Robert Pattinson

Why him? Sure Lautner has the killer abs while R-Patz has to have his painted on. And yes, that face seems weird from certain angles. But the devil may care attitude combined with the refusal to clean his hair equals and enticing cocktail for yours truly. His recent haircut has somehow only increased his hotness, which I don't understand since that hair was just incredible.

8. Paul Walker

Why him? We need a blonde in here somewhere and no one is a truer blonde that Mr. Walker. He seems like he may be the dumbest man alive, and that only makes me want him more. While not someone you want hanging around in the morning, how great would it be to hold your fingers up to his lips and say "Shhhh. Just take your clothes off."?

7. Adam Brody

 

Why Him? I love a hot nerd, and there is no hotter nerd than Seth Cohen. In addition, he rocked the guyliner like nobody's business in the train wreck that was Jennifer's Body. I'm a sucker for guyliner.

6. Josh Duhamel

 

Why him? He's sex on a stick, baby. No further explanation is necessary.

5. Zachary Quinto

Why him? For the "man" factor. He is one hairy, hairy dude and I love, love, love it. The eyebrows are out of control in such a controlled manner. I cannot comprehend. And the chest hair! Quinto, or "Hot Spock" as he is known around here, is a total win.

4. Jensen Ackles

Why him? Uh, have you seen Supernatural? His Dean is such a douchebag, but a sensitive douchebag who cries a lot. Like a surprising amount. Ackles is the kind of guy who doesn't beat around the bush. You just know he's the throw 'em down and fuck 'em kind of guy. To that, I say sign me up.

3. Penn Badgley

Why him? (Note: Penn gets two pictures to showcase his two very different looks). Were do I begin? The cheekbones, the pouty lips, and the hair on the chest all add up to a undeniable hotness factor. His gaze just screams sex.

2. Chris Evans

Why him? Evans is the quintessential boy next door. Classic looks, a killer body, and seems like he's actually (gasp) a nice guy. And really, just look above. A picture truly is worth a thousand words.

1. Milo Ventimiglia

Why him? It all began with his turn as bad boy Jess on Gilmore Girls. He was so wrong for Rory, but so right for me. Some are annoyed by his twisty mouth and cocky grin. Not me! And hot damn, look at those arms!

Ready...Set...Go?

The Job has really been grating on my nerves this month. I’ve been contemplating finding a new one, but have no idea what I may want to do. Remember when you were a child and the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” was the best question ever? The whole gamut of options was available to you, like a buffet of every food ever. But when did that same question become one that makes me want to curl up in the fetal position covered in my own sick?

I suppose the first step is to define “grown up”. When does one become a grown up? Is it a conscious choice, or do we wake up one day and realize we’re old and used up? Is it through the gathering of belongings, and with that, debt? The evolution of one’s beliefs and priorities? Is it the mark you make on the lives of others, good or bad? And what does it mean if I have an RRSP but still get blackout drunk? If I have my own apartment but could easily spend an entire weekend watching Golden Girls and feel it was well worth the time?

How the fuck should I know?

So let’s move on to step two: finding out what you want to do. How do people do this? Almost everyone I know is either in the job they went to school for and wanted or are in school on their way to doing what they love. I look at them and ask myself “What were you thinking majoring in English and minoring in Art History? How did you NOT know things would turn out this way?!” But even if I could go back and fix my ill-advised schooling choices, I don’t know what I would replace them with.

One of my favourite questions to ask people is “If money were not an issue and you could have any job in the world, what would it be?” For me, the answer is “Movie Stunt Man”. Because that shit would be off the hook. But I fear it may not be realistic.

So, to summarize: When will I grow up? No idea. What do I want to do? No idea.

Long story short, all of the above led me to the conclusion that I need to rewrite my resume and start pounding the pavement, for better or for worse. This, of course, led me to the indisputable fact that resume writing is the worst thing in the world. And before you jump all over me, I know there are things that you could argue are worse. Like syphilis or genocide. But that is an argument you would only make if you weren’t actively writing your resume.

And then, in the midst of my ennui, came the big news. My boss is preggers and word on the street has it that I’m the one people are looking to take over as manager when she goes on maternity leave. Those fools! I’m not sure how to feel about this. On one hand, it means my hellish job will only get more hellish. On the other hand, it could be a whole helluva lot more cash for me. I guess I’ll have to wait to find out what’s really going on. I’m betting that since it would mean a whole helluva lot more money, there’s no way in hell it will happen (our big boss would make Scrooge look generous. I mean, before Scrooge saw the error of his ways and became generous).

We’ll see. But while we’re waiting it’s time to write this thang. 

Mea Culpa

Dearest Blog,

Please accept my humble apologies. I’ve been ignoring you. You seemed like such a good idea in the beginning; our world was full of hope and promise. But now, you remind me of the Chia Pet I tried to grow, or the time I vowed to teach myself to play the guitar. You’re nothing but a symbol of my failure to follow through on my life plans. 

My guitar sits dusty and unloved in my closet and is a shame known only to myself. But you – YOU’RE out here on the internet for anyone to see. A big, gleaming beacon of my laziness.

I don’t know what to tell you. I could lie and say that life has been “crazy” and I haven’t had time. In actuality, I recently acquired seasons 1 and 2 of Gossip Girl on DVD and that’s pretty much taken priority over everything else.

Obviously, as evidenced by my infatuation with spoiled Upper East Side teens, my whole “change your life!” scheme is not unfolding as I thought it would. But really, who was I kidding?

Here is a list of things I have begun, with high hopes, and soon after let fall by the wayside:

• The aforementioned self-made guitar guru dream. I can still only play the first ten seconds of Nirvana’s “Come As You Are”. It’s been two years.  
• Learning Spanish. 
• Budgeting. 
• Learning to properly fold a fitted sheet (that shit is hard!). 
• Creating a life list of 100 things to do before I die. It’s like a bucket list, but not named after a terrible movie. And I only got to 34.

And what are we to learn from this? Nothing, I suppose. The only thing I’ve learned this week is that Penn Badgley is stupid hot. But it was a lesson well worth learning.

I’ll try to be better, Blog. But I promise nothing.

A Little About Me

Well here we are, just meeting for the first time. Sure, we have smiles on our faces and our best open minded look in our eyes. But really, all we’re thinking is “What’s your deal, freak?” Welcome to our awkward first date. I should tell you up front that we’re going dutch.

And without further ado, here's a little glimpse into me:

• I am in my mid- to late-twenties, directionless and normally okay with it.

• I like reading, writing, and movies. Also, I’m totally unique.

• I have managed to build a rewarding career doing what I love and am paid handsomely for it. Nope, wait…that’s a guy I know. I’m an office drone. My days are filled with paper cuts, daydreams, and feigning interest in printer toner-related problems. The best thing about my job is that no one monitors our internet usage (Or do they…?).

• On the Kinsey Scale, I’m a 6. A 6 is “exclusively homosexual”. 6 out of 6: It’s a perfect score!

• I have a degree, but it’s of the Bachelor of Arts variety. This is also known as a waste of time and money.

• One of my favourite things is when a stranger “likes” something funny I said on Facebook. It validates my existence.

Nothing is ever so sad as seeing a person reduced to a series of bullet points, is it?

A New Year, A New You

For me, the first significant event of 2011 was putting my hand in a big pile of dog shit while puking on a sidewalk. It was at that point that I started to think things needed to change. Actually, that thought came when the drunk wore off; my actual thought at the time was "Oh NO! Dog shit!!"

And then, today, I came to the crushing realization that I hate my job. And not in that way that everyone hates their job, but in that "absolutely fucking loathe" kind of way. Like the Suck Kut of Wayne's World, this job is sucking my will to live. Oh, the humanity indeed.

Somewhere along the way, unbeknownst to me, my life went off the rails. I was simply along for the ride, content in my simpleminded belief that things would eventually work themselves out. But no more.

But what to do? Start a blog, of course!

And why? Well, because I'm sure there are tons of people out there who would want to read about me. I know it's my favourite subject, so it must be yours. Right? Also, this is easier than volunteering somewhere and cheaper than therapy.

So this is where it all begins. I shall chronicle my quest towards a fulfilling, worthwhile existence. No stone will be left unturned, no flaw hidden. I may never fully know what happened on New Year's Eve but, dammit, I will know myself!

[Full disclosure: I am listening to More Abba Gold while I write about becoming a more enlightened individual. This may not work out as I planned...]