happy x-mas!!!!


For the record . . . I am not crying at the end there, my sister cut the recording before I could turn to the camera and say something hardcore.

Also, if you listen really hard you can hear us screaming 'happy birthday Jesus' as we run in.


Barefoot on the beach - Christmas eve 2007

In honor of the little baby Jesus, a polar bear dip will be held tomorrow at around 11 am at Willows Beach.


The Beach

The beach was cool, but not as awesome as originally anticipated as it was raining.

There were slimy things on the beach.

There were also whip shaped pieces of kelp that when held in a threatening manner made one feel like Indiana Jones!


After 6 months of being alone most of the time, getting used to having people around is weird and sometimes embarassing. . . Like, forgetting to close the bathroom door whilst taking a midnight tinkle . . . I had no idea that my little brother's face could achieve such an interesting shade of red.

In other news, making fun of Harry Potter is amusing . . .


Georgia O'keeffe

Today's adventure was brought to us by the vancouver art gallery. because I have never played nice with others and insist on deciding everything we do on this vacation.


Until today I was only vaguely aware of O'Keeffe's work, I knew that she was an american abstract painter and that she had painted a few flowers that looked like vaginas (because all flower paintings do). But walking through the gallery and seeing her work all together, and with more context, I started wondering why she hadn't grabbed my interest before.

There is something amazing about seeing a painting in person that you had admired in print, it almost feels more intimate. . . Her technique is amazing, I had no idea of just how amazing until I was able to get up close and personal with the canvases an see each brush stroke clearly.

seeing a larger collection of her work all together also helped me to better understand the work I was already familiar with, I always thought that the Bold colours and contrasts in her work reflected a boldness and confidence in the artist, but as I looked closer at the collection, I noticed, that while the colours are bold and the contrasts often stark, there is an undeniable bleakness that comes through as well.

I also didn't know that she worked in other mediums.

Her photography revealed more of the same bleakness of the paintings, but also a wicked and sarcastic sense of humor.

She also sculpted apparently, I wasn't as impressed with the sculpture, to me it read as a mere exercise or experiment of positive and negative space, and I guess that description is one that could be used to describe almost any sculpture, which is why my not being able to describe it any other way disappointed me.

Also currently showing at the vancouver art gallery, is a collection by London film maker Mark Lewis. His exhibit was outrageously funny and left me with a huge smile on my face. two of his works really stand out in my mind.

one was a 4 minute silent film that started focused on a large tree, then zoomed out to focus on the building behind it, very slowly the shot moves in and starts to focus on one of the windows. and the whole time you're thinking that this is either going to be very creepy or have some horribly tired statement about nature vs civilization or something. but instead there is a naked woman. . . I guess that could count as creepy, but it's done in such a way that makes it funny.

the other is called 'the pitch' and features the artist standing in a train station talking about Extras and the amazing work they do as people walk around him. it isn't until about half way through, when he started talking about making a movie of all extras called 'extra extra' that I started to realize that the goings on were a little too good to be true, and the people in the station are all hired extras.

Of coarse the Emily Carr exhibit on the fourth floor was visited, but I've seen it before so it wasn't as exciting. . .

There was also an original Andy Warhol there . . . I am not really a huge fan of "Pop art" but it was kind of cool (as with the Emily Carr and Georgia O'Keeffe exhibits) to stand in front of it and think that this thing that you are standing a foot away from was created by that artist's hands. . . but I only have thoughts like that because I am a huge dork.


I Fufilled a Childhood Dream Today

The Vancouver Aquarium was fucking awesome, I was so excited that I couldn't help but run around wildly, and insist of looking at every exhibit at least twice.

not only was there marine life, but they had snakes, bats, birds and a SLOTH!!! I took hundreds of awesome pictures too.

Apparently animals like me.

I made friends with a sea turtle, who followed me as I walked back and forth in front of the glass.

The Anaconda, which hadn't moved in the twenty minutes that some little kid was waiting , lifted it's head and looked right at me when I walked up.

One of the birds, a green amazon parrot, was showing off for me and talking with me for a half an hour and then tried to follow me out of the exhibit.

And my favorite part of the day, and the part that totally made all of my dreams come true was when the littlest of the 4 white sided dolphins kept coming up to the window and touching it's nose to my hand and dancing and snapping with me. . . of coarse as soon as I turned on the video camera, she stopped doing cute things and just started looking at me.

We went shopping on Granville Island after that, I had lots of fun running around the market and checking out of the cool local artist galleries. I even got a chance to check out the Emily Carr art school (the student art displays were horribly pretentious and boring but it was fun none-the-less).

needless to say I am freekin-A tired. but there is no rest for the wicked. . . we're off to see a light show in the harbour and take a walk through the Van Dusen gardens.


trashy romance, really how hard could it be? rofl

Today I took a leisurely stroll to the corner store where I perused the cheesy romance section looking for a half assed Christmas gift for my grandmother, who likes to read but would not know good literature if it came up and smacked her in the face. . .

new career plan: write horribly cliche book about a helpless and petite woman who meets a big sweaty naked man and make an honest living off of desperate old women who long to recapture the 'satisfaction' of their youth.

My characters will have boring old names like, Mable and . . . I don't know, let's call the guy Lenny . . . and they will have lots of sex in scenes that somehow avoid using words like, penis, or vagina . . . and you can forget about the clitoris, because in the perfect world of trashy romance, women can be brought to orgasm within minutes without any extra effort put in by their sexual partners. . . only for some reason the word orgasm is not aloud either.

What it really needs is a good opening line, something short and to the point that will get my reader's attention, and make a promise, or suggestion of things to come, of coarse, I will have no intention of fulfilling this promise, cause we all know that with trashy romance novels, it's all about the tease.

the favorite of today's slogging through this shit was the opening line from some 200 page piece of crap about a maiden and a warrior which read "she hadn't come" which sounded really dirty, but because we all know that orgasms never get lost in romance novels, turned out to be about some dude getting stood up at a secret meeting place.

Of coarse, even old people enjoy the taste of forbidden fruit, so Mable and Lenny, who will have decided that they are desperately in love with each other within minutes of meeting, will find themselves kept apart by some sort of external force.

Then there will be fifty pages or so of depression and longing, during which time they will concoct a plan to run off together on a pirate ship. But surely we cannot explore the awesomeness that may come from a story about a pirate ship, because the last fifty pages must consist of more unrealistic sex and passionate declarations of undying love.

Then maybe, just to spice it up, their will be more sex.

I think it will be a best seller.

Though, before I even think about the best sellers list, I need to think of a good pen name. . . because honestly, who the hell would put their own name on this stuff?

I wonder if there is some sort of way to find your 'trashy romance pen name', like how you find your porn name by combining the name of a childhood pet with the street you grew up on.

like, I don't know, combining the last name of your gynecologist with the first name of your great grandmother's best friend. surely that would create a name that would make you sound old, so that the women buying this trash would feel as though you could really connect with them.

Good Lord, one day, when I am one of those women, I am going to look back at this and cry.


poor personal safety decisions

There are certain facts in life that one comes to rely on to get them through most situations the world presents to us.

These facts are compiled over the coarse of a lifetime, and stored in, what I like to call, the "personal safety decisions" part of a persons brain, some examples include:

Don't fuck with the bees

You can't beat gravity

Never pet a burning dog.

Skinny dipping in a lightning storm is NEVER a good idea.

. . .

You get the idea.

Today I learned a valuable lesson, and was able to add an item to my list. . .

Spontaneously rearranging heavy furniture on less than 2 hours of sleep is an activity that should be approached with extreme caution and with adult (possibly medical) supervision.


gifts are grand!!!

Knuckle toes gave me a gift today!

it's a list book!

I love to write lists, lists make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They give me a false sense of order in the chaos that I sometimes call my life. And, no matter how false that sense is, it is comforting none-the-less.

The first list in a new book is always important to me, so the moment she gave it to me I cracked it open and compiled a list of lists.

the most awesome part of this list book is the cover, as it reminds me that mother nature likes order too . . . every month like clock work she makes my cunt bleed and my emotions go crazy as if to mock me. . . hats off to you, and thank's for the pleasure, you cranky old bitch!


yay food

I went out for tasty Ethiopian food with Happy Pappy and 1/2 of the dork-squad last night.

It was oh so yummy in my tummy!

I tried very hard to not eat the whole dish so that I could bring home left overs, but it was just too good.

Dork #1 (aka my brother) totally gets some kind of award for making me laugh so hard that yam came out my nose. I haven't laughed like that in quite a while.

Knuckle Toes also gets an award today! it's the 'Least Politically Correct Sarcastic Bitch' award.

(I would have made you a graffic, but I am also giving myself a 'worst ms paint user ever' award. feel free to check out my attempt...)

I meant to give her this ages ago but forgot about it until my spicy Yam and fermented pancake reminded me that her only thoughts about Cityville getting an Ethiopian restaurant were 'I didn't know they had food in Ethiopia'. (you can't believe everything Bono tells you dearest!)

Several other's have made similar jokes, but this combined with offhanded comments about killing child labourers for faulty clothing, and suggesting that mentally retarded people make cheep and effective menial job workers, makes her my favorite sarcastic bitch in the whole wide world.

At least I hope she'd being sarcastic when she says these things.


this post is totally pointless

Sam Waterson on the Colbert report. . . I think I just creamed in my pants. . . I LOVE YOU JACK McCOY!!!!

I’ve been thinking more and more lately that there is something incredibly wrong with me. There is absolutely no reason for a relatively intelligent and outgoing young woman to get this excited about some old guy on TV. except that he's the most awesome old guy on TV!

On another note I just noticed that Stephen Colbert’s ears are uneven, and it’s kinda freekin me out.


it turns out my mother was right about TV

this comes as a surprise to me as, even at the age of 21, i still cling to the childish delusion that she is not cool enough to be right about anything.

but she was right about too much TV fucking a child up.

my brother and i started watching the x-files behind my mother's back when i was ten. i think it started as a kind of chicken game to see who would get freaked out enough to cover their eyes first. . . it was always me. . . i spook too easily.

one way or another though, i got addicted, and abandoned captain planet and the smoggies for the x-files as my one hour of TV per week. . . i think of it as a kind of 'coming of age' in my life.

yet while i remember idolizing agent scully, and lusting after agent mulder (which may or may not have been the beginning of my being drawn to tall, dark, complex, older men) i remembered little to nothing about the actual story lines.

I've recently started watching all of the old episodes online during my study breaks, and all of my inexplicable fears have been suddenly explained.

for example. . .

my irrational nervousness about using the bathroom (eat your heart out Freud) can be traced to a number of x-files episodes, like, the giant half fluke worm half man monster that lives in the jersey sewer system and at one point escapes capture and crawls into a porta-potty to hide. or the episode where an ancient sea monster is washed up in a storm and lives in the pluming of a survivor shelter. or the poltergeist behind the shower curtain in another episode. . .

my embarrassing fear if Dumpsters is more than likely due to the episode where the wild women jumps out of a dumpter to attack a homeless man, or a much later episode where the garbage monster of suburbia kills people in the night for falling out of line.

cornfields, especially at night have always freaked me out, and while i can't pinpoint this to any one episode, scenes taking place near or in cornfields never end happily

power outages, while i don't believe in alien abduction because i think it's dumb that aliens would travel all that way to put on a light show and stick things up our bums and noses, whenever the power goes out or the radio does something funky i always get these images in my head of brightly lit rooms and surgical implants.

the really sad part about all of this, is that it all still freaks the hell out of me even now that i know where i got it from, and that perhaps in spit of myself i am still hell bent on watching all these episodes that give me nightmares. . . this time without covering my eyes, or my brother nearby to use as a decoy in case of monster attack.

PS: i am not sure if whether to credit my parents or the x-files with the icy terror in my heart right now over certain little fascists in black suits who want to privatize everything. . . actually i am pretty sure that's just common sense.


safe sex and german engineering

OMG CSi was right!
so now that my entire understanding of the universe has done a one eighty, and i've come to terms with it. . .

as everyone who knows me knows, i have the biggest hard-on ever for cheesy crime drama and zombies. . . not necessarily in that order or at the same time(though that would be hot). . . . but i digress, my point is that not everything they show on CSI is bogus, featured on tonight's season premier of CSI: New York. . . this amazing new feat of German engineering (see image f-me69)

that's right people, safe sex can now be brought to you in a nifty looking aerosol can! and of coarse by safe i mean hasn't quite been tested to any sort of standards and is not yet available to consumers. . .

i just have to say that i have a whole new respect for German scientists, who, it seams, have moved past the personal get pack pipe-dream and have started focusing on something useful!

but it gets better!
while this new invention is currently being marketed as an aerosol can, there is apparently talk about an 'all encompassing' design. . . i got this quote from a questionably reputable source (aka some condom consultant)

"It works by spraying on latex from nozzles on all sides," he said. "We call it the '360 degree procedure' - once round and from top to bottom. It's a bit like a car wash."

apparently this design has something to do with inserting the penis into a pressurized container of some sort. . . i don't have a penis, but if i did, not only would it be the biggest in the world, but i am not sure i would want it inserted into anything with a 'contents under pressure' warning on it.

what i like most about the current can design is that if a guy absolutely insists on not wearing protection, the can itself is conveniently shaped for proving just how much you don't care about his pleasure.

further questions of interest: 1) does it wash off? peal off? i am curious about that. 2) wouldn't there be some sort of health ramifications for the sexual partner if it didn't dry completely before penetration? i mean honestly, could you really make some drunk guy wait a minute to let it dry when it's hard enough to convince them to stop and put on a real condom in the first place? more trouble than it's worth i am thinkin! 3) does it come flavoured? ribbed for her pleasure? or any of the other traditional condom styles?

i would like to point out at this juncture in time that i am aware that i giggle way too much at matters of sexual health. (see previous post on action packed pregnancy testing)


i am having issues

writing problems, i hate them, but there they are, bothering the hell out of me all the time.

there are times where i can get an assignment and have a ready to hand in 2 page paper within an hour or two. . . and then there are nights like these, when i have a very good thesis floating around my brain that just doesn't seam to want to come quietly and take it's place on the paper.

and as we can tell from that last paragraph my thesis isn't the only though that refuses to come out right.

i think my logic exam took a lot out of me this morning.
it was kind of multiple choice, which should have been easy, just a bunch of short arguments in which we had to identify antecedent, consequence and major premise, then state whether it was valid or invalid depending on whether or not the premise. . . . blah blah blah I've gone cross eyed. . . anyways, most of my answers used the same formula, and i don't know if i fucked up or if he wrote it that way to try and fuck us up.

. . . long story short, i am blaming that for my current writer's block for as many illogical reasons as i can find just to spite it.


does anyone agree that taking your boyfriend to a 'crab shack' and then refusing to be photographed with him is a really cruel way to tell him you've figured out his secret?

god. . . even (perhaps especially) that was lame


and then a bird shit on me

welcome to the official log of pocket buddha's terrible, no good, horrible, very bad day.

disclaimer: the following post is just a huge bitch fest, it may or may not make any sense, and anyone reading may or may not care, i am just putting it out there.

it all started at about 6 am, i rolled out of bed and called my dad's house. (i've been having printer set up issues and have been using my dad's as he lives a few blocks away and on my way to the bus stop) My brother answered the phone, 'brother' i said 'tell dad when he gets out of the shower that i need him to open up his e-mail so i can print off an assignment i sent him when i get there'.
now, anyone who has siblings, younger, older, it doesn't seem to matter, but anyone who has siblings can tell you that entrusting my little brother with this task was my first mistake of the day.

when i got there a half hour later, after finding out that my favorite pair of pants have an unexplainable tear over the right rear pocket, i just caught my father as he was leaving the house.
'father' i said 'did you open up your e mail so i can print off my assignment?'
'what assignment?' he said to me.
after letting out a frustrated groan i took a deep breath and shook it off. . . and i think if you ask around you would know that my shaking off anything doesn't really happen very often and should therefore be taken as a good sign right?

wrong. my father, being a very helpful man, apparently didn't have the time to go into the house and let me print, but he did have the time to offer me a ride to school, which is in the opposite direction he needed to go.
but, when i got there with an hour and a half until my first class i had plenty of time to find a computer and printer that i could get to so early in the morning and print my assignment, not to mention the thousand other things i had intended on getting done that day.

my second mistake of the day was forgetting that i am an idiot.

i forgot my wallet, so exchanging the usb cable to get my own printer up and running was out of the picture. also in my wallet was my student id, something they apparently want you to have when you ask to use a printer, which is news to me, i always thought it was just for taking things out of the library. and most of all i forgot my pen, so the homework i was planning on finishing up before class was a lost cause, which is fine because the time slot i had for this activity was taken up by me back tracking across campus to find out where i put my binder down.

when i finally did find a computer i could use without anyone bugging me. there was no printer. so in the 'there's twenty minutes until my class' mentality i simply attached it to an e mail and sent it to my prof with a long apology for the unexpected e mail and that i would print him a hard copy for class on friday.

i guess that wasn't good enough because i got a sharp reply within a few minutes telling me that assignments submitted that way would not be accepted again and that there were printers available for my use in the library. . . . another frustrated groan. . . a deep breath. . . i had just enough time for a well deserved cigarette before class.

and then a bird shit on me.

on top of all that, i found more information on the 'people i thought were my friends' front, and found out from some random stranger who apparently got the impression that i am a snob just because i am smarter than him and i stated as much, that no one else takes me as seriously as i would like to believe. . . not something that would usually phase me, but it was just one of those days. and i was inclined to believe him as i had bird shit on me.

whoever said that the bullshit that happens in high school doesn't happen in university can suck a big fat cock. because everywhere i look i am either being attacked by people who don't fucking know me, or stabbed in the back by people i thought i knew.

i think i am all done now. . .

Don't save whales, save pandas




i would like to think that i got myself out of my writing jitters with my first writing assigment. i may be bias; acctually i am kind of hoping i havn't because this is the scale that i will be measured against for the rest of the simester. . . .

‘Thoughts on English literature’
English 100 co5
R. Obrigewitsch

Literature has always gained a lot of my respect in that it seams to be the strongest, and most long lasting of the major art forms. While others may argue with me on this point, and they would be welcome to do so; I have always felt that the intimacy an author has with their reader is what keeps literature a relevant art form. Of coarse, all art forms have their unique attraction; theatre has the added exhilaration of being a shared experience, but is fleeting in that it lasts only within the time and place it was performed. visual art has boundless potential for exploring our physical world, but can lack a clarity that many crave. Literature, on the other hand, has a timeless quality that entices it’s audience to carefully inspect and savour all the different levels and meanings that the author has left behind. The attraction is that this assessment is often done in solitude, giving us the freedom to interpret the author’s words in a very personal way

ok, it may suck, i know, but you try summing up your experience with english literature in one paragraph.


first day of school

before i say anything, i would like to say to knuckle toes that, yes, i did take time out of my night to lay out my clothes for the first day, and yes i did change my mind five times the next morning before leaving the apartment, so laugh all you want but i looked hot!!

anyways, the first day was lame and glorious all at the same time.
lame because i was lost and overwhelmed for most of the day, but glorious because even though i was lost and overwhelmed i was not sitting in my apartment watching TV wondering if it was too early to go have a beer at local pub. (although i did hit the campus bar and the welcome week beer gardens after class)

i wasn't joking about the overwhelmed bit though. . . i remember thinking in theatre arts that i was going to die if i worked any harder. . . my theatre coarse load alone this semester is double, and even without a production i have three other classes to juggle with it, all of which are medium to heavy on the work load. . . why i didn't think to balance it all out with a bogus class like. . . music appreciation or something i'll never know. (i would, at this point like to apologize to anyone who may want to flame me for that thoughtless joke about music appreciation)

the reason why this is especially overwhelming for me at the moment is that, with all the time i took off school it seams i've forgotten how to write 'good'. by which i mean i am finding that i cannot produce semi-intelligent sounding bullshit at as fast a rate as i used to be able to.

my new/old friend (old acquaintance/new friend) has assured me that it's like riding a bike.

so, in keeping with that analogy i am going to take a practice lap around the block and write a random 2-3 page essay type dealy before getting started on the papers due a week and a half from now.

somebody give me a topic!! anything, i don't care, just something.


Pregnancy Test

this is possibly the funniest commercial i have ever seen.

somehow i never put pregnancy tests and the action movie voice together in my head but clearly it's a match made in heaven.

this is what happens when women write commercials for women instead of men who think they know what women want. i am honestly thinking about taking a test just for shits and giggles.



this weekend was pretty hectic. but Sunday, oddly enough is the day that sticks out in my mind.

i spent the entire day with family. i don;t do that enough. after a day of shopping with the 'rents and dinner and movies i took my brother out for some bonding time.

we played trivia at local pub. I always knew my brother was a smart kid, but until that day i had no idea that he was smarter than i am.

i knew that he knew more about South American politics and history, and i know that he can kick my ass at sport trivia any day. but i had no earthly idea that he had a better grip on logical thinking.

this is the kid that i could talk into eating disgusting concoctions, jumping out of trees, giving me all of his allowance and doing my chores. . . apparently he's grown quite a bit while i wasn't looking.

i think that my bro and i should hang out more. . . in fact i am thinking about making Sundays brother and me day.


I hate cityville

well, that's not entirely true.
i hate cityville the same way everyone else in cityville hates it, in that i hate it but am always oddly relieved to be back when I've been away.

tonight though the hatred is more that it's usual minor annoyance.

tonight it quite literally stinks.

don't get me wrong, the usual odour of this place is not all that pleasant, but i am used to it, and get a kick out of out of town visitors scrunching their noses and breathing through their mouths when they tell you it's a beautiful city.

every so often though, when the wind is coming from such and such a direction at certain times of year the smell factor goes from an unpleasant 5 to an unbearable 10. tonight is one of those nights, and because i am quite sure that some Deity somewhere is laughing at me from high atop the whatever. these nights always coincide with the days I've left my windows wide open.

so now my apartment smells funny, and no amount of incense or candles seam to be helping.

so now i can't sleep.

at least narcoleptic puppy doesn't have the same problem.


shout out to nannies!

I have a confession to make.

it's not one that is easy to make, but i feel as though i have come to a place in my life where i have the confidence that my true friends will stay with me even after the general public scorns me.

i am a tabloid reader.

not that i actually spend money on said tabloids. No, it's far worse than that. I am one of those horrible people who hold up the line at the corner store reading the latest news about Brangelina's small army of children, Paris Hilton's latest jail break, and just how fat Rosie O'Donnell is now. i do this at about 3pm, downtown, while people are trying to buy a candy bar, eat it, have a cigarette and bolt back to work within the time constraints of a fifteen minute coffee break.

but now that i have that out of the way i can talk about what's really been on my mind.

my immense respect and admiration for the nannies of Hollywood. today's tabloid press brought it to my attention that i am on the wrong career path.
It seams that Britney spear's former nanny has landed a multimillion dollar book deal to put her name on a book ghost written my some autobiographer-to-the-stars about her time in the K-fed/B-spe household.


this is the American dream at it's best, not only does Britney get to fulfill the part where she doesn't raise her own children, but the (compared to Britney) underpaid baby wrangler later gets to fulfill the part where they get to earn millions of dollars for doing little to no work.

god bless America man.

so in an effort to bring this phenomenon to America's under-appreciated ice cube full of natural resources to the north, here is my new and improved five year plan. . .

find somebody to ghost write a tell all book about the Anderson's down the street, who i babysat for in high school . . . which should really only take a week or so. and then spend the next five years trying to make them famous. . .

a little turned around but after this blog entry i don't see myself getting hired as a nanny by the Mulroney's. . . (even though Ben still clearly needs one.)


''sing sing, sounds like it should be and opera house or something. . . black, alligator.''

there is nothing i like more than coming home tanked and watching classic movies. hoorah for breakfast at tiffany's.

i read somewhere that celebraties(sp? i can't spell when i am sober let alone right now.) go out and party on weekdays because only the lower class go partying on the weekends, so. . . hoorah for acting rich, because there really is no excuse for being this drunk on a weekday.

anyways, the point of this drabble is that george pappard is awesome. . . and i guess audrey hepburn is pretty cool too.

''you!! you know what's going to happen to you? i am going to take you to the Zoo and feed you to the yak!!! . . . as soon as i finish this drink."


the colour test on wench wire's blog looked like fun to me, which is odd because i am not usually into the self evaluating questions. but it was fun, and like everything else in my life i m earth toned! i love brown, it's such a strong sensible colour.

i would like to point out that the words strong and sensible are not words that i would normally use to describe myself. but they are qualities that i admire in people around me so i can't help but be pleased with the result.

Your true colour is brown!


You're brown, a credible, stable colour that's reminiscent of fine wood, rich leather, and wistful melancholy. Most likely, you're a logical, practical person ruled more by your head than your heart. With your inquisitive mind and insatiable curiosity, you're probably a great problem solver. And you always gather all of the facts before coming to a timely, informed decision. Easily intrigued, you're constantly finding new ways to challenge your mind, whether it's by reading the newspaper, playing a trivia game, or composing a piece of music. Brown is an impartial, neutral colour, which means you tend to see the difference between fact and opinion easily and are open to many points of view. Trustworthy and steady, you really are a brown at heart.

aside from thanking wench wire for the colour test, i must also send my thanks for getting me home after a mutual friends going away party last night. i was just about to give up and drunkenly walk home through a not so awesome part of town when she found a cab and offered to drop me off. . . so thank you! i am still alive!

it was good to get out and have fun though, and probably good for me, despite the nasty hang over. i get into these ruts where i hang out with the same people all the time, and while i love my close friends, it's exciting and refreshing to have new conversations with new people.


hooray for first actual post!

for some reason i have been awarded some kind of nice award (seen in figure FU-1). . . i think if you ask around you'll find that things like that don't happen very often, at least not to me.

knuckle toes had this to say:

"Pocket Buddha - Like Abigail said, you are a pretty wonderful lady. You bring greetings of trail mix and kiwis, and are now my new business partner, with Greetings from Aunt Flow. Now it is time for you to show everyone how nice you can be, by posting. Go fourth and post!"

"PocketBuddha- You don't really know her yet in the blogosphere, but believe me, she's a nice lady. She brought me fruit and trail mix and good conversation throughout Folk Fest last weekend, and that alone proves how darn nice she is." says abigail road.

so now not only do i feel pressure to be nice to people, but also to post. . . even though i have nothing of consequence to say for myself, accept thank you!!!! i feel this shows that knuckle toes and abigail road actually get me. . . not in an emo sort of 'nobody gets me but my friends' sort of way, but because they have actually recognized that behind the sarcasm i do actually care for people. . . but don't tell anyone.



I also like to sniff dirty baby diapers.
Bleh heh bleh.

paybacks a bitch.
Love, Knuckle Toes