Friday, November 28, 2008

Coming to a close

Dear Beloved Tintamarien(ne)s,

Since our baby, l'Argument, is coming to close, I would like to write about my experience with you all during the last few months. Never before have I felt so encouraged and supported by my peers. You are such a wonderful group of talented and kind-spirited individuals, and when we get together there are limitations to our creative output. With you I feel that I can truly be myself, and not worry about anyone thinking I'm being silly or emotional or ridiculous.

Everyday I look forward to the time when I will get to see you all again and partake in our absurdist bilingual antics. Come Sunday, I don't know what I will do without having my evening hours treated by the love and enthusiasm you each bring to our little Windsor Theatre. Each of you has a truly beautiful soul and a large heart, and I love each and every one of you very very much.

Merde!!! :)


Thursday, November 27, 2008

An expression of love and devotion

Dear Bed,

I love you with all of my heart. Screw family, friends, pets. I love you above all else at this very moment.



P.S. I jokes. you rock my socks, but shoes are still better

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Dear Weather,

I greatly appreciate your extremely enthusiastic efforts to provide us with a snow day, I don't think you fully understood what that was supposed to encompass. You got the too-much-snow-to-go-out thing, you got the too-icy-to-go-outside thing, you got the too-windy-to-go-outside thing, you got the buildings-on-campus-have-to-be-closed thing, so good job. Here's the thing though; It's a Saturday. Snow days on Saturdays kind of defeat the true purpose of a snow day, which is to get Francesca out of having to go to class or to submit any assignments. Snow days on Saturdays mean that much needed rehearsals get cancelled, and that our potluck has to be postponed. Uncool.

Now, since you've had your practise run, please make sure that do this on Wednesday between the hours of 8:30 am and 4:00 pm, and that you are all cleared up in time for 6 o'clock so that my show can still go up that night.

Thanks a bunch!


Friday, November 21, 2008


Dear Theatre Makeup Independent Study,

Can you please do yourself? I'll give you a cookie.



Our Next Canadian Idol

Dear Readers,

Last night I was taking Christmas portraits of Smudge, Banana, and Sadie, and as I scrolled through the images I had taken, I happened upon this one. I don't know what carol he's singing exactly, but his enthusiasm makes me believe that he's got a real future ahead of him in the music industry.


Guess I'm just too mad of a cow

Dear Canadian Blood Services,

Apparently you don't want my blood, because I was in the UK for more than 3 months between 1980 and 1996. This is because during these years there was a major Mad Cow Disease outbreak. So, because my family went to England when I was 2 years old and we stayed for about 5-6 months, my blood is no good to you.

I understand perfectly that you do not want to put anyone needing a transfusion at risk, but seriously? Is my blood really that dangerous? When I did some reading up on the disease on Wikipedia, it told me that you get the disease by EATING THE SPINAL CORD AND/OR THE BRAIN of the infected animal. I'm sorry Canadian Blood Services if I seem naive to be judging your rejection of my blood, but what 2 year old girl do you know who goes around eating cow nervous systems?

My readings also got me wondering though. Apparently researchers believe that it can take decades before the disease takes hold and symptoms arise. If I somehow did come in contact with the disease when I was a little platinum-froed toddler, when I'm middle-aged and have my own family I could suddenly start having symptoms and die within a few weeks. I know that the chances are slim to none, but if that were to happen, that seems like an awfully cruel way to go.

Anyways, I'm sorry Canadian Blood Services that I cannot help your cause by donating my mad cow blood, but you should know that I think you are doing a great and wonderful thing, and I think that all the donors are also doing a great and wonderful thing. I just wish I could help save lives too.


Thursday, November 20, 2008

Smelly days to come, but it's so worth it

Dear Stagg Chili (Vegetable Garden),

You rock my socks.



Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Pumpkins are too cool to be depressed

Dear Pumpkin on the Window,

Why do you look so sad? Your fellow pumpkin on the window is relatively cheerful, and you get to stay there even though Halloween is over. You're not even on the cold window pane. You're on the nice warm and snuggly window and you get to eavesdrop on me and my roommates' silly conversations and you get to witness our (mainly my) weirdness. You get to smell all of Sara's yummy cooking, and you sometimes get nuzzled by Banana when he's up on the window ledge.

Are you worried that Christmas will outshine you? While I love Christmas very very very much, I also love you, and do you see any Christmas trees taking up your window space? That spot is yours and your cheerful pumpkin buddy's and your assorted Halloween dots'.

I hope you feel better soon, Pumpkin on the Window.



Christmas foreshadowing is cold and wet and icky

Dear Weather,

You are snowing! Every year I greatly look forward to that first white fluffy Hallmark snow, as it lets me know that it really is getting close to Christmas (my FAVOURITEST holiday!!!!). But weather, while you may be snowing, you are not snowing white fluffy Hallmark snow. You are not snowing white fluffy Hallmark snow at all. You are snowing cold wet icky and ugmo snow that slowly seeps through the sleeves of my coat and soaks the hems of my jeans so that when I take off my boots, my feet end up in a puddle of cold, wet ick. How dare you, weather? How dare you take my moment of blissful Christmas anticipation and twist, wrangle, and manipulate it into this disgusting, gray, windy, flu-breeding disaster.

Weather, can you please get your act together? I wants me some carols, chestnuts, and white fluffy Hallmark snow!!!!


P.S. Please don't make our power go out pleasies.
Dear Stomach et al,

Why? Why must you be so insistent on being so ouch, despite Pepto Bismol's, Advil's, and Powerade's best efforts to sooth you and put the ouch to rest? I need to be able to go to class, and you have been making this very difficult for me. You throw big ol' tantrums that make me completely and utterly miserable, and then you pretend for moments that you are all normal.

Stop being such a drama queen. That's MY job.


The Bestest Party EVER!!!!!!

Dear Readers,

This makes me happy every time I see it. I hope you enjoy it too!


Tuesday, November 18, 2008

A note of thanks

Dear Pepto Bismol, Advil, & Powerade,

I would like to thank you from the bottom of my intestines and the top of my brain for the immensely appreciated help you provided me this evening. All day I was extremely ouch a l'estomac (in my tummy) and in my head, and you and your magical healing powers graciously returned my organs to a state of bliss. Pepto Bismol, you worked your magic on my cramps, nausea, and other unmentionables with dignity and deliciously pink charm. Advil, your liquidy capsules soothed my brain with turquoise perfection. Powerade, you quenched my thirst and calmed my dehydration with orange enthusiasm.

Pepto Bismol, Advil, & Powerade, you are pharmaceutical demi-gods!



Flour Fest 2008

Dear Smudge,

Apparently flour tastes as awesome to you as grapes do to the Chick in Pan's Labyrinth, because today you thought it would be a nice idea to get into the flour. Of course, you are partially a black cat, but when I found you in the kitchen today, you weren't a black cat; you were a white cat. A very much in trouble white cat.

I think that you've learned your lesson though, because after I bathed you (and wasn't that an exciting adventure) and dried you off (which made you look like Mother Theresa), you looked at that bag of flour with a look of pure loathing.

Smudge, I sincerely hope that you did learn your lesson, because I don't think I can deal with doing that again.



A sad farewell

Dear Shoes,

I love you all very very much, so much so that I have worn you all into states of disrepair. Almost all of you, especially the prettiest and most comfortable amongst you, have holes and have become very dishevelled. This is especially difficult for my feet right now because it is November, and therefore too cold for me to be pretending that you are all warm and whole. I'm afraid, my dearest shoes, that I may have to replace you with some new shoes, as well as some boots for the upcoming frost and snow.

I would like to apologize to those of you with whom I will be parting, as well as to those of you who will be losing your dearest shoe friends and acquaintances. I will do my best to make sure that those who are recruited to replace your beautiful selves will be entirely deserving of that place of honour.

I am sorry my dear shoes. You have been truly faithful and supportive throughout our companionship.



While visions of Catnip danced in his head

Dear Readers,
I thought you might enjoy my sharing this picture of the adorable Banana kitten.


Monday, November 17, 2008

Grapes aren't that good

Dear Chick in Pan's Labyrinth,

So you're told by the magical faun thing that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you eat ANYTHING when you do your little quest, even though there's a nice big feast there. When you get there, not only do you see a frickin' horrifying monster sitting at the end of the table, but you ALSO see pictures of that same monster killing and eating children like yourself. So, what do you do? Well, of course you have to go and eat grapes. GRAPES! You even have little fairy friends warning you not to. Well of course when you eat the grapes the monster wakes up, and when he does, you don't run, even though the fairies are telling you to. What do you do? You stand there and ponder those grapes you ate. You wait until the monster dude is right behind you and bites the heads off of two of your fairy friends before you then think "Oh, I guess I should run or something..."

Fairy friends, I am sorry for your loss. Chick in Pan's Labyrinth, you are an idiot.


I love you but please don't suck on me

Dear Banana,

I understand that you love me, and I understand that to your little adorable orange kitten self I represent your mother. However, unlike your mother, I do not produce milk, and so when you suck on my arm as if it were your actual mother's nipple, it should not surprise you that nothing comes out. Why then do you persist so? My arms are not nipples. Milk does not come out of my arms. Milk will never come out of my arms, no matter how much you suck on them and no matter how much you look at me with your adorable kitten eyes.

This would not be a problem if a) you didn't lick your bum, b) your suckle-fests didn't land me with tiny kitten hickies all over my arms, or c) you didn't wake me up at 6 in the morning suckling on my nose.

This has to stop.


Sunday, November 16, 2008

Getting Started

Dear Readers,

So I'm kind of new to this whole blogging phenomenon so please bear with me if I say/do anything on here that is against the Almighty Bloggery. This whole concept of blogging and dishing out my inner-most (and not so inner-most) thoughts online kind of intrigues me. Maybe it's because I'm a major attention whore (I'm a Drama Major...that just about says it all) that I like the idea of numerous strangers reading my bizarro thoughts. Maybe the legendary and inspirationally humourous Dooce inspired me. Maybe it's because I'm bored and can't sleep... In any case, I have now hopped onto the blogging train, and hopefully all will go well!

Since this is my first post, I should warn any of you who read this and any further posts that I have a strong tendency to over punctuate and to make ridiculous grammatical errors, and for these I apologize. I would love it if I were able to erase this tragic flaw of mine, but I can't, so tough. Also, I am Canadian, so if any of you are American, 'colour' is my correct way of writing your 'color'; 'humour' is my correct way of writing your 'humor'; 'neighbour' is my correct way of writing your 'neighbor'. There are a bunch of other Candian ways of spelling that will surely irk you, but I am particularly adament about those 'ou' ones. I'm just weird like that.

I'd love to post more right now, but I think I should explore the depths of this blog before I submit you to any more rambling. I just thought I should say Hello first. So, Hello! And Welcome to Polka-Dots & Circle Skirts!