I've created a monster...no...a Nation

Happy fricken' Hallowe'en and all that crap (Still bitter about the damn pumpkin carving contest). Now onto happier things.

I've made a country.
...
...
...
Okay. Perhaps some more detail is needed here. I've created a country in a massive on-line game called Nation States. I was really excited to stumble across this, as the recent discovery that my former Canadian political party of choice is lead by lying, inept, monkey-brained, mathematically-retarded politicians. So like the libertarians moving to New Hampshire for the free state project, I created my on electronic country called Cheladonia.

The game appears to have been written by people who are not of the same political background at myself and have read a whole lotta Hobbes. Any laws you pass become worst case scenario extremes, going on the assumption that everyone is stupid (which is odd since my population is apparently very intelligent). Regardless it's really fun to see the results of my legislation. For example, when I was presented with a free speech issue where some parents were calling for the banning of the latest Harry Potter book because he uses "The Magic." I laughed it out of the place where the government conducts it's business (I think I'll call it the Scrum), because Chelsea is all about free speech. As a result "Cheladonia's children are widely acknowledged as the most foul-mouthed in the region." I'm so fucking proud man.

Today's sing-a-long song: The National Anthem of Cheladonia (whatever that might be)

HRH

There Is No Justice

One would think that a submission to a pumpkin carving contest that consisted of taking 3 pumpkins and shaping them into a HotWheels track, complete with loop-de-loop and tunnel, would just kick ass all over the place. As part of some elaborate conspiracy, my department's work of art "The Highway to Health" was bested in the annual pumpkin carving competition by a pumpkin with the likeness of the Mad Scientist from The Simpsons with a lab coat wrapped around it.

Clearly the world just isn't ready for my art.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Highway To Hell" by AC/DC

HRH

Perspective is everything

I came to a saddening realization today. When I was a young, impressionable teen looking for a hero I would often idolize rock stars in alternative bands. If you know me at all, the notion of someone who turned out to be the way that I am having my heart go flippity flop at the moanings and ramblings of some coke-addled highschool dropout is actually kind of funny. I'm not saying that all rock stars are like that (many of them are respectable and just plain good people), just the ones I was fawning over.

Oh how I adored the way they would tell the world to just "Fuck off!" or how they'd deconstruct their barely constructed songs to show how the world really is crumbling around us. They'd slur their words, throw their instruments around and act like really obnoxious jerks. I just couldn't get enough of it.

So this realization? I occurred to me today, as I was walking up the steps to my office, that these boys weren't raging against the dying of the light nor were their tousled good looks the product of some antiestablishment plan. No. They were drunk. The lot of them were loud, no doubt smelly, unkempt drunks. When they'd forget the words to their songs, stumble around the stage or just stand there apathetic staring into space it wasn't because they were thoughtful. It was because they'd blacked out in a drunken haze. The great messy hair... it wasn't product. It was fashioned by repeated nights of passing out in exciting positions and waking up just in time for sound check.

I'm so disillusioned now.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Lies" by EMF

HRH

Chilled to the Bone

Today I decided to take my hand washing hygiene to another level. Instead of using the paper towels, which are more likely to carry bacteria, I opted to dry my hands using the hand dryer. Winter is awfully hard on the hands, but I've already stocked up on vats of hand cream and lip blam, so I threw caution to the wind and opted to be just that much cleaner. So I wash my hands with the Dermasoft hand cleaner from Huntington Laboratories with really hot water, just to mess with that bacteria even more and make my way to the hand dryer for a blast of hot water absorbing air. And what happens. It's fricken freezing.

What kind of non-thinking, generally sadistic person makes a hand dryer in a hospital blow out ice cold air? Doesn't this person know that I have to wash my hands like 10 times a day, in an effort to stave off the myriad of diseases floating around this place? Doesn't this monster know that getting cold when you're wet leads to unhappy and unhealthy feelings? How can I do my part in stopping the spread of disease if the hand dryer is working against me? Let's keep our eyes on the ball here people.

Today's Sing-a-Long song: "You Have Placed a Chill in my Heart" by Annie Lennox

HRH

"The Power of Christ compels You!"

I need an exorcist. I need someone to get this virus or bacteria or evil thing out of my body. I'm grouchy, I'm sucky, I'm unable to process food properly and for a brief period of time I've felt like I was doing that projectile, rotating-head, vomiting thing. I'm sick and I'm none too pleased about it.

Having glanced back the the past 48 hours of posting I've noticed that I've been posting like there's something up my butt. So sorry for all the ranting. When I'm sick, the world is black, black, black. I'm going to spend the day watching the Original trilogy which should make me more myself and less of a grumpy pants.

Stay Tuned.

HRH

And I'm usually so trendy...

The results are in. I'm extreme. No, not that kind of extreme. Over the past week friends near and far have enjoyed the fruits of the Political Compass and as the creators of the graph pointed out it has been a wonderful stimulus for conversation and debate. I always knew that I was a pretty poltically conservative person, but I had no idea how far out I was in comparison to the people I know. The only person remotely close to me has been M. Everyone else is on the other side of y.

It's been really interesting seeing how people react to my results. Some have reacted like "Well duh. It's you. I disagree/kind of agree with you. Let's have a debate." and others have reacted like "Woah... so you're evil." and proceeded to attack. I'm not evil, just different, more different than I'd thought mind you. I can take comfort in knowing that in negative side of the X axis has been popular for everyone. And I would again like to point out that I fall in the category "which couples law of the jungle right-wing economics with liberal positions on most social issues."

There's a lot of misunderstanding when it comes to the right, so before more attacks come via email, make sure that we're using the same vocabulary. Just because I fall onto a position on a graph, it does not mean that you can define my every value and belief. Please know that I'm pretty liberal unless it involves economics or my personal freedoms. I like to think of it as classical liberalism. I know that I will never live in my ideal world. Perhaps people like Mike and Shaver and others living closer to the centre are more grounded in the realities of today's world and what can and will actually happen. I confess to being an idealist and seeing things in black and white, just like my counterparts on the extreme left. I am not a baby eater, nor do I cut down trees for sport. I'm an atheist, so I share very little in common with that faction of the right. I don't want people to suffer needlessly and do not ever want to achieve greatness at the expense of another. I just think that the best economy is a free one and that no one is better at living my life than I am. Savvy? Savvy.

Today's sing-a-long song: "My Life" Billy Joel.

HRH

Just follow my nose! It always knows.

I have a remarkable sense of smell. It may be because I don't eat much spicy food, drink coffee or smoke, or it could be that since my sister and father lose their sense of smell intermittently I'm getting a stronger sense out of some karmic familial smell scale. Whatever the reason, I can smell things like Haley Joel Osment sees dead people. Normally I'm pretty happy with this gift. I can tell how many hours a carton of milk has left and I'm a masterful perfume shopper (it's all about those beets Wendy). When I read Perfume by Patrick Suskind I was horrified to discover that I could really understand the serial killer protagonist because he experienced the world through smell and truly understood its power.

There are times when my blessing becomes a curse. Like all superheroes, I must pay for my greatness. While Daredevil is the hero who's afraid of really loud noises, I am the heroine who can be brought to her knees by vomit inducing smell. My current secret weapon against bad smells (coffee breath, someone sweating off booze or that smell someone has when they just really should have had a bath that day) is smelling my own wrist. I'm not trying to suggest that I'm just best smelling thing since black currants, because I'm actually fairly manic about the way I smell, I just am always wearing perfume. It's a great weapon for getting through nauseating situations.

However it seems that I have an enemy I don't think I can conquer. It's the people on the first floor and whatever the Hell they cooked for dinner tonight. It may be because I'm a tad under the weather and therefore more sensitive than usual to stinks, but as I walk down to the laundry room I have to use all my willpower to not vomit on their door and ask if that's what they'd cooked. I think I actually described it to M as a serving of ass with puke on the side. Of course when he goes to check on the drying, he can't smell a thing. This leads me to believe that the smell isn't actually there and it's like the olfactory equivalent of noises that only dogs can hear. Sigh. Bless the scented candle.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana

HRH

Vini Vidi BooYa!

First I have to thank Shaver for linking to this and for the second part, this, yesterday. It's only the second time in my life I've wished I could speak latin. Regardless it brought me to tears of joy. I seriously didn't figure out what it was until halfway down the page. From that wonderful interpretation I discovered a link to the geek version, which had me giggling so much I think I turned a little blue. It's the simple things.

I need not tell you what Today's second sing-a-long song is.

HRH

Living in South East

It seemed only fitting on a day when the Right of Canada unites like a long separated couple in a dysfunctional relationship, that I take a moment to find my way with a Politcal Compass. It comes as no surprise to me that I'm living in the south east of political world:

Economic Left/Right: 6.62
Libertarian/Authoritarian: -4.51

This puts me in the same neighbourhood as folks like Milton Friedman and Ayn Rand. Shocking I know. What was even more interesting to me is that my neighbourhood has no world leaders in it. Not much of a shock either I guess.

Today's sing-a-long song (just for the PCs and the Alliance): "Ex Factor" by Lauryn Hill.

HRH

The Musical of Life

I've often maintained that people would be happier if they sang more. I'm sure someone in psychology has done a study that connects singing to happy feelings. Yes, we do sometimes sing when we're sad, but we're also expressing ourselves, which is a pretty healthy thing to do. Singing is a happy thing and as I'm a pretty happy person I sing a lot. Add in my very healthy fantasy life and you have a person with a deep seeded wish for spontaneous musical numbers.

Just imagine it. Even the mundane becomes something to sing about. Walking to work has that Disney feeling, chalk full of excitement and anticipation of the possibilities each day brings. Or maybe a lament about insomnia. Either way it can be sung. My morning trip to Starbucks becomes a soulful song about waiting in line for something you crave. It could even end with a little bit of gospel, praising the holy Non-fat Tazo Chai Latte (for some reason I always imagine Wendy being part of this number... In fact she's part of most of the musical numbers in my head. Must be because she's already one walking, living musical on her own). There are just so many options. So many types of song to reflect who you are and how you feel.

When I was in school, I even imagined having a musical moment after coming out of The Trasheteria (the club I went to from the day it opened to the day it became something very different). You've been dancing most of the night, you're on your way to get the necessary poutine and you and your two closest guys burst into a tap dancing extravaganza of "Good Morning" from Singin' In The Rain that has you dancing all over the hub. So fun. Yet somehow convincing M and Mike to do it seemed like a long shot.

Put a little musical in your day. Let your flight of fancy go all the way. I know it will make you feel good (and look silly, but really who cares). If you notice me dancing down the hallway or up the street you'll know that my one-woman musical number has started and you're more than welcome to join in and sing along.

Today' sing-a-long song: "Moses" By Gene Kelly & Donald O'Connor

HRH

Could it be perfection or just the full moon

This lunar cycle has got me all in a tizzy. Or maybe it's the new Muse CD. It's difficult to tell. All I can tell is that my heart is racing and I have the urge to run whenever I have to travel somewhere. It's like a perma-adrenaline rush. You know what it feels exactly like? Falling in love. I'm forming a romantic relationship with this CD. Funny thing is, the last time I fell in love with a CD was about 2 years ago when the last Muse CD came out. It's like each song has been written just for me. Each note, each word calculated to rush up and down my spine, giving me shivers like the hands of an experienced lover. If there was a way that I could be digatized into an .mp3 flie or a CD track I would do it so that I could have sex with this CD. Yes, it's that good.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Time Is Running Out" by Muse

HRH

The sleep of reason produces monsters

I keep having this dream that I'm the mom of the family in car commercials. I'm in an SUV and my "husband" is driving. My "kids" are watching "Sponge Bob Squarepants" and I suddenly stop smiling. My desire to smile and look affectionately at my "kids" as they watch inane cartoon fades away to an overwhelming sensation of panic. I look around the car. Everyone has this terrifying smile plastered on their face, because for them "things are so right and so perfect." That's when I decide I have to get out of there. We're travelling about 80 km/h. I try to imagine what jumping out of a car going that quickly would do to me. I put my hand on the door handle to open the door and my "husband" activates the door lock. I can't get out. I turn towards him and the "kids" and am met with a shocking sight. They all have razor sharp teeth and claws, yet have managed to maintain their maniacal smiles. "What's wrong Mommy?" they keep asking as they edge closer and closer. Their eyes are glowing red. I try to scream. I try to kick them away from me, but it is to no avail. In one quick moment they jump on me and eat me alive.

Watch that commercial again and you'll see the red glint in their eyes. Little fuckers.

I had another strange dream last night. In reality, a lot of people close to me are getting married, so weddings are on the brain. Regardless of my personal readiness for such an occasion, the prospect of marriage is on my mind. So I had this dream last night that M and I were getting married. I don't remember a lot of details save this one. The moment after he put the ring on my finger, he clasped my watch around my neck as though it were my wrist. It didn't feel painful, even though it was hard to do (I mean who has a neck the size of their wrist). It was just really strange. When I woke up this morning I had a terribly sore throat and I forgot to put my watch on before going to work. Clearly it's "not time."

Today's sing-a-long song: "Hourglasss" by Squeeze.

HRH

MAB + MPN Forever

It's really great seeing M and Mike reuinted. Never mind that Mike was my friend first. Never mind that I am the all important link between them. Never mind that this woman's idea of how to unwind at the end of a tough day is by getting together with her ACLU pals and setting American flags on fire...

Sorry I was suddently possesed by The American President.

All kidding aside, it really is great seeing them together again. It is, however, amusing to note that they now have the very same phone. How cute is that? I wonder when they're going to buy matching fleeces for their walks in the park together.

//ducks and runs.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Me and my shadow"

HRH

Frostbite gone bitchy

While a lot of people regard the first frost of the year as a bad bad thing, I welcome it with open arms. "Why" you may ask? It's simple. When the frost comes, my allergies stop and I don't have to use my crazy eye drops that make the desire to tear my eyeballs from their sockets go away. Yes, the first frost is great news for allergy sufferers.

So you can imagine with the sight of frost outside, I was in a pretty chipper mood this morning as I made my way to the street car. I should have known that it would be a trying ride when the driver informed me that we'd be going slowly today. As Mike mentioned in the comments of yesterday's blog, the city of Toronto is pretty tapped for resources, so they can't pick up roadkill or afford to fix the tracks on the College line. The tracks on this line are really old. So old that they've created "Red Zones" where the drivers aren't allowed to go any faster than 10 km/h. I don't think I'd had a concept for how slow that actually is until today. It seems that this morning there were street car cops out with radar guns making sure that the drivers didn't exceed the limit in the "Red Zones." According to today's street car driver, a repeated speeding violation results in a $400 fine.

So we were going very slowly today. And it really seemed like there was something in the air. A kind of nervous energy. There's going to be a full moon on Friday (a harvest moon in fact) so maybe that can account for the antsyness. I don't know, but something has to explain why I saw a woman actually hit an innocent guy sitting down and why I saw two men almost come to blows in an unrelated incident mere minutes later. Definitely a different way to start your day. Hopefully one I can pass on for a good long time.

Today's sing-a-long song: "In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins

HRH

Let's Talk About Roadkill

I really should be blogging about Ian and Adrienne's wonderful wedding this weekend. It really was perfect and they really are just the more adorable couple ever. But I have to get something off my chest. About 1 week and a half ago a raccoon was hit by a car on the street that I live on. The street is right beside TO's version of central park, so there are all kinds of animals (even a zoo) and there's all kinds of traffic. So sometimes animals meet cars and tragedy ensues. This is why Zeus is an indoor cat.

Anyway, this raccoon was killed. And maybe it's just my small town values, but when an animal is killed on the road in an area where children live and play, usually someone comes from the city and does a little bit of swiveling and we're all spared the gruesome guilt of knowing what happens when coon meets car. It's been like 10 days, and every day as I walk to work I see the animal carcass a little bit more decomposed and a little bit more flattened by the passing cars. I can only imagine what the kids that go to the montessori school a block up think.

Oh I just had a troubling thought. Maybe the city doesn't pick up the road kill... Maybe the rednecks do. //shiver.

HRH

An open letter to the men on the list

Dear men on Chelsea's list of "Famous People I'd Willingly Sleep With":

I don't like making threats. It's not becoming of a lady and most people force you to make good on any threats you make. But things are getting out of hand here gentlemen. Things have been done that require swift disciplinary action. I don't like being the heavy and I don't like having to dole out rejection, but I don't see any alternative recourse. Two of you are being placed on probation and one of you is being replaced. I've thought long and hard about this decision. I hate to have to tell you this, but the fact remains that you have to keep it fresh. You have to realize that bad hair is going to cost you. You are free men and can do whatever you want, but there are consequences for what you have done.

Robbie, it was a passing fancy. I still find you charming and entertaining, but there just isn't enough there to make maintaining this facade worthwhile. Your hair has often been top drawer, so please don't think that you need an image overhaul. It's just that there's no chemistry. I'm sure it's been apparent to you too. In light of this revelation that there's just nothing between us I've decided to follow the current trend of lusting after younger men and am replacing you with Hayden Christensen. He has a nice smile and episode III spy reports have shown that he can have longer 70's style hair and still look good. Versatility is key here gentlemen.

Viggo, David... What can I say. There's so much potential here. Great bone structure, nice eyes. Even Viggo has been able to pull off the whole "I'm a Ranger, so I don't need to comb my hair and bathe" thing and look fabu. But the really bad blond hair you're sporting in the new Disney movie... for shame. I know it's not something you can choose, so I'm just giving you a slap on the wrist. Just don't let it happen again.

David, however...WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO YOUR HEAD? I can't even bring myself to talk about it. I can only ask why? Why would you take something so perfect and make it look so sleazy? Why? Why? Why? Get thee to a stylist!!!

Okay. I'm composed again. Anyway, I'm glad we all had this talk. Remember to apply product starting at the back and working your way to the front.

Yours truly,
Chelsea

Today's sing-a-long song: "You're so vain" by Carly Simon.

HRH

"I'm the lady sippin' Bailey's while I strut like a model... If the girls wanna hate me I just send 'em a bottle"

Okay, so I'm not ghetto fabulous like Beyonce, but I did do some serious shopping yesterday. I'm on a quest for tops for work. My wardrobe is decent. It didn't jump off the pages of In Style, but I'm generally a fashion forward individual. In Prague there were more days when I dressed down than I dressed up. So I could get away with a modest professional wardrobe and never really get sick of my clothes.

It's been 3 weeks at the new job and I'm just dying for some new stuff. I work in a professional place, but I'm not a manager and I'm not 40 years old. I need to look polished, but at the same time want to look my age. This makes shopping a challenge. Hip and professional on a coordinators salary means I have to focus all my shopping superpowers for a retail battle.

I'm also tall. And I have curves (that's a lady-like way of saying that I'm packing heat on top and behind). Beyond the Herculean challenge that is finding clothes with long enough pant legs and arm lengths, I'm also fighting the assumption that all tall girls are sticks. Statuesque, I am, willowy, I'm not. There was a point last night when I'd tried on my 5th shirt that fit everywhere except the most obvious place when I had to wonder if it is indeed possible to wear a button up shirt and not look like a tramp. This also makes shopping a challenge. Button up shirts are so versatile and add a touch of crispness to your day. Am I not allowed to be crisp? Huh?

So I went out last night on a quest for tops. And what did I come back with? Two pairs of pants (which are just perfect I have to say), tights and make-up. I tried on top after top, scoured the store and came up with nothing. Boo-urns I say to that. I looked in the low end stuff, I looked in the high end stuff and seemed to to be trapped between the option of dressing like I'm in a music video or dressing like somebody's mother.

What is it with career wear anyway? All sweaters are turtlenecks now? All button up tops have to be made of cheap shiny fabric that makes me look like a cougar in training? Totally disheartening. I'm walking into stores, more than willing to hand over my money, boost the economy and give someone a healthy commission, but they have nothing for me. I'm standing right here. A market just begging to be tapped. Make shirts that fit me and I will be so loyal to you. I will seek out other women like me and send them your way. I'm a good customer and worthy of your goods. Please help me. If you don't I will have to go through life top-less.

But I will not be discouraged. I will prevail. I will triumph over dowdy clothes and remain tasteful without completely plunging myself into credit card debt (I work about a block from a very, very, very well equipped mall and shopping area). It can and will be done and I will do it. Excelsior!

Today's sing-a-long song: "Dress You Up" By Madonna.

HRH