It's a mime's world

Anyone who has been following my Twitter feed in the last few days will note that I have been battling some kind of bug. It's not been fun and it has made me question a lot of the nomenclature of science. I mean, why do we call it an immune system when it only provides immunity after the first attack and response to a virus or bacteria? To me, immune system implies that it would get it right the first time and repel the evil right away. I don't know what we should call the system we currently have. The adaptive immune system is a start, but still doesn't truly capture how very unpleasant the adaptation process is.

I am clearly on cold medication and rambling.

More fun is that I have also lost my voice. I'm well enough that I can walk around, go to work, get stuff done, but I have lost the power of speech. And you know what? It's kind of nice. I don't really have to participate in small talk in the same way and every conversation turns into a game of charades. Makes for an entertaining day. I wouldn't want to be like this forever mind you, but it's amusing enough for a Friday.

A colleague has suggested that I should get a striped shirt and a beret to really live the mime experience. Little did she know that I originally had a black and while striped shirt on today. :)

Today's sing-a-long song: Silent All These Years by Tori Amos

HRH

The power of choice

Tash and I were chatting today about people we know who almost exclusively watch the news on TV and how terribly anxious these people are about the state of the world. It got me thinking, are they concerned because of how well informed they are or because of the way they are informed.

Like most of my peers, I read my news. Google reader aggregates my news outlets of choice, I get stories sent to me by friends and I can end up scanning up to 1000 articles a day. Not all of these are hard news stories, but there are a good bunch in there. I think I can, with good conscience, call myself informed.

There's something about the TV news and how it's presented, the manner in which information is shared that, I think, creates more anxiety for viewers. The only choice they have is in which news program to watch. They don't get to decide the story line-up or the manner in which it is presented. I suppose with the advent of PVRs, they can decide when they watch it.

I think I'm in more control of how I'm getting my news and the by reading online, it's quick and easy for me to check a different source and get another point of view. Further to that, I have most of my close friends ready via IM to share the article with and discuss it. I think even that small amount of control makes a huge difference. Sure there's lots of streaming video news online, but I feel like I have more control over it.

At the end of it all, the world is still a mess but at least I'm absorbing the magnitude of it on my own terms.

HRH

I forgot the Internet was random

Honestly, I totally forgot. I've been doing this blogging/social networking/blah blah blah stuff for so long that I forgot just how totally bonkers the Internet can be.

I was searching for a photo I had uploaded to my site to share with a friend as a laugh. A very, very geeky photo which I will share with you in good time. I couldn't remember the URL, so I started just searching using good ol' google.

I didn't manage to find the photo I was looking for, but I did find other interesting and strange things involving other photos of mine (and just how many sites out there are aggregating twitter. Like my Joe Budden/Joe Biden tweet has somehow become attached to the Huffington Post. WTF!).

There's that now infamous photo of the November Rain wedding dress by Cymbaline that so many people link to and e-mail me about (like in earnest, wanting to find a way to buy it, OMFG), which accounts for a lot of links. And I mean links in many languages, but beyond that, it gets a little odd.

Like this person from Miami, who found one of my photos of my Christmas tree and used it on her Christmas holiday greeting. Kind of flattering and it also inspired the following IM between Tash and I:

tashariffic: I was trying to read it....but then I realized, I don't speak Spanish
herhighnessness: How far did you get?
herhighnessness: For some reason, I'm imagining a cartoon where the main character runs out over a cliff, but keeps on running until he realizes he's over thin air, and then falls
tashariffic: hehe
tashariffic: well I realized it was Spanish but thought "maybe I'll still get it"
tashariffic: I didn't.

The oddest by far is the use of a photo of my beloved cat Zeus, on a site for a cat-based role playing game (scroll down a little). Like, he's a character. Apparently he's a Medicine Cat, named Mountaintail: "A handsome tom with orange brown eyes and a grey pelt. He is kind but overprotective. His mate is Shadowclaw and his kit is Dawnkit."

Umm... okay. I mean, the first thing to come to my mind is that it's pretty clear in this photo that this cat's eyes are green. And also, it's a cat RPG. I mean, it's fine to have one and for people to play RPGs (though I don't really get them), I just always kind of imagined Zeus as a first-person-shooter.

Oh, Internet. You never fail to amuse.

HRH

Spectacle

*as M and I watch the closing ceremonies for the 2008 Beijing Olympics

M: Someone needs to come up with the next big thing after fireworks for events.
C: I'd say this thing is pretty big on fireworks.
M: That's not what I mean. Fireworks, everyone does fireworks. What's next? What's new?
C: Ritual sacrifice?
M: You can't see that from far away.

HRH

How much is that Chelsea in the window?

M: There's a place in Toronto (on Huron Street) called The Chelsea Shop. We should do a picture of you there.
C: Do they sell Chelseas?
M: That's my theory.
C: Finally I can determine my market value.
M: I'd guess pretty high.
C: Awwww.
M: Well, shucks
C: Seriously though, what do they sell?
M: I don't know.They seem to host events, mostly.
C: Funny, so do I.
M: ha ha ha

HRH

The couple that Simpsons together

Not that we've seen the movie yet...



Try it yourself. It's a nice way to kill a few minutes if you have them.

HRH

Not quite good enough for Napoleon Dynamite

So I'm one of five people on the planet who haven't seen Napoleon Dynamite. I am okay with this. The trailer made me uncomfortable and I am overcome with the desire to hurt the character every time I see him. These things made me think that 120 minutes of him would do really bad things to my blood pressure.

Even though I haven't seen the film, it doesn't mean I haven't seen/heard a lot of the jokes from it. The "Vote for Pedro" T-shirts, the chapstick and, sadly, the dance sequence.

Normally having a dance sequence in a film would make it near and dear to my heart, but this one annoys me. I will try to be fair, though. Napoleon is a doing a pretty good job, and the fact that he learned to dance in two days watching a video and actually won a student body president election with it, well that's very nice for him.

It's just that Canned Heat is big song for me, strange as that is. It became a bit of a personal anthem in my last year of University and I have so many fond memories of dancing to it or listening to it in the car with my friends. I guess the song is era defining for me.

I guess it's not the movie itself that bugs me, but the fact that everyone but me and the four other people who haven't seen it think of Napoleon Dynamite when the song comes on. I think of the awesome final sequence for Center Stage (you can fast-forward to 6:38 to see the relevant portion if the entire ballet doesn't interest you) or of my friends and what dancing to that song meant for us, and in comparison, Napoleon Dynamite seems, I dunnno, unworthy.

I don't know why it took me three years to figure out why it bothered me as much as it did.

HRH

I hope this time they'll protect the exhuast port, just below the main port

Tash sent me a link to a proposed building for the UAE that looks a whole lot like the pride and joy of the Galactic Empire



I don't know about any of you, but I would be rather trepidatious about staying there given the propensity of the inspiring structure to be blown into little tiny bits of fire by rebel forces.

HRH

Tim Hortons and the invisible dog

Has anyone else noticed that at the beginning of the ad for the Tim Hortons Butter Caramel Iced Capp Supreme that in the first shot, the woman in the yellow sports bra and blue tights is walking an invisible dog?

The next shot, poorly, tries to suggest that she is water skiing (all the while sipping her Tim Hortons Butter Caramel Iced Capp Supreme) but in fact the new shot reveals she is just pulled by her golden retriever through the park. Apparently this dog can change its invisibility status at will.

You see in the first shot when she walks past the poster for the Tim Hortons Butter Caramel Iced Capp Supreme there is no dog in the shot. She even appears to be pulling on an invisible leash. But still no dog. At least not then.

If you can see dog in the first shot, let me know. I find it quite troubling every time the ad comes on.

HRH

Ms Vs. The Black Eyed Peas Vs. Alanis

Way back in 2005 I had a bit of an issue with the song and video for My Humps by The Black Eyed Peas. It was and remains a piece of visual and aural crap.

Perusing through my usual gossip sites I came across a link to a spoof of the song done by none other than Alanis Morissette that I feel I must share with everyone.



I haven't decided if it's better or worse than the original. I've only been able to make it through the whole thing once. I leave it to the masses to decide.

HRH

As heard on the Queen St. Streetcar

C: Listen to that guy's cough. It's tragic. It sounds like he's hacking out all the sadness in his soul.
M: Could he maybe hack out his sadness a little quieter?
C: Seriously, don't you hear it in the cough. Its sounds so heartbreaking.
M: Sounds like phlegm to me.

HRH

When the soundtrack of life gets serious

In order to tell this story I have to admit to something awfully nerdy. I don't imagine that it will come as a shock to anyone, but I listen to movie scores on my ipod quite a lot. The Star Wars movie scores in particular. Stunning revelation, no. Appallingly geeky, oh my yes.

So this morning I had to stop by my bank to make a transfer between accounts that I had forgotten to do, and thereby make the clearing of some bills, well, a lot more clearable. I usually do this kind of thing from my computer, but I was no where near one when I remembered that I'd forgotten. I'd also forgot to put on my wedding rings today, so you can tell that the level of focus I have today is darn near spectacular.

I get to the bank machine and start my transaction, my ipod on, listening to the soundtrack from The Revenge of the Sith, the track Padme's Ruminations in particular. I start my transaction, prepare to transfer money from one account to another and I get the message that my PIN is invalid. The music coming through my headphones turned seriously dark and dramatic as the error message appeared and the track changed to Anakin's Dark Deeds. I had a double "What the hell moment" as I was confused by the error and also a little taken aback by how well the moment of confusion had been scored by my ipod.

Turns out I had simply mistyped my PIN, but having the sound of a choir and orchestra at full volume every time I make a mistake might make the act of making mistakes more amusing than annoying.

HRH

Sclemeel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated.

I am currently making my way through my itunes library in preparation for M's birthday party tomorrow night. A faux pas has generated a puninishment that involves me having to perform "Ice Ice Baby" in a karaoke bar. It will be gruesome, but I will pay my fine for being thoughtless. I guess it's better punishment than having to shovel rocks.

Anyway, as I look over all the songs I like to think that I can sing (I cannot), I am listening to a truly wonderful CD lent to me by my colleague Jenn. A CD with 65 theme songs from television shows from the 70s and 80s.

Now I don't want to suggest that my parents didn't raise me with anything but the most care and attention, but the fact that I know almost all of these theme songs by heart and can remember a lot of the plot lines from the shows does make me wonder if I wasn't, at least slightly, raised by television. (It astounds me that the theme song from "Taxi" still totally annoys me. I never got that show at ALL.)

Really I shouldn't be singing the theme song from "WKRP in Cincinnati" with this much vigour. And have I become so starved for nostalgia that the "Miami Vice" theme song actually sounds good again?

Today's sing-a-long song: "Believe it or not (The Greatest American Hero)" by John Scarbury

HRH

Call me George

I try not to re-post stories that I've read elsewhere, but once in awhile something comes along that I have to share. And this little story is all about a planet named George.

Awesome.

HRH

Behind the looking-glass

We don't talk about work. That's a very stupid thing to do when you're what I am. But it's strange. So much of my day is spent working, so much happens at work that shapes my outlook and it all stays inside the walls of my cubicle. True, it's not mine to share, but it does keep me very busy.

Which I suppose is what irks me about it all. To the outside observer, or blog reader, things look positively pedestrian, but from 9 to 5, my life is a bit of a malestrom of madness. Not my madness to share, but madness I experience none the less.

Speaking of madness... Who knew that Natalie Portman was so gangsta?

HRH

Good guys, bad guys and explosions

You'll thank me later, now just watch.

Thanks to Mr. Gibson for the linky.

HRH

And then they're on the beach

Okay. Okay. I'm trying to wrap my head around this one. It appears to be hidden camera footage of Brooke Burke and the creepy Burger King guy. But, but... Why?

I would love to have been a fly on the wall for that client pitch. Did someone along the way ask the question "What the hell does this have to do with selling hamburgers?" cause there's no way that Brooke Burke eats, let along eats Burger King.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Things that make you go hmmmm" by C+C Music Factory

HRH

Reconstruction complete

After many months, I am now totally done physiotherapy. Three problems were brought in and all three were remedied in due course. Back trauma from my fall, sorted. Long standing issues with my knees, sorted. Thrown out back, sorted. All thanks to hard work, on the part of both me and my physio, and breathing my way through it all.

I'm overjoyed at being fully mobile again. It's pretty amazing. However, there is a downside. My physiotherapist was just awesome and a lot of fun. I'm going to miss our chats about all things nerdy. Not so much that I'm going to throw myself down the stairs or anything like that, but it was nice to have such a cool rapport.

In light of this long-overdue recovery, it only seemed apropos that Chris B e-mailed me this image today.



I'll be sure to stand up straight for ever more.

HRH

N is for Neville who died of ennui

We have this poster on our kitchen door. A macabre little thing called The Gashlycrumb Tinies, all witty and victorian, that wryly details the way 26 little children came to meet their maker. It's wrong but funny and charming. My favourite is Neville. Mostly because the accompaning image is the top of a head and some dark little eyes peering out a huge bank of windows on what looks to be the rainiest day in all time. That and the idea of actually dying of ennui... well that's just so decadent and so victorian.

I sometimes look at the poster and poor Neville and have a chuckle. A self-effacing chuckle. I think it's healthy when you've been holding your own pity party for a couple of weeks too long to step back, compare yourself to a little goth cartoon and just laugh at yourself. I think that's what's been lacking in my quest to cure this case of ennui I've got.

You see, things have not been exactly ideal. I've become so tense and uptight in the last few months, I'm concerned that pretty soon my head will just pop right off. And that's a sign that I'm not dealing.

This week I lost the ability to control what I wasn't dealing with and, for a moment, the uptight facade lost all stability and the problematic emotion came busting out. Anger. I was so angry I felt like I could spit bile. I achieved the height of misanthropy wherein for a fleeting moment I thought that I really and truly hated everyone. I felt like I was choking on hate. The feeling gave me a terrible headache and made me feel ill.

All of this took place internally. To an outside observer it would have simply appeared that I was just standing there (which furthers my curiosity about what random people I see are thinking about). The event that sparked all the anger is completely insignificant out of context. In context, it was ripe with the kind of irony I'm not big enough to share with the whole world as it was just so very cliche.

It lasted for maybe a minute before I started laughing at myself. Because the reality is, that I don't hate anyone. Not even the people who really deserve it. The anger had just been making me toxic and clouding everything.

This might be a good place to toss in a metaphor about the passing of dark storms or about how it can't rain all the time, but I'm trying to keep the cheese at a minimum.

So right now, I feel fine, even good. It could rain for the next week and I'm sure I could fend off any fatal attacks of ennui. At the very least, should I catch myself looking out a bank of windows on a rainy day, I can have a good laugh.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Only" by Nine Inch Nails

HRH