take me out

i'm serving a customer when i'm suddenly distracted by bits of music, making it through the general white noise of the fish shop that creeps forward on any given day.

"when i get older losing my hair, many years from now..."

yep. the beatles. sixty-four. sgt. pepper's lonely hearts club band. history.

and the only thought going through my head is: "i wonder if you would go with the beat of the music if you were having sex while listening?"

gutter-minded till the end my friends.

so if you're lonely you know i'm here waiting for you

emily and i jam the coat hangers we're brandishing silmultaneously into the doors of melissa's cars.

"see?" pipes up the vox. "this is when you need to have some sort of bad-seed cousin who used to steal cars, because then unlocking the door and getting the keys out would be easier." i don't respond. i'm trying to concentrate. but it continues. "c'mon, it cannot be that difficult. after all, nicholas cage made it look so easy in 'gone in sixty seconds.'"

in the hustle and bustle of the day, melissa managed to have a blonde moment and di indeed lock her keys in the car. instead of being responsible, emily and melissa and i just left it, figuring that emily's dad could break into it for us later.

sadly, he didn't.

and when we arrived home- after seeing the play, spying on some poncy git named dave who was all stuck up about his picture being taken, drinking german white wine and merlot, talking to some guys who were all about slash metal and whose friend was a virgin, avoding the eyes of some narsty old dude who was buying all the young girls drinks and looking down their shirts, and having evaded come-ons by hookers who only sucked cock for a living and wanted to suck the lips of melissa- we simply had no luck with being sneaky car theives.

some day i'll be cool like nick cage. i swear i will.

in the mean time, i'll relish the memories. the non-car theif memories. heh.

'cos it's a bittersweet symphony

leslie's hand flies up to her mouth, the wind and mist whipping her hair across the back of it, the sunlight spalshing jaggedly across everything.

"meg...." she giggles, eyes twinkling and hands uselessly flailing at me. "you're killing me here!"

today was one of those days that was perfect. "yeah yeah yeah.." the bitter and cynical vox in me wants to say. "perfect? how can anything be truly perfect?" but the other half of me that is totally dorky believes that even the imperfect can be perfect. so although, imperfect, it was perfect.

leslie and i went and made a sand castle. just a regular run of the mill sand castle. we went and saw kate at the ice cream store and stole pieces of peanut-butter from the peanut-butter-and-chocolate ice cream. we went to the patch, saw melissa and made impromptu plans for dinner, which actually coalesced into something tangible and real.

"hell," pipes up the vox. "you even baked cookies!"

kate and i were together butnotlikethat, something that hasn't happened in a while. leslie and i got to just talk without having to worry about bus schedules and readings, and melissa called me a mom. i love it.

maybe i'm finally getting convincing at this whole pretending to be an adult thing here.

heh. got myself fooled, that's for sure.

first it giveth

melissa's elbow and mine meet simultaneously as we stare at the screen in front of us, making eyes at the people on the left.

"see?" she whispers, oblivious to anyone around us. "i TOLD you they were hot!"

when my brother first brought home harry potter, i made fun of it and refused to read it. then, after much badgering, i picked it up, read it and proclaimed it to simply be a rip off of roald dahl's style. then, i read the next one, and then the third one. and by the fourth, i had to admit that yeah, this harry potter bloke wasn't that bad... maybe one could even say i liked him.

but i more than liked fred and george.

especially as they are portrayed by oliver and james phelps in harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban.

"wait a minute..." pipes up the vox. "are you feeling ok? this kid is younger than you. yes. YOUNGER."

meh. looks like my old man fetish may be slowly dying off.

i know it's not the right thing

i'm engrossed by the hockey series right now.

it's the stanley cup finals, and me, the girl who doesn't even understand icing real well, is paying close attention to these games between tampa bay and calgary. maybe it's because of the importance placed on hockey in ottawa. maybe it's because i'm bored. maybe it's because tom always has it on.

regardless i'm digging it.

tonight don cherry came on, the man that every single person loves to hate, wearing one of his trademary flamboyant suits. half way through his...rant...he jumps up from his stool, exits the frame and comes back wearing a hat with a maple leaf embroidered on it and the words juno beach above it.

i don't think there are enough thank you's in the world for what those two words mean, for what they were a part of, and for what they stood and stand for.

so, even though i think that this hardly does the sixtieth anniversary of D-day the justice it deserves, i still mean it from the depths of my soul:

thank you.

tomorrow's just an excuse away

"gold!" james exclaims for the third or fourth time as i exit the ladies room. "pure gold!"

harry potter came out today. millions of children descended on their local cinemas and watched as harry and company battled the dementors, tried to find out the secret behind remus lupin's mysterious potions and eventually figured out just who sirius black was.

i wasn't one of the millions. ok i was, but not for harry potter.

instead, james and chas and i went to see shrek 2, wading through the multitudes of little people present for their favourite wizard.

as much as i want to indulge in my harry potter..."obsession? no...umm....interest? no it's more than that. fandom? what a crappy word. but it'll have to do. fandom."....fandom, i have to admit that shrek was worth it.

it was, after all, pure gold.