There are children pleasant!

So, my desktop computer is dying a slow, painful death. I've been fairly convinced that it's on its last legs for roughly 2 years. But now, I'm really sure that it's going to die. I will, once again, start backing up my files.

Reasons I believe my computer is going to die:

1. It's running really slow and no amount of maintenance is speeding things up.


2. It decided that it no longer had Excel installed on it. All I had to do was pop in the MS Office disc for 37 seconds (not install it, just put the disc in) in order for it to realize that it does in fact have Excel.


3. It can take as long as 13 minutes to restart my computer and be able to do things again.


4. It stalls on the stupidest tasks... like opening a folder. It's not even a hidden folder, or tricky in some way. It's a folder on my desktop. It's been there forever.

Reasons it will be really sad if my computer dies tomorrow:

1. I have to ship my laptop back to Toshiba for a new hard-drive and won't get it back for two weeks. I would be without internet for two weeks. *gasp*


2. My laptop is incapable of recording music and I like to, so it doesn't really work for me.


3. A new desktop would also be incapable of recording music (thanks Windows 7), so this dinosaur is my only hope of recording in real time.


4. I haven't backed up my files and probably won't tonight.


5. All my favorites, shortcuts, and in progress projects will be lost (see point 4).

As you can see, the death of my computer would be very sad indeed although not unexpected.

Elise is a jerk

*Disclaimer: This post is girly and is about make up and other girly things. I'm sorry.

I was (I am?) bit of a dummy when it comes to make up and other things really girly. No wonder I'm single. Wait a minute... real men don't like make up!

(Not a real man)

I simply didn't understand the fundamental aspects of make up: colour and technique namely. Basically, I was notoriously bad at picking it out and putting it on.

As per usual, I blamed the 'look' on external forces, like the type and colour of the make up and, don't forget the classic, "I just need to practice" factor.

A number of years ago, I decided that I was going to learn a thing or two about make up. I went to the drug store (some might argue that was my first mistake) and was bombarded by the sheer magnitude of products available.

There were different brands (of course), all with different colours (blue black, black black, brown black, midnight black, soft black) and products for different types of skin. It was all very overwhelming. I think bought one mascara and one nail polish before I ran out of the building.

A few years later, I decided, once again, that I had to learn about make up. So I built up the necessary courage and tackled the drug store once again. Again, I was bombarded by options. I decided that the best thing to do was to buy colours I liked. Complexion and colouring be damned. I picked out a set of really nice plum eye shadows. I applied it according to the package directions, and yet:

Train wreck. I didn't try again for another couple years. Just as I'm in the drug store for the third time eyeing plum eye shadow (I also have memory issues), something catches my eye. It's a set of eye shadow for blue eyes. I have blue eyes! I scooped it up and brought it home. Only:

Less than successful. A couple more years go by and my brother is about to get married. Realizing that the atrocity I call my face would be captured in hundreds of photos I decided I needed professional help. I went to a salon to have my hair and make up done. The lady did my hair and was about to start my make up when she decided to go over the colour scheme with me.

"I think black and gold would look really good on you". My first instinct was "Dear God, that will look hideous, what is she thinking?!?". I toned it down some and expressed my skepticism with a diplomatic "Don't you think black is a little dark for my skin?". She assured me that it was not and it would look good. Based on my judgment in the past, I decided to trust her.

I got compliments all night about this black and gold eye make up. After the fact, I decided to hit the drug store with black and gold in mind. I ended up finding a set of eye shadow that had copper and brown (close enough) for blue eyes. My first instinct was to ditch it based on the hooker look I got from the last blue-eyed-set; I kept looking for "more gold, less copper", but kept coming back to the damn set. I bought it and a fancy brush, applied it according to the package directions and, for the first time ever, I wasn't a train wreck. Almay did something right.

I Heart Foosball

I just wanted to put my love foosball out there. This post is, in no way, shape or form, related to foosball; this post is about painting. I recently painted this cabinet/chest thing of mine and it reminded me of my grandmother. Painting always reminds me of Granny.

Granny wasn't exactly a Domestic Diva; as illustrated in this post when she gave me a raw hot dog for lunch. Thanks Granny. Even though she wasn't known for cooking, or cleaning, or grocery shopping, there was one thing she did more often, and better, than most everyone else. And that thing was painting.

Nearly every year, Granny would paint her kitchen. Other rooms too, but for some odd reason she was painting kitchens more often than not. One time she was 'house sitting' when my mom was out of town for a week; she painted. My mom came back to a blue kitchen... hope you like the colour, Lolo.

Needless to say, it was very common to see Granny with a paint brush in her hand while we were growing up. Kids being kids, and always sticking their noses in where they don't belong, naturally me & Danny wanted to help.

She always humoured us and let us. She'd give each of us a paint brush and we'd go to town.

Granny loved it, I swear. She would always say admiringly how we had 3 generations of painters in the family. Granny called us "The Three Painters". Very original, I know.

I think painting appealed to Granny for the same reasons mowing the lawn appeals to me:

1) Fulfillment from a hard days' work - you work hard, but it looks so much better afterwards, it was worth it. Granny was always talking about 'elbow grease' and things that build your character or put 'hair on yer chest'

2) Instant gratification - you can see the difference as soon as you put the roller to the wall, or the mower to the lawn. You can also see where you left off, which is helpful, considering...

3) Beer breaks - you can have as many as your little heart desires, providing you still get the job done* (*neatly when painting; *safely when mowing)

After we completed enough work for the time being, Granny would announce a beer break. We'd all put down our brushes and rollers and take a break. Granny would crack a cold one and start drinking; me & Danny would... well, ask for some!

She always humoured us and let us. She'd give each of us a glass (with 'just a wee bit') and we'd go to town.

Eventually, we came to like the taste of beer, and even though we had a combined age of 9, we managed to figure out:

One day, she was painting and we were helping (big surprise), Granny announced it was time for a beer break, so we all gathered around the table and had a glass of beer. When we got back to work "the roller had barely touched the wall when..."

Danny declared it was time for a beer break. Granny was never one to turn down a beer, so she played along and we had two beer breaks in a row. Epic day! Danny (being the lush he is) tried to pull it again. Granny was of the "fool me once..." mindset, so she didn't play along the second time.

Granny retold that story time and time again; I think it was her favorite memory of The Three Painters. My favorite memory of The Three Painters, doesn't even involve The Three Painters painting. Wrap your head around that.

One year at Christmas, Granny was decorating the house; me & Danny came out from playing just as she was getting off a ladder. Granny had strung up a silver garland across the living room ceiling; she asked us how it looked, we said it looked good. I don't think she took us very seriously though, because the next time we came out from playing:

Granny: So - how does it look?

...

Danny: Oh - we saw it already.

Me: No - it's gold now!

Danny: Oh - you changed it.

Me: No - she painted it!!!

...

...

Granny: So - how does it look?

 

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations

Talk about misdirected anger!

I've been known to talk in my sleep. I used to do it a lot as a kid, but as I've gotten older, my tendency to talk has diminished. In my sleep, that is; apparently, my tendency to talk in real life has only gotten worse.

There were times when I would be sleeping soundly.

And having a nice dream, that perhaps got a little too vivid.

Since I was asleep, I'd just go right on sleeping.

My brother, however, would be getting home from work and he would hear me in my room, talking.

He'd wonder what the commotion was all about and would come in to check on me. Only to find me alone. And asleep.

I would continue blissfully sleeping, but I would also interact with him. Repeating whatever the hell I was just talking/dreaming about.

He never understood what I was saying. I would keep repeating it, getting louder and louder and more and more agitated, just trying to make him understand.

It wouldn't work. I would just keep yelling and he'd keep saying "WHAT?!?!". To me, (in my sleep-riddled-semi-dream-world) I was being very clear. Enunciating each word carefully and loudly. I didn't realize that, to him (the person that was awake and functioning), I was just a garble-mouth that was making no sense whatsoever.

He would end up walking out and shutting my door. In the morning I would wake up with my door closed and a vague recollection of talking to my brother but I would have no idea what we talked about. And neither would he.

 

Big thanks to EliseArt for lending me her tablet so I could draw these terrible pictures. I totally think I'm buying a tab. I'm sorry.

Janitors aren't waste - they're people

I've known for quite some time that my drawing skills are somewhat... lacking. Despite my lack of talent and perspective, I often try to draw, even if just to give EliseArt a little more to go on than "Me - mopey". She has received a number of very, very bad drawings that were supposed to 'help'.

Even though my pen and paper drawings turn out like that (and sometimes worse), I still occasionally convince myself that if I try hard enough I can draw. I'll open up paint and start trying. When it looks like shit and/or takes far, far too long, I blame my incompetence on external factors, like the mouse. Clearly, it's the mouse's fault that my drawings turn out like this:

So, I started entertaining the idea of buying a drawing tablet so that I have a pen, because that will fix everything. Once I sobered up, I realized that I was kidding myself. I highly doubt that a drawing tablet will help matters. But... since I'm, like, a scientist, and stuff, I need to test this theory out. So, I've asked EliseArt if I can borrow her tablet for the night. When I get said tablet, I will re-create the above picture and you can judge whether or not it's worth me spending the money on a tablet.

*Update: (July 14, 2011) - added tablet picture

 

 *Update: (July 14, 2011) - I think my drawing has improved, but not remarkably. Now I'm at the point where I convince myself that if I practice enough and try hard enough I can do it and the tablet won't be an $80 paperweight. What's your opinion, Mighty Reader?

Disclaimer - I do not intend to draw all pictures in this blog - that would be cruel and unusual punishment and I don't want to lose the 3 readers I've managed to hold on to. EliseArt, you won't get off that easy - you must earn your 12% cut!

Me: I was kidding - learn how to take a joke! EliseArt: Aw, Heather, I missed you!

Judging by my title, I think the Simpsons quote email has gone on too long. Or maybe not long enough. Anyway, I'm going to try and get more posts done in June, but since it's only 3 days until the end of the month, I'm going to have to post things without pictures and without a point. Enjoy.

I moved into the place I live in ... 5 years ago this July 1st. Happy Anniversary! When I first moved in it was shortly after having lost my poor puppy to illness; I wasn't ready to own another animal. So when the ad said "no pets" I didn't really care. But when I had my interview, I wanted to see how serious the landlord actually was, so I asked "The ad says no pets... how do you feel about a cat?" He said "You have a cat?" and I said "No, but I was thinking I might want to get one, one day". He assured me that no furry animal would be living in the house and gave me a list of reasons. I accepted this by giving him my damage deposit and saying "I'll take it!".

Stompy and hubby were always on the landlord to let them get a dog. When I moved in they approached me on the subject. I told them my situation and explained that I might be ready for an animal "some time soon". They started asking me to talk to the landlord and bug him to see if he would let me get a cat or dog. I knew his stance (partially because he told me at the interview, but also because he would complain to me about them constantly bugging him about getting a dog) so naturally, I never bugged him about it.

So Stompy moved out and new people moved in. Every so often I hear a yappy little dog upstairs barking its fool head off. It's not often, so I know that the dog can't possibly live there. I figure, he must be visiting with his owners, right? Makes sense.

Today I was getting out of my car and happened to look up and saw the cutest little white kitty. On their porch. Cats don't usually visit with their owners, do they?? I wonder how long it'll take the landlord to see or hear about the cat.

 

P.S. I probably spent more time linking things in this post than writing it. Cheers to being a devoted blogger!

P.P.S. Therefore, please don't call me on typos or incorrect grammar. Thanks!

There were boats!

I have a few recent driving stories that I would like to share. Mostly because they're so ramdon that they will likely never come up in conversation. 

The first one occurred roughly 10 days ago. It was a Friday - I left work early to go out to the passport office to hand in my application. After battling rush hour traffic (twice) and the passport office, I was having a pretty good time as I was making my way back to work.  At one point the one lane road opened up to two lanes, I got into the new lane and stopped at the red light beside the truck I was just behind. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, it was the passenger in the truck rolling his window down. I looked over, he looked at me and said "You wanna race?", I laughed and said "Yeah, let's do this!" I eyed his truck (a truck that has an engine the size of my car) and said "I have a feeling you might have a bit more power than I do". He smiled and said "Maybe" with a wink.

The light went green and we were off. I accelerated slowly because I didn't actually want to race someone through a park zone in the middle of the day. Even with the slow start, I was a considerable distance ahead of them.  The next block was another red light. They pulled up beside me and the guy said "We weren't ready. Let's try again". I said "Okay, ready, one, two, three" and we were off again because the light had gone green at some point during my countdown. Again, slow start; I was ahead of them, but not by much.  As I'm chuckling at our pathetic excuse for a street race I see traffic ahead and realize that the lane I'm in is backed up for the next two blocks and the lane they're in is totally clear. I couldn't help but laugh when I had to gun it  so I could cut in front of them and avoid traffic. I was happy they were laughing too.

The next incident isn't quite as wow-that-made-my-day as the last. This one happened 2 days ago; I was driving through a parking lot. A car on my left put its reverse lights on just as the front of my car was behind them. By the time my driver's door got behind them, they had almost backed out right into me. It was close. I wasn't able to swerve or go faster because there was a lot of other things going on in front and to the right of me. I could only hope they would stop. They did. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued on my way. A couple of store-lengths later, I'd reached my destination and parked. As I did so, the car that almost hit me was driving past. The driver looked angry, fingered me emphatically and told me to learn how to drive. I was flabbergasted. He was the one that almost backed up into me. What the hell did I do? (Other than have the right of way). I fingered him back, told him to fuck off and went and bought samosas.

Today I was driving home and the hill up to my place was flooded with skateboarders. I see one without a board walking weird; at first I thought it was cuz he was wearing kneepads but then he started sporadically clapping. I was confused. But then it dawned on me... oh... he hurt himself. As I get to the top of the hill he  just came down, two of his buddies were at the top, presumably waiting for their turn. Just as I'm pulling up to the intersection, one of them turned to the other and said something about "that shit really looks like it fucking hurt".  The kid who said it sheepishly made eye contact with me as I stopped at the 4way stop. I don't know if it's cuz I'm a girl, or because I'm old, but he was clearly ashamed of having made the comment. His friend said "How about you wait for cars to pass before you say shit like that", just as I'm clearing the intersection. I burst out laughing and the boys turned around smiling.

And I just remembered another one... I was driving past one of those chipper trucks... you know the landscaping trucks that tow around a chipper? Just as I'm approaching the truck one of the landscapers was on the driver's side making sure everything was secure; he went around the back to check on the passenger side and also get out of my way. As I'm approaching the truck, he's at the back, walking towards the other side.Suddenly, he stopped and turned towards me; at the last second crouched down and did this big "Ta-DA!" production complete with jazz hands and then stood back up and went to go check the other side of the truck. I burst out laughing because it was so unexpected and looked fricken hilarious. A second later, I see him peeking out from behind his truck with a giant smile on his face. I'm not sure which one of us made the others day more.