bossymarmalade: blue eye with lashes of red flower petals (Default)
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bossymarmalade: black woman and indian woman playing mas (birds of paradise)
Occasionally I see things like my cousin Francine's blog about her international Overlanding adventures and wonder what the hell I've done with my life. Then I think about how she knows a multitude of languages because she and her husband Dave have moved more than a dozen times following his job, and she does all this outdoorsy shit, and she's happy with staying in hostels and picking up hitchhikers and meeting brand-new people everywhere, and I feel just fine right where I am. XD

In actual travel that *I* can manage, Lori and I visited our half-brother Richard in Toronto for his 50th. We only had a few days so we saw our cousin Brenda, who fed us fresh pholourie and jerk chicken (*weeping*); Richard took us to a roti buffet (*weeping increases*), where we had the most delicious mauby and also bought some kurma and currants rolls and doubles (*weeping at maximum levels*).

There were West Indian restaurants on every corner! Why won't anybody come out Vancouver way and open a roti shop, goddammit? The doubles were like $1.25 each! Here at the single roti shop out in New Westminster they're EIGHT FUCKING DOLLARS EACH!!!! Anyhow we glutted ourselves quite properly and then for Rich's actual birthday we went to a steakhouse called Harry's. Torontonians will probably know how expensive this place is. Lori and I had no idea (not that we were expected to pay thank god). The bill for four people was like $600. I have never nor ever will again have a meal that pricey -- but the steak sure was delectable.

While I wouldn't want to live in the T-Dot, I can't help but be a little wistful that we grew up on this side of the country while all our Canadian family live on the other side. Meeting them again as adults was very ... enlightening, without the extremely biased opinions of our mother to colour our views, and I felt for the first time a real connection with them. We got lots of exhortations to stay longer next time so we could spread our days among the family, who were eager to host us. It was a nice feeling.

Plus talking to family always gives us unexpected gossip and insights into the reality of our relatives, rather than what Mom (an unreliable narrator) decides to share and Dad (who lives in denial) doesn't talk about. For the first time we learned our Nani wasn't a living saint the way Mom tells it! And that's a relief, tbh.
bossymarmalade: the little man from another place  (between the lodges)
SO I finally watched the new season of Twin Peaks, the 25 years later one, and was summarily disappointed.

spoilerinos )

In less annoying news, we've been binge watching Chopped and cheering for every loudmouth dude who comes in boasting that the other contestants "might as well go home now" and thinking that with their fauxhawks and hipster beards and tatts it makes them super-edgelords to get cut in the first round. Hopefully before any of the female contestants who they dismissively refer to as "girls".

Happy International Women's Day!!
bossymarmalade: rachel berry is dubious (*side-eye*)
My foolish, greedy cat decided to sample some olive oil and balsamic vinegar, started huffing and wheezing and then drooling uncontrollably, and ran upstairs while I frantically looked up whether vinegar was toxic for kitties. It is not, so I went upstairs and found her nursing her hurt pride under my bed. She's more aggressive about getting attention these days, now that I have a CPAP and don't allow her into my room at night since she nibbles at the tubing.

Watched Rent! Live the other night (my god it was long) and it seems so unnecessary that they had to kibosh most of it due to one dude's broken foot. No understudy, really? Is this an episode of Glee? Anyhow why am I even complaining, I only watch Rent in order to yell at the characters and interject 'Baggage!" at inappropriate places.

We've been watching the Brit and the Canadian Great Baking Challenges, and it makes my fingers itch to start experimenting in the kitchen again. But I get tired so easily these days! I mostly end up sleeping if I have free time, sigh. My counselor advised me to make myself do something when I feel that way, any old thing, and some days that works and some it doesn't. Which is why one side of my bed has a passable floor and the other side has a Mount Doom of half my wardrobe dumped on it. The cat takes a running leap to get over it.

I had perogie pizza for lunch and now I feel so bloated, urgh. Why do I eat at Boston Pizza ever? Why is it even named Boston Pizza? 

Randomly, I came across a Watchmen ficlet that gave me shivers, it's so good. It's for P*rn Battle, though, so maybe not workplace reading.

-  terminus - dan/rorschach | It’s 1977, early March, and Dan is sick of everything. 
bossymarmalade: the folks from inception stand around (this MUST be a DREAM)
Thank you to [personal profile] dine and [personal profile] stellamira for your lovely holiday cards! It's still thrilling to get mail at the new place; it means we're there for a good long time and I don't have to keep using my folks' address, heh.

Lori and I mainlined the new Titans show and omg, it's so deeply fulfilling to see a DC property made in a way that we feel on a visceral level! Plus the most perfect racebending of Kori and Gar to ever exist! Plus you-know-who showing up for the first time in non-animated form and before he becomes the woobie asshole that everybody inexplicably adores! Plus Dick Grayson cussing = happytimes for me. Also DONNA EEEEE OMG DONNAAAAAAAAAA

In other blithering on about tv, 1) why is Carla Gugino so goddamn hot and 2) why was there not more Craincest represented in Yuletide. We are watching Haunting of Hill House on repeat, as you can tell. I mean I know it's like the lovechild of The Others and Inception, but hey, it's done in such an evocative way! And I've always been a sucker for characterization over plot any day. Plus, idly, I wonder if more ppl in fandom relate to Theo, or to Luke. Or maybe Nell? I can't see anybody admitting they're a Steve or a Shirley. PS. I am a Steve.

I hear The Children on tumblr are, in their posts about Mary Poppins, tagging a certain actor as #dick van d-slur. I just ... insert gif of Principal Skinner here. Either the one that says "no, it's the children who are wrong" or even better, "up yours, children!"

Tim Hortons has some kind of new flavour Timbit that I plucked out of an assortment and I don't know what it was. Maple? Caramel? Coffee? Toffee? Toffee coffee? It was confusing and I didn't like it. New Timbits have no place in my world.

Now excuse me, I need to go stick my finger in a d-slur.
bossymarmalade: jim kirk loves apples (my foot's cold)
For anybody looking for free online radio to play for the holidays at the office or suchlike, Accuradio is a good bet! You can even blend the stations together so you don't have to listen to chestnuts roasting for the eleventh goddamn time.

I must remember to look into [community profile] fandom_stocking again; it's been so long I don't remember the premise or the rules!!

Hey, Montrealers -- We just got an eggspectation here and I'm wondering if I should forgive it for replacing the one IHOP in town that isn't a grotty run-down mess. Does it compare favourably against, say, Cora?
bossymarmalade: the liquor fairy visits (plenty of wholesome nutritious alcohol)
 The prompts for Yuletide this year look pretty interesting, I'm looking forward to reading the fics that come of them. And I'm sad, oddly, that Make the Yuletide Gay is coming to an end! If I'd known that I might have signed up for it, heh. I have since rediscovered my adoration of BSB (except Howie, good god what is WRONG with Howie) and Veal has grown into a very nice-looking bull, so there's that. I might just do [personal profile] pensnest's SeSa/MTYG meme if I'm not lazy about it, which there is a very good chance I will be.

[personal profile] glockgal and I went to Victoria this weekend to see the Egypt exhibition at the Royal BC Museum, and then the Remembrance Day observances at the Parliament building.(pictures forthcoming once I get them up on instagram). But we learned a valuable and stupid lesson from BC Ferries: if you pay for a reservation, you have to tell them at the booth because it's too much work for them to look and see if the piece of paper says 'reservation' and they'll send your car to wait in the long line of folks who might not find room on the ferry. Also that line will make you park on Level 2 and climb up six flights of steep stairs to the passenger deck to jockey with grim grandparents and dirty backpackers for a seat. Whereas with a reservation, you get to park on Level 4, and you can either climb the two sets of stairs to the passenger deck or you can <i>stay in your car</i> because it's a fresh air deck and not down below. LESSON LEARNED.

[personal profile] goss has painted a Tony Stark - Matt Murdock art that's somehow tense and pretty at the same time.


bossymarmalade: jc chasez's hair doing its thing  (my hair is fandom's lifeline)
 I randomly googled 'stubbleglitter' which I do from time to time to see what's going on with that persona (don't pretend y'all don't do that too or I won't believe you) and I found an academic paper about fandom that referred to my fic smile for the fans. The basic gist of the (really, quite nasty little) story is that JC finds the fans kind of grotesque and intrusive and awful, but pretends he loves them because, y'know, they pay his bills.

What shocked me a little was that the writer of this paper took it to mean that I'd intended to sympathize with JC's disgust, and provide an inside look at how hard it is to be a fancy popstar and have to fake enjoyment of shitty pencil crayon drawings of yourself and rage internally at the unfairness of the squandering of your musical genius. I mean, blah blah authorial intent doesn't necessarily have anything to do with how the story's read and interpreted, but this is the first time I've had it happen to me personally and it's weird, lol! Couldn't she have just quoted one of, I dunno, the GSF stories and said something about female subversion of the male gaze?
bossymarmalade: this is what an asexual looks like (i only find you theoretically hot)
 At some point you just get tired of the echo chamber that is tumblr, y'know?

Seeing those kids shouting into the void makes me so, so thankful that my era of fandom was one that was infinitely more personal. Fic writers now barely get more than somebody hearting their stories; I'm old enough to remember when we'd write each other long feedback emails (or LoCs, if you like) and we'd even include what didn't quite work for us along with the general squeeing. It helped me learn how to accept constructive criticism and how to write more clearly and less self-indulgently.

I talk to younger writers on tumblr and they don't even read each others' stories. There's no real sense of community other than the -- I'm gonna say it -- mob mentality where everything's black and white and if you don't believe X or you dare to write Y, then you are automatically a paedophile/homophobe/etc. 

Which is to say, I'm super lucky to have gotten to fandom when I did, and I'm super lucky to have had the likes of you guys around me. <3

(On a bitchier note: OMG WHAT IS WITH THE 'IMAGINES', ALL OF THEM FULL OF DIALOGUE THAT INEVITABLY INCLUDES "I LOVE YOU, Y/N")
bossymarmalade: bart simpson hopes for a prize in the cereal box (you gotta be lucky *sometime*)
It was only when I saw a Deadpool on the way to the hospital that I realized the Colonel Sanders I saw at the grocery an hour before was in costume. Ah, Vancouver.

(Also I am 98.9% sure that somewhere in the city, Ryan Reynolds is in fact wandering around in a Deadpool costume)
bossymarmalade: myrna loy as 'exotic temptress' (that's eskimo!)
 The 5th floor advertised a Halloween Bake Sale so I went up there all prepared with a bag and everything and all they had was some piddly store-bought stuff and honestly the sense of betrayal I feel right now cannot be assuaged by the mini red velvet cupcake I bought to save face.
bossymarmalade: man peeling sugarcane (this our native land)
I have recently started volunteering for a couple hours a week at a Jewish old folks' home, since they had an opening for somebody to arrange their digital music collection and create playlists for the residents and this sounded like stuff that I do for fun anyhow. I'm not Jewish but they don't mind that since there are non-Jewish people among the residents and staff as well, although so far the people I've interacted with have been surprised to find that as a gentile I have a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish culture. Which I found surprising in turn, because I assumed that this was the sort of information that people absorbed naturally? I mean, lots of what I know is from Jewish characters in tv shows and books, and some from documentaries, and some from reading about cooking all the time. I mentioned this to [personal profile] glockgal and she said no, I shouldn't think that people generally know anything about religions/cultures that aren't their own. Her theory is that since we grew up in Trinidad, where we get Hindu and Muslim and Christian holidays off, we thought it was normal and natural to learn about other people's religious observances, but in North America it's not. But anyhow.

I went in for an initial orientation and was fed grapefruit punch, chocolate chip macaroons, and egg matzoh (it was a couple days into Passover) and listened to the coordinator while the teenagers next to me texted under the table. On my first day of actual volunteer work, Lori and I used a groupon to go to La Piazza Dario's, where we split an antipasto plate, fettuccine al pistaccio, and a piece of gateau St. Honore. I had an Italian sour. My volunteer coordinator called to ask if I could, instead of getting started on the music project, come in at 1 to fill in for the volunteer who was supposed to accompany some of the residents to the grocery store, and did I have any wheelchair experience. "Marginal," I said, "and I'm at lunch, I won't be able to get there till 1:30 when I was supposed to come in."

"Oh, they'll wait for you then," the coordinator said, and that's how I found myself crammed in next to a powder-blue walker in the front seat of a private bus filled with seniors as it careened the four blocks to the supermarket and my Italian sour sloshed around in my stomach. The shopping trip itself was faintly nervewracking, as my charge kept standing up from her wheelchair and I drove it alternately too quickly, too slowly, and too close to the shelves in the aisles. But she was a nice lady when all was said and done and paid for, and we joined some of the other ladies at the Starbucks in the grocery.

The lady next to me, Sylvia, was 101 years old and ate a croissant as she showed me her scarf and told me that people kept asking her where she'd bought it, but she couldn't tell them, as it was a gift. Then she started speaking to me in Hindi. It took me a moment to understand what was happening -- she was white, and I only recognize Hindi by sound -- and I had to tell her that I don't speak or understand. "Oh," she said, "I speak fluent Hindustani, I speak it with the girls at the home. I was born in Calcutta, you know, my father worked for Lloyd's of London in the tea trade there." I think she said Lloyd's of London, I'm not sure. I doubt I could have said anything worthwhile in response anyways. She tried a little more Hindi with me and then politely dropped it.

In that entire experience, the most surreal part of it was sitting with somebody who knew India, could speak and understand Hindi, knew Indian culture, and whose family legacy was directly the reason why I, with my brown skin and Hindu family transplanted from the tea to the cane fields, don't have that language and that knowledge. The white daughter of a tea merchant and the brown daughter of indentured labourers, and only one of us had Hindi in her mouth. She was eating her croissant. I was drinking iced tea. Sixty years and the kala pani and our positions in the colonial hierarchy separating us until randomly because some other volunteer couldn't make it, our disparate lifepaths came face-to-face in a Safeway in Vancouver, one rainy Monday afternoon. Our diasporas make strange travelling companions of us all.
bossymarmalade: two cups of coffee from paris je t'aime (chocolate tea or coffee tea)
Upon rewatching Pulp Fiction, I realized during a scene with Esmeralda Villa Lobos drinking coffee in her car that when this movie came out and I was graduating high school, if you wanted to take coffee with you somewhere, you used a thermos and drank out of the cap. And how when coffee shops first started cropping up, it was confusing because we were all like, "Why would you ever go to one of those places and just sit there with coffee when you could go to an actual place with food?" We didn't have Tim Hortons out in Vancouver back then, heh.

And in other nostalgic coffee ruminations, we've been watching Family Ties on Netflix and in one episode Alex boldly stated (at age 16 or 17) that he would drink a cup of coffee with his uncle. And his mom told him, "Okay, but half milk, honey, because you haven't had coffee before," and I was like, fuuuuuuck. Remember those days? When you had to be OLD ENOUGH to drink coffee? My parents very occasionally allowed us weak half-milk instant coffee, full of sugar. That was it. When I was a teenager coffee was such an adult beverage, and now elementary school kids trot around with Starbucks. The world I growed up in is gone.
bossymarmalade: blue eye with lashes of red flower petals (Default)
I just cleaned out my entire room, including dusting vacuuming sorting sweeping and mopping, yay! This is a big deal since junk and dust have just been piling up since I had a hysteroscopy in January and had the post-operative depression reaction to it (I have never had any surgical procedures apart from getting wisdom teeth pulled and I'm almost forty, so). Also I have been dragging my feet on getting my results since I was supposed to call in two weeks afterwards and it is now two MONTHS afterwards, yikes.

Anyhow! Do any of you lovely people have a recommended method for sharing music these days? I used to just FTP songs to my webspace and then link them for download, but there's probably an even easier method around now. I've got a copy of "Sing Me the Songs: Celebrating the Works of Kate McGarrigle" that I think many of you would enjoy and I wanna spread the love!
bossymarmalade: (pre-coital coffee)
So [personal profile] glockgal and I ended our tumblr DCU RP after three years, and we both feel good about it b/c we accomplished a lot of what we'd wanted to and wrote with a lot of incredible people and characters. But three years is a long time to mod something, and our entire energy stocks have been used up by shenanigans (the best example? One person flounced and then three months later snuck back into the game to try and take us down from the inside). So goodbye Justice Lounge, you were wonderful and productive.

Anyhoo! If any of you wonderful folks are on tumblr in the wilds of indie RPing, here's my Ollie Queen journal. I am not actively searching for non-DCU characters to write with but if it's any of you fine folks that's a different kettle of fish! Also I have some AU 'verses up, so if you ever wanted to write your character in a Deadwood or Boogie Nights (ish) AU then come on over. :)

A co-worker just gave me an olive that had been stuffed with lemon and I must say it was PHENOMENAL.
bossymarmalade: girl enjoying music (wine and get on bad)
 Work is horrifying! Okay, now I've gotten that out of the way.

It seems to be impossible to find good strawberries or peaches here anymore. I keep waiting for that magical moment in the summertime (the only thing I look forward to in summer, as I despise the heat and sunshine and hide in our hobbit hole cursing at the light for those months) where strawberries are those sweet fresh little ruby darlings that you can buy in green cartons off the side of the road in Richmond where it's still farmland, or big bursting nectar peaches whose fragrance lures you in from halfway across the produce aisle. Both have been sadly missing in the last few years. All we get are the big cottony tasteless strawberries, the hard dry flavourless peaches. I am so desolate! The last time I had good strawberries it was a tiny carton that I had to elbow hipsters out of the way for at the Farmers' Market and I paid an exorbitant amount for them. 

On the pop culture front, it's interesting now that Lori and I have been living without cable for a few years and just depending on Netflix. It's a constant surprise to see what new movies/shows/products exist in the world. I am sort of enjoying it, the novelty of having things sprung on me. I mean, I know this is the exact age where I start saying "kids these days" and tut-tutting over social media, and I try to resist that urge, but there really are things I miss.

We were watching Almost Famous the other night and the part where the kid is going through his sister's record collection, touching all the covers and opening them and exploring them so reverently, and shit, I remember that. First with records, the paper pages inside that sometimes had lyrics and illustrations, the actual paper sleeve of the record, and then with our Disney records the way they had an illustration from the movie in the actual wax. And then tape cassettes, unfolding out the cardboard insert to see if the lyrics were in there, playing that damn tape until it started unspooling, getting one of those dual-cassette machines so you could cut-record-pause-record and make your mixtapes, and how you'd always have a stock of very short songs to fill up that awkward last few minutes on each side. And even CDs, the process of flipping through them at the store and then bringing them home, peeling off the cellophane, doing the same liner notes ritual as you listen to the disc for the first time all the way through. I miss that. Music for me now is so intangible, it's just something out there up there in the atmosphere. There's no process and no ritual. I'm not saying music shouldn't develop, of course, just that I miss the visceral relationship I used to have with it.
bossymarmalade: blue eye with lashes of red flower petals (Default)
I was gonna make some sort of post about what's going on in my life right now, but then I got distracted reading all the comments in this old post of mine about people's strangest occupational hazards. People were wandering in off the network to leave comments, heh. I guess we all just need somewhere to vent about what work makes us endure.

Hey there, everybody. :)
bossymarmalade: chris kirkpatrick & justin timberlake conversing (like cartography in a way)
 I am going to eat coleslaw and half of a cheeseburger for breakfast. Then perhaps half a cantaloupe. [note: I wrote this post this morning, and did indeed eat the burger]

. Lori got a bunch of boxes from her work because she wants to build a temporary playhouse for the cat, filled with crinkly cellophane and toys and treats. I intend to do no work on this project and will merely sit back and watch the cat a) go bonkers and play with it endlessly or b) ignore it completely.

. Rumblings of a standard minimum wage are afoot, much like the Mincome of the 70s. I sincerely doubt that we will ever see anything like this in a Harper government, but one can still dream. Also the comments to that article are strangely not as loathsome as comments sections tend to be.

. Last time we were at a Fred Meyer's we picked up some Twinkies, and then realized that American Twinkies taste different from Canadian ones! They're slightly bigger and more pale, with a distinct citrus taste and a sweetness that hits the back of your throat. Canadian ones are browner and have a more caramelized, less sweet taste. We like the Canadian ones btw. The American ones also have these odd little ... cake clots in them.

. Also I just remembered I have a bunch of Def Jam Poetry up in my dropbox, for whoever's interested. Be warned that the topics covered in the poems can be very triggery. 


bossymarmalade: jc chasez's hair doing its thing  (my hair is fandom's lifeline)
 . In addition to visiting the folks today, I also have a hair appointment this afternoon!!  My making hair appointments is sporadic and vague, but this salon claims that the stylists will help you figure out what style will look best with your face shape, so I'm looking forward to that. Although I didn't care for the way that my co-worker kept congratulating me for making a hair appointment. Thanks so much, lady.

. Should you have the funds/inclination, please consider donating to my friend's drive to
get some technology into her elementary school classroom! The school is in a low-income area and she's doing a fund-matching project to get her Extended Foreign Language kids (from what I gather, it's like French Immersion in Canada -- they learn in Spanish along with English) a few classroom laptops to help with their retention and expression. She's good people and these tools would really make a difference for these kids and the classes that come after! Just enter the code INSPIRE on the payment page and you'll be matched dollar for dollar (up to $100).



 
bossymarmalade: niobe negotiates life in rome (you know how the gods hate nonsense!)
I got some peanut butter to keep at work today for breakfasts -- I generally have squirrely bread toast with avocado or cheese or egg or peanut butter -- and it has a recipe on the back for cookies. With no flour! Just peanut butter, sugar, and an egg. I am intrigued but also wary. Have any of you tried making cookies like that? 

I also tried poaching chicken breasts for the first time so I could make chicken salad and stuff like that. Normally I roast chicken if I want it for other applications, but I figured I'd try poaching and followed a Martha Stewart recipe where you bring the poaching liquid to a boil, put the chicken in, boil for about three minutes and then remove it from the heat. The residual heat in the liquid supposedly cooks the chicken over the next fifteen minutes. I feel like I should have boiled it a little longer, because although it wasn't pink in the middle it still had that ... texture that to me signals that it's not cooked enough. But apart from that, it was surprisingly tasty for poached chicken. I might try poaching some salmon too!

Tomorrow I am gonna visit the parents and pick up one of the 40lb sacks of pine pellets that Meera uses for litter. I think I'll take my dad with me, because he likes to feel as though his daughters need him to do masculine tasks once in a while, and I think he wants to be kind of involved in taking care of Meera, awww dad. He asks how she's doing every time he calls. Sometimes more than he asks how Lori's doing, lol.

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bossymarmalade: blue eye with lashes of red flower petals (Default)
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