If I was gorgeous and he were taller and a sad gravelly song about love was being crooned in the background, our public fight on Granville at Robson could have been right out of a movie.
As it is, he is of average height and I am merely plain and our only soundtrack was the noise of a busy city failing to come to a halt at our emotions.
Whether this story has a Hollywood ending, though, remains to be seen.
I hate this shit.
This is pretty cool:
It’s a java app that makes you some pretty word art based on your URL or text block. Try it out – it’s nifty; I just killed 20 minutes playing with the different patterns and fonts. It doesn’t seem to work for specific articles, though. No matter what Delicious Juice entry I pointed it at, it came up with content pulled from my main page. Too bad – I would have loved to see a word ball made up of Return to Castle Bonerstein.
Duh – you can PASTE text in. So I did:
Hee!
As I lay awake last night fuming and generally being crabby, I realized two things that made light bulbs go off above my head (which made it that much more difficult to fall asleep):
a) It’s all fine and good to play the “I hate Valentine’s Day because I don’t want to be told when I have to be romantic” card, but your righteous indignation loses most of it’s mustard when you don’t exactly have a distinguished record of spontaneous romance under your belt. Sure, use your outrage as an excuse to not play the Hallmark game – but at least back your statement up with alternates. If you’re not one for impulsive flirty romance – no matter how many times you’re told it would mean a lot – then maybe you shouldn’t scoff at a forced celebration of love. Valentine’s Day is in place exactly because of people like you. If you won’t do all those sappy silly fairy tale romance bullshit activities because you’re “supposed” to, but you won’t do it because you’ve been flat-out asked to, and you won’t do it for no reason at all, and you won’t do it in reciprocate, but you won’t do it if it’s expected of you – well, don’t get upset when I laugh myself to tears when you ask for your steak and blow job a month later.
b) I now know exactly why my mother bought herself so many presents when I was growing up.
Another Friday night, another concert. This time it’s Tegan and Sara, whom I’ve loved since 2001 or so but have never seen live. Should be a really good time. Here’s hoping I won’t have to punch anyone on my way out.
you say it’s not what you do
it’s what you’re thinking of
well i think it’s just an excuse
it’s what you put across
coz i don’t wanna be the one
only overjoyed
i don’t wanna be the one
making all the noise
yeah i don’t wanna be the one
delicious juice dot com 