Archive for the 'absurdity' Category

Wine and Love

Hosted and dreamed up by the lovely Nora of Walking with Nora.

Why I need wine this week:

  • All round, general crankiness and fussiness – I can’t pinpoint a specific cause, but it’s been a cranky/fussy week for me. It’s as if I’m walking around in jeans that are too small – the discomfort is so slight you can’t actually figure out what’s wrong but you know something is – except apply that to everything in my life this week.
  • The rain – this is perhaps the cause of point #1. Aside from the break we had tonight (thank the heavens!) it has been raining and gray all week. I can’t take much more of this.
  • The humidity – also related to point #1 and #2. Curly hair does not behave in humid weather and all this rain is cramping my style. I’ve already busted out the hardcore summer hair products to fight the frizz. And why yes, I do have seasonal hair care products. Doesn’t everyone?

What I have loved this week:

  • BBQs in the sun – it’s been raining pretty much all week but the sun peaked through this evening just in time for a BBQ at a friend’s place. Nothing beats sitting on the patio and enjoying some burgers.

Check me out being a BBQ queen!

  • This video:

For those that don’t know, I work in agriculture which makes this video a million times more amazing for me. We joke around in my office about covering everything in glitter and how much the farmers would appreciate that and now I have proof that they would TOTALLY love a bedazzled tractor.

  • The Hunger Games – as the next big YA series, I was totally expecting another Twilightesque book that sucks you in while making you feel ashamed because it’s so bad. But, it’s not! It sucks you in AND it’s a good story (so far, I haven’t even finished the first book yet. No spoilers!).
  • A 4-day weekend. Monday is a holiday and I’ve taken tomorrow off AND I have ABSOLUTELY nothing planned. I am beyond excited.

It sneaks up on you

I have a problem.

Actually, I have many problems, but today we’ll just discuss the one. No need to overwhelm you with my inability to maintain a filing system or my ADD when it comes to my desktop wallpaper.

Nope, today, let’s tackle my inability to draw the line between ironic* love and real love.

As someone who enjoys humourous things (are there people out there who don’t?), I especially enjoy loving things ironically. It usually starts small with me jokingly using a funny word or me jokingly confessing my undying love for something weird. But, then it builds. And it builds. And it build some more until BAM! one day I full on actually love something totally embarrassing/inappropriate/lame/ridiculous/all of the above.

So here are some examples:

I used to HATE when people called each other baby. I made this hatred well known and I scoffed at anyone that used that word when not referring to an ACTUAL infant. In fact, I often used to tell people that “the only person that I would ever allow call me baby is Patrick Swayze because ‘no one puts Baby in a corner.'”

This hatred of the word made it all the more funny when I would jokingly call Matt baby. I knew it bugged him and I thought it was funny and it wasn’t a big deal until 2 years went by and now it’s a THING. As in, I actually use that word as a term of endearment. It’s not a joke anymore, it’s something that naturally comes out of my mouth when I talk to Matt (albeit, never in public because I still have some standards).

In a similar example, I started saying OMG as a joke because I thought it was absolutely ridiculous that people would actually say that. Now, it’s a THING that I say, often. I can no longer claim that I’m using it as a joke, we’re past that.

Or, how about the time when I ironically started liking Ke$ha. I thought she was the most ridiculous artist out there and I was dead certain she wouldn’t be any more than a one hit wonder. This certainty allowed me to drop my guard and embrace her insanely catchy single while still maintaining my integrity by laughing at the fact that THERE IS A DOLLAR SIGN IN HER NAME!

But, then she wasn’t a one hit wonder and she released ANOTHER catchy track. I had no problem bopping along in my car and getting my dance on to that second single. I still made fun of her $ and I saw past the glitter facade to recognize that she mostly clothed herself in garbage.

By the third single, I recognized that I should probably be ashamed of my poor taste in music and I tempered my listening enjoyment of her music by quickly switching over to something more acceptable like Arcade Fire or Mumford & Sons.

But now, there is no going back. I am a FULL ON Ke$ha fan and I can’t hide it anymore. It started as a joke and it happened by accident, but it is now the truth and I must embrace it. I LOVE the glitter, I LOVE the unicorns, I eagerly read all the latest gossip about her and once I even watched a YouTube video of a concert of hers (she has cannons that shoot glitter!). I still recognize that she’s probably not the most talented artist out there, but I can no longer deny that talent isn’t all that important when you’re covered in glitter and pumping out an awesome beat.

I won’t blame you if you judge me for these indiscretions. Just beware that this sort of thing can happen to anyone. Don’t let what has happened to me happen to you. Or, do let it happen because honestly, that music video with James VanDerBeek in it is AMAZING!

*I fully realize I am probably misusing the word ironic. Ever since Alanis messed with my head I’ve lost my grasp of the appropriate use of that word and I’m too lazy to look it up right now and confirm its proper use.

Rusty

I’m sort of rusty with this whole blogging thing.

Back when I used to update this here ole’ webpage regularly, blogging came naturally. My day-to-day activities easily transposed themselves in my mind as posts. When funny things would happen or when I did stupid stuff, I automatically thought “this will make a good post.”

But, it seems I’m out of practice. I’m struggling to come up with things to write about and yet I desperately want to write again. It’s the worst kind of writers block. I’m hoping this blockage is temporary. Maybe I just need to accept that I’ll probably write some crappy posts until I get my groove back. I need to keep reminding myself that groove takes practice.

In the meantime, check out these awesome shoes I saw today. I want them so bad and yet I know they are absolutely absurd.

Someday, I’ll have enough bad ass groove to pull these off.

60 years together

My family celebrated my grandparents 60th anniversary this past weekend.

I’ll give you a minute to let that sink in:

60 years

Are you there yet? Comprehended how many years – how many DECADES – that is devoted to the same person. That’s 10 years more than double my entire lifetime!

To celebrate, my grandparents and their 6 children and their 6 spouses did a tour of our hometown stopping at each and every place my grandparents have lived in. My grandparents moved to my small hometown right after they married. They chose it almost arbitrarily as it was a central location for my grandfather’s job with the railroad.

It’s insane for me to think that they chose this town for nothing more than the convenience of its location when the town has become so much more to our family. Both of my grandparents were heavily involved in the community; my grandpa was on the school board and my grandma was once named “Mother of the Year” in the local paper. Today, a lot of my family still live in this small town and they are all involved in the community. My cousin coaches a hockey team, another cousin referees soccer and my aunt has been an integral part of the Relay for Life event held every year. For those that don’t live in town, myself included, we still visit as often as possible and keep up with the news through the rest of the family.

As a town that means so much to my family, it’s hard to imagine a time when we weren’t a big part of its history. But, it seems that time exists and my grandparents have just built their lives in a way that most people don’t remember it.

After the tour of their past homes, the “grown ups” joined the grandkids for dessert and celebration (I say grown ups because a good portion of my grandparents’ 16 grandkids are adults now). We sat around eating cake and talking about the past 60 years. My aunt brought a large box full of newspaper clippings. Apparently, my grandma has saved every newspaper photo and article that featured anyone in the family and quite a few that featured others not in the family. She had even saved clippings of my aunt before she had even started dating my uncle and become part of the family – it’s like my grandma KNEW!

I saw the newspaper photo of my mom in the prom court and read my parents’ wedding announcement. My brother’s hockey tournaments were all there along with my sister’s skating competition wins. I read my birth announcement and the article that the local paper ran about the play I was a part of in Grade 4 (I played Jiminy Cricket in an adaptation of Pinocchio).

It was really cool to be able to go through these old memories, some of my own and many of them not, with the rest of my family. But, it made me wonder, what will I sift through with my grandkids on my 60th wedding anniversary?

We live in an age of blogs and Twitter and YouTube and self-publishing. It’s cool to think of what it will be like to revisit these mediums of record with the next generation. Will we be trolling the Library of Congress‘ database to find tweets I sent? Will my grandkids one day read this exact post? Heaven forbid will they read something else I wrote that’s less-than-impressive and slightly embarrassing?

Thinking too hard about this may make me reconsider that tweet I sent about my solution to cleaning chocolate chips off the couch. But, I don’t plan to think too hard about it and just enjoy the idea of following my grandparents’ example and spending 60 years with someone I love.

a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness

While I was reading before bed the other night, Matt skulked around the apartment on the hunt for something to read.

Unlike my love of respectable series, Matt doesn’t read a lot of fiction. He reads a lot of what I would consider history textbooks. But this evening, his biography of Hitler just wasn’t cutting it. So he traipsed to the bookshelf to find a book and eventually plunked down beside me.

Within no time, he was interrupting my reading with laughs. I roll over to find him reading an old Winnie the Pooh book. The section he was finding so amusing was when Pooh was stuck in Rabbit’s front door. This was his favourite part:

“Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn’t because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said:

‘Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?’

So for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh, and Rabbit hung his washing on the South end…”

[via]

Now this little excerpt would not be as important had I not read the following headline in the Globe and Mail, one of Canada’s most prominent National newspapers the next day:

Bear with head stuck in jar eludes wildlife officials

Apparently in Northern Ontario a young bear got his head stuck in a pickle jar. Now, my immediate reaction was to laugh but truly this must have been a very scary ordeal for the bear. He couldn’t eat or drink.

Wildlife officials were looking for the bear to try to help him get unstuck.

Fortunately, there was a new headline yesterday:

Jarring ordeal over for bear whose head was stuck

Apparently the wildlife officials never found the bear but a canoeist found the jar in question with claw marks and tufts of fur inside. The bear, it seems, found a way to escape.

My only hope is that this bear had someone to read him a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness while he was stuck in such a pickle.

Music meltdown

We’ve been driving a lot this summer. Matt’s family and my family live about 2.5 hours away and between pre-wedding events for my brother’s upcoming nuptials and Matt’s family get togethers, we’re on the road home many weekends.

It’s not a great drive; it’s not a bad drive, but it is a lot of hours in the car. With a lot of hours in the car comes a lot of hours of music. Although Matt and I don’t have the exact same taste in music we do enjoy each others favourites and there are rarely arguments over what to listen to. We have a pretty solid system where the passenger is in charge of the ipod but the driver has veto  on song choice.

[via]

But, it’s not all hunky-dory (why does no one use this word anymore, it’s amazing!). See, Matt is particularly particular about what type of music he feels like right this second.

For me, I choose my music based on my mood. If I’m pumped up and excited about the weekend, then my ipod play list features the likes of Gaga, the Ting Tings and the Black Eyed Peas. If I’m more mellow and relaxed, I’ll move to the Avett Brothers, Counting Crows or Dave Matthews. If I’m in between moods or undecided about my mood, I’ll go for something with a bit of an out of the box sound like Modest Mouse.

All of these choices seem pretty basic and self-explanatory to me. If you break it down, I pretty much find songs that fit the beat of my mood.

But, Matt is infinitely more complex in his music choices. What mood he’s in is important, but it is certainly not the only ingredient when he mixes his cocktail of “music I’ll listen to right this second“.

Nope, he has to make it all complicated and therefore he has to make my life complicated because inevitably I’ll pick the wrong music and be forced to find an acceptable alternative.

From what I can gather, Matt’s music falls into many categories and in order to get the right music you must have taken courses in advanced library sciences in order to figure out the appropriate cross-references that will lead to the perfect song or artist right this second.

First of all, the music must suit the season. There are summer songs and winter songs. Now, you’d think this is simply his aversion to listening to Katy Perry’s California Gurls* in November or his hatred of Here Comes Santa Claus in July. But no, the seasonal categories are deep and scientifically cataloged. Unfortunately, I can’t even find my way through the Dewy Decimal system let alone Matt’s catalog of seasonally appropriate music. He has entire albums and favourite songs that he only listens to for 4 months of the year.

So far, I’ve discovered that Weezer is most certainly summer appropriate. After that, I’m lost.

But, it doesn’t end there. Once you’ve nailed down the summer/winter schism then you have to cross-reference with the weather. Is it raining? Is it sunny? Is it humid? Are we about to get a thunderstorm? Are we in the middle of a thunderstorm? Yes, I bet the music for pre-thunderstorm weather is different from the music for mid-thunderstorm weather.

Finally, you have the time of day to fit into the shakedown. Is it early? Too early for raucous rock music? Or is it just the right time for some loud wake-me-up jams? Is it mid-afternoon? Dusk? Midnight? Do you want the music that will keep you awake while driving or are you awake enough but it’s just that right amount of dark outside that it’s time for some relaxing Simon & Garfunkle?

Gah! How’s a girl to navigate such a minefield of no that’s not quite right? Does anyone else pick their music like this? I know one of Matt’s brothers is the same way but the other brother picks his music more like I do – based only on what he feels like listening to.

How do you pick what to listen to? Is it half as complicated as this?

*Why do people do this! Why do they spell things incorrectly on purpose. It’s not cute. It’s not funny. It’s certainly not witty. In fact, it makes you look like a schmuck. I think Katy and the owner of the Krazy Karpets down the street from me need to review their word lists more carefully.

A shameful confession in which I admit to becoming a reclusive 11-year-old

This past month, I have become a bit of a recluse. I got a little wrapped up in a book series and it was like being stuck in a death trap. On one hand, I was completely enthralled by the story that was weaved through the 2000 plus pages.

But, on the other (very large) hand, I lost my life. I spent almost every waking hour reading and when little things like eating, work, family engagements, etc got in the way, part of my brain was still thinking about it.

On the third hand was the embarrassment. This series is very popular and has a lot of fans. Of this, I am not ashamed. It’s the part where all of those fans range in between the ages of 11 and 16 that concerns me. I, dear internet, have become a Twilight fan.

I’ll give you a moment to recoil in the horror of it all. (Or, if you too got sucked into the madness, please take this moment to placate me in the comments)

I’ve already explained the shock and confusion surrounding my viewing of the first movie. And I was sort of disappointed with the second movie. But, a friend lent me the books and I had run out of other books to read so I picked them up one day. BAD MOVE!

I was completely sucked into the series. Holy hell! I can’t even tell you if they were good I devoured them so quickly. I just couldn’t get enough. Yet, at the same time, I was desperate to be done with them so I could move on with what I previously thought was my pseudo-adult life (I have since realized I’m still a blubbering 11-year-old).

Now that they are done, there is this immense sense of relief.* I think the only person more relieved than me at having this phase over with is Matt. He puts up with my neuroses like a champ, but I think he was seriously starting to get peeved with this little obsession.

Fortunately, Erin has another book series lined up for me to read. She tells me they are good but if they suck me in and ruin my life like Twilight did, I swear I will cut her.

In this breathing space between my life with Twilight and when I see Erin next to get some new books, I think I’m going to re-read some Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe I’ll start with Slaughter House Five and finish with Breakfast of Champions. I could use some dark humour and Kilgore Trout in my life right about now.

*I’m also sort of really sad they’re over but, shhh, don’t tell Matt.


Hi There!


I'm Claire. I like to write about ridiculous things.

I love chocolate but don't think cheese and cake belong together.

I often wish it was socially acceptable to wear glitter before 10pm.

If you want to chat, email me at clairesuzanne1 at gmail dot com.

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