The confused shall inherit the Earth

 
I heard it on the grapevine (or read it on her blog), that fellow blooger Karisa is just as confused as I am about life and such. So, I figured this picture would be a clear representative of both of us. 

Like a boat out of water

This is me, blissfully unemployed and worry-free.

OK...that's a lie.

While I am trying to enjoy my vacation away from work, I can feel tiny worries creeping up on me. Such as, I have no money. I have no money to eat, no money for gas, and worst of all, no money for SHOPPING!!! And it's not even like I have a credit card to fall back on cuz that's maxed out. And the loan I applied for was turned down (somehow the bank thought that it wasn't a good idea to lend me a pittance of 3000, cuz, you know, I do have a house and a car but apparently they just want to know if you pay your bills on time...ahhh, screw that.)

Yesterday I went to Granville Island via the ferries (for the 2nd day in a row) to watch my dad's boat being lowered into the water. It was dry-docked so that the propellers, keel and and other bits would be in fine working form for its trip down to Mexico.

Which my dad might not take now. He's having second thoughts about the whole thing, ten days before he is set to set sail. I guess, like me, he too is feeling a bit like a fish out of water. He's got the experience to do it, but in his retired years, I think real fear is setting in. We should know shortly if he is going to go or not.

I think he should go. Not only because I think he might live to regret it (even if he does reschedule the trip for next year), but because I really wanted to go to Mexico for Xmas. Sailing around the azure waters of the Sea of Cortez...that's a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Luckily, life abounds with quite a few once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

What, me worry?

Remember Mad Magazine? I used to have a giant collection of them, back in the ol' days. Well, technically they were my brother's, but somehow they made their way into my room...and into my heart.

Right. Well, this is Alfred E. Neuman, the "heart" of Mad Magazine, if you will (if someone at Mad actually does have a heart...didn't you see that episode of the Simpsons? What...mad...people they were). I'm not sure who Alfred E. Neuman is, or why he has such a stupid look on his face. But he's fond of putting on that half-assed smirk and saying: "What, me worry?"

That's kind of how I feel right now. A stupid look on my face and really without a care in the world. Cuz for some reason, I'm not worried that I'm officially unemployed. Oh wait, well I guess since I haven't "officially" quit yet, I'm still employed...but my heart tells me otherwise. And I'll soon have a ZERO$ paycheck to reinforce it.

But again, "What, me worry?"

Hmmmm. I wonder if Mad Magazine is hiring.






PS it took me forever to find a picture in which I looked "mad"...and this doesn't even do myself justice. That can't be right.

There goes the neighbourhood

 
It's official. The couple above, Leanne and John, are moving down the street from me next week. And with Sarah and Scotts possible move to the Big Ol' City, it looks like every weekend is gonna be a J-School Reunion.
I say bring it on. I didn't get enough drinking done back in the ol' schooldays.

Looking back

As Summer slowly comes to a close, I can't help but look back to where it all started. I guess for me, Summer officially began at the end of April when I flew to Spain to partake in a two-week Spanish holiday. 4 days of that was me walking around Madrid, looking confused, then a week of me "teaching" English to Spaniards in the wee village of La Alberca, then another 5 days of wandering around Madrid. Only that last bit involved a footy match, shopping, partying and trapaising the streets of the old city with foreigners.

For those of you who don't know anything about the program, I have to HIGHLY reccomend that you do it. Operated by Pueblo Ingles, the program consists of one week of volunteer work. You teach (more like drink and party) with business-minded Spaniards for 8 hours a day, helping them learn better English (and watch your own English go down the drain while you are at it). In exchange for your hard-earned hangover, you get a week of room and board. That's a pristine hotel room all to yourself, plus a three-course meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I must add that there is a seemingly unlimited jug of wine with your lunch and dinner (thank God for the Siesta afterwards), plus tons of free activities and cultural excursions.

Elena and I, sitting around and doing nothing at La Alberca
This was one of the best experiences of my life, and one of the best ways to start the Summer of 2006. The best part is that the experiences still live on. Elena (pictured above) is coming for a visit in a few weeks, Tomas has already been here and Taryn and Jaime are returning home to BC after they spent the Summer storming Europe.

If anyone is interested, visit their website. They also have places in Tuscany and Umbria in Italy, which I heard is bella.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

As summer winds down and seasons change into fall, I can't help but notice all the other changes that are going on. Ross shaved his head (and I actually think it's sexy), I'm job-hunting on the down-low (just to see if there are better opportunities out there...perhaps ones that would pay off my mortgage quicker)and my dad is leaving in 3 weeks to sail his boat down to Mexico (lucky bastard, gonna be cruising around the Sea of Cortez until April).

We had dinner last night at the yacht club which is always nice and my parents force-fed me wine. We talked about going sailing in the upcoming weeks, until I realized there weren't many upcoming weeks of summer left. And that the days are getting darker. Then I got that David Bowie song stuck in my head.

My embarassing parents

Well, atleast there are a few things to look forward to in the fall. Autumn is probably my favourite season (so as long as I ignore the fact that its turning into winter), it's a great excuse to get a new wardrobe, Halloween is coming, I've got a lot of tour-guiding to do (friends from Spain, Ross's family) AND I get to go to both The Who and the Rolling Stone concerts. I can't get no satisfaction. And now that song is stuck in my head.

Wet trunks and schoolbooks and sand on my toes

 
I thought the above line from jack johnson was quite appropriate...only cuz I've got sand all over my apartment and I've got wet underwear on.
NO you pervert its wet cuz i just went swimming in the ocean. Sicko.
Yes, so I was supposed to go to a BBQ tonight, but by the time the boys showed up, it was running close to sundown and Spanish Banks was quite aways away. So, we decided to hang close, cook Veggie dogs (which, I'm surprised, were good) and drink like fish. Sooner or later we made our way down to the Soho bar and grill where I proceeded to get riled up over the rugby (WOOOOO ALL BLACKS!!! They were playing against those bloody Wallabies and doing well until those Aussies started with their tries...I like how the waitress let us in free of cover cuz she took one look at me and thought, well she doesnt care about Rugby. Oh ho ho ho ho...she was wrong. And is it just me, or did the Haka get wimpier? Must get back to NZ to set them straight).

Anyhoo, after drinking more than enough we made our way onto the beach, then back to my house where we all changed. Well, I changed into my bikini and they just drank more. So, seizing the moment, we walked back to the beach. I stripped down to my suit. And they stripped down to their...well, lets just say they have an uncomfortable ride back home.

And so we went swimming! Ok, so False Creek was polluted, but in the silence of the night, with the stars and meteor showers above and the neon, glowing phospheresence in the water, it was pretty much magical. Until Austen tackled me and put my face into a bed full of gravel. Yet, because it was 1AM and I was wasted, I didn't care. Am still wasted now, and being catapulted 10 feet in the air from someones shoulders doesnt phase me.Probably will tomorrow.

The thing is, ever since I've moved in here, I've wanted to go swimming and no one has ever thought of indulging me in this wish until now. Of course, there is something to be said about swimming in the frigid wonders of English Bay in the sweltering daytime, but in the darkness and solitude of the night, there is more to be said. WOOO HOOO.
Meh. I'm drunk. I'm going to bed. Thank God I can sleep all day tomorrow. And maybe then I can fish this Oyster Disease out of my ears.

Channeling my inner Jessica

 
As I wait for the boys to arrive, I decided to fiddle with my hair. All I have to say is that I'm amazed at what hairspray can do...and the bigger I make my hair, the more I start to feel a bit like my good ol' pal Jessica S. Of course, I bet Jessica S. wouldn't be caught dead wearing a wife beater to the beach while getting crunk on a box of wine. Maybe I can become the white trash version!






We're baaaaaaack

I walk alone

 

Is there such thing as the "Freshman 15" that applies to recent grads? Doesn't the Freshman 15 happen because it's the first year of uni and therefore is a huge transistional life phase? Can the same be said about people who enter their first year of the workforce?

The reason I ask is because I have put on this so called "Freshman 15" (Entry-Level 15?). Ok, it's not so much as 15 pounds, but I have put on 5 and I've always been atleast 5 pounds overweight anyway. So close enough. And of course, like usual, I've waited until summer is almost over to do something about it. Procrastinators of the World unite...tomorrow!

And though I'm trying to eat well each day, I've been ignoring the "painful" part of weight-loss, which, of course, is excercise. But today during work, I was plagued by signs that kept reminding me that I really do need to start breaking a sweat. First of all, I had an interview with Michael Thurmond. He runs the super successful Six Week Body Makeover and is the main workout dude on Extreme Makeover. Just talking to him on the phone made me feel guilty and fat. Second, I had to sign up Cardio Core Bootcamp as one of our sponsors...and since the branch I signed up was in West Vancouver, I thought it was a little too close for comfort. Give them 5 days a week for a month and you'll be smoking in no time. I'm seriously thinking of signing up with them cuz Michael Thurmond's Spa is $5,500 a week. And then the third sign was the fact that I have ANOTHER oncamera interview on Friday. OH...MY....GOD.

So, instead of getting home and passing out like I usually do, I decided to put on my runners and head out the door. I walked fast enough to break a sweat, then headed down to the seawall. With the sun setting over English Bay and the fresh scent of sea air, I thought to myself "Why the hell don't I do this more often?"

Then I noticed something. I was the only solo person out there. Sure, there were tons of people walking, biking, rollerblading, kayaking...but there were very few people on their own. In fact, most people were coupled up. As in relationships. As in, hand in each other's pockets, head on shoulders, smiling and laughing, tickling, sharing stupid stories and acting all lovey dovey in general.

BLECK.

It made me sick. There is nothing worse than being all alone and being surrounded by all these disgustingly happy couples "excercising" together. I mean, do people just head down to the seawall to be seen as a nausea-inducing pair, or is it all one big, fat coincidence? Because I'm getting the impression that at every sunset, these love zombies go on parade. So, of course, now everytime I go for a walk/jog, I have to prepare for the enslaught of super-smugs flaunting their coupledom.

*Sigh* As if excercise isn't hard enough already.

Last Cat, er, Dog Days of Summer

The cat's in the bag




Hard to believe that summer is almost over, isn't it? This has been my first summer working full-time, and let me tell you: It sucks. Instead of soaking up the rays and using these dog days to my full-advantage, I am cooped up inside, left to stare at the ball-scratching teamsters who frequent outside my window. At least they get to be in the sun.

Regardless, September is fast approaching and I am feeling my annual end-of-summer panic attack. QUICKLY! I must use the rest of my days with as much summer fun I can muster.

Such was the plan for this weekend. But I spent most of it indoors, sleeping. Of course, Ross is crippled so it's not like we could go trapaising through a field or anything...and it woudn't exactly be fair that I go frolicking among the briar patches while he lies on his bed, moaning in pain (OK, that's a slight exageration...there are no briar patches around).

However, we did get to do one easy summer activity which is going out to eat/drink on a patio somewhere. And what made it all the more enjoyable was that we had a Journalism School reunion. It was nice to catch up while catching up on the summer sun I have so sorely missed.
The J-schoolers fine dining at Scruffys in New West


Ross plots the iminent death of all around him, as he plans to let loose "Clockwork Orange style"

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille

Me in the make-up chair...now, where is my cappucino and Evian???

Last Friday I did my first official on-camera interview. I was a wee bit nervous (well, more than a wee bit, considering I get nervous over the most mundane things), especially after seeing the test shots the day before. I was lacking sleep (as usual) had frizzy hair (afro-ish) and had about 50 gallons of water retention in my face. After seeing the test shots, I couldn't help but freak the hell out. Does my face REALLY look like that? It was kinda orange (apparently it wasn't white-balanced, whatever the hell that means), kinda haggard and kinda ten times its usual size. I ran to the computer, threw all notions of work aside, and searched the net for someone to tell me that the camera doesn't really add ten pounds and that it was all in my head. But alas, all I found were bloggers like me, freaking out that the camera adds ten pounds.

So what did I do? I took an hour long lunch break and headed to Save-On-Foods where I stacked up with a heap of herbal remedies. Low-cal soups (Miso soup, which apparently is full of live bacteria, just like yogurt), Dandelion Tea (gets rid of water retention, tastes like dirt) and Green Tea horse pills (eat something before you take one or you will puke). Armed with my new potions, I ran back to work and got started on losing weight in 24 hours.

Here is something I learned. You can't lose weight in 24 hours. One of those bullshit facts of life, apparently. But you can make yourself look better by getting enough sleep, doing your hair right and having the right posture.
Oh, and having a make-up artist. I think she may have prevented the camera lens from cracking.

Above is Kirk Shaw, the CEO of Insight Films Studios, Canada's 7th largest production company. Kirk is a bigwig in town and makes an obscene amount of films and TV movies each year. But despite all his success, this was his first on-camera interview. And since it happened to be mine as well, I kinda felt more at ease. He was just as nervous as I was.

In the end, the whole interview went great and I actually enjoyed myself. Especially as the camera wasn't on me the whole interview, all I had to do was ask questions and watch him sweat under the lights. Of course, I had my turn on camera before the actual interview in which I talked to the wall and laughed at imaginary comments. Ahh, the magic of TV (well, Podcasting).

Hopefully the magic will be strong enough so that it all looks good. Then I might link it to the blog. But if it looks like crap, forget it. Save that for the blooper real.

What the hell happened here?

WARNING: POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGES

For our six month anniversary, Ross and I decided to trek up to Whistler for a night. Not only had Ross never been there before, but with his travel agency connections, he was able to score a SWEET suite at the Westin Resort for $75 (normally the room is $239).
We didn't do anything too interesting, just bar-hopped around Village Square, went clubbing at Maxx Fish, etc. But the copious amounts of alcohol we consumed ensured we didn't feel too hot the next morning, despite inhaling the portable oxygen in our hotel room. But overall, it was a fantastic weekend.
Oh. I forgot. This also happened:

Ross did something stupid and f'ed up his ankle.
It was swollen and slightly bruised at first...then slowly turned a mean red color. Ross couldn't walk on it much without some pain. Then it got even worse...

We started to think it was gangrene and perhaps his foot would fall off. It was getting nastier and puffier by the day. So, we took a day off work and limped down to the medical clinic.

The doctor scolded Ross for f'ing it up and then sent us on our merry little way to get X-rays done. Of course, after waiting for hours at the clinic, by the time we got to the X-ray lab, the X-ray doctor who would tell us whether or not his ankle was broken, had just gone home. Probably to play golf. So, as of now, we have no clue if its just bruised, sprained, fractured or just plain fucked.

This morning however, it turned a queasy shade of yellow and Ross couldn't walk on it at all. That can't be good.

Now, I know what you are all wondering: what the hell happened to his ankle?

How about I let you be the judge? Did Ross:

A) Get drunk and decide it was a good time for mountain biking (thank God for the helmet)

B)Get drunk and get his foot crushed in the gondola door




>











C) Get drunk and get attacked by a bear while getting drunk (and attempting to save me in the process)

D)Get drunk and decide to scale the Westin's waterfall and jump off of it

OR, is it E): All of the above?

And the perks keep rolling in...

Being in constant contact with publicists and promotional machines in Hollywood does have it's advantages. The following email just landed in my inbox:

Please send this invite to your client's Paris Hilton and Joaquin Phoenix.

They are personally being invited by JC

RSVP directly to me.


Thank you.

Rembrandt

rembrandt flores
f u s i o n pr
8285 sunset blvd. suite 2
west hollywood, ca 90046
p>323.822.2000 x101
f>323.822.9333

Right, so after I pass this information onto my "clients" (I'm sure Paris would LOVE to go, though Joaquin might be harder to convince), only one question remains....

Who wants to go with me?

One celebrity down, a zillion to go

Yesterday I had my first celebrity interview. Now, I suppose that Gregory Smith of Everwood fame could be considered a celebrity, only I never heard of him before I interviewed him (and that counts for a lot) and I have a feeling he is only well known in teeny bopper circles where girls will plaster his face from the pages of Teen Beat on their walls.

No, my first celebrity interview was with the charming Anna Paquin. This was particularly cool for me, since I've been a big fan of hers. In fact, the first Academy Awards I ever paid attention to was the one in which she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for The Piano, at the wee age of nine. I remember she just got up on the podium and didn't say a word for a whole minute.

Then, moving to New Zealand myself, I found out what a darling she is to the entire country. At the same time, she's a true Canadian, having been born in Winnipeg and still doing Telecom commercials for the province of Mantitoba.

Last but not least, she's been in a few of my FAVOURITE films including Almost Famous, and all the X-Mens (well, except the third one, which I will get into in a minute). So suffice to say, I'm a big fan.

She was 15 minutes late for our phone interview, for which she apologized profusely. I told her I didn't care, I was just grateful to be talking to her.
We spent over 25 minutes on the phone, discussing such topics as Shooting in Manitoba (she loved it), Whether she feels more Canuck, Kiwi or Yankee (she considers herself a New Yorker), Why she's not tabloid material (she doesn't make a point of going out to be seen), and what her greatest achievement has been (getting established in the NYC theatre scene). Of course, I asked her a ton of Indie-focused questions, of which I will write about in my up-coming article.

But the most interesting question I asked was one I felt most passionately about "Why didn't Rogue fly in X-men 3?"
She, of course, wasn't in charge of the script of story (which is too bad, I'm sure if she had been she wouldn't have written such crap and would have been in the movie for more than 3 scenes). But yes, she thought it would have been really cool if she had gotten to fly, had been in the film more, had gotten more action, etc. After bringing up that, hey there is always next time, she added: "Well, it was called The Last Stand for a reason."
Ahhh, but in Hollywood, never say never. And that pseudo ending at the end of the credits, makes me think otherwise...I mean, come on, that film, as crap as it is, made 122M its opening weekend.

Before I let Anna go, I mentioned the fact I sat on the row behind her while watching Jerry Seinfeld at the Orpheum Theatre a few years back. She didn't remember me, obviously, but remembered that the show was one of the funniest that she'd ever seen. That made me like her even more, considering Seinfeld spent a good bit of time skewering actors and their profession.
"Thankfully," she added, "the cast (of X-men) had a good sense of humour."
I was grateful Anna did, cuz you would need one to put up with my inane questions.

It's bout time Microsoft was representin'