Brunei?

My reports feed indicates on my map overlay that I've had a visit from someone in Brunei...

Really?? Is it the Sultan looking for a new girlfriend to spend lavishly on, cause if so, call me ;)

Question of the Day

So yesterday, I'm driving along listening to 99.3, the Fox, and one of my lesser favourite DJs does this thing called question of the day. Well, his question yesterday was "what was the best concert experience you had in the 1990's?" and I actually had the urge to call in, which is something I never consider.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly the 90's....it was Summersault 2000 at Commonwealth Stadium in Edmonton. A day long musicfest where I would meet an ex's future wife, meet a future best friend (we'd meet again, sober, in 2005), have a shoe thrown at me (seriously? Who goes home without one shoe??), and wait an hour after it was over so a roommate could pick up a chick.

The Foo Fighters have always been awesome, but on this particular day, I had the best concert experience ever. So, the Foos are onstage for about 15 minutes, rocking the shit out of the crowd. There's a massive mosh pit, and I'm...somewhere near the back with Rod. Well, out of the corner of my eye, I see the security guards sramble over to stage right, and I'm thinking 'uh oh, wtf?' Well, Dave Grohl noticed too, and he stopped the band. Now, not everyone in the pit was aware of what's going on, so Dave explained that someone was knocked out in the mosh pit up by the stage, and that we needed to just step back and let the security guards and first aiders clear him out. But knowing that we were still there to see a show, Dave did the classiest thing I've ever seen from a musician on stage: he took the band's song 'Big Me' which is already down tempo, and softened it a little more, to chill the crowd out a bit, and let the staff do their thing. Once the guy was cleared, and the song was over, Dave started rocking out again, climbing stage scaffolding, taking over the drums and being a totally awesome rockstar.

The guy handled it in the best possible way...keep the show going, but take it down a notch for a safer, and therefore more fun experience for those of us of the non-concussed pursuasion. I heard after the show, Dave went to check on the guy too. Awesome band, awesome ethics...best concert experience ever.

Field Study: the Tattooing Nanny State

So yesterday...

In the midst of chaotic school shopping and errands, Miss M. and I drove in to the downtown core so I could make appointments at Sacred Heart on Davie for nose piercing and the last tattoo. We pulled into a pay parking lot, and I didn't bother to pay, as I rationalized that I was only going to be in the shop for about 2 minutes maximum. We walked in, and a pleasant gothically-coloured and tattooed lady with a welcoming smile greeted us and asked what we were looking for. I said I wanted a nostril piercing, and a tattoo behind my right ear. She smiled sympathically and explained that they don't do nostril piercing at that location (the other two do), and that they won't do my tattoo behind my ear they don't do tattoos on "Public Skin"

Are you fucking serious?? "Really? Why?"

And some of what came next was both surprising and revealing. She explained that the big boss frowns on his staff doing tattoos on hand, wrists, necks...in other words, places where they can be seen plainly, because having them there makes it harder to get jobs and mortgages. She explained that she had a friend with a little tiny heart on her hand, and she can't get jobs despite being a University graduate. She explained that another friend couldn't get a mortgage because he had a pink breast cancer ribbon tattoos on the front of his neck to honour his mother. I have heard similar stories like this before, when I went to a place in Edmonton, and the guy refused to do the one on the back of my neck because I was, and I quote, "too cleancut, and nice-looking" and it would ruin my appearance so I can't get jobs and stuff.

It didn't occur to me the first time it happened, but this time around, a little older, wiser and more educated, it hit me like a ton of bricks...tattoo artists can be downright conservative and judgmental. Here I am, asking for a service that they provide, willing to pay, having obviously given this a lot of thought (evident by the way I was describing it to her), and I was being given the politely verbal equivalent of a tsk tsk, a pat on the head, and being told that I don't want what I want, as if I were a flatchested 12 year old asking for a training bra. That's twice now I've encountered tattoo situations where I was being nannied. I wasn't being given my rights over my own body to do with it what I will...I wasn't even being given the choice; I was outright being denied my requests because others made the decision about what's in my own best interest.

Let's tackle this job problem for a moment. I got the second tattoo on the back of my neck last month, before I started a temp job at a Crown Corporation (which is semi-governmental). I dressed accordingly, in smart business casual attire. I wore my hair up because it's summer, it's crazy hot, and my hair is crazy long. I was polite, professional, courteous, and good at the job. I worked with people who were in their 40's and 50's. And not once was I looked down on because of my tattoos. In fact, when I left on Thursday, my last day, people were telling me that they wanted me to stay on, and next summer I'd better be available to request to come back (I'm not, unfortunately). They loved me there, because I was competent and good at the job, regardless of some body art and slightly purple hair.

I know this is only one situation, but the point is that there are opportunities out there with people who value the work and skills, and the ones that are going to get freaky about a few small, tasteful body markings are not likely to be cool people to deal with anyways, and I would probably conflict with them in other more fundamental ways that would be counterproductive.

The nice sacred heart lady added the surprising part that made the anthropology student in me click into place...tattoo artists who *don't* do public skin look down on those who do. This comment was like gold to someone studying the culture of tattoo artists, because it revealed what seems to be a near-universal fact: in any career field, I would assume that a hierarchy existed in terms of good work and bad work, skilled vs. just getting by, etc. I know there's snobbery too, but I never would have expected to have it openly verbalized to me, a customer (thus an outsider). It made me wonder if I too was being looked down on for my choice by these people who had never met me, and who felt it their duty to protect me from myself.

5. Weeks. Left.

In case you weren't counting, in 5 weeks and 8 hours, the music will start, and I will walk down the stairs, across the lawn, and down the aisle, where Rod and I will marry.

Many a person has asked me how things are going, are we ready, is everything taken care of, and those sorts of questions that, while well intentioned, cause me to spiral into a shame spin so deep I want to beat my head against the nearest door, wall, desk, etc. I had a bad week last week, where the convergence of school preparations, wedding preparations, work and money all met to put me in a sleeper hold, which ironically, left me sleepless. For two days, I was a "zombie," stumbling and/or sleepwalking my way through the day, after sleeping so fitfully. I was a mess. I couldn't think straight, and I had so much to do that I forgot what I had to do.

Things have calmed down considerably, I'm sleeping much better, and our list of things to do is actually very doable. After we do the DJ and Marriage commissioner meetings, we are actually in really good shape, with just little details to attend to. I figure 2 days of Zombie Bridezilla is exactly what I needed, and now we're back into our regularly scheduled program.

Pride! (In the Name of (Rubber) Love)

That's right folks! August Long weekend means one thing, and that's Glorious Gays Gallavanting Giddily Down Denman!

You might be asking yourselves, "will there be photos of this spectacular spectacle?" Sadly, no. When I'm enjoying the parade, I don't want to spoil it by trying to get silly pictures! I want to relish the full feast uninterrupted. But this year, as opposed to years past, our haul of swag was supremo! I knew it was going to be a GLORIOUS PARADE day because...

Okay, the parade starts with hoards of police on bikes, showing off and stunting...ironically, doing the kind of shit that gets the rest of us ticketed. They are like the foreplay. Then the official contingent of GLTBQ's takes over, with the Dykes on Bikes proudly leading the way. Then, by way of a nod to the whole 'indigenous peoples were here first' the Native parade entrants lead off (as they do in most ceremonial situations). And the swag began with a sealed envelope containing...

CANDY AND CONDOMS!! Sweet and SWEET!!

It was all awesomely downhill from there. I got beads, condoms, candies, coupons, flyers, a mini-mini-beachball, and a sunburn-later-cum-tan! If I had a spank bank, it would be so full

/devilish grin

How did you start your August Long Weekend?

The official party line around the house is that we spent the night hanging out at Chapters. To maintain my street cred, that's all I'm going to say. But here in bloggerland, no one care how cool I am, so I will risk ridicule and explain that I was doing my baby girl a prop.

For those of you "not Cool enough" to be in the know, last night at 12:01 am, the last book of the "Twilight" series was released. This is a wildly popular series of books about uber-cool teen vampires and werewolves, and all the teens are hooked, our darling Miss M. included. She's been dancing about our apartment for a month now, keeping a faithful countdown on our whiteboard, and frantically pacing from the computer to her bed and back in anticipation of this last book. So it was a foregone conclusion that she would spend her night at Chapters, at the masquarade book party.

We hit a big snag early on when it turns out two store staffers misdirected us in our pre-ordering. It turns out the book was being shipped to our house, even though we asked TWO staffers, and said we wanted it shipped to the store for pick up at 12:01. Morgan was to go to the party and hang out, and Rod and I were to bugger off and come back at midnight to pick her up. Well, after discovering the SNAFU and the clerk telling us it was so odd, we went to stand in the Purchasing line, which was already manned girled by about 25 girls and 1 guy. For a minute, it looked like Miss M. wasn't going to get her book, and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, until we found out about the Purchasing line (hey, how do I know this stuff? I don't have kids who've been to these parties before, and Miss M.'s preorders have always been in Yellowknife, handled by her mum). Okay, so, we're in line, and now out of nowhere, the clerk tracked us down and gave us a $10 gift card for all the inconvenience. So Chapters is in our good books again (pun entirely intended).

Because of the SNAFU, we couldn't just leave Miss M. alone in a line all night, not because of the social aspect of her being there alone, but because we weren't prepared for this (in the pre-order line, you're already guaranteed your book, so being first is just a bonus. No need to wait in line all night). The Purchasing line is first come, first serve, so she wouldn't be able to go to the bathroom or get food or whatever.

You see where this is going?

The things we do for the kids we love. We spent all night in the Chapters, at times standing in for her, so she could do whatever. We went to get McD's for her, bathroom breaks, etc. She settled in with a group of girls who rivalled her love of the series, and she had a great time! At midnight, she was in the third group to purchase her book, and she came home blissfully happy.

What did we do? We found various corners to hide in (easy when most of the teens are swarming around two lines, leaving the rest of the store for us adults), we sat, chatted, read books, and just watched the girlchaos unfold. Just before midnight, at the 15 minute countdown, the entire store erupted into screams worthy of an Avril Lavigne concert (I know from experience), and Rod told me he had the overwhelming urge to jump up and spastically run over the line where Morgan was, shouting "Omigod! Omigod" over and over. This is how we amused ourselves...making mirth about the situation we were unexpectedly put in. For my part, I told Rod, with 2 minutes to go, that I wished I could get a copy and just throw it into the Purchasing line like a grenade...the ensuing chaos would have been devilishly delicious.