Not To Be Trusted With Knives

{November 29, 2006}   I’m DEVASTATED!


Taylor Pyatt is… *sob*…. he’s…. *sob*…. he’s not single!!

I heard about this over at the Pink Seats. Which I am never reading again, btw.

I’ll just have to console myself with the new boy in town, Jesse Schultz. Jesse was called up from the Manitoba Moose to play in the big league. Jesse also happens to be 24, which is, coincidentally, my favourite age.

Isn’t he just adorable?

Jesse, if you are reading this, I know you are new in town, so why don’t you let me be your Vancouver tour guide? Call me!

And, of course, there is also still Marc Chouinard.


{November 28, 2006}   Happy Birthday, Jon Stewart

Happy Birthday, Jon Stewart!

If you weren’t married, I would totally have your babies.

{November 27, 2006}   Snow Day

Snow? In Vancouver? WTF?

It started on Saturday night and it’s still falling. 80,000 people are without power. My roommate was stuck on the I-5 for 7 hours on her way back from running the Seattle half marathon yesterday due to a 16 car pile-up. And since Vancouver has a grand total of 1 snow plow*, this means the city is pretty much closed. This was the conversation my roommate and I had earlier:

Her: I was supposed to have a presentation in one class, a really important lecture in another, a paper due and a meeting tonight, but classes are cancelled.

Me: Sweet. We should build a snowman.

Her: Yeah. I should get some work done too.

Me: Yeah, me too. I have to do the revisions on my paper. Oooh, I want to build a snow rat!

Her: Yes, you would.

Me: We don’t get snow that often. It’s the responsible thing to do.

Her: Yes. We must utilize our available resources.

We decided to walk to the store, first as we had almost nothing to eat at our house. And, being the photo-crazed individuals that we are, we took some photos of the winter wonderland.

But when we got to the store, it turned out that it was:

So we went home and, despite being hungry because we still had no food, we made our Snow Rat. Isn’t he cute?

*I don’t think this is actually true. But it’s the rumor, so I’m going to propogate it anyway.

{November 23, 2006}   Edumucation and Gradumuation

So I graduated yesterday*! I got to wear the ridiculous puffy hat and hideous pink robe that distinguishes those crazy enough to do a Ph.D. at UBC. And I would LOVE to post some photos of me in said robe and hat, but I’m on my sister’s Mac laptop at the Fairmont Waterfront hotel* and Macs make no sense to me, so I cannot for the life of me figure out how to shrink my photos to a reasonable size in order to upload them on Blogger. So you’ll have to wait until I get home for the photographic evidence. But trust me – pink, hideous.

I’d also like to point out that lining up a bunch of graduates to proceed onto a stage to be granted their degrees was much like trying to line up a bunch of kindergarteners to go into school after recess. There was much “can you re-fold my hood, maam? I dropped it again!” and “we weren’t supposed to bring our coats? wear do I put my coat?” and “What did he say? Where are we supposed to walk? What’s going on??” There was a set of fairly simple instructions… like, (1) go on the stage and hand your name card to the Dean, (2) stand on the X and face the photographer, (3) walk over to the Chancellcor and shake hands when you hear your name announced, (4) take off your hat so the President can put the hood over your head. And there were people looking in the exact opposite direction from the photographer; walking right past the Chancellor (the Chancellor being the dude who actually grants you the degree… you know, the only reason that you are even in the auditorium wearing such a stupid robe in the first place!) or standing next to the President, looking out into the audience like an idiot and wondering why the President isn’t putting the hood over their head…. because they hadn’t taken their hat off!!)

Wait a sec! Just as I was typing this, Blogger finally saw fit to upload my photos! Sweet! Now you will get treated to my photography goodness! Lucky you!!

Other highlights of the day included: our graduation “procession” from the Graduate Student Centre (wear we were robed and lined up) to the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts (where the actual ceremony was held) included a trip through the parkade. Yes, the parkade. Because we didn’t feel ridiculous enough in our “academic regalia” (read: clown suits), we needed to juxtapose these outfits with concrete and exhaust fumes. Also, my hat was too big for my head. Even though they gave me the extra small hat. So most of my photos make me look like a total mushroom head. You know you are jealous.

OK, perhaps I should actually show you this robe at which I scoff. Here is one of the few decent pics of me in my wicked cool regalia, with my mommy:

I would like to point out that I have some smoking hot shoes.

The next picture is to prove that I did, in fact, get my Ph.Dizzle:

And finally, a pose that I have been waiting to do for the past 4 years, even since I saw a photo of a UBC grad who posed this way on their graduation day:

Dr. Beth… she robs from the rich and gives to the poor.

OK, I’d like to tell you more about my action-packed grad day, but I’m super tired and my mom and sister, who refuse to even set their watches from Toronto time to Vancouver time will undoubtedly wake me up at the crack of dawn, so I best get to bed. I’ll tell ya more stories once the fam has gone home. And when I can get the photos from my roommate’s camera… ‘cuz she took to best photos of the day anyway!


*You may be wondering why this is the first you have heard about my graduation ceremony, being that this is ostensibly a blog about me writing my thesis. Well, as you may or may not recall, I am a highly superstitious person. I have a fear that if I tell people about something that is supposed to happen, there will be some screw up and it won’t happen, because I’ve jinxed myself (e.g., my defence that got postponed and my job that evaporated). As you can imagine, this makes planning things somewhat problematic for me. But given that so many things have gone wrong for me in this past year, I had this terrible feeling that I’d show up at graduation and they’d say, “Oh, didn’t you get our email? You forgot to fill out the TPS form in triplicate, so you don’t qualify to graduation.” So I avoided mentioning my upcoming grad on here until it was over. And I have my degree. I’m pretty sure they can’t take away now (can they?).

**my mom and sister came to Vancouver for my grad and we staying at the swanky Fairmont Waterfront.

{November 20, 2006}   Snippets

For some reason, I heard a number of interesting lines that really stuck in my head this past weekend. I would have got this up earlier, but I was actually doing work yesterday. Work! Here are some snippets of conversation, and their context:

Yelled from a block away: “Stop dancing on that pole… Sophie!!

Picture it. You are walking down Commercial Drive after having watched a play (Life After God) at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre, discussing how Douglas Coupland is a self-referential asshole. You see, about a block away, a women with two male companions stumble up the street and start pole dancing on a street sign. You turn to your companion and say, “Is that woman pole dancing?” And your companion yells, “Get off that pole!! Stop dancing on that pole… Sophie!” Yes, my friends know some interesting characters*!

It’s OK to bathe or shower in the water, as long as you don’t swallow any of it.

This statement was actually made by a news anchor, during a story about the Vancouver water advisory**. I freaking love that they have to people not to drink their bath water!!

Those cheerleaders are wearing parkas!” “I have a good idea – let’s have an outdoor event in Winnipeg… in November!

Grey Cup***. In Winnipeg. In November. What genius thought of that one?

I’m going to go ingest some shigella.

A statement like this could come from an agricultural sciences student who decides he needs some hydration before our ball hockey game and so heads for the water fountain, despite the fact that the city is under a boil water advisory. To date, I believe the friend of mine who made this declaration is shigella-free.


This was screamed by me so that my roommate would come and rescue me (which she did). Sometimes I hate living in a basement.

I’m just wondering how long sex lasts… you have A LOT of songs in this Sex playlist!

OK, this one requires a bit of backstory. I’m at a birthday party on Saturday night and the birthday boy’s iPod runs out of power. Another person at the party starts making a playlist on their iPod and I offer my iPod in the meantime, with the caveat of “Don’t make fun of my music. I have eclectic musical tastes!” As the one who has appointed themself in charge of the music at the time starts flipping through my music, he discovers that I have three playlists entitled “Sex”, “Drugs” and “Rock & Roll.”**** He starts playing the “Drugs” music, but a little later on he makes the aforementioned statement of “I’m just wondering how long sex lasts… you have A LOT of songs in this Sex playlist!” The point of the playlist was supposed to be that it was songs *about* sex, not necessarily songs that you have sex to. But now that he mentioned it…

*And, for the record, the two male companions were a gay couple that Sophie was *teaching* to pole dance!

**Day 6 and counting! I BC Lions!

***Props to the Grey Cup Champion BC Lions! w00t! w00t!

****”Sex” includes songs that have something to do with sex (think “Crazy Bitch” by Buck Cherry or NIN’s “Closer.”); “Drugs” includes songs about, well, drugs (think “Heroin” by the Velvet Underground, “Cocaine Blues” by Johnny Cash, or “My Alcoholic Friends” by the Dresden Dolls) and “Rock & Roll” includes songs about music (think “Jailhouse Rock” by Elvis)… I thought it was witty.

{November 17, 2006}   200

This is my 200th blog posting And in honour of this momentous occasion, I’m writing a 200 word blog entry. And each word is hyperlinked. The kicker is that each word may or may not be linked to something that is even remotely related to the word in question. Yes, I have too much time on my hands. And so do you if you are reading this.

My very first post was on 8 July 2005. Meaning that it took me four hundred and ninty-eight days to get to the 200th post. I think that my favourite title of any of my blog postings wasYet Another Reason That the PM is a Dickhead.” AlthoughExploding TrousersandIntimate Contact with Chickensare also good. Necromouse remains the coolest photo on the blog (although me riding the mechanical bull seems to get rave reviews for some reason) and I will always have a special place in my heart for the PhDizzle posting. I still can’t decide if I should rename my blog to something cooler thanThesis Writing Was Hell.” I’m still rather partial to The Total Perspective Vortex, but I’m not sold on it.

Also, Taylor Pyatt.

The End

When we last left our heroine*, she was stuck in the world of detox diet, eating apples and rice cakes and totally jonesing for a diet Pepsi. Before I started the detox, I thought that the whole idea was bunk. After having tried it, I’m thinking it’s bunk. On the plus side, it kept me off the sauce for 12 whole days. Also on the plus side, we made some wicked delicious foods.

Now, my roommate and I are totally foodies. We once spent an entire evening at her friend Sheila’s place talking about nutrition and trading recipes. We once made her little brother walk around a grocery store while we read nutrition labels on all the food packages… for fun**. So we spent our 12 days of detox coming up with new and exciting dishes. I felt like I spent the better part of the week chopping vegetables, as seen here:

But check out how good these foods look!

Green beans, carrots and almonds. Seven-layer veggie casserole. You know you are jealous.

And even crepes made with spelt! And roasted apples, pears & berries!

By the end of the 12 days, I was pretty much just sticking to the program out of sheer stubbornness***. But I did it – 12 days with no black tea, no alcohol, no added sugar or salt, no bread products, no mushrooms, no tropical fruit and no sweet sweet diet Pepsi. At 12:07 am on Saturday, I ate a dark chocolate Turtle**** to celebrate the end of the detox. Saturday morning meant a trip to Cobs Bread for breakfast. And a Timmy Ho coffee. But the big retoxification began at dinner… as you may recall, the retox plan involved Nevermind, a portobello mushroom burger and a bellini served in a fishbowl. Apparently Nevermind didn’t receive the memo. My hopes were dashed when the cute waiter told me, “the bellini isn’t frozen.” So I had to make due with a Surfer on Acid*****, a Jail Bait******, a Strongbow cider and, of course, the precious precious beer, courtesy of Taylor Pyatt. Unfortunately, he didn’t actually purchase said beer himself. For you see, he was playing hockey at the time. And I was watching said hockey game on the big ass screens they have a Nevermind. In addition to big ass screens, Nevermind also has a “player of the game.” And if said “player of the game” scores a goal, everyone in the bar gets a free beer. And guess who was the “player of the game”? And guess who scored a goal? That’s right, Taylor Pyatt contributed to my retoxification, and he hasn’t even met me. Yet.

You can see me drinking my Taylor Pyatt beer and gazing intently at Taylor Pyatt here:

*not our herion.

**her little brother most definitely disagreed with us on the funness level of this activity.

***I have been known to be somewhat stubborn. In fact, when my PhD supervisor was considering taking me into her lab, she called my MSc supervisor to ask what I was like. Apparently he told her I was stubborn. Fortunately, she considered this to be a good thing and took me in anyway.

****We were watching Into the Blue at Kalev’s house and he generously donated a Turtle to the cause as I had left the Ferrero Rochers that I bought for just this purpose at my house, thinking the movie would be over and I would be home well before midnight. Thanks Kalev!

*****While this link to will tell you that a Surfer on Acid is Jäg, Malibu & pineapple juice, a Surfer on Acid at Nevermind also includes Red Bull. And you know how I feel about Red Bull and Jäg.

******or two. You know how I love jail bait. I can’t seem to find a link to a recipe for Jail Bait anywhere on the internets. I google searched “jail bait drink,” but you can imagine how that turned out. A Jail Bait at Nevermind was Stoli Razberi, peach liqueur and 7up. Good times.

{November 10, 2006}   Driver Wanted
Who wants to drive me to Abbotsford next Saturday?

Public Player Appearances!

The Vancouver Canucks will be sending five players out to the community on Saturday, November 18th to sign autographs!

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Taylor Pyatt
Save On Foods – Abbotsford (300 – 32700 South Fraser Way, Clearbrook)
2:30pm – 3:30pm

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Alex Burrows
Save On Foods – South Point, Surrey/White Rock (3033 – 152nd St, Surrey)
2:30pm – 3:30pm

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Rory Fitzpatrick
Save On Foods – Metrotown/Station Square (6100 McKay Ave, Burnaby)
2:00pm – 3:00pm

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Ryan Kesler
Save On Foods – Nordel Crossing (12130 Nordel Way, Surrey)
2:30pm – 3:30pm

Saturday, November 18, 2006
Willie Mitchell
Shopper’s Drug Mart – Metrotown, Burnaby
2:00pm – 3:00pm

Please note:
All player appearances are open to the first 160 people in attendance. These 160 individuals will each receive a voucher that can be redeemed for one autograph.

{November 8, 2006}   The Saga of the Jersey

On Sunday, I saw a really nice Canuck jersey in the window of the Sally Ann Thrift Store on Broadway. So, being the naive girl that I am, I thought I could go into the store and buy said jersey. But alas, life is not that simple. When I went in on Monday* and inquired about the jersey, the woman at the counter looked at me like I was slightly crazy and said, “The items in the window are on sale on Wednesday. First come, first served.” “OK,” I said, “what time do you open?” “10 am,” she replies. And then she cryptically adds, “And people usually line up early.”

So, today, being Wednesday, I got myself up early** and made the trek down to Broadway, arriving around 9:30. No one is there, so I rejoice: the jersey will be mine! I sit outside the store, eating my rice cakes*** and reading my book until about quarter to, when another couple shows up. We start chatting and ask each other what item in the window we were there to get. To my relief****, they are after a fleece sweater and a jacket, so we figure we will all go home happy.

Then, a monkey wrench arrives in the form of a dark haired woman, who asks us, “Do you have numbers?” We look at her quizzically, “Numbers?” She points to some slips of paper on a table that we hadn’t noticed before… 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. I grab 5 and my new friends grab 6 and 7. Dark Hair informs us that she is 4, but 1 to 3 are nowhere to be found. “What item are you here for?” I ask, hoping she wants something different than the rest of us. “Oh no!” she exclaims, “I’m not getting into THAT again!” More puzzled looks from myself and the couple. “What? Why not?” I ask. “Because if you tell people what you are here for, they will take it just to spite you!” So I’m thinking, “Paranoid much lady?” But I, quite rationally I think, state, “Well, you are ahead of me and there is no point in me wasting my time staying here if you want what I want.” “OK,” she says, “but I’m only telling you because you aren’t ahead of me in line. I want the Canucks jersey!” “Damn!” I think. My new friends give me sympathetic looks, but I know are secretly happy that she didn’t want the fleece or the jacket. I admit defeat: “OK, well, I’m outta here then, because that’s what I wanted too.” Dark Hair then says, “But it might not fit me. You should stick around in case it doesn’t.” Then adds, with a hint of venom in her voice, “That is, if numbers 1 to 3 don’t get to it first.” OK, good point, it might not fit her, and since I’d already waited that long, what’s a few more minutes, right? So we wait, pondering on the whereabouts of numbers 1 to 3. It gets closer to 10 am and more people arrive. We inquire as to their numbers. Some people don’t have numbers and have no idea what we are talking about when we ask them… they stare at us with a look of confusion completely befitting the situation – they just want to go in to check out what’s in the store and this whole Wednesday morning madness is beyond their realm of comprehension. Then a boy with an X-box shows up and says he’s number 3. “Don’t tell anyone what we discussed,” Dark Hair whispers to me, “I only told you because you are behind me in line.” “Don’t worry,” I say, “I won’t tell.” I want to add, “I will take your secret to the grave!! No amount of torture would force the secret from my dying lips!” but I think better of it… she might buy the jersey even if it doesn’t fit her, just to spite me for making fun of her. I start to think the thrift store paranoia is rubbing off on me. More people arrive. Numbers 1 and 2 are now there. “What time did you get here?” we ask. “9:05” Number 1 informs us, adding bitterly, “I was late.”***** People start to crowd around the door, although I don’t understand why, since we all have numbers that determine the order in which we will purchase things, so crowding the door won’t help you get that coveted thrifty item. An older lady arrives and starts chatting. It turns out that Older Lady is like the Yoda of the Thrift Store. “Canucks jersey you desire? Hmmm. I sense much impatience in you, young Jedi. Sith Lords, I fear, seek to spite you, they do.” She informs us that we must never tell anyone in the lineup what we are there for, as people in front of you in the lineup will buy it and then offer to sell it to you for a higher price. Or they will buy it just to spite you. Looking around at the crowd with narrowed eyes, she tells us in a hushed tone, “some of these people are regulars.” We look around too, wondering which person or persons could be the buying-thrift-store-items-for-spite culprit. Or culprits. She tells us the Tale of the Louis Vuitton purses, where the young UBC student lost out on the 2 LV purses she wanted, which turned out to be knock offs, but ended up finding a real LV purse in the store instead, restoring our faith in the venerable principle of “what goes around comes around.” We stand, entranced by her story. OK, maybe not entranced. Maybe entertained by the sheer ridiculousness of this situation.

10 am. The moment of truth. The keepers of the coveted thrift store items open the door and declare, “Number One.” Number One enters the store and they close the door behind her. “They used to just let people in and trust that everyone would be fair about who got there first. But there were too many fights,” Yoda of the Thrift Store tells us, “Now they only let us in one by one.” Next Number Two goes in. Then Number Three. Then it’s Dark Hair’s turn; she rushes in and finds that the jersey is still there! She picks up a Leafs jersey and shows it to me through the window, pointing enthusiastically at the hideous thing, as if to say, “Ha ha! You are stuck with a friggin’ Leafs jersey, sucka!” And I’m thinking, “Can she really be so cruel as to taunt me this way? What did I do to her?” And I say, “I’d rather slit my throat than wear a Leafs jersey!!” to much laugher from the crowd still waiting outside. When they let me in, I head over to the fitting room, where Dark Hair is about to enter. I’m hoping against hope that the jersey won’t fit her. She calls out, “It’s a kids size!” To which I reply, “I fit into kids sizes!” She comes out of the fitting room, with the jersey clearly being way too tight for her and exclaims, “It fits me!” Then she adds, “I’m really sorry.” I know that if I say what I’m actually thinking (“Are you kidding me? You look ridiculous in that jersey!! You’ll need to change your name to Lumpy McLumpyson!!“), I would just sound like I was trying to get her to not buy the jersey so that I could have it. So instead I said, “No need to be sorry. You got here first, so you get the jersey. You win some, you lose some. The jersey looks really nice on you and I hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.******” And then she says, “Well, you can always get the other jersey.” I’m dumbfounded. It hits me that she actually thinks that if you don’t get the Canucks jersey, you would just wear a Leafs one. Is she on crack?? “It’s a Leafs jersey! A Leafs jersey!” I exclaim, the incredulity dripping from my voice. “I’m a Canucks fan! I’d honestly rather slit my throat than wear a Leafs jersey!” And as the realization that she wasn’t truly a Canucks fan, she didn’t understand the ways of hockey like I do, but she was going to get that cool jersey for cheap and I was going to walk away empty-handed, I felt that maybe all wasn’t right with the world. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s just a freakin’ shirt and this whole seedy underworld of thrift store Wednesday morning free-for-alls is not a place I want to become accustomed to!

*since they weren’t open on Sunday when I saw it.
**getting up before 10 am constitutes “early” in my books.
***still detoxing
****because I would feel bad if they had come for the jersey and would be disappointed that I had been there first. Not bad enough to let them have it, but still.
*****I don’t know why she sounded so bitter, she got the first freaking number!
******as she had told me that she wanted the jersey because she was going to the Canucks game tomorrow night.

{November 7, 2006}   What is this world coming to?

It’s election day in the US, the Democrats are poised to retake the House, and this is one of the top news stories on MSNBC.

{November 7, 2006}   Updates and Suchlike

Taylor Pyatt scored the winning goal tonight. Is there anything he can’t do? *sigh*

My good luck in the free movie department appears to be contagious – my roommate won tickets to see a movie (Little Children). I heart Videomatica.

It’s day 8 of the detox diet. I miss diet Pepsi so much. On the plus side, I’ve discovered that almond butter is delish on apples. I may or may not have a plan to celebrate the end of the detox that involves Nevermind, a portobello mushroom burger and a bellini served in a fishbowl. Yes, that’s 32 oz of bellini. And yes Nevermind, where they give free shots to anyone sitting at the bar whenever the Canucks score*.

Also, Shalu is my BFF. She knows why. I heart Shalu.

My mom and sister are coming to visit me in just over two weeks! Yay mom & sister! It is my mom’s 60th birthday in 6 days. I think that means I’m old.

*apparently I’m planning to re-toxify my body, which I spent 12 days detoxing, in the space of about 3 hours.

{November 6, 2006}   Canuck Hotness

Thanks to the fine women at The Pink Seats, I have found a new Canuck hottie whose babies I might like to carry. I have been remiss in noticing the hotness of one Marc Chouinard, the 6’5″ centre.

See what I mean? Hottie! Plus, he’s the only Canuck who has been confirmed as being single (I think Taylor‘s relationship status is listed as “?” because the word on the street is that he’s in love with me).

Taylor and Marc, if you are googling your names and come across my blog, I have one word for you. It starts with a “t” and ends with a “hreesome”. Call me.

{November 4, 2006}   Detox

Since late August, I have won tickets to see sneak previews of three different movies (Crank*, The Queen** and The Last King of Scotland***) and a play (Life After God). Why can’t I have that kind of good luck when it comes to looking for a job??

I think we can all agree that after last weekend, I need to detox. So my roommate and I are doing a detox diet. My roommate is doing the whole herbal thing, whereas I am just following the diet. For the most part, it’s not that different from how we usually eat****, but dammit, I really miss my diet Pepsi. And for some reason, poutine isn’t included on the detox diet. We started our detox on Monday, so on Sunday we decided to eat all kinds of foods that we wouldn’t be allowed to have for the next 12 days… like peanut butter and honey, and candy and chips and cherry vanilla diet Dr. Pepper:

… and friggin’ good cheesecake with mango puree***** from Nyala:

Fortunately, I’m allowed to have up to 2 cups of coffee per day and all the green tea I can drink. And we’ve discovered a wicked good chai green tea, so between that and water with lemon in it, I’m surviving. And I’m addicted to potatoes cooked with garlic and onions. And rice cakes with almond butter, which are quite yummy. And which I have taken to smuggling into the free movies.

I’ll keep you apprised of my detox progress.. and will no doubt be writing next Saturday with a giant glass of diet Pepsi.

*I think the premise behind Crank is the perfect premise for an action movie – the main character has to keep his adrenalin up or he’ll die… a recipe for non-stop action!

**Despite the fact that everyone else I know who has seen it liked it, I thought The Queen was really boring. I mean, the whole movie was “when will the Queen speak publically about Diana’s death?” And we already know that she waited a week! Boooooring!

***This movie was phenomenal! My roommate had been telling me about it and how she really wanted to see it and that same day I got an email saying I’d won tickets!

****We are both vegetarians; she’s a dietitian in training and I’m a nutritional scientist, so needless to say that whole grains and fruits and veggies are already staples in our house.

*****We were actually waaaaaay happier to be eating this cheesecake than the picture would lead you to believe. But this was like our 5th try to get the photo, with previous attempts missing the cheesecake or cutting one of us off, since we were taking the photo ourselves. And by that point, we just wanted to eat the cheesecake already!!

{November 1, 2006}   Incongruity

I just noticed that my photo and my status in my facebook sidebar thingy are rather incongruous.

Don’t worry, faithful readers, the situation has now been rectified.

et cetera