I noticed that Shopper's Drug Mart recently started carrying a product called "Darrell Lea Soft Eating Liquorice".


Every time I see it, I wonder ...

What other kind of licorice is there?

Isn't all licorice "eating" licorice?

I recently transferred my membership to a new church. Even though I have been going there on and off for years, I feel awkward all over again, learning how things operate.

I am always five minutes late for services. My former church is five blocks from my house. The new church is ten blocks from my house. I think I am still operating on my old system of when to leave, regardless of the extra driving time. Recently, I commented on it to the pastor's wife. She told me not to feel bad, because she was also five minutes late every week, and blamed it on her nine year old son, until she realized that the church clock is set five minutes fast. Now that I know this ... I am still always five minutes late.

My new church is set up in such a way that, when you walk in, you have no idea of which seats are free, and no inconspicuous way of finding out. I tend to automatically go up to the balcony. Most of time there are other people up there, and if there aren't, I can easily spot a seat below. Today, as I walked in, the usher greeted me by saying, "Going up?". I wanted to reply, "I sure hope so ... That's why I'm here!".

My biggest problem seems to be communion. The prospect of being first in line terrifies me, and I am always hoping that I am doing things "the right way". I have to say that I liked communion at my old church better, because there was a communion rail all around the sanctuary. At this one, there are rails along the sides, but they also have you kneel along the front. I feel a bit too "out there" for my own comfort when I'm in the front. Also, I always seem to kneel down so that the edge of the stairs is digging right under my kneecaps, which, as you might guess, isn't the best feeling.

This morning, as the woman next to me was kneeling down, I noticed that she kneeled a lot further onto the step than I usually do. I decided to follow suit, in an effort to be more comfortable, chastising myself for not realizing such a simple and obvious solution to my problem earlier. However, I failed to take into account the fact that this woman is taller than me and has much longer legs, and the step I was kneeling on is at a level necessary for climbing rather than kneeling. As my feet lost all contact with the floor, I realized that I had made a tragic and embarrassing miscalculation. With my legs at a 90 degree angle, and nothing but air behind me and in front of me, I wiggled my toes and realized that I had absolutely no idea how I was going to get up again.

Did I manage to stand up gracefully?

"Yes, with the help of God."

I don't know why, but I have really been looking forward to seeing the new Jack Black movie Nacho Libre! It looks so funny ... extremely stupid ... but also very funny. I might have to rent it or catch it at Rainbow. I have been watching the trailers on the website and on TV, and I crack up every time. There is also a very simple wrestling video game on the site called NACHO KUNG-FU which is "muy maravilloso", and you can make wrestling posters and trading cards with your picture on them.

I think the main reason why I am looking forward to Nacho Libre is because it reminds me of an old Mad TV character, El Asso Wipo ("I will break your back, like so! With my knee!").

Also, I am a big fan of fake Spanish accents ... and real Spanish accents. I think it all stems back to when I was a kid, and used to listen to my Ferdinand book and record all day ... and "es-smell the flow'rs".

Last week, I was watching the MTV Movie Awards, and saw Gnarls Barkley perform "Crazy" dressed as the characters from Star Wars. Not only is this my new favorite song, but the performance was pretty cool. The lead singer was dressed as Darth Vader (but he had to take off the helmet to sing). There was also a brown robed Jedi, Jango on keyboards, two Stormtroopers (bass and guitar), three X-Wing Pilot backup singers, four Imperial Officers on violin, and Chewbacca on drums. Throughout the performance, the song lyrics scrolled in yellow-gold print on the large screen behind the band.



Tonight, I heard "Crazy" on the radio as I was leaving the apartment to go bowling, and again at the bowling alley, so when I came home, I watch the video on Yahoo!, and I like it even more than the live performance. It is a series of morphing inkblots that have the faces of the band hidden in them, like a Rorschach test.



I don't know about the rest of you, but as I watched this, my mind was concocting a very catchy, but tasteless, advertising campaign for a counselling service ... or at the very least, some ironic "on-hold" music. (Don't dare steal my idea either; I will find you!)

Speaking of "stealing", it has been brought to my attention that I have been doing a lot of copyright infringement by using photos to punctuate my stories, but I've decided to continue to risk it, for the sake of hilarity.

Last night, a few of my co-workers and some of our current group home residents went to a Supper and Games Night put on by The Salvation Army. The evening was a fundraiser for my boss and other officers to travel to Bangladesh next year on a missions trip. Admission was charged, but there was also an auction, a silent auction, and raffle prizes.

The event was held at the Salvation Army Community Centre, and the ticket sales and raffle drawing was held in the room where services are held, so essentially, they were gambling AND doing it inside the church. Some people might not have a problem with that, especially when it all goes to benefit third world missions, but many people did express their dismay. One of my co-workers, who was helping to sell the tickets (I guess you'd call her "the money changer" in this story!) said a lot of people came up to her and said, "This is wrong, you know!". However, they typically said it as they handed over their money for some tickets!!!

It put me in mind of a story my mother told me about my Great Aunt Irene. Years ago, she bought a church raffle ticket on a microwave, and won. Apparently, she had not considered this possiblity, and was quite distressed about what to do with the ill-gotten proceeds of her gambling. She finally decided to donate the microwave back to the church. My mother pointed out that, despite what her aunt did with the raffle prize, the sin, if you consider it that, was not winning the raffle; it was buying the ticket.

The Bethany Home was lucky enough to win several prizes, including an Operation game, some LEGO, and a Playdough set ... possibly due to the fact that very few people purchased tickets. I joked that it put me in mind of the 1973 Oscars, when Marlon Brando sent Shasheen Little Feather up on stage to decline his Oscar for The Godfather due to "the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry":

I refuse to accept this LEGO playset as long as there is still gambling in the House of the Lord! Stand up, stand up for Jesus!!!

We left before the poker game began, or I'm sure that Charlene could have continued our winning streak!

What would my blog be without an oldie, but a goodie ... the chimpanzee rant!!!

Those of you who have known me for awhile will recall this article from the online Psychology Student's Society magazine, The Freudian Slip. This is my chance to find out if it was really funny, or just amusing to people who live on coffee and haven't slept in three days if you don't count that brief moment in Arts 41 before the janitor gave them a poke with his broom.

Ah ... the good old days.

FUN FACT: You would not believe how many people have told me that when Barenaked Ladies released "Another Postcard" (a.k.a. "The Chimpanzee Song"), it made them think of me, because of this article.

November 2000

As I come to the end of my psychology degree (exactly one month left!), I have been re-evaluating my time here at the U of S. Last month, during one of my numerous all-nighters (actually, I think I was gabbing with Teri Burant on the phone at the time, but doesn't 'all-nighter' make me sound more studious?), a distressing thought suddenly came to me:

Where is my chimpanzee???

This is probably the true measure of what a hick Saskatchewan village I grew up in, but, in all seriousness, I went into the psychology program fully expecting to be issued my own chimpanzee at some point in time. Likely in third year, we would return to school in the fall, and someone in authority would hand my primate over to me, dressed in a little pair of jeans and a 70s style plaid shirt no doubt. I would be expected to take him home to live with me, and return him at the end of the semester, having learned some sign language or some sort of a maze.

Talk about your ultimate in a bad partner for group work:

"Well, I would have been done on time, Professor, but MR. BANANAS here wasn't holding up his end of the bargain!".

Where would I get such an idea, you ask? Think of every psychologist you've ever seen on TV or in a movie, and they fall into three categories:

1) they have a therapist's couch,
2) they have some sort of primate, or
3) some sort of primate is sitting on their therapist's couch pouring out how his mother never loved him enough and always tried harder when delousing his younger siblings.

I know that they have them hidden somewhere in those U-shaped hallways ... and I'm not leaving without him!