like a post-england madonna

Today's soundtrack:
Urban Hymns by the Verve

Well, following D's lead, I headed to MyHeritage.com in search of my famous twins. The picture is question is this oh-so-flattering shot of me in a sombrero.



Classy, no? Here are the results:
71% Madonna
69% Annette Bening
66% Winona Ryder
65% Virginia Mayo
63% Shania Twain
62% Audrey Tautou
61% Sarah Michelle Gellar
60% Christina Ricci
58% Kim Basinger
58% Hilary Rodham Clinton

Now here's the funny thing. I've been claiming a geneological connection to Mrs. Clinton for years, ever since I discovered that in the early 1600s, a Joseph S- married a Rodham. See, I knew we were related, and this proves it!

I would, however, like to draw attention to the rather non-Edwardian women on this list. I hardly think that Madonna's former wild behaviour fits the doctrines of all that is Edwardian; however, as she is now living in England and wearing more pearls, I suppose I will allow her to remain with only a small sniff of disapproval. And Sarah Michelle Gellar's antics on that Buffy show... tsk tsk tsk... what every happened to wasting away? I would refer Ms. Gellar to Ms. Ryder's far more suitable portrayal of Edwardianism invalidism and lethargy in Dracula.

But then again, I was running around in a sombrero...

neighbours, pt. 2

Today's soundtrack:
CBC Radio 3 Podcast

Finally got my pictures from the summer. This is of an abandoned church we found en route to the Lake (we weren't lost, just detouring). Lindell took many, much fancier pictures (curse him and his fancy cameras), and if he ever puts up a blog, chances are that you could see them there (guilt, guilt, guilt).

But that was the summer. At the moment, it's still snowing. And even though it's in the rent contract, the neighbours still aren't shovelling the snow. Dusty strumpets.

All this is really an elegant form of procrastination. I'm 100 pages from finishing my thesis, but Christmas lethargy has set in, and all I really want to do is curl up on the futon, sip on hot chocolate, and watch my "stories". But today, I've brought home Butler and other performative studies theorists. Nice and light evening reading, no? It's entirely likely, however, that I'll spend the evening thinking up things to say and questions to ask if any of the major political parties phone here looking for support. I've finally accepted the fact that I'll never be able to give my rehearsed speech outlining the atrocities and hypocrises of the Catholic Church to Pope Benny. Clearly, I have a better chance of arguing Harper into a corner.

In other news, the odd oooeeeoooeee music has been replaced with the squeak-squeak-squeak from the bedroom above our room. Maybe it's time to think about an apartment.

neighbours

There is no soundtrack to the day. Why? Because the boys upstairs are playing some weird trance music. A bit of the original oooeeeoooeee of the old Star Trek TV Theme, mixed with some boom ba ba ba of a fake drum kit, and this odd dink dink cowbellish sound. It's been ten minutes and it's not stopping. And the boys are laughing. Laughing! I'm just waiting for the smell of incense to waft down here.

Although the story of the incredibly shrinking woman of D's building is tragic, at least she left something positive within the apartment community. I bet these guys don't even use coasters under their glasses. The horror!

In other news (or perhaps not), I am my mother's daughter. It's official and there's no point in avoiding it. The bananas have gone bad. I'm going to stick them in the freezer. So here's the inevitable question to Nana, Mom, and my quasi-Martha Stewartish friends: does anyone have a good banana bread recipe? The one that includes chocolate?

day of discoveries

Today's soundtrack:
La Margarita Dijo No de Alejandro Sanz.

It's been an exciting few hours.

1) Have just begun talking to a distant relative that lives in a distant country in a distant language. Well, not really a distant language. I just didn't want to break up the flow of that line.
2) Have just discovered CJUS Radio, the university radio station.
3) Have just found two Post-It pads in my backpack, making it impossible for me to procrastinate further.

So without further ado, to Austenlandia I go (N.B. Austenlandia is not nearly as much fun as Pantylandia).