Welcome back, Playboy class of 96

I had my ten year high school reunion on Saturday night, and so made the trek back to large-sized Canadian city Vangroover for it (and more importantly, for the film festival) and while much of it resembled a shitty high school dance, there were some good moments. I wasn't aware of the fact that I went to school with so many Playboy bunnies, but they were engaged in a full-scale breast fest, as little black dresses and breasts galore filled the room. It seemed to be a competition of who could show the most cleavage, and most people (excluding me) were up for the challenge (or down for it, as even the short little girls had breasts spilling out of their tops). Wearing a black skirt, polka dotted top, knee high black boots and chunky pearls, I felt like a nun compared with most of the other women. And while some of them really were sexy, many of them simply looked trampy - and this is coming from the original skank herself, so if I thought they were slutty, I wonder what everyone else thought. Probably something all the lines of "how can I get laid tonight without my wife noticing?". My father later pointed out that many of their large breasts could have been attributed to lactation, given that as mothers of two or three children, the likelihood of them just having given birth in the last few months is quite high. Then again, some of them had 3 children by the time they were 20, so they have no excuses, unless they became strippers to pay for their stupid life decisions.

For a reunion that was entitled "Glitter and Glam", this was about the least glittery and glammy event I have ever been to - hell, my apartment is more glittery than this ballroom was. Decked out with one sad little "Welcome back NDSS Grads" banner, the room didn't even have a mirror ball, for fuck's sakes! Ecoli-filled appetizers lay on lukewarm trays, some vegetables sat sadly in the corner, and expensive drinks were being sold to those who quickly used up their one free drink ticket. Even a bottle of water was $4, which I found out after deciding the white wine was viler than the cat's piss wine (Gato Negro) that comes in a juice box. While they always say you shouldn't get drunk at your reunion, it seemed I was the only one who was wasn't drunk, which actually helped me have a little more fun as I continued my people-watching role that I also played in high school. There were roughly 200 people there, which is quite pathetic if you consider the fact that my graduating class had about 750 people in it. And half of the people there were husbands and boyfriends who didn't go the school.

I saw some people I wanted to, many that I didn't, and was quite amused by the fact that the girl who started the lesbian rumour about me and two friends in high school walked past me a number of times but did not say hello. Granted I could have said hello too, but I didn't really want to. Me and the two supposed lesbians considered groping each other in front of her for good measure, but eventually decided against it. I chatted with a few long-lost friends, had some guys who I don't even think went to my highschool hit on me (despite my lack of cleavage), and was nearly hoarse and deaf by the end of the night as the music was so loud the only way you could hear people was to yell like you were at a Slayer concert.

Professions of past classmates included construction workers, teachers, drug dealers, dental hygenists, assistants to the assistant film director, screenwriters, nurses, full time mothers, and as far as I could tell, only one other librarian. And she was actually the girl that I'd known since I was 4, was friends with all through school and then haven't talked to for a few years. In the interim, she has moved into a condo that is two blocks from my father's condo, and has almost the same profession that I do (school librarian, not public). This proves earlier theories that we may in fact be halves of the same person and even if we do not stay in touch, it is likely that we will continue to lead relatively similar lives.

The love of my high school life (unbeknownst to the guy, of course) was not there, but he became somewhat of an urban legand as a few people told stories about him. Apparently he is on the road to becoming a high school teacher, is adverse to any kind of technology, and grows large pumpkins and vegetables in his garden that he fashions musical instruments out of. I did spend the latter part of the night (until about 5am) speaking with two of his friends (one who is very much like Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused) in another friend's hotel room, after we had made the rounds at the downtstairs casino (part of the hotel we were staying at).

At one point, two TV actors decided to crash our party, one of them pretending he went to our high school. Jason Gedrick, from Windfall and Boomtown, is far too old, and Jared Padalecki, from Supernatural and the Gilmore Girls, was born in 1982 in Texas (god bless the IMDB). I went up to Jared and asked his if he really did attend our school or if he was just shitting us, and he swore up and down that he did until his buddies started laughing, and I said, well it was nice meeting you anyways, you fraud. Love your show, by the way! One wonders why two actors would bother going to something as stupid as a high school reunion - but I suppose the drunk, cleavagy women might have had something to do with it.

All in all, it was an enjoyable night, and even though my Romy and Michelle dreams of meeting the school geek who became a billionaire and flying off in his helicopter did not happen, it was almost worth the $60. I can't guarantee that I will be first in line for the 20th reunion, unless of course I get a boob job, become an exotic dancer and provide the night's entertainment.

Apparently phones and lightning don't mix

Perhaps the only thing that pissed me off more last night than the Rock Star finale was the discovery that the lightning strike from Sunday morning killed my phone. It appears to still work, but there is no dial tone, no ringer and no record of calls made after Sept 10 (lightning day). The only way I even found out that it was dead was when I went to call my friend to complain about Rock Star and heard the tell-tale "you have voicemail" beeps. That's weird, I thought, because there was no record of voicemails on my phone, so I listened to the messages only to discover 9 people had called over the last 4 days, including people I would really have liked to talk to when they called. The strange thing is that while my fancy schmancy Best Buy phone is toast, my $10 London Drugs phone still works (but has virtually no ringer, so I wouldn't have even heard it when it rang). Even if I had bought a warranty from Best Buy (and I didn't, because a few people convinced me otherwise) it may have expired by now anyways, and I'm not even sure if "acts of god" would be covered in repairs. They should, especially in a city like this that has a few storms every week this time of year. Anyways, I'm pissed off, because I have had nothing but phone problems since I moved here - first Telus sucking and now this. Maybe I should resort entirely to email from now on, or messages in bottles.

Rockstar: Super Shitheads

I can't believe that Supernova picked the fucking whiny drama queen Lukas Rossi as their new singer ... but it does makes sense, because they are a shitty band and now they have a suitably shitty lead singer as well. If they had picked cutey Toby, Magni or even Ryan, they might have felt pressured to make good music, which may have been logistically impossible when you have someone like Tommy Lee in your band. But with having Lukas, who wore more eye makeup then all the women on the show combined, I can safely say they are not at risk of making good music and will continue on with classic hits like "With a hey hey hey, and ho ho ho, where do you want to go?". This show is shaping up quite like last year's, because both JD and Lukas were the only two singers I didn't want to win - I would have been happy with virtually anyone else. Even Dilana, who reminds me of an Australian friend I travelled with in South America. For those of you not familiar with her, she is not someone you would strive to be compared to. And now the world is going to think that Canada produces a whole lot of moody little assholes like JD and Lukas as musicians, which is ok in the case of bands like Matthew Good Band or maybe even Supernova, but not for a quality band like INXS. It also figures that pink book girl had Lukas as her favourite, and she's an idiot (sorry, but it's true) so I suppose she not only thinks like Supernova but also like the rest of the world. The moral of the story is that they are all idiots, and because I already know that, I shouldn't get so pissed off when the idiots win.

Broke their legs and had to shoot them

"Do you have a boyfriend?", a 14 year old asked me today, and when I said Uh no, I don't, he said "But how is that possible? You're just so loveable!". Well, if you can find a way to double your age overnight, I told him, then maybe we'll talk. This kid is a little charmer - how come they stop being so charming once they grow up?

He is the senior member of a group of tweens who have just started using the teen area, and while they are very loud and more giggly than someone addicted to helium, I am trying to encourage their being in the teen area in an attempt to phase out my druggie dropouts. Some of the druggies went to school for a few days the first week of September to pretend they actually care, before skipping out and showing up at the library every day at 10am, and some of them didn't even try at all and start at 9am smoking weed and meth in the park before coming into the library. And some of them are over 18 but act like children. Children who say "Fuck that bitch, I'm going to kick his fucking ass, rape his girlfriend, and then go get high", that is.

Any suggestions on how to deal with these little shits? Library brat camp? Lace the meth with something poisonous (wait, isn't it already poisonous?) , and bury their bodies under the trees in the park? Get someone to kick the shit out of them or throw them off a bridge so that they don't die, but have enough sense knocked into them that they become preppies? So many choices, so little time. To quote (ok, to paraphrase) my buddy St Francis of Assisi, "Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to hide the bodies of the people I had to kill because they pissed me off".

I also had an enjoyable conversation with J today, who wanted me to help translate the word "culture" into various languages for a collage drawing he was making that had a pink barbie and a skater boy, and then proceeded to tell me his new favourite thing was lesbians. Not for any sexual reason, just because they are fun. Yesterday he told me he wants to have plastic surgery so he has hands where his feet are, so he can be like the weird chick in Aeon Flux. This kid is nothing if not random - and when I even try to mention going away for a week he yells really loudly, so that all the staff in the children's department can hear, "why are you leaving us, you can't leave us and move there forever - how dare you, I thought you loved us!". He may be the biggest drama queen in the mezz, and he's not even an Emo or a Goth.

Zowie!

I had an interesting start to my day: my apartment building was hit by lightning this morning at 6am. Luckily there was no damage to the building, but the smoke alarm and fire department thought otherwise, as the alarm (which is louder than an air raid siren and is accompanied by flashing lights) went off immediatly and the fire engines showed up soon after. I think the electrical charge must have triggered the alarm, and while it was migraine-inducing, it's nice to know that I cannot possibly sleep through it should we have a real fire. Talk about dramatic, though: the crack of thunder, bright light and shudder of the building woke me instantly and honestly made me think an airplane had flew into our building. While I scrambled to throw on jeans and a sweater before I went outside, not many other people did, and the hail and rain was enough to drive people back under cover fairly quickly. What's strange is that while we've had some enormous storms over the summer, this one was relatively small in comparison, apart from the whole getting hit by lightning thing. I guess being the tallest building (complete with turrets) on one of the only hills in our city does help our chances substantially.

Dr Jekyll and Mrs Teen

When did I become huggy crafty bear? At some point over the last year I went from the "hugs are bad" girl who couldn't make a craft to save her life (nor would she want to) to the librarian who not only makes duct tape purses, bead creatures and other assorted crafts, but who actually enjoys doing such activities. The hugging has been getting more frequent as well - and while it was started by the teens, not by me, I haven't exactly discouraged it. What am I supposed to do when they zoom in for a hug - say, get away from me, you emo freak?!. I don't think so.

Today after school I was surrounded by various entourage members - 5 boys to be exact - and all of a sudden I was struck by how weird it was that 5 teenage boys were sitting around chatting with a teen services librarian instead of doing any other number of things that 5 teenage boys would normally do. This is the most popular I've been in years. It's a shame they're all under 20 years old, because apart from that fact this is quite the confidence booster. Luckily I haven't watched enough Nip/Tuck yet (only the first 2 seasons in the last 2 weeks) to draw any dark or depraved conclusions about what this might mean about my personality.

Weeds

I spent four years at Harvard sitting in on classes and fucking smart chicks. Never paid a cent, and graduated magna cum loudly.

I've never been much of pot smoker, but I quite like the show Weeds, especially when the writers come up with lines like this - this one was courtesy of the deadbeat brother (played by Justin Kirk), who is telling his nephew about how he hung out in a van at an Ivy League school even though he wasn't a student there.

It's getting hot in here

I need to freak out a little before I continue with my day ... no, don't worry, I have not come down with any other diseases in the last week and am not dating Cryptococcus boy. These particular issues are work-related.

When I first started at the library in June 2005 I was overwhelmed with the position (being the only one in my department), but there was a certain safety in having the whole space to myself in that if I fucked up those mistakes were all my fault and there were few people who would even know that I had fucked up in the first place. But now I have a part-time employee, and will soon be hiring another to help with teen programs, and will be sharimg my desk with the new Outreach Librarian who starts on October 1, and frankly, I'm a little pissed off. Sure it's great to have all the help I can get when it comes to dealing with my impossible teens, but I kind of liked being the one and only teen librarian person here, and now I will no longer be the center of attention. Moreover, having staff means that I have to tell those staff what to do, which means I need to know what to do myself, which is not always the case.

I also feel like I am being a bit boxed in by the library director (which may be his intent) and it will be even more difficult for me to leave this job in a year or two, as I will inevitably do. Maybe he knows I want to leave and is trying to give me even more responsibility so I won't want to, or will feel that I can't, leave. On the flipside, I could say that hiring staff and then leaving wouldn't be such a bad thing because at least I would not be leaving the library completely high and dry. Plus I will have some bright shiny new skills to put on my resume. I am very conflicted right now - change is good, but I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and am a little tempted to run away screaming. I won't do that, because I'm not a quitter, but the thought did cross my mind.

How to spike a guy in ten days

It seems I am not capable of correctly answering the question So, what do you do for fun?. Every time someone asks me that I scramble for an answer, realizing that what they would consider fun is not what I would consider fun, so I either have to lie and make something up or say I like to read, watch movies, buy clothes and write literary reviews and watch the blank look on their face when they look at me, prompting them to again ask, So, what do you do for fun?. Of course, I also run the risk of looking pathetic if I take too long to answer the question - because that implies that if you can't answer the question, you don't know how to have fun. Or I could just say I kill kittens and exploit little boys, and maybe that would satisfy them.

I just met a guy today (who I may have to call Cryptococcus Guy, because he's one of the dudes responsible for trying to control the pigeon problem in my building) when he came into my apartment to put nasty-looking spikes up on the roof overlooking my balcony, supposedly so pigeons will not hang out there as much and shit on my deck. We chatted for a bit and in a rare moment of weakness, I actually gave him my phone number. Now I am trying to decide if I should go out with him should he decide to call, or whether I should screen his calls and pretend it never happened. Unfortunately, he does know where I live, and he could easily track me down. I suppose he couldn't be any worse than the asshole from January, and he doesn't look like any past boyfriends, or have the same name, but I did get a similar response from him that I have gotten from others when I tell them what I do (and that it required 6 years of university): Oh, you're smart. I don't think I know how to answer that question either: Yes, thanks, I am, or No, you're just dumb, that's all, or the standard fall-back Oh, I went to school for a long time but didn't really learn anything. I don't really want to go out with some pretentious university professor, but I also don't really want to date a construction worker, so what's a girl to do? There don't seem to be many rugged yet quietly intellectual guys in my mid-sized Canadian city. These are confusing times we are living in, are they not?