Monday, April 25, 2005

Awww....Those Crazy Christians.

I saw Sin City yesterday. And last night I dreamt of horrid yellow horny goblins. Gahhhh...I am so much better with hyper-realistic violence and gore than the Sin City variety, it's too close to what happens in my head, and far too creepy. As it's been a while since I visited the good people at, I thought I'd pop by to see what they had to say about this little gem of a film.

For those not in the know, is a site I found on my friend Beau's site, it has all sorts of helpful advice on dating, lifestyle etc. (more on that later) but it also has a kick ass movie section where you can see how films rate on a Christian scale. Kirk Cameron movies tend to do well, Tarintino, not so well. Check it out at:

Some Sin City Excerpts:

"This movie is not Evil, it's a wake up call, that a good christian soldier would be proud to respond to, not by attacking the film, but by purifying the world so that the film no longer exemplifies reality."

"Anyone who complains about the violence misses the fact that this is a modern morality tale, much akin to the way "Double Indemity" was. Bad guys are punished. Those who help bad guys, aka "Becky" or "Cardinal Roak" are punished as well. Sacrifice is a very prominent theme amidst a city populated with self-centered individuals. It is so over-stylized to emphasize the incredible choices they are making and how much trouble they are willing to get themselves into for others."

"Watch at your own risk, but be warned; your mind and soul will pay the price."

Personally, I think they're reading a bit much in to it, but whatever floats your boat.

ChristianAnswers also has really helpful advice on other topics, such as:
"Some cases of depression may be caused by chemical imbalances. If that is the cause, then antidepressant drugs may be the answer. God has allowed mankind to learn about many medical tools, and He sometimes uses medicine to heal."
Ummm....well that's a relief. The Prozac won't send me to hell. Funny how different the vibe on medical tools to end unwanted pregnancy is.

"Sex was clearly meant for two people--that is why masturbation goes against God's purpose for sexuality."
Dammit! And hello, what about mutual masturbation? Hmmmm??? That's between 2 (or more!) people.
"Masturbation is almost always a symptom of a deeper need. What is motivating you to masturbation? Are you lonely? Are you depressed? Are you afraid to date? (Are you not spending time getting to know the students in a good youth group?)" horny. Honest.

I know I'll probably go to hell for this post (but not the Prozac!), but really. It's just too good to not poke fun at.

Don't even get me started on the new disposible Pope.

Friday, April 22, 2005

It's Not a Tumor!

C'mon, if you had constant stabbing headaches, cranial pressure, eye flutters and numbness in your hand, you'd think "Aw shit. Maybe it's a tumor." Right? Or maybe I'm just a little bit of a hypochondriac. Because according to my doctor, it is, in fact, not a tumor. And yes, he did say it just like Arnie, proving that there are in fact medical professionals with a sense of humor. Apparently the stabbing headaches are indicitive of stress, which is the same thing my I was told about the stabbing pain in my right breast last summer. Not a tumor, stress. Which is weird, because I don't generally feel stressed. I mean, sure, day to day minor stress, but not big time pain inducing stressed. I really should get back in to yoga or something.

Anywhooo.... after determining that it was not a tumor, my doctor decided to investigate the tingly numbness thing. Blood test showed that I am low in B-12, so to determine if I am not getting enough in my diet or am not absorbing it (something to do with not producing intrinsic factor) my Doc ordered a Shilling's test. All I was told is that it involves taking a radioactive B-12 pill and a urine test. Now in my experience any test that involves radioactive tracers takes as while, as the tracer has to work it's way through your system, so it can be traced. Not wanting to miss more work than necessary, I called the Nuclear Medicine unit at Royal Jubilee Hospital to inquire as to the lengh of the test. 15 minutes I was told, which surprised me, as I figured it was a "Take this pill and pee in this cup after 3 hours" sort of a deal.

So I get to the hospital at 8:45 am, am given a B-12 shot and the pill, and handed what looked like an orange 3 litre gas can and a nuns hat. Ummmm....excuse me? Apparently whoever answered the phone when I called didn't think the fact this test involved a 24 hour urine collection to be relevant information. The little nuns hat was a plastic insert to put over the toilet to pee into, which was then to be transfered in to my gas tank thingy. Yeah, that was a fun call to make to my new job, "sorry, can't come in, I'm harvesting piss today." I mean seriously, it's sort of a take the day off work kind of thing. No one wants to see me sloshing about with a tank of pee.

I owe Ruth a huge thank you for driving me back to the hospital the next dau so that I wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of taking my 2305 ml of pee in the not so subtle container (my name and 25 hour urine collection we sharpied on the side) on the bus.

I've had a wicked nasty cold for the past few days and, despite my Granny's trying to convince me to go to the doctor, I am holding out. I think the whole pee thing was God's way of telling me to chill out on the health woes.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Dodging Bullets With MY Beyatch Fiddy M

Again, it's been over a month since I've blogged. Lawdy, lawdy....I am so negligent. There is so much to write, but I'll have to save the tale of the 24 hr. urine collection for later as there is bigger drama to tell.

I went to Vancouver on Saturday for a quicky (not that kind, gutter head, the musical type). The Album Leaf was playing and as nothing comes to Victoria I was gearing to go. Great show, mad props to Team Waplington for scintellating music conversation. Michelle and I hauled it over to DV8 for a little nosh after, insert mad props to Team Harley/Clay for keeping it real during the motel scene happenning in the 2 adjoining booths(Apparently DV8 is the new hotspot to get yer 4play on). Michelle and I headed back to the car around 2-2:30ish, and as we passed Richards on Richards noticed a rather un-Richards like chachi crowd outside. When we were about a 1/2 block north if the club we heard what sounded like a fire cracker, sort of a pop and woosh, then something passed over our heads and hit the building. I was on the inside (next to the building) and when I turned to Michelle she was holding her cheek. I think she said it stung more than hurt and there was a little cut with a red blotch around it. At that point we thought that some jackass had set off a firecracker, which had hit the building and a little chunk of firecraker shrapnel hit her. We were totally pissed, a few inches up and it would have been in her eye. If I were a few inches taller, it would have been my head. Score 1 point for shorties.

The cops were there within a minute, but we did not stick around as we were both exhausted and irked. We sort of joked that she caught the lightening bolt God intended for me for being such a mean ass, but didn't think much of it other than it was another sketchy Vancouver story (see: witnessing of assault and stabbing & break up of post Holt Renfrew party gay domestic smack down).

The next day Michelle texted me to say that her parents had called and asked if she had heard about the shooting at Richards on Richards. How often do you get to tell your parents, "Yeah mom, I heard about and in fact, was there and sustained a minor injury." Jesus. So we are thinking that the bullet probably hit the building just above us (it was close enough to hear it pass) and a little piece of concrete or something flew off and hit Michelle. So post incident scary, I just keep thinking that if it had hit the metal window frame it could have ricochet in to us. Needless to say, next time I see Michelle, she is getting hella hugs.

Which brings me to a point. Not to be all mega dramatic, but it did sort of get me thinking that it really could be that fast. You're just walking down the street and a random bullet/out of control car/ falling window washer takes you out. Done. Over. No good-byes. No, 'Aw shit, did I tell my parents/partner/friends that I love them today?" So tell them. And for the record, if you are reading this you are probably someone I care about, so if the law of averages make an exception for me and I have another handshake with a bullet, know that you are loved.

Special shout outs to my dearest gangsta girl, who you can all now call Fiddy M.
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