Three Days Was The Morning

Nov 28

Three days without internet = teh suck. In between being internetless and gimped with a gouged finger, I went back to playing DAoC and am happy to announce that Asny once the hunter, now the bard, is almost 50. For those not in the know, 50 is the highest level in the game – I can now switch from constantly killing monsters to gain experience and move on to killing other players fulltime. Weee!

Today I celebrate my first real American Thanksgiving. My mother-in-law asked me to help out by making some mashed ‘taters and whipping up my mom’s infamous strawberry & garden greens salad. For your information, I managed to make the best batch of mashed potatos I’ve ever tasted in my life, if I do say so myself. Yum.

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Problems

Nov 25

I got an email from Alley today about the commenting system on 27things. She said the when she tried to post, the comment saved to her hard drive rather than posting. This leads me to wonder if anyone A) is having the same problem or B) knows why this is happening to Alley.

If you are having this same problem, please email me: dusty(at)27things(dot)com.

EDIT: Alley, I just noticed that your comments actually posted. Weird that your browser wants to save them to your HD, but they are posting.

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I’m Free!!

Nov 22

I just wrapped up a 12 hour Moveable Type Conversion marathon. John’s site has been doing sick amounts of traffic, and despite our recent hosting upgrade, we felt it was in our (wallet’s) best interest to move it off our current host before we exceed our bandwidth. His new home is at BloggerZone.com, a host geared toward serving the specific needs of blogger types, supporting things like the long coveted MoveableType.

Ofcourse John took one look at the MT installation docs and gave up, leaving me to offer my set up and configuration services. Nice for me since, I’d never had a successful set up due to missing DB stuff on our old host.

I finally get it running and then have to convince him NOT to use the standard MT template. This is one of my pet peeves. In my opinion, if your blog has the need for a powerful backend like MT, it also has need for a unique design. 75% percent of the time I can identify a MoveableType site with out having to scroll down to the “powered by” link.

So he agrees to let me rebuild his old design in MT, which I foolishly estimate will be done in 2 hours or less. Let’s just say the site is done, but I don’t want to see it again for a long time.

Now I’m off to reward myself with a shower and hours of uninterrupted, mindless gaming.

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Don’t Eat Me

Nov 20

The other day John told me of a news story about a man who died alone in his apartment and was then eaten by his dog. No big shocker for a Town girl like me.

Many years ago, during a summer heat wave, a dead man was found (and smelled) right across from the donut shop us kids hung out. As if that alone wasn’t enough for our volunteer FD and ambulance team, the guys dog had chewed apart most of his leg. Ah, yes, there’s a fine line between devotion and dinner.

Although I’ve never died, I do have my own related dog story. My dog, Mags, ate my wisdom teeth.

I had just returned from having the top teeth pulled out and was feeling pretty good despite the extraction. My mom had come to town in order to accompany me incase I died from the tooth pulling (as if). We dropped my little packets of gauze and the teeth off at my studio and made a midday dash for the train station to buy tickets for the an upcoming holiday visit. When we got back the teeth were gone. Since the teeth were fresh out of my mouth it is doubtful that the blood on them was even dry. I’m sure they made a delightful snack for Mag’s and if asked, she’d probably tell you, “Oh, yeah, Mom is yum!”

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Does The Subject Really Matter?

Nov 19

Super tired today, as I attmpted to stay up and withness the Leonids. Despite the fact that I was in bed 2 hours before the announced peak of the performance, I’m still writing this off as a major disappointment.

Every August there are awesome meteorite showers viewable in areas north of Toronto, such as Alliston where my dad lives. They are never announced as once in a lifetime events, yet they easily kick the Leonids’ fiery ass. Between midnight and 2 am I saw one stinky meteor. Booo!

Anyway, it was my intention to post a picture of my bread knife injury today, but in the course of tending to the wound, I went ahead and put on a new bandaid. It looks nice and frankenstien-sh, despite the lack of stitches.

Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

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I Want My Mommy!

Nov 16

Yesterday, after I picked John up from work we stopped off at specs to grab some Friday night wine and cheese. I also grabbed a sourdough baguette because they’re my favorite.

Once we got home, I immediately set to work on my little wine and cheese platter, starting with the baguette. The bottom crust was really thick so I decided it would be a brilliant idea to flip the loaf over and cut through the bottom first.

Wrong.

I took one slice at the crust and the serrated bread knife bounced off the loaf and right into my index finger. John heard me screaming “Ow ow ow ow!!” and came to my rescue with his impeccable first aid.

Needless to say, my finger freakin’ hurts like hell and I am too gimped to properly style my new haircut.

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Now That’s A Haircut

Nov 15

Before After



I was off to the Galleria today for a long overdue haircut. You may not be able to tell from the pics, but I chopped off at least 8 inches. No more hair getting in my mouth when I eat and sleep and walk and talk and breathe…

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What’s With The Goat?

Nov 15

Nice catch, Rich!I just wanted to post a short note thanking my friend Rich for allowing me to steal his photo of our old place on Ontario Street.

Who’s your friend, Richard?

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Nobody Helps When I Get In A Fight

Nov 15

As I mention in my list of 27 random things about me, I am an only child. Growing up, I bugged my parents a lot, mainly because I was bored and sometimes because I wanted them to play one of my 27 trillion board games with me.

(Take note: Board games are the worst gifts to give an only child. Imagine the torture of a cool, new game that you can’t enjoy because you have no one to play it with!!)

In order to alleviate the constant bugging my parents did 3 very important things: dropped me off at my grandparents a lot; taught me advanced math like how to multiply 1394857904858 by 43948873838 (ha! see ya in an hour kid!); encouraged me to read.

99% of the time my mother’s response to “I’m bored,” was “Read a book!” As a result, I had piles of books growing up, and have read so many in my lifetime that I’m lucky if I can remember reading even half of them.

Yesterday I was chatting with my buddy Jeff, and he asked if I had read much Shel Silverstein as a kid. I immediately rattled off a few verses of the first poem that ever really meant something to me. It’s the first poem I can remember relating to, and after all these years, reminds me of what it was like to grow up as an only child.

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Once Upon A Time On Ontario Street

Nov 14

Some of you may not realize that I wasn’t always a graphic artist turned American immigrant house wife. Way back in the day (pre 1998), I was a struggling writer with heavy emphasis on the struggling. During that time, I lived in a studio (the Toronto term for industrial live-in warehouse) in Regent Park, one of the less beautiful areas of Toronto.

This particular warehouse, formerly a boot factory, had somewhat of a legacy among my circle of friends and studio no. 206 was a classic hand-me-down. Originally rented in my name by 2 of my highschool buds, it wasn’t until the original lease had long ended that I actually came to live there.

The entire building was infested with roaches and our unit was certainly no exception. I distinctly remember sitting at my desk reading a book and having a giant cockroach fall from the ceiling 14 feet above me, hitting the desk beside my hand with a serious thud. What was even more problematic was that the entire building had, at some point, been sandblasted. As a result, if someone above you got to doing the hokey pokey, the ceiling would rain a light sprinkling of sand down on your head… not to mention the mystery liquids that often seeped in between floor boards and dripped down.

STUDIOS FOR RENT. CALL MERVIN.

Studios for Rent. Call Mervyn

My room was the only one that had a window, sporting a lovely view of a dirty alley way and a red brick wall. On one occasion I had a friend over and as she parted the Goodwill sheets I used as curtains she said, “Must be pretty grim to look out your window everyday and see ‘Martial Law Is Coming’ spray painted on that wall.” Given the circumstances and the reality of my life at that time, it would have been more depressing to look out the window each day and read, “You will wake up tomorrow.”

This was the most down and out time of my life, and I relied heavily on the kindness of my friends; wonderful people who gave me paints, food, hope and strength. One of those people happens to be Rich, who lived on the other side of my bedroom wall. In the end, good things happened. During this time I learned that I loved to draw, paint and make zines and comics… finally accepting that writing wasn’t going to get me out of that place. After a year I moved out and with the assistance of the Canadian government I went back to college.

Douglas Coupland had “My Hotel Year”; I’ll always have “My Ontario Street Year.”

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