Smile, You're Beautiful. It's Society That's Fucked Up.

Happy International Women's Day to all my sisters out there. May you always have the strength to be your own person, to do the right thing. May you always value yourself. You are precious. You have a place in this world, a right to succeed and be cherished. You are loved and supported.

Let no one take that knowledge away from you.

In the words of my eternally wise and feministicly minded aunt Annette, "Rock on sisters"!

♥.

Elmo is the Devil.

When I was growing up, I always thought it was strange how something can seem so charming from a parent's point of view, but mind numbingly horrifying to their kids. A good example of this is Santa Claus: To a mom or dad, he's a fat, jolly old man who gives away something for nothing. To a toddler, he's a stranger who smells like B.O. and who's probably a child molester. And from the way your parents keep shoving you at him, it seems like you're being abandoned. Merry Christmas little Timmy.

But I think the best instance of the true evil nature of a character being invisible to adults can be observed if we consider "Tickle-me-Elmo". The first time I saw the maniacal gleam in its beady little eyes, heard it cackle and watched it begin to convulse on the floor like something possessed, I knew. It was here to drag unsuspecting children like me down into Hell. And my mother was trying to persuade me that I wanted it for Christmas.

Eventually I managed to convince her that Elmo was not the toy for me. I think the words 'spawn of Satan' might have been thrown around. Okay, maybe not, but when my four-year-old self wailed "BADBADBADBAD!!!!!!!" at pitches that could crack glass, what I really meant to say was "Mom, that is the spawn of Satan and it is here to drag me into Hell. I thought you loved me."

Here is a little pictorial representation for those of you who may not yet be wise to his master plan:

What Parents See:

What Kids See:

I rest my case. Innocence can sense the proximity of the deepest, darkest, blackest EVIL known to mankind and reacts accordingly.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Snape.

Twinkle twinkle little Snape,

How I wonder why you gape,

At the teenage girl who asks

Sweetly for your autograph.

Is it you don't understand

That one so young is such a fan?

You say you do not have a pen.

I shall fix that, my Snape-y friend.

I hope I have not made you mad

By handing you my play program.

I see that Harry's on the cover

But know my dear I like you better. 

Thank you, thank you Alan Rickman!

Though you're scary, like a hit man.

Unlike Snape in normal garb

But still so Snape-like in my heart.

You rock.

The End.

I got Alan Rickman's autograph in NY. He is kind of like Snape personality-wise, although he looks very different without the distinctive wig/costume/makeup combo. I was so happy! :)

A little poem explanation: I had to run around asking strangers to borrow a pen since he wasn't carrying one (Tisk tisk, such unpreparedness!) and he signed my program from the musical we were both watching which starred Daniel Radcliffe. I.E. Harry Potter for those of you who've been living in a hole in the ground for the last eight years or so without television or internet. Congratulations on getting out by the way, as I assume you have since you are reading this. It must have been a boring eight years. You should write a book on your liberation from hole-dom and your return to modern society. Be sure to mention that I explained who that Radcliffe kid was.

Oh, and if you're wondering just how much I love Snape, click here. Otherwise you'll just have to trust me on this one!

Chocolate Makes Me Irrational.

When  I opened my door this morning, I was pleasantly surprised by a little baggie of Valentine's Day chocolate hanging from the nob. It had no tag on it, and I know you're not supposed to take candy from strangers, but I'm a sucker for free sweets.

At first I was pretty sure it was from the RAs. We do, after all, have very thoughtful RAs here.

Then I ate the first piece of chocolate:

Livi: Mmmmmm.... maybe it's from one of my friends!

Second piece of chocolate:

Livi: Mmmmmm.... maybe it's from that cute boy I met last week!

Third piece of chocolate:

Livi: Mmmmmm.... maybe it's from Brad Pitt!

Several chocolates later:

Livi: Oh yeah. It's so from Brad Pitt.

Happy Valentines Day! Oh and here's a life sized chocolate Brad Pitt. Because the only thing that could be more delicious is a chocolate Gerard Butler.

Is this Post Strange? Probably.

I love statistics. They make me feel powerful.

For instance:

Ten percent of all car theives are left handed. All polar bears are left handed. What's the probability that a polar bear just stole your car? Do you know? I know.

BAM. Unstoppable.


A total of 4000 cans are opened around the world every second. Ten babies are conceived around the world every second. When you open a can, what is the chance that you just became pregnant? Do you know? I know.

BAM. All knowing.

Last Question: What is the probability you just read this post? Do you know? I know.

BAM. I am the god of Statistics. Those who disagree have a high probability of getting struck by lightning in the next ten seconds. ;) 

My Feelings On Shakespeare.

First of all, I agree that the man had significant talent and wrote some decent material.

I like reading his plays and sonnets too. I just don't like writing essays on them. I mean, come on. His works have been around since the Elizabethan Era. I'm pretty sure any original material on his life and his writings has long since been used up. People have even considered the possibility that Elvis was abducted by aliens, entered a time warp, and wrote these plays under the pen name Shakespeare.

I hate rehashing the old theories, especially when the essay topic is "Discuss the importance of structure in Shakespeare's Sonnet 12". Seriously! How on earth am I supposed to make that even remotely interesting?!

I wouldn't have had this problem if Shakespeare had given up writing and decided to be a plumber. Sure it would have been a blow to Western culture and the English-speaking world as we know it, but I wouldn't have to write so many damn essays.

Of course, the fifteen hundreds weren't known for their love of indoor plumbing. If Shakespeare had been a plumber, he'd probably have been destitute.

Super What Now?

My family has never been much for televised sports. Oh sure, we watch the Olympics. And try to get me away from the TV when Paul Tingley or the Brazilian soccer players are on.

But in general, no. So it's not totally my fault that I got as far as grade eight not knowing exactly what the Superbowl was. My friend OB was appalled.

OB: So, you gonna watch the Superbowl?

Livi: Nah, I don't think so.

OB: What?! Why not?!

Livi: *dead serious* I'm not really one for televised bowling.

OB: You're joking, right?

Livi: Nope. Really doesn't interest me. I don't even like regular bowling all that much.

OB: We can't be friends anymore. *walks away*

Sad. But true. Thankfully I have since been enlightened. This year I cheered for the Packers, mostly because I have actually been to Green Bay Wisconsin. And their fans wear cheese on their heads. Enough said.

ps: They won! :D

Bullshit! Ten Points from Gryffindor!

Shall we talk Snape?

I love him. I would marry him in a heartbeat and bake him cookies
shaped like Harry Potter so he could act out many tiny deaths as he ate them. That is how I love him and his Snapey-ness. *sighs in a fan-girl fashion*

Snape and I:



This is my masterpiece.

Thanks to MC for inspiring this through our crazy e-mails! Which seem to happen when we are both supposed to be studying...

Snow-pocalypse!

That storm I mentioned finally hit, so Dal cancelled classes this afternoon. And what did I do with my free time? Learn a second language? Practice an instrument? Study for my bio midterm?

Hell no! By now you should know that I never do anything totally constructive if I can find an excuse to do something fun. Except baking. But then I get to eat the constructive results. Not so much with homework.

Anyway, I bundled up as though the world would end encased in ice and I hoped to be the last survivor. Then I made the long, arduous journey across the South end of Halifax to the SMU campus, where I met up with MC, YM and LL.

We were planning to build a snowman, but it wasn't packing snow, so we ended up with a snow-pile instead.





His name is Theodore.

YM: He's cute!

MC: He's amazing!

Livi: . . .He's . . .something.

*Everyone glares at Livi*

Livi: No no, I meant a good something, like "Hey, he's something alright. Something good."

Ahhh, so much fun! :)

Quit Denying This Disaster.

We have a HUGE snowstorm on the way today! On the scale of white Juan, if that means anything to you. If not... well, it's huge. As in oh, I don't know...30-40 cm of snow in 24 hours!

But the university decided to stay open today until the weather turns, so we will all be snowed in and they can make lots of money off the stranded students. It's clearly another conspiracy.

As always I blame aliens. Or spiders. Or peas. Or spider-aliens who love peas *shudder*. Could something so horrible exist?! Luckily, under the covers = invincible, so they won't get me while I sleep. I may suffocate, but I will be safe from monsters.

On the bright side though, there will be much snowing and perhaps tomorrow they will shut it down at last! *crosses fingers*