This Google Poem

this poem is about cognitive-behavioral therapy
this poem is about a brief period of unrequited emotions
this poem is about abortion and I find it amazing that you can absolutely disagree with everyone
this poem is about a medical condition I have.
this poem is about alot of things and really hits an emotion string
i'll tell you what this poem is about. It's about living in the moment.
this poem is about the war in Iraq
i think this poem is about flying elephants soaring on the horizon of feministic values. But the elephants are depressed like Anne Heche
i think this poem is about getting people to stop and consider, 'what makes you think you're the one running the show?
this poem is about not just hearing your friend, but actually taking the time to listen and understand them.

this poem is not about insomnia at all
this poem is not about the horror of wars or anything like that
this poem is not about man's relationship to nature.
(This poem is not about) Transubstantiation.
this poem is not about the physical
this poem is not about temptation.
this poem is not about some sleaze ball trying to "seize the day" and get laid

[*] [*]

Overheard in Ottawa

On the #14: Two acquaintances discussing call centre work

Earnest young woman: I just tell them I'm Canadian and they come around.

Lord of the Rings Fan: Is it legal to tell them we're Canadian?

Earnest young woman: It's not. I say I'm originally Canadian, and working in New Jersey and it's cold...

In a Transitway Shelter:

Algonquin Student (to her cell phone): No, no, 56 mm is fine. Alex had the super-sensing ones and he said... [lowering voice] It's weird 'cause I'm talking in Baseline Station... but Alex said... anyway he said 56 is fine.

Doggy detox

I've been a bad, bad dog. First Coun. Dog (sic. hah.) Thompson hires trappers to run me outta Dodge - um, okay, Greely. They catch a couple of my slower eastern brethren and bring down all manner of vigilante doofuses (doofi?) on moi's frisky tail.

Okay, I know it's gettin' hot. I scoot the Top Sekrit Furtress of Solitude over to Richmond. Where, suddenly, like, Coun. Jan Harder jumps onto the anti-coyote bandwagon and gets all, like, "you are so not allowed here, either!" What's wrong with these people? Don't they know that a semi-mythical coyote on a heavy chocolate jag is uncatchable?

It's not all bad. A small, vocal pro-coyote lobby is spamming the Petfinder, explaining that ya don't leave small pets and food outside, unsupervised, for long periods in semi-rural areas. (Letters with pix of highly photogenic Alberta coyotes... Yoohoo! Over here, mister shutterguy!) Others kindly and correctly note there's way more than one kind of rural predator checking out the daily specials on the menu. And wonder exactly who's unbalancing the ecology more here, anyway, coyotes or people? I have my opinions.

Still, despite the joy of a good chase, certain of the Irregulars worry. When they finally catch up to me Saturday night, snarfing Hershey's on the curb outside the Mac's on Gladstone, the IO suggests I've been really pissy lately. The Short Guy says I should lay off the chocolate and let my kidneys recover. Aggie fixes me with a gimlet eye -- maybe two, hard to tell because she's a teensy bit unfocused -- and urges me to get the hell out of town and lay low for my own good. A spa retreat, I ask? A nunnery? Hopefully...

Nope. This is intervention, big-time. Those rat bast... ummmmm, friends, concerned for my safety and well-being... jump me and slam me into a travel crate. And ship me to detox. In Sudbury. Here, I languish, jonesing in a lockdown facility. Coyotes have no pockets in which to smuggle in their chocolate stashes. Grim.

It's not all whacks on the nose with newspapers, though. I'm apparently recovering in record time. Heh. The counsellors (No nuns in sight. None.) are very impressed with my progress. If I'm a good dog, they'll let me go on the field trip to the nickel mine. If I'm a really good dog, they might persuade the tour guides to let me spell out my name in glowing slag... and how cool is that?

Another Friday Night with Fourth Dwarf

"Care to see a flick Friday night?" a pretty pixie asked me this week.

Always liking it when the lady makes the first move, I happily agreed. "What are we going to see?"

"There will be Blood," she told me.

"Gee, sweety," I said. "I don't like vampire movies."

"Don't worry," she said, "it's not a vampire movie. You'll like it, I promise."

"Oh, ho!" I thought. "It must be a pirate movie!" (Wrong, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

Dinner at the Buffet Moni Mahal

The Buffet Moni Mahal has the best Indian buffet in downtown Ottawa or the Glebe. (I've tried them all unless a new Indian restaurant has opened in the last month.) The price is lower than most and it has a wider variety of items. In fact, at least double the number of dishes you'll find at Haveli or the East India Company.

There is always butter chicken. There is always egg plant. There is always spinach.

We both enjoyed our meals. The staff said nothing about the number of plates I used.

Moni Mahal Buffet
164 Laurier Avenue West, Ottawa, ON K1P 5J4
Tel: 613-234-8882

[Many online references have the Moni Mahal on Laurier Ave East. This is wrong. And may embarrass you if you take a taxi from Slater Street.]

There will be Blood

It's not a vampire movie and it's not a pirate movie. It's a mining movie! To be specific, it's about the early days of oil drilling, but it starts in a gold pit. It brought me back to my youth, I tell you.

I was fascinated because I've had little experience with oil. Sticking mostly with salt, coal and of course, the precious gems and minerals. But I can tell you, the scenes in the pits were realistic.

The movie also had lovely music from the London Philharmonic except that a lot of the time you could tell that something horrible was going to happen just because the music was so loud and screechy. Can't they hear those violins? Don't they know that she's about to blow?

Favourite quote: "I'd like you better if you didn't treat me like I was stupid."

Noteworthy credits:

• Standby Greens - Ryan Bust [He has an entry on IMdb; And this article says "The greensman is a specialist who decides how and where to place plants and greenery in the film scenes."]
• Albert Chi as himself [How can a movie set between 1899 and 1929 have someone playing themself? But on IMdb, I see that he is listed as "assistant: Mr. Anderson" and Paul Thomas Anderson was the Director.
  
• "This motion picture was carbon neutral" [Which is quite an accomplishment given that they had an oil well fire and some cool explosions. On the other hand, Industrial Light and Magic had lots of credits, so maybe that was all animation. Still, I had to wonder, if ILM was involved, why couldn't they make it look like the wheels on the old cars were rolling forward instead of backward?
  

All About Bob