The Most Interesting Person in the World

Archive for February 2010

  • Nanotechnology. Need I say more?
  • I saw Terminator 2 at a young age.
  • Artificial intelligence.
  • Most scarily: technology that can reproduce itself.
  • People are too reliant on it.
  • People don’t communicate with each other enough without it.
  • It is smarter than us.
  • Faster.
  • Stronger.
  • It can do more.
  • It can outphase us humans.
  • What is there that we can do, that technology can’t do, that is objectively and arguably a good thing?
  • It advances at such a quick pace that I can’t even catch up.
  • The world was better before things like twitter.
  • It is so annoying to have a conversation interrupted by a cell phone, yet I can’t stop doing it.
  • The machines will eat your brains.
  • I like that it’s in Canada.
  • I feel uncomfortable by its massive size.
  • I’m a fan of our public transportation.
  • I’m not a fan of the regularly rising price of public transportation.
  • It’s cool how much film and tv is created here.
  • It’s lame how often Toronto has to “act” like some other city.
  • Why don’t we have enough culture uniquely our own?
  • Why do Torontonians care more about Hollywood cultures and celebrity obsession than locally created art?
  • Too many money-oriented, old-school uptight people who DO NOT LIKE CHANGE. (ex. some weird artsy girl trying to impose her standards on their boring worlds.)
  • Lots and lots of cool people. (I’m sorry for my kvetching; if you’re reading this, I probably love you.)
  • Sooo many diverse neighbourhoods, it’s awesome.
  • Not enough connectedness between the hundreds of different cultures, languages and neighbourhoods.
  • Could use more Lauren.

Lists

Posted on: February 19, 2010

Lists I want to write

Weird Feelings About Toronto
Plans for my next birthday party
Why I’m afraid of Technology
Rules of Polite Society
Why I’m Awesome
Other Lists I Should Write
Things I Love
Things that are Weaksauce (like above list-title)
Why I Still Say Weaksauce
Things that Make Me Comfortable/Uncomfortable
Why I Don’t Want to be Religious
Why I Want to be Religious

Which list should I write in my next post?

You don’t think it’s so important, but it is. If this gourd had wings, it would say, “What am I doing here?”

I don’t belong here. It is Toronto’s 175th birthday and I smell smoke. “Can’t you see the light?” she asks me on a Friday afternoon.

I am just the vessel.

Faded words on a faded blackboard, back, front, like waves of an oil spill.

It’s all in how you project it.

She asks me what I’m feeling and my glove slips away. “It wasn’t even on my hand!” I yell to the cold, dark night.

Hello. How are you? Am I the one you’re looking for?

The nights have dreams.

Hello loyal readers! (I’m sure I have one or two.)

What a wonderful Family Day weekend it’s been. I had three improv parties back-to-back – birthday party, bridal shower, and singles event – followed immediately by a troupe rehearsal. That’s almost living the dream for me. Living the dream would be having that many parties every day. This Thursday’s workshop is promising to be awesome, with all the enthusiastic, improv-loving people slated to attend. And hopefully I’ll see you there.

But now onto the reason you’re reading this (I presume). You want that cool item pictured. Its two main purposes are to make a clacking sound, and some kind of massage, but I’m sure its recipient will think of other uses as well.

To win this, you must answer a skill-testing question: What do 2 and 3 have in common that they don’t share with 1? (Hint: While there is a “right” answer, defined by it being the one I’m thinking, I will also accept the most creative answer. And yes, your response may involve sock puppets.)

Back in the 70s, we ran this town. There wasn’t a road sign that didn’t have our signature on it. Under every “One Way” sign was a friendly reminder to play your music backwards. Above every “Speed Limit” was the word “Suggested”. Even the Town Clock was emblazoned with “Time to Rock!!!”

And everybody knew our names. There was Blinko, Tommy, Dorskin. Jazzman, Redney, Tohmas. Lots of us. Collectively, we were known as “Frangipani”. The police were scared of us, because they hadn’t invented anti-spray paint yet. Veterans and protestors alike recognized us as the force to be reckoned with. Even my grandmother couldn’t lecture us.

We had a glorious past. A long trip it’s been, right up to the AGO exhibit on us now. Still, I would trade it all for a moist cranberry-and-tuna salad sandwich on ciabatta bread. Or a package of William Goldman’s cough drops.

This always happens. Every time I go to use the urinal, it’s clogged. Why does fate keep messing with me like this? Is Marcel Duchamp laughing at me right now? Is this punishment for trying to find a urinal in the women’s washroom? Why, heavens, why?

I can’t understand what they’re saying, so I won’t translate it here. But I think they’re holding hands. They’re finally getting along. After years of warring over who’s black and who’s white, they can put their differences on the tops of their heads and just move on. Peace at last.

Time to exterminate.


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