Saturday, 29 September 2012

in which Tessa and her mom kick some ass; strip some screws

Although I am neither twelve years old nor a first-year university student, I recently decided to downgrade to a twin bed. Paul has a pillow-top mattress and I guess he's cute enough, so I haven't actually slept at home since June. Meanwhile, my double bed takes up a lot of valuable bedroom real estate for something that isn't even being used. Thus, in the interest of finally having enough space for two dressers and two bookshelves, my long-suffering mom and I trekked over to IKEA last week; today, we built a Brimnes.

HOW TO BUILD YOUR BRAND-NEW IKEA BED

What could possibly go wrong?!
  1. Print off 32-page instruction booklet.
  2. Open boxes.
  3. Build outer shell of bed frame.
  4. Congratulate selves on ability to understand wordless IKEA diagram despite neither of you having the requisite penis and testicles.
  5. Having completed the frame, begin to construct drawers.
  6. Use screw number 100372 to attach metal track to drawer case.
  7. Express surprise at unwillingness of screw number 100372 to move easily into its new home.
  8. Push down on screwdriver with increased pressure.
  9. Experience shoulder pain. Realize there are another ten screws to go.
  10. Also realize that you are stripping the screws.
  11. Wonder if boyfriend has electric screwdriver? Call boyfriend.
  12. Boyfriend asks if you are using a Phillips-head screwdriver to put in your IKEA screws. You obviously are. 
  13. Boyfriend, with weird, preternatural, ostensibly penis-stemming knowledge explains that this is a common mistake made by IKEA customers while they build their shitty IKEA furniture. Learn that IKEA generally provides screws with unusual Pozidriv head which unfortunately looks almost exactly like a Phillips-head.
  14. Watch as boyfriend pries screws out of bed frame with a pair of pliers.
  15. Send boyfriend home. Use newly loaned Pozidriv screwdriver to put in more screws.
  16. Strip the hell out of these screws, too.
  17. Throw hands up in air.
  18. Send loved one to IKEA store to find extra 100372 and 102138 screws.
  19. Learn that IKEA doesn't actually have any extra 100372 screws in their giant effing magical giant new giant IKEA, but will order some that should arrive in five to ten business days.
  20. Enjoy your new bed!
Much like the last 93 nights, I will be sleeping at Paul's tonight.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

Téléfrançais fantastique!

After (perhaps rashly and unwisely) quitting my job as a telesurveyist, I am now taking library and information technician classes at Algonquin. I'm having mixed feelings about this program so far and I'm sure I'll write about it in potentially career-limiting detail later (ideally once I figure out how to get my full name off of my Google account), but for now, the important part is that I'm taking a French class.

I took core French up until grade ten and have not used any of it for the last eight years, so it's pretty rusty. Rusty to the extent that yesterday while doing an activity on futur proche, I wrote a whole paragraph about what I am going to do demain thinking that demain meant today. Needless to say, I do not have class on Saturday and my whole paragraph was fundamentally flawed/full of lies.

When I mentioned to Paul that a classmate had suggested watching children's shows for French practice because 1.) they use basic vocabulary and 2.) they repeat everything until your ears bleed, he drew my attention to Téléfrançais, which I've heard of before but don't personally remember. After watching a few episodes, though, it's pretty much my new favourite thing.


For those who were, like me, robbed of this beautiful childhood experience, the premise of Téléfrançais is that there is this wide-eyed and somewhat aggressive pineapple who lives in a junkyard and speaks French. Neighborhood children Jacques and Sophie have parents who clearly do not love them or care about their welfare and thus these kids spend all of their time hanging out with the talking pineapple, occasionally leaving the junkyard to have age-appropriate adventures such as skydiving, foraying into the forest alone, etc. They also spend a lot of time having circular discussions about whether or not things are possible. Sample dialogue:

Jacques: Et tu parles? Ce n'est pas possible!
L'ananas: Oui, c'est possible.
Jacques: Non! Ce n'est pas possible!
L'ananas: [angrily wielding cane] Oui, c'est possible!

Téléfrançais is basically what would happen if Tommy Wiseau and TVOntario ever had a baby. And if all of this hasn't already sold you, you should probably know what the ananas looks like:

Paul changed my iPhone background to this picture the other day when I wasn't looking.
I've been asking around and people in my age group seem to either have super vivid memories of this show or have no recollection whatsoever. I asked my mom if she remembered my watching this as a kid; she responded with complete certainty that there was no way in hell I ever saw it because she would remember my subsequent nightmares. While this may have been the case at age four, it's twenty years later and I'm pretty sure this pineapple is going to change my life for the better.