Patriarchal Magazine Titles, Schmoozing and Starting Fires

I got to attend this magazine launch today where I sipped punch, ate hors d'oeuvres, posed for pictures and mingled with the media. Rex is a magazine focusing on our city's business edge, featuring stories about everyone from American entrepreneur Eric Lynes of Biltmore, who is resurrecting the full-brim 50's hats of the most fashionable haberdashers to major suppliers, think tanks like CIGI, venture capitalists, technical mavericks and heavy hitters like Linamar, who is the guts of our local car industry.

I saw one of my fellow students who is also on coop with the local media, The Record, who owns the magazine. She was swelling with pregnancy and had that wonderful glow that comes to women within their nine months. It shocked me and reminded me how long it's been since we saw each other last, since we've been away from school, since our placements started, since the strike started, since life took off at a break-neck speed.

When I got home today I had a forward in my account, a video of Evegeni Plushenko
I wanted to send it to a few people, but as it turned out, I sent it to EVERYONE on my list, including people I haven't talked to in years, people like old bosses who I hope will not be upset or outraged to see a figure skater in the buck (almost).

As a success story of how keeping busy makes people have hilarious adventures in life, I have to quote a part of an email my friend sent me, notifying me that she is moving away soon and also telling about her chaotic schedule and the superstitious conspiracy of machines:

"...And second/last (in the name of brief), I am in my last week of
working at the X (a series of fireworks were just shot off by
a rally of cheerleaders behind me... if only these breathtaking
effects could transcribe via the interweb. Let down again...)
Yep, and on my last Saturday night shift EVER, the grill felt like
celebrating. And then we had a fire. Yep. A f*cking fire. The blaze
itself was minimal. The cleanup, however, was legendary. Four people,
working four hours past the time we meant to leave. That's 16 hours of
needless, steel wool grated scrubbing. Mother.

But I am not telling you this tale to gain your sympahty. Rather, I
tell it with great concern. See, after the fire was contained, we
good-humoured kitchen folk turned up the music and got down to
cleaning business. The music we selected to keep was going was
provided by my sweet, innocent, pink ipod mini, set to shuffle mode.
And in its wit, ipod selected from that point on- from some 1100 songs
the following tracks : M.I.A. : Fire Fire, Talking Heads : Burning
Down the House, Franz Ferdinand : Fire.... I would continue, but I
suspect where you see this is going... My people, I warn you, the ipods are up to something... So sleep with one eye open. And know that the next time you're listening to your ipod and Disco Inferno comes on, check the toaster." -Kitten

She is such a wit!

Well, anyway, now I must go and prepare an overall plan for my weekend. There will be a concert, a spring fashion show, a business call, and a photo opp to aid my friend in a portfolio for her photography business. It will fly by I'm sure, but I figure I might as well get a head start on things, if the only carnivorous beast that is going to swallow me whole is time.

Have a good weekend!

Filed in personal diegesis