Another day, another heat/humidity/smog/death warning. Seriously, it’s so bad that we can’t even bear to be in the apartment unless the a/c is on at least medium, and even then we’re sweating like pigs. Fortunately the office is like a meat locker.

Yeesh…in four days we’ll be back on a plane, headed for the family farm. I think I’ve seen just about enough of airports and exit rows lately.

Stupid Air Canada cancelled our flight and moved us to a later flight too, meaning we won’t arrive at the farm until 2AM. I called yesterday to tell them that we want to be put on an earlier flight, but after half an hour on hold I just gave up.

Despite the rough-sounding title, Martha Wainwright‘s “Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole” is one of the most captivating songs I’ve heard in a while. It’s like an softer version of Sleater-Kinney‘s “Turn It On”, in that I can’t figure out if it’s meant to be a love song or a giant fuck-you.

And really, that’s what makes it good.

Man, why didn’t I watch The Animatrix (imdb | rotten tomatoes) sooner? It’s got all kinds of useful information about things leading into the second Matrix film, and the animation is pretty impressive. The last few (it’s nine different vignettes, for those of you who haven’t seen it) I didn’t care for too much, but it’s worth watching, especially if you want the backstory about the war and some pieces of information that are referenced in Reloaded.

Seriously, why does The Learning Channel even call itself that anymore? Why not just Home Renovation Central or something?

And while we’re on the topic, why doesn’t The Life Network just rename itself The Wedding & Baby channel? Ooh, and Showcase could just rename itself HBO & pr0n…

I finished my assignment this morning, so I’ve been spending a couple of hours going through and uploading some of the pictures from our trip to flickr. They’re here if you want to have a look.

We finally got around to watching some of the stored-up Zip movies last night. Last night it was Birth (imdb | rotten tomatoes), that Nicole Kidman film that came out last year and then quietly disappeared. Given the majority of ratings, I can see why it slipped silently away so that more crowd-friendly Kidman vehicles like the lingering Stepford Wives could be promoted, but I liked it. It was creepy and stark. Icy.

In the end I didn’t get any feeling of passion or heart from it, no real inspiration or loss. I think they had breathing room between where it ended up and where it might have become a cliche, but they didn’t venture there.

Too bad. I’d liked to have seen what it was like.

Sweet. It appears that the film festival processing centre (i.e., the place we all line up to find out if we got our movies) has moved out of the grotto at College Park and into Cumberland Terrace, conveniently located in the middle of our neighbourhood.

The gods are smiling upon us.

I’m melting.

We picked up food from St. Lawrence Market and All The Best today. Even though we took the subway for most of the journey, and we did it all between 8:30 and 10:00, we were still sweating like pigs by the time we got home. It’s already 26, but 35 with the humidex. Gah.

I can’t even imagine living in our old place on Spadina, in the top floor of an old house. Our landlord bought us an air conditioner, but there’s just no way it could keep up this summer. I pity whoever lives there now.

The Spoon song “I Turn My Camera On” makes my baby dance.