day two

still bitchy. mind you, to quote a co-worker, i'm positively effervescent compared to yesterday...

had a loverly chat with the half-corked New Boy last night... we are going on a quest for loons one of these weekends... since we both grew up in the north, part of what we remember most about summers as kids is being out at the lake listening to loons cry all night long... just the thought of it makes me homesick.

bleh. cheer up sundae.

all aboard the ss grumpasaurus

ever have one of those days when absolutely everybody grates on your nerves? like for the smallest, stupidest things? and even though you acknowledge the fact that you are an irrational grump, but somehow, it's really everybody else's fault?

i'm having one of those days.

top ten

... strangest places to be sunburned.

10 - top of the feet
9 - behind the ear
8 - hair's partline
7 - armpit
6 - behind the knees
5 - inner thigh
4 - bottoms of the feet
3 - eyelids
2 - under the chin
1 - inside your belly button

guess which ones i managed to accomplish this weekend?

touch the heaven

ok i found heaven. it's a hammock in a backyard in victoria, clothed only by 30degree sunshine and a bikini, good novel beside me, beer cooler within arm's reach and the most perfect view of half naked cute boys doing manual labour. i didn't ever want to wake up.....

happy birthday ralph waldo

"I hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency. Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward... Let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times, and hurl in the face of custom, and trade, and office, the fact which is the upshot of all history that there is a great responsible thinker and actor moving wherever moves a man."

or woman, i would add.

thank god for maktaaq. without her i'd figure i was talking to myself out here.... well,, actually, i am. but i never really listen to myself....

baby you can call me al

went to mark farina last night with the divine ms. u... ran into the everylovely swizzalish and her crew of fun kids... i spent every single everloving moment of both dj heather's and mark farina's sets front and centre on the floor, hands up loving every single bass pulsing moment. the two of us crawled into bed with The New Boy round about five am... he was the luckiest kid on the block for sure, except that he couldn't lie between us 'cause we "vibratEd with EnErgy" and it was a little too much for him... (mind you the two of us together are probably a little much for anyone...)

i started off in a boy's tshirt and a thong.. after about an hour he reached down and said "baby i NEED you to take this off" and pulled the shirt up over my head. he tugged at my panties sort of wistfully, prompting ms. u to sleepily remind us of our "company manners"... this morning he said "why can't i wake up everyday to have bras all over my floor and two girls in my bed?" why, indeed....

geyser

i'm bubbling over with a nervous anxiety for which there is no real source. ran away to mike b - curled up in his arms and tried to talk talk talk it away but to no avail. i simply poured food over it in the hopes that i could pack it down, pack it down.

i looked at you across the table last night - i looked at you and thought to myself this could be somebody. you could be somebody. (of course you're somebody, why wouldn't you be? you are somebody with a past and a present and a future and my place in those places is.. ephemeral at best. you're somebody and i'm somebody and the real question is can we be somebody together?)

you see, i'm very empathetic. i can pick up on people's moods like a divining rod zeros in on butterfly tears. but i don't know how, you see, i've never been taught what to do with that information - how to detach your feelings from my feelings and realize that sometimes people shine dark purple for reasons that are their own and have nothing to do with me. ("can i tell you the secret of life?" she asked... "of course". "it's not all about you")

so this morning i came home and got in the shower and started to think - my brain started running down that same old trail thinking about how i only really like the ones that are no good and so what does that say about you when i like you this much? then it got all tangled up in my head and my heart started to pound and hands shaking and breathing shallow and i ran to mike to calm me down, talk me down.

- "can you tell me why you like him?"
- "no.. i just do. i just feel very comfortable when i'm with him. it just feels right. and he makes me laugh".
- "maybe if you don't know then you don't really."
- "maybe. i just don't know what to do."
- "maybe you don't have to do anything at all."

mmmmmmvodka

Vodka


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from maktaaq

I will be crushed by a giant duck!



How will you die? Take the Exotic Cause of Death Test

hmph.

so my crazy exboyfriend checked in today for his 'every couple of months' call. he can't get past my high-tech security system (i.e. the kiddo), so i haven't actually spoken to him in over a year.

today when he called, the kiddo finally had enough - he was all set to give him a piece of his mind, when my dad also picked up the phone. so the kiddo hung up. i noticed that, on a little yellow sticky note on the upstairs counter, there is a phone number. so i'm trying to avoid it. my world is a better place without him in it, but still i feel the call of the phone number....

random confession #608

dear indie band bass player.

you know who you are, writhing on the stage in your acid wash denim vest. how i long to clasp the zipper tab and slowly slowly ease it away from its nesting place right under your chin, silkily revealing your complimentary tshirt from the etobicoke corporate challenge memorial ball tournament (circa 1987).

i see you there, flipping your straw yellow mowhawk with youthful arrogance and know you sense the connection between us. sure you've been drinking stella sort of constantly since you hit the stage, and, in actual fact, had to play several songs lying on your back with your bass cradled against your belly because you were weaving too dramatically to keep up with the rest of the rhythm section. sure your proclivity for absent-mindedly spitting on the guy standing directly in front of is a little off-putting. sure you quit school to go on the road at 16 and haven't looked back, counting on your older, wiser lead vocalist mentor to come up with the deep and brooding lyrics that make the chicks wild. i'm ok with all of that. i'm really ok.

you can tell that i'm not like the other girls. i decided to leave my cardigan at home, tonight, and opted for a plain tshirt that doesn't advertise a band - yours or any other. i don't buy into the usual hipster scene, and i can tell that you yearn to be free of it as well.

together we'll make our own scene. we'll rent a studio loft-esque basement suite just off main street and cruise the thrift shops looking for vintage vinyl and eclectic furnishings. we'll host festive social gatherings at which the cream of the cutting edge urban underground music scene gather to inspire us and each other. we'll get a dog which we'll take with us everywhere, and eventually have a baby to clothe in ironicaly captioned tshirts which proclaim our coolness as parents. eventually, you'll quit the band and go on to manage a record store, or a used book store, or maybe even a coffee shop. you won't mind that i make 20 or 30 thousand a year more than you do, and neither do i 'cause really, really, our love for each other is what it's all about.

so, mr. indie band bass player, when you leave the stage tonight and wander through the crowd checking out the girls in their cardigans and weezer tshirts, look back - back here by the sound booth. i'll be waiting.

love, raspberry sundae.

i forgot what i was supposed to say

sometimes my head gets the better of me and i get all swirly inside and i can't rescue the reason from the emotion and your words (or lack thereof) hit me like pin pricks of razor wire deep across my midriff.

i just look at you blankly and try to detach disconnect free myself from the hazy sweeping in from the marshland of memory and dream. i forget who i am, just for a minute. forget that i'm above all this and you can't reach me here. you can probably see the shutters in my eyes closing like a steel apron drawn down on a shop window at the end of the trading day, but do you realize that they are all for you?

holy grail

for me, the holy grail of summer wear is not the bikini. pish posh i say to the bikini. i have one of those. besides - you can buy them in two pieces, so the fact that i have hips built for a boy but boobs built for two can be accomodated.

no, each summer i go on a quest for the perfect white t-shirt. you know the one - soft and worn like the one you used to steal from your boyfriends drawer.. it cupped your breasts with mermaid fingers and slid across your belly, but never clung no never clung. it's the kind of tshirt that men pray to catch you washing the car in - thin like cirrus clouds dancing in the summer sky. i didn't find one at all last year - i usually start about this time of year and then search frantically for a while and eventually give up. if i haven't found one by mid-july when the fall clothes hit the shelves i forlornly hang up my flip flops. i always figured that if i did find one, i'd buy about four so that i could have a summer of respite for the next year or so.

i started this year's search kind of abstractly last weekend - i sort of ruffled the merchandise at a few locations, not really intending to buy (good thing 'cause i didn't see much). i began my quest in earnest on wednesday. i think that, since then, i've tried on probably 15 different white tshirts.

then, today, i found it. the perfect white tshirt. it's not too long, not too short. it is made out of the thinnest, softest cotton i've felt in, well, forever. it is scooped low to show off the collarbones, and hugs my girls like a lover.

so what's the downside, raspb'y? well dammit, this thing costs $60. that's right, SIXTY dollars. for a white tshirt. huh. the shitty thing is that, unless i can find one today or tomorrow, i'm going back to buy it sunday. somebody help me.

the chad

so over at padlock's house he's playing an "imitate all the folks in the blogroll" game. i'm curious to see if the chad will attempt a 'raspberry whining about men', a 'raspberry got laid', a 'lit-geek raspberry' or a 'proud mama' raspberry. personally i'm rootin' for the 'raspberry got laid'. i'm dying to see his interpretation....

*blush*

"the cool thing about you is that you are a total geek... but you are so fucking *HOT*!"

rob gordon

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody that belongs to a guy i used to fuck, making mixed cds to listen to this summer when i drive too fast down the highway, weaving in and out of sunshowers and big rigs, sipping mountain dew slurpees and eating corn dogs.

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody that used to belong to a guy i fuck, listening to dave grohl pound the drums and wondering if anything could ever feel this real forever - if anything could ever be this good again.

i'm sitting here wearing a hoody wishing i were running running running in the rain, feet slapping hard pavement, mud splashing up my ankles, headphones pounding in my ears, listening to mixed cds i made while thinking about a guy who fucked me and drove too fast down the highway, weaving in and out of rainstorms and sunshine, eating corn dogs and sipping mountain dew slurpees.

mom's day

happy mom's day, everybody...

normally i bypass the cheezy comic strips and go straight to garfield, but today something enticed me to linger at 'cathy'. the little one-liner at the end sort of caught my eye: "a good mom trys to make sure her kids get home safe. a *great* mom trys to make sure that *everyone's* kids get home safe". i'll buy that.

family's a funny thing, huh? yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of the death of one of my second cousin's - one who i think that i met maybe once, if that. my dad was pretty close to him growing up, 'cause they were the same age. so i ventured off with my dad to get together with a branch of my family that i see maybe once every three years. they live so close to me, so close to me, but we have such little contact with them. and this is not normal in irish families - usually we're a close knit bunch. loyalty to your family is first and foremost. all i can think is that it has something to do with the fact that my dad's family was always fairly moderate, politically, while his cousin's family was a lot more... emphatic.

regardless - seeing the aunties and cousins and it feels like three days have passed, not three years. it's just this giant boiling vat of family and laughter and caring and petty arguments and grumbling and you just seem to slide into your place without missing a beat.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

in other news.. i've spent two nights in a row with The New Boy. am i still freaking out? hella yes. i have no idea with i'm doing. seriously. i'm so afraid that i'm going to start *really* liking this one (this is where we throw down the bullshit flag and point out that i ALREADY really like this one) and he's going to disappear like all the rest. he's not an asshole, but he's not (historically) been known for his ... how shall i put it ... constancy. the other night we were out and he said to me that under normal circumstances, he'd be out "whoring around" (his words, not mine). but he's not, and he's happy that he's not. bit of a double edged blade, i figure - he's reminding me of his tendency to be a bit of a manslut, but telling me that he's happy just being with me. erp.

but anyway... i'm just doing the wait and see thing. he's gone away for work for 10 days - i guess we'll see what happens after that, huh?

googlism

googlism is the brainchild of the oddchild

raspberry is glowing and beautiful and bright
raspberry is a real sweetie
raspberry is a bundle of little drupelets
raspberry is so popular
raspberry is a good uterine toner
raspberry is important in bc and world
raspberry is a laugh out loud comedy that takes place on a ship
raspberry is my favorite kind of tea
raspberry is one
raspberry is a pulitzer prize
raspberry is very seedy and is best juiced by pressing through a cloth to filter out the seeds
raspberry is one of the most widely used herbs for women
raspberry is the one who needs to get a grip
raspberry is largely grown for its fruit and grows wild in some parts of great britain
raspberry is selling like hotcakes
raspberry is said to be good for common female problems
raspberry is very susceptible
raspberry is joined by her attendants and other contestants
raspberry is among but a handful of journalists
raspberry is a reduced dairy alternative
raspberry is usually not a sufficient treatment for diarrhoea
raspberry is most popular in ohio
raspberry is red
raspberry is believed to be native to europe
raspberry is the knight professor of the practice of communications and journalism

sidebar

i noticed on the sidebar there that i had a couple of hits from someone looking for the search term 'body sundae'.

now there's a mental picture to get you through a monday, huh? (yes i know that today is thursday. i'm going to nurture and cherish that image from now till monday, and possibly in perpetuity.)

anyhoo - what exactly would comprise *your* body sunday? like would it be made up of three (or four, even) layers of bodies in varying colours, chosen to simulate ice creamy goodness? or would you simply apply sweet condiment goodness to your partner and eat your way to the bottom of the bowl? i'd like a combination of the two, please - i mean, for purely artistic sake. there are ice-creamy colours that can't possibly be replicated just through skin tones. plus - i really like chocolate.

so, my body sundae would be a boy layer, a girl layer, some whipping cream, fresh raspberries (natch), and a whole lot of chocolate sauce...

(mind you, if you (being the body sundae search and rescue crew) were looking for a *bawdy* sundae, you've found her. just check back a few posts - i think you'll be entertained.)

weekend update

less witty than dennis miller, but moreso than jimmy fallon...

ok kids the quick and dirty:

thursday was U2. essentially, it's like going to see an andrew lloyd webber musical starring the members of U2 featuring the music of U2. i was trying to figure out which i enjoyed more - this night or velvet revolver and realized that i couldn't compare. going to see velvet revolver was going to a rock concert. going to see U2 was going to experience what an unlimited live performance budget can buy you. did i enjoy it? of *course* i did - how could you not? the crowed behaved exactly the way they were supposed to. we sang along, we clapped on cue, and the band gave up wonderful performances. but it wasn't very ... real.

now contrast this to friday night - the constantines and the weakerthans at dicks. old fashioned indie rock at its best. i'm not so much a fan of the weakerthans, but man oh man i heart the constantines. what is it about indie band bass players that makes my heart go pit-a-pat? dallas, if you are reading this, i love you. i love your floppy straw blonde mohawk. i love the way that you were so loaded you lay down with your bass on your belly and played that way for the length of an entire song. i love your tight acid wash denim vest, zipped up to your chin. i heart you, dallas. call me...

saturday i did some consignment store shopping, cooked dinner for the kiddo and The New Boy, and went to see Kung Fu Hustle... sunday the kiddo and i went downtown for greasy burgers (him beefy-greasy me turkey-greasy), did some more shopping, then i napped on the deck for the afternoon.... a lovely evening, all in all....

not very inspired, i know.. but really it was more fun than i've made it out to be.