lundi, février 28
dimanche, février 27
easy like sundae morning
so yesterday i had a 'girls' day with my mom and my sister... we did lunch at ouisi bistro and did some window shopping on upper granville. i picked up a GREAT pair of kenneth cole mary janes with pink trim and a bit of a heel. QUITE lovely, i must say. it was a really nice day - the sun was out and it was pretty warm, when you stayed out of the wind.
before i went, though, i had an interesting conversation with a friend. she had a bit too much to drink one evening last week, and admitted to her boyfriend that she loved him. he responded very honestly - he told her that he wasn't ready to say that, which is a perfectly respectable answer, as they've been seeing each other for only a few months.
my friend was freaking out a bit, worried that she may have done a very bad thing. i didn't think so - i figure that if you are feeling something you should try and be honest about it with the people you care about. but it had me thinking a bit yesterday - when is the right time? i know that it's different in every situation, but generally, how do you know when it's ok to drop the L word? (not that L word you dirty media whores). i make it a personal policy to never say it first. ya maybe that's a bit of game playing, but it's just the way i am. i'm not so trusting with my heart, you know?
and i know that, when you spend a lot of amazing time with someone, you can feel it within a couple of months. but is that too soon to say it?
before i went, though, i had an interesting conversation with a friend. she had a bit too much to drink one evening last week, and admitted to her boyfriend that she loved him. he responded very honestly - he told her that he wasn't ready to say that, which is a perfectly respectable answer, as they've been seeing each other for only a few months.
my friend was freaking out a bit, worried that she may have done a very bad thing. i didn't think so - i figure that if you are feeling something you should try and be honest about it with the people you care about. but it had me thinking a bit yesterday - when is the right time? i know that it's different in every situation, but generally, how do you know when it's ok to drop the L word? (not that L word you dirty media whores). i make it a personal policy to never say it first. ya maybe that's a bit of game playing, but it's just the way i am. i'm not so trusting with my heart, you know?
and i know that, when you spend a lot of amazing time with someone, you can feel it within a couple of months. but is that too soon to say it?
samedi, février 26
are you my type?
ENFP - The Champion
Your Type is 60% Extroverted, 0% Observant, 0% Logical and 18% Structured
Your type is known as the Champion type, which is part of the larger group called idealists. Nothing occurs that does not have some deep and ethical significance in your eyes. You see life as an exciting drama. You are very charismatic, yet tend to be too harsh on yourself for not being as genuine as you think you should be. 3% of the population shares your type.
As a romantic partner, you need to talk about what is going on in your life. You are a strong supporter for your partner's efforts to grow and change and be happy. You need to feel that same support from your partner. Expressive, optimistic, and curious, you are eager to enjoy new experiences with your partner, whom you wish to be your confidant and soul mate, as well as play mate. You are uncomfortable sharing negative emotion, though, and tend to withdraw from confrontation and process your feelings privately. You feel most loved when your partner appreciates your creativity, accepts your uniqueness, and sees you as the compassionate person you are. You need to hear your partner tell you how much you mean to them and would love if they did thoughtful spontaneous things to demonstrate it.
IDEALIST NFs, being ABSTRACT in communicating and COOPERATIVE in implementing goals, can become highly skilled in DIPLOMATIC INTEGRATION. Thus their most practiced and developed intelligent operations are usually teaching and counseling (NFJ mentoring), or conferring and tutoring (NFP advocating). And they would if they could be sages in one of these forms of social development. The Idealist temperament have an instinct for interpersonal integration, learn ethics with ever increasing zeal, sometimes become diplomatic leaders, and often speak interpretively and metaphorically of the abstract world of their imagination.
They are proud of themselves in the degree they are empathic in action, respect themselves in the degree they are benevolent, and feel confident of themselves in the degree they are authentic. Idealist types search for their unique identity, hunger for deep and meaningful relationships, wish for a little romance each day, trust their intuitive feelings implicitly, aspire for profundity. This is the "Identity Seeking Personality" -- credulous about the future, mystical about the past, and their preferred time and place are the future and the pathway. Educationally they go for the humanities, avocationally for ethics, and vocationally for personnel work.
Social relationships: In their family interactions they strive for mutuality, provide spiritual intimacy for the mates, opportunity for fantasy for their children, and for themselves continuous self-renewal. Idealists do not abound, being as few as 8% and nor more than 10% of the population.
take the test
Your Type is 60% Extroverted, 0% Observant, 0% Logical and 18% Structured
Your type is known as the Champion type, which is part of the larger group called idealists. Nothing occurs that does not have some deep and ethical significance in your eyes. You see life as an exciting drama. You are very charismatic, yet tend to be too harsh on yourself for not being as genuine as you think you should be. 3% of the population shares your type.
As a romantic partner, you need to talk about what is going on in your life. You are a strong supporter for your partner's efforts to grow and change and be happy. You need to feel that same support from your partner. Expressive, optimistic, and curious, you are eager to enjoy new experiences with your partner, whom you wish to be your confidant and soul mate, as well as play mate. You are uncomfortable sharing negative emotion, though, and tend to withdraw from confrontation and process your feelings privately. You feel most loved when your partner appreciates your creativity, accepts your uniqueness, and sees you as the compassionate person you are. You need to hear your partner tell you how much you mean to them and would love if they did thoughtful spontaneous things to demonstrate it.
IDEALIST NFs, being ABSTRACT in communicating and COOPERATIVE in implementing goals, can become highly skilled in DIPLOMATIC INTEGRATION. Thus their most practiced and developed intelligent operations are usually teaching and counseling (NFJ mentoring), or conferring and tutoring (NFP advocating). And they would if they could be sages in one of these forms of social development. The Idealist temperament have an instinct for interpersonal integration, learn ethics with ever increasing zeal, sometimes become diplomatic leaders, and often speak interpretively and metaphorically of the abstract world of their imagination.
They are proud of themselves in the degree they are empathic in action, respect themselves in the degree they are benevolent, and feel confident of themselves in the degree they are authentic. Idealist types search for their unique identity, hunger for deep and meaningful relationships, wish for a little romance each day, trust their intuitive feelings implicitly, aspire for profundity. This is the "Identity Seeking Personality" -- credulous about the future, mystical about the past, and their preferred time and place are the future and the pathway. Educationally they go for the humanities, avocationally for ethics, and vocationally for personnel work.
Social relationships: In their family interactions they strive for mutuality, provide spiritual intimacy for the mates, opportunity for fantasy for their children, and for themselves continuous self-renewal. Idealists do not abound, being as few as 8% and nor more than 10% of the population.
take the test
random confession #632
i squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube. i can't help myself - i just like the way it feels.
jeudi, février 24
suckerpunch
falling in love is messed up. or, rather, getting over being in love with someone is messed up. maybe it's easier when you don't have to see the person pretty much every day, and interact with them fairly closely a few times a week. but doing it this way is a wonderkiller* for sure.
most days mr m doesn't even blip my radar. i see him and it's no big deal. unless i see him, i don't think about him. which is the way i like it, really. i'd like to get through my days and not think about him, period.
then there are days like today when i notice that he's got a new wedding ring. i commented on the fact that i noticed and asked if he got a new wife, too. he said no, to my disappointment. frankly i'd have more respect for him if he had, but that's beside the point. it's kind of like being suckerpunched to the gut - all the bad feelings come rushing back and i'm struggling to maintain a professional demeanour. i finished our meeting, left him with some action items, and went and sat on the rock outside to collected my emotions and put my mask back on.
then, then, (and these are the days i like the best) there are moments when i'm standing on the edge of a mosh pit, surrounded by thrashing sweaty testosterone driven male bodies pushing and pounding against each other, thanking all the gods that we didn't end up together, cause i guarantee that i would be nowhere near that exact spot if we'd ended up together. see, he hated it when i went out - he was jealous and suspicious and eventually (cause i'm that kind of person) i would have just stopped going doing it 'cause *i* hate to upset the people i care about. eventually the fun part of me would be curled up into a little ball in my belly and i wouldn't even know who i was anymore - i wouldn't even like myself anymore - i wouldn't even *be* myself anymore.
but today i feel like i got suckerpunched in the stomach. the only person who's *ever* told me they wanted to marry me and take care of me forever is wearing a new wedding ring like 3 months after the last time he slept with me. so i'm going to go to bed and lie in the dark and NOT cry 'cause i won't give him that satisfaction. no, instead i'm going to close my eyes and remember what it felt like to ride the push and pull of the crowd; to hear the music pounding the walls; to feel the bass against my chest beating beating with my heart, beating my heart back to life. 'cause that's where i belong.
*i stole that term from pamie
most days mr m doesn't even blip my radar. i see him and it's no big deal. unless i see him, i don't think about him. which is the way i like it, really. i'd like to get through my days and not think about him, period.
then there are days like today when i notice that he's got a new wedding ring. i commented on the fact that i noticed and asked if he got a new wife, too. he said no, to my disappointment. frankly i'd have more respect for him if he had, but that's beside the point. it's kind of like being suckerpunched to the gut - all the bad feelings come rushing back and i'm struggling to maintain a professional demeanour. i finished our meeting, left him with some action items, and went and sat on the rock outside to collected my emotions and put my mask back on.
then, then, (and these are the days i like the best) there are moments when i'm standing on the edge of a mosh pit, surrounded by thrashing sweaty testosterone driven male bodies pushing and pounding against each other, thanking all the gods that we didn't end up together, cause i guarantee that i would be nowhere near that exact spot if we'd ended up together. see, he hated it when i went out - he was jealous and suspicious and eventually (cause i'm that kind of person) i would have just stopped going doing it 'cause *i* hate to upset the people i care about. eventually the fun part of me would be curled up into a little ball in my belly and i wouldn't even know who i was anymore - i wouldn't even like myself anymore - i wouldn't even *be* myself anymore.
but today i feel like i got suckerpunched in the stomach. the only person who's *ever* told me they wanted to marry me and take care of me forever is wearing a new wedding ring like 3 months after the last time he slept with me. so i'm going to go to bed and lie in the dark and NOT cry 'cause i won't give him that satisfaction. no, instead i'm going to close my eyes and remember what it felt like to ride the push and pull of the crowd; to hear the music pounding the walls; to feel the bass against my chest beating beating with my heart, beating my heart back to life. 'cause that's where i belong.
*i stole that term from pamie
mercredi, février 23
ok so.
after my blog-o-rama of the weekend (thought i'd never shut up there for a while didn't you?) i regressed into man whore postings. i apologize to all men (*cough* ciavarro) who are offended by the rampant objectification which has occurred in these pages of late. i'd like to promise that it'll never happen again, but that'd be lying. let's face it, goshfukkit, i'm that kind of girl. the only person i can commit to is my hairdresser. seriously. i am, however, no liar, so i won't make those kind of promises.
anyhoo. i think that part of my problem is that i see things i'd like to write about, but i can't quite get them into words. well, i can get them into words but they don't communicate the image i have in my brain onto the page. i can't open my head and make you see through my eyes to experience the heart-shivers that what i am looking at is giving me. and that's really frustrating for me.
yes, i could track down a digital camera, take a photo, and post it. but i don't do that much (well except for the man-candy). i'd rather try and let my words spew forth like verbal diarrhea taking you, and me, on this wild and crazy river-run-ride. a veritable hailstorm of linguistic expression raining down like the shuddering afterquakes of a really good orgasm.
but, see, i can't do it. no matter how hard i try the words on the page can't take you through time to 6.39 this morning, when i had to park my car on the side of the road and look, just look at the way someone had taken a giant chalkbrush and swiped it across the mountains and the sky, blending them together till it was nearly impossible to discern where one ended and the other began. i can't find the words to tell you how amazing the skeleton sillhouettes of the trees looked in stark black relief against that watercolour backdrop, or how the lamp-posts had been so carefully placed between them, shining white white light down, spotlighting the empty street.
so i just have to look at the picture in my mind, and know that it will fade away just as though i'd left it on the dashboard of my car on the hot summer days when i stop to sit in the shade beneath the trees and read my book in the summer sun, read someone else's descriptions of someone else's winter morning.
anyhoo. i think that part of my problem is that i see things i'd like to write about, but i can't quite get them into words. well, i can get them into words but they don't communicate the image i have in my brain onto the page. i can't open my head and make you see through my eyes to experience the heart-shivers that what i am looking at is giving me. and that's really frustrating for me.
yes, i could track down a digital camera, take a photo, and post it. but i don't do that much (well except for the man-candy). i'd rather try and let my words spew forth like verbal diarrhea taking you, and me, on this wild and crazy river-run-ride. a veritable hailstorm of linguistic expression raining down like the shuddering afterquakes of a really good orgasm.
but, see, i can't do it. no matter how hard i try the words on the page can't take you through time to 6.39 this morning, when i had to park my car on the side of the road and look, just look at the way someone had taken a giant chalkbrush and swiped it across the mountains and the sky, blending them together till it was nearly impossible to discern where one ended and the other began. i can't find the words to tell you how amazing the skeleton sillhouettes of the trees looked in stark black relief against that watercolour backdrop, or how the lamp-posts had been so carefully placed between them, shining white white light down, spotlighting the empty street.
so i just have to look at the picture in my mind, and know that it will fade away just as though i'd left it on the dashboard of my car on the hot summer days when i stop to sit in the shade beneath the trees and read my book in the summer sun, read someone else's descriptions of someone else's winter morning.
mardi, février 22
speakin of humpin and bumpin
i actually used my 'real' name, cause variations of 'raspberry' just kept returning pictures of madonna... *shudders*.
lundi, février 21
samedi, février 19
humpin and bumpin
ok i realize this is my third fourth post for today, but i'd really like to point you in the direction of this article. i know that, what with my boy whore photo postings and my internet quiz addiction it's sometimes hard to remember that i have a brain. but i do. no, seriously, i do. stop laughing. seriously.
anyhoo, at the beginning of the article, the author says something which cracked me up to the point at which i had to put my laptop down and wipe the tears from my eyes. he wrote, quoting christoper marlowe:
"Christopher Marlowe describes Leander entering
the orchard of th’ Hesperides,
Whose fruit none rightly can describe but he
That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree.
Which is simply Elizabethan for foreplay. Some Elizabethan lines that translate to “humpin’ and bumpin’ ” follow."
humpin' and bumpin'. shit i'm off again. k i'm done. anyhoo... read the article - it's witty and literate and funny and interesting. all the things that non-fiction should be. and he talks about his pecs and his mediterranean tan. and humpin and bumpin. that's it.
anyhoo, at the beginning of the article, the author says something which cracked me up to the point at which i had to put my laptop down and wipe the tears from my eyes. he wrote, quoting christoper marlowe:
"Christopher Marlowe describes Leander entering
the orchard of th’ Hesperides,
Whose fruit none rightly can describe but he
That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree.
Which is simply Elizabethan for foreplay. Some Elizabethan lines that translate to “humpin’ and bumpin’ ” follow."
humpin' and bumpin'. shit i'm off again. k i'm done. anyhoo... read the article - it's witty and literate and funny and interesting. all the things that non-fiction should be. and he talks about his pecs and his mediterranean tan. and humpin and bumpin. that's it.
on sunny afternoons and the proliferation of the word 'random'
cheez it, it's the fuzz
ok so i decided to go out for lunch today. it's vancouver - it's sunny. i think there's a law about finding a cafe to sit at pretending to read while peering at passers-by through your extra dark dkny sunglasses. or is that just in my world. so i did that, anyway, 'cause goshfukkit* i've got enough trouble without getting in deep with the law. i go to this cafe on main street all the time - liberty - and order the same thing, all the time - sundried tomato hummus panini with a small black bean soup and a coffee - and sat and read my book and watched the passersby. except this time i wasn't so much watching as i was really reading, 'cause i'm indulging in a Charles deLint book. it's a book i've actually already finished, but cDl writes about this town called newford, and the people who live there. and, secretly, i want to live there. i want to be sucked into the book and live in newford and hang out with the characters 'cause i'm pretty sure that it's my perfect world.
(except now, as i'm reading the book, i'm realizing that there is a character/situation that is cribbed so directly from nick hornby's high fidelity that it kind of bothers me. but i'm willing to overlook this, just as i will forgive guy ritchie for making 'swept away' as long as he never lets mags be in another one of his movies.)
ANYhoo... (and this is me making lassooing motions to signify the fact that i am coming back 'round to my original thought) as i was sitting there on main street in vancouver reading about newford it occurred to me that the reason i migrate to areas like main street is 'cause i'm looking for newford, or the closest approximation of it to be found here. and i don't think i'm going to find it in vancouver - people here tend to isolate themselves from the strangers they pass everyday. you can tell 'cause everyone is sitting all by themselves at tables built for two, peering at passersby from behind too-dark dkny sunglasses, rather than plonking themselves down in the empty chair at the nearest table built for two which is occupied already by someone on their own. (i don't recommend sitting down at a table occupied by a couple - jealousy and other mayhem on occasion ensues.) so i'm not going to find newford, but i am going to eat yummy panini and drink good coffee and get some vitamin d. and i think i'm ok with that, as long as cDl keeps writing books.
random
so the second thing that was bouncing around in my brain is the current use of the word random as an adjective to signify anything unexpected or out of the ordinary. it's surely a good word (though without the style and panache of 'goshfukkit'), but i'm a little concerned by the misuse/overuse (i'm thinking back to the 'ironic' debacle of the early alanis days and shuddering here. hold me.). i think that it's time to move on from the expression. but that's also just me - and i'm not the word police, though i am on the payroll as an informer. so watch it - i'm watching you.
i also suggest the retirement of all tshirts and other references that pertain to napoleon dynamite, including vote for pedro tshirts. no i haven't seen it yet. yes, i acknowledge that you have more indie movie cred than i do. no i'm not too dismayed by this. burn the shirt and get over yourself, indie movie snob. yes i said movie rather than film. sue me.
now that was random.
*please note the use of my new favourite swear word. it was invented by maktaaq.
ok so i decided to go out for lunch today. it's vancouver - it's sunny. i think there's a law about finding a cafe to sit at pretending to read while peering at passers-by through your extra dark dkny sunglasses. or is that just in my world. so i did that, anyway, 'cause goshfukkit* i've got enough trouble without getting in deep with the law. i go to this cafe on main street all the time - liberty - and order the same thing, all the time - sundried tomato hummus panini with a small black bean soup and a coffee - and sat and read my book and watched the passersby. except this time i wasn't so much watching as i was really reading, 'cause i'm indulging in a Charles deLint book. it's a book i've actually already finished, but cDl writes about this town called newford, and the people who live there. and, secretly, i want to live there. i want to be sucked into the book and live in newford and hang out with the characters 'cause i'm pretty sure that it's my perfect world.
(except now, as i'm reading the book, i'm realizing that there is a character/situation that is cribbed so directly from nick hornby's high fidelity that it kind of bothers me. but i'm willing to overlook this, just as i will forgive guy ritchie for making 'swept away' as long as he never lets mags be in another one of his movies.)
ANYhoo... (and this is me making lassooing motions to signify the fact that i am coming back 'round to my original thought) as i was sitting there on main street in vancouver reading about newford it occurred to me that the reason i migrate to areas like main street is 'cause i'm looking for newford, or the closest approximation of it to be found here. and i don't think i'm going to find it in vancouver - people here tend to isolate themselves from the strangers they pass everyday. you can tell 'cause everyone is sitting all by themselves at tables built for two, peering at passersby from behind too-dark dkny sunglasses, rather than plonking themselves down in the empty chair at the nearest table built for two which is occupied already by someone on their own. (i don't recommend sitting down at a table occupied by a couple - jealousy and other mayhem on occasion ensues.) so i'm not going to find newford, but i am going to eat yummy panini and drink good coffee and get some vitamin d. and i think i'm ok with that, as long as cDl keeps writing books.
random
so the second thing that was bouncing around in my brain is the current use of the word random as an adjective to signify anything unexpected or out of the ordinary. it's surely a good word (though without the style and panache of 'goshfukkit'), but i'm a little concerned by the misuse/overuse (i'm thinking back to the 'ironic' debacle of the early alanis days and shuddering here. hold me.). i think that it's time to move on from the expression. but that's also just me - and i'm not the word police, though i am on the payroll as an informer. so watch it - i'm watching you.
i also suggest the retirement of all tshirts and other references that pertain to napoleon dynamite, including vote for pedro tshirts. no i haven't seen it yet. yes, i acknowledge that you have more indie movie cred than i do. no i'm not too dismayed by this. burn the shirt and get over yourself, indie movie snob. yes i said movie rather than film. sue me.
now that was random.
*please note the use of my new favourite swear word. it was invented by maktaaq.
thinkin
wild melissa wrote this:
you should read her more often. she's good.
she is comparing her way of cooking to jamie oliver. now, i would not, personally, compare myself to jamie oliver 'cause, quite frankly, i'm a little in awe of the man. i'd like to bear his love children, except i'm not having any more children and the kiddo quite enjoys being an only child (such luxuries allow me to entertain the thought of buying him an ipod shuffler just because, and he knows this. as well, he's quite content knowing that he'll probably get everything on his christmas list 'cause he's the only son/grandson. were there more children he'd have to share and he's not so pleased with that idea.) either way, if jamie oliver came by and asked me to bear his love children i'd have to seriously consider revoking his independent nation status and creating our own little un. actually, better yet, i'd just tell mr. oliver that i'd bear the love children, take the potato mashin, cheeky custard, banged flat chicken lovin' and secretly take anti-childbearing measures. not the best way to begin a relationship but seriously, now, all i'm looking for is a one night confection saturated thrill, not a committment here jamie and don't you think you are getting ahead of yourself a little? we just met. sheesh.
but i digress.
i think i cook more like jamie than like melissa, though i fully embrace the idea of eating crackers and jam with a large glass of wine for dinner. just the other night i had half a peanut butter cookie, two muscle relaxants and a shot of stoli. good times. i didn't share the vodka with the kiddo though. i mean, seriously now, i'll buy him an ipod but stay the fuck away from my stoli i mean it.
ok i just said i wasn't gonna compare myself to jamie, but then he got all uppity about me lying to him regarding children and committent and shit so i'm gonna do it anyway. i cook more the way he does than melissa 'cause i can't detach - i put myself right into cooking and feel it at my core. i believe that you should cook with your hands. fuck spoons - get your fingers in the bowl and feel the mix of the dough. squeeze the little beads of flour and butter and sugar between your fingertips, gently gently, maybe with a little more force. give them a squeeze and a bit of a tug - fire the elements together with the heat of your touch 'till you don't recognize the living breathing creature in front of you anymore. knead the dough; stroke it and ply it under the strength of your hands. give it a little slap and feel it quiver. not too hard though 'else it will turn on you - turn tough and give you a hard stare refusing to wield to your charms. just hard enough - you know what i mean - just hard enough to hurt but not *hurt*. no longer are you faced with a cool detached entity - the heat of your touch has melted it beneath your gaze into a languidly smooth expanse rising rising to a peak of pleasure. it's the heat and the chemistry and the fire. magic.
so anyway, i think that, in the kitchen, i'm more like jamie than melissa, though in most other ways i'm more like melissa than jamie. and i'm sorry jamie, for lying to you. call me, k? we can make some more custard and spoon.
This is certainly not the way I cook. I cook the way I used to exercise---no distractions except maybe the radio, mind as blank as I can get it. And I like to do things kind of slowly, no rushing around. And I like to follow directions for the most part, particularly if I am making something new, but be able to get creative if I feel like it. And I like to have a big glass of wine, and maybe a second glass if there is any Down Time like something being in the oven. And I don’t want any help. However this does change once in a while because of my frantic schedule, and instead of calmly slicing up vegetables and drinking my lovely glass of wine I end up frantically mixing up oatmeal with a swizzle stick and sharing a plate of cream cheese/grape jelly Wheat Thins with my children.
you should read her more often. she's good.
she is comparing her way of cooking to jamie oliver. now, i would not, personally, compare myself to jamie oliver 'cause, quite frankly, i'm a little in awe of the man. i'd like to bear his love children, except i'm not having any more children and the kiddo quite enjoys being an only child (such luxuries allow me to entertain the thought of buying him an ipod shuffler just because, and he knows this. as well, he's quite content knowing that he'll probably get everything on his christmas list 'cause he's the only son/grandson. were there more children he'd have to share and he's not so pleased with that idea.) either way, if jamie oliver came by and asked me to bear his love children i'd have to seriously consider revoking his independent nation status and creating our own little un. actually, better yet, i'd just tell mr. oliver that i'd bear the love children, take the potato mashin, cheeky custard, banged flat chicken lovin' and secretly take anti-childbearing measures. not the best way to begin a relationship but seriously, now, all i'm looking for is a one night confection saturated thrill, not a committment here jamie and don't you think you are getting ahead of yourself a little? we just met. sheesh.
but i digress.
i think i cook more like jamie than like melissa, though i fully embrace the idea of eating crackers and jam with a large glass of wine for dinner. just the other night i had half a peanut butter cookie, two muscle relaxants and a shot of stoli. good times. i didn't share the vodka with the kiddo though. i mean, seriously now, i'll buy him an ipod but stay the fuck away from my stoli i mean it.
ok i just said i wasn't gonna compare myself to jamie, but then he got all uppity about me lying to him regarding children and committent and shit so i'm gonna do it anyway. i cook more the way he does than melissa 'cause i can't detach - i put myself right into cooking and feel it at my core. i believe that you should cook with your hands. fuck spoons - get your fingers in the bowl and feel the mix of the dough. squeeze the little beads of flour and butter and sugar between your fingertips, gently gently, maybe with a little more force. give them a squeeze and a bit of a tug - fire the elements together with the heat of your touch 'till you don't recognize the living breathing creature in front of you anymore. knead the dough; stroke it and ply it under the strength of your hands. give it a little slap and feel it quiver. not too hard though 'else it will turn on you - turn tough and give you a hard stare refusing to wield to your charms. just hard enough - you know what i mean - just hard enough to hurt but not *hurt*. no longer are you faced with a cool detached entity - the heat of your touch has melted it beneath your gaze into a languidly smooth expanse rising rising to a peak of pleasure. it's the heat and the chemistry and the fire. magic.
so anyway, i think that, in the kitchen, i'm more like jamie than melissa, though in most other ways i'm more like melissa than jamie. and i'm sorry jamie, for lying to you. call me, k? we can make some more custard and spoon.
goin' to hell in a handbasket
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Moderate |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Moderate |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | High |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | High |
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
jeudi, février 17
a revision?
you know, i left freddie ljungberg off the list, and now i'm wondering if i should put him back...
mardi, février 15
the list - february 2005
1) dave grohl. always and forever
2) johnny depp
3) jude law
4) jack johnson
5) joaquin phoenix
and the bottom five, in no particular order:
- ewan macgregor
- eminem
- vin diesel (i'm gonna pretend that kids movie isn't happening)
- jason statham
- the guy from disturbed
2) johnny depp
3) jude law
4) jack johnson
5) joaquin phoenix
and the bottom five, in no particular order:
- ewan macgregor
- eminem
- vin diesel (i'm gonna pretend that kids movie isn't happening)
- jason statham
- the guy from disturbed
the perfect man
i think i need this man.
he's sensitive, can play the guitar, used to be a surfer, and is bleeding hot. smoking hot. he's on the list. so... if you know jack johnson, or if you are jack johnson, please contact me at raspberry sundae
he's sensitive, can play the guitar, used to be a surfer, and is bleeding hot. smoking hot. he's on the list. so... if you know jack johnson, or if you are jack johnson, please contact me at raspberry sundae
oh this is so perfect you have no idea....
Toxic by Britney Spears |
 "It's getting late To give you up I took a sip From my devil cup Slowly It's taking over me " Ah, what's a year without breaking a few hearts? Literally. |
so far
my valentines date this year was, as aforementioned, my little brother. he's going to uni at the same school i did, so is here in van for a couple of weeks a year. during his last visit (christmas) he picked up a cd of ted leo, and discovered that they were set to play while he was off on reading break.
anyhoo.... we went and it was fun. done.
what is interesting to me is how i'm so much *different* around my brother. well, around lots of people - i have these different personalities, and i'm fascinated by who gets to see what aspect of me. the last time i was out for dinner with maktaaq she noticed how animated i was - i think that's pretty close to who i am, especially lately. i mean, the introspective quiet stuff is me, too. but there are some people who really ONLY get to see that side. it takes a while to get to the giddy, laughing my butt off acting silly stuff. the other side of it is this - on saturday night, i went to a work function. now, the people i work with do, on occasion, see the giddy side of me (well, some of them anyway). however, on saturday night, it was completely hidden from view. (of course i was VERY TIRED, but still).
ahh i dunno where i'm going with this. i guess it's just interesting to me how you choose to expose aspects of yourself to the different people in your life - even people who are your family may not see all of who you really are.
lime and i were talking about a tangent of this topic when i was on the island recently - people of our generation (gen x or whatever) grew up with this image of what the "perfect" family should be - we grew up with the remnants of the nuclear family resonating in popular culture and so have this ingrained sense of what family is. we all know that it's a myth (probably one of the grand myths of the 20th century) but still it's hardwired into our psyches as something to seek. i honestly think rave culture is an outpouring of this - the basic essence of rave culture is coming together in a community united by the desire to look after each other, to love each other, and to be 'as one' spiritually. (this is what separates it from most other subcultures). there's the getting fucked out of your head on psychedelics and dancing your asses off as well but at the heart is this desire to be one with each other and with the world.
check current popular culture - most films reflecting 'young' people (twenties / thirties style) enact the group of friends as the urban family - much has been said about this in popular news articles and the like. we are looking for that sense of family. we are the first generation to have a large number of our members raised by single parents. we are the first generation to have households in which both parents worked as the majority. we are (perhaps) the first generation* to recognize that family is a construct and therefore, like any construct, can be deconstructed and remade. we are the first generation to recognize that family can be chosen: "Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place." (zach braff in garden state).
but here's my question to you: are we now creating this construct of the 'urban' family - this tight group of friends who are here for you through thick and thin? are we just transferring our desire for family and community from the families we really have onto other people? or is the 'urban' family a more attainable myth?
* i recognize that this statement is problematic. you could dispute me (i'm thinking of john glassco's memoirs of montparnasse, and his descriptions of his contrasting relationships with his family and friends).
anyhoo.... we went and it was fun. done.
what is interesting to me is how i'm so much *different* around my brother. well, around lots of people - i have these different personalities, and i'm fascinated by who gets to see what aspect of me. the last time i was out for dinner with maktaaq she noticed how animated i was - i think that's pretty close to who i am, especially lately. i mean, the introspective quiet stuff is me, too. but there are some people who really ONLY get to see that side. it takes a while to get to the giddy, laughing my butt off acting silly stuff. the other side of it is this - on saturday night, i went to a work function. now, the people i work with do, on occasion, see the giddy side of me (well, some of them anyway). however, on saturday night, it was completely hidden from view. (of course i was VERY TIRED, but still).
ahh i dunno where i'm going with this. i guess it's just interesting to me how you choose to expose aspects of yourself to the different people in your life - even people who are your family may not see all of who you really are.
lime and i were talking about a tangent of this topic when i was on the island recently - people of our generation (gen x or whatever) grew up with this image of what the "perfect" family should be - we grew up with the remnants of the nuclear family resonating in popular culture and so have this ingrained sense of what family is. we all know that it's a myth (probably one of the grand myths of the 20th century) but still it's hardwired into our psyches as something to seek. i honestly think rave culture is an outpouring of this - the basic essence of rave culture is coming together in a community united by the desire to look after each other, to love each other, and to be 'as one' spiritually. (this is what separates it from most other subcultures). there's the getting fucked out of your head on psychedelics and dancing your asses off as well but at the heart is this desire to be one with each other and with the world.
check current popular culture - most films reflecting 'young' people (twenties / thirties style) enact the group of friends as the urban family - much has been said about this in popular news articles and the like. we are looking for that sense of family. we are the first generation to have a large number of our members raised by single parents. we are the first generation to have households in which both parents worked as the majority. we are (perhaps) the first generation* to recognize that family is a construct and therefore, like any construct, can be deconstructed and remade. we are the first generation to recognize that family can be chosen: "Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place." (zach braff in garden state).
but here's my question to you: are we now creating this construct of the 'urban' family - this tight group of friends who are here for you through thick and thin? are we just transferring our desire for family and community from the families we really have onto other people? or is the 'urban' family a more attainable myth?
* i recognize that this statement is problematic. you could dispute me (i'm thinking of john glassco's memoirs of montparnasse, and his descriptions of his contrasting relationships with his family and friends).
lundi, février 14
through the looking glass
so one of the only things i took out of my relationship with my crazyexboyfriend (aside from a low self esteem, baggage of varying sizes and a taste for rough sex) is this great mirror that was custom cut for him. i just noticed that, while sitting in the vintage shampoo chair (oops there's another thing) i can see reflected in this mirror, the far corner of my bedroom. i'm sitting her looking at it and it's this lovely little vignette of tranquility - the wall is sage green, as is the bedding. the lamp hanging from the ceiling is this rust coloured silk. there is a print of egon shiele's sunflowers on the wall and my lovely lovely valentines flowers on the bedside table. the pillows are kind of rumpled (i just crawled out of it) and look really inviting... if it weren't for my evening out i'd slide between the sheets and lie back and think about the world... well till i fell asleep anyway.
the day
so for valentine's two years ago, i cooked dinner and drank WAY too much with dj monte. he's one of the better people to spend the day with - handsome, articulate, chivalrous, and horny as all get out.
last year is the happy happy valentine's day in which i met lemo-licious (happy anniversary, darling!). i drank way way too much and smooched with her in a restaurant, much to the delight of both mike b and our server.
this year, i had to work. mind i got to kiss N2 and the cute web boy; had a mid-afternoon naughty msn chat with the porn star; i got a fun happy val-day phone call from sean; and AND i received a bouquet of mystery flowers. i LOVE mystery presents... and the flowers have the added bonus of being the kind of item that get gossiped about all over the office, therefore it's pretty much guaranteed that mr. m found out. which, i'm pretty sure (since i have ascertained who sent them) was at least part of the point. plus tonight i'm heading off to see ted leo with my younger brother, so an evening in front of the telly with a bucket of haagen dans is out of the question. fun!
so, all in all, despite my singlehood for the third year running, i've had a wonderful valentines day - the sun was shining, chocolates were consumed, flowers were sniffed, boys were kissed, and music is about to be enjoyed. can't go wrong with that.
last year is the happy happy valentine's day in which i met lemo-licious (happy anniversary, darling!). i drank way way too much and smooched with her in a restaurant, much to the delight of both mike b and our server.
this year, i had to work. mind i got to kiss N2 and the cute web boy; had a mid-afternoon naughty msn chat with the porn star; i got a fun happy val-day phone call from sean; and AND i received a bouquet of mystery flowers. i LOVE mystery presents... and the flowers have the added bonus of being the kind of item that get gossiped about all over the office, therefore it's pretty much guaranteed that mr. m found out. which, i'm pretty sure (since i have ascertained who sent them) was at least part of the point. plus tonight i'm heading off to see ted leo with my younger brother, so an evening in front of the telly with a bucket of haagen dans is out of the question. fun!
so, all in all, despite my singlehood for the third year running, i've had a wonderful valentines day - the sun was shining, chocolates were consumed, flowers were sniffed, boys were kissed, and music is about to be enjoyed. can't go wrong with that.
samedi, février 12
"i had no idea you were so *dirty*!"
so i've had a busy couple of evenings, kids. on thursday night i went to drink wine and have some dinner with an old friend. and, of course, by old friend i mean someone i used to sleep with. now here's the kicker with this guy - you may recall me mentioning a weekend where i went to the island and ran into someone from my past at a club while out with the lemon. well, this would be the guy. i guess he's left his wife and is looking for a place to buy here in lotusland. interesting. ANYhoo... he picked me up thursday evening and we went to this dark little place in kits and drank wine and ate chocolate raspberry cake (OH MY GOD this was good - that's all i can say about that). at about 12.30 i looked at my watch and had a brief moment of "I HAVE TO GET UP IN 5 HOURS" and went home to bed. yes by myself (though no one believed me when i said that).
last night was the evening of my sister's infamous dinner party, in which she invited a bunch of her friends over and i got to cook. actually i really like cooking, and i don't get to do it often enough, so i was delighted to do it. though, for a few moments, it looked like we were going to have 14 people and i had a bit of a panic attack 'cause i was pretty sure we didn't have enough food - though i could have figured something out. after i got off work, i picked her and her friend up at the pub down the road from her condo. they'd been drinking since 11am and so were feeling quite amicable. lately, i've had some pretty irrepressible good cheer, i was a little overtired, had snuck out of work a half an hour early, and it was a GORGEOUS afternoon, so i was in the same state of mind fairly naturally. now, part of the way i interact with my good friends, especially when we are out, has a deep level of sexy play to it. i just naturally fall into that - it's kind of part of who i am. at one point, my sister's friend (who is the boyfriend of one of her best friends) looked at me and said "i had no idea you were so DIRTY!" to which i just laughed. of COURSE i am. then he said he was a little afraid of me... which didn't, however, stop him from spraying whipped cream down my pants. hmph. i hope he didn't actually take me seriously. 'cause god knows you can't take me seriously....
last night was the evening of my sister's infamous dinner party, in which she invited a bunch of her friends over and i got to cook. actually i really like cooking, and i don't get to do it often enough, so i was delighted to do it. though, for a few moments, it looked like we were going to have 14 people and i had a bit of a panic attack 'cause i was pretty sure we didn't have enough food - though i could have figured something out. after i got off work, i picked her and her friend up at the pub down the road from her condo. they'd been drinking since 11am and so were feeling quite amicable. lately, i've had some pretty irrepressible good cheer, i was a little overtired, had snuck out of work a half an hour early, and it was a GORGEOUS afternoon, so i was in the same state of mind fairly naturally. now, part of the way i interact with my good friends, especially when we are out, has a deep level of sexy play to it. i just naturally fall into that - it's kind of part of who i am. at one point, my sister's friend (who is the boyfriend of one of her best friends) looked at me and said "i had no idea you were so DIRTY!" to which i just laughed. of COURSE i am. then he said he was a little afraid of me... which didn't, however, stop him from spraying whipped cream down my pants. hmph. i hope he didn't actually take me seriously. 'cause god knows you can't take me seriously....
busted
sure sign that mike b doesn't read the blog - last night, when i said something about the whole 'breaking the vow' incident of this past weekend, he was shocked. then he out-ed me to my sister, who claimed she knew all along, even though i'd been trying to "hide" it. this rather confused me, 'cause i haven't actually been hiding it, i just failed to announce it when i returned home (well, aside from here anyway). hmph.
ohhh i got presents in the mail yesterday... well one wasn't a present - it was a little flower that i'd been wearing in my hair last saturday, and which failed to make it home from W49's place. he mailed it back to me with a little note saying he'd like to hang out next time he's in van.
and and and! the 'disco biscuits' cd returned from across the pond, accompanied by a disk full of photos and some yummy dark chocolate (the first of which i ate last night as i sat here shortly after midnight, drunk on red wine for the second night in a row). i am such a lucky sundae...
ohhh i got presents in the mail yesterday... well one wasn't a present - it was a little flower that i'd been wearing in my hair last saturday, and which failed to make it home from W49's place. he mailed it back to me with a little note saying he'd like to hang out next time he's in van.
and and and! the 'disco biscuits' cd returned from across the pond, accompanied by a disk full of photos and some yummy dark chocolate (the first of which i ate last night as i sat here shortly after midnight, drunk on red wine for the second night in a row). i am such a lucky sundae...
jeudi, février 10
was there ever any doubt?
You are creative, complicated and flirty, although perhaps a bit disorganized and unpredictable! You're a great example of a 'melt-in-your-mouth' personality wrapped up in a colorful package!
mercredi, février 9
the original oc (with apologies to ice-t)
I’m rollin’ up in a little blue coupe,
I’m belted in, i know the scoop.
The minute I arrived some hottie got kissed
Blinked 10 times 'fore he knew what he missed.
Word in the club was i'm no regular tart
And without hesitatin’ I started breakin' some hearts.
Found a sharp lookin' man who knew some grooves
So i walked on over - time to show him my moves.
Our first slow dance the whole feelin’ was hot
It wasn’t quite my style but i gave it a shot.
Then I stalked away and I threw him a look
The boy was stunned - he'd fully bought the book.
He thought he'd get play, but it wasn't to be -
Y'see I can't be tamed - I'm the Original O.C.
I’m belted in, i know the scoop.
The minute I arrived some hottie got kissed
Blinked 10 times 'fore he knew what he missed.
Word in the club was i'm no regular tart
And without hesitatin’ I started breakin' some hearts.
Found a sharp lookin' man who knew some grooves
So i walked on over - time to show him my moves.
Our first slow dance the whole feelin’ was hot
It wasn’t quite my style but i gave it a shot.
Then I stalked away and I threw him a look
The boy was stunned - he'd fully bought the book.
He thought he'd get play, but it wasn't to be -
Y'see I can't be tamed - I'm the Original O.C.
mardi, février 8
oh i'm giggling like a schoolgirl, here
i called him. i left a message. he called me back 5 minutes later. we talked for half an hour. he asked me to add him to my msn contacts so we can chat. he will be coming to vancouver to hang out in a couple of weeks - he wants to seeeee mmeeeeeeeee.
hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
the public life
so in the last week, two people from my sidebar have quit blogging because of nasty commenters - jenny good and greg the boyfriend.
when we listen to music, or read people's words, we often feel an affinity with them - almost like we know them in some way. maybe they express perfectly an emotion that we cannot put into words. perhaps they sing about feeling, a longing that we thought was the private emotional hell of us alone - hearing about it from them makes us feel as though we are connected somehow. when we see characters in sitcoms over and over it's almost as though we know them, too.
the thing is, we project some of our longings and needs onto these people - the image we have of them is not who they really are. it's an imaginary construction made up of a creative expression combined with a figment of our imagination. they cannot possibly live up to what we imagine them to be. who could?
blogging is kind of the same thing, except maybe at a heightened degree - when i regularly read personal writings again and again, it is easy to forget that i am only seeing a portion of who that person is - i am only seeing what they are allowing me to see. i cannot expect them to be exactly who they portray themselves as when they choose to share some thoughts and feelings and a taste of their creativity with me twice weekly, or daily, or monthly, or whatever.
the difference, though, between me blogging and a recognizable celebrity blogging is that the malicious commenters who plagued me earlier this year probably can't recognize me on the street. i don't have to worry about running into someone who may have taken offense by something i've said.
(however, there is always the chance that someone who DOES know me in real life will come across this, make the connection, and use my thoughts, feelings and ideas against me, as someone recently did to lemon.)
while maktaaq has been frustrated and irritated and probably a little hurt by the crazy person who sent her 2000 emails because she disagreed with an opinion, she doesn't have to fear a face-to-face confrontation.
jenny good (wife of matt good) does, though. someone objected to a post she made and sent letters to amnesty international attacking matthew good. so, the only real response she could make was to shut down her blog.
greg the boyfriend ran into someone who read his blog regularly. he dared to be unfriendly to this perfect stranger - and because that person had projected their expectations of his personality onto him, they proceeded to attack him when he didn't live up to their imaginary construction of who they figured he SHOULD be. so, he shut down his blog.
i know there are a lot of crazies out there. and, unfortunately, lots of them spend a lot of time on the 'net. these lonely, socially challenged people or "trolls" as they are sometimes called, cruise around blogs, websites, and bulletin boards and like nothing better than to anonymously attack people, hurt people and see what damage they can do before moving on.
it seriously sucks. i think that i've managed to make some good friends through my blog - friends that i've met and friends that i will never meet, but friends nonetheless. i acknowledge the fact that someday the stupid commenters will come back and probably go for my throat again. at that point, i may shut it down, or go underground like lots of people are doing. but, until that day (or the day that sitting here a few times a week no longer brings me the joy it does now), i'll keep writing. and hopefully someone will keep reading :)
when we listen to music, or read people's words, we often feel an affinity with them - almost like we know them in some way. maybe they express perfectly an emotion that we cannot put into words. perhaps they sing about feeling, a longing that we thought was the private emotional hell of us alone - hearing about it from them makes us feel as though we are connected somehow. when we see characters in sitcoms over and over it's almost as though we know them, too.
the thing is, we project some of our longings and needs onto these people - the image we have of them is not who they really are. it's an imaginary construction made up of a creative expression combined with a figment of our imagination. they cannot possibly live up to what we imagine them to be. who could?
blogging is kind of the same thing, except maybe at a heightened degree - when i regularly read personal writings again and again, it is easy to forget that i am only seeing a portion of who that person is - i am only seeing what they are allowing me to see. i cannot expect them to be exactly who they portray themselves as when they choose to share some thoughts and feelings and a taste of their creativity with me twice weekly, or daily, or monthly, or whatever.
the difference, though, between me blogging and a recognizable celebrity blogging is that the malicious commenters who plagued me earlier this year probably can't recognize me on the street. i don't have to worry about running into someone who may have taken offense by something i've said.
(however, there is always the chance that someone who DOES know me in real life will come across this, make the connection, and use my thoughts, feelings and ideas against me, as someone recently did to lemon.)
while maktaaq has been frustrated and irritated and probably a little hurt by the crazy person who sent her 2000 emails because she disagreed with an opinion, she doesn't have to fear a face-to-face confrontation.
jenny good (wife of matt good) does, though. someone objected to a post she made and sent letters to amnesty international attacking matthew good. so, the only real response she could make was to shut down her blog.
greg the boyfriend ran into someone who read his blog regularly. he dared to be unfriendly to this perfect stranger - and because that person had projected their expectations of his personality onto him, they proceeded to attack him when he didn't live up to their imaginary construction of who they figured he SHOULD be. so, he shut down his blog.
i know there are a lot of crazies out there. and, unfortunately, lots of them spend a lot of time on the 'net. these lonely, socially challenged people or "trolls" as they are sometimes called, cruise around blogs, websites, and bulletin boards and like nothing better than to anonymously attack people, hurt people and see what damage they can do before moving on.
it seriously sucks. i think that i've managed to make some good friends through my blog - friends that i've met and friends that i will never meet, but friends nonetheless. i acknowledge the fact that someday the stupid commenters will come back and probably go for my throat again. at that point, i may shut it down, or go underground like lots of people are doing. but, until that day (or the day that sitting here a few times a week no longer brings me the joy it does now), i'll keep writing. and hopefully someone will keep reading :)
tuesdae's horoscope
"Beginnings are in the air -- in your case, most especially with regard to relationships. Fortunately, romance just so happens to be your undisputed specialty. Talk about timing! Obviously, the universe is pleased with your plans."
i love it when a plan comes together...
(lol)
i love it when a plan comes together...
(lol)
lundi, février 7
to phone or not to phone?
ok here's the second part of the story.
kids, i got no follow through. i'm super good at the "wandering through the club, picking a random strange boy to make out with then abandoning him erect and frustrated on the dancefloor" thing, but not so hot with the actually sealing the deal thing. i can't quite figure out why - i think it has to do with my remarkable apathy and the fact that i'd way rather go home with my friends, wake up where i'm supposed to and go out for breakfast to laugh at myself.
well, there is also the fact that i SERIOUSLY distrust my own taste in men.
this one i noticed mostly 'cause he was cute and looked way different than the other men in that bar - i.e. he wasn't slimy, wasn't 40, and didn't qualify for the "real or fake?" game i was playing with people's hairstyles (swear to GOD donald trump's stylist did a free session in victoria on saturday afternoon). so i'm parched, and there's a big crowd at the bar. the lem hits the line for a glass of water. i see (shit what to call this one? ah yes - west49) right up at the bar. i put my hand on his shoulder and let it rest there till he turns around. "can you do me a monumental favour?" i ask. "ok" he replies. "could you get me a glass of water?" so he turns back to the bar and gets a pint glass full of ice water from the bartender. he hands it to me, i smile, and kiss him just at the corner of his mouth - not actually touching his lips, but almost - almost. that is, close enough to pique his interest, but not so close that it was creepy, too agressive, or couldn't be passed off as friendly if his previously unseen girlfriend came roaring out of a crevice with a banshee scream and a battleaxe. then i walked away.
anyhoo, long story short, after a while he came over and introduced himself, we went back to his place, etc etc. thing is, i actually followed through. now i'm not sure what to do. one of my guy friends asked me if i feel guilty about doing it. lots of girls would, he figures, but i sure don't. i'm just always super unsure of what the next step should be, you know? he gave me his number - should i call? he lives in a different city, but that's not the hugest deal in the world. he seemed really... nice. (he tried to get me to stay over, and wanted to give me vitamins (do i look malnourished?)). but then, i guess he was trying to get laid, huh? ah well - i'm sure this little piece of paper will sit on my desk for about a month, then it'll migrate to my little basket of odds and ends and phone numbers, then in about six months i'll be cleaning out the basket and wonder who the heck west49 is, anyway.
kids, i got no follow through. i'm super good at the "wandering through the club, picking a random strange boy to make out with then abandoning him erect and frustrated on the dancefloor" thing, but not so hot with the actually sealing the deal thing. i can't quite figure out why - i think it has to do with my remarkable apathy and the fact that i'd way rather go home with my friends, wake up where i'm supposed to and go out for breakfast to laugh at myself.
well, there is also the fact that i SERIOUSLY distrust my own taste in men.
this one i noticed mostly 'cause he was cute and looked way different than the other men in that bar - i.e. he wasn't slimy, wasn't 40, and didn't qualify for the "real or fake?" game i was playing with people's hairstyles (swear to GOD donald trump's stylist did a free session in victoria on saturday afternoon). so i'm parched, and there's a big crowd at the bar. the lem hits the line for a glass of water. i see (shit what to call this one? ah yes - west49) right up at the bar. i put my hand on his shoulder and let it rest there till he turns around. "can you do me a monumental favour?" i ask. "ok" he replies. "could you get me a glass of water?" so he turns back to the bar and gets a pint glass full of ice water from the bartender. he hands it to me, i smile, and kiss him just at the corner of his mouth - not actually touching his lips, but almost - almost. that is, close enough to pique his interest, but not so close that it was creepy, too agressive, or couldn't be passed off as friendly if his previously unseen girlfriend came roaring out of a crevice with a banshee scream and a battleaxe. then i walked away.
anyhoo, long story short, after a while he came over and introduced himself, we went back to his place, etc etc. thing is, i actually followed through. now i'm not sure what to do. one of my guy friends asked me if i feel guilty about doing it. lots of girls would, he figures, but i sure don't. i'm just always super unsure of what the next step should be, you know? he gave me his number - should i call? he lives in a different city, but that's not the hugest deal in the world. he seemed really... nice. (he tried to get me to stay over, and wanted to give me vitamins (do i look malnourished?)). but then, i guess he was trying to get laid, huh? ah well - i'm sure this little piece of paper will sit on my desk for about a month, then it'll migrate to my little basket of odds and ends and phone numbers, then in about six months i'll be cleaning out the basket and wonder who the heck west49 is, anyway.
ripped from the headlines
well, actually, stolen from the amateur gourmet. weirdly enough, this has nothing to do with food...
1) What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
1 gig or so. i just got a new (well, new to me) computer and so i moved all of my music files from my OLD computer onto my laptop and haven't shifted them back yet. so, i'm a little low. i imagine my laptop has TONNES.
2) The CD you last bought?
kasabian ok if you like old school factory records era brit stuff, check these guys out - clubfoot is the happy mondays crossed with the stone roses and fun fun fun:
3) What was the last song you listened to before reading this message?
thinking about the lyrics to clubfoot(above) made me want to hear the song, so i'm listening to it now.
4) Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
a) "digital bath" - the deftones. seriously, this song moves me, fills me with such longing i can't bear it some days.
b) "the outsider" - a perfect circle. this song makes me think of driving in the dark to visit the kiddo in the hospital last year. it kind of reflects some of the anger i felt at the time, and how i *just didn't understand*, you know? so listening to it makes me feel these conflicting things - but it's SO powerful: "what'll it take to get through to you precious / Over this. Why you wanna throw it away like this / Such a mess. I don't want to watch you / disconnect and self destruct one bullet it at a time / what's your rush now everyone will have his day to die"
c) "risingson" or "angel" - massive attack. "mezzanine" is one of my all time favourite albums. the first two tracks are everything that is great about the album encapsulated into 7 or so minutes. angel really makes me think of my crazyexboyfriend, but for good reasons. plus it's so DARK - they use it in snatch when the gangsters are burning the trailer down with the woman trapped inside.
d) "how soon is now" - the smiths. that would be my highschool experience - period. come to think of it, it's kind of my thirties, too lol.
e) "everlong (acoustic)" - the foo fighters. the first time i heard this version of this song, i literally cried. i just love it that much.
5) Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
3 people? heck! i'm passing it on to EVERYONE!
1) What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
1 gig or so. i just got a new (well, new to me) computer and so i moved all of my music files from my OLD computer onto my laptop and haven't shifted them back yet. so, i'm a little low. i imagine my laptop has TONNES.
2) The CD you last bought?
kasabian ok if you like old school factory records era brit stuff, check these guys out - clubfoot is the happy mondays crossed with the stone roses and fun fun fun:
Friends, take control of me
Stalking cross' the gallery
All these pills got to operate
The colour quits and all invade us
There it goes again
Take me to the edge again
All I got is a dirty trick
I'm chasin down all walls to save ya
I tell you I want you
I'll tell you I need you
I... the blood ain't on my face
Just wanted you near me
3) What was the last song you listened to before reading this message?
thinking about the lyrics to clubfoot(above) made me want to hear the song, so i'm listening to it now.
4) Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
a) "digital bath" - the deftones. seriously, this song moves me, fills me with such longing i can't bear it some days.
b) "the outsider" - a perfect circle. this song makes me think of driving in the dark to visit the kiddo in the hospital last year. it kind of reflects some of the anger i felt at the time, and how i *just didn't understand*, you know? so listening to it makes me feel these conflicting things - but it's SO powerful: "what'll it take to get through to you precious / Over this. Why you wanna throw it away like this / Such a mess. I don't want to watch you / disconnect and self destruct one bullet it at a time / what's your rush now everyone will have his day to die"
c) "risingson" or "angel" - massive attack. "mezzanine" is one of my all time favourite albums. the first two tracks are everything that is great about the album encapsulated into 7 or so minutes. angel really makes me think of my crazyexboyfriend, but for good reasons. plus it's so DARK - they use it in snatch when the gangsters are burning the trailer down with the woman trapped inside.
d) "how soon is now" - the smiths. that would be my highschool experience - period. come to think of it, it's kind of my thirties, too lol.
e) "everlong (acoustic)" - the foo fighters. the first time i heard this version of this song, i literally cried. i just love it that much.
5) Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
3 people? heck! i'm passing it on to EVERYONE!
dimanche, février 6
explanation
ok so here it is:
the theory behind the celibacy is this.
two haircuts ago, my hairdresser looked at me in the mirror and said "i'm not trying to hit on you or anything, but you are really *sexy*". i laughed out loud and asked her to elaborate. she said "you just sort of exude it. you can tell that you really like sex."
as part of my since-new-year-thinks, part of me wonders if maybe that's how people see me - that the sexy is all that i am. does that make sense? like i am sexy - i obviously like sex - so that becomes the sum of my personality - no need to look any deeper. these are thoughts i've explored before - no new territory here. what was new, however was my half assed decision to see if maybe, just maybe, i STOPPED having sex if people would want to see me as more, if people would look deeper than the sexy.
"there are girls you sleep with and girls you marry"
"that's not who you are - you're just the fuck"
we're back to the ugly stepsister thing again, maybe. i don't know. you don't have to be UGLY to be the ugly stepsister. you just have to know that you ain't gonna get the prince. and maybe that's ok. maybe knowing that you will end up living alone with the cats is ok, as long as along the way you got to make out with all of the knights and *not* turn into a pumpkin at midnight - instead you stayed out till 6am dancing and laughing and drinking and talking, and then were locked out of the castle and had to go sneaking around the yard giggling giggling looking for the spare key hoping hoping the dog doesn't bark and wake up the night watchmen.
s'ok - i fucked up the celibacy thing anyway. oops, slipsies. he sure was cute, though. nice, too - which is rare for me. maybe celibacy was good for me, after all :-).
the theory behind the celibacy is this.
two haircuts ago, my hairdresser looked at me in the mirror and said "i'm not trying to hit on you or anything, but you are really *sexy*". i laughed out loud and asked her to elaborate. she said "you just sort of exude it. you can tell that you really like sex."
as part of my since-new-year-thinks, part of me wonders if maybe that's how people see me - that the sexy is all that i am. does that make sense? like i am sexy - i obviously like sex - so that becomes the sum of my personality - no need to look any deeper. these are thoughts i've explored before - no new territory here. what was new, however was my half assed decision to see if maybe, just maybe, i STOPPED having sex if people would want to see me as more, if people would look deeper than the sexy.
"there are girls you sleep with and girls you marry"
"that's not who you are - you're just the fuck"
we're back to the ugly stepsister thing again, maybe. i don't know. you don't have to be UGLY to be the ugly stepsister. you just have to know that you ain't gonna get the prince. and maybe that's ok. maybe knowing that you will end up living alone with the cats is ok, as long as along the way you got to make out with all of the knights and *not* turn into a pumpkin at midnight - instead you stayed out till 6am dancing and laughing and drinking and talking, and then were locked out of the castle and had to go sneaking around the yard giggling giggling looking for the spare key hoping hoping the dog doesn't bark and wake up the night watchmen.
s'ok - i fucked up the celibacy thing anyway. oops, slipsies. he sure was cute, though. nice, too - which is rare for me. maybe celibacy was good for me, after all :-).
jeudi, février 3
oh hey
did i mention that the other day my crazy exboyfriend called?
the kiddo screened him. i was asleep apparently.
psycho-jeremy "uh hey, is sundae there?"
kiddo "oh no, actually. sorry she's not".
psycho-jeremy "oh ok could you tell.."
kiddo (interrupting) "ya sure" CLICK.
the kiddo screened him. i was asleep apparently.
psycho-jeremy "uh hey, is sundae there?"
kiddo "oh no, actually. sorry she's not".
psycho-jeremy "oh ok could you tell.."
kiddo (interrupting) "ya sure" CLICK.
the kiddo
is making me a party cd. i've picked a few groovy tunes that i enjoy and he's gonna put 'em together with a bunch of others in some kind of mix tape magic. he's good at that - fans of the 'disco biscuits' compilation know his work and have done the car-chair bum wiggle more than once. (you know who you are, you crazy kids).
speaking of disco biscuits - that cd took an impromptu holiday in mr. newly's laptop. i guess that makes it an international hit, huh?
the other day i was reading another blogger talking about how she couldn't smoke pot 'cause she's OCD and it makes her crazy. the only time it doesn't is when she's high on e - it was really funny to read 'cause the whole time she's describing her crazyness i'm like "oh me too!" "oh me too!". and a bunch of other people commented and were like "oh me too!". so maybe all bloggers are ocd or maybe just the ones who read that blog. or maybe nobody is and i'm not ocd but completely delusional. entirely possible.
ANYhoo. i bring this up 'cause i think my ocd is getting worse as i get older. for example - my bathroom drawers have not been the bestest shining examples of organization (i mean, who's are?) but they were divided into hair products and makeup products and sorted vaguely according to a system which made sense only to me. lately, though, this has been driving me INSANE. every morning when i open the drawers and look in and KNOW that they are organized (but only loosely and only i can tell and lately it hasn't been that clear even to me even to me) i have been barely able to contain myself from ripping them off their tracks, dumping their contents out onto the floor and sorting all morning. good for the soul, not so good for the employment status.
now, the other day when i was at ikea with my sister (yay! sister!) i discovered these great DRAWER organizers. i fairly plotzed with excitement (did i mention i went to see meet the fockers? how fabu is babs?). i picked up the organizers. i carried them around. i showed them to my sister. i eyed up their measurements and closed my eyes envisioning the gaping maw that is my own personal pit of disorganzed hell. i showed them to my sister again ("yes, yes, i KNOW. DRAWER organizers." said patiently, eyes rolling a little when she thinks i'm not looking). i carried them some more. i gazed upon them as i sat waiting for her to pick out a bedframe. i showed them to her again. and finally, finally, i purchased them.
i brought them home. i emptied my drawers (one at a time - can't have the contents comingling. that would be CHAOS). i put the organizers into the drawers (look at that snug fit! like a bug in a rug! (who thought UP that expression?)) i replaced the contents of the drawers. look! look! makeup sorted by the facial feature it is intended to be used on! and wait! what's this?! could it be?! YES! the eye shadows ARE sub-sorted by brand, colour palette and frequency of use!
yes, i'm a geek.
speaking of disco biscuits - that cd took an impromptu holiday in mr. newly's laptop. i guess that makes it an international hit, huh?
the other day i was reading another blogger talking about how she couldn't smoke pot 'cause she's OCD and it makes her crazy. the only time it doesn't is when she's high on e - it was really funny to read 'cause the whole time she's describing her crazyness i'm like "oh me too!" "oh me too!". and a bunch of other people commented and were like "oh me too!". so maybe all bloggers are ocd or maybe just the ones who read that blog. or maybe nobody is and i'm not ocd but completely delusional. entirely possible.
ANYhoo. i bring this up 'cause i think my ocd is getting worse as i get older. for example - my bathroom drawers have not been the bestest shining examples of organization (i mean, who's are?) but they were divided into hair products and makeup products and sorted vaguely according to a system which made sense only to me. lately, though, this has been driving me INSANE. every morning when i open the drawers and look in and KNOW that they are organized (but only loosely and only i can tell and lately it hasn't been that clear even to me even to me) i have been barely able to contain myself from ripping them off their tracks, dumping their contents out onto the floor and sorting all morning. good for the soul, not so good for the employment status.
now, the other day when i was at ikea with my sister (yay! sister!) i discovered these great DRAWER organizers. i fairly plotzed with excitement (did i mention i went to see meet the fockers? how fabu is babs?). i picked up the organizers. i carried them around. i showed them to my sister. i eyed up their measurements and closed my eyes envisioning the gaping maw that is my own personal pit of disorganzed hell. i showed them to my sister again ("yes, yes, i KNOW. DRAWER organizers." said patiently, eyes rolling a little when she thinks i'm not looking). i carried them some more. i gazed upon them as i sat waiting for her to pick out a bedframe. i showed them to her again. and finally, finally, i purchased them.
i brought them home. i emptied my drawers (one at a time - can't have the contents comingling. that would be CHAOS). i put the organizers into the drawers (look at that snug fit! like a bug in a rug! (who thought UP that expression?)) i replaced the contents of the drawers. look! look! makeup sorted by the facial feature it is intended to be used on! and wait! what's this?! could it be?! YES! the eye shadows ARE sub-sorted by brand, colour palette and frequency of use!
yes, i'm a geek.
check this, please
ok hun has a link on her page where you can send mail and packages to us troops in iraq. now, i'm not a big supporter of george double u and his little war, however, that has nothing to do with the men and the women who are there to fight it. they're in a crappy place doing a crappy job. they deserve our support and sympathy - go check it out if you'd like. i think it's a great idea.
now, they welcome letters from all over god's green place so nationality isn't an issue. HOWEVER, if you are canadian bacon and would prefer to send a little note to a member of the canadian armed forces, you can find out all the info here. you can't send a sealed package without a specific name and address, but you can send a postcard style greeting to 'any soldier' and it'll get into the hands of someone who's maybe a little homesick. and there's a message board that you can post to, as well.
remember - 2005 is about reaching out, kids.
now, they welcome letters from all over god's green place so nationality isn't an issue. HOWEVER, if you are canadian bacon and would prefer to send a little note to a member of the canadian armed forces, you can find out all the info here. you can't send a sealed package without a specific name and address, but you can send a postcard style greeting to 'any soldier' and it'll get into the hands of someone who's maybe a little homesick. and there's a message board that you can post to, as well.
remember - 2005 is about reaching out, kids.
new links y'all
ok i've added some new stuff to the sidebar. i do believe they are worth checking out, or else i wouldn't have put them there. duh.
most notably is one soapy goldfish. he just cracked me up for at least six seconds - quite the accomplishment today, let me tell you.
most notably is one soapy goldfish. he just cracked me up for at least six seconds - quite the accomplishment today, let me tell you.
mercredi, février 2
who knows...
who my last quotation was from?
("if i exorcise my demons, well my angels may leave too. when they leave they're so hard to find.")
anybody?
("if i exorcise my demons, well my angels may leave too. when they leave they're so hard to find.")
anybody?
still alive, barely
ok so i have had, for the past couple of days, what my dear friend lem-o-lish so delicately refers to as 'the utes'. and, if you check out the swizz-miss's domain, she is similarly afflicted.
i have a doctor's appointment in about a week and a half - i am going to try and make them fix me. i've been going back twice a year and saying "this is wrong. why does it do this?" and twice a year they perform the same tests and come back with no results and no answers. this time i'm not going to say "this is wrong. why does it do this?". i'm going to say "this is fucking wrong and i keep asking you the same thing over and over and you never give me a god damned answer and it's time to fucking answer or send me to a specialist who can, for christ's sake!"
anyhoo. rant done.
i've been, in my efforts to look after myself better, very good about eating healthy and eating low fat and not eating anything i'm allergic to. usually my diet is varied enough and interesting enough that i don't feel *deprived* in any way. today, though, i feel deprived. i think it's a combination of the utes and working really closely with mr. m on a project for the last couple of days (we won't get into my pathological need to do a better-than-excellent job and win his approval) but i feel... lacking. deprived - of human contact, of fun food, of something. and it's not like i haven't had a delightful social schedule the last couple of days - i spent most of sunday/monday with my sister (yay! sister!), had a thoroughly enjoyable meal with maktaaq last night, and had nice early morning chats with newly and lemon-love-of-my-life today. the raspberry just isn't feeling her perky self, kids. she needs a little love.
plus, now i feel sort of guilty 'cause, as i've been sitting here writing this, i've consumed half of a dark chocolate lindt wafer bar - one of the big ones, too. hmpfh.
i have a doctor's appointment in about a week and a half - i am going to try and make them fix me. i've been going back twice a year and saying "this is wrong. why does it do this?" and twice a year they perform the same tests and come back with no results and no answers. this time i'm not going to say "this is wrong. why does it do this?". i'm going to say "this is fucking wrong and i keep asking you the same thing over and over and you never give me a god damned answer and it's time to fucking answer or send me to a specialist who can, for christ's sake!"
anyhoo. rant done.
i've been, in my efforts to look after myself better, very good about eating healthy and eating low fat and not eating anything i'm allergic to. usually my diet is varied enough and interesting enough that i don't feel *deprived* in any way. today, though, i feel deprived. i think it's a combination of the utes and working really closely with mr. m on a project for the last couple of days (we won't get into my pathological need to do a better-than-excellent job and win his approval) but i feel... lacking. deprived - of human contact, of fun food, of something. and it's not like i haven't had a delightful social schedule the last couple of days - i spent most of sunday/monday with my sister (yay! sister!), had a thoroughly enjoyable meal with maktaaq last night, and had nice early morning chats with newly and lemon-love-of-my-life today. the raspberry just isn't feeling her perky self, kids. she needs a little love.
plus, now i feel sort of guilty 'cause, as i've been sitting here writing this, i've consumed half of a dark chocolate lindt wafer bar - one of the big ones, too. hmpfh.
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