violent knight at the edge of your knife

sweet mother of god it's winter. all of a sudden it's winter. i've got my heater cranked at my feet, i wore a scarf and gloves with my down vest this morning, and my fingers have that stiff 'don't remember how to work' feeling. mind you, our office air conditioning still thinks it is +22 outside, and is merrily pumping cold air down onto my head, but whatevs.

i managed to offend one of my colleagues thursday, by not telling her what i was doing, when i was finishing a fun project for my boss. the air emanating from her section of the office is, believe it or not, colder than that coming from the vents. shocking, i know, but there it is. le sigh. each day that passes leaves me less patience for moody coworkers. fucking deal with it or go back to highschool.

moving on....

this weekend the architect, the sister, and i went to look at a main floor suite. it was advertised as a 'newly renovated' (meaning since the house was built back in the late 60s) 3-bedroom. the first bedroom was about the same size as my closet. the second was slightly bigger, and the 'big' bedroom about half the size of mine.

the piece de resistance, though, was the "bathtub". if i'd pulled my knees up to my chest, i could have fit into the 'tub', and even had water covering me up to (approximately) my hips. the uniqueness of this 'tub' was nearly enough to make me sign a lease then and there, but the sheer wonder of it was mitigated by the lack of closet space.

le sigh.

the hunt continues....

arg

so for two mornings now i've tried to log into blogger and been denied denied denied. bastard bitch blogger blowhard.

bugger.

so anyhoo... it's been forever since i've been here, and i apologize. things are happening. the architect and i are planning on cohabitating. this is exciting to me. it scares the *SHIT* out of me, but it is exciting... we've more or less been spending all of our non-work time together for the past month anyway. it's not too much of a stretch to go all the way. he gets along with the kiddo, the sister thinks he's great, and my mom seems to like him lots, as well, so there's that.

plus he actually owns furniture. praise the lord halleluiah amen.

OH K-Lo i apologize for no pictures, but the blogger thing has pissed me off royally - i'll get some up this weekend, i promise :) in the meantime, here is one of the architect being naughty. he gave me permission to put it up - i think he wanted to represent... ahh fuck forget it. i still can't post pictures. will keep trying....

don't you don't you want to thrill me

so i just spent two days in a seattle hotel room with a hot tub, the architect, and a vinyl nurse outfit.

i got spoiled - by the city, the hotel, the weather, the nurse outfit, and by the architect. it was quite honestly one of the best weekends i've ever had. we went for dinner at a can-can caberet, fucked till we were both shaking and sore, shopped till we dropped, and drank wine smuggled in a plastic water bottle from plastic cups watching the sunset down by pike's place market.

le sigh. i'll try and put up some pictures later...

the hardest button to button

so one of the things i like about firefox is that i can have tabs as my homepage. i have it set up differently for angus macintoy and for chuck, my work laptop. On angus, it loads my blog as a tab, but not on chuck.

anyway.... this morning while i was in the shower the architect loaded firefox on angus so he could check his mail and keep up to date on the ongoing soap opera which is the international motorcycle racing circuit. my blog came up. he read the last post (i'd told him before that it existed and that he was welcome to read it if he should so desire. he's never done it).

when i got out of the shower, i went upstairs, poured two cups of coffee, came back down and handed him one. he told me that he read it. i almost dropped my coffee. he said it was good, 'cause he's been thinking the same thing. he said 'i promise to stick around if you do.' i made him pinky swear. he told me a bit about why he was afraid, too. it was good.

oh plus he woke me up for sex.

oh plus on the way to work he got me that super cute mug at tenbucks.

we like him.

my blood before me begs me

i am here writes: First, tell us why you are feeling this way. Are you scared of being hurt? What may happen? You do really like him don't you? Maybe talk to him about it. What are you afraid of?

why am i feeling this way? he says it has been a long time since he loved someone. he says he doesn't know what it feels like. he's not sure how he feels about me, 'cause he doesn't know what he's feeling.

am i scared of being hurt? of course. what may happen? he may decide he doesn't want me - that what he's feeling isn't anything more than lust or sex or infatuation and he'll run away. i'll fuck it up - say something or do something like i always do and he'll give me a look that says he doesn't know me at all and turn his back.

i really like him don't i? o yes.

maybe talk to him about it. i could. i have, kind of. i don't know.

what am i afraid of? that i'll lose the coolest person i've met in.. maybe forever. that i'll disappoint him. that i'll fuck it up, like i always do.

you bring the discrepancies, i'll pour the drinks

two things have happened since i got home from work. not *directly to* me, but around me.

1) a good friend is splitting up with her husband. well, technically, he left her for someone else. they'd decided to try and co-parent. she found out today that, because she makes more money than he does, she has to pay *him* child support because he has their son half the time. he left her for someone else, and she has to give him money. fuck.

2) i was poking through my blogroll and hit one of mike's links - the one for his travel blog. i guess the girl he *hasn't* been dating is going to antarctica with him. he hasn't contacted me in weeks. i tried to keep up with him via emails etc, but he has initiated nothing. the last time i heard from him was when i invited him for a port and chocolate night, and he sent me a one sentence response saying he was busy. i guess three years of my friendship can be dismissed in a sentence. cool.

these two things are kinda swirling around in my head tonight, along with my freakout over the architect. it's making me want to throw myself into something - into a beat into a bottle into some pills. i have that tight feeling in my arms... as if someone is holding me down, stopping me from moving forward. the panic is bubbling up in my belly climbing up up up past my heart, into my throat, mouth getting dry eyes starting to water skin of my skull getting tight. i need to explode burst free from my corpse and leave it all behind me.

bon appetit you've eaten me alive you realize

ay caramba just had a flash that i was maybe getting myself over my head with this architect fellow. translation - i'm freaking out and thinking maybe i should run away run away. it's not too late, little raspberry, you can still cut and run, emerge (mostly) unscathed... un scathed un harmed un hinged un heartbroken.

what to do?

third world war third round

in which raspberry sundae embarks upon an unresearched women's studies 100-esque rant based exclusively upon conjecture and colloquial evidence about the worst drivers on the road. if you have a penis, feel free to read on, but don't be surprised to find broad sweeping generalisations and/or stereotypes fabricated from the ether.

since the beginning of time, there have been differences between men and women.* one of those differences is, of course, expectation of dominion over the immediate (and not so immediate) area.

wtf? you may be thinking? well, i think that millenia of expecting to be treated as superior to women and all other beings have rendered men (specifically men between the ages of 40 - 60) as asshole drivers. drivers of this age group have an unfounded sense that they have dominion over the roads - they drive agressively; don't like to allow people in at merge situations, and honk their horns like fucking jerks if you dare to try and join the flow of traffic in front of them. 75$ of dangerous drivers i have experienced in the past 4 years have been men that fell within this age group - including the two this morning.

news flash, fuckers: if cars are trying to get into your lane and you don't let them you are a) potentially causing accidents and b) absolutely causing traffic snarl ups behind them as they have to slam on their brakes to avoid being hit. second news flash, jerkoffs: you know how when you approach the tunnel and there is hundreds of cars trying to merge into two lanes? fucking move over so that you aren't in the lane they are all trying to get into. if a driver attempts to merge (safely and legally, by the way) in front of you, don't speed up and lay on your horn. MOVE THE FUCK OVER or LET THEM IN.

good luck and good night.











* when i was teaching i used to give out a handout listing 'sentences that would earn you an automatic F on your paper. this was one of them.

route de la slack

ok so it's day two of my three day weekend. i've used the time thus far to see the herbaliser (pretty good), go to the burlesque studio afterparty (frickin' great), take some drugs, drink some beer, not sleep, have sex, go for brunch, go to ikea (the architect bought a fuzzy blanket for me to curl up with when visiting him), watch ufc with the architect, the sister, kiddo & the gang, drink more beer, get to bed early, wake up, make coffee, pancakes (two kinds - blueberry & choc. chip) and bacon for breakfast, organise my itunes, download some music, and laze about. not to bad, so far, i'd say...

today i'm taking the kid to see the trailer park boys, then the sister, the architect, the boss and i are going to hit up the noodle box and then see kasabian at the commodore. this weekend is shaping up to be... monumental. i'm feeling pleased with myself, to say the least.

at breakfast this morning we all sat around the table chatting and eating. it was like family breakfast, complete with the grumpy teenager who could only be coaxed out of bed via the 'wave the bacon under the nose' method. i, of course, currently smell like bacon, which grosses me out, but i'll live, i guess.

so next weekend we are going to seattle to go shopping and have dirty monkey hotel sex. how fun is that? oh and drink wine in the hotel wine bar. can't forget that. anyone out there who knows of fun (you know what i like) nightlife or shopping in seattle? i have never been there for more than a couple of hours, and so know the nordstrom shoe department, but that's about the extent of it. lame, i know, but there it is.

i'd like suggestions, if you have any. i found online a can-can restaurant with nightly revues, so i think that we are going there for dinner (i'm excited, the architect is accomodating), but the night is long when you are young(ish), cute, and not dead broke (not me, i'm always broke. him)

born to blossom bloom to perish

raspberry's friday list of random facts

1. tonight i go see the herbaliser
2. i cancelled my hair appointment for tomorrow
3. i rescheduled it for 3 weeks before my christmas party
4. i'm feeling lazy today
5. pink m&m's have no calories, because when you eat them you are helping to fight breast cancer
6. any chocolate consumed between american thanksgiving and twelfth night has no calories or fat, because it is magic christmas chocolate
7. people who don't celebrate christmas are exempt from that rule
8. the architect is no longer coming to colorado with me. i will be flying solo. anyone who knows of fun things to do in colorado springs should call me asap.
9. ridley wrote me a letter
10. i don't know what to be for hallowe'en

ain't no sex on the radio

is that a real lyric? i don't even know this morning. i look hot in an eighties markie post kinda way, today. i have on this great bat wing black shirt and grey pencil skirt (courtesy of valoo veelage) and new black knee high boots (courtesy the architect). or maybe only i think i look hot, but sheet that's half the battle, right? riiigghhhtttt.

i recall one day a (pretty much former) friend told me that the reason guys don't like me is 'cause i'm too 'styley'. i never did figure out what that meant. i dress well so men won't find me attractive? seemed fishy, to me.

-------------------------------------------
edit:

ha whoops i forgot that i had this open, got distracted by work, and totally abandoned it. it's now almost ten am... such a spaz.

black cats, red dogs, breakfast

so i really want to go to the billy talent/antiflag/moneen show, but i fear that i might be too old.

why do i think this? well, 'cause i'm not sure that any of my friends would want to go (the architect notwithstanding - he'd probably do it if i really wanted to, but whether or not he WANTS to is another issue). as well, the thought of being surrounded by 10,000 angst ridden teenagers hurts me inside.

at what point do you become to old for punk (even pop-punk) shows? ever? i didn't go to rancid, bad religion, or alexisonfire for pretty much the same reasons. (as an aside, i picked the kiddo up after the alexisonfire show, and was reminded of why i didn't accompany him - horde after horde of pubescent boys roving commercial drive in beer-and-weed fueled packs...)

maybe it's around about the same time that you find yourself struggling to complete your performance self-appraisal. i'm having a bitch of a time with it, because the first section asks me to list my key performance factors, then rate my acheivement of these objectives. since i don't really have a formal job description (we joke that it would just say 'other duties as required') i'm having trouble figuring out whether or not i've managed to acheive my fiscal objectives.

le sigh.

as another side note, guess which super lucky sundae is getting her very own ohmibod? i haven't got much experience with power tools - in fact, up until saturday (ha, yup. this sundae girl received a "cordless personal massager with infrared heat" as well as a pair of super-hot black boots as prezents this weekend) i'd never owned one. the thought of making playlists designed to get me off as quickly or as slowly or as intensly as i feel like is just fucking awesome. as is the thought that the architect ordered it for me. on friday. while we were getting drunk on (rather decent) red wine with my boss. MY BOSS.

ha that rocks.

from the wine guru

at more is less... the pitchfork review of the new jet album: click this shit

heh.

one guy's wasted and the other's a waste

ok so i'm really glad that i have a long weekend again *next* weekend, 'cause i need it to recover from *this* weekend. saturday we went to see that body world thingy at science world - it's really cool. if you are in or around the vancouver (or the coat) area, you should really check it out. i found it very humbling, and very, in a way, humanizing. there's really no way to be deluded into believing that you are in anyway better than or superior to anyone else once you spend an afternoon in the company of bodies with their skin removed.

sunday was another massive thanksgiving dinner - i tried to keep it under ten this year - really really i did. ended up with thirteen regardless, and made massive amounts of food, including homemeade lamb sausage rolls, brie in puffpastry, and all sorts of other yummy goodies. arg i'm tired just thinking about it. i basically cooked for 12 hours on sunday.

friday night we are going to see the sweet soul burlesque cabaret with the herbaliser, and sunday is kasabian. next weekend we go to seattle for our 'romance package' weekend away (the architect cringes every time he says that). one of these weekends i might actually get some rest...

so one of my colleagues has changed her hours so that she comes in about the same time as i do. normally this wouldn't bother me too much, except that she tends to spend the first half an hour she's here talking about well, let's not kid, nothing in particular. maybe this is what that chick meant when she said that i didn't know how to be a friend to women - i just can't handle the maintenance niceties. i will talk to you about my day and my weekend, but later - after i've had a chance to drink my coffee, check to see what's happening in the outside world, settle in. i can't do the after work phone calls to see if you are ok. i don't really care too much about your personal dramas, or the chaos your cats caused this morning, or blah blah blah. actually, no - that's not completely true. i DO care - i just want to hear broad strokes, not every single detail, and i don't need 20minutes of buildup. i'm a smart girl. i catch on pretty quickly.

hm. it appears that i may be a touch grumpy, this morning. interesting.

crap i forgot my mobile at home. shit. shocking, i know, to think that i've forgotten something....

i see you baby

so last night, as i was washing dishes, the architect decided that it would be great fun to haul down my skirt, cover my ass with bubbles, and take a picture. le sigh. i'm just glad the kiddo had to work. can you imagine *that* conversation?

strap on my ear goggles and i'm ready to go

the architect hung out at my house yesterday 'cause my car is acting up so he was taking a look at it. he was hanging out in my room surfing the net when the kiddo got himself up for school, and commented on the wide variety of music emanating (at some god-forsaken decible, i'm sure) from his bedroom. i kinda take that as a compliment - i think it's because he's always been exposed to such a vast range of musical styles that he can flip from tek to deathmetal to new metal to hip hop to acoustic college alt-rock to post rock within one playlist. mind you, i guess i kinda do the same thing.

for example, here is some stuff i'm listening to lately. not all of it is new, or even recent, but some of it is.

1) essential mix - krafty kuts (broadcast feb 05)
2) route de la slack - swayzak (via recommendation on more is less
3) fabriclive 06 - grooverider
4) tool - 10000 days
5) fabriclive 28 - evil nine
6) rinocerose - schizophonia (you know - that cubicle song from the ipod commercial)
7) the be good tanyas - chinatown

one of my favourite things about the internet is that i can hear something, get online, and find tonnes more stuff by that artist, or similar to that artist, or completely opposite from that artist, with a few mouseclicks. or, for example, ask 'what're you guys listening to?' and get a whole bunch of stuff i would have probably never heard of otherwise.

so, 'what're you guys listening to?'


=) xoxo

The radical reconstruction of the south after the Civil War was neither radical nor a reconstruction. Discuss

so i spent the weekend helping the architect move, 'cause i'm a sweet raspberry and, if you ask me to, i'll do such things for you. heck even if you *don't* ask i'll usually do them, 'cause that's how i roll.

so anyway, on friday i quietly (or not so quietly 'cause i'm not the most mousey of characters) i worked my way through a bottle of wine and packed his kitchen for him, whilst clad in a tshirt and a thong. how many men get to say that? prolly not too many out there. saturday we moved his crapola, and sunday was a day of rest amen.

now, as is the case when anyone moves, once he was in he realized there was a bunch of crap he needed - hardware stuff. so after dinner on sunday, we pottered off to home depot to pick up a few things. now it must have been four, maybe five hours since we'd had sex so i was clearly all worked up and ready to go again. what to do, seeing as how we are in a hardware store? why handicapped bathroom, of course.

the architect is not as .. er .. well versed in displays of semi-public lewdness as i am. (i'm not sure if that's a sad statement of his past, or mine, but that's a topic for another day.) so anyway, we're in, door's locked, and i've got him pushed up against the wall, cock in my mouth. he's lovingit, naturally. then, over the loudspeaker, comes this booming heavily accented highly pitched female voice. i guess home depot closes at 8pm on sundays. who knew?

well, no worries - it's just a quickie anyway. i soldier on.

well, that is, until linda richman decides to park herself outside the bathroom door and complain bitterly about ... to be honest with you i have no fucking idea 'cause i couldn't actually hear *what* she was saying over the shrieking. i mean, buttah, her voice was. ahem. in my head i'm praying 'just shut up - only ten minutes - just shut up'. the architect, however, lost his focus. poor fellow. he may never again be able to look at another handicapped washroom without doubting his manhood.