you think you know a lot about my kinda woman

stinkin spo. if he weren't so cute and have such interesting threesome stories, i'd probably be way more irritated that he tagged me to play this game.

eight things you don't know about me

1. last thursday was the first morning i've ever woke up and got ready for work at someone else's house. this morning was the second.
   
2. when i was six, a boy was teasing me on the jungle gym so i shoved him and he fell off and broke his arm.
   
3. i have a tiny little scar on the bottom of my belly button from where i had my tubes tied.
   
4. about four years ago, i tried to eat one of those faux-steak vegetarian meat replacement things. it was so foul i vomitted, and can - to this day - feel the texture of it in my mouth. it still makes me want to gag.
   
5. every month i have a little panic that i might be pregnant - even when i'm not late - although this is 99.99999% impossible.
   
6. when i am sad i sleep curled up with a small blue teddybear. her name is beebee (blue bear).
   
7. i am secretly afraid that i am a very bad cook and that everyone i know is just humouring me by eating what i prepare.
   
8. when i was in grade six a girl in my class pretended to perform fellatio (using a ruler) on the singer from def leppard. i was convinced, for about four months, that the male penis was actually about that big, and was terrified of the thought of losing my virginity. clearly i've over come that.
   

i tag foxxy, ben, jen, b, sass, and K-Lo (you can just use comments...)

oh and pretty please let me know if/when you put them up so i can see!

here the drummer get wicked

so the architect gets back from his trip tonight. i have to pick him up at the airport and relinquish his car. what do you think my chances are of convincing him to swap me his A4 for my green piece o'shit mobile?

heh. yeah i didn't think so.

dammit. i've gotten used to cruising around in style. that thing corners like nobodies business. rawwrrrrrrr.

anyhoo - i got nothin'. it was all hot & sticky (and not in the good way) last night when i was trying to sleep, so i just couldn't drift off to save my life. ergo, i totally slept in and had to rush rush rush to get here this morning. thank god the car has wings.

shh don't tell him i said that.

regardless, my brain is fuzzy and my eye is all red and puffy in allergesque ugliness. that said, since posting my last entry, and reading ridley's comment, i've been thinking. ergo, i have questions for you.

1) what city do you live in?
2) do you live *in* the city or in a suburb?
3) population?
4) what is your favourite thing about your city?
5) least favourite?
6) favourite place to eat?
7) favourite place to go out? (entertainment venue)
8) favourite thing to do with visitors from other places?
9) anything else notably good or bad or just distinctive about the place you live?

a song for many seasons, i got so many reasons

ok so i have recently discovered the music of dj champion. plebian name aside, the cd (chill 'em all) kinda kicks some ass. the radio single 'no heaven' is wicked fun driving music, the rest of the disc vaccilates between groovy downtempo and jazzy upbeats, and it makes my little pink heart pit-a-pat.

this is a good thing.

so yesterday was the kiddo's birthday, and it coincided with my brother's last day living on the west coast. my mama cooked a huge dinner, and we had ice cream cake (for the kiddo) and i baked a vegan chocolate cake for me. a vegan chocolate cake with chocolate, raspberry and kalhua frosting. yum. i had to restrain myself from licking the bowl clean -soooo good.

i had been exchanging text messages with the architect all day. after dinner i sent him a quick one describing the chocolatey goodness which was the cake, and saying i'd save him a piece (tupperwared, in the freezer for freshness even as we speak), and that i had a fun new cd (the aforementioned championship dj). he responded saying that he was looking forward to 'cake n music n my hottie'. le sigh.

ok i'll stop making you vomit now.

in other news....

matt good is in the process of saying goodbye to vancouver. in the process, he has written a fairly scathing, yet charactaristically astute, assessment of vancouver as a city. as an outsider, here, i have regularly observed (and reflected upon, here) the emptiness of the interactions you have with this place, as a city. it is difficult to develop and maintain relationships with people who are from this place - the majority of my friends are from elsewhere. actually, i cannot think of anyone that i regularly spend time with who is actually *from* vancouver. moreover, i find that the city itself has developed a protective shellac - shiny on the surface but nearly impervious to any kind of penetration. it has become one of those vacuous, well groomed, gucci-toting new money socialites that preen and pose on every street corner. last thursday we were up in whistler for a mb race. the architect and i joined his sister and her boyfriend at the afterparty. now whistler is an interesting society, itself. you have a crazy cross section of society - the very rich walk the streets alongside minimum wage ski bums living four people to a bedroom in order to be able to afford to take on the mountain all season long. this event was no different. whistler is small enough, still, that if you belong to a club, you belong to the same club as everyone in whistler - there is no socioeconomic breakdown to its groups. i felt right at home because it reminded me of participating in events with the running and track clubs in prince george - the *entire* community participates, not just a portion of it.

living in vancouver is like going to highschool again. the geeks can't hang with the cool kids. the theatre geeks avoid the jocks. the burnouts hide behind the gym, and the cheerleaders stalk the hallways as though they own them.

i love the amenities of the big city - i love the concerts, the plays, the restaurants, the shopping. i hate the sterile exclusivity that seems to go along with it, here. i'm just not shallow enough, i guess, to be happy with paying that price.

forever feels like home

i have that new stonesour song stuck in my head: i'm looking at you through the glass don't know how much time has passed all i know is that it feels like forever and no-one ever told me that forever feels like home sitting all alone inside your head cause i'm looking at you through the glass....

simplistic, i know, but i think what really appeals to me is the child-like round robin way that the lyrics are structured. i'm always impressed when people are able to convey complex emotions in just a few words. i always seem to yammer onandon.

not that you would have noticed.

ahem.

anyhoo.

now i have a tendency to date men who don't usually think about me much beyond the head of their penises. er, that doesn't seem right. penii? what is the correct plural of penis? ah fuck it.

i have a tendency to date men who don't usually think about me much beyond the head of their dicks. so this whole spending time with someone who respects me, cares about my well being, and actually thinks about me when i'm not around is quite novel - a little alarming on occasion (that's my committment phobic panicked side speaking) but really really wonderful feeling the rest of the time. like how he text'd me in between flights yesterday, and as soon as he arrived 'cause he knows that i worry 'bout stuff. and how, when the airline forgot to charge him oversized fees for his bike, his reaction was more money to buy presents for me..

it's cool 'cause that's how i think - that's the way i am when i'm with someone i like. it's fun to have someone else think that way too, but about me for a change, you know?

when the city lights, fading

hi!
it's 5.45.
i've been at work for half an hour already.
yes indeed, that IS 5.45AM. my eyes feel like someone took steel wool to them and proceeded to scrub vigorously.

i'm feeling contemplative, yet not awake enough to verbalize what i'm thinking and feeling. i drove the architect to the airport this morning (he's going to the US to do a mountain bike race). halfway there i caught him watching me, smiling slightly. "what?" i asked. "nothin'. just lookin'." with which he smiled wider and turned his eyes to the road. (good frickin' thing, too. considering it was 4.30AM there were a LOT of cars out. and cops. why in gods name are cops busting people for speeding at 4.30AM? leave us alone! we're tired and we want to be asleep)

ahem.

anyhoo.

i do actually have a tonne of work to do, so it may be good that i'm here so early. this way i can take off a little earlier, beat the rush, and get to bed at a decent hour. though i did wake up this morning convinced it was friday. le sigh.

i'm getting fat. the architect insists on feeding me. and he buys me chocolate for presents. and he stops for gelato any time i mention it. for gods' sake ONE of us needs to get some self restraint and i think we can all be assured that i'm NOT the best candidate for that particular position...


**edit**
i'm gonna hit 50K today. i think that's neeto.

you musta been so high

fyi - i missed tool last night. this makes me a sad sundae.
also - the architect is going away for the weekend. i was invited, but my boss (delightful as she is) would have had kittens if i asked for more time off, i'm sure.

though perhaps that isn't a bad thing, seeing as how every time you masturbate god kills a kitten.

vengeful bastard.

hang on - coffee.

i stayed at the architect's place last night. he tends to keep me up late and i have to get up earlier when i'm there, so i 'm a little sleepy this morning. plus he's training for a huge bike race that he's doing down in the states on the weekend, which involves carbo loading, so he was feeding me pasta at like 10pm last night. my pooooooor waistline. (yes, yes i know. he wasn't twisting my arm, but really, come on now, who can say no to that spicy tomatoey, peppery goodness? not i said the fly...) tomorrow will be worse as i am running him to the airport and he needs to be there by 4.45 or something sick. all i can say is that i'm glad some indiginous people somewhere invented the glory and goodness which is coffee.

anyhoooo i've taken on some fun (well for me anyway) new responsibilities here at work - i'm trying to get some more operations management skills, cause that's the part of things i am really enjoying - and so i'd better get crackin'.

xo

drive like an asshole day

seriously - did i miss a memo or something? everywhere i look people are cutting folks off, weaving in and out of traffic, laying on the horn (ok that was me, but that mo-fo almost KILLED me i swear!). dude decided to go as far as he could up a lane that was ending, then fully cut over without slowing down. cut into the lane i was in. cut into the lane not *in front* of me (as i was over 3/4 of the way up his car when he decided to accomplish this manouever), but essentially force me to slam on my brakes, swerve to the right and get the fuck out of his way so he could continue as though i'd never even been there.

fucker.

anyhoo... i dl'd the new kasabian album last night. i've listened to about half. the jury's still out, so far. first song kicks bum, but then there's a couple in a row where i'm thinking 'who ARE you? the arctic monkeys redux?'

i'll let you know....

a polyphonic prostitute, the motor's on fire

ok so i'm trying to come up with some witty way to sum up the last week or so. sadly, i'm having a bad food life and it's harshing my mellow.

ergo, i'm going to steal from peechie.

• approx. km driven: 1520
  
• approx. km driven by me: 0
  
• mountain ranges visited: 4 (coast, monashee, purcell, selkirk)
  
• illegal drugs taken: lots
  
• presription drugs taken: none (ironically enough, i decided to take a drug vacation. god i rock.)
  
• hours of sleep missed: most of 'em. god bless shambhala.
  
• gelato flavours eaten: 4 (strawberry, blood orange, raspberry, double chocolate)
  
• kick ass desserts prepared: 1 (bbq peaches with maple mascerated strawberries, organic vanilla ice cream, and a vanilla-balsamic reduction)
  
• fun b-day gifts received: lots (chapters gcs; neat bikini line exfoliater; 4gig ipod nano; fun pottery; girl guide cookies (the fun minty ones); flowers; more stuff i can't think of at the moment...)
  
• meals vomitted: about 57%
  
• naked hippies gawked at: innumerable
  
• level of delight experienced upon realizing that supernatural is back on tuesdays: we're talking everest scale, here, kids....

dear bloggity

ok so it's kind of scary how easy it is for you to ignore me. you haven't called, haven't written. we've only spent a very short while together this week and all i get from you is... well, fuckinell, nothing. not a thing. i'm a little hurt, i'll admit it.

also, i have a serious case of the 'guilties' for neglecting you, sweet bloggity. i know, i know, my absence this week is a poor excuse. i just haven't been around too much. after shambhala i was pretty much home one night then threw myself back into holidaying... did the birthday festivities, then sort of just hung out, went to movies, sat at the beach, and went to whistler for a few days. my pets are neglected, too, little blog, and i have officially killed my jasmine plant - it's toast, dunzo, deceased, officially gone towards the light, this time. i don't think that even with my magic fingers i will be able to bring it back to life this time.

now by bringing this up i'm not trying to do anything stupid, like break up with you, or start you thinking about breaking up with me. all i'm trying to do is say that maybe, just maybe, we need to stop taking each other for granted a little. we need to start appreciating each other - we both know how important we are to each other.

ps - i would feel more guilty, but i just went to visit tony's blog and it told me that the blogfather, tony pierce himself, has not made sweet blog love to it since thursday.

pps - i took a picture for you, little blog. ok it's actually for the person who reads this sometimes - he wanted to see what i looked like at that *exact* moment, so i took the picture. but i'm sharing it with you, ok?

can't talk now with a mouth full of love

hey motherfuckers it's my birthday.
tonight i go to rime. 7.30 pm. if you want to come, call them and add yourself to the reservation for 15. i'm cool with it. it's under my real name though so you may want to check with me previous to it.

the architect is on a mad quest across vancouver trying to find me a vegan chocolate birthday cake. how sweet is he? (whoops he doesn't want to be sweet. he said guys like to be rough and edgy. my bad.)

i have a bunch of pictures, but blogger is sucking the icy tit and not letting me upload them. i'll have to go the buzznet route later, but right now i'm drinking coffee and being lazy and i don't feel like it.

it's my birthday and i'll tell blogger to fuck right off if i want to.

so there.

j-mo, you are a lazy ass. what's up with the no post?
i want more details from spo, by the way...

other than that, i'll leave the judging up to you. go for it kids, who wins the blogger royale?

more importantly, what's on the menu for ME today?

The Return of Don Ciavarro

I smell like ass.

Thousands of empty beer cans are masking the true nature of my odour.

So, compared to them, I smell like John Gotti.

The Don is back.

Don Ciavarro.

He's come to make you an offer you can't refuse.

...

Someone. Clean my fucking house.

Scrub my balls for Christ sake.

Two balls for the two bit hack I am. I am not sing song. I am barely literate.

I take bad photos that make my writing look decent.

I am terrible at blogging.

But.

I'm awesome at being me.

Plus I have a shiny car.



It's all I have to give.

Someone needs to start a fire right here

Holy fuck spo, I don't even know where to begin to even try to top that. Even the bolded red sentences were top notch. The only way to top that is start with a truthful story about the time I got high in Amsterdam and then somehow involve ninjas in it, and maybe something to do with the red-light district. Prosty-ninjas. Ok let's begin:

This is about my third night in Amsterdam and I haven't gotten high yet and I'm becoming really pissed off because the person I chose to go with was not interested in "doing fun things."Like come the fuck on. When you go to Paris, do you not go to the Eiffel Tower? When you go to Italy, do you not go see the Leaning Power of Pisa? We're in Amsterdam, so why are we not getting high?! But my luck was changing because my hippy roommates were on thier way too, and I know what they wanted.

So I said to Tammy my boring travelmate (she wanted to see the fucking HEMP museum, the Hemp museum for fuck sakes), "ok listen, I have to see my roomies for at least one night, go do something else ok?"
"OK!"
Awesome, so I met them at the Dam square where there was a carnival, I was a little late and half way to apologizing when I saw them just staring at the carnival with huge smiles on thier faces. My lateness did not affect thier mood whatsoever. "Soooo..",I begin "what are we gonna do?" and I hoped it wasn't to get some waffles and find the nearest museum.
"Let's go get high" Danny said and Carole nodded. I could not have been happier. In my mind I was like "fucking FINALLY!" So we headed to a Coffee shop close to one of the many bridges in the middle of Amsterdam. Went inside, there was three other people in there, one guy outside reading and relaxing with a medium size toke. And two people who were just leaving. Danny then ordered the round.
Rolled it up perfectly,
Made it correctly,
Lit it correctly,
and passed it around with the class of a gentleman.
Some people can solve complex mathematical equations. Danny can roll up the perfect joint. Anyways, it didn't take long to hit me and the sensation I felt was nothing the pot that I ever got in Canada gave me. I don't know if it might've been laced with something, (I doubt it, because I'm sure these coffee shops have some sort of laws against it or something...hey it's a business too ok?), but everything in my peripheral vision started to bump to the bass of the reggae playing. , and then we started playing cards for a bit, I have no idea what we played but I know I won a couple of rounds. And the shit just kept going and going and going. I looked around and I saw the dude who was outside with the toke, completely passed out, ready to die on the table. The dude from the coffee shop had to get him up and at em, and out of here. Bad for business. He was mumbling something like "I know how it is, you guys come to Amsterdam and can't take it." So we had to look right then, we had to take it. So we had to get the fuck out of there, that we did.

We walked to some streets here and there, really just moving. We arrived somehow back to the Dam square, before I saw a waffle stand and I got some of the best things I have ever tasted in the world. I don't know what it was, but it was delicious. Then had a blissful 15 mins staring at the lights in the carnival.

Danny and Carole left back to thier hotel, and I was going back to my hostel. But I was still in a state of high and I was just smiling and staring at everything in sight. My hostel was across from the red light district, so I had to cross it. That wasn't such a good idea, because in my state, red lights and half naked women(?) didn't work out well. So I had a lot of pimps shouting at me, "Hey AMERICAAAN" or "SHE LOOKS GOOD NO?" or "ONLY 100 EUROS!" and I'm sure one of them was damn close to making a deal with me while I was walking away because he creeped me out. Dude, I was this close to being stuck with I'm sure an ugly ass Dutch prostitute. This was also 3am, and I was being approached by other non licensed prostitutes too. And I'm not sure they were women.

So I curled up in a little ball in the middle of the bridge and prayed for the night to be over, that's when a friendly Ninja named Goju said "You're lost, you need help" and I nodded. So he shot one of those things to scale buildings and took me with him. He figured out where my hostel was and led me to my room where he then took off his mask and he was actually a SHE. And SHE was actually fucking hot! (Holy Metroid!) My mouth gaped, and then she said "I have been watching you from afar, I have been waiting for a chance to be with you"
"Are we about to get it on?" I asked
"We already have" and then left through the window. I never saw her again.

The lesson is the same that the guy from the coffeeshop said when I left it, "Enjoy, have fun, and don't get too hiiiiiiigh"

Night on earth.....

Hi there - during her abscence Raspberry kindly invited posts from myself and fellow saints J-mo, Ridley and Ciavarro to keep her amused upon retrun - coming up with a theme that will allow the others to follow - well I'm first up it seems and here to tell the tale of a night on earth not easy to forget - sorry it's long, but the night was eventful and once you get writing sometimes it's hard to stop, right?:

“Tonight we show you one side of Moscow and then tomorrow Andrey will join you again but this time with his girl-friend and they will show you another side of Moscow”

.

Ok, so you guys show me around tonight then tomorrow I sense there is a change of pace and I act all respectable - what are we going to do?

.

Well maybe tomorrow you will do some things that when you go back to your people you can say that you educated yourself about Russian Artistic history, sampled it’s fine dining, visited it’s many places of cultural and political importance and then that you went to the Opera and how it was so very great and so very moving – people will think that you have really taken many good memories from this city.

.

Sounds like a plan – how about tonight?
.
Tonight well…. tonight you will see – but one thing I can assure you – there will be vodka

.

Flat out fucking fantastic Vladi – say “Do'svidaniya” to our souls – and get well and truly motherless

.

Motherless?

.

Yeah – so badly behaved, you could be no mothers son.

.

I’m a T taster by trade and I travel a lot with the work I do – I’ve been lucky and privileged enough to end up in all manner of strange corners of the globe from Peshawar in Pakistan to Vinh city in Vietnam – sampled the delights of Dubai and drank the all night juice of Jakarta – but one place that always stands out is Moscow – Those Russians…. Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi….. Those Russians…..

.

The main things I initially remember noticing about the city where the wide open roads like airport runways, the expansive grey concrete buildings mixed with the colourful outlandish architecture of red square, the evening obsession with hanging fairy lights from everything, the unintelligible alphabet on all the signs and bare assed monkey nut cold weather – however these where not the lasting impressions Moscow sent me away with – no, the memories where much warmer – if a little hazy.....

.

That evening would be my first big night out in the city - there where four of us – myself, Vladi – (bout 35ish meek and quietly spoken most of the time but a sharp mind, keen eye and always looking on the humorous side of life) Andrey, (bout 28ish, determined, ambitious, snowboarding brother from another mother who would die for his friends) and a feisty Chief Chirpa looking fellow named Mikhail who seemed to have an insatiable appetite for all that isn’t Holy upon this earth.

.

I’m not a religious man – but I’ll bet Mikhail is on his way to hell one day – and he’ll probably enjoy it too – as long as there is vodka - which I imagine there is.

.

The evening started with drinks (vodka) before a visit to a Georgian Restaurant called Pepo – this was like something straight out of Tolkein – seemingly built into a cave with huge wooden beams criss-crossing above these catacomb like enclaves that made up the dining area – you ducked your head as you made your way around – most of the light came from the flaming torches on the walls as waitresses in traditional Georgian dress served up meat, meat and more meat – all carved off huge skewers at your table.

.

Cossack dancers span around in the background and they had a band singing traditional Georgian and Russian songs – emotive and boisterous and sung at full volume – the diners join in – especially when they sing something from someone’s home town – as they did for Andrey – boy sang his god damn heart out – standing on his chair, foot on the table, vodka in hand – tears in his eyes – fanfuckingtastic – Georgians really give it some kick when it comes to representing their village after a skin full of vodka.

.

The Vodka – looked like Smirnoff Black from memory – could have been something much more potent – custom is to take a shot and toast the group every five minutes or so – broken up with bread and meat to soak it up – with the overload of senses due to all the singing, eating, flames and fine female forms, you don’t notice how quick four of you can get through a bottle – Vladi was taking half shots as well “after all – I am driving” – by the end of the meal i don't know how many had been dispensed with, two or three (Mikhail had really jumped things up a notch), but I do know that I was singing loud and proud along with everyone else – surprising how easy it is to start speaking Russian when you are three sheets to the wind and well on the way to being well and truly shit faced.

.

The singing continued as we crammed into Vladi's battered old Nissan and drove to our next destination – round and round the roundabout we went – Vladi was enjoying the singing too much – I was involved as much as anyone – slap your thigh and sound like you are singing backwards at the top of your voice – no problem.

.

Next stop Russian Massage Parlour.

.

And more vodka.

.

We bundled out of the Vladi-mobile and waited in the side street – we seemed to be off the beaten track somewhere, but then again most of Moscow appeared that way to me – very much off the beaten track - Andrey got a nod from a window above and we scurried in out of the cold and up several flights of stairs – the door was opened by a beautiful woman wearing a red satin negligee who beckoned us to follow her through to a small kitchen – I’m thinking definitely not a traditional massage parlour – more like an apartment – more like a…. the penny dropped – and then more similarly scantily clad girls appeared – and then more vodka.
.
The kitchen was rammed with women, drink, song and our debaucherised selves – I was still the right side of ruined but could definitely start to feel myself slipping – a much dirtier version of Sophie Dahl was finely balanced on one knee and we were stumbling through a broken-English-wasted-getting-to-know-you kind of conversation – the statico purr to her voice had my attention and her hands were wandering – I needed to get my game back quickly so decided to try and dodge a few of the vodka toasts that were continuously being raised.

.

Mikhail was boisterous by this point – he had been the fastest drinker, the loudest singer and the most voracious eater of the evening so far and he suddenly announced to me that his time was short so he was “going to go fock and then be leaving to my wife” – pure Borat – and with that he was off into the backrooms with one of the ladies in silk.
.
Things moved to the lounge and then to the bedrooms and jacuzzi’s – I was heading off with the dirty Dahl double but was then joined by another blonde named Eva – I looked over at Vladi who knowingly smiled in approval and raised a toast – that man deserves a motherfucking monument I thought to myself as Eva pulled me into the room, closed the door and delivered a line that really sticks in the memory when spoken with a Russian accent “we will now strip your clothes – prepare yourself” - I left the room an hour and half later feeling pretty damn fine about all there was in the world – a permanent Cheshire-cat-on-coke grin etched across my face for the rest of the evening.

.

An Ewok down due to Mikhail having long absconded, we bundled back in the Vladi-mobile and headed for a casino – after Eva and her friend had said their long goodbyes I was a bit lost for words, but Andrey was still full of life and buzzing – Vladi, as ever, had everything together and was seemingly still as sharp as a shark-tooth – which he needed to be as a problem in the form of the local police suddenly conspired to hinder our journey – Vladi dutifully pulled over – as you do when instructed by someone in uniform carrying a gun – and our exuberance ceased.
.
It was a lot like watching a silent movie as Andrey and I peered through the windscreen - the headlights illuminated the falling snow and the meeting between Vladi and the policeman up front – at first the cop seemed to be explaining reasons, Vladi’s open handed gestures along with a smiling face followed, then the same from the policeman who seemed to be saying nothing while at the same time saying something - Vladi then returned to the passenger side, leaned in to fiddle with the glove box looking for documents, took something from his wallet and returned to hand them over to the uniformed obstacle to the rest of the evenings debauchery – there seemed to be a more light hearted conversation taking place as the doc’s where passed – then there were smiles and a slap on the back from the cop handing Vladi back his documents – Vladi waved him off and returned to us smiling.
.
“No problem – we continue - with wallet a little lighter” he said as he put the Nissan back in drive – “Bribery – Russian style” added Andrey and the evening once again also kicked back into gear.
.
The Casino was a fairly grand affair, as much as I could compare – I’ve never seen Vegas and my experience is limited – but there seemed to be enough well dressed folk surrounded by lights, noise and money to suggest that this was a serious set up – funnily enough I don’t think we really mixed too well with the patrons as we had obviously mixed too well with the vodka - after severely holding up a game of blackjack due to my lack of understanding of both Russian and the rules, I was swiftly lifted of a fair few roubles on the roulette wheel – "Roubles on Red! Shit!" gambling in such circumstances was obviously not working out - we were soon looking for the entrance to the in-house nightclub.

The bouncers took one look at myself and Andrey and decided that entry was simply not going to happen – Vladi didn’t protest too much as I think he kind of agreed with them – Andrey took it badly – as only a drunk man can – the whole world falls apart with one refused entrance – he soon brightened up when Vladi offered an alternative destination “Spearmint Rhino’s is still open…..”

I think it was either 4 or 5am, the night not yet over and all I could think was “Moscow – is there a better night out on this planet?”

got a machinehead (it's better than the rest)

ok kids so here we go.

i'm getting set to spend a total of 18 hours in a car and three days in a tent with someone i don't know that well. sure we get along. sure we affectionately call each other things like freak (him to me), pervert (me to him), hoser (him to me), retard (me to him - he reminds me that it's semi-retard). ah can you feel the love, tonight?

i guess if we can make it there we can make it anywhere, huh?

what to do, what to do. the far away person is having issues with the nearby person. he feels powerless and this is making him jealous. i point out that the distance *is* an issue - whether we want it to be or not. i would not be good with long distance, 'cause the powerless-ness thing would make me crazy. he asks what the architect has that he doesn't. the only answer to that is location, location, location.

well, and the fact that i've got no idea what it would be like to spend a big amount of time in the faraway boy's actual presence. could you do it? could you throw caution to the wind and gamble on a change so big, so earth shattering that, if you did it, nothing would ever be the same again? and keep in mind that this is coming from me - the girl who went camping to the far end of vancouver island for a first date.

the thought of it scares the shit out of me - could i let it all go and just slip into the currents? could you?

this is a throwdown, a showdown

yo this jam is amplified so just glide
and let your backbone slide.

ok so this weekend i'm going to that crazy drug fueled pit of sweet seductive sin known as shambhala. i'm leaving sometime thursday night, and most likely won't be back till monday. that is, of course, if the architect and i can stomach three days in a tent with each other. our first roadtrip. how sweet. heh. let's see,shall we? so what's a girl to do with her blog while she's away? sure j-mo has graciously volunteered to guest blog, and ridley can be counted on to weigh in, but let's see what kind of trouble we can get up to, shall we?

i think so.

here it goes kids. as of 11.59pm PST on thursday, august 10, it is ON.
this is an intercontinental international challenge - spo, malibu j-mo, ridley, and representing the west coast (wess coss mutha humpa) chad ciavarro. the first man to sign in picks the subject. no kiddie porn, no dead bodies (mine or otherwise) and no manatee mating (this means you, chad).

let's see what you got.

any ladies looking to log into this all star blogger weekend? sign up here. you know the drill.

it's gonna get sticky....

bad blogger

fuckinell i just haven't been here since saturday morning. it's not my fault.
i meant to post friday night - really i did, but i fell asleep at nine.30 and didn't wake up till nineam the next day and had to rush out to meet mikeb & the architect for brunch.

yes, i introduced the architect to mikeb.

we haven't had a debriefing, though, so i've no idea what he thought. it seemed to go well - they had stuff in common, and got to talk about me in front of me, which seemed to delight them both.

bastards.

we're going on a roadtrip to shambhala for my bday celebration. yes, i realize that my bday isn't until next tuesday (that'd be a week from tomorrow - seven shopping days, kids), but this will be my party. 'cause heck, why not party with six thousand other people if you get the chance, i figure....

the kiddo is up in peegee for a couple of more weeks.. i haven't actually heard from him barely at all. he called friday night when i was unconcious, and i've text'd him a couple of times, but that's it. le sigh.

ok i've had two glasses of wine and i'm starting to fall asleep. i need to make lists of stuff to bring with me next weekend (thursday night!)...

also - who wants to guest blog? ridley? j-mo? up for another round? anyone else?

open to falling from grace

i like the word opensure. my little brother - he's a smart one, that guy.

i have a dilemma. it involves someone who lives a long long way away - someone who i wish i were closer to, or he were closer to me. he reads this, sometimes. he knows who he is, and he knows what i'm thinking about. i don't want to talk about it too much 'cause then i start to overthink and sometimes just letting things be is the best way to go through life. why stress about something that you can't change, right?

le sigh.

i miss the kiddo.

history unfolds for you.. just shut your eyes

did you know that they opened a new cupcakes place up on broadway? how happy am i? now i don't need to go all the way into the bowels of the west end for a fix.

i introduced the architect to the glory that is cupcakes last night - we'd walked past on our way to the birthday dinner the other evening, but by the time we were on our way back it had already closed. last night i instigated a special trip before we went to watch fireworks. i, of course, had the 'diva', though i was sorely tempted by both the versace (marble cake with chocolate icing and a chocolate button) and the blueberry one.

as we were walking back to his flat i ran into one of TNB's good friends. it was a little awkward, but whatevs. it occurred to me after that i told him to say hello to his old roommate, but forgot to inquire after TNB's health. whoopsies. ah well. as we say in the business, who cares? oh that's not true - i hope he's doing well and that he's gotten over the whole wife cheating on him divorce thing.

i need some sleep tonight. well that's not to say i didn't get sleep last night - i had like 5.5, maybe six hours. i crawled into bed with the architect after the fireworks, closed my eyes, and didn't wake up 'til the alarm went off at 5am. i just need to get to bed really early and sleep straight through till tomorrow morning. i've been almost falling asleep every time i start driving in the last couple of days, and that's not a good thing. it's funny how your brain works though - how you can catch yourself thinking 'just for a minute. what's it going to hurt?'...

ah well - guess i should do some work....

make a mess and fuck all the rest

per wikipedia: "the decompositional perspective towards meaning holds that the meaning of words can be analyzed by defining meaning atoms or primitives, which establish a language of thought."

which is, i realize, some deep thinkin' for first thing on a tuesday morning.

i do, of course, have a point.

last night i went into town to have dinner with the architect and some of his friends. while at the table, his best friend leaned across and inquired "has he asked you to stop seeing other people yet?" to which i said 'no, i sort of did that on my own'. my major issue with the way people do internet dating is that if you were to meet someone at a club, or a party, or wherever, and you were interested in seeing them, you wouldn't be actively pursuing a multitude of other people at the same time. or at least i wouldn't.

so i figured that once we'd gone out four times (and keep in mind that date four was pretty much spending an entire weekend together) i'd just stop *looking* for anyone else. the architect and i were talking about this as we walked home, and i said something about us 'seeing' each other. he corrected me and said we were 'dating'.

to me, 'dating' is something you do when you are interested in seeing more than one person. when you are 'seeing' someone, you are only with them, but would not necessarily consider yourself in a full blown 'relationship'.

so, of course, i puzzled over his phrasing the rest of the way to his house. once we got upstairs, and he had fed me some dark chocolate with raspberries in it, i questioned him on his semantics. i explained my personal definitions, and said that, to me, dating was being with more than one person - sexually or otherwise. he replied that, until he moved here, his definitions were like mine. it's only since he moved here that he's rethought them, as it seems like women in vancouver think the opposite way from me. he said he wasn't interested in seeing other people - just me.

which, of course, i liked.

then, to prove his point, he spread a towel out on the floor and turned me into jello with quite possibly the best massage i've had in years. this, of course, i liked even better.

so, question of the day - what are the levels you pass through when you are 'with' someone? for me it's meeting, dating, seeing, relationship, end (via death of one of the two people or death of the relationship, whichever comes first). am i missing anything? do you have more/less/different stages?