mercredi, mai 25

the eff word

"So anyway, blah blah blah. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know I'm just some random chick you met on the internet, but I hope you think of me as a friend, and know that I'm here for you."

"I do think of you as my friend. That is a fact. I feel like I can trust you, and am totally comfortable talking to you, which is clear because of the nonsense that's come out of my mouth during this conversation".

Vero says I'm just trying to deny my feelings. I don't want to like him, but I do. I know he's hooking up with other people. He's told me. I keep trying to do the same but I just don't want to. I can't help it. I'm distracted, fascinated, overwhelmed by the fact that my face hurts from laughing so much after we spend time together. I hate this. Why can't I just let it be?

samedi, mai 21

the eff?

It's six am. I'm awake. I drank 2+ bottles of wine last night and I'm awake. Plus my facebook account is temporarily unavailable. Maybe the rapture did happen, despite the fact that the BBC is still there? And only Mark Zuckerberg was raptured?


I'm actually supposed to be going hiking with the artist today. Yup, it's a day-date. I mean, we did that other day-date once before where we were supposed to go do fun things in the park and ended up doing a bike pub crawl all over town, but this is kind of the first non-alcohol related thing we've planned.  Even though I might take sangria in my water bottle instead of water, 'cause that's kinda how I roll. I'm not actually sure when we are going, though, 'cause he went all radio silent last night which I guess means he was exercising his right to eff other people, and then sent a cryptic garbled message which kind of made me think that "other people" is actually code for "lots of hallucinogenic drugs". So I'm not sure how to approach it and more importantly I'm not sure whether or not I'm going to get laid.

What I am sure of is that if *he's* effing other people (and when I say "other people" I do mean "other people") then I need to do it too, so I re-activated my OKC account last night and laid a little groundwork for some whoring around. Shit - what if the rapture is yet to come and I just totally blew my chances? God, if you are listening, I didn't mean "whoring around" I meant "meet someone wholesome and saintly and just hold hands across a very wide table until we are united in holy matrimony". Or something.

Fuck thank god - crisis averted. Facebook's back.

samedi, mai 14

it's like the night is taking sides

Ug I'm having trouble with the whole 'sleep through the night' thing again... I've been waking up at my usual time (2.30 - 3) and lying here obsessing about my state of eyes open 'til five am or so.

Not a big deal right now, but shit it sucks during the week. "Madness fills my heart and soul as if the great divide could swallow me whole.. oh how I'm breaking down"

So last night I had a girly date with my work bff - we went for cheep ass old school italian then hit up the adult superstore right next door. We ended up waiting for our table forEVER and amused ourselves by conducting a catty text message conversation about life, love, and mostly the other diners. As we were seated she said that I should text the artist and tell him she insisted he join us, so I did. She's never met him, you see, and jokes that I am actually making him up. He was out in the burbs but said he'd call when he got to his ultimate destination so that we could meet up with him... so when we moved on to *our* next spot I sent him a note. No response. Then when we were leaving to head home sent him another to find out what was up. Still no response. Of course I get pissed off. I've never dated a guy so NOT INTERESTED in seeing me. Like even the couchsurfer (unless he's balls deep in another female) texts me back within a couple of minutes. I don't get it.

Anyway, when I woke up 45min or so ago I noticed that he'd replied - lay down on his bed for a few min and passed out. Woke up after midnight in all his clothes. Acceptable, I suppose, but shit I hate the way it made me feel.

mardi, mai 10

TFLN - the Sundae edition

Quite possibly the best text message I've ever sent: "OK look, if it's really that important to you, we can use herring in the Viking games. It's gotta be external application only, though, and I'm standing firm on the no-Oakenfold".

There's a whole preamble to that, of course, but, seriously, why bother? Everything you need to know about the conversation can be summed up in those couple of sentences.

So last night I started a part time job. 'Cause, let's not kid, I'm chronically underpaid and am having a *LOT* of trouble adjusting to my newfound (you know, since October or so) limited means. It's just gonna be a couple of nights a week, but it'll put some shoe money in my pocket and cut back on the nights when I'm sitting at home watching Top Chef re-runs drinking $3 Malbec.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. *ahem*

Tonight was the first night of a class I'm taking for work. It's a pain b/c it's 3hrs right after work every Tuesday for 12 weeks, which I'm sure will get old quick, but at the same time I'm excited to be back in a classroom (even if it is work stuff, not interesting stuff). Anyhoo, between the class and the new job and the old job I'm setting myself up to be pretty busy. I like that. I don't want to be available anymore.

dimanche, mai 8

side note

Google Analytics is telling me that I get a lot of hits from people looking for "small ass". Oh kids you are *so* in the right place.

let's make this happen, girl

So there's a bit of a tradition here in the sundae sanatorium that we like to refer to as 'pants-off / dance-off', which is to say that I like to spend a lot of pants-free time in my apartment, usually half cut on cheap red wine, dancing around in the semi-dark whilst my cat looks on with scorn.

I've got a pretty good list of songs that make the PO/DO cut, but the most recent is a remix of a Two Door Cinema Club track that I really heart, so I'll leave it with you:   Two Door Cinema Club - Something Good Can Work (RAC Mix) by RAC
The artist is in vegas for work this weekend. And when I say 'work' I mean he spent Friday taking pictures of models and yesterday by the pool drinking. How do *I* catch that particular employment train, is what I want to know? Anyhoo, we seem to be spending a lot of weekends in different cities, lately, so at some point or another I started sending him semi-naked pictures of myself as punishment. When I was in TDot last weekend for the lil' brother's wedding, he sent me some back, though he's not as comfortable with the genre as me. Thank you, bloggity, for removing all sense of shame regarding internet nudity. Anyhoo, the first two pics he sent me this weekend were of the cheesy porn 'stache he grew for Vegas. I promptly photoshopped his head onto Inigo Montoya and Ron Jeremy and sent them back. I then began lobbying for pictures of him naked *and* vomitting (it's Vegas after all) but no love - just a kind of hot 1am mirror shot of him dressed and ready for bottle service at a strip club. Fingers crossed that lap dance shots are forthcoming.

On a separate but not-unrelated note, a couple of days ago I get a text from someone in my phone named M, asking if I want to get together on the weekend for a drink. Now, for some reason, in my head I thought it was the M who's a friend of my friend the sushi chef. He gave me a ride from the airport the other day, which was super nice of him. Anyhoo, I was kind of freaking out a bit because I wasn't sure if it was just 'hanging out' or if he wanted to 'hang out', you know? And, well, there's the artist and I'm all buh-jiggity about him etc. Anyway I thought to myself, goshfukkit, self, just go have fun. So I agreed.

Anyway when my doorbell rang at 6.30 last night it wasn't that M at the door but an entirely different M that I went out with a few times before Christmas. Colour me surprised. And vaguely irritated with myself because I scheduled a dinner excursion for the middle of the hockey game. Anyway - awkward, totally confirmed my buh-jiggityness over the artist, Canucks lost, home by 9pm and got drunk on cheep red wine. Yay Saturday!

Also - just as a point of interest, I've *already* written more blog posts this year than I did in all of 2010 combined. Told you I was trying to get back on the train... Maybe one of these days I'll remember where I put my balls and start posting the good pics.

samedi, mai 7

if you were a pill

I don't know why I can't just relax and take things at face value, but I have to over-analyze absolutely every inaction and obsess about words said or not said. I wonder if it's because I spent umpteen million years in university searching for hidden meanings in texts - subterfuge in the way that words lie on the page one after the other. Why would anyone actually say what they are thinking when there are so many voices messages thoughts to convey?

"You never ask me to do anything."
"I don't?"
"Well we'll have to fix that won't we?"

Something as simple as that - totally a him thing to just sit back and let the world wash over him, to go with the flow and let things be planned - but it festers in my brain and I don't know how to just let it be. Breathe. Just believe.