mardi, novembre 29

cold feet

so it snowed here today and oprah is interviewing jamie foxx. she's trying to get him to talk about his lovelife and he's parrying her thrusts like a master swordsman. good for him.

i betcha if she gives him some of those brownies she gave her audience, and maybe an ipod or two he'd give up the goods.

or maybe he's holding out for ellen. nemo's buddy does a little dance with you when you hit her stage. oprah just gives away cars & stuff.

i worked from home today 'cause i woke up and felt like i'd been a punching bag love slave to matt hughes from the UFC and he'd mastered his ground and pound on my ribcage for six or seven hours whilst i was sleeping last evening. so i stayed home and merrily made flowcharts and answered emails and was away from the bullshit and the gossip and the knives and i feel better now.

but i have to go back tomorrow.

jamie foxx is pretty fucking hot, dude.

i was chatting on the innerweb to a possible boy interest last night for like THREE hours. just back and forth gettin to knowya stuffs but it was really fun. tnb doesn't use the innerweb communication devices so i've been missing the faceless banter. i'm not to sure about getting excited over a potention tnrb (the newer boy). i think i'm going to reserve judgement and excitement fore some time - this way i can cheep out and not have to purchase xmass gifts for significant others. that means more for the kiddo, and maybe some fun pre-christmas treats for me. i like treats.

ok jamie is singing and really he shouldn't. shhh jamie just shut up and kiss me ... slowly ... like that. yeah.

lundi, novembre 28


phil has noticed a decline in his weekday hits and it scratches at him like a branch outside your windown on a windy night when you have insomnia. sckreeek sckreeek sckreeee.

i have noticed that, on the weekends, my hit count drops, which leads me to believe that my blog-obsessed are as much slackers as i am.

also, it means that i am compelled to check my hits during the workday, and struggle to supress my urge to clackity clack away at the keyboard in a blog related fashion between the hours of nine and 5.

ok i don't work nine to five but you get my meaning.

this is my new favourite song:
I want to live where soul meets body / And let the sun wrap its arms around me /And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing \ And feel, feel what its like to be new

if you go to the website you can even listen and sing along, and i will listen and sing along and we'll all be singing together.

you are beautiful

today on the way to work i twice saw (once experienced, once saw, if i am to be entirely accurate) that thing people do where someone is trying to change lanes they are trying to meld seamlessly with the traffic and the car beside them does that asshole thing of speeding up just a bit so there is no room.



it's ok. it's not going to keep you from your destination for much longer than an additional 90 seconds so let that car in. let them in so so that they can make their exit make their turn make way for the guy behind them who's trying to drive faster.


it's monday morning and you are just going to work anyway. why the rush? take a couple fewer moments at the coffeemaker - we all know how the greycup ended. we all heard you wailing the national anthem twenty seven times in a row at the top of your voice. we all know that you have twenty seven plastic cups from the beer garden and that you aren't sure where you left your pants.





ps - tony heart's jessica

samedi, novembre 26

dutch courage

just gave tnb's voice mail a stern talking to, so i did. told him that warning someone that you are flakey is not the equivalent of a 'get out of jail free' card, is not a free pass to act like an asshole. told him that just 'cause he told me he was a flake does not give him the right to treat me like i'm nothing. does not give him the go-ahead to come to my house and fuck me (after breaking up with me for the second time) then disappear again for a week. it's just not right.

i'm so brave when i've had six beers and am talking to a tape recorder. look at me go.

why am i home alone? well 'cause i was just out with the sister and some friends for sushi and drinks then i got all weirded out and wanted to be in my car in the dark with the radio going so i drove home slowly carefully listening to adam freeland really really loud with the heat blasting and all the windows open. i'm sure that wasn't a dead giveaway for any po-lice driving by. yet none of them stopped me and i made it home safely. good job, raspberry.

i know that drinking and driving is irresponsible but sometimes it has to be done. and i am not really drunk, just uninhibited. like, i wanted to start randomly calling all the boys in my phonebook and telling them where to meet me and what we were going to do when we got there and most of these things involved being naked. and more drinking. and more naked.

but i didn't actually do that. what i actually did was the drunk dial shit giving to the guy who i love. you know, the guy who has his head so far up his own ass that he's actually making eye contact with me.


why do i only like the boys with baggage?

why do only boys in longterms smile at me?

can someone please answer these questions and maybe bring me another beer, or perhaps a vodka-soda to wash my anti-allergy pills down with? thanks.

and while we're at it, let's solve some more of the world's problems. like how can we find a way for all of the hot wonderful single women i know to meet up with the hot wonderful single men which MUST be out there, somewhere? you know, me included. where do i find these mythical men? whereohwhere?

i realized today that the kind of man i need is like an oldschool mountainbiker snowboarder indie rocker type, but the kind who has mostly grown out of it. i've got a picture of him in my head, kind of. i want the kind of guy who still goes out and totally has fun, still likes to see live music and party and stuff, but has his shit together, too. 'cause that's what i've got going on. i've mostly outgrown it, but still can't quite give it up - and probably never will. i'm not sure why this is relevant to what i'm saying, but i did, after all, warn you that i drank six beers already, and decided to wash down my allergy meds with the dregs of the two-day-old bottle of water sitting here by my bed. mmmm i heart that shit. the allergy meds at least make it so i can sleep through the night, and i'm sure the beers will be a nice addition to that situation. good sleeps will be had by all this evening.

i can't cry though 'cause the allergies have made it so that my eyes are really really dry and i currently have no tears.

though i'd kind of like to cry 'cause i'm pretty sad about the tnb sitch, truth be told.

ok enough drunken rambling for one evening. g'nite xoxoxo

jeudi, novembre 24

oopsy daisy

had a couple-four glasses o' wine and am feeling the love. or not, as the case may be. my horoscope today kept yammering on about how creative the vibes of my world were supposed to be but i could barely dredge up the fire to put fingertip to keyboard to get this out into the world.

creative my ass.

i started off the day a little strangely. my friend from work who has a crush on me sent me a sweet/sad note about how he couldn't spend so much time wtith me 'cause he has a lot of feelings for me and knows that it's not going anywhere so has to stop before he falls any deeper. he said he doesn't get what's up with tnb 'cause i'm the person who makes him smile every day. now if only men who *weren't* already in a long term thingy felt that way about me.

see, this is what i mean when i say that only unavailable me are attracted to me. stink.

mardi, novembre 22

taking the vowels out of words doesn't always make them cool

radio head say: You want me? Come on and break the door down. You want me? Come on and fucking break the door down.

come and get me mother fucker. you know you want it. you know you want to feel me come up along your body slide my naked ness from toes to the tip of you. you know you want me to climb on you grab me by the hips push up into me flip me over push my legs back and back and back ass in the air knees by my ears you know you want it.

lundi, novembre 21

we were born to fuck each other one way or the other

advice from the divine ms u:
"if it makes you sad to look at him, close your eyes, kick him in the nuts and run away".

words to live by, my friends, words to live by. my only hesitancy arises from the difficulty of accurately connecting with the testes of the gentleman in question once one's eyes are, in fact, closed. what if you missed and kicked him in the knee? you'd just come off as slightly childish, or perhaps a tad peeved. or, worse yet, if you missed entirely, did a total haymaker with your leg, and fell squarely on your biscuit? he'd be compelled to help you regain your footing, your composure would be undone, you'd be completely vulnerable and succumb to his charms. voila, and welcome back to square one. in conclusion, it is good advice, but i'd modify the plan to keep one eye closed, and one eye sort of squinted shut but still kind of open - as though you were playing hide and seek and needed to suss out the direction in which the cute boys were running.

i've had this post saved in draft all day 'cause i heard that lyric (the one used for the title) in an iron & wine song and thought it was humourous as well as astute. can't beat that - two birds, one stone, if you will. along the same vein, today is (possibly) voltaire's birthday. or it would be if he were still alive. and it might not be - it might be some other day. how delightfully cryptic. i heart that. v. has said two things (well he's said many things but there are two which i love to love) that stick out in my mind as particularly pertinant to my current state of mind and or body.

1) "The instinct of a man is to pursue everything that flies from him, and to fly from all that pursue him."
- sure, i'll buy that.

and the second (which is one of my favourite quotations of all time) pertains to the time that voltaire was invited to attend an orgy. he accepted and, later, described the event with relish. when asked if he'd repeat the experience, he replied:

2) "Ah no, my good friends, once a philosopher, twice a pervert."

softly through my atmosphere

' "Have you got any soul?" a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I've got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a better balance, but I can't seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn't be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues. ' ( nick hornby, high fidelity)

dimanche, novembre 20

so tired of believing if this is wrong or right

so the house pays thirty to one who won? not i said the fly. tnb came home called friday night came over yesterday as soon as he'd showered. i welcomed him in so did i win? well i got lucky but how lucky is lucky? did i get played? i don't know. i don't know anything. he stayed this morning to walk to the cafe to watch a movie to curl up on the couch just sitting side by side touching being close.

as he left i said "i'll call you tonight" "that sounds really good" he replied so i called and he was friendly but distant, at best. i'll just not try, maybe. i'll just stop trying. i think this cause is lost i wish that i could sleep i feel like some kind of shadow another slave to the weak.

went to see harry potter with the kiddo, today. aside from being a little rushed, especially at the beginning, i thought it was really good. mr. wolf does a better job of reviewing it than i - i'm feeling a little scattered.

why do you do this to yourself, little raspberry? well, 'cause i don't know how to stop, maybe. 'cause when i care about someone, i really want to hope the best of them.

he knows how i feel. i want to think that, since he knows that i love him, that he'd leave me alone unless he wanted more from me than just a fuck.

the only other option is that he wanted to get laid and knew that i was a sure thing. that he took advantage of my feelings and came to me 'cause he knew that i wouldn't couldn't say no.

who wants to go see the johnny cash movie with me?

vendredi, novembre 18

where is your boy tonight i hope he is a gentleman

text messsaging last night between me and a coworker:

(him) 'tell me something sexy'
translation: i'm loaded and i'm at a bar surrounded by hairy sweaty hockey players.

(me) 'ummm... i'm lying here wearing only a thong rubbing cocoa butter into my skin'
translation: i'm curled up in bed wearing flannel pyjamas, a hoody, glasses and fuzzy socks
(him) 'that's a start. tell me what you want a guy to do to you right now'
translation: i'm still sitting here at this table. i'm not sure where my keys are, and the guy beside me has just put his hand on my knee.

(me) 'shh that's something that should be talked about in person, not over the phone'
translation: what i really want is to finish watching csi and lie here with my eyes closed thinking about what warrick looks like naked.

tnb is supposed to be coming home this weekend. what are the chances that he'll call? i should take bets. i'm voting the odds are slim to none - i'd say there's a 30% chance. any takers? i've even got the house to myself for the whole thing - it could be a grand old time. ah well.

i'm also trying to get ciavarro to go out and drink beer with me. he's reluctant. clearly my charms are waning. maybe i should just head on over to the buck and pick up a nascar fan...

jeudi, novembre 17


Some days I wish I were a man, or maybe just gay, so that I could see the benefit to working in an office full of women. To me, it’s just a stupid hotbed of petty jealousy and gossip. I’m not so much into the clique scene, so it’s really hard for me to do the office politics, you know? I didn’t bother in highschool, so why should I bother as an adult.


Not that some men are much better, mind you. Jeebus. Maybe I should just become a recluse – cut off all ties to the world so that the only eccentricities I have to deal with are my own.

In more pleasant news, I did some fun Christmas shopping last night, and came home with stuff for the kiddo’s dad, for Ms. U, and a shirt for the kiddo, himself. So that’s two of his gifts I’ve managed to pick up. Sweeeeet. I may have also purchased a few pre-christmas things for myself, but we won’t talk about that right now. Retail therapy is the only kind I’m doing. Well aside from the alcohol based self-medicating but we won’t talk about that either.

mardi, novembre 15

why he's the king

"i might not ever find the girl of my dreams who also thinks im the boy of her dreams but im not so sure its a great idea to sit around alone while i figure out the answer."

maybe i'm the girl of his dreams and i'll never know 'cause instead of going to blogstock i went to see tnb and get dumped, even though i knew i was going to be dumped so why didn't i just skip the middleman and go get drunk?

maybe he's the boy of my dreams but he doesn't know and he's filling boxes full of little treats for sweet girls knowing they aren't right for him and feeling homesick for me all the while.

they stole the love from our lives to put the sex on the radio

funny how sometimes other people can feel what you're feeling the same way at the same time but manage to tell you in a way that makes you realize what you couldn't say all the while.

lundi, novembre 14

survey says

HighFives for everyone!

For Wolf, Mister Wolf:
- sadly, I’d have to say Angelina Jolie, Gwen Stefani, or Jessica Alba. So very pedestrian, I know but it’s true…

For Spo:

If Bloc party, Death cab, Fiest, Tribe called Quest and Damien Rice are the most played on current playlist - what shall I buy next?
- none of the above. Buy Constantines – Shine a Light. Or Bloc Party, I guess if you have to.

women in whipped cream bikini's and bed sheets - bad idea or good?
- possibly the best idea I’ve heard all week.

Will King Kong be shit?
- unfortunately yes.

Top tips for telling girls you love them despite knowing its probably going to crash and burn but hell you gotta say it one day yet hope you don't lose them forever more as a result?
- be honest, speak from the heart, and avoid clichés. and if you do crash and burn, simply act like it never happened – maintain the friendship as though nothing was said.

what shall I call my bar?
- adolpho’s

shark vs crocodile - who wins?
- shark. Hands down. Yes I realize sharks have no hands, but neither do crocodiles. Where are my Cheetos?

dimanche, novembre 13


hey y'all i've got 22000 hits. let's eat cheetos and drink a frappaccino.

what would you like to celebrate? i'd like to take you all on dates and let you buy me dinner, but i doubt that sounds good to many of you. how about you just ask some questions and i'll give you some answers?

good raspberry (sort of)

so last night i went to see a movie with a friend. this friend and i have always had a low level of flirtation goin' on, but he's got a long term and i've had tnb for nine-ish months and so nothing's ever happened.


we went to see derailed (which was surprisingly good - rachel is alright, believe it or not) and then went to the pub for a couple of drinks. i had two beer and got LOADED - not sure how that works but hell sometimes i guess i'm just a cheep drunk i shouldn't fight it. if i could do that all the time i'd be a much wealthier woman.

but i digress.

see on friday night he asked me to go hang out and i decided it would be a bad idea 'cause his gf is out of town and i got the sense that he was thinking about maybe just maybe sampling a little raspberry sweetness so i stayed home and drank wine and chatted with you, my friends. last night he wanted to see a movie so i made him come to my part of the world and figured it'd be safe.

it was kind of weird.

i guess he is going to get engaged at christmas. he promised the girl that he'd do it before the new year. i guess he figured this weekend would be his last chance ever for a fling a dance for stepping out and seeing what the fuck he's missing before resigning himself to one bed for the rest of his life. i guess he decided that the person should be me, 'cause he didn't just want to hook up with someone he wanted it to be a woman he cared about and respected and found beautiful.

oh sweetie i said that's unbelieavably sweet but i can't. i can't be that girl. i don't want to be the girl who sleeps with other girls boyfriends. i don't want to be the one last fling anymore i don't want to be the girl who's the fuck. we sat in the car and talked about it for like an hour after the pub closed and i could tell he really wanted to change my mind, but he was very respectful and sweet and didn't push. i told him to go home and that i just couldn't. he sent me a couple of textmessages asking if i was sure and i said yes goodnight.

then i called tnb at 2.thirty am for something for reassurance for validation but he didn't answer. i shouldn't have done that but i needed to hear that it was ok, or that i was right, or not to hear anything but just to talk to him maybe. but he didn't answer so i just said 'hi i'm drunk it's late i'm sorry for calling' and hung up.

samedi, novembre 12

bad raspberry

so a couple of months ago, a friend "broke up" with me 'cause, according to her, i don't know how to be friends with women (among other reasons, i'm sure). for the record, i've bounced this (and some of the other stuff she said) off of women i've been friends with for longer than i've known her, and they feel that she's full of shit. anyhoo. she's on my msn contact list, and i noticed that her tagline is "where my girls at?". i have to admit, my first impulse was to reply 'perhaps you told them they didn't know how to be friends with women based on some criteria known only to you. perhaps you told them that they weren't allowed to have opinions that you didn't agree with. perhaps you told them you couldn't be friends with them anymore for this and other equally puzzling reasons.'

but i didn't.

i wanted to, though. perhaps my anger and hurt feelings have yet to abate.

long weekends are for jammies

so i drank a bottle of wyndham estates bin 555 in the bathtub last night, put my fuzzy jammies on, and crawled into bed. spent the evening chatting with a friend from work, who's girlfriend is out of town, and who wanted to come pick me up to go partying. i decided that it seemed to be a bad idea so begged off in favour of a vanilla scented candle, some classical music on the cbc, and book two of the complete calvin and hobbes.

tnb called me last night, which makes me ohsoglad that i've resisted the desire to call and just say 'hi' (as an aside, i read a few lines from the book it's called a breakup 'cause it's broken yesterday, which basically said 'he broke up with you because he doesn't want you to call. don't call'.) he just wanted to chat. he's still away for another week, so we talked about nothing at all for half an hour, much the same way we always talk about nothing at all and end up killing ourselves laughing the entire time. i'm going to adopt the position that it didn't mean anything, and that he was just lonely and probably misses me a bit. the sister said 'huh. well, good. maybe this means he's smartening up.' her position on all of this has been interesting. usually she hates my boyfriends (i have the WORST taste in men). she likes tnb quite a lot - even to the point of defending him a bit to the divine ms u (who's statement on the whole situation is that he's nice, but not good enough for me). i think that she is hoping he straightens his shit out, cause she likes us together.

i'm less convinced.

ah well. i think that today will be spent christmas shopping with my mama, and maybe doing some craft type things. i'm feeling really reclusive, and don't even want to get out of bed, but i suppose that's not the best way to take advantage of a long weekend. especially since the sun's kind of even shining - truly a rarity in vancouver this time of year.

vendredi, novembre 11

the nighttime is my lover

just crawled in the door, sleepy, ears ringing, belly grumbling (it's almost four am, belly, i'm not feeding you). i had to go dance, tonight. had to have a few drinks and put my ass on the dance floor to the sexy sexy house beats and move just move. when i move you move. when she moves i move. when the dj says move we all bounce as one united by the lights the drink the drugs and the beat. had to smile pretty-like at the boys who paid interest - i thank you for that, but i'm not ready just yet. i did need the attention, though, so i appreciate your glances and the drinks you bought me. please understand that my heart is somewhere else for now, and that it will take me a few weeks to bounce back.

i am sleepy, my friends. come crawl into bed with me and rock me to oblivion.

mardi, novembre 8

four days

and counting. no phone calls from here nor there. is this ok? absolutely and absolutely (not). there is no winner and no loser - this is not a game - but don't let it make you angry or they win they win (this is one of your little riddles, isn't it. you are trying to teach me something again).

(a crime of passion. a cardiac arrest. i hope a little rest comes to you. cause you shine a light)

i can't remember the last time we fucked. you are already slipping away from me - slipping into my history now that you've relinquished your grasp on my now. that's a lie - now that i think about it i can remember rolling over, still mostly asleep, finding your hard cock with my hand. run my fingertips over your your balls, feel you tremor. 'baby, get on your knees'. i comply, feel you climb up behind me, run your tongue over me to get me wet, slide inside. the mornings are my favourite time the half asleep fucking not sure where i end and you begin.

is this truth? or am i imagining it all? is it a memory or a dream?

lundi, novembre 7

it's among the shaking fists

It's hard not to surrender
to the bold and comely words
What sway the bloody minded
What hang above the graceless herd
It's hard not to surrender,
but I will dance down through the alleyways
With one foot in the gutter

if sancutary still exists

i spent the weekend in a drug induced numb - prescription painkillers and tranquilizers that were not my own and i must say the lord shone down upon me with tingling lips and a brain that finally shut off and it was fucking good.

i also had no innerweb access all weekend, my loves, so fear not i was not ignoring you.

i can see why people become addicted to painkillers - they really do kill the pain both physical and psychic. i didn't think all weekend i just wandered around after my friends, asked very politely that they not leave me anywhere and make sure i get home in one piece. when you tuck me into bed, i said, hand me a bottle of water and one of those little white pills and kiss me on the cheek and tell me goodnightsleeptight little raspberry and so they did.

i didn't dream, not once.

i only just about cried once, just once and that was yesterday at brunch when mike b said "are you ok?" and i had to shake my head 'cause i couldn't answer out loud and so he hailed the waitress and ordered me a caeser.

i didn't get horny, not once. this kind of drugs makes that go away too.

dreaming is for suckers - they don't come true.
crying is for suckers - nobody's worth it.
sex is for suckers - letting another person in to your body and your space only ends in the bullshit listed previously.

i almost called in sick and spent today reading calvin and hobbes and giggling quietly to myself, lost in the pillow soft world of blankets and rain outside the window. i may have even let the dog up onto the bed so she could be close to me and lend me her warmth and her unwavering loyalty and companionship.

but i have an addictive personality and so i can take the numb-makers for a couple of days in a row, but much more than that and we are wandering into dangerous territory.

so i'm at work and it's ok so far, cause all of the lights are still off and the phone hasn't rung and i'm just sitting here sipping coffee and talking to you.

dimanche, novembre 6

From Mr Wolf's Notebook

Raspberry doesn't know this, but I'm gonna post. I haven't really found much a dirty post to post here, so I'm going to steal one. But this is from my notebook as I was swaying in the ocean, going to London:

Before I Forget:
- Going to the ferry, going to London, gonna get to town by 12am, may be around 12:30 to my place, which totally sucks but too late for not to check my email, type some posts, maybe try this whole charging the iPod thing.

- Have been reading American Psycho while on the trip and because I have either been writing to you or not bothered (stoned, drunk, tired, all of the above) to read I'm only on page 96 of like 300. I deliberatly bought this book for the violence and to understand what the hell the ending was all about in the movie. Movie is great by the way. Anyways here's a passage from Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho which is pretty much what the style is and what the hell it's all about.

"Sure." I think about Courtney's legs spread and wrapped around my face, and when I look over at Luis in one brief flashing moment his head looks like a talking vagina and it scares the bejesus out of me, moves me to say something while mopping the sweat off my brow. "That's a nice...suit, Luis." The farthest thing from my mind.
-- Ellis, Page 104

"Is that a rain coat Patrick?"
"Why, yes it IS Paul!" (hack hack hack hack)
--- Christian Bale in American Psycho

- The English yobs celebrating a birthday and the running kids are

Mr Wolf's Notebook

samedi, novembre 5

and here we go again

so i didn't go to the mgood preparty. i opted for the anti-party, which is to say i spent the evening at tnb's place while he first refused to talk about what is going on and more or less acted like i was a piece of the furniture, then, at tenpm offered to walk me to my car.

to which i responded "i don't need you to walk me to my car. wtf's going on with us?"

to which he responded by launching into a protracted explanation of how he doesn't want his feelings for me to distract him from what he needs to do, which is move away from the city and what did i want for us to just keep dating until the date he leaves?


what are you talking about, he asked. i said 'you make me happy. i make you happy. we should cherish the time we have together and deal with the future when it happens.'

he said he doesn't work well like that.

i said 'don't you know that i'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you only asked?'

he said 'then you just have to give me some time'.

i cried all the way home. this morning i woke up and have the worst girl-cramps ever and want to amputate my pelvis 'cause i can't see what good that region of my body actually does anyway. it just causes me pain either directly or indirectly.

jesus christ one of the guys from that nickleback clone band default has a mohawk. how does *that* work?

vendredi, novembre 4

sleeping for the wrong team

well helloooooo weekend, and where have you been all my life? silly raspberry, i've been here as usually, nestled between thursday night and sunday night ('cause we all know the weekend actually sort of kind of begins as soon as work is done on thursday evening).

i tried to bully him into saying it last night. he refused to talk about it - said it was stressing him out and hung up. stressing him out? sweet mother of all that is holy the self centeredness of this human being boggles my mind. boggles, i say.

you'll notice that i've once again abandoned capitization (capitolism?) in favour of the willynilly disregard for grammatical conventions and niceties. sorry nk - it's just not *me*.

i'm trying to decide whether or not to go down to the granville room tonight to meet up with ciavarro et al. i'm not going to see the matt good concert - is it bad form to attend a preparty for a party you are not planning on hitting?

tomorrow i'm going shopping with my mama and the sister. that'll fix me up tout-suite. nothing like blatant consumerism to heal a broken heart, i say. well having a fucking hot stranger pick you up, take you home and curl your toes is a thousand times better, but i'm swearing off men for a while, i think.

unless, of course, dean calls. then all bets are off and i'll be in the back of that car, skirt pulled up around my waist, panties hanging off the rearview faster than you can say 'ride me baby'.

jeudi, novembre 3

warning - pity part to commence in tminus seventeen seconds.

In 1915, The National Council of Teachers of English established the first week in November as Better-Speech Week. I'm not sure why this tickles my fancy, but it does. In honour of this, I shall construct one of my rare blog entries which actually conform to most of the laws of grammar - most especially capitalization.

I'm quite incapable of lucid thought today. I'm trapped in a werewolf forest constructed by my own ennui. The trees are falling and the only one who is around to hear them is me, but I'm tired of being a witness to the systematic destruction of my own faith in love and relationships and happiness. I need to call TNB and ask him to just get it over with - just say the sentence which is, inevitably, a variation of "You are the best person I know and I don't want to lose you in my life, but because of [insert random reason here] I don't think we can see each other anymore".

Do you know how many times I've heard that sentence? I'm wondering if I should try to be *less* of a better person - maybe be a bit more of a Judge Judy-style harpy. Would that be more appealing to the opposite sex? I seem to attract men who are at a crossroads in their lives. They meet me and have a lovely time - have their faith in women restored - then move on to the next one. I can't seem to shake the roll of the cool chick you shag for a while then keep around 'cause she's such a great buddy. Maybe if I were more of a selfish beeyatch guys would take me seriously and stick around.

See - you all think I'm kidding when I talk about my bright future surrounded by my cats and discarded tv-dinner trays, but I'm really quite serious. I'm losing my energy and my desire to even try anymore. 'Cause really, what's the point? It always ends with the same sentence. The only variable is how well I can pretend like it doesn't matter to me - wouldn't want to blow the charade, you know, but sometimes it's harder than others. Only you know how it takes little pieces away from my soul, how it steals the sparkle from my eyes. Only you can see the how my shadow is growing in the midday sunshine. The werewolves are circling, circling, and I'm just lying here waiting.

mercredi, novembre 2

random confession #624

i'm fully addicted to the tv show supernatural.

*pauses for groaning/vomitting/protests to cease*

yes i know that the writing is atrocious.

yes i know that the acting is wooden, at best.

but my god the dean guy is an emotionally unavailable muscle car drivin' leather wearin' bad boy and he makes my heart go pit-a-pat. like, i know that he's somewhere here in vancouver filming this dogfoodfest and i want to find him and get him to bend me over the back seat of that car, stereo blasting eighties metal, and hold on for dear life.

it's this bad: my name is earl, starring former top five-er jason lee, is on at the same time. it's, from all reports, a work of comic genius. i can't make myself watch it. i've tried. i've even enjoyed it for the time it was playing. but still i find myself drawn, nay, compelled back to supernatural.

i just can't help myself.

mardi, novembre 1

sister don't reduce yourself

tnb's off on an emotional bender he's in a bad way he's acting like a thirteen year old girl slave to her hormones caught on the tumult rollercoaster of estrogen and breasts and bobby from fourth period math class.

that is, i haven't seen him in over a week 'cause he's "in a bad way" and he's doing the thing where he says he's going to call me back and doesn't and he's out getting drunk with his buddies every night and i get seven minutes of conversation a day and he warned me that he's moody so really i can't complain, can i?

fuck that.

he needs to shake his head and realize that i'm the star of this show, and he's just the romantic interest.

i beat the shit out of myself wondering what i've done wrong. you can't tell me that it's not me it's him 'cause i'm a bit ocd and that means everything including my relationships and if there's something wrong it must be my fault and how can i reorganize to make it all line up in perfect little rows?

this is the point where i look into the camera and have one of those little monologues where i address the audience about how i feel, and all the men fall in love with me and some of the women too (the rest wish they knew where to get my snappy pink jacket and what hair products i use to get such a shine) and everybody's shaking their head thinking 'why doesn't she just smarten up? there's that other handsome man who thinks the world of her she should just head on over to his place and make crepes and drink expresso and talk about music and literature and maybe have a heated philosophical argument which can only be resolved in a hot sweaty body slapping beneath the blankets fashion?'

well, cause that's hollywood and this is the real world and in the real world there is no other handsome man.

at least for now.

9fourteen a.m. update -

i just received an email with the following subject line:

"jesus invites you to join myspace".

that's gotta be a sign.