mlk jr day

today is mlk day. stop, reflect. are you truly sending positivity out into the world?
he said:

Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

Nonviolence is the answer to the crucial political and moral questions of our time; the need for mankind to overcome oppression and violence without resorting to oppression and violence. Mankind must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.

The good neighbor looks beyond the external accidents and discerns those inner qualities that make all men human and, therefore, brothers.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

why is it that canada does not recognize martin luther king jr day? and don't tell me it's because he was an american. mlk was a citizen of the world - what he spoke about and stood for transcends national boundaries and metaphorical borderlines.

nk is gone. i haven't removed him from the sidebar yet, 'cause it makes me sad a little.

more later. xo

edit - i changed the post title, cause polyphonic prostitute didn't seem so respectful-like.

destination unknown, ruby ruby ruby ruby soho

when mike b invites girls that he wants to make out with to his house to watch movies, he inevitably pops in 'pirates of the caribbean'. he says it's better panty remover than lemon gin. girls can't resist the swashbuckling charm combo of orlando and johnny d. throw in a little mike b magic and bob's yer uncle.

i think that, to this date, i'm the only woman who hasn't succumb.

last night, as i curled up on the couch at the cute boy's place, he asked me "do you want to watch pirates of the caribbean or bladerunner?" i started to laugh, and explained mike b's theory when he queried my on my humour. he looked at me, looked at the dvds in his hands, and chucked bladerunner over his shoulder.

last night i didn't even bother putting up a fight.

i'm two quarters and a heart down

i took a colour picture for ciavarro, my second ever internet crush. i'm feeling a little nostalgic tonight, so thought i'd dredge through my fondest memories with the help of a bottle or three of red wine. though i did notice, however, that my mama has been dipping into my stash of rh phillips. i can't say too much though, i guess. she did give birth to me. the least i can do is share my wine.

do you know that if it rains till sunday we are going to hit a record for the most consecutive days of rainfall in a row? how messed up is that? if you don't hear from me again, it's probably because i've chewed through my wrists in some kind of coyote ugly suicide - i've woken up and rolled over and found myself in bed with mother nature and she's frickin' f-u-g.

the divine ms u and i have a standing payday date with the outlet mall right by our office. we hit garage fortnightly for cheep tshirts and stuff to wear dancing. it saddens me 'cause my "nice rack" (as the cute boy my sister introduced me to refers to it) means that i have to buy a large, but whatevs. for five dollar tshirts i'll wear a double-x if i have to. or a triple-x. that'd be sweeeeet. but vindiesel triple x not ice cube 'cause the cube may have *been* the shit, but lately-ish he's been less straight outta compton and more straight outta disney. he used to be so hot. le sigh.

i don't think the cute new boy is interested. mike b says it's the fear talking. i am less convinced. i guess we'll see, huh?

i'm still taking offers from cute boys. you've all seen me now - if you are interested in taking a cute blonde girl out some night you know where to find me. tomorrow night'd be good, too, 'cause it's haircut day. i heart haircut day.

wow i'm drunkenrambling i do apologize. xoxo

things that sound dirty but really aren't #572

"i'm looking for something sweet to suck on."
uttered innocently by me, raspberry sundae, upon being asked what she was looking for at the convenience store this evening. i'm not sure who blushed more - me or the poor pimply faced teenager who probably hangs out with my kid...

things i held sacred that i dropped

further to my previous post, one of my fave... not writers per se, but definately one of my fave characters (dorothy parker) wrote this:

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

she's my sweet soul sister for sure.

so along those lines, i find myself in a bit of an emotional pickle. a pickle? yes, a pickle.

you may recall the fact that the sister had decided to introduce me to a good friend of hers, selling him as equipped with features such as 'cute, good job, not a psycho, sunroof optional' (all very appealing attributes, i must say). she wasn't planning on putting any kind of matchmaking effort in, or anything, just to introduce us. which she did. now i was kind of drunk (witness the red-faced sundae a couple of posts ago) and i may have given him a wee kiss, but only the flirty kind i give everyone. we did sit and talk for a while - away from the crowd, chatting about 'getting to know you' stuff. he asked for my number. he asked me for a hug at the end of the night. he text'd me on nye when i was out with W49 to say happyhappy. all good things.

so where's the pickle? where's the pickle? yes, where's the pickle? he sounds nice - this seems normal. well, my friends, therein lies the pickle. he is nice. this is normal. i have this weird tug in the pit of my belly when i think of him (mike b says this is a good thing. i'm unconvinced). we were going to hang out on sunday but he hurt himself with a keg of beer and a canucks game on saturday, so couldn't. we might hang out on thursday instead, or perhaps over the weekend.

now, is this my usual lust talking? once i fuck him will i want nothing to do with him (as is my usual habit)? or am i being weirdly obsessive about someone that i barely know? i just don't know.

** edit **
so i did a virtual rune thing and came up with this:

Dagaz - Transformation, Breakthroughs

Dagaz denotes important breakthroughs in relation to whatever concerns you. The moment is right and therefore success is assured. This is the Rune of radical trust, even if circumstances require you to jump to the void with apparently empty hands.

It often introduces an important time of prosperity and great results. However, you are reminded to pay attention and not allow yourself to be carried away or to behave carelessly in your new situation. Humility and generosity are advised.

i can be generous. i can be humil. humbil. humilous? practice humility. you know what i mean...

under helicopters of desire

To lust with raging lungs. What hangs above when we love in fear? Don't take me to the hospital. Don't tie me to the wires. Just kiss me on a rooftop. It's for us. he's got the softest skin i ever felt and when he flipped me over, pushed my hair up up off my neck and gently grabbed the knot at the top of my spine with his teeth i could feel goosebumps rising the length of me, rising up closer closer closer to his touch. i arched my back against him, thrust my ass up, couldn't get near enough, couldn't find a way to smother my skin with his body. how can i climb inside him how can i feel him from the inside out how can i surround myself with the velvet pressure of his touch.

i know as he pushes inside me that this might be my only chance - that when it's done my lust will flicker and fade away. this will be the only time we meet here, in the dark, in desire.

it has to count for everything. i have to drink him all in take him all in my mouth touch every inch of him with my hands my tongue. i have to make it count for everything.

he rises up behind me with a gasp, pulling my hips in tight and i can feel him crash over me i fall to the bed face down on the pillow and bring him with me so that his body is on top of me his weight anchors me in this moment. don't ever let it slip away. this is the only truth - two bodies two people minds free and linked together at the same time.

this is the only truth don't ever let it slip away but even as i think this even before he's pulled out of me even while we are still together i am already thinking about someone else i am already gone.

15 min of fame

holy crap i found a picture of myself on the judge jules website

i was very drunk, clearly.

housekeeping

so i made some updates to the ol' sidebar. sadly i had to delete a blog that i used to love that has been defunct for some time, and i was holding onto purely for sentimentality's sake. i also ditched the brain libations ('cause i read way too fast to keep up with it, and it was having the effect of making me appear as though i was just this side of illiterate) and also the on the decks 'cause i felt like it. i may add them back when i finally finish the waking up with sundae cd, but right now it's too big and ungainly and offends my ocd.

i also finally added phil and raymi after a year of stalking them and having a secret secret blogger crush on phil. nk reports that he is very very tall, so the crush may be somewhat weakening. i have some interesting lovelife updates for you, but seem to be having difficulty putting them into words. i'll try again later, though, i promise.

(this is raspberry speaking to herself for a moment. i'm going to lecture - feel free to tune out the same way you did when you were fourteen and your mom found beer in your room)
hey lady. this journal is a forum for you to get the swirly thoughts out of your head and onto the page. you know you always do better at sorting shit out that way, then you do strictly keeping it inside. write it down, lady, and stop stalling.
(lecture over)

another frank sinatra so i can get you in bed

though there was never any real doubt before, let me just say, we kick ass. the office started to slowly empty out yesterday around about 2.30 as people made their way to their favourite watering holes. i hung around for another hour, then drove home listening to the pregame and puckdrop on the radio. i don't know if it's just that i spent so many of my formative years watching hockey night in canada, or if it's just something you are born with as a canadian, but i fully had goosebumps listening to the pregame.

gretzky predicted a 4-1 win for canada. he came pretty freakin' close. the final score was five-oh but i do believe that the *real* score was 5-1 (i won't begrudge the russians that one goal. pogge didn't need another shut out.) i love the fact that the russians are as passionate about this game as we are. i love the fact that the goalie chucked his stick across the ice, flew over the boards, and bawled his eyes out for five minutes. i love the fact that his coach stuck with him till the bitter end - he's a great goalie he just didn't have the magic the canadians did last night. i love the fact that, going into this tournament, no one believed that the canadian team would even make the medal round. i love the fact that the finnish team beat the us 'cause the americans are cocky and need to have their asses kicked around the world stage in at least one kind of arena (no offence to my us friends). it was just a great game, and there was good sportsmanship on behalf of the winning team and the winning audience and the energy in the crowd was palpable even through the television.

i hated the fact that scalpers were selling tix to this game for upwards of $800 'cause half of the money made from this tournament goes back to hockey canada and i believe in supporting amateur sports in whichever shape they take.

i have some personal stuff meandering around in my brain, but i'll write that later, after a glass or two of wine when i'm in my pj's in front of the fire, k?

xo

i'll be your number one with a bullet

i've managed to make my own blog nsfw for myself - i have to furtively ensure that there is no one behind me before i check for comments and/or the changes which i always hope have occurred, but never do (*ahem* german, ciavarro - stinkin' guest bloggers who never guest blog).

this is, of course, as opposed to my pre-digicam days, when i simply had to make sure that there were no higher-up boss types behind me before i checked on my bloggity. i do actually care whether or not my co-workers see my tah-tahs. other than the divine ms u, of course, 'cause she's seen 'em before.

so my poor 'puter is still in bits all over the table. this is a subtle improvement - it was in bits all over my floor, previously - but it is an improvement nonetheless. as soon as i've figured out what's wrong with it (and when i say *i*, i of course mean someone else) it will be put back together and the happy happy getting up with sundae cds will be compiled.

anyhooo... i should probably *pretend* to be working at least. this whole vacation thing messed me up royally - my sleep patterns are screwed, and i have absolutely no drive or ambition right now. i really was cut out for a life of scholarly pursuits which can be conducted from the comfort of your own home.

that or a straight up life of leisure - i'm easy.

work sux

so tomorrow morning i have to go back to work. i don't like going to work. i like my life of leisure. i would like to somehow maintain it. how can i do this, i wonder?

well, aside from taking a sugar daddy. actually, fuck that i'll take a sugar daddy. just keep in mind that you'll have to make enough to support me, you, and the kiddo. if you are good with that, i'm good with it as well. and i don't have a particularly extravagant lifestyle, though i do enjoy creature comforts such as dinners out weekly and nice shoes.

oh as a point of interest, the bumshot below was taken in W49's bedroom. he was in the shower. i took the opportunity of being left to my own devices in his apartment not to snoop, but to take pictures of myself posed on his furniture. somehow, i don't think he'll mind.

dating dilemma: so my sister's friend asked me for my number on friday night. i gave it to him. he sent me a text message on nye to say happy ny. i responded with a thanksyou, but should i call to say hiya? he's cute. i'd go out with him fo-sho. hm. perhaps i should just send back another witty text message. i'm so bad at this shit. i'm good at meeting someone and fanning the chemical attraction/reaction between us, but then from there on out i'm the worst. i never know how to act appropriately.

ok there - i text'd him back. let's see if that stirs up a little excitement, shall we? why not start the new year off with a... well see now i want to say bang, here, but i kind of already did that, now didn't i? let's just say a new adventure. yeah, that'll do, donkey. i'm in the mood for an adventure, or two. or hell, even three.

no not three - i'd get far too scattered for three. and, seriously, who has the energy?

when it reigns

first off happy new year to everyone. i hope that oh6 is everything you hope it could ever be. ok lame year end list alert...

top five things that happened to me in 2005:

1. discovering the constantines. yes it really did take me this long. yes i dreadfully regret it.
   
2. learning how to wakeboard for my doublethird birthday
   
3. touching dave grohl
   
4. getting switched to another department at work and figuring out that it wasn't really *me* who sucked, it was my previous position.
   
5. shagging in the churchyard
   

other stuff:

• fave snack food of 2005 - it's a tie between dark chocolate peanut m&m's & kettle cooked firecracker hallapeeno peanuts
  
• fave book of 2005 - eleanor rigby by douglas coupland
  
• fave dj show of 2005 - mark farina & dj heather at the commodore
  
• fave live band show of 2005 - constantines opening for the weakerthans
  
• fave romantic moment of 2005 - sitting watching the sunset, drinking wine & eatin g burgers with tnb
  
• fave blog post by me of 2005 - the church sex one i linked to above

------------------------------------------------------------

enough of that shit. ok, so if you'll recall, my sister had invited a guy along to judge jules to introduce me to. turns out he's pretty cute. we had a decent conversation about work and stuff and he asked for my number. so i get home round about four.am then log into le laptop and rori is on line and we talk for like an hour - the essence of the conversation being mostly about him actually being in love with me but being too afraid to admit it. so then i get to the island and spend new years with west49 and have a really good time and sometime after one my sister's budy shoots me a 'happy new year' text message and holy shit what the hell.

ug my belly hurts from too many firecracker jalapeno peanuts and a whole can of coc-a-cola.

hey, wolfie there's your ass photo. sorry it's six months late.. xoxo

i call this one 'wardrobe malfunction'

mystery of the dial up internet solved - the kiddo was yanking all the bandwidth to download some massive game. i made him pause till later tonight and reset the damn thing. now we're moving along at a much quicker clip.

we went 'cross the border to hit the outlet malls today. the sales were good but the lineup was an hour on the way down and almost two on the way back. naturally my family makes me drive so i'm tired and cranky and am supposed to be going out to see judge jules tonight and really really want carlot boy to call, ask if i want to go curl up somewhere and drink wine and make out, and save me from all night dance parties. how pissed would my friends be? oh mighty pissed, young raspberry. mighty pissed.

shit i just vomitted up my dinner. see, i should never eat when stressed out / angry. it's not good for me.

anyhoooooo i'm heading out tonight and am less than excited. it has more to do with the border lineups and my strong desire to curl up with a cute boy and make out more than it does my lack of desire to go out. plus i know that when i least want to go, i always end up having the *most* fun, so i'll buck up and smile.

i was stricken by a strong sense of missing tnb earlier, cause i was talking to mike b from away and felt very lonely. therefore, it wasn't really tnb i was missing, just the male companionship. oh well - i'll have some of that tomorrow, right?

fortified with the liquor store

my innerweb connection is fucking SLOW like dial up slow like bang my head on the keyboard slow like before when we were with telus there were days it didn't work at all but when it did work at least it was fucking FAST slow.

i just might kill somebody. it's pretty fucking slow. (wow when i said that i totally had tnb's voice in my head. scary shit, dude.)
HEY speaking of tnb do you know that he didn't even call me to say merry merry? fucker. not like i called him either, but since the last thing he said to me was 'i'll call you tomorrow' and that was three weeks ago i don't think i was entirely out of line for leaving him off my christmas card list this year, you know?

are you tired of looking at me yet? well too fucking bad 'cause i'm all about this camera thing. i'm also getting kind of freaky about the impending plans for this weekend - like excited anxious freaky like maybe not so much in a good way freaky like i should maybe go spend some money to make myself feel better freaky.

i'm just sayin'.

hey i missed watching supernatural this week somehow. i think it was 'cause i lost the remote and turned on the tv but then got stuck on a channel. do you think people only used to have one channel 'cause they didn't have remotes, or was it vice versa? huh. interesting thought. oh i found it, by the way, in my tshirt drawer. how did it get there, you ask? well i obviously decided it was a good place to store the stupid thing. clearly.

i may have been drunk at the time.

who's to say.

i'm trying to upload another picture but it's so fucking slow that the damn thing keeps timing out I'M GOING TO KILL SOMEONE i swear to god. ok fuck it no more pictures i'm gonna go spend money.

space flunky, four on the floor

so this time last year i posted the following helpful form letter. i know that you, like me, will most likely have use for it over the upcoming weekend. the problem with new year's falling on friday saturday or sunday is that you are compelled to fill the other weekend nights with debauchery of a comparable level. can't have any of them feeling inadequate, you know.

clearly.

so anyway, as a public service (no one can say that we here at the sundae sanatorium are anything but helpful), here is the letter. feel free to print it out and distribute as necessary. pants, ciavarro, i may have you in mind.

Dear Mr. / Mrs. ___________

I am writing to apologize for my ________ behaviour the other night, and i hope that despite everything, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I should have known there would be a problem when your ______ first brought out the ________ of _______ that was so big it needed a handle. I was nervous about meeting you for the first time, and although i can usually hold my ________, i thought that having a few ________ would help me to _________. I was obviously very very wrong.

I honestly don't remember much between _______ with your visiting relatives and _______, but i'm told that i made quite a scene. If past experience is anything to go by, I'm guessing I whipped out my ______ and said "______" a lot. I hope i didnt' try to sit on your husband's / wife's _________ or make out with your ______, but at this point, nothing would surprise me. In my mind, I was just trying to be _______. All i know is that i woke up bathed in _________, with a blinding hangover, next to your ________ in the _________ in your driveway. I'm guessing you probably saw the big pile of ______ on the table where we tried to ________, but I'm hoping you didn't walk in while we were ________. We disposed of the _______ in the ________, so hopefully you didn't stumble across that, but i'm sure the lingering _____ smell was unmistakable. I have a vague recollection of the _______ arriving, so I guess the person the neighbours heard at 4am shouting "________" was me. Oops. Sorry again.

I'd be happy to pay for the _________ I broke (I only threw my ________ out of it because i thought it was open) and replace the tub of ________ and the plastic ________ that went missing, and if you have any trouble getting the _______ stains and the ________ marks out of the furniture, please send me the cleaning bills.

Please accept my sincerest apologies and this _______ that I made.

For what it's worth, all the best of the holiday season, and once again, my deepest regrets for being such a _______, ________, ________. I don't usually show people that side of myself until the second or third meeting.

Remorsefully,


________________________


PS - if a pair of black mesh _________ you don't recognize turn up somewhere, they're probably mine. Since you probably never want to see me again, you may as well just keep them.

so for my new year i'm going to go hang out with a guy i met in a bar a year ago and haven't seen since (we chat almost daily - at least a few times a week - via the ehm ess enn, but no in-person type communication). now, this is the night *after* going to see judge jules, where there will surely bE somE party trEats imbibed. i do it only for the sake of the commentary which will surely follow. it's all for you, and for posterity. clearly. my gosh the things i put myself through for you people....

as an aside, how long does it generally take for the fascination with taking half naked photos of yourself wears off? 'cause last night i took a whole slew (the one posted previously included). carlot boy logged in during my photophrenzy and, once he learned what i was up to, commissioned an entirely topless shot. of course i had to fulfill his wants and desires. he's cute and is very sweet, despite my co-workers suspicions otherwise.

the topless one was just for him, though. sorry.

**edit** by the way, how fucking nicole richie skinny does my arm look in that picture? i've entitled it golem. i'm not a praying mantis stick bug, i swear to god. i'm actually kind of curvy..

hump day

ok i think that it's wednesday. i'm not entirely sure - this whole time off thing messes with my head, yo, and i dunno if i'm coming or going. what i do know is that i can't find my television remote and am utterly incapacitated. dude i *know* there's good tv on right now, i just can't *get* to it.

i also know that on friday (i think? yeah, friday) we are gonna go see judge jules at a dirty little club downtown. i think that going out the night before new year is quite revolutionary, socially, and i deserve a cookie for spearheading this campaign. my little set has plans to stay in for new year's eve and subvert the commercialism and wanton drunken overindulgence that the night has come to embody.

yeah i thought that idea sucked, too, so i'm gonna go to victoria to go to a party with a guy i met there last year.

i spent most of today in bed, getting up only to make tea and switch over laundry. well that is until 4pm or so when i had to get dressed to go for dinner with my family. it was a lovely dinner, but i vaguely resented having to take off my fuzzy winnie the pooh jammies and put on makeup and respectable clothing. you can tell how impressed i am based on my photo.

i am being insincere and ungrateful - it was a lovely dinner, the sister was in grand entertainer form and the restaurant is very nice. a girl sitting at the table next to us, however, did lead me by the hands to the brink of a moral dilemma. she removed her coat and let it slip down the back of the chair behind her. still stuck into the lining of the coat was the old navy pricetag - clearly a christmas or hanukkah gift of some sort. now, is it my place to point out to her that she's inadvertantly advertised to the restaurant that her jacket was $40 on sale? or do i simply let it go, seeing as the garment is outerwear?

i let it go, figuring that it would embarress her more to have her slip pointed out. and hell, what do i know? she could be returning the damn thing on the drive home. who'm i to judge?

happy blog-day

two years ago in the sanatorium: "this would be my first attempt at this. i am, if you will, a blog virgin. i've been thinking about the wierdness of connecting with people on the internet. it's not like i have trouble meeting people in *real* life-- i am just fascinated by the sheer volume of people that i have no other way of coming in contact with. does this make me a bit of a tart? hmm i wonder."

i started this journal as a way of getting my thoughts out of my head.. as a way of getting myself back into the habit of writing daily. what it has turned into is that, as well as a really interesting way of connecting to people whom i've never met - just the thing that i said i was fascinated with way back when. it's hard, sometimes, to think that i've been doing this for two years, and am still interested in keeping it going. i've met some great people over the innerweb - both in person and metaphysically - and i come here every day looking for conversation, and for inspiration, and just to get the sense that i'm part of a community of people who have been flung together by more than just a job or the convenience of location or the same taste in music. i like to think that there is a little more to friendships forged with people who connect almost exclusively cerebrally.

but that's just me.

peace on earth

i'm busy simultaneously helping my mama try out her new fancy-schmancy corkscrew and introducing her to several new varieties of red wine. see, last night i stuck to vodka and passed out watching 'a christmas carol', only to wake up two hours later, the tv blaring a infomercial, mostly on top of the blankets and half spooning my sister.

don't be dirty - her and my brother stayed over 'cause of the whole first thing in the morning thing. there isn't enough beds.

'round about eightpm i texted a message to carlot boy wishing him a merry ho ho xoxo. he responded back milliseconds later, offering the same greeting, heavy on the x. we swapped lacivious notes for a few minutes, then i begged off to partake in family type wholesome activities, only to receive an eleven30 phone call asking if i wanted to maybe sneak out for a drive.

i declined. well, mostly i passed out. but whatevs.

what did santa bring you? it seems like that naughty elf tapped into my picture pondering and has weighed in on the situation by leaving a lovely digital camera under the tree with raspberry's name on the tag. i experimented with some boob shots a la the pants but nothing came out quite to my liking. soon, though, i imagine.


holy shit, by the way, and merry christmas to me - the constantines are playing the media club jan 15...

'twas the night before

so it's christmas eve and once again i feel as though i've rushed up to this day (which is one of my favourite days of the year) and have missed a whole bunch of stuff that should have been done. now it's too late and it won't get done until at least next year.

i guess, though, if it didn't *get* done it probably didn't really need to.

i've made:

• nanaimo bars
• fudge
• oreo cheesecake squares
• raspberry white chocolate shortbread
• hazelnut cappucino cookies
• pecan sandies
• chewy nut squares
• milk chocolate almond bark
• two different kinds of nuts - one sweet & one savoury
• chocolate macaroon shortbread

i think that's all. i was going to make more but ran out of time/energy.

the kiddo is getting pretty much *every*thing on his list. it's quite sick, really - but he's the only child/grandchild and so i guess that is the way things should work.

christmas at my house starts late in the afternoon christmas eve. neighbours and/or my parents' work colleagues come by for tea and sweets and my mom gets kind of stressed out 'cause she is happy they've come to visit, but worried about being kept away from feast-type preparations. once they've all gone home, we sit down to supper. my mama grew up in northern ontario, and lived in a town with a high population of french canadians, so christmas was as much about the parties and gatherings and festivities of the eve as it was about the day. we have tourtiere, which is traditionally served on Reveillon (christmas eve) in quebec. this is one of the big deals i remember from being a kid, which kind of slipped away when my sister and i left home, but which i reinstated a few years ago. except now, i make it instead of my mom. it's a meat pie of ground beef and pork simmered with spices and broth, then cooked with grated potato and carrot and baked in the oven till it's golden brown. i can't eat it, of course, so i'm always on a quest to find myself an appropriate replacement, but it's still super important to me for it to be there.

when supper's through we clear up and bring out the games and the cocktails. we play board games and just basically laugh for hours. friends come in and join for a while, then head off to spend time with their own families, or friends who are away from their families come and spend the night. once the kiddo and my brother (who's the youngest sibling so adopts the role of the baby again on this night) have gone to bed, the 'santa' gifts come out and the stockings are filled. my parents wait till i've gone to bed to do mine, but i always sneak back up to flip on the tree lights and just look at it for a few moments in peace. then i go to bed and wait for the kiddo or my brother to wake me up at six or some other equally sick hour of the morning. once the presents are done, we start eating and basically eat all day. eventually, if it's not raining, i'll start to go stir crazy and have to get out for a walk or something, but everyone else will nap or watch movies or talk to family in ireland and do all of that good stuff, until it's time for dinner.

i guess most people's holiday traditions are the same - an amalgamation of whatever cultural or family backgrounds have combined, then evolved into something new. for example, when my sister was away, we always put a lit candle in the front window to guide her home for christmas eve (my dad comes from generation upon generation of sailors). i imagine tonight we'll do it for her boyfriend, who's off at sea again this year. we have french canadian tourtiere for christmas eve dinner, cause that's how my mom grew up. i am curious to see which traditions the kiddo will take with him when he leaves home and starts his own family, and which traditions his future wife will bring with her. i'm also always curious about the traditions of other people - what are yours?

anyway... i guess it's probably time for me to get up and start my day. i'm off for brunch with mike b - tomorrow he's flying to thailand for five weeks and so we are going to spend a little time together today. then i have to come home and start preparations for dinner tonight. if i don't speak with you again, have a merry merry christmas full of love and food and kindness and sharing. i wish you all the best of the day and of the season, and hope that all of your christmas dreams come true.

love, raspberry
xoxo

day before the night before

so i went back to the doctor today after a couple of months of blood test and puzzlement and being oh-so-very tired all the time (the kind of tired where some days i'm not sure if i am going to make it home from work or the shop or wherever it is that i am without falling asleep and crashing my car and going out in a smashy-smashy blaze of jon bon jovi-esque glory).

she made me do one of those little circle the number tests to see if i am depressed 'cause there's no real medical reason for the sleepy sleepy. i answered to the best of my ability but there were some where i just selected the answer closest to the right one rather than write a brief summary of the truth which would probably make me look not so much depressed as fucking crazy.

(what do you mean young raspberry? well for example question 7) do you restrict your eating in order to lose weight? answer) yes sometimes, but more often i get so anxious about the food i *have* eaten that i vomit the contents of my stomach and so feel better and don't need to diet. or, perhaps, question 9)do you have less interest in sex than you used to? answer) yes kind of really it's more like i want to go out and fuck random anonymous men who will only treat me like shit in order to justify my own sense of self loathing. that's pretty normal, isn't it? thought so)

she feels that i am, indeed, depressed - perhaps even *very* depressed. she recommends getting a sad light and exercising for 45 min a day five days a week.

i'll get right on that.

well, after i drink myself into a stupor, of course.

yay for vay-kay

omg i'm off till jan three and i'm so happy i could spin through the house pirouetting and laughing out loud. i love the fact that our office closes for that week. it's the best thing ever 'cause i spent a lot of time in school and am pretty used to having extended periods of time where i don't have to do anything but nurse a hangover headache, walk around in my jammies, cook increasinly elaborate meals that are deceptive in their seeming simplicity, and read paperback novels in coffee shops.

so here i go off to do those very things for a week and a half. which, of course, means that i'm either going to be very prolific or very absent from these hallowed halls. probably prolific 'cause lets not kid i don't really have much of a life.

i went out for dinner with mike b last night to this place downtown called villa del lupo (mr wolf it seems right up your alley). i ate and ate and ate more than i've eaten the rest of the week put together and it was so frickin' good i almost died. i even ate a few things that i am kind of allergic too so had a bit of a bad belly when i got home but muthafucka was worth it i swear to jeebus.

ok i was sitting here feeling a little self righteous about the whole finished with my christmas preparations thing but my brother just popped his head in and asked me to help him out with something for my sister so i guess i should haul my lazy assaholic out of bed and take a shower or some shit.

xoxo

don't think don't speak

i've been listening to adam freeland on the way to work in the morning. it's really really good - house-y breaks keep me seat dancing all over the car. spo, if you ever find the adam freeland on that site, you'll understand.
----------------------------------------------------

sent the carlot boy a text message last night "you are horrid for my poor ego" i said. he is more than a little bit of a workaholic. he'll turn up and we'll go have a drink and a good chat and kiss a bit then i won't see him or hear from him for three months. when i do he'll be in the middle east for six weeks visiting family (now that was a crazy phone call to get) or he'll have taken over another car dealership and be working fourteen hour days.

he called back about an hour later - "sorry" he said. "i was playing hockey." we chatted for a while as he drove home, then he rang off, saying he'll call today.

i'll bet you five bucks it'll be march before i talk to him again.
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the sister is matchmaking. i think she's completely puzzled by the state of my lovelife. (aren't we all, the sundae asks knowingly). she's picked out a new victim, erm i mean potential suitor, for me and is trying to arrange a meeting. i feel a certain amount of hesitance / reluctance to date anyone my sister has chosen for me, especially someone who she considers a friend. how awkward will it be when i completely fuck the situation up - cause we all know that i will. (yes, yes you will, sundae, says the sundae, nodding knowingly).
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fuckitol / edible telephones / whale blubber

think, thank, thunk

ok so here's the deal.

in just over a week, my little bloggity blog will be two. what am i thinking of doing to celebrate, you ask?

well, i'm thinking of coming out of the closet.

no, not that way, you cheeky monkey.

i mean, up until this point this journal has been mostly anonymous. there are a few people from my 'real' life who know about this, but i can count those people on one hand. or at least i think i can.

(hey if you are reading this and you know who i am but have never 'fessed up, now is the time, by the way.)

but i'm thinking of maybe putting up some pictures. like, the kind where you can actually see who i am.

i hesitate for two reasons. the first is that i've talked about stuff here that i'd be kind of embarassed for some people to read about - especially if people i worked with found out about this site. the second is that i worry i'd be less inclined to talk openly and honestly if you could see who i am - most especially about sex and stuff.

yes i realize i haven't written about sex in a while but it's 'cause i'm NOT HAVING ANY.

oooooo hey... if i posted a photo or two of myself, perhaps someone would actually take me up on it when i announce that i'm looking for a date or some male type company for the evening. mind you then again perhaps people who've contemplated it before would run away screaming.

hmmmmm.

what to do? what do you think? stay anonymous or start putting up pictures of myself? if you self-identify on your sites, do you censor yourselves, or not censor and get asked awkward questions? how do you handle the work thing? there are such positives and negatives to both sides of the issue. it will take some thinking but by the twenty.7th i shall make a decision.

five habits

minako tagged me to talk about five of my wierd habits, and so here i am giving up the goods. in more ways than one, if you get my drift.

1. i group things in threes. whenever i organize stuff on my desk, or on counters, or as a display, they are always in threes, in sort of a triangle type pattern.
   
2. when i pour myself coffee in the morning, i take the full cup to the stop of the stairs, stop, and take a little sip before descending. that's my first sip, and i do it that way every day.
   
3. i do things in a circular way - for example, when i apply eyeliner, i do the top lid of the right eye, then the bottom lid, then the bottom lid of the left eye then the top. makes a circle - closes the loop. i also drive home via one route, then home by another, but the home route picks up the to-work route, so a round trip makes a circle.
   
4. i obsessively search for relationship advice on the internet, even when i'm not in a relationship. i know, it's fucked, but i can't stop wondering whether or not someone, somewhere, has it all figured out.
   
5. i play with my nose ring all the time - i turn it around and fiddle with it and pull it half out.
   

well that's my five. i'm supposed to tag people to carry on... i don't like to do that but if you want to play then post in the comments so i can see :)

wtf?

what? nobody wants the cd? holy heck you offer people free stuff i figured you'd be lining up. no dice. no love. i can't get no respect.

so my car lot boy was online when i logged in after spending the evening hanging with my folks.i was half loaded after drinking the better part of a bottle of cab-sav (minus the part i splashed across the white living room carpet whilst gesticulating wildly). anyway, carboy said to me 'i'm near your neighbourhood and my buddies want to go to a club. save me - let me come pick you up'. i hemmed and haw'd, then thought hell why not? it's only midnight.

my buddy from work, the one who's been trying to get me to be naked for him, was chatting with me at the same time. he started getting funny - making comments like how carboy was clearly coming to get me for a bootycall and how come i'd give it up for him but not for my colleague etc. i tried to point out that carboy had been nothing but gentlemanly thus far in our outings, and that he knows me better than that. workboy was doubtful. however, carboy picked me up, we went and had a drink but the band in the pub was distressingly loud (by loud read awful) so we drove around a bit in the fog then parked and sat and chatted. he was nothing but gentlemanly, though let me know that he was, literally, sitting on his hands to keep them from acting otherwise.

i love being right.

*yawn*

is it just me, or has this been the world's LONGEST week. like i'm sure that i've done enough work for two or three weeks,and yet it's only wednesday.

(i'm not calling it hump day 'cause of the recent, erm, scare - i may be put off for a bit.)

i'm tickled to report that there will be no young tnb/raspberry knock-offs running about the place. i must admit that i was getting a bit, shall we say, stressed. and i may have caught myself examining the circumference of my belly once or twice. or three times. or every twenty minutes in a self obsessed fashion that even the most narcissistic megalomaniac i know would be proud of.

work's been crazy and life has been kind of uneventful. i don't mind really hustling at the ol' place of employ as long as i'm blowing off the steam and the tension with some really hot dirty wild exhausting sex (which clearly isn't happening) or going out and dancing my bum off.

but i'm doing neither.

especially the sex.

goshfukkit.

somebody help a girl out?

i don't like mondays (tell me why)

i'm so sleepy.

i think i'm in the onepercent of people who react to reactine. i know that the name of the drug sort of implies that you would react to reactine, but, according to the innerweb, you aren't supposed to.

and if that *is* what's happening, i think it's a bit of a double edged blade - see, it's sucking the energy, the glow, the life out of me like some kind of sucking suck machine,it's making the skin at my hairline all dry and itchy. but it seems to have also make my period, my nemesis, the bane of my existence, disappear. or at least be ten days late.

mind you, i'm completely self diagnosing.

i could be pregnant.

with tnb's baby.

how freakin funny would that be?

it would be, as spo says, a corker.

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in other news, mr newly did NOT fall off the planet, as it may have appeared previously. *phew*. he's not, unfortunately, coming to visit for new year this year. he's opting for skiing in france over skiing in whistler. i imagine there are more females in france, as god knows there are only six in whistler.


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in other other news, i moved the waking up with sundae list to the sidebar, but feel free to comment in either the original post, or in whatever the most recent post is, and i'll addalong.

c'est formidable!

ok this is attempt two at this post. i'm no less enthusiastic, however.

ok so i had this fucking unbelievable idea.

ok so actually it was spo's idea, but i'm stealing it, dammit, 'cause he didn't exercise the idea to its fullest potential.

on his site he created a list of the top ten songs which get him out of bed in the morning. i think it'd be really cool to take that list and republish it here. yay wicked idea, raspberry. no wait, there's more.

i also want to list the songs added in the comments. and i want to add some songs of my own. and i want people to comment with the songs that get *them* going in the morning - those songs you play in the car when you are stuck in traffic when maybe you didn't get a lot of sleep, or maybe you aren't feeling that well, or maybe it's still technically yesterday 'cause you haven't been to bed but you have your performance review so can't call in sick, or maybe just want to stay in bed with the pets and a mug of tea and watch martha, or maybe that's just me.

then i want to create a playlist that makes some sort of sense with those songs. then i will burn it to a cd (not that we condone piracy here at the sundae salon). then i will send this cd to people who email (raspberry sundae at gmail dot com) me their addresses.

it might take me a bit though 'cause of the whirling dervish xmass frenzy of baking drinking shopping cocktail party that is my life (new coping strategy: alcohol plus busybusy = no thinkythinky) so you will have to be patient.

part the first: spo's list

1. Paul Simon – Me and Julio
   
2. Badly Drawn Boy - Once around the Block
   
3. Feist – Mushaboom
   
4. The Coral – In the Morning
   
5. Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc
   
6. Finlay Quaye – Sunday Shining
   
7. Kings of Convenience - I’d rather dance with you
   
8. Us3 - Cantaloop
   
9. Mr. Scruff - Get a move on
   
10. Billy Ocean – Get outta my dreams get into my car
    

part the second: the comments

1. coldplay - here comes the sun / beautiful world from emmy em
   
2. jack johnson - unnamed song from dbuc. sorry, dans, no cannibal corpse or napalm death. however, if i ever make an off to kill a postal worker compilation, i know who to call
   
3. the ramones - i wanna be sedated from mr. wolf
   
4. manic street preachers - girl who wanted to be a god from dan. how many fricking dans can there be?
   

part the third: sundae's pix

1. k-os - crabbukkit
   
2. ted leo and the pharmacists - little dawn or me & mia
   
3. lyrics born - pack up
   
4. clubfoot - kasabian
   
5. the stone roses - elephant stone
   
6. rage against the machine - bombtrack
   
7. the constantines - tank commander or nighttime / anytime (it's alright)
   
8. green day - basket case
   

ok i got a smidge carried away there. but go ahead. comment your picks if you haven't already, or even if you want to add more. i'll make executive editorial decisions (like pretending i didn't see bjork on the comment list), put together a decent collection and get the kiddo to give it a spiffy name.

how fun is that?

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edit - 9.24pm

i missed:

beastie boys: hey ladies

trix are for kids

hi, sorry, am depressed, feel uninspired uncreative unable to put my words down on the page.

business will resume as regularly scheduled imminently, i promise.

dec 6, 1989

Genevieve Bergeron- Nathalie Croteau - Anne-Marie Edward - Maryse Laganiere - Anne-Marie Lemay - Michele Richard - Annie Turcotte - Helene Colgan - Barbara Daigneault - Maud Haviernick - Maryse LeClair - Sonia Pelletier - Annie St-Arneault - Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz

drinking and looking and drinking and looking and drinking and looking

So I’m not even sure about what I want to write about. The fact that I didn’t go out on my date ‘cause he had to reschedule then promptly didn’t call all weekend? The fact that I pretty much just shopped with my mama and hid in my bedroom? The fact that I talked to tnb last night and at the end of the conversation nothing was clear, everything was confused, and I just wanted to cry?

Nah that’s all boring shit.

I have to go get my allergies tested again. My dr. thinks that the reason I’m so tired and sluggish and crap is ‘cause my allergies are changing and I’m getting some new ones. So I get to go get poked and prodded and go on my crazy diet where I lose tonnes of weight and all that good stuff.

Hopefully it’ll happen *after* Christmas and I can lose everything that I accumulate over the holiday season cause lordy lordy I *DO* accumulate. And how much would it suck to have to go on it *during* Christmas when everyone is having cocktails and appetizers and goodies? Though I guess if there’s any season where you can only eat turkey, Christmas is as good a time as any, huh?

Funny how I iprefaced this commentary in such a fashion as to mislead you into believing that it, somehow, would *not* be boring. Tricky bitch.

The Sister sent me, a few weeks ago, one of those inspirational emails about men picking fruit from the bottom of the tree, and how I’m apparently something that hangs out at the top of the tree. Tnb said to me last night that I deserve someone who’ll treat me well, that I deserve someone good and he’s bad he’s bad he’s bad.

It’s funny how the people you know always have such high opinions of you, but at the same time it can be seemingly impossible to get a date, or have a boy call you or talk to you or whatever.

It’s sad that, after spending the last few years eagerly anticipating my fulfilling fun filled future as a crazy cat lady I may actually be allergic to cats.

Now what will I do?

tis the season

from the desk of rick mercer

sweet you rock

so today i was out with the kiddo buying him a new tongue stud (he lost a bead. i don't ask, he doesn't tell) and i met a super hot piercer. of course the danger of dating a piercer would lie in him always wanting to pierce you. i mean, one or two would be good, in non-visible areas, but lets not kid - too many piercings is too many piercings.

of course, in karmic retribution for thinking lusty thoughts in the presence of my one and only beloved offspring, i promptly spilled half a cup of newly poured boiling hot green tea all over my breastesses.

i burned my left breast.

it feels like a really bad sunburn.

i'm not at all pleased.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

in other news, the kiddo has determined that he does not actually desire an ipod for christmas.no, he's instead come to the captitalist conclusion that he'd rather have a plethora of smaller gifts in place of one super cool large gifts. that's my little consumer, for you. therefore, i've picked him up the headphones pictured above. he's also getting a new snowboarding jacket, speakers & an amp for his computer, and some new cologne. or something. i dunno yet - now that i am not getting the ipod i actually have to put some thought into it.

stink.

the sister also poses a holiday shopping conundrum. she sort of just buys herself everything and anything she wants. what's a girl to do?

why shop for herself, of course. since thursday i've purchased two pairs of pants, a sweater, a tshirt, some new lip gloss, and two, countem two pairs of shoes. yay me.

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update sevenpm

clearly the whole tea incident was more serious than i had first suspected. in fact, i think i've died and gone to hell.

there are currently two different jennifer lopez movies on the television, it's saturday night, and i've got really nothing else to do.

i may be forced to watch the wedding planner.

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update eight20sixpm
someone googled "canada woman email addres that need man for long time relationship" and this journal came up. bless.

eight20nine
also "slutty undies".

a heart of stone a smoking gun

gentlemen take note. or ladies, as well, if are so inclined. we aren't in the business of discrimination here at the sundae sanitarium.

i have a fairly ascerbic sense of humour. which is to say, it can be edgy and not everyone gets it. you may or may not have noticed this during your sojourns amongst these pages. the best way in the world to gain my attention is to not only *get* my jokes, but be able to return them in kind.

now in order to *retain* my attention, you must be able to couple this sense of humour with sex appeal.

i know i know women all over the world will tell you what is most important to them is intelligence and a sense of humour.

and i'll agree, to an extent.

but when it comes right down to it, if you, as a man, want to take that crucial step from friend to lover. or, more accurately, want to avoid being delegated to the relationship purgagory which is "just a friend", you have to have the integral internal quality which will spur you over that... erm.. hump.

saying this is easy. defining the essential quality that allows such a paradigm shift is much more difficult. i know for me it is a combination of physical appearance, smell (yes smell), confidence and arrogance. humour is what gets you through the door, but it ain't gonna keep you there.

now what has inspired young raspberry to wax philosophic about the opposite sex this morning, you may be asking yourself. well, quite frankly, i've got a date. a date with someone whom i've seen briefly, but have mostly only conversed with from a distance – via the ehm ehss ehn, on the phone, that sort of thing. i know that the brain-attraction is there. it will be interesting to see if the physical attraction remains, or can sustain.

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.

mews

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.

people.

people.

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.

people.

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.

people.

we.

all.

know.



ps - tony heart's jessica

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.

fucker.

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

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.

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.

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.
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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)

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?

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...

grumble

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.

Dumbasses.

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.

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.

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?

22000

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.

anyway.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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 pissing.....me......off.

Mr Wolf's Notebook

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?

duh.

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?

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'.

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.

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.

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.