that big corner office in the sky....

I know I’ve talked about this before, but I’m really strongly impacted by music – a lyric or a chord can resound in me like few things can. Not sure why, as I’m completely musically inept, but there it is.

Today I was flipping through my itunes and realized it has been a while since I’ve listened to Matt Good. I have the In a Coma album saved on my work computer, cause it gives me a nice selection from his catalogue, so started listening to ‘oh be joyful’, and realized how much I actually love this song. There’s something about the plinky-plinky guitar bit in the middle that makes my belly tighten. Weird, huh? There’s no real explanation for it – I have no emotional connection to the man or the song – but it makes me feel… funny, for lack of a better word.

I got mildly scolded by my pharmacist the other night because I was 26 days overdue renewing the prescription for my meds. I knew I’d been fairly … er … laissez faire about taking them, but didn’t realize I had been *that* bad. Not good, sundae, not good.

Went looking at apartments last night and have found one that looks pretty promising – not too bad on the money, laminate flooring, and I can bring Agent Double-Oh-Kitty with me. Plus it’s in a neighbourhood close to a few of the kiddo’s friends, which makes him happy. The whole moving thing stresses me out, though – like a lot. Packing, cleaning, moving, setting up… I just want to make sure that everything is settled in time for Christmas…

Which, by the way, is a short 53 days away.

Gak.

got thrashed throughout the 30s

so i get this email thing from some management coaching company in vancouver. i'm not sure why - something to do with the five buh-jillion email addresses that i screen, but whatevs. in it today was this list of questions to ask when someone came storming into your office - it works for the office arena, but might also be useful for at home conflict type every day life situations, too, i think.

1) What's supposed to happen?
2) Who's responsibility is that?
3) How is that useful?
4) We don't need to be having this conversation.
5) What do you recommend?
6) Is this drama or about outcomes?
7) We're not paying for your memories.

ok maybe not #7 - unless of course you work at a happy ending massage place, in which case they are paying for their *own* memories... hey speaking of which, the architect's apartment building is also home to such a classy establishment. last night as we popped in for hot monkey sex after dinner (the problem with staying at my place now that my folks are back upstairs is that i'm super selfconcious about making lots of noise) there was a gentleman emerging from this place with quite the grin, let me tell you. the architect didn't put two and two together until, halfway up the first flight of stairs, i turned, looked at him, and made the universal hand signal for 'pull the goalie'. he almost fell backwards down the stairs laughing...

violent knight at the edge of your knife

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

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

moving on....

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

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

le sigh.

the hunt continues....

arg

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

bugger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the hardest button to button

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

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

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

oh plus he woke me up for sex.

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

we like him.

my blood before me begs me

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

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

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

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

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

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

you bring the discrepancies, i'll pour the drinks

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

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

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

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

bon appetit you've eaten me alive you realize

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

what to do?

third world war third round

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

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

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

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

good luck and good night.











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

route de la slack

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

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

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

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

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

born to blossom bloom to perish

raspberry's friday list of random facts

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

ain't no sex on the radio

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

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

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

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

black cats, red dogs, breakfast

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

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

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

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

le sigh.

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

ha that rocks.

from the wine guru

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

heh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i see you baby

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


=) xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the ability to reason that wears so thin

so last night the kiddo went to see rancid. i did not, but seethed quietly in jealous pudding. i did, however, go grocery shopping with my mum. you can see as how those two things are comparable, right?

riiiiggghhhttt.....

anyhoo, as we were pottering about the market like two old ladies at the church bake sale, i received a call from my offspring:

static-static-noise "pink with a big skull and crossbones!"
'what?' i asked.
static-noise-"really cool!" noise-noise "skull!" static-static
'oh, cool!' i responded enthusiastically, assuming that he was telling me that he was going to borrow money off a buddy to get a shirt and asking if i'd slide him the cash for it later.
static-static "you want it?"
'uh, sure!' i say, getting confused now.
"ok it's yours!" and he hangs up.

so the end result of this fractured conversation is that he got paid yesterday (this child with actual money of his own to spend thing is a great gig - i highly recommend it). he saw a pink zippy rancid hoody with a huge skull and crossbones on the back. and bought it for me. how sweet is my boy?

you know i'm fly you think i'm gettin high

ug i have girlie cramps today. this is why guys read girls' blogs, isn't it? to learn about the detailed workings of the female anatomy?

yeah that's what i thought.

you know, one of the coolest things about dating guys in their thirties is that they've been around females for a really long time. most of them have been in major relationships - they are not usually fazed by the icky bits anymore, and usually they are quite sympathetic.

punkrock boy resurfaced last night for his regular 'every three months or so' booty call. i declined the opportunity. look at me go. of course he promptly proceeded to tell me exactly what he would do to me if i changed my mind *fans self*. i remained firm in my resolve, however, and stayed home to watch tv and talk with the architect on the ehm-ess-ehn. now that it gets dark at 7pm i don't feel guilty about lying around in my pjs, drinking tea and chatting on the 'net.

ok - must work, and find some way to drug myself into not caring that my belly is trying to rip itself apart....

random confession #2

i generally bawl my eyes out at the end of 'cold case'. no idea why.

i think that the next time i hear that a fugitive is making a 'run for border', i, as an unarmed project manager, am going to walk off the job.

i remember when, i remember when i lost my mind

you know, i'm still not sure if i like that song or not. yes, i realize it's been a year. i'm just... undecided.

sat down on the architect's couch this afternoon - we'd gone for brunch and a shopping wander - and woke up 2.5 hours later. guess i needed a nap. i hate doing that though - it was a beautiful day and i feel as though i completely wasted it. bothers me to no end.

so friday night we went to see james murphy and the juan mclean at celebrities downtown. the evening started off well enough - naked rolling around, then drinks at a friends, then headed off to the club. the first dj (no idea who it was. anyone else there?) was pretty good, and the juan mclean was great. james murphy started off promisingly enough but, as the evening progressed, he either got drunk, lazy, or apathetic, (or, of course, all of the above) because i haven't heard so many trainwrecks since dj mm was first starting out and was throwing parties in his living room. as clarina pointed out, it seemed as though it was only a matter of time before he threw down some cc peniston, or maybe some c&c music factory. and we're not talking about in a kitchsy cool 90's dance music revival way. we're talking in a bad small town dance club / stereotypical gay bar / night at the roxbury kind of way. definately a whimper, and absolutely not a bang.

afterwards the architect, clarina, d-rod and i all headed down to spanish banks with some blankets and lay out on the beach, looked at the stars and listened to music. there's not too many places in the world where your gaze can drift from the cityscape, to the freighters in the harbour, to the mountains resting in the moonlight all with one sweep of the head. it's moments like that when i remember how lucky i am to be here.

so we hung out until 5.30 or so, headed home and napped for a couple of hours, then i hooked up (not like that you freaks) with my sister for some sushi and some shopping. we seem to have mended our fences, which is a really good thing. she is the family member i am closest to - i hate not getting along with her.

anyhoo... i'm going to put on my jammies and watch some tv. i'm still kinda sleepy. being up for 24 hours then getting only 3.5 hours sleep will do that to you at my age, i guess....

let's waste time chasing cars

so here it is, friday again. for those of you trapped in the 'lesser' parts of canada, keep in mind that it is going to be sunny and around 20deg. celsius all weekend.

heh - suckers.

mind you this positivity is mitigated by the fact that it will probably start raining sometime mid next week and not stop till.. oh.. say... may of next year.

so tonight we are going to see james murphy of lcd soundsystem / dfa records and i am *so* excited. i need to go dancing. like i NEED to go dancing - i am feeling sluggish. now fall for me is a time of setting into dinner parties and restaurants with friends and warm nights at home wrapped up in a quilt, drinking tea or wine, watching movies. but i still have to get out and shake my skinny white ass once in a while. i dunno - i guess it's just something i need to do once in a while to feel young. funny, huh?

my folks are going to the uk / spain for about a month - my mom for a little less time than my dad - so i'm taking care of the house. i'm pretty excited about it - there are def. worse places to look after. my biggest concern will be the kiddo getting himself up out of bed in time for school every morning, 'cause i sure as heck can't stick around do kick him out the door. well, i guess i could switch my hours up for the time period, but i kind of like this whole getting to work before everyone else, having some time to myself in the morning thing. i like sitting here when the lights are still off, drinking a coffee, reading the news and my horoscope and the funnies. i don't feel like i've started my day correctly when i get in late. i'm not a 'by the book' person, but i do take some comfort in my morning routines.

i bet you look good on the dancefloor

i'm tired of winter already, and it's barely begun. i want to wear little dresses and flipflops, not high heels and wool. to think that only a couple of weeks ago i was thinking to myself 'why won't the seasons *change* already'. can't please some people, huh?

from the books of 'classic raspberry moments': the other night i was eating spaghetti. i slurped a string. the end flipped up and hit me in the eye.

yes.

i poked myself.

in the eye.

with spaghetti.

i gotta tell you, spaghetti sauce in the eye is not one of the more pleasant things i've ever experienced. in fact, it's possibly up there as one of the least. don't recommend it at all.

only i could possibly require safety glasses for dinner.

a dead generator in a cloud of exhaust

ohhh i can barely open my eyes this morning. it's winter, yo - like cold and chilly and damp. how did this happen? where did summer go? how is it that i spent such little time at the beach? so few hours on patios sipping cocktails and watching the boys go by?

i could sit here with my head in my hands and fall asleep in about thirty seconds. i'm not kidding you. why am i so tired? no idea, actually. i think it's the fact that it's grey and nasty out, perhaps coupled with the messed up sleep patterns of the weekend. though i did get lots of sleep - not too much, i don't think, but just enough.

holy fuck this is a boring post. what could i do to possibly make it more dull? why tell you about my new crockpot and how excited i am to try it out, of course.

or not.

jeebus.

i did go treasure hunting at value village yesterday, and came out with a grey pencil skirt, a great turquoise angora wrap sweater, and a black bat-wing blouse. that was pretty exciting. well, for me anyway, cause i desperately need fall clothes and i am desperately low on cash. i forgot how simultaneously rewarding and frustrating it can be. oh i also got a cool new purse - babyphat for $3. i heart that. *and* i made super yummy chocolate chip oatmeal cookies....

how spoiled is my son, though? i called the kiddo at work yesterday. he put in his supper order (choices - baby potatoes, green beans & baked salmon; roast beef, pan roasted potatoes & green beans; samosas & rhubarb chutney). he made his selection (went with the beef, requested hotsauce on the meat & jamaica mistake salad dressing on the veggies) and i hand delivered it to him at work with a tall glass of milk. then, two hours later, i went over to deliver two straight from the oven cookies. he's the prince, for sure.

ok now that i've rendered my male audience comatose and completely destroyed my reputation, i'm going to get some work done...

you fighting me off like a fire does

yay for fridays... i need to be part of an organization that believes in flex days. i could do with every other friday off. or monday - i'm easy. (shut it)

the architect is taking me out for fancy dinner tonight - we are going to quattro on fourth avenue, primarily because it's more or less right across the street from his house. gotta take advantage of this, because all that is across the street from his new place is .. uh.. i think the cactus club. close to it, anyhoo. either way - not bad for a quickie meal (eat 'cause you're hungry and don't want to think about it) but really i try to avoid eating at places like earls & the cactus club. there are so many other great places in vancity - why would you settle for average? a first date with someone who suggests the cactus club or earls is probably the only date. is that an unreasonable criteria upon which to judge someone's character?

nah..

anyhoo dinner. yeah so i checked out the menu online to make sure there would be something i can eat, and sure enough there's quite a bit that looks promising. i think i'm going to step out of my usual salmon / arrabiatta pasta / salad italian restaurant rut and either go with the venison chop or (as a total departure) cornish game hen. i've never tried it, but i've always been fascinated. also, i checked the allergy type properties of it and it seems as though i should be ok.

for my birthday, my brother gave me a copy of insatiable, the autobiography of gael greene - a food critic slash author. one of the classic quotations (which sums my personality up swimmingly as well) is where she muses the two greatest inventions of the 20th century are the cuisanart and the clitoris. she's a bit of a hedonist, you see. reading about her adventures in food - travelling all across france in a veritable orgy of sex and food - makes me really wish i wasn't allergic to all the fun stuff, you know? i love food. i have no idea why i don't weigh a buhjillion pounds. i could cook and eat 24/7. le sigh.

eating and fucking. fucking and eating. the two are inextricably intertwined - a fact illustrated by the way people gain weight whenever they start a new relationship. well, actually, i've avoided it thus far (i checked the scale last night), but the architect claims to have put on 6lbs. i bake, you see. can't help myself.

ok must work now. forgot my breakfast so had to call the divine ms. u and ask her to pick me up a bagel when she makes her morning timmys stop. i may die in the meantime.

twist within this verbose mystery

ok so there is some very good advice / stuff to think about in the comments below. i shall ponder.

on an entirely different note, last night the architect and i went to the noodle box - a new noodle bar open on 4th avenue. all i can say is NUM. the space is open and modern - really clean lines, with exposed ductwork etc uptop. the lighting is subdued but bright enough that the atmosphere feels clean and crisp - you can see what you are eating and i like that.

i had cambodian jungle curry with tofu - hot & spicy and flavourful and fresh. the architect had malaysian lamb curry - medium spicy but oh so rich and served with crispy roti. just awesome taste and dinner for two for under $25. they don't have their liquor license yet - my only complaint, as the perfect accompaniment to the meal would have been an icy cold beer - but i will be back.

oh especially since suzanne, the manager, gave us a couple of coupons for free dishes.

what comes around goes around

(apologies in advance for the text-heavy post)

i'm a big believer in karma. i believe that, as you go through life dumping negativity into the shopping cart of personal interaction, sooner or later you are going to have to hit the checkout and sometimes sometimes when you hit the teller it's gonna be a little more expensive than you thought.

where's this drawn out poor excuse for a metaphor coming from? well clearly i'm still pissed about my sister. i did an upper arm strength yoga workout last night and so chilled a bit, but all things considered i'm irritated as fuck. a few months ago, i came to terms with the fact that i was going to build a life for myself here in vancouver. like - up until this point what i was doing was sort of an in-between thing. i didn't know where i was going, and didn't know what i wanted to do, but this thing here was only good for right now.

around june, i guess, something flipped in my head. i bought a raincoat (after four years in vancouver i finally bought a rainjacket). i started sorting through my stuff - stuff that's been gathering dust since i dumped it into storage. i started accepting the fact that maybe i should put down some roots and stop waiting for... whatever... to come along. this is it - this is life. grab happiness and run with it, no matter what form it takes.

why the change? no idea. maybe my meds really are working. maybe it was summer and i got lots of vitamin d. maybe it was just... time.

regardless - i started evaluating my relationships with my family. i started feeling like a bit of a second class citizen. the way my sister condescended to me all the time started to wear thin. the disparity in the way my folks treat my siblings and i started becoming obvious. so i started to check out.

i feel as though i've spent five (at least) years just accepting the treatment of others for fear of making them not like me. i've wanted so much to belong that it got to the point that my own hurt feelings or distress didn't matter anymore. and, what's more, in the midst of depression i wasn't entirely sure if it was just me - if i was making it all up in my head. now, though, i am fairly sure that it's not. the tone which my sister used with me yesterday was a perfect example. when i tried to talk to my mom about it later, she took the sister's side without even pausing to consider what i was saying.

at dinner last night i sat with my parents and wanted to say something. i wanted to say that i've been so insecure, that i've wanted so badly for people to just LIKE me, that i forgot what it meant to take care of myself - to like myself. now it feels as though i'm remembering. what i don't know is what the fallout will be - or if i even care anymore.

family tree is burning the rocket's waiting on the lawn

you know, i could not, at this point, get away from my family any fucking faster.

not my dad - he's kind of normal. which, in the grand scheme of things, is fucked up, considering.

my sister just ripped into me 'cause she wants me to have a serious talk with the kiddo about taking jujitsu seriously. i said to her that she can do it, cause her and her boyfriend have set this up. i got the laugh 'oh yeah i forgot - 'cause we are doing something nice for your son' scoff. this, of course, pissed me off. 'that's shit.' i responded. 'don't say crap like that. you and dave set this up - i'm not going to lecture the kiddo on your behalf'.

'oh i LOVE the new yelly you' she says condescendingly as she turns away.

you know, just 'cause i've started NOT backing down everytime someone disagrees with me all of a sudden i'm the problem child. i've spent five years being so insecure that i'd go along with anything just to make people like me. well guess what - i'm fucking not going to anymore and if you don't like it then you can all go to hell. don't fucking try to passive agressively guilt trip me into just going along with whatever it is you figure is right, without taking into consideration me, what i want, or how i feel. it's bullshit. i'm an independent human being and i deserve the consideration of my family and friends.

turn that shit up

i wonder if chad ever found the jalapeno i dropped down the back of his pants? anyone? anyone? bueller?

(that's me showing my age. it's a sad sad state of affairs when half of the people i encounter on a daily basis don't get that joke. le sigh.)

so the architect installed new brake pads for me yesterday. i can now officially stop anytime i want to. this is a good thing 'cause there were a few moments late last week when i was fairly sure i was just gonna keep on keepin' on, if you know what i'm saying. this newfound stopping power came in particularly handy this morning, as cfox has set up on the north end of the tunnel, so everyone is coming to a complete stop to gawk at the spectacle. what - you've never seen a guy with bedhead throwing subway breakfast sandwiches at passing motorists before? sheesh - get out of the suburbs, folks, and get a life. yawhn... simply passe, dahling.

so i now have 'everlong' as my ringtone. i'm fairly excited about this, since i've figured a way to get (cheep ass midi - damn bberry hi-tech lo-tech) ringtones with little fuss and less muss. this is a big deal 'cause my work pays for my crackbaby service and therefore i always have a certain amount of guilt using it for fun things like finding the address for the foggy dew so that i can go drink and other respectable activities as such.

PS - i made the architect vegan cinammon pancakes for breakfast yesterday. i rock.

one week since you looked at me

ok so last night i took the architect to the blogger meetup. he spent the first fifteen minutes we were there trying to not laugh at how nervous i was.

WORLDS COLLIDING, JERRY - WORLDS COLLIDING!

it's all good though. we were sitting in the smoking room chatting with my girlfriend and his response to whether or not he's curious about this blog was more or less a great summary of his character - it's my space and he figures i should get to have it to myself.

ps. i have a hot girlfriend.

i didn't take my camera 'cause it was stop one of three for us and i didn't want to have to worry about losing it at stops two or three, so you'll have to rely on others....though if anyone out there has a photo or two that's not too hideous, please email my way thankeeeee xoxo

daft punk is playing at my house

i have big hair for some reason today. i don't really get it - nothing was done differently (well yesterday i slept in so just pinned it in twists while wet (the hair not me) and ran out the door so it's different from that, i guess) but today? no idea.

i've been at work already for almost 45 min 'cause i'm leaving early today. the architect is doing a mb ride up in the whizz so i'm tagging along for kicks and giggles.

heh wow. just had an energy crash full on... it's almost like taking a downer and having it hit you all at once. sort of cool feeling, really, except that i have to be here for another seven hours or so. yeesh. damn my work ethic which makes me come in early when i want to actually leave early... most of the rest of the people i work with just take off. not to mention the fact that i was here for at least an extra hour yesterday.. oh well. not like it isn't rewarded eventually.

ok so i'm bringing the architect to burquitlam for chad's blogger meetup on saturday. this is a little scary to me - like SERIOUS worlds colliding. he knows that i have this thing, but is not so interested in reading it or knowing where it is - he figures it'd be too much like reading my diary. and, of course, he's right. i worry that in a round about way some of his friends may find it, but i guess as long as they respect the fact that he doesn't *want* to know what's here, then we're all good right? riiiiighhhttttt.....

in other news....

i have no idea what i'm going to do about mikeb. i think he's really going to let this woman ruin our friendship. he spent the entire weekend shooting down absolutely everything i said, hasn't answered the two texts i have sent him since we got back, and in all honesty doesn't seem too interested in being my friend anymore. i told him long ago that for me to accept her (someone who's fucked with his head the ENTIRE time i've known him) is akin to me asking him to accept me spending time with crazy jeremy. he, of course, doesn't agree. but in a sense i'm being proven right even as we speak - one of jeremy's favourite tactics was to alienate the women in his life from their friends and support networks. he was such a good manipulator that he could turn any small comment into an 'us against them' scenario. do i know that is what she's doing? no. it just sure seems like it. i've tried really hard to NOT let my feelings about the relationship colour our interaction. but this is hard when he tells my sister and my boss that they are totally back together and it's creating tension between us, before i even *knew* they were back together. if there's tension, he's been generating it, up to this point. now, though, i'm throwing up my hands in frustration.

the other theory that's been posed by some of my guy friends is that he's kinda jealous of the architect. he's never really known me to to be really happy in a relationship and, now that i am, he doesn't quite know how to deal with it. ahh i don't know about this one - i'm not, in any way, jealous of his relationships with women, so why would he be jealous of mine?

mostly i think i'm just going to sit back and let him figure shit out. if he does, wicked. if he doesn't, well, i guess that's the choice he's making. it doesn't have to be a 'her or me' situation - he just seems to want to turn it into one.

which makes me sad, a little.

nothing for a week then three in a row

it's like multiple orgasms - raspberry flavoured ones of course.

No one came up with a better idea than me, which is shocking.

So, Foggy Dew on Sat, no later than 8 pm... Trust me on that one. I'll be
there at 6 pm.

Friday.

Got a spot picked out in the coat check to sleep over.

If you happen to have a blog (haha, nerd) please start letting people know about this through it.

Chad

you know you wanna.

also

nicest thing that has happened since friday morning:

me to architect, face buried in shoulder: "i like waking up with you"
him to me: "yup it's pretty awesome"

the last of the long weekends

i'm so fucking lazy right now and i hate everything. i've got that suspicious jealous me against the world mentality where i'm convinced that everyone is out to get me and i can't trust anyone. family is cold and standoffish; friends are decidedly disinterested and wish they were elsewhere when in my company; architect is.. well i'm not sure.

the one who is far away is trying to convince me that he is who he says but all signs point to otherwise - a little border town where you can order biscuits and gravy and if they have the stuff to make biscuits and gravy well then dammit you can have biscuits and gravy otherwise you are shit out of luck.

my head's all hunter s. i'm off my meds and had kind of a crappy weekend and i don't know if it really was all my fault or if it's just that the people i'm 'friends and family' with are so used to me being easy going and taking whatever shit they lay out that the minute i stand up for myself they accuse me of ruining everything for everyone and how dare i actually resist what they have to say.

oh fuck look she's growing a backbone.

i'm so fucking lazy right now and i hate everything. i want to run through the aisles destroying shit smashing smashing crushing everyone and everything that comes between me and self immolation. someone put me out of my misery 'cause the slow cooker suicide i've embarked upon ain't coming fast enough.

you think you know a lot about my kinda woman

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

eight things you don't know about me

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

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

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

here the drummer get wicked

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

heh. yeah i didn't think so.

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

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

shh don't tell him i said that.

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

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

a song for many seasons, i got so many reasons

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

this is a good thing.

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

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

ok i'll stop making you vomit now.

in other news....

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

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

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

forever feels like home

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

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

not that you would have noticed.

ahem.

anyhoo.

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

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

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

when the city lights, fading

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

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

ahem.

anyhoo.

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

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


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

you musta been so high

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

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

vengeful bastard.

hang on - coffee.

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

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

xo

drive like an asshole day

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

fucker.

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

i'll let you know....

a polyphonic prostitute, the motor's on fire

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

ergo, i'm going to steal from peechie.

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

dear bloggity

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

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

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

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

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

can't talk now with a mouth full of love

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

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

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

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

so there.

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

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

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

The Return of Don Ciavarro

I smell like ass.

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

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

The Don is back.

Don Ciavarro.

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

...

Someone. Clean my fucking house.

Scrub my balls for Christ sake.

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

I take bad photos that make my writing look decent.

I am terrible at blogging.

But.

I'm awesome at being me.

Plus I have a shiny car.



It's all I have to give.

Someone needs to start a fire right here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Night on earth.....

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

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

Motherless?

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

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

.

Next stop Russian Massage Parlour.

.

And more vodka.

.

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

.

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

.

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

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

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

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

ok kids so here we go.

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

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

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

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

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

this is a throwdown, a showdown

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

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

i think so.

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

let's see what you got.

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

it's gonna get sticky....

bad blogger

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

yes, i introduced the architect to mikeb.

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

bastards.

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

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

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

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

open to falling from grace

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

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

le sigh.

i miss the kiddo.

history unfolds for you.. just shut your eyes

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

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

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

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

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

make a mess and fuck all the rest

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

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

i do, of course, have a point.

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

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

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

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

which, of course, i liked.

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

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