Greed

You know, as I contemplate the economy's spectacular implosion, I am forced to ponder wtf actually happened to all the money. Take any number of major corporations - they somehow had enough to pay execs millions of dollars in yearly salaries and then all of a sudden - nothing. Layoffs, closing plants and offices, huge packages to the same executives. Or the lightbulb factory where I used to work - I came in at a time of huge financial prosperity. Within two years, they were laying off over half the workforce (we called it Black Thursday).

Who was held accountable for the financial debacle? The CEO who presided over the fuckup is still in situ. How is this fair, when the folks who showed up for work every day and did their jobs as they were supposed to were laid off? Seems to me as though the top level execs should have been the first out the door, since their principal duties are generally comprised of keeping the company fiscally solvent, no?

Multi-billion dollar bailout packages for companies that can't run themselves effectively kinda make me nauseous, especially when it's reported that as soon as the money was received they scheduled spa vacations for their executives. How does that not make you sick? The sense of entitlement some people have astounds me. Families are losing their homes; going bankrupt due thanks to medical expenses; barely able to make ends meet and this company is spending 23K on spa treatments for its execs. They justify it by saying the retreat was required for company morale. I submit that a steak dinner and a pep talk would have sufficed, considering they were on the brink of bankruptcy.

Sloth - Second only to Gluttony for the rank of Raspberry's Favourite Sin

It's kinda hazy out today, still, and so it's making me not want to leave my bedroom, despite the fact that our floors desperately need a scrubbing and I want to bake some bread.

Le sigh.

Weekend != eventful. Which is good, I suppose, considering the debauchery (chemical and gustatory) of the weekend previous. Someone of my advancing years should not indulge too many of this type of weekend in a row. That sort of nonsense, as well as excessive exposure to the sun's harmful rays, will lead to premature aging. No one wants a dried Raspberry, this is for sure. On the other hand, lack of exposure to the sun's rays leads to an unripened Raspberry. I've been trying to decide on a good day to head over to the pool and was leaning towards Thursday, but I have just received a call to put in a couple o' hours at the salon. Wednesday may be the day. You know, in case anyone wants to come with.

Chuckle & Grin

Canada doesn't want you

"Stephen Baldwin, who has threatened to move to Canada if Barack Obama is elected, has now challenged the candidate to box for charity. "I'd like to knock some good sense into Barack," Alec's right-wing bro said at the Printing House Gym in the Village. "I wouldn't hurt him. But if he wins the election, he'll hurt me. He's a cultural terrorist." This from the man who enriched us all with "Sex Monster" and "Snakeman.""

Source - NY Daily News.com

I was here to please; I'm even on my knees

Still Bronte, for what it's worth. I've even pulled the curtains in the bedroom. They're red velvet and block the world out oh-so-well.

Take a lil look at the blogroll to the right: I've been wasting days reading through my old posts and the comments that match and have added some of the folks who are still out there, somewhere, under the rainbow.

Fuckinell! Someone is driving up and down my street with the bass cranked so high on their car stereo that it is actually HURTING MY HEARS (typo but I'm keeping it). Am I really getting that old or is it ok that I'd like to go outside and smash his/her windshield in with my air conditioner? Smashysmashy rage! And there they go again... OK I live on a really quiet street that dead ends in a canyon. Where are you going, little bassbin twin? What are you looking for?

---

OK so I have to stop reading my old posts. Going back through my personal history is having a weird effect on my mental health - like I can't shake the feeling that I'm just not fun anymore; that my life used to be so much more interesting than it is now. I need to stop rehashing my past, thinking about how much fun I *used* to have, and remind myself of how good things are now. I'm just not sure how to shake the funk and get over it, is all.

Do you think that

since Madonna and Guy are getting divorced, she'll give him his balls back so he can make good movies again?

Seriously.

I spent all day yesterday in a bit of a moody funk, reading through old blog entries and semi-wishing I was still crazy so I could still write well and still be off the hook fun to hang out with. I think I'm maybe a bit dull, nowadays. Perhaps not, though - just my blog is.

Maybe I just need to masturbate more. Heh.

Anyhoo - I spent all of yesterday in bed. I'm blaming the semi-flu the architect has gifted me with (I'm still a bit lightheaded) (shut up, you), but really need to get out of the house today, or else I may go crazy. As it is I've been boring the cat with my chatter. You know you are doing poorly when even the CAT leaves the room to avoid a conversation with you. Sheesh.

Me & Emily

I'm feeling a little Bronte today, and am lying here in my pjs with a glass of juice and a plate full of hummus and pita chips. There will surely be crumbs in the bed, but I'll blame the architect and no one will be the wiser.

Right?

Anyway so I've been flipping through old blog posts and checking out people who used to comment. Most of them have gone away - blogs and all - yet I'm still here. I wonder where they all went? Did they get bored with their current situations and begin new ones? Did they just give up the innerweb, bored with blogging and its plebian sameness? I wonder....

Rollcall:
newly single
dean simon, aka the farmer in the deli
ridley
write hard

There are more....

----------------------------
My gmail status is 'insufficient madness'. Someone who knows me from now not then inquired. What's insufficient, he asked? Seems like the world has enough. I pointed out that it's really just a comment on how I feel as though I can't write worth shit when I'm not batshit insane. Almost worth going off the meds for, no?

Weekend Roundup

So even thought it took me a bit to get into the idea of going out on Friday, I ended up having so much fucking fun I'm really glad I did. Of course, having to cook dinner for 13 people on Saturday when I was more than slightly rEtarded was somewhat less than a good time, but still.

Round about 3/4 of the way through the evening, TCM played da funk, and I had a major flashback to first summer I was a grad student. It was hot, sunny, and I was hanging with my prof and one of the other students all the time & we had SO much fun. We went to this biker party out in the middle of nowhere 'cause Monte was spinning, and we ended up in the parking lot dancing in the rain. It was one of those moments that will just always be in your memory as a highlight of your life, you know?

Let's talk turkey

OK so clearly my days of shit disturbing and getting folks all riled up are over. Le sigh.. I guess that's what happens when you flake on your blog for a year. I'm trying to be better! I swear!

So the architect and I were in the grocery store last night picking up Butch (the turkey)* and the lady behind the till said "what are you guys doing? It's not Thanksgiving yet!" To which I naturally scoffed that of course it is, if you are Canadian. We then had an interesting discourse about the differences between Canada and the US holiday wise - meaning she asked if Canadians have Christmas at the same time as the US. I politely bit my tongue and said yes, of course, but we have way more fun with Boxing Day - Canadians are a pugilistic sort.

So I'm going to see the Crystal Method do a dj set tonight and I'm pretty frickin excited about it. Actually, that's totally a lie. I'm TRYING to get excited about it. It's just that I'd way rather sit in a great restaurant and have a meal and a few bottles of wine with friends than go to a club. Oh I *AM* getting old...




* Please see "Dave Cooks the Turkey". All of my birds since my first experience of that story have been named Butch as an homage.

prop (h)ate

OK so I may be taking the lid off the proverbial barrel of monkeys here, but off we go regardless.

How easy for you is it to be friends with (like invite into your home friends with, not just be cordial to at a social gathering friends with) someone who has political opinions so completely distasteful to you that it makes you feel sick to your stomach?

Case in point - the other evening, a friend of the architect's (and by extension kind of a friend of mine) changed their fb status to 'xx wants you to vote yes on prop 8'. (For those of you not in the know, Prop 8 is the bill which wants to overturn California's decision to allow gay marriage.) I find this morally repugnant. Sure sure, I can understand how you may be religious and not approve of the gay lifestyle, the same way I understand how some people can be anti-abortion.*

HOWEVER what I don't get is the self serving self INVOLVED bullshit idea that you have the right to decide what is ok for everyone else. I mean, aren't we supposed to live in a society that advocates all men equal under god? Moreover, isn't this supposed to be a world in which there is a distinct separation between church and state?

That whole 'traditional definition of marriage' argument is bullshit. Before 1967 (Loving v Virginia), interracial marriages were against the law in many states (still are in many Arab countries). Should we revert to that? Fuck if you want to get really historical, you can find justification for SLAVERY in the bible. We redefine traditions every six seconds - it's the evolution of culture.

We've come so far, people - we've learned so much (as a society) about how to accept people as equals. Let's just take this one more step, ok? No one is going to force you to marry a gay man or a lesbian woman or even go for coffee with them, if it offends you so greatly. Just, please, accept the fact that two men raising a child (or a dog) in a happy household is more of a marriage than an unhappy or abusive man and woman living together ignoring or mistreating their children. Gender does not a marriage make - companionship, friendship, love, and a decision to live together and weather good times and bad; a willingness to make a public and private commitment to be faithful to another person for the rest of your days - let THIS be the only traditional definition of marriage that matters. Let love live.



* Notice here I said anti-abortion, not anti-CHOICE. That's a major distinction and I did it purposefully. While you have the right to say abortion isn't ok for YOU, no way do you have the right to say that I can't make that decision for myself.

fried green tomatoes

I ate too much tonight, and drank too much wine, but what else are you supposed to do when you show up at the gulf coast restaurant and bottles of wine are half off? OK so I may have yakked but it was worth it, dammit. The architect is currently snoring it off at the other end of the couch... I'e been strictly forbidden from taking photos of him while he's snoozering, otherwise I'd have a sweet shot of him with his eyes closed, mouth open, and hands folded across his belly.

Plus now I don't feel so guilty about eating aforementioned fried green tomatoes. mmmmmmmm

I ended up working the salon today, which was pretty cool. I mean, our house is still a mess and I am on the ship tomorrow so no cleaning there, but I figure I can shop and clean and cook and still get a good dinner party together for Saturday. I'm cool like that.

chopin in the dark

The architect is asleep in the bedroom and the chat is asleep on his fugly cushion on the couch and it's 9pm. I cannot possibly go to bed at 9pm. Well fuck it of course I can, it's just that we pulled the couch out today and I napped for 2 hours so I'm only moderately tired instead of obscenely tired like I have been for the last two weeks.

I think I'm getting back into the swing of SD - feeling not quite so alone again. Saturday I went for drinks in the afternoon with a great group of people and it was just what I needed - a few stiff cocktails in good company. Now I'm focused on getting the thank you cards out and the menu planned for my annual Lost Waifs and Orphans Thanksgiving Dinner. I guess this year we're the waifs and/or orphans but whatevs - that makes it even better. I'm just following the Nick Hornby guide to unemployment; breaking my life up into 1/2 hour units and it seems way more manageable.

It rained like a mofo here last night. I like sitting inside listening to the rain - always have. There's something about hearing the water run down through the gutters to the street, hearing the cars hiss by, hearing the wind and the drops hit the windows when you are all curled up inside in your jammies that makes the world feel kinda cozy. Down here, especially, since it only rains so very rarely. I've started scouting for a stand alone electric stove for our living room, since we don't have any heat in here at the moment. There's an ugly gas radiator stored in the cupboard, but I refuse to pull that out when we can get something chic and cozy - something that kinda looks like a fire. I miss my old fireplace.

It gets dark here so frickin' early. I remember being amazed at how much shorter the days were when I moved from PeeGee to Vancouver, now here I am in a part of the world where Zeus shuts the light off at 6pm on the button, banging his thunderstick on the children's doors as he does room check. Lights out... lights out... I'm still trying to adjust, and inevitably I find myself getting ready for bed then discovering that it's only 7.30. When's fall back? That will make it even worse.

thread count and other pressing issues

So here I am back in SD, reclining upon 660 thread count sheets (yay wedding presents!) and drinking pineapple juice trying to kill this frickin' chest cold someone in Vancouver was sweet enough to pass on. Sheets = good wedding presents; colds, not so much, in case you are shopping for the next bride to be on your list.

It's funny how when I was up in Van I missed my house and my stuff, and how once I got back here I missed my friends and family and the kiddo. It's like I don't know what I want. Actually, I do - I want everyone to move here. The weather is soooo much nicer. Seriously. The architect told me I'd get bored of the constant sunshine, but that smacks of ridiculousness.

I am, as well, completely exhausted. The week run up to the reception was exactly that - me going at a dead run trying to get everything ready. In the end, some stuff worked out and some stuff didn't, but I think everyone had a really good time, so that's all that is important, right?

Pocketbook romance

We've been having an email argument (centered around finances, as usual) all day. I've come out of it with a bad feeling in my belly and the worst temptation to just stay in Vancouver after our reception.

This temptation, by the way, is currently being fanned by the sister, who insists upon sending me job ads. Not entirely selfless, this girl, though I puzzle over what place I would have in her life now that she's got herself a steady boyfriend. I digress.

I've spent the better part of the day on the verge of sobbing my eyes out. Nothing like going for a mani/pedi/brow wax and having to choke back the bawl as the esthetician rubs your cuticles away.* The architect is burned out and unable to bring in more money. I am still sans green card and pretty much in the same boat. What to do? My only money option seems to be to stay behind in Vancouver and get a job. Hopefully the parents can put up with me for six months or so and I can put some cash aside. The thought of this, though, leaves me completely in the weeds. I don't have anything anymore - no car, no room of my own, my friends have moved on with their lives. I share the architect's space surrounded by furniture he's paid for. I can lay claim to a few kitchen items and the quilt on my bed - other than that, I have nothing. Nothing.

They say that you are not defined by your material possessions, but you are surely defined by your lack of them, and I have nothing of my own, anymore.





* I have a barter deal going with my manicurist - I poke around at her website and she gives me monthly mani-pedis. No money transferred hands. God I sure did need that pedicure, though.

Fly me to the moon

So I'm heading up to Vancity on Thursday for the second of a billion wedding celebrations. I mean, shit - if you have a good time doing something once, why not keep doing it? Seriously.

Anyhoo, I'm downloading some books to put on my iPhone for the flight. Dude wtf didn't I think of this before? I can listen and only have to carry the phone. Oh fuck let's not kid - I will have to take a couple-twelve books with me anyway, but I mean this idea is the shit.

OMG I just realized it's free burrito day at chipotle.... God I'm going to be a frickin whale.

Into the Infinite

RIP David Foster Wallace, dead from an apparent suicide at his home this past Friday. He was, arguably, the premier essayist of the postmodern era - surpassing (in my opinion) even David Sedaris and Hunter Thompson. His distinctive style - rambling prose, lush facts, and deliciously tangential footnotes - made him both a pleasure and a challenge to read.

I would like to say that I practice the sincerest form of flattery when I make my meagre attempts to construct creative non fiction, and that I model my work after his, but I have neither the talent nor the innate intelligence to do so. The man was a walking encyclopedia of fact and somehow managed to be the Cliff Claven of our generation without being annoying or pedantic. Moreover, what he didn't know, he researched - exhaustively. For example, a footnote to this article on the Maine Lobster Festival includes an apology to the readers of Gourmet Magazine (the article's first publication point) for missing the opportunity to interview the sole member of PETA present at the fest, for the purposes of adding an alternative viewpoint to the narrative.

I respect that.

I respect and relate to the urge to learn *everything* about a topic; the urge to immerse yourself completely in the archane minutiae of a subject matter and burst forth from the other side perhaps not smarter, but infinitely richer than you were a short while previous.

I know nothing about DFW's personal life. I don't know if he suffered from depression, addiction, or societal malaise. I know only that I hope he's now sitting with Damiel and Cassiel, listening in on the words and thoughts and dreams of the world for, if ever there was a sentiment that personified DFW's work, it is "I want to know everything".

It's true

I am sitting on a step waiting for the library to open. Yes I am that cool.

You spin me

So last night I hosted my quasi-monthly geek group gathering. What's a geek group, you ask? Well it's a few people who get together approximately monthly to discuss a peer reviewed article selected by another member of the group*, do some eating, and have some drinks.**

Well, I guess I drank WAY more than I thought I had, because after everyone had left (around 9.30 I suppose), I was all of a sudden LOADED. Like I got the spins and went to the bathroom to force myself to yak. SO GROSS - red wine is kind of like acid coming back up. I'm sure you want to hear that. My point is, that when I came back to bed I still had the spins - I was doing the whole one foot on the ground thing and nothing was helping. Dude how did this happen? I was sure that I'd only had a couple of glasses of wine, though upon closer inspection I guess I did drink about 3/4 of a bottle. But that's not that strange for me. The drunky spinny thing? Not normal. Not approved, to say the least.

In any case, I quite expected to feel like ass this morning, but it's not too bad. I'm STARVING though, and craving pizza, which isn't the best thing for my ever expanding waistline. I may have to buck up and go get some in any case because the rumbling coming from my belly region just startled the cat. Heh.







* Last night our selection was "The Pub and the Irish Nation" by Bradley Kadel. It was pretty good, but was an excerpt from his dissertation so it wasn't completely well flushed out - there was some basic information missing that would have made it much better as a stand-alone article.
** I made Dublin Coddle and soda bread. There was a lot of Guinness and Smithwicks consumed, though clearly not by me.

Ug

OK so there was a House marathon on yesterday afternoon / evening. I started watching somewhere around 4pm and finally tore my eyes away at around midnight when an episode I'd already seen slipped into rotation. Not an episode I'd seen anytime before, mind you, one I'd already seen THAT DAY. I've never really watched the show before, and yet all of a sudden I was fascinated and in deep lust with Hugh Laurie. Rawr. I also drank a bottle and a half of wine as I watched, so I'm not sure how much the one had to do with the other.

At any rate, rawr. I do feel mildly hungover, though - nothing too crazy, just that irritating ick feeling in my left temporal lobe (that's the technical term. Learned it on House yesterday) (Heh).

So I'm going back up to Vancity in a week or two for our wedding reception. We've been half-assed planning it for months and now here it is three weeks away and I'm starting to panic about the money and whether or not we can pull it off. I think it should be ok, but at the same time I dunno how we are going to make it happen, you know? I'm probably just getting nervous, but when I think about the whole thing I start to get a little sicky in my belly. Le sigh.

awesome

I'm sure that everyone has seen this by now, but in case you haven't - here's a fabulous report from the LA Times music blog featuring an A Capella performance by RATM steps away from the RNC.

my cat

Yeah so I was reading on Sabrina, See yesterday how one of her friends threatened to dismember her or anally penetrate her with a hot curling iron or something if her blog degenerated into love and cooking and puppies and crap. Since I'm fairly sure I've already jumped that shark here, I'm going to continue along my merry way.

My cat has pretty much decided in his mind he's a pinup girl or a porn star all of a sudden. I swear you can't turn a corner without being confronted by the no-nutted wonder, spread eagled and airing out his junk. I mean, I can't say for sure that's what he's thinking, but the photographic evidence as illustrated above would certainly go towards supporting that thesis, no?

They've been ripping up the street out front for approximately a billion years and right now it sounds like they are using a dental drill on chalkboard teeth. If I'm not here tomorrow it'll be because I took a kitchen knife outside and murdered the entire work crew. Wish me luck.

I got something to say

So I've been participating in this online talkboard social networking site thingy since we moved down here. I mean, it's pretty fun and it's how we've met pretty much everyone we know in SD, so that's cool, but it also serves to remind me how stupid people can be when you allow them the thin veil of anonymity that the innerweb provides.

For example - in one of the threads the other day, one (married) member of the group was indulging in a bit of online flirting. Someone took it upon themselves to send his wife (another member of the group) a message ratting him out. Now this couple has been together a LONG time. They clearly have boundaries within the relationship for harmless flirting and whatnot, and who knows whether he crossed that line with what he said. However, once a third party becomes involved (i.e. the rat) the wife is almost honour-bound to take action, don't you think? If she lets it slide, she kind of looks like a cuckold, a chump, or something along those lines.

I mean, why do people regress to junior high school the minute they get behind the keyboard? It's like getting to school on Monday and having that girl who pretends to be your friend (even though deep down inside you kinda know she's spreading rumours about you all over the school) come up to you and say she saw your boyfriend kissing someone else. Even if it's not true you a) feel like an asshole and b) kinda have to take action. Gawd I've never been very good at that game.

Dude I'm a flirt - always have been, always will be. It's harmless, though, and the architect knows it. I encourage it in him, he is amused by it in me. However, if someone came up to him at a party and made comments, of course he'd feel like he had to say something to me about it - even if he knows I'm loyal, faithful, and would never betray him. All of a sudden we are in conflict for something that has been, to this point, not a problem. Ridiculous. People should mind their own business.

By the way

Maktaaq has written a fabulous post about the point of blogging. Check it out.

Scrabbling

While some folks (i.e. the sister) have adopted the new EA facebook scrabble as their own, I'm still holding out. The jingly jangly animations etc are too distracting for me. I mean, I'll play it b/c I don't seem to have another option with her, but I'd rather stick to emailing the old school scrabulous back and forth.

I've been reading like a madwoman, lately, and, to my credit, I've been mixing up my brainless mysteries and/or fantasy novels with a nice smattering of non fiction and biographies. I just received my first $5 Borders Bucks coupon (for every $100 spent) and promptly spent it. Also, I've been walking down to the library at least once a week, and perusing our two local used bookstores easily that often. AND the architect's aunt is clearing out her library and is letting me go through them before she donates. Yay!!!

In other boring housewifely type news, I baked bread for the first time in forever yesterday. The brother gave me an artisan bread cookbook for my bday last month and so I gave it a shot (as pictured). I think it's too salty, but the architect says it's still tasty. I'm going to buy more flour and yeast, though, and play around with it. Mmmmmdeliciouscarbsmmmmmmmmmmm

Hockey fans and Whatnot

So the other night when we were on our way into the amphitheater to see that band, what, the radioheads or something, my ticket was checked by a guy in a Maple Leafs tshirt. I made fanboy flappy gestures about the obviously well worn specimen and the guy asked if I happened to be Canadian. I said yes, and I was disregarding the fact that he was wearing a LEAFS shirt because of the overall coolness of seeing a Canadian hockey tshirt in pretty much the southernmost part of California. Really, seriously, I should be mocking him because, well, it's the Leafs, let's not kid.

He said actually I'm a Canucks fan I'm from Vancouver. I was being pushed along by the crowd so couldn't smack him for wearing that trash as a Vancouerite. If I'd known I would have taken him out.

The funny part though was the look on my friends' faces at the chances of running into another Canadian hockey fan while going to see a British Band in the US of A.

We're everywhere.....

Snatch my body any day, mr Yorke.

So yeah, I went to see Radiohead at Cricket Amphitheater last night. Wow is really the only possible response. I mean, besides contemplating the fact that my irritation with all of the drunken assholes perhaps shows a bit of my age, but we won't talk about that in this forum. We here at the Sundae Sanatorium are content to wallow in our own disillusions, thank you very much.

Anyhoo, yeah, so Radiohead is f'ing incredible. The amphitheater has a pit area, seated balconies, and then the top lawn, and we were in the second row of balconies, but more or less directly behind the sound booth at DEAD centre; basically, the sound and lightshow was all set up exactly for us. Can't really go wrong with that, huh? The only thing that could have made it better would have been if the architect had been able to go with me. Unfortunately he had a bit of a snafu with a project and wasn't able to get away in time. Fortunately, though, a friend was only to happy to warm his seat for him.

$12 beers are less than exciting, but what are you going to do? At least it was good beer, not piss-poor molson in a plastic cup.

setlist (for those who care):
15 Step
Airbag
There There
All I Need
Nude
Talk Show Host
Where I End and You Begin
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
The Gloaming
Faust Arp
How to Disappear Completely
Reckoner
Optimistic
Jigsaw
Pyramid Song
Climbing Up The Walls
Bodysnatchers

FIRST ENCORES
House of Cards
You and Whose Army?
Just
Paranoid Android
Street Spirit (Fade Out)

SECOND ENCORES
Videotape
Lucky
Everything In Its Right Place

A simultaneously awesome and terrible personal sidenote:

The kiddo turns 9teen today. Those of you who've been around for a while may recall some of the crappy stuff he's gone through, so I just thought I'd fill you in =)

It's interesting

...how reading stuff I love doesn't always inspire me to blog, but being irritated usually does. I'm sure that's extremely healthy. Heh.

I won't get into what it was that irritated me specifically (I don't want to open a big ol' can of shitstorm here) but suffice it to say that I read some blogger's posting, disagreed with it and with most of the comments, replied along that vein with backup facts and links, and, after moderation, the blog-owner failed to post it. While I agree that everyone has the right to control the comments on their space, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me to refuse to encourage respectful dialogue within an internet forum. Well, unless you are afraid of being proven wrong, of course.

Whatever, though, I happened upon this blog quite randomly and cannot fathom going back, as there are so many good blogs out there.
----------------

Anyhoo...
Now that I'm down in Amurrika, I get to listen to Pandora again, which rules. It's such a cool way to discover new music, and there's even an application for my iPhone*. Last night while I was cooking dinner I felt like listening to some groovy cocktail type chill music, so created a station based on Thievery Corporation. It occurred to me at the time that this station would be equally fantastic for both dinner parties and sexytimes. Now these two activities don't appear to be that similar (orgiastic Romans aside), but when you think about it, they aren't that far apart, either. Both involve two (or more) (perverts) people coming together for sensual exploration. Both have begin with an appetizer, a main course, dessert, and cleanup. (I'm purposely leaving out the salad and cheese courses, because, well, ew.) For both events, you want a soundtrack which enhance the experience but doesn't distract from it - preferably something that has a bit of a groove and will fill in any quiet spaces. Something sexy - the musical equivalent of a seduction; a sultry look or an oyster** or strawberry dipped in champagne.

Or at least that is what I generally prefer when in le boudoir - nowadays, anyway. Back when I was younger my stereo was usually playing ministry or something equally aggressive. But then my definition of a really fancy dinner was fettuccine alfredo and a glass of chilean cabernet, so there's no accounting for the tastes and predilections of a 19 year old, I suppose.



* Yes I said iPhone! I am now the proud owner of a new 8gig 3G iPhone, thanks to the always handsome and charming Architect. Yay for husbands!
** I actually don't like oysters, and have recently discovered a bit of a nasty allergy to shellfish. However, I hear that they work well as an aphrodisiac, so there it is.

read this

I missed it a couple - 3 weeks ago but you should read it now.

r/r

I recall having a conversation, one day, fueled by wine and probably a little weed, a conversation between a first nations girl, a girl who's parents escaped from Czechoslovakia in the early 70s and me, a girl who's dad grew up Catholic in Belfast. The F/N girl was getting passionate about cultural genocide and racism and I couldn't knock her for it - she was making some valid points and speaking some very powerful truths. I did get a little upset, though, when she told me that I couldn't know what she'd been through; what her grandmothers had been through.

I tried to talk to her about the fact that my dad was always very quiet about the kind of crap he suffered as a boy, but I knew that my grandpa had a hard time getting a job because he married a catholic, and he had to work for less money and walk to work barefoot so he could save his shoes for on the job. And I knew that when I was visiting my cousin we came really close to getting shot because he said "H" the wrong way. And I know poor lucky the leprechaun is still chasing after his lucky charms and that every fat frat boy and his douchebag cousin wear 'blow me I'm irish' tshirts and puke green beer every March 17. I know about cultural appropriation and having your myths and stories turned into a pot full of jokes at the end of the rainbow, and about having your language banned and almost lost. I know I'm a generation removed from it but I didn't get to learn gaelic at home because the english said my dad wasn't allowed to learn it when he was a boy.

Maybe it's different. I don't know. But I think that maybe there are a lot of people out there who know what it feels like to be told they aren't good enough. I think that maybe it's not about the colour of your skin it's about being a good person and loving the people around you and remembering that we are all part of the same family, really.

But anyway, yeah, listen to Ryan 'cause he's smarter than I am and says it way better.

ug

Man, so I've been trying to get into psychiatric intake stuff down here b/c I don't have any insurance so need the free crap. Of course, it's fucking impossible. There's one at UCSD that I've been calling and calling and calling. Finally someone called me back and told me I have to call in on Monday mornings only, and just let it ring until someone answers. Ok so I did that and no one answered till almost 8.30, at which point they told me that all the spaces for this week were filled and that I would have to call back next Monday morning and just let it ring until someone answered. I said 'Well that's what I did today" and they replied "Yes, but it's 8.30 now, and all of the spaces have been filled".

GOD.

scra(m)bbling

Fucking hell my sweet sweet facebook scrabble has been shut down! The powers that be at facebook have caved to Hasbro and taken the scrabulous app offline. I may cry. In fact, I died a little inside when I logged on and tried to play my turns.

I'm not sure what I'll do all day. The new EA/Hasbro app blows chunks. They've over engineered it to be a wanna be GTA6 or something and it isn't working at all.

I dunno what this world is coming to. The Sasquatch has left Kokanee country in search of Montreal, hoping for an indie music deal or at least a fashion shoot; scrabulous is dead; and an earthquake shook LA without delaying the release of the new Lost Boys movie. I can't see the forest for the trees, kids, and even Corey Haim can't help us now.

it's my party and

I will talk about my impending wedding reception if I want to.

Yes we are still having one (for those of you who've been privy to some of the scuttlebutt leading up to it) it's just taking us a while to get off the ground with the planning and the invitations. Part of it is because we've been broke as fuck, and part of it is because... well that's the whole reason, actually. Everything costs money, you see, and food / wine are just more important than spending money on an event that is months away.

Oh except that it's now only 2 months away, now, and all of a sudden everything urgently needs to be done - especially the invitations. Getting the architect to understand this, of course, is not the easiest thing on the planet to do. He's a last minute, arrive 15 minutes late kind of guy. HOWEVER that sort of lackadaisical attitude will simply not do, in this situation.

Le sigh.

I've been vaguely tracking the progress of the smelly-ciavarro nuptuals and am amazed at the stuff that they are doing that we didn't do. Engagement photos? What? Showers? Nope, none of those... Hmph. I can't decide if I'm relieved that I escaped the stress involved, or disappointed that we didn't go all out. Whatevs, I guess. I'm leaving my sister in charge of planning the 'deck the hall' girls only party for the night before the reception. I figure as my pseudo maid of honour it can be her job. If anyone out there, though, wants to help her out (you know who I'm talking to, Filthy, Van-nasty) I'm sure she'd love the assistance.

Oh and a big HOLLA and a cyber-shot of fireball to van-nasty, the nasty one herself. It's her birthday, after all.

all of them are talking, and they're comedians

So I'm lounging poolside yesterday (it's my Tuesday thing) (also usually my Thursday) (and sometimes my Friday, as well) and I hear this kind of buffoon loud mouth guy spouting off at the shallow end. Those of in the know hang out mid-pool, you see, because this pool is old school and the deep end is actually in the middle. Anyhoo.

This guy is spouting off at the shallow end of the pool. From what I can gather, he's there with some friends and his friends' kids. He seems to be the "Uncle Rick" kinda guy who all the wives hate and all the husbands keep around for drunken reminiscing about football and fishing and that time they lost their pants out in Surrey or what have you, until that one time where he pukes on the good carpet and the wives finally have had enough and say ENOUGH!

So this guy is in the shallow end of the pool telling his buddy's kids about how they'll have to get their mom to let them come out to his place to ride the dirt bikes the jet ski the atv whathaveyou clad in, of course, all the appropriate safety gear. His rational for this rationality is that he has a friend who has a glass eye. And why is he eye-less, you ask? Well because apparently he SHOT IT OUT WITH A BB GUN.

I don't know bout you, but the moment I heard that I went into spasms of laughter - a near apoplexy, it's true, because all I could think of was Ralphie from A Christmas Story and how he really wanted the BB Gun but his mom n teacher told him NO! for exactly that reason. And, sure enough, he nearly did but whatever.

I guess this kid's mom didn't love him enough, or maybe she'd never seen A Christmas Story.

beer pong for the ages

So I'm sitting here wondering, yet again, whatever makes me do things. You know - like mixing beer and tequila and wine. Not in one glass, of course, but in one belly. One mostly empty belly.

Le sigh. You'd think that by now I'd have this sheet figured out. Instead I'm sitting here nursing a stiff neck and a mild hangover with a bowl full of strawberries, a bag of pita chips and a glass of watery juice, wishing the g-darned cable people would show up so I could go get some gingerale.

Hmmm maybe if I finish off the ice cream I'll feel better about the world.

In other news... that story I put up on here a billion years ago - the one about the skateboard - was published in an online journal. That's kinda cool... In the spirit of complete disclosure, it's a journal that I did the initial design for, but it's still kinda cool, I think. I'm sure no favoritism was in play here. *ahem*.

at the 100th meridian

This is a beautifully told story of the part of Canada from which I originate. It is long, but it is worth it. Trust me. I've never led you astray before, have I? Well, unless you took my hand, of course....

Hit the road, jack

So we're moving tomorrow. Yes again. I think that it has to do with my recent brain spaz issues - the non-stability of my everyday life. It's funny b/c although I can be totally spontaneous and rather unpredictable, I do love to have a certain amount of routine in my day-to-day life. I mean, to follow me around as I get ready for work in the morning (or, when I *did* get up for work in the morning) would have pretty much been the same thing day in and day out. Woe to the person who interrupted me for any reason (i.e. the architect). I lived alone for a long time - having someone feck with my rhythm took some getting used to.

Anyhoo, we're moving again. The new place is bigger and has more windows, and has crazy 11' high ceilings. We don't have a balcony for le chat, but there is a bit of a patio for the BBQ and for sitting in the evening having a glass of wine, so I'm pretty happy about that.

Plus I will get some lanterns and stuff and do some decorating, and have an herb garden again so that rules.

Mostly I'm pretty excited about having more space so a) I don't have to share my bedroom with 3 bicycles anymore and b) we can maybe do some more entertaining. This place is a bit too small for any more than a couple of people to come by.

I'm also kind of digging this working from home thing. I hang out in my jammies, listen to classical music, and tippitytap away. It's not doing a thing for my tan, but whatevs. Mama needs some new shoes. Oh and a new couch, but that's neither here nor there.

sixteen men on a dead man's tah-tahs

So I'm doing some contracty stuff this morning and am then off to the pool for the afternoon. I wish I could say I was the hottest chick on the deck but let's not kid - it's been a while since I was skinny. Like at least 1.5 years. I could blame the architect and say he's making me settle down. Well I guess that's part of the problem, but the other side is that I'm not working out and I'm drinking way too much. It's ok though, I guess - I mean I can still get into my jeans n crap it's just that I've got a soft belly and my boobs are fricking huge. While some of you out there may not think that's an issue I gotta tell you it's a pain in the arse when you are tshirt shopping.

Plus they have this irritating tendency to try and bust out when I dive into the pool. Our code word for this phenomenon is 'Janet' for obvious reasons, but at least it's a bit more subtle than screaming "dude your floaters are out again!".

I think, anyway.

performance enhancing..

Oh I'm onto you, Team Garmin-Chipotle. You think you can fool me? Nuh-uh. Chipotle sponsorship means free bean burritos means spectacular gas taking out the competition behind your cyclists. And you thought we weren't paying attention...

I wonder

who's still out there?

I'm having some trouble with the depression these past few days - yesterday especially. It's crazy sometimes how it's triggered by nothing or everything and I can feel the crash coming down. Cliched yes but it really is like a storm - clouds boiling black in the distance ozone heavy in the air. I'm not sure how today is going to go, yet - I've been awake for over an hour and am wavering between ok and pulling the blankets up over my head and wishing for it all to end. The architect is still here, you see, and I worry about when he goes and I'm left here with my thoughts.

I can't disconnect from my past, lately. Ever. It's in my dreams and in my waking thoughts. Is everyone tied to their history the way that I am? Is everyone caught up in the mistakes of the past so intensely that they come up upon you like a visceral slap to the consciousness? I swear I can still feel things as though they are happening right now - memories five years old or fifteen my brain sees no difference. How can I let these things go? Tell me how to be free from sins I've repented, from injuries I've healed, from anger I've ....

I don't know. Maybe I *am* crazy. Yesterday in the store in the middle of a panic attack trying to get on an escalator it occurred to me that this doesn't happen to other people. Other people go on about their lives putting their pasts behind them; refusing to be haunted by spectres of memory. How do they do that? How do they let it go let it slip through their fingers cut the ties?

i like rabbits

Dude if you haven't seen the Kelly videos from The Liam Show you need to go youtube that shit NOW. I've been giggling to myself all morning - seriously.

Text Message Breakup is gloriously funny. I heart it. Oh heck I'll post it for you:

i said i think i'm losing my mind this time

No I really might be. Last Friday I was getting out of the shower and was drying my hair and I pulled my earring out. No biggy - minor inconvenience - however the backing disappeared. Like, I heard it hit the floor but could not find it to save my life. I was on my hands and knees searching, yet nothing.


On Saturday morning, I woke up missing my nose ring. Like it was just GONE. Nowhere in the bed; nowhere on the floor; basically nowhere. I was reasonably convinced I'd had it all day the day before, and that I hadn't lost it at the pool, but seriously - nowhere to be found.

So I made due with the earrings by just grabbing backings from a pair I never wear, and yesterday I picked up a new nose screw. Whatever, just weird random things happening. Last night, though, as I was sitting on the pot, I glanced over at the tub mat. Sure enough, bold as day, there was my nose ring. I mean, the architect and I *both* looked for that thing on Saturday but nothing. And it's not like we hadn't used the bathroom at all - you'd think we would have noticed the damn thing sitting there, but no. This made me very happy because I'm not that fond of the new one - the inside the nose part is really long and it makes me feel like I've got boogers, but at least now I have a backup.

Anyhoo, this brings us to five minutes ago, when I was once again on the pot (hey, it's hot! I've been consuming a lot of fluids!) and happened to glance over at the tub mat. What to my wondering eyes should appear, in pretty much the EXACT same place as the nosering had been, but the back for my earring.

Either someone is fucking with me, or our house is haunted by tiny little poltergeists.

le sigh

So in a classic Van-Nasty moment (you know it is so don't try and tell me any different you bonaroo huffing such and such) I searched my apartment high and low for my styley d&g knock off sunglasses (not the ones pictured below).

I was forcing myself outside, you see, since I'm pretty sure I didn't leave the house last week except to go to the pool, and I'm trying to get back into shape. Walking will help this oh yes it will.

Anyhoo, no love on the sunglasses, so I put on my big jackie-oh wannabe shades (are pictured below). I headed out the door and set off down the street and thought that perhaps people were looking at me a bit more than normal. The phone rang. I paused on the sidewalk to answer it and made eyecontact with a passerbye. I ended my call and grabbed a notepad to scribble down an appointment for apartment viewing. I attempted to push my largish shades up on my head so that I could see better. Of course I could not complete this action because my smaller (though not *small* per se) sunglasses were already perched on top of my head.

Le sigh.

disco disco! bueno bueno!

So last night the architect and I watched a bootlegged copy of The Zohan on the innerwebs. The quality was average-ish (both content and form), but there were Spanish subtitles.

It's kind of a surreal experience to watch a movie in which the dialogue is almost entirely spoken with very thick Israeli accents and is translated into Spanish.

Keep in mind that I don't actually *speak* Spanish. I am pretty sure that 90% of the time (especially in the first 5 minutes while my poor brain tried to wrap itself around the language barriers) I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Fortunately, it's not a hard movie to follow.

In other news, I'm once again apartment hunting. We've really come to realize that we need more space and so have managed to get out of our lease. Now, of course, we have to find something as nice and as cool, in a similarly great area. But bigger. Heh. Good luck.

scrabble eyes my sweet patootie

See those sassy shades? Once I removed them I noticed a sassy set of raccoon eyes to match.

I'm so hot.

Today the company was a little sparse around the pool. My usual compatriots were either off watching the US Open (yawn), at job interviews (shock and dismay) or actually working (the horror!). I'm hoping tomorrow will fare better, but I've managed (yet again) to sunburn my belly. I'd speculate that the sunburn works kind of like lightning, in that it hits the highest point, but my belly has yet to surpass my tah-tahs in altitude.

If I keep pouring the summery cocktails down my yap, however, that may not be the case for long.

boy in the box the fever is all day

So last night we went out with the architect's aunt & uncle to have some dinner. The conversation is always interesting - his uncle is seriously educated in my long-lost academic field, and his aunt is no slouch in that sense either.

After the restaurant we head back to their place for dessert and coffee and end up talking about poetry and a class I once took etc etc. I head off to use the ladies' and when I come back there is a book of women's erotica on the table. Somehow his aunt has decided to loan it to me and that it would be good readng for me.

I may have temporarily solved San Diego's energy issues - the colour of my face lit up the city for at least 5 minutes.

all my heroes are weirdos

OK so I'm back home in SD after spending two rain soaked weeks on the left coast of British Columbia. I swear to god I can't fathom choosing to go back to June-uary. I know Vancity is amazing and all my friends and family there are incredible and I miss them terribly but man o man I cannot deal with the rain any longer.

It's funny but I didn't really feel at home there anymore. I felt sort of disconnected and lost. It's true that I don't actually *have* a home there anymore (as welcome as the kiddo and the sister made me in theirs) but still. I dunno if it's just that I've come to terms with SD as my place (which would make sense considering how *at* home I felt here from my very first visit) or it's just that (to quote a cliche) home is where the heart is, which means wherever the architect is.

I do, though, miss our house out in L-Town. I miss the big kitchen and the huge dining table that we used to crowd around to play games and have drinks, and I miss the balconies and hanging out on them, but mostly I miss the bustle of friends and family coming and going all the time. I guess that will come with time, here, but I really love the idea of a home that is open and welcome to all my friends, and one that my friends all feel comfortable and at home in, you know?

original prankster

OK so I'm in Vancouver. I flew in last night and have managed to keep it a total secret from my family. My friend picked me up and made arrangements for the sister and the kiddo to come to her house at 10am this morning. Heh. The look on the sister's face has been recorded on video and should soon be posted on the innerweb.

I love that shit.

rrrrrRRRRAWWWWRRrrrr

I would like to do completely obscene things with Anthony Bourdain.

ug

Man I dunno. I just can't get super excited about writing anymore. Like I went out and bought myself a writing prompt book, I've been reading way more, and yet every day I sit down and firefix opens this bloggity up as one of my tabs and... nothing.

It's as though I started something here and I'm caught up in what it used to be, you know? Like I have trouble envisioning it as something more. I need your help (if there are any of you left).

There are people who have been here more or less since the beginning - who've watched me go through the crazy shit with the kiddo, have watched me kind of grow up and learn shit and learn who I am and what I want to be in the world. And then there are people who caught up with me along the way and have liked where I am since then. I know a lot of people got bored when I stopped posting all the sex and when I stopped partying all the time and I think that maybe part of me got bored too.

So where do I go from here? Do I archive this and start something else? Do I give it up altogether? Or do I just grab a slice of discipline and make myself write for ten minutes a day and see where it goes?

I need your help. What do you think?

venice is sinking

so we were oot and aboot last night happy houring it up and i managed to fall on my bottom not once but twice and now my foot hurts and i'm hobbling around like a gimp.

so very hot.

so very graceful.

technically though it wasn't my fault - i was wearing new shoes, so that was definitely to blame for the first tumble and the architect shoved me into traffic the second time he must have taken out an impressive insurance policy on me or something yesterday.

hmph.

anyhoo, i currently have a red wine headache and am STARVING. I'm totally craving fried potato products but there's no way i could make it to the nearest fast food outlet hobbling like i am. someone bring me mcdonalds hash browns STAT! i may die if i don't get them! seriously!

that disease comes with a hot chick and a puppy

ok if you are canadien-eh and haven't seen this week's how i met your mother, run don't walk to the nearest cbs website and watch that shizz.

brilliant, i swear. almost as good as robyn's quote in a previous episode about her coworker being a hockey player: "i'm canadian! he's a hockey player! if he was missing a tooth i'd have hit that already!"

on a discussion board i frequent, there's been some discussion about food shortages hitting the us. People are starting to hoard staples like rice n flour as the prices rise. it's interesting how food riots in africa, haiti and some asian countries barely cause a blip on the western radar (unless you are one of those crazy do-gooder radical liberals*) until costco slaps your hand for overdoing it on the starches.

while i could say amen to a fiscal impetus to cut carbs, at the same time i worry that such things will only encourage short-sighted government administrations to reward the big industrialized agriculture machines to rip out whatever crops they are currently cultivating and plant grains to the exclusion of all else, when in reality we should be looking at encouraging crop diversity and region-appropriate plantings.

le sigh.

maybe i should use some of my free time to look into starting or volunteering with organizations that plant community gardens. not that i know anything about this, and my thumb is so black i worry that it is going to fall off, but i could probably do something. it's either that or go to work for peta lobbying for soylent green.


* i'm clearly saying this tongue in cheek.

dang

man i'm sorry. this working thing where i have no access to a computer really sucks. it's seriously interrupting my casual computering time and i resent it thoroughly.

not completely, though, 'cause i am anticipating my paycheque come friday afternoon. the sister will be in town this weekend and mama needs some new spring clothes.

the architect had to finish his taxes when he first arrived home last night and i wanted burgers so by the time we finished eating it was 9pm. this (combined with the lack of alky-ma-hol i drank) led to some pretty serious insomnia - like i was up till almost one and awake before 5, fell back to sleep around 6 just in time for the alarm to go off at 6.45. now i'm waiting to get into the shower but he's been lollygagging so he's cutting into my quality scrubbing time.

le sigh.

sorry for the uninspired post... bear with me for a few more days and i will be back to your regularly scheduled randomness i swear.

yeah so?

maybe i am getting old.
wtf i don't care.

the thought of going to farina tonight and morcheeba and then bt tomorrow night just sounded... meh.

it's not like i don't love farina and don't always have a great time when i go, it's just that essjay isn't here and i am not sure how it would go without her. even last week at sharam all i kept thinking was how weird it is without the vancity crew. i know i have to get over it it's just.

just.

tonight the architect is snoring on the couch at 9.30pm. he works really hard and i fed him a whole bunch of wine when he got home. then we went down the road for dinner with tony dancer and drank some more. i came home and yakked it all up ('cause what would dinner be without a yak or two by me) (seriously - i think i should get a refund for every restaurant meal i puke) so i'm dead sober.

yeah i'm a bad blogger but i've worked all week with little/no innerweb access till i get home and when i do get home i gots da other craps to do. sue me.

no don't.

xo

stairs

i have these recurring facets of my dreams where i'm climbing something - stairs, a hill, what have you - and just as i'm about to reach the top my legs stop working and i can't climb anymore. it's like they just collapse underneath me and am pulling myself up with my arms. it's not a pleasant feeling, and it tends to carry itself into my waking life.

anyway.... so some of you may recall that my crazyexboyfriend was a hairdresser and i spent a couple years of my life as his unpaid servant (ran the kitchen in his cafe; was his salon assistant). anyhoo... for the next two weeks i'm working as a salon assistant up the road. when i went to meet'n'greet a manicurist for a wedding day treat for the sister, my mama and i, we got to chatting and it turned out the salon she works in needed a temporary underthetable type person to do some vacation coverage. it pays ten bux an hour and cash so i said heck yeah. at the end of yesterday they paid me for the few hours i've been filling in (like 5 or something). it was a really awesome feeling - walking home from a day of work with cash in hand. we went and bought wine and groceries with money i'd earned and i felt super happy and awesome. yeah i've done a couple of the cruiseship things but for some reason this felt like real work. just different. i guess i'm really not cut out to have a sugar daddy. i like paying my own way.

young dumb don't see a problem

one of the classic stories of my childhood is the time that my parents took us over to a house party. i, a wannabe foodie even at the tender age of 4, helped myself to several shrimp from a platter and promptly vomited all over the place.

i'm such a joy to bring to parties.

anyhoo, fastforward to wednesday night. a new friend is a former sushi chef and wanted to come over and cook a salmon tasting menu for the architect and i. one of the appetizers was chopped salmon tartare stuffed in a mushroom and topped with a jumbo shrimp. i ate one because i was trying to be polite - if you have gone out with me or cooked for me, you know that i rarely eat seafood or shellfish or anything (firm believer in the fact that just because it lives underwater doesn't mean it's not a bug). hop skip and jump again to 4am at which time i awoke, with a burning pain in my belly. i promptly started to yak and continued to do so until 8am, at which point the architect took me to the hospital (the er at scripps-mercy has a lovely clean ladies room, by the way, but those in the bowl air fresheners are murder on the lungs when you have your head stuck in there. i can *still* smell fake flower grandma perfume, i swear.)

a bunch of tests later, they put me on an IV of saline, supplemented with a shot of anti-nauseant and dilaudid and sent me on my way. yay narcotics!

i've been drunk since i left

so one of the folks i've met down here is this super cool vietnamese fellow who sings like dean martin. i know this is improbably and/or incongruous, but there it is. i've tried, on more than one occasion, to teach him home for a rest which is possibly the ultimate canadian drinking song. he's doing pretty well - got the tune and now just needs the lyrics down.

strangely this is the one song that i can sing without sounding like a cat that someone is using as bagpipes.

anyhoo - the architect, pho and i ended up at an irish pub last night discussing the probability of intent in the naming of various asian-type restaurants. anyone who's lived in or visited vancouver in the past ten years has probably seen pho bch nga which used to be at the corner of kingsway & victoria. pronounced phonetically, it's always worth a giggle in mixed company. ditto fuku roku. i figure that it's probably a decent sense of humour at play - why not fuck with the white folk? he figures it's not like that though... and apparently bch nga means something to do with being russian. who knew?

the episode in which raspberry tries to get back to regular blogging, and learns a valuable lesson

ok maybe no lessons. i'm too old for that sheet. i'm also too old for douchebags. heh. last night we were out watching some new friend-type folk dj at a lounge nearby and someone said something about san diego being very conservative. i haven't noticed that, since when we first moved here we lived near and spent all our time in the primary gay neighbourhood, and then promptly rented an apartment in the heart of the secondary gay community of san-dee. not so much conservativism round these parts. our companions said something about not spending any time in pb or the gaslamp, to which i replied that i'm too old to be bothered wasting my time on people who are more interested in fashion than being good to their fellow human beings.

not that there is anything wrong with fashion - i enjoy it myself rather immensely - it's just not a huge priority for me anymore, you know? maybe it never was. i've always had my own version of style.


speaking of sheets - how awesome are wedding present giftcards? currently i'm lounging between 500 thread count wonders paid for by some of the architect's extended family. i heart that.

(heh - i can see my male readers rolling their eyes and yawning at this post, by the way - sorry guys...)

been drinking since half past noon

so i'm married. who'da thunk it? not i said the fly.

i did, however, get *loaded* on my wedding night. like drunk as i haven't been drunk in a long time. the kiddo was joking how he's never seen anyone need to hold on to *everything* on their way out of the lounge. i countered with the fact that i was wearing 3.5" stilettos and dared him to give walking a shot after god knows how much wine and champagne. i did manage to avoid passing out long enough to consummate the marriage once we got back to the hotel room. i was shocked and dismayed to see that there was no evidence of it on the sheet though - someone out there may have doubted my purity. fortunately the hotel staff had sprinkled rose petals around on the bed so i could fake it.

heh.

today is the greatest

dude i'm getting married today...

workin on a mystery

so yesterday i had to sit down and create an excel spreadsheet that basically tracked my movements from this morning onwards - straight through to sunday morning. i included meal plans and shopping lists, and sent it to the architect for printing.

he was bemused - he assumed that (other than our three pm date with destiny) we were going to wing the whole weekend.

heh.

i was telling this little story to my mama and she apologized - i apparently get this obsessive need to organize and schedule from her. i mean, it's not like i'm planning on rigidly following it - in fact i haven't even looked at it since he brought it home - it's just that i find it extremely soothing to have it all written down. it sorts things out in my head to put them down on paper.

hence the bloggity, i suppose.

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

yesterday, on one of the talk threads i participate in, someone posted the topic - what's your dream job (money skills talent no object). it was interesting to me to see how many people aren't doing what they really want to be doing. and it's not like i am - here i am with days upon days of free time. i could be writing. i *should* be writing. in reality i hang out and surf the internet, read trashy novels, and clean the house. this time is kind of a gift that i'm wasting. i had all these goals for when i moved here and not really any of them has been fulfilled. i wonder if i just need some kind of structure - like is there a book or something that acts as a tool to help discipline you to write every day? like a writing class between the covers kind of thing?

i wonder.

i'm going where-ever it leads (warning - the post ahead will involve discussion of impending nuptuals)

so the wedding dress has landed and fits like the proverbial glove. not oj's glove, it's true, but a much nicer, ivory 100% silk glove. and that's all i'll say about that.

oh and i might be listening to the new constantines album. i had to acquire it through not-quite-kosher means 'cause it's not out in the us of a until the end of april. who can wait that long?

man so far (and I'm knocking on wood so repeatedly over here that the cat is all puffed up, legs akimbo, standing in the middle of the room staring at me) things are going pretty smoothly (last minute cold feet and jitters aside). the architect's tux is rented. my dress is altered and in house. restaurant reservations are made (with concessions made for yours truly the chef's nightmare) and the menu has been prepared. after party space is set up. hotel reservations are made. manicure appointments - check. saucy shoes - check. crazy sd folks invited to the afterparty - check.

we had originally planned on making cds for favours, but i think we are going to hold off on doing that until the reception. there are places where you can get the blank discs screened but it's way cheaper if you do it in lots of like 100. so for this event, i think i'm going to make cookies and put our little logo on it.

mind you, i'm seriously running out of time at this point so who really knows?

running down a dream

the architect and i had a huge fight last night and now i just want to die. it's been mostly resolved but i just feel like he completely resents me and having to support me and all this shit and i want to crawl under a rock right now, or more appropriately go running away home.

i was hanging out with a couple of people yesterday afternoon and we'd been joking about getting loaded on the stoop like white trash warriors (though we ended up just having a few beer and bs-ing for a couple of hours) and, as the day wore on, the architect got more and more pissed off about that. all this time he's been encouraging me to go out with friends and not stay home by myself during the day, and i've felt super guilty about doing that. so yesterday i did and sure enough he freaked out and now i feel so fucking awful.

i can't help but think he'd be happier and better off without me. he wouldn't have to work so much and he could do his own thing and go back to motorcycle racing and having tonnes of money and and and.

gonna wash that man

(please allow raspberry a moment as she shudders with pleasure)

dude, i forgot.

since my crazyexboyfriend and i parted ways, i've had a female hairdresser. and you know, she was pretty good: she kept up with her education and was always willing to experiment on my hair, but she was still pretty conservative and that was reflected in her style.

plus, she was a girl.

yesterday, i checked out a salon down the street. i had my hair cut by a guy for the first time in 5 years. sure he was a gay guy but it's *different* i swear. and he's got skills - you can tell the way he holds his scissors, the way he turns the hair not the hand to change the angle of the cut and therefore the way the hair will fall. it's awesome to sit there, tell him that i need a bit of length so i can updo next weekend and that's it. he takes over and even though he's running behind, gives a great cut.

this is going to be the longest 8 weeks of my life...

politics of dancing

not that this furthers my 'lose weight' cause in any way, shape or form, but i went out drinking (again) last night.

well specifically, we went out and had a burger for dinner, and then went to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall. oh my god how i laughed. i mean i *heart* marshall in himym - to see him starring in something that he's written, something that is so infused with his character (wipes single tear)... just great.

warning - there is a lot of male full frontal nudity. marshall's no slouch in this area, so the ladies in the room were happy with this situation. there was, however, a lot of uncomfortable shifting from the hetero men in the group.

after the movie we went to the bar around the corner from the theatre for drinks and late night snacks (also not good for the waist). man i just need to stop drinking for the next week - if i can stop drinking i'll stop late night snacking and it will be all good. plus, no booze baby.

ok like that's going to happen.

i seriously do need to cut back on the drinking, though. i need to make a conscious effort to say 'no' to opening the second bottle of wine every evening, unless it's a special occasion. that's right - we've been downing 2 bottles every night, pretty much since we moved down here. i said it before and i imagine i'll say it again: i have no idea how californians aren't all raging alcoholics. we simply couldn't afford it in canada.

something else besides a silvery part

dude i feel like i'm getting fat. like when i went to try on dresses (non-specific dresses! really! i promise! no occasion impending (like doom) at all!) this week i was all bloaty from booze and monthly and mexican food so i was gi*NOR*mous. that's kind of all fading and i've actually *lost* weight since moving but i feel as though it's all going pear shaped.

so i've been making a concerted effort to get out walking - on friday we were out for 3.5 hours down at torrey pines climbing the bluffs and walking on the beach. yesterday (in the midst of errands) i walked 4.5miles. and today, i walked up and down a hill.

but not just *any* hill - it's the hill on texas street. the hill that's well known as an angry bitch among sd cyclists and runners. i made myself a fun little mix, put on my shortyshorts and set out to conquer that bitch.

oh and i did it, my friends, i did it and got back to the house just in time to yak up my breakfast.

tomorrow, if i can walk, i will be sure to eat *after* i get home.

heh.

grease is the word

just as long as the word is not wedding (or so I've been told)...... welll heck it's not my fault - i'm deeply obsessed, at the moment, and can't see much beyond the flowers and dress alterations.

so saturday night my long lost sister and went down to the aero bar on india street - that's the spot that i discovered the joys of sunday night drinking. they were throwing some kind of party for people who use yelp. yelp's nothing in canada (though it should be) but it's huge down here - kind of like myspace but with a function. check it out yourselfs.

i was drunk when i got there - like we'd (and let's not kid it was mostly me) drank two bottles of wine before leaving the house - so when we arrived and they started handing out whiskey shots who'm I to say no? so of course as it is when i get this way, flirty raspberry comes out to play and i'm all huggy and stuff and i'm not sure my friend has ever seen me this way... but whatevs it's all good and then all of a sudden i'm *too* drunk to be there anymore.

so of course we step outside and pay the pizza delivery guy $20 to take us home. why settle for a taxi ride when you can risk life and limb being delivered in 30minutes or less? fucking hell now i know why sometimes when you get your 'za the toppings have all travelled over to one side of the pie. i seriously didn't think i was going to make it home - and really i would have taken death as long as i didn't yak the contents of my belly all over the back of that pizza soiled chariot to hell.

i don't know why you say goodbye i say

Oh.
hello, blog.

it's been a fun filled week of visitor and wedding pree-paration. yes just one visitor but heck - she's worth a few at a time.

which is to say that i am hungover, but i have a wedding dress. the original plan of having a friend make it sort of went to the wayside - the timeline is just too short to go ahead with something like that.

soooo when out shopping yesterday we wandered into BCBG and found a marylin monroe style halter dress in sort of a cream colour. i'm very excited... it needs to be altered a tad but that's easy enough to do. and now... onto shoe shopping!

excess ain't rebellion

i'm trying to keep this wedding thing under control - i really am. this week i have a dress fitting, a cake discussion meeting, and apparently need to send out *real* invitations to the first wedding even though only wanted to do an announcement combined with an invitation to the reception. hmph.

so the architect and i were stranged in hermosa beach this weekend. as people keep saying - there are *definately* worse places to be stranded, but once you've checked out of your hotel room and have to keep schlepping around becoming slowly more and more sunburnt, you eventually just want to go home.

especially when you find yourself eating canned-filling apple pie and drinking cut-rate tea in a denny's by the service shop because your feet hurt and you just want to sit down and have really really stooped this far it's true *sob*.

ahem.

anyhoo.

so yeah we were kind of worried about le chat 'cause we've never left him alone overnight before. he was, of course, fine and barely noticed our absence, i'm sure. i'm still exhausted 'cause it was kind of emotionally draining and because i walked about a billion miles yesterday (no seriously - a billion) and just don't want to get out of bed. le sigh - I suppose that I should, though, because i need to track down a notebook or something so that i can start keeping track of the stuff i need to keep track of... grrr.

it's a good thing that i was once a project manager because i'm sure not naturally organized.

work and love will make a man out of you

who knew this frickin' wedding business was so much work? i thought we'd find a place, get a reservation at a restaurant, i'd buy a dress and hey-presto! we're hitched let's get LOADED!

apparently not, though. first off, did you know that for your flowers, you can't actually just pick flowers that you like, they also have to be IN SEASON? i thought you could just walk into a florists shop and pretty much buy anything at any time. isn't that why they have greenhouses, these days?

i think part of the problem is that i signed up for this website called 'the knot' and it has these huge checklists of stuff to do, along with a timeline for when they need to be done. right off the bat i had over 150 items overdue - it doesn't take into account the fact that this isn't a wedding wedding. however, as soon as i saw all of those exclamation points i started to get stressed oooooot.

oh there's a new city & colour album - it's really good.

blogging romania

i just watched anthony bourdain eat a pig snout in a crazy victorian-themed restaurant somewhere in romania.

keep in mind that i do this only for maktaaq. she hasn't got cable, you see, and so i told her i'd take this one for the team.

heh.

i'll talk tomorrow about a paper plate with a ground meat kebab (who knew romanian food was so middle eastern) and a pickle. until then, think about how drunk i got last night with my new sunday night cohorts, and how much pasta i ate.

i will be fat in moments, if not seconds - hold tight and watch me bloat.

xo

lazy sundae wake up in the late... well morning but still

oh i'm sorry for the absentee blogger syndrome. what can i say? i'm a terrible hostess. even worse, i have very little time for you this morning - i'm off to give a tour to a bride and groom of the wedding i'm coordinating the week after my own.

heh that's so weird to say. it's kind of like all of a sudden i'm in this club. a club with buhjillions of members, 'tis true, but a club nonetheless.

yesterday was the architect's bday, so we went out and grabbed some dinner with his old friend from motorcycle racing, then headed over to the aero for drinks. oh and more drinks. and more drinks. i played the 'wander away from the cocktail' game so that i was in better shape than most, but the architect was kit-n-kaboodled. his coffee is sitting on the bedside table beside him, but he just kind of opened one eye and groaned. poor guy has to go to some meetings today... it's cool 'cause through the magic of the innerweb i've managed to meet some cool people here. yay for starting to make friends!


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

i heard the other day that the lightbulb factory let go of a bunch more people - a couple of whom i considered friends - and that makes me sad, but at the same time so happy to not be there anymore.

wrasslin

dude let me tell you now - ric flair is alive and well and still fighting in the WWE. i know this because last night i was there. i probably don't strike you as the type who'd be into that sort of thing, and heck, let's not kid i don't strike *myself* as that sort, but we were given tickets so we went.

i was deaf for 2 hours after the pyrotechnics.

my overall response was sort of bewilderment - it's such a huge production and people are *so* into it. just not my cup of tea, i guess. there used to be a blog regular here who was deep into it. i wish he were still around so i could talk to him but there you are.

the crowd was hugely predominantly mexican - i'll admit that my knowledge of mexican wrasslin stems entirely from nacho libre but i think it's fairly big in that culture.

i was also stricken by how *theatrical* it is - every action and movement is so exaggerated: the players are communicating with the crowd with every gesture; their characters are clearly defined and they play to their roles and to the crowds reactions.

it was kind of neat.

and here is a picture of my cat for no reason at all.

times are achanging

big news in the world today... what with fidel stepping down and george w talking about bringing democracy to cuba and smog* does that mean he's thinking his 'legacy' will be a deomcratic cuba perhaps the 56th state of the union or maybe just a district or whatever it is that they call puerto rico.

oh and also tenbucks is discontinuing their breakfast sammiches (no loss, according to the sister: "too eggy", she reports) and is bringing in refillable coffees and $1 short coffees, at least in their homebase seattle wa.

you know the economy is in the shitter when starbucks starts lowering prices. fortunately the architect is in restaurant design, and restaurants are generally the one market that doesn't suffer when the economy is bad. clearly people are cutting back on the $6 lattes, though. i'm half expecting to see a tim hortons popping up on every block here in SD - their coffee is like crack, yo.

in other worlds, i'm trying to find an outside locale to have my wedding, and a place to host the wedding dinner.

also - all my american friends (and goshfukkit my canadian ones too) should check out rick mercer's rant from the feb 5th show for a remarkably astute discussion of the difference between canadian and american electoral processes. oh and then watch the 'dude' one, just for fun.

oh and i'm homesick in a big way today.





* see previous post for definition.

bottle in front of me (vs a frontal lobotomy, though the differences are not readily apparent)

smog* i did a little drinking last night.... one of the bookclub cohorts rounded up a few people for some presidents day libations at a local dive bar yesterday. the architect dropped me off**, we did scotch flights set up by the bartender, who is a local favourite, and then headed off to a super cheep, super delicious italian joint for pasta and pizza family style (though i had my own pasta 'cause of the whole food allergy thing).

other than that, our weekend was fun and sort of non-eventful. we had a delayed valentines dinner at a local mexican joint (that has the most GINOURMOUS tequila menu, by the way), ate brunch out, did the farmers market, oh and I made hummus with my new food processor (yay for valentines gifts!)

oh and we also scoped out a couple of wedding-type locations. heh. wedding locations.... so surreal.


* sweet mother of god
** a funny conversation occurred on the way down. we'd been discussing (previously) how important it is for couples to have separate interests & activities. it's shaping up that his will be cycling (he's getting back into roadbikes) and mine will be... you guessed it... drinking. amen sister friend.

new topic!

happy valentine's day come on people, now, smile on your brother everybody! get together, try to love one another not later, but right now! (paraphrasing nirvana paraphrasing the indigo girls. no seriously - the indigo girls)

no spring rolls for you!

ok for a country that has suffered so much in the name of 'purity of race' Israel's recent actions to reduce the number of asian cooks seems a little bit like .. i dunno... hubris to me. and a tad ironic, doncha think? they have already dropped the number of permits available to asian or foreign born chefs by 400, and they are seeking to eliminate them altogether, saying that israelis could be trained to do the work.

of course they can. heck - anyone who's read anything about modern kitchens in the US knows that 7/10 chefs in the top french, italian, chinese, whathaveyou restaurants across the country are mexican. just last night on anthony bourdain your fearless leader watched her hero dining on sushi crafted by someone from puebla.

that, however, is not the point. the point is that you already have to prove jewish ancestry in order to immigrate to Israel. the point is that this recent move by the israeli government smacks of non-confrontational ethnic cleansing. the point is that you would think that the israelis, of all people, would be a bit more tolerant.

seriously

is it just me this happens to? i swear to god my tolerance for alcohol is ZERO when i've got my period. like we didn't have any more wine than we usually do of an evening, and i'm *so* hungover today it isn't close to funny. like i've taken god knows how many painkillers and i still have a headache.

of course the wandering to the post office in the 30degree weather probably didn't help the dehydration but goshfukkit i had to mail a letter to my grandma and get me some hangover fries.

so yeah.. married... easter weekend... somewhere outside.. probably some friends and family will turn up, then we'll go to a restaurant and get drunkers. hee. poor guy doesn't know what he's getting into...

actually, he probably does, and yet this hasn't deterred him in the least. he must be sicker than i am.

hey little sister what's your vice and wish

guess who's gettin married?

another manic monday

it's true - mondays are hectic here at the sundae sanatorium. even as we speak i'm lying here in bed, listening to the cat chitter at birds (c-cc-cc-cc-c-c'mere bird! (it's like he stutters)), sipping a cup of coffee that the architect delivered to me in bed before leaving for work, and wondering what to do with myself today NAY this whole week.

ahem.

come on now... don't be hatin - this unemployment gig is hard work.

seriously.

heh ok i don't buy it either but i do have to find things to do to keep myself busy so that i don't go stir crazy and murder myself, the cat, and the architect. i can't imagine being a sixties-era housewife, with nothing to look forward to every day except crying dirty children and six loads of laundry. *shudders*.

(now i know that it is what some people aspire to - being able to stay home and take care of the kids - and i'm not knocking them for it, i'm just saying it's not for me. simmer.)

ug i dunno what to write this morning....

i think this decision to move to SD (aside from the obvious drawbacks like missing my family and friends) was a really good one. knock wood - but my relationship with the architect seems to be getting better and better even with the money stress (which is getting to be less and less); the sunshine does wonders for my depression; my job was sucking the life out of me - now that i'm away from it i can genuinely think about maybe going back to school; our neighbourhood is awesome: we can walk to pretty much everything we need, including bars, restaurants, haircuts, farmers market; and we're starting to actually get a house put together. (knock wood, knock wood, knock wood). we don't live an extravagent exciting lifestyle, but it's quiet and happy and comfortable. i figure that's a good thing...

laugh-out-loud (no really i did)

I wonder if Al Gore realized when he invented the internets that he was just creating a bigger black hole for a calendar so cliched February makes you want to swear: Fuck aphrodisiacs and the “romantic dinner for two” they rode in on.

i love the smell of vitriol in the morning....

i miss this bra

i need a new pale pink under white stuff bra. the one i have is starting to rip and the straps slide at inopportune moments. i want another one like the one in the picture - i like the satiny bit at the top - but i can't remember where i got the original and, let's not kid, it was in vancouver so it doesn't do me any good here. not to mention the fact that the picture is 2.5 years old, so even if i *could* remember where i got it, i probably wouldn't be able to get it again. fuck progress.

isn't it romantic

nothing says i love you like the word 'supermarket' tattooed across your belly. actually, i like the idea of having 'supermarket' written in kanji somewhere on my body - dog knows i heart the grocery store - but i guess when you *think* you are getting your boyfriend's name carved on your person, finding out it actually says tesco, or perhaps safeway, (or ooo! trader joe's!) is a bit of a letdown.

my favourite part, though, isn't the fact that this person didn't actually take the time to do a bit of research to find out what the characters should be (love *is*, after all, dependent upon romantic spontaneity) it's that she "did not think about whether it meant forever". here's a tip - the pain should generally be your first clue that we aren't talking funhouse temporary airbrushing, it's the real dealio.

she works hard for the money

did i ever mention that i became ordained?

yeah i did - so that i could perform weddings. (cue the sound of my mother laughing hysterically. she laughed almost as hard when i told her this as she did the day she tried to watch me sew a straight line on the sewing machine)

anyhoo, yesterday i went and married a couple for the first time. you know, aside from the obvious incongruity of me performing weddings (it's weird even for me, seriously), it's a damn nice way to make a living. you don't work for very long, and it's rewarding to say the least. plus the money's not bad. i made almost as much yesterday as the architect, didn't start till 9, was done by 1, and spent half of the time lounging in the sunshine having lunch once we went through the rehearsal.

wow, though- i wore 'real' heels yesterday for the first time in forever (aside from my boots) and i almost died - squashing my poor toesies into those pointy torture devices, then walking back and forth at a quick pace from one end of a cruise ship to the other after wearing wide toed boots and/or sneakers for 3 months was just this side of agony.
i'm surprised they agreed to hold me up for the rest of the day...

hc *is* tf

you know, i like reese, even with her perky chin. an ad for legally blonde came up yesterday as we were avoiding the superbowl and the architect looked at me and asked 'do you relate to RW in that movie?' and i had to say yes.

man i had a *super* lazy weekend. like lazy even by my recent life standards... didn't really run errands, didn't really do much cooking, didn't really do much except lounge, eat, make out with my boyfriend, read books and watch tv. it was kinda nice to have company in my sloth.

i perused the s-bowl ads online this morning.. i liked the audi ad 'cause i like audis and MINE, by the way, and i liked the JT ad (but mostly cause of andy samberg - also MINE), but my favourite was the coke balloons ad. it was just kinda pretty, and look at charlie brown go he finally got the prize in the end... brought a tear.

or not.

but still.

i'm stuck on bandaid 'cause bandaid's stuck on me

does anyone know why cilantro, more than any other herb, sticks to your fingers? this is something that has puzzled me for *years*, seriously.

i mean, there must be some kind of reason for it. anyone? anyone? bueller?

moving on.

i'm feeling really lazy today - actually, i'm on our couch (which is *not* comfy, and is one of the first things we will change after we get a kitchen table), i'm wrapped up in my fuzzy pink skull blanket, i just finished a cup of tea and i think that if i give myself any kind of chance i will be asleep in six seconds. it's kinda grey outside, and is definitely chilly in here, so why not? i've got the heat on, the cat hasn't emerged from beneath the quilt in the bedroom for hours... i say, nap.

xo