don't think don't speak

i've been listening to adam freeland on the way to work in the morning. it's really really good - house-y breaks keep me seat dancing all over the car. spo, if you ever find the adam freeland on that site, you'll understand.
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sent the carlot boy a text message last night "you are horrid for my poor ego" i said. he is more than a little bit of a workaholic. he'll turn up and we'll go have a drink and a good chat and kiss a bit then i won't see him or hear from him for three months. when i do he'll be in the middle east for six weeks visiting family (now that was a crazy phone call to get) or he'll have taken over another car dealership and be working fourteen hour days.

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

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

think, thank, thunk

ok so here's the deal.

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

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

no, not that way, you cheeky monkey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

hmmmmm.

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

five habits

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

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

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

wtf?

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

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

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

i love being right.

*yawn*

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

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

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

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

but i'm doing neither.

especially the sex.

goshfukkit.

somebody help a girl out?

i don't like mondays (tell me why)

i'm so sleepy.

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

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

mind you, i'm completely self diagnosing.

i could be pregnant.

with tnb's baby.

how freakin funny would that be?

it would be, as spo says, a corker.

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


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

c'est formidable!

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

ok so i had this fucking unbelievable idea.

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

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

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

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

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

part the first: spo's list

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

part the second: the comments

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

part the third: sundae's pix

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

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

how fun is that?

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edit - 9.24pm

i missed:

beastie boys: hey ladies

trix are for kids

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

business will resume as regularly scheduled imminently, i promise.

dec 6, 1989

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

drinking and looking and drinking and looking and drinking and looking

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

Nah that’s all boring shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now what will I do?

tis the season

from the desk of rick mercer

sweet you rock

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

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

i burned my left breast.

it feels like a really bad sunburn.

i'm not at all pleased.

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

stink.

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

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

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update sevenpm

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

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

i may be forced to watch the wedding planner.

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

eight20nine
also "slutty undies".

a heart of stone a smoking gun

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

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

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

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

and i'll agree, to an extent.

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

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

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

cold feet

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

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

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

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

but i have to go back tomorrow.

jamie foxx is pretty fucking hot, dude.

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

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

mews

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

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

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

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

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

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

you are beautiful

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

people.

people.

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

people.

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

people.

we.

all.

know.



ps - tony heart's jessica

dutch courage

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

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

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

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

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

fucker.

why do i only like the boys with baggage?

why do only boys in longterms smile at me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

oopsy daisy

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

creative my ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

words to live by, my friends, words to live by. my only hesitancy arises from the difficulty of accurately connecting with the testes of the gentleman in question once one's eyes are, in fact, closed. what if you missed and kicked him in the knee? you'd just come off as slightly childish, or perhaps a tad peeved. or, worse yet, if you missed entirely, did a total haymaker with your leg, and fell squarely on your biscuit? he'd be compelled to help you regain your footing, your composure would be undone, you'd be completely vulnerable and succumb to his charms. voila, and welcome back to square one. in conclusion, it is good advice, but i'd modify the plan to keep one eye closed, and one eye sort of squinted shut but still kind of open - as though you were playing hide and seek and needed to suss out the direction in which the cute boys were running.
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i've had this post saved in draft all day 'cause i heard that lyric (the one used for the title) in an iron & wine song and thought it was humourous as well as astute. can't beat that - two birds, one stone, if you will. along the same vein, today is (possibly) voltaire's birthday. or it would be if he were still alive. and it might not be - it might be some other day. how delightfully cryptic. i heart that. v. has said two things (well he's said many things but there are two which i love to love) that stick out in my mind as particularly pertinant to my current state of mind and or body.

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

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

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