is your name michael diamond?

ah come on - y'all know the next line. admit it.

i feel kinda beat up. i'm not sure if i'm fighting off a cold or flu, or if it's just the stress of the move. the guys we hired to bring the architect's stuff from kits to ladner cancelled last night due to weather, and he sort of has to be out by 1pm tomorrow. i'm not too stressed, since i paid rent till the 15th and, let's not kid, i rent from my parents and while they are looking forward to converting my bedroom to a tv room it's not too entirely pressing a desire. a few days one side or the other of this weekend doesn't matter much to anyone.

well, except me 'cause i just want the whole ordeal to be OVER.

i want to take some cleaner and some shelf paper over and bring the dishes etc and start getting settled. i can't tell you how much i'm looking forward to having my own space, my own kitchen, my own living room. oh and my own kitchen table - still don't have one of those, but i've got a damn cool purple chaise that no one will be allowed to eat on goshfukkit.

slip sliding away

my office is decidedly empty so far this morning. mind you, it did take me an hour to get here, today (a quick americano pitstop notwithstanding) and that was in the architect's all wheel drive winter tire clad audi. i'm not entirely sure i would have made it out of my driveway in my little green goblin.

i was off yesterday obstensibly to pack, but ended up baking muffins and shovelling out the entrance to the condo complex. i hurled ice and (very heavy) snow for over 2 hours and today am hobbling like a geriatric former NFL quarterback. very sexy, let me tell you. this is interesting though - i have this little cordless, heated, hand-held massager. as a result of my poor aching back, the architect and i actually used it for its intended purpose last night. sweet mother of god how glorious is *that*? i can't believe i never considered using it for an actual massage before. not exactly sure what that says about my personality, but there it is...

you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness

ug i have a crapload of work today but am suffering a low-grade hangover, and really *really* can't get into it. plus we found out yesterday that our bonuses are going to be over a month late - frustrating because of le relocation as well as le christmas. le sigh.

last night we went for dinner at friends - drank a couple of bottles of wine and discovered my new favouite drink. mm kahlua and almond milk. well i think it was good, anyway - i've been taking a *lot* of painkillers so the wine hit me a little harder than it normally does, if you catch my drift. this weekend has a few things up - maybe a lounge for a girls night out on friday, possibly dancing on saturday, and a whole lot of packing. good thing i have monday off, too.

the new house... it's 3/4 of a house - 3 bedrooms plus a den, all laminate flooring with a little deck out front and a big covered deck (perfect for year round bbq-ing) in back. as well, the back yard is lovely. there is one girl living downstairs - the landlord says she's super nice, but we've not met her yet. we are going to try and put the kiddo's room as far away from hers as possible so that he doesn't bother her with music late at night, but still feels free to play it. the house is painted in varying shades of blue except for the 2 small bedrooms which are white and the master bedroom which is a mocha colour that the architect and i picked. we're going to paint the kiddo's room dark red for him, 'cause he's always wanted that. we'll just have to paint it back before we move out again. the other good thing is that we didn't have to sign a lease - after the summer we can move back to the city no problemo.

i'm super excited - i've been buying bamboo towels and fun stuffs for the kitchen and looking at christmas lights and all sorts of stuff. i can't wait, but i'm really nervous, too. it's been a long time since i lived with someone. what if he decides he hates my funny little eccentricities? what if i all of a sudden hate his?

i wanna show you how the mailboy flirts

so a bunch of people over at alaska airlines got reprimanded and/or dismissed for talking about their jobs on their myspace pages.

rule 1 of blogging - if you want to remain anonymous, don't post your name and photos of yourself.
rule 2 of blogging - if you want to keep your job, either make sure your employer is a-ok with your site or shut the fuck up about your place of employ.
rule 3 of blogging - no flashing icons, sparkly bits dancing across the screen, or midi soundtracks.

ok three isn't a rule just a quiet, desperate plea from me, raspberry sundae.

this whole move thing is creeping on up super quick. the architect booked the truck to get his stuff from kits to l-town for NEXT WEDNESDAY. i'm getting really excited about the prospects of having a place of my own - one where i can invite all my friends back for dinner, or games, or cocktails... who wants to come to my housewarming?

where are you going

ok so here's my issue.

i had to take a little break here 'cause i've become desperately afraid of being one of those bloggers who just kind of falls into a routine of talking about their relationship and what she did for the weekend and how great/boring/much of a dolt/much of a wonderful example of humanity her boyfriend is.

so i'm working on finding a new path here, and working on making sure that i *make* time for this little bloggy, 'cause i do love coming here and i've missed the interaction i have with myself and with the readers (assuming i have any left). i just want to make sure i don't get caught in a rut. there are bloggers, of course, who manage to keep their lives and their inner voices entirely separate. i want to be one of those.

so bear with me as i find my footing, ok? the next few weeks will be a little rocky, but i'm sure my voice will come back and all will be well in blogland, again. i'll go back to writing about sex and stuff and shoes and more stuff and more shoes and getting loaded/high/going dancing/the kiddo/etc and no one will know that we've had this little 'break' ok bloggity? ok

xo

(edit - thanks to spo, this sort of sums it up...)

rocky mountain hi-iiiyh

so here are my first impressions of colorado springs - mother fucker is flat. seriously. ok yes there is a mountain over there, oh and there's that bunker disguised as a rockpile they call norad but when we were flying over denver you could see the rockies on one side and then i could see straight through to new york to the east i swear to god.

i'm drinking the weakest coffee in the world, at the moment, by the way. mmm hotel room coffee. so so bland.

our plan is to leave here on saturday, drive through to sheridan wyoming (former home of buffalo bill hickock) and spend the night, then go to missoula montana (called the garden city because it's apparently warmer than anywhere else in the state), and then home monday.

walmart is bringing back christmas. makes sense to me - say happy holidays all you want but the holiday you are celebrating 'round about that time of year is kinda christmas, here in north america. yes there are other holidays around that time of year, and you are right not everyone celebrates christmas, but heck - you don't have to celebrate them now do you? but that's just me - it's the P/C thing that has always irritated me the most. anyway, what has that got to do with colorado springs? well because walmart is the largest employer in el paso county (which is where i happen to be). crazy, huh?

anyhooo... i have to finish my beige water and head on out. i've got a busy day as a booth babe in front of me.

xo

i like to move it move it

written earlier today
I’m currently flying somewhere over (or so I speculate) eastern Washington. Sadly, I have no idea what is just east of Washington. I will, however, be finding out soon. I’ve been mentally making clichéd observations about patchwork landscapes that I’m ashamed to put to put to paper. I’m a better writer than that, dammit, but it’s true – the landscape does look like a patchwork quilt lovingly embroidered by your mom or grandma or someone who cares about you and just wants you to stay warm wrapped up in that proverbial blanket of emotion.

So there.

I’m reading that newish book by chuck klosterman and it’s making me feel like I should be working harder at what I know I’m good at – sitting back and finding patterns in books and the world at large and talking about them in writing. I feel this way because he writes in the same conversational tone as I do (at this point I feel the need to apologize for any perceived sense of hubris or self-idoloatry, but I can’t because I’m busy restraining myself from taking angus macintoy and whapping him over the head of the woman sitting in front of me. She keeps attempting to recline her seat back farther – I’m fairly sure it’s as far back as it should politely be reclined in these days of limited legroom and economy class bloodclots – and jamming my computer into my belly as I type. Rawr.) Anyway, C-dawg writes with the same tone as me (though infinitely more skill) and it makes me feel as though I should be doing more of it.

It’s hard, though, what with the architect pretty much living in my bedroom with me, since my car still refuses to function to expectation. I feel kinda rude whacking away at the bloggity, but there it is. So I try to write when I first get to work, but that can be dodgy as well – what if there are phone messages? Emails? Notes left on my monitor by colleagues and superiors? Dodgy.

The united cabin crew is distributing beverages and light snacks intended to keep the masses sated during our 2-hour hop to Denver. I’ve been handed biscuits which I am (miraculously) not allergic to, and am accepting a glass of nay an entire can of (strangely) tomato juice. Why tomato juice? I have no idea.

The architect had originally intended to fly to Colorado springs with me. Flight prices discouraged, this, and then just yesterday we formulated this spur of the moment adventure plan – he’s driving down, and we are going to take 3 days to drive back together (hence my cryptic comment about learning a bit about American geography). I’m excited about this because I’ve not seen much of the states – some bits of Tennessee, Atlanta, seattle (but only recently) and george Washington (which I now am intimately familiar with).

As an aside, no one else is bouncing around in their seat the way the woman in front of me is. I wonder if she can feel my laser death rays penetrating her seatback? Do you think she knows how close she is to horrifying mutilation and/or dismemberment?

My moustache still tastes of your testes!

so the rental agreement was signed on friday - it's official. the architect and i are shackin' up. this causes me belly aches of excitement and/or sheer terror.

speaking of belly aches - went to see Borat this weekend. you know, it debuted at #1, even though it's only playing on something like 800 screens. people clearly like making fun of americans & minorities. i wonder how many can see the social satire that is at the root of the humour? don't get me wrong - by the end of the film i wasn't even laughing anymore, just making a sick kind of wheezing noise. the kiddo was in a similar state - i looked over at him and he was supporting his head in his hand, holding his stomach, and the tears were rolling down his face. go see it - it's great.

on wednesday morning i'm going to colorado springs for work. the architect was originally going to go with me, but tickets are pricey so i told him to save the money and spend it on cool house stuff like, oh i dunno, a kitchen table, which we kinda need.

plus we are going to try and go to seattle to see adam freeland (joy!) and i want christmas presents...

this city is haunted

who says drugs don't pay? kate moss (just voted 'model of the year' at the british fashion awards) earned 30,013,935.67CAD last year - the year she was dropped from several lucrative modelling contracts after pictures of her *allegedly* hoovering back line upon line of gak hit the tabloids. this is, of course, in comparison to the 9,646,691.10CAD she earned the year *before* the pictures were published.

what is this i'm feeling? frustration? amusement? bemusement? could it be that i find myself actually giving a shit about the hipocrasy of the media and public opinion? it couldn't be that i'm surprised, surely.

i know, i know. don't call me shirley.

that big corner office in the sky....

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

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

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

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

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

Gak.

got thrashed throughout the 30s

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

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

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

violent knight at the edge of your knife

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

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

moving on....

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

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

le sigh.

the hunt continues....

arg

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

bugger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the hardest button to button

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

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

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

oh plus he woke me up for sex.

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

we like him.

my blood before me begs me

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

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

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

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

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

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

you bring the discrepancies, i'll pour the drinks

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

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

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

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

bon appetit you've eaten me alive you realize

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

what to do?

third world war third round

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

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

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

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

good luck and good night.











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

route de la slack

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

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

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

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

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