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...