Category Archives: Little Spitfire

August 2005

August 1, 2005 Heather Leave a comment

Burned Boobs, Sore Calves, & New IKEA KnickKnacks – Monday, August 1, 2005 – 7pm

Also, my feet stink. I’m going to fix that now.

. . .

The burned boobs are due to Day 2 of Vancouver Pride (Saturday) and my first time ever at a “clothing optional” beach. The boyz and I sprawled on the sands of Wreck Beach and they checked out all the naked hotties from behind their sunglasses while I worked very hard to get rid of my bikini-top tanlines.

JON: Did you put sunscreen on your nipples?

HEATHER: Do nipples burn?

My boobs are an uncomfortable red now, and I’m hoping that the sad tanlines have been destroyed. Sad irony if the burn fades to bright white skin again.

To get to/from Wreck Beach you have to descend/climb a THOUSAND steps, and I don’t know if that’s the direct cause of my achy calves but it’s definitely the only exercise I had this weekend (except for dancing at Celebrities) so it’s the excuse I’m using. Everything from my knees down feels like a very tight rope. A mystery. And it makes stairs extra fun.

Day 4 (today) Q and I went to IKEA and I love IKEA. He bought proper red wine glasses & champagne flutes (he’s really been into champagne lately) and I got a red duvet cover (YAY!!) and some other random shit. Also, an airtight glass container so I can stock up on green tea asap.

And on Day 3 Regan came with us to the parade and it was her first ever Pride Parade. She liked the families the best. I like all the happy love vibes.

I wrote a bunch on my new play, so I’ll put that up fairly soon . . . and I took some pictures . . .

There were many random adventures this weekend that I thought about and intended to mention, but I can’t remember a lot of it. (I think the Prozac is to blame.) But I did get four kisses, from:
1. don’t remember
2. Scott, who has amazing eyebrows
3. Lukas, with sexy Buddy Holly glasses
4. don’t remember.

Also, someone touched my boob. I think it was Jon or Lance.

My favourite thing about gay bars and gay boyz is the feeling of safety. I don’t have to be all defensive about strangers touching me, like women have to at straight clubs (boo to drunk boys with greedy hands); I don’t have to be rude or shoot down anyone who approaches me, since they really are just being nice; there’s ALWAYS someone to dance with (but he’s inevitably a better dancer than me); and when I’m ready to leave, everyone helps find a cab, and no one tries to get into it with me.

Anyhoo, I’m sleepy (despite all my naps this weekend). I’m going to have a shower and change into nammies and watch craptv until I fall asleep.

The Bunnies
Almost forgot — due to fears re: potential rat issues, I moved Seamus & Caramel into the kitchen to protect them while I was away. Peter had the rest of the apartment, as usual. Q always comes in with me when we return from adventures, supposedly to help me with my stuff but really (I suspect) in case a bunny or three is hurt/dead and therefore to save time, since I’d just call him anyways. All 3 are alive and well this time, which is a huge relief. They drank a lot of water but certainly weren’t short on supplies — I always leave out extra in case the Apocalypse comes while I’m out of town.

Oh Gees, My Feet Stink Really Badly – August 2, 2005 – 8:31 pm
I can’t tell if it’s Peter’s litter box or my socks or even my hands (from putting on my socks) but ew. I think the fact that my feet-stink & the aroma of Peter’s litter box are interchangeable demonstrates just how foul this smell is.

On another note, I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong with my legs (i.e. they hurt a lot): I gave my RockStar a Heather Doll months ago, and I bet he’s been snuggling it a bit too tightly lately and so, due to inadvertant voodoo properties, my legs are really sore now.

I have to burn some incense or light a candle or something. This is vicious.

Word of the Day
“diagnosis”

(Actually, any “diag-” word is pretty neato . . . )

Half-Assed Culinary Endeavors – Wednesday, August 3, 2005 – 5:38 pm
I’m making Kraft dinner. The saddest part is that my first thought, once I found the box and decided to make it, was: I hope I don’t mess up the noodles again. It’s only five ingredients (if you count the water), and yet I continually make inedible KD.

Bonding With Susie
Nathan’s taking me to see a play tonight! I’m excited. I love plays. I hope it’s good. Also, he’s feeding me tequila as a pre-play lubricant, so that’s why I’m eating KD.

Sneaky Plot to Get Some Snuggles
I haven’t mentioned this yet, but my RockStar has been in touch and while I’m not entirely sure of his intentions I’m determined to exploit him for some snuggles. Also, my new play is inspired by him, so I need the material.

Anyhoo, my plot is to lure him over here with promises of a Writing Thingy (he’s weak for writing thingies, I suspect) and then seduce him.

Ha! I’m devious. And seriously in need of some snuggles — I can’t even have a decent afternoon nap these days, because my brain goes all crazy with sexy memories.

That might be one of those private things that I’m not supposed to write about.

Changing the Subject Gracefully
I sat in the sunshine again today while doing my Suduko puzzle and goddamnit, I got those stupid belly-roll/zebra-stripe tanlines again on my stomach. I took immediate action and laid down in the backyard so as to even things out, but too late . . . it’s one thing to have belly rolls; it’s much worse to highlight them.

Also
The bunnies are fine, thanks.

Unpleasant Flashbacks – August 3, 2005 – 10:46 pm
Ugh.

Sometimes I forget how GODAWFUL everything is when I’m not happily medicated. And then I’m in a situation where factors converge (e.g. sleepiness, giddiness, anxiousness, excitement) and ALL OF A SUDDEN I know that I will go crackers and scream and rant and kill people with my flailing arms UNLESS I let my physical self reassert control over my crazy mental/emotional/chemical self, and therefore I bite my hand.

I consider this an acceptable form of self-harm. It’s better than cutting, burning, steam, or whatever else. Teeth can only do so much damage, and they leave a very satisfying (but temporary and easily concealed) mark.

If an alternative is available, like very cold water or the opportunity to run REALLY HARD, then I do that instead. But in claustrophobic social situations, when I’m dressed up and trying not to get too sweaty, a good quick bite makes everything calm again.

On That Note
I went to see the Ballad of Jim Pane tonight with Nathan and it was a VERY well written, well put-together play. I love anything that makes musicals acceptable to the general population.

If I hadn’t had a freakout and left right away, these are the things I would have liked to discuss with Russ, the playwright:

1. What’s the point of producing a play re: politics from the ’70s? Maybe it’s my own anti-historical, egocentric bias, but I just don’t see what Vietnam-America has to do with my life.

2. Phil Ochs is so good. I’m glad you like him too. Do you like him too? I still remember a verse from “The Crucifixion” from back in my early teens:

Night comes again
to the circle-studded sky
the stars settle slowly
in loneliness they lie
’til the universe explodes
as a falling star is raised
– the planets are paralysed,
the mountains are amazed –
then it all glows brighter
with the brilliance of the blaze
and with the speed of insanity,
he dies.

Busy, Sad, Drunk, Amused – August 4, 2005 – 9:56 pm
Today was nutty busy at work and also I was ridiculously incompetent. Sometimes that happens. Those are the times that I think: why am I not scribbling and starving and therefore not waking up for crazy early office hours and doing things incorrectly so that I then feel incompetent? And then I remember that I’m usually very good at my job and that I love it and that I have $30,000 in student loan debt and that I can never write when that’s the only thing in my life and THEREFORE that this is the best choice for me at this particular time and THEREFORE that I should just suck up the self-pity and go buy something nice for myself.

Eventually I left and visited my local liquor store where the staff know me (which makes me feel very uncomfortable — I really don’t go there that often. Really.) and I bought Kahluah and something new to me called creme de cacao, which apparently is a super substitute for vodka in White Russians.

And then I went to Q’s and snuggled with Celeste and wandered around in my underwear and drank White Russians until I “fell asleep” on the couch. And then I woke up at 7:30pm and felt MUCH better, so I came home and watched the end of Fight Club, which is freaking genius and always has something new to offer me.

And now I’m going to bed.

BEST NEWS EVER
On the Road is finally going to be made into a movie!!!!!!!!!!!

craptv is Crap – Friday, August 5, 2005 – 7:48 pm
That’s why I like to own movies.

Watch Your F@#$in’ Mouth
I accidentally bought the censored version of The Marshall Mathers LP back in my early days of Eminem. It might have been fate: that version deletes all the “offensive” words, like “faggot,” that might have coloured my affection for the music. Or not. We’ll never know.

I finally got around to getting the real version, and now I’m surprised to see how tame the “offensive” words are: I imagined worse when I filled in the blanks. But then, I have a filthy mouth.

My sexy iBook came with iTunes, which comes with an iMusicStore, where I can buy (i)Music. I’ve never had good luck with those (illegal) download sites: I crashed two or three PCs with Kazaa. So I really love iMusicStore, because I can pay a dollar for a song or about $10 for a whole CD, and that way I get quality music for cheap without the spyware and et cetera.

Also I don’t like screwing over artists, even billionaires* like Marshall Mathers. (*I considered including “bigots” for alliterative effect, but I don’t consider Eminem a bigot so no.)

Bitter Scripts
I’ve been distracted lately by BEING CRAZY, so I haven’t worked on this as much as I’d like to. Hopefully I’ll get another scene or so done this weekend.

I offered to describe my creative process to Q, since famous writers are often asked about their creative process, but he had Absolutely No Interest Whatsoever.

Heather’s Creative Process
I don’t want to talk about conception; I might jinx it. But once an idea is there and open to development, I like to carry around hardcopies of the latest version so I can make notes and write new bits on the backsides and (if necessary) give a current version to anyone who’s interested (aka one of my director or actor or writer friends). After my story “(Title Goes Here)” was sorta in script form for On the Rag I went through about seven hardcopies.

Brad Pitt’s Wisdom
re: generation gap between us and our grand/parents:

“Our war is a spiritual war. Our depression is our lives.”
– Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Crispy Skin – Saturday, August 6, 2005 – 10:04 pm
Q wanted to go to Thetis Lake today and look at all the hootchies for a few hours, so we recruited Jessie, Shawn & Andrew to amuse us at the beach.

QUINN: You invited a redhead?! He better bring 45 sunscreen.

Andrew & Jessie & I tried very hard to remember how to play crib, and we ended up playing this mutant card game, which I eventually won. Shawn’s reading a collection of novellas written by the guy who wrote Clockwork Orange, Q’s mid-The Kid by Dan Savage, and Andrew’s trying to like A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Jessie and I just laid there and tried to look pretty.

After three or so hours we were hungry – Shawn had missed at least 2 of his 7 daily meals – so we went to the Six Mile Pub and ate poutine and drank. It’s about then that I noticed a distinctly “crispy” feeling on my left side. Like the skin was extra tight and sensitive.

Once I was about to have my 6-9pm nappy nap I realised that my left side is very red. Especially my ass.

Recipe For a Sunburn-Soothing Bath
Water temperature: tepid water
Cut a cucumber into slices and put them within arm’s reach.
Pour 1/2 cup cornstarch under the running tap.
Add 6-12 black tea or chamomile teabags.
Get into the tub.
Layer any above-surface burned areas with the cukes.
Lie there for at least 20 minutes, to give the teabags’ anti-inflammatory effects time to work.

This recipe is one of many in my book The Bath Gourmet, by Rhonda Van.

I’m nervous about wasting the teabags.

Letting Shawn Read My New Script
I’m reluctant to share works-in-progress because it makes the reader(s) feel uncomfortable, as if they have to like it and sit there and read it with me watching and etc. I like posting my writing here: it’s anonymous, so you can read it or not and I won’t know. And it motivates me to write more.

Anyhoo, Shawn has managed to read both my recent scripts while they were still being written. The current one includes him as a character, so that’ll be extra weird for him, I suspect. Whatever: I warned him.

Also, I find it amusing to watch a reader read about himself. Shawn makes funny faces and looked a little ill afterward.

Ha.

Recap of Last Night
My boobs looked amazing. I’m not used to my cleavage being the focal point of a night out, but yep. Spencer has resolved to be the last boy to touch my boobs before . . . I die? get some? I can’t remember what . . . but regardless it requires Spencer to squish a boob or two every day he sees me. This isn’t often noticed at the gay bar, but at Hush I think some people were paying attention.

Anyhoo. Spencer & Q & I went to Hush and watched boys “in shiny shirts,” as Shawn would say, dance to “trance” music which I don’t understand but whatever. We were trying to break out of our Prism pattern: Spencer even dressed fairly straight, except for the bracelet.

SPENCER: I’m just a straight boy who knows how to accessorize.

Oddly, Hush was a cash-only bar (I dunno if this is a regular thing for them, but it’s certainly inconvenient).

JESSIE: I don’t do cash.

So among the three of us we managed to pay for cover and one round of drinks. We were considering a bank run when I found a $20 bill on the floor. (Oh, yeah, I’m a Good Luck Charm. Have I mentioned that?) So we could afford a second round, which got us to Prism for our third (they take credit cards there — how innovative) and ultimately paid for four slices of crapPizza at the local pizza thing.

I wanted a BigMac & fries but whaddyaknow, McDonald’s is closed at 2am on Friday night. Some people have NO BUSINESS SENSE WHATSOEVER.

That’s my recap. I had a very good time, except for the end at Prism when Steve two-stepped me around to that “Take Me Home” song and I thought I was going to puke.

Other favourite ‘mos spotted last night: Charlie, Cameron, Duncan, Cam, Jamie . . .

Ass o’ Aloe Gel – Sunday, August 7, 2005 – 7:09 pm
Heaven = having a friend who loves you enough to rub aloe vera gel onto your burned ass.

In Other News
I hate CHUM TV. They closed down the block on Broad Street where Q lives, even going so far as to park two promo-vehicles directly in front of the garage doors. The irony is that they were having an “Ice Cream Block Party” to thank Victorianites for supporting their new station – “A” something – and yet they were so inconsiderate to the local residents.

This is exactly the sort of random inconvenience that sparks my Inappropriate Anger Management Issue. I didn’t hit anyone, lucky for them, but I did yell “you people suck” when disembarking from the taxi cab with my basket of laundry, and then when I took Celeste out for her pee I was extremely generous with her leash-length. Unfortunately, she didn’t bite anyone.

Then Q made me drink a cider –

QUINN: Have a cider.

– and I felt a little better. Then we ate a huge, greasy breakfast at Floyd’s Diner. Then I bought Aloe Vera Gel for my sunburn and Q kindly smeared it all over my backside and I fell asleep on his couch. By the time I woke up, the CHUM TV fuckers had packed up.

I think that means I won.

Satisfaction – Monday, August 8, 2005 – 9:04 pm
Today I worked for 7 hours, refilled my Happy Pills prescription, ate two proper meals and a plate of cheese & crackers & pickles, ran around the block, lifted my wee weight to make my biceps big (aka to get rid of wiggly arm fat), cleaned up after / fed / watered my bunnies, tidied my house, sat in the sunshine, did two Suduko puzzles, watched 1/2 hour of stand-up comedy, had three showers, drank one glass of cheap wine, and wrote one new scene (four pages of notes) for my new play.

It’s surprising that 1 hour of script writing is more satisfying than 7 hours of “day job” work. Once I’d typed in the new stuff and changed what I wanted to on the old stuff, I felt like I’d done SO MUCH — in a good, accomplished way, not in an exhausted way.

It doesn’t take a lot of time to write. I know so many people who “want” to write but they don’t. But 30 minutes of writing a day = 1 Simpsons’ rerun. And I feel smarter and more self-aware and more like I’m ACTIVE in my life after writing, whereas Simpsons, while funny, makes me sleepy and restless.

I guess I’m just lucky to have found that THING that makes me happy; but I take full credit for letting myself DO it.

Disclaimer
There comes a point where characters stray from the people they’re based on, so my disclaimer is that FROM TODAY ON none of you muses are allowed to be offended by what your characters do in my new play. Truth is being sacrificed to accomodate my plot. Thank you for not hating me 🙂

Death to A.E. Housman – Tuesday, August 9, 2005 – 3:52 pm
Due to CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS (aka Quinn) abusing the comments section (aka posting crappy pastoral poetry), I will no longer be providing a venue for you people to post your own shite. (See, Q? One bad apple ruins the whole freaking pie. Pooh.)

Meanwhile
I worked very long hours today, running around (that’s a metaphor — I just sat at my desk and stared at a computer screen for 8 hours) and getting all kinds of SuperHero Heather work done.

So I bought a green tea frappaccino at Starbucks as a lovepresent to myself, and drank it while walking home.

And NOW I plan to wear the most comfortable nammies I can find and drink some of my favourite bad wine while doing today’s Suduko puzzle from the Globe & Mail.

This is a mighty fine life.

P.S. Peter
The bunnies are shedding so I bought a can of crushed pineapple yesterday, which helps them digest all the hair they swallow while grooming. (Yes, pineapple — weird.) And just now I looked over at Peter to blow him a bunny kiss, and he was leaning over to eat from his pellet dish, with both front paws immersed in the pineapple bowl.

Sometimes I start to anthropromorphise my bunnies, and then they do something totally inane and they’re rodents all over again.

Newfound Freedom – Wednesday, August 10, 2005 – 3:12 pm
Maybe you’ve already discovered the joys of lounging around in your undies, but it’s a new pleasure of mine and I’m taking advantage of it at every opportunity.

I’ve always been a PJ gal, with an extensive collection of flannel and cotton pants, slippers, housecoats . . . but this summer is Summer of the Panties and so every day after work I throw down my professional (or not) work skirt and peel off my top and change into the softest, brightest undies I can find and a tanktop. Bra-free; socks optional.

Carrie on Sex and the City might have subconsciously led to my new “look” — I dunno. I love feeling pseudo-naked and strapless.

My Monthly Rut
I go through times of brilliance and others of rut, and I’m currently in a rut. It’ll pass, but while I’m mid-rut please overlook the dull writing and blah blah blah. It’s normal, and is complemented by a subsequent week or two of STUNNING CREATIVITY, which will no doubt astound you and empower me to finish my new play. Meanwhile, I’ll lounge in my underwear and drink too many White Russians.

Sleep + Writing = 50:50 Chance o’ Shite
I scribbled a new scene last night at about 11/12, but now I realise that it’s terrible so I won’t bother posting it. I hate it when that happens. I was all excited about having a new scene . . .

A Feminist’s Tragic Confession – Thursday, August 11, 2005
Ugh. While walking to work yesterday I analyzed why exactly I want my RockStar to show up at my door.

100% Honest Reasons:
1. I’m in need of some quality physical affection;
2. I’m bored.

Conclusion: these are selfish, dependent-on-man motivations. Therefore, they are sucky motivations, and not at all the sort of motivations that I want to have affecting my life.

The only alternative, though, is to come up with some way to inject excitement into my life BY MYSELF, with no penises required. Here are some ideas:
1. produce a play;
2. move;
3. travel;
4. learn something new;
5. find religion and/or join a sports team.

Personally, I’m fond of #1.

Confession to End All Confessions – Friday, August 12, 2005 – 5:08 pm
I am trying out online dating.

Oh yes.

I was inspired, in part, by Rowan’s roomie and non-romantic life partner Darcy, who has met his own Internet Love Goddess recently. It seems unfair to bitch and moan about there being no single, straight, quality men here when I haven’t TRULY tried everything, so here I am. Shopping for men online. Yep.

Last stop after this: speed-dating. Then I move to Vancouver.

In Your Future, I See . . .
Today I’m in theory spending quality time with Shawn, but after last time I refused to commit (or allow him to commit) to this plan so as to avoid disappointment and fury. So in theory I will get to talk about my play and love dramas and other smart and witty things after work, but not definitely.

This weekend Jessie & the Q and I are going to stalk sexy Dragon Boaters at the Dragon Boat Festival. It’s basically a sexy-people convention.

And then on Monday I’m having tea with Liv and her momma, who is visiting from Bella Coola. I LOVE having tea, especially with Liv. She now has a car, which is weird, and also she returned from her vacation with her family on Tuesday so maybe she’ll have exciting stories to tell re: bush parties and 4x4ing and drinking Kokanee.

I missed Liv.

Saturday With a Dissenter – August 13, 2005 – 10:48 pm
That’s the best adjective I can think of for Shawn. He’s argumentive and not overly optimistic, but in a pleasantly entertaining way.

Despite our time yesterday with me sloppily drunk, bemoaning my forced-celibacy, Shawn called to play this morning and I kidnapped him and we spent most of the daytime together. I later found out that his girlfriend was working today, so therefore I was Plan B, but I suppose that’s alright. If there had been any possible likelihood AT ALL that my RockStar would have shown up at my door today, I wouldn’t have been wandering around Victoria with someone else. Even someone as amusing & uber-smart as Shawn. (Opportunity for physical affection, and all.)

I’m sure that MANY of you are mocking, to some degree, my decision to do the Online Thing (or “OT”), and to you I say: Don’t fret, Shawn is taking care of all the necessary taunts.

Also, I bet most of you haven’t gone nearly as long as I have without cuddles, so screw you and your judgemental assumptions 🙂

Bonding With the Q
I stayed over at the Q’s last night. I laid down for a little nappy nap at 9 or 10pm, and then woke up and it was 1am and Celeste was spooning me. Q also woke up about then, and he read Dan Savage’s The Kid aloud for me until 3am or so, and then we went back to sleep.

It is a very funny book, by the way. It’s about Dan and his man Terry adopting their son. I recommend it. Not that I’m actually READING it or anything; I don’t do that anymore. (Moment of grief for my wasted English Lit degree . . .)

Dinner
I feel the need to mention that I was craving Thrifty’s seven-layer bean dip tonight. Q and I went to Safeway and I bought refried beans and then I made my own version, which has only four layers (beans, sour cream, salsa and chedder cheese) and now I’m wondering what the other 3 layers are supposed to be. We ate it with chips & corn on the cob, and the meal as a whole was oddly satisfying.

OT Update
I have about five new boyfriends. I know some of their names. Maybe.

My OT criteria include:
– no one who uses the word “ladies,” as in: “Hey, ladies”;
– no one who claims to enjoy reading but who can’t spell very simple words;
– no one who writes “lol” or “lmao” (MSN and other Instant Messaging programs have destroyed the literacy AND common sense of my generation);
– no one who even sort of maybe kind of seems gay. I’ve been down that road too many times, and I am NOT tempting any god who thinks it’s funny to mess with me like that. Sly bastard.

Kevin Spacey – Sunday, August 14, 2005 – 4:06 pm
I was watching American Beauty until Q and Celeste took me to Beaver Lake for the afternoon. I’ve been waiting to be in the right mood for American Beauty and this must be it, because I’m really loving it, even more than the first time (when I saw it in the theatre amidst excessive hype).

Beaver Lake is, surprisingly, a good beach – nice sand, decent trails from one body o’ water to the next, dog areas, even a token hottie over at the Elk Lake side. Q approved of the water, and I liked its minimal hootchie population & dog-friendliness. It was a great intermission: now, back to our movie . . .

And So It Begins – August 14, 2005 – 7:12 pm
I had my first phone conversation with an Online Guy (“OG”) tonight. So awkward. He seems decent enough, which is why I gave him my phone number in the first place. He’s short: 5’11” or something. I should know better than to waste a short man’s time. But he’s an artist and a “finishing contractor/carpenter” and he has nice eyebrows, so I’m trying to be openminded. (Really, he has no chance. It’s just kind of fun to think of flirty things to say.)

Things I Realised When Speaking to a Stranger:

I don’t make a lot of sense.
I’m a lot funnier than most people think I am.
I don’t mumble: other people just don’t hear right.
I hate the non-word “chillaxin’.” Yes, this OG actually said “chillaxin’,” and in a sentence, e.g.: “Tonight I’m just chillaxin’.” I can’t have children with someone who says “chillaxin’.”

Moment of Self-Pity & the Temptations of Censorship
I’m terribly tempted to NOT mention this whole online thing on this site. However, I have resolved to tell the whole truth (when it’s about me) and screw the consequential embarassment, so you will get the stories I have to tell, in all their uncomfortable detail.

You see? I’m doing this for YOU people. It’s all about YOU. I’m just a martyr, being tormented daily for the amusement of all you PLACID, COUPLED-UP wankers who like to see me squirm.

I’m like a Dating Jesus.

Quote of the Weekend – Monday, August 15, 2005 – 6:38 pm
SHAWN: I would take up drug-dealing, but I’m not nearly social enough.

“Babies = Parasites”
I had an utterly misguided conversation with my Dadders last night. I somehow, for some reason, starting talking about The Meaning of Life, while Dad started to reassure me that love solves everything and that Fate + Patience brings love.

What I was TRYING (and failing) to say is that: I need to be writing something, otherwise I have no purpose. It’s not a bad thing. This doesn’t cause me stress. It gives me direction and an inexpressible (is that a word?) feeling of accomplishment. Anxieties re: love, physical affection, and so on are temporary and biological and NOT important to me in the Greater Scheme of Things.

But it’s difficult to find the right words to say: “Yes, I understand that having babies is satisfying, but really that’s just another parasite you’ve created to feed on and ultimately destroy our world.” Not really the sort of thing you tell your parent, or a soon-to-be-grandfather.

Meanwhile, Chatting With Momma
Mom commented on the ironic juxtaposition (I’m paraphrasing) of last week’s “Feminist Statement Re: Not Needing A Man” vs. the next day’s “Online Shopping For Men.” This is ENTIRELY the point. It’s this contradiction that is keeping me awake at night and making me stir crazy. How can I be an independent woman if I want love? But I want love. But I’m an independent woman. So I will write a love story. And it will be feminist. But it’s a love story. But I’m a feminist. Feminists can be in love. How can a feminist be in love? What does that kind of love look like? Who would a feminist love? Who do I love?

Blah blah blah.

About That Love Story
I wrote a lot more last night. I’ll post it later today.

AGHHGHGHGHGHG – Tuesday, August 16, 2005 – 8:23 pm
Ahem.

Beaver Lake & Q’s Magnificence
The Q, Celeste and I went to Beaver/Elk Lake this afternoon. Q ran 10 KILOMETRES (yes, ten!!!!) around the lakes and Celeste & I played in a field and ogled hot runner boys.

It’s windy today and not the usual hot&humid sunny it’s been lately. Maybe it’s the wild weather or a new moon or something, but my restlessness is as restless as ever.

I suppose it might be the lack of exercise. I walk to/from work and at most every opportunity, but I haven’t run around the block for weeks. That might be worth trying.

First, though, I need to eat something yummy.

Crazy Deal At Munro’s Book Store
Liv told me about this: Munro’s is currently selling boxsets of the Gryphon & Sabine books — the ones with envelopes and you take out the letters to read their correspondence. Munro’s is selling them not for $30-$40 per book, which is usual, but . . . $15 for the set!!!! Ohmigod it’s craziness. I bought two sets, because I like symmetry and I can’t not exploit this insane deal.

Sometimes I think Jim Munro is losing it. He once had Michael Ondaatje’s Handwriting in softcover for $3.99.

Oh, and also, when I told Shawn about this amazing deal (he’s on my list of those to notify in the event of Crazy, Act Now! Book Sales) he had no idea what I was talking about. So clearly it’s all a scam and he doesn’t have an MA in English Lit, and he probably only “reads” girly mags, and his big words are just random sounds tossed together that I manage to interpret as vocabulary.

What I’m Willing to Stick In My Belly – Wednesday, August 17, 2005 – 4:06 pm
It all began a year or so ago when I went into the tattoo & piercing shop in Market Square with Matte. I saw a belly-barbell with a bright yellow bead at the bottom, and if you looked REALLY closely you could read, in black capital letters: FUCK YOU.

So of course I decided to pierce my belly button.

However, when they pierce it they use a hoop of metal, so I couldn’t get the Fuck You barbell right away; I’d have to wait 6 months to a year for the piercing to heal, and then I could buy it in my size (piercings come in sizes!).

SOOOO a few weeks/months ago I went into The Patch because I wanted to order this same barbell, and I love The Patch so I thought I could support them by purchasing it through them. However, Chris the owner refuses to stock “offensive” jewellery so they said they’d order it specially for me.

This week they called and said it was in, and so I went by after work and IT’S THE WRONG BARBELL.

It says, in white bubble letters: FUCK U. I’m a writer; I can’t wear something that isn’t a proper word.

I went to the Market Square store, but they don’t stock that company’s products anymore. And then I went to Urge, where they’d offered to insert the new piercing for me, and they don’t stock the barbell, so I was sad.

Then they offered to buy the Fuck U barbell from me, to make me feel better, and this was very nice of them since I simply could NOT bear to wear it.

So I still have my ring piercing and no Fuck You barbell. I’m relunctant to return to The Patch and ask them to order another one — they went through so much to get me the first version — but that’s my only option at this time. At least they’re getting $10 per piercing for their troubles.

Pleasant Distractions
Also, Shawn has a new job and he emailed me 1,000 times today because he’s training and therefore bored. I love having a new distraction.

Crisis @ Work
Oh, and when I got to work this morning some of the ceiling panels had collapsed (or were about to) because of the rain last night and inadequate irrigation systems.

My first instinct was to sit and watch everything short-circuit and collapse, but then I thought: “What would a responsible employee do in this situation?” so instead I put buckets under the drips, unplugged the electrical stuff, and called maintenance.

Bonding With the Kids – Thursday, August 18, 2005 – 10:12 pm
Jessie & I were supposed to drink martinis and eat steak at Syn with Liv tonight, but she’s hungover from last night so instead we bonded with Shawn.

Also, I got furiously ill IMMEDIATELY after eating my last bite of steak and I ran to the washroom and puked.

I have no idea why: Jessie theorizes food poisoning. I suspect work stress and the bizarre situation of sitting directly across the room from a guy I once dated (named “Vitto”).

Whatever. After puking like a drunken hootchie I felt completely better, and Jessie & Shawn and I walked to my house and they drank rum and I finished off my bottle of $4.99 Boone’s Sangria and Jessie and Shawn kept talking about sex and I just tried to remember what that whole “sex” thing is. Insensitive bastards.

It was LOTS of fun to see two people I love/like bond.

Now there’s a huge fucking moth beating itself against my window (due to my desk light) so I’ll shut it off and go to bed.

I love the people in my life.

Stood-Up By a Horny Rabbit – Friday, August 19/05 – 10:15 pm
Peter was all gushy mushy this morning, following me around the apt while I got dressed and licking my slippers. So I gave him some quickie cuddles and promised that I’d stay in tonight and we could snuggle on the couch until he was sated.

I even bought parsley.

But he has stood me up: he’s been hiding under the furniture and lounging in his litterbox.

Update on the Boob Burn
Earlier this week my boobs, burned a la Wreck Beach a few weekends ago, started peeling. It was so cool.

And in Other News
Now when I find a letter in my mailbox from my RockStar I get nervous, because WAY too often the contents are sad, confusing, or disconcerting. Today he has asked for my assistance in getting him published in some literary journals (I offered to help a while back). I love the idea of helping people do stuff that I’m (not really) knowledgeable about; I’m a true eldest child. But I’m also shocked and appalled (on a regular basis these days) by just how utterly Ryan is immersed in his own head. I suppose it’s understandable to some extent, what with the craziness and all, and also he’s 23 and that’s fairly normal for 23 year old males, especially artsy ones.

But still! I’ve had a long, stressful week at work; I’ve been combating sexual frustration since our last cuddle THREE MONTHS AGO; and I’m completely lost as to whether I’ll ever even see my RockStar again in non-letter form.

I’d really appreciate some empathy.

Regardless, I consider it a PURPOSE IN LIFE to help others get on the paths they are MEANT to walk, and Ryan is an amazing writer. So for now I’m an editor/agent instead of a love interest.

I’m taking what I can get.

Reading About John Nash – Saturday, August 20/05 – 7:43 pm
(Some women read self-help books to understand the men they love; I read the biography of a schitzophrenic mathematician. Anyhoo . . . )

Here’s a neat part that summarises WAY too many conversations I’ve had (or tried to have) recently with my family & friends:

Some creative people . . . of predominately schizoid or depressive temperaments . . . use their creative capacities in a defensive way. If creative work protects a man [OR WOMAN] from mental illness, it is small wonder that he [OR SHE] pursues it with avidity. The schizoid state . . . is characterized by a sense of meaninglessness and futility. For most people, interaction with others provides most of what they require to find meaning and significance in life. For the schizoid person, however, this is not the case. Creative activity is a particularly apt way to express himself [OR HERSELF] . . . the activity is solitary . . . but the ability to create and the productions which result from such ability are generally regarded as possessing value by our society.

– Anthony Storr, The Dynamics of Creation, 1972, via Sylvia Nasar’s A Beautiful Mind, pages 15-6.

Caramel’s Tumour
My token house chore of the day was to clean up the bunnies’ porch and (if I could catch them) clip their nails.

I couldn’t get Seamus, but while I was hunting Caramel I noticed that she had a huge funky chunky dark thing attached to her, right by her back left leg.

(Moment of panic re: do I take her to the vet if it’s a tumour??? I’m a bad bunny mommy — should have noticed this sooner . . . hey, that rhymed . . .)

So I eventually caught her, and investigated with great trepidation, and discovered that the Thing, which was the size of a big cherry tomato, was a ball of poop that had dried and attached itself to her fur.

Ew. And, whew.

And THEN I had to cut it off, which was scary because bunnies bleed very easily if they get any sort of cut and that’s dangerous. But there was a little less than a centimetre of fur between skin & shit, so everything went well in the end.

And I can only assume that Caramel now loves me, since bunnies are so finicky about grooming & personal hygeine, and that ball of shit must have tormented her.

CARAMEL: Just chew the goddamn thing off, Seamus!

SEAMUS: I’m scared of it.

Owwie – Sunday, August 21/05 – 10:04 am
(self-pitying whimper . . .)

My eye hurts. It started yesterday, and now REALLY hurts today — well, actually, not “hurts” persay but rather feels stiff and dried-out and otherwise “off.” I checked it out in the mirror and it looks like I’ve had a mini-stroke (the paralysis kind), because my left eyelid is pink and crooked and . . . puffy? I don’t know. And it sort of scratches when I blink. (Another whimper.)

So today’s plan includes a trip to my doctor.

I don’t normally get eye problems, aside from the whole “I’m blind without corrective eyewear” thing. And considering that my day job consists entirely of LOOKING AT STUFF, including eye-unfriendly computer monitors, I’m hoping to get this fixed today.

Ow.

UPDATE, Thanks to the B.C. HealthGuide
I think I have pink eye.

UPDATE, Thanks to the Walk-In Clinic – 12:37 pm
I don’t have pink eye.

HEATHER to DOCTOR: What’s wrong with me????

DOCTOR (points to my file): Aside from the psychiatric disorders?

HEATHER: No fair! I’m not a hypochondriac!

Apparently I have an “irritated eye” caused by allergies/crap-in-the-eye/whatever. So the doctor gave me a prescription for $37 eye drops, and I got it filled at London Drugs and eyedropped my achy eye in the sunglasses section.

The worst part of the whole experience is that I have to wear my glasses instead of contacts (for obvious reasons) and my glasses are a stronger prescription so now I can see all the imperfections in my skin, random eyebrow hairs, et cetera. I prefer blind ignorance.

Meeting Virtual Men – Monday, August 22/05 – 6:19 pm
I met my first online boy today. His name is Yaseem and he has the prettiest eyes in the world. He is not tall enough for me — I knew any potential romance was doomed as soon as he got off his motorbike — but he’s funny funny funny and we have good talks.

Yaseem writes occassionally for Maxim Magazine — or, at least, he has business cards with their logo (isn’t meeting new people fun?). It makes me happy when people manage to write, despite all the shit and pro-business, pro-boring attitudes in the world. Pro-boring. I like that word. Proboring.

Been There, Done That
Spotted another tall, sexy scruffy man today while walking back from lunch. It was, of course, another of my ex-boyfriends: Rob Parker, aka SuperRob, aka Clifford. He called me “H-Bomb.” Best nickname ever. Now Rob looks like a mountain man, beard and all. I love love love seeing beautiful men and knowing that they once loved me, made me dinner, went crazy for some particular perfume . . .

When Is a Stye Not a Stye?
My eye was even worse this morning so I went to a walk-in optometrist and she said I have a stye. Ew.

Also, since my stye is on my eyelid (rather than in an eyelash follicle), it’s extra awful and will take longer to heal.

The Life Aquatic – Tuesday, August 23/05 – 9:22 pm
This is, I think, my favourite Bill Murrary movie ever. And I love the combination of him and whatsername, who plays his wife in this one, and plays Momma Tennanbaum in the Royal Tennanbaums. They work well together. (Is she the same one who was Cruella Deville?????? I’m terrible with movie names.)

I also rented Napoleon Dynamite and Robin William’s live stand-up DVD (I saw that years ago, back when it was on VHS, and literally rolled on the couch with laughter). Tomorrow I intend to stay up past my regular bedtime so that I can go to the Fringe Preview Night, so I plan to cuddle with Celeste, nap, and watch movies to keep me awake at Quinn’s.

Also, I ran into Andrew after his tech rehearsal for Scrupulosity, and I am VERY excited about his play on Thursday.

I love the Fringe festival. I love being involved with theatre people.

CBC Unplugged
HA! CBC’s talent, currently locked out, have started their own rebel broadcast!

Feeling Special – Thursday, August 25/05 – 12:18 am
I went to the Fringe Theatre Festival’s Preview Night tonight. Everyone I usually recruit as arm candy turned me down, so I went alone and felt super brave.

Thanks to Atomic Vaudeville and my participation in the Fringe last year, I knew a lot of the people there tonight: it felt like a small town Academy Awards. But there weren’t any awards, just alcohol and mini-theatre performances.

Also, I talked to some of my favourites about making my new scripts into play productions: Britt Small, the Best Little Director and Momma of Atomic Vaudeville, aka Jenna Bush; and Carolyn Birch, my tap-dancing dishwasher from last year’s The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate and a Bride With BackFat in this year’s Last One to the Altar. Hopefully I’ll have another play on stage before this time next year!

If I ever figure out how to finish BitterScripts then I’d like to do that one, since I already know who I’d want to play some of the characters (e.g. Rod Peter Jr. as Tim) . . .

Heather, The Legend
I give money to performers to support their shows, and as a result Carolyn told me that there is a subculture of gossip re: what I do for a living. Apparently the top theory is that I breed rabbits.

HA!

I told her that I write for the gov’t.

CAROLYN: So it’s guilt money.

And maybe it is.

Frightening Seniors & Other Hobbies
Gramma Walker showed my site to a friend and she was “shocked.” Imagine how much fun this will be once I’ve written my inevitable novel, and all our Irish relatives are reading it for their book clubs, and Mom’s stocking library shelves with copies, and I’m sending them out as Christmas/Birthday/everything gifts. Because I can practically guarantee that there will be sex, swear words, and an excess of uncomfortable personal details.

I’m really glad that I’m the writer, and can control what gets said about me in my plays. You people must get pretty nervous 🙂

4 Plays in 2 Days – Friday, August 26/05
Last night Jessie & I saw CockTales in its revised version. I especially loved the commercial bits — SoftPole for adolescent boys who can’t keep it down . . . ha!

Then we ate sushi faster than anyone should ever eat sushi, and made it back to see Andrew Bailey’s Scrupulosity with Shawn/Sean and Quinn. Jessie said later that the show was painful in parts, because it was so personal, and I agree. I think it’s a good thing, though, to have the courage to talk about that sort of shit, and also to be able to create a play that talks about it without sounding like a whiny therapy session. I LOVED some bits, like at the start when Andrew keeps washing his hands, because everyone recognizes that as a stereotypical OCD issue, and so he could then go on and talk about Satan and praying and being a Good Person and it set up the audience to understand, ultimately, that his experience with Good and Evil was another sort of compulsive behaviour. It’s the quieter kind of OCD.

Anyhoo, I’d STRONGLY recommend both CockTales and Scrupulosity to anyone who can attend Victoria’s Fringe plays this year. CockTales feels a little false, like Mike and Rod are just acting out the stereotypes of Men, but maybe that’s because they’re both actors and artsy and so it’s difficult for me to see them as insensitive, flatulating brutes.

Tonight Liv and Jessie and I are seeing two plays (+ martinis + food), and I’ll probably be up late again. I will report back when able.

Shit vs. Shazaam – Saturday, August 27/05 – 8:29 am
Jessie, Liv and I saw two plays last night. Marcella was REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD; Cannibal! the Musical was REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD.

I’ve already written my glowing review (see “Craig Online”) of Cannibal, but now I don’t know what to do re: Marcella. I’m not very comfortable with being cruelly vicious, and this disaster of a Fringe performance deserves cruel viciousness. To be fair, I suspect that the actress was ill/sleep-deprived/on drugs. She seemed to know, to some extent, how “stale” the show was. But then I’d start to feel sympathetic, and she’d stumble through another awkward “improv” bit (none of which were at all even sort of funny) or turn back to her notes to check what she was supposed to do next (really), and I’d think, Why don’t you just admit that something’s off tonight, give us our money back, and call it a show? But no, the fairly well-sized audience sat through until the end (unless anyone in the back left — I stayed because I was in the third row and too visible to sneak away).

Love @ The Fringe Festival
Yes, apparently there are still some undiscovered hotties in Victoria. Most of them ARE coupled-up already, judging by the rampant handholding last night, but there were at least four men in the audience last night (and two on stage!) that I would be interested in. I was only brave enough to talk to one, though, and I think that’s because he’s probably about 18 years old. Those young ones are so user-friendly! My pick-up line was as follows:

HEATHER: Aren’t you in a Fringe play?

Yes, I’m so smooth. So original. Eventually I felt transparent and left, but he kept talking (not to himself) so I turned back and trekked on for a few more minutes.

HEATHER: Maybe I’ll see you at another show.

Wink wink. Whatever.

Also, I told Carolyn Birch (aka Dancing Dishwasher, aka Bride With BackFat — see above) about my . . . situation . . . and she’s already working on recruiting some action. Including one of the hotties from Cannibal.

Ways In Which I Embarrassed Liv & Jessie Last Night
I tend to cause polite but awkward scenes. I promised Liv & Jessie that I wouldn’t embarrass them; here’s how I failed:

At the restuarant: counselled the manager (WHOM I KNOW, SORT OF) re: nacho recipes for his new menu.

At Cannibal: asked Victor (A SWEETHEART ‘MO & ACTOR I MET THAT NIGHT) to smush down his puffy blond curls because they were blocking Liv’s view of the stage.

Also, I get giddy around theatre people because I find them smart and exciting and quick, and I’m assuming that at some point I made L&J feel awkward about my groupie-ness.

But Whatever
I enjoyed seeing an extremely bad and an extremely good performance. Now that either end of the spectrum has been defined, I can better-understand the other Fringe plays I’ll see this week.

Also, I’m making a lot of quality connections that will help with my subsequent performances.

Men Who Talk Too Much – Sunday, August 28/05 – 12:03 am
Ugh.

I went to three plays today:
Wodysk or something: Victor was fucking brilliant; felt like the Rocky Horror Picture Show; went on a bit too long; I recommend it. Live band, so that’s neato.

A Fear of Going Down: unnecessary sexual innuendo; characters are ever-so-subtly named Adam, Lilith, and Dante; the actor playing the breeder-fiancee was clearly gay (therefore, it was hard to believe their breeder relationship). Whatever.

Sparkle Bunny, the Last Raver Dancing: not too deep but a well-spent 45 minutes. Excellent actress.

Between each performance I had an hour or more of conversation + a meal with a straight man. Firstly, Rod Peter Jr, of whom I am a great fan (Atomic Vaudeville, CockTales, etc., the guy I made out with on stage for their Spiderman skit). He’s 20 and maybe he was nervous because we haven’t talked properly before, but holy christ he would not shut up. I was done my burger & fries and he’d barely begun to dissect his chicken strips. (Because he was talking so much — get it?) Topics: a run-down of every skit he’s ever done, reasons why certain changes were made to each skit, thoughts on acting technique, blah blah blah.

Then I met up with Chris, one of only two men I was at all interested in via my ever-embarrassing online-dating phase. He had pretty dimples but again, fucking fuckity fuck, please shut up. Topic: his thoughts and experiences re: anything that occurred to him. He also was not afraid to interupt my infamous anecdotes.

For example:

HEATHER: My wisdom teeth are growing in.

CHRIS: I had my first one pulled in China, and the other three as soon as I got home. (Then proceeds to narrate for 30 minutes on hospital cleanliness, cultural friendliness, the benefits of 24 hour pharmacies, the chatty surgeons who operated on him, the kind of anaesthetic they used and its side-effects, reasons why wisdom teeth might become an “issue,” reasons why they might not, as well as the wisdom tooth escapades of his friends, family, and aquaintances.)

Also, during his monologues Chris referred to “my girlfriend at the time,” “my first date with this girl,” and various sorts of significant-other type scenarios at LEAST 20 times. I’m a fairly openminded gal when it comes to personal history/baggage (having dated more than one gay man myself), but THIS IS JUST NOT A GOOD THING TO DO.

First thought: ew, you’re dirty.
Second thought: ew, you’re trying to show me that other women have loved you and can love you. “They’ll vouch for me!” How misguided and ignorant! You clearly don’t understand anything about dating etiquette.
Third thought: hopefully he thinks he’s hot stuff so he won’t be sad when we never speak ever ever again. I hate making people sad.

In Other News
Tomorrow I have two or three more plays to see!!! Yay!!!!!!!!

Slow Motion Slap – Sunday, August 28/05 – 8:27 pm
Cheek exposed: Heather and Shawn plan to attend the 6pm performance of Potentilla, the play Heather is MOST excited to see because it’s this year’s winner of the Intrepid Petri Dish Award.

Hand up: Shawn asks if Heather’d mind if he brought his girlfriend along.

HEATHER: I thought you liked to keep your friends and girlfriend separate?

SHAWN: I do, but girlfriends and girl friends have to meet eventually.

Hand meets Cheek: Shawn and his girlfriend decide they don’t feel like going out, so Shawn calls Heather at 5pm and leaves a message.

FUCKER FUCKER FUCKER. I’m done. And Shawn owes me $8 for his ticket.

Potentilla
It was a great show. Probably one of the only dramas in the Festival . . . afterwards, the guy actor and Meg said the laughter-response from the audience was bizarre each time, because we’d all become “fringified” and there were so many comedies this year that we thought we were supposed to laugh.

Also, pre-show Rod and I were comparing thoughts on Saucy Fops: The Musical and decided that a great theme for Atomic Vaudeville would be Tom Cruise. They could spoof Magnolia’s “Respect the Cock” bit, with Tom and his ponytail; Nicole Kidman & Tom’s awkward sex scene in Eyes Wide Shut; Katie Holmes, the Scientology thing, the ambiguous sexuality thing, Top Gun, the dance scene from Risky Business . . . .

Day of Non-Fringe – Monday, August 29/05 – 7:58 pm
Today I hate people. I didn’t go to the shows I’d planned on — instead, I had a nappy nap at Q’s after work with Celeste (she had bad dog breath). When Q came home we ordered Chinese food and watched Growing Up Gotti.

I’m listening to some songs I haven’t heard in awhile — I’ve been devoted to Ani DiFranco and Eminem for a very long time. The best voices ever are those of Serena Ryder and Joel Kroeker. In heaven, they will perform together. For now, I will play their songs interchangeably while lolling in a hot bath.

Work Stuff
I have a ridiculous number of vacation and sick days this year. I didn’t think I qualified for vacation days in 2004, since I was technically “on probation,” but apparently I did because I have 50 unused hours (=7 work days) of vacation leftover from 2004, plus 105 hours (=15 work days) of vacation for 2005. I wish I knew what to do with all that time . . . I’d like an ESCAPE to shake things up, but I don’t know where I want to go, or whom with (if anyone), or what I want to do.

What seems most likely (and tempting) is some sort of writing vacation. I wouldn’t have to go anywhere, but I could.

The problem with that is that I DON’T WRITE when that’s all I have to do. A full-time job is ideal because it makes me value my free time more, so I actually do use it to write, and also because it leads to ideas to write about. If I took a week or three off to sit around and write, I wouldn’t get anything done.

Jessie suggested I go to Australia and fall in love with tall blonde men. Q suggested I take the vacation time in pay instead, and then use that $$ for Greece next year, or my student loans, or a nestegg for a house.

But it seems silly to be at work when I’d get paid not to.

This is an excellent “problem” to have . . .

Oops – Tuesday, August 30/05 – 9:09 pm
When the Q dropped me off at home today he asked me to check and see when the license plates expire, and it was sort of dark out so I wasn’t sure that I was reading it correctly, but I was: July 7/05. So this means that both Q and I have been driving an uninsured vehicle around the city for almost two months. And not only Victoria — we took the car to Vancouver last month.

moment of nausea . . .

Moving the Q
I helped Q pack up for his move into his Owned Home. We’ve packed up his shit a thousand times in the last 6 years . . . I have developed special packing techniques for some of his possessions, like the 5-inch wooden woodpecker with the pointy beak that looks fragile but which HAS NOT YET BEEN BROKEN despite innumerable moves because I am so attentive.

Whiny Stuff
The left side of my mouth is achy today, due (most likely) to the as-yet-unborn wisdom teeth. I hope it goes away by tomorrow, or else I’ll have to swish that nasty warm salt water concoction that the dentist prescribed. Or worse, have surgery.

Crazy About the Bling
A big trigger for my anxiety has always been my bank balance, mainly because I’ve been through times when it was negative or very very very low. I usually just don’t look at the balance after withdrawing/depositing, because I feel panicky regardless of my financial situation. But this summer I found a great way to stave off stress: I stopped paying my bills. As a result, my balance was usually quite high, and it made me feel happy to see all those digits on the bank receipt. But the time has come to BE RESPONSIBLE again, so I paid off a few of the bills today (cell phone and internet). The only predictable bills I HAVE to pay off in a timely fashion (for the sake of my credit rating) are my student loans and credit cards, and rent so that I have somewhere to live. It was surprisingly liberating to let the rest slide . . . only a few hundred dollars per month, but still.

Restless in Rockland
I still feel antsy. Yesterday I considered changing the layout of my apartment . . . today I intentionally walked down a sketchy street in the hope that someone would try to attack me and then I could justifiably beat the shit out of them. I’ve been researching different vacations — Contiki tours to Greece, Goddess spa retreats to Salt Spring Island . . . and it’s raining again here in Victoria. Goddammit. If this is the end of summer (and I think it is) I will have to run away for a week in the winter to somewhere very hot and sunny. I’m solar-powered; Victoria’s weather cycles are unacceptable.

Little Spitfire

July 2005

July 1, 2005 Heather Leave a comment

Canada Day!! – Friday, July 1, 2005 – 11:20 am

And it’s also Pride in Victoria this weekend, so there are SO MANY adventure-potentials!! Celeste was strangely giddy last night at Q’s, so we’ll have to take her a for a good long walk today.

And I still haven’t heard from Shawn, so I’m VERY concerned and contemplating calling the police. Maybe I can get the Q to do a quick drive-by so we can see if he’s home. The weirdest thing about Shawn’s disappearance is that I have no idea who to call. I don’t know his family, and I don’t know Savannah’s phone nymber, so I can’t confirm his OK-ness with anyone else. I might be the only one who knows he’s AWOL, and therefore it’s my responsiblity to track him down!

Cleaning House
My other commitments for today are to take out the garbage (which I hate doing – I’m a germaphobe) and checking on the bunnies. They probably need more water – it was hot out yesterday. And Peter’s litter box has lost its clean-hay-scent.

Health Status
I feel so much better today.

Shawn of the Dead – Saturday, July 2, 2005 – 12:30 pm
Shawn isn’t dead!!! YAY!!! He resurrected after a few panicky phone calls on my part. And one house-visit that found NO blood-trail, body parts, et cetera. Apparently he does go AWOL sometimes. Good to know.

Canada Day Festivities
Q & Celeste & I attended the Drag Queen Baseball Game over in Vic West, and ran into some of our ‘mos: Rich, Cam, and so on. We ate hot dogs and then left. It was crazy — Shawanna Millionaire, the drag queen who (we’d heard) skipped town last summer after defrauding some loving ‘mos of their cash, was there in full wigged glory, doing backflips and cartwheels from base to base. It was too cold, though, so we went to Q’s for a nappy nap.

And then Luke came by and we drove up to see Q’s new home, and then we stopped by Michael’s house and the boys drank rum & sprites, but I didn’t because I’d decided to abstain from alcohol while tattooed. (. . .) And Celeste shat on Michael’s lawn.

Also, while at Michael’s, Shawn called to tell me he was alive and reading a new book. Yay! On the way downtown for dinner we kidnapped him and tried out the food at the Garlic Rose on Wharf, and they were serving a special 1L “boot” of beer, but no one at our table had that. It was odd to have two redheads with us, when normally we have none.

After dinner Q & Luke went to some house party at the Railyards and Shawn & I talked and watched CityTV porn until 3am. When the fireworks came on, we climbed the roof at Q’s and watched all the drunk twinkies milling about on Broad Street, and the fireworks were pretty. Some new fangled ones, I think, with hearts & circles.

Anyhoo, I had a great Canada Day night and I’m really glad Shawn isn’t dead because he’s super.

Oh, and the Laundry
I did all my laundry yesterday at Q’s, and I am SO PLEASED to have a full closet of tubetops & other non-shoulder-rubbing shirts. My tattoo doesn’t hurt at all, and it looks fine, but I’m determined to be a good tattooee and do everything like my tattooer said re: healing.

Dancing Queen – Sunday, July 3, 2005 – 8:58 am
We went to Prism last night, and it was the first time ever I’ve seen a line-up there. Lucky for us, Q’s Rotary & Freemason (shh!) connections tend to negate any “waiting in line” nonsense.

“We,” in this case, include Luke, Spencer, Christine, the Q, and a new boy named “Steve with an E” (??) who apparently came out VERY recently. And I could tell. He was hitting on every boy in sight, and still knew how to dance with a woman. Polka steps, no less.

Also, we saw Cameron (topless, with a few other topless hotties) and Kent, which was funny. I got to introduce him to my boyz and some of the new ones I’d met that night. NEVER underestimate the value of a homo honey. Thank you very much.

The Porch
I finally got around to checking up on the bunnies outside. I’m such a neglectful bunny mom. Anyhoo, I went out and Seamus & Caramel were sitting side by side on the couch, looking like aged rabbits due to excessive seasonal shedding. Caramel escaped, but Seamus (who still, I think retains some memory of being a passive house rabbit) let me pull off some of the fluff. I watered them and swept up a bit, and I didn’t see any flies, which have worried me due to their potential bunny-harming faculties. I bought two fly traps yesterday at Home Depot, and I’m excited about them except that I’m supposed to use raw, rotting meat as bait and that’s fucking disgusting. Also, I have no raw meat in this apt. Also, the smell of raw, rotting meat might displease my bunnies. Sensitive vegans that they are.

Annie Hall
Apparently this is the film that made Woody Allen good. It was all downhill thereafter. I watched the first half yesterday and I love it, but I can see that his neurotic persona is only likeable because it’s new (to the audience at the time) and subsequent neurotic Woody Allens would lead to hatred and scorn. Also, the female-male relationships are fascinating — power imbalances, a rapport that I would see as patronising and emotionally crippling.

Pictures & A Sun Burn – Sunday, July 3, 2005 – 11:21 pm
Have a look at the “pictures” page for a whole bunch of stuff from last weekend . . .

Also, here’s a mouse that Shawn & I saw while GSing a while back.

[2017 note: I can’t find these photos so you’ll just have to imagine them.]

This is a crow, waiting for us to leave so it can eat the mouse.

And here’s Q, multitasking.

[Imagine a photo of Q holding a phone to each ear.]

About the sun burn — I have one. On my nose.

Odd Sleep Patterns – Monday, July 4, 2005 – 10:06 pm
I’ve been coming home, eating, and then sleeping for HOURS, and then I wake up at 8 or 9 pm. Mathematically this should be fine, but I was tired today, so we’ll see how tomorrow is.

Liv’s Hot Young Dentist
After work today I went to the dentist to escort Liv home, post-wisdom-teeth-extraction. She was anaestheticised so I held her arm on the stairs and kept her from wandering into traffic. Brave Liv.

If I have to get my wisdom teeth out, I want to keep the teeth. AND I will warn the dentist not to say “blood clots” to me when I am nauseous, because I might puke. Also, I will “eat” chocolate Boost and pudding.

A Strange Sort of Being Single
I really like this. I get to spend time with a sexy, smart straight man who does his own thing, and I get cuddles and unconditional love from the Q and my ‘mos, and I have two great girl friends to buy things and drink martinis with. Also, I spend my time doing EXACTLY what I want, whether it’s napping or dishes or running or being friendly. The only thing lacking is, of course, sexual gratification, but for now this is pretty damn fine.

Adventures in Budgeting – Tuesday, July 5, 2005
I should know better than to attempt this “budget” thing. Every time I try it, something bizarre happens — last time, a student loan debt appeared out of nowhere and threw me for a $700 loop. Whatever. I can’t live in fear of jinxing my bank balance.

So I figured it out, and I pay $836/month in student loan debt. Yiminy! Yes, it was worth it, but gees, that’s a lot of money. That’s 200 cheap Syn martinis (not including tip or appies). Then I owe a very reasonable $550/month for rent, and this leaves me with a little less than 2 weeks’ pay for food and beverages and bunny hay. Thank god I get paid well.

Bunny Guilt
I peeked in on S&C early this morning and Seamus was sitting on his back feet, which is weird because normally they’re on all fours. So I went out to check on the wee fella, and his front nails were RIDICULOUSLY long, each one practically an inch of curling claw. I felt awful. So I clipped them asap, which of course upset him, but I waited around until he unfroze and started cleaning his paws, so (hopefully) no tramautic side effects. Caramel is probably equally savage, but I needed her to be calm for Seamus so I’m waiting until later today to pedicure her.

Ironically, I refuse to give up my bunnies (S&C) to another home because I know they won’t have it as good anywhere else. They get so much freedom and care from me that a more sheltered life (in a cage — ew!!) would be worse than the occassional broken nail. If I ever thought I’d found a home that would let them be proper house rabbits, I’d let them go, but I doubt that would happen. People are generally rabbit-stupid.

Movies I Wanna See – Tuesday, July 5, 2005 – 8:27 pm
Mr. & Mrs. Smith
Batman Begins
Fantastic Four
Madagascar
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, with Johnny Depp!!!!!

Movie I Just Saw
Charlie’s Angels, for the first time with sound. I’ve only ever seen it on an airplane, without earphones. Cameron Diaz is so much fun (for an anorexic)! I want her to play me in my life movie. But she’ll have to grow a belly first. Or at least be a realistic, voluptuous weight, a la The Mask.

I love movies. They’re novels for lazy people.

Finding Oneself Via the Net . . . Again – Wednesday, July 6, 2005
This is from Liv: she’s starch . . . I am water. I’m awesome. Q doesn’t like me very much.

Water
You are water. You’re not really organic; you’re
neither acidic nor basic, yet you’re an acid
and a base at the same time. You’re strong
willed and opinionated, but relaxed and ready
to flow. So while you often feel worthless,
without you, everything would just not work.
People should definitely drink more of you
every day.

Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

There Are Boobies On TV – Wdnesday, July 6, 2005 – 7:20 pm
I’m watching “Cleavage Culture” and it’s fascinating.

HOOTERS GIRL: I’m a feminist. I have a lot of feministic views.

Experimenting With Carbs
Perhaps the only aspect of my government-induced weight gain that displeases me is the back fat. The boobs are fun, my tummy’s nice and squishy, but the back fat is . . . wrong. So Jessie, my Food & Nutrition Guru*, is supporting me in a two week experiment wherein I eat minimal “carbs.” These “carbs” are, apparently, in everything I like to eat: bread, pasta, carrots even . . . But Jessie predicts that a lower-carb, higher-protein & veggie diet will get rid of that goshdarned back fat, without excessive changes to my exercise routine. And I like that.

* About Jessie being my Food & Nutrition Guru: yes, this is funny. It’s a private joke, but . . . to Jessie: ha!

Anyhoo, I tried to eat dinner today and failed. I hid all the “carb” stuff I like in the cupboard: spaghetti, fettuccine, crackers, rye bread (actually I threw that out because rye bread after 2 weeks would be nasty). And I replaced my counter buffet with cans of tuna, tomato soup, and some soup broth powder (the only non-carb items I already have on hand). So for dinner, I chose some cheese (yumyum) and tomato soup. And then I burned the soup.

You know, I remember a time when I made deluxe daily meals: roast beef, yorkshire puddings, steamed veggies . . . and they were great. I had no back fat. And now I burn canned soup.

Whatever. My starting weight, according to Circuit City’s display scale, is 138.2 pounds, with sexy black leather boots on. The experiment begins . . .

Being A Writer
I walked to work and ruminated on my play, which has been perplexing me. So I mentally dismantled the structure, thought “form = content,” made a listy list of options, considered numerology & gospel parallels, and ended up with a useable, meaningful skeleton on which to build my play. YAY!!!!

Ironically, my writing classes were separate from my English Lit classes, and yet it helps so much to work backwards (i.e. from the perspective of a critically-thinking audience) to figure out how to write something.

Example: If I want to have a Virgin Mary / Mary Magdalene paradox, but want to avoid binaries (which are inherently masculine) then I need to have both Marys working TOGETHER, rather than opposed, as in the cliched/traditional devil vs. angel technique. Unity, rather than conflict.

Therefore: Mother Mary and Maggie are instructional forces in Mary’s road trip, not obstacles or distractions.

I sent the reworked first few pages to Nathan, who has commissioned scripts from me & Keith, and he giggled. Via email. And I feel WONDERFUL that I’ve figured out the structure, because now I can just cut-and-paste the dialogue & text & ideas that I have, and whatever new stuff I write will be more focused and have a PURPOSE to fulfill.

And don’t we all like having a purpose?

Does Shake & Bake Have Carbs?? – Thursday, July 7, 2005 – 6:39 pm
It was either BBQ ribs or S&B chicken legs, and I let Q choose, and he chose S&B so I am not responsible. Also, I had a “low carb” bagel + cream cheese after work. But I’ve been carb-free otherwise! Yay me!

AND Q, J & I are trying not to drink any alcohol for ten days (starting a few days ago — the last time I drank anything was Canada Day, actually). And we’ve all kept to this, except that I am currently drinking (or trying to drink) a Diet Coke, since it is the only cold, non-alcoholic beverage here at Q’s, and it tastes SO BAD that I am very tempted to add just a little tiny bit of rum. Tastes like aspartame. Plastic sugar. Ew.

Being Okay That Shawn Has Other Females in His Life
Shawn has an Ontario girlfriend visiting, and I am incredibly jealous. I am not used to having to share my boys with anyone. Spencer loves ME, and ME ALONE (or at least, we pretend). Luke loves ME. Alex loves ME. Every female in the world falls in love with Q, but I know he’s really mine and we will always be each other’s best friend. (I have his momma’s phone number memorized.) So here I am, having to share my new friend. I’ve lost all my ability to be grown up about this.

Actually, that’s not true. I’ve vowed not to let my possessiveness be noticed by Shawn. He’s new, and I don’t want to frighten him. So I’ll just silently writhe. Or writhe over lunch hour with Q and Jessie to roll their eyes at me. And hopefully my skin will toughen up, just like I’ve learned not to groan aloud when Shawn flicks to the sports channel on tv AND WATCHES IT.

Also, My New Play
Here are the first few pages . . . most of the script is already written, I just have to shift stuff around and “fill in the blanks” so that it makes some sort of non-esoteric sense.

[2017 note: maybe someday I’ll post the script to maryMARY here …]

Carbs Shmarbs – Friday, July 8, 2005
This is foolish. For breakfast I wanted my usual Friday special: the steamed eggs with cheddar cheese and sourdough with strawberry jam. But bread is illegal, so I had to choose a carbfree breakfast sidedish to replace it, and therefore: bacon. 4 strips. HOW IS THAT HEALTHIER THAN TOAST????

This whole “being aware of food” thing could really mess a person up. Everything is grams and sugar content. Food should not = numbers!! I’m glad this is only a short term experiment.

Lazy Weekend – Saturday, July 9, 2005 – 10:50 am
I’ve been reading a book Boss Theresa leant me, by Miriam Toews. It’s about Mennonites, and it’s very very good. I might actually be motivated to finish this one.

Last night was a terrible waste of a Hot Heather Day. Sometimes everything comes together and I’m stunningly hot. But if there are no plans, and everyone else is as lame as me, then it’s only appreciated by Peter. So sad. I watched craptv and drank tea, and wished I could think of an adventure that would involve other people appreciating my pretty-phase.

Anyhoo, Q is coming to get me any minute now, and we will carve out some sort of adventure for today. It’s actually sunny . . .

Bad Movie – Sunday, July 10, 2005 – 12:58 am
Fantastic Four is gawdawful. Don’t waste your money. The only good part was the three beautiful men sitting beside me in the theatre.

Wild Horses – Monday, July 11, 2005 – 4:29 pm
That’s it. I’m done.

Stupid stupid men and their stupid stupid secret codes.

For example: Q and the boyz say that men like to be ignored. This is inherently opposed to ME. I do not ignore those I like. No, strange Heather, I actually try to spend time with them and talk with them. I will send love letters and emails if I’m thinking lovey thoughts. I will give presents, because I like to.

What’s wrong with spontaneous acts of love? Isn’t that what men inevitably bitch about — the lack thereof? “She isn’t spontaneous, she won’t fuck me in the kitchen.” Well, fuck you.

And why does everything have to be so dramatic? Whatever happened to:

1. girl meets boy;
2. girl and boy like each other;
3. girl and boy tell each other this;
4. girl and boy fool around.

Aren’t I supposed to be the “game-playing” one??? Isn’t that the female stereotype? Why am I the straight-forward one, and YOU MEN are all so vague and coded? It Is Not That Complicated.

At least get your goddamn stereotypes straight. The next time I hear a movie or man rhetorically ask: “What the hell do women want?” I WILL TELL YOU. And you won’t like it.

Awake For 16.5 Hours – Tuesday, July 12, 2005 – 9:30 pm
I woke up at 5am and was actually awake, not just dreaming of being awake, so I got up and talked to my dad & mom while I walked to work. Liv and I had sushi, and after work Shawn & I went to Swans to drink, and then walked to Fonyo Beach (??) and Shawn threw rocks at a particular spot in the water and I dug through smelly rocks for pretty things. It was sunny.

I feel somewhat more balanced today, which is good. I’m still completely perplexed by TMWWIW/AIL’s letter yesterday, which is an uncrackable combination of raving poetry and furious mania. (Aka good writing that I admire and don’t want to admire because TMWWIA/AIL broke my heart and I don’t know how to feel okay about admiring the writing of someone who broke my heart.)

SHAWN: There’s a soundtrack?

HEATHER: There’s always a soundtrack.

Anyhoo, I’ve resolved to keep breathing and eating and sleeping, and eventually everything will sort itself out.

Ohmigod, I’ve learned patience. When did that happen??????

Correction: I’ve learned the value of APPEARING to have patience, while inside I still get squishy with tummy butterflies and shaky with the DESIRE TO HIT SOMETHING REALLY REALLY HARD.

Because here is what I’d like to be real. And yes, I know this contravenes the advice and warnings I’ve had from EVERY fucking confidante, but I only tell the truth (unless I’m making shit up) so here it is:

I want TMWWIW/AIL to know what he wants. I want him to want me. Because even though he’s crazy and just a baby in the world, I am fairly sorta sane and jaded and I know what I need. Actually, I think I know what most of us need. And that is:

1. to know ourselves (hey, that’s my tattoo, freaky coincidence!);
2. to be okay with ourselves; and
3. to find someone who can love us, even when they know us really well.

Yes, I am embracing my foolish self in unreasonable, unrequited love. Fuck pride, fuck logical choices. It’s awfully hard to find a soulmate and when you do, it’s even harder to let them get away.

Drinking a Cider & Loving It – Wednesday, July 13, 2005 – 7:01 pm
It’s sunny & tanktop-warm outside, and I wore my sexy new “kitten” heels that look kinda like flamenco shoes today. I LOVE SUMMER.

Shawn Is Getting Some, the Bastard
Yesterday on our Big Walk we talked a lot about everything (from critical theory to fucking strangers) and I’ve decided that this is a really sweet situation. I get to be good friends with a smart, sexy, entertaining straight man and I don’t have to deal with all the drama and butterflies of being in love. Shawn’s girlfriend is named Nicole, for the record, and she intends to stay here in Victoria. Oh, the drama!!!! It’s fun watching Shawn squirm: he’s a loner who enjoys his private time, and he’s sharing a small living space with a woman. Hee hee. I would be more supportive and sympathetic, but I’m sleeping alone, and he gets it whenever he wants it (the bastard). So no pity for Shawn.

Tonight
Q is at the gym so Celeste & I are waiting for him to come home and shower, and then we’re meeting the boyz for martinis & dinner.

Word of the Day – Thursday, July 14, 2005
“cacoethes” = kak-oh-EE-theez
an urge to do something inadvisable.

Wonderful Sleepy Afternoon – Thursday, July 14, 2005 – 7:50 pm
After work I had a nappy nap on the hammock on Q’s rooftop. Except for falling asleep while wearing my contact lenses, it was exactly what I needed.

For some reason (stress???) I radiated Inappropriate Anger Management vibes today — I wanted desperately to have a tantrum and scream & pummel strangers on Douglas Street. Pent up sexual energy, I suppose. Whatever. The hammock nap and subsequent, complementary indoor nap on Q’s couch have relaxed me. I don’t even want one of the ciders in the fridge.

And now it’s almost 8pm on Thursday, and there are all kinds of lovely mystery detective shows on soon, and I’ve slept all afternoon so I won’t have to go to bed early and miss them.

Explanation of “Cacoethes”
First off, it’s a brilliant word for me. I have urges to do inadvisable things ALL THE TIME. I like to think it’s a writer thing. Except for when it results in trouble, in which case it’s an Inappropriate Anger Management thing or Christmas Eve Complex thing or Impulse Control Disorder thing, and therefore I should up my daily meds.

Anyhoo. I thought I’d be all proactive and express my fury at Q’s troubles re: being appreciated by his current and potential employers by complaining to The Dude In Charge. So I looked up the head honcho for the Public Service Agency. I happen to know this person through work to some extent, although I’ve never met him . . . moment of pause. But whatever. I was Heather The Proactive, Malcontent Citizen so I emailed this man from my home email account (NOT work — at least I was thinking there) and said B.C. was wasting its homegrown talent by not making an effort to keep my Q in the province, thereby forcing him to apply to Alberta and et cetera.

The man (a gentleman, truly) responded with a nice email and said Q should talk to him.

Unfortunately, when I forwarded this to Q it wasn’t a good thing. Q had seen this man on the way in to work, and he wasn’t happy about the email situation. SO ultimately I put Q in a really awkward position, and embarrassed him, and . . . yep.

Q wrote to the man and apologised, explaining that I get maternal at times and that he would be discussing the appropriateness of what I’d done with me asap. (He actually was impressively diplomatic and articulate — maybe that will get him a sweet job and everything will work out!!!! Ahem.)

Anyhoo. I have a new tattoo idea as a result (if I can think of where I’d put it): caceothes, another Greek term that explains me too well.

To Be Explained Later – Saturday, July 16, 2005 – 1:32 am
Harry Potter launch party at Chapters: I was Professor Trelawney and read tarot cards for pre-teens.

Accomplishment of the week: my fly-traps work and are filled with dead flies. YAY! Now Seamus & Caramel can frolic with minimal risk of fly-borne illness.

Also, I drove Jessie to the ferry. I love driving on the highway, sometimes.

Sunny – Saturday, July 16, 2005 – 11:14 am
Just watched 8 Mile, Eminem’s experiment in postmodern identity. Who are we? Marshall Mathers/Slim Shady/Eminem/Bunny Rabbit/B. Rabbit/Jimmy . . .

EMINEM: I am / whoever you say I am.

He’s fricking genius, that’s what.

Anyhoo, today is the Moss Street Paint In. I always end up with some sort of physical issue after this annual event: sun burn, blisters from ill-advised flip flops . . . but it’s not TOO sunny and I will sunscreen, don a coygirl hat* & wear appropriate footwear. Just one of those occasional measurements of what I’ve learned so far in life.

*”coygirl hat” = a Freudian slip??? I meant cowgirl hat . . . and by that, I mean mainstream alternative Le Chateau weave hat thing.

Speaking of Occasional Measurements
My temporary experiment with carbs has passed. It’s too complicated to pay attention to that sort of thing. Also, I really like bread and bread products. So screw it.

However, I’ve noticed a lessening of belly & other curvy bits, and I think this has to do with the minimal quantity of cider I’ve allowed myself lately. (Yes, mom, you’re right. Again.)

Also, I find that when I pay more attention to NOT drinking cider (or anything), I’m less likely to choose an alcoholic beverage just because it’s handy and cold in the fridge. I’m more inclined to drink water. So that’s healthy. Almost makes up for my recent neglect of the whole “running around the block” thing.

I haven’t gotten around to weighing myself recently, so I can’t really quantify any changes. Maybe sometime this next week.

Belated Birthday Loving
It was Nathan’s birthday yesterday, but I accidentally slept through his celebration. Sorry about that, Nate — I’ll wear the blue knee socks for you on our next lunch date. And maybe you can touch them. Maybe.

Laugh Tracks – Sunday, July 17, 2005 – 5:31 pm
Ever since Annie Hall I’ve been uncomfortable with laugh tracks. Now Q and Luke are watching Everyone Loves Raymond and all I can hear is the canned laughter. It’s so plastic.

Today’s Death March
Q took us to Prior Lake today. We (FINALLY!!) found the nude beach, after five years of searching, but it was more of a dock than a beach and although everyone was naked they were also old and unsexy and WAY too close to each other. I dream of a sandy, sunny beach where I can lie with my boobies exposed, but this was not meant to happen today.

So we went, instead, to the regular-person area and found a not-too-anty slope and Celeste dove into the water because she was so fricking hot. And I’m even more browny now, except, of course, for my goddamn tanfree boobs.

I heard some comedian say that tan lines are like a second-hand textbook: all the good parts have already been highlighted. Haha.

Harry Potter, Book 6
I’ve been reading my new Harry Potter, which was my payment for reading tarot cards as Prof. Trelawney at Chapters’ Harry Potter Launch Party on Friday. It’s so good. The writing isn’t exactly Giller-quality, but the story is twisty and wonderful. I have always suspected that J.K.Rowling sold her soul to the devil; it’s too addictive to just be fiction. More like crack. Wordy crack.

Making Soup – Monday, July 18, 2005 – 5:01 pm
I’m making my famous soup. It’s yummy.

Soup used to be scary and therefore canned, but I overcame that mental barrier about two years ago.

This thought, along with the Love, Actually soundtrack, has put me in a mood to compose:

Ode to Heather’s Exes
I keep souvenirs; my apartment is full of them. (Souvenirs, not exes.)

Nate: cedar box made for me for Christmas, currently holding a never-finished quilt and being used as my coffee table.

Matte: hackysack-making materials, hidden in my craft cupboard. Also, a yellow Starburst wallet that I carried around until it literally fell apart.

Q: everything in my apt, including the futon on the bunnies’ porch, my bed, my mattress, my desk . . . also, my orange/yellow poster that I wanted for YEARS.

Rob: confidence re: making soup from scratch.

Kent: a drawer full of lingerie that I don’t fit into anymore; one of his first ever headshots.

Divyesh: two petri dishes, some chem lab stopper things, and the pretty lights in my washroom.

The Hood – Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Here are the people who have become my nieghbours (aka people I say “Good Morning” to, and who might notice if I suddenly disappeared):
– the short maintenance guy, usually sitting at a table at the Breezeway Cafe;
– Sue & Stephen, the husband/wife owners of the Executive Shop newspaper place;
– the city worker who is always shovelling snow/blowing leaves/watering plants/sweeping/salting the walkways;
– the delivery man at CIBC who I’ve helped through the doors a few times, who is looking for a wife;
– the staff at Rheinland Bakery;
– the friendly older man cashier at the liquor store in Bay Centre;
– the group of senior-aged men who eat breakfast at Caffe Theatro sometimes and tell me I look pretty;
– the blond woman & her partner who own and manage Caffe Theatro and invented a special, non-spicy breakfast pannini to accomodate my sensitive stomache.

For Old Time’s Sake
Levi is performing this weekend!!!

Bonding With Nathan – Tuesday, July 19, 2005 – 3:36 pm
I took Nathan to Azuma for his Birthday sushi. Yummy yummy yumyum.

The strangest thing about Nathan is not the “Susie” work shirt or the occasional hair barrettes: it’s that he doesn’t drink hot drinks. So when we go for sushi and I O.D. on jasmine tea, he lets his cup sit until it’s tepid and then orders a glass of cold water and a Pepsi with ice.

Anyhoo, Nathan is an untapped source of Straight Single Men. He has committed to “hooking me up” with someone I approve of: tall, smart, et cetera. The Fringe Festival begins in August; this is apparently “Hook-Up Season” among the resident artsy people, and so we are planning our attack.

NATHAN: You’ve already got your summer tan. This won’t be hard at all.

Harry Potter: Read It
I will not tell you what happens. But it’s a good book (of course) so read it.

Also: Johnny Depp
I still haven’t seen Charlie & the Chocolate Factory and I really really want to. The most difficult part is choosing who to invite. It must be someone who properly appreciates the screwy beauty of Tim Burton and co.

Wow! 3 Times in One Day! – Tuesday, July 19, 2005 – 10:09 pm
I had a very very very good night tonight.

I wanted an adventure, but no one was home, and then I slept through the 6:45pm show of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, and then it was 7pm and I decided to go downtown to a cafe and write the scene I’d promised myself I’d write today for my new play.

So I walked down and sat at the bar at Serious Coffee on Broad & Yates, and I wrote LIKE A FRICKING FIEND for 2 or so hours. Pages and pages, and lots of clever ideas to fire up the parts I was unsure about.

It’s easy to forget how good this feels. It’s cathartic and satisfying and I feel awake after. Maybe this is a side-effect of doing What I’m Supposed To Be Doing in life. Or maybe it’s because I talk so much and have so much to say, and to focus all that thought on a specific project is empowering. And I can forget about the various obsessions in my life, and just think about words and how to use them.

Whatever. I’m excited about my play. I want to see it produced. And I intend to have it ready to submit to the National Playwriting contest thingy this week.

Johnny Depp + Tim Burton + Roald Dahl = July 20, 2005, 9:38 pm
Oh wow oh wow oh wow. I have never before watched a movie that I would happily watch ALL OVER AGAIN immediately after.

If anyone wants to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory I will go with you.

Wow.

And Also
My house smells like bunny pee. I’m waiting for Peter to leave his litter box so that I can clean it.

Lounging in Swimwear – Thursday, July 21, 2005 – 8:25 pm
Today was crazy busy at work. I called every major media outlet in B.C. and tried not to say anything embarrassing to a reporter. (This requires minimal giggling, and I have a bit of a problem controlling that.)

Anyhoo, all is well and the day is done and I have a cider in my system. I’m wearing my brown bikini in the hopes that I’ll pick up enough radiation from the computer screen to erase these horrific tanlines I created while reading Harry Potter, hunched over, in the sunshine on Tuesday. My tummy looks like a zebra’s tummy.

Historic Day For Human Rights
Today Queen Adrienne gave royal assent to the same-sex marriage bill, thereby officially making homophobia illegal. Or something like that. This is a HUGE day for human rights — similar to that wild day in October, 1929, when women were declared “persons.”

For My Stalkers
I’m house- and puppy-sitting for Q this weekend. He’s off to Seattle to party like only a Q can. Celeste and I will give each other manicures and gossip about our crushes. There’s a hot rottie at the dog park who’s been extra eager to sniff her ass . . .

If anyone feels like sunning on the rooftop this weekend, give me a call. (I can’t hear the buzzer from inside.)

Also, it’s Luminara this weekend — on Saturday, I think — and I’m trying to decide:
1. if I want to brave the crowds and go;
2. who I’d want to go with.

Luminara has so much romantic potential! The park is completely dark except for the lanterns, and you can snuggle in the trees. The last time I went was with Rob and his unacknowledged-crush-but-definitely-mood-ruining friend Dylan. It wasn’t the romantic adventure I’d expected.

And One Last Thing About Romance, Et Cetera
I was browsing blogs (during a break – ahem) at work today, and stumbled onto this guy named Roger who has recently fallen into mad puppy love with a girl. He’s so open about his excitement and affection for her that MY FAITH IN (STRAIGHT-) MANKIND HAS BEEN RENEWED. Maybe all straight men AREN’T passive, reserved, and ultimately disappointing. Maybe it’s possible to find someone who will not only adore me, but TELL me that he adores me.

What a crazy thought.

Waking Up to Doggy Kisses – Saturday, July 23, 2005 – 8:27 am
The seagulls are very loud outside. I left the window open for temperature control and I dreamed of being beachside all night.

The Most Disgusting Thing Ever
My landlord, Ian, called the other day to say the house I live in has developed a “rat problem,” in that a rat was spotted in the house the other day.

First thought: Maybe it was Peter?

Second thought: It’s the fault of your hippy children, who leave the doors open all the time.

Ian asked me to lock up the bunny food and be extra attentive to the litterboxes on the porch.

Anyhoo, I went to feed the bunnies after work and there was a chewhole in their foodbag, which is kept up high so they can’t possibly reach it. The I looked around my pile o’ bunny stuff and found a whole bunch of non-bunny shit in one of the open containers. New thing learned: rat shit looks like extra long tictacs.

So I feel silly, being all defensive (in my head, not aloud to Ian, thank god). Jessie suggested that the presence of a rat might explain some unusual midnight stomping a few weeks back. I wonder how Seamus & Caramel (would) feel about a rat: they share the same rodent species, after all. I wonder if they can communicate.

SEAMUS TO CARAMEL: EEEK!! There’s a beasty out there!

CARAMEL TO RAT: Fuck off, rat.

My proactive plan is to set a trap up on the counter where I (used to) store the food. The bunnies can’t get up there, so any rodent I catch is fair game.

Ew.

My New Play
It’s done! Or at least, done enough to submit to the contest thingy. I have everything ready to be mailed today.

Deadlines are so helpful.

Man-Friends Suck – Saturday, July 23, 2005 – 6:23 pm
Shawn and I were SUPPOSED to walk Celeste today and take her for a swim in the Georgia Strait and clean up his resume for an excellent job that I found for him.

Not only did we not get to go on our walk and bond, but ALSO he didn’t call to explain his absence until 6pm, and we can’t even reschedule for tonight because he’s going to Luminara (which I told him about, by the way) for a romantic night with his girlfriend.

Dink.

Man-friends suck.

Except for the Q, who is away right now so he can’t comfort me and tell me that I’m better off without man-friend dinks in my life.

Man-Friends Suck, Part II – Saturday, July 23, 2005 – 7:09 pm
I’ve returned from Hollywood Tonight, armed with The Terminal and Be Cool. Also, self-analysis (and some adventures on Yates Street) has revealed the following:

The part that pisses me off the most re: straight manfriends is that I get so much attention from male strangers, and yet the guys I make friends with treat me like smelly pooh.

Well, not that badly. But definitely not as well as I’d like to be treated. Q says I “clean up nice,” and I do. So where the hell is the line between “little hottie I want to fuck” and “some chick I spend time with when I’m not busy”??? Is there a happy middle-ground of common courtesy???????

A Surprising Twist of Fate – Sunday, July 24, 2005 – 12:17 am
Be Cool was great and The Terminal was boring & stupid. Who’da thunkit?

Weird People Posting Comments
I don’t think I know anyone who knows that language that’s on the comments thingy. I have no idea what it says.

Possibility 1: This is the best site ever! You are wonderful and I will buy your novel when you one day write it.

Possibility 2: Self-indulgent, poorly spelled bullshit.

Possibility 3: Haha, you probably can’t read this comment and don’t know what I’m saying. Writhe!

Also, “Anonymous”??? It takes more time (and effort) to type “Anonymous” correctly than any name I know. (Chicken shit.)

[2017 note: my original Little Spitfire blog was built in the olden days of blogging: we didn’t have Akismet or fancy pants comments/spam plugins back then. I used a then-state-of-the-art line of code to enable comments on my site. I can’t remember if I was able to edit/delete/not-approve posted comments.]

The Perfect Life – Sunday, July 24, 2005 – 3:38 pm
Key ingredient: sunshine.

THEN, combine with a comfortable couch, a fridge full of Chinese leftovers from The Forum, a six-pack of raspberry cider, two bottles of faux vino, and a hammock in the sun.

ALSO, some means of writing, be it computer or pen & paper.

ALSO, access to 50% familiar music (i.e. Eminem) and 50% unfamiliar but decent music, aka Quinn’s iTunes.

Some Interesting Visuals to Contemplate While You Consider This Miracle Recipe For Happiness
Some guy over in the UK (I used to think that meant “Ukraine” . . .) does chalk-drawings on the sidewalk that look 3-D. Yiminy.

I’ve Been Dissed By the Media!!!!!! – Monday, July 25, 2005
This is so nifty. The following is an excerpt from a political column in the Times Colonist this weekend (remember last week, when I had to make media calls??):

“The Liberal government, which is usually so conscientious about sending e-mails to media outlets, didn’t issue a bulletin to alert reporters ahead of time about the press conference.
Instead, a ministry flak made calls to select reporters, leaving a number of press gallery members in the dark.”

“Ministry flak”!!!!! Ha!!!

Adventures of a Ministry Flak – July 25, 2005 – 6:14 pm
I realised this morning, while typing, that I forgot to paint one of my fingernails with pretty shell-colour nailpolish last night.

Also, it is ridiculously beautiful outside so I want to go walk Celeste in the sunshine. I’m waiting patiently for Q to have a 30 minute nap, and then I’m going to make him come for a walk with us.

Updates on Love, Et Cetera
There is nothing exciting to report. I guess that’s what happens when I spend all my time with rabbits, gay men, and a Non-Romantic Life Partner (aka “the Q”).

However, I did have an epiphany today, while looking at the pictures of pretty men in the sports pages of a newspaper. It is as follows:

– the men in the sports pages are about the same age as me.
– they are very busy playing sports and doing sports interviews and otherwise furthering their sports careers.
– they are very busy becoming successful at what they love to do, and therefore probably don’t exactly give a shit about falling in love, having babies, meeting their soulmate, blah blah blah.
THEREFORE
why the hell am I thinking about love and et cetera when I should be working at being successful as a playwright/writer? Now (my 20’s) is when I should be writing and working my ass off to make a lovely life for myself as a Playwright/Writer.

I think this might be one of those “women are conditioned to nest” issues. But screw that, I’m an educated feminist with some rather neato skills. My focus has been corrupted by thoughts of nooky & flowers.

It remains to be seen if my life perspective begins to reflect this new understanding, or if I continue to lust/obsess over pretty, smart men.

Heather For Dummies – Tuesday, July 26, 2005
First, let me update: Shawn and I are being nice to each other again, because he:
1. apologized for his dink-like actions; and
2. asked me to stop being mad at him.

However, I think (for future reference, and for those with whom I have not yet been pissy) that I will explain my pissy/forgiveness Code o’ Conduct.

I have the emotional retention of a sock. THIS MEANS THAT I can only stay mad/happy/contemplative/whatever for a limited amount of time before my brain/heart/whatever wanders on to some new thought/feeling. It generally works like this:

Interest in a particular topic = 10-15 minutes
Pissy rage = 1-3 days
Moments of Lust = 0.5-30 minutes
Love = 1 day-until I forget about you or fall in love with someone/thing else.

My Non-Romantic Life Partner Q knows this from experience, so if he makes me angry he just waits a few minutes/days, then calls and invites me for a dogwalk or dinner or something and he knows I’ll have forgotten that I’m mad at him.

That said, the only emotive instinct that is PERMANENT with me is whether someone is a “good person.” If you are cruel, sexist, or don’t stand up for someone when you should, then you suck and I won’t forget it.

Charlie II – Tuesday, July 26, 2005 – 10:19 pm
Q and I saw Charlie & the Chocolate Factory tonight! It was my second time. It is so good. Still.

Busy Crazy Work Day
I worked straight through from 6:45 am – 4:30 pm. We were very busy — we didn’t even take lunch breaks, we just ordered in pizza and everyone who saw the pizza being delivered thought we were a bunch of slackass party animals when in truth some of us didn’t leave our cubicles all day. Over-worked, fairly-paid . . . it could be worse!

I love my job.

Sexy New Hair – Wednesday, July 27, 2005 – 6:08 pm
Spencer did my hair today after work! It’s blonder and my roots are gone and it’s short again. YAY!!!

In Other YAY!!! News
We have a big table for tomorrow night’s Atomic Vaudeville show: Spencer, Jessie, Nathan, Q, Justin, Jessica, Christine . . . we are all very excited. And now I have pretty hair too.

Also, I’m working on a new script. It’s crazy how one idea comes right after another one is done. This new one is a love story, and it will incorporate the wee scripts I’ve shown you here in the past few months, with some extensive elaboration and character/plot development. It feels very good to have something to work on like this . . . longterm, creative, and all mine. I’ll post bits as they emerge . . .

Where 4 Art My Motivation?
I need to clean this apartment. Peter is shedding and there are dust bunnies everywhere. However, cleaning just isn’t that much fun. Especially when it’s sunny outside. Schmew.

Confession of Unapologetic Vanity – July 28, 2005
I was walking to work someday last week and suddenly noticed that all the commuters driving by were staring at me. It was flattering, and very very uncomfortable. I walked a little more sexily.

Then it got weird. EVERYONE was staring, including women in minivans, and I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. Everything was tucked in properly, and the drivers were too far away to notice boogers or anything . . . so finally I turned around to make sure they weren’t staring at some monster behind me, and then I noticed that at 6:30 a.m. the sun is directly in line with the road, and so the drivers were looking to the side so as to avoid the glare of the sun.

It was kind of disappointing.

And yes, I am a gomer.

Hungover For a Weekend o’ Sin – Friday, July 29, 2005
Not exactly hungover — I just feel a little queasy. I need to eat something. I remembered this morning that we’re going to Vancouver this weekend for FUN FUN FUN at Pride, and I was immediately relieved that I hadn’t thought of that last night because I wouldn’t have been able to sleep as well as I did. Excitement and whatnot.

So last night I fought a clown on stage. Last month, I made out with Spiderman. Atomic Vaudeville is so weird. Q was very brave and when Flora made him go onstage he did it with grace. She tied sheet music to his head and made him kneel, facing the audience, while she played a standup bass. The funniest part wasn’t her creepy lullabye, but Q’s facial expressions. I thought he was going to kill me for making him come.

Anyhoo, it was as crazy fun as ever and there are still two more shows, so if you want to go then do. Doors open at 7:30pm Friday & Saturday night, 1415 Broad Street in Victoria. Me & my troupe, meanwhile, will be enroute to a drunken sin binge in Vancouver.

Confession of Regret & Moment of Weakness
I admit, I’m terribly disappointed that my RockStar doesn’t love me anymore. Especially since I’m going to Vancouver this weekend and it would have been a perfect smoochie-rendezvous situation.

Q assures me that there will be many many beautiful men around us this weekend, and I know that’s true, but they will be gay so that’s not as comforting as it could be. Also, Spencer will be there and that will be lotsa fun, and we’re bringing Celeste because we can’t find a puppy sitter, so I’ll have her to snuggle with at the hotel.

Anyhoo.

Quote of the Night
It was something about pedophilia . . . I can’t remember. Really must write these things down . . .

Heather McLeod

Category Archives: Little Spitfire

August 2005

July 2005

Heather McLeod is a mystery writer based in British Columbia, Canada.