Tag Archives: Mike Delamont

Little Spitfire

February 2006

Leave a comment

Sexy-Ass Skirt – Thursday, Feb.2/06
By which I mean: today I’m wearing the skirt that makes my ass look especially sexy.

In Other News
I am not tired, and I even woke up at 5:58 am (2 minutes before my first alarm went off), and I think it’s because I didn’t sleep way too much, like I normally do. After work I went for a quick tea break with Liv, and then met Joel at Chapters. We ate nachos and drank booze at the Irish Times (and the nachos were even decently cheesy, since I made a point of requesting extra cheese). Apparently the glasses at the Irish Times are larger than normal, and since I’m just a cheap drunk we were both a little tippy by 6:30. I wanted to take advantage and get my NEW “FUCK YOU!” BARBELL (oh yeah!!!!) installed, but the piercer at Urge was gone for the day so no luck there. (I found my Dream Belly Barbell while out with Jared on the weekend — forgot to mention that!)

Joel had his car so we went to see Nanny McPhee at the Odeon to give us time to sober up. It was Mary Poppins For Dummies . . . VERY heavy-handed with sad little gimmicks that I suppose small children might enjoy. Or perhaps I’m just being patronising.

Anyhoo, once I was home I checked my phone messages and realised that I’d double-booked myself for Thursday (today). That’ll teach me to make plans when I’m half-asleep. So I called Jared and postponed, and now I’m free to properly meet my New Person of the Day, aka Barry (Q’s UVic aquaintance), after work.

Did I mention that I’m wearing my Sexy-Ass Skirt?? Poor guy.

#

2nd Good Sleep in a Row – Friday, Feb.3/06
I think it must be these after-work encounters that are responsible. I have to stay awake until 9/10pm, and then I crash, and so I have 8 or so hours of sleep and wake up just before my alarm goes off.

I met Barry yesterday. He’s tall and has amazing eyebrows, so naturally I was weak-kneed from the beginning. And he’s smart and edumacated and funny, and he smiled lots (with pretty man-dimples). And then he kinda stumbled on his way to the washroom and my carefully applied Shell o’ Suaveness cracked . . . clumsiness is infinitely endearing. BUT I am being Good this time and NOT falling in love within minutes/hours/days, dammit. Really, I’m not. I’m going to be Cool and Aloof and avoid any/all untimely expressions of Love. You’ll see.

So I’ve only sent him one email so far today. That’s me, being restrained.

In My future, I See . . .
It’s Nadia’s birthday bash tonight!!! We’re going dancing. I am very excited. I love these girls. And tomorrow is Chanelle’s birthday, but I might not go if it looks like a Couple’s Thing (ew). Also, Joel has invited me to see a play a the Belfry sometime this month, which is exciting – I haven’t seen a Belfry play in a really long time, and they’re usually excellent.

#

Making Pre-Storm Lasagna – Friday, Feb.3/06 – 7:50 pm
We’re all just WAITING for the Apocalypse to hit the island. In preparation I bought two bottles of faux vino, rented three DVDs, and now have a big pan of lasagna in the oven.

Nadia had to go to Vancouver today (the ferries will likely be cancelled tomorrow) so our Darcy’s Birthday Bash was cancelled. Kind of a shame, because I felt like going out, but now with the storm swirling offshore I’m kind of pleased to be somewhere inside, safe and warm.

#

Shaking My Ass – Saturday, Feb.4/06 – 6:27 pm
Between naps I ate lasagna and watched Mad Hot Ballroom. I love dancing. I suspect I’m neglecting that part of my soul — I did ballet & jazz until I was 18 or thereabouts, and African and belly dancing and swing in university. These days the only time I shake my ass is while doing dishes or semi-drunk at the bar. In another life I would have been a showgirl. But in THIS life I can multitask (hobby-wise) so there’s no excuse for neglecting my ass-shaking self.

So I did dishes in my underwear and listened to Eminem’s Curtain Call, and now I’m loving my entire Eminem collection. I’m going dancing with Liv & Lauren tonight. I can’t wait.

Politics & Playing it Cool
It’s complicated, this whole dating and/or meeting new people thing. I was supposed to hang out with Jared the Carpenter this weekend, and I was supposed to call him today. But I feel like I milked that new-person-conversation cow. Meanwhile, he’s thinking (I assume) that we’re potential daters. And I’m just being a bitch by not calling when I said I would.

(Moment of empathy for)
Barry said he’d call me, and Q says that means this weekend if he’s interested in a date-situation. I am not a patient-waiter sort of person.

So I’m going out tonight. I’m going to shake off all this relationship-anxiety crap.

And maybe meet some new hottie.

#

Ugh – Sunday, Feb.5/06 – 10:55 am
If anyone ever says to you, Hey, let’s invent a cranberry-flavoured chip! PLEASE smack them.

I know this because. I had a bag of Miss Vickies for dinner last night, and drank cranberry-vodkas at Evolution. And then puked in the washroom.

Yes, I’ve become a Drunken Club Puker.

I’m so ashamed.

But wowwee, I sure felt better after that . . . and I don’t feel sick at all today. I’m eating lasanga . . . as usual.

So I ended up leaving at midnight (which is pathetic) because I was having a VERY hard time focusing/walking/etc. (And there was the puking incident.) I called Quinn as soon as I was out of the bar, and he talked me to safety until I was in a cab.

QUINN: “And don’t try sleeping on that goddamn loft bed.”

Alcohol is such a tricky tool. It’s so easy to overdo it, and thereby ruin your planned night out . . . to make me feel extra stupid, one of my favourite dance songs came on just as I was leaving.

Whatever. Lesson learned, blah blah blah. The storm’s stopped — I might go for a walk today.

Oh, and weird moment of the night: Liv said my arms looked all toned & athletic in my sexy tanktop. Perhaps eating bowls of lasagna is a strange form of exercise???

#

Walking With Ryefield – Sunday, Feb.5/06 – 6:52 pm
Ryefield came over today with a bag of greens from his garden. We tried to lure the bunnies out to sample the buffet, but they were shy. Peter ate some, but only once we were out of sight.

Ryefield was in a vicious accident awhile ago, was in a coma, and then spent months rehabilitating in the hospital. I think I mentioned some of his weird vocabulary side-effects earlier . . . anyhoo, we talked lots over tea, then walked down to Ross Bay and back up. Ryefield’s 32 and stunningly beautiful. It’s a pleasure just to look at him.

And now I’m sleepy . . . also I checked my work email and apparently our ministry was in EVERY major newspaper this weekend, so my morning will be busy tomorrow. I can justify going to bed early.

#

So. Whatever. – Monday, Feb.6/06 – 6:52 pm
Apparently this “being cool and aloof” thing works. Barry called me today and we’re going to the opera on Thursday. He said he thought The Rape of Lucretia was a play . . . very cute. I keep wondering why people want to take me to plays, and then I remember that I write plays. So, naturally. Silly me.

Also, I am even being cool and aloof re: telling y’all via this site, since he called at 3pm or so this afternoon, and it’s almost 4 hours since then. Of course, I did have a nap . . .

Anyhoo, I’m pleased. Or whatever. You know.

Peter’s Such a Cutie Patootie
He’s sprawled out on his yellow welcome mat by the porch door, and he’s so lazy that he’s grooming himself just by bobbing his head and stretching his tongue out. No extreme neck movement, no reaching around to his backside . . . how regal.

Speaking of which, Mom sent me a video AND three pictures of Hollis today!!! They tried to feed him non-boob-food and he wasn’t too pleased about that. He sounds like a dinosaur when he skreetches. Also, he says “Momma.” Evy assures me he also says “Aunty Heather.”

Mom called me last night — her and Dad are coming to visit me this Sunday! My first thought (I guiltily admit it) was that I’d have to let them have my bed. I love my bed. Dammit. And then I thought about seeing my family again, love love, et cetera . . . I suppose one night on the couch won’t kill me. I’ll just have revel in my Mattress all this week.

#

Everybody’s Away – Tuesday, Feb.7/06 – 6:23 pm
Jessie’s been training this week, and Liv was ill both Monday and today, and Q took a “mental health” day today, so it’s been a very strange few days at work. I miss our foursome gossip lunches. I hope Liv’s normal again soon.

Meanwhile, I’ve been super busy with work, and I’ve been trying earlier hours so I’m a new sort of tired.

Whine whine whine.

Matlock is a Tease
On the weekend I woke up one day at 4am so I flicked channels and found Matlock just as it was starting. Oh, lucky!!!! I hadn’t been able to catch a Matlock episode in months.

So I watched it, battling sleepiness, for the full hour, only to have it end abruptly, “to be continued.” CRUEL. How often is a Matlock fan awake at 4am? Not to mention on consecutive nights?? And there was no guarantee that if I DID manage to be awake at 4am the next morning, that the 2nd part would be the episode that aired.

Sometimes I’m tempted to buy DVD collections of Matlock, Murder She Wrote, and Columbo just so I never have to experience times like this. (Do they even have a DVD collection of Murder, She Wrote??????)

Also
I had a “breakfast burrito” (i.e. scrambled eggs, cheddar, salsa in a tortilla shell) for dinner yesterday. IT WAS HEAVEN, especially after multiple days of (really yummy) lasagna. I love eggs. And cheddar.

I think I might have that again.

#

Mid-tv Drama – Tuesday, Feb.7/06 – 10:37 pm
There was shouting and swearing and crying from one of the apartments down the hallway during a commercial break of The Rick Mercer Report, and wow do I love RealLife Drama when it isn’t my own.

I mean — I feel really awful for whoever was hurt and sad.

Then the commercial ended and I un-muted the tv because RealLife Drama tends to leave gaps in the plot and that would have bothered me for DAYS.

Also, Peter’s been spending way too much time on that yellow door mat. I think he’s avoiding me. Or just playing it cool and aloof . . . or his leg’s broken and in typical rabbit/prey style he’s pretending that everything’s fine so I don’t eat him.

#

Peter Still Loves Me? – Wednesday, Feb.8/06 – 9:09 pm
I lured him with a full food dish, grabbed him, and clipped his back nails. Which, by the way, were ridiculously long. He did all the usual Bunny Signs o’ Panic: heavy breathing, grinding his teeth . . . but I did NOT cut the quicks or anything like that, and it was fast, and he’s now a little stunned, sitting on the couch. Silly bunny.

BUSY Work
If it’s possible to run around like a fiend while sitting at a desk staring at a computer monitor, that’s what I did. At one point there were THREE coworkers lined up at my cubicle to ask me for projects. I love my job. I’m busy from start to finish, and if it ever gets overwhelming I’m allowed to say HELP ME!! or go for a walk or something. They appreciate the importance of mental health at my office. I like that.

Tomorrow I get to dress up all pretty and go to the opera with Barry. It’s been sunny and beautiful today, and I expect it to stay that way . . . hopefully it’ll be nice enough to wander around Victoria a little beforehand.

I went to Quinn’s after work today to snuggle with Celeste, his overweight lapdog. When Q came home he did situps and Celeste got all excited, and jumped onto his tummy, licking his face. It was wonderful. We had chilli for dinner and now I’m a little concerned that I might have stinky chilli farts tomorrow while sitting beside Barry in a stuffy opera hall. Stay tuned.

#

When Can I Stop Being Aloof? – Friday, Feb.10/06
I’ll have to ask Jessie, Liv & Q today . . . I had a great date with Barry last night. He’s so tall. I mean, great. We went to Shiki Sushi for dinner, and tried some new rolls (salmon tempura — strong fish taste, but yummy nonetheless), and drank tea and Barry tried green tea ice cream for the first time ever, and we talked lots. And then we realized it was almost 8 and we had to get cracking over to the Royal. So we did, and had great balcony seats with an aisle for Barry’s freakishly long legs.

Aesthetically-pleasing Rape
I was most interested to see how they’d present a rape scene (it IS “The Rape of Lucretia,” after all) without it being terrible and tacky and traumatic. And until the rape scene I was giggly — operas tend to make me giggly, since they are so FAKE, what with the excessively formal music and flowery narration, etc — but then Lucretia was in her bed and the light was just so goddamn pretty. Purple on faux marble, white silky material . . . anyhoo. And then I really got into the whole experience . . . the 1940’s narrators/chorus mediate between the Roman-times story and the 2006 audience “with eyes that have wept for Christ” (or something like that) and it’s just a great gimmick, theatrically & thematically. Love vs. lust, purity and jadedness, etc. And Barry was holding my hand, so that also made everything better.

How strange, to see an opera about rape on a date.

So the opera ended at 10 or thereabouts, and we were going to get a drink at the Med Grill but it was closed, so we decided to say goodnight, and I GOT SMOOCHED. Oh yeah. So there. I got me some sugar. And it was very very good sugar.

But enough of that.

So hopefully I’ll have more adventures with Barry to report, after this busy weekend . . . I’m going to see a play with my buddy Joel tonight, and eat nachos and drink cider, and tomorrow I’m venturing to Nanaimo to meet up with my parents before they come to Victoria Sunday. Busy busy busy. And with smooch-cooties.

#

Laundry, Laundry Everywhere – Saturday, Feb.11/06 – 2:48 pm
I decided to stay in Victoria today and clean my house so my parents don’t have to wade through bunny hair when they visit me tomorrow.

I did laundry early this morning, and since the house drier is TERRIBLE I hung everything up, so my undies are clothes-pinned to a wool line across my living room and socks are hung everywhere else, and shirts are hung up on my loft frame. It’s very moist in here.

I don’t know where the sunshine went, but it’s grey and kind of windy outside . . . hopefully Barry and I will go for a walk or sit somewhere warm and drink tea for awhile this afternoon. This is snuggling-while-watching-craptv weather . . . I don’t know if that’s an appropriate third date. And Q’s off in Vancouver being a sinner and hooligan, so I can’t ask him for moral guidance. Or etiquette, whatever . . .

Anyhoo, I watched Wedding Crashers (the “uncorked” version) just now. It’s so bad. I really wanted it to be a great movie because I’m stuck owning the DVD thanks to my sneaky Columbia House membership.

Last night I saw The Love List at the Belfry with Joel, my UVic buddy. It –

(entry suddenly interrupted by a phone call, a boiling kettle, or something — can’t remember)

#

Parents to Arrive @ Any Time! – Sunday, Feb.12/06 – 1:01 pm
See half-completed entry for yesterday below.

I’ve been a schnozzle at updating due to cleaning, sleeping, and unexpectedly long visits with Barry. Sorry about that.

Highlights
Went to Darcy’s to drink and eat nachos with Liv, Nadia and Michelle. Jessie & Jon & friend showed up just as we were leaving for Red Jacket. Red Jacket is shittiest club EVER. 99% of employees have major attitude and make you PAY for it ($8 cover, mandatory $2 coat check, expensive drinks). THIS IS NOT VANCOUVER, DAMMIT. Various flirtatious dramas vicariously experienced via female companions. Barry showed up (I invited earlier) and he DANCES which is stunning for such a tall man. I’ve never met a tall guy who feels comfortable dancing when not completely sloshed (or ever). Very sexy, along with usual sexy-Barry qualities. Took Barry home with me at midnight. Yadda yadda. Barry left at noonish, I ran around finishing house chores. Parents should be here asap. It’s sunny outside. Peter left a poop in his newly-cleaned litterbox that looks like braided black jelly.

#

Guilty Admission – Monday, Feb.13/06 – 7:12 pm
I’m eating bunny food.

I was dishing out the pineapple and oh, it looked really good, so I divided it three ways.

Visiting With the ‘Rents
It was a short visit so I miss them! A writing teacher told us to always “leave them wanting more,” and it’s true. We had a long dinner at Swan’s last night, and they kidnapped me from work for breakfast today. We talked about how wonderful Hollis is. And now they should be almost landing in Cranbrook, with an hour and a half drive home.

#

Post-Valentines Sleepiness – Wednesday, Feb.15/06
Yawn.

After work yesterday I went home, grabbed my rolling pin, pie crust recipe, and some random ingredients, changed into comfortable clothes, and went to Q’s where I was mauled by Celeste. Celeste is very very overweight these days. It’s leftover pudge from her gluttonous Christmas with Nadia and Nadia’s family, plus minimal exercise due to Q’s laziness, plus . . . I’m not sure. That’s probably enough to explain her pudge. Anyhoo. Celeste and I drove to Safeway and I bought AMAZING steaks, romaine lettuce, etc etc, and then I went back to Q’s and napped until 6pm. At which point I marinated the steaks and started on the pies.

In conclusion: we had an amazing dinner. Guests included Liv, Jessie, Spencer, Lauren, Leland, with end-of-the-evening-visits from Jessie’s Jon, and Barry. My lemon meringue pies (2) didn’t have enough time to cool properly so we couldn’t eat them (Leland tried — the filling was like lemon soup), but the apple one was great. I’d forgotten my apple pie recipe at home, so I invented the filling — and I used Golden Delicious apples instead of my usual red ones, on the advice of the Safeway produce guy. Very yummy. Q cooks a perfect steak, and his Caesar Salad Dressing is the most amazing salad dressing ever created on the planet.

Barry came over to pick me up after his writing class, at about 10pm or so, and we went to my house and he stayed over, even knowing that I had to work at 6am Wednesday/today.

So a very exceptional Valentine’s Day, all in all, thanks to my Victoria Family, excellent food, and a snuggle partner. Hope yours was equally pleasing.

#

I Love Thursdays – Feb.16/06
Hollis was born on a Thursday, we go to Atomic Vaudeville on Thursdays, CSI is on tv, and everyone’s chipper because it’s almost Friday but not quite so we aren’t lethargic and anxious about the weekend.

I’ve been very confused lately, seeing shiny cds hung around Olympian’s necks, and used as icons in the newspapers. Is this a new fad, I wondered? And no, it turns out that Torinians/Italians/2006 Olympians are using shiny cds as Olympic medals.

Gold CD = gold medal.

I don’t understand it.

If we’d had a Backyard Olympics when I was a little kid (which we never did because we just weren’t sporty enough — we made Hitchcock-esque films and read to each other) then we might have used chiny cds as medals. (Except that we didn’t have cds then. Dammit — yet another logistic gap in my little analogy here . . .) But grown ups, professional athletes, multi-billion dollar sports ventures using shiny cds as medals????? It just feels wrong.

#

Hollis’s First Email!! – Thursday, Feb.16/06 – 2:27 pm
mjn vb k .o 7vv7s rhgd56 7victrx5xcf56686cyf bc jb ,ghvb gvbhjm

love hollis*

* I think Evy wrote that last bit.

#

Windy Cold Friday Day – Feb.17/05 – lunchtime
Ew. I walked to work today from Barry’s house — it’s very close, only a few blocks, but wowwee that wind was vicious. It’s so cold out there!!!! I’ve been lusting after Q’s fireplace (and a snuggle with Celeste) all morning.

Yes, so, I went to Barry’s last night. He lives with a roommate, Scott, who is currently in Toronto. They have a beautiful, huge apartment — typical ’70s size, with hardwood and huge windows. And Barry’s room is painted yellow 🙂

The strangest part is the shower — here’s one of the tallest men ever, at 6-foot-four or something, and the showerhead is JUST above my head. One day I’d like to watch Barry try to wash his hair. It must be the yoga that enables him to bend like that.

Anyhoo, this weekend will be very exciting, but not for the usual drunken reasons. It’s the Times Colonist Book Sale!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Over 30,000 books have been donated by my fellow Victorians, and on Saturday Jessie & I will join the ever-present throng and hunt for classics (aka Horatio Hornblower, by C.S. Forester, for Dad). Saturday afternoon I’m watching Liv at her recital, and then I MIGHT (but probably won’t) accompany Liv & Jessie to watch a Doors cover band. Or maybe I’ll rent 1,000 bad movies and gorge on Miss Vickies . . . whatever. It’ll be a good night, I expect.

And maybe I’ll get around to writing some more interesting thoughts — unlike these obnoxious day-after journal entries.

#

Weird Saturday Morning – Feb.18/06 – 12:17 pm
Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, the trellis wall on the bunnies’ balcony blew off in the windstorm. That’s pretty impressive, considering that the wall has already survived seasons of Victoria windstorms.

So I equipped myself with hammer, SuperGlue, a hoody and my cell phone (in case I needed Dad’s advice), and went out to fix the problem. Kim, my upstairs neighbour and the bunnies’ GodMother, arrived to help me with the heavier/more awkward bits, and now everything’s back to normal, and relatively stable out there. I’m going to somehow tie the trellis to various parts of the balcony to help it withstand future storms, especially now that it’s been pieced together by ME, and not my Dad, the SuperCarpenter.

And then I checked my work email, to see what’s going on in the world, and one of my bosses had written to ask me if I could throw together a quick media package of all the overnight media (since we’re, as usual, frontpaging it up today). So I worked for a wee while, and now I’m craving dim sum, which doesn’t necessarily follow from work in a logical manner, but that’s how it is.

Also today is the Times Colonist Book Sale. I really want to go, even though I don’t need any more books for myself. Dad’s always looking for more copies of C.S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower series (that way he can lend them out to virgin readers and get them addicted). But I’m going to watch Liv’s recital at 2:30/3, so I have to work around that.

Anyhoo. A busy and unusual day so far. I haven’t even had a pot of tea yet, since I’m out of drinkable milk. Maybe I’ll go to the Shell station and remedy that . . .

#

Clean Dishes Everywhere – Sunday, Feb.19/06 – 11:17 am
Well, everywhere in the kitchen. I love washing dishes. It’s the only time I get to listen to music properly — and I’m all warm from the dishwater, so that’s nice too. I shook my ass to Eminem’s Curtain Call today . . .

I went with Liv, Jessie & Lauren to The Unknown Soldier, a Doors cover band, last night. It was fun — we found great seats, ate a tonne of food that’s bad for us (i.e. onion rings!!!! I love onion rings!!!!) but there was also a plate of veggies & dip so there was the illusion of a well-balanced meal. The lead singer was a lot of fun, although he was clearly disappointed with the chatty audience . . . Liv chugged doubles, and then was shocked back to sobriety by her bill. We left around 11/12, between sets, because Lauren & Liv were restless and wanted to go dancing, and Jessie & I were lame and sleepy. Jessie’s man Jon picked us up and drove me home.

Peter’s Pissed
In other thrilling news . . . Peter’s extremely upset with me these days because we’re out of hay. To demonstrate his disapproval, he:
– leaves poops everywhere;
– chews on inappropriate items, such as the yellow door mat (plastic!) and the pissy newspaper in his litterbox;
– stares at me. (This is the worst one.)
I really need to get some hay today.

Reinforcing the Trellis
In preparation for future windstorms, I want to “tie” the trellis to the rock posts on the balcony. Ideally, I’d like to get some chain, to avoid rain-rot, bunny teeth, and to work with the aesthetic needs of the house. Also, I want to nail on some more supports — to make those triangle-angles that Dad says are strongest. So I need some more wood.

Oh, and I’m Itchy
My skin’s been BIZARRLY (how do I spell that???) dry this past week. I NEVER have dry skin — I sweat too much for that nonsense. And this is Victoria, dammit — ocean humidity and such. So, on the advice of my girlfriends, I have been:
– applying LOTS of moisturizing lotions
– avoiding the loofah in the shower
– avoiding drying soaps
– NOT scratching.

And then I mentioned to Liv & Jessie the other day that I have 3-4 showers per day, because it’s cold in my apartment and I LOVE the hot water, and they looked at me like I’m a moron, and pointed out that there’s a lot of chlorine in that water and that I’m not giving my body a chance to create/use its natural oils.

So I haven’t had a shower yet today, and I didn’t have my pre-bedtime shower last night (which would have been shower #5). I’m going to TRY and survive the day by washing my hair and face only.

I might get smelly.

But I’m willing to take that risk.

And the dishwater made me nice and warm, so I’m not even cold.

Sexy Updates – Rated NNAFR (Not Necessarily Appropriate For Relatives)
Barry’s in Vancouver this weekend, so I’ve got nothing too exciting for you. I have had a number of emails/phone calls from some of my other male “friends” (aka past potentials) but I’m just too apathetic to follow up. I quite like Barry — so we’ll see how this goes for now.

Also, Barry was talking about the “mysteries” of the female body the other night, so I’ve exploited this opportunity to buy him a book called The Lowdown on Going Down — it’s written by a speech therapist and is ALL ABOUT crazy mouth exercises, with also some basic demystification info re: female anatomy. I realise it’s . . . controversial . . . to buy a new snuggle partner a “how to” sex book, but he opened the door, dammit. I’m just walking through.

For anyone out there who is interested in quality sex books, you should know that I am a conneiseur. In my writing classes, the professors always said that the two most difficult subjects to write about are Sex and Death. This is SO TRUE. (Really — try it sometime. And then let me read it, so I can point out to you all the terrible cliches you’ve inevitably used.) So I like to browse sex books and judge how the writers have approached certain subjects, their use of words vs. illustrations, their biases re: female/male stereotypes, their treatment of non-heterosexual relationships, etc. A lot of current sex books are illustrated with sexy cartoons, use urban popculture references (“If you’re willing to spend $7 on a coffee, why not $14 on a quality sex book?”) and are a lot more accessible than older books (that is, they’re funny, open, and there’s less scientific crap that you have to skim over). With this in mind, I’m a HUGE fan of the book I chose for Barry. I read it Friday and it’s brilliant — the best oral sex guide I’ve read to date. I highly recommend it. In fact, I might give you each a copy for Christmas next year.

#

Chugging Hot Chocolate – Monday, Feb.20/06 – 6:48 pm
And the Wackiest Weekend Award goes to . . . Liv!!

I wandered over to Liv’s house last night for supper and walked in on the strangest, most fucked-up, inappropriate phone call EVER MADE EVER.

One of Liv’s buddies from Evolution had called and chatted for a fairly long time about the girl he’d taken home the night before, the exceptional (albeit violent) sex they’d had, blah blah blah. And then he asked Liv out on a date.

Really.

Men constantly surprise me . . .

Barry Musings
Most of you know about my problem re: falling in love with complete strangers I see through the bus windows/etc. So this time around (i.e. meeting Barry and our subsequent dates) I’ve been trying this new thing called “Playing it Cool,” which means essentially that I do everything the same, except without the constant internal monologue and daydreams about moving to Okinawa together. My Crew advised me to keep my heart protected for this one, so I compromised and wrapped it in SaranWrap, which has been surprisingly pleasant — not falling in love after 5 minutes has led to fewer (aka no) anxiety attacks, heartbreak, sleepless nights, and so on.

Sooooo when do I get to unwrap my heart? When do normal people fall in love? When do dating couples get to be excited about each other? This is all new & scary — mainly because I’ve never restrained myself before (internally).

#

Coming to Terms with Wisdom Teeth – Tuesday, Feb.21/06 – 7:35 pm
I think I’ll get them out. I’ve been stalling . . . it just seems so unnatural to have something removed from my body that’s grown in (and isn’t going to kill me).

(Peter just discovered the parsley I put in his food dish — what a happy bunny!!)

Today in the mirror I noticed that my front teeth are buckling. Barry told me about that particular Wisdom Teeth side effect. So I booked a “consultation” with an oral surgeon after my dentist check up this afternoon, and in March I’m getting proper xrays taken, and then I’m getting the bastards scraped out of my gums.

I think this will be okay. Thank god I have a sweet ass dental plan through work.

Food, Food, Glorious Food
And then I went grocery shopping. I have SO MUCH CHEESE in my fridge . . . two blocks of swiss, one cheddar, even half a block of mozzarella . . . and lots of veggies. It was extra funny, buying carrots and parsley, sprouts & salad greens & celery & a cuke, AND A BAG OF RABBIT FOOD. Ha. Irony. Or something.

Also, I did my income taxes last night (started to — didn’t file them or anything yet), and I get a refund of $692. Yay!!! Even better — today in the mail I got another T-whatever form, for the interest I’ve paid on one of my MANY student loans: it’s more than $1000. I don’t know how that works out re: my tax refund, but I like being able to claim it. It’s the illusion of not just sending hundreds of dollars into some vast student loan void . . . I get a sexy piece of paper with an amount on it at tax time! Yippee!

I think that’s most of my exciting news . . . the government tabled the budget today, which means a VERY busy day tomorrow. I’m going to throw itchy-skin caution to the wind and have a hot shower, then go to bed and do Sudoku puzzles until I fall asleep.

Also, Barry’s back from Vancouver now, so I’ll get to see him again soon 🙂

#

Wasted Sexy Undies – Wednesday, Feb.22/06 – 10:26 pm
I THOUGHT I would get to see Barry tonight, but apparently my emails weren’t clear enough because he thought our plans were unconfirmed, which led to an 8:30pm conversation that sums up all my displeasure with men & relationships:

BARRY: “You can come over, if you want.”

Um, no. I’m something to be wanted. Asked for. If a man is away for three, four days he should want to SEE ME ASAP. I don’t do last minute, half-assed house calls.

So I’m still here, at home, watching murders on television and swearing under my breath.

I’ve Stumbled into Heaven – 7:41 pm
Monty Python’s Personal Best is on tv. Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod. Also, I have a bottle of blackberry faux vino in the fridge. All I need is a tall sexy man to smooch.

Worst Experience Ever
I can’t believe I forgot to mention this yesterday — it was a traumatic incident . . .

When I got my teeth cleaned they used a mint-flavoured polish, which is really gritty (I guess it sands the enamel or something??). And then, of course, I rinsed a lot and fluorided and rinsed. But when I was waiting for the bus after grocery shopping I bit down and a grainy chunk of minty polish EXPLODED between my teeth. Sand everywhere. Disgusting foul mint-taste everywhere.

I almost died.

Still makes me shake, thinking about it.

#

PMS + Alcohol = Exercise, Thursday, Feb.23/06 – 8:12 pm
So it got all snowy and grey-skied and snowy/rainy, and instead of going for a walk Barry and I drank beverages at Serious Coffee. (I confess — coffee for Barry, a to-go cup of faux wine for me . . . I was hoping it’d calm me down somewhat.) And mid-coffee date Barry got a phone call and planned something with someone, which I later learned was post-dinner socializing at the Tapas Bar with his friends Dave & Noah.

Which, of course, made it impossible for me to bring up the whole sleepover idea.

(I’m tired of being the sexual one. I think these are Dad’s cursed genes. Certainly, it’s unladylike of me.

Anyhoo.)

And so I said, um, so, I suppose that means you’ll be running off soon, and he said Well, I can do dinner, if you want to.

Yay. I’m a time-killer. Like tv.

So I said, No, I’m not a Better-Than-Nothing time-killer. Also, I’m cranky and I think I should go before I start a fight with you.

And then I went home and drank the rest of the faux vino and danced for almost an hour to Eminem in candlelight.

I’m afraid to turn off the Eminem — I might lose it.

“Lose it.” Ha ha. That’s an Eminem song.

Men are undeserving fuckers (sorry, men) and I’m tired of y’all. Wish to god I could be a lesbian.

Instead, maybe I’ll be a writer for a wee while. I’ve heard good things about that.

(Also — lesson to you men who clearly don’t know shit: Make Yer Woman Feel Wanted and Special, or She’ll Ditch Your Lame Ass.)

#

Coming to terms with PMS – Friday, Feb. 24/06 – 4:32 pm
I’ve been a moody wench all day. I’m trying to repress that, and look forward to a comforting evening with Barry: a walk ‘n’ talk, and hopefully a sleepover if I manage to control my bitchiness.

I have good friends, because they:
1. listen to me whine and complain and moan; and then
2. they tell me to stop it, because I’m just being moody.

This Saturday is Atomic Vaudeville’s launch party for The Qualities of Zero, which will be playing at the Belfry theatre in March. My guests and I will be dressing up for the event. I hope I can still sort-of zip up my sexy faux fur coat . . .

It’s been sunny and not-so-chilly all afternoon, and I really want to wander around outside. Hopefully Barry will be able to venture out before it gets dark.

I’m going to drink some vodka now — my inner wench is starting to pout.

#

Chilly Apartment – Saturday, Feb.25/06 – 7:44 am
No wonder I have too many showers/baths in a day! It’s freezing in here, and I’m in . . . three layers of PJ-wear!!!!

Anyhoo. Drama.

I was still pissy mad yesterday after the whole Barry’s An Insensitive Twit episode, so Liv & Jessie Q took me for sushi at lunch, and then I went out last night with Liv & Lauren. And we danced and danced, and chatted up boys, and gave out phone numbers (well, I did — they were busy canoodling their evening candies), and drank double vodkas, and looked FABulous (as Lauren would/did say). I spent a lot of last night talking with a sexy 21 year old I know from Invermere but keep not recognizing (most of my memories are from his awkward teenage years — Aaron’s a friend of my brother Joe). Aaron’s looking pretty good these days. It’s weird talking to someone who knows my family — I updated him on Hollis’s creation, Evy’s domestic paradise, Joe’s quasi-illegal (age-wise) live-in relationship, Mom & Dad, blah blah blah. Apparently when he was a young’un I showed him how to play The Offspring’s “Come Out and Play” on the drums, and now he’s the drummer in a wee local band. I feel like a teacher, discovering she’d made a difference 30 years after retirement. Heart-warming, truly.

After doling out phone numbers to a birthday boy (who kept telling me how much money he made, that he owned a house, and that he sold drugs for four years — yippee) and a shy little army brat, I was hoping Aaron would lose the family reunion approach and get flirty (I know — young and incestuous, but he’s looking VERY good these days) until he said:

AARON: “Wow, you really look like your dad.”

So then I got hiccups and went home. A fun night, nonetheless.

#

Stumbling Drunken Musicians – Sunday, Feb.26/06 – 9:44 am
Nadia, Michelle and I went to Atomic Vaudeville’s launch party for The Qualities of Zero last night. VERY schmoozy . . . I met all kinds of interesting people, from Britt’s mom Carol to Brad Payne, a Calgary actor and producer of The Headless Cowboy.

Mike Delamont and Rod Peter Jr. helped amuse my galpals with their sexy banter, and after the party (full of quiche and Real Wine) I walked with them until I reached home. (Nadia and Michelle went dancing at Plan B.)

Highlights of the evening include: a tall, single guitar player who was the target of our girly gossip until he got stupidly drunk and couldn’t stand up. We made him sit down, and he sat quietly for awhile, but then stood up and managed to knock over the table of quiches and glasses of red wine. Those musicians . . .

Meanwhile, I met some great, interesting people . . . Paul Anka (that CAN’T be his correct name — I think that’s a folksinger or something) is a wealthy Texan who “discovered” Mike & Rod during the Fringe Festival. He owns two or more condos on the Songhees, one of which is all hardwood floors and a wall mirror where Rod & Mike rehearse daily. The other one is carpeted and lush, and he leant that to the launch party. Mike & Rod are going to New York sometime soon to film a pilot and start a tour. I REALLY want to be part of their laughtrack. We’re working out the technicalities.

I talked for awhile with Brad Payne, who is SuperSmart and (I think) even got all my jokes. Very refreshing. It was especially fun talking to him while the drunk musician was . . . weaving? is that the right word? . . . in his chair. Brad would say something clever, I’d respond, and then the musician would weave a little and Brad would look at me, and say something else.

Also, there was a cheese plate. I LOVE cheese plates. And brownies. And some other food that I didn’t even bother trying because the cheese plate and brownies were so good.

Writerly Talk
Britt reiterated her GENEROUS, WONDERFUL, TEASING offer to stage a reading of one of my scripts in March/April. We were talking about possible scripts, and I’m concerned that Mary/Mary (aka “On the Rag” — hahahahahahaha) is unaccessible to too many people, even though I love it and think it’s brilliant and could change the world if rewritten & presented properly. Alternatively, Britt was talking about developing a script from a starting idea, which would be SO HELPFUL to me, to be able to finish BitterScripts. I love that opening scene, and I want it to go somewhere.

Anyhoo, we will see. Maybe I’ll be inspired by some new idea this month . . . although it’s so hard to think of anything beyond work (coroner’s inquests and director’s reviews and that sort of thing).

And a Little Bit of Boy Talk . . . Just a Little Bit
I haven’t communicated with Barry since the Thursday incident. Here is what I think about that, in no particular order:

  1. This probably means I was right, and he was losing interest in me or had found someone else, and just couldn’t express it properly. So c’est la vie.
  2. He thinks I’m a crazy moody beast after being so pissy on Thursday, and he’s either scared of me now, and hoping I’ll just go away, or waiting for an apology (which he will never get because I was right in reading his “signals,” even if he didn’t mean to send them).
  3. He intends to wait out my mood, which of course is a bad idea since I’ll just get used to not having him around, and my tempermental short-term memory will delete him entirely. And/or I’ll find someone else.

That’s all I’ve got about that. Is it right to think that if a guy doesn’t “fight” for you he’s not worth it anyhow, since he:
a.) doesn’t care enough, and/or
b.) is a pussy?

Men? Any opinions on this one? Your people are SO STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS.

#

Daily Epiphany – Monday, Feb.27/06
I’ve become jaded in love. How the hell did that happen????? I’m the one who has to keep my heart in SaranWrap so that I don’t lose sleep over random men at Chapters. BUT thanks to these past few years of dating pussies + my Mom’s undying affection for that crap book He’s Just Not That Into You I’ve become sensitive to rejection. Which is weird. It’s un-Heather-like. I’m a self-absorbed, cocky wench — I expect everyone to love me. Where did I go wrong????

#

All Dressed Up – Monday, Feb.27/06 – 6:31 pm
One of my most favourite activities ever is getting ready to go out at night. I listen to my favourite music (not just Eminem!) and get to play with my Drawer o’ MAC MakeUp and wear pretty things that are inappropriate for work or weekend brunch.

On a Completely Unrelated Note
I was asked today what the protocol is for those of you who don’t want to be the subject of this website, but who want to spend time with me. I’m not entirely sure. I will think about that one. Fake names and codes wouldn’t work too well, since y’all know who these people are anyways . . . I suppose I could speak in metaphor . . . um . . . I’m just not too great at keeping my big mouth shut. Especially about things/experiences that directly affect me.

Anyhoo, I’ll see how that works out in my mind . . . stay tuned for some really really subtle codes. Or not.

And Hey, “Torrible” the Comment Leaver!
You aren’t supposed to know about The Mint and Syn!!! You’re supposed to be in Toronto, so I can pretend you’re Levi MacDougall, stalking me lovingly. Dammit.

#

Peter Says ” ” – Tuesday, Feb.28/06 – EARLY a.m.
Due to prodding by certain prodders I tried to explain the mandate of this website the other day, so here are some thoughts on that:

  1. My New Year’s Resolution for 2005 was to write everyday, but it’s boring & useless & unmotivating & unsatisfying to write when no one else will read it (unless I refine it and make it publishable/produceable). A website lets me feel that others can access & read my shite, and therefore there’s motivation & purpose to the daily writing goal.
  2. I’m fairly righteous and stubborn in my perceptions of the world. I like generalizations, categories . . . “eldest child,” “Aries,” “small-town girl,” etc. But I don’t think this is a healthy way to see the world, so by presenting these assumptions to you I tend to reevaluate them for myself, and also you get the opportunity to argue with me. Which is unpleasant, but ultimately very helpful.
  3. One day I will write something and you will be in it. This is a rehearsal for that experience: you learn to see yourself refracted through my eyes, and I get to learn how to “edit” myself to accommodate people’s feelings & vulnerabilities without feeling like I’ve “sold out” as a writer.
  4. My life is crazy. ALL our lives are crazy. There’s drama and intrigue and bizarre, fucked-up twists that boomerang out of nowhere. If I don’t record this craziness I won’t believe it in 20 years.
  5. In 20 years I can read this and see how self-involved and narrow-minded I was, and feel super great for having evolved into a better person.
  6. This is helping my writing. Not only through the practice of writing SOMETHING every day, but also because I’ve noticed verbal tics, certain limits in my vocabulary, etc. and being aware of these patterns has made it easier to avoid them, and to write well.

Also, the M Awards are tonight!!!!! I’ll be sitting with my favourite AV folks, and I’ve promised to “booh” Brad if he performs his excerpt from The Headless Cowboy for a THIRD time in my presence.

Little Spitfire

March 2005

Leave a comment

Adventures in Barbie Shoes – March 1, 2005

I wore my new high heels today: 3-inch heels, a 55-degree arch. They are stunning, but I can’t walk in them.

I psyched myself up, told myself it’d be an adventure, a threshold experience (as they say in feminist theory). But I kept seeing myself as one of those women who get their feet bound as preteens so that their toes fall off, or trying to run from a creepy person but hobbled and therefore taking little ineffectual steps.

Advice, when requested, included:

Jessie: “Practice.”

Rachel: “Take big steps and use your hips.”

Mom: “Mince.”

Co-workers: “Wear running shoes to work, then wear pretty, useless heels when sitting daintily at your desk all day.”

I made it until lunch, then managed to walk three blocks leaning on Quinn, then detoured to the mall and bought glorious, cheap, flat-soled black ballet-slipper-esque shoes. I can run from a pervert in these bastards, and (how liberating!) walk by myself. Funny, the things we take for granted.

#

America’s Next Top Model – March 2, 2005

There’s a new theme to this fourth instalment of Tyra Banks’s self-indulgent skinny-fest: “Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing This For Him/Her.”

Ick.

The first story was sad, of course, but I swear there were 10 Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing this for Him/Her – s (PMIYSMWBIDH/H). Thankfully, the first two elimination rounds cut out about half of them.

I can only tolerate so much human drama on a show designed to titillate. (That’s not the right verb, but I love it, so we’re going to use it tonight. Titillate. He he.)

Dog Training – Part 7 of 8
Celeste was being so good and attentive, so I had minimal doubts as to her potential success when Sally the Dog Trainer taught us a new technique.

(I wish I could draw a stick figure here to illustrate – maybe on the weekend . . .)

I hold the doggy treats (aka a piece of dead lamb – sorry, Evy) in my right hand, extended out and away from my body. I’m supposed to reward Celeste (with a “click” from the training clicker – a noise – and a treat) when she looks at me. (My eyes, not my hand with the treats in it.)

So I stood there.

Yep.

And I was getting nothing. No eye contact, no sideways glances to say “Hey, where’s my treat?”, nothing. Instead, Celeste sat and fixated on my hand. I could almost read her mind: Drop the treats, Hand. How can I please you, oh Hand?

Puppies were gazing at their owners, lovingly, and being rewarded. Puppy foetuses, practically. But nothing from Celeste.

Anyhoo, I’m disappointed because this only confirms that I AM NOTHING to Celeste EXCEPT A TREAT DISPENSER. I’m being used. For my dead lamb meat. That is the saddest thing ever.

. . . Except for writing fan letters to a Toronto comedian and getting no response whatsoever. (Titillate. Hehe.)

#

Super Heather Strikes Again – March 3, 2005

Not only did I run around the block, I ALSO did an extra loop around the castle! Yay! And I learned a new thing about running (at least for today, within this specific context of weather, my biology, not fitting into three different skirts this morning, etc.): there is a plateau after the sore-legs, out-of-breath phase!!! And it’s a happy plateau!!! I had flashbacks to when I was sixteen and climbed a mountain with Nate after eating nothing but a granola bar – I felt like I could have gone on forEVER. Adrenalin in a very nifty thing.

I considered doing a second lap, but my writing teachers always said to “leave them wanting more” so I just came home.

Heather’s Marathon Soundtrack
Instead of Eminem I listened to Q’s CD, the soundtrack to Love, Actually. It’s perkier, and more suitable for a spring-y day.

What’s Up for the Warren
The straw is EVERYWHERE. Caramel and Seamus have decided to carpet their porch. In an enchanting – but itchy- pale yellow. I plan to scoop it all up ASAP, since the cold season’s over, before my landlord becomes displeased with me. They sure love it, though – they tunnel and Seamus always has a bit o’straw on his head these days.

#

LETTER TO LEVI – March 6, 2005

Dear Levi,

I mailed your third (and possibly last) letter on Friday. In it, I argue every conceivable reason why you have not written me back or acknowledged my existence in any way. I’ve also included some self-addressed, stamped postcards in case you’re just too poor/lazy to send a letter.

You should know that I am now a fabulous blonde and I will probably meet a wonderful (straight, unmarried) man here in Victoria as soon as the sky clears. Act now! I don’t want to break your heart and be just another sad joke in your repetoire.

Also, there are cheap Westjet flights available now between Toronto and Victoria! Just a suggestion . . .

Love always (or until I move on),
Heather xxxooo

#

What Do Mouths Taste Like? – March 6, 2005

For the 2nd time in 24 years I have a weird situation where one of my tastebuds has become usually large and (due to an increase in surface area) unusually sensitive. This has led me to wonder why our mouths don’t have a flavour: salty, sweet, bitter, sour, or whatever the four tastes are. How lucky is that?! Otherwise, food would always be affected by the default flavour of our mouths.

Or maybe our mouths do taste like something, but we’re each so used to the taste that we think it’s flavourless. Maybe that’s why some people have bad breath – because their mouth has a very distinct and unusual flavour, and we aren’t used to it, so we don’t like it.

Peter and My Hair
Quinn kindly pulled strands of my hair through a cap last night – this requires a great deal of patience – and then I dyed it and now I’m back to my summer blond. Around this time of the year I tend to get impatient with the quasi-summer weather and I want to rush its effects. Anyhoo, The “highlights” encompass a great deal of my hair (thanks to Quinn’s OCD) and so I’m REALLY blonder than I was the day before. I love it. I feel like summer again.

I think Peter likes it too because he jumped up onto my bed last night (as he occasionally does) and bounced around like he was on a trampoline. He also sat on my pillow for awhile – I had to discourage him from chewing on my hair, which he loves to do and which has caused problems in the past – but we bonded overall and it was lovely.

And Everything Else
I’ve had a number of adventures since I last wrote, so I think I’ll quickly sumarize for the record:

Work: I’ve signed on for TEAMS, which is an on-call emergency response group that flies me to emergency situations (i.e. forest fires) and then I help with the public information part.

Physical Well-Being: I bought three yoga videos from London Drugs for a very reasonable $4.99 each (I guess yoga isn’t so cool anymore) and I’m going to incorporate them into my exercise regime (aka running around the block sometimes).

Alcohol and Friends, Not Necessarily in That Order: Yesterday Q and Jessie and I went to the annual book sale at the old Bay building and bought ridiculous quantities of second-hand books. My choices included an extra copy of Carol Shields’s Unless, which I love, and a few other as-yet-unread-by-me Canadian novels. Then we had breakfast at Milestones, and then I had a nap, and then Quinn dyed my hair, and then we went for drinks at the Keg, and then we went to a party where all the men (except Q and Justin) did things involving computers and they were NO FUN AT ALL because they just converged around a computer and mixed music and were boring. Then we left and I went to bed.

Family: I realized the other day that if Evy and Jared have a girl baby, and if they name her Abigail as has been discussed, then her name would be Abby Babitch. Say that out loud.

So I called Evy and left a message telling her this. I hope this convinces them to stick with “Walker.”

#

Namaste – March 6, 2005 – 8:49 pm

I did 25 minutes of yoga today. I’m always surprised that easy stretching and breathing can feel so strenuous. The worst “morning after” pain I’ve ever felt was due to a beginner’s pilates class back in the early days of Fitness World.

I *heart* Huckabees
Q and I rented this and watched it today. Or, I watched it and ruminated on the nuances of existential and nilhistic thought – Quinn had a nap on the couch. It was a celebrity-version of What the Bleep Do We Know?, the same sort of “what is reality?” themes (and/or mission statements).

One character, “Brad” (Jude Law), reminds me of a lot of people I know who are caught up in their daily routines. No time for thinking! It just complicates everything! I must be pretty and charming, all the time, in case you’re watching! Who cares if I’m happy or sad, as long as you think I’m happy!

Maybe that’s everyone? I keep assuming, since I’ve been obsessed with the power of thought and etc. due to my anxiety thingy, that everyone is reading these same books and having these same internal/external/drunken discussions about happiness and what the fuck we’re doing next weekend and why exactly we’re doing it. But then I offer the same epiphany-triggers to friends or family, whoever, and it’s just another book to read or movie to watch or fight to have. I like that about teachers — that they so often manage to find a universal trigger. The best teachers (like Mr. Funnel, my physics/chem teacher in highschool) can jolt your brain on a regular basis, because they are so good at knowing how to make those synapses fire.

I’m sleepy and not being very clear —

Intentions
I have some great pictures to post. Fireworks is tempermental, though, so I will have to wait until it’s happy with me before I can post anything. I have a picture of the M Award Alex made for me, and of the portrait I painted of Peter today, and of my baby bunnies, and lots. Perhaps tomorrow.

#

Sleepy at 7pm – March 7, 2005
It’s too early to go to bed, even for someone (aka me) who woke up at 5:30/6am. I want to stay awake! Rick Mercer’s Monday Report is on tonight, as well as CSI Miami; I have three new books to read in addition to my existing shelf of “in progress” novels; and a 7pm bedtime is really uncool for a 24 year old woman.

But I’m sleepy and my bed is so comfortable . . .

Intrusive Procedures and How I Feel About Them
I had my first ever not-unpleasant PAP test today! Memorable PAP exams have included vomiting, fainting, crying, and a general feeling of unhappiness. My doctor referred me to his wife, another doctor (of course — like she’d be an accountant or something, giving PAP tests), and she is wonderful. I didn’t even take ativan or drink before the exam. And afterward, I went back to Q’s and made us tacos for dinner. (A healthy uterus, and a good little kitchen whore too! What a combo! Order now, while supplies last!)

Peter
As usual, he’s eating. I don’t understand what he likes so much about these new pellets. I’ve briefly considered that he’s politically psychic, because the new brand is “Martin” but I’m not too sure what the implications of that are.

Why I’ll Go To Heaven
I’m responsible for SO many people working in their dream jobs. Let’s all take a moment and appreciate me.

#

Portrait #2: Not So Great – March 8, 2005

I painted me and Q from a picture Q has in a frame above his TV. It’s pretty terrible – Quinn looks like a Muppet. It was exciting, though, to use colours other than the grey and black and white I used to paint Peter. And people are tricky — bunnies are just ovals with appendages. I’m not sure where I will display this distressing work of art, but for now it’s haunting Quinn from his dining room table. When it’s dry, I’ll hide it in the closet, or maybe paint over it like artsy painters do, thereby increasing its artistic and monetary value.

Meanwhile, Peter’s portrait has found an extra nail to hang from in the hallway of my house. It makes me smile when I come home.

Baby Bunnies
I refilled their food dispenser, and only Caramel ran out to check up on me, and for a second I thought she’d eaten Seamus, or he’d fallen off the wall, or something terrible. But no, he was hiding behind the water bottle in the upper story of their cage. So all is well. Except that my sweet male bunny is a wimp.

Canker Sores & How to Deal With Them
Occasionally I get a canker sore — apparently they’re a symptom of stress, although I don’t feel stressed out. There are many ways to treat these icky apparitions. Last night I applied some special numbing medicine stuff, but then my face froze and I drooled all over my pillow. It’s probably for the best that I sleep alone. Tonight I applied salt, which stings at first but has usually led to a speedy recovery. I wonder if lip cancer feels like this. I’m very glad that I don’t use chewing tobacco.

#

This Epiphany Brought to You Courtesy of Government-Funded Counselling – March 10, 2005

Forgive any spelling and/or inarticulate sentences – it’s thursday and martinis are on special at Syn.

My counselor Beth and I discussed the circumstances of when stress first appeared in my life. Namely: money, and a lack thereof at a time when I needed it to pay for university. And then she said, But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.

And it was a freaking Good Will Hunting moment (“It’s not your fault!”) and I realised that I DON’T have to worry about money anymore. I’m fine, I’m self-sufficient, I pay my bills when (or before) they’re due, and I can feel fairly secure in my income level (i.e. even if I lose this job, I’m qualified for an equally-great one). I don’t need to expect family or friends to support me; I can do it myself.

And AHA! that means I can release all the stress, refocus all the energy, and exhale all the worry that I’ve carried around for three/four years about money, and my expenses, and my financial security. Because even though I’m not exactly financially secure, this is about as good as it gets.

Phew.

It’s funny how, even long after the game is done, we still think we have to play by the rules.

#

Entertainment O.D. – morning, March 13, 2005

It’s Tourist in Your Own Hometown time, and yesterday Jessie, Justin, Q and I exploited Victoria. Our adventures included:

Miniature World, The Undersea Gardens (which wasn’t total crap, as we’d suspected), the Wax Museum, Tea at the Empress, and the IMAX.

Future exploitations (due to post-dated perks) include whale-watching and an exceptionally decadent buffet feast at Kipling’s.

Also, we saw Robots at SilverCity last night — it was funny, but strangely unoriginal in parts. For example, the son lives to impress his father, which is “heart-warming” and “admirable,” and ultimately rewarded. Another son exists to please his mother, who is nefarious and scheming – she dies, and he is emasculated.

ALSO
There are SUPER COOL movies coming out soon — including The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. (!!!!!!)

#

Roulette – evening, March 13, 2005

Our Tourist package included $5 for slot machines at the Casino, so Q and I kidnapped Lindsay and went gambling.

We didn’t win anything. It was fun, though.

Also, Q and Celeste and I went walking on Dallas Road, along the beach. SO pretty – blue skies and sunshine – I was warm in a tanktop and skirt. Celeste went swimming and had a MARVelous time chomping on a buffalo bone that Q brought to entertain her.

I’m really sleepy – tomorrow will be busy. So nothing profound to share tonight . . . I’m making a scrapbook in preparation for a summer of adventures, so I might play with that before I go to sleep.

#

Dinner @ the Empress – March 14, 2005

We gorged. Jessie and Q shared Merlot, Justin peeled platefuls of shrimp, and I practiced my snooty British accent. Two hours of gourmet buffet = heaven.

Jobs That We Do, And Even Enjoy
A game! Yay! Mix and match to connect our ideal employment positions with a favourite friend!

a.) accept calls from cranky, angry, and sometimes crazy people, get yelled at, sworn at, and then try to help them.

b.) carry heavy pieces of wood around. Work outside in the winter cold, or in the summer heat, and negotiate with neurotic, cheap rich people.

c.) stare at a computer screen all day, from 6:30am to 2:30 (sometimes 5) pm. Transcribe hour-long talk shows. Email people to tell them they have a crisis they need to deal with.

d.) entertain small, sticky, germy, leaky children.

e.) cater to the whims of a family with no hope of being appreciated.

f.) be the middle-man between politicians and bureaucrats. Send emails to chasten busy people when they miss deadlines.

ANSWERS:

a.) Jessie; b.) Dad; c.) Me!; d.)Evy; e.) Mom; f.) Quinn.

I’m really not being negative, I just find it HILARIOUS that we all hate each others’ jobs, wouldn’t do it for a million dollars, and yet all do exactly what we love and excel at. (Except Quinn, who will one day be one of those politicians . . . )

The Source
I haven’t received my eBay-purchased Johnny Depp movie yet. Hopefully all is well – it’s coming in from the states, so I’m trying to be patient.

Future Events and Excuses to Be Social
Our St. Patrick’s celebration this year is a BYOS party (Bring Your Own Stranger). We’re trying to meet new people. It’s oddly difficult to think of a “stranger” to invite, considering that we live in Victoria.

Protege Goes AWOL
I’ve been trying to help a guy from London, Ontario, get a job with PAB, and we got to the Follow-Up Email stage about a month ago, but I haven’t heard from him since. Very strange. I think he must have died.

#

Soviet Canuckistan – March 15, 2005

I’m watching a very old episode of This Hour Has 22 Minutes. SO funny. I wonder – if Levi and I ever meet and fall in love, will we cuddle on my couch and watch Canadian satire together? How romantic . . .

Random Annoying TV Commercials
I hate the Charmin toilet paper ads. BEARS DO NOT USE TOILET PAPER.

Fun With Income Taxes
I’ve spent a good few hours navigating forms and explanations of forms, and I think I’m done my 2004 income taxes.

Sad News: I’m too wealthy to get a GST refund for 2004.

Happy News: I’m still poor enough to get a refund! Yay! Thank you, six months of unemployment and leftover tuition credits! Perhaps I shall use my sudden windfall for a Greek cruise – or groceries . . .

Things Momma Said That I Didn’t Believe Until Now
I thought, hey! I’m a poor student, I live off of $10,000 to $20,000 a year, and still can afford play tickets and alcohol! When I’m grown up and have a real job, I’ll be RICH BEYOND MY DREAMS!

What Momma said: Your expenses inflate with your income.

Conclusion: Sure, I have new clothes and a sexy laptop and happy, plump bunnies with food dishes full of gourmet bunny pellets, but where the hell did my paycheck go?!

#

Also – March 15, 2005 – 1/2 hour past my bedtime

I forgot to mention that I came home to find my new movie, The Source, in my mailbox! It’s my first ever eBay purchase.

I watched about half of it – up until the point where William Burroughs shot his wife while high on LSD (or something) and playing William Tell. It’s a documentary: I already know how it ends.

It’s a mystery why I love the Beat movement so much. Women were nothing more than sexual objects to read poetry to. The men were open minded about EVERYTHING (race, sexual orientation, art, drugs) except respecting their girlfriends/lovers/mothers-of-their-children. AND YET, every goddamn time I hear a recording of Jack Kerouac reading, or ANYone reading his work, and while watching The Source or reading their books, I feel completely at home. It’s like comfort food, but with sound.

My parents didn’t play me Jack Kerouac’s recordings in utero — my Daddy was only 7 when On the Road came out — so I have no real reason to feel this strongly about a bunch of druggies who shared girlfriends.

Then again, why question this gift of comfort? It’s rare to feel at home in this “mad” world.

New Favourite Quote:

I’m with you in Rockland.
– Allen Ginsberg, HOWL

#

Doing the Dishes w/ Big Bad Voodoo Daddy – March 20, 2005

I want to learn a certain kind of dancing – maybe the Charleston? Swing? It involves music with horns and a great bass line – Big Bad Voodoo Daddy or something like that. And there’s a special kind of dress. Something that moves a lot. I can either dance with a partner, alone, or in a group – on stage or in a club or in my kitchen.

In the Background
I’m tolerating (NOT watching) Open Water, about the couple who went scuba diving and were abandoned by their tour boat in the middle of the ocean. I’m very interested in how the filmmakers intend to keep my interest in a story about a stationary set of characters in a static environment.

They just escaped a pack of jellyfish. She’s crying.

Peter and My Night Away
Jessica had a very lovely party last night, with wine and some people I didn’t know. We wandered to the Brick Yard for pizza and then went dancing at Prism. I stayed over at Q’s, to snuggle with Celeste, and when I returned this afternoon Peter was QUITE distressed. He was sitting on the couch when I opened the door, and just stared at me. Accusingly. I fed him right away. And then I threw out the single poop he’d left on my pillow.

Open Water
Wow, interesting twist! She napped, floating on her back, and woke up with no hubby nearby, just some sharks . . .

Oh, there he is. I hope they tie themselves together now.

Apparently this movie is one mysterious, below the water ache/tickle at a time.

The woman character is obnoxious. He was supportive of her hysteria, sea sickness, sleepiness – and when he started freaking out, she just starts a fight with him! She is NOT a good character. I’m a MUCH more supportive person. Too bad he isn’t stranded in the ocean with me.

SUSAN: “I wanted to go skiing.”

Belated Sharing of an Epiphany
At my last counseling session, Beth the Counselor made another intriguing distinction for me – she separated the “work” and “finances” parts of human life. I think I’m closer to understanding this distinction than some, since I enjoy my work and also consider my non-paid writing to be work, but still Beth’s revelation struck me. Do people really work, even if they don’t need money? If you won the lottery, would you quit your job? Would you do a different kind of work?

And Finally: Tea
The Empress gave us each a box of tea to take home after our shmancy Afternoon Tea experience. I’ve been chugging it on the weekends – it is SO good. Very strong, but subtle — not as chalky as most bagged teas. I wanted tea this morning at Quinn’s and I cracked open his box — how exciting that I have my tea flavour of the week at both the apartments I frequent!

Open Water
It’s night! And there are really big sharks! This is awesome. I’m going to make some tea and eat sandwiches.

#

“Intervention,” Episode 2 – March 20, 2005

This is the 2nd episode – the first one was about a heroin addict and a prescription meds addict. This one has a pill popper and a cutter.

I expected to find some understanding with this new series, but the people are so self-involved! The cutter’s dad keeps talking about Jesus and how she should feel guilty because she isn’t respecting her “temple” (i.e. body). Ick.

Quinn just called during the commercial – we’re comparing viewing experiences. I said I just wanted to smack her and tell her to get out of her head; Quinn said he felt sorry for her. Interesting.

Favourite Part of Any Book Ever Written (And something that I think better explains things):

It happens that I am going through a period of great unhappiness and loss just now. All my life I’d heard people speak of finding themselves in acute pain, bankrupt in spirit and body, but I’ve never understood what they meant. To lose. To have lost. I believed these visitations of darkness lasted only minutes or hours and that these saddened people, in between bouts, were occupied, as we all were, with the usefulness monotony of happiness. But happiness is not what I thought. Happiness is the lucky pane of glass you carry in your head. It takes all your cunning just to hang on to it, and once it’s smashed you have to move into a different sort of life.

– Unless, by Carol Shields

Restlessness
I really don’t intend for this to be a gloomy piece of writing! Sometimes we ruminate on happiness, sometimes sadness, and that’s part of a normal, up-and-down life (hee hee, I’m a puppet! Anyhoo . . .).

So, I’m trying to define a feeling – it’s not sadness, and it’s not . . . BAD, necessarily – it’s restlessness, and my first associative thought is Aritha Van Herk, and her book where the protagonist hires a hitman to kill her (the protagonist — a complicated suicide). How morbidly hilarious.

On Intervention, they just talked about self-medicating, in that the addict KNOWS that a particular something – drugs, alcohol, physical pain – works, and so it’s very very difficult to give up that guaranteed remedy. There’s something so pleasing about a truth, said in plain language. I guess the secret is to replace that negative remedy with a healthy one. The strange thing, though, is that these self-medicating addicts at least have an idea of what makes them feel better. If you don’t already know a cure that works for you, it’s kind of tricky to replace it.

Analogy: the room is dark, and you want to screw in a lightbulb, but you don’t know what the correct wattage, style, whatever, is. It’d be easier if you already had a bulb that worked in the lamp, even if it was burnt out, but if you don’t then you have to buy a whole bunch of bulbs and try them one by one, risking sparks and electrical mishaps. And maybe none of the bulbs fits properly, because it’s an IKEA lamp or something. Frustrating. Makes you want to ignore the goddamn lamp and use a flashlight. Maybe it’s silly in the long term, but at least you can read your book.

#

A Good Start to a Decent Day – March 21, 2005

I got an email from my London, Ontario new friend! Yay! I thought he might be dead, but he isn’t.

The Little Paws Saga
Q “tried out” a doggy named Daisy for 6 days in December, and has been paying for it ever since. For four months, the Victoria Little Paws Rescue Society guy has been dodging Q’s emails and phone calls, lied about the $275 refund check being “in the mail,” and twice stood up Q at an arranged meeting time.

It was a stressful evening, but three and a half hours after this last no-show, “small claims court” google results on the computer, Q contacted the Vancouver founder of the group and all is well (knock on wood). Apparently Rob is a pooper, and a full refund is on its way.

I’m a wonderfully supportive friend. I even made gyoza for snacky snacks!

And Now
It’s past my bedtime and Peter is nowhere to be seen — he might be pouting, since I pet him a little bit this morning and then wasn’t here after work to give him the attention he deserves. What a demanding bunny!

Also
Happy first day of spring! I received my new Tupperware flyer in the mailbox today . . . the new lids are pink and green and yellow and blue. AND I might go to Vancouver this weekend — IKEA! I love kitchen ware.

Last Minute Peter Update
He has shown himself — all is well. Meanwhile, I can hear smokers coughing on the communal porch, and I’m concerned about my babies – can bunnies get emphysema?? Goddamn smokers!

#

Lamb, Asparagus, Mashed Taters – Oh my! – March 22, 2005

Q and I had dinner and discussion at my Aunt & Uncle’s tonight, plus the company of my Gramma. VERY yummy and pleasant, especially since everyone is living their own adventures these days and it’s neato to compare, and see how utterly insufficient solipsism is, because people just keep on DOING things, even when you aren’t there to watch.

Cranky and Sleepy & Grumpy (Another Triad)
Peter has spring fever. That’s my diagnosis. I DID NOT sleep very well AT ALL last night, because he was on my bed, jumping and tunneling and scratching and sitting and bouncing and running. While I do love his shiatsu-style massages, it’s stressful having to worry about waking up with a bunny hair cut (sometimes he thinks I’m hay, or that he has to groom me). I rebelled at work today, watching Rick Mercer’s Monday Report online, taking a leisurely breakfast break at 9, and gorging on sushi for lunch.

Rick Mercer’s Monday Report
I could give you the link, but why bother when we have google?

Rick was at UVic last week, and there’s a clip on his site with interviews of students. Also, there’s a VERY funny “Farewell to Paul Cellucci” (or whatever his name is — the US Ambassador).

#

America’s Next Top Model – March 23, 2005

I’m deathly ill. Contributing factors: bizarre work hours, a shitty sleep Tuesday night, a bunny rabbit with Spring Fever, and indecisive weather, which causes me to walk around with bare legs, spring shoes, and heavy wool coats thereby compromising my internal temperature balance.

Kate and Heather B. are wonderful people. They practically shoved me out of the office (apparently I looked like a lemon . . . ?) and I went and slept for HOURS. Then Q and I had our yoga class, and I tried to ride an exercise bike for awhile after, but my balance is wonky and I’m full of snot, so that didn’t work very well.

Anyhoo, so now, well-fed and hydrated, I’m watching America’s Next Top Model. It’s how Alex and I bond, long distance. I want to have a HOT shower and chug some nyquil . . . I just hope I feel healthy tomorrow! Sickness sucks, especially right before a long weekend!

My House Is a Mess
Yep.

And I Met My Neighbour
I’ve been nervous about the neighbour who lives below me – Peter can be fairly noisy, with his stomping and tunneling.

However, my neighbour also has noisy social gatherings. So screw him.

Menthol is Super
Whenever I get sick I run over to Shopper’s Drug Mart and buy menthol kleenexes. If you’ve never used them — well, you should. They are WONDERFUL. The menthol makes my sinuses go woowee, and I can breathe!!!! Sometimes. The times it doesn’t, I can still huff a little menthol . . .

#

Interesting Perks of Bizarre Work Hours – March 25, 2005

Since I go to bed at 8:30pm, I have to miss the only tv shows I’m interested in: CSI! Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. So I tape them.

THEN, since I’m used to waking up early, I can’t sleep in past 8:30am. So on the weekends I get up, make a huge pot of Liption Yellow Label tea, and watch three hours of CSI. Since normal people aren’t awake until much later, I don’t get bothered by phone calls or weekend plans.

Heaven.

Dr. Heather’s Prescription
I left work at 2 yesterday, caught a bus home, and SLEPT. I woke up at 6:30, ate some soup and crackers, then SLEPT. This morning I got up for tea & CSI at 8:30 — and voila! I feel a lot better. Nyquil is a miracle drug.

And Today
I’m making a Greek dinner for Q and some of our coworkers. It’s been a long time since I cooked Greek food, so I hope I can remember how to do it! I’m tempted to place random stones around Q’s apartment, and then if anyone picks them up we’ll set off sirens and arrest them. Hehe.

(That was a clever reference to current news – if you don’t think I’m funny, buy yourself a newspaper. Gees.)

#

MOST EXCITING NEWS EVER – March 26, 2005

Levi MacDougall’s Comedy Now! special is re-airing tomorrow night (Sunday)!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you are ANYWHERE near a tv, or know how to operate your VCR, you MUST watch/record this miracle of programming. He’ll be on the Comedy Network at 10pm, PST and EST.

I might watch my tape again today, just to celebrate.

Meanwhile

I’ve been ruminating on the nature of friendship. A lot of my “friends” and I have different sorts of relationships, and I find it interesting that expectations, obligations, and levels of effort vary so much.

The Root-Friend
For example: Liv, and Matte. I’ve known each since my first year in Victoria, and I know them quite well (at least, I did at some point). I like to think that I understand some of their primary motivations, history, goals, etc. We accidentally run into each other every few weeks or months, and then stop to summarise the +/- changes in our lives, give new contact info, and (maybe) make actual plans to meet up to fully discuss all the new things in our lives. I’ve met their parents and siblings, and know their hometowns, and am usually somewhat current on their work and romantic status.

The Non-Romantic Life Partner
For example: Quinn. We know each other REALLY well; have met each others’ extended family, have stayed in one another’s family homes, and see each other daily. We have inside jokes and can communicate via telepathy. If one of us is sad or happy or worried, we call each other first, and then the other will support us (financially, emotionally, physically).

The Best Friend(s)
For example: Jessie. We haven’t known each other since birth, but choose to spend a lot of time together and grow together. We share crises and successes. There are still LOTS of new things to be learned about each other, and that’s part of the thrill. There’s a sense that “we’re in this together” and we look forward to being together when (for example) we decide to have babies, etc.

The Others
These are fun, interesting, or kind people that I like to spend time with, usually in a group setting. Jessica, for example, is brilliant and a LOT of fun, but we’ve never had a personal conversation. Justin is a sweetheart, and I like to watch his capeoira performances and eat brunch with him, but he’s “Jessie’s boyfriend” and I wouldn’t know him otherwise. Spencer, my Mormon hair stylist, is a wonderful man to talk to, and a rowdy dancer. I don’t even have his phone number.

The Balancing Act
This is the heart of my personal debate. We are all changing – most of my day-to-day aquaintances are in their 20’s, and so are changing DRASTICALLY in terms of work, finances, spirituality, love, home, personal goals, identity . . . There are exciting, happy, thrilling moments (like when we realise we’re getting paid to do what we LOVE), and there are sad moments (when our relationships are boring or frustrating). There is so much opportunity during these times for jealousy, frustration, self-involvement, neglect. It’s especially hard (and, I think, especially important) to maintain your friendships during this time.

After all, most of us live apart from our families, and our only support networks are the friends we make and keep. Also, our lives are often different from our families. My sister, at 23, is going to have a baby. In Invermere, with her friends, this is a VERY normal and natural step. In Victoria, with my friends, this would be weird. We’re just doing different things right now. And so, having established these networks of people who live with the same “status quo,” we can feel supported and make our deicisions with confidence (or less fear).

(I’m trying to avoid and generalize my concern, but this is my website so goddamn it, I’ll be straightforward.)

The Thing Is
Our friend is getting married, and she’s starting to shed her friendships. This scares me. I’m all for being best friends with your partner, but loving someone in isolation is unhealthy. What happens if the relationship isn’t working? or you need something that your partner can’t provide? Isn’t it a good idea to have friends outside of your “couple friends”? It can’t be fair to the other person, if you rely on that one person to help provide all the emotional, spiritual, intellectual support you need.

A couple-ship (even marriage) makes it even more important to have outside supports. That’s how abusive relationships begin and continue – because s/he has no one to help them get out. I mean no disrespect to Rachel or her man – he’s lovely, too, and I certainly don’t expect them to have an abusive relationship. It just worries me, to see our friend reject her supports when SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO LOSE THEM. She can have it all, her man and her own friendships. And who doesn’t want to have it all?

Conclusion
In my ruminations, I’ve concluded that there is a formula for a healthy friendship. I think this applies to EVERY model listed above:

Energy & Time in Heather’s Friendship Formula is divided as follows:

50% focus on the friend
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minimum)

50% focus on you
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minumum)

However, a TRULY healthy friendship should also include 10-25% of unhappy news (within each friend’s 50%). In order to properly appreciate someone’s successes/luck/greatness, we need to see their failures, fears, and misfortunes. (It’s like seeing the light because it isn’t dark.)

For example: I feel silly telling a stranger or acquaintance that I got published, but if they already know that I’ve been rejected ten times before then they can be happy with me, and share my pride. I’ve watched girl friends go through negative relationships, and then when they find someone who is kind and worthy, I can be happy for them.

This doesn’t mean that friend-times should be a bitch fest. Note the MINIMUM 25% happy news requirement. But, as so many obnoxious people have pointed out, life = happy + sad. If you or a “friend” is only sharing happy news, then it’s mathematically logical to say that you/they are hiding something, and if these people truly are your friends, then YOU DON’T HAVE TO HIDE IT. Take advantage of these silly people who choose to like you! Exploit the Friendship Formula! Bitch and swear and scream about that fucker at work, and then drink a martini and say how much you love your mate. THAT’S what friends are for.

Anyhoo, I suppose this is a long enough ramble. I don’t claim to be a great friend – I’ve cut off relationships because they were inconvenient, and neglected friends because I was enraptured by a new boyfriend. But I think I’m learning. And I think my BRILLIANT formula, applied retrospectively, explains why some of my relationships have worked, and others haven’t.

#

Sleepy and Chilly & Content – March 28, 2005
All is well — please see “Letters to Levi/Writing to Ryan” for today’s more long-winded entry.

#

WRITING TO RYAN – March 28, 2005
Due to various factors, my love affair with Levi MacDougall has ended.

Happily enough, I have now (re)met Ryan and he is a Vancouver rockstar and future Jack Kerouac, and I will be Neal Cassidy (or maybe we’ll take turns – or maybe Burroughs and Ginsberg, since they had sex and Ryan’s very pretty . . . anyhoo) and we will exchange vivacious insights into this mad world and one day publish our correspondence and be the Mad RockStar and SuperHero H-Bomb of our generation.

[A photo of Ryan was posted here on the original blog site.]

For those who are thinking, Hey, that Ryan guy kind of looks like Heather, I say, sure he has lovely eyebrows and he happens to have bleached hair at this particular point in time, and yes I’m an unapologetic narcissist, but he’s also 6’3″ so clearly I’m not merely in love for superficial reasons. Ahem.

That is enough loving for today – I am freezing in this goddamn apartment and I’m going to have a bath.

#

I Don’t Wanna But I Do – March 29, 2005

I’m so close to going for a run that I have proper clothes on (sans running shoes) and my hair in pigtails. But it’s COLD outside!!!

However, CSI is on tape in the VCR, and that provides a mighty tempting reward. Also, Q will return from IKEA later today with my IKEA purchases in his trunk, and I like to brag to him that I’ve run because he doesn’t believe that I can maintain any sort of fitness routine (which is true – I never have – but this time it’s definitely different).

Okay . . . here I go.

. . .

Done. Well, that was thrilling. Also, I bought two BEAUTIFUL bouquets of flowers today – one is white and yellow, and the other is 12 dozen yellow roses. They are all squashed together in a vase on my coffee table. So pretty.

Q is in Richmond today and Jessie was sick at home, so I was all alone for lunch. I wandered around and read greeting cards, which I strongly believe should be a recognised hobby. There should be a magazine for greeting card readers. Once I wanted to write them, but that path wandered away and now I only make cards on occasion. Instead, I hunt for brilliant, subversive bits of Hallmark Art and send them to unsuspecting (or suspecting and tolerant) acquaintances.

#

I Hate All My Neighbours – March 29, 2005

Mainly because the guys below me make me feel like an old lady. I wake up at 5:30 am (ideally) and so I go to bed at a stupid time (8:30pm) and sometimes they have drink and music fests on the weekdays. For example, it is now 10pm. Also – and I SWEAR this is true – they say “fuck” more than I do.

GUY: Fuck fuck fuck fuck – bang bang – fuck!

A direct quote. Honestly. I can hear every fucking word through the old fireplace.

The saving grace is that they play (very loudly) music that I like. I guess I’m not that old. Blink 182, Sum 41 – those baby punk bands with numerals. It’d be ideal, if they’d just shut the fuck up so I could listen to the music.

Anyhoo.

Other neighbours I love to hate are the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who have their hall right next door. They take up all the residents-only parking. Luckily a woman was leaving just as I pulled up in Q’s car, so I didn’t have to massacre the mo’fos.

Ginormous accomplishment of the day
I built a set of drawers. OR assembled. Whatever. IKEA furniture is a lot harder to put together than you might think. I had to use four different screwdriver bits. And a hammer. I will post a picture as soon as I get around to it.

Oh, and, saddest news ever
One of my new green IKEA bowls broke!!!!! I unwrapped them to find one with a massively chipped side. Maybe I’ll mosaic something. It’s a particularly intoxicating green. But still sad – I thought about those bowls a fair bit today . . .

Flashback to a Favourite Disclaimer
It’s gone from the archives by now, so I’ll just repeat that I have a Christmas Eve Complex. I’m like the guy on Swingers who gets a girl’s phone number, then calls within the hour and has a whole relationship with her answering machine until she picks up the phone and tells him to never call again. I GET EXCITED.

This explains a lot: lusting after an unresponsive Toronto comedian; obsessing over green IKEA bowls; and falling in love with a stranger who lives in Richmond. Yep.

The Music is Gone
I’m too fucking proud to stomp on the floor . . . kids these days . . .

#

Sleeping-In is AOK – March 30, 2005

I wandered into the office today at 11:30am, then went for lunch. I love my job.

Sometimes, All We Need Is Love
Independent, Self-Sufficient, Lives-Alone-And-Loves-It Heather is losing it. I’ve finally met that point where I don’t NEED anyone – somedays, I don’t even WANT anyone – in a boyfriend/lover sort of way. But I’ve noticed myself getting bitter! Ick! It’s hard to trust in fate, destiny, yada yada when I’m trapped on a goddamn island of couples and old men and gay boys. I’m in the wrong city.

I’m going to have another drink now 🙂

#

Post-Atomic Vaudeville – March 31, 2005

My alarm goes off in 5.5 hours — I should go to bed. Jessie and I had another excellent girly night, with martinis, steak, lobster tails, ice cream, shopping, cider & wine. Oh, and we went to see Atomic Vaudeville’s 10th episode, “The Passion.” Mike Delamont sang – it was fantabulous.

I’m going to drink a litre of water and go to bed. Bon nuit.

Me and Mike Delamont, one of my favourite Victoria comedians and actors.