TBC 2006

probably

edit: okay, so it's not, like, going to be FOREVER. just for now

nothing's wrong, nothing all that exciting is happening and Eve, I am NOT being incarcerated (thanks for the note of concern, though)

My new crush

Not only is he super cute ---- have you seen the cover of Details? But he just adopted a Puggle. I mean, come on, that is swoon-worthy!

we need to talk

Quite possibly the 4 most dreaded words in the English language, especially when uttered in terms of a budding relationship. Well boys and girls I was on the receiving end of those words last week and am still reeling. Once the vomiting and crying stopped I was kind of able to look at the situation rationally. Here's what happened.

Saturday night: dinner party, fabulous time, the "not just a torrid affair" line was delivered, happy, happy Kathryn

Sunday morning: slightly awkward, but to be expected, still a happy girl

Monday & Tuesday: spoke with him briefly both days, but was okay with that as I knew he was ridiculously busy (we work at the same place, I know what he's up to) and also knew we had plans for Friday so was not worried.

Wednesday morning: got an email from him "I'm not ignoring you, just completely consumed with work and it looks like I will be Friday and all weekend. Will keep you apprised." My reply: 'didn't think you were ignoring me, but thanks for the note. I appreciate it."

Wednesday night: He calls on his way home from work, around 8 "can I come over?" "sure, any particular reason?" (am not all that thrilled as have just come in from a run, am tired and hungry and have a headache) "yes, we have to talk" "about...." "last weekend" "oh, okay then"

He arrives, I basically flinch when he goes to kiss me, knowing what's coming, and he proceeds to tell me that he thought he was ready for this, but realizes now that he's not and wants to go back to where we were before the weekend, you know, just dating and doing stuff and taking it slow. He stayed for a few hours, long enough for me to know that I did not wnat to loose him, and then left. I did not cry in front of him, but sure made up for it once he was out the door.

What did the emotional and irrational Kathryn hear?? "The thought of being with you makes me physically sick".

I know that's not what he said, but that's what I heard.

I asked him why he had started this thing in the first place, it was all him, his idea, his pace, etc. I was (am) a willing participant, but totally followed his lead.

I wanted to see where it would go, was the response. I love spending time with you and doing things with you an being with you, it's just that I can't give you all of me right now (divorce, kids, work, etc.)

Well, babe, here it is. Here is where it has gone. Happy??

I guess I am the most dispensable stress at the moment.

So here we are, in relationship limbo, still friends, still technically "dating", I can't keep food down (though wine works), my house is SPOTLESS, I have redecorated my apartment (it looks fabulous). I don't regret it, I am just pissed as hell at him for making me act like this. It would a whole hell of a lot easier if I could just tell him to fuck right off and get the hell out of my life, but I can't.

So, I guess I'll wait. And give him whatever space and time he needs and trust that he will, in fact, come to his bloody senses sooner rather than later. The only thing I know for certain is that I want him in my life, and NOT as a "buddy".

On a happier note, I have a fun visitor arriving later this week for the weekend. I am sure there will be many amusing tales to tell (if I am permitted to do so ...).

Jill --- romantic comedy enough for you?? I am waiting for the comedy part.

Just when I thought I'd seen it all ....

Guy on a Crappy Tire variety "mountain bike", dressed in jeans, windbreaker and cowboy boots, talking on a cell phone, smoking a joint, all while riding on the sidewalk up Robson Street at lunch time.

Yes, I resisted the urge to hip-check him right in to traffic.

Barely.

not just a torrid affair

"I wanted to be sure that if we started this it wasn't just going to be a torrid affair. I'm in this for the long haul."

Now, isn't that what pretty much every woman wants to hear?

Friday randomness

Okay, I apologize for being so bloody boring -- you can stop emailing me and calling me to tell me this. The "problem" is that I am actually quite content at the moment and I guess my being content translates into my being boring. Sorry. In an attempt at reparation, I offer this:

1. One of our receptionists here at work wears the most God-awful perfume known to man. Actually, I don't think it's perfume at all, more like one of those tacky body sprays from the 80's. In fact, she probably bought it in the 80's, in bulk. Anyway, the smell makes me retch. Up to now this hasn't been such a huge problem because she worked 6 floors above me and I didn't have to be in her "zone" all that often. However, that all changed yesterday. She is now the receptionist down on this floor and is contained in the reception area between 2 doors --- which just serves to intensify the stink. If I complain, they will ban everyone from wearing anything scented and that's not fair. What to do, what to do. Suggestions welcome... (and we haven't even touched on her fashion sense, or lack thereof. Just think big time WT)

2. Arguing with me about what coffee I ordered is NOT A GOOD IDEA. I order the same damn thing every morning and have done so for the past 4 years. Arguing with a girl at 8:20 in the morning before she has had her caffeine is just plain STUPID. I know that I ordered a 4-shot venti Americano. everyone else at your store knows that's what I ordered. don't try and pawn off your lame-ass chai latte on me. I don't drink that. Ever. Tyler (old manager who abandoned us last week for a new store) I miss you!!!!

3. I get to have dinner tomorrow night at the non-date's house -- aside: I think we can now officially remove the "non" prefix from his name -- with another couple, his oldest friends. Now you might be thinking, isn't;t that lovely. Well, you see, he told me a few months ago when we were just starting with the whole non-dating thing that traditionally he went with them sailing in the Caribbean and the like on holidays pretty much every spring and summer. They told him this year that while he was always welcome, as were his children, any other women, though she would undoutedly be lovely, would not be. I don't think he remembers telling me this little tidbit of information. I won't remind him of it until after. Forewarned is forearmed and all that I guess. Will report back Monday if I survive.

Happy Friday!! (and I promise to try and be miserable and therefore more entertaining)

We've come a long way, baby

I was flipping through a book on cross-examination recently (I know, what a damned exciting life I lead) and came across this gem:

The Female Witness

There is an old view that women are impossible to cross-examine and so should be avoided. Myths have grown up over the years about the difficulty of cross-examining women and how any attempt to do so only leads to tragedy for your client's cause.

If the witness happens to be a woman, and at the close of her testimony in-chief it seems that she will be more than a match for the cross-examiner, it often works like a charm on the jury to practise upon her what may be styled the silent cross-examination. Rise suddenly as if you intend to cross-examine. The witness will turn a determined face toward you, preparatory to demolishing you with her first answer. This is the signal for you to hesitate a moment. Look her over good naturedly as if you were in doubt whether it would be worthwhile to question her - and sit down. It can be done by a good actor in such a manner to be equivalent to saying to the jury, "what's the use? She is only a woman."

This passage is from a wonderful text, Cross-Examination, The Art of the Advocate, by Roger E. Salhany, A Judge of the District Court of Ontario. Date? 1988. That's right, not 1888, 1988.

We can vote, right?? And own property, and hold down a job, etc.?? Just checking.

To flush or not to flush

that, dear readers, is the question.


I am getting rather sick of the Sea Monkeys so I am going to leave it up to anyone who cares enough to bother:

flush or not??

p.s. Paula & Sarah - I got your message, a non-dating update to follow (and it's GOOD)

The Ice Queens' Dream Team

Here they are, the Ice Queens "Dream Team" -- we currently sit in 5th place, out of a possible 18, and one of our key players isn't even playing. Sergei, that's okay, we know you will come out with guns blazing by mid-season. We still love you.

To quote the most recent edition of our newsletter:

"Team Ice Queens is further proof that luck, not skill, plays the greater role in team selection. With only two criteria for team selection - the players must be cute, and the players must be air heads - Ice Queens hold down 8th place. [now we are in 5th -- take that!!!] Look for this team to be in trouble when their players all sign contracts to endorse men's perfumes, and quit hockey for good."

B. Shanahan

P. Sykora

T. Selanne

M. Ryder

A. Perezhogin

B. Morrow

Saku Koivu

Ed Jovanovski

Sergei Federov

M. Bell

Biting my tongue, and it hurts

Like it or not, we are all creatures of habit. I take the same bus in to work every morning, hit the Starbucks at Chapters on Robson for my 5 shot Venti Americano at pretty the same time every morning, and then make my way up the street to the office. Others are also on this "schedule" so the same group of us tend to congregate around the bar area of Starbucks awaiting our morning caffeinated beverage of choice. I am having a hard time keeping my mouth shut about something (shocking, I know) ---- a woman around my age complain each and every morning that she is just not loosing any weight. I am NOT one to comment on another's weight, as it is a VERY sensitive issue with me but this may just be the exception.

Now this woman is around my height, 5'9 or thereabouts, but probably outweighs me by at least 50 pounds and makes me feel quite petite. Each and every morning she orders a venti white mocha WITH WHIP. I went to the handy dandy Starbucks calorie counter and that little bevy weighs in at a whopping 650 calories! She has one of these mochas at least 5 times a week (that I know of). I don't care that she drinks them --- knock yourself out, baby. What bothers me is her constant whining about how she's not loosing any weight while drinking them.

No fucking kidding.

Sunshine and Light

So apparently I am supposed to be less negative at the workplace as I am a "role model" and people "look to me for direction" and "take their cues from me". And this is my problem because???? Also, they don't pay me near enough to be a bloody role model for the rabble.

Anyway, I am taking this opportunity to spew forth the bile and bitterness that has accumulated yesterday and today so that I will emit only sunshine and light here at work.

1. why are you still wearing white pants??? It's the fucking end of October for Chrissakes!!!! It's not even like it's a week or two past Labour Day --- Halloween is 6 sleeps away. I know that white is more acceptable these days out of season, but I do believe that this "rule" applies to winter white, more cream, and to textiles like wool and silk, NOT cotton and linen.

2. personal hygiene; I am a HUGE fan. Buy some deodorant, please. If you can't afford it, go to a shelter, they will give you some for FREE. Listen, you stink and I can't be anywhere near you without retching.

3. open toed shoes (see 1, above). If it's Saturday and not raining or snowing and you are at the beach or kicking round the coffee shop in loungewear, fine (sort of). But at work? With a suit? Or worse, nylons???????? 'nuff said

4. I don't care that you are a "foreign student". You are in Canada now. Get with the program.

5. I don't get paid enough to put up with your crap.

6. you are NOT more important than me. or anyone, for that matter. get over yourself.


Okay, sunshine and light for here on in ......

The Pink Birkin

So I could try and pretend that "stuff" really doesn't really mean all that much to me but that would really be ONE BIG FAT LIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love nice things. And nice things tend to be expensive. As one person recently pointed out, I have champagne taste on a water budget (and tap water at that).

My latest obsession? The pink Hermes Birkin bag. (this means admitting of course that I watch the Gilmour Girls religiously, and I'm okay with that). It can be mine for a mere $29,500 (USD) on ebay. It will go fabulously with the Manolos I plan to one day own, at a far more reasonable $749.00 (CDN).

You see? Expense is all relative.

Maggie at Camp

My sister has taken Maggie with her to Camp Brakendale for the week, leaving me footloose and fancy free (though I miss the little monster). She called last night (my sister, not Maggie) with a report on her first full day.

Now my sister's dog, Trudy, is governed by food. However, she is also very lazy. Maggie, on the other hand, is far too clever for her own good and motivated by the challenge. My sister keeps Trudy's food in an old firewood box that has a hinged, not latched, lid. Trudy is well aware that that is where the food is kept, but not that she is very able to get at it whenever she chooses. This set up works for them.

Enter Maggie.

Last night my sister came home from work to find Maggie holding open the lid to the food box while Trudy was chowing down. Paula said the image was priceless, and was upset that she couldn't capture this true Kodak Moment.

The lid is now being weighted for the duration of the princess's stay.

Oh, and much do you think my vegan sister is enjoying feeding Maggie her nightly dinner of raw chicken carcass???

Train wreck, again

Yeah, so it seems I've dropped 10 pounds (1 and a bit dress sizes) in the last 2 weeks, can survive on 3 hours of sleep and night and need nothing more than 8 coffees a day and the occasional glass of wine to keep me alive. Oh, and I am jonesing for a cigarette like you wouldn't believe, but I WILL NOT give in to that temptation.

Why? Yup, that's right, the Non-Date.

We went to a wedding together yesterday --- an old friend of his second. We had a lovely time. I had a great outfit. He was the perfect date. He referred to us as "we" throughout --- as is "we'll have them over for dinner" and "we'll get together with them when I get back from holiday". It felt great. I felt confident and fabulous and all that stuff.

It was a noon wedding and so we left by 4. We then went for a long walk at the beach in the pouring rain (we changed out of the party clothes), then back to his place for tea, then he made us dinner and we talked and talked and talked about EVERYTHING except what I needed/wanted to talk about. There were a few opportune times when it would have been perfect to bring it up, but his ex-wife called 3 times. He asked me each time if I minded if he picked up. Of course not, it could be about the kids or something equally important. (it was the first time; the second and third were about stereo/video hookups). That weirded me out, so I backed off. He drove me home at 11.

I think I maybe got to sleep at 4 a.m., up at 7 and at the office by 8:30. I look like HELL.

Here's the thing: he is going to Mexico Wednesday morning for 2 weeks (the trip I am not going on). I thought I could wait until he got back to ask him where I/we/he stands. I can't. So, I emailed him about an hour ago to see if he had time for me at some point tonight. haven't heard. I feel like I am going to throw up.

When I am with him I am happy and content. When I am not, I am a raving lunatic. This is very new to me, the control and emotionally stunted freak that I am.

Happy, happy times in my life at the moment.

Fishing

Can someone please explain to me the fun in fishing for salmon while they are trying to get their tired asses up the river???

I get fishing in general. Really, I do. I don't eat the things, but whatever. What I don't get are the people who line the Capilano River during the spawning season trying to catch the suckers. Where is the sport in that? These fish are TIRED. And BEAT TO SHIT. Have you ever seen a salmon after it has made its way up a long river?? NOT PRETTY.

The whole thing kind of reminds me of the assholes who feed the deer all summer long in their backyards and the day hunting season opens, BAM! Dead. Nice.

Happy Friday!

Sea Monkey Photos part deux

okay, well here are the long-awaited photos of the creepy Sea Monkeys. You'll have to look real close, as they are pretty small and hard to capture with the camera we have at our disposal. I am also sad to report that the Sea Monkey population seems to have decreased markedly over the long weekend.

Those little white things floating around? That's them.

George and the monkeys

Up-close with the monkeys

That's the view from my, unfortunately, temporary office

That's it!

Sea Monkey Photos - the set up

Here are photos from the "creation" stage of the great SM adventure (to quote MM). Due to technical difficulties photos of the actual creepy critters won't be available until next week

preparing the water

the monkeys keep George (was Stroumboulopoulos, now Clooney) company

The Official Executive Sea Monkey Kit

(pretty fancy, dontcha think??)

Now, wasn't that worth the wait?????

Les Singes du Mer*

I don't know about you all, but the mythical seamonkeys have always intrigued me, so just imagine my glee when I found the Executive Sea Monkey kit kicking around the office! After careful reading of instructions, a quick email to the all-knowing MM who subsequently directed me here, I was set to go --- just add water ....

For the first few days, NOTHING. We watched, and watched and then watched some more. Otherwise highly intelligent people dropped by with increasing frequency to check on the little guys. NADA. The I took a day off from work and voila, they live!!

The first week of life was really weird. There seemed to be hundreds of them and they moved about the "tank" in what appeared to be computer-animated rigidity. We established our feeding schedule, Monday mornings, and watched them grow.

And grow they did.

And cannibalize they did.

There are now markedly fewer than when we started, but those that remain are growing rapidly. And now they look weird. And creepy. And kind of gross, to be honest. But still they grow. And still they attack visitors. In light of the increased traffic through my office I have updated the George Clooney photo (currently using the one from the cover of Vogue, Men's edition). This has been noted and appreciated.

I tried taking pictures of them but they are not very photogenic. Which is probably a good thing, 'cause they really are creepy looking.

Our next adventure, I think, will be introducing Feathers, one of the boys' Siamese Fighter Fish, to our little monkeys of the sea. We will also probably be taking bets as to how long it takes him to clean out the colony, so ....



*Sea Monkeys for you non-francophiles

How to tell you are getting old, Part I

Yesterday morning I gave my old Sex Pistols t-shirt to a friend's teenage son for his Halloween costume and told him to keep it as chances are I was never going to wear it again. He was thrilled. (not to mention impressed that I had an old Sex Pistols shirt)

I had the Kelly Clarkson* cd in my discman last night on the way home from work (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I should have an iPod, that's coming, but until then I am happy "kicking it old style" with the discman) and was totally loving it.

Then it hit me --- I have gone from The Sex Pistols (Violent Femmes, The Cure, The Cult, The Smiths, etc) to Kelly Clarkson. I AM OLD. SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When did that happen?????

When I got home I put Green Day on REALLY LOUD and felt better.

*shut up --- it's good and you know you like it too

It's all about the follow-up

Disclaimer: I was reading back and I seem to be obsessing over my budding non-relationship A LOT. I am sure you are bored of it. Well, too bad. My blog, my contents.

Okay, so back to Friday ...

Tamara and I decided that we didn't want to go the the store launch thingy, so I told non-date that actually I was free if he still wanted to do something (have I mentioned that earlier on Friday I insulted his clothing in a very loud voice in a rather public place? The hurt look on his face will not soon be forgotten ... and to you men out there, pleated, cuffed khakis teamed with a beige on beige plaid/checked shirt with brown shoes and a brown belt is not a wise choice. I'm just saying.) Anyway, after thanking me for basically saying that hanging out with him was better than nothing, he took me our for a lovely walk to the beach and then a great dinner at a fabulous restaurant that I had never been to.

Then we walked back to his car and about halfway back I realized that he was holding my hand. (the appropriate sound now is "aww!!!")

We got to his car, I grabbed my stuff and he had to go to the airport to pick up his ex-wife. Yes, I am well aware that that sounds like an awkward situation, but it's not, really.

When I got home there was a message from him on my phone: "just calling to tell you that I had a lovely, lovely time tonight and I really enjoy spending time with you and sorry we had to cut it short. Have an excellent weekend"

Yes, I got all tingly and grinny and called him back while I was out walking the dogs and we had a lovely chat and well folks, I do believe we have the clarity I was looking for.

The hand holding was nice, but what clinched it was the follow-up call.

(oh, and apparently my wardrobe comment really struck a nerve and we will be paying Banana Republic a visit next week. I am really good at spending other people's money)

Just a trainwreck, waiting to happen

My life or lyrics to a Sarah McLachlan song? At the moment, both.

I have had a very turbulent week:

Monday: it was like "all aboard the stupid bus!" time and I had to deal with each and every passenger, patiently and nicely. And I felt like crying, constantly. The non-date was helpful in that he put up with my end of day venting, but not with much else.

Tuesday: more even-keeled

Wednesday: totally great for the most part

Thursday: emotional rollercoaster, too much late-night brain activity, resulting in 2 hours sleep (between 4 am and 6 am) --- thankfully CSI is on pretty much all night

Friday: just had a very weird conversation with the non-date, and any sense of confidence that I thought I had as to where this whole thing was going seems to have evaporated. Am thinking I might actually have to get good and drunk and just ask him where the fuck his head is.

Which brings me to the trainwreck portion of this program.

*UPDATE:

this is what happened to me opn my lunch hour:

I called a perfect stranger "fuckface" when I mistook him for someone else to whom the term"fuckface" would have been seen as a loving one; almost got my teeth kicked in by a drugged-out panhandler and came too very close to getting my nose pierced. Yes, I am still (amazingly) in one piece and then ...

okay, so things may be turning out better that anticipated, given our exchange earlier today. Back in control, feel like I am reading things right, just turned down an invitation to go out this evening as am already busy with the lovely Tamara, but confirmed an invite for next Thursday for Port & Chocolate. Feeling oh so much better about things now!

Bon weekend mes amis!

The Puggle!!

This is Decker. He is coming today to stay with the Princess and me again, thus supplementing my penchant for cashmere and hers for walks. Now I am not normally a small dog person but Decker is definitely the exception.

My sister's felonious past

Some have expressed surprise that I would accuse or suspect my sister of stealing TP from me. Let me give you some insight ...

Bank robbery: many, many years ago we all used to bank at the same bank on Greene Avenue. I opened my first account with the contents of my piggybank when I was about 5 or so. Everyone at the branch new us, paperwork was eschewed and it was not unusual for one of us to do the banking of the other (this was long before the advent of the ATM). However, imagine my surprise when I went one day to make a sizable withdrawal to be told that there were insufficient funds. Apparently my darling sister had taken it upon herself to take a "loan" direct from my account. All banking privileges regarding my account were quickly revoked.

Petty theft: this one ranks among her most embarrassing past transgressions; she "borrowed" the money left out for our cleaning lady. From that day forward neither her laundry nor her room got any attention from the lovely Sarah. She is aware that she will be spending quite a bit of post-living time atoning for this one.

B&E: more than once she has arrived at my office wearing my clothes, having stopped by my house and having forgotten her key (of which she has at last 2 copies), broken in through my bedroom window (which is frighteningly easy) and helped herself to the contents of my closet. And fridge. Though when she does take stuff from the fridge she leaves a note: "took your hummus. yummy"

Petty Theft II: we were at home (my parents'), friends were over, I offered to make the run to the local dep for supplies like cigarettes, chips, etc and took orders. Including hers. I said don't worry about money, I have some in my wallet, we'll settle up when I get back. It was winter. In Montreal. And I was walking. Which was fine, because it was a nice snowy night out and I had to walk the dog anyway. That is until I got to Macs, had everything on the counter, rung up and ready to go when I went into my wallet and guess what? IT WAS EMPTY! Guess who emptied it? That's right, my sister.

All that is in the past (except for the recent clothescapade, but that's okay). So you can now see why it is not out of the realm of possibility that I might think her capable of pilfering the crack crack.

Meet the children

So I spent Saturday with the man I am not dating and his son. And then his daughter joined us. I survived to tell the tale.

According to the son I am, like, dad's coolest friend. How did I achieve such an elevated status so quickly? Well, I knew the best place to get supplies for Halloween costumes, knew that spray starch was the required element for producing the perfect mohawk (again, part of the Halloween costume and I am not so sure dad was impressed with my imparting this info) and, above all, I have skied on some very impressive, apparently, skis (due solely to the fact that my cousin was a Salomon rep and would let me use whatever demos he had handy and so I got to try some pretty nifty stuff. However, that said, I was not all that impressed the extra-wide, dual tips mainly because they are not designed for speed, and I was racing.) However, they did impress son and I'll take that.

We actually had a lovely day --- Stanley Park, coffee, lunch on a sunny patio --- where I almost died, but caught the errant shrimp in my salad before it could do much damage to me. Then daughter came to meet us and my first glimpse of her and she of me was from across the street where I got the very distinct "who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing with my dad" once over. I have never experienced that before. Wow. Anyhow, face to face she was very pleasant and only made one jabbing comment in the car along the lines of well "where do you live?" as if trying to suss out if I was after her dad for his money (I'm not, duh).

Well, that obstacle has been tackled and I emerged relatively unscathed, save for the shrimp incident, but I'll live.

And again, a boy thinks I'm cool =).

Reality TV??

Who was the braniac who decided that showing the live news coverage of the JetBlue emergency to the passengers on board the bloody plane that was having the landing issues would be a good idea???

dumbass

Charmin --- crack for your posterior??

As I was changing the roll of TP on Sunday (a detail from my life you probably don't need to know, but tuff, you're reading MY blog) I realized that it had lasted a whole week. Now why this is important is because two weeks ago I actually ran out of TP, which was weird. However, it was a Friday morning and I live alone (Maggie doesn't use this particular supply) and knew that I would buy some on the way home from work, so wasn't all that concerned (file running out of TP as just another reason why I need a wife/personal assistant to take care of these details when I am preoccupied with other stuff, like work, non-dating, etc).

Anyway, my sister and a friend dropped by my place to drop off her dog and use the facilities. Finding no TP she did the only other logical thing, used wrapping tissue, thus successfully clogging my toilet. Unable to find my plunger (which is kept under the kitchen sink) she closed the lid, shut the door and left me a note. Imagine my joy when I got home from work, new package of Charmin in hand, to find her note and the clog.

This was over Labour Day weekend and she spent the 3 days with me in the city. The following Sunday, I realized that I was yet again out of TP --- WTF??? 4 rolls in 8 days? That just seemed wrong. This is why I was aware that one roll had lasted me, alone, an entire week, thus causing me to come to one of two logical conclusions possible in this scenario: 1. my sister uses A LOT of TP or 2. she is stealing rolls to try and cut costs. Now she did mention that she found the Charmin especially soft and cushy. You see, she is far more ecologically minded than I am, basically a pinecone eater who wears Prada, and so her TP is of the rough, unbleached, safe and friendly for the environment variety. The Charmin is kind of like crack for her butt. I am thinking she stuffed a roll or two in her bio-degradable, reusable and recyclable bag when she went back home ....

All of this caused me to think of "The Bad Girl's Guide to Getting What You Want" by Cameron Tuttle. Some highlights:

The joy of a bonus

One roll of toilet paper: $0.59
One heist
of toilet paper: $11.21
One year of toilet paper heists: $134.52
Knowing
you'll never have to buy toilet paper again ... priceless.

Pilfering toilet paper like a pro

Sure you can swipe one roll of toilet paper every day for the rest of
your life. But where's the challenge in that? Where's the thrill? Where's the volume in the volume discount? Besides, it's kind of a buzz kill when you reach into your bag after a few drinks at happy hour and a roll of TP flies out along with your business card and unrolls across the floor, stopping at the feet of the hot guy you were hoping to hook up with. It's far more fun to challenge yourself and stage a monthly TP heist when you're sure you'll be going straight home.

One roll under your hat.

One flattened in each bra cup.

One tucked into each arm pit.

Six to eight threaded on a large belt around your waist under a coat.

One (wrapped in foil) on a long silver chain around your neck.

Two to four stuffed down your pantyhose if you're wearing a skirt or in
your kneesocks if wearing pants.

Two to four (depending upon shoe size) taped to the soles of your shoes, transforming them into temporary platforms.

So my question to you is this: Have you ever stolen TP??

To surf or not to surf, that is the question

Last week I was at the receiving end of a rather light-handed invitation:

"I still have that extra spot booked at surf camp. Why don't you come?"

I was then sent the URL's for both the camp and flight information.

Reasons not to go:

1. can't afford it
2. the thought of spending the better part of a week in a bathing suit in public fills me with a huge sense of dread
3. passport out of date (though could get one in 5 days for a fee)
4. can't afford it
5. not clear on the sleeping arrangements

Reasons to go:

1. hello, surfing in Mexico for a week
2. away from here for a week
3. not clear on the sleeping arrangements
4. it could quite possibly be very fun and would make for a great story

So, this is my dilemma. The sane and rational side of my brain says: "Under no circumstances do you go to Mexico to surf camp with that person at the end of October". The fun and reckless side says "WTF ---go, you idiot!! You can find the money, you have the time coming, you're over 18, what/who will it hurt??"

Currently the sane side is winning.

Super Maggie to the rescue!!!

I know this may come as a shock to you dear readers, but sometimes, just sometimes, I'm not so bright. I am also in a huge state of denial over the fact that summer is drawing to a close and the days are getting shorter and it is, therefore, getting darker earlier. Combine those two factors and you have what happened to me last night.

Got home, traded the suit for my dog-walking duds (I actually wore REAL SHOES to the office for the first time in like 4 months!!!!) and off we set for the woods. I had some stuff to mull over (like an off-handed invitation to surf camp in Mexico this October which will be discussed in another post) so decided to go for the long version of the walk. Mutt Face was thrilled, natch.

Half-way back I noticed that it was far darker than I was comfortable with it being and I hadn't had the forethought to bring my handy-dandy and very fashionable Petzel (halogen hiking headlamp for the uninitiated). D'oh!!! Oh, well, no choice but to carry on as I had to get out of the woods somehow.

All of a sudden I heard a very loud woosh-woosh coming from somewhere and then it was on me --- AN OWL! Attacking my ponytail!!!!!!! HOLYMOTHERFUCKINGSHIT!!!!! I am absolutely terrified of flying things, even, to quote young Art Lad, common-fucking-finches (Thomas did not use "fucking" - my artistic licence). This was my worst nightmare come true. HOLYMOTHERFUCKINGSHIT I am going to die right here in the woods at the talons of this owl.

And then, SUPER MAGGIE TO THE RESCUE! She was up ahead of me but heard my pathetic screeching and came charging back, in full bark mode --- snarling and snapping and barking like there was no tomorrow. That damn owl took off but quick.

I eventually stopped shaking and leashed Super Maggie so as to keep her by my side in case that pesky bird decided to come back for round 2. She got extra yummy treats and lots and lots of tummy rubs when we got home.

Good to know I can count on her in an emergency .....

Whoever did this video is genius, seriously

Now I am not a fan of boy bands, my love for Robbie Williams notwithstanding, but only since he left Take That, but the new Backstreet Boys video for "Just want you to know" is frickin' fabulous!! Seriously --- perhaps the best mullet wigs I have ever seen, the clothes, the hair, the style, the guy holding the girl's hair back as she pukes in the parking lot, the toilet paper rammed up the driver's nose (Kevin??), Nick Carter's facial expressions as he sings along in the car, the way the whole damn thing is filmed -- I am so loving this video. It comes straight out of Heavy Metal Parking Lot. I saw Aerosmith at the Worcester Centrum in 1985 or 1986 and 95% of the crowd looked just like this rag-tag crew. They have every detail down and it is riveting. Trust me, start lurking around on MuchMusic or MTV or whatever your video station of choice is. it is very much worth it.

That's all

Further Adventures in Non-Dating

The next non-date was to be a Saturday hike up the back of Cypress Mountain with Maggie. "I'll pick you up around noon" was how we left things Friday.

Yippee!!!!

Saturday morning I took the mutt out for an early run and then brush her to make her even more fabulous than she already is (and we have established that she's fabulous, right??). Then I showered and shaved (??!!), buffed and puffed, moisturized, etc. Okay, I'll stop now. Suffice to say I was looking and smelling quite delicious. I had already agonized over what hiking ensemble to don so that I would look as fetching as possible, yet still be able to pull off the "this is what I found on the floor and what we always wear when trudging through the back country" act. I was positively giddy. Hair was next --- you know the look that takes ages to achieve but looks like you just rolled out of bed and have every intention of going right back there? Yeah, that one. But I never got there.

The phone rang. It was the very sheepish and pathetic sounding non-date. Bailing. Seems his brother's bachelor party the night before had got the better of him. (now I knew that this was a possibility, but had hoped he might have been sensible the night before, but no)

I was all cool and nonchalant and told him that Maggie would give him a much harder time about cancelling than I would, blah, blah, blah, you're too old for this crap (he's 44), blah, blah. We'll chat next week. Fine.

DAMMIT TO HELL, ANYWAY!!!!!

No matter, I called Tamara and off we went to a matinee of "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" (not bad, but not nearly as scary as anticipated or hoped for).

FF to Monday - When I got back to the office from lunch, one of the girls stopped and asked if it was my birthday (May 30 for those keeping track. Gifts are, of course, always welcome). Nope, why? Well, there's a bouquet of flowers on your desk so I thought ....

Yippee!!! Must be "sorry about bailing Saturday, I'm a dumbass, let's go for dinner so that I can wine and dine you in the way you deserve" flowers!!!!

Nope.

Which is not to take away from the flowers, the person who sent them or the sentiment behind them. They are lovely and it was very thoughtful and certainly brightened my Monday.

3 weeks ago my life was nice and simple and uncomplicated. Now I am all edgy and fluttery and uncertain. Basically NOT IN CONTROL and this is not a way I like to be.

So, for the moment, as far as I am concerned, and with some exceptions, and you know who you are and know that I love you madly:

MEN SUCK!!!!!

More Gratuitous Maggie

again, I know I am biased, but please --- SHE'S FAB-U-LOUS!!!

(photo courtesy of Marcus)

OBGYN - OMYGOD!!!!!

PARENTS' ADVISORY: THE FOLLOWING IS NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH OR Y-CHROMOSOMED CHALLENGED WHO FAINT AT THE MENTION OF "WOMAN TROUBLE"

A friend's last pap experience:

She's on the table, legs spread, doc about to do his thing when the window cleaner appeared in the window directly opposite the exam table. End of exam.

Stalking Hugh Jackman

The perks of having this new office are endless ---- X3 is setting up shop directly under my window, so I can work productively (!!) and stalk Mr. Jackman all at the same time.

Ain't multi-tasking grand??

Happy Friday!

(sunny disposition has, apparently, returned)

Sunny disposition creeping back ....

Okay, so the moods improving, or maybe I'm just too bloody tired to care anymore. No matter, I am no longer having homicidal urges (though working in criminal law does have its perks --- I know how to make it so that I would get off ...) and that's a most excellent thing.

Making me smile today:

• quite possibly the best looking man I have seen in a long while (and this includes the non-date) walking past past me when I arrived at work this morning, at 7:30, and yes, I was caught staring
  
• that all this overtime is going to afford me some nifty new duds for fall
  
• my friends keep sending me silly things via email to help cheer me up --- THANK YOU!!
  
• it is still sunny and I have this fabulous window in my temporary office digs so I can bask in all the sunny goodness, not to mention watch the freaks at the courthouse fountain, which include shirtless guy (not a happy sight) and the guys who seem to spend endless hours and days cleaning the fountain, and the sea gulls and geese hang out in the water
  
• another possible non-date is in the wings
  

And on that note, to satisfy Wade's astute curiosity as to how it was that my sister met him, you see, Paula met me for lunch last Monday and on our way back to the office we ran into him (kind of, anyway) so they met and her take was as follows: very attractive, excellent handshake (a MUST), good smile, pants were a tad too high (we can fix that) and he did the arm touch thing a couple of times (I did not notice that) and I didn't flinch, which for me is saying something (one might say that I have large personal boundaries and tend to recoil when someone goes to, say, hug me or something). An overall positive assessment, though being divorced with 2 teenage kids is just slightly intimidating and on my "list" of criterion of what NOT to look for when dating someone, or not dating someone as the case may be.

and it's my mum's birthday today -- Happy Birthday Mum!!!

Absolutely foul

is how to describe me right now. I am feeling so angry and pissed off and edgy and mean that I pretty much want to smack anyone and everyone who crosses my path upside the head. There are permanent tooth marks in my tongue.

I have been feeling this way for several days now and am done with it. I want my normal sunny disposition back. I hate feeling this way. I can find no cause or reason for my mood other than I probably really need to take a holiday and don't currently have the time or resources to do so.

What I really want to do is go hide somewhere with some excellent trashy novels, drink copious amounts of wine and chainsmoke 18 packs of cigarettes.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

To the pound!!!!

I worked most of yesterday, Labour day, and it was a welcome refuge from the chaotic hell that was my home this weekend.

Leaving the office Friday night I was eagerly anticipating my first "down" weekend all summer --- no weddings, parties, onerous obligations, NOTHING that I was required to do or attend. Sheer bliss. Yeah, whatever.

Got home Friday to find a note from my sister: Sorry, toilet plugged. SHIT (literally). That fixed I walked the mutts, 3 of them, fed them and then settled on the couch with a glass of wine and the remote control.

Paula was at Pearl Jam with a freind and they were both to stay chez moi, so I camped out on the couch. Woke up at 3:30 and no one was home yet. At 4:45, however, Paula arrived home, escorted by her bf, (who promptly left) and she then spent the next 3 hours of so dashing to the loo. it seems there was an abundance of dope being smoked at the concert, not actually by my sister, but in her general area, rendering her very, very ill. [weird Vancouver aside: if you dare light a cigarette, an angry mob descends upon you like you are the devil himself. but want to spark a fatty? go for it!!!] Thank goodness I fixed the first toilet problem ....

Saturday was pretty uneventful --- Paula spent most of it, save for running the 12 k to the West End to fetch her car (have I mentioned here yet that she is slightly mental??) on my couch napping with the puggle, a girlfriend came over and we all watched movies -- suprisingly I can highly recomemnd "The Upside of Anger". Kevin Costner didn't suck (!!) and the relationship between the mum (Joan Allen) and her 4 daughters was fabulous.

Then came Sunday.

My big plan was to meet the girls at 11:30 for brunch. That's it. Paula left earlier than me to meet up with the bf and his brother and gf so I was left to, again, walk to mutts. This should have been a no-brainer, and it was, until Trudy, Paula's dog, picked up the scent of bacon. I spent the next 1 1/2 hours searching for her in the GD pouring rain. She turned up about 6 blocks from my house.

Way behind schedule, I eventually made it to brunch and returned home

1 1/2 hours in the pouring rain looking for her yesterday morning (precious had taken off from the canyon, up the embankment, across Cap Road in search of bacon) and another 45 yesterday evening spent roaming the BP's.
BRAT!!
then Decker stole a chicken right out of Maggie's dish (bigger than him and he does not eat raw) and proceeded to eat it (and loved it and was none the worse for wear)

and Maggie rolled in a vast amount of bear shit

and Paula plugged my toilet Friday afternoon, which meant I had to "fix" it when I got home that night, and it was not pretty, then she arrived home at 4:30 a.m. from the Pearl Jam concert and spent the next couple of hours hurling in my bathroom (too much dope at the concert, though she was not smoking any)

my planless, eventfulless, peaceful "all about me" weekend was most definitely OFF

The delicate art of non-dating

Tuesday

A friend calls and asks me to join him for coffee. I go, we sit, we chat, he says that he knows I enjoy good food and wine (like, duh) and am I free Friday night. Yes, I answer. My friends who house my wine (he got the contents of his cellar in the divorce but has nowhere to keep it) are having a dinner Friday night, would you like to go. Sure, I say, sounds lovely. I didn't think anything of it. Until I got back to the office. Then I was all like "Is this a date?? and if it is indeed a date, how do I feel about it being a date? do I want it to be a date?" I called an emergency lunch with a girlfriend, explained what happened and she said "yup, it's a date; maybe" Well, great, now what? I had best prepare myself for a non-date-date, at another couple's house who knew him with his ex-wife. NO pressure there at all, nope, none.

Friday

Friend drove me home from work and said he would be back in 45 to pick me up for dinner. What the hell am I going to wear?? He said west-coast casual, but what does that mean? My mother brought me up better than to wear jeans somewhere I don't know the hosts, don't want to go overboard, but don't want to look like a slouch, either. Decide on a fun summer skirt, cardi-set and fab flip-flops (which I believe I have discussed in a past-post, to Jill's envy), which was, of course, the perfect outfit.

He arrived, got accosted by the mutts and passed their sniff test. Off we went.

This other couple were lovely and we had a great time --- great food, unbelievable wine (though a bit too much) and excellent conversation. The evening flowed with no awkward moments and all of a sudden it was 1 a.m. There was no discussion about driving; that was a foregone conclusion. And as we live in polar opposite directions from where we were at dinner, we called two cabs. So this would answer the question of: what if he goes in for the GN kiss?? Well, the first cab arrived, and he walked me to the curb, quick hug an a peck and off home I went.

I knew I wouldn't see or hear from him on the weekend as I was slammed busy and he had his (teenage) kids. Chatted Monday, thanked hm for a great evening, he met my sister (passed her sniff test too, I think. Paula??) and that was that. Still very ambiguous.

This dating or non-dating or whatever in your late 30's is not easy stuff.

Decker

On occasion Maggie and I will have another dog to stay while its "parents" are away --- a great way to subsidize the Princess's expensive habits like regular walks with her dog walkers and her taste for organic raw diet. Decker, a "Puggle" (beagle/pug cross) is currently in residence.

I put the food in his dish to hydrate (he eats this special dehydrated organic stuff) before going on our walk last night and he actually stopped several times on the way down the road and looked back as if to say "hey, the food is back there, remember? cause you know the food is back there and we're going this way, away from the food and the food is back there, in case you forgot, seriously, the food is back there, man. Duuuude!!! the foood!!!! back there!!!!!!".

I assured him that his food would still be there when we got back, but he was definitely skeptical .... and then I made him walk for over 3 hours and I swear he was worried that we would never make it back to the food and when we finally did I puttered around the house for a good 15 minutes while the little Puggle kept watch on the mat just below where his dish was sitting.

His relief was almost palpable when I finally placed his dinner in front of him.

Have I mentioned how grateful I am that Princess Maggie is probably the only non-food-obsessed Golden Retriever known to man?

The CBC Strike - how does it affect me?

if they don't resolve this CBC strike thing soon, the only place I am going to be seeing this man is right here

DO SOMETHING!!!!

Long time coming

I had a very interesting conversation today with the ex-wife of an ex-boyfriend. (This is the same ex-boyfriend, Jim, that I had the all-satisfying encounter with a few years back.) I am not going to go into all the sordid details of my relationship and subsequent breakup with him except to say that he was dating this woman before, during and after dating me. I would run into them as a couple every once in a while and we would all be very civil and but I was never exactly certain what was going on. Were they married? Expecting children? Did she hate me? Anyway, come that fateful encounter, it was clear that they were no longer together and that he was with this other woman, though he never came out and said that to me. After that I would run into him every once in a while walking the dogs, on his way home from work, (his parents, where he was living, live quite close to me), etc. The last time I saw him, ironically on my birthday this year and he actually wished me a happy birthday which he never remembered when we were together, he told me that he had bought a new house on Bowen Island and was moving in a few weeks. I congratulated him on his new home and we parted ways. I haven't seen him since.

Yesterday I was out with some girlfriends browsing through the shops and his ex-wife was working at one of them. We said hello and started chatting. She asked if I knew that Bandit (his dog and one of the best things about him) had died. I told her that yes, he had told me that and I recounted my meeting with him at Whitespot. So she said that I knew that they had divorced. I told her that actually, I was never even really certain hat they had gotten married, but assumed so and that she had gotten the condo in the divorce. She did, much to his mother's dismay. After they split, her best girlfriend basically stopped calling. Someone told her that there was a rumour that she and Jim were dating. She called him and he denied it. it was the same woman I had seen him with that first time and guess what? They got married two weeks ago!! We laughed about this and both felt kind of sorry for this woman because it seems that he has not changed one iota since I dated him over 10 years ago. Wardrobe still consists mainly of cycling gear and it is like pulling teeth to get him to put "real" clothes on. And when he does you almost wish for the cycling clothes ---- flannel shirts, bad jeans, cowboy boots, etc. Real redneck gear. And forget ever leaving the North Shore, let alone travelling anywhere. Small-minded ignoramus is this boy's middle name.

Her co-worker was thoroughly enjoying out conversation as she has gone through the whole breakup and divorce with her and so knows all the "inside scoop", my role included. We caught up on how our own lives were going and on how much better off we are without him dragging us down and that we have actually progressed and become successful adults while he is still a Momma's boy. We hugged goodbye with a promise to get together for cocktails, soon -- two women who were played against each other for a number of years and now may form a great friendship.

Creeping me out

We are in the midst of renovations/moving/general chaos at the office and one of the movers looks uncannilly like some sort of mutant cross between the Big Boy mascot and an old fashioned Cupie doll.

He is seriously creeping me out.

The Boss

Because I was not feeling great I opted not to go out Friday night and instead stayed home in my jammies with the mutt and watched Friday night television (which sucks, by the way). While channel surfing through the crud, however, I did catch some of the Detroit Public Television broadcast of a Bruce Springsteen concert from NYC. And it was GREAT!

My parents gave me my first record player when I was about 2 years old and it was my very favourite toy ever. I carried it with me everywhere and took really good care of all my records --- carefully putting them back in the plastic sleeves before putting them in their cardboard ones, making sure the needle didn't scratch, etc. (if you are reading this and were born post 1980, go ask your parents what I am talking about)

This rather anal behaviour carried over to my teen years, though my stereo equipment improved rather significantly. I had amassed a rather large collection of vinyl by the time I was 18 and all records were kept in milk crates, in alphabetical, chronological order and I was more than aware when someone had disturbed them. In late 1986 Bruce Springsteen came out with his "Boxed Set" --- 5 albums of his greatest hits (this unfortunately started a trend of boxed sets in the music industry, but Springsteen's was the first and I think the best). Anyway, shortly before Christmas I bought the boxed set for myself, at the astronomical price of around $50.00.

It was the night of the Bal de Neiges (The Snow Ball), a Montreal traditional family ball to benefit the Montreal Association for the Blind. Of course we were going "en famille" and of course us three girls were running late l(uckily my parents always had a thing about bathrooms, so we each had our own and didn't have to fight for space). When I came out of the shower I could hear strains of Mr. Springsteen coming from below. Now I had not even cracked the seal on this album and I was (still am) a little funny about people listening to my records before I do (holds true with books, magazines and newspapers, you have been warned). I threw on my robe and ran down the stairs, fully prepared to tear a strip off of my sister, the obvious culprit, and maybe even cause her bodily harm.

It wasn't my sister.

I got down to the foyer and looked around the corner into the livingroom and there was my dad, dressed and ready to go in his tuxedo, little half-moon glasses on the end of his nose, boring legal brief on his lap, tapping his pencil in time to "Rosilita". He looked up and saw me and said:

"Katie, isn't the Boss great?" (Seriously, he is the only man alive that is actually allowed to refer to Bruce Springsteen as "The Boss" and not get smacked upside the head. )

Way to take the anger wind out of my sails, dad.

My mum bought a cd player for my dad for Christmas that year, and this back in the day when you had to pretty much take out a 3rd mortgage on the house to do so, and so I bought him his first cd --- "The River".

My mum's youngest brother, my Uncle Pete, now has all of my albums. Seeing as how I have left them in my parents' attic for 15 years or so and seeing as how he actually has an amazing turntable, he deserves them. And his daughters, a good 20 years younger than me, love the fact that they now have "vintage" Madonna, Sex Pistols, Violent Femmes and the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, not to mention my complete collection of The Who and all my import 45's. I was visiting him and his family last Christmas and we put Springsteen's boxed set on --- his live version of "Fire" still gives me chills.

don't you hate it when

you think you looked really good and then you see a photograph of yourself and you just didn't?

way to bum a high ....

how to so not impress me

Use me, who you have just met, to make your ex-girlfriend, who is one of the bridesmaids at the wedding we are both at, jealous.

'nuff said.

Delivering the news

In the neighbourhood where I grew up one of the most coveted jobs was that of "paper boy". J. McC had it pretty much tied up for a number of years and he was the shit. I mean all the girls had crushes on him and people were lined up to take his place when he moved on. I really, really wanted to be the "anointed one", but that honour went to A. P., a true-blue geek from up the street. I did, however, get the chance to take the route over for 6 weeks one summer. All illusions were shattered. My dad's tales of delivering the paper sounded so romantic and Jamie had cultivated such a cool image with his punch cards when he came to collect each week that I thought this was going to be the Best. Job. Ever. WRONG ---- it sucked!!!!!!! I had to get up at 5 Monday to Saturday, collect the papers from the corner, insert all the bloody flyers and then fold the stupid papers for delivery. Then walk around the neighbourhood making sure that I put this paper under the third mat to the left, and that paper inside the screen door, etc., etc., etc. And because it was summer, lots of people were away and so I had to keep track of that and that also meant that any tips I might get for doing the deliveries went way down. I think that I made maybe $100 in the 6-week period. So not worth it.

Fast forward 2 years. I am home for the first time since going away to boarding school; it is Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, which is Columbus Day down south. When I get in the house on Friday night my mum is all "guess what? Alexander had to go away for the weekend so I told him that you would be thrilled to deliver the Saturday papers!" Was she on crack????? I gave my mum a look that only 14-year-old girls can give their mothers and refused. I was holiday, dammit!! Didn't she realize that I had been away from home for almost 2 months, toiling away at school and needed a break? Jeez!!!! What to do, what to do. "No problem," said my dad "Susie, we'll deliver them. It will be just like when I was in school ..."

[You see, my dad had delivered the Montreal Gazette throughout his high school, university and maybe even law school careers. It was his fault that I thought it would be such a great gig. My mum was skeptical, but she was the one who promised delivery coverage, so …]

The rest of this story is second hand because I was sleeping while it happened.

Saturday morning arrived and my parents got up with the birds and headed out on their paper route. Now my mum is not what one would call a "morning person" so the thought of her out there, pulling a wagon laden with extra large Saturday papers is quite funny. And my dad? Well he lives for mornings so he was literally whistling a happy tune and being all nostalgic and goofy as he tossed those bad boys on to people's front stoops (no under the mat or between the doors for him). All was going pretty smoothly until they got to the last stretch of houses. As my dad was coming up the walkway of this particular house he looked up and saw someone else sneaking down the walkway. They both stopped, looked at each other and time pretty much stood still. You see, the person sneaking out of this particular house was not the husband of the woman who lived in this house. In fact, he was the husband of a woman who lived about 10 blocks away and the husband who belonged at this particular house was out of town. BUSTED!!!!

"Bob (not real name), life's tough all over. You've just gotta do what you gotta do" and he continued delivering papers. Nothing was ever said, but there were a couple of divorces over the next year or so.

We still laugh about this (not the divorce part, but the getting busted part cause come on, it’s funny) and my dad's thoughts are along the lines of what was more shocking: successful shit-hot senior partner corporate lawyer dude caught delivering the paper with his wife (it was the early 80's and we were in the middle of a rather brutal recession) or successful shit-hot senior partner lawyer dude being caught with his pants down?

this & that

I inadvertently taped an Oprah episode this week (here is where I confess to my closet Days of Our Lives addiction and I tape an episode or two a week just to keep my finger on the pulse of Salem) and so watched Oprah interview Maria Shriver and her mum, Ethel Kennedy Shriver. Maria is not aging well - she is far too thin and looks, quite frankly, odd. And both she and her younger daughter use the word "like" far too much. Ethel appears to be physically aging better than her daughter, but I do believe that the woman should not be interviewed on "live" television. I am sure she is a great lady and I know she has done amazing things for people, the Special Olympics for example. And I am also certain that she is a great mother and raised fabulous children. However, she was having a hard time keeping on topic and answering the questions Oprah was putting to her and just kept talking about growing up with John, Bobby & Teddy. Let the woman have her dignity, please. She has earned it. However, what I did learn in this interview and loved was that Arnold is obsessed with his children doing their chores and not becoming "spoiled Hollywood brats". Also, it appeared that both he and Maria take an active role in the kids' lives and actually make sure that they are being properly supervised when at friends' homes, i.e. that there is an adult present, and that they are quite strict and enforce rules, curfews and punishments, like giving away any clothes the children are too lazy to put away. Don't know why, but hearing those stories made me smile.

Over at Nickerblog Shane was pontificating on the benefits of being the "guy next door" as opposed to the hunky model OC type. It got me to thinking about all the beautiful people in my life, and there are quite a few (not including myself in that category nor asking for the rush of an ego boost, just stating a fact). It seems to me that if you are born physically beautiful you don't really have to make much of an effort in other areas of your life --- like smarts or personality. That's not to say that all beautiful people are dumb or, to quote to ever-quotable MM, have the personalities of deck chairs. However, this is often the case and it is not necessarily their fault. Beauty fades, smarts and personality generally don't. And haven't we all experienced the phenomenon of meeting someone who is drop dead gorgeous and then when you get to know them they become less and less attractive? And the opposite when you meet someone who may not have walked off the pages of GQ or Vogue, but the more you get to know them the more irresistible they are?

To finish, I am feeling very sorry for myself at the moment. I was quite sick last week with a terrible summer cold/sore throat thing which I blamed on the air-conditioning in the office building. I kept myself doped up on Tylenol Cold for most of the week and was feeling pretty good about life (Tylenol Cold and Champagne is a particularly good combination, by the way). I have been "drug free" for 4 days (I sound like a heroin addict, don't I) and last night I woke up with the sore throat all over again and today had chills and was all stuffy and feel bloody miserable. The sucky thing about living on your own is that you still have to do everything, like feed the dog, walk the dog, buy your own ginger ale and make your own grilled cheese sandwich and there is no one around to listen to you whine (that’s for whoever is the poor unfortunate soul reading this's task) or bring you a cold cloth for the back of your neck. And I have to get myself downtown for a 10:00 a.m. pedicure that I can't cancel because I would still have to pay for it and home again in time to get ready and be picked up at 3 for a friend's wedding. I told you I was whining. But I did buy an absolutely fabulous dress --- black and white dishcloth pattern linen and silk halter neck with bias cut a-line skirt tea length --- and that made me happy.

Happy Friday!

The Really Big Cook Off

Rachael over at Fresh Approach Cooking, my favourite "foodie blog" came up with this idea and so last night I got together with a couple of girlfriends and made the assigned dish - Jamie Oliver's Asparagus and Potato Ravioli with Mint. As the Cook Off is open to people all over the world and not everyone has all the ingredients readily available to them, Rachael made a few adjustments to the recipe. However, living in Vancouver and therefore having easy access to pretty much everything, I went with the recipe as originally intended. Oddly enough the only "ingredients" that I had trouble procuring were the won ton wrappers. We tried 4 large supermarkets and nada, so we went with fresh lasagna noodles, which worked just fine. At risk of sounding like I am tooting my own horn, the end result was delicious and definitely something I would make again. Not too complicated and surprisingly light. Thanks Jennifer and Niccola for helping (and eating)! I am very much looking forward to the next round ....

Zamboni DUI

Only my oldest and dearest friends are aware of what they describe as my "blue collar fantasies" --- my desire to drive a zamboni, preferably at the Forum (which doesn't exist anymore, so that point is somewhat moot) and to pump gas, but only at a gas station where the attendants wear those cool cover-alls, for a living. Anyway, my friend Andrea was at the party Saturday night (a wonderful surprise) and in her evening bag she had this article cut out and ready to hand to me for our mutual amusement. For full effect read it out loud with a heavy French Canadian "haccent".

Now you would think that this would be an isolated incedent. It's not. I did a quick "google" on the subject this morning and found this, this, and this. Who knew??

Oh, and I have actually ridden on a zamboni at the historic Montreal Forum, but I wasn't allowed to drive it. Apparently you need a special license for that.

Insecurity sets in

I am sitting here at the computer, rollers in my hair, having a mild panic attack. You see I am going to a dear friend's 40th birthday party tonight (Kathryn's traditional 40th birthday gift of a UB40 cd already wrapped and ready to go) and I am suddenly feeling completely inadequate. My friend and her husband are lovely, lovely people, it's just that they are in a completely different (read much, much higher) economic bracket than me, as are most of their other friends (my sister not included). I help pay someone else's mortgage by living in their basement, while my frineds don't even have a mortgage and live in the ritziest part of town, right on the water.

The printed invites say dress: something fabulous. I don't own anything fabulous. Okay, so I have fabulous shoes, but that's where it ends. No fabulous dress, no fabulous jewels, no fabulous hairstylist, and last of all, no fabulous man on my arm. At least my sister has the wonderful Marcus to walk in with. And my friend's parents will be there from Knowlton, which is great and I am looking forward to seeing them, but they will report directly back to my parents upon their return to Knowlton.

Oh well, not much I can do about it right now. My best plan of attack at the moment is to go out to the backyard and try to get the multiple tan lines at least a little blended and enjoy an icy cold beverage while Maggie terrorizes Fluffy the hampster in its little ball.

Rockin' Friday Night!!!

What do single, fun and attractive women do in your town on a Friday night? In ours we CAN PEACHES!!!

After driving all the way to Osoyoos last week in search of the perfect peach (and not a few bottles of wine), tonight we processd them. And damn fine looking peaches they are, too.

However, we under estimated how many peaches we had so we have now run out of jars. And seeing as how WalMart is not 24/7 here in North Vancouver, we have to wait until morning to finish.

so now we drink wine ....

Random stuff I've seen this week

The other day I saw some chick (I am a girl, I can use that term) riding one of those super-trendy cruiser bikes, against traffic, downtown, no helmet, smoking a cigarette and talking on her cell phone. Got back to the office and looked up the word "IDIOT", syn "DUMBASS" in the good old Oxford and sure enough, there was her picture. I don't want a cruiser bike anymore.

Wednesday afternoon one of the boys I work with called me in to his office to see what was going on below --- girl and guy sitting on a bench in the courtyard, girl giving guy a handjob, guy "covering" himself with his t-shirt (not very well). In broad daylight. Funny thing was, no one seemed to notice what was going on. How much did I wish at that moment that the windows in our building opened so that I could chuck something at their heads???

Sequins are for nighttime. N.I.G.H.T.T.I.M.E. Got it?

1980 something K-Car with mag wheels. Someone is taking Pimp-My-Ride a little too seriously.

Wearing all trends at the same time does not say "I'm hip". Trust me, you're NOT.

A woman was walking down Robson Street wearing quite simply the most fabulous hat I have ever seen outside of Acsot. I think she was confused as to what city she was in (and I mean that in the nicest of ways).

3 foreign students pushed an older woman out of the way to get off the bus Thursday morning. GO HOME!!!

We met Guinness and Panda --- 2 3-month-old Newfie puppies. They are as big as Maggie!!! They move to Sun Peaks next week.

Far too many bandaids on the backs of heels while wearing slingbacks.

A 1957 red t-bird convertible parked outside our building. I so wanted to wait and see whose it was and then ask for a ride. God damn my job anyway!! =)

Was woken up last night by a massive cat fight outside. when I went to the back yard this morning to deal with sprinkler and watering stuff, there was enough fur back there to make another cat. I hope everyone is okay. Oh, and Maggie did not wake up during the cat fight.

Happy Friday!!!!

My outside voice wins again

My inside voice has a tendency to become my outside voice, which generally results in my being embarrassed and others being amused.

Today, for example, as I was walking down through Yaletown en route to the seawall on my lunch break, I saw a remarkably well dressed and handsome man walking towards me. Now this is most definitely not an everyday occurrence in Vancouver; far from it, in fact. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “what a handsome man”. “Thank you”, came the reply with a smile, “you just made my day.”

Seems my inner thought had vocalized itself. This calling a strange man handsome to his face has happened to me once before, at the 2003 Calgary Stampede to be precise, but that was under the influence of maybe 8 Mike’s Hard Cranberries consumed in close succession. There was just cause for the inside voice to come out and play. I had no such excuse today.

At least I made someone’s day.

Oh, and the fact that I got ID’d and refused service at Quail’s Gate over the weekend? That little gem is causing no end of amusement around the office.

My 36 hour Holiday

Well, I'm back. And it was FANTASTIC!!!! I got home about an hour ago and can't sleep, so here I am at the computer. I am really going to be hating myself for this tomorrow morning when I am dragging my sorry ass into the office .....

Anyway, we had a fabulous time and packed A LOT into a very short amount of time. When we finally arrived in Kelowna we discovered that our idea of being spontaneous and whimsical (read, let's not make a hotel reservation and just find a place when we get there) was not such a brilliant plan. There was one room available, a queen murphy bed in a room with no window which could be ours for the bargain basement price of $360.00 PER NIGHT! I don't think so. We made it to The Accent Inn where Kevin and Terry called pretty much every hotel in a 4 city radius for us, to no avail, and just as we were about to head all the way to Vernon in hopes of finding somthing, someone called to cancel so we got their room. Horseshoes, my friends, horseshoes.

With a place to stay now secured, we made a quick change out of our driving clothes and headed into town for dinner and some liquid refreshment. Now, it was hot. I mean really, really hot. Like 36 degrees hot. I like the heat, but I am also used to Vancouver and living by the ocean where there is always a cool breeze and the evenings, even at the peak of summer, generally require that you wear a light jacket. Not so out there in the desert, so I had to make a quick wardrobe adjustment. My jeans were just going to be too bloody hot and my only alternative was to fashion a skirt out of my sarong. This worked great, when I was standing still in the hotel room. Suffice to say that I did a lot of "creative walking" and probably exposed a tad more of myself than originally intended to the good folks of Kelowna. My travelling companion Jennifer was promtly fired as my "preventer of wardrobe malfunctions". She did, however, resist the urge to point and laugh at me as I pretty much threw myself against the outside wall of the pub we were entering when I realized that my skirt was nowhere near where it was supposed to be. For this I thank her.

My impression of the Kelowna "scene"? Too much testosterone and high-powered water sports equipment in one small space. Lots of men who wished they were 2 inches taller and were named "Brad" (who wears a visor and sunglasses at 11 at night?). Lots of butt slapping and "booyahs!" all 'round.

Today was winery day and we hit 6 in as many hours. Mission Hill was the most spectacular and you definitely get a lot of bang for your buck: $15.00 gets you the full tour, 5 tastes and the $14.95 crystal wine glass that you use at the tasting. Our favourite "experience" though was at Dirty Laundry --- a husband and wife team that actually welcome you into their home for tastings and education. They have a fabulous shaded patio overlooking their vineyard where they encourage you to bring a picnic and sip their wine. The story behind the name (briefly) - the first Chinese Laundry opened in Summerland was by a very enterprising man who ran a (very lucrative) brothel above his laundry. Hence "Dirty Laundry". And their wine was yummy, too. (not to mention an absolutely gorgeous label/logo)

Funny moment: Quail's Gate refused to serve me as I had forgotten my ID at home. I mean come on -- I am 37 years old. Thanks for the compliment, but seriously, I don't look at least 25??????? So that tasting became a spectator sport for me. They wouldn't even give me a Callebaut Chocolate Ice Wine Tasting Cup sans wine as a consolation prize. Bastards.

We also went to Straw Hill (their Tapestry is outstanding), House of Rose and we tried to get to Burrowing Owl but it was closed. I was there 2 years ago and it is definitely worth the trip.

Oh, yeah, and I did actually remember to buy the peaches for canning which was the original purpose of my trip. I'll get to that task later in the week.

One more funny/odd thing: as we were driving out of Osoyoos last night, we passed what I can only assume was a sheep farm owned by new immigrants with a culture/language barrier because hanging from their sign were three blow-up sheep/goat things usual only seen at stag parties and the like. Or maybe it was some sort of niche-market sex toy shop. Given the location, it just seemed odd.

* When I got home last night and opened the fridge to put the peaches in, there was a note on the top shelf: "Stole your hummous" from my sister. That was my lunch for this week (or an important component thereto, anyway)!! well, I guess she did look after the princess for the weekend ......

Revenge of the hairy spiders

My bags are packed and I'm ready to go (the taxi's waiting outside the door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye) [sorry, don't know what came over me there, but the words just seemed to type themselves] anyway, while I wait for my ride I will share this with you:

I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams, but last night's was plain odd. I dreamed that I was sitting in a backyard with a bunch of people that I knew (but didn't really know, except for in that dream) and Maggie was with me and so were a lot of other dogs and they were all running around having a great time together and then this other animal appeared in the yard (which was actually sand surrounded by choir-roster-like stacked levels of grass that we were all sitting on) and this other animal appeared to be a cross between a weasle, a muskrat, a fox and a groundhog. Anyway, it was running around the yard, burrowing in the sand and grass, the dogs were chasing it and you could see the progress of this animal as it was burrowing. It was a very action-packed sequence. And then I noticed that this animal had disturbed a bees' nest or wasps' nest that was in gthe sand in the middle of the yard and the nest was now spitting out wasps/bees in the manner of an automatic tennis ball shooter thing and no one beleived me and then I got stung a few times, but slowly as the bees/wasps weren't swarming, they were coming out one by one. I could actually feel the darn things stinging me.

When I woke up this morning, my thumb joint was all itchy and I realized that it is covered in bits. Yikes!!!! I haven't seen a mosquito all summer in my house so it can only mean one thing:

I WAS BITTEN REPEATEDLY BY A BIG-ASS HAIRY SPIDER LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok, off to my 36 hour holiday now ....

Gratuitous Maggie

I may be a little biased, but really, she's pretty darn fabulous

Of Wine, Water and Dogs

These are the lunatices who opened their doors to Yaletown canines and their "handlers" this past Sunday for a wine and dog cookie tasting event. I can attest that the wine was delicious. We'll just have to take the mutts' woof for it about the cookies.

Here we are hanging at the bar

Katie and her dog, Newsie

Maggie and her new friend, Henry, a 12 week old Retriever
(we do associate with other breeds, but rarely ...)

the Welcome Wagon
from left: Maggie, Henry, Newsie

cooling off in False Creek
"Out

" and back"

a wet a happy Maggie

So, how was your weekend??

Yogathon 2005

Paula (my sister) and me before the event. When my mum sees this photo, she will say: "why do you girls always wear those big sunglasses? you can't see your pretty faces" Mum, like they're cool, okay? get with it, sheesh

Short version: IT WAS AWESOME!!!! Now I am probably one of the least hippy-dippy person living in Vancouver (patchouli makes me want to barf), but the energy and love at this event was palpable. Here's an insight into my psyche: I am highly competitive and generally don't like doing things (especially in public) unless I am confident that I can do them at least as well, if not better than, everyone around me. This was an instance where I was nowhere near as good as 95% of the people around me and I just had to get over that. That accomplished, I grounded myself to the spirit of the event, raising money for Camp Moomba, and saluted the sun. I figure I got through about 80 of the 108. Paula got through all 108 --- she rocks! Highlight: at #54 they blasted Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" to mark the half-way mark. That was kinda surreal. Will definitely be doing this event next year (my hamstrings should be recovered by then).

Sun Salutation #1 - only 107 more to go!!

Maggie & Trudy had the best downward dogs --- maybe they had an unfair advantage??

And a big shout out to Marcus for being a most excellent dog-sitter cum photographer!!

How to irritate me

If there's something I hate, it's passive aggressiveness. Seriously, having to deal with passive aggressive people drives me around the bend, which I guess makes it an effective method from their point of view, but I think it's plain WEAK.

I liken it to playing tennis against a weaker player, yet one who has the ability return pretty much every shot with a seemingly gravity-defying and annoyingly unforceful lob, again and again and again until you are so frustrated that you loose your temper and slam that sucker right into the net, thereby loosing the point and, ultimately, the match, to the annoying lobber, who smirks knowingly at you from the other side of the net, almost daring you to throw your racquet at her head [which reminds me, my sister actually did that to me once, I will have to regale you all with that tale one day ...]. But you don't, because there are rules and we live in a relatively civilized society. Natasha, one day revenge WILL BE MINE. Consider yourself warned.

That said, you can well imagine how much I enjoyed the following exchange:

Me: So, I just received a rather snarky email from X

Passive Aggressive Ass ("PAA"): (smirking) yes?

Me: you sent them something?

PAA: yes, that's the procedure

Me: I explained to you in April why this was a special case

PAA: hmm, I don't recall that

(I am standing, PAA is sitting with a smirking, smug expression that I want to forcibly swat from its face)

Me: we went through this exact exercise in April, just 3 months ago

PAA: yeah, I still don't recall (adding annoying head tilt)

Me: Okay, can we mark the file so it doesn't happen again?

PAA: I hear what you're saying (head tilting smirk as emphasis)

["I hear what you're saying" --- if there is an expression that sets me off, that's it]

Me: oh, forget it, I'll just deal with it

PAA: Right

*&#@$!@#$!!!!!!!