Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Cougar Has Landed
And I'm gonna party like it's 1989. I'm going to a college friend's wedding in Halifax on Labour Day weekend. I'm going with another classmate. Here's our tentative schedule:
Thursday Sept 1
10am - Arrive - Get rental car and drive into town
Check into hotel
Tootle around town
Walk around campus
Visit old haunts
Lunch
Call lust men from the past; pick any up who are willing to hang with us
Drive - south shore or beach
Dinner / drinking / donairs / pizza corners / pass out
Friday Sept 2
Sleep in
Lunch
Shopping
Get ready for wedding
Call any lust men from the past who want to crash a wedding
Wedding!
Donairs / pizza corners / pass out
Saturday Sept 3
Sleep in
Lunch
Airport - drop off any lust men from the past still hanging around
Fly home around 4pm
And I'm gonna party like it's 1989. I'm going to a college friend's wedding in Halifax on Labour Day weekend. I'm going with another classmate. Here's our tentative schedule:
Thursday Sept 1
10am - Arrive - Get rental car and drive into town
Check into hotel
Tootle around town
Walk around campus
Visit old haunts
Lunch
Call lust men from the past; pick any up who are willing to hang with us
Drive - south shore or beach
Dinner / drinking / donairs / pizza corners / pass out
Friday Sept 2
Sleep in
Lunch
Shopping
Get ready for wedding
Call any lust men from the past who want to crash a wedding
Wedding!
Donairs / pizza corners / pass out
Saturday Sept 3
Sleep in
Lunch
Airport - drop off any lust men from the past still hanging around
Fly home around 4pm
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Good Times, Good Times
Our new notebook computer came from TigerDirect. UPS man left it in the bushes around the side of the house where I keep the recycling. Much handier than me having to go to the depot. Anyway, our old computer and other assorted shit came from the neighbourhood IBM store. I think with everything it cost about $4100 (CPU, gigantic monitor, keyboard, mouse, shitty printer and scanner). This new machine is a refurbished eMachines whatever, got plenty of everything Nick needs, has a small footprint which I love and there are so many less cables lying around, which really drove me crazy. If girls designed computers, there would be one cable boys, ONE CABLE. I hated that giant monitor. I would like to take a baseball bat to that thing when we are done transferring files. Kitties loved to sleep on top of it while you worked. The inside must be full of hair. We had the old computer for 6 years.
On Thursday at my work we had an offsite day - everyone in the group (about 40 people) went to the beach. We staked out a good picnic area, set up a volleyball net and had a huge day of games and lunch. Very nice and quite fun. I regretted not bringing my sports brace. It's weirdo to see work associates in shorts, with their skinny legs all there and everything.
Nick's been working on setting up the new computer the last couple of nights. It's almost done. I completely overhauled and spring cleaned the study on Thursday night while Nick was at his Thursday night softball league. Sweat was pouring off me. I unloaded everything off Nick's bookshelf. I dusted that big motherfucker. The dust was dust-gusting. I will need to have a word with the cleaning lady about it. I sorted all the books. I made piles of garbage. I dusted off the books. I moved the bookshelf to a better spot. I cleaned and dusted the drafting table and moved it to a better spot. I was falling over the piles of books so I put them all away. I cleaned the two filing cabinets and rearranged them. I took everything off the old kitchen table which we use as a desk. It has a red vinyl top. I scrubbed and scrubbed it. Years of dust, hand sweat and kitty cat asses resting on it made it nasty. Some of the dye came up so it looks like it has a patina (if vinyl can have a patina). Looks good though. I hung up the signed Maclean's cover of Joe Carter winning his second World Series (Nick was there). Everything looks good now, like a cozy room where you would want to do some serious writing. This is Nick's office, but I have to look at it. You cannot say I'm a bad wife. Sometimes I get a fever for more cowbell and I just gots to sweat and clean everything in sight, even though I gots a cleaning lady. She doesn't move things or touch the contents of a bookshelf, feel me?
On Friday Nick had his implant installed by an oral surgeon. It cost $2620 upfront. He now has a rather large screw drilled into his jaw. It will heal and in a couple of months and be ready for the prosthetic tooth, which the regular dentist puts in. That will cost another $1000 or so. They gave him valium in an IV. I waited for him through the surgery and then brought him home. I gave him ginger ale and ice cream and then some soup. He slept on the couch all afternoon. I went to see The Island. The critics don't know what the fuck they're talking about - it's a great movie. Great car chase scenes. It's a cross between Coma, Blade Runner and Logan's Run I swear to god. When I got home Nick was up, feeling fine. I walked the dog and made him mashed potatoes and soup for his supper. We watched TV and went to bed. Usually he goes out with his friends on Fridays but he turned off his cell phone.
On Saturday I got up at the crack of dawn as usual. Did all the breakfasts, walked the dog, read the papers. Got Nick settled on the couch then went to collect / drop off the dry cleaning and get my pedicure. I'm a whore to the slutty colours. I got hot metallic pink. Every other girl I know gets the pale shell pink or a french pedi. Then I checked out a sale for linens and I got a set for our bedroom. We have two beds and only two sets of linen plus a mess of crazy mis-matched stuff. Nick was annoyed when he saw the big bags and wanted to know How much? I know those big bags look bad. He was pissed so he went out to get his hair cut and do some shop therapy of is own. He was totally fine from his implant.
I cleaned out the linen closet and sorted everything. I made a stack of shit that just wasn't being used. I changed both beds. I did 4 loads of laundry. I put the linen closet back together again. Even though I just bought new stuff, it's got less stuff in it.
We went out to the pub where our friends hang out. They have karaoke on Saturday nights. I signed up for some solos and duets. I had never done it before, but it was cool. Everyone's drunk so nobody cares. Everyone loved it when we did "All In The Family". Lee and I did a sexy version of The Kinks - You Really Got Me. Very hot. Some advice, don't attempt challenging songs like Simon and Garfunkel or Your Song by Elton John.
Our new notebook computer came from TigerDirect. UPS man left it in the bushes around the side of the house where I keep the recycling. Much handier than me having to go to the depot. Anyway, our old computer and other assorted shit came from the neighbourhood IBM store. I think with everything it cost about $4100 (CPU, gigantic monitor, keyboard, mouse, shitty printer and scanner). This new machine is a refurbished eMachines whatever, got plenty of everything Nick needs, has a small footprint which I love and there are so many less cables lying around, which really drove me crazy. If girls designed computers, there would be one cable boys, ONE CABLE. I hated that giant monitor. I would like to take a baseball bat to that thing when we are done transferring files. Kitties loved to sleep on top of it while you worked. The inside must be full of hair. We had the old computer for 6 years.
On Thursday at my work we had an offsite day - everyone in the group (about 40 people) went to the beach. We staked out a good picnic area, set up a volleyball net and had a huge day of games and lunch. Very nice and quite fun. I regretted not bringing my sports brace. It's weirdo to see work associates in shorts, with their skinny legs all there and everything.
Nick's been working on setting up the new computer the last couple of nights. It's almost done. I completely overhauled and spring cleaned the study on Thursday night while Nick was at his Thursday night softball league. Sweat was pouring off me. I unloaded everything off Nick's bookshelf. I dusted that big motherfucker. The dust was dust-gusting. I will need to have a word with the cleaning lady about it. I sorted all the books. I made piles of garbage. I dusted off the books. I moved the bookshelf to a better spot. I cleaned and dusted the drafting table and moved it to a better spot. I was falling over the piles of books so I put them all away. I cleaned the two filing cabinets and rearranged them. I took everything off the old kitchen table which we use as a desk. It has a red vinyl top. I scrubbed and scrubbed it. Years of dust, hand sweat and kitty cat asses resting on it made it nasty. Some of the dye came up so it looks like it has a patina (if vinyl can have a patina). Looks good though. I hung up the signed Maclean's cover of Joe Carter winning his second World Series (Nick was there). Everything looks good now, like a cozy room where you would want to do some serious writing. This is Nick's office, but I have to look at it. You cannot say I'm a bad wife. Sometimes I get a fever for more cowbell and I just gots to sweat and clean everything in sight, even though I gots a cleaning lady. She doesn't move things or touch the contents of a bookshelf, feel me?
On Friday Nick had his implant installed by an oral surgeon. It cost $2620 upfront. He now has a rather large screw drilled into his jaw. It will heal and in a couple of months and be ready for the prosthetic tooth, which the regular dentist puts in. That will cost another $1000 or so. They gave him valium in an IV. I waited for him through the surgery and then brought him home. I gave him ginger ale and ice cream and then some soup. He slept on the couch all afternoon. I went to see The Island. The critics don't know what the fuck they're talking about - it's a great movie. Great car chase scenes. It's a cross between Coma, Blade Runner and Logan's Run I swear to god. When I got home Nick was up, feeling fine. I walked the dog and made him mashed potatoes and soup for his supper. We watched TV and went to bed. Usually he goes out with his friends on Fridays but he turned off his cell phone.
On Saturday I got up at the crack of dawn as usual. Did all the breakfasts, walked the dog, read the papers. Got Nick settled on the couch then went to collect / drop off the dry cleaning and get my pedicure. I'm a whore to the slutty colours. I got hot metallic pink. Every other girl I know gets the pale shell pink or a french pedi. Then I checked out a sale for linens and I got a set for our bedroom. We have two beds and only two sets of linen plus a mess of crazy mis-matched stuff. Nick was annoyed when he saw the big bags and wanted to know How much? I know those big bags look bad. He was pissed so he went out to get his hair cut and do some shop therapy of is own. He was totally fine from his implant.
I cleaned out the linen closet and sorted everything. I made a stack of shit that just wasn't being used. I changed both beds. I did 4 loads of laundry. I put the linen closet back together again. Even though I just bought new stuff, it's got less stuff in it.
We went out to the pub where our friends hang out. They have karaoke on Saturday nights. I signed up for some solos and duets. I had never done it before, but it was cool. Everyone's drunk so nobody cares. Everyone loved it when we did "All In The Family". Lee and I did a sexy version of The Kinks - You Really Got Me. Very hot. Some advice, don't attempt challenging songs like Simon and Garfunkel or Your Song by Elton John.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Another One Bites The Dust
Spent a lot of the weekend celebrating the fact that a Halifax friend is getting married in September. Had a quiet dinner and drinks at Lobby and Lee (very, very good food), and then the big bash was drinks and appies at a friend's house followed by a raucous dinner at Crush. It was all great fun, but I suffered from my usual "nervous stomach" that I always experience when partying with this group of people. I don't know what it is or why it happens. I've had some tests and it's not Irritible Bowel Syndrome or anything like that. It's probably just a very specific kind of symptom of anixety. Anyway, I got through it and really enjoyed myself.
Spent a lot of the weekend celebrating the fact that a Halifax friend is getting married in September. Had a quiet dinner and drinks at Lobby and Lee (very, very good food), and then the big bash was drinks and appies at a friend's house followed by a raucous dinner at Crush. It was all great fun, but I suffered from my usual "nervous stomach" that I always experience when partying with this group of people. I don't know what it is or why it happens. I've had some tests and it's not Irritible Bowel Syndrome or anything like that. It's probably just a very specific kind of symptom of anixety. Anyway, I got through it and really enjoyed myself.
He's Not The Bloke For You, Love
I don't understand why Jude Law is having it off with Fran Drescher. Run for the hills Sienna.
I don't understand why Jude Law is having it off with Fran Drescher. Run for the hills Sienna.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
I'm All Out Of UTZ, I'm So Lost Without You
Not once but twice I ordered a carton of UTZ chips from the U.S. Nick got into this brand when he lived in D.C. For a joke one time I ordered a carton online of assorted flava-flavs. But when the carton arrived it really wasn't a joke because the chips were fucking amazing. First there were the regular chips cooked in cottonseed oil in all the kooky flavours (Carolina BBQ, Crab and Red Hot, yeah baby). Then there was Grandma UTZ's cooked in lard (plain and BBQ, so lardfully delicious). Homestyle cooked in soybean oil (plain and BBQ, BRING IT!). Kettle Classics cooked in peanut oil (plain and smokin BBQ, soooo gooood...). And finally I think we got an assortment of Pork Rinds... just to close the artery and lock the door. I brought them to work and people's houses... Everyone thought they were great. I have to admit, the lard-cooked ones were awesome. They were all great though. The second time I bought a case I think it was part of a Christmas gift, and again, we shared them all around and everything thought they were the shit.
Not once but twice I ordered a carton of UTZ chips from the U.S. Nick got into this brand when he lived in D.C. For a joke one time I ordered a carton online of assorted flava-flavs. But when the carton arrived it really wasn't a joke because the chips were fucking amazing. First there were the regular chips cooked in cottonseed oil in all the kooky flavours (Carolina BBQ, Crab and Red Hot, yeah baby). Then there was Grandma UTZ's cooked in lard (plain and BBQ, so lardfully delicious). Homestyle cooked in soybean oil (plain and BBQ, BRING IT!). Kettle Classics cooked in peanut oil (plain and smokin BBQ, soooo gooood...). And finally I think we got an assortment of Pork Rinds... just to close the artery and lock the door. I brought them to work and people's houses... Everyone thought they were great. I have to admit, the lard-cooked ones were awesome. They were all great though. The second time I bought a case I think it was part of a Christmas gift, and again, we shared them all around and everything thought they were the shit.
When Mom Tried To Take Homosexuality Out Of The Word "Gay"
I was startled last night to suddenly remember something from the late 70's that my mom tried so hard to do. When my friends (Susie, Christine and Vanessa) and I were coming up, everything was "gay" - people, things, events. And to us it meant stupid and goofy, ridiculous. But anyhow my mom cottoned on to this sudden explosion in my vocabulary: everything was "gay", and she didn't like that, no siree.
See because she thought we were referring to gay men and that really rattled her cage. My silly pre-adolescent observances shocked her - this is how she interpreted them:
"This music on CFRB is [like a gay man], can we please put on CHUM?"
"Doing yardwork is [like a gay man], all the weeds always come back."
"Scott Baio is so [like a gay man], I'll never see another movie starring him."
"These flared pants are [like a gay man], I want Levis button fly jeans like everyone else."
And all I really meant was "stupid", but the word "gay" packed much more giggle-inducing punch that I used it all the more.
We argued when mom said I was not allowed to use the word "gay" anymore. I countered that I should be allowed to use any word that's not a swear word - and I continued to use "gay" whenever possible. That's when mom tried her reverse psychology on me. She actually looked up the word "gay", declared that it should only ever mean cheerful and happy, and then proceeded to work it into everyday conversation as much as possible.
She declared that so-and-so had a very gay outfit on; that the garden looked particularly gay today; that the birds in the birdbath were playing gaily. The weird part was that in her normal everyday life she never made such observances. She never noticed or mentioned when someone was cheerful and happy. It was so strange. It only lasted about a week.
I used the word "gay" to mean stupid (and "gaylord" to be a stupid person) until about my mid-20's when I started to have more gay friends. I guess I've finally grown out of it mom.
I was startled last night to suddenly remember something from the late 70's that my mom tried so hard to do. When my friends (Susie, Christine and Vanessa) and I were coming up, everything was "gay" - people, things, events. And to us it meant stupid and goofy, ridiculous. But anyhow my mom cottoned on to this sudden explosion in my vocabulary: everything was "gay", and she didn't like that, no siree.
See because she thought we were referring to gay men and that really rattled her cage. My silly pre-adolescent observances shocked her - this is how she interpreted them:
"This music on CFRB is [like a gay man], can we please put on CHUM?"
"Doing yardwork is [like a gay man], all the weeds always come back."
"Scott Baio is so [like a gay man], I'll never see another movie starring him."
"These flared pants are [like a gay man], I want Levis button fly jeans like everyone else."
And all I really meant was "stupid", but the word "gay" packed much more giggle-inducing punch that I used it all the more.
We argued when mom said I was not allowed to use the word "gay" anymore. I countered that I should be allowed to use any word that's not a swear word - and I continued to use "gay" whenever possible. That's when mom tried her reverse psychology on me. She actually looked up the word "gay", declared that it should only ever mean cheerful and happy, and then proceeded to work it into everyday conversation as much as possible.
She declared that so-and-so had a very gay outfit on; that the garden looked particularly gay today; that the birds in the birdbath were playing gaily. The weird part was that in her normal everyday life she never made such observances. She never noticed or mentioned when someone was cheerful and happy. It was so strange. It only lasted about a week.
I used the word "gay" to mean stupid (and "gaylord" to be a stupid person) until about my mid-20's when I started to have more gay friends. I guess I've finally grown out of it mom.
Gregory Peck Is Dead
Gregory Peck, AKA Tweepie, is a budgie that flew into my life briefly, right after the big power outage of August 2003. He landed on a friend's window sill and then later I offered to take him of her hands. I bought a nice cage and toys, groovy food, everything. And the whole experience sucked! He hated me. He was very messy. He smelled. There was no love lost when we finally parted ways.
I put an ad in The Star classifieds for the "under $200" section and had most every freak in the GTA call me and almost blow up my cellphone voicemail box. The ad said I would sell him for $30 - no delivery, everything included. I made an arrangement with the first guy who called to come and pick up Gregory. I waited for this dude all day and then he said he changed his mind. Then I got rather entangled with an elderly couple who wanted a companion bird for their current bird. Anyway, weeks went by, many phone calls were exchanged, and it got to the point where I was going to drive to their apartment and drop of the bird for free... and then they changed their minds because their collective health was failing.
Then - weeks and weeks later - a normal-sounding lady called me asking if the bird was still for sale. Before she could change her mind I drove him over there and dropped him off for free to his ecstatic new owner. This lady - can't remember her name, has since written me cards and left me messages about how lovely Gregory Peck (re-named "Tweepie") turned out to be - how loving and cheerful and tuneful. Hmph. She even bought him a friend, Twyla.
Well, I got a heartfelt call last night from my anonymous bird associate. Tweepie had bad diarrhea and was taken to the vet. When the vet tried to draw blood Tweepie bled out and died in the examination room. Great god! How bad is it when your vet kills your pet? Anyhow the vet is performing an autopsy and not charging the poor girl for any of this "service". The girl is heartbroken. So we talked a little while about this and that. It's not easy to lose a pet.
Gregory Peck, AKA Tweepie, is a budgie that flew into my life briefly, right after the big power outage of August 2003. He landed on a friend's window sill and then later I offered to take him of her hands. I bought a nice cage and toys, groovy food, everything. And the whole experience sucked! He hated me. He was very messy. He smelled. There was no love lost when we finally parted ways.
I put an ad in The Star classifieds for the "under $200" section and had most every freak in the GTA call me and almost blow up my cellphone voicemail box. The ad said I would sell him for $30 - no delivery, everything included. I made an arrangement with the first guy who called to come and pick up Gregory. I waited for this dude all day and then he said he changed his mind. Then I got rather entangled with an elderly couple who wanted a companion bird for their current bird. Anyway, weeks went by, many phone calls were exchanged, and it got to the point where I was going to drive to their apartment and drop of the bird for free... and then they changed their minds because their collective health was failing.
Then - weeks and weeks later - a normal-sounding lady called me asking if the bird was still for sale. Before she could change her mind I drove him over there and dropped him off for free to his ecstatic new owner. This lady - can't remember her name, has since written me cards and left me messages about how lovely Gregory Peck (re-named "Tweepie") turned out to be - how loving and cheerful and tuneful. Hmph. She even bought him a friend, Twyla.
Well, I got a heartfelt call last night from my anonymous bird associate. Tweepie had bad diarrhea and was taken to the vet. When the vet tried to draw blood Tweepie bled out and died in the examination room. Great god! How bad is it when your vet kills your pet? Anyhow the vet is performing an autopsy and not charging the poor girl for any of this "service". The girl is heartbroken. So we talked a little while about this and that. It's not easy to lose a pet.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Back In Circulation
I'm back. I've had some adventures. Some are known, and some are a secret. I had 3 varied weeks of sickness, health, joy, pain, sunshine and rain. I've healed well for the most part. I have a small part of my wound that isn't scabbing over - about the size of a dime. It's infected and I'm starting some antibiotics today. It doesn't hurt. Mostly I just get tired now that I'm back to work. I'm absolutely knackered and dying for my bed at 9pm each night, can't even open my book.
I read I Am Charlotte Simmons by Thomas Wolfe, By the Shore by Galaxy Craze (her real name), and The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst. I read The New Yorker article about Revenge of the Sith (called "Space Case") and it made me laugh out loud (C-3PO is referred to as "a gay, gold-plated Jeeves," and the author mocks the speech patterns of Yoda by saying "Break me a fucking give"). Laughed I did! I also read about 15 magazines cover to cover. I watched Oprah a couple of times (I'm still not into it, as my stay-at-home mom friends are). Some shows I did get into were the west coast Family channel viewings of My So-Called Life (11:00pm, nightly), and two home shows based on insanely messy people sorting out their houses. One show, American, 1 hour long, is called Clean Sweep. The other is a half hour Canadian show called Neat. I adored both the home clean-up shows. But My So-Called Life is terrible! It's so slow and stupid, or whatever (as they constantly say). But I still like it. And I also watched Corrie everyday. That was about it for TV. When I could get up and venture downstairs I would do laundry and tidy the kitchen (poor Nick; he was run off his feet!). I eventually started to walk the dog in week 2. The dog got hugged and cuddled a lot. The cats too.
A physiotherapist named Mary visited me everyday. She's an Irish lady in her 50's who made me work very hard doing strange little movements with my feet, knees and legs. The physio was extremely challenging. I don't know how people get up and leave their house two days after surgery and go to a clinic to do it. I had it in house for two weeks and it was all I could manage. Anyway, our hard work paid off and I seem to be ahead of schedule in terms of mobility and flexibility. My muscles still look a little strange and the knee is still a little swollen, but nothing compared to the day after surgery when my toes looked like breakfast sausage and my leg had a cankle and my knee looked like a melon.
I'm back. I've had some adventures. Some are known, and some are a secret. I had 3 varied weeks of sickness, health, joy, pain, sunshine and rain. I've healed well for the most part. I have a small part of my wound that isn't scabbing over - about the size of a dime. It's infected and I'm starting some antibiotics today. It doesn't hurt. Mostly I just get tired now that I'm back to work. I'm absolutely knackered and dying for my bed at 9pm each night, can't even open my book.
I read I Am Charlotte Simmons by Thomas Wolfe, By the Shore by Galaxy Craze (her real name), and The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst. I read The New Yorker article about Revenge of the Sith (called "Space Case") and it made me laugh out loud (C-3PO is referred to as "a gay, gold-plated Jeeves," and the author mocks the speech patterns of Yoda by saying "Break me a fucking give"). Laughed I did! I also read about 15 magazines cover to cover. I watched Oprah a couple of times (I'm still not into it, as my stay-at-home mom friends are). Some shows I did get into were the west coast Family channel viewings of My So-Called Life (11:00pm, nightly), and two home shows based on insanely messy people sorting out their houses. One show, American, 1 hour long, is called Clean Sweep. The other is a half hour Canadian show called Neat. I adored both the home clean-up shows. But My So-Called Life is terrible! It's so slow and stupid, or whatever (as they constantly say). But I still like it. And I also watched Corrie everyday. That was about it for TV. When I could get up and venture downstairs I would do laundry and tidy the kitchen (poor Nick; he was run off his feet!). I eventually started to walk the dog in week 2. The dog got hugged and cuddled a lot. The cats too.
A physiotherapist named Mary visited me everyday. She's an Irish lady in her 50's who made me work very hard doing strange little movements with my feet, knees and legs. The physio was extremely challenging. I don't know how people get up and leave their house two days after surgery and go to a clinic to do it. I had it in house for two weeks and it was all I could manage. Anyway, our hard work paid off and I seem to be ahead of schedule in terms of mobility and flexibility. My muscles still look a little strange and the knee is still a little swollen, but nothing compared to the day after surgery when my toes looked like breakfast sausage and my leg had a cankle and my knee looked like a melon.
