23 September, 2006

fresh baloney sandwiches on the house

it's been a while since i've placed numbers in front of random thoughts. pumped full of anti-histamines, decongestants, expectorants and anti-inflammatories, here goes:

1. i am listening to lounge'y shit: tango-flavoured, spanish-speaking seƱorita sounds so very hotttt and sexxxxy! which makes me wonder why we multiply the letters for goooooood things but not bad ones? can one be buttttt ugggggly? it doesn't work quite as well, does it?

2. i fear i may have turned into a cat person, or at least moved a few more steps toward the cat side on the dog-cat continuum. up until about a year ago i would have slaughtered anyone for even suggesting such a possibility. why the change, you ask? well, cats don't stink from the mouth, do not need to be walked, do not slobber. you can pet them, just like you would a dog (unless you're my mom - she barely gets to enjoy her cat due to its severe psychiatric problems, which cause it to spend vast amounts of time up in the heating ducts instead of earning its kibbles by purring in a lap, but i digress, which, come to think of it, i haven't been doing that much of lately, which, upon further reflection however, is more attributable to my lack of regular posting than to some miraculous brain augmentation which brings with it a better grasp of the subject at hand and an ability to stick with the aforementioned subject instead of running madly off in all directions...what was i talking about?). ah yes. you can pet a cat and then you can leave the cat and go have a life without feeling guilty or fearing your furniture will be eaten. so all the furry love but without the guilt, the early morning walkies and the doggie breath. and you get purring, which is really really cool. when i made the mistake of informing the spouse of my change of loyalty, he calmly told me that i was welcome to get a cat just as soon as the divorce becomes final. hah!

3. speaking of physics (hey, cats are made of protons, neutrons, electrons AND there's schrodinger's cat, so we kind of were talking about physics. indirectly.) what is it about packing that makes things multiply? why are there always more things to put into boxes than there is room in the boxes? also, why in the name of all that is good and holy do we have to do this AGAIN, and please please please jebus, do not make me do this again for the next several years. grrrrr. one more stunt from mr. m's company will have me going ape shit in the middle of their corporate headquarters. i promise you, there will be mouth froth. there will be inarticulate yelling. there will most likely be violence. i. do. not. want. to. keep. moving. any. more. okay? have we got that down?

4. must be the theraflu, (the american version of neo-citran) because i am definitely feeling better. i hope tonight's dreams do not once again force me to reconfigure the messed up psyches of a large segment of the planet's population following a botched attempt at psychological engineering. it is exhausting. believe me. i did it all last night. i don't know how successful i was. mister monkey still seems pretty odd. (he's doing a naked tango as i type this. he's just so durn cute!)

5. my mom is pretty worried about how sick i am and has been getting on my case because i haven't seen a doctor. well, in the u.s. it was too much paperwork, and now we are pretty busy packing (can't you tell? watch me pack!). she fears, and i sorta quote (well, my memory ain't what it used to be, plus the drugs...), that without antibiotics things could get bad. the intonation of this last word scared the bejeesus out of me, for some reason, and the danger of my careless attitude toward my own health suddenly became apparent and i asked mr. m what would happen if i did indeed need antibiotics and failed to get them in time (obviously i was filled with visions of death, shrouded mourners, many many shrouded mourners, sobbing crowds, flag at half mast etc.). which is funny, cause i am the one in the health profession, and he is an engineer, but i felt all confuzzled and murky and thought that perhaps i was failing to see some important Truth about the situation, because of my unwell brain. but he said that i'd just be sick longer. phew! THAT i can handle. here i thought i was going to end up stuck full of needles, breathing through a tube, surrounded by chipper nurses with professional attitudes and cold hands, hospital smell permeating all, droopy flowers and a hallmark balloon instructing me to "get well soon," and the sexy sexy hospital gown in a fetching light blue design, exposing my well toned buttocks (well, i think they're well toned, i can't actually see them, so they might not be, and if so, keep that news to yourself) to the universe at large, eventually succumbing to the illness and forcing my well-meaning family to tearfully pull the plug, and then those crowds of mourners and endless speeches about how wonderful i was... but if it's just a few extra days of feeling really shitty, well i can totally get behind THAT!

6. since i refuse to end on a nice round number, i am forced to add one more point. i hate it when i force myself to do this. i mean, what's wrong with ending on a 5? but you see, it all starts innocuously like that, and before you know it i'll be sporting a diamond ring, blonde hair, driving a hummer and voting conservative. first you fulfill numerical expectations, then you succumb to materialistic and political expectations, and next thing you know you are wearing a particular colour "because it's IN this season." right. i think not. i will NOT wear a colour because it's IN. although i might happen to be wearing it entirely by accident. and i will not write 5 points. or 10. although, come to think of it, i might have used nice round numbers in previous posts, like my 100 list. but i have grown since then. i have totally improved as a human being. i have taken steps toward enlightenment, and although i may never ever be able to sit in the lotus position, i feel, deep down inside, that i have moved forward. onward. so 6 it is. and, ooooh, what a six it is!

zephyrs of the dawn

when we arrived in our long-abandoned niagara falls apartment, mr. m wrinkled his nose and proclaimed that it smelled. moi, being congested as all get-out, asked if it still smelled like curry. no, mr. m replied, it smells like ass. well, thank heaven for small mercies like my nasal congestion. we have not lived here in 5 weeks, so whatever ass smell wafted through the air, it did not belong to us, and as forebearing as i am when it comes to our own personal ass smells, i will not put up with stranger ass aroma. i just won't. can you hold that against me? no, i didn't think so.
chicago was great. the little that i saw when i wasn't busy being a bed-ridden consumptive heroine of a victorian english novel, holding a discreetly blood-splattered hankie to my pale lips, was just as i remembered it. in fact, i felt like i'd never left. i got the flip side of a similar but much worse sense of deja-been there, deja-done that when we drove into niagara falls last night. and now, while i swoon consumptively every once in a while (i hate how weak illness makes me!), we are packing up our belongings (which have mysteriously multiplied - arrrrghh! materialism, how i hate thee! your subtle lures, your sensuous smiles, your pretty pretty baubles i simply cannot do without!) and on tuesday we go home.
do you care? no? then why aren't you reading something interesting elsewhere?

20 September, 2006

japanese eggplant does it for me

ok, so it wasn't go roma pizza, it was california pizza kitchen, but it was so good i ate the whole damn thing. while bitching to the husband for coming home at ten pm, leaving me to waste away all sick like with nothing for company but cops, lawyers, sociopaths, serial killers and sexual deviants. and a jar half full of pickles. good night, darlings! mommy's very very happy right about now.

feed me, somebody please, feeeeeed meeeee

so i got sick. between the smelly airplane air, the coughing masses, the humidity, the chicago air quality etc., i'm now sick. i spent the whole day in bed, pretending to read a book while i surf for law & order reruns. it is amazing how many hours of l&o one can scrounge up in the course of a day. i'm wearing a 100$ designer nightie (that i paid 2$ for) and little yellow ankle socks, my hair is doing wacky anime type shit, my lungs make that soft purring sound of a really expensive jaguar, and i am cold and achy all over. i've eaten everything in the fridge that was edible (except for some suspect and highly smelly kimchi) and i am hungry. unfortunately mr. monkey had a post-work dinner, so i have been sitting in bed drooling over any and all commercials that feature edible products - even toothpaste....hey! i DO have toothpaste! tom's of maine gingermint and licoricey ajona. and a jar of pickles. but here's hoping that mr. m will arrive shortly with what i have been fantasizing about for the last several hours - go roma thin crust spinach and roasted vegetable pizza. and i'd better feel better tomorrow, because my innards are feeling all clammy and gross from all that law & order.

19 September, 2006

dear god,

i've been thinking, and this whole leaving a small footprint thing is sooo over. i've changed my mind and now i'm ready for your blessings. shall we start a little list?
i'd like a house. a big house. a big big BIG house with a three...four car garage in the front, air conditioning, cathedral ceilings, cathedral windows, wall to wall white carpeting, a formal dining room far from the kitchen, a formal living room for fancy sofas that no one will ever sit on, a breakfast nook, a den, a great room, rumpus room, games room, family room and bonus room, as well as many many shiny bathrooms with gigantic jacuzzi tubs. also, i'd like a pool. whether indoor or outdoor, i don't really care, since i don't intend to actually use it but only mention it in passing during conversations with people who do not own a pool. i'd also like a bit of a yard, all nicely fertilized lawn, watered and mown with alarming regularity (though not by me, duh!).
furthermore, i'd like several big cars. full leather interior, navigation systems, gps, compass, automatic EVERYTHING, a truly loud stereo system and not one but two dvd players, 'cause why not? i'd like a big loud motor boat and a couple small loud jetskis. and snowmobiles. and quads. and some motorbikes.
i'd like a big diamond ring. i'd like genuine overpriced prada purses, some manolo blahnik shoes, and clothes i pay full price for for a change. and i'd like to be blond. really blond. platinum blond! and let's throw in some liposuction of the general gut area. and botox those crow's feet that are really starting to piss me off, and acrylic nails done every two weeks. and a boob job, though i haven't decided yet in which direction i shall take that.
give me a cell phone that does it all. i want it to take shitty pictures, i want it to play mp3s, i want it to be a personal organizer, a calculator, a computer, a blackberry, blueberry and kiwi fruit, and a tazer.
i also want to hunt, god. i could use some trophies on my walls.
you see, god, i want to assume full stewardship of the planet and what is a good stewart if not someone who leaves a nice big footprint to show she's been and gone and damnit, nobody'll ever forget. so how about that? are you ready to bless me god?

17 September, 2006

mister monkey dives in

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the truth at last

i always suspected this sort of thing happened.  Posted by Picasa

hello dolly

i am in chicago for a week of mister monkeying around, and trying to eat at as many of my favourite places as is humanly possible. we've already done the chicago diner (although i am devastated because those vegan vandals simultaneously removed the meatloaf AND the shepherd's pie from their menu), the wishbone (mmmmmm, crawfish cakes), and buca di beppo, which has the very very best eggplant parmigiana i have ever laid tongue on. today was supposed to be nookies for their seasonal pancakes and chilaquiles, but if mister m continues with this sleeping bit, we might miss out.
this pisses me off since the reason he is sleeping and sleeping is that last night, against my old lady wishes, we went to the berlin. and while, yes, it is a great unassuming, and definitely unpretentious gay dance club, i really would rather have gotten a good night's sleep and been up and at'em early enough to grab the special menu at nookies. and the man sleeps on. grrrrr.
so keep coming back here to read about my spectacular culinary adventures! there will be eating! there will be whining at tightness of pants (and not because i am wearing the "skinny black pant" that the gap seems intent on foisting on the world of women, few of whom sport the prerequisite lack of any curvature whatsoever necessary to carry the look off without thoughts of bratwurst springing to mind unbidden)! there will be run-on sentences! there will be mouthwatering descriptions! there will be heartburn! there will be far too many exclamation marks! so come back y'all.

america, fuck yeah!

some things i miss about living in the usa (in no particular order):

1. trader joe's which is THE best organic lola granola supermarket chain anywhere (take that, yuppified overpriced whole foods!)
2. teena, phil, shana, shawn and jan
3. cheap gas (although i am theoretically in favour of the price of gas reflecting the actual cost of oil, it's still nice to pay less as opposed to paying more - such is human nature)
4. chicago diner (if you're in chicago and craving vegetarian diner food, i highly recommend it)
5. the perpetually unfinished and overpriced yet mesmerizing bean
6. nookie's for breakfast (cranberry bread pudding pancakes - enough said)
7. cheap shopping (see 3.)
8. cheap flights (see 3.)
9. unlimited cheap yoga (hmmm)
10. $5.99 yellow tail wines (is there a trend here? what? canada is the new sweden or something? it's not THAT much more expensive. unless you drink a lot of wine...ahem.)
11. the chicago waterfront
12. the extreme friendliness of the people (even the republicans, so help me god!)

some things i definitely don't miss about living in the usa (again, in no particular order):

1. the jingoistic slogans (yes, yes, we get it, you're proud to be american, blah blah blah, can you just shut up about it, get informed about world politics and elect someone smarter already? thank you!)
2. the ubiquitous stupid misconceptions about canada (no, you will not have to wait a week to get into a hospital if you have a heart attack. really.)
3. "god bless america" bumperstickers (there are other countries out there, you know)
4. the stretching of vowels beyond all reason (it's "canada" not "caayynadaaah," it's "pat" not "paayyyaat," and it's definitely NOT "bahnaaaaaaynuh")
5. guns (in case you haven't noticed they aren't exactly helping either your crime rate or your world image, but hey, if it's in the CONSTITUTION it must be right.)
6. even bigger cars than north of the border (do you really need that escalade?)
7. an overabundance of hummers (see 6.)
8. the breathtaking contrast between the rich and the poor
9. the idea that universal healthcare for all members of a really really really rich country* is a socialist pipedream (most developed countries have some form of it; they are hardly all card carrying mao-loving stalinist commie pinko lefties)
10. the belief that CNN is actual news
11. the idea that if they do it to us, it's terrorism; if we do it to them, it's "spreading democracy and freedom" (whether the bastards like it or not) - it is tragic that from the congo, through nicaragua, to present day conflicts in the middle east, bullying in the name of democracy is the policy of choice, while massive human rights violations go on and on at home.
*the irony of quoting the cia here is not lost on me

04 September, 2006

the tooth fairy cometh

when you spend most of your day fantasizing about death, you know you are not having a good weekend. on the surface, it is a long weekend, the weather is beautiful, my friends and family are around, so what gives? a toothache. ever had one? i most seriously do not recommend it. it makes jumping out of a third storey balcony a welcome diversion (plus the possibility of morphine at the hospital...mmmmm...morphine). it makes coherent thought rather difficult. it makes sleep impossible. i slept approximately 3 hours last night. the rest of the time i paced, i prayed to all manner of deities, and i wept. big crocodile tears. sobbing pleas to please, please, please make it stop. as i sat there on my bed, rocking back and forth, weeping, i must admit i felt somewhat silly. i am, after all, a big girl. but i felt like a little girl who needed her mommy. or her mister monkey.
i am better now (touch wood, y'all). and please bear with me - i will write more regularly when i have a computer of my very own again.