30 November, 2006

awake while (the very young and the very elderly part of) the world slumbers!

i'm still up! like a big girl!







(yawn)

important newsflash

just needed to add that broccoli has got to be the yummiest substance known to man. almost as yummy as red wine. and chocolate lava cake. and other things that are almost as yummy or quite possibly yummier. but broccoli is right up there. especially smothered in mister monkey's homemade miso sauce and sambal oelek. just sayin', is all.

four kinds of citrus fruit plus several bananas

the afternoon has been spectacular in its total and complete uselessness (unless you count the purchase of some soy candles). i failed in nearly all things that i set out to do but at least the afternoon was not a total washout - i managed to drunkenly stagger around wal-mart, having competely forgotten what i went in there for in the first place (socks). i suddenly and inexplicably got really really tired but because i am going to an adult cookie and wine gathering tomorrow evening i must practise and try to stay up late tonight like a big girl instead of hitting the sack at my recently typical 8:37 (or thereabouts) p.m. sigh.

so i drove the car focusing every ounce of energy on not falling asleep, driving slowly, deliberately and with much fear and trepidation, which reminded me of many a whitecourt evening spent driving with crazy joan, smoking pot and yelling "act natural!!!" every time a cop car drove by, which in that particular town was rather often. gosh, i even had the red eyes and the scattered thinking! at some point at wal-mart (i was there far longer than i wanted to be simply because i could not find my way out; i swear it is designed to trap pot-heads and very very tired people) the Disembodied Voice paged someone called gerald goldstein and for a split second there i actually wondered if that was me. you know you're in trouble if you are uncertain of your own nomenclature (or if you fancy yourself a gerald goldstein).

the ride home was uneventful. but just now i tried to stick the speaker poke-it (whatever the fuck it is called - you poke it into your laptop and it hooks it up to your stereo), into the usb port and the computer didn't like it. i don't blame it - if someone tried to poke me in the wrong poke-it hole, i would so not be impressed. and don't even try with the oops cause i'm onto you sucker!

oh yeah, a funny thing happened to me on my way home from work. i stopped by save-on to pick up some curly willow and thus walked home carrying a long twisty stick. at one point i had to walk around a thoughtless audi (well, the audi was thoughtless because it is merely a car, the thoughtlessness i am referring to was its driver's) and when i passed i heard what sounded like "nice wig" and while i was wearing my chicken hat with the ear flaps, you would have to have one hell of an imagination or vision impairment to think that was a wig. after a second i realised that the thoughtless audi driver had actually called out, "nice twig!" so, okay, thanks. but then my overthinking brain had to go and think this: it is cold out. inside car is warm. to yell out one must roll down window = effort+cold (oh wait, an audi driver would never do anything as lowbrow as actually roll down a window, they have buttons for that i hear) but still. the point is - much effort was made to inform me that my twig was nice. perhaps he thought it was important. so thoughtless audi driver: thank you. and nice car!

i think that perhaps i will end now and go play some tetris. that is sure to do wonders for both my red eyes and my powers of concentration.

DISCLAIMER: because of my extreme tiredness this post will indubitably have many mistakes and spelling errors and inconsistencies. i would apologize but why?

29 November, 2006

dystopia! dystopia! and then i link to the conservatives a bunch of times!

i was scouted yesterday by the progressive conservative party. ok, i am kidding, but only half kidding. i had a very nice patient who happened to be working on the PC leadership campaign, and after our very pleasant chat she told me i seemed like a very intelligent girl and while i stood there glowing ('cause really, who doesn't like having their ego stroked?), she told me i needed to go out, purchase the $5 membership (yes, in the PC party!) and vote for her candidate in the party leadership race. i smiled and told her i was a tree hugging leftie pinko, but that didn't seem to phase her. apparently her daughter is one too and her daughter told her to say to people like me, "mom, tell them he is the best of the worst." so i am supposed to go out, buy a membership in a party i do not support, and vote for the lesser of the multitude of right wing evils swirling about in the PC soup. the scary thing is that i will consider it, because there is right wing, and then there is RIGHT wing. i am more likely to support merely big business, than big business in bed with religion (they would argue about who gets to be the top and who gets to be the bottom, and then big business would be all like, hey dude, i am Big Business, i go on top, and religion would get all slitty-eyed and surly and try to sneak in the fact that its daddy is, like, GOD and stuff, but big business would have none of it cause its god is mammon, and then religion would pout but give in because who doesn't find Big Business just a little big sexy, what with the expensive armani silk tie carelessly tossed on the bedside table, and the hand-stitched italian loafers, the rolex, and its big strong muscles, political and otherwise, and really, in the end, religion knows that nobody can make it whimper with pleasure like Big Business. i mean, they call it Big for a reason, nudge, nudge, wink, wink)

lately it's been cold. it's been really cold. in case you haven't been paying attention, it's been really truly bloody cold. -48C with windchill some days. so as i walk to work and back i get increasingly frustrated with the stupidity of the general populace. now i know i have bitched about this already, but i can't get over it. an unbuttoned leather coat, no gloves and no hat is not sufficient. it just isn't. and as far as i am concerned an intricate hairstyle does not excuse lack of hat. so, den mother of edmonton that i am, i was walking home yesterday, bundled up in my multiple layers of fleece, down and rabbit fur earflaps, and saw yet another man in a leather coat, gloveless, hatless, largely hairless. something snapped (granted, something small and soft and largely harmless) and i called out to him, "hey! where's your hat?" poor dude figured that no stranger would thus accost him on the street and did a quick mental calculation, figuring that somewhere under the bunny fur earflaps must be an acquaintance or co-worker so he smiled, made the "i did not recognize you" grunt, and yelled out "hi!" i smiled and kept on walking. poor guy, probably even now trying to figure out which of his many business acquaintances would have shown such smiley concern for the warmth of his shiny noggin. but it was me. just me. next thing you know i'll be going up to strangers and buttoning their coat, spitting on a kleenex and wiping off that something in the corner of their mouth, and pushing the hair out of their eyes (hipster girls, beware!)

mister monkey and i have been going to bed really early lately. i like it. this morning i got up at 7 and am happily blogging away, watching the rosy fingered dawn creep all over the sky like some pastel alcoholic in the last throes of consciousness (ahem). i had a kick ass dream last night: a travelling art show featuring la giaconda (except in my dream she was much better looking), a bunch of panicking nuns running down a steep hill (a visually stunning moment, my crazy brain, i thank you), greyhounds balancing exercise balls on their heads while wading through swampland, joan mixing strong drinks for me in a little cabin in new brunswick somewhere, lights flashing in the sky - is it aliens? should we be afraid? no, it's only the stock exchange (crazy brain, what you on?!?), and driving an ice cream truck. i think there might also have been alligators. oh, and trying to rustle up an edwardian hairstyle with only three bobby pins? i wouldn't recommend it. hard work. that's what dreams teach you, i guess.


would that be all that i wanted to communicate to you, my lovely (albeit silent) audience? yes, i think so. bundle up! remember, it's cold out!

25 November, 2006

in the arms of the chickens




following last night's wine-o-rama i had the typical drunk sleep, i.e. short. woke up before the sun and was out of bed before 8, which, on a saturday, is just plain stupid. which makes me wonder - is there also fancy stupid? with, like, lots of frills and smocking (check out the engorged alien brain coloured background!), or wearing a little tiara and a fuschia feather boa? because if i am going to be stupid, i think i'll take fancy over plain any day. so, where was i? oh yes, on a tangent, where i can be found many a day, wondering around, eyes wild, hair uncombed, a little bit of drool in the corner of my mouth, searching frantically for the way back to Topic. which today was Early Morning Awakening Following Excessive Consumption Of Alcoholic Beverages And Pizza. onward and upward, dear friends! so, like i said, i'm up. i ate 3 mandarin oranges, powered up the old vaio, and checked for updates on my favourite blogs. then i continued my obsessive backlog reading of mimi and lo and behold, there in the midst of a summer 2004 entry, was my holy grail. ok, perhaps i exaggerate, perhaps it wasn't actually the holy grail, just a really nice philippe starck sippy cup, or sleek designer wine glass. but still - i have been fascinated for a while with the idea of overlapping circles of friends, and to illustrate this idea i always use set theory that i remember from my years in elementary school in poland. you know, the one set has green things, the second has mushrooms, and in the overlap you have green mushrooms. i vividly remember this concept from either grade 1 or 2, and for some reason it made an impression on me, perhaps because it was math presented in a nice tidy number-less artistic format (one can really go to town with funky mushrooms, and don't even get me started on green things!), but i never knew/remembered* the english name for this, and then, BOOM, here comes mimi and gives it to me straight: VENN DIAGRAM! yippeee! life is a series of venn diagrams!

*then i got to thinking that, wait a minute, perhaps i knew this all along, perhaps i even blogged this, perhaps you are all reading this and thinking, gee, you are just fancy stupid, because this "discovery" ain't nothing new either to us or to you. but then i realised that perhaps i was suffering from a touch of hangover paranoia, and even if all of the above accusations are correct, that doesn't stop me from being excited because my little brain forgets things (like playing peek-a-boo with a baby, and then you suddenly wonder if the baby can be that dumb or if the baby is maybe just humouring you and thinking to itself, gee asshole, i know you don't actually disappear, just stick your head behind the chair, but hey, if you're having fun, who am i to stop you? although that seems just a tad too complex for babies, but what do i know?).

i just ate that last piece of spinach feta pizza that was sitting on the dining room table and i continue to be famished. i am entertaining fantasies (hello fantasy, care for a cocktail? how about a miniature sausage wrapped in bacon on a toothpick? the glasses are over there, make yourself at home, i will begin juggling flaming chainsaws presently) of mexican themed breakfast items - chilaquiles, huevos rancheros or huevos divorciados... good god, what i wouldn't give for a nookie's breakfast today. although lest you think that our humble burg boasts no good breakfast places, let me hasten to shush that notion (notion, shush!) and explain that edmonton has many great breakfast places (and if anyone out there even so much as thinks of denny's and smitty's, i will go over there and kick your unimaginative bad food loving ass) but to the best of my knowledge none of them serve chilaquiles. the only place that does serve something they misguidedly call chilaquiles is julio's barrio and they make it like a plantain pie with tortilla chips somewhere in there, but, man, chilaquiles it ain't. so perhaps this is the morning to bundle up and walk across the bridge to the sugar bowl and have their deeeelicious huevos rancheros and check out the art exhibit by that anonymous graffiti dude who has been making edmonton so much more interesting (see above, or wherever the hell they put the picture, goddamn my computer ignorance). and, in an aside, how nice to actually eat huevos rancheros that have flavour, unlike, say, at the highly overhyped cafe mosaics, where i am forced by the sheer tastelessness of pretty much all of their dishes to dump a truckload of salt on my plate to get any kind of sensory ooomph.
and now for something completely different:
yesterday we took two pictures to be framed: one was my own work, a 3 month belated wedding present for my cousin and his wife, the other a 5 year belated framing of our own wedding present fom mr. m's aunt. now as happy as i am that someone would buy us a (gigantic) painting, painstakingly wrap it and ship it across the atlantic, i have some pretty mixed feelings. it's not horrible, per say, it's just....average. not at all the kind of painting i myself would buy. and it's not some small thing you can hang in a corner hoping nobody notices. no. this is big. nay, BIG! but i finally figured that the painting means a lot to mr. m because the aunt who sent it is close to his heart and also because he likes it, and damn my snooty taste, love matters more than my standards (and who am i to set the standards anyhow - our place is covered with tits and ass of my own creation, and i'm not saying they are of the highest quality). the point i am meandering slowly towards is that, hot damn, framing ain't cheap! but a good frame goes a long way towards taking a so-so (ginormous) painting and making it almost elegant. let's hope it works.
it is after ten - do i have the conscience to wake up my chronically under-rested husband so that i can get fed?
you read enough. i go now.

24 November, 2006

sweet jebus and little helper monkeys, it might be a drunk post!!!

outdoors: very cold. -28C with windchill.

indoors: toasty warm, big lebowski just watched for the nth time. much laughter ensued.

wine status: highly recommend trapiche. inexpensive and yummy and i might have consumed a leeetle more than absolutely necessary.

social update: mostly everyone notified of shindig on the 9th. you wanna come? i am making puff pastry and stuffing it with mushrooms, herbs and possibly even goat cheese. i think it might be fun. although we will not have a tree, we will have christmassy decor, and two (count'em: TWO!) pregnant women, which, come to think of it, will lower the alcohol quotient, damnit! still, it ought to be fun, and, if nothing else, it will force me to wash the bathroom floor (again!)

food (and booze): all save one piece of pharos popeye pizza consumed in drunken hungry gorgefest, crumbs flying, spit splattering computer screen, greasy hands wiped on classy bits of paper towel. followed by pinocchio gelato (bacci) and much much wine, and, in the case of mister monkey, big rock grasshopper beer followed by tequila and coke, for god knows what reasons. sheesh, are we international or what! but mostly supporters of local goodness. yay.

phonecalls: message from sis-in-law regarding family dinner tomorrow, call to cousin to explain bit of lebowski lenin/lennon dialogue, call from parents (lebowski-like tennant who refuses to pay on time), call from chicago jan, (with cheerful aside from pitur) who, at this very moment, is painting the town red in chicago. thank god i can go to bed before the birds. but, damn, i do miss chicago. mmm....nookies......mmmmm...chicago diner.

other stuff: post-wine horny. did you want me to share that with you? probably not. still, the whole point of drinking is to lower inhibitions. so, witness those inhibitions lowering. wheeeee!

other other stuff: we walked to the pizzeria and pondered the really rather simple idea that, given appropriate clothing, any weather is walking weather. why does a big chunk of the population not get that? it's the appropriate clothing bit that they seem to find difficult to fathom. what i want to know is this - why is it that you rarely see anyone in the summer wearing a wool sweater, sweating like a pig, complaining about the weather, but it is very common to see its polar (hah!) opposite, the winter bunny, hatless, mittless, brainless, coat open, bitching about the falling mercury? is it some sort of anti-darwinian thing? WHAT? THE? HELL? IS? WRONG? WITH? YOU? PEOPLE? IT. IS. COLD. OUT. perhaps your hair is nice. perhaps it is really nice. still, you look like a total idiot. put a fucking hat on. okay?

other other other stuff: good night. i lurve you. really. i do!

23 November, 2006

young goats and desert blues (or something to that extent)

  • back to the Topic That Just Won't Quit (a.k.a. Gee Your Life Smells Boring) the christmas party: i had a glass or two of wine with dinner but as soon as the food was done no more wine would enter my suddenly reluctant esophagus. it wasn't until the end of the night that i decided to check the bottle of our vin du jour (or vino del giorno) and...GASP!...it was italian. now i know that last year they served a not-cheap australian yumminess, so this was no cheap italian swill. lesson learned: italian wine sucks syphillitic donkey walnuts, and is good only for vinaigrettes and marinades. if you think i am full of shit and/or you disagree, tough noogies. i have NEVER had good italian wine, be it cheap or not. N. E. V. E. R. so if your name is guido, and you and your trusty knee-cap breaking baseball bat wish to get a little closer to me, feel free. it would take more than concrete shoes to make me change my mind. it would take good italian wine. i rest my case (like a steaming meatball atop a spaghetti heap of ethnic slurs and racial stereotypes)

  • i have recently realised that it has been a long time since i was last drunk. i might have been tipsy at the christmas party, but even i have my standards. i think my last decent inebriation was at our thanksgiving long weekend. how sad. am i getting old? am i getting boring? was i always boring? the big plus of drinking is that it makes you far more interesting to yourself (if no one else).

  • mandarin orange season is upon us and we are on our third box this week. i am averaging 6 a day. my teeth hurt, my insides seem to have liquefied and my tongue is raw, but i am man enough, i can take it.

  • looks like our weekend of wine, cheese and teenage girlhood has been smacked upside the head by uncooperative weather. even we will not risk life and limb for wine and cheese. especially considering we have a fair bit of the cheese here (we are running the controversial underground cheese railroad to our less fortunate bretheren in buttfuck, alberta)

  • i can be a really mean person sometimes. mister monkey deserves a nicer wife, i think, but at the same time i figure a nicer wife might conceivably bore him to death, and since i think he is a pretty wonderful addition to humanity, for the good of the planet and humankind i will stay as his worse and definitely crankier half. but if you know any nice, smart, witty, fun girls, introduce them to me* and i might reconsider. boring nice girls with applique sweatshirts and big cars need not apply. and no trixies either.

*and when i say "introduce them to ME" i really do mean it. no going behind my back, or you will find out how mean i truly can be. GRRRRR!!!

22 November, 2006

this one might really be about boobies

1. in case you were wondering, i was not too much for mr. m's christmas party. that title went to the triple D girl (got milk?) with the way too small dress. i was mesmerised by her mammaries and i am a girl (perhaps not 100% straight, but generally boycentric). don't get me wrong, she was not in any way, shape, or form particularly attractive, but the breastages undulating inside a summer dress far far too small and weak and ineffectual at this whole containment thing were like a car wreck - i simply could not look away. so, hurray for boobies. double hurray for big boobies. triple hurray for ginormous breasticles that fought with the roast for room on her plate. really. wow.

2. did you know that julio iglesias did a CD of great romantic classics? and by great romantic classics i mean 80's crap that worked really well for those junior high dances where the small pimply boy and the tall gawky girl hugged on the dancefloor while swaying arrhythmically, he hoping to cop a feel of her prematurely sprouting boobies, she trying to hide said boobies from the world. and while i don't mind a little julio (don't laugh, i never said i was anything but monumentally uncool), i do prefer when he stays within his limited linguistic and octave range and does latin tangoes and shit. when he started in on "careless whisper" i thought i would choke. which, you know, would not be the end of the world, except that i happened to have a sharp pointy instrument inside some dude's oral cavity at the time. so yes, julio sings george michael, julio sings the beegees, julio sings (i shit you not) willie nelson. yes. willie nelson. yes. julio. i know. so i figure the next step for julio is to record an album of 80's romantic metal ballads. julio singing whitesnake, julio singing platinum blonde, julio singing poison. get out yer wallet, ma! just in time for christmas!

3. speaking of julio, why is it that most dental offices play easy rock? what is it about the dental office that inspires the drones that people its antiseptic hallways to play easy rock? any ideas? because i think i just found the reason for my emotional slump. i swear, if i hear celine dion one more time i will surely drink a whole bottle of banana flavoured fluoride and vomit myself to death.

4. i hate to say i told you so, but i really did. i told you so. i told you you were a judgmental shallow person (with a slight ex drinking problem), a tad chunky around the middle, and perhaps larger than average of nose, but definitely judgmental. why this litany of sins aimed at moi-self? because it turns out that the girl with the sausage roll bangs is really a rather cool person with a great sense of humour and not a total bowling-loving geek who hangs out at old folks' pink macrame craft sales. will i learn my lesson? do goldfish snowboard?

5. off to whitecourt for a wine and cheese evening, followed by a weekend of...hmmm, what shall it be? i am absconding with t's teenage daughter, and there will be shopping, giggling, make-up, hair, goop-on-face, cotton-between-toes and other femaleish activities. i am very slightly scared, but i know i can do it. perhaps i will simply drink a lot at supper and have her drive me home from the mall - that would be a real educational experience, and it would hardly surprise her. will consider. (t - relax! i am kidding! i would NEVER let n drive my car!)

6. "cold enough for ya?" no. not until my snot tinkles like ice cubes on the sidewalk, not until teenagers and fahionable (cough!*stupid*cough!) people finally put on hats and mittens and zip up their goddamn coats, not until comfort-loving assholes actually have a reason for idling their gas guzzlers for more than 30 seconds. until then, it is not cold enough for me. but thanks for asking.

20 November, 2006

really dull post, proceed with caution

tired

i just erased the entire boring post and the above word was the only one that survived the scalpel. so there you have it. it pretty much sums it up.

18 November, 2006

any way you slice it it's still sliced bread

i am getting ready for the company christmas party. mr. m's, not mine, since i officially do not even have a company right now, although i will gladly say yes to any invites from either my temp office or my former office - i will go far for free grub'n booze. really. you don't wanna know how far. provided, of course, it is quality grub'n booze (in fact, precisely not the kind of grub'n booze commonly referred to as "grub'n booze;" i am more of a dainty victuals'n fine wine type of girl).

mr. m is napping, having gotten up at the ungodly weekend hour of 8:30 after an uneventful friday night full of delicious thai food and NO casino royale (stupid tired husband, grrrr!). i am listening to a multidisc putumayo collection and making myself beautiful. last night when i tried on my party dress (for which i paid a whole $15 canadian two years ago - god i am cheap!) mr. m greeted me without much enthusiasm because apparently he thought i was TOO MUCH for his company party. but i refuse to put on my sunday best or that mother-of-the-bride type dress commonly seen at this kind of event. call me a snob, but i am who i am and just because every company wife looks like she gets her hair cut by a lawnmower with a curling iron attachment and shows up at company barbecues wearing lovely applique sweatshirts, does not mean that i must stoop to that level. screw them all, the boring company wives. so, if you must know, i look damn good.

we will drink free wine (stealing the untouched bottles from the overwhelming majority beer-drinkers' tables), eat good food, and if it is boring as hell, we can still catch the 10pm showing of casino royale. have i mentioned that i really REALLY want to see this film? i am a james bond ho. i even once went to see it alone (i lived alone in smalltown, alberta) after dining alone, and shocked everyone at work the next day by admitting to this insane behaviour. dinner out...alone? followed by a movie...alone? good god. poor thing. she is either pathetic or crazy. i was neither. i simply wanted to see the latest james bond. and, for the record, i will eat out alone and i will go to movies alone and refuse to think this is some sort of crazy person behaviour. wearing applique sweaters to company functions is.

17 November, 2006

i'll take "status quo" for a thousand, alec

i have spent the last few days fending off intense sadness. i might dismiss it in my mind as being purely hormonal but strangely enough the origin of the phenomenon has little bearing on how it makes me feel. and it has been making me feel pretty shitty. wednesday morning as i trudged to work through darkness and slush, i felt like howling. it took me 3 hours to stabilise, and since then there have been more bouts, though perhaps of lesser intensity. so i started to think why this particular month has me fantasizing about valium - usually i am more bitchy than sad, and this time i am sad with a vengeance. so what gives, gentle readers? what gives is this - we have found ourselves in the very unique position of shopping for a house! i know, i know! nobody anywhere ever has been in this strange situation before. it is bizarre, unique and unprecedented. but wait, you say (butting in your ugly logical head as usual), you are wrong! everyone everywhere is always buying houses! people do it all the time without going through anxiety, depression and the Big Black Vortex of Howly Thoughts. riiiight. i sort of knew that, all along. but thanks for pointing it out.
so yes, we are sort of half-heartedly house-shopping and despite frequent pep talks i give myself, explaining gently and in small unthreatening words, that it is normal to buy a house, that people have done it before and it is a perfectly non-scary situation, my reptilian brain will have its status quo or it will subject the rest of me to mindblowing mini-depressions.
we have sort of found one, pricier than we thought but in a perfect location and in move-in condition. we also found a couple cheaper and in need of some TLC but in good location as well. we were also looking for land in southern BC which looks like a great place to build that off-the-grid house for when civilisation takes a nosedive (you are welcome to come and camp out when that happens, but you will have to take up some chores, like feeding the goats or something to earn your keep, because in the new world order there will be no slackers and only through honest hard work and cooperation can we reestablish the US postal service...oh wait, that was a kevin costner movie. sorry).
so we are now faced with Choices, which forces us to make Decisions, and in the interim we must do Research, and also sign Important Documents. all of this is reducing my poor little status quo loving reptillian brain to a howling blob of jelly. reptilian jelly. which reminds me (in an unprecedented leap Off Topic and into more Capitalised Wonders!) of last week's pre-sadness moment when mister monkey asked me casually at the table what savoury jelly was called and, being well informed about gastronomical matters, i lightly answered "aspic." this was greeted with a 3 second silence before the two of us looked at each other and dissolved into peals of adolescent laughter. but alas, and alack, that is indeed what savoury jelly is called. "waiter, can you tell us the aspic du jour?"

back to the topic at hand:

nothing new has happened. except for this: i came home from work yesterday and found a message on our machine from some dude saying he had a meeting scheduled with mr.m at eleven yesterday and he was just wondering what happened. mr. m came home and expressed total astonishment at apparently having had this meeting. so once we figured out who the guy was, and that he had legitimate claims on our time (we will not waste our time, it is precious, remember this when you come round with your bibelots and your silly fancies) i contacted him this morning to arrange an actual meeting. so he tells me not to worry, apparently mr. m called him back to apologize. at this point i am utterly flabbergasted - we get snarked at for missing a meeting we never arranged, and then we call back to apologise for missing said meeting, all without ANY KNOWLEDGE OF THIS! so either mr. m has a split personality (though you'd think i'd have noticed by now) or this guy got us confused with someone else. at any rate, meeting now officially (re)arranged, and all is well in the universe. except in the dusty corners of my small reptilian brain, but not to worry, little reptilian brain, today you shall see the new james bond movie, and tomorrow you will drink free wine at mr. m's company christmas party, and that should make you happy. are you happy, little reptilian brain?

14 November, 2006

blip

okay, some would say that i'm just not that into you, but i am saying: i have nothing to say. blank. go play some and come back later.
by the way, thanks, anonymous.
though still...ONE comment. harrumph! ONE freaking comment! gee, i can feel the love from here.
so yeah, go play. i will sulk some and possibly think of topics for my audience of one.

mood: cranky

13 November, 2006

fine! be like that!

okay. i was trying to be nice, perhaps a little sad and mopey, hoping for a little bit of compassion. but noooo. okay. you're not talking to me? i'm not talking to you either. until someone other than the usual suspects (and you know who you are j, p and t) writes me a goddman comment, i am going to write my nonsense down on post it notes, make teeny tiny paper airplanes and throw them off my balcony. no more blogging.

p.s. ckua is playing "i'd like to teach the world to sing" WHY? what is wrong with you, baba? dear god, i am nauseous!

10 November, 2006

it is possible, but not probable

i am getting a little tired of talking to thin air. my sitemeter tells me that someone is reading this so HEY, SOMEONE! TALK TO ME! a little itty bitty comment won't hurt you, right? right. or i will stop posting (groans heard around the world). okay, i probably won't stop because it helps keep me (relatively) sane. but still. WRITE ME A COMMENT (and not just the usual suspects, either).

I. the tree is gone. it is history. it is OUTTA HERE! we hauled its creepy, corpse-like, plastic shedding tree-ass back to the vehicle and it shall be returned forthwith.

II. when in doubt when choosing paint colours, always go with a good name. our bedroom brown is called (i kid you not) shag bark, and while i love the colour, i often wonder what that means exactly. is it the bark of a sexually active tree? or is it the sound one emits when doing it doggy style? when we pulled a while-you-were-out surprise for my cousin and were faced with tough paint choices we did the name game and went with squirrel. the colour was a greenish grey and looked great, but i think the squirrel in question might have been way past its expiry date.

III. am i the only one deeply bothered by comments like "who's your daddy?" and "you are a hot mama"? my daddy is my daddy, thank you very much, and i ain't your mama, especially if you want to get it on, okay? cause i think that's just gross. upon further reflection i guess "baby" falls into the same freudian-oedipal-icky category. can we keep the family out of our bedrooms, please? what's next? "oooh, grandma, i want you!" or "hotdamn, uncle, you're my man"? like i said. gross.

IV. we're hosting a family dinner tonight and then, once the elders take off (as they are wont to do almost immediately after eating - i try not to be offended, it is their Homebody Way) the young'uns will remain here and drink wine and partake of curdled dairy products and unleavened breads of various descriptions. i might have a headache tomorrow. just a warning.

V. have you noticed how cranky i am? just wondering. cause man, oh man, i am very cranky. and i will thank you to keep your comments about how normal that is to yourself, or wherever you are, EVEN IN, SAY, SAN DIEGO, I! WILL! KICK! YOUR! ASS! eventually.

08 November, 2006

update, in a lovely shade of yellow

tree - still in living room. currently lit up in freaky corpse-like LED way. still not sure if it is a keeper. but the thought of taking it apart and hauling its VERY HEAVY green ass back to canuck tire overwhelms me. will probably stay here till january.

food - steaming about 9 beets. reason: polishness, temporary insanity of husband while grocery shopping, hard to eat raw. also, we enjoy pink poo (if you don't know what i am talking about, go eat some beets, digest, and get back to me)

floors - still atrociously dirty. damn, i HATE cleaning floors. i would rather lick the toilet bowl clean. almost. ok, maybe not. but almost.

hair - colour touched up to cover the disturbing bits of grey that nobody believes are highlights. colour - moi, only better.

uniforms - 3 new ones. pumpkin, chocolate and pistachio. no, not ice cream. uniforms.

future - possibility of job in fort mac. dude phoned. same name as old boss which had me a little confused because why would an increasingly strange ex-boss phone me in the middle of an evening? but it was the new guy.

floors - still filthy (i was hoping for a miracle). perhaps i should blog less and mop more. AS IF!

frustrations - husband befriends fruit packed for lunch and takes it for rides to work and back. must explain: fruit to be et, not befriended. friendly un-et fruit does little for colon health (poo again! twice in one post!)

mood - tired. constantly tired. what's with me? i sleep enough hours in a night and i am always tired. must be the winter thing.

now - mister monkey is serving salad. must go eat it.

07 November, 2006

in which i stop for a moment, take a look around, and realise that we are not in kansas anymore

1. go see this mockumentary NOW! it is brilliant and very frightening, but not in how far from the truth it is, but rather how very very close. i think that was the point, so pardon me for stating the obvious. but go. rent it. hunt it down in your alternative video store or library. go see CSA!

2. there is a christmas tree in the middle of our living room. it is kind of awkward because it makes it nigh near impossible for me to use my remote control and forces my butt off the couch if i want to listen to ckua LOUD. why is there a christmas tree in your living room, you ask? surely you have not become one of those people, aga, you say. surely you wait till at least mid december to christmasify your home! what gives? oh worry not, we are just testing it out, qoth i. the year before last i had had enough of the pain that invariably accompanied the draping of lights upon the tree. ok, perhaps it was not meant to be painful. perhaps i was doing it wrong. whatever. every time i did it my hands were a bloody scratched-up mess, my hair had plastic needles in it, and still the tree was lit up all lopsided-like, with the majority of lights clustered around either the base or the top (depending on which end i started with) and the end result was me, sitting on the floor pissed off, drinking a heavily spiked eggnog, glaring at the tree, radiating black anti-christmas karma. so we took it to value village and were effectively treeless until this week when i finally found not only a pre-lit tree, but one pre lit with LED lights, which, as you well know, are better for the environment and the wallet, and are overall superior except for the strange pallor of their light, corpse-like and haunting. but hey, perhaps corpse-like and haunting is what i want in my christmas tree! you never know. so now we are testing it out. what bothers me is that i always figured a pre-lit tree would have the lights somehow incorporated into the branches but all it is is a regular tree with string lights wrapped around the branches. the only difference between the pre-lit tree and one i wrap myself is the fact that each line of lights is spaced evenly and ends neatly at the bottom of each tree section, and consequently no loss of blood occurs. still, it looks ok but somehow i am not sure. perhaps it is the corpse-like pallor that keeps me from wholeheartedly embracing the tree. perhaps it is the unfluffed appearance of the tree (i do not want to fluff it because then i will have to defluff it when/if we return it, but unfluffed it only begs to be returned so i have created a little self-fulfilling prophecy of flufflessness). i am seeing it in the daylight now for the first time, however, and i kind of like it. or maybe i am just getting used to having a (unfluffed) tree in the middle of the living room. bored yet? god, i am. ENOUGH WITH THE TREE ALREADY! ok.

3. i have a gun. it is not a real gun, but it is a heavy metal mock-up of a gun and, for some strange and inexplicable reason, it makes my heart glad. the thing is (oh what is the thing? you cry) i would never have a real gun. i would not have it in the house. (i would not have it with a mouse, i would not have it here or there, i would not have it anywhere!). but this thing makes my heart glad because it is pretty, it is realistic, it is heavy (i like heavy things, they seem more substantial somehow, like our cutlery and, increasingly, mister monkey) and it cannot kill (well, that is not exactly true - i could wollop someone on the noggin with it repeatedly until there is a hole big enough for the spirit to ooze out, but, no, i would not do that. i hope.) the funny thing is we found the gun when we were cleaning out my mother-in-law's Basement Of Doom. we only scratched the surface and took several huge bags of useless fabric, throws, quilts, curtains, "silk" flowers and scary hats to value village. we did not expect to find a gun. (as i type this i look over to where it lies and smile a little fond smile at it: my little gun...ok, i am beginning to frighten myself - what am i, a latent texan?) anyhow, when you drop by, do not be frightened. and if you drop by and get very drunk and want to do a little shakedown, remember it is not a REAL gun and we will whoop your ass and laugh at you and then you will feel very bad and not want to come over any more and i cannot afford to lose any more friends, what with my, you know, issues, and all.

4. i have to go to work today at 3 (poor, poor me, i know) and i hate it because it messes with my schedule. i am sitting here in my unmentionables, unbathed, scary-haired and smelly-mouthed and i know that this blessed state cannot continue because i must go to work. and when i get home at the ungodly hour of 9pm, i will only have time to wash the blood and pieces of gums out of my hair and then it'll be bedtime. i hate working evenings. it sucks. as much as i hate getting up at 5:45 to work my morning downtown shift, i know i'll be home by early afternoon and be able to Do Stuff. but you are Doing Stuff now, you say. yes, but Doing Stuff with the imminent workday hanging over my head is not the same as the carefree Doing Stuff after work. don't ask me to explain. it's just the way it is. and may i say, you've been questioning me a little too much lately. geez, can't you just leave me alone, already?

5. when i was a kid in school, i used to get in trouble for doodling in class. the teacher would generally say something like "stop doodling and pay attention to me," which was annoying because the only way i could concentrate on them was by doodling. the moment i stopped doodling with my hand, i would start doodling with my brain, and although my body assumed the look of extreme concentration and focused attention, i was in fact off slaying dragons, exploring strange planets and generally all manner of Not Listening. the same holds true today. as soon as the phone rings i stop all i am doing, answer the phone, and turn on my solitaire program. some might find it rude that i am playing solitaire while talking on the phone, but it helps me focus my attention. it is not disrespectful, it is just The Way Of The Moi.

6. if my life was a song, i would want it to be a french chanson, something by jacques brel or charles aznavour, the type of song that evokes a really strange sense of nostalgia in me - after all, how can i be nostalgic for france of the 60's, being neither french, nor alive in the 60's. still, that's that. if your life were a song, what would you choose? i really want to know.

7. do you think it is time for me to wash off the night filth? perhaps a shower will restore to me a feeling of humanity. perhaps.

06 November, 2006

nepal

my dad's 5 week trip to nepal is almost over - take a peek at this gorgeous picture he took of some little ones of the himalayas. Posted by Picasa

mount wha?

that big famous mountain, what's it called? you might have heard of it. Posted by Picasa

monks! monks! monks!

need i say more? Posted by Picasa

05 November, 2006

stippled stipulations

i am shocked and amazed how well this blog thing works - i send out a weepy guilt trip message and it pays dividends (hello e!). now if someone would only send me tonnes of money and a detail-oriented cleaning lady, ok? and don't think i've forgotten about the feather duster, either!

more stuff, please mommy:

1. i have this thing where my sensory wires seem a bit mixed up, like whenever i hear a number, i see it in colour, and specific numbers have specific colours that don't change. i always thought this was just a wonky side effect of the extremely high levels of air pollution in the particular region of silesia where i was conceived and birthed, but then recently i came across an article (and damn if i can find anything on this to share with you!) about this very thing. it seems that some people are just wired like that. this "transsensoriness" extends to other things too, and while i will not get into details, let me just say "marital nookie in a key of mauve."

2. we are all of us uneven. left foot smaller than the right, right hand weaker than the left, left breast less pendulous than the right. when i was dating my highschool sweetheart, we had a formal portrait taken at sears portrait studio (gack, i know) and it was this photo that brought that particular truth home to me: i have an alpha breast and a runt of the litter breast. it is lovely to find that out in private. less lovely to have it trumpeted from a 8 by 10 glossy. it was not a nude shot, by the way. i don't think sears does that sort of thing.

3. i have recently heard that it has become fashionable in poland to christen children with classic american names like brian or jennifer, but spelled phonetically. this is so mindblowingly stupid it just makes me snort in derision. after snorting, i moved on to this thought: what if it went the other way? would you guys call your children some nice classic polish names, phonetically spelled? i volunteer my own: agnyeshkah. or how about koobah? yoorek? gosh, i could go on. but i won't...sheesh, first the raisins, now this.

4. and speaking of Annoying Things About The Country of My Birth, i don't know if you follow any kind of euro-politics, but goddamn if the recently elected polish political twins aren't the dog-ugliest leaders of any nation on this here sweet earth. i think they even beat out north korea for that distinction. for those of you not in the know (and i hardly blame you), they were child stars of a 60's kids' movie which, apparently, is now "discouraged" from being played in poland. presumably because they were much much cuter then and who needs to be reminded. anyhow, hurray for democracy.

5. did i tell you we went to see the cat empire at the starlite room and it rocked? i stayed up past midnight without bitching and everything!

6. seven is black. two is grey. five is yellow. three is red. just in case you're wondering.

7. hockey season is now on again, which roughly translates to me swearing at the tv a lot . i resolutely continue to refuse to learn the difference between offside and icing, i figure it's enough that i get the puck-in-the-net bit, which is more than i can say for our fine team. poor mactavish seemed near tears on wednesday. craig, may i recommend bare bum spanking? it might motivate them a bit. and, just for fun, check out this guy - talk about misnomers, eh? tee hee. anyhow, they seem to be doing well, but i don't want to set myself up for another heartbreak, so in classic junior high fashion i will make fun of them so they don't realise i sort of think they're cute. especially this guy. but you already knew that.

04 November, 2006

t-shirts made of blood

i hate how insecure i still can be. any time i write an email to someone whom i don't know really really well (and, let's be honest, sometimes even when i do) and they don't immediately respond because, gosh, i don't know, they have a LIFE, i start to examine my communication with this person to find what offensive or possibly hurtful thing i might have said that resulted in The Silence. this happens every bloody time. perhaps because i tend to answer emails shortly after having received them (barring our recent moving spree), i take the extended silence as punishment. it is sad and pathetic that even now, at this lightly wrinkled Age of Self Acceptance and Love i can turn into a little blubbery puddle of self-recriminations. i sit in the corner and wonder why you won't be my friend. just thought i'd tell you, that's all.

02 November, 2006

freshly baked nonsense at a discount

1. today i went and splurged on some brand name overpriced personal grooming items. i will not tell you what and where and how much because i am basically a frugal person (and when i say frugal, i mean bloody cheap) and i am embarassed to admit that i paid $X for item by company Y, when same item by Cheaper Drugstore Version Of Company Y would have cost me $X-10. (hey! this is the first time i have incorporated mathematics into my blog! rejoice. it is also the last. mathematics. bleh.) but i figure, hey, i'm a working woman now and if i want a swankily packaged goodie once in a while then, damn it all, i can get one. especially considering that there are highschool students who routinely groom their bits with company Y's many excellent products, while i am wracked by paroxysms (oooh that's fun to say! PAROXYSMS!) of guilt for buying two overpriced luxury items when i am Making The Big Bucks. it's like i am channelling some sort of strange calvinist guilt from god knows where. oh, i know where. my dad. he's really cheap. he's in nepal right now and he makes a point of going to the bakery every evening at 8pm, because that's when the buns are reduced by 50%. jesus, dad! this is fucking NEPAL! how much can they be full price? 3 cents? anyhow, you get the general idea of the genetic shenanigans at play in this here chicklet. i.e. moi.

2. mister monkey used his trump card today. his trump card was the first phlegmy signs of an upcoming illness. the result - we went out for pho. sign on door of new vietnamese restaurant : PLEASE USE ANOTHER DOOR. tee hee. a nice polite way of saying, keep on walking fucko, use another door to ANOTHER restaurant, preferably in ANOTHER neighbourhood altogether. aah, immigrants. they are so very very cute. (disclaimer for politically correct hypersensitive types - i too am an immigrant and thereby get a "make fun of immigrants free" card, so there)

3. i keep getting these neat and interesting ideas for blogging as i go about my daily business of living but because i am too bloody lazy to make even the most perfunctory of notes i forget, and then sit down at the keyboard and stare blankly at the screen hoping for divine inspiration. which is never forthcoming. (damn you, ye gods. damn you.) to prevent this loss of inspired ideas i have decided to jot down notes for future blogging. i will now have pockets full of lint covered slips of paper filled with cryptic notes like: "nuns on bicycles", "construction worker tango", or "the good one about snakes". and then i still won't remember. and the sitting and staring shall resume.

4. mister monkey demands my presence in bed. i bid you all a very fond adieu.

01 November, 2006

ask and ye shall receive

phew, i guess all the burnt animal sacrifices (a BIG apology to my neighbours) have finally paid off! i ask for strangers bearing comments and, lo and behold, i get a comment. from a stranger. and not just any stranger, either. a bona fide ultra cool stranger from ckua! and he didn't even know i had just increased my subscription. well, we have just proven boys and girls, that karma is alive and well, now keep an eye on the news to see if any heads of state spontaneously combust in the next little while.

howard, by any other name...

1. last night, except for one short fit of maniacal, uncontrollable coughing, i slept. the night before the tickles kept on coming fast and furious. so fast and furious, in fact, that i suddenly found my sleepy self naming them to keep track, the way they do with hurricanes. they were each christened with a glob of phlegm* and a celebratory explosion of wheezing: howard, jack, bob, lou, howard, jimmy, howard, charlie, don, stan, howard...i stopped when i realised that a lot of my throat tickles were named howard.

*onomatopoeia at its finest

2. yesterday i met a patient who understood the need to run away from civilization. we were talking about the frustrations and stresses inherent in living The Life and i mentioned that mister monkey and i often daydream about running away and joining a commune, where we would devote our lives to growing heirloom tomatoes, sewing hemp undergarments and milking goats. my patient told me she and her husband often talked about running away and becoming cowboys. it was nice to meet someone who got it. the patient before that felt that all of africa's problems were a result of "their" gross lack of respect of life. the implied "they deserve what they get" hung in the air over our conversation. this man was married to big business. (no, i didn't stab him.)

3. i read several blogs regularly and two of my favourites (mimi smartypants and frankie can't relax) are written by women who make a big deal of their anonymity. when i started blogging it never occurred to me to keep my identity secret. what's the fun in that? besides, if it wasn't for my friends, nobody would read this. i think they find this a nice substitute for actually talking to me - still get the info, minus the endless bitching, complaining and drunken diatribes against big business, bush, ignorance, twinkies, SUVs, unfair tax breaks for oil companies, loud children at the mall, skinny pants, big hair and whatever else i go on and on (and on) about. although, come to think of it, isn't that precisely what my blog is all about? nevermind. also, a call out to my friends - share this with others. do it. i need more readers, i need rude comments from total strangers. i need to feel validated by the world-at-large's interest in my life. i want an audience, damnit!

4. ckua's fall fundraiser is on right now. DONATE! better yet, become a subscriber. better that than cable.

5. hurray for kumquats. so sad, though, to find out that potted kumquats are subject to mealybug infestations. so, get informed. be a fount of information at your next AA meeting. make friends and influence people. know your kumquat!

6. it is time to go and have a breakfast of quality.