28 March, 2007

last year there was spring!

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spring, SPRING! with flowers and everything!

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this year there is bubkes!

that's right. bubkes! look it up.

knee deep in dingleberries

today, to quote dickens, was the best of days and the worst of days, like a chimp on a trapeze, i swung back and forth between the mundane and the magnificent, the sloppy and the sublime, the good, the bad and the ugly, the...eh, you get the picture.

the good: having primed myself last night, i actually did yoga today for the first time in a long time. the trick, it turns out, is to talk to myself in a quiet gentle voice and give myself plenty of warning - no sudden screams of YOGA! RIGHT NOW!, no surprises, just a firm gentle statement that tomorrow i will do yoga. and so i did. i am in pain right now, even though i did the entry level stuff (my cartilage is made of firmer stuff than yours, my friend, i do not bend, even my ears do not bend), but it is a good pain.

the bad: unfortunately i made up for this lapse in couch-potatoism by consuming nearly a whole presiden't choice frozen tiramisu which, by the way, was delicious, but was meant to be shared by i believe six people. six skinny people, most probably, who don't know The Cheese Lust, bastards all! near the end i stopped eating not for any reasonable reasons, but because nausea had set in. i also had a salad for lunch but that hardly redeems my later gluttony.

the ugly: the trip to the store to pick up the Tiramisu of Shame was a descent into hell. since we came back to fort mac, we have settled on higher ground and rarely drive downtown. unfortunately i needed to return some library books and so had to brave the terrible roads and the extreme ugliness that make up the fort mac centre. i kept up a steady stream of expletives aimed at the streets, the buildings, the stupid ugly people, the big trucks, the big potholes, the mud, the stench, the garbage and the general fort mcmurrayness of it all. not a shred of my yoga peace survived that trip.

the uproriously funny: i finished terry pratchett's "going postal" this morning and, as per usual, it was very good. i routinely go into the library with hope for one more book of his that i haven't yet read, and the chances are somewhat reasonable since the man must have at least a hundred under his belt. it is always a sad moment when i finish a good one, though.

the unabashedly pretentious: and while we are on the subject of prodigious writers, i started on an anne rice novel. frankly, she should quit. i admit that her earlier vampire stuff was gripping, but now the thin plot is squeezed in between exhaustive descriptions of various characters' constant emotional turmoil: pages and pages are wasted on the tear-glazed eye, the shuddering breath, the trembling fingers, the sighing, the looking, the looking away, all the delicate emotions the likes of which i have neither ever felt, nor ever wish to feel, emotions that go on and on and on (very much like this sentence). i give it one more chapter and then it's back to some can-con (mordecai richler again, hugely enjoyable).

the mindnumbingly dumb: i don't like to be a racist, but goddamn it all to hell, who teaches newfies the english language? i don't care how skimpy your education, you should be able to conjugate your verbs by grade three, at the very least the verb "to be." hell, i could do that in kindergarten, and that was in poland! when a person tells me "i puts it over der" i have to shudder because really, there is no excuse. my entire family of recent and not-so-recent immigrants speaks better english than the people of newfoundland. or at least those of them here. perhaps it's the dunces that they toss out of the rock. who knows. but the next time someone informs me that their "jaw toot" is hurting, i will bring out a diagram of the wonderous fact that, my oh my, ALL teeth are in fact rooted in the jaw, not just the back ones. and then we'll practise how to make the "th" sound. and then i will beat them into a bloody pulp with my chair and run screaming out of the room. and then i will leave mr. m and drive to edmonton, and if you are there, you will have to buy me a very big stiff drink before the police take me away and put me in a padded room.

26 March, 2007

in which the bluebird of happiness (or was it the black crow of orneriness?) takes a crap on my little yellow car

the day at work was a wash-out. i am still in the beginning stages of getting my ass integrated into the office and i wish to god i wasn't so bloody insecure and thin skinned. i wish that the way my mouth works was the way i was inside. and no, nothing happened, i just feel like a schmuck forever asking questions and i fear they have come to hate me in the week i have been there. feh! i shall overcome.

still, oh what fun it is to organize my very own Magical Cart of Dental Stuff. because you see in this office, full to the brim of staff working all manner of crazy scheduled and unscheduled hours, all but two hygienists are itinerant and instead of a bundle on a stick, we each have our very own Magical Cart filled with such fun stuff as gauze, toothbrushes, polishing paste in not one but two delicious flavours and possibly even three kinds of floss! what'd i tell you? the fun never stops! and today, on account of a couple of patients being too busy making oodles of smelly fort mac moola to come in and take care of their equally smelly teeth, i had all this free time to organize my Magical Cart.

and now i am sitting at home, sipping the last of a nice argentinian merlot, eating everything in sight, thinking about the necessity of getting my ass off the couch and going for a walk sometime in the next two days, reading mordecai richler, missing mister monkey who has absconded to saskatoon, where, ensconced in a third rate hotel, he is taking a course on some welding type stuff. or having the time of his life with ladies of the night for all i know, but then again, going all the way to saskatoon for that seems excessive.

oh, and i promise to lay off the "humanity sucks" stuff. not because i don't wholeheartedly believe that, and hell, it got me more comments in the space of an hour than any other post, but it just seems juvenile to write at length about such obvious stuff, especially when others have done it better and with far more research. but don't think i'm promising fluffy bunnies and huggy bears and smiley faces. i can no more change my dour outlook than i can reach back through the years and retrieve both my glowing face and my sharp young brain, both of which incidentally, are most probably nothing more than figments of my overactive and slightly malodorous imagination.

25 March, 2007

the dumb and the beautiful

spurred on by tony, i took the IQ test offered by cbc and was disappointed though not at all surprised that i am not as smart as i used to be*. i was once tested as a kid and another of our little group of "special" youth took a peek at the results and told us how smart we all were. and let me tell you, was i a veritable boy genius! except i was a girl. since then i have slipped a bit, though still retaining my position in the very highest intellectual echelons of the nation. now i always knew that i was creme de la creme: if nothing else, the greasy ring in the tub was proof enough for me. but it seems that the dedicated drinking has had its toll on the poor little brain cells. rest in peace, little buggers, without you, could i ever have ended up where i am, scraping teeth, telling people to spit, wearing blood splatter? well yeah. i could. but i wouldn't be half as interesting to listen to, and that's a fact.

and speaking of purposefully moving in the direction opposite of improvement, i just noted tonight that much of my beauty regimen involves removing skin from my face. i slather on chemical exfoliants, i scrub with goop that mimics microdermabrasion, i peel, i scrub, i scrub, i peel, and one wonders if the object here is to get to the bottom of things. or do i really believe that underneath my 35 year old dermis, lies the glowing complexion of yester-moi? and if not, then what, besides the musculature, bones and other yucky bits (which cover my slowly failing brain) do i expect to find under there? the key to my unbelievable bone structure perchance?

oh, i do so rock.

but humanity as a whole** still sucks.

*and no, i will neither tell you how snart i once was nor how snart i now is. take my word for it: i is real snart. ok?

**see, i hate people, people suck, but persons...aaah, that's a different story. persons have been known to be pretty damn cool. i even like some of them.

in which i take a sophomoric philosophical turn and tell the world it sucks

hey. it's been a while. like i said to a friend, either i'm too depressed about not working or too busy working. either way, no writing.

and then i open up a book which mentions concentration camps in passing, and i want to nuke the planet. because really - the balance of good and bad is just a wee bit uneven. let's say we are having a little contest in which i toss the bad at you and then you toss the good at me and we see who stands in a bigger pile at the end. ready? set. go!

i toss you hitler, because why the hell not start out with the ultimate in short evil psychopaths?
now keep in mind that the little austrian firecracker comes with a big pile of corpses. already your pile is largish.
you are ambitious and so you toss leonardo da vinci at me. and sure, you add some really nice paintings and a book or two of fantastic inventions. still, your pile of dead people is waaaay bigger than that.

next: i throw stalin and his millions of starved, disappeared, tortured and otherwise removed from the present. how you doin' in there?
you throw mother theresa. and, let's be positive, why not, let's throw in the several thousand people whose lives she affected positively. hmmmm....that pile of yours? still bigger than mine!

and so to save your having to read through a play by play, let me just tell you who else i will be tossing your way: african warlords, drug dealers, the mafia, multiple tyrants, psychopathic politicians, every US president who ever decided to alter the course of another nation's democratic elections in the name of democracy (how does that work, exactly?), the catholic church, every other religious zealot who tried to convert multitudes using a sharp weapon and hot tar. now keep in mind that every one of these lovelies brings along an endless string of the dead.

on your side you have a few humanitarians, brilliant artists, musicians, do-gooders and doctors. whatever you throw at me, i can throw that much more at you. i win.

and what do i want, as the victorious one? just that you agree with me that we all suck. that if god exists, he is either evil, or dangeroously preoccupied, or just does not give that much of a crap about this ant farm.
badness affects millions. hah! make that billions! goodness? well, not that many.

and you know what? i'm not even in that bad of a mood right now!

20 March, 2007

a wee gift

go see a show. go see a beautiful show. dig your way out of the snow, both the literal and the metaphorical, the deep feeze of the mind, the endless winter of the soul, go look at the trees, at the buildings, the statues and the lights. the pretty pretty lights. GO!

14 March, 2007

me like, me no like

teena tagged me. here goes:

things i like: cheese, ckua, big boisterous red wines, my spectacular friends, yellow dogs with pink noses, hippos, mister monkey, pupusas, the ocean, big trees, freesias, good books, cold feet at night, small cars, pharos spinach pizza, being places, cornbread, olives, cashmere sweaters, kale, coconut curry, my age, my feet, real hot cocoa, walking

things i don't like: white bread, clutter, italian red wine, bad books, fort mcmurray, long stemmed red roses, drivers who don't signal, republicans, champagne, conservatives, SUVs, idiots, trixies, going places, raisins, gristle, chocolate chips in banana bread, religious zealots, my laziness, zits, my spare tire, backward baseball caps, stupid girls, hot chocolate from a packet, war, watching tv

i could go on and on and on, but i will spare you. tony, it's your turn. and then you can pass it on.

aluminum falcon and all

1. my friend is selling his house in ontario. his agent's name? gaye males. seriously: gaye. males.

2. i have decided i will stop watching movies/shows that depict man's violence against man. also man's violence against animal. i will continue watching shows that feature animal violence against man, because it is less about psychotic power trip, and more about serious meat craving.

3. cannot sleep again. is there a brain on/off switch in the 1972 deluxe model Polish Girl? anyone have a manual kicking about in their garage? i am willing to pay top dollar(canadian)!

4. fort mcmurray finally did the one thing it does not just well, but spectacularly well: northern lights. if you think you have seen amazing northern lights but have not seen them up north, you ain't seen nothin'. they come in through the windows, they scream at you, they dance, green and glowing, streaming across the night sky, even in the presence of street lights. they wow. i suppose it's only fair: paris has its eiffel tower, new york has manhattan, heck, edmonton has its river valley and folk festival , and so fort mac has the most bloody amazing aurora borealis. but please, gentle reader, do not take this as any kind of encouragement to come up here. after all, we've been here a month and a half and this was the only sighting. other than that what does fort mac have to offer? why, the casino of course, where you can get shit faced and end up stabbing someone/being stabbed by someone in the parking lot, and who wants that?

5. gaye. males. hehehehehehehe! hahahahahahaha! oh god. too funny.

13 March, 2007

once, twice, three times a...lady?

speaking of desperate housewives...

the night before last i stayed up and watched a movie on tv: the chronicles of riddick. not that good, but definitely could have been worse. i just had a deep hankering for sci fi, and when i do, anything will do. it's kinda like craving a sachertorte and shutting up your gob with ding dongs, see? since i cannot have another season of firefly, i'll take vin diesel and his creepy cataracts.

as it turns out, that was to be the last tv i got. they turned us loose, cut off the umbilicus of free cable and set us adrift, my law & order addiction be damned. oh sure, you say, i could just phone up shaw and sign on the dotted line and get all the cable i could stomach all for a minimal monthly fee. aha! but that's the thing, you see, quoth i. i have never paid for cable in my life (that short stint in fort mac last time does not count because it was shared accomodation and i needed something to take my mind off the incredible amount of man urine accumulating around the toilet within hours of my cleaning it, until i finally gave up and designated the scary rotted floor downstairs toilet as a "girls only" space and breathed a little easier, but still, a little tv helped calm mommy's nerves, you know?). so no. also, we did not have tv in chicago, in ontario, or in edmonton these five years and done fine. so i can just go read a book like my ancestors and thank heavens i have insuite laundry AND a dishwasher.

and speaking of laundry and urine round the toilet, i have been exposed to a lot of commercials in the month of having tv and here's something i don't get - do people really let their bathrooms and kitchens get to the point depicted in household cleaning product commercials? i mean my tub gets a little grimy in the summer (due, largely, to my love of walking around barefoot in the great dirty outdoors) but nowhere near what tv shows us. is this to make really dirty people feel better? or is it to make relatively clean people like moi feel superior and smug thus preventing us from what we should actually be feeling - panic, anger, a deep seated need to change the world because, surely, it cannot go on like this for much longer before blowing itself up?

just wondering.

12 March, 2007

"oooo, it's spicy down there!"

i am woman ergo i multitask. this is a good thing. unlike mister monkey, who cleans the bathroom* for several hours to the exclusion of all else (save sporadic emergency breathing), i can clean the bathroom, do several loads of laundry and prepare dinner ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

sometimes, however, the multitasking chip backfires on me (sort of like this mixed metaphor). here is a story. it is somewhat embarassing.

in order to streamline my evening routine i usually brush my teeth while peeing, because good god, doing one and THEN the other is just such a long drawn out process, and, frankly, rather dull. combining the two activities means that i get out of the washroom, oh, seconds earlier! so on this particular evening i stick the toothbrush in my mouth, pull my pants down and HEY! is that dust on the bathtub? what's one more task to a superwoman like moi?

and thus i found myself scrubbing the tub with my pants around my ankles, my bare ass gleaming, toothbrush in mouth, drool flowing down my chin. yes kids, i am that swanky. oh SNAP!

quick analysis of the situation brought me the following conclusion - woman: nuts.

however i am not about to give up multitasking. what better way than this to maintain my feeling of superiority over the male of our species?

*yes, he does a better job of the bathroom cleaning, but he does it once a year and thinks it is feasible to devote hours to the task. i do it on a weekly basis and see life as something other than an opportunity to polish tiles.

10 March, 2007

post scriptum

oh, and the billowing, slightly dirty (due to lack of you know, washers and dryers and all, yo) white linen shirts? oh yes, yes, yes! totally brings the whole (tight pants and riding boots) look together for yours truly. you gots to believe me, even if i just fed a whole half glass of sherry to the berber wall to wall.

stop! or i'll shoot! or something!

so being slightly inebriated i figured hey, why not do our semi-monthly quasi-regular feature: the Drunk Post? of course it does take a wee bit longer to type, what with the unresponsive crazy fingers and all, and hey, it sure don't help that i'm watching "ever after" and have the movie paused (purely by accident, i swear) on the prince's codpiece.

gee whiz, i will tell you now, in a moment of alcohol induced openness, that mommy lurves the boy in the tight pants and the riding boots. you name him, mommy lurves him. evil alan rickman in quigley down under? yum. both of them, along with kevin costner in robin hood: prince of thieves? double yum. edmontonian captain malcolm reynolds of firefly fame owes a lot of his sex appeal to the tight pants and boots. faramir of lord of the rings? ditto. really, one could call it an...ahem....slight fetish. in fact, if the oilfield ever demanded of its workers tight pants and riding boots? well, we could be in fort mac a looooong time. and mister monkey would have a big ol' grin plastered permanently to his VERY satisfied face. got it?

damn, i spilled my sherry. excuse me.

back with a fresh glass! teehee!

hey! you wanna know what i did all day? i watched the appendices for return of the king, cried like a baby (hey, it looks like they had a lot of fun making that movie, ok? and goodbyes of all kinds make me sad, so piss off!). i consumed two (count'em: two!) glasses of sherry, and am now watching the cinderella story because why the hell not, what with the men in tight pants and riding boots and all. jesus, i fear you could dress up meatloaf* in the aforementioned outfit and i would drool a little. hopefully just a little. it's like men and blonde hair and big hooters - it almost doesn't matter how horrible the stuff inside the package is, as long as you do get the package. sad, really. still....tight pants and riding boots...mmmmm.....drooooolllllll......ok, gotta go.

*both the singer AND the beef product, though not at the same time.

08 March, 2007

unemployed in boomtown

hi. remember me? the most popular hygienist in edmonton, roughly one job offer a week, hints, compliments, flowers, ass-kissing to the point of slight soreness, all manners of love thrown my way? now? gainfully unemployed and apparently bloody unwanted. when i called back my no-longer-soon-to-be-boss (you get where this is going, no?) and told him those new improved hours did nothing for me, no negotiation ensued. what ensued, you ask? what ensued had the distinct flavour of an extended sigh of relief: wellthankyouverymuchi'msureyou'llfindsomethingelsesoonthankyouverymuchbye. as in, you are too expensive and i will continue to do a crappy job myself as opposed to hiring a professional, on the advice of my (idiotic? retarded? grossly underinformed?) advisors, oh and by the way, i am too much of an asshole to actually tell you this so i will give you a pretend demotion and have you back out thereby saving my honour. or whatever. fucker.

like i said - unemployed.

i am in the one place in canada where jobs grow on trees, where cleaning ladies make 40$/h (and yes, my american readers, that's only 6 cents US but it goes a ways here), where they are importing workers from mexico, turkey and poland, and i cannot get a job.

i am also in the one place where the ONLY reason you could possibly consider living here is to make shitloads of moola, and what am i doing? let's just say that spider solitaire features prominently. and sporadic bouts of weeping. hey! let's pop another st. john's wort and hope for a miracle.

still with me? because if you're not, i cetainly wouldn't blame you. i. bore. me. my depression bores me. recap: ME. BORED. also, ME. BORING.

so if you're waiting for fun peppy posts you might have a little bit of a wait. get comfortable, pick up a book (i recommend terry pratchett if you want a witty skewering of our society with dwarves and vampires thrown in for good measure. i promise you something that i can no longer deliver - you will laugh out loud, so don't read on crowded public transport or you might get committed which, come to think of it, sounds like a lovely way to spend time...nice white room, dried frog pills brought by a thick-ankled nurse, jello, a comfy bed that goes up and down, and restraints to prevent the nervous twitch brought on by waaaay too much spider solitaire, in other words, heaven). and don't hold your breath.

06 March, 2007

moi in the snowy wilds

today is my birthday and i was awakened from a dream that featured many large water mammals (orcas, whales of all descriptions, dolphins, belugas, you name it, it was there) by a phone call from my soon-to-be-boss whereby he informed me of a rather drastic change in our proposed schedule. instead of 4 days a week, daytime hours, 8h a day, suddenly we have 2-3 days a week, evening hours, 6h a day. huh? happy birthday to me? not so much, that. grrrr.

luckily the phone calls from husband, parents and mother in law that followed, all good wishes and love, made me feel a little better. still, i really don't feel that birthdayish - everything seems to be on hold while here, in the snowy wilds of fort mac.

and in case you are wondering, and are too lazy to look it up in my profile, i am 35. and proudly, optimistically so. i will not play the stupid game of pretending my birthdays stopped at 29, because there is no shame in getting older- last i checked everyone was moving in the same direction and bucking the trend is pretty much impossible (unless you are joan rivers). so yes, halfway to 40. yay moi.

i am off now, need to purchase foodstuffs, survival gear (wine), kettle, and have a face-off with possibly-soon-to-be-boss, because i am not so desperate that i will put up with that kind of crapola, especially since the man initially wanted me for full time hours. possibly the people he needs to rethink are his advisors, not your truly. sigh. don't like conflict. so wish me luck, kiddies.

p.s. i will try to go back to writing fun fluffy stuff any time now. promise