27 March, 2008

the persistence of ink

did i ever tell you about the time i was away from fort mcmurray and i came back, walked into the bathroom, and there, above the mirror, right where i couldn't help but see it, was scrawled "look out!" it was clearly written in black felt tip, and then painted over with the same mental institution off white that graces all the walls of our "luxury accomodation."*

had this been there before? i found that hard to believe since it was RIGHT THERE yet i could have sworn it hadn't been there when i left for the weekend. was this a case of the creeping felt tip? we'd discoverd this particular scientific phenomenon when we had brilliantly written out measurements on drywall using a sharpie and found that multiple layers of paint would not cover this shit up. ha ha ha, to the new owners of the house.

so what do you think? me, blind? mr monkey, cruel and mysterious? or just another drunk fort mcmurray contractor with no knowledge of the persistence of ink?

*i swear that's what they were calling this place, what with its cheapola counters, its faux wood and faux wrought iron (plastic both) beds and its poorly installed linoleum flooring. it saddens me to think of the person who would find this luxurious. and please, do not tell me about all the hut-dwellers of the world, because i don't mean them.

trench coats and bumblebees

a lot of the women from work seem to be dating and/or married to a guy named brian. i wonder if it's the same guy.

kinda like mister monkey's theory that all vietnamese restaurants have the same bathroom. seriously, check it out - it is the same damn bathroom, every time! i don't know if it's some sort of glitch in the space/time continuum, or simply a drastic money saving measure (divide the water bill by several thousand in canada alone, and you got yourself some substantial savings).

yesterday, my first patient of the day was jumpy. this is nothing unusual. what was unusual was my reaction: i wanted to smack him, burst out crying and go home...well, maybe not that unusual. any alternate career pointers would be greatly appreciated.

26 March, 2008

are we there yet?

5 months of winter and counting. i don't wanna bitch about it. i just want it over. i want it over so badly that as the snow storm hit on highway 63 as i drove home from my easter in civilization, i stuck my finger up at the sky and bellowed at the top of my lungs, "FUCK YOU, WINTER!!!! FUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!"

obviously it didn't work.

but let me warn you - the next person who questions my desire to live in vancouver based on "the constant rain, i just couldn't handle it, blah blah blah" will get a well executed acute case of fist-in-nose disease. i mean, come on!

13 March, 2008

more hilarity ensued

moi, driving along highway 63, heading towards civilization.

mr. monkey, gazing wistfully out the car window at the passing tundra.

moi: what are you thinking about?

mr. m: hitler.

and then i dissolved into paroxysms of giggles, because what's funnier than hitler? ...except maybe bananas.

11 March, 2008

to all the girls who wash their hair with expensive shampoos

dear girls who wash their hair with expensive shampoos,

why do you wash your hair with expensive shampoos? they's no different from the drugstore crap, except perchance they be smellin' a little nicer*. they make your hair no shinier or more manageable** than the cheap stuff, and those of you with shiny, manageable** hair probably would have the aforementioned even if you washed with pregnant yak urine*** and conditioned with pepto-bismol. in fact, that might be the very reason why my hair is not shiny and manageable.** just wondering.

*guilty as charged of loving aveda scents, but it's because i am a sensitive soul and perfumes make me ill; i can only handle the pure green smells of god's little plants (and the pungent musk of yak urine).

**what the hell does that even mean? hair without ADHD? hair that does not gossip and hands in assignments on time? hair that works well with others?

***proof that the internet rocks. prior to google, had i wanted to learn about yak urine i would have had to get off my ass, go to the library and look. it. up. or turn on discovery channel and hope for the best. but here it is, right at the tips of my sausage-like little fingerlings! and hey, i didn't actually learn anything about yak urine at all! but if YOU want to, i have gone and bent the bough from the yak urine tree of knowledge a little closer to your reach!

08 March, 2008

oh yeah.

i have the hiccups.

also, i want to know: do we get to have midnight twice? how does this whole thing work?

woooooohooo! yet another drunken post!

so, like, sorry for the typos, eh?

we just got back from another one of mister monkey's work "team building" evenings, and when i say "team building" i mean "drinking large quantities of mediocre liquor and eating semi- palatable boston pizza food, all on the boss' corporate credit card." i had a half litre of really vile merlot which i mixed with tonic water and limes to make something resembling a sangria. i will go to great lengths to down free liquor; you can always count on me in that department.

i think it's brilliant to fix a "team building" gathering right on the night of daylight savings time change, so instead of getting up at 4:40, mr. m will have to get up at 3:40, which will feel all the better following a j├Ągermeister shot. do not ask me about his j├Ągermeister thing. i find it incomprehensible. i consume cough syrup only when expressly told to by a certified medical professional, and even then with serious gastrointestinal misgivings. but whatever...

so. was i going somewhere with this? not really. but to maintain the playful spirit of the thing, here's a little exchange from my afternoon of errand-running:

moi: i need to go home before i puke myself to death.

mr. monkey: why? what happened?

moi: everybody at walmart is hideously ugly, and the people at staples are only marginally better. i need to go home and look in the mirror for a long time.

07 March, 2008

more organ meat fun for the whole family

scene: mister monkey on a ladder, moi on a bucket, he, wiring a heavyish pendant lamp, me, holding it up, my arms practically falling off due in large measure to my total lack of anything resembling a good physical condition.

moi: how do electricians do this stuff? they must be good at this sort of thing, right?

mr. monkey: hmmm? yes. they are professionals.

moi: so do you think they do this sort of thing alone?

mr. m: yes.

moi: how do they do it alone?

mr. m: they have helpers.


oh i do miss me them tasty organ meats

which is totally untrue.

how love works at our house:

mr. monkey: oooh, i think club monaco* has that hat that i want on sale** by now!

moi: don't you think you have enough hats? and all you ever wear is that funny looking one!

mr. m: don't diss my favourite hat, woman!

moi: it looks like a fucking bucket!

mr. m: YOU look like a fucking bucket!!!

* i have created a monster who likes to shop at quality establishments. when we started out he wore the t-shirts that you got at superstore when you spent over $200 in groceries.

**but like a good monster he carries his master's torch for good quality merchandise AT A REASONABLE PRICE.

06 March, 2008

brought to you by mister tubesteak and other organ meats

it's my birthday and despite the fact that i am (i think*) at peace with my age, i am feeling rather down. i got a home-made carrot cake at work. my coworkers were particularly non-bitchy. my facebook wall was full to the brim with wellwishers' notes and everything seems hunky dory. so why do i feel like crap?

i am sitting on the couch, surfing, polishing off the last piece of carrot cake, and all i want to do is watch a couple episodes of battlestar galactica (yes, we're hooked, ladies and gentlemen, though i really really really want gaius to die already), drink a glass of wine, and then go to sleep. i've been nothing but exhausted lately.

must be old age...

*i hate all that subconscious crap - i mean if i am NOT at peace with my age i would like my subconscious to have the decency to let me know so i can act accordingly, and not wonder why i feel crappy when i really don't feel like i should feel crappy, you follow? no? s'ok. i got lost too. somewhere around the first line.

04 March, 2008

facing the cupcake

braving the consequences, i went, bought and ate the damn thing, and the damn thing was heavenly.

i strongly recommend the coconut and the lime. the rest are merely okay, which is not what one hopes cupcakes aspire to. but the lime one? good lord...if one were to picture an orgasm as a small vaguely mushroomoid lump of dough covered in green icing, one wouldn't be that far off.

get thee to the cupcakeria on denman, and fill yer pants!!!