don't talk to me about a short summer just because you don't live in california or hawaii. i've lived in both chicago and toronto, and y'all can suck it up and cope. you want real up-your-ass winter? this just might be the place for you. come on down.
30 June, 2009
i just love it when bloggers in toronto or chicago complain about their short summer. riiight. y'all are already sniffing tulips when we are up to our armpits in snow. i know, because i follow your blogs: you write about magnolias; i write about late season snowstorms. you walk on grass; i slip on ice. you dress your children up in cute halloween costumes; my (entirely theoretical) children wear parkas over their fairy wings and furry hats over their tiaras. you talk about the beauty of the fall colours; all i see is white.
last night i had a sort of "brokeback twilight" dream. it began with much fear and trepidation, moved into the phase of shrieks, sighs and meaningful glances and in the end the vampire boy and the werewolf boy lived happily ever after.
let the rainbow flag wave happily over both the undead and the trans-species communities.
p.s. i still have all my arms and legs, but i am starting a massive home painting project so there's every likelihood you'll have a very entertaining post soon enough.
last night mister monkey took out my stitches and did not pass out. the man is toughening up, being with me. all the bleeding fingers he has had to bandage, all the bits and pieces of me that he has had to stuff back in through the open wounds, all the past, present and future trauma is finally making a man of him.
he did well, too. told me not to look, snipped them off and pulled them right out. even i got a little queasy. of course the wounds opened up right away and all my arm guts started pouring out and had to be stopped up with handy circular 3M bandages. i'm ok now. i think i'll live. for a while at least.
i apologize for the extreme boringness of my blog recently. i think maybe i should simply lay off the writing (i'm sure all 3 of my readers will forgive me) until i have something entertaining to say. i mean, sure, my medical trials and tribulations are hilarious and all, but you know, maybe i'll wait until something momentous happens and i actually lose an appendage.
29 June, 2009
lately i am losing the zen-cool that i've been cultivating* every time i see people trying to be smart** and failing spectacularly.
case(s) in point:
"here here" ....aah, you mean "hear hear" perchance?
"persay" perhaps you are referring to "per se"
"ex-patriot" riiiight, that will be "expatriate"
"bonnified" (this from an english honours grad like myself, the horror!) in all probability meaning "bona fide"
and then there are...all those...ellipses...which take...the place of...commas...for stupid people...trying to be...deep.
*make fun of my zen-cool and i shall kick you in a delicate spot. but i will smile beatifically while i do it.
** oh facebook, thy name is idiocy!
28 June, 2009
today we set off to remove the Grievous Sore Of 70's Decrepitude and Poor Taste that is our gas fireplace insert. our house was built in the 40's and the fireplace surround is gorgeous but, like a pustular throbbing carbuncle on the face of heidi klum, from its angular golden face arises a metallic beige and brown Thing that can only be described as an Abomination. it easily takes up more than a square meter of floor space and inspires fear and trepidation, not to mention mild chronic gastrointestinal upset.
the tile job that surrounds our fireplace does little to alter our attitude: in what was doubtlessly a charitable and selfless act, the previous owner commissioned it from the local chapter of Special Slow Blind Uncoordinated Amputees.
so on the agenda for today was
1. attaching curtain rods in the kitchen and
2. removing the Abomination.
the curtain rods did eventually get attached, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth (on my part) and much running around and doing everything else but (on mister monkey's part). the removal of the Abomination got underway around 8pm. yeah, i know.
to add interest and a certain je ne sais quoi to today's proceedings, mister monkey decided to channel rainman on coke. there was twitching, there was random repetition, more twitching, running back and forth and organizing the garage (for fucksakes!), and then there was yet more twitching, followed by the doing of things that could easily be done some other time, or possibly never.
the man spent the whole day in the garage, twitching his way through our entire collection of slightly used toilet tanks and random bits of Very Useful Wood, lengths of pipe, and lots and lots of wires. want some wires? we have lots! free for the taking!
around 8 o'clock, after some of the twitching had subsided, mister monkey opened his second beer and went at the gas installation, because the only thing better than messing with possibly lethal machinery, is doing it drunk. at least then if you get blown to kingdom come, you'll be all relaxed about it: yo, st. peter, how's it hangin' my man?
don't get me wrong. i trust mister monkey's expertise in the home renovating department without reservations. there are few other people i'd trust to reno my house. it's just that today was a very trying day. good night.
26 June, 2009
how many facebook "friends" do YOU have? for a while there i was playing the "friend" whore like everybody else. 365 friends! yay! except i don't even know that many people. i would be forced to ask strangers sitting next to me on the bus to become my "friends" to pad those numbers, and i have not fallen so low yet.
and now, filled to the brim with the joy of purging (clothes! furniture! "friends"!) i have been systematically culling:
so you worked with me for a week last year before being dismissed for a bad attitude? gone!
so we met once at last monday's award show and then talked (very) briefly in the bathroom? sorry!
so we worked together for a long time but now you ignore my every attempt at communication? b'bye!
so you used to cut my hair but your monumental unreliability drove me to self medicate? see ya!
so i (allegedly) met you once at a party over a decade ago? too bad!
and now my facebook "friends" page is a little more reflective of actual friendships or at the very least a degree of acquaintanceship that allows me to look at your name and not feel like i'm selling out for the sake of some mythical e-popularity.
24 June, 2009
yes, it's true. the wind and my silk skirt developed just the right kind of synergy at the superstore parking lot that as i waddled towards my car, weighed down by kilograms of cherries,* both hands full i might add, my skirt kept flirtily floating up around my waist, showing off my underoos and their contents.**
it happened again and again. and it got to the point that i finally thought, fuck it, all of south edmonton has already seen my ass, they can deal with it. if marilyn can do it, so can i!
*yes, kittens, it's that time of the year again - cherry colon cleanse time!
**that would be my ass, wherein i elegantly refer to the title of this post, cause i'm all about the elegance (and ass flashing)(and cherry colonics)
23 June, 2009
the bit about the things that go on and on and get in the way of the other things that need to be done or why my living room remains unpainted
the last few weeks have been so maddeningly busy that my calendar is colour coded to ensure that i show up for work (as needed) and make it to family dinners and gatherings of like-minded individuals. yes, i even need to schedule in the spontaneity of gregarious wine quaffing et cetera. sigh.
some people (like my lovely sis-in-law) positively thrive on excessive business. not moi. moi, i like a nice blank slate of a calendar with the occasional work day (as needed) and a biannual concert thrown in for good measure.
last night's sterling awards, following as they did on the heels of an entire weekend of daily chamber music concerts, pinned the proverbial feather to a camel's ass...or something: i need a breather. today, despite the beckoning cheshire grin of the improvaganza festival, i have decided to stay in, sort mister monkey's dress pants, shred important government documents (oops!) and eat rosemary cheese straws.
tomorrow i have a morning egg run (not nearly as exciting as it sounds*), a lunch date with s, an early evening rendez-vous with a medical surgeon who will hack bits off my arm at my own request, followed by an ice cream date with the above mentioned charming sis-in-law. i am tired already, but want to check every single item off my agenda. i just wonder - when will the walls get painted? and who the hell is going to do it?
just imagine what it'd be like if i had a real job!
*under normal circumstances i'd comment "i need to get out more" but given the contents of this entire (rather dull) post, it might be more appropriate to say "i need to get out less"
the world bank predicts that the economic growth will be slower than previously thought. as a result of this, investor ambivalence turns to doubt and markets plummet.
am i the only one here who thinks this is ridiculous? could the media shut the fuck up with the gloomy predictions, thereby preventing the idiocy of the chicken little trading strategy that immediately brings their predictions to fruition?
i think this economic melt-down could have been handled with a little bit more delicacy by the world's media, but then again headlines trump any kind of social responsibility every time.
sometimes i pine for a good old fashioned despot, enlightened or not.
so off i went with b into the night, be-girdled, be-coiffed, heels going all clickety clack on the vaguely sticky sidewalk. the night was my oyster.
we split a bottle of wine, i made several trips to the mayfield buffet (yes i did) and then we watched several hours of awards for shows i have never seen given to people i have (largely) never heard of and, lo, it was good, and funny and way more entertaining than the oscars. edmonton's got some wicked good talent and i think i need to rethink my anti-theatre stance.
after the show, the dancing began. the band was ok if a little loud but the post-band dj was perfect. i haven't danced this much since...oh...years! my legs were sore but the inspired musical choices made sitting for long impossible. came home well after 2, washed my face and feet and fell face first into bed where of course i had to pay penance of 45 minutes of mental overdrive before falling into blissful oblivion.
a good night, overall. thanks, b.
p.s. oh, and i might have found me a new hairdresser! i'll keep you posted.
22 June, 2009
so apparently i'm not dying anytime soon, but we'll wait until the blood tests come back to be sure. your concern (as evidenced by the swarm of well-wishing comments) is deeply appreciated.
one thing, though, what is it with humans these days? where does it say that it is okay to cough with your mouth wide open, tongue sticking out, in a room full of people, some of them elderly, some surely immunocompromised and some raging hypochondriacs who can still catch a swine flu virus with the best of them.
later in the day i just about asphyxiated on hairspray while getting ready for tonight's sterling awards. my girdle is on, my hair is big - this chick is ready to rock'n roll. wish me luck, kittens!
21 June, 2009
dear mister monkey,
you have been the best mister monkey a monkey could ever hope to find. thank you.
now for the funeral arrangements: please serve yummy cupcakes, you know i like the tart kind, and i know you do too, so go ahead, serve the tart kind. otherwise, seeing as i'm dead, feel free to disregard any part of these instructions that you find inconvenient or foolish. i can't do anything about it anyway - remember? i'm dead!
please burn my body, then put the leftover bits in a receptacle of your choice. a folgers can will be fine. take the ashes and do what you like with them: it's not really me, just dust. you can throw them out and i will not think it disrespectful. all i ask is that you don't bury me because it's a waste of space and all those chemicals are seriously disturbing. i do not want to contaminate the groundwater any more than i already have. if you want to stuff me and keep me in the hallway, or mummify me, that would be cool, too.
please feel free to have a memorial thingie (with the cupcakes), but you really don't have to. if you do, please play that arvo pärt i like. my dad knows which one. it's on the ipod. you can also play that lisa gerard bit from black hawk down. or hey, if you like, play ac/dc or rage against the machine. that might piss me off so much that i come back. polish rap might also do the trick.
invite whom you want or nobody at all. it's your party cause, hey! i'm dead!
find yourself a good woman (after a suitable period of mourning) and for god's sake, don't hold on to stuff! life's too short.
i love you, you have rocked my world.
i have found jesus...irrelevant, largely. religion continues to baffle me. to loosely paraphrase another blogger, religion is believing in a specific fairy, and religious intolerance is believing that your fairy is better than all the other fairies. admit it, put that way, it does seem a little silly, no?
i'm going to see my doctor tomorrow on account of this mysterious exhaustion and the creepy cancer spots on my arm and leg, either one of which could turn out potentially lethal. watch me run to the fairies then.
if i do, feel free to point and laugh, provided you promise to come to the funeral. i'll ask that they serve cupcakes.
several years ago, before we got our ipod, i felt like that kid at school, you know: the one with the perpetually greasy hair and bad complexion, the one whose pants were always a little too short and whose shirt always sported some sort of mysterious stain. yeah, that kid.
here was everyone walking around, white ear buds prominently displayed, sashaying to the inner beat of their sexy apple product. not me. remember, i was that kid. i even briefly considered getting white earbuds, taping their end inside my shirt pocket, and bopping around with all the cool kids, but i didn't. i figured if i was going to be uncool, i'd be uncool bravely, shouting it from the rooftops that i did not have an ipod! LOSER! yah.
then we got an ipod and everything was ok. for a while.
now everyone and their dog seems to have an iphone. and, again, i am that kid. except where i actually wanted an ipod, i have absolutely no desire to have an iphone, especially not with a perfectly functioning little motorola that doesn't scare the crap out of me with its multitudinous functions, an existing phone that actually works that i have no desire to retire to the landfill for its sin of not being au courant.
see, i want a phone that i can use to phone people. the end. i don't want to use my phone to check my email (fingers too big!), facebook people, GPS my exact position, shop, record and mix music, cook a wicked souffle, watch a movie, walk the dog etc. i have things that do all that for me already.
besides, i think this ability to constantly "communicate" is really cutting into our ability to actually communicate. you know, with words spoken out of our mouths while sitting down and facing each other. remember that? or am i just being that kid again?
20 June, 2009
got rained on, which goes to show that just because environment canada predicts a grey cloudy rainy day, does not mean that the gorgeous sunshine won't turn into a shower around 9 pm.
also, buying a tiny, purse-friendly umbrella is a good idea. carrying it in said purse? priceless. i'll try that next time.
oof, the pms thing is starting again, and my reaction lately is to stay home, listen to music and see as little of other human beings as possible, on account of everyone pissing me off so much. more and more, i like alone time, almost as much as monkey time. don't call me.
what actually happened:
little boy: da-ad? what's the fastest BMW? is it the Z40*?
yuppie dad: (smiling indulgently) no, son, it's the MX6. it's the fastest car in the world.
little boy: da-ad? what if you put a V12 engine in the Z40?
yuppie dad: (chuckling and messing kid's hair) it wouldn't fit.
little boy: but da-ad? what if it did?
yuppie dad: then sure, son, it would be very very fast.
it sure is heartwarming to see parents pass their values on to their young, even ridiculously shallow yuppie values...
what i wish had happened:
little boy: da-ad? who's got the baddest booty in hollywood? is it beyonce?
yuppie dad: (smiling indulgently) no, son, it's j-lo. she has the baddest booty in the world.
little boy: da-ad? but what if you fed beyonce a lot of pizza 73 and twelve-packs of donuts?
yuppie dad: (chuckling) son, you know beyonce would never eat that kind of stuff! she subsists on lemon juice and cayenne pepper and sometimes cristal.
little boy: but da-ad? what if she did?
yuppie dad: then, sure, son, her booty would shift into overdrive.
*all car terminology is completely made up on account of me a) not giving a shit and b) not knowing the difference between a V6 and a clamato juice.
19 June, 2009
while i bitch about my tenants' propensity to slam every slammable object in their home, i must admit that to them i am probably the stomping lady, who stomps everywhere what with all the stomping. stomp stomp here. oooh! shiny thing! stomp stomp stomp there! meh, i liked the old place better - stomp stomp stomp. oops, table in the way - stomp stomp trip STUB stomp #@%*! and on and on it goes, the music of our lives.
slam! - stomp stomp stomp - SLAM! - stomp stomp stomp - slam slam! - STUB! - slam - STOMP!
as much as i love our new tenants (what with the distinct lack of asshole dog in the picture, plus they are very nice and lend me onions), i am sick to death of the slamming of things.
the all-hours-of-the-night slamming of the toilet seat on the toilet, the slamming of doors in their apartment, the slamming of the garden gate, the absolutely needless slamming of the back door, all the time slamming with the slamming of things, and then there's the slamming. could we please ease off just a wee bit? this is an old house and i fear we are one slam away from total structural failure. and i just may be one slam away from a murderous rampage...but then who would lend me onions?
sigh...it's all good. i'm just a tad cranky on this lovely summer morn, and i am about to go pay a woman to make me hurt a lot up and down a hill. frankly, i am a little scared.
well it's a good thing i had that 15 minute nap yesterday afternoon, cause i had another sleepless night.
body - i am getting a little tired of this, and i am THIS close to medicating the crap out of you. got that? good. cause from here on in, it's war, you selfish, non-responsive, heart-pounding bastard!
i spent the morning portion of the night dreaming of what dress to wear to a wedding. the high stress dreams, too, can go piss right off.
i'll tell you what i want (what i really really want - she'll tell you what she wants, what she really really wants), i want to fall asleep easily, sleep deeply and wake up refreshed. at this age, a sleepless night makes me look like an old woman and there aren't enough miracle balms out there to make it better.
18 June, 2009
that my nails grow so bloody fast. i cannot have a full time job, i'm too bloody busy filing my bloody nails all the bloody time.
that i still get zits - hello! i'm 37! i have wrinkles! WHEN WILL THIS END?!!?!?!?
that although i am now more active than i have ever been in my entire adult life, the weight is not budging, and i am NOT talking about the numbers, i am talking about my secret skinny pants. the scale may be confused, but the pants, the pants do not lie. still, i seem to be enjoying this new running, boot camping, circuit training moi, so let's stick with it and give the bikini fantasies a rest.
that mr. monkey is still stuck up in the siberian wastelands, while the summer it is a-passing.
the...irresponsible...and incorrect...use...of...ellipses...when a...FUCKING COMMA...would do.
hey! news flash! tuesday and today you know what i did on the couch? no, not that, you dirty minded little shit, i napped! yes! me! moi! i actually took two 15 minute catnaps of the kind regularly taken by normal people.
now, is there anything worse than raisins? well, ok, hitler. or stalin. or any number of violent psychopaths with weapons of mass destruction, but you get my point, no? no? ok. moving right along...
we went to a summer solstice concert tonight put on by the edmonton chamber music society and i got my pants rocked by arvo pärt's fratres. goosebumps, big goofy grin, tears in the eyes, the works. and i'll get to hear it all over again on saturday. pärt rocks. you rock, pärt! rock on, you crazy estonian bastard, rock on!
tomorrow i will be getting my ass kicked on a hill, to make a bit of a change from the usual friday morning ass kicking on the playground. if you hear no more from me, it is likely that i am hospitalized in a full body cast from attempting to simultaneously fuck with mother nature, uncle gravity and cousin ground. send flowers, but please don't come and visit; it'll be pathetic.
17 June, 2009
last thursday at the airport:
mr. monkey: you know, i came up with the perfect job for you! perfect!
moi (very excited*): what is it?!
mr. monkey: i forgot.
* because why make your own life decisions when you can have a perfectly useful boyfriend** or husband do it for you?
** the last 14 years of my life are brought to you courtesy of my crazy ex boyfriend terry who happened to have had lunch with a dental hygienist friend of his the day before we took a walk on the u of a campus, hence the brainwave, the application, the interview and the two years of hell followed by 14 years of some very lucrative bloodbaths.
15 June, 2009
if you have visited our home recently and have been greeted by a horrifying stench, you have our sincerest apologies. the culprit has been discovered and dealt with severely.
as i lounged on the couch this weekend, my nostrils were repeatedly assaulted in a manner too noxious to even attempt to relate. i sniffed my various bits, mister monkey's various bits, i sniffed under the couch, i sniffed in the entryway where an embarrassing number of shoes have been proliferating stealthily, i even began thinking that a family of squirrels had taken up residence in our attic and, having fallen on hard economic times, ended badly in a rodent murder-suicide.
alas, it was the lucky bamboo. it has been slowly dying, bit by lucky bit, and the aroma of its decidedly unlucky demise had permeated its water and thereafter the entire living room.
since the culprit has been apprehended and placed in solitary confinement, pending execution, the living room air quality has been improving steadily, barring mister monkey's occasional gastric emissions.
14 June, 2009
last night we went out for ethiopian with a lovely couple i met at an urban planning lecture. yes, adults can meet new people, talk to them, like them and make dinner plans. it's much tougher than the sandbox way, and fraught with far more disappointment (those individuals that are all "let's go for coffee!" and then, lo and behold, refuse to follow through and do NOT go for coffee, the mangy pusillanimous bastards!) but sometimes it happens and things do click and before you know it you've put away a bottle of wine and a bucket of sangria and you're sitting in your backyard, brushing inquisitive aphids off your ankles and discussing life and urban planning and literature. very nice.
(last time this happened, that i clicked with a new grown-up, i was cleaning her teeth and thank god her mouth was clean because for all the talking we did the cleaning fell by the wayside, and now she's moving away to vancouver and i shall miss her tremendously but, g, you know i'll be living in your spare room before you know it.)
so the point is (oh! oh! oh! what is the point?!!!) that after all that i went to bed and fell asleep RIGHT AWAY. yes, gentle readers, i fell asleep like normal people. then mister monkey soggily joined me, failing yet again to grasp the finer points of Drying Your Wet Body post shower, and i woke up, talked to him for a bit and FELL ALEEP AGAIN!!! shocking, no? if this is what life is like for you, all falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow - you lucky shit! cause mine is all about the agonizing stretches of time spent trying to talk myself off the ledge of awakefulness that somehow always morph into worrying about the state of the ionosphere, or albania's sociopolitical situation, or the disturbing lack of local produce on planet organic's swanky recycled ethically harvested wood shelves.
13 June, 2009
this is it. summer seems to be here. i survived my mother's visit, nay, enjoyed it even, and am now readying myself for the onslaught of Things I Need To Do Before I Can Do Other Things. confused? so am i.
i have had a dawning realisation recently that life is a process. there is no point of resting on one's laurels (uncomfortable, no? spiky little things, them!) unless it be a little point here and there. all the rest is getting from point birth to point death, and various points in between (new job, nervous breakdown, lunch with mabel, getting drunk, moving provinces, pedicure, scrubbing the tub...you get the picture), and really, it's all about the journey.
hmmm...would make a nice bumper sticker or coffee mug: "it's all about the journey."
what do you mean it's been done? bastards!
so yes, 37 years old, finally hauled her ass off the damn couch of existence and suddenly all these truths are raining down on me. nice.
11 June, 2009
i spend uncomfortable amounts of time nixing facebook's friend suggestions.
i keep hoping that eventually it'll run out of names to toss at me or will come up with someone who will be the crowning glory of my assorted nut collection of friends, random acquaintances and people with whom i worked for a week or so but barely communicated with.
i need a hobby.
05 June, 2009
i have a deep half moon shaped scar on my left hand from a crystal wineglass that decided to split in two in my hand.
two nights ago i was walking down the hallway, tripped on the laundry basket and careened into the doorframe where i did something extremely painful to my right ankle bone which is sore to this day.
three minutes ago i walked by the coffee table and stubbed not one but 4 toes.
i am now about to go to a boot camp work-out. if i die by running head first into a picnic table, i want to thank you for everything you have ever done for me. if you have never done anything for me, you're a jerk.