29 August, 2011

today my face has:

  • tired fishy eyes, still arguably my best feature (if you ignore my brain, which i kinda like but, for now, it remains encased in bone and skin and hair and blood and stuff so you can't see how swell it is, you just have to imagine).
  • zits. lots and lots of zits. i think that when i said/wrote/thought that i have lately been pining for the carefree days of childhood, some evil bourbon-swilling fairy unsteadily waved her magic wand in my direction and gave me the complexion of a 14 year old. she did not take away my wrinkles, the bitch.
  • a vague sense of something about to change, whether it's me or the world around me. it is not any sort of wooo-oooo presentiment or anything, more of a shift in the air, a feeling that perhaps one day in the near future i will make a decision and possibly start walking down a different path. i am not being cryptic: i have no idea what i mean. i could be wrong. perhaps it's just the vague discomfort of my premenstrual ovaries that i've taken to be something more. who the hell knows? not me, that's who.
  • not had a drink. no, really.

hey, listen!

i hate to leave you all nervous about making any kind of noise when you are being dentally manipulated. what i meant, when i said what i said about the thing that i said it about, is the kind of sustained and guttural grunting generally associated with naked sweaty ass action, not dental discomfort, so unless you make naked sweaty ass action grunting noises whilst under the care of your dental professional (and if you do - what is wrong with you?), don't worry about it.

27 August, 2011

hm...

the more i drink, the prettier i get.

19 August, 2011

still here and as happy as ever

1. if there's one thing i hate* it's patients who grunt. honey, i am fairly certain i am not giving you oral pleasure. yes, it's oral, but no, it's not pleasure (although i do like me a good teeth cleaning), so please quit it with the grunting and the little tiny moans. it is disturbing. it is gross. it makes me feel even more unclean than all the blood i carry home on my skin. so QUIT IT!

2. today was a work day, followed by laundry, followed by a walk to the fringe whereupon i was assaulted by such an overwhelming feeling of ennui that i called everyone i knew. ok, i only called two people, but it felt like i was sitting by my phone for hours, grounded by my evil parents, forbidden from doing anything fun ever again ever. and nobody was home. i left messages and went for a vietnamese sub, because where else can you get such a delicious conglomeration of flavours for only four dollars? sadly, they were out of pearls for bubble tea, but such was the sadness of my afternoon that i was not at all surprised and put it down on the already teetering pile of my white privileged middle class tragedies.

3. suddenly! out of the woodwork! people! phone calls! chit chats! films with catherine deneuve with seriously weird disjointed song and dance numbers! (gerard depardieu! not peeing but dancing!)

4. then an i-pod enhanced walk home, because again nobody answered their phone thus saving me from what would surely have been far too many beer garden beverages, then some home-made pickle sandwiches (it's a polish thing, and when the pickles are home made, as mine are, then it's a thing of much culinary beauty) and a new william gibson novel in which i wish i was every single character. are there people that cool? why can't i meet them (no offence, pals, you're all pretty damn special and all, but come on! william gibson's peeps are the bee's knees!)? and where does a gal go for an anime haircut? these are things i need to know.

5. now i'm waiting for mr. monkey who is either at his parents' place turning pieces of metal into magical bits of the recumbent tricycle he's building, or screwing his mistress. at this point, the wine having nicely massaged my brain cortex into mellow insensibility, it matters not one whit.

6. still, i have wasted the last 7 years of my life and i deserve to be taken out back and whacked repeatedly on the noggin with something that'll wake me the hell up.

6a. these last few months i have been having a mid-life crisis, the main theme of which is: oh, for my lost youth, which was filled with so many possibilities. of course, and this is immediately obvious to anyone with even several functioning brain cells, i still have a hell of a lot of time left to me (if you are clairvoyant and know otherwise, keep it to yourself) (or maybe not, maybe i need the kick in the pants which an impending death my provide) (unless it's really soon, in which case i'd rather spend my remaining days (hours?minutes?) in blissful ignorance) and i can still do stuff. so do stuff already. DO IT! (you know it's bad when you bore even yourself with this unending whine of "what shall i be when i grow up?).

7. and so we come to an end of another wine-fuelled post. if you've missed me, i know what you'll say: hey! woman! drink more! write more! but you see, i am drinking more but this usually results in early sleep, inappropriate fanfic fantasies involving handsome men in tight pants on horses, and a headache the next day. creativity? not so much.




*yes, yes, YES. i know there are many things i hate. this is one of them, and, when it happens, it overshadows all the other things i hate. but when i'm complaining about this, i haven't forgotten world hunger or hitler, ok? ok.

11 August, 2011

sweet oblivion

several nights ago at the monkey household

moi: aren't you going to put that laptop away? it's bloody late!
mr. monkey: i'm counting sheep... using excel™.

02 August, 2011

this whole thing about bums and rather smallish elephants

monday afternoon mister monkey dragged me to a mall on a small but significant quest. yup, the mister wanted to get hisself some swimming shorts unlike the gigantic voluminous ankle-length type seen on most young bucks out there. oh no, mister monkey wanted to get hisself some ass-huggery in the form of speedos. now, lest all y'all close your wee little piggy eyes and imagine this, that is not at all what he was after (i admit i also closed my wee little piggy eyes and imagined this*) i believe he was looking for something more like this (and aren't we all, girls? huh? huh? am i right? nudge, nudge, wink, wink (what?! every girl wants a cute gay friend!)).

exhausted and crushed by both the futility of our quest and the nearly palpable miasma of mall despair, we decided to get something to eat and headed for our second favourite ethiopian restaurant (our favourite having burned down recently). the sign was off but the door was open. we walked in: could they, would they feed us? no, they could not, would not, on account of ramadan said the guy behind the counter just as another guy came out of the kitchen with a plate piled high with sandwiches. um, happy ramadan...

we ended up eating at the local T&T supermarket where mister monkey was ousted out of his place in line by a minuscule old asian lady who apparently really wanted her steam bbq pork bun NOW. i do prefer impatient old people, though, (they get it: they get the shortness of the time allotted to them) to the ones who drive like all their tomorrows are spawning in the corner of the unwashed hamster cage of time.

and thus we spent the better part of heritage day long weekend monday: from the swaying steppes of ethiopia through the haunting highlands of china to the short shorts of europe, though not exactly in that order or geographical accuracy.

the rest of the day was taken up with elephant removal. you think i'm kidding, but i am not, however, in an effort to be mysterious and shit, i will leave it at that.



* not that mister monkey looks anything like that: it's just that we are neurologically hard-wired to see visions like that when we hear the word "speedo", it's inevitable.