Saturday, January 31, 2004
this is me, with a hangover
I have just slept for 12 hours, now I'm having a smoothie and eyeing up the couch.Hockey game, bar, another bar, some people who bought us a large amount of alcohol, home to a bottle of wine with aforementioned people. The theory is drink gin and water, do not dehydrate. Doesn't usually work. And now I'm very tired. And quite boring, obviously.
Friday, January 30, 2004
oops
*bring*"Hi, it's Tim, from Austrailia."
a two hour lunch ensued.
Jen: "Hi, T1, just to let you know I'm flying to Oz next week to become a sheep farmer."
T1: "Bit smitten, were you?"
Hell, yes.
And feeling a bit bereaved that he's gone....
...but late for the Chicago/ Flames game......
over and out.
e @ 1:35PM | 2004-01-31| So soon? I would have thought you'd need to put him up for a few nights surely? (on the sofa obviously)
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
tired, tortured and tragic
T2 mentioned today we should all dye our hair blonde. God knows why, I missed the beginning of the conversation, something about Dr. B's eyes being bloodshot and needing to be bleached. W's response was, "My wife would make me sleep on the couch."I made the 'overtired' mistake of blurting what popped into my head. Which was...
"Why the hell would she do that? All cats are black at night, pal."
Show stopper, that. They accused me of being crass.
I've found that the three simple words "I quit smoking" get me out of pretty much everything.
In going to sleep last night, I rolled over to move the dog's ass out of the way and her bum was wet. The vet had said that once her kidneys started to go, she would become erm...incontinent and not really realize she was erm...peeing. Of course, it's one a.m. and I freak.
I had to sit myself down and say to myself, "Self"
(and I knew it was me because I recognized the voice)
"It's really cold out there, that could be the reason. You knew this day would come. Maybe it only will happen this once. Stop. Stop crying. Stop thinking about it. Go to sleep and you'll know better tomorrow what to do."
And for once, I took my own advice.
Dr. B is bringing me his fancy camcorder tomorrow and I will be spending the weekend making a home movie. All the wonderful things we/she do that make my life with her such an amazingly satisfying thing. Peter Jackson I'm not, but if the time is coming, it's all I can think to do.
I'm trying to introduce someone I know to the concept of blogs. Not mine. Sort of a 'you need to understand why people do this' before I let her anywhere near the tangled messy bits of my particular blog. What's your best suggestion for a place for her to start?
Tell me.
yj @ 8:46PM | 2004-01-29| hope munchkin's okay. the videotaping is a great idea. speaking of you two, i glimpsed you taking her for a walk as i rode the bus home a few nights ago. or maybe it was last week. it's all a blur. see, i went to shout hello, hit my head on the bus window and knocked myself out. haven't been quite as not quite right as i was before ever since. uh. yeah. *twitch*
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
another dead soldier
...which would normally refer to a beer. But, nonsmoking Jen does not drink beer. Non-smoking Jen comes home and makes a smoothie instead.But the day is almost over and done. The pipes have been fixed. They're still frozen, mind you, but they're not leaking at this point.
While we're waiting for the Fire guy to decide if it's warm enough down there to enable him to reset the fire alarms, I'm staying as warm as possible. Cause, if he can't, then Jen and the president of the board are on fire watch. ie: touring the building all night long. Cause if there's a fire then we're not covered by insurance. Ye-haw.
And, considering I may have pissed off the powers that be with that last post, tonight will be the night the building goes up in smoke.
Trust me.
1 day 11 hours 35 minutes. Minus the three I lit and then put out after one drag. I was stressed. But I do admit I could have done without them. That's a good sign.
A thankyou to the person who emailed me with support and book title. You helped me during a bad day and that is worth very many thankyous.
Dear Big Ol' Whatever You Are in the Sky
We need to sit down and have a little chat.Oh, yes, we do.
Grab a coffee, why don't you? Oh wait, I'm sorry, we seem to have run out in the office. Along with tea, cream and hot chocolate.
Did you get a little bored this morning, look around for someone to mess with and see me? Do I have a big ultraviolet target on my back?
Did I do something terrible in another life? Oh, wait, am I getting my religions mixed up here? Could that be because I don't actually have a religion?
Are ya pissed cause my parents never got me baptized? Those of my friends 'in the know' tell me that not being baptized means I go straight to hell no matter what I do, so the question then would be - isn't that enough?
No, really, I think I have a right to know.
Admittedly, it's been a rough couple of years for me. I actually thought you were finished, I thought I'd done pretty good with the whole 'trials and tribulations' thing. I thought I was in the clear. At least once I got my raise in March and could actually pay all my bills off.
Why, why did you think it was a good idea, as I'm waking up this morning patting myself on the back for being smoke-free for 25 hours, to blow the fucking water pipes in my building? Right before everyone got up and hit the showers and pumped an enormous amount of water through those burst pipes. Could your timing be any more malevolent?
Oh and I quite appreciate the added bonus of a bus that's 20 minutes late in this weather.
Just cause obviously the cost of repair/insurance rates/special assessments wouldn't be enough to force me to sell the condo I've struggled for two years to keep up the payments on. Or is this your subtle way of telling me I shouldn't have quit my shitty high-paying job to search for one that made me happy?
Frankly, you could have mentioned it a little sooner. Like two years ago.
"Just doing your job," you say?
Frankly pal, you suck at it. I'd advise admitting you're the total shits at this loving and benevolent creator thing and looking around for another career. Cockroach maybe? Take our receptionist with you.
Or maybe, go fuck with someone else for a while and leave me alone.
You are starting to do some serious damage to my sense of humor.
luckycharm @ 4:32PM | 2004-01-27| ut oh. don't burn a candle though, i had a friend do that the night before thanksgiving and her house burned down thanksgiving day.
PB Curtis @ 8:45PM | 2004-01-27| I looked up "mysterious" in my Sceptic's Dictionary, and read: adj; 1. Surrounded by dry ice and music that goes woooOOOOooooOOOooo a lot. 2. Usually fucking annoying, or plain spiteful; 3. The way in which 'God' moves his bowels.
e @ 9:43PM | 2004-01-27| Oh goodness, poor you... "It never rains but it pours", they say. I suppose it's not a good day to mention water coming from the sky though. I hope it doesn't end up too expensive, and that you're managing to keep warm.
Monday, January 26, 2004
It's all in the numbers.
note: "feels like" and windchill current, not ambient temp.45 seconds. The amount of time it takes the dogs plastic/steel fake knee to freeze in -35C (-31F) degree weather at 8 am.
14 hours, 7 minutes. The amount of time I haven't had a cigarette.
1. The number of times I *haven't* lied in my life about how long it's been since I've had a cigarette. I'm an addict for god's sake. I've been smoking for 23 years. But I can't lie to myself, now can I? So, that once is today.
0. The number of people I tried to kill today.
15. The number of people who expressed shock at the previous number.
6 minutes. The amount of time it took me to power walk to the grocery store after work in -42C (-44F) weather.
8 minutes. The amount of time it took me to then scurry home carrying 20 lbs of flash frozen groceries.
2 minutes. In the house, before I realized all my eye makeup had run and frozen to my face, making me look like Alice Cooper.
30 seconds. The amount of time I wondered if I'd just grocery shopped looking like that, before saying, "Aw fuckkit, it's not like I could feel my face or anything," and going to make dinner.
-52C (-62F). The current temperature. That's right, the current temperature. It's times like this, I wish I had a cat.
Okay. No, I don't wish I had a cat. I wish I had trained my dog to pee in a litterbox. A cup. I'd even settle for in my hand. Anything that wouldn't require going *shudder* out there.
-55C (-67F) The temperature tomorrow. At what point do those people who don't drive get a break and a 'it's too goddamned cold to risk your life' day?
HUH?
I guess people who drive don't realize that it's cold out. Cause they push their little car starter buttons from inside the building and wear ski pants to run the 30 feet outside to their cars and feel sorry for themselves. Cause they have no concept of how actually dangerous it is to walk 20 blocks in this weather. Or even to go outside and stand for 5 - 20 minutes waiting for a bus that's late. I'd honestly like to see them try.
*deep breath*
I think I need to go lay down now.
I was enjoying myself for a bit there, but now I think I'm having a withdrawal fit. Or I'm just mad. Pissed. Worked myself into a right (insert appropriate britishy word here...bugger?). Chyort poberi! Merde! Go lagaí galar tógálach do chroí! Embrasse mon tcheue!
[edited so I could swear in a bunch of other languages too, which was actually kind of fun and made me hap-py again - found here].
And now to bed. 15 hours, 40 minutes and counting.
and I believe that you worked yourself into a Paddy. But I hope that you are pissed off rather than pissed, cos they do say that alkyhol doesn't help much with the cold. ;)
There's a co-worker across the hall who is fairly calm and talks pretty quietly - but only for the first two words of every sentence. By the end of it she's screeching. The volume and tone ratchets up in dizzying degrees. Every time. I think she may have grown up in a large family where no one ever listened to her.
I want to kill her.
Statistics
Due to the fact that I'd eaten all my healthy stop smoking snackies by 9:30 am and am now eyeing the carpeting, I decided to pull up the ol' counter, which I don't think I can show on the site, but I'll work on that later.In the meantime, here's some interesting stuff, related to me specifically.
Cause I know you want to know even though you probably don't think you want to, deeeeep down inside your inner cheerleader is screaming for information.... (and that's why pb comes here, because statements like that are so intelligent. You can make me blush, but you can't fool me, big fella.)
I have forced myself not to smoke for 4 Hours 25 Minutes 31 Seconds.
Cigarettes I have not smoked: 2.
Money saved: C$1.42.
Apparantly, that means I will be around 27 Mins 39 Secs longer to annoy and piss off the rest of the world.
Start date: 09/01/1981 00:00:00
Quit date: 01/26/2004 08:00:00
You smoked 122,735 cigarettes.
Your out of pocket cost was C$62,901.69.
The same money in the bank at 5 percent interest would have given you C$115,573.59.
So there you have it. I'd like a cigarette now please.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
interesting news break
I find it a little irresponsible that, while my cell phone manual includes 12 pages of health information on the "non-danger" of cell phones, we now apparantly have bone phones. Sign me up. I've always wanted to look like even more of an idiot by being seen holding a cell phone to the back of my head whilst on the train or bus.Microsoft vs Mike Rowe Soft. Since he's in my hometown, there's a good chance he's one of the kids of a high school friend. Weird, that.
Good news for the beer drinkers who're worried about all the time they waste...aging.
And yet another reason that Canadians are cool, rather than just cold. I gotta sing and I dance, when I glance in my pants. Go Calgary.
As above, my favorite, the original American article entitled It's Not Just the Weather that's Cooler in Canada.
rereading
Over the last two days I've been rereading "Black House", the second book by Stephen King and Peter Straub, in which the story continues that was started in "The Talisman". It really does have one of my personal favorite first paragraphs.restless
The dog is restless and swinging between insisting I feed her more and laying in the foyer-of-the-wasted-space moaning. I don't know quite how to handle it.I'm drinking lemon water. I'm thirsty. And a little out of sorts myself.
Esch tells me that my comments don't work. They seem okay on my end, is anyone else having problems? I guess if you are...you'd have to email me. See the contact page.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
fear of exercise
I'm just practicing a little avoidance before I plug in that nasty videotape. I'm on the last pack of cigarettes so maybe I'll go find a nifty little counter for the site so everyone can see just how much longer I'll be around to annoy everyone.I don't know about being a born adventurer, e, for me, the time had just come to leave. I've always had very mixed feelings about 'home'. I don't miss the people so much as I miss the places, everything there is packed full of memories in a way that Calgary isn't. It's a bit weird. My favorite thing to do on the odd occasion that I do go back, is to take someone with me so I can show them all the great 'secret' places that tourists don't know about. I like watching someone else discover the things that I have loved.
I think I'm over the initial whiny shock of talking to the guys again. I have missed them and I regret that I didn't keep in touch with them after I left. I wasted time. Time that I may not have had to waste.
The problem back then was that I never had a plan and I'd never learned to trust myself. I didn't believe I was worth anything good. Scott was a privileged child whose family's resources were such that he could have done anything he wanted, he was a calm steady center who had a well-considered reason for everything he did. From what the boys have told me, he went after what he wanted and got it. I was the exact opposite. Even if I had gotten it together back then, it never would have worked. I know that. And maybe it's not fair to either of us for me to wander back into their lives but it is something I need to do for myself and he'll have the choice to come along or not. A large part of me wants him to know that I finally figured out how to love myself, that I did find my center and that he was justified (that's a bad word for what I'm trying to say) in being the first and best person to love me. That the problem wasn't with him, it was with me and it wasn't that I didn't love him but that no one could have loved me enough to make me believe. I don't know if that makes much sense to anyone but me, but there you have it. I don't want him back, but I do want them all to be a part of my life again.
So, yeah, I'm done with being all dramatic and sentimental about it. And, in the last couple years, I can finally say. "I have a plan." That feels pretty good.
Of course, the plan for today is to do the pilates, maybe go for a sauna, do some laundrey and stay inside and watch the snow fall. Next weekend will be the big Superbowl party. The 20th one in a row that Dave has had (which blows me away) and I'm looking forward to seeing all the people I only usually see at his party.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
so...
Most notable quotes from 'the boys' the last 24 hours as I've re-contacted my childhood....I still see those cool people from high school. All the time. They're still working the till at the local 7-11."
(in a graduating class of 360)
"Yeah, the 10 year reunion...20 people showed. Cause, you know, that was the same night that the local Speedway had SEMI racing for the first time ever. There were 120 of our grads there."
This is my roots.
And to hear them talk about Scott. Cause they do, even if I don't. I'm not sure if it's because they don't like what he married, if they miss me or if they feel somehow that I'm supposed to pay for not being able to love him enough back then. I don't know. They're all so damn proud of him. As am I. He's somehow become the hero of their lives.
Thank god they don't know what I've been doing all these years.
I feel a bit like that Suicide Diary girl today. Bits of information but nothing substantive. I'm not completely sure I can write about Scott. I don't feel I can do him justice. I'm not sure I can explain what happened, what I felt, what I did and, all these years later, what I still feel. And maybe that's the problem. If you can't do justice, why do anything at all?
So, being one of the oh.....three...people that left the island, it's a bit fitting that this song has been on my computer all day.
Train
So your tired of wakin up on empty
You left for something that ain't real
So you think a couple of familiar faces
is gonna turn it all around
You wanna be where they still pump your gas for you
where they remember your name
They think that you are some beauty queen
or somethin better
where they remember your name
Ain't it good to think about the weather
Doesn't seem to be time for that no more
It's hard to hear when you're busy sayin what you want said
Well what you want said, it ain't clear
You wanna be where they still open doors for you
It's not hard for them to remember you at all
They light your cigarette and tell their friends
you used to love them
Where they remember your name
More forgiveness
More time away from feelin like you do today
More forgiveness
More time away from feelin this way
It's easy when you laugh, reminds you of you
It's easy when it's easy, it still ain't easy at all
So you're tired of wakin up on empty
You left for something that ain't right, ain't right
You wanna be where they still pump your gas for you,
where they remember your name
They think that you are some beauty queen
or somethin better
where they remember your name
More forgiveness
More time away from feelin like you do today
More forgiveness
More time away from feelin this way
luckycharm @ 4:31PM | 2004-01-23| when the time is right , you will write. maybe the right time will never come. maybe the words you need for that don't exist. that's okay too.
Jen @ 10:36PM | 2004-01-23| thanks lc, I don't think the words exist (I like that idea) but, now, I need to try. Even if it's a horrible attempt. You'll have to tell me if I've succeeded in explaining it/myself. That would help. If I can make someone else 'see' it, then that would be all I'd need.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
bits and pieces
Lelu saved herself by bringing me cigarettes from Cuba. Such a nice girl. I've forgiven her for going somewhere warm. As I sit, surrounded by the bluey signature americany smelling smoke, I again ponder the usefulness of causing myself pain to quit. But...today is not a day to go into that, yet again...Shari has just called, with tickets to some comedy club, tomorrow evening. Hey, Wednesday's a typically dead TV night, so I am off to yet another new experience in the big bad city. Not that I haven't been to comedy nights back home, in fact it was one of our regular stops, but have yet to attend one since I've lived here.
I guess it's just my year to get back out there.
I put down the phone and realize there is dog hair everywhere which Shari and I both, to be honest, are quite used to. Regardless, I felt the need to vaccuum (why does that look wrong now matter how I spell it?). Coming out of the laundrey room from putting the nasty little machine back in it's berth, I spot Herself, apparantly upset that I'm 'screwing with her stuff'...I don't know if you can feel the suspicion coming off her but I sure could.
and, e...I think I've said the exact same thing at least once to everyone I've ever known, right on the spot there! Mostly during one of those times they've told me to "stop talking to strangers". They don't know what they're missing, do they? (putting it here cause I don't trust outside servers....)
I'd go further and say that many people find difference distasteful and would rather that everyone fitted their neat categories of pre-defined person types. I think that everyone has a story to tell, and an interesting one at that, and this it is our duty as human beings trying to connect with others, to get even those who have trouble communicating to tell you theirs in any way they are able.
This is of course why I'm frequently waylaid by total strangers wanting to tell me their stories. A casual remark, a small feeling of connection with a fellow human is all the encouragement many people need. And they want to tell you who they are; it's up to each of us to listen and prompt in a non-directive way. Many people feel they don't have time to find out about other people though I suppose. Having said all this, I am hardly what I would call sociable. It's all one big paradox.
A final note to PB (he of the spotty comments designed to frustrate my attempts at wit)- "One does not raise his own reputation by lowering others." "A wise man opens his eyes and shuts his mouth." et al. ad nauseum. and other literary terms I can't think of at the moment. There's a reason for all those little sayings, my boy, take it from someone who lived through the exact same situation as your children. I don't think I need to tell you who'll have their respect, in the end. Chin up, little camper, leading by example sometimes does prevail.
And with that, I bid you adieu.
PB Curtis @ 2:53PM | 2004-01-23| Thanks for the kind words. I am calmer, and more enthusiastic about my dismay and anger than I was. Poor old dysfunctional klinkfamily comments. Everyone is deserting them.
Monday, January 19, 2004
I'm so tired, I just lost that last post.
So, here I go again. Isn't that a Whitesnake song?I have two quotes that say what I was thinking better than I could in my exhausted boobie state. The origins of one I know and one, I don't (as usual).
Sometimes I wonder if everything is already known and each of us simply selects the facts that work for us. Is that why we all go through life so disconnected? Not only are our minds these singular islands, each separate from each other, but we're not necessarily operating in the same reality. There's a consensual no-man's-land that we pretty well agree on, but beyond those basic reference points that we're given as children, we're on our own.
We run into trouble communicating, not because we lack a common language, but because the facts I've selected don't usually fit with the ones you have. Lacking common ground, it's no wonder we find it so hard to communicate.
He meant that, when I spoke my name, he believed me, he understood who I was. There are no words to say how very much this pleased me. I think that almost every word we speak to anyone is a way of trying to explain to them who we are, and almost always we fail, and that is why I would rather not try. It is a great wonder to be able to speak a single word, your name, and be believed. There is only one of you in all the world, there has never been another, there never will be another, and once you know this, it is a hurtful thing to be taken as someone else or like someone else. You begin to try very hard to announce yourself to everyone, knowing in your heart that it is as foolish as proving the existence of the sun, or water, or pain, and as useless as trying to disprove any of them.
Theodore Sturgeon
I could tell you something I consider to be inconsequential to who or what I am and your spontaneous decision to make it important will color how you see me and treat me, forever.
I still believe it's worth trying.
And I believe that we have a duty as intelligent human beings, to each other and to ourselves, to recognize this flaw, give each other the benefit of open-mindedness and above all remember that we are each of us, the sum of our parts. Good and bad. To go a step further even - that my definitions of good and bad may not be the same as yours, which doesn't make them wrong, only a difference that I should explore and do my best to understand.
I do know that this place has helped to allow me to care less when I've failed and to pay more attention to what others say, in the hopes that I can help them succeed.
luckycharm @ 9:01PM | 2004-01-20| a beautiful, meaningful post.
ricochets and a guest blogger
In the last couple days, two things I have read have been banging around in my head.It's distracting. There's something in there trying to get out. And coupled with the measly 4 hours of sleep I got, I can barely concentrate on staying in an upright position at my desk. I want to be awake and at home, scribbling things down.
Thing #1 - it's time to stop living as though I'm dying. JadedJu. That has to be the single most 'truest' thing I have read over the last year. I mean, really, how many of us are doing that, when you think about it?
Thing #2 - If we are not what we communicate ourself as being to others, then what are we? No More Ozone. (no comments is making me nuts, btw, just so you know - it's that old cliche about not needing to do something until someone says you can't)
Anyways, I have something somehow to say, which I can't right now. More about thing #2 because thing #1 is so big it scares me. In fact, I've just realized I've been sitting here making fish in a tank noises - a combination of time spent on JJ site and a feeling vaguely like being trapped. "bloop" "bloop"
Moving right along to the guest blogger. Yet another friend 'out there' somewhere, blithely unaware that they've become a blogger rather than an email updater.
For a price...you can break any law in Thailand. Yes, the price is even posted on the sign ("No Smoking 4000 Baht". "No Marijuana 10,000 Baht". "No Jaywalking 2,000 Baht".)
We opened a cupboard door in the hotel room we're staying in, and the back of the cupboard is a window...into the adjacent room. There's nothing blocking our view from watching the people next door...freaky.
A subway tunnel was recently built throughout Bangkok, but it's not in operation. Why, you ask? Becasue someone forgot to order the trains....no joke. We've bartered for absolutely EVERYTHING
Our hotel room was 800 Baht, and so we said the majic word "Discount??" Without much trouble we got her down to 600 Baht. An hour later we saw the posted price as 350 Baht. Ah...you win some, you lose some I guess.
When you approach the bathroom the people working there take a look at you and assess how badly you have to pee. Girls hunched over in a convoluted position while jumping up and down pay 10 Bahts. Those who casually walk up pay 5 Baht.
Sunday, January 18, 2004
entranced again
I can honestly say I have never spent six hours so absolutely involved, without a moment's boredom or desire to move from my spot, in my entire life. Which, as I look back, is a bit pathetic, really. 'Angels in America' is over and I'm saddened.But cheered by a line such as this...
Of course he can't. He's one of those spectres stores employ for the sole purpose of haunting customers by drearily moaning "Can I help you?" while they rattle their acne.
...which is in here...before kitting up to take the dog out and then off to bed.
And reminds me of shopping on Boxing Day -
me: "Shari, help me find some pants."
Shari: "I don't know what you like, Jen. Surely there must be a salesperson who can help."
pause here for effect and look pointedly at three salespeople before again declaring, quite loudly. "I say, surely there must be a salesperson who can help."
A clone of aforementioned acne ridden juvenile slumps over to stare at something over my left shoulder.
me: "I need something low-rise, NOT stretchy, NOT flared and not freakishly 'processed'."
Employee stares at me blankly, ushers me to a small room, locks me in, goes back out to scrabble through the piles and proceeds to hand me seemingly endless variations of processed, stretchy flared jeans.
Honestly, I think Scotlands exporting them. It's a conspiracy. Some grand plan to drive us all insane. *twitch*
NO, get away! Back, I say! *twitch*
Can you imagine what I'd be like at this point without a cigarette?
new approach
Okay. I folded. Crumpled in a spectacular way. And right now sit with a fag hanging from the corner of my mouth and typing happily.In that scary way that the human mind can rationalize...well, anything...I've just decided on a new approach based on the following....
16 smoke free hours was a good start.
In the 23 years I've been a smoker, I never even entertained the thought of quitting until the last 2 years. And I've even made a couple of serious attempts.
Okay, maybe that has more to do with the big C, surgery and radiation than any other decision making process, but I don't think so. At least, I don't think I think so.
In the last couple years I've managed to get down from six packs a week to two or three.
I've never been particularly good at causing myself physical pain. Emotional pain, now that I've got down to a science.
And, really, it's not my fault that the bank didn't take out my mortgage payment on Thursday like it should have, thereby leaving money in my account. They should know better.
Besides, everyone knows that forced abstinence will never be as effective as truly wanting to quit.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm still going to quit. I'm just taking more of a baby step approach than a cold turkey approach. Besides, all I've got is 25...er...24 cigarettes to last untill payday. And that's roughly 5 a day. I'll just pretend I'm in a prison camp and must ration.
Of course, I could just be completely full of shit.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Hey, I'm going to the symphony
Have I mentioned that lately? :)Really, it's only because I've never been before. And neither has my friend Wade.
He's an interesting guy. Scary looking, a little, one of the most gentle and nice people I know. Obsessed with Sandra Bullock. One year for his birthday I got the video store guy to get me the life size poster of "Miss Congeniality" - I think he has a room dedicated as a shrine in his house, but that could just be a rumor. We've always all likened him to Bret 'The Hitman' Hart, but I think that's mostly because he has the same hair, and not really because of any physical resemblance. Australian family. His first words this afternoon when he called were "how ya goin'?". Which frankly, never fails to throw me. How? With my legs, I don't drive. You know.
He'd been to the hockey game last night, for which it was 'Bret Hart' night and is inordinately pleased that he managed to bring home three Hart bobbleheads.
Bret Hart was/is a WWF wrestler, whose brother, Owen was killed during a wrestling stunt in 1999. The whole family, Calgarians, are involved in some way or another with the sport. Colleen and I were in the bar, which was filled with wrestlers, a few days before the funeral and being the fan she is (I outgrew it when I was, oh, 16 or so) I had to physically restrain her from accosting them. Anyways, I'm rambling, but our junior team here are called 'The Hitmen' and Bret is heavily involved, or owns them, or something.
The plan for tonight, he's stopping by just before 7 pm and we're heading over to Crush - an oft-renovated and just as frequently re-named bar at the other end of my block which I've yet to visit - for a pint, before heading to Jack Singer. He's yet to see the condo (which meant I had to clean) nor, I think, has he ever met the munchkin, although we've had many conversations about her over the years.
We'll be sitting beside T2, my VP, who went to elementary school with Bret so they should be able to have a conversation or two about that.
Then, there's a pause, and Wade says, "So, what're you wearing?"
Once we both stop laughing, I have to tell him he doesn't need to wear a suit, but that jeans will be fine. The Philharmonic is trying to get in a younger crowd. It's funny that I think of us as the 'younger crowd' considering I'm 34 and Wade is 44.
Oh, that made me think of something else. My younger half-sister goes to a high school back home called Claremont and usually I change into the logo'd trackpants she sent me at the end of the day for the power-walk home. Last week, as I wander about the halls at the end of the day, T2 shouts, "Hey, you're wearing my high school on your ass!" He's coming up on his 20th reunion and although I'd known his parents were on the island I'd never realized he'd spent part of his childhood there. I asked him if he'd ever gone to any of the parties on the reserve, to which he responded, "Of course." And he'd played rugby and knew Colleen's older brothers. How's that for weirdness? At some point, either at one of the parties or a Velox rugby 'do' we probably came across each other. Twenty years ago. Kind of makes me start thinking about the hand of fate and alternate paths in life. Or not.
Seriously, though, it's a rambly post but it's all connected. And, that's what makes me think.
at a loss for a title
Pornyboy, if you come by, your comments aren't working. I, myself, have had numerous witty things to say lately but have been unable to say them, and now I'm all out of witticisms. So, you'll just have to take my word for it.Pob, we should be able to do things 'just for fun'. I find it so sad that somehow it just doesn't work out that way. Here's hoping that all of us find our 'fun place' whether we share it or not.
Our chinook, which has brought the temp up from minus 800 million for the last 8 days or so, seems to have wandered off again. Today it is a little chillier, a grey rainy-day feeling sort of day, with little bits of snow falling here and there as if the sky is testing itself before working up a couple of good flurries. More about chinooks here.
Normally they last only two or three days but with this one being around for so long, apart from the dog and I both feeling it in our assorted bones and heads, it's had another unwelcome effect.
Her Highness' body thinks spring is here and is spontaneously shedding large amounts of fur.
I woke up this morning with a pain in my eye and after staggering towards the shower-like thing in the bathroom, paused to check it out in the mirror.
For, although my eyes have been closed for the last 11 hours, there are now two dog hairs curled about underneath my eyelid.
Poking my finger into my own eye is ill-advised first thing upon waking but as I'm leaning into the mirror, I notice out of the corner of my good eye, something on my head.
Unfortunately, my hair is still short enough to trap things and I look vaguely like I've had a bad dye job, with bits of black and grey interspersed throughout the blonde.
To make matters worse, there are also a few clumps stuck to the hair on my arms and legs.
I swear, she creeps about the bed in the early morn, wheezing maniacally, and doing her little part to make me as furry as her.
e @ 5:29PM | 2004-01-17| She's not losing her fur because of any of the medications is she? It just seems strange that she should suddenly start shedding like that. She must not have grown it all that long ago...
Jen @ 5:46PM | 2004-01-17| hmmm, I never thought of that. She's finished her antibiotics and I don't think that was one of the side effects. We did have a 40 degree change in temp though. That's gotta be enough to trick the 'ol reptile brain into thinking the winter's over.
Labyrinthman @ 6:35AM | 2004-01-24| Chinooks... without them, I would go mad! MAD I TELL YOU! Of course there are some who would say I'm mad already.
Friday, January 16, 2004
small refections
I'm tickled pink that Pob came by...erm...repeatedly. :) I miss him. It feels like forever since he's been gone - and that's not meant as condemnation of any sort, only a little bit of sadness cause I don't have his wonderful stories to look forward to lately....More than I miss Troubled Diva. I'm not positive why that is but I think that all the reasons TD gave when he left pretty much hit the nail on the head. People come to expect certain things and forcing yourself to give them what they expect comes through just like that. Forced. Not that it still wasn't entertaining and wonderful to read but you (I) could feel that. He's intelligent enough to give himself some space and I think we all understand and applaud that. And maybe, others should give Pob that same benefit of the doubt. Just a thought.
I know that there are things I don't say here. Mostly because people I know read it. And sometimes, using the blog to get things off my chest leads to a domino effect. "Was she talking about me? What a bitch." "If that's what she thinks, she should just have the balls to tell me herself." Since this is, in effect, a diary (as so pointedly stated by my older sister a few months back) then I should be able to say whatever I want to without any thought to the consequences. After all, if you choose to read my diary, well then you choose to read my diary. It is, in effect, the things I'm thinking in my head, that parallel conversation with myself that isn't shared at the time, or ever, because they are my personal thoughts. Things I need to say to myself but that don't really need to be said to anyone else. And let's not even get into the whole myriad "you just shared something that wasn't your fucking business to share in the comments" things. Cause that's what I'm doing here, talking to myself. But, even then, I don't say some of those things to myself, in public, that I'm saying to myself in my head, for the simple fact that there are things that those who know me have no right to know. And never will.
Coupled with the voyeurism of reading something written by someone you know and the tendency to apply all that is said to yourself... that sometimes leads to issues. Who are we kidding? Really?
I have a quote from someone's website that I found that I find somehow fitting, and if I found it fitting three months ago and continue to do so now...well.... before I put it in though, I have to say, I didn't note where it came from at the time so I have to apologize for that in advance....
Everything I write, even the weird 'writey' bits are based first and foremost in the truth, as are some of the blogs that I love the most. I would hate to miss what is going on in NoMoreOzone's head, what horrifying(ly funny) experience FunnyCauseIt'sShit is having today, Sassy's life-paralleling thoughts, how bedbugsandballyhoo's writing is going (and I love the way she uses her words, even in the most mundane descriptions), PurplePen's latest thoughtful essay, and I could go on... I love each blog that I read for wildly disparate reasons. First and foremost, though, I love these blogs and those others that are in my blogroll because each of those people express something that I, myself, wish I could. We all see in each other a part of ourselves that we can't or won't recognize in our own lives/words/experiences. But there's a reason that they're in the blogroll. And for me, that's it. And I hope that those who read mine find some reason to keep coming back, even after an off day, or even a boring week.
No one listens to me....and yet, I talk.
chrissykins @ 1:06AM | 2004-01-17| I read every day. :)
luckycharm @ 1:44AM | 2004-01-17| yes. and i choose to hear you.
luckycharm @ 2:07AM | 2004-01-17| my words don't come out right, what i'm trying to say is i read your words everyday too.
e @ 8:56AM | 2004-01-17| I miss Pob too *sob*
Pob @ 9:28AM | 2004-01-17| Ahh Shucks. Actually, I think that's the first time I've ever said 'shucks' - i've no idea what it means in fact. Jen, I think you've eloquently expressed what I couldn't put into words. I blame only myself for my own demise, because I didn't have a clear vision of what i wanted to do, what i wanted to write about, before I started. I really should have thought about setting some sort of 'terms of reference' at the beginning, and stuck to it. Instead I just thought 'this looks like fun' and plunged in head first. hmm...that probably sounds a bit pompous or overly serious
Pob @ 9:30AM | 2004-01-17| Ooh, and it's been a very long time since I've tickled anyone, pink or otherwise.
Blue Witch @ 4:06AM | 2004-01-18| Excellently put. Unlike this comment :)
home again
It's strep throat. I feel like I'm 15 again. What's next? mono?I had to send a warning email to everyone I work with, although I only spent three hours there yesterday, I was highly contagious. Out of the 30 people I work with, 10 have small children and strep throat has been known to completely decimate a school in three days.
Just call me Typhoid Mary.
The only thing that makes me feel better is that I've given the dog a bath and I've got those yummy orange British cough candies that whatsisname bought me last year.
e @ 6:54PM | 2004-01-16| *cough* *wheeze* *blaze* And I only read your blog, Your Contagiousness. PS: I'm not really ill; I only said that for effect. And strep throat is horrid isn't it? Poor you. It's got to be worth at least a week in bed.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
mad cow two
It's a short one. No, really.Just reading this weeks Macleans (weekly Canadian news magazine) from my sick-chair and found an interesting tidbit about scapegoats and mad cows. For anyone not paying attention there have been two cows found with BSE from Canada since May of 2003. The latest one was the milk cow with a name that was shipped to the US, slaughtered, packaged and sent to stores. But not tested by those who noticed it looked a bit 'off' at the US slaughterhouse until after it had been processed and shipped.
The very first one, last May (and this was something I didn't know before which only adds fuel to my particular fire)...as reported in Macleans....
Interesting, no?
You see, poor Marwyn obviously never got the "Canadian grand master nefarious plan to kill the Americans one by one by relying on their inability to take responsibility for their own mistakes" memo and he almost inadvertently and innocently killed his entire (Canadian) family.
Jeez, Marwyn, you messed up the whole 'operation'. Shame on you.
bad sickie
I'm sick.I'm working from home because I have too much work to do. But I'm sick.
No fever. But I sound and feel as though my throats been torn out by a large and angry cat.
I'm not a good sick person. I can't lay around all day as that throws my back into spasms. I can't bring myself to watch daytime tv. I don't have any books to read. Hence, I'm typing very slowly to drag out the time.
I should have know something was wrong when I was in bed and sleeping by 10 pm.
I've resorted to my mother's suprisingly effective "sport sock around the neck slathered in Vicks" remedy, but that's not really attractive nor proper office attire.
I actually had a boss once that said they wouldn't mind the sock. She was Polish and also recommended slicing raw potatoes to put IN the sock.
I can just picture THAT.
It hurts to swallow.
ouch.
ouch.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
communication issues
I'd been tasked t'other day to research the city of Houston. Oil and gas associations, the new mayor, his staff, schedules, companies that are headquartered there, stuff like that. There is quite a nice website for the new mayor but as he was only sworn in a week or so ago, quite a lot of it is under construction. I needed a bio. After a frustrating hour of finding nothing with any search combination I attempted, I decided to just call them.After explaining to the nice lady what I was looking for, she put me through to the "Communication Officer". Whose phone rang and rang and which I then let ring some more in case they had an awfully long set time on the voice mail. Nope.
Went to a meeting. Came back. Tried again. Waited. Tried again. Waited some more. Again. Did some other stuff. Yet again.
Nothing.
Finally, I just asked the nice lady at the front if the communications officer had voice mail.
"Which one?" She asked.
"There's more than one?"
"Well, there's five. Which one have you been calling?"
"Whichever one you've been putting me through to."
"They don't have voice mail."
So, the five Communications Officers for the city of Houston don't have voice mail.
Made me wonder what exactly they are trying to communicate.
Monday, January 12, 2004
Angels
If you're not catching HBO's remake of this Broadway play for the small screen, you're missing out.In Canada it's currently playing on Movie Central. Of course, on Movie Central you've missed the first three hours already. But, honestly, it's a beautiful thing. Three hours, no commercials, both my legs fell asleep, the bathroom flooded and the dog robbed a bank and I didn't even notice. Entrancing.
The scene at the end of the first play, when the angel comes crashing through the ceiling into Prior's sickroom, is one of the most dazzling dramatic spectacles ever staged. Every situation is seen from at least two different, and often conflicting perspectives. Characters in the play struggle to find meaning in a world apparently abandoned by God. Some deny, reject, and fail, but the strong ones break free or find their meaning in compassion and commitment to others.
Sunday, January 11, 2004
just so ya know
The quote section usually reflects something I'm feeling at the time I post it there. And, as a general indication of whatever end of the mood swing I'm currently on - it's not bad. But I've gotten a bit tired of hunting them down.So, for the next little while, they will all be quotes from a lovely little book I've got entitled Today I Will Nourish My Inner Martyr - Affirmations for Cynics. Here's hoping you'll enjoy them as much as I do.
new twist on the wireless service
So, it occured to me this morning that my text message would require a city routing code as well as the international dialing code. Makes sense, right? I thought I would call my service provider (who shall remain as nameless as they are faceless) but the customer service people don't work on weekends.Then I tried to call an operator. I can't.
Dialling zero takes me back to those people who don't work on the weekends.
I can't dial directory assistance because they will only provide North American numbers and I can't get one of them to transfer me cause it's basically an automated system.
The text message came with 11 digits. As far as I know, Australia has 10. Plus, I don't know if he's from Perth or Sydney or somewhere else.
I'm in an endless loop I can't get out of.
And he probably thinks I'm horribly rude.
For some reason, my pop-up blocker thinks everything is an ad. Like opening my explorer. Can a program be an idiot?
One day, on my way to work I stopped at the drug mart to pick up some cigarettes. The people in front of me were a couple of the residence-less and the little person behind the counter (all of 3 foot 4) was quite taking them to task as she'd told them before she would no longer sell them ...Listerine. There's a liquor store right across the street but it doesn't open till 11 am or so. I guess the alcohol content is high but seriously, that shit can't be good for you to ingest.
I've never heard of those cough drops though.
Saturday, January 10, 2004
international callers
...like Purple Pen, my maths suck. Obviously. The whole cow thing just pisses me off. Whatever you do though, don't get me started on porridge. ;)I received my first ever text message this morning. It said "knock knock" and came from somewhere with a long phone number. I tried to send back but it wouldn't go.
The phone rang during my nap. International number. "Weird", I think, and roll over to go back to sleep. The dog has been talking to herself a lot lately and keeps waking me up, I need my bed time. Eventually I get around to picking up the voice mail.
"Hi Jen, nice message there. Right, my name is TL and hopefully Maree's gotten in touch with you. I'm in your area. I've sent a text message so just message me back or I'll try again later."
So, Maree, whom I haven't talked to in a couple years and who's really bad at emailing (if you're reading this - I'm kicking your ass next time I see you) has apparantly sent me an Australian. Is this a plot to get me to visit? Is he cute? Can I keep him?
I think I've finally worked out the texting on the phone, after 10 abortive tries, and have messaged back - "Am alive, call back" - the phone tells me this one went so putting "011" in front of the number must have done the trick.
I'm always up for entertaining people with lovely accents.
Since I've promised numerous people I will no longer bring the homeless home with me for showers, to do laundrey or get a good nights sleep - I've been resorting to buying the "Street Talk" as an alternate niceness outlet.
"Street Talk" is a newspaper produced and written by the homeless which they pay 60 cents for and then sell to us for whatever we'd like to give. There's quite a nice older fella usually over at the drug mart next door whom I usually just give my change to. After all, I see him every other day and I don't need the same paper over and over again. We used to have a different guy (a schizophrenic) but there was an article a while back that said he'd gotten his own apartment with the money he'd earned so I'm assuming he's no longer in the neighborhood.
I suppose it is fair to say that I'm encouraging the ones that work as opposed to the ones that pee on the building, sleep in the exterior stairwells and leave their listerine bottles in the walkways. Ah, the loveliness of living downtown.
e @ 7:57AM | 2004-01-11| God, I'm so sheltered! You can drink Listerine? No wonder my father used to be addicted to it, the old soak. Now what is there in Meggezone throat tablets which might fuel an addictive personality?
e @ 8:02AM | 2004-01-11| PS: "you never know what's around the corner"
Friday, January 09, 2004
soapbox
So, farmed salmon is toxic huh?TopStory1.
As I'm tucking greedily into my sirloin outside round marinated-in-wine broiled steak for dinner, I think how fabulous it is that I only paid $2 at the overpriced store beside my house.
Pausing periodically to feed some to the dog drooling on my leg, I remark, "More mad cow, honey?" and then giggle before going back to my dinner.
There was story in the paper today about the couple that owned that last cow. You know, the mad one? They'd never sold their cows before, they were award winning milk cows, you see. But the husband, after a particularly bad bout of meningitis has had 4 limbs partially amputated. Meaning he's had part of every single leg and arm he's got - cut off. And even though they'd modified his tractor he couldn't keep up with the milking. So, they sold the cows. Mad cow had a name, you know. They'd named it....Sakerviskoe. It had put food on their table.
But it was born four months before Canada and the US placed the ban on what cows were fed. In April of 1997.
TopStory2.
Far be it from me to point out that terrorists could kill you at any second, a bus could hit you first thing in the morning, that salmon could give you cancer and that cigarette you're jamming in your gate will kill you more surely than anything else , but I do feel the need to pose the following quote from Macleans for consideration....."At its height, the British mad cow crisis was discovering 1, 000 new cases a week. In North America, there have now been two isolated cases in a year." Read that again. Too lazy? Here, let me do it for you....
....."At its height, the British mad cow crisis was discovering 1, 000 new cases a week. In North America, there have now been two isolated cases in a year."
In Canada, if there's a cow that looks sick, they kill it and test it. As far as I've read, in the US, they don't. So, yeah, maybe poor little Sakerviskoe went out to market. But blame your government for that, not ours. This is destroying our livelihood. "Connecting the infected cow to Canada could deal another blow to the Canadian beef industry, which has struggled since it found its case of mad cow last May. It lost $1 million in beef trade per day as countries cut off beef imports." (article here). One million per day. For a country of 31 million and since most of the cows come from Alberta, a province of 3 million. To extrapolate....in a breakdown, I pay 33 cents a day because of two cows. I don't know about you but I bring home $1700 a month. My mortage, condo fees and property taxes take $1,000 off the top. The cow takes another $100 or so. Gee, thanks, thank god I can eat cheap beef, after I pay my bills, I'd starve to death otherwise. And, yes, Canadians do appreciate cheap meat. And, yes, we will go on in our don't-rock-the-boat tolerant fashion. But I don't think we're the ones with the mad cow problem. I think it's the rest of the world.
And I don't think it's the cows that are mad.
BUT, thank GOD, the Americans will be okay. "If U.S. and Canadian officials confirm that the sick cow in Washington state came from Canada, it might save the export market for the American beef industry because the United States could keep its disease-free status and continue trade." (article here). Because, of course, we know how important and loved the Americans are. If we want to get down to the "who you like, who you don't like" cliche from highschool, well.... the good guys finish last? Don't they? God forbid, the US tests those cows that look like they're sick. Not when we can blame it on where the cow was born, seven years ago.
It's all very well to go on and on about the "mad cows" but seriously, get over it and push your governments to test as well as Canada's does. Stop your fucking moaning and complaining and use your voice to make a change. Does anyone who eats British beef wonder if they're going to die or do you all have it in for the Canadians? Let's just sit about and watch another country die, that sounds like fun, "pass the dip will ya? Cause you know, I've always hated those damn smug war-mongering Canadians. Let's just stick it to them."
Don't get me wrong, but next time you go to a restaurant and order salmon are you going to ask if it's farmed or not?
e @ 8:18AM | 2004-01-10| Hear, hear Jen. My best guess is that poor little Sakerviskoe's ear tag was the quickest Canadian ear tag they could lay their hands on. If they are worried about the quality of their beef cattle, they should start by not feeding them shit- the US is the only first world country to my knowledge that allows manure to be put into animal feed- and all for the sake of profits- shit is cheap. I remain extermely sceptical that little Sakerviskoe or her former master had anything to do with what is blatant protectionism.
e @ 8:22AM | 2004-01-10| Also, as I understand, the cow's meat actually went into the food chain before they'd run the tests for BSE. Seems like the US is about ten years behind Britain on this one...
Jen @ 12:45PM | 2004-01-11| Scary isn't it? I never knew about feeding them manure though. Poor bastards. Humans suck.
voice mails, pants and project completes
I got a voice mail this morning from T2 (for those of you not following: VP of my company) saying: I've just had this flash of something wrong with the phone system. I think we may need to call in the phone guy. Call me if you're interested."Man, a workplace that encourages me...in matters of...lust. Maybe since they're all so young as a single girl I'm a liability with the wives. No matter, you can't beat their enthusiasm.
T1 (managing director and my boss): If we're going for beers - it's 5 to three so there's no way you'll make it to the mall, buy pants and be back in 10 to meet at the bar. I'll bet you ten bucks.
We made it there, got my pants (the ones I love - on sale still) and back in 12 minutes. 12 minutes. I lost the bet. But Lelu and I got a workout. Which she needed as she leaves for Cuba in the morning for a week of laying around, the bitch.
The project went in. NO revisions to my work. How perfect is that?
oops, dinners up.
I'll endeavor to write something tomorrow not dealing with the mundanity of my day to day life. But....
Fuck, I'm happy.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
a couple more conversations
1. during a discussion of our crappy dental planDr.B: Well, Jen, if you were to say...er...commit to something in your life, well, then you could combine their dental plan with yours and get a much better deal. As I've mentioned though, that would entail committing yourself.
me: Ahh, but that's what the phone guy is for. Do you think he's with the program?
T2 - wandering by: Oh, for Christ's sake, are we still on the bloody phone guy?
me: You're just upset cause he's cuter than you. And younger. Isn't it your 39th birthday in a couple weeks?
T2: 38. How much did you say it cost to call him in on a service call? Who's funding that?
2. over the huge project I'm just supposed to be 'helping' with
me: T1 - are you going to write those questions for the screener?
T1: I don't want to. Why don't you?
me: I don't have the experience to do that. I'm your EA.
T1: It's not hard to do.
me: But isn't that partly why you get paid roughly 8 times as much as I do?
T1: But I don't waaaaant to.
me: Neither do I!
Of course, three hours later I realize that instead of the questionnaire being due on the 19th as I'd deluded myself into thinking, it must be complete and clean by tomorrow. Right about the time he was returning to the office after his haircut and I was leaving for mine.
me: T1 - I mistakenly thought we had another week to fight about this, so since it's my fault why don't I write the questions and you can just approve them in the morning?
T1: Fabulous idea! You're great!
me: Yeah, thanks. Nice haircut by the way.
T1: Thanks! Looking forward to seeing yours in the morning!
So, now, here I will be. Writing survey questions for a national internet survey with absolutely no freaking idea of what I'm doing. On one hand, it sucks. On the other, hey, one more thing I can cite in my salary negotiations and I am touched by their faith in my intelligence.
Must try not to fuck it up.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
of course...
...there's always another point of view.Monday, January 05, 2004
book
The interesting thing about this book I'm reading (Strange Loves - The Human Aspects of Sexual Deviation, Dr. Eustace Chesser) is that it was written in 1971 and is an attempt at explaining that most aspects of human sexuality are not abnormal. I find it a bit terrifying that 23 years later, the common theme is a plea for 'tolerance and understanding.' We don't seem to have gotten very far, have we?Gripping chapters such as "The Psychology of the Prostitute" and "Pathological Sadism" are interspersed with case studies and little history lessons. Quite intriguing.
A little tidbit I found a bit ...erm...hypocritical was the fact that, historically, only four European countries treated lesbianism (as in female homosexuality) as a crime, one of them being Greece.
While being the most recognized culture of the world for homosexual (as in male homosexuality) relationships.
Go figure.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
complete strangers are going to make me fat
case in point #1 = Jamie Oliver and his bloody kitchen.case in point #2 = Labyrinthman and his Marks'n'Sparks and crepes.
See, J.O. is making me think about what I'm cooking, which you'd think would be healthy. Except for the simple fact that meals have just become more elaborate. ie: bigger.
And, labyrinthman made a comment in his lj about crepes this afternoon. Which normally wouldn't faze me in the slightest. Except he followed it up with the phrase "lemon and sugar". Which, like Pavlov and his little doggies, causes me to begin craving and salivating. I guess they are crepes but my mother called them 'english pancakes' and made them for us afterschool all the time when I was a child.
After about 12 minutes trying to find something to watch on TV to take my mind off the craving, I gave up (quite ungraciously) and went to the store. Mom always used to say the first one was garbage as you had to get used to the pan, but no, I ate that first one (wasn't bad either) and then four more. I had to force myself to put the unused batter in the fridge and stop eating.
And in the interest of forcing my hair to grow out faster past this horribly awkward stage I've begun taking biotin and shou wu pain as they are both supposed to inspire my follicles. Two days ago I actually started taking the Greens+ (that's been in the fridge for a year) to further prod them to action. I've had to decide tonight, in the light of having eaten two full meals in the space of three hours, that horrible green tasting water will be all I'm having for dinner.
I am quite pleased that a comment I made inspired a post by PornyBoy. Although, I'm not so sure about mixing the Scottish blog with the English Pancake and the Canadian winter. Could be disasterous.
Saturday, January 03, 2004
whacked sense of time edit
...cause J.O. was SUNDAY? No. It was New Years' Day, which was Thursday. Where am I? What year is this? Was I supposed to be at work today?what do you mean...
you won't go to a movie with me? Okay, fine! I know I just cried through 'Finding Nemo' but it was cause it was so cute and well done.....(mine? mine. mine.) not cause I'm a big sappy bag of liquid.....really.Damn you, Jamie Oliver, damn you. After 8 hours of viewing on Sunday, I'm indoctrinated...I can no longer cook a meal without trying to make it better. Tonight, I'll be messing with chicken breasts.
ohh, that sounded a bit nasty, didn't it? Good thing I'm reading that book.
Even more frightening, everything so far has been a smashing success.
Friday, January 02, 2004
other people are funny
It's Funny Cause it's Shit.tee hee. Evil woman :)
and finally,
review of 2004.
boop boop be doop
I moved from office to cubicle today. It's very bright in the pit here...I don't like it. The brightness, that is. I'd rather live in a world of perpetual twilight. Some sacrifices are necessary to indicate a clean break from scary and so, rilly, in the end, it's something I can learn to live with. I don't think my skin will start to peel off anytime soon. I can survive the light in the knowledge that once the tenants next door move from their space in June I'll get my own office again, right smack dab in the middle of two of my favorite people.The phone guy this morning had the most beautiful eyes and I am torn between leaving since I'm all settled in and waiting around to see if he comes back today to put back the line he took out accidentally.
Ahh, he just showed up so I'm free to go. Yay. Yay. And, yup, he's still as cute as ever. The current thinking around the office is that once the dog checks out, I will mend my single ways within a month or two cause I won't be able to stand the silence in the house. Maybe that's true, maybe not. You just never can tell. Although, I'd prefer a boyfriend who slept on the floor beside the bed and breathed noisily. That would work.
I'm also torn between going to the bookstore to get something to read or not, to force myself to do the work this weekend from home that absolutely must be completed for monday's return to the real world. As opposed to work since the 19th - no one here, showing up late, leaving early, making the decision to not come in at all here and there. I don't think I've done more than 3 hours of serious work in seven days. Unmotivated and right smack dab in the middle of a drooling numbing rut. I know that the new group of people who are now included under 'my responsibility' have been chomping at the bit to give me work so it may be a bit of a shock come Monday.
Of course it doesn't help that...Currently: -18 C (-0.4 degrees F), light and blowing snow. Wind chill makes it feel like -31 C (-24 F)
Overnight: -29 C (-20 degrees F), cloudiness and a wind chill that will make it feel like -42 C (-35 F).
As labyrinthman put it so perfectly yesterday....
Welcome to Canada. We'll be taking over as hell once it decides to freeze over.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
still waiting for the gunshots
..I can't believe I've been watching this for almost 7 hours. They're just cooking for Tony Blair. It did inspire me to make a wonderful dinner though. *burp*I brought work home. Didn't do it. The only things that gone done today were what could be accomplished during commericals.
I think I have a crush on Jamie Oliver.
Jamie's kitchen
I've been watching the whole schwack of these today since I've never seen them and someone at work insisted I watch.I'm torn between horror at the bloody ungrateful lazy gits. "I'm into it. I'm here. Give me another chance." After 10 chances they still the balls to ask for another.
And awe at the sheer weight of what's he's trying to do, his humor and his patience.
Is the finale that he snaps and kills them all before losing his house and turning the gun on himself?
I can't stand the suspense.
e @ 8:23PM | 2004-01-01| Sadly, these are fairly typical British teenagers- zero sense of responsibilty, zero commitment to anything, zero sense of loyalty, zero understanding of anything not pertaining to themselves or to "youf" culture. Welcome to Yob Britain.
Jen @ 9:54PM | 2004-01-01| jeez, I can't believe he's taking on 15 more. gahhhhh.
in other news
I managed to clean the kitchen and all the walls. However, since my baseboards aren't sealed the gluey stuff collects fricking everything and requires scrubbing with a nail brush, and although I was hyped up for that in the late morning when I got out of bed, in the end the sheer thought of it defeated me. So I vacuumed and mopped instead.I did receive a voice message from the afore-mentioned butthead that showed up in the middle of the night... wanting to take me out for dinner for being a such a good person and letting him sleep on the couch. And, since I didn't suffer any ill effects from not having his presence in my life for a year and a half, not to mention that I didn't even give the lack a second thought, didn't bother to even call back. I can do without such stupidly arrogant and misguided people as a part of my day to day existence.
The munchkin and I went for a (relatively) long walk. It feels like it's going to snow. It could be just the fog. We don't get much fog in Calgary and it's all very high up, from my window it seems to sit up near the tops of the skyscrapers downtown. I like fog but I much prefer the low-lying fog of the west coast. The kind that collects in little patches and waits for you to be driving along in the middle of the night before creeping out in front of the headlights. I would venture to say it has a personality and that may be because I miss it but I also have to qualify that by saying that the area I lived in had such a history and many mystical 'happenings' and so I also tend to think of the fog as a sentient 'thing'. Mostly malignant, but sometimes a comforting blanket. Something, here, from part of a larger piece I wrote during/after the trip to Seattle last year with Billy.....
I find the simplicity of this strangely comforting and have been thinking of making my own little religion of it.
With the Pacific Ocean to the west it's like a room with one wall missing. Your instinct is to look out, not back, and it's a good instinct.
Some of the oaks and elms around them rose over a hundred feet and the place was filled with dark, mysterious places that whispered of things you couldn't see but could only imagine and secretly wish for.
I spotted the fog only briefly before disappearing into it and this made me wonder whether you ever saw things for what they were while you were inside them, a part of them. We almost always know where our best interest lies, I think, but sometimes what we know means very little compared to what we feel or end up doing.
The fog forced me to drive more slowly, and it gave me a few minutes to think. Seems like all I do is think - that's how a person all alone spends her time, I thought, trapped inside your thoughts and dreams as this car was trapped inside the fog. Moving slowly. Crawling. Waiting for the workday to start. Waiting for something to entertain me. Waiting for daylight. Waiting for night. Waiting. Waiting. Always thinking ahead, never really being where you are, but somewhere you hoped to be.
The conversation with my stepmother was strange last night. Well, strange as opposed to just painful, as they tend to be normally (and I use the term "normal" very loosely). It's usually a litany of all the things I've done wrong with my life and how those things have affected her life, always adversely, of course. Which is completely wrong, since nothing I've ever done has affected them in any way at all, her problem always being their perception of someone she's never taken any time to get to know. (I have an issue here with "her" "them" statements as I tend to assume my father always held her opinion as truth.) It used to bother me (but now I take a pill for that - just kidding) but they've not been a part of my life for a very long time now. She mentioned that she'd broken her toe the night before so the feeling I got was painkillers + cider = disjointed babbling interspersed with weird silences. And, as usual, blanket statements that have nothing to do with who or what I am. When Billy lived here with me, I told her (and my mother) that if they didn't like it they could fuck right off as they weren't the ones paying the mortgage, nor were they the people who would inherit if I got hit by a bus so they were quite welcome to just go away . Her response to that was.....'you seem to be growing up and more confident in your choices.' Apparantly she missed the last twenty years of my life, but regardless, has treated me with a little more respect since then. Well, the two times I've talked to her, anyways.
There have always been a lot of nasty things between her and I. The passage of time has only allowed me to be more direct but it has not lessened the animosity. She's been a part of my life for 22 years. Twenty-two long years. The thing I remember the best is: she never let up on the the "are you seeing anyone" thing, so once she said to me, "I was your age when I met your father." And, for once, I was happy with my response, "So, you're saying I should go out and find a man 20 years my senior, with a wife who's never worked and three children and sleep with him?" I never heard that particular question again. Last night as she waxed philosophical about happiness (on my behalf, although I have never indicated I'm anything but blissful) she mentioned that she never saw my little sister (half- who's 17) and that my father's priorities were much like mine, she believed that he loved the dog more than them. Oops, like father like daughter, I suppose. Such a shame I look like my mother. Maybe that's been the issue between us. I honestly couldn't say why she's been so .... her ... all these years, but I get the feeling she's like that with everyone, and so I don't take it so personally anymore.
Having said that, there is my side of the equation, there being always two people in any dysfunctional relationship, I chose to no longer be chastised because I didn't grow up to be the person they wanted. Although, in hindsight, it may have helped slightly to know what it was they were expecting. But, alas, they never shared that with me. Nor did they give me the tools to achieve it, whatever it was.
When I left my for-life job with the government eleven or so years ago, I remember her holding the phone away and yelling... "John, come and tell your daughter she's an idiot." My father's reply? "Jennifer will do what Jennifer wants to do." I have never had the feeling that he's not proud of me, although he never came right out and said one way or another. My father was notorious for not saying much, or anything, for that matter. I find it strange that my older sister and I both put so much stock into what we thought he wanted for us, having no idea, then or now.
And on that happy note, it's time to take the dog out for a quick pee and an even less quick sniff around the block. lyric at post:
..doesn't matter what I say, only what I do..
