The people that you meet...

Christmas shopping in a small town at a major shopping center on a Saturday is an interesting experience, rife with opportunity to mix and mingle, and experience all sorts of interesting confrontations (and non-confrontations).

1. Ex-husband's ex-girlfriend. Duck and cover. It's just a good idea. Take small, petty joy out of knowing I look much better than she does. Old grudges die hard.

2. Guy I've had crush on for about 4-5 years. Asked out him out once. Was turned down on the basis of a messy divorce. Once bitten twice shy, I suppose. Is with his kid, so I forgo my 'Hey still given up on women? because I'd love to restore your faith in our gender' line for the incredibly suave "... Hi. How's it going? .... ". Slap myself silly for being such an obvious social retard and blowing an opportunity with this guy I see like once a year, MAYBE.

3. Sister and brother in law. again, and again, and again. Tell sister about incredibly awkward moment with number 2. Sister insists I should track him down. I probably should have, but on the other hand, I've already asked once. No point in being pathetic about it.

4. Out-of-town friend, visiting family. Invite to christmas party, since she's in town. Make idle chitchat, get in the way of numerous shoppers.

5. Sister and brother in law again. Suspect they may have gift for me in cart, since they are being elusive. May just be in a hurry.

6. Guy I once drunkenly made out with at a bar - with his kids and girlfriend, who happened to be his girlfriend at the time of said bar night. Gah, gah double-gah. Duck and cover time again. Time to get the hell outta dodge, methinks.

7. Sister and brother-in-law again, this time in parking lot. Sister, being the jokester she is, yells 'Stop following me!' from car window. Haw Haw Haw.

Okay, so it's been a few hours since I woke up, so my memory of the dreams I had are kind of blurry.

I'm in Toronto and I'm visiting with my sister in Law Gail, with the girls. Gail and her daughter kayla are there. I decide to go to the mall with Krystle and I bring Reagan with me, but for some reason, not Tierney. Reagan is dressed head to toe in a Bunny Suit. Think Ralphie in a Christmas Story. Pink Nightmare.

I lose Reagan in the mall, and Krystle. I'm frantically searching for Reagan, and crying.

After I finally find her riding the escalator in her bunny suit, I take her back to Gails and it's about 11 at night but we decide to all have some hot dogs. They've been waiting to have dinner until we got back.

I head over to Krystle's, and Melissa and her brother DJ are there. They're both having a smoke and I'm like "Whoa dude, take it outside. Krys is really allergic."

So they both ignore me. And I say again (meanwhile I'm still wondering where the hell Krystle went anyway) "You can't smoke in here, I don't particularly feel like rushing anybody to the hospital with huge asthma attacks"

And Melissa gets really pissed and we're out on the front lawn, just beating the shit out of each other. Not scratching, hair-pulling girl-fighting, but like full-on clenched fist Fight-club-esque fighting, but in that weird cartoonish dream way, where there is no blood or anything.

Then I woke up.

Conversations with my kid - 'Comprehension'

Me:  How was your day?
Reagan: *stretches arms wide*
Me:  This big?
Reagan:  Yeah.

Screaming lunchbags, Stolen bikes, pennies from heaven

This is not my morning.  I got half of this written out and I hit the back button somehow, and it ate the beginnings of my post.  Anyway, I can only chalk it up to a combination of work stress, money woes and sexual frustration as the cause for the dreams that haunted my sleep and woke me with a feeling of foreboding in the pit of my stomach.

Act 1, Scene 1.
I am at work, and the phone rings.  I pick it up and a man on the other end begins ranting and raving, asking why his ad is on hold, and he wants it released now, now, right-friggin-now.  Calmly I ask him for his email or the ad  number, so I can bring up the ad.  He gets as far as 'LV...' and then his voice becomes distorted.  He's screaming so loud that I can no longer hear him.  I repeat myself a number of times, trying to assure him that I'm happy to help, but he continues screaming and shouting.  On my end I'm going "I see sir... If you could... I understand..." but I keep getting cut off.  My boss comes out to see what is going on, and I put the raver on speakerphone so that Ken can see what I am dealing with.

He stands there and listens to the guy, and I try again to say "Sir, I cannot help you if you don't give me the ad number" and he screams "FINE FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU!!!!" at which point my boss nods and says 'Hang up'.

I hang up, but it hasn't stopped the screaming and yelling.  It gets to the point where the phone is dancing and shaking and moving around the desk.  I grab the phone, rip it from the desk and fling it into my lunch bag in an effort to contain it.  Now me, my boss and two to three other co-workers are sitting on the floor watching my lunch bag dance around the floor, spewing muffled obscenities.  As it's violence increases, I start to become afraid.  I force myself awake.
Act 2, Scene 1.
I am in London visiting Melissa.  We decide to go to McDonalds, and there we meet up with Eric (the friend from the Hamilton blog, not Melissa's husband).  He's got his mountain bike and we decide to take turns riding it.  Mel gets on, and takes a spin around the block, then decides to take the bus home, telling me she will meet me later.

As I awkwardly attempt to get on this huge monstrosity of a bike (keeping in mind that Eric's about 8-10 inches taller than me), he tells me to wait, that he's gotta go do something first.  I say "well, why don't I go for my ride while you're doing whatever it is?" and he says "No, just wait, I wanna watch, I just gotta do something first".

So I sit down in the McDonalds with the bike, and as I'm waiting, so begins monsoon season in London Ontario.  It's raining so hard that I can see that within minutes, the streets are ankle deep in water, and it's just torrential downpours.  I talk to some elderly ladies for a while, before I give up on Eric and decide to take the bus back to Melissa's, where she makes dinner and we shoot the shit.
Act 2, Scene 2
It is 2am in the morning, and I wake up at Melissa's house, realizing that I left my friend's $2K mountain bike at the McDonalds, unlocked, unchained, and I feel horrible.  I decide I can't wait until morning to take the bus, I have to take a taxi there at 2 in the morning, on the offchance that no one has stolen it.  I wake up Melissa, because I have realized that:

A) I don't know the cab number
B) I dont' know Melissa's Address
C) I don't know where the McDonalds is.

She's taking her time, and I'm contemplating how to tell my friend that I let his pride and joy get stolen, at the same time wondering just where the hell he went, anyway.  Then I am awoken by the cat.

Act 3, Scene 1
I'm at what I think is my parent's back yard, but it actually looks like the backyard of my ex-brother-in-law Curly's old place, and is located across from MSS where Ranville's live.  They are having some kind of children's party, and there are balloons and kids everywhere.  The girls are running around, and there are adults showing up with their kids.  I see two guys that I went to high school with, Adam and Dan, and I go up and give them hugs, tell Dan long time no see, and when I go to hug Adam he whispers to me 'you are looking amazing' and I tell him he doesn't look so bad himself.  Cleaned up, dressed nicely, etc.  I decide this is interesting, I'm sticking around for a while. 

Kids are running and playing.  I start to realize that the girls are horribly late for school, but decide oh well, it won't hurt them to pull them out for a day, they are having so much fun.  I have also realized however, that I haven't shown up for work, and haven't called or anything, and it's getting on 3-4 in the afternoon.

Act 3, Scene 2.
So it seems that this event my parents have held is a kind of fundraiser for the less fortunate, and somehow my friend Amber and I have won the two grand prizes.  I'm presented with a book full of checks for varying amounts, and I say "well this will definitely hold me over if I get fired for not showing up today".  We're both pretty much blown away.  I ponder the ethics of winning the prize when my parents ran the event, but eventually shrug it off and go to the bathroom.

Inside the house is some kind of converted mobile home.  The floor under the bathroom is rotting away and I have to step lightly to avoid falling through the floor.  I pull down my pants, and at that moment, I fall through the floor and manage to pee all over myself.  *sigh*
Phone rings, I'm awake.  And dry, thank god.

I fuggin' love my country...

Because our federal politics is like watching a season of 'Survivor'.

For the first immunity challenge, parliament's job was to pass a budget.  The Conservative tribe lost that challenge.

Now the tribes have merged, and the NDP and the Liberals are forming an alliance with the Bloq Quebecois to vote Stevie off the island.

Now PM Harper is trying to win immunity by getting the Governor General to shut down Parliament for the holidays.

I swear, this shit's better than hockey.  Tune in next week on "Survivor: Ottawa"

Conversations I never thought I'd ever have.

Counselling a friend:

"If you're going to have a fuck buddy, your husband is probably the worst choice ever.  Think on that."

On Accessorizing:

"'that's a nice eyebrow ring.'  'Thanks, it matches my friend's clit ring'"

Conversation Starters:

"So I have a friend that runs a fetish site..."

Friends don't let friends....

"If I ever find out, be warned, I will bitch slap you." "Okay but you gotta let me put it on the website"

Conversations with my kid - 'Literalism'

Scene: In the car, listening to "Blue Like Nevermind" by Kimya Dawson.

Eyes like almonds I've been told and friends are found when keys are stolen...

Reagan:  That's not really true, you know.
Me:  Sorry, honey.  What's not really true?
Reagan:  You don't really find friends when your keys get stolen.

{pause}

Me:  No, I guess not.

Conversations with my kid - 'Disinformation'

Tierney: Wow mommy, why is it so dark out already?

Me: Because a long time ago, some silly person invented Daylight Savings Time and actually thought it was a good idea.

Tierney:  Who, Jesus?

Me:  Yeah, let's go with that.

I thought my own dreams were disturbing...

My friend and co-worker Aimee apparently had a dream that I was a heroin addict, and was chasing her around trying to jab her with giant syringes as she pleaded for me to give up the junk, for the sake of my children.

It kind of makes me wonder if other people dream about me, and what about.

I've lately been trying to start keeping a dream journal, but between a tendency to sleep in, and sheer laziness, it's been slow going. I did get one down though. The other night I dreamt that I had bought a big fuck-off black pick up truck, that got stolen when I decided to leave the keys in it while I slept on the big grassy hill in Rotary Park (I think that's the one... the big huge one on Bayshore drive). I woke up to one of the guys that used to work at the Tat Shack telling me my truck had been stolen.

So I went to a sporting good store and asked my sister if she had seen my truck. She said no, and asked me what the make and model was. I stood there, perplexed, because all I could answer was "Um... it's shiny, black and really big". Nicky berates me for buying a truck and not even knowing what kind I bought.

So I decide to go to the cop shop, where one of the ladies from the co-op board takes my report. The cop shop is apparently now located in the lounge above the YMCA pool. She also gives me a hard time about not knowing what kind of truck I drive, as well as for leaving it unlocked with the keys in it. I tell her that I didn't want to leave it LOCKED with the keys in it.

I’ve misplaced my editor.

A friend of mine greeted me tonight on MSN with the question "We're old, aren't we?" to which I replied, "Yes, probably."

Every so often it occurs to me with all the subtlety of a mac truck that 30 is a mere two years away. It seems bizarre to me, first of all because I generally still feel like a 12-year-old (cue up Kim Stockwood) who has somehow stumbled into a life with children, responsibilities, and an intricate social tapestry of adulthood that seems totally foreign too me. Think Tom Hanks in "Big" if he had possessed a particularly fertile womb.

But in addition to that, it has occurred to me that most of my childhood or adolescent heroes were dead by this age. That's something that can fuck with your head pretty good if you think about it long enough.

*************************************************************************

I saw a Rita Rudner special on PBS tonight. Rita Rudner is all sorts of awesome. Pledge Drives, on the other hand, suck hard.

*************************************************************************

Started another picture last night, and so far I'm really excited about how it's turning out. The idea was one that's been rolling around in my head for quite a while, but it's kind of ambitious, so I've been really nervous about starting it. But so far I'm liking what I've done with it.

*************************************************************************

Going to Toronto tomorrow to wish my aunt a happy birthday, and let her see the girls, then probably hanging out with Krystle. good times.

*************************************************************************

Rye Cafe is having open mic nights on wednesdays. Need to find a babysitter, and an 'open mic' buddy. Safety in numbers you know. Going to one of those things by yourself - you know, with intentions of performing - without moral support is harrowing enough to at best cause one to start smoking again, or at worse, bring on a full-on cardiac episode.

So if anyone is free wednesday nights, lemme know.

Every Parent Remembers...

.. their child's first mondegreen.

Apparently Tierney has been living under the impression that Aimee Mann was saying "Was it scary?" rather than 'Voices carry'

Gross.

One of the ads I saw today while at work was for the following:

Reusable Esophogeal / Rectal Temperature Probe

I'm not sure what is more vomit inducing - that it doubles as both a rectal AND an esophogeal (read: down the throat) probe, or that it's REUSABLE.

I think Dante and Randal would have something to say about this - Would that fall under the category of 'ass-to-mouth'?

*pukes*

Irony has a crunchy coating.

So the dentist's office has been calling me lately to remind me that it's time for the girl's check up.  I'm excited about this, because I'm finally covered for dental.  But of course, with work being nuts, I've consistently forgotten to call.

Today on my lunch hour, I sat, thoughtfully chewing on a chicken sandwich, thinking to myself "That's right, I should call the dentist today" and...

CRACK!
Friggin tooth is now a jagged shard.  From a SANDWICH of all things.

Where was I... ?  Oh right.. call dentist.

(did they plan this?) 

Nickels for your nightmares, dimes for your dying dreams.

Wow.  Some people amaze me, acting like high schoolers, while nearing 30.  He said, She said.  It's all I can do to keep from laughing hysterically.  All I can say is glad I backed off when I did.  Go with your gut, yesirree.  Sometimes soul-destroying heartache can be a good thing, when it keeps you out of other potentially drama-filled, just ridiculous situations. 

*******************************************************************************

I found a place downtown that rents out a wall to display art work for 20 bucks a month.  i'm looking into it.  They're booked up until January at this point, but that  might give me time to come up with stuff I might actually want to display and/or sell.  So far, I'm pretty hit and miss.  The stuff I think is good enough to display, I'm not sure if I would want to part with, and the stuff I'd be willing to part with, I don't know if I'd feel right asking for money for, or even having my name associated with.  I wish I had more confidence in my ability.  I dont' know if I'm being too self-critical, or if I really am just as mediocre in my pursuits as I think I am

*fishes for compliments*

Seriously though, I've said before, for once, I'd like to be prodigious at something, instead of half-decent at many things.  I'm an okay singer, an okay guitarist, okay artist, okay writer, etc etc.  I'd like to be super-awesome at something.

Something weird you may not have known about me...

I have a compulsive need to touch doors before I open them.

Wait, hear me out.

I'm prone to static shocks sometimes, especially in winter, and somewhere along the line, I have picked up a habit of touching a door before I grab the doorknob, just to ground myself.

It's like I'm afraid that if I grab the handle I may somehow electrocute myself. Half the time I'm not even concious that I'm doing it anymore.

Well, I don't know about you, but I feel better having that off my chest.

Follow-up blues

The good news: My aforementioned friend (two blogs back, before the wiki-birthday thing), is not a total asshat, with the intentions of ignoring my heartfelt confession of my feelings. I finally got the call two nights ago, so I was not forced to make a second difficult phone call.

Which brings the bad news: Apparently there is a spark lacking somewhere. So boo for me. Needless to say, I've been a bit of a wreck the past couple of nights.

I knew as soon as I answered the phone and he started talking that it was not going to go as hoped. But, alas, I was prepared for such an eventuality - hence why it had taken so long to get to that place where I was ready. I had to know I would be okay with a no.

The most important part of the conversation I think was where he apologized for leaving me hanging. He said he didn't want me to ever think that he was taking this decision lightly, and that a day hadn't gone by where he didn't think about was going (or not going) to happen.

I think we're going to be able to be friends, and I told him that. I am going to need time to lick my wounds, but I keep holding onto the fact that it's out there in the open now. Now there is nothing to do but heal, and eventually move on.

The silver lining here (because let's face it, this fucking sucks) is that even though the romantic feelings I have are not reciprocated, after talking with him, I don't question his investment into our friendship. The worst part during the last two weeks was actually wondering if maybe I had read more into the last 13 years than he had... You know, like finding out that someone you consider a really close friend merely considers you an acquaintance? That was something I was beginning to fear, and that saddened me more than anything.

I'm glad that I don't have anything to question any more. And I'm glad I did this now. I've done a lot of growing over the last year, and say, a year ago, my confidence was so low something like this might have crushed me. Although my ego has taken a blow, I still have enough 'Awesome' left to rebuild the foundation of my self-confidence.

So Yeah. I guess this is the end of an era, in a way. I'm sort of at loose ends, actually... The 'Should I's ' have been a part of my life for so long, that I'm not sure where to go from here. I'm taking a break from dating for a bit.

********************************************************************************

In other news: I'm broke. I need to budget better, and two steps I am taking are to quit drinking Timmies (have to switch to office coffee... GAH!) and start packing myself a lunch again. I've figured I'm spending about 160 bucks a month on coffee and lunch alone. That's my CAR INSURANCE. It's ridiculous.

***********************************************************************************

I'm feeling really creative lately, but also really lazy and rebellious. There are things I know I should work on (ie, the portrait I started painting for Nicky and Franks wedding present) but I find I have many other projects in my head I want to start doing prelim sketches for, and then I feel bad because I'm not working on the damned portrait. I also want to write more, and I still want to try writing some songs, put a little three-piece together for jams and stuff.

I met a guy in my building that lives on the ground floor and has been playing guitar for 40 years. He's offered to give me lessons at a reasonable rate. I was a little offended at first, because I Have been playing for about 15 years, but he got his guitar out and we jammed and I though to myself 'erm... okay, yeah. I could learn some stuff here'. Guy's phenomenal. And doesn't have much else to do all day, apparently. Is on disability (my guess is MS or fibromyalgia) so has not much else to do but take his dogs out for short walks, and play guitar. New, interesting friends are fun.

*******************************************************************************

Two weeks until the Dandy Warhols! *dances*

*******************************************************************************

Oh, going back to the 'creative' thing, I've posted some of my artwork for yer viewing pleasure. Constructive criticism is welcome.

*******************************************************************************

Work has been nuts this week. Between one of our Co-ops leaving, and the other admin girl going on a tradeshow and holidays, my workload has almost tripled this week. I've been leaving late every day this week. Things go back to normal monday though. Oh the exciting world of used scientific equipment sales *shudders with anticipation*

I'm out. Long weekend. Getting kids ready for back to school. They apparently finally got the new building ready for teh kiddies. Wooha. Tierney has a teacher with an un-pronounceable name. And we don't even live in the city.

This looks fun, so Imma do it too.

This is stolen from Mari, Queen of the Desert and Kaydeelicious...

What happened on your birthday? Did empires crumble? Did sports dynasties form? Did nothing particularly interesting take place? Go to Wikipedia and enter your date of birth (month and day only), then post four events, three births, two deaths and one holiday.

EVENTS

August 14, 1908 - The first beauty contest is held in Folkstone, England.
August 14, 1936 - Rainey Beathea is hanged in Owensboro, Kentucky in the last public execution in the United States.
August 14, 1945 - Japan accepts the Allied terms of surrender in World War II and the Emperor records the Imperial Rescript on Surrender (August 15 in Japan Standard Time).
August 14, 2003 - Widescale power blackout in the northeast United States and Canada.

BIRTHS
August 14, 1851 - Doc Holliday, American Gambler and dentist
August 14, 1945 - Steve Martin, Comedian
August 14, 1950 - Gary Larson, Cartoonist

DEATHS
August 14, 582, - Tiberius II Constantine, Byzantine emperor
August 14, 1952 - William Randolph Hearst, American Newspaper Magnate.

HOLIDAYS
National Creamsicle Day

I think finding out that I share a birthday with Gary Larson may just be the single most incredible discovery of my life.

And yeah my 25th birthday was a memorable one, for many people.
I could have sworn Elvis died on my birthday.

Bite Me Hollywood, you lying sons of bitches.

I will never in my life watch another romantic comedy. I have been lied to. There are no happy endings. It's Action and/or Slasher flicks from now on. At least when life doesn't imitate them, it's a GOOD thing.

I should probably explain my blog previous to this, for those who could access it. That, my friends, was the written equivalent to my general reaction Tuesday before last, when I finally bit the bullet and confessed my more-than-friendly feelings to a friend of many many years. In my time on earth, I have never felt so close to a full-fledged cardiac arrest, or at the very least, hyperventilation to the point of passing out. I won't get into the conversation, but it was not terribly long, I came out and said what I needed to say, and told him to think on it for a day or two. No knee-jerk reactions please. At the very least, I thought it was at least a little promising.

It was time to come clean, anyways, because I had been holding onto this knowledge for over four years. I had always waited for a good time to tell him, but there was never a good time, and I came to realize that there will be no 'perfect time' - there will pretty much be bad times to tell him, and worse times to tell him. I figured one random night over the phone while he was kind of between relationships was better than drunkenly banging on his hotel room door the night before his wedding.

I have not had much luck in relationships over this time, and I think along with the hurt from the separation, I also think that I have been holding most guys up against this one particular friend.. I would fear commiting 'just in case'. Sabotage. I eventually came to the conclusion that until I had this 'what if?' question resolved, I would never give another man a fair chance.

Things have not turned out well. Definitely not as I hoped. I don't even need to say what I hoped, the hollywood ending would do. But this is not even as I had expected. Having prepared myself for the worst, I had prepared myself for the 'I don't think this would be a good idea, lets just be friends'. I also prepared myself for some weirdness, but I figured the weirdness would mostly be my doing.

What I was not prepared for was a week and a half of almost utter silence (other than a short birthday text). I was not prepared to be held in limbo. I don't like limbo. Hell, I don't even like TO limbo. Of all the people in the world, he was one person I thought grown-up enough to be able to deal with being faced with one's feelings. I thought him capable of paying me the respect of at least speaking with me about it.

I don't know if he's at all cognizant of how difficult it was for me to come out and say what I did. And now what I feel is worse than rejected. I feel utterly disregarded. And like perhaps 13 years of friendship meant more to me than it ever did to him. And it's breaking my heart.

So fuck you Hollywood. Fuck you Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Fuck you Ashley Judd and Hugh Jackman. Fuck you Julia Roberts and whoever you happen to be starring opposite this week. John Cusack, you can take that big old Boombox and Shove it up your ass. Fuck you Molly Ringwald, because Andrew McCarthy is a pussy and Jon Cryer was totally the shit. Screw you all for giving girls like me hope for jumping the gap from friendship to something more.

Confessions of a headphone junkie

Originally written for the Tay Township Report, January 2008

I lost a dear friend of mine two weeks ago. As I was driving home from work, I stopped to pick my children up at their father's house, and hit pause on my iPod Nano. When I came back, all signs of life had disappeared. Frantically, I held down the play button, waiting for the tiny screen to light up. I cradle it's tiny body in my hands, uttering words of encouragement, lightly sprinkled with the odd obscenity, in hopes of talking it out of its apparent technological suicide. After a few minutes, I realized I would have to drive home, with only the radio and the happy squeals of my children for company, for that long five minute drive home. Dejected, I listened to the spurts of chatter and sporadic bursts of melody, as the car stereo scanned in search of a station to suit my needs. Upon arriving home, I crossed my fingers as I plugged my little silver and pink friend into my computer, certain that, like someone in insulin shock, all it needed was a little juice. Nothing.

It may be time for an introduction. My name is Andrea, and I have a problem. I am a full-fledged music junkie. There are plenty of music lovers in the world, but I am an addict. I used music the way others used anti-depressants, as a method of keeping me balanced. When I clean, when I drive, when I walk, when I exercise, it's there, keeping me company. In the early days of my current employment, one of the main draws of the job wasn't the pay, or the hours, but the fact that I was able to spend over 7 hours a day with my then-generic-brand mp3 player, as dear to me then as my little buddy is now. My head would swirl with ideas for playlists. I spent an entire day listening to nothing but the Pixies. More recently I embarked on a plan to listen to every track in my music collection, alphabetically by title. I was excited, and life was good. Poor thing didn't make it past the 'I's.

Upon returning to work after a period of mourning (okay, it was monday) I settled back into my routine. It was then, I had a revelation. Although I had never realized it before, my co-workers wanted to talk to me. Perhaps I was happily distracted, or maybe I just plain couldn't hear them over the melodic strains of Social Distortion, but they had been attempting to communicate with me, and I had been missing out. Every junkie hits that moment, when they realize that their habit has become a hindrance on their life in some way. I realized that my physical and metaphorical attachment to those little earbuds were having a negative effect on my social life - and probably my hearing as well.

It's been two weeks. In a moment of optimism and desperation, I've just plugged my little buddy back into my computer, and imagine that... a tiny, faint apple appeared on it's screen. I'm joyous, but also wary. I hope that, given this second chance, my little friend and I can start over in a relationship thats a little more healthy, for both of us.

Well, I’m out like a cheap plaid leisure suit...

I'm taking the kiddies and heading for the wilds of nothern ontario (and minnesota, Wisconsin, and upper peninsula Michigan) off to see meliss, my best bud in the world.

I have my iPod packed up with all the fantasticness I could fit onto 2 lousy Gigs... that should get me most of the way there, I hope.

I'm hoping my little Betty's trunk can fit all the crazy crap that I have had to pack for this journey.

Eating some cereal, having a coffee, gonna make me a buttload of sammiches (I have a goal to actually stop to eat no more than once... that being said, I've bought a stupid amount of food for the cooler.

Happy Trails all... I'll return in a week!

I'll miss ya, you know who you are.

The non-stoppage

I could probably fill a book with the goings-on of the last few weeks, I tell yas.

Last weekend was my sister's wedding. On the thursday night before the wedding, I get home from baseball to a message that my dad is at the hospital, having been hit in the face with a softball at his own game. Nicky tell's me I should drop the kids off at Tony's and go sit with mom at the hospital. She's a wreck, needless to say. The ball, I should mention, knocked Dad out cold. I'm sure for a few moments she was probably wondering if he was dead. I would have been.

Oddly enough, that same night, at my game, the pitcher on the opposing team got hit with a line drive to the neck. As I'm telling my mom about this, the gentleman across the row from us mention that was his wife. He commented on my uniform and says "So, you're on blue? You're not the one that hit her, are you?' No, I can barely hit, let alone hit hard enough to take someone out. But thanks.

We end up having to follow an ambulance down to RVH, as dad needs to see an emergency ophthamologist. There's some concern about 'damage' - meaning, in short, he could possibly lose his eye. As luck would have it, had he not been wearing glasses, although they did cause some damage, he definitely WOULD have lost the eye. Mom and I drive down there, and wait for the ass-hat ophthamologist (prescibed a bunch of stuff, but forgot to put a quantity on the most important script) to do his thing. It's not looking good at this point. The words 'Hamburger MEat' were used in conjuction with my dad's cornea. He looks like a bag of shit at this point. We are told he has to come back the next two days in a row, and might not be able to make the wedding.

Fortunately, despite things looking dicey on friday (after coming back from the hospital, he was pretty much in bed all day), be saturday, he was there to walk nick down the aisle, get some pictures taken (with large sunglasses to cover up the gore), and through most of dinner. I was glad to see him make it, because it was hard seeing Nick so upset, and conflicted, since it was a freak accident with no one to blame. Things always go wrong at weddings, but to have your dad not being there because of a rogue softball, well, that's pretty fricking wrong.

The wedding itself went off with very few hitches. I had taken the day before off to help with preparations and do the fun/girly mani-pedi day... one of our friends, Sandy brought a cooler of daquiries to the spa, complete with fancy glasses and parasols. By the end of the day though, after running around collecting trees, and the rehearsal dinner, and such, I was pretty wiped, in light of my 2.5 hrs of sleep.

We got a mostly nice day with the wedding, rained for a bit right after the ceremony which through the sched off a bit, but it wasn't disastrous by any means. My girls were adorable, I just kept looking going 'I MADE THOSE!!'. I got through my solo piece without screwing up, and got lots of compliments. Nicky looked fabulous, of course, as did us wedding party members.

I spent this week just kind of recuperating, although I enjoyed some company earlier in the week. Yeah, bizarre I know, but I'm actually 'seeing someone' which is new, and pretty foreign to me, but enjoyable nonetheless. The whole concept takes getting used to, but it's really nice, even if a bit overwhelming, to have someone who wants to be with me, on more than just the 'friend' or 'friendly lay' level. Someone who is willing to even deal with their own shyness and spend a weekend in a strange place with people he doesn't know, if only to spend time with me. Yeah, not really used to that. But I like it.

Which brings me to another fun-filled Pride weekend in toronto, which I will probably have to make a part two of, since I'm dead tired, and coming down with some kind of cold. Blah. Bedtime for me.

I got all mah sistah’s with me

Today was an enjoyable day, out with the girls, just lunching and coffeeing and general shooting of the shit.

It was the type of day I have not had in a while, I've been spending most of the winter as a hermit, not doing enough to even warrant blogging about.

I found it refreshing, to hang out with not only a close friend, but also with her two other friends. I forget sometimes how meeting new people can help to offer new perspectives. It's nice that I can think of these women as my friends now as well.

I started thinking the other day that I make too many excuses for not doing things I really want to do, mostly being lack of time and/or money.

But it's crap really... I make excuses because A) I tend towards laziness sometime, B) Change is intimidating.

I have spurts of bravery, where I decide to go out and do things, or I take risks I would normally not take... with my time, and with my heart as well. I have come to realize, that especially in matters of the heart, I'm more apt to take risks when I know the repercussions are limited.

Which I guess means I don't really take risks at all. Today I left my phone number for the exceeding cute waiter that served us at lunch. Superficial courage, really, because I don't stand to lose much if that call never comes.

I'm thinking I may need to compile one of those 'Before I hit I want to' Lists. I turn 30 in two years. What can be accomplished in two years?

By the end of June, I propose that I will list 10 goals, and begin on working my way toward them.

Some may prove to be less tangible than others (for example, I feel I should make it a goal to be less cautious around people, and learn to trust more), and others may be downright petty, but they are my goals, whatever they may be. I have ideas floating around, but I'd like to have a comprehensive list before I reveal them.

*****************************************************************

So, my sister's wedding is coming up in 3-4 weeks, and I guess I must be having sympathy nervousness, because I had this bizarre dream the other night:

I'm at the wedding, and Nicky is ever the radiant bride, but as I'm looking around, something is not right. I realize that we are in a large open gymnasium, seated at plain rectangular tables.


I say to my mom 'Hey mom, didn't anybody decorate? I thought Nicky was getting a decorator." To which my mom replies 'Don't ask, and whatever you do, DON'T say anything to your sister."


So I'm wandering around, and I start hitting on my friends' brother's friend (who would be about 17... I think this is related to another situation in my life right now, only exaggerated) and I realize, we've not done the photographs yet.


"Hey Mom, did anyone get a photographer?"
"Don't ask. Don't say anything to your sister, just pretend its all okay"


Then I took my camera and took a picture of Camilla Parker-Bowles, which resulted in my camera shattering, and I laughed because she had literally broken my camera, when I took her picture.

Then I woke up.

********************************************************************

Oh, by the way, I'm sexually frustrated beyond belief, in case anyone cares. I've found that after a while with dry spells (this particular one being a DOOZY), it becomes an 'Out of site, out of mind' situation... I'm okay if I don't think about it.

It's when the prospect of dirty lovin' rears its head, that HOLY HELL... And rear it's head, it has. Unfortunately, my need to wake up each morning and like myself has thus far prevented me from taking advantage of this special offer.

Personal code of ethics > Libido. *sigh*

I am it.

I've been food blog tagged. 10 interesting food facts about me.


1) I'm ridiculously picky eater. Some people are overwieght because they love food. I am because I hate a lot of food. Most of it is the stuff that is good for me.

2) I was shocked the first time someone told me that peanut butter and banana was an odd combination. I always figured they went together naturally like snow and ice.

3) Last year I counted the number of hot dog carts in Midland. There were five. That's like 1 for every 5,000 people. It seems like a lot to me.

4) Considering my incredibly picky nature, it boggles my loved ones to no end that I love sushi.

5) I love cheerios. I stock up and buy 3-4 boxes at a time.

6) I cannot keep cheez whiz in the house. It's like crack in a jar. Instead I have it on toast when I go to my parents.

7) my fridge is not complete without polskie ogorki pickles.

8) The most common meals in my house are tacos and spagetti.

9) I recently acquired a taste for salad. I would never touch it before.

10) During my second pregnancy I craved philadephia dill pickle dip. I used to get free chips from work, and so I'd buy the dip, and when I ran out of chips, i just ate the dip with my finger.

To the Makers of Guitar Hero

I’m addicted to Guitar Hero, but my main complaint is the lack of Cancon found within.

I hereby propose the following: Guitar hero: Molson Canadian Rocks Edition


*Let it be hereby said that I am claiming a trademark/copyright/intellectual property rights whathaveyou over this idea, and should such an idea come to fruition, I claim 10% to all profits made by both Molson Canadian and the makers of Guitar Hero, or any other such partnerships that arise involving any canadian version of this or similar games Eg: Rock Band, Sing Star et.*

They could give copies away in cases of beer. It’d be great. My wish list for the play list:

THe Guess Who - American Woman: this one is a gimme. It’s well known by many, and has some decent licks. It’s not MY fave guess who tune, but it’s accessible to the public.

April Wine - Roller - 70’s prog-rock is prime guitar hero fodder. (yes peanut gallery, I probably am using that term wrong. I’ve said before, I suck at Genres)

Platinum Blonde - Standing in the Dark: 80’s Duran duran wannabes represent. And I admit, I love this song.

The Tragically Hip - Little Bones: My first instinct was to go with New Orleans is Sinking, but imo, this has better riffs, and is lends itself better to the Easy/Medium/Hard play structure.

Neil Young - Rockin in the Free world: Yeah, I know, another Gimme. Not to mention Neil is pretty much an american now. I still think it works.

The Watchmen - All Uncovered: Just because I think this would be fuckin killer on Expert Level


Sum 41 - Fat Lip: I don’t care, I like this song.

Matthew Good Band - Indestructible: Again, my first instict was ’Hello Time Bomb’ or soemthing, but after listening to a few tracks, I thought this lent itself nicely to the GH format


Headstones - Reframed (Every single failure): Also lends itself well to the GH format, and I just love the headstones.

Kim Mitchell - Go for a Soda: Have a Canad compilation without Kim Mitchell? I think not. And it has MORE COWBELL.

The Tea Party - The Bazaar : Another one that’d be wicked on Expert.


Metric - Patriarch on a Vespa: the list is lacking girls, and newer music.

Sass Jordan - High Road Easy: Speaking of Girls... plus Sass was awesome in her smack phase. Rats.


Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet - Having an Average Weekend: Because this is my fantasy, so I’m combining some of my favorite things... Canadian music, Guitar Hero and Kids in the Hall.


Billy Talent - This is how it goes: In the name of having newer stuff that doesn’t include Nickelback or various nickelback clones

Alexisonfire - Pulmonary Archery: Actually, I’d REALLY like to see this on Singstar, or Karaoke revolution LOL

Trooper - Raise a Little Hell: It’s that Prog-rock thing again... and my sister once opened for them, so I gots the love for trooper.

That’s it for now: Feel free to leave your suggestions... I tried not to pick these solely on my own like or dislike for songs, but for accessibility, recognizability and for how well I think they would translate to Guitar Hero. I also *tried* to cover each decade between now and the 70s.

Oh my god. I can’t believe I forgot RUSH - For this, I’m picking ’The Spirit of Radio’ because it’s frigging nuts.-

I’m also going to ad "Fly at Night" by Chilliwack to my list.

On this holiday Monday...

To my Canadian (well, Ontarian) friends:

Happy "we-needed-a-day-of-in-february-so-dalton-mcguinty-made-up-this-random-holiday-dedicated-
to-something-we-should-be-celebrating-everyday-anyway-day" - You may know it better as 'Family day'.

To my American friends

Happy Presidents Day (I guess I could also say happy 'we-have-too-many-days-off-in-february-so-lets-just-amalgamate-them-all-into-one-day-day')

The Singleton’s guide to VD fun!

Things to do to make this day if not more enjoyable, at lease more interesting:

1) Scope out one of the busier nice restaurants. Look for a happy looking-couple. Say to the guy/girl 'So this is your sick grandmother!' and storm out. Watch through the window to see what happens.

2) Report a cherub to the child labor board.

3) Wear a black armband.

4) Make numerous references to the Valentines day massacre

5) Four words - custom made candy hearts.

6) Rent 'Prom night' and 'my bloody valentine'

7) Canada Only: Run around wishing people a happy early Flag Day. It's even better if you wear red and white.

8) Call your best friend when you are pretty sure he/she is either about to/in the middle of getting some loving and just say 'Soooo, whatcha doooooin?'

9) Drink 26-40 oz of anything alchoholic you can get your hands on and listen to 'How Soon is Now?' seventeen times in a row. Not eighteen, not sixteen. Seventeen.

And yes. I am going to hell. My bags are packed baby.



Enjoy the VD, folks.

On Aging...

The definition of becoming a grown-up:

A) An increase of 'Hand-wash only' articles of clothing

B) Actually hand-washing said articles as opposed to saying 'eff it' and tossing them in the machine.

C) Taking extra care not to dirty said items, so that you can avoid hand-washing them.

Conversations with my kid - She's got it all figured out.

From the "Everything I need to know I learned in Kindergarten" file....

So my four-year-old daughter is in Junior kindergarten, and it seems she has a boyfriend. I've heard about nothing but this kid since september. Sometimes they get along, sometimes they fight... normal kids stuff.

I had this unnerving conversation with her tonight, which started from her telling me how Dustin chases her at recess.

"He chases me because he's my boyfriend."
"Oh is he?"
"Yeah"
"Is he nice to you?"
"Yeah... Olivia thinks he's mean to me"
"Is he mean to you?"
"No, he just chases me"
"Well, if he IS mean to you, you don't need friends like that."

She nods and after a few minutes, she says, rather profoundly:
"If I want him to stop chasing me, I have to say 'I love you.'"




I was in my 20's before I figured THAT out. Kudos, kid. Kudos.