Tuesday, August 31

Day 10134: My last $7.72

Oh dear, I think I'm broke. I must remember not to spend so much. Those two months rent that came out this month - not necessary. That over-the-top car payment - insignificant. The hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on boozies... um... um... um... ok, so that was an itty bitty of a necessity. It helped me get through the past couple of months, didn't it?

This morning, I walked out my door with $7.72. Payday not being until tonight, I thought, if I spend wisely, I'd just about get through the day and go to the bank for a top-up tomorrow. No big deal, I've gone through days where I've spent less. Breakfast-o'-Timmy-styles (a must because I was starving) bagel $2.00, coffee $1.50. I could do the same for lunch, and still have $0.72 left. Awesome.

Mmmmm... Timmy's coffee... extra jolt of caffeine...

Except that I didn't figure in the guilty feelings I got when I pass by a homeless man, and I didn't figure that he would stare at me through the Timmy's window as I stood patiently in line. So I bought him a bagel too... total bill $5.03. Leaves me $2.69 for lunch. Which I threw into my bag and promptly lost. I'm not so good with carrying change.

Up the street I walk with my bagel and coffee. Feeling a little springy and maybe a little happier that I appeased my guilt by buying someone breakfast. Someone who definitely needed it more than I do, even though by this time, my stomach was having some serious conversation with my spine and my mind had virtually shut down from caffeine withdrawal.

"Just a few minutes more" I tell my grumbly tummy... "Hold on, you can make it."

And then it happened. I accidentally made eye contact with someone sitting just outside my office.

"Can you spare some change ma'am?"

Crap. There is absolutely no way that I'd be able to find some change in that bottomless pit of a bag I refuse to call a purse. I look at him, I look at my purse. I look at him and look at my hands, look at the bagel and look at the coffee. My tummy growled loudly...

"Would you like my coffee. Milk, no sugar. I haven't drank from it yet."

"I'd love it..."

Lunch went on the credit card. I felt like splurging just because I could.

Monday, August 30

Day 10133 1/2: And now you know where I get it from...

Act I, Scene i:
Scene: Maternal unit knows that J is secretly coveting soon-to-be-ex-stepdad's bed that J's been using as her own for the last four years. She also knows that J's budget for the next little while is going to be extremely tight, hence the fact that J has been sleeping on a deflating inflatable air mattress and when that popped, the lumpy pull out couch... what she doesn't know though, is that J does have an emotional attachment to that bed...

J: I have to buy a bed. I don't want to buy a bed... I like my old bed...
M: I have an idea - why don't we tell ESD (evil stepdad) that the dog has slept in that bed. Maybe then he won't want to keep it anymore.
J: Really???? You think that will work? That would be awesome.
M: Hmmm. I'll talk to him about it...
J: Maybe you should tell him that she peed in the bed - that way for sure he won't want it.
M: Did she?
J: Uh - no.

Act I, Scene ii:
Scene: J checks telephone messages...

M: (sounding absolutely positively excited) Call mommy as soon as you get this message...

Act I, Scene iii:
Scene: J returns phone call... absolutely positively perplexed...

J: You called?
M: I have an even better idea!
J: What?
M: He hates your dog. I'm not going to tell him about the mattress. Let him sleep where your dog slept. Hee hee...
J: That's evil... he hates my dog?
M: Yes. Maybe we can even get Tootsie to pee on the bed. Serves him right.
J: Damn. No free bed.

Day 10133: Nostalgia...

Last night, I went back to the townhouse for things I had missed during the Saturday morning moving rush. As I walked around the semi-empty rooms, thoughts of the good times, the laughs, and the years of fun echoed through my head.

I sprawled one last time across the bed where I've dreamt for the past four years, where I've planned my life, and where I... um... had some of the strangest telephone conversations of my life. I gazed fondly at the dining room table - the table that held 75 individually handpainted flowerpots that we used for my mom's bonbonierres, the table where we... um... and the custom made chairs that I put a big scratch in the first day we brought them home.

But somehow, it wasn't the same. The house sounded different. It smelled different. It didn't seem quite like home anymore.

As I walked out to the car, laden with garbage cans and bathroom mats, I thought to myself "Oh no, this is the last time, I'll ever walk down this hallway..." My heart did this little funny, sad flip almost like it was breaking... I had to pause for a second so that I ease the lump in my throat. I get to the car eyes brimming with unshed tears and... damn... forgot something.

Go back in.

As I walk out to the car again, carrying that one last piece of shelving, I think to myself, "Oh no, this is the last time, I'll ever walk down this hallway..." My heart does the little funny, sad flip again... I pause to catch my breath...

I get to the car... "Damn... forgot something..."

Repeat three times.

Friday, August 27

Day 10130: 1-800-GO-IHAUL

Whelp, it's finally here. I get the keys to my new bachelorette pad today. In just a millimeter shy of five minutes I'll depart here a transient, semi-homeless, moocher off the parents and become *ta-da* new super-self sufficient ME! (apart from all the leaning, moaning, groaning, and reliance that I put on my nearest and dearest)... but before I make my transformation...

1-800-GO-IHAUL:
[la-dee-da... on hold, on hold, on hold...]
R: Thank you for calling Ihaul. My name is Roseline, how can I help you today?
J: Yes, I'd like to rent a truck please.
R: For when, ma'am
J: Tomorrow
R: Can I take your information down *giggle*
*BEEP*
J: Hang on, I've got another call... Hello J speaking... can I call you back in a second. Crap. I've lost her.

[I call back...la-dee-da...on hold, on hold, on hold...]
J: I need a truck
D: For when? {dude has Southern accent}
J: Tomorrow.
D: Ok, they're on standby. Which means that they'll call you the day of. If you book it Friday, they'll call you within twenty four hours of your booking time.
J: So, you mean they might call me Saturday...? But I need it FRIDAY!! {WTF???}
D: Yes ma'am. But they might call you Friday too...
J: I need to load the truck tomorrow night. My elevator is booked for Saturday morning.
D: You have an elevator? In your building?
J: Yes, my elevator is booked for Saturday morning...
D: You have an elevator in your building?!!
J: Yes...
D: Wow... and you booked it for your move? I've never heard of that before...REALLY??? Why don't you book the truck for Thursday, that way, you'll have it Friday...
J: Um... today is Thursday... {and I freaking don't want to pay for 2 days, k, dude?}
D: Really? Wow... I have an exam on Friday.
J: Good luck... {you're going to NEED it buddy}

Thursday, August 26

Day 10129: Hitting Rock Bottom

Last night…
I fit into my “fat” clothes again.
I threw out half my closet.
I bawled like a babe – again – for the five trillionth time this month.
I wanted to spray paint “DROP DEAD, PIG SCUM” on the soon to be ex-stepdad’s bedroom wall.
I fought Triscuit and Wai-sum for the spray paint can and lost. Same with the magic markers.
I did not do it for the attention, as Triscuit so eloquently put it. I couldn’t care less about the attention.
I couldn’t care less about anything right now.
I can’t believe I let myself get fat again.
I really want to hurt the soon to be ex-stepdad.
I don’t understand why everyone else says that the best thing to do is to leave him alone.
I don’t care if he’s suffering in silence. I WANT RETRIBUTION… I DEMAND REVENGE.
I can’t drink anymore. Getting drunk is anti-productive, and is making me weepy.
I have a shitload of crap and I have no idea where any of it is going to go in my freakishly small 480 sq ft studio.
I have no place to go after Saturday.
I have no idea how in the name of all that it holy that I would have so much stuff.
I don’t plan on eating ever again.

I hit rock bottom and I’m not happy about it.

Wednesday, August 25

Day 10128 ½: Strength

When I was young, I prided myself on my strength. Crying is for babies, and wusses I would say to myself. I’m tough. I’m strong. I eat spinach just like Popeye. I can handle anything that gets thrown my way. Run, you bullies… take that!! I ain’t no cry-baby girlie girl. Beaches schmeaches - that movie’s for wimps… I am a pillar of strength… lean on ME when the going gets tough.

I grew up and discovered how wrong I was all those many years ago. I’m not tough. I’m not strong. Most days I just want to crawl back into my yellow daisy Holly Hobby princess bed in my bright yellow childhood room and wish that I never had to grow up, that life just passed me by and I could forever just be reading Nancy Drews, Hardy Boys or Bobsey Twins. Wish I never have to grow up… never have to face the real world.

But regardless of my fantasy, it was not to be… all of a sudden, the real world up and bitch slapped me full force in the face. Previously peacefully co-existing, surviving and getting by, avoiding confrontation, sticky situations…unassertive, unassuming, getting along with anyone and everyone, I grew up fast and find myself getting weaker and weaker… and being the one to lean more and more on other people.

And now, I am the wimp I so detested. I am the one who sends out the SOS emails, the how-can-this-shit-be-happening-to-me SMSs, makes the drunken/teary phone calls, the please-run-over-me-with-my-truck-and-I-really-mean-it-this-time pleas. Oh, and I cry. All. The. Time. I cried when the agent called to tell me that the contractor didn’t show up today and that he wasn’t so sure that I could move in on Saturday. I cried yesterday when I couldn’t get a moving van. I cried the day before when I couldn’t stand up straight or walk down the stairs. I cry and cry and cry. Every. Single. Freaking. day.

Today’s incident sent me into a jamoca-almond-fudge-gold-medal-ribbon-covered-in-hot-butterscotch eating frenzy. Yesterday’s was gin. Tonight’s will probably be Chopin… ok, maybe gin… regardless, I pray to all that is Holy that it is almost over and that something out there gives me strength so I don’t have to rely on so many people and can get through this in a confident, mature, cool, and classy way… because right now, I’m a teary-eyed, blurry-headed, sniffling cry-baby fool who dreams that things will once again right itself and go back to the fairy tale from whence I came. Oh, and I know, that given some perspective, my life is all peaches and roses compared to the woman who’s bearing Mike’s mistake.

When this is all over, I will have people to repay and amends to make. I must be strong… T minus 7 days.
Day 10128: Evil GREEN Monster

A flash of jealousy so intense. Blood draining from my face. A stab of ice, then red hot ball of fury in the pit of my stomach that won't go away.

Why should I care if he's going to the party and I'm not. My choice. A friend needs me, and I keep my promises. I should have no qualms about him going out, drinking, partying or even flirting with other girls.

GIRLS. I. INTRODUCED. HIM. TO.

"Cheap drinks...pretty girls. You had me at cheap..."

Kill me. I still care. And that just about wrecks my day.

Tuesday, August 24

Day 10127: Life’s Little Lessons

All alone, absorbed in one’s thoughts, forgetting to look around, smile and enjoy the world passing by. She walks up the street. Head down, eyes neither looking left nor right. Walks straight, never deviating unless someone else walks into her path. Even then, she doesn’t look up. Doesn’t see the smiling baby with a big red balloon, doesn’t see the old man on the street begging for a bite to eat. She hugs herself and shivers from the sudden breeze.

Monday, August 23

Day 10126: Bruised, battered, but happy

All it took was a night away from the city. Away from the lights, the noise, and the problems that seem to constantly crop up in my life. No electricity, no running water… no toilets (to my eternal dismay…) - nothing but fun, sun, happy people laughing and shouting, a whole lot of water to play in, a whole lot of frogs to catch (very little fish though), a nice big smoky bonfire and lots of snackies and drinkies while chilling on a big piece of rock in the middle of nowhere.

I’m happy again… finally. I wish I was still there on Snake Island, McRae Lake.

You never know what you’re capable of doing until you actually get put into a position of having to do it. Regardless, highlights in no random order whatsoever…

Friday night…

J: You want HOW MUCH?
T: Kolbassa, polish sausage… mmmm… sausage…get a foot of it…
J: That’s a whole lot of freaking sausage
T: Yeah, but everyone will want my sausage…
J: Wishful thinking dude…

~ campfire food shopping… mmmm… cherry crumble… oh, and the freaking kilo of polish sausage from which my stomach will never, EVER recover… yuck
~ hissy fit - full out pottery throwing, picture/arm slashing, poster burning, table swiping, CD kicking, I-hate-you-hate-you-want-to-kill-you sort of tantrum… it actually felt good, and now, I’ve come to terms that some people are quite simply just jerks…

Saturday…

J: Has anyone seen Betty-G’s mattress pump?
Terry: Magic pump?
J: MATTRESS pump!!
L: Swedish pump??
A: Swedish p---- pump??
Terry to Jeannette: (waving around an obscenely dough-wrapped hotdog) Hey Janice, want a bite of my wiener…oops, I meant sausage…
J: Oy… Why am I always stuck with a bunch of guys? Someone kick me off the island…

~ up and at ‘em 5:30 AM. Rushing to meet up at the Mickey D’s 45 minutes away. Stopped for cups, forgot to bring the cups… oops.
~ powerlifted 60lb pack. Crap. legs. Going. To. Give. Out. – See! I told you I could do it… now will someone hand me a pair of crutches ‘cuz I can barely walk now
~ canoeing, portaging. Learned how to self-paddle and steer at the same time. Darn it, Triscuit… that was a ploy to get me to do most of the paddling wasn’t it?
~ snakes pee as a defense mechanism. Ew.
~ damn, I missed yet another gunnel war!!! Crap!!! I was sooo looking forward to sending Triscuit into the drink…
~ fishing, fishing, fishing… caught nothing, nothing, nothing… so depressing, depressing, depressing. Yes, it was nice and relaxing, but if you don’t even get a nibble after 2 freaking hours of it…
~ if you touch a salamander’s tail, it falls off. Another defense mechanism. Ew.
~ cherry crumble… mmmm… next year, cherry, blueberry, apple… mmmmmm…
~ “campfire burning, draw nearer, draw nearer” don’t fall in just because you had a “tad” too much drinkie and already fell into the mud that you made because you accidentally poured water on Triscuit when they were playing Truth or Dare…
~ Terry caught a fish! Terry caught a fish!!! - J scaled and gutted fish after Lawwwwrence killed said fish. Grilled it in lemon, onion, garlic butter, rosemary, thyme, salt and pepper… great in theory only…
~ Truth or Dare… DARE!!! Andre, some things I really don’t want to know!!!
~ ummmm… dude… you’re sleeping on my face… (sounded more like… mmrlllddffflsmmfmfmmmflllsss…)
~ BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!! Sooooooooo cold…

Sunday…

J: But they’re going to see me naked.
T: (holding up a towel) They’re across the lake. They can’t see anything… and I’m blocking you from the camp
J: (stripping off wet clothes after impromptu morning swim) Ok, fine… is anyone awake yet? Look, I’m mooning the lake…dum-di-dum…
T: Nope, everyone’s still sleeping… here let me dry your front.
J: Nice try, buddy. Hands off.

~ early morning semi-skinny dipping… wow, that tank top’s got a lot of stretch. Oops.
~ Early morning campfire recipe experimentation. Who knew that you could wrap almost anything in tin foil, throw it into the fire and make it taste good…
~ Lawwwwwwwrence! I caught another frog!!! The mother of all frogs!! Eek! It touched me!!! AHHH!!! (repeat 10 times)
~ Snake? What snake? AHHHH!!!
~ Spider!!! AHHHHH!!! (notice trend…)
~ “I really have to go” “Want me to come with you” “No, that’s a lot of pressure” “Ok… good luck…this should be enough toilet paper…”
~ No, you go first. No, YOU! Fine! I’ll go first *splash* (jumping off 40 ft cliff) *glug*
~ Can you get a closer look at her ass? (Triscuit’s face 2 inches away from G’s caboose…) Babe, I don’t think it was a bee sting regardless of what Plboy said he saw. Sorries… but she’d have way more of a welt than THAT!!
~ girls… never portage a canoe by yourself… that’s what the boys are for!!!
~ 60 lbs going in, 40 lbs coming out… girl, you’ve got to learn to pack lighter than that!!
~ Moose Winooski’s… best time ever. Though, note to self, make sure that Terry sits at his own table… reverse b-day prank. Terry gets Jeannette, Lawwwwrence gets Terry, both get a pie in the face.
~ Ahhh… sweet cottage country traffic…
~ ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…

Friday, August 20

Day 10123 1/2: Scandalous...

scene: Last night in a booth at Cho Won Korean Family Restaurant. Binny and J dining on veggie meals of tofu stew and meatless duk-bok-kee, chopsticks in hand, dueling over one sugared soy bean (mindless of the fact that there's a whole dish of it in front of them). The night's conversation tame in the most part takes a sudden dramatic turn... hush...

Fade in...

Binny: (voice cracks with false emotion) Why are you breaking up with me? *sob* Why, oh God, tell me, WHY...!!!
Me: I'm sorry, darling, it just has to be that way...
B: But why? I LOVE you!!
Me: (sotto drama-dripping voice) I'm sorry, baby... I just don't love you the same way you love me.
B: (voice escalating) There's SOMEONE ELSE isn't there...
Me: I'm sorry, baby... YES...
B: BUT I'M SO GOOD IN BED!!! (other people start to stare)
Me: Yes, but YOUR BROTHER IS SO MUCH BETTER...!!

Fade out... end scene.

Sometimes it scares me what the two of us are capable of doing. IN. PUBLIC.
Day 10123: Haagan-Dazs To Go...

There's nothing better than Vanilla Haagan-Dazs for breakfast... except maybe my french vanilla ice cream. Even though it's made with goat's milk, it totally rocks. Mmmm... craving. I've got to make me another batch of it SOON!

Thursday, August 19

Day 10122 1/2: it'll be a sad, sad day...

The way I'm going, my kids will be named Bombay and Sapphire. Their first words will be drinkie, gin and tonic extra lime or hangover.

Sooo bad in sooo many ways... at least no one's going to be named Beefeater...

:(
Day 10122: WYSIWYG

What you see is what you get. I'm not an enigma, not a mystery. My life is an open book for anyone to read. If I had secrets, would I be blogging? There are some things I hold back on talking about, but really truly, I believe most things are fair game because they happen to me... my life, my story, my thoughts...

Sometimes I don't care who knows what and who doesn't know what. It's hard to keep track, and it doesn't really matter. So what if anyone who reads this knows that I and XYZ are doing 1 or 2 or 3... does anyone really give a flying fuck anyway... particularly if it's about people they don't even know. What the hell difference does it make.

I've had this discussion with a few people over the past few weeks how behaviour can change with group 1 or group 2 and how group 1 can never know about what one does with group 2... can one truly be themselves if they have to censor their actions and behaviours with supposed friends.

That said, I don't like hiding things. I don't like secrets, and I sure as hell don't like double standards. Now get the fuck out of my way. I'm hungover, pissed off as anything and quite frankly in a really rotten mood today.

Wednesday, August 18

Day 10121: Miscue

Grocery shopping today, I passed a sign that said "Cookie Hut." Somehow in my little daydream world I read "Cookie Slut"... just as I was thinking... "damn, what I wouldn't do for a cookie right now..."

Tuesday, August 17

Day 10120: No way, Jose...

A: Just toss all the stuff you haven't touched in four months. You don't need it.
J: Nuh-uh, emotional attachments...
A: Then just put it aside and go through it later.
J: Nope... gonna do it now
A: You're RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!
J: Don't care.
A: Pack rat.
J: Look who's talking


Boxes of treasures from each stage of my life - things I can never part with and will never bring myself around to throw out...

*drum roll please...*

kiddie-hood...
~ wooden cork gun with the chipped and faded red paint and the little cork that doesn't really pop anymore
~ little red fire engine with a crusty yellow plastic ladder... *sigh* firemen
~ 1 Disney Dollar (not as crisp as it used to be)
~ plastic red Santa's boot piggy bank filled to the brim with pennies... there must be a billion dollars in there $$$$
~ ragedy and torn Spiderman comic books - did I ever SAY that I was girlie-girl???
~ a pink rosary from my baptism - I always thought it was the prettiest thing I've ever seen (just to look at, wouldn't know what to do with it otherwise...)
~ my dad's rosary from when he was a but a kiddie
~ a korean mini mask my dad gave me once upon a time

teenie-hood...
~ um... oodles and oodles of pix of my movie star crush. Did you know that they make playing cards too? :D
~ half-filled sketch book after half-filled sketch book
~ my 365 driver's learner permit
~ my driving test results
~ a poem I wrote in OAC about a guy who's wife cheats on him
~ complete set of Upper Deck Blue Jays baseball cards from 1991 - or so the guy claimed when he sold it to me for $5
~ pictures of people I went to high school with, but I haven't talked to in 10 years

semi-adult-hood...
~ first kick ass rubber duckies race id pass
~ a little bottle of sand from happy place #1
~ little white clam shell from Del Mar
~ rock from happy place #3
~ many rocks from happy place #3
~ many rocks from Del Mar
~ dried up purple orchid from V-day
~ more quarter-filled sketch books
~ winnie-the-pooh
~ funky black stone letter opener that Sista bought on some trip once upon a time
~ Sponge Bob Squarepants poster

... and they wonder why it takes me so long to pack... *sigh* I need a drink.

Monday, August 16

Day 10119: Life in a box...

The packing has begun in earnest. Boxes are piled sky high throughout my little house waiting for the little treasures and trinkets deemed worthy to be carried to the next place. I've been immersed in clouds of dust, hacking and coughing my way through the storage closets for two days now and I've barely made a noticeable dent. Instead, I almost managed to bury my cousin under a landslide of well-thumbed, well-loved books that won't be making it downtown with me. I also managed to squish the dog under a mountain of old clothes and linens. I'm surprised I haven't suffered some unfortunate mishap in my sleep.

This is the fourth move in five years... you'd think I'd be used to this by now. So any volunteers? Promise you get first pick of all the goodies I've got to leave behind...

Wednesday, August 11

Day 10114: A bottle of Spumante and a glass of champagne...

I just signed my lease!!!!! WHOOO HOOOO!!! Freedom.

I'm off to Windsor for the next couple of days - catch y'all later...!

Tuesday, August 10

Day 10113: Fluffy pink clouds and other bs...

Last night I dreamt I was preggers. And I didn't know who the father was. I'm not sure which terrified me more... being preggers, not knowing who the father was, or the fact that I was a tornado chaser and was somehow floating in an anti-gravity room when a tornado ripped the ceiling off (but left the roof intact).

Cross your fingers for me, folks, I might have found a new place to crash my sorry little head. No lake view, all amenities, parking, maybe locker... new paint, and new flooring... $1,025 all in. I hope.

And in conclusion... it's much easier to achieve distance when the boy don't email you back no mo'.

Here's to the future... it's gotta be better than this...

Monday, August 9

Day 10112: Dear Uncle…

I wish I could not hate you. I wish I could do something that causes you the same amount of pain and grief that you’ve caused my family over the past few months. I wish I could rewind the clock a few years past and make sure that you never reentered our lives, and what was past was past and that you would never influence our future the way you did. I wish I saw past the smiley, toothy exterior and saw the empty shell of a man beneath the well-dressed-well-mannered fa├žade.

You are a fraud. I wish I never met you.

You swore up and down to my family that you would never hurt us, that you only had our best interests at heart and that you only wanted to love and be loved. You pretended hurt and anger when the family questioned your values and past. We stood by you, supported you and fought for you. We were prepared to defend you to the point of alienating our family, and, we did alienate the family - remember the fights and the rifts that took months to heal. But we were strong and we weathered through it and patched things up ourselves – no thanks to you.

We believed in you even when no one else did. When everyone said to look at your past and that a man’s character lies in his history, we pushed back and said that people could change, and that you were just a victim of circumstance. You deserved a chance at happiness just as much as my mom deserved a chance at happiness. Little did we know that you were circumstance and we were your victims.

We were blinded to you. The missed Christmas mornings because you were too proud to share them with the family – the missed family get-togethers because you THOUGHT the family didn’t accept you for who you were. But do you blame them when you’ve lied to us all along? They were the ones who saw the truth and you wanted to limit exposure to them in case they saw more of the real you.

I’ve never believed that people have one grand purpose in life. Rather, our purpose lies in the people we meet and the people we impact. Positively or negatively, our decisions and actions influence those around us – our families, our friends, our casual acquaintances. I like to think that all the things I’ve imparted on the people around me were positive experiences and that no one has suffered unduly because of a decision that I have made purely out of selfishness… because it makes ME happy, or because it’s MY life, and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it.

There are experiences and people that we treasure throughout our lives. There are good experiences and then there are the experiences that quite frankly, we could have done without. All we can do is learn from them and hope that a similar situation will never occur again and how to deal with it should we be unlucky enough to cross that path.

You can brush this off as angry ramblings of someone without as much life-experience as you. Or you can take to heart what I’ve said. My point is not about love and marriage because I don’t believe that exists anymore. I’ve grown up and lost my girlish idealistic view of the world and see it for the cruel harshness it really is and that people just go around taking what they want and never really giving anything back. The point I make is one of human decency and respect for your fellow beings. In doing what you did, you’ve shown us how little you respect us, and how little you care. You’ve shown how selfish you are and that you can take a freely given love, twist it beyond recognition and throw it back into someone’s face. I no longer have any respect for you whatsoever. You’ve used us and lied to us, made us believe in something that didn’t exist.

The next time you promise someone happy ever after, security, love and respect, think it a hundred times through and then a hundred times more. It’s your choice what you do with your life. It’s not too late to change your ways and find yourself happiness. No matter how much I would love to see you when you’re seventy, alone, probably drunk and miserable because you’ve alienated everyone who has ever loved you; because you’ve never taken the time or the energy to form something lasting and because you never saw a good thing when it stared you in the face. No matter how much I would love to see you fail at everything you do. I wouldn’t and I couldn’t wish that on anyone – not even you.

Instead, I wish you the best and hope you find what you’re looking for. And when you find her I hope she’s smart enough to see you for what you are and that maybe, just maybe, you might deserve another chance and she doesn’t break your heart and spit it back in your face. Karma. What goes around, comes around.

Friday, August 6

Day 10109: 13 hours of sleep later...

Every morning on my way to the subway, I pass by the big Loblaws grocery store down the street. Some days I'm on time, most day's I'm running oh-just-a-tad late... On those rare, rare days I'm on time, I get treated to one of the funniest sights I've ever seen in TO...

The grocery store opens at 8:00. 7:55 (and sometimes even earlier), there are people lined up in front of the half opened gates. Old men, young family-aged women, people with more time to spare than they'd like to admit... Shopping carts in hand, raring to go...

They crouch low over the shopping cart handle like a kid prepping for a bmx race. Glance sideways at the competition out of the corners of their eyes... jostle for the pole position, pushing and shoving until they manage to get the very tip of their shopping cart under the gate...

And all because they want to be the very first customer into Loblaws. The very first person to buy yesterday's leftover unsold already vine ripened tomatoes...

Will wackos never cease to amaze me...

Wednesday, August 4

Day 10107: The Family

Since I can remember, every major event in my life has been precided over by The Family... as in aunts, uncles, and cousins getting together to decide what is the best alternative, and what should be done in each situation. They met when we were deciding what uni I should attend. They met when we decided what uni my sister should attend. They met when the maternal one decided she wanted to remarry. And now, they will meet because I have made my decision not to move home.

I wait with bated breathe for the representatives that will show up at my door in twenty-one minutes. The weight of the gavel is before me. It is time I stand up for what I know is right. They will not be able to sway me. I must be strong. Or I will die trying.

Tuesday, August 3

Day 10106: Revelations…

~ happy place #3 (marine railroad at severn falls) isn’t so happy anymore – it’s become stale, slimey and stagnant with overpowering gas fumes from idling powerboats
~ rain does not make former happy place #3 any happier
~ living in a car is a comfortable, slightly cramped alternative… but definitely better than the Fisherman’s Wharf motel in Meaford
~ make sure you have access to a washroom or port-o-let at 6:30 in the morning when you wake up and you REALLY HAVE TO GO…
~ it is possible to check into a motel for an hour or two to shower, give the dog a bath and check right out
~ you find the weirdest things in the middle of nowhere…
~ happy place #4 has been promoted to happy place #3, and may be a really close tie for happy place #2
~ if someone knocks on your window in the middle of the night, it’s perfectly ok to tell them to “go away, I’m trying to sleep” after which they feel really bad and have little minor guilt trips through the night that you’re sleeping in his driveway when you could be sleeping inside
~ sleeping inside is not a good idea
~ living on the water makes me happy
~ the floorboards squeak, the bedroom door squeaks… the bed squeaks…
~ if you see a sign for a historic site that points you onto a small country road, don’t bother – chances are you’ll drive right by it and never find it, cuz it’s a rock in the middle of some farmer’s field with so little significance that you’ll forget you even tried to look for it
~ the little dinner at Discovery Harbour in Penetanguishene makes really good baklava – the restaurant that starts with a “B” on Beach Blvd in Hamilton does not
~ if you drink all day, chances are, you will drink all night too
~ it’s ok to park at the harbour overnight if you have an RV, but if you just want to sleep in your car, it’s not ok – even if you volunteer to pay for parking there
~ kinsmen does not = KKK
~ the dog does not like to sleep on an air mattress. She also refuses to eat her own food while on vacation
~ you can’t hate happy people just because they’re happy, but you can hate them if they somehow made you sad
~ you can’t trust a real estate agent especially if their price is a good 25% higher than everyone elses
~ emails from your mother are never good
~ a kiddie pool isn’t just for kids… never buy the baby kiddie pool – it won’t fit a real baby