day 10619: too busy living as they call it

On my one night off from family functions and get-togethers, My-Boy-Bacon and I partook in this. Call it morbid curiosity, call it life-long anatomical fascination, call it whatever-you-will… the only thing running through my mind THE ENTIRE TIME …

Who’s broken what... doing what?

day 10618: if you pretend hard enough, it never actually happened

The women in my family are not very good at saying “I’m sorry”.

We tend to fly off the handle at the slightest thing, say things we regret the next day, and then expect everything to blow over by being super nice to each other the next day. Sometimes this backfires… especially when you get reamed out by your mother in the middle of Pacific Mall for something that was entirely unrelated to you.

Yeah, I’m holding a grudge... whaddaya wanna do 'bout it?

day 10617: hope y'all had a fabulous poo-poo-filled christmas

nameless: Is that your phone?
schmassion: What?
nameless: The ringing...
schmassion: No. I'm on a landline.
nameless: oh...I'm pooing.

*click*

~

schmassion: Even the dog is getting into the holiday spirit! She's pooping out red and green!!!
my-boy-bacon: That can't be good... What'd she eat?
schmassion: Don't know, but it's FESTIVE!

ps... My-Boy-Bacon and I are going here in a month... BRRRRR...

day 10608: the meaning of fear

A moment of fear, knee deep in freshly fallen snow, thighs burning, brain surging with thoughts of “why… fcuk it… why,” skis crossing, short breaths, curses under my breath, a twinge of pain and then another. I should not. I would not. But then I did.

There was no way but down. It was too late to turn around. The climb up would hurt just about as much as the run down. Peer pressure. One split second decision after a week of saying “no.” Regrets? Then - yes. Now - maybe. Later – probably not. But much, much later… only time will tell.

It was a surreal moment not too long ago. Ok, crap, it was just over a week ago. The sky was blue, nary a cloud in sight. The occasional bird of prey soared by overhead. The smell of diesel (I’m assuming that snowmobiles run on diesel) was strong, yet somewhat comforting, as was the guttural roar of the vehicle that had come to rescue. An occasional familiar face floated momentarily into view, smiled reassuringly and floated away again.

And me? Flat on my back being pulled down the slopes on a sled. I begged for a lift on the snowmobile. Oh, how I pleaded and bargained to be able to descend with some shred of dignity. But flat on my face, ass up in the air, there was no way in hell they took my entreaty seriously. I tried to make jokes. I tried to laugh. Humour does wonders for the healing the body… or so they say… to no avail.


It was a surprise, the fall. I was coming to a stop, looked uphill for a friend, caught a backedge, fell down and went “Boom!” I thought I was just winded. Things weren’t really in that much pain. The only thing wounded was my pride. That is, until I tried to stand up. Soon afterwards, the only thought running through my head was “Not again, please God, not again… I have to go to Mexico in two months…”

This was supposed to be the year to “go hard or go home.” What’s the worse that I could do to myself that I haven’t already done? Torn rotator cuffs, bruised ribs, sprained ankles, bad knees, broken back… been there done that. Pshaw, I scoff in the face of danger! One week’s rest and I’ll be perfectly fine. No worries, x-rays came back clean. Rest, ice, compress, and elevate… yes, I know… and lots and lots of ibuprofen and muscle relaxants. I know the drill. Like I said, been there, done that.

But I was wrong. Yes, been there, done that, and have always blamed my body for not being able to do what I thought that my mind had wanted to do. First, I was too fat, my body was out of shape, my knees were weak and well, hell, I was just too darned tired all the time. But then I lost the weight, did an extraordinary amount of sit-ups to strengthen my core, my legs and arms were strong, and well, hell, I still couldn’t do it.

My mental game is off. It’s never been on. I very grudgingly admit that I *sigh* am afraid of speed… even on skis (hence, probably the reason for my very limited aspirations to race). Instead of focusing on my ability and gritting my teeth to tackle the slopes, I anticipate the fall. I let the images run over and over inside my head. I can almost feel the weightless sensation in the pit of my stomach. The metallic taste of dread in my mouth, I check my speed and let my fear overrun me.

I am afraid of the pain, and afraid of the repercussions. My body aches, recovery time is longer than it used to be. I don’t want to take the risks that will take me from being a dabbler to being an actual skier or snowboarder. I used to call myself that… a skier… and to a lesser extent, a snowboarder… but I no longer deserve the distinction that either one of those labels afford.

I used to love the snow blowing into my face, the coolness of the air against my teeth, the feeling of being alive and being indestructible. I should be filled with the anticipation and the exhilaration of flying down the snow covered slopes. Instead, my heart pounds, and not in a good way. I am afraid to step beyond my limitations, comfortable only in the familiar.

This is wrong. I should not fear the fear. I should not let my mind play games with me. Same as climbing, my mind blocks me from achieving the next step. I have the ability, but the mental game I play constantly with myself hinders me.

day 10606: when words aren’t enough

My mother’s friend is dying.

She found out only about a month ago and has been undergoing extreme chemo treatments to try to battle the disease that is rapidly killing her. But the treatments that are supposed to help her are killing her. She hasn’t been able to eat, hasn’t been able to keep down the pills she takes to help fight the nausea. She doesn’t even have the energy to undress so that someone can bathe her.

The prognosis isn’t good. It’s down to a matter of months.

But she has courage, and she has hope. So much hope that she hasn’t even told her extended family members for fear that they’d worry needlessly. Other than her immediate family, and her friends that are helping to care for her, no one knows. Her husband and kids are still living the same day-in-day-out rituals - running businesses in Hong Kong, going to work and studying for exams in the UK and Germany. They haven’t even flown home to Toronto to visit.

Perhaps they will at Christmas time.

She’s staying with my mother while she undergoes treatment. The nurse comes over once a day to monitor her IV drips and medication. Otherwise, she’d be home alone, lying in a pool of vomit, suffering in a silence that she doesn’t deserve. And though she is relying on the goodwill of others to help her through this, it took a lot for her to even ask. This is the woman who was fielding donation calls for her charities even on the way to the emergency room. She is one of the most selfless women I know, always going out of her way to make life easier for others. She has a strength of will that I admire.

I wish I was more like her.

I wish I could take the pain away from her. I wish there was more that I could do for her.

But I can barely talk to her. My linguistic ability is somewhat limited, and the words will not come to me. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. I don’t know what I can do to let her know that I care.

I’ve offered my chauffer services to my mother. If ever they need a drive… through rain, through snow, I will be there in a matter of minutes. Apart from that, I don’t know what else to do, except perhaps feel guilty that I’ve been running around relatively healthy tripping from city to city for the pure enjoyment of being young and responsibility free... enjoying my life while others hate their's.

There has to be something more that I can do…

day 10604: so this is christmas?

It will be a year soon since the night we sat talking in the hall when everyone else was dreaming happily about snow. I asked you then if you missed me, and you replied, "All the time. I miss hanging out with you. I miss being close to you. I miss curling up with you, and waking up with my arm all tingly because you slept on it all night."

Sometimes, I still wonder the same.

We embarked an a path of discovery that night. We talked like we had never talked before. The year that we had been together were filled with other things besides talking. We were too busy laughing, and too busy living, but only in the moment, never thinking about the future.

I was happy that we were finally friends again. I was happy that we were finally “us” again.

But it shouldn’t have been that way. Even back then, we should have let things be and gone our separate ways. It would have been easier on my heart, easier on my mind and infinitely better for my soul. The subsequent six months would not have been and I would not have fallen more deeply in love with you. I never thought that I would care that much about a person.

When you broke my heart, you did it gently. You told me that you loved me, but that you weren’t in love with me. You were 95% there, but something was missing and it just didn’t feel right. I tried my best to love for two, but if we were not meant to be, we were not meant to be. I could not make you love me, and had you settled for only 95%, you would not have been true to yourself. I never wanted you to settle.

That night, I begged you to come home with me so that you could hold me one more night. I wouldn’t let you sleep for fear that the morning would come too soon. We made love one last time. You left early the next morning, and I cried one last time, got up, dressed for work, and started living my life without you. I mourned you. I missed you. I still loved you.

I hoped that we could eventually be friends again. You had been my best friend for so long. I didn’t want to lose that, too.

And then I found out the truth. The truth about the bachelor party in Montreal… the drunken night… the “friends” who were cops… and I found out that you had betrayed me. The lies you told me were bitter and they stung. The pain I felt encompassed me and surrounded me with a blanket of hatred. I confronted you, swore at you, and hated you for so long.

You almost killed me when you said, “It’s not like we were married.”

Yet, I still defended you, and to this day, still hide the truth from our friends. I knew that they would judge you harshly, and I didn’t want you to lose them. But you’ve chosen to withdraw from our circle, and for that, I am somewhat grateful. I protected your reputation for so long, because, really, I was still in love with you even though I didn’t like you. Yes, it is possible to love someone you don’t like.

It’s been an eon and a half since that day. I found an inner strength that I didn’t know I possessed. I moved on, and found someone else to love. And yes, I am falling in love with him. He is gentle, he is kind, and best of all, he is the man that you will never be… loyal, honest, compassionate beyond belief. He cares deeply for me, and calls me “Beautiful” everyday. Not a day goes by that I don’t think how lucky I am to have found someone like him. And instead of me thinking that you never deserved me, it’s me thinking that I don’t deserve him.

I still think of you. I will never forget you. I will always care for you, and will probably always miss you, the thoughts, the memories and the experiences that we shared. We parted in a way where we will never be friends. If we ever cross paths again, I’m not sure how I would react, but I hope that my words to you would be “Thank you.”

Thank you for letting me go so that I could have a chance at something better.

There is so much more that I could say, but I will end it here. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you never have any regrets in your life. Be true to who you are, and don’t let people influence you to be something you are not and were never meant to be. Because that was always your greatest downfall… trying to prove to others that you were someone that you were not. Choose your friends wisely. Not everyone has your best interests at heart.

I wish you all the best in life and hope that you eventually find what you’ve been looking for all these years.

Merry Christmas, Triscuit. I’m done with you.

day 10596: nutrition for dummies… part 1

Hypothetically speaking, should you go to the Vitamin Store to buy psyllium husk because you read in the paper that adding fibre to your diet helps with cholesterol and weight maintenance, and the guy recommends very strongly that you don’t because you’re already “regular,” you should probably believe him. He knows what he’s talking about...

day 10595: when you’re upset… I’ll find a way to cheer you up…

Excuse me. I need to talk about my vacation carry forward... I really need it. My sister-in-law's brother's dog-groomer's uncle's mother is getting married next summer and I promised that I would be there.

Where is it? Everest... It'll take me six weeks to hike up that damn thing.

Really, though, we're not even sure the wedding will go forward. After all, my sister-in-law's brother's dog-groomer's uncle's mother is 93 and a 6 week trek up 30,000ft is a little much for her.

She's working up to it though... she's walking around the block everyday.

It only takes her an hour... and a half... on the good days.

One of those san francisco hill blocks?

No… a Pacific Mall block...

day 10594: How do you rock? Let me count the ways...

~ Pre-dinner drunkenness
~ Beer showers
~ Post-dinner drunkenness
~ Surprises
~ Sparkles
~ All-you-can-eat
~ All-I-can-drink
~ All in
~ Vroooooommmmm
~ Bikes
~ Much imbibing
~ Much bling-blinging
~ Much saving of horses and riding of cowboys

Thank you. You guys are wicked.

Giddy-up.

day 10590: not sure whether to be flattered or insulted

I met with some insurance people yesterday (just for kicks). They loved me and thought I'd fit in perfectly with their corporate culture. I thought they were a bunch of your typical introverted accountants/finance geeks.

Apparently, somewhere along the line, I've become one of them.

Damn. I thought I had finally developed a personality.

day 10589 1/2: let’s play a game

It’s easy. Just fill in the blanks:

YOU KNOW YOU’RE GETTING OLD WHEN ______________.

I’ll start.

~ chocolate has become “too sweet.”
~ fried food is “too oily” and you start dabbing at it with a napkin.
~ a Big Mac and fries is “too much” and you’re “ugh… soooo full” from eating half.
~ it no longer makes fiscal sense to go to an all-you-can-eat place because even if you ate all-you-could-eat it would have been cheaper to just order what you wanted in the first place.
~ words like “fiscal” and “responsibility” start working it’s way into your everyday vernacular.
~ the Christmas presents that people ooohhh and aaaahhh over are bowls and wafflemakers and not Transformers ™ and Lego ™.
~ you wake up achy and hurting more days than you don’t.
~ fiber content becomes a key decision making factor when you’re buying granola bars for the homeless guys.
~ your 25 year old boyfriend needs to buy a suit for your office Christmas party because he doesn’t have one.
~ you’d kind of rather just veg at home and watch a chick flick for your b-day than go to a bar and get smashed.
~ it only takes two rounds to get smashed.
~ you don’t even want to think of partying like you used to.
~ the once-upon-a-time looming future is now the not-so-looming present.
~ comparison shopping for toilet paper and canned soup is a FUN thing.
~ the only thing you want for Christmas is an umbrella (a very, very good, and very BIG umbrella, mind you).
~ you realize that by the time your mother was your age, she already had two kids and a house.
~ you start making stupid lists like these instead of writing real posts.

Your turn… humour me…

day 10589: dream on…

Some days I wish I was adopted. Not because I hate my fam (because I absolutely love and adored them and wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world), but more so because I hate certain aspects of my life… what it’s become… where it’s not heading… the kind of shit that you start thinking about whenever you’re about to hit another “milestone” where you’re supposed to have accomplished XYZ, but haven’t started working on X. If I was adopted this would be the perfect time for my birth-parents (actually, a secret godfather would be perfect so I could still keep my amazing fam – no hard feelings, eh?) to swoop down from behind the scenes to take me to a sparkling new penthouse condo overlooking the ocean and set me up with a trust fund that will pay for all my hobbies, and then some, so that I would never have to work again.

All the brouhaha with Monkeyco over the past few months has left me feeling rather uneasy and unsettled about my future. I know future with Monkeyco is somewhat limited seeing as how the reasons why I chose Monkeyco over alternate-Monkeyco never managed to materialize. Things got shuffled around, projects got delayed, I lost my drive and ambition to actually accomplish anything beyond surviving to 5:31… let’s just say that long-term with Monkeyco is definitely not in the cards.

Where would I go? What would I do? My history has made me somewhat uncomfortable in certain situations. My memory for accounting principles is shit. I hardly ever know what I’m doing. My once-upon-a-time encyclopedic knowledge of personal tax is no longer relevant (and of course, my memory has gone to shit). Can you see that I have somewhat of an inferiority complex when it comes to my professional life? Reality is I can hold my own, but truthfully, I am no superstar… no matter how hard I try to convince the recruiters otherwise.

It’s not enough anymore for me to live day-by-day and let things happen as they may. I’m already feeling obsolete, wallowing in self-pity. I’ve lost direction again, and lost any ability to get to where I want to go… but then again, I don’t know where I want to go anymore. I don’t even know where I am. Do I suck it up and go back to public practice, working for one of the Tra-La-La-Big-4 for another few years until my inferiority complex is blanketed (as I succumb to being yet another accountant clone), or do I hope for the best and try not to allow myself to be pigeonholed as a finance geek only capable of doing financial reporting or consolidations? Option 1 would be best for my self-confidence, but, in reality (schmassion-take-two-steps-back) this is when people are leaving the firm… not entering the firm. Would I come out only to be where I am today? Option 2… what the heck is option 2… ?

I’m lost. I’m confused.

I hate the week leading up to birthdays. I hate birthdays. I hate getting old.

Fcuk me. I'm almost thirty.

AND. I. STILL. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I. WANT. TO. BE. WHEN. I. GROW. UP.

day 10583(?): lost in translation

Apparently your’s-truly-dimwit-here has lost her mind and miscalculated the days-of-our-lives… again. So it’s like I’ve traveled back in time and relived day 10583. I’ve done what countless centuries of scientists have been unable to do and figured out the space-time continuum. Yay me. I rock.

Now someone tell me where I misplaced the gloves I bought last Thursday (and lost on Saturday)… there’s only so much my genius brain can handle.

day 10583: some days i’m just not all there

It’s obvious that I don’t have enough on my mind when I can sit for a long time contemplating the possibility of taking off my underwear without taking off my pants and boots.

Because you never know when you might need to. Yeah…

day 10582: bowling schmowling

It’s funny how your imagination can take off with the simple phrase… “I wonder if they make high heel bowling boots.”

One second you're talking bowling... next second, your boy's in drag.

day 10581: ma chere ami

Par chance, mon ami when you called the first time, it really was a wrong number. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, told you ever-so-nicely that you had erroneously called me instead of your amie, and politely sent you on your merry-yet-clueless way.

Perhaps you didn’t understand what I was saying. English, we both know, is not your native tongue. But you sounded so jovial and well, hell, anyone can make a mistake, so I forgave you. I put you out of my mind. I do that with wrong numbers. I didn’t even think of you after I hung up.

When you called me again, I was the epitome of patience. I told you again that the number you dialed was incorrect. There was no such person at this number. You apologized. Again, I politely sent you on your merry-yet-clueless way.

Somewhere along the line, it must have happened. Please don’t blame me, mon ami. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. I have a boy that I really, really like, and if he should find out about this, I really wouldn’t know what he would do. I really don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know what to say to you.

You see, mon ami, somewhere along the line, you must have fallen in love with me. How else do you explain the “wrong numbers” and the “hang ups?” Admit it, you just want to hear the sound of my voice. I question this; the shrill sound of an irritated me repeatedly saying “Hello? Hello?” must get annoying after a while. You must really love me, otherwise, why would you listen to me saying “Who is this?” a few hundred thousand times before you hang up on me.

Be brave, mon ami, and freely admit your love. There is no harm in telling me. At least this way, it will be out in the open, and we can deal with this head on. We can face this issue and deal with the future (albeit definitely NOT together). That way when you call me every few minutes only to hang up or to tell me that “this isn’t my number” I can say something other than “Hello? Who IS this?” Honey, I know this isn’t your number. It’s MY number. And you’re using it a little too freely… I know I have an amazing phone plan, but, Sweetie, you’re still eating up my daytime minutes.

Please stop calling. I know I have the choice not to pick up when I see your number flash before me on my caller ID, but I’ve always been one to hate calling my voicemail, especially when I know who it is. I really don’t want to listen to endless minutes of you asking for your amie – you’re just teasing me then.

I know I’ve broken your heart, but I never want to hear from you again. You’ll just have to come to terms with the fact that we are but two souls destined to be apart forever. We shared a second (or a FEW seconds), but we can never be together. Be strong, mon ami. Be strong and put the phone back down.

Don't worry about me. I'll cope somehow.

Yours never,

Schmassion

(ps. Before you jump to any conclusions, I really am a reasonably good conversationalist. I can hold my own in almost every subject-matter. Well, except maybe nuclear physics, thermodynamics, and oh, Canadian politics (who in the heck wants to read up on THAT?). But that really is beside the point. PLEASE. STOP. CALLING.)

day 10578: past lives

I was not a nice kid. I mean, I was a nice kid, but not a nice kid.

Get what I mean? No?

I was a kid who was polite, respectful and every adult’s favourite, but I was a bit of a toughie on other kids. I’m not going to use the word bully, because I was never malicious or violently physical with any thoughts of personal gain. My “playful personality” could be interpreted as a little harsher than the sweet and innocent girl that you’d have expected if you had seen me back then.

I was a bit of a tomboy, and it showed in my personality.

I was a bit naïve as to socially accepted norms, and it showed in my personality.

I was a bit naïve about boys, and it showed in my personality.

I’m not excusing myself. I still harbour all sorts of guilt, and if I could find the children of my past, I’d fully apologize for acting like a fcuking jerk/idiot/bully (you fill in the blank).

Consider this a blanket apology. I’m sorry… wherever you are…

day 10577: once more for good measure

Tonight is the last football game. Thank god. I'm tired.

What I wouldn't give for one day to do nothing but sit in a bubblebath, and then by the fireplace all day.

day 10574: more incredibly fantastic travel tips by a mainlander

4. what to do-do-doo…hm… part two…

Stargaze. Starlight, star bright, first hundred stars I see tonight… oops… I meant thousand. Mauna Kea (at just over 13,000 ft above sea level) has got to be one of the best places in the world to stargaze. All the lights on the Big Island are a dingy orange so that all the observatories on top of this mountain can have clear unobstructed views of the heavens above. And, because of the proximity to the equator, we could see the stars in the northern hemisphere and the southern hemisphere. Mars on our right, and Venus on our left… of course Venus was brighter, and much more sparkly. If you rent a car… go with the 4x4. It snows up on Mauna Kea.


Snorkel. Yeah, I know I already talked about it. Don’t save it for your last day. You’ll kinda regret not doing a lot more of it. Looking at fish while you’re swimming in a crater with the fishes… it’s like being in a giant aquarium owned by aliens. Turtles, dolphins, flying fish, sharks… oh my. (Gotta save something to see during my next visit!)

Hilo. Skip it. It rains a lot. Base out of Kona if you’re on the Big Island, rent a car and meet up with your lava touring adventure group somewhere else. Trust me on this one. There’s really not much to do there except going to the farmer’s market, which btw is not open on Veteran’s Day. “I never liked the rain ‘til I walked in it with you.”

Buy a vacation home on Maui. I’ll be your BFF. I promise…

5. wildlife

“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag…” Ok, don’t feed the birds. Nene are some goose-type bird that’s supposedly highly endangered. It’s no wonder… given that they just walk around the mountain roads aimlessly and get run over by the lemming tourists. Why did the birdie cross the road? It didn’t… it just sat there. According to Posie, all birds are nene. Dumb birds.

Deer. No joke. There are actually deer crossing signs in Wailea. Apparently, someone (a whaler, trader, adventurer?) brought over five deer for some king way back when. Well, these deer were really prolific, and now Maui has over 5,000 of those things that randomly jump out on roads just to surprise people. Boo!

Cows. Watch out for the cattle guards on the road. Cattle guards are weird metal grates that go from one side of the narrow winding road to the other. I have no idea how they’re supposed to guard cattle, but it’s a weird sensation to drive over… especially if you’re going pretty fast. Yeah, there are cows wandering the roads too. I don’t think Maui has fences. Oh, and beware the invisible cow.

Midges. Some type of flying bug that dies when it lands on your car (I’m not sure why). It’s pretty gross when you get back from the beach and your car is covered with thousands of them. Thank goodness it only happened once. Ew. *shudder*

Sharks. Apparently, you only have to worry about the tiger sharks. Hammerheads and reef sharks will swim up to you when you’re kiteboarding or surfing and all you have to do is punch it and it’ll go away. They only feed at dusk and dawn. You don’t usually have to worry about sharks unless the water is cloudy and there’s little visibility or you’re doing something stupid like swimming through chum or swimming where a bunch of sharks are feeding off a dead whale. I say just avoid them altogether and don’t believe everything that you hear from your kiteboarding instructor who is trying to placate you after your anxiety attack brought on by your close encounter with a shark (ok, so it might have been a rock… who knows…).

Locals. Most are friendly to strangers and they don’t bite. At least, I don’t think they do, except maybe into your bank account. Give them a friendly “Aloha” and go on your merry way. Most of the time, they’ve already pegged you for a tourist so they’re all set to fleece you anyway.


TIP… TIP… TIP… (remember this if nothing else)… locals get DISCOUNTS on EVERYTHING (as high as 50%)... if you tan really nicely on your first couple of days there, and you tell them you’re from Oahu or some other island, and they actually believe that you’re a local without ID’g you, you’re golden. Billabong, Roxy, Quiksilver for 50% off MSRP… wicked. Apparently, I look like a local. But no, we didn’t try this. They just assumed… must be the hair… and the billions of tan lines… wicked cool…

6. all that and a bag of chips…

Photos. Take lots of pictures. A hundred pictures of the same thing (from a slightly different angle) is probably good enough to start (hence, bring the extra memory sticks or portable hard drive). Don’t forget to look up once in a while so that you’re not run over by a car, or you don’t drive over the edge of a cliff (photoing and driving don’t really mix). Don’t be afraid to climb up on things to take pictures if you’re too short to see over the heads of the other lemming tourists. Old white men don’t like it when a girl is standing on six foot high lava rock walls, and will offer endlessly to help her down (even if she is a climber). Then again, sometimes climbing up on things doesn’t necessarily give you a better picture… it just lets you see what’s going on because you weren’t aggressive enough to push to the front of the line. Game time: find Posie in this sea of lemming tourists…


ps… learn how to use your camera before you get there… thus avoiding… “How can I take a picture of those stars?” and “Damn, these pictures look washed out!” and “Argh! Why is my horizon always slanted?” Most often times, though, it’s not the camera. It’s you.

Lemming tourists. Finally… the definition… There is a phenomenon called Lemming Tourist Syndrome. This is when you’re driving along and you see a bunch of cars pulled over to the side of the road with tourists taking pictures of some unknown object, so you stop your car, get out so that you can see what you would have missed if you hadn’t seen the bunch of cars on the side of the road. Just because you didn’t want to miss anything. (FYI, this term was coined by someone else in relation to lemmings that hurl themselves over a cliff just because the one in front does it.) Chances are, you’re not really missing all that much. Yes, we were guilty of it too, but we caused our own fair share of it as well. ;)

7. "did you know that in hawai'i, aloha means hello and goodbye"

Yo, I don’t know what else to say. There are a billion stories and a trillion details. It was a fab trip and I'm glad I went with such a wicked, awesome, cool travel buddy. I have a ton of pics that I have yet to weed through, maybe someday I’ll post a little more.


Aloha.

day 10573: how to (or not to) do hawai'i (aka travel tips by a mainlander)

1. what to (or not to)bring

Sunscreen - BRING. From a person who now has a billion tan lines, I can't emphasize this enough. It isn't becoming to have a v-shaped tan line from the day you forgot while hiking Haleakala, one from your bikini, one from your tank top, one from your shorts, one from your surf shorts, one from your socks, one from your sandals... oh, and one from your bling. And it's not enough just to bring it. Wear it. I forgot... ouch crispy! For great aftercare, use Hawaiian Blend Aloe After Sun Lotion. This stuff is amazing. Instead of lobster red, I'm golden brown... different shades of course. Dumb tan lines...

Beach mats - DON'T BRING. It's a waste of luggage space. There's always going to be a K-mart, Walmart or Costco. Find one. Buy mats there and toss them when you're done. It's $1.99. Chump change. Just think of all the shopping I could have done had I more luggage space.

Camelback - BRING. It comes in handy on the many death marches that you'll be doing while hiking the lava flows or to the cinder cones. The sun is hot in Hawai'i. It's even hotter when you're hiking across miles and miles of rugged (SHARP!)black lava rock with steam venting at you, no shade... and actual molten lava under the rocks you're walking on. Red, burnt, crispy, puffy face pictures (from sun, heat,and dehydration) do not make for good pictures... especially if the adventure group you went with took pictures of you for their website. You'll just look hot, and not in the sexy kind of way.


Memory sticks for your digicam - BRING. You'll be taking a million pictures of the sunrise, sunset, water, beach etc. Guaranteed. It sucks if you run out of memory, and you'll get ripped off by a shop that sells duds on Fisherman's Wharf (San Fran...) and have to buy a new one. Luckily, it's cheaper in Maui. Consider bringing a portable hard drive. Between Posie and myself, we took more than a gig of pictures. That's a lot of pictures.

2. getting there

Fly. Unless you want to go by boat. But that will take a very, very, very long time. The Pacific Ocean doesn't look that big on a map, but trust me on this one... it's BIG.

Once there, rent a car. In Maui, try to get a 4x4 if you plan on driving the road to Hana. Sure, it's a little more expensive, but you'll feel much, much better when you're trying to navigate the winding, narrow roads with single lane bridges and blind corners. That way, if you feel "adventurous" enough to drive the 5 miles of gravel on the road from Hana (the one that the tour books tell you not to do... i.e. the one that the rental company technically forbids you from doing) which, btw, has the same winding, narrow roads with single lane bridges and blind corners... you won't slide out when making sharp turns because you're driving fast because you want to keep up with the car in front of you. And you do want to keep up with the car in front of you. Especially in late afternoon when the sun is setting, because with the sun in your eyes, and the dust from the road, you're lucky if you can see the tail lights of the car in front; nevermind a car that's coming towards you on the narrow road with the single lane bridges. Get the 4x4. We were ghetto and didn't have one. I think I might take up rally car racing as my next hobby. Fun.

3. staying there

Stay here. I love Mike. Mike is a lot of fun. Mike is great. Mike got up at 4:30am to pack hot coffee and fresh scones for us to take with us to watch the sunrise on Haleakala. Without Mike (and his hot coffee), I don't think I would have survived the drive and the cold to see this (I swear this is not photoshopped)...


Note, Mike's is a little out of the way for most other places. It's half way up the mountain to Haleakala, so bonus, we only had to drive an hour to see the sunrise instead of two hours like all the other lemming tourists.

4. what to do-do-doo...hm

Beach. White sand, black sand, red sand, grainy sand, no sand... there are a heck of a lot of beaches in Maui. Some of them are really nice. Some of them not so nice. Some places say they have a beach and they really don't. Shame on them. You'll find beaches everywhere where you least expect them - even in the store that sells everything gecko.


Hike. Walking around in scorching heat is no fun. Walking around in scorching heat with no shade in sight and in high altitudes is no fun. Bring a lot of water, some gatorade, a couple of energy bars, a pair of good shoes that you won't be able to wear again once you melt them on hot lava rock, and you're set to go. It's a tough little stroll sometimes (hence, aka death march) and definitely not a walk in the park (although, technically, you are walking, and you are in a park... hm). But be strong and suck it up. It's well worth the effort when you get to see what's inside this cinder cone... you'll have to hike it to find out.


While hiking, be sure to pay attention to the trail and your surroundings. It's no fun "skiing" down calf deep sand because you took the path less travelled... Oh, and bring a rainjacket (and hiking boots) for the hikes off the Road to Hana. Apparently rain is normal in a rainforest, and more rain makes the waterfalls more "picturesque" and less trickle-y. Who knew?

Surf, snorkel, blah, blah blah. I don't surf. There are sharks in the ocean. Did I mention my aversion to being eaten by a shark? I only tried snorkeling for the first time today. Apparently, someone from our boat charter saw a shark this morning while we were in the water... snorkeling. While I was in the water... snorkeling. Guess who's not a happy camper... I think I would have freaked completely if I saw it. Never mind my mind playing tricks on me while I was doing this... (it COULD have been a rock that touched me, but I swear I was in too deep for rocks)


Note. That is NOT me. I'm not that good. Not even close. I just get dragged behind the kite. Literally. And no, I'm not about to post a picture of me drowning as the waves crash over my head. No way, no how.

Rally car race. Just joking. Road to Hana. 'Nuff said.

Luau. It's cool. It's entertaining. Poi tastes really bad (no, it doesn't help if you eat it with paniolo steak, guava glazed chicken, or even banana bread... I tried all the combinations... it just tastes really bad), kalua pig is overrated, but mmm... hula boys... very niiice. Very much a hokey tourist trap, but hey, it's nice to walk in and (almost) instantly handed a mai-tai and then being lei'd. Did I say mmmm... hula boys... ALOHA!

... to be continued...

Aloha. Time for bed. More travel tips tomorrow...

day 10569: aloha

I'm in the middle of a rainforest on Hawai'i... there's a volcano somewhere behind me... an ocean somewhere in front of me. It's a rough, rough life I'm leading. I'm jealous and I'm here.

Early morning drives up winding scary dormant Haleakala to see an unreal sunrise. Death march through volcanic landslides to see the inside of a cinder cone. Near death experiences on the Road to Hana. Brush with death with SHARKS while kiteboarding...

So many stories, so many pictures. I promise to post as soon as I find a USB cable... and another internet connection. Hopefully, hopefully, the pictures will be able to do justice.

Aloha babes. :)

day 10564: dan the man from the ham

Dan the Man is in the music industry. Dan the Man is from the Ham. Dan the Man is into surfing… which was the line Dan the Man used when Dan the Man tried to pick me up in a Safeway. He gave me his business card. I kid you not, it says “Dan the Man.” So, if anyone in the SF Bay area needs a piano-singer songwriter that plays the synth-keyboard and is available for lounge grooves, special events, private parties, national anthems, and concerts… um… let me know. If it does anything for you, he rides a “bike”… um… ok, so really, it’s a scooter… and apparently, I’ve become a snob.

[ed note: WHAT ARE LOUNGE GROOVES?]

day 10563: i think i got issues…

You know the saying… ”there’s a sucker born every minute.” I think I’m the sucker for my minute and am still not convinced that I wasn’t scammed this afternoon.

It all started yesterday when I decided to get my artistic butt in gear and start figuring out how to use my camera. Yes, it IS one of those idiot-proof digi-cams, but hey, I’m a techron, remember? …technological moron… ? me and technology… we don’t mix. Actually, me and cameras have been bad news together ever since I left my dad’s old Minolta in a bathroom at a pit stop in Germany. That was a sad, sad day in Schmassion history. Schmassion famille has yet to recover but that’s another story I’ll save for a more depressing day. Anyway, with f-stops, apertures, white balance etc etc confusing the crap out of me, I ended up filling up my first 128mb memory card with things that while I don’t necessarily think they’re all that great, I loathe to delete them. Ah, San Francisco…

Need I remind you that my vaca has only just begun? I still have nearly two weeks of pictures to take and the glorious vistas of paradise Hawaii beckon a heck of a lot stronger.

So off I went in search of more memory… to… are you ready for this... Fisherman’s Wharf.

I.

Am.

The.

Genius…

… who goes to tourist spots to shop. (I will bend over now so someone can fcuk me up the ass.) “Really, how stupid can you get?” you must be thinking. Well. Duh. Pretty stupid, apparently. Actually, the price for the memory card was not too bad. Cheaper than Canada but probably a little high for the US, I wasn’t desperate enough to shop around and comparison shop for a $5 differential. I know I could have done better, but hey, opportunity cost… I was already running a wee bit late for dinner. Mmmm… Souffle…

It wasn’t until the salesperson asked to see my camera that the trouble began. Oh, and I mustn’t forget the small talk...

‘Where are you going? Hawaii? Oh, beautiful… you’ll have a lot of fun there… you know, you have a good camera here. You should consider getting a new lens for your camera…”

Stop. Right. Here.

Or, at least I should have.

Instead, I let him prattle on and on about how my Hawaii pictures would be oh-so-much better if I only had a wider lens, and oh, look how this lens can take macro pictures too. Didn’t want to take good quality scenery pictures in Hawaii? It’s a trip of a lifetime…

So I bought it… on impulse. I bought the memory stick and bought the darned lens for a combined low, low price of $189 plus tax.

I have yet to take a single picture with it… Kinda thinking that I was scammed… kinda… sorta…

~

hmmmms…

~ There are a heck of a lot of hills in this city… it’s not really old people friendly, is it?

~ “You get what you want out of it, if you put more of yourself into it…” I thought he was talking about sightseeing. He was talking about God. I was confused.

~ I found fish tacos. They were ok.

~ Strawberry margaritas for lunch is a good thing.

~ There are a heck of a lot of hills in this city…

~ There is a Starbucks on every corner when you’re not in dire need of caffeine, but when you actively go hunting for a Starbucks, they all go into hiding.

~ The Bushman only appears when you’re NOT looking for him.

~ Day two in San Fran… and I think I know the streets better than the Sista does.

~ Is it strange that I was extremely disappointed when I went to FAO Schwartz and found out that it had closed down?

~ There are a heck of a lot of hills in this city… maybe I should take a bus tomorrow instead of hoofing it from one end to another… Financial District to Union Square to Chinatown to Washington Square to Coit Tower to Lombard Street to Fort Mason to Fisherman’s Wharf back to Financial District…

day 10562: san francisco bay

I met the Bushman. Ok. So I didn't really meet him, just got freaked out of my mind by him. He made me spill my chai for the second time today when he jumped out at me from behind his "bush"... hence the Bushman.

Note to self... must learn not to be startled so easily...

The best part of being on vacation is not having to actually do anything. I can go sightseeing if I feel like it. But heck, if I just feel like lounging around in my underwear all day typing out God-knows-what while staring out to a fantastic view of some part of San Francisco, well, I could just do that too. I’m free, even of the obligation to “make the most of my time.” Sightseeing, schmightseeing…

At the moment, I don’t feel like doing anything. I’m relaxing after a long day of walking around town and hiking up the hills. My belly is full after a day of pigging out on obligatory San Franciscan foods. I’ve done the vegan burritos, the “best” hamburgers in the world, the obligatory clam chowder, and a really nice strawberry, lemon and sugar crepe to top it off. It won’t take a psychic to tell me that this trip will be bad for my waistline.

It’s been a long day, but I don’t feel like sleeping. No agenda, no plans means that tomorrow will bring what tomorrow brings. The only thing I want to accomplish sometime on this trip is to search out some really good Mexican food. Toronto, multicultural though it may be, is definitely lacking in a semi-decent fish taco. What I wouldn’t give for a good fish taco. Hm, a stop at In-N-Out may be in order as well… just for old times sake, ya know. I think my closet foodie-ness might be reemerging (except for the In-N-Out bit).

Do-do-doo… hm… what to do… what to see?

day 10561: leaving on a jet plane

Off to San Fran and Hawaii for a couple of weeks... check back in a bit. Will try to update... maybe...


... leaving on a jet plane... 

day 10560: dear chickie

Fcuk. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written and probably will ever write. Hell… even after I write this, I don’t know if I’ll send it to you. It is harshly worded, not very pretty, but hopefully, my message will come across and you’ll take to heart what I say.

Let me preface this by saying that while I know that we’ve had our differences over the past year, and while our friendship has suffered as a result, this letter does not stem from any ill-will, misplaced anger, resentment etc or anything else that anyone might project upon it. Rather, I’ve sat back for the past few months, kept my mouth shut, and just observed, hoping that you’d be the one to realize that the choices that you’ve been making are not necessarily the right ones and that changes need to be made. I don’t like confrontation. I tend to leave it to other people, but soft words and quiet suggestions don’t seem to be enough in this situation. I didn’t want to be the bitch. I still don’t want to be the bitch. But things need to be said, and because for some fcuked up reason, I still care about your general well-being, I have one thing to say…

Drinking and driving don’t mix.

I’m not saying that you have a drinking problem. Far be it for me to say something like that. I really couldn’t care less how much you drink. Hell, you could drink until you pass out, and it doesn’t really matter to me… as long as I don’t have to be the one to hold your hair back when you’re puking your guts out all over the bathroom… as long as I don’t have to be the one paying a foot long bar tab… as long as you don’t confront me at yet another bar… AS LONG AS YOU DON’T INTEND ON DRIVING HOME AFTERWARDS… you can drink as much as you want and I really don’t give a flying fcuk.

But the second you put your hand in your purse to pull out your keys, that’s when I get worried. You see, you, my friend, are little. One drink for a 100lb female in one hour will put them at a 0.026% blood alcohol percentage. Two drinks in an hour at 0.067%. Three drinks in an hour at 0.107%... legal limit is 0.08%. Three drinks over two hours puts a 100lb female at 0.092% which is OVER the legal limit. You don’t even weigh 100lb. And when you factor in things like physical health (yes, fitter is better), and the fact that you drank those drinks on a completely empty stomach so the absorption rate of the alcohol into your blood stream was not slowed… do you see what I’m getting at here?

(fyi: the effect of alcohol is the same for a bottle of beer, a glass of wine, or a 1.5 oz glass of spirits)

You can argue until you’re blue in the face that you feel fine, or that you have a high tolerance and therefore are capable of driving, but it won’t change my stance on things. Your body can only eliminate 15 mg of alcohol per 100mL of blood per hour. Tolerance doesn’t change your blood alcohol percentage. Tolerance just means that you’re a slightly better actress than anyone thinks, and that you’re able to mask the signs of intoxication. Of course, it doesn’t help that you act increasingly “goofy” with every sip you take whether or not you actually are intoxicated. I’m sorry, girl, but if you act intoxicated, we actually think you are intoxicated. It’s simple.

Did you know that there have been cases where someone’s been charged with DUI the NEXT MORNING because they thought that they had slept it off, but they really hadn’t? Alcohol and its effects can be deceiving.

Part of drinking is knowing yourself – your physical limitations, your judgment capabilities and being responsible for who you are and what you do. When you think about it, legal limits actually don’t make a difference in the big picture. Really, any slight intoxication while driving should be a no-no. I hate to say this, but if you’re not the world’s best driver when sober, what makes you think that you’ll be able to drive when you’re not? What makes any of us think that we have the right to drive when we’re anything but sober? Driving is a privilege that many of us are guilty of abusing.

Friday night, you were probably ok to drive by the time you wanted to leave. Had you not gotten so defensive and started arguing illogically about how everyone else has been drunk at one point or another and how you’ve never been drunk to the point of passing out or puking, I probably would have agreed that you were fine to go. But you couldn’t understand that the situations weren’t the same and that where the rest of us have drank to the point of passing out or puking we have never, ever intended to drive. Most of us, if we know that we plan on drinking will leave our cars at home or arrange for rides… even if it means a $40 cab ride. Yes. I have paid $40 for a taxi before and I would do it again. There is always an alternative to driving, even if it means staying over, or someone driving you home and someone else following with your car. And yes, these options were all being discussed when you and Posie were sitting on the couch.

We’ve all had to make the same decision, and sometimes maybe we haven’t made the right ones either. There are times when I know I’m not over the legal limit, but I know that I probably shouldn’t have driven. There are times when I think I’m stone cold sober, but I’m really not and thank God I didn’t drive on those occasions. I’ve seen you go out with the intent on getting buzzed and then want to drive home afterwards. I’ve seen you do shots with us on top of having drinks with dinner and still drive home afterwards. Friday night, I saw you sitting by yourself giggling to yourself hysterically while running a remote control car back and forth between two chair legs. I can only judge by observation, and that was what we were all doing the other night. Waiting an additional half an hour should not have made such a big difference. We insisted for your own protection and for the sake of the other people on the road. We did not insist on it because we wanted the pleasure of your company (grumpy you is no fun) or because we wanted to prove a point. We definitely did not want to fight with you about it.

I sound like a parent. I don’t want to be condescending. I don’t want to be the one to lay down the law and say that I’m going to take away your keys and shove it into my underwear if you insist on driving. I like to party just as much as anyone else, if not more. The difference is that I know how to do it responsibly and when not to do it. I learned the hard way. I drove once when I obviously shouldn’t have, and I risked not only myself, but someone else I care very much about as well. But I, too, was working on emotion, and somehow managed to fool everyone into thinking that I was ok. Nothing happened that night, and for that I will be eternally grateful, but the thought of what could have happened will stay in my mind forever.

Know this. Life is about action and being responsible for your own actions. You have to understand the consequences of everything you do. What if you got into an accident? What if you didn’t die, and you were only paralyzed for life? What if you hit a pedestrian and killed someone? What if you hit another car and killed a child? Could you live with yourself then? Is it worth it to leave that extra 30 minutes earlier?

I know I run the risk of alienating you because of what I’ve written. But it’s a trade off I think is worth it if you even contemplate what I’ve said. Ultimately, the decision is up to you what you chose to do you with your life, but I know that had we not stopped you on Friday, and if we don’t continue to try to stop you, we wouldn’t be able to call ourselves your friends. And should something ever happen to you, and we didn’t try to stop you, many of us would have a very difficult time dealing with it.

Think about it. Life is too short as it is to do something so stupid. It’s time to stop being selfish and start thinking about everyone else in the world instead of just yourself.

day 10555: blub glub...

...glub... 

fly the ocean in a silver plane
see the jungle when it's wet with rain
just remember till you're home again
you belong to me ~ lifehouse

day 10554: forgive me…

What would you do,
If you could read my mind?
Think all the thoughts that I do?
Would you still be my friend,
Could you take me as I am?
Or second guess my actions, too?

Why is it more difficult to forgive myself as opposed to forgiving someone else? Even if the situation was not of my making, why is it that all my thoughts and actions run through my mind. Something said, something done... something silly, something stupid… things other people have already forgotten.

I accuse myself of stupidity; stupidity in my thoughts and the things that come out of my mouth. But really, the stupidity comes in not being able to forgive myself… and thus not being able to forget. I must exorcise my mind’s demons. I cannot let this ruin me.

day 10553 ½: *blush*

“Who’s Bacon?”
“Friend…”
“You mean special friend. See how she smiles when you say his name? Bacon… Bacon…”
“Oh my God, you’re right… Bacon… Bacon… Bacon…”
“Ok guys, stop already!”

*pause*

“Bacon.”
“Stop.”

*slightly longer pause*

“Bacon.”

day 10553: scummed…

As a rule, I don’t like spending money buying things unless it’s absolutely necessary and would much rather suck it up and spend money on going out with friends or doing something else instead. That’s why my snowboard boots for the past three years have been hand-me-downs from beloved cousin Bo, my winter jacket fits XL and I’m still fiddling around with my minidisk player from a pre-Ipod era (yeah, yeah… I know… woe is me… I’ve gotten over it, so should you.).

The great thing about bonus week is that all the little necessities that need replacing can finally be replaced without so much a glint of guilt. I finally bought a pair of great Solomon Ivy boots for only $150 (no more black toes… yay!) and yesterday I finally, finally replaced my 21 month old cell phone with a brighter and better model.

Now, before you go off on a tangent thinking “what the heck is that girl thinking? It’s less than 2 years old… Spending $350 on a cell phone… she must be made of money… why didn’t she just get a free phone from *service provider not to be named*!! Ai-ya… such a waste of money,” think about this instead: my Panasonic G52 (which I absolutely loved, btw… so small… so compact… so girlie-girl cute) was about a month shy of death’s door. A month. At most. The connection between the screen and whatever the heck it was supposed to be connected to was not connecting properly. Fuzzy lines, hazy screens, no backlight… and to top it off… the phone was possessed by a demon that would turn it off in the MIDDLE of calls. Fantastic. I put it off as much as humanly possible (note self-justification going on here). It was time to retire the old girl.

Now think about this…

My key criteria with phones is that they be small and have good battery life… reception quality notwithstanding, of course. Of all the phones that *sucky service provider* actually offer, only one really matches the criteria and it isn’t cheap… $349 with a $100 rebate IF I sign a THREE year commitment and then they charge me a $35 administration fee to “process my hardware upgrade.” Yeah right. Do the math. I really get only a $65 discount for a three year contract. No way. For an additional $23 dollars, I bought a PacMall unlocked phone; free and clear of any weird and wonderful red tape commitments. Of course this phone might only last 21months, but at the rate I’m going, hey who knows what I’ll be doing in two years time… maybe I’ll move to Hawaii and be a burger flipper somewhere.

I’m a wee bit commitment phobic… can you tell?

Oh, and the new phone. It’s black. I couldn't wait for the pink one.

day 10552: the next seven days

Ok, so if the boy tells me to “be good” while he’s away in Montreal and Ottawa this week, am I really expected to sit here twiddling my thumbs? Cuz twiddling the thumbs… it ain’t so fun. The only thing running through my head is “PARTY TIME! Call the boys. Break out the boozies!! Someone call for pizza.”

But then I remember that I’m supposed to “be good” this week anyway because I have a hideously skimpy bikini that I’m supposed to be looking amazing in next week while I’m sunning myself on a beach. In Hawaii.

So, sorry to disappoint, but the only thing I’ll be doing this week is gym, gym and more gym, not boys, boys and more boys…

Hawaii… countdown… starting now…

day 10549: the little things

remembering them…

Cabbie: Sorry Miss, do you have anything smaller? I don’t have any change.
Schmassion: No. Only this $20. Let me dig around… no… nothing…
Cabbie: Don’t worry about it then, Miss.
Schmassion: That’s not right… just keep the $20.
Cabbie: It’s ok. Someone else will give me a $5.
Schmassion: That’s not right… here…
Cabbie: No Miss… you have a nice day…

~

Timmy Ho girl: See what this nice lady gave me? She tipped me a whole dollar…

sweating them…

Today’s massive email:

“Trust is a BIG, BIG issue for me. I take trust and commitment very seriously. My number one pet peeve is people saying that they will do something and then not doing it. Yes, I have discontinued friendships because of it, or have seriously affected friendships because of it. Some have recovered. Some have not and never will. If I say that I will do something, I will do everything I can to do it. Only in the utmost of circumstances do I back down from something. Again, I give to people what I would expect back from them. I learned a long time ago that if I am not a person of my word, then I am nothing. What is a person if he/she cannot be trusted? So if I make a commitment, I keep my commitment. That’s why I continue playing football every week even though I don’t really like it.

I understand completely where you are coming from and while I agree with many of your points (and facts), I also learned a long time ago that not everyone is like me. If I continue to set my expectations too high, I will constantly be disappointed by people. Not everyone lives to the same standards that I hold myself to. Not everyone can because this world does not exist in an absolute state of being and not everyone has the same values and morals as I do. But does that necessarily decrease the level of trust I have in them… no. I trust different people for different things. I would trust some people with my life, but I would never trust them with a secret. I would trust some people with a life-changing secret, but never trust them with my life or my physical well-being.

This world is full of shades of grey. Not everything is black and white. If you hold everything as an absolute, even the people closest to you will disappoint you from time to time. I’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff and only make an issue of it if it is a really big deal. Even though I try hard to hold myself to my principles and standards, I’ve dropped the ball on a ton of things, usually on really big things, and that mostly impact my immediate family (i.e. the people that matter the most). And even so, no matter how many times I’ve disappointed them, they find it in their hearts to forgive me. That is the true meaning of love and friendship. I can tell you now that at one point or another, I will drop the ball on you. I won’t mean to, and I won’t like it, but it will happen. I’m not perfect, and neither are you. If you expect me to be, as a condition of our friendship, then I’m sorry, but I will disappoint you.”

day 10547: mmm... motorcycles...

... mmm... bike... 

day 10546: meeting the ‘rents

I blame it all on a drunken hazy night a couple of weeks ago. I don’t remember when. We had bantered back and forth about meeting the parents etc etc, but there were no plans… no commitments… nothing would happen unless I was certain that I was ready to meet the ‘rents. I wasn’t ready. I was drunk. I said yes.

I dreaded meeting parents. I’m not very good at it. Be it someone I’m dating or one of my friend’s parents, it always feels awkward and uncertain in the beginning. Will they like me? Am I good enough for their child? What the heck do people really think about me? Do I make a good first impression? I’d ace it if it was a job interview. Parents, on the other hand, completely absolutely terrify me.

I have no idea where my fear comes from. Maybe from the spit-and-polish-stand-up-straight a la Sound of Music style dating back to my early childhood years. Just joking… no… not really. First impressions were always a big deal in my family. You are nothing if your reputation isn’t good enough.

But I had committed and I had to follow through. Granted, it helped that I actually really met them for the first time last week when we stopped by to pick up the roasting pan, but here was THREE hours of Q&A over DINNER… AHHHHHH RUNNNNN!!!!

*insert panic and hand-wringing here*

Of course, My-boy-Bacon, being the perfect sweetheart that he is, decides to send me this.

Ouch! Family dinners Schmassion style is nothing like that. There’s no plate passing, or polite conversation or anything… food gets thrown into the middle of the table, and it’s a virtual free for all. You scoop what you want, you scoop for others what you don’t want. Ok, it’s not that bad. But FORMAL FAMILY DINNERS? (In case you’re too lazy to click on the link and watch the thrilling 10 minute how-to on the perfect family dinner… there is no joke at the end… it really is about Father coming home to a perfect family and perfect Mother cooking dinner for the perfect kids.)

*insert more panic and hand-wringing here*

Sunday afternoon, I get back from an awesome afternoon of riding (mmmm… motorcycles), and OMFG I have NOTHING TO WEAR!!!

”Um Babe. I hate to go all girlie-girl on you… but… um… I don’t know what to wear…”

“Do you have jeans?”

“Yes.”

“That's a good start. Do you have a t-shirt?”

“Yes. But they all say something…”

“Do you have a t-shirt that’s not obscene?”

“Yes. But I can’t wear those… They’re too… me-me-me…”

Clothes were scattered all over the bed. I ended up wearing a work dress shirt with jeans, a blazer and the boots that I went riding in. We bought a bottle of wine. I panicked. Stopped by my ‘rents place to pick up more goodies. I panicked.

But we ending up having a grand fabulous time at dinner… with… his… parents… didn't panick.

And afterwards… the all important text message…

BTW… the family approves…

Wicked. :)

day 10543: doghouse

Here’s the scoop on the maternal unit. She tends to overreact about things. Not just little overreactions, but big, BIG overreactions…

She hated it when I got my hair highlighted in first year university. I was nineteen. She didn’t talk to me for a week.

She hated it when my sister got her belly button pierced. She was twenty-one.

She hated it when I got dawg... she didn’t talk to me for a month. Fun times.

She absolutely hated it when I moved downtown last summer instead of to her house… I’m still feeling the repercussions of that one.

Over the years, we’ve learned how deal with her overreactions. Quite simply (and I’m not advocating this method, by any means...), we just don’t tell her things unless it’s absolutely necessary. Or we tell her scaled down versions of the truth (i.e. my bartending courses and Smart-Serve license was an “industry knowledge” course, etc. etc.).

What she doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her. What she does know hurts us.

I’m not a confrontational person. I don’t like dealing with things until absolutely necessary. Hence, to save myself heartache (and earache) I never told her about the motorcycle course. Nor have I told her about wanting to purchase a motorcycle with the full intention of riding it as much as possible.

Long story short… she found out today. Shit hit the fan, and now I’m in the doghouse. And as usual, I will ride it out in typical stoic styles. Time usually heals everything... I wonder how long it will last this time.

day 10539: oh. my. god.

It started off innocently. And went downhill quickly.

Googling for Thanksgiving recipes turned into Googling for how-to's on deboning turkeys.

Googling for how-to's on deboning turkeys turned into Googling for turducken recipes.

Googling for turducken recipes turned Thanksgiving into one huge gong show...

and one big ass bird...

actually...

three birds...

a chicken stuffed inside...

a duck...

stuffed inside a turkey...


... a helluva huge turkey... and duck... and chicken... 

It was hell to shop for... (Thanks bunches babe!)

I met the 'rents a week earlier than anticipated (yes, I panicked)...

Woke up at 8:00 Monday morning and cooked until 6:00...

But it was worth it.


... with all the fixings...

Thirty stuffed and satisfied people lolling around Thanksgiving evening...

Life don't get any better than that.

Hope you had a good one too... :)

ps... pix courtesy of digital di because I was too busy running around like a chicken with my head cut off...

pps... I wish I had a picture of the SEVEN pies that we ended up with... there was almost as much dessert as there was dinner...

day 10535: some things you just can’t make up…

she-who-will-not-be-named: gaaaaah!
she-who-will-not-be-named: so first i broke the tampon
she-who-will-not-be-named: so i had to try & fix it by stuffing back into the applicator
she-who-will-not-be-named: then cuz i was standing there so long
she-who-will-not-be-named: and there's toilet water on the bathroom floor (which there ALWAYS is)
schmassion: standing? ew
she-who-will-not-be-named: now my pants are wet!!!!!
schmassion: gross...
she-who-will-not-be-named: it's easier for me to stand up....
schmassion: ok... whatever works for you...
she-who-will-not-be-named: clearly it doesn't
schmassion: poor chickie...
she-who-will-not-be-named: i wanna go home
schmassion: go then...
she-who-will-not-be-named: my tummy hurts
schmassion: say you're not feeling well and leave
she-who-will-not-be-named: can't
she-who-will-not-be-named: i - EW!
she-who-will-not-be-named: i just felt the wetness of the pants again
schmassion: gross...
she-who-will-not-be-named: EWEWEWEWEWEW
schmassion: :(
she-who-will-not-be-named: this is so bloggable
she-who-will-not-be-named: except you're not allowed to
schmassion: oh yeah... you can't believe how hard i'm trying not to...
she-who-will-not-be-named: hahahaha
she-who-will-not-be-named: well, you can
she-who-will-not-be-named: if you do not refer to me AT ALL
schmassion: crappers... i don't have a history of our conversation... i'm going to have to paraphrase...
she-who-will-not-be-named: yes, just paraphrase
schmassion: with lots of "gahhhhhh's and ewwwww's"
she-who-will-not-be-named: hahahaha
schmassion: oh god... this is going to be hilarious!!!
she-who-will-not-be-named: oh no....
she-who-will-not-be-named: don't even say it's a friend
she-who-will-not-be-named: say it's a female acquaintance
she-who-will-not-be-named: so it could be a coworker
schmassion: as if a male acquaintance would be asking me
she-who-will-not-be-named: hmmm....
she-who-will-not-be-named: you know just in case
schmassion: of what? sexual ambiguity?
she-who-will-not-be-named: no
she-who-will-not-be-named: just in case you say it's a friend and people think it's me
schmassion: ahhh... cuz i just grossed myself out thinking how a guy could use a tampon.
she-who-will-not-be-named: EW
schmassion: exactly.

day 10532: awwww… fcuk it… my life is an open book anyway

Me and my big mouth always get me in trouble… In telling My-Boy-Bacon about DigitalDi’s pic of me from this weekend’s bachelorette party, I let it slip that I have this blog. Whoops. Oops. Ouch. Somehow, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. And while I’m not sure he’s going to find this, somehow, I suspect he will… after all, if the King of Google found turd twisters, he can find anything…

Anyway… more about the bachelorette party...

Bachelorette parties in all honesty are really, really, really tame compared to bachelor parties. There are no naked ding-dongs, no visits to the whorehouse, no strippers, teasers, or strange drunken house guests to wake up to. All there is a lot of food, maybe a well-oiled six pack here or there (if you’re lucky), a couple of raunchy presents, special cupcakes, and depending on the bride-to-be, hopefully a lot of drinking.

Maybe I’m getting old. Or maybe I like to be in the company of men (no offense girls), but the all-girl bachelorette thing… yeah… that doesn’t really do it for me. While it’s fun to go traipsing all over downtown looking for a club that we actually don’t feel like we’re robbing the cradle of, I think I’m getting tired of the scene. The last couple of months have been wedding purgatory (never hell)… back-to-back bachelorette parties, wedding showers, bridal parties, house-warming parties, jack and jills, and topper of all – two weddings in one weekend…

It’s been a tiring couple of months. I’m completely broke from doling out spa packages and lingerie. And I’ve come to the decision that hell… if I ever get married… I’m eloping…

day 10527: …and that’s when my stomach went *clunk* and my heart went *thump* and the boy went *humph*

Feeling like this again... so much to say, so much to write about… so little time... so how about a teaser of all the things I could have written about that I don't have time to write about...

~ My-boy-Bacon...

~ My-boy-Bacon... 's friend (*wave* yes, I know you're reading this, and no, I don't really like it, but I can't stop you) checks out this site, so I have to watch what I say about My-boy-Bacon...

~ My-boy-Bacon... gives me stomach butterflies...

~ My-boy-Bacon... called himself my boyfriend...

~ My-boy-Bacon... 's parents know about me...

~ My-boy-Bacon... 's parents wanted to invite me over for Thanksgiving Dinner...

~ My-boy-Bacon... and I have only "had a thing going" for a couple of weeks...

~ My-boy-Bacon... gave me a slight panic attack yesterday, but I'm okay today... cuz I'm still liking My-boy-Bacon...

I'd write more, but Monkeyco, you’re sucking the life out of me…

day 10521: sometimes i wonder...

Why do I bother? Just because I signed up for football doesn't mean I have to play every single game. This commitment thingy-ma-bobby is a little too much.

It's POURING rain and I'm playing a game I don't really like... did I mention it was POURING RAIN?? OUTDOORS??!!

I could be climbing tonight. I haven't climbed in TWO WEEKS!

I could've had FREE tickets for BOX SEATS at the LEAFS vs. CANADIANS game...

I COULD BE HAVING DINNER WITH MY-BOY-BACON!!

...this is either extreme dedication or extreme stupidity... I'm thinking more stupidity.

day 10520: holy shit, batman!

A link my boy, Bacon, just sent me. At the moment I'm alternating between giggling hysterically to myself in my cubicle and being slightly grossed out... especially since he sent it with the message, "I wanna make a bat-turd!"

My boy, Bacon, it appears, has the same juvenile sense of humour that I do. I'm thinking I'm liking him.

day 10519: another two second quickie...

Remember these?

It just occurred to me (as I sit here sucking and licking on one), that whoever named these must have an absurd sense of humour.

Yes, yes... I know... get my mind out of the gutter...

day 10518: two second quickie...

How am I supposed to take my auditor seriously if she has a Hello Kitty screensaver?

You're supposed to be a professional for goodness sakes!

day 10515: incredibly low standards (aka it doesn’t take much to make me happy

When Da used to go on business trips or out to the bar with his worker-buds, he’d always bring something home for me and the Sista. Nothing big, nothing special… but whatever it was, it always made me happy when he emptied out his pockets of the goodie-du-jour.

Goodie-du-jour… i.e. mints, coasters and used swizzle sticks… and yes, I still have some somewhere…

Like I said... it really doesn't take much to make me happy.

day 10514: it only took me 28 ½ years to figure out that my knees can sweat

She said that it would be hot. Someone else told me to be prepared to sweat. I don’t think I took either of them as seriously as I should have.

I thought I was going to have heat stroke and die. Hot can’t even adequately describe how it felt in the room. Had someone asked me, I would have described it as a breath-taking-lung-scorching-heart-roasting experience. Even breathing was painful despite me positioning myself close to the window so that I could mooch off any cool air that might have been leaking through the cracks.

I wasn’t that lucky.

I sucked back more than a litre of water in the one and half hours I was cooking. My towel was soaked. My clothes were soaked. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the baby-blue cord shorts that turned a disgustingly damp dingy grey. Even the tank I was wearing was dripping by the time we were done.

How gross.

But it’s not going to stop me from going again. This could be fun, and if not, well, at least there's been some pretty funny emails floating around...

From: Schmassion
To: Smartie
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

hot yoga was hot... i thought i was going to get heat stroke and die.

:)


From: Smartie
To: Schmassion
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

I’m gonna join you for yoga sometime if that’s cool with you (no pun intended) – we should schedule something…


From: Schmassion
To: Smartie
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

i don't have a schedule, cuz i'm so booked up all the other days. i was thinking maybe saturday mornings or early weekday mornings...


From: Smartie
To: Schmassion
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

I could do the 6:30am one!


From: Schmassion
To: Smartie
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

sigh... i could try to do the 6:30am one... you'd have to come over and literally put me out of bed though...


From: Smartie
To: Schmassion
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

I could just roll over whisper in your ear.


From: Schmassion
To: Smartie
Subject: Re: Hey sweetie!

and if that WAS the case... you think we'd be getting up to go to yoga? ;)

*sigh*

day 10513: and these were supposed to be special cookies

...reason 342,702,391,361 why i would never make a good housewife... 

day 10512: i must be missing something…

Why does it take 16,000 AirMiles to fly from here to here, when it only takes 4,600 AirMiles to fly from here?

Something is strange… n’est ce pas?

On another travel note, AC is offering unlimited flights over 2 months for $7,000… how much do you have to fly to make it worthwhile?

day 10511: introducing baconboy… ta-da…

He has a love of all things pork. He is pun-ny. He is funny, and his shirts smell really nice… because they’re laundered with TWO Bounce sheets…

He is BaconBoy, because to call him by the first nickname that popped into my head would be way too obvious. And, well, sometimes I just don’t feel like being obvious.

I think I’ve already said too much... ;)

day 10508: why are you forcing me to relive the pain?

I’ve put it behind me, and I’m trying to move on with my life. I’d really rather not relive the past. It doesn’t matter how I know what I know. But fact is fact. If someone is “man enough” to do something, he better be “man enough” to face the consequences.

I don't know anything about anyone else. Nor do I want to. I don't know who told other people about the situation between Triscuit and myself, but as far as I'm concerned it is between the two of us, and I don't want anyone else to go through what I've been going through. IF anyone goes through something similar, it will not be because of something that I've said.

Please don't make this a bigger deal than it already is.

If ANYONE is going through this blog looking for hints or clues… GET THE FCUK OUT OF HERE. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE. FCUK OFF.

Thank you... and have a nice day.

day 10507: psssttt...

I have a date tomorrow... :)

day 10506: deep in thought

... 

day 10505: i’m sorry...

Forgive me. I don’t understand.

It’s hard enough in this world to find someone who loves you as much as you love them, so why is it that some people insist on getting in the way. Love is not easy. Two people loving each other and staying together is not easy. So why make it even harder?

They deserve to be together. Fcuk the Romeo and Juliet crap.

Be strong. We're all behind you on this...

I'll drive the get-away car...

day 10502: gotta love your friends...

... especially when they smack the forehead of the guy you're with, because kissing at the bar is just "too tacky."

day 10501: whoops, wrong number...

If the person ordering lunch called the wrong restaurant so that when we go to the restaurant to pick up lunch it's not there, and the first restaurant decides to send the food to the other restaurant by taxi... who should pay for the cab fare?

Have a good long weekend, boys and girls. I'm off to Timbuktu for a couple of days... back in a few.

day 10500: something wonderful

Something wonderful was supposed to happen today.

Something wonderful did happen today... I realized that something wonderful will happen tomorrow.

I'm finally free.

... the sun'll come out tomorrow...  

day 10497: keeping my head up...

So I’m officially a biker chick. I rode a motorcycle for the first time in my life Saturday morning, and now, I have my license… or most of it. Technically, I’m still in license limbo. I passed the riding test and qualified for my M2, but because I had a little bit of a timing issue with my written test, I still have to wait another 53 days until I can ride at night and on the highways. No big deal… not sure I really want to anyway.

It was intimidating, but not nearly as nerve racking as I had initially anticipated. The instructors were good (mostly) and patient (mostly) and took a good amount of time explaining MOST of the essentials we needed to know in order to ride a bike. I say “most” because I’m not the most mechanically inclined person in the world. I barely know how to drive standard on a car, talk about relating that knowledge to a motorcycle. Clutch, shift, throttle, friction point… what the heck? It took a bit to absorb everything, but towards the end of day one, I was slaloming with the best of them.

Day two, though, was a completely different story. Everything I learned the day before was forgotten. First thing I did was jump the clutch and skid off into “on-coming traffic”. Confidence shaken, I managed to regain control of my bike and ride through the rest of the morning relatively unscathed. By lunchtime, I had gotten the hang of it (mostly) and by mid-afternoon, passed the test with nearly flying colours.

I’m told that I’m a good rider, especially for someone who’s never been on a bike before… not even as a passenger. I found out afterwards that the 20 year old biker gang wannabes were talking about me, and how they all thought that I’d been riding for a while and if a chick could do it, then gosh-darn-golly they had to do it as well. Backwards compliment from a bunch of kids, sweet.

The bikes are calling to me. Everytime someone drives by, I stare after it in lustful jealousy. I can’t wait to ride again, but first… must win the lottery so I can afford a bike… and my leathers… pink… no… blue… no… black… argh…

Until then, I can only keep dreaming and working on keeping my head up looking where I want to go…

Vroom.

day 10495: stepping outside the comfort zone

...push... 

Horoscope for the day... how fitting...

"Keep yourself on your toes by diving into a challenge headfirst -- especially a self-imposed challenge. Always been afraid of the high dive? Then it's time to sign up for those diving lessons. Public speaking always have you tongue-tied? Volunteer to speak at a local career day or give a presentation. You'll find that walking straight up to your fear not only vanquishes it, but stimulates your brain in new and exciting ways."

day 10493: if you could read my mind, love…

Some days are better than others. Today is just not one of them. I’m losing direction in my life, and I want to run from what I have now. Take flight, and leave it all behind so that I can regenerate my thoughts and my heart in silence, and not worry about turning around the corner and bumping into my past...

Because it’s everywhere… and I can’t get away from it…

day 10492: indisputable proof on how instant messaging has led to the degradation of the engrish language

splash!!: KFC handy wipes smell like a bad chinese restaurant bathroom.
splash!!: :(
I’m a bad foster parent: ew… your hands smell like poo! :P
splash!!: worse… like old pee and fake lemons!
I’m a bad foster parent: I think poo smells worse
splash!!: old pee reeks…
I’m a bad foster parent: i wouldn't know, i flush before it gets old
splash!!: if it's yellow, let it mellow... j/k... chinese bathroom smell is old pee smell... and cheap cleanser.
I’m a bad foster parent: true nuff. cuz the toilets aren't hooked up to actual plumbing, it's just a hole in the ground under the seat!
splash!!: yo, that's just gross!!
splash!!: I am so blogging this...

day 10491: smile like you mean it

Ah, but what is life if you can’t squander it doing absolutely useless things that may one day come back to haunt you… or maybe even kill you…

A few years back, one of my cousins commented on feeling like she had to make up for lost time. She started doing everything that year – dragonboat, hockey, snowboarding – everything she ever wanted to do, but never had the chance (or the inclination) when she was younger. Follower that I am, I scoffed at her, saying that she had the rest of her life to try new things, but I went along and did everything too… dragonboat, hockey, snowboard… things I wanted to do when I was younger and either stopped doing it for some insane reason, or never really got the chance… you know, dutiful asian girl that I was.

Fast forward a couple of years. I’m at the age she was when she made the comment; actually, maybe even a little older. I’ve lived a lot over the past three years. I’ve tried a lot of things… developed some new habits, got rid of some old mental baggage. My friends are completely different, some new, some old… but all helping contribute to this delinquency that I call life.

I am living… I am experiencing… I am doing things for the sake of trying new things.

I am running out of time.

I feel how my cousin felt three years ago. I feel like I have to do everything possible, experience everything in order to make up for lost time. There are so many things that I have never tried… more than I can even comprehend… and I have to do it all…

“I’ve got to do everything before I turn 30… then I’ll have to start popping out the kids.”

“I’m doing everything possible that’s even remotely got the chance of killing me… I have to live life now…”

“It’s all about the thrill. I have do the things that make me happy… not everyone can afford to throw down $7,000 on electronics, you know…”

So tonight, I’m taking step one thousand ninety three in the journey of being me, and crossing off another thing on my to-do list… motorcycle lessons…

I’m finally going to become a biker chick.