day 10375: fcuk that...

The bad thing about eating a really good smoked salmon ciccio from Mercatto On Bay with insalata tossed with balsamic vinaigrette is that no matter how good it tasted, it'll still taste like that hours later...

Ugh... re-burp smoked salmon... a pack of gum later... still ugh.

day 10374: a lady just came around pushing a cart and handed me a bottle of wine

Before you read on, click on this… Support breast cancer research through drinking… I like that!

(ps… in Ontario, no mailing is necessary. Funds are donated based on sales recorded at the LCBO)

~

…hanging out with the boys…

Yesterday afternoon, Triscuit IM’d me asking about my plans for the weekend and that a bunch of ex-coworkers wanted to get together Saturday night for drinks. Great, I thought, we never go out with his friends… always mine or our common friends. Baby step forward… YES!

But I erred on the side of caution and instead asked him the question, “Are you inviting me or telling me?”

“Telling,” he responded. “I hope you’re ok with that.”

Humph. One step back. I’m sooo not down with that… so not down with that… breathe… breathe… breathe… Why? Is he embarrassed by me? Does he not want to be seen with me? Why am I being so darn insecure with myself? Shades of past-Triscuit float through my mind…

No… it’s just more of a guy thing. They want to sit, drink, talk about the old days, make jokes about women and then drink until they pass out.

Ok, phew… well then, whatever, fine, I guess I’ll find something else to do… and eventually “have fun.”

But it was too late… the wheels in the head had started going ‘round-and-’round. Why did he bother asking if I was ok with it? He’d go drinking with the boys even if I wasn’t ok with it. If I said that I wasn’t ok with it and he ended up not going then he’d be all crankypants with me… and WAS HE ASKING PERMISSION?

Huh? Does he think I was the type of girl would doesn’t want her boy to do anything without him? Because in my mind, that’s just wrong… we don’t have to do everything together… and boy, do I ever feel like a BITCH now! Does he expect me to ask if he’s ok when I do things without him? I don’t ask him. I don’t tell him. I make plans and then see if he wants to tag along…

And so we had a little mini “discussion” via IM.

“It’s all in the way you say it, baby.” I wrote. “If you say, hey… do you have backup plans for Saturday night, cuz I want to go hang out with the boys… then all I’ll say is sure, I’ll find something to do… have fun. But if you ask me if I’m ok with you going somewhere without me, then it sounds like you’re feeling guilty about it, and that there’s something you’re not telling me that makes me wonder why I’m not invited.”

“Maybe I overthought it,” Triscuit typed back. “I just thought if your feelings would be hurt because I wanted to do something on my own or if you’d feel left out. Maybe I won’t think so much next time.”

“Though to be honest… I’m only ok with it because you said it was a guy’s thing… if it wasn’t just hanging-out-with-the-guys I would not be ok with it… cuz then I’d start wondering why again.”

“Completely understandable… “

Take one step forward…

day 10372 1/2: you asked me what i want out of life...

I want this. I want knowing that you love me as much as I love you and that we have a chance at happy ever after.

day 10372: significance in nothing…

Is there a way to meet someone, know someone and not judge them?
Accept them for who they are and move on…

Let their presence flow over you like water and not let them bother you?

In the grand scheme of things, they, like you, are insignificant and unworthy of the time you spend clenching your fists and grinding your teeth, seething at their presence in the very same place that you find comfort and rejuvenation.

Yes, they may be undeserving, but then again, so are you.

From one extreme to the other… forgiveness to unrelenting hatred…

Why?

day 10371: the day in which i take the step towards my new career because last night i dreamt i was fired…

I’ve been having a whole whack of crazy ass dreams these days. In the past weekend, I’ve dreamt of assembling wheelchairs, sanding plaster off the wall, and other weird and wonderful things. Last night’s dream tops the charts though.

I dreamt I was fired. It seemed so realistic, that I woke up in a fit of what-am-I-going-to-do-now panic. In my dream, my boss wasn’t forthcoming about the whole firing issue and ended up hemming and hawing about it in front of an elderly age-spotted-client named “Mr. Love.” Someone from HR walked into the meeting and said something akin to “I guess it’s goodbye then.” And that was it.

I was jobless; canned on the spot and embarrassed beyond belief.

All this happened on a day that a comet was soaring through the sky. My cousin was watching it from a rooftop and I was supposed to join her. Instead, we crashed a party and met Mr. Love (before the firing incident) who somehow developed a soft spot for me. How could he not?

So at the meeting, Mr. Love voiced his outrage and offered to hire me instead. For what job, what position, doing what, I have no clue whatsoever. I could have said yes to being his love slave for all I know. I think he had a resume/technical writing business and I was to be his heir apparent.

All I know is that once I put my pink plaid jacket and laptop bag into the trunk of his really old yellow Mercedes convertible, my alarm went off (again) and I woke up disoriented and thinking that things are going to be changing really soon.

How prophetic.

Seriously though, what bugged me the most… WHY THE HECK COULDN’T I COME UP WITH A BETTER NAME INSTEAD OF “MR. LOVE.”

day 10368: don't hate me because i'm lazy...

Promise me you won't be jealous when I tell you this...

In about half an hour, I'm heading to the spa for a morning of massage, manicure, and pedicure. And when I'm all aglow and tired from being pampered, I'm meeting up with the Maternal One (who I definitely need a new nickname for) and we're going jewellry shopping.

Tonight, Triscuit and I are dressing up just for the heck of it and going to Mildred Pierce for a romantic candlelight dinner for two... courtesy of the bachelorette auction (of course).

day 10365 1/2: good deeds and random ponderings

Is someone trying to punish me? I try to do something good, a tiny act of random kindness. It's not MY day on kitchen duty at monkeyco, so why is it that when I TRY to help someone out, I end up with coffee-water-backsplash all over my work skirt and new nylons.

*sigh*

Maybe I should have emptied the cup before I turned it over in the dishwasher.

~

I thought I was taking a break from all activities. So why is it so hard to schedule my bartending course. It's either conflicting with wedding one, bridal shower for wedding two, bonfire two, my motorcycle course, the airbrush course I finally signed up for, softball or one of my climbing days.

I don't even have any major projects coming up...

I'm tired.

day 10365: …wisps of white

Let’s get this part over with. I’m not Catholic. Baptised, yes. Catholic by choice, no.

That said, I, like the rest of the world, am on tenterhooks, waiting breathlessly to see who the new Pope-elect will be. Every plume of black smoke, every day the bells don’t ring heighten the anticipation.

Who will it be? Will it be a great statesman like the last, or someone ultra-conservative and closed to change within the Church?

I hope for a man who does not want to be Pope, a gentle man, a leader who has proven himself time and time again, but for the sake of the people he will lead and influence, he is a man open to the consideration of change, a statesman like Jean Paul II. I hope for a man who will work to improve life beyond the Church; someone quiet and unassuming who listens and does not rely on his popularity and dynamics to win him the Cardinal votes.

After all, the Papacy is the most powerful position in the world. With it brings great responsibility. Organized religion has done much for the world in the past, but it has also brought in a lot of wrongdoing and harm as well.

As I write, the wisps of white bellowed from the Vatican chimney. The bells have rung. The feeling of change is in the air.

Who will it be?

day 10364: let’s talk all in-tell-ec-tu-al-like… a’ight?

Contrary to popular belief, my life is not all shits-and-giggles, drinkie-poos-and- partying, and bouts of endless weekends spent sunning myself on the beach. I have been known to wax eloquently on a multitude of intellectual topics. I play a mean game of chess, a downright dirty game of Scrabble, and remain unbeatable in all shapes and forms of Connect-4. I can identify Robert Frost’s poetry as it is being quoted to me and can defend the upbringing of the typical CBC, even as I slump outside Ivory’s in a drunken absinthe-induced haze.

Just because I can drink men under the table does not mean I am a complete moronic flake.

But rereading recent past entries, that’s what it seems, doesn’t it. So, message me with a topic we’ll discuss.

I’m ready.

Round one.

*ding*

day 10362: dirty dawg

Think girls dancing on the bar. Think bras hanging from the ceiling fixtures. Think Coyote Ugly.

And then think… man wouldn’t it be a whole heck of a lot of fun working there?

Because that’s exactly what I’m thinking, and that’s exactly what I was thinking the entire time I was dancing on the bar.

I’m thinking I need to rethink not taking the bartending course… this could be entirely too much fun.

day 10361: it’s ok, you just keep living in your own little happy world

A couple of weekends ago, Triscuit and I were spending a very bleary Sunday afternoon recovering from an equally bleary Saturday night. ABBA was playing, doggy cookies were fresh out of the oven, and we were laying one on top of the other in a random pile of people and dog.

Random kisses, absently scratching the dog’s head; we were content as can be listening to music… until I listened to the lyrics and attempted to sing along…

DID YOU KNOW THAT ABBA SONGS ARE SAD?

I didn’t. I also didn’t know that the astronaut in David Bowie’s Space Oddity floated away into outer space. I also didn’t know that Tracy Chapman’s Fast Cars wasn’t a happy song either.

I cried…

No REALLY, I CRIED. Tears weren’t just daintily flowing from the corner of my eyes. I BAWLED…

“Are you crying?”

“Why didn’t you tell me these songs were so sad…” I could barely get the words out… it sounded more like “Whddirtellkgsonwad…” I think I hiccupped.

“You’ve been singing the songs all day…”

“Yeah, but I don’t listen to the words. I just make them up as I go along…”

day 10359: heard & said…

“Because I am just THAT COOL, they should write a BOOK about me. Better yet, they should make a MOVIE. But then I’d be the ONLY person to watch the movie which would really suck because I’ve already lived it and so there will be no suspense and no surprise ending… what kind of sucky-ass movie is that? Ok, I’ll shut up now, and no, I’m not drunk.” Hic.

~

“Is cookie code for booze?”

~

“We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Sleepyhead. They’ll make a game out of us. It’ll bore everyone to death and lull them all into sleepiness… shhh… don’t wake the Sleepyheads… they’re sleepy…”

~

“It’s hard to find the perfect shoes. If only I could buy these boots in shoes and maybe half and inch shorter and maybe in a different colour with a little more flashy-flash, I’d be perfectly happy… Oy… FCUK me… when did I become such a girl?”

“Sometime last year…”

“You should have shot me…”

“Yeah, probably.”

day 10358: IM

So I overreacted. I read the IMs and thought Triscuit wanted to have “the talk.”

[Insert panicky dread hand-wringing here.]

Everyone else thought I was overreacting except for me who really was overreacting but refused to admit it. I hate confrontation with a passion and go to the extremes to avoid it at all possible costs.

I prepped myself for the ultimate worse… and instead, came out of it relatively unscathed with a new pair of earrings (that I love) and a boy who will now call himself my “boyfriend.”

Finally.

Not that I would call him “my boyfriend.” It’s just one of those phrases that feel weird coming off your tongue.

“My boyfriend…”

Hmmm… maybe I could get used to it.

"My boyfried..."

Hmmm... probably not... but does this mean I can tell my grandmother now?

day 10357: Definition for $500 please, Alex

Laughing with the boys about their naked hoo-ha weekend, discussing Montrealers and metrosexuals… Triscuit leans over and asks, “What’s the definition of a metrosexual.”

I whisper back, “BMW…”

“Ahh. I get it.”

day 10355: it's bad enough that it's naked hoo-ha weekend, but did you really have to go awol and make everyone worry?

Babe... promise me that the next time you're supposed to go out of town and don't because you got smashed having "dinner" with your roomie and his cousins, then you tell me or someone who will eventually tell me... don't leave it up to JB and Laaaaaaaaaaawwwrence to call me in a fit of panic the next morning because you were supposed to be there the night before and you still hadn't gotten there by lunchtime the next day.

And if you ever, ever, EVER do that again... at least turn on your cellphone.

I have better things to worry about than whether or not your car went into a ditch.

Sooo not happy about that.

day 10354: it’s your birthday…

I remember feeling you kick inside mom’s stomach, and putting my face down close so I could whisper nothings to you.

I remember the day you were born and being told to stay by the bunnies and fish tanks they used to have in the kids corner at the hospital.

I remember the day they brought you back from the hospital, being all excited when the car pulled up and jumping up and down on the sofa.

I remember holding you close and singing lullabies with words that made no sense.

Happy Birthday, Sista… no matter how many times I wanted to give you away when we were younger, I wouldn’t trade you for the world.

day 10353: sharing is caring

Said the daughter to the mother, "What are you doing right now?"
Said the mother to the daughter, "Pooping."
"Ok, I'll call back later then."
"No, speak. Now's a good time, I've got nothing else to do right now."

day 10352: and all along i thought it was april 10th...

Whoops... well, happy belated anniversary to me two days ago. For what, I'm not saying.

That's all I'm saying.

day 10351: learning to juggle

It was a Saturday afternoon; raining probably, since we were stuck inside. For lack of something better to do, Da proclaimed that it was as good a time as any to learn how to juggle and dug out a can of old, fuzzy tennis balls.

First it was gently tossing the tennis ball from one hand to the other… nothing too spectacularly difficult for the young softball superstar that I was way back when. Two balls, two hands… still nothing spectacular.

“What a cinch! I could do it blind folded.” I tried it and ended up whacking myself in the head.

Two balls, one hand was a lot harder to master. My hands weren’t big enough so I had to downsize to racquet balls… bouncier, and oh-that-much-more-painful when you throw too hard, and look down at the same time…

Three balls damn well nearly killed me.

But I learned how to juggle.

Sometimes it feels like life is a little like learning how to juggle. One thing, one stressor is fine. Two – no big deal – life goes on. Two at the same time… a little harder but still manageable with a few bumps and bruises along the way… but three… whoa… watch out…

… that is until you learn how to deal with it, and then you can start adding more. When it rains, it pours...

day 10350: ugh... 400 litres of mouthwash please?

This made me really sad (knowing that such a substandard level of human being exists)... after it made me gag at the thought...

day 10347: randomisc.

o This weekend I very firmly plan on baking at least 6 dozen doggy cookies just for the heck of it. I’m thinking I’ll start a little business selling cookies out of the Beach House shed this summer.

o Why am I on Papal death watch? I won’t even admit to being Catholic… damn my morbid curiosity. I also sat and watched CNN non-stop the day JFK Jr.’s plane went down.

o Last night, instead of watching a movie, Triscuit and I went to the LCBO. He almost passed out from shock when I told him about the possible strike. He then grabbed a cart and starting filling it with “necessities.” There were a lot of “necessities.”

o Because I only started budgeting on Wednesday, this week I still have $46.45 left in the food budget (until Monday morning). Technically, if I was to count from Monday, I would have $0.32, but I’m giving myself a little leeway in week one. So far so good. Now, too bad about the hockey stick, the taxi ride, the Swiss Chalet delivery last night, and the magazines I bought yesterday. Whoops. Bonus though, all the alcohol I bought last night was on GIFT CERTIFICATES. Whoopie!

o Scary. Monday afternoon 5:15, I had $175 in LCBO gift certificates. Thursday night, 8:15… I had $0.

o One second he’s talking about my lack of an ice cube tray, and the next second, he’s referring to himself as my boyfriend. Hm.

o I’m addicted to grapefruit.