day 10738: it's a sign...

Either I'm getting old, or I'm an alcoholic.

I think I woke up drunk, and I just became hungover.

Just joking. I have a headache because my auditors are pissing me off.

day 10737: stop the presses…

Imagine my surprise this morning when I opened my inbox, clicked on a seemingly harmless email forward about a beach party, and discovered that Triscuit and BC are getting married.

Triscuit? Married? WTF? Is this a joke?

To say it was a shock would be a complete underestimation of how I felt. It felt like someone gut punched me, ran me over with a dump truck, and then threw my battered body off the Empire State Building. My voice quivered, tears rolled. Thoughts of any kind were near impossible.

I completely lost it.

Then the phone calls and the support emails came rolling in… everyone also in shock, but also caring about how I was reacting to the news.

I’m blessed with wonderful friends. Thank you.

It's been a busy day, but I've done a lot of thinking. I'm fine with Triscuit getting married. I'm over him, and I don't really care. I feel sorry for him, and I feel sorry for his fiancee (both for different reasons), but other than that, I don't really care either way.

What I don't like, however, is how I found out. I don't appreciate having to find out through an email forward with a message that said, "Holy Shit, you going to this?"

Truthfully, I wasn't invited. Nor would I have expected him to invite me. I would not have gone anyway.

But, there is something to be said for tact. There's always a better way of phrasing things. And to me, the shock of finding out that way hurt a lot more.

day 10735: well meaning, but very misguided “friends” who really only want to ride in the limo

-----Original Message-----
From: Misguided [mailto:misguided@yahoo.com]
Sent: Friday, April 14, 2006 2:15 PM
To: matchmakertv@hotmail.com
CC: Misguided#2
Subject: Dear MatchMaker

Our friend Schmassion is a beatiful asian woman who right now stuck in a rut. She's dated several guys and none of them has really worked out. She thinks most men are intimidated by her active lifestyle, whether it's playing hard(rock climbing/snowboard) or partying hard(she's an accountant, enough said).

My friend Misguided#2 and I think we can pick the right guy for her. She rather hesitant about letting two male friends pick, but since she gone through all our friends, we thought we try some strangers off the street. Is there an application form you could send me? I have pictures and all revelant info.

Thanks.

My response… WTF?!!!!!!!!! Strangers off the street???!!! No way, no how. Thank goodness they stopped filming MatchMaker.

Oh, and FYI, I DID NOT go through all their friends!!! ... only two...

day 10734: lol…

I’m not sure what’s cuter. The fact that the Maternal One is dating, or that she goes into the bathroom when he calls so I won’t overhear what she’s talking about.

day 10730: bod mod

It’s pink and it’s sparkly, and it didn’t hurt at all.

I like it.

day 10729: dear grandmother

My dearest grandmother,

You do realize that it’s only been a few weeks (i.e. 2 ½ weeks, but who’s counting) that I’ve been single. I don’t know how you knew before I told you, but you knew nonetheless…even though, of course, you pretended not to. Apparently, the family grapevine is alive and kicking. I’m just not supposed to know about it.

Within days, you, with your AGING, SINGLE, PROFESSIONAL, ASIAN grandchild, have already reached out to your little network of equally desperate grandparents all of whom are dying to set up their own AGING, SINGLE, PROFESSIONAL, ASIAN grandchildren. (notice a trend here?) You’ve got everyone all riled up. The aunties and the uncles are on the hunt, rifling through their rolodexes (ok, Palm Pilots), making phone call after phone call, inquiring about the status of Son #1, or Son #2.

How’s Son#1? He broke up with his white girlfriend? Oh, how sad… she was a tramp anyway. WHAT? He’s looking to get married to an ASIAN girl now? His optometrist brother is SINGLE TOO? That’s FANTASTIC… *buzz buzz buzz*

And then I get the phone call.

Would I be open to a casual meet and greet? Dim sum on Sunday? No pressure, I can meet him as a friend... WHAT? He’s got a brother too? What the hell? HELL NO I WON’T GO! Let me live. Let me find myself. Let me enjoy my singledom for a while before I have to start worrying about whether NewBoy would be willing to sleep in the same bed as my dog. You’ve already arranged it? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! You can’t do this to me!!! Cancel. Cancel. Cancel.

I, honestly, don’t know how you do it… and so fast, too. You must have broken a speed record. Or maybe you have their numbers programmed into your phone. Just in case things didn’t work out with Bacon. I’ve got a sneaky little suspicion that you started the process even BEFORE Bacon and I split. That’s a little evil.

Yes, grandmother, I know “companionship” is really important. I love “companionship.” Yes, I’m missing it, and no, I’m not getting any younger. Please, let’s call it what it really is. Sex. I realize that you care very deeply for me, and you just want to see me happy (and having sex). I know you want to find me a nice boy to take care of me. But I can take care of myself, grandmother. I do it quite well and live rather nicely, if I do say so myself. I make a lot of money for doing the little work that I do. I support myself… even though my condo is the size of a shoebox and I live paycheque to paycheque. Ok, so I'm not having any sex, but who said I could have my cake and eat it too.

Grandmother, I’m begging you. Please let me enjoy it for a little while at least before you put in the SOS to every single asian family in this city with an unattached son who is a doctor, dentist, pharmacist or engineer. I love you lots, but look what happened last time you set me up.

He was shorter than me.

He stalked me.

Need I say more?

Ps. What I really want to know… remember that boy who drove us to the airport after the wedding in New Jersey last summer? How the heck did you think that I gave him my number (i.e. having only been broken up with Triscuit for two weeks)? (It was Sista, btw, not me) And how the heck did you arrange for HIS PARENTS to come up from NEW JERSEY this past weekend and for me to BE THERE when they WALKED IN THE DOOR. That was really sneaky. You’re good, grandmother, really good. I respect that.

day 10727: conspiracy theory

What is it with married people or soon to be married people where they think that everyone has to be married to be happy?

I don’t get it. Do they get brainwashed by aliens as soon as they buy the ring? Is it the magical, mystical power of the almighty diamond? Because when you think about it, two months salary is a heck of a whole lot of cash. I’d rather buy a motorcycle. But then I’d be afraid to ride it just in case I crash my “symbol of undying love”… and then died.

I’m a romantic at heart. I really am. I’d love nothing more than to find the man of my dreams, my one and only. But seriously, apart from financial reasons, is there really a reason to get married?

Sometimes I’m not so sure.

day 10725: just when you think things couldn't get any worse

My harddrive blew. I just lost the past four years of my life...

Damnit... I should have backed things up.

day 10723: basic economics

It crazy how much money you save when you stop eating.

day 10722: three little words

All day, I kept having the undeniable urge to pick up the phone, and say three very special words.

Go. Fuck. Yourself.

Dumbass monkeyco... whaddaya want from me?

day 10721: on the other side of fear lies freedom

I am afraid…
…afraid of falling…
…afraid of crashing…
…afraid that I’ll wake up one day and find myself 50, and alone…
…afraid of pain…
…afraid of hurt…
…afraid of what happens if I don’t die…
…afraid that I’ll never find the person who will complete me…
…afraid of trusting…
…afraid of betrayal…
…afraid no one wants me…
…afraid of saying too much…
…afraid of saying too little…
…afraid that I’ve already let too many opportunities slip by me…
…afraid of a future that I can’t see clearly…
…afraid to stay…
…afraid to leave…
…afraid of insecurity…
…afraid that I’ve lost me…

…afraid to be me…

What are you afraid of?

day 10715: stoic silence

I lied. I’m sorry. I’ve lied to everyone who's asked me how I’m doing. I say I’m fine, I’ll survive this, and it’s no big deal, everyone goes through this. I’m not fine. Sometimes, yes, most times even, but not all the time. And it IS a big deal. It would be unfair to Bacon for me to actually believe otherwise.

There are moments when I come close to picking up the phone, or close to typing out a message… a lot of moments. Occasionally, it’s more than just wondering how he’s doing, what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, or wondering about things left unsaid. But these moments pass, because I force them to.

I have to.

Some call it strength. They write to me telling me how strong a woman I am. I’m not, really. They don’t see my hands shake, or the tears that well up in my eyes out of the blue. It’s not strength. It’s a coping mechanism. If other people believe I’m fine, they’ll stop asking, and then I’ll stop answering, and I’ll stop thinking about things. Then I can move on.

And I have to move on so that someday we can be friends again. Hopefully soon. Bacon is very special (not in a short-bus kind of way) and definitely someone that I very much want to keep in my life.

day 10714: a whisper of wishful thinking

Some days I’m just chugging along, going with the flow, trying not to think of the immense list of could-haves-and-would-haves, until a random sentence, a quick flick of the mouse, and a post or two obviously not meant for me catches my eye and draws me into it’s spiral. Then I realize that my problems are really not unique and that it’s something that everyone goes through and it makes me feel a wee bit better.

It’s funny that I think of things in terms of days, and not months or years. Perhaps, it’s that every day is a new beginning, and despite me really hating it when people say that something is what you make it out to be, it’s true. Every day is what you make it out to be, and what I don’t want to be is miserable anymore.

It helps that I’m not pms’g anymore. If anyone ever tells you that there is no such thing as pms, and that it’s just a woman’s excuse for being bitchy… don’t believe him… hell hath no fury like a woman pms’g. It really is a night and day difference.

It feels funny, but I’m smiling again... or at least trying to.

day 10713: déjà vu

It’s hard to pinpoint when things actually start going wrong. Looking back, it’s never that things are wrong; it’s more that things aren’t right. It’s harder trying to figure out what will make it right…and then even more so trying to actually do it.

Unfortunately, sometimes it can’t be done.

I think motorcycle weekends are cursed for me. Bacon and I are no more.

I’m going into hiding for a while…

day 10707: runner up #2…!!

Yay!

In the case that Bridesmaid and Bridesmaid runner up #1 are unable to fulfill their bridesmaid duties, it is my obligation, as Bridesmaid runner up #2 to step in and hand the Bride little squares of folded Kleenex during the ceremony so that her mascara doesn’t get runny.

Little does she know, I’ll probably be bawling alongside with the rest of the gang… we’re that happy for her.

day 10706: it’s all about me

When I say that the world revolves around me, and that it’s all about me, I don’t mean that everything has to go my way or else. What I mean is that there should be at least some consideration of me and my “feelings” and that I shouldn’t be feeling like I’m an afterthought.

Because on the flip side of everything, to me, it’s all about you.

day 10703: giving back

A bunch of us were feeling magnanimous last night and volunteered to do tax returns for kids at one of the children’s charities in the city… it was a complete and utter blast. The kids were cool, funny, and, well, it sure beats staying home and cleaning up after the contractors’ mess…

Schmassion: Are you married, divorced, single, common-law…?
Kid 1: I’m single. You single?
Schmassion: I’m here to do your tax return, not pick you up.
Kid 1: Too bad. You still in school? How old are you?
Schmassion: Too old for you. Do you have any kids?
Kid 1: No. Do you? Want some?

Kid 2: Yeah, but I’m cute. Don’t you think I’m cute?
Schmassion: Dude, you’re thirteen. Come back in three years.
Kid 2: Fine.
*two seconds later*
Kid 2: I’m back… and I’m still cute.
Schmassion: Why don’t you go get a cookie?

day 10702: day 4 of silence

Despite the rosy glow I try to paint in all my schmassion childhood stories, things were far from being peachy. Things weren’t disastrous by any means, but we had our bouts of spats, disagreements, attempted murder etc etc. We were a typical family; we children fought amongst ourselves, the parents fought amongst themselves. Sibling rivalry abound, I’m sure there are as many times when Sista hated my guts as when I hated hers. Probably more times for her, I wasn’t an easy person to get along with.

When times were good, they were great. Sunday afternoons, we’d finish lunch, watch American Gladiators or some other brain sucking television program and pile into my parents’ bed for a communal nap. Four of us in one bed, it was awesome. We’d lie there, laugh, chat and gradually fall asleep. Wake up late in the afternoon, and then get on with our days. To this day, nothing feels quite the same, nothing feels quite as content.

When times were bad, though, everyone watch out. I had a bad temper - a quick temper. I was a force to be reckoned with. Just joking. Not quite. All of us had tempers. All of us have been known to throw things, break things, lash out in anger with words, storm out of the room, hang up on each other, well, you get my drift. It was a long time before I learned how to even begin controlling my temper, and I admit, to this day, it still occasionally peeks through.

Sista and I fought about almost everything under the sun… toys, boys, television, music. The parents, on the other hand, only fought about two things. Money or family, both of which always had to do with things on my dad’s side of the family… long story that I’ll save for another day. We’d plead and beg for them to stop fighting, making empty promises about how Sista and I would stop fighting if they stopped fighting. Even then they laughed at us, knowing that the probability of us being able to accomplish such a feat would be slim.

Things escalated when I was about 12. There was a huge fight (probably about money or family, more likely about lending money to family), the Maternal One got pissed, packed her bags, grabbed Sista by the arm and left. Came back fifteen minutes later and decided to kick out Da instead. He came back after spending a couple of nights in the car somewhere and things were quickly back to “normal.” It was the only time I’d ever seen him cry.

During all this, and the times afterwards, I always wondered, why did the Maternal One only take Sista, and what the heck did I do to piss her off at me?

It’s day 4 of silence. It’s been much worse before, but this time, I feel like I'm playing for keeps.

day 10701: beefs, bitches, and a barrage of miscellany including a bling-flinging barrista…

Blame it on the crazy glue, and my obsession with figuring out underwear logistics, I know it’s been a while. So long that I haven’t even talked about Mexico and that was almost a month ago… too long ago…

A lot of stuff has happened over the past little while; stuff that you want to talk to your therapist about, stuff that you want psychoanalyzed, but you can’t because your pseudo-therapist cancelled on you. I think I scare her.

Oh, and I was just joking about the bling-flinging barrista. Who wants Starbucks when you can Roll Up the Rim to Win.

Beefs, bitches and a barrage of miscellany in no particular order…

~ Monkeyco moseyed close to the plate. They offered $5K less than the lowest number in the range that I gave them. Thus, search for new Monkeyco has begun. I don’t like being taken advantage of.

~ That said, well, maybe Monkeyco presented a good point about some things, but regardless, I’m still not happy. Thus, search for new Monkeyco has begun.

~ To the prospective new Monkeycos, please don’t ask where I picture myself to be in 5 years. The world is changing faster than my mind. What I want to be in 5 years is rich and retired, but how can I tell you that in a job interview… DUH!!!

~ Also to the prospective new Monkeycos, how do I tell you that I'm leaving because I don't really like my boss without sounding petty and vindictive... HOW? Just tell me how.

~ New Monkeyco search is going very slowly. I am being really, really picky. But, at this moment in time, my motivation is pure, undiluted greed.

~ Money isn’t everything. Greed can be for experience too… I just want it all… but mostly the money.

~ Condo management sent out a notice last week that water pipes were to be fixed in my unit, thus requiring the vacating of all items in the kitchen and bathroom so holes can be cut into the wall. I spent the WEEKEND cleaning things out, and the only hole in the wall is beside the couch… WHERE I STASHED ALL THE STUFF FROM THE KITCHEN AND BATHROOM. Needless to say, they moved everything around and neither party is impressed.

~ The maternal one keeps demanding that I move home and stop deserting her in her time of need. I have no good words to say about that one, except that your way or no one's way does not fit the definition of "compromise." ARGHHHH... source of neverending frustration.

~ I found my dream bike. It’s whatever bike is black and burgundy. Really, at the moment, it’s the GSXR-750, but paint it any other colour, and I probably won’t recognize it. Who knew I was such a girl. (When you click on the link, and I know you will, remember… BLACK AND BURGUNDY… *drool*)

~ Apparently speeding in a school zone is a major conviction and seriously affects your eligibility for cheap car insurance. Maybe I should have disputed my ticket 2 YEARS AGO! I swear officer, that school isn’t really a SCHOOL... it’s 8:45 in the MORNING on a SCHOOL DAY… do you see any kids? Honestly, folks, the playground was deserted.

~ Seriously, I think I use the word “seriously” too much. Who am I kidding, I can never be taken seriously… I’m never serious, seriously. Case in point.

I’m single until Saturday… anyone up for something Friday?

day 10699: let’s play another game… wwjd?

Say J’s mother was very, very opposed to J ever riding/sitting/riding on the back of/thinking about/dreaming about/etc a motorcycle and wanted J to promise never to do any of all of the above.

Say J’s mother wanted J to practically sign in blood that J would never do any of the all of the above.

Say J really, really, really liked doing all of the above EXCEPT riding on the back of a motorcycle, because realistically, J is a driver, not a passenger (let’s get real, folks). And J is about [this close] to buying one, and will definitely never give up riding one.

If you were J, WWJD?

I’ll tell you what J shouldn’t have done. ..

J’s response to the maternal one’s comments of “I lost your dad, I don’t want to lose you too” (and subsequent rambling) probably shouldn’t have been, “Well, I think he would have thought it would be fun, and he’d probably have wanted to ride one too.”

Response to further maternal ramblings shouldn’t have been, “Yeah, well, you probably won’t have let him anyway.”