31 May 2006

Satisfied Mind

It's funny how a little dose of home makes all the difference in the world.

I spent the last few days battling this inner gloominess. I tried my best to swallow it and go on about my day, not to let it affect anyone else around me. I am not sure if I was successful but I tried my best nonetheless. The other day, I said fuck it. I was armed with a handful of free Captain Highliner phone cards and a desire for gossip - I'm calling home! Soon, I discovered that Captain Highliner is a jerk with his ways of pushing fish sticks and peddling free phone cards that don't work that great so I dialed direct. For a moment, I felt a bit guilty. I shouldn't be spending money by accumilating long distance phone calls. By the end of it, no regrets. Those phone calls turned my day around completely. I can't stop smiling now!

I talked to a friend back home, whom I affectionately call my "sex kitten". We go way back. Well, not that far back but far enough. She used to be my little partner in crime. We'd get into stupid messes quite often. Once, we even got married to a group of guys through a ceremony that involved licorice and a cookbook - but that's another story. We have a lot of silly jokes that no one else gets and it was great just being a weirdo with her over the phone again. I miss her! Also, I am very proud of her. She went out and accomplished her dream of being a paramedic. She did it, she passed her tests, and now she is getting paid. Good for her!

As I was on the phone with her, another friend called and left a message. Yippee! I felt so special! Two calls in one day! I promptly called her back and we caught up. I haven't spoken to her in quite sometime. Oh gosh, probably sometime in the autumn? I haven't seen her in over a year as well. Since then, she has become a wife. A girl I never thought would get married! She is happy and adjusting to her new life. Her husband is in the military so she is now living on base. Her world is a little different now, obviously. Even though we are leading different lives, we are in the same boat of many levels. We spent over an hour chatting away about life and girly gossip and old times.

The next day, I woke up so very happy all because of these two connections. I have been planting up a storm lately. Maybe it's because I don't have a garden or maybe I just want to feel like a kid again. I have planted four found seeds, including a maple seed. I suppose I don' t really need a maple tree, haha, but I figure I can always grow it into a bonsai tree (in about 30 years) or replant it in a field somewhere. As well, all our carnivorous plants have officially had their first meal of the season as of yesterday!

We found a small beetle for Richard the Pitcher Plant. After great difficulty, we managed to get the beetle into his pitcher. The beetle struggled for a while, but he could not escape. We laughed evilly. My partner caught a fly for Vernon the Venus Flytrap and that was a success as well. Vernon's first meal ever! As we were looking at plants, I commented about Virgil the Venus Flytrap not rejecting the fly. It clicked it! We did not feed him afterall - he caught his this struggling fly (his leg was still moving in the trap) all on his own! That made my day! They are all growing up now - soon, they won't even need us anymore! I wish I had a digital camera to take pics of them.

As far as Weedy the Jack Pine seedling goes, we're a little worried. His growth is slow. His wee needley appendages are starting to brown on the tips. Are any of my readers experts on plants? Is this okay for pine seedlings to do? I don't want to lose Weedy - he's been through too much trauma since he was planted (lost his best friend due to a wind accident, probably fell over himself, infested with bugs to which we had to water him with a cigarette ash and water mixture, etc).

It's good to feel satisfied. I may be a bit broke and I may be a bit homesick - but I feel satisfied. I'm growing plants. I have a new bathmat that makes my feets happy. I have books to read and a towel to cross stitch ("Be My Bitch"). I even have a brand spanking new Waterpik for my teefs, yo.

And best of all, I am loved and I have me some great friends that I greatly appreciate.

28 May 2006

Sighing on a Sunday Night

Ah, it's a warm Sunday night and I'm staying in. I should be doing something a little more productive. It seems that all I can do is space out while listening to music. At least, it is a little more productive than stewing in my own misery. Now that, my friends, is positive thinking!

I passed up another invitation to a free show, courtesy of my partner. I haven't seen his band in ages, outside of practise. It's guarenteed to be a great show, I'm certain. There's a fun band from Boston playing and there is an open bar from 9 to 11pm. Tonight is the last weekend night before the smoking ban comes into effect. The night sounds tempting and sounds like fun....for most people. Personally, I'd rather be enjoying myself on some sort of quiet street corner coffee shop's patio. Or terrace (pronounced terr-ASS here), as they say (and I refuse to call it) in Montreal.

The possibility of a free bar would be extremely appealing if I was into the fashion of excessive alcoholism. If I could guzzle tons of booze, I would. My body just can't hack it anymore, with the exception of gin. I can handle gin. It's the drink of summer, a bartender once told me. I once cradled a bottle of Beefeaters like a baby, and called her Ginny. I like gin.

Anyway, as I was saying. My body can't hack alcohol these days. Namely, beer. I am convinced that the reason for my stomach issues as of late has been because of beer. I'm not talking multiple beers like 5 or 13 bottles consumed. It's more like two bottles or, like last week, a half bottle - and I'm physically irritated for days. Believe me, it's not fun. And if I become sensitive to gin, I will be a very bitter and violent female.

Which brings me up to tonight. Though the free booze is tempting, the side effects of an open bar will most likely be stuck with me for half the week. For all the wrong reasons, at that. I like to see shows and I like live music, but I just don't have it in me to go to one lately. I want to be social, don't get me wrong. I want to be charmingly chatty, but I honestly don't feel like doing it in a loud venue over a band. And I'm convinced I wouldn't care as much if I could be like the rest of them and drink like a fish. I simply can't. It's either be reasonably sober or drink and potentially have my blood sugar levels go wonky with the booze and the body heat - which means, you'll find me either blacked out on the floor or outside trying not to black out on the barroom floor. I know what I could possibly hear when I state that I feel lonely lately - I've been given opportunities to hang out and I certainly appreciate the offers and invitations. It's not that I do not wish to socialize - I would just rather do it in a better suited environment. That's all. I guess beggers can't be choosy, as they say. However, beggers like myself can choose to stay at home when they just know that a hot, sticky crowd of drunken people, loud music, and disgusting bar bathrooms will send them into a social and inner rage.

As I also mentioned, this is the last weekend that you can smoke in public places before the smoking ban comes into effect. I'm one of the few smokers who actually doesn't mind this idea. The city I am from banned smoking quite some time ago so I feel somewhat used to it. It only annoys me when I am at a coffee shop - I like having a cigarette then. Otherwise, I don't really care. It's only an annoying inconvenience when you are out a bar and have to go outside to smoke. But really, that's all it is. An annoying inconvenience. They say Montrealers will never go for this idea and so on and so forth. Well, this is what I have to say - get over it and suck it up. Hell, if Ireland can do it - Quebec can too.

The first thing I enjoyed about the smoking ban back home was coming home from a bar or show and not having to take a shower to rid myself of smelling like a big old ashtray.

The second thing I enjoyed was that I could go to the Albert or other scummy clubs back home and there would be a huge lack of scuzzy clientele. The ban cleaned up the crowd. I don't know if that will make any difference here, mind you. There seems to be a different kind of scuzzy crowd in Montreal. Who knows, maybe they will still continue to go out in their best sweatsuits and get loaded at the local tavern down my street despite the ban.

The third and most favourite thing I enjoyed about the ban would be the money I saved. Of course, cigarettes are much more expensive back home than here. However, you smoked less in public and I didn't smoke at home. A pack of cigarettes would last me a very long time to the point of questioning myself to why I am even smoking in the first place.

Anyway, I don't mind the ban. It would be nice to come home smelling pretty for once even though it wouldn't make any difference because I smoke at home. It's something I seriously want to quit. I should be thinking about all the health factors but I think about the money issue. I get a perverse thrill out of saving money and I haven't doing that much lately. I'm going to be one of those eccentic old people who saves a dime or two by de-plying toilet paper, haha.

I've been listening to The Killjoys tonight (from Canada). Good stuff, I miss that band. I remember seeing them a long time ago, at the Pyramid. There's something about that band that just brings me back to another time. A good time. The music doesn't necessarily remind me of a particular person or moment. It just reminds me of that certain time.

The best I can say it is this:
Sometimes music is just music. It's simply there; in the background and often pushed aside. Yet, every now and then, a certain song or band comes along that just strikes a chord within you. It has that personal magic to it that makes you feel. It has that power to take you back to a certain time in your life years later. And sometimes, that certain time can be years ago when life wasn't that great but still you had this amazing music to make you smile or dance or sing along to.

And that is how The Killjoys make me feel. They just bring me back to a certain and personal time.

Now, I am singing along to classic crooner songs.

I wish I had the balls to sing well. Heh, and the talent - that would help too. I wish I could have one of those un-girly singing voices. I'm not talking scratchy like Joplin either. Just one of those smooth, deep, smoky voices that great women singers of yesteryear have. Everything would be in black and white and cigarette smoke would seductively swirl around me and I would make all the gentlemen in the audience swoon and the dirty faced kid outside selling the newspapers would delightfully say, "Gee, that was swell!".

Sigh.

Someplace - The Killjoys

Can I meet you in that place downtown,
in that little restaurant?
I've found friends going down for good
oh my love, oh my love.

Can I kiss you in a parking lot?
Well, it might what I thought I'd find -
another little piece of mind can't hurt.
oh my love, oh my love.

Rec Room - The Killjoys

I like to feel the heat of every light that is shone
and even see the moment I was hated the most
and I'd like to roll the film where I told the funniest joke.
Oh, but you're the one I'll miss when I've gone.

I like to stay wet from the water up north
and even feel the heat and taste of blood through the cold
but the loneliest thing that I'll ever know
is that you're the one I'll miss when I've gone.

I like to smell the skin of every love that I've known
or play a tape we taped when we were getting along
and we played all the times friends came back after the show
Oh, but you're the one I'll miss when I've gone.

Strange, strange notion over me.
Strange, strange notion over you.

You're the one I'll miss when I've gone.
Oh yeah, you're the one I'll miss when I've gone.
Yeah but, you're the one I'll miss...

26 May 2006

Being Alone

I almost escaped Stinktown tonight but I failed. Alas, I am sitting here in front of the computer partaking in some shameless bloggery. Le sigh.

I was originally supposed to go to Ottawa for the night but plans were changed. It's too bad, I needed a little escape from this city. It wouldn't be much of an escape, mind you. Just a chance for me to chill out and see a show in another city. Plans were changed and there ended up being no room in the van for sexy bitches like myself. Oh well. At least I can't blame it on the "no girlfriends" rule anymore. There was a slight chance to see a newer friend of mine, one from back home who currently resides in Ottawa. I need a little piece of hometown every once and a while, even if it's simply sharing a laugh with someone who used to live where I used to live.

Therefore, it's another quiet night for me.

I don't know how I'll take it, once my partner leaves this summer for his tour of musical duty. I was sincerely hoping to go back home while he's gone - kill two birds that way. He's gone, I'm gone - we'll be both missing one another but at least we will be both occupied. It's all about money, when it comes down to it. I don't think I will have the money to pull it off, sadly. It's no problem while I am out there, I can come and go fairly freely without cash. It's the getting out there part that will drain my already drained bank account. It's too bad. As I said, I need a little piece of home. Anyway, I'm probably going about this very selfishly. I want him to have fun on the road but I can't help but feel whiny and "what about me?". I enjoy being alone and I like it when he goes off to do his own thing - but the thought of being alone for a good chunk of summer just irks the hell out of me. I'm going to be sitting on pins and needles. Night sounds will alarm me. I'll participate in every bad habit that I can get my hands on - excessive smoking, stewing in my own misery, and eating the worst food possible. I'll just brood and be lonely and accomplish nothing. How's that for positive thinking?!

They have to do this though so I have to be supportive. Not selfish.

It's weird and I should not put the stress on him. It's not fair nor is it cool of me.

I guess I just fear the thought of being lonely in an empty apartment for most of the summer. A time of year where I actually feel like moving about and gathering around with friends and taking long walks. Well, I can move all I want but I will still have a severe shortage of friends and the menace of being alone in my own head.

Yeah, I'm a suck.

I'd rather spend $500 on airfare so I won't have to be here alone. That way, I can be where my real "home" is - surrounded by family and friends, getting kitty cat loving, and utilizing my connections with others.

However, if I do have the time here - I can actually get some writing done without interruptions. In fact, I challenged myself to try to write a novel during this time. I have received a few comments of support and I feel encouraged - but then I sit back and simply feel exhausted at the thought. I have no idea what I'd actually write about, to be honest with you. It seems like the only ideas that ever cross my mind are juvenile ones - stupid movies titles, usually. And when I do feel possessed to write about something I am passionate about - it's about the past, it's my old blog of yesteryear that I want to turn into something. I feel like writing that is like opening up a very secretive can of worms. However, I don't want to lose this writing as it was a very interesting and passionate time in my little life. Many thoughts and ideas floated around my head during that year. I just don't want it to think I am living in the past though.

Regardless, it's my life. Scars and all. I know I'm not living in the past and I know where things stand in my present life - so that's all that really matters.

Well, at least I have the Dead Milkmen to keep me company tonight.

24 May 2006

Missing Home, Being Hormonal

I went through a moment of vicious and vile moods late this afternoon. I was tempted to blog mean things, cursing this city and every French person that lives in it. I wanted to add a hole in the wall and talk behind the backs of friends. But what I really wanted to do was possess the power to breath fire and break glass with the very glance of my eyes. Methinks I need to let my anger out...any which way I can. Whether it's through writing or by participating in the fine art of violently beating up garbage cans with a baseball bat until I'm exhausted - I need to let my anger out somehow.

I take a step back and occupy my mind with something, anything. I become distracted and no longer angry. Or I just get sleepy and contemplate taking a long nap under warm blankets. Ah, my happy zone. Being asleep. Is that a sign of being avoidant?!

Anyway, I was pissy earlier. The crimson tide started to eagerly flow this morning, and everything feels off and wonky with my body. My stomach has reacted oddly for the second time in less than a week. It exhausts me, to feel queesy and drained from my monthly reminder that screams I'm a woman. And to top it off, I was all dressed up and ended up with no where to go. Yes, that sends this certain female over the edge.

I realize that my need to go out and socialize is not as great as the need to relax and treat my body right. However, after days of rain and the colour grey and you name it - I just wanted to get out, be in the sun, hear some good music, and go home happy with the fact I had shared actual conversations. Face to face ones, at that - what a novel idea!

So I stay in to feel better. Truth is, my throat feels warm and uncomfortable. I have a feeling it is related to something fishy going on in my stomach. Acid reflux? Allergy to the barley in beer? Well, at least I'm not "with child" - shudders. Anyway, where was I? Yes, so I stay in. I stay in because I physically feel like warmed over crap. I miss yet another show because my stomach hurts. I haven't been out anywhere remotely "fun" in a long time. I haven't hung out with a girl friend since, oh lets see, about Christmas time. Many months ago.

And I know, it's mostly my own damn fault. I don't "get out there" enough. I must admit that I am greatly improving at socializing and I certainly make more of an effort. I feel much more comfortable around my partner's friends and people that are at shows, or what have you. Good people to chat with when you run into them here and there. But yet, no one with whom I feel that instant click of bonding with.

Perhaps, I expect too much out of people. I can't expect people to flock to me if I am so quiet and therefore somewhat intimidating. Also, I can't expect to form lifelong bonds at busy, loud shows where everyone is having a boozy ol' time - as I lurk in the back because I tend to shy away from drinking excessively. Back home, it was easy. I had the balls and I was a friendship making machine! I knew everyone to the point where others would remark at just how many I actually know. And I even considered myself anti-social back then! I move here, and I feel so solitary.

One thing about feeling alone is that you learn a lot about yourself. You find your own ways to personally amuse yourself when you don't have someone to lean on in the entertainment department. I have discovered I have much more patient with reading now, I have much more interest in continuing to write, and I have more of a passion to learn things - whether it is redundant facts or complex needlework. I probably rely too heavily on my partner for entertaining me...and I know I am bad with that. I'm not proud of it, believe me. And I hope he realizes that I don't really mean to be as socially demanding as I might be. Hey, at least I'm not expecting him to take me out to fancy dinners and demand fancy jewels. I'm pretty modest and thrifty where entertaining the female is concerned. Take me for a walk and a cheap cup of coffee and some people watching, and I'm thrilled.

Somedays, like today, I'm just tired of being alone. One of the good things about going away and leaving my longtime set of friends is the discovering. Discovering what amazing people my friends are. Discovering how much I truly value them. Discovering how happy they make me feel with their support, their senses of humour, and their beautiful kindness. I can only hope I show the same to them. I will never take forgranted the history we have together. Today, I needed a friend.

And I have one in my partner. I do not take that forgranted, even though my moods might let him think otherwise. Jesus, it's like I was raised Catholic or something - I carry around all this guilt with me!

Sometimes you just need your own friends. The ones you have met on your own and independently. The ones you hold history with. The ones who completely know what you mean when you say "garbage bags" in a manly voice or make a series of air guitar noises or references to lines in the movie Mannequin - you know, inside jokes. I hate all this growing up and moving on stuff.

(I just want to travel back to a handful of years ago just so I can take another sleepy swing dance with Kyle in my puddly driveway in the middle of the night - before he moved to Asia and I moved here. Wow, writing that totally made me cry like a little girl.)

Maybe, I shouldn't dance with the past so often. I should eagerly dance myself into the future instead. Maybe, I'm just holding myself back by clinging to the past. Sigh, I don't know.

Go out and meet people. Find your hobbies and join a group. Get out. Talk to people. Blah, blah blah. I used to rock. Now, I feel like that nervous little girl in kindergarden. Awkward, clumsy, shy. The language barrier here intimidates me. There's that big city mentality that is very unlike living in the prairies. Rarily, small talk is made in stores or out on the street. And if so, I don't understand much of it. I don't have close girl friends to bitch to over coffee. All of this being alone and feeling young and awkward again, has temporarily shut down that small part of me that is social. Of course, maybe I'm just making excuses again. It is different here, compared to back home. The people may party harder here, the people may be way more open minded, the people may be more conscious of fashion - but the people back home have hearts the colour of pure golden wheat fields, that I truly miss.

Never take your good friends forgranted.

There's nothing more I can add to my hormonal rant.

The Stomach Aches and the Mind Dreams!

My stomach is acting up again. Le sigh. I don't know what it is, what the hell is wrong with me. I'm not in pain, by any means. It's simply not pleasant. It's an odd sensation, that I feel is related to my stomach even though it doesn't necessarily hurt or feels unsettled. The uncomfortable part is this warm sensation I feel in my throat. It feels as though I drank too much booze and I'm on my way to yakking up a storm. It's that kind of warm feeling that tells you to stop drinking, to prevent yakking up a storm. I have a tremendous craving for water, just to stop that warm feeling and to make my mouth feel better. I'm drinking water...but it is not helping whatsoever. No worries, I'll survive.

I took into account what I consumed last week when I started feeling ill. Corona beer. I had two last week and felt like this a while later, after I ate dinner. Last night, I had not even a full bottle of Corona and I felt like this again, after I ate dinner. I just can't see how a single beer can linger around in your system though so it's probably something else.

The city workers began fixing our neighbour's crumbling balcony this morning. They haven't been too noisy so far but we were already awake when they started. Let's see how I feel about it tomorrow morning, grr. I kind of feel sorry for these workers as they had to clean the balcony beforehand. And it was covered in dog shit and rotting garbage. Yeah, and they said it was like that when they moved it. Yeah...what swines.

Oh! Once again, I was an active little dreamer. Ah, I seem to lead such an exciting life in the world of sleepytown!

First of all, I had a shopping dream. I was with another girl but I can't recall who. The shop looked like the old Met Mart in my hometown. I was very thrilled because this girl showed me where they kept cheap journals and I needed to buy one to write Felica in. We found the most amazing journal and we both bought the same one. A Lionel Ritchie journal, with several different photos of him that includes a full body photo and a dramatic profile picture. I was so happy because I already owned the Tom Jones one.

Then, I was walking in Winnipeg with my partner. I was very bored, because it wasn't a very pretty area of town. The houses were side-by-sides in a 60's design and very generic. It reminded me of former military housing units turned into low rental housing projects. There was a large wooden gate and I jumped over it. I discovered that I am also clumsy in my dreams - just like real life! I totally destroyed the gate, smashed to pieces. My partner told me to run so I ran. We were now running down my street back home. We were darting through backyards and driveways and back alleys. We kept running but he was faster than me. I looked down at myself and saw that I had an unusually large gut. My partner came up with a good idea to break into a house so that we could catch our breath and use the bathroom. We were very considerate and took off our shoes upon entering the house.

As we were putting our shoes on, this teenage male walked out of the hallway. He had a fantastic mullet! He greeted us warmly. Then this girl from high school came out to say hello and eventually invited us to eat dinner with them. Girl and Mulletboy disappeared, and we were seated with Angie who had a vast amount of pizza in front of her. She was selling her pizza to my partner, $2 a slice. He agreed. She offered me a free slice of pizza - but only her white vinegar and goat cheese slice. I politely declined. I looked down at the table and saw sugar packets all over the place. They were advertising this comedian I know online. I picked up a fork and ate them all.


Yep, that's my dream. I guess I shouldn't have watched Crackheads Gone Wild last night, haha!

22 May 2006

Late Night Calls & Stupidity Dreams

I have a friend back home. No matter what you tell him, nothing sinks in. I realize that he has been recently diagnosed with attention deficit disorder and a part of me says I should cut him some slack. However, he's been really trying lately. Not just for me, but for my partner.

I like this friend. He's harmless though at times he grates on my nerves. I think he has a good heart, but the ADD is truly aggrivating for me since it appears as though he cannot listen to a word I say. I've known others with ADD and they have been completely pleasurable to be around. I don't know what it is with this kid (this 30 year old kid) but no matter how many times you tell him not to call late, he keeps calling later and later. I'm a natural night owl but man, this is just too much already.

We haven't been sleeping well lately either. We fell into a deep sleep only to be called at half past three in the morning! Unless something disasterous has happened, there's no real reason to be called at that hour...especially when there is a time difference and it's much later here than at home. Ugh. What more can you say or scold when the person in need of a severe lecture pays absolutely no attention to what you have to say? Will I just have to go to extremes and get his number blocked just so we can get a peaceful fucking sleep at night?

Hopefully my partner's words will be recognised and remembered:

"Don't ever fucking call after midnight again!" Clack!

Anyway, I feel a bit responsible since this is my friend. No matter what you say, nothing sinks in. I have to be much more aggressive I suppose. Not only have I told him not to call late, but my sister and my friend has as well. Is it sinking in? Nope.

And of course, we couldn't fall back asleep peacefully after that. My partner was understandably grumpy and pissed off. I was restless because I would be barked at as well for not getting it through my friend's thick skull not to call so bloody late. We woke up groggy and puffy-eyed, truly underslept. It's fine for me since I'm just killing time today. Unfortunately, the man had to get up early and get some work done that requires a clear and awake mind. Thanks, friend back home. What's next? A phone call at five in the morning just to talk about the latest shitty horror movie and 80's music?

The only good thing about being woken up by the phone at that hour is that I discovered something about my teeth. I'm a teeth clencher and grinder. I usually sleep on my left side, cheek buried in the pillow. It's the right side of my teeth that always hurts. I'm thinking, the pressure of my cheek against the pillow helps me not grind that side of my teeth as much. I must just grind the right side of my teeth all night long, in one particular area. Namely, where my recent dental work has occured. When the phone rang, it stopped me from clenching my teeth and that very area stung. Not in a toothache way, but in the nerves department. Okay, I'm really coming off as uninteresting today...haha.

As well, when I sleep restlessly I do strange things in my sleep. I have this habit of tossing and turning and bringing the top sheet along for the ride. Somehow, the top sheet ends up twisted like a rope. And somehow, the twisted top sheet ends up around my neck. I wake up feeling constricted and have to unwrap the sheet around my neck. Pretty sexy.

I can't remember much of my dreams of last night. They feel scattered, when I try to remember. I had a dream that I got in a fight with this old co-worker I had. I cannot remember the argument itself or what caused it. Just to get back at this girl, I stole her small, fluffy white dog. And then I was stuck with this dog and I didn't know what the hell to do with it. So obviously, the right thing to do with the dog was take it to the Academy Awards.

And that I did. We were in the nosebleed section for the regular folks. The stairs were steep. It clicked in that I shouldn't have a small, yappy dog at the Oscars plus Billy Crystal was hosting. I left.

I kept calling J but he was not home. I had to find this girl because I just hated this dog. I wanted it gone. Then I ran into Moby. He looked sad and didn't have any suggestions nor would he take the mutt. Thanks for the help, Moby. Somehow I managed to lose it, because the next thing I was doing was wandering around an old mall back home (this is the second time this week where I've been dreaming about old malls from back home) carrying this coat I used to wear in junior high and avoiding bikers who were eating at a Burger King (and, second Burger King dream!).

The last thing I remember was crossing the highway with this girl I know and what appeared to be her little sister. It was assumed to be here, but was really north of my prairies hometown. It was a crosswalk but no one would stop. There were speeding neon green bicycles popping wheelies. We made it across to walk along the river. There was a lot of cement. The little sister wrapped her hands around my bare thigh and said, "Here's the three dollars I owe you for the lavender". Then she told me that J kept calling me over and over. As she said that, I looked on the ground to see a small yellow canker worm crawling on a small blade of grass.

(At the end of writing this, my friend called to apologize. I told him again, not to call so late. He wanted to talk to my partner...I think he's in for an earful when he actually gets a hold of him.)

Moving Day

It seems to be official! Our annoying and disgusting neighbours are moving out! Yippee! I can only hope that they all will be gone and no one worse moves in.

We have had some problems with these neighbours this year. They have been generally good where noise is concerned. They've been quiet, actually. The issue we had with them has been their lack of respect for their living space and neighbours (us). We had to deal with their pyramid of garbage bags and lumps of dog dumps in front of our living room window. As well, they clogged up the fire escape with tons of garbage. I'm talking, waist deep of garbage. That in itself is a fire hazard, let alone have it be in the fire escape in the first place. After several warnings and visits from the city inspector, it became somewhat clean. No more dog shit in front of our window. No more pyramid of garbage bags to be ripped apart from families of raccoons. However, the garbage was only pushed aside in the fire escape path. They also have continued to not throw out garbage on their wee, unsturdy balcony and continued to toss garbage on the roof/back alley. Talk about lazy.

Yesterday, while we had company over, we got a knock at the door by the neighbours. They needed our door open so that they can move their large couch out of the building. Ah, you should have seen the smile on our faces! They're actually moving out! I just wanted to high five my partner! Their soiled couch would not budge. It was wedged in between our door and the stairway. We silently laughed at their misfortune. Then they came up with a clever idea.

"Do you wanna just throw it off the balcony?"

Yep, that's how clever they are. However, I don't think the lady of the house would let them. I figure since they seem to have no problem throwing everything out their windows instead of leaving it on the curb of the street like everyone else does, that the couch would just end up on the building roof or in the middle of the back alley. I'm so very glad that they are moving. I wasn't looking forward to the potential bug/rodent situation that would occur with their uncleanliness once summer came. No more hallway smelling like pitbull piss either! Once they leave, I'm going to get a big ol' can of air freshener and I'll destink the place.

Keep your fingers crossed in regards to our new neighbours in the future.

20 May 2006

Another Redundant Dream

After two nights of seductive and steamy dreams, I am back to my usual pattern of dreaming yawners that don't make much sense.

First of all, I had a dream that Keith Richards succumbed to his recent brain surgury. I wasn't affected by the news.

The other half of my dream made no sense. This man who is producing a record for my partner's friend's band was the lead character. He's a portly man, with shaggy hair and beard. He always has his arms folded across his stomach. He intimidates me with his seemingly bored stare. Anyway, he's in my dream. How hot is that?

Since he seems to be the entrepreneurial type in real life, it showed in my dream. He came up with a brilliant new idea and followed through. In my dream, he became the owner and operator of the world's first vegetarian Burger King joint. Not only was this the first vegetarian Burger King, he built the restaurant to be inflated like a rubber raft or dinghy so the restaurant floated in the middle of the river (which strikes me as odd, because there would be absolutely no walk-by traffic). I recall inspecting the building materials carefully.

So over the last handful of nights or so, I have had two dreams that involves inflatable objects. I scratch my chin in wonder, what does that mean?! First it was the inflatable band-aid pool toys and now it's inflatable vegetarian Burger King restaurants.

I googled up dream symbolism. Clearly, there are no explainations about my inflatable items. Restaurants apparently symbolise choices and nourishment. Bandage for healing and protection. But what about when they are in inflatable form? My best reasoning for these dreams is simple - I'm a weirdo who happens to have dreams that make absolutely no sense.

I have heard that you are to ask yourself, how do these dreams make you feel? Well, thinking back on my dreams ... honestly, I felt a sense of wonder at stupidity. Like, "What would possess someone to build a restaurant out of inflatable rubber and float it in the middle of a river?".

Aha! That could be it! I am feeling a sense of wonder at the stupidity of people!

(or I just have stupid dreams....)

19 May 2006

The 7th Day of Rain and I'm Still Babbling About Leonard Cohen

It is the seventh day of rain in my city. Today, I put my foot down and declared my distaste for this brand of weather. I've simply had enough of the colour grey, the constant rain, and the lack of light blue skies dazzled by the sun. Each morning, I keep my fingers crossed to see a sunny day beyond my curtains. Sigh, to no avail.

I wanted to be socially charming tonight.

I had perfect intentions on going to
The Brains and Bloodshot show tonight. Another sigh, in honour of my slightly sore stomach. I'm staying in because of that, even though I think I could have lasted all night even in such a small and stuffy club. I didn't want to take any chances, however. The last thing I need to be labeled as would be a party pooper! Yes, I didn't want to drag my partner's ass there only to go home early because of my stupid stomach ache. I'm sure he is enjoying himself at the show though.

This quiet time allows me to scribble away with words and listen to music that typically drives my partner crazy. Ah, tonight...it's just Leonard and I. I remember a time when several suitors would present Leonard Cohen cds to me in lieu of flowers. Lucky me, I landed the one who crossed paths with the poet himself! Of course, poor Leonard did not expect how clumsy my partner crosses paths...while carrying beverages. If only I was there to clean up. Heh.



Needless to say, Cohen's new collection of poetry called Book of Longing is on my current wishlist. I need to read words to swoon over.

Which brings up an observation about myspace forums. I'm on the Cohen forum. It is, thankfully, not a catty or immature place to be. There are no heavy debates. But, what grinds my gears is that I keep posting news articles and announcements and no one responds. Members are quick to respond to what his wittiest line is or even how someone's pug likes Cohen. As soon as I announce his recent appearance in Toronto or post a video clip of that, no one responds. Tumbleweeds roll by. I kill yet another forum post. For crying out loud, the man has not performed in public for years and yet they are more excited to talk about how a freaking dog likes his music. I don't get it. I swear, myspace forums piss me off to no end. That is why I no longer join silly rockabilly groups and forums dedicated to makeup artistry.

I am, however, pleased at how much coverage Leonard is receiving in the media lately. And yeah, I am obsessed with him. His words are endlessly intoxicating to me. In autumn, he may tour. I will be there. Oh yes, I will be there even though I am not fond of his overuse of synthesizers and ladies who sing back up vocals.


Anyway, I finally finished reading Watership Down by Richard Adams. It took me over a month, which is longer than usual for me. True, I occupied myself with other activities - cross stitching, writing, journaling, and massive spring cleaning. I think it was more than that though. I felt as though I became friends with these magnificent little rabbits and didn't wish for our friendship to end. As well, I did not want to turn another page that may or may not lead into a tragedy. It may sound silly, talking this way about a book. Let's just say, I will never look at rabbits the same way again. My sister told me today that there is a family of rabbits living under her patio which makes me wonder, what kind of adventures are these ones in?!

As for cross stitching, I have finished two full projects now and I am proudly working on my third. It's a clever little pattern, thanks to Subversive Cross Stitch. It's a sign that says "People Are Cattle" and has little cows and flowers along the top and bottom. It's a gift for my partner. He's anxiously waiting for our new piece of homemade art! I'm thinking that next I will do kitchen towels that boldly say "Be My Bitch". That way, I can throw one towards my partner and he can do the dishes, haha. It's a fun past time, when you smut it up. Maybe one day, I'll cross stitch a portrait of Kenny Rogers, haha.

I've decided, if I do not go home this summer and I'm not working - I am challenging myself to write a novel. It sounds completely intimidating but I feel encouraged. I guess we'll wait and see.


18 May 2006

Under-the-Weather Dreams, featuring Mr. Leonard Cohen

Forgive me for my weak bloggery. It seems I have caught some sort of stomach ache. I hesitate to call it a flu, since I have had marvellous luck avoiding these types of flus. It struck me last night, after a tall glass of juice. It felt as though I consumed too much sugar and I felt queesy, uncomfortable. I went to bed early and woke at four in the morning to the same complaint. Thankfully, everything is staying down. I'm sure it will pass sometime today as long as I get my rest. This gives me the permission to stylishly lounge around in a velour tracksuit all day (while clutching leopard print pillow to stomach).

The reason I got out of fetal position to write a blog was to tell you about another dream I had last night. Still no dinosaurs barfing submarines! However, it was a good dream that needs to be remembered! Hopefully, my sleepy mind will allow me to do so.

First of all, I received plenty of mail and parcels in this dream. Those dreams always make me happy even though it never comes true. I received tons of envelopes and gifts from various friends. When shuffling through the articles I noticed gifts from Rachel, Dineen, and Dan (from South Dakota). I began opening up all the boxes and presents while my partner slept. There was a bowl of candy from someone. Strange pins and buttons. Books. The one item I remember most clearly came from Rachel. It was a box full of inflatable pool toys shaped like different sizes/styles of band-aids. I was so happy! I went away for a moment and I returned to see some child with his mother snacking at my bowl of candy. I screamed at them, telling them that these are MY candies from friends I only see once a year. I scolded her for not teaching her child respect for other peoples items. She replied that I should not have left candy out because candy is for children. Then I said a hearty, "Fuck off, bitch."

Now comes the good part. At least something good came from sleeping with a queesy stomach.

Oh, I was spending quality time with Mr. Leonard Cohen. Sigh! I've had dreams of him before, of the romantic sort. Nothing dirty, just spooning with Leonard. This one was just as lovely. I'm sure I have lost some of the details in my mind since getting out of bed.

There was some sort of gala going on, in honour of Leonard Cohen, and I was in attendance. I think it was to release his new book of poetry (in stores now, by the way). By some means, I ended up sitting at his table. There was no one really there at the table. Leonard sat beside me and his ex (who was blonde, so I assumed it was Marianne) was across from us. I can't remember our conversation, but just the feeling. It wasn't hot or mysterious. He acted very fatherly around me, protective. He did not want to be there whatsoever and I think it was because he was not feeling well. Marianne offered me a glass of milk and Leonard convinced me further. Oddly enough, I was already carrying around a glass of milk. He was drinking milk as well, but filling up a needle to inject himself with something. I didn't know what it was but it did not frighten me so I assumed it was beneficial for his health and not the deconstruction of it. He kept reaching over to reach something on the table and his arm would brush across my face. I didn't move out of the way. He kept talking but I didn't concentrate on the words - just the sound of his voice. At one point, he kissed the back of my head and called me "dear". I sat there, feeling all silly inside.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "How would you like to accompanying this 71 year old grandfather to the depanneur shortly?"

It sounded utterly poetic.

"But, it's your night and people are here to see you!"

"So?"

Sigh...and that was the last thing he said to me. He got on stage and I got paranoid that I was looking shiny. I went on a quest to find my face powder in my purse, which felt like a bottomless pit. I found my camera and I was going to take a photo of us, otherwise no one would believe me that I was with Leonard Cohen and we went to the depanneur (which is a corner store/convenience store, by the way) together. There were tons of people in the hallways and when I returned to the gala - no one was watching Leonard on stage anymore. It offended me, but I looked forward to our trip to the depanneur together, arm in arm.

And then, being the jerk that I am - I woke up.

Still, a nice dream to have when you are feeling under the weather.



16 May 2006

I Had a Dream, I Had an Awesome Dream

Lately, I have been dreaming all kinds of sluggish and redundant dreams. Real dull, repetitive ones. For example, one dream I had involved me writing HTML code into this blog. Over and over and over again because I couldn't get it right. Talk about a yawner. Last night I had a dream about mold on my walls. I just stood there expressionless, staring at the mold. Where's that dinosaur barfing submarines when I need one in my dreams?

Anyway. The other night, I have this dream I am watching television with my sister. Except, I am viewing the commercial without seening anything else around me. This commercial comes on. We sit there, watching. It's one of those teen targeted advertisements that we have all seen before. You know, it's a group of teenage males coming home from school or shooting hoops or whatever boys do. They're all hyper and high fiving one another, and man, they are thirsty! So they all grab beverages out of the fridge. Mom approves with that "boys will be boys" expression. They quench they thirst.

Then the leader of the group unzips his pants and urinates all over the linoleum. His friends follow his example. Then, all of a sudden, this super absorbant toilet paper immediately begins to soak up all the mess all on it's own. (I wonder if mom approved of that?!)

For some reason, this commercial infuriated me. I turned to my sister and snapped, "What kind of commercial is that!? Who thinks that's good advertising?!"

The commericial was over and the regular scheduled programming came on the tube. Ah, the CTV nightly news! Instead of the dapper Lloyd Robinson, it was read by a surprisingly polite David Allan Coe. David wore a cornflower blue silky shirt, had his hair held back in a clip, and had a loose choker type tie around his neck. He did such a good job at reading the headlines in soft Southern accent that I forgot how mad I was about the commercial.

14 May 2006

At least I Amuse Myself

As I sit here tonight, my significant other is participating in a rock with his cock out event - the Yngwie Malmsteen show. It took me awhile to spell his name correctly. Saying it is another story. It comes out sounding like U-Wingie Mahhlmstream. No, he doesn't really like Wingie's sizzling guitar licks, fluffy pirate shirts and too-small leather pants. He simply received an invitation to go, from a friend who acquired a free ticket. I feel I must explain that.

It's a quiet evening. I no longer feel like I am falling apart. My body has been strange, my mind has been negatively occupied with tragic thoughts of missing home and the stress of stretched finances. I chalk it up to being female.

It's funny how your inner mood affects your physical state of being. My teeth no longer hurt, thanks to the magical touch of Dr. Willie (Heh, when Dr. Willie says "open wide", you can't help but chuckle). However, my body is reacting to stress in a few ways. My neck has been sore and stiff all week, sending a slow and dull ache down my arm. My earlobe with the flesh tunnel piercing became infected after having it for a good six or seven years. It wasn't a severe infection, which I am grateful for. Though the infection is on its way out, there is no way I can put my flesh tunnel back in my ear which disappoints me. Eventually, I will have to get it restretched to fit it back in properly because I honestly don't think it will budge if I do it on my own with no tools. I don't think it's very sterile to stretch it with one of my partner's drill bits.

Speaking of drills, I read a news article online that made me laugh and shake my head. Before I go into it, I remind you that I laugh at this man's sheer stupidity and not for the victim. Somewhere in Alberta, this man saw something on television and decided to try it out at home. He attached a toy brush or something along that lines onto his power drill. Then, he proceeded to turn the power drill on and brush his then girlfriend's hair...while she was sleeping. It ended up ripping chunks of her hair out and scalping the poor girl. He tried it out on himself before and it ripped out some of his hair, but something actually possessed this man to try it out one more time. On the head of his sleeping girlfriend. What a complete loser.

In other interesting Canadian online news, an American hunter shot and killed the world's only naturally crossbred Polar/Grizzly bear in the North West Territories. He did have a license to kill the Polar bear (even though due to global warming, they'll probably go extinct within 25 years) and didn't realize exactly what he shot until the poor creature was dead. Some people believe he should be charged for killing this Polargrizz, since the license what exclusively for the Polar type. Though bear sex (I feel strange saying the words "bear copulation" and the term "porking" is just not appropriate) between a Polar and Grizzly is apparently not so unusual in captivity, this is the first time one has been found in the wild. Now, it's dead. Rest in peace, Polargrizz. Or, as I like to title it, Grizzlar. Maybe that explains the Polar bear that's on the island on the hit television show "Lost".

Some of you are reading this and wondering, what difference do these news tidbits make in the Rural Female's daily life? The answer is simple, my friends. I would rather feel like a fact-filled nerd than severely unemployed. I'm filling myself up on wacky facts, newsbites, and programs about nature's own crime fighters - the insects at Tennessee's forensics "body farm". Lately, I'm like Cliffy Claven...sans moustache, avec boobs. Yeah, I'm probably annoying my partner but my sheer beauty makes up for it, haha.

Let me be annoying, I say! At least I now know laetrile from apricot pits can liberate cyanide if consumed. Now, I can sleep at night.

07 May 2006

April 2006 Books

While work was wrapping up, I took it easy and took my time with books. There's really no rush when it comes down to reading, right?

1) Portnoy's Complaint - Philip Roth
I picked this up at the used book store for under a buck. I read it well over a month ago, so forgive me for my short description. It was such a witty read. It had me laughing along within a handful of pages. It's sarcastically witty, jaded and bitter, and very amusing. I enjoyed Roth's style of writing and was thoroughly entertained with Portnoy's dialogue. I highly recommend this read, as long as you don't mind the commentary about his father's never ending battle with constipation, his mother's nagging and guilt inducing ways, and Portnoy's relationship with self pleasure.

2) The Secret Lives of Bees - Sue Monk Kidd
This book was also picked up at the used book store down the street. It was a very easy and basic read, and I flew through it very quickly. I enjoyed it even though there was a sense that it was written for the masses. If you disregard that observation, it's a sweet and somewhat sad story about a young caucasian girl who befriends a strong group of Afro-American women by sheer coincidence. The power of the female bond and relationship, to sum it up. I read some reviews on Amazon.com and though most people give it high reviews, one Afro-American woman's review made perfect sense. If it was really down south back in 60's when racial tensions were high, this young white girl would probably not be hanging around a group of open armed Afro-American women. They probably wouldn't risk their safety by being in the public's eye, with a white girl in tow. And certainly, a young black man would not be driving around with this white girl without something terribly wrong to occur. I guess in that sense, the story is a tad unrealistic for that era.


3) Subversive Cross Stitch-33 Designs for Your Surly Side - Julie Jackson
I love Subversive Cross Stitch. Not only did coming across Julie Jackson's Subversive Cross Stitch website inspire me to learn how to cross stitch, she showed me that cross stitching craftwork is not just for grandmothers. All this time, I thought cross stitching was all about cutesy teddy bears and positively quirky sayings. It honestly never crossed my mind that you can do something wickedly cool and humourously offensive with this form of needlework. I ran across her website and even wrote her a quick email, thanking her for showing me that there is more to cross stitch than teddy bears and home-sweet-home type of sayings. If I didn't run into her site, I would not have found such a relaxing hobby. I ordered a pattern off her website, in support of what she does. Accidentally, she sent me her new book instead which she said I could keep as a gift! What a nice gal! The book is great - inspiring, amusing, humourous, and simply perfect for a beginner at sassy cross stitch. It has many sayings like "Babies Suck", "Happy Fucking Holidays", and "Homo Sweet Homo". And I have to say, I think the coolest thing about her book is that she honestly encourages you to go out and try something new on your own instead of following her patterns. I just love Subversive Cross Stitch! I'll post a pic of the pattern I ordered and will complete in the near future.

Favourite Book of April?
Subversive Cross Stitch by Julie Jackson!

06 May 2006

Biotherm Acnopur and Source Therapie Review


I’ve always had not so nice skin. I’ve tried many different cleansers, products, and dermatologist recommended medications. In my late teens, I drew the line at committing to be on birth control and Accutane. I figured I would rather suffer with bad skin than mess something up within me on a larger scale. That’s not to say I am content with my skin, by any means. In fact, it is the one physical feature about me that I am most self conscious of. I’m close to thirty years old and still suffer from scarring acne – I’m not proud to state that. While the rest of me is quite adult, my skin chooses to stay in the state of self esteem deflating junior high school days.

I decided to bite the bullet and shop behind the counter for once. Instead of shopping for face soap, I went in search of facial products. It’s about time I tried something new, after too many unsatisfied experiences with skincare products that hurt my sensitive skin rather than heal.

I’m pretty skeptical when it comes to my skin. Not only is it acne prone, but it is sensitive and normal to dry. It seems that most skincare companies have great products for acne prone skin but only if you experience oily skin. Those products are harsh and damaging to skin like mine and to most people with sensitive skin. They are strong and powerful, stripping all your oils from your skin and turning your face into one giant patch of sore and burning dry flakes. These companies make you believe that the only way to solve your bad skin is to use severely harsh cleansers and toners. O! The joys of having problematic skin!

I ended up going with Biotherm products. I heard the name and nothing negative attached to it. To be completely honest, the Biotherm skincare rep was the first person to approach me in the store and being completely confused about what I should purchase I went with her best judgment.

Biotherm has a line of skincare products for acne prone skin called Acnopur. They have a pore unclogging purifying foam, a clarifying exfoliating lotion, moisturizer, and a blemish spot treatment. I went with the cleanser and toner from that line as well as a little something extra to help with my slight scarring.

Acnopur Pore Unclogging Purifying Foam was like a sigh of relief for my skin! It was a welcome change from all the powerful products that I have used in the past. It lathers into a rich foam, which I appreciate. The scent is clean, subtle, and pleasant. It does not smell like it’s full of chemicals, like some cleansers for acne prone skin. From the moment I began to lather in between my hands and massage it on my face, I knew there was a huge difference in this product compared to regular over the counter face soap. I was very glad I spent the money on this product. It removes makeup gently and left my skin feeling refreshed and smooth. I felt very confident about putting this product on my face and even more so when I discovered it did not make my face feel tight and dry afterwards.

Acnopur Clarifying Exfoliating Lotion is, apparently, a dual action formula that helps exfoliate the skin, unblock pores, and eliminates impurities. As with the foam, it contains a “tri-active complex” of salicylic acid, an anti-bacterial agent, and white clay. It also contains a pure extract of thermal plankton. What that means, I have no idea. My experience with toner lotions in the past were much the same as with cleansers. I had no faith in them and was convinced the only thing it will do is make my face red, burn, and even more dry. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised! It went on gentle and my skin did not protest afterwards. There was no burning sensation, it did not irritate it, and it left a soothing coolness to my skin. Like the cleanser, it smells subtle and clean.

Biotherm’s Source Therapie is a pure spa concentrate skin perfector. I must admit, I was highly skeptical of this product. I don’t typically fall for lines like, “you’ll feel the difference in 5 seconds!” and “see the difference in 5 days!”



The product itself is a very concentrated and creamy blue gel, with an extremely silky texture. It is pretty pricy but since you are only using it in very small doses, it’s well worth it. It contains regenerating oligo-mineral complex which combines “highly stimulating bicarbonate ions with seven minerals and essential trace elements” – according to the product info. There is more thermal plankton and moisturizing agents as well. First of all, it smells great. It smells a lot like this deep conditioning hair product line by Rusk - Deepshine. It is a fresh, natural, and softly rich scent that is honestly so hard to describe. Second of all, a little goes a long way. You don’t have to feel guilty for dropping $50 on a small bottle. Thirdly, it works so wonderfully! Like I said, I was skeptical. I didn’t really believe the rep when she said I’ll feel the difference in 5 seconds or see an improvement in 5 days. Just another sales pitch, I thought. I was terribly wrong. Within those seconds, my skin felt so incredibly smooth. I’ve had troubled skin for a long time and it’s been years since I felt such smoothness from my skin. And that was within those 5 seconds. After 5 days, my skin was ideally moisturized – as promised. I’ve always had problems with dry patches due to bad products and weather conditions. This product did wonders. My skin is now stable – it’s not dry anymore, nor is it oily from too much moisturizing. It feels perfect, thanks to this product. It’s a marvelous skincare must for people with dry skin and/or imperfections.

Since I live with my skin, I don’t really know if I can see the difference. It’s also only been a week of using these new products on my face. I can confidently confess that my skin has not broken out since using these products, the state of my skin feels much more stable, and my problem with dryness vs. acne prone skin problems have been solved!

I love these products and was well worth the money. Highly recommended.

Sassy and Spotless


What a handful of saucy days I’ve had! I’ve gotten my hands dirty. I’ve been down on my hands and knees. I’ve taken cold showers after breaking a sweat. Oh, it’s no secret and I am not ashamed to confess – this week, I’ve had numerous dates with the notorious Mr. Clean. Or M. Net, as his Quebecois users label him.

I’m congratulating myself with the last of the leftover beer from band practice. I think I deserve it. (Thanks for the subliminal beer idea, Ren!)

I’m not a fan of cleaning. I never have and I probably never will. On the other hand, I don’t like living in disorganization either. I’m not really successful at cleaning either. I’m one of those people who stack and pile. My usual type of cleaning involves organizing one pile of junk just to create another stack that is often moved elsewhere. Nothing ever gets solved, as far as cleaning goes. It just gets shuffled and moved.

This week, I put my (good) foot down. I declared I am cleaning, goddamnit! I was bent on getting this place reasonably organized and spotless. It came with perfect timing. I think I needed this time to fall into myself and think. Think about old times, think about the present, think about the future, think about a few dirty thoughts, and think about absolutely nothing. I needed to just be and think clearly. As well, it took my mind off my dental pain (which has now vanished!) and from hating most people.

Half the house was cleaned while listening to The Dead Milkmen. I’ve been hooked on them lately. I liked them in high school but I have recently rediscovered just how much I love this band. You can do a lot of positive cleaning and reminiscing about high school while listening to The Dead Milkmen. I thought about good times with our group of friends, silly moments, times where we stayed up all night and watched stupid movies. The Dead Milkmen remind me of Darren and Richard. Coincidentally, I found out that Rich and Tara had a baby boy this week and Darren and his fiancée are expecting as well. Funny to know, we’re all grown up now.

A way to spice up cleaning, listen to fabulously swanky music while wearing a sassy skirt and low cut shirt. This is how much I hate cleaning. I have to actually distract myself from the fact that I’m cleaning with feeling sexy. The old man of the inbred clan next door was watching me clean the windows this afternoon. No, I’m not flattered nor did I sex it up for him just for kicks. I should have, for my own amusement, but instead I chose to cut yet another finger and hit my head on the corner of the wall. Hot.

I have to say, the apartment looks smashing to me. Maybe not to some people but to me there is a significant improvement. The walls have all been washed thoroughly, the clutter has been de-cluttered, and there is certainly more open space to help get a sense of organization. I think it will feel better in the long run, emotionally speaking. It feels as though I can breathe. My mission of cleanliness is almost complete. I have only the bathroom to clean, the bedroom closet, and the box of displaced articles to go through. Some may call our place stagnant and stale but I disagree. It’s humble and it’s our home, like it or not. It certainly is not forever but I can sit back and feel grateful that I have a roof over my head and one without bugs at that! By the way, during my rendezvous avec M. Net I only saw two creepy crawly things but nothing serious.

This has been a tiresome week of cleaning but therapeutic. Though at one point it crossed my mind that the easiest way to clean this place would be to set it on fire, I’m glad that I have done this (cleaning, and not setting the place on fire) and am almost completed. Whew! A big ol’ sigh of relief!


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