Sunday, November 30, 2003
Things I didn't do
I've committed a sin.Repeatedly. Consciously. Unconsciously. With good intentions and bad. With forethought and no thought.
It's a sin of omission.
Mostly, it's not something that occurs to me. But, every once in a while, there's that little voice nagging in the back of my mind. That dreadful whispering that there is something immensely important that you should do, that you should say and yet you haven't done.
With each day that passes, it becomes more and more difficult to accomplish, until finally, it passes the bounds of possibility and becomes impossible.
It may not be the worst sin of all possible sins nor up there on the list with the 'classics' but, I think, it may be the one I can least forgive in myself.
Which reminds me of a poem I've had since high school...which says it in a little more roundabout way from a little different perspective.
Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and I dented it?
And I thought you'd kill me, but you didn't?
And remember the time I dragged you to the beach and you said it would rain, and it did?
I though you'd say, "I told you so". But you didn't.
Do you remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you were?
I thought you'd leave me, but you didn't.
Do you remember the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your car rug?
I thought you'd hit me, but you didn't.
And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and you showed up in jeans?
I thought you'd drop me, but you didn't.
Yes, there were lots of things you didn't do.
But you put up with me and you loved me and you protected me.
There were lots of things I wanted to make up to you when you returned from Vietnam.
But you didn't.
Anonymous
Saturday, November 29, 2003
blather
It's been a long time since I had such a good time with such good company. G and I, along with his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, went to the Shamrock (eep!), Woody's (in a search for some of the kids) and the Whiskey (which I haven't been to since 'Concrete Blonde' last winter). Although I didn't do any dancing, it was wonderful fun and good conversation. I do so love visits from G. I always forget how much I miss falling asleep with someone's arms around me. Well, other than my own or the dog's, of course.I ran into the guy who used to live across the hall. Strange little fella, he is. With a girl I apparantly should have remembered as she was going on about how much better she liked my hair it's natural color. He's in a constant rant about his psycho girlfriends and was beyond pissed off last year when one of them suggested that it may be him that had the problems. I concur. But good for some entertainment.
So much fun that I don't even mind that I lost my cell phone. I'd taken it out of it's case and put it in my purse and being so little and slippy it must have slid it's way out the gap in a long-awaited and oft dreamed-of bid for freedom. The lady at AT&T said I should wait a couple days, see if it shows up, but it's safe in the arms of another, presumably someone at the Shamrock. It's not coming home - frankly, given the type of bar the 'ol Rock is, I don't think much survives the experience intact. I'll miss all the numbers and funny nicknames I had programmed into it (Girth, Junebug) but since I'd actually completed my initial 2 year commitment *gasp*, I can upgrade to a nifty new one for shipping charges only. Once I get around to picking the one I want. I find myself unaccountably torn between flip-phone and speakerphone options. And, yes, mon partenaire, I checked and they just don't 'do' free long distance up here in Alberty, land of the oil and chinooks.
Some large hulking guy in a suit standing beside me kept doing the nudge and it took me a few moments to recognize John, part of a group of friends I don't see often and an old neighbor. He always had the most beautiful hair (there's that hair envy rearing it's ugly head again) which is now completely gone as of three weeks ago. I had to keep touching it to make sure it was really gone. And in a suit, no less. When he's always been the type of guy who looks a bit scruffy. And a little heavier than he used to be.
I've always had the biggest crush on John. Every year at the Superbowl party he shows up with the most gorgeous model-like women and stands about with a beer in his hand looking ultra-aloof, unattainable and wonderful. He seemed quite upset that I hadn't gone to the party last year, which made me wonder a bit.
Since I'd had enough Sols by the end of the night to 'throw caution to the winds' I asked him to dance the last slow dance with me, during which I told him how much of a crush I'd always had on him. Then, got the hell out of there, before he could have possibly reacted to that in any way, positive or negative.
But, you plant your seeds where and when you can, I reckon.
Day 52 v.2
Friday, November 28, 2003
random gestures in the direction of others
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and try to find some little thing I can do that day to make someone at work laugh. They're usually pretty stressed and spreading a little joy is a good thing. The other day in digging through my storage stuff, I found a vintage t-shirt that someone bought me, I don't remember who, I think it may have been SD...anyways, Denver Broncos. So, I threw it on. It being casual Friday and all. I walk in and the Denver fan immediately gets this huge smile and we get into a discussion about the shirt (it's the 'old' logo) and the team and, our hero, Elway (one of his kids is named after a NFL player, really). Later he came to me and said, "I'm glad you wore that shirt today, every time I see you, I feel happy."My work here is done. Too bad I can't just go home.
I went shopping at lunch to use the gift certificates. Bra shopping, to be exact. Since I haven't since the surgery in Sept '02. I've just been wearing sports bras. Anyways, having no idea what I ended up as, other than 'smaller', and knowing only that the last instructions to the surgeon before passing out were: "less is more", it was a bit disconcerting to learn I was an 'A'. And very weird. Considering I was 12 the last time I was that size. Little bras are so pret-ty though, aren't they?
Ooo, ooo and I bought book number 10 of the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. Bliss!
Day 51 v.2
Acelin @ 6:14AM | 2003-12-01| Oy... book 10. You are a braver, or possibly more masochistic person than I. I got to book 5, finished it, and realized I would never be able to claw back the time spent reading it. He should have stopped at a trilogy.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
lesson learned
We must not confuse hate with anger.Anger is a sign that we are alive and well. Hate is a sign that we are sick and need to be healed.
Healthy anger drives us to do something to change what makes us angry; anger can move us towards making things better.
Hate does not want to change things for the better; it wants to make things worse.
Sometimes, the sudden realization that what you thought all along was anger is really hatred can be a little disconcerting. And a mighty fine line to walk.
In other news....board meeting tonight. Looking forward to seeing the way the personalities work with the new people. No, really I am. Takes the heat off me - especially since the management company identified me as the 'bully' during introductions at the AGM. (C - treasurer, P - president, J - bully). I guess that's to be expected when you're the only one that ever speaks up but it'll be nice to relax and see how the new kids do tonight. There's a lot of anger in our building.
Anger *is* the word of the day isn't it? In regards to the building, I'm just frustrated. It's been a productive day, the blurb above is really just a realization, a bulb going on, an epiphany, a reminder for a 'work on that' bullet.
Plans to meet G tomorrow night after the plane lands *safe flight, big fella*. Shopping with 'P the belly' tomorrow to spend my giftie certificate before it expires next month. Birthday cake a couple hours ago has worn...me...out. zzzzzzzz......
Day 50 v.2
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
winter's over...
...for now, at least in the background. I'm tired of looking at it. Would rather be at the river.Labyrinthman @ 2:35AM | 2003-11-28| Winter's never over. Even when its summer... its just a reminder that winter is only a short time away. Don't mind me, off to go beat my brains out with a snow shovel. ;)
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
this, that and t'other thing
Cause I'm really trying to put off doing what I should be doing right now.Under the dual headings of being the last to know and one of the few things I've thrown out but shouldn't have Calgary bar allows customers to use Canadian Tire money.
Under the right back to childhood heading, Polly Horvath has just recently won the US National Book Award, for her children's novel, "The Canning Season". She lives in Metchosin, BC. Which is where I lived on the farm and coincidentally, where they shut down my elementary school last year, at which one of the teachers actually nicknamed me "8675" in 1980, which leads me to Cingular's new commercial, "867-5309". Sheesh. (don't try to follow the logic, it's 'special'.)
My logo from the band sweatshirt (remember those funky late-80's color schemes?)...Their logo was styled after graffiti on a wall - original concept, I know. The back says "guitar tech".
The band's poster...
From the left, clockwise - Little Dickie Downs on bass, PJ (Paul) frontman and singer, Mike the lead singer, Chris the spastic drummer and Rob the english lead guitarist.
And, last but not least, so Derrick no longer feels left out (although, I feel impelled to point out that he wasn't around in this time period but in 1992, instead) the semaphore sweatshirt with that damn 'chick' word he's still so insanely fond of.
And don't even think about asking what sort of 80's hair I had going on back then. (didn't I just say not to do that?) I used to wear spandex mini-skirts though (I shudder, really I do). Anyways, I find it helpful for me to be able to place a frame of reference around stuff, and now, so can you.
dinner...
is something made with eggs. And whatever else I can find in the fridge. Cause I'm too damn lazy to walk 30 feet to the Super Drug Mart. I'm thinking I may go the 'appetizer' route. Cause I have all that damn good spice from New Orleans.Nuttall *is* going to Blue Rodeo on NY Eve so I've bailed, no desire to see them. The Tomato offered tickets to Tom Cochrane but is entertaining clients that night so I've bailed on that too. I think I may just be able to get away with the office party (which should be a total blast, on the 6th) and the 12 Hours of Christmas, on the 19th - a tradition, and a damn good one at that.
And G's here this weekend. *waving*
I spent a lot of time in the bat cave (it really is pretty dark in there) today saying, "That's not my job." Until someone finally snapped and yelled, "What the hell do you do anyways?" "Well, shit, I don't know but someone HIRED me to do it!" *snicker*
Missing work yesterday just totally threw off my groove.
They cleaned the carpets on the weekend and I walked in this morning thinking what a mess it was. I think that the machine probably leaked and every time the guy moved it, it's left a 8 inch round stain on the carpet. Every 6 feet or so. Everywhere. I made a comment that it looked like a herd of puppies had been through the place and then spent the day being subjected to T1 (my VP) pretending to pee on the floor.
Then they got into their 'flying for business' stories. I laughed until I cried at the one about the 'eccentric millionaire' beside T1 on a flight that had a separate seat (in business class, no less) for a big teddy bear. One of the stewardesses went to move it and he stood up and yelled, "I paid for his seat, don't touch him!" And he really had paid for the bear to have it's own seat.
There were the emails discussing what they'd do to the guy who's on vacation. Poor little SD, he's had to cancel his vacation three times, his house got cleaned out two days before he left and he was so stressed out I swear he would lock himself in his office and cry. Cooler heads (mine) did not prevail, and on Friday they're drywalling his office shut.
Until I have enough stuff to link to for the "this time last year", I'll just be randomly injecting it into posts, although (and mon partenaire should be able to back this up *glare - it's rel-a-tive*) the end of the weenor saga had signalled the beginning of a pretty quiet time for me, this is the final portion of the story started below....
Alone, blessedly quiet and still for the first time in what feels like an age.
We are problem-solving creatures, and sometimes when no problems exist, we create some so we have somthing to solve. Because if we didn't, we would be forced to confront the echoing stillness beneath all the noise and confusion, which was terrifying because it was unfamiliar. But it only seems like emptiness at first. Eventually, gradually, you realize it is everything.
Tuning the radio to something worldless and slow, opening the window and wrapping up in a comforter with a mug of gently steaming rea. Still as a mouse, leisurely drifting in and out, savoring the absence of others. Just for an hour, under the surface, dreaming, floating through a delectably lazy time, free of all woes, saturated with a sense of voluptuous irresponsibility. Then slowly, emerging into wakefulness again.
Nothing jars my slow ascent back into the world. When I finally urge myself into a sitting position, gingerly setting my feet on the floor and running my fingers through my matted hair, it feels almost like a crime.
And then I smile, because I'm home again.
Monday, November 24, 2003
oops
I blame it all on daytime tv. I really do.It seemed like a good idea to dig through some of my stuff from storage. And, man, I can't believe the stuff I've kept. I've got an entire bag of bar coasters. I'm serious. Letters and cards from people who I have absolutely no recollection of. My memory has always been sub par, but....
And this, written on a bar napkin, by Colleen. Which made me laugh so hard the dog started looking concerned....
Hallowed be thy name is Rob
Thy pail come
Thy castle will be done
Carlton Club be thy name.
Give us this day our daily pail
Lead us not into temptation
Forgive those who try to outdrink us
For thine is the castle, the drink and the hangover
Forever and ever, amen.
I'm assuming the bartender's name was Rob at that time and they had $6.95 buckets of Long Island Ice Teas, so the deal was to drink enough pails to build a good sized sand castle, before walking the breakwater. You know, I still have about 10 of the damn things. I keep nails and tealights in them in the cupboards.
I should send that to her. Although I probably won't.
I also found a lot of the band stuff, but strangely only the one letter from Paul from the Yellowknife trip. Sent in May 1989 (and added to soundbites for keeping). So long ago. And a letter from Rich in Jan of 1993 that said that - sans Paul - they'd been recording. If there was any other way to get Rich's number than to call Paul, I would, I'd give a toe or two to have a copy of that recording.
Well, I managed to hurt my back somehow yesterday. So, I'm just back from being pounded to death at the massagists (is that a word?) and sitting drinking lots of water before heading off for a hot bath.
In the continuing saga of my previous workplace, after it taking 15 months to wrestle my pension from them (after being told repeatedly I didn't have a pension), and my bank 'forgetting' to tell me the money had arrived Oct 20th, I have finally made an appointment to go in and decide what to do with it. I'd very much love to have it. In my hot little hand. But, alas, the powers that be have decreed that it is uncashable and must be locked in elsewhere. But where? A quick scoot through a banking site has convinced me only that it's all too hopelessly confusing. The best I could figure was a GIC. For the longest term they've got. I mean, it's not like I can touch it until I retire anyways...... Anyone got any other suggestions?
And, not being able to sleep last night, I *did* get up and look for Paul on the internet. His address is listed as 'bsmt'. That makes me wonder if he's still married. I mean, after 9 years of marriage, wouldn't you be living in a house of your own? The impulse to call is very strong, now that he's on my mind. Maybe I'd better go lay down after that bath.
Ahh, my player just switched over to 'Dreamweaver'. I love that song.
And, to my intense dismay, it looks like Life in the Hard Shoulder has packed it in. I'm leaving him in my blogroll though, just in case.
Day 47 v.2
Sunday, November 23, 2003
the past scampers like an alleycat...
You know, I was reading sassy the other day and she had written this. I like it. In fact, I like everything that she writes. And it made me reflect a little on some of my own 'wonder abouts', a little bit, before I moved on to something else.As I'm flipping through channels tonight, I come across a movie called, "The Princess Bride", and all of a sudden, I'm right smack dab in the middle late 1989. Just like that.
One night in 1988, my friend Sharon and I had gone to our local dive of a bar. It was called Champs back in those days- the kind of place that had concrete floors, bad bands and cheap drinks. When there was fight, no one moved back to get out of the way, they just merrily jumped right in. (it was one of those nights when I got my mug shot, but that's another story). We were there on a Wednesday night, which was 99 cent tequila night, and the bass player in the band, "Final Cut", was cute. We stayed after to talk to them, and so began a long friendship with all of them. They were just a shitty bar band, they travelled all over BC playing in the worst bars and we would travel about with them. Those horrible hotel rooms, even more horrible bars and the inevitable fights and pranks between 6 completely different guys truly did comprise a golden time that we never even realized we were in. My friends ended up dating or sleeping with different band members, but the frontman/second guitar/singer - Paul - and I were a little world unto ourselves. We never slept together and I remember at that point in my life, everything I did was designed to test his 'love' for me. To this day, I don't doubt that he loved me but I'm still not sure how I felt about him.
They had gone up to Yellowknife for a show and had gotten trapped there (something to do with an ice bridge) and Melissa and I concocted a grand plan. Paul had written me a song while he was there, called 'Blue Shadow' - (the recording of which -at their final show- has long since been stolen and the words lost in the mists of time and faulty memory), and I had missed him terribly. We arranged to stay at his parent's house in North Vancouver and went out to the airport to surprise them.
He didn't look terribly happy to see me. And the other band members were doing those looks and giggles that boys do when they're in the middle of something uncomfortable. You see, there'd been a girl that got off the plane with them. It took them a while to tell me that she'd been with Paul the whole time in Yellowknife. I thought of all the letters he'd written me, and the song and it was such a shock, I couldn't even react for days.
Paul and the girl were all set to go their seperate ways and he and I tried hard to recapture that golden, innocent time before I went back over to the island. But it was not to be and not so long after the band played their final show and it was all over.
I kept in touch with 'little Dickie Downs' and 'the dad' (Jerry, the sound guy) for a few years after that, but the last I've seen or heard from any of them was just after I moved here. Jerry, who was working with Rocky Mountain Sound, came here to do the sound for Moist and Rhymes with Orange in the summer of 1997. That was the last time. Rich had told me that Paul got married and worked in his father's landscaping business sometime around 1994. I've never tried to contact Paul just because some things are better left alone and after so many years, the memories should stay just the way they are, I think.
I wrote something in 1992 about how those familiar songs they used to play would never be 'just another song on the radio' and that I hoped that in 10 or 20 years I would remember and feel all those same familiar things. "Mercury Blues" and "Five Long Years" still bring a smile to my face as I sing along in my mind, hearing the lyrics that they'd changed to suit their "guitar tech" as they used to call me so they could bring me up on stage and thank me at the end of the show. I still have the sweatshirt they made for me, all these years later, it's never been worn but sometimes I take it out and sit smiling like a fool for a little while before putting it away again.
I actually called Jerry's number and looked for Rich on the internet tonight in a small bid to hear one of their voices again but too much time has passed and they've moved on or away to other things, as have I.
"The Princess Bride" was Paul's favorite movie and the first time I ever watched it, was with him.
All of the people in my life then, are no longer in my life now. And honestly, I don't wonder about any of them. Except Paul.
Day 46 v.2
Saturday, November 22, 2003
non-opinions...but, questions
I need to get more Sarah Harmer. I do.I watched a VH1 special on Michael Jackson tonight. Although I just can't see the spot where esch links to past posts (do you punkin?) I agree with her post that she blames the parents. I've personally witnessed one child who watched his very routine neighbor do the same thing for years before saying he'd been molested by said neighbor because he didn't want to get in trouble for doing something he shouldn't have been. He almost destroyed that man's life. And, on the other side, I've seen my best friend speak up. And have her father (what IS the word I'm looking for here.....) 'let go' for complete bullshit reasons. And, 5 years later, was allowed to adopt three more children. (and I'm seriously digressing here, but along the lines of why I agree with esch, after knowing what this man did to her, the rest of the family, my boyfriend - who was her cousin- and all of us - she went on to marry and have two girls who she now allows her father to babysit - the onus rests on the parents. It's the biggest thing. And I completely don't agree with 'they did it, you'll do it' crap -grow up. You have children and as far as I'm concerned, you have no excuse.)I try to see both sides of every story and I'm not saying MJ is guilty or not guilty but the show tonight brought forth the following questions, which may be purely media related (and don't get me wrong, I'm invariably impressed by VH1 but....)
1.) They had a family counsellor saying that any parent that would get their child to lie about something like that would have to be completely psychopathic. Like she was shocked that there was such a thing. Like it was rare. Hello? I don't get out much and this isn't actually my job but even I know that psychos procreate, in much the same way that trailer trash and even intelligent people do. Although studies have shown that the more education you have, the less children you have. 'Nuff said.
2.) Do police stations normally publish mug shots? Where's mine? On the other hand, have you seen it? He doesn't even look human anymore.
3.) The police said that the charges 10 years ago were not pursued after the settlement because the child dropped the charges. I don't know if the laws are different in the US but my friend in high school did the same thing. And the police said that once the process is started, it's up to the police to pursue them or not. No matter what the victim says. And so it went ahead. Is there that much difference between our countries?
4.) Do child molesters normally have to pay $3 million in bail? Or is that just rich people?
So, if you were expecting I'd condemn someone or another, well, I can't. He's weird, that's the one thing we can all agree on but using the media to pre-judge is horrible, in all instances. Honestly, leave the poor fucker alone...if he did it, then nail him, but all this other crap makes me sick.
esch @ 5:13AM | 2003-11-23| i never know how to link to past posts either, in fact I should probably hunt down my past posts so I know what the hell I was saying about parents being to blame (although I do think that there isn't much a child can get away with if the parents are Seriously paying attention. Not that all parents do, or even have to with some kids, but come on.)
e @ 1:55PM | 2003-11-24| several thoughts really: 1) I think you have to have a "permalink" or somesuch to link to previous posts, but I'm really not sure how to do it; I want to as well...and I've just noticed that you've got got some: tell me how???
2) If 12 year old boys are not permitted to go to a strange man's house for sleepovers of whatever variety, then trouble would not ensue. what was in it for the kid's parents, and were they totally wet behind the ears?
3) I think that bail is meant to be a sizaeble sum for the bailee, to discourage them from disappearing- so the amount has to hurt. It might be $100 for a penniless person, or $3million for a well-off person
4) People who are attempting to judge him are in my opinion: a) bullying him for looking and acting like a freak and b) full of schadenfreude- they just want to see him suffer. I prefer to allow the legal system judge people, using the hard evidence...
5) In Britain, molesting a minor is a very serious criminal offence. Once out in the open, there is nothing the victim can do to stop the case. The case is pursued on behalf of the Crown by various agencies. And that is the way it should be to prevent witness intimidation. The only way charges might not be brought in a case like this is if the victim confessed "before the charges are laid" that they made it all up. And then the victim might be charged with wasting police time. I trust that the legal system in the States is as impartial, but I have some doubts...
a shopping trip
So, I watched a movie to kill some time and then decided to go get some food. Food is good, right? Couple potatos, some eggs, lunches for next week. You know, the usual. I pay, slog back home through air that feels like it's freezing your lungs (I read that's technically not possible - although I did get my lip stuck to my zipper pull the other day - HEY, it was done all the way up). Pull out the groceries to put them away and notice that I just paid $2.89 for 2 baker potatos. I think, hey, that's a bit funny, I'm sure it said 79 cents a pound. So, I pull out my little weigh scale (hey - I'm bored) and it's 1.5 lbs. That's $1.18. And that pisses me off cause really how hard is it to punch in the little numbers correctly? Besides that's roughly 150% of an overcharge - what if I were buying something expensive? I debate going back outside - is it worth it? And I decided finally, yes, cause obviously today is piss-Jen-off day. And these people have done this to me before but I've been a little more flush with cash in the past, so I've always just let it go rather than....you know.I get all layered up again, go back, double-check the price so I know I'm not in the wrong, explain to the girl, she calls a supervisor who looks it over and then says, "Our scales are in kilograms."
Now, I'm not wearing my contacts and he's just a blurry stupid lump across the counter from me but he's just standing there like that solves the problem and *I'm* the idiot and I should just go the fuck away.
I take a deep breath and say, "I wasn't aware that 1 and 1/2 lbs becomes almost 4 lbs instead when you weigh it in kilograms."
I actually had time to mentally pat myself on the back for the calm, sarcastic and witty rejoinder because incredibly, it took him a while to figure that out.
Friday, November 21, 2003
temperature conversion
See, in my barbershop, before all the kids got married and babies started to appear, the hockey team used to get together on Friday nights to play poker. Newfies almost to a man, they let me attend as the only girl in that 'you're just one of the guys' manner that is so endearing. Inevitably they got drunk enough to sing newfie songs a cappella, which I admit unabashedly as my favorite part of those evenings. As I don't live in the crackhouse next door anymore and I rarely get to see the boys, when I ran into my favorite Hanrahan last week and he said, "My dear, we're moving and looking for people with strong backs and weak minds," I jumped at the chance to spend some time with them and offered my dubious strength for the endeavor.Little did I know, then, that the projected HIGH temp tonight is -25 degrees celcius. (for those of you not 'with' the metric system, that's -13 farenheit and yes, those are minus signs). The expected wake up temp is -22 C (-8 F).
Mulling it over this aft at work, I realized that most of the kids would probably bail on poor ol' Dave so I bit the bullet (being one of those types that does what they say they will, if I can) and called him.
He's picking me up at 9 am. Must...find...long...johns.
Day 44 v.2
Thursday, November 20, 2003
This time last year
I had this idea (although I'm sure I saw it somewhere on a blog site cause I have no original ideas - lately) to do a 'this day/time last year' sort of thing. And since I haven't had a blog for a year, well, here's something I wrote last year.But first, I think I need to set the scene...
You see, I was on 'hiatus' from well... working and then there was this ugly little lovebutnotlovebutcouldbelove triangle that took a quick left into hell and so I hitched a ride on a roadtrip with D to get out of town. Around the 18th of November. To Winnipeg. (for those of you not from Canada, think ugly, flat, ugly, cold, unhappy city in the middle of nowhere). We spent 10 days (me on some new medication that kept me wide awake for the first 72 hours or so) in a sleazy hotel and in the attached strip bar. D's best friend from out east, his girlfriend was a peeler in said bar. Now, this I have no issues with, but D's very very young girlfriend didn't think before she spoke and we spent a lot of our time at the back table with the mostly offended girls. Not a whole schwack of fun going on, really. Although some of my good friends in high school became peelers which I regularly 'ran' into (working as the only female sales rep back home), I have to admit it is a bit disconcerting to turn around in your seat to be confronted with the uhhh, parts...of someone you were just having a conversation with.... but I digress. I wrote during the entire trip and arranged it into a little story when I got home. It went ...ani lyrics (to indicate how I was feeling, as it changed) a snapshot of what was happening at the time, more lyrics, well...you get the point.
So, following, two of the in-between lyrics pieces. Cause *this* is what I was doing this time last year.
Some shows you have to walk outside to get there. We escort each other, but sometimes you have to make a break for it, carrying your shoes in case you have to run, wearing a coat over your costume.
Although, to tell you the truth, you can slip into bad habits. Once day, suddenly, you're slogging across the parking lot from the hotel to the pub barefoot, in your costume. You try to avoid the broken glass using the headlights of the 4x4's pulling in. So many of these places are dead except for showtimes. Then you should see the trucks move in, like a solid wall of maleness; you'd think they fill them up with testosterone, instead of gas.
Sometimes, I feel the more naked I am - the safer I am. If I play my cards right, smoke enough dope, stop reading, and try not to think, one of these days I might dissolve into the lights covering the stage, or into the smoke exhaled from the mouths of the men. In the eyes of the workers, the cops, the musclebound bartender, I am immobilized. Like a deer caught in headlights. A secret species. A secret country. It exhilarates me to walk through the crowded bar after my midnight show, the only female in the room, wearing a couple square feet of fabric.
A piece of oil-soaked paper strolling through a forest of matches.
She looked at a picture of them, standing three across, at a party the previous year. She was in the middle, and far enough away now to step back and consider that she looked like the brave one of the group; the one quick to laugh, chide, take a stand or take a chance.
But things like this - little things like this - revealed the flaws. "Your idiocy could fill volumes", she thinks. It made her wish she could change everything about herself, totally reinvent her personality, her IQ, her looks, her voice, her name. Her only consolation now was that few were here to see this act of total, unconscionable and absolute stupidity. The inability to be detached enough to let his behavior towards them go.
It had been an ugly fight. One of those arguments that blew truth into little bits then scattered it all over the place like a round of exploding ammunition. When they were done, there was nothing illuminated or resolved, no clarity, just a lot of shrapnel stuck in your face.
And because I sniped at nomoreozone :) for not finishing a past story today....when I came home, the third person had also left town. Permanently. He's the one I miss, circumstances aside, he was someone I would have spent the rest of my life with. I've found someone like that only once before in my lifetime. I came home with a better understanding of myself, for time spent away. I don't know what his has done, but I hear he's happy. The third? He's still got something that's important to me. Which he won't return. I still can't figure out if it's payback, sheer laziness and lack of concern, or something else. But, in the end, I think that the two that Ajazz left behind weren't worth all the trouble.
girl friday @ 12:33AM | 2003-11-21| I like it. It's raw. It's everyday shit with a few momentous suprises along the way, and the writing is amazing.
luckycharm @ 1:38AM | 2003-11-21| beautiful.
moi @ 11:53AM | 2003-11-21| geez, i'd forgotten all about the 'm' episode. here's hoping one day the weenors will fade for you too.
yj @ 5:03PM | 2003-11-21| i love the background pic. i miss dougie. i like this piece of writing (but you knew that). i don't want to remember where i was last year at this time.
secret
Is it just me or do those Victoria Secret commercial push-up bras without pads look really freaking uncomfortable?Not that I've ever worn a push up bra but.....ouch.
Someone from the 'old' condo board bailed off the 'new' condo board. Before the first meeting of the new board even. That makes me the only grandfathered member. Not a big loss though - one of the bitchbitchbitch in private, kiss-up in public members.
A pedestrian got squished outside of work today. 14th one (or so) this year. Which is a big jump over previous years. Someone should let them know that the ol' "they have to stop if I'm in the crosswalk" doesn't really apply when it's snowing and the roads are bad cause you know, the drivers don't drive for the road conditions either so the chances of stopping even in good weather around here are baaaaad.
Most of the division is working from home tomorrow so I'll be all alone in the bat cave playing with political poll maps. Sounds fun, don't it?
I found all the blogroll links - can I just say "yay"?
Whew, I'm boring today. Wait, let me see if I can find a good link to end the day with....
Vodka is bad. Or maybe it's just the contests.
dang
I must have updated the blogroll riiiight about time it began to go wackadoo, cause I lost all my new links. See, I add them to my favorites, check them for a while, (in case I randomly happened upon the one and only entry I'd find amusing) then when I know I want to keep them, I move them to blogroll and delete them from my favorites. Which normally works quite well. But now I can only remember 3 or 4 of them. argh. Gee, maybe I'll start using that handy 'backup' feature. ;)My phone rang about 8:05 this morning. The people at my condo management company (and i use that term loosely, very loosely). "EMS is outside, but they can't get in, can you let them in?" Suuuure. But they didn't buzz so I went out to take the dog for her walk. Came back in, little EMS guy in the lobby. I guess the problem was that they couldn't get into the CONDO UNIT, not the building. And, nope, there's no central keys. The commonly accepted *standard* lockbox for emergency personnel? Gee, our managment company never mentioned we should have one of those, when the on-site 'manager' left.
Here's the things I question:
-EMS fella said they'd been there for an HOUR, trying to get into the unit. Uh. Hello? I asked as to whether the sick person could still be alive. "Oh, no, it's not critical, but she's in too much pain to unlock the door." Um, sorry but if I were in that much pain (and not *critical* but with someone on the other side of the door with drugs) I'd be dragging myself across the floor with my lips, or maybe my eyelashes.
-We regularly hear that there's only 5 ambulances on duty (or 6 or 4 or whatever) for Calgary's millionish people. And these boys just sat for an HOUR? During morning rush hour?
-By the time they called and the police came to break down the door, it had been 1 HOUR 20 MINUTES. Then I'm assuming they carted said sick person to hospital and left the door open.
So about 9:10 I called the 'management' company to ask them to either hire a security guard or call the 'manager' guy to do something about this woman's door. She asked me which unit it was. Uh, I don't know. The EMS guys called you for permission to break down a door and you didn't ask? Oh right, cause you thought it was the FRONT door. And I didn't ask because 1)it's not my business to know and 2)I don't thrive off the private problems of others. She then asked me to walk through the building and call her with the unit number with the open door. Sure, honey, I'll get right on that. Except, I'm *at work*.
Scary hey? It's taken me a year and a half to get the contract the developers signed with the 'management' company. Our contract with these dip...shits is up in June. We have to give 90 days written notice. And with a new board that hasn't had to deal with her for the last year and a half, that gives me 4 months to convince them (or, really, just let them learn by observation) that we need to give these losers the boot.
Thank god it's almost the weekend.
Day 43 v.2
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
pls deer god
save us frm ppl who write lyk this. AND LIKE THIS!!!! NEWAYZ, I LYK HOOKED UP WITH MY BRO.....u ppl muz be wundering wtf is she doing? I've been reading other blogs. Apparantly, all written by ppl who can't typ, spell and wr raised on im. Pls, give me baq full sentences, proper english, good punctuation and coherent thought processes. I beg you.
Or maybe it's an attempt by the younger generation to have something of their very own? I wish they could have picked something that didn't make them all look so stupid.
luckycharm @ 4:13PM | 2003-11-20| I know. I've run across this too. and what I'm afraid of is-if enough people express themselves in like manner and they don't grow out of it, then it will eventually become the norm. Yikes!
snowdog
It's still snowing as we go out to have our morning drag around the block and this dog, oh yes, this dog, she loves the snow. After we've made faces of distaste and tiptoed through the melted puddles beneath the building overhang (because this dog hates the rain), we forget we're 15 going on 16 and *bound* into the drifts. Belly deep and high stepping as mommy tries to slog delicately along the tire-tracks, we stop every 2 feet and in a daring move, jam our face vertically downwards directly into the snow. Snuffle deeply (and make no mistake, if there's food under there, we find it), fling errant fluffs everywhere before bounding another 2 feet to repeat the maneuver.Mommy watches affectionately, walks along another few feet, and turns just in time to see us walk smack-dab into a parking meter. We stagger slightly and realize that we've got so much snow piled up on our snouts that our eyesight is severely impaired and deduce that we must shake our head repeatedly before bounding over to mom to have her wipe our face off.
We glare over at the funny looking man on the snow moving contraption who seems to be laughing at us, deciding it is not worth our precious playing time to attack, and flounce off to continue the diveandsnort mission.
Day 42 v.2
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
messages
I've had 4 unheard messages blinking away on my machine, since Saturday. And I have absolutely no desire to see who called. How pathetic is that? I finally got enough energy to check them:-one of the people I was supposed to go out with on Saturday
-some credit company looking for Jill. Since I'm only listed as J in the phone book I get a lot of callls for this Jill person. She must be in pretty deep shit.
-the treasurer of the condo board that I called on Friday. But I can't remember why I called her.
-the mechanical people who want to know how the heat in my apartment is. Better/worse? Since when? Since your report indicating that 86 degrees in the hallways and 74 degrees in the condos was normal, even though the hallways have no discernable sources of heat? And that there's nothing wrong in the condo where the guy has between 46 - 50 degrees all the time? And since you further indicated that (even though this wasn't happening last year) all this is perfectly normal and the only way to remedy it is to install a drop ceiling in the parkade and use radiant heat in the space in between? For oh, about 15 - 20,000 dollars? Are ya loose?
Wow, I really am snarly lately. Must find a way to get a good night's sleep.
Day 41 v.2
Monday, November 17, 2003
end of day
hmph, so I guess the long rant diverted the horrifying day. Wasn't that bad, really.but, dude, I have nothing to say today. Some nevers....
I've never been in a ToysRUs.
I've never had a manicure.
I've never read "War and Peace".
I've never seen that Rhett and Scarlett movie, whatever it's called.
I've never kissed someone I loved in the rain.
And I updated my blogroll last night, but it's gone a winky-dinky so hopefully it's be feeling better soon.
Day 40 v.2
Sunday, November 16, 2003
backstory
It's a pretty cool thing to buy something and then, a few weeks later, see the story behind it. The story is here.a couple sunday thoughts
It never ceases to amaze me that 9 times out of 10 my stone-deaf dog is standing in front of the elevator which opens.Question: If I have never ever met any of your expectations over my entire life, have you ever stopped to consider that maybe the problem isn't with me but with your expectations?
And, yes, I always thought that about VD, but when you look at where we met, such subversive mutterings would have been cause for hanging. Naked. From the belfry. Welcome home.
Day 39 v.2
Friday, November 14, 2003
burning question of the day
I watched the munchkin scarf down an errant piece of gum from the sidewalk and I wondered.... when mom told me that gum I swallowed stayed in my tummy for seven years ... would that account for my potbelly? Would the Belly never have existed if only I'd never sucked back all that double bubble as a kid? Could I do a knarly cleanse and have the Belly magically disappear?Day 37 v.2
yj @ 12:25PM | 2003-11-15| the real question is, can you blow bubbles with your bellybutton?
Thursday, November 13, 2003
missing Allegria
There was just a knock on my door and two frantic, but quite goodlooking, men asked me if the could go out on my balcony as they thought their cat had taken a header from the 8th floor. They call her Cirque de Soliel Allegria (obviously, for good reason). So, having just a second of rape/pillage/murder visions I noticed one of them, in his panic, didn't even have shoes on, so I figured they really were owners/tenants and let them in. As they leaned over my balcony, screaming, "Allegria!" "Cirque!" and searching for pawprints - I found myself thanking the pet god in the sky that mine was too large to fit through the railings. They left to search the balcony on the second floor.
I hope they find her.
luckycharm @ 1:29PM | 2003-11-14|
8 floors is an awfully long way to fall. I hope she's okay. I also do the quick murder scene when someone knocks at the door. Actually, since about 10 years ago, when a woman in my city was murdered by the guy there to clean her carpet. Just what you need to hear, huh?
away message
No? Well, I'll be back eventually...
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
actually....
I have to include these emails. Cause it was funny as hell. And even funnier when you realize these people are all VP's.Me: "Someone left an order request (******) in the last hour or so on the Grand and Toy stickie, but the number does not exist in the system. Please let J know what it was exactly you were looking for and what division to charge it to."
Response #1: "It was for my Lear jet. Did they get the shag carpet option added to the order?"
Response #2: "T, you flew your lear jet up to Nova Scotia to see the total eclipse of the sun, you're where you should be all the time, and when you're not, you're with, the wife of a close friend, the wife of a close friend, you're so vain, I bet you think this song is about you, don't you?"
Response #3: "Yes, and have you noticed he's wearing a scarf these days (albeit not silk - guess he paid too much for the lear jet)."
I think maybe I'm not the only one not getting enough sleep around here.
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
good intentions
I had the gumption this morning to do updates, make changes, add some stuff. And then...I made a vacation package spreadsheet for Mexico. Listing what each hotel had, pricing out the cheapest providers across hotels, early booking bonuses, etc. Isn't T lucky that I'm that anal retentive? I want the spa with the bathrobes, the balcony shower and the in room double jacuzzi. *hoping for big bonuses this year* But, maybe we'll not mention the less-stars pool area top-optional one.
And then, watching the snow fall, I remembered that I actually own winter-weight work pants/skirts so I had to go through my closet.
I finished 'Suicide Blonde'. A good example of using too many words to say simple things, words that I think no one ever uses in their mind when they have conversations with themselves. But, strangely, it suited the story and turned out to be quite a good book. A quote....
I like the thought of that.
Day 34 v.2
luckycharm @ 5:23PM | 2003-11-11| T is lucky. You are like my hubby. He does all the homework.
Monday, November 10, 2003
okay, I lied
I just have to say, working for a day, and then getting a day off.....is a wondrous thing.And, I changed my mind about the backgrounds. I think I'll switch them every month or so instead of every couple days and then sticking with my favorite. Just cause....I'm lazy...and effort stretched out over a long time beats effort in more condensed frames.
The new link down over there, GroupHug, is a confession site, so if you're a bit queasy, don't click on it. But, I find this one strangely hilarious.
And one final thought(s) about Saturday night....
The inevitable part of any gathering lately, has been the "how're you feeling?" question, that I both dread the asking of and eagerly anticipate the 'getting out of the way' of. The Tomato, who had knee surgery about 6 months ago, but refuses to stop his weekend sports, had survived softball season intact only to blow it out again last weekend in the first basketball game of the year. With my latest round of testing passed and acknowledged, he turns and looks at me a moment before he speaks. "I feel so badly whining on about my knee when really, it's not going to kill me, and I think about how you never even told us until it was over, and I wonder how you must feel listening to me complain." And, I have to think, it's so hard to explain to him. The best I can do is endeavor to make him understand that it didn't hurt. Not physically, apart from the surgery, and that the painful part was internal, emotional and something that needed to be dealt with privately. That I wasn't trying to shut them out, only come to terms with it myself before sharing it with them. And that it is such a different experience than constantly being in pain 24/7 that he shouldn't even be wasting a moment's thought.
But the simple act of that question being asked makes me realize that in some way, removing myself from the world this last year, has hurt them a little. And although, I think they understand it, I love them for making themselves okay with it.
And this may be a calculating way to think, but after experiencing firsthand how Todd's close friends reacted to him when he was at the end of his life, I know how much more important it is to have those you love there with you at the end rather than at the beginning. And while I hope I'm okay with the knowledge that that may happen to me, my intuition tells me it won't. My biggest fear is that what happened to Todd, will happen to me, and those people I so desperately want and need will turn to each other and say "Well, we weren't really all that close to her anyways," and then go on about their lives without a second thought. Even now, ten years after he died, the memory of those words I heard far too many times, causes my heart to flinch away and my humanity to curl up and sob in the corner.
And on the inhumane side of me - there's a tv commercial on now, with this woman who has lung cancer who worked in a restaurant where everyone smoked, although she'd never been a smoker. And the line that sticks in my head is, "My doctor told me I have a smoker's tumor."
I have some major problems with this ad. One, it's bullshit. Two, she's blaming everyone, she's made herself into a victim. And that may sound really cruel, but I feel I have the right to say these sorts of things. The doctor's don't know. Period. And statements like that from doctors are irresponsible and deceitful. It's like when dad got prostrate cancer and one sibling is convinced it's because he ate red meat and the other equally convinced it's because he smoked and drank. It's just because. Cancer is opportunistic. It just is.
Stop for a second and think about all the people in your life who have cancer this very minute. For my immediate family, which is pretty tiny, out of the nine of us over 30 there's four. This woman is implying that she, her choices, or cancer aren't to blame but all those smokers who forced her to work there. We've known for the last 25 years that smoking is bad for you. She's known all that time. So, why does she all of a sudden become this blameless victim? She's the one, with full knowledge of the dangers, who got up and went to work every day. And don't tell me that she couldn't leave and do something else. I've done it and I've survived and provided for myself, and I've pretty much come out the other side being something I never thought I'd be - content and happy within myself. And sure, it's not easy, but it can be done. They should have stuck with the Barb Turbak commercials, at least she didn't make smokers out to be consciously evil. And you can say that's because she was a smoker herself, but I think it's because she wasn't playing the victim.
*steps down from soapbox and goes to check what's on TV*
s. @ 8:23AM | 2003-11-11| I hate that ad, too! But its a deep, dark secret, because you're not supposed to hate actors who're pretending to have cancer.
Sunday, November 09, 2003
Sunday afternoon
I lay down my book to feel the perfect silence of the room. Not so pristine, for although I cannot hear the traffic outside, there are telltale sounds that the quiet is not inviolate. The dog breathes gently in the entranceway, where she lays on the tile to find comfort for her ancient hips and knees. I can hear a clock ticking over the rush of water in gargoyle Simon's fountain as it labors in vain to inject humidity into the dryness of the air.I realize suddenly that there are five clocks at the end of the living room. Sychronized in time only for a brief spell every minute. It makes me feel disjointed, as if I exist in five different places at once, rather than being present in only one place. One real place.
And I list in my mind how many things I've yet to do in that real place, before picking up my book and continuing to read.
moi @ 9:25PM | 2003-11-09| your life is just so much more vastly interesting than mine; cruising the streets, out partying or just laying there. kisses on your sunday bebe.
analysis
I shouldn't say really that it was a complete waste of time, that's just snarky of me. I love the people I went to actually see, although Nuttall was never around since he's a constant networker. Which is not a bad thing actually, as he was pretty drunk and in touchy feely mode. I got up to go navigate through the 'beautiful' people and stopped by to see him at one point, whereupon he promptly stuck his hand in my top and announced to the world at large that he liked it better when I had breasts. Then, he kindly introduced me to the 4 people standing around him who I'm sure were wondering all kinds of weird stuff. He was kidding, I know, but I'm sure they didn't. I managed to snag an actual seat along the side of the bar, so when I finally returned from the traumatic bathroom trip and recounted the story, we all shook our heads indulgently and move into a discussion about how nice it is to have had friends for so long, that when you get drunk and all your eccentricities become so out of proportion, your friends just smile and adjust themselves accordingly.
I don't know if that's a sign of great friendship or a sign of complete indifference.
I do know that it was bad in my case, and in the Tomato's case. As this indulgence inadvertently fuelled both of our worst issues. I am inordinately proud of the two of us for being there for each other, at least, and (so far) surmounting the obstacles.
I also saw some people I haven't seen in a very long time. "Didn't we last see each other at the Superbowl party where Elway played his last game?" That was, what, 4 years? God, and I've missed him, he's funny as hell, in a kind of shy way, as he does the 80's dances in his seat while we laugh hysterically and the kids all think he's just a loser.
Sitting along the side of the bar felt a bit like we were judges and should be holding up our little scorecards as the people passed by. M and I actually made the motions a couple of times. People watching is such a wonderful thing. There seems to be two sides, the young 20 somethings, who frankly to me, all look alike. Long straight hair, identical clothing and superior attitudes. Then there's the aging beauty queens. Who, either attached or not, are achieving varying degrees of success at catching the eye of the men who seem slightly confused as to which 20 something they were trying to pick up. Their hair is a bit stiffer, a bit bigger, their clothes are just as tight but they don't seem particularly comfortable in them, nor do some of them seem to have friends to check them for appropriateness before they leave the house. They are the people who used to spend 4 nights a week in Cowboys and the Drink, knew all the staff, had VIP cards, back in the heyday. And I guess I'm one of them. Except I have short spiky hair, am usually dressed in some variant of endless boyishness or business casual and am in the bar only thinking of getting back home to the feather bed and a good night's sleep. I had my fun, back in 'the day', but sometimes it's better to leave the party just when you're having the most fun. You know?
But, there were good conversations, I know it meant a lot to Nuttall to have me there and, if I choose to do so, I've reintroduced myself to the endless rounds of parties, wine tastings and functions that these guys all attend.
Since I mentioned that I'd be in Mexico next year for Christmas, it's been decided that I 'owe' 2 nights this year. Christmas Eve is usally the trucking company's brother party and NY Eve is either Blue Rodeo or Tom Cochrane. Although, if Nuttall is hitting BR since he usually attends the Black and White ball, I think I may bail and go with the Tomato to see Tom Cochrane.
I wonder if I can get away with jeans...
I missed 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' for this?
So, earlier I figure I'll scoot over to the drugstore next door to get cash then call a cab. They're out of money. So I slide my way two blocks to the Shell station, only to find that the money I put in the account I had the bank card for, hasn't passed it's 5 day hold yet. So, I slide my way back home, call a cab and then go 10 blocks past where I'm going to get to the bank machine I can use to get money out of the other account. With a very bitter cab driver. Who kept yelling about punching people in the face and the number of accidents caused by shitty drivers in this province every year.
Needless to say, by the time I get there, I just want to go home. It doesn't help that in a city of 1 million people with an overabundance of bars, they actually pack in about 20 people per square foot. 20 condescending, rude and not very attactive beefcakes with their mitts wrapped around glasses of wine. (uh, hello?)
And the guy who sat half on me and then kept slamming his elbow into my head...well, that's another story. After tapping him on the shoulder four times, slapping his back and finally smacking him in the back of his head to get his attention, he apologizes, cause he didn't realize he was in my personal space. Like, you thought that solid thing you kept jamming your elbow into was the wall?
I used to enjoy these things much more when I was a drunken idiot too.
Day 32 v.2
Saturday, November 08, 2003
venturing
Out into the cold. ... actually it's not that bad, and the buses so aren't cooperating, so I think I'll just take a cab. Lazylazy.
But, that way I can get dressed up, wear heels and not have to worry about falling on my ass in the street and I'll still be able to feel my feet when I get there. That'll be nice.
Tex-Mex
On your way? Safe trip, my little one. Come home safe.
I wake up at exactly 10:11 am and think, *I could sleep for another hour*. So I poke my head out, check on her highness and turn over in preparation to return to snoozy land.
And the phone rings...it's T.
"You know I've been thinking about this for a couple weeks and I wanted to see what you thought about going to Mexico next Christmas for 2 weeks with me. Not this Christmas cause that's not enough time and I know you can't afford it, but next year gives you enough time to save for the ticket and me enough time to find someone to run my truck. Cause, you know, Jen, that you and I have nowhere to go every year, we don't much like Christmas to begin with and I think it would be perfect. Plus it would give both of us something to look forward to."
"It's a deal, and I even have some money in the savings account already!" (well, cause that's a first for me in a long long time.)
I have mentioned before I love that boy to death, haven't I? Well, I still do.
And it's perfect timing cause Nuttall's in Mexico all the time so he can give me some ideas tonight as to where the best place to go is. I've been to Mazatlan, Cabo and Puerta are kind of beyond touristy and expensive and I would sort of like to hit the Mayan Riveria. Someplace with lots of things to do over 14 days. Cause it'll be up to me to make the arrangements - boys seem to think all they need to do is have the idea and the rest just magically happens. All T requires is a swim-up bar, bless him. And bless him further to waiting till 9 am his time to call me as he was up at 4:30.
What a banner start to the weekend.
Day 31 v.2
Friday, November 07, 2003
a poem
Rondeau
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets, into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.
Leigh Hunt
I love that poem. Nothing else to say, really, pretty slow, quiet, pizza and beer, bookshopping kind of day. Well, except for that ad I approved cause no one at the conference would return phone calls. It goes to print monday morning, let's hope I made the right decision. It'll be some kind of 'market saturation', that's for sure.
Nuttall's birthday party tomorrow, he called to see if I would be making a ''guest" appearance, made a date for the next Detroit game in February (which they'll lose, due to my attending, mark my words!), and apparantly New Year's Eve is the night I go out over the 2003 'holiday cheer' season. But the venue is up to him, not me. Although I'm hoping it's the Tom Cochrane concert, cause there are about 5 TC songs that make me just....stop....close my eyes, and listen. One of my favorite songwriters, that man is. Ciao, ciao.
Day 30 v.2
Thursday, November 06, 2003
today was 800 hours long
I know we're a relatively 'young' company and that most of the people in the Calgary office are quite attractive people, but who knew that there were little hotties in the rest of North America too? whew. Now I *want* to go the conference. And further, who knew that squeaky voiced call 15 times a day VP from Vancouver was a downright stunner? In that bigheaded make Jen weak-in-the-knees sort of way.
They've left enough fires burning for me to take care of that I'd worry the whole time if I was to go at this point anyways. But *you*, yeah *you* could have been on a flight today, and been shuttled gently in a cab with me back to town, or even taken a bus with the Houston kids right to Banff, ski season begins this weekend. But, alas, it's just one way communication lately, hmmmm?
And I am leaving work, going home and sacking out.
Oh and with thanks to NoMoreOzone the Gender Genie which uses some sort of scientific modeling to decide if you're male or female based on the words you use when you write. Well, they always tell me I'm just like one of the boys....
Female Score: 566
Male Score: 1006
The Gender Genie thinks the author of this passage is: male!
Day 29 v.2
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Damnit Ray!
I just wanted to let you know I got your email, and I am so behind - can't find the map to catch up to the rest of the world - but as soon as I do - I'll go check out the latest! Yay! And, you're welcome, although I'd imagine I spread the 'word' to only 5 people, at the most.
In other random nice gestures...the extra $15 bucks in my chequing account went to
Megnut in her commitment to race for HIV/AIDS victim support.
Thank you for sponsoring this participant in the 10th Annual Race to Deliver! Your gift will be used to prepare and deliver nutritious meals to people living in New York City and Hudson County, New Jersey, who are too ill to shop and cook for themselves.
Cause, yeah, charity begins at home, but I've already filled my quota for saving homeless people this year, so I'm ranging a little farther afield. And that's what randomness is all about.
Sunday, November 02, 2003
I love it when people visit
dude, the feeling is mutual. Backstory? Hmm, G is one of Joel's friends, whom I didn't actually meet until after it was over. G is always blindingly cheerful, complimentary, full of startling thoughts, great ideas and an all around fabulous human being. One of the wonderful byproducts of the J mess. I could go on, but really, I'm sure I've made him uncomfortable enough already.
And, it almost makes up for the fact that I wanted to go do this and eat here tonight with some of the lj people, but the whole package, along with car rental, I was just unable to justify.
ebay
Beanie Babies. The best part?The best way to sell a wedding dress? Claim people have died in it. The Haunted Wedding Dress.
peevish
2 things that have been bothering me.
1. Bike safety. It seems that no one in Calgary (besides the bicycle couriers, bless them) has any idea of this:
I don't think I saw one person all summer riding their bike on the road. Rather, they were barrelling down the sidewalks narrowly slamming into the pedestrians. Since I've known about that little rule since I got my first bike, it astounds me that an entire city seems to have missed it.
2. After saying 'hello' yesterday, the woman who came to pick up some stuff she bought from me on ebay, looks down at the dog and says, "Well, you're a fat little thing aren't you?" When did it become polite and proper etiquette to disparage a complete stranger's pet? Unfortunately, with the munchkin, this happens a lot. And it offends me deeply. Especially coming from someone not so slim and svelte themselves. Remarking that you think my dog is fat, being that that's a direct reflection on the owner, might somehow come across a little less condescending and ironically idiotic if you weren't packing around 50 extra pounds yourself.
I'm fully aware the dog has a fat ass, but apart from that, she's quite slim. She does have a lot of fluffy hair, and breedwise, the AKC states that a bitch cocker spaniel should be no more than 14.5 inches at the shoulder. She's 16. Which extrapolates into a larger body mass all over. As 'excuse-like' as it sounds, she really is big-boned. The AKC goes on to state that average weight for the aforementioned 14.5", should be 24 - 28 lbs. Considering that she's only 31 lbs, I'd say she's pretty damn close to perfect. At least according to the people who know these things. And, trust me, if you've ever seen her after a haircut, she's pretty tiny under all that fur. Especially for a 105 year old woman.
So, please, unless you have any idea how old she is, how I treat her, the amount she eats, her general state of health, or have actually lived and interacted with us for a year or so, I would politely suggest that you keep your g**damned mouth shut and leave the care and upkeep of the light of my life to me and her regular vet.
Day 26 v.2
Saturday, November 01, 2003
witty emails from the boss
I just had Outlook 2003 installed on my computer. It has voice recognition software. As you will read below, I recorded a conversation I had with G and H. Two things are apparent. One, the software has a ways to go, and two, I've never sounded so lucid. I think I will start writing my reports using outlook 2003. The clients will either think I'm brilliant or completely nuts.
"some of you think it's called in here, you some incentives: 714-six . The end of the savings and loans and leases and one of the other end of the southern part because it has been up since I was doing the only male market for the public has been sold, but he's a different story."
He's been spending some time 'training' it, but he does have a point. I've been getting used to walking into his office and warning him if I'm getting within 5 feet of him, since he's got space issues and he can't get away from me within the confines of his u-shaped desk. I fear only that one day I'll forget and he'll spin around and brain me with his laptop.
hoops
I dragged some packages over to the post office to ship, and when I went to pay - my bank card came back expired. Which is slightly less embarrasing than coming back "insufficient funds", but still a bit sad. Now, I love my credit union (all 3 branches) but really, a bank card that expires? What if I'd been in Timbuktu? Or, along the same lines - Victoria - like I'd been contemplating for this weekend? (Westjet had a flight to Abbotsford for $35 and I've been T-sick lately). I know, somewhere, in all my unread mail, there is a new card, but I think I have to actually go to the branch for activation. Which, even in good weather, is a pain in the ass. So, I haven't activated it. Damn good thing I have 200 different bank accounts.
Not much on the 'ol plate today. I ordered some film with my air miles. I shampooed the carpets. I've drunk a lot of coffee and downloaded some Headstones videos. Sent a letter to Mom and a care package to T. I changed the munchkin's page a bit but can't access the ftp to download.....maybe I'll just go join her for a nap.
Day 25 v.2
