My horoscope for today:

Self-image is likely to be a difficult issue for you to deal with, dear Cancer. Perhaps you have been painting a false picture of yourself lately. In an effort to cover up your insecurities, you may not have been very expressive of how you feel to certain people. This falsely painted picture of yourself is likely to get badly smudged. When you are all alone looking in a mirror, you may find that the person you see is quite different than the person other people see. This conflict in personas may cause you to get in some uncomfortable situations.

Why is it the one time my horoscope isn't completely impersonal, it's way too personal? Last week it was something about not hiring a plumber. I miss the good old days.

Mornin' punkins,

Don't forget to set your clocks back tonight/Sunday morning. There, I am now officially a humanitarian.

Tonight is Halloween. Hope it doesn't suck. That's about all you can hope for nowadays.

I had the weirdest dream last night. I was in bed with my grade 12 art teacher. It was completely non-sexual. We were in a really nice bed with lots of white pillows and wonderful linens. He was wearing a black wifebeater and I remember thinking how nice it looked on him. Now, my art teacher was not an attractive man, but this tank top sure made him look nice. Not sexy, just nice. He poured me a glass of milk, which I hate (I really, really hate milk), but it tasted amazing. As I drank the milk I felt beautiful. Yes, yes, nauseating, I know. But, I didn't write the goddamned dream. After I finished the milk, he told me to lie down and he started reading to me. I have no idea what he was reading - I couldn't make out the words - but his voice sounded lovely and so soothing. In my dream I fell asleep. Jesus, I have always loved the idea of a man reading to me in bed (incredibly corny, I know - that's why it never happens in real life) but with my frumpy, well over middle aged art teacher? He was in his late forties nearly 15 years ago. Well, whatever twisted meaning lurks behind the dream, I woke completely refreshed and calm feeling. So, who am I to bust a nut over this?

I need to go to the laundromat. Oh and drop 10 pounds before I put my costume on tonight. Wish me luck.

Ashlee Simpson gets a fugging tear down

If you don't read Go Fugg Yourself, well, I just don't know what to say to you. It's the only thing that cheers me post-hissyfit.

I fucking HATE public transit. Yes, yes. Good for the environment. No need to park. Blah, blah, blah. Taking a bus in Vancouver is the singulary most miserable experience one can endure.

Tonight, on my way home, I had to carry a large, awkward box onto the bus. Of course, the bus was late and packed full of pasty, cow-faced people. The bus driver asked everyone to move to the back of the bus. Fair enough. I tried to shuffle my way back only to be blocked by a big fleshy wall of stupidity. These hideous women were chatting near the rear exit and refused to move back. They wanted to stay near the doors.

Now, okay, this behaviour is acceptable if they were planning to get off at the next stop. So, I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and attempted to wedge past them to the small pocket of space I spied at the very very back. One of the women's ridiculously fat asses securely blocked my way. So, I decided to wait for the next stop to see if they would get off. They didn't. Nor did they at the next stop or the three stops following. I started to press the corner of the box I was holding into the flesh of the huge ass blocking my way. The woman shifted a bit, but didn't budge. She didn't even give me a dirty look. She just looked a bit confused and uncomfortable. As the bus swerved to miss a bike courier, I took the opportunity to shove it into her a bit more. This time she tucked in a bit. I jabbed the box into her again and with a pop, both me and the box were in the wee air pocket at the back. The large-of-ass woman didn't even look at me and went back to chatting with her two friends. I have never encountered oblivion like that. How could they miss all the dirty looks from the passengers trying to get past them? Jesus, how could that woman miss a pointy box in her ass?

The rest of the trip didn't go much better. I had to use both arms to hold the box, so I was getting tossed all over the place. Several strapping young men sat and watched. Now, I'm sorry if this pisses people off, but I think one of those fuckers should have offered me their seat. I could barely stand. And as a woman, I put up with men like that staring at my tits or looking up my skirt on public transit all the time. For that I deserve to fucking sit down when I'm carrying a great big huge cardboard box! I really wanted to kick them all in the shins.

Well, I have a Halloween costume. But, it's a bit snug so I guess I can't even squelch my misery with chocolate. Life is very unfair.

Monday morning. I am very tired. I have a lot of work to do. Help me, Rhonda. I need Halloween cosutme ideas. Last year I failed miserably in the creative dept...I went as a nurse. Just sad. Suggestions please. I will now return to my dark mood, in my dark office, in a dark land...

on da bridge


This is one of the few photos I actually had taken in the city. Most of the photos are from our daytrip to Sleepy Hollow (I'll tell you about that another time). We almost didn't do the walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and that would have been a real shame. The view and the company were so lovely, I actually forgot my cramping and unhappy lower back for the entire crossing. I got to see the Stature of Liberty which no one else in my party wanted to see. They misunderstood and figured I wanted to trek out to see it up close. Seeing it from the bridge was plenty good enough.

When I look at the above photo I almost feel sorry for the relaxed tourist lady posing in her new coat. She has no idea that in just a few hours she is going to get on the wrong subway car, discover that the air-train is down and burst into tears in front of the Cathay Pacific ticket agent when she is told she has missed her flight to Vancouver. Poor woman, she hasn't a clue.

Back in to the swing of things. Treachery at work. My back is wounded and someone's second face is overworked and drawn. Fun, fun, fun.

I miss NY. Pathetic sounding, I know. But I really do miss it. I was just getting used to the sounds and lights and was finally getting what passes for bearings for me. By my third day I barely noticed the smell of piss round every bend. Oh, one quick aside: One lovely sunny morning, as me and my friend Nina went for a stroll through the East Village, we decided to walk through an enclosed sidewalk. Thinking it would be a quicker route and nicely out of the shade we happily wound our way through. That is until our path was blocked by a fellow leaning against the wall, his pants around his ankles and straining to produce what appeared to be a slightly troublesome shit. Lovely. Truth be told, it really wasn't upsetting. I mean, it was a nice shaded spot and better there than in the middle of the street. There's no bloody back alleys.

And speaking of no alleys... You can do the most amazing dumpster diving in that city. Especially in the nice neighbourhoods. Everyone puts their "trash" out on the front sidewalk. I italicize trash, because when I was walking around I saw some really nice stuff nestled between garbage bags. Apparently it is such a pain in the ass to move things, people just toss perfectly usuable and often nearly new household items to the curb. NY trash really made an impression on me as you can see.

Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yes, how I'm pining for a city I barely spent a week in. Even though I've been warned that the city loses it's glimmer very quickly, I still want to live there. Even just for a little while. A year....then I promise I'll leave. Just one year to be in the middle of everything. One year to be a glutton. Maybe I'll do it. Stranger things have happened, you know. So far, in a rather winding and often painful way, I've managed to get what I want. I think...? Remains to be seen, I suppose.

I guess what I will do is write about different things I did while I was there. But not tonight. I'm really not sure where to start. I guess at the beginning. Well, I will tell you I got on the wrong train, first thing. Smart.

More another time. I feel slightly nauseous from licking buttercream frosting from the beaters.

Kisses on your lipses,

Night.

I'm back. I'm exhausted. Missed my flight Tuesday night. Very stressful. Bright side: an extra day in NYC spent with charming New York hosts. Too much to tell right now. Vancouver seems very small...and clean. I confess I did not want to come back here and the unpleasant events transpiring in the workplace make me wish I had not. The nice thing is that NYC isn't all that far away. I would like to manage another visit in short order. Perhaps while there is snow on the ground.

memory joggers for possible future sharing:

new coat
"thou shalt be ashes too"
keith richards
sleepy hollow
liverwurst
cannoli
beard papa
health bread
gaybar
deep thoughts at the gonq
free samples at nat sherman
dumbo
the bridge
century 21 insanity
beaver wax
the cheating girlfriend who gives away cats
movin' out
pickles
highland diner
heel clicking
bleeding clue
handy cathay blanket
nice sofa
nicks and chopped cheese
amys cakes
kitchenette

Oh God - i have to go to sleep. wish I was in the city that never sleeps (which isn't really true, you know. streets were pretty dead at 3 am)

90 minutes until go-time. I am sitting here with wet hair, a torn apart apartment and with suitcases yet to be packed. Not to mention, I have to deal with bird and cleaning of bird cage for the poor, poor birdsitter. I am freaking a bit. Worried about leaving work, worried about navigating JFK, worried about not having enough dough, worried about wee one in the car, worried about forgetting important things... I could go on. But, I won't. Lucky y'all. I will be fine once I'm on the plane. I love flying. I love the smell of coffee and heated plastic foodstuffs. I hope I am not seated beside a freak. You know, not once have I ever had an attractive man sit beside me on a flight. Seriously. Never. Ah, but who gives a shit? Atractive traveling men are a dime a dozen. And if a foxy fellow was sitting beside me I would be self-conscious about looking fat or falling asleep and drooling on myself.

I will have fun in NYC, you'll see. I might try to post from afar, but we'll see. You just wait on pins and needles, right? Thanks to all of you who have given me tips and advice about the big city. Wish me luck and good shoe sales.

Slush out.

Holy fucking stress-kitten. I'm a-freaking out. I have so very, very much to do before I fly out of here Wednesday morning. Terrible and amazing, really. I was going to tell you all about the Anniversary Gala, but do you really care? No, I didn't think so. I didn't do anything embarrassing. It wasn't the most thrilling party, but it was fun and I got to dress to the tits - really, quite literally. I saw Gandalf and that fellow from Cabaret. Oh, and Seth Meyer from SNL - not him, but his brother from MAD TV was there. He was wearing a nifty get-up. The wine was free as were the oysters, but neither really had the desired effect. I just couldn't quite grasp the party feeling. And the live music was atrocious. I mean, really. Fucking world music would have been better than the feel-good hayseed band they hired. Ooh, there was a table with some fantastic beauty product give-aways. I did score on that deal.

Oh crimeny - what am I doing? I have serious work to do. So many things to worry about. So little time. No word of a lie, yo.

stutterbug, stutterbug, shame on you.

I went out Wednesday - I went waaaaaaaaaaay out. Machine-gun chit-chat, cartoon frightened eyes and a royal tapestry with three cocks proudly woven into the fabric - this almost sums up my evening. Oh yeah, and Don McKellar was there.

My arms and legs still hurt.

You all go read the apple cored and leave a nice comment for me. I will be visiting the author next week - so go kiss her ass for me.

Tomorrow night's the gala. Goodnight.