Tonight, as I sat waiting the required 30 minutes for my bottled brunette to set, I fell in lust with a scientist. Dr. Armand Marie Leroi is a genetic scientist and superstar lecturer/teacher. The Discovery Channel is airing his three-part "Human Mutants: the documentary series" and I am watching the third part as I write this. The show is interesting enough, but I have to confess - the good doctor in his nice suits, great teeth and lovely voice is what is keeping me glued to the set. Time to rinse.

It's 2:00 pm and I cannot leave the house! It's a beautiful day and I can't get my ass off the couch. What on earth is wrong with me? I mustn't allow myself to slip into this. I have people relying on me. Yes, I know people, you know. I was so chipper last week despite illness. I know that going outside will make me feel much better, but it's just that transporting my sagging and aging body from here to there seems impossible. Impossible, I tell you.

I was reading Breakup Babe. Yes, everyone who has a Blogger account has gone to take a boo at this blog. How can you resist? The woman has landed a book deal from a blog. Why not me? Let's not answer that. I really don't want to know. But she did say something interesting about using one's blog as a passive aggressive tool to get at people whom you know are reading. Guilty as charged. I wonder how many others indulge in this bad behaviour. It's a fine line. If you were completely ignorant of your audience you would likely write far nastier prose without fear of hurting or offending anyone. Chances are what you write would be far more cutting than veiled and subtle attacks. I know I've definitely become vaguer and more guarded with my writing since I've become aware of certain readers. And I know I've also used my blog to communicate certain messages to certain people. Is that so terrible? I guess it could be.

Oh, I've lost track of what I was talking about. I have to get out of here.

a very Hilton Christmas party

The day started off fairly well, although a bit early-ish in the morning. I got a good haircut and met my sister and mother for lunch. And then I thought it would be fun to go try on fancy holiday clothes. Horrifying. Apparently, sometime recently, an aging hideous thirty-two-year-old woman moved in under my clothes. Everything I put on looked terrible. A dress I tried on a week and a half ago and loved was as snug as a bug (in a really bad way).

Amazingly enough, the only clothes that did me any justice were from the Hilton endorsed Guess store. It's weird. Even though I looked flabby and disgusting in many of the sophisticated things I tried on elsewhere - the super-slutty, skimpy Guess dresses looked alright. In particular, I fell for a cut up-to-here, scooped down-to-there sequined confection (shown above). Everyone agreed it looked smashing. And it was $350. I need to spend for a CBC Christmas party - not prom. So, not having even half that amount of cash, I carried on.

Each shop we visited made me loathe myself just a wee bit more. The only not-so-awful experience was when out of desperation I tried on a pair of Seven jeans. While they did raise my self-esteem - they looked fucking hot - they were $265. So, I fell a little in love with my ass again and decided that maybe, just maybe, I would allow myself to be naked with the lights on sometime...eventually. But, the denims were so insanely out of my price range, I had to ban them to the corner of my mind where I live in a three bedroom penthouse apartment, have a kick-ass job and where everybody loves me. I think they'll be happy there.


love thyself

To celebrate this adventure in self-revulsion I ate too much pizza and gorged on homemade chocolate chip cookies. Feeling excellent. Oh well, no big deal. Tomorrow I will get some fresh air and toss out the tempting left-over pizza. I will really watch my crap intake for the week and look decent for next week's holiday functions.

Did I really just write several paragraphs about feeling fat and unloved? Wow. A new low around here. I am proud of myself. My mother always advised me against "being different".

Perhaps next time - something a bit more...not so tragical.

I am on the mend. It is late, but I do like a good Friday night bout of Conan.

I cannot tell you how lovely my apartment looks right now. I put up some Christmas lights and they look stellar. I've been cleaning all week and finally its starting to look a bit better. I've thrown a lot of junk out. There is still more to go. Such a wee place demands simpler living. I don't know if I will ever be able to live sparsely. I like a bit of a comfortable mess about. And I do have a thing for knick-knacks, but I must watch myself. I come dangerously close to being one of those creepy clutter-bugs. With a little neglect I could find myself with 30 cats and an impressive Bradford Exchange plate collection.

So, yeah, tomorrow morning I get my hair cut. At nine o'clock in the bloody morning. My sister is coming along and finally getting a professional cut. She's cut her own hair for the past 10 years. Like a fucking Hutterite. After the snip-snip we're off for our annual Christmas luncheon and shopping trip with out mother. Fun, fun, fun. If we can avoid any and all hot button topics - like eating, sleeping, dressing, working etc - it should go well.

Colin Farrell is on Conan and this writing of the words is distracting me from the lovely eyecandy sprawling across my television screen. And so I say good night.

I am sick. I stayed up too late last night. I have swollen glands and my throat is very sore on one side. I am home watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade all alone. It's no fun to watch a parade on your lonesome. Sad. Help me, Rhonda.

Le Lapin Brun or Gallo's Nice Pants

I watched Brown Bunny and I was disappointed. Disappointed because it didn't suck as much as I was lead to believe. It wasn't good - let's not be insane, please. But I was expecting a boo/hiss-worthy hour and a half of complete shit. I couldn't even get angry over it.

It was a bit silly is all. Lots of nice shots of Gallo's fashionably denim-clad ass and trendy upper-body wear. His hair did a marvelous job. Stayed unkempt and sexy throughout. He washed his face. A lot.

Many of the scenes were heavy-handed and overdone. And, wow - has Cheryl Tiegs always suffered from such horrific wall ass? There should be a telethon for the poor woman.

The blow-job scene was actually the best scene of the film. And not just because you get to see Chloe Sevigny have a go at Gallo's rather generous manhood - but, because compared to the rest of the film it made sense and was a fairly realistic interaction between luvahs. I dont think Sevigny can act all that well, but she's rather adept at playing passed out rape victims. Clap, clap, clap!

Don't consider this a review - because really, who gives a fuck at this point. Trust me, the crowd at the theatre will entertain you more. Lots of haircuts, jaunty caps, contrived scarf-age and neat-o Converse sneaker customization. It was as if the Sunday crowd from Bon's Off Broadway had planned a field trip to the movies. Fun to watch and sneer and then to realize you are no better and look as pathetic if not more in your fancy raspberry boots and kneesocks and tattoos. A regular rollercoaster of superiority and crushing self-awareness. Entertaining, yes.

I am craving meat. And not even in a perverted way. Just some nice protein. A rare steak would be lovely with an artichoke with special homemade dressing. Delicious. I am feeling a bit under the weather. I should sleep. Heal myself, etc etc.

Slush out.

So today I went to see a movie that was almost as reassuring as it was interesting. You know, just a a bit of quantum physics on a Sunday afternoon. Glad I went to see it as it took my mind off of missing the Santa Claus Parade. Sad. And there will be more holiday sadness, I'm sure. But according to quantum physics there is no good or bad in life and therefore, no reason to stew in guilt and unhappiness. Yes, that's right folks, one movie and I'm adapting science to suit me.

Man, I'm craving a snack. I still reallllly need a haircut. I am desperately broke right now, but I think things will work out just fine. A slight banking miscalculation and a reckless purchase have, as we say back home, "fuckered me over" for a spot. But, as My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss says, "The weak only survive if the strong are weaker."

And hey, check out my nice, nice horoscope (for once):

Love, affection, and romance seem to be all around you, dear Cancer. Strong feelings of unity with close friends, family members, and romantic partners are likely to well up within you throughout the day. You can also expect a rush of imagination and artistic inspiration - perhaps generated by the support of those around you. Any relationships formed now are likely to last for a long time. Remember this day when times get tough.

Wow. It's been a while. Feeling a bit unenthused and I guess I have a lot going on. The combination makes for lazy scribblings.

Here's a list of things I've done in the past week - lucky bastards, all of you!

- went to ZeD/R3 party and wore a shnazzy pair of raspberry boots I bought just for the occasion

- apparently I had a pretty good time at the party in said raspberry boots

- the day after the party I went to see Polar Express and nearly broke down at several points during the movie (I was feeling a bit fragile and it's a Christmas film - give me a break)

- woke up Tuesday and realized I did something nasty to my neck (probably at the party)

It is now Wednesday and America's Top Model and Nanny 911 is on tonight. I predict that Norelle will get the boot on Top Model, but I fear I am wrong. I have successfully guessed each dead model walking to date. I suspect my reign ends tonight. I suppose I should pack it up, pack it in and leave the good old workplace. I apologize for being such a dullard. Not in the mood to entertain, I guess. Next time I promise I'll get out the good china.

I gotta tell you, I don't really feel like writing in this here blog right now. And yet here I am. I'll just lay it down quick-like.

I went to Victory Square for the Remembrance Day ceremonies. Very moving. Bugles and bagpipes make me weep at the best of times. Throw in thousands of young dead soldiers, still dapper veterans and a couple of moments of silence and I'm an emotional mess. In grade school and highschool I used to play the Last Post in assembly every Remembrance Day. Very nerve-wracking and with the whole touching ceremony-type things going on, it was always a major challenge for me. Yes, I know - just like the young men and women who fought for our country - I, too, suffered. Nauseating, yes. Anyway, it was a lovely cold and foggy morning and I'm so glad I went.

I spent the rest of the day trying to keep myself properly distracted - something that is becoming more and more important in order to keep my threadbare sanity intact. I had the fantasy of finding a pair of boots. This city has the shittiest, most dated footwear...ever. Just fucking awful - unless, - yes, here we go again - you can spring for a set of Fluevogs. And even then, still not curling my toes. I found a pair I didn't mind so much at the old Winners. But I was being stalked by this really weird creepy fellow who followed me into the store. Seriously disturbing. So I abandoned the boot hunting.

I tried on some party wear for Saturday night. Scooped up a nifty little tank-top jobby. Tried on fantastic tweedish pants, but put them back as they were just too bloody expensive. So, I have this foxy little top and no bottoms. I can always resort to going braless and slapping on a coat of lipgloss. Add many glasses of wine and presto mundo, belle of the ball anyone? Right, I don't buy it my ownself.

I need to do dishes. Sense a nasty sliver of depression wiggling in. My job to nip it in the bud - ain't nobody gonna do it for me. Gross. "I want my mommy" talk is so very unappealing. But wow, just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in my new fancy top and I don't mind saying, "lookin' good!" Oh wait, just caught another reality glimpse. I must go find some chocolate.

Okay, have I left out any poor-me-thirty-something-years-old-woman cliches? Loneliness, body image issues, shoes, housework, depression, chocolate...yep, I think I'm good. 'Night.

Kisses on your lipses.

Quick update:

All is as it should be in the world. I have indeed jinxed myself. Today has not been a better day. I repeat: NOT a better day.

Yet, I've been very productive at work. One less thing to stress out over later. I was offered a pass to New Music West which I had to turn down. Sad. I'm looking very much forward to getting home and relaxing tonight. Alone time is nice. I am learning that. Not in my nature, but I'm learning to appreciate it.

I ran into an old friend on the way to work this morning. Weird seeing people out of context. It wasn't awkward because it was a quick "hi" and "bye". Nice and painless.

I now have a "2-year-plan". Of course there is always I chance I will cool and abandon it, but for now it's pleasing me. I really think things are going to be fine. In fact, I know they are. Regardless of what happens between then and now, I'll be wearing a ski sweater and toasting my good fortune in no time.

Right - a new day and all that. I'm up and ready to get into it, so I may as well go ahead and jinx myself. Today will be an okay day - I just know it. Last night I started working on something therapeutic. Yes, good for me!

Blech. Feeling miserable and most ugly today. Dressed in some horrid all grey ensemble that made me look like a grim female prison warden. I've been a bit over-emotional and a bit mean-spirited, but still pretty fun. Yes, it's true, I can be a whole lotta fun. I swear it.

I'm very jealous because two women I work with bought the Fluevog boots I have duh-rooled over for years. They are retardedly expensive, so it's not so unreasonable that I do not own them. Over 300 clams, I kid you not - nearly half my rent. But I can be a jealous judy if I choose. Yes, I can.

Next week is the big R3/ZeD party. I have nothing to wear. I wish I were a better shoplifter. Maybe I could pay a street urchin to go lift me a fancy get-up.

Hmm..what else? I reckon that's all. I'm watching some Halifax Comedy Hour and it is making me laugh. Out loud. Alone in my apartment. Funny. Sad. Mostly funny. I do like a good stand-up routine.

Blech.

My Weekend (in point form):

Friday:
- worked late-ish
- missed Conan due to long torturous phone call with mother

Saturday:
- had a nice lie-in
- ate Pho
- watched Grey Gardens (fantastic)
- ate chopped liver on bagels and pickled green tomatoes(delicious)
- swallowed disappointment over repeat SNL

Sunday:
- posed for photoshoot at CBC (for hours and hours - fun)
- lugged a thousand pounds of laundry to the laundromat
- bought some nice cambozola
- realized I no longer had my apartment keys when I tried to leave laundromat
- freaked out
- called every small business on Denman to see if my keys were turned in
- called my landlord and learned that I left my keys in my apartment door (smart)
- ate some nice cambozola
- eventually calmed down

Currently:
- exhausted and craving a bit more protein
- I absolutely must clean my apartment, but I would much rather watch tee vee
- working on getting off my ass
- wish me luck

It's 6:15 pm and I'm still at work. It looks dismally dark and cold outside. I am very hungry, but feelings of disgusting bloat and spectacular laziness prevent me from putting together a meal. So, I sit here like a lump of shit. A lump of shit wearing a pretty nice shirt, though. I really should go out tonight! But then again, I'm tired and really don't feel like having to pretend to be interested in people. Mind you, I may just meet someone truly interesting... So very much to ponder in this great green earth we live upon.

I guess I could clean my apartment. Desperately needed.

Slush, out.

I'm the one wearing make-up 

Enough politics...back to me. Here's a Halloween photo. And yes, I did choose the absolute most flattering photo, if you must know.

Things sure don't look good.
Four more fucking years.
I feel sick.