Saturday afternoon I attended Vancouver's Annual International Tattoo Convention. I went last year and got a few wee tattoos on my back. I didn't realize the convention was coming this early and I was a bit bummed out that I wasn't more prepared. Meaning: sucks to be broke. There were many attractive inked individuals and more unattractive inked individuals. Some scary-ass Hell's Angels were strutting about. Why are so many of them so very short? I imagine there is a definite correlation between Angels and short-guy syndrome. I must remember to ask one of them one of these days. Next year I will volunteer at the show and see if I can't score myself a deal. I have a tattoo on my left wrist that I'm not overly in love with. I would like to incorporate it into a nice forearm sleeve.

Saturday night I was invited to a very delicious meal out at a very beautiful home in Langley. The weather was gorgeous, the landscaping was incredible, the finches were glinting and the company was exceptional. We took home organic vegetables, fresh from the garden, and fancy kiwi hotsauce from New Zealand. All in all a lovely night.

Last night I picked up a special someone from the ferry and we celebrated her triumphant return with shish-kebabs and cactus leaves. Super fun.

Tell me, why is it that when things are going well, my postings are so dead-in-the-water dull?

me & one of my wealthy guests!



american currency, too!

It's been a crazy past week or so. I had visitors from NYC staying with me for a week and it was so nice to have the house alive and full of people. We went out a lot and ate a lot and complained about being fat and hideous (well, maybe only two of us were involved with the body image misery stuff). Now I am on my own again and while I enjoyed having a little bit of time to myself, I wish I were expecting guests all over again. I will post fotos of the alllllll the good times. Just as soon as I finish photoshopping gleaming white teeth and a svelte waistline into all the shots.

A derelict kissed my hand this morning. He asked for change. I obliged. He smooched my palm. A fair trade, methinks.

But I sat back, and looking forward,
my shoes were high, and I had scored.
I’d bolted through a closing door,
and I would never find myself feeling bored.


I dunno. Things don't feel right. I think I may be heading toward a major funk. Unresolved, undissolved issues nag at me. I wish I knew how to do things right. I don't feel particularly healthy nowadays and I suspect I am growing stupider.

Maybe I need a holiday. But, I must approach the idea with caution. In my current state a holiday would very quickly turn me into a runaway. That said, why bother sticking around? This city hasn't exactly done me any favours. Sure, the mountains are nice and yes, I did land a great first job. But, really now - yawn.

In a way, sticking around here seems to be eroding my self-confidence. Perhaps that's part of getting older. I'm no spring chicken, but I have a few years left and I'm worried I'm sacrificing my remaining reserves of vim and vigour. If I don't act now (or soonish) maybe I never will.

I traded in an entire life to find out what lurks behind doors number #1, #2, #3, etc... I don't want to make all the same mistakes I made before. I want to make brand new and better informed ones.

Really, - since we're trotting out early nineties Brit pop - I wanna be adored.

This is fantastic. Reminds me of the good old days at the coliseum...

Today I had my brows threaded. How bizarre, how bizarre. It was interesting. Super cheap, quick and a helluva lot better than tweezing.

I have company this week. From the big apple, no less. I have new duds. From the big apple, no less.

It's nearly five pm and I have guests arriving in the wee hours of the morning. The place is a mess because I had to come into work today and so I haven't had time to clean. Life is hard.

I wish I had something interesting to say! I had a nice lunch with favoured company and it was only sad in small doses. Nice.

I am fucking dull.

Kisses.

It is Thursday and today my issue is "waxing".

I have been growing my leg hair for nearly a month and I am making myself sick. This morning I had to wear a skirt due to the lethal combination of diminished clean laundry and a waking realization of hopeless flabbiness. During my bus ride to work, I looked down and was confused. Where was the rest of the hairy middle-eastern man who had somehow wedged his legs under by seat? How was he accomplishing this and why was he wearing such cute sneakers?

Right. I had to stop off at Winners (cuz everyone looooves a winner, right?) for some knee-socks..and cool rubber high-heels and a couple of tank tops.

Good thing I'm poor and that all signs point to redundancy come fall! Well, let us not dwell on such misery. My legs are covered, my new tops are flattering and things are nice for now.

I love everyone.

Have you ever noticed how the sound of a sliding van door closing, when heard in the middle of the night, closely resembles the sound that I imagine a guillotine would make?

No? Sad.

Guess who won tickets to A Masked Ball for this Thursday night? You got it Park Pontiac! I am gonna put on a feancy dress and make like a lady for a couple of hours. And the tix are worth decent coin - $115 a piece. Not too shabby.

I feel sleepy and my house is a mess. God bless this mess. Adorable!

The movers were not cute.

I am exhausted and my new place is now full of things. I have too many things. Just having all my stuff at the new place depresses the fuck out of me. Yes. Depresses all the fuck right out of my body. It ain't pretty.

I have had 2.5 hours of sleep. I am functioning on a really big latte and a prayer.