A hot cheek on Owen's belly...

It's early afternoon and here is what I've accomplished since 9 AM:

- Figured out how to turn my laptop on in safemode (that took me nearly an 2 hours to sort out)

- Uninstalled the program that caused the whole safemode fiasco (you dont want to hear the story)

- Ate an egg and some flax (not together - don't be gross)

- Went back to bed until the phone woke me up from some creepy half-dream where I was hugging the midriff of a young man who looked an awful lot like Owen Wilson. In the dream I was his mother and I was just him asking why he didn't like me to hug him anymore when we were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Jesus, that's sad - rejected by my hot son, never to learn the reasons why. Was I too clingy? Did I embarrass him in front of his friends?

So, here I am. Half the day is gone and I haven't made good on any of the promises I made to myself before I fell asleep last night. I didn't go for a long bike ride. I didn't return my very overdue library books. I didn't unpack my wet bar and make it look nice. I didn't take any clothing up to the YMCA thrift store. I didn't clean this place from top to bottom. Annnnnnnd I haven't started writing that article that's going to earn me that pretty penny I've been eyeing. Damn.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow will be gangbusters.

Sweet nothing

You know, when I was employed all I longed for was time off. I figured that an open dance card would fix me up, make me a happier more relaxed person. Well, guess what? No fucking chance.

I've all the time in the world and I guess I'm more relaxed... if by 'relaxed' you mean not wanting to get out of bed, ever. Happier? Pfft. Today, as I moaned about not wanting to leave the house I was interrupted with the most irritating question.

'Well, what would you rather be doing?'

Hmmm... nothing was the first thing that came to mind so that's what I went with.

'Nothing', I answered.

Riveted? Well, what could I say? I'd rather be backpacking across Europe, horseback riding, helping the poor...? 'Nothing' really summed it up quite nicely. The problem with 'nothing' is that it's not much of a conversation starter. It's not even a conversation ender, more of a conversation peter-outerer.

So what does one do about nothing?

Perhaps a little lie-down is in order...

I should be happy for her...

...but I'm not. At all.

Bon voyage, ma petite soeur.

If my stuff ain't tight enough...

go here for the lyrics. everybody sing!

This is one of my mother's favourite songs. She used to blast this song (she had the single on tape) in our big red van. With the windows open. As she drove me and my brothers and sister to school.

Clarence Carter played an important role in my formative years. Thanks, mom.

Back in black

Well, well, well... just look at me. Back online! Can't keep a mutha fucka down, fo sho. My dearest, most lovely and attractive friends from LONDON, ENGLAND sent me a darling little Thinkpad. They are just the best, all the way over there in LONDON, ENGLAND. Nina, George and wee Gus... you have done the world a favour. For real.

I am going to start writing. Don't worry, it'll be much better than this. It's gonna be goooooood. You'll see.

Last night I went out with my favourite neighbour. It turns out that I still can't handle my draft. Makes me feel young. We brought our laptops to the legion and got loaded...well, I got loaded. Fun. Except that I did wake up awfully hung over and there were a few moments in the night that I thought I was going to revisit my before-bed-bowl-of-lentil soup. But everything worked out super swell in the end.

Im equal parts bored and excited. I. Am. Such. An. Enigma.

Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated

I hate, abhor, detest, abominate aaaand loathe Fido. I have a strong aversion to those fuckers, coupled with desire that evil should befall the "customer service representative" whom I had the misfortune of speaking with.

They own me. I am powerless. I am filled with impotent, physical rage. A hex upon your corporation, assholes.

I am not alone.

hirsutus solis

cappucino mustache


This is the first time I've been on a computer in...well, just about forever. I know I owe many of you out there emails, etc... good things come to those who wait, I always say. There is just so much pressure to say something interesting! I don't think I have anything new to report...

I do have a line on a laptop. With luck I may just be online within the week. God bless. I'm unemployed still and I'm beginning to freak out a bit. I chose redundancy. I wanted the summer off. But I fear the fickleness of the great unwashed. Out of sight, out of fashion and all that. And maybe, just maybe I get some sort of satisfaction from working. I know, it sounds like bullshit to me, too.

I'm anxious, but. (Yeah, I'm reading Richler. What's it to you?) I cannot tell you how isolated I feel without the internet. For a web writer suffering from awesome social retardation the world wide web was shangri-la. I could communicate almost exclusively online. No messy direct human contact. It was awesome. I need my internets! Soon, my Precious. Soon.

I watched the series finale of Will & Grace last night. Yes, yes... we all know that the show has sucked for the last three years (maybe more), but the finale was very enjoyable. I wept and that was good. Great stress reliever. Even though I never watched Will & Grace, it upsets me that its over. I felt better knowing that it was still plugging along...still sucking. Why does everything bad happen to me?

Hmm...what else is new? Oh, yeah! I have a sunstache and it's devastating. What is a sunstache, you don't think to ask? Well, it's sun damage, a darkening of the upper lip region that resembles a full-on handlebar. Oh, it's a real affliction and it is crippling. There WILL be a telethon. I have to go back to work to earn money to buy tubs of lightening cream. It's a hard-knock life for us.

I feel I should apologize for wasting your time. But then again no one put a gun to your head. And its not like I'm making any money off of this. You take your chances in life.

I want you to want me. I need you to need me. I'd love you to love me.

You have to spend money to make...

Okay, so I went to a sample sale today and spent $96 that I absolutely do not have, but these things happen. I bought a pair of jeans, a strapless little sundress, a pair of green harem-inspired pants (not as hideous as they sound) and a fantastic vintage red clutch. The jeans are nice - they give good ass. And good ass is hard to come by, believe you me. It was fun to spend money. Spending money is fun. I would like to have more fun.

A couple of things: I fucking hate this Hershey Kissables commercial. Something about the way the cartoon characters are made up of Hershey's Kissables bothers me. It gives me a nerve pit in my stomach. AND I'm watching Letterman right now and not only is Julia Roberts wearing kinda ugly blue jeans she looks unforgiveably mom-like. Like new car smell, that new mother glow doesn't last forever.

I require a new lipgloss. M.A.C's "Of Corset!", in case anyone wants to get me an early birthday gift.

Hmm... what else? Oh yeah! Do check out what Doppelganger and her old man have gone and done. It's one of those peanut butter-in-my-chocolate-chocolate-in-my-peanut butter sort of deals except there's no peanut butter...or chocolate... Not literally, anyway. Oh, nevermind - just take a look-see: Vidiotbox

Auntie Social

I have been feeling snugly anti-social of late. I don't answer my phone. I sure as hell don't call out. I don't email or blog. I have zero desire to leave the house. I like sleeping and watching television. Law & Order is on a bazillion times a day, including Special Victims Unit in the afternoon which is kind of fucked up, what with all the rapists, sadists and child murderers. But hey, I'm over 18 - and how.

So, today I answered my phone and now I'm going to be an extra in a music video. I have nothing to wear and I'm pretty sure I've gained several hundred pounds in the last couple of weeks. It's disheartening. I am awfully unfit. Today I tried to ride my bike up a hill and nearly died. Not cool.

I had an urge to write today. Hurray! Mind you, it was pure spite that caused the twinge. I spent a full half hour fantasizing about my tell-all book. A twisty cone of perversion and vengeance, I would make people pay. Too bad Oprah came on or maybe I would have gotten started on that.

I do not inspire poetry or song, but perhaps one day someone will name a small domestic pet after me.

good news from craigslist!

I LOVE sluts ... I really do
Date: 2006-05-01, 2:53PM PDT

I just do. I love girls that doll themselves up, that love being adored and love turning me on the old fashion way - with tits and ass! Some awesome-ass high heels would work too.

Why is that such a bad thing? Why is enjoying a girl be EXTRA girly such a terrible thing? Is it because stuffy, ugly, timid girls feel stupid or left out and start bitching about it?

I'm not trying to insult anyone; I just want every person to maximize their hotness. It'll be different for everyone, but EVERY *hot* girl should dress like a slut. Fact. And you nasty, mean, ugly righteous pieces of shit could just go to some dark corner and hang there. Everyone wins!


But anyway, to summarize, I LOVE SLUTS! (slutty looking but still cool chicks also count)

this is in or around my crotch
no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

my sister got married

This is a cop-out, I know. My sister got married this weekend. I was the maid of honour. We had fancy war-time hair-dos and I wore a vintage Holt Renfrew dress.

The happy couple were wed in a tiki room at the Waldorf (i dont have automatic links right now and I'm too lazy/retarded to link manually - i will add later...you can always google "polynesian room, vancouver" for now). The room was gorgeous, the bride was stunning and a good time was had by all. Just ask the junkie who snuck into the can to shoot up. She took a moment to wish the newlyweds a long and happy marriage before she was hustled out the room. Good times.

Oh, yeah... I sang karaoke for the first time. Paradise City. Fuckin' G'N'R, man. It was video taped by several people. Since I cannot get to these people to destroy their film, I will have to settle for never leaving the house again. Good thing I have no real reason to go out. There is more to tell, just not right now. I miss you much.