Sounds like...

I landed another story. Go me! I am digging on this whole freelance thing, I mean you can't beat the hours, I work for myself and my boss is totally hot. The problem is, as far as I can see, that you don't get paid for not what seems like months, but really is months. Apparently, freelancers should have enough money banked to survive for AT LEAST half a year - a year preferably. I fear I am off to a poor start as my chequing account is currently sitting at a shallow -$628. Oh, and there is that $400 I owe to my kind and affectionate benefactor aaaannnd the $100 I owe my dad and I won't even go into my student loan situation. So, yeah... It will take me a good 10 years to get out of the hole and then maybe another 5 years to bank a year's wages. That is if I can make some money writing... You can see the problem here, right?

You know what makes me ill? The amount of money it would take to give me a chance in life is what someone would spend on a new car. Now there's no need to remind me that I live a privileged life, that there are people with REAL problems out there. I am aware that it could be much worse. And believe me, I know no one owes me a thing. Yeah, yeah - I'm a bad person, I get it. And don't think I'm crying "no fair", because clearly this isn't about fairness. One man/woman's wealth doesn't factor into my poverty but really, it's totally not fair.

I don't suppose there's any way to redeem myself after this pitiful post... Well, I'll tell you this: I'm good in bed and I don't harm animals, unless you count eating them... See? How likeable is that?

Didn't this start out with a "Go me!"? I probably should have left it at that.

Charity case

Thanks to a discussion over at Vidiotbox I am now craving a cheese and pickle sandwich. What I wouldn't do for a jar of Branston right now.

But I will have to wait for my EI cheque. 2 more days! I have maybe $3 in change to my name and no real food in the house. I am craving luxury items like Diet Coke and Gerolsteiner and Hobnobs. Fresh vegetables would be awesome

For the past few days I've been making due with freezer scrapings (fish sticks and an ancient bag of frozen onion rings) and good old Kraft Dinner. I have half a roll of toilet paper. I have not been this broke in years and years. I hate it.

If it weren't for the kindness and affection of a key individual I would be truly fucked. Mind you, I'm running up quite the debt with said kind and affectionate individual. If I didn't hate pain and blood so much I would slice off my fingertips, change my name and disappear. Wait, I don't have a criminal record, so do I really need to disfigure my fingertips? I will have to look into this...

In the meantime, don't be shy about hitting that donate button. It's not decorative.

our stuff - our = stuff

Saturday was a hard day. I spent several hours sorting through the rubble of a past life. Jars of vitamins, hastily scribbled notes and receipts going back nearly 14 years were sorted into piles - one pile for the garbage bin and another pile to be picked through and stored in two separate keepsake boxes. It was the small incidental items that got to me, more so than photographs or love letters. Little reminders of a shared existance. I spent a good portion of the day trying not to cry and the other part...well, crying. Funny how much hurt can fit into a hot cramped storage closet. I've been been tapdancing on scars and snacking on guilt. The pain of loss caught me by surprise. I have no job to distract me, my life has slowed down a bit... so, you know - time to lean, time to grieve. Seems I won't be spared and everyone tells me it's good for me.

Luis is willing

hello how are you today?

my name is luis and i am impresed to email you, i really search for a nice and preety good person on the internet, and i saw your pics here and i decided to email you...

I really love yo pics and i am wiolling to be in love to you i really like you..

Well i am from brooklyn and i will like to know were you are and and i will email you more about you..

Did you guys read that? I can't wait to hear more about me! U...S...A! U...S...A! U...S...A!

They locked my blog!

Blogger's spam-prevention robots have detected that MY blog has characteristics of a spam blog. Yeah, I can see that. Ain't nobody's buying what I'm selling 'round these parts, that's for sure. And repetitive? You can say that again!

Now, whenever I blog, I have to go through yet ANOTHER stupid word verification. I hate that. Let's fuck with the robots a bit. Let's give them something to talk about...

rolex, slut, housewife, sperm, erection, cialis, viagra, xxxtra hard, hardcore, affordable meds, levitra, ambien, casino, phentermine, blah blah blah

You know, I seriously thought that messing around with robots would be wayyy more fun. Drag.

Night.

rubbah check

my body is not a temple. its more of an abandoned amusement park.

this morning i woke up to discover that the good old cbc screwed me out of $625 and left my bank account in tatters.

last night i scored the desk of my dreams.

the day before i sent off my first completed freelance piece in the last 4 years. it was accepted without any further edits or rewrites required.

seems the rollercoaster is the only thing still working at the waxpathetic amusement park. i wish some meddling kids would come and save the day.

who knew

Maybe I'm just super exhausted but Godiva's is a really good show. I just watched it for the first time. Everyone I know says it sucks. I don't get it. And hasn't it been cancelled? I'm too tired to look it up or even provide links.

I pulled an all-nighter to finish an article. I haven't heard from the editor yet. I am operating on 2 1/2 hours sleep and the remnants of mostly digested coffee. I won't look, but I'm pretttty sure I look monstrous.

Good night and good luck.

the tabloids have gone a "little far" with me lately

I know what I'm doing tonight.



We will discuss this later.

9:15 pm (first commercial break): Oh. My. God. She did her own makeup. She showed her business while crossing and uncrossing her legs. The gum! The bangs! The breasts! This is very satisfying.

9:27 pm (second commercial break): I am worried that one of her false eyelashes will fall off, especially with all the direct eyecontact she's avoiding. When Matt (is anyone else distracted by the fact that he's not wearing socks?) asks her a question about her marriage she cannot look him in the eye. However, I believe her when she insists that Kevin is simple. I can't comment on the awesomeness of his heart. If the pre-Federline clips are to be believed, she was kinda cute when she was young.

9:37 pm (third -already!- commercial break): Britney insists, "I am NOT a bible belt." Britney misunderstands Matt's questions from time to time. Britney abuses air quotes. Britney watches home makeover shows... I think.

9:50 pm (fourth -yawn- commercial break): When asked about driving with her baby on her lap, Britney explains,"We're country." Britney confides that the doctors acted "really funny" with her when she took her baby to the hospital after he fell out of a highchair. Then her voice dropped a whole bunch of octaves for no reason that I can figure out. Bumpy NY roads and paparazzi will make you drop your baby. It is my opinion that carrying a beverage and wearing pants that are too long may also contribute to the near dropping of a baby. Britney says that accidents happen and that her brother got into 4 motorcycle accidents when he was 14. So, take that. Her fingernails are partially painted the colour "Bruise". Oh, poor Britney just wants people to leave her alone. She is crying and now I feel kind of sorry for her. Damn her for being a human being with real feelings.

10:00 pm (it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings -oh, wait. it's over) Goldie Hawn is brilliant. Britney will be 25. She doesn't follow Kabbalah like "those people do". Her baby is her religion. This sounds like a religion I can get behind. Britney's bangs are shaking my new found faith. Matt wants to know what we think. Have the paparazzi gone too far? Oh, probably. I'm bored.

Insecurity is the new arrogance

I've been enjoying a brief bout of post-depression mania for the last couple of days. It's been great. The dishes have been washed after each meal, I had a friend over for dinner and cooked up a storm, I've been making homemade smoothies every morning and I organized all my papers and bought supplies to begin my freelance career in earnest.

See, the thing is, nothing good can come from anything earnest. As I unpacked my pocket dividers and paper protectors and dug around for a binder I could feel the over-bright, leg-jittering chemicals that have been blasting through my brain slowly begin to liquify and pool somewhere in the base of my skull. I tried to ignore it, but this isn't child's play, dont you know? If you ignore the ebb... Well, you're fucking kidding yourself, is all.

Mind you, it is nearly 2 am and I'm not even remotely tired, so maybe the good feeling will stay with me, just a little longer. It would be mighty white of it to stick around long enough for me to make my June 19th deadline. Yeah, that would be nice. It'sjustathousandwordsanditsthebreakI'vebeenwaitingfor.

I'll be 34 in a month. I crave intimacy like crack - no, like Hobnobs. Man, I love Hobnobs.

You know, I'm really very ambitious.

What?

He's got the look

There's a man who reduces me to tears with the way he looks at other women.

I call him Steve and I happily admit that I'd like him to be my movie dad as much as I want him to be my boyfriend/husband/luvah. It's the way he looks at his leading ladies that nearly kills me. Sad, sentimental, heartbreakingly warm - he is very good.

No idea what I'm going on about? Think about the way he eyeballed Clare Danes in Shopgirl, even when he was breaking her poor young heart... or there's his "my-little-girl-is-all-grown-up" face in Father of the Bride... or, ooh - how about the exchanges between him and John Candy's character "Del Griffith" in Planes, Trains and Automobiles? Remember him in Roxanne? And don't even get me started on The Jerk...

I bring this up because I just caught the last ten minutes of Cheaper By the Dozen on the tee vee. Now, before you judge me I am aware that not all of Steve's films are ...well, good. That's not the point. Anyway, the last ten minutes were chock-full of misty-eyed reflections, a monologue about the value of family and a nice twist that had Steve using "the look" on an old photograph of his wife. And true to form, here I sit blowing my nose, desperately to one day to catch someone casting the look" my way.

I cannot accept that "the look" is an acting technique. That would make Steve insincere and I'll not hear a word. NOT A WORD.

Party like a ROCKSTAR

Earlier this morning I picked up a bag of pistachios and one of these babies. It looks very much like a can of beer and so just to be fun I tossed my straw, cracked it open and put on my best beer-drinking face for the walk home. I drank deeply as I crossed a busy intersection and thoroughly enjoyed the curious looks people shot my way.

(Okay, so maybe no one really thought I was drinking beer on the street in the morning. Yes, maybe they were only looking at me because I was the only one crossing the street at that time, but let's not piss on my parade before the marching band hits the pavement.)

I washed back the last handful of salty pistachios just as I reached the door to my suite, tossed the can into the recycling bin and got right back into bed.

And you know what? I totally feel like a fucking rockstar.

receipt in the bag?

It's funny how the reminder of a $25 transaction - made a summer ago - can make me feel so low. I am not well, as they say. But tonight there is sadness elsewhere. The type of heartbreak I can hardly understand. My heart goes out and out.

man oh man oh man

I'm exhausted and frustrated and very very tired. I recv'd some good news today...It looks like I may get some writing work for a new magazine. The editor liked my pitches and wants me to write a thousand word piece. Yay me! I may just make some money in life after all.

This good news didn't sustain me as long as it should have. What does it take, for Pete's sake?

I'm feeling dangerously bitchy. I had best retract the claws and put myself to sleep.