Pull my heah...

This just in: I am in love with the woman who wrote this. I wish I had written this...this...manifesto. Yes, manifesto. I would have thrown in the odd "cum on my tits", but all in all -- these are wise, wise words.

Shame she had to go and add a disclaimer.

(thanks J)

Cole's Notes

Aiight, so last week I traveled to the UK to visit my dearest friend, Nina; her husband, George and her ridiculously charming four-year-old son, Gus. Nina and I tromped around London. We were kicked out of a Top Shop by a wall-eyed Russian security guard. We (I) bored a communal table at a fancy dim sum joint with too-loud, Sex-in-the-City-esque tales of woe. We took in the Vanity Fair exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery and dined at the Tate Modern. We ate fish and chips and drank wine (Nina had only a little as she is in the process of gestating a gargantuan fetus).

George and I drank silly cocktails at a Cuban bar, scarfed back kebabs at a Turkish joint (duh) and took in an Arsenal game. George taught me the offsides rules and how to take back my life with Outlook. Plus, he hooked me up with a kick-ass phone. Sadly, he was also abused by the owner of the best Thai restaurant in Kingston and took it Korean style just to get his hands on probably the most delicious green curry I've ever tasted.

Gus and I baked cookies, played weird games and split bunk beds. He also reminded me that no matter how heartbroken I was feeling, all I really needed to do is learn my shapes and all will be well. And finally -- Nina, Crabdab (the fetus), Gus and I walked the 10 minutes from their flat to Hampton Court Palace to take a boo at King Henry VIII's crib and poor Gus got a miserable sliver.

I briefly considered getting a new tattoo in Jolly Old, but then I remembered that I hate paying for tattoos as much guys hate paying for head. I know, I know - I'm a cheap asshole who doesn't support the arts. But you just ask yourself how much you're paying to read this drivel. Darlings, this is my art. So, perhaps you can see where I'm coming from.

I realize this is a glancing retelling, but count your blessings it wasn't retold in one run-on sentence. There's a story to every thing we did, but I'm just not in the mood for yarn spinning. But I feel guilty if I don't commit shit to 'paper'.

Oh, Christ! I forgot to tell you all about the brutal asthma attack I suffered on the flight down! Man, I REALLY don't feel like storytelling tonight. Let's just say that there was an oxygen tank and sedatives involved. I will tell you that the British Airways crew who were working that flight are truly fan-fucking-tastic people. In fact, I would like to marry or at least have back-archingly good sex with every single one of them. Truly. They were so compassionate at a time that I needed it most. I couldn't breathe, I was an emotional wreck and I was more than half hoping the plane would crash. They provided salvation in the form of hot tea, a powerful sedative and a cozy spot where the crew slept. God bless you, BA. God bless.

It's laundry night and I'm wearing my traditional laundry uniform of a pink gingham skirt and black tank top. Don't ask me why. This just happens to be the outfit I put on for warshing clothes. I've got to put in a couple more loads. Perverts.

Forgive grammatical errors, typos, etc. Or don't. That's just how I roll.

i just flew in from london and boy are my arms tired.

Arsenal vs Milan (kick ass photography by me!)


More about putting the jolly back in jolly old to cum...

Sweetheart Day

This morning I woke up beside the man I love. He told me that there just might be a surprise for me downstairs. Down in the kitchen there was a heart-shaped box of chocolate on the table and beside it I found a scrap of paper instructing me to look here and then there and finally in his coat pocket where I found a shiny new Tiffany charm!

Oh wait... that was my sister.

I woke up beside a box of Kleenex with a miserable cold, swollen eyes and a bleeding bottom lip. On my kitchen table I found a bunch of rotting bananas and after some frantic searching I found bus fare in my own coat pocket.

it's just a commercial holiday...it's just a commercial holiday...it's just a commercial holiday...

Give my love to Rose...

Behold the Nordic Ware Sweetheart Rose Muffin pan! Retailing at $35 in the US&A, yours truly picked up this cast iron beauty for $2 at a local thrift shop.

No, you don't understand! I've been lusting after this pan for ages but I just couldn't bring myself to fork over the nearly $40 to scratch this particular itch. I was so very excited when I saw it sitting under a table at the back of the store. There is not a single mark, scratch or baked on bit on it. Just in time for good old St.Valentine's Day-- I can bake me up a couple dozen dear sweet, rose-shaped confections. You can't possibly know how much happiness and satisfaction this baking pan will bring me.

Can't you even pretend to be happy for me? Have pity. All signs point to a distressing/depressing/lonely Valentine's Day for me this year. Let me eat cake.

What goes up...

Well, I ate and did my laundry and even did pilates. Now I feel like shit. I also just read my previous post and I'd like to know who I was trying to kid. Sure, it was a sunshiney day and yes, I did enjoy buying the dresses and yes, my trip to Capers was successful. My cab driver was nice and he did accuse me of being spiritual and friendly -- but still, I spent the day alone. And I don't like spending Sundays alone. Mountain views and caffeine highs aside, I feel like I was trying to create a great day. Don't get me wrong, I know that's 90% of the battle. But, now that I'm no longer on a manic xanthine alkaloid compound-induced high -- this Sunday has definitely lost its charm for me.

There are a couple of lessons to be learned here: Never face the weekend without stimulants and never commit your thoughts to writing while under the influence of a stimulant. Oh, and try to limit the time of sobriety between when the stimulant wears off and when you pass out.

Every day is like Sunday...

Dear whomever it may concern,

Today was kind of a wonderful day. I woke up at noon sporting a mild but not unpleasant hang over. Feeling like a fun-loving teenager, I threw on whatever was on the floor, washed off last night's party make-up and headed out the door into the lovely sunshiney day.

I bought one of those super buzzy (and truly unhealthy) energy drinks and hit the busy sidewalks. I live in a great neighbourhood and I don't explore it often enough. Perhaps the best thing about my hood, is the incredible mountain view -- that and the excellent shopping. I treated myself to 2 new dresses that -- I don't mind saying-- look rather fantastic on me. They were on sale and nothing turns my crank more than a new dress. So imagine how chipper I was with two in the bag!

Not wanting to lose my buzzzzzz, I made a pitstop for a latte and some people watching. Unfortunately the people were dead boring today so I decided to trek on over to Capers and do me some grocery shopping. It wasn't until half-way through the vegetable aisle that I remembered that I hadn't eaten yet today. I didn't feel hungry, but my hands were starting to shake and I started to feel a little freaky deaky from the coffee and can o'speed zipping through my system.

I momentarily considered sitting down for a nice sensible bowl of soup and perhaps a glass of water. But then I remembered the fun loving teen feeling and decided to be totally bad ass and NOT have a healthy snack. Crazy, I know. Besides, the empty stomach/speed combo was making me feel rather slender and rather high. I finished up my shopping in record time -- picking up all manner of tasty treats.

Congratulating myself for remembering to bring my own bags, I called a cab which arrived in less than 5 minutes. Good Lord, everything was just coming up me! My cabbie was super nice and we chatted easily on the ride home. He asked me if I was originally from Vancouver and when I said no he told me he could tell because of my friendliness. Nice, right? As we pulled up to my house he asked me what I do for a living. I told him that I'm a writer and he nodded knowingly. He told me that he could tell that I was an artist and that I exude spirituality. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was more likely caffeine-induced adrenaline that I was exuding rather than spirituality.

So, now I'm home and I just relayed my day which I fear may be awful boring for you all. I still haven't eaten and I'm half expecting to see my spirit animal at any moment. So what seems fascinating to me may not really translate so well. But then again, this my corner of the internet and I do as I please.

I think I'll go try on my new frocks, put a roast in the oven and clean my house. Beep, beep n' beep, beep --yeah!

Pills, chills and big dangerous shoplifters

Okay, so I just got back from the doctor and what an eventful visit it was! First, I got a pretty heavy scolding for allowing my asthma to go so long unchecked. APPARENTLY, I should only be using my inhaler once a week rather than twice a day plus a double-shot nightcap. After listening to my lungs there was talk of hospitalization, unless I swore to go back on a steroid ASAP. So, I walked out of there with three different prescriptions and a massive guilt trip. I had no idea it was that big of a deal.

Anyhoo, the really exciting shit went down once I hit the pharmacy. Some gargantuan fellow got caught shoplifting and he went NUTS when he got caught. He was thrashing around and all these guys were jumping on him. The shop owner locked the doors and asked me to watch the front. And like a moron I nodded and stood at the front counter. The poor young pharmacist was getting chucked around pretty good and some guy kept on shouting, "I'm a professional boxer! Let me get him!" Note that the professional boxer was almost as wide as he was tall and not with muscle.

The shoplifter was making his way toward the front like a crazed animal with the shop owner, the pharmacist and the boxer hanging off of him like clothes pins. I was all paid up for my prescriptions, but I really needed a bus pass. The shoplifter parade was getting closer and I was starting to feel kinda sick. I decided that one more day of scrounging for change wouldn't kill me, but the gong show coming up the tampon aisle just might. I casually walked out.

I was down 2 blocks before I finally heard police sirens. I kind of wish I'd stuck around. Maybe I could have been a hero. Or maybe I could have lifted a bus pass or at least some gum for my troubles.

It's been an exciting day and my blood is pumping an interesting mix of medications to my brave heart. I narrowly avoided hospitalization, my lungs are operating at half-capacity and I was one of the good guys in an attempted robbery. You know, the more I think of it... I am kind of a hero. You're welcome, world.

Je suis malade

Great. I MIGHT be sick! I can't tell if I'm being tormented by allergies, a head cold or a nasty cocktail of the two. All I know is that my head hurts and I'm feeling more asthmatic than ever. I need to lie on a cool sterile pillow and have my hair stroked...forever. Man, that would be good.

But the good Lord has bigger plans for me. Instead I have hours and hours of CMS clean-up to do and a doctor's appointment in a couple of hours. I will beg the good doctor for a little something, something to take the edge off ... of everything. Perhaps a teeny-weeny Ativan or two. Pfft...she won't give me anything. She's one of those fancy-pants doctors that prescribes a healthy lifestyle and rest. Archaic, I know. But I do need to refill my inhaler prescription and I do enjoy stealing rubber gloves and lube from the examining room. You gotta make your own fun in life.

Seriously, my kingdom for some fingers through my hair.

Itchy Scratchy

Golly, gosh, darn -- my aching allergies! I don't know what's going on, but my nose is swollen from all the constant agitation. I nearly clawed it off my face this morning. I've had three showers today because the only place I feel like a normal human is under water. I guess this is the universe paying me back for all my year-of-the-rat show-offery. Well, just never you mind none. It will take more than debilitating allergies to keep this rat down. Believe you me.

I leave for London in a week. How do you like them apples? My dear friend is in the family way and so I'm going to gawk at her womanly figure. I am trying to convince her to commit to one night of clubbing, primarily for the photo op. Two 35-year-old women, one 7 months pregnant -- the other, well, 35-years-old... Break out your Madonna medley, Mr. DJ -- here we come. Did I mention that I also get go to an Arsenal game? Yeah, it's sold out. Take that, universe! Score one for the rat.

The last time I was in England I was 21 and there is a very real possibility that I will see some folks whom I haven't seen since those sweet days of nubility (I've just made that word up and I'm quite fond of it). And so I vowed to lose 15 pounds before I left the continent. And then the Cadbury Easter Cream Eggs hit the shelves. I swear the world conspires against me. Easter is a tough time for me... and for Spaniards. We all suffer together.

Potent Rodent

Word up, my fellow rats! This is our year to make some noise! And I don't mind saying that me and my rat brethren are kind of awesome. I mean, just check us out:

Characteristics:
Smart, Magnetic, Well-liked, Affable, Quick-witted, Surreptitious, Selfish, Protective, Calculating

Rats are beautiful people with magnetic personalities. The Rat herself can't help but notice the admiration she receives from others. If the Chinese say there are few poor Rats, there are an even fewer number who are not sexually stimulating- especially as young people. Rat people are romantic, and are always happier to have someone to share with.

One of the Rat's greatest assets is her charm. Rats can melt hearts with their smiles. Add that to their coquettish personalities and you can easily see how they conquer the hearts of others. She's also lively and genial, and has a special gift for easing the minds of others.

Rats tend to be tense, full of nervous energy, petulant and prone to stress. Rats also harbour a bit of aggression; yet, they are usually able to control it.

They make a better boss than an employee and, although motivated, they can be pinned down by routines.

Rats Dislike: Doing without things they want, strict time keeping, any routines, being at the end of the line(!!!)

Rats make excellent:
Writers, Broadcasters, Actors, Advisors, Counselors, Lawyers, Politicians, Designers, Engineers, Managers, Directors, Administrators, Entrepreneurs, Musicians, Stand-up Comedians, Researchers, Historians, Race Car Drivers

Jealous? It's OK. No need. Just keep coming back here and let me use my special gifts to put your minds at ease. And if you're lucky, I'll smile for you and melt your cold, envious hearts.

You oughtta be in pichers

For the past week I've been the subject of a 'reality' TV show. In a nutshell, the storyline is how I go from financial fuck up to Mz Money Bags. It's been a pretty interesting process and I've learned a lot. Like, you should clean your bathroom under the brightest fluorescent lights you can find because the camera crew will shine light brighter (and hotter) than the sun in there, illuminating every stray hair/discarded cotton ball/tampon wrapper you missed. Also, sitting down makes you feel and look much fatter than when you're standing and crossing your arms over the bulge only does so much. And time flies in reality TV land -- seriously. I needed a week and half of outfits over three days, which is a problem because I definitely do not have 7 days of flattering, film-worthy clothing. I also learned how to make an intimate phone call in front of nine people and I discovered my acting range (narrow).

What's caught me by surprise is how much I miss working in television. It's not the first time I've been on the other side of the camera and it's not my favourite place to be, but just being involved in it all again was exciting. My time in TV was really quite incredible. Working for the CBC, particularly for the first few seasons of ZeD, was one of the best times of my life. Man, I wish I had appreciated it more. SIGH. Oh well, I have a steady job. I have benefits. Steady. Benefits. Steady Eddy. No surprises. Nope. Never any surprises. Yep. Steady as she goes.

When one of the women I was shooting with walked to the bathroom with me she asked if all the guys in the film/TV industry were as good looking as the crew working on this production... I thought about it for a minute and to admit that for the most part, guys working in 'the industry' are pretty hot. Umm... I guess that was an aside. Leave me alone. I'm tired! I was pretending to shop in a drug store at 6 AM.

If you'll excuse me, I have go powder my nose and prepare for my next close up. Today is the last day of filming and I really need to redeem myself. I need to look 20 pounds slimmer and much wealthier.

Kisses on your lipses