Sting

Today, on my 8 billionth trip to Ikea, I was stung by a wasp. The wasp stung me moments after I finished delivering a fantastic pep talk about all the wonderfulness of the wonderful, wonderful world. I suspect there is a lesson to be learned somewhere in all of this.

This is my first wasp sting. It was kind of exciting. Not exciting- good... But exciting. It felt like being burned by the tip of a cigarette and then my arm swelled up real good like. I put vinegar on it because the Internet said so and it seemed to help. And then I went to Ikea. I hate Ikea. I will return to Ikea tomorrow. And so it goes.

I am exhausted. It's been a terrible week. Three people I know and care about have lost someone close to them. I spent the beginning of the week terrified that someone I love more than anyone could possibly be ill (thankfully, it all turned out ok) and then there's this never ending move to deal with.

But on the bright side, there are some really good apples out there.

What's wrong with men in Vancouver...

Re: Andrew and Shy guys

And it's even signed "Lost boy".

This diatribe will only attract other pansy-ass men.

Sold out show

yawn.

yes, yes ... im a sellout.

time to fuck off now and do like fergie says -- if you ain't got no money take your broke ass home.

in other news, i've moved into my new place and it's rah-ther fantastic. i'm in the sun. all my neighbours are french -- but that's ok, i'm sure they're nice anyway.

Sexual Chocolate

Ok, guess what? No, go on -- guess! I'll give you a hint: A massive delivery of free chocolate was delivered to yours truly. Oh yes, it's totally true. Happy birthday to me!

I don't think you understand... I'm not one of those dumbies who claims to prefer chocolate to sex, but come on! A box FULL of chocolate Fed-exed to your door? That's the stuff of childhood dreams. You see, Dove Chocolate is looking to stake claim to ladies' hearts here in Canada and so they contacted really super cool and especially attractive bloggers to brag chat about the Dove Pleasure Kit. I kid you not, that's what it's called. And seriously, I was pretty pleased. Scads and oodles of chocolate, a wine glass, a foot care kit and a journal to scribble chocolatey prose. And being the incredibly cheap date that I am -- I have no qualms about putting out. You know, giving a little sugar to the sugar.

The kit included three types of chocolate : Dark, Milk & Dusk. And today, I'm happy to report that I'm all about Dusk. It's milk mixed with dark and it kind of rocks my world. You see, I tried to pretend to like dark chocolate. I tried to be an adult about it. I suffered through squares of bitterness while nattering on about health benefits and how only real connoisseurs can appreciate the dark stuff. Meanwhile, I was forced to keep my childish milk chocolate habits to myself. Oh, those were trying times! But now, I can hold my head high (well as high as my new double and triple chins will allow) and eat at the adult table. But to be fair, the dark Dove is pretty good too. It tastes like semi-sweet chocolate chips stolen from cookie dough. That's a good thing, by the by. And the milk chocolcate is all milky sweet goodness. I haven't turned my back on good old milk. I'm faithful that way.

I have to say I'm pretty impressed with the Dove purse packs or man-purse packs if you're so inclined. They look like modern condom packs and they hold four foil wrapped chocolates. Each wrapper has an inspirational message written inside. And with the way the world is today, we could all use a little inspiration. So eat until you feel better! This is kind of the idea behind chocolate eating anyway -- Dove's just being a bit more literal.

One of the best things about getting all this chocolate is the re-gifting possibilities! I've given purse packs to my friends, doled out nibbles to co-workers and even rewarded family members. I have never been so popular! Thanks Dove. I may gain ten pounds but hopefully I'll gain 10 new fair weather friends.

And now we pay the piper! Dove and Matchstick Media want to pick your brains a bit. You fill out the survey so they can continue their good work.

Did you read this article? What are your thoughts on Dove?

Click on the link below to let us know!

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=JbdWi0CPZKWwex3IJ953iA_3d_3d

You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain

I'm moving...AGAIN. Movin' on up to the west side to a deluxe two-bedroom condo in the skyyyy-ish (there are 2 balconies involved). Crazy. I'm like a bohemian except I'm less assholey.

As I was packing things up yesterday I came across a trench coat that I used to wear in my nubile twenties. It was my go-to jacket. Hot pink with unfortunate shoulder pads -- although I can assure you broad shoulders on a lady was quite sought after in the early nineties. That pink jacket saw a lot of parties and anchored many skimpy outfits back in the day. In fact, I even wore it once over nothing at all as a nice surprise for a boyfriend. Sigh. Lovely memories. So what did I go and do? I tried it on... and ruined everything. Who in the hell was the sad old lady in pink gawking at me in the mirror and why the fuck was she wearing my jacket? I packed the jacket up toot sweet, lest the hag decided to hijack my looking glass again.

I will be 36 in 9 days.

Explants

I just got an email from "Rozelle Clankscales" about "brainstems explants". I can't think of better inspiration to write a short story. With Rozelle as the protagonist and the drama of brainstem explants -- I feel a book tour coming on. And to think dumb Yahoo! relegated this gem to my junk mail folder.

relocation plan

Arm fat and back fat is rude. If I could gather mine up and shove it into my bra, I'd be laughing and jiggling all the way to the bank... to withdraw all my superficial husband's money... to pay to have my nipples realigned.

Exercising is such a drag. The only sweat I actually enjoy breaking is brought on by sex or frolicking in an alpine meadow. If only there were a way to combine the two... Fuck off Tai-Bo... mama's got a brand new bag.

And guess what? Milk is poison. Luckily I don't really drink milk. Good thing cheese isn't poison. Or whipped cream, or butter, or cafe au lait, or ice cream...etc and so on, because then I'd be seriously screwed.

You know what else kind of bugs me? When people say "tiss-yew" instead of "tish-yew". It bugs me but I kind of get a kick out of it at the same time. Like linguistic S&M.

My favourite tee shirt in highschool had a drawing of Jesus smoking a cigarette with the words "Seriously, Jesus said..." written on it. No wonder I didn't get laid until I was 17.