Ok, I know you’ve all been just dying for some vacation details, so at long last, here we go! This will be one of many installments of our adventures.
It makes sense to start at the beginning, which in fact was way back in April – when we picked the general timeframe for my visit and I started the months long scrambling to get all the details sorted out. I had the paperwork to get my passport already printed off and ready for fine-comb scrutiny. It probably took about three attempts at filling in all the little boxes and squares and ‘this only applies to you if you were born at this spot before this date’ spaces before I was certain it could be brought in for government inspection without meeting instant rejection for having a signature go outside the lines. When it came time to choose which government line to brave for a morning, I chose a location far from the centre of the city. Less popular, less people, less lining up, less chance of me snapping at someone who controls where I’m allowed to travel.
It went off without a hitch, and within another few weeks I had my passport. My SUPER regimented, no glasses, no smiling, no frowning, no expression whatsoever passport. I look like a disaffected yuppie and it cost me $8. And that was just for the pictures, nevermind the little blue folded book itself.
Next came picking the dates for flights and hotels, trying to maximize our alloted vacation time between weekends and matters-of-convenience for getting myself to the necessary airports. As soon as the dates were picked, the tickets purchased and the hotel reserved, it was just a matter of waiting. Shopping, and waiting.
FINALLY June rolled around. The last two weeks crawled and dragged by until one morning I strolled into work with a bright smile on my face. I made no bones about announcing my state of mind to the world at large: “People, I am not here today. Technically I am not here tomorrow, as I will be on a plane to visit my boyfriend in warm climates for the first time in one year. But rest assured, I am not here today either. Is the coffee machine broken? My good sir, I do not care.”
The next morning my mother picked me up for the drive to Buffalo, as it was $100 cheaper to cross the border in a car instead of flying directly out of Toronto. The navigation was a bit rough. Next time I’ll get the directions myself instead of leaving it up to her to leave up to her boyfriend to leave to the last minute resulting in no more than a poorly printed map and handwritten, somewhat incorrect instructions. However, we got there. And after connecting issue-free in Detroit, I got there.
There is here
Josh’s brother Nate drove him to the airport to pick me up, and dropped us off at the hotel where Josh had checked in earlier. In we rolled with our luggage, up the elevator, down the hall, and, well I’ll leave it at that for at least a few hours
We hadn’t stopped to eat dinner, so later that evening I was starving. I figured we could go to a bar or restaurant, but anything nearby was closed by ten. Even with the scooter Josh had already brought to the hotel, the closest source of food was the SuperWalmart. We decided on a late night junk food/grocery shopping spree. I’m not usually a big fan of Walmart or its inhabitants, but I figure when in Rome…(or the South…)
It's ok, Talea was at the gym...
The next morning, or maybe the following morning (I may have lost track of time…), I asked Josh to take me to Ihop for breakfast. He agreed, but was disappointed to learn that it’s somewhat of a misnomer. The “international” house of pancakes is at most a “national” house unless they have them in Mexico – we sure don’t have them in Canada, or at least not that I’ve seen. I in fact did not have pancakes, which I have not been able to stomach since a rather disastrous event with plane food many moons ago. Nor did I get waffles, which I’m told would have been an acceptable substitute. I got a strawberry crepe, which was damn good. I also had a lovely eyeful of Ihop patronage, and the new knowledge that some folk do in fact eat fried chicken for breakfast and encourage their kids to do the same.
yeah...
Our breakfast was followed by much in the way of napping (sort of), to fill the hour or so one is supposed to wait before post-eating aquatic adventures. Yes, the hotel had a pool. But between the hot sun and the small family taking up most of the water, we opted to stay indoors. The pool was small, and it wasn’t so much about there being a crowd as there being just one family – we weren’t really in the mood for inevitable tourist small talk. Luckily, there were recreational activities to be found inside as well.
Word, they had a jacuzzi!
We also went out to dinner at the Outback (which I think we do have in Canada, but I haven’t been in a while), and clothes shopping at Target. It may seem mundane to spend a vacation going to Walmart and Target, but we never get to do these little every day things together. Getting to spend an hour trying on shorts and lamenting the lack of non-thong sandals for men is a rare opportunity!
Alas, the weekend could not last forever, and we only stayed at the hotel for a few days. So after 60 some odd hours of our shagedelic fest of sugar, saunas and shopping, we packed up our bags and waited for our ride to Nate and Sami’s house to stay with them for the rest of our vacation. The first thing we did all together was head on over to their parents house for a family dinner with what I like to refer to as my ‘almost in-laws’. They love to take pictures at any and all opportunity, flattering or not…
Thought bubble says "Hey what are you - "
Photobombed, and still adorable
And of course, we took plenty of pictures ourselves.
Totally worth the wait!
That’s all for this first installment, the adventures continue soon! Coming up next, we’ve got killer dogs, date night, strippers, licking (not to be confused with stripper licking), and other fun.
Okay, I know I’m eons late by now. But did you really want me to half ass a post about Canada? I didn’t think so.
And yes, pictures of the vacation are on the way. Josh is moving around right now, so he hasn’t had time to send them to me. Don’t forget, we’ve got celebrities, strippers, and inappropriate licking. So stay tuned!
Now, onto Canada Day.
In case you didn’t notice somewhere along the way, or are joining us here for the first time, I’m the Canadian half of this couple. Josh, on the other hand, is from the Deep South of America. It makes for some fun times, but it also leads to very involved, sometimes heated conversations about our different ways of life, politics, and principals. I have to admit it can sometimes be difficult for me to not bash my head into the wall at a lot of what I see coming out of America…
SERIOUSLY??? WTF???
But on the plus side, there are advantages to being in a relationship with someone who’s way of life has been totally different than mine, and who will debate me on things that matter. He can play up the southern redneck side when he wants, but at the end of the day Josh is sharp, and politically motivated. You can’t bullshit him. So when he doesn’t understand or agree with why we do what we do, I have to be on my toes.
I realize that as far as some are concerned (it’s okay Talea, I still lub you) being from Toronto may somewhat negate my Canadian status. After all, it’s a pretty massive piece of land and civilization – I’ve only seen the French and Maritime parts of it, and my day to day life is mired in urban culture as opposed to prairies, mountains, and small town issues. But a year of dating an American, I have discovered, makes you want to be the best damn Canadian you can be.
This isn’t to imply that Josh is arrogant or anything – quite the opposite in fact. I’m continually impressed at his wanting to know and understand everything about the country he’s moving to, to pick at issues until he’s sure he has the facts. But to give him those facts, I have to make sure I know what I’m talking about.
For example, we do have an army
I’m not going to go into a long involved schpiel about our differing policies, beliefs and political structures. Frankly, politics are only so exciting, even during that coalition brouhaha we had. I’m even going to try and avoid grandstanding (as much as I’d love to run around with a flag yelling CA-NA-DAAAA! FUCK YEAH!!!) Because when you get right down to the nitty gritty of comparing rights, freedoms, taxes, benefits, social institutions and etc., well… it can be disappointing. Josh is still very true to his southern heritage, but I think he’s more than a little frustrated at the state of his nation lately. Sometimes I feel a little bad about it.
However, I will say that despite some decline, Canada’s economy has fared relatively well. There’s no doubt we’ve been affected, but I believe that our economic and political foundations are strong enough to weather bad times – relatively speaking, we’ve got it together. I will say that we have health care. There are problems, I know. It may take months to get an ultrasound, there may not be enough general practitioners, but when your kid is sick at 3 in the morning and you can’t figure out what’s wrong, you don’t have to think about whether or not you can afford to go to the hospital. I will also say that when I told Josh that I’d want to consider placing our eventual kids in the seperate school system rather than the public system, I was dumbfounded when he asked me how much that would cost – it never occured to me that others don’t have free access to more than one school system. And I will say that I’ve grown to appreciate the multicultural mecca of Toronto more and more every day – do you have any idea how many kinds of food I get to feed Josh?
So moreso than anything else this past year, I have learned not to take these things for granted. While we’re not the biggest or loudest player, Canada is a well respected member of the international community. And we didn’t get here by having the biggest army, by being the most outspoken, by having a standardized Canadian flag hanging above every porch or so help you the neighbours will talk. We got here by quietly building up a solid foundation of domestic and international diplomacy, by beginning our country with less war and more politics, and by encouraging flags from around the world to be flown next to our own. We’re more than maple syrup, mounties, and whatever party is in charge this quarter. It’s how those parties interact, how the entire system is set up. I like to think of it as a hockey team that doesn’t always get along, but scores when it counts, parties calling each other out for the greater goal of winning at the internationals. It’s how we work with each other, and with the rest of the world.
Yes indeed, it is a damn fine year to be Canadian.
I can’t wait until Josh is here to see everything that Canada, and especially Toronto, is all about. The Gerrard Indian Bazaar, Greektown, Corsa Italia, Chinatown, Litte Portugal and others. The Pride Parade, the music festivals, the film festivals, the Agricultural Winter Fair, Winterlicious and Summerlicious, the theatre, the symphony, the media, and the constant barrage of invitations to info sessions on everything from meditation to Darfur.
More than anything I’m really looking forward to just having him here living with me. But I’m also hoping that while keeping his own brand of southern flavour, he also gets to understand that certain je nais se quoi of what it is to be Canadian.
Did you see what I did there? With the French? Pretty clever, huh?
Soooo. You’ve heard the news. Michael Jackson is dead. Brought to the hospital under not-quite-clear circumstances, something about a maybe heart attack and a deep coma. Regardless of the circumstances, the media is all aflutter.
On the one hand, the neurotic in me is thinking “Why is everybody dying this week??? What’s going on???”
On the other hand, the sheer instantaneous nature of the announcement is a clear example of our changing times and manners of communication. My first inkling of the news was in fact not from the news, but from a coworkers changed MSN status. Nowadays CNN no longer has breaking information but is in fact trying to keep up with the likes of Perez. There’s good and bad to this. While it’s nice to know that the media machine is now open to more opinions than that of the right wing money based corporately driven illuminati, it also means that it’s open to all manner of others, credible or not. Not just to left wing extremism (which does exist, and can be just as dangerous when we like the think that we’re correct just because “we’re not them” – although I don’t hear any left wing Nancy Graces losing their mile-high shit over social injustice), but to anyone with a computing device and $30 a month worth of internet. Anybody can say anything and be taken seriously – how many times do we have to be reminded that Wikipedia is not a citable source?
Not to digress from the issue at hand. I just couldn’t help but get a little boggled at how fast the alternate-media world moves. Clearly I’m a part of it, with my itty bitty corner of the blogosphere. But never in a million years do I consider the possibility that someone reads my opinion and takes it as flat out truth. So while I’m all for free speech and the idea that more information is always better than restricted information, sometimes it worries me. When the bottom falls out of the legitimacy of our media sources (or when you realize that there hasn’t been much legitimacy all along – if you haven’t seen Wag the Dog, go do it now), are we all going to start believing everything Google says?
Because here’s the thing: I don’t believe it.
No, seriously.
It all seems a little too crazy. It could be that the quickly adultifying kid in me is outright floored by the sudden removal of a cultural icon. Because love him or hate him – and I do a little of both – you can’t deny his massive presence. It’s difficult when you reach the age where you start to realize that you have “your” music and all this crap kids listen to will never be as good as what you listen to. Or when you realize that this is only going to continue – people I knew of and followed and listened to will drop out of existence, and my eventual children will have no idea what significance it has. I can’t say it’s so much an existential crisis as an unpleasant reality check, but I’m not a fan thus far.
Or it could be that in these modern times with the advent of nano-second communication and hyped up media flurry, it would be all too easy to just disappear. One little tweet can rocket a myth through cyberspace with enough impact to shut down Google and Wiki. And while one could argue back and forth about MJ’s status in our popular culture, from regarded musical icon to tabloid freakshow, one certainly can’t deny his measure of bizarreness. Of all those recently departed, MJ would have more reason than any to make a grandiose departure from public life.
So maybe I’m just in denial. Or maybe I’m just tired of believing everything the internet says. Or maybe I’m a little freaked out at the undeniably bizarre coincidence of so many characters finding their ultimate end in such a short period of time. Either way, I’m still expecting years and years of ‘recently discovered’ singles to start filling the shelves. Burrito appearances shouldn’t be too far behind.
“Hello, Operator? Get me Tupac. Yes, Tupac. You see, Michael is on his way over to chill with him for a bit, and I just wanted to give him a heads up. Don’t lie to me. I know you have the number.”
You will rarely catch me in as good a mood as I am right now, so soak it all in while you can. I am back from my vacation, refreshed, relaxed, loved up, and ready to tackle the rest of the year until Josh and I can be together full time. Last year’s vacation had too many chunks of time cut away by his work schedule, and the travelling part of it was horrendous. He also had a court date the day after my return, and none of the legal shit had been sorted out yet – our future, while undoubtedly involving each other, was filled with uncertainty, obstacles, and plans kept in limbo by forces beyond our control. It was all a little scary, and next to impossible to will myself back on the bus to go home.
This year was different. With no more court to take up sick days, he had the full week off to spend time with me. Ten solid days of loving, sleeping, eating, singing, visiting, shopping, laughing, cooking, kissing, dancing, drinking, wii-ing, and just generally being. A proper vacation. Even when it came time to leave, I was still feeling great.
The next steps to getting together are slowly forming a solid groundwork – talking to lawyers, looking at colleges, setting loose dates and vague to-do lists. Nothing is set in stone yet, of course. But on the way back to the airport, I was feeling alright. Instead of last years dread, anxiety, and futile resentment towards space, time, and other human beings, this year I was nothing short of psyched. Instead of thoughts of “How long until we see each other again?” and “What’s going to happen next?” it was more like “Ok, I’m going to go get things ready up in Canada with the paperwork and the research and the phone calls, and I’ll see you soon! Like for reals this time! Holy crap, woot!”
So yes, I would say it was a good vacation. And with ten days of “What do you want to do today Napolean?” (although I never got around to actually saying that, but now I really wish I had), there was much in the way of fun and adventure. You’ll be regaled with tales for weeks to come, and pictures of course. But for now, while my fridge is still empty and my bags still unpacked, here are some brief highlights:
- Late night grocery shopping at Walmart!
- Confederate flag bikinis and hot tubs!
- We went on the radio! Details and clips coming soon!
- Great adventures in American dining establishments and their patrons!
- Licking inappropriate objects! Surprise, it’s not the strippers!
All that and more, but right now I’m starving because I spent last night getting piss drunk with Talea and didn’t get groceries. It was totally worth it.
It’s starting to hit me. Our vacation is almost here.
Don’t get me wrong, June is still sucking so far. The morons are worming their way out of the woodwork faster than I can squish them appropriately and diplomatically deal with them. At the office, on the train, out on the street. Tourist season is upon us and nobody will get the hell out of my way. I still want to knock a few people down. But it just dawned on me last night that in less than one week I’ll be on my way to the airport.
Holy crap.
I have so much to do! I’ve been so busy just trying to keep my head on straight and not walk in front of an oncoming bus that I haven’t actually sat down and, oh, for example – packed. I have bags of new clothes littered about the place, a new suitcase full of paper stuffing and packing tape from whence it came at the mall, and thats pretty much it. New bra? Still at the store, waiting to be tried on thirteen million ways. New tiles to put down so my landlords don’t have to venture into my bedroom? Still mostly in the box. I did manage to rearrange the apartment to my greater liking, but now I’ve got more crap to throw out, and yet more tiles to put down where furniture used to be. Also, I still have to get the um…waxing…done.
OH DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THEY DO TO YOU???
Yeah, I’m a little bit scared about that part, but I’ll suck it up.
I also have to go get travel insurance. I’m going to the states, after all. I don’t want to have to pay for a broken arm with a leg. (And of course, if you don’t get insurance, you’ll get hit by a bus, because thats how it works.) It’s not expensive, and only takes five minutes of your time at the bank, but really? When the hell did I start having to worry about insurance?
So I’m spinning around in circles right now just trying to remember everything I have to remember. I couldn’t find a decent clip or even pic on the internet, but does anyone remember that episode of the Simpsons where there’s a fire drill at the power plant? And one guy in the background just kind of panics, running in a circle going “fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire…”? I kind of feel like that - trying so hard to keep track of everything I have to do that I’m not actually getting anything done. I haven’t even dyed my hair! Honestly, this skunk stripe is getting ridiculous.
And as for Josh? I haven’t seen him for more than a half hour here and there late at night for about a week now. We’ll be staying at his brother and sister-in-law’s place (who I like to call my almost-in-laws, have I mentioned how awesome these kids are? I heart them) and they’re converting the car-port into a spare room. Red tape abounded for so long that they only recently got the go ahead to start building, and so they’re busting ass just about round the clock to get it done. The time apart iss rough on Josh and I, being so used to spending most of almost every evening together, but it’ll be worth it once I get down there. Poor Josh is seriously going to need this vacation after all that work!
At least he has time off from his job this year. He had to work through the week during our last vacation, so it’ll be more than awesome to actually get to spend so much time together. And unfathomably, after how long it took to get here, it’s now just days away. I’ll just have to not bite my nails down to nothing in the meantime while watching the clock!
The month, I mean, as opposed to anybody in particular named June. May was a little awkward for me, since it’s very difficult to scream ‘fuck you May!’ when one of your bestie’s has the same name, no matter how shitty the month has been. However, I don’t know anybody named June, so here goes.
My name is June and I will fuck your shit up!
It’s only day 1 of you, dear June, and you’re already pissing me off.
Firstly, you took forever and a goddamned day to get here. Do you not realize that I’ve got a year-in-the-making vacation scheduled mid-you? How about showing up on time instead of making each day drag on until it feels like my time off is still six months away? Can you swing that? Hell, I show up to work on time, and I’ve only been there for two years. Have the centuries of your existence in the Gregorian calendar made you so bitter that you just started showing up whenever you damn well feel like it? Apparently so.
Secondly, you’ve chosen to start on a Monday this time around. That’s just thrilling. Because Monday’s don’t suck enough without it being the first of the month as well. I’m sure you don’t care, dear June, but in my particular industry there are reasons (that I won’t go into here, as rumour has it my uber bosses now float around the interweb) why the first of the month is particularly shitty. Nobody likes the first of the month. Bills are generally due on the first of the month. People are shitty, cranky, and oftentimes downright unreasonable on the first of the month. They’re impatient, busy, and intolerable. And as an added kick, most people I’ve had to deal with today are a little bit extra pissy since you’ve decided to start off with shitty grey weather instead of your much hoped for clear skies and warmth. Good job, keep up the excellent work.
Also, speaking of keeping up employment, of all days to load heaps of criticism on my work environment, it’s sure awesome that you chose today. Really adds the icing to the cake. Nothing makes me feel better about my life, 90% of which costs money, than to hear from the source of said money “by the way, you suck.”
Super.
Lastly, it’s really sweet of you to send my landlords over to fix a plumbing problem in my bathroom today. I haven’t yet fixed some of the damage caused to the walls and floors by former rabbits/tantrums/roomies yet, so the extra paranoia has been a great touch all day. I’m hoping that they didn’t venture into the bedroom, where the damage is my fault as opposed to the condition of the main areas, where the damage is mostly due to unsticky floor tiles and ancient plumbing. However, I still don’t know. Why? Because on the way out, my landlords naturally turned the lock on the doorknob to my apartment, instead of just the deadbolt above it. Unbeknownst to them, as I rarely need to call them, I don’t use it. It’s a shitty fiddly closet lock, and rather superfluous with a deadbolt above it. So on my way out, I flip the deadbolt and head on my merry way. Never in a million years would it have occured to me this morning that they would, as good landlords, lock up properly after vacating my place instead of the half-ass job I usually do. It’s only today that I find the need for that second key, locked neatly away inside my apartment with the key to the garbage room.
Greeeeaaaaat.
So now they’re on their way, from way north of the rush-hour besodden city, with much in the way of unnecessary apologies. I can’t even pretend to blame them for this one. This particular mishap is nobody’s fault but my own. But given how the rest of this day has gone so far, I’m going to go ahead and just pile that on with everything else you’ve screwed up today, dear June.
Consider this a performance review, June. If you don’t have a better attitude starting tomorrow morning, you’re fired.
So I was over at 2LD a long ass time ago, but sometimes I’m lazy and most times Josh is very busy the other day. She had a meme going on with letters, and I thought “Well. I’m just going to have to get in on that.” It involves having a letter picked out for you, and then fulfilling the task of listing about 10 items you love that start with that letter. Foregoing the general instruction of asking her for a randomly assigned letter, I pretty much planted my flag in the letter E and asked her to instead assign one to Josh. It’s mad fun times when Josh and I co-write, but he’s usually so busy with work, legal matters, and other things necessary to get our asses together. So when I’m craving some blog-world man-attention, I find memes are a good fun way to have some kicks without actually having to, you know, think of our own ideas
She assigned him a K, which I feel is nicely paired with the E so clearly designed for yours truly. Let’s see what the results are!
Emerald says: Firstly, how much do I love that both of our letters could also be in reference to drug usage?
Josh says:
Hey now, don’t give away any hints as to what I’m putting on my list dammit!
Ha, okay, I’ll be quiet. Although I wouldn’t think anything like that would be surprising coming from you.
So uh, you want to start off this list of awesome crap starting with E and K or should I?
You can go first.
K is for Ketamine, which get’s cats high, and sometimes people in the suburbs too.
Haha, suburbs. Your suburbs are nothing like ours. Our suburbs suck. You have to drive around looking for kids hanging out near parks instead of just going up the street like sensible adults. In that theme, I will say Ecstasy. The drug itself can be either awesome or rat poison, depending on the mood of whoever cooked it up in their bathtub. Or I could get all emo and romantic, but who would I be kidding?
K is for Knights, because they wear armor and chop people apart for a living. Not to mention the fact that they kill dragons, which are universally accepted as the most badass monsters ever to walk the face of the planet, and as a reward they bang damsels all over the countryside. Knights rule.
There are also many modern day knights who are pretty cool. Anthony Hopkins is a knight. E is for Emerald, cause firstly I rule, knighted or not. And they make pretty good jewels too, I guess.
He’s not shit compared to Lemmy from Motorhead, he should really be a knight. Or Jason Statham. So uh, what else starts with a K? This is going to be hard, I suppose we should have put some thought into our lists instead of winging it like we always do.
K is for Killers, who kill people to death. Because without killers there would be no horror movies, and without horror movies where would I get my gratuitous gore and nudity?
That is a very good and also philosophical point. How would we recognize or enjoy what is good, or even know what it really is if there were no bad with which to contrast it? We need crazies and psychopaths. Just, you know, on someone else’s block.
E = mc2, because I don’t have a ’squared’ button, and also knowledge is cool. I’m also more of a fan of the scientific mathematical explanation of things. At least in terms of the universe and energy, and all that jazz.
What? That wasn’t my point at all, I was giving a big old salute to all those badass killers out there, mainly so I wouldn’t plagiarise Maddox from his alphabet of manliness when he said K was for kicking ass. (damn you maddox!)
Oh. Reference fail.
It wasn’t a reference, but I wasn’t what was good by pointing out the bad or whatever you said, i was actually hailing the bad.
*Josh and Em both take a moment to agree that Josh totally failed on that last sentence, and then continue onwards*
You should read my A – Z encyclopedia of serial killers.
Alrighty, K is for Krusty, cause I know how much you would felate the Simpsons if they were real.
Dude, you have no idea how much I was already thinking that. In fact, I’m going to go ahead and say E is for “Exxxxcellent” in all it’s many forms.
Right on, Well K is for Karate and Kung-Fu, the holy mediums which introduced the western world to martial arts through cheesy ass movies like the Flying Guillotine.
I love that we’re going to watch Kung-Fu movies in bed.
And act out Kung Fu movies in bed, did I mention that?
You did. My general priciple is “don’t leave any marks I can’t cover up or explain easily the next day.”
None of our moans wil synch up with out mouths.
Haha, that too! E is for encyclopedia, because I’m a nerd who will read through an encyclopedia or dictionary for kicks. Also because my encyclopedia, as mentioned, is exclusively about crime and serial killers.
That helps I’m sure. K is for Kalashnikov’s automatic rifle model of year 1947, AKA the AK-47. Thanks to Hollywood this is globally known as the single coolest rifle ever made, and thanks to human violence, the single most popular rifle on the planet (I think). It resists wear and tear, fires in almost any conditions, and is simple enough for a seven year old child to be taught how to dismantle, clean, reassemble, and fire it.
Well shit, I was going to say elephants, but that just won’t cut it after that. Let me get my damn dictionary. Encyclopedia, whatever…
Shit, there are only two entries for “E” in this thing, and I can’t say I’m a huge fan of ‘execution’. I’m going to have to go with ‘Entertainment”. I would go crazy if I didn’t have something constantly distracting me from the chatter in my head. Thanks, television!
Alright, K is for the KKK, the most hilarious hate group between the Third Reich and Al Quaeda.
I would call them the most poorly dressed, but whatever. Seriously, did someone actually look in the mirror and think “Sheets, yeah, that’ll be our thing!” That’s like trying to start a hardcore violent gang and thinking “Fuschia, yes!!!”
E is for eating, I’m a pretty big fan of that.
White is such a bad color choice for night stealth, and not to mention how dirty you must get the robes during lynchings. And who voted on the dunce hat? WTF?
I know!!! The hat, why??? Ugh. Anyways, your turn.
Ok, K is for Krokus who coverd one of the koolest sogs of all time, Ballroom Blitz.
Oh no way, I love Ballroom Blitz! The first time I heard it was in Wayne’s World, when Crucial Taunt sang it.
*five minute interlude for music appreciation time*
Hell yeah! \m/> <\m/
That was pretty good, though my favourite will always be Tia Carrere.
Of course, how could she not be. I’m stretching for K’s here shug.
Yeah, I’m still stuck on elephants. How far along are we? Count for me honey, I’ve had several glasses of wine.
I have done eight, you have done seven.
I’m going to go with Electricity. I’d be pretty fucked without it. Of course, once you get here we could live in a shack in the woods with a well for all I care. But for right now, I’m pretty fucked when I knock my power out. Unless whoever that person is nearby who is stupid enough to have an unsecured network open happens to be online.
Eight now.
Ok, so two more. Ooh, eccentricity! I has it!
I want everything in this picture. Consider it a 10 year goal.
Ok, let me go with Katherine Heigl, because I totally had a TV crush on her back when she was the stuck up bitch on Roswell, waaaaaay before Knocked up or Scrubs.
I don’t think she was on Scrubs…
*It is eventually determined that these are from another, less hilarious medically-themed show. Probably ER.*
Ha, I told you she wasn’t on scrubs. Are you thinking of the other blonde chick on scrubs? Elliot?
Negative, I was thinking of Heather Graham.
Cause Eliot’s cute but not super hot. But whatever, and either way that’s an E. But I don’t like her enough to use that as my last E choice. And I’m going to have to say a full negative to Heather Graham. She’s terrible in everything she’s ever done, ever, and at least Katherine Heigl has some boobage.
So a threesome with Heather Graham is out then?
Unless a threesome involves me punching her in the face. Why can’t we have Katherine Heigl?
Sold! To the lady with the big knockers!
Sweet, that’s totally me.
Thinking of ten K words that are cool is really hard. I’m going over all the things in my head now. Kalvin and Hobbes, Katterpillar heavy machinery, spaniKopida, everything I can think of starts with a damn C. Wait, no genius struck me at the last second. K stands for Klingons eating Klondike bars, because I fucking dare you to think of something cooler that starts with a K, especially after drinking rum.
That is a pretty cool visual. And as I’m headed for the last of a bottle of wine, I’m going to go ahead and cop out with “Existence.” It’s pretty bad-ass right now.
True dat, much better than that whole non-existence phase you went through. I found it to be much adieu about nothing, hmmm, jes?
Well I could also say “Existentialism” but let’s face it, they’re annoying. And right now, the extent of my existence is sitting on a couch in my underwear finishing off a bottle of wine while my hot boyfriend who’s willing to switch countries to be with me stares at my boobs. I’m thinking that’s a-ok my friend.
Me too, we’re going to have a lot of fun existing.
Alright, well what say we sign off this here blog and get to some long-distance practicing?
*wiggles eyebrows seducitvely*
Ok that sounds good to me, This blog was brought to you by the letters E and K. Have a good evening ladies and gentlemen.
So the good news is that I’ve mastered a fairly basic sock, or at least the general principles of not losing your mind when wrestling with said fairly basic sock. Other than having to cut Josh’s conversation mid-sentence with “haang on, HANG ONNNN!!!!………..okay sorry,” I’ve pretty much got the technique down! To make quick work of it, I thought it would be cute to knit a pair of baby socks for May’s latest bundle of roly poly joy.
An excellent turnout! But this baby is indeed roly poly, and growing by the second. I wanted to knit the second sock in a hurry, before they wouldn’t fit! Look at that healthy chub! And so I figured it would be a good idea to forgo the standard knit-2-purl-2 cuff (that’s “stretchy ribbing like you see at the top of most socks” for you non-knitters) and just do a plain knit one. Ribbing is what keeps the sock up on your leg instead of puddling around your ankle, but given that there is minimal need to keep them up on legs that do little more than wriggle toe-up in the air, I figured it would be no issue.
And it wasn’t. I got the second sock done relatively quickly, and although the cuff wasn’t as neat or pretty looking, it took care of the risk of ankle-muffin-top and all related circulatory unpleasantries.
So where did I fail?
Remembering what size needles I used for the first pair.
Fuuuuuuuuck.
And yes, that’s the smaller one that I knit second. Way to keep up with the growing – knit smaller! You know what kiddo? I think I’ll knit you a hat or something. You’ll look dashing.
Okay everyone, remember how I told you to bitchslap your computers? We’re changing course – start knocking on every variety of wood you can find (short of injuring male loved ones for the sake of double entendre). Feel free to use pressed fiberboard, paneling, and exes.
The internet…waaaaaaaaiiiit forrrrrrr iiiiiiit…is back!
I have a new modem. It’s spiffy and shiney and new. And somehow, through a miraculous alignment of the cosmos (angry fist shake) I managed to get it up and running. It’s supposed to take ten minutes. It took me two hours, and I didn’t even have any problems. It was just very…involved. Vista shines here, with the constant approving of every goddamned step, and having to restart every time some new aspect gets installed (such as the piles of anti-virus – oh internet, why are you so dangerous?). Download this executable file, launch said executable file, install feature, loading, loading, loading. It was just a meticulous, pissy little process that had me sitting on the edge of my seat all night.
But finally, finally, I have the internet.
Wireless internet!!!!
Me! Technologically stunted and maimed, I somehow figured out how to appease the digital deities and actually got my wireless working. I’m not covered in cables! I can sweep my floor without meticulously unplugging, draping, carefully arranging (or just ignoring it and nibbling my lip over the bad-housekeeper guilt). I don’t trip over things at 2am when that last bottle of juice announces itself as a poorly timed idea!
It.
Is.
Fan.
Tastic.
Now let’s not get carried away. This month, overall, is still sucking the big one. Work is a pain in the ass, and every douchebag and their ugly sister seem out to get me. They’re filming underbudgeted movies on my block and cluttering up the traffic. Starbucks has discontinued the only vegetarian breakfast sandwhich. Josh is hard at work both on the job and getting some renovations done around his brothers house for my visit, so between that and the rest of life we’re often pressed for time. I’ve promised May that I won’t use Limewire, and so I’m dying without my instant fixes and guilty pleasures. I still don’t have tiles on half the floor, and my futon is becoming lumpier by the day. Also, neither tax nor bonus season were as kind to me as I’ve grown accustomed. Boourns.
But this, I will celebrate. This one teeny, tiny technological victory, as brief as I realize it could be, I will take it and run with it.
Thumbs up internet, I’m back in your grill. Now let’s finish suckerpunching the rest of this shitty month and get on with my damn vacation, alright?
I tell you, it’s a damn good thing I’ve got internet at the office, and at least three fairly decent chunks of time during the average work day in which to surf (somewhat) freely. If it weren’t for relieving my receptionist for her breaks, you might never see me ’round these parts.
Yes, it’s true. My internet at home has once again decided to laugh with maniacal glee at my frantic efforts to stay connected to the world more than twenty feet away. I woke up Saturday morning and my computer was dead. Just….dead. No blue screen of death, just dead. It looked more like a pillowcase – horizontal, somewhat ragged looking stripes. I tried to restart it – fail. I tried to do all those little safe-startup options that you’re offered when you haven’t shut your laptop properly – fail. Fail, fail, fail.
I didn't...but almost
Then I thought, well, fuck it. Any files I *really* care about are floating on the internet anyways. I know better than to trust this machine with anything long term. I’ll go grab the magic disc and just wipe this thing back to its basic operating system. Oh no, I’ll have to re-install msn, firefox, and iTunes and lose all my hilarious bookmarks. Big deal. As long as I can get the internet back, I’m happy. What can I say? I’m a product of my generation, and no internet means no Josh – even our phones are web based.
Off I went then, to grab the original packaging for the computer, placed neatly on a shelf in the spare room.
The backup disc? No more than a set of instructions on how to create your own backup disc. A futile, futile piece of paper.
Well fuck. Good thing I’ve got a nerdy friend on speed-text. I gave May the shake-down on the latest fuckuppery, to which she said “Bring it on over!” So over I went, as is the habit on Saturday afternoons anyways. I plunked the laptop down, and proceeded to ignore it for most of the night. Eventually the sake bombs were busted out and I started feeling much better. Some time after that, I remembered the useless hunk of computery plastic wedged into my purse – complete with non-laptop-sized keyboard! Remember that story? About dumping a whole glass of water on it and frying all but three letters to kingdom come? Yeah! That was fun! Anyways, long story short another geeky friend who happened to be in attendance got it back to factory setting fairly quickly. Thanks nerdy friends! Problem solved!
Not so much. Sunday morning I woke up to find that although my computer worked fine, in all it’s zero-actual-programs glory, the internet was down.
What. The. Fuck. Are you serious???
I understand this on a whole 'nother level now...
Apparently, yes. I called Bell, bitched my schpiel, and two hours later we were able to determine that my modem was malfunctioning, not picking up my IP address properly. Or some other bullshit. They could have told me it was dying of syphilis and it wouldn’t have mattered. They would still have to send me a new one, days away. In the meantime they MacGyvered a basic connection, the mechanics of which I don’t even understand. But no video phone, and too weak to download msn. Great. That’s about as helpful as an internet connection in a government office where you’re allowed to search all of three excitingly informative pages and play solitaire when the boss is in the can.
I texted May. Forget tech support, clearly I’m e-doomed. Can I borrow a flamethrower, chainsaw, sledgehammer or some other kind of destructive implement? She texted back that Talea was on her way over for gardening, and didn’t that sound like much more fun??? Yes. Yes, it very very very did. So over I went to take my wrath out on weeds, semi-useful computer in tow for another joyous adventure with oversized luggage on the bus. May’s prognosis was: “You know, I used to think it was user error. Because even the smartest person can make a mistake on their computer. It happens. But now I think the internet hates you. Clearly, it must. Because this is just ridiculous, you poor thing!”
It does! It must! Call me crazy, but I’m almost certain that every single device in my apartment is fully awake, aware of my name, my neuroses, and the worst days to mess with me. I’m going to start wearing a tinfoil hat!
Maybe not...
Ahem. So yes, with much help from technologically non-impaired, non-cursed friends, I was able to once again plug myself back into the all important internet. And the internet, by the way, owes me a day of my life back.
The new modem should be arriving soon, beginning what I’m sure is yet another long battle against the machine. Could you all do me a favour and slap your computers around a little tonight? I’m hoping it’ll send a message to the internet about what happens when you push my buttons a little too long. And if it doesn’t go well and I end up making the news in some horrible fashion, well…at least now you can say you know my side of the tale.
I just tried to navigate the OCAD website, and it made me want to cry. It just occured to me that I have no idea how I'll help Josh figure out college applications here when I couldn't even do it for myself. Ugh.
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