Look at Me Go! Photos Ahoy!

Dudes, I am awesome when I get motivated to get shit done, and what better motivation than trying to get closer to a sexy piece of loving man? I know right? So since you’ve last heard, I have picked up a copy of Creating Web Pages for Dummies, which teaches HTML, CSS, Dreamweaver, etc., so that’s exciting. I’m just cracking into it now, so I can’t display my mad coding skillz yet but at least it’s becoming less foreign and frightening. And as Talea pointed out today, I’ve kind of become a graphic designer on the side since I like to create productive projects for myself at work to increase sales. I’m making info packages and brochure type documents left right and centre, and I’m doing it all on friggin’ bitch-face Microsoft Word. We all know what a pain in the ass that program is, so imagine how much easier I’ll be able to get all my pretty visions out once I know how to use the far superior tools of Dreamweaver and whatnot. Awesome.

I can, however, show you some other stuff I’ve been working on, which is my fun knitty projects! I’m planning on whipping up a batch of scarves, ’cause they’re oh-so-fun accessories (really, knitting sweaters may be impressive, but…no, no knitted sweaters for me) and because I can whip them up in a hurry. If I’m going to sell things, I better be able to produce them quickly, right? Then I’ll make a stop down to the public crafty type venue (I’m totally spacing on the name) where you can rent machinery you couldn’t possibly afford on your own, like super awesome sewing machines that I’m hoping/presuming can sew up fun tags and stuff. Tag ’em all up and by the time I’ve got the website up, I’ve got a decent headstart on virtual shelf filling goodness.

Check it out, yo! (Oh, and there’s some fun other stuff mixed in there too.)

Green Waffle Scarf

Green Waffle Scarf

This here’s a super fuzzy green scarf I made with a really simple pattern that Talea taught me. I’m so in love with this yarn! It’s called Sean Sheep and I’m so embarassed to say that I got it at Walmart, but I checked their website and it seems the gigantic bastards have exclusive distribution rights or something. Alright assmonkeys, I’ll play your game. I have to find more, I’m so amazed at how soft this yarn is without costing me an arm and/or leg. Any start up knitters out there, I’m totally pimping this stuff. I really hate the damn Walmart association, but I can’t pretend not to like the stuff. Hate the game, not the player.

Blue Wavy Scarf

Blue Wavy Scarf

This is a scarf that is a duplicate of a scarf I actually made for myself last fall, my first completed knitting project ever! The first one was a burgundy colour, and I had wanted to make a series of brightly coloured ones. You can’t see the shape too well in this photo cause it’s all pile up (on the super gorgeous flower carved wooden box Josh sent me for my keepsakes, awwwww), but the sides wave in and out. You can see better in this pic, I think.

Blue Wavy Scarf

Blue Wavy Scarf

Damn my shaky hands. I’ll probably model it at some point when I’ve got someone else to take a picture, but you get the idea. It’s kind of wooshy. Anyways, it’s just increasing and decreasing, but I thought it was kind of awesome that I came up with the idea all by myself 🙂

This is the next project:

Lime Green Basketweave

Lime Green Basketweave

This is actually a product of some mild math, an expansion of a smaller version of this pattern that I found…somewhere, I went on a crazed pattern collection binge one day, Google is awesome! You’d be amazed at the collection of pattern creators out there. Some of them sell their patterns (and kudos to them, cause I haven’t been able to come up with anything other than skinny-wide-skinny-wide = wavy), some are just spreading the crafty love. Anyways, in future, I will make sure to pay attention to see if someone has requested a credit for their knitty genius, but hopefully I’ll be able to create some of my own.

Future Projects

Future Projects

My stash of yarn, with patterns already assigned. I think I’m going to bead the shit out of that super crazy fuzzy pink stuff (as opposed to that slightly crazy fuzzy pink stuff and the sleek and shiny pink stuff) and do a simple pattern but randomly switch needle sizes, so it comes out kind of funky and uneven and net-like, in a sexy trendy fun kind of way. And I’m going to try my hand at a sort of quilt scarf by knitting patches of that shiny pink and purple stuff on the left and stitch them together to make a piecework scarf. I’m excited to see how it turns out.

My Office

My Office

My itty bitty place. There is a bedroom, but I gave it to the bunnies.

A Bunny! A Bunny named Brutus!

A Bunny! A Bunny named Brutus!

I’m actually kind of in love with the concept of small, compact living, although one of those itty bitty Swedish designed bunkers with bookcases for stairs to a loft bed might be a bit nicer than a teeny apartment with unsticky floor tiles. But I’ve got my TV, my futon (not craptacular, as a matter of fact, it’s pretty and awesome with drawers) my awesome blue trunk that Talea and I dragged up my stairs when we found it on the curb (Scavenging, go! I dragged that dresser under the TV up too, it holds all my shoes!) my fan and space heater cleverly filed away, my clothes dressers that are out of sight and obviously the bathroom. Peep my tiny kitchen! I’m so used to prepping food on a square foot of counter space that even when I bought a table for more space, I covered it with a mini indoor garden. I still really love having the extra shelf space underneath.

I think I’m going to make one of my first “How To Be Awesome” instructional videos all about cloning (and possibly stealing) plants. For someone who’s never really done much in the way of gardening, I seem to be doing okay! The last time I remember ‘gardening’ up until very recently was wanting to invite all my kindergarten friends over to see the carrot patch (also itty bitty) I had successfully grown in a decorative barrel in my grandmothers back yard. I even drew up invitations saying “Come See My Carrot Patch.” My mother and grandmother humoured me, but the baby hippie tea party was not to be.

The big one is from work, we apparently had too much greenery at reception. And when it outgrew the little pot, I potted it with soil in a bigger one. No point in tossing the little pots, so I decided to try my hand at planting some snipped leaves and seeing if they’d take root. So far so good! I’ve started two others with those brightly coloured leaves there from a big tropical plant I bought that I still don’t know the name of (seriously, if you recognize it, let me know what the hell it is).

The gnome is named Wally by the way, Josh sent it along with the carved box and other goodies. And when I went downt to visit, he gave me a little carved squirrel too, since he knows how much I love squirrels (but won’t let me have a flying squirrel for a pet, harumph!) One day I’ll be able to put them in a real outdoor garden.

He also got us some matching tattoos, for any newcomers out there who haven’t seen them yet 😉

Well that’s pretty much what I’ve been working on the past week and a bit. And right about now is way past my bedtime, (plus Josh is online, so I’m going to spend some time with him first ’cause we’ve both been busy working our asses off lately) so I’ll check in with y’all later.


Fun Developments!

Okay, so the plan is back on to move my ass to the States at some point. This whole college idea for getting Josh up here is not going to work out very well considering the bastards who run the American Judicial System haven’t even handed down his sentence yet, never mind the probationary aftermath, nevermind the drawn out process that is getting ones record pardoned and cleared and blah blah blah, nevermind the following brouhaha of actually getting the college part in gear. You remember the end of highschool, the college bit alone is a confusing and frustrating pain in the ass.

Plus, I’m in the mood for a change of scenery, and for someone with a crazy hectic brain like mine, I think the slower pace could actually be very good for me. That and even if Josh is away by the time I end up down there, just being closer makes me feel better.

There’s just one problem with that. Actually, there are a ton of issues that will have to be traversed, but let’s focus on one thing at a time. Josh is the patient one, who understands the frequent necessity of just sitting back and letting things take their course. No point in spending extraneous amounts of energy on something you can’t control. I however, do not function like that, and it’s the recognition of these differences in thought process that contributes to a succesful relationship (among other things, like our general awesomeness and a healthy abundance of sex appeal). If I’m on the subway and it shuts down, I know there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I’m going to be late, and that’s that. But this is different, because I feel like I *can* do something. And it’s driving me literally crazy. Crazier. Whatever.

So I want to move. But because I am the impatient one, it’s understood that this is something I am doing of my own perogative. Josh is stuck in limbo, and you can’t make rent money while you’re in jail. It would be unfair of me to decide that I don’t feel like waiting, up and move my ass, and then expect him to cover for me. If I move down there, I need to be able to support myself. Obviously, Josh will and does help out where he can, but I can’t tie someone down to a decision that I made.

That’s not a problem. The problem is my Canadian citizenship. I hope I’m not alerting myself to the FBI here or anything, but from what I can gather, taking up physical space in the U.S. is not so much a problem as it is taking up a job. Understandably, the U.S. government is not keen on the idea of handing out jobs to foreigners while there are able bodied Americans who could be employed in that capacity instead. I’ve explored a fuckton of avenues, and it doesn’t look good. I don’t have any kind of special degree, or a lot of money. And while I’m fantastic at my job, the fact of the matter is that being a highly organized, functional, multitasking administrative assistant is not the most specialized field out there. And Josh and I are not about to get married for the sake of a Green Card. That’s retarded.

What the hell do I do then? Save up a whack of dough, first of all, but what about income beyond that? I figure I need to save up at least a couple grand to live off of for the first couple of months while I get myself settled, but I need to have an income. After being told “no, you suck” by a number of agencies, I went bawling to my friend May. Talea is plenty smart and inventive, but May is smart in different ways, and is all about me moving for the sake of love. Talea, while supportive, is less thrilled by the idea of her best friend moving 800 miles south for a couple of years, while May is used to her friends moving far and wide to chase their dreams. So May sits me down with a coffee and essentially says “Hellooooo? The internet! That’s what we do!” May and her husband are the most incredible, best-geeky-friends style, super nerd awesome couple you can imagine, and they are good at what they do. Think Tron, seriously.

And one of the best things about May is her “You can do it!” attitude. So the fun development: I am building a website! It’s solely for the purpose of making money, but I’m not a complete sell-out. It’s still going to be an awesome project that I’ve seriously contemplated for some time. But now the gears are in motion. I don’t know the first thing about computers, but with the right amount of drive, self-learning, and a little coaxing from my geek-chic friend, I should be able to make something fly.

Here’s the plan! I like to think I’m pretty awesome, and I know how to do awesome stuff. I’d like to share that awesome know-how with my buddies, blog-buddies, and the world at large. The basic premise of the site with thusly be weekly tutorial videos on how to do awesome things. How to make awesome lemon squares, how to make awesome knitting patterns, how to do an awesome hair style, makeup style, crafty project, anything! In fact, I think I’ll title it “How To Be Awesome”. And it will include a bloggy type area, and links where you can buy the fun crafty things I make (I specialize in awesome scarves and have been wanting to sell them for a while), as well as ads for stuff that I genuinely do love and endorse in the hopes that they will pay me for hawking their wares.

So that’s the big news, an official website is on the way! I’ll very likely throw a quick little something together with Google pages while I mire through the technical aspects of HTML and Dreamweaver, but I hope at few of you will come on over and check it out once it goes live.

I shall keep you posted!

The Same Ol’ Situation

The recurring conversation with a man:

Dude: So your girlfriend lives in Canada? (said incredulously and with a hint of disdain)

Me: Yeah, she lives in Toronto.

Dude: So what the fuck is wrong with you man? You do know there’s a shit ton of pussy walking around right here? Why the fuck would you hook up with some chick in another country?

Me: I didn’t exactly plan it like that, it just kind of happened. I met her online and eventually fell in love with her, and that was that.

Dude: So how can you consider it a real relationship if you aren’t even getting your dick wet? I mean, at least tell me you’re getting some strange on the side. You can’t go that long without fuckin man, it’s not healthy. You gotta respect your dick.

Me: Nope, no tang on the side, sorry to let you down. My dick will be alright. Besides, I wasn’t exactly swimming in pussy before I met her. Although now that I think about it, chicks do seem to be much more available now that I’m not looking for them. That’s weird.

Dude: Fuck all that, you’re crazy man. Suckin’ ain’t fuckin’ and eatin’ ain’t cheatin’, you know what I mean. If she can’t take care of you like a woman should you should be able to get some love when you need it. Besides how do you know she isn’t fuckin around on you up there? What happens if you find out she’s been bangin some guy this whole time and you’re passing up pussy left and right. You’re gonna regret the fuck out of all those missed chances. Bitches will do that shit, it’s not just guys who are dogs. She’s probably stringin your dumb ass along getting just what she wants and you’re too fuckin stupid to realize it.

Me: Well I don’t really know that she isn’t fuckin around on me. But then again you don’t know what your old lady is doing when she isn’t with you. For all you know she could be out sucking dick right now. I’m not worried about it, I’ll handle myself, and if I find out she’s been banging someone else I’ll deal with that when I have to. I trust her, she’s a good girl. And suckin is fuckin, eatin is cheatin, just so you know.

Dude: Aw hell no! If she’s not slinging pussy your way, you should get it where you can.

Me: So if you go on a week long trip to the beach, does that mean your woman can go fuck whoever she wants?

Dude: No way! But that’s not the point. Listen I know this chick you would love. She’s good lookin, and she has had a hard time finding good men. She just attracts scumbags. And she’s got a ton of money. She’s real thick like you like them. She could take good care of you man, trust me, you could land that. Come out this weekend, I’ll introduce you two. She’s got a kid, but a real nice house. You could probably stay there.

Me: She’s morbidly obese isn’t she? Why can’t she find a good man of her own?

Dude: No no no no, man, She’s a little bigger, but pretty in the face. She just attracts the wrong kind of guys.

Me: Yeah, like the kind of guy who would cheat on his girlfriend to sleep with a single mother with low self esteem due to her weight who habitually allows men to walk all over her and use her for money and a place to stay?

Dude: …. …. Whatever man, you’re a good guy. You could treat her right. I just can’t see how you can be in a relationship with some bitch on the other side of the planet who you aren’t even fucking.

Me: Don’t worry about my cock, I have everything under control. And besides, I already have my hands full with one woman, I sure as shit don’t need another.

The recurring conversation with a chick:

Chick: So you’re dating a girl from Canada?

Me: Yeah, we’ve been talking for ten months, and together for five.

Chick: Awwwwwww. That’s so sweet. I bet you miss her all the time don’t you?

Me: Yes, all the time. It’s rough some days, knowing she’s out there but I can’t be with her.

Chick: So she came down for a visit right? How long until you get to see her again?

Me: I don’t know, at least six months, possible years. There’s too many variables for me to put a solid estimate on it.

Chick: Oh my God! So you’re not gonna have sex for six months or more? That’s insane! (cocks head to the side) Are you really gonna wait that whole time?

Me: I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Chick: That is so, oh my God, just so romantic! You must really be in love. She’s lucky to have a guy like you. (beginning to flirt) You know my boyfriend just moved away. I just couldn’t stay with him in an exclusive relationship. I couldn’t go that long without the sexual aspect. Even if it’s not serious I just like having someone there to hold me at night, and take care of me when I need sex. (seriously hustling that pussy, batting eyes, brushing my arm, etc)

Me: Uh … yeah, being alone is definitely frustrating. But I have to keep my eyes on the prize. It took me my whole life to find someone who fit me right, and loved me as much as I loved them. I wouldn’t give that up for all the temporary affection in the world.

Chick: (getting the point) That is so sweet. I really hope you two find all the love you are looking for.

Men don’t understand how I could seriously date a girl I am not fucking every night. Even men who are married and in love. Even men with long term relationships. It’s apparently too much to wrap around their minds. They don’t understand why I would not have guilt free sex on the side when there’s no chance of it getting back to my woman. I guess they don’t understand that I found something so great it transcends sex. Something worth sacrificing everything else for. Something worth saving for. Something worth fighting for. If I just wanted pussy I wouldn’t be in a serious relationship to begin with.

Women seem to want what they can’t have. They see a man who loves a girl so much he’s willing to stay essentially alone for an undetermined amount of time in the hopes that everything will work out alright in the end. And somehow all that lip gloss and jewelry crosses the wires in their head to where they think they can just snatch that for themselves. They don’t understand that if they could succeed in stealing me away from my true love for a night they would not be getting the very thing they find so attractive. And they don’t understand that I want something so much more than a brief passion and a warm body in the morning.

It’s hard defending this thing I call love every day. It’s hard trying to explain to people how I feel when they so obviously are in a completely different place in life. But when all is said and done, I know what I have, and I know what it’s worth. I know that no matter what I have to do to get it, everything will be worth the sacrifice. I still want to fuck every hot bitch I meet at a party. I wanted too before I fell in love, and my dick didn’t stop magically working overnight. I still find tons of girls attractive. I still have needs. The difference is that now I found the pussy to end all pussies. The everlasting gobstopper of love and affection. And if I play my cards right, I’ll have something head and shoulders above the trysts that continually left me feeling more alone than before I had a stranger in my arms. The difference is that now I want to wake up to the same face for the rest of my life. And I found the face I want.

Plus VD is a bitch and I hate condoms, but whatever, all that other shit sounded more romantic.

8 Things To Do When You Turn 80

So I’ve been on this kick lately. Josh has gotten himself in some legal trouble in the past, the sort of thing that comes with the territory of being a rambunctious young adult male. Whatever. But every now and then I have to remind him that certain things aren’t such a great idea, like stealing an antennae from a cop car. I’m all for the rebel streak, don’t get me wrong. But I’d like to at least stay under the wire until the legal issues surrounding his current situation and its impact on the brouhaha that is getting one of our asses over the border have long settled down.

However, I’m not a total prude. And eventually, I say fuck it. You see, I’ve been glamourizing the elderly lately. Well not really, ’cause they’re still old and doddery with their change counting and step-shuffling. I’ve been glamourizing being old. I don’t mean old as in “Oh dear me, which wrinkle cream shall I choose to fight whatever number signs of aging the most expensive brand tells me I need to erase?” I mean old as in getting kicks out of a more realistic cryptkeeper look for scaring the shit out of the neighbourhood brats at Halloween.

I’ve got plans for those years, and I’m planning on Josh being with me. I’m sure we’ll be a little more on the frail side, but certainly no less bad ass. I used to want a nice car and have my hair done up every day, the posh old lady who’s offspring had better visit lest they be cut from the will. Nowadays, I’m more about the rickety old truck and big baggy pants. I’ll do the classy thing for a while, with the Hyacinth Bucket hats and obnoxious suits. But once the big 8-0 hits, I figure there’s more important things in life. Like living a little. And so, I have made plans for an elderly crime spree. Natch, Josh will probably be a bit more extreme than I.

Here’s what I see coming:

1. Loiter, loiter, loiter. I want to go to Timmy Ho’s and see how long it takes them to kick me out after buying one itty bitty coffee.

2. Shake, rattle and roll baby! You know the shaky old ladies sliding pennies across the counter at the pharmacy? Fuck that, I’m gonna be the one to sprinkle them all over the floor and make awkward bystanders pick them up for me. Josh is expected to clear out the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny dish.

3. Petty theft ahoy. I got in so much trouble for stealing a Skor bar when I was five. Or maybe I was never actually caught but I had to live with the fear of getting in trouble. Either way, nobody is going to stop a little old lady from walking out of the store with a chocolate bar or a pair of big plastic earrings in her confused hands, especially if she’s muttering about Julie or some other imaginary grandchild.

Hyancinth Bucket is sort of my hero

 4. Public urination. This one is more for Josh. I figure he can pee on trees in the park while I loiter nearby with my stolen chocolate. Cause peeing outdoors is difficult enough for chicks even when we don’t have brittle bones and creaking joints. However, I do plan to talk very loudly about my need for Depends, even if I don’t actually need them.

5. Impeding traffic. I’m half blind as it is, so I’m assuming I’ll have my license (if I ever get one) taken away well before 80. And Josh, wellllllll not so much with the driving. But there are scooters! Not the cool not-quite-a-motorcycle scooters that you can take for sweet jumps, but the motorized carts with little baskets on the front or back and a sign on the back that says “I may be slow, but at least I’m in front of you!”

Step one: drive cart halfway through intersection.

Step two: slow down as that little counter on the crosswalk starts to flash.

Step three: turn half way around, get lost.

Step four: as light turns in favour of oncoming traffic, putter back and forth, forgetting what the point of crossing the street was in the first place.

Step five: escorted home by police, preferably to the kids’ house as payback for all the times I’m assuming they’ll be brought home by the cops.

6. Embezzlement. Still haven’t worked this one out yet.

7. Rampant drug use. Okay, it’s already pretty apparent that I smoke weed every single day because it’s just plain good for you. But I’m not retarded enough to go lighting up a joint as I’m walking down the street. Mostly because I don’t know how to roll, although that’s beside the point. I’m completely convinced that even if it hasn’t been legalized sixty years from now, there’s going to be way worse shit distracting the po-po from one rickety old couple with funny smelling cigarettes and a really bad craving for something deep fried.

8. Drunk and Disorderly in Public. Because really, why not?