Happy Not-So-New Year

Have you noticed winter kicks my ass much? As soon as the temperature drops, my brain seems to freeze along with the pipes, and it becomes a struggle just to roll my unmotivated and generally winter-blah’d self off the futon first thing in the morning. It’s dark when I get up, it’s dark when I get off work; it’s cold, slushy, and all around miserable. Fuck winter, man. Fuck it.

The only good thing about winter so far was that I flew south to spend Christmas with Josh. Unfortunately, that merriment ended as soon as my return flight touched down in Buffalo – in the middle of a blizzard. But wait, it gets better.

One delayed hour on the frozen tarmac later, I shoved my way past throngs of snowbirding elderly (who should NOT be allowed to travel with ‘carry-ons’ they can’t lift out of the overhead compartments without assistance), ELEVEN people blocking the aisles waiting for wheelchairs, three screaming toddlers and a fat guy with a cat. My luggage took even longer. I was also starving, having only brought ten dollars for travel-food without realizing that a 9am airport breakfast of yogurt and O.J. would cost eight bucks (you’d think I’d have this figured out by now, it being my third trip), or that all the delays would bring me well past 4pm before I could get to a bank machine. Said bank machine promptly rejected my card. Turns out the last machine I had used before my vacation was of the sketchy variety, and my card had been frozen as protection against card copying fraud. In retrospect, I’m quite grateful – but try telling that to me when I’m starving, tired, and pissed.

Good thing my mom was there to pick me up, or I might have kicked something and broken toes again. She had agreed to drive me to/from Buffalo since it’s loads cheaper to fly within the U.S. than across the Can-Am border. It’s also not that long of a drive, and we’ve got fun family along the way, so she was happy to oblige. She’s also got better luck with technology – her bank card worked just fine, so off we left with a few extra bucks and the intent of stopping for a quick bite to eat before hitting the border.

And then we got outside. Ohhhh, the outside.

I’m not going to describe the outside. But it looked something like this:

static snowstorm

got snow?

And sounded something like this:

What exit do we take? Nine, nine, the map says nine. Yeah, but where is nine? I don’t know, I can hardly see anything! Oh my god, it’s getting worse! This isn’t safe, we need to pull over! I can’t see the road! There is no over to pull to! Just watch the signs, can you see them!? I’ll lean my head out the window – ack, blargh, spit, cough! – I think that’s exit…three! Exit three! So we still have…crap, a long ass way to go. Shit, this is a total white out, I can’t even see the car in front of me! From now on trips to Buffalo are only for good weather! This is so not safe, this is SO! NOT! SAFE! I think that’s a truck up there, careful. Is that a truck? I think that’s a truck. Oh fuck, that’s a truck! It’s on it’s side, it’s flipped! Swerve, swerve!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!

Soooo, yeah. That sucked. By the time I got home and into bed I was already counting down until my next vacation.

On the plus side, Southwest Airlines gave me a spiffy credit for the whole ordeal, enough to cover a flight! Totally worth the hassle, I’d say, especially since within-US flights not around Christmas are pretty reasonably priced, so as soon as I’ve got time saved up at work again I’m getting my ass back on a plane.

In the meantime, here’s some highlights from the holidays:

kiss love woot!

Lovin' up on my man.

manly construction

Josh being manly with his tools. Haha. Tools.

dogs rage against the removal of the carpet

The dogs were less than thrilled with the decision to reno out the carpeting.

dog wood flooring

New wood floors are confusing!

rad kitchen friends

Visiting rad friends in their rad kitchen

the puppy and the boyfriend

Not our puppy 😦

hockey night in...NC

My dad sent a Leafs jersey down as a Christmas gift - woot!

Scrapbook

Josh took me out to choose a scrapbook for our photos...

scrapbook

...and even helped me put it together!

cute shirts much?

I got us matching paw-holding otter shirts! (Which other than this one photo op, will not be worn simultaneously - because there's cute and then there's revolting.)

What’s the deal with the otter shirts? I saw them on icanhascheezburger as a shirt-of-the-day just before I left Toronto and HAD to have them. So I bought them on the spot and had them shipped down to us to arrive just before Christmas as a surprise! Why otters? Because Josh had sent me this video a while earlier to make me smile:

Advertisements

Knitting Fail

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.

Observe.

Baby Sock Win

I got the pattern here.

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.

Baby Socks Fail

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.

Stupid needles.

And the Academy Award Goes to Me.

Greetings everyone! I have received this lovely award from JavaQueen. It’s not the Academy Award, but it’s still quite awesome. She herself is also quite awesome, I highly recommend you give her a look-see. Anyhoo, I am passing it along!

untitled

The “Let’s Be Friends” Award:

These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this written text into the body of their award.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Seriously, the internet is the best place ever to meet friends. It’s also the best place ever to meet sketchy characters selling assorted body parts out of the trunks of cars, but I guess that depends on where you look. As for me, I found love! So that’s where I’ll start.

Sprinting to Hell: This is Josh’s main blog, although he technically co-writes 800 Miles with me. My first impressions of him were at STH where he often lets loose a hilarious tirade against the man, the machine, the world at large. At other times it’s a who’s-who of awesome sights and sounds, of corners of the internet you would rarely otherwise brave, and if nothing else a brief glimpse into how rad a boyfriend I’ve got. Thanks, internet, for leading me to Mr. Right. Totally Fucking Badass Awesome Right. I probably wouldn’t have found him without your help, given the ridiculous distance and all. The next round is on me.

And now for some real life friends (other than Josh that is, who is obviously my friend as well.)

No Really, It’s Just My Face: This is Talea’s blog. Talea is snarky, hilarious, and unapologetic. In real life, she is my best bud, at my hip damn near 24-7 and less than 20 feet away from me at the office. Technically she’s my boss I guess, but whatever. We belch a lot. When either of us leave the city (which is rare, as we both adore Toronto and all its oddities), the other is always left dazed, confused, and more than a little pissed. Nobody is more excited about me staying in Toronto than Talea.

Except for maybe these two awesome ladies who are both very thrilled that I am staying, and equally thrilled that Josh is moving on up!

So Very Domestic: This is my friend May’s blog. May is what you would get if Bif Naked beat the hell-ass out of Martha Stewart and ran the outcome through the internet about eleventy-seven times. Like, hardcore.  She added another wee one to her growing brood very recently, and within a week was up baking, knitting, and sewing together little skull-and-crossbone diapers. Seriously. Don’t cross her in an alley – she could beat you up if she wanted, and then make you feel bad about it when she bakes 3 pies the next day.

Romi: If you haven’t met Romi, you are missing out. She was the first real-life friend I met on the blogosphere, after Talea and I coerced her into meeting us for a birthday related night of drunken debauchery, cupcakes, candy, and an ill-advised venture into the gastro-instestinal distress that is the combination of cheeze-whiz and jam. The latter, I assure you, was not Romi’s idea. Either way, she is fantastic, in blog world and 3D world. Go read her stuff right now. She used to promise cake in exchange for readership, but this is no longer. Now you have to read her blog or endure beat-downs from yours truly.

And for my remaining four choices, some terrific people who may not be my friends in 3D, but are sure awesome nonetheless.

Praying to Darwin: Ginny is cool as shit. Ginny seems like the kind of gal I’d really like to hang around with, or maybe at the office while Talea and I act like morons. She seems like she’d be down. I’d totally be her bud in 3D if I wasn’t scared away by the million miles of snow, wheatfields and oilsands I’d have to traverse (or, you know, whatever is outside of Ontario – in my head it’s all snow, wheatfields and oilsands. And mountains and junk, but they’re past her block.)  She’s flippin’ hilarious and has good taste in flooring. Because these things matter to me. Go read her stuff. Like, right now. I’ll wait.

Joan Harvest: Joan gives me the warm fuzzies all over. Every time she calls someone a dumbass, I want to hug her and tell her she’s awesome. Joan, you’re awesome! She has one of the coolest little houses I’ve ever seen, (I’m in love with her porch) and all sorts of great stories, many of which revolve around broken asses and the art of self defense with a cane. She’s the kind of lady you want to have around, you never know when cane-fu might come in handy!

Birdpress: Ok, so you know how I’m all madly in love with a guy named Josh, who I met over a vast distance and am now trying to bring into my permanent 3D world? Yeah, she pretty much did too! And now she’s married to her Josh, so clearly these things work! 😉 She’s also the rad chick who sent those five questions to me that I finally got around to answering with my Josh (sorry it took so long, and thanks! They were super fun.) Good times, good times. Get reading!

VeggieMacabre: I’m all about people who have the guts to just up and move hundreds of miles, and then do stuff like fight fires, avoid death, sew balls on reindeer sweaters, and other fun activities. Always a good read. If Will happened to stop by our general vicinity, I’m pretty sure Josh and I would have bitchin’ fun times going out for beer with this dude. Cheers Will!

Alrighty folks, that’s all for me at the moment. But if you’re still craving more, you have plenty of me-approved reading to keep you occupied. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go finish packing for the trip that’s still over a month away, and then nibble at my cuticles while the clock ticks.

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Ugh!

Two Paws Up!

two-paws-up

Woot! I have been given this award by the lovely Birdpress, whom I enjoy immensely! Like her, I am tempted to just hand this out to everyone on my blogroll, but agree that would be too easy. Her numerology idea to figure out how many recipients to pic is pretty nifty:

To calculate your numerology number:
Suppose your birth date was January 1, 2009
Add the numbers in your birth date like this:
• January 1, 2009 = 01/01/2009
• 01/01/2009 = 0+1+0+1+2+0+0+9 = 13
• 13 = 1+3 = 4

However, it gave me a three. And while I cannot claim to be a numerology expert, some other method eons ago came up with a four. Since it seemed to make plenty of personality-associated sense at the time, and I’m all about handing out more rather than less good tidings, I will choose four awesome recipients to proudly display their own two paws up award.

JavaJunkee

Ginny over at Praying to Darwin

Peter Parkour at Hate and Anger

Romi

I would also award one to Joan Harvest and my bestie Talea, but they were awarded along with me! I figure it’s best to spread the love further, hehe.

Oh, and since technically I do share this blog with Josh, I’m just going to go ahead and slather an extra bit of love over his other blog as well 😉

Peace out! I’ve got more shit to knit!

Winter Wonderland

Okay, it’s not *quite* Wonderland out there, especially because to us Southern Ontarians, Wonderland is a place with a lot of fun rides and over priced chili fries.

This would suck covered in ice

This would suck covered in ice

But somehow, I’m not super pissed about the snow this year. I’m actually sort of….well I’m afraid that if I say I’m enjoying it I’ll get skewered by a foot long icicle – ’tis the way of the winter justice. I am surprised, however, by how minimally pissed I am at this most recent dumping of chilly, frozen flaked water all over my city.

It could be for a number of reasons:

– I have purchased, for the first time in many years, a ‘sensible’ pair of boots. Wedge heel. Fuzzy. Muklukish without being ugly. On sale. None of this ‘winter heel’ business for me anymore.

Fashionable, yet not retarded

– I have a nice coat. Not just a warm coat, but a nice, long, extremely pretty and in-style coat that makes me feel like I’m in Casablanca. Except, you know, with ice.

coat

Not this nice, but pretty close

– Up until this morning when I had to take a $5 taxi ride two blocks to the subway station, I had the transit schedule all figured out. This one might take some readjusting, but generally speaking I am able to leave my apartment right before the bus pulls up to the stop just across the street. Less than five minutes outside in the mornings? I can dig it.

Boourns!

– Indoor shopping. Toronto is used to the cold, and so there are a myriad of ways to get your shopping done, even grocery shopping, without ever having to step foot outside. Malls connect to the subway system, and once you get right into the core of the city, the PATH winds through most of the major buildings and transit, all without even looking towards the doors outside. Now if I can just find an indoor laundromat…

This is indoors, suckers! Mahahaha!

Toronto's PATH system: because the outdoors is for losers

– In the event that I do not find an indoor laundromat, I have discovered one that is even closer to my apartment than the one I’ve been using hitherto. I don’t even have to cross any intersections, which can be kind of dicey on my street. It’s a little more expensive and frankly not as nice, but it’s smaller, not as busy, plays classical music, and has no attendant. You’d think that would be a downside, but I prefer to not have people around when I’m out running errands or washing my undergarments.

– Toronto does have some rad winter stuff going on. And by the time I’m back here I’ll have someone who’ll actually be excited to attend such events even though we do, as Josh puts it, “turn everything into some weird abstract art thing.”

Cavalcade of Lights

Weird abstract art - still pretty!

 – I have a new weapon against the frozen, treacherous tundra that will be my sidewalks within a few weeks. It’s a phone number. You call it and tattle on all the lazy fucktards that didn’t shovel their snow, letting it instead be compounded into frozen footprints that are out to break my ankles every year. Seriously, I have developed this ridiculous fear of breaking my ankles. I will call that number fifteen times a day if I have to. I’ll call it on my own damn landlords. My ankles are grateful for my city’s well-spent tax dollars.

OW MY ANKLES!!! AND POSSIBLY KNEES!!!

– It’s a white Christmas! Surprisingly enough, we almost never get snow in time for Christmas. It shows up right at the beginning of January and clobbers our asses until Easter. And given that with a little luck this should be my last Canadian Christmas for a couple of years, I’m very pleased that the weather is going all storybook for me this time around.

My place does not look like this...but up the street it does!

– Money has been okay this year. I didn’t have to carefully plan each and every gift according to how many groceries I’d have to knock off the list. I was able to go out and buy exactly what I wanted without a second thought. Which does wonders for those last minute items, especially when Christmas is distressingly close to the rent cheque.

Damn expensive holiday!

And now the big reason:

– I told the Family to fuck off this year. Well not really, but I’ve never enjoyed the whole family holiday thing. And this year I said so.

Last year was a big deal. It was the last year my grandparents would be around before moving to Quebec, and my long lost cousin flew in with his fiancee from Vancouver. So for the first time in….possibly ever, that entire side of the family was together for Christmas. I went, even though I was ridiculously medicated and probably an embarassment. It was a big deal to me, and I went out of my way to get a little something for everybody, even the fiancee I’d never met. This year, I’m doing my own thing.

This year, I am going to a friends house for a Christmas Eve visit with her and the wee ones. I’ll wake up by myself – seriously, how is this some kind of tragedy? I don’t get it. I’m going to make sure I have a super clean kitchen the night before, and will make myself a really nice breakfast with mimosas and eggs florentine. I’ll say Merry Christmas to Josh if he’s around, and then make my way to the same friends house for a big gathering with her and her awesomely Greek family for what she is dubbing “Orphan Christmas.” There will be food, drink, and a related assortment of merriment. And since they’re Greek there will be more festivities for Orthodox Christmas later on. I’ll see my actual family in small, quiet doses on Boxing Day.

It’s not that I don’t like my family. I just don’t understand why every year we all rush through our Christmas mornings to haul our asses out to the suburbs in ridiculous holiday traffic to get to The Big Family Event by 2pm. Everyone bitches every year because the same aunt/uncle always show up late. I adore this aunt/uncle because they do their holidays their way. They open their gifts slowly and take the time to appreciate them, and show up to The Big Family Event when it suits them. The rest of us are usually in mid-crisis by this point. There is screaming and frantic organizing, paper thrown to and fro, gifts exchanged between cousins who don’t even know each other in ‘real life’. Food shovelled onto plates. I usually fill up on carrots and potatos. Every year I leave exhausted, cranky, shaky, carrying buckets of stuff that someone less fortunate could use far more than I, and I usually don’t remember who got me what. Then we all drive further into the frozen suburbs to visit even more extended family and stand around awkwardly. Everyone else seems to know how to do this, but I’m still lacking the ability to care about people I only see once a year. So I leave even more cranky, sleep deprived, with the general feeling of having been poked and prodded unpleasantly, and the lingering fear of “am I the only one who doesn’t know how to do this shit?” I do not enjoy these excursions.

Like this but with more panic and no Cousin Eddie

Also, I know you don’t really have to be religious these days, but what is this need to cram ourselves together in a room to celebrate what amounts to not much more than a giant shopping spree?

a christmas exegesis

As far as I’m concerned, if you’re not into the religious aspect of it, then the spirit of Christmas is more about little kids. Seeing them get all excited, hear stories about reindeer and gingerbread things. I’ve got one age-appropriate cousin that I never see, and all other cousins/siblings/etc. are well past the age of Santa. So I don’t see the point, especially when the little one has no idea who I am. My friends kids, on the other hand, run to the door when I visit! “Auntie Em, yaaaaay!!!” I am so all about that this year.

So!

I’m thinking that Christmas and winter in general is stressing me out far less this year because I finally feel like a grown up. I’ve got my shit together, I know what I’m doing, and I’m not overly concerned with how I’m expected to celebrate. I’ve got awesome friends this year and an awesome boyfriend next year (and this year, but especially next year.) The coming months are already filled with plans of adventure and I’m really looking forward to it. 2008 started off a bit rough but is ending fantastically. 2009 should kick even further ass.

I’ll see y’all there! And until then, I’m going to keep doing it my way.

Holiday Hootenanny

Ok, so we weren’t supposed to have any kind of ‘Holiday’ gathering at the office this year, over-PC’d or otherwise. Economy blah blah blah. It’s not as huge a deal as one might think – the nature of our business requires a very small staff. The majority of those around us are clients renting space. So while you’d be miffed if your roommates didn’t invite you to a Christmas party, it’s no big deal if your landlord skimps on the Seasons Greetings, dig?

Still, I was having none of it. To hell with my clients, I want a day or two to revel in my emerging domestic tendencies. I do a little breakfast thing once a month for the office. Its generally a thankless job but it provides a creative outlet and a break from the humdrum of complaints and photocopying. So I convinced the Boss Man and his cohort Talea to let me spend a little more of the company cash this month and holiday it up, yo!

So yeah, I slaved over an oven for a few thank yous, but I also got to take a day off work and bake all day. That means sampling all day.

Peep what I can do!

Sugar Cookies - Almost There

Sugar Cookies - Almost There

Sugar Cookies - Done!

Sugar Cookies - Done!

Sugar Cookies - Lots!

Sugar Cookies - Lots!

I made several dozen Sugar and Brown Sugar Cookies and used up the last of my sprinkles on the plain sugar ones for decoration.  They’re colourful and take up space – and who doesn’t love eating cookie bears head first?

Lemon Squares

Lemon Squares

My lemon squares are awesome if I do say so myself. I got basic recipe on AllRecipes.com somewhere, and made a few adjustments by adding tons of vanilla and almond. I’m starting to think I can spike them with rum too, but I’d like to remember Christmas this year. These are addictive.

By this point I’d been baking for about four hours. Break time!

chillin1

Chilling with my sexy man

Yeah, this is how Josh and I spend quality time together. Over MSN with a not-always-functioning webcam. Stupid technology. Thankfully the cams were working well on this particular night so I could chat with him while being able to actually step away and use my hands for baking instead of typing.

Here’s my other recreational activity:

Eventually, they approved of the cranberries

Eventually, they approved of the cranberries

The bunnies! They turned their wiggly noses up at the dried cranberries at first, but eventually when I wasn’t looking they decided to like them.

Back to work!

I spent all of Wednesday running back and forth between my kitchen, Honest Ed’s for bakeware, and the local Metro for a ridiculous amount of baking ingredients. I lugged so much sugar and flour up my ridiculous winding stairs that my ass literally hurts. I’m baking, and my ass hurts. Fantastic.

These are the last two pictures I managed to take before I fell into a sugar-based daze that I’m only now coming out of:

mmmmmmm delicious...

mmmmmmm delicious...

mmmmmmm delicious side view

mmmmmmm delicious side view

These. Are. SO good. I’m not quite sure of their name, but they shall henceforth be known as Fantasmic. Fantasmic in bar form. Super buttery shortbread on the bottom, brown sugary caramel ooey gooey oh-fuck-its-melting-everywhere-gimme-a-spoon deliciousness in the middle, and chocolate-peanut-butter-cranberry goodness on top. You can’t eat more than two of these. Well, you can eat as many as you want, but chances are the paramedics will find you twenty minutes later huddled in a corner with drool and butter all over your silly face.

And um, yeah. I ate several. Not to mention I was under a bit of a time constraint, because everything always takes three times longer than you think it will. So I spaced out at this point and forgot to document the shortbread topped with hand whipped cream and berries. As well as the cranberry walnut cookies and the rice krispie squares.

Anyways, it was a magnificent spread. I threw it all in the boardroom and topped it off with a nice assortment of fruit and cheese to lighten the sugar-shock a bit. I wanted to throw on a Christmas movie at the last minute, but Shoppers across the street with those $9.99 dvd’s didn’t have anything even remotely holiday-oriented. Littlest Hobo something or other, and that just wouldn’t do. So the shindig was held to the soundtrack of “Oooh, yes I’ll try one of those, I – oh wow. These are SOOOOOO good!” Which was the only thing I needed to hear amidst the occasional “What, no wine?”  (“Um, it’s noon.”) and “Where’s the burgers?” to keep me happy.

Also, my uber boss showed up. He’s quite nice but very nerve wracking because while being  nice he’ll discretely brush up against a wall and judge you based on its cleanliness. If he picks up a piece of marketing propaganda placed on a table and asks “Why is this here?” the answer is always “It’s not!” *toss* You know the type. So I was out to impress and impress I did. He ate enough of those Fantasmic things that the sugar sent him into the most hilarious state I’ve ever seen. Very concerned with his appearance he rarely indulges in sugar – hadn’t, he confessed, for about six months. That he took seconds, thirds, and then some for the road was a compliment indeed. I’m pretty sure that by the end of the day he thought he was a hummingbird.

And now, at the end of a week long stretch of prepping, baking, hauling and coordinating, after being up until 1am Thursday/Friday to get the last of the shortbread done and spending all of Friday fussing and organizing (eating various forms of sugar because I forgot to feed myself real food) rushing and cleaning, and then attending an impromptu family-friend art event (What? Where the hell did that come from? That was this week? Who am I? What’s a hypotenuse?) followed by a Stitch n’ Bitch today, I am finally home and I’m starting to think that I’m the hummingbird.

I.

Am.

Pooped!

I go now. I go to the couch and the tv and the bed. I sleep. Then I wake up and clean like a madwoman – but I shall pay that no mind tonight! Tonight I kick my feet up with some reheated pizza, and I don’t want to see any more shortbread for a good long time.

By which I mean probably tomorrow night.

One Year of Kick-Yer-Ass Awesome

Josh and I met one year ago today. He’s not home right now, and I just got back in from dinner with my mother and now feel like ass. So as far as anniversaries go, it’s probably not the most idealistic. But I still feel like the biggest winner ever. I’m so in love it’s retarded.

We met, quite randomly, via wordpress…and fine, blogspot too I guess, which is where he was before switching to wordpress. In fact, my first comment to him started off with how crap blogspot is. I found him from a comment he left on my post written about the equally crap Toronto Independent Music Awards (crap because there were more thank-you’s to the corporate supporters than actual music or info, and as usual, my usual posse of strange morons abounded in all their poorly-dressed glory).

He wrote:

Despite my general distaste for the Indie scene in general, I loved your account of the evening. I wish I could get this post drunk and seduce it into a one night stand that ends akwardly but still leaves both parties gratified. In fact this could just about be any awards show at any shitty club. It would have been the exact same lame ass people/bull shit. And take pride in how many people you pissed off. They were probably the bald deuche bags that blocked traffic with their charitable buggery. And forget about the grammar. Grammar is for class work and science articles. This is teh facking interweb noobs. Mother fuckers don’t have to grammarize shit if they don’t feel like it! Ask any LOLcat.

(ed note: I had gotten a lot of grammar-related shit from Indie lovers, and may or may not have pissed off a charitable organization en route to the show.)

Your blog has a perfect title, cause after reading it for the first time, it sort of feels like christmas time. Rock on Green Metropolis. I like chicks with balls. (not actual balls mind you, the metaphorical sort of balls that don’t clutter up the paradice city that is the ball-less vagina)

Lolcats and vaginas. How could I resist? I took a trip on over to his page and found a cool, hilarious, foul-mouthed character who instantly pulled me in with his ranting and raving over Google difficulties. Clearly, we were two awesome people waylayed by the jackassery surrounding us.

I wrote:

yeah, i’m with ben about the wordpress.com leaflet. But can I tell you that you’re awesome? I have totally blogrolled you (not that I remember how I repaired it), and if you happen to be at my site, you might find a kindred spirit with my post “Fuck you, you fucktarded fucking fuckbags.” Just a thought.

Kindred spirits indeed. More like meant to be.

And if you’re wondering who ‘ben’ is, he was some random person who commented just before me with *sneaks in*leaves a wordpress leaflet*sneaks out. I have no idea who he is, but I agreed and decided to say so. I’d thank him for his small role in this tale, but his blog is long abandoned with no contact. Oh well, we all play a bit-part in someone’s story.

It continued on from there, with more comments and almost immediate flirting. I was smitten. So was he. We each talked to our mutual e-friends about each other (*cough*Romi*cough*Talea-even-though-she’s-my-real-friend-too*cough*) while still avoiding the terrifying reality that is turning to someone you have a total crush on and telling them how you feel.

We began talking via msn, and facebook, sending each other long letters every day, sometimes two, or letters so long that facebook insisted on multiple…

…..

Sorry, multiple installments. Got a little distracted there. Ahem.

Right, lots of letters. Paragraph upon paragraph exploring our lives and our very different worlds. Our experiences with life, love and everything in between. In regards to our lives, they were and continue to be very different. We always have something to talk about, even though we’ve reached the point where we’re comfortable just sitting quietly together. In regards to love, we had both been jilted a few times. He had mentioned a few girls, and I disapproved of them – partially because I’m naturally a very judgemental person and mostly because I was already jealous and wanted him for my own. And I was rotating between a few non-committal characters that he could already recognize as completely wrong for me.

I’ve been reading back through our letters, and while I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it became clear that we were head over heels, there was a day where I announced my belief that a horrible joke was being played on us – we would so obviously be together if not for the 800 miles between us. From that point, we gradually changed from friends to more-than-friends with no effort at all. It’s like we had been together all along, and it only made sense. The 800 miles no longer seemed like a factor in a decision. It wasn’t a matter of choosing whether or not to pursue something that was sure to be difficult. It was now a simple fact that we were together, and there was this giant space between us that had to be conquered. We had started dating without having yet met.

On March 11th of this year, after he wrote a long, heartfelt, romantic letter on facebook, promptly had it accidentally erased, and then simply blurted out over msn “I’m in love with you,” Josh and I became an official ‘couple’. It’s awesome. He is awesome. We are awesome. Having Josh has changed me in so many ways for the better, and for once I feel like I’m doing something right. I win. I win, I win, I win I win I win. Whatever lottery or system of karma that determines who we find in life to carry us through, be it luck, destiny, fate, randomness, whatever you feel like calling it, I hit the total jackpot.

And here’s the best part: we’re not just in love (as well as total and complete lust), we’re in like. I *like* Josh. I can fart on him. He can fart on me. I can cry in front of him. I can rant and rave and be a total weirdo. He can insist on ridiculous manly things, be in funny moods, and send me e-cards to inform me that the bird is in fact, the word. He can comment freely on how hot such-and-such an actress is, and I still have my other boyfriends (Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue and George Stroumboulopoulos of CBC’s The Hour – as long as they don’t find out, since people do resort to restraining orders and whatever) because at the end of the day I feel totally secure that Josh is my man and will be there when I need him. Emotional security is not an easy accomplishment for a crazy girl like me, but Josh ninja-kicked his way through and ran off with my heart, leaving me with nothing to say except “Awesome. Count me in.”

*Round of Applause*

So today is not our official one year anniversary, but it’s still a pretty awesome day. Because we’re not just a couple, we’re friends too. And that is totally worth celebrating.

Meme Me Up, Scotty!

Okay, okay, I couldn’t help myself. I got sucked into a meme that I found on JavaQueen’s place, mostly just cause I like the first question. So you can play along if you’d like, or just enjoy 😉

What side of a heart do you draw first?

The right side. And my left is always lopsided 😦

Can you dive without plugging your nose?

Yes I can, though you will never catch me at a public pool because I don’t like swimsuits or at least not in public. I also have a horrific fear of open water (a lot of it has to do with the fact that I can’t wear my glasses when I’m swimming, and I’m so blind without them that I feel vulnerable – if I wake up in the middle of the night, I need my glasses to hear)

What color is your phone?

I have two phones. One is black and silver with an orange screen. My cell phone is silver. I also have a pink phone in my drawer, but it’s shitty and not cordless. I’d say my next cell phone will be pink or green or something else snazzy, but it probably won’t be because I think spending a lot of money on a fashionable cell phone is retarded.

Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?

Surprisingly, not Talea, even though she’s my best friend. That would probably make us both very squirmy and uncomfortable, like the time I told Josh Talea and I were wearing the same shirt. I meant identical shirts, but he though we were both crammed into one sweater in some vague male fantasy. I could stay tied to Josh for 24 hours because it would go very quickly – sex, nap, food, sex, nap, shower, sex, sleep, oh hey you wanna stay tied together today too?

Where are you right now?

Relieving my receptionist for her cigarette break. Why don’t I get a cigarette break? Just because I don’t smoke means I don’t get breaks? I want to say I’m going on a smoke break and just stand outside for ten minutes, crossing my arms and lounging while everyone stares at me confused.

* actually, by the time I hit ‘publish’ I’m now sitting here nursing a wicked hangover.

How do you feel about carrots?

Good snack food, and I can share with my rabbits. I don’t mean ‘take a bite of carrot, give rabbit a bite of carrot, take a bite of carrot.’ That’s gross. I just like to eat a bowl of mini carrots with one of my rabbits next to me and let them have one here and there. Sometimes they’ll eat them, sometimes they’ll be hideously offended that I would even suggest they might like one and throw it back at me.

How many chairs at the dining room table?

Me? Dining room table? Mahahahahahahaha!!!! Have you SEEN my kitchen? It’s a walk in closet in front of my couch.

Who is the best Spice Girl?

Uhhh, the slutty one.

Do you know what time it is?

10:13 am. Of course I know what time it is, I’m writing this on a computer which always has the time.

What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?

Nap. If I woke up and I was still stuck, I’d start crying probably.

What’s your favorite kind of gum?

I don’t like any sort of minty crap, I like fruity stuff. But gum is one of those things where I’ll swipe a pack from work now and then or ask Talea to give me a stick of whatever she’s got (which is usually watermelon or otherwise fruity, she’s got good taste – and I usually pay her back in baked goods). I never really buy gum because I always think “But why? It’s useless. I mean, ice cream doesn’t serve much of a purpose, but at least you get to eat it.” Gum is a waste of money in my mind. Of course, that may have to do with working in a bubblegum factory all those years ago. I still can’t bring myself to pay for something that I feel I should be able to just pick up and put in my pocket.

T or F: All is fair in love and war?

Well, you have to define those words clearly. All is not fair in relationships – I can’t take a bad day out on Josh because that’s not fair, even though he loves me and could probably take it in stride. And no, you can’t pull unfair shit in a war, because eventually (*cough*America*cough*) someone is going to turn around and kick you in the teeth. Though I guess that’s a very special sort of fair…

As for *getting* love, yeah, all’s fair. I don’t know if it would have mattered to me if Josh had been with another girl when I up and decided I wanted him for my own. I’m pretty determined sometimes 😉 And of course when it comes to protecting those you love, things that would normally be considered assault are probably pretty fair.

Do you use words that you don’t know the meaning to?

I try very hard not too. Especially if I’m going to be giving someone shit for something, cause that’s the worst time to make an ass of yourself. My mother once stated very sternly that she had ‘no toleration for this kind of behaviour.’ Right. That’s a good way to discipline and smart 15 year old…

Do you like to sleep?

I do love sleeping, and get nowhere near enough. I find napping isn’t often a good idea though, I usually end up waking up sickish and groggy.

Do you know which US states don’t use Daylight Savings?

I don’t know about states. But I know Saskatchewan doesn’t. Pfffft. Saskatchewan.

Do you know the song Sugar We’re Goin‘ Down?

No.

Do you want a bright yellow ‘06 mustang?

Um, no? I wouldn’t mind a Dodge Ram V8 Sport, and my dad just bought a sweet new Malibu.

What’s something you’ve always wanted?

Have you ever seen Iron Man? No, I don’t want Robert Downey Jr. in excessive make-up. Well, maybe just for a while. What I really want is Jarvis, the computer that runs the house and knows what I’m talking about when I say “That…thing, that fiddly thing, bring it over here.” Having a physical extension of my brain without the limitations of the human body would be friggin RAD, and I wouldn’t have to keep pads of paper around for all my thought processes.

Do you wear a lot of black?

Yes. It’s slimming, fashionable, matches with everything and works well in the corporate environment. I’m not so sure you can get to that snazzy CEO position in a floral print…

Describe your hair

Grows FAST! Just over a year ago it was Orphan-Annie short and curly, and now it’s past my shoulders. It’s curly and can either look clipped up and classy or circa 1987 gnarly, depending on the day.

Are you an adult?

Let’s see, I bitch about my commute, my bills, my clients, my life (even though for the most part my life is pretty damn sweet) and I’ve got a desperate need for a hazlenut coffee with two cream and one sweetener every weekday morning. I’m worried about mutual funds. Yes, I am an adult and I don’t know when the fuck that happened.

Who is your best friend?

Talea, closely followed by May, and of course Josh is pretty rad too, and we were friends before we were all in love and junk, so he counts too.

Do you have a tan?

Not particularly, though when I do tan I keep it for a long ass time. I just don’t go outside often enough. I spend about five minutes outside in the morning and evening gettting on and off the streetcar, but from the streetcar to work it’s all underground. And when I’m at home I’m in front of the computer on website/blogging business or knitting.

Are you a television addict?

Nah. I generally know what show is on what channel at what time (which is easy when you only have about five channels – yeah, clearly not addicted) but I’ll say “I have to watch the Simpsons at 7:30!!!” but then when it comes on, I’m always doing something else like cooking or knitting or cleaning.

Do you enjoy spending time with your mom?

In very small doses, yes. She’s adorable, but frazzled and listening to her stress out stresses me out.

Are you a sugar freak?

YES PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!
What is your favorite movie?
I have no idea, but lately I am so all about Iron Man.

What’s your sign?

Saggitarius, but on the cusp of Scorpio. I’m stubborn AND demanding – awesome.

Where do you wish you were right now?

Frankly, I wish I were in North Carolina getting laid and not having to worry about the effects of the upcoming winter on my poor brain.

Who did you copy this from?

JavaQueen! 😀

How do you know them?

The blogworld.

Would you have sex with them?

Ummmm, no?

What brand of shirt are you wearing?

H&M. Pretty much everything I own is from H&M, because it’s the Ikea of clothing. Cheap, fantastic, but unlike Ikea, it’s conveniently located at the mall, and right by the subway entrance too, which means I don’t have to wander into the idiot-packed mall itself.

Have you ever smoked anything?

Hi, have we met? The only time I’m NOT smoking weed is when I’m at work. Need to be on my A-game when people start bitching about phones, internet, mysterious charges that they don’t agree to despite the signature on their lease, blah blah blah blah blah. I don’t think laughing at them and/or trying to explain global economics would be much appreciated…

Why Ami Sucked

I’m going to tell you a little story about someone I used to know. It’s a long story, not very crafty, and only relationshippy if you kind of stretch your definitions. But I think it’s worth sharing. I was inspired to share this tale with you by Ginny and her Tupperware Story, because nothing is more awesome than tales of woe about people who pissed you off in your past. This is the tale of a douchey girl, how she pissed me off, and how I kicked her ass at life.

I was about six months out of my first year at university, in which my aim had been Forensic Psychology. I still love the topic, but math makes me angry. A lot of other factors were involved, but long story short, I went a little crazy and flipped university the bird.

So! That summer I went back to work at the Bubblegum Factory. I won’t get into these details right now, but suffice it to say that working from 7pm to 7am in fluorescent lighting and a white jumpsuit really isn’t good for your failing and flailing mental health.

And yet it was better than uni (though clearly not for very long with those hours), so come September, I asked them to extend my contract for another six months so I could earn buckets of cash while figuring out how to turn my new interest (painting up models for photographers) into a career.

After wisely drinking away most of what I earned at the factory and taking out a huge loan to pay for three months at a private makeup school, I was broke like nobodies business. Things are back on track now, but the makeup thing didn’t work out. Turns out everybody and their mother is a makeup artist in Toronto, and frankly I wasn’t in any kind of mental shape to start my own business.

And so, like so many, I resorted to the world of telemarketing. My first gig was calling up people who had filled out a form at some trade show for what they believed to be a free vacation because they didn’t bother reading the back of the form. My job was to call these people up, listen to them excitedly tell their toddlers that they were going to fucking Disneyland (it wasn’t actually Disneyland, it was somewhere with dolphins but I’ve blocked most of it out) and then hear their disappointment after telling them that it wasn’t free, it was just seriously discounted and of course they had to pay their own airfare and sit through a presentation. 

Ami was an admin assistant there. Eventually, we both left the company, and wound up selling gas contracts. It was a difficult sell given the dip in prices at the time, but those fuckers would be laughing now. The difference now is that Ami was my manager. And she was terrible at her job.

This is where I became friends with Talea. She was the quiet office manager who also answered all the phones. She ran the entire office from her little desk. When we became friends, she had me bumped up to reception because it was too much work for her. I quickly began to realize why. Everything Ami touched went wrong. Not a week went by where she claimed to have never received an email despite the record of it having been sent from Talea’s or my own computer. Not a day went by where I didn’t have to set aside forty five minutes to fix something she had fucked up. Not a day went by where I didn’t look over at her desk and see her surfing through cute animal pictures. Not an hour went by where she didn’t spend ten minutes in the bathroom reapplying eight coats of whore red lipstick and adjusting her tight-bottomed skirt. Talea later told me that she had initial doubts about talking to me because Ami was my friend and frankly, Talea can’t handle stupid people. Thankfully, neither can I, so Ami and I were destined to part ways eventually.

To be fair though, Ami wasn’t skanky, despite the ill-fitted skirt. No. She was a relationship whore, the kind of girl who doesn’t seem to know who she is unless she’s in a relationship. She was never Ami, she was always Ami-and. Ami-and-whoever.

Ami had a friend at work. His name was Scott, and he did the recruiting. Recruiters for shitty telemarketing jobs are, by the very nature of the task at hand, soulless little fuckers. But I liked him. We got along, watched some games, drank some beer, and before long, had a casual little thing going. Before it could go anywhere, Ami’s boyfriend dumped her and moved out of their apartment. She took back her psychotic ex from years ago, and within a week he had moved back to Toronto from Montreal to live with her. Woah nelly, a little fast do you think? “I’m not afraid to just jump in,” she would explain. Well, I hope she’s afraid now. It took about a week before she realized what a terrible idea it was and went crying to Scott.

Scott turned to me while I was sitting next to him on the couch one night while we were all hanging out at his place pretending to be friends, and told me that he was going to be with Ami now. Ami was in the other room, passed out from their mutual love of too much booze. I got to share the cab home with her. Less than a month later, they had moved out of their apartments and into a nifty little townhouse together. Woah nelly, a little fast do you think? And very expensive too, she admitted. They had decided that instead of spending money on going out, they would spend that money on their cute little home.

Well. Isn’t that darling? Just fucking precious.

Now here’s the thing about me. I’m very, VERY vindictive. But the details of how I plotted to overthrow her, my careful documentation of her every screw-up are not necessary here. Because another thing about me is this funny luck I have where things just work out.

This happened in late January, I would say. In early March, our division shut down. We were given 24 hours notice but assured that interviews had been arranged for each of us in other departments of the parent company. Talea was moved to the other side of the building and I missed her terribly all of five minutes away. I was kept in the same position at reception – seems they decided to give the little project one last go with new people. Scott quit in a big huff.

Ami was given a ‘no hire’ on her resume, and was very quickly out of work.

I went over to their new place one evening in some vague effort to patch things up back when I still thought that “that’s what you’re supposed to do.” Scott was snippy at her for not being able to find a new job yet, while he was at least looking. He was miserable, she was sick. She didn’t get that job at the vet’s office she had hoped for, since they chose someone with more education. She was considering getting a job as a cashier at a grocery store. They were broke, drunk, and a lot of tension was in the air. I left, knowing I would never be back. If nothing else, their place was damned inconvenient to get to.

But, as is often the case in Toronto (which means ‘meeting place’, by the way) I’ve seen her here and there in the subway system. I don’t know if that was her latest boyfriend she was walking beside, but it sure as hell wasn’t Scott. I saw her again a few weeks ago during rush hour, and Talea saw her just the other night. I don’t know if she is working, but if she is, it’s not in any kind of corporate environment.

Whatever she has tried to do, she has failed.

Me? I’m doing great. I have a great job (my clients can be difficult, but the job itself is sweet), I make decent money, I have good benefits, and I work with my best friend. My apartment is cute, cheap, and all mine. I have an amazing boyfriend who showers me with more love and affection from 800 miles away than any man has within the city limits, and yet still knows when to just let me be retarded. I love him dearly, and one day we will be together. One day we’ll even be married, with inevitable little hell-raisers nipping at my heels. But we’re not rushing into anything because frankly we are smarter than that.

We’re smarter than Ami. I’m smarter than Ami. Talea is smarter than Ami. Your left shoe is smarter than Ami.

Ami sucked.

And I won.

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!