28 January, 2007
the meaning of my existence is to complain about the meaninglessness of my existence without doing a thing about it while bitching about how spectacularly messed up the world is, without doing a thing about that.
pretty damn good meaning, i figure. keeps the conversation flowing, keeps the mind active, keeps the body full of wine and cheesy things.
see? i could be sitting in the desert, communing with the divine. i could be handling snakes in a revival tent in kentucky. i could even be washing lepers' feet in india. instead, i am filled to the brim with well written tv, homemade macaroni and cheese, a fine chilean merlot, and slight (and thus easily dismissed) feelings of guilt, listening to my favourite ckua show. if you had to choose, which would you do?
p.s. go and see it and support it and BRING IT BACK! then my life will have a wee bit more meaning. ok? ok. thanks!
22 January, 2007
so thanks for all the book titles. now give me more. more. MORE!!!!
and everyone send me 5$ (which, with the size of my fanbase, should keep me in single issue gummy worms (at 3 cents a worm) for at least a month! at least!
P.S. oh, and pitur, please use google or wikipedia to answer any pressing womb-related questions you might have. i am too genteel and lady-like to use words like "virgin" and "uterus" on my blog. these are related to s. e. x. and you know i would never write about filth like that here.
21 January, 2007
second of all, i will not rehash the "lost blog" because it is obviously lost for a reason. the reason being that god, or whatever higher power runs things these days, does not want you to know about my drinking history and my new year's sort-of-resolutions. if i've whetted your appetite and you wish to know more, too bad. lost is lost and besides, i asked for book titles and got nothing so a big fat raspberry to you.
am i mean? yeah. maybe a little bit. but not as bad as a franco nationalist. and i really mean it: go see pan's labyrinth, but i recommend only a light supper prior to watching. and bring a teddy bear. and do not go alone. human beings suck. but then, i already knew that...
other than that, mister monkey is sick. i start to feel all maternal whenever he gets sick and i make my killer tea. this is predominantly ginger based, with lots of cloves, cinnamon, honey and lemons thrown in for good measure, and it will sweat the fever right out of you. this time i also added home made raspberry preserves because apparently that's some good anti-sick shit too. if you're feeling under the weather, let me know and i'll come over and cook you some killer tea. (right after you recommend a good book.)
19 January, 2007
fucking mangy syphillitic microdick blogger!
i just opened up my heart, wrote a brilliant post and the fucker ate it.
i hate you, blogger.
i hate you and your children, and your children's children.
you are an evil entity.
you are the epitome of bad.
you are what's wrong with the world today.
you need to die slowly, your corpse gnawed on by dull-toothed sewer rats with hepatitis-c.
oh and sure, THIS post gets saved.
18 January, 2007
2. do you eat the daily recommended 5-10 servings of fruit and veggies? i do! sometimes i hit 5 by breakfast! i loves my fibre! pooping is FUN!
3. is there any reason why the entire female population of north america has suddenly sprouted chubby little love handles that flop over the sides of their too low, too tight jeans? just wondering.
4. how many times have you seen lord of the rings? i'd tell you how many times i saw it but then you'd run away screaming, stop being my friend, and whisper about me with the popular girls every time you saw me in the hallway, and i am just not quite ready to brave the lunchroom alone, so i will not tell you. but i'll give you a hint: LOTS and lots and lots.
5. why don't koalas switch it up a bit? i mean their tenacity is admirable and all, but if your food source provides you with so little energy that you spend 20 hours out of every 24 sleeping, clearly it's time to experiment with, oh, i don't know, hot dogs? marmite sandwiches? grapes? then again, they do have unusually small brains. poor hydrocephalic koalas...
6. will i ever reach a time in my life when my lassitude overcomes my anger management issues? i look forward to the day when being pissed off will be moi, delicately flipping my middle finger at the universe in general, mouthing a slurred "fuck you," all latter day marlon brando-like. hope it comes soon, that blessed day.
7. read any good books lately? i am open to suggestions. nothing about how the world is coming to an end because of our mismanagement of water/resources/environment/poverty etc. but no fluffy stuff either. give it to me now!
8. when will my toe (middle one, left foot) peel off? do you think i need plastic toe surgery? that little fucker always gets in trouble, always!
9. had enough? i sure did!
17 January, 2007
guess what. the surprise was less of the "surprise! i got you a diamond studded g-string for your collection!" kind and more of the "surprise! i accidentally parked the car at the bottom of the north saskatchewan river!" kind. the concert? evanescence. yes, gentle reader. you heard me right. do not make fun of my musical tastes because i can't stand the pompous affectation of this goth-wanna-be ensemble, make fun instead of the musical tastes of my husband.
pretty much as expected, the coliseum was filled to the brim with young pimply pseudo goths, and early middle aged administrative assistants with too much eyeliner on, safety pins gracing their lightly torn skirts from old navy. oh, and lesbo-lites, teenage girls who think that holding hands with other teenage girls makes them hard core and cutting edge, though the constantly roving eyes, seeking nearby boys' approval kinda takes the edge off, if you ask me, though nobody had.
i mostly slept through the headliners (imagine a less talented but very serious sarah mclachlan backed by heavy metal drums, throw in a torn tartan christmas tree skirt for a skirt, and you pretty much have it covered), what with the endless repetition of very serious "tragic, haunting" songs that all sounded pretty much the same. yawn.
but. BUT: the opening act made me smile. they were called stonesour and the lead singer, a short little firecracker with 80's metal hair, was awesome. they banged heads in unison (very fetching!) and screamed many many songs, most of which were incomprehensible, loud, and forgettable, but we enjoyed the energy of some numbers. we might be wrong on the titles but these are a few of our favourites: "where the fuck is grandpa?" "johnston wants a bear" and "the banana song." if these songs are not in the band's listed repertoire, my apologies. i blame my aged hearing.
the lead singer was a charming guy who kept asking the motherfucking audience to fucking help him sing a fucking song. he told the motherfucking audience that fucking edmonton fucking rocked and was the best fucking show on the whole goddamn fucking tour (i bet he says that to all the cities) and ended his show by giving us all a big motherfucking thank you. buddy, you're motherfucking goddamn welcome. you goddamn made my fucking night.
then i came home and slept.
16 January, 2007
i had my annual pelvic exam today. (would that be multiple choice, or short answer, you think?) my doctor is a decent sort, though because of a slight technicality he isn't actually my family doctor. my family doctor is a family friend and she will not look at my woohoo because it would make things odd over coffee with my parents or so i assume. ("how are things? what's new? saw your daughter's uterus the other day. it's fine, fine, a perfectly good uterus, though sadly underutilised, pass the croissants, thank you."). so i see someone else for my girlie bit check up and because i rarely go to the doctor other than for my girlie bit check up, i end up seeing this guy instead of my family doctor, all because she snubs my woohoo. in case you were wondering, and i just know that you were.
anyhow, i donned the ever attractive and oh so comfortable rustling paper skirt and slid my ass into a complete stranger's face, which i think is my all time favourite part of the procedure. the pokeage of the stick in the uterus bothers me not a bit but the psychological discomfort is very very real. this doctor is cool in that he doesn't say inane things like, "make yourself comfortable" because his nurse once told him that it is a) unrealistic, b) severely annoying. and she is right. a great big "FUCK YOU" is a typical (if unspoken) response to that particular line, and i am sure i am not alone here.
so apparently i am all healthy, shiny and good to go, and, as per my doctor, it is okay to not want children, all the entertaining mommy blogs notwithstanding. i should have asked him to give me a note to that effect that i can flash to my parents.
when i told him i am tired a lot, he asked about my age. i get a feeling that will be the popular response to more and more of my complaints over time. jeez, just hand me a coupon for depends and be done with it.
i also had my eyes checked today and apparently i am not going blind. i have 20/20 vision. or maybe i just have good memory and the third time the really tiny letters show up on the screen i have them memorised and am rattling them off despite my inability to see them at all with my left eye.
and then they took my blood.
and then i had lunch (red curry with tofu, apple and mango) .
and then other stuff happened which is not worth blogging about (unlike the detailed account of my pap smear, eh?).
12 January, 2007
we had a choice of craptastic suburban nightmare of a location with housekeeping or beaver pond and forests withOUT housekeeping. like a horny college boy, i went for beaver. will see how long before i kick my vacuum-hating ass for that particular decision. still, seeing the kind of people who work in fort mac's service industry, i hold little hope for the quality of the housekeeping. probably would have ended up with dysentery or crabs. this way i get all the beaver i want, and a great backyard.
job "interview" was a disappointment since they apparently have no room for me now and will not for 3 to 6 months, which begs the question - why the hell did they waste my time, insinuating that there was an impending position available? i spent a sad evening feeling pissed off and unwanted, and now i must start an actual job search. had i known their enthusiasm had no practical application, i would have brought some resumes and spent the day spreading around the joyful sunshine that is moi to all the offices in town. being a naive idiot, i believed what was implied and never actually spoken and spent the day reading an overwrought novel by the fire in the library while waiting for aforementioned interview. bastards.
and that is it.
bedroom quote of the week: "gee baby, i just like slapping the ass!"
08 January, 2007
so yeah, most of you active types are reading this all glazed-eyed and yawny, thinking "big fat hairy whoop," but what you don't get is that to an anti-athlete like moi, it is a big fucking deal yes indeedy-o to discover a sport or physical activity (other than walking which i love) that doesn't make me want to kick someone's teeth in or crack open a box of molten-cheese filled chocolates.
i hate sports. throw me a ball and i advise you to duck (not too quickly because i will probably fumble the ball and then throw it like a three year old back at you, but still, accidents happen). give me a stick to hit the ball with and my mood will really turn foul. or maybe i'll just look at you increduously and put the stick down before going to get a drink.
people who play soccer for fun (like my sis-in-law) or who like mountain induced pain (like my cousin) or who run several marathons a year (like my dad) are beyond my scope of understanding. i mean, why? why? when there are books to read, comfy chairs to sit in and a nice leisurely* pace to keep to? so for me to actually enjoy a sport is a big deal.
so this makes three: i now like yoga, pilates and cross country skiing. watch out! i'll be a muscle bound contortionist with abs of steel in no time! oh yeah!
*most people would beg to differ on this one: i walk fast. really really fast. for me, walking slowly takes a lot of effort and makes me cranky and tired. then again i am tired most of the time and most things make me cranky.
over and out.
04 January, 2007
last night i dreamt i helped a woman give birth to two sharks (sturgeon?). the first came out sluggish and had to be doused with hot water to wake him up while the second came out all wiggly and happy as only a baby shark (sturgeon?) can be.
both mother and baby sharks (sturgeon?) are doing fine.
i think i need to either stop drinking altogether, or start drinking a hell of a lot more. my brain is starting to really frighten me and needs to be stopped.
recent google searches that amused mister monkey:
- pale feces (really. don't ask.)
- men pluck eyebrows (didn't find anything remotely linkable, and one would have figured that one for a gold mine!)
- god hates shrimp (right up there with homosexuals. check it out.)
and that's all you're getting out of me today.
although for god's sake, somebody please tell me - is it sturgeon or sturgeons? both sound odd.
02 January, 2007
hovering over the toilet, wondering which end it will be this time: face or ass? face or ass? oh, let's alternate, shall we?
some would say it was the cosmopolitans and the vodka and sodas, i think it was the shrimp. i really didn't drink that much and the shrimp began to talk to me almost immediately post consumption. fucking crustaceans!
still, the new year's eve trip to canmore was great. cross country skiing in god's own winter wonderland, spiced wine by the fire, walks in the snow, so much laughter that my cousin's wife actually had to take a painkiller for a busted gut, and then the big night out at the banff springs hotel where the booze flowed freely (gack!) and the music was provided by a really great singer who should be told that men plucking their eyebrows is reprehensible, gross, unattractive and seriously disturbing (all you equal opportunity types can kiss my ass). i actually found the quality of his singing sinking every time i looked at him so i avoided looking at the stage studiously. because we had prebooked our cab ride home, we had some free time to explore the hotel while waiting - if you've never wandered the halls of the banff springs hotel, you seriously should if the opportunity ever presents itself. we discovered a piano in a medieval ballroom and i could not resist. i plink-plonked my way through the three pieces i still recall from my abandoned musical career and would have assaulted the ears of my friends longer still had we not been interrupted by a mysterious bald guy in a silver jacket who swooshed me away, sat down and proceeded to play strauss, elton john and some other wedding-singer classics while we waltzed around the room, wandering where the security types were and how long they were going to let us get away with this impromptu party. and i found a box of high-end tea, an abandoned gift for chelsea that i decided to keep. sorry chelsea, in case you're wondering, you left it on the piano. and thanks. then the ride to the hotel. then the toilet. and more toilet. and then some more. the ride home took forever and ended with mister monkey unloading the entire vehicle while i lied in bed shivering. i seem to feel better today although if you were a 2 year old with reduced upper body strength, you could still knock me over with one hand. easily. i am drinking ginger tea and eating white rice (which is the only white grain of any kind in my high fibre household).
so kids, happy new year, reflect, think about the past, present and future, eat well, quit smoking, lose weight, do whatever you need to do, but don't get suckered into the whole new year's resolutions thing, which is statistically bullshit anyhow. change when you need to, buy gifts whenever you feel like it, spend time with your loved ones all year long, and for god's sake, think for yourself!