I am the easiest, and the hardest person to buy gifts for.

I like receiving practical gifts. I will give those who request it a detailed list of what I want, including brand names, stores you can find them at, and approximate cost. People rarely like to buy me the practical gifts. Practical gifts are boring.

On the flip side, I don’t like it so much when they buy me the frivolous, shiny things. If someone feels obligated to get me a thing, I’d rather they get me a thing I need. (Yes, I understand some of you have eschewed the commercialism of the season - in my family we gift. That is the way it is. Rant elsewhere.)

Here’s my reasoning: I like to buy myself the expensive things. The gizmos, gadgets, designer clothes, shoes, wine… it’s a bit of retail therapy that I like to engage in. If I’ve met a personal or professional goal I set for myself, or just made it through a really shitty day/week/month, I use these as motivators and rewards. That whole system loses its charm when I start getting them for no good reason at all (other than someone felt obligated to get me a “something”).

And it really chaps my ass when I have to divert the money I’d rather be spending on shiny things, to practical stuff.

So, things I won’t be asking for this year because I’d rather spoil myself with them: an ipod nano, a digital piano, an LCD monitor, diamonds.

Things I will be asking for, that nobody (including myself) wants to get me because they’re boring: a network adaptor for the TiVo, a new hairdryer, a crock pot, a car-charger for my cell phone, socks, an emergency roadside kit.

Seriously. I’ve asked for socks every year for the past 3 years. I have yet to receive, because nobody wants to be the “sock giver.”

Sometimes it’s tough to be me.

ps. While I am stubborn with the gifting, I am a veritable Holiday Card Whore. I’ll give up the greetings to anyone and everyone. So email me if you want one already!

This is a picture of Ray’s room. Click on the photos for links to Flickr complete with notes explaining the bizarreness of it all.

Ray is obsessed with America.

If America were a woman, Ray would want her to tie him down, spank him, and call him her bitch. Or, as he likes to say it, he wants to be the next Tom Brokaw

And to Ray I say “good luck - and work on that stutter.” Then again, Ray also told me he voted Conservative in the last election, because the Liberals needed to be “punished” for the sponsorship scandal. I asked him why not vote NDP, and he looked like he might throw up at the mere mention of the word. So I’m sure American media will welcome him with open arms.

Ray’s manifesto is Brokaw’s autobiography. Since Brokaw claims boned up on politics by reading the biographies of every president, that’s what Ray’s doing. The pages you see lining the upper walls are tear-sheets of every American President in history. He’s also got multiple maps (all of the same country of course - because the rest of the world doesn’t actully matter) around his room with post-it flags on them denoting the locations of things he thinks are important, or newsworthy or whatever.

Of course, I’m not sure what newsworthy means in his world - because while he may know presidents, he’s not exactly up on politics. I uttered the phrase “fiscally conservative” and he asked me to explain it. fiscal = financial, conservative = conservative. His follow-up to that? But don’t the Conservatives want to cut taxes? Oy. conservative != Conservative there champ. Then again, it’s that kind of ignorance that keeps Fox News running, so again - bully for him!

So Ray spends his days sitting at his “Command Centre” (that’s what his calls his desk setup), reading his homework scripts, and flipping between Fox News, Bloomberg, MSNBC, BBC, and back to Fox News.

I thought his whole obsession was just odd, and didn’t really think much about it. But now that he’s leaving, it’s going to be a fiscal issue for him. Each piece of paper on his walls (go ahead, scroll up and take a look at it again… I’ll wait… finished? moving on…) is held there with four pushpins. You can see them pretty clearly in the full-size of the closet picture - he’s used black ones on the Clinton/Bush wall.

Now imagine, his 9×11 foot room is COVERED in these push-pin holes. One or two isn’t a big deal, but a whole room-worth? That’ll need to be filled and sanded before it can be painted over. And I’m sure as hell not doing it, or paying for it when it’s time for me to move out and reclaim my deposit. I’m guessing Ray might ask if he could do it himself, but he can’t operate dishwasher detergent, so I don’t think home renovation is a good step for him.

He already asked me how much he paid as a damage deposit, so I doubt he’ll be pleased to know he’s not getting all of it back. I wonder how much of a freakout I’ll have to endure over this one, or if my “unreasonable” status will be upgraded…

I present to you, yet another thing that drives me INSANE about Ray, which also proves that my intolerance is so inflated that I’m just not fit to live with other people in general.

Ray eats stinky food.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned (because it doesn’t really matter) but Ray’s Korean. When he first moved in, he asked if I cooked much, and what I ate. He then said that he’s not a very good cook (duh) and eats mostly western food.

And indeed he did. He subsisted through most of June, July and August on Pizza Pops, Mini Pizzas, Mr. Noodles, KD and Sandwiches. And the occasional container of takeout. There was even a point in time where Ray spent a few days at his parents house, and when he came back, he apologised for smelling like Korean Food, and promptly laundered and febreezed everything he had with him.

But now that Ray has been consumed with schoolwork since the beginning of September, his all-chemical diet has ceased to suffice. And since he still can’t cook for himself, this means his mom has started supplying him with her cooking, 3 days at a time.

And it’s all Korean Food.

Which means it smells like Garlic and Cabbage. That has been refrigerated for 3 days. Then microwaved.

Not that I’m opposed to Korean food in general (I love me a good bi bim bap) - however if I wanted to live in a Korean restaurant, I would. I don’t.

But what am I going to do? Say “dude, your food stinks - stop eating!” ? The fridge has pounds baking soda in it - still smells. The dishes are rinsed out and go in the dishwasher pretty much right away - still smells. I’m boiling lemon water in the microwave weekly - still smells.

Seriously, what would you do? I’ve waited this long - I’m tempted to just wait it out till he’s gone, and invest in a heavy steam cleaning and lots of febreeze. But if you’ve got any other suggestions, bring em on!

This one’s for me. A reminder not to break my own rules - they’re there for a reason!

So my minor meltdown the other week was a direct result of breaking my own rule.

I had been dating someone a while back, and while things didn’t work out, we agreed to be friends. We did have a few things in common, so it wasn’t totally far fetched for us to communicate or even hang out every now and again.

I should’ve known it was coming, when I decided at the last minute to skip out of an event I’d normally be found at. He was there, and said he was “disappointed I wasn’t there - would’ve been good to see me.” But I ignored the warning bells.

And then one day, he dropped the bomb that should’ve sent me running for the hills: “You know, I’ve been thinking about you, about us, a lot lately…” But instead of running away, I ran right back, with “I’ve been thinking about you too…”

Which turned into a late-night meeting, “just to talk,” which turned into a “strictly platonic sleepover,” which stayed platonic for about 8 seconds.

Which was followed by a few more of these mutually beneficial “sleepovers.” Preceeded and followed by hours of cuddling & chatting. Full of such gems as “I care about you” and “I miss hanging out with you” and “I wish things weren’t so messed up” and “I wish things could be different…”

So me, being the naieve sap I am, replied to all that with my “this is now more than friendship for me” message. Which led to a hearty “thanks but no thanks” from him.

Had I stuck with my rule of Never Going Back I would’ve saved myself a world of hurt.

If a relationship doesn’t work out, there is usually a DAMN GOOD reason for it. You tried, it flopped. Move on. And DO NOT fall into the “let’s try to be friends” trap.

To avoid the trap, I’ve come up with a handy filing system. A little mental tool for you, when you think you’ve been sucked in by someone who tries to charm you out of your pants.

While we are all unique like snowflakes and defy labels etc., but filing your acquaintances of whichever sex you’re likely to end up in bed with into the following categories can help keep things clear and keep you from letting a momentary lapse in judgement lead to unnecessary heartache:

-> Someone you have a few things in common with, who genuinely cares about your well-being = A Friend
-> Someone you have sex with, and do not engage in more stimulating conversation with than “I like it when you do that thing” or “Hey, did you catch the game last night?” = A Friend With Benefits
-> Someone you have sex with who also genuinely cares about your well-being = A Boyfriend
-> Someone you have sex with who pretends to care about your well-being but who’s actively avoiding Boyfriend status = An Asshole who is asking to have my brothers pay him a visit with a tire-iron and a crowbar, and no tendancies toward negotiation.

Or, just remember these words of wisdom from one of my bestest guy friends: “Have I taught you NOTHING? You are a cute girl. Therefore, a guy will say ANYTHING if he thinks it will get him laid.”

I may need to needlepoint that onto a throw cushion or something…

I think I’ve figured out how to put up with the next 6 weeks of Surly Ray.

Stay Drunk.

For his surliness is only going to increase over the next few weeks, as he tries to study for term exams & find a new home. And especially when I tell him that he’s going to lose part of his damage deposit due to the thousands of push-pin holes in his walls as a side-effect of “the obsession.”

I’m going to leave it at that for now - but expect “the obsession” as an upcoming Ray-ism! I just need to be home alone long enough to execute some stealth photography…

Time for another Ray-ism. Do we remember Ray’s reluctance to downsize to one garbage can in the bathroom? Well his bizarre inability to deal with such things has now transferred to the Brita.

I’ve had a 1.5L Brita pitcher for a long time - I purchased it when I first moved out on my own, and it’s been adequate for my H₂O needs thus far. Once Ray moved in, the fridge started to contain both the small Brita, and usually 10-12 500ml bottles of whatever bottled water Ray was drinking that week. (You know, cycling through his earthquake supply, so the water doesn’t get stale…)

About a month ago, the small army of water bottles faded away, and Ray came home with the 5L Brita Behemoth, because we’re “going through a lot of water.” Fair enough. I can understand that. I take my wee Brita, clean it out, and put it away.

Well when I came home yesterday, my wee Brita was sitting on the counter with a note and a piece of cut-out newspaper attached to it. Ray was home, so before I got to read much, he leapt right in with it:

Ray: H-h-h-he-hey Jen
Self: Hi Ray. What’s up?
Ray: Hey, would you mind using your own water jug from now on?
Self: Uhm, ooooo-kaaaaaaaaaay?
Ray: It’s just that, well, I go through a LOT of water. I mean, I fill a bottle I take to school, and I make coffee, and then I drink a lot when I get home… I just need the whole thing to myself.
Self: Uh huh.
Ray: I’m not trying to be difficult or anything - it’s just the realities of my water consumption. And hey, I taped a bunny on your jug with my note! You know, to be friendly!
Self: (Looks closer, and sees that he indeed cut out a bunny from a telus ad and taped it to the front of the pitcher with his note.) Sure Ray. I’ll pick up another filter when I go grocery shopping this week, and get my pitcher going. In the meantime, how about I just use yours, and refill it after I take water out of it. You know, the way the thing was intended to work?
Ray: Ok, sure, that’s fine, thanks for understanding! (totally impervious to the sarcasm that just ricocheted off his thick skull)

I should note here that having lived with wee Brita for so many years, I’m in the habit of filling it every time I pour a glass of water, and that behaviour transferred to Brita Behemoth. Ray’s lack of water is solely due to his own inability to manage the Brita refilling requirements.

It’s a damn good thing he’s outta here soon.

Update: (5:48pm) So he was looking at options for the end of December, and I was informed yesterday that the end of December thing wasn’t working out. I told him in no uncertain terms that was too damn bad, and he is definitely out as of Dec. 31. I was just called “unreasonable.” HAH.

This one’s for the boys. Hear that boys? I have a problem! This is where you solve it in the comments! Isn’t that what your species does when us wimmens complain? Ok, hop to it…

In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a girl. The other thing you may not have noticed is that I like nice things.

I like nice things that girls like, like fancy flatware and china and diamonds and exotic flowers and designer shoes.

I also like nice things that boys like, like aston martins and surround sound audio systems and kajillion inch LCD Displays and cool gadgets.

And I like nice things that nearly everyone likes, like great food and good wine and live music.

The problem seems to arise when I talk about nice things with boys. They seem to assume that my appreciation for nice things means I want them to buy me nice things. This is absolutely not true. While I like nice things, and I sometimes acquire nice things for myself, I don’t expect anyone else to supply me with nice things.

At most, it’d be nice to find someone who shares my appreciation of nice things, so I don’t get slack for acquiring them from whoever becomes my significant other (as has happened in the past).

I usually avoid bringing the nice things into conversation, but if someone shows up with a nice car, I’d like to be able to say “hey, nice car!” without them thinking it’s anything but appreciation for a nice car, or that it actually matters in terms of what I think of them as a person.

So, what do I do?

I took J’Lo out to the parentals today to change the oil (yes, I do it myself) and give her a good scrubdown.

The Mr.Clean Auto-whatchamacallit car washing system can KISS MY WHITE ASS. It sucks. It would suck a lot less if the 18-frillion connections between it and the hose didn’t leak and spray water all over the place, but it does and they do. Hate it.

Because park under trees every day, my car is covered in sap and needs another wash (because I gave up halfway through the Mr. Clean bullshit) and a good waxing. Note to self, schedule an hour or two to get that done soon, before it eats through the clearcoat.

I also took the time to look underneath, and my muffler is full of holes. I’m torn between replacing it myself (it’s in a really easy location and I think it’d be fun to do) or just taking it somewhere. Doing it myself means taking another weekend off to go to the land of jacks and tools (otherwise known as my parents’ garage).

After the oil change and peek underneath was done, I backed out of the garage, and promptly scraped my car along the side of my mom’s. Oops. After washing, cut polishing and waxing the sides of our cars, hers is (thankfully) good as new, and mine has a slight crease in the rear quarter panel where her side mirror dug in, and is missing some paint off the bumper. Another task: purchase touch up paint and set aside time to paint-in the missing bits on my car.

And then? My brother lent me this, this, this and this. So obviously my progress and productivity on any of the above has instantly regressed to zero.

Oh my lovelies! I can not refrain any longer!

IT’S CHRISTMAS SEASON!

I do my best to make it past Rememberance Day, so that I can honour our Veterans without shadows of Silver and Gold creeping in to the day.

Sometimes I even make it past my Mom’s birthday on November 28th, so she doesn’t feel ripped off playing 2nd fiddle to Christmas.

BUT I CAN NOT WAIT ANY LONGER! I MUST BE FESTIVE!

The holiday drinks are back at Starbucks. I’ve picked up Gingerbread-flavoured everything, cider, and mulling spices. I’ve set aside time to decorate next weekend. I’ve started putting together my shopping and baking lists. There is only one thing left! Christmas Cards!

That’s right, if you’d like your dose of holiday cheer, straight from the Water Cooler, email me a mailing address for yourself and I’ll whisk off my favourite cardboard sentiment in your general direction! You’ve got just shy of a month from today to get your submissions in. The last batch will go in the mail December 15th.

Ho Ho Ho!

Vacation, Got to Get Away!

Yah, it’s about that time where I’m ready to singe off my eyelashes one by one, so before that happens, I’d like to take some time off to rejuvenate.

But, I have NO IDEA where to go or what to do.

So, dear readers, it’s now your turn to recommend something.

I am thinking that I’d like to get away for about a week, and my absolute upper limit total budget is $2000 Canadian Dollars including flight, hotel, food, drink, more drinking, shopping, and another drink (or two).

Sun and sand would be nice, but are not necessary. To give you some idea, some places I’ve been looking at include Bali, Greece, NYC, Cuba & Montreal. I like the opportunity to be active, but I’m ruling out Ski and/or Golf vacations. Just not what I want right now.

Since I don’t a) know anyone who can afford the time and/or money to go with me that I’d want to travel with, or b) play well with others I’m planning on travelling alone. I do like the idea of a Contiki vacation, because they won’t hose me with the single room-supplement (running on the assumption that I can hate my designated roommate and forget they exist after a week). So unless you’re volunteering to be my travel companion, please try to keep the single traveler in mind when suggesting plans.

Ok, go to it! Where should I run off to?

Thank you my babies! You’re all lovely and wonderful and I know you’re all with me when it counts!

Between a good cry, a good sleep, and all of your supportive comments and emails, I feel a frillion times better.

I would like to give each of you kisses and diamonds and hundreds of hundred dollar bills.

Instead, I will give you BEEDOGS.

Feel the love!

I just did something monumentally stupid.

I told a friend that I love him. That Way

Goodbye Friendship, Hello Rejection!

I really don’t make a habit of doing this. While I’ll sometimes have revolving crushes on friends and acquaintances, they usually fade pretty quickly. I’ve never felt strongly enough about anyone to put a friendship in jeopardy. In fact, I don’t think that even in a relationshp I’ve ever said those “three little words” first.

And I just said it to a person who I know doesn’t feel the same way.

What is wrong with me?

Actually, I’m hoping that that the being wrong will eventually make things right. I can’t actually be friends with this man. It was destroying me. Everyone I dated was compared to him. Every person I was with never quite stacked up. Every time I think about growing old with someone, he’s the someone. Except he’s not. He can’t be. I know this. And it kills me.

So I told him. I laid it on the line, and tried to make it clear that I don’t expect him to reciprocate, but I can’t help the way I feel right now. And I can’t be his friend with that particular elephant in the room with us.

And being the 21st Century Digital Girl I am, I put it in an email. Of course he hasn’t replied yet. In my dreams he’ll simply show up on my doorstep and sweep me off my feet.

In my dreams, that moment I looked into his eyes and realized something was different, he realized it too.

In my dreams, I’ll wake up tomorrow and realize that this was just a dream and I didn’t actually just push him from my life with the click of that “send” button.

But I did.

And it hurts.

At least after more than a year of being jaded, guarded & alone, it’s good to know I can still feel something.

Update: He did reply. He does not feel the same (duh). He’d still like to be friends if at all possible. And the ball’s in my court. I’m honestly not sure if friendship is possible or not right now, but I’m sure in time we can reconnect on a purely platonic level. At this very moment though I’m not really sure, despite getting the answer I knew was coming, if I feel better or worse.

Here’s a hint for all y’all, cuz I’m nice like that.

When you’re thinking that before bed you need to a) suffer through the dental death that is Crest Whitestrips for 30 minutes and b) take some ibuprofin for this wicked, killer, mean and nasty headache you’ve got going on…

Well maybe you wanna do “b” first.

I’m just sayin…

I’m getting a little nervous about the State of the Union in my home.

I’m losing faith that Ray will actually be making his exodus at the end of 2005 instead of mid-2006.

He was planning on moving in with a friend of his, but that fell through. Apparently the friend was “asking too much in rent.” Despite the setback, it seems like Ray is really trying to find a place ASAP. He made another “respectful request” the other day, and asked if I would mind passing on any listings I found for places to live, since he’s only got so many hours in a day.

I was happy to oblige, until I heard his criteria, which demonstrate just how out of touch with reality he actually is.

Ray wants:
- 1 bedroom
- laundry included
- preferably utilities included
- in the North/Central Burnaby (BCIT) area
- FOR FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH! He’ll “consider” paying up to $600 if it’s a “kickass” place.

For those not familiar with the area, a $600/mo place will be bottom of the barrel. One bedroom basement suites typically start around $675, apartments around $750 and two bedroom places are usually upwards of $900 before utilities. With SFU and BCIT so near by, and with such great proximity to Vancouver, rental vacancies are hot commodities and aren’t going to be going down in price any time soon.

I think I may need to take the hard line, and make it official that Ray goes at the end of the year, and wish him and his crazy expectations lots of luck.

This is a quickie, but I have a huge pet-peeve with people who misuse words and language.

I physically want to claw my eardrums out whenever I hear people use the words irregardless or orientate - yes, they’re recognized on dictionary.com as “slang versions” of regardless or orient, but it doesn’t mean it’s correct or grammatically sound to use them. (Yes, there are probably spelling mistakes galore on these pages… that’s not the issue here.)

Or people who fuck up on cliches. I know someone who consistently said “You can’t know the good with the bad” (instead of without the bad) - the way she said it doesn’t even make sense! Do people even consider the words coming out of their mouths? Sometimes I wonder.

Anyway, it should come as no surprise then, that when I was talking to a potential date on the phone, and he used the word “symbiotic” thinking it was a synonym for “symbolic,” well I just wrote him off entirely then and there.

I suppose I could’ve corrected him, but I think he understood that my sudden remark of “well, I’m really busy now until after the holidays” is a synonym for “while you probably have no idea what you said wrong, I’m no longer interested.”