Happy Mardi Gras indeed. The new bras have arrived!
(ignore what looks like a bad fit.. I was contorted a bit oddly for the camera angle)
And what says Mardi Gras better than beads, and boobs?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some pancakes to eat.
The other day I had a flashback to my youth. Shane pointed me toward the Rambo Town website. Oh Sly. How you’ll haunt my teenaged recollections for years and years to come.
I had nearly forgotten about that, when Maktaaq, on the Metroblogging Vancouver site, posted an exerpt from the Province regarding Hope’s status as not only Rambotown, but the Chainsaw Carving Capital.
For those not in the know, I spent my teenaged years (from one month after I turned 13, to one month after I turned 19) living in the town of Hope. It was definitely different from the shelters of Greater Vancouver Suburbia that had been my home both before, and after I lived there.
A snippet from the Rambotown website:
Besides, the town of Hope where the film takes place is a nice place too. Even if you’re not interested in the movie, it’s definitely worth a visit and you can spend a great time there. So to let you take part in my experiences and to give you a little insight in the making of “First Blood” in Hope, I did what I`ve always wanted to do: A website about “First Blood”…
Funny, a “nice place” where you can “spend a great time” isn’t exactly how I remember it.
Warning, philosophical recollecting and reminiscing ahead…
(more…)
When I started getting super busy (and lazy), I started breaking the first rule of lingerie ownership. I began putting my bras in the dryer.
Of course, as is to be expected when one does such a foolish thing, they are quite a lot worse for wear.
In fact, I am now down to two serviceable bras. One white, one black.
And even they are not fitting so well these days. The cups are lumpy and misshapen. I am riding up and spilling over and losing straps down my shoulders.
I did order some more online, but they are not here yet. I am praying they won’t be much longer in arriving.
In the meantime, if you see some poor uncomfortable girl with lumpy-looking boobs, constantly adjusting her upper-body undergarment, that would be me. I don’t mind if you stare (heck, I would), but please also send a fast-freight thought to my new bras that they get here soon!
As I was perusing the morning blogroll, I read something very disturbing on La Coquette’s latest post
Discover Miami International Airport is not equipped with wireless internet.
WHAT. THE. HELL.
Am not amused.
Any Miami-ites out there wanna direct me to some wireless internet in the damn city?
And while you’re at it, is a trip to Miami Ink of TLC fame worth the hype? And, should I be able to talk myself into some work, is travelling for 10-ish hours with a fresh tattoo actually a good idea?
I bet y’all thought I took off on that vacation already didn’tcha?
I wish.
I mean, I haven’t posted in a few days, and stopped taking pictures of my bathroom renovation (which of course must be done by now, right?) - so it stands to reason that you’d think I was gone.
Not so much.
I am still here, and haven’t taken any more pictures, since there hasn’t been any more work done. The renovations that were supposed to be done in 10-ish days are now entering day 16.
I suppose if you count days where work was actually done, it may be done in 10 days. There’s this funny thing going on where the contractors are only showing up once or twice a week now.
Today was the first time since last Thursday that anyone has been in to do any work. Allegedly I’ll be coming home to find a new toilet and maybe a countertop. For those who voted on what I did on that fateful night before the old toilet was reinstalled, I’ll admit it, I went with option E. And Travis, it’s ok. I have a dishwasher.
Still no word on the shower being finished. I don’t even know if maybe it is finished, and nobody’s told me yet? Anyone ever done ceramic tiling before? If it’s been grouted, does it need to be sealed? Or can I just go for it?
In any case, I’ll take a few pictures of any progress when I get home, and hopefully things will be many more steps closer to being finished.
If I never live through renovations again, it’ll be too soon!
VACATION, GOT TO GET AWAY!
And away I’m getting!
I’ll be catching the red-eye to Toronto on March 25th to arrive in Miami on the 26th. I’m staying in Miami 1 night, and then flying over to Grand Cayman on the 27th to stay with a friend & soak up the sun for a week.
I fly back to Miami sometime on the 31st to spend 1 more night in Miami, and leave there at 11:30am on the 1st to get back to Vancouver at about 6:00pm.
So if you have any recommendations on what to see/do on a Sunday afternoon/evening and/or Friday Night in Miami, please let me know.
Otherwise, I’ll make sure I drink a mojito on the beach for each of you while I’m gone!
You know, I’ve become familiar with some stuff not really working up to what I think its full potential should be.
My digital camera is small, sturdy, and is capable of taking some great pictures. However, it doesn’t do close-ups well at all. I forgive it for that small transgression.
My sunglasses occasionally hurt my ears or distort my vision a tiny bit. They also broke when I fell on my face rollerblading. I did expect them to be a little sturdier, but since they’re still functional, I forgive them.
My favourite underwear, even though it promises no lines and no riding, still shows lines in some pants, and gives me the occasional wedgie. But it’s so comfortable, I forgive it.
However, when I spend between 3 and 4 of my hard earned dollars on a product that does one thing, and one thing only, and it fails to do that thing? I get cranky.
Adidas for women antiperspirant does NOT keep me from perspiring!
And that is simply unforgiveable.
The bathroom renovations continue.
While I’m pretty adaptable and don’t really mind being inconvenienced with the lack of shower etc. for a couple weeks I did make one strong demand: at no time should I be left without a toilet overnight.
So much for that.
The tile floor and tub surround went in yesterday, and since the tile needed to set overnight, the toilet couldn’t be re-installed until today.
For those not in the know: I have one bathroom. That toilet is the toilet. And it spent the night hanging out in the bathtub.
So.. what did I do? Well, as I saw it, there were five options:
a) Hold it.
b) Take a page from the firefighter’s training manual and use my stash of p-mates to go off the balcony.
c) Make acquaintances with the neighbours and run to their apartment to pee before bed and in the morning.
d) Run across the street to the Gas Station bathroom.
e) Go in the kitchen sink.
Which do you think I did?, and which would you have gone for?
I’ve been completely burnt out since the conference ended on Saturday, but here are a few notes I wanted to get down before the post becomes completely irrelevanat:
- Whenever I go to a conference or event with people I know, I inevitably hang out with them, and don’t meet new people. I should work on that.
- There seemed to be a larger valley this year between the technophiles and the storytellers. That said, I think Eric Rice’s “Everything Casting” presentation managed to bring both sides of the picture together and I really enjoyed it. Check out the slides of his “Epsilon Construct” here.
-The Blogs in the Bedroom panel I sat on went pretty much as anticipated. I’ve heard mixed reviews, and have mixed feelings about the whole thing myself. I think the panel was a good idea in and of itself, but as panels sometimes do (since they’re fueled by the audience’s questions), it went in a direction that I don’t think lived up to its potential. Ah well.
- I also have the small complaint that at least two of the panelists and the moderator had no idea who I was or where my site was located. I know I’m not more than a minnow in an ever-growing pond, and that the moderator was put in as a last-minute schedule change in the busy couple days before the event, but I think doing 30 minutes of background research to acquaint one’s self on one’s fellow panelists (I know I did - isn’t that what “About Pages” are for?) is just good practice when doing these things.
-The most important lesson learned of the day: The Templeton doesn’t open until 9:00am on Saturdays. The Elbow Room doesn’t open until 8:00am on Saturdays. However, Two Parrots is open before 7:00am, and the breakfast is plentiful and very edible.
Oy. 6:25am. It’s darned early for a Saturday (or any other day in my world for that matter).
Just a quick reminder to anyone who cares, I’ll be at Northern Voice today, speaking on the “Blogs in the Bedroom” panel.
If I know you (and especially if I don’t), and you see me, say “hi” !
I’ll also be on msn: wierdchick[at]hotmail[dot]com & google talk: peechie[at]gmail[dot]com
I should’ve known. Agreeing to one more date with Rescue Dork after what happened last time, I was really just asking for disaster.
And so, a list of signs that the universe delivered to me on Wednesday evening to alert me to the fact that the date as a whole was a BAD IDEA.
1. He suggested we head up to Altitudes Bistro on Grouse Mountain for dinner and to catch the Pay Per View hockey game on TV. When we got there he realized (of course he didn’t do any research or planning before hand - and what did I say last time about planning?) that just to get up to the bistro was going to cost a little over $60 for the both of us. So, with his apology for appearing to be a “cheap bastard” that plan was nixed. Holy awkward batman.
2. We drive over to another pub. Sure, they’ve got the game on a big projection screen, but no game sound. Instead they opted for playing some ambient house music. The service was even worse than the tunes, so movin’ on, again. He’s kind enough to remind me when we’re back in the vehicle that I probably think he sucks, and this is shaping up to be a pretty terrible date as well. Thanks. I was trying to block that. But if you want me to hate you, I will.
3. Third pub’s a charm. We get in, perch ourselves on a couple stools, and settle in to watch the rest of the game (by this time we’ve missed most of the first period). Five minutes later he says “oh shit… we were here the other night… I totally forgot about that… oh man!” That’s right buddy. On top of this disastrous date, remind me of the last bad date (and further reveal how inappropriately inebriated you were).
4. He had to take a call from his sister (it happens, no biggie), and 10 minutes later, guess who shows up! Apparently she had asked on the phone where he was, and if he was with friends or on a date. I guess to avoid further grilling, he said he was with friends. The awkward look on her face when she showed up gave it all away.
I’m just glad there was hockey to distract me. And as soon as the game was over, we left the pub, and I was ready to bolt. I politely declined/made excuses to avoid spending any more time together that evening, and swiftly made my way elsewhere on a personal “anywhere but where this guy is” mission.
Lessons learned?
1. If a date is going badly, and your “plans” (and I use that term in the loosest possible sense) don’t work out, just roll with it. If you can be spontaneous and have fun despite the mishaps, things will go much better than if you fall apart and obsess over how badly you think the evening is going.
2. If you have a monumentally bad date, sometimes that is the universe’s way of saying “this one is not for you!” Do not, under any circumstance, attempt to give them a second chance. NO GOOD WILL COME OF IT! LET IT GO!
I have two sets of underwear. There are those pairs that others get to see. And those pairs that others unequivocally do NOT get to see.
I happen to put some thought into the underwear that others do get to see. Heather and Mel can attest to this: they’re darned cute! And it’s already been established that I have an enviable booty.
So nothing bugs me more than when some boy is “goin’ for the goodies” so to speak, and goes for everything on the bottom half in one fell swoop.
Please! Pause for the Panties!
I promise they are pretty, and sexy, and there really is nothing like TAKING YOUR TIME if you’re granted the honour of getting to see the lovely underthings in the first place.
And I lied, there is one thing that bugs me more than that… it’s when after the fact, the boy sees the hotness that covers the booty lying on the floor, and says “damn, those are NICE.” I promise, they are a trillion times nicer when they are STILL ON and it would’ve been even better if you could’ve controlled yourself long enough to notice.
So, girls… do you ever experience “The Wholesale Tearoff” and how do you feel about it when your pretty underthings are neglected?
Boys… do you even care? Because you should. Or at least learn to pretend…
I have a memorial service to go to next week and I’m in the process of finding a charitable organization to make a donation to, in lieu of (which will actually be in addition to, because that’s just what I do) flowers.
Thankfully, it’s been a while since I’ve had a memorial or funeral to attend, but apparently since the last time I did this, things have changed.
Do you know how impossible it is these days to find a charitable organization that advertises they have actual cards that I can pick up to pass along to the bereaved? Not bloody many, that’s for damn sure. Because I have yet to find one.
They all seem to advertise that they’ll “send a new! special! convenient! e-card!” A FUCKING E-CARD. Because nothing SCREAMS sympathy like A GODDAMN EMAIL.
I’m sorry, charitable organizations, but that is not going to cut it. I’m sure it costs you extra to print those fancy little cards you used to have, but I’d gladly pay an extra buck or two if it saves me from insulting someone with technology.
Because that’s what it is. Insulting. E-Greetings only have one role in the world of interpersonal communications. And that role is to say “I didn’t forget about you completely, but you are so low on my relationship totem pole that you are not worth the consideration of signing my name on an actual piece of paper and either delivering it to you, or wasting 50 cents on a stamp and putting it in the mailbox with enough foresight to ensure it gets to you on time.”
And that is NOT how I choose to honour someone’s life. If charities are that concerned with upfront costs, at least give me the option to print out a “donation in memorium” .pdf that I can fold up and place in a sympathy card that I’ve already got.
I just can’t believe that organizations who seem to be based so strongly in touchy-feelyness and compassion for their fellow animals, minerals and vegetables would be so shortsighted about the same qualities in their donors.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled fluff programming.
After months of waiting for the Strata Council to get their heads out of their collective arses, my landlord has finally been able to get going with a complete renovation of my bathroom.
So far it’s been kinda cool. I get up in the morning and go to work. At some point during the day, contractors show up, and do things. I get home, and stuff is different.
When I got home last night, my bathroom had gone from looking like a somewhat run-down bathroom to looking like a Gitmo prison cell. Had I known that, I’d have put up an ad with the local fetish community, and rented it out for a few hours for people to act out their torture fantasies.
I’m not sure what it’ll look like when I get home today, though I’m anticipating tile flooring and a bathtub might be in. In the meantime, I’m showering at the Spelunking club, and have made arrangements with a few friends in case that ceases to be adequate.
You can follow the progress at the flickr set I’ve created here. And if I show up at Northern Voice looking a little scruffy and worse for wear, you’ll know they didn’t finish in time.