As usually happens when you are seeing someone on a level that your schedule dictates whose house you’ll be sleeping at that night, the boy had a pile of dirty clothes at my place.

And since I was doing laundry anyway, I figured I’d toss his dirty clothes in with mine (cuz I’m just sweet like that - all those losers from before really are missing out!).

That’s when it happened.

I discovered his man-funk is actually strong enough to nullify the effects of laundry detergent!

See, he has this shirt that he runs in. It’s allegedly a technical fabric, and as those fabrics do, it dissipates the sweat and nastiness throughout the whole garment to keep you dry. Dry, and very very smelly. He’d gone running in the shirt 3 or 4 times before it made it into the laundry. You do the math.

Into the washing machine it went, then into the dryer.

As I was emptying the dryer, I pulled the shirt out, and with it wafted that familiar foul aura. I didn’t believe it at first, but a few cautious whifs (remember, his armpits can smell like feet people) later, it was confirmed.

The shirt STILL stank!

After a wash cycle with Tide with Febreeze, Lavendar Vanilla Fabric Softener, and two Outdoor Fresh dryer sheets, it still smelled exactly like man-funk.

After a 10 hour soaking with more detergent and some time to line dry, the funkiness has somewhat dissipated. Now it smells like detergent and chemicals. Not pleasant, just different.

If the man can do that to a simple shirt, if his odiferoius self is strong enough that laundry detergent is no match for his essence, I shudder to think of what I may have gotten myself into.

In honour of BC Book and Magazine Week (you’re going to one of the events, right?) I thought it would be a good time to review a great BC Book I recently had the pleasure of enjoying.

Well, technically it might not be a BC Book, since it is set in Ontario, and the author is from and wrote the book in Manitoba…

But he lives here now, so I’m claiming him, and his book, as our own!

Up in Ontario by James Sherrett was a highly enjoyable debut novel, and kept me in great company while lounging on Seven Mile Beach.

Like the bedrock that lines the highways between Winnipeg and Lake of the Woods, Gilbert Dubois is unmoveable. He can’t give up life as a trapper and fisher on the lake; nor his cabin on its shore. Not for Christine, the beautiful young law student from Winnipeg he marries, and not for their son Wade.

As Wade grows, the Lake of the Woods becomes to him a paradise where he summers with his dad. It’s a yearly escape from the upscale existence he shares with his mother in Winnipeg.

Wade has come to terms with his parents, who are now friends-but-nothing-more; he has accepted his father’s need to live off the land and his mother’s remarriage.

Now, as Wade graduates from university with a love of his own, he must reconcile himself with the Lake of the Woods. Is this the place that has kept Wade and his father close all these years, event as it pulled his parents apart? Is it the place where Wade will forge a life for himself alongside his dad? Or is this place, this lake up in Ontario, caught between history and progress, the chasm that will separate the Dubois family forever?

I’ll confess that when it comes to works of fiction, coming-of-age and personal growth stories are generally my favourites (on the more serious side I enjoy books by Wally Lamb, on the less serious side it’s Sophie Kinsella), and if you enjoy them as well then you should definitely pick up this book.

Sherrett’s language is so descriptive I can really see and feel life around the Lake, though he doesn’t mire the reader in pointless details that detract from the story. I find myself really caring about the characters: who they are, what shaped them, which choices they’re going to make. This is a classic tale of city mouse vs. country mouse, though the story never seems tired and played out.

The book demands attention from the reader to the progression of the story, but is still light and short enough to bring to the beach.

All in all a great read, and I’m looking forward to a follow-up publication.

She: Want a Frosty with that?

He: Hmm…

She: You know you do…

He: Sure, a small one I guess.

She: (into the talking box) Ok, and… two small Frosties.

He: …

She: I was totally gonna get the medium, but you had to go and make the reasonable choice…

He: I wonder if they can make ‘em with skim milk?

She: **sigh**

See, silly thing that I am, I go crying “no content” when it’s really right there in my inbox!

I’d hardly be living up to my Word Nerd status by abstaining from sharing the goodness that is BC Book & Magazine Week with you all!

Of course, since I’m a disorganized git lately it’s half over before I told y’all about it, but if you - like me - are jumping on the bandwagon a little late, there are still plenty of things to check out!

Thursday’s Literary Tour sounds especially exciting, and any excuse to wander around one of my favourite funky areas of town is usually worthwhile:

For one night only, book and magazine publishers will host a series of launches and readings (with staggered starting times) at venues on and around Main Street, an area of Vancouver renowned for its support of the local arts scene. Participants are led from one event to another by local authors Michael V. Smith and Billeh Nickerson on two separate tours

There’s also the swanky BC Book Prizes Gala at the Hilton on Saturday night if you wanna get fancied up and mingle with the who’s who of publishing in the province.

There’s also a blog for the week, and all events are on upcoming.org.

However, I haven’t been taking any of those, and was told by a few people who know me that I “have more to say than that, so I shouldn’t cheapen myself” - hah, serves them right now that there’s no content!

In case you think you care what I’ve been up to, here’s a list to prove you don’t:

-Went up to the boy’s parents’ place for Easter Weekend with about a dozen friends. Pictures of nature and half-a-dozen couples being all schmoopy can be found here, here, and here - none of which are mine, because I haven’t had time to sit down and upload them yet.

-Dealt with some supreme asshattery at work (to do with troublesome spelunking students, not co-workers for those that read) that I’m not about to share with the internets.

-Was involved in a fender bender that resulted in a total lack of car for a few days, which didn’t affect me at all since we were on the Island and leaving my car behind anyway. ICBC hasn’t settled the claim yet, but I likely won’t be assessed any fault.

-Work is picking up now, resulting in some crazy long days.

-Jetted across the line for a night at the Semiahmoo Resort and a BBQ with some of the boy’s co-workers. Again, nothing exciting transpired, unless you consider the sad tragedy that the spa was already fully booked by the time I decided I wanted a massage.

And that brings us to today, Monday. I’m at work and still have nothing terribly exciting planned for the coming week.

Have I left any loose ends untied around here that anyone wants to know about? If not, I don’t see the content improving greatly in the near future, so just let me know which body part you’d like to see photographed next.

Random Quote:

“boobs is not cheap, regardless of how you acquire them.”

Well said my friend.

I received a wee lambasting from the boy yesterday after I confessed to the internets he has really smelly armpits.

Actually, he wasn’t upset about that at all (he didn’t even mention it). But what he would like you all to know is that technically his last name is a little further up in the alphabet than mine (Wa- instead of Wi-), and he also really didn’t mean it and felt really, REALLY bad about the whole piercing thing, and it was totally unintentional and more of a “tug” than a “rip.”

I suppose my blogging hyperbole is something that could be on his list of “things I’m sticking around through, despite their complete, total and utter awfulness.”

And because I’m still feeling listy, here are a few other things I think would be on his list:

-Girl can not stay awake through a movie started any time past 8:00pm
-Is reluctant to operate a standard transmission without supervision
-Is unbearably cranky in the mornings
-Does not enjoy the Simpsons
-Has only seen 3% of movies worth watching, released since 1994, and doesn’t care
-Falls asleep with the TV on
-Is far, far cuter than him, and knows it
-Will defend the goodness of KD to the death!

Of course, if he would get his darn blog up and running again (at the behest of so many readers besides myself), perhaps he could make his own freakin’ list!

I guess that means there’s one more item:

-Will use blog post instead of actual conversation to nag s.o. into getting things done.

So we have all agreed. Blogger + Significant Other = Dearth of Content. Oops. I’ll try to break through the status quo on that one.

Gill and Nelson were sappy enough to post lists of traits and characteristics about their lov-ahs that made them want to stick around.

But while some people can make sappy amusing, I am not one of them.

So I present to you a list of things that, despite their extreme level of horribleness, I have thus far stuck around through:

-Possesses armpits that, occasionally, smell like tennis shoes that John McEnroe didn’t remove for an entire week-long bender.
-Owns a car with a standard transmission, which I am no good at driving.
-Is chipper in the morning (has since learned that all I want in the AM is coffee and silence)
-Lives in a house with a four and seven year old. Not his, but…. children. **shudder**
-His last name starts with the same letter as mine, W. This totally breaks one of my “perfect man wish list” criteria, as I was hoping to move further up on the alphabet ladder, by simply changing my last name to that of my future husband - preferably a Mr. Adams or Mr. Brown.
-He very nearly ripped one of my piercings straight out of my body, thus killing any mood that had been established and causing me a great amount of pain.
-Refuses to acknowledge the goodness that is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Considering I have not run screaming far, far away by now despite the above, I’m thinking it’s a sign from the universe at large that this one’s a keeper.

Are you all gossipping about me yet? Are you whispering amongst yourselves, wondering where the dating stories have gone, and who this mysterious “boy” is whose presence I’ve mentioned a few times?

Or do you just not give a damn?

Because the comments have been veeeeeery quiet of late.

I will tell you this much: I have found myself with my very own boyfriend. Yikes. This means I’ve completely lost (or more like run out of) stories of terrible dates. I mean, if our dates were terrible he wouldn’t have made it to boyfriend, would he?

The problem is, now I have no crazy roommate to complain about, no bad date stories to regale you with, and never have had a cat to take photos of.

Content, oh Content, why hast thou forsaken me?

Some of you may remember I was contemplating getting a tattoo while on vacation. It didn’t actually happen, but it came damned close!

I was perusing the Miami Ink website, and lo and behold, they had an open call for applications to be tattooed on the show! So, with the help of Mel and Jen, we toodled off one day to shoot some film (an application requirement for all out-of-area submissions) to sell me to the show’s crew.

They did get my video, and did call and invite me down to their casting offices. Unfortunately, the timeline didn’t work out. I was in Cayman (because of the trip extension) when they wanted to have me in, and was arriving home when shooting was about to start.

But never fear! While you won’t see me on TLC any time soon, I’ve posted my audition tape here for you. Enjoy!

It’s true, I’m so good at making people comfortable that they’ll say nearly anything - completely forgetting where they are, what they’re doing and who they’re talking to.

Advice: for the first date or two at least, keep on your toes. Try to focus on the date at hand, otherwise you may inadvertently treat your date to some awfully amusing “foot-in-mouth” moments.

And not all dates will take this kind of remark as well as I will:

Slipups such as “Wow, you’ve had quite the adventure dating.” After regaling my dinner companion with tales of my mating misfortune. “I haven’t had any bad dates yet, though I’m sure I’ve definitely got some coming to me.”

Which inevitably leads to the f ollow up “Er.. not that you’re a bad date, I just mean the next person I date… er… unless we have a really good time tonight… uh… I don’t mean *that* kind of good time… um… unless you want to - which is cool too, but totally not expected… I mean… uhm… uh….. “

And to that I say Stop. Put down the Shovel. Stop digging yourself further into that hole, and just walk away.

The rest of the photos are up on flickr.

Time Zones man. Total Buzzkill.

So I made it home, safe and sound, though I have decided that I LOATHE both Miami International and Pearson International airports.

And the free Rum Punch on Cayman Airways is something all airlines should aspire to offer.

So I arrived in Vancouver at about 10pm last night (which is 2am Cayman time) and by the time I got home, unwound and got into bed it was about midnight. I asked the boy what time he had to get up (7:30) and set the alarm accordingly.

Fast forward to this morning. The alarm goes off and we wake up, though don’t actually get up right away. I turned on to the news to hear the weather/traffic etc. and work on getting coherent. As the clock rolls its way to 8:00am we concur that it’s probably time to get going.

Then, suddenly I notice the news is over. Why is the news over an hour early? Why is the news over at 8:00am? What the… HOLY SHIT THE TIME CHANGE!

That’s right, I completely forgot to turn my clocks forward when I got home. Understandable since I didn’t even wear a watch for most of the past week, and when I did, it sailed from EST to EDT to PDT.

Enter a mad scramble to get up, showered, dressed and out of the house as fast as humanly possible. Oops.

The chaos was compounded by the fact that, for the first time in a week, my morning routine involved a lot more than the choice between SPF 15 or 30.

Can I please go back to the beach?