I had a strange fixation when I was a teenager about turning twenty-six. For some reason I always thought that was when life would really start for me. I imagined myself living in a great little apartment either downtown or near the beach, being successful in a career I loved and in a relationship with a man I was crazy about (and who was just as crazy about me). I longed to be old enough to be taken seriously, but still young enough to not take myself seriously.

Apparently I’m either clairvoyant, or that’s the power of visioning and positive thinking for you. Though truth be told I never actually believed my fantasy world could be a reality.

In any case, the first few days of 26-ness have been great.

I had a few dinners with various friends and family, was spoiled just the right amount with cash & gifts, including the Chicago Manual of Style from the parentals and some sparkly trinkets from the boy. Good to see people are starting to take me seriously when I claim that my favourite colour is Diamonds and my birthstone is Money.

One of the aforementioned dinners was at Cassis Bistro - you can read my foodie review at Metroblogging Vancouver.

And one of the best presents of all - today is day 1 of the mere 10 left I’ll be working at the Spelunking Club. It was time for a change, and it appears that this’ll be a good one, allowing me to do a lot more writing and productive problem-solving and a lot less putting out fires and pandering to people’s personal agendas.

Of course the next birthday is a big one - I’ll turn 27 on 27-07-2007. If any numerologists out there want to give me any predictions for what that year will hold, bring ‘em on.

In the meantime, I’ll try to enjoy 26 as much as my 16-year-old self hoped I would.

to me

I have a fashion dilemma at the moment, and am turning to the internets for advice.

This is probably a mistake, since (from what I can figure) most people who comment here are guys. And I would feel confident putting money down on the fact that if the guys haven’t already tuned out after reading the words “fashion dilemma” they will as soon as they realize I’m not about to divulge any sort of wardrobe malfunction.

However, the situation is dire, so I am soldiering on with the faith that someone out there will offer up a solution.

Like most people in the world, I have a finite amount of disposable income. When I am not busy spending it on hookers and blow, I occasionally buy new clothes. In the coming month, I feel I must purchase two distinct kinds of clothing, and can only afford one. Which to choose?

Situation A: I’m attending the wedding of an acquaintance of my boyfriend. This is a fancy schmancy wedding requiring cocktail attire. I, being the princess I am, feel I need a new cocktail dress to wow the pants off of the acquaintance and other friends, showing off the hotness that my boyfriend has snagged all for his very own.

Case For Situation A: I will be stunning and hot and fancy schmancy, just as I feel the need to be.

Case Against Situation A: I already own a little black dress, and will shortly own another semi-formal dress that’s been ordered for another wedding (arriving too late to wear to this one) which would bring the items I have in my closet that I don’t have nearly enough occasion to wear to a somewhat critical mass.

Situation B: I’m going to be moving into a more professional job than the one I’m currently in. The last time I had to wear business casual clothing on a regular basis, I was 35lbs heavier. Of course as soon as I lost the weight I also lost the clothes, so I’m now in a position where I need to acquire more.

Case For Situation B: I actually need these clothes, bottom line, and will have to buy them sooner or later. I’m really just wondering how far I can push the “later” before a client clues in that I’ve worn the same tired black pants the last three times we’ve seen eachother.

Case Against Situation B: I do have some business casual clothing that will be perfectly appropriate for my new job. More than a week’s worth of outfits even. And shopping for cocktail dresses is just plain more fun than shopping for suits.

So, gentle readers, what would you do? Or should I just give up entirely and ask Amalah?

Today is finally (FINALLY!) the last day I’m going to move my things out of my Burnaby apartment and into the new place. The gorgeous new place in Kitsilano, mere blocks from the beach, with the gigantic deck and the friendly neighbours and the fact that nearly everyone in the building owns a dog, including us. Oh, and the fact that I get to share it all with that boy I love (/end schmoop).

However, if there is one truth that anyone ever needed to know about me, it is this: I. HATE. MOVING.

I do somewhat enjoy unpacking, as well as the fun of setting up a new place exactly how I like it, and how shiny everything is when the new abode is freshly painted and scrubbed, and my stuff gets cleaned and rediscovered as it’s unpacked and put in its official place.

Everything else though, is torture. Finding a place is hellish. Dragging my possessions across town (including renting a truck and bribing friends) is a nightmare. Cleaning the old place for the new tenants is a completely unfulfilling chore - I hate cleaning for myself, why would I want to do it for anyone else? The time it all takes is just time I’ll never get back.

But the worst part, by far, is the packing. There is a special hell reserved for the rapists and child murderers in this world - and that hell is packing up my belongings. Comedian Dane Cook has a bit about how everyone has a sound (nails on a chalkboard, car alarms, etc.) that affects them so much, it makes them feel violent enough to want to punch a baby. That is how I feel about packing.

I’m not really a packrat in that I hang on to things because I’m afraid I will need them again someday, or think they may be useful at some point. It’s just that it’s so much easier to toss them into a cupboard or closet than actually get rid of them. I’ve been doing that for four years in the apartment I’m leaving, and I’m guessing that in the process of this latest move I’ve thrown out or given away nearly 40% of my possessions - some of which I never actually even unpacked after I moved in back in 2002.

I also foolishly thought that with the trip to Korea, and the crazy work schedule I was under, packing in time to move everything all in one day would be too much, so I’ve been doing it slowly over the past month.

Of course, doing it slowly in my world amounts to doing absolutely nothing for 3 weeks, then panicking for a week, and dragging boxes over carload by tiny carload.

But today the very last of the belongings that I’m moving with me are being put in the back of the J’Lo and toodling their way into Kits.

I’ve hired a cleaner to deal with the rest of the cruft, and I hand over the keys sometime in early August (my landlord lives out of town). Then begins the (only slightly) less torturous task of finding spaces and places for it all. Fitting over 2500 square feet of two people’s belongings into 2/5 of that space is not an easy undertaking.

At least it’s all over soon you say? At least I’ll be settled and can get on with another long stint in the place that I call home? I wish. We get to do it all over again in a year when this is finished.

I’m already saving for professional movers AND PACKERS to deal with it the next time around. That is, if in the meantime, the thought of it all doesn’t drive me screaming into the ocean that I moved to be closer to, never to be seen again.

This entry would be far better if I scanned some high school photos to accompany it. Instead you’ll have to just imagine, and hope I dig some out later.

In my 1997/98 yearbook from Hope Secondary School, that from my graduating year, there is a single line entry from one of the guys in my class.

Sorry to hear about that lesbian thing, Marc thought you were hot. Keep kickin’ it - Scott.

“That lesbian thing” he referrs to was the scandal of the prior school year in my small-town. Not that I have ever been (or think I ever will be) a lesbian. No, I do like the boys. But I did get my 16 year-old self drunk at a party, and kissed a girl on a dare.

Big deal you say - you see girls do that at nightclubs for attention all the time. You attend, or maybe even participate in the pride parade. You went (or considered going) to WET. Yes I know. But remember, this was from nine plus years ago. Before Will & Grace. Before Ellen and Rosie even had daytime talk shows, nevermind actually coming out publicly. And this was in a small, homophobic town, where we didn’t even have a token gay hairdresser.

So yes. That lesbian thing. A defining moment in my youth, and a damn funny story to look back on. Especially since I’ve kept in touch with exactly no-one from High School and I’m kinda curious if anyone will bring it up at the reunion in a couple years.

Now hop back in the Delorean and fast-forward to yesterday. I’m driving across the Granville bridge, and a vaguely familiar-ish girl honks and waves at me. I deal with approximately 500 students over any given summer, so random people stopping me to say “hi” isn’t unusual - and I rarely manage to match a name to the face anyway, so I smiled and waved and turned right off the bridge while she continued on straight.

And then it hit me. My lesbian thing. That was Kim Shaughnessy.

I’ve heard through the grape-vine and Google that Kim’s doing well, is a spoken word performing champ (quite literally), and was (though I’m unsure of their status at this time) dating a friend of a friend.

Unfortunately, neither Google nor the grape-vine were terribly forthcoming on any sort of contact information for her. So I can only hope that perhaps she Googles herself someday and see this:

Hi KimKim! It was neat to see you the other day, even though I wasn’t quite quick enough to recognize you. I hope you’re doing well, and should you have the time and/or inclination sometime, it’d be cool to have coffee, reminisce about the past, and catch eachother up on how our lives have turned out so far. *kisskiss* -JenJen.

Thanks to an early birthday present from the lovely (and shiny!) Ellis, my car is suddenly lovely (and shiny!) again herself!

While I slaved away at work for the day yesterday, J’Lo was pampered and primped at the Yaletown Auto Spa, getting a scrubdown inside and out. More pictures on flickr of course.

I don’t think my car was even this clean and shiny the day I bought it almost a year ago - and I certainly haven’t taken much time to de-scuzz the inside on any sort of regular basis since then, other than the (very) occasional throwing out of take-out garbage, and vacuuming out of dog hair.

And just in case you didn’t catch that first part, I’m rapidly approaching the wrong side of my Mid-20’s. July 27th is the 26th anniversary of the day I entered this world. While my wishlists are small, I have updated them in case you really wanted to toss trinkets my way to celebrate the day the world got just a little bit peechier (and who am I to deny you what you want, what you really want), you can find them here and here.

I’m back from the weekend’s regatta, plus medals, a racerback tan line, and a whole lotta muscle ache, minus sleep, sleep and more sleep.

I don’t speak too much about rowing on this site, since frankly, it’s pretty boring to anyone but rowers. However, for the few people who may be interested/curious, I particpated in a Women’s Quad, Mixed Quad, Women’s 8 and Mixed 8. I’m most proud of our Mixed 8, since the crew was a last minute throw-together, and we actually won the entire event (in a borrowed, very heavy boat no less!). That’ll be good for some bragging rights for a week or so.

As for the bit of news I alluded to before I left, I’m one of the newest members of the Metroblogging Vancouver crew. My first piece is currently up. Pop on over and check it out, and if you’ve got any ideas for other city-centric content you’d like to see me contribute, let me know!

Thanks everyone for your stress-busting advice! I’ve obviously been taking it, and since blogging wasn’t one of your suggestions, I’ve been a bit absent from this particular space.

I’m scampering off to compete in a regatta this weekend, and as far as I know, rowing shells still aren’t generally equipped with wifi - so no blogging over the weekend from me either.

Have a great weekend everyone, and I’ll return on Monday with tales of the event and some news to share.

Work is currently devouring my soul. And all of my time.

Instead of providing any real content I shall ask you, dear readers, to share your favourite way to de-stress.

Ready?

Go.

As work gets busier, social events and obligations pile up, and I seem to have generally less time for everything - including sleep - I’ve decided that I need to take a page off of my friends Jen & Luke’s fridge and abandon my “to do” list for a “could do” list.

You know, all the things I could do if I had the time and inclination.

This tactic immediately frees me of the heavy oppression of the things I am absolutely “to do” and instead reminds me of all the things I would do if I weren’t using my precious little free time to play at the beach with the dog, or rollerblade along the seawall, or eat gelato in my underwear while catching up on the TiVo.

And what’s on this riveting list? Glad you asked…

What I could do: Buy a strapless swimsuit to manage the tan lines on my shoulders, neck, chest & back.
What I’ll probably do instead: Keep wearing the same ol’ swimsuit, and try to fake’n'bake to even things out at some point.

What I could do: Upgrade WordPress from version 1.5 to try and combat some of the comment spam I’m getting.
What I’ll probably do instead: Just stop reviewing the comments that get filtered, and start deleting them all in batches.

What I could do: Finish packing my apartment so I can clean it and move everything easily at the end of the month.
What I’ll probably do instead: Show up in a frenzy, throw away 80% of my belongings, and throw the rest haphazardly in the back of my car.

What I could do: Get my filthy car detailed.
What I’ll probably do instead: Wait until it’s unbearable, or convince someone that I really need a car detailing for my birthday (July 27th if anyone’s counting), at which point it’ll probably cost a mint to have someone else scrape the layers of filth off the interior and exterior, and hopefully evict the ‘mystery smell.

What I could do: Clean the bathrooms at home
What I’ll probably do instead: Better spend my energy convincing the boy that we need a maid sooner rather than later (not a hard sell - we’ve talked about it already, it’s just a matter of finding one - any recommendations?).

What I could do: Stop blogging and get to work…
What I’ll probably do instead: Ok, maybe that one does sound like a good idea.

I’m sure more than a couple of you noticed that I up and disapeared mid-last week and only reappeared yesterday.

I just plumb ran out of time to tell y’all that I was whisking myself away to the middle of nowhere (just outside Vanderhoof) to a family reunion over the long weekend.

The trip was fairly uneventful, and everyone was far better behaved that anyone expected. Except me of course. I went and put my foot in my mouth within 30 minutes of arriving, and managed to say something that sounded like me calling someone fat right to her face. (Obviously I was trying to say something completely opposite.) Oops.

I think my attempt at damage control worked - and there wasn’t really any resulting drama that seemed to linger over the rest of the weekend.

There was one funny incident however, that never would’ve happened before the internet.

If you google my full name (which some family member did) one of the first results that come up is a letter to the editor that I wrote to The Peak - the SFU student newspaper - when I was still in University. It was in response to an article featuring another female student; I was disagreeing with her entire point, and the fact that she used the plight of a marginalized group that she isn’t a member of to help make it.

Turns out the point-maker I berated in my letter is my 2nd cousin’s niece.

Or, if anyone would like to do the math and figure out the relation, she is my dad’s mom’s sister’s daughter’s (dad’s cousin’s) husband’s sister’s daughter (dad’s cousin’s niece by marriage).

I don’t think that technically makes us related.

Good thing too - because after everyone had a laugh, and her aunt confirmed that she is indeed still the basket case I assumed she was in my response, the conversation dwindled and a comfortable hush fell over the crowd.

And in the silence, Neil - looking contemplative and a little creeped out - volunteered that when in university, less old and certainly less wise, he had dated her for a not insignificant period of time.

All in the family indeed. Thanks Google.

While I think it would be pretty great to get a free multimedia phone, I’ve been firmly pushed into the same camp as Darren and Boris on their hatred of the Matchstick annoyance factor.

I was contacted very early on with the Matchstick promotion. I received a comment on my “about” page way back on May 24th and shortly thereafter spoke with Matchstick Jeff on the phone. Because my cell phone service is with Telus Mobility (and will be until my contract runs out next September, or until someone buys me out of it), I don’t qualify for the Matchstick “free phone.” (just in case anyone was still unsure.) It only works on the Rogers network.

Since word got out into the local blogosphere in general, I’ve received countless emails from blogging friends and acquaintances. It seems that Yvonne at Matchstick is encouraging people to spam everyone they know, asking if they meet the following criteria:

Without asking me about my stats or my cellular service provider, the people who keep emailing me can only reliably vouch for 3 out of 5 of the criteria that Matchstick is looking for. Not only that, but 2 out of the 3 criteria my friends could vouch for are highly subjective. And yet the messages still keep flowing in.

The last straw came today when Yvonne herself emailed me, saying a friend had recommended me and do I meet the criteria they’re looking for to get a new phone? If Yvonne did her own research (and dare I say, her job), she’d know that I don’t meet the criteria and moreso that Jeff already contacted me.

I think the idea of word of mouth marketing is a great one, but spamming me, or encouraging spam to come my way is not the way to excite me about it. And to address some past comments from Travis regarding the spam factor - I don’t consider Jeff’s initial email spam. I do think that Yvonne is spamming, and encouraging spam. While my friends are just passing along information that they think might be relevant to me, It falls along the same lines of how a “good luck chain letter” or an email full of pics of “really cute kittens being cute!” might be relevant, but probably isn’t. And as I mentioned, Yvonne already sent me a repeat unsolicited solicitation.

Now I’m annoyed enough that both Nokia and Rogers will be receiving some emails from me regarding their affiliation with and the annoyance factor of Matchstick marketing. I’m sure that’s the last thing they wanted to achieve.

The road to hell is certainly paved with good intentions, and I’m starting to think that there’s also an accompanying bike path, paved with email forwards & spam - and the people at Matchstick are only contributing to its widening.

And one other thing: Matchstick is only looking for 40 local bloggers to give phones to. If it’s already taken six weeks and I’ve heard more about the annoyance factor of their methods than the product they’re trying to advertise, I wouldn’t call them terribly successful or good at what they do.

UPDATE: (July 6/06) I replied to Yvonne’s email, and cc’d it to the general Matchstick info address right after posting yesterday expressing my concern and distaste over the situation. I just received a call from Matchstick Jeff (less than 24 hours later) who called to offer his sincere apology for the flub of being contacted multiple times, and to let me know of the changes they’re making to deal with the inconvenience.

He said that from now on they’d be checking the URLs of their referrals (why Yvonne never did that in the first place I’ll never know - seems very inefficient to me), and while they’ll actively seek referrals, they won’t be asking anyone to pass the information along to (read: spam) their friends and acquaintances.

So, while I sitll say boo to Yvonne’s initial tactis, I say yay to Jeff and by extension to Matchstick. I’m ok with giving him and Matchstick the benefit of the doubt that his actions and promises are more representative of their intent than Yvonne’s were.