WorldWideWaterCooler

Anyone who knows me, knows I appreciate good food. I do consider myself a bit of a foodie. Perhaps even a food snob.

However, were other foodies to find out about some of my guilty pleasures, my status would be immediately cancelled, and I’d be ostracized for crimes against reasonable cuisine.

I’m going to risk it.

Looking back, I blame it all on my mother. I was blessed to have a Stay at Home Mom until I was well into my teens. She’s a great cook, and always made me eat a healthy breakfast, packed a nutritious lunch, and had a balanced dinner on the table when my dad came home from work. Pizza nights at my house didn’t happen because she was too tired to cook - they happened as a treat because everyone genuinely wanted pizza.

Sounds pretty good, right?

All of this comes with a dark side.

Because there was always such an abundance of quality good and mostly good for me food around (because really, a house is not a home without cookies!), certain things were pretty much outlawed.

And now, of course, since I’m allegedly a grownup and have full reign over my own pantry the following items that I was never fed as a child make regular appearances in my diet:

- Lunchables
- Handy Snacks
- Pop Tarts
- Sugary Cereals
- Pizza Pops
- Chef Boyardee
- Eggo Waffles
- Kraft Singles

I’m sure there are quite a few other non-nutritive offenders out there that I’ve forgotten, but you get the gist.

I don’t make a regular habit of eating these, but if I’m especially ill or stressed out, I seem to crave them. I suppose the total lack of nutritional content or anything challenging to digest makes them a popular caloric option for an upstet tummy.

So if you see me chowing on white bread grilled cheese sandwiches or eggo waffles, you know something’s up.

And if you have any brilliant ideas about how to make me feel this way about something like broccoli, please pass them on.

And whatever you do, please don’t tell my mom!

So, we all have these stories, right? That early on “the night everything went horribly wrong” date. The date that either signifies the beginning of the end, or turns into one of those stories that everyone laughs about a few years down the road.

Please tell me everyone has those stories!

Because (another) one of those stories happened to me on Friday night.

It was our fourth date, and oh boy did it turn into a doozie.

The problem with me is, nearly everyone gets a second chance. You can do something really stupid on a date with me, and if I think you’re generally OK and pretty attractive, I’ll let you get away with it, as long as it doesn’t happen again.

Since I haven’t seen him since Friday night, I don’t yet know if that date was the death knell, or the “there is nothing embarrassing left to happen” moment. Kinda like the first time you fart in front of your new mate. Except, worse. And no, I was not the one behaving badly.

As much as I’d love to spill the details, I have no idea whether to frame this in a “funny, ha ha” way or a “funny, I’M GOING TO BE ALONE FOREVER” way.

Once I know whether or not he’s going to suitably impress me and turn things around, I’ll let the story loose.

Until then, how about you comment, and entertain me (and everyone else) with those “funny, ha ha” early relationship stories I’m sincerely hoping we all have…

A few friends have tried to set me up with other single people they know, because there’s nothing people in monogamous relationships like to do more than live vicariously through meddling in the lives of their single friends. Not that I’m complaining (yet), but it does lead to some interesting pairings, based solely on the fact that we are quite possibly the last two people that these couples know who are single, and attracted to the gender that other person happens to be.

To illustrate, a conversation happened the other day that made me stop and wonder… is this really what it’s come down to? Is this what’s left? Do I need to start navigating the “best of the rest” in terms of guys who are still single?

Friend: We should really set you up with [random guy]. Here’s a picture..
Self: Hey, he’s pretty cute!
Friend: Yah, and he’s super nice, and really charismatic
Self: Sounds like my type already
Friend: Except he lives in Kamloops
Self: Uh, that’s not really ideal…
Friend: Well, he doesn’t plan on living there forever, he’s thinking of moving down this way..
Self: I suppose if that’s the plan, it wouldn’t hurt to meet him next time he’s down here.
Friend: Awesome! We’ll try to get him down in February for [husband's] birthday.
Self: Good idea!
Friend: Oh, one other thing, you should know that he’s got OCD.
Self: You mean he’s just a little quirky and alphabetizes his sock drawer? Or you mean like, medicated and crazy like “Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets“?
Friend: Actively medicated and in therapy. But despite that he lived and worked in South America for a number of years, and it’s never affected his ability to do his job or have an otherwise normal life!
Self: Well, I suppose I’d rather be with someone who’s got a diagnosed and treatable medical condition than someone who thinks they’re fine, but actually suffers from General Asshattery Disorder, like so many of the guys I’ve dated lately.
**pause**
Self: This is what it’s come down to, isn’t it?
Friend: You may have a point…
Self: Siamese, or Tabby?

Seems this whole “living alone” thing has addled my brain. Instead of doing what I normally do, except alone, I’ve turned into a total bachelor. Not bachelorette… bachelor.

A list of things I have done, that I am not proud of, so far this month:

1. Made Kraft Dinner with cut up hot dogs and called it dinner.
2. Ate said KD on the couch, right out of the pot with a spork.
3. After eating my fill of the KD (I’m not so manly that I can eat a whole box in one sitting), instead of putting the leftovers in some tupperware, I just put the lid on the pot, and put THAT in the fridge.
4. Smelled my laundry to see if it was clean.
5. Febreezed it and hoped for the best when it wasn’t.
6. Told myself that my sheets could last “one more night” 6 nights in a row.
7. Removed my pants immediately upon entering the house and dropped them at the door, because it’s “more comfortable” to hang out in my underwear.
8. Drank milk directly out of the carton, without checking the date, much to my chagrin.
9. Had people over without actually cleaning anything first (if you know me, you know this NEVER happens).
10. Shuffled piles of presents/clothes/things around for the umpteenth time, because I still haven’t unpacked since I came back after spending Christmas away.
11. Left the Christmas tree & decorations up entirely too long already, with no plan for when to take them down.
12. Considered cleaning my car may be a higher priority than cleaning my apartment.

Someone please send help, before I start publicly scratching myself in inappropriate places.

I just realized that I do a somewhat peculiar thing.

I claim to eat a lot of trail-mix. And yes, there is usually a big bag of the stuff on my desk. And yes, the trail-mix does get consumed. Sort of.

I make my own trail-mix. Use the regular premix at the store then add generous helpings of corn nuts, reese’s pieces and at least double the amount of smarties in the stuff.

However when I eat it, what do I do? Pick out all the corn-nuts, reese’s pieces and smarties, and eat those. Occasionally I’ll toss in an almond or cashew for fun. But mostly I just eat the stuff I added, and end up tossing the rest - because who wants to eat a bagfull of rasins and peanuts? Ew.

So, to recap: I buy trail mix, stir in candy, promptly pick out the candy, eat it, and throw away the trail mix.

And why don’t I just buy candy and leave that on my desk? Because that’s unhealthy!

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!

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.

This housesitting thing has been really nice.

Housesitting I have my laptop, a cat, tv, food, beer, books.

Back at home I have a high strung roommate, clutter, papers to be filed, bills to pay, laundry to iron and fold. I also left the house in a state of really needing to be dusted, vacuumed, and otherwise rid of grime. I asked Ray to tackle the bathroom, but I’m not sure if anything else will get done. Remember - the dishwasher detergent bottle is Ray-proof. There are also a thousand other small annoyances - like the fact that I’m sick of my furniture and want new stuff that doesn’t say “I took my parents’ old furniture”, the carpets suck and could really use a professional cleaning, and the bathtub DESPERATELY needs to be re-grouted.

Of course, the annoyances weren’t so apparent until I started housesitting, and remembered what a glorious thing it is to live ALONE. And subsequently, how much I want to MOVE. NOW.

The plan, as it stands so far, is to start on the process of getting rid of all my extraneous crap (I have boxes that I’ve moved more than twice, that haven’t actually been unpacked in that time), and save up some extra money so I can pull a double rent month - keeping the current place while I move in somewhere new, so that I can both find somewhere I LOVE without the pressure of a 1 month timeframe, as well as try to avoid driving myself insane by moving my entire household in one day. I’d also have my car long since paid off by then, which is also a good thing.

The problem with that plan is that it doesn’t have me moving until at least March 2006. Six looooong months away. March is a good time for me to move, since such a high percentage of my income is commission based - and with the nature of spelunking, business slows down in the fall and winter. I’d be incurring moving expenses as my income is picking up again, instead of declining. Living alone also means my rent and utilities will pretty much double - another good reason to wait until the low-pay cycle is on its way out.

Everything logical in me says the original plan is a good, sound one, and I should stick to it.

But there’s a huge part of me that says “live in the moment - do what you feel you need to and everything else will work itself out - living on ramen and KD isn’t that bad…” Especially since I know that if I act like a responsible human being, I wouldn’t actually have to compromise all that much on the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to living.

I think.

Someone stop me.

Starting tomorrow, I’ll be off for 2.5 weeks, housesitting for dearheart and her fiancee while they zip halfway around the world so she can suck up to her future mother-in-law (kidding! I’m sure there’s no sucking up necessary!).

Although I won’t be far from home, I don’t plan on returning to my apartment to replenish supplies after I leave for work tomorrow morning until sometime Saturday afternoon.

Do you think I’ve packed yet? HAH. Of course not.

I have high hopes of getting to sleep at a decent hour for once, and packing in the morning.

Instead I’ll probably go to bed way too late, sleep in later than I want to, and throw stuff together haphazardly, hoping I didn’t forget my toothbrush or clean underwear.

This is how I keep life exciting people. But don’t try this at home - I’m what you’d call a professional.

Thanks to going hardcore with the extracurricular activities, I’m in a world of hurt today.

It’s the hurts-so-good kinda hurt, but still… ow.

So why is it that I’ve been sitting around whining since about 8:00am, and just now (at 3:37pm) realized that hey, maybe I should take some Advil?

Obviously because I am a big dork. Is there any other explanation?

Shortly after I finished ranting and raving at one of my best friends the other day, he looked me dead in the eyes and said:

You are such a GIRL. Have I taught you NOTHING?

It was just the kick in the teeth I needed to finally make me realize what a chump I am capable of being.

As lovable as I am, I sometimes forget that some people’s issues will prevent them from seeing me for the goddess that I clearly am. I know, my sheer awesomeness is just too much for some people. Have I also mentioned that I’m modest?

All that aside though, I am just not feelin’ it with the new guy. And his behaviour as I’ve relayed it to numerious friends demonstrates that he’s probably not all that into me either. As time goes by, the guy I seem to be dating now strays further and further from the person I thought I was getting to know. Which is nothing short of remarkable, because I hardly feel like I know him at all. It’s not from lack of trying, but every time I try to have a serious conversation, he turns it in another direction - either that, or suddently decides it’s time for sleep. Granted, we’re both busy people and sleep is a precious commodity, but in this case, it also seems like a coping mechanism.

He says he knows he “plays his hand close to his chest” and that I shouldn’t take it personally, and that I should keep prodding him. But I do have a bit of self-respect hiding in here somewhere. I’m not about to drag someone’s heart out of their chest to claim it as my own. A heart not given freely isn’t one worth having.

The best relationship advice I’ve ever heard is from a former co-worker of mine, describing how he knew his fiancee was “the one,”

I knew things were different with Julia, because right from the get-go it was so easy to be together. Everything always clicked - it’s never been that easy with anyone else. And from what I’ve experienced before, it never ever gets any easier than that first period of time when you’re falling in love with eachother. When being with her was so easy and felt so right, I knew I had a good thing and I shouldn’t let it go.

That’s how the beginning was with any former boyfriends whom I’ve really, truly loved. Easy. The answer to everything was always just being together - the rest worked itself out. And it always did get harder, and ultimately the relationships didn’t survive.

But I do know what falling in love with someone who’s falling in love with you feels like.

And this isn’t it.

UPDATE: And I grew some balls, and it’s over. No hard feelings, no regrets. BRING ON THE BOYS!

My life has been consumed by wanderlust. If anyone needs a ride somewhere in the next little while, I’m still excited enough about being able to actually GO PLACES with relative EASE AND COMFORT that I’ll probably take you almost anywhere for the low, low price of gas.

Yes, I know that with the price of gas these days the skytrain is probably cheaper - but my car has a trunk, does not smell like feet, and the only scary person you need to sit next to is me.

One of the more amusing side effects of driving instead of taking transit is that I now have to adjust my ideas of how long it takes to get anywhere. Things that used to be an hour away are now 20 minutes. anything that took 30 minutes now takes about 5. It’s really fairly perplexing, and means that I’m freakishly early for EVERYTHING. So my already obscenely short tolerance for anyone who is late has been shortened even further.

But, small price to pay. So if you’d like to come and break the time/space continuum with me even further, let me know. I’m thinking specifically about trips to Ikea and Target - but really, my enthusiasm is still so unbridled at this point that I’d probably drive across town to pick someone up and take them 3 blocks to buy milk.

I’ve been having issues lately with the time-space continuum. Mostly when it comes to remembering what day it actually is when I wake up in the mornings. And this happens EVERY MORNING - only the names of the days change. My internal dialogue goes something like this:

Alarm: *midi of Knight Rider theme*
Brain: MOTHERFUCKERI DONOTWANTTOGETUP!
Body: hits off button and waits for alarm #2

10 minutes go by

Alarm: *midi of Cheers theme*
Brain: damn.
Body: turns off alarm

Brain: I guess it’s time to get on with Thursday.
Brain: OH MY GOD IT’S ALREADY THURSDAY! I HAVE SO MUCH WORK LEFT TO DO THIS WEEK.
Brain: Are you sure it’s Thursday?
Brain: Wait no, it’s Wednesday
Brain: HOORAY FOR WEDNESDAY! PANIC DOWNGRADED!
Brain: Aw damn. It’s only Wednesday… so many days left until the weekend…

I’ve just realized that I left my email client open at home.

There it is, happily chugging away downloading all my messages every 5 minutes and promptly deleting them from the server.

So I can’t check my personal webmail accounts ALL DAY (despite the fact that all I really get on it is blog comments, mailing list stuff, and spam).

The fact that this is of any importance to me whatsoever makes me think I need to wean myself off of technology a bit.

How can you tell I have a paper due? My house is getting more Martha-Clean than it usually is (I washed and IRONED the shower curtain), and I’ve been baking up a storm.

Of course, I spent a few hours baking 5 dozen cranberry-bran muffins last night, then forgot to bring any to work to actually eat today. D’oh!

Tonight’s project: Tiny Cheesecakes, round two… and maybe bang out a few paragraphs.