Category Archives: Is Crazy Contagious?

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

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We’re into the home stretch, and it’s now a mere 5 sleeps until Vacation! And so I present to you (more for my benefit than yours) what I will need to am going to attempt to get done (in addition to that whole “full-time-job” thing) in the next few days:

Monday:
-Order T-shirts for rowing crew
-Attempt to clean up house so it’s not filthy and/or smelly when I get home
-Laundry
-See friend’s musical
-Start packing
-Make list of things I still need to purchase for trip

Tuesday:
-Hair Appointment, cut & colour
-Contemplate hiring maid service
-Make final hotel bookings & submit final travel documents to airline for potentially speedier departure
-Yoga class
-Deal with all technology hardware/software I need to bring (laptop, mp3 player, camera, etc.)

Wednesday:
-Shopping trip for the things on the list from Monday
-Set up payments for any bills due during the time I’m gone
-Look around in disgust at the cleaning that still needs to be done and make mp3 playlist instead
-Mani/Pedi
-Hot Hot Heat at the Red Room

Thursday:
-Bikini Wax on my lunch break
-Work a billion hours to finish up everything that needs doing at work while I’m gone
-Say a little prayer that things don’t disintegrate in my absence
-Last-minute rowing practice
-Boat unrigging and loading onto regatta trailer
-Pack rowing gear for weekend regatta
-Give up entirely on cleaning, and adopt “frat house” as new decorating theme

Friday:
-Finalize packing, and cry at seeming lack of space for copious amounts of duty-free liquor and carribean rum cake
-Take thievables out of car
-Confirm plans with friends to water my plants, drive me to the airport, pick me up from the airport
-Schlep two sets of luggage to carpool driver’s place
-Pick up Crew T-shirts
-Head for Seattle

Saturday:
-Wake up at Ass O’Clock
-Rig boats at O-Dark Hundred
-Race shortly thereafter
-Collapse
-Race again
-Unrig and load boats
-Tear-ass back to Vancouver, considering the folley of not booking a flight out of Seattle instead as I panic the whole way back that I’ll be stuck in an 8 hour border traffic lineup
-Go to Airport and FLY AWAY!

Biggest Loser

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My Tim Horton’s Roll-up losing streak now stands at 0/15.

And life couldn’t be better.

Remember I mentioned that I only win at the Roll-Ups when something catastrophic happens. Boyfriend dumping, Job ending kind of terrible.

It seems that the opposite is also true.

The more I lose, the better things seem to get.

-Work is gearing up yet going well, and it looks like leaving for Vacation won’t be as catastrophic as I imagined.

-My car has gone an unprecidented amount of time without needing any large-scale repair or maintenance.

-My landlord came by to check out the bathroom, and offered a $200 rent reduction for the month of April (because of the reno-hell) without me even hinting at asking for one.

-I’ve rediscovered snowboarding, which has been about eleventy-frillion shades of awesome.

-I’m completely adorable (thought I’d just throw that in there for anyone who wasn’t sure).

-I had a really, ridiculously good date last night. 8th Grade drawing names in hearts good. Getting home and closing the car door on my finger (ok, kindof ow) because I’m giddy and distracted good.

And now that I’ve completely jinxed myself, I assume things will start going wrong almost immediately. In which case, where’s my fuckin’ cookie, bastards!

Stupid Is…

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In manic preparation for the impending tropical vacation (10 Sleeps Away!), I’ve been going to my local fake ‘n’ bake to get a base tan.

While there, I noticed that my winter hibernation has left me with an ass that, while still fabulous clothed, is a bit more ample than it was over the summer and bears very slight resemblance in texture to an orange peel. Yes. The dreaded “C” word. No, not that one – that I’ll use. The other one. Cellulite.

Now I know some people are more prone to it than others. Even at my very tiniest, I’ve never had flawlessly firm skin. But it was a whole helluvalot less noticeable in August than it is now. And in somewhere around 264 hours, I plan on spending the majority of my days in a bikini.

So, what did I do immediately upon noticing this?

Contemplated my options over an extra large cookie and a full-fat latte, of course.

One Way Ticket (To Hell)

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A post in which I confirm that underneath the seemingly sweet exterior, I am a bad, bad, person.

Some of you may remember a guy I wrote about earlier this year; the one I went out with a couple times, before finding out he “forgot” to mention he had a girlfriend.

Well, it turns out that he’s in the hospital right now. He suffered a sudden lung collapse last week, and it turns out he’s got a puncture that requires surgery.

My first thought* upon hearing this?

Karma, of course. Don’t be a dick. And definitely don’t mess with the Jen.

I’m sure they’re fitting my handbasket with nitrous at this very moment to ensure I go to hell, directly to hell, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

*My second thought really was “damn, that sucks” and I do sincerely hope he’s ok! It’s not like I wished harm upon him or anything – I figured bumbling through life as a First-Class Idiot was punishment enough…

Food Fetish

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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!

Freebie

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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…

The Sound of Settling

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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?

She’s the Man

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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.

Space Oddity

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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!

Gifty

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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!

Splat

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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.

Homey

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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.

Procrastinatrix

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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.

Ouch.

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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?

The Apathy has Taken Over Me

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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!