Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Oh sweet lord how I love it! Freeing, relaxing and fills me with optimism. Of course, this is how I feel afterwards. Before and during are hell, but afterwards, ah, afterwards.

And I'm so happy that I've made the decision that I am DONE with retail. Retail and me have totally broken up. We had an on again/off again relationship for 15 YEARS! That's half my freaking life. Half of my life selling people stuff. How hideous. It may take me a while to find something not in that field, but man am I glad I will be out of it in a little more than a month! A month! That's it! Hurrah for me!

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


I'm hoping writing here will help quell the adrenaline rush, since what I'd really like to be doing is sleeping, but after you get paged by the sexual assault beeper, the adrenaline flows into your stomach like cold water, and all you can do is wait it out.

I was paged tonight to phone a young woman whose friend had just been sexually assaulted. The survivor didn't want to talk, but her friend was interested in some information, and what the options were. I spent ten minutes talking to her about what the centre offers, what our roles are, the time lines for our services, etc etc. Talked a bit about crisis psychology and some of the things her friend might experience over the next few days. I always think I've forgotten tons of my training, and I get paranoid that I'm leaving massive chunks of information out, but when I get down to talking to someone, letting them know how long they have before it would be useless to take the emergency contraceptive pill, or support them in making a plan for how they're going to get through the next twenty-four hours, I feel like I'm actually doing real work that makes a real difference in people's lives. If I can leave this earth knowing that at some point I made another person's life that much more bearable, or their pain that much easier to work through, then my life won't have been a stupid waste of interneting, movie-watching, and procrastination.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Summer Movies

I'm not really aware of it, but along the way I seem to have acquired a bit of an "intellectual" label concerning books, music, movies and other media. And I guess it's true to an extent. What is probably less known about me is that I freaking LOVE summer movies. Smashy, shiny, slick, plotless, jingoistic (there's that "intellectual" thing again), and hackneyed - I love them so. Everyone should go see the Transformers movie because the way the transformers looked when transforming in the air was one of the cooooolest things I've ever seen. The humans in the flick are useless meat-bags who utter completely laughable shit and shouldn't have been in it at all. In fact, I wish there had been NO plot whatsoever. I like my summer movies like I like my porn, it seems - hardcore action, and nothing more.

Harry Potter was dark and has pretty art direction as per usual and I get to watch jail-bait boys be all pensive. Sweet! I'll go see it at least once more.

I'm going to watch the musical "Hairspray" this month too. The original John Waters movie is one of my all-time faves (HELLO!?!?! The heroine is a fat chick named Tracy who gets the hot boy in the end - what's not to love?!?!) so I have to see it and then go for a drink, toasting to the memory of the lovely Divine.

The Simpsons movie is going to be utter shit, I'm sure, and I'm going to see it as well, just for the train-wreckedness of it. I haven't watched almost any of the Simpsons after the 10th season because almost all of the ones I saw made me want to cry out for Conan O'Brien to come back, so I'm not really expecting anything from this movies. Too late in the game, too over-hyped, but I'll see it anyway, and I'm sure some twisted part of my heart will love it.

Some of my all-time favorite summer movies:
- Any of the Terminator films
- Independence Day
- Pirates of the Carribean

Saturday, June 02, 2007


I have found my summer zen moments and they will involve the sweet-ass Mario Party 8 and drinking beer. Everyone is invited!

Friday, May 25, 2007

Caffeine-Free Diet Pepsi

It's been approximately 1,000 years since I wrote in this thing for two reasons: I've been busy enjoying the things that make me happy and I'm also super lazy.

Yesterday I quit sugar, and I don't mean entirely because that would be impossible. I mean eating candy, pop, chocolate, Froot Loops - that kind of thing. I'm still eating ketchup, dammit. I didn't realize how much of an effect this would have on me physically. I have NO appetite and could kill everyone for fun and laugh at the blood spurting out of you all. There is one lone beverage in this world saving me right now, and it is Caffeine-free Diet Pepsi.

I can't have caffeine, and haven't had any in a very very long time, and I don't super miss it anymore. I don't really like Sprite or 7-UP normally, let alone in diet form and it's difficult to find diet ginger ale. And I miss my colas, I must admit. I was a Dr. Pepper addict for a very long time. I suspect if I had one now my heart would explode from three things all at once: the caffeine, the sugar, and the happiness.

Will is a total Diet Pepsi freak, and we discovered a while ago that their caffeine-free version is pretty darn tasty. So that's what I'm drinking right this minute. I think we should all give a silent thanks to it for keeping me from killing everyone I can get my grubby little hands on, and for making my mouth happy.

Monday, May 14, 2007


A bunch of us went bowling for my and Will's birthday (that sounds weird - I want to say "mine and Will's birthday"). It involved lasers and really awful pop/hoochie music, some of which I'm embarrassed to say I knew. A few balls were glow in the dark and my orange sleeves on my baseball shirts showed every piece of lint on them, what with the bitchin' black lights. We went for beers afterward, and I got nicely inebriated - not too much, but enough that I passed out in my bed while Steph and Ethan battled it out on Wii boxing.

The saddest thing is that my right thigh hurts like a mother fucker today - I am so out of shape that bowling injures me. I didn't turn thirty - I'm now ninety-three.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Cross Stitch

It's the easiest thing in the entire world. You sit in front of your TV, you watch yer stories, and you cross-stitch. You can make kitties or puppies or magic angels for your dead kid. You can pretty well do anything you please and it's the easiest thing I've ever done. You can also do things like this:

Really, it's all up to you.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

I've been making excel spreadsheets of everything we sell at work. We used to have a massive binder with everything we sold, its price, and its code. And now we don't. I asked about it a few months ago and was told that she had it at home and was working on putting it into her computer. I haven't seen it, so I said nerts to this, and have made my own. I'm about half done the store so far, and it only took me a few days. God bless laptops. And it actually makes time fly at work, so hurrah!

If it wasn't clear, and I don't think it was, the thing I like today is excel spreadsheets. They're just good fun.

Thursday, April 26, 2007


I could eat cereal for every meal for the rest of my life. Of course, that would shorten my life-span considerably, but you get the idea. Any kind of cereal for the most part, will fit the bill. A list of some of my favorites:

- Froot Loops
- Crispix
- Shreddies (they make me feel super Canadian, for some reason)
- Just Right
- Mini Wheats
- Corn Pops
- Honey Nut Corn Flakes, now called Honey Crunch Corn Flakes

When I was little and eating Mini Wheats, I would pretend they were all contestants in a beauty contest and I was the judge. They were mainly judged on two criterion: if they were complete, with no small chunks missing, and if the frosted side was as smooth and covered as possible. The one I deemed the most beautiful, I ate last.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007


Will made me a certificate to certify that I am "cuter than anyone ever". Signed by him, the one and only member of the Cuteness Committee. How fucking adorable. I'ma going to go kiss 'im.

Monday, April 23, 2007


I am new to the world of taking my digital camera memory cards to London Drugs and asking them to print copies of my digital photos. Having only seen my photos on my laptop, I was unaware of holy truly righteous they were. I also got some two-dollar clip frames and have begun putting them around my place. Now I have photos AND silly paintings I've done on my walls! It's a pretty sweet life.

My Chewbacca "rapture" photo is one of my absolute favorites and is my picture for this blog. It is now hanging up in real life over my sink to inspire me while I do dishes.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

My tongue went black this morning after I swished out my mouth with my new mouthwash. Mouthwash is fun! I thoroughly enjoy the weird dry, burny feeling. It feels like a million bacteria are dying at once. My tongue went black from the Pepto Bismol pills I took last night after eating too much candy while playing video games. I looked it up online. If it wasn't for the internet, that would have been a silly visit to the walk-in clinic!

A recap of things I liked that I discussed:

1. Killing bacteria via mouthwash
2. Black tongue
3. Eating candy while playing video games
4. The internet

Thursday, April 19, 2007


Will and I bought a Wii today and I could pee my pants in excitement! His old room-mate had one and it was sooo dang fun. I'm planning on having a thousand Wii hangouts involving junk food, beer and Wii.

We checked around a bunch of stores yesterday, and no dice. Some places practically laughed at us. So I made a "places to harass" list of phone numbers to call every day until I got one. And it worked like a charm! The second one on my list, the HMV in Mayfair said they had four. I asked if they would hold one for me? No. Even if I gave my credit card number? No. Would they have any left in an hour? Maybe. So, we ran out the door, caught the bus, quietly cursed everyone who got on or off the bus, including the pokiest bus driver in all eternity. I even called him a "cock-smoker" under my breath. We ran through the parking lot, quick-walked our way through teenagers and got to HMV out of breath. They had one left. We had gotten there in forty minutes and they had one left. WOOHOOO!

We had a celebratory lunch of New York Fries hotdogs and french fries. It was an excellent day.

Will Ferrell

Just got back from "Blades of Glory" and oh my was it stupidly hilarious. I giggled and snorted and rolled my eyes at all the ridiculousness and testicle jokes. It was an amusing hour and a half that I'll surely forget I ever saw in a year or two, but until that time...

"The guy who invented rope is an A-HOLE!"

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Red Dwarf

Growing up, on Sunday afternoons with nothing to watch on TV, I'd idly flick the channels and always seemed to come across this show about British people in space. I had a burning curiosity as to why one of them had an "H" on his forehead so I'd stick around for a bit, hoping it would come up. I could never understand what anyone was saying, so I'd give up, annoyed and un-entertained.

Then I guess my ears developed or something, and it was the time of year for the PBS "Red Dwarf" marathon, as I then realized it was called, and I fell in love with it. I figured out that Rimmer was dead and a total smeg-head and that I had this burning need to watch all of them one after another for an entire weekend. The next year I waited in anticipation, blank VHS tapes at the ready, and a chocolate bunny and some peanut butter by my side (the marathons were always around Easter it seems).

Now Will and I are borrowing the DVD collection from our local rental place and burning them, woohoo! Soon I will have all my Red Dwarf at my side again and NOT on disintegrating VCR tapes! It's dang exciting.


I've been collecting quotations since I was the mediator-speller at a spelling bee at Sangster Elementary school when I was in Gr. 7. I sat on the side with this massive, massive dictionary and I would be the deciding rule if there were any disagreements about spellings. Needless to say, these disagreements were few and far between, so I began to peruse this massive tome, only to find that there was a collection of quotations at the end. Part Webster's, part Bartlett's? I have no idea. But that's when I started to become fascinated with quotations.

By Gr. 10 I bought a note book to write them all down in. I now have three notebooks, all with Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" on the front, in slightly different designs. A few years ago I decided to type them all out as well into a Word document. It's about 150 pages long. I also created an alphabetical version of the quotes. I guess this makes me a humongous dork, but whatevs. I like me the quotes, and sometimes they were what I needed to get through some crappy times. Goethe was one of my favorites as a kid, and I had to be corrected by my mom that it wasn't "Go-eth" but "Gout-uh". I'd spell it out with the correct IPA but damned if I can remember the IPA anymore.

Life's a jest and all things show it,
I thought so once, and now I know it.
- epitaph of John Gay

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Baseball Shirts

I bought myself a couple of 3/4 sleeve baseball shirts - orange and blue. Holy fuck am I loving them. So damn comfy. They're bright, shiny colours and aren't just plain ol' boring ol' t-shirts. They've got weird sleeves! They've got a slightly interesting cut! Woohoo to that!

I'm a lazy dresser by nature, I admit. I've been trying to figure out ways to dress slightly more interesting without making it a chore. Thank you, baseball shirts for making it that much easier.

P.S. The juxtaposition of my enormous ta-tas in a boyish shirt is also quite enjoyable.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Back to Thing I Like

Days at work that go buy hella-fast. I'm usually the kind of worker who stares at clocks and figures out all kinds of fractions and what not of what I have left. Like, I have 2 hours and 15 minutes, so that's 9 fifteen-minute segments, blah blah.... But today was ridiculously fast and painless. It always helps when friends stop by that you haven't seen in forever, your boy brings you a sammich, and you get to play your gameboy. So that's what I did. It was pretty sweet.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Things I Hate

It's going to be about things I hate around here for a while. Just in that kind of mood.

I fucking hate housework. It's a never-ending abyss of exhaustion and ennui. You do the dishes, you make yourself a sandwich and you've also made yourself some more fucking dishes.

How can I have so much laundry for someone who has almost nothing ever to wear? I mean, hell, if I'm going to have to do so much fucking laundry, I might as well have nice things to wash - but it's all just blah t-shirts and sweaters with some grey or brown fucking pants. Garhg.

Papers. Papers fuck on my floor to make new papers - these baby papers, these little tiny scraps of grocery lists and whatnot are too big to vacuum up but too fucking annoying to pick up by hand, which is what I end up doing anyway since I want the infestation to stop. Paper is more fertile than mice, people.

I think that's enough for now.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Kurt Vonnegut

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. I can't believe I have fucking things to do today.

"Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops."

- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

I started reading Kurt Vonnegut when I was seventeen and I don't think I'll ever stop.

Shit, I should just be glad he didn't succeed in killing himself in 1984 when he attempted to.
God, I'm bad at keeping this updated. Um, I like the way books smell. Yeah. They smell good. Rock on, books.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007


We're making a motherfuckin' turkey dinner, MUTHAFUCKAHS! TUUUURRRRRRRKEEEEEY!

Monday, April 09, 2007

The world of Mario is amazingly happy. There's so many shiny, happy colours, stars, mushrooms, little games of running around and getting stuff. I love Mario Kart and Mario Party so much it's kind of ridiculous. Playing a mini-game of seeing who can dust furniture the fastest? Yes please. Running around in a little vehicle on a cupcake collecting stars? I'll take two, thank you.

There's no violence or anger - there's just little dudes running around collecting points and things. Sometimes you get bonked on the head and a little circle of stars dances around. If that's the worst thing to happen to you in a day, that's pretty fucking awesome.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

I like briefly-warm things. As a kid I loved jumping into the warm piles of laundry on my mom and dad's bed. My mom got mad at me every single time and to this day I have NO idea why. What the hell is so wrong with enjoying the fleeting heat of the warm clothes? Now that I do all of my own laundry, I still like to sit on my bed, pile the clothes up around and over me while I fold them. If I'm having a shitty day, I'll take the towels, lie down and use them as blankets. So warm and cuddly.

Whenever I was in school and had to get massive amounts of photocopy done, I would hold the finished sheets close to me and suck up the heat and that inky smell through my chest and inner arms. Like a hot bath, once they were cold the laundry and the photocopies meant almost nothing to me - they were placed back on the shelf of just regular things - but for those few fleeting heat-moments they had the ability to make me stop, relax, and think about nothing but how good it felt to be warm.

Friday, April 06, 2007


I've been making lists since I could write. Some of my first journal entries, when I was about seven, are lists of bands I liked (I liked Wham better than Duran Duran, fyi) and rating my friends with certain symbols. Now I make lists of things to do, to buy, to fix on my website, of adventures to attempt. The most important and useful lists I make now are daily, general to-do lists. Yesterday I forgot to do that. Yesterday I forgot to write in this blog. Not a coincidence, folks.

I've always thought that writing lists helps free up your brain from having to try to remember things - write it down and you can think about yams, or hydrofoils, or the nature of beauty. And I think I thought about all those things yesterday, and completely forgot to write in here, because I usually, truly, honestly write it down. It looks something like this:

- phone work
- dishes
- laundry
- return library books
- update fun blog

So, from now on, I'll make sure to write it down so I won't forget to remember that there are beautiful things in the world.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Six Feet Under

I just bought the entire Six Feet Under Series. We bought hot dogs for dinner tonight, and a shrimp ring for tomorrow so we dont' have to cook anything that takes more than heating in a pot. I will be a S.F.U. zombie for the next week. Hurrah! And oh, how I will cry.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Standing Up For Myself

I consider myself a bit of a pushover, I admit. I like making people happy and I like making people like me. It makes me feel better, even if part of me feels like shit for letting them bend me over backwards without so much as a warm-up spank.

And I'm getting too damn old to be such a fucking contortionist. So I said fuck that, and I'm trying to stop it. Working with the police in my sexual assault volunteering, I'm not letting them give us shit. I'm standing up for the survivor and making sure she doesn't feel like a criminal, when in fact they're supposed to be working FOR us and doing what WE want. I did that last Sunday night, told the cops how long they could stay and chat, and that no, they would not be seeing her after her forensic exam, but the next afternoon after she could finally get some sleep. They didn't like me, but they did what I asked and that's what matters.

I've also started to stand up a bit more to the boss of the store I work at. I'm officially refusing to say "my boss". YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME. Exactly.

And please note I'm not talking about being a rude bitch here - I'm talking about not letting people be disrespectful because they think they can get away with it with me since they have in the past. Mrs. Potato Head wouldn't stand for it, so neither will I.

Monday, April 02, 2007

James Kochalka

Good ol' James Kochalka. He draws himself and his wife like elves, but his son like a human, and his friends like monsters or animals.

He's been doing daily comic strips for a thousand years or so, and they're really great. If you read just one of them you sort of go, "meh, it was cute, whatever". It's the whole work of them together that's amazing. His website's archives are only available to those who subscribe, so I buy the books instead. And they're so good, so very very good. If you know of any comic who does daily strips, I can (for the most part) assure you they got the idea from James.

I read James Kochalka when I feel like shit for being a human being. I start to feel good again, and that my imperfections and the imperfect world around me are more beautiful for being so. James works better than Vodka or therapy for me. He will always have a place in my heart and on my bookshelves and if I believed in God, I'd put in a good word to him about good ol' Mr. Kochalka.

Chocolate and Peanut Butter

Holy FUCK do I love a chocolate Easter Bunny with peanut butter smeared all over it. You can get super cheap-ass chocolate, some smooth peanut butter and you're in for a gorging good-time. It's best if you watch a lot of Red Dwarf while doing it. I don't know why, but it just makes it better. Sadly I don't have any Red Dwarf. I'll carry on, somehow....

Saturday, March 31, 2007


I just got back from listening to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony - something I thought I would never hear live because I've never heard of it being performed. I'm not quite sure why that is, but I doubt I'll ever get the chance to hear it live again.

Holy shit was it fun. I almost started crying in the first opening bars of the first movement. And oddly enough that's the movement I have stuck in my head - you'd think it would be the Ode to Joy chorus, but no. I haven't missed my music school days this much in years. I thought of all of my old friends from there, and I was shocked when the concert master came out and it wasn't Kerry, and what the hell was the tall guy doing in Regan's spot? Ahh, I missed you all.

My hands hurt from clapping and soon it's time for bed after the musical extravaganza.

Seid umschlungen.

Friday, March 30, 2007


Will and I went downtown today to get some paint thinner to remove the random red splotches of paint around our house. We passed by Roberta's Hats so we decided to pop in and see about some fun hat trying on. We noodled around a bit - we were the only people in there and there were three women working - how do they stay in business? I wandered into the kid's section to see these really cute bee hats - black and yellow striped with two antennae on the top. Sooo cute. And lo and behold, there was one that was ginormous! I tried it on and one of the ladies was all, "please don't try on those hats - they're for kids and you'll stretch them out.." but I showed her that it was a massive hat and I hadn't stretched it at all and that I was going to buy it. It was only twenty smackers, and that's a cheap price to pay to walk around looking like a dork in a bee hat.

We had to stop by Steph's work and harass her, natch, and she thought it was cute, so all was right in the world. It's mighty warm under it, what with it being a toque and all, so I'll only be wearing it on the chilliest of these hot summer days ahead. But man, I'm sooo prepared for winter now.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Demeter Perfume

When I was getting my last tattoo and discovering Glaxal Base (as discussed before) my friend Emily also told me about this perfume she wears that smells like a Gin and Tonic, made by the good people at Demeter. They make all kinds of crazy-ass scents and they were the people who released a Play-Doh perfume for its fiftieth anniversary. So, I wanted some dang weird-smelling perfume.

Me and my friend Steph searched around town for it only to find that no one in Victoria sells it. Perfume is really the kind of thing you want to smell and try on before buying it, because even if it smells nice in the bottle it could smell like fried ass on you. This was a conundrum.

I bit the bullet though, because I'm fiscally irresponsible and ordered some online off of I got the thoroughly safe "Orange Creamsicle" and today it finally arrived. It took like two bloody weeks and for some reason was put as "extremely urgent" packaging and cost approximately one trillion dollars for shipping. Well, not that much, but the actual shipping was more than the perfume. Snap.

I got home today and Will had already opened it and smelled it to see if he was allergic to it. It passed the William test. So I sprayed it on and now I smell like a delicious Orange Creamsicle, possibly one of the best inventions ever.

I smell like summer, and I will smell like this alllll summer. I'm almost set. I've got my summer nail polish and summer perfume. Now all I need is a summer lip gloss and mixed cd and we're fucking good to go.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Garbage Sculpture

Long time ago when dan lived in Canada and I was going to school, we would take many lunches together during the week while he was working at The Martlet. I guess we're fiddly people, and all the garbage from our accumulated lunches would invariably turn into grotesque sculptures such as this:

As you can see, we named it Bernice, or Mr. Shrivelhead II, since we had already created something called Mr. Shrivelhead. We would do this. Everyday. Five days a week! It was ginormous amounts of fun and quite disgusting. We had to gingerly carry back that sculpture to the Martlet office so we could photograph it.

I don't seem to be doing much garbage sculpting anymore. I guess I'm not eating lunch with super-fiddly people anymore, but dammit, I should be! So, anyone out there who can't sit still, let's make a plan for some cafeteria food. Leave your shame and/or dignity at home.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Painting Furniture

Will and I live in a white box. What with the relative poverty, all of my furniture was either bought at the Salvation Army, Zellers, or free by the dumpster. Or given to me. What this means though, is that it's almost all a hideous, dark brown veneer. Coupled with the white/cream box-walls the place is down-right dreary. So, we said, "fuck this noise" and went to Canadian Tire and got us a whack of painting supplies. Since we can't do anything about the walls, we sure as shit will do something about the furniture.

We've only done one piece so far since the weather hasn't really been very co-operative, and it looks fucking AMAZING. We painted our shitty kitchen table Poppy Red and I can't stop staring at it. It's still outside on our patio and needs to have some weird bubbles/cracks sanded down and repainted but it looks glorious. I want to get an orange vase and put flowers in it every day forever. We have enough left over red paint that we're going to paint over the dark green of my dresser with the it, but keep its blue drawer fronts. The computer desk will be orange (Will is in the midst of spray painting his computer yellow) and the coffee/TV table is going to be a dark-ish lime green. It will be a rainbow in here, people!

So exciting and so damn fun. Putting colour on things has always made me smile, and painting furniture was one of the things I would do when having a nervous breakdown. It's nice that this time around I'm perfectly sane and incredibly happy.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Chocolate Milk

Chocolate milk, or as I like to call it, "chocker milk" is in my top ten most comforting food items out there. It's creamy, it's chocolatey, it's milky, it's wonderful. Every night Will and I have a glass of it in the hour of 11 pm. We call it, "the chocolate milk hour". Tonight we cheated and had it straight after our Thai curry, because holy jeezus was that spicy!

I don't get the store-bought, pre-mixed stuff because it's 2% and I really don't need the extra calories, and it can be a little too milky for me. We just use the Nesquik squeeze bottle kind. I like it because it's shaped like a bunny, AND you can put it on ice cream as a poor-man's chocolate sauce. Handy! We just stir it up in the skim milk and have ourselves a grand old, chocker time.

I suggest the next time you feel crappy you get yourself some chocolate milk. Unless you're allergic to either chocolate, or milk. And if that's the case, disregard my statement. And you have my sympathiees.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

London Drugs

I don't know how it happens, but I seem to spend at least fifty bucks every time I walk into London Drugs. I walk in and think, "Yes. This moment. This is the moment in my life when I will become the organized person the twisted little girl inside of me so desperately needs me to be. Today. Right now."

So, I buy clarifying shampoo to get rid of build-up. (I got the Neutrogena kind and holy FUCK is that a great shampoo!) A new nail-polish that I'll wear for the entire season that will be my "signature". New toothbrush heads for my electric toothbrush. Some kind of cream or cleanser that will make my skin unto a new-born's. I actually bought a table-top ironing board and an iron. What do I think I'm going to iron? Who knows. Hooks for my house, lightbulbs for my lamps, batteries for my toys, chocolate for my sanity.

I buy them all and the white plastic bags I trundle home fill me with hope of a new life, a new system of being, which never happens, and could not. The world decays, I get lazy, and that's really actually okay. But I'm addicted to that hope and that rush of a seemingly just-out-of-reach perfectly ordered life, and I seem to think that London Drugs will help me finally grasp it.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Talking to People About Sex Toys

I gave a sort-of-lecture today up at UVic for AVP's "Exploring Healthy Sexuality" Seminar, and it was so much fun. I made a power point for it, brought my toys and business cards, and had a great ol' time.

I mainly talked about toy basics, and it's stuff that can be found on my website. I get so damn energized and excited about talking in front of groups though, and it's like I'm high for a few hours afterwards. I get people to laugh at my dorky jokes, ask questions about jerking off and toys, and all-round have a good time. It makes me feel like I'm doing something good and positive and wholesome. I'm sure there's a lot of people out there who would think I'm going straight to H-E-double hockey sticks for what I do, but they can go suck a fuck.

I started giving toy workshops about five years ago, with just the knowledge I'd gleaned from books and personal experience. I've kept on reading and learning and using toys and I feel like this great resource now of sex toy info for people who are curious but don't know where to start. It's a fantastic feeling and I looooove talking to people about their own experiences - with toys or sex in general - and I always learn so damn much from people.

It's days like this I love everyone and the whole world and can't wait until I make this my full-time job/purpose. That would be dreeeeamy.

Friday, March 23, 2007


I do not eat enough vegetable. Nowhere near enough. I hated cooked veggies as a child and I hate them still. I really only like them raw, and what with my crap-ass jaw, raw veggies aren't much of a choice. So, V8 it is!

I'm like a little old lady getting her meals through a straw, but hey - 250 ml of V8 has TWO servings of vegetables! That's two more than I was averaging.

When I first tried it, it was like drinking tepid Campbell's Tomato Soup. I hate tomato soup. So, next time 'round I made sure it was ice-cold and it wasn't so bad. And it keeps getting less bad. Now I kind of like it. The boy puts Tabasco sauce in his, and I think I'll give that a whirl.

I don't want to die from all the bad things that can happen when you don't eat your veggies (death from lack of chest hair being one I remember from my youth) but man do I hate eating those fuckers. So, now I just drink a few, rather quickly, and it's over and done with. Then I eat some chocolate with peanut butter, because hey - let's not go nuts here.

Thursday, March 22, 2007


Fucking cake, man. So good. Who the hell doesn't like cake? Commie-nazis, that's who.

A few years ago I started getting cake mixes, icing the results and writing stuff on them. I made a "suspenders and stationery" (my two fetishes), an "I have no idea what I'm doing" and a "Valentine's Schmalentines. Let's fuck". If snail mail is what you consider to be the slowest form of communication, I have a delicious retort (re-torte? hehehe..) for you.

1. Buy a cake mix
2. Make the cake
3. Let it cool (or the icing will melt, kids!)
4. Ice that bad boy
5. Write your message on it

Figure out a way for that cake to be sent to someone - go and deliver it, ship it, get a friend to drop it off, or shove it in their faces. Or you can eat the cake, digest your message, let it become part of you and spend your life embodying that message. Now that's some slow delivery.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007


I have IBS. It ain't pretty. It can often mean I get a wee bit fearful about leaving the house if I know that I won't be able to access a toilet easily or quickly. It super-sucks.

But! I read up on it once I was diagnosed and was informed that upping soluble fibre in my diet would help me. This is what Metamucil is. Sweet, sweet soluble fibre. And yes, that's "fibre" not "fiber".

I get the orange, sugarless kind and plop a rounded teaspoon of it in a cup of cold water every morning before any food goes in my guts at all. Stir it up, drink it down, and I'm good to go. I don't really notice what happens when I take it, but I sure as shit (ah haha HAH) can tell when I forget. Yikes. So, Metamucil doesn't make me ecstatic so much as it makes me a functional human being. And that effing rocks, Metamucil.

I've even started my boyfriend drinking it, since it's just good for anyone, and he calls it "bum juice" which amuses and repulses me at the same time. I have to remind myself every time he says that he's drinking his bum juice that - "ah yes, juice FOR the bum, not FROM."

Rock on, Metamucil. Thanks for saving my ass.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Fountain Pens

I first introduced myself to fountain pens while roving for a stationery fix at either Monk's Office Supplies, or at a Grand & Toy. I later worked at a G & T, and no, I cannot tell you were the toys are because THIS IS SO OBVIOUSLY A STATIONERY STORE.

There's disposable fountain pens, much like regular disposable pens, so I thought I would give one a whirl. They made me feel smarter, more artistic, and cooler than everyone else. Until it ran out. Then I needed more. MORE. MOOOORE!!! So I bought some more. And then I realized for what I was shilling out, I might as well just buy a damn non-disposable one.

My boyfriend at the time, a cellist and an all-round luddite, bought me one - a LAMY fountain pen in blue. I used it and loved it and we eventually broke up, but I kept the pen. The pen was a kind of annoying reminder of him so when I lost it I wasn't too upset.

Years later I somehow got the itch again, so away I went with my platonic friend dan and we both bought one. I got the clear LAMY, he got the brushed metal one. We got purty ink bottles too, and the cool little suction dealies that suck the ink right into the pen.

So, I have this pen. And I use it when I want to feel special. On special paper, writing such special things like grocery lists or all the wonderful things I want to get at London Drugs, or the mundane tasks to do at work. Because sometimes what you have to do is as get-out-sucky as it can be, but if you can list the shit sequentially on nice paper with a fancy-ass, fifty-dollar pen, maybe the day will suck less.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Mrs. Potato Head

A good friend of mine turned thirty today, and in a few months I will be doing the same. Needless to say that means I grew up in a time of Barbies and Easy-Bake Ovens. I thought those were girly enough - I can't imagine growing up female today surrounded by hyper-sexualized Bratz dolls and thongs for small girls. Hideous. But during that time of fussiness and Home Ec. as play-time, there was a beacon of the feminine not wrapped up in the skimpy lingerie of sex, or the apron strings of motherhood. And that was Mrs. Potato Head.

And count your lucky stars that's she's still around! Yes, she isn't as changeable as her male counterpart, but dammit, she doesn't need to be. She's got her big ol' red handbag, her massive ear-rings, her kicky visor and she's going to win at Bingo tonight, no matter what fancy good-luck charm Esther claims to have.

Her butt is so roomy you can store her accessories there. What woman could we find on the streets today who is so bold? I'll tell you: not one damn one.

And that's why Mrs. Potato Head is my new model of femininity. You get down with your bad self, Mrs. P!

Sunday, March 18, 2007


No, I'm not specifically posting on the letter G. It's all a coincidence, I swear

I was never particularly fond of flowers - they were always too frou-frou or stinky for me. The last year or so I've started to become fond of them, but they had to be bright and kind of silly. Delicate and feminine need not apply.

I'm addicted to one of my Nintendo DS games called "Animal Crossing". In it, you mainly pick fruit and sell it, pay off your mortgage, buy things to decorate your house, and write letters to your neighbours. It's a lot like real life except all your neighbours are cute animals, and you can decorate your house with things like hazmat barrels.

One of the things you can also decorate your house with is a pot of gerberas. When I got some, I opened them up and could see a group of pixels I thought were rather cute. So the next time I was at the grocery store I glanced through the piles of fluff to see if I could catch the name. There they were in all the happy-faced dorky glory! So happy! So dorky!

I had found my happy flower. These are the kind of planty-bits you buy yourself when you're having a shit-tacular day, or you just want a flower that says, "yep, I'm the prototypical flower shape from your childhood, the kind you drew in front of that prototypical house with that tree off to the right". Oh how I love the gerbera.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Glaxal Base

I've recently gotten a new tattoo done by my friend Emily at Urge Studios here in Victoria, and she did a fan-fucking-tastic job. During the whole "how to take care of it" speech she mentioned Glaxal Base, a very basic, non-perfumed moisturizer, and Will piped up that he had used it before and it was quite nice. So we went off to the drugstore to buy it, plus some other drugstore-sundries. (Lord how I love to shop in drugstores. London Drugs is like crack to me.)

We got the thinner "lotion" rather than the tub of "cream" - I thought it would be easier to slide over my soon-to-be-peeling tat. It comes in a rather unpretentious packaging - white packaging that blends down to baby blue with dark blue lettering. It's made by the good people at Wellskin, and I'm in love with it.


It has a faintly medicinal odor, but nothing that reeks of death-hospital. It absorbs quickly and leaves my skin wicked-ass smooth. I started using it on my face since old-man-Winter has shat his dryness on it. It was nice, but still not thick enough. So, I added the tub o' Glaxal Base cream to my ever-growing army. Oh my god. So thick. Thickthickthick. Thick like a gorgeous wang. I loofahed my face and piled it on. I'm in moisturizing heaven.

I have found my moisturizer for life. I always wanted to be one of those women, the ones who know exactly what's going on their face and why, and how inexpensive and wonderful it is.

I declare Glaxal Base to be the women of my generation's Nivea Cream.