Christmas comes but once a year

- leave a message. I'm not here.

[well, I'm in Toronto, just taking a break from blogging]

Is it some sort of white thing?

Last night I had dinner with a guy I worked with 10 years ago. It was great to catch up with him. We've stayed in touch all along, but we rarely get a chance to meet up. We also don't keep up with one another's day to day life anymore. He lives out of town so we see each other once, maybe twice, a year when he comes to Toronto for conferences.

I was mentioning that my bf was travelling for a month. At that point my friend asked what had happened to the other guy I was dating who he had met a couple of years ago. I had absolutely no clue who my friend was talking about. I was wracking my brains trying to think of anyone I was involved with two years ago who could possibly have met this friend. I asked him, "Dave? Are you thinking of Dave?" - even though he knew my ex Dave quite well, and that relationship ended five years ago.

He slowly said, "No. No, it wasn't Dave. I know Dave. No, this was Rick? Todd?"

I was so lost.

"We were eating at Terroni's. He met you after that."

I suddenly knew exactly who he was talking about. First of all I hadn't clued in because my friend had the timeline off by a year. It was only last year that we had met D.

Secondly, I had no clue why my friend hadn't just mentioned that D. is black. I guess my friend thought it would be racist or inappropriate to say something like, "He was a black man", but it would have made perfect descriptive sense and I would have clued in right away.

It would be different if someone told me, "I'm going to meet my friend for coffee. She's Chinese", or, "Do you want to join me and my boyfriend for dinner? He's Indian." In both cases the race is irrelevant. As would any major description at that point be. It would also be pointless to try and narrow down my three long-term boyfriends by describing one as white because they were all white.

But what on earth is wrong with describing someone's race if it is a unique characteristic? Skin colour is just like our hair colour or body type. It makes us who we are, and it shouldn't have to be associated as wrong to say.

On the other hand, if R. tries to differentiate me from past girlfriends by stating that I'm the older, heavier one... I will have to kill him.

Eight random facts

(1) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

(2) People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules.

(3) At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

(4) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.


1. I have had a crush on someone for 26 years.
2. I hate baseball to this day because of traumatic memories of no one wanting me on their team in grade five. What made it worse was that I was quite popular and the team captains chose the class outcasts before me.
3. I have plates and screws holding my upper jaw together
4. Often when I leave the house in the morning I run back to make sure that I turned the stove off.
5. I can't sleep with my back to the door or with the closet door closed.
6. I wouldn't care if my bf hired a sex worker but I would care if he had sex with a woman he knows who doesn't respect me
7. For the past 12 years I've either lived on my own or with a boyfriend. As such, I almost never close the bathroom door if I just have to pee, and have to remind myself to do so when I have friends over.
8. I am scared of so many things but I rarely let my fears hold me back.

I tag: Laverne, Brice, Freak, Stewie, Greg, Hotdudi, Madame Rouge, and Coffeedog

I can't remember who hates memes and who loves 'em, so please if I tagged you and you don't want to participate - that's fine. If you want to do this and I didn't tag you, my apologies and please go ahead and do so. The more the merrier!

Bye bye boyfriend

Not in a permanent sense, but my bf has gone travelling for the next month. It will be a much needed break in a very chaotic work schedule for him. For me though, it means I will be alone on Christmas, my birthday, and New Year's. Well, obviously not alone. Of course I have friends and family. It just is difficult that finally we were both in the same town and able to have a more normal pattern together when - poof! He's gone again. It will be interesting to see for both of us if this month pans out as "absence makes the heart grow fonder" or "out of sight, out of mind". Hopefully the former!

Take a moment

Today is World AIDS Day. Last year the Canadian government pledged millions, along with the Gates Foundation, to create a state of the art centre to find a vaccine for HIV. That's fantastic and all, but what our government also decided was to recoup costs on some of the millions pledged to this initiative by taking that money away from funding designated for community groups. Ontario was the province that took the hit.

Community groups in Ontario have seen their funding slashed by 30% - and these are not groups that were exactly wealthy to begin with. Ontario's Minister of Health spoke out against these cuts.

For those of you in Ontario, if you have not yet decided where to direct your charitable contributions for the year, please consider donating to a local AIDS Service Organization. You can make online contributions directly through canadahelps.org, or for some organizations such as Toronto People with AIDS Foundation, you can donate from their web site.

Perspective

Sometimes I forget that other people aren't used to high conflict in relationships. I was talking once with a friend of mine and he stated that once he had been so angry at a girlfriend that he had slammed a door.

I started laughing and confessed that I had been so angry at a boyfriend that he had had to jump out of the way as I drove down a sidewalk in an attempt to run him down.

Adjusting

What used to be blogging time is now commuting time. What used to be "let me comment on blogs during my breaks" at my old job is now, "I'd better not read any blogs until I've been here for a while". I'm still not used to visiting blogs only in the evening so bear with me as I adjust to the new schedule.

Because the bed is not comfortable?

My cat Tasha likes to sleep on top of my stacked clean towels. Or any clean laundry. Fur Snake claims any sweater or pair of pants that I leave lying on the floor. She favours the sweaters because they are the most difficult to remove cat hair from. The couch and bed, both of which can stand a little cat hair, are left for me. Unless there is a chance for either cat to sleep on my favourite pillow.

I give up.

Pumpkin parade

I took a different route home yesterday and when I arrived at the nearby park I saw hundreds of Jack o'lanterns all lit up. It was magical. Apparently the area was having a pumpkin parade.

[pics courtesy of bigdaddyhume whose Flickr site I stumbled across of the event]

New math

Last night I was out buying something that was priced $9.99. I asked the cashier for $40 cash back. Now, logically, doesn't your mind think "hmmm... that's $10 plus $40 so $50 should be the total, plus a bit for tax."

Instead she handed me the keypad to punch in my PIN, and the total read $31. She had subtracted the purchase price from my cash back. When I first saw the price I said to her, "$31? But, I asked for $40 cash back"

Her look was completely blank. Or not so much blank as, "But that's what I gave you" In fact she did try to explain that that was what I was getting.

Sweet Mary, mother of god, we are all getting too reliant on machines. It took over five minutes for the supervisor to come and void the transaction and for the girl to run it all through again. She wasn't a stupid girl. She seemed quite bright, but quite frankly, this is the sort of mistake that NO person in high school should be making, no matter what their intelligence level. She just wasn't used to using her mind so that when she had entered the numbers incorrectly into the cash, she couldn't see that it literally didn't add up.

I was reading somewhere that we need to start using our minds more for simple memory in order to stay sharp. The article recommended memorizing phone numbers. It's true that I have no clue [apart from my parents' number] what anyone's phone number is. They are all programmed into my cell phone. Machines are great, but in some ways they are dumbing us down as a society.

Taking a deep, deep breath

I am starting a new job in a few weeks. I gave my notice today.

It is so hard to let go. My current job is my whole identity. It's my passion and it's my love. But I'm getting stale. I don't see what needs to be changed anymore. I'm in a rut and I know that it's time to move on. Still, I'll miss this place so much. I don't think I'll ever get another library job like this one.

Here's part of an email I sent when ordering items a few months ago :

If you have time, can you please send the brochures in the mail (and you’re right – it’s the blow job tips that I wanted – and I feel bizarre typing that last bit…)

Sigh. Yeah, I'm going to miss working here.

Out of the ether

Yesterday I received an email that made me smile all day. It was from a guy I met online about two and a half years ago. He had without a doubt one of the funniest most stand-out profiles I'd ever read. We emailed for a bit and then before we had a chance to meet, he met someone at a bar, and was decent enough to let me know that that had happened and that he was going to pursue her.

A while later, I noticed his profile online again - only somehow or other I didn't notice that it was the same guy. He had changed his picture and I was caught up in reading a different section of his profile. That's my excuse. I emailed him again. His reply pointed out [very nicely] that we had emailed before. He noted that he and the woman he had met at the bar had dated but it hadn't worked out. I was so utterly mortified that I hadn't recognized his profile from before that I almost didn't send him a reply. But I did.

I never heard back until yesterday.

Originally when I had never heard back, I just chalked it up to me being so moronic in not having recognized his profile. However, this guy explained yesterday that my email had gone into some bulk email folder on the dating site which he had not noted, and thus not checked, until a year and a half after I'd sent my reply.

I'm very impressed that he did get back to me. I will at least email him back. I'm in an open relationship so theoretically I could also set up a date with this guy. On the other hand I don't think that the Internet guy is the type to want to play the role of lover-on-the-side, and more importantly, I'm enjoying getting to know my man and don't feel like adding in anyone new at present time.

Trying to make an informed decision

So we have both an election in Ontario and a referendum tomorrow. The referendum is on whether or not we want to switch to MMP, which is mixed member proportional representation or something like that. I'm swamped at work and I'm trying to do my civic duty but honestly, I'm getting to the point where I just don't care. I'm reading the final report and recommendations and I can still see both sides.

There's all this discussion about our current system being flawed but isn't Ontario one of the most successful provinces in Canada? [I don't actually need an answer to that one. It is]. Why on earth are we starting with Ontario? Let's start with a province that doesn't seem to be as crucial to the economy. Also, I'd rather look at the federal system. Let's start with the next national election so that the whole country is on board or not.

Okay, this is the most inane blog post ever but I'm exhausted and I'm dealing with yet another yeast infection. I am happy to report that I found the secret holistic cure which is ingesting garlic capsules and acidophilus capsules, and inserting garlic cloves and acidophilus capsules directly at, er, the source. I don't know what is worse - the yeast infection or the election, but I do know that by tomorrow night they'll both be history.

We interrupt these postings

...for some sort of nervous breakdown.

Perhaps too much caffeine, but I'm nervous, have heart palpitations, am crying at the drop of a hat, and am emotional beyond belief. And I do not have PMS.

Right now the trauma has subsided to a headache and my body is shaking.

Weird. I certainly hope this passes soon enough.

PS Just to clarify - I'm not upset right now. I'm disturbed by my body's strange state of panic, but otherwise I feel fine.

Not a happy camper: Part II

I vaguely remember trying to burn down the tent [with him inside] but being unable to light the kerosene.

We had been in Scotland for a week staying with my aunts. Every time we spoke with my relatives they would look dumbfounded and ask, "You're going camping? Why don't you stay at a nice bed and breakfast?"

Why indeed.

Yet here we were in our rental car stopped at a seaside town on the west coast of Scotland. It was early May and it was cold. I already was being miserable and unadventurous (but from now on I'll paint myself as the suffering victim like I had no guilt in what transpired at all, okay?). There were two campsites in the town and we drove around each of them.

I have already admitted that I didn't take easily to camping to begin with, but I had grown to appreciate the beauty of sleeping in northern Ontario/Quebec when you have lots of space and are surrounded by forest. I still see the point to camping if it's to get away from everything and you are in wilderness that has no cabins. This was camping in a field where each tent was about one foot from the next. Basically this was camping that you did to save money instead of staying in a hotel.

This is the sort of camping that I see absolutely no point to. Not when we were two single people with enough disposable income to afford a bed and breakfast. Instead we were sleeping in a cold, wet tent for the sake of - well, I still have no idea.

I do remember crawling into my sleeping bag that night and putting on a hat and mitts. I also remember my boyfriend trying to undress me. This is what precipitated trying to burn down the tent. I remember thinking, "SEX? You want SEX? Are you out of your fucking mind?" First of all, I was too cold and too annoyed to even think of it. Secondly, we were one foot away from the next tent and I wasn't into putting on a show for everyone. And last but not least, I was completely uptight about the fact that we weren't able to wash the sleeping bags. There was no way I was having sex in one.

We got in the car very early the next morning and headed north.

Look who's back!

don't worry, the photo display ends at this point.

Gah

I'm so not prepared for this week-end. I had many plans, but none have come to fruition. This is what I get for going out drinking on a Wednesday. Especially when my friend and I had a great bartender who made our liquid cocaine shots in a martini shaker. I was so gone by that point that I kept telling my friend, "No, I think this is just a shot. It only looks bigger 'cause it's in a big glass"

Death on wheels

I'm learning to rollerblade. Apparently I so miss the pain and humiliation of snowboarding that I had to find a summer activity that would offer the same amount of torture.

I first tried to rollerblade home from work one day. I knew that I didn't want to be near traffic, so I walked down to the path by the lake. I put on the rollerblades and all my protective gear (conveniently already purchased for snowboarding). I had specially padded shorts, wrist guards, knee pads, and a helmet. After a few really sad attempts at getting moving, I was doing okay where the path was smooth and flat. I wasn't very steady on my feet, but I was managing to stay upright. The only problem was that I had no idea how to stop. My solution was to glide on both skates until I slowed way down. Not nice form, but it was working.

Then came the hill.

I had no idea that there was a hill between work and my area of town. I hadn't gone up a hill, so I guess that the centre of town is higher. Who the hell knows? All I know is that suddenly I was at the top of a cliff-like hill.* In addition to being faced with a hill, the path sometimes is near the lake, sometimes goes through a more park-like setting, and sometimes is right beside the road. This was a place where it was right beside the expressway, with not a fence in sight. Fences are nice because they are good for clinging to as a substitute for learning how to properly stop.

I knew there was no way that I would be able to get down that hill without serious injury. Somehow I managed to get to side of the path. I sat down and considered my options. Death by flying into traffic? Pain by falling on my face? Completely becoming a hazard to other rollerbladers and to cyclists by flailing around and being out of control? I just couldn't see any of those as viable options. Then I thought of those game shows where you get to call a friend for help.

I opted to call D. as unlike me, he is coordinated and knows how to rollerblade. His advice was very sound...for people who have any clue of how to rollerblade. I heard something about making turns to go down the hill in a controlled manner and then he added, "just like in snowboarding." For me, he may as well have said, "I recommend that you go down the hill by doing faceplant after faceplant". After all, that was my experience with snowboarding. I realized that no matter what legitimate advice he could give me, going down a hill on rollerblades would require skills I just didn't have.

I finished talking to him and reconsidered my options. I felt that the best course of action would be for me to take off my rollerblades and walk down the hill. The only problem was, I soon realized that I couldn't get them off. I didn't know how to release the bindings. It was at this point that I truly began to panic. I was trying to think of friends with cars who could come by and carry me over to their vehicle and drive me home. I envisioned myself having to inch my way down the hill on my butt. Luckily I eventually did get the skates off my feet.

At the foot of the hill I was so grateful to be back on flat ground. I put my rollerblades back on and felt like a pro gliding along the flat path. I was almost at the bridge that would take me to my area of town though and so my nice ride was short-lived. I changed [once again] into my running shoes and walked the rest of the way home.

From that time I've been getting gradually better, but I still have to stick to trails. My dream was to be confident enough on side streets to be able to roller blade to work.

Fast forward to this past week-end...

D. bravely offered to spend Sunday rollerblading with me. As we had practiced stopping one night, and I had managed to rollerblade from the safe trail up to my workplace (about 10 minutes on city streets), I decided to rollerblade to his place. Unbelievably I managed it. I even had to cross streetcar tracks near my house. In retrospect though, that was the easy part.

Then D. and I went down towards the lake. This meant that we had to negotiate Lakeshore Blvd., which is quite large. We were on old cracked sidewalks and leading towards a small section of the highway. I was so scared of not being able to stop and sliding into traffic. D. was trying to help me so he skated ahead, and then turned to face me to make sure I stopped in time. I tried to stop, but I was so panicked about the traffic that I discovered a new method of stopping quickly: let your legs go flying up and then crash straight down to the sidewalk on your butt. I also managed to land on my left hand. It didn't break because of my wonderful wrist guards, but oh man, from my fingers to my shoulder I was in pain. Oddly enough, my butt didn't hurt at all. Probably due to all the 'natural' padding I have there.

This was followed shortly after by complete drama of me lying on my side and screaming. Until I realized that I wasn't really hurt. I was very shaken up though. To his credit, D. didn't laugh at me. [I would have died laughing after seeing a friend fall like that - after ensuring that they weren't paralyzed].

It was hard to get back up and continue rollerblading after that, but gradually I got back into it. We went to the lakeside pavillion and had a beer, and then rollerbladed home. I even conquered the cliff-like hill. I fell one more time, but that was a relaxed fall where I fell forward and landed on my knee pads and wrist guards. Not a big deal. Apart from the fact that my left hand hurt for the rest of the week-end, it was a perfect day, and most importantly, starting tomorrow, I'm going to be able to rollerblade to work.

*I was describing the hill to a coworker and she asked how large it was. I admitted, "Well, when I say 'hill'..." She interrupted me and said that reality didn't matter - from now on the hill would be described as cliff-like.

Smile when you don't want to

Heading into a long week-end and all I want to do is crawl under my bed and cry. However, instead I will ignore all of my insecurities and go to a friend's bbq, check out the food at Caribana, and roller blade.

Paying back the fates for returning my cell phone to me

Today I was walking home from work and I was about 10 minutes from my house when a large gray cat started meowing loudly. It was moving slowly down the sidewalk. I shut off my music and said hi to it - as I naturally do with all cats. As I was on a main road lined with abandoned stores, I looked to see if I could see where it had come from. There was no obvious owner in sight, but as the cat looked a bit mangy but not in distress, I continued on my way.

Not a half minute later I saw a homemade sign taped to a light post. Even in the photocopied likeness the picture looked incredibly like the cat I had just passed. Which looked incredibly like the cat on the Simpsons (not Itchy and Scratchy, but their pet, and someone can clue me into the name because I can't be arsed to Google it). I scanned the sign quickly - lost, loud meow... That's what did it for me. The bit about the loud meow.

I turned back around and by this time the cat was lying on the sidewalk. I tore off one of the phone numbers on the sheet and ran back to the cat. I think that despite looking not too bad, it was overcome with the heat. I started petting it and calling its name. The whole time I was rummaging through my bag with my other hand, trying to locate my cell phone.

As I was waiting for the number to connect, a woman came out of the beauty salon in front of me. She told me that she thought the cat on the poster had already been found. She was holding another copy of the poster in her hand. At that point a man answered the number I had dialed. I started babbling.

"Yeah hi. Uh, did you find your missing cat? No? Oh well I think it's here. Yeah wait...[as I read the poster the woman handed to me]...green...and pink...collar...yeah...this is your cat. He's a little worse for wear but otherwise fine. So can you come here now? Should I pick him up? Will he bite? No wait - I'll stay here and watch your cat and you come here now."

I think the guy had managed to say about two sentences in amongst all of my chatter. He lived just around the corner. Me and the salon owner and another woman who lived nearby all stayed around the cat. I was still seated on the sidewalk petting it. A guy showed up quickly. Apparently the cat had been missing for two weeks. He scooped the cat into his arms and shortly after, the man's very pregnant wife headed down the sidewalk towards all of us. The man thought I'd found the cat at a bar. I explained that I had walked into their cat on the sidewalk. We surmised that someone had originally taken the cat as its id tag had been torn off.

I went on my way to the grocery store and left the cat lying in his human's arms.

It was kind of strange. We were all so low key. Believe me, if one of my cats went missing for two weeks I would be screaming with joy and hugging her none stop upon her return. This was all very casual, or maybe it was that in this heat none of us could process it all.

So here are my questions... I'm glad the guy was home, but if he hadn't been, what could I have done? I was going to pick up the cat and take it home with me, but that's always a risk of infection for my other cats. Also, carrying a strange cat in my arms by a busy street for over 10 minutes was not a process I was looking forward to. Still, the cat was apparently 20, so I wouldn't have left it outside. If it had been a dog and the owners hadn't been home, I don't know what I would have done. There's no way I would bring a stray dog into my home - I like dogs, but I'm scared of them.

Back online

I have been having Internet problems for several weeks now - more like a few months in total, but for the past two weeks it's been a constant nightmare. I would be connected for about a minute at a time, then my system would disconnect, then I'd have to wait about a minute before connecting again. The first time Rogers sent a technician, my system was in one of its miracle phases where nothing seemed wrong. The next week it all went to hell again.

I was supposed to have an appointment this past Saturday between 8am and 11am. I got up at 6:30am so that I could shower and clean up a bit. No one showed. I called Rogers and it turns out that the person who had taken my order had written down my phone number incorrectly. Initially I was furious. They couldn't send out anyone later in the day on Saturday, and that meant that the next appointment was Sunday afternoon. In other words, all my week-end plans were shot to hell.

I'll give them this though: Rogers did all they could to get me another appointment right away. I also realized that mistakes happen. The technical rep who had taken my order was a fantastic person who correctly diagnosed what was wrong with my system. Okay, it was annoying that he had written my phone number down wrong, but that's life. I know he didn't do it deliberately to fuck me over.

There is much that drives me nuts about Rogers (for one, their incredibly annoying voice prompt system), but once again, I'm going to praise online their technical service reps.

Help wanted

Got a spare internet moment? Would you like to help a lovely librarian (that would be me) ?

If so, please go to the web site www.annals.org and let me know if back issues of The Annals of Internal Medicine are available full text for free or not and if there is a hold back period (what this means is that articles are free, but only after a certain time period such as 6 months after publication). I'm not sure if my access is linked to our work IP address or not as we are subscribers. I need to know if my clients can access the articles from their computers or not.

Thanks!

Me me meme

Hotdudi tagged me to do the wikipedia birthday meme.

Here are the rules:
You go to Wikipedia, type in your birthday (month and day) & you list 3 events, 2 births, 1 holiday, and tag 5 friends.

Event #1: 1879 - The Tay Bridge Disaster: The central part of the Tay Rail Bridge in Dundee, Scotland collapses as a train passed over it, killing 75. - My grandparents lived near this bridge.

Event #2: 1912 - The first municipally owned streetcars take to the streets in San Francisco - I love me some streetcars

Event #3: 1981 - Pat Sajak starts hosting the daytime version of Wheel of Fortune - Well, I was addicted to that show back in the day

Shared birthday #1: 1763 - John Molson, English-born Canadian brewer (d. 1836) - I must drink more.

Shared birthday #2: 1842 - Calixa Lavallée, French-Canadian composer (O Canada) (d. 1891) - Thanks dude. I sang that song every day in grade school and stood for some horrific tinny muzak version of it every day in high school.

The Holiday: Yeah, none interested me, so I bring you instead what will now become my own personal tribute each year - I found out that Jerry Orbach, aka Lenny on Law & Order, died in 2004 on my birthday. I adored his character and it is because of Detective Briscoe that I was able to reunite the sculptors of my statue The Myth of Sisyphus with their lost dog. So from now on, I will have a drink for Jerry on my b-day. It will of course be a Molson's product.

Help

I want potato chips. Kettle Creek salt and pepper ones to be exact.

Or sex.

I don't see either craving being satisfied tonight.

Annoyingly chipper

I'm so happy. I don't even know why. Well, not entirely. But, I'm happy and I'm filing and listening to my iPod at work and line dancing to Achy Breaky Heart.

[yes, I can line dance]

And then the boys

Sunday was the big Pride Parade. I hadn't planned on going. As a matter of fact, I hadn't been planning on being anywhere near the area. At around noon though I called some friends to wish them a happy Pride and they reminded me of another friend's brunch I had planned to attend. I had completely forgotten about it too drunk at the time of the invite to have remembered but really wanted to go. Hence, I grabbed a cab and was at the brunch [which was fab-u-lous] a short time later.

A few sangrias in to it and I was off to view the parade with the two friends I had originally called. We stood right near the end of the parade route. There wasn't the same sense of festivity and community as near the end of the parade route, but we had great views and more importantly - shade.

The parade opening was the most powerful I've ever seen: they had people dressed completely in black with black hoods, each carrying a sign which listed a country where people can be executed for being gay. It was very powerful and brought home just how much work still needs to be done. Not that there isn't homophobia in Canada, but at least officially there are gay rights. Indeed the couple I attended with got married last October.

The rest of the parade was quite festive. As we were near the end of the route, the crowd wasn't as involved. My friends and I tried to make up for it. I screamed until I got light-headed and thought I was going to pass out.

There was only one group in the parade that I still don't get: people against Israeli apartheid. I'm not saying anything about the cause itself, but what the fuck does that have to do with gay pride? Is Palestine supportive of gay rights? I ask that in all seriousness. I thought it was the reverse so the presence of the group pissed me off. I mean, I'm pro-Cuba and the American blockade drives me mental, but I wouldn't bring that protest to this parade (especially because as far as I know Cuba doesn't officially recognize gay rights and I believe can jail people for being gay).

Apart from that though, it was another day of tons of sun and alcohol. My friends continued partying after, but I went home to crash. I did love the crush of people on Church Street though. I know that crowds are dangerous, but how delicious to be sandwiched between so many half-naked sweaty people in broad daylight, out for a good time.

Dead like me

I was having brunch with a friend a while back. We were both discussing guys we had been involved with. He asked me about one in particular. I explained that I hadn't heard from him in over a week. I told him what our last communication had been like.

He hardly paused in eating and said casually, in a way I swear that only guys can do, "Yeah, he's not interested in you."

I think my eyes went wide for a minute. Like I'd been slapped. After that though, I shrugged and agreed - "Yeah, you're right."

And that was it.

I think of this guy. I think of how the last time he pulled a disappearing act on me I lost my mind. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't sleep. I drove so many of my friends crazy with my analysis of every last word he'd said.

This time around I got to know him on a better level. I'm so happy that I took a chance on seeing him again. It was his house I passed in my twitchy hormonal state months ago. I followed up the stalking his house with a blunt email - which could have had such horrific results. I didn't hear from him until three days later. It turned out that he had been out of town but the second he read my email, he called. That started some hooking up, hanging out, and long pauses in communication over the next few months. Such long pauses in fact that I have to accept that we're never going to connect.

In some ways I'm glad not to have the over the top drama and tears of the last time he passed through my life. In other ways, I'm more frightened that I'm so resigned and almost accepting of his lack of enthusiasm for me. I'm frightened that it's getting harder to be enthusiastic about dating anymore.

However, this week-end is Pride week-end and I'm heading out with some friends starting with festivities tomorrow night. If that won't work to get me feeling flirtatious and fun again, nothing will.

Addendum of Thursday morning: I'm off to this show tonight. That will definitely be a good time.

Friday's addition: Of course he called after I had written him off. In retrospect, I don't think my ability to flirt is in question at all. I also am no longer worried about my enthusiasm. I feel strength in realizing that all I'm losing is enthusiasm for being someone's after thought. And I'm pretty fucking happy about that.

I rule the beach

I was having a wonderful dinner with my parents last night until I realized that they see me as a complete failure. However, I'm not through processing that little bit of news, so I am going to instead write about one area that I have completely conquered: the clothing optional beach.

When I last posted about the beach, I had managed to lie there naked for an hour. As that experience had gone well, I decided that I was going to return, and this time I was not only going to lie there, I was going to get up and walk to the edge of the water, and then return to my towel. I figured if I survived that that I would then make a third trip to the beach and invite a friend along.

Coincidentally, a few weeks after my initial visit, a friend was hosting a bbq in the park area of Hanlan's Point. I felt that that would be the perfect opportunity to try phase two of the clothing optional beach experience. After being at the bbq for a few hours, I announced that I was just going to go to the beach for a while. It was a great group of people so my excursion was no more alarming than if I had said, "I'm going to go and buy ice cream."

However, everyone was so relaxed that one of the guys said, "Oh yeah, I'll go too"

Internally all I thought was, "WHAT??? No-ooooo-oooo. Oh my god..."

Externally I found myself smiling and nodding like this was nothing to me and telling him "Oh yeah. That's great. Let's go."

When we reached the beach, we found a nice patch of sand and then I took my clothes off as quickly as humanly possible. I had a bunch of sarongs in my purse so I gave him one to sit on. At first it was a bit awkward as I was trying to avoid looking at him, but then I just relaxed and the two of us chatted about all sorts of topics - none of which had to do with sex or nudity. I also did get up and walk to the water's edge as that had been part of the original plan.

It's nice to be back to such a state of comfort with my body. As a teenager in the north I was used to being in various states of undress around friends [and not in a sexual sense]. We had so many lakes that invariably we would end up at someone's camp and have a late night sauna/skinny dip, or else on the way back from one bar we would have to cross a golf course and we'd strip down and go swimming at the lake there in order to cool off. In Toronto, there aren't these natural chances to be naked. After all, I was threatened with being charged when I just waded into the fountain at Nathan Philips square fully clothed.

Hmmm... writing this I'm reminded of how much I miss the north.

Last night I...

Attended my first burlesque show.

Had my first lap dance.

Met Katrocket.

Made out with a sexy man.

Hung out more with a new friend. I've known her for a while, but this is one of the first times we've hung out without other [fantastic] mutual friends.

Got a few pole swinging/dancing lessons from Sasha Van Bon Bon. Holy crap was she hot and boy could she work that pole.

London Underground song

Fukkit posted this on her blog. Now although I love transit workers and don't grudge them one cent of their salaries, it taps into every commuter's frustration over transit delays and has excessive use of the "c" word. What more could a song need?

In case it wasn't clear the first time

I applied for a job recently. A few weeks after a completely disastrous interview, I contacted the HR person who told me at that time that they were making a job offer to someone else. It always is disappointing to hear that, but that's life.

A few weeks later, I received an official rejection letter in the mail. Again, that was to be expected, but somewhat sucked. However, later that day I also received a phone message from one of my interviewers who asked me to call her. I must admit, I was kind of hoping that another job had opened up and that she was encouraging me to apply for that. I returned her call, but got voice mail. I explained that I had received the letter, thanked her again for the interview, and that she could reach me anytime.

She never called back.

I can only surmise that she wanted to make sure that I had received the letter. Good grief. I'm kind of scared to turn on the local news now. I think it's going to say, "And making headlines tonight, Company X did not want to hire this individual. If you see her, please make that clear to her". And then there would be a picture of me. Probably a high school yearbook photo because that could just add to the trauma.

Hotels rule, I drool

I spent most of last week in Ottawa at a conference. I heard the most interesting speakers - but the best part was being in a hotel. Oh how I love the purity of hotel rooms. So clean, so uncluttered... On Wednesday night I fell asleep at 8pm and didn't wake up until the next morning. Life is so much better when you aren't sleep deprived.

Good-bye crap week!

Sweet Mary mother of Christ I am glad this week is over. Bring on the week-end!

Go see the doctor

I was sitting in a bar with a coworker one evening and in between sips of my gin and tonic, I was pontificating about how if you have multiple lovers, you should really wait three days between each sexual encounter to ensure that you haven't picked up any sexually transmitted infections.

She took a sip of her gin and tonic, nodded, and then asked, "Three days? Is that the rule? I mean, I know it's three months for testing for HIV, but I don't know much about the other STIs."

It's true - we both work for an HIV organization and believe me, we understand HIV testing, waiting periods, transmission, symptoms, and treatment thoroughly. But when we get calls for other STIs, we do the professional thing and refer callers to the nearest sexual health clinic. Still, we try to have at least a functional knowledge of syphilis, herpes, chlamydia, etc. Hence, my pronouncement of the three day rule was more than just a tip for our own sexual experiences. She was interested in that "fact" from a professional perspective as well.

I must confess, I was a little thrown off when she asked about the source of my knowledge. I remember thinking, "Doesn't everyone know that?" And then I started to wonder why I was so adamant about the three day rule.

Was it in a public health pamphlet? Had we covered this in school? Why was my colleague unaware of this valuable insight? I was a few G&Ts in so trying to do factual recall was particularly arduous.

Then, somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear the words -

Three days later...
Woke up fussing, yelling and cussing
Drip drip dripping and puss puss pussing
I went to the bathroom and said "Mama mia!"
I'm a kill that girl next time I see her

... The poontang was dope and you know that I rocked her
but three days later go see the doctor

I looked at my friend and confessed to the source of my fact: "Um, Kool. Moe. Dee."

Yes, Kool Moe Dee's "Go see the doctor" [aka, my favourite rap song] was the apparent basis for my three day rule. We both burst out laughing.


[Thank goodness I never told a client about Kool Moe Dee's rule.]



Saturday 1am: I'm so tired. I know it's the week-end but I've been at a bbq all day and wanted to sleep. I just called the cops on my idiot neighbours who are having yet another party. Welcome to the neighbourhood boys!

Can't I just donate money?

I went to buy roller blades the other day. However, the only pairs that the store I was in carried had the breast cancer ribbon on them. It pissed me off and I walked out. I also never go into the Running Room because half of their clothing has the pink ribbon on it as well.

Not that breast cancer isn't a worthy cause. In fact, I donated a crap load of money to it this year in support of a friend who just went through breast cancer. But that's it - if I want to donate to a cause, I can find their web site. I do not need to have the cause perma-etched on my apparel.

[HIV is the cause that I always support and I don't buy Bono's project red items either.]

This ain't no Nickelback concert...

...this is Social D.

That was what Mike Ness told me. Or maybe he said it to the crowd. However, as I was the one crushed against the barriers right in front of him, indulge me and pretend that he was speaking to me.

I blame it all on Greg that I was even at a Social Distortion concert while I was in Vancouver. He had mentioned them on his blog and I had looked up their concert schedule. When I noted that they would be playing when I was in Vancouver with a dead evening ahead of me (no conference activity that night and no conference sessions first thing in the morning the next day), I got a ticket.

I didn't belong at a Social Distortion concert. I love their music, but let's just say that I don't quite fit in. There was a time when I would have, but that was years ago. Now I'm back to being somewhat of a social dork. At least I looked fine and blended in with the crowd [apart from being 10 years older than most of them].

I arrived just before ten. I got a beer and just sort of hovered near the back of the small gathering near the stage. The band playing was I Hate Kate and they were Great! Seriously. I enjoyed the songs I heard, and watching the guys play. One of their songs was called "I'm in love with a Sociopath" and it cracked me right up. Although my laughter was that sort where I also had that sick feeling of 'oh my god my ex could be singing this about me'.

Next up was [bah, I'm not naming them 'cause I'm about to be unflattering and I don't want them finding this]. What amused me to no end about their set was that a group of punks started slam dancing. It reminded me so much of the eighties. In fact, it reminded me of my very first concert after I had moved to Toronto - watching the Forgotten Rebels at the El Mocambo. I could not take the lead singer seriously. He was trying so hard to be tough yet sexy and I'm sure he has a following. It just wasn't me. At one point he loosened his belt, half dragged it out of his belt loops, and was holding it between his teeth. Oh dear lord in heaven - it looked ridiculous. He stood there like one of my cats with a mouse hanging down from her mouth. Not really doing anything, but just wanting someone to take note. That and the boy needs to start chugging Slimfast if he's going to wear low slung leopard pants and no shirt. Finally their set ended.

While waiting for Social D to come on, most of the crowd dispersed. I ended up standing right in front of centre stage, behind two guys who had staked out their spots from the beginning of the evening at the front. I remember thinking that I had lucked out and that I would enjoy the concert from this prime vantage point. Slowly people began to fill up in front of the stage. Still, I maintained my prime place and could peer between the arms of the two guys in front (their arms were braced against the security barriers). Then Mike Ness came on stage.

I did have a great spot. I could see him sweat. Hell, I was close enough that half the time Mike Ness moved his head I'm sure his sweat was landing on me. What I didn't factor in was just how crushed you get by being at the front. Within minutes I started getting pressed up against the guys in front of me. They would then push back, and I would be completely sandwiched between them and whatever guy was standing behind me. For a while it was kind of a turn-on being surrounded by such testosterone, but that didn't last long. Couple that in with the dozens of girls who were being passed over our heads and dumped behind the security barriers and my dream of 'enjoying' the concert from the front row evaporated quickly. It was pure survival.

Oddly enough, the words of a police officer who was leading a self-defense class I took fifteen years ago came back to me. Ladies, if you are attacked, try to get you and your attacker down on the ground. Women usually don't have good upper body strength but have powerful hips and thighs. Use that to your advantage. Obviously I wasn't going to lie down on the ground, but I did think that I would have more luck using my legs to support myself against that barrier than my arms. I rammed my right foot up against the security barrier and pushed the entire crowd back. With my ass. The two guys in front were impressed. My power hip move also kept a bit of a buffer for them from the rest of the crowd. And that's how I spent the next hour: hopping on one foot, the other foot braced against the security barrier, with my arms around both of the guys for support. I absolutely refused to have the guys behind me move me from my spot.

Eventually though I was no match for the crowd. I had to flag down security and get them to lift me over the barriers. By that point I had no strength left in either my arms or my legs so it was a very ungraceful ordeal of being half lifted by the guys next to me and half dragged by the security guard - and did I mention that I was wearing a skirt?

I was telling one of my coworkers that I had to be pulled over the barriers and he commented, "Oh well, at least you didn't cry." He looked at my shocked expression. "Oh my god - you cried! NO! You didn't..."

I started laughing. Of course I cried. I was so overwhelmed and in so much pain. I recovered quickly though. After a quick visit to the washroom to catch my breath and to fix the mascara that had run down my face, I went to the coat check and chatted with the girls there. They couldn't believe that I was leaving early. Admittedly I wanted to stay longer, but there was no way I was going to risk having to present the next day tired and hungover. I was going to say that that's how I know I'm getting old, but in fact I've always been responsible when it comes to work or school.

On my walk back to the hotel some homeless guy spat on my leg. I hadn't given him change, so I guess that was his protest. I didn't notice right away. It was only when the dampness seeped through my tights and I glanced down and noticed this thick wad of spit hovering near my ankle that I realized what had happened. I started rubbing my ankle against a tree frenetically in order to get the spit off.

Getting crushed and spat on aside, I'm so glad that I went to the concert and braved the front row.

too lazy to post

So read this hilarious account of jkg's first porno instead. I still can't quite picture fucking a tomato. I'll have to go out and rent some porn. The stuff I've viewed pales in comparison.

And speaking of porn - I was discussing with a coworker yesterday about the first Penthouse Forum Letters that I ever bought. You know, where every letter starts, "I can't believe this happened to me..." I remembered one about some guy who was on a roller coaster and he stated that just before the ride started he pulled his girlfriend in front of him, lowered her onto his dick, and rode her the whole time he was riding the roller coaster. Um, yes. I realize the letters are made up, but come on. Obviously the guy had never ridden a roller coaster (or a woman). Even on kiddie coasters you have safety bars. There's no moving a woman on top of you. Even the guy who was masturbating while reading a stack of porn when his hot next door neighbour stopped by and offered to help him get off was more believable.

In praise of all ESL teachers

NSFW

Haiku time

Blood drips down my legs
and I have no tampons left.
The drugstore beckons

Back to basics

I'm a brunette again. I'm so loving it.

I salute this woman

Normally I rant about what products and commericials I can't stand. However, this video with the flight attendant from hell going through nicotine withdrawal makes me wish I smoked just so that I could try Nicoderm. The fact that she's hot doesn't hurt this commercial either.