General Mayhem

I think the job is getting to me....

2009-02-11T21:36:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to wonder if my heterosexuality is becoming increasingly based on the knowledge that men:
1) Will generally not scream incessantly whilst in labor (I'm totally not discounting the need to scream, I just like that I will likely never listen to a guy doing this)
2) Don't have uteruses
3) Don't grow placentas
4) Usually don't even know what a placenta is
5) Also don't know what meconium is
6) Don't ask me what meconium is

I think I'm going to quit and join the fire department. I'm pretty sure my crippling fear of fire will make me extra good at the job.

Oh bloggity blog, how I love thee...

2009-01-29T22:54:00.000-08:00

Also, big shout out to Schmutzie (Whoot!), who let me know I am being featured on Five Star Fridays. Because I'm delightful.
There was an odd conflict of emotions; I was incredibly pleased (and a bit puzzled), until the panic set in.
"Oh crap. What exactly did I write about people?"
Then came rational brain to talk me off the ledge. (Oh, by the way, this was all within about a 30 second period, because I'm so in touch with my emotions. We're tight. They call me, let me know how they're doing, if we should be crying, stuff like that). Anyway, I realized that even if the people concerned were to read this, their grasp of technology is somewhat tenuous at best, so I really shouldn't be worried.

To explain, my people are generally not a technology "friendly" people. I don't have a cell phone because I fully believe it to be an intelligent being from another planet. Think how many homes they've infiltrated already. If I let a cell phone into my house, it will slowly turn all the other appliances against me, until I'm reenacting 2001: A Space Odyssey.
"Work, you god-forsaken machine! I want my coffee! I neeeeed my coffee!"
"I can't let you do that, Dave."
"AAaaarrrggghhh!!"

I still think fondly back to the day my father got a Blackberry. My phone rang, and I answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello? Hello? I don't know if it's working (said to someone else). Maybe if I (phone hangs up)."
5 minutes later.
Ring.
"Hello? Dad, is that you?"
"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello? (click)"
Repeat 30 times. It was hysterical.

When my uncle was learning how to use a laptop, the helper paperclip popped up and startled him so much he shuffleboarded the laptop clear across the room. It was okay, though, it was insured by his company. The first time.

Thankfully, books remain an accessible technology for us, so we've been able to remain fairly hip and with it, or whatever the kids are saying these days. Nifty keen. Neato. Delightful! Addendum!

Stealth Underpants!!!

2008-12-20T22:07:00.000-08:00

In my mind, there is no more joyous start to the holiday season than a good underwear fight with your room mate. Especially if your room mate is a very attractive woman (they have the best underwear).

2008-12-12T23:07:00.000-08:00

The cat's making eat-y lip-smacky noises.
It's really disgusting.

Breaking news on the health front...

2008-12-11T23:13:00.000-08:00

I think I have Seasonal Bipolar Disorder. Not Seasonal Affective Disorder (Because I'm a terrible person, I find this acronym strangely hilarious... Because there's no need to rub it in. You already feel bad enough, but to have to say, "I have SAD", like you're some depressed lolcat).
No, I'm sure I have Seasonal Bipolar Disorder, a previously unclassified disease (dibs mine mine I want the book deal I want it all!). It's an insidious disorder affecting billions this time of year (or maybe I just don't want to be the only one). Characteristics are as follows:
- Subject may have a tendency to burst into carolling at completely inappropriate times (i.e. job review. Or important business meeting. Hypothetically.)
- Within minutes, same subject may be found weeping hysterically at their computer, having just read a heartwrenching story about a Christmas kitten with no shiny bow around its neck and no home (oh God it's so saaaaaaadddd!!! BWAAAaaaAAAA........ sniff).
- Later that day, subject may be found rifling through fridge for the leftover desserts from the previous day's staff party, shovelling goodies into their mouth at an impressive rate. (To obesity, and beyond!).
- Subject will then feel fat. And rather ill (note: the human body is just not meant to consume that many nanaimo bars).
- Subject will then go to the computer again for a good cry, whereupon subject will realize that it is now 5:00 and subject can go home.
- Subject will go home and watch "Elf" starring Will Ferrell. Subject will start to feel optimistic about the holidays again.
- Subject will repeat this cycle the following day.

Help me. Please help me. I... I don't want to eat nanaimo bars anymore... I think I may want salad. But I don't know how.
Um... Also... if you want to give generously to help me end Seasonal Bipolar Disorder, that would be fine. I would be okay with that. I think the treatment centre is in Bermuda. It will be grueling and tough but I know with your donations and support I can beat this thing. Cheques are fine.

"When your only tool is a throat punch, all problems look like throats."

2008-11-25T21:09:00.000-08:00

My brother is a wise, wise man. I've been a bit easily frustrated lately, and perhaps my verbal descriptions of how I would solve certain connundrums (i.e. "He is such a tool. I just want to throat punch him until he begs for mercy." "What a crap thing to do! You should totally throat punch him." "Decaf?!? Ooooh, some lucky Starbucks employee is gonna get a throat punch.")
has taken a turn for the repetitive.
It's hard to say for sure, at this point in time.
I feel like there should be more to write, seeing as it has been a shockingly long while since my last post, but I guess this is what Vancouver does to people. You just... kind of... get really... really... relaxed about stuff. So perhaps just a point form summary will suffice.

October
- Toaster fire.
- New toaster.
- .... Um.... oh! Went back home for a visit! No throat punches.
- Found an antique store that is like stepping into one of Guillermo del Toro's movies. Words cannot describe. How utterly fantastic. It is.
- Dad in hospital. Fine now. If he was a horse we would have shot him.
- Work got better, then worse, then better again.
- Started volunteering with Special Olympics. (I really have to break the point form format for just a moment to talk about this. First, I feel absolutely privileged to work with such a wonderful group of individuals. I haven't laughed so much from sheer joy since I was a little girl. Also, I am now an assistant coach for rhythmic gymnastics. Anyone who has seen me effortlessly trip over my own feet and fall headfirst down the stairs will appreciate the irony of this.)
- The 900 year old cat I live with snores. Why can I never get away from the hairy snorers!?!

November
- Old microwave, or as I refer to it, "The Ovary Nuker 3000" finally dies.
- New microwave. Remaining ovary breathes a sigh of relief.
- Joined band. Am officially "cool".
- Found new meaning in work, and potentially a way to make a huge fantastically wonderful difference for many many people.... If I get the go-ahead on my top secret idea. Pending.
- Big brother visit!
- Found enlightenment.
- Lost enlightenment.
- Cleaned apartment. Still can't find enlightenment. May have recycled it. Damn.
- Cat still snores. Loudly.

Stay tuned!

You would be surprised at the looks you get...

2008-10-04T23:03:00.000-07:00

When you're buying a new toaster and a fire extinguisher. Yeah, like they've never had a toast fire.

It's not that nothing has happened....

2008-09-23T23:25:00.000-07:00

It's just that at the end of it all, I'm pretty sure the mundane routine of my day-to-day for the last month or so wouldn't thrill anyone. What I had for supper isn't really important. So, this is just me, checking in, letting you know that the rabid zombie-vampire-werewolf-drug-addicted-East-End-crack-whoring-homeless-indigent...
Didn't stab me in the neck.

Yet.

Honey Mustard and Crack

2008-08-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

Neal Brothers makes the most delicious and addictive pretzels on the planet. I swear, I used to be a normal person! I get home from work. I go to the store. I buy some pretzels. I open a bag... And next thing you know I'm out on the streets, desperately licking my honey-mustard powder coated fingers while searching for my next hit of delicious pretzel.
I feel soooooo ill right now. I think I'm coming down from my pretzel high.

Vancouver: A city of contradictions.

2008-08-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I saw a kid with dreadlocks in hemp clothing skateboarding down the street clutching a giant Starbucks.

I have sand in my underwear.

2008-07-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

Yup. That kind of summarizes life in Vancouver. Except in addition to underwear ("Under where?!?" "Ah ha ha ha.... Seriously. You're going in a home now."), there is sand in one's shoes, socks, eyes, teeth ("Take that, Dr. Doom!" That's what I call my dentist), toes, ears, belly button... er... other places... Places where no one should have sand...
I took my iPod for a swim in the Pacific yesterday. It was dumb. I know this. But I went for a really long run, and I hit the ocean, and it was quite warm, and I was quite sweaty, and the ocean looked so inviting....
So I carefully removed my shirt (you can stop screaming, Mom, I had a jog bra on), shoes, socks, sunglasses, and without further ado, went plunging into the ocean, up to my waist.
It was cool. It was refreshing. It was about this time I realized I was still wearing my iPod. I feel it's important to point out that this isn't just any iPod. This iPod, my brother, who is the best brother in the world (the world! Sorry, kidney-donating guy, competition is now closed) bought for me. He had it engraved for me. This puts it squarely into the category of "Things I will save in the event of a fire". Hell, most of my ex-boyfriends aren't in that category. Some of them are definitely not (cut to scene of me cheerily roasting marshmallows... You know who you are). So I staged a one woman homage to that scene in Jaws where everyone is running out of the water in a panic, while the perfect, beautiful (did I mention EVERYONE in Vancouver is like, a model or something? It's ri-damn-diculous!) people languidly observed me. Because they were high.
It turns out that, as I suspected all along, God loves me the most. And my iPod. And probably how it symbolizes love and friendship between siblings and blah blah blah who cares... Anyway, the iPod emerged from the briny depths of the Pacific completely unscathed (no one from the Vatican needs to know that it was in its little protective plastic case, okay?)! Isn't it a miracle? Isn't that kind of up there with the fishes and loaves thing? By the way, fun fact about B.C.... While it is legal to be topless here, the people who exercise this right usually aren't the ones you're hoping for. I mean, I am constantly walking by men with biceps bigger than my head, the sleeves of their massively overstretched shirts making little ripping noises with every ripple of their taut, flawless muscle, and do they even once think about how I would like them to be shirtless? What is the point of working out to look like that if you're just going to cover up? Honestly... Who knew massively ripped buff men were such prudes?

Good news!

2008-06-13T21:56:00.001-07:00

I got the job... I got the job... I got the job!
"Iggins!" (I actually shrieked this the minute I put down the phone. Single nerds the world over, rejoice, for I am back, and I'm nerdier than ever).
Anyway, I have accepted a lovely position at a beautiful hospital with great power and great responsibilities! Also, I am officially moved in to my new apartment in Kitsilano, a neighbourhood within Greater Vancouver which is apparently entirely comprised of delicious food, trendy consignment and antique shops, adorable dogs, attractive men, more delicious food, and oh yes....
I'm four blocks from the ocean.
My only regret is that I didn't do this sooner.
I'll post some photos of paradise as soon as I figure out where I packed my camera cables.
P.S. Mom, I love you and I miss you much. Talk to you soon.

Rhino attacks, and newly discovered tribes....

2008-05-29T21:23:00.000-07:00

This... and this... are amazing. I go absolutely giddy whenever I learn about the discovery of a new species, or a sunken treasure, or a hidden tribe. I remember a few years back, there was a story about a secret workshop of Leonardo da Vinci. I still visibly drool when I read about it. It's so fantastic that there are still so many things in this world that are still a secret.

In other news: 1) I have too much stuff. 2) Packing is not as fun and easy as Martha Stewart portrays. 3) I had a lovely time visiting with awesome friends yesterday (Thanks for breakfast AND dinner, Mr. Kovbasa!) 4) I may have "big exciting news" but I don't want to jinx anything yet. 5) I have pretty much given up on the idea that I will be able to pack everything before I leave. I'm just going to have to come back to Calgary to visit a lot! (Mwa ha ha. And you thought you'd seen the last of me.) 6) Way, way too much stuff. Does anybody want a breadmaker? Barely used...

This is kind of embarrassing.

2008-05-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

I can't do unemployment. One entire day of officially not having to work, and I almost went insane.
I accidentally broke a teapot.
Which was good, because the resulting explosion of glass shards gave me something to do for the next three hours... Wash floor, vacuum floor, vacuum carpet near floor, step on glass chunks, pull glass chunks out of feet, go to store and buy new teapot. Also Band-aids.
I was feeling sorry for myself, so I bought two new CDs... Robert Johnson, and Blind Willie McTell. Listening to the blues made me feel much better about my own troubles.
("I got them, low-down, broken teapot bluess...... I gots the blueeeeeeesss sooooooo baddddd.... Sorta wish I was deaaaaaaddd............................ Or maybe....... I'm just gonna go shoppinggg...... insteaddddd!" doesn't quite project the same sense of trouble in a troubled world that the aforementioned artists did.)
And I packed most of my books up for the locker, in case this is all a bust and I need to return to the sunny shores of... um... Calgary.
After a few more hours of the crazy, I decided that going in to work tomorrow is a good idea, if only to lull the new teapot into a false sense of security.

I think it could be considered ironic...

2008-05-08T20:11:00.000-07:00

When it's pouring rain in Calgary and sunny in Vancouver.... Mom (camera shifts to me doing the "Told ya so" dance, extended version complete with shimmies and jazz hands).
Hey, whatever. I'm just glad it's not the 25 cm of snow we were threatened with earlier in the day. (When I check The Weather Network these days, Carmina Burana echoes through my head... "O Fortuna...").
When I got home today, I had the urge for sweet potatoes for dinner. Delicious and extremely healthy (especially when drizzled with butter and honey and sprinkled with cinnamon. I need to believe this). Unfortunately, the vegetable peeler had other plans. About twenty minutes in, Mr. Tall was drawn to the warm glow of the kitchen. It was probably a metaphorical glow from all the "bright" language spewing forth from my mouth.
"Holy S$%!" Mr. Tall exclaims. "Don't peel towards yourself!"
"But it's... (grumble) the only... (thump) way this g#$$%##$%..... (Thump. Crash. Glass shattering.) Aw, @#$% it, I didn't want sweet potatoes anyway."
So popcorn was good too.
And healthy.
Especially the white cheddar flavor.

Remember to stretch.

2008-04-28T22:44:00.001-07:00

Of course, there can be such a thing as too many lunges...
My bum muscles hurt.

But you never really know what they'll ask of you in an interview.
It's important to be prepared.

On The Road Again... (for the first time)

2008-04-25T22:46:00.000-07:00

I have an apartment in another city. I have two job interviews. I have 3 people offering really fantastic connections for other work opportunities. I am flying out next week to interview. If only I could pack my family and friends and assorted pets into my suitcase and carry-on, I'd be set for my new life. I'm a bit nervous.

"The Road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

I did it all for the cookie.

2008-04-19T00:13:00.001-07:00

I donated blood for the first time today! Did you know....
I got a sticker?
And a pin?
And juice?
And cookies?
Try to curb your jealousy. I did, however make out like a bandit today. And all they received in return was my blood, which I don't really think I was making the best use of anyway. It was probably quite bored, making the same rounds, day in and day out. Now it has a chance to travel. See the world. Live a little. I'm happy for it.

The only part that gave me any pause was when the enormous needle came out. It was quite daunting. The last time I saw a needle that gauge was when I was taking a blood sample from a cow during one of my veterinary classes. Anyway, it was over quite quickly, and as I mentioned, I received a cookie that was quite delicious. I believe I will be a return customer.

My List of Fun Things To Do

2008-04-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

1. Bounce on the bed.
2. ....Um...
3. Still bouncing.
4. WHEEEE!!!!!
5. Just..(pant)... taking..(pant)... a breather...
6. Boing-dee boing-dee boing-dee boing-dee!
7. Answer the door.
8. Explain to your downstairs neighbours that your terminally ill friend is trying desperately to recapture some fleeting sense of his childhood innocence before he dies, and how dare they try and interfere with that. Yes, you accept their apology. Yes, cookies might help.
9. Resume bouncing and wait for neighbour cookies.
10. Mmmm. Cookies.
11. Another productive day!

The search proceeds most efficaciously.

2008-04-01T22:00:00.000-07:00

"Welcome to the voyage of the Work Trek Erin-prise. My four week mission, to seek out new employment, and new PFO letters. To boldly state, that no one has worked as hard as me before!"

There is a point, in the quest for new employment, at which you start to feel a bit dirty, a bit... insincere. It isn't that I don't genuinely want to work for any of the companies I've applied to. I do. But it becomes a bit grating to churn out cover letter after cover letter which essentially translates to:

"Hello,
Please look at my CV. I am great. Your company is great. I really like your tie, by the way. The colour really brings out your eyes. Also, I am really great. And so is your company. Let's get great and great together, shall we? Together, if you make the great decision to not turn this cover letter and accompanying resume into delightful paper airplanes (excellent job with the creases, by the way... really sharp!), then your great company, with me as one of its many great employees, will embark on the path of ever-increasing greatness together! By the way, have you been working out? You look.... great.
Sincerely,
Me."

I've also started to have moments of random self-destruction, wherein I will re-examine one of the cover letters I have already sent into cyberspace (the unforgiving virtual pneumatic tube), and find some sort of very benign, minor error (i.e. one paragraph is one space further ahead than the next), and berate myself for it until about 2 in the morning.
"How could you have made that error? What are you, some sort of spacebar show-off? Couldn't leave spaces for anybody else, could you? Noooooo... You had to get all fancy with the indents! God, you make me sick!"

Also, I have this epic sinus infection that makes the creature from Alien look incredibly attractive by comparison. Seriously. There is a bard outside my window right now, composing stanzas about my heroic battle with sinusitis.

However, things are looking up as of today, because the doctor gave me these antibiotics that are apparently so effective, they will kill all living organisms within a ten kilometre radius if you even open the pill bottle. Strangely, though, they were very strict about not taking any vitamins whilst taking said "Death Pill (like the Death Star, only easier to swallow)". I guess they don't want to provide any false hope to any lingering surviving cells.
Liver cell: "Cough...wheeze... so... cold... so... Hey, is that Vitamin C?"
Stomach cell: "No! No! It's mine! Mwa ha ha ha!"
Cancer cell: "Hey guys, what's up? I just moved in!"
Liver and stomach cell: "Oh crap."

Had my teeth fixed....

2008-03-27T22:05:00.001-07:00

Now I'm even hotter than before. If that's possible. Which I don't think it is.
That would be a terrible country-western song.
I got steam-rolled by several things lately. No..... I'm not gonna talk about them. Except for one thing, which is really starting to irk me. Where is the justice in me, Ms. "Purell", Ms. Washes Her Hands After Touching the Railings or even just an Outside Door getting the flu AGAIN!?!
Come on! Fortunately, this was not the vomity flu. This was simply... er... mucus-y and fever-y and stuff. I know. Hot. Try to resist my charms!
The plans to relocate to more humid climes (Vancouver) are proceeding nicely. I have sent out several job applications. I have not heard back from any of them. I tell myself, "It's them. It's not you... You're fabulous. They suck. You probably didn't want to work for them anyway." I also tell myself, "There are 5 bakeries on the street you will be living on. Isn't it time you gave up pandering to the patriarchal oppressive dictatorship that insists you be a certain size... and weight... They have cookies...And oh my God, are those cinnamon buns?"
I see now that I will have to become fat and sassy in order to maintain my feminist ideals. I'm cool with it. I really hated jogging anyway.

Success!

2008-03-05T21:24:00.000-08:00

Well, no, technically it's failure. But it's still success to me! I received my first official rejection letter for writing! From the Economist magazine!
I'm so hardcore. I think I have to go smoke a cigar or something.... And preen... Just smoke, and preen, and bask in my own brazilliance...

ATTENTION!

2008-02-25T20:31:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the wonderful and all-knowing awesome that is Kovbasa (seriously, dude, thank you!) I now have a kitchen sink WITH LASERS!
That is all. You may now continue with your menial, laser-less lives.
P.S. LASERS! WHOOOT!

For the record...

2008-02-11T22:16:00.000-08:00

...I am still bad, like Leroy Brown. But my brother (who is wonderful) showed me this site, and I strongly encourage you to peruse its vasty intrigues. And maybe, if you would like, you can go to the letter section, and print off a letter, and send it to that devastatingly handsome leader of our nation... The one, the only, Mr. Stephen "Good God, I'm sexy" Harper. Our prime minister, and babe magnate. Making a little lipstick kiss on the letter is optional, but I find it adds that personal touch.

I used to be a better person.

2008-02-08T23:05:00.000-08:00

I'm fairly certain I used to be a much nicer, or at least, less cynical person. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Literally.
Example the first: I absolutely hated the movie "Knocked Up". Hate doesn't even begin to describe it. Loathing. Loathing is better. It implies some sort of retching action when the title is spoken. Rolling Stone loved it. A lot of people did. If you're one of those people, please, don't try to explain the movie's subtle comic genius to me. I'm not judging you, or your taste in film (Yes, I am. I really am). It was utter crap. I actually felt physically nauseous while watching. I get the premise of the movie, I truly do. It's just that if I had directed it, it would have been about 20 minutes long, and Katherine Heigl's character would have had a long and fulfilling life sans accidental conception. For me, the peak comedic moment of the movie was the look on my mother's face when I started screaming at the screen, "No, Katherine Heigl! You have options! This isn't the 1800s!" Hell, even in the 1800s, there were better options than the idiot man-child she tries to have a relationship with.
Example the second: It's flu and cold season. I understand everybody is getting ill at this time of year. I, for example, have had norovirus, and one bout of the flu this winter. There is no better weight-loss plan. I'm planning on licking the railings before bathing suit season, just to get rid of those last few stubborn pounds. But I digress.
Here's the key: I stayed home from work whilst battling my illnesses. I did not:
1) come to work, and
2) not do my job, and
3) bitch about how terrible I was feeling to anyone foolish enough to wander near, and
4) (here's the best part) I didn't spread filthy germs everywhere by coughing without covering my mouth, and I didn't make everybody around me want to strangle me because of my persistent, seal (the playful aquatic mammal, not the singer married to Heidi Klum) noises every 10 seconds!
5) I also didn't leave the work bathroom in a "Biohazard - Level 4" state.
6) I swear. That was the other guy. Honest.
Example the third: I am hoping that this was just a temporary psychotic break induced by the wildly variable temperature fluctuations experienced in this region (0 degrees, minus 40 degrees, 0 degrees; Chinook and repeat). But when it's cold, and people seem to take forever behind my car, so I can't pull out of the parking lot and go home... I just want to ram them. And blame it on the road conditions. Is that wrong? I mean, is it very, very wrong, or just a little wrong?

And then, she decided to bake....

2008-01-29T22:48:00.000-08:00

I really don't know what came over me. Watching too many classic 1950s horror movies, perhaps. With the women, in their cute aprons and overly did hair... And their knives...

Regardless of the reasons, I decided that 11:00 pm was a great time to "whip up a batch of muffins". Something "healthy". Something "delicious". Something that would get rid of all the leftover crap that's about to go bad anyway.
Didn't have any white flour. "Not a problem!" The self-proclaimed master baker chirps optimistically. "'Cause we got brown flour." "Who says we can't do this? Nobody, that's who!" I added equal amounts of brown flour. (MASTER BAKER TIP #1: NEVER EVER EVER ADD EQUAL AMOUNTS OF BROWN FLOUR TO SUBSTITUTE FOR WHITE FLOUR).
"Wow... heh heh... That's looking... a little dry... Oh well, I'll just add more orange juice."
(We're out of orange juice) "Hey, look at that! We're out of orange juice! But we have a lemon and some Orangina... I wonder...." (MASTER BAKER TIP #2: NEVER EVER EVER FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SUBSTITUTE AN OLD LEMON AND FLAT ORANGINA WHEN THE RECIPE CALLS FOR ORANGE JUICE).
"Frozen cranberries? Well, I don't have those. Darn. Oh, but I do have... Frozen blueberries from 2006! They're frozen though, so I'm sure they'll be okay." (At this point the back of my brain, the lucid part that often watches the dominant part in horror and disbelief, is screaming about the various power outages we've experienced since that time. I ignore this. For science. And baked goods.) (MASTER BAKER TIP #3: IF IT EXPIRED MORE THAN 2 YEARS AGO, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY TOSS IT OUT. SERIOUSLY.)
Anyway, you get the idea. The situation kept escalating until baking these friggin' muffins was like Iraq and I was like Dubya going, "What the hell happened? Better pin this on somebody..."
I mean, it's after midnight now, the frigging loaf (because it turns out we don't have a muffin tin) has been in the oven for half an hour, and it's not frigging cooking! I've got flour EVERYWHERE (Like, everywhere. Serious.), I've got dried egg goo on my face, the kitchen floor is totally slippery from all the frigging oil that's all over it... There's not any oil in the recipe!!! What the hell did I even have it out for? And for what? For what?
So I wouldn't have to buy a muffin from the hospital cafeteria for breakfast.
Sniff.
So it was worth it. Oh hell, is that smoke?
I gots to go.

Hay Mucho Frio!!!!

2008-01-29T19:22:00.000-08:00

No me gusta! Detesto! Vamos a Mexico! Andele!
It's bloody cold here (Calgary) right now. How cold is it? I am not lying with the following information. It's so cold I was walking to the bus stop this morning and there was a magpie. With its eyes frozen. Seriously. It was all "drunk" hoppy and its eyes were all white around the edges with ice. I felt so bad for the poor little bugger... What do you do, though? It kind of... flew-ish away... Lopsidedly.
I'm decided to be positive, and think that it has a little magpie wife who has the number of magpie rehabilitation... With, like, seeing-eye sparrows or something.
I hope it warms up soon.

Not much to say... But I like shiny new postings.

2008-01-24T21:17:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite classical piece at the moment... I have the sheet music and am learning it (slowly) on my sheety (ha!) keyboard....

Check this out...

2008-01-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

This is amazing... There aren't really words to convey it.

The resolution will be televised...

2008-01-10T21:05:00.000-08:00

My god, sometimes I'm so clever I can barely stand it!
Another brand new start to a brand spanking new year (200...8. Yeah.) One of my resolutions is to be more positive and happy and stuff. That's right, ladies and gentlefolk, it's going to be nothing but unicorn giggles and rainbow poop from now on! Leastways I think that's the expression...
Let the good times commence!....owl hoots... crickets... a lone siren in the distance (No. Really. I DO live right by a hospital, people)...more owl hoots.... Any minute now...
On a completely mostly unrelated note, I have noticed that prolonged lodging near a hospital and a busy road, with its associated helicopters, loud cars, sirens, screaming people (thank you, Stampede idiots, for continually propogating the stereotype), has rendered me deaf and blind to some pretty important "warning signals". Like, when there's an ambulance behind me, I sometimes don't really notice (...or I pretend not to. "Oh well, I guess you should have thought twice about eating that Big Mac, Mr. I'm Having a Coronary Get Out of My Way, huh? God. Some people.") Even the flashing lights don't really spark a message in my brain... But I guess that's the price you pay for strobe lights 24-7 in your boudoir (kidding... Mom...)
On another almost completely unrelated note, there is this scene in "Gray's Anatomy" from last season(?) where a guy hooked up to an oxygen tank decides that it's the perfect time to indulge, relax, and light up a cigarette. Hilarity ensues. I mean massive trauma and explosions. Not hilarity.
Guess what I saw an old guy in the front of the hospital ALMOST do today? Twice! Guess? According to my friend, my expression was "priceless". And to think I was getting out of my chair to pull a, "No! Mr. President!" and pull her out of the way of flying glass and exploded Smoker with Emphysema and COPD Chunks (TM)! And then, 15 minutes later? He was out there again! It was like an addiction or something.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

2008-01-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER: Anybody who's into fuzzy kittens and rainbows and other shit like that may want to scroll down to the bottom of this post, because there be some serious rantings goin' on. Yar.

The bad and the ugly...

Okay, so late 2007 was a partial annus horribilus, as the Queen might say. Especially December. December was like an entire month of God, or Buddha, or Ganesh, or whatever form the supreme almighty power is currently taking, taking shot after shot at my metaphorical garbage.

So I get the flu/GI disease of lepers that is going around the hospital.
Fine. I can deal with that.

So I've lost so much weight so my stupid clothes aren't fitting all nice like they did before I heaved my cookies for almost a week.
Fine. I can deal. Christmas is the time of cookies.

So work is suddenly, finally busy. TOO BUSY. Wow. It's like, "Hi, work?" "Yes, Erin?" "I know I said I was a little bored, but this? This is inhuman. Can you do something about this?" "I can't do that, Erin." But still. I endure, because I am grown-uppy and stuff. So I have a very important presentation to give on the week I am still sick, and therefore have to I drag my vomity ass into work even though I can barely keep water down, and Rolaids are my entire source of sustenance.
FINE! I'm dealing, 2007, you bitchy cow! I hope you trip over your giant intergalactic space cat in the middle of the night and bonk your stupid head, 2007!

But when you have somebody, a goddamned useless pathetic excuse for a paternal somebody, call me up AT WORK, one hour (ONE HOUR) before I give that presentation, to tell me, "Thundercat is expecting..." Me: "What? Her Botoxed features to show some semblance of emotion? Her overly arched eyebrows to grow back? That you'll lose thirty pounds and twenty years? What is she expecting... Oh. Oh. My. God."
2007, I... I hate you. I hate you soooooo much.

So after this, I stopped sleeping for a while. Then, I broke the front of my car, and on Boxing day, two family members walked out forever. Er, two family members we liked. Not the other two. That would have been awesome.
So 2007? Bite me.

Conclusions: I'm moving to Vancouver. And changing my last name. And possibly my vocation. And definitely my phone number (for some people. They know who they are, the Botoxed, fat-headed, stupid, insipid bastards).

AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING...
I'm doing better now. So now that that is out of my system, I am endeavoring never to speak of the badness that was (December) 2007 again. Unless it's in an Oscars acceptance speech. And onto the good things, the things that made 2007 worth it!

The good...
- Friends and family. Er... selected family.
- I met and got better acquainted with some wonderfully fantastic people. Whom I love and adore.
- I reconnected with some individuals that I thought were lost to me.
- I have an interesting job that is a good base for a future career.
- I baked a cake that didn't catch on fire. It was carrot! And delicious!
- I got to see the hotness that is Rob in his Newsies outfit. And also the black leather one. And also the white wifebeater. And .... Okay, he's just really really ridiculously good-looking.
- I learned never to trust a verbal contract.
- I learned to sculpt. Better.
- Pirates of the Caribbean 3. Vancouver is a port city, after all. I'll find me a pirate. Or barter passage and live by my wits on the high seas! Arrrr!
- My mum and my brother are about as fantastic as you can ever hope to have. And her dog is pretty darn cool too.
- My newest tattoo.
- Charlie Cox in Stardust. Wow... Just... wow. I'm smiling just thinking about him.
- Too many other things to mention.

To my friends and family, thank you for making my life so much richer. 2008 is going to be amazing. All my love to all of you (and appreciative whistles to Rob, the pirate king).

Baaaaarrffffff...

2007-12-06T18:19:00.000-08:00

Barf...
Is pretty much all I did for the last three days. I had some wicked, brutal, amazing technicolour food poisoning from Tuesday morning until today. My lovely wonderful mother took care of me, debated whether we should go to emergency after day two of not being able to keep water down, tucked me in, gave me ice cubes, and was generally an absolute blessing. Thanks so much, Mom, if you're reading this. Also, I'm really sorry about your bathroom. And the bath mat. And the bedspread. And the sheets. And the bed. And the area leading to the bed. And your dog.
(For the record, she did describe me as "The Exorcist" to my aunt on the phone).
And I thought this was the worst thing that could happen this week.

Aaaaand... the heating is busted.

2007-12-01T20:12:00.000-08:00

It's bloody freezing in our apartment. The thermostat is cranked to 30, but I promise you, it is definitely not. The only reason I can feel my fingers is the copious amounts of wine I have drunk this evening, whilst watching "Serenity". Such a great movie, laughed my butt off at the outtakes. Or I would have if I still had a butt... I went climbing with mon frere extraordinaire today for about 3 hours and while it was fantastic, I am in an significant amount of pain right now. Bne was very philisophical about the thermostat breaking on one of the coldest days so far this year...
"So your plumbing finally got fixed and hell froze over."
Damn it. So succinct. So... funny.
We call the landlord tomorrow. I will be taking bets as to how long it will take to get this latest problem fixed. Last time was 5 months. This time? I'm really hoping for one month, as it is supposed to be fairly cold this winter.
In other news, this week was quite interesting, with both highlights and lowlights. Working at a cancer centre can be a bit hard on your emotions. Last night, mon frere told a very funny joke in the elevator as we were headed up to the apartment, and I started laughing very, very hard... And then, just like that, it switched to big soggy cryings, which is a very strange experience. He is a big sweetie. I won't say too much because I don't want to embarrass the big lug, but whoever ends up with him will be a very lucky person indeed.
On a high note, the firefighters from the Hot Stuff calendar were at the hospital on Thursday, signing the calendar. And I'm going to say this right now: Ladies (and gentlemen, if your tastes are so inclined), buy this calendar. It is for a wonderful cause (100% of proceeds go to the Foothills Burn Unit), and also? These guys were absolutely lovely. They were friendly, polite, kind and generous. They were there to raise money for their fund, and they ended up buying tickets from me for the charity raffle our unit is holding for our cancer family (BTW if you want tix, call me... It's 3 for $5 and the first prize is a signed Calgary Flames jersey). Because of them, I raised about 40 dollars in one hour. So yes. Please support them. Also, it really didn't hurt that they are quite easy on the eyes. And now? I go to sleep with mittens on. Sometimes I really hate my apartment...

Current Status: I.M. Awesome

2007-11-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

First of all, a big shout out to all my homies... You know who you is, you fabulous peeps who showered me with good wishes, and cards, and filthy, profane, vulgar and epithet-laced phone messages (Not mentioning any names, SNOOOOZIEE!!! And my Aunt. One right after the other. I haven't laughed so hard since the Big Train "Working Class" sketch). You are all wonderful, and made me feel very special, and warm, and fuzzy, like a kitten fresh out of the dryer.
So, exciting things that have happened. I am now a whole year older. The plumbing in the apartment has finally been fixed (BOOO YAAAAH!!!!! Only 5 months, baby! YEAH!). I was considering checking a date site for a plumber in a casual dating kind of mood.
Casual date plumber (CDP): "Well, it's been nice but I should get home now."
Me: (slowly leaning over, casually taking handcuffs out of my back pocket): "Don't you want to come up?"
CDP: (starting to look slightly panicked) "Nooo.... no. I uh... I'm good, thanks. I think I should, er... just go."
Me: "Oh dear." (looking disappointed, pouting a bit in an attempt to lure said CDP closer) "Well... It was a nice evening." (Holds out hand for hand shake)
CDP leans in for the handshake, and I spring into action. The handcuffs are on, the bear spray comes out, and he is incapacitated. By a girl. Hee hee. He shall not be freed until every source of water in the apartment is repaired.
I guess it's fortunate that this did not have to happen, considering the tough time that Boy George is having with the whole "false imprisonment". Ahem.

Super-mega-wicked-awesome-cool

2007-11-22T19:25:00.000-08:00

Re: This.
Some days I loves YouTube much more than other days. Guess which day this is?
Also, there were delicious sandwiches for scavengery at work today. I had about 4 and I feel very sick. Also full. Mostly sick though. So, all in all, it was quite a good day. I wish all days were like today, which I shall now refer to as vintage James Brown and free sandwich day.
Also, the plumbing in our apartment has been fixed. It only took 5 months. (This is me being proactive, people). I consider myself a fairly articulate person, but I don't think I can possibly find the words to express my joy and relief at not hearing, "drip...drip...drip...drip" coming from every source of water in the apartment.
Finally, after 5 years of living in the same apartment (excluding a brief hiatus to Edmonton, or The Stabby Valley, as I have lovingly come to refer to it), I have curtains. Thought I'd hate them. They actually do kinda bring the room together. And also my pervy neighbours can't see me parading around in my underroos anymore. I think....
This has officially been the best week I've had in ages. I think I shall eat candy in celebration.
(Ohhh yeah, best best best part? Had my physical, and the doctor's like, "Wow, you don't weigh very much, do you?" Which I take to mean, "Wow, you should eat more candy, eh?") What can I say? It's doctor's orders.

The Bucket List

2007-11-16T19:19:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all, this had me bawling like a little child within seconds. I should have prefaced that by mentioning that it has also been a very long, very difficult week at the cancer centre. Although it may also be my unabashed love for Morgan Freeman. I could listen to that man read a phone book for hours and remain enthralled. ("Get to the Bs, Mr. Freeman! The Bs! Yes, just like that!") That said, it looks like a lovely movie, and I love the philosophy behind it. Go watch the preview, if you want, but be strong, and remember, I warned you. Or maybe you're not a giant suck monkey like me.

The Swingline Revolution will be... postponed for a meeting, m'kay?

2007-09-19T20:16:00.001-07:00

Grr bark bark. Bark grr grr.
Work is so, so unbearably stupidly freakishly busy right now, I can't even explain it without sounding crazy. I'm going to try, though.
"Blao ghee segerrrfff lousulil *drool* *slobber* REB approval skadibiddy! SKADIBIDDY DOOOOOO!"
I feel better now. (voice from other room: "Good, good. Feel the hate flow through you." Me: "Jesus?")
In conclusion, I offer you some random phrases that have occurred in the last week. Mostly these were me. Explanations, if required, will be in the accompanying parentheses.
"I can't find the lightning bolt!!!" (New operating system.)
"The photocopier is trying to kill me!" (It was.)
"GODDAMMIT You piece of crap! I hate you so much, why don't you just die!" (Addressing stapler [not a Swingline], potentially in league with photocopier.)
"Of course you did. Thank you. Bye." (to Patient records upon finding out that the films required for the audit were destroyed last year, after spending 40 minutes trying to locate them)
"Nooooo, are you kidding me? It's my own personal Christmas." (to co-worker who tentatively asked if audit preparation was going badly. I may have been hiding under my desk sobbing at the time. It's hard to say.)
"We need audit cookies. Stat."
"I need audit cake. Stat."
"We need audit strudel. Stat."
"We need audit nachos. Stat."
"I feel fat."

Shut up. I'm pretty.

2007-09-07T23:04:00.001-07:00

Never ever EVER thought I would say this at work.

Guess I was wrong. That's what happens when you stare pointedly at the photocopier for 5 minutes, wondering why your printing hasn't shown up yet. "But I hit print! I don't understand it!"

"Um..."

"I mean, come on! Is everything broken and stupid around here?"

"Um..."

"For the love of... Oh, wait. Wait. Is this... Is this the photocopier?"

"Um... yeah. So, you have a master's degree, right?"

"..."

Good times. Happy it's Friday.

Also, speaking of chocolate, went grocery shopping. They had no Skor bites. I was sad, because I had a whole "perfect sundae" virtual exploded view diagram in my head, of which Skor bites were an integral part. My blood sugar may have been a bit low, I may have been a weee lllleeeeettlee bit cranky, because unfortunately, the following exchange then occurred.

"They have Maltesers."

"Well, why don't you just vomit right into my mouth?"

Facebook, you goofy bastard

2007-08-15T16:31:00.000-07:00

Well. I looked at my blog and realized that it has been a shockingly long time since I updated anything.
I blame Facebook. Its slutty, easy one-liners, its seductive "wall", its alluring ability to re-connect with long-lost friends...
Plus, I got a Piggy on mine!
"GRUUUUUUBBBSS!!!" is his catch-phrase.
(Some evenings, this is the only communication I will have with my brother. "Grubs!" I'll say. "GRUUUUBS!" he'll enthusiastically reply.
And yet, we complain about "The Little Autistic Boy Next Door™"'s incessant hooting. Which is happening right now, ironically enough.
"Hooot." "Hoot."
They really are a lovely family. It's just a bit annoying when you're trying to sleep.)
Okay. Stuff has happened. I got another tattoo. It is no longer itchy. It is beautiful. I love it.
It finally rained here. I can sleep in the apartment again.
I went to Saskatchamatoon and saw my ex-cat. He was aloof. I ignored him. It was like old times.
Work is work-y. Bleah. 'Nuff said.
Other stuff has happened too, but I don't wanna write about it right now. Too fresh. I like to wait for the hurt to get all infected and mouldering before I go into it. All scabby and scarred and oozing various colours and consistencies of pain and anguish and regret. All rancid, and bloated, and gangrenous, and... I'm gonna go have dinner now.

My tattoo is itchy.

2007-07-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

It is day 4 of new tattoo. Fret not, oh dear ones, I shall post a photo soon... But for now, GOD DAMN is this tattoo itchy!

For the life of me, I cannot recall how I dealt with this the first time I got inked. It was much bigger, too, and on the back, and I just don't get why this one is so annoying!

Work has gone from good but, "All Quiet on the Western Front" to good but, "Apocalypse Now". I mean to say it has become rather busy, hectic, chaotic, (pick one!) in the last week. I think I want a vacation. I also found out today, quite by accident, that my clinic nurse is taking her three weeks vacation starting next week. It was like an awkward break-up when I cornered her by the fridge in the staff break area. (I will call her Nancy because this isn't her name and I'm in a Nancy type mood today.)

Me:"Nancy?"

Nancy:"Oh! Princess of all that is Awesome (this is my offical work title. Shut up. It's my story.)! You startled me. I... I didn't see you there."

"Mmm hmm... Nancy... What's this I hear about a vacation? For three weeks?"

Nancy avoids eye contact and makes a non-committal grunting noise.

Me: "Were you ever going to tell me about this?"

Nancy: "Well, yeah, I just.. It just... It's not like that!"

Me: "Was I just supposed to guess? Like, doo dee doo dee dooo, oh hey, Nancy hasn't been around for awhile and my world's goddamn well falling apart but that's okay!?!"

Nancy: "That's not fair."

Me: "Oh really? No, Nancy, you know what's not fair??? Sixteen, sixteen goddamn sticky notes telling the physician where to sign, what to sign, and what queries to answer, and having the goddamn forms come back blank! I mean, for Christ sake, they've got like, seventeen degrees! Weren't any of them in basic comprehension!" {break down in tears, sobbing on the coffeemaker. The Tim Horton's tin starts to get damp.}

Nancy: "Ssshhh... It's only for three weeks..."

Me: "WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! I NEED YOU NOW!!!!! OH GOD DON'T LEAAAVEEE MMEEEEEEE!!!!"

Nancy: {bolts for the door. And freedom, glorious freedom}

Me: {commences Operation: Eat Cookies}

Is there something wrong with me...

2007-07-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

That I think this is very, very well done? I mean, yes, it's not something I would get to decorate my child's bedroom or anything, but the historical accuracy! The attention to detail! The scarcity of spelling errors! I'm so torn between admiration and unsettled right now.

Chapter 14:Squirrels with Quarrels

2007-07-18T21:12:00.000-07:00

Sir Nutkin Cutecheeks edged cautiously out of his burrow. The magpies had been silent for half an hour now, but did that silence signal their defeat on the blood-soaked battlefield, or was this some sinister new turn-about in their plan for neighbourhood domination? Sir Nutkin did not know. Nor did he care, for Sir Nutkin had been granted some things by nature that those insidious fiends, the magpies, had been denied by their creator.

Little tiny squirrel fingers that could load and draw a crossbow. Little tiny beady black squirrel eyes that could lock on their target from 50 yards. And a little, tiny, four-chambered squirrel heart that was filled with hate.

A few more inches... Sir Nutkin's foot grazed something warm. He froze. Looked down, into the glazed eyes of something that was once... His best friend Lazlo Pine Nuttington. Who had a squirrel wife and three squirrel children waiting for him back in the forest.

"You b*****ds," Sir Nutkin howled, hot tears of rage leaking out of his beady, squirrelly, little hate-filled eyes, "YOU B******DS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

What do you think... Be honest. Too much for a children's book?

Baby... It's 2 am...

2007-07-14T00:46:00.000-07:00

And it's bloody hot in this apartment...

Of course, had Matchbox20 gone with these lyrics, their album probably would not have sold as well. It might have, though (all rights, copyrights, last rites, etc. property of me). Just saying.

I'm actually not complaining. Granted, it is warm, and my troglodytic frathouse neighbours appear to be having a shouting contest, ("HEY!" "WHOOOT!" "HEY!" "DUDE!" "WHAT?" "DUDE!" "HEY!") because they are scintillating conversationalists, but it is also Friday (Hooah!), and I spent a lovely evening watching Battlestar Galactica with my brother. If there was ever any doubt as to the depths of nerddom that I will sink to, I believe I dispelled it tonight. Possibly while pawing at the television screen at the close of the Season 2 finale, while whimpering to M, "Chris has the third season, right? RIGHT?!?"

In other news, I may have inadvertently roped myself (please excuse the pun) into riding a mechanical bull at a notoriously rowdy bar on Saturday night. Updates to follow. I'll be honest, apart from a few obvious exceptions (head, neck, spine, teeth) I'm really not too concerned about breaking something. I'm overdue anyway, considering the number of stairs I navigate in a typical day at the hospital. I'm hoping for a non-writing arm, or possibly clavicle, because I think I'd look good in one of those arm slings. "That's right, work that cast, awww yeah, now pose! Good! Just like that! Grimace! I like it, I like it!"

Yes. SMRT indeed.

My apartment... She smells!

2007-07-08T22:25:00.000-07:00

It may be time to move. Loathe as I am to utter such a soul-crushing, heart-wrenching statement, I am starting to think a move would be easier than dealing with the utterly indescribable smell the lobby has achieved since "The Great Flood" occurred on Thursday night. It's... kinda... like... if you took a wet dog. And soaked it in mold. And poured urine over it. And there's kinda this chokey, gaggy sensation you get while you're sprinting through this, like when you've just inhaled drywall dust and it hurts to breathe. Ah, well. It was good while it lasted. And home can be re-created (with variable results) anywhere, right?

On another note, it is currently Stampede time in mine own faire city. For those lads out there, I hate to disappoint, but hooting and hollering at young ladies (me) who happen to be minding their own business is not the proper way to make friends at this time of year. (Because normally this would send me into fits of writhing ecstasy and make me want to spring, Tawny Kitaen-like, on the hood of their (pimped-out) automobile. Yeeeah. I don't really see it happening.) All in all, apartment issues aside, I had a lovely weekend. Saw the lovely and talented Neuba, hung out with "mah boyz", saw my mum... It was good. Oh, and got some more art supplies. Got me a bendy man. I have named him Gregoire, and he shall help me realize the potential of my new sepia pencils. Good luck with the Mondays, all. I must to sleep.

"That's where I'm a viking!" - Ralph Wiggum

A break from the manifesto....

2007-07-05T22:26:00.000-07:00

For an epiphany. A wonderfully horrible epiphany. (Incidentally, Chapter 1: or, "Special Squirrels Need The Most Love" is going well. Many revelations about emo squirrels. New emotional depths. Depths that haven't been explored in a while. Depths that probably should have been left alone to their own squirrelly devices. Depths with acorns. And chittering.).

I thought I was getting an ear infection at work today. Much localized head pain, tenderness, and my balance went total shite on me (No, I wasn't drunk. I was high. Kidding....officer). Also could have been the stilettos. We'll never know.

I tolerated it as best I could (whining incessantly and pawing at it like a cat wearing a novelty hat), got home, found a waterfall in my front lobby, and promptly forgot about it. OH MY SWEET BABY JESUS, was that a nightmare! I am not, nor will I ever be on the condo board, and yet somehow I ended up calling the property management, turning off the taps in the flooded laundry room, and talking to them about fifteen times that evening. I cannot stress enough how surreal it is to try and convince somebody that water pouring through the ceiling is worthy of an emergency plumber visit. Not to mention the floods of water pouring down the stairs and soaking: the laundry room; the apartment next to the laundry room; the hallway; the alternate staircase that provides a detour from said flooded lobby. All routes of escape are blocked by putrid-smelling H2O.

I spent the remainder of the evening cleaning the apartment in a frantic bid to discourage the Hellenic army of insects and other vermin that will shortly descend on our damp, warm, frat boy infested apartment complex ("Tonight, we dine in HELLOooo... Is that pizza?".

There was supposed to be an epiphany here somewhere... Right. I just put some ear medicine in, and bloody Hell, is that a disgusting feeling. I guess Mum's little dog isn't as slow as she pretends. The last time I tried to administer her ear medicine, 10 pounds of fluffy adorable dog got the better of me. Now I know why.

What's a good word that rhymes with chicken, and means "deadly projectile"?

2007-07-05T22:23:00.000-07:00

I'm writing a children's book.
It's not going well. Sales wise, I don't think this will be on a par with J.K. Rowling and her "mildly successful" series.

I need a manifesto.

2007-07-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

I have made a momentous decision (see title). There is, of course, a glaring flaw in this plan. I do not have any strong political motivations. I had lunch today with one of my work colleagues, and she asked about my political leanings. "Well," I replied, "ideologically, I would have to say I have liberal tendencies, although I have been fairly impressed with the federal conservative actions so far. But I voted Green in the last election. Because I like the colour." (note: while I actually said this, the colour (so pretty!) is not the real reason. I like their platforms. I also think that a fundamentalist Christian snowball wearing a placard that reads "Demons suck" has a better chance in Hell than the Green party does of being elected to federal leadership. But a girl can dream.)

I digress. My manifesto will not be about political ideologies. There are far, far too many people who believe that other people give a crap about what their political ideologies are. Those people are fools. Because what the public really wants is a manifesto on insomnia, the best snack treats, road rage, and lazy, lazy stalkers. Also gardening, dogs, suicidal squirrels, angry crows, strange relatives, dysfunctional families. Not to mention graphic novels and how they're better than 99% of the shite that comes out on the "BEST SELLER LIST". Seriously, Dr. Phil. Seriously, Oprah. How about a little more zombie on that list, yeah?

I will call it, "The Super-Mega-Awesome-Neato-Cool Manifesto" (note: this is a working title only, okay? No being all judgy and stuff. Write your own damn manifesto).

I haven't been sleeping.

2007-06-18T21:33:00.000-07:00

And I know what you're going to suggest, but work is far too busy (and surprisingly enjoyable) to make up for lost naps. I may actually take the unprecedented step in my family of willingly seeking out a doctor (Our family motto: Mortalis ante Medicus), because I can't keep getting to sleep at 3 when I have to get up at 6... 6:15... 6:25... 6:33... 7:14... snooooozzee........
I suspect that only a small part of this is due to my penchant for reading zombie graphic novels and books on... um... child soldiers in Sierra Leone before I sleep. I've always read books on a variety of subjects, and I haven't always been getting to sleep when the birds start to sing again (Sample song: "Ooooooooooooooooooohhh..... It's morning but not yet because it's still dark but the sun's going to be up real soon, and I looooooooooooooooooooooove to sing-a..... And good lord ain't I cute on this little branch with my adorable feaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathers.....")
I think it may be the new job. Not that I don't love it, because I really, really do. It's just that (shockingly) it can be a bit sad working in a cancer centre sometimes. Sometimes there are bad days, and I wouldn't be able to do my work if I let it get to me then, so... It percolates. And then it hits when I finally get to lie down and "not" think.
Ha. I have yet again avoided the doctor... MORTALIS ANTE MEDICUS! WHOOT!

Not a pity party....

2007-06-16T23:07:00.000-07:00

But I hate father's day. If I see one more goddamn poster of a father helping his child to learn how to play catch, or holding their kid with that maniacally proud parental grin on his face... F**k it. Thank God it's only once a year.

It's official....

2007-05-23T20:12:00.001-07:00

To all outward appearances, I may resemble a normal (ish?) 27-year-old woman. Maybe a little on the edge, what with the piercings and tattoos and stuff. A little kicky. A little wild. A little... sumthin' sumthin'.... (suggestive eyebrow wiggle).

Lies. All lies. You see, as it turns out, emotionally speaking, I am actually a 67-year-old woman named Ida, who collects those ghastly little fat kid figurines and has a poster of a wretched looking kitten with the caption, "Hang on there, baby, Friday's coming!" (note: I actually am very fond of the name Ida. This is the only thing keeping me from the abyss.)

Frick. Frickity frick frick frick.

I don't even know how or when it happened. One day, I'm feeling relatively "hip", "with it", and the next....

I'm watching freakin' ballroom dancing with bated breath, while frantically humming Frank Sinatra along with the quick-step performance. And it was really, really good! Frick. And I mean, really, really good.
Oh yeah, and I also passed up M&Ms in favour of pumpkin seeds. Pumpkin seeds, people! Next thing, it will be prunes.
And another thing? I'm wearin' my glasses right now. That's right! Even though I look better with my contacts, I know that long term wearing can result in a higher risk of eye disease and various other complaints.
I'm so f**king screwed.
On a completely different tack, for a moment, (before I return to wallowing in my own delicious self-pity) I have endeared myself immeasurably to my colleagues at work. At about 4:00, I pushed back from my desk, cursed out my computer, and then announced my intention to my fellow cubicle minion. "Yo Sandra*(*not her real name). I'm on a quest for chocolate. You want anything?" Sandra was doin' good, so after making inquiries of the other ladies, I embarked on my quest. And I make it to the upstairs hallway connecting the Cancer Centre and the main hospital. Unbeknownst to me, apparently this hallway, for the brief time I needed a fatty, sugary snack, had become, "The Hallway of Supermodels with little tiny butts and size zero jeans. (I mean really, who the hell makes size zero jeans? It's not even logical!)" Now I am by no means fat (as long as you don't ask my dad, who by many accounts is kind of an idiot/expert when it comes to destroying people's self esteems). But I am tallish and half English, which means that even if I suddenly lost, oh, let's say 50 pounds, my skeletal structure would still not fit into anything remotely approaching a size zero (hiss). It's the Viking, I'm told. Or the milkman. I was never really clear which.
But I digress. Anyway, I successfully navigated "The Hallway of Supermodels with little tiny butts and size zero jeans", and made it to the canteen to purchase... A jumbo box of Junior Mints. 'Cause they're low-fat, right? Right? But still delicious. I have made the perfect choice, ha ha ha ha. Unfortunately, I still had to navigate said "Supermodel/tiny butt/size zero" hallway with a huge box of chocolate. Yeah, I know they're looking at me. Judging me. Thinking, "Fat". Of course, that would be if their poor, glucose-starved brains were able to form a coherent thought other than, "So... hungry..." (Look at me, I'm Judge Judgington!) I made it back, doled out the Junior Mints, and relayed my story to Sandra. She made the appropriate noises (haha... aww...of course you're not fat! Awww...haha), and we got into a discussion about healthy eating. This is where I think I endeared myself the most. "Sandra," I said, "you know that little voice in the back of your head, that quiet voice that says, 'hey, how about some carrot sticks instead of those Junior Mints? Or celery? Yummy!' It was screaming at me while I navigated that hallway. And you want to know something invaluable... Something I learned during this emotional journey?" "What?" Sandra asked. "Sometimes you gotta punch that voice right in the mouth and say, 'Not now, bitch! I'm eatin' Junior Mints!'"
I may have made her spray coffee on her computer. I don't know. Information Systems doesn't know. I'm not saying either way.
Back to self pity mode again for one moment. Anybody got a surefire method of fixing a piercing infection? My navel is spewing pus like one of those soft-serve Milky Dame "ice cream" fountains. Oh, and no wise-ass stuff like, "Take the piercing out, stupid.", because this baby is staying in, damn it.

Things I learned this weekend....

2007-05-20T16:31:00.000-07:00

1. It is very hard, nay, impossible to pry a determined "Pork Chop" (a reasonable facsimile is pictured to the left) off my green tea frappucino when she decides she wants whipping cream.

2. But you can brake suddenly....

(thump.) Yup. That works.

3. I rock.

4. I may have a shoe problem.

5. I spend way too much money on comic books.

6. I think I'm going to take motorcycle lessons. To help the environment.

7. I have a crush on Sullivan Ballou. It's a harmless crush, trust me. Essentially, he wrote a letter that out-romantificates any letter any other man could ever ever write. If you don't believe me, go here.

8. My brother rocks. Look what he bought me.

9. That's all for now, but there's one more day in the weekend. There may be more stuff pending.

10. In fact, I'm almost sure of it.

11. Oh, yeah, I also saw Shrek the Third. It's a renter. Cute, but a renter.

I Like to Sing-A...

2007-05-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

I saw this three days ago. It made me laugh for 10 minutes. Then... I showed it to my main man, the Mack Daddy himself. Big Daddy M. Me brother. And for the last 72 hours, every time we look at each other, one of us will start singing "I like to sing-a, about the moon-a and ah June-a and the spring-a... I like to sing-a.." whilst doing a bizarre tap-dance-esque routine. I would like to state for the record that he does it far mo' bettah than me. Is true. So.... what's new... My job. She rules. Most people will mock me for what I am about to write, but it is only because they do not understand the purity of joy that can be obtained when one is faced with mountains of frustrating, redundant, bureaucratic red tape. It's freakin' awesome. It's like doing your taxes. Every day. WHOOT! And believe me, I know how sick this sounds, but I am really, really enjoying it. It's as though my psychological disorders and my formal education have meshed into a single, perfect job. "OCD, meet MBT. I'm sure you two will get along great. Oh look! There's Father Issues! I'm gonna go say hi." (I totally bet OCD and MBT are going to get it on. Hee.)

In other totally super awesome keen news, I will soon be seeing my bestest buddy in the whole world soon. In Sin City. (YAY! SINS!) Mr. Kovbasa, Big Mack Daddy M and myself will be meeting in Vegas in a couple of weeks, and I can hardly wait. I've planned our trip around two things. Cirque de Soleil, and the M and Ms store. And the wax museum. Okay, three things. Oh, and there's a car museum at the Imperial Palace.... And a roller coaster at New York New York.... Okay, more than three. Shut it. It's going to be super wicked awesome cool because I have been missing Mr. K something fierce. I'm cool, though. I haven't been letting on at all. Subtle. That is me..... "I LIKE TO SING-A!!! ABOUT THE MOON-A AND AH JUNE-A AND THE SPRING-A!!!!! WHOOOOOO!"

It's spring, tra la laaaa...... (gunshot)... La... la....

2007-04-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

A housekeeping item. Just so's everybody knows, I was not the stalker lady arrested for almost running over Sandra Bullock's husband, Jesse James. First of all, stalking seems very counter to my cat-like, sleeping-17-hours-a-day life philosophy. Seems like a lot of work. Hell, even if I lived next door to them, it would be like, "Awww, man!?! I gotta put on pants, go out to my car, put the keys IN the ignition, drive 10 whole metres (meters, 'cause I'd be living in the United States), and deal with Mr. Lucky dodging me? I don't THINK so." Also, I drive a Bland Slam. If it runs over anything larger than a Tic Tac, something snaps off the goddamned thing. Of course, then I could probably kill Mr. James by virtue of the fact that he'd die from laughter as I try to wrestle with my P.O.S. car. So yeah. Hope that clears everything up. Also, I've forgotten how to do links, so I can't actually link to the news story, but the lady stalker is like 5'4" and blond. And I ain't.

Had an awesome day today.... I went to the Garden Centre, and spent a sh*tload on plants and potting soil and stuff. It is my plan to have a lovely, lush, soul-destroyingly plant-y balcony this summer. So I got pansies. Lots and lots of pansies. Go ahead! Make your jokes! I love pansies! They thrive on neglect, and they like the sun, and since the balcony is like one of those desert movies in the afternoon, you know, the ones where there are little heat ripples and mirages and stuff, I figure they've got a good shot. Seriously, though, I can't think of many more fun ways to spend some time than gardening. What I'm doing doesn't really qualify, but it's stilll very fun for me. I get so disgustingly excited about gardening, I thought they were going to have to turn the hose on me at the Golden Acres. "It's spring! Boo yah, mutha f***as! Awwww yeahhh....." On the other hand, I do get seasonal allergies. I was a seriously disgusting specimen this morning. Poor Malcolm (brother, "new" roommate) had to deal with me sprinting past him on the way to the kleenex, screaming, "Oh god! It's like a clown car!" I eventually got a handle on it by mixing a bunch of different cold and allergy medications. No more sinus pain, but holy gods, I was drowsy at odd times! I'm sure this weekend will give me lots of exciting and fun stuff to write about, so I will go out and be naughty and post all about it later!

I'm going home..... For goods, y'all!

2007-04-23T11:22:00.000-07:00

Woot. Total Britney Spears moment there. O' course, I'm not gonna shave my head and go all, like, rehab or anything. That s**t is for quitters. Anyhoo.....
Announcements.
Much has happened in that last couple of weeks. I mentioned earlier that I was somewhat... disillusioned with my job, and was applying for other positions. Some in Edmonton, some in Calgary.
I gots a job in the Calgary. [I will interject here to say that if you did not hear this from my lips, it doesn't mean I don't like you. I have been trying to tell people, but also I've been trying to pack and stuff and it's been super-mega busy so please I hope no one's feelings get too hurt.] Much joy, much sadness. Sadness mostly because I have to leave some truly awesome, wonderful people who make Edmonton a good place to be. And that shows you how truly awesome these people are, considering my suggestion for the municipal motto, "Welcome to Edmonton. Sorry about the smell." [ed. note: This was based on a particularly pungent day downtown, wherein the exhaust from the many cars, combined with the lack of wind, made the place smell like ass. Really. And I don't mean burros. Of course I know that this was a freak occurrence, and happens frequently in other cities. But still. Ass, people.]
Anyway, this job will be awesome. I get to work with people and be highly organized, which appeals greatly to the OCD aspects of my personality. Also, I get to move back in with my wonderful, intelligent, funny, big screen TV ownin' brother. Ooh. He also got one of those vacuuming robots. It kind of scares me, but it does a great job.
What else.... I got my navel re-pierced by some very friendly, attentive men at WEM. They were very nice. One offered to impregnate me (as long as I wasn't married) and the other asked if I wanted to go hot-tubbing that evening. So sweet. Such nice boys...
I don't think I have any other news right now. But I'm also still not dressed and only on my third cup of coffee, so I might be forgetting something.

It's official.

2007-03-30T23:00:00.000-07:00

I have a girl crush on Sandra Bullock. She's just so damn cute! And nice, you know? She always seems to have these "girl next door" type characters that I find completely irresistible. I wonder if I'm her type? I don't really know anything about muscle cars, like Jesse James, but I like to think I have other attributes that would make up for that. Maybe I should call her. Hmm. Gotta plan this out. Gotta be... smooth.

Bonjouuurrrrrr.... Yeh cheese eatin' surrender monkeys!

2007-03-21T20:33:00.000-07:00

There is absolutely no purpose to the above title, other than its comedic value. Not much to report. I have no exciting or distressing medical news, and work's been... well, let's just say I've been sending out a lot of resumes lately. I had my first pole-dancing lesson last night... Apparently I'm a natural (Mom, stop crying). I do have a lot of sympathy/admiration for exotic dancers, because man, am I bruised! (Mom, I mean it. Stop crying.) The weather here has been quite crappy lately... I keep torturing myself by going to the weather network site and looking up Calgary's forecast... Then stroking the screen lovingly while screaming at Ben, "HA! It does suck here!" ( Mom, for god's sake. This does not mean I wasted 7 years at university. It's just something fun to do.) In other news, um... There ain't much there. I'll keep you posted, yes? (Mom, you can have my car. The keys are right here.)

The horror.... the horror....

2007-03-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

So I had my official "violation of orifices with barium" day yesterday. Dude. I'm seriously hoping they find something non-colon related, because I never ever ever want to have that test again. The clinic people were great. Very professional. No jokes. Actually, the funniest comment that was made was by an older gentleman leaving the x-ray room. He looked at me, glared at the nurse, and said conspiratorally, "Don't let her sweet-talk you.", before exiting the premises. Gotta say, once I walked in there and saw the apparatus, I was about ready to bolt too. It was one of those situations that you just know has to be as awkward as possible. I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of being embarrassed now, because there's nothing like having a tube fulla barium shoved in your... um... you know whilst there are several people walking in and out of the room, taking x-rays and asking you to continually rotate. Oh, and the icing on the cake is that the radiologist was freakin' gorgeous. "Of course you are," I thought to myself as I gazed into his soulful, brown eyes.
And then... well... fortunately for you, I've already blocked out the actual procedure. And then afterwards I had chicken pitas and fries and it was awesome. More later. The dog has to go out.

I feel like chicken tonight... Or any type of solid food!

2007-03-01T11:07:00.000-08:00

I am currently on one of those clear fluid diets for the next two days, after which I get to be violated with something that spews barium out of it. I'm envisioning it like one of those paint guns you see spraying the sides of industrial buildings.
Suffice to say, I'm hoongry-like! Right now I'm craving KFC, which is really stupid, because if I could eat solid food, I wouldn't touch KFC with a ten-foot pole. Too... um... greasy? Too many sewer dwelling critters can be fried up to look like it? I don't know. Take your pick.
On the plus side, I am taking Thursday and Friday off of work. The people are lovely, but seriously, this is not the job I moved for. I'm so pissed off at management right now, not for lying to me per se, but for doing it so consistently and with such flair. Pretty much every aspect of the job has been a lie. So I'm looking for other work. Or going back to school. Ahh, academics, my old standby. You'd never lie to me, would you, genetics textbook? I... I love you too, book.
Oh crap, it's happened. I'm giddy from lack of food. And it's not cool, naughty books with highly improbable sex scenes that are talking to me, it's my textbooks. Figures.
Well, I'm going to go eat broth and juice (Yummers!) and watch Vin Diesel beat things up. Hugs to all, and J and O, for the sweet love of Odin and all his monkeys (Hey. I may not know much, but I knows my mythology.) stop with the hating. I will see you this weekend.

Dawwwwww....You guys!

2007-02-17T16:57:00.000-08:00

So first of all, a big shout out to all my peeps, who supported me when I was down... I... I... love you guys....
Also, my body started crying out for salad after about the sixteenth chocolate cookie. Apparently, my body won't let me abuse it anymore. Damn. And I was gonna start smokin' again. You know, to blend in to "New Jersey". (Kidding... I actually think I'm the only person in the world who didn't want to quit smoking... It just kind of gave up on me.)
I am much more cheerful now. I think I'm going to enroll for EMT training. Still apply to med school, but in the meantime, EMT stuff. Yay! I think it will balance out the crappity job situation, too. I will use the decent money to springboard to something better. And let's face it. Edmonton is cheaper to live in than Calgary. I can do this in a shorter time span. At least, that is this week's plan.
So Bne's giving me a ride to work, and I suddenly notice, "You know? You never see a homeless guy and a leprechaun in the same area?" I know what you're thinking. She's absolutely right. I have not seen a homeless guy and a leprechaun in the same area. But in case you doubt me, I provide the following proofs for my hypothesis. Homeless guys.... Surly. Leprechauns? Also surly. Homeless guys.... drink. Leprechauns? C'mon. They be my people. The Irish. Blood does not course within these veins. Rather, a mixture of erythrocytes and 40 proof whiskey flows through our circulatory system. Both homeless guys and leprechauns protect a mythical pot of gold.
At least the ones along Jasper do.

I need a monster prescription of Fuckitol

2007-02-06T19:24:00.000-08:00

So.... um.... I didn't get into med school. Again. For the fourth time. I think they're trying to tell me something. At least I made it to the final cuts this time, which means at the last minute I got thrown to the garbage heap of what I can only assume must be the non-art-thievin', non-hotel room-wreckin', non-prescription abusin' group. And who would want anybody that boring for their physician? I ask you? I'm alternating between utter despair and apathy for everything in my life right now. I think the biggest problem is that I've been trying for this for so long, I don't know what else I would like to do for a career. And I'm gettin' a bit long in the tooth to keep pursuing something that may never happen. Probably will never happen. Not that I'm depressed. Or administering chocolate through IV right now or anything. "20 ccs of Fudgie-os! STAT!" So I welcome everyone's suggestions, because I am seriously, seriously lost right now. I gotta go eat more stuff now. See yas.

2007-01-26T19:02:00.000-08:00

HOMEWARD BOUND! BOO YAH!

I know, I know... It's been two weeks. I can't understand the sheer joy of returning to one's home turf until one has been gone for longer. But I would put it to you that if one's two weeks involved the following:
- fire alarm
- actual fire
- getting harassed DAILY by punks/ jackasses/ losers along Jasper who:
i) swear at you
ii) follow you for blocks asking for money over and over and then, (see above)
iii) talk about who's getting stabbed tonight (seriously!)
iv) pretend to shoot people in the head while shouting something incoherent apparently involving the fact that somebody laughed at them once about something some time in the last 5 years
- finding out that the full time position that you were assured of and moved for is still "in the process of being approved by HR until they can iron out a few kinks. Then we'll create it. I swear."
- get assigned random shifts varying between 12-8, followed by 8-4, then maybe another 8-4 and how about we do it again next week!

... then perhaps a bit of leeway could be given involving the whole joy in going home thing. I swear, the crack house next door seems really tame and so... so... Disney now. I feel like baking them cookies or something.
Grrmmm... Crabby. I think I'm gonna go eat chocolate and watch Constantine. Or maybe Chronicles of Riddick. I need to see something good-lookin' kick the respective asses of something bad. Or maybe I'll go play Civilizations III (thanks, Kovbasa! :D) and see how fast I can kill my city. Last time it took me 10 minutes to destroy civilization. So proud... sniff...
Plus, I think I underestimated how much I would miss my family and friends. I mean, I knew I would miss them, but damn! This is brutal. I feel like I should cut up pictures of them and glue them to my arms as the new transdermal patch.
Okay, I'm done whinging for now. Hope you all have a really good weekend. I know I will, 'cause... I'M GOING HOME! WHOOOOOOOT!

2007-01-21T17:15:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Edmonton, the New Jersey of Alberta. Sorry about the fires.

This morning concluded my first full week in the arctic tundra of Edmonton. (Kidding, it's either no' so bad, or I'm getting used to it). So, thoughts on it? I really don't like fire alarms. Or fires. I vaguely remember O. and J. talking about fires/fire alarms in their apartments, and I can only guess it must be some sort of wierd "Welcome to Edmonton" thing that newcomers are not privy to. Early last Sunday, about 2:30 am, some drunk jackass thought it would be a good idea to pull the alarm. (Funny aside. I actually slept through the alarm. Bne had to shake me awake. Ironically, all he would have had to do was snore once in my ear to shoot me bolt upright, shaking with righteous anger and sleep deprivation.) So there we are, me, Bne, my Mum and her little dog. We had the worst response time in the world. I'd like to claim partial credit, but really, a lot of it had to do with Mum needing to coordinate her coat and boots, and getting Butter Chubs Jr. all wrapped up in her blankey before we could escape the flames. Yeeaaaaahh.......
So it turns out to be a false alarm. And I go back to bed, swearing about Bne's apartment, although, bless his heart, it wasn't his fault. I just needed to blame something, and his apartment building was right there, minding its own business. Fast forward to Friday night. I have successfully completed my first week at work. More about that later. We go out for dinner at Bne's swankity restaurant, the "Buttery Meat House" (motto: "Yup, it's a heart attack.") and go over to a friend's house to watch Bon Cop, Bad Cop (awesome!). We return about 2 am, and notice there are numerous fire trucks on our block. I jokingly said, "If that's our building, I'm going back to Calgary." Famous last words. There was a fire on the floor below our apartment. Fortunately for us, the smoke damage was limited to that floor, as should it should be for one who doesn't check to see if their cigarette is out before chucking it in the trash. Xtreme Stupid. So that's been my Edmonton experience so far. I'll talk about my job later, when I get a better bead on it.
And lastly, a private missive to Kovbasa. Be good, be safe, and take care of yourself. Be good to yourself, because not many people deserve it as much as you do. You are very important to the world. Remember what Markus Aurelius said, "The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it." Make yours wonderful.

2007-01-04T16:02:00.000-08:00

Yet another sign of the impending Armageddon: They have begus serving, get this, sushi, in the hospital cafeteria. Because the regular food poisoning wasn't bad enough. I swear to the god of bunnies, if they want to fix the bed shortage we're experiencing in Calgary, they should close down the cafeteria. That would eliminate half of the GI emergencies right there, in my opinion. Of course, for legal reasons, I will say that I can't prove any of this, and that this is only my own personal bias and is purely mentioned for comedic value. But seriously, sushi? Kee-rist!
Um, also, just in case some people get all zealoty on me for the previous blog (Bne...take a joke) I actually like Edmonton very very much, and for the record, when I went to New Jersey, it smelled a hell of a lot less than New York. Of course, there was a garbage strike on at the time, but still. I think the motto would lose a bit of its je ne sais quoi if it read: Welcome to Edmonton, sorry about the smell, but hey, it could be worse, you could be in New York during a garbage strike.
Work is kinda funny right now. I'm on my last two weeks, and (surprise!) there is a grant due at the end of it, so I've got a tonne of stuff to do (metric tonne) and so far, I've been given 3 more projects in addition to the three I should already be dedicating all my time to. So, in the spirit of the two weeks' notice clause, I spent a large chunk of my day perched on top of the filing cabinet eating leftover Christmas chocolate. Ahh, fulfilling.

2007-01-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

First of all, it's been a long, loooong time since I blogged. So long, in fact, that my beautiful, talented, intelligent mother (whom I take after in every way) pointed out that I haven't updated. Which means it's been a long time. Period.
Lots and lots of changes. Okay, maybe not lots, but dang it! there are some changes that are pretty darn big.
First of all, New Year's Resolutions. Less swearing. Not stopping outright, because let's face it... Driving in Calgary or Edmonton/New Jersey (City motto: Welcome to Edmonton, the New Jersey of Alberta. Sorry about the smell. :D ) lends itself particularly well to swearing. Just, um, less of it would probably be good. And no more asking the aforementioned beautiful talented mother of mine to flip off the guy in the SUV who just cut me off. Unless I think he particularly deserves it.
Other resolutions are to go to bed earlier. This whole getting to bed at 4 thing is kinda crappy, particularly in light of my awesome soon-to-be mentioned changes.

Ahem.
I am moving to "the New Jersey of Alberta". I was offered and have accepted a sweet job there. I will be making phat stacks, mad stacks of cheddar. Boo yah. That is all for now, as I am going to lunch. Back soon.

2006-12-01T12:32:00.000-08:00

I was supposed to attend an autopsy today, but nobody died, apparently. I was actually quite happy about this, because I spent the better part of last night feeling guilty about waiting for somebody to die. Of course, then Pretty Pretty Man Meat (work colleague) came in, who was to attend as well, ranting about the indecency of people not to die when they're expected to. Going to Hell or not, I thought it was funny. Anyway, I ended up at work at 8:30, which in research terms, is equivalent to about 5:00 am office time. There was NOBODY here... So I drank coffee until my heart hurt, and fell asleep a bunch of times. Oh, and I did actually get some of my work done, too. Don't you judge me! However, there is now a 4 hour incubation step I'm waiting on. So... nothing to do for a bit. I will offer advice on sleeping in your office. Don't fall asleep on the office chairs that swivel and rock back. Somebody slammed a door one office over, and I just about did a somersault and sprained something. My dignity, definitely. Also, don't sleep on your sweater, because it's very hard to pretend you were doing something productive when your boss walks in, and you have a corregated cardboard texture to your forehead.
In other news, it was my birthday recently. Muchos gracias to those who have provided me with offerings and sacrifices. (Thanks for the coffee, Clark!) Seriously, everybody was so lovely, and Mum made dinner, and I got a leeetle bit tipsy. Apparently after 3 glasses of wine, I think I'm a ballerina. According to Bne, whom we all know is completely unreliable and not to be trusted on such matters.
For those of you who have not yet celebrated the joyous event that is me, FEAR NOT! You have ways of contacting me... I will let you know what I want, or if you don't want to shop, money is the gift that keeps on giving... Also, I apparently likes the booze.

2006-11-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

I think I'm getting pickier with my job applications, something I didn't think would happen for a bit longer. For instance, when I see the words urine or fecal, I go on to the next one. I'm not sure when this happened... It's not that I'm squeamish, because, hello. I have worked with some pretty gross stuff... I think... It's just that I'll be turning 27 soon, and I think that my fecal and urine-related work experience should be behind me now. I'd like to start working with fewer bodily fluids and other outputs. Maybe even have a cubicle.
On a kind of related rant, I'm a little pissed at my body right now. In the last year, I've quit smoking, and cut back on drinking alcohol, and started drinking water, and eating healthier, and all sorts of good stuff. I have never been so sick, so often. Right now I have... I don't even know what the hell it is. I don't think it's catching. It may be Timmy Thomas disease. You know, you'll be fine and then you'll have this horrible, rasping, disgusting cough. What the hell? Were the cigarettes keeping the viruses at bay? I mean, come on. It's really counter to everything that the health promotion people spout on about. If this keeps up, I"m going to have to start smoking again. It's not that I want to, or even like it anymore. Believe me, I've tried. (I do like the second-hand smoke smell, though. I've never sniffed longingly at so many construction workers and homeless people in my life as since I've quit smoking.)
Oh well.... So in other news, I am taking care of Mum's little dog, Butter Chubs Jr. for the next two days. She's actually not a fat little dog, it's just that I threw my back out picking her up once, so the moniker stays. Plus, it makes Mum laugh. This dog, while adorable and sweet and everything, is so bloody spoiled, it makes my head hurt. Mum was giving me instructions for feeding... "So in the morning and the evening, she gets one third of a can of the wet food." "Okay." "And I'll heat it up in the microwave for 11 seconds." "Oka... Whuh?" "And sometimes, I'll sprinkle a little cheese on top." "You know, mum, I can never tell when you're kidding." "Oh, I'm not kidding, dear."
So last night, I feed the dog. Sans cheese. And the dog sleeps in the bed ("On the left side, dear, I hope that's okay." "The dog has a side?!? Holy Mother, my last boyfriend didn't have a side!"), so we're sharing the bed. I thought I was going to die of asphyxiation last night. I have not smelled gas that terrible in my life, and I've dealt with some pretty rotten mouse bodies... Only one more night of it.... I may sleep on the couch.

2006-11-03T21:50:00.000-08:00

Yup... That pretty much sums up my week. Although I did have dinner with Steve-O and Major Pain... Which was good.

2006-11-02T23:50:00.000-08:00

Dude... Just... just... dude. What a freakin' pointless day at work. Oh, it's not that I didn't get stuff accomplished, because I did. 'Cause I rock. But, man, you know it's bad when you just get in, and you're already looking longingly at the door. Anyway, so work = bad. Soon work = better, if I get my way. 'Cause I will have new work. Therefore, if a = Me gettin' me way and b = awesome karma job gods lining up to do me favours, than a+b=work=better. Or something like that. I sucked at whatever kind of math this was. Or logic. Whatever. You know, I'm probably still jacked on the uber-disgusting sauerkraut they had at the cafeteria today. It tasted like what I imagine cat butt would taste like. It smelled worse. I could only finish half. And I'm a woman who doesn't believe in wasting food. And the...um... vapours? Can I use that term on the interweb? Duuuuude... All I can say is that I'm glad no one was home. 'Cause I was like, MAN STINKY. That's right, I went there. I wonder what's wrong with me that I can't tell my father how I feel about our inability to communicate, but I can tell people about the gas-inducing lunch I had. I blame television. Yup...
Okay, in other news, I got me some new eyeglasses. Supah-fly, hottie nerd glasses. I am sexy, yo! I think their official product description is "hot librarian". Oh, plus, they're the right prescription, so I don't get the blinding headaches anymore. YAY! So yes. Let that distract you from the bawdy humour previously mentioned in this entry. Ahem. So polite. Unfailingly so. I'm going to go eat Twizzlers now.

2006-11-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

Yar... me hearties... It be a good day so far. I've already received two free coffees, and it's not even 11 yet. I kind of have the coffee sweats, though. But I'm a trooper. I'll soldier through it. WHY IS THE SCREEN SHAKING!?! In other news, work is... well.. um... I don't wanna talk about it. Turns out trying to cure cancer sometimes requires you to work on weekends. And miss weddings. And turn into a grumpy, coffee-swilling, trash-talking biatch. Other than that, things progress nicely. Mom threw her back out picking up fat little dog number two, or as I affectionately refer to him, "Butter Chubs". She's doing fine, though, I spent Tuesday with her, lecturing her every time she tried to do something, and then when she'd curl up in pain and whimper, I'd be all like, "I told you so... Now sit down or I hit you, biatch. Do you want it in the back, or one of your robotic hips?" And she's all like, " You can't call me that, I'm your mum." And I'm all like in her face and stuff like, "No, right now you just be an idiot! Now sit on the bed, and let me fluff your pillow, yo! Herbal tea or Earl Grey?" Yeah... We're ghetto. British ghetto. Mmmmm....

2006-10-25T00:28:00.000-07:00

Of course, there can be such a thing as too many Reese's Pieces. Gah, I feel so ill right now.

2006-10-24T22:40:00.000-07:00

I have about a billion things I have to get done... I have a presentation for Pathology research day on Friday, my med school essay to finish, jobs to apply for, things to clean...
So I'm scouting people's blogs and eating Reese's Pieces. I have a theory that ambrosia may in fact have Reese's Pieces listed as a key ingredient, because DAMN they're good! So as a request, I need people to update their blogs more frequently. Like twice a day or more should tide me over until next week. I can't handle the concept of being productive, otherwise.
My mum's friend's little dog, Mr. B., is going in for corrective surgery tomorrow (luxating patellar syndrome). We had a good cuddle today... He's very sweet, but damn. There is so not anything substantial behind those eyes... I swear I saw the sunlight shining out his eyes when I lifted up his floppy doggy ears. But he's always incredibly happy. Maybe that's the secret.
Damn. I'm almost through my pack of Reese's and I haven't done any work on my presentation yet. Mmm.... Peanut butter candy.... Oh yeah, and caffeine. Massive quantities of caffeine. My sleep schedule is totally shot to shit... I come home, have a nap, and get to bed around 4. Good times! I'm going to see how long it takes before the voices start telling me to do bad things.

2006-10-22T23:40:00.000-07:00

I have realized something of vital importance... I should never, ever drive around sunset. I'd say sunrise also, but those of you who know me, know that the likelihood of this is slim to none. Nothing happened, everything is fine, but my GOD! The sunset tonight was absolutely breath-takingly superb. I almost cried looking at it, it was so beautiful. This picture is kinda close, but picture also green, and blue, with purple stripey bits, and also a goldish yellow, and oh yeah... This is all framed by mountains. So beautiful. Only flaw was that I was going 140 (I mean, um, 110, 'cause that's the speed limit) at the time. And was getting a little bit swervy. Which was probably good, because it allowed me to fit in with the other idiots who apparently share the road with me. Anyway, that's all for now... Hope everyone has a not too hideous Monday. I get to split some cells and stuff. Yay, tissue culture! Boo yah!

2006-10-17T22:51:00.000-07:00

So here's the thing... I really, really want to pursue a career in medicine... And yet, here I am again, procrastinating. I think the crux of the situation is that I would make a great physician, a wonderful healer, but when it comes to filling out the damn application forms, I would rather perform an endoscopy on myself, without local anesthetic. Twice. I f**king hate hate HATE med school applications. I even prefer the rejection letters to filling out the endless paperwork and online forms that medical school administrators apparently require before they reject you to let, oh, I don't know, that guy who would routinely let his lab mice STARVE TO DEATH, in before you...
Not that I'm bitter, or disillusioned with the process. I mean, I can see why they would find criminal neglect a desirable quality in today's physician. Um, wait a sec.
In other news, I am still sick. No, I mean physically. It's some sort of flu-type thingy that I can't seem to shake... It's really annoying. On the plus side, I'm taking the lab down with me... All three of us are disgusting and phlegmy and headachey... And none of us are what you would call "stoic", so the whole cancer floor can hear us whining. It's awesome.
Now that I've vented, and am inhaling more Coke Zero (which has the best belching potential of any of the Coca-Cola products, by the by), I suppose I will take another look at my (ugh) application. Bleargh. Or maybe I'll play solitaire.

2006-10-10T16:37:00.000-07:00

I'm having chocolate cake for dinner! HEEE! Of course, I'm also stuck at work for the next four hours or so, so it kinda evens out. But chocolate cake! Whoot!
I'm not feeling very grown-uppy right now.

Later that evening.....
I think sometimes I either have a realllllly over-active imagination, or I'm just a bit pessimistic. I've been in the lab for about 9 hours straight, now, surrounded by carcinogens and other lovely chemicals. And then I sneeze. And I get a nose bleed. And immediately, I think, "Oh great father of monkeys, I've got leukemia!"
I'm gonna go finish my cake now, and read online comics instead of working.

2006-10-09T23:37:00.000-07:00

I like to pretend sometimes, that a certain relative is incapable of further midlife crises... I mean, he dumped the wife, got the car, got the trophy wife, got the apartment, got the exciting lifestyle, got the bleach blond hair...
Picture it. Thanksgiving dinner... The door to the luxurious apartment opens... And he now has a "Guido" style gold chain around his neck. A big, "Mr. T" type gold chain. All I could think of was the Fonz. Or possibly Joey Tribiani. "Eeeeyyyyy, daddio." Or, "How you doin'?"
I drank a lot at dinner tonight.

2006-09-28T23:50:00.000-07:00

LAZY ASS STUMBLE FOR THE CURE
..... is probably what they should call it, in my case. When I signed up for this, heck, before I finally took the time to see where I'm supposed to show up, I had no idea. None. Apparently, there's an 8:00 am. And I'm supposed to be in a parking lot, "stretching" and "warming up", at this alleged "time". For a 5 K "run". Ppftt. (This is me sighing with disgust, by the way). The best they'll get out of me at that time on a Sunday morning is a brisk walk, desperately clutching at my venti dark roast.
Damn, I'm a sucker for a good cause.

2006-09-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

Hey, all. I haven't been feeling very bloggy this week. It was an incredibly bad week, and I just want to say to everybody, hug the people you love, and be glad to know and be with them. I went to a funeral this week, for one of the most loving, gentle, and kind little boys that I ever had the honour of knowing. He was technically grown up, but in my heart and my memories, he will always be the little boy who was too small for his sweater, whose skinny little arms hugged my neck when I gave him piggy backs, and who snuggled in when I got to read bedtime stories. I am so proud to have had the honour and privilege of knowing Matthew, and the world is worse off for having lost him.
Anyway, all I want to say is that I hope my friends and family (you know who you are) know how much I love them, and am glad and feel lucky that you are all a part of my life. Thank you.

2006-09-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

My dad just called to let me know about his debilitating diarrhea... I love my life. I'm going to go drink now, until I've repressed this latest special family memory.
On the plus side, I've discovered that Tootsie Pops exist in mini form. I've consumed about 4 dozen so far.

2006-09-09T21:52:00.000-07:00

After a two month hiatus, me and some of the men went climbing today. It was awesome, if a little tiring. See, the reason for the hiatus was I got repeatedly sick with the Norovirus. This is a great, great way to lose weight, ladies. So go to the hospital I work at, and lick random surfaces (or people), and you too can lose 15 pounds. (Actually, I'm not totally sure it was the Norovirus, because of the duration of the illness, but I'm really not complaining because I feel better now. And I'm never, never eating at the cafeteria again).
The bugger of the thing is that although I have to haul less weight up when I'm climbing, I think most of the weight loss was muscle mass. It was kind of pathetic... I started getting tired belaying! This is probably because the most exercise my arms have received is lifting alcoholic beverages. "And repeat... Good... Two more reps.... one... more.... blearrgghhhh....... Yoou'ree a preTTy boOY, ArenN't Youu...'Scuuuse meEee... Blaaurrghhhh!"
So... Um... that's about all the interestingness in my life for now. Work's actually not so bad right now. I had an experiment work on Thursday, so I left by 3. Because I didn't want to jinx anything. Other scientists will understand. In fact, I have it on good authority that after Alexander Fleming discovered penecillin, he pretty much pissed around for the next couple of years, playing golf, reading porn, and living on his friend's ottoman (by good authority, I mean this really cool dream I had a couple of years ago). 'Course, then he had to go and rediscover it later, 'cause he forgot where he left it. Or something.
Oh yeah, the other exciting development in my life is that a frat house has now moved in next door. To be honest, I'm a little nostalgic for the crack house that was there before. If I hear one more tanked 17 year old howling at the god-damned moon and puking in the bushes while his friends laugh and record it on their camera phones for posterity, I will be forced to take drastic measures. I just don't know what those are yet. Suggestions would be highly valued. Nothing too illegal, please.

2006-09-01T13:01:00.000-07:00

So I learned something at work today. If you are going to forget to wear a belt, you probably shouldn't wear an electric blue thong. And you definitely shouldn't drop something in front of your boss, and bend down to pick it up. Awwkkkwardddd......
Luckily I changed the subject by asking about the differential physical and histological features between mesothiliomas and non small cell carcinomas... AWWW YEAHH!!!! Dodged a bullet there!

2006-08-29T22:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you just need a picture of a cow. Thusly, I have provided said cow picture. Moo. Moo, I say! I think the cow picture is going to have to sustain me, like a kind of surrogate Cow Game patch... Because I shall not be driving to Saskatoon this weekend. 'Cause I'm lazy. I'd say it like I mean it, but... you know... Lazy. Like I said. In other news, the Pirating Party went spectacularly well, as was expected. And I got to clean up steadily through the whole evening, which for me, is like Christmas with strippers. "WHOOOOOOOT!!! Swiffers! Awww yeah! That's right, you spill those drinks! Here comes the OxyClean! Awww baby!!!" (I don't really see this as a problem, despite what others may think).

Ahem. In other news, I tried my first, and probably last, Brazilian wax. The only reason I was able to finish, in my opinion, was that I repeatedly passed out from the pain, hit my head on the bathtub, laid unconcious for a few minutes, and then woke with no recollection of how I got there. And then it would be like, "Oh look! Brazilian wax! That looks like a good idea... Doo de doo de doo.... Hmm. It's kinda warm.... Kinda... soothing... Okay... now pull it off in one smooth, pain-free motion... HOLY MOTHER OF CHRIST!!!! AAAAAUUGHHHHH!!!!" [sounds of crashing as head hits the tub]

Repeat as needed.

2006-08-19T16:22:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling very close to this poster right now... So close, in fact, I may just have a beer! Too bad we only have rum. Hee. On the topic of rum, me scurilous dogs, I will in fact be calling as many people as numbers I have regarding a certain dapper tall young gentleman's upcoming day of natality, or his b-day, if you will. We going to party like it's his birthday, 'cause, well, it is. Anyhow, I actually haven't started calling yet, but the plans is as follows, in case I haven't got a hold of you land lubbers. Ahem. We be pirates, yo! We be dressing up like pirates, fo' shizzle. And we be floating down the river on rented rubber rafts, or "mighty sailing vessels", as I prefer to refer to them. Um.. I mean, rented rubbizle raftizzles.. Yeah... Okay, that may need some work. In the interests of clarity, I'm going to just speak plainly from here on in. Plainlyish... There will be two "mighty sailing vessels", the Flying Butchman, and the Black Earl. (No Pirates of the Caribbean rip offs here, no sirree). We will spend much of our time on the river trying to board the other vessels (not really) with our mighty cannons (Supersoakers... If you got 'em, bring 'em!) Super cool pirate duds (flotation vests) will be provided. There will then be a rendezvous back at Tortugizzle for grog and victuals. Yummers... If you wants to bring either of the aforementioned items, feel free. And if you wants to chip in for repairs to The Flying Butchman or the Black Earl, it will run about $10 /person. If ye wants to.... However, be warned. Those that don't chip in, run the very real risk of mutiny and subsequent keel-hauling. Maybe. I'll see how I feel about it. So, hopefully I'll talk to you all, but in the meantime, if there be questions, post, and they shall be answered! Or call... I'll be home and stuff.

2006-08-15T00:25:00.000-07:00

This... It's just... awesome... Siigghhh. So. Happy.

2006-08-13T15:50:00.000-07:00

Ahhh... Another trip to Saskatoon, another round (or 5) of the Cow Game. Different rules. Same champion. Me. HOOO WAAHH! (This was actually supposed to resemble the Marine chant, but looking at it makes me think of a cute anthropomorphic chipmunk with a speech impediment doing a cheer. Right before it's devoured by hungry, hungry wolves. Or neighbourhood cats, I'm really not too picky.)
Ahem. Anyway, it was a fairly interesting trip. You may hear other versions of this story from other people, but rest assured, mine is the most accurate version of events. So I'm driving, right? And I have two gentlemen with me, both highly intelligent, dapper young men of the highest quality. Available for a limited time on e-Bay. Your choice of blond or brunette. I'm veering wildly... from the topic. Anyways, I ask these two fine young men to be the official navigatory bodies in the Stroniach Bland Slam, as it hurtles its way towards the sunny shores of Saskatoon. We're going north, on Highway 2. Next thing I know, I see a sign for Red Deer. (the following is a dramatization and may not have actually happened. Certain events have been made up. Okay, nothing in this conversation actually happened, other than us going too far north. Which is kind of funny, too.)
"Umm... Guys?" [sounds of two grown men having a spitting contest in the car]
"Guys?" [which has apparently escalated to a nipple twisting contest in the last two seconds]
"Isn't that a sign for Gasoline Alley?"
"Uhh." "Yeah." "Weren't you watching the road?"
"I asked you two. You have the map. You are in the navigator seat. You agreed to be the navigator."
"Hee hee hee...Hyuck... Pwoot." [sound of resumed spitting contest]
"Guys?"
"Guys?!?"
"sigggghhh...."
So we go through Red Deer, find a road that connects to Saskatoon. It's very pretty and scenic, with valleys and fields and trees. I'm enjoying myself immensely, thinking, "Well, it's a longer drive, but at least it's beautiful. Yup, this is pretty sweet."
Then we hit the tornado. I can now say that I have been driving through the prairies whilst a passenger comments "Does that look like a funnel cloud to you?", and have it not be a joke. At least the driving rains got all the dead insects off the windscreen.
Then, we almost ran out of gas. We sputtered into a gas station in Handel, which I think is in Saskatchewan. It was closed, and it was one of those co-op, pre-purchased gas bars anyway. So I lost it. I started screaming, and kicking the front fender of my Bland Slam, recklessly endangering the lives of my passengers, as this action has been conjectured to be a signal for the Bland Slam to explode in self-defense. Fortunately, a very nice farmer drove up (in a lovely car... Not a Stroniach) and let me know that there was an open, payable gas bar at the other end of town. I wept a little, I think. I hope he didn't notice. Long story short, we arrived in Saskatoon about 9 hours after leaving Calgary city limits. The rest of the weekend was kind of a blur, as I had a beer pushed into my eagerly grasping hands the minute I pulled in. I know I had fun, 'cause I have a new tattoo. Apparently, I "heart" boobs. I must have found it funny at the time... I don't know how it's going to go over at church.

2006-08-01T22:31:00.000-07:00

Here's a query .... How come cigar tobacco smoke smells so great wafting through the air, but it leaves you smelling like cat butt?

2006-08-01T17:39:00.000-07:00

I've been on a binge for the last few days. A job hunting binge. I only took a break to buy cleaning supplies and clean the apartment, which for me is like crack cocaine. More about this later. As I was saying, I have become fairly disillusioned with my job lately, for the sole reason that looking for a cure for cancer pays nothing. Well, almost nothing. Also, my landlord raised my rent, so ppblltthh... (verbal equivalent of sticking your tongue out). That pretty much clinches it, I thought, looking at my bills, and deciding to once again put off going to the dentist. HA! I've foiled the evil dental overlords again! I guess the situation isn't all bad... Oh crap. I think I feel a twinge in my tooth...
As I was saying, I've been on a resume/CV submission binge the last few days. I half expect to wake up in a ditch with a cover letter stuck to my face, toner streaks in my hair, clutching at vaguely relevant business cards, with no clue as to how I got there. I'm pretty sure there will be some form of wildlife chewing on my fingers, too, but this may be the pessimist rearing its ugly, depressing, non-potential realizing little head.
Also, I'm starting to have conversations in my head at night. It makes it hard to sleep.
"Must... Find... Job..."
"But you have a job, silly."
"Must... Find... Better job..."
"But you want to do a post-doc."
"Can't... Afford... School..."
"Live with it, you big goober. So you eat no-name macaroni for a few more years... wait a sec..."
"Hate... Macaroni..."
"Yeah, wait a sec, I hate it too! You should start looking for a better job."
"Shut... Up... Or... Get... Poked... With... Q-Tip..."
"Ha! You can't afford Q-Tips right now! Nyah, nyah! You're so poor! Ha!"
"Damn... It..."
Siiiigghhh.....
On the plus side, as I mentioned before, I got to clean the apartment yesterday. Those of you who know me know exactly how bizarrely happy this makes me. I was actually singing to myself while I was figuring out the best organizational layout for the storage cupboard. I think maybe it's time to change medications. But not until I get the storage locker downstairs. Oh, and before anybody offers, I do not enjoy cleaning other people's houses. Okay, yes I do. I really, really do. Ask K. Donovan. But I will not clean any one's house right now, until I clean my mom's. 'Cause I love her, and she makes me pancakes and criticizes my choice in men, and really, is there a better combination in life than a mom who loves you that much? You know what, maybe I can supplement my income by cleaning friend's houses. That will be a good use of the master's degree. And at least I'll have fun...

2006-07-26T21:46:00.000-07:00

I went home sick today... Some peoples suggest that I have heat stroke. I have a different theory. See, I ate at the hospital cafeteria yesterday, but I neglected to use the rinseless alcohol foaming cleanser on the way from the cash register to the table. And I had fries, so I ate with my fingers. Obviously, this is the equivalent of going up to the sickest person in the room and licking them all over. Which, really, would have been a lot more fun than eating hospital cafeteria fries. 'Specially since there have been some devastatingly attractive sick people in the hospital lately. Rrowwr.
Anyway, mon frere was particularly sweet, when he got home. He took one look at me, lying on the couch, looking all oogy and gross, and offered to get me my "cuddle peas". All together now... Bwaaahhhhhhhhhhh........

2006-07-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

So I didn't get the job. The one I talked about before... I got an e-mail saying how impressed they were with me. And they were keeping my CV should any future job postings come up. At first, I was like, "Oh, how nice of them to let me know. I am appreciative." But after about the fifth e-mail like this, it's more like, "What the *&#$&%ing hell, people?!? If you're so damned impressed with me, give me the job, for the love of syphilitic monkeys!!!!" (Hey. They need love too. It may just chafe more.) To be honest, I'm not really that bummed out, because it would have been yet another thankless lab monkey position, they were actually offering less salary than posted, and it was only a 6 month contract. But maybe, just maybe, I could have bought a boat with that money. Or paid down my student loans, something practical like that. But I really think I'd prefer the boat. It's okay, though, because I have another position I have been informed about that would be totally, amazingly awesome and would be a perfect fit for me. So I can't discuss it any further, as per the standard Murphy's Law clause. But should anything happen, I will keep people informed.
So! I also saw M. Night Shyamalan's new movie, "Lady In The Water", this weekend. Loved it. My theory as to why various critics have panned this and several of his past movies, is that it would seem that a certain level of intelligence is required to enjoy these movies. I'm certainly not tooting my own horn here, (because the only horn I have access to is in the Stroniach Bland Slam, or "Alby", as I affectionately refer to it; I'm fairly certain that activation of said horn mechanism would almost definitely result in some potentially fatal dysfunction in another part of this oh-so-crappity mobile of mine), but both my mother and my brother, the two most intelligent people I know and have the pleasure of being related to, (which means they have to pretend to like me and tolerate me no matter what!) enjoyed the movie as well. So.... EVERYBODY, GO SEE THIS MOVIE OR I WILL SHAVE YOUR CATS. OR DOGS. OR BOYFRIENDS (and believe me... some of them need it!).
In other news, I had several benign run-ins with my brother this weekend. S'all good, we are friends again. I think a lot of the disagreements stemmed from a few key points:
1) I'm emotionally unstable, or "nuttier than a s**t-house rat", in medical terms.
2) I have a really, really screwed up sense of what is funny and what isn't. For instance, pretending to run over somebody with your car. Not funny, as it turns out. Once I actually let that pink gelatinous mass in my cranium mull it over for a few minutes, turns out that it is indeed, not funny. Which brings me to point number 3.
3) Most of the time, I'm a flaming idiot.
4) Thank the lord god above he's the forgiving type. Cause you do NOT want him mad at you.
To expound upon the last point, I feel it is pertinent to mention that we are of Irish descent. Which means that we are either idiotic fighters who act first and think it over later (me), or we are the quiet, intelligent, intellectual type, who, when they are mad at you, will do nothing but stare at you with a piercing glare of disdain and disgust (him). This seriously reduces me to a snivelling, pathetic pile of goo in about 2 seconds. Damn. I hope he doesn't read this, because then he'll know his super power.
Anyway, the point of all this was that we were talking it over earlier tonight, and I was like, "It's just my sense of humour, man. We're like two ships, passing in the night." And he's like, "Yeah, it's just that your ship is like the one crowded with idiots on spring break." To which my reply was, "Yeah? Oh... Oh yeah? Well, um... Your ship is like... um... it's like the senior cruise where everyone is breaking their hip and playing shuffleboard and stuff." Oooohhhhh, yeaahhhhh..... Still got it. I bet he's still reeling from that little burn. I really need to work on my trash talk.

2006-07-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

So I was getting ready for work this morning, and I'm fixing my hair in the mirror, and then, I sighed. Not one of those, "Oh crap, it's Monday," sighs, but one of those long, drawn-out, "Oh God I need a vacation so bad if I go to work today I'm going to kill everybody" sighs. So I called in a mental health day. I love my job for this, because really, the pay is so low that I think my boss is impressed that I come in at all. Ever.
I had all these plans for organizing my life today... I was going to do laundry, clean up the apartment, get rid of the mountain of paperwork littering every horizontal surface in this accursed place, and finally organize the cesspool of insecurity that is my life. Yup, that was the plan. So I brought danish over to my mum's place, we trash-talked certain relatives for a while ("Papa, can you hear me?" "Can you hear me now?" "Good!"), and then we went to "Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest", which really should have been entitled, "Pirates of the Carribean: Orlando's Shirt Gets Torn Off". I'm telling you now, it's a good thing there were no children at the 12:00 showing, because some of the comments I may or may not have made may or may not have scarred some young minds, had they been heard. "Mommy, why is that lady screaming, "Do me now, you elven stud!"? Ahem. Anyway, two thumbs up. Great family fun. For me.

2006-07-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

I have a job interview in 1/2 an hour... I'm totally unprepared. So I've been chugging coke, and I just ate one of the more disgusting hospital cafeteria "specials" (spinach and cheese cannelloni... Yeah right. Placenta and brain matter is more like it.) In retrospect, this may have not been the best move, because between the distinct queasiness, and the occasional loud belch, I don't think I'm putting forward my "best image". Unless my best image is going to involve me vomiting profusely all over my prospective employer's desk. I can see it now...

Me: "...and then in the fall, I worked on some gene quantification experiments for...urp... blearrghh.... BLARRGYHGHGHTYYGH...... pllbbbttt.... sppoot..."

Prospective employer: "OH GOD! OH!!! OH GOD!!! Is that... Placenta?"

Me: "....blurgle... Spinach... [sound of me slumping to the floor]"

Prospective employer: "...Okayyyyy...... Well, we have your contact information... and.... um... just leave, okay? Please."

Me: "Glumph. Thank you for ... urgh... meeting with me today."

Prospective employer: "Just go."

God, I hate job interviews. Well, off I go. Wish me luck.

2006-07-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

Siiiiiigggggghhhh........
Back at work. It's 9 at night... Stupid @$#%$ing time-sensitive experiments. The latte didn't help, apparently. I guess maybe it needed those little vanilla sprinkles or something.

2006-07-13T12:18:00.000-07:00

Sooooooo...... how's it goin', eh? Floobiness no longer reigns my every waking movement (Ed. note: for definition of "floobiness" see earlier entry). No, I think this is ennui, with a tiny hint of despair. Woe is me. I think I'll go have a latte.

2006-07-09T19:44:00.000-07:00

Okay, try not to be too disgusted with me... I burp. I know this is usually unheard of in well-bred young ladies such as myself, (so is screaming incoherently at a busload of German tourist nuns on 16th Avenue, but God damn it! Learn to drive, ladies! Schnell!!! Schnell!!) but yes. It has been known to happen. Tonight, after a lovely, 30 degree day, followed by golf-ball sized hail, and tornados, and now sunny and warm again (who loves Calgary? Put up your hands! Careful... Lightning!), I am being plagued with the most brutal belching I have experienced since the trampoline bouncing kegger. It's my fault, really. I made an out-of-this-world greek salad with fresh (FRESH!) oregano, and basil. Yum. Since then I have consumed about 4 litres of diet coke. When the first burp announced itself, I actually tried to claw my face off. Onion, feta, and coke do not combine well on the return journey. I just wanted to share with you all, my lovely, lovely people. Oh yeah, there was also proscuitto sammiges... (sandwiches for all you non-floobinese speaking individuals). So yes. Good combination, delicious taste sensation, burp of the devil and all his unholy minions. Ation. (it seemed like it should rhyme).

2006-07-08T00:50:00.000-07:00

In retrospect, perhaps the term "chillin'" was inappropriate. I just couldn't think of a one word term describing a general slothiness and malaise so intense, I can't muster up the energy to unstick myself from my furniture. So... hot...
Oh yeah, and Chopin's Grand Polonaise brillante kicks.

2006-07-08T00:06:00.000-07:00

Just chillin', in my disgustingly warm apartment. Listening to some Chopin. Praying for sleep. I was actually considering making a bag of frozen peas my new teddy bear until this "heat wave" is over, but then I thought, "Ewwwww.... Peas." I actually don't know many people who keep frozen peas because they eat them. I think that half of the frozen pea market actually is made up of people such as myself, who keep it around for when they inevitably hurt themselves. Makes a great icepack, they does. Personally, I can't stand them, unless, (and don't judge me, people... My mum is British, and they eat weird stuff. It's genetic) they are mushy peas. I freakin' love mushy peas. With fish and chips. MMMMMmmmmmm...... Pea mush. Ahem. I think I've made my point. Moving on...
The Stampede kicked off today. I wouldn't have noticed, except that they apparently had the Snowbirds performing their amazing flying antics to coincide with the parade... Scared the s--t out of me. I was sleeping soundly, (at 9 am, but keep in mind, I work in research, so a day that I get in before 11 is, like, huge, okay? Don't judge me.) and these 9 CT-114 Tutor jets (in perfect formation! Nice!) go screaming past my bedroom window. Being the rational person I always am (particularly first thing in the morning) I managed to simultaneously slam my face into the wall, yank up the blinds, and leap out of bed. Yeah, it hurt. But at the time, I was convinced we were under attack, and the only thing saving the free world was if I could give myself a nosebleed, apparently. Thank god we had frozen peas.

2006-07-04T23:06:00.000-07:00

We're having a Canadian heat wave here... (temperatures above 20 degrees!) It's glorious. I've been eating nothing but fruit. And ice cream. And Dairy Queen blizzards. I actually almost got into an accident driving home, because the damn thing was melting all over the place, and I was trying to lick it all up. Before anybody accuses me of being an unsafe driver, I feel it is important to point out that that stuff was sticky! STICKY, DAMN IT! It could have got on my crappy car seats! Oh! Oh! Another good rant. My car, which for legal purposes, shall be identified by the time honoured tradition of words that sound like the name of the car... Let's call it... Hmmm.... A Stroniach Bland Slam. Okay, so this car, that may or may not be American (I'm not saying), this "Stroniach Bland Slam" sucks dead monkey butt. For lack of a better term. I hate this car so much, I have renamed it "The Albatross". Because the bloody thing hangs about my neck, constantly mocking me, whispering "My brakes.... They're feeling... mushy.... Oh, and the fuel gauge? Mwahahahahaha..... Not gonna work anymore...."
The worst part of this is that the car is not even as old as me in DOG YEARS!!!! It's 3 years old. I have had to completely replace the brakes. Last week, I'm going 80 (in a 60 zone, but that's completely beside the point, plus it was downhill), on a busy main road, and the power brakes and steering stopped working. Good times. Turns out, thankfully, that it was not the fuel pump. (Did you hear that cash register noise?) No, it was the fuel gauge. Although my car said it had 1/8 of a tank left, I was in fact driving it dry. Which causes it to stall. When it's going 80. Downhill. Which may have damaged the fuel pump, ironically. I can actually hear the car snicker at me when I go down to it in the morning. It wasn't a complete loss, though. I got the joy of discovering that my father is giddy with joy at trying to fix cars, something he knows absolutely nothing about. He drove over with a gleam in his eye, muttering about vapour lock, which apparently is a phenomenon affecting cars built in the 1950s... Then he poured a bunch of unidentified liquids into my gas tank. Then he spent 30 minutes trying to start the engine. Then we went for coffee. Then he tried to start it for another 15 minutes. Somewhere during this, I had curled up in the fetal position beside the car and was moaning softly to myself. I still don't know what the hell he put into my car, but I'm sure I'll find out at the most inopportune time.

2006-06-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

Smokin' Morty is freaking me right out. He just sits there, all... baby like... and smokes! All freakin' day! Creepy little baby...
I think he may have to have an accident. Little ceramic smoking babies should probably not play on the edge of balconies in an apartment building... mwahahaha!!!
Anyhow, I'm sure all my devoted fans (One? Anybody? Hello? It's cold and there are wolves... Aarrrooooooo... Well, crap.) are just ecstatic that I am writing again...
I was in Ontario. And Quebec. I had a funeral to go to. It was odd. A lot of travel involved...
On the plus side, whilst in Toronto, I was taken to a lovely Asian fusion restaurant (Thanks to my lovely aunt!) called Ki. Super delicious fantastic food. Two big, fat, sated thumbs up.
On the negative side, I was again made aware of the fact that I have a big ol' cemetery plot just waiting for me in "the family graveyard". Oh. My. God. Nobody ever believes me when I tell them this, but my father bought me a plot in the cemetery that some of his side of the family is buried in. And thought it would be nice to show me. This can really, really, mess you up when you're twelve. I actually wrote my wishes to be cremated and scattered by the age of thirteen, because I was having anxiety dreams about being buried in this plot in the middle of freakin' nowhere, surrounded by my father's relatives (okay, and mine, but I've never met 99% of them! What if I have to spend all eternity talking to them, and they're boring? Or worse, like my grandmother (God rest her soul), and questioning why I wasn't buried in a nice skirt with stockings in between various derogatory remarks about people they despise for no apparent reason!!). Wow. So, anyway, I was going to take a picture of "my plot" for this entry, but my camera batteries died in the graveyard right after I took a picture of my grandparents' headstone. Isn't it ironic? Or creepy. Take your pick.

2006-06-10T22:21:00.000-07:00

Look at him... Smoking for mommy like a little professional bingo player. Who loves you, little Morty? Mommy does. But Mommy works in cancer research, and makes no money, and needs you to stay little and scrawny so Mommy can afford to keep you (Ahhhh.... irony). So smoke up, Morty, my little nicotine stained angel.

2006-06-10T17:29:00.000-07:00

Who knew $7.98 could buy happiness? I am now a mommy. I am a proud parent. Of a ceramic smoking baby. Fear not, for you will all be inundated with numerous photos of little Morty soon. Now, however, I am going to a movie. In the meantime, feel free to send money orders/cheques of congratulations!

2006-06-10T12:07:00.000-07:00

This is how much of a science geek I am. But first, "BACKGROUND!"
I work in cancer research. This means I am indescribably poor. Because working in academic research pays poorly. Because money doesn't go to cancer research. It goes to important medical problems. Like erectile dysfunction. (ed. note: I have not actually seen the funding allotment profiles for my place of employment. I am just bitter, because I have had 7 years of education and would earn more working as a dishwasher at Earl's. Not that there's anything wrong with that position. But I doubt you need a Masters degree. I'm not sure. I haven't actually applied. But I think it's a valid inference.
Anyway... My points can be summarized thusly:
1) Work in research
2) Don't have a lot of spare fundage.
Anybody who knows me knows that I have a cup of coffee practically grafted to my hand at most hours of the day. Knowing this, and knowing the funding situation, one would think that I would make use of the coffee maker in the office in order to most economically fund my habit.
I don't.
Because there is a thick layer of three different mold colonies growing in the bottom of the coffee pot.
When I noticed this, did I:
a) clean out the coffee pot, run it through the autoclave to remove any chance spores, and henceforth keep the coffee pot properly sanitized?
or
b) take pictures of the mold, and based on i) colony morphology ii) colour iii) physical appearance, determine what species of molds are in the coffee pot?
Yup.
Here they are, in no particular order.
Penicillium spp., Trichoderma spp., and Sclerotinia spp.
I rule.
And will probably be single for the rest of my life. Lots and lots of cats will eat my shriveled old lady body. And they'll all be named Miss Pretty Prancin' Paws.