Monday, January 31, 2005

James, This is for You.

If I had known that my loyal readers were waiting with baited breath for a posting I would have sucked it up and found my way to a computer sooner. I don't have a computer at home right now as I have moved, so I am at Jay's using his for reasons that I will disclose in a moment. Before I get in to all the 'drama' I'll get to the good news, which is that I got 3 amazing hours with our Sally on Saturday, which, yes, included the requisite pool-game-in-a-sketch-pool-hall, which of course she whipped my butt at. I *heart* Sally!

So things here are not very good. Specifically, things at work are not very good. In fact horrible. In a nutshell, all the "don't worry, I'll take care of it" promises of helping with moving and settling in expenses have been reneged. Like "Melissa, I'm not in the moving business. I'm not a mover." Ummm...well, part of asking someone to move across the country for a job involves moving expenses. And I tried to get it in writing, but didn't want to push too much and offend him, what with us being family. Obviously a fat mistake on my part, but I'll take that as a learning experience and take a CYA more insistant approach in the future.

What I can not take is going in to work every day to be berated, belittled, constantly condescended to and expected to compromise my professional and personal integrity. On a daily basis. All of which is followed up by being mocked and sneered at when I have a perfectly natural emotional respose. It's not just me being all fragile either, I have not been there one day that there hasn't been someone in tears. My boss is like an abusive boyfriend that courts you with gifts and promises of a beautiful future and suddenly starts kicking the shit out of you without explanation. It would suck in a normal situation, it extra sucks coming from a family member. Particularly one who gave a big speech at our reunion about the importance of family. Not that expect special treatment, just to be treated with a modicum of respect. I
don't think it's appropriate to go in to details here, but I'll give them to you personally.

I was going to try to suck it up until I found something else, but it is out of control and I won't subject myself to it anymore. What, because I'm family I should put up with this? Am I supposed to say "Thanks for the opportunity!" and touch my toes while I'm getting f@*ked? I can't and won't do it. I've put up with a lot of shit from a lot of people in the interest of not rocking the boat, but I did not leave everyone I know and love and relocate across the country to have my self worth smashed 45 hrs. a week. Note to future employers and cousins:

If you think you can have my diginity and self respect for the price of a budget one way flight and shipping a few boxes, you are wrong.

So the reason I have computer access right now to blog this is that I am at Jay's using his computer to write my letter of resignation. Which is hard. I am waffling between a Nixon style "I hearby resign as President" (but replace President with Whipping Girl) and a wordy explanation like the one contained herein. Not that it would matter. I don't expect my final words to be heard any more that the last 3 weeks worth.

I'm not quite ready to hit my parents up for a ticket home. I am going to try to give Montreal a shot, I can't let this one bad experience taint the whole place for me. There has to be something here for a non-bilingual girl. If anyone knows of anything I would appreciate a heads up.

That's about the size of it. Sorry it's taken so long to post, it's been a hellacious week. On a "get over yourself Mel, the whole frigging world is not about you" note, I just talked to my Dad and my stepmom is quite ill, and as I am so far away I am feeling really worried and powerless, so any of you that are inclined to such things as prayer, sending out good thoughts etc., a little energy in her direction would be much appreciated.

Ok, no more procrastinating. I have a letter to write.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Near Brushes With Frostbite

I had to do a little shopping after work today - the footwwear situation is critical - so I went to St. Laurent after work in search of the elusive Diesel Porrima. I found 1 pair at Soho, which was unfortunately a) tan and black and b) size 10. I'm looking for a for a plain black or orange/black 8.5. Hopes dashed, I thought I'd check out the boutique scene, then catch a bus home. Unfortunately buses don't run very often here, and even if they did I am unfamiliar with the routes and schedules, so I just kept walking and deeking in to shops when the cold got to be too much. The weather report said it was -23, which I can handle, but this was way beyond anything the last 2 weeks has offered up. I had a 20 minute cell phone chat with my Aunt and Granny in Pharmaprix (Shopper's) which warmed me up nicely, then had to stop 6 blocks later at Tim Horton's to re-warm. At this point I layered my angora gloves inside of my Thinsulate lined leather gloves. I was breathing through 2 layers of scarf and ice crystals were forming on my eyelashes and nose hairs. Frozen boogers, nice. At this point I was at Mont-Royal, so I figured I may as well walk home. Many warm up/browse stops later I got home. It took 2 minutes to get the key to turn in the frozen lock, by which point my thighs were solid ice. Ran upstairs to pee, and the toilet wouldn't flush. I found the explination on the kitchen table:

We're gone! We don't have cold water because it's -40c and the pipes are frozen, welcome to Quebec.

Yes, I know, I am an idiot for walking 20 blocks in -40c cold. Aside from the sure-to-be-pending pnuemonia I am faced with some very serious and immediate problems:

1) If the cold water pipes are frozen, are the outgoing pipes frozen too? Specifically, if I fill the toilet tank with water and flush it will it do down the pipes or flood the floor?

2) How the crap am I supposed to have a shower with nothing but scalding hot water?

Now, I've lived in my share of ghettotastic slums - see last apartment in Vancouver - but the problem is usually no HOT water. This is all new territory.

I just had to add a new layer of clothes, my outfit now consists of: red flannel cow pyjama's under sweatpants, tank top under wool cowl neck sweater under mid-thigh length cable knit belted cardigan, socks and flip flops. I am seriously considering a touque. Hot to death!

I think it's safe to say that I am bailing on my co-workers birthday tonight, not that the apartment is much warmer than the outdoors. But at least here I can warm my heart with Baywatch.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Kitty Scorned

Alternate title: Melissa And The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s)

You see those stories on the news about old couples cornered in their bathrooms by a raging demonic cat, I believe I even saw one where the man died, but I for one have always been sceptical. How much terror can 8 - 13 lbs. of fur really impart? Well, I learned a little lesson in feline behavior last night, and I think it's fair to say I will never underestimate the power of a territorial cat again.

My cat Griffin and I have been staying at with friends for almost 2 weeks. In that time, their much smaller, much quieter, much less social cat Maya has been at with of their parents. Yesterday Maya came home. To say she was unenthused about another cat in the premesis is a larger understatement than saying George W. Bush ain't too good with the words. She went absolutely ape shit, attacking Griffin, my feet (and eventually making a flying attempt at my torso/face) and the boys if we came within 10 feet of her. Obviously I locked Griffin in 1 room, but that didn't calm her. Around 1:30 am she had us cornered, me in the bathroom, JP in the kitchen, Jay in the bed, all of us afraid to move, Maya in the middle. It took 2 boys, 2 blankets and several pairs of mittens to corral her in to her carrier, where she spent the night. There was no way any of us were going to risk spending time with her on the loose while she was freaked out about Griffin being here, so this morning I had to find somewhere to board him for a few days until I figure things out. The only place I could find was a vets office, where he was immediately subjected to the indignity of an anal thermometer, so you can imagine how great I feel about that. All this on top of the fact that I had quite possibly the worst work day on record yesterday and had already spent a good part of the day crying. I know, insert violin solo here.

I sucked it up and went to work after dropping Griffin at the vet. I had to wait a long time at the Metro station for my connecting bus, and was approached by the man standing next to me. Anyone who has ever heard the stories about the crazies that are drawn to me can probably guess the content of the following conversation:

Him: Excuse me, do you speaking English?
Me: Um, yes.
Him: Where do you live?
Me: I'm staying with friends.
Him: So you don't live alone?
Me: No. (at this point I am thinking, oh crap, here we go again. And there was no one else around. Not so comfortable)
Him: Oh, I have just moved here from Syria. I am an engineer.
Me (trying to act uninterested): Oh....
Him (getting uncomfortable close): I would like to be make you my friends.
Me: Ahhhhhh......
Him: What do you think?
Me: I'm pretty goood for friends now, thanks.
Him: What are you say?
Me: (silent, looking for bus, trying to think of an out)
Him: I could love you and kiss you and maybe after a few months make us get married.
Me (flashing back to a VERY similar conversation with a security guard who wanted to take me back to India and give me gold, but I had to go to his trailer under the bridge first) : I don't think my (note: fake) boyfriend would like that very much.
Him: Oh. I want to meet a woman here, it is very different that in Syria, I think both ways is bad. Here is bad, Syria is bad. In Syria if I want to take a girl out, her brother of father comes. Here, you can take a girl to her apartment and be alone.
Me: Good luck with that.

For the next 5 minutes he droned on about the difference in dating practices in Syria, how crappy our additive laden oil is, how lush and fresh Syria is, all of which would have been sort of interesting if I hadn't been A) sort of creeped out and B) Fricking freezing. So I damn near jumped in front of a passing cab and paid $7 to get to work, rather that risking sharing a seat on the bus with my new would-be-boyfriend. As you can imagine, I was a less than happy camper when I got to work, and I had to endure sever rounds of, "Cat went crazy? Never heard that one!" from co-workers who thought I was just being a baby and didn't want to come in after my craptastic day before.

I need a hug.

Monday, January 17, 2005

A Whole New Level of Low

I've officially hit a new personal low. In my own defense, I have been sort of on my own here, and due to extreme frigging coldness and tiredness, sort of housebound. It's no excuse. I'm just saying. I never thought I'd own up to such a thing, and given the fact that I acknowledged long ago that I'll probably die cold and alone I am more than a little suprised at myself for even bothering. But I'm bored, and the internet is all I've had to fill my nights. That's right.

I'm on Lava Life.

Now before all you Lava Lifers get all defensive, let me make something clear. My general reprehension for internet dating is not so much a judgement call on those who do, just more something I NEVER thought I'd do myself. It's to do with the ill memory of the whole Stalkster debacle combined with the horror of revealing to the general populace that I am indeed average (or worse, owning up to being a few extra pounds). Plus, well, yeah, there is sort of a sketch factor to it.

Don't worry, it's only the Dating section, I'm not trolling the Serious Relationship or Intimate Encounters waters. Yet (kidding). And it's pretty clear that I am looking more for music dorks to show me around town than actual 'dating' per se. Whatever. For those of you that are unfamilair with the whole Lavathang, you can express interest by sending people 'smiles', which are free, or by sending an email or instant message, which cost. As I don't have a credit card with which to purchase message credits, I am sort of relegated to smile purgatory, and at the mercy of the lads for any further contact. And as the LavaLife cheap bastard quotient seems to be on par with the flesh and blood dating world, it's safe to say I'm getting more smiles than messages. But a few of them smile senders have been doozies! First was a Baily69, whose photo featured a large n' chachi gold chain and who is a self proclaimed 'metro sexual'. Um, no self respecting metrosexual would a) be so juvenile as to use 69 in their screen name, b) wear a honking gold chain or c) put a space in metrosexual. But Baily69 is a damn catch compared to Lady_Cab_Driver, whose intro line reads something like "can I take you for a ride?". thanks, I'D rather walk. One of those rare cases where 3rd class driving certainly does not beat 1st class walking. I'm pretty sure posting pictures off of LavaLife is against the rules, so if you want to check these winners\weiners out, you'll either have to get yourselves LavaLife accounts, or email me so I can send them to you. Which is probably also against the rules. Come to think of it, this whole blog entry most likey is. Ehhhh....oh well.

The absolute worst part of it all? It's so frick fracking addictive! Seriously. I can't stop checking my account for new smiles and messages. I don't particularly care who sent them, I'm sort of a lackadasical LavaLifer and don't really expect anyone smashing to show up in my inbox. It's just sadly affirming to see a number next to those little smiley face and envelope icons. It's in danger of taking over what shreds of self esteem I can profess to posess. Digits next to smile icon = happy. Big fat 0 next to icon = no one will ever love me again. I realize how fully 'tard that is given that I already said I'm only looking for buddies. It's a stupid girl thing. And I hope I get it under control before Lady_Cab_Driver starts to look good.

Of course I can always count on Michelle to serve up a fat dish of blunt in-your-faceness. She's not buying the bored and lonely thing. In her own words:

You are so full of it. Nate gave you how many email addresses and phone
numbers of cool people who can show you around/be your music dork buddy?
You were just looking for a hot piece of poutine-flavoured-cab-drivin' ass,
and you know it!

She may not be entirely wrong. Thanks Michellio for keeping it real.

Friday, January 14, 2005

My Apologies to Mr. Ed

Long story short. Looking for sausage. Get your head out of the frick fracking gutter. The spicy kind. For pasta. I know enough French to recognize words like miel, and I don't want no damn honey in my meat. And all the sausages were a weird pale hue. So I grabbed the thing that looked closest to chørizo and decided to go with it. Dinner was looking good, until I noticed the lable on the meat package. Viende Chevaline. Ummm....familiar. So I'd it. Sure enough.....equine meat! Ewwwwwwwwwww! I was so grossed out. I love horses. I was obsessed as a child. I vowed never to eat them. I felt terrible. Until I thought about it a bit. Has a cow ever bitten, chased, kicked or thrown me over a fence. No. Has a horse? Several of them. My bias is so unfair. Not that I'm going to be buying it again, it was sort of light and fluffy, but I feel a little less bad about it. Though I will take a French buddy or a French/English dictionary with me next time I sausage shop.

Oh, a little late, but birthday shout outs to our best hope for a skating medal in 2010. Toby, you are in my wallet. For always. Get James to give you a hug for me. Happy Birthday Duder!!!!! XXOOXXOO

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

I'm So Growds Up!

Today was such a cool work day! The boss and all the sales people were out of the office, so Ren (the other newbie) and I got to meet with a contractor about fabric sourcing and production. Not that I had any idea what we were talking about, but still, it was sort of cool. Until the end when he asked for a card, and of course neither of us had one, and didn't even know the office # when he asked for. Suddenly it felt like Take Your Kids To Work Day, but it was pretty funny. Oh, and Ren has dashed my hopes of actually getting some here, apparently all the guys are as gay as in Vancouver, and the French ones are " sort of hippies." Deuces! Looks like I might have to move to Red Deer to find me a man who enjoys boobs and ....ewwww, Griffin is taking a pooh, that is so gross!!!! He tries to act all dignified, or like he's invisible and I have no idea what's going on over there. I should be so lucky. But I digress.

Oh, a follow up from yesterday, just as a little smack down for trash talking the Metro yesterday, my card didn't work when I tried to enter the Metro system this morning. Normally this would not be a problem as there is usually an attandant, but of course Laurier would be the exception. I had to wait until a kind lady let me draft in after her, then go to the Berri-UQAM station after work to get a new card. The only station you can do that at. go figure.

All right, I know that there are at least 2 of you that read this bad boy on occassion, so let's make it interactive. The comments field is there for a reason! Just please don't feel the need to correct my crap typing and grammer, this French keyboard is besting me, and for some reason the spell check option is gone on the posting page. But let me know what's going on.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Like the Blind Leading the Blind

So yesterday was Fun With Metro ! Day. I had a really shit sleep (I'm talking 2 hours) on Sunday, so when I hit the Metro staion at 7:45 Monday morning I failed to pay attention to the destination signs and blindly stumbled to the nearest platform. There seemed to be a much bigger crowd than there had been on Friday morning, which I chalked up to the Quebecois beind more liberal with starting the weekend early. I waited 10 minutes for a train and was about to get on when I clued in that the destination sign read Cote -Vertu. Which goes through downtown. Which would explain the crowds. I do not work downtown. I work in the fashion district, near HWY 40 (or so I've been told), the Metro stop for which is Crémazie, 2 stops from the end of the line in the other direction, destination Henri-Bourassa. Monday morning disaster averted, I was only sort-of-late for work instead of the the narrowly avoided super-f'n-late for work.

8.5ish hours later I reboarded the Metro to come home. Rather uuneventful ride. Disembarked at Station Laurier . As I was exiting the train a blind woman with a white cane was boarding, assisted by a friend, who irritated me by not allowing the exiting riders off first. The I noticed the friend was also carrying a white cane and I felt like an asshole. Mostly because mt first thought was', " oh look, the blind leading the blind. How often do you actually see that?" Yes, I literally laughed out loud. Yes, my seat in Hell has a RESERVED sign on it.

There are 2 exits at from the platform at Station Laurier. 1 says Laurier, the street I am staying on. The other says something else I haven't really paid attention to, because, doy, it is the wrong one. The last 2 times I came home I exited off of the train to the right, walked the length of the platform and realized I was not at the Laurier side. So being all smarty pants I turned left. And went out a very unfamiliar set of stairs (where there should have been an escalator) , and a turnstyle (where there should have been a set of sliding doors). By the time I hit the very unfamiliar street I realized that - duh - the last 2 trips I had taken had been downtown, so I had exited in the opposite direction. I should have stuck with left. Anywhoooo....I figured I'd just walk around the building until I hit the correct exit, re-orient myself, and head home. Which would have worked, if the friggin' Metro stop were on one block with exits for the east and west cross-streets. But noooooooo.....Montreal is all CRAZEEEE!!!!! The exits are actually like 2 blocks apart. I had to re-enter the Metro system, go back down to the train platfrom, walk the length of it, and exit the Laurier side. If I had not had a Metro pass this little menoveur would have cost $2.50. It's a racket, I tell you. (For perspective: that would be like the Granville Skytrain Station having an exit on Granville and on Richards, instead of the one on Seymour, or the Burrard Station having the exit on Melville, but not Burrard, and being on the other side of the Hotel Vancouver instead. Redonkulous! ) It's a damn good thing the other Metro - the grocery store - sells wine, 'cause Mamma needed it by the time she got home, let me tell you!

I had this whole other thing about Gmail and how annoyed I was that melg, melissag, melissalee, missg****c, melicious, and melissag****c were all taken already. For chrissakes! As if there are sooooo many of us out there. If you know my hotmail, you'll know my gmail. SHOUT OUT to AG for the gmail invite. And duh, I the *** are a privacy thing. I did actually try for my name. Recounting the Metro ordeal has worn me out again. Gmail is not getting its full due. I have grocery store wine too finish. Pay attention to your sortie signs. Take it from one who learns the hard way.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

No Matter Where You Go, There You Are

After a fruitless day spent shopping downtown Montreal I have come to the rather sad conclusion that I am neither thinner, cuter, swanker, nor more charming in Montreal than I was in Vancouver. In fact, I downright fade in to the background here. Just another girl with salt stained boots trudging aimless among the stylish throngs. Sigh. All I ended up taking home were a pair of pants and a shirt I had rejected in Vancouver in hopes of finding something cooler here. Well, there's a lot of cooler stuff here, but it's all for the skinny pretty girls too. Those bastards. On the upside, if I ever shrink enough to benefit from it, there is an Urban Outfitters here, which is better than porn. And we all know how much I like porn. Their smallest sizes look like doll clothes, but they have a great shirt that says " I like getting it on with boys who vote", which to me screams Salazar.

The French are tricky bastards. I spent a good half hour doing the Rainman up and down the same block looking for an R W and Co. that was supposed to be at 625 St. Catherine's East. But there were no stores, no mall, nothing retail at all. Just a big ol' cathedral hogging up the whole block. I was about to quit and head for the adjacent Metro entrance when I noticed a sign for the Cathedrale Promenade and an arrow pointing down. The frigging mall is hidden Bat Cave styles under the church. Finally, a use for a church I can get down with! Not that the store, when I finally found it, had the coat I was looking for, but whatev's.

After the church/mall fiasco I decided to screw the whole depressing shopping thing and went to see Million Dollar Baby. Did not help with the cheering up - great movie, but HEAVY - but I was amused by the fact that not only does the 5 floor theatre complex have a bar, but that bar has a happy hour with $3 domestic beers and shooters. How killer is that? The freakin, Famous Players has cheaper drinks than the diviest bar in Vancouver. And yes, Quebec audiences are just as annoying with the loud talking and chewing as back home. I really wish you could get headphones at the theatre for the hearing impaired. I would so wear them to block out the annoying people noise.

Oh, I encountered a crazy French stereotype today. I actually saw a thin man in a long black overcoat and black beret, smoking a cigarette and doing the evil cartoon " MWEE HEEE HEE" villian laugh. Very creepy.

I had more to blog/whine about but Donnie Darko is on so enough of this.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

I *HEART* Celine Dion

OK, that's a load of crap. Can you even believe that my first trip to a Montreal grocery store she was being piped in, all perky and evil? Quelle stereotype. I could even hear those painfully high and strained notes over the increasingly loud Wilco I was listening to. I started to sweat and shake...looking desperately for the exit....then thankfully it ended. Back to the familiar All-Nettwerk-All-The-Time rotation the chain stores are so down with these days. I never thought I'd say it, but thank God for BNL.

Speaking of music, the Stars are not yet my bestest friends, but I'm not giving up. Torquil, Amy, Emily et all, you can run, but you can't hide!

Brrrr...I just ran to the bedroom to turn up the heat in preparation for bed time. It's sort of a doors closed and heat down unless I am in the room situation, I don't want to be the evil freeloader who drives the heating bills up. But damn, I could cut glass with the nips. Seriously people, it's that cold in here.

It's been a hella hectic few days, I had a full work day yesterday, which started with a 3 hour meeting with the designer and sales team during which I could think nothing other than, " Holy F! I am so F'in F'd when they figure out I have no F'n idea what the F I am doing!!! " Then I had a really good idea which they liked, so I think I may have bought myself a few more days of employment. I bought a Metro pass on the way home, so I have to last at least a month or that will be a huge waste of money.

Not to make my skating friends jealous, but the park ( pardon, parc) up the street has 2 outdoor rinks and a skating oval. The ice is surface of the moon bumpy though, so I'm feeling a little trepidation about venturing out. I'd go at night, but somehow I think girl alone +parc in the dark + plus no shoes to run from the bad men = bad idea. I'm sure it will be post worthy if I make it out, mostly because I'll likely be blogging from a hospital waiting room, waiting to join the plastered ranks of Lefty McDanger. Fleet footed, I am not.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me It Was Frickin' Cold In Montreal?

Alright. People did tell me. A lot. I just forgot what a delicate flower I am. I feel like I need a greenhouse. My hands are so cold I have to jam them in Griffin's hairy little armpits to warm up. How undignified. For both of us. I'm trying to look at the upside of the snow though, there is still a novelty to it that will probably only last until my skin dries up and peels off in strips. The Plateau does look pretty darn fabulous covered in snow, and I love the way it crunches and squeaks under my boots. Also, I' d forgotten how much cheerier and brighter the streets are at night with a fresh snowfall reflecting the light. Puts me in the mood for romance. Oh la la. And dear god, speaking of, this is definately where they keep the hot men. Zut alors!

I'm reasonably settled in at Jay's, meaning I've got beer. Which is cheap and you can buy at the grocery store. The grocery store is called the Metro, which is confusing. Also, most of the produce is prewrapped like at the T&T market , they don't have short grain rice for sushi, and the rice vinegar is seasoned. Either dill and basil or roasted garlic. What the crap is that? An indication that I need either a trip to Chinatown or a care package I suppose.

My hands are too cold to type and French keyboards are frustrating, so that's it for me. I made it. Whee hee. Griffin survived cargo. Whee hee. First day of work tomorrow. Oh God!!!!

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

...not sure when I'll be back again.

This is my final post from Vancouver. Wow. I've had 2 months to plan, and yet I am still massively disorganized, trying to pack and decide what to do with the pile of mail for the dude I was subletting from, yet finding time to prostinate by blogging. Hmmmm....this may be a sleep free night.

Thanks to Carla, Michelle (x2), Hawt Scarley and Dave for the cd's. I *heart* mix cd's. You guys rule, and I'm sure just made my flight a lot more pleasurable. Especially considering I forgot to organize food. Scarlz, I'll do my damndest to find all the clues, give me time, brother, just give me time.

Salazar, by the time ( I mean if) you read this , you'll probably be settled in Ottawa, planning a hostile-yet-charming takeover of Parliment. Best of luck. Give the Bloc hell. See you early February. My potato pan will be ready.

Michelle. Damn girl. I wish you were coming with. Who the crap is going to just get it like you do. Zut alors, I'm feeling a Phil Collins coming on again. Damn you Postal Service, damn you! Next thing I'll be liking Lionel Richie covers. But I digress. Again. You are my base. I'll miss you big.

Kate, it's been a pleasure staying at Chez McIvor. Thanks for putting up with Griffin and I. I wish we'd spent the time earlier, but I'm really happy we got to have it. Take care of you. Then get out there and conquer.

My final words to those remaining in Vancouver. Screw Yellow Cab. Use McLure's 604 731 9211. They don't leave you and your kitty standing out in the cold. And if you sublet, leave a forwarding address.

Alright, off to have a frick frack pack attack.


Tuesday, January 04, 2005

12 Hours, 20 Minutes and Counting

Oh God Oh God Oh God....I am so not feeling ready for this. Yes, in the bigger-picture-smoking-hot-opportunity way I am very ready. It's the oh-crap-did-I-pack-tampons-and-do-they-serve-food-on-the-flight? details that are responsible for the mild panic. Mental note to add stop procrastinating to the resolutions list. I'll do that later.

It's a lovely day in Vancouver. The sort of blinding white snow on the mountaintops and pale blue sky that would make one question their sanity for abandoning Xanadu for a frozen city peppered with potential hazards, like external spiral staircases and, um, ice. I'm thinking I might have to start an Injury Tally 2005, being so prone as I am to accidents. But I digress. Griffin so knows something is up, he's been hiding behind the toilet ignoring me since I started packing this morning. I think I'm more stressed about him being stuck down in cargo than anything else. Poor little feller.

Right, so off to do the final errands, the picking up of luggage locks, film I dropped at London Drugs ages ago, some sort of lunch for the flight.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

New Year's Resolutions and What I Learned in 2004

I have a really hard time with the keeping of New Year's resolutions so I decided that this year I had to aim for something easily achievable, so that I don't start off the year feeling like a massive failure. My first inclination was to go with sit on my ass and gain weight, but Sally told me it has to be something that I don't normally do. Uh, thanks, Salz. So, after much thought, this is what I've settled on:

1) Think before I burp -Those of you that know me know I have what could questionably be called a talent for the rather loud and resonant expulsion of air. It should be noted that at approxamately 4:45pm on January 1st, I accidently broke this resolution.

2) Not to arbitratily hate pretty people - Yes, pretty people make my hackles rise. Yes, it's a dumb girlie self esteem thing. No, this newfound warmth towards the genetically blessed does not extend to their ridiculous sweater wearing dogs. I still want to punt their yipping asses in to Engish Bay.

3) Take French lessons - Sort of a practical thing as I am going to be surrounded by Frenchies for at least 6 months. And I'm going to make an effort to learn more that the swears and foreplay words.

4) Be a little nicer to me - because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, people like me!

What I learned in 2004

1) If you meet a guy and you are pretty damn sure you are not in to him, it's best to walk away quick, otherwise you risk getting tangled in big mess and it gets harder to cut the cord.

2) If you meet a guy and you are pretty damn sure that you like him, it's best to suck it up and take the risk of telling him, otherwise you risk getting tangled in a big mess and your heart will likely get a little trampled anyways.

3) I'd rather have my heart broken by a lover than a friend.

4) British accents really do make an average man more attractive.

5) Stress really does make you go grey. Or in my case, bright white.

6) If you get so sad/stressed that eating makes you barf, and you lose weight fast, don't buy a bunch of smaller pants, unless you can stay sad/stressed for a long time, because when you get happy and start eating you'll have a bunch of too small pants, and that will make you sad again.

7) 6 Feet Under rules!

8) I have given Tom Hanks enough chances, and I'm ok with really, really hating his movies and the blandness and banality of Hollywood which he represents.

9) Everyone should have a little bit of Marty in their lives.

10) It is less expensive to maintain a pet's dental health that to deal with a neglected set of chompers.

11) Not that this is a new discovery, but I have really amazing parents.

11) When dealing with bands, one should always carry a Sharpie. (Even without bands they generally come in handy).

12) Wreck Beach is as cool as everyone says.

13) I really, really love Vancouver and some of the people I've met here, but it's sort of stagnatedand I'm ready for a change.

I can't say 2004 weighed in as either a particularly good or bad year. The highs were very high, and the lows were downright scary. I think coming out of it I'm a little more confident, a lot more resiliant, and ready to take on whatever challenges 2005 has in store.
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