My life's greatest scares

Watched War of the Worlds last night and spent half of it hiding behind my fingers. Surprisingly scary. So I was thinking back to the times I was really scared in a variety of ways. Here is my list, in no particular order of scariness:

1) I was about 11 years old and on holiday with parents and siblings in the Canary Islands. When walking across a tidal pool to get from one beach to another, we had to keep climbing up the rocks to avoid the waves that came in. As I saw a really big wave, I called "Wave!" and everyone moved up to higher ground. Except me. I stood there like a lemon watching the wave come in. So it hits me full in the face, knocking my legs out from underneath me and dragging me down the rocks. I tore every nail off my hands trying to grab hold of something, anything. Unfortunately, I saw the drop off coming up and it was a good 20 feet onto the sharp rocks below. That's when I saw my 7 year old brother running towards me, screaming my name. He grabbed my hand and held on so I wouldn't fall. Very Hollywood. Extremely scary.

2) 16 years old. 1st boyfriend. 1st time. Condom broke. 1st panic attack. 1st morning after pill. 1st vow never to do that again.

3) Watching Fraggle Rock. So many creepy moments. Like the one where Red gets a mark on her hand that she tries to hide. Or the one where Wembley finds this horrible cave. Or the one where the Minstrel moves really fast. Horrible. Stuff of nightmares.

4) Critters 2. I think I was 11 at the time. 'Nuff said.

5) I had a terrible nightmare about a solar flare that created an electromagnetic pulse, knocking out everything electronic. We went back 100 years in one minute. Things blew up, fell down, massive apocalyptic destruction. I didn't know if my family in England was dead or alive, because there were no phones, no planes, no satellites. A year later, I managed to get enough money together to buy some black market air time on one of the only existing satellites to try and see if at least my Mum's home was still standing and give me some clue as to her whereabouts, but the link never went through and they stole my money. Years later, the rebuild begins. I manage to get on a plane and go to my old village. What was once my house is now broken into three buildings to house as many people as possible. I had no idea where my Mum and family was, or even if they survived. Frightening stuff.

6) Back in the Canary Islands, same vacation. Got caught by a rogue wave while trying to swim in to shore. Got tumbled around and around in the surf and didn't know which way was up for air. Ended up with my head half-buried in the sand of the beach and managed to stand up and catch a breath. Closest I've come to drowning, and not fun.

7) Evil Dead, 8 years old, made to watch it by my step-sister. Scariest. Movie. Ever. I didn't know it was meant to be funny, or spoofy. Ugh, when the tree tries to rape the girl...to me it was just sheer horror.

8) Being caught in my illicit relationship with ex-one by ex-two. Until that point I thought that heart-in-throat was an exaggeration.

9) When I walked into my room in a shared apartment, I didn't think anything of it. Was about to sit down at my desk when my boyfriend at the time jumped out at me from underneath a table. I was so scared, my legs went out from under me and I actually fell down. Jerk.

10) Spiders. Anytime. Anywhere.

11) Drop-Zone at Canada's Wonderland, where they lift you 15 floors and drop you. I was so terrified I think I was crying by the time I got to the bottom. However, I was also going "wa-hoo!" so it was more a physical fright than an actual scare. My knees were knocking together for hours afterwards.

12) My Mum tried to get into my bedroom when I was in there with 1st boyfriend. We were obviously making out and he had his shirt off. Although I had a safeguard (a piece of furniture blocking the door) she managed to push past it and caught us. I was truly scared for what she would say...and boy, did she ever let me have it!

13) My friends and I made a ouija board when I was 10 and it told us a ton of scary things. I still don't know what to make of it, but we were so scared we burnt the board and buried it and the coin we used outside of the property.

Appropiately, I shall end there!

Pet Peeve #47

People Eating Chocolate Bars Sideways in Commercials

I know you are trying to show the label while the guy eats his chocolate covered sugar bar (ok, it's a Mars Bar) but honestly, who eats a chocolate bar sideways. It's disconcerting.

Oh, and to the poor shmuck in those Coffee Crisp commercials, I feel for you buddy. I once ate a Coffee Crisp sideways by accident too and lacerated my gums and the roof of my mouth on the wafer. You sir are a trooper.

Working on the follow-through...

MF is trying hard. He really, really is. The difference between last year and this year is that I now recognize the effort, accept that his follow-through is lousy, and move on. Here is the situation...

'Tis the season for gifts in our household. This month starts with my half-sister's birthday, followed by our engagement, my brother's birthday, my birthday and today, our "dating anniversary" (an anniversary formerly known just as "anniversary", as dating was really all we had to anniverserize. Is that a word? It is now).

Previous to this year, MF would hit the gift wall shortly after my birthday. With b-day and "anniversary" a mere two days apart, I'd get a lovely (or not so lovely) present on the b-day, complete with dinner or breakfast in bed. But by our anniversary, it seemed to default to me to make it a festive time. I'd buy the dinner, provide the pillow snacking, and generally organize the damn thing. But when MF's birthday hit in October, I'd do the whole thing for him again. Result: Unfair! I was always one gift-giving or spoiling opportunity behind.

So, I was damn pleased that we can leave that "dating anniversary" behind. That being said...we got engaged on June 8th, so I had already purchased anniversary presents. So today rolls around, and I'm still smarting from the poor follow-through on birthday spoilings (lovely present, but no cake...the only reason to celebrate birthdays in my mind) and I give my presents and guess what...he had already declared said anniversary null and void and didn't even get a card. What WHAT??

However, I do recognize the rapid and well-executed back pedalling that he did (as my eyes welled up with tears that he didn't get me a card) by announcing that he was taking me out to dinner tonight. Dinner makes everything good.

However, I simply can't fault a guy who proposed the way he did...for a while at least, he can do no wrong.

0.5 for 3

The day began poorly with my morning 10.30 meeting pushed to 11.30, which I knew full well would go beyond the 30 minute allotment. Of course, I was due to look at a venue over my lunch hour, and missed the appointment...now I can't get one until Monday. The meeting had the damn audacity to end about 3 minutes after the point that I probably could have made it (albeit late) to the appointment. Great. MF couldn't make it because he was at home fixing the thingy on the brakes, but he promised me he'd get to appointment number 2 at a different location at 6pm. At 5.15pm he calls me to say he is stuck in traffic and can't make it to the 6pm appointment. We reschedule for the next available appointment, July 9th. Great.

The final appointment for the day is due at 7.15pm at a golf club. I leave work at 5.45pm, and decide to take side streets to avoid aforementioned bad traffic. Bad idea. I get stuck in the beginning of what looks to be the worst traffic ever seen, turn around and head up a parallel but alternate route.

Note: I am not known for my navigationary prowess

I vaguely recognize a street name as being close to the venue, take a chance and turn off onto it. I drive until, mercy of mercies, I find the street that the venue is on. Turning onto it, I begin to congratulate myself at my astute navigational skills. I even begin to whistle. I pass Seneca college at about 6.30pm (yes, this is of note) and keep going. No venue in sight. Doubt sets in. I hit a dirt road...any second now, I think. I got down and up hills for 10 minutes, hit an intersection. I can go left, or right. There is no straight option, and being that straight is what I need, I am SOL. The road that the venue is on is no more. I turn right. I feel doubt. I turn around, go past the intersection. Mercy of mercies, there is the street...it continued to the left of the intersection. I take the street, confident that yes, this is the street...just keep going north and I'll hit it any second. The road turns right and turns into County Rd 9. This isn't right. I keep going. Now I'm lost. Eventually I hit Yonge Street and seeing gas stations, turn left. Pull over, ask directions. No-one has heard of the place, but advise me to go to the highway and go south. I ask in disbelief "you mean I'm too far north?" (how could I have gone too far north and not run into the place...I thought I was still too far south!).

Freak storm erupts...now it's 7.30pm. I make it to the highway, my borrowed van limping along in the lightening. I see the correct exit...hallelulah! I am now firm in my astounding incompentance to find a location. I follow the directions to the letter...this road for 3 minutes, turn left, that road for 8 minutes and then you are there! I do as the instructions say.

I pass Seneca college.

I burst into tears...I feel like I am in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone (or a good episode of "The Next Generation" depending on how you look at these things). Then I saw it...a teensy little sign, seriously no bigger than a regular house number plaque...right beside a huge sign for a housing development (which I had seen and dismissed). Hold your thumb and finger up, make them a half inch apart and hold them at an arms length...that's how small the damn sign was.

I will never doubt my navigational skills again. Eyesight, yes. Navigation, no.

Train of thought has left the station...

Ever thought of an amazing post and then forgot it midway through writing the post title?

Just happened.

The thingy on the thingy has major issues

While driving to the ball game yesterday (which we won, incidently. Go me!) MF and I were extremely pleased that the first major thing on our car broke, mid-drive. This is what is sounded like:

*SPRONG!*
*thudda thudda thudda thudda*
*eeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii*
*BONG!*
*chukka chukka thudda eeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii*

Being a girl, this is how I would have described it to the nearest over-priced authorized Chrysler dealership. Since I have been with MF though, I probably would have added that I thought it was the brakes, being that I was sitting in the back seat at the time it broke and it felt like I was riding on a Harley all the way to the field (a not so unpleasant sensation, actually).

Things astound me about MF all the time. After the game, we limped home while he answered all of my girl-driven questions, to which the answer was always "yes", such as:

"Are you sure we can drive with only three working brakes?"
"Are you sure that we can fix this ourselves?"
"Are you sure that we are not going to die in the process of getting home?"
"Are you sure this isn't going to cost me my life savings?"

He then proceeded to the nearest parts dealer, requested and purchased the correct parts, chastised the parts guy for giving him the incorrect size of drum even though the SKU was for our car (mislabelled), took the parts home, jacked up the car, took apart the wheel and went "A-ha!" and pulled a tangled piece of thingy out of the brake pad. He then proceeded to explain to me that the thingy is completely integral to the other thingy working, and that he'd have to replace the thingy with a new thingy in order for the secondary and tertiary thingies to function correctly.

Of course, he did explain it fully, and did not use the term "thingy". However, trying to explain cars to me is like trying to explain osmosis to a dog. I just blank out and start thinking about what I'm going to have for dinner (just like a dog). Anyhoo, he calls up another parts dealer and arranges to have a replacement thingy sent for today at noon.

It just boggles my mind how he knows to do all this. I watched one (and one only) episode of Life According to Jim, where the wife gets stuck in the garage and can't remember how to reset the garage door opener...and she concludes that it's just a guy thing when her four year old son manages to fix the unit. Not only would I have had no idea what the noise was, or how to fix it, but even if I got that far I would have ended up with the wrong size drum and missing a thingy. And therefore I would have had to explain to the parts dealer, over the phone no less, that I want a thingy. I think when it comes to men, I have chosen wisely.

The most industrious thing happening at my house right now...

...is the trail of ants that I've got maurauding my kitchen at the moment. Little buggers. Honestly, what cesspool must I live in to get ants? They're bold little shits too, marching right past the ant traps that I diligently put down. I've taken to smashing them with the blunt end of my swiffer, leaving tiny little mangled ant bodies imbedded in the rubber. Sweet. And they don't die! I go along "smash, smash, smash" and there are still one or two clinging to life until their supposed fellow comrade ants drag them back to the ant hill for late night snacking. That must suck, "Oh god, Johnson! Thank god you came! I was marching over there to get that crumb and the bitch swiffered...wait, where are we going?"

I've also discovered that cats don't eat ants. After living alone for years, I've trained one of the cats to eat bugs on command, but they won't go near ants. Spiders, yes, they will grab one of those nasty, skittery fuckers and sit with the legs hanging out of his mouth until the death spasms have stopped and the legs curl up on itself (ewwwww). Then the crunching begins. But not ants...they must taste bad...not that a wolf spider could possibly taste better.

I just know that if I don't get the Raid in action, I'm going to find my couch gone one day.

Play / Do Not Play List for Reception (work in progress)

Do Play:
Brimful of Asha
Anything by the Chemical Brothers
The Beat Goes On / Switch into Glide
Wonderful Tonight
Anything by Panjabi MC
Something (George Harrison version)
Baby, I Got Your Money - Ole Dirty Bastard feat. Kelis
Don't Know Why
Waterloo Sunset - The Kinks
Lots and lots of Brittney (kidding)


Do Not Play:
Dancing Queen
I Will Survive
YMCA
Anything by Shania Twain
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Abby dee dee doo doo...

It's my birthday.

I feel old. Yet strangely content, as if things are unfolding according to plan.

The title of this blog is "abby dee dee doo doo" in honour of my little brother C. Now a hulking 6' 3" at a mere 16 years of age, he was once a little charmer, a blonde moppet of a child. When he couldn't pronounce "Happy Birthday" when my Mum's birthday cake was brought out, he waited until everyone was finished singing, and started his own version:

"Abby dee dee doo doo,
abby dee dee doo doo,
abby dee dee doo doo Mum,
abby dee dee doo doo".

So, every year, I get that sung to me down the phone. And I, in turn, have embarassed myself at no fewer than four workplaces by singing that to my mother on her special day.

I miss them.

It's hard. You make a decision, and you don't regret it until the stupidest moments. The most meaningless silly stuff. But then you begin to realize that it's the silly times, the memorable times that make life what it really is. Life is just the time that exists between one laugh and the next. I know this is all worth it, being here instead of there has given me more than I could have ever dreamed...a house, a fiance, a career. But then I think of that little kid singing to me, and I begin to doubt my choices.

Abby dee dee Barlet...make a wish.

Celebrity Wah-Wah

That last post that barely mentioned Lindsay Lohan has got me all worked up, so I am devoting a small post to celebrity wah-wah's.

1) Oprah Winfrey: "I'm so important that people must have a store open for me even if they closed 15 minutes ago, and you know what, I'm going to ruin their reputation on national television and in every single press junket I hold, because I'm Oprah Winfrey. Rules don't apply to me. Don't you know who I am? But hey, I keep it real, I know where I come from, and if I can't get a bloody Hermes scarf at 6.15pm at night, I'm going to stamp my feet and scream like a little girl, because that's how it's done in the 'hood".

2) Lindsay Lohan: "I've been famous for about 3 days, and I'm sick of it. Why don't you leave me and my fast-driving, enhanced-cleavage, party-hearty, boyfriend-stealing, self-mutilating, tabloid-fodder skinny ass alone? My song was only used in the credits of the film. The credits!! The humiliation! Don't you know who I am? I starting modeling at age four, plebians. I want to be a singer now. Daddy, have you met any record producers while you were in jail?"

3) Bob Geldof: "Canada 's PM shouldn't even bother coming to G8...we don't want him there. Oh yeah right, I don't actually get a say in these things, but hey. You know, the PM should get off his ass trying to solve things like Canadian Beef embargos, farming subsidies, healthcare, and uniting a country on the verge of separation, and come over here and make me look like a hero. Oh, and then we'll give all that money to corrupt African officials. Yeah, the problem is that the people are poor, NOT that the method of distibution is faulty. That much I know"

...and an eerie sense of calm descends

I feel...fine. Strangely at peace. I met with a wedding coordinator yesterday and am pleasantly surprised. Just being in her presence makes me feel at ease. I would like to hire her to sit with me at work, which would be similar experience to taking a picnic in the eye of the hurricane.

I called Dad yesterday and step-mother thanked me for the present. What WHAT?? Yesterday was truly a turning point. I asked Dad what I should do about wedding deposits. He said to bill him. I asked what he thought of my budget, he said step-mother thinks it's low for the Toronto vendor prices. I am shocked and strangely pleased.

Maybe it will be ok after all.

Then I read a "news" story about Lindsay Lohan and got all upset again. That girl is the entertainment equivilent of ebola. Oh well, you can't have it all.

This week in history

1979: In New York. Enjoying sights and sounds of post office at 5am in cramped 1 bedroom apartment. I can remember snippets of things, Central Park zoo, carriage rides, a Kermit the Frog I had.

1981: Celebrating my first birthday with a brother. I don't remember being good at sharing, so I couldn't imagine how this went down exactly.

1985: First birthday in England...enjoying the fine weather with new friends. Good times.

1987: Cake made by my Mum's office caterer. I guess he thought adding rum to a children's birthday cake was ok. Guests not amused.

1990: Most awkward birthday ever. 13th. Big glasses, braces, crappy hair cut, unfashionable clothes. The worst.

1995: 18th birthday festivities last the majority of the week. Most awesome. Can now officially drink in front of parents. Last hurrah with most of my friends, we are off to Uni a few short weeks from now.

1998: Received diamond earrings from my step-father, who left my mother weeks previous. Spent most of the time wondering what my mother was saying to all of the guests that she had invited to the party, invited long before he left. A strange day.

2000: First birthday of the new millenium, first birthday spent in Canada since I was 7. Dating J, living with my Dad, up to my eyeballs in debt and having an absolute blast. My ex, P, would bring me flowers at my office the day after my birthday and we would start it all up again. Big mistake.

2001: Caught in my relationship with P by J while in England visiting Mum. Yep, that was stupid. A birthday to go down in the annals, I'll tell ya...

2002: New job, new start, new place. Upset that a person I considered my friend at work forgot my birthday. Invited to a party at his parents to make up for it. That night, he became MB!

2005: New job, new start, new place. Starting off my birthday month engaged, happy and in love. Summer doesn't get much better than this. Somehow, it all seems worth it...but then again, it always is, isn't it?

So long, and thanks for the socket set...

You know that I haven't yet heard if my Dad liked the socket set I bought for him for Father's Day. I swear to God, some people. My Dad is simply the strangest man I have ever met. Apart from my step-mother, or as she's known now "She-who-refuses-to-acknowledge-me". Did you know that I picked up a decorative glass bowl for her while I was in Niagara "just because" and I haven't heard from her either. Not even a "Hey...I got what you sent" call, or word sent through my Dad (although if he is denying a present too, maybe I'm just buying them crap stuff and I don't deserve acknowledgement).

My step-mother's 50th birthday present from MF and I was a website. She's been meaning to build one for ages now, so I said I'd do the programming and MF would do the graphic design. This isn't cheap stuff. Just give me a call and we'll go over her specifications. That was in May. Nothing.

My Dad asked what I wanted for my birthday (he fired his secretary, otherwise I'd be having this conversation with her). I thought about it carefully and I said "quality time" with him. Three dinners or activities over the coming three months, so that we could spend some time together. MF just said I threw my present away. I think he may be right.

Brides are weird...

...I don't think I'll ever make a good bride. Right now, I don't care about colour scheme, hair styles, cake decorations, corsages, centrepieces, lighting, guest books etc etc.

All I care about is getting hitched to ma man.

In a nice place. With food. That's all.

Dad bringz da noise...

It was an evening of witty banter, the equivalent of a verbal game of tennis. But, after all kidding fell aside, the results were in...Dad has now figured out that any wedding that he would be only minorly uncomfortable showing up at will have to be quite the affair, and as such, he is willing to fund it. In his words, "just let me know how much you want". In the unlikely event (although you never really know in this town, my Dad is fairly well known) that this wedding ends up in some sort of magazine, I have been told to make it classy and elegant. I'm certainly not complaining, my intention was never to go crazy (i.e. no dove releases, Tiffany favours or Donald Trump style nuptuals), so I guess I'll just give him my "Wedding Scenario A" spreadsheet and wait for the heart attack.

I had no idea how much weddings cost. None. I worked it all out for certain venues, and my god they bump up the prices for the white dress crowd. Eh, well...looks like I won't have to worry about the reception, just the dress, favours etc.

He's also insisting on throwing us an engagement party after I told him that my brother's girlfriend, L, was going to host us one in the party room of her condo and ask everyone to BYOB. It's nice to know that he will pitch in if there is a threat of being shown up in any way. I don't care if the party is BYOB, but he worries that the family will think he is in someway cheap...nothing like that to open up the wallet.

Anyway, the search for venue and date continues...

Simple times...

When I was six, I remember wanting to be a princess when I grew up. Or a mermaid. They seemed like fairly simple professions. The mermaid job description would probably go something like this:

Wanted: Mermaid
Good personal hygiene essential. Long blonde wavy hair a plus. Must be prepared to show some skin. Duties include lounging on rocks and wooing sailors to their death. Cute sea-based sidekick optional.

A little later on, I decided to be an editor. Don't know exactly where that came from. Or a ballerina. I wrote an essay about it actually. It won a prize.

What I want to be when I grow up, by Barlet Starlet

When I grow up I want to be a ballerina, because I like the dresses and I like the steps.

Ok, obviously I didn't have much competition, but hey, that's what I wanted to be. Later on, my plans would focus on journalism, science, television, the army, advertising, creative writing, politics and policing. A diverse group of vocations. Except for the army and advertising...plenty in common.

I still don't know what I want to be. What makes me happy and what I can earn money doing are two very separate things. They say, "find what you love to do and make a living from it" but I don't think the pay is too great for someone who wants to watch Dr. Phil, scrapbook and eat danish pastries all day. Or maybe I've found a niche in the market.

Right now, I could see myself running a little gift shop full of wonderful locally made produce and art, sewing quilts to order. It's funny that we spend the good years, the young years, struggling and pushing to make ends meet, sacrificing what we want to do for what we have to do...and then you are 65 and retired, getting to do whatever you want, and you are old and haven't the energy.

Right! I'm inspired now!!

I'm going to buy a lottery ticket.

Horoscope for June 21st 2005

You will wake up absolutely exhausted with no real reason why. Watch out for shit rolling downhill. Your lunch will definitely be crappy. When in doubt, duck and avoid. Do not try and defend yourself, no-one is listening. Your lucky number is 3.

The last time I...

• Read a book for fun: 3 months
• Saw my Grandmother: 1 year, 1 month
• Ate a twizzler: 1 year, 8 months
• Went skinny dipping: 1 year, 10 months
• Went to a movie and didn't think it absolutely blew: 1 year, 7 months (it was "Love, Actually", incidently)
• Thought about cake: 10 seconds
• Was pleasantly surprised by either of my parents: 6 months
• Said "I love you": 3 hours and 28 minutes
• Got a present: 21 hours
• Went on the swings: 4 years, ten months
• Ate something for a dare: 12 years, 1 month
• Made a mix tape for a friend: 6 years, 11 months
• Thought about cake: 5 seconds
• Drank too much: 1 month, 13 days
• Got down: 2 days
• Wished someone would just disappear: 1 day
• Did a kind and completely unselfish act: 6 months
• Cursed: 32 minutes
• Did something knowingly and wittingly illegal (jaywalking not included): 10 years
• Had my picture taken: 8 days
• Cut my own hair: 14 years

Monday Morning Math

Number of phone messages from K over the weekend: 3
+ Number of phone calls from K over the weekend that MF accidently picked up: 1
+ Number of phone messages and calls from K over the weekend that I ignored: 4
- Number of times during phone calls and messages that she mentioned anything to do with my engagement / me / apologies: 0
/ Number of times during phone calls and messages that she mentioned the dates she is going on: 5
= realization that I don't give a flying rats ass: priceless

*sigh*

I give up, I give in...I'll just curl up in a ball and someone can poke me with a stick when it's all over. I thought this was meant to be a happy time...but no, of course it can't be. This is me afterall, the living epitome of "every cloud has a frig load of hail inside".

I had a brief conversation with my Dad over email today. Here it is:

-----------------
From Me to Dad
Hey Dad,
Just to give you a bit of an update on what we are up to etc (not that you probably care, but you may have a vested interest at some point!).
This is the location we are looking at (see attached for details)...let me know your thoughts!

From Dad to Me
Great place - your stepmother and I actually crossed over many years ago at someone's wedding here.
Can you afford the place?
I hear from your mother that you are thinking of a winter wedding. Don't - no one will come. Hey, wait, think about a winter wedding - then I don't have to come!
There is still time to take the elopement door. Could be more profitable for you.
-----------------
From Me to Dad
Fantastic place isn't it...and no, I most definitely cannot afford it alone...
Why wouldn't anyone come to a winter wedding? I'm sure my mother and siblings have a slight obligation to come, no matter what time of year it is...anyone else who shows up from England is gravy.
February is a very reasonable time of year for vendors...you should be thanking me :)
-----------------
From Dad to Me
Think again, kid.
-----------------
From Me to Dad
So you don't think it would be perfect?
-----------------
From Dad to Me
Ho ho ho
-----------------
From Me to Dad
Ok, I'm a little confused now. Do you not like the place, or is it that you won't be helping out financially?
-----------------
From Dad to Me
1. I will not be attending a winter wedding
2. I am happy to have your mother and I help out financially, but that means that we need to get involved in your financial choices (euuuuwwww!) unless we can just write a cheque and say - you deal with it.
3. I like the venue - it's great - just the place for your mother's big SPRING hat.
-----------------
From Me to Dad
Are you not here for the winter? I've always wanted a winter wedding.
-----------------
From Dad to Me
Tough.

So, it's either have the wedding when I've always dreamed of having it, or have my Dad attended and help me out with the cost.

Rock, meet hard place.

I guess it wouldn't be so bad if he just wasn't being such an asshole about things.

I have truly learned to appreciate the little things...

Like:

• The loudmouth woman standing outside my cubicle for the past hour, yucking it up to all and sundry for no apparent reason other than to piss me off, has finally buggered off. The relative quiet is almost too much to stand.
• I ate a Snickers. It was good.
• Satchel the wonder kitten didn't block during the day. I shall give cuddles in the extreme tonight.
• I got my birthday present from Mum. I get to stare at it all day for a week and a half until I get to open it. I wonder what it is?
• I have the night off from going places and seeing people tonight. Bliss.
• I am looking forward to cooking a nice dinner.
• I think I've lost a pound or two.
• I haven't heard from ex-friend K after she left that first message. 2 days and counting.
• I have a new scrapbooking magazine waiting to be read at home.
• I am looking forward to fetching the mail.

The boredom trail

Yahoo, email, Yahoo, entertainment news, Dear Abbie, The Toronto Star, A&E, Ask Ellie, Hotmail, Yahoo, email, bridal website, Yahoo, friends blog, Hotmail, Yahoo, Most Popular News, another friends blog, Yahoo, search for wedding dresses, Hotmail, search for an ex-boyfriend, Yahoo, bridal website, venue website, Yahoo, another friends blog, Yahoo, Slate Magazine, Dear Prudence, write a blog entry...

Poor cat is sick

We came back home last night after a movie and saw our cat, Satchel, trying to use the litter to little effect. So, we call the emergency vet and ask if we should take him in, to which of course they say "yes" (when have you ever known an emergency clinic that charges $200 per visit to say "You know what? That splinter / upset tummy / hairball can wait until morning")

So, an emergency rush to the vet ensues. He is checked out and luckily, he isn't blocked which would have been extremely bad. He does have a urinary tract infection which is no fun for anyone, and will put him on special food for the rest of his life. Now he is at home under "blockage alert" and MF is going home at lunch to keep him company and make sure he isn't taking a turn for the worse.

I just hate this. I love the fur-lings, and I feel like such a bad parent when one gets sick.

I need a hug.

*Nervous laughter*

I'm 7 days engaged, and here is my upcoming schedule:

Thursday 16th: Drinks with old colleague and her hubby
Sunday 19th: Drinks with friends (potential Best Man and Bridesmaid)
Monday 20th: Playing baseball
Tuesday 21st: The Dinner With Dad (the official "budget" discussion)
Wednesday 22nd: Meet with Event Planner #1
Thursday 23rd: Meet with Event Planner #2
Friday 24th: Meet with Event Planner #3
Saturday 25th: Take my little sister to Canada's Wonderland
Monday 27th: Playing baseball, and my birthday
Wednesday 28th: Our now un-official anniversary (3 years)
Thursday 29th: Trying on dresses

And at some point during the upcoming 15 days, I have to do laundry, take the car for an oil change, get groceries, pick up my Dad's father's day present, celebrate my brother's birthday, attended a mini-engagement party, start a new exercise regime, choose a venue, sleep, eat and go to work.

I'm certainly in my element (I work best when slightly stressed) but I just have that nervous giggle things going on that happens just before someone yells "She's gonna BLOW!"

Various conversations with ex-friend...

Of course, she when I am feeling about as hurt and angry with ex-friend as I can get, a cheery message arrives on my answer machine. "Hey you, it's K! Just calling to say hi!! Give me a call back on my cell, bye!!"

So, one of several things may have happened, ranked in order from highly unlikely to most likely:

1) She is phoning to apologise because she acted like a jerk and knows she hurt my feelings
2) She is phoning to say hi
3) She is phoning because she wants to be a bridesmaid
4) She is phoning because she realizes that she wants to be my Maid of Honour and my feelings be damned

I really don't know how to respond. Obviously, I haven't yet phoned her. I don't want to phone her. But at some point, I'm going to pick up the phone and she'll be at the other end. Right now, this is what I want to say:

K: Hi you, how are you!?
Me: What do you want?
K: Um, nothing, just saying hi!
Me: Get lost you soul sucking harpie.

I think that would do nicely. However, I couldn't possibly say that because I'm too frigging nice. Instead, I'll probably say:

K: Hi you, how are you!?
Me: Do you want to be my Maid of Honour?
K: Wow, definitely! I'll get you drunk, take you to strippers and ruin your wedding by getting drunk, throwing up over the DJ and trying to make out with your new husband. Then I'll get naked on the dancefloor.
Me: Sounds great.

Ok, so I wouldn't say "Sounds great". I'd probably say "Alrighty then".

I think that I really should say the following:

K: Hi you, how are you!?
Me: Fine thanks.
K: What are you doing?
Me: Not much.
K: How's the engagement?
Me: Great, couldn't be happier.
K: Have you chosen your Maid of Honour yet?
Me: Nope.
K: Bridesmaids?
Me: Nope.
K: So, when are we going dress shopping?
Me: Haven't thought of that yet.
K: Oh.

Deny, deny, deny. Of course, I have chosen my Maid of Honour, my dear little sis. I just haven't told her yet. Bridesmaids will be tricky because I will have to flat out tell her at some point that she is being replaced by someone I have only known for a short period of time. But hey, she isn't a soul sucking harpie, so that's already a bonus.

I just realized that I keep too many people in my life that do nothing but suck the air out of me. I feel a cleansing coming on.

Need the joe...

Realized I am now fully java-dependent.

I've never been dependent on anything in my life, ever. Except air, food, water, love of a good man etc. I've never tried drugs (ok, there was one toke when I was 16) and I've never smoked (ok, there was one cigarette when I was trying to prove a point...badly). But other than those minor excursions into the practically legal, I'm clean.

Yet I cannot function properly without coffee. Strange feeling. Until today, I have managed to make it through the day with just the 20 ouncer in the morning. Dark roast, three milks and sweetener. Mmmm. But from now on, I think I'll have to hit the black stuff at around 3pm too...work is just too snooze-worthy right now.

I took caffeine pills once at college before an all-nighter on the books. And a pot of coffee. An uncomfortable feeling in general. However, now I feel as if I crave just a teeny bit of the shakes in the morning to jump start me before work. Yes, coffee my friend...the morning ass kicker.

There's no point to this post I just realized...just a general musing...

Action = reaction

Sometimes I wonder just where people are coming from. Actually, I just wonder what the hell they are thinking. Reactions to my barely contained joy have included the following:

• But it's cold in February - My mother
• Do I have to come? - My father
• *nothing at all* - Step-Mother and Half-Sister
• Oh that's absolutely wonderful *while crying* - The receptionist at my old job, when told by MB (Ha! Just realized I have to change this...ok, from now on, he's MF)
• I'm thinking of asking a vet out on a date - Ex-friend, as below
• *nothing at all* - Grandmother
• I've got goosebumps! - Friend of MF's family
• You could have the wedding here! - Proprietress of Inn that almost burnt to the ground while we were there
• *nothing at all* - Aunts, Uncles and Cousins
• It's about bloody time - Almost everybody

I will post in the blog once (if) I hear from my immediate family that they are, of course, thrilled for me.

I just don't know what I expected to be honest...I expected people to be happy and wish me well I guess. I guess I also wanted to be the centre of attention for a few seconds (those who know me understand that this doesn't happen very often). I also wanted people just to acknowledge the important step I am about to take. But I guess I also have to realize that this doesn't mean as much to other people, it is only a nice interlude in an otherwise boring day...hardly worth recognizing in fact. It would just be a piece of news that makes them go "Ah, well that's nice" before finishing off their lunch or the laundry.

I just put so much stock in other peoples opinions and feelings (I am the first to send a card / wish well on any occasion) that I thought they would feel the same way towards me, but they don't.

It just is so nice to hear from someone who I maybe haven't spoken to in a while tell me that they think of me, they wish me well, and that they will be looking forward to my happiest future.

I suppose I should have a wedding filled with receptionists, cleaning ladies, dry cleaners and friends of friends, rather than a bunch of relatives who don't want to pick up the phone. I wish it was that easy.

But such is this type of thing...a series of happy moments indispersed with upsets. I am just in an upset at this particular point in time.

Don't be hatin'...

The person formally known as friend just shot herself in the foot for the last time.

Yes, she broke up with her boyfriend two weeks ago (for the second or third time) and yes, she is probably hurt (even though she broke up with him) but I think this is inexcusable.

Me: Hey K, guess what?? I'M ENGAGED!
K: Oh.
Me: I can't believe it, it was such a surprise...can you believe that we were just talking about it the other day, and it happened!
K: Great. Well, I decided that I'm going to ask that vet out on a date...he's rich and has horses.

I pretty much hung up there.

Only me...

I have learnt (with some difficulty) to accept that whatever I do, plan or organize will all fall to shit at some point.

Our weekend at Niagara was just one of those events.

Ah, the best laid plans, right.

The inn was quite nice. Certainly not as nice as the amount of money I paid for it, but nice nonetheless. The fire alarm started when I was fresh out of the shower. I managed to grab a dress and head outside into the 40 degree heat (yes, really). Hair was ruined in the humidity. Dinner was delayed due to the fire in the kitchen (yes, really) and so we ate a little later. Everything I ordered had coriander in it, to which I am allergic. I just have to be more careful nowadays...I always thought that coriander was a "mentionable" on the description, but it's more of a staple today. After dinner I had to scramble MB for a walk, being that I had booked a horse and carriage ride for us and we were already running late because of the fire alarm. I was half pulling him down the street and arrived just in time. Oh, but they lost our booking. We'd have to wait 30 minutes. Did I mention the 40 degree heat? So, we wander around the block a few times while I curse wearing my highest and most uncomfortable shoes. 45 minutes later we have our carriage. Surprise is completely gone...oh well. We get in and approximately 20 minutes later we are deposited back...what about the last 10 minutes? Oh, well they are running late. Not impressed.

Next morning, the kitchen is under repair and therefore no cooked breakfast that is part of our package. It's continental instead, which would be fine if that is what we actually got. I am from the continent damnit, I know what is served at one of these things, and no, it isn't banana muffins and cocoa puffs!

Anyhoo, we are back now. It's so damn hot that everything is shimmery outside and the floor has heaved so much in the office that it is like walking on parquet waves. That sounds terribly poetic.

I'm going to be a Mrs!

Oh my lord, what a couple of days! I don't even know where to start, wow!

I guess at the beginning would be the best point, yes? I'll tell the story from my perspective then I will add the behind-the-scenes stuff that MB told me afterwards.

I finished up my fortune cookie post on Wednesday afternoon, after purposefully not putting in anything about getting engaged, it just seemed too trite. MB called me on his cell as he always does, telling me he's at my work to take me home. But, he says, just like Tuesday when he came to pick me up, there was some guy blocking the driveway and he was waiting around at the front instead. So I go out to meet him but I can't see our car. There is a huge limo there, but no car. I didn't think anything of the limo, the boss of the company was probably taking it to the airport. But then the driver calls over, takes my hand and kisses it and tells me that MB is in the car.

Well, he opens the door, and there is MB in his finest clothes, haircut and red rose in hand for me. I can't stop smiling, and I ask him what's going on and he says that he has wanted to do something romantic for a long time, and that he has saved up to take me out to a very nice restaurant. I am smiling and thrilled, how nice! The funny thing is, it never crossed my mind that this would be leading to a proposal!

So, he pours me the champagne that he was keeping on ice, and pulls over a duffle bag. I'm thinking "Oh no, he's taking me away somewhere!" which would have been nice, but I can't take any time off work yet...so now I'm thinking he's called my boss and ok'd the time off, and I'm getting nervous about that. But no, inside the bag are two changes of clothes, my favourite black dress and a more summery pink one, shoes and undies to match! I couldn't believe it, this is the guy who couldn't even begin to match a pair of shoes to an outfit, and here it is all done?! Unbelievable.

So I choose the black dress and shoes and get changed in the back of the limo while he sips his champagne. He tells me we are going to this very fancy restaurant that he took me to for my birthday last year, and so I'm really excited...the only thing better than roses and champagne is FOOD! We get to the restaurant, and he tells me we have to take an umbrella because it's a 50% chance of rain. I don't care, so we check the umbrella and we are sat at this huge table. I can't stop smiling and we have the most amazing meal. I am absolutely stuffed, and he asks if I want dessert. It crosses my mind, but I thought it probably isn't best to overdo it, so I say no and order a coffee instead. Still no clue.

My coffee comes out, then MB's brandy comes out. Then, the waitress brings over a platter, covered in rose petals with a big chocolate in the middle. STILL no clue. I ask what it is, thinking it is a dessert that the restaurant threw in for free. MB suddenly stands up and says "I know what this is" and he picks up the "chocolate" which is actually a shiny, rich brown box, and comes over to my side of the table. The waitress pulls the table back and THEN (finally) I clue in what's going on. My hands fly up to my face (sidenote: girls, why do we do that?) and he says "I was wondering if you would do me the honour of being my wife?" to which I reply:

"Are you kidding me?"

Which has to be the all time stupid response. Yes, actually, he IS kidding me. The limo, the rose, the champagne, the dinner, the ring...yeah, it's all a joke.

Then of course I scream "yes!" and everyone in the restaurant claps and we hug. It was the most surreal moment of my entire life. I can hardly remember him asking me, it was just such a blur, it felt like the world went sideways for a moment.

Afterwards, we swung by my brother's house to let him and his girlfriend know (she may be a bridesmaid, I don't know yet though!) and then on to a patio overlooking the city for drinks. Picked up by the limo at 11.30pm before I turned completely into a pumpkin. Wow. My head was spinning.

So, the behind the scenes stuff. MB had chosen the ring about a month ago. He went with a friend of ours (thank GOD) because he was looking at chain stores at first, who really rip you off with their crazy prices. Instead, she took him to a custom jewellers, and he chose a loose diamond and setting (I am SO proud). Seriously, I couldn't have picked a better ring, and I have never seen anything like it in my life. I'll have to work out how to post pictures because it is GORGEOUS! It's a solitaire in a tiffany setting in white gold. Well, he was hiding the ring in the umbrella of all places, because the box was so huge and wouldn't fit in his pocket. He had asked my Dad's permission two days previously (aw, that really meant a lot) and he couldn't wait to do it! He was almost about to ask me in the limo, but then decided to wait, he was that excited!

So, after a day off work to get used to it all, I'm back. I don't even know where to start. I just can't believe I am marrying this wonderful man. I am truly the luckiest woman in the world.

I'M ENGAGED!

I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged I'm engaged!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fortune cookie fortunes I would like to receive

• Tomorrow is the day that you will not be charged for your coffee
• Your airmiles will accrue
• There is a bikini that fits in your future
• Your wedding day will be sunny
• Your missing earring is stuck in the lint drawer of the dryer
• You will be let home from work early today
• That cheque you wrote won't bounce
• The lock-out will end before next season
• Your Christmas presents will be totally awesome
• A wise man once said "Call your mother" and you will ignore him
• It's never as bad as it first looks

Friend fall down

I have a friend, K, who is my oldest friend in Toronto. I met her at a wrap party for a music video. She was the girlfriend of my now ex-boyfriend's best friend (following me?). I met her in the washroom basically, and we hit it off right away. She was really fun, inviting random girls to come out clubbing and generally being the life of the party. During the night, she and her boyfriend had a fight and we ended up back in the washroom, with her bawling her eyes out and me trying to comfort a near stranger. When I asked ex why he wasn't helping out (her boyfriend, L, had said some really awful things to her, in public too) he explained it was always like this. I couldn't get over his callousness.

The months went by, following the same pattern. K was always at ex's place because he lived with L. Every night, without exception, there would be some awful incident. One day, she ran out of their bedroom stark naked, screaming that he had hit her. I didn't doubt it. I pleaded with her to let me call the police, but she would always back down. She got so lovey-dovey with this abuser at one point that I couldn't even bear to look at her anymore. I was there for every teary phone call, getting physically in the middle of fist fights, the works. And I was there every...single...time she went back to him. She would coo that they were going to get married.

We went camping once, all of us together. Easily the worst weekend of my life. L got so drunk that he pinned her down in his tent, squeezing her neck until he left finger marks. She ran out into the road and I had to calm her down. We went for a walk. Before all this, I was angry, upset and feeling helpless. After this, I was beyond furious...I was into dangerous territory. When he came after us, 60 ouncer in one hand, calling her a whore, I'd had it. I smacked him one. A good one too. I was pushing him on the chest, calling him names I hadn't used since I learnt them. How dare he do those things to her and get away with it...how dare ex just shrug it all away?

When she stayed with him after that, I tried to distance myself. I couldn't take the pain of seeing someone make that mistake time and time again and come running to me for consoling. I felt like a fool. She did leave, about 6 months later, after finding someone else. I broke up with ex and moved on. I was living the high life in the city, she began to settle down in the country. Everything seemed to be going the way it should.

Of course, her next boyfriend, A, wasn't much better. He was good in the fact that he didn't beat her, not so good with the emotional bullying. She couldn't go out, couldn't phone friends, couldn't have a drink. He was a pot smoker, making hash oil out of his garage, a frequent strip club visitor. I was there for the tears, the fights, the make-ups. For the first time, I began to see the whole situation as being exacerbated by her. She was jealous, possessive, manic at times. She would kiss people in bars and then get enraged when he accused her (without knowing of course) of being "loose" and commanding her to stay at home. Her volatility scared me. She wanted to spend more time with me in the city, and I couldn't bear to have her stay for long. We would go to the clubs, she would get blind drunk within 15 minutes, and we'd have to go home. I paid for everything, because she always "forgot" her wallet. She would order a round of drinks and then look to me when the tab came. I felt taken advantage of.

I couldn't stand her lies, her exaggerations. I knew when she would lie to me, instantly. I would ask her a question, such as "so did you sleep with that guy?", and she would look and me for a beat, and then say "Oh no, no I didn't". I hated her telling me that she was on a bus when it was held up by men with knives, that she saw a woman drop a baby down the stairs, that she hit a dog on a road and took it back to it's owners, that she witnessed an accident and sat the guy in her car until help arrived. These stories simply weren't true and I felt less and less like humouring her.

Of course, there were good times, fun times. I wouldn't be her friend otherwise. But I felt things just spiraling out of control. I had a good job. She decided to spend $5000 on fake boobs and get a secretary's certificate. Any piece of advice I gave was never taken. I told her you can become a receptionist without spending $2500 on a certificate, (I was a receptionist at one point) but she decided to go further into debt. Soon, she began to hate her "married" lifestyle. She started on the anti-depressants. She fooled around more, complained constantly about being bored.

I met MB, moved into the country also, loving every minute. She nagged about how I had become "wifely" and that I was no fun anymore. She wanted to party and cut loose, and couldn't understand that I was moving past that.

She broke up with A, moved in with a colleague, cut loose. She had an affair with some guy. She and A still talked and agreed this was a break, not a break up. As soon as she "got this out of her system" (meaning, got all her going out and having fun over and done with) he would have her back, and she would be a proper stay-at-home again. She claimed she would only go back to A if he got her a dog, a claw foot tub and a makeup dresser. I was appalled at her general lack of...well, lack of everything! A claw-foot tub!? She began counting her freedom in purses. "I can go out whenever I want, come back when I want and I can have 7 purses and 3 different types of perfume" she told me smugly. "Oh, ok" I replied. "But K, you know that you can buy purses even if you are with someone?". "Oh, well, yeah, I guess" was her response, as if being attached instantly meant the end of your regular life as you know it.

She got back together with him three months ago. I guess she got her tub?

This weekend, I got a call. She and A had broken up (again). She was moved into an apartment, sharing with a 60 year old woman and her 6 grandchildren. I went to see her for moral support. She wanted to go clubbing. When I arrived she was looking awful. She had gained weight, cut off her hair, started smoking. She didn't look like the person I used to know. She told me she may be pregnant. I asked if it would be A's. She looked at me for a beat and said "yeah". I asked if she had been with someone else and she told me no. I knew she was lying. "So, you MAY be pregnant?" I asked. "Yeah, maybe" she replies. "Well, ok, before we go out tonight and have drinks, which would be bad for you, let's go and grab a test...Shopper's Drug Mart is right across the road". "Well, I'm probably not" she said defensively. Always the drama.

She introduced me to her new friends and told me that I was "upper class", which she used as a derogatory term. Hey, I went through hell to get where I am now...where do you get off telling me I am upper class? She told me she was staying at this awful place because there is room for her furniture there. I told her to put it in storage. "Yeah, but there's no heated storage around here". "Why do you need heated storage for furniture?" I ask. "Otherwise it will get damp" she says. "Why?" I replied, "It's only damp if there's no roof. Can you find a storage place with a roof?" (ok, I'm being sarcastic now).

She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a $750 puppy. She can't afford to live on her own, so she buys a new car. She has fake boob debt and she's talking about taking a month off work.

Goddamnit I want to help the girl, but I can't keep doing this...I can't be witness to her constant inability to care for herself. Never have I met someone who takes less responsibility for her actions. She is so self-destructive that I can only listen to "Why is this happening to me?" so many times before I'm going to tell her. It's not "them", it's you, it's YOU!

But what do you do when a friend falls down? Do you pick them up, dust them off, set them on their feet again? Is that my responsibility, even though she throws banana peels in front of herself on a daily basis?

Living vicariously through others...

This weekend will consist of a wine festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake, perhaps swinging by Peller Estates for lunch. Lots of wine tastings, lazy drives and country vistas should soothe the soul. Then, we check into an Inn on the main village street. A deluxe room with king size canopy bed awaits us, as well as a jacuzzi tub and fireplace in the living room. At 6.30 we go downstairs for a three course meal with wine and cheese, prepared by one of the best chefs in Ontario, relaxing and sharing stories over dessert. At 8.30 I will ask MB if he would care to go for a stroll to watch the sunset, and we will wander down Queen Street arm in arm until we get to the Princess of Wales hotel. There, waiting for us, will be a horse and carriage, ready to take us on a sunset tour of the town. Afterwards, we will arrive back at the hotel, a bottle of wine chilling and chocolate coated strawberries on the pillow.

Damn it I just planned my OWN perfect proposal opportunity!!!??

My birthday approacheth...

...hence my minor fixation on gifts right now.

Yet I don't want anything, how strange is that? I suppose this feeling came about because I am so used to people not celebrating my birthday, or just simply being disappointed. In about a week I'll get a call from my Dad's secretary, asking what I want. I don't know what to tell her. "My Dad's love and respect" seems a tall order.

Mummy-moo is sending cash for me to buy some underwear. I need something frilly and non-practical right now, since my head is up in painting, gardening, renovating...soon I'll have blonde women knocking at my door demanding that I give back my "girly-girl" membership card and my pink high heels. So, no Bridget Jones gitches for me.

In our earlier days, MB tried so hard on my birthday, and inevitably upset me in the process. Case in point: My friend H wanted to take me for a birthday facial and manicure which was really a nice idea. It was my birthday-day, and since MB said he would have to work at his parents during the day, I said yes, I'd go with H. However, I was meant to catch the train at 5-ish so that I could go home. I assumed that MB would want to do something on my birthday night, like cook a nice dinner or even take me out, but he hadn't told me if he was doing anything at all (we had been dating a year and living together for 6 months at this point). So, I've had my facial and am wandering around downtown with no makeup on (shocker for me) and I go to catch the train. I call MB and let him know which train I am on so that he can pick me up at the station. He tells me that he's really sorry, but his parents need more work done, and he can't pick me up on the 5pm train. He says catch the 8.30pm train instead, he'll be done by then. I hang up and burst into tears...so he didn't plan anything! By the time I get in at 9.30pm there won't be time to go out for dinner or anything. H puts her arms around me and tells me it will be ok, and says we should go for a drink instead. So, bawling my eyes out, we wander onto the patio of a nice restaurant, and I proceed to drink some wine. I am so upset and angry, I can't believe he has done this to me! H tells me she wants to sit inside because she is cold, so we go in and there is MB with 6 of our friends, with a surprise dinner for me. Well, if he hadn't upset me, this would have been a lovely surprise, but I am so sad and so angry that I can't even speak to him. I have no makeup on, red-eyes, and I'm furious. Major backfire. Afterwards he gets angry at me for not being more chipper. The nerve. Anyway, I think I've mellowed since, but that was just one example of a birthday gone awry.

I haven't heard if MB will do anything this year, I'm sure something will occur, I just don't know what to expect. I haven't been telling (reminding) anyone of my birthday either, just because I am tired of being the one "forcing" people to recognize me, even if it is for only one day. Let them come to me. But that's another post altogether.

I will be playing softball on my birthday, so we'll see what happens.

On that note: Presents I have / have not given to MB

Some of the presents I have given MB and the reactions I received:

• MacGyver: The Complete Season One on DVD (awesome, semi-speechless, thrilled)
• Leather jacket (disbelief, joy, lots of hugging)
• Box of clotted cream fudge (concealing disappointment, tossed in drawer, what the hell?)
• Chocolate body paint (thrill turned to slight disgust, questioning his manliness, general apathy)
• Lathe (fantastic, how on earth did you get this home, you shouldn't have!)
• Night out at a comedy club with dinner (humour, slight disappointment, general goodnatured-ness)
• Trip to Cuba (thrilled, happiness turned to concern about resort, pleasantly surprised)
• Various books (cool, not-the-series-I'm-reading-but-oh-well-looks-interesting, neat-o)
• Planer (holy crap, you are the best girlfriend ever, have my babies)

Presents that I want to / will give to MB:

• Silver bookmark, replacing the one he lost in Cuba (Anniversary June 2005)
• MacGyver: The Complete Season Two on DVD (Anniversary June 2005)
• Weekend in Niagara-on-the-Lake (Anniversary June 2005)
• A tool of some sort (Birthday 2005)
• Cufflinks (god knows, he doesn't wear those type of shirts...yet. But shouldn't everyone have a pair of cufflinks?)
• Clothes, lots of clothes (Christmas 2005)

Another example of MB living vicariously through my present purchases...

Actual conversation with MB, Saturday afternoon.

Me: What are you getting Doug for Father's Day?
MB: Dunno. What are you getting your Dad?
Me: Dunno. Maybe a swift kick in the teeth. What do you buy for the man who has everything?
MB: A socket set.
Me: Wouldn't the man who has everything have a socket set already?
MB: You'd think so...but he doesn't.
Me: Does he need a socket set?
MB: Yes.
Me: Does he know what a socket set does?
MB: Unlikely.

Ah, 5.48pm, my arch-nemesis....

5.48pm is the worst time of the day, almost without exception. 12.05pm is pretty crappy too, but 5.48pm takes the horkin biscuit.

I should have been an adult in the 50's when 5-ish was cocktail time. I could go for a martini right now...mmm, with three olives....mmmm.

Instead, I've got 12 lousy minutes until I can get off the same chair I've planted myself in all day, stretch my legs and fuck off home.

If I leave in 11 minutes, I get those funny looks...the ones that say "Oh sure, YOU leave at 5.59pm, slacker. I saw you come in at 9.04am too. I'm telling!"

Maybe a Black Forest Martini, with vanilla vodka and freshly crushed raspberries. Mmmm. Actually, even a G and T would go down a treat. Or just a beer. An icy, just-out-of-the-cooler-when-you-are-camping beer. Yeah.

Seriously, I'm not an alcoholic.

Yeah, a beer...in a frosty mug...with pretzels.

Oh, OH and the Leafs game on. Yeah. Ok, so no Leafs game, but a gal can dream.

Maybe a pizza later. Actually, that sounds like a really good idea. Pepperoni with garlic powder, oregano and crushed red pepper, drizzled in olive oil.

I'm hungry.

6 minutes.

Ok, now 5.54pm is officially the worst time ever. Much worse than 5.48pm. I don't have anything to do, finish off, summarize or conclude before days end and I don't want to start anything new because I won't be able to get my head around it tomorrow. So I'll just sit instead.

Oh, I got my new pod yesterday. No, not ipod (I wish), my office pod. I call it my podling. No-one gets it. Now I don't have to stare across my desk at my colleague...nice though he is, it gets tiring.

2 minutes.

That was 3 minutes, but I'm procrastinating now. Story of my life really.

Well, that's me done. Another work day accomplished. Buh-bye.

BTW

The post below was inspired by the issues that Dan Tobin (author of the most surreal "Surgical Strikes" - highly recommended) has with people pronouncing the word "expresso".

If you need me to tell you what the proper pronunciation is...get out.

I would like to add the word "pacific" to this list of words I hate to hear mispronounced, as in:

"I was looking for a pacific skirt, but they were all out"

Oh, really? I had no idea they made oceanic-based clothing. Wouldn't that be itchy and smell like wet dog?

More words I can't pronounce

As if I needed more reasons to have people laugh at me, here are the words I simply cannot pronounce properly (either by sheer inability, or by cultural preference for an alternative)

• Innovative (I have to spell it out in my head every single time I say it...inn-oh-vay-tive)
• Souvlaki (no, not sloo-vaki, soov-laki. I have to correct myself every...single...time)
• Urinal (I pronounce it ur-inn-al, as you do in England, as opposed to u-rine-al, the North American way)
• Vitamin (I say vit-a-min, you say vite-a-min...I get many a chuckle)
• Yogurt (no, it's not yo-gurt, is yog-urt)
• Aluminium (with the extra i...I get corrected all the time, and I recorrect them right back)

I'm sure there are many, many more cultural alternatives involving long a's (bath, banana, tomato) and lots of simply incorrect words (like the first time someone told me they liked my pants, and I thought my undies were showing). Ah, misunderstandings...

Ah, the ancient art of kar-ah-oh-kay

I am fully versed in the ancient martial art of kar-ah-oh-kay. Until this weekend, that is. On Sunday I sang "Toxic" to a full house at Boston Pizza. Stylin'. I was so bad, so very bad, that the song is now officially off my roster. Permanently benched. It joins other unplayables as Crusin', Never Ever by Allsaints, and (can I possibly forget the total and utter humiliation of) Fields of Gold. These are like the Kansas City Royals of my singing lineup.

The only song I can sing consistantly well is "Don't Know Why" by Nora Jones, which is appropriate, cause I don't know why either. Somehow, my "solid hymnal voice" becomes positively sultry when I sing that one. I sometimes get slow dancers. Is cool.

Hell, I'm no Canadian Idol, not even close. But it does take cojones to go up there and sing your little heart out in front of aggrevated drunk people, kind of reminds me of that scene in Blues Brothers at times. All I know is, I'll keep trying new stuff, getting re-humiliated over and over again. It's fun in the most sadistic way possible. Don't Know Why I keep on going....