I was obviously Hitler in a past life

I have to have been. That's pretty much the only thing that explains my karma.

After my post asking about me being demanding, I went to my parents for a family member's birthday dinner, and it was awful. My mother was terrible to me, and I watched her needle my father, and I just decided that no matter what, I didn't want a relationship like that, and that what the boy and I had was pretty damn good, so I'd work through it. I'd decided to not talk to him about my demands. I got home from dinner and called him, and we had one of our nice, long, really amazing talks. I told him I was bringing him some of the meringues I made for curling, and we said we were looking forward to seeing each other in the morning.

I arrived at the coffee shop a bit early, and he was there. We said hi, and chatted a bit, and he bought us coffee. We went and found a table, and he told me that he got the gig in Tulsa. I congratulated him, and then he said that it meant spending two weekends a month there, and that he thought that meant he wasn't going to be able to be in a relationship. I just about passed out. We spent the better part of two hours sitting there, alternately talking and sitting in silence, me trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking, and why he was doing this, and him giving me mixed messages. I'd sit there looking away, and out of the corner of my eye, I'd catch him looking at me, but when I'd look up to meet his eyes, he'd look away and pretend he hadn't been looking. Finally, he had to go catch his flight to Hoboken, and he got up to leave. He asked if we could talk later, and I said sure, and then he hugged me, tightly, and kissed my head a couple of times, and then we broke apart, and he kissed me a couple of times, and then he took the meringues and left. I was upset, and confused, and had to go do some schoolwork.

Fastforward to later in the evening, when I'm trying to study for my accounting exam today (again, what did I do to deserve this?) and not being able to, as all I can think of is our promised conversation. I finally sack up, and call him. He picks up the phone, and apologizes for not calling, and we have short, stilted chat about the rest of our days. Then he says he'll call me back on his calling card, and I say okay, and hang up, partially convinced he won't. But, a few minutes later, he does. We again have this stilted conversation about stuff other than the elephant in the room. I take the plunge, and mention it. And we go through everything. I ask him all the things I need/want to know, and he tries to explain. Basically, he said he needs to focus on his career and his kid, and can't do a relationship, and he doesn't want a relationship, and all that. But it is the strangest conversation I've ever had, because while we do talk about us, we also talk about random stuff in our lives from earlier in the day, and stuff that had happened to us on other days, and in some ways, were really, really honest about everything, and it was like our normal conversations. We talked for almost two hours, including a break where he had to get off the phone for a bit, but then called me back. He said he didn't want to never talk to me again, but was surprised that I didn't want him dead, and didn't know how to handle us...however we end up. I was surprised that I didn't want him dead either. I'm angry (and how!) and think he's not being honest with himself and that he's doing this for other reasons (fear of intimacy, fear of getting hurt, fear of not being able to make me/us happy with him being away so much) and am not unconvinced that he won't wake up and realize that he made a mistake at some point in the future, but I don't want him dead. And I do think I want him in my life. I opened up to him in ways I haven't to anyone else, and I don't want to let go of that, whatever else happens. And yes, I might change my mind on that, but right now, that's how I feel.

So, we're going to talk when he's back in town in a couple of weeks. I guess that's supposed to give us time to separate, or get over it, or whatever. I'm not sure that I'm not hoping it gives him time to smarten up and retract this. And yes, that's a stupid thing, and I'm trying to not focus on that, but I just can't. This will sound insane, I know, but I would swear to you that we are a perfect fit, and I just can't accept that if I haven't totally been snowed by him, that we aren't supposed to be together.

And now, I'm left with a broken heart, shattered confidence and a feeling that I'm a terrible judge of character. I'd drink, but accounting takes a sober mind.

My mom has all the luck

My mother's car was hit today as my neighbour backed out of his driveway, and tried to do a three-point turn. He was going kinda fast, and bounced off my mom's car, scraping and denting it something fierce.

The best part?

This isn't the first time my mom's car has been hit while parked on their street.

Hell, it isn't even the first time that particular neighbour has hit her car while it was parked on that street.

I'm thinking she should find a new place to park the car.

The hell?!?!?!?!?

Last night, we didn't have curling (lousy bonspiel, ruining all my fun) so my curling buddy and I went out for dinner and a chat about the exciting fact that at least one hot bartender is back this year, and about our respective crushes.

We went to local pub, midway between our places, and had a lovely time. Good food (deep fried cheescake is awesome, yo!), good beer, good conversation, and good hockey (cram it with walnuts you stupid Habs!). All in all, a great evening. We got our bill, paid it, and left the pub. As we were crossing the street, someone kept calling out "Ladies!" We ignored them, as they couldn't be talking to us. It turns out they were. Our server was chasing us, saying we hadn't paid the whole bill, and wanted to talk it out in the middle of traffic on a major street. She said we hadn't left enough, and she could show us, so we followed her back in, and she gave us the folder with our bill and money in it. There were two twenties, a ten, a five and some coins. Not enough to cover the bill. However, we had a problem with this.

The problem? We counted the money three times, and there is no chance that we'd both count a five as a twenty THREE times. Different values in Canadian money can clearly be seen, unlike American money, where you have to look close.

The other problem? Neither of us had a five in our wallets at the start of the evening. My friend had three twenties, and I had a twenty (fresh from the bank machine) and a ten. And as we never asked for change, how the hell did a five get in there?

We know we put $70+ in the folder, and left, so the only thing we can think of is that someone (either our server or someone else on staff, or maybe another patron?) switched out a twenty for a five, and hoped we'd be nice (read: gullible) enough to put more cash down. And the fact that she'd be all "But I can show you!"with something she had left sitting out where anyone in the pub could access it doesn't prove anything. So, when faced with a five instead of a twenty in the folder, we did the only thing we could see doing. We gave her another twenty, grumbled and left.

What was supposed to be a relatively inexpensive night turned into a hugely annoying, very expensive night. I'm never going back, and I'm ever so pissed.

To ease the pain, we went back to her place and downed a bottle of wine.

Really though, what else could we have done?

And then there were two

I have decided that the main purpose of Facebook is to allow all your exes to track you down again. Oh sure, there will be some contact from ex-classmates, and old friends, but mostly, I think it was created so exes can rekindle some sort of contact.

Of all my major relationships, there are only two exes who have not tracked me down to date. One of whom was fairly intense, and possessed stalker-like qualities, so I'm pretty surprised he hasn't found me. He must not be on Facebook, I guess. And the other? Is an immature jackass who dumped me via letter. He was so self involved that he probably doesn't even remember that we dated. Other than that, all my exes have tracked me down and want to chat. Why? I mean, I know my ex from the 7th grade who is married with three kids is genuinely interested in what I'm doing now, but why is the lazy, ex-bouncer of a local frat-style establishment interested in me? Urgh. The only upside to all this is that since most of them have already made contact, there shouldn't be any more surprises on that front.

But, I do think I'll have to post a new, hotter picture of myself. Yes, I am that shallow.

I'd be terrified of wind burn

I was leaving the subway at about a quarter after 1 this morning,trudging home from a curling loss that was less a game than a total annihilation. The temperature with the wind was -23 degrees Celsius. I was frozen solid, wishing I hadn't ventured out at all that evening, and some guy was using the wall as a urinal. Public urination isn't a good idea at the best of times, but considering my cheeks were raw after a minute, I hate to think of what sort of shrinkage and frozen skin he was dealing with. Plus, there's the whole potential for dripping and freezing yourself to your zipper. Now that's something I'd hate to have to explain to the emergency room doctor.

I adore garlic more than anything, but even I think this is ridiculous

I was searching epicurious for biscotti recipes, and along with a vast variety of biscotti, my search also returned a recipe for linguine with calamari and garlic. Now those would be some biscotti that I wouldn't want to dunk in my coffee. Ew.

Oh hey, did I mention I'm an idiot?

Just checking. But in case you needed yet another example, here it is.

I was invited to attend a girls night at the apartment of a friend of mine last night, an apartment I'd never been too. So, being the anxious dweeb I am, I scouted out the route on the good old TTC four days in advance. Then I checked again a day later, and twice more yesterday. I committed the directions to memory, and made lengthy notations in the memo pad on my cell, Snowball II, all about what streets I need to pass, and what streets I shouldn't pass or else I've gone too far. Yeah, I know, I'm certifiable. Anyhow, I was sure that all I needed to do was go to Davisville Station, and catch the Bayview 11 bus, and the rest would be easy.

(Pause for dramatic effect)

Again, to reiterate, I'm an idiot, so of course it wasn't that easy.

I get to the station, and get on the bus, and keep my eyes peeled for the street names. Note that I'm not looking for the numbers, oh no, because that would make some kind of sense. And my logic does not resemble your earth logic. Hell no. So I'm looking and looking, and not seeing the streets I need to. A creeping dread is developing in the pit of my stomach. Then all of a sudden, I'm at Eglinton, which a quick look at my notes on Snowball II confirms is way past where I need to be. So I jump off the bus and look around, when it dawns on me that the address on the building in front of me is 1787. And, in case you aren't mathletes, is pretty damn far from the address of my friend, which is in the 1300s. I did that math in my head. Impressed? So I start hauling ass, trekking down Bayview, in the hopes that I will be able to get there before I'm so late that some guests might be leaving. After a bit, I realize that Mount Pleasant Cemetery is coming up, and then, I look to my left, and I see that I'm finally at my friend's place. A split second later, I realize that I recognize the building. And I should, because my aunt lived in the same complex. For over 4 years.

That's right. Despite lots of planning and map checking, I got lost on my way to a place I have been dozens of times before.

Later, at home, I check my work again, trying to see where I went wrong, and it turns out that the Bayview bus never even passes by my friend's place. I read the map wrong. Over and over.

Tremble at my intellect.

Sigh.

The Jaded Club

I have an admission to make. I'm jaded and proud of it. But while I have no problem with the way I am, I would like to "be with my own kind". You know, hang with people who have the same tendency for continual cynicism. As such, I'm creating a club for the jaded, where we can get together and celebrate our dearth of hope. I'm hoping some of you feel the same way, so I've enclosed the application package, in case you'd like to join.

**********************************************

Dear Applicant,

The Jaded Club thanks you for your interest.

We are always on the lookout for promising new members to join us in our continual state of cynicism. However, you must understand that we are an exclusive club, and as such, have exacting standards to which we must hold our members. Just being jaded is not enough.

Please answer the questions that follow at the bottom of this communication, and your membership application will be evaluated. Note that we thank all applicants for their interest, but only the candidates who have been selected for a follow-up interview will be contacted.

Regards,

Table Mabel
President and Founder, The Jaded Club


The Jaded Club Membership Application Form

1. Do you make snide comments when witnessing any public display of affection?

2. Do you think that a white knight will come and rescue you?

3. How tolerant are you of the general public?

4. Are you convinced that there is no one out there for you?

5a. Have you ever dreamt of being Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?

5b. Would you punch someone who has?

Complete the following sentences:

6. The best thing about being jaded is _____________________.

7. Love _____________________________.

Pick the most correct answer:

8. What word would best describe you?
a) melancholic
b) cynical
c) world-weary
d) jaded

9. People, as a general rule _______.
a) are idiots
b) are morons
c) suck chunkers
d) chafe my ass

10) In 30 words or less, describe what you would bring to The Jaded Club:

Aw yeah!

I went for a walk today and came back with my first sunburn of the year. Just a slight reddish tinge to my shoulders, nothing too bad or painful, but it just makes me feel all tingly inside. Summer's almost here!

Example #4792 of my idiocy

I'm getting ready to head out, and I reach for my compact to check my makeup. But for some reason I can't actually see my face in the mirror. After a few seconds, it finally registers. I didn't pick up my compact, but an eyeshadow container. I stared into the lid of an eyeshadow container and wondered why I couldn't see my reflection.

I'm so stupid.

I'm an idiot: update

So last night, I pick up my mail, and sure enough, among the bills and flyers for fast food, there is a folded up piece of paper, sealed with staples and with my name and the words "USB drive" emblazoned on it, with my USB key inside.

Thanks a million. I can only hope that if you need it, someone is as nice to you as you were to me.

I'm an idiot

I know, I know. This isn't exactly shocking news, but I just had it confirmed yet again.

I just got an email from a name I didn't know, and was about to delete it as spam, when I read the subject "USB Drive" and I thought, "hmmm that isn't sexual enough to be spam", and then I felt my stomach drop, wondering if indeed it was about my USB key. So, after psyching myself up, I went to check my keychain, just to convince myself I still had it. But sure enough, my USB key was missing. After calling myself a bunch of names, mostly unprintable, I opened the email, and lo and behold, it wasn't spam. It was from some nice man who found a USB key in the lobby of my apartment building. He doesn't live in my building, so he took it home, opened the files, found my email and has offered to bring it by to my place today.

While this does restore my faith in humanity - because, seriously, how easy would it have been to wipe out the files and keep it for himself? Which reminds me, you sir? Are awesome. - it doesn't show me in a good light. I have all sorts of personal information on that USB key. No, not just music that I tell other people I don't like, but I really do, but actual important stuff. Like copies of applications I've sent in for jobs. In the email, he says he found it Saturday. How many times have I used my keys since then? Tonnes. And did I notice anything was missing? Of course not. You know the saying "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to my body"? Well, in my case, it isn't hyperbole.

I really am an idiot.

Introducing Chemical Schlong

My good friend Stormy does this thing on her blog, called Private Part Fridays. In it, she talks about the important groinal issues of the day. You really should make a note in your dayplanner to read it. Anyhow, a while ago, when bandying about possible topics, we got to talking about men who Nair their nether regions, and we decided that if we started a band, the name would be Chemical Schlong.

As we don't know when to leave well enough alone, we thought it would be a good idea to come up with our song list for our first album. Obviously, we went with an eponymous album title. I like to think that when we get to our fourth album, we'll do the same thing, so that people will then have to give their own titles to each of them so that they can distinguish between them, much like people have to do with the Green and Blue Weezer albums. But that is far in the future.

For now, I would like to present to you the playlist for Chemical Schlong's debut album (which you can also find chez Stormy). We have decided to do our own covers of songs, with a few minor lyric and theme changes. Enjoy.

CHEMICAL SCHLONG
Chemical Schlong

Sexy back (Justin Timberlake) Back hair = not hot. We're taking hairy back.
I bleed (The Pixies) A musical how-to guide to injury-free shaving.
Wave of mutilation (The Pixies) A songcycle highlighting hair removal horror stories.
Inbetween days (The Cure) The ugly side of stubble.
Boys don’t cry (The Cure) And men don't cry when they get their back waxed either.
Is it in you? (Charlatans) Poison Control telephone numbers put to song in case of accidental ingestion of depilatories.
Where is the line? (Bjork) Brazilian or Bikini?
Electric Renaissance (Belle and Sebastian) A duet about electric razors vs. waxing.
Hotwax (Beck)
Burnin’ (Daft Punk)

I'll be sure to let you all know when the album is released for public consumption, and of any tour dates.

May I have your attention please?

I was browsing the internets today, and I came across Dilbert cartoons (don't ask) and I laughed uproariously at them. All of them.

Obviously I have worked in an office for far too long and have lost my soul. I'm going to stick my head in the oven now.

That is all.

1-800-MIX-A-LOT

Over the past week, I haven't been able to get Baby Got Back out of my head. And that hasn't been helped by the version done Gilbert and Sullivan style I found on the web. Hilarious. Go watch it:
http://www.mphtower.com/web/content/view/89/37/

"Little in the middle, but she got much back" Hee!