Not drunk all the time!!!

I know, I know, I am a bit behind on things. Lara came to visit LAST weekend, and I am only getting around to blogging about it NOW... But believe me, if you knew half of what kind of week I just had, you'd understand why I was too busy drinking and moping to blog about a wonderful oasis of a weekend I had just a week ago that seemed liek a lifetime ago.... LARA come back!!!!I know, I know, I am a bit behind on things. Lara came to visit LAST weekend, and I am only getting around to blogging about it NOW... But believe me, if you knew half of what kind of week I just had, you'd understand why I was too busy drinking and moping to blog about a wonderful oasis of a weekend I had just a week ago that seemed like a lifetime ago....

LARA come back soon and for GOOD!!!

We went to Duncan, land of totem poles, hippies and of course, the world's biggest hockey stick. It was so fun! I hereby proclaim Duncan is Drunken no more, it is Hippiecan or something more catchy, but in that vein.

And it was actually nice out!The sky was blue, there was sunshine and I even had to dig out my sunglasses. Yah!! I'm so ready for pedicures and no scarf weather! (Not that that mean that I will be putting away my heater. NEVER!)

We met up with Amaya for breakfast at Floyd's and then just bummed around downtown. It was a fun, relaxing weekend. This seems more like a Kate update, but this happened so long ago now. I don't know what to say about it.

(REDACTED)

Walking with a Ghost

What a Week!

Ever had one of those weeks where disaster only follows disaster? Where everything you touch seems to break ( in my case, it falls… just call me butterfingers) Where even the most common mishap, say a burnt out lightbulb, is enough to drive you to tears? Well, welcome to me week. The days were not counted by nights of blissful rest but of intervals of black space between disasters and awkwardness and hardships.

These are my struggles.

A half reno-ed house that has become overcome with woodbugs. Woodbugs! We spent thousands of dollars on fancy laminate floors to be overthrown by armies of weird silver bugs that curl up into balls and frolick about MY place like they own it? No. I don’t think so. An annoying bout of butterfingers-itis that has caused me to drop a big tub of laundry detergent on my patio; a bottle of body lotion on my kitchen floor; a water bottle on my living room floor; a cellphone more times than I care to admit; and a really sharp kitchen knife which inexplicably "fell" into my leg twice in the last two weeks! An insurable case of dementia which has caused me no small amount of grief as I thought I had lost my mp3 player; my gym membership card; my passport; my gym lock; my hammer and yes, car ( which can happen a lot more often than you think when you usually park you car in front of your house but then one night you have to park it a block away and then when you leave for work the next morning your car is nowhere to be seen.. well, I guess it could be seen if I walked like two steps; but still it’s enough to give a girl a grey hair when it happens at 8 in the morning before I’ve had my morning coffee).

What else has happened?

I almost died from gas poisoning when I tried to bake a pizza in my gas oven. My illegal cable was cut leaving me TV-less on Wednesday night, ( Yes, I know, LOST and ANTM night!! So bad!!). Also, I had planned on getting shaw digital phone so I could call all my peeps whenever I want but then since I had illegal cable I decided to get a telus phone and now I have to get cable so I should have gotten Shaw digital phone in the first place!!! Oy vae!! It’s enough to make my head spin.

Then there is the bathroom saga.

Well, the saga that there is no bathroom. That everytime you sit on the toliet the back jiggles. That there is no door to the bathroom. That there is no floor. That the place is a disaster and I have been living there since March 10! Not fun! Going upstairs to have shower really early every morning! Not fun!

Then there is work.

Work is a saga unto itself. I worked overtime today. Overtime! I came in to work at 7:30 am. (Course now I am wasting that extra hour by blabbing on in my blog; so whatevs, it all comes out in the wash, right? I am starting to feel the pressure, deadlines, ungrateful bosses; know-it-all clients, unhappy co-workers. I swear If I develop a furrowed brow or a single grey hair from this job; I am out of here. Starbucks, here I come.

Then on top of all these struggles, there is the main struggle,

I am lonely.

I have not many friends here. All by myself! (please start singing that Celine Dion classic to yourself, as you read the rest of this entry). Nobody to watch TV with me. Nobody to talk to on the phone with. Nobody! No fair! I miss being busy with fun things to do and great, exciting plans. I want summer and fun and excitement. Not boring, raining winter with it’s no fun gloom and dust.

Yes, these are my struggles. It is a hard road, I've toiled, and it's always darkest before dawn and maybe I am just sleepy and have PMS...

Moved IN!!!

Yes. It has finally happened…82 days after the last big move; I am finally reunited with ALL of my stuff, in my newly-renoed place. It’s great. I love my stuff. I love my place. Even though the bathroom is not fully functional; I love my place. Even though I don’t have any mirrors or photos up yet because I am afraid if I put a nail in the wall the entire wall will crumble. (Sadly not a paranoid delusion in this place). And you know what, so, sometimes the house smells like gas, it’s not going to explode anytime soon ( I don’t think, but just in case, I’ve been laying off the candles for a while).

And even though I am in desperate need of some furniture (high on the priority list are an armoire for my television; a chair with a matching ottoman; some dining room chairs; a recliner, and a desk) the place is cozy and comfy despite its shortcomings.

I can’t wait until everything’s done ( I know, I know, it’s a work in progress; but I am impatient!) and I can’t wait until everyone sees it! I will try and get my act together and post some photos online of my place because I’m not sure when my ex-Melrose place neighbour (who do you want to be? You do have red hair like Dr. Kimberly Shaw) or my big-whig executive lotto girl or the eternal student or the leader of the Japanese Mafia will be able to get down here!

MISS YOU!!!

Nothing starts a Monday off right like Drunk Photos from 2 Weeks Ago....

The birthday boy :)

Drunk girls like to hug.

Drunk girls also like being sandwiched by gay guys.

The. funniest. photo. eva.

Sometimes it's hard being so edgy.....
Maybe I look like a crazy lush but who's that in the background looking like he knows what is going on and is still acting all crazy?
See the rest of the photos on my flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/preetadelic

Love you long time!

Happy Monday:)

Like a Poisoned Ant Crippled by Asphyxiation

That is going to be my new bumper sticker. I feel like that is the state of modern, mature (cough, cough snicker, snicker) romantic entanglements. Not really the stuff of epic romances, we’re all much too cynical and well read for any of that stuff really. But still interesting enough to stop and watch for a few moments at least. Ants are highly intelligent creatures; you know they would make adequate husbands. They work hard; work well as a team and are pretty utilitarian in the looks department. Sure maybe they aren’t the best conversationalists. Maybe they aren’t the guy you fantasized about dating when you were a young, impressionable girl, adept at letting yourself fantasize about frivolous, wonderful things like what would Jordan Knight look like with his pants off and who would you be dating when you were in your (gulp) late 20s. But they are around, and they are fast and attentive and when you do grown up things like work a career-job and tend to the home-stead and milk the cows and paint the barn; sometimes all you have time for is some simple ant-type guy that comes over once in a while with a picnic dinner and wants to watch season one of Beverly Hills 90210 on DVD all night long.

But you know, there are only 22 episodes of 90210 season one and at some time you are going to have to stop watching 90s serial dramas and decide where to go from here. With ants, there really isn’t much choice. Ants do what ants do. Have you ever watched an ant? I mean, really watched one? I have. Extensively. The when, where, why how and really why of that are fodder for a lengthy psychiatrist visit. But, I digress. Just trust me; I have watched my share of ants. When they eat some poison; they continue their little job. The keep moving that little crumb of pita bread along the designated path until their knees start to give out. And they keep trying to go, wobbly knees and all. Then their breathing starts to become labourous. They start falling down in exhaustion and yet they keep getting up and continuing towards their goal line slow and arduously. Sometimes they make it. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they literally die trying to bring that crumb home.

Wouldn’t it be smarter to just head home and drop the pita bread? Well, an ant’s brain doesn’t work that way. It will continue on the path even though the path is going nowhere slowly. It is sad and a little, tragic. But I have little sympathy for the ant (Except that he was poisoned; that is the worst way to kill an ant; but that’s not the point). The ant is so stuck in his ways. He won’t budge from his mission. I am ant: love me or lump me!

So I’m putting it out there: single guys in their late 20s are soooo ants. Stubborn in their resolve to do thing a certain way and to keep on a path that is both uninspired and endless. The ant will continue in the relationship that sees no future and will do so through bouts of un-returned phone calls; messy, loud arguments and passionless sex.
The Ant has a high threshold for pain and abuse. He will withstand the wishy-washy behaviour of flighty and overscheduled girls. He will always be around. Because he has his eye on the goal. Wobbly knees, respiratory problems, heart attacks et al.: he just wants to score. Even if the goal is ugly; like it squeaks through the knee pads of the goalie and he has to mow her over just to get close to the net. That’s his goal. The ant would never be awarded the Lady Byng trophy for sportsmanlike conduct, if you know what I’m saying.

Okay, okay. Enough with the creepy sex metaphors and ant-bashing. What is my point, you ask? Well, my point is simple. Time is running out. We are not getting any younger. So if a relationship is going nowhere; don’t be a poisoned ant crippled by asphyxiation. Get over it. Move on. The perfect match must be out there somewhere, right? Maybe, maybe not. But I do know one thing. You won’t find him by staring at ants all day.

Somebody please help Britney Spears!

What can I say about my girl, Britney? Obviously, something is not right. Obviously she is unhappy. Obviously she is crying out for attention. I choose to believe, and jab and joust me if you must, but in my heart of hearts I believe that this is just a phase. Postpartum depression, maybe? A drug problem? Probably. Maybe she is a lesbian. Okay, that would be weird. But if she needs to gyrate naked with bull dykes and shave her head to be comfortable and happy, so be it. You hear that, Britney, be a part-time lesbian if that is what you want! ( I can’t fathom the notion that she is a full-fledged lesbian; that is just too weird. She was like the iconic teen dream for like 5 years!) Just work though all your shite Brit Brit and please come through on the other side as happy and not so…messy.

I think she is in desperate need of help. Where are all her celebrity friends, now? Justin? Madonna? K-Fed? Even Paris bailed on the sinking ship that is Britney Spears. She needs some real friends and family and fans to pull her back from the brink and get her the help she needs.

It seems like she has delved from reality and gotten lost in the camera flashes and stalkerazzi. As an amateur psychologist with a deep connection to the real Britney Spears, I would say she is showing clear signs of Michael Jackson Syndrome, or MJS. She is detached from her public persona and is unable to understand why people are incensed and worried by her recent actions. She views her actions as unreal and doesn’t fathom the consequences. This is usually brought on my super-stardom ( see orginal diagnosis Michael Jackson and later diagnosis Whitney Houston); a loss of personal connection to loved ones and family members (see Michael Jackson) and an irrational case of low self-esteem. The only treatment, I, a professional celebrity psychologist can recommend, is complete and total retreat from La La Land. ( see moderate success stories: Michael Jackson – Dubai; Whitney Houston – Atlanta).

I really believed a comeback was eminent when she Fed-Xed K-Fed; but it seems the problems with dear Brit Brit lay deeper than it seemed. Unfortunately, it seems like 2007 will not be the crowning year for Ms. Britney Spears. She needs more than just a hit album to bring her back from the edge. She needs therapy; she needs a detox; she needs to leave California all together.

I really hope Britney gets it together soon. She was so fun and cute and real. Now she has become this weird caricature of herself that I’m she barely recognizes half the time. I believe she can do it. She is a fighter and she is nice and she is still only like 25. If she puts her mind to it; she can beat this, too and come out on top; where hopefully Justin Timberlake will be waiting for her.

P.S. I love you HD!

Dear Home Depot:
Thank you for building your soul-sucking monstrosity on the idyllic grounds where my love for bargain shopping was born, K-Mart. K-mart was where I used to watch my 11-year-old friend ingest a four-pack of O Henry bars after school. K-mart is where I bought my first, and hopefully not my last, pair of black acid-wash jeans ( thank-you Gloria Vanderbilt!) K-mart is where I perfected my Ms. PacMan skills. K-Mart is where I bought my first pair of boxer-shorts for a boy (Thank-you Joe Boxer happy face boxers you helped cement a relationship of late night phone calls and furtive note passing in cadets into a solid two week romance). But you know, I’m all for progress; So I didn’t care when the spot formering belong to K-mart turned into the spot occupied by Zellers and that turned into the current home of Home Depot.

You are cunning and shrewd; I will give you that Home Depot. You are big and bold and have very high ceilings and big huge doors that open up for tiny people to walk through. But that is all part of your plan, isn’t it? You make everything so big that people assume they are getting a deal. $30 for a coat rack? Well, this is Home Depot, so it MUST be a good deal. There are no service people around; so that must mean the cost of hiring employees is cut to make the products cheaper. Right? WRONG! Oh, so, so, wrong. That cost goes into their fat pockets. Their fat pockets that continue to plump away while the naïve home renovators try to deduce what exactly is the difference between a seesaw hinge and a teeter hinge (I kid you not, two ‘official’ names for two very different types of hinges at the blood-sucking HD).

But you know what Home Depot? Despite my distaste for your conglomerate, big-box marketing plan; I cannot resist you. You are a big, overpriced eyesore; but you are open late, have almost everything I need; have those convenient automatic checkouts (that give cash-back! Sweet), and offer me spacious roaming grounds to buy more overpriced, over-ambitious tools and project kits that will never make any sense but at least you have a good return policy!

Home Depot, I know you are bad. You are the Wal-Mart of home renovations. But, I just can’t seem to get enough. You give me hope that my place will one day come together. You let me saw things and I don’t even have to buy them if I make ‘a mistake.’ You let me take as many paint samples as I want and poke and nudge as many displays as I please. You let me play on the dream computer a I build my model kitchen. You let me pretend I am the pizza delivery guy knocking when I am deciding which door I want.

You made me love you, and I hate myself for it! Home Depot, I wish I could quit you! But I can’t so, I’ll see you tonight!

XOX