Kerrisdale Library

Yeah, so it's been a while. Deal with it. This having no internet thing is really a pain in the ass. I am currently sitting in the Kerrisdale Library, blogging as fast as my little fingers will allow. I feel so... exposed!
So what has happened since we chatted last. Let's see, had a couple of family dinners that were pretty fun. Finally made it down to the King's Head for some beers. For some strange reason I had it in my head that I would only stay for a couple of pints and that I would be leaving at such a time that I could catch the bus home. Yeah... one taxi ride later. It was all good though, nothing says Christmas cheer quite like screaming over the cover band playing Blue Rodeo about democracy in the Middle East. It's all good. I've actually never seen P so animated: way to go! Welcome to my world. The volume is always at 11.
What else. Amazingly I have gotten tired of NOT exercising and of eating too much. Who knew? My body has started to crave things like salad, cottage cheese and yoga. Awesome. It's like some kind of self-preservation mechanism.
Spoke to my boss today and she informed me that I have the go ahead to work 4 days a week starting in January, now I'm under all kinds of pressure to whoop it up before I go (what I consider) full time. Stupid work, always interfering with my sleep and my social life. And, as this is the way things work in my life, my former boss emailed me with a work proposition so I will be calling her in the next couple of days to see what's what. Wow, my life is just heading in all kinds of directions!
Also, I received the mark for the last course necessary in my accounting diploma: a "B". Yikes. Ah well, I ended up with a final GPA of 4.04 so I can graduate with distinction (barely) like I had hoped. I'm just glad it's over. If I ended up with a "B" then I think a lot of people didn't make it at all! What a horrid class - see, I wasn't lying!
Alright. I will have to sign off now. Sorry it wasn't funnier, but it's hard to be witty and avant garde in a library, with a bunch of people milling around (no doubt trying to discover Duder's identity!).
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Articulated arms

This blog will be longer than normal today, given that last night was the office Christmas party and productivity was is almost non-existent. Where to start, where to start… First of all, I had the joy of going solo for the first time EVER to this momentous event. Yeah, doing a lot of things solo these days. At first I was okay with the concept of going it alone, but then a few things happened to change that. First, I found out that there were only like four people that weren’t bringing dates. Jokes were made about sitting the single people at their own table, akin to the concept of the children’s table. Oh so funny. Then I found out that the seating was going to be random (we were to draw our table number from a hat) so I wouldn’t be able to sit with the people I normally socialize with at work. Which I suppose was the point, but I really don’t care. I was able to avoid this situation as my boss and I coerced the receptionist (whose job it was going to be to hand out said table numbers) into rigging the selection process.
Okay, so with that potential disaster averted I decided I would go. I also dropped close to $300 on a dress that makes me look like a god, so I kind of had to get my money’s worth. I found out that we were also doing a gift exchange so I went a got a really unique gift that I thought would be treasured and sought after by all my compatriots: a $10 gift certificate to A&B Sound. Whatever. We got to leave a little early and I went home (after going online to find out how to get from my apartment to the Coast Hotel in the West End via bus) to change. I also had a large glass of wine. I changed into my dress and you know, being the demure, self-conscious person I am I don’t often say positive things about my appearance, but let me tell you: last night it all came together. I looked freakin’ hot. I contemplated taking the three buses necessary to get to my final destination and instead called McLure’s. I love McLure’s. I got to listen to the Canucks get trounced by Boston en route. Frickin’ Canucks.
I arrived at the hotel and, since my boss was staying overnight there, I joined her and her friend in their hotel suite while they primped and preened. And used surgical tape to avoid having a Janet Jackson-esque type incident. And then they tried to primp and preen me. My boss “You need to put some lipstick on”. Me “I’m wearing lipstick”. Well, apparently it wasn’t cutting it because I was made to apply different, better lipstick. Twice. And then they put blush on me. And, if possible, I looked even hotter. I’m getting every photo that was taken of me last night and posting them on Lavalife.
Then a rather weird thing happened. One of my other coworkers came up to my bosses’s room with his girlfriend and they had an announcement to make. After dating for two years they had gotten engaged and wanted to tell us before they made the announcement to everyone at the party. His fiancé was practically exploding with joy. And because I am bitter and opinionated, all I could think about (besides keeping the shit-eating grin on my face) was: How in the hell is it that they date for two years and get engaged, and I’ve been waiting SIX? Not bitter, not bitter. Stupid happy couples.
So the whole lot of us made our entrance to the party on the 35th floor. My boss, her friend and I were seated with the happy couple, another couple and I sat next to one of the other “singles”: the guy that actually got me my current job. He is quite an attractive, smart and witty guy and had just returned from England where he was visiting his most recent romantic interest. And I thought North Van was far. So we chatted and had dinner while I pondered my failed romantic life and then it was time for the gift exchange! For those of you unfamiliar, the concept is that when your name is drawn you can either “steal” a present that someone else has picked (and opened), or you can select from the remaining unopened presents. It happened that they guy before me had picked a robot! A robot with articulated arm movement! My name was called and, before this poor guy could make it back to his table, I took the robot from him. He was crushed. I think a lot of people were surprised by my ruthlessness. They clearly know me not. Another rule of the game is that the same present can only be stolen three times. And then it happened: someone stole the robot from me. I was heartbroken. Articulated arm movement! And it could walk and its eyes lit up! So it was decided amongst the people at the table that they would get the robot back for me. Eventually my attractive, witty friend’s name was called and he stole the robot and gave it to me. Happy times!
Let’s see, some more drinking, some mingling and then the CEO of the company asked how I was getting home and I said I would take a cab. He knew that the CFO (whose wife was the designated driver of the two) would be going past my place and so kind of arranged that I would get a lift with them. Well, that was great but I wasn’t quite ready to leave, and also I was kind of tipsy and didn’t relish the thought of a twenty minute ride in a car with the second in charge of the company and his sober wife (though both are very pleasant and nice people). Because my witty, attractive friend doesn’t drink I pulled him aside and – though he lives in New Westminster, which is the exact opposite way of Kerrisdale – asked if he could give me a lift. Of course he said yes, because he is a gentleman and I’m sure he wanted to do nothing more than to traverse half the city with me at 11:15pm, and having to work the next day. So the CEO and CFO leave. I mingle and chat some more and then my friend gives me a lift home during which we talk about all things relationship and commitment oriented. I am such a boring drunk. He drops me off in front of my dilapidated building (I distinctly remember telling him, as I tell everyone, “it’s nice on the inside”) and I go to bed, still pretty happy with the robot, but it needs batteries.
I’m feeling pretty good today, little cobwebby, but I’ll survive. I catch the bus, grab a coffee and make my entrance to work and bump into the CEO and he says, “Hey, how are you doing?” to which I mumble something and fumble with the keys to my office. Then he says “Did M get you home okay?”. Great. Just the kind of question I want to field from the head cheese today. So things just got weird. I mean, it’s not like I drank too much and photocopied my ass or slept with the tech co-op student. Ah well. The rumor mill has started potentially. I feel sorry for my friend who was just being nice and now probably feels weird. How to correct, how to correct? Maybe I can distract them with the robot’s articulated arm movements. It’s going to be a long day.

Frequency

Now that I am “on my own”, I am noticing changes in the frequency of events in my life that were, at one time, significantly more regulated. For example, my blogging has definitely decreased given that a) I no longer have the net at home and b) I may have forked up my laptop after finagling with it for an embarrassingly long period of time at Starbucks in an attempt to log on to (what I thought was) their free internet connection. Yeah, $7.50 a day – plus the price of coffee! But then, what the hell was I doing at a Starbucks anyways?
Also, my exercising regime has fallen by the wayside. I made a brief attempt to resurrect it last week, but that was really… exhausting. I’m really busy! I have to do my own dishes. I have to figure out this “recycling” concept. The garbage is piling up… normally it magically disappears – what up with that? So between studying like a fiend for tomorrow’s exam, working, and my social life (which has exploded for the brief two week period over Christmas, after which it will revert to its previous, wallflower-like tendencies), the work outs have kind of petered out. And oh yeah – I was sick for a week (please reference my post “Snot” if you missed the details of my phlegmy sickness).
Lots of studying, so the frequency of that has definitely been on the rise. Nothing caps of an eight hour day of working (okay, okay, and blogging) than another hour or two of studying. Yep, it’s quality studying too. The kind of studying where you start working on Question 1, and then you kind of lose focus, and finish the last half of Question 2 and when you review what you’ve done you get a little bit worried that you’re exhibiting signs of obvious brain damage, and yet you can’t remember the last time you succumbed to any blunt-force trauma to the head. And my eyes hurt too.
Now that I have only one TV - which resides in my boudoir – my TV watching has dropped. That’s good, because TV really does suck except for on Thursday and Sunday. So I read more, and I’ve taken to listening to the radio (CBC of course). I do recommend Stuart McLean’s Vinyl Café, which comes on at noon on Sundays. Following this there is the great, prolific pontificator Rex Murphy, whose off the cuff grasp of the English language is both admirable and kind of arousing. Oh, and he’s really patient with some of the conservative dimwits that call in. I’d be like “Hey Ted? Ted from Richmond? Fuck you.”
Yep. So that pretty much covers the ups and downs of my life currently. Really not looking forward to getting back into shape in the New Year. Kind of enjoying looking outside and seeing people shivering, with their breath misting the air and thinking “Yeah, I’m totally not going for a jog right now”, and popping a couple more wasabi and soya sauce covered almonds into my mouth. I’m having trouble buttoning my pants, but you know what? I’ll deal with it next year!

I look like Celine Dion

Awesome. So from my mom I received a gift certificate for highlights from my hairdresser, whom I love and cherish. I have had my hair highlighted by her before and I have always been very happy with the results. Yes. So yesterday, being one of my two “days off” (I totally resent that term since I typically spend the day doing INCOME TAX homework which – to me – represents my time being anything other than that which would be considered “off”… except yesterday I really did screw the pooch, but whatever) I made an appointment do have the deed done.
I arrive, things go as normal. There is banter between Lisa and I, we talk about our weight, our dysfunctional families (apparently hers communicates by yelling as well: I am not alone!) and I watch her deride the young gentleman that works there who, up until that day, I assumed was gay. Apparently he is not. Apparently, he is as straight as an arrow like all the other effeminate young men that work in upscale hair salons I know. I must take my Gaydar 3000 to Future Shop to get it tweaked. Where was I? Right, the hair. So she paints my hair various colors and sticks me under the dryer, offers me a biscotti, and leaves me to mull over the critical Refundable Dividend Tax on Hand calculation which is just another device God, or Allah, or whatever Great Deity exists created with the sole intention of pissing me off and fostering the onslaught of a vicious case of ADD and Tourettes. Twenty minutes of trying to drown out the incessant chatter and derisive insults being hurled about the joint (is anyone else’s house of beauty akin to this?) I am pulled from under the dryer and taken back to have my hair washed. The prelude to this involves Lisa pulling the papers from my head and throwing them in the general direction of her uber-heterosexual sidekick. My hair is washed, I am dried and primped. A discussion ensues of how to get the chick magnet’s roommate to clean up after herself. My suggestion to take all her dirty dishes and put them in her bed is met with much cheering and excitement. I politely request that my name be left out of said hijinks. And voila, there I am. I look like Gloria Macarenko, except younger, hotter and blonder. I actually look nothing like Gloria Macarenko. That was a really bad example. My hair is a work of multi-colored, chic, richly hued art. I feel fantastic. I pay the astronomical bill and return home and do what single people do when they’re feeling particularly sexy: work out; attempt a gourmet dinner that sets off the smoke detector; pry my friend for all the salacious gossip that he heard about me at my birthday party; think about how hot I’m going to look to my compatriots at work the next day.
And then it happened: I showered. I tend to do this from time to time. I try to remember the steps my hairdresser took to make me look like a contender on America’s Next Top Model (I hate Tyra). She used mousse – I have that! She used a 1” straightening iron – I don’t have that, but I bet it’s not integral. She used wax… I have candles? After a fruitless bout of primping and preening I miss my bus. I look like some mid-Western soccer mom, like Meredith Baxter with a bob. What has happened to my hotness? What the hell is it that my hairdresser does that is so entirely different from what I am able to master? Goddamnit!
I go to work. My first compliment is good, he really likes it. I say the jury is out, I feel it’s too flashy. He wants me to stick with it. Some more feedback from another coworker: he likes my hair with the reddish tinge, but he’s biased, because he likes red hair. What does that have to do with anything? I am supposed to tailor my hair color to his sexual preferences? I start to bristle, but then remember that I advised to him to let his hair grow because it looked better, and he took my advice, so who is objectifying whom? My CFO’s response is a bellow: did you do something to your hair? I ignore him. Unabashed, he comes into my office to harangue me. He seems ambivalent to the whole color issue and we end up swapping hair coloring stories, which turns out to be a bit of a bonding moment. Cool. The head honcho comes in and asks if my hair is lighter and I confess that it is. He tells me I can’t slip anything by him, to which I reply that one of his subordinates picked up on my hair color roughly three hours ago, so he’s a little slow up the uptake. This may have been a career limiting move.
At any rate, I’m sure there will be more feedback. I’m sure people will be told to take their feedback and shove it. Angry blondes have more fun. I need to go shopping now for some “product” for my hair. I understand 1” straighteners are on sale at London Drugs. Sigh.

I bring you peace, I bring you love

So the birthday was a good turnout. Parking was a breeze and no one was frustrated by it all… Okay, okay, I should’ve chosen some place more accessible. Like Joey’s… ha! Nonetheless, I had a great time at the dinner, though I forgot the remains of my chicken curry as I always do. My tab was picked up, I got fabulous gifts – who but me could receive “The Art of Civilized Conversation” and “The Big Lebowski” and be equally excited by both? Fantastic. I look forward to lambasting CTV executives more eloquently instead of lapsing into staccato bursts of “nationalism” followed by juvenile retorts of “well, because!” punctuated with wild gesticulations. I’m such a shitty arguer, but the more wine I have, the more I am unequivocally convinced that I am right. CTV execs are all nihilists.
Looking at the prior blog, it’s rather evident to see that I was a little down, a little dejected. But after seeing all my friends (with freshly scrubbed faces as I had specifically requested in my invite) I felt markedly better – jubilant even – the next day (except for the mild red wine hangover). P emailed me later in the weekend and said that I have a lot going for me: a decent job; a great family; and a terrific group of friends. I couldn’t agree more. I spoke with CM, whom I have known for a whopping 18 years, last night and I expressed this very sentiment. We talked about being a little withdrawn, trying to maintain that façade of independence and not reaching out when we’re feeling a little vulnerable. I’m trying to let that go now, trying to be a little more touchy feely, saying “I love you” instead of punching people on the shoulder. Hard, with my fists of steel.
I consider the group of people that turned out on Friday night to be one of my greatest “accomplishments”. I don’t make friends easily, and the wonderful, diverse, talented and eclectic bunch that came out last weekend have been selected carefully (and treasured) over the past couple of decades. It made me immeasurably happy that some of my friends finally got to meet each other, and that everyone seemed to get along so well. Thanks to T and Big D for giving lifts to my friends, some of whom they had only met that night. Thanks to the newfie contingent for inspiring me to train for (what will no doubt be) my fastest 10km ever. And to CR for entertaining me by eating half a chili and then running out of beer and sputtering “you can’t tell me your mouth isn’t burning”.
I had the best time on Friday night, undoubtedly because I was surrounded by the best people. I’m so eternally grateful that I am able to consider you all my friends. Please don’t be offended by my stilted attempts at hugging, or my random elocutions of love and friendship in the future. I’m in my thirties now, so it can’t possibly be considered juvenile…

Older

Happy birthday to ME! I am so excited that I will now be able to say that yes, I was still finalizing my post secondary education in my thirties. Super. I’ve never really been into the whole five year planning thing; the only major goals in my life would be to own a house at some point, replete with dog and husband. Oh, and I want to retire at 55. So when I ask myself the question “where did I envision myself at 30?” I really can’t say that I had any specific ideas, only vague generalities. I never thought “oh, I want to be the controller of a multi-national petroleum corporation” because well, petroleum corporations are bastards and also because I must admit to a certain laissez-faire attitude in regards to my career path. I am a bit surprised that I am still going to school (though – fingers crossed – I will be done in less than two weeks); I would’ve thought that a) I would never return after the social rejection and humiliation that was high school or b) I would’ve completed what I felt was necessary before the ripe old age of 30. However you live and learn. You enroll in the CGA, bite off more than you can chew, fail horrifically and then cower in a corner for a few more years gaining the confidence to try it again.
Kids never entered into the picture. I never daydreamed about myself with a family as evidenced by my surgery earlier this year. So I guess I did a good job of not having kids at thirty… yeah, quite an accomplishment.
The housing situation. What can I say? If you live in Vancouver then you know my predicament. Houses in my neck of the woods start (for a beater) at half a million. I’d wager a guess that the average house price in Kerrisdale is $800,000. I don’t have $800,000. Apparently a lot of people do, so I just need to discover where they hang out on the weekends and infiltrate them. This would segue nicely into the relationship topic of my life. See, should I meet someone that can afford an $800,000 house and that also finds me tremendously witty and attractive (and really, who wouldn’t) and thinks that my ragings against the Bush administration, the way the Canadian government is failing the environment, and my liberal views on gay marriage, the legalization of marijuana and prostitution are quirky and genuine, and wants to make me Mrs. Crème de la Crème, then I suppose I would have solved both the housing and marriage shortcomings.
As it stands, today, at 30, I am wrapping up my two year accounting diploma which took me six years to complete. I work three days a week. I live alone in rented accommodations, and my nose is too big. On the plus side: I’m wrapping up my lengthy education! I only work three days a week! I can drink milk straight from the carton (well, I always did that) and leave the toilet seat up! I guess I just have to work on the nose thing.
Oh happiest of happies.

Snot

What’s the deal with snot? What is snot? Why is my body producing so much of it that I actually used an entire roll of toilet paper to blow my nose yesterday? I think my sinuses are broken. I’m contemplating just shoving some toilet paper up my nostrils to stem the onslaught… of snot. I can’t blow my nose anymore because there’s no skin left on it and it hurts. I can’t wait for the CFO to come into my office to review payroll and I’ll have two strips of toilet paper dangling from my nostrils.
The other fun thing about this cold is that my eyes are watering incessantly and they are very sensitive to light, so I have to squint a lot. Also my ears are plugged, so I can’t hear very well. On the plus side I got a very decent ab workout from trying to cough my tonsils out the other day. Yeah, that was fun. People are definitely leaving me alone at work, so that’s nice. The CFO said, “Do you think you’re contagious?”. Well, given that I’m covered in snot I’m going to have to say… yes! Let’s have a hug.
I’m also enjoying studying income tax while in this state. Last night I taped my eyelids open and propped my head on the table with pencils in an effort to try and read about the refundable dividend tax on hand calculation. It worked surprisingly well. Later on in the evening I had some Neo-Citran (extra strength) as well as an extra strength Ibuprofen to try and stem this unassailable sinus pain. I think I actually got high, so I really wouldn’t recommend that course of medicinal action to anyone. Okay, maybe I would recommend it to some people…
So that’s what’s going on with me these days. Snot very fun.