for the heck of it

Just fer the hell of it, I decided to make a new blog -California Coasting - for California reporting.
If you find the reverse black white design too annoying, let me know.

I'm here.

(Please see giant post below for the story of getting here.)

California Day 1. I'm liking it. I really am.

The not working anymore part has finally clicked in my head. Four months. I will be free all day to do as I see fit. Today has been a nesting day. Putting away clothes, arranging things in drawers, trying to figure out how the hell to get out of the maze of courtyards and onto the street. We are living in a corporate housing, gated city complex type thing. It actually looks pretty spiffy but confusing as hell.

I've already started to relax into some little comforts here. Cushy carpet, brand new everything, the freedom to sit on the couch, listening to Boards of Canada and type up my blog with my only list of tasks for the day being: to find our mailbox,take a look at the fitness centre and maybe walk around the "park" with its "fitness trail", which in reality, is a really big lawn with a sidewalk around it but that's okay.

I think I will really be able to get something done here. The comfort will enable productivity. I can feel it already. I was tempted only briefly into watching a Mexican morning show with men in drag and a very buxom weather lady but that was just while I was tidying up.

The sky is overcast and it's cool but every once in a while the sun peeks out for a second and I get and idea what it will be like soon. I wore my spring coat out to go fetch my late luggage which had been delivered to the main office for me. It feels like spring. In the leasing office they had fresh baked chocolate cookies with pink smarties in them. I ate two. I'm looking to appreciate what there is to be offered here. Luck has handed it to me and for once, I would like to gracefully accept.

I'm off to take photos of our place. Starting off small. Cookies and cushy carpet. Good place to begin.

Nightflight (Afternoonflight) to Venus(California). Warning: Long, long Blog ahead.

Note: This post actually takes place on Monday January 7th.

Waiting is always the worst part. T left yesterday. Today I am on my way. My stomach turning knots until I finally get inside the airport limo and then I know I am really going. I look to my trusty iPod to calm myself. Thank you Smiths, Lily Allen and Loney Dear, Elton John even. You all played this morning while we drove to the airport and made me feel like everything was as it should be. My own music video of my life.

I paid an extra $25 when buying my plane ticket to have access to the "exec" lounge. That's what they call it too. "The Exec Lounge". No they don't, but that would be funny. Hoity Toity So and So's Lounge would be even funnier though. Somebody should have told me there would be a free soup and salad bar with sunflower and pumpkin seeds and olives and free chips, more importantly. I would have filled myself up on that instead of walking to the other end of tarnation to buy a cucumber sandwich from a very tired looking woman who, I feel, was well beyond caring about tip-top hygiene or correct food handling procedure.

Actually, I was so discombobulated when I arrived at the airport that I almost completely forgot I had access to the lounge. Then I saw the sign and remembered. I'm glad. All the free stuff they had completely distracted me from the nausea and the cold sweats induced by thoughts of flying. Free TV, internet, the aforementioned chips and salad bar, juices and teas and BOOZE. Hell of booze. Whole lotta booze. Totally un monitored and totally free. Sorry to disappoint you but I had none. No booze equals no barf, hopefully.

Also free were newspapers, and magazines. I grabbed the last copy of the Walrus - too bad for you, hesitating woman, eyeing the same time as me! I snatched it right away. I saw good reading as my lifeline to sanity during the flight. All niceties out the friggin window today. In fact, to further that point, I should explain that last night, I went out with my sister to get a pita sandwich at an Egyptian restaurant. We had to wait while they made 300 chicken shwarma pitas before they did ours and as a result, I noticed this morning that my coat and scarf were saturated with onion stench. I reek. Normally I would be embarrassed, but this morning I just think, "Tough luck, sucka!" about anyone having to sit anywhere near me. My nerves are just a little too shot from thoughts of possible, impending death scenarios involving fiery planes to have room for polite conduct. It's terrible, I know. Grabbing last copies of magazines, stuffing myself with free olives and unapologetically stinking like a big, fat onion.

I "smuggled" in two valerians past customs so I could take one just before boarding and have an extra in case I needed a double shot. Think I'll take that now. One last visit to the executively appointed bathroom and I suppose I best be off to the gate to board. Up, up and away.

* * *

Toronto to Denver

It took off and I didn't die! Thank you Jeebus, for giving us technology so that I can watch Superbad on my own little screen to take my mind off worst-case scenarios, the mildest being that my cup of peppermint tea will spill and scald me during turbulence which, by magic of mention has just commenced. Turbulence ensues. Not happy, palms sweaty, sentences fragmented.

Alright self, get it together. Employ some tricks to calm down. Picture an intelligent, professory type lady with librarian glasses and a chalkboard and a pointer to explain turbulence and how it's perfectly normal and safe. I don't actually know the physics of turbulence so I'll have to make it up...Uh, ehem (say in professory woman voice) "At certain points during an aerocraft flight, pockets of air turbulence may be encountered. When this occurs, gentle harmless breezes may bump the plane in a way that feels extremely alarming but is actually 110% okay. In fact, it's actually good for the plane and full of vitamins and minerals...." So good. That is totally not working. I will turn again to the potty mouth dialogue of Superbad to calm me, Oh, PING, seat belt signs off. Turbulence done for now.

By the way. I can't really say that Aircanada sucks too much ass, although they are known for sucking much ass. My flight was on time, I was able to soil the executive lounge with my common-ness for only 25 bucks, I hardly had to wait at all to get to the gate from the online check-in and that Steward just keeps going up and down the aisle seeing if anyone needs anything. It's the fourth time he's come round offering water in the last hour. "Air Canada: Fly with us and drink much water. We totally don't suck ass!" (Why can't I run my own ad agency? I would like the world so much better if I were in charge of it's publicity campaigns.) Maybe they put stuff in the water. Quaaludes to keep us all docile? I'm down with that. Ha ha, get it? "Down" with that. I'm so smart.

* * *

Watching the Office now. If I had known I could watch all this stuff on the plane I wouldn't have needed to bring on that library of printed material. 2 free magazines, a newspaper, a learning German textbook and a new fiction book (Kate Atkinson). Why was I thinking I would possibly need that much to read to get through six hours of flying? I guess some people would have doused their anxiety with free booze while I figured learning another one of the ten million verb tenses in German would be the ticket to relaxation for me. I do wish I'd taken more free chips though. Chips would be more useful to me at the moment. Oh NO WAY! They have the Quebec version of The Office. "La Job". Oh, they don't write their own episodes, they just do the british ones but in french. That's poopy.

Anyway, The Descent begins. Dare I look? Only if we are just about to touch the ground, else I shall shit a brick.

So we descend and I get to do this all over again in an hour. Crapsack!

I'm over the wing (Dad, you'll have been glad to know),so I totally have that going for me right? And how is the descent? Rocky, scary...cue professor woman again...nope, she aint got jack for me. What's ironic is, it might actually help to look and see us getting closer to the ground and see that no engines are on fire and there are no demons chewing on the wings or what have you. However, each time I try to steal a glance out of the window, I see nothing but sky and I'm all like, "Beeyatch!? You crazy?? Don't be looking OUT that window!". For some reason I become a sassy lady in my head when instructing myself away from psychological harm.

There's also a voice saying: " C'maaawn. Take a look ya chump! Whatsa matta? Too chicken? Bawk bawk bawk!". The voice that encourages me to freak myself out is a "good fer nuttin" type of guy, with a New York accent, from a 1940s movie. As it should be, of course.

Bloody hell! How long does it take to land a freakin plane?? Oh, TOUCH DOWN!! BOO YAA! Blind up, there's Denver. Jesus, I'm in Denver. That's bizzare.

* * *

Denver to San Jose

I totally lucked out seat-wise today. Toronto to Denver I had no one beside me and same on this one. I'm at the very back in the aisle and no one is in the middle and the rest of the plane is full. Little miracles. Thanks random luck!

Tired enough and calm enough to ignore take off and turbulence in-flight. I'm even going to take a peek as we now descend because it's California so what the crap, right? I think I should see it.

Teeny look and... holy shit are we ever up high. It's dark so all I can see are little lights but I can tell we are up really effing high. I've been in complete disbelief for months about being able to step foot onto California soil. I was about to say that I haven't been around much so it's hard to process the idea, but that's not even true really. I've been across the Ocean and back twice, seen 7 countries of the world, lived in 4 provinces and 6 cities. San Jose will be number 7. So no biggy right? Take'er as she comes.

I'm totally looking again. There are big clusters of lights which I presume are towns separated by darkness which I presume is nature or merely some sort of California void. It's easier to look at night. Twinkling lights can't hurt anyone no matter how high above them you may be. My little Christmas tree at home is brought to mind. It's under a sheet in our quiet little house waiting for us to return. A sigh of fondness goes out to Quebec right now.

I looked, I saw California's twinkling lights from really high above and my brain didin't explode. Now the lights are bigger and I see streets...now I see cars and traffic lights...Bloody hell! I'm in California! No foolin! I'm here.

Mares eat oats.

Ha, challenge to gain much weight-check mark on that. Did I place any other challenges on myself for the holidays? No I don't think I did. So success to me.

It's been a while. Laziness compels me to highly summarize the past 2 weeks. Food, sleep, stir craziness, skiing on ancient cross-country skis and eating out constantly. Probably more or less reflects all y'alls holiday experiences also.

T leaves tomorrow morning for the big C. I leave on Monday. Sleeping here in my parents basement, I already miss my view of the river and my bed but hopefully America will distract me enough to keep me from pining. I feel sorry for whoever will sit beside me on the plane. I am taking the window seat so I can keep the damn window covered, I will pee constantly, requiring maneuvering past them with my huge ass in their face and I will be white knuckled and tense enough that any sudden movements on their part could warrant a knitting needle to the groin or eye, whichever is closest at hand.

Basically I am a happy-go-lucky optimist with sunshine beams radiating from my, well, I already talked about my ass so let's move on.

One more day for me to wait folks. One more day before I am off to begin something new.

Don't be haters, wish me and T luck yo.

Don't aint be merry.

We did it. We packed and closed up our house in one day. A fun filled day of no arguing or stress (lie). It's done, we are in K-dub and onward ho. (who you callin a ho, ho?)

Christmas eve day and I'm listening to New Order and Sesame Street Fever, eating cookies and wrapping gifts. I'm also rapping gifts. Bustin' out some sweet little freestyles for my homies (more lies).

I will try to gain at least 10 pounds so that I'll have a challenge of more weight to lose in California. Eating cookies and drinking myself sick on eggnogg is a chore but it must be done if I want to meet my goals of not fitting into my pants by New Year's. Goals are important.

Happy Holidays suckas! I pity the fools that ain't be merry!

Purple monkey dishwasher

This morning, since the ladies sitting near me on the train were screaming at the top of their lungs, well, ok they were just talking loud, I decided I might as well practice my french listening skills. From what I could understand, one of them was talking about someone who died in their sleep. Except she kept giggling so maybe I misunderstood? I distinctly heard, translated of course, "...feel asleep and just didn't wake up." Then, right after that, from what I understood, she spoke of someone who "glided" on the karate mat and now is paralyzed and that they are hoping they will get their feeling back but don't know. Except again, she kept giggling. Probably I missed a key word somewhere or something so I decided to tune them out and listen to the English people behind me instead. They were talking about some elderly lady who had died at the Christmas party but no one knew for a long time because they thought she was sleeping. "Ah hah!", I thought, they must have all gone to the same party! Maybe this woman had been to karate class before this bilingual Christmas party, paralyzed in a chair from "gliding" on the karate mat and fell asleep and died. Makes perfect sense. I am good at french.

Note to self: shut-up brain.

Quebec is testing the limits of my winter coat today. My coat is loyal and true up to -20 degrees Celsius. Below that, my coat is all: "I'm leaving, I need to find myself". It's -23 with the windchill today. I'm feeling sorry for myself with my cramps clouding my judgement. Should I punch that stranger in the head because I just don't like their face or should I curl up in a ball in a corner somewhere and cry for 10 hours? Should I eat that chocolate that my colleague gave me even though it will make my cramps worse or should I eat it even thought it will make my cramps worse? (notice there is no other option in this case)

I'm just not playing enough scrabulous these days. That's probably my real problem.

You know, I am really bad at seeing the bright side and letting go of worry and just enjoying stuff. I really, really suck at that and I really wish I didn't. Somewhere along the way, I must have learned that if I don't worry, stuff will go to shit. Is that true? Probably was at some point but not anymore. Must learn new way to think. Note to self.

Snakes on rye

Alright so the freak out has been somewhat quelled. Starting to sort of sleep again. Feeling less like a rabbit in the fox part of town. Holy snakes on rye though, is it ever cold! Real christmasy, not like that fake ass winter we had last year where it didn't even start until february. Christmas without snow is incorrect. So at least there's no worry of that this year.

Man, my brain is so full of the lists of all the little things to do I don't even think I could type a blog without turning it into another list of things to do:
-buy candy and eat candy
-pack all the cutlery in case there is none in California
-wash the windows with a toothbrush meticulously for no good reason
-battle the darklord

See now, this is just going nowhere...

Freak out, uh huh, flash flash flash.

I am the official owner of a ticket to California. A jet plane ticket don't you know. I only hyper-ventilated for 3 days before and after the purchase of said ticket. My heart rate is almost less than that of a pig in a frying pan now.

I don't adapt well to change. Easy and going are two words that are never used in consecutive order when describing me. I'm not sleeping in fact. I don't lie awake with specific worries, just a racing heart and a brain that keeps jerking me back to crouched, conscious readiness. Waiting to spring from attacking tigers or what have you. Useful when you are spending a night in a jungle but no so useful when tucked in to your queen sized Ikea bed and your alarm will be ringing in 2 hours and you've already been up for 3. Deep inhalation, deep exhalation...and tense up, I mean RELAX DAMN YOU! Not you, me...

Er, so anyway, I leave for Ontario in 2 weeks from which point I will then have 2 weeks to relax over christmas and new years and then fly fly fly and hopefully not die die die to California. I leave 2 WEEKS!!!!??? It's all a blur and I have accomplished nothing other than buying a ticket which is a good start I guess. Still have to pack, close up the house(drape everything in sheets like they do in the movies and put out mice, squirrel, raccoon, skunk and bison traps. I sure as shit don't want to come home to a colony of mice procreating on the floor and bison hanging out on the couch watching PBS (bison are a lot more cultured than you'd expect). I also have to ensure that my landlord won't slough off the duty of house checking onto my permanently stoned and drunk neighbour or the other morphine addicted neighbour. Not that I think substance abusers don't make great house sitters but...Actually I don't think they make great house sitters, or neighbours. And they hate me so...what was my point? My point is I'm paranoid about various issues and doing little about it. YES! Proactive!

Man, I don't know. I need to just chill out. I'm trying. I considered the old frying pan to the head the trick a couple nights ago but I think I'm working out some better ways. I hope.

Apples and ink.

Have I already mentioned how changing to a new ink colour for my pen can totally refresh me for at least a few days. It's that easy. Actually this new one with the grape purple flow ink has enthralled me for an entire week now. That's the sort of complex, sophisticated lady I am.

If you live in Canada, you will also be up to your hips in snow. It hit like a barn owl on speed last night. We live at the bottom of a steep hill so when the snow blows, it all piles up in front of our house. It insulates well but if you have to actually leave the house, you are thigh deep in snow. Pictures to be added soon. Check back in a couple of days.

Speaking of cameras, jesus on a cracker do I ever wish I had mine at the grocery store yesterday. There was this kid. This totally weird 10 year old girl wearing what looked like her grandmothers fur jacket. It was so obviously an old lady fur coat. Hip length, puffy shoulders, full on fur, long fur. Her glasses were steamed up and her nose was dripping while she furiously tried to unwrap her chocolate bar with her ski mitts still on, she was outside in the parking lot you see. If that wasn't enough of a sight. We noticed she had some odd contraption that she was sitting on and pushing around. It was a walker with skis attached. It is so obvious that someone old died in her family and her parents figured, well, what the hell, might as well make some toys out of granny's worldly posses ions. Or maybe the kid specifically requested this contraption be made for her. Either that kid is going to grow up and be the coolest gal ever or she will live alone with 43 cats and eat Kraft dinner from a fishbowl everyday.

I have a favourite brand of apple. I discovered it when they handed them out for free at the building I work at. It was the best apple ever. T went shopping that weekend and just happened to get the same kind but didn't pay attention to what kind he got. So now I have to try every apple available. Because I am not very bright, I just realized this by the way, I have been buying 3 or 4 apples each week, to try to find it. Why I am dumb is because I buy 3 or 4 of the same kind per week instead of buying 3 or 4 different apple types. If I did that, I could find the right one faster. It's not Macintosh, nor Gala. It might be Spartan or Empire....the quest continues.

Hard candy and white cotton undies.

So, I am training my replacement at work. Today, they asked that I leave her to her own devices to see how things go. This means I have nothing to do all day. Not a thing. I'm in the spare office so I feel like a big man, having an office all to my self and a big window overlooking Montreal. I guess this is what executives feel like. Your own office, no actual work to do or at least someone to do it for you and you sit around, surveying the city or blogging about your candy cane collection until it's time to assess whether someone is doing a good job for you or not.

I think I will also get gout and order the beheading of some peasants while I'm at it. The thing is, even though it was more or less an order not to work, I still have to pretend that I am working somehow. I mean, they don't want to come back and find me knitting or playing with Hotwheels on the carpet. Which is annoying because it's 3pm and no one has checked on me all day and there is so much I could have done had I known. I even brought my paper and ink to knock off some stellar christmas card but alas, I am not truly free to do as I please. Still, the office to myself is nice. Montreal is grey and cold and snow dusted. I should just wander around The Bay.

I recently did an underwear drawer re haul and went to The Bay for replacements. I bought a slip to wear under skirts so they wouldn't ride up on my tights but it was so hard to find. There were only 3 kinds of slips in the entire lingerie section. They were in the old lady part, with the cotton night gowns and industrial beige bras that have padlocks and kidney and spleen support built in.

I decided that this time, I would go for the nicest, whitest, cotton underwear I could find in the spirit of minimalism. With my slip, and white cotton underwear, suddenly, the idea of a long, loose flannel night gown started to seem appealing. Might as well look for a hard candy dish while I'm at it and some terry cloth slippers and a nice little book of crosswords to do while I'm waiting for the grand kids to come over...

Way, way east of Montreal, the big grey clouds are parting to reveal a sky that is the palest robin's egg blue. The smaller, white clouds there are touched with pink as the sun has already begun to sink. It'll be pitch black by 4. Tonight, the fire place will be aglow and the bed will be warmed by yours truly early. It's hibernation time. Get ready for me California. I will be coming soon.

Stay in bed and order in.

Oh by the way, this is what every young lady in Montreal looks like:



Moving on, after 2 weeks of the shittiest luck ever, involving unsolvable medical annoyances, yelling at doctors, missing trains, canceled trains, a traumatizing movie and more missed trains, I am pleased to announce the successful completion of a perfect saturday. It started off a little shaky. I usually prefer to clean the place as soon as possible to get it feeling like a proper place to live after a week of neglect. Admittedly not the most fun thing to do on the weekend. Then there is the matter of grocery getting, which usually comes next and we were about to get our boots on and brave the snow when I decided, screw that. Let's go back to bed, bring in the tv and the dvd player, order some damn food to be brought to us and watch the Royal Tennebaums for the zillionth time because that movie gets better each time it's watched. So we did just that mi amigos. Our food arrived and we had to answer the door in housecoats-at 2 pm in the afternoon.

The delivery man politely averted his eyes and comments. Onion rings, spicy fries, vegetable subs and a vegetarian club sandwich with rice milk chocolate is a recommendable meal to consume in your bed, while watching Wes Anderson on a cold and snowy Saturday.

It was nearly dark when we finally decided to haul ourselves out of bed. We had been venturing out only to keep the fire stoked, which had toasted up the house nicely, so we pulled the tv back out, turned on the christmas tree, had some hot beverages and geared ourselves up for an evening trip to the grocery store.

The night was mild and the sky was clear with a few stars twinkling, the store was empty, save for a few single men shopping in the frozen food section and some teenagers, waiting for their friends to be done stacking cans of crushed pineapple and pickled pigs feet on the shelves. How leisurely it was to stroll through the empty aisles at our own pace. We called a cab to take us back home and enjoyed the spoils of our conquest, despite still being slightly full of all the fried goodness of our earlier meal.

Ah yes, sloth and gluttony doth perfection make. It's not like that. We usually eat so careful and work pretty hard. That was the first time in forever we took a whole day to just relax and laze about "indulging our fancies", as they cavemen used to say.

A most agreeable saturday indeed. What I would like to take from that into the next week is the feeling of ease and light-heartedness a bit of rest and attention to desires can bring. Remind me because I might forget quickly. I shall approach the coming week as if my pajamas and slippers were on and my pillow and blanket were at hand whenever I needed them. Sort of like a crazy person. Crazy like a FOX, who's having a lie-in. Er...G'night.

Tight pants and wings.

In the mall below the building where I work, there are handsome young men in tight pants and soft, cream-coloured, fisherman knit sweaters with big angel wings on their backs, handing out promotional postcards. Sometimes I love Montreal.

Sgt. Pepper's Bee Gees style.

I love the look of a tree covered in snow. This is lucky because I get to see 20 minutes of it out the window of the train these days. Snow has arrived indeed. I’m really starting to realize that having to only endure a month of this, and then sitting out the rest of the winter in California is a good, good thing. Although, I had a dream last night that we arrived and had a truly awful apartment to live in. Stupid paranoid brain.

On another topic, the award for cutest little cd in the world goes to Nighttiming by Coconut Records. Which is essentially Jason Schwartzman and friends. It sounds like he spent a month listening to Sgt. Pepper’s, but the BeeGees version, and watching episodes of the Monkeys and then went into the basement and recorded an album. It’s the first time I’ve thought of the BeeGees cover of the Sgt. Pepper album in ages. Takes me waaaay back. My precocious enjoyment of this album is due to having a sister 8 years older than me. I remember going to the theatre on a Saturday afternoon in downtown Kitchener and seeing Xanadu. I couldn’t have been more than 7 years old. It pretty much blew my mind. I haven’t seen it since but thanks to this adorable cd by Jason Schwartzman, I am so totally going to listen to the Bee Gees version of Sgt. Pepper and rent Xanadu. I suggest you do the same!

Oh and I am pleased to announce that there is a new distraction as I wait for the train in the morning. A very tall, businesslike man who everyday, while waiting for the train, closes his eyes and practices walking backwards, as if he were on a tightrope. One foot directly behind the other. Either he is a tight rope walker from 9 to 5 or he's a little kooky. My guess is OCD. I feel like congratulating him for being so funky. Whatever the reason. Walking backward with your eyes closed is one of the best ways of waiting for a train that I've seen for sure.

IIIIIIII can't stand it, I know you planned it...

I haven't been able to blog in a while because I'm training the gal who will be replacing me while I am in California "finding myself". She's beside me all day, except for right this second so I'm typing super fast to say that...

I can't remember. I think of things but if I don't blog them right away, they disapear from my damaged brain.

All I remember is that somehow, something happened that made me decide I should start the blog quoting Beasite Boys - Sabatoge.

So listen all y'all it's a sabatoge... but I really can't remember what or why.

new topic: I will be hell of years tomorrow.

Also, this has been a week of malchance. Remind me to explain.

Some Epson salts will calm your humours Milady.

I went to the drug store to look for hydrogen peroxide. They have it in this little section in the back that's the "old-timey" style pharmaceuticals. Rose water, Myrrh essence, Calamine, Espsom Salts. I felt like I should be wearing a monocle and "perusing the wares" in search of a tonic for for the humours. I intend to buy everything they have in that section a little bit at a time until I have a full 19th century pharmacy in my own bathroom.



So the other day I went to a great sale at the Legion down the street and a yard sale just across from it. Here are my rad finds:

Ayep

Yesterday morning, I grimly left the house at 7am, my spirit was lifted ever so slightly by the tiny sparse snowflakes falling from the sky.

This morning, frost covered the ground. It's okay. Everything is okay. Winter's-a-comin'. Ayep. Birth, death, great circle of life and all that.

On another topic. Long weekend. Yesssssss. Only for me though, me and all others working in banks. Poor T. No rest for the weary(aka engineering student).

The new lady at work eats an incredible amount of variety store items. She is always crinkling some plastic wrapper and nibbling while talking on her cellphone to her boyfriend about his brother or going to New York City to shop or endless, endless appointments being made and cancelled. I'm not sure what she does exactly but I bet she gets paid 10 times what I do. Okay, maybe 5 times. Do I actually care though? Not actually. I would hate her job whatever it is. That's the spirit Godzilla bun!

Okay so that's twice now that the word spirit has worked into this day's blog. I'll make sure to add it to my labels so anyone doing a religious search will find my blog. Or maybe I should replace spirit with a substitute word. Spittle.

It lifted my spittle. That's the spittle!

Ayep.

Ladies and Gentlenerds

I had four hours of sleep last night. In fact, I can't remember the last time that I didn't wake up for a couple of hours in the middle of the night. I'm not actually sure how I've been dragging my ass through everyday. Especially today. It's only 11:00 and I already feel like if I blink too long, I will be rendered unconscious.

Yesterday, upon leaving the house, I thought I had lost my gloves. I couldn't find them and you have to understand that I act like a head injury victim. I put everything in it's own place that doesn't change or else I have no idea where it is and can't find it so if something isn't there, it's probably because I lost it. All I could conclude is that in a slight breach of habit of not putting them on before leaving the train to go home, I had lost them on the train. I. was. devastated.

Ridiculous I know, they are just gloves but it was like abandoning a helpless pet hamster to a horrible fate to me. My precious, cashmere, grape purple, from Boston gloves, lost, no doubt in the hands of someone else. ON the hands of someone else. Metaphorically, someone had found my hamster and was wearing it on their hands. I thought I could get over the pain of losing something I liked so much but what if I saw them on someone else. What if I saw the callous human being who found them and kept them for themselves??? What if I confronted them and they wouldn't give them back. Just the possibility made me shake with outrage for the injustice of it all. Over reaction you say? No fucking shit!

T suggested I put off the grieving process until I went home and verified that they were not just misplaced. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't! I mourned those gloves all day like nobodies business until in utter desperation, I tried clinging to a shred of hope. But upon returning home, I looked and saw that they were not there and that my hope, as I suspected was hollow. I actually broke into tears, on my way to the bathroom, as I gave up finally, on the fate of my gloves. There, on the bathroom counter, for no reason I can specify, were my gloves. Was I happy as hell? Indeed I was.

What is the moral ladies and gentlenerds? Is there one? Random luck, hope, cynicism and love of a worldly possession...where does it all lead us to. A nap on the spare office floor I think.

Eccchhh.

People are gross.

I had a doctor's appointment this morning. Missed lunch, so I picked something up from the food court before going to work. It was packed. Packed with hairsprayed, oily, make-uped ladies sucking french fries from their fingers like little mouth vacuums and bloated men with greasy hair packing forkfull after forkfull of meat into their meatholes.

I was unaware how much mayonaise could be included in a lunch time meal until the woman in front of me ordered an eggsalad sandwich(with mayo in it) and mayo on the bread and out of the 10 salads she could pick from, she chose the two with mayo in the dressing. Why not top it off with a mayonaise shake and some hard mayo candy. She looked like a jar of mayonaise, like when it's been of out the fridge for a while and starts to go a bit yellow at the edges and the jar sweats condensation. She looked like that, but with more lipstick.

Everyone piling in the junk, sitting on their synthetic fibred, stinky asses, smacking their gobs as they prattle about work and family and how they went to the price club and got a great deal of some big tubs of mayonaise.

Jeux sans frontiers.

FRO-OST. Frost. This morning. Frosty. It begins.

So I think my iPod is trying to tell me something. For the past 4 times that I've gone to work, between the train station and my building, my iPod plays Games Without Frontiers while in shuffle mode. What is my iPod trying to communicate to me? What is the special message?

Here is the politically incorrect portion of today's post. Often, on my car, there is a couple who are...intellectually challenged? Is that the right way to say it. The man appears to have mild Down's Syndrome if that's even possible, and the woman just seems to be really un-smart. Every morning he sits while she stands beside him, gazing adoringly at him in a way that at first, made me think she was his mother. However, the way she runs her fingers through his hair and kisses his forehead is un-mother-like enough to persuade me she is in fact, his girlfriend, or not.

He seems to enjoy the attention as a very young child would. Unreciprocated. He has a book everyday that he reads without looking up at her. Why does he always get the chair? Why doesn't she get pissed that he ignores her for his book? Is she his mother? Does she not mind because she is lacking in sharpness? I want to know how very, very uh, clinically dim people function in a love relationship. Surely they feel all the same emotions and have the same needs? Or do they? Are they just less articulated or do they have less needs as certain things just wouldn't occur to them? Is life more simple for the simple or more confusing? Do they lack complex emotions or are they just unable to process them? I want to hang out and observe them at home. Does this make me, what's the right way to say this...creepy? An ignorant jerk?

What do I have to go by except TV portrayals like Corky from Life Goes On or whatever that show was called ( I really liked that show by the way. Even with Patty Lupone being in it. How weird am I?), or some made for TV movie about 2 intellectually challenged parents who give their son a peanut butter, sponge and dice sandwich for his school lunch and tell each other they love each other by saying "My shoes hurt."....wait, that was a comedy sketch by Bob and David...

I have to admit that I have been trying to quell the inappropriate urge to type certain words because I was brought up with them as an integral part of my schoolyard vocabulary. Like the Catholic urge, that can't be shaken, even by an ex-catholic, to administer sacred rights in a pinch, the slang bubbles in my vocal cords, waiting to be released. However, I am an adult now. A sensitive adult with a sense of the appropriate and moral restraint.

On another topic. I noticed that the cold was so dense and thick this morning, it retarded the ability to be warm in my home. Oh, oh now. Not right. Not right at all. Very very bad. Seriously, does anyone need me to give them some emergency communion?

It's funny how you are a Catholic unless you are excommunicated. Even if you profess to be an Atheist, you are still technically a Catholic. Even if you drink yourself stupid and shout at children and use Jesus and Christ as an adjective, (ie: If you don't hand me the Jesus remote I'll shove the Christing TV up your hole.) you are still a Catholic. At least that's what I got out of Catholic education. I believe all of Newfoundland and Ireland knows what I'm talking about also. I don't think I'm the only one.