updates and things

I got a surprise visit from Nektario and Markdon on Monday.  Their third musketteer, The Tsu-man, had just made plans to go to the Vancouver Auto Show so he couldn’t make the joyride south.  The boys wanted mp3 players and sugar.  Two new things I learned that day:

• The true meaning of Greek Style.  A conversation with these two is never dull!
• Applying portion control to Mexican does not make it a good pre-game meal.

IHOV update: Monday night cemented my decision not to go back to church ball.  Rupinder and I got stuck in the All-Samoa team and were promptly ignored on the court.  Even GrandPapa Freaking Smurf got sets before we did! (Needless to say, I defected to Mother Russia’s team after that game.)

Also, SassyChicklet got taken down by Big Boi of the ‘Fro Duo on yet another one of his failed attempts at landing a hit properly.  (Oddly enough, the other one looks just like Andre 3000.  I am going to start calling them Outkast from now on.) He didn’t even apologize, help her up or ask if she was ok. Rude!

This week’s epiphany:  I am indeed a clotheshorse.  I devoted two evenings to folding, hanging and organizing the four loads of clothes from the last two weeks alone.  I guess it’s not good that I picked up two new pairs of jeans when the RodentPrincess and I went jean shopping.  Ay!

The Hag gave another great demonstration of her ineptness and it has now become a one-liner around the building.  "There are unusual icons on your desktop."  I’m too disgusted at her stupidity to tell the story.

Today is the first day this year that the temps have gone above 70. To celebrate, I dusted off my hot pink Bebe ankle strap stilettos. (What? New jeans need hot shoes!)  And since I’m craving a strawberry fruit ice bar, I might just give in to it when I go for a walk this afternoon.  Ummm…Yeah… portion control is out the window this weekend.  I just know Eddie Baby is cooking up a storm for Easter Dinner.  I am powerless to resist.

Oakridge Centre is my new favorite mall! It’s not as far as downtown Van and no crazy drivers like Richmond Centre or Metrotown.  It’s got Benetton, Aritzia, Coach, Bebe, LuluLemon, BCBG, Lacoste and M.A.C.

Incidentally, I’m all about bubble gum pink lips these days.  (Lustreglass lip gloss in Morning Glory and Cremestick liner in Softwood.)   But a grown up bubble gum pink.  I can’t very well come into work looking like a drag queen holding on to the last vestiges of Melanie Griffith’s youth.

It’s time for those bandwagon jumpers to pony up once again.  It’s been a long three years. The Canucks are back and they are going to the playoffs!!!!  Looks like early detractors of the overhaul that included the departure of Marc Crawford, Todd "Big Bert" Bertuzzi, Anson Carter, Ed "Jovo" Jovanovski and (ugh. I was VERY happy to see this one go) Dan Cloutier, have been proven wrong! 

Off the ice, I sometimes wish fighting was legal and punishable only by two minutes in the penalty box.  I think it would save a lot of people from having to go to anger management classes. (Although, dental fees would get expensive.) I’d be in the frontlines like the Swedish Sedin Twins.  Yesterday, I publicly declared war on the Hag. (Via email of course, because I was still taking a cue from the Passive-Aggressive’s Confrontation Manual) I then proceeded to have a talk with her superior, the Veep.  Once that was done, I left work for the day.  But not before getting congratulated by Sane Colleague for getting the Hag called into the Veep’s office for a talking to.

This morning I arrived at cubedom to, exactly what I expected, a yellow sticky note stuck to my monitor with the words, “See me. XXX” written on them.  I figured there was no point in hurrying seeing as I was already eight minutes late and my spiced chai tea latte was getting colder.  So I sipped my latte, read and replied to emails for a few minutes.  She was forced to come over instead. (I’m getting really good at this passive-aggressive shit. My not-so-subtle delay tactic did the job!) She stated that she left that note because she wanted to ask if an 8:30am meeting was doable since she had already booked a room.  I nodded in assent.  She then asks me if I’m feeling ok as my brow was furrowed.  I gave the I’m-here-aren’t-I-so-I-must-be-ok response.  Note to self: Perfect the Jim Halpert Blank Stare Special for next time.

Anyhoo… she has opted to deal with me by sending me away.  Little does she know it is THE PERFECT SOLUTION! The less I see of her, the longer I will avoid being in that penalty box - hopefully not one with iron bars. So, the red headed stepchild will be tearing across the continent in the next few months.  On top of the Montreal trip with the Tsu-man, here is where you’ll find me:

April - Chicago

May – Louisiana and Texas

June – Texas

July – Chicago

August – Florida, North Carolina and Georgia

September – Utah and Nevada

Goodness!  August in Savannah - definite packing challenge.

Monday came a day late this week.

• rolled ankle
• swollen knuckle
• an early morning Hag episode that almost made me use the racial-discrimination-in-the-workplace card. (A word to the wise, do not ever show your face to me if you harbor preconceived notions of Filipinas as mere domestic helpers.)

Foxtrot.Uniform.Charlie.Kilo. What else is there to say?

G.K. once said this about me, "She’s a cutter!" It was actually in reference to having great avocado slicing and dicing skills.  But I imagine I would probably have fun with being a closet cutter.  "Hey baby, can you bleed like me?"  Just kidding.  Don’t send me off to the psych ward in a straight jacket just yet.  Atleast not until I’ve successfully used those slicing and dicing skills to take down La Bruja.

Red and long won in the end.  The new ‘do is fab. I now have a new addiction.  I’m putting down the B&B Hair Tonic bottle of tingly mint goodness in exchange for the Biosilk Fruit Cocktail bottle. How can I say no to bubble gum scented conditioner?

Good boys never win. They all fall away, and you remain.

What is it with me not getting enough of Blondie this week? Yikes, that’s only a stone’s throw from the Flashdance soundtrack. That always conjures memories of my mother jazzercising away to Fame in a leotard and leg warmers. It’s no wonder I’m maladjusted!

I’m spending my Saturday morning at the hair salon while everyone else goes snowboarding. That’s right, I’m indulging in four glorious hours of inactivity (you can thank me later, my little cellulite buddies.) instead of joining those suckers up the mountain. I’m torn between sticking with the usual or chopping off as much as I can get away with. Also on the fence about keeping the red or going back to black. Amy the stylist, seems to agree with the majority’s belief that I will be shedding a few tears should I insist on going short, so it’s looking like the usual will prevail.

Me and my new ‘do are cooking for the boys once their mountain adventure is done. Those hungry bastards better finish off everything. I’m not particularly fond of leftovers. I occassionally end up eating these at the communal lunchroom at work. That place is full of chatty strangers. Chatty strangers who dissect my food. Chatty strangers who ask for restaurant suggestions. Chatty strangers who always want to make friends. Ugh. I guess I just don’t like chatty strangers. (But I’m always nice at kissing them off, I promise.)

The most hilarious thing I’ve heard all week was at a restaurant where I had lunch with a friend. The waitress comes around to check on our food then tells him, "I’ll be back to water you in a bit." HUH? Sure sweetheart, make sure he gets plenty of sun and Miracle-Gro too.

Woke up at 7:57am this morning. This is HIGHLY unusual, unless I’ve been up all night which was certainly not the case. Three hours of hard play knocked me off my feet the moment the last strand of my hair was dry as a dead dingo’s donger.

So, I got to work very, very late this morning. It just so happened that the Po Po chose today to cause a commotion at the work parking lot. I later found out it was regarding a blue Miata that was reported stolen. Really, who would want to steal a Mazda Miata? If you want to go Japanese, you go with the Big 4. A Honda S2000. An Acura NSX. A Nissan Sylvia. A Toyota MR2 Spyder. A Lexus IS 350. I could see those being coveted.  (and yes, I do know Honda & Acura are from the same guys, as are Toyota & Lexus.) But I digress. Besides, I have a fetish for shoes not cars.

So what’s a very tardy girl to do but sashay down the expanse (because, ofcourse, being late has relegated me to the back friggin’ forty!) of the parking lot and be as innocuous as possible? Well, that didn’t work. I have been hounded by gossip-mongers all day asking if I knew what was going on.  Some have even insinuated that I was involved. OMFG. Hilarious at first. Now it is cloyingly annoying. To the point where I am beginning to want to work instead. People please. For the record, I was merely late this morning. Now go back to talking about the weather. Fuck all you all, by the way.

It’s safe to say I spent most of it in a drunken stupor. But apparently not as drunk as everyone else, as I had to play referee to Self-Professed-Redneck-and-Homophobe friend and SassyChicklet as they were both eager to pick fights. In keeping with the memory lapses that come with over-indulgence, may I present to you the weekend’s highlights:

• Hooray for my new tennis racquet!
• Feijoada, Caipirinhas, Eddie Baby’s Ribs, Brazilian rice and a gigantic cream puff cake.
• Hanging out with very pregnant Ruthie for a proper reality check.
• Head scratching limerick writing (Nantucket be damned, I wanted to do something along the lines of Rupinder’s Sidewinder but I lost my train of thought.)
• Endless Buttery Nipple shots which resulted in boob grabbing
• Caipiroskis!
• More shots, this time of the green gelatinous variety.
• Sinbad and the midget on the dancefloor
• Booze - Fooz (For once everyone sucked as much as I do at foozball)
• Losing a contact lens and eventually giving in to the perpetual blurry vision.
• Crashing on bunk beds like back in the day.

I wish I wasn’t.  Last night’s dream of a vehicle accident and my teeth falling out led to waking up feeling like I had been on the treadmill for an hour.  I probably sounded manic to those people I messaged inquiring whether they were fine or not.  But seeing friends and family crying or confined to a wheelchair was not pleasant.  There’s no trifling with the voodoo shit.  Teeth falling out = death.  Seriously, I couldn’t make this stuff up even if I was doing blow, shrooms and chasing the dragon all at once.

Oh, I hope I am wrong.

The last weekend was just what I needed.  Sushi. I got my fill of blood, gore, men in loincloths and capes with 300. (Women, it is well worth the price of your admission!)  I could have used a little more lubrication at the C’s, but I suppose a good dinner guest can’t possibly hoard all the wine to herself.  (Kokanee and LaBatt are wretched.) Besides, this Saturday is St. Patrick’s Day so there will be more heavy drinking than I can handle.  Green Beer Day is a day when I miss Chicago even more than usual. But between 8am Pub Plans with Nektario and Markdon and Titio’s Brazilian Birthday din-din, I think there will be enough fun to be had without the green river.

Although, boredom has reared it’s ugly head and I find I am once again contradicting myself.  Somehow I’m sensing the end of party mode and a shift into comfort mode.  The urge to stay in and curl up with a book has been calling my name of late.  So in preparation, here are the two selections I picked up last week:

• Bitter is the New Black or Why You Should Never Carry a Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office - by Jen Lancaster
• The Great War for Civilisation: The Conquest of the Middle East - by Robert Fisk

Yes, a dense book is comforting to me.  So is food.  Oh, how I miss cooking.  No, even my lazy ass does not count chopping up a salad as cooking.  I should have my German Guinea Pig over soon because I want to make a Paella and a Pear and Caramel Trifle.  Now that’s the sin that did Jezebel in!  (Or maybe I can start with Sloth.  I think I better make a date with my couch tonight.  It’s high time for some friggin cocooning.)

Go-karting pics are up at www.ivecentral.com

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Oh, the Maxie-Taxi was dead last once again! (and there are even a couple videos for posterity.)