Okay, life is over as I know it.

Either that, or there is proof out there that dating services are definitely not 100%. I mean, I should've known that based on a few of the people with whom I've chatted, but this is absolute, 10000000%, incontrovertable proof.

*shudder*

According to Emodematch, UBFM and I are 100% and 96% compatible.

Stop laughing or vomiting or staring in shocked disbelief right about now. Yeesh. *shudder*
Urgh. I looked at his picture and lemme tell you, I don't have the faintest idea what the hell I was thinking. Gah!

Fuck. I had a whole bunch more here, but I deleted it. I'm too tired to be doing this (and I'll redo it tomorrow). :P

For now, before I forget:

Lessons learned from the new He-Man show: Trust is something that must be earned through actions, not just words.

Sometime today I clocked over

10,000

hits. That's fucking phenomenal, and I owe it all to you guys. Thank you very much. I promise, once I get things ironed out around here (Blogger's fault, not mine), I will post nudie pics. :)

I always forget the itchy head. Argh.

It was originally a light brown when I first applied it, but now it's a shade of purple. I'd be concerned, but... purple would be kinda cool. At least until I tried to get some company to take me seriously, and then I'd be screwed. Damn.

Another five minutes or so of this; at least I have websites to look at and good tunes on the radio. :)

Anyhow, more later. For now... the itching! Oh, gawd, the itching!

I'll make it. I'm tough.

Okay, so today. Did some writing, nothing really important. I actually did a lot of SFA today. I finished off a book (not one I needed to read for school), and didn't go to class. What did I do instead? Watched television. Sat on the computer. Had a cry for no real reason. I love my hormonal cycle. *sigh*

I actually stayed for my entire class yesterday. I don't think I've done that since about the first one for this course (CMN and International Development). We got the final exam and went through it; it looks really intimidating from the outset, but isn't so bad overall. I say no. The important thing to remember is *not* to slack off on this one, otherwise I'm seriously fucked hard, and not in a good way.

Got together last night for a drink with a new friend that I met online (see, you're finally getting mentioned!), and had fun. We talked a lot about war and politics, and I managed to hold my own in spite of really knowing absolutely nothing on the subject. We also managed to cover colognes and perfumes, drinking, my inability to remember my favourite alcohol (Baileys, bottles of which you may donate to me at your discretion), his roommates and assorted other topics I can't really think of right now. It was a good time, nice to hang out with someone in a completely different program than mine. It makes all of my complaints seem new. ;)

The last couple of days have been fairly quiet for me. I hung out with Mark Monday night (as I said before), and yesterday I found out (through the mailing list) that J's started a new job up the street from where he lives. Things seem to be really coming together for him (in an all-round sense), and it's good to see. Now here's hoping that I'm next. :)

I've had a bunch of weird dreams over the last while. I dreamt a week or so ago that Mark's elastics in the front were missing, and no one really knew how. I dreamt ages ago that I got married to someone that lived behind me (in my current house), and after we said our vows I stood at the party and looked at him and wondered what the hell I'd done. I've had tonnes of others, but I can't even begin to remember them. Most of them are inconsequential little things like having to go feed the cats and not having any food for them or something, but a few others have been fairly significant.

The cats and I hung out in the porch today, and Digger went outside a few times. I sat in the plastic lawnchair with my feet on a cardboard box, and Shadow jumped up and settled herself on me. She either got annoyed with Digger or really comfortable and happy (I can't quite recall which), and expressed her (dis)pleasure by digging her claws into my knee slightly. It wasn't that bad, but enough to get my attention and move her around.

I readjusted my feet and legs a few times as I got uncomfortable and my butt slowly went numb, and after I moved the leg she was most anchored on to a more downward position, she got fed up and jumped down to the floor... where she promptly showed how she earned her nickname (and near name Lisha, short for) Little Shit by biting Digger on the head. She's a sweetheart.

He didn't do anything, and she moved over to be closer to me so that I might protect her from his wrath, and I heard one of them growl at the other twice, a few minutes apart. I don't know who, I don't know why (if the head-biting provocation wasn't it), but after that they seemed to relax. Shadow rejoined me on my lap and stayed with me until I finished my book, at which point we all went inside, one big happy family.

My cats are strange, but they're certainly good fodder for here.

Anyhow, I'm going to try for an early bedtime tonight. I don't have to go to my English class tomorrow, so I want to get into work a bit earlier and get a few things accomplished, if I can. But first:

You asked for it....

You waited eagerly and patiently while I hemmed and hawed and never wrote anything that I felt like posting...

And now....

(*drum roll*)

It's here!

That's right! For the first time, it's Porn by a Chick!

Where can I find this, you ask?

Right here!

Thank you, and goodnight.

Television has taught me that the following parts of my body aren't good enough:

My eyes
My lips
My hair
My stomach
My arms
My thighs
My feet
My nails (toe and finger)
My skin
My glasses (okay, not quite a part of my body)
My clothing (see above)

... and the latest:
My teeth

There's an awful lot of money to be made from telling people that there is something wrong with their bodies. There's also no shortage of things to critique about people, although the market is getting rather saturated.

I've decided to create a new career for myself. I'm going to hire myself out and pay myself exorbitant rates to go and tell people what's wrong with their bodies, based on nothing more than my own personal opinion. However, I will have a specialty; I'm going to concentrate on people's earlobes. That appears to be an untapped resource.

I will roam the streets of downtown, telling passersby that none of them can have perfect earlobes without my new MiracLobe! MiracLobe will be in the form of a suppository cream that you use three times a day for six weeks, to give yourself fuller, rounder, more supple, soft and nibbleable earlobes.

MiracLobe! is not gender-specific! It doesn't matter if you're young or old, hetero, homo, bi or undecided, male or female, MiracLobe! will work for you.

MiracLobe! works by quickly infiltrating the Darwin tubercle, adding definition and colour in this hidden area, before spreading through the rest of the ear to form this after image, seen here:

Are you not envious of these beautiful earlobes? Does your significant other say that he or she has lost interest in your earlobes ever since the baby came/car accident/job stresses started adding up/the new television arrived?

Do you know why that is? It’s because your earlobes aren’t good enough anymore! In this age of youth and beauty, you’ve gotten old! How the hell could you have let that happen? Don’t you know that’s death to any relationship?!?

We’re sorry, it’s just that we here at MiracLobe! feel passionately about the beauty of your earlobes, and we care deeply about the state of your personal life. We’d like to help you win back your significant other’s interest in your earlobes, to help you to a happier, healthier relationship.

If you still aren’t convinced that MiracLobe! is the right product for you, don’t listen to us! Listen to some of our happy customers:

“I always thought that putting something up my ass three times a day was… kinda… like… y’know … gay and stuff, but I really enjoyed it! Oh yeah, and MiracLobe! really worked and stuff, and now my wife can’t keep her teeth off of my wonderfully supple earlobes. Thanks MiracLobe! -- you saved our marriage and gave me something to do when I’m watching tv.” -- Roy, from Calgary

“I love MiracLobe! Men are always commenting on my earlobes in bars and on the street, and offering to suck them. It’s been the deciding factor in me opening up my home-based escort service, and everyone gets a happy ending with MiracLobe!.” – Tanya, St. Louis

And those are just a few of the thousands of people who’ve written in to say how much MiracLobe! has helped them.

If you think that MiracLobe! can help you, send credit card number, cheque or money order for three easy payments of just $29.95, plus $10.00 shipping and handling to the address provided by our helpful staff at litterbox jen at yahoo dot c a .



…it will work for you, otherwise you’ve wasted a lot of money

Another one is up.

Oh my... this is hilarious.

As for this... be careful, it'll make you gay. :)

I stole both of those links off of Dave Barry's blog, which I also have blogrolled, so I should be all safe with my citing.

Last night, Peacock had a fit and then looked as if he died. I was depressed and concerned, 'cause after all, that would be another fishy death -- and then he got up and started swimming again, so I called him a bastard. It's pretty dark around their tanks right now, so I've lit a candle to entertain them. I think it's working.

Anyhow, nothing terribly new lately. My life is dull, and that's okay. I didn't go to my radio class last night; Ben and I hit the Outback for dinner instead and (almost) went through three loaves of bread. Whoo! We didn't finish our dessert, so that's a good sign. Or something. :)

After that, headed back to his place. I played some Luigi's Mansion and snuggled with the monkey, and Ben wrote. I turned off the game (after at least 45 minutes of solid playing), then we watched some tv and Ben chatted on the phone with his gf. We were supposed to watch episodes of Buffy, but that never happened. I left around quarter after 1 and mucked about on the computer for a bit.

I got my hair cut yesterday, and I'm not sure if I like it or not. It almost seemed as if the guy gave me a mullet, which would have *seriously* pissed me off -- I asked to have two inches taken off of my 'do, and mentioned that I'd like something light because my hair has a tendency of going flat. There was no "give me a mullet" in there -- but I've been assured by a number of people that it was not a mullet. Still not sure if I like it, though.

Gotta help out Mom, so more later. No mullets here.

A few quotes:

"There's nothing quite as satisfying as a stick in each hand, I should tell you, Jen. ;)"

"I can beat the drum many ways. ;)"

"I'm well versed in techniques for pounding the hide."

In the letters to the editor, a gentleman writes in:

"Albert Einstein's opinion of war: "He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would fully suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at oncec. Heroism at command, senseless brutality, deplorable love-of-country stance, how violently I hate all this, how despicable an ignoble war is; I would rather be turn to shreds than be part of so base an action! It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.""

The editor's comment?
"Proof that being a brilliant physicist doesn't necessarily make everything else you say sensible."

At least the editorial staff is unbiased. :P

Oh, sorry. Sarcasm meter's stuck on. Eesh.

All screwed up and nowhere to turn. :P

I don't want to go to work.

*sigh*

Some test results:
Jen, when it comes to dating, you're a Social Idealist.

You're comfortable in social situations that fluster other people. It is, in part, this ease that makes you a catch for potential partners. Since you may tend to pass over a potential love interest too quickly, the key for you is learning how to not throw away a keeper too soon.

New article up at Whore's Boudoir. This one rousted me out of bed to write itself, and I only just fought it off last night (thinking I'd get to it today, which didn't happen).

There may be a "Things that I don't understand" part two in the future. I had a few other thoughts along those lines. :)

And another quote:

[on the subject of books/authors to pick up and try out, after Ben suggests LotR and I turn up my nose]
Ben: "English literature does not begin and end with the Lord of the Rings!"
Me: "Finally! Someone who agrees with me! Who said that?"
Ben: "You did."
Me: [*pause*] "Hey, cool. I'm smart sometimes." :)

Anyhow, good times lately. Had my on-floor test with Chapters today (phase three of the interview process; the next step is the swimsuit competition), and the manager said it went well. Apparently I was the first of the chosen few to go through the process, so I'll have to wait to find out whether they set people on fire or not. If some short person who looked slightly awkward and like she was playing dress-up in an oversized black vest approached you today to ask if you needed help, I'm sorry. They made me do it.

After that, I drove over to bug Mark. I got there as his mom was unloading groceries, so I helped out with that, then went and rousted him from the basement to go help unpack -- since I don't really know where anything goes, I'm more of a hindrance than a help.

However, I was able to put the juice in the downstairs fridge, which prompted Mark to comment, as my arms were loaded full of containers, "Nice jugs." Isn't he charming?

We watched Swimfan, which was... hrm. I'm not putting it at the top of my list of favourite movies, but I'm not clamouring to ask for that portion of my life back, so it balances out. I'd recommend watching it, the actors did a good job, particularly the one who played Madison (Erika Christensen). I got fed, which is always a plus, and I had spinach for the first time. And likely the last, unless I'm fed it again as someone's guest. :) I will eat any number of foods out of politeness as someone's guest (provided they're on my "really, I really don't want/like to eat this" list), so it's given me some wider exposure than I might've otherwise had, and it's meant that I've gotten to try foods like sweet potatoes (which I like), and shrimp stirfry (which I enjoyed), but spinach... hrm. I told Mark that he has to get better soon so that he can eat my spinach for me. ;)

Actually, it was funny last time I ate over; I commented that it was a shame Mark wasn't well, 'cause then I couldn't pawn my broccoli off on him... so his mom said she didn't get as much as she should've and stole some off my plate. Y'know you've been accepted by someone's family when... :) *grin*

It's good to see the monkey with some energy. The swelling in his face is nearly gone and he's much more alert and active, which is really encouraging.

But enough about him, some more about me now. ;)

Hrm. I have nothing. And it's past time for bed. I'll come up with something more interesting later (as well as do a bunch of writing that I'm overdue .. to... do. Yeah).

Random quote: "Nice! You're good at not setting people on fire."

Aw. My drug lord profile got reset. :( No more selling weed to minors for me.

Darn. :(

"...hi, it's Jen."

I always feel somewhat fake when I introduce myself by my name. In a way, I feel more of a sense of attachment to my last name than my first, and that may be because it's so uncommon (my last name, that is).

When I give my name, I feel as if it's not really who I am, or something, that I'm only pretending to be "Jen" for now, and in reality, my name is something long and convoluted involving sixteen syllables and four silent 'q's, but that more accurately describes who the being known as me is.

When I was younger, I wanted to change my name. There were so many Jens, and I quickly grew tired of being called Jenny (always annoying when I run into old classmates from elementary years who still call me such, because I feel that they don't reflect the fact that I've grown up), and at the time my name was so common, and I wanted something different and exotic and unusual.

Sure, people who had different and exotic and unusual names had their difficulties too, but there was never any doubt as to who they were -- Jamine, Sandra, Kristen, Siobhan -- all of these girls were different and special and popular... and then there was dorky little me in the corner with my name that was shared by two other Jens at the time and later, in grade nine gym class, five other Jens -- there didn't appear to be any sort of special identity reserved for me.

But now I'm older and popularity is less of an issue and I've developed a unique(ish) identity to go with my humdrum name. I may be only a Jen, but we're a pretty popular bunch, and that's no longer such a bad thing. Now, I may be "Jen" and that may not be the easiest way to identify me (although the numbers of Jens are decreasing, at least in my circles), but I'm a lot of other things too; as Ben says, "short, blonde, kicks people." I also wear glasses. :)

I'm open, I'm honest, I have a tattoo and some interesting piercings, I can talk about any subject as comfortably as talking about my cats, I love animals and my cats in particular (and my homicidal fish!), I have a nurturing streak, I like to help out my friends but I hate being taken advantage of, I love to talk (thanks, my parents), I love to read, I play clarinet, I like to cross stitch... there's an awful lot that's gone into making this particular Jen, and it's not all that bad.

At the same time, this particular Jen needs to get dressed to head off to work (although I am on my own time somewhat, having skipped class -- another thing this particular Jen does a lot of this semester), so that's that from my shower thoughts today.

Ah, some free time in front of the 'puter. Just pounded out an article for Whore's Boudoir, so that's a bit of a load off. It's a day late and a dollar short (to steal the expression), but what the heck.

Spent the day at Mark's place today. It was a low-key afternoon; we watched some tube, had some lunch and I finished reading my book for tomorrow's class... not necessarily in that order. Had a scary moment with a sneeze and some nasal bleeding from that, but it passed and then things were okay.

Poor Mark spends the days in a pretty quiet mood, which just seems to be accentuated by the fact that he can't really speak. Conversations are held with yes or no questions, or a notepad nearby.

I didn't have to leave for my class right away, so I wound up hanging around after Mark's dad got back, which turned into me not going to my class, which turned into an invite for dinner... which was good, 'cause it learned me that I actually like shrimp. We had a shrimp stirfry and I found it quite tasty. I'm a polite dinner guest, so I wouldn't have said anything if I was served a food I vaguely disliked anyhow -- and Ben's aware of this and brought it to his parents' attention. Friends who know how to read you and who watch your back are great. :)

I had a number of great conversations with Ben's dad; before he left, we chatted about Ben and Mark and their personalities, and then after dinner we chatted about the war in Iraq, bilingualism and multiculturality in Canada, and telemarketers. Lots of fun.

Afterwards, I went downstairs and watched an episode and a half of Buffy with Ben and Mark, then their dad drove me home, which I greatly appreciated.

It wasn't much different from slugging about at home, except I got up early, spent less (read: none) time on the computer and had no cats crawling on me. So... it was somewhat different. :)

Anyhow, I'm going to try to get an email or two finished off and head off to bed. I had other things to write, but now I've forgotten them, so I guess I'll just close by saying that Mark's teaching me a lot about strength and dealing with the hand you're dealt through all of this. I know I wouldn't deal even one-tenth as well as he is, and I'm really impressed.

Wow. Not only did I get to visit my boyfriend at the children's hospital, but now I get to babysit him tomorrow, too! ;)

*snicker*

He's been upgraded to elastic status, but for anyone who has not had up-close-and-personal contact with someone who's had this type of surgery, "elastic" here is medical for "wound so fucking tight you'll *never* get your fucking mouth open." Conversations with Mark are now totally filled with illegible mumbling, instead of just occasionally. ;)

Anyhow, I was teasing him today, telling him I was going to train him like they did to the monster in Young Frankenstein. Mark at one point made some grunting noise that reminded me of the monster, so I, feeling like a brat, started singing the song "Puttin' on the Ritz", in the same manner it appears in the movie (if you haven't seen the movie, this won't be funny... I highly recommend the film, it has some of the best movie lines every): "If you're blue and you don't know/where to go to/why don't you go/where fashion sits..." and here the monster chimes in (and I did it to the best of my abilities): "Puttin' on the Ritz!"

Now, what's funny about this (here I ruin the joke when I try to explain it), is the way in which the monster's line must be said. When I did this part, Mark and I both lost it. Of course, he can't quite laugh right now, so that set me off even more (there was much spillage of drool on someone's part, and I won't say who). Ben thought it was funny, too. :)

The group interview went well, I think. A few people broke taboos that I normally would think shouldn't be crossed in interviews -- swearing, wearing jeans, having one's cell phone ring (even if you don't answer it) -- and I was fortunate enough not to be any of those people, so here's hoping. *shrug* The pay's not great, so if it doesn't pan out, that gives me more incentive to look for something full-time, but... it'd be a pretty fun gig to work for awhile.

Digger has given me permission to write for another minute or two. I feel bad that I've missed my CMN and International Development class two weeks' running. The prof was supposed to give out the exam tonight; at least, she said so ages ago. I might fire off an email to her tomorrow and explain my absence.

Hrm. Looks like Digger was lying when he said I had more time. He's currently engaged in abusing (yes, beating up) my garbage. The snow in the backyard can't melt soon enough; he's getting so restless. :P

As I have to get up early tomorrow for this babysitting gig, I'm off to bed. I'll write more then, including the article that's percolating in my head for the Whore's Boudoir. Apparently there are serious design issues there I must fix, which I was not aware of because I use IE (and can't install Mozilla, so get off my back!). *grumble*

Oh yeah, the other thing I forgot. My mom went and joined a gym tonight, and the girl who took her around was a girl that I was friends with back in kindergarden and grade one -- she lived down the street from me, and we used to play together and go to Brownies together. Anyhow, as soon as she saw the last name, she asked my mom if she had a daughter named Jen, and faith and begorrah!, 'twas the right person (of course, there being literally about 10 people in Canada with my last name, it was pretty given). Anyhow, this girl passed along her number to my mom and seems right psyched about getting together with me. Neat, eh?

This city is damn small. My neighbourhood, if you stay in it, sure gets a lot of people returning to check it out and say hi again -- it isn't the first time someone I knew from elementary school returned to see if the original folks were still about.

Sometimes it's good that this city is small -- I ran into four different people I knew downtown and at the movie theatre when Ben and I were about. Other times, I wish I could be someplace where nearly every street corner has a memory of some form attached to it. Urgh.

Yay! My attempt has been posted at Bad Samaritan. Help me out by going there and commenting on the post -- hopefully positively. :)

I get political for once:

A Letter to George W. Bush on the Eve of War

By Michael Moore, MichaelMoore.com
March 17, 2003

George W. Bush
1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Washington, DC


Dear Governor Bush:

So today is what you call "the moment of truth," the day that "France and the rest of world have to show their cards on the table." I'm glad to hear that this day has finally arrived. Because, I gotta tell ya, having survived 440 days of your lying and conniving, I wasn't sure if I could take much more. So I'm glad to hear that today is Truth Day, 'cause I got a few truths I would like to share with you:

1. There is virtually no one in America (talk radio nutters and Fox News aside) who is gung-ho to go to war. Trust me on this one. Walk out of the White House and on to any street in America and try to find five people who are passionate about wanting to kill Iraqis. You won't find them! Why? 'Cause no Iraqis have ever come here and killed any of us! No Iraqi has even threatened to do that. You see, this is how we average Americans think: If a certain so-and-so is not perceived as a threat to our lives, then, believe it or not, we don't want to kill him! Funny how that works!

2. The majority of Americans – the ones who never elected you – are not fooled by your weapons of mass distraction. We know what the real issues are that affect our daily lives – and none of them begin with I or end in Q. Here's what threatens us: Two and a half million jobs lost since you took office, the stock market having become a cruel joke, no one knowing if their retirement funds are going to be there, gas now costs almost two dollars – the list goes on and on. Bombing Iraq will not make any of this go away. Only you need to go away for things to improve.

3. As Bill Maher said last week, how bad do you have to suck to lose a popularity contest with Saddam Hussein? The whole world is against you, Mr. Bush. Count your fellow Americans among them.

4. The Pope has said this war is wrong, that it is a Sin. The Pope! But even worse, the Dixie Chicks have now come out against you! How bad does it have to get before you realize that you are an army of one on this war? Of course, this is a war you personally won't have to fight. Just like when you went AWOL while the poor were shipped to Vietnam in your place.

5. Of the 535 members of Congress, only one (Sen. Johnson of South Dakota) has an enlisted son or daughter in the armed forces! If you really want to stand up for America, please send your twin daughters over to Kuwait right now and let them don their chemical warfare suits. And let's see every member of Congress with a child of military age also sacrifice their kids for this war effort. What's that you say? You don't think so? Well, hey, guess what – we don't think so either!

6. Finally, we love France. Yes, they have pulled some royal screw-ups. Yes, some of them can be pretty damn annoying. But have you forgotten we wouldn't even have this country known as America if it weren't for the French? That it was their help in the Revolutionary War that won it for us? That our greatest thinkers and founding fathers – Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, etc. – spent many years in Paris where they refined the concepts that lead to our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution? That it was France who gave us our Statue of Liberty, a Frenchman who built the Chevrolet, and a pair of French brothers who invented the movies? And now they are doing what only a good friend can do – tell you the truth about yourself, straight, no b.s. Quit pissing on the French and thank them for getting it right for once. You know, you really should have traveled more (like once) before you took over. Your ignorance of the world has not only made you look stupid, it has painted you into a corner you can't get out of.

Well, cheer up – there is good news. If you do go through with this war, more than likely it will be over soon because I'm guessing there aren't a lot of Iraqis willing to lay down their lives to protect Saddam Hussein. After you "win" the war, you will enjoy a huge bump in the popularity polls as everyone loves a winner – and who doesn't like to see a good ass-whoopin' every now and then (especially when it 's some third world ass!). So try your best to ride this victory all the way to next year's election. Of course, that's still a long ways away, so we'll all get to have a good hardy-har-har while we watch the economy sink even further down the toilet!

But, hey, who knows – maybe you'll find Osama a few days before the election! See, start thinking like that! Keep hope alive! Kill Iraqis – they got our oil!!

Yours,
Michael Moore

*drum roll* Well, I have the group interview tonight. Nice. :)

As well, just got myself taken off the potential interviewees list for another job that I got an email about last night; I don't have full-time access to a car. That, combined with what I remember of the job (applied to on that day of infamy, with the 4 billion cover letters), means that it was likely selling insurance, which is not what I'd like to do as a full-time job. No worries, moving on.

The more I think about the possible job that Ben and Mark's mom was talking about, the more I get psyched about it. As scary as it would be to leave behind all that I know now and all that I could possibly do, I can't limit myself based on how much I enjoy where I am now. It would, however, be wonderful to leave behind all the stupidity and crap and lies. But I'll likely run into that anywhere, no? Ah well.

Haven't gotten to talk to the monkey since Sunday night, which sucks. Last night I was talking of going over to poke at him, but Ben and I wound up going out to see Old School -- my treat, which meant it was free, including snacks and such. I was seriously upset and stressed by crap going on with my folks and finances, so getting to go out for awhile and watch a dumb movie (I'm sorry, it wasn't that great), and chat was nice. It was good to get my mind off things, and I felt much better once I got home.

The only money I spent yesterday was $4.25 on a pair of shoes from Zellers, 'cause my shoes were killing my feet and I want to wear them tonight for the interview. Otherwise, we did the book store browsing, the expensive tech toy browsing, and both of us kept our wallets in our pockets. Good sign. :)

So yeah, it's been a quiet few days. Worked on Sunday, went over to bug Mark and wound up staying up late chatting with Ben. Yesterday was work and the movie, and now we're here at today, and they day hasn't really yet begun.

I realized last night that the reason my stomach went into insane cramping pain when I went to bed was because all I'd had to eat all day was a bagel for breakfast, some of Ben's noodles (along with dessert, I'm bad) and a monster bag of popcorn. There be no real meals in that mess, and I hadn't even really realized that I hadn't really eaten all day. See what happens when I don't buy my food downtown? Eesh.

I'm still feeling a bit yuck today, but I made sure I ate breakfast first thing, and I'm going to pack a lunch to bring with me when I head off to work. Anyhow, gotta get moving on the day. I'll post more later.

Well, since neither Angus nor gord have posted anything about last night's adventure, I feel free to write whatever the hell I want about.

The names are real, the quotes are real, the rest... well, you'll see.

The evening began with us assembling at my work (true) and throwing garbarge at my passing coworkers as they left the buillding. I actually managed to peg a few random strangers, as I have the crazy madness throwing arm, but I was actually aiming for Angus. No matter.

From there, we wandered off to try to accost a hooker, but she wouldn't take our money, no matter how much we offered. 'Twas a shame, but after we left, I saw her walk into Hooters, so maybe she wasn't a hooker, it's hard to tell.

It was while we were standing on the corner, waiting for the light to turn green that gord announced, completely out of the blue, "I look good in jogging pants!" (also true). I'm very serious when I say that this was a complete non sequitur, and it led to ridicule. Sorry gord. :)

Angus looked over and noticed that yes, indeed, gord did look good in jogging pants. In spite of the fact that his girlfriend was standing right there, Angus decided that now would be a good time to find out what gord kissed like when he was sober. So he reached over, grabbed gord by the ass and hauled gord to him, then planted a seriously hot kiss on him. I needed some time to myself once we reached the club, let me tell you.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention, we were on our way to the gay bar down the street. I continue.

After the ten-minute long make-out session on the corner of the busy intersection, Jenn and I had managed to collect $29, a breath mint and four condoms (one glow-in-the-dark, two flavoured, and a used one, which we didn't actually take) for this little piece of street theatre. This was more than enough money (and accessories) to make us very popular girls at the club. Not that we needed the help; we're both gorgeous. But it seems as if once you have a drink in front of you, people want to buy you more -- perhaps they believe that since you're willing to drink, perhaps they can get you liquored up on drinks and take advantage of you?

Well, this is precisely what I did to Jenn. I bought her round after round of straight tequila with the money we made (and that which I lifted from Angus' wallet, "Shh, Angus might hear you!"), and then I led her off to a darkened corner.

"Is this botany or is this cunnilingus?"

After she and I had washed up and straightened out our clothes (not to mention purchased the film rights to all the footage of our little rendez-vous), we went to go and find gord and Angus. gord was trying to get Angus to put his clothes back on (when Angus drinks, he winds up naked, true story!), and Angus asked gord plaintively, "Is there something wrong with my THROBBING COCK?" I told Angus, "I don't think he likes it up the ass." Angus pouted for the rest of the night.

On the way home, we explained to a drunk gord that when one was dead, one couldn't have sex anymore. The best thing to do was to spend as much of your life as you possibly could having crazy sex (but being safe about it!), and not doing anything too stupid to end your own life too soon. Reflecting on the idea of no sex after death (especially after we threatened to style his hair into an Elvis-style pompadour so he'd go to Heaven looking like that, then hold seances to make fun of him), gord said, "Wow, that sure takes the fun out of suicide." We told him to just wait for his time, and then he could have fun after death. :)

So that was Friday night. Today I got up to take the car in for a workover (free, offered by the dealership), then drove out the hospital to see Mark. I ran into his folks while there, which was good 'cause I didn't really know the layout of the hospital. I had his room number, but no real idea of its location. We went up to his room and they left me with him, and I chatted with him for a bit. I was surprised at how much he was able to talk, as were his folks when I told them afterwards. :)

He was pretty zonked, so after visiting for about a half hour or so, I headed down to where his parents were waiting and wound up chatting with them for about three times as long as I'd spent with him. It was really fun; we talked needlework and career paths and the differences between the three boys in their family... good times. I really like his folks, and as a sign that they really do seem to like me -- his mom is going to look up some names at the RCMP and put me in touch with some people so that I can perhaps apply for a job that would utilize my uni degree. Not bad. :)

Around 2, I headed home to get some lunch (after saying another goodbye to the invalid). I picked up a few flicks for my folks, then came home and ironed out the rest of the plans. Vegged on the couch for awhile, got pinned by cats while I napped, then got up to go and get Ben. We grabbed some dinner and headed back to the hospital. Saw Mark's folks again, got to see him again all dopey and such, then I dropped Ben off at home and came home.

While I was at Ben's the first time, I was trying to play with Fidget, the hamster (she has a name!). She was napping in the litterbox, and I reached in to poke at her in an attempt to wake her up to come out. Well, she rolled over on her side slightly and lifted a front leg; I couldn't figure out if this was Fidget-speak for "I'm going to chew your fucking finger off if you poke me again," or "Rub my belly please!" I went with the second and I still possess all ten digits, so I must've been right. She repeated the behaviour after I stopped rubbing at one point. I think she just has some cat to her. :)

Speaking once again of the cats (and when don't I?), Digger has turned into a snuggle whore. Or at least he did for a brief period of time this evening. I was lying on the loveseat again (where this afternoon's rest and pinnage occured), and when I decided to stretch out, Digger took this as an invitation to join me on the square millimeter of space that remained. If he were Shadow, that wouldn't have mattered; she likes the topography that is my body for her naps. However, Digger has never been a lap cat; he prefers to merely use appendages as pillows.

No matter. He jumped up and settled in by my side for a nice long scratch and pat, which eventually turned into a settle down and cuddle. It was quite sweet; I may make a lap cat of him yet.

Anyhow, what else that I've likely mentioned a billion times and completely forgotten? Well, people have been poking fun at poor Mark's expense. His parents told him, as he was settling into the bed yesterday prior to the surgery, that his head was going to be shaved for the procedure. He was rather freaked out at this, and they played it along for a bit accordingly. This evening, on my third trip through, I told him that he had a patch of hair missing from the back of his head, but it wasn't noticeable. Perhaps the drugs were increasing his gullibility, but he believed me for a bit. Kinda funny.

Nonetheless, he appears to have retained or regained his sense of humour; not only was he making jokes himself, but at one point, in order to illustrate some point or another that escapes my brain at the moment, he reached over and molested me. Ben thought it was hilarious, and I laughed as well, but I also warned him he might not want to do that again, as it might make things uncomfortable to him -- at which point he promptly reached over to do it again. *roll* What a goon. :)

Anyhow, I'm just going to wrap by saying that everyone is off my Christmas card list tonight. There were no "get well soon" or "do well!" messages left for the poor monkey on my site, and no one wished Big A a belated happy birthday. *sticks nose in air* Well!

Hrm. S'okay. Most of you don't know them anyhow, so I suppose I can be accomodating this time. Maybe.

*grr*

"What's wrong with my THROBBING COCK?!"

Mark's mom called my cell to tell me how things went; I thought that was really nice of her.

I think I'm going to get him some Mylar balloons tomorrow that say "it's a boy!" I have a strange sense of humour. :)

*Fantastic* evening out with gord, Angus and his gf Jenn. Oh my God, did I ever need that -- a quiet evening out with friends, filled with laughter, great conversation, and the analysis of everyone we knew.

Okay, not everyone, but many folks. Wonderful times, and I thank you all. I really did need that.

Gord's good for that, I find; I'll be not in the mood to be out and about, but then I will, and I wind up having a fantastic time. We're an incestuous little orgy, the four of us, and we have great future plans. I have some awesome quotes from the evening, but they're downstairs in my coat pocket (in my Fat Little Notebook), so I must input them later. For now, CSI beckons to me, and then bed. Urgh, do I feel tired. :P :)

Then tomorrow I get to take Mom's car in for a workover (free, courtesy of the dealership), and then I'm off to visit Mark in the hospital. I bought him this book he was eyeing earlier and a card, which I scribbled rude notes all over, and possibly the balloons. I just hope he's feeling okay; I might just cry if he's hurting. I was almost crying today at work 'cause I was tired and stressed and the day felt long and I was worried about him. That's why the evening out with the four aforementioned people was really appreciated, and needed. Otherwise I would have sat at home and likely moped or sulked or just felt like yuck. :)

*hugs* to all. I love meeting fantastic new people, and I'm just sorry I didn't go to Gabe's party to see my fantastic other friends, but I would have been a real drag, and I would have had to leave early, what with the lack of wheels and the early morning tomorrow. I hope we can get together another day.

And to Big A, my most favourite of favourite fantastic people, happy belated birthday. I'm sorry that I suck and didn't say so earlier. :( Forgive me?

For comic fans... stolen off of Rob's site, and the easiest way I know to spread the word to friends of mine that might be interested.

Which reminds me, must send that link to the ex-.

In more important news, today Moose/Monkey/Mark is going in for his surgery. They're going to do weird and (in my opinion) scary things to his face, so could we please all share some love and send good thoughts his way? The surgery is sometime this morning, then he's spending two nights in the hospital. I'm going to go see him tomorrow, and bring him a card and a book I bought that I know he wants.

That's about the closest I can do to being helpful in this situation. I want to do something, but there's nothing I can do. :P

Anyhow, I'll post more later, but for now, happy thoughts please and thank you. :)

Don't you have a Bond name?

Mine is Kitty Holiday. Unless you go by the one my friend gave me, which is Orelle Pleasure. They're both quite apt. ;)

What's Your Best Quality?

Jen, your best quality shines through in how Intelligent you are!

The fact that you're a smart person who is more able to understand complex concepts than many other people are really draws people to you! But that's not the only thing. Your answers on the test indicate you're great at expressing yourself and can be at your best when articulating your ideas or communicating with others. You are a romantic and affectionate person who can radiate passion — whether for certain ideas or for matters of love, too.

In all, there are 15 qualities that help define you when you're at your best. Those are the traits potential employers, friends, and partners look for in you. What makes you unique is your particular distribution of those 15 qualities.

We've found that your particular combination of qualities is rare — only 2 in 10,000 people share the same general mix of traits. Those are great odds if you're trying to show a potential employer, colleague, friend, or date why you're exactly the right person for them.

And another quiz, 'cause it's funny. :)

Are You A Sex Goddess?

A brilliant bolt of lightning descends! SHAZAAM! The oracle has spoken!

The smoke clears to reveal that inside you is a divine being,

HESTIA, the Goddess of Family and Peace.

She's a deity who embraces all the aspects of womanhood. As a woman in her image, you exude femininity and sensuality.

You view men as the perfect counterpart to your womanly ways. But you probably don't appreciate casual encounters. Rather, you prefer purity and tradition. Because of these predilections, you tend to attract men who understand your nature and possess maturity and seriousness beyond their years. When you finally arrive at the bedroom and your divine qualities are released, you reveal such sensuality that the experience is unforgettable. In other words, with the right guy, you really know how to get wild in the sack. In fact, when the mood strikes, you can easily drive your man crazy. But out of respect for your inner nature, you require love and devotion from your partners. You are an attentive and giving lover who knows how to make your man feel sexy, appreciated, and fulfilled. When you show your stuff, it's like a light shines down from the heavens. Behold, the skies proclaim, here lies a goddess!

Unleash the sex goddess in you!
--
Booyah!

I'm master of the quizzes tonight...

What Type of Flirt Are You?

Were you just winking at us? We couldn't quite tell... In fact, we think it's pretty safe to say that you're a Subtle Flirt — you're a master of the flirting game. You know how to attract attention from anyone, any time. A quick come-hither smile, a little game of look-away-and-look-back-again — before long you have the object of your affection wrapped around your little finger. One of the best things about your approach is that it's discreet. You can always act innocent and coy if something gets taken out of context or misunderstood. Just make sure you're not too subtle, or you may end up playing the game all by yourself.
--
Jen, your true color is Blue!

You're blue -- the most soothing shade of the spectrum. The color of a clear summer sky or a deep, reflective ocean, blue has traditionally symbolized trust, solitude, and loyalty. Most likely a thoughtful person who values spending some time on your own, you'd rather connect deeply with a few people than have a bunch of slight acquaintances.

Luckily, making close friends isn't that hard, since people are naturally attracted to you -- they're soothed by your calming presence. Cool and collected, you rarely overreact. Instead, you think things through before coming to a decision. That level-headed, thoughtful approach to life is patently blue -- and patently you!
--
*rofl* Some of that seems.. well, patently untrue. I *never* overreact, oh no... ;) As for naturally attracted/soothed by my calming presence? I dunno about that. I think people are just amused by my oddities and glad to see someone else being clumsy or dumb to shift the focus from them. ;)
--
You're Pretty Tame

Most people think you're as good as gold. We know better. Sure, you're generally a by-the-book, law-abiding model citizen, but every once in a while you like to break a rule or three. Skinny dipping? Done it. Had a drink too many now and then? Guilty as charged. But chances are that's pretty much the worst of it. We all have a few skeletons in our closet, but when it comes right down to it, you're a nice person. You wouldn't dream of making a serious play for your best friend's squeeze, and you always pay your traffic fines — speeding and parking tickets. It's a good balance. If everyone was like you, the world would be a happier place, so keep it up!
--
That one's just plain funny. I don't think they weighted at the questions I answered yes to versus the ones I answered no to. Sure, I haven't been arrested, but I'm not necessarily what some would call tame. Although what do I know? Maybe I am. :)

New article up on the Whore's Boudoir.

In the meantime, some content I wrote earlier.

The last several days have been an absolute mess of writer's block. I have options ahead of me for writing, but no ideas that seem solid enough.

I think what I need is for something big to happen to either make me really happy or tick me off. Then I'll have a lot to write about. Or maybe not. Hrm. :P

I brought pizza guy's friend the brownies I made, and got a hug for my troubles. He told me to stop by more, and I warned I wouldn't always have brownies, but he said that was fine.

I just spoke to pizza guy, since I haven't seen him in awhile. Kinda funny to be listening to him talking about the ladies he's interested in pursuing or has been pursuing. It's ... different. Mind you, it's nothing like the ex-, who would tell me all about how his gf wasn't doing this or that for him in the relationship (or in the bedroom), and then try to get me to sleep with him. Bah!

Speaking of the ex-, I had a brief conversation with him last night. The stuff with the pizza guys happened Sunday; this conversation took place Monday night. Nothing terribly special, he was just asking about what I'd been up to, how Mark was, etc., etc. Pretty dull conversation, really.

Anyhow, what else? Learning about more work strangeness. It's just all oddities here; sometimes I really think pizza guy has it all figured out -- do your own thing, take no crap, and tell 'em off when they need it. :)

Otherwise, I have my phone call thingy tomorrow morning, so I'm looking forward to that. Here's hoping they have an offer for me, regardless of what my folks think. I'll just point out to 'em, at least it's not the porn store! :)

Urgh. I want to get a bunch of writing done, but I'm not at my own machine, so I feel all weird and iffy about it.

Every time I learn of a friend that has a blog or someone that reads my site leaves their link, I feel obligated to read it, and I like that. At the same time, sometimes I find that some of the blogs I read just seem to be poorly written, or don't engage my interest at all. It's difficult sometimes for me to get into the life of a friend that I haven't seen in years when I don't know the people of whom she speaks, or I don't find that he writes terribly interestingly.

I feel guilty about that, almost; I feel as if I should be fascinated by the minutae that they post, in much the same manner that people appear to be interested in mine. And yet, I'm not. Is it because I don't like this person in real life? Is it because they do write poorly? Is it because I'm just too busy with one thing and another to get really involved in the gripping drama that is their recitation of their actions across the weekend?

But... this is what I write. So, how can I claim to be bored by reading this on others' pages, when I write much the same way?

Mark told me once that a mark (hah!) of my being a good writer was the fact that I could make stories about my cats or fish seem interesting. I wrote awhile back about how my fish were plotting to kill me, and a few friends of mine told me in person or online how they found that hilarious. gord has told me twice that things I wrote were things he needed to hear, or that he needed the laugh I provided. It's good to know that, and I guess it's things like that that people keep reading for; because everyone once in awhile, amongst the exciting tidbits that are my daily minutae, are bits of humour.

Things like my plotting fish, my crazy cats, or my mother that has decided that water is an adequate substitute for chocolate... they're all the funny parts of my life and I like being able to share them. I just wish people would comment more, so I could get a better idea of who my audience happens to be; 250-350 hits a week can't all be from troll bots looking for addresses to spam. :)

I skipped my class this evening and came over to Mark's place to hang out. I wound up spending the evening watching him and his buddy play Zelda, during which I caught a nap. His folks fed us, which I really appreciated, and then it was back downstairs for more gaming fun. Woo.

I was in a weird headspace earlier today, and I couldn't even really define it for myself. It was like... I wanted to be someplace else in my life, but I didn't know where. I was passing all these homes on my way to Mark's place, and I felt like... somehow I was missing out. Like, I should have a home set up already and be someplace further along.

Yet, I'm 22. There's no rush on me to be married or settled or even own a home. Hell, if my income doesn't improve, I will be living at home forever. Who's to say that if I were married and such right now that I'd be happy?

I've dated so few people that I saw as good long-term prospects. That's a comment on both my dating decisions and the guys I meet. That's not to say that I haven't dated some fantastic guys, but they just weren't guys that were necessarily right for me, either period or at that time.

Part of me does want to be married or engaged and settled. But the other part of me realizes that I'm young, I'm at a great place in my life to get out and experience new things and new people, and I shouldn't be rushing into a forever relationship right now. I think basically that to me, marriage represents stability and certainty, which is something I don't necessarily have in the rest of my life. I don't have someone forever right now, I don't have a career path entirely chosen or mapped out, and I don't even have a place to live that isn't under my folks' roof.

I do have a lot of advantages, and I'm not knocking a single one of them. But in the big puzzle that is my life, there's an awful lot of pieces missing or turned around wrong. Mom always told me that when doing a puzzle, I should start with the edge pieces (this is the kind of helpful advice I got growing up; that and "don't assume, 'cause you just make an ass out of you and me" -- no helpful words of wisdom like, "don't date your immature coworker, he'll just turn out to be an asshole" or "your hormones are not the smartest chemicals in your body"), and that's what I'm trying to do now. Job, school, savings... those are the edge pieces. The forever guy and the rest of it? That's the centre, and it comes later.

Hopefully not too much later. I'd still like to have a few good years left in me.

Anyhow, that's my little bit of introspection and philosophy for the evening. I'm going to bed at a decentish hour for once. :)

I have other things to write later, when I have time, but for now, have a link I got off Dave Barry's blog: http://www.hamsterforpresident.com. I think it's a good idea for Mark's new baby.

Oh, and while I'm here, further proof that Digger is insane: Last night, I was in the washroom, using the facilities. He came along and stuck his paw into the garbage can no less than four times to try to fish something out to play with (there was only one thing in the bottom of the can). It was hilarious to watch, 'cause his paw wasn't quite long enough to reach the bottom, and so he kept making these little hops when he tried to get into it...

Right now he's trying to fish something out of my own garbage. I blame my parents for this behaviour; they leave dental floss hanging over the edge of the garbage can and Digger (and Chloe used to, too) thinks this is the greatest toy ever. Sometimes he has very simple tastes, but I love him. He's crazy. :)

I spent several hours last night applying to jobs that I found through the government site. But the time I finished writing a billion cover letters, my brain was very melted and in need of humourous conversation. I wound up chatting with Angus for quite some time, which was most excellent; I don't get to talk to him enough. I also spoke briefly with Ben and then Mark when he returned home, drunk. No real blackmail possiblities there, unfortunately.

I also caught up on all those Emode Match emails that were long overdue. I was in a very writy mood, so it was nice to get them all taken care of at once.

Okay, now I'm taking off. Laters. :)

You have a dominant kiss- you take charge and make
sure your partner can feel it! Done artfully,
it can be very satisfactory if he/she is into
you playing the dominant role MEORW!


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ye gads. I wrote a lot today, none of which appeared on any site. Now my brain is tired. I sleep now, write more later. Writing my last email, my brain just shut off. I think I was coherent to the end of it, though. If not... sorry, dude. :) Byebye.

Jen, your sense of humor is Banter

Like a king of pinball, you've made an art of playing off of people because your sense of humor is all about banter. Like many great comedians before you, a roundtable of friends, or a roomful of targets, is the catalyst for what makes you laugh. It brings out the wit — and sometimes the nitwit — in everyone.

It's quantity, not quality that matters as you and your friends alternate outbursts like the riffs of a hit single. Here's the bottom line: You're a social creature. Other people's inside jokes even strike you as funny. You manage to gravitate toward people who can appreciate a tall tale and you've probably never hesitated to fire off a zinger — even in a roomful of strangers. So keep it up with your bantering methods. Laughter, after all, keeps the world going 'round.

Could it be? Is it possible that the Mother Ship really is calling me home?

I'll post more details after Wednesday, when I have 'em.

To note: Both the UBFM and the coworker's favourite meals were pork chops. Could this be a trend? From now on, ask people what their favourite meal is. If pork chops, avoid this person!

Okay, gotta get moving. :)

Ah yes, and before I forget again (even though this is going to come through late), Happy International Women's Day. :)



Some more updating from since that last one... I'm such a terrible person. I went to the pet store with Mark, on a quest to finally get him a betta fish. We didn't get a betta fish. Instead, we got a special kind of fish; the kind that's small, furry, cute and requires pine shavings and a cage to live in. Yeah, a hamster-fish.

She's really cute, a little teddy bear hamster. As of yet, she's nameless, but Mark appears to have caught my odd-naming of pets disease, and his possible names for her are up on his site. Do me a favour and email him, telling him not to call his poor hamster Bugeyes, would you? Thanks. :)

It was fun setting the cage up with him; Mark bought her a Safari Habitrail kit, which we managed to put together without breaking anything, each other, or fighting. Quite an accomplishment for a couple, no? As we were putting it together, Ben and his gf wandered in, so we gave them the rundown as Mark filled the cage with shavings. Shortly after we finished saying how the little hamster was going to have a quiet few days, as recommended, 'cause of the stress of the move, Ben's gf reached in the cardboard box to pull her out and got a bite for her troubles. This, boys and girls, is what happens when you don't consider the welfare of the animal you're handling, the fact that it's not the same animal as your own, and therefore not used to you or even that it doesn't have the same temperament... or the instructions that are being told to you. No matter, everyone was fine, and Mark's new baby asserted her dominance of his room. I should watch my back.

We got her all established, then sat around for at least forty-five minutes like the goons we are, grinning and commenting on her every action:
"Oh look! She's pushing sawdust around!"
"C'mon, climb up the ladder, that's right... oh no, she fell!"
"Okay, so that's her nest now, and that's ... where she's going to sleep. Where there's no sawdust."
"Aww, look! She's stuffing her cheeks!"
"Yay, she found the water dish and... oh no! She fell in! Funny hamster!"
(Mark squeezes the water bottle to produce a drop of water to show her what it's for and gets one on her, so she uses it. Next time she touches the water bottle, however, she runs across the cage to the litterbox and hides in it.) "Oh, look... she's afraid of the water bottle. That's no good!"

Anyhow, she seemed to settle in rather nicely by the time we had to take Mark to work. In that time, she'd formed a huge pile of shavings in one corner, checked out an apple stick, emptied another corner of shavings, eaten some seeds, nibbled on a healthy pellet, stuffed her cheeks full of seeds and shavings, drunk some water, kicked a bunch of litter out of the litterbox (damn hamster!) and explored everything but the exercise wheel (that's my kind of hamster). I told you we'd watched her like goons. :)

Came home and started the family diet with a dinner of broiled skinless chicken with hot sauce, and Dad and I had noodlies and vegetables. I only ate about half of my chicken (probably because as I was starving before dinner was ready, I polished off a bunch of peanut M&Ms). After dinner, we retired to the basement and watched Tadpole, which Mark and I rented once upon a time and never watched, and Road to Perdition, which I hadn't originally wanted to see, but ended up enjoying somewhat.

I ate some chocolate eggs, and was going to offer some to Dad when Mom told me not to; apparently he's not allowed anything like that. Dad was commenting at one point how he wanted munchies, and he knew that was going to drive him nuts, and he kept threatening to impound my chocolate (although Mom was doing a good job of that herself). Anyhow, it all led up to Mom saying, "You want some chocolate? Go have a glass of water!", which I thought was absolutely hilarious.

"I'm PMSing and really craving chocolate... better go grab myself some water!"

Anyhow, I had a huge orange and Digger and Shadow jumped up on the couch. Shadow rested herself mainly on me, and Digger settled by my feet, where Dad rubbed his ears and head for about an hour solid. They were both quite pleased with the experience, although the polar fleece blanket looked pretty awful afterwards.

After the movies ended, we were flipping channels on the television and found some old 70s show called "Emergency (some number)." The secondary plot involved some woman who was trying to take her son, whom she'd kidnapped, out of state, in spite of some terrible illnesses they both had. I started making fun of a UFO-shaped lamp at one point, then, when the woman said something about "How could I have done this? I just wanted my son!", I chimed in with "That's okay, you're just a woman; you didn't know better." I said I was waiting to see them pinch her butt and call her cupcake. Dad said they did that in the 50s and 60s shows, not the 70s. Then he started critiquing my education, asking if that's the kind of thing they taught me. :)

I then commented that I'd seen a 70s porn once with John Holmes in it, to which my dad said, "Johnny Wadd!" (one of his characters from a series of movies). I said that it wasn't a Johnny Wadd film, that it was another that Holmes had a bit part in... then I followed it up with, "Well, so to speak." Dad had a good laugh at that, and called me gross or something. I was in fine form tonight. :)

Hrm. My fish are giving me a headache. Why? 'Cause you need to buy more drugs from me! My empire is stagnant!

Oh yeah, and I finished up with the archives in The Whore's Boudoir. They're now posted over at this site in a nice article by title/date format, and you can read through them one after another. I like it... and not just 'cause I did it. :) Lemme know what you think of it, either in comments there or here; I check 'em both regularly.

Heard from one of the web site guys that I wrote a note to, asking "please let me write for you!" He's willing to test run my stuff and likes what he's seen of it here, so that's pretty cool. Of course, it's another of the "write whatever you want" deals, which means that I, of course, cannot think of anything suitable. *grumble* Maybe I'll write about how my fish are trying to kill me... oh yeah, did that. Meh. I'll think of something, if this headache goes away. :P

Okay, now I really have to go to bed. Staring off into space isn't really getting me anywhere but closer to tired. Last thing; I also got the nails redone, so now they're nice looking again, and quite a fair bit shorter than last time. Now they don't interefere whatsoever with my typing, which is nice. :)

At least the headache has receeded, so I can think again. Sorta. :P

At the time of my writing this, I currently stand 5 hits away from crossing 9000 views.

I find that amazing. I remember when crossing 5000 was incredible to me, and now 10,000 is within sight. Wow. I don't know what it is that keeps you guys coming back, but I definitely appreciate it.

So, what have the last few days involved? Well, last night I caught the production of "Grease" with Ben and Mark. My buddy Gabe was in the cast, and I love the show, so I had two good excuses to go and catch it.

I realized something last night about the character of Danny Zucko. In the movie version of Grease, he's played by John Travolta, and I think Travolta does an excellent job. The singing, the dancing (which he helped to choreograph), it's all great. The character of Danny is a bit torn; does he save face by playing the tough, or does he be the more sensitive guy that he can be (the guy who takes up track because Sandy thinks jocks do something for the school), the guy who's excited to see her after thinking he wouldn't see her again?

For some reason, this combination has always grabbed me. I've never had a particular affinity to "bad boys" -- motorcycles and leather jackets don't get me wet, nor does a bad attitude -- but I like the contrast in Danny's character. He's obviously crazy for Sandy, but he's dumb and awkward in front of her, and that shows. I think it's the fact that a guy can be so affected by someone that he wants to change for her -- not because she acts it, but because he knows that there's nothing wrong with perhaps doing something a bit more valid with his life than stealing hubcaps and having rumbles -- and he wants to make her happy.

I ran into my friend Sara there, and got to check out her new bf. He seems like a cutie, although I didn't talk to him, so it's hard to really know.

After coming back from the show, Mark and I rented The Wedding Singer (although we have yet to watch it), and chowed on nachos that Ben made before hitting the sack.

More news from yesterday: changed my credit card to a low interest one (with an annual fee), and bumped the limit so I can get further into debt... and not freak out now about making sure my credit card is paid off so that my cell bill can get paid.

I was also about to book another appointment to redo my grad photos. I'm going to actually get my hair cut and styled that day, so hopefully I won't look like an exhausted fat drunk in them this time. I think that was a big part of the problem with the last ones -- they were hideous. :P I have them in my room right now, and I was very tempted to put a book on top of them so that the ugliness would not escape to permeate the room... but I didn't.

I learned that my submissions were rejected for the first round of website writings, but I'll be considered next time around. Suckage, but at least it's less competition in my brain for the Whore's Boudoir stuff.

What else? Thursday I got together with Mark and gord for dinner, and had a great time. I love having a guy friend I can talk to about sex matters who shares a similar perspective to me. It's funny explaining female orgasms to someone who has no interest in being present for one. :)

I ran into Diana on the bus ride home Thursday, but we didn't get much chance to talk. It's weird that some people who were so major in my life in first, second or third year barely turn up now. Kinda sad, but it just goes to show how busy we all are, and how much school was what kept us connected.

Anyhow, must shower and go fish shopping with Mark now, before heading home. I'm spreading the betta love. :)

*rofl*


""Which cocktail are you?""
brought to you by Quizilla

I had stuff to write about today, but I got caught up in a fun book (another to add to the list of ones to write about), and I've been tinkering with the Whore's Boudoir. If you're familiar with the old layout, check out the new one and tell me what you think. Show some love for the new one, and if you'd like to know what's going on for it, there's always the (temporary) news page.

The fish in the bottom tank are apparently in ecstacy; there are all kinds of bubbles present. :)

For now, I will get (not enough) sleep before I go see my doc in the morning. As I've been saying to Mark, gotta get the baby checked out. ;)

Relax, I'm not preggers. It's just kinda funny to joke about; people always assume something's drastically wrong (especially guys) when you say you have an appointment with your doc. A lot of guys don't go in for regular physical exams, whereas many of the women I know do. I do the once-a-year thing 'cause at the very least if I didn't, my doc wouldn't renew my prescription. That and I just can't bear to go another 365 days without the friendly speculum. What a fucking awful process... I want to say demeaning, but I'm not entirely sure if it is or not. I'll talk about it in great detail tomorrow after my memory is refreshed in order to imagine the menfolk who read this site cringing and crossing their legs in sympathy.

Many of 'em just don't quite understand what's involved with a lovely PAP smear and speculatory experience... and I'm more than happy to share. Why should I keep the horror to myself?

Before I crash for the night, here's a fun experience for you to imagine: picture a 16-year old girl, about to get her first PAP smear and "down there" exam done by a GP who isn't her regular one (long story). Older man, somewhat brusque and brisk in his procedures, barely speaks to the girl the entire time he's examining her (the routine 'before' stuff). Time for the embarrassing stuff; legs up in the stirrups, wide apart, braced in a truly awkward manner...

Wait, let me explain that one a bit better. Sure, flat on your back, about to have sex (or actually having it), your legs are spread apart. However, you usually have something against which to brace 'em or wrap 'em, right? You can angle them however you want (within reason) so that you're comfortable, or you can even wrap 'em around your sweetie's neck. Guys lying on their backs have it quite easy, even if they do have their legs in odd positions.

There is simply no way for me to adequately describe how much fun it is to try to spread my legs that wide with nothing to properly brace them against in order that a doctor might get up close and personal. Now, my GP has a wall against which I can brace one knee, but that poor right knee of mine is flailing off in space, and it's not exactly a happy camper. And before I forget -- you never have your butt quite hanging off the edge enough, nor do you have your legs wide enough apart. Do you have any idea how much fun it is to try to scoot your paper gown-covered body down a paper-covered examining table so that your ass might dangle off the edge of a table? With your legs braced in stirrups and no real way to hang on?

I mean sure, I've had sex on the kitchen table like any regular person, but that's a bit different. There you have someone holding onto your legs or something so you at least have some support... although maybe there stirrups would come in handy, too. Hmm...

But back to my first story. This exam table was not up against a wall, so I had two knees flailing around, and no experience with this kind of thing either. I'm lying there, uncertain of what to expect, when the doctor finally deigns to speak (still brusquely, I'd like to point out!):
"You know about the ring of muscle?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Don't tighten it, otherwise this will be very uncomfortable."

And with those soothing, encouraging words, I got a "who's your daddy?!" from a person who was, up until that point, a stranger to me.

I'd like to further point out that that was my first and only pelvic exam (the technical term for having a complete stranger with a medical degree finger you... okay, insert his medical finger into you). My GP doesn't do it; this may be a failing on his part, or it may be that he doesn't feel the need. Either way, I'm rather glad he doesn't. The speculum is bad enough.

And as I said, you'll be sure to get the complete rundown of that one tomorrow, although I suppose this has been a pretty thorough rendition as it were.

Cramps, speculums, strange fingers in our tender parts, and the ability to squeeze a 9-lb screaming watermelon out of a lemon-sized hole. Isn't being female grand?

Mind you, there are the boobs.

Tom Lehrer quotes:

On ageing: "It is a sobering thought that when Mozart was my age he had been dead for two years."

On performing: "It isn't as though I have to do this, you know, I could be making, oh, $3000 a year just teaching."

On his claimed Latin translation of The Wizard of Oz: "[it] remains even today the standard Latin version of that work..

If you get the chance, check out some of his music. He's hilarious. :)

Take the What
animal best portrays your sexual appetite?? Quiz




Take the What
animal best portrays your sexual appetite?? Quiz


I had debates over a few of the questions, so I took it twice to see what would happen. Sounds like two different things, but they work well within me. :)

Okay, so Blogger totally lost one of my posts. I wrote last night saying that I'd provided content in response to something Ben had written on unCultured, but it's not here, and I didn't accidentally post it anywhere else.... I am confused.

No matter, now I can write all that I'd originally intended to, but didn't, because it was 3:30 in the morning and eventually, I had to go to bed. Which I did, around quarter to four. Urgh. I have no brain cells, and work is going to suck tonight. I want a day off, and it looks like I'll be taking tomorrow off to write my paper, and perhaps even Tuesday, depending on how things go.

Three different people have now given me the "go to class" lecture. In first and second year, not going to class was -- *gasp!* -- unthinkable. Then I started noticing how I spend three hours round trip on public transportation to go in for a 3 hour lecture that isn't always worth my time... and so I started realizing that if I stayed home, I could get reading or writing done, or even just have an evening to myself. Hell, I've been in school for the last 18 years. I'm finally at a point where once in awhile, it's nice to go out with friends and try to avoid thinking about that looming whatever, be it a paper, reading I haven't done, or morning class. I'm doing well in my classes, my marks are good (well, I don't really know how this semester looks, but overall), and frankly, every now and then, I want a break. Blah.

Let's see, what have the last few days been? Well, Friday night I got together with my classmate for our presentation on Tuesday. We spent six hours together, and got nine slides (our entire presentation) done. We had fun chatting about non-school related things, I told her all about Mark and she was happy for me, and it was a nice way to spend a school-project evening.

Then I went over and was tired at Mark, so I left for home. Yesterday, I managed to get one article read, two articles for the magazine finished and written, and a response on unCultured to Ben (as noted). In the afternoon, I went with my dad to run errands, and I picked up two new fish and some more knowledge about bettas. I moved everyone around when I got home, so the arrangements are as such: Dr. Seuss and Stinky now share a double tank. Stinky used to sit on top of this tank that housed Dr. Seuss and Johnny Storm, and so he spent a great deal of last night posturing and telling Dr. Seuss that he's the man. So far, Dr. Seuss remains unconvinced.

The two new fish share a double tank beneath Dr. Seuss and Stinky. I bought a beautiful royal blue fish, whom I've named Peacock for both his colour and his posturing ways (he was the first one to issue a challenge and continues to do so), and the second fish is a red, though not as vivid a red as Johnny Storm had been, and his name is Stick, 'cause I have a twisted sense of humour.

While I was setting everyone up, I happened to read the back of the box that the new double tank came in (I am donating the single tank to Mark, in an effort to push him a little further along into fish ownership), and it said that one of the reasons for placing the two fish in close confines such as these was that it promoted the fish to display their colours and fins a bit more vividly, as a method of demonstrating dominance. They don't bash their heads against the divider -- they just splay their fins and the little ruff around their neck, and stare challengingly at one another. This just goes to show me that what I have are definitely male fish.

The guy at the store (hereafter known as 'the fish clerk') told me that bettas are bubble nest blowers; that when they're happy they go to the surface of the water and blow bubbles. This means that, contrary to the depression I thought Dr. Seuss might've been suffering, he was a happy little guy. He hasn't blown bubbles for awhile, but I think that's been the effect of losing Johnny Storm. I have hopes he'll recommence.

The fish clerk also said that they like to make these nests under something, so he gave me a lily pad that I've broken up into four and given one to each fish. I'm hoping they all might blow bubbles.

Finally, I was telling the fish clerk how I bought my fish based on whether they looked depressed and needed cheering up; he said that what he usually did when he noticed one seemed depressed was put it in the tank with the females, to help restore his vitality. He said that being surrounded by 15 females seemed to cheer them up.

So, there you have it; more than you ever needed or wanted to know about my betta adventure.

I watched Big Trouble last night, with the company of the cats. Shadow was feeling very snuggly, and spent nearly three hours straight asleep on my thigh, alone. This was while I watched the movie and flipped between new episodes of MadTV and SNL, then watched the old SNL in its entirety. The movie itself wasn't too bad, although I think the book (written by Dave Barry) was possibly better. Puggy was played by Jason Lee, and while he did a good job of it, I wouldn't have pictured him as the character based on what I recall of his description in the book. No matter.

Wednesday night I watched Road Trip with Mark. I'm now allowed to make fun of this movie as much as I want -- d'ya hear that, Greg and Mark? That's right. I watched it, beginning to end, and now -- I can make fun of it with aplomb. I still won't be watching LotR, but then again, I don't make fun of it. I just say I don't want to watch it.

Anyhow, time for breakfast, cat abuse and other daily events.