Okay, so I'm finally moving out of this lethargy or depression or whatever you want to call it that I seemed to be experiencing for the last several months.

Ironically, I started this post some time ago and never really got around to finishing it.

What's there to say? Well, the DB and I have pretty much finished all of the unpacking and setting up that we're going to do. Most of my books (say, 97%) are in storage, which is frustrating, but saved time on unpacking. I got rid of a fair bit of stuff, though probably not as much as the DB might've liked, but whatever, I did what I was ready to do.

The kitties handled things fairly well, or at least as well as could be expected. I had them shut up in a room in the basement (yes, we now have multiple floors!), and I let Thena out to explore a little bit when the guys were packing up the DB's place. She was putting on a brave face, but stuck really close to her mommy and acted extremely sucky for the duration. Venus stuck her head in a corner, tried to hide in a little cubby area, and finally settled for hiding under the stairs and staying there as long as she could.

We gave them access to the house after everyone had left, and they spent most of the night under the bed. I woke up during the night to see Venus sleeping on the bed, which was encouraging, but she was back and hidden in the morning.

In the end, Venus ended up with a bladder infection, so the money that I 'saved' on my first month of cohabition and then some went into paying for her to get tested and treated. Fortunately, they love her at the vet, because she's so placid and freaked out when she's there that they don't have any difficulty doing horrible things to her (that visit: a urinalysis, which consists of a big needle in the bladder; x-rays, which means kitty has to be held on her side while loud noises go on; and an enema, which is just plain rude, no matter how you feel afterwards). Apparently when they picked her up after one of the tests, probably the x-rays, she rested her head on the person's shoulder, which is heart-melting no matter who you are.

Shortly after that, the DB's parents came to stay with us for a weekend, bringing with them a huge couch that belongs to Venus and took a lot of effort to get into the house, a coffee table and two end tables. The stress of that visit and commotion (which included the DB's uncle drunkenly yelling at Venus to come up and hang out with everyone) led to some problems as well, but nothing bladder-related. DB's mom was completely understanding; cat people are great. The DB's a cat person as well, but his patience with this stuff is shorter than mine. Ah well.

My folks came out to the house (which they'd seen the previous weekend) for a brunch with DB's folks. Everything went well, there was no bloodshed and everyone seemed to get along quite well. My parents took the opportunity to tell stories about how horrible I was as a child -- though they refrained from telling the ones involving poo -- and I think DB's folks did the same about him. It's since gotten back to me that my parents have talked to coworkers/my sister about the visit, and I guess they were impressed -- both at my culinary feats, though DB did most of the cooking that morning, and at the overall tidiness of the house. I was telling DB about this last night (since I only learned of some of it from my sister during our Christmas shopping expidition), and yadda yadda yadda, I think I now have permission to nag at him about stuff. And yes, I'm ashamed of myself for using a Seinfeld-ism.

Last weekend was the DB's work Christmas party, and pictures from that have yet to surface, but I hope shall soon. I saw at least one or two of us that were taken that looked quite nice -- of course, that's in miniature. Who knows what ridiculous faces I'll be making when the pics are seen full-sized?

I've been doing a lot -- a lot -- of thinking lately about relationships and people I've dated and such the last while, but I'm not going to relate it all here now. I think this is going to be long enough to test most people's tolerances as it is. I think in a lot of ways the internet and email and instant messenger programs frustrate the crap out of me. I've saved many past chat logs or letters or emails for various reasons, and sometimes if I happen upon them and read them, I wonder why I didn't speak up more forcefully? But when it comes to certain personality types or people, there's just no winning. I've dated the victim mentality types, and I've dated those who had the world on their side and nothing short of marriage would've sufficed (and still not won over the friends), and I've ... blah. I don't even know where I'm going with this, or what I'm trying to say. I guess the short version is that life isn't fair, people aren't always going to like you, and no one really wants to see that they have personality flaws that can contribute to the demise of a relationship -- myself included. I've acted well in the past, and I've acted poorly in the past. I can be an amazing girlfriend, and I can be a very remote, distant one. I'm not an ice queen by anyone's stretch of the imagination, but the very fact that I don't always act as emotional as some (i.e., Smooshy, drama queen extraordinaire), has meant that I've been incorrectly labeled as such (UBFM, Smooshy, coworker, to some extent the AB). The problem with me is that I can be determined (bull-headed, I think my mom has said), and sometimes, though not always, I will act in the way I best see fit, even if it means hurting people's feelings. If it's for the greater good of a friendship/relationship/person's sanity, sometimes it's better to hurt someone and move on.

I think; like I said, I don't know what I'm saying, and as always, I'm trying to cast myself in the best possible light. Is it a strength that I can admit to past misdeeds and learn from them, or is it a character flaw that I've acted poorly?

People bug me. Even my friends bug me at times. I dislike hypocrisy, and I dislike when people try to impose their life view on me. Just because you have chosen a particular path as the ideal one for you does not mean it will have the same benefits or results for me.

No, supervisor of mine, I will not be having children in the near future just because a) three women who work directly around me are pregnant; b) I'm living with someone of the male persuasion; c) our parents have met. It is not inevitable, particularly as I am well-acquainted with birth control, I can keep my knees together (shut up, it happens), I have no desire for children at this point in my life, the DB is in no rush to have children at this point in his life, we have not discussed having children together, and I'd rather like to be married for a little bit first, before I start having children.

I also do not view children as the ultimate by-product of my existence on this earth; if it should happen to pass that I or my future spouse are sterile, then so be it. I refuse to feel like I'm less of a person because of it. I do not view children as a miracle, I view them as a product of biology. We are, as a species, meant to reproduce. It's something our bodies were designed to do, much like bleed, breathe, sleep, run, walk, pee, shit, fart, and so on. Granted, I don't equate having kids with peeing (FSM save me if I give birth as often as I pee), but having had several women liken childbirth to taking a giant poop, well... it's hard not to draw a comparison somewhere.

As a general rule, any two idiots can create a child together. I've known many idiots who have. It takes a real person to be a good parent -- and I've known many of those, too.

Just because I have a uterus does not mean that my destiny is to have children. That is my choice, and the choice of my future spouse's, and is no one's business but our own. And I just know that this person is someone whose head would more or less explode if I sat down some day and explained that I would never be having children, if that was the choice I made. Again, it's no one's business but my own, and it shouldn't be a conversation I have to have with a supervisor at work unless it's to say that in x number of months I'll be needing maternity leave, but if it comes to pass... I'll just get the "you'll change your mind" speech that will make my blood boil, I'm sure.

Some of this is coming about because two different friends/acquaintances have recently discussed having themselves surgically sterilized to combat problems they've been having for years with regards to their reproductive organs. And I thought about it last night and thought how unfair it is to have to make that decision at what constitutes a relatively young age (they're both around 24, if memory serves), and how unlikely it is that a man would ever have to opt to be sterilized to address a problem he'd been having with his reproductive tract. Yes, girl parts, in and out, are much more complicated on the whole than boy parts, but boy parts are also much more researched and studied and understood. It wasn't that long ago that science assumed that women were basically men turned inside out.

Anyhow, this stream of consciousness has been brought to you by my cold (and lack of cold medication), and I think I'll end it here before I start babbling about how unfair it is that some of the seats on the bus are too high for my feet to touch the ground, so any sharp turns result in a rather precarious bracing exercise for me, especially if I'm in an outside seat. But I do enjoy busing again, because I get to read once more.

Incoherence, ho!

Also, it's really nice to look at a moderately healthy bank balance and realize that all of that money is actually yours, because you've already set aside the money you need for rent, and don't have to worry about surviving for two weeks on the leftover. Take that, old expensive noisy apartment!

Finally (I promise, I really am leaving soon -- all of this babbling has really made me have to pee, never mind the large coffee I drank before starting this), I thought moving to the suburbs meant a leave from noisy neighbours and ridiculous parties. The DB and I were woken a few weekends ago at 4 a.m. by the neighbours across the street having a brawl that included someone chasing another with a 2x4. I'm pretty sure I've heard them many times since, and I have to wonder if they aren't frat guys sharing a rental space. Ah well, that was a few weeks ago, and there haven't been problems since, *knock wood*.

I had dreams last night about two different exes. That was a strange coincidence, and neither of the dreams was especially welcome.

ETA: Neither of the dreams was erotic or sexual, just the exes featured in the dreams were not the ones of whom I have a lot of fond memories. Some of the Smooshy, none of the coworker -- if you wanted to know about whom I was speaking.

Dear Internets:

Once again, I have caught up with you. Please, do not update anything for a little while so that I can rest once more.

Thank you,
jen

Okay, I have many things I want to write about/relate that I do plan on writing/relating, but right now, there's one particular feeling that's overriding it all:

I hate people.

Good news and bad news all around, but the good news is twofold now:

1. Got into the competition for the job promotion at work, so that's a first step.

2. Got the townhouse we applied for, and I'm moving at the end of the month.

So many things to arrange over the next while, including getting rid of a tonne of my crap...

Well, that's just frustrating. I've just spent the last few weeks working on a new template for my blog, only to find that there is an updated version of this template that I could use that would incorporate some of the changes I want to make.

Ah well, at least it's been good practice with the stupid CSS, and I've learned important lessons, like if, in the process of going back and forth between Dreamweaver and the Blogger template preview, you somehow manage to copy-and-paste your code so it appears twice in the same file, it'll be very difficult to get your page to display properly, and it may even appear twice on the page, leading to some vast confusion on your part. That will also explain why some of the CSS appears twice, and why it doesn't seem to disappear, even if you've removed a whole bunch of the classes.

What else? Nothing much exciting comes to mind at the moment, or at least nothing I'm willing to commit to at the moment. ;) For now, I'm going back to the template, and it may even be up before many of you make it to this post. :)

Good God, I seem to keep going a long time between updates. Urgh.

Partly it's because I don't have a lot of new and exciting things to complain or talk about; really, my life is fairly routine at the moment. I go to work, I hang out with the Dear Boyfriend, I sometimes see friends (who also seem to all be hiding out with their Dear Significant Others, or they hate me, your choice as to which), I stress about not doing anything for school, I try to exercise, and I poke the kitties.

I have gotten addicted to The L Word, so my path to becoming a lesbian is pretty set, and I have finally gotten my hands on ichaseboys.com and whoresboudoir.com as my own, personal, I own all the rights and you can't have them fucker URLs, so that's kinda nice. The hosting company Gord had originally purchased them through is a bunch of useless fucking asshole bastards, so I don't recommend you use them, and if I was at work where I had the contact information, you'd better believe that I'd be posting it all over this site right now. But I don't, and my memory sucks, so I just get to rail about it.

DB switched gyms the other day (finally), and we checked out the facility he's most likely going to be using at the same time. It has a women's-only section, as well as the co-ed area, and I was telling him I was tempted to keep working out in the co-ed section, as opposed to my quickie one, because no women were there. I'd also pointed out to him that he was the smallest guy in the place, because I'm nice that way. This is partly because DB stands 5'9" and weighs, according to the scales that he stood on while we were there, 135lbs. Me, on the other hand, I stand 5'2" (yeah, I'm wee and I like it), and according to the scales, weigh 160lbs... so it's time to kill myself.

*sigh*

I did a run that night, and while it started out sucking a bit, I was able to find my rhythm and go at a steady pace and a decent length of time. Including the 5-minute cooldown, some of which is still done while running, I went for 28 minutes, and covered about 2.2 miles -- which isn't exactly fast, but it was a pace I was able to maintain, and I'm happy about it. DB wants me to be able to participate in the 5km run for the cure run with him, but we aren't exactly doing much in the way of training to get to that point. Thursday's run was the second for me that week though, so I'm doing okay -- just need to get out more. Story of my life.

Anyhow, I need to grab a shower and get moving on the day (also story of my life), as I have to meet DB for lunch and steal his car for errands. Apparently the kitties get upset when they don't have litter to do track around my apartment.

Everyone go learn how to Jennif.

Updated the Whore's Boudoir.

And here I am, another year older (and a few days). What has the last year brought us? Several failed relationships, some more debt, some more mileage on the bike, some schoolwork (and subsequent ignored schoolwork), some work stress... all in all, another year in general.

I was trying to remember where I was this time last year, and it involved the Newf and my unwilling abstinence. From there I dated the AB, then the car boy who disappeared, then the AB, then the French Boy. And now? Well, now I'm dating the Dear Boyfriend, a guy who snuck completely under my radar and yet seems quite right for me. Who would've thunk it?

And just because I won't remember to post this later:



I thought it was Sunday this morning when I woke up. Very depressing to learn otherwise. Also, having your cat lick inside your nose to say she loves you is sweet, but ultimately very gross.

I saw SuperBad with the Dear Boyfriend on Saturday, and I bought a new helmet that same morning. It's white with purple and blue and has butterflies on it. It's rather girly, and that's why I got it.

I also horrified some pre-teen kids at this petting zoo setup on Sunday by telling Dear Boyfriend about JJ's tales of goat castration; apparently they scream like people when you do it, which makes it fairly disturbing. Warping young minds, that's me.

OMG ponies. In my next life, I'm totally coming back as an otter, and I will be irresistible.

Found via Cute Overload.

In the annual Bulwer-Lytton contest for deliberately bad writing, Bob Millar of Sweden won in the detective category with, "I'd been tailing this guy for over an hour while he tried every trick in the book to lose me: going down side streets, doubling back, suddenly veering into shop doorways, jumping out again, crossing the street, looking for somewhere to make the drop, and I was going to be there when he did it because his disguise as a postman didn't have me fooled for a minute."

One from June (see, I promised I was writing!):

Tuesday night, I apparently snored for a bit (it happens; I’m usually just a very loud breather), and talked about something, sounding rather annoyed or angry.

Last night, Thena was in a pissy mood and kept growling when I tried to pat her before sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, Dear Boyfriend awoke and was speaking to me about something that of course I can’t remember now; at the time, it made sense, except for the middle part, which I kept having him repeat. I think I eventually realized he was demented and just went back to sleep.

We had our annual work BBQ today, and because he had the day off and lives nearish my work (actually, my work is pretty much right between our places), I invited him to join. When I say work BBQ, I mean the entire building is part of this – over 500 people – and people often have their significant others and children join in, because there are always games and other activities planned.

He readily agreed, and we spent the time walking around and talking. I was actually shocked that he was not only willing to come, but did so and really seemed to enjoy my company -- which goes to say something pretty telling about some of my ex-boyfriends.

And, clearing out the archives, a post from May:

Quickly, because I don't have the time or brain for a proper, full-length update:

I have a new temporary roommate. I'm nervous about it, because I've never lived with anyone else before and I know how fussy I can get about some things (and completely uncaring about others), but we'll see how it goes. It's only for 2, maybe 3 months at worst, so it really shouldn't be that awful.

I'm a mean mom and tossed out a bunch of cardboard boxes that Venus liked to hide behind. She still hides in the same location, but it doesn't seem to be nearly as effective.

I saw Pirates 3 on the weekend. Didn't stay through the credits, but I found a clip of the scene at the end, and I found discussion on what it means. Be warned, the movie is long -- including the five million commercials and trailers we saw, it ends up running 3 hours. It's also somewhat confusing, and feels like it's lacking some of the character that really helped set the tone for the first movie, and somewhat for the second, too.

I saw Shrek 3 last weekend, disappointing as well. I liked some of the musical touches -- Danse Macabre, "One" from A Chorus Line, the original Snow White song, "My Favourite Things," but overall... eh.

I watched Epic Movie with R and N. Not a good movie, which was about what I expected. Possibly slightly better than Date Movie, but not by too much.

Dear Internets,

This is pretty awkward -- it's been so long, I don't really know what to say. I've wanted to write, many times, but I just kept getting tongue-tied, or distracted, and then the moment was lost.

I've missed you, I really have. You were always there for me, through so much, and I feel like such a jerk for abandoning you like I have. Please don't think you haven't been on my mind, because you have been.

It's just... it's just hard. See, I want to talk to you about work, but I've always made a policy about keeping you and work separate. It's not fair of me to only complain to you about my job, when I know that you aren't really full-time and so it would only seem like bragging or something.

Then, well, then I wanted to tell you about this guy I've been seeing, but again, I didn't want it to seem like bragging. I like him, internet, I really do, and as much as I'd like to write all kinds of details about him, I don't want to be all creepy about it. Suffice it to say, he's a good guy, he makes me laugh, and we're happy together. I'll share photos soon, I promise.

Finally, the cats. Oh, the cats and how they amuse me, as always. Recently, Venus was trying to knead her paws on me (otherwise known as giving me a belly massage, or a butt massage, depending on where she's pressing) during a fairly private moment. She then settled down, half on me and half on the bed, quite content with her lot in life. I think she was a bit upset when I dislodged her, but really, what should I have done?

The girls made me laugh another day, but of course I can't remember the reason at the moment. I do know that having a cat attack your head from your headboard right as you're winding down from a good orgasm is a tad distracting, but really, who hasn't been there?

I threatened to lock Venus in the spare bedroom last night if she didn't let me sleep, and I think the threat took -- she was quiet, and we slept the night away, undisturbed. It was quite lovely, really.

Otherwise, what to say? I accompanied the Dear Boyfriend to his brother's wedding in Toronto a few weeks ago. It was a bit of an all-over-the-place trip; I spent a few days with him and his parents in his hometown (I'd met them before, don't worry), then we spent a night with a cousin of his and the cousin's family, and then it was off to Toronto for the wedding and other associated festivities. Dear Boyfriend's family really knows how to party, and they're very warm and friendly people -- they quite liked me, or seemed to, even the ones who had never met me before. They'd apparently already figured out who I was though, and several took the time to tell me they already had my wedding scheduled. Dear Boyfriend said they were doing the same or similar to him even when he wasn't dating anyone, but I still chose to take it in a positive light. :)

Aside from Dear Boyfriend's massive alcohol intake and subsequent ensuing toilet-hugging, the week away was quite nice. We wrapped everything up with a trip to Wonderland on the Monday, organized by the bride and groom. In all of my previous visits to Wonderland (and there've been a fair number), I've always been hesitant to go on any of the big rides, because I really dislike the plummeting feeling I get in my stomach on anything with a big hill. This trip, I went on every major rollercoaster except the Bat (which none of us went on), and DropZone (which I vetoed completely, and Dear Boyfriend let me get away with that). Top Gun, the first coaster of the day, was the worst one, and DragonFyre was fun except for when it bashed my ears up at the end of the trip and made my still-healing piercing bleed.

Many of the new rides have cameras facing on each set of seats, and the video for us on Vortex shows Dear Boyfriend looking over at me, realizing I have my eyes closed, and laughing. He didn't seem to realize until that point -- in the afternoon, I might add -- I had been doing all of the rides with my eyes closed. I did open them for brief moments on a few, and I had them open for about half of DragonFyre. He was busy telling me each point we were going through, and when he mentioned we were on the first corkscrew, I decided to open my eyes -- to discover we were upside down. I yelled a bit about that, but wasn't actually upset, just was having fun. Being upside down doesn't bother me; it's the deep valleys that does. So, the next trip will involve coaxing me to ride with my eyes open, I believe he's decided.

There are a few more possible trips in our future; he has tickets to a football game in Buffalo in the fall, which would entail a trip to and stay in Niagara, and a friend of his is getting married in Vegas next summer... plus there's the trip to some tropical southern location in March with one of his cousins here in the city, and that's something else to eagerly anticipate. We're also figuring on a trip to Montreal at some point, but without a clear date in mind; I want to show him the Biosphere at the least. Yay, penguins!

I made friends with a butterfly at the science centre in his hometown; it flew on to my map, and I carried it around for a good five minutes or so before it decided it had had enough. I felt honoured. :)

I've also been watching a lot of wedding-themed shows lately; damn you, Slice network. Party Mamas just makes me homicidal at the sense of entitlement of the mothers and daughters on the show -- I want to smack the lot of them. There was one episode with a woman throwing a circus-themed bat mitzvah party for her daughter that just seemed to play into almost every Jewish stereotype I've heard about... made me want to pull my hair out.

Why do I watch shows that make me mental? Because I'm an idiot, and it gives me someplace to channel my frustration. Of course, I went to a yoga/pilates course last night to try to channel those frustrations and release them, so maybe watching those shows isn't the best of ideas for me.

I've gotten somewhat frustrated at some of the presumptions of people, and some of them may recognize themselves in this post and for that I apologize, but I need content, and I need to vent:

• Just because I have a motorcycle does not mean I'm going to let you ride bitch.


• Corollary: just because you have a motorcycle license and need to practice riding does not mean I'm going to let you ride my bike.


• Corollary the second: just because you have a motorcycle license does not mean I'm going to let you ride my bike.

There are so many reasons that the above frustrates me, but the major part that I have to question is simply why people would presume the above. Why would someone assume I'd let them learn how to ride on my bike? Why would someone assume I'd give them my keys to let them ride my bike? Why do people assume I'll let them ride bitch on the back of my bike? Seriously, why? Is it just me that would think to ask, 'hey, do you take passengers?' instead of 'when do I get to ride on your bike?' Maybe not, maybe I'm just making stuff up. But to the people who don't have experience, or don't have experience with larger bikes (not that mine's huge, but...), why would you think I'd be willing to just hand over my keys and wave you on your way? I've got a fairly serious amount of money invested in this bike, and not just the purchase price, but the insurance as well (which, over the three-year span I'll have paid it, will amount to the same as what I paid for my bike now), and this is the first motor vehicle I've owned... I'd never assume I could borrow someone else's bike, and I have experience! Argh.

Okay, rant over for now. Moving on.

And to wrap up, a reason why I'm fun to have at a party: because when someone points out that one of my nipples is hard and visible through my quite-thin t-shirt, rather than get upset about it or try to hide, I start pinching and pulling at the other one so as to have a matched set. The damn things get hard in a stiff breeze -- it's a hell of a lot easier to get both hard than convince one to soften.

Anyhow internet, I really should log off; I don't even know if you're going to read this far, but if you do, I guess you get the payoff of reading about my nipples. Yay you, huh? I just want to wrap up by reminding you that I do love you and miss you, and I promise to make more efforts to keep in touch more. Okay?

Take care,
jen x

I was watching Robot Chicken today, and in one of their clips they equated The Core, which my friend Jay worked on, to terrorism. I'm way too amused by that.

I also cracked my trainer up today. Yesterday he told the desk clerk that he's used to candid answers from me, so today when he asked how I was doing, I said conflicted. He asked me, "conflicted?", so I told him that on the one hand, driving a motor vehicle around my city makes me homicidal, but on the other hand, I was wearing my underwear that had chickens on it and said "puk puk," and that amused me, so I was in a good mood.

He dropped his water bottle and bent over, laughing. I like making people laugh, especially if it's from saying something completely unexpected.

Although people are starting to expect the unexpected from me, so sometimes it gets harder to surprise them.

In other news, Dear Boyfriend told me yesterday that his aunt told his cousin's girlfriend that she adores me, and they both agreed that I talk a lot -- or that one doesn't have to worry about conversation when I'm around. Dear Boyfriend told me that it's not a bad thing, that I don't have to be self-conscious about it (as I am about everything), and told his folks and family that I come by it naturally, via my father (which is true).

I've been told that the brother's soon-to-be-wife, a Newf, is impossible to out-talk; I've also been told that the brother is even more quiet than Dear Boyfriend (who can get chatty, just apparently not so much with the family). I said that, as the brother is quieter, he had to date a Newf to balance him out, whereas Dear Boyfriend only had to go to a bluenoser. :)

From Fark.com:

I hope you change your mind soon. Our alliance with the spider kingdom depends on their perceived dominance of us over them. Remember our agreement with the spiders:

Spiders are free to live with man and eat the insects in our homes as long as they are never seen. Should a spider ever make itself visible to man, it has broken the agreement and must be killed.

Anyone up for a day showing of the new Harry Potter movie on Friday? I have the day off and Dear Boyfriend isn't interested in seeing it with me.

Ridiculous things I obsess over #196:

I have a mole/beauty mark on my face. You may have seen or noticed it in pictures. I happen to like it, and it represents a part of my face that I'm fairly used to.

Well, a few weeks ago I had a pimple or something under it, which of course I couldn't leave alone. I have problems; I think that much is obvious. Anyways, it ended up scabbing, I scratched at it a few times, and now, the mole is pretty much gone, aside from some pink/redness where everything is still healing.

For about two weeks or more (I heal slowly), I've been stressing about whether or not this mole will grow back. I like having it, I want to still have it, and I'm worried I won't have it anymore.

Yet I'm not really worried about my unpaid bills or school (okay, that one's a lie). I'm worried about a stupid mole on my face. :P