decision maker

as many of you know, i struggle with decisions. it's hard for me to choose. i am a libra after all. however, i think i have found the solution to my problems and if any of you should be going overseas in the very near future can you pick me up on of these babies. god i love japan they are always making things easier.

hot body wax

this is the quintessential girly dilemma...you have the best waxer in the city minding your collar and cuffs, grooming and maintaining your bikini line like a gardener at Versailles when whamo! the whole operation closes down and the lady with the wax is without a home.

then, we're forced to go and get waxed, merely waxed, not the artistry of the above-mentioned goddess who, one could compare her deft hand to a kitten licking on a stamp (can i get a hallelujah) - oh no my friends we are thrown into the power of a motley crew who would sooner (and quicker) leave you naked as a j-bird, bare as a coffee bean, with no more than a 'by your leave' than actually maintain the frikkin' air strip styles you have been sporting for ages.

then the goddess returns. a hopeful phone call with a salon name and phone number. you call it hoping to book soon. your air strip is all but a runway in some columbian field for druglords. alas, in a blurry underwater voice you hear "this is Franco, i'm not in right now..."

what kind of topsy turvy world are we living in, i ask you.

early morning jiggles

in a startling change of my usual morning ritual (shut off alarm, whimper, cry a little bit, beg for C to make breakfast followed by a whipping off of the covers while saying very bad words and going to the shower still saying very very bad words) I got up and went running. SHUT UP! I did so. I met up with two very lovely ladies by the names of M and L and we ran for 4K.

it's all hot and soppy wet outside, even at 6:30AM but i ran. and i felt new love and understanding for the kylie plan, the regime, that i started out lo' almost six months ago. i was right all along - it is a good idea and now all my bonbon eating, 24 'i love you kiefer' catatonia is catching up with me. now i have to cram all my fitness and ass-lifting into the next four weeks to meet my July 1 deadline., she says while eating and apple spelt SPELT! muffin. good gawd.

also, on my run, i could feel my bum bouncing up and down--more than my boobs. that ain't good.

ttc strike is good for my ego

i'm walking to work today, the way i usually do, except it's stinky hot outside and i can feel my panties sticking to my butt right where the globe of my cheeks hangs down a bit..oh yes, there is hang-age! and there is sweat on the backs of my knees...no my ass doesn't hang down that far! and i see this guy waiting at a streetcar stop. i take out my earbuds and say
"you're not waiting for a streetcar, are you?"
"uh yeah" he says.
"there's no service today. strike" i say.
"fuck"
"yeah" i say. and then i start walking and he starts walking beside me.
"so you're walking" he says.
"yup." i say.
"do you wanna-" he stops, then starts "do you wanna--?"... i look at him, do i wanna what?
"are you going south?" he asks.
"yes" i say.
"ummm...okay, well maybe...well, errr, i have to go this way" he says, pointing west down dundas.
"good luck" i say.
"nice to meet you" he says, from under his flop of hair. what a nice boy. not my usual morning conversation with the gypsies, tramps and thieves that line my route to work.

so that's new.

temper, temper

Like the rest of the world i'm fully inundated with all things DaVinci Code right now. Sure, it's a hateful place for god-fearing christians everywhere; a world filled with a scruffy Tom H sans curls (no doubt the mark of the devil) and Audrey T with her big empty eyes (and no ass to speak of, surely the work of the Evil One) and the happy, dulcet tones of Sir Ian (big, big gay dreamboat that he is - dude is SO going to hell)--the poor, poor church, how will they ever recover?

It must be a very taxing time indeed for the church. They really need to devote more resources, more energy to debunking a work of fiction. They have got to tackle this book, this movie, this ephemera head on. Everything else like the ongoing crisis of pedophile priests, abuses in aboriginal schools, war, and genocide need to go on the backburner for now. The fate of the church rests on this one piece of pop culture. A fictional account of what an alternative interpretation of the life of jesus christ might look like, much like, say, an alternative understanding of the shape of the earth, round vs. flat, or the solar-system, or gravity, or looking inside an atom, or mapping dna.

At least the pope has his billions of dollars and gold and secret prophecies (hello, fatima) to keep him warm at night. I'm sure that's a comfort. This must be very hard on them...i can only imagine, especially with their delicate relationship with the world of fact.

it's so terrible i'm thinking about ending it all. but that would be a sin. and i'm sure if i kill myself the first person i'm going to see is Charlton Heston--and that would suck. so best i hang on for a while longer...perhaps until Heston is well and truly dead (not just the walking dead) and his dead gun-toting hands are at rest, and his crazy-ass teeth have been stolen by some celebrity grave robber and now reside under a bell jar resting on someone's coffee table.

10 things i hate about commandments

y'all know about my love for all things charleton heston, ole wooden teeth, i like to call him. anyway, check out the vid from back in the day...it's a classic.

protestant work ethic is fucking up my life

i'm having a dilemma. i'm scheduled to take six months off from work at the end of June. sounds good, right? in the fall and winter i'm planning on going on a trip with C-man. and it's gonna cost. and i'm kinda tempted to stay at my job for another couple of months to keep making money so i have more money when i'm on my trip. it sounds reasonable right? but the thing i don't know is...is this just another form of procrastination, putting off taking time off or is this really the sensible thing to do? i don't know. i'm worried.

also, i gained five pounds while i was away last week. no excuses. i ate. and i spent 95% of my day in my pajamas or my robe, or a combination of pajama and robe. stop the insanity? where is susan powder? powter? what the hell was that ladies name?

a shout out to slutty catholic school girls, you know who you are

if you grew up in a small town, like me, then you know there was not a whole lot to distract the adolescent populace from drinking, smoking pot and getting laid. and if your small town had at least one catholic high school, like mine, you know all about the slutty catholic girls. okay, EVERYONE knows about slutty catholic girls--EV RY ONE! I'm also not saying that slutty = bad. i have many slutty friends, and among them, many slutty catholic girls. I, however, am still a virgin--(ahem). Anyway, i just want to thank slutty catholic school girls everywhere for making us public school chicks looks so damn good. i also want to acknowledge that slutty is really a transitory state for most women. we come and go from the slutty.

very unsuccessful entry
here's the thing...i haven't written in ages because i'm not feeling well. my tummy hurts. and i don't want to write about my tummy ache but really, it's taken up a lot of space both mentally and physically so that's why you are subjected to the lame entry above. i'm not sure what brought it on. the thoughts of slutty girls, not the tummy ache. maybe i was thinking about god or gods and the whole notion of a bigger energy or godhead, and then how organized religion fills that need but seems so limiting, and when i thought of limits and strictures i thought of catholicism, which immediately, and obviously led to the thought of slutty catholic school girls bucking their religious ethos to get laid. but it seems to me it wasn't about the pleasure of sex--i mean really, who has had sex with a 15 year old boy lately? (don't answer that) but more about the power of sex. and then i thought, so they were willing to have sex, even though the pope says no premarital sex but they would obey the "no condom" rule, and get knocked up. and obvioulsy, due to their inconsistent and erratic adherence to their own faith--have said child. i'm not down with that.

white light / white jeans

i bought a pair of white jeans today. such a good idea just a few short hours ago; crisp white denim, rolled up, with flip flops and tank top, hanging out by the lake at the cottage. dangling my feet in the water. maybe reading. maybe doing some cottage chore that does not result in the dirtying of my new jeans. i look like new bed linen...creaseless and tone from being pulled across the mattress. as i walk to the corner store people marvel at how well my jeans fit. sigh. hazy daze of summer indeed.

i don't have a lake at the cottage. i think the jeans might be misguided. there is a good chance that someone is going to try to project drive-in movies on to my ass. big, white and wide.

i bet kylie has white jeans. i bet they look good.

sigh.

CSI: Pig Roast

EXT. - NIGHT - DRIVEWAY
A cab pulls up in front a small bungalow on the east side of toronto, lights of the city centre dancing not far in the distance. A man (C-MAN), early 30's, steps out from the cab. He leans back in and escorts out a woman, mid-30's (CASPER).

C-MAN
What happened here?

CASPER looks down the abandoned drive way. Twinkle lights in the hedgerow. Focus on a giant stainless steel, industrial "pit". C-MAN and CASPER peer inside.

CASPER
It's empty.

CASPER and C-MAN walk up the driveway carefully, into the garage.

INT. - NIGHT - GARAGE

There is a giant silver tray, like you would find at the morgue. The tray is covered in bones. The spine and ribs are clearly identifiable. Casper begins to reconstruct the skeleton.

C-MAN
Put those down.

CASPER (holding a rib bone to her chest)
The bones are small. It could be a child.

C-MAN
You're retarded.

- SCENE -

We found all the party goers in the house--it was too late to party in the backyard without annoying the neighbours. Our charming hostess gave me a Manhattan the size of my head, which i drank. it was delicious.

When i regained consciousness C-Man had a microphone and was singing Whitesnake with X-Box Karoake.