kylie deadline fast approaches

i am but two days away from the kylie deadline and while you couldn't bounce a quarter off my ass--it's not so bad. today i got dressed and put on some old jeans and they fit. so it's not like i've expanded, spreaded like the proverbial cookie on a cookie sheet, as i previously feared. i suspect things are more or less exactly where i left them 6 months ago. well, i'm a little heavier in the thigh area...it's like some of my bum and hips slid down a few inches. the fabric of my clothes strains ever so in the thigh area. even now, the previously aforementioned blue jeans groan a little bit as a slouch at my desk.

but now that i'm about to be unemployed, i can spend more time on ass detail. i have to revise my plan. oprah says i have to work out 8 times a week and i'm just gonna say now...i don't fucking think so. even if i had NOTHING to do. but i will let you know when i have a new plan...you Whistler--what you think?

okay, gotta go to my shrinks:)

done and done

gave my notice today. my actual notice. and got myself a little freelance writing work to boot--so la ti da! yup, it's done. i quit. i feel elated and a little nauseous. i think my last day is next friday. i think i'm going to pee my pants. oh dear.

on a kylie note
i've totally blown my kylie plan. BUT my friend J in whistler is interested in Kylie Two: Electric Boogaloo. i will keep y'all posted when a plan is hatched.

i want, i want, i want

to look like nicole kidman
to buy a house
to have straight teeth
to own a magical pony for, you know, whatever joy a magical pony can provide

Brazil 1 - Ghana 0

solstice on a wednesday, seriously?

yes the summer solstice has arrived and i'm digging it. but why, oh why, does it have to fall on a wednesday...of all the days of the week we have to make wednesday extra long. cripes! yes, i understand calendars, yes i know it's not a moveable feast--but wednesday, seriously?

peace is coming
i wish this was a more global statement but sadly it only applies to me. i was out for my morning run (do you like how i say it like i do it everyday--don't be fooled i too stay in bed late for extra cat love or regular human love--did that come out right?). anyway...out for my morning run and i felt a lot of my chipmunk manic anxiety energy come down a few notches and i thought to myself..."self, you can work from now until the end of time. you can save more money so when you take your six months off you can hire little men dressed as egyptian slaves to carry you around the danforth on a barge-type-thing while you dress-up like Cleofuckingpatra, but baby it don't matter if you don't actually TAKE THE TIME OFF". it was calming. i am going to take time off. i am going to write. and nap--a lot. i am going to do new things.

the art of redirection

i'd like to start today's post with an excerpt from kid n' play and salt n' peppa's duet (quartet?), it goes: "yo ladies, all the ladies...louder now, help me out--let's talk about sex". Ohh i can see the C-man getting ready to blush, but relax baby this is not a blog about our ongoing forays into drunken, pro-wrestling style sexcapades - no baby, that's private.

the sex i'm talking about is everybody else's...if you're a single gal or a married gal thinking it's time to trade-up (i joke people, i joke) and want to know where all the rich dudes looking for hot trophy wives hang out and hook up check out the most recent entry on a little blog that i've come to love called puma thursdays--Now I'm not saying she's a gold digger, but she ain't messing with no broke...

redistribution of weight

So here is what is happening at work today:
World Cup: Togo vs. Switzerland, the score is currently 0/1 for Switzerland. I mean, i'm very busy and it is all very stressful and i don't know how i am going to manage. (oh, swiss just rejected at the net). Go Togo, it's your birthday. What do a bunch of peace-loving chocolatiers know about soccer? i hope Togo crushes their molten chocolate hearts, just like the centre of a Lindt chocolate.

I digress. Work, it's very stressfull.

I've been living in a hotel for the last two weeks and i feel huge. i have a rounded out little tummy. the scale supports my assertion of weight gain. and i can't even think about what's going on behind me. i'm afraid to look at my ass. here's the thing...my clothes still fit but there is more of me...so how the hell does that work? my litmus test for weight is a pair of cream dress pants that i bought at the height of skinny-dom...and they fit. but i'm not the same shape. it's like everything has just shuffled around--like recombined DNA...it's all there, just in the wrong order and that usually doesn't result in good things. it's like that scene at the beginning of Something Wicked This Way Comes...right before the circus train arrives in town.

my favourite jeans are on hiatus

you know when guys (some guys) wear really tight jeans and the jeans begin to form and fade around bits that stick out, you know the fabric gets all soft and linen-y and fades out in the same shape of the protrustion...like say a pack of cigarettes or a wallet in the back pocket, or um...say a scrotum.

anyhoodle...my favourite jeans (and by far the smallest size i own) have been moved to the back of my closet. why? because the front pockets show through the denim in the above mentioned fade pattern. how do the pockets show through? it would seem that the girth of my legs is pushing the poor pocket seams up against the denim with such great pressure that i am wearing the denim out from the inside out! i didn't even know it was possible. so there you go. i need to go buy some fat jeans.

speaking of funky denim...last night coming home on the subway i noticed a girl walking in front of me, petite figure, hideous jeans with weird appliques stuck to her ass and legs - but that is not what caught my attention. oh no. it was her weird walk. like she was trying to lift one leg higher than the other and swing it around. i thought, maybe she's just got a funky walk or a muscular disorder or something. but again no, i say, dear reader she had the back-camel-toe. her jeans were so tight and so far up her cracks (yes, that's cracks plural) that she was literally trying to heave her leg over the heavy denim seam that was cleaving her 'bean' in two. the back-camel-toe is rare and seldom seen.

and...another young woman of more robust proportions was wearing a pair of jeans that were so hideously tight that they pulled up so tight across her hips creating that unmistakeable 'v' (or the ancient symbol for the womb as dan brown would have it). But it gets better, the jeans are adorned with one of those built in wide waistbands that doubles as a snap belt. are you with me? so picture it, a wide waistband creating the horizontal line at the top, then starting at her crotch, two hard creases of denim running up on an angle to the waistband. she looked like she was wearing a denim cod piece. word up Cameo.