Anyway.
It has been a long damn time since I updated, hasn't it? Well, I've been busy, bitches, so back off, okay? Well, I haven't been THAT busy.
But I have done the following:
Had a minor fender bender in which I was totally and completely at fault and you can bet your ass that I now shoulder check all the damn time.
Gotten stuck in the snow. The snow, my GOD the snow. Where are all these chinooks that Alberta always seems to be having? Cause I haven't seen them yet.
Gotten drunk off my ass. Mmm...drunken asses. I mean, mmm...alcohol.
Dressed as "the Birds" for Halloween. I answered the door for these trick or treaters and this one kid looked at my friends and said "You're Fred and Wilma Flintstone" and then he looked at me and said "You're the lady from the Birds!" I was like "Dude! How old are you?" And he said he was 10 and I said "Here, have some more candy!" Cause all night people were asking me what I was. And if a 10-year-old can get it, but so called literate adults can't? Well damn. If that doesn't deserve a handful of Rockets and several tiny boxes of Smarties, I don't know what does. There were a lot of good costumes at the party I attended, by the way. Really well done. Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, David Lee Roth, A skier with a pole through his chest (our photographer) Ash from the Evil Dead movies (our other photographer) Bob and Doug MacKenzie (and they had a case of Molson stubbies! Can you believe that? I didn't even know they sold those anymore!) and this one guy whose costume I could not figure out. His girlfriend was a gypsy and he just sat in the corner all night with this fake pit-bull on a leash. I was always on the verge of asking him what he was supposed to be, only to be stopped by somebody else and asked what I was supposed to be. So finally, somebody tripped over this stuffed dog he had and he snarls "Don'tcha besteppinahnmedahg,eh woman?" And I got it. Brad Pitt's character from Snatch. Good costume!
Eaten waaaaaay too many tiny Caramilk bars that really, really don't count because they're only one square after all, so again, let me reiterate that they don't count. Even if I did eat like, a whole bag of them. Don't count. Nope. No sir.
Carved two intricate jack-o-lanterns which were a roaring success at the awesome Halloween party I attended. (One said 'welcome' in creepy letters and one depicted the bride of Frankenstein.)
Dyed my hair blonde. Not a little blonde. Not "Oh, you're still really a brunette" blonde. But Blonde. I said I did it for Halloween (cause Tippi Hedren was Blonde, yo) but really, I just felt like a change. And now, I feel like a change back, so if you would, kindly hit the rewind button on my life and just, you know, go back to the second before I did this foolhardy thing and scream really loudly "NO! DON'T DO IT! STEP AWAY FROM THE CLAIROL!"
Sigh.
I mentioned the snow earlier. Well, we got a dump-load all in one night. I got home at about 2 am and there was nothing. And my apartment was soooo unbelievably stinking hot that upon entering it, I called out "Satan, I'm hoooome!" The landlord still hasn't fixed my radiators and really, why should she? I mean, why ruin a perfectly good streak of not fixing things like the kitchen sink, which was previously annoying in that it only ran cold water and is currently annoying in that it doesn't actually exist but for a giant freaking hole in my counter-top and a pipe with a piece of paper-towel coming out of it. But I digress. The heat that night was unbearable.
In mid-October in Alberta, one should not have to strip down to one's skivvies upon entering one's domicile and take a cold shower and then open all the windows in the apartment before collapsing, naked and sweaty, on the bed, only to awaken at 5 a.m. to find a snow-drift in one's bedroom. It just shouldn't happen, get me?
And if that were the least of my domestic problems, that would be fine and dandy. But the sink situation is starting to get to me. I note, with some rancor, that as of today at 2:30 p.m. when I left for work, I still had no kitchen sink. And as such, preparing a meal that is more than, oh, say, toast, is slightly difficult. And by slightly, I mean really fucking a lot, bitch. And by difficult I mean impossible. I am tired of washing dishes in the bathroom. Besides being completely unhygenic, my bathroom is tiny. Miniscule even. The huge bathtub takes up most of the space. So I have a very small sink. In which frying pans, pots, and large plates do not fit. And filling the Brita is a trying task in its own right, but filling a Brita glass by glass if really, really, annoying. Unbelievable so.
When I got home on Friday, I found a note had been shoved under my door from my Landlord, whom I'm sure I would find quite pleasant if I didn't actively wish her dead every time I had to bend my spine into a question mark whenever I want wash a cup or have tea.
So the note is actually a card and a letter and the letter says that she's very sorry and she knows this is a huge inconvenience and all, but she's having a problem with her wholesaler getting the sink and bleeh-blah it's on order from Toronto and it's my narrow counter which is the big problem because they need a specialty sink to fit it and boo-hoo, and � woah!
MY counter? MY counter? I just live here, lady! I had nothing to do with deciding the width of said counter! Were it up to me, the kitchen would be 5 feet wider, you know? Plenty of room for a normal counter in MY version of this apartment.
So she's included three passes to the movies and $30 worth of gift certificates to this little cappucino/sushi bar that I frequent.
And this is nice and all, but what the hell? Am I supposed to bring some Palmolive and scrub during the previews to Pirates of the Caribbean? Arrrr....I think not. Matey.
It better be fixed by Monday. Cause there's no way I'm going for another week like this.
No. Way. Get me?
Tunes: Al Green, Call Me.
Tube: Sliding Doors. The movie. How come I can never meet a handsome scotsman on the subway during an alternate reality to my life? Huh? Oh, and how come my hair doesn't look like Gwyneth's in this movie? She's had lots of hair mistakes, but this was a hair DO.
Text: Graham Green's short stories.
