Tag Archives: Britt Small

December 2005

Confessions – Thursday, December 1, 2005 – early a.m.
Q ordered Chinese food from the Forum for our dinner last night, and when the delivery guy arrived at Q’s house Celeste was causing a ruckus, so I put her in the washroom and closed the door.

Two hours later, I wondered where Celeste was. Poor girl. She wasn’t too upset with me, except that Q called me later that night to double-check that yes, I had fed her, because she was “acting weird.”
Also, I get songs in my head ALL THE TIME (as you will inevitably have noticed, since I seem to hum them without being aware of it), and they are ridiculous songs. This morning I had “I Swear” in my head — some ’90s boy-band ballad. Terrible. Where do they come from? I’m like a uncool iPod. The other day I asked Liv why she was singing “Kidnapping Sandy-Claws” from Nightmare Before Christmas and she said it’s because I’d been humming it for an hour. Now that’s a good song.

However, I (for some inexplicable reason) know more of the lyrics to “I Swear” than “Kidnapping Sandy-Claws.”

In Other Momentous News
I started to feel a little guilty that all I’ve been doing this week is working, napping, eating cheese & bread, sleeping, and watching TV. Then I remembered that I’m “surfing the crimson tide.” I deserve to be lethargic and chubby: I’m fueling my body for a fairly traumatic (albeit routine) event. And next week is my last week of work before:
– 5 days of non-work in Victoria, and then
– 2.5 weeks of holidays in Invermere for Christmas, and then
– 2 days of New Years debauchery in Victoria.
Over my vacation I’ll have time to get back into eating vegetables and (thinking about) running around the block and working on a script or three.

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Another Confession: Pride – Thrusday, Dec. 1/05
I’m goddamn proud of my writing. Maybe not the self-indulgent, sloppy schlep I put on here, but the polished stuff that I make is really good. I’m sure of it. Dammit.

Regardless, UBC has decided that I’m not ready for their grad studies program. Please see below:

A Well-Written Rejection
UBC Creative Writing
Optional-Residency MFA Program
December 1, 2005

Dear Heather:
We regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a position in our 2006 Optional-Residency (Distance Education) MFA program. We are only able to accommodate a small percentage of the nearly 150 applicants we received this year. The quality of the applications was extremely high and faculty had to make some difficult decisions.
Your application was read and evaluated with great care by our faculty members. That being said, we do not pretend to be the final arbiter of what is excellent or successful writing. Evaluating writing is always a subjective process, and many a writer who was turned down by a publisher, institution or writing program has gone on to great success.
Our judgement does not close the door to another application at a later date, and indeed a number of students have been accepted on subsequent application in the past, including several this year. Every writer grows by revising old work and writing new material. Should you wish to try again in a later year, we would welcome your application; to make this easier we will keep your application materials on file for one year.
An official letter will be sent this week by postal mail to your mailing address on file.

Let’s Spin the Rejection into A Good Thing
1. FATE. Clearly I am not meant to do my MFA at this time. Financially, this makes sense, since I’m SUPPOSED to be paying off my BA, not handing my paychecks over to UBC. Maybe that $3,000 I would have spent on tuition SHOULD go to traveling: Greece or Scotland or wherever. (Not that I have that money — I just don’t think that income should affect my fun.)

2. WRITERLY MOTIVATION. Now I have to make a new portfolio. Which is probably a good thing, since most of my fiction is from my UVic days. And I want to write more plays . . .

3. Erm. I’m sure there are more “silver linings” here. I’m not as sad as I thought I’d be . . . that AmEx rejection was excellent practice.
Words of encouragement and sympathy are appreciated . . .

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The Big Questions – Friday, Dec.2/05
I’m trying to figure out what I want to drink at Q’s wee gathering tonight. I know I want to wear THE MOST AMAZING SKIRT I HAVE EVER OWNED, purchased yesterday despite my firm decision to NOT buy anything until after Christmas: it’s soft denim and past my knees, with a crazy black fringe (what is that material? It’s like stiff, plasticy lace . .. chiffon??) sticking out the bottom. It’s comfortable and sexy and different.

But to drink? I dunno. I have to figure this out before I leave downtown so I can grab whatever I need.

Last night I had the best hot alcoholic drink in the world. Irish Times calls it a “Scottish Heather” (hee hee): it’s hot chocolate with Bailey’s. YUMMY. And a lot healthier for me than the glasses of Baileys-on-ice I was chugging a year ago.

Also: Power Brunch Tomorrow
I’m having brunchy brunch with Britt Small & Briana Rayner tomorrow morning. We’re going to scheme. I like scheming. I will report back.

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Listening to Underground Atomic Vaudeville – Saturday, Dec.3/05 – 5:17 pm
I have a cd with at least 2 NEVER PERFORMED pieces. The first was a “shout out” to AV’s sponsors (aka “Zac’s a Dink”); this one’s a rant by Jason Vorhees (of Jason vs. Freddy) about selling out. Oh gees. Someday I’ll sell this shit on eBay and buy my tea shop and retire in glory.

Anyhoo, our PowerBrunch was yummy. I mean productive. Atomic Vaudeville needs Atomic Sponsorship, and I’m going to do my little bit to recruit some big fish. Also, the AV monkeys intend to do a staged reading of one of my scripts. I want to finish Bitter Scripts.

Then I went to Sleep Country (why buy a mattress anywhere else?) and bought a mattress. It’s from Mom and Dad, actually — the IKEA one was backordered and we were concerned it’d finally arrive once I was back in Invermere, so Mom cancelled the order and I went and got me a special deluxe superb mattress o’ comfort. It’s being delivered tomorrow. I’m spoiled.

And Now
Once I’m done listening to this fucked up CD I’m going to have a nap. Jessie & I are going on a pub crawl tonight with some of her old-school friends.

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Two Nights Out = Ready For Sunday – Dec.4/05, 2 am
Sunday (today??!) I will:
– await the delivery of my new uber-deluxe mattress
– watch the CSI episode I taped on Thursday
– eat more of the fresh rye bread I bought from the bakery
– clean the bunnies’ litter boxes
– do my dishes
– go for brunch with Q, if it doesn’t interfere with the mattress delivery.

Jessie and I went out with Karen & some of Jessie’s other highschool friends tonight. It was extremely different from my usual nights out (at Prism or Q’s, with the boyz). We ended up at Upstairs, which had the BEST DANCE MUSIC EVER tonight. Also, there was a 6-foot-something-tall blond guy waiting in line behind us, and I was brave and talked to him, and he stayed within 10 feet all night even though I never had a proper conversation with the guy. A satisfying night at the bar doesn’t have to involve actual conversation — I just like knowing there’s a hottie watching me dance.

There was something philosophical I wanted to write about tonight, but I can’t remember — all I can think about is the ringing in my ears, the fried eggs I just ate, and the book of Sudoku puzzles waiting me in my bed . . . the bed that I will have to sleep on FOR THE LAST TIME EVER (knock on wood).

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Revelation – Sunday, Dec.4/05 – 9:36 am
I was lying on my back in bed, thinking:

HEATHER: Wow, my back sure hurts. I should get out of bed so that it will stop.

And that’s when I realised that my mattress really truly does suck.

And For the Record
I’ve said this aloud to various folk but I want to put it in writing so that when it eventually becomes the mantra of the media I will have a record of being the first to say it:

Paul Martin’s speechwriter is keeping a blog: it’s merely a PR gimmick in the stylings of Microsoft, Coke and other corporations to improve/develop the subject’s (aka Paul Martin’s) image – in this case, leading up to the January 23rd election.

I say this without any political affiliation or motive — I don’t even know who I’ll vote for in January, except that I’m pro gay marriage and Stephen Harper clearly is not.

For fun, I’m considering keeping a tally of all the sneaky pro-PM messaging (that’s public-relations-speak for “sound bites that express a simple, key, positive idea”). He surrounds each message in humour, like a little propaganda pill with a chocolate coating. Very clever, very sneaky.

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An Idiot is On TV – Monday, Dec.5/05 – 9:11 pm
The clock on my sexy iBook is fast, so it’s not really 9:11pm, because if it was I’d be watching Medium and eating something for dinner. As it is, some unfunny gomer is on the Comedy Network. Apparently domestic violence is HILARIOUS, as long as he’s the victim.

I miss Levi. I might have to brace myself and watch a Popcultured rerun. Ugh.

Web Drama is So Dorky
A Mystery Visitor reads my site and posts comments (which I appreciate, by the way — it takes labia to piss me off). I don’t know much about you lovely people who read my site, but the handy stat counter thingy I have shows where you’re visiting from. Therefore, I know my Mystery Visitor is from Toronto (or at least the ip address is): I’m going to pretend that Levi MacDougall regularly reads my site and is secretly in love with me. Feel free to play along.

Another intriguing web-visitor-tracking bit o’ info: during the Zac Drama, German visitors suddenly accounted for a good third of my daily readers. I guess “Psycho German Girlfriend” is a popular google search term over there.

As For Food
I think I “intuitively ate” for most of my life. It’s only this past year that I’ve become chubby/unhealthy, and that’s probably because I have regularly scheduled mealtimes due to work. (This is thin logic, but I embrace any “diet” that okays eating poutine.)

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I Think About Sleep Too Much – Tuesday, Dec.6/05
Right around this time everyday I consider all the productive things I can do during my afternoon: clean my house, exercise, tend to the rabbits, sit somewhere and write the Next Great Canadian Play, sit somewhere and look pretty and happen to encounter the next love o’ my life, grocery shop . . .

What I will most likely do is go home, have a hot shower, and go to bed for a few hours. Very UNproductive. Once I fought my instincts and sat around in Starbucks and drank a cup of Awake tea and tried to read a book. But I couldn’t stay awake and barely made it to the bus before I was asleep. Hopefully this chronic lethargy will end after I’ve had a good few weeks of non-work. Boredom inspires me . . .

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In Awe of Quality TV – Tuesday, Dec.6/05 – 8:55 pm
I love it when Rick Mercer makes those mock Canadian Tire commercials. They are so very funny. Then an election ad ran for Stephen Harper and I thought it was another spoof. It wasn’t. That poor man has such terrible lips.

Isn’t it amazing how companies can keep inventing new variations on the toothbrush?? They angled the brush, angled the handle, put grips on the handle, changed the softness and size of the brush, made the bristles of different lengths, added blue stripes that disappeared with use, and NOW I just saw an ad for one with the brush part split into two, so that each half moves separately. Sometimes, especially after drinking too much Red Rose in the morning, I crave a good hard stick to scrape away at my smile . . .

Also, I Didn’t Nap Today
Mainly because I had to go last-minute shopping for a gift for tomorrow’s office party/lunch. I also ended up in GAP’s baby section . . . I despise The GAP but they had a wooly toque with bear-ears for sale. I’m weak when it comes to dressing up Hollis. My family has new rules for Christmas this year. Normally we go wacko and spoil each other, but this year, because we’re all grown up and don’t need any more crap, we’re restricted to ONE GIFT for each person, $20-$50 (closer to $20). It’s surprisingly difficult to choose that one gift. I’m used to “brainstorm shopping,” and inevitably one of the gifts is a gooder. Oh, but we don’t have any limits on spoiling Hollis. That’s what holidays are about, after all. Although he’s only 9 weeks or so now, so he probably won’t notice how cool the bear hat is. (It’s very very cool.)

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Happy Bunnies – Wednesday, Dec.7/05 – 9:57 pm
I cleaned their litterboxes, delivered fresh chew-sticks and filled their food dishes. I have three very pleased rabbits.

Kim, my neighbour and the bunnies’ Fairy Godmother, described Seamus’s nails as “chopsticks” the other day . . . I really need to cut his nails. But Peter’s are nice and short, so I feel 1/3 less guilty than I would normally.

About Becoming Chubby
I think another contributing factor is that I start work at 6/7am, and I take lunch with Jessie, Q and Liv at 12, so by then I’m STARVING and I eat way too much food. I have cereal at work, and sometimes I make PB toast, but I need to be a little more diligent at feeding myself before 12pm each day.

A much better plan than daily exercise . . .

 

Movies I’ve Seen Recently
Happy Endings: it was pretty good. I feel in love with Otis. Of course, he ended up being gay. Dammit.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Ron’s voice has changed. Very sexy. Hermoine is a TERRIBLE actor. It’s become necessary to see each new HP movie . . . otherwise I’d forgo until Hermoine learns not to ham it up. Special effects are the grooviest.

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Christmas Partied Out – Thursday, Dec.8/05 – 7:46 pm
We had our office Xmas lunch yesterday, and then our big staff party tonight. If I was going to be in town for the rest of the month, there’d be at least two more for work. Sheesh. I think it’s because we gov’t whores work our asses off while the house is in session, so whenever we have an excuse to eat catered cheese plates and drink draft beer we’re all in the mood. (And I’m not being sarcastic about that — we really do work extremely hard. So there.)

Anyhoo, I saw lots of familiar PABbers tonight, including my yogi Rueben and most of my rowing team from the spring. Also, I met a very smiley guy named Scott with whom I’ve liaisoned via emails for the past year and a half. It’s so strange to meet someone and know their last name immediately, as well as their role in the gov’t, without even knowing what they look like. I’ve flattered Scott, I’ve pleaded with him, and now I know he looks like a really pleasant relative — uncle, maybe, or just a good friend of my parents’.

On the way home I stopped in at the 7-11 to buy bus tickets and I REALLY REALLY recognized this one (creepy) guy inside. Then I realized: he looks EXACTLY like the Oompaloompah(s) from Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I would bet money that he’s either that exact actor, or closely related to him. Victoria is so weird.

Porn-Star Moment
This morning I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror just before I had my shower, and what with the light in the bedroom and being kinda sweaty (ew) from too much sleep, my chest (ie the top of my boobs and neck, etc.) was all glowy. Like a movie. It was very sexy, in a sweaty sort of way.

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When Solid Powders Break Apart – Friday, Dec.9/05
The only thing worse than spending $20-$30 on powder blush is finding it all busted up in your purse. Stupid overpriced Mac cosmetics. Stupid floppy purse. Now my pink-cheek-to-face ratio is all distorted.

Also, today’s my last day of work before THREE WEEKS of holidays!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Peter Loves Me – Saturday, Dec.10/05 – 9:46 am
He’s been following me around ALL MORNING. He even did binkies (aka little jumps of joy) when I descended from my loft bed.

I also went outside to clip Seamus’s talons, and that went alright. Then I grabbed Caramel. She’s one huge puffball with a tiny bit of meat inside all that hair. (Why does anyone bother to eat rabbit????? And that’s rhetorical, please don’t tell me.) I got a little distracted from her nails when I realized that her massive coat is catching all the piss and shit her body tries to expel. EWWWW. So I tried to wash her up a bit, which is kind of like cleaning a very furry baby’s ass. She hated it. But now I’ve collected my equipment: scissors and a flea comb (it has very fine tines so hopefully it’ll help untangle her ass-hair). I’m saving that adventure for after I have a pot of tea.

Meanwhile, Peter’s cuddling with my feet under the computer desk . . .

I am Not A Workaholic
It’s just that my job is rather demanding and intense. But this morning, lying ON MY UBER-AMAZING MATTRESS, I thought about the astonishing fact that I don’t work for another THREE WEEKS. And my brain was still busily formatting documents and spell-checking. This weekend will be my . . . what’s the word? Like getting the drugs out of your system . . . and then I’ll be (hopefully) a normal person by the time I fly home.

Also, something sad but also happy . . . my gal friend Carey from UVic writing was accepted into the UBC program. She clearly felt awkward that I wasn’t. And while it made me a little sadder to know that this wasn’t a massive conspiracy against us Islanders, I really am pleased for her. And selfishly: she can now promote me to the UBC circle, which will help me in my next application. Carey’s a SuperStar. I’d tell you to watch for her upcoming novel, if I knew her last name.

And As For the Love Drama
A variety of people I know are trying to hook me up with some quality tall guys. Barb from work has a “prairie geek” she used to work with; Q has an old UVic friend he ran into on the bus; and Glen wants to set me up with a body piercer named Graham who, oddly enough, was the one who pierced my belly button years ago. I won’t have time to fall in love with anyone before January, though, so you’ll have to wait another month for the gritty details.

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Peter’s Watching Me – Sunday, Dec.11/05 – 6:15 am
I can’t sleep. The crappy music from Upstairs keeps shaking my brain.

Jessie’s 24th Birthday Fiesta
Jessie’s real birthday is on the 18th, but I won’t be here and for that and other reasons (=??) we had an early celebration for her last night. We had a WONDERFUL dinner at the Tapa Bar — it’s like Italian dim sum: we each ordered a plate or two of something and then shared it. Excellent food and I was actually full by the end. I’m AMAZING so I’d ordered an uber-chocolatey ice cream cake with raspberries from the Marble Slab Creamery, and we had that for dessert. Jessie was smilier than I’d seen her in a very long time — chocolate and ice cream and the attention of beautiful men seem to make that happen.

Tangent re: Mini-Purse
When we go out dancing I almost never have pockets in my clothes (stupid clothes-designers) and I hate having a bulky purse to watch over. So I went out yesterday evening determined to find the smallest (but stil useful) purse in Victoria. The winning choice doesn’t accomodate cards, but I can carry those (driver’s license, credit cards) in my bulky purse, and then check that at the door once we’re inside.

Anyhoo, I showed off my purchase last night and they mocked me relentlessly.

QUINN: It’s not even a clutch. It’s a pinch.

But I’m very pleased to have it, and Liv even asked if she could keep her cash in it last night. Ha!

After Dinner
Q and Brant went to a Tacky Sweater party, and Spencer went home to sleep, and Dave (Channelle’s boyfriend) left to study. Jessie, Liv, Channelle, Raffaele and I went to Upstairs to dance.

Raffaele (my banker) is recently divorced (at age 26!). He was like a kid in a candy store / a newly-single young hottie at a club. I’ve offered to help him learn how to appreciate cleavage without gawking. I think he’s becoming comfortable with me . . . it’s flattering to have a beautiful (straight, single) man to flirt with.

In other gossip, I learned last night that Channelle slept with Divyesh (my Snuggle Partner, August – December 2004). Which is logical, since I set them up. But EWWWWW what a disgusting idea!!!! I have a hard time being comfortable with the idea of other people having sex. Good thing the world doesn’t require me to be comfortable with it.

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Erm – Sunday, Dec.11/05 – 9:24 pm
I went back to bed at 10am this morning, and slept until Q woke me up for dim sum at 12:30pm. We ate with Billy, Brant, and Luke . . . it was the first time Brant & Luke had met, and I think they’re in love. Or lust. Or like. Whatever, it was cute to watch their encounter. There are so many beautiful people in my life . . .

We wandered around to some of the nearby stores. Q has decided to be a gardener. He bought those bulbs that grow in gravel, and he’s lusting after a bonsai tree. We also priced out propane heaters for his little porch area: it would cost about $200 for him and Celeste to loll comfortably in Victoria winter.

And then Q dropped the boys off at their respective homes, and we took Celeste for a walk along Dallas Road, and she flirted with a Rottweiler (as usual). Q made me Dean’s Famous Salad for dinner, and I dozed through The West Wing (which just becomes more politically-esoteric with each episode) and now I’m home. I’m not used to having only 6 hours of sleep.

Theories As To Why I Awoke @ 4:30 am
1. I’ve been catching up on three years’ worth of shitty sleep on a shitty mattress, and last night at 4:30am I finally broke even.

2. Someone, somewhere, did something significant.

3. Even though I know better (having survived Raffaele’s inadvertant flirtatiousness earlier this year), all the talk of someone being in love/lust with me unsettled me beyond sleepiness.

4. I was MEANT to watch those three concurrent pre-dawn mini-movies of Hercule Poirot on channel 31.

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BC Health Care is Great – Monday, Dec.12/05 – 6:23 pm
I picked up three months’ worth of my prescriptions today. Three packs of demulen (birth control) + 3600 mg of Happy Pills = $210 and a pile of drugs. HOWEVER, thanks to PharmaCare + my extended health coverage via work, it only cost me $5. That’s less than a Taco Time combo. Jeepers.

Adventures in Downtown Victoria
I showered, dressed, and walked downtown intending to find a sexy cafe and write The Best Play Ever. Then I got distracted by the walk-in clinic and my need for more drugs, so I did the prescription thing, picked up some groceries from the Market on Yates, and caught a bus back home. For some reason my hands were all shaky when I was paying for my grocieries, and that spooked me . . . I decided to go with pjs and homemade Swiss and cucumber sandwiches instead of tea and Starbucks holiday muzak.

Maybe I will venture out again tomorrow . . . my flight leaves Wednesday for Calgary, so I have one more day to clean my home and prepare the bunnies for my absence.

Hollis Sent Me a Christmas Card
There’s a picture of him propped up in a chair . . . I admit, I’m excited about being able to stare at him in real life again. He doesn’t do much besides eat, sleep and poop, but he’s so new and fascinating for my whole family. I wonder what it will be like when Evy has another . . . She’ll have to (pretend to) be as awestruck with the next one, or else she’ll be contributing to the Middle Child “I’m boring because I’m 2nd” Psychosis which has afflicted our family for generations.

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Merry Elexmas! – Tuesday, Dec.13/05 – 9:24 pm
I keep forgetting about the January election. And then an ad for one of the parties appears mid-commercials, and I have no idea what’s happening — I thought a Conservative ad was a Rick Mercer spoof, and yesterday the Liberal one sounded EERILY similar to a cell phone commercial. Then I realize, Oh, Right, There’s An Election January 23rd, and then I become annoyed with the transparent messaging in the ads.

CONSERVATIVE: No, really, we like women and women like us too. Honest. And don’t forget — the Liberals are Greedy Embezzling Fat Cats.

LIBERAL: If yer Canadian, yer a Liberal. Conservatives = Scary Nazis Who Will Take Us Back To the 1940s (aka no basic human rights for minorities, women, ‘mos . . .).

I hate transparent PR. This will affect how I vote — I’m sure of it. And about voting: I have no idea who I’ll vote for.

I dislike the Liberal’s fearmongering re: The Evil Conservatives, but it’s a stated fact that Stephen Harper will call for a free vote on same-sex marriage if he’s the PM. He’s letting his personal bigotries overrule his political common sense, and I don’t like that at all.

Meanwhile, the Liberals are cocky. It’d be so much fun to destroy them, just for one little term. (How ironic: they say True Canadians will vote Liberal, yet True Canadians despise American-style cockiness and want to punish it, in an admittedly childish and short-sighted way.)

And the NDP. Erm. Sure. (Ha!)

So what do I do?

DAD: Vote Conservative.

QUINN: Vote Liberal.

HEATHER: Hey Q, let’s start our own political party and smash these two shitty ones!!!!

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Good Intentions – Tuesday, Dec.13/05 – 4:44 pm
Caramel’s ass-hair is still all poopy, so I went out with scissors, my fine-tooth comb, etc. and tried really really hard to get the tangled poop/hair knots out of her coat. She bit me for the first time ever: I have a cute little bruise on my right forearm. And then I tried giving her a mini-bath in my washroom sink, which she hated, and still that didn’t work. Except that poopy water got everywhere because she kept kicking and trying to escape. So I towelled her off as best I could, and abandoned her with Seamus on their porch with an old flannel sheet to (hopefully) keep her warm tonight, despite her wet hair.

And now I smell like vegan diarrhoea.

Shopping
I went downtown for sushi with my worker bees & my final day of city Christmas shopping. While dressing this morning, I stuck my foot through the hole in the knee of my jeans, and so I set out to buy a new pair in preparation for my holidays.

These new ones are quite comfy, although they are RIDICULOUSLY low in the back, and in the front. They are not those jeans that little girls wear (the ones that damage your internal organs), but they are much lower than what existed last time I went jean shopping. I’m wearing them now; Peter is chewing on the cuffs to make them more fashionable.

Also, I bought some great stuff but I can’t discuss it because it’s all for Christmas and my family reads this site.

To Do List
The bunnies’ babysitters are scheduled (Q, Jessie & Liv are sharing 8 days of feeding & watering). Also, I cleaned their litterboxes just now. So all I have to do is get my extra keys to my bunny sitters and make the feeding equipment user-friendly. (Peter only eats the Martin-brand pellets; Seamus & Caramel prefer the Hagen brand.)

I have to pack.

I have to clean my dishes so they don’t rot while I’m away.

And Q and I are going to Billy’s for dinner tonight, so I should shower off this bunny-shit stink. (I would do this even if I wasn’t going out for dinner.)

Tomorrow I leave Victoria at 11:15 am, arrive in Calgary at 1:30 pm, and then I’ll be home in Invermere that night. Assuming, of course, that nothing goes terribly wrong.

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CMT in the Background – Thursday, Dec.15/05 – 9:09 am Mtn time
Hollis is running a marathon on his back on the kitchen table, Mom and Evy are discussing our plans for the week and whether Hollis feels like DeCaf or regular tea today. And I’m alive (with poofy, post-sleep hair) in Invermere, B.C.

I intend to be diligent about writing here despite the baby & family distractions for the rest of December . . . just please brace yourself for a lot of baby oggling and holiday cliche.

Today’s plans include:
– walking downtown with Evy & Hollis
– eating quality baked goods from the Quality Bakery (it’s German and makes the most amazing sausage rolls ever)
– calling Q to ask him to mail me my glasses. I knew I’d forget something important in yesterday’s one-hour rush to get to the airport shuttle . . .
– teaching Hollis to clearly and succintly pronouce “Heather”
– are “clearly” and “succinctly” synonyms???
– wrapping some presents, because I love wrapping presents.

On the Plane Yesterday
I sat beside an awful man. One of those pointy arm passengers who think the arm rest really is an arm rest, not a divider. AND he ate the stinkiest homemade sandwich EVER while sitting right beside me. Ugh. But I didn’t hit him or even say anything rude/instructive, so I’m proud of my self-restraint.

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It’s Snowing – Friday, Dec.16/05 – 10:11 am Mtn time
I woke up just in time to say goodbye to Hollis, Evy & Mom. Hollis held my hands very tightly — I don’t think he wanted to leave JUST AS his wonderful Aunty Heather arose from the basement suite. I made him laugh yesterday — it sounded like choking but Evy assured me that was laughter.

In Non-Baby News
The kitchen smells like bacon. I really really want to make some for breakfast, but it’s a piggy that we partly owned and that our family friend Jack slaughtered, butchered, and smoked, and I have “issues” with eating animals that I KNOW FOR A FACT were once alive. So I’m trying to make myself hungry enough to cook him — I mean, some bacon — by sitting here in the kitchen at the computer. I already made a pot of tea.

Last night I taught Evy to do Sudoku puzzles!!!! They are addictive, and highly appropriate for a new Momma since they are portable and can be done whenever she has a still moment. Since Hollis can’t sit/crawl/walk yet, she has lots of free time to master Sudoku. Also, Jared (her man) went out last night and had too much to drink so they had to sleep here. Mom and Dad try to feed Jared booze whenever they can, to get more nights with Hollis. (Evy can’t see well at night, and to get home they have to navigate a scary highway with LOTS of wild animals that suddenly become suicidal and leap in front of vehicles traveling 120 km/hour.) I had a nap with Hollis last night, before I accepted my exhaustion and went to bed. I was a little concerned about killing him (by rolling over once asleep, etc.) but we did fine. Oh, sorry, that’s more baby talk . . .

I saw Deanna at her art gallery yesterday. I’ve known Deanna since we were five — our parents were friends and we were friends, and now she’s one of the few people I think of visiting with when I’m back in Invermere. We’re having dinner together on the 21st, if I can manage to keep my days straight. I thought today was Thursday . . .

As for Victoria, I’m intrigued by the limerick someone posted yesterday! Jessie? Liv? Q? What’s going on over there????? Did Jessie do something naughty???????

Also, Barry (the UVic pal that Q has determined I will fall in love with) finally got around to writing me an email on Wednesday. Did I already mention that??? I wrote back yesterday and said I was away for Christmas. Nothing new has transpired since.

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Women Shop, It’s In Their Genes – Saturday, Dec.17/05 – 6:22 pm Mtn time
We ran into Chris, a fifty-something man with white hair who once sold timeshares and who is an unapologetically sexist. Dad and him competed to see who could be worse.

CHRIS: What are you doing driving these women around? You’re making it easier for them to spend your money.
DAD: They can’t drive and shop at the same time.

It amuses me.

Also, Deanna just called and we are going out to one of the two bars in town tonight: Bud’s! It’s very reminiscent of my 1999 summer . . . back then, we knew EVERYONE (Invermere’s population = 2,700). We kept our coats in the DJ booth with our underage friend Johno; we had our own table that was scuzzy with our own nightly scuzz. Bud’s went under thanks to an unreliable owner back at the New Year’s party in 2000, when they reneged on the New Year’s door prizes because of lower-than-expected attendance. Some Albertan bought it, renovated, and named Invermere’s only dance bar “Links” for some unknown reason. (We do have a lot of golf courses around here, but that’s no excuse.)

So now someone has reclaimed the space, hung up all the old signs (luckily I didn’t steal them back during the renovation, as I’d intended), and it opened last night with a live band.

I don’t know which band. It doesn’t really matter. It was a live band, and that’s a pretty big deal.

Anyhoo, tonight there’s a DJ and it’s Saturday night and all the kids I grew up with are somewhere in the Valley for Christmas holidays. It’ll be like a reunion. Or not. I shall report back tomorrow . . .

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~ ~ NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS ~ ~

Liv: to go on a Real Date during which she doesn’t over-drink and she keeps her clothes on.
NOTE: I asked her permission to post that one.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSIE!!!!!!!
I hope your day is Perfectly Perfect in every way.

I Ate the Pig for Breakfast – Sunday, Dec.18/05 – 10:12 am Mtn time
Dad made us bacon, poached eggs & toast for breakfast. Typical family meal. I love being fed.

At the Bar
Deanna and I had a great time! Invermere is unique in that we all know everyone’s last names, as well as entire history and current gossip. An average encounter last night went as follows:

HEATHER: Brendan Tutty!

BRENDAN: Heather Walker and Deanna Berrington!

We ran into one of my first boyfriends last night — I think I was 14 when we were smooching — and I did not recognize him at all.

DEANNA: This is Tyrel! . . . Tyrel Brown?

Deanna tried to pick up one guy, until she realised that he was the little brother of an old friend of ours (and therefore practically our cousin).

DEANNA: I even made my voice all husky.

Other familiar faces: Mike Campbell, Brandon Barrett, Danny MacKenzie, Niko Espinel (the DJ), Shane Bristow, Brendan Tutty, Misha Louie . . . and a lot of kids I remember from my sister & brother’s classes at school. One of whom tried to pick me up until I told him that I was 25.

MIKE: I don’t believe you. You look 21 or something.

HEATHER: You can ask anyone here. They all know how old I am.

Anyhoo, it was fun. The two most common reactions I got from people I hadn’t seen in six or seven years:

1. “I remember you being taller.” (Because they were younger & shorter.)

2. “Hey, you cut your hair!” (Six or seven years ago, actually.)

We stayed until closing and Deanna drove me home in the snow.

In Baby News
We get to see Hollis again today!!!! We’re decorating the Christmas tree this afternoon, which is an annual tradition . . . and our first time doing so with a baby in the family!!! Then there’s the Christmas food bank fundraiser at the Lakeside Inn & Pub, another (but more recent) tradition. We go and eat good pub food as a family and listen to local musicians on stage. It’s another sort of small town reunion . . . more families than at the bar (although I did see the mom of an highschool friend two-stepping at Bud’s last night . . . ).

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Vicariously Productive Monday – Dec.19/05 – 6:21 pm Mtn time
Tomorrow is our cookie party, so today’s plan included making sugar cookies (those ones we decorate with icing . . . remember, kids?), stained-glass window cookies (aka sugar cookies with the centres cut out and candy melted inside the frame), and peppermint meringues. Also, I tried to make our “craft” project for tomorrow and rated it a triple-diamond craft, and therefore undoable by older women who wear bifocals and essentially everyone else on earth except Martha Stewart. Anyhoo, Mom did almost all of the baking while Evy & I Sudokud (yes, I’ve verbed it) and I slept and Hollis sat/lolled around looking perfect. To be fair, Evy also smashed candy canes and the candy filling for the cookies . . she likes to smash things. But Mom was the real cookie SuperStar. I’m amazed how productive she is. I’m too sleepy to be that productive.

Tonight
We’re going to see an artsy movie (Water) at our Old-School movie theatre, The Toby. It starts at 7pm, but our pork chops (from The Pig) are still broiling, so we’ll probably have to eat after the movie.

And in other thrilling Invermere news, Liv & Q mailed me my glasses and they arrived today, so I no longer have to choose between wearing Dad’s weak, broken glasses or my contacts at inappropriate contact-wearing times. THANK YOU LIV AND Q. I’m ridiculously thrilled to be reunited with my glasses.

Oh, and Joey (my little brother — 22 years old) has pneumonia or something and can’t breathe properly, so he went to the hospital and is now on antibiotics. We suspect it’s the cats that shed & shit all over his apartment. Whatever the cause, the usual consensus is that Joey (and Evy with Hollis, and me) would certainly be better off living here with Mom and Dad. Joey gets sick fairly often . . . I think it’s to defuse his antagonistic relationship with Mom. It’s hard for them to fight when he’s gasping for air.

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Technology in the Rockies – Tuesday, Dec.20/05 – 4:48 pm Mtn time
It took awhile for highspeed cable internet to reach the Columbia Valley. Now Mom even has that cordless internet, so she can take her laptop anywhere in the house and google recipes while Dad meets strange and interesting fellow sailors in online chatrooms. However, the hard drive for the desktop makes a very loud sound when it’s online . . . like an old VCR, that humming and inconsistent whirring noise. I feel like I’m running the generator whenever I go to check my email.

Evy and I are preparing for the Cookie party tonight. Mom did all kinds of prep work yesterday, then slept in this morning so she didn’t have time to do everything else on the list. We’ve cleaned, washed veggies, rolled deli meats, found matching glasses . . . and all while admiring Hollis, who has been especially talkative today. We’re waiting for him to learn how to roll over. Waiting with fear, because then he’ll require extra monitoring for safety, but also with excitement. Apparently babies learn to roll over when they’re 3-4 months, and since Hollis is an eldest child and natural over-achiever we expect him to roll any day now (week 12).

Also, I have baby goober on my left shoulder. It’s the first time that’s happened that I haven’t rushed to clean it off. I guess I’m falling in love.

Almost Forgot: Movie Review
Water is pretty good. It requires lots of exposition, since it’s an entirely different culture than ours: India in 1938. So that felt rather heavy-handed at times, as well as the theme of “widows-as-pariahs is an evil and outdated cultural tradition.”

DAD CHARACTER: Daughter, do you remember getting married?

DAUGHTER (7 years old): No, Papa.

DAD: Your husband is dead. You are a widow now.

DAUGHTER: For how long, Papa?

Also it was kind of confusing re: who the exploitative old rich man was, who was using the widows as prostitutes. The hero’s dad? The hero’s friend’s dad? The hero’s friend? Regardless, it was great and I’d recommend Water. The theatre was full of grey-haired Albertan tourists . . . very strange crowd. I feel like Invermere has become a geriatric community.

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Lazy Wednesday – Dec.21/05 – 3:12 pm Mtn time
Evy woke me up at 10:30 by putting Hollis in bed with me, and then just as I was becoming conscious she took him upstairs, so I had to follow. Sneaky moms.

I’m doing laundry and drinking tea. I watched Matlock earlier, and did some Sudoku puzzles, and eventually I will get dressed and walk downtown to meet Deanna for dinner. Tomorrow Evy, Hollis, Mom and I are going to Cranbrook for last minute shopping, and I will have to wake up earlyish — 7/8am or so.

Does anyone else in the world watch Matlock? I always hope for Murder, She Wrote but I never seem to catch it on tv. Joey thinks Angela Lansbury is a serial killer, and that’s why murders follow her wherever she goes, and then she frames someone else. Joey’s a little paranoid. Also, he’s on antibiotics because his “bronchials” or whatever are infected. Joe’s always had troubles with his throat/breathing. He got his tonsils removed earlier this year (at age 21!), but apparently that hasn’t made him immune to respiratory illness.

The Cookie Party was fun. I made Baileys drinks for our guests, and even the less crafty guests enjoyed decorating cookies. I ate a lot of salami from the cheese plate and felt sort of ill afterward.

Oh, and in other health news, Mom & Dad use a different kind of Tide — not the natural stuff I have — and after washing my clothes last week, I’m ridiculously itchy all the time. I’m considering rinsing everything in plain water . . . I think it was Mom who made the connection between laundry detergent and itchiness, so I’m surprised she has the other kind of Tide.

As you can tell, my adventures are of a more . . . gentle? dull? sort lately. I feel like I’m really on a holiday, even though I check my work email daily (900 emails and counting). I sleep whenever I feel like it, eat & drink whatever I want . . . wait, this is my normal lifestyle . . . I don’t know what’s happening in the news! That’s different.

QUINN: Did you watch the federal election debate last night?

HEATHER: No . . . I didn’t even know it was on.

QUINN: Sheesh. Are you living in a vacuum? Don’t you people watch tv, listen to the radio, or read the newspaper?

HEATHER: We watch Coronation Street, listen to CMT, and read The Pioneer. Maybe there’ll be an article in next week’s issue . . .

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About To Travel a Dark Road – Thursday, Dec.22/05 – 8:16 am Mtn time
I thought we’d be gone by now — I’m even awake & dressed — but the highway’s icy so Mom’s delaying our drive to Cranbrook.

I walked downtown to meet Deanna at the Art Gallery where she works. (notice how I capitalize “Art Gallery” even though it doesn’t have a distinctive name? That’s because it’s The Art Gallery in Invermere.) It was freezing cold and my ears & thighs were numb after the first two blocks (goddamn jeans), but it was REALLY BEAUTIFUL. There’s snow everywhere, and the cars move in slow motion (due to the unpredictable ice on the roads) and everything is very very quiet. I can’t even take a proper picture of it for you, because the (lack of) sound was the coolest part. Also, I slipped once but I didn’t fall. I’ve relearned how to waddle like a penguin so as to keep my balance.

I heard somewhere that women won’t get cold in our extremities as long as our core (aka chest, stomach) is warm. To an extent, of course. I don’t know if that’s true or Dad-style bullshit. Do women and men have different circulatory systems?

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Hollis is “Fussy” Today – Friday, Dec.23/05 – 3:14 pm Mtn time
This affects EVERTHING. Sort of like when Q is “in a mood” . . .

I thought now might be a fine time to write out my theory re: death shows. (Someone else might have told me this, or helped me develop it . . . luckily, I have a terrible memory for sources of info so we’re going to pretend I’m the insightful social commentator.) Sooooo the new cool thing on tv is shows (reality or not) about death: Six Feet Under, Family Plots . . . and I think this is a natural result of the aging of the Baby Boomers, and their growing awareness of death, combined with perverse Gen X-ers being in their 30s and in positions in the media/entertainment sectors where they have creative control.

Meanwhile, we are mid- “Age of the Gross” as Eminem says, and at a point where the media/entertainment industries feel like they have to push our line of acceptability to the extreme . . . in other words, we need to be REALLY shocked to be surprised by anything we see on tv. Therefore: Family Guy, South Park, and the occassional episode of The Simpsons. Also, Puppets Who Kill and other shows I haven’t watched yet but have heard are apprehensible.

Why It’s Okay To State The Obvious
Everything in the world is a replication and not original. Some philosopher or theorist said that, so it has to be valid (haha). And therefore EVERYTHING I or anyone says is redundant. So I would either have to accept that it’s okay to state the obvious, or I would have to shut up. And so would you.

Also, it’s one thing to be told a piece of information (e.g. how a pulley works) but it’s an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT and EXTREMELY NEATO thing to discover that information for yourself. Admittedly, it’s a slower process . . . therefore, I tend to “discover” things that are already mainstream knowledge . . . like the iPod . . . and if I read articles on media culture then maybe my death show theory and et cetera would be old news to me. I suppose ignorance can be bliss, if it enables independent discovery.

In Real Life News
Cranbrook was productive. Today I am wearing my pjs and have messy messy hair. Tonight I am going out with Evy, Jared & co. to celebrate Jared’s birthday, which is tomorrow (December 24th). So eventually I will have to get dressed.

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And THEN . . . – Dec.23/05 – 6:04 pm
Hollis has been fed and is now sleeping. Then, just as things were calm . . .

WE’RE OUT OF SMOKED OYSTERS!!!!!!!!

Ohmigod.

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED!!!!

2nd Night @ Bud’s – Saturday, Dec.24/05 – 12:18 pm Mtn time
I heard somewhere that having a smoking section in a bar is like having a peeing section in a pool. Bud’s has a “Smoking Room” and this is what I need to tell those of you who smoke:

We non-smokers are not just being overly sensitive. You really do stink. It is a pervasive, extremely unpleasant smell.

The DJ guy last night was Phil Catlough. When he and Joey were eleven they had a band (aka Phil hit a snare drum while Joey screamed in our basement). The only line I remember:

“P.S. I’m a sex machine!”

Health News
It’s dry here and my lips cracked the first day. Despite regular applications of ozonol, cocoa butter and carrot moisturizer I still have a red ouchy dry spot in the corner of my mouth. I’ve even started drinking water alongside my pots of tea, with the hope of lubricating my lips from the inside-out.

Other survival tips for Invemere:
– don’t hit on ANYONE without first checking whether you know them.
– if you see a cougar BEFORE it pounces & kills you, make yourself look really big to scare it off.
– don’t say anything bad about anyone ever unless you are in your own home, alone. Otherwise, the person you’re complaining to will turn out to be their children or their third cousin or neighbour.
– don’t worry about keeping your drink close to you at the bar. Concerns such as rohipnol, date rape, etc. aren’t valid unless you’re out of town. (I was able to grab five beer bottles my first night at Bud’s . . . just as an experiment. And I REALLY wasn’t being subtle about it. Don’t worry — I returned the bottles, untouched, as soon as the owner came looking. Hopefully they learned a valuable lesson.)

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIV!!!!

& MERRY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL!

PJ Day – Sunday, Dec.25/05 – 1:44 pm Mtn time
Mom and Dad gave me new flannel nammies that are yellow with blue bits and white bunnies. Matching slipper socks, even. I’m PJ sexy.

I didn’t sleep very well last night — partly because I slept too much yesterday during the daytime, and also because we had a TurDucIn (chicken in a duck in a turkey) for Jared’s birthday dinner . . . apparently duck makes me farty.

I woke up at 8:30 when I heard someone unloading the dishwasher, and I thought it was Mom & Dad, so I was very confused to find Jared & Dad in the kitchen, while Mom and Evy were still asleep. The men-folk are usually the most relunctant Christmas morning. Joey came over from his place, and we opened stockings and WAY TOO MANY PRESENTS (as usual) until 10 or 11.

(Mom just gave me a cup of tea. It’s so nice to have someone make tea for me.)

My new YELLOW sheets are in the laundry with my new YELLOW towels . . . other exceptional and unusual Christmas loot includes a bottle of Butter Ripple Cream liquor from Hollis. (Oh yes, Liv. And I might even share it at New Year’s.)

Also, my nails are too long and I really need to cut them. There are three screwdrivers within reach at this very moment, but I doubt there is a single nailclipper thingy to be found in this house . . . Joey likes to hoard them. I think he buries them in the yard.

Hollis got all kinds of great stuff, including a lamb puppet from Gramma Walker (I got him a doggy puppet and a duck puppet, so we can do some crazy performances for him). Gramma Demone sent an ornament with her picture and a RECORDED GREETING!!! It’s the neatest invention ever. Especially considering that Gramma D. has laryngitis, and yet still managed to record an audible message. Oh, and Evy’s gift to me included a charm for my bracelet with Hollis’s picture on it. Also a mini photo album with Hollis pictures, so I can carry it around in my bag and show everyone.

Other Big News
Q arrives tomorrow!!!!!!!!

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Q Arrives Today! – Monday, Dec.26/05 – 12:07 pm Mtn time
Quinn’s plane doesn’t land until 8:15 pm in Cranbrook, so we’re just hanging out, drinking tea, sudokuing, and admiring Hollis at the kitchen table. My hair is truly fantastic today: I had a shower last night before bed, and now it’s all puffy and forward, like a sloppy pompador. Also, my wisdom tooth (bottom left side) aches. I can see it in the mirror . . . it’s out and I think it’s growing vertically, but I’m not sure. Owwie.

We had a super duper night last night. Mom made a turkey-leftovers dinner (we cooked the turkey the same night as the TurDuckIn). Then we played Cranium, and Dad went to bed at 9pm, and we watched Simpsons and Family Guy (Mom’s first exposure to that one). Jared usually watches his ManSports in the basement (he gets rowdy), but he stayed upstairs to keep us company and Mom let him watch football on her computer. My family is not a sports-watching family . . . Dad watches NASCAR, and he used to watch golf, but that’s it. Once, after I’d moved away, my family hosted a hockey player who’d grown up (obviously) in a hockey family, and he was AMAZED that my family didn’t watch the games all the time, breathe hockey stats, etc. Either he left damaged or evolved . . . I’m not sure. Anyhoo.

This morning I taught Hollis to turn the purple dial on his new toy to make the lights & sounds come on. We’re all very impressed with how “advanced” he is. Also, he looks BEAUTIFUL in the bear hat I gave him. Jared described it as Ewok-like.

Every Christmas I give Jared a book that tells him how to do something (he’s interested in random knowledge, and now that he’s a Dad he’s expected to know even more). Jared gives me slippers. (Which is super, since I have stinky disgusting feet and need to change my slippers annually.) This year I got huge bunny slippers. I can’t wait to see Peter’s reaction. When I had my moose slippers (with massive antlers) he:
1. groomed them;
2. sat around with them all day;
3. tore them apart.

These ones look a lot more like rabbits . . .

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Q, Man of the People – Tuesday, Dec.27/05 – 11:15 am Mtn time
My day feels a little more normal with Q here. After we eat, Mom & Q & I will drive to Canal Flats (35 minutes) to see Hollis. And Evy and Jared. I don’t know what happens when Godfather meets Godson . . . should we expect an angel to descend, or birds in spontaneous flight, or some sort of music? Speaking of birds . . . Mom and Dad gave Hollis a mobile for Christmas. It has three blue birdies that flap their wings, and two butterflies, and a big yellow smiling sun. Evy called us last night so we could hear Hollis LOVING it. He sounded like a velociraptor . . . “RRREEEEKKKK!!!!!” And that was all the way down the hall from Evy on the phone.

Is Quinn the only person in the world who got two keychain breathalizers for Christmas?

Also, it seems that lots of unexpected friends will be around Victoria & therefore coming to our New Year’s party! Reagan’s back from wherever the hell she was, and Leland has moved to Victoria for good, and . . . I think there are others. I’ll make a listy list with Q in the car today. I’m looking forward to the party . . . last year was a complete Love-In of good people who were just very happy to have met each other, and who were really looking forward to spending 2005 having adventures together. This year we still have lots of those same people, and a whole bunch more to add to the mix.

Maybe we could make Sangria . . . or is that just for our infamous moving parties?

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So Tired – Wednesday, Dec.28/05 – 9:58 pm Mtn time
Awoke at 12 noon, finished puzzle, went to Evy & Jared’s for really great dinner, Fairmont Hot Pools for Hollis’s first public swim ever (it was snowing!), and now I’m freaking exhausted.

New Year’s Resolutions, Thus Far
1. buy a hula hoop and use it for fun exercise;
2. get another play produced.

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E.R., Guest Starring Miranda from Sex in the City – Thursday, Dec.29/05 – 10:04 pm Mtn time
Q and I slept in until 10 and 11 (respectively) today, and that’s probably why we’re still awake, despite being so quick to tire every other day this holiday. Also, I’m excited about our New Year’s party.

Atomic Vaudeville is currently mid-performance in Victoria . . . this is the first episode I’ve missed in months. Very very sad. Britt said they’d put a sock monkey in the audience for me.

Oh, and I’ve thought of a third resolution: master the rubix cube. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to be able to do.

Re: travel plans . . . tomorrow afternoon we will drive 1.5 hours to Cranbrook, fly to Vancouver, eat a quick dinner in the airport (if anything is open at 12am, that is), then catch our connecting flight to Victoria. I should be in my own bed, with three living house rabbits (I hope!!!) by 1 am on December 31, 2005.

Coming Soon to a Website Near You, in 2006
I want to try and keep this site up, despite it being a 2005 resolution. But since it’s an expired (and accomplished!!!!!) resolution, there’s the possibility that I might not be as diligent about updating. On the other hand, I really like having a daily record of my weird and wonderful world.

HEATHER: Is this chilli okay to eat?

QUINN: I don’t know. How old is it?

HEATHER: I don’t remember . . . oh, here it is. “Monday: I made chilli today.” It’s a week old, let’s toss it and you can buy us pizza.

I expect some adventures in love . . . this year’s been unsually dull love-wise. At least, in real-life . . . my imagination and subsequent love fantasies have caused a few exciting moments. I have three potential hook-ups in the works . . . It sure would be nice to have one on hand for New Year’s, but I will always have Q. We’ve been together for the past 6 New Year’s . . . or seven?? Since 1999. It comforts me to know that I can reasonably expect to have him around for the next 365 days.

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Alive & Home with 3 Bunnies – Saturday, Dec.31/05 – 1:49 am
Yep. Survived driving from Invermere to Cranbrook in a blizzard, two flights (one from ice to monsoon), and a midnight car ride home (thanks to Liv!!!). All 3 bunnies are alive and seem sprightly . . . although I did find a whole bunch of rat shit on their porch. Goddamn vermin. (Meaning the rat/s, of course.)

Now: bedtime.

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I’m Loved – Saturday, Dec.31/05 – 10:06 am
I’ve waited all year for a declaration of love, and now I have it. It’s not from someone with a penis, which is unexpected. I’m loved by a creative force that’s been with me all year long. The Creative Force next door . . . the friend who, it turns out, is something more. I feel super special today. Thank you, Britt Small.

August 2005

Burned Boobs, Sore Calves, & New IKEA KnickKnacks – Monday, August 1, 2005 – 7pm

Also, my feet stink. I’m going to fix that now.

. . .

The burned boobs are due to Day 2 of Vancouver Pride (Saturday) and my first time ever at a “clothing optional” beach. The boyz and I sprawled on the sands of Wreck Beach and they checked out all the naked hotties from behind their sunglasses while I worked very hard to get rid of my bikini-top tanlines.

JON: Did you put sunscreen on your nipples?

HEATHER: Do nipples burn?

My boobs are an uncomfortable red now, and I’m hoping that the sad tanlines have been destroyed. Sad irony if the burn fades to bright white skin again.

To get to/from Wreck Beach you have to descend/climb a THOUSAND steps, and I don’t know if that’s the direct cause of my achy calves but it’s definitely the only exercise I had this weekend (except for dancing at Celebrities) so it’s the excuse I’m using. Everything from my knees down feels like a very tight rope. A mystery. And it makes stairs extra fun.

Day 4 (today) Q and I went to IKEA and I love IKEA. He bought proper red wine glasses & champagne flutes (he’s really been into champagne lately) and I got a red duvet cover (YAY!!) and some other random shit. Also, an airtight glass container so I can stock up on green tea asap.

And on Day 3 Regan came with us to the parade and it was her first ever Pride Parade. She liked the families the best. I like all the happy love vibes.

I wrote a bunch on my new play, so I’ll put that up fairly soon . . . and I took some pictures . . .

There were many random adventures this weekend that I thought about and intended to mention, but I can’t remember a lot of it. (I think the Prozac is to blame.) But I did get four kisses, from:
1. don’t remember
2. Scott, who has amazing eyebrows
3. Lukas, with sexy Buddy Holly glasses
4. don’t remember.

Also, someone touched my boob. I think it was Jon or Lance.

My favourite thing about gay bars and gay boyz is the feeling of safety. I don’t have to be all defensive about strangers touching me, like women have to at straight clubs (boo to drunk boys with greedy hands); I don’t have to be rude or shoot down anyone who approaches me, since they really are just being nice; there’s ALWAYS someone to dance with (but he’s inevitably a better dancer than me); and when I’m ready to leave, everyone helps find a cab, and no one tries to get into it with me.

Anyhoo, I’m sleepy (despite all my naps this weekend). I’m going to have a shower and change into nammies and watch craptv until I fall asleep.

The Bunnies
Almost forgot — due to fears re: potential rat issues, I moved Seamus & Caramel into the kitchen to protect them while I was away. Peter had the rest of the apartment, as usual. Q always comes in with me when we return from adventures, supposedly to help me with my stuff but really (I suspect) in case a bunny or three is hurt/dead and therefore to save time, since I’d just call him anyways. All 3 are alive and well this time, which is a huge relief. They drank a lot of water but certainly weren’t short on supplies — I always leave out extra in case the Apocalypse comes while I’m out of town.

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Oh Gees, My Feet Stink Really Badly – August 2, 2005 – 8:31 pm
I can’t tell if it’s Peter’s litter box or my socks or even my hands (from putting on my socks) but ew. I think the fact that my feet-stink & the aroma of Peter’s litter box are interchangeable demonstrates just how foul this smell is.

On another note, I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong with my legs (i.e. they hurt a lot): I gave my RockStar a Heather Doll months ago, and I bet he’s been snuggling it a bit too tightly lately and so, due to inadvertant voodoo properties, my legs are really sore now.

I have to burn some incense or light a candle or something. This is vicious.

Word of the Day
“diagnosis”

(Actually, any “diag-” word is pretty neato . . . )

 

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Half-Assed Culinary Endeavors – Wednesday, August 3, 2005 – 5:38 pm
I’m making Kraft dinner. The saddest part is that my first thought, once I found the box and decided to make it, was: I hope I don’t mess up the noodles again. It’s only five ingredients (if you count the water), and yet I continually make inedible KD.

Bonding With Susie
Nathan’s taking me to see a play tonight! I’m excited. I love plays. I hope it’s good. Also, he’s feeding me tequila as a pre-play lubricant, so that’s why I’m eating KD.

Sneaky Plot to Get Some Snuggles
I haven’t mentioned this yet, but my RockStar has been in touch and while I’m not entirely sure of his intentions I’m determined to exploit him for some snuggles. Also, my new play is inspired by him, so I need the material.

Anyhoo, my plot is to lure him over here with promises of a Writing Thingy (he’s weak for writing thingies, I suspect) and then seduce him.

Ha! I’m devious. And seriously in need of some snuggles — I can’t even have a decent afternoon nap these days, because my brain goes all crazy with sexy memories.

That might be one of those private things that I’m not supposed to write about.

Changing the Subject Gracefully
I sat in the sunshine again today while doing my Suduko puzzle and goddamnit, I got those stupid belly-roll/zebra-stripe tanlines again on my stomach. I took immediate action and laid down in the backyard so as to even things out, but too late . . . it’s one thing to have belly rolls; it’s much worse to highlight them.

Also
The bunnies are fine, thanks.

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Unpleasant Flashbacks – August 3, 2005 – 10:46 pm
Ugh.

Sometimes I forget how GODAWFUL everything is when I’m not happily medicated. And then I’m in a situation where factors converge (e.g. sleepiness, giddiness, anxiousness, excitement) and ALL OF A SUDDEN I know that I will go crackers and scream and rant and kill people with my flailing arms UNLESS I let my physical self reassert control over my crazy mental/emotional/chemical self, and therefore I bite my hand.

I consider this an acceptable form of self-harm. It’s better than cutting, burning, steam, or whatever else. Teeth can only do so much damage, and they leave a very satisfying (but temporary and easily concealed) mark.

If an alternative is available, like very cold water or the opportunity to run REALLY HARD, then I do that instead. But in claustrophobic social situations, when I’m dressed up and trying not to get too sweaty, a good quick bite makes everything calm again.

On That Note
I went to see the Ballad of Jim Pane tonight with Nathan and it was a VERY well written, well put-together play. I love anything that makes musicals acceptable to the general population.

If I hadn’t had a freakout and left right away, these are the things I would have liked to discuss with Russ, the playwright:

1. What’s the point of producing a play re: politics from the ’70s? Maybe it’s my own anti-historical, egocentric bias, but I just don’t see what Vietnam-America has to do with my life.

2. Phil Ochs is so good. I’m glad you like him too. Do you like him too? I still remember a verse from “The Crucifixion” from back in my early teens:

Night comes again
to the circle-studded sky
the stars settle slowly
in loneliness they lie
’til the universe explodes
as a falling star is raised
– the planets are paralysed,
the mountains are amazed –
then it all glows brighter
with the brilliance of the blaze
and with the speed of insanity,
he dies.

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Busy, Sad, Drunk, Amused – August 4, 2005 – 9:56 pm
Today was nutty busy at work and also I was ridiculously incompetent. Sometimes that happens. Those are the times that I think: why am I not scribbling and starving and therefore not waking up for crazy early office hours and doing things incorrectly so that I then feel incompetent? And then I remember that I’m usually very good at my job and that I love it and that I have $30,000 in student loan debt and that I can never write when that’s the only thing in my life and THEREFORE that this is the best choice for me at this particular time and THEREFORE that I should just suck up the self-pity and go buy something nice for myself.

Eventually I left and visited my local liquor store where the staff know me (which makes me feel very uncomfortable — I really don’t go there that often. Really.) and I bought Kahluah and something new to me called creme de cacao, which apparently is a super substitute for vodka in White Russians.

And then I went to Q’s and snuggled with Celeste and wandered around in my underwear and drank White Russians until I “fell asleep” on the couch. And then I woke up at 7:30pm and felt MUCH better, so I came home and watched the end of Fight Club, which is freaking genius and always has something new to offer me.

And now I’m going to bed.

BEST NEWS EVER
On the Road is finally going to be made into a movie!!!!!!!!!!!

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craptv is Crap – Friday, August 5, 2005 – 7:48 pm
That’s why I like to own movies.

Watch Your F@#$in’ Mouth
I accidentally bought the censored version of The Marshall Mathers LP back in my early days of Eminem. It might have been fate: that version deletes all the “offensive” words, like “faggot,” that might have coloured my affection for the music. Or not. We’ll never know.

I finally got around to getting the real version, and now I’m surprised to see how tame the “offensive” words are: I imagined worse when I filled in the blanks. But then, I have a filthy mouth.

My sexy iBook came with iTunes, which comes with an iMusicStore, where I can buy (i)Music. I’ve never had good luck with those (illegal) download sites: I crashed two or three PCs with Kazaa. So I really love iMusicStore, because I can pay a dollar for a song or about $10 for a whole CD, and that way I get quality music for cheap without the spyware and et cetera.

Also I don’t like screwing over artists, even billionaires* like Marshall Mathers. (*I considered including “bigots” for alliterative effect, but I don’t consider Eminem a bigot so no.)

Bitter Scripts
I’ve been distracted lately by BEING CRAZY, so I haven’t worked on this as much as I’d like to. Hopefully I’ll get another scene or so done this weekend.

I offered to describe my creative process to Q, since famous writers are often asked about their creative process, but he had Absolutely No Interest Whatsoever.

Heather’s Creative Process
I don’t want to talk about conception; I might jinx it. But once an idea is there and open to development, I like to carry around hardcopies of the latest version so I can make notes and write new bits on the backsides and (if necessary) give a current version to anyone who’s interested (aka one of my director or actor or writer friends). After my story “(Title Goes Here)” was sorta in script form for On the Rag I went through about seven hardcopies.

Brad Pitt’s Wisdom
re: generation gap between us and our grand/parents:

“Our war is a spiritual war. Our depression is our lives.”
– Tyler Durden, Fight Club

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Crispy Skin – Saturday, August 6, 2005 – 10:04 pm
Q wanted to go to Thetis Lake today and look at all the hootchies for a few hours, so we recruited Jessie, Shawn & Andrew to amuse us at the beach.

QUINN: You invited a redhead?! He better bring 45 sunscreen.

Andrew & Jessie & I tried very hard to remember how to play crib, and we ended up playing this mutant card game, which I eventually won. Shawn’s reading a collection of novellas written by the guy who wrote Clockwork Orange, Q’s mid-The Kid by Dan Savage, and Andrew’s trying to like A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Jessie and I just laid there and tried to look pretty.

After three or so hours we were hungry – Shawn had missed at least 2 of his 7 daily meals – so we went to the Six Mile Pub and ate poutine and drank. It’s about then that I noticed a distinctly “crispy” feeling on my left side. Like the skin was extra tight and sensitive.

Once I was about to have my 6-9pm nappy nap I realised that my left side is very red. Especially my ass.

Recipe For a Sunburn-Soothing Bath
Water temperature: tepid water
Cut a cucumber into slices and put them within arm’s reach.
Pour 1/2 cup cornstarch under the running tap.
Add 6-12 black tea or chamomile teabags.
Get into the tub.
Layer any above-surface burned areas with the cukes.
Lie there for at least 20 minutes, to give the teabags’ anti-inflammatory effects time to work.

This recipe is one of many in my book The Bath Gourmet, by Rhonda Van.

I’m nervous about wasting the teabags.

Letting Shawn Read My New Script
I’m reluctant to share works-in-progress because it makes the reader(s) feel uncomfortable, as if they have to like it and sit there and read it with me watching and etc. I like posting my writing here: it’s anonymous, so you can read it or not and I won’t know. And it motivates me to write more.

Anyhoo, Shawn has managed to read both my recent scripts while they were still being written. The current one includes him as a character, so that’ll be extra weird for him, I suspect. Whatever: I warned him.

Also, I find it amusing to watch a reader read about himself. Shawn makes funny faces and looked a little ill afterward.

Ha.

Recap of Last Night
My boobs looked amazing. I’m not used to my cleavage being the focal point of a night out, but yep. Spencer has resolved to be the last boy to touch my boobs before . . . I die? get some? I can’t remember what . . . but regardless it requires Spencer to squish a boob or two every day he sees me. This isn’t often noticed at the gay bar, but at Hush I think some people were paying attention.

Anyhoo. Spencer & Q & I went to Hush and watched boys “in shiny shirts,” as Shawn would say, dance to “trance” music which I don’t understand but whatever. We were trying to break out of our Prism pattern: Spencer even dressed fairly straight, except for the bracelet.

SPENCER: I’m just a straight boy who knows how to accessorize.

Oddly, Hush was a cash-only bar (I dunno if this is a regular thing for them, but it’s certainly inconvenient).

JESSIE: I don’t do cash.

So among the three of us we managed to pay for cover and one round of drinks. We were considering a bank run when I found a $20 bill on the floor. (Oh, yeah, I’m a Good Luck Charm. Have I mentioned that?) So we could afford a second round, which got us to Prism for our third (they take credit cards there — how innovative) and ultimately paid for four slices of crapPizza at the local pizza thing.

I wanted a BigMac & fries but whaddyaknow, McDonald’s is closed at 2am on Friday night. Some people have NO BUSINESS SENSE WHATSOEVER.

That’s my recap. I had a very good time, except for the end at Prism when Steve two-stepped me around to that “Take Me Home” song and I thought I was going to puke.

Other favourite ‘mos spotted last night: Charlie, Cameron, Duncan, Cam, Jamie . . .

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Ass o’ Aloe Gel – Sunday, August 7, 2005 – 7:09 pm
Heaven = having a friend who loves you enough to rub aloe vera gel onto your burned ass.

In Other News
I hate CHUM TV. They closed down the block on Broad Street where Q lives, even going so far as to park two promo-vehicles directly in front of the garage doors. The irony is that they were having an “Ice Cream Block Party” to thank Victorianites for supporting their new station – “A” something – and yet they were so inconsiderate to the local residents.

This is exactly the sort of random inconvenience that sparks my Inappropriate Anger Management Issue. I didn’t hit anyone, lucky for them, but I did yell “you people suck” when disembarking from the taxi cab with my basket of laundry, and then when I took Celeste out for her pee I was extremely generous with her leash-length. Unfortunately, she didn’t bite anyone.

Then Q made me drink a cider –

QUINN: Have a cider.

– and I felt a little better. Then we ate a huge, greasy breakfast at Floyd’s Diner. Then I bought Aloe Vera Gel for my sunburn and Q kindly smeared it all over my backside and I fell asleep on his couch. By the time I woke up, the CHUM TV fuckers had packed up.

I think that means I won.

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Satisfaction – Monday, August 8, 2005 – 9:04 pm
Today I worked for 7 hours, refilled my Happy Pills prescription, ate two proper meals and a plate of cheese & crackers & pickles, ran around the block, lifted my wee weight to make my biceps big (aka to get rid of wiggly arm fat), cleaned up after / fed / watered my bunnies, tidied my house, sat in the sunshine, did two Suduko puzzles, watched 1/2 hour of stand-up comedy, had three showers, drank one glass of cheap wine, and wrote one new scene (four pages of notes) for my new play.

It’s surprising that 1 hour of script writing is more satisfying than 7 hours of “day job” work. Once I’d typed in the new stuff and changed what I wanted to on the old stuff, I felt like I’d done SO MUCH — in a good, accomplished way, not in an exhausted way.

It doesn’t take a lot of time to write. I know so many people who “want” to write but they don’t. But 30 minutes of writing a day = 1 Simpsons’ rerun. And I feel smarter and more self-aware and more like I’m ACTIVE in my life after writing, whereas Simpsons, while funny, makes me sleepy and restless.

I guess I’m just lucky to have found that THING that makes me happy; but I take full credit for letting myself DO it.

Disclaimer
There comes a point where characters stray from the people they’re based on, so my disclaimer is that FROM TODAY ON none of you muses are allowed to be offended by what your characters do in my new play. Truth is being sacrificed to accomodate my plot. Thank you for not hating me 🙂

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Death to A.E. Housman – Tuesday, August 9, 2005 – 3:52 pm
Due to CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS (aka Quinn) abusing the comments section (aka posting crappy pastoral poetry), I will no longer be providing a venue for you people to post your own shite. (See, Q? One bad apple ruins the whole freaking pie. Pooh.)

Meanwhile
I worked very long hours today, running around (that’s a metaphor — I just sat at my desk and stared at a computer screen for 8 hours) and getting all kinds of SuperHero Heather work done.

So I bought a green tea frappaccino at Starbucks as a lovepresent to myself, and drank it while walking home.

And NOW I plan to wear the most comfortable nammies I can find and drink some of my favourite bad wine while doing today’s Suduko puzzle from the Globe & Mail.

This is a mighty fine life.

P.S. Peter
The bunnies are shedding so I bought a can of crushed pineapple yesterday, which helps them digest all the hair they swallow while grooming. (Yes, pineapple — weird.) And just now I looked over at Peter to blow him a bunny kiss, and he was leaning over to eat from his pellet dish, with both front paws immersed in the pineapple bowl.

Sometimes I start to anthropromorphise my bunnies, and then they do something totally inane and they’re rodents all over again.

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Newfound Freedom – Wednesday, August 10, 2005 – 3:12 pm
Maybe you’ve already discovered the joys of lounging around in your undies, but it’s a new pleasure of mine and I’m taking advantage of it at every opportunity.

I’ve always been a PJ gal, with an extensive collection of flannel and cotton pants, slippers, housecoats . . . but this summer is Summer of the Panties and so every day after work I throw down my professional (or not) work skirt and peel off my top and change into the softest, brightest undies I can find and a tanktop. Bra-free; socks optional.

Carrie on Sex and the City might have subconsciously led to my new “look” — I dunno. I love feeling pseudo-naked and strapless.

My Monthly Rut
I go through times of brilliance and others of rut, and I’m currently in a rut. It’ll pass, but while I’m mid-rut please overlook the dull writing and blah blah blah. It’s normal, and is complemented by a subsequent week or two of STUNNING CREATIVITY, which will no doubt astound you and empower me to finish my new play. Meanwhile, I’ll lounge in my underwear and drink too many White Russians.

Sleep + Writing = 50:50 Chance o’ Shite
I scribbled a new scene last night at about 11/12, but now I realise that it’s terrible so I won’t bother posting it. I hate it when that happens. I was all excited about having a new scene . . .

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A Feminist’s Tragic Confession – Thursday, August 11, 2005
Ugh. While walking to work yesterday I analyzed why exactly I want my RockStar to show up at my door.

100% Honest Reasons:
1. I’m in need of some quality physical affection;
2. I’m bored.

Conclusion: these are selfish, dependent-on-man motivations. Therefore, they are sucky motivations, and not at all the sort of motivations that I want to have affecting my life.

The only alternative, though, is to come up with some way to inject excitement into my life BY MYSELF, with no penises required. Here are some ideas:
1. produce a play;
2. move;
3. travel;
4. learn something new;
5. find religion and/or join a sports team.

Personally, I’m fond of #1.

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Confession to End All Confessions – Friday, August 12, 2005 – 5:08 pm
I am trying out online dating.

Oh yes.

I was inspired, in part, by Rowan’s roomie and non-romantic life partner Darcy, who has met his own Internet Love Goddess recently. It seems unfair to bitch and moan about there being no single, straight, quality men here when I haven’t TRULY tried everything, so here I am. Shopping for men online. Yep.

Last stop after this: speed-dating. Then I move to Vancouver.

In Your Future, I See . . .
Today I’m in theory spending quality time with Shawn, but after last time I refused to commit (or allow him to commit) to this plan so as to avoid disappointment and fury. So in theory I will get to talk about my play and love dramas and other smart and witty things after work, but not definitely.

This weekend Jessie & the Q and I are going to stalk sexy Dragon Boaters at the Dragon Boat Festival. It’s basically a sexy-people convention.

And then on Monday I’m having tea with Liv and her momma, who is visiting from Bella Coola. I LOVE having tea, especially with Liv. She now has a car, which is weird, and also she returned from her vacation with her family on Tuesday so maybe she’ll have exciting stories to tell re: bush parties and 4x4ing and drinking Kokanee.

I missed Liv.

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Saturday With a Dissenter – August 13, 2005 – 10:48 pm
That’s the best adjective I can think of for Shawn. He’s argumentive and not overly optimistic, but in a pleasantly entertaining way.

Despite our time yesterday with me sloppily drunk, bemoaning my forced-celibacy, Shawn called to play this morning and I kidnapped him and we spent most of the daytime together. I later found out that his girlfriend was working today, so therefore I was Plan B, but I suppose that’s alright. If there had been any possible likelihood AT ALL that my RockStar would have shown up at my door today, I wouldn’t have been wandering around Victoria with someone else. Even someone as amusing & uber-smart as Shawn. (Opportunity for physical affection, and all.)

I’m sure that MANY of you are mocking, to some degree, my decision to do the Online Thing (or “OT”), and to you I say: Don’t fret, Shawn is taking care of all the necessary taunts.

Also, I bet most of you haven’t gone nearly as long as I have without cuddles, so screw you and your judgemental assumptions 🙂

Bonding With the Q
I stayed over at the Q’s last night. I laid down for a little nappy nap at 9 or 10pm, and then woke up and it was 1am and Celeste was spooning me. Q also woke up about then, and he read Dan Savage’s The Kid aloud for me until 3am or so, and then we went back to sleep.

It is a very funny book, by the way. It’s about Dan and his man Terry adopting their son. I recommend it. Not that I’m actually READING it or anything; I don’t do that anymore. (Moment of grief for my wasted English Lit degree . . .)

Dinner
I feel the need to mention that I was craving Thrifty’s seven-layer bean dip tonight. Q and I went to Safeway and I bought refried beans and then I made my own version, which has only four layers (beans, sour cream, salsa and chedder cheese) and now I’m wondering what the other 3 layers are supposed to be. We ate it with chips & corn on the cob, and the meal as a whole was oddly satisfying.

OT Update
I have about five new boyfriends. I know some of their names. Maybe.

My OT criteria include:
– no one who uses the word “ladies,” as in: “Hey, ladies”;
– no one who claims to enjoy reading but who can’t spell very simple words;
– no one who writes “lol” or “lmao” (MSN and other Instant Messaging programs have destroyed the literacy AND common sense of my generation);
– no one who even sort of maybe kind of seems gay. I’ve been down that road too many times, and I am NOT tempting any god who thinks it’s funny to mess with me like that. Sly bastard.

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Kevin Spacey – Sunday, August 14, 2005 – 4:06 pm
I was watching American Beauty until Q and Celeste took me to Beaver Lake for the afternoon. I’ve been waiting to be in the right mood for American Beauty and this must be it, because I’m really loving it, even more than the first time (when I saw it in the theatre amidst excessive hype).

Beaver Lake is, surprisingly, a good beach – nice sand, decent trails from one body o’ water to the next, dog areas, even a token hottie over at the Elk Lake side. Q approved of the water, and I liked its minimal hootchie population & dog-friendliness. It was a great intermission: now, back to our movie . . .

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And So It Begins – August 14, 2005 – 7:12 pm
I had my first phone conversation with an Online Guy (“OG”) tonight. So awkward. He seems decent enough, which is why I gave him my phone number in the first place. He’s short: 5’11” or something. I should know better than to waste a short man’s time. But he’s an artist and a “finishing contractor/carpenter” and he has nice eyebrows, so I’m trying to be openminded. (Really, he has no chance. It’s just kind of fun to think of flirty things to say.)

Things I Realised When Speaking to a Stranger:

  • I don’t make a lot of sense.
  • I’m a lot funnier than most people think I am.
  • I don’t mumble: other people just don’t hear right.
  • I hate the non-word “chillaxin’.” Yes, this OG actually said “chillaxin’,” and in a sentence, e.g.: “Tonight I’m just chillaxin’.” I can’t have children with someone who says “chillaxin’.”

Moment of Self-Pity & the Temptations of Censorship
I’m terribly tempted to NOT mention this whole online thing on this site. However, I have resolved to tell the whole truth (when it’s about me) and screw the consequential embarassment, so you will get the stories I have to tell, in all their uncomfortable detail.

You see? I’m doing this for YOU people. It’s all about YOU. I’m just a martyr, being tormented daily for the amusement of all you PLACID, COUPLED-UP wankers who like to see me squirm.

I’m like a Dating Jesus.

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Quote of the Weekend – Monday, August 15, 2005 – 6:38 pm
SHAWN: I would take up drug-dealing, but I’m not nearly social enough.

“Babies = Parasites”
I had an utterly misguided conversation with my Dadders last night. I somehow, for some reason, starting talking about The Meaning of Life, while Dad started to reassure me that love solves everything and that Fate + Patience brings love.

What I was TRYING (and failing) to say is that: I need to be writing something, otherwise I have no purpose. It’s not a bad thing. This doesn’t cause me stress. It gives me direction and an inexpressible (is that a word?) feeling of accomplishment. Anxieties re: love, physical affection, and so on are temporary and biological and NOT important to me in the Greater Scheme of Things.

But it’s difficult to find the right words to say: “Yes, I understand that having babies is satisfying, but really that’s just another parasite you’ve created to feed on and ultimately destroy our world.” Not really the sort of thing you tell your parent, or a soon-to-be-grandfather.

Meanwhile, Chatting With Momma
Mom commented on the ironic juxtaposition (I’m paraphrasing) of last week’s “Feminist Statement Re: Not Needing A Man” vs. the next day’s “Online Shopping For Men.” This is ENTIRELY the point. It’s this contradiction that is keeping me awake at night and making me stir crazy. How can I be an independent woman if I want love? But I want love. But I’m an independent woman. So I will write a love story. And it will be feminist. But it’s a love story. But I’m a feminist. Feminists can be in love. How can a feminist be in love? What does that kind of love look like? Who would a feminist love? Who do I love?

Blah blah blah.

About That Love Story
I wrote a lot more last night. I’ll post it later today.

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AGHHGHGHGHGHG – Tuesday, August 16, 2005 – 8:23 pm
Ahem.

Beaver Lake & Q’s Magnificence
The Q, Celeste and I went to Beaver/Elk Lake this afternoon. Q ran 10 KILOMETRES (yes, ten!!!!) around the lakes and Celeste & I played in a field and ogled hot runner boys.

It’s windy today and not the usual hot&humid sunny it’s been lately. Maybe it’s the wild weather or a new moon or something, but my restlessness is as restless as ever.

I suppose it might be the lack of exercise. I walk to/from work and at most every opportunity, but I haven’t run around the block for weeks. That might be worth trying.

First, though, I need to eat something yummy.

Crazy Deal At Munro’s Book Store
Liv told me about this: Munro’s is currently selling boxsets of the Gryphon & Sabine books — the ones with envelopes and you take out the letters to read their correspondence. Munro’s is selling them not for $30-$40 per book, which is usual, but . . . $15 for the set!!!! Ohmigod it’s craziness. I bought two sets, because I like symmetry and I can’t not exploit this insane deal.

Sometimes I think Jim Munro is losing it. He once had Michael Ondaatje’s Handwriting in softcover for $3.99.

Oh, and also, when I told Shawn about this amazing deal (he’s on my list of those to notify in the event of Crazy, Act Now! Book Sales) he had no idea what I was talking about. So clearly it’s all a scam and he doesn’t have an MA in English Lit, and he probably only “reads” girly mags, and his big words are just random sounds tossed together that I manage to interpret as vocabulary.

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What I’m Willing to Stick In My Belly – Wednesday, August 17, 2005 – 4:06 pm
It all began a year or so ago when I went into the tattoo & piercing shop in Market Square with Matte. I saw a belly-barbell with a bright yellow bead at the bottom, and if you looked REALLY closely you could read, in black capital letters: FUCK YOU.

So of course I decided to pierce my belly button.

However, when they pierce it they use a hoop of metal, so I couldn’t get the Fuck You barbell right away; I’d have to wait 6 months to a year for the piercing to heal, and then I could buy it in my size (piercings come in sizes!).

SOOOO a few weeks/months ago I went into The Patch because I wanted to order this same barbell, and I love The Patch so I thought I could support them by purchasing it through them. However, Chris the owner refuses to stock “offensive” jewellery so they said they’d order it specially for me.

This week they called and said it was in, and so I went by after work and IT’S THE WRONG BARBELL.

It says, in white bubble letters: FUCK U. I’m a writer; I can’t wear something that isn’t a proper word.

I went to the Market Square store, but they don’t stock that company’s products anymore. And then I went to Urge, where they’d offered to insert the new piercing for me, and they don’t stock the barbell, so I was sad.

Then they offered to buy the Fuck U barbell from me, to make me feel better, and this was very nice of them since I simply could NOT bear to wear it.

So I still have my ring piercing and no Fuck You barbell. I’m relunctant to return to The Patch and ask them to order another one — they went through so much to get me the first version — but that’s my only option at this time. At least they’re getting $10 per piercing for their troubles.

Pleasant Distractions
Also, Shawn has a new job and he emailed me 1,000 times today because he’s training and therefore bored. I love having a new distraction.

Crisis @ Work
Oh, and when I got to work this morning some of the ceiling panels had collapsed (or were about to) because of the rain last night and inadequate irrigation systems.

My first instinct was to sit and watch everything short-circuit and collapse, but then I thought: “What would a responsible employee do in this situation?” so instead I put buckets under the drips, unplugged the electrical stuff, and called maintenance.

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Bonding With the Kids – Thursday, August 18, 2005 – 10:12 pm
Jessie & I were supposed to drink martinis and eat steak at Syn with Liv tonight, but she’s hungover from last night so instead we bonded with Shawn.

Also, I got furiously ill IMMEDIATELY after eating my last bite of steak and I ran to the washroom and puked.

I have no idea why: Jessie theorizes food poisoning. I suspect work stress and the bizarre situation of sitting directly across the room from a guy I once dated (named “Vitto”).

Whatever. After puking like a drunken hootchie I felt completely better, and Jessie & Shawn and I walked to my house and they drank rum and I finished off my bottle of $4.99 Boone’s Sangria and Jessie and Shawn kept talking about sex and I just tried to remember what that whole “sex” thing is. Insensitive bastards.

It was LOTS of fun to see two people I love/like bond.

Now there’s a huge fucking moth beating itself against my window (due to my desk light) so I’ll shut it off and go to bed.

I love the people in my life.

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Stood-Up By a Horny Rabbit – Friday, August 19/05 – 10:15 pm
Peter was all gushy mushy this morning, following me around the apt while I got dressed and licking my slippers. So I gave him some quickie cuddles and promised that I’d stay in tonight and we could snuggle on the couch until he was sated.

I even bought parsley.

But he has stood me up: he’s been hiding under the furniture and lounging in his litterbox.

Update on the Boob Burn
Earlier this week my boobs, burned a la Wreck Beach a few weekends ago, started peeling. It was so cool.

And in Other News
Now when I find a letter in my mailbox from my RockStar I get nervous, because WAY too often the contents are sad, confusing, or disconcerting. Today he has asked for my assistance in getting him published in some literary journals (I offered to help a while back). I love the idea of helping people do stuff that I’m (not really) knowledgeable about; I’m a true eldest child. But I’m also shocked and appalled (on a regular basis these days) by just how utterly Ryan is immersed in his own head. I suppose it’s understandable to some extent, what with the craziness and all, and also he’s 23 and that’s fairly normal for 23 year old males, especially artsy ones.

But still! I’ve had a long, stressful week at work; I’ve been combating sexual frustration since our last cuddle THREE MONTHS AGO; and I’m completely lost as to whether I’ll ever even see my RockStar again in non-letter form.

I’d really appreciate some empathy.

Regardless, I consider it a PURPOSE IN LIFE to help others get on the paths they are MEANT to walk, and Ryan is an amazing writer. So for now I’m an editor/agent instead of a love interest.

I’m taking what I can get.

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Reading About John Nash – Saturday, August 20/05 – 7:43 pm
(Some women read self-help books to understand the men they love; I read the biography of a schitzophrenic mathematician. Anyhoo . . . )

Here’s a neat part that summarises WAY too many conversations I’ve had (or tried to have) recently with my family & friends:

Some creative people . . . of predominately schizoid or depressive temperaments . . . use their creative capacities in a defensive way. If creative work protects a man [OR WOMAN] from mental illness, it is small wonder that he [OR SHE] pursues it with avidity. The schizoid state . . . is characterized by a sense of meaninglessness and futility. For most people, interaction with others provides most of what they require to find meaning and significance in life. For the schizoid person, however, this is not the case. Creative activity is a particularly apt way to express himself [OR HERSELF] . . . the activity is solitary . . . but the ability to create and the productions which result from such ability are generally regarded as possessing value by our society.

– Anthony Storr, The Dynamics of Creation, 1972, via Sylvia Nasar’s A Beautiful Mind, pages 15-6.

Caramel’s Tumour
My token house chore of the day was to clean up the bunnies’ porch and (if I could catch them) clip their nails.

I couldn’t get Seamus, but while I was hunting Caramel I noticed that she had a huge funky chunky dark thing attached to her, right by her back left leg.

(Moment of panic re: do I take her to the vet if it’s a tumour??? I’m a bad bunny mommy — should have noticed this sooner . . . hey, that rhymed . . .)

So I eventually caught her, and investigated with great trepidation, and discovered that the Thing, which was the size of a big cherry tomato, was a ball of poop that had dried and attached itself to her fur.

Ew. And, whew.

And THEN I had to cut it off, which was scary because bunnies bleed very easily if they get any sort of cut and that’s dangerous. But there was a little less than a centimetre of fur between skin & shit, so everything went well in the end.

And I can only assume that Caramel now loves me, since bunnies are so finicky about grooming & personal hygeine, and that ball of shit must have tormented her.

CARAMEL: Just chew the goddamn thing off, Seamus!

SEAMUS: I’m scared of it.

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Owwie – Sunday, August 21/05 – 10:04 am
(self-pitying whimper . . .)

My eye hurts. It started yesterday, and now REALLY hurts today — well, actually, not “hurts” persay but rather feels stiff and dried-out and otherwise “off.” I checked it out in the mirror and it looks like I’ve had a mini-stroke (the paralysis kind), because my left eyelid is pink and crooked and . . . puffy? I don’t know. And it sort of scratches when I blink. (Another whimper.)

So today’s plan includes a trip to my doctor.

I don’t normally get eye problems, aside from the whole “I’m blind without corrective eyewear” thing. And considering that my day job consists entirely of LOOKING AT STUFF, including eye-unfriendly computer monitors, I’m hoping to get this fixed today.

Ow.

UPDATE, Thanks to the B.C. HealthGuide
I think I have pink eye.

UPDATE, Thanks to the Walk-In Clinic – 12:37 pm
I don’t have pink eye.

HEATHER to DOCTOR: What’s wrong with me????

DOCTOR (points to my file): Aside from the psychiatric disorders?

HEATHER: No fair! I’m not a hypochondriac!

Apparently I have an “irritated eye” caused by allergies/crap-in-the-eye/whatever. So the doctor gave me a prescription for $37 eye drops, and I got it filled at London Drugs and eyedropped my achy eye in the sunglasses section.

The worst part of the whole experience is that I have to wear my glasses instead of contacts (for obvious reasons) and my glasses are a stronger prescription so now I can see all the imperfections in my skin, random eyebrow hairs, et cetera. I prefer blind ignorance.

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Meeting Virtual Men – Monday, August 22/05 – 6:19 pm
I met my first online boy today. His name is Yaseem and he has the prettiest eyes in the world. He is not tall enough for me — I knew any potential romance was doomed as soon as he got off his motorbike — but he’s funny funny funny and we have good talks.

Yaseem writes occassionally for Maxim Magazine — or, at least, he has business cards with their logo (isn’t meeting new people fun?). It makes me happy when people manage to write, despite all the shit and pro-business, pro-boring attitudes in the world. Pro-boring. I like that word. Proboring.

Been There, Done That
Spotted another tall, sexy scruffy man today while walking back from lunch. It was, of course, another of my ex-boyfriends: Rob Parker, aka SuperRob, aka Clifford. He called me “H-Bomb.” Best nickname ever. Now Rob looks like a mountain man, beard and all. I love love love seeing beautiful men and knowing that they once loved me, made me dinner, went crazy for some particular perfume . . .

When Is a Stye Not a Stye?
My eye was even worse this morning so I went to a walk-in optometrist and she said I have a stye. Ew.

Also, since my stye is on my eyelid (rather than in an eyelash follicle), it’s extra awful and will take longer to heal.

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The Life Aquatic – Tuesday, August 23/05 – 9:22 pm
This is, I think, my favourite Bill Murrary movie ever. And I love the combination of him and whatsername, who plays his wife in this one, and plays Momma Tennanbaum in the Royal Tennanbaums. They work well together. (Is she the same one who was Cruella Deville?????? I’m terrible with movie names.)

I also rented Napoleon Dynamite and Robin William’s live stand-up DVD (I saw that years ago, back when it was on VHS, and literally rolled on the couch with laughter). Tomorrow I intend to stay up past my regular bedtime so that I can go to the Fringe Preview Night, so I plan to cuddle with Celeste, nap, and watch movies to keep me awake at Quinn’s.

Also, I ran into Andrew after his tech rehearsal for Scrupulosity, and I am VERY excited about his play on Thursday.

I love the Fringe festival. I love being involved with theatre people.

CBC Unplugged
HA! CBC’s talent, currently locked out, have started their own rebel broadcast!

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Feeling Special – Thursday, August 25/05 – 12:18 am
I went to the Fringe Theatre Festival’s Preview Night tonight. Everyone I usually recruit as arm candy turned me down, so I went alone and felt super brave.

Thanks to Atomic Vaudeville and my participation in the Fringe last year, I knew a lot of the people there tonight: it felt like a small town Academy Awards. But there weren’t any awards, just alcohol and mini-theatre performances.

Also, I talked to some of my favourites about making my new scripts into play productions: Britt Small, the Best Little Director and Momma of Atomic Vaudeville, aka Jenna Bush; and Carolyn Birch, my tap-dancing dishwasher from last year’s The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate and a Bride With BackFat in this year’s Last One to the Altar. Hopefully I’ll have another play on stage before this time next year!

If I ever figure out how to finish BitterScripts then I’d like to do that one, since I already know who I’d want to play some of the characters (e.g. Rod Peter Jr. as Tim) . . .

Heather, The Legend
I give money to performers to support their shows, and as a result Carolyn told me that there is a subculture of gossip re: what I do for a living. Apparently the top theory is that I breed rabbits.

HA!

I told her that I write for the gov’t.

CAROLYN: So it’s guilt money.

And maybe it is.

Frightening Seniors & Other Hobbies
Gramma Walker showed my site to a friend and she was “shocked.” Imagine how much fun this will be once I’ve written my inevitable novel, and all our Irish relatives are reading it for their book clubs, and Mom’s stocking library shelves with copies, and I’m sending them out as Christmas/Birthday/everything gifts. Because I can practically guarantee that there will be sex, swear words, and an excess of uncomfortable personal details.

I’m really glad that I’m the writer, and can control what gets said about me in my plays. You people must get pretty nervous 🙂

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4 Plays in 2 Days – Friday, August 26/05
Last night Jessie & I saw CockTales in its revised version. I especially loved the commercial bits — SoftPole for adolescent boys who can’t keep it down . . . ha!

Then we ate sushi faster than anyone should ever eat sushi, and made it back to see Andrew Bailey’s Scrupulosity with Shawn/Sean and Quinn. Jessie said later that the show was painful in parts, because it was so personal, and I agree. I think it’s a good thing, though, to have the courage to talk about that sort of shit, and also to be able to create a play that talks about it without sounding like a whiny therapy session. I LOVED some bits, like at the start when Andrew keeps washing his hands, because everyone recognizes that as a stereotypical OCD issue, and so he could then go on and talk about Satan and praying and being a Good Person and it set up the audience to understand, ultimately, that his experience with Good and Evil was another sort of compulsive behaviour. It’s the quieter kind of OCD.

Anyhoo, I’d STRONGLY recommend both CockTales and Scrupulosity to anyone who can attend Victoria’s Fringe plays this year. CockTales feels a little false, like Mike and Rod are just acting out the stereotypes of Men, but maybe that’s because they’re both actors and artsy and so it’s difficult for me to see them as insensitive, flatulating brutes.

Tonight Liv and Jessie and I are seeing two plays (+ martinis + food), and I’ll probably be up late again. I will report back when able.

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Shit vs. Shazaam – Saturday, August 27/05 – 8:29 am
Jessie, Liv and I saw two plays last night. Marcella was REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD; Cannibal! the Musical was REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD.

I’ve already written my glowing review (see “Craig Online”) of Cannibal, but now I don’t know what to do re: Marcella. I’m not very comfortable with being cruelly vicious, and this disaster of a Fringe performance deserves cruel viciousness. To be fair, I suspect that the actress was ill/sleep-deprived/on drugs. She seemed to know, to some extent, how “stale” the show was. But then I’d start to feel sympathetic, and she’d stumble through another awkward “improv” bit (none of which were at all even sort of funny) or turn back to her notes to check what she was supposed to do next (really), and I’d think, Why don’t you just admit that something’s off tonight, give us our money back, and call it a show? But no, the fairly well-sized audience sat through until the end (unless anyone in the back left — I stayed because I was in the third row and too visible to sneak away).

Love @ The Fringe Festival
Yes, apparently there are still some undiscovered hotties in Victoria. Most of them ARE coupled-up already, judging by the rampant handholding last night, but there were at least four men in the audience last night (and two on stage!) that I would be interested in. I was only brave enough to talk to one, though, and I think that’s because he’s probably about 18 years old. Those young ones are so user-friendly! My pick-up line was as follows:

HEATHER: Aren’t you in a Fringe play?

Yes, I’m so smooth. So original. Eventually I felt transparent and left, but he kept talking (not to himself) so I turned back and trekked on for a few more minutes.

HEATHER: Maybe I’ll see you at another show.

Wink wink. Whatever.

Also, I told Carolyn Birch (aka Dancing Dishwasher, aka Bride With BackFat — see above) about my . . . situation . . . and she’s already working on recruiting some action. Including one of the hotties from Cannibal.

Ways In Which I Embarrassed Liv & Jessie Last Night
I tend to cause polite but awkward scenes. I promised Liv & Jessie that I wouldn’t embarrass them; here’s how I failed:

At the restuarant: counselled the manager (WHOM I KNOW, SORT OF) re: nacho recipes for his new menu.

At Cannibal: asked Victor (A SWEETHEART ‘MO & ACTOR I MET THAT NIGHT) to smush down his puffy blond curls because they were blocking Liv’s view of the stage.

Also, I get giddy around theatre people because I find them smart and exciting and quick, and I’m assuming that at some point I made L&J feel awkward about my groupie-ness.

But Whatever
I enjoyed seeing an extremely bad and an extremely good performance. Now that either end of the spectrum has been defined, I can better-understand the other Fringe plays I’ll see this week.

Also, I’m making a lot of quality connections that will help with my subsequent performances.

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Men Who Talk Too Much – Sunday, August 28/05 – 12:03 am
Ugh.

I went to three plays today:
Wodysk or something: Victor was fucking brilliant; felt like the Rocky Horror Picture Show; went on a bit too long; I recommend it. Live band, so that’s neato.

A Fear of Going Down: unnecessary sexual innuendo; characters are ever-so-subtly named Adam, Lilith, and Dante; the actor playing the breeder-fiancee was clearly gay (therefore, it was hard to believe their breeder relationship). Whatever.

Sparkle Bunny, the Last Raver Dancing: not too deep but a well-spent 45 minutes. Excellent actress.

Between each performance I had an hour or more of conversation + a meal with a straight man. Firstly, Rod Peter Jr, of whom I am a great fan (Atomic Vaudeville, CockTales, etc., the guy I made out with on stage for their Spiderman skit). He’s 20 and maybe he was nervous because we haven’t talked properly before, but holy christ he would not shut up. I was done my burger & fries and he’d barely begun to dissect his chicken strips. (Because he was talking so much — get it?) Topics: a run-down of every skit he’s ever done, reasons why certain changes were made to each skit, thoughts on acting technique, blah blah blah.

Then I met up with Chris, one of only two men I was at all interested in via my ever-embarrassing online-dating phase. He had pretty dimples but again, fucking fuckity fuck, please shut up. Topic: his thoughts and experiences re: anything that occurred to him. He also was not afraid to interupt my infamous anecdotes.

For example:

HEATHER: My wisdom teeth are growing in.

CHRIS: I had my first one pulled in China, and the other three as soon as I got home. (Then proceeds to narrate for 30 minutes on hospital cleanliness, cultural friendliness, the benefits of 24 hour pharmacies, the chatty surgeons who operated on him, the kind of anaesthetic they used and its side-effects, reasons why wisdom teeth might become an “issue,” reasons why they might not, as well as the wisdom tooth escapades of his friends, family, and aquaintances.)

Also, during his monologues Chris referred to “my girlfriend at the time,” “my first date with this girl,” and various sorts of significant-other type scenarios at LEAST 20 times. I’m a fairly openminded gal when it comes to personal history/baggage (having dated more than one gay man myself), but THIS IS JUST NOT A GOOD THING TO DO.

First thought: ew, you’re dirty.
Second thought: ew, you’re trying to show me that other women have loved you and can love you. “They’ll vouch for me!” How misguided and ignorant! You clearly don’t understand anything about dating etiquette.
Third thought: hopefully he thinks he’s hot stuff so he won’t be sad when we never speak ever ever again. I hate making people sad.

In Other News
Tomorrow I have two or three more plays to see!!! Yay!!!!!!!!

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Slow Motion Slap – Sunday, August 28/05 – 8:27 pm
Cheek exposed: Heather and Shawn plan to attend the 6pm performance of Potentilla, the play Heather is MOST excited to see because it’s this year’s winner of the Intrepid Petri Dish Award.

Hand up: Shawn asks if Heather’d mind if he brought his girlfriend along.

HEATHER: I thought you liked to keep your friends and girlfriend separate?

SHAWN: I do, but girlfriends and girl friends have to meet eventually.

Hand meets Cheek: Shawn and his girlfriend decide they don’t feel like going out, so Shawn calls Heather at 5pm and leaves a message.

FUCKER FUCKER FUCKER. I’m done. And Shawn owes me $8 for his ticket.

Potentilla
It was a great show. Probably one of the only dramas in the Festival . . . afterwards, the guy actor and Meg said the laughter-response from the audience was bizarre each time, because we’d all become “fringified” and there were so many comedies this year that we thought we were supposed to laugh.

Also, pre-show Rod and I were comparing thoughts on Saucy Fops: The Musical and decided that a great theme for Atomic Vaudeville would be Tom Cruise. They could spoof Magnolia’s “Respect the Cock” bit, with Tom and his ponytail; Nicole Kidman & Tom’s awkward sex scene in Eyes Wide Shut; Katie Holmes, the Scientology thing, the ambiguous sexuality thing, Top Gun, the dance scene from Risky Business . . . .

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Day of Non-Fringe – Monday, August 29/05 – 7:58 pm
Today I hate people. I didn’t go to the shows I’d planned on — instead, I had a nappy nap at Q’s after work with Celeste (she had bad dog breath). When Q came home we ordered Chinese food and watched Growing Up Gotti.

I’m listening to some songs I haven’t heard in awhile — I’ve been devoted to Ani DiFranco and Eminem for a very long time. The best voices ever are those of Serena Ryder and Joel Kroeker. In heaven, they will perform together. For now, I will play their songs interchangeably while lolling in a hot bath.

Work Stuff
I have a ridiculous number of vacation and sick days this year. I didn’t think I qualified for vacation days in 2004, since I was technically “on probation,” but apparently I did because I have 50 unused hours (=7 work days) of vacation leftover from 2004, plus 105 hours (=15 work days) of vacation for 2005. I wish I knew what to do with all that time . . . I’d like an ESCAPE to shake things up, but I don’t know where I want to go, or whom with (if anyone), or what I want to do.

What seems most likely (and tempting) is some sort of writing vacation. I wouldn’t have to go anywhere, but I could.

The problem with that is that I DON’T WRITE when that’s all I have to do. A full-time job is ideal because it makes me value my free time more, so I actually do use it to write, and also because it leads to ideas to write about. If I took a week or three off to sit around and write, I wouldn’t get anything done.

Jessie suggested I go to Australia and fall in love with tall blonde men. Q suggested I take the vacation time in pay instead, and then use that $$ for Greece next year, or my student loans, or a nestegg for a house.

But it seems silly to be at work when I’d get paid not to.

This is an excellent “problem” to have . . .

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Oops – Tuesday, August 30/05 – 9:09 pm
When the Q dropped me off at home today he asked me to check and see when the license plates expire, and it was sort of dark out so I wasn’t sure that I was reading it correctly, but I was: July 7/05. So this means that both Q and I have been driving an uninsured vehicle around the city for almost two months. And not only Victoria — we took the car to Vancouver last month.

moment of nausea . . .

Moving the Q
I helped Q pack up for his move into his Owned Home. We’ve packed up his shit a thousand times in the last 6 years . . . I have developed special packing techniques for some of his possessions, like the 5-inch wooden woodpecker with the pointy beak that looks fragile but which HAS NOT YET BEEN BROKEN despite innumerable moves because I am so attentive.

Whiny Stuff
The left side of my mouth is achy today, due (most likely) to the as-yet-unborn wisdom teeth. I hope it goes away by tomorrow, or else I’ll have to swish that nasty warm salt water concoction that the dentist prescribed. Or worse, have surgery.

Crazy About the Bling
A big trigger for my anxiety has always been my bank balance, mainly because I’ve been through times when it was negative or very very very low. I usually just don’t look at the balance after withdrawing/depositing, because I feel panicky regardless of my financial situation. But this summer I found a great way to stave off stress: I stopped paying my bills. As a result, my balance was usually quite high, and it made me feel happy to see all those digits on the bank receipt. But the time has come to BE RESPONSIBLE again, so I paid off a few of the bills today (cell phone and internet). The only predictable bills I HAVE to pay off in a timely fashion (for the sake of my credit rating) are my student loans and credit cards, and rent so that I have somewhere to live. It was surprisingly liberating to let the rest slide . . . only a few hundred dollars per month, but still.

Restless in Rockland
I still feel antsy. Yesterday I considered changing the layout of my apartment . . . today I intentionally walked down a sketchy street in the hope that someone would try to attack me and then I could justifiably beat the shit out of them. I’ve been researching different vacations — Contiki tours to Greece, Goddess spa retreats to Salt Spring Island . . . and it’s raining again here in Victoria. Goddammit. If this is the end of summer (and I think it is) I will have to run away for a week in the winter to somewhere very hot and sunny. I’m solar-powered; Victoria’s weather cycles are unacceptable.