Tag Archives: Liv

September 2005

Moving Day!!!! – September 1/05 – 8 am

Q is moving into his new home today, and I have taken the day off to SLEEP, NOT read the news, and help out by comforting Celeste. Also, it’s sunny which is much better than rain on a moving day.

Hooking Heather Up
A variety of “opportunities” have arisen whereby friends and acquaintances are matchmaking for me. I have a 36 year old tall man and a 23 year old academic in my future . . . and I have a new neighbour, as of last night, who is my age, but I think he’s short. For those who don’t know, I have a standing reward for anyone who finds me a good one — a $100 gift certificate for Bravo’s restaurant, the best food in Victoria. So go forth and add to my Potential Booty List!

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How Many Bunny Rabbits is Too Many? – Friday, Sept. 2/05
Mom & Dad have decided to focus their parental energies on my excessive rabbit population. And to an extent I agree: Seamus and Caramel would be much happier and healthier as house rabbits. BUT it’s difficult to find a home that would give them the freedom and attention that would compensate them for losing their porch haven. Also, Caramel is not littertrained and would require an attentive and forgiving bunny parent.

Just Sos Ya Know, Normal Rabbits Endure the Following:

  • Too-small cages that don’t allow them to jump around, run, tunnel, and exercise properly. If a bunny lives in a cage, they require a minimum of three hours cage-free exercise a day. That’s a lot of supervision.
  • Cages with metal mesh on the bottom, which hurt their feet, and pine shavings (sold by most pet stores as “rabbit” cage shavings), which give them liver & other internal organ problems.
  • A lack of attention. And yes, I do forget about my baby bunnies occasionally, but I check on them at least twice a day (due to their feeding schedule).

Mom’s arguments tend to focus on the porch as wasted space, rabbit-stink, and bunnies as mobility-limiting factors. Once a strong person wanders into my house, I intend to recruit their assistance and get that piss-stained futon couch off my porch. I want to replace it with plastic chairs and a table, and then I can easily clean any mess, and sit and drink tea with the bunnies. It’s shady out there even on the sunniest day, which is ideal for rabbits but not for me . . . the only reason I’d go out there would be to bond with S&C.

As for the rabbit-stink, that’s due to Peter and his litter box, and there’s nothing I can do about that except keep him/it clean, open the doors, and burn some incense. Peter’s worth a little stink.

Goddamn Hootchie Neighbours
The house-owner’s daughter had a party last night. She’s normally very lovely, but a drunken Thursday night screamfest has upset my opinion of her. At 10:30pm I went over, trying to look as harried as possible, and told them I had to work at 6:30am and could they please shut up. I’ve learned, however, that drunken assurances mean shit, and therefore they continued until late. I fell asleep at 11pm or so, but my Dad (who is visiting as of yesterday) was awake when someone authoritative starting yelling and closed down the party. Poor Dad! On a boat for two weeks, and his first land-sleep is distrupted by a bunch of hootchies.

Dad, Visiting
Dad called from Sidney yesterday, where he moored his 22-foot Catalina sailboat (aka a floating Volkwagen). He helped the Q move and bought us Chinese food for dinner, and chatted up the movers and told funny stories about currents and a stick-figure Jesus on Thetis Island. I love my Dad.

Yep
This is a random and scattered little entry today . . . But I’ve been random and scattered lately. Hopefully these notes encompass most of the “significant” stuff from the past 25 hours.

Other stuff includes:

  • email from Vitto saying “saw you at Syn, hi there”;
  • have managed to cut Shawn from my life for a week now, with no significant sense of loss (I have no time for inconsiderate poohs);
  • bought 4 shirts on Wednesday and they made me feel happy, so am tempted to buy into the whole “retail therapy” lifestyle
  • I think Justin has moved to Seattle by now — I’ll have to catch up with Jessie today;
  • my sister is 1cm dilated (???) and the baby has “dropped” (????) and I could be an aunty ANY DAY NOW.

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Dad Returns to the Sea – Sunday, Sept.4/05 – 8:50 am
Dad left for Sidney and his boat, Rorinante, this morning. We had a good visit — lots of intense conversations and the usual. Dad tends to parent like today’s the last day to parent, so he shares all the wisdom and stories he can think of. I love it. It’s exactly the oppositive of those superficial “How are you? Fine” conversations that most people seem to want to have.

Joel Kroeker
We went to see Joel Kroeker play at Logan’s last night. If there is a god, and if god has a voice, he sounds like Joel Kroeker. I LOVE JOEL KROEKER. This was the first time I’ve seen him play with his full band, though, and it was a lot of sound. What’s with bands? They must all be deaf because they turn their bass/guitar/etc volumes up way too loud, the drummer doesn’t bother to muffle his bass, and then I can’t hear a fricking word of the song. Joel’s voice was audible, though, so at least Dad got to hear how good he is. The first singer was Harmony Trow-something — she has an unusual voice so I bought her cd to give it a proper listen when I do dishes today.

“Ramping Up” to Fall Drama
(See how I slipped in that gov’t phrase? Oh, yes. I’m learning.) My neighbour Tim is a hottie. He’s shorter than my usual preference, about 6-feet or something. But he will be a pleasant friend at the very least. He had bunnies once. And it’s so easy to approach neighbours — there are infinite excuses for visits.

Also, my as-yet-unmet-but-recommended-by-friend 36 year old man John called me Friday night and left a message. Hopefully I’ll be able to meet him this week. He sounds like fun.

AND, just so things don’t get too inconsistent, Q and my friend Regan invited us to her Birthday on the 16th. Regan is the older sister of my RockStar, Ryan. While the whole thing feels awkward and unnecessary, it might lead to some interesting stories.

To Be Continued
I will add more later this weekend, but Seven Years in Tibet just started on TV.

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SuperHeather – Monday, Sept. 5/05 – 9:10 pm
I’m trying a new strategy whereby I figure out what pisses me off, then I fix it. Today I bought one of those shoe holders that hang on one side of a door, and so all my smelly shoes are stuck into the pockets and they won’t get all scuffed and grimy and stink up my closet anymore. Also, I managed to disassemble my futon frame tonight: a square-headed screwdriver and some pliers were needed, and my hammer. I felt very tooly. The frame is now in handy 3×4.5-foot chunks, and I can toss them off my porch and into the dumpsters tomorrow. Yay! I plan to get a sweet little plastic or metal patio set — one or two chairs and a wee table for my tea. Then I can snuggle with the bunnies all winter and watch the rain storms.

Updates re: Booty
I went upstairs to invite Neighbour Tim to breakfast/lunch today, but he wasn’t there (or didn’t answer my knock) so that was a failure. However, I did pass him while walking home from Christie’s pub — he was walking with a girl riding her bike. I should expect that he has a girlfriend, to avoid disappointment. Regardless, he smiled hugely at me and he’s clearly in love with me. Fun fun fun.

The 36 year old guy, John, called me — did I already mention this? Anyhoo, he left a message and I haven’t called him back yet. I’ve been bonding with Dad and watching plays and eating. Tomorrow I should send him an email or something.

And re: Mom’s hookup of a 23 year old smartie pants, I haven’t heard anything. So no exciting news there.

Christie’s Pub
The pub is only three blocks or so from Q’s new house. We went there for dinner tonight — Dean’s treat. Dean’s visiting Q from Ottawa before he jaunts off to Lebanon for his work with the foreign service. What a hottie. We walked Celeste on Dallas Road today and gawked at sweaty football players.

Also, I learned how to shampoo a carpet: Q had to clean his bedroom in the old apartment, so I read and interpreted the instructions while the boyz did the work. It’s actually not that tricky. I was inspired to borrow Q’s vacuum, and I might actually attempt to vacuum up all the dust bunnies in this place. Peter HATES the vacuum, though, so I’ll have to do it early in the day; otherwise, he’ll keep me awake all night with his stomping.

Peter Relearns Boundaries
He’s been leaving dainty poops in the area around his food & water dishes and litter box. This means he is claiming it as his territory. However, it is actually MY territory since I pay the rent and have to walk through the mess to get to my drawers, so I’ve moved all of his “survival” stuff* closer together to remind him that his space is limited.

*I specified “survival” stuff because Peter has quite a few personal possessions (“luxuries”) around the house: sticks under most of the furniture, a wicker basket, silk scarf and blankie under the drafting table, a ribbon tied to the desk to suck on, and then of course his de-construction site underneath the couch.

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Laundry Hell – Tuesday, Sept. 6/05 – 9:00 pm
I intended to get all my clothes clean today but because Q’s new laundry washer and drier are the WORST LAUNDRY WASHER AND DRIER EVER, I’m only done 1 load. (Load one of two yellows, of SIX loads in total.)

Load #2 is in the middle of its second time around in the drier. Load #3 is stuck in the washer. Loads #4-6 are stagnating in the hall.

Ugh.

Meanwhile
Celeste wants to play with her tennis ball . . . she loves her new home!!!!!!

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(Exciting Appointment Today – Wednesday, Sept. 7/05
Spencer’s cutting my hair today!!!!!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!!)

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Short Hair & Clean Clothes – Wednesday, Sept. 7/05 – 10:14 pm
I feel like a SuperStar. Except that I have too many clothes and too few hangers, so I will have to invest in some sort of storage container for all my summer shite in order to make room for the sweaters.

Moment of Political Awareness (or not)
Spencer asked me what’s going on with the hurricane Katrina situation down in New Orleans. Since I read all the major newspapers every day I’m usually sort of “in the know” about current news, but when asked to paraphrase I realized that all I’ve really been doing is looking at the crazy, surreal pictures and reading the personal stories and tallying headlines that promote or discourage financial donations.

I wonder if it’s better to be “sort of in the know” about what’s happening, or totally oblivious. I felt a little guilty, not even knowing the exact death count so far. (I think it’s 1,000 but it might be 10,000 — or that might just be a headline I saw from another story . . .)

Also I feel guilty about my secret fetish for all things Apocalyptic. Natural disasters intrigue me, since I’ve never actually experienced one directly. I had to watch myself while talking to Spencer at the salon, to make sure I didn’t smile too much or seem too eager to talk about how terrible it all is — there were other people there, and I didn’t want to offend someone. On September 11 I was giddy and only realized how inappropriate my glee was once Q and I ran into Rachel, who had friends working in the towers.

But it’s true, I’ve always loved books where ALMOST everyone in the world dies, and then a few survive so they have to forage and fend and find some half-assed reason to continue. Ironic, considering that with my terrible eyesight I’d be DOOMED once my corrective eyewear was lost (like Piggy in Lord of the Flies . . .). And being a wee woman there’s rape and all kinds of terrible shit to think of. And my bunnies! They’d be screwed . . .

Everyone has guilty fantasies, though. I suppose mass death and anarchy are relatively mild . . .

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Putting Away My Clothes – Thursday, Sept. 8/05 – 7:11 pm
The saddest part was when I realized that I own two identical pink tanktops and FOUR identical muscle shirts. Apparently my short-term memory problems are more serious than I’d thought.

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Peter’s Birthday – Friday, Sept.9/05
I don’t know exactly when Peter’s birthday is, but I think I adopted him sometime in August/September . . .

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Resolution is a Wonderful Thing – Saturday, Sept.10/05 – 11:31 am
Regan and Ryan (aka my RockStar) came to Victoria to visit their uncle Gordie, who is recuperating from an operation. Q and I met them for lunch, plus their gramma and dad, and it was exactly the scary experience I’d expected — I had no fucking clue what to say or do with Ryan, since I had no fucking clue what was going on, and whether he wanted anything from me other than WriterStyle advice & input. Regardless, I sorta survived that one, and then we went back to work.

After work I went home and slept for a few hours, until Old Man John (my 36 year old potential love-interest) called, and then I had a half-asleep conversation — I think we’re hooking up on Sunday or sometime this week — and then I got up and went downtown to meet Rowan and Regan and Q at the Sticky Wicket for some drinky drinks on the rooftop. (What’s with all these “r” names???)

And then we all taxied to Safeway and picked up bananas and booze (not in that order), and returned to Q’s to frolic with Celeste and Regan/Ryan’s old doggy, Maggie.

Ryan was keeping his gramma company at their hotel until she fell asleep, and then he came to Q’s at 11 and got me and we went for a really long walk ‘n’ talk, and now I feel 100% better.

The Walk ‘n’ Talk
Essentially, Ryan is not in love with me at this time, and that is okay with me because he said so. The uncertainty about everything was making me crazy, but now that loose tooth has fallen out so I can stop obsessing. We walked down to the beach at Dallas Road and grabbed some bonfire that had been abandoned and Ryan played with newspaper and driftwood and I threw rocks to make everything spark. (There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere . . . ) I don’t like the thought of anyone not being madly in love with me, but since I’m not so sure that Ryan can be in love with ANYONE right now (due to craziness, youth, self-obsession, whatever) I’m happy being one of the ones he tried to love.

I know it is entirely up to me whether I want to be friends/allies/confidantes now, and I think that I will be okay with that sort of relationship — that will have to be reevaluated if/when Ryan falls in love with someone, because then I’ll probably be jealous and pissed off. But for now, I love having this beautiful RockStar Writer man in my life. And now I’m emotionally free to fall in love with someone else (damn these monotasking limitations!) so I CAN have it all: love and sex and writerly companionship.

BitterScripts
Last night at some point I figured out the next part of my new play! Usually I jump up (or roll over) and write EVERYTHING DOWN ASAP because I know I’ll forget the idea(s). But I didn’t. And I still remember them, so hopefully the “spark” will still be there too when I write the new scenes and they will still have that MiddleOfTheNightMagic to them.

Today
R&R are visiting their uncle, and Regan wants to take the doggies for a walk, and Celeste is getting her hair cut this afternoon, and in theory we are having a Mortgages Are Fun housewarming BBQ at Q’s. I’m not entirely sure if that will happen – it’s really just an excuse to get together with some of the people Q&I haven’t seen lately.

Tonight Jessie and I are going to a Crazy Mad Singles’ Party to hook up with hootchie men. More on that tomorrow, I suppose 🙂

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Old People Parties – Sunday, Sept.11/05 – 10:57 am
Jessie pointed out that old people (i.e. ages 30+) still like to get together and drink and have a party. When we’re old, we’ll probably do that too. But I won’t want angstful 20-somethings there!

In other words, Jessie & Justin & Jess (“J” names!!!!) and I went to Karen’s party last night, which was supposed to be a singles’ thing but which her man apparently thought was a housewarming, so he’d invited all his old couple friends & coworkers (employees, to be exact) and Karen had invited us. Regardless, it was a good night. Karen & her man Stacy (haha) have this beautiful, crazy-grown-up condo/townhouse/strata/whatever thing on her parent’s development property. It’s THREE STORIES, with a massive walk-in closet in the master bedroom, and a 2-person jacuzzi tub, and it’s just beautiful. I thought she was having a party while her parents were out of town, but no, it’s all hers. Craziness.

I found out when leaving that the old people couples were Stacy’s employees, and that they were all nervous because he was their boss (he’s the CEO at a consulting firm or something); with this in mind, I will say that I slapped his ass at one point, and that my new woman-friend Erica and I rearranged all his CDs and books in Random Acts of Terrorism. Stacy keeps his CDs arranged alphabetically (and there are probably 2,000 of them), and his books are arranged in colour. (Yes, colour. How ridiculous is that????) I assume we’ll be the first on his invite list in the future 🙂

Final R&R Weekend Update
I walked up to Q’s Saturday morning because I was done drinking tea and bored of waiting for him to get ready. Lucky thing too, because I got there about 5 minutes before Regan & Ryan & Maggie left for the ferry, ahead of schedule. Over the summer I’ve accumulated about 4 books (and the second trilogy of the Griffin & Sabine series) for Ryan. I finally got to give them to him, so now there’s that much less clutter in my house, and I won’t have to mail them or anything.

Books include:
Unless, by Carol Shields, because it’s brilliant and Sara Cassidy (her daughter) is producing a play version in late October that I want to see.

Nine Knives (or is it 15??) by Mark Jarman, because he’s a modern-day Kerouac and also the editor of one of the lit magazines I suggested to Ryan — The Fiddlehead.

Generation X, by Douglas Coupland, which I think sucks but it’s a staple of any “generational identity” literary collection, along with Kerouac, etc.

The Griffin & Sabine Morning Star Trilogy, because it’s the perfect example of art+story. Luckily, Ryan has the first three.

Next weekend is Regan’s birthday, and Q&I are going to Richmond to celebrate. I’m no longer dreading it. Yay!

Today’s Forecast
J&J&J invited me for breakfast this morning, but I want to have some time to drink tea & contemplate Peter & maybe write my new scene(s). Q has a spa day today — it started 15 minutes ago, actually. It’s my birthday gift to him, which he’s been saving for after his move. Includes: spa bath, 1 hour massage, facial, pedicure, lunch . . .

Also I managed to cut the nails on Peter’s front left hoof this morning. He hated it. And I got bunny hair all over my shirt.

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Welcome Back, Kotter – Monday, Sept.12/05 – 8:55 pm
Back in highschool I LOVED this show. And yesterday I saw some ad on tv that the series was going to be run again, and today I was so excited that I actually tried to find the time & channel online. No luck. And THEN I flipped through some channels tonight after dinner, and whadyaknow, there it was, about to start, the pilot episode.

Fate.

Let’s Talk About Love
I’m starting to suspect that my definition of “love” is different from some of YOUR definitions. So let’s be clear.

“Love” for me is a whole spectrum of stuff. I love Johnny Depp because he is brave enough to be an actor instead of a celebrity in his movies (unlike Leonardo DiCaprio, for example, who is always Leonardo DiCaprio). I love Joel Kroeker because he shines light out through his crazy beautiful voice. I love my RockStar because of his aesthetics (art, music, writing). I love Levi MacDougall because of how he sees the world. I love Ani DiFranco because she thinks everything’s screwed up and also she knows that she’s not the answer to that problem. I love Good People, by which I mean people who have good hearts, who want to create beautiful things, who will never intentionally be cruel or hurtful (although sometimes these people have the urge to hurt or be cruel, just like most poeple, and they are often so overcome with guilt that they feel like they have to atone for what they haven’t done).

Sometimes I “love” someone because I am so attracted to their Good Personness and Light and Beautiful Created Things. And sometimes I want to be veryveryveryclose to them, have sex with them, or just hug them so that I can have some of that beautiful energy too. (And give them some of mine.)

I suspect that when I say I “love” someone, some of you interpret that in other ways. And this has fucked up a lot of possibilities. Because for other people “love” means something very fixed and restrictive, or something else unpleasant.

Anyhoo, I’m going to try and be more careful about using that verb. Which I (ever righteous) think is sad, because why shouldn’t “love” be a daily explanation for our relationships?

Also, I Hit On a Crazy Man
Ohmigod. I was in the sunshine on Starbucks’ patio yesterday, revising my scripts for my MFA application, killing time between brunch with Jessie & co. and sushi with Liv (why does our bonding always revolve around food????) and there was this BEAUTIFUL sexy hottie at a table. He was really tall. 6’4″, maybe. Yum. And when he went into Starbucks to get his coffee I went over to the other guys sitting there and asked if I could sit with them and listen to their mantalk, and they invited me, and so I sat down and talked for an hour or so with these 2 guys from Oregon and the Hottie, who just moved to Victoria from Saskatchewan. I thought I’d won the goddamn lottery — beautiful tall man, right off the boat . . . (or the TransCanada).

And this guy was promising. He’s an artist — he paints stuff. And very smiley, and talkative, and funny, and smart (aka huge vocabulary). So I almost fell in love (see above), but then he went crazy. Specifically, he spontaneously composed and recited a poem to a birdy, and then kept interupting my Oregon conversations to talk about how he was the subject of an intervention, and how he was institutionalised, and then I lent him my notebook because he wanted to write me a poem and ALLOFASUDDEN he started reading this poem to us while we were talking. Clearly a youngest child, clearly a total nutter.

And yes, I confess that I was internally measuring how willing I’d be to ignore his BLATANT SOCIOPATHIC TENDENCIES since he was so fricking pretty. But eventually I left. So you can all relax.

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Exhausted & Infectious – Tuesday, Sept.13/05 – 9:25 pm
Now that the legislature is back in session I’m working from 6am to 2pm, Monday to Friday. This isn’t a huge difference in work hours, but I’ve been tired lately regardless. I get home, and I have a hot shower, and I fall asleep. Hopefully my body will eventually adjust and I’ll be able to be productive outside of the office.

Also, my right eye is all pink & weird, and so I went to the optometrist today and he said it’s the beginning of an eye infection, due to wearing my contacts too much. I’ve had contact lenses since I was 8 (really) and apparently this newfound intolerance is due to me getting older. So I’m going to wear my glasses to work more often, and I have some potent eye drops to use for now.

My MFA Application
I haven’t been too worried about the cover letter, the resume, or the stage play sections, but I can’t remember most of my fiction from UVic. I browsed through my portfolios today from all five years of English Lit & creative writing projects, and there are a few good stories that I think are not only worth submitting, but also worth revising at some point. I love reading something, thinking “wow, this is really good,” and half-knowing that I’m the one that wrote it. Hehe.

Anyone Want a Rabbit-Piss-Stained Futon?
The garbage people won’t take it, and I’d rather not pay the junk guy to remove it. I’m considering borrowing one of the grocery carts that are scattered around town and trucking it to the closest dumpster. It will be SO lovely to have it gone . . .

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Branding – Thursday, Sept.15/05
Okay, so: back in the day (aka “old school” style) businesses advertised their services/products, and were known as such. For example, the hardward store sold hardware and was known as the hardware store. The grocery store sold groceries. This is still true for some businesses — including those in smaller towns that have so far resisted “big box” stores and the usual franchises (e.g. McDonalds).

But NOW businesses are starting to develop themselves as brands. For example: Starbucks is Starbucks. Technically, they started selling coffee, but it’s not ridiculous for them to also develop and sell, say, board games (Cranium!!) because those products are part of the Starbucks brand, or lifestyle, or . . . State of Being. Ditto “the grocery store”: they opened florist areas, and bakeries, and a deli, and a fish market, and had a space for the Bank of Montreal, and you could essentially do all the errands you had to in that one huge space. Now there are even Starbucks inside urban Safeways. Ditto for Chapters. I mean, what EXACTLY does Walmart sell? It doesn’t have a specific product. It’s a LIFESTYLE, a STATE OF BEING: you go to Walmart. You don’t go to Walmart to get a specific item, like you go to the old-school hardware stores to get a 2×4.

Anyways, that’s what I realized this morning. I probably could have had the epiphany years earlier if I’d taken an single economics or business course at UVic. Maybe that’s the whole point of universities: to present a student with prepackaged Epiphanies For Dummies so we don’t have to figure them out for ourselves. Interesting implications . . .

In Other News: I Am Amazing
Dad helped me get my rabbit-piss-steeped futon mattress off of the balcony and out to the trash, but the garbage people refused to take it away. Bastards. So I was almost resigned to calling a private hauler and paying $40, but THEN while walking home yesterday I realized that there are DUMPSTERS everywhere (aha!) and that if I could get the futon to one of those dumpsters then all would be well. However, Q refused to let the disgusting mattress into his car, and I couldn’t find a handy shopping cart on my walk home, so I convinced the Q to put the mattress on top of the VW and then we could slowly transport it to the closest dumpster.

Quinn has no sense of sneakiness, though, because he refused to turn his headlights off when we were behind the targetted apartment building, AND he even had the radio on pretty loudly. Regardless of his OBVIOUSNESS, we managed to ditch the stinky beast in a dumpster, and sped off without anyone chasing us. If they managed to get his license number, I refuse to accept any responsibility.

And THEN Q went home to watch the finale of Canadian Idol, and I carried the three major sections of the futon couch/bed frame to two different dumpsters — the first one wasn’t big enough and it stuck out so I avoided that for the next two sections.

Oh, and did I mention that I am AMAZING??? My balcony/porch/whatever is now empty except for Seamus & Caramel’s two-storey cage, some milkcrates for their amusement, and two black metal chairs. No straw, no hay, and no pissy futon.

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Going to Van Fer a Party – Friday, Sept.16/05
It’s Regan’s birthday sometime around now — maybe even today!!!!!! So Q and Celeste and I are catching the 5pm ferry and spending some quality time in Richmond this weekend. Peter will be upset. He’s been extremely affectionate lately and I think he desperately needs a snuggle and nose-pet.

Yesterday after work I went to Syn with Jessie & Karen and we drank numerous martinis: Cosmopolisyn, Original Syn . . . also I tried their new 4 course entree option, with steak & Caesar salad & mashed taters & veggies & tapas & turtle pie. I could NOT eat it all. Luckily Jessie & Karen are weak for tapas & turtle pie. I felt like I was living in a small town again yesterday. The Chapters staff know me, since I worked there for a month two summers ago & I’m friends with Liv & I was Prof. Trelawny at the Harry Potter Launch Party & because I’m in there almost every day. So I made nice talk with all the salespeople and cashiers, and then at Syn I know the manager & most of the servers (due to being a frequent customer and a vocal feedback-giver). It was like Invermere all over again.

Eye Update
Since I’m sure you’re all very concerned about my health, let me assure you that my eye is a lot better, due to rampant glasses-wearing this week and frequent eye-drop applications. There’s a little bit of red left by the iris, and my eyes seem to get dry quickly when I do wear my contact lenses, but I think an emergency has been avoided. Damn this stuffy office space and hidden asbestos and early morning work hours!! This is NOT conducive to happy eye health.

Giddy About Atomic Vaudeville
Atomic Vaudeville’s theme this month is “The Gayest Show Ever.” We’ve invited Karen to attend for the first time, and us regulars are VERY excited about the possible skits. Also, I don’t have to work on Friday, September 30, so I can stay up late on Thursday and drink my ears off and not worry about 5am alarm clocks. YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!

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Loud Keyboard – Saturday, Sept.17/05 – 10:56am
House still asleep after loud Christian campers sleepover last night — us older people recuperating from 3:30am comp. games — going to read a book now.

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Apparently Prayer Works – Monday, Sept. 19/05 – 5:56 am
Or I can control the weather. I was walking to work and just as I passed under a bus shelter it started to rain, and I still had 10 minutes or so of open-air walking, and I muttered, Heather-like, “Don’t rain, please don’t rain” because my red umbrella is at work and I forgot my blue umbrella in Q’s car, and it sprinkled for a few blocks and then stopped. I’m like Storm from the X-Men.

How can I do anything that isn’t “Heather-like”????

I was a bad little writer this weekend as far as website updates go, but I got a fair bit of editing & thinking done on my fiction portfolio (for my MFA application). Also, the keyboard at R&R Flowers’s house is noisy (see above) so I wasn’t inclined to write anything when I woke up earlier than everyone else on Saturday. And Sunday we were too busy IKEAing and eating at IHOP. I love IHOP. Never been there before this weekend, but after 1 breakfast and 1 lunch and 1 extremely attractive man paying his bill at the till, I’m an IHOP groupie.

Weekend Run-down
Friday: ferried to Vancouver on the 5pm sailing in the Elite $7 for all-you-can-eat baked goods & hot beverages Quiet People Only Lounge. Nicole Barnett was there — I didn’t tell her about my nightmare wherein she waxed my eyebrows into girly pencil-lines. Ate custard danishes and drank tea and did Suduko puzzles.

Drove to Regan’s. Went to a Ukranian soup kitchen and ate cabbage rolls with Regan, Q, and Sarah from Chilliwack. Scored free drinks from the bartender. Returned to find Ryan & co. were hosting a sleepover for “at-risk” Christian camp pre-teens. We are old and uncool and alcoholics so we drank silently in the den out of coffee cups & watched Jimmy Fallon in Fever Pitch (decent movie). Went to bed; woke up sporadically due to adolescent exhuberance downstairs.

Saturday: I was awake at 10:30 am, unlike everyone else. Pre-teens sprawled everywhere foiled my plan to Suduko on the couch. Showered and took Celeste to the backyard until everyone else woke up. Stole bacon from Christian children’s breakfast buffet. Went to IHOP #1 with Regan, Q, and Sarah. Lusted after sexy man paying at the till. Ate eggs & bacon & sourdough toast. Zombied through shopping mall & Costco for party supplies. Bought brown skirt, excellent necklace @ mall, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy DVD at Costco. Returned to R&R’s. Napped for 1 hour. Dressed in new stuff, made pizza, tried to be pleasant and not too embarassing with guests.

Sunday: SLEPT REALLY REALLY WELL (due to Wild Vines blackberry “merlot”??) then got up and etc. Went to IHOP & IKEA (in love with both franchises). Ate cheesy philly steak sandwich & onion rings that left a puddle of grease on my plate. Bought random shit, including a patio table to hold my teapot & bamboo blinds to replace the ratty pink things leftover from the last tenant of my suite. Then: the 6pm ferry (crappy Queen of Saanich) and Wendy’s for a burger and home. The bunnies survived the weekend; I have new toys to play with from IKEA; all is well.

Chewing the Fat
I bitched to Q at one point about my sore hand, and he asked what the red marks were, and I said nothing relevant, and he asked if they were bite marks, and I confessed, and he asked when I’d made them, and I said Saturday night, and he scolded me, and I said “but why does my hand hurt?” and he said I’d probably bruised the muscle or something, which makes sense. But I really didn’t think the hurt would last beyond that initial bite, so new thing learned: I can actually damage myself! Whodathunkit! I thought I was like a snake, how they are immune to their own venom. Felt like a wanker as a result.

Oh, and Tupperware
I exploited an exceptional deal courtesy of a TupperWare flyer misprint, and now own a sexy set of FridgeSmart containers. Brenda delivered them on Friday, along with some of the stuff leftover from the play last year — including a lazy Susan (one of those spinning trays) which will be IDEAL for when I have tea. Yay TupperWare!

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Jason Lee on TV – Tuesday, Sept.20/05
Ohmigod.

Buying Bouquets & Budgeting
I was gloomy and bored and restless (but in an apathetic way) yesterday. Oh, poor me.

But then I had an “e-conversation” with Old Man John, who seems really great, and I bought myself a huge bouquet of primary-coloured flowers (including those long green things with the bright petals — freesia?? I have no fricking clue) and some smoked salmon (thinking of Dad), and wandered home to set up my new bunny-porch patio set, wash the new TupperWare, and watch my Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy DVD. Basically, I kept busy and didn’t nap. Also, I ate good food. And listened to Ani DiFranco’s “Not a Pretty Girl,” the best song ever.

I am determined to go away this winter to somewhere sunny. But I don’t know how I should pay for it. I have always been impressed with Q’s ability to understand abstract concepts like “annual interest” and “prime + 2.5%” and so I sat down, sorted through six months of paperwork, and deduced the following:

  • I had three student loans, but paid one off this year. Now I have two student loans, plus one bank loan from my unemployed phase.
  • In total, I pay three payments per month: $216, $78 and $530.
  • The “annual interest rates” are “prime + 2.5%” for the first two payments, and “prime + 4.25%” for the third. So that makes sense to pay lots to that last one each month.
  • Are you bored yet? I am.
  • My credit cards have annual interest rates of 19% and 18.5%. That’s a lot higher than the loan rates, so therefore it’s good to pay those off every month.

So now I’m “in the know” regarding my finances! Yay! I have no idea what to do with this information. Can I do anything to enable a future vacation?? Change loan holders . . .???? Should I pay everything off and be bored for the three-four years that it will take? Should I say FUCK IT and stop paying my student debt and take that cash and blow it on Ouzo in Greece?

Normally, as you know, I resent advice in any form. In this instance, please feel free to share.

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Finally, Some Excitement – Wednesday, Sept.21/05 – 6:29 pm
Work was crazy busy today. One part of my job (about 40%) involves sending out a compilation of ministry-related media coverage twice a day to the ministry’s employees. Usually these packages are about 5 to 10 pages long; today, I sent out three packages, totalling about 70 pages. I love it when it’s busy like this, and I feel like a significant part in the Wheel o’ Communications.

The other day I was checking out this tall guy on the bus, and when he sat down by me and said hi I realized it was Liam, the guy who used to give me free baklava at Eugenes years ago. I gave him my fancy schmancy business card & cell number and told him we should be friends, since I’ve known him longer than almost anyone else in Victoria. So he called me yesterday, and we were going to have tea/whatever today after work, but I worked until 4pm instead of 2pm so I had to cancel. Very disappointing. He’s quite tall.

In other news, either Sister Evy hasn’t had her baby yet, or the family hasn’t bothered to tell me that she has. She’s supposedly due on the 27th, but I suspect that’s just to accomodate Dad’s birthdate.

Tonight Q and I are going to a Rotary Club dinner. Q’s going because he’s a Rotarian; I’m going for the Yorkshire puddings. So I’m all dressed up in some fairly adult clothes, except that this shirt is too short and my belly sticks out when I’m not paying attention. It’ll be gaping after dinner.

And tomorrow will also be busy, I suspect. I hope that I still get Friday off to recuperate from this crazy week, but if it’s this hectic than I might not. Regardless, I intend to FINALLY meet up with Old Man John on Thursday or Friday.

Old Man John
Q says it’s rude of me to call him Old Man John, but he’s new to my story so I’m hoping the epithet will help you remember him. Eventually (if he sticks around) that will change.

The Bunnies
Everyone is extremely happy these days, as far as I can tell. I bought them carrots with tops yesterday, and fresh hay for their litterboxes/fibre intake, and they all have lots of sticks to chew and things to jump onto and space to run around in. My new bamboo blinds are (too) transparent (I’ll have to fix that) so I can see outside during the daytime, and Seamus is always sitting on the rock ledge of the balcony, surveying his bunny kingdom.

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Clean Feet – Friday, Sept.23/05 – 1:47 pm
I don’t work today so I was able to sleep in. Around 10am I drank a pot of tea and did Suduko puzzles on the couch, and then I CLEANED MY APARTMENT! I swept, dusted, washed the floors, and even VACUUMED. The quantity of bunny hair dust bunnies (hee hee) was astounding. So now I can walk around in bare feet without picking up a rabbit’s worth of hair! Yay!

Smooching With Old Man John
I met John last night! Finally! We rendezvoused at Serious Coffee at 4:30pm, and walked to the beach, and drank a bottle of white wine (I even liked it) and talked until the sun went down and it got cold. Then we stopped in at the Beagle Pub, and ordered mussels & salad & nachos (the nachos were my contribution) and John had a Guinness.

From now on I will drop the “Old Man” epithet because, depite being 36, John looks about 29-31-ish. (Except that I was doing the math while almost asleep last night, and John must have been born in 1969 or so — eek. That’s a long time ago!!!!!)

John is a very good looking man. And he smiles & laughs a lot. And he’s smart. And my first thought after meeting him was: “Dammit, he’s gay.”

Q says that men know their sexual orientation by age 36, so it’s very very unlikely that John is gay. Also, he wore black socks with brown shoes. HOWEVER, for someone with my experience, even the POSSIBILITY is frightening. First time, shame on you – second time, shame on me – third time . . . ??

I’m trying to think of the “signs” that I recognized, but it’s become more of a feeling. Stereotypical “signs,” like an affection for refurbished furniture, an appreciation of wine, and quality personal grooming, are not reliable signals.

This is a terrible development. How can I explain to an attractive, intelligent man that I’ll be too worried about him being gay to ever properly relax & enjoy a relationship?

Anyhoo. John smooched me at the Beagle and after he walked me home, and that was EXACTLY what I needed. Although I felt guilty, exploiting his smooches when I wasn’t sure of his sexuality. I don’t know.

I’m going to Q’s tonight for a party of our best friends, most of whom I haven’t seen in awhile. That will be fun. And now I’m off to get dressed in Non-Work Clothes (yay!!!!) and get out of this newly-cleaned house.

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The Leaves are Falling!!!! – Saturday, Sept.24/05 – 10 am
It’s Autumn!!!!! Dammit!!!!!

Jessie Looks Nothing Like Blossom
Rowan and Q and I had dinner last night at Q’s new place. BBQ steaks and salmon, asparagus, baby potatoes, roasted garlic & French bread, mushrooms . . . a feast. Later in the evening, Justin & Jessie & Spencer came over, and we caught up on all the news, and Spencer taunted me with descriptions of the single, tall men whose hair he cut/styled, and Jessie said: Hey, I look exactly like her! and pointed to this infomercial on TV with an actress who looks like Blossom (remember that ’90’s sitcom?). Apparently Jessie’s self-image issues are more serious than we’d thought.

I don’t know if this is a universal human condition, to have such a distorted self-image. Maybe that’s why no one likes their photographs.

Jessie and I have diagnosed part of her “issue”: her Barbie dolls were always naked, while mine were always clothed. Barbie’s ridiculous dimensions (when naked) were designed to accomodate the thickness of her clothing’s material — they can scale down the human figure into doll scale, but you can’t scale down material. So my Barbies’ bodies looked not much different than the women in real life — or at least, the ones on TV (ha!) — while Jessie’s Barbies just trumpeted: Big Boobs, Skinny Waist, Disproportiate Bodies Are Fun And Beautiful!

As For John
Q says I’ve become paranoid, and that if I screw up this possibility due to an unsubstantiated fear of history repeating itself then he will NEVER AGAIN be sympathetic to my whining re: no available men in Victoria.

Also, I really liked the smooching.

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Oh, And Also – Sunday, Sept.25/05 – 10:32 am
I ran into the Crazy Beautiful Man from Starbucks Friday while walking with Celeste on Dallas Road’s doggy route. He has “Bell” tattooed on his very hairy tummy.

More to come later, but I rented High Fidelity and that’s first.

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Ughy Day – Sunday, Sept.25/05 – 8:19 pm
I was ridiculously happy this morning, cuddled on my couch watching High Fidelity, drinking tea and listening to Peter terrorize a bundle of sticks under the couch. And then, somewhere between visits to Sears and Canadian Tire, I got icky and grumpy and blahy. Mood swings suck.

Q’s dad and stepmom bought Q a BBQ for a housewarming present. Due to my extensive experience with lego kits during my youth, I am the resident assembler: and it looks wonderful. It required a few strategic hammer-whacks to get everything to fit properly, but I suspect that was intentional — makes the male BBQer feel more manly. It was great for my passive aggressive rage.

Q and I had invited Andrew & his woman Claire over for dinner tonight, but I was so blahy that I could only envision an evening of heavy sighs and self-pity, so we postponed for some other time when I’ll presumably be amusing and perky. I miss Andrew — it will be good to have a bond over wine & salmon sometime soon.

Someone’s in Trouble
Or maybe this is my own fault — feel free to condemn me via the comments feature. John hasn’t called since our smoochie date Thursday, and since I know he left me in a chipper mood I strongly suspect that SOMEONE (Mark!!!) has told him about my website and that he’s read my “Old Man John is Probably Gay” entries and he’s run off.

So, question: was it wrong of me to post those thoughts, considering the mandate of this site? My disclaimer (I always have a disclaimer on hand) is that I NEVER told him about this site. And that I said nice things about him, even considering the emotional baggage I have re: potential love interests being gay. John doesn’t know my epic history of boyfriends/closeted ‘mos, so he’s missing some essential context.

Anyhoo. I feel badly.

High Fidelity
Good movie.

I also rented Alive (filmed in the Purcells near Invermere — my Dad worked on the set up at Panorama) and Coffee & Cigarettes, a token artsy thing. Sometimes I find token artsy things too wordy, but sometimes they also make me think, and I enjoy the subtle touches (e.g. black and white self-commentary in Woody Allen’s Celebrities).

Google.ca
I can track how visitors find my site, and today/yesterday someone from Australia found me by searching on google with: Simone de Beauvoir “Dean Moriarty.”

First thought: what the hell do de Beauvoir (20th century French feminist) and Dean Moriarty (Kerouac’s protagonist in On the Road) have in common??? Other than that they’re both mentioned in my play. I can’t believe someone would search for that.

Second thought: my soulmate lives in Australia. I hope he’s a suitable love match.

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Busy Busy Busy – Monday, Sept.26/05 – lunchtime
Whew! It’s crazy busy at work today. I’ve been running around (computer/internet speaking) since 5:45am. Thank god I have a loaf of bread & some food stuff here at work!

In Other News
I have no idea what it’s like outside. It was chilly this morning (7:41am or thereabouts when I ventured out to fetch our daily newspapers). I’m wearing my new ugly green sweater & sexy pinstripe pants today, purchased from Old Navy this weekend. I was very grateful for the sweater, what with the FREEZING BLIZZARD CONDITIONS outside. Or something.

I’m sleepy (as usual) and will appreciate my nap this afternoon. Also, I still have Alive and Coffee and Cigarettes to watch this week.

I’m mainly bothering to update this because John emailed me this morning asking if I wanted to play this week. So I’ve somehow avoided offending him — assuming that he read this site at all . . . to prevent further emergencies, I’ll tell him about my ‘mo paranoia asap. I prefer to have everyone “in the know” about what’s going on with me — otherwise I forget who doesn’t know what and everything gets complicated.

Timely Doubts?
Q suggested that maybe this website isn’t such a clever idea. I’m posting personal information on here, and it would be easy for someone to abuse that insight. My argument, however, is that I don’t really give a shit about what anyone might think of this stuff. We’re practicing for when my work is in bookstores and on stage: I will tell everyone all my secrets, and if I know yours then yours might also come out (indirectly, I hope — I would never intentionally betray any of you). We’re rehearsing a sort of awkward, embarassing honesty. Isn’t this fun?

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Holy Fricking Christ – Monday, Sept.26/05 – 7:49 pm
Coffee & Cigarettes is utterly bizarre. Also, I love Tom Waits.

Moment o’ Bliss
I had a pot of Lipton Yellow Bag & sugar & milk & my favourite little tea set, and I had my fleecy sweatpants on, and I was watching a movie.

Is there anyone in this world who could possibly improve that environment with their company? It’s one of my favourite ways to spend time, and I have NEVER met anyone who could make it even more pleasurable.

Drowning Our Sorrows in Sushi
Liv and I are sushi-ing tomorrow! Yay!!!!

And on Thursday we have a HUGE group for Atomic Vaudeville. Regulars so far include: Liv, me, Jessie, Q, Spencer. First-time guests include: Trevor (via Liv), Karen (via Jessie), and maybe John (via me). Fun fun fun fun fun fun fun!

For any of you Victoria readers, you’re welcome to join us, or just go and watch the show. It’s Wednesday and Thursday nights at 1514 Broad Street (the Event Centre). Doors at 7:30pm, show at 8pm, cover is $12 or so. Cash bar . . . the theme this month is “The Gayest Show Ever”!!!!

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Wonderfully Sore Legs – Wednesday, Sept.28/05
It’s wonderful because I ran like a crazy thing yesterday. Yay for me! I haven’t run around the block in months — my excuse was the summer heat — and despite being ridiculously out of shape I still managed to run my FULL LOOP, switchbacking around blocks to make the distance longer. I am amazing.

Other Weird Adventures
When getting dressed Tuesday morning I couldn’t figure out how to wear a long blouse thing with my skirt, since the skirt has a belt that gets tied up in the front and there would be a bulge under the blouse from the knot. THEN I realized that I could tuck in the blouse, and it wouldn’t look ridiculously strange because I was wearing another shirt overtop.

Anyhoo, to paraphrase: I (re)invented tucking in shirts. I haven’t tucked in a shirt since I was 15. It was liberating.

And also, after doing a load of laundry (my undies and some work socks) and running around the block and watching the taped episodes of Medium and CSI: Miami from Monday night and eating a Swiss cheese & sprout sandwich I was EXHAUSTED so I went to bed for a nappy nap. At 6:30pm. And then I woke up this morning when my alarm went off at 5:15am.

Belated September 27th Celebrations
If I hadn’t fallen asleep so early, I would have made a pretty, multi-coloured capital letters headline at the top of this page, which would have said:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!!! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MOM & DAD!!!!

But since I fell asleep it’s now only a silly black-font wish. Nonetheless, I was thinking of them yesterday, and I sent Daddy an e-Card with an e-Song, and I wrote some emails to let them know I was thinking of them and loving them long-distance yesterday. So I’m still a good daughter.

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I’M AN AUNTY!!! – Friday, Sept.30/05
From Mom and Dad:

Jared and Evy had their baby boy tonight at 9:08pm.
Thus far he is nameless. He is beautiful. Weighs 7 pounds 14 ounces
and is LONG!
from a relieved and happy granny and grandpa
Ginny & Bob

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.