absinthe makes you a whore

um, hi, i'm back, because apparently people still check this thing (yay for bex and matrix-steve!)
sometimes hiat-i are good. (as opposed to hiatuses or hiatus' or hiatus's)
saw kasabian last night (front and centre - HUZZAH!) and it was the most rabunctious show i've been to in a long time. too many boys (can you believe i'm saying that?) all drunk, spastic and pointy-elbowed; twas a blast though, with no major injuries, no accidental stone-age like the last time we saw them ("brandy, where's your house?" "i dunno. over there maybe?" "brandy, where's the road?" "hahahahaha - dude i think we're stoned.") although i did get a whole pint of beer spilled down my back so i smelled like stale beer for the rest of the show. sorta better than the man-sweat though. candi-arse, my co-conspirator, sadly had to (attempt to) leave the mosh pit almost immediately after kasabian hit the stage (at 11 flurking pm!) but didn't quite make it out of the sea of drunktards before she passed out cold. don't worry though, it's not the first time and she was rescued by a bouncer and the bass player from the opening act. i however, held my ground and remained at the front for the whole fabulously-fantastic, sweaty-squishy and totally exhilerating performance. serge got his groove on during processed beats and it was like the best thing ever. totally awesome motherfu*kers indeed! the openers were ok; one thousand pictures (?) from san diego - before the show the lead singer was styled like a liam gallagher wannabe, but magically transformed into a killers-lead-singer double. ha. and the second band, mew, from copenhagen should not have gone on before kasabian, well maybe shouldn't have gone on at all because they were scary-weird to see perform (not to mention the nightmare-inducing images playing on a screen behind them) but their music was actually good. and candice's observation about the singer being autistic (no offence) was very accurate. plus one of the guitarists had his 95-year-old great aunt in the audience. she actually waited in line (she could barely walk) with everyone; coolest great-aunt ever!
but ugh, now i'm suffering from a post-concert hangover, wired from excitment, stiff and SO sleepy from little sleep. (actually my biggest complaint is itchy eyeballs; i couldn't close my eyes when i got home because it felt like there was sandpaper under my lids.) it's nice to know that i'm still capable of lasting through a show like that, even though the bouncers didn't ask for my id when i went in. i truely fear the day when i can't handle four hours of standing/flailing in a mosh pit!
things that have happened in the last two months:
- got my hair cut again; the girl who did it last time hath vanished and i was not impressed with the old woman who did it this time and told me i should "clean my eyebrows". i'm thinking of investing in a hair-straightener
- house was cleaned, baked a rum cake, wore a dress older than me, drank rum, had a pirate-party, house got cleaned again
- found a movie online (23) that i've been talking about for 8 years (when i saw it at tiff); it has only ever been released in germany with no english subtitles so guess what! someone made some so i can watch it again!
- saw four movies at tiff: paris j'taime (vincenzo natali is a disgrace to canada), falkenberg farewell, requiem (directed by same guy who did 23), and summer '04
- spent not enough time at erik's cottage and went to the elmvale zoo! (i ♥ lemurs)
- hit like 35,000 words on my trashy novella
- watched four seasons of monarch of the glen, two season of QAF and all three seasons of arreseted development
- worked like 40 hours of overtime
- blew some of the cash-ola made in overtime on new speakers and two swatches



and maybe other stuff i'll remember later...

call me bitch-ums...

i'm complainy.

no water at work for the last three four hours, meaning no coffee, no bathroom, no a/c and most importantly, no water! i was planning on getting my hair cut again - shock, shock, horror, horror - but the chick who cut it so perfectly last time has disappeared from the salon and they won't tell me where she went. yes, i'm a baby - i'm not sure i can go through with another experiment on my hair. i pre-ordered poppy brite's (my like, favorite author) new book so that i'd get it the day it came out (tues. the 25th) but of course amazon.ca doesn't have any copies or is slow to get them, so i won't get it for another week or two. bastards. and oh woe, i can't seem to find enough time to finish the short story, novella, (um shit, at what point does it become a novel?) i'm obsessed with. (hence the lack of blog lately...)

note to self: be wary of strangers.

so i'm walking down my street and i run into chris, (who's leaving to cat sit the neediest cats on the planet with the exception of superweasel) so we stop to chat a bit. at some point i notice a big black guy walking down the sidewalk towards us. so what, right? when he gets maybe 8 feet away he says "excuse me" and silly me looks at him because i think he's going to ask me the time or something, i dunno. he actually meant "getdafuckouttamyway" as he's planning on continuing his path straight down the middle of the sidewalk and as i lean (clearly not enough) to one side he kicks me, hard, on the side of the foot. (way to perpetuate black stereotypes loser) i was shocked to say the least, and again my (not-thinking) reaction is to say "sorry" outloud which only causes him to turn around (still walking away praise jeebus) and say something like "next time i see you it'll be your (expletive?) face!" then chris gives me a don't say anymore look (not that i'm bloody likely too cause hello, people who kick you may carry guns too) and he keeps walking down the street. we kinda watched him (me outta fear) because he kept looking back at us and when he got near the end of the block he gave us (well me obviously) the finger. it occured to me that if my brother had been there he woulda kicked his ass, so it's probably a good thing he wasn't! i really hate feeling afraid, especially to walk down my own street, but by tomorrow it will be forgotten. there's a reason i don't watch the news. upon returning home i remembered that when i came out of the subway station people were trying to give me flyers for black history month. funny that.

rocky met his match

so it's dark and i'm walking down my street and when i get near my house i see a cat climbing the telephone pole which isn't very strange because this cat is likely the same one who is quite apt at climbing up onto our balcony and howling through our screen door and besides, i have seen him up the pole before only now that i'm a bit closer i see that this time it's not a cat at all, it's a cute moderately-sized in relation to the terribly fat one that is served dinner every night on our neighbours porch, raccoon climbing the pole, but now i'm closer and when i look up there are five, FIVE raccoons all staring down at me and i truly cursed myself for not having a camera :(

the season finale of doctor who hath killed me. dead. so dead in fact, i may not be able to watch series 3 without dying just a little bit more.

frinky friday

sigh...

Huzzah!

If I had a camera right now I'd take a picture of my desk - looks like a recycling-bin-bomb hit, and for all I know there's something living underneath all this clutter! Besides, I think the avalanche of papers and sticky notes makes me look busier, and the more frantically overloaded with work you appear, the less that gets dumped on you. Ha. But don't think I don't work - I'm just selective about it. I'm bracing myself for the blast of work that is will come when we switch our membership/accounting/everything system. Maybe this one will actually work.

Yesterday morning the ritual director told me about taking his family to the gay pride parade and how much fun they had. He was all hushed and secretive about it, even though no one else was here yet, which leads me to believe that he thinks either a) i'm a lesbian b) i live downtown and therefore know about stuff that happens south of bloor or c) i'm way cooler than everyone else here. Hopefully it's c), cause it's so true it hurts! Ha! I'm really not sure where the whole gay thing sits with a conservative synagogue, but he did dress up in drag at Purim last year...twas a sight!

This is all like, blog catch-up I guess. On Friday I was going to blog about how disgusting our lower neighbours are (after picking up their stinking trash that was all over the driveway, mostly because another neighbour complained about it) but I try not to be one to complain too much ;)

Friday after work I was greeting by a grumpy Erik who when I asked what we were doing said 'we're going to Brampton and I I'm going to sleep.' I was like, what? And he was like, 'isn't it enough that I picked you up on time?' When we got to Brampt-hoe Nic WOKE UP, Erik got into bed and we spent an hour or two keeping him awake with conversation best left unrepeated. Nic did relay a funny? wrong? story about a friend of a friend who gave some guy a blow-job and woke up the next morning with a nasty red rash around her mouth. She went to the doctor and a few days later THE POLICE escorted her back to the doctor for her results; it was FORMALDEHYDE around her mouth! Turns out the guy she was with worked at a funeral home, and well, you can figure out the rest. Then Nic and I went girly shopping, sans Erik, because he fell asleep, although he did join us later for dinner at diner which was oh so much fun because I had a blinding headache.

I spent most of the weekend writing the beginnings of something that no you can't read because you lot, well some of you lot, already think I'm strange and twisted and I don't fancy perpetuating that idea any further. Plus my abuse of the English language is astonishing; I like to make up words.

Fuck. Clearly I need more chaos on my desk...