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.