My sister the Goddess has gone out and bought herself a ring. It's gold with stones lining it. She's wearing it on her left hand ring finger. Someone asked her about it the other day when we were leaving mom's apartment, one of mom's neighbours, and my sister simply said "If I had to wait for him to buy it I would be waiting forever. Not that he wouldn't just he can't"
It looks too much like a wedding ring. Her boyfriend is still legally married and the divorce is looking like it will be dragging on for a very long time to come, as his ex (can I call her ex if the divorce is not final?) is putting up a massive fight.
The more I get to know this guy, the less like a bad guy he seems; and my sister is really happy for the first time in her life.
But you know what I really hate about the whole thing, and it's a selfish thing; my sister is 8 years younger then me and she's got the solid relationship, the fabulous apartment, the great career and the wicked group of friends. YOUNGER then me. And here I am still struggling. Still single, still living in the same shabby run down apartment that was my first apartment.
I got a texted last night from Darius, whom I haven't really heard from since the week of the wrestling. The texted simply said "U still alive?" I messaged back saying I was and he texted back asking what I've been up to. My answer was busy with stuff and pissing off Mr. S.
Darius never bothered to message me back. I don't know when the shift happened, but Darius who used to be the one always saying that Mr. S likes me, has become very snappy and even angry towards Mr. S.
Mel says Darius is jealous.
Speaking of Mel, he and I were talking about a bunch of things and I jokingly said "maybe Mr. S is shy." Mel quickly jumped in saying that he knows Mr. S is shy, that it's obvious when he does interviews. I have never thought of Mr. S as shy before, but going back over old interviews from the last two years, I can see it now.
And the pissing off Mr. S part, well, my last post I talked about a blog post Mr. S had done that was as if it was a continuation of one of mine. I did a long blog post on my Domestic and Damned blog few days ago talking about that whole issue, then took a slice of his post from a few weeks back and did my own spin on it as part of a short story.
Just to see what kind of reaction I will get out of him.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I hurt my ribs
I have been laughing like a lunatic for the last half hour. Mr. S. just posted for the first time in over two weeks on the official blog. And I am laughing about it why?
Just over 2 weeks ago I posted on my Domestic and Damned blog about my personal sense of fashion. Or lack of it depending on your take on things.
That would end up being right before Mr. S. ended up having some time off. Today, the blog post Mr. S. did was all about his choice in fashion.
I was on the phone with my mother when reading it and started to cackle like something out of a wicked witch story for a good ten minutes. The more mom wanted to know what was so funny and me try to read the posts to her, the more I started to laugh. Which is good as I haven't laughed this much in a while.
But, it was as if Mr. S. had just picked up in the middle of one of my sentences and ran with it for over a page.
I admit that part of it was a dig at something I said, and you know what, that's fine. I love it! It just proves he's still reading me.
Though my mother still tells me I'm crazy. She can't seem to understand why Mr. S. would "waste his time reading something you would write. Nothing you care about is of any interest to anyone else."
I envy anyone who's mom actually likes them.
Just over 2 weeks ago I posted on my Domestic and Damned blog about my personal sense of fashion. Or lack of it depending on your take on things.
That would end up being right before Mr. S. ended up having some time off. Today, the blog post Mr. S. did was all about his choice in fashion.
I was on the phone with my mother when reading it and started to cackle like something out of a wicked witch story for a good ten minutes. The more mom wanted to know what was so funny and me try to read the posts to her, the more I started to laugh. Which is good as I haven't laughed this much in a while.
But, it was as if Mr. S. had just picked up in the middle of one of my sentences and ran with it for over a page.
I admit that part of it was a dig at something I said, and you know what, that's fine. I love it! It just proves he's still reading me.
Though my mother still tells me I'm crazy. She can't seem to understand why Mr. S. would "waste his time reading something you would write. Nothing you care about is of any interest to anyone else."
I envy anyone who's mom actually likes them.
Monday, June 14, 2010
EEEEEKKKK!!!
There seems to be something wrong with the last post. I had it on timer but it's been disappearing and reappearing.
Sorry to anyone who might be getting things by email
Sorry to anyone who might be getting things by email
Get over yourself
Remember Jordan the Gay Guy I bumped into him again. I was out of coffee, so I hobbled down to the Tim Hortons at the end of the street. And there he was, sitting at a table right in the corner of the window with his little "pack" of groupies.
"Oh my god! You look tres tres tired. It's so chic very you." JTGG said in his girly squeal. I think I managed a smile. It was meant as a smile, but I confess it might have come off as a snear. There was a time JTGG was one of the closet people in my life, but since he got in with his new group of friends, he's become one of the fakest people around. "Look at you, where have you been hiding? "
Where have I been hiding? I hadn't realized I had been. I got my large double double and turned knowing I would be stuck chatting. I didn't like the way his friend was looking at me. Female friend. For as short as JTGG is, this girl was the opposite. She must have been close to 5'11 and as skinny as a toothpick. Her clothes were hanging off her. She gave me the creeps. Let me just say, that as much as Sex and the City has been a craze here fashion wise, so has Twilight. We have a few guys running around town who could be stand ins for the actor who plays Edward in those movies, as well as half the teenaged female population copying the Bella Swan look. She was a Bella-Wannabe down to the speech pattern. I wish I had gotten photos I really do.
We chatted about my novel for a moment, as I waited for him to mention his "designing" which was all he talked about last time. He said nothing, so I asked. He rolled his eyes and laughed saying that he had been stoned that last day when he talked to me. There's a shocker for ya. But that he was still into it. Then started going on about having seen the movie September Issue the documentary about Vogue's Anna Wintour. (Good movie by the way. ) Then he started picking at my hair. My short little pixie-ish cut hair.
This is where his friend really started to creep me out, and the point to the title of this post. She sat up a little straighter, and started asking me where I lived, that she'd seen me at the Blockbuster a few times. JTGG rolled his eyes at me again and looked over his shoulder at her telling her to not bother.
"She's only into the penis. Penis, penis, penis!"
Now, here I am standing in a small donut shop filled with seniors, the local chapter of the Hell's Angels, a table of giggling teenagers and JTGG's little band of gay friends. I'm a very pale woman, very pale. When I blush it's like a large fuschia stain from the tip of my hairline to the hem of my clothes. And here we were with everyone gaping at us like dead fish while the little gay man screamed the word penis over and over again. And I was trapped standing there for a few more minutes before he finally said he needed to get back to his table.
Now really wishing I gone to the grocery for the coffee instead.
"Oh my god! You look tres tres tired. It's so chic very you." JTGG said in his girly squeal. I think I managed a smile. It was meant as a smile, but I confess it might have come off as a snear. There was a time JTGG was one of the closet people in my life, but since he got in with his new group of friends, he's become one of the fakest people around. "Look at you, where have you been hiding? "
Where have I been hiding? I hadn't realized I had been. I got my large double double and turned knowing I would be stuck chatting. I didn't like the way his friend was looking at me. Female friend. For as short as JTGG is, this girl was the opposite. She must have been close to 5'11 and as skinny as a toothpick. Her clothes were hanging off her. She gave me the creeps. Let me just say, that as much as Sex and the City has been a craze here fashion wise, so has Twilight. We have a few guys running around town who could be stand ins for the actor who plays Edward in those movies, as well as half the teenaged female population copying the Bella Swan look. She was a Bella-Wannabe down to the speech pattern. I wish I had gotten photos I really do.
We chatted about my novel for a moment, as I waited for him to mention his "designing" which was all he talked about last time. He said nothing, so I asked. He rolled his eyes and laughed saying that he had been stoned that last day when he talked to me. There's a shocker for ya. But that he was still into it. Then started going on about having seen the movie September Issue the documentary about Vogue's Anna Wintour. (Good movie by the way. ) Then he started picking at my hair. My short little pixie-ish cut hair.
This is where his friend really started to creep me out, and the point to the title of this post. She sat up a little straighter, and started asking me where I lived, that she'd seen me at the Blockbuster a few times. JTGG rolled his eyes at me again and looked over his shoulder at her telling her to not bother.
"She's only into the penis. Penis, penis, penis!"
Now, here I am standing in a small donut shop filled with seniors, the local chapter of the Hell's Angels, a table of giggling teenagers and JTGG's little band of gay friends. I'm a very pale woman, very pale. When I blush it's like a large fuschia stain from the tip of my hairline to the hem of my clothes. And here we were with everyone gaping at us like dead fish while the little gay man screamed the word penis over and over again. And I was trapped standing there for a few more minutes before he finally said he needed to get back to his table.
Now really wishing I gone to the grocery for the coffee instead.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Pine Nuts
I used minced garlic, olive oil, brown sugar and pine nuts as my sauce.
Not bad. Was still missing something. Not sure what.
And things were not too horrible, thinking I was finally ready to move on from something, and poof on my main blog I found a comment from the boyfriend of my former Blog Partner. Out of nowhere. I thought they had finally left me alone that they had removed themselves totally from me, but no. I'm still slightly pissed off about it.
I've been ignoring them mostly for the last little while, thinking if I don't reply to his comments he'll go away. No such luck.
I ended up just saying if he hates my point of view, don't read me.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Okay Good to know
My Uncle has been a Chef since I was born. So for the last 36 years he's worked around town in hotel kitchens.
I was talking to him the other day about food, and had asked a question about something (at this point it's actually been over a week and I can't remember what the recipe I was wanting was) and he shrugged saying he'd never heard of it.
Pardon me? What?
I made a couple of more comments and he just laughed and said "What are you asking me for?"
This got me wondering. I started talking about the Leek and Potato soup recipe I had gotten from my friend in Edmonton, and a second way to use Parsnips other then boiling. He had no answers for me.
"Hang on, you mean I know more about food then you do?" He shrugged and said nothing.
I've been dabbling in cooking off and on for a decade, only serious for the last year. How could I know more then him?
My sister the Goddess reminded me that our Uncle works in a hotel 15 hours a day making the same 10 things over and over and over. Uncle cooks for work not for fun. And when he comes home and on his one day off a week, he spends it doing everything BUT in the kitchen.
Kinda sad really.
I was talking to him the other day about food, and had asked a question about something (at this point it's actually been over a week and I can't remember what the recipe I was wanting was) and he shrugged saying he'd never heard of it.
Pardon me? What?
I made a couple of more comments and he just laughed and said "What are you asking me for?"
This got me wondering. I started talking about the Leek and Potato soup recipe I had gotten from my friend in Edmonton, and a second way to use Parsnips other then boiling. He had no answers for me.
"Hang on, you mean I know more about food then you do?" He shrugged and said nothing.
I've been dabbling in cooking off and on for a decade, only serious for the last year. How could I know more then him?
My sister the Goddess reminded me that our Uncle works in a hotel 15 hours a day making the same 10 things over and over and over. Uncle cooks for work not for fun. And when he comes home and on his one day off a week, he spends it doing everything BUT in the kitchen.
Kinda sad really.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I think they turned out
I made poached eggs not too long ago.
They seemed okay, left a mess in my kitchen though.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Did He Just Admit That?
I knew something was not right for the last 24 hours. Something I was sure had to do with Mr. S.
The blog post for this week was up about an hour ago.
Now, for anyone who's been following this, you know I have been teasing for a year about Mr. S's weight. As I believe he's too skinny.
I've blogged about this on my old blog and on the Domestic and Damned blog as well.
Last summer when I started that gimmick, Mr. S. cut a promo where he teased back about all the food he eats.
Well, today's post, Mr S. admits he's got an issue with weight. As in he will starve himself and is anorexic.... I'm just in a daze right now as I type this.
Mel thinks it was a very weird post, and that all my teasing on the blogs have caused him to admit he's got an issue with food and in general his self esteem. This is not good. This is horrible.
I know in the post he started off talking about fans asking him about working out, but he went on a rant about food not about working out.
I'm sitting here now almost in tears as I think about the whole thing. I've admitted myself that over the years I battled with Bulimia myself, and know how much damage that can do to a person.
Wither this post of Mr. S's today was any kind of anything in reply to me or not I have no honest idea, but it's left me feeling like the pit of my stomach has dropped out.
Younger fans reading his blog are going to get the wrong idea. People who look up to him who have issues might take that post to be advice or something and copy him.
This is just not good. I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out over something honest that a man I've never even met just admitted in a blog post.
The blog post for this week was up about an hour ago.
Now, for anyone who's been following this, you know I have been teasing for a year about Mr. S's weight. As I believe he's too skinny.
I've blogged about this on my old blog and on the Domestic and Damned blog as well.
Last summer when I started that gimmick, Mr. S. cut a promo where he teased back about all the food he eats.
Well, today's post, Mr S. admits he's got an issue with weight. As in he will starve himself and is anorexic.... I'm just in a daze right now as I type this.
Mel thinks it was a very weird post, and that all my teasing on the blogs have caused him to admit he's got an issue with food and in general his self esteem. This is not good. This is horrible.
I know in the post he started off talking about fans asking him about working out, but he went on a rant about food not about working out.
I'm sitting here now almost in tears as I think about the whole thing. I've admitted myself that over the years I battled with Bulimia myself, and know how much damage that can do to a person.
Wither this post of Mr. S's today was any kind of anything in reply to me or not I have no honest idea, but it's left me feeling like the pit of my stomach has dropped out.
Younger fans reading his blog are going to get the wrong idea. People who look up to him who have issues might take that post to be advice or something and copy him.
This is just not good. I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out over something honest that a man I've never even met just admitted in a blog post.
The Grunge Guitar Player
I hate grunge music. That whole Seattle music scene from the early 90's can kiss my lily white arse.
I wish I had taken a photo of the kid, I really do. I had my book club last night, and we were nicely sitting in the back of the book store at a table in front of the diving line for the store and the coffee shop. The discussion was going really well we had all these points and quotes and actually laughing. Wonderful.
That was until the 17 year old Cobain wannabe sat down five feet from us with a guitar. Yeah, he did.
No he was not busking, he was not alone either. There were no signs, no post-its no nothing declaring that open mic night for the building's coffee shop but it seems it was, and there were all these teenaged girls swooning over him.
The kid, and I mean kid, I'm surprised could even see his guitar for the hair in his eyes. Not long, just bangs. It instantly put a cold shoulder on the book club and everyone's attitude got snotty as we couldn't hear each other and ended up having to move out of there.
Did I mention I am not a fan of grunge or long hair.
I wish I had taken a photo of the kid, I really do. I had my book club last night, and we were nicely sitting in the back of the book store at a table in front of the diving line for the store and the coffee shop. The discussion was going really well we had all these points and quotes and actually laughing. Wonderful.
That was until the 17 year old Cobain wannabe sat down five feet from us with a guitar. Yeah, he did.
No he was not busking, he was not alone either. There were no signs, no post-its no nothing declaring that open mic night for the building's coffee shop but it seems it was, and there were all these teenaged girls swooning over him.
The kid, and I mean kid, I'm surprised could even see his guitar for the hair in his eyes. Not long, just bangs. It instantly put a cold shoulder on the book club and everyone's attitude got snotty as we couldn't hear each other and ended up having to move out of there.
Did I mention I am not a fan of grunge or long hair.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Celebrating the Changing of the Underpants!
I posted this last night on the Domestic and Damned blog, but I thought it was just too much that I am reposting it on this one for anyone who doesn't follow me on there.
I got an email on the weekend from The Nurse saying that she finally had a week off work. She has not had a week off since Christmas. So, I phoned her this afternoon but she was out. I left a message with her husband.
That was at 1pm
It's now 7:30pm and I never heard back from her. Okay, I called her again. The chat went like this.
Me: What I get you from?
Nurse: Yay! You going to put those on.... not much trying to get your Nephew to put his underwear on. Potty training is so much fun.
Me: Lovely. this is why I don't have kids. I called earlier.
Nurse: When? There wasn't any message on the machine.
Me: Around 1:00. You're husband answered.
Nurse: After 15 years you should know by now not to leave messages with the Man as he never remembers to tell me. Leave a message on the machine.
Me: But he answered. What was I suppose to do, tell him to hang up so I could phone back and leave a message on the machine?
Nurse: Yeah actually you should have, that way I would have gotten the message... No! Don't touch...... (click)
I phoned back.
Nurse: Sorry. Nephew started to slap at the phone. He's dancing around in circles celebrating.
Me: Celebrating what?
Nurse: The changing of the underpants. He's graduated from diapers to those Pull-Ups. (little voice squealing that he's a big boy and that only babies wear diapers) I'll have to call you back.
I got an email on the weekend from The Nurse saying that she finally had a week off work. She has not had a week off since Christmas. So, I phoned her this afternoon but she was out. I left a message with her husband.
That was at 1pm
It's now 7:30pm and I never heard back from her. Okay, I called her again. The chat went like this.
Me: What I get you from?
Nurse: Yay! You going to put those on.... not much trying to get your Nephew to put his underwear on. Potty training is so much fun.
Me: Lovely. this is why I don't have kids. I called earlier.
Nurse: When? There wasn't any message on the machine.
Me: Around 1:00. You're husband answered.
Nurse: After 15 years you should know by now not to leave messages with the Man as he never remembers to tell me. Leave a message on the machine.
Me: But he answered. What was I suppose to do, tell him to hang up so I could phone back and leave a message on the machine?
Nurse: Yeah actually you should have, that way I would have gotten the message... No! Don't touch...... (click)
I phoned back.
Nurse: Sorry. Nephew started to slap at the phone. He's dancing around in circles celebrating.
Me: Celebrating what?
Nurse: The changing of the underpants. He's graduated from diapers to those Pull-Ups. (little voice squealing that he's a big boy and that only babies wear diapers) I'll have to call you back.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Summer = Crazy People
I woke up this morning to an email from Sophia the Wannabe Socialite.
"Hey you! With working and rehearsals and auditions and so many f**kin' birthdays this month, it was ridonkulous! I'm subscribed to you on youtube. I'm organizing a one act play festival PLUS doing burlesque shows this summer and applying for a grant to write my musical"
Yes, out of nowhere I get this email. No thanks for the advice on the Eczema, no how are you doing, no what's up in your world. Just a big old me me me from her.
You know, as a blogger, I spend my time being very me me me, as do all bloggers it's what a blog is for; but when you get a personal email you would expect a bit of give as well as take.
"Hey you! With working and rehearsals and auditions and so many f**kin' birthdays this month, it was ridonkulous! I'm subscribed to you on youtube. I'm organizing a one act play festival PLUS doing burlesque shows this summer and applying for a grant to write my musical"
Yes, out of nowhere I get this email. No thanks for the advice on the Eczema, no how are you doing, no what's up in your world. Just a big old me me me from her.
You know, as a blogger, I spend my time being very me me me, as do all bloggers it's what a blog is for; but when you get a personal email you would expect a bit of give as well as take.
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