Friday, June 30, 2006

'The Devil Loves Prada' Is Ruining My Life

I want to have the house sparkling by the end of today because Trev’s parents are coming to visit and I believe misrepresentation is the key to a good start in a new in-law relationship.

But I’ve been avoiding the job. It’s daunting, sure, but normally I can get into it. This week I’ve been avoiding it like it was an annual physical. And I’ve figured out the problem: I don’t want to clean my house because I hate “The Devil Wears Prada.”

See, I belong to this audio book club and I get one ‘free’ download a month, so I usually find the most expensive, unabridged recording of my favourite books and it works out to be a real deal. I go on autopilot as someone with usually a British accent reads me a story. Cleaning, dog walking, cooking – it all gets done.

This month, I was stuck for ideas. I wanted something light and funny and decided to ‘go supermarket’. You know, one of those light summer reads that everyone’s into. I came across ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ on some silly little bestseller list and thought what the hell (‘hell’? Devil? get it? Ha! Heh. Hmpft).

I rarely have this kind of reaction to a book. I knew I wasn’t into it from the first line of the first page of the first chapter. But I’d spent the money and it was a deal and can’t get another one because of the budget-blah-blah-blah, so I plugged on.

“Aw, poor baby. So what?” you say, a bit sarcastically, which is kind of unnecessary, don’t you think? The point is, my housework started to suffer. And the dog got shorter walks. And I haven’t cooked much of anything. It’s pure chaos. I’ve just made the connection - it’s that book. I am actually avoiding my iPod because I dislike it so much.

Sigh. I guess I’ll revert to something from my Jane Austen phase.

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Why I Am NOT Supposed to Wear Trevor's Clothes


I swear I just pulled it on to play with the dog in the backyard. Farking mulberries are falling like rain! It's not my fault! Could happen to anyone!

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Superman Returns!

Dear Mr. Singer:

Your latest release, ‘Superman Returns’, is getting 79% on Rotten Tomatoes, a respectable showing. I could never be a critic myself – I’m too easily entertained. And I was thoroughly entertained by your movie.

You should be pleased to know that your movie made the grown men shriek like women watching a male stripper. God, I hate that sound. Let alone that sound emanating every 10 seconds from a 6 foot, 200+ lb. guy who was wearing an actual red cape.

And then there was that over-styled ‘lead singer wannabe’ guy with his cell phone. The one with his entourage and the spiky hair and the tight black shirt and the chain looped just a little too neatly to his jeans pocket? He wants everyone to know he got his Superman ‘tat’ ages ago and the photographer in the lobby didn’t get it. If he puts his forearms together it makes the “S”? See?!? Why didn’t that guy fucking get it?!

Oh, and to the Russian lady sitting beside me who leaned forward and told him to stop shrieking every time you see the Superman Logo, I say bravo Madam!

Entertaining crowd aside, Brian, Brian, Brian, can we talk? You had me, a non-fan living with a guy who owns a Superman garbage can, actually enjoying myself. But what is with Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane? I admit I’m a little, okay VERY, picky when it comes to women’s roles in superhero movies. Rarely do we see a character as flawed, tough and likeable as Lois Lane, especially as portrayed by Margot Kidder. So why you thought a doe-eyed, Second-Coming-of-Katie-Holmes was appropriate for this role, I’ll never know. She was more neurotic schoolgirl than hard-nosed reporter.

Please tell Ms. Bosworth it’s not her. She read her lines well enough. And I doubt many of the men (and perhaps some women) in the audience were complaining.

Well, that’s about all I had to say. I do wish Trev had come out of the theatre with that look of rapture he gets when he watches the 1978 ‘Superman'. But he’s loved that movie since he was four. It’s impossible to live up to certain expectations.

Take heart, though - as the credits rolled, that big, shrieking guy in the red cape pointed at the screen and yelled “FUCKING AWESOME!” So that’s nice.

Yours,
Working From Home Today

* * *

WORKING: I had to look up the release date of Superman.
TREV: ha
TREV: you're smarter than Geoff Peveree from the Toronto Star
TREV: he claims Eva Marie Saint reprised her role as Martha Kent from the original. She was never in the original. He said James Marsh played Lois's fiancée. It was James Marsden. On CBC, they kept saying Christopher Reeves. I HATE THAT. Its R-E-E-V-E. No S.
TREV: all it takes is a quick check on IMDB
TREV: couple of minutes.

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Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Muffin, Man UPDATED

He says, “Boy, this budget is sure having an effect. I find a twoonie and I’m like, hey there Big Boy. You have muffin written all over you.”

“We have the muffins I made just over there,” I say reproachfully.

“…and so I resist the temptation.” Then, “hey look, this muffin has melanoma.”

A LITTLE LATER ON iCHAT:

WORKING: So, did you eat that muffin?
TREV: I sure did.
TREV: melanoma and all
WORKING: Oh. Okay.
TREV: why
WORKING: Aside from the melanoma, there weren't any white spots that you noticed?
TREV: ?
TREV: am I gonna get sick?
WORKING: No, no, no, no, no. I don't think so.
WORKING: Just that the others are quite moldy. After only three days!
TREV: so you've thrown the rest out?
TREV: Yes.
TREV: I didn't smell or taste anything odd. But then, they were so shitty, how could I tell?
WORKING: "Shitty" being the key word. Full of fiber, those were.

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Monday, June 26, 2006

Super Powers

WORKING: I'd like to see “Marie Antoinette”.
TREV: I heard there were boo's at Cannes
WORKING: I know. But they take their history very seriously.
TREV: and their cheese.
WORKING: And wine, it turns out.
TREV: and...
TREV: um
WORKING:
First, let's set the record straight: Sofia Coppola's period film "Marie Antoinette," which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival on May 24, was not universally despised. Yes, there was booing at that infamous first press screening on Wednesday morning. But there was also applause, and even some cheers.

The French newspaper Le Parisien thought the film was great. "It's funny, enlightened, insolent and full of possibility," wrote François Vey. "In a word, iconoclastic. Too bad we didn't have Sofia Coppola for our history professor."
(Excerpt from LA Times, May 26th).
TREV: I'd see it. I just can't stand Dunst
TREV: So, as a compromise, I have purchased two tickets to the 10pm Tuesday screening of “Superman Returns”. Happy? Yes, I know you are.
TREV: no need to thank me.
WORKING: I knew Superman would somehow make his way into this discussion.
TREV: It’s one of his many powers. Making his way into conversations. It comes somewhere between super-knuckle cracking and super-nose picking.

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Wanna Burger with Your Exibitionism?

Friday night, we found ourselves with Matt, Adrienne and Day on a secluded patch of sand on the island. We’d dragged a picnic table right to the edge of the water. Matt and Adrienne magically rigged up a grill over our impromptu fire pit, which crackled with the wood we’d colleted on the walk to the other side of the island. They served burgers and salad and cold Moosehead beer. Masses of black coloured birds skimmed silently in long lines over the water. Sailboats and a soft sunset. Silence. I could almost believe we’d left the city entirely,

Except for the curtain of smog in the distance. Oh, and the nude guy.

He appeared from behind an outcrop of bushes and driftwood and stood on the edge of our little piece of beach until he caught my eye. He gestured slightly – could he walked through? My brain had stopped momentarily so I nodded. He padded slowly along the sand. We all pretended there wasn’t a naked East Indian guy walking within inches of our antipasto.

“Thank God we’re not eating hot dogs,” Trevor broke the silence after he was out of earshot.
“Do you think he shaves?” Day asked.

20 minutes later, the naked guy returned, only this time he stopped.
“This isn’t part of the nude beach?” He asked. We looked at each other. Adrienne had slipped off her sandals, so maybe that’s where he got confused. “No, it isn’t.”
“Oh, very sorry. Can I have a glass of water?”
I was eye-level with the equipment God gave him so I quickly shifted my gaze, or at least I think I was quick about it. I’d had 3 beers already.

He thanked us and moved along. When we saw him again, he was on the ferry and fully clothed but I’ll always remember him naked. Whether I want to or not.

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Wednesday, June 21, 2006

In-Laws and Godparents

I got a brief email from an ex-boyfriend’s parents, just saying hi and passing along an article they thought would be of interest. He and I broke up 4 ½ years ago. They say they still think of me. I liked them. I would have liked to keep them as, well, not exactly in-laws. Maybe today’s version of Godparents (now with 74% less God)?*

I have the best in-laws coming to me. Seriously. My in-laws will fight your in-laws any day and beat them soundly. Come October, I believe they’ll be legally bound to defend me because, you know, it's IN LAW(and won’t they be happy to know I’ve just volunteered them for a rumble). Traditionally, I become their problem now (Working's dad breathes a sigh of relief. Two down, six to go...).

Now, where did I put my tea?

* My real Godparents, who I recall meeting once, had seven kids, divorced and he became a homeless drug addict. I haven’t asked if they’re still Catholic. Seems sort of irrelevant.

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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Extra Layer of Grease

Work-wise, it’s been a taxing day. I feel like I’m wearing a layer of uncomfortable, sticky grease made up of disappointment, frustration and desperation. A nagging worry about 'us' for no good reason other than I’ve been immersed in really horrible relationship stories all day. Break ups. Divorce. Financial chaos. Heart conditions.

My mom is / was a social worker. I think she said it was hard to leave it at work. Or maybe I just assumed it was.

Anyway, I’m going to go take a shower and remember that everything is actually more than all right. (Knock on wood)

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Because I Promised to Blog More Often

WORKING: Do you have a lot of the email addresses you need for the wedding notice?
TREV: Most. My parents will have the others, I'm sure.
WORKING: Shall we compile them now?
TREV: How about tonight?
WORKING: okay
WORKING: Of course, we were going to talk about the cable bill last night and didn't. Remind me to remind you.
TREV: Remind me to remind you to remind me.
WORKING: right.
TREV: Need a reminder for that?
WORKING: yes please.

* * *

WORKING: Hey, there's nothing I need to do for your recipe tonight, is there?
TREV: no, the ingredients magically congregate on their own. Then, after a complex and very mysterious dance, they commit ritual suicide, sacrificing their own unique qualities for the good of our culinary needs. It’s a recipe that could cure hunger in Africa, but I’m thinking, what's in it for me?
TREV: but, if you're curious, its pg 166 Cooking Light, March 2006.
TREV: hello? Are you there?
WORKING: I was putting laundry in the machine. But ha ha.

* * *

WORKING: Adrienne and Matt wanna know if we want to go for a picnic on Center Island on Friday.
TREV: No. I hate Adrienne. I hate Matt. I hate picnics, islands AND Fridays. So tell them yes.
WORKING: Gotcha.
WORKING: Boy, you are in a mood today.
TREV: nah, I'm fine.

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Monday, June 19, 2006

His Week to do the Meal Plan

WORKING: Hey love. Did you have something in mind for supper tonight? Is it something I should get ready?
TREV: right. let me check my fancy calendar… Tonight was supposed to be the Sausage and Bean Ragu on Quinoa macaroni.
TREV: But I forgot to take the sausage out to defrost
TREV: and I need dry white wine.
TREV: oops
WORKING: Oh.
TREV: I could bump up the curried rice and veggies from Wednesday.
WORKING: Yes. Because the veggies are starting to turn.
TREV: Which ones?
WORKING: All of them.
WORKING: What do I have to do?
TREV: The curried rice and veggies are a slo-cook recipe. Page 135 in the book.
WORKING: Oh, er, better get that started!
TREV: I believe you can cook it on high for 4 hours if that give you more time
WORKING: Maybe I'll do a few hours at low and kick it up to high before I go to the gym.
TREV: that sounded very quotable
WORKING: you can use it.
TREV: I will.

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

The Anti-Bridal Shower

This scene is better set through the eyes of the pizza delivery man. True story. Except for the made-up parts.

He has three long boxes to deliver to some little street in the middle of College. Something nags at him. Something about College. But he’s running few minutes late so he shrugs it off and starts his car.

It hits him about 10 minutes later when he is stuck in the crush of traffic at the head of College. The Taste of Little Italy festival. “Oh fuck!” he says (only he says it in Spanish).

Half an hour later, he’s finally doing the messy 12-point turn it takes to get out of there. The pizzas are going to be a little late. Not if I can help it, he thinks to himself

He pulls over and digs out the battered copy of the Toronto guide he keeps stashed under the passenger seat. The page he wants has a fruit punch stain on it. “Fucking kids,” he says, but immediately regrets it because he loves his kids and this situation isn’t their fault. Beatrice, Beatrice. There it is. But wait, it’s a one-way. It can only be accessed by… College.

When he regains his composure, he checks his watch and pulls sharply back into traffic, causing a cabbie to lean on the horn. The pizzas are going to be a lot late, now. That means they’ll be free to the customer. Which means he’ll probably get fired this time. But it’s not his fault, right? God damned Taste of God damned Little Italy. Well, he’ll work it out with the boss when he gets back to the shop but for now he has a more immediate concern - what to say to the customer.

He has a lot of time to think about it. It’s a 10-minute hike on foot up Beatrice carrying the now heavy pizza travel case. Sweat pours down his face. It’s muggy, the hottest it’s been this year. People are lounging on their porches holding what are presumably cold beverages and he wishes he could set the pizzas down on the roof of a car and join them, just for one drink. Maybe they’d feel sorry for him and offer him two. A cold beer is what he wants. Several cabs pull past him, driving the wrong way up the one-way. He curses that he doesn’t have the guts or luck to drive like they do.

He checks the slip, compares it to the houses. There it is. “Around back,” it says on the slip, and it says the same thing on scrap paper taped to the walls of the house. So he follows the stone path. He comes to a gate. He opens the gate. And then almost drops the pizzas.

The backyard is full of beautiful women, all in their late 20s or 30s and many of them are in various stages of undress. An athletic blond is just sliding tight fitting jeans up over her hips. A slim woman with thick, long brown hair slips a shirt down over herself. He’s only just missed a full reveal. “No one leaves the party without something!” a cute, smiling Asian girl dances around the yard throwing articles of clothing at people. A blond in turquoise satin sucks on a cigarette.

Blushing furiously, he averts his eyes to look at anything else but it’s difficult. There are clothes strewn all over the backyard, draped over bushes, on chairs, over the fence. There’s a table piled high with travel sized toiletries. “Pizza,” he says and steps forward onto an errant high-heeled shoe, catching himself just in time. The Asian girl is a bit wobbly and he notices the bottles of wine and beer. She catches sight of him and announces joyfully, “The pizza’s here!”

“That’s $83.65,” he croaks. As a curvy girl in tall, black heels fishes for the money, he gazes around. They are ignoring him anyway. He’s just the pizza guy. Suddenly, he catches the eye of a girl with freckles, sitting on the edge of the low deck, knees tucked up, Corona raised to her lips. She’s grinning at him like she’s caught him. He blushes again, takes the money without even counting it and leaves the yard, starting the long, hot hike back to his minivan.

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Saturday, June 17, 2006

Holy Shit! Again!

WORKING: Have we been dating 4 or 5 years?
TREV: 12.
TREV: It'll be 4 in August
WORKING: Oh.
WORKING: So you've been in T.O. 5 years?
TREV: On September 4th. Wow. That time flew by.
TREV: That's longer than I had worked at [FORMER COMPANY IN REGINA]
WORKING: Say it.
TREV: Say what?
WORKING: You know....
TREV: Holy shit!
WORKING: Perrrfect.

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Friday, June 16, 2006

All In a Morning

I was just transported back in time. Not literally, though that would be interesting*. Trev just called to ask if he’d locked me out. He’s done it before and I’ve had to climb through a window, which is always awkward and unflattering. But he hadn’t locked me out.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“Oh, and I love you,” he said.
“I love phone calls like this!” I said

And suddenly, a memory. He used to call me like this in the middle of day when we were working at the same place. That's four years ago. We weren’t really supposed to be dating. I would get tingles knowing that I was dating the very person after whom I'd been shamelessly (and probably not very subtly) lusting.

*I’ve been devouring Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. They are historical, fantasy, romance, adventure, guilty pleasure, stay-up-way-too-late reading kind of books. I can’t get enough of Claire and Jamie Fraser, especially the steamy parts. Which are quite good. Ahem.

• * *
WORKING: Oh, funny thing happened at the park today. And when I say 'funny', I mean 'farking crazy'.
I was walking with Charlie towards the park and I catch a glimpse of this white thing weaving in and out of traffic on Carlaw. I get closer. It's a dog. One of those Labradoodles, closely shaved. Looks familiar but I can't think of her name.
Cars are slamming on their breaks as she streaks out between parked cars. She almost gets smoked off a few times.
So I cross to the park and think for a second of letting it be, but she looked lost.
So I called her over and to my great surprise, she came.
I unclipped Charlie's leash, clipped it onto the dog. She was really sweet, rolled on her back for me.
So Charlie's off leash but as you know, she's usually fine crossing the park to the dog area so I figure I'm okay.Only, suddenly this baby bird comes swooping down and actually crash lands in Charlie's face. Well, that's just too much for her to resist.
So picture me wrangling this strange dog, trying to get ahold of Charlie who is about to pulverize a baby bird in front of school children.
TREV: this stuff doesn't happen to me
WORKING: "DROP IT!" I said. And accordingly, I dropped the ball. And to my surprise, she also dropped the bird. So I grabbed hold of her choke chain, dragged both dogs over to the ball, which had rolled beside the bird, tried to get the ball while not letting them grab the bird, and promptly dropped my iPod.
TREV: she dropped the bird? wow
WORKING: So finally, everything all gathered up, I drag the dogs to the dog park. Actually, Charlie's coming along nicely by my side and the other dog thinks this is great fun and is completely cooperative. I meet a man at the edge of the dog park who looks thoroughly surprised to see his dog on my leash. I told him point-blank that his dog was almost killed on Carlaw.
"She's only 11 months," he said. I almost snorted, but he looked pained. As they left the park, he thanked me again.
TREV: good on ya, lub
TREV: luv
TREV: why do I always type it that way?
WORKING: An hour later, we were walking back and Charlie dropped her ball and beelined for the bird. I was half a football field away, but I could see its wings flapping on either side of her mouth.
TREV: she's a natural
WORKING: "DROP IT!" I yelled. And she did. "LEAVE IT." She did. I got hold of the little robin, now in shock and covered in dog slobber, and returned it to a sturdy branch in a tree.
It promptly rolled out of the tree and bounced off the ground.
TREV: not meant to make it I think
WORKING: Probably not. But it was well covered by undergrowth, so I left it.
Charlie wanted to go back for it and tried to a couple of times. And guaranteed, for the next week she'll go straight for that tree.
But the point of the story is, I think this dog psychology bullshit is working.
Thus making it not really bullshit, I guess.
TREV: true
WORKING: And that is my story. (bows)
TREV: applause

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Thursday, June 15, 2006

Lunch Hour Check-In

WORKING: I CAN'T believe it's almost noon!
TREV: I know. Late starts kinda suck. As much as sleeping in is nice...
WORKING: I can't believe we slept in that late! I can believe you did - you were tired. But what's my excuse?
TREV: I'm a leader, and you're a follower. It's quite simple really.
WORKING: Lead me, oh Great One (she said in zombie tones, a dribble of drool leaking from the corner of her mouth)
TREV: as usual.

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Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Tommy D. vs. Arcade Fire

WORKING: This is either funny or just stupid: CBC Story
TREV: Ha! I'll bet it’s all [DELETED]’s fault.
TREV: Know what I've come to realize today?
TREV: I don't think I like Arcade Fire.
TREV: Every time one of their songs comes on my iTunes, I get annoyed half way through.
WORKING: Really?
WORKING: That's perfectly okay.
WORKING: Though, maybe we should keep it just between us....

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Monday, June 12, 2006

Broke!

For the last couple of weekends, we’ve been spending a touch more liberally. Oh, just things like video rentals, a meal out, a pizza in, gifts for people plus postage, used books, a couple of coffees, that sort of thing. $5 here, $20 there. Nothing that made us think we were off the wagon.

Yesterday we went to get the grocery money and realized we’d spent almost all of our variable expense funds for the month. And it’s only June 12th.

To see all of that money just GONE and knowing that we blew so much in a matter of two weeks…. Well, I panicked because that’s what I do best in such situations. To his credit, Trevor kept his head, although with his ‘very serious and worried’ face.

Today, for work, I interviewed a couple that was eerily similar to us. They spent like crazy and then she did what I did – spent several months on unemployment as a means of spiritual recovery. Only the next job hasn't come in yet. Same debt load, minus one income. I could feel the stress and frustration in their voices. She even started crying at one point – she thinks it’s all her fault that they are one paycheck away from disaster. He thinks it's his.

Trev and I didn’t get to the edge of the cliff before we started stepping back. But we could have gone over just as easily as anyone. The cash is there to keep us conscious of and connected to our spending, even if an empty wallet is the lesson.

It’s working. We can’t quit now.

I know, finances are supposed to be hush-hush, more secret than sex, kind of up there with work. I figure that if I’m encouraging these couples to put it all out there on national TV, this is the bloody least I can do.

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Sunday, June 11, 2006

What I Love and Hate About Dogs

This was an assigment from my writing group. I think it was meant as a joke but as I wrote, I found myself paying tribute.

* * *
Have I ever hated dogs? I remember as a kid in Africa, I was terrified to walk through the village because the dogs recognized me as different and terrified and they came after me. As a toddler, I got bit on the face by a small, white terrier and I haven’t much liked small dogs since. And there are some dogs at the dog park I don’t care for. But I generally have an affinity for dogs, mostly because of the great dogs that have been in my life.

Beeman was the first dog I ever knew. He was my grandparents’ dog, a Border Collie with a penchant for escape. I remember mostly him by the stories. Once, he jumped out of a second story window and lived. Another time, my grandparents forgot him on the other side of the city and a week later he showed up on their doorstep, starving, bedraggled but alive. Beeman was an institution, always there, like Grandma’s milkshakes or the smell of the linen cupboard in the hall. I was shocked when he actually died of old age.

Then I knew Josie, a crazy Malamute who my parents saved from certain death on a farm because she liked to kill chickens. She wasn’t a cuddly kind of dog and I certainly didn’t love her, but I developed a respect for her one day after school. There was a bully who used to harass me all the way home. I was terrified of him. That day he actually came into our yard. I wasn’t sure what to do until Josie suddenly appeared behind me from her crawl space under the house. The bully stopped in his tracks. Josie took a few steps towards him and he bolted. I felt so powerful having my very own monster.

Josie went on to birth two liters and then, when my parents couldn't handle her anymore, was handed off to relatives. She eventually died by impact with car.

Khotso, a Chow-Shepherd mix, was the first dog I really loved. I was a pre-teen. We were just back from Africa (his name meant “Peace” in Sesotho) and we got him from a farm. He was really my dad’s dog but he would have died to protect any of us, even if we didn’t always appreciate him. Quiet and patient, he was always there in the background as we went through some of the toughest years of our lives. My dad and my brother cried when he died from cancer. He now rests under the apple tree in my parents’ yard.

Maggie, a darling flat-coated retriever, was how I realized I liked being responsible for a dog of my own. My ex-boyfriend and I picked her out at the pound, and while I shared in her care, I insisted she was his responsibility. I was surprised when my heart crumbled for having to leave her behind after we broke up. Kiwi-the-cat and I shared grief over losing Maggie (Kiwi howled day after day. I almost gave him back to the pound, my ex, whoever would have him). As far as I know, she’s still happy and healthy and well cared for by my ex and his family.

Charlie is my first, real, Til Death Do Us Part dog. She’s mine, she’s Trevor’s, she's the first indication of our intentions to stick together for awhile. I searched far and wide for her and when she stepped of the transport truck (from Alma, QC), I had no idea that she was the dog I’d picked out (Cocker Spaniel cross, my ass!). But she turned out to be the best dog I’ve ever known. She is likely the first dog my kid(s) will know. Kiwi is much happier. Life is so much better with a dog, especially one like Charlie.

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Friday, June 09, 2006

For Your MP3 Devices

A new Charlie and Percy Show is up for your listening pleasure. It’s particularly good today. I think it’s because they’re not trying to digest pizza at the same time as they’re talking. There’s a lot less belching for one thing (there is still some, of course):

Okay, this one's a bit different. Trev and Matt solve global warming AND bring peace to the Middle East. How's THAT for a show?

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The 'F' Word

Working from home for two and a half years now, I’ve essentially become a hermit, evidenced in my deteriorating fashion sense, decreasing physical fitness and increasing weight (I’m obviously not the fasting kind of hermit). Unfortunately, there’s no reason to be prideful when you see your dog more than anyone else.

One day during a trip back home, I was sitting at my parents’ dinner table and my dad, having eaten his weight’s worth of pasta, pushed himself back from the table and released The Gut. I suddenly realized I am my father’s daughter. I don’t get ass’ilicious like my sisters, I get fat. Sagging, tummy-only, heart-disease-risk-indicator FAT. Dad will never actually be fat because he’ll never stop working hard jobs. However, if he got a desk job for two and a half years, I believe we’d start looking oddly similar.

It causes some confusion for people in my hometown who remember me as the muscular exercise freak I was two and a half years ago. They didn’t witness all those muscles devolve into gelatinous, centralized fat. So they jump to the conclusion that I am pregnant. And congratulate me. And then don’t believe me when I insist I’m not pregnant, I’m just fat (this actually happened more than twice).

Don’t get me wrong - I am very glad to have this body. I like this body. It functions well and doesn’t get sick very often. This body enjoys manual labour, has a mean right cross and strong lungs, and can walk comfortably at a quick pace for miles and miles. I suspect this body will get pregnant fairly easily ONE DAY, if that’s hereditary. And I think this body will actually last quite a long time, barring plane crashes or poisoning.

But this body is not meant to be heavy. And not just aesthetically - my back hurts all the time now, my thyroid is shit and I get weird joint pains. I just don’t feel well.

Losing the bulk is going to take some time, just like it did before, and a lot of hard work. And I will do it, if only to prevent murmurs of “shotgun wedding” come our special day* this October.

*’special day’ gives me the heebies.

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Wednesday, June 07, 2006

He Feeds My Addiction...

TREV: Thought you might like this: Corrie Canuck
WORKING: Sweet!!!
WORKING: That shouldn't make me as happy as it does.
TREV: But it does make you happy?
WORKING: Hell yeah.

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Monday, June 05, 2006

How to get me to rip my top off, quick-like

WORKING: I just poured hot tea down the front of my shirt. I actually burned myself.
TREV: Oh shit. Are you ok?
WORKING: It just hurts.
TREV: Put some cream on it.
WORKING: Good idea. Or butter.
TREV: No not butter!
WORKING: eeps. It hurts. I'm so dumb.
TREV: Butter will make it worse
WORKING: Really? I thought it helped.
TREV: No no. It traps the heat inside and continues the burning. Cold cream or aloe vera is your best bet.
TREV: Something that your skin absorbs
WORKING: kay.
WORKING: I can’t believe I have a tea-related injury.

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Friday, June 02, 2006

Tapped Out

Bloggers know you don’t write about work on your blog. But isn’t that weird? We are ready to talk about our personal lives to an extraordinary, sometimes graphic extent, and yet there are 8 hours of our day that we don’t cover. Sex is fine. Work stories are not. Even if the story is really, really good (I can, however, share it with you over drinks).

I’m just freaked out in general, lately. I spend my days obtaining clearances to film for a "get out of debt" reality show. This involves a lot of schmoozing with Corporate Affairs Departments. I know exactly what they want to hear. If I slap on the right mask and push the buttons the right way, the robot will spit out a “pass go” ticket and we can go shoot our little purchasing scene in their childrens’ toy department.

The funny thing is, I'm sucking up to coporations who sort of indirectly got these families into their hellish situation in the first place. I have to downplay the fact that we will be advising these families to TOSS THE CARDS AND STOP THE SHOPPING. So I'm really asking to film at the scene of the crime. The process freakin’ creeps me out. Oh, I know - these places aren't forcing us to spend-spend-spend, right? Whatever, even if it's a world of our own creation, it's taking over.

I don't want to preach, you've heard it before, I know. I'm even a cliche. You know what? I really want to go out and buy all sorts of things that will make me feel good. I would follow that up with an overpriced meal, order a bottle of wine, maybe rent a car and get out of the city for the weekend. Oh, it's so tempting. I had a tough week. I have enough credit.... I deserve it, right?

Ha, I tricked you because, see, I don't give up! OUT OF DEBT IN THREE YEARS is my mantra and I mean it. I will feel that freedom. Oh, you say, debt doesn't own you. It's just money. Yeah right. The show I'm working on is the show of last resort. These people are breaking up over debt. Divorce over of a sofa they bought at 30.76 % interest and still haven't paid off five years later. Thousands of dollars gone, unaccounted for. Where did it all go? None of them know. All that's left are the numbers, a debt that lingers, clings, and now defines.


In other news that makes me feel like our world is choking on itself, Jamie Oliver did this bit last night where he showed school kids various different kinds of vegetables – leeks, rhubarb, asparagus. None of the kids knew what the vegetables were but they were screaming “M@cDon@lds” before he so much as turned over the image of the golden arches. They could see it through the paper.

Well shit.

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