just a flesh wound

I passed my motorcycle road test! I am a fully licensed motorcycle rider, and only 7 years late! HOORAY! I AM LEGAL!

I am also SORE AS HELL! Because I got into an accident. Half an hour before my road test. I went boom!

I arrived at the test centre early so I could warm up on the loaner motorcycle (if I had tested on Lola, I’d only qualify for a restricted Class 6 license – scooters only). The weather has been typical April in Vancouver: raining steadily for the last two days or so. Roads are wet and slippery, but I did half my class in a friggin’ white out – I can deal with rain. Plus, rain gear! I have some now. I was (for once) dressed appropriately for the weather, so I was technically ready for everything .. except, as it turns out, gravity.

On my pre-ride I drove around a little, practicing my exaggerated shoulder checks and lane positions. For the first ten minutes, all was good .. but then I went downhill, and hit the brakes a little too hard. I locked up a tire, skidded on the wet road/crosswalk paint, and BOOM – down I went, on my left side. My leg was trapped under the bike, so I sat there for a bit waiting for someone to notice me (echoes of my dislocation accident, when I couldn’t actually get up because arm flopping). Several people rushed over to help, and lifted the bike up enough for me to extract my leg. I got up and made sure nothing was broken, and an awesome lady who stopped to help walked the motorcycle over to the curb for me and put the kickstand up (she was a fellow rider and knew what to do while I stood around being wet and stupid). An older gentleman wanted to call an ambulance, but a) I had a road test in 20 minutes and b) I was fine, if banged up a little. I convinced everyone I was okay and thanked them profusely for their assistance, then dealt with the poor loaner bike I had dropped – the engine had flooded and I broke the left turn signal, but it was drivable. I had a sheepish ride back to the test centre and just enough time to tell my instructor what happened (and arrange to use a different bike) before I had to go inside and get my paperwork done: it was test time.

Because my life is a ridiculous opera of comedic bad timing, the rain started coming down harder. I checked in and paid my $50, then used my waiting time to meditate past the spill – I HAD to get this test done today, and I had to knock it out of the park, because complicated deadlines are looming. I thankfully managed to find some sort of zen, and then it was time to ride.

I am eternally grateful for the practice test I ran through with ProRide the evening before, meaning that none of today was a surprise to me (except for the whole “falling down” thing. that was unexpected.). I wore a stylish reflective vest with a radio attached to it, and a car would follow me while the tester gave me instructions. There were a few hiccups – we got separated on the highway, so all my excellent lane changing and merging skills were not reviewed. I eventually had to pull over and let the van catch up so they could continue assessing my mad skillz, and the test continued. Turn left. Turn right. Do a u-turn. Change lanes. Do a little dance. Make a little love. Get down tonight. Woo!

45 minutes later, we returned to ICBC. I was a little worried that I had failed because of a few slip ups (non-exaggerated shoulder checks and that whole “getting separated” thing), but after pointing out a couple things I did wrong, he gave me the verdict: I PASSED! HOORAY! I paid an additional $75 (my license needed renewing, not just upgrading) and got my picture taken while soaking wet and dripping mascara. I don’t get my new license yet though – apparently I need to do another interview to prove I don’t have an evil twin because my license is Enhanced (ooh fancy) – but after that, I’m golden. With a full class 56. I PASSED MY TEST!

AND I DID IT WHILE TOTALLY SICK! Seriously, fuck this cold/flu thing. I’m going to go lie down and hope the room stops spinning, and then maybe check my new bruises out. I’m a total wreck (no pun intended), but I officially don’t EVER have to ride a motorcycle again if I don’t want to. YAY ME!

.. owwwww.

i can ride you legally!

i can ride you legally!

don’t panic

I woke up this morning with a swollen tongue and an insanely sore throat, because this is the single worst time in the history of everything ever for me to be sick:

  • I have an invasive doctorb appointment this afternoon that will see my germ-laden ass idling in a waiting room seething with pregnant women
  • Tomorrow is day one of a 2-day discovery at work
  • I am on the agenda to talk for approximately 5 hours
  • My practice road test is tomorrow evening
  • My REAL road test is Thursday morning
  • I had to miss a work trip to Portland for the discovery because of my utterly immovable road test – I must take the test and pass it this week, or the entire universe will be in jeopardy
  • Okay maybe not the entire universe but certainly MY universe – my DL expires while in London so I must renew before we leave, and there are Complicated Complications around my skills test and learner’s license that I will literally run out of time to deal with if I don’t pass my road test and upgrade/renew my license this week
  • I am way, way, too busy to be sick

Damnit. I don’t have TIME for this and also I feel like crap. I’m lucky that I only get colds or the flu once a year or so, but why did it have to be THIS week? I’m SO BUSY. And my coworkers are going to flip out if I’m unable to talk tomorrow. DAMNIT! LIFE IS HARD!

I had already arranged to work from home today so I could go to the doctorb this afternoon, but I honestly think my going to the appointment would be a bad idea so I’m trying to reschedule it. It’s just a quick check up to make sure my new hardware is still where they left it, so I don’t think the world will end if I wait until my throat isn’t on fire to go, but I feel bad about a last minute reschedule. Then again, I would feel worse about being sick in a room full of preggos. Moving my appointment would definitely be the lesser of two evils here.

I wonder if Ed would make me some tea.

Coming soon: a shameful secret I’ve been holding onto since the 4th grade. Just when I thought I was completely out of secrets to tell, I found one more! Hooray!

sunday science

I’m feeling lousy about things: my roots are showing (by less than 0.5mm and only visible if you’re standing on top of me, but still) and I have a zit (now no one will ever ask me to prom) and blah blah tiresome personal drama at work (never, ever trust anyone). To make myself feel better while doing nothing whatsoever to solve any of my many ongoing problems, I am doing some science – with plants!

I received a large shipment of henna from Henna Sooq, and am forcing myself to use it before I get more of the amazing IBHB stuff I tried last month. Everything in the HS shipment is new to me, as they were out of my usual henna – so I have no idea what to expect 10 hours from now when I remove my Saran Wrap Hat and rinse all the mud out of my hair.

The henna I used throughout 2012/13 was Jamila Henna Powder. When I ran out, I desperately ordered anything Henna Sooq had in stock in the hopes it might maintain my accidental ombre hair (it’s so on trend!). Last night I couldn’t decide on just one kind of plant powder to marinate in because none of them were quite right: they all have properties I like, but none are the simple “damn hell ass red” I’m used to. The only logical thing left to do, then, was to obviously use them all at once like some kind of henna dirty bomb.

I use tea in place of water in my henna, so I brewed up a batch of Lipton’s Spiced Cinnamon Chai. It smells great, and helps mask some of the earth stink. While the tea was steeping, I started mixing powders:

.. all mooshed together in the tea. It’s currently sitting on the counter for three hours to release the dye, and then it goes on my head. What will happen? I don’t know! That’s most of the fun of using henna; I never know what weird shade of orange-red-black my hair will be next. It does mean that the rest of my Sunday will be spent in jammies on the couch, but I’m quite alright with that: it’s been a fucking brutal two weeks, and I could use the quiet time. And a vacation. And some tequila.

To the science dome!

the reason i smell like pot

For the last two days, I’ve reeked of pot. It’s not because I’ve suddenly taken up recreational marijuana smoking or am self-medicating for a glaucoma or two – truth be told, I’m far too lazy to keep up with the 420 lifestyle – but nonetheless, I am carrying a distinct cloud of Vancouver Green around my person. I’m like PigPen, if he were ten years older and firmly entrenched in his stoner years. Weed: I stink of it.

And it’s NOT MY FAULT! If I had been smoking pot, I’d be the first to own up to it because I am a fan of the over share – but I haven’t been! Your (completely imagined) disappointed head shaking and finger wagging is highly misplaced! I did nothing to earn your scorn!

Seriously, though: I wasn’t smoking pot.

On my way to work yesterday, I spied a small plastic baggie on the ground. I ignored it, but then my eagle eye spotted something IN the baggie: a wad of green the size of a dime. Interesting! I scooped it up and continued to the bus stop. While I was waiting the 20 minutes for my “Express” bus to roll around, I cautiously sniffed at the sticky organic contents of the bag I found, and my initial suspicion was verified: weed. Fresh weed, even. I immediately told my friends, because finding weed on the ground is hilarious to me and then I stuffed it in my pocket, because I had numbers to learn and stupid changes to struggle through.

When I picked up my jacket to head home at the end of the day, I was greeted with an overwhelming stench of pot: it seems the little blue baggie in my pocket was not at all smell-proof, and my coat had been marinating in weed all day. I tripled-bagged it before heading home, but it was too late. I told my coworkers, because a) hilarious, and b) there are certain people who would tattle on me to HR if they just assumed I spent my evenings high as fuck. I took my found weed home, and tossed it in the freezer because that seems like a good place to keep mystery drugs. My jacket still smells a little, but no more than any other resident of Vancouver.

That was yesterday. I didn’t wear the same coat today, but I still reek of someone else’s pot:

I rode Lola to work for the first time this season, parking in the sketchy lot across the street. I came into the office just before noon after working from home for most of the morning, and it was then I learned that many of downtown Vancouver’s chefs get crazy high before they start the lunch rush .. and their smoke pit of choice is behind the motorcycle parking in the sketchy lot across the street. It REEKS of pot in there. It smells like a DRUG DEN. I am SHOCKED! Except not really, it’s kind of funny and now I smell like pot all over again for reasons utterly beyond my control. Okay, maybe I didn’t HAVE to pick up the weed I found on the ground, but how was I supposed to know it was going to be crazy stinky all day long? I am not an expert on these things.

So, if any potential employers happen upon this page while Googling my name to make sure I’m not a serial killer, please note I am not addicted to weedahol and if I ever smell like drugs, there is very likely a hilarious story behind it that I will be glad to share with you.

Thank you for your time.

thirteen

On a cold, snowy night in lousy Smarch weather a lifetime ago, I hit “publish” my very first blog post on my very own internet. Thirteen years, 3 million words, hundreds of adventures, a half dozen jobs, a chick flick worth of tears, and four homes across two provinces later, it’s all come down to this:

apparently we had candles! i was just going to light toothpicks on fire and hope for the best!

apparently we had candles! i was just going to light toothpicks on fire and hope for the best!

.. a candle in a mango pancake, a strange mixture of pride and bemusement, and a glass of celebratory Diet Coke. Cheers to you, Delicious Juice Dot Com – it’s been a long, weird ride. Here’s to another 13 inappropriate years of random adventures, awesome friends, and dong-longing. May your content always be blocked by IT as pornography!

peer pressure

Today I ate bugs.

One of my co-workers backed a Kickstarter for Exo bars, a protein bar made with cricket flour. He brought some into the office, and a bunch of us tried a piece of the bug bar full of crickety goodness.

It was .. not bad.

I mean, I wouldn’t eat it regularly or anything, and if I was not as susceptible to insect-related peer pressure, I would have passed on the sample. I was already feeling kind of nauseous thanks to my lunch, and the small bit of bug bar I had almost pushed me over the edge. It didn’t taste BAD, but I really wish I hadn’t tried the cacao nut variety – it crunched. My imagination tends to run away with me at the most inopportune times, and all I could think of while chewing was “bugs bugs bugs I’m totally eating bugs”. Throw in some mystery bits that crackled in my mouth, and .. *erk*. Bugs. Not good on an already weak stomach, but quite palatable otherwise. Plus, protein! Cricket flour technology will come in handy after the apocalypse. In the meantime, there is leftover pizza in my fridge.

Sadly, I am not presently in Seattle showing too much cleavage at an all-ages show. I did some math, and realized that I likely wouldn’t get home until 3am .. and I need to be at my conference tomorrow at 9am, awake and functional. When I previously did the one-day-concert-trip-thing, the band was the opening act. Tonight they’re the headliner and not going on stage until much later. I really wanted to make my ridiculous idea work work, but in the end I just didn’t think it would be a good idea .. and so here I am: sitting at home watching a Futurama rerun, still queasy from eating bugs, and not at all inappropriately dressed. It is sad. I am full of self pity (and crickets).

things are going to get a lot worse or perhaps a lot better.

the grownup thing

I am totally okay with my decision, but I’m still going to whine about scheduling conflicts and the sensible but less fun things we do:

Astronautalis and his band of merry men (aka my three favourite musical boys in tight pants) are on tour and playing a show in Seattle next Tuesday. Being the fan girl that I am, I immediately booked time off work and arranged for a mini Mini road trip to see them play. I didn’t want to drive back to Seattle on Tuesday night for work the next day, so I thought to make An Event out of it: I booked a night in a Fancy Hotel, and made plans to have an excellent day and a half all by my lonesome (because no one else is hardcore enough to use vacation time to enable man crush swooning).

Then today happened: my favourite Marketing Manager asked if I was available next Wednesday to attend a conference with her on stuff that directly applies to what I do (neuroscience, rocket biosynthesis, that sort of thing). It’s a one-day conference only in Vancouver on the exact day I planned to be out of town to wander around Seattle in a delicious carefree daze. The company would send someone else, but I’d been specifically called out by the Uber Boss as someone they want there .. what’s a girl to do?

The only logical thing, really: I cancelled my hotel stay and unbooked the days off so I could attend the conference instead. I was worried about the hotel booking because it was a Groupon and the fine print specifically says NO RESCHEDULING NO TRANSFERRING NO ANYTHING AT ALL, but I was able to cancel the thing and get a refund. I’m sad about missing the Astronautalis show, but I have faith that they’ll play in an accessible area again soon and I’ll go to more shows (aka the opposite of what history has shown me to be true). I’m looking forward to the conference. It looks interesting, I get to spend a (paid) day off site hanging out with my favourite Marketing Manager and favourite Sam, and the brownie points earned for cancelling my plans for the sake of my job couldn’t hurt. It’s the Grown Up Thing to do. I am rocking this “adult” thing.

I still have my ticket to the show, though .. and I’ve done the drive down and back in the same day before. Perhaps being an adult doesn’t mean having less fun, it just means less sleep: I could still go to the show. Yes. This can happen. This WILL happen. I need a good dose of loud much more than I need a couple extra hours of sleep. Compromise! It keeps you fun!

wet cold canadian winter

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