Monthly Archives: August 2007

sekretz and lyez

Posted in angst, everyday kimli by

The universe is conspiring against me to make sure I don’t go to Victoria this weekend. The forecast for the long weekend is depressing and wet; not ideal for a scooter trip at all. I am bummed about this because I am sorely in need of adventure and things keep happening to prevent it – the weather, my horrendous headache, the mysterious whereabouts of my paycheque, the cramps I know I have but cannot feel because my head hurts so much, the SECRET INCIDENT. Stop it, universe. Don’t make me cut you.

The orgy of e-splurging has come to an end. I received the last of my outstanding orders yesterday; a new helmet from Taiwan. It is fucking gorgeous, and I adore it madly. I was looking forward to breaking it in this weekend with a long distance scoot to the island, but that’s looking less and less likely as the day goes on. I’ll have to think of some other fabulous way to break in my new helmet (that doesn’t actually involve any breaking whatsoever). It’s good that the deliveries will stop for a while; the postman thinks I am very strange and told me that people were “starting to talk”. I don’t know who these people are or what they could be talking about, but it sounded pretty ominous so I best try to behave for a while. A little while. Okay, maybe a week or so. There’s already four things I know of on their way to me – the Baby Scarer I won from the ebays, the goggles that were missing from my helmet shipment, and two “thanks for being awesome and answering our nosy questions” perks from Nintendo. I like getting stuff in the mail. The postman will just have to continue ringing twice, is all.

It’s the 10th anniversary of Princess Diana’s death. I remember where I was when I heard about it – I was in Edmonton, on my way back from the CD release party for Captain Tractor’s Bought the Farm. I had craftily tied the show into the real reason for my being in Edmonton; namely, the very first Fragapalooza. I was staying with one of the organizers of the event, and he had asked his dad to pick me up after the concert. He wanted to take me back to the house to sleep after the show – it was after midnight! – but I begged him to take me back to the hangar so I could grab my stuff and say hi to people. I also wanted to talk to the guy who dropped his computer while I was on my way to the concert. He had balanced his tower on top of another, and when he stood up his headphones wrapped around the box and sent it crashing to the ground. I really should have taken that as a sign of things to come; strange accidents seem to happen to this guy all the time. Seriously, just ask him what happened last Monday. He probably won’t tell you, but Ed’s a funny guy that way; wanting to keep his humiliations a secret instead of sharing it with the internet at large.

So, that’s where I was when I heard about Princess Diana’s death. Where were you?

danger taco

Posted in everyday kimli by

I understand the need for waterproof mascara; I really do. However, after washing my face three times with various cleaning lotions, is it really necessary for the mascara to STILL be on my face? I look like I’ve just joined a troop of emo kids with too much free time and eyeliner. Seriously, I’d like this mascara to come off now. Don’t make me get the belt sander.

It is very hard to get work done when Hobble is being so damn cute. He’s generally more affectionate towards me than he was in the ago, but sometimes he wants to be loved RIGHT NOW and I’m powerless to resist the head butts and giant inquiring paw on my shoulder.

The government sent me a bill for $3.59. Thanks?

Today is better than yesterday, as indicated by my multiple paragraphs versus two sentences. It’s gorgeous outside; the postie brought me a box of yarn and instructions on how to make these; we did groceries last night so there’s food in the house; I have to submit my first full invoice today reflecting my new rate; my hair is a lovely dark red-brown; I just placed a bid on the ebays for something called a Baby Scarer. For a Wednesday, I feel pretty good.

I need to figure out how to crochet, though. I want an army of woolen snails!

the postman always buzzes twice

Posted in everyday kimli, i'm an astronaut by

Today is a good day to be staring out the window, waiting for the postman. He brought me not one or two but THREE of the things I was waiting for! He knows I’m waiting for things and also that I work from home, so he buzzes to let me know he’s here although that is quite unnecessary since gazing out the window is pretty much my job these days. Hooray! I am rolling around in the fruits of my internet labours!

The weekend turned out to be pretty good. On Friday night I coerced the gang into scooting to Richmond to go to the Night Market, as I had an itch that only meat on a stick could scratch. The ride down was a little traumatic – tempers flew much faster than Shan’s Scarabeo – but good times were had and the ride back was great fun.

Saturday was a lazy day; the weather threatened to ooze unmentionables all over us so scooting was out. We did not do much of anything – Ed and I wandered around an uninspiring Metrotown, then came home to nap and kill zombies. Sunday was looking to be much of the same, but the sun came out full force so I dragged Ed downtown for a scoot. I’d been wanting to check out Portobello West for some time, and with the lure of a Home Depot right next door, I was able to spend some time wandering around the designer wares untethered. Normally that would be dangerous, except I spent a great deal more money once Ed put in his appearance rather than being all sneaky and doing it while he was out perusing caulk across the street. My lust for gorgeous things well sated, we scooted to the beach for some ice cream and people watching before heading home for a relaxing evening of more zombies and scooter washing. Productive, sort of, but more importantly, fun.

I had a mild space-related panic attack last night. I am really not coping well with being actively loathed across the board, but some days are worse than others. Today I will bury myself in proposals and scented creams and try not let things bother me so much. For someone who is so universally thick-headed, I sure do have some awfully thin skin.

This week: Sushi! The PNE! Long distance scooter adventures! The start of Anniversary Month! YAY!

yours for only $9.95

Posted in relationship drama by

Ed is thoroughly entranced by an infomercial, and I’m a little worried. Sure, there’s nothing else on TV – but we have ALL THE VIDEO GAMES IN THE WORLD; I’m sure there’s something else he could be doing.

Even if it is for Cinema! Quality! DVD!

Maybe he’s just got a boner for all those sexy 70’s styles. Yes, I’m sure that’s it. A retro boner. In his pants.

I think I’ll go to bed.

they still need me, but they don’t want me (now)

Posted in i'm an astronaut, vroom vroom by

For a fifth year in a row, Vancouver was voted the world’s most livable city by the Economist. Woo! Suck it, Trebek!

I am Not Wanted, and I’m torn between being amused and .. well, mostly just amused by it all. My former co-astronauts are scrambling to come up with reasons to keep me out of the Space Station; removing my access to tools, clients, and email and telling me I’m basically not needed for anything at all. Then there was the company BBQ last week that I wasn’t invited to – that one was cool. I accidentally got the reminder, but the original invitation never materialized – and when I tried to get more information, no one was available to answer my questions. It’s hard not to fall back on the conspiracy theory when faced with stuff like this. You’d think I was wearing a hat made of dog poop, or something.

I’m enjoying my time away from the rest of humanity, but perhaps it’s time I stepped the job hunt. The rug I’m standing on feels very wobbly for some reason, and when I peer off into the darkness I see an awful lot of people eagerly clutching at the edge just waiting to give it a great big yank.

So, scooters. There are 6 of us. We’re officially a gang now, and given my tendency to name things and also look for excuses to buy another custom-branded messenger bag, I am trying to get the peeps enthused about a name. No one is biting, though. Maybe it’s just my work-related paranoia talking, but sometimes I think my friends put up with my many, many eccentricities because everyone needs an ugly friend and I usually have gum.

Some possible gang names that have been bandied about include:

  • Urban Crawl
  • Hipsters on Wheels
  • Scooter Shooters
  • Burrard Inlet Scooter Patrol
  • and my favourite by far: Hex Angels

No one is keen on being called an angel except myself, but it works on so many levels! First of all, it’s a play on “Heck’s Angels”, which is of course the scooter-core version of the Hell’s Angels. Then, we’re all nerds and often work in hex. Hex is also Greek for six, and there are six of us. Lastly, Shan and I are fluent in the Witch-Fu and we could totally put a hex on you and turn you into frogs. See? It TOTALLY WORKS on MANY LEVELS. If only people loved plays on words and naming things as much as I do!

one of them said what do you want more than anything in this whole wide world
do you want money
do you want sex
or do you want all that success
i thought about that myself

drugs and prostitutes and crack whores, oh my

Posted in everyday kimli by

There’s a lady on our street that has appointed herself Block Commander. She sends out occasional memos with updates and news pertaining to our area, the “ghetto” of North Vancouver. I love reading them – they’re always so cheerful! For instance, June’s memo was about the block party she was trying to organize with clowns and bands and the mayor and popsicles. Fun! Another memo came out yesterday, all about the drug dealers, slum landlords, and prostitution that goes on in our neighbourhood. Hooray! Wait, what?

We all knew there was a problem with a couple of the buildings on our block – owned by the same landlord, he’ll rent to anyone with (or without, apparently) money, and does not care what happens to or on his property. In addition to the drunken idiots and general all-purpose lowlifes, there are two sets of drug dealers – one at the end of the block, and one towards the middle. Talk about convenience! A good 95-99% of all the trouble on the street – the fights, the boot hats, the screaming gangs of roving ninnies, the suicidal teenagers and their angry big brothers – it all seems to stem from either of the two drug dens. It is super. Last Saturday night, there was a big fight in the alley and someone got his head kicked all bloody. Night before last, a “kitchen fire” that resulted in a drugged out lady being taken outside and scolded by 4 fire trucks and 4 RCMP officers before being sent on her merry way. Last night, a cracked out lady of the evening was screeching her way up the block, threatening anyone who looked her way. Super awesome!

For the most part, I ignore all the action except to look outside in interest. The prostitutes are new, though. I think some of the more colourful ladies seen shambling around the properties in question may actually be plying their wares in exchange for some drugs. This sucks. I am not worried about the drunks – I ignore them, they fight amongst themselves, I am entertained for an evening. The macho jocks playing beer can golf – whatever; they’re stupid and full of testosterone, insecurity and beer. The drugs can go away now, though. The gang of tiny teenagers outside our building who were apparently waiting for their dealer to arrive – they can go away now. The crack whores and the customers who use them – please go away now. I do like our apartment, with the snails and our friends and the terrifying tent caterpillar nest outside, but the drug situation is getting out of hand. There is a high amount of traffic on our seemingly innocuous side street, and it’s for the most part all bad. How long can it be before an innocent bystander is dragged into the mix? A drug deal gone wrong? An abusive john? Another (yes, another) murder, or more cracked out women stumbling naked down the street? Maybe suburbia and the American Dream isn’t so lame after all. Urban crime can’t penetrate white picket fences, right?

vroom vroom +6

Posted in medical anomaly, vroom vroom by

Ol’ Dislocatey is really being a bitch this week, and Ed is filling my head with all sorts of horror stories about how my arm is slowly immobilizing with scar tissue and herpes because I didn’t go to physical therapy. Frankly, I didn’t know I was supposed to go. It’s not like I have a regular doctor who keeps me abreast of these things, and I don’t exactly have any benefits that would just love to send me to multiple sessions of Flexi-Bendi Time so I just sort of left my arm alone. It’s mostly fine, really. I don’t know that it’s nearly as traumatic as Ed seems to think it is. I think he’s just being mean and is also jealous of my awesomeness.

Where is the postman? I am eagerly awaiting the postman. I took my raise and bonus to heart a little frivolously, and am now waiting for the fruits of my astro-labour to arrive from the internet. Given my issues with patience, the wait is a little more difficult than it should be. Besides, it’s not like I have anything else to look forward to during the day – working naked is only so interesting for so long.

So hey, what day is it?

It’s SCOOTER FOR ED DAY!!!!! I’ve been waiting for over two years for this. Ed doesn’t seem to be very excited yet, but I’ve got enough glee for both of us. YAY! Another scooter buddy!

It would be awesome if my skin would stop acting like that of a particularly greasy 15 year old.