Check out this unintentionally artsy picture of my Frankendesk:
I’m building myself a desk made from the parts of three Ikea Jerkers. It is totally awesome. More room for toys and gadgets! Hooray!
Plus, I’m totally hidden behind all my crap. Truly, my Frankendesk is a work of a madman genius.
Things the “HP” on my socks might stand for:
I scooted to work today! It was cold as hell and a little slow going thanks to the headwind while trying to drive up the hill on the Lions Gate Bridge, but whee! Scooting! So fun. I hope the sun sticks around for a while; it’d be nice to see some flowers blooming and also I enjoy having dry feet.
I do wish my eyes would stop leaking, though. My allergies seem to be getting worse each year – how long before I am nothing more than an oozing mass of salty sinus drips and other randomly thick mystery liquids?
I itch, too.
Happy Pi Day, nerds!
It’s almost spring! How do I know this?
Even though I haven’t been able to ride Sally since October because of the weather, I already have a parking ticket to add to my Wall of Shame. This one is special, because it’s just a warning – and I received it IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT.
I needed somewhere to store Sally during the winter, so I made an arrangement with our landlord to park Sally in front of our building, locked to the fence. Sally sat there for 5 months without any problems, until yesterday when someone took offence – and lo, a parking ticket. Hooray! It is totally awesome; not being able to park your scooter anywhere – not even on non-city-owned property with permission from the owner. I swear, I’m trying awfully hard to go green and be a completely convenient truth, but I’m getting foiled at every non-turn and I can’t even ride anywhere yet. This sucks.
Other things that suck: the weather, Samsung’s support department, blue screens of death, day 3 of my headache, and having a client complain about your department (ie: me) being “too young and tech-savvy” to do the job properly. When the job in question is training people to use our software, I would generally think that being “tech-savvy” is a good thing – and hey, when you’ve been trained four separate times and you still don’t get it, perhaps the problem isn’t with the young tech-savvy people training you but with your complete inability to use technology more advanced than a microwave oven. Just sayin’.
This is not a good Tuesday. In fact, my only happy is coming from MacBeth – iTunes insists on repeating “Family Reunion” by Blink182 many times during the day. The joy is in the lyrics; the only words of the song are “shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits fart turd and twat”, which excellently sums up how I feel about pretty much everything right now.
I forgot my cell phone at home today, so anyone trying to get a hold of me with have some difficulty in doing so (she says, like she ever gets any phone calls at all).
I’m having an issue with my beloved Q1B, and I am having a devil of a time getting support for it. This makes me very sad, because I have many things I want to do with it but I can’t because it needs a doctor. Compounding the issue is the non-availability of Q1Bs in Canada – I can’t even call up support for help, because they don’t have access to them. My calls have been rerouted down to the US twice, and each time I was disconnected. FIX MY TOY! I AM SAD AND LOST WITHOUT IT! I just sold my PDA too, so I don’t even have a backup available – this sucks. How can I have truly excellent wireless adventures when my toys need fixing? I can’t, that’s how. I hate living an analog life.
A half-asleep conversation with Ed over the weekend has made me remember the recurring nightmare I used to have as a child. In the dream I’d be standing on the corner by our old house, watching my mother return from being gone for a long long time – and she’d always be walking up the hill, carrying a bag from Woodward’s, and stumping along on her peg leg.
I can’t even begin to imagine what the deeper meaning behind that dream is – abandonment issues? Fear of both pirates and my mother? Nostalgia for a bankrupt department store? I keep going back to the peg leg – while it was terrifying at the time, it’s hilarious now. Hee. Stumpy mom.
Okay, back to working and also trying to find someone to fix my poor Q1B.
I’m a terrible cat mom.
I don’t deal very well with things that don’t love me, and sometimes I find myself downright disliking our youngest cat, Hobble. I get really tired of trying so very hard to get him to at least acknowledge my presence only to have him literally step over me to lavish Ed with adoration – while most of the time I stare at him sadly and wonder what I did to make him hate me so; sometimes I find myself thinking very nasty thoughts at the 20lb gray cat o’ lard. Like right now. Having to share your household with something that hates you really does suck. It also makes me worry that when we DO get a pug, Ed will work his voodoo again and I’ll be stuck with another animal that does not love me in return. I do not handle rejection well. Why don’t you love me, you stupid cat.
Hmpf.
I am utterly horrified to find myself writing a business document that contains the sentence “It is not enough to simply maintain the status quo; we must strive to continually provide excellence at all levels of interaction with our clients.” Jesus Christ, who am I and what have I done with the real Kimli?
Redemption does come quickly for me, though – in the same document I refer to myself as a “megalomaniacal control freak”. That’s normal, right? I’ll totally make it in the business world.
Look out, The Man! I am coming for you!
Possible reasons I am dressed like a milkmaid today:
I am getting the distinct impression I Tommy Westphall’d my entire childhood until 1991.
I’ll wait a second so you can Wiki the reference and get yourself comfortable inside my head –
Okay then. I am worried about the state of my past. I’ve been online since the dawn of time, and in that time frame, I haven’t found anyone from my past.
Elaborate? Gladly. As the internet grew, I hopped on the bandwagons of all the latest “make and find friends!” fad websites. Most of the time I used these sites to keep in touch with people I already talked to on a regular basis, or to make myself look super cool by seeming to have many friends. In all the time I’ve been online, through all the many different friend-collecting sites, I have never found ANYONE that I was friends with in school. I’ve used classmate finding sites, MySpace, FaceBook, Orkut, Friendster – you name it, and I have an account there and have tried in vain to find anyone I knew in real life before I received my first computer with modem. Every person I know today I know from AFTER the computer was my only social outlet – all my oldest friends are from the STS. I think back and say “Oh, I’ve known ‘nee and Brooks and Mike and Matt forever!” – true, but only if you think of “forever” as starting after 1991. Elementary school, junior high, senior secondary – can’t find anyone. My best friends, my worst enemies, people I never had any dealings with yet I remember their names – nothing. No sign of them anywhere. Can it really be that out of 13 years of school acquaintances, I am the ONLY ONE who uses the internet? That seems incredibly unlikely – we didn’t graduate (or in my case, not graduate) so long ago that technology would be far beyond the capabilities of our generation, especially when you consider that we are (were?) the very definition of Generation X. Where IS everyone? Why can’t I find ANY of my classmates online?
What other conclusion can I come to, other than “they never existed”? Did I dream my entire life until 1992? Was my entire childhood just a fantasy? Did I retcon everything I knew before 1991? Holy shit, am I the Matrix?
Great. Now I’m not going to be able to talk to anyone without wondering if they’re real or just a figment of the Kimli Wangzilla Universe.
On the upside, that would make everything really and truly all about me. Hah!
I want this: 5 People Who Died During Sex: and 100 Other Terribly Tasteless Lists
On the other hand, I *need* this: The Book of Weird Sex
That is all.
Regrets; I’ve had a few – then again, too few to mention.
It’s a nice theory, except this is the internet and therefore I mention everything because I just don’t have the sense to keep things to myself once in a while. With that in mind, let’s talk about regrets.
Personally, I try not to regret things. It just makes for a big headache and a lot of wistful rainy afternoons, the kind they make Hallmark commercials about. Still, it’s hard to go through life without having ANY regrets, even if they’re as insignificant as wishing you had gone with the soup of the day instead of the baked potato at last night’s dinner. I’m really hard-pressed to regret even the major things like not going to university, because that would change where and who I am today – things I’m quite comfortable with, thank you very much. Sure, maybe a university education would have led me to be making more than two chickens today (highly doubtful since I would have gone into the Creative Writing program at UVic – if anything, I’d be making a chicken and a half less), but what sense is there regretting that I never did get to do dormitory life and have all those sexy 90210-style adventures? I got to do a whole range of other things I wouldn’t have been able to do because I was stuck in university, so it all evens out in the end (although I’m still totally open to having sexy adventures – any takers?).
Even though I have a sunny outlook on life and am generally pretty happy with how I turned out, I do have one huge regret that hangs over my life like a pregnant cloud of soggy doom. It’s been 13 years, and I still feel a pang when I think about it.
One of my favourite bands of all time is a ska band from Montreal called Me Mom & Morgentaler. I’ve been infatuated with them for years; their album Shiva Space Machine has been on my Desert Island List since day one. I heart them, a lot. I haul out the CDs a few times a year and get my early 90’s groove on; it’s one of those things that Ed totally doesn’t understand but knows not to fight.
In 1994, they played a show in Victoria. I was going to go – I was of legal age, the show wasn’t sold out, and I had a way to get to and from the venue. Except .. I didn’t go. No real reason; I could have easily gone by myself (I couldn’t find anyone to come with me) and had an excellent time, but at that time I didn’t really have the confidence to go to bars or clubs by myself (she says, like she has the confidence NOW or something). I chickened out, okay. I passed on seeing my favourite band play live because I was too scared to go to the bar myself. I managed to convince myself that they’d be back, and next time I would absolutely go see them play and have an excellent time doing so.
The band broke up two months later.
I’ve regretted not going to that show ever since, to the point of *forcing* myself outside to see concerts because if I don’t, I just know the group will break up the following week and I’ll never see them again. It’s happened once, so I’m not just being paranoid. Don’t let this happen to you – go to shows whenever you can! Pay the outrageous Ticket Bastard “convenience” charges! Don’t live a life of regret like I have! It’s not too late!
Oh, Me Mom& Morgentaler. How I wish I didn’t do you wrong by not attending that show in Victoria all those many years ago. Now I have nothing but your CDs, that awesome poster Mike stole for me from the record shop, and a whole lot of bitter regret in my heart. Damn you, Kimli of yore!
What do you regret?
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