Tubal ligation was last night’s hot topic on Twitter, so I thought I’d throw my uterus into the fray. I sort of started the whole exchange (I have a bad habit of being the instigator behind a lot of things, both good and ridiculous) when I mentioned to ZoeyJane that I couldn’t ask, beg, demand, threaten or pay someone to tie my tubes for a multitude of reasons, with “never say never, dearie” being the most prominent and oft-repeated.

It’s been 21 months since I wrote this post about my frustration at being cock-blocked at every turn of my uterus. When I re-read my words, all the rage comes flooding back: fury at being talked down to, disgust that I can’t be allowed to make the choice for myself, additional fury that this is even an issue at all. Aren’t we past the point where the little woman can’t think for herself? This kind of backwards thinking makes my heart ache and fear for the future.

I have no new news to share about my uterus and my struggle to convince someone – anyone – to tie my goddamn tubes already. It’s been almost 2 years, and while I’m not in danger of spitting out children any time soon thanks to my Weapon of Sperm Destruction, it absolutely kills me to know that I’m being denied something I have every right to request simply because someone else doesn’t think I know what I’m doing. My IUD has three years of shelf life left, but I don’t plan to wait that long before I confront the medical system again – I’m waiting for the clinic that did the initial installation to get my referral and call me to schedule my check up, and I’m going to ambush them with my request. I will let you know what happens when I do – if they agree or try to talk me out of it – but I anticipate a fight; one I am more than willing to take to the streets if it’ll get me what I need.

I envision a protest with hilarious signage in my future.

actually, this could be a lot of fun

I’ve had a theory for many years now that I’ve tested amongst my friends, but last night I received confirmation of my theory’s validity from an outside (and famous, so that counts even more) source.

My theory is quite simple: in order to appreciate Vancouver, you have to spend some time in exile; living far away in another city, another province, another country.

Then, and only then, will you be able to truly appreciate what a spectacular place we live in and never, ever want to leave.

For the sake of science, I extended my theory to include Victoria because I grew up there. I liked it well enough – Victoria is small, quiet, full of old people. I loved it because it was my home, but I didn’t LOVE love it – I thought I could move away and be perfectly happy somewhere else, because it’s just a city and your home is where you make it, right?

Not even a little. When I was 23, I decided that I was done with Victoria and I needed a change of scenery: I moved to Calgary. My plan was to be there for only 6 months, but I think I knew deep down that wasn’t possible – I didn’t have the means to move back, I had nowhere to go, and I was dating a guy in Edmonton. Before I knew it, I had a grown-up job and a car and settled in to a comfortable routine, thinking I was as happy as I was ever gonna get.

But .. every time I visited home, I’d spend a good chunk of time sitting by the ocean and crying. Leaving was terrible; I’d be wracked with a deep aching sorrow that felt like I was going to dissolve into sobs the further I got away from the city. It didn’t take me long to realize that I wasn’t even remotely happy in Alberta, and needed to move back to BC quickly before I went crazy (a deadline I missed by several years). It wasn’t going to be as easy to relocate the second time around – I had a boyfriend, an apartment full of stuff, two cats, and no money. Eventually I was able to leave Alberta and come back to BC, but it took 7 years; a period of time I refer to as my Exile.

Now that I’m back in BC, I’m never ever leaving. Sure, I’ll go somewhere on vacation or to visit people, but I know that I get to come HOME and home is Vancouver and it’ll never be anything else. I’m not going anywhere. If Ed wanted to relocate for work, he would be doing it alone. I’m not going. You can’t make me. I belong here, and it gives me a panic attack to think about packing up and moving away from this city, these people, my home.

I never truly appreciated everything Vancouver (and Victoria, but at this point in my life I need to not be waterlocked) has to offer until I was forced to spend time away. Honestly, I think everyone should have to do an Exile – maybe not seven years worth, but enough to realize what you gave up. I try really hard not to complain about things like the rain or the cost of living in this city, because those are a part of living in Vancouver. Yes, it rains – but not as much as people think. Yes, it’s expensive – but I’m so much happier here and honestly, what else would I be doing with the money? Yes, Vancouver is full of hippies and hipsters – but I am okay with that, because it is so funny. I want to slap the people who complain about this city, because they don’t know how truly awesome it is. Spend some time in Exile, THEN tell me how much Vancouver sucks.

One person does not a scientific theory make, but I’ve seen this in other people as well. Renee spent six years in Kingston Ontario, and finally managed to make it back this year. Even the rest of BC can’t hold up to Vancouver – Gillian is doing her Exile in Kelowna, and is planning a fantastic escape involving hot air balloons and a Goofy costume. Sure, the idea of the Exile has been proven in my own social circle, but all good science has to cast a larger net than that to prove a theory.

Last night, a whole bunch of us got to watch two tapings of The Hour starring everyone’s boyfriend, George. It was awesome – the guests were fascinating, George is so very cute and full of energy, and my Exile Theory was PROVEN by the director of District 9; Neill Blomkamp. During his interview with George last night, he revealed he moved to Vancouver from South Africa as a teen and hated it – until he moved away for a while, then came back. He did an Exile! My theory, proven by a famous guy! Science is AWESOME!

I expect my government grant and white lab coat to be coming in any day now.

cee bee cee

.. as delivered by someone who’s never watched Lost:

• It’s all a dream, and Patrick Duffy was in the shower all along
• A young autistic boy named Tommy Westphall imagined the whole thing in a snow globe
• Jack will explain everything, but be cut off mid-sentence and fade to black
• Everything that happened was because humanity was put on trial
• Sawyer goes home, but his plane is shot down over the Sea of Japan
• Everyone is voted off the island and Kate wins the million dollars
• The island caves into itself after the First is defeated and the gang rides off into the sunset to be reborn as a comic book
• They’re all dead and in purgatory
• Two words: Battle Royale
• The island is alive and the mastermind behind everything
• They’re doing science and they’re still alive
• Sephiroth kills Aeris and people are still bitching 13 years later

.. I may not watch a lot of TV, but I sure know a lot of useless stuff.

First on the docket will be the guy in Toronto who, if I haven’t responded to his email promptly, will WHINE TO MY BOSS that I’m not working. He does this all the time, as recently as yesterday – an email sent at 9am hadn’t been answered by noon (because I was BUSY), so he escalated to my boss TWICE to complain that I hadn’t gotten back to him. Seriously? Do you not have enough work to do that you sit around hitting F9 to see if people have replied to your messages? Do you have a stopwatch? This is rage-inducing and pathetic. Perhaps I will go whine to HIS boss that he is being a bully.

Today I am covered up in honour of George and the CBC!

This morning at the breakfast buffet next door, the bacon was so crispy it broke when I tried to pick it up with the tongs.

I’ve never been more aroused.

Or have I? I’m dealing some kind of crazy hormone imbalance or something – I’ve got an itch that I can’t quite scratch, and nothing I do has gotten me any closer to a happy ending that lasts longer than an hour or two. As amusing as this is for some people, it’s incredibly frustrating and annoying – especially when you start daydreaming more and more fantastic and complicated ways in which to trick people into having sex with you. The last plan involved a calculator, an elastic band, and three tablespoons of instant coffee. I’m like MacGyver, but I still can’t get laid. Is it my lack of mullet? Because I can fix that.

Even though Ed is out of town, I’ve been trying most of my tricks on him. I remembered I was married, for all the good it’s done me – it seems that Ed isn’t exactly receptive to my long distance attempts at seduction. I’ve tried every trick in the book, but because that book is Cosmo, things are going about as well as you’d expect if you were taking advice from a magazine that suggests aggressive testicle manipulation as a surefire way to surprise and delight your man.

For fun, I looked up a list of Cosmo-approved ways to spice up a relationship and tried them all (at once, which might be the problem). Things didn’t exactly go as the magazine assured me they would – I wasn’t swept off my feet in a fit of lustful passion so much as drawn into an argument about how poking me in the shoulder is a really fucking lousy way to let me know you want to fool around unless you’re an 8 year old – but it was an interesting experiment nonetheless.

What titillating things did Cosmo want me to try outside of surprising him with an unexpected prostate massage?

SHARE A SECRET
Tell your partner something about yourself that you’ve never revealed before. It doesn’t have to be a dark confession — it could simply be a big dream you have. Knowing that there are layers to your personality that haven’t yet been peeled away will pique his interest… and his attraction to you.

I don’t have many secrets left, so I had to think really hard about this. Finally, I sent Ed a text message with a secret to see if it piqued his interest…and his attraction to me: when I was 7 I got caught shoplifting bulk candy by a nosy old woman.

Hot, right? Can you not just picture the raging boner this scintillating, interest-piquing secret caused? If you can, you’re likely alone – it took forever for Ed to respond, and when he did, it was only to express mild surprise that he married a criminal and to ask if my text was a misfire, meant to go to someone else. That didn’t go remotely as I had hoped, so I tried to next one:

CREATE EROTIC ANTICIPATION
The days of not knowing when — or if — you’ll sleep together are long gone…and so is that libido-lifting sense of wonder. Well, you can’t go back in time, but you can reignite that excitement. Plan a really hot evening for both of you, but don’t let him in on the details. Just tell him that you’re cooking up a really sexy surprise for him. Build the anticipation by teasing him with hints of what’s to come. Let his imagination work overtime.

I was bored and horny last night, so I decided to try this “Sexting” thing that we’re all apparently doing all the time. I won’t give you the sloppy details .. mostly because there aren’t any. I said some naughty things and received some lukewarm replies about being stuck at a trade show. I hoped some saucy text messages would help, or at least make the day a little more interesting, but apparently at insurance trade shows people stare at each other’s crotches a lot and I was scolded for trying to give him an erection while he was working. Well then. Strike two, Cosmo.

WHEN YOU’RE COUPLED UP — BUT NOT HOOKING UP ENOUGH
Our motto is, “If you want an interesting sex life, start with the life part.” Re-enact the way you behaved when you first started dating. Little things like getting glammed up when you go out for dinner and acting like you would on a date keeps the relationship fun. And don’t forget to flirt. By sending a sexy text, playing footsie or whispering something suggestive in his ear, you’ll keep your chemistry up which will make sex extra hot. It’s also a good idea to plan some active dates like going on a long run or playing tennis against another couple. Working up a sweat might not seem that romantic, but it’ll keep your blood pumping and will make you feel more connected to your body — which will pay off once you’re naked.

I tried to get Ed to log into ICQ so I could ask him if he would ever have sex with five guys at once – all in capital letters – so we could act the way we had at the beginning of our relationship, but I was quickly shot down. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his first embarrassing steps on the internet, and the fact that I kept logs (and constantly refer to them because they’re so fucking funny) doesn’t really help matters. Then I tried to send a sexy text, which we all know ended badly. I don’t run – you try it when you’re sporting DDs; there’s no athlete bra strong enough to contain the awesome power – and I am far too hip to know any couples who play tennis because I don’t live in a fucking country club. Strike three!

WHEN YOU’RE TOTALLY COMMITTED… AND BORED
After a few years together, even the best relationships start to cool off a bit. The easiest way to keep things hot is to make over one half of your couple (that would be you). Take a foreign language class or start a craft biz on Etsy.com. It’s simple really: If you do interesting stuff, it’ll keep him interested too.

.. yeah, this hasn’t worked either. I do nothing BUT interesting stuff – crafting, going to conferences, giving presentations, doing interviews, attending the opera and being on TV and blogging the hell out of my life. I’m a smut-peddling, Fluevog-wearing, scooter-riding, sexually aggressive loud mouth suffering from both social anxiety and exhibitionism. I honestly don’t know how my life could get more interesting outside of having a third arm grafted on to my torso. I’m so fucking interesting it hurts – so where’s the interest? Isn’t Ed supposed to be salivating over me? What the fuck, Cosmo. You are a giant fucking fail.

Short of declaring an open season on the relationship and my pants (which I’ve actually done, but that’s a story for another time), I’m out of things to try and getting more frustrated by the second. Nothing I do arouses anything more than mild curiosity and irritation, so clearly the problem must be me. This is more than a little damaging to my self-esteem – nothing makes a girl feel more sexy and desirable than non-stop rejection – but here I am, still pathetically trying to keep things interesting and failing miserably.

Seriously, I had JUST gotten over being told that I was too fat to fuck – it happened 13 years ago – and now this.

Has anyone written The Dumpy Girl’s Guide to Sex: How to Trick People into Fucking You When You’re as Desirable as a Turnip? I could use it.

not desirable

Ed is out of town at a wedding slash insurance trade show – Alberta is weird – so I’ve got the house to myself. I don’t really have much time to enjoy the noisy solitude though, as the time so far as been filled with Many Things and there are still More Things to come. I really like having alone time though, so I set Sunday aside to do Absolutely Nothing and it’s been a raging boner of success – I slept in, took a nap, did some minor housework, and not once have I been dressed at any time. It was difficult to hold to my plans – I was enticed by an invitation to the beach and other Hanging Out – but this is the only time I’ll have to myself until .. well, this is the only time I have to myself. MY SUNDAY! GET YOUR PLANS – HOWEVER FUN AND AWESOME THEY MAY BE – OUT OF MY SUNDAY! I REFUSE TO PUT ON CLOTHES!

I was really productive yesterday, though. I went on a DATE – fully chaperoned; no backseat cock-riding happened – picked up a muffler, bought some shoes, then crafted the night away and made some neat things with LEATHA:

because it's midnite

Cheryl brought over her stash, and we invented stuff. I’m particular fond of the button/flower pendants and my Twitter cuff – it says @kimli – and I’m planning on making some other stuff tonight just for fun. Naked crafting is dangerous, but that’s just how I roll.

I have nothing to say, and it is glorious.

Among the pornographic gold (not literally, and yet kind of – I didn’t know they published golden showers) given to me last weekend by Jen were two issues of Penthouse Forums; the magazines filled with stories that start “Dear Penthouse, I never thought it would happen to me but ..”. While there are some pictures in these magazines, they’re all about the stories which is great – some of my favourite Smuttons are the ones with snippets from trashy erotica.

For the last week, I’ve been randomly Tweeting/blogging the same phrase over and over:

The silence was broken only by the sound of his best friend’s zipper.

This, my friends, is the single greatest sentence ever written.

It’s from a run-of-the-mill Penthouse Forum letter: he licked this, she sucked that, she inserted slot B into slot B, he emptied various things all over the place, she was insatiable, he was able to go five or six times in one session – but the writer obviously missed their calling as a mastermind of hardboiled fiction. The story ended with everyone spent and sweaty, blissed out on the orgasmic aftermath and enjoying the peaceful stillness, until the silence was broken by the aforementioned sound of his best friend’s zipper.

I *love* this line. It’s pure pulp fiction GOLD. I want to get it printed out on 10” high wall decals and put it above the love seat in the living room. I desperately wish I was clever enough to come up with a snappy loaded line to end my posts with; something that someone like me would find hilarious enough to quote on a regular basis like some kind of drunken douche bag demanding not to be tazed, bro. It’s good to have goals, I suppose.

All this raunchy content is doing my libido no good whatsoever – Ed is out of town for 5 days, and I keep talking about spending my weekend fucking strangers. I’m kidding, I think. I told Ed he had free rein to do as many drunken bridesmaids and/or sexy insurance brokers as he wanted, but he seemed rather put off by the thought. I still haven’t come to terms with his persistent, perpetual heterosexuality – and now he won’t even exercise THAT? Goddamnit. Being all talk does me NO GOOD WHATSOEVER.

Why must my vagina be thwarted at every turn?

best friend? is that you?

I’ve been sitting on this – not literally; that would be sticky – for a couple of days now, waiting to get a picture. I still haven’t managed to get one – something about always being on two wheels and in traffic when I see them – but more and more of them are going up, and I want to strike while load is hot.

The fourth Shrek movie is out in theatres sometime soon, and McDonald’s has the licensing tie-in. They’re bringing out toys and collectable glasses and Shrek-themed food, like McNuggets and McFlurries. This is all fine and good – it’s popular with kids; let’s make some money – but I really, really have to question the executive who approved the marketing plan:

Giant billboards all over town with Shrek’s smirking face, a close-up of a chunky green and white Mint Aero McFlurry, and the text “Mint Ogre-Load”

Really?

NO ONE thought this might be misconstrued as something far less innocent than intended? I know I have a mind so contaminated with filth that I very well ought to come with a warning sign in case there are any sensitive mind-readers in the area, but STILL. I’m torn between amusement and quease – don’t think about Shrek facials too hard, especially this early in the morning. It’s just not good for the stomach.

And with that off my chest, the rest of my day can only be full of awesome.

I woke up with a really bad headache, and bitchy email at work isn’t helping. I’m definitely operating in a fog, which may or may not explain the things I saw on my way to work this morning: a man in a surgical mask hopping around like a kangaroo or an extremely fey T-Rex, and a man riding solo on a tandem bicycle singing protest songs in a fine piercing tenor.

Seriously, did anyone else see these things?

Did I pull a Josh and mistake a sleeping pill for a vitamin?

Shit.

these may or may not be real

I know the video from my presentation will be online eventually, but I really want to share the message now instead of later because patience is not my strong point. The slides have been posted, but without my notes so there isn’t much meat to them. Also, I’m better in text than I am in person. If it helps, you can read this in a slightly shaky voice and picture me trying not to wet myself while I talk too quickly. Feel free to skip this post if you’re tired of hearing about Northern Voice – I have to admit I’m getting there myself (I’m ready to move on to the next terrifying chapter), so I want to write this all down while I’m still energized and stuff.

ironically, shan is not afraid of you

At it’s very worst, my social anxiety was about an 8 out of 10. I could be convinced to leave the house, but it would take a long time to do so and I had to have someone glued to my side and/or standing in front of me in a corner, blocking me from terrifying eye contact with other people. It sucked ass – I hated having no friends, but was in no condition to meet new people. I was as emo as all get out and it didn’t feel like I’d ever get to have any fun.

My refusal to leave the house and be social led me to miss out on a great many things. Among the fun times I’ve missed out on are two Northern Voices, two Twestivals, every single tweetup, every single Sin City, concerts, and friendships. The last one is particularly scary, because Miranda is one of my best friends – yet she was about to give up on me altogether, because I kept bailing on her invitations to do things. It’s not that I didn’t WANT to; I was just too scared to. I’ve had so many adventures in the last three years with or because of Miranda that the thought of almost missing all that really freaked me out.

The quote in the slide above is from the song “Lonely Planet” by The The, and it speaks to the idea of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. You can’t make all people collectively less scary, so instead look at yourself – WHY are you feeling the anxiety? CBT is based on the idea that our thoughts cause our feelings and behaviours, rather than external things like people, situations or events. If we can change the way we think, we can change what we feel – even if the situation itself does not change.

What’s the deal with the pants? They’re my crutch; my main excuse – I would never go outside because it was a HASSLE to get dressed and ready to go outside and interact with others. Why bother putting on pants when I can just stay home and be naked and comfortable? It took me a very long time to realize that I wasn’t just being a lazy naked slob but rather I had major issues with meeting new people, and not wanting to wear pants was just a convenient and hilarious way to get out of doing things.

mug not included

So, now what? We’ve established that there’s some social anxiety at work here, but you still want to get outside, meet some new people, and maybe make some friends. “Social Media” is the new pet buzz word of the moment, but it’s actually an extremely useful way to connect with people in your community. Don’t worry about the “media” part – interviews and speeches will come later – just focus on being social and coming out of your shell.

Vancouver and Twitter are BFFs. Vancouver has a thriving scene on Twitter, and it’s chockfull of other people who like the same things you do. Think of something you enjoy – anything, legal or not – and chances are there’s a bunch of people on Twitter doing that very thing and talking all about it. Connect with these people. Look up Vancouver locals. Use Twitter lists. Talk with these people on Twitter first, then extend the socializing to Facebook if you want. Twitter is great for meeting people; Facebook is more to connect with people you’re already familiar with.

baby baby baby baby baby baby babybabybaby

There are a lot of people on Twitter – how can you possibly make yourself heard over all that noise? Three words: FIND YOUR VOICE. Stand out in a crowd. Don’t disguise who you are. You have a voice, an opinion – use it. Don’t worry about others, or trying to be someone else – we already have one of that guy and that girl already; we need one of YOU. BE YOURSELF, for crying out loud. Let people meet the real you, even if just over Twitter, rather than some false face.

I have a rule for reciprocal following on Twitter: if your timeline looks interesting, I will follow you back. What’s interesting? ACTUAL CONTENT. No page after page of RTs, no spam links or offers to sell me something. Follow the blogging rules: no one cares what you had for lunch. Conversations with others? Golden. Witty or passable interesting tweets? Fantastic. If you look human, aren’t some kind of killer sales robot, and tweet with some regularity, I will more than likely follow you back. Bonus points (not really, there are no points) are given to people who use their Bio properly – tell the world a little about yourself. Where are you? What are you into? I’m almost guaranteed to follow someone back if they’re in the same city or area I am, and if their website or interests catch my eye, all the better – I’ll try to engage that person about something that piqued my interest.

Twitter lists are a great place to start when you’re looking for new people to check out. Start locally, then work your way outward. Find people who share common ground with you; who have the same hobbies or interests. There are dozens of lists filled with Vancouver people who are active on Twitter; check them out.

Then what? Say hello, that’s what. Engage others. Don’t be afraid to say hi. I can’t guarantee that everyone will always reply to your greeting, but some will – and those are the ones to start with. I know firsthand how difficult and “cliquey” Vancouver’s SM scene (not to be confused with Vancouver’s S&M scene) can be, but not everyone is like that. Sometimes it takes a little digging to find the good eggs, but they’re out there – I promise.

The most important thing I think I can tell you about Twitter is that it is NOT instant messaging! Private conversations should be in DM, and anything that isn’t is free for jumping in. If you see a conversation that interests you and you want to say something, go for it. Opinions, thoughts, jokes, observations – these are all awesome things. Don’t let chatter between two or three people scare you away; join the conversation. If you can see it, it’s not private. Jump in!

i choo-choo-choose you

When it comes time to actually go outside and mingle with the terrifying others, start small. The Vancouver Twestival, as great as it is, is the perfect example of an event NOT to attend if you suffer from Social Anxiety or are not good in crowds. Instead, look for events or workshops that aren’t focused on 1-on-1 interaction; something in which you will not be the focus of attention. The Forensic Workshops put on by the Vancouver Police Museum are perfect, because they’re small, intimate, and no one is paying attention to you. There’s no time to stare at others when you’ve got a coconut full of fake blood to bash in with a hammer – people won’t be looking at YOU, they’ll be mentally planning the perfect murder. Mighty Ugly workshops are another perfect thing – you’ll get to meet people, but the focus will be on creating ugly things and not gluing your fingers together. Find events or meets that interest you, but have some sort of activity or thing to watch. Bring a friend, if you’re not comfortable going alone – but GO.

Remember: no one out there is cooler or more important than anyone else. Contrary to popular belief, you ARE a special little snowflake – just one who is no better and no worse than anyone else. We’re all the same, and you should never be afraid to approach someone in the local SM scene because “they’re so famous!” – that’s utter bullshit. We’re all the same, and no one is better than anyone.

(Funny story – the text “drink a lot of alcohol beforehand” is stricken out on the slide, but when projected onto the huge screen, the line through didn’t show up – so a good part of my presentation is me telling people that “get drunk first” was supposed to be tongue in cheek and to NOT drink before going out because it sooooo won’t help you in any way.)

dave would like to be your friend

It’s okay to be a little crazy – we all have issues. However, you need to learn that there’s a time and place to announce those issues to the world, and that time and place isn’t during your first face-to-face interaction with someone. Very few people have time for additional drama, and it’s far easier to walk away from someone unloading on you if you’ve got nothing vested in the relationship. I’d do anything for my friends and they know that, but if I just met you, I don’t want to hear your problems or have you cry on my shoulder. It’s just awkward. Once we’re friends, absolutely – I’m here for you. If we’re barely acquaintances, I don’t need to hear about that weird sore you found down there or how you’re deathly afraid of sandwiches. You don’t have to hide who you are – but using a little discretion at first is a very, very good thing.

.. I think I told a rambling story about milk, Ed, and Derek at this point here.

might as well jump (jump!)

A funny thing about making friends – the more friends I made, the easier it got. I routinely refer to my friends as my safety net (aka “human security blanket”), and I know I can count on them to hold me up if I’m having a particularly bad day. The more people I can count on, the easier going outside gets because there’ll be a whole host of people I can hang out with if I don’t feel up to socializing with strangers.

Growing up in Victoria, it was inevitable that I would know some people in Vancouver before I moved here from Calgary – old friends plus people who read my blog. However, even with that foot in the door I found it agonizingly difficult to make friends. The people I hoped or assumed I would be friends with are out there, but the people I can count on are all people I met after I had arrived. It took some time – nothing worth having will occur overnight – but if you can make even one solid connection with someone, it could branch out into meeting  dozens of others. Some of my favourite people are ones I met through friends of friends, meaning I’d never have met them at all if I hadn’t connected with the right people at some point in the past. Having a safety net is invaluable when you suffer from social anxiety, because these people won’t judge me if I want to run away and hide in a corner or strip off all my clothes and dance on the table (which hasn’t happened yet, but it might).

wheeeeeeeeee!

.. I had nothing to say here; I just wanted to use this picture.

a perfectly cromulent word

My presentation can really be boiled down to two main points: there are some awesome people out there, and don’t be an asshole (more on this was said during the presentation; I can’t remember how it came up). It’s scary and terrifying to come out of the warmth and comfort of your shell, but it can be SO REWARDING if you do – there’s so much in this city to experience; so many wonderful people to get to know. Take a deep breath and promise yourself you’ll try – you’ve already come this far; just go a little further and see what happens. You deserve awesome, incredible good times and those are unlikely to happen in your living room (but if they do, please invite me). Say yes to everything – within reason, if you’re the cautious type. Try new things – the opera, volunteering, a museum, crafting. Get outside your comfort zone and have some fun. There’s so much out there just waiting for you to find it, and you deserve ridiculous happiness – so go get it.

hobo rainbow!

There IS one surefire, fail-proof way to make friends – if all else fails, give people presents! (swag bags were handed out here)

love you guys

.. thanks!

—

That’s a lot of words. Even though the Twitterverse sort of exploded yesterday and everything sucked and people were being mean to one another, I stand by what I said – Vancouver is filled with beautiful, amazing people and everyone deserves awesome.

EVERYONE.

Okay?

Good.

So, go get some awesome. Here’s a good place to start, or this, or this. Summer is coming; soon; there’ll be more fun things to do. Come to the beach and blow bubbles with me for my birthday. Be a zombie or a zombie hunter or a zombie DANCER. Go taste some wine, or smell a morgue. Miss 604 constantly lists Vancouver events and going-ons. See some shoes! GO HAVE SOME FUN! DO IT! DO IT NOW!

.. I’m pretty sure I didn’t yell that much during the actual presentation, but I haven’t seen the video yet – there’s a chance I went all Tony Robbins on everyone. If I did, sorry ‘bout that. I was nervous, is all.

Next year, I wanna be on the sex panel.