roll the bones

My life does not have enough random excitement in it. I mean, yes, I get to go to the opera and examine blood splatter and party with famous people and have creative stalkers and am given awesome things because I am just so adorable – but I need more. More adventure, more excitement, more craziness. I want it all. I want to be the girl with the most cake. I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to rock and roll all night and party every day.

So, with this in mind, I decided to take advantage of Travelocity’s new Top Secret program. It works the same as Hotwire or Priceline – you give the date and city, and it’ll spit out heavily discounted hotel rates. The only catch: you don’t get to find out where you’re staying until you’ve booked the reservation. I’m feeling adventurous this afternoon, so I went ahead and booked Ed and I into a random hotel in Portland for our road trip in early June. The mystery locations made available to me were three 4-star hotels with prices ranging from $85CDN to $105CDN per night, so I went with the one with the most attractive amenities: non-smoking and free wireless.

Looks like we’ll be staying at the Governor Hotel in downtown Portland for our trip. Hooray! I actually know exactly where this is; I took a picture of it the last time we were in Portland. It’s right on a streetcar line, and while I’m sure there’s going to be a ridiculous valet charge per night, it still comes below what we wanted to spend on a hotel for our trip. Ed’s first instinct was to whine about the valet, which I am ignoring – it’s his fault we’re not going in May when the rates are cheaper to begin with, so let me have my goddamn valet parking or so help me god you’ll never get another blowjob again.

Adventure!

pretend this diet coke is guinness

My lineage beyond my gonorrhea-riddled grandfather is a little murky, but I vaguely recall my dad telling me he was basically a Western Europe Mutt with heavy emphasis on the British Isles. As I am very likely at least 1/16th Irish – maybe even 1/8th – I feel entitled to temporarily adopt some stereotypical Irish mannerisms for the day and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with the best of them. “Kiss Me, I’m Partially Irish” may never catch on, but I will hoist an imaginary green beer and dance a lively jig in honour of the patron saint of a country I may or may not have any legitimate ties to. Erin Go Bragh!

If you did not attend one of last night’s two workshops on Forensic Pathology at the Vancouver Police Museum, I know you are kicking yourself in the shins and cursing wildly under your breath. You missed an excellent evening – creepy, educational, and deliciously lurid. Chris Mathieson, the Museum’s Executive Director, delivered an engaging walkthrough of a typical autopsy (15,000 of which were performed in that very morgue between 1932 and 1980). It’s not too late to take part in some of the fun – next Tuesday’s workshop is on Blood Splatter, and the following week is Ballistics. Get your tickets online and come out to support one of Vancouver’s best kept secrets!

This week is suddenly crazy with busy! Tonight is the only downtime I have all week, and it will be spent madly (but discretely) packaging Smuttons for Friday’s Mini-Craft at the MOV. Tomorrow will be drastically different from last night’s crime and autopsies – it’s Fan Night at the Opera, and I’ll be attending to see the Vancouver Opera’s production of Nixon in China. I wasn’t able to make the dress rehearsal because of mom’s surgery, but the awesome Ling invited me to tomorrow night’s performance complete with, according to the VO’s blog, cute stage directors, cake, and swag. This will be my first “modern” opera, and the first I’ve seen in English – I can’t wait!

And now I’m off. My boss just handed me an enormous pile of work that I have to somehow complete in between all the fun that I’m setting up. I really need an assistant to manage my bursting social calendar – maybe I could get an intern. Interns don’t wear pants, right?

here, let me help you with that bra

who wants a cocktail?

soggy

Tofino was awesome. The weather was both horrific and spectacular – torrential downpours and glorious sunshine, sometimes both at once. We arrived just after 8pm on Friday night after a harrowing drive from Nanaimo, and immediately settled in for a weekend of fun.

We were there for less than 48 hours, but we crammed a lot of experiencing into those two days. Extended romps at Long Beach – fireworks – a great deal of lounging – side trips to Ucluelet, Cathedral Grove and Coombs – and all the food in the world. We didn’t have time to stick around for Sunday’s boat ride, but next time we will make it a priority.

My near-death (in my mind; it probably wasn’t as serious as that) didn’t stop me from going back to the beach, although I made sure to stay away from the shore. When we were out on Saturday afternoon, I was standing a goodly distance away from the water, taking pictures. All of a sudden, a rogue wave came crashing up the beach towards us – we all ran, but I was quickly overtaken by the water and found myself flailing crotch-deep in the pounding surf. I walked as fast as I could towards the others, but I could feel the water pulling at me and I almost lost my balance. I panicked and shouted for Ed just before the water ebbed around me and I was able to extract myself from the tide – but it was scary as fuck, and I was shaken for quite some time afterward (as well as soaked through every layer and squelching with every step).

I still need to sort through most of my pictures, but I managed to upload a few favourites this morning:

pumpkins in macmillan park

i like moss

sunset at the cabin

surfin'

the hazardous misadventures of perilous kimli

Getting swept out to sea: I don’t like it.

We’re in Tofino. The four of us arrived last night, meeting up with the other four already at the cabin. It is awesome here, even when faced with near death via epic tides.

I’m posting from my phone in a sketchy-coverage area, so this will be short – in fact, it’s just long enough to say that I did survive the tidal wave and my boots were not waterproof and I may have to go home tomorrow pantless.

Which, of course, is just fine by me.

portland is for good times

Ed and I have been together for 12 years; married for seven. After all that time, he knows that when I get cabin fever for some excitement – something that happens if I go more than one weekend without Adventure – it would behoove both of us to do Something Fun, and damn quickly before I literally have a tantrum. To this end, we (okay, I, but he wisely went along with it) decided to spend our anniversary weekend having an Adventure: we drove down to Portland, Oregon.

We stayed at the Inn @ Northrup Station, which is apparently in a super trendy neighbourhood. The hotel was super perfect – right on the street car line, close to a million things, quiet, funky, awesome. I would absolutely recommend that you stay there if you get a chance. There were giant jars of saltwater taffy everywhere!

mmm taffy

mmm taffy

Our trip was great. We arrived on Friday afternoon, and checked into our hotel just before 5pm. We chilled out for a bit, then went out to do a little shopping – relaxing trip or not, I was in a tax-free state and I had Grand Plans. I bought some Doc Marten boots and some sassy clothes, then we headed back to the hotel for some Adult Swim and sleep.

shiny!

shiny!

It rained all Saturday morning, so we hung out and waited for the rain to go away. It lifted at noon, so we hopped the streetcar and wandered around Portland. We did a ton of awesome stuff on Saturday – lunch at a haunted pizza parlor, video games, Powell’s, Voodoo Donuts, Stumptown Coffee, the Saturday Market – our feet hurt. We sat to rest our feet at the waterfront, and were simultaneously hit with a bizarre sense of déjà vu – we’d been here before. It wasn’t our first trip to Portland, but we’d never been down to the waterfront before – so why did we recognize our surroundings?

Ed had a memory of doing jumps through the park and I remembered parking my car in the hideout to save the game, and we figured it out – Grand Theft Auto 3. The part of town we were in was accurately represented in Liberty City to the point where we recognized where we were based on a game neither of us had touched in 6 years. Hah!

up up down down left right left right b a start

up up down down left right left right b a start

That evening we had dinner at Casa del Matador around the corner from the hotel. The food was awesome – I had a pomegranate margarita – but it was admittedly a little hard to enjoy because of the drunken, aging party girl sitting next to us. She and her party were there when we arrived and still drinking when we left, and each time she would sober up a little it got quieter – then someone would order shots, and her volume and obnoxiousness would go through the roof again. There’s nothing sadder than an aging bar star, and she made me really glad I’ve never been into that scene.

okay!

okay!

We awoke fairly early on Sunday and got ready to check out. I was sad, because I’d love to spend some quality time in Portland (with my scooter) – but we’ll be back. Not knowing what to do but knowing I should stay out of Powell’s Books for the sake of my ability to pay rent this month, we decided to take the streetcar for the entire route and see the city that way. It was a nice ride until the hobo got on – he was smelly – and we got to see a lot of the city and the university. After the streetcar trip, we got back into the Mazdabator and hit the road after a couple of stops at Trader Joe’s for trail mix and Target for all the socks in the world.

Our ride home was uneventful save for two incidents. We stopped for lunch in the fake Vancouver, and went to Burgerville because it is crazy delicious. After we ate lunch I treated myself to a blackberry sundae, because their ice cream is amazing. The overly attentive lobby boy made the sundae for me, but there was an .. incident.

if i had a houseboat i could live here

if i had a houseboat i could live here

When applying the whipped cream to the sundae, the nozzle malfunctioned. Apparently when this happens, it is not advisable to apply more pressure to it in the hopes that something comes out – because when something DOES come out, it’ll explode with great force and spray cream everywhere.

And I mean everywhere.

I received a face full of cream from a strange man. I was too surprised to do much more than laugh, but I was covered in it – the whipped cream shot out with amazing force and covered the wall, the cooler, the ceiling, the guy, and me. All the employees rushed to my aid because I was laughing too hard to do anything for myself – I had a gaggle of people surrounding me trying to get whipped cream out of my hair and off my clothes. It was hilarious and sticky, and you could see everyone struggling mightily to keep the innuendos under check. The sundae guy was relieved that I found it so funny, and he thanked me multiple times for being such a good sport – what else would I have done; it was clearly an accident and also it was hysterical. I am pretty sure these things only happen to me – I am a magnet for creamy surprises.

cute yet spooky.

cute yet spooky.

The drive to the border was boring, but when we got to the truck crossing there were a million cars trying to get into Canada. I convinced Ed it was a good idea to go to the Duty Free store, where I stocked up on clearance Clinique and bought myself some expensive perfume as a reward for bypassing over an hour of traffic. We crossed the border without incident, and made it home by 8:30 last night.

Today is our actual anniversary, and we have the day off. We’re going to buy ourselves a Playstation 3 with the contents of the Puggy Bank (Katamari Forever comes out tomorrow !!), be shot by Miranda and Reilly, and maybe go out for dinner later. All good things that require me to wear pants, so I should really get going already.

Happy anniversary, Ed! You are a Good Egg.

nah nah nah nahnahnahnah katamari damacy

nah nah nah nahnahnahnah katamari damacy

eureka

I’ve figured it out!

I know why I’ve spent the last two weeks being angsty and melodramatic and much, much less talkative than usual! It was really bothering me that my inner monologue couldn’t even come up with a decent reason for my non-stop sour mood to the point where I couldn’t even write about it – there was badness, it was huge, yet no words would come out to explain away the melancholy. That’s really unlike me – I have a soliloquy for every damn situation – but I figured it was one of a dozen or so reasons I had to be down in the proverbial dumps.

It’s not, though. The first half of this month has been uncharacteristically shitty for me, and it’s NOT because of any of the following things:

  • The impending end of summer
  • My near-death experience by a) frat boys, b) a truck, or c) the aporkalypse
  • The ambitious yet utterly insane work calendar I set up for myself
  • My missing self-esteem
  • Cheddar puking on every single thing on my desk yesterday morning
  • Having to skip 7 or 8 Fun Things because I was too sick to go outside
  • Missing my friends because of the hamtrax and uncooperative schedules
  • Being absent from work for 3 unplanned days, forcing me to cram 9 days of work into 4
  • An insensitive husband making dumb comments about my appearance
  • Being out of Diet Coke

It’s none of those. Yes, they’ve all negatively affected me one way or another, but I’ve gotten pretty good at shrugging these things off and continuing my Life’s Work of being ridiculous – but not this time, and I’ve finally figured out why.

Four years ago today, my dad selfishly decided he was done with life and succumbed to his advanced age and raging stomach cancer. I miss my dad, and every year around this time I am filled with sadness and guilt at his death. The very fact that I am sad leads to another sad – while it’s perfectly natural for me to miss my father and be upset at his passing, if I were to be perfectly honest with myself I would have to admit that I am TOTALLY CHOKED a) that he died at all and b) that September is now a sad month for me when it used to be filled with awesome.

I love September. There’s so much going on – long weekends, gorgeous days, pretty colours, cozy sweaters, parties, BBQs, super fun events, killer sales on school supplies. It’s usually a month of happiness, too – anniversaries and happy times and celebrating the fact that we made it another year without killing each other. All good things.

Then, right in the middle of it all, is a giant behemoth of sad. My dad passed away on September 18th, and while his death remains suspicious in my mind – 91 year old men don’t suddenly contract cancer just like that and then die – every year I struggle with balancing my natural September delight with sadness and missing my dad. Every year before now I’ve been completely conscious of the Deathiversary, and appropriately angst-ridden – but this year, while it didn’t slip my mind, I’ve been dealing with swine flus and work and a dozen other things that have weighed heavily in my brain juices. My dad is always on my mind – I’ve finally been able to put his memory into Happy House, whereas Sasha still lives in the Burst into Random Tears Condo – but THIS September, I tried to bury the Deathiversary in Other Things, and clearly failed miserably.

Strangely, I feel much better now. I miss my dad – hell, I’ll always miss my dad – but this month has been really, really weird for me and it’s just a relief to realize WHY. And now that I know why, I can deal with it and get back to normal (for me anyway; it involves glitter and stripper shoes).

I love you, dad, and I miss you. You suck for being dead, but I’m glad you’re in a better place. Look after Sasha for me, and don’t let her eat your chicken.

Ed and I are off to Portland for a mini anniversary trip. I will buy things, he will tell me I’m pretty until I tell him to shut up, and hopefully when we return on Monday I will be in a much better frame of mind. I’m more or less already there, but I think getting out of the country will be good for me (if only for the tax-free shopping and beer at 7-11).

Sorry for being out of sorts, but I’m better now.

pax post 1

The border crossing was nowhere near as bad as I had feared, but if we arrived any later we would have been in a world of trouble. As it was, we were in line for 30 minutes before we crossed into the US at 4:30pm.

I had to pee and we were both hungry, so we made a quick stop at my beloved Bellingham Target. I finally found a stand-alone DSi charger, and bought a bag full of paisley clothing to try on later and hope for the best. We piled back into the Mazdabator after a quick snack, and were southbound once more.

I’m so anal retentive when it comes to packing that I rarely forget things, but this time I did make one small mistake – I forgot to sync Evernote before I left the country. As a result, I had no access to any of the addresses or maps I had stored in preparation for the trip. We drove around Tulalip for a while trying to steal wifi, but eventually gave up and hoped my memory and super human sense of direction would prevail. It did – I was able to guide us to our location by simply guessing. We made it to the convention hall just before 8pm.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do much tonight, but I had two goals: get our badges so we could avoid the morning crush, and participate in an attempt to break a world record. I’m happy to say I was successful in both endeavors – getting our badges took all of 2 minutes, and we made it to the hall just in time to participate in the new world record of most people playing the Nintendo DS in one location. Hah!

After that, we made our way back to the car and headed towards Ali’s place. I hope to head out early tomorrow – my clothes are laid out (no pants, so dressing will be a breeze) and I have a cold date with a giant Jamba Juice first thing in the morning.

Strangely enough, the thing I’m most looking forward to is taking pictures.

adventure ho

Off to Victoria! I’m fully prepared for today to be incredibly unpleasant, but the weather is supposed to clear up as of tonight – so the rest of my time there should be dry and sunny. I could take the car, but I know I’ll be kicking myself when I have to drive around on four wheels with the sun beating down on me. I’ll suck it up and take my chances with rain: I’ll dry, and there’s always a chance my wet pants will lead to even more hilarious tantrums.

I spent most of yesterday evening writing up postcards! The first batch is ready to be popped in the mail, and I’ll do some more tonight from my mom’s place. I still have so many more cards to send, so if you didn’t email me yesterday, get on it! I’ve gotten requests as far away as Australia and Taiwan, which is fantastic – international saucy postcards! I actually took some pictures of the pile about to be mailed, but I changed my mind about posting it – I want the cards to be a surprise, however minor. I’m having a lot of fun with this (hand cramps aside), so pass it on if you think other people might enjoy some random stranger mail.

Time to pack up Lola and get a move on. Next stop: Nanaimo! I’m taking the scenic route just because I can. Hooray for road trips!

Fingers crossed that I can get the internet working at my mom’s house, okay?

time to upgrade?

I want a Jeep.

I don’t particularly know WHY I want a Jeep; I just know that when I see them I go “ooh!” and there is coveting and daydreaming about going off on Jeepy adventures with the top off and various breezes blowing through my lady parts. Ed does not seem adverse to the idea, which is doing little to quell my urges. We could totally get a Jeep. It would be awesome.

With the exception of my Metro, I’ve never had a truly manly car. The Mazdabator is great, but it doesn’t really strike me as rugged and tough – if it was a person, it would get manicures and moisturize with expensive potions. Jeeps don’t get manicures; they’d say “it’s just a flesh wound” and continue swashbuckling their way through the swarthy jungle. I want in on this action. It is precisely the kind of adventure I want to have, swords and all. You can’t swashbuckle in a Mazda 3! Bring on a Jeep!

A Jeep would come with a free membership to the Cult of 4×4. I’ve lost most of my weekend friends to the Cult (of 4×4, not the Cult that sells sanctuary), but I’m not particularly interested in joining them. I figure there’s a lot you can do with a Jeep that doesn’t involve mud – in fact, I sort of see a Jeep as a dandy compromise between a useful vehicle and a fun convertible. As much as I’d love to have some sort of zippy little convertible sports car, it wouldn’t really be all that useful for day-to-day, non-adventure things. I refuse to be a two-car family again, as we don’t use the one car we DO have – so really, the only option is to get a Jeep.

A dark green one, with a soft top and roll bars and removable doors and maybe a little trailer hitch for the scooters.

There are valid arguments against the Jeep Lobby, though. For one, we’d have to sell the Mazdabator and I *love* the Mazdabator. We just paid it off, and I really like the extra $400+ a month we’re no longer making in car payments – that’s a lot of ale and whores. I’d probably fall out of a Jeep and break myself. I’d need to buy a ladder to get into it.

But still. Jeepy adventures! That’s awfully enticing.

Last night we went BALLS OUT for Ed’s birthday dinner, dining en masse at Joe Forte’s. I had the Surf n’ Turf (with extra surf), and it was soooooo good – probably one of the best meals I’ve ever had. It was a spendy evening out, but it was a birthday dinner and Ed enjoyed it and that’s all that matters. Plus, I had scallops and they were enormous and delicious. Hooray!

Should we get a Jeep?

change of plans

Sasha must be feeling better – anything with lungs that powerful at 8am on a Sunday morning can’t be nearly as sick as she looks.

I could probably go back to sleep, but then I’d miss out on this lovely silence and the sun beating down on my naked back. It feels quite lovely; almost enough to make this unexpectedly early morning somewhat worthwhile.

I had planned to spend my Saturday scooting to the Sunshine Coast, but that didn’t end up happening. It’s Ed’s birthday weekend, and as such, I left the plans completely up to him. He really wanted to be home to see the first game in the Stanley Cup finals, so we instead opted to stay local and do the coast another day. We have all summer with no plans other than “scoot the planet”, so it’ll happen. I can wait.

Instead, we headed east into Port Moody and to Buntzen Lake. We took the back roads and did some fancy parking, ending up right on the crowded-but-manageable beach. We hadn’t really packed to do any swimming, so I waded in the water a little (bemoaning my dryness the entire time) and made a pact to play hooky from work one day soon to have a mid-week beach adventure. We headed back towards home just in time for the puck drop, and I alternated between napping and DS Scrabble while Ed yelled at the TV.

After the game, we gathered Shan and the three of us scooted to the West End to go to a housewarming party. The house was beautiful, the company fantastic, and I got to hold a hedgehog (and now I want one or 20). It was a beautiful night for a scoot both to and fro, and my earlier soreness had all but disappeared (the afternoon’s ride was uncharacteristically painful due to a bad sleep and a pinched shoulder nerve). All in all, it was a very nice night – turns out, being social is fun!

Today is Ed’s birthday, and our plans are up in the air. We had originally planned to see Up, but seeing a matinee on the opening weekend seems like it might be a bad idea. The day is entirely up to Ed, and we’ll go for a fancy dinner later tonight. It’ll be fairly low key – we had decided that the San Francisco trip was our mutal birthday present, so no gifts were necessary (it’s a one-way agreement: not only did I buy him a present; this rule absolutely does not apply to MY birthday in 19 days). A nice weekend filled with a variety of fun is always welcome.

scooters are awesome.

scooters are awesome.